Six months ago, Alfonso Gómez Rejón‘s stock was of Jordan Belfort’s penny list variety. He himself had to push it on people. And that’s exactly how he landed a gig directing the Sundance-winning, indie-record-breaking, standing-ovation-inducing Me & Earl & The Dying Girl [our review here]. Says Rejón, “I had to fight for the job…. It was torture.” But Rejón would gleefully admit that the painstaking process that got him from point A to point sitting behind that coveted director’s chair was one well worth it. After all, he’s gone from penny stock to Fortune 500 in one quick go.

From our review,

“Me and Earl and the Dying Girl being this year’s angsty ‘teens with cancer’ remix – don’t know why that’s a perenial occasion but, alas, it appears to be – you can expect a picnic of sniffles with audience members transformed into snotty basketcases by curtain call. In its meaningful melodramatic, M+E+DG is every bit as sad as The Fault in Our Stars without the cookie cutter-shaped, ruthless emotional gutting of the later. Rather than suck off tear ducts like a mynock off the Falcon, Alfonso Gomez-Rejon is genuine with his tragedy and never gleeful about his emotional blood letting. That being said, wahhhhhhhhhh!”

In lackadaisical manner, Alfonso sat back into his overstuffed chair and opened up about how his pratfalls and his triumphs paved the way to making Me & Earl & The Dying Girl. We talked the glowing reception of the film all the way to its standing ovation premiere, back-to-back Sundance prizes, the film’s tender (and late stage) dedication to his father, the making of Greg’s short film, transitioning from horror and teen tv to his first feature film, homaging personal favorites and timeless classics and how he fought to win the rights to the highly sought after blacklist script.

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You’re a young man who’s made a phenomenal film that’s just catching fire right now. But let’s get back to your roots a little bit. You started out in television. You were doing episodes of Glee as well as American Horror Story; and then you did a remake last year, The Town That Dreaded Sundown. Following it up, I read in the press notes – which is really long, so I didn’t read the whole thing – that you wanted to make something more personal. How does this film fulfill that requirement?

AG: To go back, it started maybe fifteen years before Glee. I’d been a PA forever, an Art Department intern, Craft Service. I’ve done a lot. Then I was a personal assistant to a few directors I really—all that made me capable of taking on, I think—but Glee was…what was so meaningful about Glee was Ryan Murphy gave me the opportunity to get my first “Directed by” credit. But it was like crawling your way to that, and then now crawling my way to this. But it was personal because I identify with Greg’s emotional state in the second half of the movie. I identify with him early on in the film, because I was not unlike him in many, many ways. But more than anything, what I loved about it was how fresh the dialogue, how Jesse’s dialogue was so honest and so new to me. And I love, obviously, that it was the opportunity to celebrate movies. So I was hooked.

But then the Mr. McCarthy scene—that people’s lives continue to evolve after they die—really struck me. And that’s when I dove in deeper and deeper, and saw that I could probably tell a movie that reflected, that I could turn into and interpret as something personal. That I could work through my own emotions with Greg, having lost a parent right before that, you do feel like a child. And it is very confusing. There’s a lot of anger and denial that goes with it. So I saw those states in Greg in the second half. And the fact he was able to make something out of it for Rachel. And I was able to make this thing. And I was gonna try to leave something behind that was made as a tribute – for me it would be, my dad, for Rachel. This is the only way I can express my love and honor you with a movie that is very funny. And that was reflective of our relationship. So, very different movies. But I think the emotion is pure. The goal was to get something out of my heart, and get it out there, instead of denying it. It was making something out of it. And that’s how it was therapeutic. It wasn’t autobiographical, by any means: all I want to do is hide. And no one really knew about this until I was encouraged to dedicate the film. And then it becomes a topic to talk about. And that’s part of the process, too. So that’s how it’s personal. And it works as a comedy—and that’s important to me too, because my dad was one of the funniest guys ever.

Getting into the final movements of the piece, when Greg finally goes to show the film that he’s made—it’s beautiful, interpretive, trippy, organic and real. It’s something that a successful film student would make as their final project. Was that something that you directed as well?

AR: It was animated by Ed Bursch and Nate Marsh. Really wonderful young filmmakers from Pittsburgh. They were a real part of the movie, because that will take some time. So I knew that—that was one of the departures from the screenplay, that the final film was going to be this abstract film that I wanted to make. Because they were gonna animate it, you had to direct it in a way, because what’s it about? It’s about an emotional journey, right, and how do you express that? I don’t want him to rely on his jokes and his parody; I want him to start to find his voice, and how do you talk about something so abstract? You can’t rely on words; it’s so much bigger than that. Colors and shapes. And we started looking at some of the classic experimental films—Brakhage and Fischinger and all these guys. And seeing their process and their voice, because that’s stuff that he would’ve been soaking up at that DVD shop they go to. Some of the burn-ins in the background of Stan Brakhage; and another scene you’ll see Charles and Ray Eames’s Kaleidoscope Jazz Chairs. Pittsburgh Museum. Pittsburgh is the home of the Andy Warhol Museum that has those very famous Warhol screen tests that they parody at the beginning of that film, the black-and-white stuff. So it was about talking every night after wrap; they’d come over to my house, the place I was renting in Pittsburgh. And we’d have a drink, and we’d talk, and look at the film and listen to music. So I decided the journey was going to be three steps: something that would be a parody, a beginning of a parody, but a little bit more evolved, which is Warhol. And then going into something stop-motion with a lot of humor, that was directly about her—the pillows—something they had made for her specifically. And then go off into something that was more a journey of—I don’t know—energy, whatever you want to call it. And it’s something I don’t want to talk about too much, because you don’t want the audience to know what’s going to happen. You want them to let them that journey. And I hope you respect that. But you know what you’re doing. And that’s how you direct something like that. And they would make samples and e-mail them to me, and we’d talk, and I’d show them; and they were beautiful and odd. And then the beginning of that journey was supposed to be deconstructed student testimonials, like the really bad ones that the kids did. But that didn’t quite work. And it wasn’t until I went to the Warhol Museum with my prop-master Bo Harris the weekend before we were supposed to shoot that. That’s how this started, and it would lead to the others.

As a director, in your fairly short life span working on films and television, you’ve seemed to waffle back and forth between teen and horror movies. Not to pigeon-hole what Me and Earl and the Dying Girl does into a teen kind of drama but there are those elements there. What about those genres speak to you?

AG: I had written a commercial for Scorsese called “Bleu de Chanel” for the Chanel men’s fragrance. So I was out there writing this thing for Scorsese, and it was a great time of my life, ‘cause I was gonna do something and he was gonna direct it. It was an eight-day shoot, and I wrote this little script. I couldn’t believe it. I had come off of Eat, Pray, Love as an executive director; and I was convinced I was gonna make a feature. I always thought I was gonna make a movie for the past twenty years. But it takes awhile. It is what it is. But Ryan Murphy, his show Glee had just been picked up for more episodes. First season. And he got to know me and my work on Eat, Pray, Love. About a month after we wrapped, I was in New York on the Chanel commercial. He asked me if I wanted to direct an episode. And initially, I was like, I don’t know if this is for me. I don’t know this show. I didn’t understand the concept of being a television director. You walk into something, a system, and how does this work? I was such an old-school film guy. But I did take it. And it was my first “Directed by” credit. And he allowed me total creative freedom, and I storyboarded everything very carefully. And that was an opportunity that was given to me by Ryan. And then that led to more of those episodes, which led to American Horror Story, which other than Coven is very much an adult show. There is a young, teen cast and Evan Peters, throughout. But Coven was the most youthful of them all, I guess. But then Red Band was great—because of the attention I was getting on American Horror Story, I was offered a few pilots. And that was a beautiful script by Margaret Nagle that dealt in a world I was interested in: teen hospital, pediatric wing. I knew my father in Mexico had been in a hospital between when he was twelve and thirteen-and-a-half. And you realize all these questions you should’ve asked. And of course you’re alone most of the time. Your parents have other kids, and they have jobs, and you’re there. So what was that world like? I was intrigued by that. And I had ideas that might be fun visually. I can see the connection when I look back, but nothing was quite planned.

Talking more about the film’s reception at its debut, I unfortunately during the press screening was a theater over watching Noah Baumbach’s Mistress America.

AG: I haven’t seen it.

It’s really good. But I probably should not have seen that in lieu of this. I just saw this a couple weeks ago. But you received a standing ovation at Sundance. You got the Audience Award Prize, in addition to the Jury Award Prize. For lack of a better word, you really dominated the festival. Did you have any idea going into it of what a success this would be?

AG: Zero. Zero. No one believes me. We had no expectations. We had just finished a film before we went to Sundance. I was so sick; I had the flu; I didn’t have a voice. I was very nervous, because I’m an introvert, but the hardest thing to do is introduce the movie—that’s like the scariest thing. Then we had two tiny “Friends and Family” screenings, one in September in LA; one in new York in October. That was it; we were just rushing to finish the film and get it out there. And then all of a sudden, from 25 people you go to 1,400: you’re a mess. And at some point, you just let go. This is it. You just have to let it go. And it was very emotional. And then we sold it that night; it was very fast. And then we saw that audiences were liking the movie, but by the end of the festival, I had the feeling that there was gonna be some backlash because we were like the popular kids early on, which is so not me historically. And I just felt the worst was gonna happen. Because I would hate me, kind of a thing. But you realize that, no, people had embraced the film, and it was a complete shock. Both awards were a surprise, and because also, more importantly—and this is super important—as I started watching more and more movies after we premiered, things quieted down, and I got to meet other filmmakers and watch their films. If I could watch five movies a day, I could, and get to the 8:00 screening, the midnight screening, watch as many as we can. And I realized all the great work that was out there, and all the wonderful filmmakers that were out there. And I felt that I was so lucky to be part of something. And all the films I couldn’t get a seat to, I couldn’t get into all these other films. So winning was very humbling, but watching their work was even more humbling, because they’re much better filmmakers, and really wonderful films. So again, no expectations. It happened so fast. I didn’t want it to end.

So, talking about the sale: another record that you set. You guys had the biggest offer at Sundance of all time. Is that true? A twelve million dollars offer?

AG: We were offered the most money that any film had been offered before. But when we chose to be with Fox Searchlight, the deal was a very different structure to that deal. But it was better for us. And also Steven Rales, who financed the film, already had a relationship with Fox Searchlight. And they had done a few movies together, and it felt like the right choice, and the best place for us. And they handled the movie beautifully.

Is that a hard decision to make, though?

AG: It was not made by me. Well, that’s not true. You’re included in the process, but there are financiers and the people that are repping the movie with Marson Dever and the lawyers. And every deal is so intricate. I don’t have that part of my brain. But they would always: “This is what’s on the table, and this is, and when that offer comes, and this is why this is there, this reason…” And it’s too complicated and just boring to get into. But that was the lead story, that it was a record-setting offer. And we could’ve taken it, but there was another reason why everyone felt more comfortable going with Fox Searchlight.

I think one of the beautiful, frustrating, innovative, and moving parts of the film is that Greg is an inherently unreliable narrator; and yet, you really aptly balance his voice in the film. And I’m wondering how you get that part right without feeling like you’re deceiving the audience?

AG: It’s a fine line, it really is a fine line. I think that the end of the film is an emotional sequence. And what I started to notice that people, in talking to people, people bring their own narrative into this story: people who have been there, or fear whatever that is. It becomes a personal journey for a lot of people. And even when you have empathy, you understand, just as a human being, you have some kind of sense of compassion, what is happening. And then you understand, I think, without giving away what happens, that when you’re in a position like that, you lie to yourself, right? Until you get it on some fundamental level, you get it. And also he’s a filmmaker who’s telling a story. And you have to get through the end of the story. And you don’t want to see her as a victim the first time you see her; it’ll taint the whole movie. Tonally, it can set it in a different light. And that was something I never once questioned, because it hooks you in and then you get it. He is telling you the story in the only way he knows how to express it is by taking to the journey that he was going through while he was living it. And so I hope, at the end, yeah, intellectually you look back, and realize this may not have been correct. I don’t want to be too specific, but you know what I’m saying. But at the end, you hope that you understand, this seventeen-year-old, this is the way he’s telling you his story.

On a more fun topic: the film features a bevy of throwbacks to classic films. The two that stood out most to me were A Sockwork Orange and Eyes Wide Butt. I’m a big Kubrick fan. Was that something that was very, very specific in the screenplay, or did you guys just have a lot of fun with that?

AG: The latter. In the novel and in the screenplay, they make parodies of films. And some of them remain as Jesse intended, which is like Sockwork Orange. But what was fun and an opportunity. I felt they started getting a little too popular; and I thought, and Jesse and I were partners in this, and he’s a good friend. And I felt like, I want an opportunity to pay homage to the films that shaped me. And as a director, when you’re interpreting this piece, I want to pay homage to the guys who mentored me. I wanted the films that really shaped me. And that was a list that I drove everyone crazy with, ‘cause it was Bad Influence. OK, we can do burn-ins for those; we could spoof these; we could art-direct the Scorsese and Scorsese original first-edition. There’s shit everywhere, right? Thelma Schoonmaker is Greg’s screensaver. That’s her on 1969 on her KEM, a black-and-white picture from one of the editorial journals or something. There’s all this love out there, ‘cause I’m thinking, I’m never gonna have this opportunity again, so “I love you, thank you.” So then that became a journey, and then once we came up with a title.

And then sometimes people would suggest to you—when our producer, Jeremy Dawson, looked out the window and realized, in the town square, the plaza across the street looked just like the one from The Conversation. That’s a very simple one to do. ‘Cause the thing is, you also have to do it quickly, cheaply. They couldn’t be too over-produced; these were two seventeen-year-olds making it. The clothes all came out of their parents’ closets, that was all given to them by Jennifer Eve, who had put a lot of thought into the costumes. These were things that they could actually borrow. And so then Jesse would rewrite the names in really weird, funny ways. And then Ed Bursch and Nate Marsh were actually the two filmmakers making these things, so I was lucky enough to be part of the early-on pre-production. But once I started shooting, sometimes they’d be upstairs and I’d be downstairs; and I’d just be poking my head—Certainly Pooping Tom is an homage to Michael Powell. And an homage to Thelma Schoonmaker. Scorsese is everywhere, from The Last Waltz t-shirt to the Mean Streets poster to the grumpy cul-de-sacs. They’re everywhere. But everyone, at some point, over drinks at the bar at night, would come up with a pun. And then we had the films that we actually made, and then all the DVD covers, that were also homages. And Nate Marsh was drawing all those, and they would come up with their own puns. And Jesse had a great way with the homages.

The screenplay, which Jesse wrote, based on his own novel, was on the blacklist in 2012. What was your process of taking to that and onboarding as director?

AG: I had to fight for the job. I read the script, and I liked it and expressed interest. It took months for me to actually have an opportunity to meet and get the job. Jeff Somerville, one of my friends from NYU, happened to be working at the company, and he just flat-out told me that all these lists of directors who were very accomplished who wanted to direct this movie. But he gave me one piece of advice, which was, “You should make some kind of visual representation, which might help you. But I promise to bring you in.” So I let that play out for months, but it was torture. All these people were coming and going, and I kind of knew who was there. And then I finally came in at the end with my little video, a seven-minute piece, which was like a mood reel. And it worked, and people got it. And I kept going to other people. And eventually I went to Steven Rales, and then he decided to give me the job—so it was months. And then I met Jesse.

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For more Silver Screen Riot interviews, check out more of our “Talking With…” series here.

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