JWT & Biscuit on Casting Choreography for Charity

Adam Collins, Creative:

How did the project come about?

NCDV didn't actually come up with a brief. I have known them as a charity for a while and done work for them in the past. I had been talking to the client and was aware that it takes a long time and many actual attacks if you like, before a victim will report it.  

Then about two and a half years ago, I was moved by a dance piece which was very emotional. It inspired me to want to tell the story of a woman trapped in a violent relationship through dance. I wanted to do this as people don't like watching violence.

How could we show a horrible action in a way that way beautiful and approachable. Then we could hit popular culture and make our point. This issue is often ignore, brushed under the carpet and not taken seriously, but many women and sometimes men die each year from the abuse. 

What did you want to come from the project?

It's also one thing making work but it's another to get views and people really watching it. We would never have a big media budget if any so to get it shared and talked about online was the focus. That's why I wanted to make it into a music video for a track by an artist who would resonate with a female audience. The artist's popularity would help it to naturally spread.

How did you get Noam involved? 

I had my vision, aim for the campaign and client buy in, but I knew I needed to team with the right director. That's when I ended up talking to Hanna Bayatti and Orlando Wood at Biscuit. I was telling them about my project and they said they thought Noam would love it... And he did.  

From there it was nailing down the right musical artist (Ellie Goulding eventually after months of work) and choreographer (Sidi Cherkaoui) who would take on the challenge of telling this story in the right way.

Noam Murro, Director:

Was there something in particular that inspired the spot and if so, what was it? 

PSAs usually cloak social issues - important ones and even less important ones - in a thick layer of doom. The idea was to take a deeper look at domestic violence, and filter it through an artistic prism. Using movement as our way into the abuse cycle allows the viewer to watch a violent act through an experiential artistry.

One of the most important movies I’ve seen in the last decade is Son of Saul (below).  What’s remarkable about it is how it lets you experience the Holocaust without actually seeing it. Because the camera stays fixed on one person, the horror happens on the side of the screen, so you hear more than you ever see. To me, it’s the most effective and disturbing movie about that time that’s ever been made, because it has a cinematic point of view. Though our approach isn’t technically the same, it’s similar in that it lets you witness this great horror without actually seeing it. Our logic was that taking a more artistic, less literal approach to such a taboo subject might make for a more watchable piece. And if the viewer could watch it, it would allow us to be heard, while still remaining respectful.

How did you get involved on the project and what was the production process like? 

Sometimes, when I’m lucky, a great agency calls with a great script. They were completely involved, enthusiastic, and keen, and clearly moved by this assignment.  And it was infectious. Dramatizing domestic violence through dance – and modern dance, in particular, with its long legacy of bucking the oppressor – was a perfect fit. In developing the choreography, certain moments were extraordinarily beautiful, some simply captured the relationship between a man and a woman, and in some of them, our dancers weren’t even touching. So part of developing this was choreographing an assault without any physical contact, when assault is, by its nature, physical contact gone wrong.

How did you find working with the dancers, and what were the biggest challenges in capturing the choreography? 

In addition to the incredible talent our two dancers bring to the piece, they also brought the added benefit of being a couple. So the relationship you see on screen was not manufactured for the shoot day, but generously shared. This lent an authenticity, intimacy, and trust that made this a much deeper emotional investigation. These are not strangers, so when they look into each other’s eyes, you can see the monster. 

Watching them work as a couple was interesting because of the level of physical and emotional trust between them. For example, if he pushed her too hard or she fell down, there was none of the apologizing you might feel you had to do with someone you just met. They just kept going. Their being in a relationship - and being willing to share that relationship - allowed us to push the piece harder, because the depth of their bond made their emotional response to the story they were telling much more tender and profound.

In terms of choreography, the biggest challenge was coming up with a dance language that took violence and filtered it through the prism of modern dance in a way that made it watchable. Like any film about human atrocity or suffering, a direct transcription of that experience is often too overwhelming and might compel the viewer to look away. The goal was to create a language that interprets horror through the eyes of art, so it points to the horror, but in a way that always remains watchable, so its message will still be heard.

The spot is beautifully shot but also carries a serious message. How did you strike the balance between conceptual beauty and creating a spot that was both realistic and meaningful? 

In transforming the complexity, physicality, and struggle of domestic violence into dance for a modern viewer. The goal was to give an abstraction to the narrative and a narrative to the abstraction. On the one hand, it can’t be so abstract, so as not to have a clear, discernible arc. On the other, it can’t be so literal that it becomes too graphic/unwatchable. Each relationship is unique, but every relationship is a conversation between two people.

This one just happens to unfold through movement rather than words. In bringing that to the screen, the beauty is never in contrast to the horror, but is paradoxically meant to cast the horror into high relief. The same goes for the music. Ellie Goulding did an amazing job of honoring the tension of the dance musically. Elements of her composition are beautiful, but as it gains momentum, it delves into its darker aspects, just like the choreography. Throwing tough social issues like domestic violence against a backdrop of beauty makes you realize how truly awful things can be, which, in turn, makes the message more powerful.

You’ve directed dance before, in the Money SuperMarket series. What do you enjoy most about crafting a narrative through movement? 

I have a soft spot for dance, and in fact chose dance as the focus of a short I directed for the Cannes Showcase, which was a modern interpretation of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, called Night Shift (below).

Dance is challenging to direct, but I enjoy tackling it precisely because there are no words. Just bodies telling stories through movement and occupying 3D space, which we then capture in a 2D art form. Filming dance radically transforms how we’re used to experiencing it. As an audience member, you’re confined to a seat or vantage point and therefore to the experience of dance as a tableau. Looking in from the outside. But the camera lets us break inside the tableau, move around, and become a true participant in the dance. Modern dance is something I consume a lot of, so cracking open that tableau and exploring it with an audience was an interesting place for me to work.