Andrew Boodhoo Kightlinger’s latest film, Lost on a Mountain in Maine, is out now in theaters. Kightlinger was born and raised in Madagascar, and later lived in South Dakota, and his multicultural origins have fueled a prolific genre-fluid approach to storytelling. In addition to Lost on a Mountain in Maine, Kightlinger has directed the prairie-bound drama Tater Tot & Patton starring Jessica Rothe and the award-winning short film Destroyer, with Alan Ruck. He’s also winner of the Screenwriting Grand Prize at the Slamdance Film Festival and recently directed the short dance film Becoming, a collaboration between the Getty Center and Sony.
WHO am I?
“I was born and raised in Madagascar.”
I often lead with that. Because it’s interesting, unique, true … and above all, it’s WHO I am.
The response I most often receive is, “Like the movie! I like to move it, move it!”
Yes. I was born and raised in Madagascar. An only child. My childhood was rainforests, lemurs, beaches, charcoal fires and chameleons. Parts of my childhood were like a movie. A long-lensed camera on a dolly, tracking as I raced barefoot through blurry forest green with my Malagasy friends, unmoored by the reality of living in one of the 10 poorest countries on Earth.
I went to a Malagasy school. My parents were medical missionaries for the Lutheran church. They were microbiologists. Not pastors. They didn’t chuck Bibles at people’s heads. They trekked into villages, some near-inaccessible, constructing clinics and administering vaccines to willing locals. Every jab came with a copy of the Book of John. I’m in awe of my parents’ humanitarianism. I’m not capable of it. At least, not in their way.
Access to cinema was a chore in Madagascar, especially in the late ’80s and ’90s. Still today, the island’s road infrastructure is a work-in-progress. Driving 100 miles can take days because of potholes and washouts. To make sure missionary families kept up to date on pop culture, we created the Red Island Video Club – a wooden footlocker filled with VHS tapes of movies recorded off American TV – sometimes with the occasional Burger King ad mixed in, if someone didn’t stop recording in time. This footlocker stayed with a missionary family for months at a time while they burned through its contents. When finished, it would make another bone-rocking journey to a different family.
This footlocker was my film education. My first movie memory was seeing E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial was when I was five years old. The feeling I felt watching it – the feeling of John Williams’ score soaring over the forest, into the sky, and ultimately, cresting on a hug and a simple close-up of a boy changed. That feeling … I wanted a part in its creation. Other movies included in this DIY collection included The Goonies, Gremlins, The Black Stallion and Empire of the Sun.
As a child, I would escape through storytelling. I’d close the door to my room and “jump around” (as my parents called it). For hours at a time, I would act, direct and write entire films – some original, some sequels to movies I loved (Gremlins 3 still exists in my mind). When Jim Carrey was unleashed onto the world, that opened up my curiosity to performance. I elasticized my face like his, spending hours in front of the mirror, contorting, mugging, talking with my butt. My parents were thrilled …
When I was 12, my family chose one wilderness for another. We moved to Pierre, South Dakota, when I was just starting middle school. I’m half-Indian (my mother is West Indian, hailing from Trinidad) and in 1999, I was the “darkest” kid in my middle school. I was an oddity. And I was often othered. I found solace in reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, sponging everything I could gleam of American culture. Ultimately, I took a page from my childhood chameleons and entered the musical theater world, where I found creative nourishment and, above all, belonging. I was the court jester. Humor and creativity was my cloak. And I was embraced for it. Being “from Madagascar” became a superpower. It was my identity. Even if, deep down, I still wasn’t quite sure WHO I was.
South Dakota remains a creative Mecca. The prairie horizon is both inspiring and humbling. I find the dissonance compelling. Nature itself refusing to be quantified or pigeonholed. Like the human condition itself. A benthic chasm. And I relate to that. Put me in a box, I’ll rebel … or I’ll wither. When I finally entered the world of filmmaking, I found myself gravitating not to a specific genre, but to a specific epoch of filmmaking— an era when films felt “made” – the 1970s. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Kramer vs Kramer. Sorcerer. Walkabout. I like a camera that shakes and wobbles. I like a cut that jars and breaks the stream of expectations. I like sounds that scream a purpose. And silence that screams louder yet. And music that compels audiences to actually feel.
Lost on a Mountain in Maine, my first larger-scale production after a decade of micro-budget filmmaking, is my latest quest in chasing that feeling. I believe cinema, no matter how specific the point of view, needs to be universal. I saw firsthand how Rocky and The Terminator spoke to Malagasy kids – as children, we revered these icons as gods – they conjured a feeling of possibility. Of redemption. In cinema, we can find ourselves. But for me, the question remained: who was I? What was my perspective? Which was I entitled to? If any at all?
In the past decade, the concept of identity became a firebrand. Friends and colleagues from all walks were planting flags and owning who they were. Surveys and submission forms were begging me to underline myself. Some of it felt genuine. Much of it felt superficial. A decision driven by economics rather than genuine talent. Even as doors were opening for worthy, diverse voices, a fear lingered in me about how long those doors would actually stay open, especially as post-Covid and post-strike aftershocks shook the industry. I was puzzled by all of it. Not because these attempts at diversifying filmmaking didn’t need to happen (they did). But because I realized that the identity I’d created to mold to the American way of life was no more than a skin I’d adapted to survive. The real me, who I was, was yet undefined.
What was I? I was mixed race. Half White. Half Indian. Also from Madagascar. I suddenly felt like I wasn’t enough. Or too much of too many things that I had no ownership of anything. In an industry where imposter syndrome is a common personality trait, the added layer of not knowing what ethnic category I fit into was at best disorienting. I had never been forced to grapple with the reality that I was a classic third-culture kid. Thank goodness for cinema. It saved me.
With every film I make, I discover subatomic sparks of myself. On my previous feature, Tater Tot & Patton, I realized that I hadn’t fully dealt with the loss of my mother. With Lost on a Mountain In Maine, it wasn’t until I was in the editing room did I realize I was making a film about WHO I was. A kid wanderer, seeking meaning in the natural order of the world, and returning ultimately to the balm of family, friends and community. When the world feels rudderless (Covid, war, politics, strikes), we look for people who moor us and remind us that everything will be OK. Life is either taking us on a raging ride or we’re swimming upstream against the froth. When in doubt, go back to the source.
Cinema is my horizon line. The feeling I chase lives beyond it. I hope (maybe fear) that I’ll be chasing that feeling for the rest of my life …
The chase is the point. Without it, there is no creation. It is the why behind everything. In directing Lost on a Mountain in Maine, I slowly peeled back WHO I am and discovered:
I am all of the above – the totality of my experiences and relationships – because the question WHO AM I? is the wrong question.
There is no question. I just am.
I am Andrew. I was born in Madagascar. I was raised by movies.
Featured image shows Andrew Boodhoo Kightlinger on the set of Lost on a Mountain in Maine (left) and as a young child in Madgascar (right). All images courtesy Andrew Boodhoo Kightlinger.
