Dramatic scenes, interviews and archival footage are employed in this genrebending account of the mysterious death of Cold War military scientist Frank Olson.
I’ve always looked at my films as experimental in nature and that I should always be trying things that are risky.
I know that I was blessed, I don’t know how else to describe it, with such a wide variety, such a diversity of material. We produced a lot of archival materials, stuff that I’d never seen before. When you’re really doing research, it’s a constant surprise. Do we ever have total information? Of course we don’t. We’re always putting together a partial picture based on fragments. This is certainly true in Wormwood. Originally, I wanted there to be a lot more drama. But we had to cut, really, 40 pages from the script just because of budgetary considerations. There were scenes we never shot. We used everything.
Did I learn something? I learned an enormous amount, if only that I learned I can work with actors. Actors like me and I like actors — we work well together and I’d like to do more. To work with actors and create actual drama, not re-enactment but actual drama as part of Wormwood. I have wanted for some time to incorporate drama into what I do. Someone asked me why I make movies, and I answered, “Well, I make movies so I can make more.” You do one, you finish it, and then it’s time to make something else. I call Wormwood “the everything bagel,” but I’d like to do more everything bagel projects. So more projects that use drama. In fact, I’d like to use it even more extensively but also use interview and archival material and home movies and the kitchen sink, if you like.
This story first appeared in a May stand-alone issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. To receive the magazine, click here to subscribe.
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