Director’s Statement
My parents are from Haiti and I grew up knowing that Haitians and Dominicans were bitter enemies. No one could explain the reasoning behind it, but it was clear that there was no love lost. I’m a romantic and found something intriguing behind the idea of two countries sharing one island, both with indigenous and African roots, both invaded by colonialists, and both with a beautiful yet tragic history. I was horrified when I finally learned the reason behind the hate and after many years of hard work, I’ve written and directed the short film, Cotton Candy. In the hopes that it can shed light on the past, so that history does not repeat itself.
Music is a major part of the film. The rhythms of Haitian Kompa, Dominican Bachata, Folkloric drumming/singing, and zouk reinforce the emotional aspects of the story. Visually, the film is surrealistic, raw, and engulfed in color. The edit flows from linear narratives, then breaks into fragmented dreamlike sequences, and includes a short documentary element to contextualize the story. Documentary photography is also used as transitional elements from scene to scene and captures the colorful environment of the Bronx Riviera/Orchard Beach. The colors are rich, warm, and saturated. The film was shot on a handheld camera, with natural outdoor light, and little lighting set-ups in the interior scenes. Casting Haitian and Dominican first-time actors who were related to each other added to the authenticity of the story. They were all vulnerable, and could relate to the story on a real level. I took inspiration from City of Gods, 400 Blows, Guava Island, and Annie Hall––leaning in on story, color, music, and ambiguity.
This story is personal. I recently lost my great-aunt in a tragic accident and was unable to attend her funeral in Haiti because of safety concerns. I felt paralyzed and could only help by sending money for her funeral. In Cotton Candy, both characters are motivated by the need to send money back to Haiti and the Dominican Republic. With no closure or opportunity to celebrate my great-aunt’s life, I dedicate this film to the tenacious woman who was “matant.”