Alessandra Lacorazza, Sasha Calle, Lío Mehiel on “In the Summers” | Interviews

Despite its expansive scale, Alessandra Lacorazza’s “In the Summers” thrives in the smaller moments, prioritizing the ways we wear complex emotions in our bodies far better than we can ever hope to articulate through words. The film, which won the U.S. Dramatic Grand Jury Prize at Sundance, focuses on sisters, Eva and Violeta, who every Summer, visit their father, Vincente (René Pérez aka Residente) in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Despite Vincente’s best efforts to hide his vices and demons from his daughters, Eva and Violeta get an uncomfortably intimate and front-seat view of his anger and brokenness, even as they’re uplifted by his genuine love and care for them.

Different actresses play the sisters each Summer, and Sasha Calle and Lío Mehiel play the adult versions of Eva and Violeta, respectively, their characters crystallizing the complicated storm of emotions accumulated from the past three Summers we’ve witnessed. The power of Lacorazza’s film lies in its haunting restraint; rather than let these simmering sentiments crescendo into an explosive and vociferous fallout, the film instead roots its devastation in what goes unsaid. Eva and Violeta have to find solace in between their father’s mood swings; the aftermath of their father’s violent diatribes is the only place for them to be in tune with their emotions and bodies before the cycle of abuse and love starts again.

Lacorazza, who recently was honored as a Breakthrough Director nominee by the Gotham Film and Media Institute,  welcomed the challenge of depicting a father figure, particularly a Latinx father figure, in all of his multi-dimensional complexity. “I wanted to honor this idea of a complicated father that feels multifaceted and doesn’t feel stereotyped. I wanted to show the beauty of this person while not shying away from the heartbreak and terror,” Lacroazza said. For Calle, the range of emotions the characters (and, therefore, the audience) go through is an aspect that drew her to the project. “Pain is laughter and sadness … I was in love with [this script’s poetry,” she said. For Lío, they highlighted the camaraderie formed by working with the younger actresses that played their characters. “To be able to see memory play out in front of you and for you to have that image imprinted inside your mind to help you act is eye-opening,” they shared.

Lacorazza, Calle, and Mehiel spoke with RogerEbert.com over Zoom, and the trio shared about building on-screen connectivity with the younger actresses, how to honor and be honest when depicting familial trauma on-screen, and how scenes of food can be a way into honest performance.

This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Alessandra, I know you’ve been working on this script since 2018. How has it evolved since then? For Sasha and Lío, I’m curious at what point you entered the process … whether it was draft 3 or draft 15.

AL: I had a very rough first draft that I was plugging away at in 2018. The structure was pretty much there, as were the plot points. I’m a layer-er, if that’s a word, with my writing. With each iteration of this story, I saw it as the soul entering into the script; all those details that got added in, modified, or taken out greatly differ in how you perceive the material. Each version of this script was a process of perfecting the beats and adding in many details. The biggest change happened in the editing room because we had scripted and shot footage for five summers instead of four. In the editing room, we combined some of them, which made the ending vastly different from what we had initially shot.

LM: I received this script a few months before we started shooting. The producers had seen “Mutt,” a film I was in at Sundance in 2023, and they wanted to connect me with Alessandra. I was taken not only by the story but also by the style of the writing … it was like pure poetry on the page. It’s rare for a first-time director to translate that onto the screen. What we see in “In the Summers” is so subtle, soft, and warm, and those emotions were always there in the drafts I was reading. As an artist and lover of poetry, I was drawn to this world and had an immediate sense of trust in Alessandra as an artist. Then I got to sit and talk with her for an hour or two and immediately connected; we talked about our dad’s issues, the ways our lives could have been different or similar as queer people. Those conversations were key to helping me honor the slice of the story I would be telling.

SC: For me, it was a much more serendipitous and extroverted beginning, which is very beautiful and very Latin of us (laughs). In Hollywood, there are spaces for Latin Americans to congregate and be around each other, which is beautiful. I had been attending a couple of these gatherings, and at one party, two of the film’s producers, Sergio and Lynette, came up to me. I hadn’t met them before, and they said, “Oh my God, you’re in our movie! We start so soon!” I looked at Leslie Grace, one of my best friends who was already attached to the film, and said, “Who are these people?” Then they all said, “Let’s take a cast photo!” and grabbed Lío, me, and Leslie. You have to be respectful in those spaces, so I went along.

It was hilarious and confusing, and I didn’t know what was happening. Leslie then looked at me like, “Sis. It’s okay. Trust me, I’ll explain it in a second.” After this cast photo, I went with Leslie to the bathroom, and she started explaining the script to me and that Lío and René were attached. She explains the story to me, but simultaneously tells me, “This script is beautiful; I can’t spoil it for you … you must read it.” Then I received the script the next day, Alessandra and I met, and I joined the project.

You joined the film without even knowing!

Yeah, there were so many factors why I had to do this film. As Lío said, when I read this script, I was in love with its poetry. Then, when I met with Ali, it was a no-brainer. She was a Columbian queer woman just like me. The beautiful thing about her, as a director, queer woman of color, and human being, is that she embraces all of us individually in the most beautiful way and understands us and can give us what we need, and was also so gracious to trust us with something so personal to her.

Ali, I had to walk into a screening midway through. This was the first time I had seen the film since Sundance, but when I walked in, I started sobbing immediately. I had black eyeliner, bro, and I was trying not to cry, but I couldn’t. I was like, “Okay, cool. Here’s our movie.” Every time I see it, I’m so proud and impacted. Now that we’re Zooming here, I wanted to thank you so much. It was great to work with you both.

The bonds y’all have been able to form throughout production translated well to the screen, too. You get the whole gamut of emotions; I think of the tension of the scene where your characters are making masa harina to then the fun y’all have in the waterpark. There’s laughter, and there’s crying, often at the same time.

SC: Moments like that make you cry even more. It’s so human because pain is laughter and sadness. At a screening I was at recently, in that masa scene you mentioned, Lío, I was staring at you the whole time. I was so moved by how you would react towards my character’s pain and turn towards it courageously … it was so beautiful.

AL: That emotional juxtaposition was important for me to balance in this film. That’s life, isn’t it? At least, that’s how my family deals with trauma where we’re deeply affected by tragic circumstances, then in the next moment, we’re cracking up about something, and then we go back to crying. In my film, I like how audiences are taken to a place that’s dark and difficult, and then I can give them a release; the tender moments and the harsh moments get amplified as a result. If something has one tone, it can still be beautiful but I am more touched if I can experience a fuller range of emotions personally.

To that point about balance, what’s interesting is that so much of this film is about what’s not shown. We get these summers but not much else, and a lot happens in between that we aren’t privy to as the audience. What went into deciding what to show vs not show or to explain? I’m curious for Lío and Sasha if y’all filled the narrative gaps in yourself.

AL: Those “gaps” are just as important as what we see. When we went into filming, I needed to have the full story of everything that happened in between, and I encouraged every actor to have their own mythology. Sometimes the respective backstories we came up with were different. Still, I don’t think those differences mattered as much because the main thing was when we were filming, we entered into those summers with a certain heaviness and baggage from the Winter, Spring, and Fall we didn’t see. That dissonance was the most paramount Especially working with René who is the one constant in all these Summers, he’s the one who goes through a huge transformation and it was key to have a consistent story about what was clear to him about what happened in between. When was the last time he spoke with his daughters? Did he talk to them at all?

For me, the intention behind the whole film was just to show a snippet of life and to be able to understand a complicated figure in those small moments and then also trust the audience to come up with their narratives with the film. Within the scenes, I got really lucky to have incredible actors who could carry those invisible histories in their characters. It’s not always the case that actors can carry the weight of what’s happening emotionally on their faces and convey that. But even with the lack of dialogue, everyone delivered.

SC: It was weird … watching the film again, I was like, “I don’t think I speak much in this film.” It was something I never noticed. It was a beautiful thing to reflect upon.

LM: I mean that whole first sequence, when we get to our dad’s house, I think your first line is “Do you have a beer?” Then your next line a couple of beats later is “We’re out of beer” (laughs). But you’re going through this whole emotional journey between those lines about beer. Later on in that scene, Sasha’s character starts pulling off the petals from a flower. The simplicity of that action so struck me. I may be projecting, I’m not sure if this is what y’all were thinking Alessandra or Sasha, but each time she pulled out a petal I was thinking: maybe she’s saying “He [my father] loves me, he loves me not.” In just that rhythm, you’re also almost asking yourself, “Do I feel safe here?” Watching you, Sasha, was just breaking my heart. That singular action and the truth of the pain on your face was all we needed to know about your emotional state, even if you didn’t have much dialogue for those first ten minutes you were on-screen.

SC: I got comfortable seeing my character not speak … that’s why when she says, “Do you have beer?” I was like, “Why is she talking?” (laughs). But thank you, Lío. Alessandra was intentional with each actor and had a very intentional point of conversation with each actor. I’m very in tune with my emotions, which guides a lot of my performance. I have to embody the emotion that’s being communicated in a scene. Alessandra would allow me to get there where she’d let me do one take of a scene for myself, allowing me to just be in a moment and get ready. By the end, I got into this super rewarding rhythm, where I didn’t have to ask for that take.

What was it like to craft that sisterly dynamic together, especially when you had to honor the work done by the people playing your character before?

LM: I think the production and costume design played a big role. At a basic level, I was in these blue and green tones for my character, and white Sasha was in those orange, pink, and purple tones. We aren’t twins in the film, but the way the camera focused on us gave off this sense that we’re two sides of the same coin and represented different results of René’s parenting, or lack thereof.

SC: The beautiful thing, too, is that Lío and my morals, values, and what we think it means to be a human being are similar, which is sort of what I was trying to get at Sundance. It helped build this idea of us being siblings because when you have a sibling so close in age to you, you have this respect and safety with one another. I think Lío and I felt that, truly, we could love each other distinctly because of this shared safety we felt with each other.

AL: Our days were long and hectic … we were sometimes shooting two or three Summers in a given day, which meant all the actresses were on set simultaneously. I think everyone being together on set helped make that continuity more believable.

SC: It speaks to your direction, Ali. My brain was being pulled in so many different directions, and there were many times when I wanted to control and watch all the takes of the younger actresses’ performances. But I had to let go and trust that even if I didn’t have a chance to see my younger counterparts’ performances, I was doing what Alessandra needed me to do to the best of my ability. It wasn’t until I saw the movie that I realized every version of Eva felt the same. It was a testament to Alessandra’s guidance.

AL: Something I did with the two middle actors, Allison and Kimaya, was to have them enter a space at different periods to help develop that memory. I’d send Sasha certain scenes when she wasn’t on set, and I’d have Lío come to set to watch an emotionally charged scene. I did want to avoid forcing them to pick up any mannerisms from each other.  When you imitate mannerisms, you’re sometimes more focused on doing that than being fully present and aware. It was just about knowing how to connect and emotionally understand the characters’ arcs.

LM: It was really powerful to be on set and watch scenes from Violeta’s early childhood and teenage years, almost as if you’re seeing your memories embodied in real-time. To be able to see memory play out in front of you and for you to have that image imprinted inside your mind to help you act is eye-opening. I think of those scenes where I was making breakfast in the morning and how my performance there can be modeled by the fact that I saw a younger version of me learn how to make that same breakfast with René’s character a Summer or two ago. It’s a unique experience because it’s very rare that you have that opportunity as an actor, especially on an indie film, but even in larger sets, to get into externalizing imagery as an actor.

I didn’t do much work to necessarily fill in the gaps of what happened between all the summers. I did internal work to understand how the relationship with my sister and dad was affecting me physically. How do these tensions sit in my body? They used to sit on my shoulders, but now they sit on my stomach, etc. I tried to physicalize them and identify what my body may have been feeling on the journey.

So that was fascinating, and I didn’t do that much work around what exactly happened in between all the summers, but what I did do was understand what my dynamic was with my sister and with my dad and try to figure out how that has been evolving. How does that sit in my body? It used to sit on my shoulders, but now it sits in my stomach and whatever. Just physicalizing it and trying to identify where in the journey we are. Yeah, that’s all I have to say about that.

Well, things sitting in the stomach: While this movie did make me laugh and tear up, it also made me hungry. The role food plays in this film is fascinating, serving as a way to isolate but also build further camaraderie. I’m curious if you all have thought more about the significance of the scenes involving food in this film. 

AL: There was even more food in the script. It probably speaks to my food obsession and how I relate to my family via food. But as you said, food is such a place of connection. I also think of the candy that’s shared between characters. If there’s a distance between people, they can share a meal or snack, and it’s a way to connect without having to say anything emotionally charged.

SC: Did we see us eating that terrible candy in the ending scene?

LM: We did, yeah.

AL: I think Lío liked the terrible candy, though.

SC: I think we only started liking it after we ate it.

LM: It had this nasty aftertaste, but if you kept eating more, you wouldn’t get to the aftertaste.

SC: I want to add to what Alessandra said. We must remember that this is a Latin American film, and our culture is heavily involved with food. Giving food is a love language for us. I can speak for Columbians, but in Columbia, you walk into a family gathering and have three courses in one meal. There’s the sopa, rice, meat … people just want to keep feeding you all day. I say, “I have nowhere else to put food in my body.” But it’s all an act of love. I loved those food moments in the film since it underscores that.

LM: Totally unrelated, but I love eating in scenes as an actor. It gives you something to do, and you can’t lie about it. You can’t be false when eating because you’d choke, and it would be weird (laughs). I love the task of getting to chew on something, and you have to think through, “Okay, I’m trying to have this emotionally charged conversation, but my mouth is full.” It all feels very alive and sensory and gets me into my body. I don’t know if you guys remember this, but Brad Pitt, in almost all of his early movies, is eating in every scene.

SC: No way.

LM: It’s his thing. He’s just always eating, and it gives him this sort of confidence but also “I don’t give a fuck” energy because he’s just eating Doritos or candy.  He’s just relaxed, and that’s such a way into honest performance that people forget about. So I feel like it’s also just an acting hack, which I love.

This film isn’t a straight autobiography of any of your lives, but the film does deal with the fallout of parental failure. As creatives, how do you all approach how to depict or process familial trauma … where’s this line between honoring them and also being honest?

AS: Well, my dad is dead. I’ve been asked this, and I’m like, “I don’t know if I would have been able to make this film if he were alive.” I wanted to honor this idea of a complicated father that feels multifaceted and doesn’t feel stereotyped. I wanted to show the beauty of this person while not shying away from the heartbreak and terror. I wanted the audience to be able to feel and see both sides and then make their judgment on who this person is. But I think in all of my work, whether it has more autobiographical elements or not, you’re always trying to get to a truth, and to get to a truth, it’s the best and easiest way for me is to tap into something that feels true to me or inside of me. Sometimes, the honesty felt like tapping into something more autobiographical, and sometimes, the honesty felt like exploring this emotion through another method.

LM: To speak to your point about not having Vincente be stereotypical, historically, representations of Latina fathers on screen have been: “Oh, here’s a father that’s dealing with addiction. Here’s an absent father. Here’s an abusive father.” There isn’t full access to the story outside those archetypal representations. What’s so beautiful about this movie, I think, is that Vicente is the one who carries us through all the summers, and so we get to see how much he loves his kids and how much, even though he’s messed up, he doesn’t let his shame get the better of him all the time. Sometimes, he does but doesn’t in the end and wants to show up again. That model of what fatherhood can look like is really powerful to me because I feel like oftentimes fathers are kind of pushed to the side and being like, “Oh, if you’re absent, don’t ever come back. You messed up as a father, so there’s no second chance you did this thing. You struggle with this thing that’s on you.” This film exemplifies, “Hey, you could have been absent when they were young, but it’s ever too late to try again.”

That representation felt powerful for me, especially since we’re at this moment in Hollywood and in filmmaking, where we’re just starting to be able to tell our own stories. We’re getting access to financing and taking the power back, not waiting for the studios to permit us. When we can do that, we have this responsibility to represent our community and honor ourselves because we can show all the nuance and subtlety that, when other people are telling our stories, doesn’t make it into the script or the film.

In the Summers is available for viewing on digital platforms now.