I grew up without a father, whose presence in my youth was comprised of rare, brief and often cryptic appearances. Yet, over time a black-and-white resentment began to complicate with shades of grey. Without vindicating him, I began to consider his perspective, imagining his thoughts and feelings in an attempt to grasp an emotional logic in his seemingly incoherent behavior.
Thus, Francis is the carrying out of one such reimagining. It is a deeply personal exploration of the internal dynamics of a fraught father-son relationship. It is the study of a man who has long alluded me, but whose qualities, both virtue and vice, I am increasingly finding in myself. It is a specific vehicle for the cinematic examination of universal notions of parental responsibility, traditional masculinity and unbridled love.
I am no longer seeking answers from my father. Rather, I am searching for his subjectivity, for his essence, for the humanity that we share. This story allows me to continue that search.