Filmmaker and actor Karl Jacob‘s newest film, Cold November, is the second installment in a trilogy on the culture of Northern Minnesota. Drawing on his own experiences growing up in a matriarchal household in the region, Jacob crafted an intimate portrait of the familial ritual of hunting, a subject that intersects with contemporary conversations about firearms.
An excerpt from Cold November will screen at the Walker Art Center on Thursday September 15 at part of Cinema of Urgency: Local Voices, a showcase of contemporary works by Minnesota filmmakers who connect national debates to specific districts, funding, and infrastructure. In advance of the program I connected with Jacob to discuss the film. This is the fourth interview with each of the filmmakers featured in Thursday’s program: Remy Auberjonois, E.G. Bailey, D.A. Bullock, Mahmoud Ibrahim and Nathan Fisher, Dawn Mikkelson, Keri Pickett, and Norah Shapiro.
The beginning of Cold November depicts the film’s protagonist, Florence, playing in a cardboard village before being ushered to bed by her grandmother, a sequence that clearly establishes her youth and innocence. Why did you decide to begin the film with a sequence of Florence playing?
To be honest, the scene was originally just an experiment, but then became much more important as the writing process went on. I was working with a group of writers, led by my friend Jacob Krueger, on some character work, and this scene was a result of the process. It’s stayed identical to the first draft almost beat for beat, and it was the very first page I wrote of the script. As the writing went on the matchbox cars became a bigger player in the overall story arc, and an important piece of the puzzle, which was nice to discover. When the full film becomes available, you’ll be able to see how this unfolds. Twelve is admittedly a little old to be hanging on to a tiny toy city, but there’s a reason.
The sequences of Florence playing emphasize her youth and childlike qualities. Do you mind speaking more about the decision to center the story on an innocent, or even morally unimpeachable, young woman?
The focus on the age of 12 is derived from ancient human ritual. There is a near omnipresent tradition in cultures throughout the world that centers around the 11- or 12-year old transitioning away from childhood. For a long time in human history this has historically been the period when kids go through a ceremony to become adults. Examples range from the Jewish Bat Mitzvah to communal near-death beatings. Rituals that focus on death experience as the main goal are the most common, among a wide range of groups. As I personalized and compared this knowledge with my own “death ritual” of killing a deer at the age of 11, it became clear that the story had to be about a young woman: I was raised by six women, my mother taught me how to gut out a deer, and my grandmother taught me how to shoot my first gun. The fact that each of them had also gone through this ritual as kids seemed like the most interesting and salient way to approach telling the story. Also having them as a resource while I was writing the script was obviously crucial, as I have never been a 12-year-old girl. The insight and talent that the actress Bijou Abas brought to the role of Florence was also crucial. The character would not have been the same without her commitment to developing Florence completely.
Tradition and family are clearly very important to the film’s narrative. Even though it’s a fictional feature, did you draw on personal experience to craft the story?
Since early development, I’ve thought of this film as a hybrid piece. Cold November is a story that has been in my mind since I went through the process of learning how to hunt and kill a deer myself, many years ago. My family is very important to me, and they played a big role in making this film happen. We shot the film on family land during deer hunting season, and I literally couldn’t do it any other way. It would have been impossible. My parents, aunts, uncles, and grandma were actually hunting while we were simultaneously shooting. I did this by design because I wanted the film to feel lived in, and I wanted to use real animals in the movie. There is a scene of all of the women skinning a deer together, and a scene of Florence field dressing a deer, and those scenes are effectively documentary, but using actors instead of the people who actually killed the deer themselves. Everyone in my family was very supportive and they were on hand to coach, assist, and make sure the animals were dealt with in a way that preserved the meat in line with the family tradition. I also think they were very invested in the movie because I am effectively documenting this personal ritual that is admittedly unique for most modern Americans, despite it being an ancient survival ritual. A semi-tangential fun fact is that I am a vegetarian, and so is the cinematographer.
How did consideration of economics shape the world you create in the film? What kinds of financial resources did you envision Florence and her family as having at their disposal?
It’s funny that you are asking me that right now because I have been thinking a lot about economic influence since I last watched the latest cut of the film. I think Florence’s family will likely come across as a middle-class family, which I believe makes sense for the time frame of the movie. One of the goals of the film was to accurately portray the region, and Hibbing has had a long history of being both middle class, and a place where economic downturns can happen fast when the mines shut down. I think we definitely reflect all of these points in the film. The idea of needing to live off the land being right around the corner definitely drove the building of the story world and characters. In related news, I’m in development on a new project right now that centers around one of the seemingly biggest economic coups in American history that also took place in Hibbing in the early 1900s. I think the current economic conditions of our region and disparity in the country in general has influenced both Cold November and my new project.
Though the film focuses on familial ritual and hunting, its portrayal of hunting—and, by extension, guns—clearly, intersects with contemporary political debates surrounding gun control and the Second Amendment. Did you intend the film as a political intervention or for it to take a political stance?
I never intended the film to take a political stance, but I definitely realize its political importance. I also personally value the tradition of living off the land, which my immediate family has done and continues to do to an extent. It’s what got my grandparents through the Great Depression. Guns play an important role as a tool in that lifestyle, and I think that lifestyle perhaps has not been portrayed that much, if at all, in popular media. As I discover the place that Cold November can have in gun discourse, I’m excited at the prospect of the film being seen by someone who has maybe spent their entire life in a city. One’s relationship with guns is completely different when they are not being used primarily as objects of war, which is effectively the case in most urban living. You’re not shooting squirrels with a 12-gauge in Loring Park, you know? I think I am a bit of an anomaly as a predominantly liberal, urban-living vegetarian who values the importance of gun ownership. I think the world needs to know that people like me exist and that perhaps the “gun debate” is not as simple as the NRA vs. The Liberals. There are nuances to every issue, and having compassion with someone’s story that is different than your own is important. I mean, it’s the foundation of what our country is supposed to stand on, right? For that reason I am proud to be adding this angle to the conversation.
Get Walker Reader in your inbox. Sign up to receive first word about our original videos, commissioned essays, curatorial perspectives, and artist interviews.