King Coal was reviewed today in The New York Times where it received a Critics’ Pick!
You can stream the film on Amazon Prime!
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Appalachia
King Coal was reviewed today in The New York Times where it received a Critics’ Pick!
You can stream the film on Amazon Prime!
I began filming King Coal in 2019, but when COVID-19 kept us at home, I had time to start thinking more about the goals of this film as a piece of cinema, not just from a traditional documentary impact point of view. I sought out films that helped me break open the ways I had been telling stories. Above are some images from films that inspired my thinking behind King Coal. These are films that explore the myths of places, the dreams of children, hauntings and ghosts stories, dance and movement, surreal sound design, use voice-over narration as a guide, feature raw vérité moments, rely on mosaic structures, center children and/or women, employ wardrobe and production design as a form of storytelling, explore Afrofuturism and magical realism, use editing to create new worlds with a single cut, and where metaphors and symbolism are at the center of plot. There are many more films to be listed (“Badlands” by Terrence Malick also comes to mind when writing the voice over narration), but it felt like a very important part of my process to broaden my reference points outside of documentaries. I aimed to tell a story that was felt, but not always seen. That required me to employ cinematic tools I had never used before in vérité filmmaking.
Read Elaine’s full list of films that inspired thinking in King Coal here.
The film is a documentary that blends fictional and fable storytelling elements to tell a different story of coal. One way it does this is by centering the story on two West Virginia girls, Lanie Marsh and Gabby Wilson, who were cast for the roles at local dance studios. Some of the scenes they are featured in are real-life moments, like the West Virginia Coal Festival in Madison, W.Va. In those scenes, Lanie and Gabby were placed there to show what it’s like to be a kid, but the things they say and do in them are completely unscripted and unprompted. Other scenes, such as those featuring the girls dancing in front of coal piles or in surreal landscapes, were set up for the purposes of the film. But never were Lanie and Gabby given a script to read; they were asked to be themselves in every scene.
CAPTION: Director of photography, Curren Sheldon, and director, Elaine McMillion Sheldon, with their 3-month old baby while filming King Coal in Thurmond, West Virginia.
The writing process first began before filming started. I found myself drawn to a form of creative nonfiction that blended personal story with folklore. As we began to film King Coal the writing evolved and became a reaction to the footage itself. Some of the writing digs beneath the surface of what is being seen, like a coal dust 5K, to illuminate the psychology of coal as a cultural touchstone. My goal was to tell the truth, but without complete condemnation. Towards the end of the film the narration shifts from “I” and “me” to “we” and “us.” This collective sense of identity carries through to other aspects of the film. The script poses more questions than answers, something contributing writer and editor, Iva Radivojević, encouraged.
In the middle of production, I gave birth to my first child. Having a child really put into perspective the story I needed to voice through this film. I asked myself what I wanted to communicate about the history of Appalachia and the fading role of coal to the child I was bringing into the modern world. It became very important that this film didn’t just replace the negative ideas of Appalachia with beautiful ones, but instead allows the pain and strength to swirl around in order to allow for a slow absorption of contradictions, irony, and imagination. The process of making this film required a level of vulnerability and personal excavation that was challenging, but speaking to the next generation gave me courage. My initial resistance to being the narrator faded away as the team and I recognized that it was my voice that was most true to the writing, which is not always first-person, but always personal. Hats off to my contributing writers, Shane Boris, Logan Hill, Iva Radivojević, and Heather Hannah, who read countless drafts and edited for clarity, rhythm, and pacing.
The film started in 2019 by documenting coal culture, seen through coal dust runs, pageants, coal shoveling contests, and coal education in the classroom. Some of these things have been around since I was a kid in the coalfields. Co-Producer Molly Born and I sought these rituals and traditions out to document a living archive. One of our very first shoots for this film was in a classroom with kids. Fred Powers, a retired miner, told stories of his time in the mines, labor disputes, and fatalities. He had no “kid filter” to his message about coal — it was neither pro or anti-coal, it was simply his story. Fred impressed us with his ability to walk the fine line of honoring the past, while calling out the injustices. The kids impressed us with their attention, curiosity, humor, and enthusiasm. It was clear, when the students asked “what is that?” as Fred held up a piece of coal, that this story of coal was not one of their own making, but instead one that was being handed down to them. As we documented the coalfields, it quickly became clear these coal-related rituals were dying traditions. Many of them were traditions born out of people’s fears of “the king” dying. So I started to ask — what new rituals do we need in life and in film to help us live? This led us to think more about the already-blurred lines between myth and reality, of the power and influence of coal, when it comes to life in the coalfields.
I am writing with exciting news that my latest feature film, "King Coal," will have its world premiere at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival.
I am so excited to be premiering in the NEXT section - a program that features "visionary works distinguished by an innovative, forward-thinking approach to storytelling."
As many of you know, I have been working on this film since 2019, and I am extremely grateful to everyone who has helped me get to this stage of finishing. This film is truly a new creative exploration for me - and departure from my previous work - so to have the support of Sundance is incredible.
I just wanted to say THANK YOU as so many of you have been longtime supporters of me and this film.
Logline: The cultural roots of coal continue to permeate the rituals of daily life in Appalachia even as its economic power wanes. The journey of a coal miner’s daughter exploring the region’s dreams and myths, untangling the pain and beauty, as her community sits on the brink of massive change.
SPECIAL THANKS
to supporters:
Creative Capital, USA Artists, The John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, Tribeca Film Institute, West Virginia Humanities Council, Catapult Film Fund, Field of Vision, Chicken & Egg, The University of Tennessee School of Art, Documentary Educational Resources - and many, many others!
to the team:
Katherine Drexler (EP) Heather Baldry (EP), Peggy Drexler (producer), Diane Becker (producer), Shane Boris (producer), Curren Sheldon (DP, co-producer), Iva Radivojević (editor), Molly Born (co-producer), Billy Wirasnik (production sound), Clara Haizlett (associate producer), Elijah Stevens (associate producer), Celia Rowlson-Hall (choreography), Shodekeh Talifero (breath percussion), Bobak Lotfipour (original score), Logan Hill (writing consultant) - and so many more.
Family and friends (so many!)
The Marsh Family, The Wilson Family, The McMillion Family, The Sheldon Family.
Forgive me, if failed to mention you here!
The Last Forest by G.D. McNeill is a work of fiction, but its emotional resonance and portrayal of environmental destruction feel deeply real. Through the eyes of its characters, McNeill presents a gripping and sorrowful account of a wilderness lost to the forces of industrialization and human greed. Although set in a fictionalized version of Appalachia, the story's themes echo real-world events, offering a powerful reflection on the irreversible impact of deforestation.
The novel begins in an idyllic, almost mythical forest, a childhood paradise for the narrator and his family, before slowly unraveling into a scene of devastation. McNeill’s The Last Forest takes readers on a journey that starts in innocence and wonder and ends in disillusionment and loss.
“G.D. and Uncle Dock’s part of it ran for 60 unbroken miles beyond our Pinnacle Mountain, a quarter million acres of hardwood forest.”
The story begins in what seems like an Edenic wilderness, a forest teeming with life, stretching for 15 million acres from the top of the Allegheny range to the banks of the Ohio River. In this fictional world, the narrator’s childhood memories are of a place where nature exists in perfect balance, largely untouched by human hands. It is a place of wild beauty, where eastern bison roam freely, and streams are filled with trout so plentiful that they are poured “like a silver cataract” into his mother’s dishpans. These scenes of abundance illustrate a world where humans live in harmony with nature.
The young narrator recalls standing in the kitchen, watching the men bring in their catch: “silver-sided, orange-bellied, red-speckled trout that G.D. called the ‘speckled beauties.’” The bounty of the forest is taken for granted, but the reader is soon made aware that this balance will not last. The forest, with its “long pavilions of shade” and “clear rolling rivers,” seems timeless and eternal—but as the novel progresses, the fragility of this world becomes evident.
“When it all changed, it was not suddenly. There was no sudden summer or sudden fall; but gradually, as the years moved by, the song turned sour,” McNeill writes.
In The Last Forest, McNeill takes care to show that the destruction of this paradise was not immediate. The story charts the slow, creeping disappearance of the Appalachian forest, a loss that happens in small, incremental steps—each seemingly insignificant until the cumulative effect becomes overwhelming.
The fictionalized timeline traces the encroachment of industry, beginning in the 1880s when the first white pine trees were cut and floated downriver. Uncle Dock’s hopeful insistence that “by God, they can't take her; she’s too big for them” becomes tragically ironic as the story unfolds. The arrival of the railroad in 1900 marks a turning point in the novel. What was once thought to be too remote and vast to be destroyed is now accessible, as McNeill describes the Italian workers carving through the steep river cuts to lay the tracks that will allow the hardwood trees to be harvested.
“Up at town, brick-and-brownstone houses were built; hardware stores and whiskey stills flourished, and boardwalks were laid down.”
As the lumber industry booms in the novel, towns are transformed. Wealth floods in, and prosperity seems to follow. But McNeill makes it clear that this prosperity is fleeting. The quick wealth of the lumber industry comes at a cost, especially to the forest itself. The heavy hardwood trees, once thought untouchable, are felled and sent out by log trains, and soon, the landscape bears the scars.
The novel paints a bleak picture of the aftermath. The rivers turn muddy, suffocating the trout with sawdust in their gills. Forest fires spread unchecked, and the once-majestic trees are left to rot on the hillsides. McNeill writes, capturing the heartbreak of a forest fighting a losing battle.
“They saw the roots of the great stumps sticking up three feet above the burned-out topsoil as though they still tried to clutch to the Earth”
One of the most powerful moments in The Last Forest comes when the character Zeke returns to the mountains after years away, only to find the forest he loves unrecognizable. In a passage laden with symbolism, Zeke boards a slow-moving train that stops at countless small lumber plants, revealing just how much the industry has infiltrated the once-remote wilderness. As Zeke reflects on the "monotonous buzzing" of the saws cutting through the logs of ancient trees, he becomes increasingly uneasy.
When Zeke finally arrives, the sight that greets him is devastating. The house where he once spent his childhood has collapsed, the garden has grown wild, and the river that was once clear is now black and vile-smelling. McNeill describes Zeke's shock: "Where the garden had been there lay a weed-grown heap of tumbled brick, marking the spot where the boilers of the abandoned mill had rested." The woods, too, have changed beyond recognition. The great oaks that once lined the river’s bluffs are gone, and the hills, once covered in forest, have been reduced to bare, eroded slopes.
Zeke’s sense of loss is palpable as he surveys the damage. The great trees that had once been "personal friends" to him have been felled, and in their place, a wasteland stretches as far as the eye can see. His sorrow reflects the broader tragedy of the novel—the irreversible loss of a landscape and a way of life.
"If I’d dreamed it was like this, I’d never a asked ye tu come up here," Zeke laments.
Despite the destruction, McNeill’s narrator clings to the memory of the forest as it once was. The fictional world of The Last Forest is haunted by a deep, mystical connection to the wilderness. Even after its destruction, the narrator holds onto a vision of the forest, untarnished and untouched in his imagination.
"In my obsession and possession, the hunter men still walked. The great trees lifted forever across my vision, and the sounding water still ran.”
This dream of the forest, though, is just that—a dream. It remains distant, always just out of reach, "moving before The Seekers like the sun." The tragedy of The Last Forest lies not only in the physical destruction of the wilderness but also in the shattering of the idealized vision of nature that can never be reclaimed.
Though The Last Forest is a work of fiction, its themes are rooted in real-world events. McNeill’s novel mirrors the actual deforestation of Appalachia that occurred during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, as industrial logging swept through the region. In this way, the novel serves as both a fictional account and a powerful allegory for real life. The story offers a timeless lesson about the dangers of unchecked industrialization. We are reminded that the destruction of nature often happens slowly, in small steps, until it becomes too late to reverse. The Last Forest is not just a story about the past; it is a warning for the future.
I'm excited to be one of many filmmakers who will be documenting America this Election Day for a new documentary tentatively titled, "11-8-16." We're spread across the country filming in all corners with Americans from all walks of life. I will spend my day (starting at 4:30 am) with a coal miner named Eric. I'll go underground with him all day, then follow him to the voting booth and back home to see the results.
Check out the film's website and this article about it.
Also, we will be Periscoping during the day. So follow that here.
We took our film to pitch at the Points North Institute!
Read this great article about the #NewStoryWV event. Thanks to the Charleston Gazette-Mail for quoting my thoughts on long-form and "positive" and "negative" coverage in the media:
Asked what she was doing currently to “change the narrative” and what new stories she was working on, she outlined her new project inspired by West Virginia’s opioid epidemic.
“Right now, I am producing a film about four guys in recovery from heroin,” she said. “When I say I’m making a film about the opioid epidemic, I get a lot of eye rolls. And that’s unfortunate because I actually think these guys can teach everyone in this room a lot. They’re a lot like the state — they’ve hit rock bottom in a lot of ways, and they’ve seen a lot of hard times and now they are building themselves back up and becoming a new person.
“So, I hope that that story is one that will bring a different type of conversation around addiction and how we got ourselves into this problem. Let’s stop saying this is purely negative because when we say that’s a purely negative story, we’re quantifying those stories as unimportant, that we shouldn’t be telling those stories and those people already feel silenced. So let’s not do that.”
We're so excited to take "Rescue Breath" to BritDoc's Good Pitch NYC! Read more here.
Logline: When his son holds up a bank while high on heroin, a successful doctor who re-invented the urgent care system is forced out of retirement to battle the opioid epidemic that has swept through his home state of West Virginia. Now with his son's future in the balance, can he save hundreds of lives and families from a similar fate and change how we treat addiction in America?
This morning we went into full-tourist mode and rode the incline. It was beautiful
When: Feb. 27 at 4-6pm
What: Join us for a live recording of the podcast with Almudena Toral, a thought leader in digital journalism. In this intimate conversation, we'll explore Almudena's international multimedia reporting and her goals as the new Creative Visual Manager at Univision. We will also journey into her background, her lightbulb moments and turning points, her philosophies, and what makes her tick. The event will include live music by Inez Barlatier and audience interaction.
Where: Deauville Beach Resort: 6701 Collins Avenue Miami, FL
Get your ticket here
Description: The storytelling power of audio—with envisioned characters and imagined scenes—presents rich opportunities for innovative approaches to the digital terrain. From the podcasting boom to new forms of interactive documentary, the capacity of sound, voice, writing, and layered narratives to spark the imagination extends outside the box (radio, tablet, smartphone) to reach people where they are and to inspire engagement, and possibly changes of heart.
Panelists: ANAYANSI DIAZ-CORTES, AL LETSON, ELAINE SHELDON
Moderated by: JOHN BIEWEN
I'm answering all your questions about documentary filmmaking, podcasting, and production in this Kickstarter Creators Hangout. The discussion will be live-tweeted through @KickstarterTips
This week on She Does, we have the talented co-directors of the fantastic documentary, "Frame by Frame."
DESCRIPTION: Mo Scarpelli and Alexandria Bombach are documentary filmmakers and co-directors of award-winning film "Frame by Frame.” The documentary follows four Afghan photojournalists as they face the realities of building a free press in a country left to stand on its own after decades of war and rule under the oppressive Taliban regime. The film had its world premiere at SXSW 2015, has screened over 50 times, garnered several awards, was voted one of the Top 10 Audience Favorites at Hot Docs Film Festival, and is nominated for a Cinema Eye Honors Award for Spotlight Doc. Right now, Mo and Alexandria are knee-deep in an Academy Award campaign for the film. “Frame by Frame” is opening for a week-long run in New York on Nov 20 at the IFC Center.
Mo and Alexandria are extremely self-sufficient women and filmmakers-- both having worked alone on most of their film projects before this one. They both started their own film companies and both have carved out their own niches; Mo in the documentary and journalism world and Alexandria in the outdoor filmmaking world.
In this episode, we talk about how they came to the medium of film, reporting international stories, filming in Afghanistan, their dedication to stunning cinematography, earning the trust of your subjects, the responsibility and weight of releasing stories into the world, holding onto empathy, the perils of co-directing, how to reconnect with relationships after disconnecting to make a film, and how to maintain belonging and community when living out of a suitcase.
This post is for anyone interested in how or why we made Hollow. We're fortunate to get alot of interest and inquiries from folks asking about how the project came about, how it was developed, what made it successful and what the response has been. So to help answer these questions, and more, we have compiled some links below :
I'm excited to participate in #DocForum2015 at the Center for Documentary Studies at Duke University this year!
On Saturday, November 21 at 3:30 p.m., I will be sitting on a panel with Al Letson and Anayansi Diaz-Cortes. The panel, titled "AUDIO & NEW FORMS | Interactions and Impact: Possibilities for Listening," will be moderated by John Biewen and should be loads of fun! Come and join us for a conversation about storytelling across platforms and mediums.
Tickets just went on sale today. Reserve your seat!
Do you make media and/or art? Do you live in Appalachia?
If you answered yes to those questions, you should get on a new database of makers in the region. I'm creating a list of those of us who make media in the region, in hopes that we can start collaborating and make better work! If you want your name to be featured on the list get in touch below.
For the sake of keeping things less complicated, I'm looking for folks who do: video, film, editing, writing, animation, design, illustration, photography, interactive media, technology, audio, journalism, music, exhibitions, installation art, etc.
IMPORTANT: You have to make work from or about Appalachia. You must be interested in collaboration and not just self-promotion.
Not sure if your city/town is in Appalachia? Check out this map courtesy of Looking at Appalachia.
I'm currently in-production on a new documentary project focusing on the farmers, researchers, politicians and business men and women that are reintroducing hemp back into Kentucky's (post-coal and tobacco) economy. It's a super exciting story to follow and watch the industry unfold. Kentucky's history with hemp is deep-rooted, but our nation's relationship is complicated. I will have more to share in late June, but follow me on Instagram for occasional field updates.