BRING ON THE DANCING HORSES
When asked what horses mean to me, there are different stories I can tell you. I can explain the intense competitive dedication I experience when entering a showjumping arena. I can articulate the joy I have when working with challenged children and observing their peace when clutching the wild mane and gazing into those soulful equine eyes. I can tell you how, as a young girl, I found the tasks of completing my barn chores of mucking stalls and sweeping aisles totally thrilling. And to this day, please know that my favorite scent in the whole world is a combination of sawdust, hay, and tack leather. I can express to you the companionship horses have offered me in times of extreme loneliness. And still do. But perhaps it is the story of my first love which manifested to the next love, which led to all other aspects of my life that best fulfills the significance of my relationship with horses.
In 1997, Robert Redford announced that he was looking for a young girl to play a part in his next directorial venture, “The Horse Whisperer.” I was fourteen years old and living in Connecticut. Every day I rode after school and weekends were spent traveling throughout the Northeast, showjumping in competition. At the time, my sights were set on flying over fences at the Olympics. Acting? Never gave it much thought. But Mr. Redford was adamant that his actress be an unknown. The only prerequisite? She must have an affinity to horses.
Many girls auditioned for that movie, a wide net cast over equestrian centers across the country. I took the train with my mom to New York City, where auditions were being held, clutching a Christmas card photo of me perched atop the barn fence in jodhpurs and tall boots. Casting had asked for a photo. My black and white holiday image was as professional looking as our non-industry family could muster. Walking into the open casting call, I signed in and placed my 4 x 6 Christmas photo on a stack of glossy 8 x 10’s. Clearly, I was way out of my league here. What I really wanted to do next was turn around and walk straight out the door. However, I had taken the day off from school to be there, and my mom was adamant that I at least see this part of the process through. I shyly entered the audition room and repeated dialogue from script pages that were handed to me on the spot. I had never memorized dialogue before, much less performed for a stranger. The whole process was uncharted territory, but the scenes took place in a setting quite familiar: girls preparing and chatting, tacking their horses, giddy with the excitement of a morning ride. This world, I knew like the back of my leather gloved hand.
A few weeks later, I received a call from Los Angeles, "Congratulations, you are to play the part of Judith.” Apparently, Mr. Redford was pretty tickled by the humble simplicity of my 4 x 6 photo and ironically, the normalcy is what stood out to him. (A lesson I have since held closely: be true to yourself. What you find “standard" may be your most unique and defining quality). For the next few months, my mom and I relocated to Saratoga, New York to begin production on the film. Many times over, I have been asked, “what was it like to work with the legend, Robert Redford?” While I adore him, (his kindness, patience and gentle nature led me through my first very daunting experience of making a movie), I was perhaps most ecstatic that I was riding a black stallion … and not just any stallion — I was paired with the real life Black Beauty.
From the moment I stepped foot on set, I knew I had found my forever community. Though many perceive the world of filmmaking as full of glitz and glamour, the truth is — to create something from nothing … a screenplay, a frame, a character — these creative endeavors take an enormous amount of commitment and dedication. To remain successful in this industry, one must exhibit focus and self-control. It requires falling off a hell of a lot of times, dusting yourself off, and getting right back in the saddle. Fearful to fearless in a single moment. All of these qualities I knew all too well.
In March of 2020, the pandemic hit and the world shut down. I was 37 years old and terrified of the instability and the potential inability to create. For an artist, if we are not able to create, what is life? Artists are given a voice to express a relevant narrative, to push boundaries, and to make us feel. Historically, the best art is born from heartbreaking, challenging, or compromised times. My partner and I looked at each other and decided to pull on the boots and to pull off something new. Something outside the system. A vision innovative and exciting.
“Bring On The Dancing Horses” is a ten-part series made entirely independently. Michael and I both adore the Western genre, and yet we were interested in something more. A dash of noir, a whisper of philosophy, and while we’re at it, why not flip the traditional gender stereotype from a male lead in this landscape to a female? My character is simply known, throughout much of the series as, “The Woman.” Michael wrote and directed all ten episodes, while I star and produce. As a producer, I had a few requests, however, one I remember most fondly is this: “Will you please write me a scene on horseback?” Michael replied, “Hell, I’ll write you a whole episode.”
The truth is, we are a few of the firsts to put our stake in the sand of the Wild West, this new frontier of independent episodic filmmaking. Our series took a visionary, bright minds, and a barrel of guts to see beyond and to the edge of the horizon: what may not exist now will surely become the norm tomorrow. Out of all the projects I have been a part of throughout the 25 years I have worked in the film industry, I have never been so proud as I am to have created on this one.
Punctuality, discipline, dedication, performance, excellence, grit. One can only maintain a decades-long relationship with these types of demands because you love what you do. It’s not the money or the fame or the ego. It’s the heart. It’s because you choose to be great at something, to push the boundaries, and to seek to become better … simply because you love it.
What do horses mean to me? Everything.
Bring ‘em on.
*BRING ON THE DANCING HORSES is currently showing virtually at the Sundance Film Festival from January 20 - 30th. If you would like to support our project, please click on the link below and purchase an “Explorer Pass.” Enjoy the ride.
