From left: Filmmaker Bretten Hannam with Blake Alec Miranda and Forrest Goodluck, who play estranged siblings in new movie Sk+te’kmujue’katik (At the Place of Ghosts).Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images
The memory of Mi’kma’ki land predates and, in many ways, resists the violence of colonial disruption. Celebrated two-spirit L’nu filmmaker Bretten Hannam’s third film, Sk+te’kmujue’katik (At the Place of Ghosts), is rooted in this truth, holding past, present and future in its story of two siblings seeking to confront and move through their shared traumas.
“I spent a lot of time in the forest, on the land – canoeing, walking or just sleeping under trees, thinking and reflecting on stories from the community,” shares writer-director Hannam, who was born and raised in Kespukwitk, Mi’kma’ki (Nova Scotia). “I spent a lot of time realizing how complicated and intricate the history of this land is – both precolonialism and post – and how that relationship has continued, changed and shaped people.”
Those reciprocal relations are the centre of At the Place of Ghosts, which follows estranged siblings Mise’l (Blake Alec Miranda) and Antle (Forrest Goodluck) as they reunite after the encroaching presence of a malevolent spirit. Elder sibling Mise’l, who is two-spirit and lives in the city, returns to their home community where younger brother Antle is raising his young daughter. Together, they journey through Sk+te’kmujue’katik, a forest whose memories archive the siblings’ ancestral history, past wounds and future selves, collapsing vast iterations of time within a single plane.
Through music, students get a lesson in Indigenous life and history
An atmospheric thriller that recognizes and witnesses the inextricability of ancestral spirits from colonial ghosts, Hannam’s film offers an expansive and distinct approach to genre filmmaking.
“It’s an incredibly unique film – as an actor, it’s a type of story that you don’t get to see too often,” says Goodluck, who had his screen debut in Alejandro González Iñárritu’s The Revenant (2015). “The texture of the Mi’kmaw culture drew me in, as well as the things I would be able to do as an actor – the time jumps, the exploration of my character’s masculinity.”
The film took Hannam more than 11 years to develop.Bretten Hannam/Supplied
“The opportunity to portray, one, an Indigenous character on screen, and two, a gender non-conforming character on screen … both of those identities are so rare to see represented individually, so to have them weaved together in this way – and in a way I think only Bretten really can execute – was such a treat,” says Miranda.
It’s a project that took Hannam more than 11 years to develop, a timeframe needed in order to explore the reality of the story’s lived histories alongside the ability and freedom to reimagine them. “It’s very easy to be ‘Oh, it’s all trauma and sadness and trauma and sadness,’” says Hannam, “And, my god, I’m so tired of that. It’s true, yes – that is certainly a part of it. But it’s not just about that. It’s about facing it, naming it, washing it away and putting it to rest.”
There’s a lot of talk of ‘language is dead’ and ‘culture is dead’ and ‘things are lost forever,’” Hannam continues, “which I think is certainly something to be aware of; but things aren’t lost and gone. We are still alive. We can rediscover these things; we can make new words, new traditions, new stories and songs. When it comes to colonialism, we hear elders speak of it as a disruption – as in, we’ve been around forever and disrupted for 500 years. We are able to steer things back on course. It’s only just the beginning.”
Bolstered by sumptuous cinematography from returning collaborator Guy Godfree (who worked as director of photography on Hannam’s 2021 film Wildhood), Sk+te’kmujue’katik also features an ethereal and haunting original score from lauded two-spirit composer and tenor Jeremy Dutcher. It’s a combination of deeply felt sonic and visual landscapes alongside a reverence for oral tradition, which grounds the viewer in the film’s more experiential and sensory mode.
“It’s kind of a difficult movie to pitch,” Hannam says, “just because it deals with so many layers – different time periods, spirits, memories and echoes of the past and the future at the same time. You understand by feeling. You understand by being patient – the film sort of demands that. There are things people might not understand, and I’m not afraid of that. I hope what comes across is not just a ‘not knowing,’ but a ‘wanting to know.’”
Cree composer Cris Derksen spotlights new works with major ensembles
It’s fitting then that Hannam’s filmmaking feels grounded in that same spirit of openness and curiosity, from its scripting, to its visual language and through to the performances given life onscreen.
“Bretten gives over a lot of trust to us, which is so precious as an actor,” shares Miranda who, alongside Goodluck, worked with L’nu producer John R. Sylliboy to learn Mi’kmaq for the film.
“I am not a fluent speaker. I’m a learner – I’ve been learning for many, many, many years. I probably have the communication skills of a toddler,” Hannam laughs, “But it’s something that I’m very passionate about. The language contains our worldview and contains teachings of its own. So speaking it is an act of resistance. And having as much language as possible in the movie was a big goal of mine. My dream one day is to make a film entirely in a Mi’kmaq; that would be amazing.”
Hannam’s centring of language in Sk+te’kmujue’katik points to a larger thread that runs throughout their filmmaking practice – the ability to not only centre and call forth histories of Indigenous survivance, but to continue but to continue in both the creation and renewal of its forms. “It’s never too late to begin this process of healing, of regrowing, of renewing, as difficult and as hard as it may be,” says the filmmaker, “Nothing is broken beyond repair. It may just have to become something new.”
Sk+te’kmujue’katik opens in select theatres May 8.