Klimovski came to filmmaking later than most — but you’d never know it from the quality of the work.
It wasn’t until a few years ago that he began writing and directing his own films. He admits the urge to do so was always latent inside him, though. “It’s kind of like when someone asks, ‘When did you know when you were queer?’ Kinda always have known, you know?”
Originally from Melbourne, Klimovski has been living and working in New York City for the last decade. His first short, “Love, Sick,” premiered in 2021 at the Oscar-qualifying HollyShorts film festival in LA, and his second, “ATTAGIRL!” premieres at Tribeca Film Festival this week. Outside of filmmaking, Klimovski directs music videos and other creative projects, although all carry his signature form of storytelling. “It doesn’t matter if it’s 30 seconds or 30 minutes, I treat it like it’s hitting an AMC,” he says.
“ATTAGIRL!” is brash in its filmmaking techniques, its casting and its plot. The film follows Siren, a high-glam bookie with a mean streak, as she shows up to collect her money by any means necessary. The film begins with spoken dialogue before switching to silent film text cards — a way of “flipping every expectation” in queer cinema, Klimovski says. It stars Leyna Bloom, Amanda Lepore, Violet Chachki, Uglyworldwide and Marcos Pedraza.
Ahead of the film’s premiere, PAPER caught up with Klimovski to discuss his creative ethos and queer rage.
Tell me a bit about yourself.
I’m originally from Melbourne, Australia, and I’ve been living in New York City for the last 10 years. I’ve been creative ever since I was a little kid. A little too much, actually. One of my earliest creative memories was writing this really inappropriate short story in the eighth grade about a husband who cheats on his wife with his new secretary. The twist was that it wasn’t an affair but he and his wife role-playing as per the advice of their sex therapist. This is me at like, 12.
Growing up, was film something you admired as a medium?
When I was a kid, going out and playing with other kids was my idea of hell. When I wanted to do something exciting, I would stay in and watch films. My dad introduced me to movies at a really young age. He was a cinephile himself — I didn’t get much to choose from. It was whatever we had on VHS. Goodfellas, The Godfather, early Tarantino.
At what point did you decide filmmaking was something you wanted to do with your life?
The realization didn’t come until later in life. I’m Eastern European, so creativity was a cute thing to have, but never something you could turn into a career. But then, all of a sudden, my writing led me to New York. The state of media was pumping money into video, so I learned all there was to know about production and then one day, it just hits me outta nowhere. I was like, Oh shit, I could be a filmmaker. I was 31, maybe 32. It’s hard to explain: it’s one of those things where it feels like the realization hits you out of nowhere, but when you reflect on your life, the answer’s been right in front of you the whole time. It’s kind of like when someone asks, “When did you know when you were queer?” Kinda always have known, you know?
What were some big influences on you, creatively?
I always say that I make the type of films Tarantino would make if he fucked dudes. [laughs] It’s a bit reductive, but it gets the point across. When I was younger and watching Scorsese-type films, I was always looking at the gaps where queer characters could exist. When I got a little older and I came across directors like John Waters and Gregg Arakki, who operated outside this Hollywood system and those queer stories, really blew my fuckin’ brains out. In a good way!
How would you describe your creative process and ethos?
My ethos is born from queer rage. It’s no secret that queer people are still being targeted especially our trans siblings. Targeted by politics, by government. There’s a large faction of the queer community who understandably don’t condone violence and want to approach everything peacefully. I love that for them, but that’s not for me. I want to rage and riot and really fuck up the status quo. The way I see it, queer people have always been rebellious by nature. Everything we’ve ever gotten has been through rebellion. Pushing back. Throwing a brick. Standing up for ourselves. Nothing’s been handed to us. My cinematic ethos is to really carry that spirit and rage forward. Films that promise: if you push us, we’ll push back.
What is it you hope viewers carry out of viewing one of your films?
Well, my new film “ATTAGIRL!” — when we played the proof of concept at Anthology Film Archives, I wasn’t expecting so many people to celebrate Siren, the main character’s journey. They were yelling in the theater and egging her on. I hope audiences leave feeling a bit more emboldened and powerful and ready to challenge systems. Ruffle some feathers. I don’t know, go kick someone’s ass? Not me inciting violence. I’m giving mad “devil on the shoulder” energy right now. This cold brew is making me nuts.
What is it about short film that interests you?
It’s cheaper and easier to make than a feature [laughs]. I’m building this cinematic universe where queer people aren’t defined by their sexuality or their gender expression which is a surprisingly complicated thing for people to visualize and so making short films are a great way to show, rather than tell. Queer people can be bookies and baddies. We can be antiheroes. We can be cunts. And still be lovable.
Do you find it challenging to fit all your ideas into something short?
Filmmaking is one of the hardest things you can do but it’s so worth it. I learned lots of lessons from my first short film. For example it’s very difficult to create a love story in 14 minutes that the audience gives a shit about. So you learn and you pivot and make sure the narrative feels self-contained in the runtime. You have to hit a beginning, middle and end. It’s all about practice.
How long have you been working on “ATTAGIRL!”?
“ATTAGIRL!” came together really quickly, actually. We had shot the proof of concept about a year before shooting the actual film. I wanted to play with the tangibility of celluloid film and learn how to use it better. After the proof of concept, we thought more ambitiously in terms of world-building. Once Leyna [Bloom] and Amanda [Lepore] came through, everyone started coming through. The crew really believed in the project down to their very core. We got some branded partners, Brujita, a Latinx skincare brand out of LA were the first to partner with us, and MAC Viva Glam, of course. We love us some MAC.
The cast is not made of what you might call traditional actors. What was it like working with them?
I can work with anyone [laughs]. Everyone in the film was in-credible. And I mean, I have a long history of directing non-actors and making people feel comfortable in front of the camera. It wasn’t about whether or not they could read lines in 20 different shades of emotion, it was more about whether they were able to embody these larger-than-life characters and breathe life into their backstories. And they did, in more ways than I could have hoped for..
Tell me about the decision to use silent dialogue in the film.
I wanted to flip every expectation with the film. Casting standards, what roles are offered to whom, and then when I started thinking like this, it made me wonder what else could be subverted? I wanted to go all the way back to silent film and build a new timeline of what queer film could look like. It’s a talkie that drops into silent film, so “ATTAGIRL!” subverts the chronology of film itself.
And why the decision to shoot on film?
There’s a tangibility that only celluloid can offer. Back in my day [laughs] oh god not that being the start of the sentence. Back in my day, when a film was really good, it’d be passed around on VHS tape. Everyone would watch it, and then you’d come together and talk about it. The goal was for “ATTAGIRL!” to feel like that beat-up, R-rated gem buried on the back wall at Blockbuster. Only one copy, always rented out, but once you get your hands on it, it rewires your brain. And shooting on Kodak film stock meant that we could make it feel just like that.
Do you want to do longer projects in the future?
One million percent yes There’s no real answer to the question of: “When do you stop making shorts and start making features?” It’s kinda this ambiguous, “when you’re ready” Yoda answer. So, just like everyone else in New York, I’m working on multiple things at once. I have some really exciting music video projects I’m directing this year, and I’m in pre-production for my next short. I’m developing my first feature, but that’s a slow burn. I come from working-class parents, and so I’m still practicing telling people $2 million isn’t a lot of money with a straight face. I’m getting better at it.
What advice would you have for people who, like yourself, maybe are interested in starting to make films a bit later in their lives?
Start and fuck up. You’re gonna fuck up so many times between now and the final product so start banking ‘em. Filmmaking is all about learning from your mistakes and trying not to repeat them. Life is short, so chase the thing that sets your soul on fire, you…idiot! Sorry, I was doing so well and kinda just panicked at the end there. Let’s just pretend I wrapped it up at the poetic part before this bloody coffee drove me off the road.
Photos courtesy of Klimovski