Directors Statement

By Chris Molina

Learning to love where you’re from and appreciate all the things it’s given you is, as I’ve learned recently, a right of passage into adulthood. We shed the veneer of trying to act too cool and somehow begin to appreciate the things we learned to hate. In Miami, that would be the humid heat, the traffic, and the iguanas (which can be subbed out for roosters or peacocks). I learned that lesson at 19, when I flunked out of college, broke up with an ex, and moved back to my childhood home. Since then, I’ve yearned to create a film about that feeling of failure. I’ve tried multiple times over the last almost 10 years to write a script that perfectly encapsulates what I learned. I workshopped the concept in The Gotham Film and Media Career Development Program, and the New Orleans Film Festival South Pitch competition. When I was named one of Oolite Arts’s Cinematic Artists in Residence, which awarded me a $50,000 grant from Oolite Arts to create my first micro-budget feature, it was no question that I’d be making Fallen Fruit.

I find that oftentimes my personal style of filmmaking is also my way of processing these heavy emotions I can never understand otherwise. During the many years I played around with the idea of Fallen Fruit, I thought of it as a film I could mail back to my younger self so he could have an easier time transitioning into adulthood. But that ideology was flawed. 19-year-old Chris, just like 27-year-old Chris, is hard-headed and would not listen to any sort of advice given to him. I wouldn't want a film that just spewed lessons at me, I’d want a film that made me feel less alone. That's what Fallen Fruit became. Despite being based on my own experiences, this is not a film where I prop myself up as the hero. Alex, this alternate version of myself, is as majorly flawed and complicated as I am, and these flaws are the catalyst for change in this film, just as they were in my own life.

My auteur style of filmmaking is also one rooted in community. Miami, despite being a major metropolis, lacks a lot of resources for filmmakers. We’re forced to rely on our networks and communities to make films but I never imagined the community would rally around Fallen Fruit the way they have. The film went from something I wrote alone in my childhood bedroom (and eventually filmed there), to a community endeavor. It’s because of this community support, we were able to make magic with $50,000. From friends taking reduced rates to major in-kind donations for gear and locations, it was astonishing and heartwarming to see how many people connected with this story enough to sacrifice something to be a part of it.

Even when making the movie, there was the always present feeling of loneliness. The fear that this film was too personal, so personal that the audience would never relate. But every day, there was at least one person on set who would privately pull me aside to tell me how much of themselves they saw in the script. Whether it was the loud Hispanic family, the feeling of failing, or the love-hate relationship with the humidity, traffic, and iguanas. They would tell me that working on this film has helped them to appreciate the city they’ve grown up in, just as these experiences had done for me.