In the early moments of Carey Williams’ “Emergency,” you might think that you’re in a one crazy night movie you’ve seen before. You know the kind: a long night of partying and various drunken confrontations between friends, concluded with a serene moral and emotional parting where everywhere grows up a little. Some of this happens in Williams’ tightly written, perceptive, and deeply poignant “Emergency”(read our Sundance review here). But Williams and his screenwriter K.D. Dávila prove quickly that their big-hearted take on this time-honored formula is a little different.
READ MORE: Sundance 2022 Preview: 20 Must-See Movies From The Festival
Seamlessly blending comedy with serious themes—a tricky tight-rope “Emergency” walks with confidence—the duo’s version is provocatively braided with the fear and anxiety in which black boys and men of this country constantly live. In that regard, when the film’s trio of college-aged friends—the brainy Kunle (Donald Elise Watkins), the fiery Sean (RJ Cyler) and their lovably spacey Latino roommate Carlos (Sebastian Chacon)—find a drunk white girl passed out in their living room, they realize they have no choice but halt the epic night of fun they had originally planned. Should they call the police? Would that threaten their lives? How about if they just take her to a hospital? Their night-long quest gets all the more complicated when the girl’s biased, overconcerned sister (Sabrina Carpenter) starts tailing them, making everything all the messier.
Returning to another virtual Sundance after last year’s “R#J,” an experimental film that puts a social-media powered spin on “Romeo and Juliet,” Williams talked to The Playlist about the themes and the making of “Emergency,” an expansion of his award-winning 2018 short with the same title.
Could you first talk about the process of expanding your short into a feature-length movie?
Sure. It started in Film Independent’s Project Involve program. That’s where I met K.D., the writer. She had this short that I thought was really well written. I was a little bit nervous to pitch on it because it’s a comedic take on something very serious. But that was also the thing that made it attractive. It was giving us a different take on something that we’d seen numerous times. My thing was about focusing on the friendship, that was the north star. So we made the short and went to Sundance with it, which we ended up winning. Making the feature part of it came when we were around SXSW shortly after. K.D. talks about this more like, making sure we had a reason to make a feature and not just repeating the short. I wanted to expand on the friendship between Sean and Kunle—where does that friendship go after that night; who they are as young men and what their relationship is. You know, let the audience build that care for them over the course of the film.
A slight diversion, but I can’t believe that you were in two back-to-back virtual Sundance film festivals with two features, “R#J” and this one.
It feels like a joke. [Laughs]. Of course, I’m kidding. But it’s so hard to get into Sundance with a feature and then it’s like, you do it twice in both years and you can’t go [in person]. But you know what, I’m thankful that we’re still in the festival, it’s still Sundance and we still have an opportunity to share the film. And we can get more eyes on it this way, so that’s great. But I want to be out in that snow with a film one year.
It’s a trade-off, right? Though with a comedy, hearing the audience react to jokes must be an experience, to see that the humor is working.
We did a test screening where we could see people’s faces. They videotaped and that was horrifying to watch people on zoom. You’re like looking to see if people are reacting. It’s a different space than being in a theater, 100%. But this is where we’re at, this is what we have now.
The collective consciousness around police shootings and racism is more heightened today compared to when you made the short in 2018. I am wondering if what’s been happening in the country in the last couple of years has reshaped your thinking while you were adapting the short for feature length.
For me, it definitely did. I can’t speak for K.D. I was in the midst of doing “R#J” when George Floyd and the protests happened. And it very deeply affected me. I really try hard to compartmentalize as much as possible, but I couldn’t. And I decided to stop fighting that. I let that come in and tried to put it into the work in some way. We were in the midst of so much turmoil and that informed a lot of my quest to dig into what it’s like for these young men. And the fear and anxiety that they live with, especially Sean. And also to dig into the masculinity that we as black men need to hold to survive, but also how detrimental that can be to our psyche. We had an opportunity to have this scene in the film where they have this catharsis and are able to emotionally dump to each other. That was the scene I wanted to shoot the most. It felt beautiful. I think we needed to see that. That scene speaks to a lot of what’s been happening in this country for a long time.
Since this is a take on the “one crazy night” narrative, I think you will hear people compare it to films like “Superbad.” I admit, I thought of it too, but perhaps more in contrast, as in: who is and isn’t allowed that youthful carefree night, going back to the anxiety and fear you just mentioned.
I almost watched “Superbad” before. [Laughs] I really enjoyed “Superbad” when I [first] watched it, but that’s an interesting angle, like, who’s afforded this carefree night. I love that perception. A sequence in the movie I think gives us that a little, The Legendary Tour sequence, before the reality hits. I’m glad we get to live in that for a little bit and see what they could have. Because the bitter reality of things is a little dark. I never really talked to K.D. too much about “Superbad” at all. But I can see where the comparison could be brought.
I love all three of your main cast members and the palpable chemistry they have throughout the entire movie. It’s hard to sell that closeness in a story that unfolds over the course of a single night. How did you help them prepare?
They just partied a lot in Atlanta. [Laughs]. We did a little bit of prep, but I think they just really are so good. It’s sickening. They went off on their own and did their thing. It’s crazy because we cast this over Zoom. We had to, with Covid. And then you meet them and you’re like, “Oh, you’re much taller than I thought you’d be.” Or whatever it is, you know? Then we had some rehearsals and talked about the characters. I made a mix-tape. I feel like every time I make a project, I make a mix-tape of music and give it to people. And we talked, ran through some scenes, but they brought so much to the characters.
What I loved about this group of actors is that they had so much input as far as like what they thought the characters’ motivations were, beyond what was on the script. And it was all money. It was all good stuff. I was super happy that they clicked, because you don’t know really. You wanna be in the room with them. And then when we got in the room, it was like, “Oh yeah, okay. I’m feeling it.” I tried to create this space of freedom on set where they could go off the script if they wanted to. They didn’t want to a lot, cause the script is well-written. But for me, it’s like, if you want to play that, [do it]. We can always get the lines of the script in another take.
What was it like working with Sabrina Carpenter? Her character is obviously a villain of sorts, but you aren’t exactly demonizing her, either. It’s interesting—she doesn’t think she is that person, but well, in the end, she is that person.
Sabrina’s dope. She came in so prepared. Our conversations before were about privilege. We talked about that and about unlearning, trying to unlearn the things that you just learned throughout your life because of who you are. And she understood in a way and she was clued into that. Also talked about what you were saying: we’re not immediately demonizing her. She is worried for her sister, but also not realizing that she caused all this because of her negligence.
And that said, I’m excited for the conversations people will be having about this movie.
I really hope it will provoke conversations and people will question why they feel certain ways about things and what does that say about themselves? If they feel like, “Oh, they could have just done this or done that.” I don’t think films need to answer everything. They really need to just provoke thought and conversation amongst people. And I think people need to do more debating about things, as opposed to, “You’re either with me or against me.” Talk about, “Why do you feel that way?” Hopefully, this film does that and shows young black men being emotional with your friends is okay. You don’t have to be hard all the time. You can tell your friend you love them.
As a silly parting thought–and this isn’t even a question– I couldn’t help but notice how many times the word OMICRON is said in the movie as the name of a campus house.
[LAUGHS] Isn’t that crazy? Like, WHAT? We were like ahead of this shit before it even happened. In [physical] Sundance, that would have been funny as hell. Oh my God.
Follow along with all our coverage of the 2022 Sundance Film Festival.