Joel Potrykus doesn’t want to blow up Sean Baker’s phone.
“I asked him if he would moderate this Q&A. I made the mistake of putting a money incentive in there,” Potrykus confesses. “It immediately felt weird. I should have never mentioned money at all. He always replies… I’m just going to leave it.”
It’s not particularly surprising that Potrykus and the “Anora” director have been in communiqué over the years. Baker started making films a bit earlier, but both filmmakers grew in reputation as American indie favorites through the 2010’s, turning out breakouts like Baker’s fast-talking sex-work misadventure “Tangerine” and Potrykus’ couch potato slasher “Buzzard” — scrappy, funny features with bold characters, sidewinding storylines and a commitment to the grit of their street-level settings.
Potrykus is back in that saddle with his new, enigmatically titled film “Vulcanizadora.” Now expanding to Los Angeles at the Laemmle NoHo 7, the micro-budget feature is a welcome return for the director, who hasn’t made a film since the 2018 apocalypse-in-a-living-room comedy “Relaxer.” But the years — and the new responsibilities of fatherhood — haven’t softened his deadpan sensibility (though Potrykus’ child does appear in the film, playing the son to his own deadbeat dad character).
“Man, I’m not doing ‘Sharkboy and Lavagirl’ or whatever those movies are that Robert Rodriguez does. I don’t want to make a movie for my kid,” Potrykus says. “That’s a lot of work for something corny that I’m not going to feel proud of.”
Indeed, it’d be poorly advised to show “Vulcanizadora” to a grade-schooler — partially for its abrupt, shocking violence, but largely because of its casual, soul-crushing unease. The first half follows Potrykus’ co-protagonist and a frenemy (Joshua Burge, the director’s regular muse) marching into the woods, carrying odd metallic masks, a limited Gatorade supply and makeshift firecrackers. Hangout movies are usually branded as crowd-pleasers (and Potrykus has plenty of such jokes in store), but these men will bare their unflattering souls before their mysterious mission is complete. The film’s shell-shocked second act, adrift back in civilization, is somehow more harrowing — and completely aligned with Potrykus’ knack for spinning gallows humor without compromising a lingering, existential gloom.
“I’m in Michigan, so I never know what people think about these movies. The consensus seems to be that I’ve got a brand about slackers and arrested development and metal music. It feels super anti-punk-rock to continue making movies that fit that brand. But that’s just the movies I make. So whatever, man,” Potrykus says. “That’s one of the reasons I didn’t like having a manager. They’d literally be like, ‘Okay, we’re going to come up with your brand.’ I honestly didn’t know what the word even meant.”
I enjoyed the reveal that this is a sequel to “Buzzard,” with you reprising your role as Derek — and, in a way, saying goodbye to that character. Not many people are afforded the opportunity to play the same person over the years. Do you feel a kinship with him?
I do love Derek, because I understand Derek. I feel bad when people are laughing at Derek. It’s funny to see people laughing at a character and the character not knowing; it’s not like they’re getting bullied. But I love Derek more because he doesn’t know that everybody’s laughing at him. As much as I hate to admit it, that’s the character that I’m most like: a total motormouth dork. When we were filming I’m like, “Oh, we got to just smash branches against the trees. These guys would love to do it.” But that means Derek’s ideas are just my ideas. I can’t separate that. But you would be surprised at how creative my collaborators can get to keep Derek around in the future somehow. We’ll see if that happens.
Joel Potrykus and Joshua Burge in ‘Vulcanizadora’
Courtesy Everett Collection
You can really understand Derek through his pop culture references. “This is just like that ‘Indiana Jones’ movie.” Or when he’s singing “Voodoo” by Godsmack.
I don’t care if people think it or not, but I’m not a fan of Godsmack. But around a certain age, that was an unavoidable thing scanning through rock radio. That kind of shit music was everywhere. This is a song Derek would love. Or “The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift” has got to be Derek’s favorite movie. When we went out to shoot, I had a stack of index cards in my back pocket. I would just whip one out and be like, “We’re going to ramble about the pile of fish in the woods that my buddy once told me about.” For years, I’ve been living the Derek life. I just am Derek.
I’m surprised to hear you improvised like that. In interviews for your earlier films, you noted how much you rehearsed before shooting.
Josh and I used to rehearse a ton because we didn’t really know what we were doing. At this point, we’ve got a language between us that’s nonverbal. It’s the same with my DP. The goal has always been, “We’re going to be a band and jam.”
In a way, that almost spoils you: to have that bond with a small crew.
I don’t know how most people do it. Like, make movies. Especially with 100 or 200 people. What is that? You’re a foreman on a construction set at that point. How is there emotion or art in there? I don’t get it. A band goes into a studio having known each other for a long time, having practiced, having grown up together, having gone on the road. But a movie is like, “Oh, hey, I’m the assistant sound person today.” “Oh hi, I’m the set dec person.” Now we got to dinner and get to know each other? “Where are you from?” Oh my gosh, what artless bullshit is that? I guess it’s cool because that’s how people sustain themselves. But it’s never the reason that I wanted to do it. It was never, “This could be a great job.” It was just a band mentality. And if we make a buck, that’s cool.
Even so, “Vulcanizadora” does strike me as a slightly bigger production for you. It has a few more production banners and you were able to shoot on 16mm. But would you just as easily return to the barebones, digital model of “Buzzard” or “Ape” if that was what was afforded to you?
I don’t feel like they’ve grown in scale. “The Alchemist Cookbook” was the biggest jump for me, going from six people on set to like 26. That was tough. So we’ve scaled it back. We want to shoot on film now and have better microphones, but my ambitions are still pretty minimal. I feel a sense of responsibility to anybody who gives me money that I want to make it back. But at the same time, I’m very up front with them that it’s a very small chance that we’re going to make anything. I have to do this. So if you’re okay with me not making any compromises, then this could be awesome. It’s a risk, but these movies are still very low-budget.
I thought a lot about Gus Van Sant’s “Gerry” watching this. I don’t know if that was a particular point of inspiration for you.
Every few years I get on a heavy Van Sant kick. I rewatched “Gerry” and I had kind of forgotten all about it. It ended at a place where I thought it started to really get interesting. I was like, “I thought these guys were going out there on a mission. I should write that movie instead.” That’s what this movie is.
That’s not a bad way to get ideas for movies: watch other movies, then make the movie you thought you were watching.
It doesn’t happen to me very often. But that one, I was like, “Man, I could pull this off and it would be pretty badass.”
I want to briefly ask about your job teaching film and video production at Grand Valley State University. It’s corny, but have you learned anything from working with students?
I kind of don’t want them to see some of my movies; they’re things that I feel need trigger warnings. They were the first ones to push me: “Joel, your movies don’t have to just be about guys.” So when I make a short film with them every summer, it’s always about women. I also realized I had a hard time relating to my fellow professors and it’s the students that I can hang with. I was like, “Oh, I’m just immature.” That’s the only way that I know how to write my characters. There’s a reason there’s no romance in one of my movies, because that makes me feel embarrassed.
I’m trying to imagine a Joel Potrykus movie where a guy is a lawyer and goes to the gym at six in the morning.
I have tried to do that before. It feels so artificial and corny. It feels like a script. I just can’t do it, man.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
