Little snapshots; how the roles of 'mother' and 'producer' collide
After having had a baby, Anna Rowe has been back in her job as EP at Smartypants for a year. Here, she reflects on the mantras that hold true across both of her roles, and reveals how executive producing prepared her for parenthood.
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I’ve been called the ‘soccer mom of production’ since I first joined this industry as a 22-year-old associate producer.
Ten years later, in 2022, I became an actual mother – not yet a soccer mom, although my toddler is very good with a soccer ball, not to brag.
In my line of work, in the documentary and commercial film space, my favourite part of the job is the challenge of distilling someone’s persona into a film. How can you get an audience to feel that they have come to intimately know someone in something that’s only an hour long? Or two minutes long? Maybe only 30-seconds long? (Six seconds is a new challenge, lately!)
When we talked about me writing an article comparing film production and motherhood, I didn’t really know where to start.
We start by finding little snapshots that give a glimpse into who they are. What motivates their choices? What are their daily habits? Their hopes? Their struggles? When we talked about me writing an article comparing film production and motherhood, I didn’t really know where to start. So, let’s start with some of those little snapshots – mine, this time.
Above: Anna Rowe on a production ahead of giving birth.
It’s December 2021. I’m in Costa Rica for a week-long production. Despite the fact that we are hiking to all of our filming locations, and I am enjoying some of the freshest fish and vegetables I’ve ever had in my life, all of the clothes I brought with me are becoming a little bit tight. The sandals on my feet are doing their best impression of a fishing net caught on a balloon. Seeing a sloth almost makes me cry. A week after returning home, I find out that I am pregnant.
It’s April 2022. I’m five months pregnant. We’re filming in an airport, about to go through TSA with 35 cast and crew, and my production team and I are calling out everyone’s names into groups of five to go through with our airport escorts. It’s loud. Half of them aren’t paying attention. I’m using my gentle voice. I look like a bowling ball in a down coat – the soccer mom analogy isn’t lost on anyone. Our stylist remarks, “You’re so ready for motherhood.” The baby kicks. I feel like I’m going to be sick again, but I love feeling her move. I hope our stylist is right.
I’m five months pregnant. We’re filming in an airport, about to go through TSA with 35 cast and crew.
It’s August 2022. I close my laptop after one final staff meeting with the team before maternity leave. My eyes are wet. Our apartment feels eerily quiet. Am I ready for this? The day has come - our baby girl is born. Before we leave the hospital, I rewrite our hospital packing list so that I can share it with others in the future. Did I remember to turn my out of office message on?
Above: The trailer for the Oscar-nominated short documentary Rowe produced.
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It’s January 2023. My five-month-old is, at last, in the final stages of getting over her first bad cold. No one has slept in some time. I’m sitting in bed holding her as I watch Oscar nominations being announced on my phone. Our short documentary, Stranger at the Gate, is the last of five to be announced. I yell. Sorry sleepyhead. I look online to find her an ‘Oscars outfit’. The first option I find is a onesie with Oscar the grouch on it. Perfect.
It’s February 2023. I’m on my first work trip after returning from maternity leave - a quick 18-hour trip to attend the premiere of our new, feature length branded documentary for Delta. Three years in the making, it’s thrilling to be in the same room as everyone whose faces I’ve been staring at during the past year of editing. I’m starting to feel like myself again. I gladly oblige anyone who wants to see photos of the baby.
I’m on my first work trip after returning from maternity leave - a quick 18-hour trip to attend the premiere of our new, feature length branded documentary for Delta.
It’s March 2023. I’m FaceTiming my husband and daughter in full glam, getting ready to head out to the Oscars. He sends me a photo of her watching the TV coverage. I’m excited, and nervous, for what is in store for us for the rest of the evening.
It’s August 2023. We’re working on a pitch deck for a new short documentary. It features victims of school shootings. The first photo in the deck is from a victim with the same name as my daughter. I go downstairs to give her a long, record-breaking hug. She’s wondering why I’m interrupting her 100th orbit around our kitchen island.
It’s December 2023. We’re finishing up projects in the usual ‘end of year’ organised chaos. Teeth are the latest source of unorganised chaos in our household. But the holidays are soon, and we’ll all have uninterrupted time together.
Above: Rowe's daughter in her Oscar outfit.
As with any film we make, it’s tough to put a nice bow at the end. We often ask ourselves (and our clients) - “what’s the takeaway? What do we want the audience to walk away having learned? Having felt?”
I was hoping to come up with some perfect words of wisdom to sum up being a working mom. If I were to wait for a feeling of perfection and worthiness to dole out ultimate wisdom, I’d never finish this. So, instead, I’ve gone ahead and laid out some takeaways that I’d like you to walk away with. Mantras that I feel are duly applicable in both the film industry and motherhood. They’re both my passion, and I feel that one fuels the other.
A change in plans doesn’t mean failure. Be prepared, but a little bit flexible. I often think of the time when I lived high up in an apartment building that would wiggle in strong winds. It wasn’t the best feeling, but they’re designed to do that. If it couldn’t wiggle, it’d fall over.
I was hoping to come up with some perfect words of wisdom to sum up being a working mom. Mantras that I feel are duly applicable in both the film industry and motherhood.
Yelling never helps. Sure, if someone is in an emergency (like getting hit by a car), you may need to raise your voice but, in most cases, getting louder doesn’t help anyone.
Asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It takes a lot of strength and self-awareness to realise when you need support, and how to ask for it. It’s a practice I encourage others to do often, and something I remind myself to do every day.
Boundaries are ok. And necessary.
Don’t just say “no”, explain the consequences, or offer a replacement. No one likes being told 'no' for no reason. Explain your reasoning, and be prepared to offer up an alternative. There may still be emotions, but that’s ok.
Snacks are the antidote to grumpiness. I think this is pretty self-explanatory. ‘Hanger’ is real. If snacks don't work, a nap may be in order.
Social media is a highlight reel. We should, of course, celebrate those highlights, while leaving space, acceptance and acknowledgment of the behind the scenes challenges.
It takes a village. Find your people. Even just one person can make all the difference.
Above: Rowe at the premiere of the Delta Air Lines documentary.
At the Oscars, I had the pleasure of sitting next to Bibi Bahrami, one of the main subjects of our documentary. Not only was it the first Oscars she’d attended (we had that in common), it was the first time she had ever watched the ceremony in any format.
While ultimately we did not win our category, her words after we heard the news have stuck with me: “Why is it that only the winner gets to give a speech? All the nominees should be celebrated. What an incredible achievement.”
Not every day will feel like a win. But I try to look for those tiny moments – those little snapshots – and find excuses for celebration.
It’s not every day that you’re going to celebrate an Oscar nomination. It’s not every day that your child takes their first steps. Not every day will feel like a win. But I try to look for those tiny moments – those little snapshots – and find excuses for celebration.
My daughter helps put a spoon in the dishwasher. I finally troubleshoot a pesky issue with my budgeting software. She mimics me as I scramble eggs. My colleague tells me they’re grateful for a minor task I helped them with.
I’m grateful for them too.
It’s 2 AM. My daughter is sitting on my lap. We’ve been up for a few hours, because sleep has apparently gone out of style. She’s watching me type the final words to this article. I pause for a moment to hug her. She grabs my fingers, and moves them towards the keyboard. I don’t love that you’re already familiar with how a laptop works, but what a clever girl nonetheless.
I’m debating the 89th version of the article ending I’ve written. In one swooping motion, she has deleted it. She looks at me, and then the computer, and then back at me. She giggles and claps her hands.
Fair. I didn’t like it either.
