Erin Brown Thomas is a force. I met her at Indy Shorts, where she screened her powerful short film “[Subtext].” You go into the film thinking it’s one thing, and then you’re left with your jaw dropping to the floor. I was so excited to speak with Erin about her upcoming project, “little white lies.” Production is finished, but they are raising $20K for post-production, and to support Erin, as she self-financed most of the production. Like “I May Destroy You,” this film seems just as relevant and important to see onscreen in our post-#MeToo era. Help Erin and her team reach their fundraising goal. Their Seed&Spark fundraiser has two more days left, while their Film Independent fundraiser is ongoing.
About
Set against the backdrop of an LA house party, “little white lies” follows a young dreamer who was recently manipulated into an unwanted sexual encounter with her crush. To cope with the abuse, she seeks to define and solidify their relationship.
“little white lies” draws a connection between an unwanted sexual encounter and an exploitative economy in which the people who dream the biggest are the most vulnerable to abuse.
The Inspiration: Words by Erin Brown Thomas
When I was 22 years old, I skipped class and went to the theater alone to see a film that would forever change my life — The Devil Wears Prada. The film found its legs at the box office, was praised by A.O. Scott, and earned Meryl Streep an Oscar Nom. I’d like to think it also defined a generation.
On paper, the lesson of The Devil Wears Prada was simple. Miranda Priestly is the devil. Full stop. Everything she says or does is in her self-interest. She cannot be trusted. Her priorities are in the wrong place. We probably shouldn’t work for her. We certainly should never become her.
But Meryl was soooooooo good in this movie. She made you love her. And she made you love Andy. And just as the film fell short in its critique of the arbitrariness of beauty standards, it also failed to convince me that “the dream” [literally insert whatever dream] wasn’t worth sacrificing my self-respect for. In fact, it did the opposite.
As a Millennial coming of age in 2006, I missed the intended point of this movie entirely. This film was my introduction to hustle culture. It normalized 80-hour work weeks. It glorified the idea of enduring a toxic boss. And it convinced me to give blunt-cut bangs a try.
Here we are 18 years later and I’m still carrying all three of these consequences around.
While this abuse is universal to the millennial experience, mine was contextualized in the entertainment industry. Whether I was enduring a 23-hour work day (and asking my mom who flew out to visit me for Easter to sleep on the office couch) or getting told by my [male] boss that I “better not get pregnant” because it would have been a “waste of” the time [probably mere hours] he spent “investing in me” — I quickly learned that I was “lucky to have a career at all” in an industry that everyone wanted to break into.
Over the years, my friends and I have wrestled with the excruciating choice of whether to abandon our dreams or possibly die trying. We continue pushing forward based on the idea that someday if we “make it”, everything we went through will have been worth it. I’m not just talking about sweat equity or paying dues — I’m talking about actual abuse. Predatory and exploitive labor and hiring practices. Corporate monopolies. Staggering income inequalities.
The older I get, the more I feel that the deck is stacked against those of us who dream. Those of us who care. Those of us who pursue unapologetically.
And so I ask myself…
Is it possible to chase what you want in this life without getting f*cked in the process?
This question is the inspiration for “little white lies.”
