Tam (Lê Tú Oanh), a diligent wedding venue staffer, discovers her husband’s affair on live TV. Rather than confronting him, she enlists a powerful spell master to win back his love. Tam’s daughter, Ha (Nguyễn Nam Linh), pours her frustration into vivid fantasies of a brighter future abroad. Meanwhile, a mysterious house spirit, visible only to the women, lurks beneath their cracked, leaky ceiling.
This is the intriguing premise of Vietnamese writer-director Dương Diệu Linh’s debut feature, “Don’t Cry, Butterfly,” which was crowned with the Grand Prize at this year’s Venice International Film Critics’ Week (28 August–7 September). During our conversation at the Lido, the young filmmaker unpacked the making of her film and shared her thoughts on Vietnamese middle-aged men and women.
When and how did you start working on your film?
I started working on it during Locarno’s Open Doors lab in 2019. There, a director offered a residency prize to someone working on a new feature. Back then, I applied with a one-page treatment. I sent it to her, and we won the award. We attended a residency in Moulin d’Andé, in France. So, I thought: ‘I have to make this film now.’ That’s when I decided to start working on it. Then I met Tan Si En, my producer, at the Berlinale Talents in 2020. We signed the deal there and came up with the title.
How did the idea come about?
The idea came about 10 years ago. I made a short in 2013, which was also about a mother and daughter struggling with their problems and not communicating. In a way, I wanted to portray the cycle women of different generations go through. Everyone thinks they’re a bit better off than the previous generation, or maybe the new generation thinks they’re escaping the old ways. But in the end, they’re all part of the same cycle. The short didn’t have enough room for me to tell the full story, so I waited until the idea was ‘ripe’ before writing it down.
In your director’s notes, you say you’re fascinated with middle-aged women, especially the ‘naggy’ kind. Can you elaborate?
When I say ‘naggy, middle-aged woman,’ I bet everyone can think of someone in their life who is loud, unhappy, and always complaining. It’s a universal character. As a child, I was surrounded by women in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, and whenever they gathered, they always complained. Their favorite topic—if not the only one—was men and their behavior. It sparked my curiosity. I wondered: are these men really evil, or is there something else going on? Why do these women complain so much? Where I grew up, women are very vocal, but the men don’t really have a voice. They don’t express their feelings. I guess they repress their emotions, which creates a disconnection. As I grew older, I witnessed my parents’ relationship and other marriages. I realized that the reasons for their breakups were more complicated than just one person being evil and the other being a victim. It’s a multifaceted issue, with a lot to do with societal and gender expectations.
Is that why the lead’s husband is essentially silent?
Yes. I’ve seen too many films where women are portrayed as victims, and I don’t like that. It’s unfair to both sides. Women aren’t always as passive as they’re depicted, and men aren’t evil. Both sides have their daily struggles. In this film, I wanted to explore how the couple’s relationship breaks down. The husband doesn’t say much because the wife is always so quick. She moves around the house, does everything for him, asks him to change a battery, and then two minutes later says: “Let me do it.” He’s not even given a chance to prove his “manliness” in the family. This happens frequently, especially today, where women are expected to not only take care of the children and the house but also work. Men, on the other hand, are raised to think their only role is to make money and provide for the family. Now that women are doing the same, men don’t know how to share their emotional burdens, so they remain quiet. Meanwhile, women feel overwhelmed by all their duties.
And then there’s the house spirit… What inspired you to add that to the story?
I always knew I wanted to include a creature in the film, and I wanted to blend it seamlessly into their reality. The creature is inspired by Filipino mythology—it’s called TikTik. At night, it stands on someone’s ceiling, extends its tongue, and sucks the fetus out of a pregnant woman. I find this fascinating because the monster on top, and the woman below, mimic the act of penetration. The creature sucking out the fetus feels like it’s draining the woman’s energy. In the film, the House Spirit represents the darker side of the main character, the things she tries to sweep under the carpet. Eventually, this darkness consumes her, and she has to face the consequences.
What about your work with the cast and crew? Are you strict, or do you let them improvise?
I’m the kind of director who believes she doesn’t know everything. I tell my cast and crew that. They may expect me to have all the answers, and I do have answers regarding my creative vision. But when problems arise, I need their support, and things might change. I say: things will always change. I make sure my heads of department—including my DoP and my production designer—understand the film and my vision in depth, so if there’s an issue on set, they can act independently without asking me for every decision.
