Premiering in the Big Screen Competition at IFFR (29 January–8 February), “Butterfly” marks Itonje Søimer Guttormsen’s return to feature filmmaking five years after “Gritt.” Set in Gran Canaria, the film follows estranged sisters Lily (Renate Reinsve) and Diana (Helene Bjørneby) as they reunite after their mother’s death and inherit an unfinished resort-cum-esoteric retreat connected to her younger lover, Chato (Numan Acar).
Blending professionals with non-actors and drawing on real people and places, “Butterfly” unfolds as an intimate family drama that emerged from a long and unconventional development process. We sat down with the Norwegian helmer to discuss the collaborative choices that shaped its final form.
I know it’s been a very long-gestating process, but when did you start working on “Butterfly,” and why did you feel the need to tell this story now?
Itonje Søimer Guttormsen: I started in 2008, so it’s been a very long process. The sisters, the mother, Chato and the Gran Canaria setting all came to me quite early. It began with a mix of curiosity and frustration about siblinghood. Being a sibling is such a defining relationship – maybe the one that defines you the most.
But I realised quite early that “Butterfly” was too complicated to be a debut feature. So I moved on to another project, “Gritt,” which eventually became my debut.
For many years, the two projects existed in parallel, going back and forth. What stopped me with “Butterfly” was mainly funding – it was too big. With “Gritt,” I could use my own surroundings, my own locations and people, and make it on a very low budget. Through that process, I discovered how I want to work: integrating with people and places. That really defined my filmmaking.
After finishing “Gritt,” I asked myself whether “Butterfly” was still relevant. It was already 2021. But during COVID, it felt more present than ever. The healing and community aspects of the film felt necessary for our time.
I decided I would only do it if I threw away the script and started over, incorporating real people. So I began going to Gran Canaria for three years, finding people and places and letting them inspire the film.
And you somehow incorporate both what the island looks like as a tourist destination and something else entirely – a more spiritual, if not esoteric dimension, rooted in ancient times…
Exactly. That was also my own discovery. When I first went there in 2012, I mostly stayed in the south, exploring the hotels, the tourist machine and the Norwegian society living and vacationing there, which is quite fascinating. But I didn’t really know the richness of the island.
When I came back in 2021 and started digging deeper, I discovered the people living in the mountains, and also Las Palmas as a vibrant city. The people I met taught me about the island and really broadened the film.
Let’s talk about casting. We have the two strong female leads, of course, but also a key supporting presence. What qualities were you looking for in your actors?
Starting with the sisters, the whole film began with these very specific personalities. Lily is tough, very hard, very head-driven. It’s an extreme character in some ways. So I had a very long casting process – about 55 people, actors and models.
Renate Reinsve was suggested by my producer. I was hesitant at first because I’d seen her in theatre and thought she was brilliant, and also in “The Worst Person in the World,” but she felt too soft and charming. I wasn’t sure she was right for Lily.
But she read the script and connected instantly with the character. We connected too. I still took her through three rounds of rehearsals because I was hesitant – also because I wasn’t sure I wanted to work with someone so famous. I was worried it might disturb the balance.
She wasn’t as famous then – we cast her in 2022 – but she was still very visible.
You feared she could overshadow the others.
Exactly. Helene Bjørneby, on the other hand, I had worked with in film school on my graduation film. She hadn’t done much afterwards and was mostly working as a theatre teacher. We reconnected when she came to a “Gritt” screening, and I immediately felt she should try for Diana, even though I had written the role for someone else.
When Renate and Helene met, it was immediately clear. They were sisters – half-sisters. That’s when I made the final decision.
Did they contribute creatively to shaping their characters? Because they’re very memorable – especially the way Renate dresses.
Yes, it was always part of the idea that Lily would dress very wildly. I had an amazing costume designer and makeup team – very intuitive and brave. Renate was also incredibly brave.
We knew we had to transform her look completely. She’s very healthy-looking and beautiful, but Lily is someone who hasn’t taken care of herself. She’s been alone since she was 14, living a very hard life. Her look is almost a form of self-punishment, and that reflects her pain.
Renate was completely on board and had fun with it. They added a lot – in tone, rhythm and flavour. I don’t stick rigidly to the script, but if you read it now, it’s still quite close to the finished film.
Helene also brought something very different from what I originally imagined. Without them, there wouldn’t have been a film.
And what about the chemistry with Chato?
We cast him very late. At first, I was looking in England, but I realised Chato is definitely not British – quite the opposite.
Eventually, I found this amazing Kurdish actor living in Berlin, Numan Acar. He comes from an Alevi family and has this mysticism, this beautiful worldview, and he’s also a great actor.
I cast him on Zoom, which I almost never do, but he hypnotised me through the screen. I took a real chance on him. When he arrived, he immediately embodied the character – going into the mountains, connecting with people and blending in completely.
So there’s a sense that some of what we see is real.
Absolutely. That goes for everyone. Numan connected naturally with the people there and had such a calming effect on the sisters. You can’t fake that energy.
Visually, the film is split into chapters and uses multiple formats – handheld, drones, 16mm. How did you approach that?
The idea was always to move from a more fixed, imprisoned camera language in the south to something freer as the sisters break away. I did something similar in Gritt.
I see different formats as different gazes. In “Gritt,” I called it Lilith’s gaze. Here, it’s more the gaze of Kairos – another kind of time, not chronological. That’s why the dream scenes and the ritual at the end are shot on 16mm: they touch on a deeper reality.
The handheld camera represents Lily’s gaze – how she judges and navigates the world. The drones play with the tourist perspective, or a god-like view.
David Raedeker, the cinematographer, was completely on board. We really played with it.
Are the supporting characters a mix of professional actors and non-actors? And, how did you stage the ritual scene?
I spent three years going back and forth to Gran Canaria, meeting people, building trust, living in their environments and writing them into the script. They’re real people.
The work is about making them trust themselves and trust me. Then you put actors into that environment, and both sides benefit.
Of course, some things are invented – like the curse or the ashes in the milk – but many rituals are based on what these people already do. The woman living in the woods really makes rituals, so she agreed it was plausible.
The ritual scene itself is like a collage, a patchwork of beliefs and customs. The capes are made by a woman I met exactly the way Lily meets her. The drummers are a real band. The butterfly sculpture was created by a Norwegian visual artist.
I directed the ritual, but we crafted it on the spot with real people. That’s what makes it alive.
I usually close with two questions. First: are there women in film who inspired your work?
Chantal Akerman, above all.
Second, how has it been being a woman filmmaker in Norway?
Very hard in the beginning. That’s why I created a ritual performance group called the Lilithists, inspired by Lilith. I even wrote my master’s degree on Lilithistic film production.
The industry felt extremely rigid, conventional and not human-friendly when I started 25 years ago. I applied again and again, and people would tell me, “This isn’t a film, it’s a diagnosis.”
After MeToo, things changed a lot. It’s much easier now, but until 2017 it was very hard – not only because of harassment, but because the female gaze and female experience were dismissed as irrelevant.
Last curiosity: do we ever really know who Chato really is?
Not really – and I love that mystery. He has no clear past. It’s vague. And Numan really contributed to that mysticism. He’s like that in life too.
