Kate Cragg’s filmmaking begins with a refusal: a rejection of the “proper way” of doing things. Where conventional cinema prizes structure, coverage, and clarity, Cragg has built a practice grounded in instinct, movement, and emotional resonance. Her work resists easy categorization—hovering between film, performance, and visual art—and reflects a long-standing commitment to making outside the constraints of industry expectations.

In this conversation, Cragg traces the origins of that approach back to her early experiences in film school and the funding landscape that pushed her to either conform or step away.   Choosing the latter, she found her way back to filmmaking through improvisation and necessity, discovering a visual language shaped not by rules but by attention—simply filming what compelled her to look.  

With influences ranging from Maya Deren to Pedro Almodovar, Fassbinder to David Lynch and Antonioni,  and the avant garde dance practice of Pina Bausch and her links to Brecht, Cragg combines dreamlike visuals  and a harsh guttural realism to conjure up a representation of a dissonant world- strung out between possibility and limitation.

That ethos continues to define her work today. From her guerrilla-shot feature “Atomen” to her upcoming project “Dirty Talk,” Cragg embraces collaboration, spontaneity, and ambiguity, crafting films that privilege feeling over explanation. At the same time, her practice is deeply attuned to the social conditions that surround it: the erosion of creative spaces, the pressures of contemporary life, and the fragile, often contradictory ways people search for meaning.

What emerges is a portrait of an artist committed to process as well as product, questions over answers—a filmmaker who invites audiences not to be guided, but to engage, reflect, and remain with the discomfort her work so carefully sustains. Whilst not disregarding beauty, it is found in surprising places…. the hollowness of a failing romantic encounter,  the alienation of a drug addled trip to a supermarket….

Against the “Proper Way”

Cragg’s approach to filmmaking was forged early in opposition to industry expectations. As a young filmmaker, she quickly realized that her style—fluid, instinctive, and resistant to rigid structure—did not align with what funding bodies typically supported.

“I had a choice,” she explains. “Radically change my approach or stick with what I was doing.”

She tried adapting, briefly, but found the constraints suffocating. The message she received was blunt: no matter her talent, films made in her style would not secure funding or traditional backing. That pressure, combined with a film school culture she describes as dominated by a technically focused “boys’ club,” pushed her away from filmmaking for a time and into theater and performance.

The turning point came almost by accident.

While studying at St. Martin’s School of Art, Cragg found herself on set without a cinematographer. Faced with the choice of canceling or improvising, she picked up the camera herself.

“I just shot what I wanted to look at,” she recalls.

Freed from the expectation of “coverage”—wide shots, mediums, close-ups—she followed instinct instead. The result was a style defined by long takes, drifting movement, and an almost dreamlike attention to detail. That film not only marked the beginning of her visual language but also earned her entry into the program.

“It was the first time I hadn’t felt constrained by doing it the ‘proper’ way.”

Teaching Instinct in a Digital Age

Cragg carried that lesson into her teaching. She encourages students to abandon preconceived shot structures and instead focus on what draws their eye.

“Just look at what you want to look at,” she says. “If you want to go right into someone’s eye or focus on their hands, do that…. Value your instinct- it has its own logic”.

With tools like smartphones now widely available, she sees an opportunity for emerging filmmakers to discover their own visual instincts before being absorbed into industry conventions.

For Cragg, that freedom is essential. It’s also why she has largely positioned herself outside the traditional film industry.

“I realized I would never be able to work in the straight industry,” she says. “It kills my process.”

Making “Atomen”: A Film Built on Trust and Improvisation

Cragg’s feature film “Atomen” exemplifies her unconventional approach. Made without formal backing, the project began with a leap of faith: she traveled to Berlin, posted notices in rehearsal spaces, and assembled a group of actors willing to experiment.

She introduced them to her process through music and movement, asking them to dance and inhabit a heightened, almost surreal emotional space. Once they saw the results on film, they committed fully.

The production itself was equally unorthodox. Shot guerrilla-style across Berlin, often without permits, the film was created in fragments—returning to locations, capturing moments as they arose.

Despite its minimal resources, the film’s strength lies in its performances and visual cohesion. Its structure, inspired by circular storytelling, interweaves multiple characters and relationships, revealing how lives intersect in unexpected ways.

Cragg credits this approach to her interest in exploring broader social anxieties through intimate, personal encounters.

Art, Society, and the Loss of Creative Spaces

A recurring theme in Cragg’s work—and in her reflections—is the erosion of accessible creative spaces.

She points to Berlin as a city that once thrived on alternative art communities but is now losing them to commercialization. The same trend, she notes, affects arts education, where funding increasingly favors subjects deemed more “practical.”

“There’s an illusion that everything is accessible,” she says. “But actually trying to make something happen is nearly impossible. With commercial pressures, issues of access, gender, race, class, the systems place responsibility for” Success” on the individual,  whilst in fact it is increasingly hard for many to find any way in”. 

This tension—between perceived opportunity and lived reality—feeds directly into her films. Through interconnected characters, she explores themes of alienation, economic pressure, and the search for meaning in contemporary society.

A Collaborative Language

Cragg’s long-standing collaboration with her partner, cinematographer Daniel Landin,  who she met at art school, plays a crucial role in her process. Their familiarity allows them to work quickly and intuitively, often completing shoots in as little as ten days.  

Yet their partnership is not without a certain creative friction, as each bring strong ideas into the arena.

“I like things to hold onto a certain visual roughness,” she admits, while he brings a visual discipline and stunning visual sense that can sometimes need some compromise on both sides. That tension, she suggests, is productive—it preserves the “ragged edge” she values, whilst challenging her, and their shared visual language and references allow each to be ambitious and take chances, whilst moving fast- luckily both enjoy responding in the moment to unexpected opportunities . 

She counts herself lucky to work with fantastic artists in their own fields-  her new film “Dirty Talk” being edited by William Chang, Wong Kar Wai’s longtime artistic collaborator, in his first collaboration with a British director.  “I was completely amazed and grateful that he would take on a basically unfunded film, simply because he loved the  poetry of the rushes and it excited him- I am constantly surprised that there are still so many people in this industry who are not simply driven by commercial interests alone, that the love of this medium and the different ways it can explore is not destroyed by what we know is, at times,  a pretty hard industry”.      Similarly, the support of her  talented sound team, led by Nina Hartstone and Louise Burton can transform the quality of the entire film experience beyond belief…   The post production support she receives from Time Based Arts, a London company that maintains its desire to keep art in the mix of their work, gives a freedom to Cragg  she values enormously. “I am so dependent on the goodwill of my many talented collaborators, and I don’t underestimate the fact that their crucial contributions to my work makes these films possible.”

Music is another essential component. Rather than being added in post-production, it is developed alongside the film, shaping performances, used in the lengthy rehearsal period,  and setting pacing from the outset.  “I see music as a character in the film- sometimes a counterpoint, often a commentator,  allowing for a complexity of ideas to be presented in a way that goes directly to the heart” .

Melodrama and the Power of Suggestion

Cragg is particularly interested in reclaiming melodrama as a legitimate artistic form. For her, it is not about exaggeration or sentimentality but about the fusion of music and performance to create emotional resonance.

She resists the trend toward overly explicit storytelling, arguing that audiences are more perceptive than they are often given credit for.

“I hate the assumption that people can’t remember or think,” she says. “You don’t need to explain everything.”

Instead, her films aim to operate on a more subconscious level—pulling and pushing the viewer, leaving impressions that linger long after the credits roll.

“Dirty Talk”: A Portrait of Alienation

Her upcoming project, “Dirty Talk,” continues this exploration. Set in London, the film follows Elsa, a young woman grappling with depression and disillusionment.

The film opens with a striking juxtaposition: Elsa listens to a generic meditation tape while passing through one of London’s wealthiest areas—lined with homeless tents.

“It’s not about mocking the meditation,” Cragg explains. “She’s genuinely trying to make herself feel better. But she can’t.- just as we can’t paint over catastrophic events and the state the world is in with a potfull of feelgood….

Like Atomen, the film uses multiple characters from different cultural backgrounds to reflect the complexity of urban life. Cragg describes it as an “existential film noir,” blending psychological introspection with a fragmented narrative.

At its core, “Dirty Talk” examines how people construct stories about their lives—especially in moments of crisis—and how those narratives can both sustain and distort reality.

The Illusion of Possibility

Cragg is particularly attuned to the pressures facing younger generations. She describes a world saturated with images of success and self-optimization, yet increasingly difficult to navigate in practical terms.

Her central metaphor for “Dirty Talk” is stark: children holding helium balloons, only to have them suddenly cut loose.

“They’re left holding the limp strings,” she says. “That’s what it feels like.”

This sense of disorientation—of promise without fulfillment—runs through her work, alongside a persistent question: how do we find meaning in a world that  feels increasingly destructive and incoherent?

Human Complexity and Moral Ambiguity

One of Cragg’s defining concerns is the refusal to reduce characters to simple moral categories. Her films often depict people making troubling choices, not to excuse them, but to understand the conditions that shape them.

“I find it hard to believe anyone is simply evil,” she says. “There’s always something behind it—fear, damage, something unresolved.   That’s not to suggest that evil doesn’t happen – clearly it does, but how do we understand it, how do we challenge it- how is it to be addressed?”

This perspective informs both her storytelling and her broader worldview. Rather than offering neat resolutions , her films leave space for ambiguity, asking audiences to sit with discomfort and uncertainty.

A Cinema That Asks, Not Answers

Ultimately, Cragg sees her work as an invitation rather than a directive.

“I want people to question their assumptions,” she says, particularly around gender and the expectations placed on women. Her female characters resist easy categorization—they can be vulnerable, unsettling, contradictory, even confrontational- she strongly resists the idea that women must always be role models, be “good”- her women lie , and sometimes do bad things- why wouldnt they?

Across her films, each character clings to a kind of “false god”—art, money, relationships, ideology—hoping it will provide stability or salvation. But those illusions inevitably falter.

What remains is something more fragile but also more honest: the recognition that others share the same uncertainties.

“You’re not alone in feeling it,” Cragg says. “That’s the first step.”

She resists the urge to provide comfort through resolution. Instead, she advocates for staying with discomfort long enough to confront it meaningfully.

“If you wrap it up too quickly,” she says, “you don’t solve anything.”

The Cost of Independence

Despite her commitment to independent filmmaking, and her sense that something is being lost as truly independent work is being sidelined by the interests of commercial interests above all else- witness the change in film festivals, where very few films without “stars” will find a place-  Cragg is candid about its challenges. Chief among them is the inability to adequately compensate collaborators.

“I don’t need a huge budget,” she says. “I just need enough to pay people properly.”

Still, she continues—driven by a belief in cinema as a space for exploration rather than conformity.

In a film landscape increasingly dominated by commercial imperatives, Cragg’s work stands as a reminder that another kind of filmmaking is still possible: one that embraces uncertainty, trusts the audience, and dares to look—closely, instinctively, and without apology.