Charles Burnett on Reviving The Annihilation of Fish and a Humanistic Perspective on Mental Illness.

      Essentially regarded as a lost film, legendary director Charles Burnett’s 1999 feature The Annihilation of Fish primarily circulated within the festival circuit (and through bootlegs) for 25 years until a recent miraculous restoration by the UCLA Film & Television Archive and The Film Foundation. Even though the film starred recognizable actors like James Earl Jones and Lynn Redgrave, a single negative review from an influential critic—who appeared to be unduly apprehensive about the film’s tonal risks—was sufficient to undermine its commercial potential for distributors.

      Described as a romantic comedy centered on mental illness, the film possesses an unusual quality that could alienate some viewers. However, it is perplexing, years later, that a piece so earnestly expressive would be denied the audience it merited. Burnett, straightforward as ever, joined us via Zoom to discuss the film’s newfound journey as well as the current landscape of cinema and, candidly, American society.

      The Film Stage: From your recollection, what transpired with the film after its premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival in 1999? Do you remember engaging with potential distributors who were hesitant? Was it just the one negative review from Variety that effectively doomed it?

      Charles Burnett: That was our first insight after the Toronto screening. We received a warm reception there. Subsequently, we encountered the negative review, and then everything started to crumble. Interestingly, we showcased the film on September 11, 2001, near San Diego. Surprisingly, two theaters were filled, and we asked viewers why they showed up despite the events in New York. They responded, "We had to be with somebody." They expressed a longing for human connection amid the tragedy. We received positive feedback from that audience, yet the subsequent review stifled everything. That marked the start and end of the distribution process—everything just fell apart.

      Did you sense there was something specific that the Variety review, or others, failed to grasp about the film?

      There was one critic, Todd McCarthy, who penned an exceptionally harsh review, the only one I recall being so overwhelmingly negative. We had a positive response from audiences in Toronto, which made it even more surprising. It may relate to Pierre Rissient, a friend of Todd's. Pierre and I had disagreements during our relationship, especially since I cast someone he didn’t support in The Glass Shield. So, I don’t really know.

      This film marked the end of a distinct phase in your career during the 1990s, which featured quite a range of styles. You created The Glass Shield, a genre piece; Nightjohn, a historical drama for the Disney Channel; The Final Insult, which is almost experimental; and The Annihilation of Fish, a comedy. At that time, were you deliberately exploring different styles with each project, or did you view them all as interconnected?

      You wanted to explore diverse avenues. Opportunities arose to pursue different films—not necessarily consecutively—yet distinct projects. So, you embrace the chances. You never know how they'll turn out, which is what drove me; I just wanted to keep creating.

      The Final Insult is particularly remarkable. I often tell people it’s one of the great hidden treasures on Criterion Channel. It’s notably different from your other 90s films. Were you feeling a desire for cinematic experimentation at that stage?

      Not really. What happened was there was a festival in Germany, Documentary X, that provided filmmakers with new Sony cameras to experiment with. I was interested in the homeless population in Los Angeles, so I filmed some homeless individuals in my neighborhood and aimed to tell their stories. It wasn’t specifically planned; rather, it was an opportunity to play with the new Sony camera, which resulted in The Final Insult. It wasn't intended for conventional release; it was merely to showcase the camera's capabilities.

      With The Annihilation of Fish and Nightjohn, you were directing scripts written by others for the first time. Did you have any initial reservations, or was your connection to the material strong enough to alleviate any concerns?

      I believe the connection was strong. Nightjohn was a Disney project, which differentiated it from my other works because it sought realism without sugarcoating the subject of slavery; they aimed to capture its essence.

      For The Annihilation of Fish, writer Anthony C. Winkler, who has since passed, adapted his own novel. Was he collaborative during the adaptation, or did you have a lot of creative freedom when making the film?

      He was very open and gave us a lot of freedom. In fact, he was exceptionally so, entrusting me and producer Paul Heller to create a compelling version of his novel.

      This film addresses mental illness, an issue that seems to challenge America particularly. The Reagan administration's cuts to mental health services in the early '80s led to a crisis. Do you think there's a fundamental inclination to overlook mental illness? Or, within the film, were you