Exploring surrealism and nostalgia with filmmaker Conner Bessman

Conner Bessman, a student filmmaker at the University of Georgia and drummer for the scramz band Hambear, aims to make films that “create reactions within people that are undiscernable [and] unexplainable through words.”

Originally from Augusta, Georgia, Bessman grew up playing percussion in middle and high school. Although he planned to pursue a biology degree, he enjoyed music as a creative outlet and felt that “deep down there was something pulling [him] toward the more creative, artistic side.” When he came to Athens, Bessman joined Hambear—a band reminiscent of second wave emo and screamo—and eventually directed their music video, “I won’t feel you again.”

You mentioned that Augusta didn’t really have that artistic community that you were looking for. How did that change when you came to Athens?

It was a huge culture shock, especially while I was still in biology. I was still with music. I was still hanging on to music [and] playing drums. The art and music scenes in Athens [were] just a huge leap forward—meeting a bunch of different people from a bunch of different cultures and viewpoints. It was a really big change for me, and I enjoyed it. It ultimately allowed me to grow, not only as an artist, but as a person, widening my range of the world around me. I think Athens was really what I needed. It’s a great thriving area for the arts. It was nice to be in that community because it allowed me to take that big leap to change my major to film.

In college, Bessman changed course from biology after watching David Lynch’s “Eraserhead.” Inspired by Lynch’s surrealism, Bessman began pursuing art that felt “transcendant,” spurring him to explore ideas surrounding the way audiences perceive and interact with cinema.

Where do you feel like surrealism plays in the current films you’ve released?

In our most recent [film], “Discordia,” I haven’t found it [to be] too much of an element as in the other ones. I definitely try to have it lingering in the background nonetheless. But in my other works, it’s definitely been a key component trying to invade characters and just this really weird setting— this uncomfortable setting that seems out of place, and then also using that weirdness to push the narrative forward. It’s kind of hard to put into words, and that’s the thing I really love about surrealism. It’s just this unidentifiable object. What I would like to say is up to the viewer and their interpretation of things.

Bessman’s “Writer’s Block,” follows a young woman who is struggling to write a paper and is reminded of a distant memory. Bessman pulled inspiration from Rene Magritte’s “The Lovers.”

Can you talk a little bit about the symbolism of the masked man in relation to procrastination and artistic experience?

I had imagined that figure—the masked man—as this moment or this concept or event in someone’s life that’s untouchable. It’s hard to reach for any sort of reason. It takes her a long time to get out there and finally conquer it and once she does, she forgets about it and then does the work.  

For those who reach for the more uncomfortable aspects or more pertinent aspects of XYZ—life, love, happiness, art—you have to go to some places you might not want to go, or might not want to encounter [or] interact with so you can find your way out. I related that to the young artist weighing the consequences of life experiences.

What kind of elements of nostalgia are you trying to bring to “A Wasted Projection: Of Today and Of Winter?”

I get a nostalgic feeling of summer, especially in the winter. A large part stemmed from the main character, Doran, [being] a very isolated college student. I feel like sometimes in our lives—it doesn’t just have to pertain to college but to anybody within a capitalistic system that’s working— to just come home and do anything they can and waste their life away. 

That was kind of the nostalgia I was pointing at, especially at that time in my life when I hadn’t really moved anywhere else from my hometown, Augusta, till I came to college. So there was this weird shift for me between the nostalgia of my hometown and my hometown friends, and then coming to a place I didn’t know completely. That’s what I was shooting for. But also just in general, you know, the free life, happy spirit, versus the life that’s bogged down by the systems that run this life.

Bessman received “Best Student Film,” at the Caravan International Film Festival for a “A Wasted Projection: Of Today and Of Winter.” The film was also an official selection for the Orlando International Film Festival, Crown Point International Film Festival and American Golden Picture International Film Festival. His most recent film “Discordia,” follows a student film set that slowly descends into madness at the hands of a tyrannical producer.

Do you feel like you return to a theme in your films?

There’s definitely a variety I go back to. I like the dynamics of power between characters. That’s pretty much all  “Discordia,”  is—the struggle for power in an arbitrary hierarchy that’s constructed to be there in the first place.

What inspired “Discordia,” and how does it play into your philosophical framework?

A big thing that inspired [the film] is the political climate and the way we’ve established hierarchies. Obviously, [the] government is a little different from a film set, but we put a lot of arbitrary hierarchies of power to let us be ruled by them and we don’t ever question their authenticity, who is running them—or sometimes we just can’t, [sometimes] there’s not the possibility of ever attesting it because they’ve just gone to so much power.

I was in L.A. this summer with UGA’s Grady College’s L.A. program and I heard from a lot of people about terrible people in industry [and] how they can be extremely exploitative. And I was like, “Wow. How can you take such a beautiful thing like the art of filmmaking, and just make it about yourself, make it about power, and make it about money?” So when I was writing “Discordia,” I was like “Okay, I will take this element and apply it to a film set.”

Could you talk a little bit about the set design for “Discordia?”

We had ultimately decided on covering all the walls in aluminum foil and using it as the student film set within the film to really create this insulated atmosphere that shrunk the room, metaphorically. When you’re covered with aluminum foil and have red lighting all around, it feels, visually, like an oven. And I feel like it created this tension-filled space for all the characters, even more within the film and also on our actual set. 

What gaps do you see in the entertainment industry that you hope to fill?

I just wish we could see weirder stuff. I wished we’d have more unique voices saying things through cinema. I hope I can definitely fit in that area.