Taking the Bet: Columbia Student Ceci Sewell’s Leap Into Filmmaking

Cecily “Ceci” Sewell has spent her life in filmmaking. Her mother worked as an assistant director on various productions, so Ceci was exposed to the industry from an early age. Moving from Chicago to Los Angeles and now finishing up her bachelor’s degree at Columbia University in New York, Ceci has a lifetime of experience in the cinematic arts that distinguishes her from her peers.
At Columbia, Cecily has written and directed four short films and written two feature-length screenplays. Her dedication has earned her recognition through the Guy Gallo Award for Best Undergraduate Screenwriting in 2023 and the Louis Sudler Award for Outstanding Artistic Achievement in 2024. Now a Film Independent and HieronyVision 10×10 Fellow, she is working to develop her first independent feature film through their incubator program while applying to graduate school.
Despite these outstanding accomplishments, Ceci’s biggest point of pride is in her humble life and knowing her work is true to herself and her experiences. She is a mother and worked blue-collar for many years before taking a chance on an Ivy League education, where she can now fulfill that filmmaking dream. To get a better sense of her life and artistic aspirations, Ceci laid it all out in this interview:
You returned to higher education to pursue filmmaking — what was the turning point that made you decide to take that leap?
It was a few things. I’ve always been a filmmaker; I first started in the industry when I was sixteen/seventeen. My mom was an AD on sets, so that’s what had us move from Chicago to California. She worked on 90210 and a few different movies, so I was exposed to sets growing up, and got the “filmmaking bug” pretty early. Then, in my teenage years, I knew I wanted to write, and I wrote my first script at seventeen – it was terrible, of course. Then, the 2008 writers’ strike hit, and that took me out for a while. I worked 9-5 for a long time, but I kept striving for filmmaking – I worked as a producer for documentaries, including Dalai Lama’s Compassion in Action. Then, the most significant change was that I had a daughter, and I decided to return to school. It’s time to take a bet on myself.
What does it mean to you to challenge “traditional narratives”? Could you give an example from one of your films?
I have a film I’m working on that I plan to shoot in the next few months. It’s a personal story centered around my relationship with my grandfather. He was of the Baháʼí religion. Because of the religious customs, women don’t have access to see or touch the male body. Their bodies are wrapped in linen and meant only for male descendants. My short is about a young woman who breaks the rules and goes to see her grandfather anyway after his passing, and must decide whether she will follow his wishes or get her personal catharsis. For me, this short film is meant to illustrate the complexity of our needs versus those of others, as well as the specific patriarchal standards found in certain religions. What we choose to understand and how we understand that is what I’m exploring.
In your view, what responsibilities do filmmakers have when representing communities that have historically been misrepresented or excluded from the screen?
Responsibility is a big word. You have the right to express what you want, but as a filmmaker, I think the issue is that we don’t have the right to tell everyone’s story. Sometimes, that can affect how we view people based on whether we’re telling a story from our marginalized point of view, or the mainstream perspective of that “other.” If we’re honest with ourselves about our individual views, we would have taken responsibility already, and this conversation wouldn’t have gone as far as it has. As a black woman, there are numerous reflections of blackness and femininity, so that intersectionality will manifest differently depending on the moment and scenario. Sometimes, experiences may seem stereotypical, and at other times, they may not. They’re all important to show, but it’s what we identify with that makes it important.
As both a writer and director, how do you balance the emotional truth of your writing with the technical realities of production?
I’m learning that right now. In the past, I wrote big-budget things that challenged me in my imagination, but not as a filmmaker. I recently got into an incubator that focuses on making feature films with no budget. It has changed my writing perspective significantly. I’m writing a script with the intention of making my first feature. It’s based on practicality, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be a great story. For example, I recently made a short with my daughter called Lights Out, which is a horror film about “the monsters under your bed.” I took a paper cutout and a flashlight to create my “monster,” and it played with the tricks of your mind, being more effective than if I had tried to put something big on camera.
You’ve already earned the Guy Gallo Award and the Louis Sudler Award — how has recognition impacted your confidence or direction as a filmmaker?
Validation is nice, but I’ve also experienced plenty of rejection. I’m confident in myself and feel like I’m happy to have that recognition, but I really want this to become a career. Therefore, the accolades will always be secondary to my pursuit of my passion.
As you develop your first independent feature, what have been your biggest creative or logistical challenges so far?
Writing within a limited budget, like I was saying before. I write thrillers, and trying to create something that keeps a certain pace without a big budget can strain your creative juices. It’s one of the most challenging tasks I’ve undertaken, but it’s helping me grow.
Looking ahead, what do you want your body of work to say about who you are and what you value?
I want my work to show the inner dichotomy of people. I’ve learned that even the worst person can still possess the best qualities, and vice versa. I think I’m a contrarian in many ways in my art, and I want to express that there’s humanity in all of us, no matter who we are.
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