How do we relate to mental health in a line of work that is all too often affected by precariousness, wherein emotions are one of the prime materials of our work? Five film professionals with different backgrounds and experiences offer their answers. 

The death of Romanian journalist Iulia Marin at the age of just 32 years old set into motion a large public debate about mental health in the country – especially considering her extensive writings on her struggles with depression and mental illness. Amongst the many aspects of this necessary discussion that is much too rarely held in Romanian society, and beyond some of the discriminatory positions that were floated in the public discourse by local television station RomâniaTV, a vital question remains open: how do we relate to our mental wellbeing and to that of those around us, especially in a country where it’s still difficult to access mental health services, especially from an economic point of view, but also due to profound cultural stigma?

Over the past couple of years, the topic of mental health in the local film industry has slowly started to emerge as a point of interest – either through venues such as the Romanian Mental Health Film Festival, or through individual positions expressed in interview, but the discussion is still very much in a nascent stage. At the same time, all across the continent, more and more festivals have organized panels on this question, while the industry’s annual studies – such as the Nostradamus Report: see chapter 6 – shows that a large amount of workers don’t feel that the industry is beneficial to their mental health: for examples, the findings of one study conducted in the UK shows that 60% of respondents were considering changing their jobs in order to protect their mental health.

Considering the context, we decided to see how various professionals from the Romanian film industry relate to the topic of mental health – and so, we conducted a small survey, inviting five film professionals with a variety of backgrounds and experiences, both in front of the camera and behind it, onset and beyond, to answer a few questions. 

We wanted to see the difficulties that can be found all across the various jobs within the industry, while simultaneously probing the variety of challenges and situations that cinema workers face, and that have a negative impact on their mental health: from the difficulty of working directly with one’s own emotions to burnouts, from long working hours to the long-ranging effects of chronic underfunding, from the exposure to toxic attitudes and individuals to the unstable nature of the work itself. We sent this set of questions to actors, directors, cultural managers and programmers from Romania, in the hopes that we will be able to understand both particular difficulties, but also the industry-wide tendencies.

These are the questions we asked the participants:

     → How do you currently see the mental health situation among workers in the film industry, especially in your branch? Is the topic being discussed around you? How exactly can this line of work have an impact on mental health?

     → How do you, in your work, care for your own mental health and that of your colleagues?

     → What solutions (systemic or particular) do you think might be available to support and improve the situation of people experiencing mental health problems in the film industry?

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Teona Galgoțiu, filmmaker: “Who will tell us what is happening to our bodies and minds in a tour de force that consumes us on all levels?”

1/ Ever since college, I noticed how mental health was a major issue among my colleagues, and that we were receiving absolutely no guidance whatsoever about it because it was considered that dress, anxiety, depression, or overwhelming thoughts about the future are simply part of our “lives as artists”, and even as an inexhaustible source of inspiration, one to be encouraged in our projects. We are so used to the idea that our art is supposed to be connected to the harsh experiences that we’ve seen in life, be it our lives or the lives of others, that they’ve practically become synonymous.

I’ve had discussions about mental health with the colleagues I’ve been closest to but with no structure or stable context for these discussions. The conversations came and went without much effect, other than the awareness of the fact that I’m not the only one going through this (which is important, but clearly not enough).

We, the workers in the creative industry, are working with our emotions and dilemmas first and foremost, so the emotional labor that we’re putting in is continuous; we learn the technical sides of the trade, how to pitch our projects, how to submit our films to festivals… But in what concerns the most important parts, such as teamwork, or psychological and emotional resilience on set, is seen as something that comes naturally, like a skill that one is either born with or not, something that “you learn on the go”. For example, it’s so normalized to spend somewhere between 12 to 15 hours on set, and so, who will tell us what is happening to our bodies and minds in a tour de force that consumes us on all levels? „If you want to work in cinema, you have to push yourself, because that’s what everybody is doing.”

We learn the technical sides of the trade, how to pitch our projects, how to submit our films to festivals… But in what concerns the most important parts, such as teamwork, or psychological and emotional resilience on set, is seen as something that comes naturally, like a skill that one is either born with or not, something that “you learn on the go”.

Teona Galgoțiu, director

Not to conclude on a gloomy note, I think that, slowly but surely, initiatives are coming out, focused on informing the public about mental health. I hear from more and more people that they are going to therapy and that stressful conditions and toxic dynamics are starting to be called out at least a little bit.

2/ The most concrete form of taking care is to organize the filming schedule while keeping in mind that we are people, not machines. I learned this through the mistakes I made in college when the desperation to shoot as much as we could in as little time as possible made the whole crew become phantom-like from day one, with not even enough time for a real lunch break, everything being rushed to the max. A more humane schedule brings with it other mental health benefits: crew members aren’t as stressed, there are fewer arguments, and there’s more time for each department to do their job without feeling like they’re making compromise after compromise, reducing frustration and overall anxiety.

3/ First of all, it should start from college (not to mention middle school and high school). The college psychologist should be an active presence, not just someone waiting for students to knock on their door, but they should be actively organizing meetings, and workshops, inviting guest speakers, and so on. Obviously, it’s hard for a psychologist to do all this out of their own initiative – it’s a systemic decision, which can be encouraged by petitions, for example, but ideally, it should come from the top.

Secondly, I think that some preparatory discussions with a therapist before each shooting would be mandatory, and they should precisely focus on the anxiety, fatigue, and tensions that will follow, including the possibility for any member of the crew to contact them during the shooting if they feel overwhelmed. It may sound naive, but this is how I imagine an ideal system, one that fights old habits. No, we don’t have to sacrifice our minds and bodies for money. If we can’t afford more shooting days, we should rearrange the schedule or, in an unfortunate case, the script itself. Anything for a healthier filming routine that no longer normalizes burnout for people working in the film industry.

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Paul Dogioiu, cultural manager: “Everybody wants to change something about this, and everyone is jaded because nothing is truly changing.”

1/ First of all, I want to mention the position from which I am writing these lines. I worked for five years at the Super International Teenager Film Festival, and in the last year, I became the Executive Director of the Super NGO. Besides that, I have worked separately on independent projects in the field of art and activism. All my views tend to relate more to the area of cultural management and NGO management. 

– Money comes in spurts and you have to beg private financiers until the very last moment.

– When you fundraise, you often end up asking for money from people who are fundamentally out of touch with your work, who think that they sell popcorn at the cinematheque, and who insist on putting their logos on the popcorn boxes.

– The fact that it really isn’t a myth that some projects always get public funding and that are funneling said funds, that sometimes get a hundred times more money from the state than any other independent project. And that really makes you feel like an ant that is running next to an elephant. 

– No matter how good a project manager you may be, the last month before the event is always a rollercoaster. That’s mainly because of suppliers, sponsors, and partners who don’t care enough about you to pay attention until then. Although everything is in place, you can reserve the last month exclusively for last-minute changes and emails about bank transfers that should have happened long ago, but the funders had bigger fish to feed.

– The status of the cultural worker at the bottom of the food chain, somewhere between “a louse living off of state money” and “a louse living off of private money”.

– The status of the cultural worker at the bottom of the food chain, somewhere between “money-sucking louse of the state” and “money-sucking louse of the private sector”.

These would be some of the main problems that we are aware of in my bubble of artists, cultural managers, curators, critics, etc. Everyone knows about them, everyone is frustrated about them, everyone wants to change something about this and everyone is jaded because nothing is truly changing.

Graduates are unable to find jobs in their field of training. That is why we are talking about high unemployment or reconversion rates. And these are empty words, in fact. They say nothing about the effects of the multiple depressive episodes, the deep disillusionment, and the unrealistic expectations maintained by professors during college. 

Paul Dogioiu, cultural manager

2/ I’ve often asked myself this, and frankly, I find it increasingly disconcerting. When I was a film and arts festival director for teenagers, I admit that I had a list of psychotherapists and psychiatrists that I would refer people to when I saw them approaching burnout. By the way, if you want to understand why we freelance cultural workers get into chronic burnout, Veda Popovici has an article in Cutra magazine that explains the subject very well.

3/ I would love to come up with hopeful answers, such as free therapy for arts and culture workers, which is both a good and necessary solution, but unfortunately, it’s not enough.

The reality, unfortunately, is that nothing will improve until we talk about realistic funding from the state, about simplifying bureaucratic procedures. I think it is important to say that important steps have been made, for example, regarding some of the online platforms for funding applications in Romania. But even so, the truth is that none of us would know about all the options for accessing money from the state if we didn’t know either someone working at the Ministry of Culture or someone at the National Cultural Endowments Administration (AFCN) who at some point told us where to look for open calls, and how to interpret their vague questions. So, to give a clear answer, I see two solutions:

      – Increased budgets for arts, film, and culture;

      – The creation of a single platform for arts, film, and culture funding applications, where applicants could create a profile for their festival or artistic/cultural project, and then submit this profile to every financing call that they are eligible to.

In addition, it must also be said that Romanian universities often produce a colossal number of graduates in order to attract the money they need to ensure their functioning (and this is how the circle of poverty and cultural-artistic precariousness closes in our country). Graduates that, for the most part, are unable to find jobs in their field of training. That is why we are talking about high unemployment or reconversion rates. And these are empty words, in fact. They say nothing about the effects of the multiple depressive episodes, the deep disillusionment, and the unrealistic expectations maintained by professors during college. These can, at any time, become the final straw for a twenty-something-year-old who struggled to convince their family to get them to go to an art school, even a mediocre one, like the ones in Romania.

This is what the cultural-artistic environment in Romania looks like. The mental health discussion is so necessary in so many areas of life that it’s depressing. And what first might be burnout quickly turns into depression. And it grows in you, your colleagues, and your friends like a balloon in a fishbowl, sticking to the walls until you can’t tell the balloon and the fishbowl apart.

***

István Téglás, actor: „I grew up in a system that does not recognize or talk about mental health.”

1/ At the moment, discussions about mental health in our industry are only happening in private. Nobody is raising any questions about it during our actual work, or, if they do, it means that the theme, the role, and the script touches on the subject, but these things never get intertwined with the personal. There’s still a very clear line that is drawn between ourselves and our work. And although it often happens that people involved in certain projects show empathy towards the vulnerabilities of others – during the actual stages of work, all that disappears. And many those who care about this often do so nominally; because they know and appreciate you from other projects, but they only show this kind of grace to you, in particular.

Nobody is raising any questions about it during our actual work, or, if they do, it means that the theme, the role, and the script touches on the subject, but these things never get intertwined with the personal. There’s still a very clear line that is drawn between ourselves and our work.

István Téglás, actor

It’s often happened for me to meet people over coffee or during rehearsals and to think that they are extremely open, and then, during work, to see them turn into humiliating and abusive individuals who induced a state of fear and created an extremely toxic environment for those around them. In these situations, the others usually freeze up, because it’s hard to associate the person you know from everyday life with this “other” person. And the fear is usually the result of this state of freezing, and it produces all sorts of reactions – from the act of doubting your own judgment to disassociation. I’m saying all of this because this kind of pressure is very damaging to everyone that is involved, especially to those who have other vulnerabilities, and because it leads – not infrequently – to anxiety or even depression.

2/ I grew up in a system that does not recognize the validity, or talk about mental health. Unfortunately (and I say this because I used to validate this kind of attitude) I had to learn to cope – by putting my own health on the line. And that was a mistake. To be fair, the fear of not being called up or cast in productions if I were to publicly call something out also took its toll on me. I’ve only had the courage to talk about these things in recent years, admittedly because I’ve been through a lot and because I think we need a different approach to the subject.

3/ First of all, I think there should be some fairly simple clauses in our contracts, that would be more supportive of all people (and not just those with mental health problems) – whereby people would feel reassured if a delicate situation comes up, and we know that there are more than enough of them that can happen. Aside from that, I think there should be people on set whose sole job would be to mediate the various situations that come up on sets – between directors and actors for example, when certain moments may arise that can lead to discomfort, amongst other situations. This is a common practice in other countries – but in Romania, there isn’t really much communication at the moment, which is extremely harmful.

***

Ilinca Manolache, actress: „Maybe I’m tired of having to be a strong woman and I just want to be”

1/ I think the issues of this topic are not at all addressed, but rather, they are swept up under the rug. Both on a large and on a personal scale. There is still a certain sort of embarrassment that people feel when it comes to discussing mental health, just as there is shame in discussing sexual health. There are very few of us who openly talk about being in therapy, about struggling with anxiety, with depression, and very rarely does one hear voices that publicly admit to the fact that they are diagnosed with bipolar or borderline personality disorder, precisely out of the fear of being excluded from this fake-perfect social millieu.

More often than not, the importance of mental hygiene and the emotional/psychological support that one would need in this profession, which deals with an area of extreme emotionality, with self-analysis, with the imaginary, with the fictional, is ignored. There is an extremely fine line between what it means to have “talent”, which defined somewhat conservatively as the ability to transpose oneself as quickly and as believably as possible into a fictional situation, and the other side, that of the psychological and/or emotional imbalance that this transposition can lead to.

Just as we should go for yearly check-ups to see how our bodily health is faring, I believe that our mental health also needs attention and care.

Ilinca Manolache, actriță

2/ As far as I am concerned, I am constantly going to therapy, and I think it is part of one’s means of self-care. I feel privileged to be able to do this and  I trult feel the effects of therapy in the way I relate to my personal and professional life. Just as we (should) go for yearly check-ups to see how our bodily health is faring, I believe that our mental health also needs attention and care.

I’m honest about the fact that I feel frustrated, and I think that this makes me aware and conscious of the context in which I am existing. And by this I mean the general political context, the local political context, the context of a patriarchal society in which I, as a woman, have to exist and strive to do that, the doubtful artistic context in which abusive directors are nominated for awards and are given platforms that end up validating and certifying their (non-)value. The context in which actress Viorica Vodă addressed the very real issues of abuse that she experiences in this industry, which are well-known by everybody, but, still, the answer of a considerable amount of people working in it was to participate in a tidal wae of hate, of marginalizing those who defended her, of mocking the #MeToo movement, political correctness, “woke-ism” and “cancel culture” in a deeply ignorant, self-infatuated explosion of conservatism. The context in which a victim (of any sort) must be a person that is sympathetic and popular for her to be believable as a survivor. The context in which women must be strong… and so what if we aren’t? What if I am a weak and frustrated woman? Maybe I’m tired of having to be a strong woman all the time and I just want to be. Period.

It’s vital for me to take breaks for my health. I’m not capable of just putting out production after production. Whenever I am working on a film, no matter how intense it is, I have mental peace knowing that this is only a temporary situation, in contrast to an indeterminate amount of time, like in the case of repertory theatre. My frustration is also due to the fact that I get very bored after a while of shows that I’ve played in over and over again, they end up no longer defining or representing me, and this repetitiveness is emotionally and psychologically draining for me. We don’t talk that much about this. But I have a lot of colleagues who feel the same way I do, and this is something I discovered only after I started talking about this openly. I don’t have a solution for it, but it certainly affects the ongoing quality of certain shows and maybe we should make peace with the fact that these creations have a life as well as an end. 

The feeling that you have somewhere to go to talk about how you feel, that you are not alone, and that you are not judged for how you feel – all of this can really mean a lot. Unfortunately, psychotherapy is still a privilege. I think that, in our profession, we should find a formula so that at least financial hardship is no longer an issue, especially during college.

Ilinca Manolache, actriță

3/ Constant psychological counseling. The feeling that you have somewhere to go to talk about how you feel, that you are not alone, and that you are not judged for how you feel – all of this can really mean a lot. For me, it has and still does. Unfortunately, psychotherapy is still a privilege, and not everyone can afford to go to therapy. I think that, in our profession, we should find a formula so that at least financial hardship is no longer an issue, especially during college.

Last but not least, education. Let’s be accountable and accept that within a larger society it is important to educate ourselves and learn things that, even if they might initially make us feel uncomfortable or seem irrelevant, they count a lot for those that are around us, and so, it’s important to know how to relate to others with understanding. I think we should make peace with the idea that we live in a toxic society and that it’s normal to be wrong sometimes, but whenever someone points us out we should accept that we are wrong, and we should truly listen to the other’s point of view.

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Andrei Tănăsescu, programmer: „Our lives are so intertwined with work that we end up normalizing a work ethic that may not be healthy”

1/ Mental health is a delicate thing to discuss and I think it all comes down to the individual – hence I can’t speak for those around me and would therefore answer from my own perspective. I’m also aware that much of what I have to describe is applicable to other professions, but I nevertheless think there are particular aspects of the film industry that make it unique in the way it weighs down on us all.

For starters, most of us are freelancers. There are very few ‘salaried’ positions in festival programming, which means that our positions are in a constant state of precarity (last year was somewhat of a watershed moment in this respect). Contracts vary in length – some run the course of an entire year, others only a couple of months, and because we need to patch together a living wage, there is a lot of overlap between them. What this leads to are periods of intense work where we are constantly working overtime – more so than the usual ‘standard’, as our jobs, in general, don’t follow a 9-5 schedule. While we have the privilege of freedom with regards to setting our own working hours, this comes with the price of having to constantly be ‘on-call’ – be it through e-mail, phone, WhatsApp, etc. These aren’t jobs you can ‘clock out’ of – for a lot of us cinema (pardon the schmaltz) is life, and for better or worse, we’ve chosen it as our guiding, inspirational calling.

We don’t just watch the films but are constantly evaluating them in rapport with others, with ideas and topics that surface from within or are already floating in our contemporary social discourse.

Andrei Tănăsescu, programmer

To reach back to the ‘popular myths’ around programming, yes, we watch and select films – however, this is a process that consumes not just ‘time’, but requires active participation from us (conceptually and emotionally). We don’t just watch the films but are constantly evaluating them in rapport with others, with ideas and topics that surface from within or are already floating in our contemporary social discourse. When you consider this being applied to the hundreds of films seen each year, it becomes a process that is not just demanding, but also consuming.

Add to this the acceleration of time’s irregularity closer to, and during the actual festivals, and the various travels we take on and it’s easy to see the mental and physical toll we each take on.

Too often I’ve heard from friends or colleagues that were close to the dreaded ‘burnout’ (myself included). The film industry is in perpetual motion and it’s very easy to lose track of one’s mental/physical limits or quite simply delay that inevitable ‘break’ indefinitely.

2/ The most important thing has been to prioritize myself ahead of work – although more often than not, the reverse happens. Being more diligent with how I spend my ‘waking hours’, trying to adhere to a strict schedule for work, and ensuring leisure activities (listening to music, reading, going out with friends, etc.) don’t get postponed because of deadlines.

I’ve found that checking in with friends and colleagues helps to provide them with an outlet for support. Either by offering a break to ‘disconnect’ or reminding them (and ourselves, implicitly) that it’s necessary to take stock once in a while of one’s health (mental or physical).

3/ I think the first, necessary step is to give visibility to discussions that concern mental health in our line of work. It cannot be overstated how encouraging it is to see more people talking openly about (their own) mental health and seeing the public discourse on therapy change for the better. 

Whenever possible, regularly check in with friends – it goes a long way to remind them of the means of support in their lives.

Andrei Tănăsescu, programmer

It’s assumed that we each carry ourselves with the proverbial fortitude but at the end of the day, our lives are so intertwined with work that we end up normalizing a work ethic that may not be healthy – ignoring ourselves and our needs in the process.

It’s often difficult, if not impossible, given the ‘round-the-clock’ schedule we’re tied to, but taking time off to literally ‘disconnect’ and recalibrate ourselves is incredibly important.

Lastly, whenever possible, regularly check in with friends – it goes a long way to remind them of the means of support in their lives.

Flavia Dima

Film critic & journalist. Collaborates with local and international outlets, programs a short film festival - BIEFF, does occasional moderating gigs and is working on a PhD thesis about home movies. At Films in Frame, she writes the monthly editorial - The State of Cinema and is the magazine's main festival reporter.