‘This Is a Truthful Film’

Paul Andrew Williams arrives at this year’s Edinburgh International Film Festival with a lot of gratitude.

“It launched my career,” the director-writer-producer says about EIFF. It was here, nearly two decades ago, he emerged as a fresh new voice on the British film scene, wowing audiences with the BAFTA-nominated neo-noir crime drama London to Brighton. Such was the success of the film in the Scottish capital that it earned Williams the fest’s prestigious New Director’s Award.

“It makes me feel a little bit emotional, actually, because such a lot has happened since [then],” he tells The Hollywood Reporter. Williams, known for psychological thriller Cherry Tree Lane and more recently, the Neil Maskell-starring Bull, comes to the 78th edition with the U.K. premiere of Dragonfly.

Andrea Riseborough stars as Colleen, neighbor of the elderly Elsie (Brenda Blethyn). The two become acquainted, and Colleen begins to care for Elsie in the place of agency care workers hired by her middle-aged son, John (Jason Watkins), who, overworked, weren’t doing a particularly good job. In Williams’ searing examination of loneliness among the most vulnerable in society, the audience comes to discover Colleen’s intentions might not be exactly what they seem.

“It’s a truthful film,” Williams says about what financiers saw that made them want to take a chance on the low-budget production. “Whatever you want to say about what genre it might or might not fit into, the characters are real and the situations are real, and I guess that’s what they fell in love with.”

Dragonfly first premiered at Tribeca, and is now set to get its British premiere in Edinburgh out of competition on Saturday, Aug. 16, before its U.K. theatrical run. EIFF director Paul Ridd described Williams’ work as “a wonderfully acted film” and “a tour de force from a major force of U.K. cinema.”

Below, Williams tells THR how Blethyn unknowingly saved the entire production, why Dragonfly is certainly not a horror film — though he is heading to a few horror festivals with it — and how his affinity for Edinburgh remains just as fervid as it was in 2006 with London to Brighton: “In that moment, your work is not just for your own DVD player. People might not like it, people might really like it, but people are reacting to you, and I think that’s a really important thing in life.”

Talk to me about Dragonfly, and where this film started.

We just shot Bull or we were about to shoot Bull. And it was COVID. I was like, “How are we ever going to film again?” I thought, I’m going to try and write something that I can shoot very small, very few actors. I tend to try and write stuff that I think won’t cost much money because it’s always so difficult to raise it. So the idea came about two people living next door [to each other] and I realized I started basing them on [real] people. Not like, “this is her” and “this is him” but there’s elements of my nan involved — Colleen has got lots of stuff that’s happened to her that I can relate to very clearly, even though, obviously, I’m not a female. Luckily, the guy who produced Bull read it and was like, “Okay, I really think it’s good, but now we’re going to get the money first.” And people weren’t really that keen on financing this low-budget film about two people on an estate in bungalow. Luckily, we found some very generous people who did, and then waited for actors to come available.

It is hard to get movies made these days, and you do have to get creative in terms of a budget. What do you think those financiers saw in this film that they thought made Dragonfly a worthy investment?

I always come from making stuff for nothing. Bull was £500,000 ($676,747). London to Brighton was £80,000 ($108,279. Cherry Tree Lane, which I made, was like £250,000 ($338,372). So I try to keep it in a relatively lowish budget. Obviously, I would rather [have] a bit more money. But in terms of the script, it was honest. It’s a truthful film. Whatever you want to say about what genre it might or might not fit into, the characters are real and the situations are real, and I guess that’s what they fell in love with.

Had you wanted to write on social care and the elderly for a while?

I hadn’t gone out with that intention. I’m aware this sounds like [I’m] a complete wanker, right? But I do like writing about real people. I do like writing about stuff that I could relate to, and ordinary people dealing with ordinary stuff suddenly dealing with bigger-than-ordinary stuff. I’ve always liked that. It was never a mission to write something that was trying to say something — that wasn’t the mission. Although, by concentrating on people who live that kind of life, you naturally do say something.

If you’re writing a story about certain types of people who live a certain type of life, then just by doing that alone, you show the effects of society on that particular life. Carers coming in, admittedly, it’s not so personal. They’re not personal with Elsie, and I don’t blame them for that because they’re put in a horrific situation of having to work like that and to look after so many people in such a short space of time with no break. And for very, very, very little money. Obviously I think we should take care of our elderly a little bit, but I also think we should take care of our vulnerable. Loneliness is horrible and the world’s got so much shit in it. All of that stuff, I think, could be changed if there was less ignorance and ego. But then I’ve probably got ignorance and ego as well.

Has the reaction to the film surprised you?

The reaction has surprised me. A lot of people relate to it in terms of having elderly relatives and being aware of people who require care, and about loneliness and about judgment. And so people have talked to me about that, and the fact that [I’m] highlighting the elderly a little bit. But not like the elderly kicking their heels as they run down the street doing a dance, but the proper elderly, who are poor. It’s a small film and I’ll get told off, probably, for saying that. I do think it’s a good film. I’m very proud of it.

To get into a festival and [have] people go and watch your film… It’s just very, very fortunate. You have to thank your stars for that being the case.

With a stellar cast under your belt too — Andrea, Brenda and Jason — that feels like a testament to the director you are.

We were looking for an actress. We obviously had to find someone of a certain age, but also, because she’s a poor woman, we [didn’t want to] cast somebody who everyone’s going to think, “Hey, she’s fucking loaded.” We were two weeks away from shooting, and we had probably gone through everyone. We were literally at the point of working out how much me and the two producers, Dom [Tighe] and Marie-Elena [Dyche] wre going to have to pay people. We [thought], “we’re just going to quit.” Then my agency gave the script to Brenda’s agent, and I heard Brenda was reading it. I was feeling so low and shit about it and then suddenly got a call saying Brenda really likes it and wants to do it.

I was like, “What?!” This is two weeks before it started [shooting], and Brenda wasn’t aiming to do anything because she’d just done Vera. She was like, “I love this so much.” I went and met her, we had a laugh, she was fantastic. Jason I’ve worked with before — I know him and I like him, and he’s really good. So we were very lucky to get all these people involved. They said they liked the script, and I believe them. And working with all of them, they really were special, each of them is a genius.

Wow. Brenda really came and saved the day.

I mean, she would probably not think that because she wasn’t sure about just how much we needed someone at that point. She really is brilliant. In fact, every actor who’s in it, really, [is brilliant]. I love actors.

Do you think that’s unusual for a director to love their actors?

I used to be an actor — that’s how I first started. I went to drama school and being an actor. You can tell sometimes when a director doesn’t really know how to speak to you. So I first started wanting to direct, because I wanted to do that part — work with actors and create stuff and create roles. Because the thing is, you can have the best of everything in a film, but if the acting’s poor, then… [Shrugs.] The film is the sum of its parts. There are some things in a film you can forgive and still have a good film, but acting? No.

Is it fair to say being an actor has made you a better director?

You would have to ask other people, because if I was to say, “Yeah,” I think I would sound like a wally. But when I was an actor, I would always go with my instinct. The same thing [applies] as a director. [I’m] not necessarily technically-minded, although I have got better over the years, but it’s about how I feel about what I’m seeing.

How do you think Dragonfly compares to your previous work? Does it showcase your growth as a director?

I just don’t know. Because what I think I’ve learned, which may or may not show in the span of work I’ve done, is to know when to not do anything, or to not interfere, or to not need to say anything or offer an opinion on something, and to let people who know what they’re doing feel comfortable enough to do what they’re doing. So basically, you rely on everyone else. You try and be as inclusive as possible. And I then try and think of the script and the film as if I was watching it, and the details that I would want to see if I was watching it. So I might worry less about something small and precise, about something specific, if I think that the audience won’t pick up on it. It’s pointless.

I’ve seen comparisons drawn between your work and the work of Mike Leigh, which must be a huge honor.

If I’m absolutely honest, I’m neither a fan or not a fan of Mike Leigh. I would say I’ve not seen a lot of his films, and that’s not to say I’ve avoided his films! The thing is, being compared to someone positive — it’s what happened with London to Brighton as well, [people spoke of] Ken Loach — or someone who’s seen as a really quality director, that’s obviously great. That’s going to be a good [thing]. I’d like to think my films would be different, but how different can any film be from 50 others that have been made?

Let’s talk about where this film ends up, where some have said it leans almost into horror. Without spoilers, can you talk about the direction you headed in and why it lands there?

I like to think the end is horrific, but I don’t think it’s a horror. I also think I have played up to people’s preconceptions of the characters a little bit. And yes, there’s music and there’s moments and there is a particular scare — which, I promise you, I never saw it [like that]. A super jump [scare]. And it really does make people jump. When I first saw the editor who’d edited it, I was like, “My God.” And there was a choice of whether we actually kept it in. Because does that detract from the film?

But all the things that happen in the end are justified in terms of what the characters have been pushed to do. Do I think it’s horrific? Yeah, because I think there’s a lot of things in life are horrific. Do I think it’s horror? Not in the terms of making an out and out horror film. Which is great — I think we’re going to a couple of horror festivals. I’m preparing myself to be booed.

You’re taking Dragonfly to some horror festivals?

Yeah. We’ve been invited to a couple of which, in my past experience, have been the most amazing festivals of all time. People really, really want to fucking enjoy your movie. You have some very loyal film genre fans.

With the New Director’s Award for London to Brighton in 2006. I’m sure you have a real affinity for the Edinburgh fest.

I feel incredibly, incredibly grateful that they have put the film on. It makes me feel a little bit emotional, actually, because such a lot has happened since that film, London to Brighton, was put out there. I really didn’t expect anything when we were making it. It was the beginning of so many, so many things from Edinburgh. Sean Connery said he really liked it. The fact that [my work] has been picked again… I’m just very fortunate.

We made it for no money, and under the radar, no one knew who we were. The thing is, festivals do that. Festivals do give opportunities for you, to have people watch your work, and most of the time, show interest. In that moment, your work is not just for your own DVD player. People might not like it, people might really like it, but people are reacting to you, and I think that’s a really important thing in life.

Edinburgh International Film Festival 2025 runs Aug. 14-20.