Ten-Cent Daisy, the new independent thriller from director Lisbon Okafor, is, at its core, a film about mermaids– but it’s much more than that. The film, about an estranged family of mer-people living as humans in contemporary California, is a strikingly personal tale of grief, longing for a distant home, and the process of embracing one’s power. On the eve of Daisy’s premiere digitally and in select theaters, I spoke to Okafor about the film’s evolution from story to screen, the power of turning loss into creation– and, of course, mermaids.

BOSTON HASSLE: Where did the idea for Ten-Cent Daisy originate?

LISBON OKAFOR: The idea for the story took shape twenty-one years ago when I traveled to the island of Grenada to attend my mother-in-law’s funeral. Her sudden death was a blow to the family. While I was there, I learned of a local girl that was once under her care. That girl was ostracized by her community because of her “peculiarities.” No one would speak to these peculiarities, except that she was different enough to warrant a collective shun. I wanted to cultivate such a character to explore what happens to a family once the matriarch—the heart of the family and primary caretaker– is gone.

Many years later, I shared versions of the tale with my young daughter at bedtime. She grabbed onto the fantastical elements of my most embellished version about social discrimination, with a mermaid as the central figure– mermaid because she was all about mermaids at the time. Her wide-eyed interest inspired me to realize the film project and embrace magical realism as my narrative style. So, with my co-writer and executive producer, Cheryl LaTouche, we leaned into the matriarch’s longing for connection with the natural world, symbolized by the flower names. It is an elegant way to tackle broad social issues with environmental implications.

BH: The actors have a very natural rapport– what was the casting process like?

LO: Credit for pulling together our incredibly diverse and talented cast goes to Dominique Dawson. She was not only the casting director, but she was also my co-producer and costume designer. She had a specific vision of who she wanted and reached out to them directly. If for whatever reason she ran into a roadblock, she came back with an even stronger option. We did not have much of an audition. Most of the cast are artists in their own right, doing great work. We were lucky to get any of them for such a small project. I think they were drawn to the material because for my part as the director, the role belongs to the actor once you are cast. That was my message to each of them when we discussed the film. I’m there to create a professional functioning environment where they can be their best. We had only eleven days for principal photography so there wasn’t time for long debates and philosophical discussions about characters and the scene. There were no rehearsals; block it, light it, shoot it. I only began to appreciate the debt of their performance in post, which fleshed out the story in ways that weren’t in the script.

BH: This is obviously a fantastical story in many ways, but it’s also clearly a very personal spin on family dynamics and the diaspora. Could you talk a little bit about the merging of these two aspects?

LO: The first draft of the script from 2003 was simply about a family returning home to bury the matriarch. We can all identify with the idea of living far from home and getting the news that mom or dad has passed. It can be devastating to each family member based on their relationship to the parent, and where they are on their life’s journey. Cheryl and I are very far from home, and we both dreaded the day the news would come. And then it did. And it was as devastating as we imagined. And it turns out you can never be prepared enough. And that is what we tried to write about. We discovered that all our siblings were dealing with separate issues, which would ultimately blow up once we were all gathered in the same space. One can only hope the healing begins when the shouting and fighting is over, and everyone returns to their lives.

That was how it started. Then we had our daughter playing on Grand Anse Beach in St. Georges in her mermaid tail. Stories about mermaids were now a bedtime ritual. Not the conventional Disney version, but the stories of old Caribbean and African myth. Loogaroo, Mami Water, that version. Over the years, we unconsciously merged the mermaid figure into our family story, to hold her interest I suppose. And for practical purposes relocated the story world to Berkeley, California, where she was in elementary school. That move presented a rare opportunity to explore the difficulty of navigating life as an immigrant woman of color in America. To examine strategies for survival in a new environment. The responsibilities that follow immigrant families wherever they escape to. The conflict between those that adapt well to their new habitat, like the oldest sister in the film, Orchid. And those that don’t, like the youngest, Daisy, who yearns to return home, back to where she belongs. “Home-home,” like she says, back to nature. And the ones like the middle sister, Violet, who find themselves alienated in both worlds, even with all their talent and potential.

BH: The mythology behind these characters feels incredibly fleshed out. Are there any more stories in the works? 

LO: Thank you for that. But what you see is only the beginning. Some of the mythological aspects emerged much later in post-production, which took about five years to complete—interrupted, and perhaps helped by the pandemic. I really began to understand the implication of the text after the rough cuts, and then years of staring into the abyss knowing you blew it. Shoot is over, and your cinematic tools are limited. Our research was unearthing a whole new world that we barely noticed or skimmed over due to limited resources. I decided to build out the precursor for the event. That process traced back to the origins of the mermaid figure. I followed the reverse trails of the Transatlantic Slave Trade back to the shores of Africa, up the Niger Delta, travelling up the Niger River towards the sand dunes of the Sahel region, then known as the Songhai Empire. In effect, I created a back story after the fact. Enough for a fantastic prequel if the opportunity arises. For now, with fresh perspective and help from my collaborators—Steve Condiotti, DP, Chris Martin, colorist, Aristides Zamora, editor– we teased out what we could with some old-school and experimental post-production techniques, especially in sound design by Kim Christensen, and the music, composed by Komica Purnell with contribution from “Nire” Erin Cooney.

BH: Do you have any future projects lined up? 

LO: This is now my third feature with female characters at the center, so I’m turning my attention to young men. I’ve just completed a script about rite of passage. A “boys to men” story if you will. I’d like to pass down a few thoughts to my nephews. Some are struggling. And ready to take on a Ten-Cent Daisy limited series prequel if the film catches fire!

Ten-Cent Daisy
2022
dir. Lisbon Okafor
90 min.

Available digitally, on demand, and in select theaters Friday, 10/28.