James Barker's Journey From Psychiatric Care to Directing Remnants of Nova
When James Barker stood at the microphone, accepting the award for “best LGBTQ+ short” at the Jim Thorpe Independent Film Festival for his film “Remnants of Nova,” he advocated for stories that humanize queer people and throw off the trauma-porn typically associated with films centered on queer characters.
I caught up with James recently to uncover what energizes him and his craft, and to understand how he’s found success working in the entertainment business.
We’re in his office, which I would describe as maximalist. The walls are adorned with movie posters, from Lawrence of Arabia to Fucktoys. There's a shelf dedicated to his collection of Criterion Blu-rays, another to E.T. memorabilia, and a not insignificant number of endearing family photos.
He’s wearing a brown floral embroidered button down and dark blue jeans, his blonde curls flow over his forehead to his glasses. A pigeon is tattooed on his arm. He’s fixated on a podcast edit for the Daniel Lubetzky Foundation, headed by the billionaire founder of KIND Snacks, before he swivels around, props his feet up on his desk, ready to talk.
Quantify for the public: exactly how much pot did you smoke in college? How many classes did you skip? And how many of those smoke sessions ended with you making out with other guys? Too much is the answer. A lot. If you couldn’t tell by the amount of tie-dye I was wearing and the long hair. I would sleep through many courses. I slept through Roberta’s class all the time. Sorry, Roberta. She told my parents at graduation that my grad gift should be an alarm clock. And I kissed a guy one time. It was the beard-on-beard that was different. I wasn’t used to that.
I heard that you swiped right on your partner, Monica, while you were sitting on the toilet. Confirm or deny? Confirm. It was November 11th, 2020. She actually swiped right on me first, so when I swiped, we immediately connected. And the rest is history. That was almost six years ago now.
What is it about Monica that gives you the space and sanity to chase a career as volatile as indie filmmaking? She gives me the confidence to be who I am, express who I am, and go after my dreams. I think that’s something that’s incredibly important for a partner, to have that space to be yourself, to discover yourself. I think it helps that we both are long-time therapy users, and so we both understand that idea of talking things out, working through your past.
If you had to eat something for the rest of your life, what is it? I would say phở, the Vietnamese soup. That is my favorite thing. Where I grew up in Virginia, there was a very large Vietnamese population, so there were a lot of Vietnamese restaurants. So phở is honestly like my comfort food.
Let’s get real. You spent time in a mental health facility a few years back. Were you terrified when you went in? It was very scary at first. That was equally the worst week of my life but also one of the best weeks of my life, because that was the lowest of the low. And then it was basically—when you’re that low, the only way is up.
How did that experience shape your craft? It was such a unique experience that I was like, “How do I tell this story of being in here?” You hear other people’s stories. I remember this guy, we all nicknamed Burrito because he would burrito himself in a blanket on the couch, he had schizophrenia, and the only thing for him that worked to make all those thoughts and feelings go away was meth. It was really interesting to learn why he was a meth addict. So you hear these stories of, like, “Oh, these meth addicts,” blah blah, whatever. But then you meet somebody who is, and you really learn why, or at least why it started. I think that was really important, to step into somebody else’s shoes, which is what it’s like making a film.
Why choose this ridiculously hard industry, cinema, to work in? I think it’s my way of asking bigger questions inside myself and putting my thoughts and feelings on the screen, putting them into these characters. Even for Remnants of Nova, I saw myself in both characters. The current script that I’m writing, I take notes after my therapy sessions for my script, because I’m asking my therapist these big philosophical questions. I’ve been studying Carl Jung lately because I’m just so fascinated by stuff he said. Not that I subscribe to everything he said, but it’s stuff like that I’m really into—that level of understanding humans.
Why should people watch Remnants of Nova? We didn’t want to make a film that was about queer trauma. It wasn’t, “Hey, I have mental health issues because I’m gay.” It’s, “Hey, I’m gay and I have mental health issues.” If you’re looking for an exploration of queer characters dealing with their own mental health problems, and if you’ve ever been in a conflict with a friend, or family member, or a partner where you both are dealing with your own mental health problems, this could be a film for you to have a view of what that looks like.
James wrote, directed, and produced Remnants of Nova, now playing on Lavendr. He runs a remote post-production house called Edits, Etc. during the day and feverishly writes scripts, reads a wide array of books, watches movies, and socializes abundantly outside of work.
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