Derek Frey - Interview

Do you think suffering makes better art?

I don’t think suffering necessarily equates to better art, but there is some truth to the idea that, at times, something meaningful can emerge from it. It can sharpen your perspective or push you to explore things more deeply, but it’s not a requirement.

For me, it’s really about honesty. Sometimes that honesty comes from difficult experiences, but it can just as easily come from observation, empathy, or even humor. The Current State of the Backyard Pool Industry touches on anxiety and disconnection, but it approaches those ideas through absurdity and playfulness. That felt more truthful than leaning into darkness alone.

Even in films like Sweeney Todd or Viaticum, which explore heavier emotional spaces, it’s not the suffering itself that resonates. It’s the clarity of emotion underneath it.

What’s the most personal story you’re still afraid to tell?

I wouldn’t say it’s the story I’m afraid to tell. It’s more the one that’s most challenging for me to fully immerse myself in. The concept is very personal to me, and it’s also quite psychological and dark. I think about it often, but putting myself into that headspace for a prolonged period to write it is something I’m not quite ready for yet.

As a filmmaker, you’re not just telling the story. You’re living inside it for a long stretch. Some emotional spaces are harder to inhabit than others. I’ve found that I often approach those ideas indirectly first, through surrealism or dark comedy, like in Motel Providence or Kill the Engine. It creates a bit of distance, a way of circling something difficult before stepping fully into it.

With the project I consider most personal, I know I’ll get there eventually. It’s just a matter of being ready to stay in that space long enough to do it honestly.

6. Have you ever compromised your vision?

Compromise is constantly at play for any filmmaker, and I don’t really view it as a negative. It’s part of the process. Film is collaborative by nature, and you’re always responding to new ideas, limitations, and discoveries along the way.

What I’ve found is that through compromise, you often arrive at something better than what you originally envisioned. It forces you to adapt, to rethink, and to stay open. Whether it’s producing on large-scale films like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or Alice in Wonderland, or a more contained project, the goal is to protect the core of the story while allowing it to evolve. Adapting and moving forward is really at the heart of filmmaking.

What does “making it” really mean to you?

For me, “making it” comes down to whether the work resonates with people. Whether it makes an audience laugh, cry, feel uneasy, or even scared. Moving people in some way is what it’s about.

The films I’m proudest of, whether it’s something I’ve directed like The Current State of the Backyard Pool Industry, or earlier work like Captain Crabcakes, or films I’ve been part of like Big Fish, are the ones that stay with people. The ones that come up years later in conversation, where someone remembers how it made them feel. That kind of connection, that lasting impression, is what “making it” means to me.

Who do you create for when nobody is watching?

At the core, I’m always creating for myself. It starts as an expression of something I’m trying to understand, explore, or work through. That’s the initial spark, and it has to come from a place that feels personal and honest.

Early on, especially with my college films like Into Thin Air and Marooned In Our Room, the work was very raw. It was pure expression, almost just energy being put onto the screen without much consideration of how it would be received. It was instinctive. Over time, that’s evolved. You do start to think about the audience more. Not in a way that compromises the idea, but in how you shape it. How you craft something so that others can connect with it, feel something from it, and hopefully take something away from it.

So it always begins as something personal, but it’s built with the hope that it reaches beyond that.

What’s a failure that secretly helped you grow?

Early in my career, I put a lot of weight on how a project was received externally. Box office, reviews, that kind of immediate response. If something didn’t land the way I’d hoped, it could feel like a failure.

Over time, I’ve come to see that those initial reactions don’t always define a film’s life. Some projects find their audience later. They get rediscovered, reinterpreted, and embraced in ways you couldn’t have predicted.  Film is art.

That shift helped me focus more on the process and the work itself. What you learn, how you grow, and how each project informs the next.

Do you think competition is healthy in the film industry?

Competition can be healthy. It can push people to raise their game. But at the same time, we’re in a moment where many of the larger studios are folding into each other, and the playing field is actually getting smaller. That’s a real concern. Fewer platforms and fewer decision-makers can mean fewer opportunities for diverse voices and risk-taking. So while competition can be motivating creatively, structurally it’s important that the industry continues to support a wide range of filmmakers and perspectives.

For me, collaboration will always be more important than competition.

What’s the most human moment you’ve experienced on set?

There are moments when performance and reality blur slightly, and you can feel something genuine happening in front of the camera.

I remember that on Big Fish. There was a sincerity to the emotion that felt very pure. And on Sweeney Todd, particularly in Johnny Depp’s performance, there were moments of raw emotion that didn’t feel like acting so much as something deeply internal coming to the surface.

Those are the moments that stay with you. They remind you that beyond all the technical aspects, filmmaking is really about capturing something human.

Is there a role, film, or script that feels unfinished in your heart?

There are definitely films that, in hindsight, felt like they were cut a bit short in post-production due to looming release dates. Sometimes the schedule dictates the finish line, rather than the film itself telling you when it’s truly ready.

I’ve had experiences where, with more time to refine and shape things appropriately, I believe the final result could have been stronger. That’s part of the reality of working in both independent and studio environments. There are always constraints. But those experiences stay with you. They shape how you approach the next project and reinforce how valuable time is in the finishing process.

Do you separate your personal identity from your artistic one?

They’re connected, but not identical, and that’s something that’s evolved over time. Earlier in my career, there was very little separation between my personal identity and my artistic one. The work and my life were almost completely intertwined. But with time, responsibilities, and having a family, it’s only natural, and healthy, to create more of a distinction.

The work still reflects parts of who I am, but it doesn’t define me in the same all-encompassing way it once did. That separation has actually been beneficial. It allows for clearer perspective, both creatively and personally.

What’s the hardest goodbye you’ve had to say to a project?

They’re all difficult to say goodbye to in different ways, but Big Fish was a particularly hard one to part with. The entire experience of making that film was such a positive and creatively fulfilling one. There was a real sense of joy and collaboration, and I think that energy lives on in the film itself. It also led to meaningful relationships and friendships that I still carry with me.

On a more personal level, my own film Green Lake was also hard to let go of. It was a long journey from start to finish, with a particularly intensive post-production process. I spent a lot of time shaping it, so stepping away from it felt like leaving something behind.

There’s always a sense of loss when a project ends, but that’s also what pushes you toward the next one.

Have you ever felt creatively burned out?

Fortunately, I don’t think I’ve ever felt completely creatively burned out. There are moments, after a particularly demanding shoot or a long post, where I feel depleted. You’ve been so immersed that it takes time to reset.

But even then, my mind is already moving toward what’s next. I’ve never been someone who enjoys being idle for too long. There’s always another idea forming in the background. The creative impulse doesn’t really shut off. It just shifts gears.

 What inspires you more: chaos or structure?

Both are essential. Structure gives you a framework. It allows the story to function. But chaos is often where the most interesting ideas emerge.

Different projects require different balances. I like to be well prepared, but I also try to leave room for things to surprise and percolate during a shoot. Some of the best moments come from the unexpected.

It’s probably one of the reasons I enjoy creating music videos so much. The music provides the guardrails, sometimes even a loose narrative structure, but within that there’s a freedom to explore and embrace a bit of chaos.

That balance between control and openness is something I’m always chasing.

If you had to start over from zero, would you choose the same path?

Yes, without hesitation. I’ve genuinely enjoyed the path. The people I’ve met, the collaborations, and the projects and experiences along the way have all been incredible. I’ve also been fortunate to have the support of so many talented people throughout it all, and that’s made a huge difference in my evolution as a filmmaker.

At the end of the day, it still feels like a fun, unpredictable, sometimes chaotic ride through filmmaking, and one I’m grateful to still be on. And that’s a big part of why I’d choose it all over again.

When your career ends one day, what do you hope people will say about you?

I hope that when people look back at my work, they can see a consistent thread running through it. A storytelling voice that moves between the otherworldly and the deeply human, embracing the offbeat, the emotional, and the unexpected. I’ve always been drawn to stories that celebrate the unusual, the emotional, the strange. Whether it’s something I’ve directed like The Current State of the Backyard Pool Industry or Green Lake, or films I’ve been part of like Mars Attacks! or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, there’s a part of me that’s always pushing toward something a little off-center.

And hopefully, they’d say I raised the freak flag high, embraced individuality, championed the outsider, and stayed true to that voice.

Two films that have marked your life for better or for worse…

My life was shaped for the better by two very different films: The Silence of the Lambs and Big Hero 6.

What do you think about Acting/ filmmaking schools?

Filmmaking school has been an incredible experience. Even though I’m still a student, being around like minded creators and learning through hands on work has helped me pick up so many new skills.

Have you ever hated your ambition?



People tell me I have a god complex, but I’m really just a person who won't quit. We only get one life. Why wouldn't I try to do it all?

Francois Truffaut used to think that "Film Lovers are sick people”… was he right?



To enjoy watching or making films requires months of hyper focus and a massive time commitment. Perhaps others see that level of dedication as a 'sickness' because they aren't wired to push themselves that hard.

Close your eyes…if I say “Cinema” what do you see?



The room is filled with people collaborating, their faces bright with smiles as they work.

Who’s the Director\Actor\Writer that taught you the most?



Viola Davis is the person who has taught me the most.

About your job, tell us your biggest dream and your worst nightmare…



I dream of a life defined by the freedom to travel at a moment's notice. Because I see the world through a lens, my greatest fear is losing my sight , losing the ability to experience color and the stories captured in pictures.

How important is it to have a good Cinematographic Culture?



It’s important because it fosters empathy. We need to see how many different people see the world.

What would you like to improve as a Filmmaker\Actor\Writer?



I strive to improve every day because I consider myself a lifelong student.

A big producer give you the chance to direct\to play (in) the remake of one of your favorite black and white Movie (if you have one)… what film do you choose?



It would Dr. Strangelove

Film Industry it’s a tough place and sometimes is normal to feel lost and discouraged… who’s the person that keeps you motivated?

My mother is my greatest motivation. Even in the hardest times, she always finds a way to keep smiling.

Alfred Hitchcock said: "To make a good film you need 3 things: The script, the script and the script".  Do you agree with him?

What’s your most ambitious project for the future?

I totally agree , a great script is the foundation for everything. Without it, a director can't really bring the story to life. My big dream is to launch a film festival that funds students to make a movie in just one week, ending with a huge screening where people can vote for their favorites!


Do you think that sadness or at least melancholy let be more creative?

It’s important because it fosters empathy. We need to see how many different people see the world.

What do you wish to yourself as a Filmmaker\Actor \Writer?

My only wish is that I never stop writing or using a camera.

What really excites you artistically or emotionally?

What really excites me artistically and emotionally is the moment when emotion becomes visible,  when a look, a movement, or a silence says more than words. Because I’m also a composer, I’m deeply drawn to the intimacy between sound and visible emotion, to how music can reveal what an image is holding inside. It’s that alignment between what you see and what you hear that moves me the most.

Marlon Brando said “Never confuse the size of your Paycheck with the size of your talent”. Do you agree?

Yes, I totally agree. A paycheck often reflects timing, access, and the market, not the depth of someone’s talent. Talent is proven over time, through risk, consistency, and the ability to move people, even when the resources are small. Of course success matters and artists deserve to be paid well, but money is not a reliable measure of artistic value. The real measure is what remains when the hype is gone: the work.

Have you ever been discouraged by someone about your life\career choices?

Yes, I have. It happens to everyone at some point. When you choose a creative path, doubt often comes from outside before it comes from within. But over time I learned that discouragement usually says more about other people’s fears than about your own direction. It forced me to clarify why I was doing this in the first place, and in that sense it actually strengthened my commitment rather than weakening it

Do you think is harder for a woman being a Filmmaker?

Yes, I do think it’s harder. Not because of talent or vision, but because the industry still carries structural and cultural biases that women have to navigate every day. Women are often required to prove their authority, competence, and voice more than men, especially in leadership roles like directing. That said, I’m constantly inspired by women filmmakers who turn that pressure into strength, clarity, and originality. Their perspective is not just needed — it’s essential for cinema to truly reflect the world we live in.

Do you think that Fame and money could easily change your own Vision as a Filmmaker\actor\screenplay?

They can, if you let them. Fame and money bring comfort, expectations, and noise, and all of that can slowly pull you away from your original instinct. But they can also offer freedom, the freedom to protect your vision, choose your collaborators, and take creative risks. For me, the challenge is staying grounded and curious, remembering that the vision comes first. If that stays intact, success becomes a tool rather than a distraction.

Who’s the Movie star that made you dream for the first time?

I’d say Marcello Mastroianni and Roger Moore. As a child, Roger Moore represented pure cinematic fantasy — adventure, elegance, and the idea that cinema could be larger than life. He made movies feel like dreams you could step into.

Mastroianni came later and opened a different door: a more intimate, ironic, and human way of being on screen. Together, they shaped both sides of my imagination — the dream and the depth.

Make a wish about your career...

I wish to keep the freedom to choose stories that truly matter to me, and the courage to tell them in my own voice. To grow without losing sensitivity, and to keep building films where image, sound, and emotion remain deeply connected, no matter how the industry around me changes.

Talking about cinema\Showbusiness, how hard is to remain completly honest to yourself as an artist?

It’s very hard. Cinema and show business constantly ask you to adapt to trends, expectations, numbers, and visibility. The pressure isn’t always obvious, but it’s persistent. Remaining honest means learning when to listen and when to protect your inner voice. It’s a daily negotiation. For me, honesty isn’t a fixed state, it’s a choice you have to make again with every project.

The Film you have loved the most?

Cinema Paradiso

And now, don’t be shy….the one that annoyed you the most?

I’d say Transformers.

Not because of its scale or technical achievement, which are impressive, but because it represents a kind of cinema where spectacle overwhelms emotion. For me, when noise replaces intimacy and everything is pushed to excess, I lose the connection. It’s a reminder that bigger isn’t always deeper, and that cinema needs emotion as much as impact.

Your biggest artistic goal is…

My biggest artistic goal is to create films that feel timeless, works where image, sound, and emotion are inseparable, and where technology serves sensitivity rather than replacing it. I want to build a body of work that stays with people quietly, like a memory, and continues to resonate long after the film has ended.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

If I weren’t a filmmaker, I’d want to focus entirely on music, specifically composing soundtracks. I’m fascinated by how sound can shape emotion, memory, and perception without being seen. Writing music for films, theatre, or even imagined worlds would still allow me to tell stories, just through rhythm, texture, and silence instead of images.

How important is to be rewarded as an Artist?

Being rewarded is meaningful, it’s a form of recognition and encouragement, a sign that the work has reached someone. But it’s not what defines an artist or the value of the work. Awards come and go; what matters more is staying honest to your vision and continuing to create, even when there’s no external validation. In the end, the most important reward is knowing the work is true to who you are.

Do you have regrets?

I sometimes wish I had started earlier. But at the same time, I know I wouldn’t have had the same depth, patience, or sensitivity. Everything I lived before cinema fed the way I see and feel stories today. So rather than a regret, it feels more like an awareness, that timing shapes the work as much as intention.

What’s the messagge you wanna express through your art?

The message I want to express is that emotion is a form of truth. That beneath noise, speed, and surface, there is something fragile and human that connects us all. Through my work, I try to remind people to slow down, to feel, and to listen — because in that space, we recognize ourselves in others.

Did anyone ever tell you weren't good enough?

I’m sure it’s happened, but I’ve never let outside opinions dictate my direction. I’m driven more by internal standards than external validation.

How can you stay focused on your goal?

Clear visualization and deliberate goal-setting. If you know what you’re building toward, distractions tend to fall away on their own.

Have you ever had a breakdown because of your Job?

No. Filmmaking is demanding, but losing perspective is counterproductive. Pressure is part of the process—you either learn to manage it or it manages you.

Talent is a blessing or a curse?

Talent is a blessing. The real curse is wasting it through complacency or fear.

What would you like to improve about yourself as an
actor/director/screenplayer?

Like most independent filmmakers, I’m always wishing for more time, more resources, and a larger crew. Learning how to maximize limitations while still elevating the work is an ongoing pursuit.

What's the worst critic you have received?

That something I wanted to create was not possible given the available resources. I think “The Sanguine” is a great example of a success in this category.

If you weren't an actor/director/screenplayer what would you like to be?

I’m already a business owner, and I genuinely enjoy it. Creativity isn’t limited to art—you can apply it to problem-solving, leadership, and building things that didn’t exist before.

If Cinema was a color what would it be?

Deep crimson—something rich, timeless, and capable of conveying both beauty and danger.

A day without a movie is...

Perfectly fine. But a day with a great movie can be unforgettable.

If someone offered you to play/direct/write in/a movie that you despice
but that for sure will make you rich and famous...would you accept the job?

No. If I’m not passionate about a project, I wouldn’t do it justice—and that wouldn’t be fair to the audience or the collaborators.

What's your greatest ambition?

To stay honest in my work and give my full effort to whatever I choose to create.

What's your biggest fear?

Knowing I could have done better and choosing not to. I strive to ensure that never happens.

Does music helps you to play/direct, write?

Absolutely. I was a full-time musician before film, and rhythm often comes first for me. Music usually shapes the emotional core of a project before the visuals are fully formed.

You have the chance to make a Silent movie, what's your message to the
audience?

That emotion doesn’t require dialogue. If the images are honest enough, the audience will understand everything that matters.

Share your speech if you should win an Oscar.....

I’d thank the collaborators who trusted me, the audience who gave the film their time, and the independent filmmakers who keep creating without permission. Stories survive because people refuse to stop telling them.