North Stars
An unfettered roundtable with CanCon’s queer mafia: Ally Pankiw, D. W. Waterson, Devery Jacobs, Mae Martin and Emma Seligman
The gilded doors of Hollywood seldom open, and they’re notorious for quickly slamming shut. Getting through them requires a mix of talent and timing, and the odds heavily favour the usual suspects (namely, straight white dudes). But every now and then, a cohort of filmmakers hell-bent on changing the rules squeaks by. In recent years, five Torontonians have formed the vanguard of a new Hollywood with hit projects that include Feel Good, Reservation Dogs and Bottoms. Their work is honest, poignant and did-they-really-just-do-that funny, flipping the script on how queer, non-white and non-male characters get to behave. Ahead of TIFF, we sat down with Mae Martin
You’ve all been catapulted to a new level of fame in recent years. How have your lives changed?
Ally Pankiw: I can get away with being bolder and more honest. I’m not scared to get in a fight with the execs at Universal TV or wherever about who I want to hire or my morals, because I have a body of work and people know I’m not a monster to work with.
Mae Martin: Feel Good came out during the pandemic, so it wasn’t until I moved to LA in 2022 that I really started to notice a change. I do a lot of live comedy shows, and you get an immediate barometer reading—the energy was different. People who weren’t necessarily stand-up fans were buying tickets. I’m not even sure they wanted to see me do stand-up. They wanted more confessional and personal stuff, which I love.
Related: The creator and star of the queer Netflix dramedy Feel Good has a glut of new projects on the way
Devery Jacobs: It’s weird because for me, in a way, nothing feels different. Even after the success of Reservation Dogs and working on Marvel projects, I have to remind myself that the whirlwind of the past five years really did happen. Some of it is very tangible—I was a starving artist, and now I look around my home and think, Okay, yes, I earn money. But, in terms of the industry at large, I don’t feel like folks are embracing queer Native characters more than they were before.
D. W. Waterson: I definitely have more access—it’s easier to get meetings with people I respect and think are cool. Some people even reach out to me.
Emma Seligman: I didn’t really have a career before writing and directing Shiva Baby, which I wasn’t paid to make. So it’s been like night and day. I went from making a movie with my college friends for no money to making Bottoms with those same friends but with a lot more resources.Seligman met Rachel Sennott and Ayo Edebiri, the stars of Bottoms, while attending NYU. (Sennott also starred in Shiva Baby.) While Shiva Baby was made on a shoestring for $200,000, Bottoms had a chunky studio-backed budget of $11 million. Getting paid is awesome, but these days there are a million people with opinions in my ear. In a way, it’s now harder to cut through the noise and figure out what I really want to do next.
Related: Emma Seligman on her new teen sex comedy, Bottoms
So the money is great, but everything else is a mixed bag?
Pankiw: It’s worth noting that the money isn’t even consistent. Statistically, there’s a bigger hill to climb when you’re queer or a woman or a person of colour. You don’t get a thousand offers for what your next project is going to be.
Seligman: Yeah, there’s a lot of, “We want to do your next thing! Whatever you want to do!” But I think people sometimes just want to cross “tokenized director” off their to-do list, and they don’t actually want to give you free rein. You still have to push.
Jacobs: One really positive change has been meeting you all. I don’t feel like I’m on an island anymore. When you start going to awards shows, it’s a bunch of people who all know each other, and it can feel overwhelming and disorienting. Having you feels like a buoy. If ever I’m having issues, I can call one of you up.
Help me fill in the blanks of my Canadian film industry L Word chart. How did everyone first meet?
Pankiw: Mae and I met almost 20 years ago through a mutual friend.
Martin: You were very newly out back then. We were basically obsessed with each other.
Pankiw: I had just moved to Toronto from middle-of-nowhere Alberta.Pankiw grew up north of Edmonton in St. Albert, population 70,000. Thankfully, Mae introduced me to all these amazing people. And then I met D. W. and Devery at some event—Canadians in LA or something—and we launched right into bitching about how hard it is to make a film in Canada.
Seligman: Ally and I met after she shot I Used to Be Funny, at one of Rachel Sennott’s comedy shows in LA, and we bonded over a similar conversation about how hard it is to make a movie in Canada and get people to see it. When Ally and Mae threw a Canada Day party, that’s when I met Mae.
Related: Ally Pankiw on her new dramedy, I Used to Be Funny
Martin: Right, at my house!
Seligman: There’s sort of a Canadian queer mafia situation in LA, so that’s how I ended up there. And then Devery, I met you at the Film Independent Spirit Awards in 2022, and it was so lovely because I didn’t realize you were Canadian. When you told me you lived in Toronto with your partner, D. W., and made movies there, I was like, “Wait, seriously? That’s so beautiful.” Then as soon as I was home for Christmas, I asked you two out for coffee.
“Overnight success” is a term often used for artists who seemingly came out of nowhere—even when they’ve been working hard for years. How do you dispel the myth that you’re new to the game?
Pankiw: By showing my first bad music videoAfter graduating with a degree in broadcast journalism from TMU, Pankiw directed music videos for artists such as Ariana Grande, Iggy Azalea, Janelle Monáe and Arkells. from 10 years ago.
Martin: In 2023, I got the Rising Comedy Star Award at Just for Laughs. It was a great honour, but it was funny because I’d been doing comedy for 25 years. Maybe it’s because I have a certain vulnerability about me, but sometimes after stand-up shows people come up to reassure me and say,“Keep doing it!” And I’m like, “Oh, yeah, I will. I mean, I have been!”
Was there ever a moment along the way when you thought, This career is never going to happen for me?
Martin: I started doing comedy when I was 13Martin enrolled in classes at Second City, and by the time they were 15, they were performing several nights a week in clubs across Toronto. In 2019, Netflix released their stand-up special Dope; Sap followed in 2023. and initially got a lot of buzz because I was bizarrely young. When I wasn’t the youngest person on the bill anymore, I was like, Oh boy, I’m gonna have to start writing good jokes. When I moved to the UK, I had to start over, and that was scary. Then there was my first Edinburgh Fringe in 2011. I was super broke, so I posted on Facebook offering $20 massages to other comedians. A few people took me up on it.
Pankiw: On I Used to Be Funny, the financing didn’t come together until the day we started shooting, basically. I was so embarrassed. But, as you get into bigger and bigger rooms, you learn that every film that’s ever been made has almost fallen apart at some point.
Jacobs: We’re not immune to industry myths, like If only I had a bigger budget or If only I got to work with so-and-so, all my problems would be solved. But, having worked on some really big productions,Jacobs had a recurring role on the Marvel superhero series Echo, which had a mainly Indigenous cast. She also voiced a Mohawk character in an episode of the company’s animated series What If? I’ve learned they have some of the same issues as micro-budget indies. It’s a trip. This industry will kick your ass. When I was younger, I pinned all my self-worth on whether I was working. It was incredibly unhealthy. There was a point where my dad discouraged me from pursuing this line of work because I was so depressed all the time. Thank god I’ve since gone to therapy.
Pankiw: But, even when it’s hard, I still feel so grateful. I think back to myself as a teenager in rural Alberta—that girl would emerge from the cornfield in my backyard and strangle me if she heard me complaining about my job.
Seligman: It’s funny talking about this here, because this is what we all talk about when we get on the phone.
Pankiw: The number of times I’ve found all of you at some industry event to have this exact conversation.
Seligman: I would have liked to grow up hearing directors say, “I’m tired. I had a nervous breakdown.” It wasn’t until I was on sets and telling other directors that I felt crazy that they were like, “Yes, welcome.” It’s good for younger filmmakers to know what they’re getting into. It’s the best job in the world—and it’s got the highest highs and very low lows.
Speaking of high highs, tell me about one.
Waterson: Being on set is my happy place. When I was directing Backspot,The film was executive-produced by Elliot Page; stars Westworld’s Evan Rachel Wood as Eileen, the squad’s bristly, enigmatic coach; and features real-life cheerleaders alongside Jacobs (a former competitive gymnast who did almost all her own stunts). seeing all the choreography come together, cheerleaders being lifted and thrown into the air, and then having Evan Rachel Wood standing there yelling at them—I do all the other hard things for those moments.
Related: Devery Jacobs and D. W. Waterson on their new cheerleading film, Backspot
Pankiw: I love it when I’m working with an actor I would have seen in a magazine when I was younger, like Lisa Kudrow or Salma Hayek,Pankiw directed Kudrow as Martin’s mother in Feel Good and Hayek in “Joan Is Awful,” the mind-bending opening episode of Black Mirror’s sixth season. and I find myself laughing with them and creating something really cool. Those are the times when I think, Oh yeah, this is why I do what I do. Also any time I’m able to step out of my imposter syndrome and for a moment not feel like I’m faking it.
Martin: With Feel Good, I wanted to be involved in the score and the soundtrack. I got to sit with the composer, Charles Watson, who’s a great musician. Getting to be confident in my opinions and my musical taste empowered me to release my own music.Earlier this year, Martin released their debut as a singer-songwriter, the indie-folk album I’m a TV.
You all do some combination of producing, directing, showrunning, acting and writing. Was being your own boss always the goal?
Martin: Always. As an actor, I have a very specific look. Often there would be a lead character who was smart and funny and complicated, and I would be reading for the gay friend, who was... just gay. Or I could do a cowboy-ish butch. I’m not the most castable. You really have to want what I’m bringing. So in order to play a three-dimensional character, I had to write it myself.
Waterson: For me, it was definitely a necessity. It felt like there were a lot of people in Canada afraid to make the kind of stories I wanted to tell. So I was like, Am I going to wait around for someone to tell that story with me? Or am I just going to do it myself? It’s really producing as a way to be a director.
Are there days when you wish someone else would take the lead?
Seligman: No. There are times when I’d love a bit more support, but I think being in charge comes with the gig when you’re a director. You are the boss, no matter what.
Jacobs: D. W. and I immediately started nodding, but I think that’s because we’re both also producers. If it was about purely being a director or a writer or an actor and then someone else came in to do all of the producing, that would be exceptional. But, on Backspot, we didn’t really have a choice.
Waterson: Yeah, lead producing and directing is not something I would wish upon anyone.
Pankiw: Because you’re fighting against yourself. As a director you’re like, “I need the crane!” But, as a producer, you’re like, “You don’t need to pay for a crane.”
Seligman: Totally. Those roles are essentially designed to push against each other. But I love Backspot. It’s a masterpiece. It’s a little masochistic, perhaps, but keep doing what you gotta do.
Martin: I’m torn because it can feel like you’re hosting your own birthday party every day. Sometimes, before a big emotional scene, I want to sit down, ignore everyone for a bit and listen to music, but as a showrunner I also want to make sure the other actors are having fun and the crew is happy. That’s tricky. But I’m a control freak, so I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Many of your best-known projects have autobiographical elements. Does that make them easier or harder to execute?
Martin: It’s easier to get something made when you are an authority on the subject. Everyone says to write the story that only you could tell. Earlier on, I was pitching crazy sci-fi, like murder mysteries on Mars, and I’m so glad they didn’t get made. I wasn’t competent enough yet to pull that off. Starting off by writing from a deeply personal place gave me confidence.
Waterson: In some ways it’s easier because you know the content, you know the feeling you’re trying to pull out of a scene. But, later on, in the edit, it becomes harder. You’re showing your insides to people. And in this industry, those people write reviews and comments and come on to your social media to tell you what they think.
Seligman: Shiva Baby was a shortThe film began as Seligman’s senior thesis at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. before it was a feature, and when you start making features, things take longer. If the project is semi-autobiographical, you’re stuck with a version of yourself from five years ago. I didn’t even realize I’d been carrying this old version of me for so long, and the day the feature came out, I was grateful and relieved to let go. I was stuck in the past because of this movie. It’s obviously helpful if you understand your characters, but sometimes it can be a burden.
Pankiw: Any time you’re putting a piece of yourself into something, there’s always going to be moments of regret. Three years passed between the filming of I Used to Be Funny and when it came out in theatres. For some of that time, I was like, “I fucking hate this film. I don’t want it to come out,” because it’s really embarrassing to admit that something is important to you. That’s the mortifying ordeal of being known, right? But then it connects with one person or a couple of people and you’re reminded that the film is important to them too. That’s well worth the embarrassment.
Jacobs: I think every project becomes its own thing. Even if it’s autobiographical, it still becomes this separate entity that’s influenced by actors and location and other things. Unless you have an unlimited amount of money, I don’t think you can make something exactly as it was in your brain. Maybe if you’re in animation.
Your projects focus on the experiences of queer folks, Indigenous people, women—characters that historically haven’t gotten a ton of quality screen time. Does that add a lot of pressure?
Jacobs: Pointing a camera at a specific group of people is a way of affirming that they matter. But, yes, being positioned as a spokesperson is challenging. Cis, straight, white filmmakers aren’t asked to speak on the status of hetero male cinema. There’s a lot of pressure. There’s a responsibility and a weight to the role I have. That’s something I’m happy to assume, with the caveat that I can’t speak for all queer Indigenous folks. We’re all just people. We have to tell stories from our own perspectives.
Martin: I mean, I never finished high school. I’ve had to become fluent quickly, because I’m often asked to speak for a large community that’s really not a monolith. Pressure’s on, because at some point I’m going to put my foot in my mouth. I try to avoid situations that are outright combative. For example, I turn down invitations to go on the news and debate transphobes. I always try to defer to people who are more informed than I am.Last year, Martin hosted an episode of The Nature of Things called “Fluid: Life Beyond the Binary,” which explored the science of gender and sexual fluidity.
Waterson: When you’re on set, there’s always a rush: hurry up, make a choice. But representing different communities involves time and care. Often, people don’t want to do that. They see it as you slowing down the process. I always try to push back against that, but everything about the monster of movie-making is like, fast, fast, fast.Backspot was shot in a breakneck 17 days.
Seligman: I agree. I feel like the pressure, if it comes, is in the writing, because that’s when you have the time to deliberate. As soon as the ball gets rolling, it’s gone. I also feel the pressure when it comes to distribution. It’s one thing to say, “I’m going to write a gay movie” or “I’m going to write a young female story” or a Jewish story or whatever. But it’s a whole other thing to deliver it to that audience and get them excited about it. I mean, queers will always find their cult movies, but you don’t want to miss an opportunity to connect with other people who will really love the project.
Have you had any fan interactions that stand out?
Seligman: During Covid, I had the privilege of doing Zoom Q&As with just about every Jewish film festival and community centre across the country. Some of the most interesting conversations I had were with older Jewish women who told me that they watched Shiva Baby with their daughters or granddaughters and remembered all the pressure they’d felt as young women. That wasn’t something I expected. I wanted to reach young women, but I didn’t anticipate people reflecting on their young womanhood.
Martin: Once, I had someone come out to her dad in front of me after one of my stand-up shows. I was essentially the mediator. She was like, “I’m gay,” and then the dad goes, “I’m bisexual! Why do you think I have this earring?” It was a crazy moment.
Waterson: Devery and I were at a London screening of Backspot, and I was talking about how queer people from different generations interact. There was a row of four elderly queer women in the back. When one of them raised her hand, I thought, Oh man, I’m gonna get roasted. But she just said they were so glad we made this film, that it made them feel seen and that they were proud of us.
Jacobs: I cried!
Pankiw: I even feel that at my age. All the stuff that’s being made now, I think, Where the fuck was this when I was a teenager? If I’d seen these movies, I wouldn’t have had to have a boyfriend named Conrad, you know? We had to search for the smallest breadcrumbs. You know Foxfire with Angelina Jolie?Based on the Joyce Carol Oates book, the 1996 film follows a group of girls who rebel against a teacher who sexually harassed them. After being kicked out of school, they move into an abandoned house together. In my memory, she fully kissed one of her female friends. But I rewatched it recently and they literally only hug and look into each other’s eyes. I’d completely made that up.
Emma, you’ve talked about how you like writing “shitty” queer characters because they feel more true to life. Do the rest of you have a take on what good representation looks like?
Martin: There’s always a nervousness around having flawed queer characters who are selfish and behave badly. People want them to be heroic and overcome adversity. It’s still hard to find complex queer characters who aren’t purely defined by grappling with their sexuality or gender.
Pankiw: I think there has been so much bad queer representation by straight people that anything I’m doing is automatically going to be at least 50 per cent better than most of what’s out there.
Waterson: You need to have people who represent your audience in the room during the distribution and marketing phase. It’s not cookie cutter. You can’t just slap a marketing plan that’s worked for a coming-of-age film or an action movie onto a film that’s made for a different audience.
Jacobs: Jennifer’s BodyWritten by Diablo Cody, the 2009 cult horror features a scene where Megan Fox’s character makes out with her nerdy friend, played by Amanda Seyfried. is such a good example of that. It was written by a bisexual woman, and it’s so bisexual, but I was hesitant to see it because I thought it was a movie for dudes. My hot take is that, if you have Native or queer characters but there aren’t Indigenous or queer filmmakers at the helm, it’s not actually a queer or Indigenous film.Jacobs lambasted Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon on Twitter in 2023. “Watching this movie was fucking hellfire,” she wrote. “When non-Native directors are given the liberty to tell our stories they center the white perspective.”
Ally, you’ve talked about how some men in the industry are threatened by young women who are funnier than them. How do you all handle those types of interactions?
Pankiw: You can see the shift on their faces when they realize that your joke hit harder than theirs. I love those moments.
Waterson: Those moments are fun until there’s a repercussion. When later on it’s like, “Oh, well, that thing you wanted? You’re not going to get that.” There’s often some sort of punishment.
Pankiw: The look in their eyes is worth it for me, personally.
Seligman: We had a page-turn meeting for Bottoms, and the person running it said, “Should we start with notes from him?” then pointed to the one male department head. And I responded, “Why the hell are you pointing at him? There’s like a million women around the room.” And his face just dropped. I was trying to keep it light, actually. I was like, “This is how we call people out. We make a joke.”
You mentioned earlier how hard it is to make a film in Canada. Most of you had to leave the countryPankiw and Martin filmed Feel Good in the UK, and Seligman and Jacobs broke out in the US with Shiva Baby and Reservation Dogs, respectively. to find success. What could Canada do better?
Pankiw: A lot of Canadian funding for films comes with restrictions that are meant to protect Canadian jobs. It’s in good faith, but it often prevents American companies from signing on to projects—even though they would love to take advantage of the talent here and they can bring a lot of additional funding and connections. The two countries are basically an extension of the same market, so we’re preventing co-productions that would benefit everyone.
Waterson: The unions also need to readjust their tiering systems. You get all these bonuses if you’re considered “indie,” but you have to have a budget that’s under $1 million. That’s insane. I cannot make a film with that amount of money. When American productions come to film up here, the unions try to get as much money out of them as possible, which is great.
Pankiw: They’re Marvel or Disney, and they have billions of dollars.
Waterson: Exactly. But those same restrictions are being applied to Canadian indie films, and it’s strangling us. Shouldn’t we be bending the rules as much as possible to provide leverage and support to local creators?
Jacobs: Canadian distributors also often use their resources to promote American movies instead of celebrating our own. That’s been the biggest complaint I’ve heard. Backspot was executive-produced by Elliot Page, and if we’d done that in the US, we would have gotten a lot more eyeballs.
Almost all of you recently filmed projects in Toronto. What about the city appeals?
Martin: Our crew had worked together on various other projects, so there was camaraderie and easy communication. I was blown away by everyone’s dedication and sense of humour and how they looked after our younger cast members. Compared with other sets I’ve been on, there was no ego. Everyone was up for collaborating, and the best idea always won.
Pankiw: As much as Canada has a lot of issues at the institutional level, it’s an amazing place to shoot. The crews in Toronto are exceptional, and the casting pool here is so exciting and underutilized. We have such great comedians—it was so fun to feature them in I Used to Be Funny.
Jacobs: There is such untapped talent here. It would be easy to move to New York or LA as an actor, and I’m often encouraged to do so. But it’s important to me to give back to the industry that helped shape me. I feel my best being in Haudenosaunee territory, and Toronto has been my home for nearly 10 years. I love our city, our chaotic seasons, the unbridled talent that comes out of here and the passion that folks in the Toronto film industry have.
Waterson: For me, there was no question of shooting anywhere but Toronto. I know all its crevices and secrets, which neighbourhood exudes this or that kind of feel, what restaurant will highlight my character’s taste. And having it so the crew can sleep in their own beds and be home with friends and family is priceless. Plus, actors coming into the city get to be in a place with incredible restaurants, top-tier live shows and street festivals. When your cast and crew are happy, you get a better product.
Being queer and trans in the US is getting more and more difficult. How has that affected your work and your lives?
Martin: I think people are more cautious. In my new project, Wayward,The thriller series, which premieres at this year’s TIFF, explores the dark realities of a boarding school for troubled teens. It stars Toni Collette, Sarah Gadon and Patrick J. Adams alongside Martin. my character is trans. There have been a lot of veiled conversations about testing audiences and how they’re responding to the trans content and whether we should make adjustments. Also, every time I cross the border now, the agents ask what I do. I say I’m a comedian, and one guy recently asked me if I joke about politics.
Pankiw: It feels so close and also so sci-fi far away. It’s surreal, but it’s also in our backyard.
Seligman: It’s not great. It’s definitely being felt in terms of the health care that’s available for queer and trans folks, even in New York.
Martin: I’ll be curious to see how that’s reflected in storytelling. The more trans rights and queer rights are in the news, the more even having a trans or queer character feels like a political statement—which it isn’t and shouldn’t be.
Pankiw: We are in that one-step-back piece of progress. For the past 10 or so years, everyone wanted diverse stories. But, in this new political climate, all I hear is, “Can we get the next show about white dudes set on a ranch?” We know people are cancelling their DEI initiatives. Progress always finds a way, but we’re in a reactionary moment in our industry. It’s a tale as old as time.
Waterson: And the ripple effects are being felt in Canada too. It’s the thing that’s not being said when you’re meeting with people. If something is unabashedly queer, suddenly their schedule is busy.
Let’s forget about reality for a moment, then. You wake up tomorrow and have funding for any project you want. What do you make?
Martin: I just watched the Matt Wolf documentary about Paul Reubens. Pee-wee Herman was just a weird thing that Reubens really believed in. He stuck to his guns, and his show was so amazing. So I feel inspired to do weird stuff and then be really bullheaded about it and try to tune out conversations about genre, demographics and algorithms. And I’d love to do something for kids.
Jacobs: This is so different from what I usually do, but I would want to be a producer of a reality TV show for queer Native kids, where they have to live on the land in the way their ancestors did. Any time I think about how my ancestors lived, I’m like, I would be so dead so fast. That is what I want to watch on television.
Pankiw: Honestly, if the CBC doesn’t make that tomorrow, they’re so fucking stupid. I would love to do a massive action-adventure epic, like Harry Potter before all the J.K.Rowling bullshit. I’m also a huge Marvel head. A lot of my work has been very grounded, so the idea of bursting out into a genre with no limitations feels really fun. And if Julianne Moore was in it, well, I wouldn’t be upset.
Waterson: Because I come from the music world,A drummer and DJ, Waterson directed and produced That’s My DJ, a 2014 web series about a group of promoters and DJs in Toronto. They’ve also directed music videos for Priyanka, Caveboy and others. with deejaying and touring and all that stuff, I would want to do a big blockbuster musical. Give me big musical numbers and all the background actors.
Seligman: Maybe it’s idealistic, but I’m writing my big dream project right now. I’m really trying to tune out the noise and believe that it’s going to happen. You have to be delusional. But, without giving too much away, I have been turning to queer history and hidden stories. I just learned about some famous gay pirates. It’s so clear that there should be a Pirates of the Caribbean but gay.
What’s everyone’s next project IRL?
Pankiw: I’ve spent the past couple of years directing the official Lilith Fair documentary,An exploration of the 1990s feminist music festival, the film features interviews with founder Sarah McLachlan as well as Bonnie Raitt, Sheryl Crow, Erykah Badu and Olivia Rodrigo. which has been such a thrill. It’ll be premiering at TIFF. And I’m in development for my next film, which will be a queer rom-com. We’ll shoot it late this year or early next.
Martin: I’m working on a second album, plus a movie I’m developing with Joe Hampson, who co-created Feel Good with me.
Jacobs: I just finished up the Directors Lab at Sundance, and I’m working on my debut feature as a writer and director. And I was recently part of a Christmas movie called Oh. What. Fun. with Michelle Pfeiffer and Chloë Grace Moretz, which comes out in December.
Seligman: I can’t say much, but I’m working on a few things. Both of them are not of this time period. And obviously gay.
Waterson: I also can’t say much, but I’m working on my second feature.
If the five of you were going to collaborate on a project, what would it be? Maybe a gay pirate musical?
Pankiw: Oh my god. Mae, you could be the Jack Sparrow character.
Seligman: We could each do a number.
Martin: Ally could choreograph some amazing dance routines.
Pankiw: I used to be a ballet dancer, so something with dance could be cool. Maybe we could all remake Center StageThe 2000 teen classic follows ballet dancers at a high-pressure, high-drama dance academy in New York..
Waterson: That’s it! That’s the answer.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
