With Salamander Days, her debut feature, Rebekah Sherman-Myntti arrived as a filmmaker attuned to the subtleties and sensitivities that make stories feel lived. Set in an American high school – Sherman-Myntti’s actual school – in the shadow of a student’s passing, the film centres on a group of students grappling with grief amidst the familiar rituals and ruptures of coming-of- age. Filmed with intuitive naturalism, shots carry you with them, mirroring the curiosity and quiet volatility of adolescence – “the camera is almost always in motion… it’s as if it’s trying to understand the characters from the inside out.” Sherman-Myntti is also the founder of The Downtown Festival in her home of New York City, a growing platform for emerging and established independent artists who, like her, believe in the power of great stories – told through emotion and risk.

Alex James Taylor: Can you take me back to the first film that made a lasting impact on you, or a moment when you discovered film and moving image?
Rebekah Sherman-Myntti: Growing up I would go to the library and rent six VHS tapes every Friday and I would watch and rewatch those films all week. In terms of impact, one of the first films that truly left a lasting influence on me was Jean-Luc Godard’s À bout de souffle. I remember feeling something shift when I watched it at thirteen or fourteen years old. Like “Oh, this is what a movie can be.” The rebellious nature of the characters and the way it was shot and edited felt radical and unlike anything I had seen before. It really opened up a new dimension for me.

AJT: Then how did these early fascinations evolve into you establishing yourself as a filmmaker?
RSM: From childhood, my path toward filmmaking unfolded slowly but had a certain inevitability. Even before I picked up a camera, I was already fixated on the idea of filmmaking itself, and I knew I wanted to make films. When I finally began experimenting with making short films in school, I naturally gravitated toward more unconventional storytelling. Later, when I was twenty, I moved to Paris and studied at a small film school, immersing myself in filmmaking, French cinema, and the language. Through a series of bizarre and unexpected events, I ended up spending a day with Agnès Varda, watching her edit.

AJT: Oh wow, that must’ve been a special experience.
RSM: Observing her work and listening to her think through a scene felt like witnessing the purest form of artistic intuition. She approached filmmaking with such wonder and openness. It was profoundly inspiring, and it deeply transformed my understanding of the art form. It linked those early teenage impressions to a more expansive sense of possibility. Over the years, I’ve taken on many different roles – directing, producing, editing, and occasionally working as a DP – and each one has revealed a different facet of filmmaking. Seeing the process from so many angles has deepened my understanding of collaboration and how a production truly comes together. As I’ve grown older, I’ve also become more attuned to how incredibly short life is, which only reinforces how essential it is to make time and space for what you’re passionate about. The industry is risk-averse and nudges you towards conventional stories and themes with proven commercial viability, but the most impactful work comes from those who stubbornly follow their own vision, and so you have to trust yourself – and you certainly can’t wait for permission. In many ways, I’m still guided by the same impulses I had as a kid: experimentation, inclusivity, and a desire to explore life through filmmaking.

“I really believe that if you’re too rigid, you run the risk of missing moments that can give a film its soul.”

AJT: Let’s talk about Salamander Days. Congratulations on the film, it did so well. What were the origins of the story and the ideas driving it?
RSM: Thanks so much. I co-directed Salamander Days with KJ Rothweiler, and looking back it carries a sense of purity, and of course a touch of naivety as well. It’s often the case that making a first film in your twenties can push you to look back and really examine moments that shaped you. For us, that meant returning to the intensity of adolescence. The teenage years are so charged, full of questioning, introspection, and the constant effort to understand yourself and others. Everything feels heightened in that period, and so much is being absorbed at once. I’ve always been drawn to memory and how our minds place together fragments of experience into something emotionally true – even when it isn’t entirely logical. The film explores the inner worlds of students as they experience friendship, loss, and grief. Making Salamander Days allowed us not only to delve into those themes but also to learn about ourselves as filmmakers. We had complete freedom to experiment from the production to the edit, and the film reflects that.

AJT: That coming-of-age time period is so cinematic and evocative, can you take me through any works that became references for you?
RSM: There were a few films we kept returning to before we shot Salamander Days. Frederick Wiseman’s High School was a big one. Its observational style, the way it captures the subtleties of adolescence without imposing narrative or judgment, was hugely influential. And Olivier Assayas’s Cold Water has this particular restless energy that feels so true to being young. I love the emotional volatility of that film and the sense of drifting and searching. I was also reading a lot of Marguerite Duras at the time. Her writing has this elliptical, intimate quality as she often approaches memory and emotion in fragments and repetitions. That sensibility might have seeped into the film in a small way – the idea that you can evoke a feeling without spelling it out, that atmosphere and interiority can carry just as much weight as plot or dialogue. We didn’t really have references in a literal sense, but those works likely shaped the tone we were reaching for, something impressionistic, slightly untethered, emotional. We really wanted the film to breathe in a more abstract, intuitive way.

AJT: And in terms of the visual language of the film, what did you want to portray and how did you shape the film’s look and texture?
RSM: The visual language is very much shaped by the emotional world of adolescence. We wanted the film to feel like a moving memory, so the camera is almost always in motion. It’s less about showing adolescence and more about inhabiting the sensation of it. We used a lot of natural light and lived-in settings as we were shooting at my school, and I actually convinced students and my old teachers to act in the film. As a result, there are certain portions of the film that naturally have a documentary quality, and others that are more dreamlike in feeling. Watching Salamander Days years later I’ve felt that when the camera hovers close, it’s as if it’s trying to understand the characters from the inside out.

“There’s something super exciting about artists who aren’t trying to replicate what already exists but instead are building their own language.”

AJT: As your feature-length debut, what was the experience of making it, and what did you learn through the process?
RSM: It was incredibly challenging, and also formative. It was a long road and in that span of time so much life happened – artistically and personally. Completing the film became its own kind of education. During the entire process, I was constantly learning in real time, discovering my instincts as a director, and continuing to find and hone my individual sensibility. We had an unusual amount of freedom to experiment with as no one was telling us what the film should be, or how it needed to function. That level of openness is incredibly rare, and I feel very lucky to have had that experience. With that freedom came a kind of youthful naivety and a sort of purity – we weren’t thinking strategically, chasing an outcome, or shaping the film for any particular purpose other than to follow what felt true. What I learned most was who I was becoming as a filmmaker and how I like to work and collaborate.

AJT: You’re also the founder and director of The Downtown Festival. How do you view the independent film landscape in New York right now? How does it speak to the city’s film heritage and to today’s emerging generation?
RSM: New York has always had this incredible lineage of independent filmmaking with artists making work on their own terms, often with very little resources, but with a unique kind of energy and grit and originality. Historically, New York’s downtown brought together film, music, and art into a restless, pulsating ecosystem defined by defiant independence, but also by real community with lots of cross-disciplinary collaboration. I think the landscape today feels both fragile and full of possibility. On the one hand, resources are limited, the film industry continues to consolidate and become increasingly risk-averse, and the pressures of living in New York can be overwhelming. But there’s also this new generation of filmmakers who are incredibly resourceful and bold. They’re not waiting for permission. They’re building their own networks, finding inventive ways to make and show their work, and redefining what independent cinema can be. That spirit is a huge part of why I started The Downtown Festival. I wanted to create a space that honours the city’s unique heritage and artistic community while nurturing the filmmakers, musicians, and artists who are carrying that energy forward. What excites me most is the sense of community forming around the Festival. There’s a real hunger for connection and collaboration right now. In many ways, the emerging generation is reconnecting with the city’s roots – that special DIY ethos – but they’re doing it in a way that feels entirely their own. That adaptability is what continuously keeps New York’s independent film scene vibrant. It has an ability to evolve, to reinvent itself, and to continually reimagine what’s possible.

AJT: What draws you to specific filmmakers and stories?
RSM: I’m drawn to filmmakers who resist the mould, who take risks, and who expand the emotional and aesthetic possibilities of independent film. I’m seeking stories that feel alive and rooted in the filmmaker’s individuality. There’s something super exciting about artists who aren’t trying to replicate what already exists but instead are building their own language. I’m interested in people who are pushing the form, who are willing to make bold choices, who have something urgent to say and are unafraid of saying it – even if that might make some people uncomfortable. I want to work with filmmakers who are interrogating the world rather than smoothing it over.

AJT: Risk in filmmaking always shines through. What are you working on next?
RSM: I’m currently developing my solo directorial debut, which is a very personal film for me. I’m also continuing to produce work by artists I believe in, and I’m preparing for The Downtown Festival 2026, which will be our biggest year yet. A few other exciting things are in the works, but I’ll get in trouble if I talk about them!

photography DON BRODIE; fashion SAM KNOLL; hair RACHEL POLYCARPE at FORWARD ARTISTS; make-up ANDREW D’ANGELO; photography assistants JOHN MANUEL GOMEZ, IAN O’HARA; fashion assistant TYLER DELBAUGH