I interviewed Daniella DeVinter, the filmmaker, writer and PhD student who is currently researching the German filmmaker Rainer Fassbinder, about her latest short film Unwell Woman. Set in 1970s Cambridge, the film examines how medical discourse has historically been used to subjugate women, and the lengths they’ve had to go to in order to fight back against it.

Dark academia is at the heart of Unwell Woman, with its gothic atmosphere and academic setting. However, I also noticed that the film’s humourous edge, which delighted the audience at the Newnham Arts Society screening, gives the film a slightly campy edge. How did you balance dark academia with humour, and what is your take on the dark academia trend, or the romanticisation of academia in general?

I love that it made a roomful of students laugh! For me, the university setting felt more salient than the ‘dark academia’ trend – that label only came about at the very end of post-production when we had to cook up a catchy logline. The academy is an inherently dark space, I think, steeped in histories of exclusion and oppression, and dark academia as a genre tends to romanticise it all. But I wanted to make a film that unsettles, that really gets under your skin.

“I wanted to make a film that unsettles, that really gets under your skin”

Balancing the darkness with a streak of camp was crucial to capturing the absurdities of student life, with all its rituals and hierarchies. I think those moments of levity also highlight the resilience and wit of women navigating these male-dominated spaces. It seems counterintuitive, but I think humour can be such a great tool for getting an audience on board when you’re tackling dark and difficult subjects; without a few lifts of comic relief, the doom and gloom of Unwell Woman would be unbearable to watch!

How has your experience as a neurodivergent woman with hidden disabilities at Oxbridge shaped Unwell Woman, and influenced how you navigate the creative industry and academia?

Unwell Woman wouldn’t exist without the weird ways my brain works, for starters! I have a kind of mental Rolodex containing everything I’ve read or seen or experienced. Writing the film felt like rifling through this database, and now I realise how much my personal experiences shaped the story.

I’ve faced bodily symptoms getting dismissed by doctors as being ‘all in my head,’ which just felt like a resurrected version of the old hysteria diagnosis. This dark film, I think, conveys a sense of being kept in the dark about my own body. I’ve since been diagnosed with ME (chronic fatigue syndrome) and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, a genetic disorder, and my recent autism diagnosis has also helped me understand that this is how I’m neurologically wired. You can’t think your way into it or out of it.

“This dark film, I think, conveys a sense of being kept in the dark about my own body”

Academia’s rigid style of argumentation doesn’t match my brain’s operating system. So now, rather than corralling it into conventional modes of scholarly writing, I embrace my neurodivergence as a creative tool. My diagnoses have reshaped my view of disability, too, and as far as the film industry’s concerned, it’s hugely important to advocate for more inclusive practices, like reasonable working hours or moving pre- and post-production meetings online. But there’s still so much to be done.

Your film reminds me of Witches (2024, dir. Elizabeth Sankey), now on MUBI, a documentary on postpartum depression and the pressures of motherhood, such as becoming a ‘perfect mother’. Have you seen it?

I have. I think Witches is doing really important work in normalising discussions around the ‘monstrous’ unmaternal emotions which women feel the need to suppress.

My film isn’t a documentary. Instead, it’s using the apparatus of the horror genre to trace back the roots of madness not just to patriarchal pressures, but to medical discourse itself… .

Unwell Woman was made without a budget. While this can be challenging, were there any unexpected positives?

Necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t turn my nose up at commissioned projects — we’ve all got bills to pay — but low-budget work offers more elbow room for creativity. You don’t have the pressure of catering to the taste of millions.

We shot Unwell Woman in five nights at Jesus College library, sticking to a strict shot list, and, funnily enough, the first take often captured the rawest emotional energy, even when we had time for retakes.

I think there’s a Goldilocks zone between ultra-low budgets and unlimited financial freedom. I honestly wouldn’t know where to start with a blockbuster flick and a bottomless pot of money. Having the licence to choose any location, any special effect you want – that’s terrifying! A bigger budget might have made Unwell Woman a better film, but it would also be a very different film, because the challenges of working within constraints pushed me to solve problems in a uniquely creative way. I hope aspiring filmmakers see it’s not about what you don’t have, but doing what you can with what you do. This applies to academic work, too!