Irma

Irma is a story about how difficult it is to love the people that hurt us. I owe this film to my mother and grandmother's complex, painful, and love-filled relationship.
When I was seven years old, my grandmother tried to break into my home. She had schizophrenia, which often led to violent outbursts such as this. That night, my grandmother banged on our door endlessly, pleading and crying to be let inside. After her attempts to calm her failed, my mother called the police and they took my grandmother away. I remember feeling great relief then, but surprisingly, my mother felt complete devastation.
How could my mom feel empathy for someone who tried to harm us? What's it like to be in an emotional and sometimes even physical battle with your own mother? And what does it feel like to let go of the person that brought you into this world? I asked myself these questions while watching my mom wrestle with her emotions.
I wrote this film to find the answers. While I am very proud of this film as a director, Irma's biggest achievement is looking at my mom and finally being able to say, "I get it."