Papertown

About three years ago, a small crew of local filmmakers and I began documenting a seismic moment in the life of Canton, NC—when the beloved paper mill that shaped the town for nearly 120 years suddenly announced its closure. 

Our producer, Chris Pruett, lives in Canton and his “papaw” worked in the mill for most of his life. We had an immediate connection to the town and mill workers. We started with an interview at Chris’ neighbor’s house, Nancy Boydston, interviewing her son, Matt, in his dad’s tool shed. I was in awe of this giant man and his quick wit and thick Appalachian accent. We laughed our asses off and also cried during his interview. I knew this was something really special.

We set out documenting the experience of the workers and the community just days after they found out the mill was closing. Third and fourth generation mill workers would be losing their jobs in just three months, and with it, a big piece of their identity and communal bond. 

This was happening just down the road from me but it felt so foreign and removed from my world. It also felt important, not just for Canton but for all of us. 

I think that’s why the story turned up on the front page of The New York Times last summer: “A Mill Town Lost Its Mill. What Is It Now?” From Times writer Emma Goldberg’s piece, ”60,000 manufacturing hubs have been wiped off America’s map since the late 1990’s. For every 100 factory jobs lost in a community, 744 other jobs disappear.”

We threw ourselves into this story—showing up day after day (unpaid), fueled by a shared belief that this chapter in Appalachian history mattered. It was our community of local filmmakers meeting with and documenting the community of Canton and their struggle to comprehend what was happening, and they approached it with a particular kind of humor and resilience found only in this corner of the world.

Sometimes stories like this only get told in this way. We couldn’t wait for funding, for our day rates and gear rentals. 
We just had to do it, showing up with our cameras and documenting because stories like this need to be told and so often go unseen. There’s no well-known figure, no hook in pop culture, no scintillating issue of the day. It’s just small-town life in an overlooked area, often avoided and disdained because of the stinky mill, but it’s teeming with life and amazing people, each with their own struggles and joys and offerings for the rest of us to take in and learn from.

Ultimately, this film isn’t about the mill or its closing. It’s a story about the people and community of a Southern Appalachian town named Canton, NC, and I can’t wait to introduce the world to characters like Matthew Boydston, Roger Frady, Gail Mull, Zeb Smathers, Jonathan Lovelace, and so many more. This is a human story of resiliency, the meaning and dignity of workers and good paying jobs, and the power of community and neighborliness, and the importance of home.

This film is also a beautiful tribute to independent filmmaking at a time when it is so damn hard to make a film that doesn’t check all (or any) of the boxes that will get attention and funding. We had to sacrifice and push through so many obstacles to get this done. With $150,000 from three grants (Catapult Film Fund, Ford Foundation, and Foundation for the Carolinas) over the last three years, we’ve come so far. I hope you enjoy the film!

Warmly,
Jeremy