Finding Her Beat was simply meant to be a recorded version of a one-night concert in the US state of Minnesota dedicated to the ancient Japanese art of taiko drumming.
But after Jennifer Weir, the executive director of TaikoArts Midwest, had lunch with her long-time friend, filmmaker Dawn Mikkelson, a larger idea began to brew.
The result is a documentary feature film that has become the darling of the festival circuit, with sold-out screenings and a place on global streaming platforms including Amazon Prime Video.
At its heart is a story about taiko performers who converge on Minnesota in the months before the Covid-19 pandemic begins, to connect, network, practise and then mount a historic, sold-out taiko performance.
Many of those involved with the project, on screen and behind it, are Asian-American and from the LGBTQ community.
In the film, the drummers share how they were discouraged from learning the art because they were women. But the powerful “can-do” message of the film goes far beyond drumming.
Audience screams and cheers after breakneck Hong Kong ballet
Audience screams and cheers after breakneck Hong Kong ballet
“The response has been overwhelmingly positive,” says Mikkelson, the film’s co-director. “We’re finding that it’s much more of a universal story.
“Everyone has had that experience of feeling that they could not pursue something, or not do something the way they’ve always wanted.
“Now they can look at that and say, ‘This is something I’ve wanted my whole life and I’m just going to do it and not wait for permission any more.’”
Weir, who is of Korean descent, was adopted by a family in the US state of North Dakota. As a consequence, she says felt little connection with Asian culture until discovering taiko.
“It took a long time for women to be able to choose taiko as a path,” Weir says. “There are people in this film, pioneers of taiko, who have been told for half their lives that they shouldn’t be doing this.
“When I first saw taiko drumming, I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. Later in my relationship with it I learned more about the culture and the deep-rooted spiritual aspect of taiko drumming. It helped form who I wanted to be in the world.”
Weir’s wife, Megan Chao-Smith, is also a taiko expert and features in the film. She says she is still told “that I don’t have the stamina, or that I’m too feminine, or then that I’m not feminine enough” for taiko.
“I love being part of this group of human beings saying that none of that is true,” she adds.
Mikkelson enlisted Keri Pickett as her co-director on the project. The two of them travelled to Japan to bring some of the country’s top women taiko drummers – among them Kaoly Asano and Chieko Kojima – to a freezing Minnesota to join US performers such as Tiffany Tamaribuchi to prepare for the sold-out performance by 18 taiko drummers.
“When Dawn asked me to join in on this project, I could see the end of the film right away,” Pickett says.
“What was really a surprise was how all these amazing divas who run their own companies, when they got a chance to let their guard down, they showed their vulnerability.
“Not many filmmakers have an opportunity to see a transformation in such a beautiful, artful display, and work on such a passion-based story.”
But the intensive two-week rehearsal schedule had its pitfalls.
“It was insane,” Chao-Smith says. “Two different languages, two different cultures, strong artistic visions, strong movement decisions…
“For some of these performers, it’s taken 40 years for them to finally show their masterpiece, so how do you choose? It was a constant, giant diva mosh pit.”
The movie has helped boost the visibility of taiko. Many US cities now have centres dedicated to teaching the practice and there was a taiko conference at Brown University in the state of Rhode Island in February, with another planned for Seattle in August.
Heavy metal meets orchestral sound in Bright & Black, with mixed results
Heavy metal meets orchestral sound in Bright & Black, with mixed results
“For this film, everyone believed in what we were doing,” Weir says. “Everyone was so wholly committed.
“Fortunately we had people like Megan and Tiffany who have bridged both worlds and could be the background superheroes, catching all these plates that were falling and crashing, and getting them back up and spinning again.
“You’re putting yourself out there in a constant state of almost-disasters until you get to the point of take-off.”
The film is just the beginning. Weir, who spent three years raising money to make the documentary, is now set on raising US$4 million to build an international taiko centre in Minnesota.
In the meantime, Weir, Chao-Smith and their international band of taiko experts want to continue spreading the message.
“It puts you in your body in that moment,” Weir says. “Taiko is something that makes everyone’s lives better.”
