BAFTA Winner Ruth Pickett on “Ridiculousness and Pain”

Director Ruth Pickett has just taken home a TV BAFTA for ‘Quiet Life’. A whimsical, semi-silent comedy about a man who buries his phone and shuns the modern world. It's a surreal, touching portrait of loneliness and rebellion – and a defining breakout moment in Ruth’s long career in commercials and TV.

Drawing on silent-era influences like Jacques Tati and Charlie Chaplin, ‘Quiet Life’ embodies the kind of visual storytelling Ruth champions: “If you’re only telling the jokes via dialogue… you’re missing out on a whole spectrum of the storytelling palette,” she says.

That sensibility – equal parts absurd and heartfelt – runs through all her work, from ‘Ladhood’ to spots for huge brands like Waitrose and Jameson. “The world is in equal parts awe-inspiring, beautiful, deeply painful and absolutely ridiculous,” she says. “I’m drawn to stories that navigate that line.”

With her BAFTA win and several TV and feature projects in development – including a zombie comedy and a queer 16th-century musical – Ruth is poised for her next big leap. “I hope this allows me to make work that feels more intrinsically ‘me’,” she says. “With flair, heart and humour.” Today, LBB’s Zoe Antonov catches up with Ruth about her work, the industry, and beyond.

LBB> In terms of the work, let’s start with ‘Quiet Life’ – it’s such a whimsical piece. Where did the idea come from, and how did you land on the semi-silent format?

Ruth> Our writers Luke Rollason and Alex Bruce came up with that idea, and the inspiration came from Luke’s work as a performer. He’s trained in clowning, which has its roots in the work of the great silent comedy filmmakers like Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and Jacques Tati. There’s such phenomenal visual and physical imagination and inventiveness in their films – they’re chock-full of physical gags, unexpected reveals, and imaginative circumstances. There’s also a slightly knowing sensibility – a subtle self-awareness which makes the films feel like they know they’re telling a story.

Directorially, I’m drawn to visually stylised work – I’m inspired by directors like Bong Joon Ho, Stanley Kubrick, Edgar Wright, where the visuals are not just a means to convey the dialogue, but an intrinsic part of the storytelling. This type of visual storytelling is a pretty common approach in film, but slightly less so in TV, particularly in comedy. But I love it when visual inventiveness and imagination are an intrinsic part of the storytelling. If you’re only telling the story (and the jokes) via the dialogue, rather than also using the framing, blocking, camera movement, lighting, and sound design – you’re missing out on a whole spectrum of the storytelling palette.

Whilst there is a whimsical tone to ‘Quiet Life’, I hope it also feels grounded in truth. Ultimately, it’s a story about a man trying to cope with heartbreak and rejection, and trying to escape from the pressures and expectations of a hyper-connected world. At the same time, it’s about a man who has a pet chicken instead of an alarm clock, sticks crisps to his face as a means of flirting, and may or may not be being pursued by a possibly imaginary chef called Luigi. My hope is that it can be all of those things.

LBB> Drawing these parallels is vital, because you’ve always been described as walking that line between the absurd and the emotional truth you speak of. What draws you to that balance? How do you know you’re doing it right?

Ruth> I think it’s the way I see the world. For me, the world is in equal parts awe-inspiring, beautiful, deeply painful and absolutely ridiculous. I am drawn to stories and characters which navigate that line, but which might express their heartfelt story in a way which has an offbeat sense of wonder, humour and imagination. For example, I love Bong Joon Ho’s work. It’s got a seam of dark humour threaded through it, as well as a sense of both the ridiculousness and the pain of the human condition.

One of my favourite films of recent years is ‘Everything Everywhere All at Once’ – which at its core, is about a mother trying to come to terms with her life choices and navigate her relationship with her daughter. But it’s also this utterly brilliant existential romp where people are fighting each other with butt plugs and the centre of the universe is a bagel. It’s so silly and profound and beautiful and hilarious all at the same time.

LBB> You began in front of the camera – writing and performing comedy, even doing finger puppet epics. What made you shift into directing, and how has your performer past shaped you behind the lens?

Ruth> My way into the industry being via writing and performing was mainly because that was the only avenue I was aware of. I grew up in a village in Yorkshire and didn’t have any family in the industry, so I didn’t really know what other roles involved. I thought a director was a man in a baseball cap who pointed at things. As a kid, my favourite shows and films were always comedies – and I saw writer-performers creating their own hilarious, authored projects and it made me think ‘that’s what I want to do’. But that desire wasn’t about wanting to be in the limelight – it was about wanting to create characters, a world, and a story.

I ended up getting into directing slightly by accident: I’d written a feature film script which got into development with Film London, and the producers and I were trying to find a female director who specialised in comedy. This made me realise how few of us there are (although it’s slowly getting better) – and made me consider whether I might want to direct myself. I decided to give it a bash, so I taught myself by watching a lot of YouTube videos, going to a few evening classes, and then crowdfunded and made a bunch of low-budget short films. I learnt by doing it.

And as soon as I started directing, I just completely fell in love with it. It’s where I feel most at home – and I found I no longer had any desire to be in front of the camera. That feeling of creating something – of working together with your team to craft something which didn’t exist before – it's the best.

Part of me wishes I’d realised sooner and gone to film school. But at the same time, I think my performing background is incredibly useful – it gives me insight into how actors work and think and how I can be most helpful to them and their performance. I’m not one of those directors who hides in a corner behind their monitor and only talks to the actors via the AD – I see them as a vital part of the collaborative process. A great script and great performers are ultimately all you really need.

LBB> As someone who’s built work across web series, BBC comedy, Emmy-nominated shorts, and branded films, how do you approach tone and storytelling differently (or similarly) across mediums?

Ruth> I think there can be this perception, across all mediums, that somehow it’s a totally different skill directing a film, TV, or commercials. But ultimately, it’s all filmmaking. Sure, some of the expectations, hierarchies and ways of working are different – but the actual creative process is pretty much the same.

I also think, particularly at a time when budgets seem to be getting tighter, fear can creep in, in a way that can become restrictive to creativity and to a thriving industry. There can be a worry that if a director hasn’t done the exact same thing before, they might be a risk. But actually, a new way of thinking about something can be a superpower. Plus, you’re not guaranteed to get a brilliant result just because someone’s done it before – you might just get a predictable result. And predictable doesn’t necessarily mean brilliant. Most people or projects that really make a splash do so because someone believed in something or someone that felt a little bit different. Personally, I think taking a chance on a person or idea you believe in is the only way to create truly great work.

LBB> You’ve done standout commercial work for brands like Waitrose and Jameson, even directing second unit for Taika Waititi and Bryan Buckley. How has working with those directors informed or expanded your own approach?

Ruth> It’s such a privilege and an incredible learning experience to be able to witness how titans in the industry like Taika and Bryan work. You learn so much just from being on set with them and it’s something I’d love to do more of.

Taika is one of my filmmaking heroes and Bryan is a legend – he’s been so generous with his time and his support of me and my career, in a way that I will be eternally grateful for.

And it’s meant that I’ve been able to do things I might not have otherwise, like CGI shots with a giant technocrane, meeting legendary DoP Hoyte Van Hoytema, doing ADR with Michael Bublé, or wearing a fetching disposable jumpsuit on a pig farm in Norfolk. You also learn, from observing other directors, that there is no one way to be a director – everyone has their own approach and style, and that’s part of the magic. It’s about embracing who you are and what you bring to the table.

LBB> You’re part of Hungry Man and collectives like Cinesisters – how have those communities supported you as a woman in an industry still catching up on equity behind the camera?

Ruth> Hungry Man have been amazing. Breaking into the commercial industry as someone who’s newer in that space can be a challenge – and right from the get-go, Hungry Man believed in and championed me and have been working tirelessly to find me work and opportunities and connect me with like-minded creatives at agencies.

Likewise, collectives like Cinesisters are proof that female directors exist – there are almost 150 of us now and the entry criteria is that you have to have made at least three shorts as well as having had a feature or TV project in funded development, so none of us are entry-level. It’s also great to have a peer network who can support and champion one another, chat about the challenges, and celebrate the wins.

LBB> Speaking of female directors, comedy can still feel like a boys’ club. What kinds of challenges have you faced, and what change would you most like to see?

Ruth> Oh boy. I could do a whole interview just about this subject. I’ll start with the good: the industry has seen a lot of really positive change in the last ten years or so. There are lots of brilliant women coming through on the side of performance, production and direction.

But I have to be honest, it’s still bad. The old boys’ network still exists, the comedy industry is still predominantly run by men and some of them still seem to feel more comfortable giving opportunities – particularly directing – to other men. Ethnic diversity is an issue too: female directors and directors of colour are out there, but white men still make up the vast majority of the directors who are actually given the jobs.

The most blatant sexism I experienced was at university. I was part of the Cambridge Footlights, where the idea that ‘women aren’t funny’ was just something people would talk about as though it was a legitimate topic of conversation. And whilst there were some lovely, talented people who were part of it, as a culture it still felt like a cliquey boys’ club. The MeToo movement did a lot to shift the dial and make it possible for us to start having more honest conversations about sexism – but change is still slow.

The main issue for me is unconscious bias. I talk to other female directors and anecdotally, we all feel like we are often not perceived in quite the same way male directors are – trusted slightly less, given less ‘benefit of the doubt’. As a result, we feel sometimes we’re rejected for jobs for reasons which have very little to do with our skills or ability. Another female director recently told me the rejection feedback she got on a TV directing job was that she seemed “too confident.”

Across all mediums – film, TV and commercials – the higher the budget, the less likely it is to have a female director. There was that statistic Cate Blanchett cited at Cannes – that only 82 female directors had walked up the steps at the festival compared to 1645 male directors. I also did some research recently and I found that in UK scripted television comedy and comedy-drama, 74% of series broadcast in the last three years were directed by white men. At the BBC it was 82%. And don’t get me wrong – I love the BBC, there are some brilliant people working there and they are such a vital part of the UK creative economy; but I also think more could be done in the industry as a whole to address gender equality, particularly in directing.

There are more and more brilliant female directors making their way through and I’m determined to be part of the change – but it can sometimes feel like you have to fight tooth and nail to get there. It’s one of the reasons I’m so grateful to Hungry Man – they’ve been so supportive of me and really championed me in the commercial space. All you need is someone established who’s fighting your corner and who says ‘we believe in this person, you should too’ – and suddenly other people seem to sit up and listen. I think the industry as a whole could do with a bit more of that.

I also think broadcasters should have an obligation to reflect the audiences they serve, not just because the world should be fairer, but because a more diverse workforce makes for a range of perspectives and therefore stronger storytelling.

LBB> From ‘Transaction’ to ‘Ladhood’ to ‘Quiet Life’, you’ve explored both masculinity and vulnerability through comedy. What keeps you returning to that space?

Ruth> This is another topic I could bang on about for ages. As a female director I always assumed my first break into longform narrative comedy would be on a female-centric show. Then when I was offered ‘Ladhood’ I was delighted, partly because I adored the show but also because I’m really passionate about exploring masculinity.

I think it’s an intrinsic part of the feminist discussion – the negative impact of a patriarchal society on men is just as important as its impact on women. The way (straight) men are still raised and expected not to be vulnerable, not to be emotionally open or even emotionally literate, does a huge disservice to those men as well as to the women around them. I’ve encountered too many men who seem to be terrified of being vulnerable and frankly it means they end up living a life that’s smaller, sadder and less joyful than it should be. It’s heartbreaking.

I think having a female perspective on some of these issues gives you an objectivity that allows you to find the humour in them too. Ultimately though, I think we need to teach men that having feelings isn’t going to kill them. Wear your heart on your sleeve. Get your heart broken. You’ll live.

LBB> You’ve worked with emerging talent like Luke Rollason and big names like Connor Swindells – what do you look for in collaborators, both in front of and behind the camera?

Ruth> I look for people who like me, are passionate, hard-working and imaginative, who take the work seriously, but at the same time don’t take themselves too seriously. I will make jokes on set but I’m also someone who’ll go absolutely above and beyond for the work. I work as hard as I can to try and make sure the end result is as good as I can possibly make it; that’s just who I am. So I love working with people who are equally committed and passionate.

Being kind, collaborative and supportive is also vital. I want everyone to have a good time on set. And ultimately I just haven’t really got the patience for ego or game-playing. I’m part-Turkish and from Yorkshire so I have a tendency to just straightforwardly tell it like it is. I would never be rude or unkind and obviously sometimes as a director you’re working with sensitive people and you have to be tactful and diplomatic – but I have the most fun when I feel like I can be honest, trust my team and receive the same. Filmmaking is always a team effort and a director is only ever as good as the people around them, so finding ones who connect with and understand you, and who are willing to go the extra mile to make sure the project is as good as it can be, who you can have fun with – when you find those people, you never want to let them go.

LBB> Do you feel like the BAFTA win has created a shift – in perception, opportunity, or even how you see yourself creatively?

Ruth> At the moment, it still feels slightly too soon to tell – but yes, I really hope that it will create a shift in the opportunities I’m offered. It was incredible even to be nominated so to win felt like the most phenomenal thing in the world – it still doesn’t quite feel real. I’ve always had ambitions to work in film as well as TV so I would love the opportunity to make my first feature – as well as continuing to direct commercials and TV – and build a body of work that feels authored and expressive of my voice, with flair, heart and humour. Essentially I hope it will allow me the opportunity to make work which feels more intrinsically ‘me’.

LBB> And finally, what kind of stories are calling to you next – and what are you itching to say that you haven’t yet?

Ruth> Oh, what a great question! Ultimately I love comedic projects that are visually ambitious and have something to say – and I’d love to branch out into drama as well. I love projects that combine comedy and another genre, like ‘Slow Horses’ or ‘Bad Sisters’.

I’m currently writing a queer comedy musical set in the 16th century about two gender non-conforming women who are trying to break into the male-dominated world of theatre. As I said, I’m really keen make my first feature film – Luke Rollason and I are writing a zombie comedy feature about a small group of Yorkshire villagers who are trying to stop a huge fossil fuel company from fracking in their village when it turns out the pollution the company has created has caused a zombie outbreak. I’m also working on a TV idea about an eccentric Turkish family who move to Bridlington in Yorkshire, which is about identity and belonging.

Ultimately, what I’m trying to say with my work is that the world should try to be better. And that people are silly, fallible, stupid, wonderful… And that hope, humour and heartbreak are part of our shared experience. We should focus on that rather than fighting over differences.