Henry Behel: “I’m a Little Bit Addicted to Trying the Impossible”

Henry Behel doesn’t do things the easy way. In fact, he probably doesn’t know how. The Portland-born director specialises in creating the kind of films which get your hairs standing on-end, as any time spent flicking through his reel will show. 

Now represented by Sunneva in Canada, Henry initially built up his craft shooting at air shows - something the director now admits amounts to ‘filmmaking on hard mode’. Since then, he’s continued to apply that same ‘nothing-is-impossible’ attitude, whether it be building his own drones or, on one occasion, his own entire runway. It’s symbolic of a director with a restless imagination - when he’s not putting together contraptions to help achieve one ambitious idea, he’s busy thinking up another one. 

Here, the filmmaker reflects on the ‘blurring of the line’ between films and games, the benefits of a background in theatre and why, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but be blown away by the spectacle of Top Gun: Maverick. 

To talk through it all, Henry sat down with LBB’s Adam Bennett. 

LBB> Henry, let’s start right at the beginning - what kind of a kid were you growing up, and at what point did you first come to think of yourself as a ‘filmmaker’?

Henry> I always had my head in the clouds. My first grade teacher called me ‘the absent-minded professor’ because I was always off in my imagination, dreaming something up. I was obsessed with books, movies, games - anything that transported me to another world. I didn't think of myself as a filmmaker until well into my 20s, but I should have known sooner. 

In my middle school history class I once asked to make a film instead of a final essay. The project became a 20-minute epic called "The Viking Age" featuring multiple sword fight scenes in the snow, a voiceover from Old Norse poetry, and, for some reason, Carmina Burana. I also starred in the film, complete with a glorious death scene. It's one of my main regrets in life that no one kept a copy of this lost masterpiece.

LBB> I understand that you’ve also got a bit of a background in theatre. Is that something that influences your approach to your craft today at all?

Henry> Watching theatre feels so immediate, so unpredictable, and so impossible, compared to film which is a very clean and curated experience. But on set, making a film can feel as risky and immediate as a theatre performance. 

I think my experience in theatre is a huge part of why I love being on set so much, and probably why I thrive in the hurricane of filmmaking - there's just nothing that can phase you after the abject terror of a live audience. 

Theatre also gave me a deep respect for actors and a shorthand for talking to them, which is one of the most important skills for a director. And maybe most importantly, theatre gave me a love for the process - the messy, beautiful, frustrating, delightful process of making something that moves someone you've never met.

LBB> I’ve read that you first got your start filming airshows. Is that something which contributed to your ‘fresh take on octane’?

Henry> Filming planes taught me to unshackle the camera in three dimensions. It's taught me how to choreograph movement to achieve dynamic, high relative-motion shots, how to communicate those shots precisely, and an almost zen-like focus while shooting in high-stress scenarios. 

Some people don't know, but any time you see air-to-air shots of planes in my work, I'm usually flying the camera-ship. I got my pilot's licence at about the same time I picked up a camera, so the two loves have grown up together.

Above: Henry’s in-air directing skills were put to the test in this exhilarating spot for Bremont Watches.  

LBB> An awe-inspiring take on the scale and power of nature is something that comes up a few times across your work. Is that intentional, and are you someone who finds themselves creatively inspired by the natural world?

Henry> I'm really glad you're calling this out. This planet defies words - how could anything be more inspiring than the awesome beauty of this little rock? It's important to capture that beauty, because seeing it helps people appreciate it, and we desperately, desperately need people to appreciate it.

Above: The natural world serves as the functional main character in this beautifully-shot piece of film for Blue Cross Idaho. 

LBB> Looking back at your work, are there any projects which stand out in your memory as especially meaningful or significant to you? If so, which are they and why?

Henry> The Unimatic spot fulfilled a longtime dream of racing a car against a plane--and it was extra special because it was a group of my closest friends and collaborators working on a project for the first time since the beginning of the pandemic. The joy of being back on set again was indescribable. 

Above: Henry’s work with Unimatic allowed the director to pit a car against a plane in another example of his high-octane approach to filmmaking.  

Otherwise, the Reyka Vodka spot was such a privilege. I got to traipse around the most awe-inspiring land on the planet with the express purpose of capturing the beauty and power of that land. Such a simple project, but such a joy to work on.

Above: The incredible vistas of Iceland truly shine in Henry’s work for Reyka Vodka. 

LBB> In a previous interview, I read that you built your own drones for a shoot - and on one occasion even built your own runway! Is that practical aspect of filmmaking something that you’re especially drawn to?

Henry> I'm a little addicted to defying the impossible. Some would say the best way to get me to do something is to tell me it can't be done. 

Building that runway is still something I laugh about. I had found the perfect location for my short film, this ancient aviation ranch with a long dirt strip and a hangar/home--the only problem was that the runway hadn't been used in at least thirty years and was rutted out from flooding and overgrown with thorny shrubbery. I rented a Home Depot pickup truck, chained it to a 15-foot diameter metal wheel thingy I found by the side of the road, turned on Invisibilia, and dragged that runway all night long. We're all storytellers in this business--maybe I just get a kick out of living the story in addition to creating it. 

LBB> From Unimatic to Forty Creek, one theme that unites a lot of your work is originality. What's your process for ensuring that you're producing ideas which feel fresh and true to the product at the same time? 

Henry> I'm glad that comes through the work! I think I use passion as a north star. If I don't feel passionate about something, I know I haven't found it yet and I need to keep pushing until I feel that fire ignite. You can feel it when you find the right idea. I daydream a lot, and suddenly--boom--an idea comes and I have a ridiculous grin on my face. I know that if I feel that passion, I can channel it into an experience that leaves a lasting impression with the audience. And it keeps me loving what I do.

As far as keeping it true to the product--I actually think it's about genuineness. Every product and brand has a unique identity that must be learned, felt, and protected from the forces of the generic and the salesy.

Above: Henry’s jaw-dropping work for the Central Coast Airfest used drones to capture its most stunning shots. 

LBB> We’re speaking at a time where there’s a lot of industry hype regarding ‘virtual production’ tech - is that something that excites you?

Henry> The kinds of camera movement, transitions, and insanity I could cook up with these tools... I'm itching for a project to try it out. My impulse is always "do it for real" and 99% of my work is in-camera, but I have to admit that we're reaching a kind of filmic singularity where you sometimes can't tell anymore what's real and what's fake, especially with Unreal work. 

As a long time gamer, I'm excited by the blurring of the lines between film and games. I always thought I would have designed video games in another life. Maybe it doesn't have to be another life.

LBB> That’s interesting - I expected you to say that you’d always prefer to go for the practical and the ‘real’ every time… 

Henry> Ha, well if you like I could write a long treatise on the virtues of doing everything in-camera. But when I think of some directors I really admire, who are doing incredible things in Unreal recently, I just think “you know what, this tech is extraordinary”. 

For me, the thing is that it has to be invisible. The moment I know that I am seeing game design made into a commercial is the moment the immersion breaks. If there is any way in which there’s a possibility to do something for real, that’s what I’ll pitch. The technology is only reserved for the ‘impossible’ shots that actually are impossible.

LBB> And what about that blurring of the line between film and games that you mentioned? Why is that exciting, exactly? Do you relish the opportunity to make your work more interactive? 

Henry> I definitely don’t want to make films into games, and I don’t want to make games into films. But I do have a longtime love of video games - it’s an incredible medium. 

I’m reluctant to totally blend the two mediums, however, because film is a wonderfully non-interactive art. There have been many attempts to make films interactive, and I think they’ve always been interesting… but they haven’t hit the mark for me. There’s just something jarring about it. 

So, for the time being, film is film and games are games. But it is interesting to watch as technology does blur that line and ask fresh questions to both mediums.

LBB> Is there a particular kind of project that you'd be especially keen to be involved with in the future? If so, why?

Henry> I'd love to do a shoot in space. The final frontier. Really though, anything that pushes the limits in some way--especially creatively. On the narrative side, I feel like I've been preparing my whole life to direct Top Gun 3 or Mission Impossible 10, so Paramount, give me a call.

LBB> On a final note, if you had the power to travel back in time and give your past self one piece of advice, what would it be and why? 

Oh man, I've got a lot of advice for my poor past self, trying too hard to brainiac his way through problems and agonising about not being good enough. It's the agonising that creates the agony, little Henry. 

If you focus on having fun with the work, the work gets better (and easier). Second, when it comes to creativity, stop waiting for inspiration; focus on iteration. Don't expect it to be the Sistine Chapel on the first sketch. A shitty first draft is the most powerful force in the universe.