“Clown-Adjacent” Kimberly Stuckwisch Finds Humour’s Radical Potential
Scheme Engine director Kimberly Stuckwisch’s impressive reel features music videos for artists like Broken Bells and Angel Olsen; a concert film for Olivia Rodrigo’s ‘Sour Prom’; and humorous, glamorous short films for Moschino, Jungle Red’ and ‘Lighting Strikes’. Her latest work is the flirty, dreamy spot for Megan Thee Stallion’s ‘Hot Girl Summer’ swimwear launch at Walmart where Megan emerges from a clam shell like Botticelli's Venus.
Above: 'Hot Girl Swim' , Walmart
Common in all these is a depiction of women genuinely having fun, being funny, and not taking life too seriously. “I look for projects that reflect how I try to live my life, which is a little off kilter, with a helluva lot of joy. Give me fully embodied women who run the show and aren’t afraid to be a little ridiculous,” explains Kimberly.
For Kimberly, the ‘girlboss’ archetype is done. She quips that the “flawless blowout, laser stare, kids dropped off and billion-dollar deal on deck, has been rinsed into cliché. It's not landing like it used to! And, why so serious? Cue Megan Thee Stallion’s ‘Her’– am I right?”
The industry’s abandonment of humour in recent years has taken away a vital mode of communication with consumers but – slowly – humour is finding its way back onto screens. A more light-hearted approach “gives people a glimpse of something they forgot they needed,” says Kimberly. “When did we all stop playing? When did being joyful or spontaneous become something to hide?” she asks. “There’s so much awful, overwhelming reality in the world right now and most of us are just desperate to feel something that isn’t fear or fatigue. We want to laugh, to connect, feel seen. We want to be goofy, to be human. I know my heart wants that more than anything.”
Above: 'Sour Prom' trailer, Olivia Rodrigo
One of Kimberly’s great talents is the ability to portray women and the gamut of their experiences by necessarily embracing the edges and the contradictions. This imbues her work with an effortless, wry authenticity. “At its core, the work I love directing is about giving yourself permission to absolutely be yourself, more than caring how you're being perceived. To surrender to the moment with authenticity. To let your inner clown, your beautifully awkward, tender or chaotic self, take the reins. That part of you that falls down, gets back up, and still finds the joke in it. The one that doesn’t hide their emotions but wears them proudly. That’s where the truth is. That’s where the joy lives,” she states.
The brands unafraid to “lean into that honest place – be it naturalistic, stylised, or theatrical – become more relatable, stir real feeling, and earn the ultimate prize: the audience’s trust.”
Practical, technical magic
Underneath much of Kimberly’s directing style is a deep commitment to technical mastery embodied in stylised visuals and in-camera effects. She prefers the practical route because “there’s something deeply visceral about capturing a moment practically. It feels real. You can sense the weight of it, the presence. There’s a texture, a tension, and a shared breath on set that you just don’t get from relying entirely on VFX,” she states. “I’ve always been drawn to that magic.”
Above: 'Whole Bag Kinda Night', Skinnypop
Directors like Michel Gondry and Spike Jonze were Kimberly’s early influences, especially their music video work, “where the surreal meets the tactile.” The craft was at the heart, “it wasn’t about spectacle for spectacle’s sake,” she adds, noting how “the medium itself is part of the joke, the emotion, the punchline. That scrappy inventiveness still fuels me today. It’s the sweet spot where performance, direction, and technical precision converge. And when it works, it’s electric.”
On recent projects, Kimbery has leaned even further into this visual language by “playing with lighting gags, mirror illusions, physical transitions, and optical effects that require serious planning but the reward is irreplaceable.” Of course VFX has a place in her work she just thinks of it “more as the cherry on top.”
“I’d rather build something weird and imperfect and totally real than render something that doesn’t feel lived-in. In-camera work invites surprise, imperfection, and human error; three things that, in my experience, tend to lead to the best kind of creativity,” she adds. “In the end, I’m just a nerd for problem-solving. Some might even say a MacGyver. Give me a cardboard box, some fishing line, a piece of gum and we’ll find a way to make the impossible possible!”
The nuance of comedy and the art of clowning
Getting comedy right is no easy task and Kimberly has been honing her skills for years – as a clown student, no less – and using them to bring out the comedy in her cast. “Comedy can be the hardest thing to shoot,” she confirms. “It’s so nuanced and easy to get wrong, feel forced, or to miss the beat. Getting to know the actors before working with them is about breaking down their walls, allowing them to be free of judgement, to be bold in their decisions. It’s not about rehearsals, it’s about laughing with the talent.”
On set, Kimberly cultivates “freedom to play” for all cast and crew. “Every morning we kick things off with an uninhibited dance party, or maybe group breathing. The ritual erases hierarchy, signals that fun survives even under pressure, and primes everyone to create fearlessly. A crew in that headspace ignites the cast’s confidence and lets the whole set tap into joy and creativity,” Kimberly says.
While she wouldn’t call herself a professional clown – “That title belongs to true masters of the form like Charlie Chaplin, Sacha Baron Cohen, Viggo Venn, and Natalie Palamides,” she notes – Kimberly “dabbles” in the art form. “I’m clown-informed,” she says with a laugh. “Clown-adjacent. A clown-at-heart. I carry the spirit and principles of clowning into everything I create… and into how I show up on set,” she continues. “It’s an art form that’s rooted in radical humanity and joyful absurdity. It asks you to love yourself, even when you bomb. Even when you trip over your own joke, fall flat on your face, and the room goes silent. It demands that you get over your ego and embrace full surrender. It’s about being present, being porous, and being willing to look foolish… not for the sake of performance, but for the sake of connection.”
Kimberly points to “one of the core tenets of clown” when asked about why she practises the artform, which is “vulnerability, real, terrifying, liberating vulnerability.” Stepping into the clown role is an invitation for the audience “to see your flaws, your chaos, your failures, and to laugh with you. Not at you, not because of you – but because in your flailing, they see themselves. It’s deeply human work, and it’s also wildly freeing,” she reflects.
Above: 'Lightning Strikes', Moschino
On set, this translates to encouraging risk. “I build a container where the cast, crew, PAs, everyone, feel safe enough to try the thing that might not work. Because that’s often where the magic lives. When someone feels free to fall on their face (sometimes literally), they also feel free to fly. That freedom translates into comedy with real heartbeat, into performances with surprise and soul.”
It’s clear that the clown philosophy is interwoven into every aspect of Kimberly’s craft and it’s an ongoing reminder “that directing isn’t about control,” she says. Instead, “it’s about presence. Listening. Tuning into energy. Knowing when to push and when to step back. And never taking yourself too seriously, no matter how big the job. I might be calling the shots, but I’m also the first to crack a dumb joke, to admit when I’m wrong, or to fire up a dance party during lunch. That spirit keeps the whole set loose, collaborative, and alive.”
If it doesn't sound like Kimberly is busy enough, she’s also the board president and founder of the Elysian Theater in Los Angeles. She says it “has quietly (or maybe not-so-quietly) become the clown hub of North America.” The theatre is a place where “some of the most brilliant, unhinged, boundary-pushing performers come to experiment, bomb, and grow. That space constantly feeds me. It reminds me that the best art, the kind that really sticks to you, isn’t afraid to be ridiculous.”
Photo credit: Robbie Augspurger
The current cultural and political landscape doesn’t lend itself to a lot of laughs and Kimberly agrees, saying, “We’re living in a time of overwhelming seriousness: politically, culturally, existentially.” Yet humour and silliness in times like these can be a balm or necessary release valve that helps people to carry on. For Kimberly, both “have a massive, radical potential, especially right now. Everything feels high-stakes and hyper-controlled, like we’re all tiptoeing through systems designed to keep us scared, divided, or constantly performing. That’s exactly why humour is so necessary. It’s subversive. It interrupts. It disarms. It reminds us that we’re human. That we can still laugh, still connect, still be ridiculous in the face of absurdity.”
“My friend Chad Damiani puts it perfectly: ‘Clowns go in and their job is to break all the rules and show you that the system, the institution, is actually a lie’. And that’s the heart of it; clowning, silliness, comedy in its rawest form. It exposes the cracks in the system by refusing to play by its rules. It’s a form of resistance that doesn’t preach. It just is, in all its joyful chaos. It gives people permission to let go, to feel, to rebel in small but powerful ways. And right now, in a world full of curated personas, that kind of authentic release is not only refreshing… it’s radical.”
