Missing: An Interview with Laura Calle

Please tell us about the projects you worked on before making ‘Missing’. How did you start, and how did you learn to make films?

Before making Missing, I worked on several short films that allowed me to explore different storytelling styles blending irony, emotions, and a touch of surrealism. Some of these include The Wall, Woke, and Lemon Sucks. Each project was a learning experience where I played with genre, tone, and form, often weaving in personal stories or observations of everyday absurdities.

I began making films after spending years immersed in completely different fields from hospitality to architecture. I’d always felt drawn to storytelling, but it wasn’t until I returned to New York and enrolled at City College that I formally studied Film and Video Production. That was my entry point. From there, I kept learning through collaborations, mistakes, and watching as many films as I could.

Later, I pursued an MFA at Feirstein Graduate School of Cinema, where filmmaking became a way to reconnect with my roots, reflect on my journey, and give shape to the stories that had quietly grown inside of me. Often, these are stories about women, identity, and invisible labor… told with a dose of irony and metaphor. Missing continued on that path but marked a shift in tone, leaning deeper into surrealism and ambiguity.

Tell us about ‘Missing’. How do you describe it?

Missing is a surreal short film that unfolds like a dream or maybe a glitch in one. On the surface, it follows a man going through a typical morning routine in a quiet suburb. But subtle oddities begin to appear: a dog dragging a long chain, a “missing person flyer” with familiar faces, a strange emptiness in the house. As the day progresses, the line between reality and introspection begins to blur.

I describe Missing as a meditation on absence on what’s gone, what’s been erased, or what we refuse to see in relationships. It plays with that quiet feeling that something is off, but you can’t quite name it. At its core, it explores the idea that what’s missing may be a part of ourselves we’ve already outgrown. Maybe we’ve renounced to some parts of ourselves to evolve into something new. Maybe we carry the key to break the chains but the question is, do we really need to? Or have we already stepped beyond without realizing it?

Please tell us about your favorite filmmakers.

Some of my favorite filmmakers are those who blur the line between reality and imagination who make the ordinary feel strange and the strange feel familiar. Directors like Roy Andersson, Ruben Östlund, and Lucrecia Martel inspire me with their distinct visual languages and emotional complexity.

I also admire Yorgos Lanthimos for his deadpan surrealism, and Alice Rohrwacher for the poetic way she captures rural life and memory. Luis Buñuel opened the door to the surreal and the subversive in ways that still resonate deeply, while John Cassavetes showed how raw, intimate, and emotionally charged independent cinema can be.

Each of them, in their own way, invites us to question perception, identity, and the hidden stories beneath the surface. Their work reminds me that film doesn’t have to explain everything it can whisper, confuse, disturb, or simply exist and still connect profoundly. That’s the kind of cinema I aspire to create.

If you were given a good budget, what would be your ideal project?

If I were given a good budget, my ideal project would be a feature-length surreal drama something visually bold and emotionally layered, grounded in a seemingly ordinary world that slowly unravels into something strange, symbolic, and dreamlike.

I’d love to explore themes of memory, identity, and invisible labor especially through the lens of women’s lives across generations. Maybe it would take place in a remote village or an old suburban home, where time folds in on itself, and objects begin to speak more truth than the people. A film where reality bends just enough to reveal what’s been buried or ignored.

With the right budget, I could fully realize the visual metaphors and sound design that drive the emotional undercurrent of my stories. I’d bring together a team that understands how to build mood and tension through subtle details, costume, production design, rhythm. And I’d fight to keep the ambiguity alive…to let the audience feel something deep even if they can’t quite name it.

In short: a film that doesn’t just tell a story but creates a world you fall into and carry with you long after.

Describe how you would ensure that production is on schedule. What steps would you take?

To keep production on schedule, I focus on solid planning, good communication, and staying flexible. I start by breaking down the script and working closely with both my assistant director and producer to build a realistic, efficient shooting schedule. I also meet early with each department to make sure everyone’s on the same page and we’re ready for any surprises.

I like to come to set with a clear shot list, visual references, and very importantly a storyboard. But I always leave room for changes if something better comes up in the moment. I also plan a little extra time into each day for unexpected delays because something always comes up!

At the end of each day, I review what we’ve done and make any tweaks to keep us on track. For me, staying on schedule is about being prepared but also staying calm and open. I work very closely with my producer and always listen to the team some of the best ideas come from those unexpected conversations. It’s all about working together and creating a space where everyone feels confident to do their best.

What was the hardest part of making ‘Missing’.

The hardest part of making Missing was balancing its surreal, ambiguous tone with the practical challenges of production… especially traveling with the crew to a different location. I’ve always loved the idea of discovering new places with my team, and for this project, we traveled from New York to Atlanta to stretch our budget and gain more flexibility. But moving a crew is never simple, it means coordinating schedules, equipment, housing, and still keeping the creative vision intact.

We also had Meringa, my dog, as one of our main characters. She brought so much charm to the film, but as with any animal on set, it was unpredictable. Getting her in the right place at the right time and trying to keep her there definitely added an extra challenge.

On top of that, the emotional core of Missing relies on subtlety. Every detail had to feel intentional without giving too much away. So while we were juggling logistics and timing, we also had to trust that the feeling of unease and meaning would come through in the quiet moments through silence, atmosphere, and small gestures. It was a delicate balance, but one that made the whole process incredibly rewarding.

If possible, tell us about your next work. What plans do you have for your future work?

My current project is La Partenza, a surreal drama set in a small, picturesque Italian town. It follows a mother who’s the only one preparing for a family trip, carrying the invisible weight of everyone’s needs. Each time they try to leave, something is forgotten, forcing them to turn back until the mother begins to break down, both physically and emotionally. A strange rash appears on her back, and reality starts to shift in unexpected ways. It’s a story filled with metaphor, irony, and emotions… about burnout, motherhood, and the quiet desire to escape.

We’re currently in the post-production phase of La Partenza, carefully shaping the edit, sound design, and visual details to bring this world to life.

Looking ahead, my next project is a feature film titled The Old Guy. It tells the story of an elderly immigrant who begins to recover his forgotten native language, guided knowingly or not by his grandson. It’s a poetic and surreal exploration of memory, identity, and the things we lose and regain across generations. Like my past work, it blends emotional intimacy with visual storytelling, and I’m excited to expand these themes on a larger scale.