When I was asked for horror pitches that were infused with Americana about one of the fifty states, “Ball of Twine!” were the first three words that popped into my head. As it would for anyone else, right? Car culture and the nostalgia of the American road trip has put roadside attractions into a special category of American kitsch that seemed ripe with delightfully gruesome opportunities.
The World’s Largest Ball of Twine is a very real thing. Through the winding road of development our story eventually became a Chinese-American story set in Kansas, but the pitch started out as a Hmong-American story set in my beloved home state of Minnesota, which is where the very first giant ball of twine originated.
Growing up in Minneapolis I had always known about the ball but the first time I witnessed its strange glory in person was for my best friend Anna’s bachelorette party. We decked out a minivan with pink streamers and drove an hour and a half outside of the city to take in the dazzling glamour of 17 thousand pounds of sisal twine. Judge my maid of honor activity choice all you want, but almost a decade later this little trip to Darwin, Minnesota would inspire one of the nine gruesome stories that make up season one of the Quibi horror anthology 50 States of Fright.
“Ball of Twine” is about Susan and Amelia, a mother and daughter who innocently visit a Kansan roadside attraction. But when Amelia goes missing Susan’s attempts to find her are discouraged by the town’s Sheriff Stallings, and she is soon confronted by the town’s twisted secrets. One of the true highlights of directing this story was working with mega talent Ming-Na Wen, the ever iconic Karen Allen, and awesome newcomer Thailey Roberge. Ming-Na, with her nuanced warmth and depth of experience for action, made my wildest dreams come true in portraying the butt-kicking, axe wielding, Asian-American Midwest Mom.
Writer Mae Catt and I were especially inspired by John Carpenter’s The Thing and wanted to lean whole hog into the body horror sub-genre. While researching I came across a short story by Peter Watts aptly titled “The Things” that narrated the events of Carpenter’s film through the first-person perspective of The Thing itself as it tried to survive and understand the humans. This story moved, terrified and inspired me to make sure the ball of twine monster was a real character with wants, needs and motivations as rich as our human protagonists.
When I arrived in Vancouver (the irony of shooting a series called 50 States of Fright in Canada was not lost on any of us), the main topic of concern was, of course, how on earth were we going to shoot a fight sequence inside a ball of twine? How can we construct said ball in a way that would allow us a variety of camera angles, while fitting inside it two actors, two extras, sixteen grasping arms, and a camera operator with a Sony Venice on his shoulders? An unprecedented but delightful challenge for us all.
After many iterations of different ball configurations the incredible team at Masters FX, lead by Todd Masters, came up with a plan to create two separate balls: one “hero” ball that would show off the orbital exterior and be placed inside the custom built twine museum conceived by production designer Eric Norlin; and an “FX” ball — filled with layers upon layers of latex twine — for interior shots.
I am forever indebted to the art crew that worked tirelessly on a relentless schedule to get the museum and ball finished. They were still adding shingles to the roof and twine to the ball the night before it was to be shot. Arriving on set to see this incredible 14-foot creation was one of those breathless moments where I felt like a kid again, seduced and enthralled by movie magic. I wish I could have kept it and made the interior into the strangest AirBnb.
It was a joy to bring this twisted midwest story to life. Sam Raimi’s abundant love for filmmaking and exuberant creativity was infectious, and his mentorship through this process was a great gift. Sam, Debbie Liebling, Gunpowder & Sky and Quibi were all very supportive of Mae and I bringing our authentic voices and allowing the story to reflect aspects of our unique American experiences. It was important that at the center of our potentially outlandish concept we were still offering something deeply personal to the audience. Yes, the story is about a giant evil ball, but it’s also a mother-daughter story about the anxieties of being a perpetual outsider. As a woman with an outline of the state of Minnesota tattooed to my ankle, it would be an understatement to say I have a deep love for the Midwest. I was born in Kyoto, Japan but when I was five we moved because my Buddhist monk Dad was hired to be the head priest of the Minnesota Zen Center. I had my share of “othering” while growing up in Minnesota, even though I considered myself to be as dedicated of a Minnesotan as anyone else and considered the state to be my beloved home. Asian-American representation has grown in so many exciting ways in the last few years, but I still see tremendous opportunities to expand beyond stories centering coastal AAPIs and to also spotlight our rich experiences as a part of the midwestern heartland and also the south. It’s a very specific thing to reside in a place where no one thinks people who look like you exist, and I am thrilled to have had the opportunity to infuse those anxieties into an action-packed horror story. In light of the recent pandemic-fueled xenophobia and racism against Chinese-Americans and Asian-Americans at large, I think telling more of our stories within the horror space has increased in urgency. Because of this, I am so grateful to have directed a story that highlights how we are an undeniable part of these 50 States of Fright.
