filmmaker and podcaster Andrew Jenks on authentic storytelling, mental health, and why intentions matter
meet Andrew,
filmmaker, TV producer, author, and founder of the largest high school film festival in the world, The All American High School Film Festival.
but don’t let his accomplishments distract you: at the heart of it all, Andrew is a storyteller for the people who are misunderstood, wrongly accused, and just like you.
Andrew exemplifies the idea of meeting people where they’re at, and doing what you can to leave a situation better than you found it.. whether it’s by uncovering the truth, giving a voice to the voiceless, or simply expressing kindness (which costs nothing).
i’m inspired by the way Andrew has been able to live a thousand lives in one, and can’t wait to see what stories he tells next.
First things first, I think the best way to introduce you is by letting everyone know that you’re a storyteller. TV, documentaries, a podcast, a book.. through and through. So tell me, what does it mean to be a storyteller?
To be a storyteller, you need to know how to, ideally, empathize. Storytelling is trying to put yourself in someone else’s shoes and understand what that’s like. Whether it’s a documentary or a horror film, you want to be able to really feel what it’s like to be that person.
The first I saw of you was your show, World of Jenks, which was completely empathetic. Looking back now, I think it was ahead of its time in terms of topics and approach. One thing that I drew from it was that it was true reality: showing people’s lives as they go through hardships, and putting the viewer in their shoes, like you said. You filmed and showed people dealing with these real-life problems. How do you come to terms with leaving a situation that’s not fixed? Because it wasn’t an HGTV show, where you could wrap it up nicely.
That’s funny, right. It was never a neatly-packaged experience for me. A lot of times I would leave filming with someone and they were still in the midst of going through what they were going through. I would go off and I would, in a very surreal way, still see them a lot because we would be editing the footage for weeks – or, more often, months on end. Watching cut after cut.
I think one thing that I try and do with anyone that I film [with] is when I first meet them, I give them my cell phone number, and I say, “Before we start filming, while we’re filming, when we’re done filming, when it airs, after it’s done airing… here’s my number and if you ever call me, I will absolutely pick up. If I don’t pick up, I will call you right back. I try my best to live up to that.”
I try and develop a very sincere and honest trust from the get-go.
There was one woman that we followed in season one named Danielle, who went by the nickname Heavy D. She was homeless. I remember when I was leaving, I wanted to give her money, or try and help her find an apartment. And maybe I did to some extent. But those are sorts of things that were going to come and go, and I knew that at the time, she wasn’t even necessarily looking for [that]. But what I did give her was just a very small, simple cell phone. I said, “Here’s a phone, that way you know that you always have someone that you can talk to and communicate with.”
That is something that I think, a lot of times, is overlooked in general amongst friends… just the ability to pick up the phone and call someone.
Right, especially nowadays. People would rather text. Or, with social media, you just kind of assume you’re updated with their life, but you’re probably not.
Not at all. I think you’re given a Disney version of their life. Texting, I think, is usually a really poor way to communicate anything serious. I’m much more of a “pick up the phone” kind of guy.
I agree. And with social media… nowadays everyone is famous. They’re a star; they’re an “influencer.” But with World of Jenks, you found people that weren’t necessarily looking for that. They lived so authentically, and you captured them exactly as they were, that audiences felt deeply connected, to the point where some people still want to be updated on Chad seven years later. What do you believe lends itself to finding those people and creating that authenticity, especially in juxtaposition to the current state of reality television?
I’m glad you say that. We - and in general, I - am always looking for people who are not looking to be on TV or in film. I remember on the MTV show, we followed a guy named Anthony “Showtime” Pettis. I had been interested in the world of mixed martial arts. It was becoming a very popular sport, and so we reached out to the professional leagues – the UFC and there was another league at the time called WEC – and we said, “We’re doing this show. We’re looking for people who have depth and different stories going on in their lives.” They sent over a bunch of tapes of fighters being interviewed and everyone was clearly… they wanted to be on TV. They would be very loud and they’d rip their shirt off and do different antics. I was starting to give up on pursuing a fighter, and then one of the last tapes… I’ll never forget where I was when I watched it. It was this mild-mannered guy. He was very quiet. His name was Anthony “Showtime” Pettis, and he was known to put on quite a show when he was in the ring. But watching the tape, when he started talking, he was, by most measures, understated. Very matter-of-fact. And then he suddenly said, “I want to show you where my dad is. I talk to him everyday.” His dad had died but Anthony went to the graveyard every afternoon. So he goes. His friend was filming all of this on like an iPhone. The graveyard was covered in snow. He lives in Milwaukee, so there’s a lot of snow. The snow was up to his knees and he just started walking. He’s talking with his friend, and he suddenly stops. There were no trees or anything to know where you were in the graveyard. But Anthony says, ‘here he is’. And he brushes aside a few feet of snow. And sure enough, it’s his dad’s tombstone. And he starts talking to his dad. The only way to know that exact spot of where his father was would be if you really do go everyday. It was a surreal moment. You could tell he was still coping with his father’s passing. And I think his father’s death had a lot to do with why Anthony was a fighter. And that always interests me. The “why” of it all. Why we do what we do. Especially people competing at a high level - putting their body through such grind - like Anthony does.
So anyway, that was the end of the video. Come to think of it, in many ways, it was a really terrible video that they sent in. Half the time he wasn’t talking. Camera was shaky. But he was probably one of our best episodes because he just reeked of sincerity.
And those are delicate situations that you would film a lot of times. As a human, you create the bond and connection, but as a filmmaker, you do have to get the shot. You’ve said before you would rather film everything and then cut back as you edit. There are obviously circumstantial boundaries to each project. Have you found a balance with what to film, or do you still live by the method of film now, edit later?
We still film everything. If I am in the project, I usually like to start filming the second I meet the person. If I am not, it’s different. We normally don’t usually really start filming until there is a level of trust and the people I am filming realize that I’m in it to show their lives in an honest way - that it will be the good, the bad, the ugly.
I remember when I made the movie Dream/Killer, on our first trip down there, the crew was a little bit confused because I said we weren’t going to film anything. We went down there for a few days, and we just met Ryan’s family. For those that don’t know the story, Ryan was wrongfully incarcerated for ten years for a murder he didn’t commit. We just met with his dad, and had this like, four-hour dinner. We met with his mom for lunch, and we just got to know them. And they got to know us. And then we came back a few months later and began filming. I had been talking to Ryan on the phone for weeks, if not months, before we actually started filming with him in prison.
There’s an understanding that once I’m filming, we’re going to be filming everything. But there’s also a deep trust that’s been built.
You take the time to build that trust, and that’s something to be respected. Do you think, in general, we can capture that kind of storytelling now? Or do you think that with the new sensational news cycle, social media, and all of those things have changed the playing field so much that fame, or idea of a creating and obtaining platform, is going to bleed into it, even a little?
That’s a good question. Will it bleed into it a bit? It changes things. But things have been always changing. I’m working on a project right now about General George Armstrong Custer from the Civil War, and he arguably became a very famous soldier because he, and his wife, knew how to use the media at the time. [They] knew how to tell really good stories that shined a great light on him. He knew the value of photographs.
For someone in my position, you just have to keep an eye out for people that are like him. Just because people know and see more reality shows and kind of get how the game works, so to speak, I still think it’s totally plausible to find sincere people that aren’t putting on any sort of act.
Okay, you just mentioned the Civil War. You have so much versatility in your projects and the things you do – film, TV, the YouTube series, producing. They all cover a wide variety of subjects. But getting into podcasts… they’re different because there’s no visual. It’s all audio. How did you get into that arena, and what’s it like no longer having those visuals?
It’s interesting. Podcasting… I got into it because I was in a meeting where I was pitching to Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s company, Seven Bucks Productions, the story of this one time in 1981 when Muhammad Ali reportedly saved a guy from committing suicide. This guy named Joseph had been up on the ledge, threatening to jump for about two hours. Police had come up to try to talk him down. A priest, a psychiatrist… nothing worked. It turned out that Muhammad Ali’s best friend was down in the crowd watching from below. He called Muhammad Ali and, and Muhammad Ali showed up, reports are, in four minutes. It’s a much longer story, and I was telling it, and eventually someone in the meeting said, “This sounds like a podcast. It sounds like I’m listening to a podcast.” And I said, “Tell me more. What’s a podcast, again?” That ended up being the first episode of a podcast series. It wasn’t as if I was like, “Oh, I should get into the podcast space.” I was just doing what I love doing – telling a story – and someone brought it up. Yeah, podcasting is certainly different. Half of the tools, if you will, that I’m used to are gone. There are no visuals. When I make a movie or TV show, people are more or less watching it - by that, I mean their attention is focused on the movie or on the show. Maybe they’re on their phone; maybe they’re on their computer, but you know, you expect that that’s the primary thing they’re doing - watching what you put together. With a podcast, people are usually actually doing something else - they’re driving, they’re running an errand, they’re working out, they’re going to work. You have to be that much more clear, in a way, in how you’re telling your story. And you have to find clever ways of keeping the audience engaged without being too blatant about it. There will be a part thirty minutes into a story I’m telling, that you have to know, but I don’t want to stop and say, “Alright, make sure you’re paying attention here because I’m about to tell you something really important!” There are clever and nuanced storytelling devices to use that make it work for podcasts, but it’s certainly different.
I see. Would you say that, three seasons in, it’s starting to come more naturally to you, or is it a challenge each episode you create?
I’m always trying to push myself to do the podcast in different ways. When I start to figure out one component or one way of doing things, I try and do something else. For instance, most episodes – well, every episode – I had always narrated. And then I did an interview with a woman who was in a Lyft and had gotten raped.
I was interviewing her, and then we started to edit the episode, and I thought, “Well, why am I narrating this? She’s really telling this incredible story.”
So, she was nice enough to come back into the studio, answer some more questions, and you just hear her voice. Except for the very end, you don’t hear my voice in the episode. It’s just hers. There’s always ways to kind of challenge yourself to better tell a story.
Speaking of challenges, you’re known for working weekends, working late into the night. Is it safe to assume that you’re a workaholic?
Yeah, that’s fair.
I’ve found that this is different for everybody, especially when it comes to defining your own boundaries, but how do you personally maintain or define your version of work-life balance?
If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be in therapy. I don’t know.
I really, really love what I do, and I feel very grateful and lucky that I’m able to make a living doing it. I’m just one of those people that, I kind of count my blessings.
For me, it’s fun. It hardly ever feels like work. Well, that’s not true.
It feels like work, but it’s for something that I believe in. When you believe in something, it’s hard to get your mind off of it.
I don’t know. As you can tell, I’m stumbling around, so I don’t have a good answer for that. I just love working and so far, if I had an option to go out and hang with friends or if I could go work – I have good friends, and they know this - I would pick work every day. It’s just something I love to do.
Right, and those sacrifices make sense to you.
There are definitely sacrifices. You miss things. You miss hanging out with certain friends or family, but it’s something that you kind of live to do.
Yeah. And yes, you’re a filmmaker, but you’re also a human. Something I have come to respect about you especially is that you talk honestly about the struggles that you deal with, and you’ve done it almost before it became as widely talked about. I try to watch my words with this, but I’m referring to anxiety, mental health, depression. Was talking so openly conscious decision, or something that came naturally?
No, I more or less avoided talking about it on the MTV show because I was ashamed about it. Then, I think as I got into my late twenties, early thirties, I realized that it was such a big part of who I was. I maybe posted about it once or twice, and I just saw the reaction. The number of people that reached out and could relate and felt relieved that they heard someone else talking about it kind of inspired me to just be more open about it in life.
It was something that I hid from some of my best friends. So, I just totally changed my approach and now it’s something that I talk about very openly because it’s a part of who I am, and a big part of my life. I think I really regretted not bringing it up when I had other opportunities in the past, and so it was kind of a natural progression for me.
I just want to say, thank you for being honest and open and showing others that they can be honest, as well. You’ve created these conversations, and seen the ripple effect firsthand. How do you think we can integrate not only mental health awareness, but compassion for others who may be struggling? Because I’ve found that for every one person that appreciates your honesty, there’s always someone else who doesn’t, and I think half of it is just being kinder to others. And it’s sometimes hard to put those things first when you’re stuck in the comparison game, or thinking about success.
I think it’s important to always pay attention to what your intention is. Remind yourself, “Okay, what’s my intention? What is this person’s intention?” If you’re always paying attention to that, you have these sort of goal posts in life that make it easier to decide on what the right decision is, and what you want to talk about, or don’t want to talk about. Or when somebody says something, reminding yourself what their intention is behind it is a good thing to always keep in mind.
Switching gears a bit, you went against the grain in the sense that you left college to stay in a retirement home, and you documented the experience. It’s been around ten years since Room 335 was released. What is your biggest takeaway from the project in retrospect?
There was one person there named Tammy, who was ninety-six years old. She couldn’t hear that well; she couldn’t see that well. Physically, she wasn’t doing great, but mentally, she was totally still doing quite well. At lunchtime, she would roll around in her wheelchair to any table that looked gloomy, and she would tell a sex joke. There was another guy named Bill. Bill was eighty-two years old. Mentally, he was losing it. Physically, though, he was still there, and he would walk across the street every day to the Dollar Store and buy a few dollars’ worth of candy, and then give it to a few residents there. And he could remember who liked which candy.
It was interesting, and I’ll never forget how they used whatever they had left – either physically or mentally – to give back to other people. That’s something that I’ll never forget, that I do believe that there is kind of an instinct in humans to try and help.
And I’m not calling you old, I promise, but do you want to live in a retirement home one day? Did that experience bring up that conversation for you at all?
Living in retirement homes, there are exceptions, but no. It made me not want to live in a retirement home. A lot of these people were largely forgotten by society. And while they didn’t feel bad for themselves at all, I certainly did. One day, maybe I sure will end up in a retirement home, but I don’t think that’s something that I would necessarily want.
It’s kind of an interesting juxtaposition in the sense that the residents create their own community, and they get so used to it that they don’t know different. Whereas entering into it for five weeks, you kind of have a fresher perspective of relationships outside of those walls.
Right. Totally. Yeah. That’s a good way to put it, yeah, exactly.
And you filmed Room 335 at nineteen. I want to mention the All-American High School Film Festival, which is your non-profit, and it’s awesome. (Can you explain what that’s about)?
When I was a sophomore or junior in high school I’d make short films with my friends. But I’d have nowhere to play them. So I just started a local festival at my high school. We played a handful of short films in the school’s small auditorium. After the first year, the school said I needed a teacher to supervise this. So I found one who was willing to give his time. And the teacher, Tom Oliva, ended up continuing the festival after I left high school. And then, about 8 years ago, we decided to make the festival international. We have now received thousands of submissions from all 50 states, and nearly 50 countries. We’ve given out over 2 million dollars in scholarships and prizes. We have a college fair, a technology fair, and the official selections are played at the AMC Theaters in Times Square. I am beyond proud of what we’ve been able to put together with a tiny budget. If anyone out there is interested in helping us reach out to us at CraveArts.org or tom@aahsff.com.
But regardless of age, what is one piece of advice you have for someone who wants to get into a creative field?
Really understand the value of telling a story. I think you need to really study storytelling. And then I think, also, I’ve met different people that have done well in the film and TV world, [and] they’re all very different people with different interests and different styles, but they all work really hard. I think that’s the one thing. It’s not something that is easy or ever comes easy. For our first movie, I think we shot like 200 hours of footage for about a 90-minute movie. For our second movie, we shot for nine months for a 90-minute movie. For the MTV show, someone did the math once: we shot 140 hours for every thirty minutes, which is only 22 minutes when you count commercials. I would say working hard is the big thing.
What is one thing that everyone should know how to do?
Tell a story, whether it’s an email or giving directions, or convincing someone of something. Telling a story is vital to life.
No two days are the same for anyone, but what does a day in your life look like?
Waking up at like 6 or 7, starting to work by 8. I’m working on the podcast right now, so it’s researching, writing, recording, interviewing. I try to go for a workout at some point, ideally around 10 or 11. And then I try to get to sleep by 12 or 1.
And to end this where it began, storytelling. What is one story that you want to tell that you haven’t been able to tell yet?
One story that I haven’t been able to tell yet would be… there is a lot. Let’s see… I’m really looking to do some sort of TV show in the mental health world - something that can talk about mental health in a way that is entertaining and fun, and not too pedantic or serious. It’s a really tough thing to figure out, but I’d say that’s something that I’m trying to work on.
seven questions with andrew jenks:
I can’t go a day without… working.
Everyone should watch… Sex Education.
Life is better with a little… friendship. Work on your friendships; the good ones aren’t always easy.
Everyone in their 20s should… spend a lot of time thinking about what you think can contribute to the world, and spend a lot of time working on ways in which you can do that.
One insider thing to do in New York City… walk around for an hour without headphones. Put your phone on airplane mode, and just experience it.
What the world needs right now is… more empathy.
One way to spread love is… volunteer once a month for something. There’s a million places you can do it. Do it for one hour and you can change lives. And don’t broadcast it to the world; it’s like your little secret.