Mia Teresa’s Latest Work Lives in the Liminal Spaces
Director + Photographer: Mia Teresa | Words and Executive Producer: Andrew Samaha | Producer: Ana Vardi | Production Coordinator: Angelica Cornier | DP: Elliott Atkinson | PA: Asha Trinh | 1st AC: Lucas Salm-Rojo | Gaffer: Brennan Conley | Key Grip: Christian Quintana | Photo Assistants: Alex Aronson + Haru Qi | Lighting Assistant: Adriel Valdez | Talent: Camille Rong + Meelah Naomi | Stylist: Sara Lukaszewski | Stylist Assistant: Alex Leemann | HMUA: Penelope Sierra | Editor: Abby Doherty | Colorist: Nick Daukas | Talent: Creams
In her latest work, filmmaker and photographer Mia Teresa offers an intimate visual meditation on relational tension, routine, and unspoken emotion. Set against a haunting, guitar-driven track, the piece feels both raw and tightly choreographed, threading a subtle narrative through sound and image.
From the start, music was more than a backdrop — it was a collaborator. “I really wanted to portray the routine of these two characters dealing with each other, so I saw the music as a reflection of their push and pull,” Mia explains. The guitar line became a kind of visual metronome for her, inspiring a zigzag rhythm in the movement, blocking, and editing. That interplay creates an elastic tension throughout: sometimes languid, sometimes sharp.
Cinematography here acts like a container for fleeting emotional flashes. “When I’m listening to music, hundreds of little movie scenes will pop up in my head, but they’re fleeting and exist only in memory,” she says. “Choosing one of those scenes and committing to it through cinematography helps actualize the emotion, making the memory of how it made you feel last longer.” This process is evident in the project’s restrained, careful framing and its deliberate pacing, inviting viewers to feel the unspoken words between the characters.
While the mood and palette borrow inspiration from Vincent Gallo’s Buffalo ’66, the music itself was shaped after the visuals. “We recorded the track after filming, once the energy on set had settled into something we could reflect back through sound,” Mia notes. That timing gave the score space to respond intuitively to the tone and rhythm of the footage. “There was no need to dictate it—we let the footage guide the sound.”
One of the film’s most potent moments unfolds in the kitchen scene. As the characters sit across from one another, the music dips into a muffled hush, amplifying the silent tension between them. “There’s tension in the air. You can feel them biting their tongues, holding back from saying what they truly want to,” Mia says. When the music bursts back in, so does movement: the pace quickens, shots feel tighter, energy surges. “We played the music loud while filming most scenes, but for those kitchen shots, you could feel everyone hold their breath when we were rolling.”
Mia Teresa’s latest work lives in that in-between space—the breath held, the words unsaid, the energy that hums beneath routine—and through it, offers a striking portrait of two people navigating their quiet collision.