Paolo Marinou-Blanco (Class of 1991)

As part of our ongoing effort to highlight the achievements of our Alumni and inspire current students, Paolo Marinou-Blanco (Class of 1991) acclaimed film producer and director, was recently interviewed by current student Tehani Nguyen who is going into Year 13 (Tehani is also incredibly passionate about film so much so she was founder of the inaugural Future World Film Festival held in Lisbon in June). This engaging conversation explored Paolo’s journey from St. Julian’s to the international film industry, offering insights into his creative process, career milestones, and the challenges and triumphs of working in the industry. 

Interview

Tehani (Interviewer): I’ve read that you obtained a bachelor’s in philosophy and a master’s in French literature. What led you from philosophy and literature into filmmaking?

Paolo Marinou-Blanco (Guest): I guess the answer is theater. After high school—St. Julian’s and then the Lier—I went on to the LSE and then UCL. I was on track to become an academic. My thesis even cross-referenced religion, literature, and philosophy. But I had always done theater from a very young age—starting around 11—as an actor and then a director. Parallel to my studies, I kept working in theater, and with scholarships supporting me, it allowed me to live and explore that world creatively.

Tehani: How did your experience at St. Julian’s shape you?

Paolo: Mostly through the academic demands. It was a place that challenged us—there was support, but we were expected to manage the workload and be responsible. There was no coddling, and I appreciated that. Also, the friendships and support group I formed there continue to this day. Your friends inevitably shape who you are, and that definitely shaped me.

Tehani: What was it like attending St. Julian’s?

Paolo: Can I say it was a lot of fun, or does that sound frivolous? It really was a lot of fun—especially because I had just arrived from South Africa, where I’d lived for four years. St. Julian’s was a great introduction to Portugal, a country I’m partly from but didn’t know that well. It was a really meaningful experience.

Tehani: Did you have any favorite teachers?

Paolo: That’s a tricky one! I remember Ms. Vin—I loved her. And also a Portuguese teacher—I think it was El... or Isabel Taylor? No, no, wait—Stiff? Yes, she just retired two years ago, right?

Tehani: Yes! I'm actually a former student myself

Paolo: Wow! A pure product of the school. Maybe you should interview her!

Tehani: [laughs] Definitely. So, how did your internship with Spike Lee influence your career?

Paolo: It taught me that there are always many solutions to production problems. At film school—this was during my master’s at NYU, where Spike Lee was a professor—we were taught to pay attention to every frame, to be precise. And Spike definitely does that, but he also taught us how to stay flexible. If it rains, or the camera can’t fit in the corner, or an actor falls ill—you adapt. He did it masterfully. That flexibility while maintaining vision really stuck with me.

Tehani: What inspired Dreaming of Lions, your new film?

Paolo: It was a combination of things. My father went through a painful illness before he passed away. He wanted it all to end quickly, but we—his family—and the doctors kept prolonging his life. That raised questions for me: is life always worth living, or only under certain conditions? I wanted to explore that from his perspective.

But I don’t see the world in purely dramatic terms, so I infused humor into it. That’s how the approach took shape—tackling a heavy issue with emotional range. In the process, I realized it was more daring and more difficult than I expected—especially in how different audiences respond to it.

Tehani: How has your multicultural background influenced your filmmaking voice?

Paolo: Great question. The film is a co-production between Portugal, Brazil, and Spain. I’m partly Portuguese and Spanish, and I’ve lived and worked in Brazil—I joke that I’m an honorary Brazilian.

On a surface level, speaking many languages and living in different countries helps me work easily across cultures. On a deeper level, I think culture can sometimes be something people hide behind—it gives easy answers or fixed attitudes. Having multiple cultural perspectives makes you strip that away and see things more clearly. Maybe that sounds pretentious, but it’s how I’ve experienced it.

Tehani: Are there recurring themes in your work?

Paolo: Yes, I return a lot to themes like death, illness, the passing of time, and the need for friendship. I think it all starts with the awareness that life isn’t eternal. That realization leads to those other themes.

I remember an uncle in Greece—kind of a couch philosopher—showed me a giant clock when I was five or six and told me, “You see the second hand? Every second is gone forever.” That never left me. But my work isn’t bleak—I also focus on how friendship, love, and laughter make life meaningful within the time we have.

Tehani: How do you decide which festivals are right for your films?

Paolo: For Dreaming of Lions, it premiered at the 2024 Black Nights Film Festival. They actually supported the project early on—I submitted the script to one of their markets, and they followed its development. So sometimes, it’s about building a relationship with festivals that understand your vision from the beginning.

And I—you can—there's a competition at script level where you get a bit of financing, and—'cause it’s always about, you know, finding the funds. That’s a very difficult part of it all. So I submitted the script, and it won the development award. Then it was selected for a showcase in Cannes while it was still a work-in-progress. It was a natural fit to premiere at Black Nights—they’d been with the project from the very beginning.

Tehani: And for your past works, do you have a favorite festival you like to submit to?

Paolo: Uh, I mean—I’ve never had a film in Berlin. I’ve had projects in the market, but I love that festival. I love Berlin. Where else? Strangely, I really like going to the Red Sea Film Festival.

Tehani: Oh! I’ve never heard of it.

Paolo: Yeah, it’s in Saudi Arabia of all places. But I like that more for the anthropological experience. It completely challenged a lot of stereotypes I had about the country. Not that I think it’s, you know, a paragon of human rights. But it’s such a young and enthusiastic population—they love film. It was kind of exciting.

Other favorite festivals? San Sebastián is a great one. But I’m biased, obviously.

Tehani: That’s where nationalism comes in.

Paolo: Exactly, yeah. [laughs]

Tehani: And what is it like balancing your roles as a writer, director, and producer?

Paolo: I really like it, actually. It only brings benefits for me. When I write, I’m not thinking of the cost. And that’s important—you cannot write your first, second, or even third draft thinking of a budget. Just write what you want. If you want a scene on an aircraft carrier, write it—you’ll deal with the reality later.

Being a writer and director, those go hand in hand. I’m already imagining the artistic vision as I write. Maybe not the exact shot list, but the feel.

Then as a producer, I do a kind of final pass. If you’re also producing, you can make cuts that don’t compromise the story. An external producer might say, “Cut these two scenes.” But I might say, “No, we need those—let’s cut this one or scale it down.” You can solve problems creatively.

Tehani: So different roles come with different mindsets—methodical, pragmatic...

Paolo: Exactly. And the best producers are creative, too—not just number crunchers. They read scripts, give character notes. That’s how I try to approach producing other people’s work as well.

Tehani: What advice would you give to emerging international filmmakers?

Paolo: [laughs] Aside from “give up and go into finance”? No—seriously, I’d say: distinguish between the American system and the rest of the world. The U.S. runs on private investment, even for shorts. The rest of the world often has public funding and development labs.

That has pros and cons. In the U.S., it’s fast but highly commercial. Outside, you have more creative freedom, but there’s a bureaucratic grind. So: if you’re working outside the U.S., start with shorts. I went straight to features—kind of wish I hadn’t. Shorts let you practice and grow. Then: submit to labs and markets. Even at treatment level, you can start building a network. You’ll learn from mentors and peers—and it strengthens your work.

Tehani: I love that. Every day I see emails about new festivals or projects—it’s amazing that young filmmakers have that kind of access now.

Paolo: Absolutely. It’s like a social platform, but for art. It’s fantastic.

Tehani: So how does writing for studios differ from writing independently?

Paolo: Studio work has more constraints. You’re writing to fit a market. Independent work has more freedom, but fewer resources. It’s always a trade-off.

Tehani: A few more personal questions—was there a moment when you felt like you’d “made it”?

Paolo: Hmm. I was lucky. After my master’s at NYU, I got funding for my first feature in about three years. But then I pivoted to writing—my first feature didn’t go how I wanted. Economically, writing was more stable, especially after moving from Portugal to L.A. I had no financial support, so I had to figure it out.

Tehani: Really—nothing?

Paolo: Well, I had a scholarship for my MFA that helped with tuition, but New York is expensive. In L.A., I went through a rough patch—eight months doing odd jobs. I once made videos for a toy company, driving to weird remote labs. It was surreal.

Tehani: That’s wild. But it clearly pushed you.

Paolo: Yeah. No safety net really makes you hustle. It’s not ideal, but it motivates.

Tehani: Are you supported by any Portuguese investors now?

Paolo: No. If you know any—send them my way! Portugal has mechanisms, like tax-incentivized funding, but it’s underused. People have found… let’s say, other ways of managing taxes.

Tehani: [laughs] And when it comes to writing, how long does a script usually take?

Paolo: Never under three months. I’ve done one in a month—don’t recommend it. The WGA usually gives you three to four months for a first draft. Deadlines help, even if you throw it out later.

Tehani: Do you have a specific place or process for inspiration?

Paolo: Not a place, but I usually get a jolt—a feeling, an image, a premise that resonates. Then I dig into why. From there, it becomes a story. I also draw from literature and cinema.

Tehani: Who are some of your biggest influences?

Paolo: Kafka, Gogol, Beckett—writers who bend reality and make you think sideways. They always push me to see the world differently.

Paolo: Any books that stuck with you?

Tehani: Yeah, I really liked Crime and Punishment. It’s such a powerful novel. But the characters—so many of them! And with Russian names, it’s like... how do you keep track? They each have three different names!

Paolo: Have you ever tackled War and Peace?

Tehani: Not yet. But I did read Anna Karenina.

Paolo: Of course. Those Russian genealogical trees—they’re intense.

Tehani: Right? By the end, I was just like, “Why couldn’t they be called Sam or Mike or Johnny?” It gets overwhelming. And then there are the nicknames...

Paolo: Still, they’re masters of storytelling.

Tehani: Definitely.

Paolo: Would you ever consider writing something based on your experiences here—at school, in this community? Maybe combining them with other themes?

Tehani: I’ve thought about it, yeah. Maybe something about the international community—something set in Lisbon that weaves in the schools: St. Julian’s, the Lycée, St. Dominic’s...

Paolo: How long were you here?

Tehani: Just three years.

Paolo: Did you attend St. Dominic’s as well?

Tehani: Yes!

Paolo: Got it. Are you considering a career in film or writing?

Tehani: I’ve written a few scripts. I really love film—I wanted to be a director for a while. But I’m not sure I’m creative enough.

Paolo: That doesn’t necessarily mean you’re not creative.

Tehani: Maybe. I think I just enjoy producing—bringing people together, making things happen. I feel like other people are much more talented than I am. For example, I co-created a photography exhibition with my friend Camilla—it’s online and showcases young photographers’ work. But I wouldn’t call myself a great photographer. I just love art.

Paolo: Let me say this: producing is absolutely a creative discipline. It’s a different skill set, but no less valuable. And don’t underestimate yourself or overestimate everyone else.

Tehani: That’s true. I try to tell myself, “If someone else can do it, then so can I.”

Paolo: Exactly. But yes, it can be tough to make things here.

Tehani: Yeah. I wrote a script inspired by Moonrise Kingdom—I wanted to create something similar, set in Carcavelos, with two kids falling in love and running away. But I couldn’t find any actors. I contacted the drama department, I had a camera but no mics... so many logistical problems.

Paolo: That’s always the tricky part.

Tehani: I think people believe in you more when you come with a concrete plan. Like with the festival—We had a platform, a theme, prizes, a venue. Once that was in place, people started believing in it and getting involved.

Paolo: Exactly. And now that you’ve got this platform and people’s trust, why not use it for your own creative work too?

Tehani: Yeah. I think about that a lot. I guess the worst thing would be regret—thinking years later, “Why didn’t I try?”

Paolo: Absolutely. So much of life is just showing up and being ready to fight for your ideas.

Tehani: It’s just hard figuring out what path to follow—what’s worth getting up for every day.

Paolo: Of course. That’s a big question for anyone at your stage.

Tehani: Still, hosting this festival has been a dream. The generosity has been overwhelming. I didn’t know that many people at first, but everyone kept connecting me to someone else. The team worked entirely pro bono at the beginning—just offering their time. And then we had these incredible jury members—people I had admired for years. I remember thinking, “I used to watch your videos as a kid!”

Paolo: That must have been so surreal.

Tehani: It really was. But at the same time, I know that’s not always how careers work. People have been so kind, but you do have to fight for what you want.

Paolo: Exactly. You have to be ready to put in the work. And if you’re not, you won’t even be ready when luck comes your way.

Tehani: That’s such a great point.

Paolo: It’s not all bleak though. People do help. And you can get lucky—but you have to go after it. You can’t just wait around.

Tehani: Definitely.

Paolo: Are you Portuguese?

Tehani: I’m French—French-Vietnamese.

Paolo: Ah! And you have a French passport?

Tehani: Yes.

Paolo: Then you’re in a great position. French funding is fantastic.

Tehani: I love French cinema, but I don’t know it very well yet.

Paolo: No worries. I’m working on a TV series with a French screenwriter, and we’ve been able to apply for lots of French funding. The opportunities there are incredible—especially compared to countries like Portugal or Greece.

Tehani: Portugal is changing, but yes—it’s slow.

Paolo: That’s why I left after my first feature. I used to joke that I was either going to harm myself or someone else if I kept trying to make films here.

Tehani: Did you go to the U.S. at 18?

Paolo: No, later—for my master’s. I was actually born in New York, just by accident.