TO CATCH
A SIREN

I distinctly remember how my parents used to read me the Anderson fairy tales and stories by Michael Ende, particularly 'Momo' and 'The Little Match Girl'. The latter was perhaps my introduction to the concept of death and when I first read To Catch A Siren, it evoked the same deep emotion from me. The script’s fantastic mixture of current issues told in a fairytale-esque narrative immediately drew me in.

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While the film explores themes of immigration and refugees, at its core, the film simply tells the story of a young girl struggling with grief, unable to comprehend the loss of her mother. And while I thankfully never had to flee a country, I do know what it means to grieve and what it means to escape into a world of imagination (otherwise I probably wouldn’t be a filmmaker). Roya’s way of disassociating from reality, both a curse and a blessing, resonated with me deeply. It also resonated with our lead actress, Layla, who was diagnosed with autism at the age of six. Her ability to inhabit Roya’s inner world shaped much of our approach to the film’s visual language and sound design.

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Stylistically, we sought to create a timeless, storybook atmosphere, allowing Roya’s story to feel universal. Her fantasy world of mermaids gave us space to lean into a dreamlike, ethereal quality, where slow motion, and fluid movement create an almost unreachable beauty. In contrast, sound became a powerful tool to ground us in Roya’s perspective, shifting with her emotions and inner states. And when reality finally breaks through, we abandon our measured, steady camerawork for something raw and handheld, as the waves crash down on Roya just as life does.

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Creating this perfect blend of mythical atmosphere and hard-hitting truth became our ultimate goal, no matter the challenge. And a challenge it was – from shooting underwater with a child actor to braving the tides of Cornwall, the film really taught us to treat every problem as “just another puzzle to solve”. Ultimately, we wanted to bring audiences as close as possible to Roya’s grief, her imagination, and her hope. Because only by telling these humane stories, by breaking political narratives and instead focusing on the individual experience, can we build empathy and perhaps foster more understanding and open discussion.