Midlands Filmmaker in Focus: Rebekah Fortune

We're back with another edition of Midlands Filmmaker in Focus, our monthly spotlight on talented filmmakers from the region. This month, we spoke with Rebekah Fortune, director of the upcoming debut feature film Learning to Breathe Underwater, selected for the BFI and British Council Cannes 8 and expected for release early 2026 and a previous participant in both the BFI NETWORK Short Film Fund and Early Development Fund.

Hi Rebekah, thank you for joining me. I know that you're currently extremely busy.

First of all, congratulations on being listed in the BFI and British Council Great 8 for the Cannes 2025 showcase with Learning to Breathe Under Water.

It’s an amazing achievement as your first fully financed feature film. At what stage did you come on board to direct the film, and what drew you to the story?

Richard first sent me his script after I put out a call on BBC Writersroom during lockdown. I’d wanted to stay creatively alive during that strange, still time and thought I could at least offer feedback to writers. When Learning to Breathe Under Water landed in my inbox, I opened it not expecting much, then found myself utterly undone. By page one, I was laughing and crying in the same breath, often not sure if my face was wet with tears of sadness or joy.

As an autistic woman, I’ve always lived with the intensity of empathy, sometimes overwhelming, sometimes difficult to translate into the “acceptable” language of the neurotypical world. So when I read Peter and Leo navigating their grief and confusion, through Leo's imagination, I recognised something profoundly familiar. Leo’s view of the world, stripped of artifice and pretence, resonated with me in a way that felt like home. There was no clutter, no adult waffle, just truth. That clarity, that emotional honesty, was irresistible to me as a filmmaker.

Do you have a favourite moment from working on Learning to Breathe Under Water that you can share?

For me, the whole film was a favourite moment.

I run my sets like families; no hierarchy of worth, no one role more valuable than another. I want joy to be the default atmosphere, because that joy shows up in the work. Galway itself instilled that spirit in us, a kind of magic that ran through everything we did.

That said, I’ll never forget the first time I walked into the cavernous airport hangar and saw the house we’d built. It was vast, almost mythic, this structure erected inside another structure. In that moment, the film stopped being an idea and became a living, breathing reality.

What is the jump like going from taking part in the Short Film Fund and Early Development Fund to getting your first fully financed film created?

Did it take you a while, and what hurdles did you have to overcome?

It’s like leaping off a cliff and landing on a new planet; you’re still yourself, still making films, but the atmosphere is different, the language changes. Suddenly, there are financiers and formalities, acronyms and approvals. The sheer number of voices in post-production, often contradicting each other, was the most startling shift.

But through that, I had Jack Tarling, my producer, who was a true partner. His trust, his protection of the process, meant that even in the disheartening moments, I knew I wasn’t standing alone. That support is priceless when you’re navigating the scale of a first fully financed feature.

Before directing, you gained your master's in theatre, beginning your career as an actress. What made you want to switch to directing for film?

Directing was always in me; I ran an Arts Council–funded theatre company for years alongside acting. But at 40, another director looked at my work and said: This is cinematic, why not try film? So I made Something Blue in my back garden for nothing but the cost of feeding the crew. It was exhilarating.

When Channel 4 picked it up and the film started earning attention, I realised this was my path.
That led to Just Charlie, my first feature, again made on a shoestring but carrying so much heart.

It went on to win many awards, including the Edinburgh International Film Festival and Cannes Ecrans Junior, along with worldwide distribution, proving to me that sometimes the leap into the unknown is exactly where you’re meant to land.

How do you approach a set, and what do you do to draw the best from your cast?

I build sets like ecosystems. Everyone matters, from the runner making tea to the lead actor carrying the film. If people feel safe and valued, they do their best work. I encourage bonding between actors, rehearsal where possible, but always keep a flexibility that lets actors surprise me.

The vision has to be clear, but within that vision, I want freedom. When an actor feels the character belongs to them rather than to me, the screen lights up with authenticity. And when a crew feels protected, heard, and respected, they will put their hearts into the work.

Do you have any advice for people reading this who are just beginning their filmmaking journey, especially those who may be neurodivergent?

There’s no single map to filmmaking. Play to your strengths. I started with no technical knowledge whatsoever, but I understood performance. Others come in with lenses and lighting, but no sense of actors. Both routes are valid, just surround yourself with people who complement your blind spots.

For neurodivergent filmmakers, advocate for yourself. Ask for the adjustments you need. It isn’t being difficult; it’s setting yourself up to thrive. And extend that same invitation to your cast and crew, let them know their needs will be met with respect. When people feel supported rather than judged, creativity flourishes. A healthy set of culture always begins at the top.

Why do you think it’s important to give disabled young actors opportunities in your films?

Because disabled actors should be everywhere. On every screen, in every story. Representation isn’t a side project; it’s a necessity. I insist on access coordinators from the very beginning, which not only makes disabled cast and crew feel safe, but often encourages people to reveal hidden disabilities they’ve kept silent about.

Working with disabled young people has shown me how transformative performance can be for them, and also how overlooked their talent so often is. We need both stories about disability and stories where disabled actors simply exist in the world of the film, because that’s the reality of the world we live in.

You often support BFI NETWORK in the Midlands with their sessions, coming on board as a speaker for previous Directors' Labs. Why do you think it’s important to carve out time to do this?

I’m a fiercely proud Midlander, but it’s true, we often get treated as neither North nor South, an in-between place. BFI NETWORK in the Midlands gave me a sense of belonging, a reminder that our region’s stories matter. If I can contribute to that ecosystem, if I can give other filmmakers in the region even a fraction of the support I was shown, I will always make time.

Is there another favourite filmmaker from the Midlands you’re especially excited about right now, whose work you enjoy, that you think we should look out for?

Sophie Black. I love her genre instincts and her relentless drive. She’s carving out a voice that is both playful and precise, and I think it’s only a matter of time before she explodes onto a much larger stage. When she does, I’ll be first in line at the cinema.

Is there a date for the release of Learning to Breathe Under Water?

We’re aiming for early 2026 to begin the festival journey, where it will truly come alive in the shared space of audiences. That’s the moment I’m most excited for: when the film stops belonging to us and starts belonging to everyone else.