“It’s lonely. There’s nobody else out here,” one of the people Caitlyn Greene finds in “The Diamond,” visiting Crater of Diamonds State Park in Pike County, Arkansas where the discovery of any gems is rivaled by the knowledge that anyone getting their hands dirty looking for them isn’t alone. The only place on earth where the public can bring their shovels and freely look for the shinier leftovers of the ancient volcano that once resided there, the park invites the curious to dig beneath the surface, but Greene encourages those she meets to go even deeper as the film shows that the pursuit of treasure is often a means of taking one’s mind off of something else, coming across an army vet who suffers from PTSD, sisters who have grown closer over the years after surviving a chilly childhood with unaffectionate parents, and a former addict whose partner gave her a new lease on life.
Although the wide open sky that Greene captures would seem to hold as much promise as what’s in the dirt, the notion that something’s always just out of reach for the amateur miners floats through “The Diamond,” feeling both daunting and enervating as it lives on the precipice of a breakthrough. With canny camerawork that mirrors the process of such excavation, starting out at a distance and moving closer and back when perspective is needed, the film covers a tremendous amount of ground in 16 minutes as the lost souls who feel as if they have had to go through life alone realize a kindred spirit can be seen just across the plot of land and those already with a partner appreciate what they have, whether or not any other bounty presents itself. Following the film’s premiere last fall at the Camden Film Fest, “The Diamond” made its way online via The New Yorker and Greene kindly indulged a few questions about how the film came about and the craft it took to turn into something flawless.
What led you to Crater of Diamonds State Park?
I came across an article online about the Park and was immediately fascinated. A diamond-bearing field in rural Arkansas that’s open to the public — how did I not know this place existed? I have a real soft spot for roadside Americana and unusual places that gather people from all walks of life, especially ones in the South, where I was born and raised. But beyond that, the metaphor of this place really resonated with me — all of these people searching tediously in a field of dirt for something so small and unlikely, and the sense that the diamonds offered a connection to a deeper, untouchable part of our world. I wanted to know who I’d find in the field, and what brought them there.
Was it pretty random as far as a time of year to visit or meeting the people that you did?
It was totally random. In planning production, I aimed for a week in spring/early summer to avoid intense weather that might dampen people’s appetite for long, outdoor conversation. I planned our shoot to span a week and a holiday weekend, which had very different crowds. For six days in May, the DP and I showed up from open until close, walked around the field, and approached folks we were drawn to. I didn’t have any prescribed variety in mind but naturally wanted to talk to all kinds of folks. It was peak people watching. In the film you see probably half of the people I ended up interviewing. In the edit, we included only older people, but I did talk to some kids and families as well.
Did anyone or anything take you in a direction that you may not have anticipated with this?
The Park has some “old timers” and serious regulars, a couple of whom you see in the piece, but it’s largely a pretty touristy place, and it certainly has some of that quirky Americana feel. I went into it thinking the film would reflect some of that quirkiness. The first person I sat down and talked with was Elaine, the woman in the film whose husband had suffered a stroke. The next person I spoke with was Terry, the lonesome veteran. It became apparent pretty quickly that the tone and motivations of the people I was speaking with were far from what I had imagined. In my conversations, I tried to meet them where they were, rather than forcing the interviews along a predetermined track. And then we let those interviews inform the tone in the edit. I always knew I didn’t want the piece to be about the literal search for diamonds, but it still certainly took a different direction tonally than I anticipated.
The shot selection is fascinating, and I imagine you had some idea beforehand of how this could cut together as far as showing the wide view of things versus the intimacy of people getting their hands in the dirt – of course there are those beautiful push-ins on people that split the difference. What was it like figuring out the presentation of this place?
I have an editing background, so I think there’s part of me that’s always thinking about how things will cut together and what we need for coverage. For this, I knew I wanted to create space and widen our perspective between intimate interview moments, and that we’d also just physically need ways to move through the single, wide-open location. While filming, we were as intentional as we could be based on overall feeling, intuition, and our experience with each subject, but we of course didn’t yet know the specifics of how shots would be used or fit together. That all came in the edit.
When history obviously hangs over both this place and these people, but it only gradually emerges in the film, was it difficult to figure out the right balance? It’s a film that very much is in the present tense.
Absolutely. We played around quite a bit in the edit with the amount of context to include. There are a couple early cuts where you learn more about how the diamonds were created, why they’re there, [but] ultimately that felt like a different film. We landed in a place where — I hope — you get enough information to feel grounded in what this place is, but you realize quickly enough that the film isn’t really about the diamonds. Keeping it in the present tense was also about wanting it to feel suspended in time — as if it’s the only place that exists for the people who are there, a mystical place somehow separate from the lives they’re reflecting on.
What’s it like getting to the finish line with this and getting it out into the world?
It’s been wonderful and, for me personally, a bit of a release. Editing this was my project in deep 2020 quarantine, and for several months, it was shared only among a couple key collaborators, and [I] felt especially cut off from the world. It’s been amazing to finally put it out there and see it exist for other people, too. We were very lucky to have an in-person theatrical premiere at Camden and then were acquired by The New Yorker, which allowed us to share the film with a new audience online. Just lots of gratitude, and excitement for what’s ahead.
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