“Cancer is the least interesting thing about them.” It is a striking way to describe the characters at the centre of Sunny Dancer – British writer-director George Jaques’ second feature as a director – but it is also the idea that seems to unlock his entire approach to filmmaking. The film is about young cancer survivors, only it is not interested in making survival their defining characteristic. These are people who flirt, get drunk, fall in love, rebel, make questionable decisions and embarrass themselves. ‘They are figuring themselves out.’ 

And for Jaques, that distinction matters. Having worked closely with the Teenage Cancer Trust, he encountered young people whose lives contained far more than their diagnoses: first kisses, relationships, friendships, parties and all the ordinary rites of adolescence that illness can so easily interrupt. Sunny Dancer begins from that contradiction. What happens when young people who have already confronted something unimaginably adult are finally given the space to simply be young?

The answer is a film that refuses to choose between joy and grief. Bella Ramsey’s Ivy arrives at camp carrying the weight of what she has survived, but the world she enters gives her something she has been missing; people who don’t need an explanation. For a while, cancer recedes into the background, and they get to reclaim the ordinary chaos of being young. It is an especially fitting story for Jaques, who has spent much of his own young life refusing to wait for permission. 

From starting his production company at 16, making his feature debut with Black Dog at 21, and has since worked across writing, directing, producing and acting. Now 26, he finds himself looking back at a decade of filmmaking while making a film about young people being given the chance to look forward. 

1883 speaks with George Jaques about building the characters in Sunny Dancer, the visual language of the film, survivor’s guilt, the complicated relationship between compassion and pity, and why finding your tribe might be one of the most radical forms of hope.

First of all, congratulations on Sunny Dancer. How are you feeling now that it’s almost out?

Quite well, like I’m a little bit hung over today because we had the premiere of the film last night. It was really fun, we had like an immersive version of it, so as you walked into the cinema it said like ‘welcome to camp bitches,’ a check-in desk, James Blunt karaoke, tattoo and cocktail stations and then you watched the movie and afterwards you went outside and we got bucking broncos; it was just amazing. It was such an electric night and Scissor Sisters turned out to support the film which just blew my mind. 

Sunny Dancer is so warm and funny, despite everything these characters are dealing with. When did you know you wanted the story to be driven by joy rather than illness?

I wanted to tell the story about the remission journey about young people really affected by cancer and then get another shot at having a normal life. I do a lot of work with Teenage Cancer Trust. I’m an ambassador for them. But you meet these young people in their units and they’re like they’ll tell you about their first snog and when they snuck their boyfriend or girlfriend in. These are just young people where cancer is the least interesting thing about them. And I was like I want to make a movie about that and that’s really where it started. 

If you’re going to do that, you have to focus on joy. And what I love about these characters in this movie and the people this was based on is they’ve had such an extreme young life already and they’ve been forced to look down the barrel of things that no one should ever have to look down, especially not when you’re that age.

The opening sequence immediately puts us in Ivy’s world, particularly through that rotating camera movement. What conversations did you have with your cinematographer about establishing her perspective that way?

Yeah, most filmmakers, their opening shot would be a big establisher of a house on a street or something epic. And I was like, no, I want you to lead into this movie straight away. So one conscious decision I made from the moment the first logo comes on screen, Olivia Dean kicks in. Because I was like, I don’t want to sit through my company’s logo and embankments and night trains in silence, so instead I had the music the whole way through. 

The beginning of a movie is always tough because the audience is settling in so you have to really lean in. And what I wanted to do with that big corkscrew shot was basically have a shot where you’re like, where are we? But then you’re in a really familiar setting of a home and a child’s bedroom where she’s clearly outgrown that. And there are posters, there’s stuff, there’s Olivia Dean, then the dad comes in, James Norton, and I wanted to make it feel really familiar, but through a fresh lens.

Ivy’s frustration often feels less like it’s about cancer and more like teenage angst—the feeling that no one really understands you. Was that something you consciously wanted to capture?

We all have felt that before. And that was a big thing for me. I wanted this film to be accessible, not just for the young cancer community, but also for anyone that feels like they walked into a room and not felt like they fitted in or have been scared to go on a school trip or because they’re queer or because they’re different or because they think they’re different. 

And then the cancer side, for Ivy, it’s a really niche thing. I haven’t had cancer. My mom had breast cancer for years, and it’s, I imagine, one of the loneliest, hardest things. And that’s why survivors’ guilt is such a big part of this movie. And there’s a line in it, which is like, ‘we were all part of a club that no one wants to be a part of.’ And that’s really something that when I was working with Teenage Cancer Trust and working with the young people, I really noticed it was this survivor’s guilt of, I survived and my friend on the ward didn’t and that really sucks and isn’t fair. 

But I got to really sit alongside a lot of young people and my mom and sort of have quite a unique lens into this world. But I still wasn’t in that club, so I will never understand it fully. But I guess that’s why I cast young survivors in the movie and I worked with young people who had had cancer.

Ivy is awkward, stubborn, funny and messy – she’s allowed to simply be a teenager. Was it important to protect that ordinary adolescence despite her extraordinary circumstances?

No, I think I’m fascinated by writing characters that are normal people in quite extraordinary situations. But just because they’re an extraordinary situation doesn’t mean that like any of that other ordinary stuff disappears. What I love about Ivy and all those young characters is that they’re still horny, angry, wild, still want to go out and party, try drugs, drink, sneak out; but they’ve also gone through this whole thing of cancer so they have so much more going on too.

Bella gives Ivy such a layered performance. What did the two of you discover about her during rehearsals or on set that wasn’t necessarily on the page?

Bella and I had never worked together before this, and they’re one of my closest collaborators now. What I was excited about was building this character and film with them. Bella works in a way that they want to know. They want the characters to feel like a real person. So Bella and I would spend hours going through what music they listen to, files of like what A-Levels that Ivy did, what GCSEs, what sports they used to like doing.

I gave that to the costume and production design department, and we started to sort of put that softly into the film. So in that room at the beginning, there’s stuff from Bella’s version of that character. And the bag they packed to camp, there are little badges sewn onto towels and onto the bag. 

Ivy’s parents are incredibly loving, but you can also feel how powerless they are. How did you approach those family dynamics without tipping into melodrama?

Family dynamics are so fun to write. What’s so cool about any family situation is there’s highs and lows, there’s bits where you’re arguing but then there’s bits where you’re giggling a minute later. I think it was about letting those two things be true at once. For Ivy’s parents Karen and Bob, when Ivy’s grumpy they have to allow space for that, because she’s gone through this awful thing, they have to be extra kind. 

The film draws an interesting line between compassion and patronising someone. Why was that tension important for you to explore?

Yeah, I think there’s a big mistake at the moment that people pity and patronize young people that have gone through cancer. You can’t say kids or brave. You don’t want to use these words. I was very aware of that and I wanted that to be in the film. 

But what people make a big mistake is just because you’re not patronizing or pitying them doesn’t mean they don’t want love and that’s a really important thing it’s like they still need support and that can be not patronizing too. It can look like, “Hey do you want to come to this party tonight?” Even if they know they can’t, it’s still they’re invited. And I wanted to get that in the film. 

The camp becomes a space where these young people can flirt, rebel, make mistakes and simply be teenagers. What interested you about creating that space?

In terms of just a place where they can be, what I find so exciting is now that I finished the film, I knew camps like this existed in Australia, for young survivors and stuff. And there’s some in Ireland, but I didn’t know about any in the UK. And then I got reached out to you by a real life version of this camp called Flynn’s Barn, who we’ve also done a partnership with on the film. And these young people get to go to the Lake District and be part of a community that understands them in a really intimate way. 

There’s that line later in the film where Bella’s character Ivy goes,” here I’m just Ivy not Ivy with cancer,’ and I think that’s so wicked. These places are so important for young survivors, but the problem is they’re so underfunded because of course most of the funding goes into the treatment and that’s really important too. What these camps do is bring sex education classes in because they had missed out on that school and hair workshops around how to give nutrients back to your hair and all these things. So I’m so proud that we got to shine a little light on those places that exist and need support.

The film moves between comedy and heartbreak so naturally that neither ever feels forced. How did you find that balance, both on the page and later in the edit?

I think for me it was about both things really true of life. When you’re going through something like cancer as a family there are such funny moments that shouldn’t be but are. I never wanted to not be sincere and show respect to the cancer bit. 

We wanted to dance between cancer, between the heavier stuff and the comedy and flip between and maybe do it in the same scene. And then in the edit, it was then going like, okay, when does that whiplash moment feel too much? Because what you don’t want to do when you’re doing that is undercut the emotion and become too sentimental, cringy and melodramatic, as you said. So it’s a really fine balance. I was also really lucky to have Caitlin, my editor, with me because she had obviously gone to these camps and had cancer.

Your cast comes from very different backgrounds and levels of experience. How did you create an environment where they could feel like one group?

That young cast is everything because you’ve got Jasmine Elcock who plays Maisie. It’s her first ever film. And then Bella Ramsey who’s been doing it for 10 years, so you’ve got people in different stages of their career but ultimately in this movie are in one group. We rehearsed, lived and shared cars to work together. They basically got to go to summer camp for real and  make this feel like the most fun job in the world because they just all trusted me and trusted each other really explicitly. 

And then with the sort of like older roles, you know, James Norton, Jess Gunning. Shalom Brun Franklin and Neil Patrick Harris was about it was about sort of like making them part of that young group and finding performers that would just celebrate those young actors and not try and steal the limelight. It was very much always Ivy’s story and this group of young people’s story. 

Without spoiling the ending, the film eventually brings us back to the realities beneath all that joy and freedom. Why was it important to bring that weight back into Ivy’s story?

When you go into a cancer movie, you expect someone’s going to die. And there’s a moment in this movie where you go, wow, like all these kids have been the time of their life, you know, and that’s really great. Cancer takes such a backseat and they’re joyous, having fun and they’re going through all these things.

But then I also wanted to really show the impact of cancer but also show the long-term impact of cancer that actually people do pass away later on because chemotherapy makes a heart weaker or like the side effects of that stuff.

I think I wanted people to leave dancing and feel so lucky to be here when they left the cinema and have just gone on a journey with this character. But it felt really important to me that the audience got to witness grief and go through a journey with Ivy because that is part of that club. What I didn’t want to do was just put something in there for shock factor. I was very aware that I didn’t want it to feel like a plot point and a gimmick rather, a journey.

You’re only 26 and you’ve already worked as a writer, director, producer and actor. How have those different roles shaped the filmmaker you’ve become?

When I started my company I was 16 right and my company turns 10 next year and I feel so greatly proud of everything we’ve achieved this last decade. I looked around at the party at the Sunny Dancer stuff this week and I was like, Kylie Minogue came to a fucking screening and Scissor Sisters were there and all the coolest young actors in the UK were in the room and was like wow, if only little George, when he was 16, knew this was where we were going to be.

When I started writing, producing and directing and acting, that was with theatre. And I made my first theatre play then and I put it on in the band Railway Arch and it was really hard. And I think because I do all four of those jobs, I feel it so deeply because I know how hard it is as a director to get a film made because of the producing; as a writer how hard it is to get your writing set up; as an actor how hard. 

The biggest thing that’s happened is when I was doing those lead roles with The Third Day or The Serpent Queen or A Time Called Malice or One Punch or whatever it was. It was the people I met and getting to be on set and work under like Jude Law or watch Samantha Morton acts. That stuff just really made me the director I am and I’m so grateful to have had those opportunities. 

Black Dog introduced audiences to your voice as a filmmaker, while Sunny Dancer feels like an evolution of it. Did making your second feature change your confidence, or simply give you new things to worry about?

A little bit of both. When we got the finance and we got it set up, I was like, wow,  I’m a real director now; I got to do it again. I got nominated and won awards for it and that was amazing. I was a kid: 21 when I directed it and I’m so proud of it.

But then people, when you do work like that, they have more expectation and then it’s scary because then all of a sudden you’re like, how do I grow from Black Dog? And the step up from that to Sunny Dancer was really big. Not just the actors but the scale, the size, the release, everything. Opening Berlin to Neil, it was all huge. 

But I think where I’ve really gotten to in a comfortable place in my career is I don’t have to jump so high. Actually, I might pivot and go back to the small film or want to go do something massive. And as you’ve said I feel so lucky that I just turned 26 and that I hopefully will be making movies into my 80s and my career will change and what’s important to me will change and the stories I tell will change.

Hope runs quietly through Sunny Dancer, but it never feels naïve or forced. Has making this film changed your own understanding of what hope looks like?

This film’s changed my life in every way, not just career, it’s changed me as a person really intrinsically. I feel so hopeful for the future. There was a time in my life that I didn’t enjoy when I was at school and hope was a big thing that I sort of was trying to discover and find. And I think what I found so inspiring around this process is not just the actors and the collaborators on screen, but it’s the young people who have gone through this who I’ve got to meet along the way, who remind me about how fucking lucky I am to have my work, my life, my everything. And I feel so excited about what’s next.

I’m excited that I got to cast two young survivors in the film that now have agents and are smashing it. I mean what’s been really cool with Sunny Dancer is we’ve left a bit of a legacy. I think for me hope and joy and pride is that I don’t know if I’ll ever do something in my career where I’m so proud of the work we did with Teenage Cancer Trust. 

And I mean this with my heart, proud that I got to tell the story of young survivors in a really authentic way that they’re proud of. I will always be proud of that. And I think for a lot of people watching the movie at the moment, they leave feeling how lucky we are to have our health and they also leave relating to it because we’ve all felt othered at some point in our life. And I think this movie, like the good 90s ensemble movies like The Breakfast Club and Goonies, reminds you that you don’t need to change, that you will find your tribe. They’re out there, however weird, cool or everything in between they are. 

I really hope audiences discover this and go watch it in the cinema together, share laughs, share tears and just have a wild time.

Sunny Dancer is out now.

Interview Stanley Kilonzo

Photography Garry Jones

Styling Andrew Burling

Grooming Daisy Holubowics