IN CONVERSATION WITH INDYA MOORE AND LUKA SABBAT

interview by TIMOTEJ LETONJA

Indya Moore and Luka Sabbat have long occupied the intersections of film, fashion and the contemporary arts, building careers that shape the cultural conversation. In Father Mother Sister Brother, Jim Jarmusch brings them together in an observant dramedy about family, distance and what remains unsaid — a film where silence, awkwardness and intuition do most of the talking.

Luka, you’ve worked with Jim before. Indya, I don’t know if you knew Jim previously. How did you both become involved in this film, and what makes Jim such a special director to you?

Luka Sabbat: I got a phone call saying Jim had written this movie and that, more or less while writing the character, he was thinking of me for the role — which was a huge honour. I already knew Indya from New York; we’re both there, and she works in fashion, and we have a lot of mutual friends. So when this opportunity landed in my phone and in my ear, I was obviously grateful and immediately said yes. We all got bagels in New York, Indya and I went over to Jim’s apartment, did a chemistry read, and the rest is history.

Indya Moore: Yeah, it was really exciting to get the email and then have a conversation with Jim. He explained that he imagined me as Skye, which I was really honoured by. I had worked with Jim before, actually — we collaborated on a fashion film with YSL called French Water. It was really beautiful. I really appreciated being imagined for a role, and especially being imagined in such a human and relatable way. It didn’t feel exclusive to any one identity or experience — it was simply about two twins navigating the complexity of grief. They’re not crying all over the place, but you feel the shadows of loss in the beats between the moments they interact, and the moments they don’t. I really appreciated being part of a film that wasn’t escalatory. It felt anti-climactic in a way — but grounded.

When you first became involved, did you read the whole script, or were you mainly focused on your own segment? And how do you see the relationship between the three stories? They feel quite different, but there are shared elements. Do you see a connection between them?

Indya Moore: I think the correlation is really interesting. I see it almost like a multiverse, where each character is a different version of the same emotional experience. Each vignette feels connected through that.

In the first vignette, the father is very private — shy, a bit awkward with his kids. The siblings are awkward too, but they’re trying to connect. In the second part, the mother is much more present and attentive, and there’s a sense that she’s more engaged with one daughter than the other. Even the contrast between the parents stands out: the mother feels on it, while the father is more distracted or careless. By the time we get to our vignette, where both parents are gone, the siblings are forced to confront what those relationships really were. We spend so much time being frustrated by our parents — dad is slow or secretive, mum is demanding — and then suddenly they’re gone. So how do you reckon with that?

There’s also an underlying question of responsibility. Skye wonders if, had her mum been flying the plane, things would have ended differently. Fathers often appear slightly untrustworthy with serious responsibility, while the mothers seem more reliable. That’s one of the threads I noticed. But I think there are many ways to connect these stories. It really depends on how each person relates to family and loss.

Luka Sabbat: Yeah, and I think the big thematic thread across all three vignettes is that, no matter how close you are to your family, they’re still their own people — and there’s so much about them that you don’t know. In the first vignette, the kids don’t really know their father at all. In the second, the mother doesn’t fully know her daughters, and in our section, these are people who raised us, and yet you realise you maybe only know ten percent of who they truly are. I love that idea — that mystery. It comes through in the sweetness, the awkwardness, and all these small, quiet moments. That’s where I really see the connection between all three parts.

Indya Moore: I love that point, Luka — the mystery of parents. That’s such a big part of it. And we see that amplified when the siblings literally don’t understand why there are multiple passports or forged documents. They genuinely don’t know who their parents really were. So yeah, that sense of mystery definitely runs through the whole film.

Fashion and styling often play a narrative role today. Did wardrobe help you find your character emotionally?

Indya Moore: Definitely. I think Skye embodies a kind of punk energy, but not in a one-dimensional way. We often associate punk with darker tones, ripped fabrics, fishnets, jackets — and all of that is present — but that doesn’t mean she isn’t jubilant or expressive. I don’t think punk excludes softness or vulnerability. For me, the way she dresses also holds her grief. She’s grieving her parents, even if she’s not outwardly emotional about it, and I think that shows up in the clothes. The tones, the textures, the choices felt connected to where she was emotionally, even in moments where she wasn’t speaking much.

Luka Sabbat: For me, it was about simplicity and realism. Billy rides motorcycles, so I actually wore my own engineer boots, which just felt right for him. It was jeans, a jacket — nothing that felt like a costume. That was really important, because the moment it feels styled at the character, you lose something truthful. Even though YSL did the wardrobe, and Vaccarello obviously has an incredible eye, it never felt like fashion for fashion’s sake. It didn’t feel like an advertisement. It felt like clothes these people genuinely wear, and I think that grounded the performances in a really subtle way.

image courtesy of CINÉART

Jim has said he imagined you both specifically for these roles. How much space was there for improvisation or personal input?

I think the way I perform is very somatic. I’m really in touch with how my body feels in a space — the environment, the room, the energy, the clothing — and once all of that comes together, improvisation feels almost inevitable. Not just in physical actions, but sometimes in small, intimate language choices, like Luca using “boobie” as a term of endearment. Those details feel very human to me.

I remember one particular scene where Luca and I shared a hug in our parents’ room. It felt like everything in the story had been building toward that moment, and emotionally it hit me very hard. There was a devastation there that felt real to me, and I was deep inside that grief when Jim came in and said it was getting too dark — that he didn’t want everyone crying, that it wasn’t meant to be that kind of film.

I’ll be honest, I was frustrated, because I felt really in it. But we talked about it. What I tried to explain was the interior experience of Skye. Jim created her from the outside — the structure, the rhythm, the aesthetic — and that’s his role as a director. But Jim isn’t a woman, he isn’t a sister, so there are parts of that interior emotional experience that I felt he needed to trust me with.

What was happening emotionally wasn’t a choice I was making; it felt involuntary, like something Skye was going through rather than performing. And that’s where improvisation lived for me — not as invention, but as response. As letting the emotional truth happen and allowing the scene to breathe through it.

The same thing happened between Luca and me in quieter moments, like when Skye asks if they’re going to be okay. Those exchanges weren’t planned; they emerged through listening to each other and staying present with what the characters were carrying. That’s really how improvisation functioned for me on this film — through trust, connection, and letting the moment lead.

You both have strong connection to fashion and social media. How much does cinema matter today, when attention is shifting to smaller formats and screens? Where does cinema sit in your personal hierarchy, and how do you see its role now?

Luka Sabbat: Personally, I think it’s a double-edged sword. On one hand, it’s incredible that so many people are able to create content and put their ideas into the world. It’s opened doors for young directors — whether they’re posting on YouTube or sharing work with friends — and that accessibility is genuinely exciting. People don’t need permission anymore to start creating.

On the other side, fewer people feel inclined to go to the cinema. And for me, that’s where film really lives. I grew up going to the movies. I love the ritual of it — getting popcorn, sitting down, doing absolutely nothing except watching the film. No phone, no scrolling, just being present with the movie. That experience matters to me.

But times are changing, and there are two sides to every coin. A lot of people don’t have the time to go to the cinema, or access to theatres, or the privilege of spending money on tickets. You have to look at the whole picture and understand that reality too.

For me, though, cinema still holds a really special place. I love film, I love going to the movies — it’s genuinely one of my favourite things to do.