Sarah, all your films, Life After You, A Stage of Twilight, Crybaby Bridge, and the one in development, Recluse, deal with serious, dark topics. Why are you drawn to this subject matter?

I wouldn’t call them “dark topics,” but rather “complex topics” – the kind many people tend to feel uncomfortable talking or thinking about. There’s so much surface-level content on streaming platforms right now that, for me, often lacks depth in both story and character. I’m not particularly interested in recycled ideas dressed up with new technology. I’m drawn to stories and that feel honest and lived.

In terms of seriousness, I’m a fairly serious person by nature, though I’m actively working to bring more levity into my writing. But the truth is, not everything is sunshine and rainbows. There are so many unspoken realities that rarely get a voice. It’s in the quieter, often overlooked spaces that I find the most authentic expression of humanity. That’s what compels me to tell these kinds of stories.

There are numerous crybaby bridges around the country, all associated with urban legends about women dropping their babies off the bridge and then taking their own lives. What made you want to turn these tales into a film?

These stories aren’t unique to one place. They show up across cultures and time. In Latin America folklore, there’s “La Llorona,” the “Weeping Woman,” a ghost said to mourn her drowned child and lure others to their deaths. In Japan, you have the “Ubume,” a spirit tied to motherhood and loss, often appearing near water. In Slavic mythology, the “Rusalki” are believed to be the souls of young women who died tragically, frequently by drowning, and are sometimes portrayed as vengeful spirits. Greek mythology gives us the Sirens, which are different in form, but still tied to water, seduction, and destruction. Even William Shakespeare may have drawn on this theme in “Hamlet” when Ophelia drowns herself, an act some scholars interpret as linked to a possible pregnancy.

What draws me to these legends is their universality. They all home in on the same emotional core: love, loss, betrayal, grief, and the consequences of overwhelming desire/love. They’re not just ghost stories, but rather cautionary tales that reflect societal fears and cultural values. For me, Crybaby Bridge was a way to explore those themes through a modern lens, grounding the supernatural in emotional truth and giving voice to experiences that often go unspoken or unheard.

Sarah T. Schwab, front, with cast members Erik King, Sydney Mikayla, Florencia Lozano, and Michael Laurence

How did you find the bridge that would “star” in your film? 

My co-writer Emily Fouraker first took me to the legendary Crybaby Bridge near her childhood home, which is a covered bridge in rural Pennsylvania. It had the right atmosphere, but it wasn’t practical for what we needed. I knew I wanted a moment where a mother could jump off the bridge into the black waters below, which wasn’t possible with covered bridges. We looked at several others in the area, but they either had weight restrictions, or were too busy to film on. My producing partner, Brian Long, and I spent about a week scouting across all of eastern Pennsylvania, trying to find something that felt both remote and accessible to our New York-based cast and crew. Eventually, we found the perfect metal truss bridge in rural Beaver County, PA. It was on state game land, which gave us the privacy we needed (minus the few four-wheeling onlookers who came by to watch what we were doing), and it ended up becoming the perfect “character” for the film.

How does the theme of adoption figure into the film? 

Adoption plays into the film in both thematic and personal ways. Historically, adoption appears in folklore across cultures. In some Native American traditions, for example, there are stories of children being adopted by animals, while in Christian theology there are ideas of supernatural or spiritual adoption through Jesus and believers being considered children of God. I wasn’t consciously drawing on those traditions while writing the script, but they resonate with the broader themes in the story.

More directly, a key member of the Cardinal Flix team is adopted. Over the years, we’ve become close, and they shared their experience of meeting their birth family and the emotional complexity that came with it. Feelings of confusion, anger, loneliness, and detachment were recurring threads in those conversations. Those emotions helped shape Samantha’s character. She’s adopted, pregnant at sixteen, bullied at school, and being uprooted from her life all at once. That creates a lot of internal and external turbulence, which naturally lent itself to the story’s supernatural elements.

Ultimately, I wanted to explore whether the “monster” in the film is something external, or something emerging from within Samantha herself.

Florencia Lozano and Michael Laurence star in Crybaby Bridge

Florencia Lozano stars as Evelyn, the mother of Samantha, the troubled teen played by Sydney Mikayla. You’ve worked with Florencia before. Talk about how your relationship has evolved and why you thought she would be perfect for this film.

Florencia and I co-wrote my first feature-length film, Life After You, in which she also played the lead and I directed. The film was inspired by true events from the book Life After You: What Your Death From Drugs Leaves Behind written by Linda Lajterman. It tells the true story of a suburban family grappling with the loss of their 19-year-old son after a fatal overdoes of heroine laced with fentanyl. Many films about addiction focus on the addict’s journey, but Florencia and I were more interested in the perspective of the loved ones left behind. We worked closely with the Lajterman family who gave us their blessing to tell their story. It was a sensitive subject, and we didn’t always see eye-to-eye on the script. But because of the mutual respect we had for each other, we were able to listen actively and ultimately created something authentic and honest.

That collaboration was a major reason I wanted to work with Florencia again. Beyond our shared history, she’s an extraordinary actor with remarkable emotional depth and intelligence. The character she plays in Crybaby Bridge, Evelyn,” has a significant arc – she begins the film somewhat self-absorbed and gradually evolves into a more open, empathetic, and caring person. I knew Florencia had the range and sensitivity to navigate that full transformation. There was also a natural chemistry between her and the actress who played her adopted daughter Samantha, performed by two-time Emmy-nominated actress Sydney Mikayla. When they had to argue in the script, they rehearsed full-force (to the point where some of the crew were asking, “Is everything ok…?”), and during late-night shoots, Sydney would lay her head against Florencia’s shoulder to take a mini nap in between scenes. In a lot of ways, it felt almost like a real mother-daughter dynamic.

Crybaby Bridge is called a “psychological thriller.” There are so many ways such a film can go. What were you aiming for when you wrote the script?

Many psychological thrillers try to manipulate the audience. I was more interested in unraveling the characters. My background is rooted in drama, so I understand structure and emotional beats. With Crybaby Bridge, I tried to destabilize that to a point. I wanted the characters to feel like they were losing their footing in real time, and for the audience to feel that with them. To get there, I didn’t want overly polished dialogue or performances that felt “safe.” I kept parts of the script intentionally flexible so the actors could bring in their own emotional experiences, or what my mentor and friend Lola Cohen calls their “secrets,” a concept she teaches at NYU and The Lee Strasberg Theatre and Film Institute. That’s where things get interesting – when it stops feeling like performance and starts feeling a little too real. There was always a strong blueprint underneath it all, but the goal wasn’t control, it was truth. And truth, especially in a psychological thriller, is far more interesting and unsettling than anything you can manufacture.

Sarah Schwab with cinematographer Richard Sands

Can you talk about the actual filming? How did the subject matter at times affect the cast and crew?

The cast and crew had a great time with the subject matter, especially with the bridge. It was very spooky, and even though it isn’t technically a real crybaby bridge, we were all still half-looking for a ghostly apparition and listen for a wailing baby. Everyone worked really hard, but the backdrop of a running creek, miles of dense forest, and zero cell service (we even had to rent satellite phones in case of an emergency) gave the shoot a constant sense of thrill and unease. There were also a lot of night scenes in the frigid woods away from the creek, and we’d hear all sorts of unsettling sounds, like foxes screaming, which can sound eerily like a child. Most of the crew was from the city, so this environment was completely new for many of them.

We worked with a lot of the same key crew members from our other films, which created a strong sense of community. It felt like a reunion in many ways – everyone was experienced, trustworthy, and hardworking. New crew member quickly integrated into that culture, and within days it felt like everyone had each other’s backs. People stepped in wherever help was needed, even if something wasn’t in their department, they jumped in.

One of my favorite collaborations was creating the illusion of a live deer eating grass at night. We didn’t have the budget for CGI, and it wasn’t realistic to expect a real deer to show up on cue. So the art department and grips got creative. At one of our locations, there were taxidermied deer heads mounted in a hunting lodge, and the owner allowed us to use one. The key grip mounted it on a C-Stand, hid the base with tall grass, and when I called “action!”, they gently manipulated the head to simulate eating – almost like a ventriloquist act, minus a voice.

Overall, there was a real sense of camaraderie, and some people were even emotional when we wrapped because they didn’t want it to end. That’s always a great feeling.

Sarah Schwab celebrating the film’s “wrap”

A recent article in the New York Daily News, reporting recent box office receipts, said that theaters may be “oversaturated in horror films.” Can Crybaby Bridge defy that trend?

I believe it can because it’s not playing that game. Crybaby Bridge isn’t built on jump scares, creepy creatures, or recycled horror tropes. It’s a psychological story first, grounded in emotion, not spectacle. The tension comes from within the characters, not from something springing out at the audience. What interested me was that uneasy space where reality starts to blur – where perception, memory, and fear start to overlap. There’s an eerie tonal undercurrent and elements of folklore, but everything is anchored in something deeply human.

I wasn’t interested in contributing to noise – I wanted to cut through it. Instead of relying on familiar genre beats, I focused on loneliness, inherited trauma, and the illusion of control. That’s where the real human tension lives. And in my opinion, that kind of psychological honesty is far more unsettling, and far more lasting, than anything formulaic.

What do you hope theater goers take away from the film?

What I hope audiences take away is less about answers, and more about a feeling. Blending the crybaby bridge legend with the very real weight of trauma was one of the film’s biggest challenges, especially on an independent film. But for me, the supernatural was never separate from Samantha. It’s an extension of her, a psychological mirror. Everything the audience sees is meant to raise the same question: is this happening to her, is it coming from her, or at a certain point, does that distinction even matter? Samantha is already in an unstable emotional place, and adolescence only heightens that. Trauma doesn’t always present itself clearly. It distorts. It fractures. And it makes you question your own reality. I want viewers sit in that discomfort. That they leave not with clear answers, but with a lingering unease about how thin the line can be between an external threat and internal unraveling, because sometimes they’re the same thing.

Screenings of Crybaby Bridge:
New Plaza Cinema
@Macaulay Honors College
35 West 67 Street
New York, N.Y. 10023
5 p.m. Saturday, April 11 and 2:45 p.m., Sunday, April 12
There will be a Q&A after each screening with Sarah T. Schwab, Florencia Lozano, Michael Laurence, Sydney Mikayla, Erik King, and Brian Long.

The film can also be streamed on Fandango at Home, Amazon Prime, and Vimeo.
For more information on Crybaby Bridge, go to the website.

Top photo of Sarah Schwab by Peter Baiamonte
All the other behind the scenes photos courtesy of Cardinal Flix