Zeberiah Newman & Michiel Thomas On Igniting Hope for Change with ‘Relighting Candles: The Tim Sullivan Story’

It only takes one singular story to change our perspective on a larger issue. We learn empathy and compassion from shared, lived-in experiences, and even if that change seems impossible, we can take comfort in comparing those stories with someone else. Relighting Candles: The Tim Sullivan Story is a truly special film that centers on a West Hollywood icon and how he has pledged his life, business, and heart to giving back to his community. Directors Zeberiah Newman and Michiel Thomas have done us all a service by introducing us to Tim Sullivan.

If you have been struggling with addiction or find yourself with no place to go, Tim Sullivan will open his doors to you. Sullivan has operated his candle shop since 1998 in West Hollywood. Christmas is an especially busy time of year, but all of the people who work at his boutique are in a state of recovery. Relighting Candles is about recognizing the strength that you have in yourself and finding the extra space in your heart to give to someone less fortunate than you.

Newman and Thomas approach their documentary in a very sincere way. We first learn Sullivan’s history with his own coming out and how he embraced his identity. When it came time to confront his own burgeoning relationship with alcohol, Sullivan speaks plainly and without hyperbole. The directors knew that they should introduce us to Tim first.

“I am in the sober community with Tim, and that shop has been ground zero for a lot of people’s early sobriety,” Newman says, at the start of our conversation. “A lot of times with getting sober in Los Angeles, if you are getting out of jail or coming in from the streets, you aren’t the most equipped person to get a job at a bank or a restaurant. What Tim offers is not just a job with a steady, under-the-table paycheck, but it allows you to reintroduce yourself to basic responsibility, a work environment, and re-growing your self-worth. I’ve known of this candle shop as long as I have been in LA, and he’s an icon in the community. We got very lucky with the gentlemen that were working in the shop last year. They were very open. Gannon is still there, and he is kind of the acting manager of the shop. Tim’s personality is well-known in these anonymous rooms. Michiel and I got lucky with the people who were involved, and it’s a new group this year.”

“I got to know Zeb when we both had films at Outfest a few years ago,” Thomas says about wanting to be part of this story. “I had Gemmel & Tim, and he had Right to Try, and we had a character in common in each of our films but they were totally different stories. We have been fans of each other’s work, and when Zeb approached me, I was automatically interested in. Homelessness and drug addiction is a huge problem in Los Angeles—you can’t leave your house without seeing tents. You see the crisis everywhere. Out first interview with Tim was about eight hours long.”

Think about how gay and queer men had to operate during the ’50s and ’60s. There were no bars with RuPaul’s Drag Race night, and gay men had to keep a lot of themselves private in fear of ridicule and, in some cases, violence. The directors wanted to show how alcoholism can be rooted in loneliness or isolation, but, at the same, they let Sullivan speak to the camera and let the film be filtered through his personality and lightness.

“Tim looking into the camera was such a conscious decision,” Thomas says. “We used an eye direct system, so it’s like a teleprompter. He looks straight at the camera but there is a mirror there so he could be looking at Zeb or I which made it like a one-on-one conversation. We wanted to create a warm setting like a grandpa telling the story of his life around the holidays.”

“In Tim’s day, there wasn’t crack or fentanyl, and I definitely think the disease of addiction is rooted in isolation and being separated from other people,” Newman explains. “It can create this dynamic with a substance that fills a void. That underground era had to be such a wild and fun place to be, but it wouldn’t be surprising that these people would also be leaning on alcohol and any drugs they could get their hands on. The other thing to take this step forward is that Tim is 83. I don’t know how many gay men of his age that you will see walking around West Hollywood right now. That’s why he’s so visible now. It almost feels like a unicorn—we don’t get to see people like him everywhere we go.”

There is a brief shot of the side of Sullivan’s fridge, and there are a few I VOTED stickers still stuck to the side. It’s a small detail, but Newman was quick to point out that Sullivan’s own home provided a lot of insight of who Sullivan is and how he pledges himself to activism and rehabilitation.

“His home is filled with history,” he says. “In the early 2000s or late ‘90s, Tim had an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting every Wednesday night, and about forty men would go there. When COVID hit, it disbanded. So many people came up to me to tell me that they went to his house meetings, and it felt like a historical landmark. You can feel that energy when you’re in his house. There are many different places to sit.”

In one of the film’s best moments, the directors wanted to show how long Sullivan has been a part of the West Hollywood family and show how his business continues to grow. In a seamless montage, Sullivan shows us around his shop, his workers busy and the back room area stacked to the ceiling with candles and boxes. Thomas attributes that moment to mountains of social media and their collaboration with their editor.

“That montage is a credit to our editor, Leah Turner,” Thomas reveals. “We had that multiple hour interview with Tim, and she paired it with all the footage we had from his commercials. I call her Speedy Gonzales, because she put it together so quickly. I don’t think we made many changes.”

“There was an earlier version of the film that, after we watched it, we decided we wanted to see more of Tim in it,” adds Newman. “We went back into Tim’s Facebook but also people who knew him or people they were reaching out to us when they knew we were making this film. We wanted to fill the film with as many different parts of Tim that we could find. There was so much that we didn’t use, and we had a lot of choices, honestly. This is a man who has lived a very full life.”

While Relighting Candles shows the joy of finding your community and strengthening your sobriety, it does venture into dark territory. It’s necessary to showing the horrors of addiction, and the film is honest in how it showcases substance abuse as an active fight. Just because you find yourself on your feet doesn’t mean the risk of relapsing isn’t there. It’s a constant battle. One of the shop’s workers, Ray, gave the filmmakers permission to show one of his darkest moments when he found himself on the ledge of his apartment building.

“We adore Ray, and he is an example of someone who has been in and out of the candle shop,” Newman says carefully. “He has disappeared at different times, and his vulnerability and his willingness to share that struggle was so impressive to us. We needed to be as sensitive as possible. I knew footage of the ledge existed, and I was terrified to ask him. Ray was super forthcoming and he wanted it to be in the film. We wanted to show that even though people clean up, we wanted to remind audiences that these people were some people that you passed on the street. You may have zoned out these people. Ray was in a very high-profile event when he was on the side of his building. They shut down his street, and it was on the news. I wanted him to know that we never wanted to sensationalize that, and the fact that he gave it to us in such an honest way, we wanted to be as gentle as possible. It’s so shocking to see—even now.”

“That a big, important conversation,” Thomas says, after a moment. “There was an original cut where there weren’t as many before and afters pictures of the people who work in the shop. We didn’t want to make it feel like anything was sensationalized. We made the decision to include it, because we really wanted to show the difference of hearing those stories versus seeing them. It’s a real reality check for a lot of people. We were very, very cautious. It had to have a purpose.”

“This is legitimately life and death,” Newman says. “I felt like we were underserving homelessness and drug addiction in this city. I love Christmas and I wanted the film to have that flair, but lives are on the line.”

You can find out more about Sullivan’s shop on his website. And order some candles for Christmas!