Storytelling

Where the writer's work ends the director's begins.
Where the director's work ends the actor's begins.
Where the actor's work ends the audience's begins.

That's the deal in the theatre.
In the film world there's an adjustment to be made:
Where the collaborative work of director-actor-photographer ends the editor's begins.

I've had a very difficult relationship with editing for the past few years. It has a lot to do with the expectations I've put on myself and my films. As soon as they have revealed themselves to be anything less than my vision, I've abandoned them to a purgatory of unfinished projects.
Things are changing. First off, I'm willing to learn from the work that I've done up to now and accept its flaws. Secondly, I am willing to embrace the discovery of happy accidents in the editing phase of filmmaking.

It's going to happen slowly. That's how writing used to be for me. My directing preparation process once required weeks for even a short film.
In the seventh grade I watched the lunch time basketball games from outside the cage. The next year I was the best player on the court. That happened because I had a basketball in my hands at every waking moment. So much so that years later my mom told me that whenever she heard a ball bouncing she still thought it was me coming home from the park or gym.

I miss those early mornings in Alberta Park circa 1979. All by myself shooting jumpers, running drills.
From U-C-L- AAAAAA- A! Neal, Neal, Neal Corl, Corl, C-orl,orl,orl!
And countless buzzer shots. 3-2-1! Corl hits it! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The crowd goes crazy.

I have a Super 8 movie I made of my best friend Jeffrey Maxwell and I playing basketball in the park back then. I have a big bouncy white boy fro. When I dribble, I hang my off hand real low and loose like some sort of pubescent blacksploitation pimp. I slink more than I run. I look absolutely ridiculous. But I felt like the baddest white boy in the hood.

¡viva!
Signore Direttore