I was going to start this by claiming the master is at rest. Though the only master associated with this blog is resting in eternal peace. I, the journeyman, am at rest. The weekend didn't prove as restful as hoped, though it was productive. I really tried to take the days off, but as usual it didn't work out.
I ran into an old friend that I hadn't seen in nearly twenty years. A running buddy in Portland and California in the late 80s. We were unstoppable. A ghost appeared when I saw him. Whenever I have contact with one of those ghosts it's as if I'm somehow vindicated. Like all the wild stories and anecdotes suddenly have a witness.
See, I was telling the truth.
Ask him, he was there!
J said he blocked most of those stories out when I shared the witness idea with him. I could see the shame in his eyes as he searched mine for the depth of my memory. Oh buddy, he said, we had some crazy times. I feel compelled to hold J's hand through his shame.
Someone told him along the way that we did wrong. Probably one of his three wives. Or all of them. He's cloudy and conflicted, but the love is still there. J was my happy-go-lucky, always ready with a joke, up for anything mate. He jumped on many a grenade and asked me to do the same. No bickering or wrestling for the upper hand. He was always generous with his, You're the man, now check this out's. He had my back.
Wild. J was in the room, car and bed on so many entries into the late 80s virtual black book - Eugene Hilton Psychos, Connie in Vegas, Palm Springs Princess …
He had this Jeep. We would roll down Sunset, Broadway or Haight, stop the Jeep, smile and the most we ever had to do was say, Get in. Vegas, Palm Springs, Santa Barbara, SF, Portland, LA -- we were there taking names. I remember looking over at him night after night, sharing smiles as the girls piled in.
I think in a lot of ways the spirit of the relationship of the main characters in Original Glory is much more based on J and I, than D and I.
I wrote an outline of some new material this weekend. Realism in the tradition of Richard Yates. I suppose I must remember that neither Easter Parade nor revolutionary Road ever made it to the screen. American movie audiences want epiphany, redemption and transformation. So do I, but I also savor staring at the face of naked truth. Writing this i have the answer to the question that I was about to pose. The premise of my new story is that no man is an island or the individual life is not a dream, it's a nightmare.
Glenn has failed to develop relationships to the extent that even his dying mother would rather go into a Convalescent Home than live with him. He prepared his exurban apartment for her arrival only to find she won't be moving in. The next twenty-four hours of his life reveal just how cut off he is from everyone around him and ultimately himself.
I have my only regular blog reader, David Millstone, in mind for Glenn. I definitely want to workshop it with him. I say that more as a precaution to committing to making the film, than any doubts about David.
Glenn works as a hotel desk clerk, so as a no-budget guy I'm trying to stay away from all those, Can I get a hotel to let us shoot?, thoughts. Sometimes no-budget filmmakers get so hung up on getting a location that they forget to ask if it's even necessary to the story. Like, what are they trying to say about things with an element like a location or character. In this case I want to show Glenn in uniformed service of people. There are other ways, but hotels sure are anonymous in their profferance of intimacy. I'll have to put my producer's hat on when the time comes.
Come to think about it, my old buddy J would be an awesome producer. He could sell snow to Eskimoes. I found out that he started the SAG-Aftra agency here in town. They send all of their clients to another acting coach, but J said he had to go down there this week and he'll see what he can do for me.
Funny how the world works. I needed to take care of some nagging car issues and I run into my old pal J R. He takes me down memory lane, has some valuable contacts and gets my back on some car haggling. Oh yeah, I no longer have a big comfy truck and a sporty little wagon for the wifey, but a mini-van to be shared by the growing family.
Oh, the irony of buying a mini-van from J.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Saturday, May 28, 2005
The Grouch and the Brainstorm
Something has come over me. I've had this realization that it may not be worth killing myself to make movies. If I'm overwhelmed all the damn time; how am I going to do masterful work? I'm very likely not.
Going to try to have a bit of fun.
Let go of the judgment.
Work shorter, but more concentrated hours.
Regard the details highly while choosing my battles wisely.
I was having coffee this afternoon and missed a call regarding a credit on a film I worked on that is soon premiering. I didn't do my usual freaking out that I missed an important call. I was having an important coffee. So what, I missed a conference call.
I have a feeling that the producers are not going to honor our verbal agreement for some odd reason. Don't think they would have conference called me to tell me they're sorry for taking so long to get back to me. Anyway, the thought of getting cheated sends me reeling for awhile. Yet it just isn't worth it. I doubt the film is going to be that good anyway. I know what I did. I have other credits on the film and points on the elusive back-end. I took the photo on the poster. And then some.
In the end, the grouch is just not who I want to be.
Do I want to be right so much so that I'm miserable?
Not really.
Sleep well amici,
Signore Dirretore
Going to try to have a bit of fun.
Let go of the judgment.
Work shorter, but more concentrated hours.
Regard the details highly while choosing my battles wisely.
I was having coffee this afternoon and missed a call regarding a credit on a film I worked on that is soon premiering. I didn't do my usual freaking out that I missed an important call. I was having an important coffee. So what, I missed a conference call.
I have a feeling that the producers are not going to honor our verbal agreement for some odd reason. Don't think they would have conference called me to tell me they're sorry for taking so long to get back to me. Anyway, the thought of getting cheated sends me reeling for awhile. Yet it just isn't worth it. I doubt the film is going to be that good anyway. I know what I did. I have other credits on the film and points on the elusive back-end. I took the photo on the poster. And then some.
In the end, the grouch is just not who I want to be.
Do I want to be right so much so that I'm miserable?
Not really.
Sleep well amici,
Signore Dirretore
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Stare fermo
Standing still, waiting to hear from The Gersh Agency about Original Glory's packaging potential. I did dream the night before last that Larry loved it. Comforting to know my subconscious is rooting for me. Larry T, the agent that I've sent it to was instrumental in getting both In the Bedroom and Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind produced. He represents Tom Wilkinson. And my man, Michael Cassidy. There are two roles for Mr. Wilkinson in this. Funny story about Tom and Larry: Larry told Tom he had to do Eternal Sunshine. Tom read it and said he didn't get it. Tom lives in England and prefers to fish rather than work on average films, but he trusted Larry and did Eternal Sunshine. It wasn't until the premiere that Tom went to Larry and said, I got it now. Thanks, that was brilliant.
I looked back over this just now and saw that I had transposed some letters in Glory, spelling a clipped version of Gilroy. In 1990 I dated identical twins from Gilroy, California. One of them, Marsha, was Miss Gilroy and went on to be a finalist for Miss California in 1989. Gilroy is the Garlic Capital of the World. Their father was Sherriff. We never met. In fact the only time I was ever in Gilroy was upon returning from living in Germany in 1987 with my Italian girlfriend Allesandra that went by the name Juanita. Obviously quite another story. Marsha's twin, Martha, rode a motorcycle and rejected beauty pageants. In spite of their differences, they were inseparable and they liked to share. They called me and invited me to take them out one night. Nicky's BBQ was the Wednesday night hotspot in SF at the time. My friends BBQ Brad and John Essen spun rare groove 60s and 70s soul. Every other night of the week it was a soul food joint for the surrounding housing projects.
I rolled up on the big sunburst orange BMW R90 that I had the time with both twins behind me on the seat. There was the usual line down the block. We walked right in, as I did everywhere in those days. We got some beers and said hi to Brad and John. Brad and Marsha had a thing not too long after that, in fact. Anyway I remember standing in the middle of the dance floor with the twins dancing on either side of me. Identical twins. This dude that I didn't know came up and asked the girls how they knew me. They told him, he said cool and bopped away. Later we sat in a booth together. They were staring at me, whispering and giggling. They told me that they were deciding who got me first. My life from 1985 to 1998 was like a movie that immature men would slobber over and try in vain to make their reality.
I'm grateful that I don't try to revisit those years. For all the fame and fortune there was a lot of pain and suffering.
Alas, I'm still standing.
A River Dertchee…
nc
I looked back over this just now and saw that I had transposed some letters in Glory, spelling a clipped version of Gilroy. In 1990 I dated identical twins from Gilroy, California. One of them, Marsha, was Miss Gilroy and went on to be a finalist for Miss California in 1989. Gilroy is the Garlic Capital of the World. Their father was Sherriff. We never met. In fact the only time I was ever in Gilroy was upon returning from living in Germany in 1987 with my Italian girlfriend Allesandra that went by the name Juanita. Obviously quite another story. Marsha's twin, Martha, rode a motorcycle and rejected beauty pageants. In spite of their differences, they were inseparable and they liked to share. They called me and invited me to take them out one night. Nicky's BBQ was the Wednesday night hotspot in SF at the time. My friends BBQ Brad and John Essen spun rare groove 60s and 70s soul. Every other night of the week it was a soul food joint for the surrounding housing projects.
I rolled up on the big sunburst orange BMW R90 that I had the time with both twins behind me on the seat. There was the usual line down the block. We walked right in, as I did everywhere in those days. We got some beers and said hi to Brad and John. Brad and Marsha had a thing not too long after that, in fact. Anyway I remember standing in the middle of the dance floor with the twins dancing on either side of me. Identical twins. This dude that I didn't know came up and asked the girls how they knew me. They told him, he said cool and bopped away. Later we sat in a booth together. They were staring at me, whispering and giggling. They told me that they were deciding who got me first. My life from 1985 to 1998 was like a movie that immature men would slobber over and try in vain to make their reality.
I'm grateful that I don't try to revisit those years. For all the fame and fortune there was a lot of pain and suffering.
Alas, I'm still standing.
A River Dertchee…
nc
Monday, May 16, 2005
In All Fairness
I don't want to edit myself, but I do want to be accountable. My comments regarding the two fellows I'm mentoring have been bothering me. It turns out, the director of the short is very concerned with his son's health. I gave him my support and told him that it might be best to postpone his shoot until he's able to give it his full attention.
As for the other bloke, I remembered that I sent him a link to this blog at one point. I can only say that I didn't intend for him to read my comments about him when I posted them. I've said as much to him, though certainly no where near as brazenly.
There's likely some ethical transgression I'm commiting with my public airing of my frustrations with students/apprentices even if I don't name names.
I will be more conscientious in the future.
For now, I choose not to censor myself in this blog.
With some measure of humility,
nc
As for the other bloke, I remembered that I sent him a link to this blog at one point. I can only say that I didn't intend for him to read my comments about him when I posted them. I've said as much to him, though certainly no where near as brazenly.
There's likely some ethical transgression I'm commiting with my public airing of my frustrations with students/apprentices even if I don't name names.
I will be more conscientious in the future.
For now, I choose not to censor myself in this blog.
With some measure of humility,
nc
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Pessimism -- A Mighty Tool
Ciao amici,
Americans are great dreamers. the optimists of the world. We want something - we dream it, will it, build it, buy it and, or steal it. We're entitled. We are masters of self-invention and re-invention. Our forefathers took great chances, seizing the opportunity to exploit resources and cultures, to make our destiny so abundantly manifest.
We now live in a culture of consumers. We do not clear forests or raise cattle as much as we buy gear and declare ourselves artists. We dream of making art. We affirm our vision with affirmations of self. We can do it.
What is that about? How does one give herself the illusion of the ability to create masterful work so readily? I don't think she does. Not truly. That's why there's so much dreck out there. I think every time one of us makes a film that isn't great, we have succeeded in two things only: lowering the bar and fortifying the cult of individual personality. Both very dangerous prospects, in my opinion.
Am I suggesting no one make films? No. I am asserting that an affirmation, a DV camera, some borrowed funds and a lot of "passionate" people on your crew do not substantiate a well prepared and supported attempt at creating something worthy of objective consideration. Optimism affords the novice the opportunity to toss his hat in the ring. Optimism allows the aspirant to tell herself, I can do this. That's great. I love living in a society and culture so wide open that so many of us have the opportunity to try new things.
Unfortunately, optimism also creates an attitude that one doesn't need training, experience or talent. That he or she will just get a camera and shoot it. They'll get some actors. They'll write a draft of a script. Subsequent drafts will be to correct typos and to make it funnier. Add some comic relief. (Oh boy, don't get me started) Rehearsal will consist of the director (oh how it pains me to grant them the use of a title for which I am working so hard) getting excited to hear and see their words and ideas performed. I do not trust this process. It is fraught with ego. You have a writer that knows nothing of dramatic structure and has no cinematic vision that has had this thing in her head for months or years, or worse yet, the old: We wrote this in two weeks! There she is, just full of hubris and anticipation waiting for you to perform. It's wrong. In so many ways.
The optimistic filmmaker is blinded by his expectations. Maybe an actress finds something really incredible, but needs a little time with it to let it become her own. The optimistic filmmaker doesn't understand anything but his expectations and pushes for the result he envisioned right away. Or the words of a scene are loud and clear, but none of the subtext is coming alive. Or the actors are just sitting and talking in every other scene and there will be nothing for the editor to cut and will be forced to use wipes and fades. As this film is being shot, morale wanes because the actors are being pushed around by someone's vision that soon reveals itself to be specific only in its egocentricity.
The pessimistic filmmaker knows what can go wrong and prepares for it. She knows that the actors are collaborators and she enlists their talent and vision. She knows they need time and to feel supported by her vision. She knows that the film has to cut together and prepares her shots with an experienced Director of Photography. She knows her vision must be developed, tested and tried long before she calls Action and wakes the Beast. She knows what the Beast looks like, his strengths and weaknesses. The Beast loves structure and preparation. Good scheduling, budgeting and casting. Without the forementioned, the Beast eats your days. The Beast gossips. The Beast loses and breaks equipment. The Beast destroys locations. The Beast creates tension in the cast and crew. But give the Beast a little structure and you can mount up with your entire cast and crew. The Beast will carry you home.
I'm working with a couple of first-timers right now. One of them thinks he's shooting a short in two weeks. He has a location. One of three. He has a script. He has one actor of three. He has one crew member, yours truly. (I said I'd shoot it for him and mentor him in the process) I sat down with him weeks ago and told him how to get started. I gave him names and numbers of actors I thought might be good for it. I gave him a storyboard program. I called him yesterday to find out what's going on. He's taking the weekend off, because his son kept him up Thursday night.
The other fellow has a little more going on. He's a good writer with a great script. And I think he has cinematic vision. I'm playing one of the leads in a workshop scene for him. He tells me I'm amazing, that I'm incredible. I appreciate that, but it doesn't make it any easier to suffer through his plodding, muddled rehearsals. I just want to keep doing the scene, because I dread his lack of feedback or the incoherence of it. Supposedly, I'm some sort of producer on it. There's been talk of working together beyond the workshop. For now, I think I'll stick to helping him with the use of my studio and giving him feedback on his directing in exchange for a full producer credit. (I'm still waiting for that deal memo) I suppose it's more my issue than his, but I am not sure I like this arrangement. I'm getting praised for being an amazing director and yet I'm standing by and watching someone struggle mightily at the helm of a very promising project.
Another reason to love Hollywood. There's no sentiment. Sure the movies are sentimental and often unwatchable. It's not about art, it's about marketing movies. Can this movie make money? With so-and-so in the lead and you-know-who co-starring it will get distribution and marketing. Can the guy that wrote this script direct so-and-so and you-know-who? Not a chance. Do the execs say, Aw shucks he really wants to, let's give him a shot? In a word - NO. For all my acting coaching and training and vision, I am going to have to fight for my life to get to direct my first feature that's financed by a studio.
I've worked with first-timers. One movie went to Sundance, got panned (deservedly) and opened for two days in NYC. The DVD releases sometime soon. Another is not finished after two years. The budget has soared. They owe everybody, including me, thousands of dollars. No one I know will work for the director again.
I know my cynicism and pro-Hollywood take makes all the indie filmmakers out there furious. Before you hyperventilate, please tell me of some great films that didn't find distribution. I've been to film festivals far and wide. I've suffered through more indie screenings than I can count. If you make a great movie, it is going to get distribution. If you write a great script, it's going to get optioned.
If you write a script that doesn't get optioned. Rewrite it and try again. This idea that you'll cut out the middle man and make it yourself -- Wake up from that spell. Even if I were to self-produce a $30,000 film, I would get the script out there before I decided it was worthy on my own. Why make it for 30k when you could get 300? Why self-distribute? Go ahead and reinvent the wheel while you're at it.
If you're making exprimental art films, this DIY attitude makes perfecct sense. If you just want to make a movie that's really important to you and you are happy to show it three or four times locally, this can-do optimism is awesome.
I'm talking to the folks out there that dream of being the next Robert Rodriguez. By the way, be careful of what you wish for. Even if you could follow in his footsteps, do you admire his filmography?
DIY is seductive. I was under its spell myself a few weeks ago. It happens to me every year or two. I hear all the talk of this one or that making a five thousand dollar film. All of the 5k and under local films I've seen are dreck. All of the 200k and under local films I've seen are dreck. I've spoken to many of those filmmakers. They express resentment that no one has stepped to distirbute their films or give them the money to make another. Based on what? That they grabbed a hold of the Beast's tail and somehow made it to the end?
I think I'll stick to my guns and continue to patiently develop my craft. I'm a Brother of Cinema, remaining chaste for my Lord until the time is right for me to wed.
So, in the interest of my purity, please don't hand me a script and tell me that you wrote it in two weeks. Please don't hand me a copy of your finished film and tell me the budget or that you shot it over a weekend. And whatever you do, do not invite me to the 48-Hour Film Fest.
High and Mightily,
Signore Direttore
Americans are great dreamers. the optimists of the world. We want something - we dream it, will it, build it, buy it and, or steal it. We're entitled. We are masters of self-invention and re-invention. Our forefathers took great chances, seizing the opportunity to exploit resources and cultures, to make our destiny so abundantly manifest.
We now live in a culture of consumers. We do not clear forests or raise cattle as much as we buy gear and declare ourselves artists. We dream of making art. We affirm our vision with affirmations of self. We can do it.
What is that about? How does one give herself the illusion of the ability to create masterful work so readily? I don't think she does. Not truly. That's why there's so much dreck out there. I think every time one of us makes a film that isn't great, we have succeeded in two things only: lowering the bar and fortifying the cult of individual personality. Both very dangerous prospects, in my opinion.
Am I suggesting no one make films? No. I am asserting that an affirmation, a DV camera, some borrowed funds and a lot of "passionate" people on your crew do not substantiate a well prepared and supported attempt at creating something worthy of objective consideration. Optimism affords the novice the opportunity to toss his hat in the ring. Optimism allows the aspirant to tell herself, I can do this. That's great. I love living in a society and culture so wide open that so many of us have the opportunity to try new things.
Unfortunately, optimism also creates an attitude that one doesn't need training, experience or talent. That he or she will just get a camera and shoot it. They'll get some actors. They'll write a draft of a script. Subsequent drafts will be to correct typos and to make it funnier. Add some comic relief. (Oh boy, don't get me started) Rehearsal will consist of the director (oh how it pains me to grant them the use of a title for which I am working so hard) getting excited to hear and see their words and ideas performed. I do not trust this process. It is fraught with ego. You have a writer that knows nothing of dramatic structure and has no cinematic vision that has had this thing in her head for months or years, or worse yet, the old: We wrote this in two weeks! There she is, just full of hubris and anticipation waiting for you to perform. It's wrong. In so many ways.
The optimistic filmmaker is blinded by his expectations. Maybe an actress finds something really incredible, but needs a little time with it to let it become her own. The optimistic filmmaker doesn't understand anything but his expectations and pushes for the result he envisioned right away. Or the words of a scene are loud and clear, but none of the subtext is coming alive. Or the actors are just sitting and talking in every other scene and there will be nothing for the editor to cut and will be forced to use wipes and fades. As this film is being shot, morale wanes because the actors are being pushed around by someone's vision that soon reveals itself to be specific only in its egocentricity.
The pessimistic filmmaker knows what can go wrong and prepares for it. She knows that the actors are collaborators and she enlists their talent and vision. She knows they need time and to feel supported by her vision. She knows that the film has to cut together and prepares her shots with an experienced Director of Photography. She knows her vision must be developed, tested and tried long before she calls Action and wakes the Beast. She knows what the Beast looks like, his strengths and weaknesses. The Beast loves structure and preparation. Good scheduling, budgeting and casting. Without the forementioned, the Beast eats your days. The Beast gossips. The Beast loses and breaks equipment. The Beast destroys locations. The Beast creates tension in the cast and crew. But give the Beast a little structure and you can mount up with your entire cast and crew. The Beast will carry you home.
I'm working with a couple of first-timers right now. One of them thinks he's shooting a short in two weeks. He has a location. One of three. He has a script. He has one actor of three. He has one crew member, yours truly. (I said I'd shoot it for him and mentor him in the process) I sat down with him weeks ago and told him how to get started. I gave him names and numbers of actors I thought might be good for it. I gave him a storyboard program. I called him yesterday to find out what's going on. He's taking the weekend off, because his son kept him up Thursday night.
The other fellow has a little more going on. He's a good writer with a great script. And I think he has cinematic vision. I'm playing one of the leads in a workshop scene for him. He tells me I'm amazing, that I'm incredible. I appreciate that, but it doesn't make it any easier to suffer through his plodding, muddled rehearsals. I just want to keep doing the scene, because I dread his lack of feedback or the incoherence of it. Supposedly, I'm some sort of producer on it. There's been talk of working together beyond the workshop. For now, I think I'll stick to helping him with the use of my studio and giving him feedback on his directing in exchange for a full producer credit. (I'm still waiting for that deal memo) I suppose it's more my issue than his, but I am not sure I like this arrangement. I'm getting praised for being an amazing director and yet I'm standing by and watching someone struggle mightily at the helm of a very promising project.
Another reason to love Hollywood. There's no sentiment. Sure the movies are sentimental and often unwatchable. It's not about art, it's about marketing movies. Can this movie make money? With so-and-so in the lead and you-know-who co-starring it will get distribution and marketing. Can the guy that wrote this script direct so-and-so and you-know-who? Not a chance. Do the execs say, Aw shucks he really wants to, let's give him a shot? In a word - NO. For all my acting coaching and training and vision, I am going to have to fight for my life to get to direct my first feature that's financed by a studio.
I've worked with first-timers. One movie went to Sundance, got panned (deservedly) and opened for two days in NYC. The DVD releases sometime soon. Another is not finished after two years. The budget has soared. They owe everybody, including me, thousands of dollars. No one I know will work for the director again.
I know my cynicism and pro-Hollywood take makes all the indie filmmakers out there furious. Before you hyperventilate, please tell me of some great films that didn't find distribution. I've been to film festivals far and wide. I've suffered through more indie screenings than I can count. If you make a great movie, it is going to get distribution. If you write a great script, it's going to get optioned.
If you write a script that doesn't get optioned. Rewrite it and try again. This idea that you'll cut out the middle man and make it yourself -- Wake up from that spell. Even if I were to self-produce a $30,000 film, I would get the script out there before I decided it was worthy on my own. Why make it for 30k when you could get 300? Why self-distribute? Go ahead and reinvent the wheel while you're at it.
If you're making exprimental art films, this DIY attitude makes perfecct sense. If you just want to make a movie that's really important to you and you are happy to show it three or four times locally, this can-do optimism is awesome.
I'm talking to the folks out there that dream of being the next Robert Rodriguez. By the way, be careful of what you wish for. Even if you could follow in his footsteps, do you admire his filmography?
DIY is seductive. I was under its spell myself a few weeks ago. It happens to me every year or two. I hear all the talk of this one or that making a five thousand dollar film. All of the 5k and under local films I've seen are dreck. All of the 200k and under local films I've seen are dreck. I've spoken to many of those filmmakers. They express resentment that no one has stepped to distirbute their films or give them the money to make another. Based on what? That they grabbed a hold of the Beast's tail and somehow made it to the end?
I think I'll stick to my guns and continue to patiently develop my craft. I'm a Brother of Cinema, remaining chaste for my Lord until the time is right for me to wed.
So, in the interest of my purity, please don't hand me a script and tell me that you wrote it in two weeks. Please don't hand me a copy of your finished film and tell me the budget or that you shot it over a weekend. And whatever you do, do not invite me to the 48-Hour Film Fest.
High and Mightily,
Signore Direttore
Pop Quiz
Please answer the following questions with a simple yes or no.
1. Would you know a great script if you read it?
2. Have you ever raised money for a dream?
3. Can you make people believe in you?
4. Are you anal and meticulous?
5. Is saying no easy for you?
6. Are you ready for an emotional marathon?
7. Are you really creative?
1. Would you know a great script if you read it?
2. Have you ever raised money for a dream?
3. Can you make people believe in you?
4. Are you anal and meticulous?
5. Is saying no easy for you?
6. Are you ready for an emotional marathon?
7. Are you really creative?
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Going Home
In an hour or so I will lift off the tarmac at Burbank and be but two hours from touching down into the loving arms of my family. Los Angeles has always been veryvery good to me. This visit being no different. I had lunch with an old New York friend that's in the business yesterday. After molto sushi, we went up into the hills to see his house. Oh my. Breathtaking. He lives with a princess, his common law wife is a member of the Austrian royal family. I do not envy his life or his home. He has my respect and my perspective. His father-in-law is the head of a network and many other things, yet he auditions for roles and pitches projects and works to realize his dream of being a working actor on interesting projects like the rest of us. He stresses about taxes, mortgages and his daughter's Montessori tuition. He still takes acting classes.
Being in LA makes the business less abstract. The individual life is a dream, says John Patrick Shanley. We are all connected. The haves and the have-nots, the royal and the pedestrian. We do not live in isolation even if we isolate. Certain things make the world go round. Walking around Los Angeles this week ( I walked for miles, avoiding the car at every opportunity) I found a certain clarity. I want to be a working director, yes. Though never at the expense of my relationship to my family and community.
ciao los angeles,
nc
Being in LA makes the business less abstract. The individual life is a dream, says John Patrick Shanley. We are all connected. The haves and the have-nots, the royal and the pedestrian. We do not live in isolation even if we isolate. Certain things make the world go round. Walking around Los Angeles this week ( I walked for miles, avoiding the car at every opportunity) I found a certain clarity. I want to be a working director, yes. Though never at the expense of my relationship to my family and community.
ciao los angeles,
nc
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Did this happen to me?
After a long day of trying to see past personalities yesterday, I tried to go to a movie.
There was a time when I would go see everything. The cinema was my church. I'd see a second-run double bill and sneak into a third movie later that same day. This started when I was ten. My mother ran off with her biker husband to Arizona and my dad was bartending at some tavern on SE Powell. I was shacking up in a little travel trailer in his girlfriend's parent's backyard out on SE 82nd and Flavel, otherwise known as Felony Flats. When my mom came to her senses and returned to Portland, she was working three jobs and I was almost six feet tall, so it made sense to people that I was wandering around Portland by myself on TriMet going to movies.
I liked it all -- Bruce Lee, Richard Pryor-Gene Wilder escapades, Rocky I, II and III, teen movies, Scorcese (though I didn't know him by name and that he made two of my late 70s favorite at that age). Name a movie released between 1977 and 1992 and I probably saw it on the big screen. Xanadu, check. Midnight Run, check. Heavy Metal, check x3. My Bodyguard, check. Gallilopi, check x3, Fort Apache the Bronx, check. Raging Bull, check x4, Wolfen, check. Good Guys Wear Black, check. We could go on.
Some movies fascinated me so much that I stayed in the theater and watched them a second time. Blues Brothers, Flashdance, Diner and The Jerk are some of my single sitting-double views. I did this at my third or fourth visit to the Westgate in Beaverton (I lived in NE Portland) to see Star Wars in 1977. There were lines circling the parking lot and there was strict crowd control. I was told I had to leave for the next showing. I concocted an elaborate tale of vomiting in the bathroom for the second half of the movie and I'd already called my mom to pick me up in two more hours…
I didn't really know I loved movies. I just went to the movies a lot. And I acted them out by myself and at school. Playing Travis Bickle to my fifth grade class provoked a meeting with my mom in the principal's office. I played Rocky and Grease out alone at home afterschool for hours, days and months on end.
I ordered soundtracks from Columbia Record Club and never paid the bill. I'd forgotten so much of this until now. Whew.
I travel down memory lane for many reasons, one of which is to substantiate my love for going to the movies. But I got to tell you, I don't go much anymore. There's nothing to see. Nothing I want to spend two hours and eleven dollars on. (I'm in LA, remember.) It's not the money. $5.50 an hour for entertainment is a great deal. I understand the economics of the inflated popcorn and soda prices as well, I'm happy to support the movie-going experience completely. But I don't want to squirm and sigh and curse to myself as I'm held prisoner by relentless stylized tripe for two hours. I went through that with Danny Boyle's Millions the other night.
So I'm searching for a movie. I'm ready to drive out to Pasadena if need be. Nothing. Na Da.
Until I hit the Sunset 5, which is right down the street and I'm not sure how I missed it in the first five minutes of my search. A movie called Dallas 362. The storyline jumps out at me and sounds familiar. I smile and then I panic. It's remarkably close to the tagline of the film that I'm trying to get made. Click. Click. To the homepage. Set in Texas. Two friends. An older mentor. Quick. Quick. I've heard of this shit happening. No way. No way it's happening to me. I'm reading the list of producers. No familiar names. Production companies. No crossover. Okay. Okay. Maybe it's not happening ot me. Let's watch the trailer. Phew. Very different film. I'm going to go see it today. It ends tomorrow. Only opened for a week here. Didn't open in NY. I don't read Variety every day, but I do read indiewire daily and I keep my ear to the ground for projects like this. It got by me as well as the producer in New York that has had it for the past year.
I meant to talk about that relationship in Lealta… as well. His option on Original Glory expired yesterday. (I don't waste time) Great guy. Smart. He helped me develop the script a great deal, but he wasn't ever willing to put it out there for some reason. I could have just let the option quietly expire and pursued these new opportunities unencumbered, but I called him and reminded him of its expiry and what was cooking on my end. I gave him the opportunity to fight for it. He didn't.
He did, however, express regret at not being able to have it both ways.
like a big pizza pie,
signore direttore
There was a time when I would go see everything. The cinema was my church. I'd see a second-run double bill and sneak into a third movie later that same day. This started when I was ten. My mother ran off with her biker husband to Arizona and my dad was bartending at some tavern on SE Powell. I was shacking up in a little travel trailer in his girlfriend's parent's backyard out on SE 82nd and Flavel, otherwise known as Felony Flats. When my mom came to her senses and returned to Portland, she was working three jobs and I was almost six feet tall, so it made sense to people that I was wandering around Portland by myself on TriMet going to movies.
I liked it all -- Bruce Lee, Richard Pryor-Gene Wilder escapades, Rocky I, II and III, teen movies, Scorcese (though I didn't know him by name and that he made two of my late 70s favorite at that age). Name a movie released between 1977 and 1992 and I probably saw it on the big screen. Xanadu, check. Midnight Run, check. Heavy Metal, check x3. My Bodyguard, check. Gallilopi, check x3, Fort Apache the Bronx, check. Raging Bull, check x4, Wolfen, check. Good Guys Wear Black, check. We could go on.
Some movies fascinated me so much that I stayed in the theater and watched them a second time. Blues Brothers, Flashdance, Diner and The Jerk are some of my single sitting-double views. I did this at my third or fourth visit to the Westgate in Beaverton (I lived in NE Portland) to see Star Wars in 1977. There were lines circling the parking lot and there was strict crowd control. I was told I had to leave for the next showing. I concocted an elaborate tale of vomiting in the bathroom for the second half of the movie and I'd already called my mom to pick me up in two more hours…
I didn't really know I loved movies. I just went to the movies a lot. And I acted them out by myself and at school. Playing Travis Bickle to my fifth grade class provoked a meeting with my mom in the principal's office. I played Rocky and Grease out alone at home afterschool for hours, days and months on end.
I ordered soundtracks from Columbia Record Club and never paid the bill. I'd forgotten so much of this until now. Whew.
I travel down memory lane for many reasons, one of which is to substantiate my love for going to the movies. But I got to tell you, I don't go much anymore. There's nothing to see. Nothing I want to spend two hours and eleven dollars on. (I'm in LA, remember.) It's not the money. $5.50 an hour for entertainment is a great deal. I understand the economics of the inflated popcorn and soda prices as well, I'm happy to support the movie-going experience completely. But I don't want to squirm and sigh and curse to myself as I'm held prisoner by relentless stylized tripe for two hours. I went through that with Danny Boyle's Millions the other night.
So I'm searching for a movie. I'm ready to drive out to Pasadena if need be. Nothing. Na Da.
Until I hit the Sunset 5, which is right down the street and I'm not sure how I missed it in the first five minutes of my search. A movie called Dallas 362. The storyline jumps out at me and sounds familiar. I smile and then I panic. It's remarkably close to the tagline of the film that I'm trying to get made. Click. Click. To the homepage. Set in Texas. Two friends. An older mentor. Quick. Quick. I've heard of this shit happening. No way. No way it's happening to me. I'm reading the list of producers. No familiar names. Production companies. No crossover. Okay. Okay. Maybe it's not happening ot me. Let's watch the trailer. Phew. Very different film. I'm going to go see it today. It ends tomorrow. Only opened for a week here. Didn't open in NY. I don't read Variety every day, but I do read indiewire daily and I keep my ear to the ground for projects like this. It got by me as well as the producer in New York that has had it for the past year.
I meant to talk about that relationship in Lealta… as well. His option on Original Glory expired yesterday. (I don't waste time) Great guy. Smart. He helped me develop the script a great deal, but he wasn't ever willing to put it out there for some reason. I could have just let the option quietly expire and pursued these new opportunities unencumbered, but I called him and reminded him of its expiry and what was cooking on my end. I gave him the opportunity to fight for it. He didn't.
He did, however, express regret at not being able to have it both ways.
like a big pizza pie,
signore direttore
Lealta spells loyalty
Buona sera, amici…
Today, oh boy. We had our first sit down with a potential sponsor regarding Original Glory. The plan was to ask this person to see the viability of the three of us. Someone who is willing to say, We need someone to get behind these two young and promising actors and this unknown yet talented director.
We sit down at our table at the designated meeting spot in Studio City. She arrives. Smiles, handshakes, lots of eye contact -- so much sizing up. Great characters. What's the story? I didn't get a chance to read the whole thing. Well on page fourteen Johnny kills LBJ's father. She agreed that was indeed an inciting incident. The next thing she says is I'll do whatever needs to be done to help you get this made, but Zach is in and the other guy is out.
Meanwhile, Michael is in New York having a similar meeting more or less simultaneously where he hears the same story, though it's he that's in and Zach that's out. The good news for Signore Direttore is that I'm apparently in.
The Studio City meeting proceeded to include casting the actor that I've had in mind since I typed FADE OUT. two years ago.
What did I do? Did I sell out Michael? Did I jump at the opportunity to meet with the A-lister I've been mentally courting for two years? No. Signore Direttore has integrity. I told her I have an agreement with Michael and Zach to pursue this film together and that I would have to get back to her in a few days. She respected that yet was a bit shocked, it seemed. I enjoyed meeting her and I hope to enlist her enthusiasm and resources in the future.
I was sick to my stomach and I still am. I phoned Michael when I got home and heard about the NY meeting.
I can see clearly that I am going to have to make a choice between the boys in the next week or so. I think I know what my choice is going to be. As I've prepared the actor that is probably going to have to step aside, it's like ripping someone's heart out. "You have to understand, I love you but I'm not ready to be together right now." Ugh. It feels like that. That don't feel so good.
I sure would like to have it both ways. It doesn't seem as if I'm ready for that privilege.
Ugh.
nc
Today, oh boy. We had our first sit down with a potential sponsor regarding Original Glory. The plan was to ask this person to see the viability of the three of us. Someone who is willing to say, We need someone to get behind these two young and promising actors and this unknown yet talented director.
We sit down at our table at the designated meeting spot in Studio City. She arrives. Smiles, handshakes, lots of eye contact -- so much sizing up. Great characters. What's the story? I didn't get a chance to read the whole thing. Well on page fourteen Johnny kills LBJ's father. She agreed that was indeed an inciting incident. The next thing she says is I'll do whatever needs to be done to help you get this made, but Zach is in and the other guy is out.
Meanwhile, Michael is in New York having a similar meeting more or less simultaneously where he hears the same story, though it's he that's in and Zach that's out. The good news for Signore Direttore is that I'm apparently in.
The Studio City meeting proceeded to include casting the actor that I've had in mind since I typed FADE OUT. two years ago.
What did I do? Did I sell out Michael? Did I jump at the opportunity to meet with the A-lister I've been mentally courting for two years? No. Signore Direttore has integrity. I told her I have an agreement with Michael and Zach to pursue this film together and that I would have to get back to her in a few days. She respected that yet was a bit shocked, it seemed. I enjoyed meeting her and I hope to enlist her enthusiasm and resources in the future.
I was sick to my stomach and I still am. I phoned Michael when I got home and heard about the NY meeting.
I can see clearly that I am going to have to make a choice between the boys in the next week or so. I think I know what my choice is going to be. As I've prepared the actor that is probably going to have to step aside, it's like ripping someone's heart out. "You have to understand, I love you but I'm not ready to be together right now." Ugh. It feels like that. That don't feel so good.
I sure would like to have it both ways. It doesn't seem as if I'm ready for that privilege.
Ugh.
nc
Friday, May 06, 2005
Deathbed of a Hyphenate
Andrei Tarkovsky (Andrei Rublev, Solaris) referred to filmmaking as sculpting in time.
To be perfectly frank, I feel as if time is sculpting me these days. This getting pushed around, molded, shaped, reworked and reformed by my long, busy days has taken its toll. I've chosen a path that is often easily and necessarily muddled. The film director is a cinematographer, a film editor, a screenwriter, a producer, a production designer and a composer. We are scupltors in time -- light, actors, sets, wardrobe and sounds our medium. Is there a director that simply directs the work of the aforementioned specialists? Certainly. Though if he or she is accomplished, I am confident that they possess masterful knowledge of all aspects of filmmaking.
Where does that leave me? Where does one begin when days begin at dawn after sleep interrupted by subconscious dreaming of storylines, production strategies, rehearsal development and end with late night phone calls with actors, editors, writers, producers and my assistants? This is not working 9-5. No bankers hours for the aspiring auteur.
After each of these interactions I proceed to the next meeting or task while the editor goes to the park with his kids, the actor goes to the golf course and the writer goes to dinner with his wife.
I had a meeting at the Open Studio with the writer and supposedly producer of High Desert Psalmist. I was working on that film twelve-plus hours a day last week, pitching a film that wasn't on paper. He and I were discussing the possibilities of the story he'd written. Many were signing on based on my integrity and vision without reading a script. I told myself that if the writer couldn't deliver soon, I would do it. Why not add writer to lead actor-director-producer-editor? I'm angry at myself looking at that last sentence. One hyphen is pushing it. Four? Five? Give me a break. That's ridiculous. It's been done. Sure it has, and sometimes with excellent results. More often it's a short-sighted desperate attempt to succeed in an unsupported environment.
He was begging off, just as he had done when I told him he needed to up the resources of the production for me to get involved as an actor. He took the easy road and hired me to direct. Then he suggested I produce it, based on my experience. He was relying very heavily on my writing skills as well. I'd suggest clear direction for the opening scene and he'd ask me to hold his hand. Screenwriting is rewriting. I've written over thirty drafts after what I thought was the final draft on one of my screenplays. Being an artist is knowing what works, what doesn't and how to amend it until it's successful.
I put my foot down on the fifth hyphen and it turned out to be the demise of my involvement.
I felt absolutely desperate after he left. Trapped, hopeless and uncertain of any measure of success. I decided that my gut was trying to tell me something. After discussing it with a couple of trusted souls, I tendered my resignation the following morning. Not once since have I felt an opportunity lost.
Quite the contrary, Michael Cassidy is keen on getting one of my scripts, Original Glory, produced with him and Zach in the leads and me in the director's chair.
Before I get to take the helm, I have to polish the script and ready it for the cold, hard journey across the desks of Hollywood's power brokers. At least I'm past the gatekeepers this time. Should Michael's agents like the script as much as he, I will have to produce a line item budget.
One of these days I want to kill the hyphenate. For now, I'll continue my climb up the ladder with all my hyphens at my disposal.
ciao,
signore dirretore
To be perfectly frank, I feel as if time is sculpting me these days. This getting pushed around, molded, shaped, reworked and reformed by my long, busy days has taken its toll. I've chosen a path that is often easily and necessarily muddled. The film director is a cinematographer, a film editor, a screenwriter, a producer, a production designer and a composer. We are scupltors in time -- light, actors, sets, wardrobe and sounds our medium. Is there a director that simply directs the work of the aforementioned specialists? Certainly. Though if he or she is accomplished, I am confident that they possess masterful knowledge of all aspects of filmmaking.
Where does that leave me? Where does one begin when days begin at dawn after sleep interrupted by subconscious dreaming of storylines, production strategies, rehearsal development and end with late night phone calls with actors, editors, writers, producers and my assistants? This is not working 9-5. No bankers hours for the aspiring auteur.
After each of these interactions I proceed to the next meeting or task while the editor goes to the park with his kids, the actor goes to the golf course and the writer goes to dinner with his wife.
I had a meeting at the Open Studio with the writer and supposedly producer of High Desert Psalmist. I was working on that film twelve-plus hours a day last week, pitching a film that wasn't on paper. He and I were discussing the possibilities of the story he'd written. Many were signing on based on my integrity and vision without reading a script. I told myself that if the writer couldn't deliver soon, I would do it. Why not add writer to lead actor-director-producer-editor? I'm angry at myself looking at that last sentence. One hyphen is pushing it. Four? Five? Give me a break. That's ridiculous. It's been done. Sure it has, and sometimes with excellent results. More often it's a short-sighted desperate attempt to succeed in an unsupported environment.
He was begging off, just as he had done when I told him he needed to up the resources of the production for me to get involved as an actor. He took the easy road and hired me to direct. Then he suggested I produce it, based on my experience. He was relying very heavily on my writing skills as well. I'd suggest clear direction for the opening scene and he'd ask me to hold his hand. Screenwriting is rewriting. I've written over thirty drafts after what I thought was the final draft on one of my screenplays. Being an artist is knowing what works, what doesn't and how to amend it until it's successful.
I put my foot down on the fifth hyphen and it turned out to be the demise of my involvement.
I felt absolutely desperate after he left. Trapped, hopeless and uncertain of any measure of success. I decided that my gut was trying to tell me something. After discussing it with a couple of trusted souls, I tendered my resignation the following morning. Not once since have I felt an opportunity lost.
Quite the contrary, Michael Cassidy is keen on getting one of my scripts, Original Glory, produced with him and Zach in the leads and me in the director's chair.
Before I get to take the helm, I have to polish the script and ready it for the cold, hard journey across the desks of Hollywood's power brokers. At least I'm past the gatekeepers this time. Should Michael's agents like the script as much as he, I will have to produce a line item budget.
One of these days I want to kill the hyphenate. For now, I'll continue my climb up the ladder with all my hyphens at my disposal.
ciao,
signore dirretore
Sunday, May 01, 2005
SemplicitÃ
This afternoon we're hosting an Open Studio at the neal a. corl acting studio. There has been an enthusiastic RSVP. It should prove to be quite interesting. I'm excited, but I also feel as if the studio is deserving of the attention.
I'm looking forward to letting it happen as it needs today. We'll see.
I don't want my expectations to get in the way. The work we do is simple and sometimes it's difficult for us to realize and trust that simplicity is sufficient. At first glance it seems like we're not doing anything. Yeah. That's the point, isn't it? We try to not do anything but be in the moment. Which, if you're a fan of Jonathon Livingston Seagull ...
With the wrong interpretation it becomes mannered. If we can believe that we can be in the moment for no other goal than to be in the moment, we can experience release from the tension caused by concentrating on the results. That's what the work prepares us for and where it leads us.
I met with Michael Cassidy, Zach on The OC, last night. What an awesome kid -- charismatic, smart, savvy and kind-hearted. He commited to High Desert Psalmist in the role of Goliath. He asked me a flattering yet puzzling question: Neal, what are you doing in Portland directing a tiny movie like HDP?
I told him that the career path for directors is much different than that of actors and that rather than try to create opportunities in the typical short-sighted ways of most indie wannabes, I've concentrated on preparing for the opportunity that I believed would come.
I honestly don't know if HPD is that opportunity, but I know what needs to be done to prepare to make a good film and I know that I'm ready to formulate and execute the plan to do so.
There's more to relate, as always, however time for leisure writing is quite limited.
ciao,
signore dirretore
I'm looking forward to letting it happen as it needs today. We'll see.
I don't want my expectations to get in the way. The work we do is simple and sometimes it's difficult for us to realize and trust that simplicity is sufficient. At first glance it seems like we're not doing anything. Yeah. That's the point, isn't it? We try to not do anything but be in the moment. Which, if you're a fan of Jonathon Livingston Seagull ...
With the wrong interpretation it becomes mannered. If we can believe that we can be in the moment for no other goal than to be in the moment, we can experience release from the tension caused by concentrating on the results. That's what the work prepares us for and where it leads us.
I met with Michael Cassidy, Zach on The OC, last night. What an awesome kid -- charismatic, smart, savvy and kind-hearted. He commited to High Desert Psalmist in the role of Goliath. He asked me a flattering yet puzzling question: Neal, what are you doing in Portland directing a tiny movie like HDP?
I told him that the career path for directors is much different than that of actors and that rather than try to create opportunities in the typical short-sighted ways of most indie wannabes, I've concentrated on preparing for the opportunity that I believed would come.
I honestly don't know if HPD is that opportunity, but I know what needs to be done to prepare to make a good film and I know that I'm ready to formulate and execute the plan to do so.
There's more to relate, as always, however time for leisure writing is quite limited.
ciao,
signore dirretore
Thursday, April 28, 2005
At Long Last
Ciao amici
I've been far and wide this week, putting this film together. It's been exciting and much work. Often the politics and planning dominate this phase of pre-production. Especially on a project where the director and over half of the production team have been replaced.
The trip to Burns was great. I learned a lot about the story and the production. It was good to see everything straight away.
The former director has tentatively hired by the producer to shoot the film. I don't think that's going to work, but for now I remain open to the possibilty. His ideas as a director were a bit quirky and arbitrary, lending a Farrelly Brothers meets Wes Anderson meets JoeDV Hack vibe to the picture.
As it is the story of David and Goliath in the contemporary world of cross-country running, I'm thinking The Bible is somewhat epic. Set in the high desert -- seems more epic than quirky to me. To keep it from getting too dry for the kids, I'm thinking Election meets Sergio Leone.
I posted some photos on my photo blog: http://flickr.com/photos/25348003@N00/
I've definitely got my hands full. The producer freely admits he has risen to his level of incompetence with the experience and energy that I bring to the project and he's passing that hat to me.
Ugh.
I hired a personal assistant today. If I can't clone myself, I'm going to need some help.
I tried to hire Greg James, a local actor that fits the bill, to play Roy(al) but his wife is having a baby first of July. So I started rehearsing tonight with one of my students. I did a lot of things I warn my students against. I was more concerned with the words on the page than with my partner. i didn't listen except to wait for the lines coming back to me. I wasn't working for anything except to prove to myself that I was right for the part.
But my able student imitated my refrain of, Did you do what you wanted to do? I copped to all of the above and he reminded me to listen. Then we improv'd a bit and I stayed with myself and I didn't do anything until something happened to me as we explored the scene. It was a good start.
There is no character. It's only me playing according to the given circumstances.
I know I've raised expectations a lot on this project. I'm concerned that I might not meet the expectations they've developed for Roy over the past eighteen months. (I got the writer to change the name. I loved Royal, but it was too Wes Anderson) I must remember that all I believe in as a director applies equally to me as an actor as it does to any other actors in this film. I've been admitting my fear to myself and others today. I'm grateful to have taught my students so well that they are there for me now.
I try to be pretty honest with myself about casting. Including myself. I feel I am the best man around town for this part. I think Greg could have done a hell of a job and left me to direct and produce, but he's going to be a papa. Good for him.
And good for me. I will rise to this challenge. I'm a talented man. I'll let myself take this opportunity and do my best in every regard.
One of my fears is that I'll look like Quentin Tarantino, a director that I believe greatly does his films a disservice by appearing in them. Hopefully I'll acheive something closer to Billy Bob Thornton or early Clint Eastwood. I persist in callng this film, High Plains Drifter, so maybe there's something to that.
There's a hell of a lot more to relate, but this week has taken its toll on me.
I've promised myself and my wife that I will do no work tomorrow.
My first day off since February 22 when London Calling started.
No phone calls or emails.
Nada.
pasta&bagels,
nc
I've been far and wide this week, putting this film together. It's been exciting and much work. Often the politics and planning dominate this phase of pre-production. Especially on a project where the director and over half of the production team have been replaced.
The trip to Burns was great. I learned a lot about the story and the production. It was good to see everything straight away.
The former director has tentatively hired by the producer to shoot the film. I don't think that's going to work, but for now I remain open to the possibilty. His ideas as a director were a bit quirky and arbitrary, lending a Farrelly Brothers meets Wes Anderson meets JoeDV Hack vibe to the picture.
As it is the story of David and Goliath in the contemporary world of cross-country running, I'm thinking The Bible is somewhat epic. Set in the high desert -- seems more epic than quirky to me. To keep it from getting too dry for the kids, I'm thinking Election meets Sergio Leone.
I posted some photos on my photo blog: http://flickr.com/photos/25348003@N00/
I've definitely got my hands full. The producer freely admits he has risen to his level of incompetence with the experience and energy that I bring to the project and he's passing that hat to me.
Ugh.
I hired a personal assistant today. If I can't clone myself, I'm going to need some help.
I tried to hire Greg James, a local actor that fits the bill, to play Roy(al) but his wife is having a baby first of July. So I started rehearsing tonight with one of my students. I did a lot of things I warn my students against. I was more concerned with the words on the page than with my partner. i didn't listen except to wait for the lines coming back to me. I wasn't working for anything except to prove to myself that I was right for the part.
But my able student imitated my refrain of, Did you do what you wanted to do? I copped to all of the above and he reminded me to listen. Then we improv'd a bit and I stayed with myself and I didn't do anything until something happened to me as we explored the scene. It was a good start.
There is no character. It's only me playing according to the given circumstances.
I know I've raised expectations a lot on this project. I'm concerned that I might not meet the expectations they've developed for Roy over the past eighteen months. (I got the writer to change the name. I loved Royal, but it was too Wes Anderson) I must remember that all I believe in as a director applies equally to me as an actor as it does to any other actors in this film. I've been admitting my fear to myself and others today. I'm grateful to have taught my students so well that they are there for me now.
I try to be pretty honest with myself about casting. Including myself. I feel I am the best man around town for this part. I think Greg could have done a hell of a job and left me to direct and produce, but he's going to be a papa. Good for him.
And good for me. I will rise to this challenge. I'm a talented man. I'll let myself take this opportunity and do my best in every regard.
One of my fears is that I'll look like Quentin Tarantino, a director that I believe greatly does his films a disservice by appearing in them. Hopefully I'll acheive something closer to Billy Bob Thornton or early Clint Eastwood. I persist in callng this film, High Plains Drifter, so maybe there's something to that.
There's a hell of a lot more to relate, but this week has taken its toll on me.
I've promised myself and my wife that I will do no work tomorrow.
My first day off since February 22 when London Calling started.
No phone calls or emails.
Nada.
pasta&bagels,
nc
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Accalorato
The morning after. I'm aflutter. I'm giddy. I'm bouncing on the beds waking my kids up, instead of the usual visa versa.
Directing a film is hard work. That work being in the preparation. The next three moths are going to be crazy.
Alas, insane in my preferred manner of living -- creating and discovering through a wonderful process that involves every bit of my being. What's better than that?
ciao for now,
nc
Directing a film is hard work. That work being in the preparation. The next three moths are going to be crazy.
Alas, insane in my preferred manner of living -- creating and discovering through a wonderful process that involves every bit of my being. What's better than that?
ciao for now,
nc
Friday, April 22, 2005
Momento molto
Ciao amici,
What a strange turn of events I've experienced in the past twenty-four hours. In an effort to meet some actors and lend a hand to a small indie film that one of my actor-students is involved with, I took a meeting to discuss the possibility of casting it for them. As a rule, I do not sign on to any project in any capacity without reading the script. Often I get a great feeling from someone and I'm just positive it's going to be great only to find some incoherent tripe that is insufferable beyond fifteen pages or so.
As we were talking about the main character, I thought he sounded an awful lot like me. He's based on King Saul of the David and Goliath saga. I wondered why Zach hadn't ever mentioned it to me. Did he think I would refuse to take part in a small film? Did he think I was the epitome of the 'Those that can't do, teach' refrain? I didn't want to say anything until I had read the script, in any case.
I read it an hour or two later. First scene takes place in a trophy shop. My dad owned a trophy shop when I was a kid. On page one, I was connected. It got better and deeper. The character richer. Pathos. Narcissism. Glory days. Self-will run riot. Oh my.
I called Zach and told him I was interested in playing the lead, Royal McKay. He said he had thought of me the first time we met last year, but was afraid to ask.
I called the director this morning. We talked about the story and the character. It was pleasant. I asked him some questions, to some of which I knew the answer, in order to feel him out. He seemed competent and at ease with it all. Though I sensed he had a better intellectual than practical understanding of directing actors.
Then we spoke of schedules and resources and crew. Oh so quickly the bloom leaves the rose.
I don't want to go to film camp. I don't want to have the experience of making a film for the f*ck of it. I don't want to wait and see what's going to happen. I don't want to cross my fingers. I mean I do want to be surprised, but I don't want it to be a cluster-f*ck. Controlled chaos, yes. Naive scrambling about, no way.
I called the producer. He really wants to make this film. He wrote it and his enthusiasm is typical of the novice filmmaker. Several years ago, I too, thought it was easy. You had a cool idea, you wrote it down. You got a camera. Some actors. How hard can it be?
Several films later: really really really really f*cking HARD. Almost improbable if you want to make something watchable. A masterpiece straight out of the box? Citizen Kane. I can't think of another first film that's a masterpiece. Do your homework on that one. Almost everybody made a first film (or two) before their First Film.
Back to the producer -- he offered me the helm. I didn't think he'd offer it to me. I got the sense I could lobby for the job after speaking with the director, but I wanted to find out more before I explored that agenda.
No matter, he called just now. We're leaving on a location scout after my Saturday morning class.
He's a man of action. Sartre would despise him. Sartre would despise me. I too am a man of action -- I love to call it out con nonchalance.
Seems as if I'll be calling it on set for a number of days this summer.
HIGH DESERT PSALMIST
I'll let you know how it goes.
ariverderchy,
signore direttore
aka Royal McKay
What a strange turn of events I've experienced in the past twenty-four hours. In an effort to meet some actors and lend a hand to a small indie film that one of my actor-students is involved with, I took a meeting to discuss the possibility of casting it for them. As a rule, I do not sign on to any project in any capacity without reading the script. Often I get a great feeling from someone and I'm just positive it's going to be great only to find some incoherent tripe that is insufferable beyond fifteen pages or so.
As we were talking about the main character, I thought he sounded an awful lot like me. He's based on King Saul of the David and Goliath saga. I wondered why Zach hadn't ever mentioned it to me. Did he think I would refuse to take part in a small film? Did he think I was the epitome of the 'Those that can't do, teach' refrain? I didn't want to say anything until I had read the script, in any case.
I read it an hour or two later. First scene takes place in a trophy shop. My dad owned a trophy shop when I was a kid. On page one, I was connected. It got better and deeper. The character richer. Pathos. Narcissism. Glory days. Self-will run riot. Oh my.
I called Zach and told him I was interested in playing the lead, Royal McKay. He said he had thought of me the first time we met last year, but was afraid to ask.
I called the director this morning. We talked about the story and the character. It was pleasant. I asked him some questions, to some of which I knew the answer, in order to feel him out. He seemed competent and at ease with it all. Though I sensed he had a better intellectual than practical understanding of directing actors.
Then we spoke of schedules and resources and crew. Oh so quickly the bloom leaves the rose.
I don't want to go to film camp. I don't want to have the experience of making a film for the f*ck of it. I don't want to wait and see what's going to happen. I don't want to cross my fingers. I mean I do want to be surprised, but I don't want it to be a cluster-f*ck. Controlled chaos, yes. Naive scrambling about, no way.
I called the producer. He really wants to make this film. He wrote it and his enthusiasm is typical of the novice filmmaker. Several years ago, I too, thought it was easy. You had a cool idea, you wrote it down. You got a camera. Some actors. How hard can it be?
Several films later: really really really really f*cking HARD. Almost improbable if you want to make something watchable. A masterpiece straight out of the box? Citizen Kane. I can't think of another first film that's a masterpiece. Do your homework on that one. Almost everybody made a first film (or two) before their First Film.
Back to the producer -- he offered me the helm. I didn't think he'd offer it to me. I got the sense I could lobby for the job after speaking with the director, but I wanted to find out more before I explored that agenda.
No matter, he called just now. We're leaving on a location scout after my Saturday morning class.
He's a man of action. Sartre would despise him. Sartre would despise me. I too am a man of action -- I love to call it out con nonchalance.
Seems as if I'll be calling it on set for a number of days this summer.
HIGH DESERT PSALMIST
I'll let you know how it goes.
ariverderchy,
signore direttore
aka Royal McKay
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
The Most Significant
Carl Jung claimed in his autobiography that it was not the places he travelled, nor the many exalted people he met, nor even his own awards and achievments that he most cherished. What he found to be the most significant were his dreams and his inner life. Jung influenced Fellini deeply. More specific accounts of that influence will make their way here eventually.
For now I will share this morning's most vivid dream.
A child walks on a balance beam, her mother close by should she fall reminding her to think. I wanted to say, NO! Before I could I was in an auditorium full of students, known actors, with whom I am friends in some cases and at least acquianted in others, and my family including my father.
There was a film being made, possibly my own. While everyone settled into the small auditorium, I spoke to a video artist about contrast ratios in an anteroom while Andrew Dickson took to the stage and began to speak about raising one's arm with concentration. I leaped to the fore and began to distinguish between contacting one's body and intellectual concentration. I was not grounded, so I climbed to the stage and first connected my feet.
I felt my body open up with all the eyes in the crowd on me. I wanted to know they saw what I felt. I wanted to know they were with me. Then they were leaving for the day. Getting into cars. I wanted to stand face to face with Peter Saarsgaard and Maggie Gyllenhall to see, not to ask, but rather to read if they thought my work was for real. While I was detained they waved as they climbed into a car and left.
There were others that I wanted to approach and gauge their reaction only to be thwarted by folks less central to the production asking me more questions regarding schedules and technical issues. I wanted to talk to the actors. I was continually waylayed until all the actors had left. The last person to confront me was a high school chum with whom I am still current. He's a musician and I thought he wanted to talk about the composing. Instead, David accused me of stealing his Kenny Lofton pocket knife. I plead my innocence, but it seemed only to confirm my guilt and he too walked away, leaving me in an enormous, very empty parking lot. I wanted to explain I don't steal from people like I did in high school.
ciao
signore direttore
For now I will share this morning's most vivid dream.
A child walks on a balance beam, her mother close by should she fall reminding her to think. I wanted to say, NO! Before I could I was in an auditorium full of students, known actors, with whom I am friends in some cases and at least acquianted in others, and my family including my father.
There was a film being made, possibly my own. While everyone settled into the small auditorium, I spoke to a video artist about contrast ratios in an anteroom while Andrew Dickson took to the stage and began to speak about raising one's arm with concentration. I leaped to the fore and began to distinguish between contacting one's body and intellectual concentration. I was not grounded, so I climbed to the stage and first connected my feet.
I felt my body open up with all the eyes in the crowd on me. I wanted to know they saw what I felt. I wanted to know they were with me. Then they were leaving for the day. Getting into cars. I wanted to stand face to face with Peter Saarsgaard and Maggie Gyllenhall to see, not to ask, but rather to read if they thought my work was for real. While I was detained they waved as they climbed into a car and left.
There were others that I wanted to approach and gauge their reaction only to be thwarted by folks less central to the production asking me more questions regarding schedules and technical issues. I wanted to talk to the actors. I was continually waylayed until all the actors had left. The last person to confront me was a high school chum with whom I am still current. He's a musician and I thought he wanted to talk about the composing. Instead, David accused me of stealing his Kenny Lofton pocket knife. I plead my innocence, but it seemed only to confirm my guilt and he too walked away, leaving me in an enormous, very empty parking lot. I wanted to explain I don't steal from people like I did in high school.
ciao
signore direttore
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Bigger Pictures
Last Sunday I wrote a post entitled Bigger Pictures that disappeared into the ether. The title has attained ever more meaning over the course of the week.
Bigger Picture #1 (and #1b)
Zach Sherman will not be starring and co-producing our war film, But a Dream. Nor will he be co-producing Dear Juanita. He has booked parts in two studio motion pictures filming in New Mexico and Los Angeles next month. I'm very proud of him and not the least bit surprised. As for any disapointment I might be experiencing due to his inability to work on the films I had slated for next month, read on. Please.
Bigger Picture #2
Didn't have to go to Austin to transfer London Calling after all. Jim Barrett at Downstream made me an offer I couldn't refuse and we transferred the film Thursday. I recommend Downstream wholeheartedly. They treated us like the commercial pros that were paying five times as much.
As for London Calling, I never had dailies printed to save a little money, so I hadn't seen the footage. I was lowerring my expectations as each day passed. I'm not sure they could have gotten any lower. I was certain of reshoots.
As I watched each flat come up on the monitor, I smiled more and more as I chatted with Jim the colorist.
One thing I mentioned that I believe appropriate to mention here has to do with jargon. As I was describing some adjustment or another, I interrupted myself to expain that I don't claim to know the technical language of color correction and that I was going to explain it as I saw it and that he should feel free to correct or question me at any point. I added that I wasn't particularly interested in learning the ins and outs of his field either. Not out of disrespect but quite the contrary, I explained. Too many directors get bogged down in technical terms and concepts while neglecting our primary job -- storytelling. Jim really appreciated that.
The film really moved me to tears of joy. It's the first time since my very first film that a film has come together so completely according to my intentions and ambitions. I look forward to cutting it over the next few weeks. And that is a perfect segue to:
Bigger Picture #3
I mentioned meeting some editors around town a couple of weeks ago. One that I met is Lisa Day. Lisa has cut films for some great directors: Hal Ashby, Peter Bogdonovich, Taylor Hackford, Jonathon Demme. She lives here in Portland. We have a mutual friend and she agreed to meet me for a coffee a couple of weeks ago. She gave me the numbers of some editors around town and even said she liked the sound of London Calling but was too busy to cut it. I wasn't even thinking of asking her, to tell you the truth. She said something else to me that really stuck. After I told her about some of my screenplays and other work that I've done, she told me that I really had some good ideas but that I should be working harder to get them out there.
She's right.
So I started thinking bigger and asked her to be the Supervising Editor for London Calling. She agreed.
Bigger Picture #4
I finally got a chance to see Sideways. Another week or two and I'd be watching it on DVD. It's not exactly cinematic, so it may not lose much on the small screen. The performances were definitely big in the right ways. Paul Giamatti really did some fine work. As did Miss Madsen and Miss Cho. I was annoyed by some of the stylistic choices and the ugly, flat desaturated look, but I got over it. A thought I had in between laughing and appreciating the wonderful storytelling was; why are there not more films like this out there? It's a simple story well told. How hard can it be for studios to promote the creation and distribution of simple stories well told?
Yet another colleague excused the studios by pointing out the lack of good scripts.
Bigger Picture #5
I got some other news this week that really points to Bigger Picture issues. I'm not ready to reveal that news just yet.
Long ago I worked as an art teacher. Many kids would question becoming artists citing the difficulties of earning a living in a creative field. It's a competitive world. Getting a BA or even a JD or MBA doesn't guarantee success these days. Why not pursue something you can put your heart into? Without forgetting that the good is often the enemy of the great. Remembering that mastery of one's chosen craft is the pursuit, not some half-assed-getting-through-it-status-quo-ancilliary-functionary-in-a-pseudo-creative-profession so you can buy an iPod, go on cool vacations and drive a Mini.
Writing scripts is inexpensive, at least compared to making Super16 short films. In light of Zach's absence and ascendence, the seeming success of London Calling, the support of a respected pro like Lisa Day, the dearth of good scripts reaching the studios and not least because of this week's big (secret) news -- I'm going to polish a few scripts and even knock out a couple of new ones over the next few months.
Maybe then I'll be making Bigger Pictures with someone else's money.
I'm fairly certain ff was always thinking in terms of bigger pictures.
ciao,
nc
Bigger Picture #1 (and #1b)
Zach Sherman will not be starring and co-producing our war film, But a Dream. Nor will he be co-producing Dear Juanita. He has booked parts in two studio motion pictures filming in New Mexico and Los Angeles next month. I'm very proud of him and not the least bit surprised. As for any disapointment I might be experiencing due to his inability to work on the films I had slated for next month, read on. Please.
Bigger Picture #2
Didn't have to go to Austin to transfer London Calling after all. Jim Barrett at Downstream made me an offer I couldn't refuse and we transferred the film Thursday. I recommend Downstream wholeheartedly. They treated us like the commercial pros that were paying five times as much.
As for London Calling, I never had dailies printed to save a little money, so I hadn't seen the footage. I was lowerring my expectations as each day passed. I'm not sure they could have gotten any lower. I was certain of reshoots.
As I watched each flat come up on the monitor, I smiled more and more as I chatted with Jim the colorist.
One thing I mentioned that I believe appropriate to mention here has to do with jargon. As I was describing some adjustment or another, I interrupted myself to expain that I don't claim to know the technical language of color correction and that I was going to explain it as I saw it and that he should feel free to correct or question me at any point. I added that I wasn't particularly interested in learning the ins and outs of his field either. Not out of disrespect but quite the contrary, I explained. Too many directors get bogged down in technical terms and concepts while neglecting our primary job -- storytelling. Jim really appreciated that.
The film really moved me to tears of joy. It's the first time since my very first film that a film has come together so completely according to my intentions and ambitions. I look forward to cutting it over the next few weeks. And that is a perfect segue to:
Bigger Picture #3
I mentioned meeting some editors around town a couple of weeks ago. One that I met is Lisa Day. Lisa has cut films for some great directors: Hal Ashby, Peter Bogdonovich, Taylor Hackford, Jonathon Demme. She lives here in Portland. We have a mutual friend and she agreed to meet me for a coffee a couple of weeks ago. She gave me the numbers of some editors around town and even said she liked the sound of London Calling but was too busy to cut it. I wasn't even thinking of asking her, to tell you the truth. She said something else to me that really stuck. After I told her about some of my screenplays and other work that I've done, she told me that I really had some good ideas but that I should be working harder to get them out there.
She's right.
So I started thinking bigger and asked her to be the Supervising Editor for London Calling. She agreed.
Bigger Picture #4
I finally got a chance to see Sideways. Another week or two and I'd be watching it on DVD. It's not exactly cinematic, so it may not lose much on the small screen. The performances were definitely big in the right ways. Paul Giamatti really did some fine work. As did Miss Madsen and Miss Cho. I was annoyed by some of the stylistic choices and the ugly, flat desaturated look, but I got over it. A thought I had in between laughing and appreciating the wonderful storytelling was; why are there not more films like this out there? It's a simple story well told. How hard can it be for studios to promote the creation and distribution of simple stories well told?
Yet another colleague excused the studios by pointing out the lack of good scripts.
Bigger Picture #5
I got some other news this week that really points to Bigger Picture issues. I'm not ready to reveal that news just yet.
Long ago I worked as an art teacher. Many kids would question becoming artists citing the difficulties of earning a living in a creative field. It's a competitive world. Getting a BA or even a JD or MBA doesn't guarantee success these days. Why not pursue something you can put your heart into? Without forgetting that the good is often the enemy of the great. Remembering that mastery of one's chosen craft is the pursuit, not some half-assed-getting-through-it-status-quo-ancilliary-functionary-in-a-pseudo-creative-profession so you can buy an iPod, go on cool vacations and drive a Mini.
Writing scripts is inexpensive, at least compared to making Super16 short films. In light of Zach's absence and ascendence, the seeming success of London Calling, the support of a respected pro like Lisa Day, the dearth of good scripts reaching the studios and not least because of this week's big (secret) news -- I'm going to polish a few scripts and even knock out a couple of new ones over the next few months.
Maybe then I'll be making Bigger Pictures with someone else's money.
I'm fairly certain ff was always thinking in terms of bigger pictures.
ciao,
nc
Saturday, April 09, 2005
The Social Mask
May the outward and the inward person be at one.
-Socrates
We start my Beginning Professionals class with a lengthy warm-up session each Saturday morning.
We begin by connecting our feet to the floor. What does that mean? It means something different to each actor I'm sure. The exact sensation is not all that important to me. I'm simply trying to get actors to contact their instruments. It's sad that so many act from the neck up. Even sadder that there isn't much going on up there but a lot of self-conscious, narcisisistic banality in most cases.
So we move up the body, checking in with our knees, our hips, lifting our rib cages, we let gravity have its way with our shoulders, arms and hands. We level our heads, part our lips, droop our eyelids and, most importantly, drop our breath low in our bellies. It is by design that we start with our feet, deal only momentarily with our heads and let our fullest attention rest in our centers.
Many actor-students put the "good student" spin on initially, making sure to peek at me for approval. Don't look at me, I'll say. I want them to break this approval/disapproval cycle. I want them to trust that what is theirs is good enough so long as it is in the moment. Others will put on some sort of yoga meditation face. Those that do miss the point of my class and yoga, for that matter, though that's another rant. The point is not to relax. The point is to connect to one's body. To learn effortlessness. As Michael Caine notes, If you're knocking yourself out, you're doing it wrong.
Whatever the posture, attitude or mask, the point is often missed. I encourage them to chat about what they did last night. To verbally stream an inventory of the here and now. To drop the social mask. This proves too difficult for most. They hang on to me, rush through it or hide in some sort of pseudo-meditation. Being at one with one's inner and outer self is scary. One woman left my studio last year quipping, I can't stand to be observed so intensely.
An actor that doesn't want to be observed. Buona fortuna signorina.
ciao
signore dirretore
-Socrates
We start my Beginning Professionals class with a lengthy warm-up session each Saturday morning.
We begin by connecting our feet to the floor. What does that mean? It means something different to each actor I'm sure. The exact sensation is not all that important to me. I'm simply trying to get actors to contact their instruments. It's sad that so many act from the neck up. Even sadder that there isn't much going on up there but a lot of self-conscious, narcisisistic banality in most cases.
So we move up the body, checking in with our knees, our hips, lifting our rib cages, we let gravity have its way with our shoulders, arms and hands. We level our heads, part our lips, droop our eyelids and, most importantly, drop our breath low in our bellies. It is by design that we start with our feet, deal only momentarily with our heads and let our fullest attention rest in our centers.
Many actor-students put the "good student" spin on initially, making sure to peek at me for approval. Don't look at me, I'll say. I want them to break this approval/disapproval cycle. I want them to trust that what is theirs is good enough so long as it is in the moment. Others will put on some sort of yoga meditation face. Those that do miss the point of my class and yoga, for that matter, though that's another rant. The point is not to relax. The point is to connect to one's body. To learn effortlessness. As Michael Caine notes, If you're knocking yourself out, you're doing it wrong.
Whatever the posture, attitude or mask, the point is often missed. I encourage them to chat about what they did last night. To verbally stream an inventory of the here and now. To drop the social mask. This proves too difficult for most. They hang on to me, rush through it or hide in some sort of pseudo-meditation. Being at one with one's inner and outer self is scary. One woman left my studio last year quipping, I can't stand to be observed so intensely.
An actor that doesn't want to be observed. Buona fortuna signorina.
ciao
signore dirretore
Friday, April 08, 2005
The Master Says 001
There is no end. There is no beginning.
There is only the infinite passion of life.
ff
There is only the infinite passion of life.
ff
Money makes the vurld go round, the vurld go round ...
Stanley Kubrick said, Making movies is a pursuit for those who like spending loads of money. Or something along those lines. He was also known to be as tight-fisted with his wallet as they come. I’m at a money juncture. I have these projects lined up for the next few months and hopefully beyond. I want to keep things in-house as much as possible. But there’s not much of a roof over our heads at the moment. Also, at a certain point, one must not be too independent of a filmmaker.
Let me see if I can be more precise and digress a lot while I'm being precise:
London Calling is up at AlphaCine being processed. Should have it back early next week. Then it’s down to Austin to transfer it to video with my friend Joe Malina at Matchframe. I’m looking forward to getting away for a couple of days and I just finished a draft of a screenplay I’m writing for Producer Tommy Palotta. He’s in Austin producing Through a Scanner Darkly, so hopefully I’ll get to hook up with him and Rick Linklater while I’m down there. I met Rick once before through our mutual friend and mutual Knut Hamsun fan, Speed Levitch. Look for Rick to adapt one of Knut’s novels for the screen one day. Maybe he’ll hire me to write it. In the meantime check out Hamsun starring Max von Sydow to find out about one of my favorite authors. Better yet, read Growth of the Soil or Hunger.
So while I’m waiting for picture, sound needs to be digitized. We recorded sound for London Calling dual-system onto a DAT recorder. There’s a USB interface that I borrowed to convert the DATs to aiff files in Final Cut Pro. I’m still running FCP 3.0 And it didn’t like this audio interface, so I got FCP HD 4.5. Problem is my powerbook is still running OS X Jaguar and FCP HD 4.5 requires Panther. I’d buy Panther but Tiger is due out in two weeks. I’ve been waiting for Tiger and I don’t want to buy both in the span of two weeks.
I don’t think Federico Fellini ever considered this kind of trifle.
I posted for Assistant Editors and Interns on Craigslist and got some great responses. One chap lives round the corner and has a better system than I. He’s lacking in the skills department, so we might make a good match. I got mad skills, yo. Another shows promise as a director and is excited to help out and have me as a mentor. So I’ve got these two great guys and several others wanting to digitize my audio. I can’t tell you how dull that’s going to be. I’d rather write that junk about Panther, Jaguar and the other jungle cats over and over than digitize 5 reels of audio.
Some of the replies I got from my CL posting were from full-blown editors. I’ve been employed five years, blah, blah, blah as an editor. Good for you, but this is for an assistant gig: Lunch money, some training and experience, credit and a DVD copy. So this one dude that I see up on the indie producer’s board posting about every last thing, gets me into this email spat about how my compensation is wanting. I asked the dude what he was trolling the free gigs for if he’s a pro. He got all stroppy with me about that and ultimately threatened me with how he knows everybody in town and he supports local filmmakers and more blah. So I told him, hey I’m not trying to generate support, I’m trying to digitize some audio. You’re overqualified for the job and I’m busy, so let’s put this thing behind us. Good vibes, even though I wanted to tell the guy to shove it. He writes back yesterday asking if I’m cutting on Avid and could he come learn about the Avid. Ugh.
Monday, Zach and I went and met some editors for London Calling. A different Zach. Portland Zach. Zach Actor. No clack Zach. I’m a pretty good cutter, but I figured I would meet some folks around town. I think it’s both good and bad to cut your own stuff. In NY I have several pals that would cut this for me, but I’m not into a long-distance relationship with editors.
I meet this guy that supposedly commutes to Hollywood from Portland-- development deals, DGA member, hot-shot editor, etc. I think his CV is legit, but why does he want to cut an indie short if he’s got so much action down south? That’s the first thing I asked him. Cut to the chase, that’s my style. He says some mumbo-jumbo about building relationships, it’s a cool project, etc. I’m like, cool, but I get this 20/20 that he thinks I’m going to lay down some green. Righto. So we have lunch, discuss the project and play name-dropping hotshots for an hour. Then we talk money. I tell them a low but respectable number for cutting an indie short. The guy that owns the Avid was cool, but Hollywood looked like he was stuck in traffic. We won’t hear from them.
Next up was Wayne Paige at Digital Wave. He has a really nice suite in Sellwood and was very positive about working with us within our budget.
Have you noticed that I’m all over the place?
Yeah, me too.
I really want to be clear about my intentions. However, I’m not sure I’m wired that way. I rely on inspiration, I'm a rationalist -- the sum of the parts being more than the parts themselves.
Judah came and digitized Reel 1 of the audio. What a relief.
About the money juncture -- more will be revealed. Patience is not a virtue, at least in my case -- it’s a skill that I lack. I've yet give up entirely on its development, however.
A river dertch,
Sre. Dir.
Let me see if I can be more precise and digress a lot while I'm being precise:
London Calling is up at AlphaCine being processed. Should have it back early next week. Then it’s down to Austin to transfer it to video with my friend Joe Malina at Matchframe. I’m looking forward to getting away for a couple of days and I just finished a draft of a screenplay I’m writing for Producer Tommy Palotta. He’s in Austin producing Through a Scanner Darkly, so hopefully I’ll get to hook up with him and Rick Linklater while I’m down there. I met Rick once before through our mutual friend and mutual Knut Hamsun fan, Speed Levitch. Look for Rick to adapt one of Knut’s novels for the screen one day. Maybe he’ll hire me to write it. In the meantime check out Hamsun starring Max von Sydow to find out about one of my favorite authors. Better yet, read Growth of the Soil or Hunger.
So while I’m waiting for picture, sound needs to be digitized. We recorded sound for London Calling dual-system onto a DAT recorder. There’s a USB interface that I borrowed to convert the DATs to aiff files in Final Cut Pro. I’m still running FCP 3.0 And it didn’t like this audio interface, so I got FCP HD 4.5. Problem is my powerbook is still running OS X Jaguar and FCP HD 4.5 requires Panther. I’d buy Panther but Tiger is due out in two weeks. I’ve been waiting for Tiger and I don’t want to buy both in the span of two weeks.
I don’t think Federico Fellini ever considered this kind of trifle.
I posted for Assistant Editors and Interns on Craigslist and got some great responses. One chap lives round the corner and has a better system than I. He’s lacking in the skills department, so we might make a good match. I got mad skills, yo. Another shows promise as a director and is excited to help out and have me as a mentor. So I’ve got these two great guys and several others wanting to digitize my audio. I can’t tell you how dull that’s going to be. I’d rather write that junk about Panther, Jaguar and the other jungle cats over and over than digitize 5 reels of audio.
Some of the replies I got from my CL posting were from full-blown editors. I’ve been employed five years, blah, blah, blah as an editor. Good for you, but this is for an assistant gig: Lunch money, some training and experience, credit and a DVD copy. So this one dude that I see up on the indie producer’s board posting about every last thing, gets me into this email spat about how my compensation is wanting. I asked the dude what he was trolling the free gigs for if he’s a pro. He got all stroppy with me about that and ultimately threatened me with how he knows everybody in town and he supports local filmmakers and more blah. So I told him, hey I’m not trying to generate support, I’m trying to digitize some audio. You’re overqualified for the job and I’m busy, so let’s put this thing behind us. Good vibes, even though I wanted to tell the guy to shove it. He writes back yesterday asking if I’m cutting on Avid and could he come learn about the Avid. Ugh.
Monday, Zach and I went and met some editors for London Calling. A different Zach. Portland Zach. Zach Actor. No clack Zach. I’m a pretty good cutter, but I figured I would meet some folks around town. I think it’s both good and bad to cut your own stuff. In NY I have several pals that would cut this for me, but I’m not into a long-distance relationship with editors.
I meet this guy that supposedly commutes to Hollywood from Portland-- development deals, DGA member, hot-shot editor, etc. I think his CV is legit, but why does he want to cut an indie short if he’s got so much action down south? That’s the first thing I asked him. Cut to the chase, that’s my style. He says some mumbo-jumbo about building relationships, it’s a cool project, etc. I’m like, cool, but I get this 20/20 that he thinks I’m going to lay down some green. Righto. So we have lunch, discuss the project and play name-dropping hotshots for an hour. Then we talk money. I tell them a low but respectable number for cutting an indie short. The guy that owns the Avid was cool, but Hollywood looked like he was stuck in traffic. We won’t hear from them.
Next up was Wayne Paige at Digital Wave. He has a really nice suite in Sellwood and was very positive about working with us within our budget.
Have you noticed that I’m all over the place?
Yeah, me too.
I really want to be clear about my intentions. However, I’m not sure I’m wired that way. I rely on inspiration, I'm a rationalist -- the sum of the parts being more than the parts themselves.
Judah came and digitized Reel 1 of the audio. What a relief.
About the money juncture -- more will be revealed. Patience is not a virtue, at least in my case -- it’s a skill that I lack. I've yet give up entirely on its development, however.
A river dertch,
Sre. Dir.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
benvenuto amici
In the past few weeks I've been engaged in the production of a short film called London Calling. Where to begin? Where does any journey begin?
Pushing a shopping cart around Target. I was looking for makeup removal swabs for my wife while on the phone with the producer in NYC that optioned my screenplay Original Glory. Should we have Catherine Kellner give Ethan Hawke the screenplay, she's in Hurly Burly off-Broadway with him. As is Bobby Cannavale. Catherine and I are friends. Bobby and I drank together for a few weeks when I first moved to NY in '96. Ethan's gonna love it; but are we ready? Will he trust me, a first-time director in the long-form realm? You got to make a new short, Zach says from NY.
Ugh. A short. Fifteen thousand dollars for a ten minute movie that will never return a penny. I know, you've heard you can make a film on digital video for next to nothing. I've made a few of those, you want to see them? I'll show them to you, just don't say what most people say while they're watching them: Too bad these aren't on film.
Or you can shoot on film like my friend Nick Peterson does, one take, cut in the camera, voila! mini-masterpiece on the cheap. Nick and I work very differently. His work is great, I love it and encourage you to check it out. Where Nick's work is composed and orchestrated, I opt for organized chaos. Here's the frame, here's the blocking, here's the backstory, now let's see what's going to happen. I'll shape it a bit, but as long as the actors are being truthful and in the moment, it stays. I wrote it to be funny, it was funny in rehearsal, now we're on set and -- You're angry? Oh well, guess it's not going to be funny after all.
My rehearsal process is not about practicing the performance, but to discover the structure of the story and its relation to the actors I've cast.
I'll talk about casting next time. I need to run down to the studio for auditions for Dear Juanita.
A few weeks ago I didn't want to bother with any more shorts. Now I've got one in the can and two in pre-production.
ciao,
signore direttore
Pushing a shopping cart around Target. I was looking for makeup removal swabs for my wife while on the phone with the producer in NYC that optioned my screenplay Original Glory. Should we have Catherine Kellner give Ethan Hawke the screenplay, she's in Hurly Burly off-Broadway with him. As is Bobby Cannavale. Catherine and I are friends. Bobby and I drank together for a few weeks when I first moved to NY in '96. Ethan's gonna love it; but are we ready? Will he trust me, a first-time director in the long-form realm? You got to make a new short, Zach says from NY.
Ugh. A short. Fifteen thousand dollars for a ten minute movie that will never return a penny. I know, you've heard you can make a film on digital video for next to nothing. I've made a few of those, you want to see them? I'll show them to you, just don't say what most people say while they're watching them: Too bad these aren't on film.
Or you can shoot on film like my friend Nick Peterson does, one take, cut in the camera, voila! mini-masterpiece on the cheap. Nick and I work very differently. His work is great, I love it and encourage you to check it out. Where Nick's work is composed and orchestrated, I opt for organized chaos. Here's the frame, here's the blocking, here's the backstory, now let's see what's going to happen. I'll shape it a bit, but as long as the actors are being truthful and in the moment, it stays. I wrote it to be funny, it was funny in rehearsal, now we're on set and -- You're angry? Oh well, guess it's not going to be funny after all.
My rehearsal process is not about practicing the performance, but to discover the structure of the story and its relation to the actors I've cast.
I'll talk about casting next time. I need to run down to the studio for auditions for Dear Juanita.
A few weeks ago I didn't want to bother with any more shorts. Now I've got one in the can and two in pre-production.
ciao,
signore direttore
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)