The short film I've been working on as Pretty is now known as Polar.
I'm nearly finished, the deadline for NWFVF is Monday.
There are some shots of the actors swinging at a playground. The angle I chose to shoot them and the speed that they're swinging presents some problems visually. I tried to chop it down to minimize the swing shots, but the story was weakened. I almost fell prey to putting the visual look first. Maybe it will make this short more polished looking, but I'm not going for polished in the long run. Especially at the expense of the story. I did a little digital blur effect to simulate more natural movement and had I not mentioned it, I'm not sure there would be any notice taken.
Takes courage to let things be and to trust that my best, provided it is my best, at any given time is good enough.
There's a little sidebar interview with Lalo Shifrin in The Oregonian A&E section's Film Freak.
He says he always tells himself whatever project he's working on is the best film in the world.
That seems wise. And nothing like an easy thing to do for someone like me.
Too often I'm lamenting what I didn't acheive as I'm cutting a film. As if it's the last film I'll ever make.
sinceramente,
neal a. corl
Saturday, July 30, 2005
La Gioia
Just returned from a film shoot. I had a small part as a detective. Really basic lines of dialogue and only half a page total for the one scene. I looked it over a couple of times and did not have much inspiration. It wasn't bad at all, just very plain jane. What I did have was a certain degree of confidence in my ability to be in the moment and have fun with it. The director and DP set up a cool shot and let us work. He told us what he liked and stayed pretty clear. Indeed my instincts kicked in -- we did a couple of takes, I found some good stuff, everybody laughed and said great job, I signed a release and said my goodbyes.
I am somewhat ashamed to admit that I need to remind myself prior to such engagements that I have been asked to come down and contribute as an actor and nothing more. I am not a producer nor director nor any other of the myriad hats I wear at any given time on other projects.
To suit up, show up and shut up is a true joy.
I have nobody to resent, no remorse to suffer, no inventory to take. I can simply look forward to the news that the film is screening at some point in the near future.
This is the first time in a long time that it's been this clean.
I think I'm finally ready for a fresh start to clear the way for more inspired work on all fronts.
Thank goodness.
Ciao
signore direttore
I am somewhat ashamed to admit that I need to remind myself prior to such engagements that I have been asked to come down and contribute as an actor and nothing more. I am not a producer nor director nor any other of the myriad hats I wear at any given time on other projects.
To suit up, show up and shut up is a true joy.
I have nobody to resent, no remorse to suffer, no inventory to take. I can simply look forward to the news that the film is screening at some point in the near future.
This is the first time in a long time that it's been this clean.
I think I'm finally ready for a fresh start to clear the way for more inspired work on all fronts.
Thank goodness.
Ciao
signore direttore
Sunday, July 24, 2005
200 or so hours later …
The 72-Hour Film shoot went reasonably well. We drew classic film as our genre and we decided that meant Film Noir. There is a poll on the Filmerica Challenge website listing Classic as the genre least hoped for by far.
I was unable to stay clear of writing duties. The writing corps failed to produce anything coherent by hour seven, so the director asked me to take charge. Half an hour later we had a rough draft. And home I went to a puking child that kept me up for the few precious hours remaining of the night.
Our rehearsal process was nil and the head writer that had been shoved aside was now the AD. We clashed. It was ugly. Then we moved on. I liked the improvisational nature of the acting as I used takes to discover the writing and the character and story. Aislinn, my co-lead was great. I was supposed to seduce her, but her actual boyfreind had been cast in a supporting role, so I found myself tentative with that objective at times. I didn't feel much light in my eyes and the camera always seemed very distant. When I saw the film later on, it was as I feared. Wide. Way too wide.
They used two cameras. My theory on two camera shoots is it makes filmmakers lazy. As an actor I don't know which camera to play to. Likely why TV acting is so broad and general. Two cameras might be cool for closeups, but the lighting takes so long, might as well just turn around. As a director I like one camera closeups so I can give actors that need more time off-camera duty. As an actor I like to work in an up tempo rhythm, so I love to go first on the closeups.
There were some folks I really enjoyed working on the project. Some grew on me, some wore on me. One woman in particular still occupies a bit of space in my brain. Overall, it was a good experience. It could have gone a lot worse.
It's screening next Sunday at the Hollywood Theater at 6:30pm. I have a deadline Monday for something else I'm working on, but if I'm not pressed I'll probably go see my mug on the big screen.
We finished Pretty this week as well. Joey and Shari did a great job. I'm logging and capturing the footage right now. A lot of good stuff. There's a few things I'm not crazy about, but overall it's going to be a fine little film.
My children were in it. They were great. Henry had a couple of lines. He hit his mark and delivered his lines very consistently. I was quite proud and amazed. I allotted a lot of time for them, but they were in and out. Good thing too, because we had another unexpected problem that cost a fair bit of time.
Sometime in the first part of the day, Jack hurt his back and left me to finish the film by myself with the actors and the sound guy. It was very exhausting, but I set out to work with a small crew. A very small crew.
As we wrapped that schoolyard location, the police arrived. There had been a complaint that it seemed as if I was shooting scantily clad women in front of the school for the opening of a porn film. Shari was hardly scantily clad. I laughed it off with the cop and went on my way.
I have a small part in David Walker's feature, Uncle Tom's Apartment, this weekend. A racist cop.
Hey did I ever tell you the one about the …
A river dertch.
Signore Direttore
I was unable to stay clear of writing duties. The writing corps failed to produce anything coherent by hour seven, so the director asked me to take charge. Half an hour later we had a rough draft. And home I went to a puking child that kept me up for the few precious hours remaining of the night.
Our rehearsal process was nil and the head writer that had been shoved aside was now the AD. We clashed. It was ugly. Then we moved on. I liked the improvisational nature of the acting as I used takes to discover the writing and the character and story. Aislinn, my co-lead was great. I was supposed to seduce her, but her actual boyfreind had been cast in a supporting role, so I found myself tentative with that objective at times. I didn't feel much light in my eyes and the camera always seemed very distant. When I saw the film later on, it was as I feared. Wide. Way too wide.
They used two cameras. My theory on two camera shoots is it makes filmmakers lazy. As an actor I don't know which camera to play to. Likely why TV acting is so broad and general. Two cameras might be cool for closeups, but the lighting takes so long, might as well just turn around. As a director I like one camera closeups so I can give actors that need more time off-camera duty. As an actor I like to work in an up tempo rhythm, so I love to go first on the closeups.
There were some folks I really enjoyed working on the project. Some grew on me, some wore on me. One woman in particular still occupies a bit of space in my brain. Overall, it was a good experience. It could have gone a lot worse.
It's screening next Sunday at the Hollywood Theater at 6:30pm. I have a deadline Monday for something else I'm working on, but if I'm not pressed I'll probably go see my mug on the big screen.
We finished Pretty this week as well. Joey and Shari did a great job. I'm logging and capturing the footage right now. A lot of good stuff. There's a few things I'm not crazy about, but overall it's going to be a fine little film.
My children were in it. They were great. Henry had a couple of lines. He hit his mark and delivered his lines very consistently. I was quite proud and amazed. I allotted a lot of time for them, but they were in and out. Good thing too, because we had another unexpected problem that cost a fair bit of time.
Sometime in the first part of the day, Jack hurt his back and left me to finish the film by myself with the actors and the sound guy. It was very exhausting, but I set out to work with a small crew. A very small crew.
As we wrapped that schoolyard location, the police arrived. There had been a complaint that it seemed as if I was shooting scantily clad women in front of the school for the opening of a porn film. Shari was hardly scantily clad. I laughed it off with the cop and went on my way.
I have a small part in David Walker's feature, Uncle Tom's Apartment, this weekend. A racist cop.
Hey did I ever tell you the one about the …
A river dertch.
Signore Direttore
Friday, July 15, 2005
72 hours from now …
I will have another completed film credit to my name. We recieve our instructions from on high as to what genre and other specifics we are to include in our project that must be postmarked by Monday.
I think I'm opposed to this manner of working, but I've decided to check it out to speak from experience rather than conjecture. I've signed on as the leading man, so the impact should be lessened. Truthfully, I see it mainly as an exercise in patience. That strikes me as quite ironic, since the time frame is so precisely limited. The team/crew is very inexperienced, though in my experience filmmaking, especially digital filmmaking, doesn't attract the humble. There's usually a great deal of posturing and self-assurance. I have to admit I've swaggered unjustifiably myself. Ho-hum.
I really like the director, Jack Dahl. He is actually quite humble and level-headed. I wouldn't have agreed to this were it not for Jack. I want him to have a good experience. Therefore I want to behave myself. I wish it weren't a concern. Though I suppose I'm grateful that I know it's a concern and that I won't be at the complete mercy of my character deficiencies.
I have but one job to do -- act.
My goal is to do that job without informing the director and writers of their ignorance at every juncture. What a pompous ass I can be!
I really, truly hope that I can refrain from contributing unless directly asked for my input. It's such a chore to chime in and judge and silently scorn.
I'm also in the midst of making a short film of my own called Pretty. I hope to complete by the August 1 deadline for the Northwest Film and Video Festival. It's going okay. I've chosen to work with a minimal crew. I think we're one person short for it to work effectively. We had some sound issues the other night that completely overwhelmed me. Delegating that next time around. I'm finding it conflicting to work efficiently, cinematically and to offer the actors freedom. I've been guilty of moving the actors around quite a bit as I'm trying to tell the story visually/in the cuts. It's a more commercial style, but the goal is to balance that with some masters and 2 shots where the actors have a lot of freedom. I love Cassavetes, but it's quite dull cinematically for the most part.
Got to go,
nc
I think I'm opposed to this manner of working, but I've decided to check it out to speak from experience rather than conjecture. I've signed on as the leading man, so the impact should be lessened. Truthfully, I see it mainly as an exercise in patience. That strikes me as quite ironic, since the time frame is so precisely limited. The team/crew is very inexperienced, though in my experience filmmaking, especially digital filmmaking, doesn't attract the humble. There's usually a great deal of posturing and self-assurance. I have to admit I've swaggered unjustifiably myself. Ho-hum.
I really like the director, Jack Dahl. He is actually quite humble and level-headed. I wouldn't have agreed to this were it not for Jack. I want him to have a good experience. Therefore I want to behave myself. I wish it weren't a concern. Though I suppose I'm grateful that I know it's a concern and that I won't be at the complete mercy of my character deficiencies.
I have but one job to do -- act.
My goal is to do that job without informing the director and writers of their ignorance at every juncture. What a pompous ass I can be!
I really, truly hope that I can refrain from contributing unless directly asked for my input. It's such a chore to chime in and judge and silently scorn.
I'm also in the midst of making a short film of my own called Pretty. I hope to complete by the August 1 deadline for the Northwest Film and Video Festival. It's going okay. I've chosen to work with a minimal crew. I think we're one person short for it to work effectively. We had some sound issues the other night that completely overwhelmed me. Delegating that next time around. I'm finding it conflicting to work efficiently, cinematically and to offer the actors freedom. I've been guilty of moving the actors around quite a bit as I'm trying to tell the story visually/in the cuts. It's a more commercial style, but the goal is to balance that with some masters and 2 shots where the actors have a lot of freedom. I love Cassavetes, but it's quite dull cinematically for the most part.
Got to go,
nc
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Fodder and Folly
I have been remiss in relating the fodder and folly of a filmmaker's quest for mastery. My apologies. Truthfully I have not experienced much in the way of folly. Though I am off to a rehearsal for a new short short that I've written and am directing. Pretty Trendy Boy meets Hard Core Girl -- The tender beginnings of an unlikely relationship. And I agreed to act in a 72-Hour film project as well as a small role in David Walker's latest digital feature. Oh, I'm meeting with a photographer for headshots later today. Acting is weird, actually I'm cool with acting, it's the being an actor that weirds me out. It continues to feel alien to me in spite of so many years with it. I do enjoy it. I did a scene from Annie Hall with an actor-student last night that was a lot of fun.
In terms of fodder, I saw Miranda July's film and was very impressed and moved. There's a girl that has a hope chest which reminded me of my hours with the Montgomery Ward catalog at the age of five, planning and preparing every detail of my someday family. I went to Pendleton and saw my paternal grandmother and my father. Yeah. Boy. That's quite a journey, well beyond the 200 road miles. Sure to be some fodder in there. I did have my father killed by my best friend in Original Glory.
I read somewhere that true art is never auto-biographical. Though Fellini was absolutely exploring himself in his films.
Back in the day cinephiles and moviegoers divided between Fellini and Antonioni. I see the differences clearly, but love them both. My clear choices have yet to emerge. Favorite is an impossible prospect for me to consider. I might venture to say red is my favorite color, but I'd hate to commit to that. There's a lot of great colors out there.
You know Jung was in his seventies before he was able to extend the hand of friendship to himself.
Hopefully I'll live that long.
ciao,
signore direttore
In terms of fodder, I saw Miranda July's film and was very impressed and moved. There's a girl that has a hope chest which reminded me of my hours with the Montgomery Ward catalog at the age of five, planning and preparing every detail of my someday family. I went to Pendleton and saw my paternal grandmother and my father. Yeah. Boy. That's quite a journey, well beyond the 200 road miles. Sure to be some fodder in there. I did have my father killed by my best friend in Original Glory.
I read somewhere that true art is never auto-biographical. Though Fellini was absolutely exploring himself in his films.
Back in the day cinephiles and moviegoers divided between Fellini and Antonioni. I see the differences clearly, but love them both. My clear choices have yet to emerge. Favorite is an impossible prospect for me to consider. I might venture to say red is my favorite color, but I'd hate to commit to that. There's a lot of great colors out there.
You know Jung was in his seventies before he was able to extend the hand of friendship to himself.
Hopefully I'll live that long.
ciao,
signore direttore
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Il operaio fra gli operai
I believe that translates as the worker among workers. I'm fully prepared for it to be idiomatically incorrect as I do not admit to being fluent in Italian (nor English for that matter).
When I began this blog a few long weeks ago, I considered the fodder and folly to be wholly external. It was the world that was presenting annoying commonplace obstacles to the realization of my genius. Don't think for a minute that that arrogance is lost on me. Though it was entirely lost on me until very recently, a gross shortcoming for which I am trying to humbly account. I can't tell you exactly what happened, let's just say as I bent over the pond I couldn't stir the water in such a way or tilt my head to get the reflection I needed, so I took a lingering glance at what was really there. I didn't like what I saw and I acknowledged that it wasn't the first time that I saw such utter selfishness.
Rather than a complete retreat, to which I've consigned my life many times, I decided to stand firm and face truth's reckoning. I must not be seduced by the thought that this was some white light transformation, the flicking of a switch between dark and light. It is rather a reostat, moving from the dark to the dim. Dim to the solipsistic is very bright indeed. In the dimness, I see not a self-centered vision of, "Ain't in grand the wind stopped blowing", to genuine faith that, though I have but a tiny idea of the true brightness I seek, trudging forth will slowly bring a luminosity heretofore unimaginaed.
The lofty prose is befitting. Deal with it. Please. I would appreciate your patience. I need to learn patience. I need to learn a lot of things. Principally that I don't know everything. That you have something to teach me. Fellini learned from Rossellini. He wrote for him and even acted in The Miracle. My initial thought is that I too must find a worthy master to whom I will apprentice. Not a bad thought, but with what amounts to a fairly pessimistic outlook, I'm not sure anyone but a legend would suffice. Problematic to be sure. If I change my perspective ever so slightly, I could perhaps recognize that Fellini likely made the world his master and learned from it with true genius as is evidenced in his most humanistic work. So how did an ogre like me choose Fellini?
Admittedly, I simply like the way Finding Fellini sounds. I think the term Felliniesque, like surreal, is a giggle in its overuse. I absolutely admire the truth of his discovery and reconciliation of the external and the internal. His images are brilliant. Maybe too there's a humanist inside this oversized bulk of flesh. I hope so.
Yesterday I worked on a commercial as an actor. I fought symptoms of sabotage along the way. I managed to avoid it this time. On so many film sets, I have either disappeared or been the crazy-maker, judging the skills, talent and efficiency of all. I went into this one eager to have the experience. The experience of being a principal on a low-budget, though national, commercial. Of working in Portland. Of being directed by someone that did not initially impress me. (Who turns out share my exact birthday, August 23, 1967)
Of being a worker among workers.
Here's out it went. I showed up on time. I found the AD and said hello to the client, director and producers. I went to wardrobe. They weren't ready for me so I went out to set. I said hello to the DP, to whom I am acquianted. He was chilly and I couldn't help but think it had to do with me. He couldn't possibly be stressed and preoccupied with the task of shooting a commercial. I sat and chatted with the craft services girl about Glasgow, where my wife was born and this girl had lived for six years. I saw the lead actress arrive with Starbuck's for the director, producer and client. I saw her act like a star. I stopped myself from voicing my disdain out loud. I got called to wardrobe. I hated the initial options. I made a face to the director. A face that said, not my choice, but whatever you want. It was a tight sleeveless number that made me look like a "bear" marching in the gay pride parade. Remember Philip Seymour Hoffman's shirt in Boogie Nights? I was glad the client didn't like it. I changed clothes in front of the client. I let myself be looked at. It was the wardrobe they were judging. I was clear on that. But it didn't come easy, I have to admit. We did our blocking. I liked the woman playing my wife. She was a good actress. I worked with her. I acknowledged her talent and let it support me. Again I'm afraid I must admit that my first inclination was to assert my talent. I judged a lot of things. I fought myself a lot. But I put a good face on it for a change. It felt good to be a professional. And I didn't have to lurk about announcing it all goddamn day like the surly prick I've almost always been in the past.
I have an audition for a student film at the Art Institute today. A short. A zombie short, no less. Can you believe it?
I'm still waiting for somebody to pinch me.
Ciao amici,
nc
When I began this blog a few long weeks ago, I considered the fodder and folly to be wholly external. It was the world that was presenting annoying commonplace obstacles to the realization of my genius. Don't think for a minute that that arrogance is lost on me. Though it was entirely lost on me until very recently, a gross shortcoming for which I am trying to humbly account. I can't tell you exactly what happened, let's just say as I bent over the pond I couldn't stir the water in such a way or tilt my head to get the reflection I needed, so I took a lingering glance at what was really there. I didn't like what I saw and I acknowledged that it wasn't the first time that I saw such utter selfishness.
Rather than a complete retreat, to which I've consigned my life many times, I decided to stand firm and face truth's reckoning. I must not be seduced by the thought that this was some white light transformation, the flicking of a switch between dark and light. It is rather a reostat, moving from the dark to the dim. Dim to the solipsistic is very bright indeed. In the dimness, I see not a self-centered vision of, "Ain't in grand the wind stopped blowing", to genuine faith that, though I have but a tiny idea of the true brightness I seek, trudging forth will slowly bring a luminosity heretofore unimaginaed.
The lofty prose is befitting. Deal with it. Please. I would appreciate your patience. I need to learn patience. I need to learn a lot of things. Principally that I don't know everything. That you have something to teach me. Fellini learned from Rossellini. He wrote for him and even acted in The Miracle. My initial thought is that I too must find a worthy master to whom I will apprentice. Not a bad thought, but with what amounts to a fairly pessimistic outlook, I'm not sure anyone but a legend would suffice. Problematic to be sure. If I change my perspective ever so slightly, I could perhaps recognize that Fellini likely made the world his master and learned from it with true genius as is evidenced in his most humanistic work. So how did an ogre like me choose Fellini?
Admittedly, I simply like the way Finding Fellini sounds. I think the term Felliniesque, like surreal, is a giggle in its overuse. I absolutely admire the truth of his discovery and reconciliation of the external and the internal. His images are brilliant. Maybe too there's a humanist inside this oversized bulk of flesh. I hope so.
Yesterday I worked on a commercial as an actor. I fought symptoms of sabotage along the way. I managed to avoid it this time. On so many film sets, I have either disappeared or been the crazy-maker, judging the skills, talent and efficiency of all. I went into this one eager to have the experience. The experience of being a principal on a low-budget, though national, commercial. Of working in Portland. Of being directed by someone that did not initially impress me. (Who turns out share my exact birthday, August 23, 1967)
Of being a worker among workers.
Here's out it went. I showed up on time. I found the AD and said hello to the client, director and producers. I went to wardrobe. They weren't ready for me so I went out to set. I said hello to the DP, to whom I am acquianted. He was chilly and I couldn't help but think it had to do with me. He couldn't possibly be stressed and preoccupied with the task of shooting a commercial. I sat and chatted with the craft services girl about Glasgow, where my wife was born and this girl had lived for six years. I saw the lead actress arrive with Starbuck's for the director, producer and client. I saw her act like a star. I stopped myself from voicing my disdain out loud. I got called to wardrobe. I hated the initial options. I made a face to the director. A face that said, not my choice, but whatever you want. It was a tight sleeveless number that made me look like a "bear" marching in the gay pride parade. Remember Philip Seymour Hoffman's shirt in Boogie Nights? I was glad the client didn't like it. I changed clothes in front of the client. I let myself be looked at. It was the wardrobe they were judging. I was clear on that. But it didn't come easy, I have to admit. We did our blocking. I liked the woman playing my wife. She was a good actress. I worked with her. I acknowledged her talent and let it support me. Again I'm afraid I must admit that my first inclination was to assert my talent. I judged a lot of things. I fought myself a lot. But I put a good face on it for a change. It felt good to be a professional. And I didn't have to lurk about announcing it all goddamn day like the surly prick I've almost always been in the past.
I have an audition for a student film at the Art Institute today. A short. A zombie short, no less. Can you believe it?
I'm still waiting for somebody to pinch me.
Ciao amici,
nc
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Naturalmente
These past few days I've been wondering if I should succumb to a more conventional occupation to support my family. I've asked myself if the path I'm on is tenable and wise. If I should perhaps reassign my filmmaking aspirations to the realm of hobby.
There has been much self-examination. Attempts at a thorough inventory of my achievements up to now. Their viability as a demonstration of sure-fire talent. Assessment of potential profit of future projects. Consideration of methods and skills. Direct questioning. Cross-examination. Re-direct. Re-cross. I was moving toward closing arguments. Finalizing an assessment along the lines of dedicating an hour a day to screenwriting, a weekend every other month to directing and one night a week to teaching scene study. The rest of my hours dedicated to making an honest living with regular paychecks and health insurance.
Before I go off half-cocked in pursuit of real world legitimacy, perhaps an evaluation of my skills that I've built in all my years in the entertainment world is in order. I booked a job on a commercial as an actor next week. Should I try to get representation and more work as an actor? The money can be quite good and it might generate more interest in my acting studio. The fact is these gigs are few and far between, especially for a big lug like me. Besides I don't really want to run around trying to get jobs on corporate industrials. Nor do I want to do theater for very little money working for directors that I don't respect and that I'm fairly certain I could do a much better job than he or she. It may be hard to believe that I'm not putting it down, but, truly, I'm just expressing my lack of interest in such endeavors. Seems like a giant step sideways at best. What about doing some assistant directing or producing, maybe even some directing? The woman directing the commercial spot I'm in has done no more than direct a few short films. I tried to do some commercial work in NY. In the end I decided that I was better off focusing my energy on developing my chops with actors and writing. This is a smaller market certainly. I have a meeting with a local insider later this week to discuss potential commercial production opportunities locally. We'll see.
I presented a co-development opportunity to an actor friend today for a low-budget thriller to be shot in the next summer or two. It seemed as good a place as any to direct my focus for the next several months.
And then, an hour or so later, I got a phone call. Naturalmente. It was Michael Cassidy. He was short of breath. "I've got good news." Music to my ears. Of course he has good news. Why else would I be subjecting myself to such a survey?
His agent Larry Taube read Original Glory. He likes it. He says: It's quirky. The writing is excellent. What do you want me to do with this, Michael?
Michael says, I want to be in it and I want the writer to direct it. Larry says, Let me see what I can do. Tell Neal to have a list of all the actors he has in mind for the lead roles and that I'll call him next week.
Gulp. Somebody frickin pinch me, please!
This past week's scrutiny has been incredibly humbling. I'm going to need humility in spades to patiently proceed with the task of doing all that I can to prepare for the production of Original Glory, knowing full well that there is a long uncertain road ahead. There is no guarantee that this film will get made. However, until they stop returning my calls I'm acting as if it's going to get made. I'm not going to write any checks, legal tender or otherwise, that I can't cash, but …
But what? Let's just say I'm going to do my best to keep my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds.
i nostri cordiali saluti,
signore direttore
There has been much self-examination. Attempts at a thorough inventory of my achievements up to now. Their viability as a demonstration of sure-fire talent. Assessment of potential profit of future projects. Consideration of methods and skills. Direct questioning. Cross-examination. Re-direct. Re-cross. I was moving toward closing arguments. Finalizing an assessment along the lines of dedicating an hour a day to screenwriting, a weekend every other month to directing and one night a week to teaching scene study. The rest of my hours dedicated to making an honest living with regular paychecks and health insurance.
Before I go off half-cocked in pursuit of real world legitimacy, perhaps an evaluation of my skills that I've built in all my years in the entertainment world is in order. I booked a job on a commercial as an actor next week. Should I try to get representation and more work as an actor? The money can be quite good and it might generate more interest in my acting studio. The fact is these gigs are few and far between, especially for a big lug like me. Besides I don't really want to run around trying to get jobs on corporate industrials. Nor do I want to do theater for very little money working for directors that I don't respect and that I'm fairly certain I could do a much better job than he or she. It may be hard to believe that I'm not putting it down, but, truly, I'm just expressing my lack of interest in such endeavors. Seems like a giant step sideways at best. What about doing some assistant directing or producing, maybe even some directing? The woman directing the commercial spot I'm in has done no more than direct a few short films. I tried to do some commercial work in NY. In the end I decided that I was better off focusing my energy on developing my chops with actors and writing. This is a smaller market certainly. I have a meeting with a local insider later this week to discuss potential commercial production opportunities locally. We'll see.
I presented a co-development opportunity to an actor friend today for a low-budget thriller to be shot in the next summer or two. It seemed as good a place as any to direct my focus for the next several months.
And then, an hour or so later, I got a phone call. Naturalmente. It was Michael Cassidy. He was short of breath. "I've got good news." Music to my ears. Of course he has good news. Why else would I be subjecting myself to such a survey?
His agent Larry Taube read Original Glory. He likes it. He says: It's quirky. The writing is excellent. What do you want me to do with this, Michael?
Michael says, I want to be in it and I want the writer to direct it. Larry says, Let me see what I can do. Tell Neal to have a list of all the actors he has in mind for the lead roles and that I'll call him next week.
Gulp. Somebody frickin pinch me, please!
This past week's scrutiny has been incredibly humbling. I'm going to need humility in spades to patiently proceed with the task of doing all that I can to prepare for the production of Original Glory, knowing full well that there is a long uncertain road ahead. There is no guarantee that this film will get made. However, until they stop returning my calls I'm acting as if it's going to get made. I'm not going to write any checks, legal tender or otherwise, that I can't cash, but …
But what? Let's just say I'm going to do my best to keep my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds.
i nostri cordiali saluti,
signore direttore
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Convalescence
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.
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.
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
Semplicità
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
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