I emailed Cam Archer to let him know how much I loved Wild Tigers I Have Known.
He responded, letting me know it will be released this fall.
Ciao,
Signore Direttore
Monday, May 01, 2006
Saturday, April 29, 2006
It Didn't Kill Me
Saw Cam Archer's Wild Tigers I Have Known at the PDX Fest last night. It blew me away. I was tired and certainly had some fidgets, but what a mindblower. I liked it so much. I found so much emotional truth in it. So many memories. Nick Peterson was there and I ran down to chat as soon as the lights came up. Though it was more stylized than Nick might usually go for, I had the feeling he would share my love for the film . I was right -- he loved it as much as I. Nick said the film made him feel as if his films were but technical exercises. He mentioned relating to the exact things I did, one of which was the phone calls. I'm not going to say more, you should find a way to see theis film. An unexpected turn was the body graffiti IT DIDN'T KILL ME.
So so so much in that.
This morning I rehearsed a song with someone. We're preparing a duet of Sister Morphine as a lark. I am not a singer. Nor am I a guitar player. My partner is and it was immediately obvious he thought I was bringing more to the table than I am. He was patient as we found a way to strum chords and alternate lines, coming together as we felt it. So cool. I let myself use what limited skills I have. I trusted it would be good enough. Of course it was. It was not good in a way that I'm thinking of charging admission. But I can tell you this:
It didn't kill me.
Only one thing will and that's not for me to determine.
Viva,
Signore Direttore
So so so much in that.
This morning I rehearsed a song with someone. We're preparing a duet of Sister Morphine as a lark. I am not a singer. Nor am I a guitar player. My partner is and it was immediately obvious he thought I was bringing more to the table than I am. He was patient as we found a way to strum chords and alternate lines, coming together as we felt it. So cool. I let myself use what limited skills I have. I trusted it would be good enough. Of course it was. It was not good in a way that I'm thinking of charging admission. But I can tell you this:
It didn't kill me.
Only one thing will and that's not for me to determine.
Viva,
Signore Direttore
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Full Circle
Another Spring and another script from the author of High Desert Psalmist. The synopsis he handed to me a week ago didn't grab me. Someone told me the script was worth a read. I found out what the writer wanted from me prior to reading it. I sensed he had learned some things since our last attempt to work together, so I agreed to read his latest.
If your eyes move side to side as you scan the page as they do when reading a book - it's no good. A screenplay is not a novel. Its non-prose format is not arbitrary. The form serves the medium as a blueprint for film construction. The beats are articulated in a certain manner. Dialogue is concentrated. The white of the page offers the subtext its unwritten place on the page. Visualization occurs as the eyes fly down the center of the page. Turning page after page, scene after scene. One flowing into the next.
I can get through a well written script of 120 pages in 45 minutes. I spent an hour and a half on this 111 pager and didn't make it to the third act. The second act started on page three. Its dozens of pages went on and on, going only to places I've seen before. Places that weren't that interesting the first time around. Situations to which I do not connect. Stories that I do not want to tell.
I really like this guy. I would love to work with him, both for the experience and to give him the opportunity to see his words come to life. But for me, the words have to come off the page. If ain't on the page, it ain't gonna be on the screen. Liking someone or wanting to be part of a film getting made doesn't a good screenplay make.
I'm going to have to pass on this one.
Oh well.
Lastima,
Signore Direttore
If your eyes move side to side as you scan the page as they do when reading a book - it's no good. A screenplay is not a novel. Its non-prose format is not arbitrary. The form serves the medium as a blueprint for film construction. The beats are articulated in a certain manner. Dialogue is concentrated. The white of the page offers the subtext its unwritten place on the page. Visualization occurs as the eyes fly down the center of the page. Turning page after page, scene after scene. One flowing into the next.
I can get through a well written script of 120 pages in 45 minutes. I spent an hour and a half on this 111 pager and didn't make it to the third act. The second act started on page three. Its dozens of pages went on and on, going only to places I've seen before. Places that weren't that interesting the first time around. Situations to which I do not connect. Stories that I do not want to tell.
I really like this guy. I would love to work with him, both for the experience and to give him the opportunity to see his words come to life. But for me, the words have to come off the page. If ain't on the page, it ain't gonna be on the screen. Liking someone or wanting to be part of a film getting made doesn't a good screenplay make.
I'm going to have to pass on this one.
Oh well.
Lastima,
Signore Direttore
Practice
I've been practicing the following:
Thinking about film and seeing films critically without being a critic. Rather I am seeking to advance my own understanding of the art form as well as my own process.
Allowing myself to dislike films without indicting the filmmaker.
Trusting the generosity of audiences without judgment.
Allowing whatever happens to inform my experience of the here and now.
Being gentle.
Asking for help.
Accepting help.
Admitting that I am wrong.
Believing stones can float.
Letting go.
Gratitude.
Buona Sera,
Signore Direttore
Thinking about film and seeing films critically without being a critic. Rather I am seeking to advance my own understanding of the art form as well as my own process.
Allowing myself to dislike films without indicting the filmmaker.
Trusting the generosity of audiences without judgment.
Allowing whatever happens to inform my experience of the here and now.
Being gentle.
Asking for help.
Accepting help.
Admitting that I am wrong.
Believing stones can float.
Letting go.
Gratitude.
Buona Sera,
Signore Direttore
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Matt's Manifesto
"This is not the entertainment industry," it reads, but "folk art for a high tech society" that represents "a small victory over the monopoly that Hollywood and the corporate media have on our culture. . . THIS IS THE INTERNATIONAL CINEMATIC UNDERGROUND."
Matt McCormick
Matt McCormick
Sunday, April 23, 2006
You Are My Sunshine
There's a magic thing that happens when people get together. I mean really get together. I've been hanging around all kinds of people in all kinds of places for many years and remained very alone.
Suppose I was protecting myself. In some cases I was protecting others from me. Over time, more so recently, I've been letting the armor fall away bit by bit. It certainly is a vulnerable thing. I scare others. Especially when I myself am scared. Which I am when I strip away the things I have relied upon for protection.
I am intense. My mind moves very fast. Way way way ahead of my mouth. My mouth tries to keep up. Frustration. Don't yell, keep talking. It will come out. This will take practice. People tell me that though they trust I won't be violent, they feel as if they're in danger of being hit.
For many years I did exactly that - lashed out verbally and physically. Worse yet, I ran away or rejected. I was often like an animal.
Raw. Intense. Unpredictable.
It drew people to me. It scared them away. It excited people. It hurt people.
Though I keep my hands to myself and my voice moderate more often than not, this thing is still present.
This came up with a friend yesterday morning. I tried to own my behavior while acknowleding the progress I've made.
Last night one of my students said this to me, "You're our teacher. We look up to you for your wisdom and your experience. We don't understand that you might suffer from any self-doubt or inadequacy when we put ourselves in your hands. I've seen you struggle. I've wondered if we were on the same side at times. But I've trusted and we've always come through in ways that have been intensely rewarding and exciting."
I asked him if it that type of intensity is not present in any project that's worthwhile.
He simply said, "No, not really."
That really went to my core. I refrained from judging the merits of the many projects on his resume. Something I would have done in the past to protect myself. Instead I accepted what he said almost as simply as he said "No, not really."
"You remember when you said to me, and you were joking, but as with all jests there's truth in it - This thing is going to go a lot better if you can read my mind." I recall saying it in an attempt to make light of the tendency I have to get ahead of myself. To assume others are with me. Or even ahead of me. I don't give myself credit. I'm waiting for someone to call me an idiot at every turn. I feel like I'm playing catch up. Getting left behind. I rush to keep pace, leaving others in my wake. In trying to catch up, I pass them by.
This kind of stuff is tough to admit. Tough to face. It would be nice to ignore it. To excuse my intensity as an artist's temperament. To point fingers. To avoid. To go to extremes. Rash judgments. Move to Mexico.
Speaking of the land so far from God and so close to the United States: I ran into an an old friend last night. He told me the letter I sent to him from Mexico in 1995 broke his heart. I didn't remember the letter. He said, "You don't remember. Do you remember living in Mexico?" Of course I remember living in Mexico. What do you think? That I'm some kind of idiot? (Oh, by the way - Here we go again.) Apparently the letter I wrote informed him I wasn't coming back, that I was going in a new direction. That I wished him the best in finding a new mentor. "It ripped my heart out. You had the light in you and you turned it out."
You know, the turn I took in Mexico was very selfish. Extremely so. Me, me, me. Yo, yo, yo.
I'm coming around to the light. I am showing up in places where I meet my old friend Mark. People who knew me when. I'm listening when H reminds me to allow others into my process. To be gentle. I'm listening when D tells me my authoritative presence is overwhelming. That I've changed but I'm not in the clear.
There's no place to run. No place to hide.
Might as well come out into the sunshine.
Grazie,
Signore Direttore
Suppose I was protecting myself. In some cases I was protecting others from me. Over time, more so recently, I've been letting the armor fall away bit by bit. It certainly is a vulnerable thing. I scare others. Especially when I myself am scared. Which I am when I strip away the things I have relied upon for protection.
I am intense. My mind moves very fast. Way way way ahead of my mouth. My mouth tries to keep up. Frustration. Don't yell, keep talking. It will come out. This will take practice. People tell me that though they trust I won't be violent, they feel as if they're in danger of being hit.
For many years I did exactly that - lashed out verbally and physically. Worse yet, I ran away or rejected. I was often like an animal.
Raw. Intense. Unpredictable.
It drew people to me. It scared them away. It excited people. It hurt people.
Though I keep my hands to myself and my voice moderate more often than not, this thing is still present.
This came up with a friend yesterday morning. I tried to own my behavior while acknowleding the progress I've made.
Last night one of my students said this to me, "You're our teacher. We look up to you for your wisdom and your experience. We don't understand that you might suffer from any self-doubt or inadequacy when we put ourselves in your hands. I've seen you struggle. I've wondered if we were on the same side at times. But I've trusted and we've always come through in ways that have been intensely rewarding and exciting."
I asked him if it that type of intensity is not present in any project that's worthwhile.
He simply said, "No, not really."
That really went to my core. I refrained from judging the merits of the many projects on his resume. Something I would have done in the past to protect myself. Instead I accepted what he said almost as simply as he said "No, not really."
"You remember when you said to me, and you were joking, but as with all jests there's truth in it - This thing is going to go a lot better if you can read my mind." I recall saying it in an attempt to make light of the tendency I have to get ahead of myself. To assume others are with me. Or even ahead of me. I don't give myself credit. I'm waiting for someone to call me an idiot at every turn. I feel like I'm playing catch up. Getting left behind. I rush to keep pace, leaving others in my wake. In trying to catch up, I pass them by.
This kind of stuff is tough to admit. Tough to face. It would be nice to ignore it. To excuse my intensity as an artist's temperament. To point fingers. To avoid. To go to extremes. Rash judgments. Move to Mexico.
Speaking of the land so far from God and so close to the United States: I ran into an an old friend last night. He told me the letter I sent to him from Mexico in 1995 broke his heart. I didn't remember the letter. He said, "You don't remember. Do you remember living in Mexico?" Of course I remember living in Mexico. What do you think? That I'm some kind of idiot? (Oh, by the way - Here we go again.) Apparently the letter I wrote informed him I wasn't coming back, that I was going in a new direction. That I wished him the best in finding a new mentor. "It ripped my heart out. You had the light in you and you turned it out."
You know, the turn I took in Mexico was very selfish. Extremely so. Me, me, me. Yo, yo, yo.
I'm coming around to the light. I am showing up in places where I meet my old friend Mark. People who knew me when. I'm listening when H reminds me to allow others into my process. To be gentle. I'm listening when D tells me my authoritative presence is overwhelming. That I've changed but I'm not in the clear.
There's no place to run. No place to hide.
Might as well come out into the sunshine.
Grazie,
Signore Direttore
Friday, April 21, 2006
Stracco
I'm seventy or so hours of work into this week and Friday is just getting started. I'm working Saturday morning as well. That's about fifty Gearhead hours so far, five teaching acting, two in meetings, three in screenings, eight writing and two coaching tee ball.
I'm feeling restless, irritable and discontent.
My brow is knit. My back is hunched.
I saw this woman on the set of a music video this morning that I used to spend a lot of time with in NYC circa 1997. I really hope she is up from LA for this thing and not living in town working in the same sphere as I.
I'm looking for a day to take off from Gearhead next week. I've been riding my bike(s) this week. The retreat is coming up. And a family trip to Bend to see Beck and stay in a condo up at Mt. Bachelor for the long holiday weekend.
I'm reading Sometimes a Great Notion. I'm happy about that.
What it really comes down to is that I'm very tired. I need some rest. Until I can manage that, I'll have to take it easy on myself and others.
Ciao,
Signore Direttore
I'm feeling restless, irritable and discontent.
My brow is knit. My back is hunched.
I saw this woman on the set of a music video this morning that I used to spend a lot of time with in NYC circa 1997. I really hope she is up from LA for this thing and not living in town working in the same sphere as I.
I'm looking for a day to take off from Gearhead next week. I've been riding my bike(s) this week. The retreat is coming up. And a family trip to Bend to see Beck and stay in a condo up at Mt. Bachelor for the long holiday weekend.
I'm reading Sometimes a Great Notion. I'm happy about that.
What it really comes down to is that I'm very tired. I need some rest. Until I can manage that, I'll have to take it easy on myself and others.
Ciao,
Signore Direttore
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Circumstantial Evidence
The other day I wrote of suspiscions regarding a colleaugue's interst in working with me. Today that friend is in town. We had breakfast. It was great to see him. There was no need for me to even bring up my allegations, because they are in my head. Unsubstantiated reactions to a change in circumstances.
My mother died from a gunshot wound to the head. At the time, her sisters and her paramour strongly believed my stepfather was the shooter. Eleven detectives and two FBI agents investigated the case for six months. My step-father was interrogated but never arrested. Nothing more than circumstantial evidence was uncovered. The Distict Attorney would not accept the case because of the lack of hard evidence.
I'm not drawing any conclusions here. Just saying what comes to mind.
I am, however, drawn to the idea that my willingness to make a case for the injustices I suffer in every day life is born out of an inner need to solve the big mystery of my mother's death. Intellectually I say I have let go of the answer. Perhaps that is not entirely true.
I honestly do not know.
Again, more will be revealed.
Pasta and Bagels,
Signore Direttore
My mother died from a gunshot wound to the head. At the time, her sisters and her paramour strongly believed my stepfather was the shooter. Eleven detectives and two FBI agents investigated the case for six months. My step-father was interrogated but never arrested. Nothing more than circumstantial evidence was uncovered. The Distict Attorney would not accept the case because of the lack of hard evidence.
I'm not drawing any conclusions here. Just saying what comes to mind.
I am, however, drawn to the idea that my willingness to make a case for the injustices I suffer in every day life is born out of an inner need to solve the big mystery of my mother's death. Intellectually I say I have let go of the answer. Perhaps that is not entirely true.
I honestly do not know.
Again, more will be revealed.
Pasta and Bagels,
Signore Direttore
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Yesterday ...
... all my troubles seemed not all far away.
Started the day without hearing from any of the players I sent emails to regarding an upcoming collaborative project. Next I met with a payroll accountant and discovered that I'm paying 80% of my Gearhead wages to our nanny and my new assistant. Since both do tasks that are far from thankless - taking care of my children and my projects - I am posed with a bit of a conflict. I had to eat lunch on the fly out at Freightliner dealing with an electrical issue with one of the Gearhead trucks - so no lunch writing happened yesterday. Then because that fiasco took four hours out of my day I had to go back to Gearhead after teaching class. So as I'm all stacked up -- overworked and overextended -- I get four phone calls in the two hours before class letting me know that I will have four students without their scene partners in class. In spite of reasonable and understandable excuses for missing class, whenever such a mass absence coincidence occurs I get a bit skittish. I begin to question the commitments of actors. Whether or not I should bother trying to keep the studio going ... blah blah bleck What's worse is that as I write, I often do so for actors I know. When the actors in class, the actors I work with most regularly, demonstrate what I percieve as a lack of commitment, I feel threatened. A good example is a student commited to the retreat next month has a job as a receptionist at a hair salon. They may not grant her the time off, even with a month's notice. If this young actor is commited to acting, why is the crappo job the subject of so much of our correspondence? Next I got an email form the guy that's been fucking around with me for a year regarding the sound for London Calling telling me he is leaving for a job until September.
In this state of mind, I am not at ease. Focusing on the negative begets more of the same. Soon I was focusing on the fact that since I told MC of my humility regarding the direction of OG, I seldom hear from him. Whereas I heard from him every few days prior to my admission. I quickly had a lot of judgments of him running through my mind.
So I worked until two am at Gearhead after teaching class. That made it a nice and long eighteen hour day. At the end of it and at the beginning of today - I tell myself this: The only thing left for me to do is do the next right thing. I can't figure it all out. I can only do the work ahead of me. Which is not as complicated or as difficult as the bullshit above. It's a lot more seductive to focus on the negative. Perhaps with practice, focusing on the work becomes more habitual. I know this to be true. Because even a short time ago, I was unable to access anything but the occasional inspiration inorder to work at all.
This too shall pass.
Ciao,
Signore Direttore
Started the day without hearing from any of the players I sent emails to regarding an upcoming collaborative project. Next I met with a payroll accountant and discovered that I'm paying 80% of my Gearhead wages to our nanny and my new assistant. Since both do tasks that are far from thankless - taking care of my children and my projects - I am posed with a bit of a conflict. I had to eat lunch on the fly out at Freightliner dealing with an electrical issue with one of the Gearhead trucks - so no lunch writing happened yesterday. Then because that fiasco took four hours out of my day I had to go back to Gearhead after teaching class. So as I'm all stacked up -- overworked and overextended -- I get four phone calls in the two hours before class letting me know that I will have four students without their scene partners in class. In spite of reasonable and understandable excuses for missing class, whenever such a mass absence coincidence occurs I get a bit skittish. I begin to question the commitments of actors. Whether or not I should bother trying to keep the studio going ... blah blah bleck What's worse is that as I write, I often do so for actors I know. When the actors in class, the actors I work with most regularly, demonstrate what I percieve as a lack of commitment, I feel threatened. A good example is a student commited to the retreat next month has a job as a receptionist at a hair salon. They may not grant her the time off, even with a month's notice. If this young actor is commited to acting, why is the crappo job the subject of so much of our correspondence? Next I got an email form the guy that's been fucking around with me for a year regarding the sound for London Calling telling me he is leaving for a job until September.
In this state of mind, I am not at ease. Focusing on the negative begets more of the same. Soon I was focusing on the fact that since I told MC of my humility regarding the direction of OG, I seldom hear from him. Whereas I heard from him every few days prior to my admission. I quickly had a lot of judgments of him running through my mind.
So I worked until two am at Gearhead after teaching class. That made it a nice and long eighteen hour day. At the end of it and at the beginning of today - I tell myself this: The only thing left for me to do is do the next right thing. I can't figure it all out. I can only do the work ahead of me. Which is not as complicated or as difficult as the bullshit above. It's a lot more seductive to focus on the negative. Perhaps with practice, focusing on the work becomes more habitual. I know this to be true. Because even a short time ago, I was unable to access anything but the occasional inspiration inorder to work at all.
This too shall pass.
Ciao,
Signore Direttore
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Un Poem 002
it seems a terrible way to live:
wanting someone to listen to
other than the voices in my head
too scared to tell them to shut it
afraid no one else
will have a thing to say
i stopped looking at my shoes for once
and raised my eyes to the stars
on a clear cold night in the woods
they were up there shining bright
as they always are
if only i raised my eyes more often
maybe the voices in my head
would stop bickering
about the nonsense i rely upon
to feel in control
wanting someone to listen to
other than the voices in my head
too scared to tell them to shut it
afraid no one else
will have a thing to say
i stopped looking at my shoes for once
and raised my eyes to the stars
on a clear cold night in the woods
they were up there shining bright
as they always are
if only i raised my eyes more often
maybe the voices in my head
would stop bickering
about the nonsense i rely upon
to feel in control
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Folk Wisdom 004
Consider the work of God;
who can make straight what he has made crooked?
Ecclesiastes 7:13 (RSV)
who can make straight what he has made crooked?
Ecclesiastes 7:13 (RSV)
No More Yucky Stuff
Tonight we were watching Six Feet Under Season 4, the one where David gets abducted by the crackhead. I love SFU, but I was really not into that episode. I said aloud, what's Claire doing? Let's go find Claire or Mother Fisher. I wanted to get back to the stories and their characters.
Last weekend I felt similar feelings watching a film at Longbaugh. There was a rape scene and a couple of other desperate sex scenes. I didn't like them. I felt exploited along with the actors.
I'm outlining yet another screenplay this week. It was on a course to be a noirish thriller, but I quickly reined it back to something exploring the characters' deepest needs and the ways they try and fail to get them met. I suppose the better films noir do the same. That's not where mine was headed.
It feels better. Not in any moralistic way, it's just something I can connect to and would want to watch.
It's both more challenging and yet easier to accomplish. Probably because discovering what is kind and loving in me is closer to me than icky stuff.
To the discovery of to thine ownself be true ... huzzah!
Nighty-night,
Signore Direttore
Last weekend I felt similar feelings watching a film at Longbaugh. There was a rape scene and a couple of other desperate sex scenes. I didn't like them. I felt exploited along with the actors.
I'm outlining yet another screenplay this week. It was on a course to be a noirish thriller, but I quickly reined it back to something exploring the characters' deepest needs and the ways they try and fail to get them met. I suppose the better films noir do the same. That's not where mine was headed.
It feels better. Not in any moralistic way, it's just something I can connect to and would want to watch.
It's both more challenging and yet easier to accomplish. Probably because discovering what is kind and loving in me is closer to me than icky stuff.
To the discovery of to thine ownself be true ... huzzah!
Nighty-night,
Signore Direttore
Friday, April 14, 2006
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
The Master Says 026
We cannot change anything unless we accept it. Condemnation does not liberate, it oppresses.
Carl Jung
Carl Jung
Spring Cleaning
Last Fall was a busy time for me - moving house, starting a day job, teaching, final rewrites of Original Glory and having our third child. So when we moved, my office was the last priority. It was tossed into a forgotten bedroom downstairs and ransacked over the past few months when something was needed. But today, oh glorious seventy degrees and sunny with the cherry blossoms in full bloom day that it was, my office was put in order. The editing suite is up and running.
My new assistant Jordan Karr-Morse started today. I think we'll be doing great things together in the coming months. He's a very talented DOP, as they call cinematographers in Britain where he was trained and has been working. Even if the greatness extends only to finishing some long-neglected unfinished short films, we'll be well ahead of the current status quo of dusty tapes.
One of the things Jordan is scheduled to assist me with is the Spring Actors Retreat taking place next month. We've rented a lodge up at Mount Hood and will be going up there to rehearse and shoot some scenes. The group commited to go is a dedicated and talented bunch. I'm sure we'll learn a bit and have a swell time in the mountain air.
I really love seeing all the cherry blossoms, especially the heavy, dark pink ones.
Ciao,
Signore Direttore
My new assistant Jordan Karr-Morse started today. I think we'll be doing great things together in the coming months. He's a very talented DOP, as they call cinematographers in Britain where he was trained and has been working. Even if the greatness extends only to finishing some long-neglected unfinished short films, we'll be well ahead of the current status quo of dusty tapes.
One of the things Jordan is scheduled to assist me with is the Spring Actors Retreat taking place next month. We've rented a lodge up at Mount Hood and will be going up there to rehearse and shoot some scenes. The group commited to go is a dedicated and talented bunch. I'm sure we'll learn a bit and have a swell time in the mountain air.
I really love seeing all the cherry blossoms, especially the heavy, dark pink ones.
Ciao,
Signore Direttore
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Pop Quiz 2006
1. Would you know a great script if you read it?
Yes. However I am often eager to be generous and therefore forego asking some tough questions of scripts. I'm learning more about identifying story structure.
2. Have you ever raised money for a dream?
Yes. Moreover I have earned huge amounts of money on events that I created based on nothing more than personal taste.
3. Can you make people believe in you?
Yes.
4. Are you anal and meticulous?
God yes.
5. Is saying no easy for you?
Not consistently or cleanly. I'm working on it.
6. Are you ready for an emotional marathon?
No. I'm working on it. I can say that I am improving significantly in regards to not adding unnecessary drama to stressful situations.
7. Are you really creative?
Yes. It's tough to acknowledge that without some humility or self-doubt.
Yes. However I am often eager to be generous and therefore forego asking some tough questions of scripts. I'm learning more about identifying story structure.
2. Have you ever raised money for a dream?
Yes. Moreover I have earned huge amounts of money on events that I created based on nothing more than personal taste.
3. Can you make people believe in you?
Yes.
4. Are you anal and meticulous?
God yes.
5. Is saying no easy for you?
Not consistently or cleanly. I'm working on it.
6. Are you ready for an emotional marathon?
No. I'm working on it. I can say that I am improving significantly in regards to not adding unnecessary drama to stressful situations.
7. Are you really creative?
Yes. It's tough to acknowledge that without some humility or self-doubt.
Gun :: Briefcase
All you need to make a film is a girl and a gun.
- Godard
You can steal more money with a briefcase than you can with a gun.
- My father
All you need to make a film is a briefcase and a miscreant for a father.
- Me
- Godard
You can steal more money with a briefcase than you can with a gun.
- My father
All you need to make a film is a briefcase and a miscreant for a father.
- Me
Friday, April 07, 2006
Grazie
Today marks the one year anniversary of this weblog. I can not adequately express the importance of maintaining a public record of the process of the tremendous growth and change in my professional and personal lives, which are inextricable.
There are a number of people that I have had the privilege of having in my life this past year. I will try to remember them all.
I want to especially thank David Millstone for inpsiring me to get this started and for his dedicated blogging and readership.
My wife Nicola
Henry
Maisie
June
Dave Hansen
Philip Kenney
Zach Sherman
Michael Cassidy
Andrew Dickson
All of the wonderful actor-students I have the honor to have in the studio
Steve Doughton
The cast and crew of London Calling
Derek - High Desert Psalmist
Joey Boyd
Greg Schmitt
Joel Stirnkorb
Peter Kahn
Zach Mortensen
Tommy Pallotta
Heath Lourwood
Greg Foley
Travis Huntington
The cast and crew of Uncle Tom's Apartment
David Walker
Ryan Artists
Jeffery Hasseler
Lounne Moldovan
Beth
Chris Hornbecker
Jack Dahl
The cast and crew of The Color of Ambition
Robert Hicks
Gearhead Studio Rentals
Michael / Koerner Camera
The anonymous Finding Fellini readers
The Gersh Agency
Larry T
Sandra L
Jim Barrett
East Side Sunrise
Book Review
Neil Kopp
Simon Max Hill
The cast and crew of But A Dream
The cast and crew of Pretty
Nick Peterson
Shawn Sundby
Dennis Brenhaug
Peripheral Produce
The Masters
and
Federico Fellini
I could not have done it without you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you ...
Neal A. Corl
Signore Direttore
There are a number of people that I have had the privilege of having in my life this past year. I will try to remember them all.
I want to especially thank David Millstone for inpsiring me to get this started and for his dedicated blogging and readership.
My wife Nicola
Henry
Maisie
June
Dave Hansen
Philip Kenney
Zach Sherman
Michael Cassidy
Andrew Dickson
All of the wonderful actor-students I have the honor to have in the studio
Steve Doughton
The cast and crew of London Calling
Derek - High Desert Psalmist
Joey Boyd
Greg Schmitt
Joel Stirnkorb
Peter Kahn
Zach Mortensen
Tommy Pallotta
Heath Lourwood
Greg Foley
Travis Huntington
The cast and crew of Uncle Tom's Apartment
David Walker
Ryan Artists
Jeffery Hasseler
Lounne Moldovan
Beth
Chris Hornbecker
Jack Dahl
The cast and crew of The Color of Ambition
Robert Hicks
Gearhead Studio Rentals
Michael / Koerner Camera
The anonymous Finding Fellini readers
The Gersh Agency
Larry T
Sandra L
Jim Barrett
East Side Sunrise
Book Review
Neil Kopp
Simon Max Hill
The cast and crew of But A Dream
The cast and crew of Pretty
Nick Peterson
Shawn Sundby
Dennis Brenhaug
Peripheral Produce
The Masters
and
Federico Fellini
I could not have done it without you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you ...
Neal A. Corl
Signore Direttore
The Master Says 001 - Anniversary Reprise
There is no beginning. There is no end.
There is only the infinite passion of life.
Federico Fellini
There is only the infinite passion of life.
Federico Fellini
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