Beyond the Frame

While this article in Forbes on Why Immigrants Make Better Entrepreneurs is a bit of pulp, it’s a topic that generates a lot of casual speculation on why some people get a “big break” and others don’t.  The article describes an immigrant, Christian Gheorghe, that was willing to take any job - hauling plywood, driving limos - while simultaneously improving on his craft and chatting up everyone that crossed his path.  His life essentially changed the day that Andrew Saxe entered Gheorghe’s limo.  Saxe needed help programming and Gheorghe had the skill set and the time to oblige.  Saxe Marketing was ultimately sold for $30 million to another firm in 1997.  Gheorghe went on to use his cash windfall to achieve even greater success in Silicon Valley.

The key point here (and one that the article overlooks) is that success is never achieved on your own.  Even if you’re an immigrant.  It’s always a combination of opportunity and preparedness.  Assuming equal parts hard work and diligence, the division between those that achieve and those who do not is drawn along the line of opportunity.  People in filmmaking who have not achieved their goals in spite of their hard work often see the absence of a Christian Gheorghe-like serendipitous encounter.  Reasonably so, almost everything in this industry happens because of who you know; we can’t put our resumé on LinkedIn, list 10 years of experience, and get a job directing, producing, or editing feature films.  If you meet the right person or you’re born into the right family, you have a chance.  Anything short of that, you don’t.  Not even Charlie Chaplin, who came from a dirt-poor family in London, made movies on his own.

The maddening randomness is almost embittering.  But the honest-to-God truth is that none of this matters.  If you keep putting yourself out there, if you keep pushing your limits, if you keep working for/with people you like, and if you keep improving your craft, you improve the odds of getting that Christian Gheorghe break.  If you never get it?  Who cares.  At least you’re doing something you love and you’re living a full life.  The only real drag is that if you never get a break, you’ll have to quit someday - either by force of nature or fact of finance.  But we’re all in this for the ride, not the result; we all know how this story ultimately ends and it ends the same way for everyone.   Let go, enjoy it, and make movies while you still can.

~ü

One thing people outside the industry don’t understand is how incredibly difficult it is to make a film.  If a film actually manages to get into production, the production itself is not only a logistical monster, but the stakes are often very high.  You have to have a schedule and you have to stick to it.

In independent film, making your days is essential to finishing a film.  Money cannot solve problems - there isn’t any.  Losing a day is the worst thing that can happen short of major injury or death.  One bad day can ruin a year of preparation.  It can sink the entire ship.  The risks are actually that high.  

John Bruno reflects on one such day.  Follow his blog if you can stomach the truth about filmmaking.  An excerpt is below:

Most of the extras were still signing in when things turned bad.  JR rolled on a smaller portion of the scene that did not require extras when we heard a funny sound coming from the camera, a crunching sound. 

For those not technically proficient in 35mm cameras, crunching sounds are definitely not a good sign.

JR was a tech whiz.  He said he hoped he could fix the problem, and to let him work alone and uninterrupted somewhere.  I found a room and put a PA outside it with instructions that no one was to enter.

Meanwhile, I worked with my 2nd AD to make sure that once camera was back up, everything would be ready to roll.

Minutes passed, and minutes turned into more than an hour.  All the while, Uzo, who was not only directing this drama that was close to his heart but who also made a healthy financial investment in it, keep coming up to me.  We would be able to shoot today, right?

To be honest, I hedged a little.  I said that if the camera was workable, we would be prepared to make up the time lost.

The if went away in a heartbeat.

I went into the room that JR was sequestered in, and it was a sight I had not seen before, not seen since, and don’t expect to see again.  There, on a series of  tables, were many, many pieces of the camera.  The lens had shattered, and the broken glass had worked its way all through the camera body.  Humpty Dumpty was in fewer pieces after that unfortunate fall off the wall.

It is amazing that JR could take a camera apart like that, and more amazing that he could put it back together.

I feared the worst, but without having to ask, I got my answer.  I think I only got as far as “So, JR….” when my good friend looked up from the patient and shook his head.  How long?  The answer was a few days.

I just nodded my head and did the first of many “dead man walking” trips. 

“Uzo.  The camera is down.  I’m going to have to wrap us for today.”

Denial is the first stage of grief.

“We are shooting today, right?” Uzo asked.

I was more specific.  We were not shooting today.  We were wrapped.  I had not called it yet out of deference to him, and as we were not close to a full day yet, no one was going into overtime.

Make no mistake.  We were wrapped.

Anger.

“We MUST shoot today!”

I started explaining to Uzo that we could not shoot without a camera (he knew that - but grief is a bitch).

“I DO NOT care about the camera.  We MUST shoot today!”

Next Sunday I’ll be directing an excerpt from the feature film Beautiful Little Fools (working title) for Sterling Rock Productions.  When producer/actor Grace McPhillips contacted me a month ago, the first thing that interested me in the project was specifically the prospect of working with her.  She’s very active in Chicago’s film community and has a strong reel to show for it. 

In the end, the excerpt is going to be used as a fundraising tool for the feature.  This raises a few unique considerations:

• The film has to convey a life much larger than what’s on screen.  It is, by definition, a small peek into something bigger.
• It is a tool that serves a specific function.  It may be used to capture the script so an investor can literally see it, or it may be used to bait an investor so they read the rest of the script.

In order to bait someone, the scene must have an implicit tension.  Something that, in the end, is unresolved.  That’s the part when the audience says I want to know more.  

Conversely, the excerpt chosen is self-contained.  It has a discernible beginning, middle and end.  So the tension must be conveyed by the subtext of what the characters say and within the environment they are portrayed.  The scene ends when the main character, Zelda, agrees to buy a historic café.  It is literally a life-changing decision.  These sorts of changes are filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation.  This dynamism in the performance is the key.

In the next few days I’ll be publishing thoughts on how to achieve this.  Not just text, but preproduction materials and examples.  I invite you to send your thoughts, suggestions, ideas and questions.

~ü

I had 1,000 characters to answer this question on a recent application. Here is my response:

Films are great teachers. In making and sharing my films, I am always a student. Endless creative possibilities teach restraint. They require intimate knowledge of a subject. And a completed film is a test of what works and what does not.

Films are the gateway to the future of audience engagement. The creative medium of the 21st century is going to build on the lessons learned from 20th century cinema. Movies are young and still evolving, endlessly corruptible and unpredictable.

Films are the evidence of a few fundamental truths. The ancient principles of storytelling, aesthetics and mystery reveal an essential binding language shared by all. Great films are moments of unity that can transcend culture. At the same time, cinema is also a propagator of diverse lifestyles and values. Films provide tangible insight and inspire empathy.

I love film because it is all these things. And all these things are important to me.

Why are you interested in filmmaking?

~ü