April 16th, 2012

Life is but an Oneiric

Life is but a dream; it’s what you make it

Always try to give; don’t ever take it

~ The Temptations

I like living, breathing, better than working… My art [is] that of living: each second, each breath is a work which is inscribed nowhere, which is neither visual nor cerebral, it’s sort of constant euphoria. 

~ Marcel Duchamp

Row, row, row your boat; Gently down the stream.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily; Life is but a dream.

Part of my disillusion with conventional cinema is how ubiquitous the dull blade of logic is seeded within the narrative.  Everything must have a reason.  Everything must be explained.  Even in something as unique as The Artist, the dream sequence is rationalized, not as a tangible event, but as a pandering metaphor known as an oneiric.  

Life is not linear.  Life is not rational.  The most exciting parts of life consist of not knowing.  An artist like Marcel Duchamp or a director like Ingmar Bergman isn’t afraid to approach that within life which is intangible.  This is what makes them great - a sense that within their work there is something more.

~ü

21 notes·
dream technique oneiric
April 12th, 2012
Zoom Charity and the Quality of Your Intention:  The University of Chicago had a screening of Andrei Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev on Tuesday night.  This is my third time seeing it, my first on 35mm.  Each viewing has been a meaningful experience.  It has changed how I think about the medium of film, it has broadly changed me as a creative person, and in this viewing, it caused me to reflect on the quality of my effort as a filmmaker.  This scene in particular resonated with me: Andrei Rublev stands in an blank church, unwilling to paint the Last Judgement due to its vicious nature.  His protest creates a personal crisis.  He has been given many gifts.  He is knowledgable and well-read in mostly illiterate Medieval Russia.  He has a deep-seeded faith that imbues his painting with self-evident beauty and authenticity that other icon painters lack.  But faith, and the prophecies that accompany countless religions, always falls short of actually becoming and ultimately knowing.  And the intention of truly knowing the infinite universe always falls short of the certitude of faith.   Prophecies fail.  Knowledge will vanish.  Andrei Rublev, as depicted in the film, believed that the only true virtue is charity.  He says that charity does not envy nor vaunt itself, it rejoices in truth, believes in all things, hopes for all things, and never fails.  In essence, charity is the material of faith and the action of knowledge.  It is the only thing that matters.  In the film, it is the only thing he lacks. Last week, I asked readers What is Your Guiding Principle?  Three answers stuck out: Haydn West channeled a bit of Ayn Rand and stated the facts:  Film must pay it’s own way and money men don’t have a massive interest in altruism. bethanriddell wanted to know why: The need to understand, well, everything. Merely discovering truth is not enough, but the craving to answer the ‘why’. kushcrumblr is concerned about the future: The record. Will this be something I am proud of in ten years, or the robot me in 200. As an artist, it is difficult to know who to serve.  Great work has been created by serving many different masters.  Do you serve your own desires?  Do you serve God?  Do you serve the almighty dollar?  Do you serve a greater good?  Do you serve political statements?  It is likely some combination of these and many other possibilities. As an artist in the 21st century, I revere the power of sharing.  I admire the act of helping others to help yourself.  I see the power of relationships over isolation.  This is all charity.  It is all giving yourself, as much of yourself as possible, over to a greater good.  ’Good’ is evasive and intangible but the quality of your intention is not.  If it is in the best interest of others, if it in the veneration of beauty - even if the work is ugly - ‘good’ will simply happen. ~ü

Charity and the Quality of Your Intention: 

The University of Chicago had a screening of Andrei Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev on Tuesday night.  This is my third time seeing it, my first on 35mm.  Each viewing has been a meaningful experience.  It has changed how I think about the medium of film, it has broadly changed me as a creative person, and in this viewing, it caused me to reflect on the quality of my effort as a filmmaker.  This scene in particular resonated with me:

Andrei Rublev stands in an blank church, unwilling to paint the Last Judgement due to its vicious nature.  His protest creates a personal crisis.  He has been given many gifts.  He is knowledgable and well-read in mostly illiterate Medieval Russia.  He has a deep-seeded faith that imbues his painting with self-evident beauty and authenticity that other icon painters lack.  But faith, and the prophecies that accompany countless religions, always falls short of actually becoming and ultimately knowing.  And the intention of truly knowing the infinite universe always falls short of the certitude of faith.  

Prophecies fail.  Knowledge will vanish.  Andrei Rublev, as depicted in the film, believed that the only true virtue is charity.  He says that charity does not envy nor vaunt itself, it rejoices in truth, believes in all things, hopes for all things, and never fails.  In essence, charity is the material of faith and the action of knowledge.  It is the only thing that matters.  In the film, it is the only thing he lacks.

Last week, I asked readers What is Your Guiding Principle?  Three answers stuck out:

Haydn West channeled a bit of Ayn Rand and stated the facts: 

Film must pay it’s own way and money men don’t have a massive interest in altruism.

bethanriddell wanted to know why:

The need to understand, well, everything. Merely discovering truth is not enough, but the craving to answer the ‘why’.

kushcrumblr is concerned about the future:

The record. Will this be something I am proud of in ten years, or the robot me in 200.

As an artist, it is difficult to know who to serve.  Great work has been created by serving many different masters.  Do you serve your own desires?  Do you serve God?  Do you serve the almighty dollar?  Do you serve a greater good?  Do you serve political statements?  It is likely some combination of these and many other possibilities.

As an artist in the 21st century, I revere the power of sharing.  I admire the act of helping others to help yourself.  I see the power of relationships over isolation.  This is all charity.  It is all giving yourself, as much of yourself as possible, over to a greater good.  ’Good’ is evasive and intangible but the quality of your intention is not.  If it is in the best interest of others, if it in the veneration of beauty - even if the work is ugly - ‘good’ will simply happen.

~ü

18 notes·
technique art directors
April 5th, 2012

What is Your Guiding Principle?

Yesterday, I posted an innocuous video of Andrei Tarkovsky at a Q&A in Italy.  While his diatribe on “poor miserable producers” seems like the nugget here, I was especially struck by his assertion of truth and beauty as his driving force.  This is not the first time Tarkovksy asserted this.  I find it remarkable because of the consistency of his message.  He serves a higher power.  In its essence, it is God, but in his practice, it is truth and beauty.

Tarkovsky has deep ties to the Russian Orthodox faith.  The faith’s powerful aesthetic can be felt in many of its children - Fyodor Dostoevsky, Arvo Pärt, and Andrei Tarkovksy.  These men made work with a powerful spiritual force.  Although Tarkovksy cites “producers that act like drug peddlers” as the problem, the other side of the equation, contemporary directors, seem largely ill-equipped to approach such lofty, perhaps elusively simple, ambitions.

~ü

23 notes·
directing technique
February 23rd, 2012
The Camera Simply Watches

Nelson Carvajal, of Free Cinema Now, muses on what it is to be a director:

The purpose of a director is to have a passionate vision for something. No matter what camera instrument you have at your disposal—what the hell are you trying to show me? Or provoke in me? Why should I watch your images?

[…]

It’s going to be your fervor and sense of purpose that points the camera toward something worth showing. 

Couldn’t be simpler.  That process of constant self-examination should be in every director’s repertoire.  Is this really the best shot?  Does it need to be this long?  Is this shot even necessary?  It’s that process of reduction that makes a career worth noticing.

~ü

45 notes·
directing technique
February 19th, 2012
Oscars: Cinematography nominees discuss film versus digital

The technological debate matters to me much less than the technique (especially because film is still undoubtedly superior).  Janusz Kaminski, nominated for Steven Spielberg’s War Horse and cinematographer of Oscar-winning films Schindler’s List and Saving Private Ryan, discusses the “mystery” of shooting film.  I love shooting film because it endears a level of simplicity and fore-thought as to what you’re attempting to accomplish.  The mystery comes from the fact that it is absolutely intangible until it is projected on the screen.  If you’re creative and confident, this is incredibly empowering.  

Kaminski, from the link above:

Though he recently shot in digital for the first time while working on a commercial, he decried digital as a harbinger of “the death of the cinematographer.” “Generally speaking, I don’t have respect for digital media just yet,” he added.

His concern is that the cinematographer is no longer allowed to fully control the image as other technicians become a larger part of the process and that digital monitors create a laissez-faire attitude on-set toward image-making. “If you see the image on the digital screen I think people become lazy, they get satisfied with just seeing the image, they’re not going for visual panache, not getting the story through metaphors,” he said. “With film there is still mystery.”

Using your imagination as the primary tool, rather than monitors and scopes, will ultimately yield the best results.

~ü

59 notes·
technique technology
January 16th, 2012

Being Well-Rounded

I always try to reshape my ideas in other forms: dance, soap opera, Olympic competition, children’s games, pornography – anything that will keep turning them for possibilities.

~ Rupert Goold, director

I have canoed around the midwest United States, painted portraits, taken photographs, volunteered at soup kitchens and after-school programs, drank too much, programmed extensively in Java, C++, Lisp, Pascal, BASIC and Ada, embarrassed myself, thrown away finished artwork, taught college, played bandoneon, danced ballroom, felt inadequate, choreographed, performed as a dancer and a musician, composed, won grants, came up short more times than I can count, experimented, dedicated parts of my life to Buddhism, played a lot of basketball, dated beautiful women, traveled less than I would have liked, dated women that weren’t good for me, studied movement, stayed up until sunrise entrenched in conversation, reflected, directed films…..  experienced life.

Essential to being a great director.

~ü

32 notes·
directing technique
January 13th, 2012

A whole generation of critics misunderstood Cassavetes so spectacularly that the ones who are still around are probably too embarrassed to take a second look. The Gustav Mahler of cinema, Cassavetes was excoriated in his lifetime for formlessness, lack of focus and modulation, etc. and ad infinitum. And, like Mahler, his work has come back after his death to haunt those who were so quick with their doctrinaire judgments. Actor’s Studio exercises, formless improvisations, and unmodulated emotionalism are all you’re going to see if you look at every movie with the expectation that it will/should be broken up into visually and behaviorally pointed units. Films like A Woman Under the Influence defy a century’s worth of film theory, screenwriting tips, and film school orthodoxy. When you look at a close-up in a film by almost anyone else, you’re looking at a representation of the idea of an emotion, no matter how detailed the acting. In Cassavetes, every blink, every shrug, every hesitation counts and drives the story forward.

What is A Woman Under the Influence? If you look at it from one end of the telescope, it’s a hyper-realistic portrait of a woman going mad, a bravura performance in a vaguely working-class setting, a sort of déclassé Americanization of Ingmar Bergman’s Face to Face (1976), without Bergman. From the other end, it’s a richly detailed experience, alternately soaring and gut-wrenching, composed in two long, mighty, almost-but-not-quite unwieldy movements. And it’s about…what? Men and women? Family life? The difficulty of distinguishing between your real and ideal selves? Male embarrassment? All of the above, none of the above. Tagging a movie like Woman with something as neat as a “subject” is a fairly useless activity. “John had antennae like Proust,” Peter Falk once wrote. A Woman Under the Influence and Faces, probably his two greate

Reblogged from
164 notes·
director acting technique rules
January 13th, 2012

A whole generation of critics misunderstood Cassavetes so spectacularly that the ones who are still around are probably too embarrassed to take a second look. The Gustav Mahler of cinema, Cassavetes was excoriated in his lifetime for formlessness, lack of focus and modulation, etc. and ad infinitum. And, like Mahler, his work has come back after his death to haunt those who were so quick with their doctrinaire judgments. Actor’s Studio exercises, formless improvisations, and unmodulated emotionalism are all you’re going to see if you look at every movie with the expectation that it will/should be broken up into visually and behaviorally pointed units. Films like A Woman Under the Influence defy a century’s worth of film theory, screenwriting tips, and film school orthodoxy. When you look at a close-up in a film by almost anyone else, you’re looking at a representation of the idea of an emotion, no matter how detailed the acting. In Cassavetes, every blink, every shrug, every hesitation counts and drives the story forward.

What is A Woman Under the Influence? If you look at it from one end of the telescope, it’s a hyper-realistic portrait of a woman going mad, a bravura performance in a vaguely working-class setting, a sort of déclassé Americanization of Ingmar Bergman’s Face to Face (1976), without Bergman. From the other end, it’s a richly detailed experience, alternately soaring and gut-wrenching, composed in two long, mighty, almost-but-not-quite unwieldy movements. And it’s about…what? Men and women? Family life? The difficulty of distinguishing between your real and ideal selves? Male embarrassment? All of the above, none of the above. Tagging a movie like Woman with something as neat as a “subject” is a fairly useless activity. “John had antennae like Proust,” Peter Falk once wrote. A Woman Under the Influence and Faces, probably his two greatest films, are both ultimately as impossible to pin down as In Search of Lost Time. Like Proust before him, Cassavetes rode the whims, upsets, vagaries, and mysterious impulses of humanity like a champion surfer.

~ A Woman Under the Influence: The War at Home

Reblogged from
164 notes·
director acting technique rules
January 13th, 2012

Jim Jarmusch’s Golden Rlues

Rule #1: There are no rules. There are as many ways to make a film as there are potential filmmakers. It’s an open form. Anyway, I would personally never presume to tell anyone else what to do or how to do anything. To me that’s like telling someone else what their religious beliefs should be. Fuck that. That’s against my personal philosophy—more of a code than a set of “rules.” Therefore, disregard the “rules” you are presently reading, and instead consider them to be merely notes to myself. One should make one’s own “notes” because there is no one way to do anything. If anyone tells you there is only one way, their way, get as far away from them as possible, both physically and philosophically.

Rule #2: Don’t let the fuckers get ya. They can either help you, or not help you, but they can’t stop you. People who finance films, distribute films, promote films and exhibit films are not filmmakers. They are not interested in letting filmmakers define and dictate the way they do their business, so filmmakers should have no interest in allowing them to dictate the way a film is made. Carry a gun if necessary.

Also, avoid sycophants at all costs. There are always people around who only want to be involved in filmmaking to get rich, get famous, or get laid. Generally, they know as much about filmmaking as George W. Bush knows about hand-to-hand combat.

Rule #3: The production is there to serve the film. The film is not there to serve the production. Unfortunately, in the world of filmmaking this is almost universally backwards. The film is not being made to serve the budget, the schedule, or the resumes of those involved. Filmmakers who don’t understand this should be hung from their ankles and asked why the sky appears to be upside down.

Rule #4: Filmmaking is a collaborative process. You get the chance to work with others whose minds and ideas may be stronger than your own. Make sure they remain focused on their own function and not someone else’s job, or you’ll have a big mess. But treat all collaborators as equals and with respect. A production assistant who is holding back traffic so the crew can get a shot is no less important than the actors in the scene, the director of photography, the production designer or the director. Hierarchy is for those whose egos are inflated or out of control, or for people in the military. Those with whom you choose to collaborate, if you make good choices, can elevate the quality and content of your film to a much higher plane than any one mind could imagine on its own. If you don’t want to work with other people, go paint a painting or write a book. (And if you want to be a fucking dictator, I guess these days you just have to go into politics…).

Rule #5: Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is nonexistent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery—celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from—it’s where you take them to.”

~ Jim Jarmusch MovieMaker Magazine #53 (Winter, January 22, 2004)

(Source: jim-jarmusch.net)

333 notes·
directing production creative technique
July 6th, 2011
Zoom The Truth of the Rough Cut: I just watched the first fully-realized cut of The Assassination of Chicago’s Mayor.  It leaves me with mixed emotions.  There is a lot of good filmmaking in here.  Great craftsmanship.  A unique place.  An interesting time.  Strong performances.  But I think that it will leave the audience with more questions than answers. In an odd way, it’s difficult to accept that you are that sort of director.  I despise dogma.  I think the idea of “common sense” is ludicrous.  I see the truth as ultimately defined by perspective, not by objectivity.  My work reflects these beliefs.  But that’s not necessarily what audiences want to see.   Without giving away too much, The Assassination of Chicago’s Mayor martyrs a murderer.  Not because I endorse his actions but because I strove to convey his truth.  We need to understand him.  He does not need to understand us.  It’s a difficult stance to take - hence the mixed emotions felt after viewing. So after months of planning, production and editing, I finally get to see the film for the first time.  The journey is a test of clairvoyance and conviction.  For the director, the first time you see your film tells you more about yourself than it does itself.  This is the truth in the creative process. ~ü

The Truth of the Rough Cut:

I just watched the first fully-realized cut of The Assassination of Chicago’s Mayor.  It leaves me with mixed emotions.  There is a lot of good filmmaking in here.  Great craftsmanship.  A unique place.  An interesting time.  Strong performances.  But I think that it will leave the audience with more questions than answers.

In an odd way, it’s difficult to accept that you are that sort of director.  I despise dogma.  I think the idea of “common sense” is ludicrous.  I see the truth as ultimately defined by perspective, not by objectivity.  My work reflects these beliefs.  But that’s not necessarily what audiences want to see.  

Without giving away too much, The Assassination of Chicago’s Mayor martyrs a murderer.  Not because I endorse his actions but because I strove to convey his truth.  We need to understand him.  He does not need to understand us.  It’s a difficult stance to take - hence the mixed emotions felt after viewing.

So after months of planning, production and editing, I finally get to see the film for the first time.  The journey is a test of clairvoyance and conviction.  For the director, the first time you see your film tells you more about yourself than it does itself.  This is the truth in the creative process.

~ü

17 notes·
editing truth technique
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@dschmudde

Techniques for directing film. More than the script, bigger than the screen - the tangible and mystical characteristics of truly great filmmaking.