Kübler-Ross’ 5 stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining for time, depression, & acceptance. Where’s the film biz on this list? And where is the Indie Film Biz on the chart?
It seems to me that most are still in step one: denial. I wrote my “38 Ways The Film Business Is Failing” post from what I felt was a place of acceptance (K-R Stage 5). We should be ready to move on now. Each of my 38, and the 37 I posted the year earlier, are ironclad truths in my view . Seriously, though, each of the combined 75 statements are wake up calls, pleas to move on and find solutions. Can’t we just hurdle over the middle three and land on the final one?
If we accept acceptance and wake up to the world we are living in, what is our next step?
Monday, August 30, 2010
Jon Reiss On Ten Thoughts On The PMD, Economics, & Responsibility
Let me clarify some of my feelings about the PMD. I will add my universal caveat that every film and situation is different. But here are some important guidelines:
1. The best case scenario is that a PMD is on board as a full collaborator and worker from as close to inception of the film as possible – no later than beginning of prep. This allows for, what I feel, the optimum of the integration of audience connection and engagement (which is what distribution and marketing is at its essence). If you wait till you have finished your film – you are in a world of hurt (I’ve said that before, but I don’t think I can say it enough) because this connection building and engagement take time and effort and cannot be hurried.
2. The best marketing is as creative as traditional filmmaking now – and frankly the line is blurred between what is the “film” and what is marketing. This is a de facto state of things since the rise of transmedia. If anyone just wants to make a traditional feature these days – that is great,– I am not going to tell anyone what his or her creative output should or should not be, but I am only pointing out that there is a tremendous amount of creative potential that focusing only on feature films ignores. I feel as a film community we should embrace it – and many filmmakers are. It is tremendously exciting. Look at what Lance Weiler is doing. I was fortunate enough to be at the Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh yesterday – and many things struck me (more blog posts coming on this subject) – but he was one of the first transmedia artists – we can learn a lot from him about what it means to be a creative person AND what it means to connect with audience. (And Sheri Candler – yes he was an incredible leader of a tribe – another post on that coming too). I know for many of you this is old news – but I still feel there is a battle being waged about this – one that is a waste of time in my opinion.
3. As a result, the PMD is not just a social marketer, a dealmaker, a festival publicist, a line producer, a distributor, a publicist – he or she needs to understand all aspects of the marketing and distribution of a film and conceptualize, develop and oversee its execution over the full life of a film. To do all of the above is a tremendous amount of work – akin to being the sole producer of a film in a crew of 3 (and at times this will happen – just as micro budget films have been produced in this way). But I do advise that there be a distribution and marketing team (I took a whole chapter of TOTBO to outline this crew and even that should be supplemented now (another blog post later). The PMD is the one who oversees all of the pieces (but as in the case of all who work on indie films – they will be working full time and busting their butt in the trenches like everyone else – because there is never enough money to hire as many people as anyone would ever like).
4. Just as people cut their teeth in indie film by taking on smaller tasks and working their way up – so it will be with PMDs. Electrics become gaffers become DPs. Social media assistants become social media strategists become PMDs. (as an example) While people work up the ladder – if they want to be the top creative in the department – they will learn ALL aspects of that department on their way up. It is an intense learning curve – but people who want it – do it.
5. When people cut their teeth in indie film – they usually work for free or for little money to have a chance to prove themselves. Money, work, and credit are always negotiated in independent film. I don’t see that changing with the PMD. Film has always been an apprenticeship system. Even with film schools (and PMD training is on its way – more future blog posts) – most film students discover that they still need to apprentice out of school. This is not just true for film – but for all arts not only in the US now – but throughout the world and throughout time.
6. An alternative to this is a group of filmmakers who band together as a team – all chipping in resources and skills – to make a film. They usually divide up responsibilities and credits. But each member of the team has his or her own sweat equity skin in the game. This is where you have new producers, directors, DPs born who have not worked through the apprentice system. But they take the risk on a project and prove themselves.
7. The last alternative (which usually involves apprenticeship as well) is to get a lower level paid gig in an established, commercially based company (e.g. a publicity firm, social media establishment, transmedia commercial company etc) and get paid for doing lower level work on commercial projects. Often people do this and learn all the ropes, change jobs to learn a different skill (again paid for commercial work) until they have enough skills to strike out on their own.
8. All of the above goes to say that I feel that if you want to be a PMD in the indie world – it will be difficult to ask to be paid without a track record. Like all other people in the indie world – you need to pay your dues – work on films – build a reputation, resume, reel – to show what you are worth. Most people in indie film – especially when they are starting out – have multiple jobs and find multiple ways to make a living.
9. If you are in film – especially indie film – to make money – I suggest finding another career. There are many other ways to make money more simply. Chances are you’ll make more money per hour at McDonalds than from working on any indie film. The world of film and media are for people who love film and media and cannot live without it. It is a tough life except for a very few. (Again from Warhol: “Life is very hard”).
10. The people whom I have met who want to be PMDs around the world – have a love of film – but feel that they have a set of skills more geared toward marketing than actual production – and are excited by having a way to work in the field they love (film and media) and use their special talents. They are not doing it primarily for money. They are doing it because everything else besides film is unsatisfying – and while they do need to find a way to make a living – they need to be involved with film.
11. The hope is of course – with everyone in independent film – is to find a way to do what you love and sustain yourself. There are many, many ways that people find to do this. It is of course tougher than ever now – especially as we are in this transitional period. I don’t feel I have all the answers – but I am excited by what the future holds, by having discussions with passionate people who care about our world and I feel together we will all find a way to make this work. I don’t feel that we as filmmakers are alone in this. All media content creators and artists are facing the same conundrum – musicians, journalists, authors, artists, photo journalists, graphic artists, game designers (massive layoffs in Australia in the months prior to my visit). We are all facing the same challenges and I feel that we can all learn from each other.
Let me know your thoughts at @Jon_Reiss on twitter or facebook.com/ThinkOutsidetheBoxOffice
by Jon Reiss
Friday, August 27, 2010
What Do The Top Grossing INDIE Films Of 2000s Reveal?
I think I may have posted this before. I just recently came across it again. This list was compiled by the good folks at Indiewire. I stare at it and think it must reveal some greater truth.
What does it say about our culture, about what people want to see? What does it say about the mainstream industry and what they will buy or promote?
Top Grossing Independent Films of the 2000s
1. The Passion of the Christ, 2004 (Newmarket) $370,274,604 2. My Big Fat Greek Wedding, 2003 (IFC Films) $241,438,208 3. Juno, 2007 (Fox Searchlight) $143,395,265 4. Slumdog Millionaire, 2008 (Fox Searchlight) $141,319,928 5. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, 2000 (Sony Pictures Classics) $128,078,872 6. Traffic, 2000 (USA) $124,115,725 7. Fahrenheit 9/11, 2004 (Lionsgate) $119,194,771 8. Paranormal Activity, 2009 (Paramount) $107,753,000 9. Brokeback Mountain, 2005 (Focus Features) $83,043,761 10. March of the Penguins, 2005 (Warner Independent) $77,437,223 11. Coraline, 2009 (Focus Features) $75,286,229 12. Sideways, 2004 (Fox Searchlight) $71,503,593 13. Burn After Reading, 2008 (Focus Features) $60,355,347 14. Little Miss Sunshine, 2006 (Fox Searchlight) $59,891,098 15. Hero, 2004 (Miramax) $53,710,019 16. Atonement, 2007 (Focus Features) $50,927,067 17. 28 Days Later, 2003 (Fox Searchlight) $45,064,915 18. Lost In Translation, 2003 (Focus Features) $44,585,453 19. Napoleon Dynamite, 2004 (Fox Searchlight) $44,540,956 20. Precious: Based on the novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire, 2009 (Lionsgate) $42,004,270
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Thoughts On Titles (Plus: Ten Titles For Nonexistent Films!)
Are titles more than a marketing tool? They certainly can be that thing that encourages the desire, and the fond memory, the element that represents the art & the ambition, as well as being the reminder of the thing you want. Titles can tell us that the movie is distinct and worth our consideration (The Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind) or warn us that we may not be the correct audience for it (Blood _______). Good titles grow richer once we see the movie (The Ice Storm) and can move from seeming initially generic into some sort of deeper resonance (as Ang’s movie did).
The industry’s holy grail is often seen as the title that gives you a clear idea of both the tone and content or concept of the film (The Forty Year Old Virgin). Some subjects demand to be put in the title (weddings, food, chocolate, blood) because they are the things that audiences love most. Life’s big subjects get more than their fair share of attention (death, sex, love, power).
Sometimes though it seems as if who’s ever picking the titles deliberately tries to confuse, selecting something that runs pretty close to a suitable title for a much different genre (i.e. porn). There are those titles that are trying to fit in (to the marketplace) and those that wave their flag to claim how distinct (in the marketplace) they are.
Marketplaces mature and audiences grow more sophisticated. Netflix has said that the longer a subscriber belongs to their service, the more their taste gravitates to the auteurs. It should be no surprise then that new platforms, with their new audiences, often start repeating prior platforms’ formulas. It’s been said that in the heyday of VHS anything with a sex or violence title or image on the box would sell. Sure enough, I’ve been told it is similar on VOD titles: sex, drugs, and local crime are the top forms, beaten only by those with the letter “A”.
Yet sitting around with buds and beer often seem to net a bumper crop for next year’s slate:
The Balls
Coprolalia
Children, Kill Your Parents
Death By Chocolate
Eat It
Hell: The Movie
Incorrigible Meddlers
I’m With Stupid
Intestines, My Love!
The Incredibly Strange Rituals Of The Undead Leather Witches From Hell
The Masseuse
My Boss Is A Fool
Teenage Scarface
Wham! Bam! Pow!
Work Sucks. Let’s Party!
#!&*@! (The Unspeakable)
Maybe if we brainstorm and put all the insane titles out there, we can kill the movies before they get made. And then instead, we can turn our attention to the content first — which is how I have always approached it, for better or for worst. It takes me back to that David Puttnam line that Carl Bressler FB’d to me the other day, and I retweeted yesterday: “”Answer this: Am I in it for the story or the money? Your honest response will determine your entire trajectory in show business”.
What was your filmmaking background before making Lovers of Hate?
BRYAN: I went to film school at the University of Texas in the mid-90’s, where we were all very much under the influence of DIY heroes like Richard Linklater and Robert Rodriguez. I even remember Linklater coming into class once to show us all some of his favorite short films.
While still at film school I co-founded a film festival called Cinematexas with one of my teachers, Rachel Tsangari (who is an exec producer on Lovers of Hate). I did that for about 4 years, then worked at SXSW and now work at the Austin Film Society. So, I’ve always kind of been involved in supporting other filmmakers at the same time I’m trying to make my own.
My first feature, Dear Pillow, I made on a very tiny budget in 2004. It was about a kid who finds out that his neighbor writes for a porn magazine and then wants to “learn the ropes” from him. It has some pretty graphic dialogue in it -- I wanted to make something bold but honest and fortunately, it did really well on the festival circuit, playing about 30 festivals after it got selected to play at Slamdance. Then, it got me a Spirit Award nomination, for the “Someone to Watch” award.
Based on that, I was able to set up a project with this company called Burnt Orange Productions, which partnered with the University of Texas to produce features with students & alumni working on the films. Jake Vaughan, who produced, shot and edited Dear Pillow, directed this new project called The Cassidy Kids, while I co-wrote and produced it. It was a major step up for us, going from a crew of 5 to a crew of 50.
Unfortunately, it didn’t do as well as the last one, only playing a couple festivals but it did end up on IFC, where people have been finding it. I made a couple shorts before embarking on Lovers of Hate, one of which I still have to finish editing.
What was the writing process like?
BRYAN: The writing process was really kicked off by the main location for the film, this giant mansion in Park City, Utah. As part of my job at the Austin Film Society, we throw parties at Sundance every year for filmmakers we’ve supported. One of our board members lets us host these parties at her house in Park City and so that’s how I came to know it. I loved the idea of setting a movie in that place, using its unique architecture to do something small-scale but full of tension and humor. It took me about 4 months to write the first draft, and about 5 months later, we were shooting it.
How did you fund the film?
BRYAN: In November of 2008, we were told we could have the house for 2 weeks right after Sundance, so we basically had 2 months to fundraise, cast, crew up and take care of all the logistical challenges of importing our little production about 1,400 miles away.
I just started telling people we were gonna do it and they amazingly, offered to help us out with money, sometimes without me even asking. The first person to throw their hat in the ring was my friend Rachel, with whom I co-founded Cinematexas. She lives in Greece and had been making good money producing TV ads and large-scale installations like the Opening Ceremonies to the 2004 Olympics. Jay & Mark Duplass (I went to film school) with Jay, also helped me out. It was amazing how generous people were. And, the great thing is that now that we’ve sold the film to IFC, they’re all gonna get their money back, too!
What sort of camera did you use for production and what were the best and worst things about it?
BRYAN: We used the Panasonic DVX200, shooting at 720p, so we had to do an upres when we got the film into Sundance. It was the camera owned by the cinematographer, David Lowery, which he had used on his own film St. Nick about a year prior. We had like 5 lights total, so it was a real challenge to light the film up in Park City, where the sun starts going down around 4pm in the middle of the winter. But, we did have a great time up there, living like a big extended family, cooking and eating together in that beautiful kitchen. It was hard work, even though we were in a beautiful 4-story mansion. The first few days my calves were totally sore and cramped from running up those stairs about 50 times a day.
What was the smartest thing you did during production? The dumbest?
BRYAN: I think the smartest thing was that we didn’t bite off more than we could chew. I purposefully wrote and with the producer Megan Gilbride, we purposefully scheduled a movie that we could do in our time allotted. We had 11 production days in Park City and 8 in Austin. I had 6 more days of production on Dear Pillow, which we got in the can for $4,000!
But, I knew that I wanted to avoid over-reaching with this film – not try to do something so ambitious and logistically challenging that I would lose track of or not have time to concentrate on what was really important – the acting and the writing.
A lot of filmmakers that I see are trying way too hard to do something out of their price range with their first film. Don’t make an action movie with $500 and a video camera, or it’s gonna look silly.
The dumbest – without a doubt, not taking more production stills. It’s even something I counsel other filmmakers about – don’t forget to take stills!
What are the advantages (and disadvantages) of being the writer on a film you've directed?
BRYAN: The advantages are definitely that you can rewrite on the set or in your head before you shoot something. We tried as much as we could to shoot in sequence so we could take advantage of happy accidents or ideas we had. If you’ve written it, you know the story inside and out and will know if you can follow those happy accidents to new places.
The disadvantage, of course, is that you have no-one else to blame if the script isn’t working. And of course you won’t know if the script works until you are watching full cuts of the film in post-production.
And, finally, what did you learn from making the film that you can take to other projects?
BRYAN: The main thing I learned was to trust my instincts – there were certain moments where I let circumstances push me in a different direction from where I felt the movie should go, or where I let exhaustion or inconvenience convince me that something was “good enough.”
In the editing stage, you finally find out if something is “good enough,” and there were certain things I had to cut out or cut around because I didn’t follow my gut feeling at first.
Sometimes being a director forces you to be a bit of a tyrant or a bit of a jerk and you can’t be afraid of that. Everyone is there to help you get your vision on screen and you’ve gotta take that responsibility seriously.
How important is truth in a movie? Especially a movie based on history?
Take The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957). One distraught viewer of the movie made this comment on the IMDb movie forums:
"There was a time that I really thought that this movie was excellent. I had given it a 9 star rating. That was before I watched a special on the History Channel with interviews with survivors. I have never watched this movie again, changed my rating to one star, and threw away the VHS tape that I had..."
That one-star rating is a pity. What this person failed to take into account is that the greatness of this movie doesn't lie in the precise facts of the historical setting.
Art is contrived; there's no way around that. The trick is to artistically hide this fact. In a movie like The Bridge on the River Kwai, the story rides between the poles of both fact and fiction. This particular story is really more just a historical document about an event during World War 2. It's about how one man's greatest strength is also his greatest weakness.
A movie's purpose is to tell an engaging story. A great movie both tells an engaging story and strives to communicate a truth.
Awhile back in The Huffington Post, Marshall Fine pointed to Comic Con as an example of what is wrong with the Studio Biz these days. I too miss the days when it seemed like there was business in creating work for mature audiences. I will be among the first in line for Innaritu’s BUITIFUL for sure, and when I watched FAREWELL the other night, I longed to make a film of that weight, craft, and themes. Looking at what my immediate future holds as a producer in the USA, I don’t think I will get much opportunity for such exploration anytime soon, at least not on a reasonable budget.
Nonetheless, as opposed to Marshall, ComicCon does not represent for me what’s wrong with the film biz, but quite the opposite. Although the communities are smaller , and the passion and fervor far less, the art house contingents should take note what ComicCon does. It is the only populist film event we have in this country.
I am incredibly energized by ComicCon and believe it is a model that can be extended to support work beyond the specific genre it currently supports. That is, if the audience and community for specific genres and subjects can unite the way ComicCon’s has, we as filmmakers could truly start to collaborate with audiences the way the fan boy and geek crowd does with their filmmakers. Taking SUPER to ComicCon was one of the highlights of my twenty plus years in the business. I felt unbridled support for what we’ve made, and we only offered up a wee taste.
The following is a bit of an update to the reply that I posted to Marshall on the Huff:
I share your lament about Hollywood abandoning more serious fare, but it is what it is. Let’s face it, movies for adults are difficult to execute and difficult to market; how can you blame the studios from abandoning them?
Audiences need to unite and demand what they want. They need to move from being audiences to creating communities. Film festivals and film societies need to move into year round programming that can support more ambitious work. We can’t all wait until it goes on Netflix streaming. There is no community in streaming, only convenience. You know how great it is when people come together into a common space to discuss and appreciate work. The question is how can we offer that in a way that both sustains and nurtures creators and their appreciators alike.
We have to support the work we want, both as filmmakers and film lovers. You do it with your screening series, Marshal, as many others do too, but it is still not enough to generate more serious film work. The filmmakers to have to reach out and bring communities together. No one can afford to wait to have others do it for them.
I’ve generally made ambitious films for adults, precisely the type of movies you miss (and many that you have programmed and written about). But I am also incredibly excited to take my new film, James Gunn’s SUPER to Comic Con. It is a chance to connect with a COMMUNITY who wants the film — even before we have finished it. You don’t get this opportunity in the art house world. By showing their demand for a no-holds-barred look at what a real-life superhero (vs. say… Kick-Ass) would look at, the so-called geek community has given birth to one of the most daring films I have had the good fortune to be part of.
What was your filmmaking background before making Between Floors?
JEN: I became really interested in photography at the age of twelve when my Girl Scout troop was working on a merit badge. My mom gave me a camera and I started running around shooting as much as I could.
In high school I took a formal photography class where we were given a lot of freedom, and at some point I started shooting photo series to cover action and tell a story, which got me to thinking maybe film was the way I wanted to go.
Not long after that I sneaked into the theatre to see JFK and it was a done deal. I knew I wanted to be a director, but I didn't even know what a director really did.
Eventually I landed at Columbia College, Chicago to study directing, and I took some cinematography classes just to learn lighting and get my hands on the cameras--next thing I knew I was shooting a feature on the weekends and my classmates were asking me to shoot their films for them.
Now I work out of Los Angeles, Chicago, and Austin as a cinematographer and photographer, and get to work on my own projects. I do get some directing gigs--mostly music videos with a couple of commercials thrown in, and I'm looking forward to doing more.
I like the balance between doing my own projects and shooting for other people--it gives me an opportunity to get out of my head and see things from someone else's perspective.
Where did you get the idea and what was the writing process like?
JEN: The idea came out of a conversation I had with a friend in high school who was this quirky, sweet guy----- he was telling me about getting on elevators and staring at people and making weird noises just to see how they would react. I couldn't stop thinking about it and at some point decided it would be my first film. So in my screenwriting class at Columbia I wrote the first version of it. It was a short with four elevators that I intended to shoot as an independent project before I graduated and then use to get financing to expand it into a feature.
We had problems getting locations so it had to be re-written right before the shoot to all take place in the same elevator. I was proud of the film, but it never felt like I got to make the film I really wanted to, so after I left Chicago I started a new script for a feature version. I got about 40 pages into it, and had the beginning and ending of each of the seven scenes, plus a bit of the in-between, before I had to take a break from it.
I kept going back to it whenever I had time, but it just never felt on the page the way it felt in my head. At some point I had the realization that letting the actors improvise would give the film the realism that I was after so I stopped trying to write it--essentially the script became the blueprint for the film, and rehearsals became conversations about character and relationships and story structure, with the specifics left to the actors to create.
What was the smartest thing you did during production? The dumbest?
JEN: The biggest thing for me with this project was letting go and trusting myself, the actors, and the process. I am a control freak, which I think just comes with the territory on some level when you are an artist, but I am well aware of it and I do my best to keep it in check. Everything about this film challenges that tendency, so I had to deal with myself on a new level throughout the entire process of making it.
I had to trust that I had made the right casting decisions, the right choices on what elements and information to include or exclude, that the scenes would cut together, and that I had given the actors what they needed to do their best. We shot the film with hour-long takes, so once I rolled the camera we were locked in. Every scene had something about it (or several somethings) that I doubted right up until the camera rolled, but trusting that I had made the right choice in pre-production turned out to be very good for the film, and created some amazing moments that wouldn't have been there if I had gone against my instincts.
I could give you a laundry list of things I screwed up over the process of making the film, but the one that stands out is rushing the edit. I actually tried to edit the film in a matter of weeks to make a festival deadline. I wouldn't go so far as to say it was a mistake, because it did show me that I need to approach the film in a completely different way, but the pressure I put on myself to make that deadline added a lot of extra stress to the shoot.
The edit ended up taking over a year, which I never expected. The advice I used to get in regards to festival submissions was to start sending out a rough cut as soon as you have it, but now the word is to wait until the film is done. Which makes sense given how many more films are being made now--it's much harder to get your work seen so you want to make sure it's in it's best form when you put it out there.
What camera system did you use to shoot it and what did you like and hate about it?
JEN: I went with the Sony V1U, which was hands down the best option at the time we went into production. I wanted a progressive frame, high resolution image in the smallest body possible so we would have room to move inside the tiny elevators. But even with the camera being so small, I still had to use a wide angle lens adapter, and it was a problem for one of the scenes that I shot handheld--the edge distortion was pretty visible and we had to make some adjustments to minimize it.
I'm generally not a fan of fixed-lens cameras because I like to minimize depth-of-field and shoot on the long end of the lens, but this film needed to be in your face and claustrophobic, which required the camera be stuck in the elevators with the characters.
You wore a lot of hats on the production -- writer, director, DP, editor and producer. What are the benefits to working that way ... and what's the downside?
JEN: I have worked this way before on smaller projects, like commercials or music videos, and it's usually for budget reasons, sometimes creative. I started with a producing partner early on, but I always knew that most of the production and post would fall on me.
I'd say the budget was the biggest factor on this film--my producing partner had to leave the film for a paid gig out of town, locations were difficult to get, and because everyone was working for free and had to also earn a living at the same time (including me), the schedule was constantly changing. I had so many offers to help with the project, but there were a lot of things that had to be handled by me just for the simple reason that I was paying for everything and because things changed so frequently it was faster for me to handle the necessary meetings and phone calls than try to delegate. Whatever I couldn't handle myself or was having trouble with I'd call in favors and ask friends to help get the word out.
Shooting in actual elevators, we quite literally didn't have room for a crew--everything was contained inside the elevator except for a cable running out the doors to my monitor. We would approach each scene individually and adjust accordingly. Some scenes it was just me and the actors; on one I had a friend who was only available for a few hours come in and help with the rigging before we started shooting; and for the crowd scene with 14 actors I had an assistant director and a production assistant the whole day.
There was no way around doing the edit myself. Because I shot the hour-long improvisations, most of my decisions had to be made in the edit and I probably would have driven an editor crazy micro-managing everything. The closest way to describe it is trying to put together a puzzle and you have no idea what it looks like. I had no way to communicate to an editor what was going on in my head--there was no script or coverage, so the entire edit revolved around content and creating connections between the stories.
When you are making all the decisions, it allows for an incredible efficiency, but I don't think this approach is even remotely functional on a film that's not as contained as this one. We shot in five days, but those days were spread out over about six weeks and I was able to approach each scene individually. Because each one was self-contained, production felt more like shooting five short films than a feature. It was exhausting, and I felt myself constantly wondering what I'd forgotten to take care of, having to trust myself and work through the doubt--when Jim and Paul came on board after production it was such a relief to have their input and support. I really enjoy collaborating, and though I got to do that on a completely new level with the actors, I felt a lack of it in other areas because I was handling so much of it myself.
I don't have any intentions of trying to do another film this way--at least not another feature, but I do think for this one it was necessary. And each project is different, so I try approach each project with a fresh perspective--my next film is vastly different from Between Floors--bigger budget, lots of Chicago locations, lots of actors, and I didn't write the script, so it will be handled in a completely different way. I will have to grow and push myself in ways that I don't even know yet.
How did the film change while shooting ... and while editing?
JEN: During production, things were constantly shifting. I have yet to work on a shoot where everything goes according to plan, and I don't expect it to ever happen. But the approach I took with this film I think allowed for even more adjustments to be made on the fly.
The gorilla suit in one of the scenes was something that had never crossed my mind, but came up in the rehearsal as a possibility and we went with it. I changed my mind at the last minute about how I was going to shoot the family scene. Everything had to be flexible depending on the situation with the location--the scene in the hospital had to be adjusted on site because the elevator doors wouldn't stay closed. I had to sit in the elevator holding the door close button and Jim had to shoot around me--there's probably a few dozen things like that.
It's kind of odd, but everything changed and nothing changed--the details were adjusted but the scenes are still what I intended them to be. That probably comes from focusing on the big picture stuff like tone and relationship and letting the rest of it work itself out.
In the edit, the biggest change was cutting two scenes from the film--there were originally seven. I was having a really hard time getting the length where I wanted it, and certain scenes felt incomplete--the balance was off. When I got to a place where I felt I had done what I needed to do and was ready for some input, I showed it to a small group of people I trust and Paul was able to see that two of the scenes weren't working inside the whole. I hated cutting them out but he was right, and luckily he was patient enough to help me see it for myself. They will most likely be on the DVD.
And, finally, what did you learn from making the film that you can take to other projects?
JEN: The biggest difference is just from the shift in perspective from shorts to features--there are a lot more pieces of the puzzle, from both a business and creative standpoint. Getting through the marathon instead of the sprint, so to speak--maintaining your vision and intention for the story and keeping yourself healthy while working insane hours for an extended amount of time.
It's such a huge time commitment, especially compared to a short form project, that you have to be clear that you are willing to invest years of your life to see it through, not weeks or months. Taking a feature from development, to the festival circuit, to distribution is a monumental task, and even though I thought I knew what I was getting myself into, there have been quite a few surprises along the way--some of them have been really difficult to see the other side of.
I think allowing yourself some room to screw up is critical--not like intending to fail, but giving yourself the grace to accept that you probably won't handle it all perfectly, ask for help when you need it and keep going even when you make a mistake.
And the flip side of that is being open to the good surprises--there are just as many of those--and just trust yourself to know what to do.
I wish I could put into practice more of my recommendations and all the good ideas others have bought me. I wish I could raise money for the marketing as well as the production of my films. I wish I could plot out a six to nine month marketing & publicity campaign for my films, particularly when I don’t have a distributor to collaborate with. I wish I could slow down and take it one film at a time. I wish that I could engage in more experimental innovations that could pave the way to the future.
I believe in strategy. I am all about planning. Yet this world we are currently living in, just like the world I got my start in, requires action above anything else. We need to make this happen. We need to bring ideas into reality.
To large degree, I am a facilitator first and foremost. Sure, I am pleased when I contribute creatively to a project, but I don’t always, and I certainly don’t have to. Sometimes I am a second set of eyes; sometimes I am a sounding board. Sometimes I am the strategist, and sometimes I am the instigator. The list can go on, but the key thing is I am generative. I get things done. I make them happen. I bring it forward.
Yes, I love discussion, but it is not worth much unless you also create, or aid in the creation. Discussion leads to innovation. Discussion leads to strategy. Yet, a Plato-ian ideal is always out of reach, but that does not mean it should be ignored. We look towards our destination and from where we stand to start a path. Hopefully that path does not become a rut. Instead of standing still and looking at what direction we should head, I like to put one foot in front of the other and get moving.
Knowing “Best Practices” is a huge benefit, but I must confess I probably won’t follow them — or at least not all of them. I would always rather raise all the money before I shoot, but I am not going to sit around and wait for the golden apple to fall — I will grab a smaller one if it is in reach. If we have enough money to make a movie, then I am going to want to make the movie, even if it is not the same movie that we initially set out to do. I am going to get it done.
Back when James Schamus and I licensed Ang Lee’s THE WEDDING BANQUET to Samuel Goldwyn, Sam Jr. posed a question to us, one that still lurks behind most of my actions and to me still serves as the litmus test between whether something is corporate Indiewood or Truly Free Film. Sam asked us “Are you businessmen or filmmakers?” . I foolishly thought at the time that we could be both. Both sides certainly have a lot to gain by working together. But both can not drive the same being. It comes down to doing things that are best for the business of film or doing things that truly facilitate the work getting made.
The filmmaker is the artist. The filmmaker will embrace action, over strategy and discussion. The filmmaker knows they have to get it done, despite the circumstances. Most movies don’t get done because they were a great idea, a work of art, or a sound business plan. Most movies get made out of sheer bullheaded arrogance.
I mourn that I can not do more. I muorn that I can not chase both rabbits. I know that by looking out fully for the business of my films, it will only serve them better in the long run. But I know that many of them wouldn’t get made if I didn’t compromise and just get it done when it can get done. Sometimes we just have to take action. Action is always the best alternative. Action is the solution. Damn the torpedos! Full steam ahead!
The first setting is Jakob's home back in the village. (That's Jakob's granddaughter, Marta, in the pic to your right).
The second location? You've probably guessed it... The prison. A place where Jakob and his fellow prisoners await their "trial" before being shipped off to a work camp in Siberia.
And as YOU wait for the release of the movie, we hope you enjoy Lizzie's third installment of the Under Jakob's Ladder Comic Strip!
Back in 1995 I wrote an article for Filmmaker Magazine entitled “Indie Film Is Dead”. My efforts to call attention to the changing indie dynamic hardly began with Lehman Brother’s collapse; my attempts to make filmmakers empowered are long founded. And we still have a lot of work ahead of us. It begins with identification of both what could be, what should be, and what does not need to be. Although it has been a long fifteen years, I remain quite optimistic that we will build it better together.
Awhile back here on Truly Free Film, I looked back at that article that I wrote to go public with my fear we, the indie community, had grown complacent. Each time I revisit it, I gain some new perspective. I have been truly enjoying Scott McCauley’s recent posts reflecting back on the history of Filmmaker Magazine, and was quite pleased when Scott ask me to take another glance for the magazine. It again has strengthened my conviction that we can move our culture and it’s apparatus forward. This is that reflection:
I think we tend to view the past as the present and overlook the world we are really living in. Furthermore, there is always a tremendous gulf between thought and expression. As a culture and as an industry, we are very slow to react to change and particularly to clues as to what is around the bend. We only alter our behavior when the pain of the present outweighs the fear of the future. We need our canaries to have bullhorns, but usually I find that it is so easy to get so far ahead of the parade, that the crowd forgets you are leading it. The big change for today is how easy it is for people to participate. When I wrote IFID I got a nice response from ten or fifteen people but it was mostly about the wish for someone to build the system so they could benefit from it. I write to get discussions started and hope that we can all move them into action. Now when I post something particularly applicable to our culture or industry over 100 people comment and many more pass it around retweeting and posting on FB and the like. That discussion is slowly also leading to action. Indie has bifurcated into Truly Free, which is sorting out a series of best practices, and the prestige & genre arms of the corporate well-capitalized entities that still rely on practices of old.
Looking back at the article, it feels like a Macy’s Parade float of a giant tweety bird pulling down a 1000 fire alarms, but the reaction was a bit more like the “oh” to a high school prank. Or maybe the alarms were at a decibel that only certain dogs can hear, and it never reached the right people. But generally I don’t think most people cared, because those that got to step to the mic were getting paid, and the others, well, the first group were being paid to ignore. Indie did end and became Indiewood, adopting The Cinema Of Quality aspects that lead to so much redundant work. The industry’s blind endorsement of the star-driven foreign sales estimate based budgets eventually brought the sky down for most of Indiewood industry as companies with over-inflated overheads crashed, and films budgeted above their actual value never recouped. Most of those that supported themselves making what was then mid-range (and is now high) budgets have had to reorient themselves back to the budget range that films were back when I wrote the IFID piece.
I think filmmakers are collaborating now as never before, yet it remains quite hard to shake off the “build it and they will come” dream. It is truly hard to raise more than a production budget for a film, let alone a preliminary marketing budget. No new financial model is available to structure a plan, let alone predict a return, based on post 9-15-2008 Lehman Bros. crash realities. In the interim audiences and communities have been besieged with budget-conscious entertainment choices and become both more dispersed and selective in their filters. We can reach them far more easily now, but getting them to pay attention is far more difficult. As producers, we’ve watched our job description expand tenfold, whereas our billfold has been sliced and diced to record lows. Indie film was a legitimate career for about a decade, but it has returned to the realm of the “amateur” — in that it is now truly all about the love.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Rise Up & Curate! (Part 2 of 2): Cinefist and Live Events
Today’s guest post is once again from filmmaker Zak Forsman. Yesterday we ran part one of this post.
Now, it should be pointed out that we are not alone in trying to aid the floundering LA indie scene. There are two other LA based screening series that we have partnered and networked with. Cinema Speakeasy by Saskia Wilson Brown has had great success hosting short film workshops where the audience is invited to offer creative feedback on films in post. Film Courage Interactive, hosted by Karen Worden & David Branin, bookends their screenings with a indie film quiz show with sponsor-donated prizes and a filmmaker therapy session of sorts where filmmakers discuss the more pressing issues of the day. All of us are building a network that we hope will grow into an alternative to film festivals, where the filmmaker can make a little dough showing their movies.
Experience has taught us that many filmmakers we invite to participate often need guidance and motivation. For that reason we have adopted a tiered revenue-share model where the first 40 seats go to the venue, the next 40 go to the filmmaker and the last 20 go to CINEFIST. Anything over 100 ticket sales are split evenly. In addition to having to first satisfy the venue’s cut, the filmmakers need to meet promotional commitments in order to participate in the box office sales. It’s not automatic. Having the filmmaker push and promote can often be the difference between 15 people or 150 people attending the event.
We’ve also discovered some things that just don’t work. At the beginning, I imagined that selling DVDs in the lobby would be a good way to boost the money a filmmaker could make. But the truth is that filmmakers have generally sold DVDs to less that 10% of the audience when priced between $10 and $20. Meanwhile, the bands that brought CDs to sell, sold them at $5 to about 50% of the audience. There is something to be said for the replay value of our films and the perception and effectiveness of “added value” that a DVD could or should have in order to motivate more purchases. This, however, is a tangent for another article.
Secretly, we at Sabi Pictures undertook this endeavor to experiment with doing live events in preparation for our upcoming theatrical tour of Heart of Now and White Knuckles — two feature-length films we produced and will release this Fall. In addition to the lessons of the screening series, we have been actively tracking audience demand using two services: Open Indie and Crowd Controls. On the surface they look like they offer the same things and one should choose between the two, but I’ve come to the conclusion that they actually offer complimentary advantages and it’s worth the time to use both.
Where Open Indie (more so, as it grows) fosters paths for audience discovery through a twitter-like interface and filter exposing users to new works their friends have requested, Crowd Controls fosters the means to distribute our work to an identifiable audience that we can nurture once they’ve established themselves as a “fan”. Open Indie provides a layer of privacy for the audience, meaning that someone who requests my movie there will never hear from me unless a screening is booked in their town. Crowd Controls on the other hand gives a fan the opportunity to share their email and postal code directly with the filmmaker, so that a relationship can be nurtured beyond the promise of a theatrical event. Admittedly, this is a general simplification as they both do a little of what the other does. But their strengths are definitely weighted at opposite ends of the discovery and distribution equation.
These services have had the side benefit of introducing us to people with established audiences all over the world who run film clubs or a screening series of their own with a built-in audience they curate for. Further, we need a database of independent-friendly theaters. There is the Art House Theater Map on PBS.org, but I’m hoping for something a lot more detailed.
That’s why we’ve started the CINEFIST Digital Cinema Census where a theater owner can submit an extensive list of information about their theater from number of screens, to seating capacity, to format and technical specifications of the venue, to P&A requirements, as well as rates, splits and booking procedures. After identifying where the demand for our movies lie with Open Indie and Crowd Controls, this information would allow any of us to book theaters in those towns and cities with ease. If you know a theater owner, forward that link to them.
Looking toward the near future, we want to see the CINEFIST Screening Series expand into other towns and cities by providing would-be screening hosts who have found a venue, with a guide to run their own curatorial efforts under. I can one day imagine a worldwide grassroots network of CINEFIST venues providing a genuine alternative to traditional theatrical distribution. Let me know if you’d like to be one of them! Our personal goals for our tour are to create urgency and exclusivity with one-night-only events, to support the release of Heart of Now and White Knuckles on other platforms, to shoot video and create more online content, and finally to nurture relationships with true fans. At the end of the day, what drives us are the genuine friendships we’ve made in this community and the hope to make many more. That’s been the real reward and helping fellow filmmakers expose their films to LA audiences has been a real privilege.
How did you get started in filmmaking? What drew you to it?
JOHN: V and Laser Tag. When I was 8 years old, I shot my first film entitled ZAP, which was a copy of V using laser tag guns. Then I took a couple years off. Then at 13, I made a movie almost every weekend, and at 16 made my first feature.
How many films did you make before you made Plan 9?
JOHN: I have made over 100 films on the smaller budget level. Many of which are available on DVD at the moment. You can check them out here on www.darkstone-ent.com!
Where did you get the idea to remake Ed Wood's classic film?
JOHN: I was actually on set of Skeleton Key 3: The Organ Trail when a PA asked me (since I was ragging on remakes in general) what I would want to remake... And here I am.
How tough was it to get the rights?
JOHN: Not tough at all. The film is now public domain.
What steps did you take to ensure that Plan 9 was in public domain?
JOHN: Lawyer. No real tricks. Just hired a man for the job.
What sorts of changes, if any, did you make to the script?
JOHN: Can't say too much, but it is definitely for older audiences. I have tried to make an in your face horror film, as I would see Ed doing if he was still rolling film today.
How did you fund the film?
JOHN: We are still in that process. So all I can say for now is grape power and unicorn tears. The only thing we have shot so far is the Teaser Trailer, which we shot on Super 35mm. It was my first, and I loved it. Hard to go back after that. The film should be shot on the same medium.
Why did you choose to start by producing a trailer first? What are the advantages and disadvantages of doing it that way?
JOHN: The Teaser Trailer was shot for a couple reasons. 1- Being used a show pony for investors on proving we can do it. 2- To show the fans of the original our true intent on what we wanted to do with the remake.
What did you learn from making the film that you can take to other projects?
JOHN: This is a very new and awesome process. I am learning something new of each and every step of the process. Mainly I have surrounded myself with extremely talented people and hope to win with their victory!
Finally, which filmmakers have inspired you?
JOHN: Anthony Hickox. Sam Raimi. Larry Bishop. Joss Whedon. These are my heroes.
If you haven’t heard of CINEFIST yet, let me explain what it is: myself, Kevin Shah, Jamie Cobb, Neha Shah and Erik Reese — all members of the Sabi Pictures family — needed a new company to separate the production of our films from the distribution and exhibition of them. CINEFIST was born out of that need. When people ask, I say “it handles all things distribution and exhibition.”
If you were to visit the web site you’d see that in addition to an online store (selling DVDs, soundtracks and posters), there is a section for our Quarterly Los Angeles Screening Series and some tools and services on the horizon like our own VOD portal, a private invitation-only community forum, and a digital cinema census. For the purposes of this article I’m going to focus on the screening series, why we started it and what we’ve learned about live events.
In September 2009, I was reading this blog, Ted’s blog, and an new article entitled “18 Actions Towards A Sustainable Truly Free Film Community”. In that article he listed a number of areas where a member of our community could deepen their involvement through mentoring, collaborating, learning, evolving and more. As I went through the list, I was happy to note that we were doing each of these in one form or another with one exception — curating. We weren’t involved in supporting other filmmakers’ work or elevating our local community’s awareness of the works we admired.
Around the same time, Jim Kirst of the Downtown Independent Theater in Los Angeles had invited me to program a regular night at his theater. He probably had something different in mind than what I proposed but he was happy to have us experiment with a new model. So we began with the following goals: To provide a path for an audience to discover independent films, to have filmmakers participate in box office revenue, and to elevate the level of audience participation in a theatrical setting.
I sought out ways for the audience to be involved in the curation process, in the hope that they would feel invested in the selection of films, giving them cause to return to each subsequent screening. Borrowing from something Lance Weiler pioneered at a FROM HERE TO AWESOME event, we created a system using Poll Everywhere, where the audience could watch two trailers, then use their cell phone to send in a keyword vote via text message, and see the results instantly on the theater’s screen.
In addition, we wanted to raise the perceived value of a $10 ticket, so we’ve coupled each screening with additional components like live bands and educational presentations. When we screened Tom Quinn’s The New Year Parade [VID 1, VID 2], his lead actor’s band played us out after a rewarding Q&A. At another, artist-entrepreneur Justin Evans did a two hour presentation [VID] on leveraging state and federal tax incentives to lower the risk of investing in microbudget features. This was followed by a screening of his film A Lonely Place For Dying, a Q&A and a live band featuring a member of the cast. Most recently, we invited filmmakers Gregory Bayne and Gary King to discuss their successful Kickstarter campaigns [VID] in a fireside chat before Gary’s newest film What’s Up Lovely:
We ended that night on the rooftop bar of the Downtown Independent Theater mingling with new fans and forging new friendships. That night in particular we had well over 50% of attendees sign-up for the CINEFIST mailing list.
In the end, The Way We Get By by far exceeded our expectations. It was an unbelievably rewarding journey during one of the most difficult economic times in our country. We learned to never underestimate the support that can come from that small niche audience every film has. The people of Maine knew our story and wanted to help support our success. In every screening we’ve attended, there has been someone in the audience with a Maine connection there to support us. Going local paid off for us nationally—literally. Maine was a critical factor in making The Way We Get By a national success.
And an amazing blessing for us as well. Leading up to our national broadcast, a group of vendors in Maine decided to throw us an amazing wedding in Maine—-for free. A dream wedding we could never afford. Over 60 wedding vendors from across the state donated their services for our special day.
Leading up to the wedding, Mainers would stop us and tell us how much they enjoyed the film—how it affected them personally—and how much they looked forward to our next films too.
On October 16, we got married—a three day event on French’s Point in Stockton Maine. (LINK TO PAGE). The New York Times even covered the event.
THE WAY WE GET BY taught us personally so much about life and living it—and professionally it taught us about the importance of taking calculated business risks. But more importantly, we learned there is an audience for every film and filmmaker—you just have to find it. And for us—that loyal, dedicated audience—is in Maine.
Since THE WAY WE GET BY was released, Maine media outlets continue to share updates on the film’s success. A few weeks ago, when we found out our film received a national Emmy nomination, the Strand Theater in Maine celebrated by honoring us on their marquee.
Now the question is—can we carry our supporters over to our next project. We hope that not only will they continue to support The Way We Get By, but hopefully help fund and support our future films.
Gita Pullapilly and Aron Gaudet are now working on their next project—a narrative feature, “Go Baby” they plan to shoot early next year. They recently launched SUNNY SIDE UP FILMS, www.sunnysideupfilms.com, which also supports the national distribution of independent films.
Tune in to seeThe Way We Get Byfor its encore presentation as part of the 2010 season on POV August 3, 2010. For more information, visit: www.thewaywegebymovie.com
Friday, August 6, 2010
DIY Chronicles: THE WAY WE GET BY (Part 4 of 5): Minimize Your Loss & Hope For A Greater Payoff In The End
Today’s guest post is from filmmakers Gita Pullapilly and Aron Gaudet.
With film prints in hand, it now changed our game plan. Though we knew likely we’d lose money realizing nationally in theaters, we were banking that the film reviews and national press would bring a greater exposure to our film—and if not help our bottom line—at least help our careers.
In the end, we decided to alter our business plan, aware of the risks, and launched a national theatrical run.
The money we had made in Maine allowed us to bring on International Film Circuit as our distributor for a national release.
Our national non-profit partners couldn’t provide any financial support to us, however they shared film and screening information with their members by email, on their websites, and on their social networks. Now it wasn’t just us tweeting something or adding an event to our Facebook fan page to our few thousand followers. It was a large network of organizations reaching hundreds of thousands of people.
During this time, were bringing in interns as fast as we could to help us make calls to colleges across the country. Our plan was to allow them to use our film as a “real-life” marketing project for students. Instead of some example from a book, they would evaluate the best ways to release our film in their state—where to play, how to plan for a local release, identify target groups to work with—and then see if their plan actually worked in real life. In return, we would give the schools and the students credit at the end of our film. They all had to deliver reports to us by a specific deadline to get in the final theatrical credits. Although we initially had commitments from about 20 schools, 14 actually had extended conversations with us, and seven schools in seven different states delivered marketing research that was usable. The schools gave us insight into many different communities as we rolled the film out. In addition, the students helped spread the word because they now had a stake in the film’s success—and wanted friends and family to see their names in the credits.
What we discovered as we opened was that even though our research was solid, it was really difficult to get our target groups out to the theatre. We began to fear that the studios we talked to were right—grassroots has little impact on the box office.
In July, we kicked off our national run at the IFC Center in New York City, breaking over $7,000 in box office opening weekend and $10,000 for the week. International Film Circuit believed that was a solid number to work with—along with the numerous festival awards we had now won—to open The Way We Get By in more theatres across the country. As the bookings for the film started to pile up, we began to gain more confidence. That didn’t last too long.
In August, we opened at Laemmle’s Music Hall in Los Angeles and got killed. The theatre is located in a very affluent Jewish neighborhood in the heart of Beverly Hills. Crowds of elderly Jewish people came in droves to the theater to see films that weekend—just not ours.
Yoo-Hoo Mrs. Goldberg about a Jewish radio pioneer was playing, and Woody Allen’s latest film Whatever Works opened the same weekend as we did. It was tough to see a lobby filled with senior citizens and know they were not there to see our film…with three subjects all over 70 years old.
All in all, over five months, from July – November (leading up to our Veterans Day POV broadcast), we opened in over 60 cities, spending every penny we made in Maine on marketing and promotion. New York and Los Angeles were, by far, the most expensive—hiring PR firms, placing qualifying ads, and putting on special events ended up costing thousands.
In key markets, our screenings became more of an event. In NYC and L.A., we provided special group discounts.
We did “red carpet” events for troops, veterans, and seniors. We deployed our interns across each city, pitching to local groups that had any connection to the film. In Washington, DC, days before our theatrical opening, we had a special screening on Capital Hill with POV, the USO, and Hands On Network as our partners. It garnered national press and the next day, we received an invitation to the White House to meet with Vice President Biden. That visit was not only an incredible, lifetime experience; it also helped spread the word about the film.
But now the film was also going to create an amazing personal opportunity for us as well…..
END PART IV. Part V, and the conclusion of the series, is tomorrow with:
Gita Pullapilly and Aron Gaudet are now working on their next project—a narrative feature, “Go Baby” they plan to shoot early next year. They recently launched SUNNY SIDE UP FILMS, www.sunnysideupfilms.com, which also supports the national distribution of independent films.
Tune in to seeThe Way We Get Byfor its encore presentation as part of the 2010 season on POV August 3, 2010. For more information, visit: www.thewaywegebymovie.com
