filmanddonuts ASKED:

Hi Sridhar. I watched your director's reel and I really enjoyed it. I'm planning on putting together my own reel in a few months and I've shot comedies, dramas and some behind the scenes work over the last year or two. Would you suggest doing shorter, separate reels or doing a reel that featured the best of my work, regardless of genre?

It’s a really great question, the answer to which I’m still trying to figure out.

After several variations, I cut three different versions of my reel - the one you see now (see below), one that featured performances only, and another that had a mix of both. It was tough deciding what I wanted to feature - my visuals, my performances, or all the above.

After some thinking I took the stance that we work in a visual medium, and first and foremost I want to grab the attention of any prospective clients/ agents through my visuals. I chose specific visuals that had performance undertones and mixed them in with pure imagery.

You have something in your resume which speaks to the contrary, which is that you’ve shot comedy. Comedy is primarily about timing, and unless you shot slapstick/ physical comedy, you can’t convey timing in a visuals-only reel. It’s a little easier to get a dramatic piece across in that you can highlight peaks of intensity, which despite being only a single facet of dramatic performance, is what most people tend to associate with drama and good acting. (Note that in the clips selected to highlight Best Performances at the Oscars, the academy always chooses the parts where people are either crying our shouting. It’s easy for people to digest that “hey, that must be good acting, they’re shouting!” We all know that the greatest acting is in the quieter moments, where the boiling happens underneath the skin. Which is why Daniel Day-Lewis wins everything.)

In my opinion (and there’s no right or wrong answer to this), I would suggest first making two reels - one for your visuals and the second for your comedy/ drama. Then try merging the two and see if it works. It becomes challenging in that you’ll have to find music and pacing that mixes all the genres that you’ve worked in. I’ve seen some reels that use a stop/start mechanism, where they’ll start out with a clip of dialogue, cut to a visual montage with music, then back to a dramatic/ comedy piece, and then end it with another visual montage with either the same or a different piece of music. This might be something worth looking into.

But here’s one very important thing to remember. When promoting ourselves, it’s important to edit. Whether it be a reel or a resume, we don’t need to put everything we ever did out there. People have short attention spans, and they’re wired to shut you out at any given opportunity. It’s just how we’re designed, as it’s a survival instinct that resides in our animal brain. If it’s not worth our time, we must conserve our energy and resources for something that is.

Choose material that is going to impress. It’s quality, not quantity. I’d rather have one minute of amazing material than six minutes of average. On a resume I’d rather see that someone directed an acclaimed short that got into good festivals, than fifty-two videos that were “distributed” on YouTube.

To quote Jerry Maguire, “we live in a cynical world. A cynical world. And we work in a business of tough competitors.” There’s a lot of competition, a lot of it very good. I watch videos on Vimeo and am consistently astounded by the quality of filmmaking talent out there. It’s too easy to get intimidated and feel like we have to put it all out there or else someone will think we’re not productive. But as an employer in film, I don’t want proficiency without quality. Talent, vision and craft is what matters, and if you’ve only got one minute of 100% quality work, then that’s what I need to see.

Think of a reel as an elevator pitch for your skills. You’ve got only a small window of attention to capture, so bring out your big guns first and impress. Once they like you, you’ll have time to fill in the details later. Which brings me back to your question about your reel. The only caveat that I have about incorporating comedy and drama into your overall reel is that these scenes, and comedy especially, take time to develop and pay off. That is valuable time. Be very judicious in picking your clips, and choose ones that can have a quick payoff with as little setup as possible. Which is why examples of physical comedy work best. If you’re finding that the inclusion of these scenes are killing the pacing of your reel, then I’d suggest breaking your reel into two and presenting them separately, which is what I’ve done for myself. Lead in with the visual reel, and follow up with the performance. If you can combine them effectively, all the better, but don’t force it.

Hope this helps!

My reel.

So after three different versions and grappling with the philosophy of what and what not to show, this is my final 2013 reel.

Besides Lilith there are some real deep cuts in here, including footage from my first feature, 19 Revolutions and a ton of sneak-peek footage from 7x6x2, my collaboration with graphic novelist Paul Pope. Enjoy!

Sridhar Reddy Directing Reel from Sridhar Reddy on Vimeo.

jacksonismyfirstname ASKED:

Hey! I really enjoy reading your list of films watched in 2013, as I'm doing the same kind of thing for the exact same purpose. So obviously, I've been watching a LOT of films lately and I'm wondering, as an aspiring filmmaker, should I be doing anything while watching these films...? I know that question might seem odd, but what I want to get the most out of these experiences in order to become a better filmmaker. Should I be taking notes or something, or will simply watching suffice?

A great question. I became a filmmaker ten years ago, and made my first feature in 2004, and ever since then I’ve found it incredibly difficult to watch films objectively. It’s almost involuntary for me to watch a film purely from a technical standpoint. The last time I watched a film and didn’t analyze it to death while I was watching it was There Will Be Blood. I was just that much in awe of it, and it pulled me in that much. Of course in my second, third and umpteen viewings of the film thereafter, I pretty much picked it apart shot by shot.

I don’t do that with every film, and I’ve devised a system for me to try to enjoy the experience of watching film and not get bogged down in analysis. It’s pretty simple - I just keep a notepad next to me and when I see a shot that piqued my interest, I make a 5-10 word reference of it so that I can study it later. It’s important to do it this way because it’s important to watch a film all the way through before you analyze it - you might be missing out on context and development that will add further layers to the storytelling.

After I finish watching the film, I’ll go back tot he shots I jotted down. It may even be more than individual shots, it might be an entire sequence, scene or even an act. I’ll watch it again, and here’s what I typically write down in my journal:

1) Camera setup. I’ll do a basic overhead schematic of where the camera was positioned in relation to the actors, the camera movement (if any) and notes of tilts, pans and use of specialty equipment like a steadicam or jimmy jib. It’s always guesswork in terms of what lens is being used, but as you get more and more experienced with film, you’ll generally be able to make a fairly good guess with your eye. A helpful thing to note is that the closest focal length to approximate the human eye is a 40mm lens. If you go to a wider lens, you’ll start to see more and more distortion in close-ups and the the depth of field will be less. The longer the lens, the more depth of field and you’ll have more separation and less distortion in the close up.

2) Blocking. This is the positions and movements of the actors in relation to the camera and each other. A few simple arrows suffice on the camera diagram, and actions are noted (picks up a glass, opens a door, etc.)

3) Key light and production design. The key light is the main light that provides illumination in the scene. To determine where the DoP placed the key light, pause the frame and look at the nose of the main actor. Where the shadow falls is usually the direction where the key light is placed. Make note of any unique/ cool production design, as well as any costume elements. In this section I also make note of any use of CGI/ VFX.


Key light is to camera right and above the actor’s eyeline pointed diagonally. From Tarkovsky’s ‘Stalker.’.

4) Dialogue. I typically jot down what lines are spoken by who, and make note of where dramatic pauses are taken.

So between these four items I’ve pretty much got a very technical snapshot of the shot/ sequence. Now I have to get into my director’s analysis, where I ask two questions:

What is the spine of this shot/ scene? The “spine” is essentially what the scene is about beyond the obvious. If I guy is entering a room through a locked door, the spine is not “guy walks through a locked door,” rather it’s something more along the line of “man enters a hostile environment seeking revenge.” Determining the spine might require you to watch the scene(s) before, and if this is the case, make diagrams of those scenes as well. When writing the spine, it shouldn’t be longer than one sentence, and it should be a short sentence at that.

How is the essence of the spine conveyed? Once you’ve determined the spine, study the performance and production elements and determine how those creative choices conveyed the essence of the spine. If the man walks through the door and the camera is placed at a low angle with a wide lense, we’re conveying a sense power and command by making him appear huge. It feeds into his drive for revenge, gives it an air of raw power. If the camera is handheld and the POV is from behind a production element, we get the impression that he is being watched, and that someone already knew he was coming. If the performance is timid, and he walks through the door covered in blood, then we get a window into his character - he is either disturbed or shell-shocked. If the lighting of the scene is from above, thereby casting shadows under the brow and concealing the eyes, then we get the idea that this is a deep seeded anger, one that may even be blinding his judgement. I think you get the idea of this kind of analysis.


That’s a big gun.

Once I complete this analysis and, if I’m watching on a DVD / Blu-Ray, I’ll check if there is a filmmaker’s commentary, and if there is one, I’ll go to the scene and see/ hear what the filmmakers were thinking of when they constructed the scene. You might find out that your analysis was completely different from the filmmaker’s intent, but that’s okay - you’re still reading the scene through your own language, taste and interpretation, and that is what will help develop your own voice as a filmmaker.

This seems like a ton of work but the more you do it, the easier it becomes and the faster you can do it. It takes me about 6-10 minutes to fully break down and analyze a shot/ sequence, and there might only be one of those in a film, or it might be the entire film (which is what I did with There Will Be Blood and No Country for Old Men and all of my favorite films).

If you keep doing this, your film grammar becomes stronger and stronger, and you’ll eventually e able to do these breakdowns in your head. I haven’t reached that level of proficiency yet - I still need to write things down. But once I write it down, it get filed away in my brain and I’m able to recall things when I need them. When I’m on set and I need to make adjustments, these files in my brain become invaluable. And because I know the spine of the material, I can match the intent/ emotions of a reference to what I need on the set. This is all part of the director’s preparation. Before I shoot a film, I’ll pull anywhere from 5-30 films that are germane to what I’m shooting and I’ll break them all down from start to finish using the aforementioned method. For Lilith I did this with Tarkovsky’s Stalker, Bertolucci’s Last Tango in Paris, Scott’s Blade Runner, Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon and The Shining, Ganz’ Silent Hill and Godard’s A Woman is a Woman. In all it was a few hundred pages of notes, all of which I bound into a single volume, which now sits on a bookshelf in my office. I’ve done this for every one of my films, and my approach will only expand and evolve. I’m gonna need a bigger office.

My New Year’s Resolution: Watch More Movies

I know what you’re thinking - hey, your Best Movies of 2012 list contained so many off-the-map movies, of course you’re watching enough films! (Okay maybe you’re not thinking that). Truth is those films are just movies I’ve happened to see through the year, and they are the best movies that I saw. There are so many countless movies this year that I haven’t seen, and so many older films that I’ve been meaning to watch but simply haven’t gotten around to.

One of the ten commandments of filmmaking is that a filmmaker must constantly be watching movies. It’s the very core of our film education, an education that ends only on the day we die. In college in Boulder I used to watch almost a film a day - I had an amazing local video store (remember those?) called The Video Station who used to stock all sorts of international and indie films, and I had no shortage of movies to watch. On campus we also had a year-round film festival called The International Film Series, which is where I first saw ‘La Haine’, the movie that made me want to make movies. Sometimes on weekends I used to watch two films a day, depending on how shitty the weather was outside. I’d have double and triple features of Kurosawa, Ray and Renoir, or a grindhouse fest of B-movies and spaghetti westerns. These were some of the fondest memories of my life, of watching films and then analyzing almost every frame, going back to the video store and debating with the clerks, and going back home, throwing on a record, and making notes on what I liked and what I didn’t like. I was simply devouring cinema, music and storytelling at an alarming rate, not because I didn’t have anything else to do (I was a triple major in undergrad), but rather because cinema made me happy and was a solace and comfort. In Boulder a lot of folks turned to ganja, and my drug of choice was Godard.


..and Anna Karina.

As I’ve progressed in my life and really dug into work, I’ve found that while my passion for cinema has only increased, but my actual watching of cinema has dropped. Plummeted. I’m lucky these days if I see 1-2 films a month. Not because I don’t have the time, but rather some kind of weird roadblock has come up. I have Netflix and Amazon Instant, and I live a few train stops down from Facets, the Gene Siskel Center and some of the greatest resources for independent and international cinema in the world here in Chicago. So access to cinema is not the issue, and since I generally sleep 3-4 hours a day, I’ve got plenty of time to see more movies than I do right now. So I really have no other excuse other than I’m just not watching movies.

I feel like my cinema literacy has dropped tremendously as a result. I still have a very, very large mental library of reference in my head to draw upon - I’ve seen thousands of movies, short and long, animated, avant garde, from almost every nation, and they’re all stored and categorized in my brain. I’ve got a DVD library that has expanded past 1,000 titles, and I’ve watched every single film back and forth in that library, and I know what I like and what I don’t like in that library.

But here’s the problem. After making two feature films, a documentary and a number of shorts, I feel like my reference well is running dry. In my first two features I’ve drawn upon so many of the things I love, and avoided the things I really despise. In some regard with my new scripts I feel like I’m falling back on that old library, and my literacy - the cinematic conventions and ideas that define the medium, has stalled because I simply haven’t been consuming a steady diet of cinema.

I tend to fall back on analogies between filmmaking and cooking a lot, and that’s because both trades are incredibly similar, in that we put up our personal taste and work for public consumption. There are chefs that revel in the classics, producing fine French dining that has remained unchanged for centuries, and eating that food is experiencing the refinement of an era, a pinnacle of classic technique. Then there are chefs that view the kitchen as a laboratory, turning classic food and techniques on their head by cooking without fear, and experimenting with everything. There’s a time and place for everything - sometimes one doesn’t want to eat a liver mousse foam, we just want a beautifully made ham and cheese sandwich. And sometimes a chicken cordon bleu is just the most boring thing in the world, and you want to try a compressed sous vide fried chicken made with wasabi because that’s something you’ve never experienced before.


I love me some fried chicken.

Personally I revel in the latter, because to make an amazing sous vide fried chicken, you still need to know what makes an amazing fried chicken in the first place. You have to study the classic recipes to create something new, something that is rooted in tried-and-true, but takes that very bold step out towards the truly unconventional.

Same thing for filmmaking. To make a Beasts of Southern Wild, you first must study the great fantasies of Miyazaki and Disney. When we apply our unique worldview and ideas to the base of antiquity, what we produce is true innovation, a dialectic of ideas rooted in classic foundations. And that foundation must be constantly evolving and growing, absorbing all that is available. In my mind because Beasts of Southern Wild was already so bravely made, it belongs in the library as a reference, it is already part of the foundation upon which we build.

Ever since making my New Year’s resolution I’ve watched the films of Agnes Varda for the very first time, and she’s inspired me to really try some new stuff in my Paul Pope project. Last night I watched the classic erotica of Jean Rollin, starting with the seminal “The Iron Rose.” So beautifully shot, tastefully raunchy and blissfully cheesy. It’s not going to influence anything in my mind right now, but it brought back the feeling of simply watching a movie and enjoying it for what it is, in the moment at that time. It goes into the reference library in my head.


Jean Rollin’s ‘The Iron Rose’

So my goal is to watch a minimum of 2-3 movies per week, and I’m going to list those movies on these blog posts from here on out. And if I don’t post at least 2 movies per week, I want you to call me out and force me to watch a movie. I’m counting on you to help me with this.

So as of this week I’ve seen Agnes Varda’s Cleo from 5 to 7 and Jean Rollin’s The Iron Rose. Django Unchained is up next.

Screenwriting: Adapting Comic Books.

So the cat is out of the bag regarding my short. As published in the Hollywood Reporter last week, graphic novelist Paul Pope and I co-directed a sci-fi western called ‘7x6x2.’ The film was shot over two days last month in the Mojave Desert, and we used Sony’s brand spankin’ new 4k digital cinema camera, the F55. We also used the F65 on the shoot, and it turned out really lovely. As soon as we get word, we’ll be releasing it online for free for everyone to see.

During the Sony event, Paul and I were asked frequently about the process of adapting a comic book to film. It became apparent that a majority of the public thinks that comics are a natural transition to film. It’s not difficult to see why people would think this way, because there are sequential images with action and dialogue already mapped out. “Comics are basically storyboards for a film, correct” a young woman asked. After all, isn’t that what Robert Rodriguez and Zac Snyder did with ‘Sin City’, 300 and ‘Watchmen’ respectively?

While I like all three of those films immensely, they are literal conversions of comics to film - using the frames as storyboards - and I feel like so much is lost in that process. The films feel flat and two-dimensional, much like the pages they’re drawn upon. They have incredible action and are entertaining, and in that way they are rousing successes. But if we really want to replicate the experience of reading a comic book on film, then we have to be mindful that what we don’t see on a comic book page is far more important than what we do see, and it is what we don’t see that becomes the heart of our cinematic adaptation.

First, let me post two pages from my favorite comic book of all time, Frank Miller’s Elektra: Assassin. It’s one of my top-three dream projects to adapt (Julia Voth as Elektra? Believe me the thought has crossed my mind and trust me, she’s more than capable.) Give it a good read and let it marinate for a few minutes.


Click on the image for the larger version.

It’s a disturbing sequence from a highly provocative book, one where Elektra is imprisoned, assaulted and tortured in an insane asylum. But I chose it because there’s so much going on internally, and it’s beautifully laid out by artist Bill Sienkiewicz, who utilizes every possible tool at his disposal to get the emotional impact across. It’s a stunning sequence.

Now let’s imagine how to adapt this sequence into a film. By far the easiest way would be - as was in Sin City - to film the frames as they are presented and use Elektra’s voice in a voice-over. It would be a pretty good sequence, especially if it were underexposed and frenetically intercut between the perpetrators in the asylum and The Beast.

But truth be told, we wouldn’t be getting anywhere near the impact we desire because the power of comic books is found in the space between frames, and less in the frame itself. We see the sequence where The Beast claws at Elektra’s face, and the sounds and motion of that sequence is told in our minds, and not in the frame itself. The panels are the mere seedling of the idea, and we fill in the gaps in our own minds. That gap - that interpretation - is where our film adaptation begins. Not with the drawn image or the word balloon. This is the power of comics, and this is where the relation between sequential storytelling and cinema is its absolute strongest.

So let’s revisit this page, and try to adapt it cinematically, abandoning the panel images as storyboards, and instead looking at the spaces between the panels for us to tell the story. In the first panel Elektra mentions the “clatter of sharp tools,” and in the next panel we see The Beast lacerating her thigh with sharp claws - in my mind this is a match cut, one that can be expanded further by having Elektra see the tools as extensions of a hand. Once she is gassed, she can see the fat slob perv insane asylum worker himself as the beast - a transformation - with scaled hands and scalpels for nails. The asylum itself can transform, mutating with wet, slimy walls and lit like a cave. When the gas is turned on, we hear it as gas, but in actuality it is MILK that comes pouring from the mask, and Elektra is further assaulted with macabre transformations. This is the feeling I get when I look in the spaces between the panels, and I don’t need a voice over to guide me through it all.


From Adrian Lyne’s ‘Jacob’s Ladder.’

This is my overriding philosophy towards ANY adaptation, really, be it prose, poetry or comics. It’s the space between words and images and panels where the film story resides. We must always remember that film is a visual medium, and the visions created when we read a great book, hear a great song or read a wonderful comic book is the movie created in our head, and not from the page itself. Our responsibility when we adapt is to capture the essence of the base work. Audiences are paying us to see our adaptation of the works, and not a mere transliteration of the written page. If we compare the artistry of the Harry Potter films to say, The Hunger Games, we see the difference in quality of adaptation. The Hunger Games is a word for word adaptation - there are no surprises and no addition to the story that we hadn’t already experienced in the books. But in Harry Potter, each director put their own perspective on the films, bringing in a level of sophistication and inference that the books merely referenced. In Harry Potter, we were treated with the ability to experience what it meant to be a boy wizard, as opposed to simply observing it. And that’s the major difference.

What would be more interesting - simply watching Elektra, or going through the same anguish and disorientation through the powerful tools of cinema? I’d very much prefer the latter, and as a filmmaker it’s a welcome challenge to do justice to the images and words of comics and making them stand alone as pure cinema, and not as a simple “comic book adaptation.”

___________________________________________________________

Hey! Need a stocking stuffer for that hard-to-shop-for friend? How about giving them a gorgeously-shot supernatural horror movie about a beautiful woman who goes into the depths of Hell and confronts ghosts of her past and tackles such family-friendly issues like rape, incest and mass murder? Oh and did I mention it has a kickass soundtrack and tons of DVD extras including awesome in-depth commentaries by Julia Voth and Sridhar Reddy? Buy your copies now by clicking here. You can thank me later. :)

As always, thank you so much for your support, and have a great weekend!

attitudeandsyndicate-deactivate ASKED:

I'm thinking about getting into Directing, do you have any tips for first-timers?

Sorry for the late reply, I’ve been getting around to answering my backlog of messages. Feels good to get back in the game!

First and foremost, the most basic tip I can give you is to prepare, prepare, prepare. You can never, in my opinion, prepare too much. Break down your script, create shot lists, create acting objectives for each scene, storyboard complex sequences in advance, and rehearse if you can. Some argue that preparation kills creative spontaneity, but I’m in the camp that it actually promotes spontaneity because you’ve covered the basics before you’ve even stepped in front of the camera. You are free to make adjustments based upon the moment, of what your actors and environment are giving you, of what your instinct is telling you (more on that later). But to go into a shoot unprepared means you’ll be spending valuable time figuring things out logistically rather than spending time with your actors and key crew. Prepare, prepare, prepare and you’ll be freeing yourself to really be in the moment.

Next tip. I think back to my first film and I think the best thing I learned was to get as much coverage as I could. For the uninitiated, “coverage” is collecting as much footage as possible of each scene, and this includes wides, angles, perspectives, close-ups and inserts. A good wide master-shot will ensure that you’ve filmed the scene in its entirety, and that in a worst-case scenario you’ll have the scene in its full for your edit.

But there’s a downside to master shots, which is that they tend to be flat, long and boring. Unless you incorporate interesting movement, layers of production design or choreographed action into your masters, they will tend to read almost flat. You’ll need to have close-ups and inserts to build narrative and interest. But as a fail safe, a master shot is a great insurance policy for a first time filmmaker.

My next tip is to manage your energy on set. Think of production as a battery. Each day you start at 100% and as the day presses on, people’s energy will drain. As a director you’re going to have to be at 100% all the time, but you have to be mindful that your crew and actors will be fading as the hours pass. Manage their energy wisely through scheduling and pragmatism. Rehearsals are great but avoid doing too many - actors will tend to put their energies into their first few rounds and you’ll want to preserve that raw power. Do a walkthrough at half-speed and if you’re shooting digital, you may even want to film your rehearsals. If it’s a complex sequence, then you’ll want to schedule a rehearsal before the camera shoots so that when you’re on set, you’ll be able to fine tune without expending too much time and energy. Avoid numerous takes on things like inserts - shoot them as a series instead.

The two things you’ll never have enough of are time and money. When you shoot, try to consolidate wherever you can without losing your inherent style or objective. If you can say two things in one shot and still keep it visually interesting (think of using a camera move or having your actors move in the frame as opposed to two shots), then you’re saving both time and money. Each setup costs you precious time, so be judicious with what you can do. Early in the shoot take note of your setup times and keep a mental log of what your shots will demand in terms of time and manpower. That long, single take with a steadicam will take time to light, choreograph and execute, so if you’ve allocated the same amount of time to it as you did for an insert of a man picking up a gun, then you’ll be in trouble, and you’ll fall behind. So either incorporate the man picking up the gun in your steadicam shot, or ditch the steadicam shot and do it as a series of shots under a similar lighting scheme. Know what is important and what can be sacrificed. Be precise but avoid being a perfectionist. As Michael Mann once put it, “a perfectionist is someone who cannot distinguish between what is important and what is unimportant.” Directors should be exacting in their overall vision, but they should have the wherewithal to know what is worth investing in and what can be consolidated or even excised. Those decisions will usually have to be made in the moment as you’re running out of time, you’re losing light, your talent is going into overtime, and a rainstorm is on the horizon. Believe me, it always happens, so be prepared for it.

Of course the very best tip I can give you is to listen to your instinct. Your collaborators will be bringing you thousands of decisions to be made each day, and you really have to go with what feels absolutely right to you. Being decisive is very different from being stubborn. You have a vision for your film, and every decision you make should be in service of that vision. If it doesn’t feel right - and you will know when it doesn’t feel right - then you have to act on it and devise an immediate solution to correct it. And if you don’t have an immediate solution, have the humility to ask your crew for their input. Your cast and crew are there to facilitate your vision - they are working with you, not against you - but it is your responsibility to steer them in the right direction to achieve the results you want. Hence the title of the job - director. Create a situation and environment where your collaborators are able to exercise their talents to the fullest as they bring your vision to life. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship that is dependent upon your ability to stick to your convictions and provide directions to making those a reality.

These are just a few tips that I think can help out. There’s tons more tips but I really think these are the utmost important ones.

Lilies

Bat For Lashes

The Haunted Man

Played 499 times

Music for the Weekend: Lilies by Bat for Lashes.

I’ve hit the ground running as we gear up for our two-day shoot next week. Crew is locked, camera tests on Monday, casting and storyboards will be done by Tuesday, creature effects and production design done by Friday, and then out to the desert to shoot Saturday and Sunday into Monday morning. Somewhere in there I’ll find time to sleep and dream a few dreams.

There’s something exhilarating about shooting a picture without the benefit of time. A lot of our calls are on gut instinct simply because we don’t have the time for analysis. This is filmmaking by doing what simply feels right. It’s a new way for me to work, and I’m enjoying every moment. But then any time I get to create, I’ll enjoy it with all my heart. We’ve got some truly amazing collaborators on this project, artists who are willing to step up and help out because it’s just a really great script and high concept. And we all believe in it, wholeheartedly.

Have a safe, wonderful weekend!

Das Rheingold: Vorspiel / Prelude

Hans Swarowsky

Wagner: Der Ring des Nibelungen

Played 589 times

Music for the Weekend: Prelude / Vorspiel from Der Rings Des Nibelungen by Wilhelm Richard Wagner.

A requiem to action. This song is my Ride On Valkyries. I love the smell of waffles in the morning.

So big life event - my short sci-fi film project I’ve been working on for the past few months just got greenllit, and we’re going into production RIGHT AWAY. Like ASAP. Like in two weeks. I’ve got a shitload of work to do before we truck out West to the desert, which is going to double for the surface of Mars. Yeah. MARS. That fucking cool.

Long hours ahead and I’ll try to keep this blog updated through it all. At least as much as I can - there’s some really cool new prototype technologies that we’re using that I won’t be able to disclose. Yeah. Fucking cool, isn’t it?

We’re gonna be on a tight budget and an impossible schedule, but hey that’s par for course for me. But overall it’s just great to be directing narrative work again - and this time I just get to direct - no multiple hats. Just. Pure. Directing. I’ve worked hard for this.

Have a great weekend!

Work ramble.

Been working a lot. Between finishing all the legal paperwork and deliverables for the distribution of Lilith, I’m also doing fundraising and my rewrites on my Paul Pope script. As it turns out, Paul and I have another venture on the near horizon, a short film based off one of his amazing sci-fi short stories. It would be my first legitimate crack at science fiction, and I’m really excited about it. We’re in our final polishes of the script and our funding is promising - we have some amazing partners contributing and it’s a huge step not only for us personally, but also in terms of building blocks for future projects. If all goes to plan, we’ll tentatively start shooting in September / October. More on that as events warrant.


Spirit animals are the subject of the day. Image by Paul Pope.

We’re now deciding on the dates for Lilith’s release and we’ll start platforming in various formats soon. We’re experimenting with some newer forms of theatrical release - I’m all in for supporting these upstart companies who are trying to change the fossil that is studio theatrical distribution, whose costs of marketing and exhibition are exorbitant and unsustainable. The idea is to get as many people to see the film - in both small and large markets - without killing the margins for both the exhibitor, the distributor, and for me. It’s always a bit scary trying out new strategies, but it’s become more of a necessity that an option - we simply don’t have that kind of capitol to roll the film out traditionally. The film is nontraditional in every aspect - from its conception to its execution, so I figure why stop there? Let’s give it a rip - embrace new technologies and strategies, and let’s see where it takes us. My next step is that I’m going to be doing my DVD commentary track with Julia soon and then do the final assembly of the DVD product. Things are moving slowly but we’re always moving forward, never back. I know that’s something most indie filmmakers don’t have the luxury to say, so I’m counting my blessings.

In addition to all that, I’m editing my culinary documentary which I did a few months ago. It’s had to take a back seat to my other work and there’s been a few changes at the restaurant, so we had to adjust a few things on the fly. I did my interviews with the chefs last week and now I can begin the assembly in earnest. Editing a doc is so much more challenging than a narrative feature - I’ll write about it soon. But for now I’m combing through shots of delicious food into the wee hours of the night, taking a break by writing, and then starting the day anew with emails and legal documents about money, formats and regions. Then a few hours for fundraising meetings, a few hours for domestic responsibilities, and then the cycle starts all over again. Somewhere in there I’m doing my weekly sharpie portrait and trying to write on this blog consistently. Been spotty as of recent, so my sincerest apologies for that. As I mentioned in previous posts I don’t have the luxury of a staff, so I’m pretty much doing all of this by myself. Who knows down the line I might hire a few interns, but I need more organization and clarity to get to that point. I try to give my interns interesting and meaningful work, not crap like dropping off my mail. It’s an internship, not indentured slavery.

But as much as this all sounds like a grind, I enjoy every minute of it. I’m working on something I love and am getting paid for it, so I’ve no reason to complain. Sure it’s frustrating, but I remind myself that I volunteered to put myself in this position - nobody forced me to write a script or go out and raise money. Or do this blog, or shoot a culinary doc. It’s all choices I made, and it’s part and parcel of creating something from scratch. It’s the business of being an artist, and while sorting through legal documents and rights agreements may not be an artistic endeavor, it’s what brings art to the world, it legitimizes and protects your work. It’s as vital to the artistic process as picking up a pen and writing ‘fade in’ on a blank piece of paper. And it’s where you ensure that you can make a living being an artist. A career artist, and not a hobbyist who posts cat videos on YouTube.

I get a lot of cynical responses from people with 9 to 5 jobs when I say I’m busy with work. They tend to think that being a filmmaker is a flight of fancy, something akin to the folks on Entourage. I try not to get upset but I remind people that I’m an independent contractor, an entrepreneur, and my work day doesn’t end at 5pm. I start at 7am and end at around 2am. Every day. Even Sundays. And it’s work. It’s not kids playing with toys and playing pretend. It’s making something from scratch that involves coordinating a lot of people from every corner of the planet, and trying to find the money to pay them. All the while you’re taking criticism from people who might like you, but who don’t believe in your ability, and who would rather bet their house on the guy who directed Wild Hogs, because Wild Hogs made good money. And during that time you’re constantly questing your own choices, because hey - Wild Hogs did make a lot of money and Lilith is just too weird and dark.



‘Wild Hogs’ vs. ‘Lilith.’ I think I made the right choice.

It was exhausting just to write that last paragraph. This is a tough job, a career choice that makes you face uncertainty every day. If you’re an actor you walk into an audition not knowing if you’ll get the part. You have to prepare yourself for rejection, because that’s what will happen to you 95% of the time. If you are a producer you have to put everything you have into a pitch, travel on your own dime, and say the things people want to hear without compromising the very reason why you became a filmmaker - to tell the stories that mean something to you. And like an actor, you will get rejected 99% of the time. But you pick yourself up and start again, because you have belief - faith - that someone out there will see the world the same way you do. You adapt and adjust, never losing sight of who you are and what you want to accomplish. I feel like this is where a lot of artists struggle - they lose themselves in the journey. They may get a paycheck but it’s a brimming unhappiness inside, because we’re not immediately doing the work that we set out to do in the first place. Becoming a professional artist is taking a huge risk, and we don’t take such huge risks to muck around in the middle for the rest of our lives.

So insist on quality. Use the lesser projects to get you to that place you set your goal to reach. Never be satisfied. Do that local used car dealer ad and put everything you have into it, make it the best it can be, and make your client impressed with your skill and professionalism. Be proud of your work. If your name is on something, it should be associated with excellence. Hold yourself to that absolute highest standard, and do everything to raise your own bar. Study, rehearse, research, and just keep working, working working. It’s taken me ten years to get to the point where I could buy the rights to a book I loved and not have people question whether or not I’m qualified to make that film. Ten years of doing small jobs, seemingly unrelated work, banal shit. Somewhere in there I accrued enough experience to where I felt I could make Lilith, and that’s what I did. I made a lot of mistakes but Lilith is a high quality film. It speaks of our meticulous craft, it shows we cared and believed in what we were doing, and I’m proud to have my name on it. It’s not the film I always dreamed of making, but it was absolutely required as a step to get me there. Nothing is a loss, there was no time wasted, no dollar spent unwisely. It’s a great, ballsy indie film.

I’ve rambled in this post but I wanted to take a different approach to describing work. A lot of filmmakers have a bad habit of embellishing / lying about how busy they are - one of my favorites in LA is when people tell me they’re “in development’, which can be anything from scribbling an idea on a napkin to getting a promise from an actor they’re sleeping with to star in their film. They talk about how they’ve got a bazillion projects lined up, making it sound like they’re producing all of them at the same time, when in reality they’re a 2nd AD or an art dresser. Which is fine to be a 2nd AD or art dresser, because that’s what we all have to do, myself included. Unless we’re Steven Spielberg, we’re all struggling to make it. So I don’t believe in talking a big game, I believe in my work talking for me. Bullshitting doesn’t impress me, good work impresses me. A love for making film impresses me. People who hustle to make films a reality impresses me. Those are the type of people I want to be around, whom I want to help, and who I’d be honored to have help me. Genuine relationships formed on a common bond, which is to just do good work, and make an honest living doing it.

Hope this post makes some sense. Wrote it from the hip, so it’s more how I’m feeling than any kind of cohesive subject. Back to work!