Friday, October 27, 2006

Last night I went to an event sponsored by DCTV, a local group that helps mostly documentarians put together thier movies. It's a non-profit group, and according to them, the last film collective standing in New York City, which wouldn't surprise me.

Anyway, last night it was all about finding financing for your film. The people there included an entertainment lawyer, the CEO of Cyan Films, one of the founders of Hatchling Studios, the head of the Film Commission in NYC, and one or two others.

Now, funding is the grayest, most vague area of filmmaking. Writing a script, casting, hiring a crew, even shooting a film are relatively straightforward, compared to fundraising. To write, you get your ass in the seat. To cast, you put out a notice, and set up a day for auditions. To shoot, you get your actors in front of the camera. Of course there are nuances to all of this, a certain - as the French would say - I don't know what. But in theory, and to a degree in practice, it's all simple.

Fundraising is not. Mainly because there are so many ways to raise money for your film. You could use existing funds, say, the few grand (or even hundred) you have in savings. This could work for a short, but not a feature. So how do you get money for a feature?

It's pretty basic, but still entirely vague. The way you do it is in some weird netherworld of action. You need a business plan, but you probably won't really use it. You need to know the damn thing inside and out, and you have to cover things like marketing and distribution. I like the marketing part, because thinking up ways to pitch your movie to a potential audience can be fun. But distribution? Fuck if I know. One thing they stressed was don't rely on festivals alone. That doesn't count as a distribution plan. It can count as part of a distribution plan, but that's it.

While there was a lot of information bandied about - some of which I knew, most of which I didn't - I still left with the vaguest notion of where the money came from. In the end, I will need a prodcuer who has experience.

That's another important piece of information, and it's really common sense. If you're just starting out, with no credentials to your name, surround yourself with talent. Get a producer who knows what he's doing. Because if you don't, then you're not going to be able to make what you want.

There was more information at the panel - much, much more - and I may post more of it later, but I think that last piece is the most important piece of all. In the end, this is just a business, and you should treat it as such.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

So on the 14th I was hanging out with a friend of mine, a Russian guy who wants to make cartoons for a living. Anyway, he tells me about this film class he took, and about how after the sessions were over he would be given the title of Producer. Now, it won't actually make him a producer, but he'll know how to produce a film... in theory anyway.

Anyway, I'm standing there with him in his study, and he says to me, "I'll hire you as a director."

Simple as that. I'm a director now. The last camera I stood behind was this morning when I took a photo of The Brothers Karamozov - but that's for another blog altogether. The point is, I haven't directed anything in my life, and here I am lassoed into directing a short film. But that's not all! No, I also have to come up with a script that's about 20 minutes long. Well, what do I have in my back pocket here but The Night Nurse! Or the short version of it anyway.

Or a short version of it.

One of the first things I thought about was "What if I can't get the locations I want? What do I do then?" I looked at the basic story and thought about substitutions. If I can't get a high end apartment, then I'll have to get a regular apartment. If I can't get an electric guitar to play a punk song, I'll have to get an acoustic, and make the song more mellow. Maybe mellow like Beck. If I can't get an office, then I'll have to substitute another scene entirely (which I might do anyway).

So I'm actually thinking of writing several different scripts now instead of waiting for the production to actually begin.

Next? Money, but I'll save that for another day.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

As I was working on the short version of the screenplay, I had to really think about the major themes in The Night Nurse. And in the end, when I had to concentrate the story so much the themes kind of burst out in bright technicolor. Which is strange, because the visual tone is so dark (it's set mostly at night when people are asleep).

What was revealed to me was obvious. It's been there all along, and I've even talked about it with others. One of the major themes of The Night Nurse is regret - that whole "could'a, would'a, should'a" thing. And while the main character Eddie is only 30-ish (probably over, but certainly not under), he has his regrets. When he looks back on his life, he doesn't find much of which he can be proud. But there are plenty of "could'a, would'a, should'a" moments.

This led to some very minor re-writes in the fifth draft. Without spoiling anything - because I know you certainly don't want to be spoiled - I had to re-write a small scene about 20 pages in. It was almost an even trade, three bits of dialogue for three bits of dialogue. Then there was a point about 2o pages later where I had to change a name. And that was it.

But once I got to thinking about the theme of regret, it kind of led me off on my own tangent, and I thought about the regrets of my own life. I've heard that there's a Chinese saying that if you die with regrets your spirit will spend eternity wandering the world. I figure they don't mean little regrets like, "Oh, crap, I never had Cold Stone ice cream." I figure they mean the big regrets, like "I should'a asked out that girl in high school, or at least told her how I felt." That kind of thing. Cold Stone's just down the block. But that girl's probably married with children by now.

Monday, October 02, 2006

I created and printed out a short version of The Night Nurse, which doesn't sound like a big deal. And I guess it's not, really. But sometimes it's easier for me to spot mistakes in a hard copy than it is while said work is on the screen.

At this point, I'm most concerned with how well the theme of the larger piece fits into a smaller structure. It won't be a perfect fit simply because the very nature of the shorter piece - the reason for its very existence - is so different from the larger piece. The short version of The Night Nurse is simply to prove that I can handle myself behind a camera with a skeleton crew (or enough of a crew to get the job done).

As simple read through should do it, because I know what I'm looking for. I know what I want from this script. If I didn't know where I wanted to go with it, then I think I'd be in trouble.

And I think that's the secret to doing anything - or most anything - creative. Know what you're saying, or how you feel. There's nothing wrong with letting the work lead you around. It's not for me, so much, but I understand the appeal. But even in those cases, where your work is taking the initiative, it helps to know what's being said.

Bono of U2 once was asked what the songs of their Achtung Baby album were about. And he replied something like, "We'll find out during the tour." That suggests that the music led the way. But I don't know if that's entirely true. Bono wrote the lyrics and "said" something with them. There's a direction involved, and I think he was being cheeky. The truth is, the best albums, the best novels, the best art knows where it's going and what it's saying, but it's letting you read the map.