VERTIBLOG Film School II - THE $1,500 MOVIE, Part I
So you've got $1,500.
And you have a great script. Or at least a script that you think is great. Or at the very least, you have a script you hope is great.
And here's how you approached the script:
Pragmatically.
Now, pragmatism in a creative endeavor is a sticky wicket. You're already thinking in terms of logistics and money, and that seems to fly in the face of creating art. For me... that's OK. It's smart. Primarily because I maintain that filmmaking is first a craft. Sure, sometimes it's a process that may approach the level of art, but at its core it's a collaborative affair that requires the ideas, toolsets, and talent of other people.
You can't do it alone.
The auteur theory may suggest otherwise, but that's where we have to be honest with ourselves. We're not all complete artists. We're not all David Lynch. We're not all Jacques Tati. We're not all Stanley Kubrick. We're craftsmen (and perhaps artists) who strive to make something that other people will enjoy watching. That will have somehow gratify them from having watched it.
Whether our intent is to provoke, caution, enlighten, expose or just to entertain, we have to be aware of the restrictions that are placed upon us; that which opposes us.
And what opposes us are simply two things. The two most basic things that oppose just about everything in our lives: Time and Money. Everything else we can deal with.
When David Lynch was creating ERASERHEAD, he was driven. He was passionate. He gave up five years of his life, spent his own money as well as the money received from the American Film Institute; he lived to get his singular vision to the screen.
And he succeeded.
ERASERHEAD is a testament to his talent, to his (arguable) genius.
But here's the rub.
We're not David Lynch are we?
We don't have five years to make our movie. We're not willing to spend ALL of our money on our film. We're not willing to risk our families, our jobs, our livlihoods.
And my take on all of this is... we don't have to.
I teach screenwriting and independent filmmaking at local colleges, and my approach to the classes is not to teach exceptions. I admire David Lynch for what he did. Hell, I'm in awe of him and what he accomplished. But I feel it would be a disservice to encourage students to take the risks he took and suggest they could do the same and make their breakout film.
Lynch is an exception.
For every David Lynch, there are dozens, hundreds, who lose so much in trying to achieve their vision. They fail. They fail for any number of reasons, but primarily, I propose, there are four biggies.
To succeed as Lynch did, you need ambition... that we can manage; you need lots of talent... some of which can be learned, some must be -- for lack of better phrase -- God-given; you need luck, something we have little control over; and you need contacts.
To succeed as Lynch did, two out of the four won't do it. But maybe three will... if you happen to have one or more of the other components in spades. Say, if you're a genius. Or your dad owns a movie studio. Or you are so driven with ambition, that you absolutely won't say no -- in the face of failure, in the face of ruin, you persist. That may work if you also have, say, some luck and lots of talent.
My point is that the risk/reward factor is so unbelievably skewed in independent filmmaking, that trying to learn from these exceptions can be dangerous. And thus, not very smart.
Spike Lee could have ended up homeless if John Pierson hadn't taken a shine to SHE'S GOTTA HAVE IT. Ambition and talent he had to spare. But without some luck and a few contacts, there would be no 40 Acres and a Mule Filmworks.
Lots of very talented filmmakers go down in flames, never to have their films screened, picked up, or even acknowledged outside of the cast/crew, their friends and family.
We're not David Lynch, we may not be Spike Lee, but we could certainly be one of those guys.
Anyway.
You have $1,500 and a really great script.
Let's get to work.
(continued)
© 2006 by Marty Langford
And you have a great script. Or at least a script that you think is great. Or at the very least, you have a script you hope is great.
And here's how you approached the script:
Pragmatically.
Now, pragmatism in a creative endeavor is a sticky wicket. You're already thinking in terms of logistics and money, and that seems to fly in the face of creating art. For me... that's OK. It's smart. Primarily because I maintain that filmmaking is first a craft. Sure, sometimes it's a process that may approach the level of art, but at its core it's a collaborative affair that requires the ideas, toolsets, and talent of other people.
You can't do it alone.
The auteur theory may suggest otherwise, but that's where we have to be honest with ourselves. We're not all complete artists. We're not all David Lynch. We're not all Jacques Tati. We're not all Stanley Kubrick. We're craftsmen (and perhaps artists) who strive to make something that other people will enjoy watching. That will have somehow gratify them from having watched it.
Whether our intent is to provoke, caution, enlighten, expose or just to entertain, we have to be aware of the restrictions that are placed upon us; that which opposes us.
And what opposes us are simply two things. The two most basic things that oppose just about everything in our lives: Time and Money. Everything else we can deal with.
When David Lynch was creating ERASERHEAD, he was driven. He was passionate. He gave up five years of his life, spent his own money as well as the money received from the American Film Institute; he lived to get his singular vision to the screen.
And he succeeded.
ERASERHEAD is a testament to his talent, to his (arguable) genius.
But here's the rub.
We're not David Lynch are we?
We don't have five years to make our movie. We're not willing to spend ALL of our money on our film. We're not willing to risk our families, our jobs, our livlihoods.
And my take on all of this is... we don't have to.
I teach screenwriting and independent filmmaking at local colleges, and my approach to the classes is not to teach exceptions. I admire David Lynch for what he did. Hell, I'm in awe of him and what he accomplished. But I feel it would be a disservice to encourage students to take the risks he took and suggest they could do the same and make their breakout film.
Lynch is an exception.
For every David Lynch, there are dozens, hundreds, who lose so much in trying to achieve their vision. They fail. They fail for any number of reasons, but primarily, I propose, there are four biggies.
To succeed as Lynch did, you need ambition... that we can manage; you need lots of talent... some of which can be learned, some must be -- for lack of better phrase -- God-given; you need luck, something we have little control over; and you need contacts.
To succeed as Lynch did, two out of the four won't do it. But maybe three will... if you happen to have one or more of the other components in spades. Say, if you're a genius. Or your dad owns a movie studio. Or you are so driven with ambition, that you absolutely won't say no -- in the face of failure, in the face of ruin, you persist. That may work if you also have, say, some luck and lots of talent.
My point is that the risk/reward factor is so unbelievably skewed in independent filmmaking, that trying to learn from these exceptions can be dangerous. And thus, not very smart.
Spike Lee could have ended up homeless if John Pierson hadn't taken a shine to SHE'S GOTTA HAVE IT. Ambition and talent he had to spare. But without some luck and a few contacts, there would be no 40 Acres and a Mule Filmworks.
Lots of very talented filmmakers go down in flames, never to have their films screened, picked up, or even acknowledged outside of the cast/crew, their friends and family.
We're not David Lynch, we may not be Spike Lee, but we could certainly be one of those guys.
Anyway.
You have $1,500 and a really great script.
Let's get to work.
(continued)
© 2006 by Marty Langford
posted by Marty at 11:50 AM
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