In early February, my small edit team and I relocated from my base in San Francisco to the fog-bound woods along the Mendocino coast. We were tasked with bringing our loose assembly of my doc-in-progress  – which, at the time, clocked in at a dense and daunting 11-hours– …]]>

In early February, my small edit team and I relocated from my base in San Francisco to the fog-bound woods along the Mendocino coast. We were tasked with bringing our loose assembly of my doc-in-progress  – which, at the time, clocked in at a dense and daunting 11-hours– down to a digestible rough cut.  It was a challenge I had dreamed about for years. And, in my mind, there was no better place to accomplish this than isolated in the idyllic Northern California wilderness. I had hoped to remove ourselves from the world, to insulate us from all distractions, immersing ourselves fully within our footage. Our doc (tentatively titled ROOTS AND WEBS), which is about two former soldiers who find a new life and family in Oregon’s wild mushroom hunting trade, is grounded in the forest as a place of refuge. So, I had also hoped that the natural majesty around us would work its way into the film. After two months of laboriously editing from our own woodland haven, we proved successful: we had a cut just under two hours.

But then, came the point when we had to actually show it to people.

After my protected little post-production bubble, the prospect of others watching it was terrifying. I have worked in documentary film for eight years now and seen many a rough cut. However, this was my first time directing. Anxiety welled up inside me each time I thought about new eyes on our film – no matter how much I loved our characters, themes and storylines. I found myself zealously telling filmmaker friends offering to give feedback, “I’ll show you the next cut. Not this one. Give me one week. Or five.” I never thought I would feel ready.

My team and I, though, had the good fortune of being accepted to IFP’s Doc Lab. This meant that there was a firm deadline when we had to show the film. So, last week, I found myself in the throngs of New York City, worlds away from Mendocino.  I was nervous – no one else outside of our internal team still had seen the cut. And, true to form, I was editing away until the very last second, attempting to sneak our most updated version into IFP’s queue.  The day came when we had to watch it.

So we watched it. And it was over. And all sorts of realizations rushed forth.

Years ago, I heard the phrase “break your eyes open” in regard to the creative process. I don’t remember specifically where it came from (a quick Google search reveals it’s the song title by Blue Angel. This song was not my initial source of inspiration…), though those words always stuck with me. To me, the phrase referenced the ability to shatter a vision that first appeared salient and cohesive to instead give way to a clearer means of seeing one’s own art. This was a practice I had myself hoped to implement, especially after two months of working within relative isolation. However, the concrete steps towards this seemed elusive at best.

But, at the IFP Lab, I felt as though this had actually happened: my eyes got broken open and I began to comprehend my film in a new light.Through the feedback sessions and mentorship the Lab provided, I was dislodged out of my protective bubble and forced to wrestle with the essential questions that lay outside of our internal team.

See, the world of my film – like many documentaries – is composed of culturally specific codes, shifting meanings, esoteric rules, histories and storied landscapes. In my rough cut, I had at once tried to portray this mess of complexity but simultaneously neglected the most basic of information. I attempted to illustrate: the economy of the mushroom trade, the political history of Southeast Asia (where the majority of our mushroom hunters come from), the racial politics of the Oregon woods, the life cycle of the matsutake mushroom, and more, all the while pretending to be a “character-driven” film with a narrative arc.  But, I had left out the key context that would actually orient viewers in the Mushroom Camp world. I had wanted to tell it all, yet withheld so much. I was so inside of my own head (which, I know is essential for a period of time) that I had not yet effectively considered how to make the film intelligible to outsiders.

The IFP team, as well as the seasoned producers and editor mentors they recruit, helped me see to this massive issue (and, of course many other things) at exactly the right point in time. And, they did so within a supportive, creatively nurturing environment. They pulled me out of my self-imposed isolation and introduced me to a community of experts, as well as my own first-time director peers. The Labs helped build pathways out of my little haven in the woods – and out of my own mind – towards new comrades all over the country. I now feel much better equipped to distill the film down to its most potent stories and essential meanings; to find the ways to communicate both complexity and clarity of narrative, all the while sticking to my proverbial artistic guns. We have challenges ahead of us as we continue post, but I am armed with a reinvigorated means to see the film –with new eyes now broken open.

In the year and a half since Brian Newman wrote his very apt and memorable post, “Killing the Film Fest Panel,” panels haven’t improved much. In that time, I’ve spoken on or moderated over a dozen panels, …]]>

Producer Peter Phok and I speaking on a panel at IFP’s Filmmaker Conference.

In the year and a half since Brian Newman wrote his very apt and memorable post, “Killing the Film Fest Panel,” panels haven’t improved much. In that time, I’ve spoken on or moderated over a dozen panels, and it seems that panel organizers haven’t really taken Brian’s suggestions to heart. The majority of film panels remain as excruciatingly boring and useless as ever.

So, let’s try a different tack: I propose that we panelists and moderators step up our game and give the (sometimes paying) audiences a better panel. Here’s how:

1. Be succint. This is the golden rule of panel-speaking. Way too often, I feel like I’m being held hostage by a long-winded moderator or panelist. I see the eyelids of audience members flitting with sleep as the Run-D.M.C. lyrics, “You talk too much, you never shut up,” loop in my head. Speakers (and everyone else for that matter) should learn how to say more with less words. Time on panels and time in life is limited, so please stop wasting it.

2. Stay on topic. It’s OK to go off on a tangent once in a while if it’s relevant and instructive, but people came to hear you based on the topic that was advertised. So do your best to keep reminding yourself what your panel is about, and what key questions the audience expects you to answer.

3. Know your audience. Tailor what you say to who’s in the audience–directors vs. producers vs. press vs. laypeople, etc.–and the level of their film knowledge. I always like to poll the audience at the start of each panel to find out who’s in it. Also, ask the panel organizer or festival programmer about the audience composition.

4. Be specific & universal at the same time. Your expertise is based primarily on your own particular experiences, so it’s good to offer specific anecdotes, but only if they can be applied broadly. Don’t be an obvious shill for your specific agenda and interests–always frame them in terms of how the audience might apply them to their own experiences. However, be careful not to go to the other extreme and start speaking in vague platitudes. It’s alarming how many mantra-like tweets emerge from panels–it’s just a stupid panel, not an evangelical mass. And remember: nobody knows anything anyway.

5. Be conversational. Don’t talk at people, talk with people. The most interesting panels are interactive. I love engaging in genuine conversations with my co-panelists or audience members. To me, dialogues are almost always more compelling and instructive than monologues.

6. Be flexible & organic. This relates to the preceding point. If you are too stubborn about making certain points, or too rigid in your delivery, people will get bored. Like in a film production, you must allow for “happy accidents,” so listen to what your co-panelists are saying and react to them.

7. Be honest & real. Audiences aren’t stupid; they can tell when you’re being phony. Also, share as much insider info and data as you can without violating your confidentiality clauses or threatening your own livelihood.

8. Don’t be boring. You are on a stage with a mic in front of a captive audience. Say something provocative or crack a joke every now and then!

9. Moderators: Don’t be afraid to cut people off. This one is just for the moderators. Don’t be afraid of reminding panelists how much time they have left or cutting them off and bringing them back down to earth. You guys are the “ADs” of panels. It’s your job to keep things moving and on track!

10. Audiences: Don’t pitch your own projects in the Q&A. OK, this one’s a postscript, but I gotta say it because this is such a common problem. I’m sure your project is very interesting, but no one came to that panel to hear about it. So please keep it to yourself, and just ask your question–which will be broadly applicable and succinct, of course!

From the IFP’s recent Industry Connect Event with DCTV and the NYTVF

LES Film Fest 2012 | IFP BLOG #2 (watch us watch submissions) from BFD Productions, LLC.

Vibe, Energy, Aesthetic

by Deepak Chopra…actually Us

We’ve never read a Deepak Chopra book, although we get the good bits from our Facebook News Feeds (it’s very en trend now).  “I’m not religious, but …]]>

LES Film Fest 2012 | IFP BLOG #2 (watch us watch submissions) from BFD Productions, LLC.

Vibe, Energy, Aesthetic

by Deepak Chopra…actually Us

We’ve never read a Deepak Chopra book, although we get the good bits from our Facebook News Feeds (it’s very en trend now).  “I’m not religious, but I am spiritual.”  Shut the F up.

The aesthetic choices we make, and the energy of the spaces we pick create a certain VIBE.  These are the important elements that set the LES Film Festival apart.  Where most film festivals believe that identifying with a location and packing screening rooms is enough, we take a different approach.  We want to have a unique style/brand that separates us from the generic, run of the mill festivals.  Something that is more human, personal, fun, less corporate, and more approachable.

All of our screenings are Bring Your Own Booze, lively, and fun.  We want our audience and filmmakers to not feel intimidated when they buy their ticket and to not feel intimidated when they walk in the space.  We want everyone to feel like a valuable guest at our party.  Good Choices.  Good Energy.  Good Vibe.

Every Detail Matters

We take great care with all of our marketing materials and any other information pertaining to us.  Every detail from colors to font to images to verbage are all conscious choices.  Every detail matters.  The words and images we use in talking about ourselves are our first impression, and we hope to represent ourselves as accurately as possible.

For LES Film Festival 2011, we thought it was important for people to be a bit “familiar” with who we were before the festival began.  We pounded the pavement in the neighborhood, hung up flyers,  talked with folks, and posted videos of ourselves talking about the fest online.  We tried to make our presence known as much as possible and took the reigns in doing this for ourselves.

Now for friends…

Tony Castle & Damon Cardasis

Roxy Hunt & Shannon Walker

T-Rox

Tony Castle and Roxy Hunt (affectionately known as T-Rox).

Damon met Tony and Roxy of BFD Productions at their mutual day jobs.  After T-Rox attended Damon and Shannon’s show, VICKY AND LYSANDER, the conversation of working together arose and teaming up made sense.

Tony and Roxy are a talented filmmaking duo who run BFD Productions, a company that produces videos, graphic design, and film events such as the The Vail Film Festival, Vimeo Offline, and their original brainchild, The BFD Film Festival that they created back in college.

To be honest, when we first thought of the idea of a festival catering specifically to filmmakers like ourselves, filmmakers with little to no budgets, it felt as if we had just jumped off a very tall TALL cliff.  Tony and Roxy helped us in ways we couldn’t have imagined.  Together, we all focused in on how best we wanted the festival to be represented and how we wanted it to look and feel.  They built our fabulous website, created marketing materials, helped program the films, and became our fellow festival directors. Between the four of us we do absolutely everything.  EVERYTHING! (more on this in the next post…)

The Day Job, Forging Ahead and Why Working With Good People Makes it Easier

Like most “artists” we have had to hold down day jobs to make ends meet.  In a lot of ways this can suck, and you find yourself practicing a lot of self motivation in front of the mirror.  The fact is, it is exhausting to work all day at your job only to start work on what you’re passionate about in the evening.  It’s tiring and draining and you find yourself resenting your friends who are completely content working behind a desk at an insurance agency, but you need to pull yourself out of this!!!

Yes, they have dental insurance and their company matches their 401K, and YES once a year they get a beautiful sheet cake served in the conference room with Bonnie from Accounting leading the “Happy Birthday,”  but so what!!!  She IS captain of an adult  acapella group and sings a fun rendition of “UMBRELLA,” but still… SO WHAT!!!  You can either bitch about what you don’t have, or you can just keep going.  One foot in front of the other.

Most days after working… work on the festival begins. This can involve anything from meetings with potential sponsors or partners, to submission screenings, to making short films of our own.  That is why it is important to work with people that you love spending countless hours with. How lucky we are to work with people we love and respect.  This is what gets you through it.  Being able to laugh most of the time and entertain one another while making work is THE BEST!  When you are pulling 14-16 hour days, working weekends and days off, you want to do it with people that you TRUST and enjoy being around!  It makes the work fly by!

Friends And Business

We’ve learned how important it is to work with people you have fun with, people who listen, value your input, do not get defensive, politely tell you you’re wrong, and most importantly get the job DONE.  Our friendship with Tony and Roxy grew substantially from just working together and being able to rely on one another.  But this is not always the case.  A lot of people have the best of intentions, but at the end of the day are not willing to interrupt their social lives in order to do what needs to get done.  This can ruin a friendship.

Tread carefully, choose working relationships wisely, think everything through, stay positive, have some whiskey, chase the whiskey with beer, and most importantly… PUT IN THE WORK.

Sincerely,

Damon and Shannon

lesfilmfestival.com

The LES Film Festival was started in 2011 by creators Damon Cardasis and Shannon Walker as well as by fellow festival directors and creative team Tony Castle and Roxy Hunt. They are entering their second year which will be March 6th-18th, 2012.

So, who the F* Are …]]>

The LES Film Festival was started in 2011 by creators Damon Cardasis and Shannon Walker as well as by fellow festival directors and creative team Tony Castle and Roxy Hunt. They are entering their second year which will be March 6th-18th, 2012.

So, who the F* Are We?

We met at NYU in 2002 at the Atlantic Theatre Acting School. Damon took Shannon’s chair and she intensely confronted him with a stone cold, “you took my chair.”

Thus began a fast forming friendship that developed into us consistently coming up with different ideas and characters, making jokes, mostly to the dismay of our teachers, and resulted in us being separated for the rest of our time together in acting school. It was in our third year that we realized that our sometimes disruptive behaviour could be turned into something positive and began to write sketch comedy together.

After graduation, Damon moved to Los Angeles where he began working at ICM, a talent agency, and Shannon worked at a boxing gym and continued acting in various Off-Broadway productions and in small independent films while writing plays and short stories. In 2007, Damon got a job working for producer Scott Rudin which brought him back to NY and from there worked with Rebecca Miller on her film THE PRIVATE LIVES OF PIPPA LEE.

After working with Rebecca, Damon was inspired to start writing and creating his own work again, and the pairing up with Shannon was only natural. We missed each other. We also knew what this would entail; working day jobs in order to “create” (as obnoxious as that sounds).

Flash forward to spring 2008. We were sitting around with a couple friends talking about making a film, and we just started delegating roles. Shannon would write the script, Damon would direct, and we would all take a hand in producing (big shout out to Tyson Kaup). We raised some money, formed an LLC, Shannon wrote a feature film from scratch, cast the actors, and shot in seven eight-hour days (thank you SAG ultra-low budget rules). From concept to final day of shooting took six months. We had wrapped our first feature film, MARCH! (a mockumentary about an overzealous tenant battling her landlord) for under 10K, and it ended up being a huge learning experience for all of us.

In the meantime, while we were in post-production, we began to plan an improvised dinner party, Vicky and Lysander, in the Lower East Side at the space Grand Opening (an interactive store front that had previously been a pop up Wedding Chapel, a Drive-In Movie theatre, etc). The idea for the dinner party came from a sketch we had performed in college where Damon played the role of Lysander, a flamboyant bon-vivant, while Shannon played the role of socialite Vicky, the “It Girl of Manhattan.”

This married couple represented the worst of NY; social climbing name dropping assholes who are completely diluted in their own prestige. After 80 performances that involved dancing on tables, and scraping dried mac and cheese off of plates, we were exhausted from doing the show in the evening while still holding jobs during the day. The show had originally been planned to run for a month but thankfully positive press, strong audience support, and word of mouth extended it to three months.

MARCH! was now completed. We submitted it to festivals and were looking for a venue in NY to do a run of the film that we had worked so hard on. We discovered there weren’t a lot of doors that were willing to open for us, so we thought, “Alright. We can do this. We’ll build the damn door and then open it for ourselves.” We think highly of our movie and know that other filmmakers feel the same about their work but get frustrated when competing with higher budget films for a spot in the big festivals. We wanted to see what filmmakers who were working with similar low budgets were making and support their work as we were still trying to figure out how to support ours.

Enter Grand Opening. Again.

Having been so warmly welcomed in the space for Vicky and Lysander, we now wanted to turn this pop-up space into a theater, show low-budget films exclusively, eat popcorn, drink booze, and have some conversation afterwards. Informal and fun. This was the plan and hopefully we would have an audience that would be willing to embrace it.

We teamed up with fellow filmmakers and friends, Tony Castle and Roxy Hunt, of BFD Productions (more on them in our second blog), who have amazing design and technical skills. We were all on the same page with concept and programming and soon realized that we needed more help. Tony and Roxy shared the same language and aesthetic and came on board as our creative team and fellow film festival directors.

We pounded the pavement putting up flyers and contacting everyone we knew to help spread the word. We narrowed the submissions to 50 films. Features, shorts, animation, experimental, etc. etc. It was so exciting to see just how smart and creative people could be without the luxury of a huge budget.

Hopefully people would show up.

Well they did. We sold out all the screenings, got a lot of wonderful press (thank you press!), were placed on the “Highbrow and Brilliant” quadrant of New York Magazine’s Approval Matrix and made some new friends, all while having a blast. We were like proud parents at our kids Christmas Pageant standing in the back every night watching all these amazing films that had been made on the cheap. After we closed up Grand Opening on the final night, we all sat around at a bar and started talking, “Ok. Now how do we make this better next year?”

So that’s where we’re at. This year we have more films submitted from all around the world, bigger venues including; Sunshine Cinemas, Crosby St. Hotel and Grand Opening, and a panel of great and eclectic judges including Academy Award Winning Actress Susan Sarandon, performance artist legend Justin Bond, GQ Senior Editor Logan Hill and photographer and filmmaker Harvey Wang.

In this blog we hope you learn a little bit more about us and what it takes to put together a film festival. We also hope to show you our lives as “struggling artists” in NY (no, not trust fund babies who do their art from their parent’s pied a terre in SoHo) but what a modern day struggling artist may look like. The artist that uses whatever free time they have to write and put together various ideas and projects simply by placing one foot in front of the other.

So that’s that. For now. We’ll be blogging at least once a month. Thank you kindly. We’ll see you soon!

Damon Cardasis and Shannon Walker

www.lesfilmfestival.com

You can also follow us on twitter:
@lesfilmfestival
@damoncardasis
@_shannonwalker
@whoistonycastle
@roxitron

Hi, everyone. I’ll be doing a little blogging for IFP from now on. A little background on myself: When I lived in Florida, I wrote, directed, produced, edited, and acted in a no-budget comedy called New Low, which played in the inaugural NEXT <=> section at the 2010 Sundance Film …]]>

Hi, everyone. I’ll be doing a little blogging for IFP from now on. A little background on myself: When I lived in Florida, I wrote, directed, produced, edited, and acted in a no-budget comedy called New Low, which played in the inaugural NEXT <=> section at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival and got me put on Filmmaker Magazine’s 25 New Faces of Independent Film the same year. Since then, I’ve made millions of dollars and now live in a mansion whose foundation is literally built on the backs of indigenous poor people. Well, I guess that’s a slight exaggeration: I live just above the poverty line in a poorly ventilated apartment in Los Angeles. Tomato, to-mah-to.

I’m currently gearing up for my second feature, We’re A Wasteland, which I wrote, and will direct, act in, and probably edit. Wasteland is being produced by Adele Romanski (however you just pronounced that in your head was wrong), a real firecracker of a producer who I was lucky enough to meet at Sundance, and Brad Petrigala, who is also the manager I got from my Sundance-related exposure. Be careful about too much Sundance exposure, by the way. You know, because of the U-V… nevermind.

“But,” you say, “why are you here, telling me all this, you skinny loser?” To which I’ll reply, “I’m trying to gain weight, so I’d appreciate your support.” To answer your actual question, though, Wasteland was selected for the Emerging Narratives section in IFP’s 2011 Project Forum, and I was also chosen to be a part of IFP’s first-ever Emerging Visions program in October… most likely because they were so impressed with how much of a skinny loser I am (it takes a lot of effort).

Because I live in Los Angeles instead of New York, my experiences with IFP have so far been unfortunately limited to those two events, so IFP is quickly becoming “that organization that sends me emails about all of the cool things they’re doing just as a big tease.” Just like my ex-girlfriend, it seems like they’re telling me about their exciting new lives with some guy named “Kevin” just to torture me.

Still, I’m excited for this blog: it’ll give me a chance to share my experiences as I get my first film with a budget off the ground, give me a chance to communicate with other filmmakers, young and old, and provide me with the perfect soapbox to go on a ton of racist, sexist, homophobic rants (only two of these things will actually happen, but you’ll have to wait and see which).

To start things off, I’ll tell a story about something that happened to me recently. I was obviously incredibly lucky to get to be a part of Sundance, and that’s opened pretty much every door that would have otherwise been dead-bolted shut forever, due to what people who defend me to others call “personality flaws.” One of these doors has led to a couple offers to direct projects that aren’t my own.

The first time was shortly after Sundance, when I was approached about shooting the adaptation of a novel. I read the novel and liked it, so, of course, the project immediately fell apart. Perhaps I was like Lenny in Of Mice And Men, I wondered (but, just the part about him being an overgrown idiot). “C’est la vie,” I said… which I’m pretty sure is Latin for “That was a real kick in the crotch.”

The second time happened very recently. I was asked if I wanted to shoot a script that had most of its financing ready to go. I got excited: I could have finally stopped slogging away on my “passion project,” whatever that means, and totally sold out for a relatively small amount of money. It had always been my dream. So, I read the script, which I would describe as The Social Network of movies that are like Weekend at Bernie’s. It seemed to be the scientifically exact opposite of my voice and the type of movies I wanted to make. I was bummed out: I couldn’t put my name on something I didn’t love, and I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to make it work. It’d be like if the school nerd had to give a presentation on why it’s great to have huge muscles and a hot girlfriend; he might be able to get through it without having an asthma attack, but nobody would buy it.

Still, should I take the job? We are in a recession, for god’s sake (or, are we not? It’s like, “Make up your mind already, economy, or should I say ‘Ross and Rachel,’ will-they-or-won’t-they, haha lol what’s this gun doing in my mouth”). I talked it over with my manager, and we decided that I’d rather continue to be broke than make a movie that might change the type of career I’d have. Sure, I could become a director-for-hire and make mediocre comedies that are easily forgotten, but I want to make my mediocre comedies that are easily forgotten.

So, I decided to pass; to continue my life of going out to restaurants with friends, not ordering anything, and then asking everyone at the table if they’re planning on taking that home with them. Luckily, things have been moving along with Wasteland, though. If things continue at the same pace as they have been, I’ll be able to make the project I really care about, which is more than I could ask for.

It might not be my dream of becoming a complete sell-out hack as quickly as possible, but it’s definitely not a bad alternative.

At first I felt like I had to be the sole activist and travel with my BODY TYPED series– hosting screenings and leading workshops. But I soon realized that this might not be the only way to go – and my goal now is to …]]> Screenings and “FILMS IN ACTION” videos:

At first I felt like I had to be the sole activist and travel with my BODY TYPED series– hosting screenings and leading workshops. But I soon realized that this might not be the only way to go – and my goal now is to also hook up with already existing organizations and plug the films into the work that they are already doing. So, I’ve decided to produce a series of short videos that show activists and educators using the films in creative ways. They are sort of video activity guides – and were really fun to produce.

As I started this process, I began thinking about the first film in the series WET DREAMS AND FALSE IMAGES –it’s about a barber learning about photo-retouching. Since barbers have so many men and boys sitting in their chairs everyday, they really have a chance to have a lot of influence. So why not host a screening/ discussion in the barbershop…

Dee Dee the barber & his sister Daralee

Dee Dee, the main “subject” (or better as they say in the UK “contributor”) just opened up a new barbershop with the help of his sister, a Brooklyn high school teacher – so I went by and talked to them about the idea of hosting a screening. They were excited about doing it in their new shop, Fade 2 Famous, and about inviting people they know.

I thought about it, and realized that I didn’t want to be the one leading the post screening discussions, and it would be better if it came from the community directly – so I got a team together to do a panel – Daralee Vazquez (Dee-Dee’s siter), Dee-Dee and Raid (two of the barbers from the film), and Quentin Wilcott from Connnect NYC, an organization that leads violence prevention workshops with boys and men. So, people were on board and I was relieved that stuff was in motion and that I really didn’t have to make it all happen on my own. Now it was their event and I was basically going to focus on filming it. We did send emails back and forth and came up with discussion questions – but mostly I let them run with it and decide what key issues were that they wanted to talk about with their community.

I decided to stick with what was a more natural role for me and organize a film crew to come tape the event. And, I’ll admit I was a little overboard on covering it in terms of sound – we had two booms and 3 wireless mikes. But, I wanted it to be covered, and am thinking that some of the footage might eventually get used as a new ending for the longer project (I’m currently at the fine-cut stage of putting all three films together).

Promoting the screening:
So the barbers started organizing the screening — using Facebook to reach out to people in the community, and Dee Dee was able to get a shout out on Hot 97 (since he cuts a DJ’s hair). They also sent texts and emails, and I made small flyers that they gave to customers at the barbershop.

The results: FILMS IN ACTION #2: Media Literacy in the Barbershop

Here’s the video we produced of the screening (Dee Dee’s mother even made empanadas for the event). The post screening discussion really blew me away and there is only a portion in the video but I had to keep it relatively short.

After this screening I decided to reach out to Power Writers at the Nuyorican Poets Café to show that films can be integrated into writing workshops too.
Here’s the video:

FILMS IN ACTION #1: Watch. Write. Read.

Next up is to finish making a website…..

Over-n-out for now,
Jesse

Nutter season is officially upon us.

We’ve entered the stretch of announcement time for top tier festivals in the first quarter of 2011.

I know fourteen narrative filmmakers and five Doc filmmakers, who applied to the January festival.

I know …]]>

Actor Zoe Kravitz & Director V. Mahoney on set. Photo by Kirsten Johnson

Nutter season is officially upon us.

We’ve entered the stretch of announcement time for top tier festivals in the first quarter of 2011.

I know fourteen narrative filmmakers and five Doc filmmakers, who applied to the January festival.

I know nine films/filmmakers, who applied to the February festival.

I know eleven filmmakers, who applied to the March festival.

This past week begins the first round of everyone getting their phone call of acceptance or email of rejection, or the dreaded soul ache of silence.

Weeks like this (occur in cycles throughout the year) testing our sense of safety, deceiving our internal knowing.

If a filmmaker’s blog on an indie site is valuable for anything then let it be the truth no? As my friends and I comfort and guide each other’s overall long term navigation regarding appropriate launch toward optimum filmic needs per individual goals, I am compelled to break code and say something out loud for ye’ up and coming filmmakers;

Actor Gabourey Sibide on set

THE WHERE AND WHY OF FESTIVAL LAUNCH IS F*CKING MYTH. LEGEND. FOLKLORE. I have watched over a decade, every quarter of every year, filmmakers’ spirits get busted, yanked and thrown asunder into the crushing heartbreak of “festival” rejection.

The way I see it, the only thing “we’re waiting on” is a human being to connect with our story in such a manner, that their need to support the film’s existence in the world, matches ours.

The search is absolutely no different from hunting; DP, LP, UPM, PD, AD, CD, LS, financing, cast and so on.

If I insisted on hunting cast and crew based on their connection to the story, then why wouldn’t I also be looking for the equivalent in sales reps, festival launch, distributors? [Full stop].

Billy [Mullligan, Yelling producer] and I, have made some unconventional decisions up for debate, based on one private unflinching need. He and I made a pact at the gate for Yelling to the Sky. (Every film has different needs, our job is to know what those needs are up front, get them met, protect them to the wire and never settle for less.)

The hiccups in our giddyup happen during moments of exhaustion when the veneer and seduction of name “brand” holds a perceived promise of “safety”.

Our nasty, rough, dirty, uncomfortable, dark, messy, complicated job at this point of [finish] is the exact same as it was at the point of [start]. We are responsible to L I S T EN.

We have to listen in each arena of decision making, beyond household names, brands and tiers. We have to listen between consonants and vowels. We have to listen to what is not said. We have to listen to what is withheld. We have to listen to behavior and gesture. We have to listen to pauses and repetition. We have to listen to our insides. We have to listen to the original intention for telling the story. We have to listen to the nexus wail for becoming storytellers.

The lie is; that a film will sink or swim based on an acceptance or rejection.

Actor Shareeka Epps & crew on set

The lie is; that “a” programmer’s interest is not subconsciously subjective to their life experience. In so much as, they’re human and innocently may connect to what excites “them” not necessarily what excites “us”.

Dare we discuss how much of that excitement is also business based? Past relationships, sponsor’s dollar and audience’s dollar. Enormous factors having absolutely nothing to do with the film you bled and died a thousand deaths for. All kinds of shit we will never know, that has nothing to do with us, our talent or our film. That is certain.

Fortunately it is also certain that when we decide to lead with our original intention, [mine is "to tell stories, allowing people safety to feel."] What happens before, during and after steady allegiance to my intention, truthfully, isn’t any of my business.

I am responsible to a teeny, corny lil wish to [allow an exchange between celluloid and human] to the best of my ability, in the given circumstances, with the given tools, in the given time.

Far as I can see, what we, filmmakers are really waiting for (if anything) isn’t confirmation or approval or industry “aww/awe”.

During festival announcement season, indie filmmakers are waiting, via programmers for the same damn thing we’re always waiting for;

A person, to hear what we’ve said, through lens, through performance, through cinematography, through word, through blocking, through locations, through wardrobe, through edit,  through sound, through score, through color correct, through…just through…we’re simply waiting for someone to see us through.

So as we commandeer a respectful, deserved launch. What say, we continue using pre pro-post pro rejections to ignite will and feed purpose.

What if you were to walk in, trust that rejection – on any level of getting a film made – is clarity of what does not–belong.

If this winter quarter of announcements brings you heartbreak, how about you get yourself a nice sized bag of ice cubes, walk to an empty alley, and smash the ice cubes (along with ego) against the wall. Cuss and yell and stomp and howl.

After you smash the last ice cube, turn around and give THANKS TO THOSE WHO REJECT YOU, WITH THE SAME PRAISE FOR THOSE WHO ACCEPT YOU. Have a party, doing mental-laundry; go down the list and thank all the actors who rejected you, the DP’s, the sorted crew, thank the financiers who rejected you, the producers, the post houses, the sales reps, the publicists, the lawyers, thank the festival programmers who rejected you, the distributors and the critics.

Individually thank whoever uttered “no”. They too, are our teachers. They too, are helping us get where our film intends to be.

Lace your bootstraps and walk on,       let            it            go.

Your energy, focus, fight and heart are needed in progression.

Last but not least, let’s give three cheers to our mates, who are catching light before and beside us…

The author. Photo by K. Johnson

By that, I don’t just mean I overshot my deadline.  What I mean is, if I was to choose the ideal starting point for a year of monthly dispatches on the release of my first documentary feature – Puppet - six weeks …]]> I should have written this post six weeks ago.

By that, I don’t just mean I overshot my deadline.  What I mean is, if I was to choose the ideal starting point for a year of monthly dispatches on the release of my first documentary feature – Puppet - six weeks ago would have been the appropriate time to get started.

Six weeks ago, I was outputting and quality-checking the final HDCam master of my film and shipping it off to DOC NYC where it would premiere.  The last content trims were finished, the credit scroll had been created, and way over four years of tapeless workflow had culminated in a $78 piece of stock which I could carry around under my arm.

So, given that this was the perfect time to begin the story of the film’s release, why would I wait until after the premiere, the reviews, the first contact with distributors had all passed?� Why not grab this moment of anticipation to launch the blog?  The answer is this: I just didn’t have time.  I was buried under the workload of my parallel career.

As the characters inhabiting Puppet (puppeteers working in avant-garde New York theater) point out, it’s not easy to make non-commercial art in America. Their counterparts in Europe and Asia, by contrast, receive the generous government subsidies afforded to valued artists in most of the non-American developed world.  High-minded, art-focused puppeteers in Western Europe are accustomed to job security, a reasonable salary, six weeks of mandatory vacation(!), and they don’t generally find themselves, as they approach their thirties or forties, wondering how they made the irresponsible choice of setting out to provide for themselves through puppetry.

In America, by contrast, structuring the finances for a small theatrical production is an art in itself.� An emerging artist in America needs to be her own grant-writer, agent, publicist, lawyer, producer and psychiatrist (off topic – if anyone has extra Xanax, please email).  Given the realities of New York City rent, the landscape is so bleak it is often automatic self-parody.

Looking upon this reality with my characteristic lack of fortitude, I decided at the very start of my career to try approaching non-commercial art from the other side.  The phrase “parallel career” was coined, to my knowledge, by my fellow IFP Lab alum Dara Kell, co-director of Dear Mandela.  She and Chris Nizza, her partner, share the parallel career duties – alternately taking breaks from editing their awesome-looking film to take gigs editing reality or sports programming.  I would say I bonded with them over the commercial/non-commercial duality, except that they’re actually way out of my league, cool-wise.

When I was seventeen I dropped out of high school, moved to Los Angeles, and tried to get work in post-production facilities.  I missed out on the late-teenage liberal arts college experience, but I got a huge head start on a commercial career – building, gig by gig, a resume which I imagined would someday finance independent films. The advantages of the parallel career are obvious.  Ten years in, I can make a reasonably secure living.  Yes, it is still just a freelance career in media, but compared to the anxiety that pervades the finances of a totally non-commercial artist, I have the job security of a banking lobbyist in a recession.  My corner of the commercial world is political advertising – directing, producing and editing TV ads for Democrats.  I work for an ad agency in Washington, DC that reliably calls me in the late-winter of an election year, promising eight months of solid work.

In parallel career terms, this kind of seasonal work is as good as it gets, affording about a sixteen month cycle to work on (and finance, albeit in a modest way) a non-commercial project. It’s a reverse sell-out: starting with zero artistic cred by working your way up the career ladder, then spending the excess income – rather than on luxury items like real estate or health insurance – on an expensive art project that offers little hope of reliable financial return.  (This is not to say that Puppet won’t make money or even be wildly successful, but verite documentaries about artists don’t on their face compose a fiscally sound retirement plan.)  This formula still isn’t the Western European artist’s life, bathing as they do in exclusive Beaujolais hot springs and taking thrice daily investment-banker performed exfoliating scrubs, but, broadly speaking, it works.

The downside, however, became clear about six weeks ago.  We were invited to premiere Puppet at DOC NYC, and we were thrilled to get the opportunity.  A brand new festival, created by Thom Powers, Raphaela Neihausen, and IFC, promising American premieres of new films by Errol Morris and Werner Herzog.  It was impossible to pass up.  But the first day of the festival was The Day After the Election.

The moment we accepted the invitation and had a solid deadline to finish the film, my parallel-career model would be collapsing on itself. As the budget came entirely out-of-pocket, I edited it myself and couldn’t afford to hire a finishing editor.  I was almost flat broke so I couldn’t pass up the political gig.  What followed was a period of the most intense commercial work I’d ever done.  2010 was incredibly busy for Democratic advertising: the Party had more money to spend than ever , and many, many Democrats needed extra media as poll numbers dropped.  Weekends didn’t exist – July through October was one continuous 115 hour work week.� Puppet was consigned to the rare, late night hours when I still had some caffeine-high and focus left to spend.

So, six weeks ago, when I should have been writing this blog?  I was watching down the HDCam master of Puppet at 3am on a Sunday morning, with my overwhelmingly generous advertising colleagues Steve Lipton and Becki Schneider providing redundant eyes.  When it was over, at 4:20am, I packaged it up for Monday FedEx, placed it gingerly on the shipping shelf, went back upstairs to the edit suites, and started on an ad for a gubernatorial campaign.

The entire point of the commercial career was to finance the non-commercial career, but in the most crucial three months of my film’s life, Puppet was consigned to the dank, exhausted corners of my brain. I had two additional producers, Jared Goldman and Hannah Rosenzweig, whose help in this time was crucial. Nevertheless, at that moment, the entire model of the parallel career – which had felt so wise a year or two prior, when I was able to buy a small camera and take the time away from a job to make the movie – felt counter-productive and masochistic.  My priorities were perfectly inverted; commercial came before non-commercial.  The reverse sell-out was suddenly just like selling out.

But, looking at the struggle of the American artist relying on service jobs and sparse grant money, barely stitching together the funds to live and create…it’s honestly impossible for me to say which path works better.  Under these conditions, with these options, it continuously amazes me that the American art scene perseveres. Puppet is not in any direct way about arts funding, except that one sees implicitly how limited funds strain the lives and relationships of the characters.  But this amazement that marginalized art like puppetry happens at all, that it hasn’t just disappeared under the gargantuan inertia of late-capitalism, the strangeness and improbability of this creative act – this was the starting point for making the movie.

I went to screen Putty Hill at AFI Fest and UCLA, where they also screened my first film, Hamilton (2006), on 16mm. Both screenings were fantastic. If you’re wondering about AFI, hospitality was outstanding and the program was strong. For the second year …]]> Just returned from a super-productive trip to LA!

I went to screen Putty Hill at AFI Fest and UCLA, where they also screened my first film, Hamilton (2006), on 16mm. Both screenings were fantastic. If you’re wondering about AFI, hospitality was outstanding and the program was strong. For the second year (thanks to their corporate sponsor, Audi) all tickets were free, which meant many of the screenings, including ours, were sold out.

This was only my second time in Los Angeles and I took the opportunity to connect with as many friends and industry folk as I could. I met with managers from Caliber and Brillstein Entertainment Partners, producers from Rough House and FilmNation (Juliana Cardarelli and I used to skip school and hang out by the docks). It was great to see my friend and lawyer, Kim Jaime, who represents me and who’s done all legal on Hamilton and Putty Hill, and another high school friend, Debbi Berlin, now a distributor with Palisades. Add to that list filmmakers Aza Jacobs, Monte Hellman (maker of great movies and perfect margaritas), Eugene Kotlyarenko, and Brendan McFadden. For bonus points, I even reunited with a homeboy from junior high school, Chad Fisher (see pic below, far right).

Amy Belk, my co-writer on I Used To Be Darker, and I sat down with Ilyse McKimmie and Cullen Conly of the Sundance Institute. It was great to discuss the script we just submitted. Whether or not it’s accepted into the January Labs, their feedback was invaluable.

We had our share of good food (Phillipe’s The Original, El Siete Mares, Delilah Bakery, Umami) and some Only In Hollywood thrills. I was star struck eating lunch next to Parker Posey. Amy got giddy riding an elevator barefoot with Gael Garcia Bernal. It’s awesome and bizarre to enter a space in which everyone is making films or aspiring to make films. In all my years living in Baltimore, I’ve never once entered a coffee shop and seen someone else writing a screenplay. When we sat down in coffee shops in LA to write, everyone around us was doing the same.

Across the board, I left LA with lots of ideas – just affirmation that collaboration is key. In particular, the managers I spoke to offered great advice and encouragement, pushing me to think about how I envision my career and the best way to move forward. I aspire to speak candidly, with transparency, especially when it comes to movies, and both meetings were no-bullshit.

At the same time, I met many young filmmakers at UCLA who seemed inspired by Putty Hill, its ideology and aesthetic. As my producer Steve Holmgren says, “Don’t forget: small movies.” And he’s right. I think I’ll write one for Casey Affleck.

The filmmaker as a young man, reppin

Refreshing the dialogue on the direction independent film is taking, top emerging filmmakers, up-and-coming distributors, and rising stars of new media discuss the state of the industry in the wake of seismic changes in the art and business of filmmaking.

Moderator: Scott Foundas, Film Society of Lincoln Center

Panelists: Matt Grady, Factory 25 Mynette Louie, …]]> Download

Refreshing the dialogue on the direction independent film is taking, top emerging filmmakers, up-and-coming distributors, and rising stars of new media discuss the state of the industry in the wake of seismic changes in the art and business of filmmaking.

Moderator:
Scott Foundas, Film Society of Lincoln Center

Panelists:
Matt Grady, Factory 25
Mynette Louie, Producer of CHILDREN OF INVENTION
Josh Mond, Producer of AFTERSCHOOL
Ben Safdie, Director of GO GET SOME ROSEMARY
Bradford Young, DP of ENTRE NOS, MISSISSIPPI DAMNED

From the 2010 Independent Filmmaker Conference.