They say that creative works are never really finished, we just let them go at some point.  I guess that’s what deadlines are for.  The new versions of step outline, budget and schedule for A Case of the Dismals were due a …]]> For the Spurlock Sisters’ first blog entry, visit: http://filmmakermagazine.com/64191-spurlock-sisters-at-biennale-college-cinema-part-one/

They say that creative works are never really finished, we just let them go at some point.  I guess that’s what deadlines are for.  The new versions of step outline, budget and schedule for A Case of the Dismals were due a week after we arrived at San Servolo, at 2:00PM.  So of course I finished at 1:55. I had also ‘finished’ a couple of hours earlier when I thought the deadline was noon.  With a sigh of relief, Mai and I clicked ‘send’ and off our little package went to the Biennale.  We then had about 15 minutes to savor the accomplishment before rushing off to begin our second week of intensive prep. The concentration this time around?  The Pitch.  We had three days until we pitched Dismals to the folks at the Biennale, so we dutifully ingested our umpteenth espresso and headed to class.

We hit the ground running with a cold pitch of our project to our mentor group and the trainer. The great thing about working on a pitch is that you begin to see where the mechanics of your script are working and where they aren’t.  It forces you to distill your story and whatever it is you are trying to say with it.

I think I mentioned before that it would be interesting to compare my Biennale experience with Emerging Narratives and Emerging Visions at IFP Week last Fall, when I was there with another project The Whispering Giant.  Probably the major difference is the length and the breadth of the training.  While the Biennale is two weeks of story, budget, schedule, pitch and distribution intensives, EN and EV spent a day focusing on our pitch to industry folks for feedback. Emerging Narratives then follows with several days of industry meetings with producers who have expressed interest in your project.  All three of these initiatives offer superb training and exposure for first and second-time filmmakers.

Photo by Tomer Bahat

The morning of our official pitch to Alberto Barbera (Director of the Film Festival) and the Biennale College, Mai and I woke up early to practice a couple more times before we headed to the cafeteria to eat breakfast and find out the running order of the teams.   A Case of the Dismals would be dead last. I guess we’re a hard act to follow!

By lunch break, we were pretty nervous. Ten teams had finished their pitches and were already celebrating over Spritzes and Prosecco. Didn’t want to end up snoring in the aisles when they called our names, so Mai and I stuck to espresso while we had a nice chat with Amy Dotson.

The Spurlock Sisters and Amy Dotson

As our moment approached, I watched the teams ahead of us with a mixture of admiration and anxiety.  These producer/director duos we had gotten to know over the past couple of weeks were impressive – they’d really managed to bring their presentations together in lucid and exciting ways.  Had we come as far as they had?

Finally our names were called.  One of my biggest problems to date had been talking too fast and I had been working hard on enunciating each and every word – even though it sounded to me like I was speaking under water. As we were handed our mikes, I took a deep breath and scanned the crowd for a smiling face. The rest is a blur.  All I remember is looking out at one point and seeing our mentor motioning to me with his hands to slow down.  My sister, who is a bit more level headed when it comes to these things, says we did great.

The rest of the day was a boozy, joyful affair spent carousing with the other teams in a Venice pub before a delicious dinner back at the Biennale, and a bittersweet party back on San Servolo where we said our goodbyes.  While jokes about Battle Royale and the Hunger Games had been tossed back and forth along with tongue-in-cheek murmurings of secret poisons to eliminate the competition, I had grown to truly admire these folks and knew that I would miss them when we returned to the States.

We would find out within 24 hours which three teams would be invited back to the Island, but for now we just enjoyed one another’s company.

Mai …]]> So I was thinking Don’t Look Now, but my sis had Scooby Doo on her mind as we drifted through the eerie fog on Venice’s Grand Canal. We were headed towards San Zaccaria, where we would catch a boat for the last leg of our journey to San Servolo island.

Mai and I met up in Frankfurt – she from LA and I from Brooklyn – to fly together into Venice for the Biennale College Cinema, where we would develop and pitch our feature film A Case of the Dismals.  The fog thickened as we boarded the waterbus to the Island. Any thoughts of Nicholas Roeg and Shaggy dissolved in our minds as San Servolo emerged from the mist like a mirage.  My first thought? Welcome to Shutter Island.

San Servolo was known for hundreds of years as the “Island of the Mad” because it served as Venice’s official insane asylum, so naturally I felt a bit spooked on the approach.

San Servolo

Luckily things got decidedly less creepy after some prosecco and friendly conversation with our fellow filmmakers and the Biennale team.  Amongst the 14 other Director/Producer teams from Africa, South America, Europe and Asia, I met fellow Emerging Visions Director Tim Sutton, whose humor and warmth boded well for our stay. I was actually curious to see how the Biennale Program would compare to my experiences with Emerging Narratives and Emerging Visions last fall.  For sure, I figured there would be more of a competitive element since only three of the teams would move forward for the second lab, as well as the 150,000 Euro to finance their microbudget project.

On day one, all the teams and mentors gathered together for a round robin introduction, where we had the first opportunity to informally pitch our projects.  In hindsight, I can’t believe how far everybody came by the time we pitched to the folks at the Biennale ten days later.  Really blows my mind.

From there, Mai headed off to spend the next several mornings with her producing mentor combing through our budget while I re-worked the creative side of things both in a group setting with a mentor and one-on-one with a script consultant.  I loved how these sessions reinforced each other, with feedback from both mentor and consultant helping me to chisel out the essence of my story.  At one point as I was reworking a sequence of our film where adolescent girls become lost in a mountain forest, mentor and consultant echoed one another with a comparison to Picnic at Hanging Rock: atmospheric, haunting, a bit ominous and subtly sexual…

View from the Island

As week one drew to a close, the attitude among the filmmakers remained supportive and friendly, though many of us were sick and all of us feeling the stress of a deadline:  by the end of the week we were to submit a new and improved version of our story, budget and schedule.  Luckily, evenings gave us a chance to relax and wine/dine Italian style.  The Biennale treated us to lovely dinners in Venice proper.  Primi platti, secondi platti, and great conversation with a diverse crowd of cinephiles… a little bit of film geek heaven.   Too be continued….

There’s a lot of discussion in the independent film world right now about how filmmakers can earn a living in today’s economic climate, as well as how distributors and art house theaters can continue being profitable in the increasingly-digital landscape.

But, there’s a rarely …]]>

Video Rodeo, Gainesville, FL’s independent video store

There’s a lot of discussion in the independent film world right now about how filmmakers can earn a living in today’s economic climate, as well as how distributors and art house theaters can continue being profitable in the increasingly-digital landscape.

But, there’s a rarely discussed part of the film world that seems to already be the first casualty of the modern film-watching era: the video store.

For some towns, the video store can be more crucial than the movie theater. I know it was when I lived in Gainesville, FL. I worked at a local video store, which is still in business, called Video Rodeo. It’s owned by filmmaker and professor Roger Beebe. Roger runs the store like a collective: the employees are paid through profit-sharing, and decisions are made as a group, instead of by the sole voice of the owner. The store has a huge selection of foreign and art house films, and it exposed me to a ton of great films I didn’t know existed until then. Not only that, but he let me use it as a major location in my first film.

I interviewed Roger to talk about the state of the local video store, and it’s relationship with the independent film community. This blog post, if you can’t already tell, isn’t “totally sillypants” like my others have been. If you’re disappointed by that, just pretend the following interview is between these two people.

Here’s the interview:

ADAM: Why don’t you talk a little about yourself first? I know you’re a filmmaker and a professor, as well…

ROGER: Sure, yeah. I am those things. I teach film and media studies at the University of Florida in the English department. I’ve been (in Gainesville) since 2000. I’ve been making films since 1994 or ’95.

And they’re more experimental.

Yeah, exactly. And, for the last six years or so, I’ve been making mostly muli-projector films that I perform live. 16mm, some loop-based stuff, but some other stuff that’s just, you know, made for three, or six, or eight projectors.

That’s so cool. And, you also run FLEX Fest. 

I do, yeah. And so, that I started eight years ago, and we’re having the ninth festival in February. That’s dedicated to experimental short films, but we do year-round programming that’s more expansive than that. So, like, on Thursday night, we’re showing five 35mm reels from five different Disney films, and combining them into one kind of crazy, Frankenstein’s monster of a film.

Wow, that’s awesome. Where did you live before Gainesville?

I went to grad school at Duke, so I was in Durham, North Carolina for six years before that.

Okay, cool. Because, I remember seeing one of your films that you must have made when you first moved there, I assumed, because it didn’t seem like… You were kind of talking how you just moved to Gainesville, and you’re like, “There’s no tall buildings, it’s really weird.”

Oh yeah, that’s THE STRIP MALL TRILOGY. So, that was 2001, right after I moved here. But, it’s not like I moved here from some amazing city. It was more of, like, a conceit than a reality.

What do you think of Gainesville? Do you enjoy the city?

Yeah. I think, you know, it’s a good college town. It’s not Berlin, it’s not Chicago. There are places I would rather be. But, I don’t know. I’ve got my doors and windows open right now, and it’s seventy-five degrees outside. Life is pretty easy. I like it well enough here. And, you know, as long as you confine yourself to a certain part of town, you don’t have to face the disgusting reality of sprawl and strip malls and all that stuff.

VIDEO RODEO

Inside Video Rodeo

Let’s talk a little bit about the store. The background of it, how long it’s been around, why you started it, that sort of thing.

So, the transition from North Carolina to here is actually kind of appropriate in this discussion, because when I lived there, there was a video store called Visart.

It was just this model of a video store. It was this place where you’d go in, and they had everything, and stuff was arranged by the director. You know, it was just really thoughtful, and smart, and big. And, they actually had some of the dumb recent releases, too. I think that’s kind of how they sanctioned the rest of what they did. But, they were really a model for what I was thinking a video store should be like.

And, when I came here, there was just, you know, Blockbuster and Hollywood (Video). For the first few years, I was content just to use the facilities on campus. We had a media library for teaching, and then there’s the regular library. But, you know, they were no fun for browsing, and I found I was watching lots of stuff I didn’t really feel passionate about, but it was just the first thing you came upon. It was, “Okay, I’ll see that, sure.”

So, finally, I decided to quit complaining about there not being a good video store and just start one up. So, my friend Tim Massett in Jacksonville, who now runs Sun-Ray Cinema, he and I were going to start together. He had already done some market research, and was way smarter about it than I could have been at that point. I was going to bankroll it and he was going to put in this work to make it happen.

But, he ended up getting cold feet, I think, because he knew– he was right, that opening a video store in this day and age is not a way to line your retirement account. And, so he stayed on managing a theater in Jacksonville.

So, I ended up just doing it, not really entirely alone. I had a group of three really cool people at the start, who, you know, we went in there and did all the construction ourselves, we did the painting. You know, built the store from nothing. For about three or four months before then, I’d been collecting stuff, buying a bunch of used VHS to flesh out the collection. But, also, I had a targeted list where I was, like, “These are the– I can’t even remember– thousand movies I wouldn’t want to open the store without.” So, all those I just ordered myself, and fleshed out by getting used DVDs or super cheap VHS.

Again, we had so much space at first, we really needed titles to flesh out. It ended up being a curse because we were stuck with all these VHS tapes.

Films are organized by director

A COLLECTIVELY-RUN STORE

You were talking about the selection, which is kind of amazing. Is there, like, a specific standard or requirement you have for movies you carry? Because I know you also carry those, I’ll call them “not amazing movies.” Is it a personal thing? Or, is it really just, like, “Oh, people seem to want this one, so we’ll get it, because we have this back catalog.” 

So, I guess the first thing to say is that the decisions about acquisitions are still made largely collectively. It’s still run co-op style.

Yeah, it’s profit-sharing. 

But, also, each month… You remember this, right?

Yeah, totally.

Each month, I send out the list of possible titles. You know, all of the new releases or whatever. And we just weigh in. We used to do it face-to-face, now we mostly do it over email. So, anything that gets more than half of the staff voting for it, I’ll buy.

But, I’ll still look at thrift stores and pawn shops, and if I can get something that I know I’ll make a couple bucks and I only have to pay two or three, I’ll add it even if I having aesthetic objections to it. And, I think everyone is kind of guided by that, too, though. We’ve had this discussion really recently, actually, about like, “Oh, should we get this blockbuster because we think that’s what people want?” And, you know, when we look at the numbers, actually, our best-renting things are not blockbusters. As much as we try to sell-out and cater to what people want, it turns out that what people want is more, like, Wes Anderson, which is, again, a little less ambitious than some of the stuff we’d really love them to watch. But, I mean, it’s really cool that they want to watch Wes Anderson instead of, you know, Michael Bay.

Well, do you think that it’s partly because people who want to see a Michael Bay movie probably wouldn’t go to Video Rodeo? You what I mean? They wouldn’t go to a local art house video store. 

Sure. I mean, I think the landscape has changed a little bit since Blockbuster has gone away. You know, as bad as Blockbuster was, at least they had ten thousand movies. I do think for recent releases, a lot of people are just content to go the Redbox and just take whatever, to go rent WIN A DATE WITH TAD HAMILTON, or whatever.

Right. But, you guys outlasted Blockbuster. You’re the only video store in Gainesville now. 

I’ve never seen it with my own eyes, so I don’t necessarily believe it, but there’s technically another place called Go Video that exists inside of a gas station somewhere in northwest Gainesville. It’s not a thing of it’s own, it’s, like, shelves within a gas station. I actually called there once to see if they were real, and somebody answered the phone and said they were there, so…

But, still, you have that–

We outlasted the chains.

Yeah, you outlasted the chains. I remember when I was working there, I don’t know if you still have it, you had that bowl of Blockbuster cards. People would cut up their membership cards.

Yeah, we still have it. It’s actually overflowing. We stopped granting free rentals for people cutting up their Blockbuster cards, but we still like that testament to the damage we did to them.

(We laugh)

Totally. You got ‘em.

The bowl of cut-up Blockbuster membership cards that sits in the store

Now, we already mentioned that the employees work through profit-sharing, and you seem to have a very collective mindset. Why is that an important thing to you about running the business? 

Well, I never imagine it being “me being the boss-man,” and you know, writing checks… I just feel like a place like that doesn’t work if it’s just, like, minimum-wage slaves, just working there. And, I also felt like, to ensure the long-term viability of the store, it would have to have that flexibility to say, “Hey, this month was great. You guys made ten bucks an hour.” And, “Hey, this month really sucked. You guys made four bucks an hour.”

Yeah, I know that I personally cared so much more about the store, not just because of the profit-sharing thing, but because it made me feel like I wasn’t just working for this dude who would come in sometimes and didn’t care. So, it definitely helped me.

Well, that’s great. I mean, that’s always been my thinking about it. And, it seems to be the case. We all went in last month, and we had a really bad month. And, I broke the news to everybody, and they were like, “Alright. That’s fine.” You know, nobody works there as their primary job. We got, I think, seven people on staff right now, and I’m picking up shifts for free, so that boosts the overall wages, because my plan is that if I get any money out of the store, it’ll only be when the store finally shuts down. I put the money in to start it, but I just don’t take any out.

Has this sort of collective approach to it made operating the store harder, from a business standpoint?

I mean, if we had just, say, two people working there, instead of seven or eight, it’d be a lot easier to keep track of where things get fucked up. So, things like that, I think would be a little bit easier. But, I actually think having people only work there four and a half or nine hours a week, they come with a lot more energy to the store. So, maybe they’re a lot more inclined to do something cool while they’re there, like make a weird sign. And, I think having all these different people’s ideas represented is great, and I think the collection really benefits from… A couple months ago, we had a little extra money, and so I let everyone in the store take something from backfill to order. And, someone ordered 9 TO 5, which is a title I would have, you know, rolled my eyes at or whatever.

(We laugh)

But, you know, it’s been rented four or five times in the two months we’ve had it. I don’t know, I think it’s great to have that voice represented, and not have it be just, like, two people who are determining the vision of the– Because, again, if I did it, it would be all Criterion Collection or something. Like, the super nerd taste. And, you know, it’s like, this will serve certain people, but we want to serve more than just the hardcore film nerd. We kind of have to, to stay open.

A window display made by an employee

Do you guys ever have events? Like, you have birthday parties…

Oh, yeah. We started it as just kind of a one-off thing, and it was such a popular event that we realized we should do them regularly to kind of remind the community that we are here to sort of be part– you know, we’re friends with so many of them.

What are they like? I don’t think you were doing them when I was there.

Basically, it’s like, a keg party in the video store. We buy a keg and put it in the back of the store. People parade around, spill beers on everything, and hopefully, like, rent a movie or buy a t-shirt or something. We’ll always have some kind of sale, or, last time we did a drawing. We raffled off the soundtracks to HOLY MOUNTAIN and EL TOPO. So, we always have something special. This next one that’s coming up in 10 days is our eighth birthday. We’re also opening a book store inside of the video store.

Customers at Video Rodeo’s birthday keg party

Now, is that place in North Carolina still open?

No, they went out of business, I think, a year and a half ago, or something. I think they overextended themselves a little bit. They also had a newsstand, and they expanded. They opened a bunch of stores. I don’t know. I don’t know enough about their internal workings. They were actually great. Like, I put out a VHS tape of films from the film festival I was running in Chapel Hill (called Flicker), and I approached them about it, and they ended up buying, like, five copies of it. So, I mean, they were really supportive, and a really great local resource, and it’s really sad to see them go, still.

Yeah, that’s too bad…

VIDEO STORES AND THE INDIE FILM COMMUNITY

Now, okay, let’s get into some heavy stuff.

Uh-oh.

(We laugh)

Yeah, get ready. So, like, video stores… Actually, this isn’t really that heavy. But, something I wanted to talk about was that video stores aren’t something you really hear about in the independent film world. You know, there’s always talk about art house cinemas, and the struggles for them to stay open. And, there’s occasionally something about local video stores and stuff, but I feel like it’s kind of the unsung part of the indie film world. But, to me, the “Gainesville independent film community,” when I was living there, my vessel for all that, was Video Rodeo. I mean, you also had the Hippodrome (the art house theater in Gainesville), but the selection at Video Rodeo was so huge, and the price… you could get exposed to a lot of movies you otherwise wouldn’t see. Do you feel like a video store could play that role in towns that maybe don’t have a lot of options for art house films? 

Yeah, you know, I think that’s one of the things, again, that I lament about the move from Blockbuster to Redbox. Like, Blockbuster sucks, but in towns where you don’t have anything else… Blockbuster has ten thousand movies, there’s got to be some hidden Werner Herzog film in their collection, right? Like, you’ll never fucking find it. It’ll be buried in “drama,” that generic catch-all for anything you couldn’t fit anywhere else. But, at least there’s stuff there. I mean, I grew up in a town with just a Blockbuster, and I remember finding weird foreign stuff there. It wasn’t all curated, you know. They didn’t do anything systematic. It wasn’t like they were getting every good art film or whatever. But, with Redbox, you’re guaranteed not to find anything older than a couple years old. You’re guaranteed not to find anything too adventurous or too indie. And, even Netflix streaming is not much better, and I know that’s now what a lot of people are going to. And, all they watch is TV shows, and you know, that’s great for binge-watching. But, I just worry, that if you go in looking for a specific title… I’ve gone in to look for Godard, Truffaut, Herzog, whatever. It’s really depressing. They’ll have maybe one film of the fifty, sixty, whatever films these people have made.

And, it’s always, like, the minor work.

It won’t be BREATHLESS, or PIERROT LE FOU. It’ll be, like, NOTRE MUSIQUE. You know?

Yeah.

It’s sort of like staying at your friend’s house, and you’re stuck there during the day, and you look through the DVD collection, and it’s like, “Oh, there’s something I can watch.” But yeah, the less longwinded version of the answer is, you know, I definitely feel like a well-curated video store can really be the nucleus for a film scene, or a way for people to self-educate. It’s a great pedagogical resource. And, I think you can do that if you use Netflix disc delivery, which hopefully people in rural Kansas are still doing, and haven’t switched over exclusively. Because Redbox and Netflix streaming is a real impoverishment. It’s like, the future looks worse than the past.

Right, yeah.

It used to be… You know, for me, I lived in an era… Whatever, this is dinosaur talk.

(We laugh)

But, before everything was available on home video. We didn’t have a VCR until I was maybe ten, and then when we got it, how many titles were available? So, it seemed like we were moving in the direction of more and more is suddenly available. It was amazing. The whole history of cinema, and now you don’t have to wait for decades, or just read about these things. They’re no longer fabled. Suddenly, you can go down to the video store and rent a lot of these things. So, it seemed like it was moving in that direction. And, Netflix initially looked like that to, where it was like, “Holy shit. They’ve got 40,000 titles you can get.”

But now, again, because of the way they changed the pricing structure, and because they want to go to only online, and because the way the rights issues are working with that, and the dividing up of the digital marketplace with Hulu Plus, and Amazon Prime… Now it’s looking like less and less is available. That’s a real depressing trend.

Filmmaker Caveh Zahedi posing with his section in the store

VIDEO STORES AS PART OF THE LOCAL COMMUNITY

You talked about the video store being a nucleus for a film community, which I think is a cool idea, especially for smaller towns, like I mentioned. But, also, when I was living there, I always kind of felt like the store was one of the important parts of living in that neighborhood, and being connected to that neighborhood of Gainesville. Not even, like, film, but also just the people in the neighborhood. Do you get that feeling at all from people who frequent it? Do you feel like there’s support from those local people and stuff?

Yeah, I guess I feel that. You know, like, we’ve made ads talking about, you know, like, one of the reasons we hope we’re a vital institution, is that, you know, if you have a band, and you’re playing a show, and you want to put up a flier, you can put it up in our window. Or, if you have a tattoo parlor and you have business cards you want to put out, you can put that on our counter. You know, like, all that stuff, we really want to help cross-promote, and we want to be a place where they know that a certain kind of person will come in there and see their stuff. And, it’ll all feed each other. Yeah, I guess I feel like the neighborhood function– and again, as opposed to Netflix, where it’s like, you know… I don’t know where their headquarters is.

Right. It’s like in the North Pole or something.

Right. Probably.

Customers and employees hanging out at a special event

Is the store involved with other parts of the community? Like, do you do stuff at the Palomino (a pool hall in Gainesville) or anything?

Well, because of all my programming with FLEX, we technically brand any screening we do as FLEX as opposed to Video Rodeo. It’s always seemed like, in some ways, it would be better business for us if we branded it as “Video Rodeo presents”… You know, we use the Video Rodeo Facebook page, which is a lot more active than the FLEX Facebook page, for promoting those events.

Yeah, the Facebook page of Video Rodeo is pretty solid, I think. I think you guys are doing a really good job with that sort of stuff.

Well, we also frequently use the Facebook page to sort of sabotage our own business. To say, like, “Hey, here’s something awesome going on in town tonight that we have nothing to do with. Go do that instead of renting a movie.” So, like, right now HOLY MOTORS is showing at the Hippodrome, and we were really excited they took a risk on that.

Definitely. That’s cool.

We pushed it once. I’m getting ready for Thursday. I’m going to push it again, because that’s going to be the last night.

Do they return the favor?

They do. They actually run a slide for us in their slideshow before the screenings. You know, just a slide that says we exist, which, surprisingly… In a town this small, you’d think everyone would know, but it’s always shocking to find out how many who would be interested still don’t know.

Do you feel like that sort of sharing, local businesses supporting each other… Do you think that’s helped you guys?

I do. I think it could always be more. Whitney Mutch does a thing called Indie Gainesville, and she always promotes “buy local” and stuff like that. And, I think that’s as close as we get to a kind of central forum for local businesses where they’re supportive. But, I don’t quite know how to make it work where there’s even more synergy than there is now. I think there’s some, but I think there could always be more.

Well, do you think that–

I hate saying “synergy,” by the way.

(I laugh)

It’s business-speak or whatever.

Yeah, totally. You sound very professional.

Right?

The store holds fun little contests

VIDEO STORES ACROSS THE COUNTRY

Do you feel like it’s a better place for the store to be, in this smaller town, than it would be to be in a big city? Not in terms of where you’d prefer to live, but do you think the store serves a better purpose, or does better than it would if it was in a bigger city, or some other type of town?

I don’t know. I’d be interested to compare notes with stores… I don’t even know which ones are still open, but like, Le Video in San Francisco, or…

There’s no communication between other video stores, is there?

Not really. I’ve talked sort of informally, there’s a video store in Chicago that I used to go to. And, I talked a lot to the guy who owned that place about how the store worked, and how he made it work. I went out to Santa Monica to see my parents, and there’s a video store there, I’m forgetting their name now.

Vidiots? 

No, it’s the place where the guy created those Cinemetal t-shirts. The ones where it looks like Metallica but it says “Fassbinder” instead. Black Flag but it says “Bela Tarr.”

Oh, right. 

So, when I go into a place like that, I’ll mention, “Hey, I own a video store. I’m kind of curious about” you know… And, it’s always, you know, “Times are tough, we make it work, blah blah blah.” But, I think L.A. is probably a hard place to do it, just because everyone’s so dispersed. But, I think if you were in the right neighborhood in New York or Chicago or San Francisco… If you’re in the Castro, you probably have enough people within foot traffic distance to sustain you in the same way that we do in Gainesville. You might have more density, and a more stable base of people. So, I think each place comes with it’s own challenges, but I wouldn’t say we’re especially privileged here, to have this kind of situation.

Yeah, I bet it would be tough to figure out where it would thrive more.

Yeah.

The “staff picks” shelf, above selections from filmmakers who had just died

THE FUTURE 

Cool. If you could see a future for the store, where you didn’t have to worry about anything, what would you hope the store would be able to do? If it could become the thing that you would be, like, “Wow, that’d be awesome.” If you were about to do that.

I guess first, I think, there’s not an unlimited time horizon for this. You know, I don’t know how long people will have optical media players.

Oh, yeah.

There will be a day when it’s, like, “Oh, you still rent physical media? Because we just get everything streaming.” Whether it’s Netflix or whatever. But, I would love to buy a building, for the rent we pay to be flexible, like the staff salaries are, right now, flexible. And, where it would have more space, because we’ve got a bunch of sections that are… We try to put everything face-out, but stuff is starting to be spine-out a lot, in certain sections. So, it’d be nice to have more room for the store, but also, if the book store starts to work, I’d love to be able to expand what that is. And, have a screening space attached, too. I know Videology (in Brooklyn) just converted the back of their space into a small screening space. That would be wonderful, too, to have. I’ve fantasized about that for awhile.

Yeah.

That’s, you know, when the revolution comes, or when the rich benefactress comes to me to underwrite my future endeavors. That’s what we would do: buy a building and house all of those things, and make it a real destination, and have that kind of… again, I don’t want to say “synergy,” but…

(I laugh) You can say it. 

Like, really positive energy that feeds off of each other, or whatever.

What do you think the half-life of the store is, or of video stores in general?

I mean, I’m surprised we made it this far. We could have gone out of business the first year we were open. I had no idea, really, how it worked. But, I don’t know. I could imagine still doing this three years from now, five years from now. Beyond that, it’s really hard to imagine for me. I think when new computers are built, and they don’t have built-in DVD players, that would really be a tipping point. Mac has already decided they don’t want Blu-Ray. They’re not interested in ever having a Blu-Ray player in their computers. So, we’re really at the mercy of those corporations.

Yeah. Well, it sounds like a lot of cool stuff in Gainesville is kind of going away. So, hopefully, it’s a little while before it happens.

Yeah, well, if it doesn’t last forever, it doesn’t mean it didn’t do something good while it lasted.

Totally.

A customer browses DVDs

FINAL THOUGHTS

I had something, I thought, sort of smart to say, that you didn’t ask about.

Oh, okay. Please, go ahead.

You know, about indie film and the relationship between Video Rodeo and the indie film world… I think there is a way in which we’re still kind of a slave to the market. I would really love to stock a lot more films, like your film. Things that don’t have a giant theatrical release, that don’t have giant advertising budgets behind them, that cost almost nothing, that nobody’s really heard of. But, it’s proven sort of impossible. Like, when I said I have a certain disappointment about Wes Anderson being our bread and butter. It’s that disappointment, that, like… Oh, well these have TV commercials. You know, they’re indie films, but they’re underwritten by corporations.

So, there’s a way in which we’re filling a market niche that’s still very much a part of the market, and it would really be nice to be a store that was more committed to true independent filmmakers. And, I get emails from time-to-time from people who are like, “Hey, we just made this film. It played at these three festivals. We’d love for you to stock it. We’ll sell it to you for half what we normally charge for it.” It sort of breaks my heart, but I have to tell these people, “Look, ten bucks for this DVD that nobody’s ever heard of. It’s still probably more than we can afford.” If we were more flush with cash, I would do that in a second. If this were fifteen years ago, when video stores did really make money.

But, I don’t know. It’s a disappointment. I feel like this fantasy of true independence, of us being real outsiders and fighting the power and all that… I still feel like we’re beholden to those studio indies, and that kind of hipster marketing or whatever, in a way that I wish we could kind of transcend.

Yeah, that’s a hard thing to figure out how to break out of.

But, I guess that’s separate from the narrative of the video store’s continued survival, but it is about… again, our relationship to the indie film community.

Cool. Well, is there anything else you want to add?

No, I think that’s all I got the breath for now.

(I laugh) Well, thanks, Roger. 

—

Follow the links for more info about Roger, Video Rodeo, and FLEX.

I’m very fortunate to be friends with many accomplished independent film producers–people whose films have screened at the best festivals, won significant awards, gotten picked up by major distributors, earned healthy gross receipts, and …]]>

Summit of independent creative producers hosted by MoMA, Indiewire, and Zipline Entertainment in December 2009.

I’m very fortunate to be friends with many accomplished independent film producers–people whose films have screened at the best festivals, won significant awards, gotten picked up by major distributors, earned healthy gross receipts, and received accolades in the mainstream press.  We hang out sometimes, one-on-one or in groups, to catch each other up on our projects, share recent experiences, exchange opinions on companies and people we’ve worked with, etc.  But essentially, we get together for emotional support against an industry and an economy hostile to our work.  At any given time, half of us will have one foot out the door, ready to escape an occupation in which the appreciation and financial rewards we get have zero correlation with the insanely hard work we do and intense emotional stress we endure.

I was recently struck by three things I read that echoed some of these sentiments: Ted Hope’s forlorn blog post in which he catches up an old friend to where he is now, Brian Newman’s post about how YouTube stars are disrupting the old indie film model, and the Huffington Post article on Jay Van Hoy and Lars Knudsen.  I deduced a common theme running through all three: innovate or die.

Ted’s post lamented, “It is very frustrating watching what I love crumble away. I see many people with their fingers in the leaks, but few that want to build a new city higher up on the hill.” Brian said that filmmakers need to find innovative ways to connect to their audiences before the latter start to liken Sundance to the Metropolitan Opera, “a place you go to see a wonderful artform that you know you should respect, but that no one cares about anymore and which very few can afford to make or attend.” And the HuffPo article quoted Jay and Lars saying that too many indie producers “are too busy adapting when we should be innovating.” Film may be the new theater (or Metropolitan Opera), TV the new film, online streaming the new TV, but any way you frame it, the world of content creation, distribution, and consumption is changing–dramatically.

Independent producers are entrepreneurial by nature. Each feature film we undertake is a distinct startup, with rounds of financing to raise, a team to build, development and production phases, a launch (premiere), and an exit strategy (sale). We are, essentially, serial entrepreneurs, except–as a matter of survival–we have to run multiple businesses simultaneously, being in some combination of development, production, post, and distribution on different films, all at once. So why don’t we take our creativity, penchant for hard work, and entrepreneurial chutzpah, and put it all toward innovation?

Let’s figure out how to reconcile the artfully crafted 100-minute narrative with the public’s growing appetite for cheap and quick content.  Let’s make sense of the confusing array of social media and alternative distribution tools out there.  Let’s build on the examples set by folks like Louis C.K. and Ed Burns (except let’s try to remove the “be famous already” prerequisite to their success). Let’s see if we can’t operate outside Hollywood’s lottery system, outside its control, and sustain ourselves as “middle-class filmmakers” who continue to make films that speak to people.

If we don’t innovate the way we make and sell our movies, the independent film space will become further dominated by two groups: young first-time filmmakers who are willing and able to work for free (and who haven’t yet maxed out the favors they can call in), and filmmakers who are already rich and don’t need a paycheck or a return.  Writers, directors, and producers who come from economically disadvantaged backgrounds, those who are older, those from immigrant and minority groups, and those who are trying to make their second, third, fourth features (to which they could apply the expertise gained from making their previous ones) will leave the business–and the scope of stories being told will become severely limited.

Fellow producers, I know you’re busy. I know it’s hard to tread water in a vast sea of emails, calls, contracts, scripts, screeners, budgets, schedules, financing plans, accounting statements, tax filings. I know you’re juggling so many projects, you sometimes confuse the names of your protagonists. I know you wish you were doing a better job of absorbing the continuous stream of industry news. I know there are a ton of writers, directors, composers, actors, cinematographers knocking at your door, hoping to introduce you to their work and pick your brain (and I know you’d love to meet with many of them). I know you waste a lot of time talking to “potential financiers.” I know dealing with agents, managers, and lawyers exhausts you. I know it’s maddening to hustle for paid short-term gigs in the midst of prepping, posting, or delivering your feature, or traveling to festivals and markets. I know you never get enough sleep or have enough time with your loved ones.

But, my dear producer pals, the next time we meet up to kvetch about work and life, let’s put our  heads together and figure out how to sustain not only ourselves, but ultimately, the art that we love so dearly, and the diversity of artistic voices that make it. There is a better way, and we’ve got to find it soon.

I’ve been in theatrical distribution for 5 years (a short time by some standards), and have already seen the playing field shift dramatically.  5 years ago, I interned at a reputable distribution company that no longer exists. 3 years ago, I placed trailers in art house theaters that …]]> By Sara Kiener

I’ve been in theatrical distribution for 5 years (a short time by some standards), and have already seen the playing field shift dramatically.  5 years ago, I interned at a reputable distribution company that no longer exists. 3 years ago, I placed trailers in art house theaters that have since changed owners multiple times or…no longer exist. Throughout, I worked on great films that wouldn’t find their way to a theater today and I worked on campaigns that were banking on ad buys and (fingers crossed) strong reviews. Those days are over, for the most part. And I’ve joined the band of noisemakers encouraging filmmakers to consider alternative means of marketing and exhibition.

But my heart still belongs to the independent theaters, so I’m a bit torn.

That’s why I was so thrilled when I first read about Tugg in indieWIRE. Their mission couldn’t be more straightforward: “Tugg brings the movies you want, to your local theater,” yet its’ approach is up to speed with cutting edge social media tactics (crowdsourcing and crowdfunding are at the heart of their model).  Here’s how it works in a nutshell: a promoter or a hardcore fan can create an event at a theater, pick a date and time, and then they have to pre-sell a set number of tickets in order to lock-in the event. Everyone gets a percentage of the ticket sales (the filmmaker, the theater, Tugg and even the promoter!) so it’s win win. As an outreach gal, I was particularly interested in how this new model could lend itself to documentaries and niche issue narratives. So I put it to the test, and helped set up an event for Julie Wyman’s new film STRONG! about U.S. Olympian Cheryl Hayworth. I am thrilled with the results and can assure you that there are more screenings in the pipelines.

STRONG! Directed by Julie Wyman

So should you be thinking about TUGG? Does it make sense for your film? Here are some questions you should ask yourself before pulling the trigger:

*Does your film have a regional audience that is locatable and reachable?

*Do you feel confident that you and your team can locate regional partners and engage them?

*Do you have partners on board who want to help you spread the word but can’t support you financially (i.e., help pay for traditional theatrical distribution and/or pay rental fees)?

*Do you have your theatrical rights?

*Is your film being distributed in NYC and LA?  Do you know what to do with it regionally after that?

*Do you believe there’s a home and an audience for your film outside of or in addition to the classroom and the community center setting?

If the answer to most of the questions above is yes, then you should probably start looking into Tugg! Some other films are already hip to the approach and doing rather well. Here are a few examples:

#ReGENERATION
This documentary about the Occupy Wall Street movement (narrated by Ryan Gosling) had 10 screenings across the country over the course of one evening, promoted by the filmmakers themselves and people who had read a Huffington Post article about the film and wanted to get involved.  The screenings featured Q&As with the filmmakers as well as members of local communities including professors and figures of the Occupy movement.

ONE DAY ON EARTH
On Earth Day this documentary was shown throughout the US via Tugg.  It was filmed in every country across the globe over the course of one day — a crowd-sourced film utilized a crowd-source platform (Tugg) to play in theaters in 11 cities, selling over 1800 tickets without spending $1 on traditional marketing.

INCENDIARY
The filmmakers of this critically-acclaimed documentary about the death penalty have utilized Tugg to arrange screenings in partnership with death penalty orgs across the country.  To date, Tugg has provided theatrical showings of INCENDIARY in more than double the amount of markets it reached during its traditional theatrical run.

ECTASY OF ORDER: THE TETRIS MASTERS
There was a sold out show in Austin for a documentary called ECSTASY OF ORDER: THE TETRIS MASTERS about Tetris World Champions. The promoter, who saw the film at a festival and had to share it with his friends and community, arranged a unique screening through Tugg with an in-theater Tetris competition on the big screen following the film.  He has a great recap on the event here.

And this is just the beginning, IMHO. I’m really excited to see what other filmmakers and distributors do with this platform. If enough clever filmmakers and promoters dabble with Tugg, we may be looking at the next phase of theatrical distribution…one ticket at a time.

Not every director is suited for low-budget indie filmmaking, and that’s OK if you’re Terrence Malick or David Fincher. But chances are, you’re not…or not yet, anyway. I get a fair number of calls from biggish directors and producers who are having trouble raising money for their …]]>

Video Village, Indie-Style

Not every director is suited for low-budget indie filmmaking, and that’s OK if you’re Terrence Malick or David Fincher. But chances are, you’re not…or not yet, anyway. I get a fair number of calls from biggish directors and producers who are having trouble raising money for their films and want to explore how to make them on the super-cheap. I’ve entertained some of these requests, collecting funny anecdotes along the way, like the director who wanted to fly in stars from another country and rent large trailers for them, but forego unions and production insurance. Or the producer who wanted to cast an actor whose agent demanded $12,000 worth of perks, when our entire costume budget was just $4,000. As much as I want to work with these namey folks, I usually end up politely declining because I know that it will be difficult for them (and for me, especially) to make a movie on a fraction of the budgets to which they’re accustomed.

I’ve now worked with twenty different directors on mostly low-budget indie projects–some of whom I’d like to work with again and again; others, never again. By now, I can tell when a director is lying, even if he or she doesn’t realize it–”it’ll be 70% handheld,” “we can just run and gun it with a skeleton crew,” “all I need is an extra half day for second unit stuff.” Yeah, right. Most of the director foibles I’ve dealt with are due to inexperience and will likely resolve themselves with time. But sometimes, I wonder if some people just weren’t meant to direct–at least not low-budget indies.

So what are the traits that I think make a director “indie-friendly” (and more generally, “producer-friendly”)? Besides the usual traits that all directors should have–passion, confidence, focus, a high E.Q., a collaborative spirit, a sense of humor, the ability to command respect, an openness to feedback balanced with decisiveness–here are the traits that are especially important when working with limited resources:

1. Fast Writer

I’ve worked mostly with writer-directors, which offers an efficiency that’s often missing when the writer and director are different people. So much rewriting is done not just during development and prep, but also during production. Some of my directors have had to rewrite whole scenes minutes before shooting them. There is probably a lot more production-directed rewriting in the indie world since we are constantly trying to figure out how to stretch a budget. Development periods are also a lot shorter for us because they have to be–typically, no one gets paid during development; we only get paid if we’re in production. As such, it’s nice to work with speedy writers who can discuss, digest, and incorporate notes quickly to produce a shoppable draft.

2. Adaptive

Anything can happen in filmmaking, especially if you have limited resources–extras stand you up, location owners change their minds at the last minute, the G&E truck takes a wrong turn and shows up 2 hours late. So it’s critical for a director to be able to adapt to these exigent circumstances and figure out how to make lemonade from lemons. I’ve worked with directors who refused to shoot because a featured extra didn’t show up. Even after I’d come up with workable solutions, the directors still resisted, insisting that the entire film would be ruined without this extra. Really? You have a set, a camera, equipment, and a cast and crew of 50 at your fingertips, and you’re just going to cross your arms and pout? You’re a creative person…create something! If it ends up sucking, then reshoot it. But for now, use what’s right in front of you and try to make something. (By the way, I’ve never had to reshoot any scene that called for an unexpected last-minute fix like this.) Being adaptive and thinking on your feet also helps when there are happy accidents. Filmmaking is organic and unpredictable, and when the right mix of elements strikes on set, a good director will know how to capitalize on it.

3. Editing Experience

It is so valuable for a director to have editing experience because she or he will know on set what’s important and what’s not, what can be sacrificed and what can’t. Indie films are scheduled so tightly that it’s often very tough to make the day. All of my feature productions have been between 19 and 24 days, shooting between 4-7 pages and 15-35 setups per day. Sometimes, shots and even scenes have to be cut on the day of shooting. A director who also edits will have a much better sense of which shots are expendable, and how to make up for losing them.

4. Ability to Visualize

This seems obvious, doesn’t it? But you’d be surprised how many directors can’t do this. Many indie directors I’ve encountered come from writing or theater backgrounds–they can write great dialogue and work well with actors, but they have no idea how to compose a frame. Yes, this is what cinematographers are for, but it’s much more efficient when a director can actually visualize what shots will look like before crew and cast go through the trouble of setting them up.

5. Doesn’t Sweat the Small Stuff

This is probably the most controversial trait on the list. Artists are, by their nature, perfectionists–and they should be!  However, the reality is that perfection is tough to achieve on a small budget. Of course, we should always work very hard to achieve it, but the obsession over minor details–like the way a curtain drapes over a windowsill in the background–should not compromise more important things like the actors’ performances or the entire shooting schedule. Except, of course, if you’re making an art film in which the position of curtains is paramount. But if you’re making a traditional narrative film where the writing, acting, and storytelling are the main events, then those are the things you should focus on. A production’s budget and schedule are a zero-sum game. It’s rare to get everything you want; it’s usually very give-and-take. So it’s important for directors to choose their battles wisely.

6. Highly Prepared

One of my favorite first assistant directors, Nicolas D. Harvard, has a great motto: “Fix it in prep.” Indie films benefit immensely from directors who are incredibly diligent about doing research, shot lists, storyboards, and the like during prep. Some directors I’ve worked with have refused to do shot lists because they don’t want to be “locked in” to doing those particular shots on the day of shooting. This is silly because a good producer and crew understands the importance of being flexible on set and allowing for the organic nature of filmmaking to take its course, and would not pressure a director to stick strictly to his or her shot list. On the contrary, a shot list is what allows a director the freedom to improvise on the shoot day. Going into production without a shooting plan is very dangerous because it could easily throw the entire schedule (and consequently, the budget) off the rails.

7. Solid Work Ethic & High Stamina

Making a movie is hands down the hardest work I’ve ever done. That’s why I’m so picky with my projects. I cannot imagine working so hard on something I don’t care about. So when I take on a project, I expect to work very hard on it, and I expect no less of my director. Once, during late-stage prep on a film, the director kept checking into bars and restaurants on Foursquare, and tweeting about how much fun he was having hanging out with his friends. I did not like this one bit. If I and your crew are working our asses off on your film, then you should be too. Indie directors must have a very solid work ethic, and a high stamina for long hours spent doing what will likely be the most intellectually, physically, and emotionally challenging work they’ve ever done.

8. Vast Knowledge of Film

It’s important for all directors to know the language of cinema. By knowing what’s been done before and what certain shots have traditionally communicated, a director doesn’t have to reinvent the wheel. He or she can then more easily pay homage to, do variations on, or reject conventions. Being able to refer to certain films, scenes, or shots also makes it much easier and quicker for a director to articulate his vision to the crew and cast.

9. Articulate

In all productions, but especially indie ones, a director often has to defend the creative decisions that conflict with budget or schedule limitations. As such, a director should be able to clearly articulate why he needs 5 picture cars instead of 2, or 21 shoot days instead of 20, or a Steadicam instead of doing it handheld. A good producer will listen and OK the expenditures if the director provides a strong rationale for them. Of course, it’s also beneficial when directors can clearly and efficiently communicate what they want to their actors and crew, and woo financiers with a pitch. Directors should practice untangling the creative jumble in their heads to form coherent thoughts and actionable requests (that, or find a producer who can translate for them).

10. Publicity-Friendly

Being articulate also helps when a director is promoting a film. Communicating your vision to the media and the public can be a difficult thing to do, especially if you can’t afford fancy publicists to guide you. Some directors I’ve worked with are great at making movies, but can’t write loglines or synopses, pitch their own films, or conduct coherent Q&As, so I’ll have to pinch hit. But it’s really nice when they can do these things, because no one cares about the producer! Distributors also expect directors to play an active role in film promotion, especially now that the landscape is so difficult, and so much rides on the cult of personality. Bonus points for the director who is active in social media. There is no substitute for authenticity, and when a director can tweet in his or her own voice, it generates a lot more interest and engagement.

11. Technically Adept

Knowing how to use Twitter and Facebook is part and parcel of the overall technical aptitude that’s important for an indie director to have. Indie directors and producers often have to be jacks of all trades–more so than ever now that so much of marketing and distribution falls on our shoulders. When you can’t pay your Web designer, graphic artist, or assistant editor enough to be on call (or when you can’t afford these folks in the first place), you should be prepared to do the job yourself. So if you have some spare time, learn how to use video editing, photo editing, illustration, and web design programs, and of course, social media tools. You should also try to stay abreast of the latest camera and post-production technologies because in indie land, post supervision often falls to you and your producer.

12. Appreciative

Directors can be spoiled, bratty, entitled people. There is no place for that in the low-budget world, where everyone is working very long hours at very reduced rates. Directors who consistently show appreciation and respect for their cast and crew effectively motivate them, and that motivation is necessary fuel for low-budget productions. The director–not the producers or the actors–is the one who ultimately sets the tone of the production. If he or she is an unappreciative jerk, then everyone is miserable and left to wonder what all the suffering is for. An appreciative director also shares the limelight, and gives credit where it is due. And if/when Hollywood comes a-callin’, an appreciative director will remember the “little people” and “give back” by continuing to work with those who believed in his or her vision before anyone else did.

So there you have it! If you don’t possess most of these traits, please don’t call me–unless you are David Fincher or Terrence Malick. Actually…no, never mind, not even then. I will just enjoy your brilliant films from afar.

For the filmmakers who attended the IFP/Film Presence/DCTV panel on …]]> What’s the best way to ensure a successful a Kickstarter campaign? How do I self-distribute, or digitally distribute my film well? What should I post on my Facebook page as opposed to my Twitter feed? What if I’m not on Twitter?

For the filmmakers who attended the IFP/Film Presence/DCTV panel on social media for filmmakers on April 26, 2012 in New York City, the above questions could all be summed up with one answer that was emphasized and then re-emphasized by every member of the panel discussion: Engage your audience.

Seems simple enough, yet many people — filmmakers or not — fail to see that simply posting content relevant to your project or career will not necessarily engage an audience and get them interested. Just throwing a trailer up somewhere will not ensure that many people will watch it, especially when you are competing with a wealth of viral videos and blog posts that are crowding everyone’s Twitter and Facebook feeds.

So now that filmmakers have a focus, how should they go about achieving that engagement? There were a variety of tips and tricks coming from the panel, which featured Elisabeth Holm of Kickstarter, filmmaker Gary Hustwit (Helvetica, Objectified),  Julie La’Bassiere of the Cinetic digital sales arm FilmBuff, Mike Knowlton of the interactive studio Murmur (Him, Her and Them) and the storytelling non-profit StoryCode. Film marketer Sara Kiener (Film Presence) moderated.

Here are six golden rules, culled from the panel:

1) Be a person

First and foremost. No one wants to connect with at spam bot, or with something that seems like a shameless self-promotion. Whether its on your Kickstarter page, in your tweets or on your Facebook, write in your voice and make the audience feel like they are experience a human connection. As Elisabeth Holm put it, “We are all on the Internet starving for human connection.” No one wants to back a project or engage in a conversation with a film seemingly being made by a robot without heart. Gary Hustwit and Julie La’Bassier even took this one step further in suggesting that filmmakers should not create Twitter handles for a specific film. The majority of people on Twitter follow individual people over projects anyways. So, create a Twitter handle for yourself and use hashtags to refer to individual films. This will help build an audience in one digital space which you can tap into for future films, helping the sustainability of your Twitter presence and influence.

2) Join the conversation

Documentary filmmakers are in a unique space in the digital realm in that the subjects and issues they deal with typically already have a strong community and dialogue online. Tap into those conversations, not by simply saying, “Watch my doc!” but by posting your interests and viewpoints, maybe giving some anecdotes. Engage and stay on top of the conversation because others will take notice and see that something is happening. The people you attract through this type of interaction are going to be more motivated to see your film because they feel like they know you and will be interested to see what you have to say at the end of your project.

3) Try transmedia

If you think it is suited to your project, tap into transmedia strategies and the possibility of expanding your stories over multiple platforms. Mike Knowlton provided an example of an initiative from the narrative film The Sound of My Voice, where the filmmakers released the first 12 minutes of the film with embedded buttons and social media links within the viewer window before the premiere. These links jumped off to other content on YouTube, essays, photos and more, which built excitement around the project and expanding the film’s presence online through sharing on social networks.

4)Fish where the fish are

On the subject of distribution, La’Bassier said she’s worked with too many filmmakers who want their film to be on every platform and everywhere. If you are making a film about young hip-hop artists who struggle to make it during the trials and tribulations of coming of age, why waste money marketing it on Amazon, where the demographic might be mismatched? Once you’ve garnered interest in your film by “fishing where the fish are,” you can you expand your audience on universal platforms.

5) Don’t sell something people can’t buy

Your Twitter feed should never look like this: “3 weeks till our film is on iTunes!,” “In 3 weeks you will be able to get our film on iTunes,” “Excited for our film?,” “Another week down, you will have it soon.” In other words, don’t talk at your audience. Instead give them something to do. Maybe post related content online, whether created by you or not, so that they become interested in your Twitter handle and then will be prompted to download your film once it is out. Audiences want to be prompted with an action, not with a wait.

6) Ask your audience

Filmmaker Gary Hustwit explained that many times he has tweeted or posted asking people “Hey Portland, what’s the best indie theater by you?” or “Should we have a screening at this theater, or is there some place cooler?” which then sparks dialogue about your film screening and builds an engaged audience that will be ready to go when you finally announce your screening. Also, filmmakers can ask for suggestions on where to find shooting locations, if anything related to your topic is happening in their community, and even if crew members are available if you need them. You audience will now feel like they have something invested in the success of your film and will in turn evangelize your film through their own social media outlets.

In the end, it all comes down to making your audience feel like they mean something to you, and they should. They are the ones who you are counting on for the success of your film, so show them a little love!

This post was originally published on the POV blog (pbs.org/pov/blog).

From the 2011 Independent Filmmaker Conference.

From the 2011 Independent Filmmaker Conference.

From the 2011 Independent Filmmaker Conference.

Let me start by saying everything is NOT a TV Show.  Some things just are what they are, and should not be televised.

A Pitch is much more than just an idea you have.  The idea may be the starting point but the pitch is much, much more.  And the pitch …]]>

Let me start by saying everything is NOT a TV Show.  Some things just are what they are, and should not be televised.

A Pitch is much more than just an idea you have.  The idea may be the starting point but the pitch is much, much more.  And the pitch is a different animal than the actual script.  And the script is different than the pilot.  And the pilot is different than the series.

The Pitch I’m talking about today is based on personal experience as opposed to an adaptation.  They are very similar except one you were inspired to create the other you found interesting enough to want to create a pitch.  I will never understand the difference between hi and low concept and premise and non-premise pilots.  Here’s what’s worked for me.  And I have sold 98% of my pilot ideas.

1. Inspiration

Executives love to hear how your idea affects you personally.  Perhaps you were shocked at the billion dollar shoplifting industry the number of cesarean sections each year.  Or maybe you’ve had a very unique personal experience.   Or a character that you really admire or a story that you feel really needs to be told — The first time you fell in love.  Innocently catching your parents sharing private moment together.  Getting fired from a job you loved.  Things that are universal

2. The World

This is very important.  If the person you are pitching to doesn’t understand the world or if it’s a world we’ve seen too often you will be in trouble.   In addition to the popular mash-up of two ideas — Godfather meets Laverne & Shirley.  You want to describe the feel or tone of the world.   Does it feel like a place Cheers that is so comfortable and everyone wants to be your friend:  Or a sterile, cold, corporate culture where no one really gets to know each other.  Can’t trust each other.  Yet need each other.

What are the universal elements?  Everyone has trust issues?  We are a nation run by fear?  Does the media tries to control us through fear?

3. Characters

In a half hour they usually want one character with a very strong point of view. Surrounded by funny, supporting characters — Unless it’s an absolute ensemble.  Then you can tell stories about all of them.   In dramas unless it’s about a particular, unique crime solver, it’s usually an ensemble of some kind like Grey’s Anatomy, or ER or Brother’s and Sisters.

Also, what are the characters relationships to each other?  In half-hour; the execs are obsessed with the character’s knowing each other and how do they know each other?   It’s easiest to make some related in a family way:  brothers, aunts, cousins or best friends from child hood.  In drama’s they usually meet on the job or Med school or the Academy.

4. Pilot story

Broad strokes –and only if they ask for it. And/or other broad stroke story ideas if you have them.

I also like to add multi-platform ideas now that those are such a part of the current television experience.  For example: if you’re pitching a show where someone is a temperamental Chef – maybe one of the web ideas is to have the Chef character giving recipes on the Show’s web site.

From the 2011 Independent Filmmaker Conference.

From the 2011 Independent Filmmaker Conference.

From the 2011 Independent Filmmaker Conference.

From the 2011 Independent Filmmaker Conference.

If you made a film that’s on the US festival circuit this year, chances are that over the next two months, you’ll be headed to one of these …]]> (A Primer For Your Festival Tour, In Three Parts.)

Tribeca, Florida, Nashville, Atlanta, Sarasota, IFFBoston, Maryland, River Run, Ashland, HotDocs, BamCinemaFest, etc etc etc…

If you made a film that’s on the US festival circuit this year, chances are that over the next two months, you’ll be headed to one of these fests. Whether or not you are getting ready for a big premiere or just packing your bags for the next stop on your tour, be sure to make the most out of this festival run—after all, your film will only hit the circuit once. The direct marketing and outreach that you are doing during your tour is the key to your word of mouth publicity, and the relationships that you make while on the circuit can be instrumental in the reach of your current film, as well as lead to future opportunities.

There are times that I am so busy before I leave for a festival that I don’t start thinking about my plans until I get on a plane. While I certainly don’t recommend this strategy for festival preparation, I know that we all find ourselves in this situation once or twice. Even if you wait until the last minute to prepare, you can still accomplish most of the suggestions below. So as you pack your bags, bookmark this list. Even if you’ve traveled the circuit before, it may refresh your memory about what to expect and how to prepare.

Part I: Who is coming to see your movie in …..* ?

(*insert name of town that you have never visited)

A festival’s best efforts sometimes can’t compete with how you as a filmmaker can sell your own movie to the public. Even if you have a publicist, you still need to think about what you are doing to raise the profile of your film in the town that you are visiting.

What you can do:

1. Get the lay of the land. If you haven’t already, talk to the festival programmers or staff and find out about who attends the festival you are headed to. Is it students, professionals, grandmothers? Is your film going to be an “easy sell” on their regular filmgoers, or are they going to have to do a lot of legwork to get the right audience in the door? Find this out now so you can strategize.

2. Materials. Posters sell tickets. Postcards with your screening times also sell tickets. Make sure the festival has a poster and that you bring additional postcards with you to hand out and leave in local establishments. The reason that materials are so ubiquitous is that when used properly, they are actually effective.

3. Find out who does publicity for the festival and reach out to them, or stop by the festival’s press office when you arrive. The festival’s publicists can give you leads on which local publications, websites and radio stations might take the most interest in your film. If they haven’t specifically pitched anything on your film, you can always reach out to those outlets directly. Remember that a festival’s publicists are in charge of handling publicity for the entire festival, so be respectful of their time.

4. Outreach. If you know that your film is potentially a difficult sell, outreach can be more important than press mentions in terms of getting audiences in the door. Do a little research about what groups exist locally that you think would want to see your movie. Seek the festival’s help with this—in other words, ask questions like this: does the town have a comic book store? A poetry group? An active MoveOn.org meet up? Call and see if there is someone you can talk to personally at local organizations or businesses, see if you can drop off postcards. This research is best done before you arrive, but you can always do outreach on the ground. Don’t be afraid to talk to people when you arrive. If the festival is giving you a handful of tickets to your film, you can offer these around town. This can be one of the best ways to get people into the theater that will be most excited to be there. Think about it: aren’t you more inclined to show up at a movie when you are friendly with the director?

Part II: Get The Most Out of Your Trip

If you are spending your time, money and energy on supporting your film in a new locale, make sure you make your trip worth your while. A little preparation can go a long way. Consider the following:

1. Bring Screeners. Consider having some screeners on hand for press and industry that you want to see your film. They might have obligations that prevent them from attending your screening.

2. Plan your trip around key festival events in addition to your screenings. Make sure you don’t miss out on the most interesting opportunities that you have as a festival filmmaker. If the festival doesn’t communicate festival highlights to you, ask some questions. Is the festival known for a key event that is not-to-miss? Are there specific events when you would have the best opportunities to mix and mingle with other filmmakers and industry attendees?

3. Read the festival’s welcome letter. I’m a festival programmer. I know that most filmmakers don’t read my emails once their film is confirmed. I spend a lot of time answering questions that are clearly answered in materials that we send out with each film invitation. While I understand it is easy to ignore our emails since you are planning to “figure it all out when you get here,” you will be better off if you review everything that we have sent you about attending. That way you won’t miss out on important things like redeeming your advance tickets to the films you want to see, and finding out where all the free Stella Artois is located.

Part III:  Beginners Only

Is this your first time on the festival circuit? Read on.  

1.   Plan to see movies.  Don’t spend all your time stressing about your own screenings or drinking the free Stella.  Go see other people’s movies, as many as you have time to see.  Films and filmmakers are the heart of any festival and if you are not in the theater, you’ll be missing out on the conversation.

2.    Go out.  Put your (polite and friendly) game face on. Even if you don’t consider yourself a joiner, meeting new and interesting people is one of the best parts of a festival tour.  Don’t think about the festival as a schmooze fest. Just be yourself and come prepared to socialize. You’ll have a better time.