Benh Zeitlin’s fantastic allegory “Beasts of the Southern Wild” started as a play, was grounded in a short film, cast with non-actors, filmed on the bayou, and was produced by a bunch of friends from college and before. It premiered at Sundance, won the Grand Jury Prize and got picked …]]>

Benh Zeitlin’s fantastic allegory “Beasts of the Southern Wild” started as a play, was grounded in a short film, cast with non-actors, filmed on the bayou, and was produced by a bunch of friends from college and before. It premiered at Sundance, won the Grand Jury Prize and got picked up by Fox Searchlight, then premiered at Cannes and won the coveted Camera d`Or for a director’s first feature.

On January 10, 2013, the film was nominated for four Oscars, in the categories of Best Picture, Best Director (Benh Zeitlin), Lead Actress (Quvenzhané Wallis), and Adapted Screenplay (Lucy Alibar & Benh Zeitlin). Hear from the team behind this year’s hottest independent break out about their inspiration, their collaboration, and creative drive.

I have had the good fortune to be involved in IFP’s Independent Filmmaker Labs for the past several years now and I have seen innumerable benefits to the films and filmmakers who participate.  The Labs provide an opportunity for first-time filmmakers to not only …]]>

Jon Reiss at the 2012 IFP Narrative Lab

I have had the good fortune to be involved in IFP’s Independent Filmmaker Labs for the past several years now and I have seen innumerable benefits to the films and filmmakers who participate.  The Labs provide an opportunity for first-time filmmakers to not only receive feedback on their films from their peers and experienced filmmakers but it is the first lab to prepare filmmakers for the essential work of distribution and marketing.

This year we launched the IFP PMD LAB (Producer of Marketing and Distribution) the first of its kind.  This year, the PMD Lab worked in conjunction with the Filmmaker Labs, with all the participating PMDs attached to a film in the Filmmaker Labs.

Since the end of the year if full of 10 best lists – I thought I would compile the 10 best results of the inaugural year of the PMD Lab.

1.  Defining What A PMD Is. I think this is of critical importance as this nascent crew position develops.   A PMD is not just a social media manager.  To be a PMD a person must be involved in all aspects of a film’s distribution and marketing, including audience identification and engagement, creating a distribution and marketing plan, budgeting that plan, creating marketing elements, creating and managing other assets to help promote the film, etc. All of this in concert with the filmmakers.   � See this post for more.  I think the PMD trainees were amazed and excited about the scope of this position.

2.  Learning how to identify audience.  After understanding the goals of the team, the first assignment for the trainees was to identify the audience for their film.  Many of the films had already started this process in the spring Filmmaker Labs sessions.  But rarely do first-time filmmakers fully understand their audiences in the first go round.  It also takes time for the notion of niche vs. core audience to sink in – and how to view how audiences can expand from a core.

3.  Learning how to engage that audience.    This is a career-long process and can be daunting at first.   It is important again that it is not just about social media – we stress that it is crucial to know how each particular audience learns about films and then to target that source - influencers, social media, organizations, traditional media – whatever works.

4.  Develop marketing tools for the film (after understanding who the audience is).   We have the PMD trainees (and in fact all Lab films) create initial marketing materials most of which are essentials for a press kit: logline,� one line synopsis, short synopsis, key art, website and, if possible and appropriate, trailer and social media sites.

5.  Workshop those marketing tools.   One my favorite parts of the Filmmaker Labs and PMD Labs are the Marketing Labs held right before IFPs Independent Film Week.  Each team presents the marketing plan for the film and it is workshopped with a panel of professionals.  Some heated discussions result.  The process either helps crystallize the beginnings of a plan for the team – or makes them realize they have a ways to go.  Either way I find that they are so much further along than most filmmakers by starting this process in post.

6.  Writing a distribution and marketing plan for their films.  The last assignment for the PMDs was to write a distribution and marketing plan for their films.  I am a broken record on this: every film is different and needs a unique plan.  It is essential that PMDs learn not only how to write these plans – but to understand all of the aspects contained within.  It is hard to teach this in a crash course (which we had in September and December).  But what I found most instructive was:

7.  Evaluating different distribution options.   In the December Distribution Labs, we had the opportunity to see each of the 20 filmmaking teams present their distribution plan, and to have that discussed by incredible experts in emerging distribution models. It became very apparent what types of distribution options are available to filmmakers and how those can be crafted for each individual film.

8. Learning how to budget that plan.   In order to execute a plan you have to figure out how much money you need to execute the plan.   Going through an extensive distribution and marketing budget can be daunting – but it is also important to know what you need to pay for in order to achieve that film’s goals.

9.  Creating a community of PMDs.  The trainees told me that one of the best outcomes of the PMD Lab was the community that they created amongst themselves.  While we had monthly phone sessions and 2 separate Lab meetings, the trainees would contact each other on a regular basis, which has continued even after the Lab’s completion.  They are even supporting other films from the Labs that did not have PMD trainees.   Several of the trainees have been so excited by the concept that they will be participating in the PMD website that we intend to put on the IFP site next year and to determine a way that PMDs around the world can find community (stay tuned!).

10.  Learning how to develop a career as a PMD.  This was a strong interest for the trainees – naturally.  What I stressed is that the PMD is just like any other film position.  You have to start small to build your way up – finding any way to gain experience.  Little by little filmmakers are realizing that they need to budget for this crew position.   One of the goals of the above mentioned site is to provide a centralized place that filmmakers can find PMDs for their projects.

If you think you can be a PMD please feel free to contact me so that I can keep you abreast of these developments.

Jon Reiss is a filmmaker, author and strategist who wrote the book� Think Outside the Box Office and is the Director of the IPF PMD Lab.� Follow� � Like

November 18, 6:40 am. At …]]> This year, my feature script INCOGNITO was an IFP partnership project at the Film Bazaar in Goa, India. INCOGNITO is the story of a seventeen-year-old girl who teams up with her father to help the Pakistani Prime Minister—on a secret pilgrimage to India—dodge an assassination attempt.

November 18, 6:40 am. At the Dabolim airport in Goa,a Film Bazaar driver greeted me. He began driving me and a Mumbai Film Fest programmer to the Grand Hyatt. For a second, I thought he was driving the car on the wrong side of the road. Then I realized I was in India! Experiencing the flow of traffic was as exciting as being inside a video game, and, eventually, the Mumbai Fest programmer requested our driver to slow down.

The Grand Hyatt, spread out over 28 acres, looks as though it’s been around forever. The concierge, who walked me to my guesthouse, told me, however, that the hotel was built a year-and-a-half ago and mimics a Portuguese architectural style (Goa is a former Portuguese colony). There is an ancient church on the property. I could hear the sounds of tropical birds from my hotel room.

Every day, the filmmakers at the Grand Hyatt took a half-hour shuttle to the Marriott where all the Film Bazaar meetings took place. There was never a dull moment at the INCOGNITO table—my producer Cher Hawrysh and I met French, German, Indian, Australian, and even Polish producers! (Also attached to INCOGNITO are the producing team of Matt Parker and Carly Hugo).

Co-Production Market or Dessert Bar? Meeting French producer Guillaume Benski

An Australian producer Robyn Kershaw (SAVE YOUR LEGS) warned us that she had difficulty figuring out why there was a separate line item in her Indian budget for “spotboys.” A spotboy in the Indian film industry is a person who serves tea and food to the crew. Indeed, heroic spotboys kept the co-production attendees adequately caffeinated during the four-day event.

You need a “spotboy” for your film.

One of the highlights of Film Bazaar was meeting festival programmers like Charles Tesson from Semaine De La Critique/Cannes and Cameron Bailey from the Toronto International Film Fest. Mr. Bailey also gave an excellent presentation on TIFF during the Film Bazaar’s Knowledge Series panels.

Priyanka and Cher and Cameron (TIFF)

Fast forward past a whizzing round of lunches, cocktails, and a Polish dinner, and by Nov 24^th, it was already time to pack my bags and brace myself for the 35-hour trip back to the U.S. Thanksgiving doesn’t get any more productive than this!

Keiko: I came to this country to study fine arts and my main interest was video, so I bought Sony’s first black and white …]]> DCTV Co-Founders Jon Alpert and Keiko Tsuno discuss their beginnings in filmmaking during the early days of video and what drove them to start DCTV in 1972.

Keiko: I came to this country to study fine arts and my main interest was video, so I bought Sony’s first black and white camera. It was very expensive back then. It cost $1600.

Jon: Rent was $65 a month. So it cost the equivalent of two years’ rent.

K: I was living in a loft building on Canal Street. I wanted it to be a kind of Zen retreat. Everything was painted white, with little more than a picnic table for furniture. I wanted to make my life very simple–to put all my energy into my artwork. Then Jon came into my life.

From the beginning, Jon wanted to use video to effect change. He thought that artists were self-centered. He would say, “I want to do something to help society.” Jon was organizing for a taxi drivers’ union. He asked if I wanted to videotape their strike. I agreed, but the equipment was very heavy and I needed someone to carry the deck while I worked the camera. So Jon and I went to the Bronx and videotaped the strike.

Later, we invited the drivers to a screening in Manhattan. About 50 showed up. The reaction was instant. It inspired debate and action. At the time people still didn’t know what video was. It was very new to see ordinary people’s stories being told in such a manner, with such immediacy.

J: The early creative ideas came from Keiko, but I was more reactive. When I saw the catalytic power that video had, I thought it would be a useful tool to accomplish the goals we were trying to reach. We were trying to improve healthcare and schools in lower Manhattan, to improve the quality of life of the city’s taxi drivers, to end the Vietnam War. We weren’t having much success.  But once we began using video, our efforts started working.

The equipment in those days was so new and primitive. There was a real pioneer feeling to it.

K: Tape spooled out of the machine haphazardly. Editing the tape required cutting it with razors.

J: When the first editing machine came out, ours would always catch on fire. A fire extinguisher was a key part of our editing station. We were inventing our own equipment. Other people were also. It was a time of experimentation. Someone invented a method for getting a second audio track by using a piece of paper over the audio erase head. I made a directional mic by wrapping cardboard–the kind that comes with shirts from the cleaners–around a cheap mic.  It didn’t work very well.

K: There was a lot of bonding between video artists at that time. Everything was so new and everyone was so hungry. Video had a kind of magic power. Knowing that we were involved in video bonded us together.

J: There were around a dozen video collectives in lower Manhattan. We were all pushing the envelope, learning from each other, going to watch each other’s tapes. There was a spirit of collectivism at the time.

In those days it was hard to reach an audience. Broadcast TV thought we were all crazy. We decided to make TV by the people, for the people, and bring it to the people. Using an old mail truck and televisions, we set up a mobile screening unit. It was a harsh and unforgiving environment for exhibiting our videos. There was poor lighting. We were usually parked on Canal Street, so it was noisy. All of this yielded an audience with a pretty short attention span.

Sometimes we thought we had made something great, only to realize it didn’t resonate with the public. It pushed us to try to tell a story in a concise fashion, in a way that connected with the audience. It was a great learning experience that kept us humble.

When we saw how effective video could be, and real change coming from our tapes, we felt it was our duty to do this work. But there was only so much we could do ourselves. We started DCTV to deputize others to join our cause. If people wanted to learn how to use equipment, we taught them. We let people use our cameras. All for free.

K: Over at Paper Tiger TV, there’s a quote attributed to me, although I don’t remember if I said it: “Give everyone a camera and change the world.” That was the ethos of what we were striving to do.

Support and celebrate 40 years of filmmaking at DCTV’s 40th Anniversary Celebration on October 11th! http://www.dctvny.org/40th

From the 2011 Independent Filmmaker Conference.

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.

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.

Actor Don Cheadle (Hotel Rwanda, Crash) delivers the closing keynote address from Envision 2012: Stories for a Sustainable Future.

Here, he discusses his career, issues of sustainability, and the merits of social issue filmmaking.

Envision 2012 was presented by IFP, the United Nations Department of Public Information, and the Ford Foundation on …]]>

Actor Don Cheadle (Hotel Rwanda, Crash) delivers the closing keynote address from Envision 2012: Stories for a Sustainable Future.

Here, he discusses his career, issues of sustainability, and the merits of social issue filmmaking.

Envision 2012 was presented by IFP, the United Nations Department of Public Information, and the Ford Foundation on 4/17/12.

For more information, click here.

Around March last year a friend of mine showed me an article about why the video game Angry Birds is so successful. The author Charles L. Mauro CHFP (Certified Human Factors Engineering Professional), was attempting to provide a cognitive scientific report on why the game has been so …]]>

Around March last year a friend of mine showed me an article about why the video game Angry Birds is so successful. The author Charles L. Mauro CHFP (Certified Human Factors Engineering Professional), was attempting to provide a cognitive scientific report on why the game has been so unbelievably successful (now with physical merchandise doing the rounds, and a feature film in the works). These sort of reports remind me of the guy who used to lease us our old studio space in Manhattan who was always trying to think of what he used to call “the next YouTube.” His desire to get rich through some cool new internet startup idea, rather than just sitting down and working hard on playing to his strengths, used to confound us a little. Similarly an analysis of what makes Angry Birds ‘genius’ with the intention of perhaps helping others reapply these findings on a project that could also be as successful, seems fairly futile. I can guarantee you the makers of Angry Birds didn’t apply this ‘science’ when creating the game. They simply wanted to make a fun game and used their intuition to do so. Mauro’s article talks about the ‘mystery’ behind the game as if it was all so calculated. We all know that when you’re deep in the development of a project like this, these things just come about as part and parcel of making it more fun to play. The objective logic that comes with so many levels of artistic ‘criticism’, is so often just an afterthought in the minds of those actually making something. The simple, prevailing fact remains that the brilliance of these things comes purely from the subconscious when making something good. A subconscious that has been trained hard by years of enjoying other art forms in all their many facets. A subconscious that is firing on all cylinders when you’re stuck into development and are becoming one with the creation of the thing.

The most interesting part of Mauro’s article, and in fact the part that lead me to get into an argument with my friend about it, was his ‘How things look’ subheading in which he states the following -

“This leads to a more interesting question: How does visual design impact success in the marketplace? I routinely get this question from clients who are undertaking large redesign or new development projects. Decades after it first surfaced in automobile design, visual design is still the most contentious aspect of designing compelling user experiences. Designers (mostly of the UX stripe) routinely sell clients on the concept that the visual design (graphic style) of a given interface solution is a critical factor in success. This assumption seems to make good intuitive sense. However, the actual working principle is counter-intuitive. In most user experience design solutions, visual design (how things look) is technically a hygiene factor. You get serious negative points if it is missing, but minimal positive lift beyond first impression, if a user interface has great visual design. When we conduct user engagement studies for clients (not the same as usability testing), we routinely see data that strongly supports this theory.”

Needless to say but I found the implications of this statement pretty unsettling and was reminded starkly of Bill Hick’s Advertising or Marketing comic routine (watch it below). Particularly Mauro’s last sentence which almost entirely echoes Hick’s line, “You know what Bill’s doing now, he’s going for the righteous indignation dollar, that’s a big dollar, a lot of people are feeling that indignation, we’ve done research, huge market. He’s doing a good thing.”

The following is a slightly polished version of what I had to say in reply to my friend, regarding Mauro’s points about visual design. It’s relevance to the IFP, filmmakers in general and the making of art of any kind will I hope be evident.

…

Mauro’s argument perhaps stands given the Angry Birds exact context, but largely speaking he’s dealing with a more more profound and complex issue. His point falls flat when you try to apply it to what I’m going to call the ‘Rags to Riches‘ argument. This argument understands that first impressions are certainly of value and that the actual experience of using something is fundamental, but in the end the psychological impact of the visual is the most important, lasting and hard to measure. The ‘rags’ in this case being of course the perceived immediate impact of good visual design, and the ‘riches’ being the powerful long-term, psychological and sociological effects of said design.

I agree that when Mauro is perhaps simply asking, “Why is this game so successful? Look how much money it made – here’s how to potentially make that money too,” then sure, what he’s saying could be of use. However when you consider how depressing people’s neighborhoods, streets, homes, offices, cubicles and online user experiences can be on a daily basis due to skimping on visual design for the sake of ‘what works’, and you then see this later turning into depression, anger and ill-will towards others, you realize we’re talking about something much, much bigger. Something which arguably could affect financial prospects more subconsciously and seriously, albeit at a slower pace.

Mauro continues later in the article to say -

“Even more important than good or bad visual design is appropriate visual design.”

I think this is the key factor here, and that people confuse this issue way too often. Angry Birds has a very appropriate, high standard of design. Without it it simply would not appeal to the millions who’ve paid for it. Guys think it’s pretty cool, girls think it’s cute, it makes kids laugh, it spaces out adults – all of this is absolutely requisite and in this regard Mauro’s article absolutely nails many of the elements that make it so enjoyable to use.

In the same fashion if you were going to design cheap housing in some backwater town, would you use materials that are going to stain, droop, crack and crumble after a few years? You know full well no one is going to revisit this place for repairs and that those living there can’t afford to repair it either. Why make anything that will rot both physically and psychologically everything around it? If there isn’t enough money to make it well, it should not be made at all. To quote the architect Howard Roark from Ayn Rand’s novel, The Fountainhead -

“Rules? Here are my rules: what can be done with one substance must never be done with another. No two materials are alike. No two sites on earth are alike. No two buildings have the same purpose. The purpose, the site, the material determine the shape. Nothing can be reasonable or beautiful unless it’s made by one central idea, and the idea sets every detail. A building is alive, like a man. Its integrity is to follow its own truth, its one single theme, and to serve its own single purpose. A man doesn’t borrow pieces of his body. A building doesn’t borrow hunks of its soul. Its maker gives it the soul and every wall, window, and stairway to express it.”

It’s about long-term psychology as much as it is about immediate success, and without discussing these decisions you can’t knock one thing and say it’s simply not as important as the other. As Mauro notes you can’t accurately put monetary value on visual changes, but in the same way that you do things to help the environment (that you also can’t see directly dying as a result of your actions), it’s wrong to imply as Mauro does that it’s simply a ‘hygiene factor.’ That hygiene factor is what I’m calling the long-term psychology of a design, and what Howard Roark calls a building’s soul.

So, to correct Mauro somewhat, I think it would be smarter to state that, “Even more important than good or bad visual design is appropriate visual design, and what is appropriate design is multi-faceted and entirely respective of context.”

Whether you like it or not, your entire world is affected by the look and feel of the things you engage with for long periods each day. It’s a designer’s job to try to overcome employers who make it less attractive and ‘more functional’ simply because they can pay you less to do this job and make more money. These people are idiots who don’t have a long-view of their general, daily, psycho-visual imbalances. I say this of course with the proviso that greater function doesn’t always come with a guaranteed decrease in visual quality – it just seems to so often be the case. The simple fact remains that cutting corners makes people suffer and if you can run away with the money and ignore the consequences, you’re a selfish charlatan. You are a part of the problem and not the solution.

I can appreciate that Mauro is largely appealing to those who want to make a buck, however this is bad advice because it assumes that the only value of good design is related to products and their markets. To reiterate once and for all, it’s our responsibility as human beings to remember there’s a lot of people on the planet who have no control over the look of the world around them and who are ruled by those who want to ‘make a buck’. Those of us that must suffer living beneath billboards towering above, promising soulless dreams, the garishly coloured junk food wrappers sitting in the gutter, the television commercials selling drugs for pains that don’t exist, the dying buildings built with cheap materials slumping under the weight of their own short lives, the angry faces and the lack of respect for anything. These people aren’t idiots. They know better than anyone that the look of the world around them massively affects their subconscious state of mind. They know it when they walk out of their rotting front door, glance at the grey sky, the paint peeling from the walls of their neighbour’s house across the street, scrape the ice from their car’s windshield with the splintering lid of a margarine tub, curse as the car won’t start and their foot goes through the rusted bottom of it as they lash out in anger. They know it when some of them later get drunk and walk around smashing windows, keying car doors, spray-painting church walls, and beating people up – all scenes I’ve witnessed in my years growing up in England in the suburbs of Cambridge, 3 years at University in Manchester and later living in Bedford-Stuyvesant in New York City. It’s a level of rage that I can support and forgive when places like that are your reality. Try getting mugged at 8:30am on your way to work, as I was in 2008, and being told by the cops that there’s no point in reporting it.

Some of these people hate the world around them. They know what the end-game is better than the thoughtless assholes who make the products, create the ads for them and leave those ads gathering mould on some rusted old bus-stop sign, 23 stops out of town in some relentless nightmare of a burnt out suburb. The sorts of places that otherwise only filmmakers dare frequent in order to make their gritty melodramas. We have got to remember that every small gesture toward making things simply functional, that disregards how much ‘greyer’ you are making the user’s day, is a very valid negative point.

There’s a lyric from the Pulp song Glory Days that comes to mind -

“Oh we were brought up on the Space-Race, now they expect you to clean toilets.”

…

Of course these arguments mean nothing until you can tie them back to money. This is the hard cold fact one must accept if you’re going to make any changes to the world these days. There are no gods left to use as any real threat to your actions, and the perceived ties between actual art and big money are mostly hanging by a string. Mauro wrote his article for people who want to make money. I am writing my article for free, with no apparent financial gain for anyone. So let me throw my marketing hat in the ring for a second here and point out how a long-term view of these things can and will actually make you money, as well as making the world a better place.

Think about how things will look retrospectively if you actually put in the time to make something visually beautiful as well as functionally sound. We only ever look back at the things that looked and performed fantastically, and cherish those particular things with heaps of nostalgia and warm hearts. We never look back at the ugly, embarrassing things that made lots of money in the same way. This might seem irrelevant, but listen up – these days heaps of money is made by harnessing that retro-active nostalgia and reaping what you can from that. More than ever we are focusing on remakes, reboots, retro-fashion, older sounding records, aging our photographs, and 80s-looking video game pixelated aesthetics.

There’s no denying that there is money in making things built to last, making things a canonical representation of the visual style of the era you’re living in and making people feel respected by giving them the finest. People want to love their past, they want to look back at previous decades with a smile, they want to relive that in every way they can and they’ll buy it.

It all comes full circle ultimately.

Everything from the look of a video game to the look of a bus-stop is relevant to people’s daily experience of the world. If you give people one moment to think you don’t care about them and that you’re not offering them in some capacity the best of what life has to offer, then you’re responsible for the slow, aching decline of civilization, the inevitable death of your company and, to paraphrase Fight Club, Brad Pitt pissing in your food at the formal business dinner where your boss raised a glass to you and offered you that huge promotion.

In the end, whatever your craft, the moment you’re thinking about the money, skimping on the quality of the design and focusing on your immediate financial gains, the worse you are making life for everyone else, and eventually yourself. So the next time you’re arguing with your designer, give this some thought. Could be they’re just a chump doing lazy work, but it could be that they’re fighting for a larger cause, one they subscribed to at a younger age when they made the connection between beauty and a better life. Rags to riches.

When I first decided to make Future Weather I thought the gods would condemn me to a life of shame and hypocrisy if I did not produce the most sustainable film possible. This was 2007. Al Gore had spoken. Peak oil was a hot topic. And ‘green’, ‘sustainability’, ‘local’ and …]]>

When I first decided to make Future Weather I thought the gods would condemn me to a life of shame and hypocrisy if I did not produce the most sustainable film possible. This was 2007. Al Gore had spoken. Peak oil was a hot topic. And ‘green’, ‘sustainability’, ‘local’ and ‘eco-consciousness’ were being trumpeted throughout the blogosphere.

How could I dare tell the story of a young environmentalist – and say something intelligent about global warming – through something as anti-environment as producing a low-budget independent film. Driving trucks all over creation, flying actors, painting sets, eating picnic-style everyday on plastic plates, craft services junk food and water bottles littering the set, not to mention all the energy-sucking lights and reams of paper wasted to print call sheets and script revisions! Overnight shipping!? Idling cars!!?

There had to be a better way…trucks and vans fueled by recycled vegetable oil, cast and crew re-pasting on unsprayed food grown down the road by bearded young beekeepers – with real plates and silverware! Lights powered by the sun and PAs riding bikes off-the-path of native grasses while reading the day’s call sheet on hemp paper!

There weren’t a ton of guidelines at the time for how to green a film set on-the-cheap, so I began researching sustainability in general, and what one could do to lower carbon emissions at home and at work. The results can be found on our blog, The Future Weather Report (and I’ve scattered several links throughout to some useful posts). What I found was that being green often means choices that require more time or more money than we’re accustomed to. And time and money are the things a low-budget filmmaker is always struggling to find more of.

I soon realized this green production experiment was a whole project unto itself. My deepest desire was to tell my story about a girl with a legitimate fear of what the future holds. Writing, directing and producing this independently on a shoestring budget would be ambitious enough without adding “zero carbon footprint” to the to-do list. Besides, one uber-green nut on a film set in Pennsylvania was not going to change the planet. A good film might have at least one iota more of a chance.

So I stepped back and tried to take a much more realistic and manageable approach. Here are 10 things I can pass on to you.

1. Let Go of Being a Saint

A film is a collaborative effort. Everyone involved is going to have a different experience level with your “eco-friendly” (read “annoyingly inconvenient and time-consuming”) practices, and some may have harder habits to break. Styrofoam’s going to happen. Plastic bags are going to happen. Try to roll with it. You’re also not going to think of everything. We certainly didn’t with Future Weather. And now I have much better ideas for how I’d do it next time. So set a practical goal for your production team and try to stick with it.

2. Attitude

Assign someone to be the ‘Green Deputy,’ the ‘Sustainable Foreman,’ the ‘Eco-Police.’ Whatever you want to call this person in your production, it’s probably a good idea to make it someone’s job from the start to set the tone and implement your production’s credo and guidelines. This was the approach we communicated:

“We are filmmakers first, green experts second. We consider ourselves real people trying an experiment in sustainability. Some of these things may be outside of your daily routine, but it should be fun. We’re all in it together. If there’s something you’re not sure about, just ask! For an indie film, the biggest limitations are time and money, so not everything is going to be 100% green. There will be hard choices!”

Feel free to borrow it or make it your own.

3. Recycle (And Reuse)

Everything can be recycled. Doesn’t mean it’s the most energy-efficient thing to do. But if it ends up in your possession, you have to figure out how it’s going to leave your possession. If you can’t reuse it, and it’s not biodegradable, then you can either sell it, throw it out, or recycle it. If your municipal recycling doesn’t take it, figure out who does in your area. If no one does, then try to cut down on using it. Show everyone where the recycling bins are, clearly label them, and slap their wrists when they throw that sugarcane plate with the oily salad dressing all over it in the bin for paper.

“Hello, dirty paper can’t be recycled!”

4. Water Bottles

There’s really no reason to continue the habit of providing plastic water bottles on-set. People will throw lots of them at you, but just nod and have your production manager try to get you a good deal on reusable bottles. Your crew will go for it just fine if you give them all their own stainless steel bottle with a caribiner and their names on it. Have PAs fill them with icy cold water whenever people ask — better yet, without having to. A few will get lost, but not a big deal compared to the amount of evil plastic you’re avoiding. (Though we still bought a couple of cases of bottled water in case of emergency.) Thank you, dear Carolina Roca-Smith for bringing this practice to our set!

5. Power Strips

Snooze. Boring. You know what those are and that they can be flipped off at the end of each day to stop your printer, coffeemaker, phone charger, and lamp from using vampire energy.

6. Save Paper

You don’t need to become a martyr for the forests. Just don’t waste paper. There are lots of practical, cost-saving ways to do this. Buy 100% recycled. Don’t be snotty about it. You’re working on a tar rooftop in 90-degree heat. Save scrap paper and print on the backs. Print scripts and call sheets double-sided, even 4-sided (faster read that way anyway) and cut the call sheets in fours. Use Google Docs or Dropbox for things you want to share. And relax. If it helps you do your job better or more efficiently to print something on paper once in awhile, so be it. God knows it wouldn’t hurt to plant more trees.

7. Feed People “Real Food”

Mass food production in the US has a huge carbon footprint. But it’s cheap. This is the indie filmmaker’s dilemma and it’s real. So let’s break it down. Food with a smaller carbon footprint can have multiple criteria: local, organic, seasonal, vegetarian. If you can’t afford them all, pick one, even if it’s as simple as getting a local orchard to donate a bushel of apples for craft services. Caterers who specialize in sustainable food are becoming more and more common, and are often willing to work out a deal with you that fits your budget (particularly if you tell them you have the same values, and are trying to figure out how to bring them to a low-budget film set).  Also, ask your crew if they’re willing to go vegetarian one or two days a week. That alone will cut down on a lot of emissions.

8. Compost

Let’s skip this one for now. Unless it got you a little excited! This idea really made my old hippie-child heart skip a beat. And it was much easier than we thought with the help of a progressive new company in Philadelphia called Philly Compost. They provided bins for our food scraps and would pick them up at the end of each day. Turns out our caterer, Cosmic Catering, also uses Philly Compost and provided us with a complete supply of compostable plates, cups, napkins, and utensils to enjoy it with. Full circle.

9. Partner

Small businesses and independent producers have a lot in common: entrepreneurialism. Whether you target local or green ones (both a hallmark of sustainability), many business owners will be willing to work out trade-offs simply based on your common goals or sense of camaraderie. They will also become champions of the film, which always helps the independent producer.

10. Don’t Reinvent the Wheel

There’s a growing number of excellent resources out there for the independent producer who is interested in sustainability, and many local film offices are publishing their own. Here are several that come highly recommended:

Code of Best Practices in Sustainable Filmmaking, a collaboration between Filmmakers for Conservation and the American University School of Communication

SETS (Setting Environment Toward Sustainability), a green production guide created by set designer Karyn Gerred and the Greater Philadelphia Film Office

PGA Green, a website and green production guide from the Producers Guild of America – open to non-members!

EMA Green Seal Guidelines, a guide to best practices created by the Environmental Media Association

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.