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Advent of an Independant Filmmaker
December 16, 2003
I’ve been trying, for the better part of three weeks, to write a journal on the experience of Dead End Days. I wrote a page, sent it off to the rest of the team for reactions, and realized ten seconds later that I hated it. It was forced, clumsy, and pointless, not to mention sentimental in all the wrong ways. The kind of stuff it makes my blood curdle to read.
So I let it fester on my computer for two weeks, and every once in a while took another few minutes to open it up, stare at it, and then give up again.
I couldn’t figure out why it was so hard to write. This wasn’t an opus, it was just a few words on my feelings about this project. And feelings I had plenty of, but somehow they wouldn’t translate themselves into words.
It just occurred to me tonight that it’s because I don’t understand what I’m doing.
Not that I haven’t prepared for this. Technically and creatively, this is where my entire life has been heading. But I feel a bit like I’ve just gone out and bought myself a few brushes and a palette, and now I’ve been asked to paint the Sistine ceiling.
When I’m inside the project, shooting, performing, planning, it always feels natural. So natural it hurts when I have to stop. But once I’ve had a few moments to comprehend what we’re attempting, then everything seems so gargantuan that I’m not sure where I fall into it, or what good I can do.
It doesn’t help, of course, that we’re working in a medium I don’t really understand. Film I can grasp, but when it comes to the web, I’m out of my depth. I just know that Brad disappears for a while, and when he comes out of seclusion, our website is cooler, and anyone in the world can tune in to see what we’ve made. And again, I don’t really understand what contribution I’ve made to that.
But then it starts up again, and I’m holding a boom pole, or setting up lighting, or staring into the lens of the camera, and that feeling vanishes. It’s hard, and tiring, but we’re doing it, and I know I’m part of the reason why. I still don’t know what I’m doing, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m doing it, and doing it well.
In those moments, I can’t help but think we’re on to something here. Working with a small group, no heirarchy, no egos, just roles to fill and willing people to fill them. Actors working on set decoration, directors and producers performing, wardrobe filling in continuity gaps… It’s like this is the primal concept of film, without all the meaningless rules. It’s how movies are meant to be made.
It’s changed the way I look at the people around me, too. Matt and I have been friends for years, so I knew a long time ago that he was a rare thing. But watching him work, the way his creativity forms this project out of the air and turns it into something tangible, is truly incredible. My respect for him has increased a thousand-fold since we began.
Brad I haven’t known as long, but I’m struck speechless by his energy. Whenever I’m feeling strained, spread a little too thin, I just look at him, the way he attacks this thing, running the technical side almost single-handedly while still putting more than his fair share into the creative side, and I find I’ve got enough energy to get me a little further, even if it’s just to keep up with him.
Jay, the writer, I’ve always known was brilliant. His scripts unfailingly make me grin. His characters are so sharp I can hear them speaking to me. I’m awed and envious at the same time.
And these people are just the beginning. It’s like we’ve become a magnet for talented, unique individuals. It’s quite an experience, watching them work.
It’s humbling, but at the same time it’s empowering. I still don’t entirely understand how I got here, surrounded by people who bleed potential. Part of me thinks I’m the black sheep here. But there’s another part of me that thinks that maybe this is where I actually fit in.
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