Film

This week, I have the (subjective) pleasure of working for a production company shooting a commercial for a Japanese product. This means that the agency, client, and several crewmembers will be – Japanese. I have no inherent problems with Japan, or Japanese people; and I especially have no problem with sushi. Unfortunately, God made me Woman, and Japanese men don’t really like women. At all. Unless they’re starring in Tokyo porno. 

The main problem posed by this work arrangement is as follows: the Japanese take culinary arts very, very seriously. I really don’t need to verify this in writing; all you have to do is watch “Iron Chef” on Food Network to see a grown man cry when his tobanyaki just isn’t quite as tender as that of his competitor. Being that Japan hosts an extremely chauvinistic society, those arts held in high regard – like said culinary arts – are reserved for men, and men only. Women don’t go near them. Now, we both know that when I work on set, I don’t make meals, just make snacks. I mean, seriously. It’s one thing when I’m at some rock legend’s house, whipping up stuffed tenderloin roasts with cranberry coulis, braised broccoli rabe, roasted beets with fennel and rosemary, key lime pie, blah blah blah. It’s quite another thing when I’m doing yoga on a commercial set by standing in some grip’s face, while he stuffs it full of whatever’s-on-this-platter that I just threw together. Snacks. Snacks. Snacks! But still…with the Japanese, I am inferior. 

I’m going to backtrack for a moment, so indulge my digress: I went to all-girl’s school for ten years. We’re not talking about Catholic school, with cute-sy kilts and bows in my hair. We’re talking about The Grooming Of Future Wellesley Women. Think Ann Coulter, Hillary RODHAM Clinton, and lots of other mean, homely women with thick calves and a questionable sexual history. I had feminism beaten into me every fucking day of my life for ten. Whole. Years. I have been bred to just do whatever the fuck I want, in my own way, because I damn well please. The women who molded my formative education may have burned bras at one time, and smiled at the thought of me growing up to be a ball-busting, pants-wearing diplomat or political commentator, but I took a great deal of their teachings with a boulder of salt. Don’t get me wrong: I love being smart, I love being ambitious, and I love being successful and effective. I also love being feminine, and I love men who are masculine; and I love allowing natural gender roles to take their course. 

What I don’t love is a philosophy of gender that dictates the following statement: 

“Because you are a woman, there are certain things you just cannot do. 
Cooking is one of these things. The reason you cannot cook is because 
you do not, and never will, taste food CORRECTLY. You do not taste 
food correctly because you have monthly hormonal fluctuations that 
increase the heat of your mouth and your stomach, therefore destroying 
your taste.” 

The person who said this to me was a sushi chef named Yoshi. This was my retort: 

“Okay, then I have a question. I would like to know how YOU taste food 
‘correctly’ if you drink Sapporo and smoke Marlboro Reds all fucking day?” 

Yoshi didn’t have an answer. The reason that this short tiff ever occurred was because he didn’t believe that I had celebrity clients for my personal chef business. Two weeks later, I beat him and his friends at an early-morning round of golf (from their tees, NOT the ladies’ tees). He barely spoke to me again. 

So, finally I make my way back to my predicament: I will be in the throes of foodie sexism for two days, receiving glares and rude comments. I’ll look forward to my well-earned paycheck. I will bring my laptop along for unbiased companionship. I also will not be able to make ‘hot food’ of any kind, even if it is pre-packaged (yuck! I make everything homemade!). They will not eat it. And coming from a country where turning anything down is incredibly rude – even if it’s some floozy’s purple belly button lint – that’s the epitome of disrespectful behavior. This means that grips and electrics will be very, very unhappy. These are dudes who just want to eat Twinkies fried in lard all day long….screw Roasted Corn Chowder! It’s vegetarian (and according to several ‘old-timers,’ anything vegetarian was Grown In Shit and – thus – inedible). 

Craft service vixen, sweet as can be…caught between two worlds: one sexist and scientifically retarded; another overweight and sexually deprived. I’m really glad that Seven Layer Dip is a winner in every culture.

My email box was ablaze this past Friday with news that Paramount was forming their own micro-budget film division.  The goal is to make twenty $100k no-budget features a year.  After their success with “Paranormal Activity,” (a film they DID NOT PRODUCE, by the way), this sounds like a case of ‘give the guy a rope and now he thinks he’s a cowboy.’  All I can say is, “good luck!”

As someone who has devoted most of the last 15 years to no-budget filmmaking and spent the last six years specifically working on this kind of a multi-film model, not to mention the last five years teaching no-budget filmmaking and making my own no-budget features, I have this cautionary note for Paramount:  it’s harder than it looks.

The set of a typical Paramount film

I’m used to not getting paid for my work. And I don’t mind doing most of the work myself. I often break laws and take undo risks when I produce. And I’m not afraid to reinvent the way to make a movie for each new project.  This doesn’t sound like a studio’s modus operandi to me. I could think of any number of elements that alone would cost a studio more than the $100k:

- Acting talent fees (or did they not know that their own system has required movies to be made with stars these days)
- All other ATL talent fees (the directors and producers on my movies NEVER make an upfront fee—that’s one important, basic way you keep the budget down)
- Rewriting those scripts (they mention obtaining scripts and then re-writing them. Last time I checked, optioning scripts and hiring writers, especially for a studio, costs money. Or are they just going to hire unknown writers and give them a shot. The film festival world is filled with those results already).
- A union crew (this is a studio after all—how are they getting around unions??)
- A good editor (this is the camel that often breaks a no-budget film’s back.  Most successful no-budget films were edited by the writer/director or had some team member who was absolutely dedicated to the project who edited it. Once you go outside of that and hire a real editor, who is talented, you’re going to have to pay them for their three or more months of work. Even if you can get their agent down to say, $2k or $1k per week, you’re talking about 10% to 20% of your budget right there).
- Insurance (studios, with something to lose, like insurance, which is expensive)
- Lawyer fees (studios REALLY like lawyers. If I had to pay a lawyer to help me make my movies, all the money would go to them, most likely. I suppose they could charge their in-house legal fees to other divisions?)
- Permitting locations and paying to rent them (if you’ve taken my class or read any of my production entries on my site, you know I’m not a fan of either paying to rent locations or permitting them. Locations in LA are expensive and permitting is too.)
- And so many other things…

The set of my last film

This smells to me of people who have no idea of what they’re doing.  Who have never studied a $100k budget.  Who have never asked people to work for free.  Who have never begged, borrowed, or stolen.  Who really don’t know how hard it is, how nearly impossible it is, to make a good movie on no money.  As someone who has worked with some of the most talented people in the business at doing this, (Chris Nolan on his $12k feature “Following,” for instance) and seen literally 1,000s of attempts that didn’t work out, I can tell them that a studio is probably the least-equipped place I can think of to make this work.  Even InDigEnt, which was formed by talented filmmakers, an independently minded film company, and one of the smartest people in the independent film world, ultimately couldn’t make this model work, certainly not for $100k and over the long haul.  They had many wonderful successes, but 20! Per year!!

I make these films out of necessity. I pay very little a month for my rent-controlled apartment and I still struggle to make ends meet, just to have the opportunity to make films the way I want to make them—with creative control and no studio interference. People with mortgages and kids and nice things that they enjoy can not make movies this way. And Paramount doesn’t have the legal stomach to pull off the things that we do every day as independent filmmakers.

So to you, Paramount, I’ll say it again, “Good Luck!” (and if you’re hiring for this, I’m easy to reach!)

I’ve been in LA less than a year, and if there’s one thing I’ve noticed it’s that people here just don’t ‘get it.’ People think they can make others care about what they’re writing, shooting, acting in, or creating. And yet, no one I talk to ever seems to care much about anything anyone else is doing. There’s some kind of weird disconnect; once the smog hits their lungs, people become self-involved, self-absorbed and care only about how to advance their own careers. Somehow, they seem to forget success is a two-way street.

How many filmmakers do you know that put every cent they have (plus a bunch they don’t) into making a movie?  They work their ass off putting in an ungodly amount of hours, obsessing over every detail, until, after a year (or five), they finally get to the end of it. The movie’s finished, and if they’re lucky, it’s the movie they set out to make. After a brief period of thinking, “Thank God that’s over. Wow, I’m really proud of this,” they realize…NO ONE GIVES A SHIT.

The economy is in the toilet. The independent film market is dead. Everyone is afraid to buy anything. And, while your friends and family are supportive, how many friends do you have?  If your family doesn’t work in ‘the industry,’ who is going to distribute your film and get you out of bankruptcy? The reality is, the only way to get people interested and excited about what they’re doing is to care what others are doing – by sharing, collaborating and helping each other out.

So how do you do that? How do you build a collaborative, supportive environment so that you are NOT alone at the end of the line? You work towards creating a community that promotes people other than yourself, and bury the notion that the entertainment business revolves and you. It doesn’t. Get over it. You can either bang your head against the wall wondering why you aren’t at the Oscars, OR you can start taking advantage of what you do have going for you, and build a foundation that will ultimately help you achieve your long term goals.

In case you’re wondering, the above is a real life example: mine. I recently finished producing and editing the independent feature film, How I Got Lost. The film is making its rounds on the festival circuit.  And the thing my fellow filmmakers and I realized quickly, is that there are A LOT of indies out there, and not a lot of distributors with funds to buy them.  So we decided to be creative.

We came up with a monthly workshop to build community to keep us moving forward. We call it, “Something to do on a Wednesday ‘til you get really famous.” The idea behind it came from the realization that, while we didn’t have any money left for publicity, and the festival circuit is overcrowded, we have one thing going for us. We know a lot of writers, directors, and actors with projects, who need a place to show off their stuff, develop it, and meet more creative people ‘doing it.’

We had our first meeting in May. And, as we had hoped, people were into it. They just wanted to do something that didn’t involve all the bullshit. This workshop is about making other people’s work better, drinking some wine, hanging out, and, in some small way, doing something for the reason we moved here: to make cool shit.  We followed that up with another workshop in June, just a week ago. We had three new writers, even more new actors, and were standing room only. All we are doing is reading scripts together! This workshop won’t get you an agent. It will not sell your movie. It will not make or break your career. But, this workshop WILL remind you that filmmakers can form a community out here, in Lala land, and that there are a lot of people that feel the same way we do about this town.

Our long term goal is to build a network where people talk to each other, and go to each others’ screenings, concerts, showcases and events.  We plan to throw our own events and invite you to join us. In turn, we want to help you promote your events. We want everyone involved to think and practice that mantra we learned in first grade, “I’ll come to yours, if you’ll come to mine.” And then just maybe, if we can get it together just enough, and we workshop our projects to make them good, the industry might sit up and take notice. And even if they don’t, fuck em, cause we’re going to have a great time along the ride.

Our little film, How I Got Lost, screened two weeks ago at the Dances with Films Festival at the Laemmle 5 on Sunset.  We had a packed house.  That was not an accident.

And why do we keep going to see these ultra-formulaic dribble?
 

The first question has an easy answer.  They’d be boring.  The second, because we’re hoping they’ll give us some insight into, and navigate the jungles of, modern relationships.  One more question: How’s that workin’ out for us?
 

The people in these movies are played by a sliver of the population that is not only the wealthiest and most beautiful, but also gets married and divorced as often as we singles join new dating web-sites.  Insight into navigating relationships is simply not the reason.  Yet there we are at the box office, shelling out another $10.50, or $11.25, or whatever it costs in your part of the country.
 

I remember, at some point, that romantic comedies were known as ‘chick-flicks’.  This was a stigma that kept us self-respecting men’s men out of certain theatres.  We all witnessed John Cusak come of age only to go soft in a string of  such ‘chick-flicks’, before reclaiming his manhood as a hit-man.  Thank God!
 

But who really messed things up was Adam Sandler, Ben Stiller, Jim Carey, Owen Wilson, Brad Pitt and Will Smith, for Christ-sake; An entire era of funny men, and a couple of man-crush-worthy super-heroes, demanding our loyalty to the tune of $10 bucks a pop, for this sickening genre.
 

Are you beginning to see the picture?  Are you having an, ‘Ah ha’ moment?  No?  Well, it gets worse.  Show me a man of any race, creed, color or sexual orientation who wouldn’t have a drink with Sandra Bullock and I’ll show you a soulless shell of a disconnected eunuch.
 

The Proposal, starring Sandra Bullock and a bunch of other folks (yeah, I know, Betty White, a consummate pro – steals every scene she’s in, save for when Sandra is singing, “From the window, to the wall…”) is what I’m talking about, people.  I’m not referring to Anne Fletcher (the director) or Ryan Reynolds (also good).  Great job you guys, whatever.  I’m talking about one of  the more under-rated actors of our time.  Every actor has had to audition with an awful script.  Every actor who got that gig had to perform on screen that awful script and most of them were desperately grateful to do so.  Who does this better than Sandra Bullock?  No one.  She is a ‘Every-Woman’ and somewhere between her role in Crash and 28 Days, we discovered that the cute, adorable little girl from Speed is not only a savior of bad writing, but has serious depth.  In, The Proposal, she makes us fall in love with an uptight, cold-hearted, self-absorbed, tight-ass bitch of a stereo-type and transforms her into a feeling, vulnerable, terribly hurt and guarded, sympathetic, expressive, funny, compassionate little puddin’.  It’s a friggin diabolical conspiracy, I tell you.
 

Like the rest of the films in this genre, it is completely predictable from start to finish.  As if the preview doesn’t show and tell us everything, all the joy is in watching Ms. Bullock’s character slowly crack, right up to the final scene.
 

Us guys, we watch ‘dude-flicks’ and adhere to ‘man-law’.  It’s what we do. What makes this genre different from action, vigilante, sci-fi, and the movies where the dorks live out their every fantasy, is that romantic comedies trick us into thinking that this could happen to us.  For instance, I could be Sandra Bullock’s door-mat, with the stilettos, tight skirt and all, easy!  I could accidentally poke her with my morning wood.  In fact, I’ve done that, just not to her…you know what I mean.  I will admit, reality (or the lack thereof) starts to creep in when you see two people, stark naked and dripping wet, run smack into each other and fall on top of one another.  Although I would find it incredibly enjoyable, I don’t realistically ever see this happening to me.  It must have been a fun scene to shoot though! And, like all the corny stuff Sandra Bullock has done in her career, I bought it.  Hell, I already spent the money.  Why not?

Genuine. That’s not usually a word associated with Los Angelenos. But, that’s how I found the participants and organizers of the 2009 Los Angeles Film Festival when I worked as a volunteer this summer. Being a recent transplant (just 4 months in questionably sunny LA), I have been amazed by the openness, friendless and curiousness of the people involved with this festival. The staffers seem to really appreciate the volunteers, taking time to learn our names by heart, praising our assistance, allowing for flexible schedules, and reminding us how the festival could not run without us. That was my first impression.
 

Nothing really changed about their attitudes towards us; the volunteer coordinators truly excelled at their job, and I commend them. It is unfortunate, however, that the various department heads did not excel at utilizing the volunteers in a way that could have truly improved the festival. The need for volunteers was over-anticipated and under-utilized. We spent much time getting to know each other instead of actually contributing. Even the interns seemed lackluster in their approach to their jobs — not much was expected, and not much was returned.
 

One way the festival use of volunteers fell short surprised me. The volunteers who manned the entrance doors at special events were given very few instructions, and seemed to have little awareness of industry names and faces. These doors are the entry gates to networking extraordinaire. We were given little guidance in handling party crashers or unanticipated “plus ones”. While that may be great for indie filmmakers ‘getting in’ these schwag filled, free drink flowing glamor events, it doesn’t service well LAFF’s rep. The festival reeked of Mickey Mouse when the volunteers at the door had no idea how to distinguish VIP invitees from opportunists.
 

The discouraging thing was, with my real estate and marketing background and awareness of the entertainment industry, I could easily have handled many of the festival organizers jobs. But in this jobless environment, it is nearly impossible to obtain one of those (albeit low) paid positions.
 

The films? Whoops, I missed many of them trying to eek out a meaningful contribution to the behind-the-scenes. But, when I did sneak a peak, I thoroughly enjoyed watching Dustin Hoffman and Jon Voight reminisce over the making of Midnight Cowboy 40 years ago, after they sat in the audience and watched the movie side-by-side. At the same time, it was annoying that the evening would have gone just as smoothly if the four of us volunteers had not even shown up. Although we appreciated the event as viewers, we were not utilized as volunteers. Maybe I’m in the minority for actually wanting to work and improve the festival, but isn’t that the true volunteer spirit? With so many talented filmmakers and film fanatics in Los Angeles eagerly awaiting a chance to be involved, we actually WANT to do something to help! Maybe that frustration explains why I skipped my last shift. Shhhh!

Director: Tomas Alfredson
Writer: John Ajvide Lindqvist
Release: 10/24/08 (Norway)
Cast: Kåre Hedebrant, Lina Leandersson
 

Let the Right One In is a nearly flawless coming of age love story with all the right elements of a vampire fable. Swedish director, Tomas Alfredson, creates a darkly poetic atmosphere with surprisingly innovative results.  It has all the elements of a strong film: good storytelling, great cinematography and two wonderfully realized, awkward 12 year olds. Take time to enjoy this rare gem that is a must see.
 

Warning! Turn off the default dubbed version and watch only in the original Swedish with English subtitles.

As sweet and colorful as a snow cone, this delightful happy-sad confection follows an awkward Alaskan teen as she discovers her Yup’ik heritage while rallying her fellow misfits to compete in her school’s Snowstorm Survivor competition. (Synopsis: IMDB)

As a frequently awkward adult I was scared shit-less to host red carpet interviews for the LAFF debut of the feature film Dear Lemon Lima. But, I discovered my inner interviewer with the help of my fellow artists at Film and Music Forum, oh and that guy with the flask full of vodka, dude you rock.

Based on her childhood diary written to an imaginary friend, writer-director Suzi Yoonessi explores the pain of heartache at the age of thirteen and the triumph of finding yourself amidst the carnage.

When I was thirteen I wanted to be a writer for Cosmopolitan magazine. I would be a glamorous columnist living in a New York loft.  I would have luxurious locks and long lashes and I would never get married.  Fast forward a couple of years and all I wanted to be was Sean Lavoy’s girlfriend, so I was thrilled to see the character of Vanessa (played by Savanah Wiltfong) find her way through in Dear Lemon Lima, because frankly, I am still looking. At least I stopped reading those fucking magazines.

I was most impressed with the young actors on the red carpet, self assured in their interviews and proactive in their approach to acting. Each one had a very specific plan for the future and a process to get there.  That blows my mind. Many of us, with mucho talent, (and yes I am including myself as part of my own program) sometimes have no idea how to channel it.  Not only are we responsible for the creative process, but also taking the steps to get it out there.  Savanah had never even acted before.  She simply sent in an audition tape.

Suzi Yoonessi says perseverance is key.  Though she received multiple grants to make this film, she admitted the application process can be discouraging. It was vital to the success of the project that she kept applying until she heard a “yes.”  Meaghan Jette Martin, who plays Megan in the film, told me not to take rejection personally: great advice!  She continued that we can’t control how the other person perceives us. For example, maybe we look like someone’s ex-wife or the mean girl from high school. And the audition is over before it begins.  Perseverance.

The red carpet itself is like high school.  Everyone wants to talk to the same select group of people.  The beauty of Film and Music Forum is that we can learn from anyone in the industry (no matter how recognizeable that face is today) and use that knowledge to further our own process.  So whenever I was asked by a publicist “Do you want to talk to so and so?” my answer was instinctively, “Absolutely. I want to talk to everyone.”