Film and Music Forum

Doozies N’ Doodles

Hilary Barraford — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 09:01:03 +0000

One of the most incredible things about being an actor is getting to live life “as if.” As if you were younger, older, funnier, meaner, bolder or sexier. Whatever you could never be – or might never try – in your own life, you’ve got a free pass to explore between the commands “action” and “cut.” And sometimes you’ve gotta weigh the journey and make sure you want to hoof that mile in someone else’s shoes.

As Angelenos go, I’m certainly unique, but not that original. I’m an East Coast transplant who recently celebrated one year in Los Angeles – which means I landed on the heels of the writer’s strike and had just enough time to figure out that the 405 is never a good call before the economy plummeted. In short, my star on the Boulevard is on perpetual layaway, just like the shoppers who opt to dress for less at Ross in installments.

So when I got offered my first lead role in LA (asterisk: in a USC graduate short), I was ecstatic. Of course, it meant that now I’d actually have to do the role. I’d said in the audition, without hesitation, that I was completely comfortable with the material. But you’d say just about anything to get the part, right?

Hilary Barraford and Director Becca Louisell

“Nikki & Alex” is a story about two former lovers who reunite after five years to see if there’s still a spark. As you might imagine, there’s a catch. Nikki (played by me) announces she’s engaged to be married to a guy named Keith, which isn’t what her ex-girlfriend Alex wants to hear. Their lesbian relationship unfolds through a series of flashbacks that demand total commitment. When you’re an actor, you should be able to become any character, even if their truth differs from yours. You’re either all in, or you’re out (in this case, you’re so out if you’re in). And I was all in.

The very first weekend, we shot almost no dialogue and every relationship flashback sequence in the film. To catalogue the scene list, that’s two kissing, a fantasy hotel, a simulated sex and a simulated masturbation scene – all done artistically, of course. A tall order for two actors who’d just met (and are not gay). But we found a way to be comfortable in the moment (it helped that my costar went to my rival school, Amherst College, as we’d both come from the same place), and even enjoy the shoot.

The next day, we were rehearsing for the following weekend’s shoot (mercifully comprised entirely of dialogue), and I had a realization. I turned to my costar and mused: “You know what? I made out with you all weekend and don’t even know your last name. Weird, right?” She nodded and agreed, but ignored my cue and turned her attention back to the cues in her script. Nope, now I’m curious. “So…” I probed, “what’s your last name?”

I had to wait at least a few Pinter pauses for an answer she seemed reluctant to give. A family friend’s mom had the unfortunate maiden name of Judy Doodlesack. I start to get excited that maybe there’s a new doozy – or doodle – to trot out at parties. She shot me a stern look that was unmistakable in its meaning: “Do not say anything to what I’m about to tell you, wise-ass.” My wise ass was on the edge of its proverbial seat.

“Munch,” she offered tentatively, and then with more conviction, “it’s Munch.” Utter chaos in my sarcastic noggin juxtaposed with radio silence. One message locked itself in repeat: “Don’t react. Don’t react. Then what the hell’s your middle name? So many possibilities! Crap! Don’t react.” I doubt it was executed very well; my face likely appeared as though I had developed a temporary Tourette’s-like twitch. But I had to say something to hide my true reaction, which was about to bubble to the surface and betray me.

“Oh,” I interjected off-handedly, “is that German?” She half-smirked and again went back to her lines, signaling that query would be my last. Just as well – that was the entirety of my stash of awkward small talk disguising the freak out raging in my head. If you could have peeked inside the View-Master of my soul, you would’ve seen the Norwegian Munch’s painting “The Scream,” and maybe a random 3D bonus frame of He-Man battling Skeletor from “Masters of the Universe.” I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the utter perfection of the punch line, as if intuitively I’d known not to ask her last name until after the first weekend was in the can. Really, you just can’t write this stuff.

So that’s the story of the very first girl I ever kissed (yes, including college). In one glorious surname, all the hours and frustration of being on a bare bones student film set became worthwhile – and gifted me with a doodle of a story to trot out at parties. Mun

Sensational Scenes and Sounds by Smokie Lanark

Smokie Lanark — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 18:10:22 +0000

Let’s be honest. I am a movie whore. I will watch anything. Critically acclaimed or abominably cheesy, I am not a movie snob. I actually just paid money to see 17 Again and I am not ashamed to say I love that little Zach Effron, I want to pinch his cheeks (the ones on his face people, get your minds out of the gutter).

When I try to explain this to some (intellectual?), maybe they roll their eyes and sigh, visibly mourning my vacuity because I have just admitted to loving all of the Bring it On movies (whatever we all wish we could be those girls or bang them at least).

In all actuality I have more contempt for these “serious film critics” because it is not a crime to love to be entertained, be it by Apocalypse Now or Pineapple Express or something by Tyler Perry. And I am convinced that most of these people are closet Kelly Clarkson fans, Radiohead be damned.

I can usually find something redeemable in even the most banal of films. Good or bad movies always seem to have that moment, even if it’s fleeting and there is only one and there is a possibility it appeals to only me.

This is what I’m talking about, that moment in a film when scene and sound come together to create a visceral reaction in your body, a physical thrill, that WOW feeling when you are so totally engaged that the rest of the movie becomes a backdrop to this one moment.

You might not agree with my choices, you might roll your eyes and scoff at the titles but each of these scenes quite literally gave me The Chills.

I will start with a total chick flick because I am a chick and that just makes sense, She’s Having a Baby. Maybe they weren’t ready to be parents but know that the moment is upon them and we don’t know if mommy or baby will make it and all we want to do is put our arms around Kevin Bacon and tell him everything will be all right. The song is Kate Bush “This Woman’s Work”. I will admit I cried like a damn baby.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3dnFmwQy04

Almost Famous. If this is not on your list of top ten movies of all times I almost want to punch you in the junk but whatever, I’m not here to judge. If you have at least seen it you know where this is going, the crew has just physically removed the lead singer of Stillwater (played by Billy Crudup) from an all night house. He is coming down after plunging into the pool from the house’s rooftop, yelling about being a golden god. Did I mention he was like, super high? Not just because he was on the roof, but because he was on copious amounts of acid. The song is “Tiny Dancer” and everyone on the bus knows the words, therefore everything is going to be all right because who doesn’t love Elton John?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Qn3tel9FWU

Bret Easton Ellis was the leader of an illicit brat pack of eighties literature that included Jay McInerney of Bright Lights, Big City fame. Bret wrote Less Than Zero in a novel writing tutorial during his first year at college in 1983. It was published and he was an instant celebutante. The Rules of Attraction was his second novel and the resulting film is the source of this next clip. It’s fucking disturbing. The invisible food service girl has succumbed to the futility of her obsession with the campus bad boy in the worst way possible. The song is “Without You” by Harry Nilsson.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GAwi34vHyQ

Okay so maybe you thought Duets was lame, I mean it paired Huey Lewis with Gweneth Paltrow so I get it, but this ending sequence, an acapella version of Free Bird is insane, I could watch it over and over, never mind that the guy is an escaped convict who gets shot right after he finishes the song, that doesn’t make him a bad guy right?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81TZhHWM7yc

Jamie Fox in Collateral. He’s an innocent cab driver trying to make an extra buck. A grey haired Tom Cruise is a bad choice as the last fare of the day, but who can refuse an extra couple hundred bucks? The coyotes running across Fairfax are surreal enough but the Audioslave track is genius.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9qG52s3s2s

Who doesn’t want to be a vampire? They are everywhere, Twilight is some kind of insane phenomenon, but I’m talking about Queen of the Damned.

RIP Aaliyah; it is only my wishful thinking that you are still out there, feasting on the flesh of the innocent. Her dance, done to the song System by Chester Bennington is beyond hypnotic, I would have offered her my throat without question. Who wants to live forever? I do, especially if I am super hot and can dance like that.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGQSOSvssnM&feature=related

Quentin. What kind of a list would this be without him? There are so many choices. He is the king of the soundtrack, of making the movie with the music, or is it the other way around? Who am I to say? I picked this one because when I sit in the front seat I always, and I mean always used to, put at least one foot up on the dash. Who knew a leg could fly so fast and so far away from the body it used to belong to? Hold Tight is such a great song and who can resist a band by the name of Dave Dee Dozy Beaky Mick and Tich? I mean really?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iI8ciuj3QHg

Hate it or love it, my next article is all Quentin, all the time. The man is a freaky genius.

The best kind.

Enjoy.

Interview with Yuri Evlin (part 2)

Nate Barlow — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 14:00:02 +0000

Yuri Elvin is a talented artist and filmmaker in Los Angeles. View his work at www.yurielvin.com.

4. What are the similarities between painting and making movies? Of all the differences, what stands out the most?

Making movies is a collaborative effort. It is like a military operation: making a plan and following it through. I have found that, with my own films, I never give enough responsibility to anyone to make them a detrimental part of the schedule. When people work for free, they have to take care of themselves, things happen and people have responsibilities. Yes it is a control issue, but if I take care of the casting, scheduling, props, locations, food, and crew I tend to get my tapes at the end of the day. Of course I have to compromise certain aspects of the look. I have to trust the camera (which is why I try to get two of them). I have to trust the sound, and move the day along so that people do not get bored. I try to get the performances as well as the camera angles. The rest I trust in the universe to bring me genius in style through the hands of other people.

When I watch my dailies I remind myself to watch with an open mind. What I see in my head is not always what I get on tape. But, as they say, “the price is right.” Often by accepting the gifts of others time, it opens possibilities which would have never occurred had I dominated every breath of people within twenty feet.

Painting and drawing is a one-man show. When I make art I make it for me, being charged with every aspect of its creation…the texture, lighting, composition, motion, size and color all all mine. Accountability again falls upon the producer of the piece. The responsibility of creation is a big one. Yes, it can be a beautiful piece, but nothing lasts forever except our consciousness. Knowing that you will die and that the piece will eventually crumble to dust is a great relief, so powerful that I bring this aspect of fatalism to my personal life, and I embrace it happily.

When shooting a movie it is easy to compare people and tools. Crew members are brushes, knives, and colors among other things. Understanding that everyone is doing the best they can with what they are given allows for lenience in judgment, people have feelings and if you give them love and allow them expression, they will grow. As well, paint, colors, mediums, and implications have a vibration which needs to be nurtured. When a tool is used to the end of its life, it should be acknowledged and thanked for its help. To discard without love shows lack of appreciation and a hollow understanding of the gifts the universe has delivered. Personally, I have a very tough time using the color blue. I try, from time to time, to get it in there, yet it always feels forced. The frustration makes me respect it as an element that I have not understood and wish to learn to wield.

If I were to compare it to filming I would say that the intricacies of HD cameras, post production parameters and advanced editing and sound programs evade me; again, something to master. In film you can get someone who is better than you in the field you need (recommended), but in painting all you can do it try to grasp it. I suppose you could have someone come over and paint some blue on your piece, but that would be invasive and probably a little upsetting. I try to take the same approach to film as I do to painting…loose and rough. My art is admittedly very sloppy; I like it that way. When I gesso the canvas often times during the drying process I get dirt, feathers, and bugs stuck in the plaster; like the Chinese when they built the great wall, they used their dead as filler. If paint drips or I cut through the canvas, its all a blessing in this perfect state of imperfection.

Filming, I think that I may be all over the place at times. I feel that discontinuity to a level can be accepted as art. Mixing two different cameras with differing pedestals programmed is ok. I had to re-shoot a scene last month and lost an actor, but replaced him with a girl. The action is there, and the story moves forward. Eventually when there is more money available I can relinquish control and keep it straight; just trying to tell a story by following an outline. In art, often I have no idea what I am going to do. I just sit in front of a canvas and go, because if you don’t do anything, nothing will happen. Surrender to the process and let your sub-conscious take over. It becomes easier. I actually became ambidextrous at times, allowing the mind to draw what it wants. I believe that the artist within me is a female. I let her do her thing.

Film: same thing. Make a date and go. What’s going to happen is that at that end of the day you will end up with something. The art is to create. The combined energy of everyone on set, their mental fortitude and contentment will reflect upon the tape/film. Having been in film school forever and having worked in front and behind the camera for 12 years, I have either fought or watched a fight about everything there is to fight about. It’s not worth it…people are important. But, god bless Christian Bale for flipping like he did. I love him. And he is expensive for a reason. Don’t move lights behind him while he is acting, a little respect. Similarly, I flipped as an AD when crew was talking while we were rolling, even during MOS shots! A little respect people, please. We don’t flip anymore. (Thank God, it really puts people off).

5. If you had to choose one, which would it be?

For sure, I’d choose painting, for the mere reason that it is pure creation through divination. Even though both are extremely exciting, I find that both have an ego factor, and neither has a ceiling. That is probably why everyone I know is a nut. Film is a collaborative effort to create a vision. But painting is a direct reflection of what is going on inside. I guess when you can communicate your vision through film, you are actually reflecting as well…I guess it’s the same. But for me, I choose making art with my hands.

6. What are you working on at the moment?

I am shooting my movie every other weekend. I wrote about a madman love triangle (live action), mixed with an illustrated hyborian-aged story of mythology and war told in over the shoulder drawings about a karmic cycle concerning the madman narrated in English and Japanese by a blind child. I think its coming along pretty well. The crew is working for breakfast and tuna sandwiches, no budget, HD, dark comedy (maybe)…very fun. Additionally, I am writing a story about role-play gamers whose leader takes the game too far and begins to loose his flock (dark comedy as well). Painting-wise, I am working on a new series. I took a handful of previous work and painted over them with gesso…great texture. This group will be more universally dimensional than dark, and less human than before (maybe). The subconscious is an amazing conductor; I may have an intention, but then the mind will take it in a different direction if you allow her. At the same time, I am finishing up seven other paintings that I begun a few weeks ago which are half done, but are of a more creepy nature. Next, I’m going to begin another series on some larger (3′x4′) canvases that are works in progresses. I think I’ll do some sketches in the tone of Native American eagle-dancers and figures holding spheres on cold fire. We’ll see what happens.

On the job front, I am waiting for this pending SAG strike to end so that I can begin to collect my days in the locations department. I just got my teaching credentials but there is a hiring freeze on subs in California. So, I’m just selling everything in the house to buy more paint and pay the rent.

7. What’s your take on the current status of the industry as a whole and independent filmmaking in particular? What are your thoughts on the future?

The industry, well, it is really a shame that so many people are feeling this crash. As they say, the more you make the more you spend. This is very much a wake-up call to those who have over extended themselves financially. I think that when the economy in Hollywood does recover that people will be more frugal for many years to come, until they forget the lessons learned.

When I rediscovered art I began to sell everything non-art related. Not only has this saved me, but it has also kept me focused on writing, filming and painting. As an independent filmmaker I was answering ads for AD, PA, locations, storyboard, and muralist crew positions, to no avail. It turns out the entire town was as well. There are a lot of very talented people out there competing with each other for very few jobs. This is what got me moving. I realized that everyone was waiting for someone else to create the work, so I begun to create my project. Even though my crew is only eight deep, these people are available and excited to be a part of a project that is more personal. It is a chance for people to step up and preform in a position which is more coveted, as well having the time to do it. I am very fortunate to have good friends. I think that there is a shift happening right now. This is the time to be creative. It might actually be a gift. I know that for me it has been. The future holds the growth which we seed today. I believe that there are great things to come for anyone who has used this time wisely.

8. Where do you see yourself thirty years down the road, in your career and in life? Is there anything else you’d like to tackle?

In the future I see myself doing more of the same. God willing, with more exposure I can have the freedom to create on a larger scale, employ many people, and embark upon a body of work that will inspire as well as raise the consciousness of the planet to a loving place. I believe that my life is an epic tale. I have been through so much, misbehaved so badly, lost so many friends through pure self-abuse and immaturity. My wisdom comes as gifts from reading my own history. If I don’t learn the lessons life provides for me, I get kicked back down the pit of reflection and repair. Having run in circles for so long and being in so many fields has introduced me to many people and many experiences. All is not lost. I would like to write a book, an autobiography if I may be so vain. My life has been a ton of fun, heartache, humor and miracles. If I can help someone through lessons learned and make them laugh, maybe they will see life in a better light. After all, we are just a bunch of monkeys fighting for the same banana…but some monkeys have three eyes.

*****

To contact Nate Barlow, please visit the contact page of his website at: NateBarlow.com. To contact Yuri Evlin, email: , or check out his work at www.yurielvin.com.

My First Sundance: How I Inadvertently Became a Swag-Whore

Carissa Tedesco — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 10:03:42 +0000

“Hi. Carissa Tedesco: Filmmaker.” True.

Nyet! Not good enough.

“Hi. Carissa Tedesco, Programmer for the Delray Beach Film Festival.” Also true, also not good enough.

“Hi. Carissa Tedesco: Indiewire Magazine.”

Not true, but good enough to get me past the gatekeeper with the laptop and air of superiority; an ill-choice however, as I was under-prepared to speak further on the bullshit I’d just randomly pulled out of my own ass. They immediately assigned me a PR person to set up interviews for the mag.

Cue phantom cell phone ring. “Will you excuse me for one moment? I MUST take this.”

Note to self: polish singular lie.

“Hello. Carissa Tedesco: ABC-Good Morning America.”

“Oh hiiiiiiiiiiii! Will you be here with a camera crew?”

“No, just scouting. I’m a segment producer checking out possible locations to submit to our booker.”

Home run! A press pass for the lady, if you please.

I’m a great actress but a terrible liar. At least I was until Sundance. Lying is work. Investing energy to impress strangers is not part of my DNA. But if you’re not in, you’re out and I certainly wasn’t about to let some lemming with a list tell me I wasn’t important enough to be “in.” And so Carissa Tedesco – Producer for Good Morning America was born. Gaining access became this ridiculously fun, adrenaline-infused infiltration game; a challenge appealing to both my competitive spirit and “fuck-with-all-elitists-as-sport” sensibility. It’s inherently wrong that only the very rich, very famous, and very successful are bestowed upon glamorously with all-access, free everything, and an ass kissing just short of a rim job. Let it be known that every day girls like me love a good rim job too.

Oh, I started out humble. I was eternally grateful that I had a free place to stay (big ups to the lovely and exceedingly generous Dr. Michael Posner) and hoped against hope merely to get a filmmaker pass so that I could saturate my days with my compatriots and favorite people in all the land: the Filmmakers. That is, until I met…dummmm-da-dum-dum…“The Condo-mates”. Didn’t know each other prior-Doc Posner was the mutual connection. All were from low-A to high-B festivals, there hunting for films to program, sponsorship, etc. We arrived on the same day, made nice-nice, then headed out to tackle the beast at hand: ACCESS. Later that afternoon I stopped home and was feeling pretty triumphant that I had bullshitted my way into a Sundance press pass my first two hours out, and extra-thrilled that it came with a free bag, water and pen.

But not for long…

Re-enter the condo mates: Sundance veterans who (I later found out) bring empty duffle bags to carry home all their newly acquired riches. Not only did they return flush with several lanyards, but bragging rights to a TON, I repeat, TON of loot: ipods, Timberland mukluks, jewelry, VIP invitations, and more.
I was green-eyed jealous. More than that, I loathed having the moniker of a newbie-not-in-the-know. The silent air of superiority they maintained as well as the subtle conversational ways they kept information hush-hush for fear I’d try to glom on to them, drove me and my pride freaking bananas.

That lasted a New York minute.

I thought to myself, “I’m Carissa-fucking-Tedesco. I’ve been turning brick walls into red carpets my entire life. No way, no how is there a film, lounge, party, performance or gifting room that I cannot glide myself into with stealth-like proficiency; and without any help from anyone, thank you very much.

Game on!

Over the course of the next six days, with a Starbucks IV slung over my shoulder, I garnered eight passes (four of them press), nineteen wristbands, and all the sushi, Patron Silver, and Redbull I could swish around in my ever-burgeoning belly. And the “free everything and anything” didn’t stop there. On any given day I could be spotted carrying a bag full of Fred Segal ware, sex toys, Guitar Hero Three, and cosmetics promising to turn me back into a fetus. I saw John Legend, 50 Cent, and Acon perform live. I sat front row in the VIP section at Harry O’s and watched Quentin Tarantino receive the Kodak Award from Dennis Hopper. I ate at one of the most coveted tickets in town: Chef Dance (from the second course on anyway). I had a pass to The Yard, a restaurant daily serving breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snacks, where I could order anything I desired with no check at the end. (God? Is that you?) On my way out, I’d make two pit stops at Drugstore.com where I’d pick up Advil and condoms (my current ones, as usual, had expired) and then at Romance.com where I’d grab the largest vibrator they had (see above condom quote), perfume, candles and whatever else I could get my fat little fingers on. Later, after a full day of swag-snagging and creative storytelling, upon my sixtieth wind, I’d sit down for an early dinner at The Lift (another Yard-like restaurant), check my email at Hype Lounge while sipping Grey Goose, and sure, I’ll take some Frye Boots and Oakley Sunglasses while there. On and on it went; the lovely pink flush of excitement in my cheeks telling the tale. Or maybe it was the skipping and singing that gave me away? No matter. Nobody missed the girl floating three feet above ground through the snowy streets of Park City.

People who were actual press (not the majors but the C-listers and such) told me they’d tried for years to get just one press pass and here I was, on day two, with four. The condo-mates were impressed (read: baffled and jealous), simply shaking their heads after awhile, tired of asking, “How the hell did you manage that?!” Ah, what a sweet na-na-na-na-poo-poo victory it was. In the end it was I who won the unspoken swag-grab contest, with Guitar Hero Three putting me over the top for the win.

But then a funny thing started to happen…

After a few days I began to feel hollow and depressed. The oppressive thought that I’d been wasting all my time and utilizing the best of my abilities: charm, humor, wit and intellect, all for naught, started to creep in.

“Shut up Carissa. Weren’t you just elbow to elbow with Cash Warren and Jessica Alba in Fred Segal getting free $450.00 Love From Australia boots? And you’re freakin’ depressed?”

No. Screw that. Everybody was doing it, after all. Have you forgotten wandering into the Entertainment Tonight Lounge (more sushi and a free cashmere scarf) when Sarah Jessica Parker, Dennis Quaid, and Thomas Haden Church (who has an unusually large head by the way) were being interviewed? A mere hour after that there they were in Chez Fred getting their rim jobs so to hell with feeling shame and guilt about my marginally ok one!

Alas, the denial dam broke. Truth, for me, has always been inescapable.

Two weeks prior to Sundance I’d donated 30% of my possessions to charity and here I was squandering a goldmine of opportunity only to hoard more useless shit I didn’t need. Had I really utilized all that finesse for a jar of cream and a game? Who had I become? I don’t even own an Xbox 360. What the hell am I going to do with Guitar Hero Three and why did I want it so badly? Why didn’t I choose instead to take all that God-given opportunity and ability to actually do something? Create something?

Well, I’ll tell you why. Who gives a shit if they don’t let me in to a gifting lounge or party? What do I lose? Nothing. Nada. Stugotz. But a director I worship, a producer I ache to work with, or a theatrical agency I long to be a part of telling me “No”? Oh, no. Too much risk. The rejection, far too paralyzing. That danger, when it means something…when it means everything to me, feels like another small death upon a lifetime of them. Dramatic, I know. Trust me; it rings equally pathetic to my own ears. The best way I can elucidate the feeling is with this Bible verse: Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but desire fulfilled is a tree of life. Twenty years of deferred hope, with a bank account reflecting as much, will break the backbone of even the strongest-willed. For once, I just wanted to play a game on an even playing field; a game where I knew I’d win and to the victor goes the spoils. It was nice to feel rich and important for six days: to succeed, to win. Yea, that’s it. It was really nice to win.

After a couple of weeks being back home in LA, I smacked myself in the back of my own head. I mean really… Boo-freaking-hoo. Like I didn’t have THE most amazing time at my first Sundance. Reflecting upon my trip, I realized that coming home with a couple of thousand dollars worth of merchandise I could never afford to buy on my own was nothing to feel guilty about. My first Sundance really was the experience of a lifetime. After all, I met fabulously interesting and creative filmmakers who could soon be my colleagues, listened in on conversations with people in the biz whom I most respect, and witnessed some amazing talent in the most intimate of settings. Beyond the swag, it was a truly inspiring trip. But more importantly? It woke my ass up.

Ironically, less than one year later, I am officially invited as press to cover the Delray Beach Film Festival. My assignment is to produce and host an Entertainment Tonight-style video show in which I’ll be interviewing the filmmakers and celebrities, covering parties, workshops, and all other events. I reflect upon my Sundance experience as I’m about to board the plane to Florida and I am grateful to have the opportunity to utilize my talents in a way that makes me proud. It may take me a minute (or 15) to get a grip, but I actually do live, learn, and change accordingly.

I’ll be at Sundance again next year and yes, I’ll still swag-whore-it a bit. Who am I kidding? Free shit rocks! This time however, I really will be press. So if you see a crazy brunette Italian girl running around with a microphone and a divide and conquer look in her eyes, say hello and yell out,“Hey Tedesco! It’s about time you got your shit together!”

By the way…

I’m selling Guitar Hero Three dirt cheap if you know anybody.

************

To learn more about Carissa Tedesco, check out her Bio on the About Us page!

THE WRITTEN LA:  If You Can Make Babies, Don’t Touch My Edemame.

Lalla Robinson — Sun, 31 Jan 2010 17:48:52 +0000

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.

Good Luck, Paramount!

Mark Stolaroff — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 03:00:44 +0000

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!)

My Relationship With LA

Sam Mestman — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 21:20:26 +0000

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.

How Come Romantic Comedies Rarely, If Ever, Have Sequels?

Benjamin Eaglin — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 05:53:21 +0000

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?

Short Film Scriptwriting – Keep It Fresh

Roberta Marie Munroe — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 18:22:11 +0000

After watching thousands (yes, thousands) of short films there a quite a few stories that tend to stand out -- and not in a good way. A great short has a solid story, interesting characters and seemingly high production values. Whether you have a fat budget or not, whether it’s a narrative, documentary, animation or experimental the required elements for success are the same.

You have to keep the audience waiting to see what’s going to happen next. You do not want them knowing exactly what’s going to happen next because the script relies on predictable and clichéd story lines. Get busy, get creative, and get re-writing.

It’s my life’s purpose to see that every filmmaker embarking on creating a short film has all the tools they require to succeed. This list below are some clichés to avoid:

Tracking shot of feet (running through forest, walking across wooden floor, clicking against the pavement).
Loser stalks girl, has overweight friend who smokes and swears a lot, ultimately gets girl.
Kid gets thrown out of house for being gay.
Woman masturbates (or simply breathes heavy) while reciting poetry.
People having sex (fully clothed) in positions where it would be impossible.
Soldiers from different sides of the war must make allegiances (looks like you shot it in Griffith Park).
Modern dance sequence in midst of troubled narrative.

Break-up film with close up shots of happy couple photos that ends with sad, tragic walk on the beach at dusk (or in the rain) with unlicensed Cold Play playing behind credits.
Guys sit around doing cocaine talking about making a movie about their lives.

Believe, my friend -- it will be painfully obvious that you’ve watched Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, The Royal Tenenbaums, Dodgeball and Schlindler’s List twenty times. What festivals, agents, managers and, most importantly, audiences are looking for is a director with a fresh vision and the ability to successfully and economically accomplish this great feat.

Here’s my top 10 tips for script revision:

Assess each secondary character and if they don’t make a significant contribution to the story -- cut them.
If your budget is less than $15,000 limit yourself to 2 locations.
Rethink scenes where you have more than one actor in a moving car.
Look for repetitions -- does your lead say the same thing but in a different way. i.e. “Dude, she left and I’m devastated” later repeating “I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.” Give your audience the courtesy of creating their own emotions and make the dialogue so compelling the first time around that you don’t need to reiterate it to make your point.
If your script is about the relationship between 2 (or more) straight or gay men think outside the box. Straight men do more than bowl, play pool, drink beer, and generally speak more than one sentence at a time.
If your script is about the relationship between 2 (or more) straight or gay women, again, think outside the box. Women tend to create dialogue delving into the subject head-on -- allow your female characters the depth they deserve.
Without question, unless your budget is at least $40,000, avoid battle fields, bar scenes, and anything that requires the audience to believe there are more than 7 people in the scene.
Investigate your locations! It will be obvious you, the writer, have never been to a basketball shoe marketing meeting when you have a location that looks like an insurance company board room.
When asking outside help for script evaluation, evaluate the people you’re asking. Make sure to be very clear on what kind of notes you are seeking. You want to hear both what they liked and what they thought didn’t work. Many a writer/director has been dropped into a pit of suicidal depression when friends or colleagues send back a ‘critiques’ of their script. If you can’t afford to hire a professional consultant, make sure you protect your work with clear guidelines.
The number most important things you want people to get when reading your script is WHO these people are, WHAT they’re doing and WHERE they’re doing it. Be concise, but also be descriptive, for example: ROBERTA MUNROE, 43, mixed race Black woman, voluptuous and stylishly dressed, sits poolside at the Standard Hotel bar sipping a scotch on the rocks.

Find out more about the dos and don’t of making a successful piece in Roberta Munroe’s book, the bible for short filmmakers, How Not To Make A Short Film: Secrets From A Sundance Programmer.

Live Show Review: Trevor Hall CD Release Party

Sean Costello — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 19:50:30 +0000

I didn’t know much about Trevor Hall, outside of hearing a couple tunes on his Myspace page and reading his bio. Liking what I heard, I decided to go to his CD release party at the Hotel Café on Thursday.

Trevor Hall is one of those amazingly gifted musicians you have to see live to get the full experience! He started the show with a tribal chant that quickly reeled in a large crowd filled with many friends and family. By the second song, Trevor, Chris Steele on drums, and “Super” Mario on bass took the audience on a sonically delicious, lyrically nutritious, 75 minute, reggae n roots influenced, spiritual journey.

In the song “Ghosts”, he sang about rising up to meet the day and overcoming life’s obstacles. Chris Steele switched to a Cajon drum laying down a soothing percussive beat that kept the song flowing. For the song “Origami Crane,” which is a symbol for long life, prosperity and good health, Trevor deftly played melodica and sang “Which way do you fold your origami crane? Does it sing in your heart? Does it fly in your brain?” This could easily be interpreted as a reference to his music and how it makes you feel.

On the Indian titled “Om Shakti Om”, Trevor’s father joined the band on stage in singing the chorus. At this point, the audience was fully in tune with the joyous atmosphere, clapping, singing and dancing to the music. The band truly enjoys playing music and performing in front of a crowd. Trevor sang “No more you and me, no more they and we…” in a song called “Unity” about bringing the world together through love, good will and by embracing the diverse beauty of the human race. The second to last song of the night was a rousing, defiant rock anthem called “Sing the Song” about living life to the fullest – not letting anything hold you back. “Give me the strength to stand-Lift me from this quicksand.” “Righteousness rise with the strength of the thunder.”

Trevor sings, writes and performs from the heart and he truly believes in his music and lyrics. In Trevor’s words, “Music is my savior. Music is my lover.” After being a part of a Trevor Hall show, the collective experience of peace, love and all around stellar vibes left a lasting positive effect long after the show.