R.A. Denny's Blog, page 4

Strings of Fear: Behind the Scenes

The impact on those involved in the journey of making the film Strings of Fear was probably more lasting than any impact the film will ever have on any individual who watches it.   It makes me wonder if that is true of all films and something that those of us who watch the finished product can never fully understand.   For instance, I read an interview of Steven Spielberg where he talked about how he had wept as he watched young German actors joining Israelis to celebrate Passover on break during the making of the film Schindler’s List.  Just imagine how moving it would have been to be a part of that.  Pick the movie that has the most meaning for you and think of what it would have been like to be a part of making that movie.   Wow!

As a low budget Indie, Strings of Fear was filmed in nine straight days from 7 in the morning until 11 at night.   The whole experience was unforgettable.  Remember, I was working at the time as a prosecutor of juvenile delinquents, so it was incredibly refreshing to be surrounded by such talented and creative youth.  In between scenes, I would find many of them around a piano they found in the school hallway, composing songs.

Two particular incidents stand out for me.  At one point, about half way through filming,  I was talking with two of the young actors, explaining that many of the bullying scenes were based on a compilation of real life incidents from cases I had handled, and the newer cast member commented on how cruel people can be and how awful it was.   This particular actor had been recommended for his part by the other one, who had informed me that he knew a talented actor who was perfect for the role.  Just making conversation, I asked about how they had known each other, since they currently went to different schools.  That’s when the conversation got interesting:

“We used to know each other in middle school, we were friends and used to spend a lot of time at each others houses,” the one boy commented.

“Yeah, we hung out a lot together back then,”  the other answered in a matter of fact way.

“So, then in high school, we sort of stopped hanging out.”

“Yeah, you know, I don’t really remember why, but we didn’t really hang out any more in high school.  I guess I ran with a different crowd.”

This was followed by awkward silence.  Then, a sudden wide eye flash of knowledge crossed the newest cast member’s  face.

“Wait a minute.  I can’t believe this.   I treated you like that.  Wow.   I’m playing me, aren’t I?  Man, I’m really sorry.  I never should have treated you like that.  I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, hey don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t believe this.  I never realized it.  I never should have treated you like that.  I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks man.  It’s okay.”

I felt privileged to watch that moment of acknowledgement and reconciliation.   In that moment, I realized that if not a single person ever watched the film, it had served its purpose.

The next incident was equally as memorable in its own way.  The cast member who had auditioned off the street at the behest of his grandmother had trouble getting to rehearsals on time or at all.  I didn’t know a lot about his current living situation, about all I knew was that he had grown up in the inner city.   I also knew he really wanted to be a part of the cast, so I guessed that he might be having transportation issues.   When he confirmed for me that this was the case, I offered to let him stay at my house for the duration of the actual filming.  He had signed up for the military, but based on a letter from my office, he had been granted an extension of time before he would have to report for training.  Now, I didn’t know much about him, so I went out on a limb inviting him to stay at my house.  Still it’s not like I was alone in the house, since my two sons were there and so was the film crew.  He accepted the offer, and I will never forget the conversation when we were travelling to my house in the car that evening after dark.

“So what made you decide to go into the military?”  I asked, making polite conversation.

“I don’t know, I guess I just really like guns.  I love all kinds of guns, I always have.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I love to shoot guns.  Sometimes I…”

Now, I can’t remember what he started to tell me, but I do know that I realized it was something I did not exactly want to be hearing.  Whatever it was he said, it had made me very uncomfortable.

“Hold on…you know what I do for a living, right?”  I said, cutting him off.

“No, what are you a teacher or something?”

That was when I realized that he had probably not been present at the orientation meeting where I had explained that I was a criminal prosecutor and the purpose of the film was to prevent bullying and portray the relationship between bullying and crimes.  That was one of the rehearsals he had missed due to transportation issues.

“Weren’t you at the meeting, where I explained what I do?”

“No.  What do you do?”

“I’m a criminal prosecutor.  I put kids in jail.”

I was driving along through a suburban neighborhood.  The car was moving.  He instantly grabbed for the handle of the door, as if to open the door to jump out.  He hesitated, tensely, his hand on the handle.

“You’re the man.  I hate people like you.  I can’t do this.”

I didn’t know what to say.  Minutes before we were having a friendly conversation and he was on his way to be a guest at my house.  Now,  he was calling me “the man,”  and practically jumping out of my car.

I’m not sure how the rest of the conversation went, but I know he didn’t say much.  When we got to the house, he went inside and within minutes was outside privately speaking with one of the film crew.  He told me later that the film crew member had convinced him to give me a try since I had been nice enough so far.

So we both gave it a try.  I had a new kitten who starred as Mr. Whiskers in the film.  That young man gently cared for the kitten.  He was kind, polite and respectful the entire time he stayed at my house.  In fact, as it turned out, during some tense moments in the filming process he was the person I turned to for encouragement.  To top it all off, his performance was brilliant.  He even ended up ad libbing several memorable scenes.  Yet, from my work, I had learned not to trust people with experiences like him, and he had been taught on the streets not to trust people with jobs like mine.   I’m so glad we gave each other a chance!

Bullying is an abuse of power.  Sometimes the person is trying to be popular and fails to open his eyes to the impact his actions are having on another person.  Other times it is about judging other people without getting to know them.  I produced Strings of Fear to try to teach people about bullying, but in the process, I ended up learning lessons myself.  Little did I know how much I would learn about bullying first hand after the film was made.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Created with a Purpose

I have a brilliant friend who is a devout Orthodox Jew.  Many years ago, I was privileged to be invited to light the Menorah Candles at his family’s Hanukkah celebration and he came to my parent’s house to help decorate our Christmas tree.   The story of how he came to his faith is a moving and fascinating one, but I’m not going to tell it in this post.  He and I have always shared a mutual respect for each other’s beliefs.  This friend recently recommended that I read The Great Partnership: Science, Religion and the Search for Meaning by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks.  Once I started reading it, I had difficulty putting it down.  The book is beautifully written and therefore any summary cannot do it justice.

To summarize the first part of the book, Rabbi Sacks contends that Science and Religion are compatible because they have different purposes.   Science, like the left brain, primarily breaks things down into their parts, while Religion, like the right brain, primarily joins people together in relationships to tell a story and give meaning.  “Science takes things apart to see how they work.  Religion puts things together to see what they mean.”  Interestingly, if you read my last post, which I authored  before I read Sacks’ book, I described the actions taken by God in Genesis: God separated, then gathered together and gave purpose.   The emphasis on stories also reminded me of the need for human beings to tell stories described by G.K. Chesterton in his book, The Everlasting Man.

Sacks sets forth two views of the human situation, one in which life is meaningless and the other that claims that life is meaningful.  The facts he gives are the same in both scenarios, but one view says there is no “Why?” while the other view answers the question of “Why”  by saying that someone, not part of the universe, created the universe, out of a selfless desire to make space for others.  Sacks describes humans as meaning seeking animals.  Yet the search for meaning has nothing to do with science and everything to do with religion, since science studies the systems of nature while meaning must come from outside the system.   Without God, humanity is left with unending despair.  Yet we can’t prove life has a meaning.  Two people may be looking at their lives, and one will tell a story with a connecting thread, where every decision has meaning that relates to a calling, while the other describes a series of events with no purpose.  Neither can be proven.   People may agree about the facts, but disagree about their interpretation.

All of this reminds me of one of my all time favorite passages from any book, the speech Puddleglum gives after stepping on the green witch’s fire to momentarily break her spell in the underworld in The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis:

“One word, Ma’am,” he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. “One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one more thing to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things-trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s a small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.”

This weekend I had the privilege of hearing part of a conversation my younger son was having with my father about his experiences during World War II.    After being drafted, my father’s first major decision was to join the Navy.  Then once he completed basic training, he was told that his testing showed he should become a rear gunner and navigator on planes off of aircraft carriers in the Pacific.  My Dad’s response was that he would “rather put people back together than take them apart.” which led to him being offered the option of going to Hospital Corps training in San Diego.  He chose the Hospital Corps.  At one point, a line was drawn on an alphabetical list and all the men above the line were deployed into dangerous missions with the Fleet Marine Force.  Dad’s name was the first one beneath the line.    (Many people do not realize that the Navy supplies the medics for the marines.   In the Pacific during World War II, Japanese snipers were trained to shoot medics first).   Next, in 1945, he chose to attend Operating Room Techniques training in Corpus Christi, Texas,  which lasted for six months.  On August 6, 1945 the bomb was dropped and the war ended, just before his training would have been completed and he would have been deployed to the Pacific Theatre.

After hearing his story, my son and I were both struck by the same realization.  The decisions my father made when he chose the Navy, and at every junction thereafter, and such seemingly random actions as the line drawn above his name all could have meant the difference between life and death for my father.  If things had happened differently, we might not have ever been born.   My father did not tell his story as a random set of events, but as a story with meaning.  It made us feel like we were here in this world for a purpose.  Now we could conclude differently, we could interpret it all as a set of coincidences without meaning.  It is our choice.  I choose to believe I am here for a reason and that my life has a purpose.