Gorman Bechard's Blog, page 6

Are you really a “filmmaker?” Let’s find out…

A few questions for the filmmakers in the audience.  How many films by Jean Luc Godard have you seen?  What about Charlie Chaplin?  D.W. Griffith?  Have you watched Fritz Lang’s “M?”  What about Alfred Hitchcock, quick name me 20 of his films right off the top of your head.  (That’s right, twenty.)  What about Fellini, De Sica, Antonioni, how many of their films have you seen?  What’s your favorite Ingmar Bergman film?  Do you prefer Harold Lloyd’s “Safety Last” or Buster Keaton’s “The General?”  What films were most influenced by Kurosawa’s “Seven Samauri.”  Which is your favorite Ozu film?  Your favorite Truffaut?  Preston Sturges or Frank Capra, and why?  How many times have you watched each Luis Bunuel film, and which is your favorite?  Which is your favorite film about filmmaking: “8 1/2,” “Day For Night,” “Contempt,” “Man With The Movie Camera,” or something else?

I could easily go on and on.  But the problem with most young filmmakers today, they’d have no way to answer any of those questions.  They wouldn’t have a clue.  Sure, ask them about Tarantino, or Scorsese, or David Lynch, or Wes Anderson, and they could recite you passages from their film.  (Sorry to break it to you, “The Royal Tenenbaums” is not the greatest film of all time.)  But unfortunately films did not begin in the 70s.  If anything, the 70s are one of the most overrated period in the history of film, with the lone exception being the films of Woody Allen.

Cinematographers should be paying attention as well.  On “You Are Alone” I worked with a DP who didn’t even know Bergman’s “Persona,” one of the most influential films of all time, especially in terms of the way it was shot.  And even when I lent him the DVD, he still didn’t watch it, which is why I ended up using about 40% B-camera in the final edit.  As least the B-cameramen (there were three in all) had a clue as to what I was talking about.  One of the things I love about Adrian Correia, who shot my film “Friends (with benefits),” is that when I reference: “you know that scene in in ‘The Third Man’ when Orson Wells is standing in the doorway and the cat rubs against his shoe…?” and yes, he knows exactly what scene I’m talking about, and he can replicate the lighting exactly, or at least incorporate elements into the scene we’re shooting.  That’s what you want in a DP.  Someone who knows every beautifully shot scene that came before them.

How anyone can make a film, or even want to make a film, without knowing as much as possible about what came before is a mystery to me?  Just as how anyone can make a comedy without studying Chaplin?  How anyone can make a horror film without knowing every frame of “Psycho?”  (It sure seems as if people are repeating the schlocky horror formula of the 80s over and over again, ad nauseam, without a clue as to what is truly frightening, or compelling, or even entertaining…and yes, I’m talking to you CT filmmakers and people who seem to think “found footage” is a genius idea.)  How in God’s name can anyone film a character with swagger without having marveled at Belmondo in “Breathless?”  How can you film sexy without knowing Bardot?  How can you film a battle scene without having studied Kurosawa?  How can you film heartbreak without studying De Sica?  How can you break the rules without having seen “Citizen Kane?”

You can’t.

(Don’t try to argue, otherwise your answer to the above set of questions becomes, “It’s easy because I’m an idiot.”)

It’s why the majority of films today are so freaking bad.  And why the few filmmakers who are worth anything are such film geeks at heart.  Tarrantino and Lynch are great because their knowledge of film history is vast.  They know what works and what doesn’t because they’ve seen it before.  They know how to break the rules, because they’ve studied the rules.  Even Woody Allen understands that 90% of his humor comes from Chaplin and Groucho Marx, and his technique from Bergman.  He’s admitted as much countless times.  Knowing and understanding film is what makes their films classic.

You don’t even have to like them.  But you need to have seen them.  Not all, but at least a respectable amount, and as you get older you need to keep watching and learning.  I personally detest the films of Stanley Kubrick.  I think he’s made three watchable films.  Two starred Peter Sellers, so I give Sellers all the credit.  The other, “Paths of Glory,” was based upon a story that was so strong, even Kubrick couldn’t fuck it up.  (Yes, I know he’s listed as co-writer, but again, so was Jim Thompson.  So, who really wrote the script?)  But y’know what, I’ve seen all of his films.  I still give him the benefit of the doubt because so many filmmakers I respect in turn respect him.  I’m missing the Kubrick gene.  For me watching “2001” might be like watching paint dry, just as Godard is for a number of my filmmaking friends.  But we all understand the importance.  We all understand the history.  We understand they wrote the rules, broke the rules, crossing dangerous seas in the name of creating a new world of art.

And perhaps you don’t want to make art.  Perhaps you don’t want to make stories that resonate.  Perhaps you don’t want to shoot frames that take your breath away, endings that leave the viewer speechless.  Perhaps you’re content making “movies” (they certainly aren’t films) with your friends that only you and your friends will ever enjoy, or see for that matter.  (Putting your “masterpiece” up on YouTube does not count as distribution.)  If that’s the case, please stop reading my blog.  I’m not writing it for you.

I see so many films that held promise.  A great story.  A great cast.  But it’s wasted by mediocre filmmaking.  It’s ruined by people who have never studied great storytelling, so they haven’t a clue as to what to do with the full-of-potential tale in their proverbial lap.  How many times have I watched a documentary and thought, damn if only this story had been told by Errol Morris, if would have been brilliant.  The story was certainly there, but the filmmaking talent needed to tell it, was no where to be found.  Perhaps if the filmmakers had studied Morris, or Maysles, or Pennebaker, or even Alex Gibney, and took apart their technique to see how a story can and should be told (and there are as many ways to tell a story as there are stories), the film would not have had me scratching my head, wondering how such a captivating tale could end up so damn dull.

We all learn from history.  In politics, sports, hell, in our everyday family life.  Film is no different.  We learn from the successes and mistakes of others.  And for anyone to pick up a camera and try to make a film…for anyone to call themselves a filmmaker…without having studied the classics, what came first, is nothing short of stupid.  (It’s not brave, it’s not taking a risk, unless you consider walking right into the line of enemy fire naked and unarmed brave.) If you haven’t studied some of the filmmakers mentioned in here (and or course there are so many others who made a difference that I have not the time nor space to list), you’re not a filmmaker.  Not even close.  You’re a sad wannabe hack who wouldn’t know a story if it bit you on the ass.  And while that may sound harsh, I’m a bit cranky from watching too many miserable films from people who think they can direct (mumblecore, I’m talking to you).  Go back to square one.  Learn your history.  Understand what made Fellini or Hitchcock or Sturges great.  Only then will you perhaps be able to apply such knowledge to your own work.  Only then will you be able to make a film that is actually worth watching.  Only then will you be deserving of the title “filmmaker.”

Yes, I love Nikon cameras!

Nikon arm tattoo.  Designed by Kevin Stiles.

 

How not to be a filmmaking douche bag – part 3

I’m always searching ebay for old manual AI or AIS Nikkor lenses in really mint condition.  I recently came across a listing for a bunch of them that had been used on a feature.  They were being sold as a package for a very good price.  (No, I mean a VERY VERY good price.  Like a crazy good deal.  A starting bid of about 30% of what they could possibly sell for.  Even the Buy It Now price was a steal.)  But only their focal length was listed, as in 85mm, 50mm, 35mm, etc..  No f-stop.  No condition.  No other details.

So I messaged the seller.

He asked for my phone number.  I gave him the office number.  He never called.

A few days later I get this message via ebay:

“I listed the numbers on line, they work well and thats all I know about them.”

I looked.  And sure enough the f-stops were now listed.  Not correctly.  But if you knew lenses, you knew what the seller was talking about.

I wrote back:

“Thanks.  You probably should find out about any imperfections on the lenses though, as I’m pretty sure people will ask.”

To which he quickly replied:

“If they r good enough to film a sold movie they are good enough like they are. “

At this point I’m thinking I’m sure this guy waited on me in an old Circuit City.

So I write back:

“Hardly, otherwise they would have sold by now.  Some people don’t care about dust inside the lens, or hairline scratches, but these all change the value of the lens.  A MINT 24mm could sell in the $500 range alone, one with dust, or oil on blades, or fungus, would be $200, maybe less.  And that’s the same for every lens.  So makes a huge difference.

But that’s just coming from someone who has 11 feature films that have been distributed, so what would I know?

Good luck with that attitude.”

OK, I was a little sarcastic.  But really, he deserved it.   (He deserved a kick in the face.)  He was the seller.  And I was asking very legit questions.  And if he wants to toss his “sold film” out there and play that game, so be it.

Looked up this “sold film” by the way.  Released in 2010.  No imdb reviews or stars.  But it was on Amazon Instant Video.  The 7 reviews were exactly what you’d expect.

He writes back, and I kept the spelling in tact:

“Oh name your films,  and if you were worth a shit you would not be looking on eBay for used lens.,,lol. Looser”

And he actually signed his name, as if it meant anything.

Now, I know I get relatively “loose” when I get a few drinks in me, but I’ve never been called a “looser.”  So I’m completely confused at this point.  Especially about the fact that this dude with a “sold film” is selling HIS damn lenses on ebay, so what the fuck is he talking about.

(The Urban Dictionary by the way defines “looser” as: “Idiotic way of spelling ‘loser.’ Most often used by teens and adults with no more than a 2nd grade grammar level.”  Seemed to fit.)

So, despite knowing better, I wrote back…

“Wow, you are rude and childish, especially to someone who had been thinking about buying the lens package and was asking legitimate questions about the lenses.

We run an indie production company.  We do many documentaries as well as narratives.  We film with DSLRs and are always looking for old manual Nikkor lenses.  Since they are not manufactured anymore, it’s sort of the only way to get them.

As for films.  Well, our best known one is our documentary on The Replacements, “Color Me Obsessed,” which played the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (you can check the screening list on the site for the other places it screened), and hit #11 on Billboard charts when DVD was released.  http://www.ColorMeObsessed.com

Our imdb: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1546381/

Really, man.  The attitude is uncool.”

Could I have been a lot nastier?  Yes, of course.  He certainly deserved it.  But why bother?  You can’t argue with assholes and crazy people.

So, the filmmaking lesson to be learned here?  Put the fucking attitude away.  No matter where you are: at your world premiere at some film festival or trying to sell a lens on ebay or anywhere in between.  There’s no reason for it.  You never know whom you’re speaking with, or who will hear you.  And you’ll end up being just another douchebag filmmaker.  And though you might never have any fans for your work, you certainly will never be alone.

P.S. I waited to post this until the auction was over so I could gladly report that those lenses didn’t sell.

And since I know you’re dying to read them.  Here are parts ONE and TWO of how not to be a filmmaking douche bag.  Guess I’m going to have to make it a series.

If you want to meet industry professionals…

You want to be involved in film.  Whether in front of the camera, or behind.  But you don’t know where to start really.  Where to meet like-minded people.  People you can learn from, work with.  Filmmakers, actors, writers, producers.

Let’s start this lecture by me telling you where NOT to start: These so-called “Film Mixers” or “Film Industry Conferences” or whatever their promoters are calling them today.   They truly piss me off.  They are nothing but a rip-off for these people who sincerely want to work in film.  Their promoters take advantage of that desire, and what do they deliver in return?  Absolutely nothing.

Look at the people running these things.  Have you every heard or seen any of their films?  (If you have, did you actually make it all the way through before shutting the damn thing off?)  Have you seen films based on their scripts?  Do their acting abilities make you jealous?  Is there anything about their careers that makes you say: “Yes, that’s what I want for my life?”  Most likely not.  Most likely the people running and speaking at these meetups and mixers are not working full time in the film industry.  Mostly likely they’re producing wedding videos, or doing something completely unrelated to film to pay their bills.  Most likely they’re very similar to you, except that they’ve figured out a way to get you to pay $50 to listen to them speak.

Really, you are not going to find working filmmakers speaking at these things.  You know why?  We’re too busy making films.  And we respect the process way too much to watch innocent people get ripped off.  (It’s sort of like an agent or a producer’s rep who charges you for their services in advance.  Or a producer who charges you to audition.  NEVER.  NEVER.  NEVER pay fees in advance.  It’s the biggest scam in the business.)

You want to learn about film?  You want to rub elbows with filmmakers?  You want to hand a filmmaker your business card?  Then go to places where real filmmakers go: film festivals. And granted not every state has many films fests.  My home state of Connecticut really has only one real fest at this point, and it’s the nationally sanctioned 48-hour Film Fest.  But still, put that $50 instead into the team admission fee and actually make a film.  Not only will you be “mixing” with filmmakers, you’ll have something to show for it at the end.

But most states have great film festivals.  Big cities absolutely.  If you’re in Boston, New York, Seattle, LA, San Francisco, or Chicago, for instance, there are a bunch.  And most likely at these festivals you will find the director or producer or cast member from the film you just watched.  So, right off, you know their work.  You’ve just watched it.  You know if they’re someone you might someday want to work with, or someone you’d actually want to learn from.  (I’ve seen Godard do a Q&A after a screening at the NY Film Festival.  It was like watching God speak.)  And after the film, after the Q&A (ask a great question so the filmmaker remembers you), walk up to the filmmaker, offer to buy them a beer, or ask them for their email address, or just shake their hand and tell them you loved their film.  (That alone is more “mixing with a filmmaker” than you’ll get at any “mixer.”)  Talk them up.  They are there to schmooze, just as you are.  And they are in a position you want to one day be in.  Find out how they got there.  Pick their brain.  Trust me, filmmakers love talking about making their film.  Get a few beers in them, and you’ll have a lecture that will beat anything you’ll get in film school.

Or if a filmmaker lives in your area, reach out.  We all have websites.  We all have “email us” buttons.  There are a bunch of film students who reach out to me every year.  I’ll usually meet them for coffee in downtown New Haven, and answer their questions for an hour or so.  In a few cases this has led to me bringing them onto my film projects.

(Just don’t do what someone did a few months back.  They wanted to learn about making documentaries.  I agreed to meet them down town.  After sitting in the coffee shop for 30 minutes, I finally left.  When I got to my car there was an email from them telling me they’d over slept and could they come down now or reschedule.  The answer was no.  You don’t oversleep if something is important.  And my time is worth a lot more than that.  Remember the filmmaker is doing YOU the favor.  Not the other way around.)

Also, never be afraid to ask.  There really are no stupid questions.  Sarah Hajtol designed the FRIENDS (WITH BENEFITS) poster, then the COLOR ME OBSESSED, A FILM ABOUT THE REPLACEMENTS poster and its amazing website.  But she then told me she wanted to learn to shoot.  I handed her a camera, and she shot all of the B-Camera for COLOR ME OBSESSED, and has gone on to be my go-to camera person for documentaries, shooting what is truly the most amazing footage in my Archers of Loaf concert film, as well as the majority of the footage for both EVERY EVERYTHING: THE MUSIC, LIFE & TIMES OF GRANT HART (which premieres in the US in October) and , my animal rights doc currently in production.  During the production of COLOR ME OBSESSED she also asked about editing, and went on to not only design our kick-ass title sequence, but be my assistant editor on the film.

Or if there are no filmmakers in your town (and I’m sure there are), answer an ad on CraigsList or Mandy.com or whatever site in your area which hosts posts from filmmakers looking for Production Assistants.  Work on a film as a PA.  You might not get paid, but you’ll get fed, and not waste $50.  And you’ll actually see how a film is made, and meet people who are actually making them.  (But please first read my post on how to behave as a PA on a film set.)

Or watch audition notices in places like BackStage or Casting.com.  Go on as many auditions as you can.  Really, what better way to meet filmmakers, and other actors.  Even if you are trying out for the same part, the majority of you are in the same boat, you’re not going to get it.  If you want to work crew, check those same notices and tell the filmmakers about your passion for film, and how you want to learn.  Guess what, passion trumps almost anything in art.  You’ll be on set, working on a film, surrounded by people who are doing what you want to do.  (Not people who are talking about doing what you want to do.  There are those who talk, and those who do.)

What I’m trying to say (aside from saving you $50) is to “mix” with people who actually make films.  Films you respect.  Otherwise you’re paying good money to meet with people who are more or less no different than you…because the people you’re actually “mixing” with are the other people who paid $50 and are sitting next to you in the lecture hall.  It might make for interesting conversation, but it certainly won’t advance your career.

A Masterpiece for a post-Hüsker Dü World

As a disclosure, let me state that I am director of the upcoming Grant Hart documentary EVERY EVERYTHING. But that said, if I didn’t truly love this record I would write nothing at all. As even my closest friends know, if they ask for an opinion from me, I will give it to them truthfully. I’m not one to sugar coat, or ever tell people what they want to hear.

Next, so you know where I stand, I believe these to be indisputable facts:

1. Hüsker Dü and The Replacements are the two most important rock bands of the past 32 years. That every single band that picked up a guitar and rocked post 1987 owes everything to these two bands. They saved rock and roll at a time when even punk had completely lost its edge and become new wave. So that is the regard in which I hold the members of these two bands.

2. Just as the Beatles had two great singer/songwriters in Lennon and McCarthey, Hüsker Dü had Mould and Hart. There is no Hüsker Dü without Grant Hart. He is as important to the band as Mould, and just as good a songwriter. As for their post-Hüsker Dü careers, Hart might not have been as prolific, but he delivered “2541″ and “The Main,” which for me are the two best post-breakup songs.

Now, onto The Argument.

This is a vast, impressive work. Hardly a collection of pop tunes that you can play on your car’s stereo system and listen to at leisure…at least not at first. In taking on a book most of us could not even get through the Cliff Notes on, Hart has given us a true rock opera, about good vs. evil, about heaven vs. hell, about lust and the snake in the garden. This is a post-punk rock bible, a “Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars” or “Tommy” for our day. But the first half dozen times through you need to listen. To absorb. To take in the grandeur of what he’s accomplished. And only then you will find the pop songs. The rock songs. The songs to break your heart. Then you will begin to see the scope of “The Argument.” Then you will begin to see the influences Hart wears proudly on his sleeves, from an almost polished version of the noise we came to love as Hüsker Dü fans to nods towards Dylan (“For Those Too High Aspiring” is probably my favorite track, sounding like a lost track Bob Dylan contributed to “Zen Arcade”), the Doors (“Golden Chain”), the Faces (“Shine, Shine, Shine”), Buddy Holly (“Letting Me Out”), doo wop (“So Far From Heaven”), anthem rock (“Glorious,” which would make for a perfect very tongue-in-cheek Christian rock anthem), even a Rudy Vallée ukulele ditty (“Underneath the Apple Tree”), and yes, old Bowie (the brilliant title track). Hart is a walking history-of-music encyclopedia, and that knowledge shines through on every track.

The production is masterful. (The use of the beep from Sputnik on “Is the Sky the Limit” is a stroke of genius.) Hart’s voice is powerful when it needs to be. Frail, almost cracked, when he wants to rip out your heart. The instrumentation is at times a cacophony of blessed noise pop and at other times brisk, clean, clear. There are moments when a track ends and you actually wish for a breather before what will assault you next.

To take on Milton’s “Paradise Lost” might have seemed a fool’s game for most musicians. But Grant Hart isn’t like most musicians. He’s probably one of the smartest men in rock & roll. And while this might have been a glorious gamble that ended badly, he’s hit the jackpot. But no more so than the fans who get to experience this work of art.

Should you buy it? Well, I’ll answer that question with a question: would you go see Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” if it was in a gallery in your town? If the answer is yes. That you would have to see the genius in Van Gogh’s swirls in person and for yourself. Then, yes, buy “The Argument.”  Masterpieces only come around every so often.

Filmmaking: framing & lighting

I watch a lot of independent cinema.  When my friends are talking about seeing SUPERMAN at the multiplex, I’m scouring Fandango to see where FRANCES HA might be playing.  But one issue I have with so so many indie films is the way they are shot.  Lighting flat, always too bright, and framing that makes me want to scream.

For exampled: saw a great little indie recently.  Well written, nicely acted.  But the way it was shot drove me up a wall.  For example there was one scene of a couple in their bedroom. They were each on their respective electronic devices.  And a night table lamp was turned on.  Yet despite all this wonderful ambient light, there was another lighting source (a ceiling light, perhaps), which served no purpose other than to illuminate just how little set design money they had.  And think about it, who lies in bed looking at their iPad with all these lights.  The ceiling light should have been eliminated.  And honestly if they wanted to make the scene really interesting the lamp should have also been shut off.  With today’s amazing DSLRs the light from the two electronic devices would have been more than enough, and made the scene look so wonderfully cool.   (I lit two scenes in BROKEN SIDE OF TIME with a Zippo lighter.  Just a Zippo lighter.  And in its first film fest, the film won a cinematography award.)

Indie filmmakers seem to be afraid to allow their characters to fall into darkness.  It’s as if they need to the audience to see every damn pixel of their frame.  Or that perhaps if there’s not enough light the audience will know the filmmakers had no money.  Whatever the case, it’s ridiculous.  It’s not real life.  In real life there are dark corners to every room.  Often times you only see half of someone’s face.  It’s a hell of a lot more interesting.  As with sensuality, what we can’t see is often more intriguing.  In a room at night most times we have on a lamp and a TV.  Light your scene that way.  Break the goddamn ceiling light.  No sane person watches TV with the ceiling light on.  Even in an office.  Go for a close up with just the desk lamp on.  Or just the light from a computer screen.  Kill the damn overheads.  Hitchcock said movies are life with the boring parts cut out.  I’m pretty sure he’d likewise agree, movies are life with the ceiling lights turned off.

I’ve posted a few random images here where lighting is used beautifully to that effect.  Captivate your viewers.  Make them wish they could hang a frame of your film on their wall as a still photo.  Try working with one existing light.  Or one lighting source.  You’ll be surprised what you can do with it.  Force yourself to be creative.  Isn’t that what indie filmmaking is all about.

 

 

 

 

 

As for framing.  CENTER IS BORING.  When I see something framed dead center I literally want to reach into the film, past the actors and slap the cinematographer upside the head.  Really that’s all you can come up with.  Flush your characters right, flush them left.  Put just their head popping up at just the bottom of the frame.  Cut off their face.  Let us watch them out of the corner of your eye.  Don’t be afraid to let them get lost in a gorgeous wide shot.  Or an extreme close up.  Show us just their hands as they’re talking.  Or their feet as they’re sitting next to each other on a sofa.  Show them in silhouette.   It’s ok to go out of focus.  BREAK THE FUCKING RULES.  Otherwise you’re shooting a bad soap opera from the 70s.  If you want your film to look like that you have no business making films.

And if you ever have a cinematographer mention to you the “Rule of Thirds” fire them on the fucking spot.  I would. They have no right to be behind a camera.  Because despite the notion that the rule of thirds is supposed to stop people from center framing it also stops you from thinking, from feeling, from being an artist.  There should be no rules to framing other than what feels right to the scene.  What takes your breath away.  Ceiling lights, and everything perfectly even and in focus takes no ones breath away.

Look at great still photography (Pinterest is an amazing source) that could somehow lend itself to the film you are about to make.  Steal from these masters.  Otherwise, even if you have the sweetest little film in the world, people will still be saying, too bad it looks like shit.

The importance of a good sound mix!

My new narrative feature, BROKEN SIDE OF TIME, which premieres on Friday, June 28th at VisionFest in NYC (at the TriBeCa Cinema at 9:30PM), was my first film where I discovered the sheer joy and beauty of shooting with DSLRs.  In this case the Nikon D7000 and a bunch of old manual prime lenses.  It was also the first time I was in charge of recording my own sound…separately.  For that I had purchased a Zoom H4N.  A great little recorder.  I used my Audio Technica AT897 microphone, the same mic which recorded all of the COLOR ME OBSESSED sound, quite beautifully, I might add.  But after just a few hours of filming, we realized the mic was giving us truly low levels.  Not unusable.  But lower than they should have been.  After doing some overnight research, we discovered this very popular mic (along with a model by Rode) was mostly incompatible with the H4N.  I had a Sennheiser overnighted from B&H, and we moved on.

I bring this up because I was truly always worried about the scenes recorded with that old mic.  Specifically an 18 minute scene between Lynn Mancinelli’s Dolce and Audria Ayer’s Viral, which was honestly the main set piece in the film.  The sound was passable at best.  Really quiet in a not-so-quiet location.

Lynn Mancinelli and Audria Ayers in BROKEN SOUND OF TIME with Matt Gundy behind the boards at DuArt Film & Video

Heading into the film’s sound mix last week, that scene was the one which worried me most.  I knew DuArt’s Matt Gundy was brilliant behind the boards.  He had mixed every one of my films since YOU ARE ALONE in 2005.  This would be my sixth feature mixed by Gundy.  But could he really work miracles?  Could all those notch filters and the infamous HissMaster 2000 give him god-like powers?

The answer, in a word, yes.  As much as I liked BROKEN SIDE OF TIME going into the mix, because of Matt Gundy’s ability to add plug-in-Woolite to all the background noise, and gently scub away the drek, watching the film now, I fucking love it.  Matt Gundy saved my film.  It sounds as clean and full as anything playing in the multiplex.  He added sound effects as subtle as a breath.  He mixed certain songs to sound as if they were coming from juke boxes, or even better, from juke boxes in another room.  He took out squeaks in the noisiest mattress every filmed.  He turned by $15,000 feature into a million dollar movie.

That is the difference a sound mix can make.

If you make a film, don’t scrimp on sound, and don’t forget the mix.  It can make the difference between sounding like a bad YouTube video, as so many mumblecore movies do, and a film that deserves an Oscar nom for best sound editing.

Matt Gundy is BROKEN SIDE OF TIME’s hero.  He has my eternal gratitude.

Quick sound addendum to film school post…

There’s a just-announced new audio recorder from Zoom.  The H6 which seems to take the H4N to the next level.  Can’t wait to get my hands on one.

And if you’re not already, please follow my filmmaking board on Pinterest.

Skip film school. Make movies instead.

You want to be a filmmaker and you’re thinking about going to film school.  If I may offer bit of advice.  Don’t.

No, really.  Don’t even consider it.

Not for a second.

Look, the most important thing about making a film is your ability to tell a story.  And no school can really teach you that.  You either know how to tell a story or you don’t.  I truly believe that.  Great story-tellers are born, they are not mass-produced in school.

Sure, any good film school might be able to give you the tools, teach you about structure, etc., and so forth.  But a used copy of a Syd Field book, or “Save the Cat,” can do the same thing.  (Read it, see how it applies to films you love, and it’ll be as clear as daylight.)

Write dialog that sounds real.  Words that people would actually speak.  Listen to everyone around you.  Ride a bus or a subway, sit in coffee shops.  Listen to conversations while pretending to read a book.  You will quickly learn how people actually speak.  Use that knowledge.  Have a friend read your dialog out loud.  If they’re stumbling over words, change those words.  Be in love with the story you’re trying to tell, not the words on the page.

I recently read a number of interviews with film festival programmers and each one stated emphatically that story was more important than technique.  No one is going to care about seeing a magnificently shot film with a crap story.  But a great story that looks only mediocre will get people into the seats.  Have both and you might start developing an audience for your work.

So you have a story in mind, but how do you refine it?  How do you turn it into a film?  You start by watching the masters.

The Criterion edition of Godard’s “Breathless” with its hours of extras will teach you more than any pompous professor blowing smoke out his ass while trying to tell you why the film is so important.  Watch “Breathless,” watch all the extras, then watch it again, then again a few months later, while you work through a few of Godard’s other films like “Contempt” and “Vivre Sa Vie.”

Move onto Hitchcock, Chaplin, Fellini, and don’t skip Bresson.  Ask yourself what sort of film do you want to make?  (If it’s a documentary, begin with the entire Errol Morris canon, move onto Pennebaker, Maysles, and yes, Bresson again.  Skip Michael Moore.  We do not need another Michael Moore, which is something we can all wish Morgan Spurlock would learn.)

Now look, if you want to make big action films.  If McG is in your eyes our finest auteur, then stop reading this now.  Go to film school.  You’re an idiot.

But if you want to make great independent cinema, watch the films which brought that desire to life.  For me it was Jim Jarmusch’s “Stranger Than Paradise,” which broke rules I didn’t even know existed.  Then when I returned to filmmaking in the early 2000’s, after a decade of writing books and scripts, it was Miller’s “Personal Velocity,” parts of which were so beautifully shot on no budget and with a Panasonic VDX100.

What is the film that made you want to be a filmmaker?  NEED to be a filmmaker?  If filmmaking is something you just think might be a cool career choice, but it’s not an urgent need.  Your life doesn’t depend on it.  Give up the dream now.  Become a brain surgeon. It’s easier and the pay is a lot better.  For me, I know how to tell stories.  Nothing else.  I would be lost and dead without the outlet.

But for those still reading, I’m serious, spending a year working through the entire Criterion collection is better than spending a year at film school.  And a lot cheaper.

Learn by watching, then put your own spin on it.  I loved what Errol Morris did with  “Fog Of War.”  One interviewee.  One point of view.  I so wanted to take that concept and turn it into a rock documentary.  But few rockers could sustain a film by themselves.  Most would have you putting the proverbial pistol to your head after twenty minutes.  Then the day of a “Color Me Obsessed“ screening in Brussels, Belgium, I had breakfast with Grant Hart, co-founder of the legendary American punk band Hüsker Dü, and walked away from that meal knowing I had found my subject. “Every Everything:the music, life & times of Grant Hart” was born.

OK…so you have your concept, your script, your idea.  What next?

After all those DVD purchases, you have roughly $245,000 left from that $250,000 that you were about to piss away on a piece of paper that’s more-or-less worthless.

So…next:

Buy a good camera, one that you like and are comfortable with.  And no, I don’t mean blow your whole wad on a RED or something of that ilk.  Honestly I’d recommend a DSLR, either the Nikon D800 or the Canon 5D.  Both great cameras, that offer breathtaking quality.  Hold them, play with them, decide which rocks your world.  They will become like a lover, you will know their every nook and cranny, love or hate their every eccentricity, and revel at the way they see the world you put in front of them.  Now find some lenses you like.  I’m not a fan of zooms.  I prefer old manual primes, with a nice fast aperture, which you can usually find on ebay for under $500 a pop.  Get a 20mm, a 35mm, a 50mm, an 85mm and a 135mm.  (If you do prefer a zoom, make sure you get one with a fixed aperture, so if you want to shoot at f/2.8 when it’s wide, you still can when it’s zoomed in.)  Pick up a Zacuto Z-finder.  A few fast memory cards.  And get a good, but light tripod (Manfrotto is the place to start).  And for roughly $7K you’ve got a package that can shoot anything.  And yes, you can project it on a screen 60 feet wide, and the image will blow your mind.
Sound.  Pick up a Zoom H4N, a great shotgun mic (make sure it’s compatible with your recorder), a boom pole, and a durable mic stand.  Complete: about $2K
Lights.  Two Lowel Rifa’s (what you can do with these is amazing.) And one Arri 1K.  Four stands.  A Road Rags kits.  Extra bulbs.  Total: $2K to $3K.
Throw in a few good cases (Porta Brace cases are amazing and will protect your gear even on flights), clamps, batteries, cables, extension cords, tape.  $2K
Editing: Buy a souped-up Mac Pro.  Pick up a used copy of Final Cut Pro 7 (not Final Cut X…Final Cut X is a piece of amateur shit for which Apple should be ashamed), some 8TB G-Tech drives, at least two monitors.  Here we’re talking anywhere from $6K to $10K depending on the Mac you get.

But still, for $25K give or take, you’ve got yourself a freakin’ production company.  And that would have otherwise just covered housing for a year at NYU.

Now what? You ask.  Take that idea and shoot.  Make a film. That IS what you want to do right?  Don’t be one of those people who just talk about making films (y’know, like hipsters), actually make a fucking film.  Then make another.  And another.  Do at least one or two shorts first, before moving onto features.  You’ll learn much more from actually making a bunch of films than you ever will from sitting in a classroom.  You’ll learn from your own mistakes.  You’ll find your own ways to do things.  (Not your professor’s.)  You’ll learn how gear works, what it can and cannot do, better than you ever would from taking a school-owned camera out for a long weekend.  You’ll live and breathe your camera.  And you can work with the people you want to work with, not classmates, most of whom you can’t stand, and most of whom are there because they think filmmaking sounds like a cool thing to do.

But remember to keep your crews small.  Four or five people tops, and that includes you.  Anyone else is just wasting space and eating your food.  Get people who are not afraid to work.  Feed them well.  (I always go out of my way to treat my crews to great meals, and amazing coffee.)

Once the films are complete actually do something with them.  Submit them to film festivals everywhere.  But do your homework first (what did the fest show last year?).  Avoid first-year festivals, they are usually cluster-fucks (it does you no good if your film screens hours late, and in the wrong ratio).   Find good fest fits for your specific films.  WithoutABox is the place for that.  And DO NOT limit yourself to your home area.  If you just want to make films to show to your friends and locals, you’re not a filmmaker.  You make home movies.  Reconsider brain surgery.

So you want to be a production assistant…

I recently saw a post for something called the Production Assistant Bootcamp, where over four consecutive Saturdays you could learn to be a production assistant in film & tv.  For only $499.  And it made me laugh.  It made me a little angry about how people are always ripping off those who want to break into the business.  Because honestly, anyone can learn to be a good PA, if they have the passion for film (which can’t be taught) and can follow two simple words:

PAY ATTENTION

All the time.

Every freaking second.

Leave your phone in your car.  If I see you texting, talking, whatever, you’re going home.  The only call you should answer when you’re involved with one of my films, is mine (or one of my department heads).  And that would be when you’re on a run for something off set.

PAY ATTENTION.

I never want to be calling a PA’s name.  I want them standing by watching for when I’m about to ask for something.  And I don’t care if I’m asking for you to run and get a cable, to get me a coffee, to go feed the parking meters, to find me my co-producer.  Whatever the task.  Do it with a smile.  You’re a PA.  You don’t want to be a PA forever.  And the fastest way to stop being a PA and get promoted is to be a fucking fantastic PA.

Don’t EVER question or complain, or say something stupid like “I fed the meters last time, can’t someone else do it.”  The answer would be yes, someone else can, because you’re going home.

PAY ATTENTION

Watch how the lead crew members behave.  See how they handle gear.  If a particular department (camera, set design, whatever) interests you, during lunch (LUNCH, or perhaps hitch a ride with them during a company move) ask that department head questions.  We all love talking about film.  And we all like people who are as passionate as we are.

The worst PAs I’ve ever had came from NYU Film School.  No joke.  They were above everything.  They knew it all.  The best were people who just really loved movies and wanted to work on a film set.

Don’t dilly-dally.  If I’m sending you across the street to Starbucks for two coffees, I don’t expect you to be gone an hour.  Treat everything as if you were rushing to the hospital because your best friend was about to die, and you want to say goodbye.  Every second counts on a film set.  Everything is URGENT!

Once again: PUT AWAY YOUR GODDAMN PHONE (before I take it from you and crush it under the heel of my Doc Martens. And yes, I will do that without missing a beat.)

PAY ATTENTION!

Listen to what we call things, how we speak.  Every film set, every director has his own language.  If you have a brain, you’ll pick it up in a day.

And if we see you’re doing a great job, you will get more responsibility.  Though it means more work, it also means we trust you.  Cherish that opportunity, and ask if there’s even more you can do.

NEVER be late.  Arrive early, and don’t even think about leaving until the doors are being locked.

If you’re a guy, and I see you walking near a gal who’s carrying some huge case, and you don’t offer to carry it.  I will take you down in front of everyone.  I don’t mean to be sexist, but I want my male crew members to behave like gentlemen.  At least offer.  You’re a PA, when things are being moved your hands should never be empty.

SILENCE IS GOLDEN!

Don’t talk.  The last thing I want to hear when trying to figure out a shot, or when I’m about to interview someone important, is mindless chatter.  If you’re talking, you’re not paying attention.  Do NOT give your opinion unless asked for it.  Never comment out loud about how a shot looks, how a line is read.  That’s not your job.  And NEVER NEVRER NEVER talk to the cast members. NEVER give an actor your opinion of their performance, or how they look.  This will get you physically thrown off any good director’s set.  Don’t flirt.  Don’t have a one-night-stand with the hunky lead actor, because tomorrow when he barely remembers your name it’s going to be a distraction to you.  And if you’re distracted you’re not paying attention.

ATTITUDE IS EVERYHING!

A good attitude.  I don’t care if you drank too much last night and your head is about to explode.  I don’t care if you’re fighting with your boyfriend/girlfriend/parents.   That’s not my problem or fault.  Arrive on set smiling, and ready to work for the next 12 to 16 hours.  If you’re running in slow motion, or falling asleep in the corner, or crying on the phone, guess what…you’re not paying attention.

Those two simple words.  And yet you’d be shocked as to how many people fail at this job.  Perhaps their passion for film is not real, or not as deep as they might have thought.  Perhaps they’re just lazy.  Remember, short of a nuclear explosion across the street, the ONLY thing that matters is the film you’re making.

Oh,  and one last thing…

(pay attention)

There.  I just saved you $499.