The Down And Dirty

It's time once again for the annual running commentary on a night of screenings.

This is something I've stolen from literary agent blogs (and that's books, not screenplays).  From time-to-time one of them will open their query letters and comment on each one without revealing the author, title, or any details of the submission.  It's a lot of fun, and can be very educational, so I thought I'd do the same thing with festival submissions, so here we go.

Thanks to Easter, we had a shortened screening session and delivered pizza.  Once everyone was gathered, we split into our two rooms and the shorts began.

First up was a period piece with amazing production value and a true life topic that hasn't been done to death.  Kudos on both.  The dialogue was a little stiff, and I wished the director had given one of my favorite notes, "no individual line is important, so relax."  Some of the cast played every beat as if it were life or death, and most of the time it was just plain life – which is good.  But this wasn't a death blow to the film.  It was fun to see a DWF alumni show up on screen, especially since he was good and the movie was good.  Nothing sucks more than having to pass on an alumni's movie – which we do a lot.  I did not pass on this film, and the feeling in the room makes me think they will be getting a second round letter soon.

Our next movie was a short doc, which I always find curious.  Who are they making these movies for?  Sure, a 40-50 minute doc could play on TV, and a feature doc might find distribution – especially online, as they are becoming more and more popular.  But what does one do with a 10-15 minute doc? 

My questions were quickly answered as this story was about a group of people who don't care about such things.  They make art for the joy of doing it, and the joy that it might bring any individual who happens to come across it.  I found it delightful, and appreciated the friendly slap-in-the-face for thinking so commercially.  Los Angeles will do that to a person.

The note I wrote for the next submission was, "This movie is both bad and stupid.  You can't be both."  By bad, I mean it was technically below any kind of artistic standard.  The sound was off.  The dialogue was stiff and so were the actors.  I thought some of the ideas were clever, but poorly executed.  The whole thing became a mess and our room envied the cackles of laughter that poor out from behind the closed door of the other.

The next film was good.  Not great, but solid.  It seemed to present us with characters, knowing that we would assume certain things about them, then throw that back in our faces – in a fun way.  It was very clever, and certainly nothing I'd ever seen before, which is saying a lot as I have been doing this for over a decade. 

Somewhere about here we took a break for hot cookies, which might help our Twitter followers figure out my post a few days ago.  I think there was apple pie this time, too.  Damn Leslee!  Just when I was losing weight.

The next film was so bad is sucked the life out of all of us.  There are some actors ... who can only seem to say ... a handful of words at a time.  No matter what the scene, they speak the same amount of words, and take the same length pauses between each phrase.  All but one of the cast members in this film had that problem, and the one that didn't wasn't old enough to see a PG-13 movie, so there's hope for the future.  Added to the community theatre acting rhythm, the lead had that "I'm talking so softly that, if I weren't wearing a mic no one could hear me at all," thing going.  Acting sometimes is like singing.  Almost anyone can sing well at a whisper, and some people make a good living putting a microphone within their one inch audible range.  But when these people have to actually do the work of a trained artist, they don't have the chops.  None of us were fooled.

As for the bad phrasing problem – actors, please watch JamesWhitmore's work.  He, better than any other modern actor, could turn stilted – sometimes downright bad – writing into warm butter.  If you can find his sense of immediacy, you'll pop off the screen.

Speaking of popping off the screen, we had a family story that did just that.  Last week I talked about "drama must be earned," well this film is a lesson in how to do that.  It had a sense of humor, yet was serious.  The characters were complex.  You could like them and hate them at the same time – just like family.  The actors were all fantastic, especially the kids.  The story moved at a perfect pace, and at no time did I feel like there was a camera, or director, showing me how clever they could be, which always achieves the opposite.  Mazel tov.

Finally, we had a short that billed itself as a drama, but was really a dark comedy.   There was a little bit too much Tarantino, hipper-than-thou dialogue about nothing at the beginning, but not enough to kill it.  They did a bit from one of my favorite Terry Gilliam films, which fit, so not a big deal.  I would have liked to hear a little more of the filmmaker's voice apart from the homage, but the acting was good, as was the story and filmmaking skills.  The end made me write a note I usually put on movies I don't like, "filmmaker need therapy."  In this case, I put it on one I did.

And that's it.  We all grabbed some features to take home while chatting with the folks from the other room about what was good, what wasn't, and the typical blah-blah-blah.

There you have it.  As behind-the-scenes as you can get.   Now get back to making movies.

While You Wait For The Slate

A little break while you wait for us to announce this year's slate.  As some of you may know, I write novels as well as screenplays, and blog at From The Write Angle with my literary friends.  This particular article might hold some interest to filmmakers, so I'm posting it simultaneously here and on FTWA.  Since most studio films start out as manuscripts or short stories (see my post on short stories), I recommend that filmmakers get to know novelists.  Something good is bound to come from it.

Here's my article in From The Write Angle: "Could The Next Hollywood Be New York?"

To work in the film industry, one goes to Hollywood; for publishing, New York.  But could that paradigm change in the near future?

Way back in the 1990's, a book was something that came on paper and a movie on film.  To buy a book, you went to the bookstore.  To see a movie, you went to the theatre or a video store.  They were two very different businesses.

Today, both movies and books are digital files.  If you want to buy a book, you go to Amazon, iTunes, or Nook.  To see a movie you go to ... Amazon, iTunes or Nook.

For computers, the only difference between film and literature is the size of the file.  Tour a publishing house or a digital film lab without looking at the computer screens and you'll be hard-pressed to know which was which.  They are both transcoding files for different platforms, QCing those files, preparing metadata and art (posters or covers), checking chapter breaks, compressing, and uploading them to the providers.

So, consider ...  Motion Picture Studios don't really make movies anymore; haven't for a long time.  Sure, they find the projects.  They develop the material.  They finance the productions, and they distribute them, but the nuts and bolts of turning ink-on-paper into images on the screen is jobbed out to production companies.  Imagine makes movies mostly for Universal.  Village Road Show for Warner Bros. etc.  Of course there is a tight partnership, since the Studios are often putting in most of the money, but even that is beginning to lean more heavily in the direction of the production companies.

Let's say you're a publishing house.  The book industry has become so volatile that you need some ballast.  You need to leverage the assets you have in a way that can spread the risk.  But what assets are those?  You have a company full of people who know a good book when they read one, and they are willing to read a ton of them to find the gems.  You have a library of good stories, and you're buying new ones all the time.  But does that make you a valuable company, or the most insane person in your neighborhood book club?

What's the first thing a movie studio does?  They find the projects.  You, as a publisher, are sitting on a mountain of them.  Not only have you found the diamonds in the rough, you've polished them and presented them to market.  You have developed the material. 

In your library are Romance Novels that could become a money machine in your own Harlequin YouTube channel.  And you're buying new stuff.  You just shelled out cash and resources for Mindy McGinnis's Not a Drop to Drink, which is screaming for a wide theatrical release.  If you're good, you can lock up the film rights before Hollywood knows what hit them.

In fact, the right of first refusal on the movie is now going to be in your standard contract.

What's the next thing a studio does?  They finance.  You're a publishing company.  You're in New York.  You can't swing a big black cat without hitting a handful of hedge fund managers who would love to place a bet on a Big Six project.  Where the independent film producer has to beg and explain what they are doing, you can say, "I'm the person who found Hunger Games and Harry Potter.  Wanna play with me?"

So, you've got the money.  You've got the properties.  Now comes the tricky part every homeowner can attest to, finding the right contractor to build on your property.  If only there was a high turnover rate in Hollywood.  Then there would be plenty of experienced executives looking for the chance to get back into producing.  They'd have the connections to put together a string of companies to produce your entire slate.

Oh, wait!  There IS a high turnover rate of executives in Hollywood.  You can't swing a hedge fund manager without hitting a former studio executive.  Or, in my case, a current festival director who gave you this idea in the first place.

So if this is such a brilliant plan, why hasn't anyone done it before?

Not everyone has access to the intellectual property you do, and there's distribution.  In the theatrical days, a company had to have a strong relationship with the theatre owners to squeeze their films into the crowded market.  That's still true of theatres, but the future is on line.  You, as a new studio, are going to have to have a working relationship with the platforms that distribute films, and – bingo!  You do. 

Amazon, iTunes, Nook, etc.  You've been delivering to them for years.  You have servers and staff in place to QC, package, and upload to all of these platforms.  Once you are delivering films, Netflix, Playstation, Hulu, Vudu, Cinema Now and more will come knocking.

And you're vertically integrated.  When people like the book they just read on their iPad; one click and they're watching the movie.  What?  The movie hasn't been made?  They can pre-order it  You'll send it directly to their device as soon as it's ready.  Talk about crowd funding, a movie could be profitable before it's even shot.

And none of this takes into account the lower budgets on films.  The guilds all have "made for New Media" contracts in place with attractive rates.  Shooting digitally is a fraction of the cost of the old film days.  You could crank out low budget Romance Movies as fast as Cali MacKay can write the books.  For the bigger budget theatrical releases, you can partner up with – and learn from – a major studio.  In fact, they probably own your company anyway, so the good faith negotiations will be a breeze.

But what about the writers?  Will new writers be willing to sell their film rights at the same time they do their book?  That's an individual choice, of course, and I hope agents and writers alike will comment here about their thoughts on the subject.  Personally, I'd say yes for a few reasons. 

First, you're not selling the rights, you're selling the exclusive option to buy the rights within a certain time period.  At the end of that time - if they haven't sold it - you get to keep the money  you were advanced, and go try to sell the option to someone else.  If your agent is good, you might sell a 3 year option from the contract date.  It will take two years to get your manuscript to market, and then one year to establish sales.  Hollywood will read an unpublished manuscript, but they won't take a lot of interest if it doesn't have sales behind it, so you've been paid for three years of an option, when it's only costing you about six months of post-publising time.

Another reason to sell your film rights to your publisher is that they will be into your project for a lot of money.  Turning the red ink on your balance sheet to black is a big motivator in the corporate world.  They are going to want your manuscript to be as big of a hit as possible, and that larger investment is going to keep you on their hot sheet.

And finally, it's money!  Take it!  Sure, most Hollywood movies are based on books these days, but most books don't get made into movies.  Yes, there's a chance that they'll hold onto the rights and do nothing, but they paid you.  That's better than you and your agent shopping the project around to production companies for nothing.  Let your publisher take the project to the same producers with the sales pitch, "and we have the money to produce it."  You're in a win-win all the way.

Now, if only I could figure out how to make this a win for me... because, you know, it's all about me.

Easter Delay

Due to the Spring festivities, this week's post is delayed a bit.  Look for a special post on Wednesday, and I'll get back to the screenings soon.

Life In The Digital World

We started off the night with 3 or 4 DVDs that wouldn't play.  I then picked up a package with two copies of the film, nicely labeled as such, and thought, "Here's a filmmaker that's read my blog," or possibly goes all the way back to the Without A Box's message board days.  I miss that place.  DVDs have a high failure rate, so it's always a good idea to send a backup.

And before you go saying that we should screen online, forget about it.  For one thing, our workflow requires a physical representation of the movie.  We make piles and stacks, and fill bins.  We hand movies to screeners.  Not only that, I prefer to watch a DVD on my big screen with 5.1 surround sound, not my laptop.  Yes, I know, I can (and do) connect my TV to the internet and watch downloads, but not every screener has the tech-savvy to do that, or work around problems when they come up.  So, it's DVDs.  When they fail, if you haven't sent a backup, we'll get in touch to have them replaced.  Thanks.

Now that that's out of the way, let's do a little filmmaking 101. 

Cinema is an illusion of light and sound.  That's it.  Those are the only two elements you have to deal with.  If you fail at either one of those, your best score is 50%, and that doesn't cut it in anything.  We are bombarded with films that are good, but we can't hear them.  Of performances that would be moving, if we could see the actor's face.  I know silhouettes are cool and artistic and everything, and used correctly, extremely effective – but not for a monologue!  Not for any kind of scene where the emotions of the character are important.  Let us see their faces.  Let us hear their words.  Or, in many cases, your words.  Use a bounce card to fill shadows.  Use a good post sound facility to finish your sound.  Then you will at least have a chance for a 100% score - and all you'll have to worry about are story, performances, art department, digital formats, etc.

Speaking of digital formats... Everyone has been so excited about the digital revolution in independent filmmaking.  Digital is supposed to be so much cheaper and easier than film.  Cheaper? Absolutely.  Easier?  Not in the least. 

I haven't done a study, but I would bet that over half of the films submitted have something so wrong about their digital photography that any layperson could call it out.  They might not be able to say what's a dropped frame, what's a dup frame, or inter-lacing, or whatever you want to call it, but they can certainly say, "that doesn't look right" or "this is giving me a headache."  If we were to properly QC submissions, I'd bet 90% of them fail.  If the story is good, and the acting is good, and all other elements of the filmmaking are good, chances are we'll screen it at the festival, but those filmmakers are in for a world of hurt when they go for distribution.

And often, the problem boils down to the way it was shot.  Back in the film days, a producer wouldn't think of using a cinematographer just because they owned a camera.  Now, having a camera is easy, but knowing how to use it on a professional level has gotten harder.  On big shoots a DIT (that's pronounced D. I. T., not DEET), or Digital Imaging Technician, is on hand to assist the cinematographer.  If you're currently looking for a DP, you might want to find a DIT with aspirations of getting behind the camera.

We are still seeing some good films.  One held us hostage and told us jokes for a large portion of the evening.  Loved the movie, I hope we can find space for it.  Another was less than two minutes long, which is great, and literally kicked ass!  Nice job.

Thanks for reading.  We are lining up some exciting sponsors, panels, and events for this year, so keep an eye out.  I will report news as things are finalized.

Garry Marshall Has It Right

First, a little business.  Our office computer problems are not 100% fixed, but we do have a nice work-around.  Keep an eye on your e-mails for communication from DWF, and get back to us quickly and politely.  Given a choice between two equally good movies, where one filmmaker is hard to deal with, and the other is a delight – who would you go with?

There is a saying in theatre that drama is just a breath away from comedy.  It's the difference between laughing with a comedy and laughing at a drama.  One sure way to cross that line is to have your film push the seriousness of everything.  If your cast project the attitude of, "look what an important movie I'm in," then hilarity will ensue.  If you do the big dramatic cut to the big dramatic look on the totally dramatic actor, then you are not making a drama.  In fact, I often find myself saying to the screen when the filmmaker gets too serious too quickly, "Please be funny!  Please be funny!"  If they turn it all into a joke, then they are my new best friends. 

We had a couple of dramatic dramas last night that didn't make any friends.  Remember drama, like pauses and monologues, must be earned.  Don't tell us to care, make us care.

We did have some understated, humble dramas, that generated the kind of silence among screeners that is the best of complements.  One in particular had us all ready to join a cult, then hip-checked us back into reality.  Good on ya!

But the overall theme of the night in my screening room was – WTF!?  After watching two or three movies in a row that made absolutely no sense, one of our screeners quoted GarryMarshall, "Please, just tell us a story."  I don't think there has ever been better, more concise, filmmaking advice than that.  Just tell a story.  If you do that, then you know you're on a solid foundation.  From there, you can build what kind of story you're telling and the way you're telling it. 

Yes, I know there are schools of thought that experiment with Jackson Pollock style "remove the artist from the equation" ... stuff (to be polite).  I've had arguments with modern dancers who talk about "movement for movement's sake" or "moving sculpture," and to them I say, "If a girl comes out and dances, I want to know who she is and why she's dancing.  If she's joined by another dancer, I want to know what the relationship is between the two."

It's human nature.  We are animals who have a deep need to tell and hear stories.  Why is it that artists will insist that their salads be all organic, but they turn their work into some kind of freak of nature? 

So, please, do like the Wise Old Man of Hollywood says.  Just tell us a story.

Home With A Cold

I missed this week's screening.  What can I say?  I have that same bug that's going around.  It happens.

So what do we do when a key player can't make the shorts screenings?  The answer lies in how we approach the entire selection process. 

All movies are screened by at least three people.  Most of these folks are alumni; filmmakers who know what it is to have struggled so hard to turn one's imagination into something tangible.  Other screeners are just people who like movies.  The logic being, there should be no prerequisite for an audience member to enjoy or not enjoy a film.  Whether you're doing Samuel Becket-style absurdist theatrics, USC Film School Space Adventures, or a David O. Russell character study, the experience of the viewer – beyond speaking the same language of the film or subtitles – is not relevant to the success of the storytelling.

Often screeners' notes from features will come back, "I think this is a good movie, but it's not my favorite genre, so someone else should look at it."  So we do.  We all want to see movies we like, and since many of us have been doing this for a while, we've learned each other's taste.  Often a film will be handed to an experienced screener with, "no else has liked this movie yet, but you seem to enjoy this style, so you should take a look at it." 

Believe it or not, we're fighting hard to get your movies into the festival.

For short films, all three (or more) screeners watch together, but our opinions are noted separately.  There is no pressure to make your opinion match everyone else's.  In fact, it's just the opposite.  We want more diverse views, not less. 

Films that are universally unliked have a hard row to hoe.  Leslee, whose heart is too big to pass on a movie out of hand, will probably pop it into her machine to confirm the reviews, but after that, the film will wait to see if by some stretch of fate someone's "maybe" might be enough to pull it from the depths of the "thanks for submitting" bin.  Films have come back from the dead many times, which is why we don't send out pass letters until the entire slate is full.  So not all hope is lost.

Since we have two screening rooms running at once, I will take home the shorts I didn't get to see that have anything better than a failing grade, and Leslee will more closely watch the films she didn't get to see.   Since I missed this week, I'll have two rooms worth of movies to watch over the week.  I hope you guys have made good ones!

Features are done pretty much the same way, but screeners take them home.  It's fun to hear us talk at the weekly screenings.  "Have you seen that one?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay, then I won't say anything, but talk to me when you have, because... I think it got weird and I want to know if it was just me."

All of this is to say; we're watching and talking about your movies – even when we're home with a cold.

Thanks for reading.

If Time Is Relative, Why Didn't I Get A Birthday Present?

For those who care about these things, we've reached 3,000 likes on Facebook!  Is that good?  I don't know.  When asked about this momentous success, co-found Leslee Scallon said, "I want four!" 

I hope she meant four thousand, but I still don't know how to gauge the level of success.  Like Time, Facebook likes are relative.

Speaking of Time, this year we are making Dances With Films run longer.  You do not need to do the same for your films.  Anyone who doubts the relativity of Time need only screen film festival submissions to see how it can expand or contract.  We see ten minute movies that never end, and twenty minute ones that go by in a flash.  Though, the latter is rare.

All of this prompted me to write the note, "slow is different from paced."  A movie feels slow when nothing happens for a long time.  Paced can mean the rhythm of dialogue, edits, etc. but within the pace stuff happens.  So make sure "stuff" is always happening in your movie.  Please.

Every year we see shorts and features that spend money in all the wrong ways.  A house with no foundation will not sell, no matter how pretty the lawn is.  Money will not make the audience care about your characters.  High production values will not make a bad actor good.  Before you spend a dime, find a script that jumps off the page, gets under your skin, and keeps you awake at night.  If you're going to spend money on cast, get your money's worth in talent.  High production values then become a wise investment. 

That's it for this week.  For those who have submitted, sit tight, we're still watching.  For those who haven't, our regular deadline is coming up in a couple of days.  If you want to save some money, submit ASAP.  If you need the time to make your film better, do.  We'll be open for submissions for a few more weeks.

For those who haven't made their movies yet.  Good for you for doing your research.  I look forward to seeing your work.