GOP Vixen

Diary Of An Indie Filmmaker Part VII

Chapter VII: It's Getting Scary (and potentially big news)

I had kind of thought things would've fallen apart by now. You know, that I wouldn't have been able to find a DP. Or, that everyone who read the script would've told me I was nuts. Actually, I was kind of planning on it. Secretly hoping. But things are falling into place. The journey appears to actually be leading somewhere. And don't tell anyone I said this but... I have no idea how to direct a movie. Ahem... Anyway... But that isn't the potential big news...

I landed audition space. Free audition space. Audition space in the 90210 zip code. I finally figured out how to get stuff for free: Call everyone. Ask everyone. Don't stop until someone says yes. I am a genius.

The woman who's letting us use the space is a very nice actress interested in producing. I'm meeting with her tomorrow. I'm hoping she'll help with casting and maybe even come on board as a producer. How do I define producer? Anyone willing to do shit I won't have to. Actually I define a producer as someone who FUCKING PRODUCES SOMETHING! Like a location. Like a prop. Like more money. Like anything. She's already produced free 90210 audition space. Maybe she can produce something else. But that isn't the potential big news...

Casting has begun in earnest. I have Internet ads up at all the expected places and the response is as it would be for a dog commercial: HUGE. Literally thousands. And no wonder single guys become producers. You should see the women. Zowie. Even the women for bit parts. Zowie. Even the women over thirty. Zowie. But I'm gonna need help. We can't audition everyone. Who to pick? Who not? And on their resumes everyone's been in a movie. A movie I've never heard of, but a movie. It's gonna take days to go through all that. But that isn't the potential big news...

Here's the potential big news: Here are five words I've never uttered to anyone while making this movie: "Will you read my script?" It's something I just don't ask. It sounds needy and you're asking for two hours of a busy person's life. Some very nice people have asked me if they could read it. And I've appreciated that more than I can express. But I decided before embarking on this journey that I wouldn't ask and that's been a very smart decision. Because it peaked a little interest the other day.

I'm picking this producer's brain. Not a huge producer. Not Bruckheimer. But he makes moderately budgeted movies and has his own company and does quite well. So, I'm just asking advice about financing and contracts. He's being very nice and suddenly asks me what my movie's about. I tell him. He says it's not marketable. I knew that. He says I need stars to make it marketable. No shit. I have $15,000. Know anyone? He asks to read the script. I sigh and tell him I'll drop it off the next day. I assumed he was blowing me off. It's not the first time. "Send me your script" is the graceful exit line in Hollywood.

He loved it. I mean loved it. He asks if he can send it to a woman. A woman who's name wasn't familiar but her face was. She's on IMDB. She's got a butt-load of credits. She's no star but she can sure act. He thinks she'll be interested. He thinks she'll be perfect and respond to it. She does. She calls me the next day. She tells me she just finished reading it and called me. She had to call me. She can't talk about the script right now, she's still too emotional about it, but she had to call me and tell me she'll call me back. (These arty types.. I tell you).

She calls me back a few hours later. We talked for an hour. We talked about all the movie's she's made that I enjoyed. We talk about the movie's I loved that influenced the script. She asks me all these arty questions: Where did the script idea come from? How personal was it? What was I trying to say? What feeling was I trying to create? She was so cool. Then I told her all we had $15,000.

She didn't care. She said she's going to talk to other actors and ask them to to do it  and talk to this producer about getting other actors and money. "It's about the art," she said. "It's about the art and I'll call you tomorrow,"  she said. "We're going to get together. We're going to talk about your script." 

She didn't call the next day. I expected that. She did call today. I didn't expect that. We're meeting Monday. The production company called today too. Their casting agent is reading the script this weekend to "see who else might work."

There's the A-Team. There's the B-Team. I'm still on the B-Team. I'm still working the B-Team. I'm not taking my eye of the ball. Today I made 60 calls begging for locations and got one "maybe." That "maybe" is more important to me than anything else that's happened because it's real. The actor and the production company are not real. They're ether. I can't control them. I can control how many phone calls I make. I can control how many locations I hustle.

The A-Team is big actors and more money. I react to the A-Team. I'm proactively always and forever producing the B-Team's $15,000 movie. Chasing the perfect will cost me the good. And I refuse to do that.

And that way if it all falls apart It doesn't matter. If the actor and the production company never call me again it won't matter. I'm not counting on them. I'm not waiting on them. I'm not excited about them. Because I don't need them. If I never hear from them again it was still all good because it was fun and flattering and a brush with something bigger than I expected. But I'll have wasted no time on it. I'll still have my movie. 

But it's getting scary folks. It's getting scary. I may actually have to make this thing.

Diary Of An Indie Filmmaker: Chapter VI

Chapter VI: A Day in The Life

I'm 39 years old, six feet tall, and still have a 32 inch waist thank you very much. I know this because yesterday was my once-every-seven-or-eight-year-new-clothes shopping spree. I hate clothes shopping and refuse to even discuss it until served with divorce papers. So, the Hot Little Number and I spent the afternoon at the mall. And because my mind is always on the planet Get This Movie Made I actually left a bag of shirts somewhere never to be found again.

And that's what it's always like. Concentrating on anything but the millions of things that need to be done to make my movie is impossible. Sleep is difficult because my mind's always racing. Work's difficult. Relaxation is difficult. Watching movies is difficult. Blogging, writing, reading... everything is difficult. So even when not actually working on the film I am working on the film; game planning and brainstorming. It's exhausting.

But not as exhausting as actually getting things done. As mentioned previously, audition space and locations are my number one worry now. Brainstorming won't get those spaces. Only action will. So, here's a typical example of how that goes:

3:03 pm: Home from the mall The Hot Little Number has to let herself in because I run to the answering machine hoping to see anything but the number zero on the display. Shit. I run to email hoping for word from someone anyone that I have audition space. Nope. As a matter of  fact no emails at all. Not even a penis enhancer email! The penis enhancers are ignoring me!  I don't even get the thrill of seeing a (1) in my mailbox!

3:06 pm: I'm asked by The Hot Little Number if I left a bag of shirts in the car. I grunt as I look up a phone number.

3:09 pm: I'm dialing my co-producer when The Hot Little Number informs me I left the bag of shirts at the mall. I "yeah, yeah" her when my co-producer picks up and informs me he has not heard back from the restaurant in Bellflower that might let us film there. This is a major location. I need this location. I need it if for no other reason then to have one less thing to worry about. I get the address from him and decide to head out there personally to talk to the guy.

3:13 pm: I ask The Hot Little Number if she's seen that bag of shirts. Man, she's sexy when she's pissed.

3:16 pm: I'm firing out emails about audition space. Needy emails. Pathetic emails. I'm promising parts to people who can't act and producer credits to people who can't even produce a return phone call. I'm not sure when I became a whore... Then I email the penis enhancer people, "E tu, Dick Harder? E tu?"

3:26 pm: I'm Mapquesting to get to where I need to go: The restaurant and a play. I have to go to a play because I'm hoping to get audition space where the play is being held. I want to see the actors and I want to see the space and I want to make a good impression. And of course this place is miles and 5 freeways away from the restaurant in Bellflower.

4:18 pm: On the road. It's freeway hell: The 60 to the 710 to the 91 (which I never knew existed) to the restaurant in Bellflower. The Hot Little Number wonders if we shouldn't have called first. I say, "Ah, he's only open 2 days a week. He'll be there."

4:55 pm: He's not there.

6:37 pm: In a tense silence it's the 91 to the 710 to the 60 to the 10 to the 101 to the playhouse. We're an hour early. A green tea double mocha with cinammon sprinkles and whipped cream for The Hot Little Number and a black coffee for me makes us both feel better.

7:42 pm: The theater is stuffed in a strip mall between a laundromat and an insurance agency. It's a hole in the wall created by people willing to put on a show anywhere. I love their spirit and I love the play even though I didn't understand a word of it; I don't speak Shakespeare. But no one's made a decision about giving me the space. Arghhh!

11:04 pm: Back on the 101. It's a parking lot. At 11! The restaurant in Bellflower closes at midnight. Wait, wait, wait... It's some asshole with a dead car in the middle lane. I forget people on L.A freeways carry guns and it's, "MOVE YOUR CAR ASSHOLE!"

11:38 pm: Zooooommmm.... The 101 to the 10 to the 60 to the 710 to the 91 to the restaurant. The guy's there and he's a sweetheart. A Christian minister who runs the place at a loss so kids have a place to hang out. All he wants from us is that we pay any increase in his electric bill we cause with the lights. Otherwise it's ours when he doesn't need it and if he needs to reschedule a Bible study for us he will.

His name is Frank. He has an earring in each ear and a ponytail. He loves Jesus and is getting ready to drive all night to bring some comfort items to a  woman's shelter in Mexico. I tell him it's not a Christian movie and has some bad language in it. He tells me to make my movie, shakes my hand, and goes back to his good works.

12:17 pm: In the glow of securing an important location and meeting a man who puts my mission in perspective it's the 91 to the 710 to the 60 to the gas station.

12:45 pm: $35.00 for gas. Worth every penny. It was a good day. And I am having the time of my life.

Diary Of An Indie Filmmaker Part Whatever The Hell It Is Now

Chapter Whatever The Hell It Is Now: Progress And Stress

So, I have a $15,000 budget.  And $500.00 is already gone on miscellaneous stuff like software to storyboard and some office supplies. If I added gas and meals it would probably be higher but I rationalize gas isn't really a movie expense.

With $14,500 left, I have an estimate for all the equipment I need to film my movie including the camera, tape stock, sound equipment, and a neat little crane for $9200. Add the $500 I've already spent and without an inch of film shot $9700 is gone. That leaves $5300 to feed the crew, pay for locations, and wardrobe and a thousand other things I haven't considered.

I can do it.

The good news is that I have finally found a cinematographer and sound mixer. I have a boom pole handler (a skill indeed), three production assistants, and three other people interested in being camera operators. Not bad, really. Not bad at all.

What remains is finding a place to audition. And finding locations that will allow us in for free. This is what I'm freaking out over now. I thought the DP and Sound Mixer would ease my stress once located. I was wrong. Now I'm not only stressed about finding places to shoot -- I'm stressed about my DP and Sound Mixer dropping out on me. I've told them there's only one way out. One. Way. Omerta, baby. Omerta.

When you have $5300 you can't pay for something like audition space. I want a full Saturday and Sunday for auditions and another Saturday and Sunday for call backs. You can't do it in your house because only people interested in doing porn will show up. Which would be fine if I were single (and I wish I'd thought of it then) but it's not fine now. So, I call and email and hound everybody for a place. And I have four leads now and as soon as one locks I can cast. I've offered to clean and even paint one place if they'll let us in for free. Time I have. Money I don't. I'll hopefully know more tonight.

Just thinking about the locations we need stresses me out so bad my armpits burn. That ever happened to you? Please lie and say it has.

I expect casting to be fun. I like actors. They're enthusiastic and unlike everyone else eager to pitch in and help. I have one crucial part to cast. One very very crucial part. So, crucial we can't make the movie the perfect actor. That makes my armpits burn too.

But have I mentioned I'm having fun? I really am. It's a war of attrition and I'm essentially on my own. I get everything done myself or by lighting a fire under others. I zip all over the city with no air conditioning to save on gas hustling up anything and any angle I can find. And I feel that I'm doing everything right and methodically. The way it has to be done. 

Most gratifying is that the script I worked three years on is what's bringing people on board. They really like the script. They believe in it and that if we can get it on film it will help their careers.

We're also of course still looking for financing. Now, we're only looking for a few thousand dollars here and there -- a few thousand dollars will make a major difference -- and we know that with $50,000 we could make the movie easy. But still no one wants to give their money away. Not even millionaires want to lose $5,000. So, we have to tell our investors how and why they'll make money. And it's so frustrating just trying to get an answer to this.

The questions are fairly simple ones:

1. Does our type of movie ever get distribution either theatrically or on DVD?

2. If they do, how much money do they normally make?

3. How do we do the contracts with investors? What kind of return? Do we give them points? Are they all equal investors?

But no one will answer these simple questions. They all want to tell us how to make the movie or why it won't get distributed or how hard it is. In other words they want to talk about themselves. Some want to read the script to make sure they don't  want to finance it. It's infuriating really. And I have no intention of letting everything I've produced thus far collapse waiting for the phone to ring and one of these guys to duex ex machina $35,000 into the production. A lot of people would wait. And have lost their films waiting. Not I. I am done waiting for the phone to ring. Done as done can be. But it could still happen. So, I've devised a plan.

The plan is two track: I will move ahead making a $15,000 movie. My brother will work on the financing. I'm the B team. I'm worse case scenario. He's the A Team. He's best case scenario. Either way we get a movie made. Plus when people see you steaming ahead without them it has an interesting psychological effect. As a matter of fact letting people know I'm moving forward, not waiting for their calls, not willing to waste energy reeling them in, and perfectly willing to do an end-run around their all-talk-no-walk asses to get things done has helped to get me more real help than anything.  So, we'll see if it gets us some cash. Or, at least some simple questions answered.

Diary Of An Indie Filmmaker: Part IV

CHAPTER IV: Shake The Flake

Shake 'em. Shake 'em before they break your heart. You knew they were a flake to begin with because they told you everything you wanted to hear but in the end didn't really say anything at all. You knew they were a flake because you were always trying to reel them in, get a straight answer, a real commitment, a concrete thing actually DONE. Don't try to figure them out. Just shake 'em. I can't tell you how many of them have wasted my time and gas and postage and hopes. This production has now become a No Flake Zone.

But good things are happening. Promising things. Found a co-producer who did a splendid ten minute short that if we can sustain that same quality over a hundred minutes will assure we end up with a great film. I wasn't sure this was the guy until I met with him and he showed me two notebooks filled with plastic page protectors for all the insurance forms, contracts, agreements, receipts, and further proof that he's good at all the shit work that makes a film.

I wasn't sure this was the guy until he told me he wanted to find locations (the worst job there is), and that he wasn't going to take the job unless his wife liked the script as much as he did. She did and I hired him. He's ambitious, organized, believes in the script, gets the whole Bowfinger thing, and knows that shit work produces a film not the fun creative stuff. Oh, I got hundreds of people eager to see a first cut and give me notes in the comfort of a dark air conditioned room. But what I need are just a few willing to sit in heavy traffic under a hot sun to track down the perfect family restaurant owned by a fella willing to let us in for free. This may be the guy. We'll see. But I like him and think he'll make a great partner.

Found a composer. Not any composer. A real composer. He's done features you've heard of and currently scores a couple television shows. He likes to help new filmmakers, contacted me through a friend, and said if the script was great he'd do it. He loved the script and agreed to score it if we can marshall the forces to get it on film. He asked me a great question too. When I started talking about the type of music I was interested in, he asked me to send him what I listened to while writing the script. Is that brilliant or what? It's the smartest question anyone's ever asked me.

The Budget: Met with one of those boutique agencies I discussed in last weeks diary. Told them I wouldn't meet with them unless they brought a detailed estimate. They did. And wouldn't you know it was a mere $500 less than my entire budget! Never saw that coming. Of course that leaves nothing for locations, meals, set decoration, and tape stock. (They always think you have more money and want ALL of it). But he paid for my waffles and now I have the prices and rates needed to create a budget for these supposed investors. A sucker play, but I'm in no position to let my common sense get in the way of even a no shot at a few more thousand dollars.

Still trying to hunt down a DP and Sound Engineer. These are going to be the hardest roles to fill even though I'm paying them with the equipment we use once the film's over. I've just posted a want ad on Craig's List and will hit the film schools this week with fliers. Once these positions are locked, the groundwork is being built to roll out the rest. And if my co-producer is what he promises to be... Well, we'll see. If he flakes, he's gone. I'll do it my damn self.

Finally I want to thank Jason and Govindini from Libertas for having dinner with the Hot Little Number and I and letting us pick their brains late into Friday night. Being able to learn from two smart people who've already been through it was invaluable. We also had a helluva good time.

Diary Of An Indie Filmmaker: Chapter III

Chapter III: The Movie's Easier To Produce Than A Budget

I got a guy out here who says he has access to investors. I don't believe him because everyone puffs themselves up to be able to do more than they really can, but what am I supposed to do? I can't blow the guy off even though every instinct tells me he's full of shit. With a few more thousand dollars I can film at the amusement park instead of stealing the shots. I can cater the food instead of cooking all night. And that's just with a few more thousand. This guy's talking $25,000. Dirty Harry can blow him off. Bowfinger cannot.

So, you need a budget to show the investors. So, you get the books and get on-line to figure out how to do it and you do it grudgingly because you know this guy's full of it and you know you took the bait again and you know you're wasting your time and you know you could be watching television but you do it because you're Bowfinger dammit and if you stop being Bowfinger now what's gonna happen when things get real tough? *inhale*

But it's all useless. The books and everything else are useless. Any asshole can get a list of what he needs and add it up. And that's all the books show you how to do. But to get a budget you have to know how much things cost and that's what the books don't tell you. Because they can't. Because they have absolutely no fucking idea either. Sure, a studio can do it. A big budget film can do it. But at this level it's impossible. Which isn't to say I didn't try.

In Hollywood there are a number of what you might call boutique production companies. Three guys who've never felt the touch of a woman or warm water sold drugs to buy equipment and make movies... Man. And they're all over. And the internet's been Viagra to this business. As has digital video. They produce pulp sexy or violent shorts and make a little money distributing them on the internet. And for a price they'll make your movie. For a price they have the equipment and know-how to get it on film. So, I called a few figuring this would help me create a budget. And after explaining my Bowfinger Philosophy to them (as they surfed cable channels on the other end), the calls all went something like this:

Me: "So, I'm wondering what you charge?"

Them: "Depends. What's your budget?"

Me: "Well, that's what I'm trying to figure out. So, if you could give me an idea of what you charge a day..."

Them: "Well, that depends on the budget. We wouldn't charge you what we'd charge James Cameron."

Me: "You've produced a 33 minute film called, 'Gut Me' and have James Cameron rates?

Them: "Hey, Bowfinger, you're gonna discuss reality with me?

Me: Okay, fine. Just give me a daily rate. A hundred? Five hundred?

Them: "How much money you got?"

Me: "Twenty thousand."

Them: "We'll take it."

Me: "But I got other things. I got location expenses. I got--"

Them: "How many locations"

Me: "Twenty-eight."

Them: "Dude, send me the script. I'll get it down to four. We can do it right here."

Laugh all you want. But what was unthinkable when I started has just become Plan B.

Diary Of An Indie Filmmaker Part II

CHAPTER II: Smashing The Vase

So, you've got yourself a script. And it's a beautiful thing. Three years and ten drafts later you've finally got it. There it is. And you were smarter than many; You perfected the blueprint before starting the skyscraper; You suffered years of hellacious criticism but sucked it up, admitted they were right, and rewrote: You resisted the temptation to simply declare it done so you could start filming. Well, whoop-de-friggin'-doo because that was the easy part.

Now you have to take this precious vase you've created, throw it against the wall, jump up and down on the pieces, sweep 'em up, lay 'em on a table, and sort 'em out. Because that's the only way you can begin to understand what's needed to tell this story through pictures. Scripts break into acts, then sequences, then scenes, and finally shots. Each scene requires a certain amount of shots to tell it's story. And until you know what shots you need, you can't make a movie.

So, that's what me and The Hot Little Number did. We gave each scene, no matter how small, it's own dedicated page. That's 154 pages. Each page lists what we need to get the shot; be it actors, props, etc... Also, I've storyboarded each scene to break them into the aforementioned individual shots. And was that a learning experience.

I knew I didn't know shit about directing, but it wasn't until I started storyboarding that I learned I knew less than shit. It took three months to storyboard and the difference between the first scene and the last... Well, you'd think a retarded monkey got a hold of it. A "retarded" monkey. But I'm treating the storyboards like a script; rewriting them until they're great. Time I have. But that's the easy part because I need so much more than that to get the shots.

Now, some shots require more than others, but all shots require a place to shoot, or, a location. By breaking the script down I know exactly how many locations I need. So, I break those down into categories of difficulty. An establishing shot of a house or business can be stolen. I'd prefer not to do that, but I know I can get those shots if I need to so they're the least of my concerns. I need eight vehicles and seven residences. I have friends, the cast and crew will have cars and homes, I can probably find those. After, of course, I find a cast and crew. And friends. But it's the public and business locations that worry me.

I have 15 business locations where I'll need permission to shoot. It's overwhelming. But I remain faithful to The Bowfinger Principle of not allowing reality to intrude on my goals and attack them one at a time. Each one a victory. Each one a step in the right direction.

And that's how you have to look at the script; one piece at a time. It's the only way to avoid quitting from a severe case of being overwhelmed. You can't eat a barrel of M&M's all at once. But over time you can do that and more. Making a film is not putting a jigsaw puzzle together. Making a film is creating the pieces of the puzzle so the editor can put it together. And it's a thousand pieces. And if you miss one, you're screwed. And you have no money. And you have no help.

I guess reality's just gonna have to kiss my ass.

Diary Of An Indie Filmmaker Part 1

NOTE: As I go through the, what is sure to be a yearlong process of making an independent film, I'll be chronicling my adventures (when they're interesting) here.

CHAPTER 1: THE WHY'S?

1. Why make an independent film? Why go through all the hassles, expense, headaches, setbacks, annoyances, and loss of precious sitting-in-front-of-the-tv time just to jump into something you'll be lucky anybody sees?

Well, the answer's simple: Life's too fucking short not to. According to this website my life's already half over. What am I gonna do? Spend it commuting to a job I feel fortunate enough not to hate? That's not living. I love movies. I think I can make a good one. I'm over 21. So, I'm gonna make one. So there. It's about the experience. It's gonna be an adventure.

2. Why not go about it the normal way? Why not work your way into the Hollywood system?

I've been out here two years. I've written 5 scripts and optioned two of them. I'm not setting the world on fire, but am doing better than most. But I've encountered a small problem along the way: With two exceptions (out of dozens), everyone I've dealt with out here's a prick. And like I said before, life's to short. I didn't come out here to get rich. I left my beautiful home in the Carolinas to have an adventure. Prick's make it a miserable adventure -- even when they're offering you money. So, I'm done with pricks.

A few months ago a company of pricks wanted a script of mine. Thankfully, I already knew they were pricks, and said, "no." They took back the carrot, brought out the stick, and asked again. I still told them "no," though my voice may have quivered a bit that time. Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't turning down fame and riches here for some high-minded principle. But it certainly wouldn't have hurt my career to say, "yes." But I'm done with pricks. At the time that "no" was a very hard decision. But looking back? No regrets. Not a one.

3. Why do you think you can do it?

Because I'm applying The Bowfinger Philosophy to this project. In other words, I have no intention of allowing reality to intrude on my goals. Anyone can make a movie. Do you know how many movies there are where some "auteur" dashed out a script, grabbed a digital camcorder, got a few actors/friends, and shot the thing in apartments, parks, and bus stops? Those movies are everywhere. And they all suck. Not because of the budget. They suck because the filmmaker was lazy. The script's rushed, the actors aren't very good, and it looks terribly confined to it's few locations.

Not mine. I've got 28 locations, 2 starring roles, 6 major supporting roles, and 23 minor roles. For a $20,000 movie that's more than ambitious -- it's completely insane. Which is why I've been forced to embrace The Bowfinger Philosophy. Because I think it can be done, and achieving it has very little to do with money, and everything to do with effort and persistence.

Listen, You can waste a hundred hours making those camcorder movies or spend a thousand hours making a great movie. I'd rather spend a thousand than waste a hundred.

I just have to take the time to find and secure locations that will let me in cheap. I just have to take the time to find and secure great actors willing to work for free. I just have to take the time to find a talented cinematographer and sound engineer willing to work in exchange for the equipment we'll be using. That's about hustle. I can hustle. And have been. It's also about organization which is why The Hot Little Number I Call Mrs. Harry is my partner. There's more to her than just a pretty face, don't you know. We're on this adventure together and are already planning the next one.

And I do have three things going for me: A great script, a high definition camera, and post-production already secured. Editor's in love with the script, has cut a feature already, and hopefully won't flake. He's also a relative, but I'm sure that has nothing to do with it.

4. What's your goal with the film?

I want it to be great. I want to make a masterpiece. I want to make a film that when it's over people can't wait to see it again. Aren't those the best kind? I want to see it released in theaters and win awards and screen at festivals and make enough money so I can make another one. And I want it to be the beginning of great things for all those who took the leap with me. Then I want to record the Tenth Anniversary DVD commentary with them and laugh at memories of how we almost got caught stealing shots here and almost got arrested there.

5. What if you fail?

It will be a great failure. An epic failure. I will not fail small. I will not fail with a *peep*. I will go down in a bankrupt ball of flaming humiliation that will be impossible to recover from. I will go down hard but my fists will still be balled. I've tasted regret and I've tasted failure. I'll take failure any day.

Because life's too fucking short to wonder if you should've when you had the chance.