for Nicolas
The last few years have been a period of great growth in my artistic life. I left the United States knowing that I wanted to become a filmmaker, specifically a writer and director. This was the extent of my knowledge on the subject. Over many years, sometimes painful, sometimes exhilarating, I have learned a few things that I would like to share. To supplement this article I will show the two films I made while in Germany.
I see five developmental phases in becoming a filmmaker. A person can be at any one phase at different times in their life; some can get stuck in one or another. A velleity is “a wish or inclination not strong enough to lead to action.” For many people, filmmaking remains a velleity. For the others it goes something like this:
1. Appreciation
Every filmmaker starts out as an appreciator. Their emotional involvement in film drives them to seek out vast and varied quantities of films. The people who remain in this stage become critics or film buffs. I did this for many years before I knew I had to become a filmmaker. There were periods where I would watch 10 films a week. This phase, while beautiful, can also be a trap for those who want to make their own films. A film buff is not a filmmaker. In Bambi versus Godzilla, David Mamet wrote of a patient of Karen Horney’s:
“a neurotic who could never complete anything. She impeded now by this, now by that mischance and was eternally blighted and blocked, just on the edge of the creation of a great work. Ever saddened but still valiant, she pressed on, content in her own untested but undoubted abilities.”
I see two reasons why people shy away from creative work: fear and ego. A work is always perfect in the mind of its creator, because it does not exist in a form that can be evaluated. Ego prevents the person from making things that could be good or bad, and often prevents them from finishing work they deem not up to their standards. In doing so this person remains “content in their untested but undoubted abilities.” I went through this period for a long time before making my first post-college foray into the second phase of becoming a filmmaker.
2. Experimentation
People make thousands of films in the world every year. 3,661 feature length films were submitted to Sundance in 2009. I assume that most of these films are unwatchable, and most likely a burden on those who are forced to choose among them. This is not a criticism of the filmmakers: anyone who has the courage to make a film should be lauded. People are often blinded by the sheer amount of effort they put into things. They lose the ability to be objective about their own work. Early films should be made for a love of the process and what it teaches you. Most of them are unsuitable for film festivals. In a creative writing course I took a girl once wrote: “A poem is not always meant to be shared.” The same can be applied to films. A story from my life;
I moved to Dortmund on a Fulbright Scholarship after college. There, determined to become a world-renowned filmmaker, I set out to make a film. As I have mentioned elsewhere, the first book I bought on film-making was a festival guide. I figured I was brilliant enough to skip the other stuff like story, directing actors, mise en scene and all the things that make a movie meaningful. I went out with a friend who graciously brought his own camera and filmed me on this bizarre stunt. The story originally called for two actors, which I could not find due to the incomprehensibility of the script, which I rewrote, casting myself as the only character.
The film centered around a suicide. The young artist, afraid of being banal, often chooses the most difficult topics imaginable. I once saw a 10 minute short film that tried to address incest, rape, suicide, homosexuality and exile. Needless to say none of these topics were adequately presented. The filmmaker, after the film ended, quickly leapt into a half-hour long explanation of her intentions, none of which were on the screen before us. It is wise to remember the words of Robert Bresson:
“A small subject can provide the pretext for many profound combinations. Avoid subjects that are too vast or too remote, in which nothing warns you if they are going astray. Or else take from them only what can be mingled with your life and belongs to your experience.”
In my film, I play a young man who goes to an abandoned industrial complex to commit suicide. When he gets to the final act, he sees that the knife is from IKEA. There is also an IKEA store in the background. It is enough to convince him not to kill himself. The idea that I failed to express was the ubiquity of corporate culture; the end product made little sense. While editing this film, I told myself that I would most definitely send it to Cannes. I was interested in the result of the film, i.e. being screened in a world class festival and achieving international renown. I should have been interested in the process of making the film: writing a good screenplay, getting good performances from the actors, and creating a meaningful visual presentation of the story.
I forced this film on my close friends and brother. It was uncomfortable for them; you can walk away from a bad painting; not so with a bad film. Afterwards I, like the girl with the suicide/rape/incest film, immediately felt the need to explain/defend what I had done. I was forced to because my film was incomprehensible. Out of fear and ego I was afraid to seek out honest criticism while writing the script, where it usually is most useful. As they say; paper is cheap, film is expensive.
I was so disappointed I didn’t make another film for a year and a half; expectations kill art. Filmmakers don’t make masterpieces; critics do. Filmmakers make films. The film, aptly titled Intervention, can be seen here:
Intervention from Jason B Kohl on Vimeo.
3. Reflection
The filmmaker has made his first work and it did not go off as expected. The ego is shattered. I spent a year and a half here, daydreaming, watching ten movies a week, and writing short screenplays that were never produced. It is a matter of expectation how well your first film goes. If you expect to learn about filmmaking, as you should, then it is a wonderful experience to make a film. If you expect to immediately be seen at the next Godard/Tarkovsky/Cassavetes/Spielberg, expect to be as dissapointed as I was. My desire to apply to the DffB (German Film and Television Academy in Berlin) pulled me out of the slump and into my next film.
4. Dedication
If one can overcome the dissapointment associated with a large ego and even larger expectations, one realizes that it is only through a lot of hard work that one becomes good at anything. I quoted Rilke in my UCLA Statement of Purpose: “that something is difficult must be a reason the more for us to do it.”
It was once remarked that writing is the only field where someone thinks that they can sit down at a keyboard and write the next Crime and Punishment. Everyone can type; not everyone can write. People do not start the piano with Mozart, they start with Hot Cross Buns. Hot cross buns is a simple tune consisting of three notes that children learn to play on the Recorder in America;
Robert Rodriguez says that every filmmaker has about 12 bad films in him. I think this is a bit of an exaggeration. I would guess that every filmmaker, in our day and age of cheap technology, has at least one Hot Cross Buns film in him. You make them and you learn from them. Filmmaking, like playing the piano, has a lot to do with practice.
I read a lot of books, did a lot of writing and thinking, and scrapped most of the projects out of fear or because the ideas were too difficult or nonsensical. I learned from every one of them, and I kept trying. I also took a year long course (in German) at the Wolfgang Pfeiffer Screenwriting School here in Berlin. It helped ground me. You can’t learn characters and theme, but, as Alexander Mackendrick says, you can learn plot. Only after making a film like Intervention did I realize how badly I needed to.
I made my next film because the application for the DffB required it. I spent more time on the story than ever before, but had only two weeks from casting to the final cut. Dedication allowed me to complete this short, the production of which was especially chaotic. The lead actor eventually abandoned me over a script conflict. I realized that the screenplay is just the beginning. One small anecdote that I find useful:
We shot the film on a Sony SR-11 videocamera. My lead actor, who was a professional german television actor, was made uncomfortable by this;
“Can’t we get a bigger camera?” He asked. His assumption was that same as many filmmakers, namely that better equipment would make a better film. Equipment does not affect the most important parts of a film; the script, the actors and where you put the camera. Save your money on your first films. There is so much to learn.
I would recommend not working with professional actors for early films. Their experience can make can make them difficult to work with for a novice. Inexperienced directors will inevitably frustrate them, as I certainly did.
I was happier with this film, called “Forst.” It’s far from a masterpiece, and still fairly incomprehensible, due in part to my taking a poor suggestion in the editing from a more experienced filmmaker friend. I had however, despite all obstacles, made another film. There is a definite improvement over the first one:
Forst from Jason B Kohl on Vimeo.
5. Affirmation
With each film you make, you learn. Certain problems disappear and are replaced by new ones. With a more sensical script you can focus more on the actors and on and on. Watching the quality of your films improve is one of the greatest parts of this job, which for most offers little financial reward. Regardless of your level of satisfaction with a film you’ve made, be proud to have made one. Every time you do you get better. Don’t worry about festivals, worry about films. When you have something you think is good enough, send it in. Try to remain objective about your work.
I was accepted into UCLA Film School in the middle of June. I was very grateful for the offer, which I accepted. I had delayed applying to film schools for two years because I knew I would not be ready. It is much better to learn the things I talked about in this article on your own. A film school will teach you the storytelling and technical skills to make the films you want to make. They will not lead you by the hand to success. The virtues that you cultivate in your private life and work will be strengthened there. Nothing comes from nothing.
The last thing I would like to say about becoming a filmmaker is that it is not a small choice. Making good films take an inordinate amount of time and effort. There are sacrifices that will have to be made to produce anything at all, let alone something of quality. Learn to organize your life to allow yourself time to focus on your craft. Set goals for yourself and evaluate your progress on your way to achieving them. Most importantly make things; it’s the only way you learn. Don’t be afraid of the small camera or the small film; they’re the ones that often stay with us the most.
George Lucas said for years that he wanted to make a small, personal film. The man is worth four billion dollars; I don’t think it’s going to happen. While we would all like to have four billion dollars we don’t. Do what Lucas can’t, and also try to get a hold of his thesis film from USC. It’s a testament to William Goldman’s statement that “Nobody Knows Anything.” Here’s a clip:
The last film I shot, “The Prettiest Girl in the Village,” is in post-production. I will post it on this site when it is finished. I still have a lot to learn, but this is what I’ve taken from the last three years. If you want more production disaster stories and detailed commentary on the videos, feel free to friend me on Vimeo, my username is Jasonbkohl.
“There is no failure unless you stop.”
-A Ray Bradbury quote that hangs above my desk.
