These campaigns are a lot of work, a full time job even, as Koo chronicles in his excellent post which you can read here: http://nofilmschool.com/2011/09/how-i-raised-125000-on-kickstarter/

In the spirit of all this I’m going to discuss the career of Drake Doremus, whose film Like Crazy, shot on the 7D, won this year’s Sundance Film Festival. Here’s the trailer:

Like Crazy sold for FOUR MILLION DOLLARS (read about it here) to Paramount at Sundance. Not bad for a first feature, right? Except it’s not his first feature; it’s his fourth. And he went to film school at AFI before that. And he’s only 28.

Drake Doremus is a symbol of a new model of filmmaker; the kind who makes a lot of movies, for cheap, while he’s learning his craft. If you look at Doremus’s career prior to Like Crazy, you can see a nice progression.

Moonpie (2006): Hollywood Film Festival, Hamburg Film Festival, Indie Film Festival

Spooner (2009): Slamdance, Newport Beach, Sonoma

Douchebag (2010): Sundance (Competition)

Smaller festivals into larger festivals. Small budgets, small deals and a lot of practice. None of these films cost more than $300,000. Some of them cost much less. None of them are as good as Like Crazy, but without them, Like Crazy would never have been possible. Doremus does have a special background; his mother Cherie Kerr was the founder of the Groundlings, a famous LA-Based acting school and theater. He also paid his dues though, teaching at the Orange County High School for the arts.

As I wrote in an article on Sofia Coppola’s short film, connections don’t mean talent; talent means talent. And talent takes time. So go forth and make a lot of movies. They’re not all going to be good, but they will each make the next one better. The kind of perseverance it takes to make four low-budget feature films is the same as that which is necessary to have a career as an independent film director. You all get the point, so I’m going to end with a wonderful quote from Ira Glass, also via Nofilmschool.

It seems I underestimated the importance of this trend. Microbudgets ($250,000 or less) have been a major launching pad since long before the nineties. If your short films don’t get into a major festival (and even if they do), this may become a route for you.

Here’s a list of directors and their first feature films which fall into this category:

John Sayles, Return of the Secaucus 7 ($60,000)

Bryan Singer, Public Access ($250,000)

Spike Lee, She’s Gotta Have It ($175,000)

Christopher Nolan, Following (6,000 pounds)

Darren Aronofsky, Pi ($20,000)

Todd Haynes, Poison ($250,000)

Robert Rodriguez, El Mariachi ($7,000)

Tobe Hooper, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (< $300,000)

David Lynch, Eraserhead ($10,000)

Wes Craven, The Last House On The Left ($90,000)

Kevin Smith, Clerks ($25,000)

Neil Labute, In The Company of Men ($25,000)

Richard Linklater, Slacker ($23,000)

Jim Jarmusch, Permanent Vacation ($12,000)

George Romero, Night of The Living Dead ($114,000)

John Cassavetes, Shadows ($25,000)

Satayajit Ray, Pather Panchali (Under $40,000)

Gus Van Sant, Mala Noche ($25,000)

One objection that’s always raised in these discussions is that these figures don’t reflect how much it cost to finish (some) of these films. But the reality is, from the filmmaker’s side at least, it was enough to find someone who would pay to release the films.

Another interesting point here is that many, many of these films were shot ON FILM for less than many graduate thesis films cost.

Just as a clincher, here are Peter Broderick’s 9 principles of ultra-low budget filmmaking:

THE REVISED RULES OF ULTRA-LOW BUDGET

Although significantly enhanced by digital tools, much of the original ultra-low budget framework remains unchanged. In my 1993 article “Learning from Low Budgets,” I listed nine rules-of-thumb for microbudget production. Let’s examine how these rules have evolved from the early days of the model when every low budget feature was being shot on film until today when the vast majority of ultra-low budget features are made digitally.

Hell or High Water Commitment - A committed core group, determined to make a movie come hell or high water, is still essential.

No Nonsense Resource Assessment – Filmmakers start by assessing the resources they have and those they are certain they can find. It is essential to accurately determine the money, equipment, locations, crew, and post facilities that will definitely be available to the production.

For any digital production (especially one designed to be transferred to film), it is important to carefully research a series of technical issues (e.g. the best format, NTSC vs. PAL, audio recording to camera or DAT) to determine how the necessary image and sound quality can be achieved.

Realistic Scripting - The script is often written after the resource assessment. But whenever it is written or modified, it must be possible to make the scripted movie with the resources available. Shooting digitally rather than on film usually reduces the budget thus reducing the risk of running out of money during production.

Imaginative Financing - Every conceivable method is used to minimize and postpone expenditures. Digital makes both easier. It reduces the cost of production by eliminating the cost of film stock and processing, and camera rental. Digital also postpones, and in some cases eliminates, the cost of making film prints if filmmakers use digital projection at festivals. They often decide not to make a film print if theatrical distribution isn’t an option.

Recruiting Cast and Crew - It is essential to find capable cast and crew who will work for little or no compensation while enduring the rigors of ultra-low budget production. Shooting digitally may make it easier to attract actors who want the opportunity to give their best performances. For digital productions it is important to find a talented DP, who is either experienced in digital cinematography or committed to learning the fundamentals.

Pragmatic Planning - “Budgeting, scheduling, and other planning must me done carefully to maximize the use of limited resources and minimize problems.” This is especially true for digital production. As part of the extra technical research required, tests should be done prior to production. After a lab is chosen, footage should be shot using the designated camera under anticipated lighting conditions. Then the lab should transfer this footage to 35mm, and project it for the director and the DP. This makes it possible to optimize the camera settings in advance, and enables the director and DP to know exactly how their digital images will ultimately look on film. When shooting digitally it is also necessary to have a realistic plan about the audio postproduction path (especially if using PAL).

Guerrilla Production – Ultra-low budget production on film is usually short and intense since only a small shooting ratio (eg. 5:1) is affordable. When shooting digitally, the camera (or cameras) can be on most of the time leading to 20:1 and 30:1 shooting ratios. Using small digital cameras and a small crew enables inconspicuous production in real world locations, making it possible to capture reality rather than faking it. Owning a digital camera allows greater scheduling flexibility. When I asked Gary Winick when he was going to finish shooting his first digital feature, Sam the Man, he replied, “Tonight if it rains.” Digital production can also be much longer, with more shooting days spread over an extended schedule.

Extended Postproduction – Postproduction on film can require significant amounts of cash for equipment rental, lab work, negative cutting, etc. This money is often raised in bits and pieces dragging out postproduction. Digital post is less resource intensive since more steps can be done on a desktop computer. The length of digital post is usually determined by creative rather than financial needs. Digital allows relatively quick and inexpensive recuts and can raise the question – when is the movie ever done?

Boundless Opportunism – Ultra-low budget filmmakers have to be able to create and take advantage of opportunities. Digital production allows more opportunities for creative choices throughout the process.

He goes on to discuss the formidable distribution hurdles facing microbudgets, which in my good spirits I’ll refrain from commenting on. You can read his whole article here.

A Son Like You: 17 Months

Jersey’s For Lovers: 12 Months

Honor Student: 8 Months

Between Us, A Dog: Still Unfinished (In Sound Design)

I’ve had many highs and lows throughout the postproduction of these films. This summer I decided that no matter what, all of them would be finished. In doing so I forced myself through the post-production process of locking picture, finding a composer, doing sound design and finally color correcting. It was difficult but very rewarding; you can learn a hell of a lot in color correction and sound work that will help you on your next project.

The way I got myself through it was to remember that sometimes something is good enough. Any of those films could have taken even more time in each of the processes, but I looked at the films and the deadlines I set for them and decided they were good enough. As a filmmaker you never know whether a film is good enough for Sundance, or Cannes or whatever festival you dream of going to. You can decide however when a film is good enough for you.

This summer I also embraced minimalism; owning only what you need to own, keeping only what you need to live. There are many similarities between finishing your film and embracing minimalism. There’s a tremendous feeling of accomplishment with every film you finish, every closet you clear, every shelf you liberate.

Some some of your films might go to the shelf, while others will go to vimeo or festivals, but every one is a triumph. So the next time you’re sitting at your computer, thinking about the unfinished projects, just ask yourself, “Is it good enough to finish now?”

When you export that final file, you’ll feel a sense of freedom and accomplishment that you can bring to your next project. It’s a wonderful place to be.

I thought it would be a fun exercise to start doing this with friends and people I meet along my way to becoming a filmmaker. Here’s the first one, by my friend Dylan Murray, studying for his PhD in Philosophy at Berkeley.

 
“I guess it was one of the first, well, one of the only times I remember feeling genuinely scared.”

“All your horses are a mirror to your soul, and sometimes you might not like what you see there.” -Buck

On Friday night I saw the premiere of Buck, the 2011 Sundance Documentary Audience Award winner at the Landmark. This has been a good year for movies, but none has stood out so significantly for me as this documentary about a horse whisperer.

I’m not particularly interested in horses. The last time I rode one was seventeen years ago and it almost broke both my legs. My girlfriend loves documentaries and wanted me to come so I agreed to join her.

When we got to the landmark, we literally got the last two seats in the second row in a three hundred seat theater. As we craned our necks to see the massive screen in front of us I prepared myself for a bumpy night.

I couldn’t have been more wrong; this film is simply remarkable. The story follows Buck Brannaman, a man who endured an abusive childhood to become a horse-whisperer with almost christ-like abilities to deal with troubled horses and owners.

What I realized while watching the film was how incredibly similar training horses is to directing actors. Both need rehearsal and are rife with interpersonal conflict. In both the performance of the actor relies heavily  on the personality, experience, and preparation of the trainer; it is a reflection of his soul.

Human beings are not horses, but we do have an innate and intense ability to read one another. I cannot count how many times I have gone into a rehearsal upset, frustrated or unprepared, only to end up with unproductive rehearsal or an alienated actor.

Buck says early in the piece that “one of the biggest things a horseman learns to do is to control his emotions.” A director’s mood, tone and posture all consciously or unconsciously affect his actors. Actors are extremely aware of their directors; if a director becomes upset, the actors will often rely on various defense mechanisms to protect themselves. Once this trust is broken it becomes nearly impossible for the actor to give a full and honest performance.

One of my favorite teachers here says that we cast for the superobjective of an actor; that internal goal or struggle that defines their lives. As directors we try to look into actor’s souls and see whether we can use what we find to create our dramas.

What we too often forget is that the people we cast and the performances they give are also a reflection of our souls. What a serious and remarkable responsibility to have.

Good short films rarely take place in more than a day. Some of the best I’ve seen, Sikumi for instance, take place in more or less real time. Shorts like this, really just extended scenes, don’t have to grapple with time transitions.

Transitions are perhaps the most difficult storytelling device to execute. It not just a problem for filmmakers; Leo Tolstoy once listed his priorities as a writer in the following order:

1. Transitions

2. Context

3. Story

4. Character

For filmmakers, the shorter the time transition, the more difficult it is to execute. Anytime you see or write LATER in a screenplay, that should be a red flag. Highlight it, fear it, and respect it. Put your director cap on and ask yourself: “How am I going to show this in images?”

If you’re already struggling with one of these in post there are many ways filmmakers deal with them in the editing room. Repurposing footage, ADR,  and prayer come to mind.

Unfortunately the latter rarely helps, so reshooting footage at a significant expense sometimes becomes the only option. There’s no shame in this; Woody Allen budgets for massive reshoots on every film, David Fincher reshot Seven for 12 days. The expense makes this an unrealistic option for many filmmakers. Depending on the project, sometimes it makes more sense to walk away.

So avoid those difficult decisions by getting out that highlighter and marking every transition. Storyboard them out; are you going from a wide to a close-up? Why? How do you show that?

Just as you rewrite a script and revise performances in rehearsal, so should you also constantly be revisiting your visual strategy for the film, ideally with the Director of Photography.

Particularly for difficult action sequences (one film I’m working on involves hanging a dead body from a tree), storyboards should be done and redone for weeks before the shoot.

One book I’ve found very helpful in visual planning is Gustavo Mercado’s The Filmmaker’s Eye, one of the few cinematography books that’s both aesthetically gorgeous and eminently practical.

In filmmaking I’ve learned the hard way that a director is only as good as her preparation. Final cut pro doesn’t have a story transition filter. That’s our job as directors.

Fran’s Daughter by Eric Martin is the compelling story of a woman who learns she may have been switched at birth. You can see the trailer here:

It’s screening in the Narrative Shorts 1 program on Saturday March 12th at 11 am at the Alamo Lamar A. Additional screenings will be held

• Tuesday March 15 3:30PM – Alamo Ritz 2
• Wednesday March 16 11:00 AM Alamo Lamar A

Love Analysis is a very funny short by Lucas Mireles. The tagline is in the poster below:

Screening Friday, March 11 @ 11:30 PM in the Alamo Ritz 2

Sunday, March 13th 11:15 PM Alamo Lamar B

Saturday, March 19th 11:30 PM Alamo Ritz 2

some things to figure out before attaching yourself

Recently the writer I’m working with completed his first draft of the feature we’re developing for me to direct in Michigan (despite the recent death knells for the tax rebate.) I also  signed with my first manager, so it became time for the writer and I to start making our collaboration official.

Because we’re at a stage where we don’t know exactly what budget we’ll be putting the movie together at, an option/purchase agreement wouldn’t have been appropriate to attach myself to the script. An option may come later, but for right now I just wanted to make sure that I’m legally bound to the script as the director.

What we needed was a director attachment agreement, a legal document saying in effect that when this movie is made I will be the one to direct it. It gives me peace of mind for all the time I’ve spent developing the script, as well as beginning to make contacts for the financing of it as well.

When I went online to research director attachment agreements, I came up with nada. While I’ve heard that this is somewhat common, the most common attachment agreement generally happens between a producer raising financing and an actor whose name could help raise that financing.

To that end I took an actor attachment agreement and modified it myself, then put that modified agreement past my attorney, who made some minor but important changes. I offer this template up to all of you directors out there who have been meaning to attach yourself to that script you’ve been developing, but haven’t found the appropriate documentation. Always have this stuff checked over by an attorney, but it’s much better to have your own templates for them to review to cut down on those billable hours.

Click on the link below to download:

Director_Attachment_Template

Where is your dream premiere? For this film it's Tribeca.

I recently attended a seminar held at UCLA on festival strategy and thought I would elaborate on my own. At this point in my career I’m near completion on two short films, gearing up for shooting another, and am searching for financing for my first feature, which I’m developing with a writer.

I think that there are a series of questions you can ask yourself about which film festivals to apply to, which I’ll elaborate upon here, using myself as an example.

The major questions I asked myself were:

1. Who Am I?

I’m a white, straight, Austrian-American man who was born and raised in Michigan.

2. Where do I want to work?

I want to shoot and work in Michigan, Los Angeles, and the German speaking countries (Germany, Austria and Switzerland).

3. What kind of career do I want (what kind filmmaker am I)?

I’m a hybrid; I’m interested in having a career like Gus Van Sant or Steven Soderbergh, where you make both larger pictures and smaller pictures, understanding that certain films have a greater market value (and thus an ability to support you financially) than others.

4. What do I expect to get out of festivals?

I would like to network, be able to put “his films have screened at numerous festivals” on my resume, and ideally also be able to add “Including x prestigious festivals (Cannes, Sundance, SXSW, Berlin) which would add more credibility to my resume as a director. I also have two feature film projects I’m developing to shoot in Michigan. I’m interested in meeting producers, crew, actors and financiers who I could collaborate with on them.

5. What kind of film do I have?

I have a short dramatic piece with some comedic elements.

6. How good is it?

It has strong performances and lighting, good writing, and ok production values. There are also a few awkward transitions in it. It might have a shot at a larger festival, but will most likely do better at smaller festivals.

7. How much money do I have?

Let’s say I have $500 budgeted for festival entries, low by some standards, high by others. Another rule I’m going to set myself is no more than $35 for an entry fee for a short film. This is already approaching highway robbery, and paying $50 to enter a short film is either a scam or just plain too expensive. The way for this to work is to only submit to early bird deadlines, which will require, like all aspects of filmmaking, planning and discipline.

8. When am I applying?

Festivals happen at different times. This is self-explanatory.

So, there are a lot of different festivals that can suit these specific needs.

Because I’m a white, straight man (and this is the kind of film I made) of the niche festivals (gay, black, asian) and festival sections (like the Teddy awards at the Berlin Film Fest) are closed to me. These are excellent places to build a community around your film, and some of the festivals even pay rental fees.

But let’s look at the places I want to work:

The Local List

I’m interested in meeting people in film and potential investors in my home state of Michigan, which has a number of local festivals that I would be interested in applying to:

Now comes the research:

• Ann Arbor Film Festival: Upon researching this festival, it seems to lean heavily toward experimental, which discounts my film.
• The Michigan Film Festival (in Grand Rapids): Seems promising, but the deadline was in November, so I’ll have to put it on a list. The entry fee reads $40, but that seems to be for all films, if shorts are $30 or under, I’ll submit, otherwise goodbye Grand Rapids.
• The Detroit Independent Film Festival: It’s small and young (second run in March), but that also means it’s probably easier to get into. Bonus: The earlybird deadline is free. Will apply next year.
• The Traverse City Film Festival: One of the most prestigious festivals (along with Ann Arbor), Michael Moore has really helped spruce this one up. The entries are by invitation only though, so I’ll have to get in somewhere else and pitch it to them, or hopefully (unlikely) they’ll ask me.
• The Saugatuck Film Festival: I’ve heard about this one from family friends. It has two categories that could be interesting: Michigan Films, for filmmakers from Michigan, and the shorts section. Both are $30, which feels steep for a non-competitive film festival of this kind. It’s still within my price-range though, and the deadline is appropriate, so I’ll apply.
• The East Lansing Film Festival: Has a couple of sections that look interesting, but it just ended and I can’t even find the price for now.

The A List

So, now we look at A list festivals. There are two lists to go by for this that I know of. The first one is Chris Gore’s from his festival guide. I’ve heard he’s slipping a bit, but here’s his domestic list (indicates price * = no entry fee):

1. Sundance (Early Bird: $35 )
2. SXSW (Early Bird: $25)
3. AFI Fest (Regular: $50)
4. Los Angeles (Early: $30)
5. Tribeca (Early: $25)
6. Telluride (Student: $35, Short: $45)
7. San Francisco International (Early: $35)
8. Seattle International (Early: $35)
9. Denver International (Early: $25)
10. Cinequest ($45?)

And his international list:

1. Toronto (no US shorts)
2. Cannes (*)
3. Berlin (*)
4. Rotterdam (*)
5. Oldenburg (Early Bird: 10 euros)
6. Durban (*)
7. London (*)
8. Melbourne (AUS $70 seems high for shorts)
9. Vancouver ($30 US)
10. Tokyo (*)

The Art-House List

The last list for the big festivals I’m going to look at comes from the 100 New Directors book I wrote about a while back. The curators of that book asked the heads of 10 major international festivals to pick their top 10 new directors. The festivals also have a less anglo/western drive to them. Those festivals were:

1. Toronto (doesn’t accept american shorts)
2. Sundance
3. Pusan (*)
4. Hong Kong (Early: $40)
5. Locarno (couldn’t find the fees)
6. Venice (also couldn’t find)
7. Cannes (no fee for shorts)
8. Istanbul (couldn’t find)
9. Berlin (50 euros for shorts)
10. Buenos Aires (*)

Some overlap to be sure but interesting festivals nonetheless. The festivals that hit multiple categories (Where I want to work and Top 10) get italicized as well. For a comprehensive list of entry-free fests check this filmmaker magazine article out.

The Short List

The last section of festivals I’ll look at are the major short film festivals. The following list comes from a short-film buyer interviewed in Sharon Badal’s excellent book on short film distribution called Swimming Upstream. I figure since this guy spends his time buying short films, he probably knows what the good festivals are:

The top festivals I always try to attend are:

• Clermont-Ferrand (*)
• Aspen Shortsfest (Early bird: $40)
• Toronto Worldwide Festival of Short Films ($35)
• Palm Springs Short Film Festival (Student: $30, Non-Student: $40)
• Cinemajove (*)
• Newport Beach ($30)
• Sao Paolo (*)
• Vila Do Conde (*)
• Edinburgh (Early: 20 pounds)
• Rio de Janiero (*)
• Previously mentioned festivals (Sundance, AFI, Cannes, Tribeca, Los Angeles)

Another very exhaustive list. The only one I would add to that is Oberhausen in Germany.

The last list to look at for short films is the academy qualifying list: http://www.oscars.org/awards/academyawards/rules/shortsfestivals.html

The next steps are to research the festivals to make sure my film fits, get out my calendar, and submit regularly until I’m out of money. This sort of discipline is difficult, but it is one of many (writing comes to mind) that young filmmakers have to master. One filmmaker who visited our class had an incredibly detailed four-page spreadsheet with seven completed columns on basically every festival in the world. His thesis film premiered at Telluride and he recently sold his first feature at Toronto. That’s a lot of discipline. To recap:

The key questions in festival strategy are:

• Who am I?
• What do I have?
• What do I want it to do for me?
• What date is it?
• How much money do I have?

Being realistic and strategic when answering these questions will most likely make all the difference.

QUESTION:WHAT IS DRAMA? DRAMA, AGAIN, IS THE QUEST OF THE HERO TO OVERCOME THOSE THINGS WHICH PREVENT HIM FROM ACHIEVING A SPECIFIC, *ACUTE* GOAL.

SO: WE, THE WRITERS, MUST ASK OURSELVES *OF EVERY SCENE* THESE THREE QUESTIONS.

1) WHO WANTS WHAT?
2) WHAT HAPPENS IF HER DON’T GET IT?
3) WHY NOW?

These questions force you to establish the central tenets of your story:

1) The Goal

2) The Stakes

3) The Urgency

These are three essential components of drama:

The goal of the main character creates the beginning (establishing desire), middle (pursuing desire) and end (achieving or failing to achieve that desire) of your story.

The stakes show why it’s important to the protagonist (and by nature us the audience).

The urgency shows why it’s important that it happen NOW, i.e. in the course of your film and not 20 years from now.

I find these questions especially helpful when shaping the story initially. Art-house dramas can minimize aspects of this (you don’t need a bomb on a bus to have high stakes, but perhaps a relationship is at stake), but they are still essential. A film with a goalless character is interminable, like everyday life. Films like Tiny Furniture, while delightful, often have difficulty ending because there are no overarching goals for the protagonist. In Fargo on the other hand, after Marge catches the criminals the movie’s over, and we want it to be.

These questions are particularly important in writing the short film, which has an even more simple structure than a feature. A key aspect to the short film is finding a compelling goal that can reasonably be accomplished in the amount of time a short film allows.

You can read Mamet’s full post here.

See Also:

Is It A Story Or A Situation?

10 Problems With Student Scripts