Collaboration for Crazy People!

What film challenge you ask?

Over the last couple of months my b/f and his friend Jim Munroe have been organizing Toronto’s first Lo-Fi Sci-Fi 48-Hour film challenge. Each team had to write, shoot, and edit 5-minute, science fiction movie in 48 hours. And last weekend the race was on.

It was an interesting project for two reasons. One, I’d never participated in anything like that before. Collaborating with new people in a time-sensitive situation and seeing what you can come up with was a lot of fun.

But it was also interesting because I became involved in helping the event come together. That wasn’t my intention. I intended to help my b/f out a little by writing some copy for the website. Then I volunteered to project manage the creation of the site, and then I ended up liaisoning with art directors, printing the marketing materials and helping out at the actual screening. It was weird, because normally I’m really good at not doing anything. And there’s a chance that my involvement might damage my comfortable perception of myself as a fun-loving, lazy ass. Ah well, I’ll let my therapist sort out that noise.

Day 1: Friday Night Kick Off
Friday was the easy day. Sean and I met Ferdelle and the three of us hung out at a bar and banged out a rough story. Ferdelle was adept at identifying themes in the story and laying out the beats. Sean helped develop the story structure. Me, I helped inject some humour into the whole thing. I liked the story we came up with.

In a future, where everything’s for sale, our career-minded heroine Liz visits an underground Sleep-For-Sale laboratory. In her rush to get back to work, she injests sleep that is still contaminated with the sleeper’s dreams. With her consciousness tainted by the dreams of another, Liz experiences a trippy night of altered states and faces what she really thinks of herself.

Love the glowing jars of "sleep"!

It’s hard not being the Captain.
But collaboration is challenging. Especially when you’re not used to it. And my b/f was not used to it. He’s great at giving direction and taking direction. But the give and take of colloboration is new to him. So offering up ideas and having some of them get rejected was difficult for him. He felt like his ideas weren’t being heard. And I was like, “No we heard them. We just didn’t like all of them.” You can see how empathetic I was.

Day Two: Long Day and Longer Night
In any case, Saturday was a downer. My guy was in a negative space. I was disappointed. I had hoped this experience would be a fun way to bring us closer together. But instead the day was a boatload of tension. We either spoke to each other in careful, guarded tones or not at all. I didn’t want to be around him so I sequestered myself in the bedroom, closed the door and wrote the script.

Drinking sleep

It was a looooonnnng night though. Our extras didn’t finish until 12:00 and one stayed until 2:00am for her shots. At 3:00 I went for a coffee run at Mickey D’s and at 6:00am we packed up the gear and cabbed it home.

Day 3: Sleepless in Sean and Sasha’s place

Sean rocks out the camera

After the shoot, Sean and I stayed up all night editing. And I really mean all night. At 8:00am I showered, changed and went to work. And after work I went to the screening, worked the door and watched the shorts. It was cool to see what people had created during the 48-Hour Film Challenge.

Film must-haves: Dialogue, music and prop

The 48-Hour Film Challenge was far more work than I realized. And in the end, I felt that we had tried to shove too much into the 5 minutes we had so it was hard to follow. But it was fun too. Everyone was positive for the whole shoot. No one complained even though we were all exhausted. I learned a great deal about directing from Ferdelle, about working as a team and I even learned a bit more about my boyfriend too.

Would I do it again? Hells yeah! But I’d scale things back. We tried to do too much in too short a time. And while I’m young enough to pull the occasional all nighter, I am definitely too old to work all day, then all night, then all day again.

Unless, I could buy a jar of sleep.

I finished production. I found another eager and willing participant – a fab woman named Monika. And she was everything a doc filmmaker could want. Open, available and accessible. She likes to talk, share and tell stories. And though she’s hadn’t had much experience being in front of the camera, she was immediately comfortable with being filmed.

Monika gets all dolled up for the dance

In fact when she changed into her dress she didn’t even ask me to stop filming. I was the one who felt immediately uncomfortable and aimed the camera away from her so she could have some changing privacy. Monika, on the other hand would have been totally comfortable being nearly naked for a moment on camera.

And filming Rita got better. She also got more comfortable with the camera. And what really helped was using a lavalier. She kind of forgot that she was on camera and could just be herself. Which is all I wanted.

A casual interview with Rita

Now I’m heavy into editing mode. And it is quite an endeavor.

First I transcribed all the footage onto virtual index cards. Then I printed out all the cards and created a paper edit. That way I could move individual pieces around trying to figure out how it will all work together. It’s like a puzzle.

But then the puzzle complexity jumped when I started actually editing the footage. Suddenly I could see the bits of dialogue that won’t work together in the film, I could see my shaky camera work and hear the sound inconsistencies.

Even the mistakes are ok though. It’s really good to know for next time. So hopefully I won’t make the same mistakes again and I’ll just get better.

Gotta love a woman who wears green polish!

I guess all I need to do now is keep plowing through.

So B. doesn’t want to go dancing anymore. That’s ok. What I realized is that she doesn’t need to. She can still share her stories about her past dancing experiences. And as my lovely boyfriend pointed out – the B met someone through dancing can be a new and interesting perspective. Now she’s got an even bigger story to tell.

That is, if she wants to tell it. There’s also the possibility that she wants to back out and doesn’t know how to say so.

If that’s the case, I will employ my new mantra, “Suck it up and figure it out.” Then I will east some old cheddar cheese.” Then I will come up with a new mantra. Probably it will be. “Do not eat so much cheese.”

Gather Round Kiddies, It’s Airy-Fairy Tangent Time!
Lately I’ve been having dreams about disasters. A few nights ago I dreamt about a tsunami. Last night it was a tornado. But in both unconscious calamities, I devised a way to deal with the impending doom.

If – as dream theorists believe – everything in the dream represents a part of the dreamer, then maybe my disaster dreams represent the problems I’m experiencing in my documentary. And maybe my subconscious is trying to show me that even when problems occur, I can still figure out a way to solve it. That I can find the fix. That nothing’s killed me.

Well at least not yet.

Which is where I am. One of my characters has pulled out.

When I first approached B. (I’m calling her B as she hasn’t signed a release form yet) her she was bubbly enthusiastic about the project and excited to be a part of it. As for filming she was good to go almost anytime.

I knew she’d be an interesting foil to my mom’s character. My mom went dancing, simply because she wanted to dance, hang out with friends, dress up and wear pretty shoes. B. went dancing primarily to meet someone. And now she has and that’s the problem.

No dancing allowed

Except that I have signed up for this. This is how it goes. People ban you from filming. Characters clam up and subjects drop out.

One of my classmates, Lina told us that after three months of making connections, attending meetings and pitching her project to the board on the Humane Society, she got permission to make her documentary. Then the executive director – who supported the doc – got fired. A new director was installed and immediately put a stop to the documentary.

I know I said "Yes" but now I'm saying "No"

Juan (my teach) told us about a filmmaker he knew who became great friends with the son of Pablo Escobar the South American drug lord. The son gave the filmmaker access to private letters, pictures, videos of Escobar to make a documentary. The filmmaker secured funding (a lot of it) shot and edited the film. Unfortunately he forgot to have the waivers signed. When he went to collect signatures, the other family members refused. No release. No doc.

At every stage, from the beginning to the end, something can happen to halt the process, and every time you have to figure out how you can move the documentary forward. You have to pivot, adapt, re-configure, find another angle. And yet people do it. Look at 5 Broken Cameras. Or The World Before Her. Or any documentary that ever got made.

Now I have to figure out how I want to move my doc forward. I don’t know what the answer is yet. I just know that if I stop working on it, it will die. Because know one else is going to do it.

I wanted to develop more tenacity. Looks like I’m getting my wish. I should have wished for an deep dish apple pie.

Getting dolled up

Here’s my one-liner pitch: Three women in their 50s and 60s hit the dance floor every Friday night. As they “shake their groove thang” looking for love, lust or friendship, they prove that the search for connection never get old.

It was Saturday at 7:00pm. I sat in my first subject’s bedroom ready to start filming. My mom walked in.
“Turn that camera off.” she ordered. “I want to change.”
“But what about my “Golden Girls Gone Wild” trailer?” I joked, turning off the camera. Better respect my subject’s boundaries. Especially when that subject is my mother.

With my mom dressed, I could start gathering some G-rated footage. My plan was to film her getting ready for her night – doing her hair, putting on make up, deciding on jewellery – whatever. And while she was preparing, she could talk about her dancing experiences. A simple approach to my first documentary. Or so I thought.

“So when did you start going to the dance?” I asked to get the ball rolling.
“October.”
“Tell me about it,” I encouraged. My mom loves attention and this time she had my full focus and I knew she had a good anecdote to share.
“It was good.”
I pressed on. “What did you like about it?”
“The music.”

My vocal, chatty mother had suddenly clammed up. It was the camera of course. I knew it was my job to get her talking. But I didn’t know how. I couldn’t shake the stories out of her.

Feeling self-conscious

Wait. Could I?

No I couldn’t.

Busted
I had asked permission to film at the dance but hadn’t received an answer. I didn’t let that stop me though. I took out my camera and pressed record. Not that I could get much – the light was too low. My mom started doing a hilarious off-beat Macarena. “Where’s your camera?” one of her friends scolded me. “ You should be taping this!” She was right. I started to record. Suddenly a woman stopped me.

This was at the bar. Gotta let those seniors know who's boss!

“There’s no filming here.” she declared, staring at me. I shrugged and switched off my camera.

An hour later I ventured outside to collect some exterior shots. Within seconds the the same woman approached me again. “You can’t film outside either.” What the hell? Was the Legion some kind of secret bunker? A hot spot for terrorist attacks? C’mon. It’s a bungalowed building with wood-paneled walls and cheap Coors Light.

But rules were rules. I turned off the camera and went back inside.

Not ready, Freddie
The next day I reviewed the rushes. “Your stories that are going to make this interesting.” I told my mom. “All those fun times that you talk about. Like that time when Dennis passed out.”
“You know we haven’t seen him since that time.” My mom mused. “He passed out on the table and I’m the only one who helped him. And then that lady thinks we’re together just because we’re both black.”
She was unself-conscious and chatting without reservation. Perfect. I reached for my camera and pressed record. Nothing happened.

I looked at it and immediately realized why. The memory card was empty. The battery was out of its slot. And the microphone wasn’t plugged in. I quickly put the camera together but by then the moment had evaporated. I missed it.

Disappointed, I realized that I needed to be ready all the time. I just never knew when something would happen. I kept the camera at my side for the rest of the afternoon.

Finally starting to feel more relaxed on camera.

Even when my parents drove me home, I had my camera in my lap, card in, miked up and ready to go. For 45 minutes, nothing much happened. Then an innocent question turned into a conversation about shoes, sex and men at the dance. As my mom’s light gossip deepened into a rant about relationships I started to record. This time I was ready. And this time, she kept talking.

You don’t know what I’m talking about do you? Of course not. Because I’ve not posted in months. (Bad blogger! Bad!)
So I’ll share the story through this awkward montage.

What should I do next?

A sign from the universe!

Currently in pre-production

Isn’t catching up great?

I’m half through the class and getting close to actually filming. Both exciting and scary. Most new things scare me at least a little. Fraidy cat!

I’d hit a wall two weeks ago. Wading through the options and tools available to tell the story was daunting. Juan said we needed to visualize the story we wanted to tell. But how do you visualize a story that hasn’t happened and you can’t control? And how do you write a several page treatment on a story you’re not sure of? It was stupefying.

Then there were other issues. Finding a camera that would film what I want and be within my budget. Asking the subjects I wanted to actually participate. Getting permission to film at the clubs.

It was daunting and I was daunted. But I knew I needed to figure out these issues. The answers would be my road mad to making the movie and I had to find my way through.

I wrote my treatment in halting bursts, stopping sometimes to question my sanity and often to question my legitimacy. Why did I even think I’d be able to make a documentary? I don’t know any thing. Then I’d write a sentence or two of my treatment and think about my characters and remember that I hadn’t even officially asked them yet and no one would agree to be part of it anyway. Who would agree to let me into their homes and lives anyhow. Who the hell was I? I needed a break. And a beer.

Panic is a great motivator.
Time ticked away. I ignored it. Then finally I started to panic. 4 weeks left in the course. Nothing filmed, no one’s signed on. No camera. No treatment. Shit.

I got focused and worked. Imminent deadlines get me moving like nothing else. My treatment’s now ready to show my teacher. I know it’s not perfect. But it’s pretty good considering where I am and what I know.

Then the other night I called one of my potential subjects. She said she was busy and asked me to call her back at 10:00. I did but got an old fashioned busy signal. I wondered if she just didn’t want to take part and didn’t want to say no. And now she was avoiding me like a collection agency. I gave up for the night.

Please say “Yes.” Or “Maybe” Or at least “Hello?”
The next evening I called again. Again no answer. I left a message and expected no response. But she called – late. By the time I got to my phone she had gone and didn’t leave a message. I called her back. The phone rang and rang and just when it was about to switch into voice mail mode, she picked it up.

Beverly listened to my pitch and immediately agreed. Actually she seemed pretty excited about being part of my film. I was excited that she wanted to do it. Happiness really is a two way street. Just like hate sex and twix bars.

Anyhow. Now we’re really all caught up. Thanks for watching. Tune in next time for “Vistek-apalooza!” when I head to the famed store for some hands-on time with their low, low pro video cameras!

I just finished a class at Ryerson called “Intro to Filmmaking”. We paired up with someone and made a short movie. The only rules were : No guns. No violence. And though it wasn’t explicitly said, I suppose No Porn was also a rule.

I paired up with Susan, a 63-year old woman with a big personality, caramel popcorn recipes and zero experience with film. She volunteered to be the producer. Which was perfect because I wanted to direct.

Susan and I batted around ideas. She came up with the main idea entrée. I added a side of humour. And together we put together this short movie, Still In Love.

(if you’d like to view a high-res version of the video, or the above video player is giving you trouble, here it is: Still In Love)

It’s a two minute film that took over 40 hours to make. And in the process I learned a couple important lessons.

Lesson 1: Filmmaking is a very agile process.

Perhaps it’s because I’m still so new at this. Or maybe it’s just because I like to be collaborative, but the end story is never told the way I thought it would be.

Even with storyboards and a shot list, the story evolved. I incorporated input from my producer Susan. Feedback from my teacher Mark. Ideas from the actors. Notes from my boyfriend. My own experimental editing cuts. It all cumulated into something that was better than I could have done on my own. I like that.

Lesson 2: I will hate it before I like it.

There will be a point in the process where I fall into a very deep, self-critical pit. And the only way out is through.

In this case, two weeks before the final project was due my class shared their rough cuts of their projects. As I watched the other films on screen I felt more and more inadequate. My super self-critical voice kicked in and I became unforgiving about the film we had done. I beat myself up, down and sideways for lacking the chops to do better. As I compared my work to my peers, I decided I was lacking in every regard. It didn’t matter that this was an introductory class. In my mind, everyone else’s film was better, smarter, tighter, more polished, more engaging. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my hyper- critical voice became all encompassing for several days. It was a bad place for me to be and I didn’t even realize that I was caught there.

I wanted to quit but I couldn’t. My partner was counting on me and I don’t like to let people down. So I kept editing and listening to feedback and fine tuning. But when I finally finished I felt good about it. We showed the project to the class and it went over great! My classmates laughed hard in the right places and their applause was enthusiastic and genuine. Our film was at least just as good as my classmates films. I realized that the only way to shut that critical voice up is to keep working. Good to know.

Though I’ll probably forget next time.

The best minute of silent film playing on your screen right now! Or it will be when you press play!

A couple of weeks ago, Jill and I put together a one-minute silent movie called Sign of the Times and submitted it into TUFF, Toronto Urban Film Festival. It was the first time we tried doing something like this. And I can assure you that Sign of the Times is a movie marvel that you will want to rave about at Hollywood parties, office fax machines and glory holes throughout the city.

Seriously, check it out!

This is the tale of one woman’s descent into urban parking chaos. (Based on a true story)

TOP 3 THINGS I LEARNED FROM MAKING A ONE MINUTE MOVIE

Be simple.

I thought the idea for the movie was straightforward – a woman tries to park her car in the city. All we’d need to do is shoot some street signs, some in-car driving scenes, a hydrant, a traffic cop, parallel parking. In my head it seemed do-able. I even storyboarded it and everything, so we could keep everything clear.

But within 10 minutes of shooting I realized we had actually signed (Ha! Sign! Fuck you pun) up for a much more complicated. Shooting signs, driving around the block repeatedly, standing in traffic, waiting for cars to clear out, moving around pedestrians, trying to avoid bikers. That combined with top of multiple takes and angles, our overall inexperience but let’s-have-fun-approach – our one minute film took about 3 hours to shoot.

The editing room is not the answer

During the shoot I thought “I’ll just photoshop it and edit it in later.” But what I was actually saying was, “I have a 15 hour gap in my life and want to fill it by working with programs I’m only adequately familiar with.”

Photoshop and editing takes way more time than I thought. It’s like when you’re eight and your pervy grade 3 teacher Mr. Sale*, makes you sit on his lap. You think you’ll be there for a moment and then it ends up feeling like an eternity.

Light. Learn it.

I have no idea what to do with light. Where’s the sun supposed to be so there’s no shadow? Or maybe it’s better sans sun but mucho cloudos? Light’s important and I better take a LIFT course on it.

* Mr. Sale eventually gave up teaching and instead became a priest. Yup. Seriously.

The project was simple. Produce and direct a new set of interstitials. Except this time, we were asked to work with a host. “It’ll be tricky editing,” we were told. But Jill and I were up for the challenge.

What we didn’t realize was that the real challenge would be the host. Though he told us, (unprompted, and repeatedly), about his many (inflated) successes, his warm and generous nature, his selflessness. However he left out the part about his sudden and unpredictable waves of anger, his skewed version of reality and his precarious self-esteem.

Throughout the project, shouting, bullying, manipulation, put downs, power plays and threats to walk away from the project were part of his MO with us. Talking to him made me increasingly anxious. I never knew what would set him off or when. About halfway through pre-production I couldn’t handle it or him anymore. Fortunately Jill stepped up. She took over as the main producer and my tense stomach thanked her for it.

We plowed our way through the shoot and made it through without a single maiming or murder. And sometimes that is the definition of success.

Nile Seguin

After just three months as a comic, Nile made the leap from am to pro. He tells us about his very first his performance on the pro-circuit – a performance that turned into a “bit of a bloodbath”.

Also lawn jockeys get the beat-down! Deservedly so.