Filmmaking – Upside Down & Inside Out

Archive for the ‘Reviews’ Category

Guess Who’s in Charge Now?

Wednesday, March 17th, 2010

I’d long since grown used to handing my films over to some faceless distributor who showered me with golden promises and called it rain.  Sometimes the magic worked, sometimes I was ripped off like a greenhorn.

Most times my film fell into a hole, where apparently the rabbit ate all the good, green stuff.

That steam model – distributor at the top, filmmaker at the bottom – has given rise to more nasty metaphors than any column could support.  For a long while, we had no choice.  But now social media has come marching in, toppling everything we thought we knew about distribution.  The high and mighty voice of The One has been replaced with the mumble of millions.

I have seen the future and it is good.

Old style distribution and its Rolodex have gone the way of the three-martini- lunch.  (Shame, that….) We don’t start our day with corn flakes and a copy of Variety anymore.

Our films are more likely seen on YouTube and Vimeo than screened at the Rialto or the Cineplex.  Our new distribution platform starts (or ends) with Xbox and PlayStation. We hold the new silver screen in the palm of our hands, our marketing focuses on Facebook and LinkedIn, our funding begins on IndieGoGo and KickStarter.  Tweet on.

With no one home behind our distributor’s World Wide door, we’re all left on our own.  Not only are we expected to grease the wheels, now we have to turn the crank, too.

We’re all strangers in this brave new land of DIY distribution.  Suddenly we have no one to blame for slow sales except ourselves.  I suppose it’s more democratic without elites behind the desk, but here we stand, naked, negotiating with ourselves.  There are no more scapegoats for all our woes.

Like it or not, ready or not, the future has arrived anyway.  Galumph, galumph, galumph…. Move along or it will stomp you down.

It’s time to come to grips with the new bugaboos (and heady power) of promotion and marketing and distribution.   Don’t know how to do that job?  That’s funny, because it’s NUMBER ONE on the list.

There are ten steps in all.  And we all have to take them, one by one, if we hope to have our movies seen.

  1. Surround yourself with pros who know how to handle tasks better than you.  If you’re the smartest person in the room, find another room.
  2. Know the audience for your show.  Work with specifics, not generalities.  See them, feel them, touch them.
  3. Plan your marketing and promotion.  Budget for every step of it.  Then budget more money.  Marketing is not a task for the feint-of-heart or the thin-of-wallet.
  4. Build a website that’s smarter than sunshine  and as seductive as a spider’s web.  Now stat the the task of luring your audience home.
  5. Start networking now.  Plan to tweet, blog, e-blast, post, teach, lecture or screen every day from now until you start your next film.  Film festival prizes are great, but courting the audience is even better.  Face time is much better than Facebook.
  6. If you’re not selling, you’re not doing your job.  Your job?  It’s to sell your script, sell your production, sell your ideas to your actors, sell your film to your audience.  Sell.
  7. Plan every step of your marketing and distribution before you start to make your movie.
  8. Think ROI, but understand that “profit” is measured in more ways than money.  Know exactly why your investors invested.  And what they want in return.
  9. Give away far more than you ever hope to sell.  If you don’t leave a trail of breadcrumbs, no one will follow you to your movie.
  10. Write a business plan that’s honest, complex and profound, insightful, exciting and seductive.  Make it as tenacious as a fishhook.  Let it seduce your investors, entice your audience and guide you into production.

Good luck.  We may all be alone now, but we’re all in this together.

The Future is Coming, the Future is Coming….

Thursday, December 24th, 2009

No doubt the year ahead will be no less interesting than the year behind. For good or bad, the universe sorta works that way. I suppose it’s also true that the future wants to (as it always has) come rushing toward us like a puppy, head over heels, panting for love, yapping for attention and peeing all over itself (and us) from the pure joy of its arrival.

Puppy love or not, this year I find myself twisted inside-out, turned into a scowling cynic. Well, as twisted as ever, but more cynic than usual.

Now that Big Business owns the future, I fear that innovation is no longer really real. Instead of leaping into our arms, the future gets doled out to us when some Suit decides the time is right (or the money rich enough) for an unseemly profit. And what we’re being sold (most times) are bargain-priced replicas of the promised goods. Somewhere, I’m sure, someone somewhere really owns the real thing, but most of us get low-cost floor-sweepings from cheapo-land. Not only has Big Business sold our jobs, they’ve outsourced the future to the lowest bidder.

Why so bitter? In this week alone, a computer monitor died (moments after its warranty expired), a TV went blank (because Dell opted to use the cheapest possible chips) and my recently-replaced snowblower cable shredded and snapped (I now fear we import our wires, too). I’m frozen in place wondering what wonder of modern technology will implode next, its obsolescence carefully planned even as it was being born.
With all that in mind, these are my visions of the near future. Now do your part. Hurry, hurry, buy lots of stuff now so that everything can break in time for whatever waits in the wings.

  1. HDTV pales next to Ultra-DTVâ„¢, which will be announced late in 2010, just in time for the next round of Holiday shopping.
  2. More Hollywood films will shoot and deliver in 3D while lame adventures in 4D will go back to whatever dimension brought them. Will anyone care about the story anymore? Or just the space it lives in?
  3. An Astonishing New Camera will manage to make Ultra-Defâ„¢ Video look better, brighter, bolder than film. Film gasps on, even as its image slowly fades away. Film is so 20th century anyway.
  4. After six months & seven updates, the original version of The Astonishing New Camera will sell at Wal-Mart for $100 ($99 at Costco).
  5. The netbook will grow smaller and smaller until it finally morphs into a smart-phone that slides into a shirt pocket.
  6. A shirt-pocket-sized, solid-state drive holds two hours of Ultra-Defâ„¢ video. It sells for $100. Cheapo-land is named the exclusive manufacturer of shirt-pockets; price rises precipitously.
  7. The Next Big Thing is the One-Com©. This amazing wonder shoots 3D stills & Ultra-Defâ„¢ video. It delivers concert-hall-quality sound, includes script writing software, an edit bay and a telescope. Even has a decent phone.
  8. Someone finally figures out what kind of movie actually looks great on a wristwatch. Big Business sells lots of new Wristies© as Hollywood churns out endless new shows and millions watch. Meanwhile filmmakers keep waiting, keep waiting, keep waiting for their residuals.
  9. Film unions begin to disintegrate as more indie productions shoot with more indie crews. Farewell pensions, bye-bye health-care, so long retirement. And everyone wonders when their deferred wages will arrive.
  10. Cloud computing wins. No one owns anything. Hardware downloads everything from the ether. Big Business sells access to lots of clouds. Everyone else gets water vapor.
  11. With ever-lower prices on hardware, Everyman is finally able to electronically encode endless images of everything. The results flood We-Tube©. We watch, eyes crossed. A rare few still make movies, even fewer remember what a real movie really is.
  12. And as the year staggers toward the wings, I’ll have become a year older, though that’ll have little impact on me, less on the world.

(The Other) Roger & Me

Saturday, November 22nd, 2008

I just read an interview with Roger Ebert. Surgeries have finally removed his cancer, but left him unable to eat or drink. Or talk. He called it a gift from the gods – all his desires had been replaced by all his memories of satiety.

http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2010/01/nil_by_mouth.html

I froze, unsatisfied with my memories, undone by my own terrors, running mental slide shows of the Roger I once knew, a man incapable of containing his passions, a whirlwind, a mind unfamiliar with the concept of abstinence.

Roger and I went to the same college. He was already one of the elite, already published and traveled and destined for things far outside a Midwestern campus. When our paths crossed, he was editor of the school newspaper and I was his drama critic. (He was very good at this job, I was infinitely less so, but that’s beside the point.)

What I knew then, what I remember now is his passion. A passion for words mostly, but for damn near everything else, too.

My routine was to see a play on campus, then rush to the newsroom to churn out a review before the paper went to press. That gave me about an hour at most, to deliver my art on demand. My date de noir would purse her mouth and prink, tapping her little foot to mark her impatience. “Maybe I should just go home, we can meet next week. Or something….”

I was never good about choosing between art and love. “No, no, I’m almost done here, just a few (hundred) words to go. Wait, wait….”

Invariably, one rewrite from perfection, Roger would burst into the room, larger than the room, louder than the room. And leap onto the communal “desk” that spanned from door to wall, announcing that everyone’s copy was late, that the typesetters were tired of waiting and, louder still, that Thomas Wolfe was the finest writer who ever lived, Shakespeare and Proust be damned.

“A poem, a leaf, a door,” he’d begin, words flowing from memory, filling the space like maple syrup of the mind. It mesmerized the lot of us on Monday. By Wednesday we still paid some attention. At Friday’s end, our ears were closed and we typed on.

If Roger saw, he’d jar us back. Feet solidly planted in Wolfe, he’d leap from the gospels of Goddard and Fellini to Bergman and Kubrick, lunge from film to Pound and Elliot, Mann and Joyce, from the best pizza in town to the little dive that had the richest barbeque….

What he loved the most was goading anyone into argument. He would lay trails of verbal crumbs to trap us. “No, I don’t’ think so…” someone would say.

Roger would light up, puff up, pounce up, joyous to find a worthy sparring mate. His words were weapons to shred any opponent who failed to meet him on even ground. Bruce Lee in battle with the knowledge ninjas.

I’m sure Roger still fights the same battles, though the vocals are gone. Ever the loud sort, demanding to own the room, he now settles for owning the page. I’m glad he writes that he’s content with it.

Of course Roger was (and is) incredibly talented. Smart, too, with a prodigious memory (and enough bluster to cover any lapses). Essential skills for success, but that’s not why I remember him. Or why I treasure his books, his reviews, his thoughts.

It’s the passion that endures. Passion.

Passion makes movies worth seeing. Passion turns painting into art, gold into treasure, writing into literature. Passion makes any little thing worth everything. Passion.

When I look at movies now, my memories of Roger have become my rule of thumb. I ask myself, is this film pounce-worthy? Would it coax a tirade from anyone, make poets leap to desktops, raise voices in delight, in dissension, in discussion. Does the artist’s passion make me want to scream, strut, sing, slide their words around my mouth like honey….

If not, I don’t have room for it. I’m far too busy thinking of the way things should be. Thanks for that, too, Roger.

Norman C. Berns

Norman C. BernsFilmmaker, teacher, writer and consultant, my three-part documentary series, The Writing Code, recently aired on PBS.

Of nine films produced for The Metropolitan Opera, Young Wonders was picked up as a PBS special and La Boehme garnered an Emmy.

A certified Movie Magic instructor, I was an early beta tester for Screenplay Systems budgeting and scheduling programs. I was Creative Director of the Set Management team that created ProductionPro Budget.

Maybe it’s nostalgia, but I swear that was one of the best budgeting programs ever made. Hey, gimme a break; no one has an ugly kid…!

A regular columnist for the seminal online journal, WebZine Weekly, I’ve written for The Directors Guild, Tripod, Inc. and BTL News. My blogs and reviews can currently be found on reelgrok, the NY Times owned Baseline and Pavaline. My overview of film budgeting will appear in the latest edition of Carole Dean’s “The Art of Film Funding.”

When I’m not in production, I can usually be found teaching film fundamentals, from script breakdown to successful pitching.  I’m a member of The Internet Press Guild, the Directors Guild, Screen Actors Guild and Actors Equity.