A Missive From Sisyphus

I guess it's time for an update on "Europe After Dark."

This is the 10-episode travel-lifestyle TV series about European nightlife that we shot in Europe last summer. Sounds great, right? Shot last summer. Done and done. We contacted the Fox Station Group and showed them a few sample episodes, and they were quite enthusiastic about it. Chris King, who heads ad sales for the company, told me they would be willing to move other programming around to accommodate our show.

The problem is this: we have to sell the advertising ourselves. To do this, we signed with a media buying firm with a lot of experience selling advertising time in the paid programming arena. They tried, but to date have gotten no firm commitments to sponsor the show.

The reason? "Europe After Dark" is an untried entity. It has no track record, no ratings - nothing that could be used to sell its worth as a vehicle for delivering a particular advertiser's message. A solution would be to do a test run in a single market, and that's what my associate Van Sher is doing now.

We'll keep on trudging....

Vince & James

Well, I have to confess that last night was a bit of a let-down.

It had nothing to do with the crowd's reaction to Tolltaker. It was more because the festival people were showing the wrong version of it. Instead of the Blu Ray with the gorgeous sound track and sound mix that I had paid good money for, that I had rushed to get to them a few days earlier, I was sitting in my seat, watching unfold before me the rough cut I had sent in months earlier, with the understanding that I would replace it with the final cut before the screening. Which I did.

It was really too painful to watch. I got up and hurried out of the theater, found the house manager and had some words that I guess could be characterized as tense. He offered to stop the movie, put in the right version, and fast-forward to the spot where the movie was at now.

I declined. That didn't make any sense to me. The movie was half over already. Whatever meager spell it might have cast over the audience would be completely broken if the film were interrupted like that. So I wound up sitting out in the lobby for the rest of the Tolltaker and the movie after that. Kind of a pouty, spoiled-brat thing to do I know, but I was pissed.

So, all in all, not a pleasant evening. But the day did have an upside. On the way to the festival (sitting in traffic that was moving slower than your average lava flow, it should be mentioned), I received a phone call from my friend Vince, who had just watched the Tolltaker.

I've known Vince Jolivette since about 1998, when we were both working as bartenders at the Bel Air Bay Club, which tells everyone that it's in Malibu, but is actually in Pacific Palisades, California. It was a private club for the rich, sitting on one of the few privately owned strips of beach in the state.

All in all, it was a pretty cushy gig, especially if you were working the day shift. Mostly I would just sit and read a book, or gaze out the open window at the Santa Monica Bay.

Vince was that Hollywood stereotype, an aspiring actor who made his living in the food industry. He was from Ohio, and seemed to have brought his entire college graduating class out to California with him. He was always hanging out with friends whom he knew either from college, or from his hometown just outside Cincinnati.

Vince was studying his craft, as every serious artist must do, and was doing so at a studio called Playhouse West in North Hollywood. The day he started, he ran into someone new, who (I believe) was also just starting at the studio. His name was James Franco. The two became fast friends.

Over the years, Vince and James did acting exercises together, worked on scenes, acted in plays. This continued as James began to land ever bigger and more impressive acting gigs. Freaks and Geeks, James Dean (for which he won a Golden Globe), Spiderman.

Vince and James formed a production company together, Rabbit Bandini Productions, which Vince would largely run as James flew off to wherever he was filming a movie. They began producing movies, first shorts, then a few feature-length films, all of which Vince produced.

A couple years after I moved back to the East Coast, James began taking classes at, it seemed, every university in the known world. There was NYU, Columbia and - I believe - Brooklyn College. James had gotten an apartment in Manhattan, which he shared with Vince and a pretty, charming female assistant (whose name, unfortunately, escapes me right now).

Vince, my best friend Jesper (who also knew Vince from the Bel Air Bay Club) and I would hang out in the city, and on, occasion, we would return to the apartment in Chelsea that Vince shared with James. It was a pretty cool apartment. James had eschewed a high-rise penthouse in favor of three floors in a turn-of-the-century (and I mean 20th Century) walk-up.

A really cool feature of the apartment was a roof-top deck, which provided stunning views of both midtown and downtown. I remember on at least one occasion relaxing up there with Vince and the nameless-but-pretty assistant, having beers and basically just hanging out.

James wasn't there, but my friendship with Vince has, from time to time, brought me in contact with him. The first time was back in Los Angeles, where Vince and James did a little scene in a friend's garage and I filmed it. Even then, James was the budding director. He had very specific shots in mind. This wasn't going to be a case of plop the camera on a tripod and get what you can.

Then there was a time I went to his apartment in North Hollywood. This was in an impressive office-retail-apartment complex that really stuck out from all the east Valley blandness that surrounded it. I don't remember much furniture, but it seemed that every horizontal surface was covered with empty, plastic bottles of spring water. Apparently he drank it when he painted (pictures, that is), which I hadn't known previously that he did.

On the East Coast, I met him one time at the premiere of his film Good Time Max at the TriBeCa Film Festival. He had to give a little speech at the beginning, introducing the movie, which he shuffled through rather bashfully. Afterwards, Jesper and I were part of an entourage that took over a restaurant uptown for the rest of the night.

Then there was the time, about a year or so ago, that James was directing a short film (a student film, I believe, for NYU) in Virginia, and asked Jesper and me to do him a favor. The production was renting about ten rooms at a hotel in the town of Suffolk for about a week and wanted to work a barter deal with the hotel whereby the production would get a steep discount if they produced a short, promotional video for the hotel. Knowing that Jesper and I do those kind of videos for a living, he called us.

After the shoot, we went back down about a week later to shoot some behind-the-scenes footage. The movie was a short called Herbert White and the lead role was played by the actor Michael Shannon, who was nominated for an Oscar for his performance in Revolutionary Road. An Oscar-nominated star. For a student film. You can do it if you're James Franco.

They had assembled a casual, relaxed crew that gelled well together. About half were classmates of James' from NYU, and the other half were local kids from the community college. By the time Jesper and I got there, they had gotten into the kind of groove any film crew (hopefully) gets into, where everyone is one big family, and it seems like they've known each other forever.

There were a couple memorable moments from the two days we spent with the production. One location was a derelict old shack of a house that some members of the crew believed was haunted. After the production wrapped at that location, James and Michael posed for a photograph, sitting on the porch in a pair of battered lawn chairs. Just before (or after - I'm not sure) the picture was taken, there was a loud crack of splintering wood and the porch beneath James gave way, tumbling him off the chair and onto his back in the dirt. He landed laughing.

Another moment was when the cast and crew were assembled at a farmhouse that was kind of serving as headquarters for the production. It was the last day of shooting, and everyone was having lunch. The atmosphere was relaxed, even festive. One of the Virginia kids was having a birthday, and James presented him with a cake and did a little mock interview, which I taped.

A little later, I was chatting with James, and he asked about the work we did at Reel Stuff. I told him some of our projects, including Living Tomorrow, a 15-episode original series for The Discovery Channel that we had shot in Europe a few years before. Vince was the host of the series.

"Wait! That was you?," James asked. "I wondered how Vince got that gig."

Anyway, enough of the reminiscing. Once again, Vince called me yesterday after he had watched the Tolltaker. He was very enthusiastic about it, and offered one or two suggestions for "taking it to the next level," so to speak. The main suggestion was to cut a version of it that was substantially shorter. This would make it more palatable to agents, who are often the key to getting movies made in Hollywood (and my overall goal is to get a Tolltaker feature made).

"No agent's going to want to sit through a 23-minute short film," Vince said. The ideal length is 12 to 15 minutes. So I'll cut a shorter version, which Vince said he would take, along with the feature-length Tolltaker screenplay, to James' agents at CAA. After that, who knows?

So, that's one iron in the fire. There are certainly no guarantees, so the wisest thing would be to press ahead with submitting Tolltaker to film festivals, racking up as many awards, views and "Likes" on Facebook as we can. So, to Tolltaker people everywhere, I repeat the prime directive:

Spread the Virus.

The Final Hours...

Well, The Tolltaker's first screening before an audience is tonight. Just a few hours away.

The only way I've ever experienced this movie was on my computer screen, with the audio being piped in through headphones. Tonight I'm going to see it projected on a screen (how big, I don't know) before an actual audience of actual people. I hope everyone's work shows well. I think people are going to like it, if they can forgive it for the flaws sprinkled here and there.

It's funny the set of expectations a person has when considering others' reaction to his work. You want everyone to love it. Anything short of that, of absolute perfection, means the whole thing's a failure.

And it's not just that you want them to love it. It has to be one of the best things they've ever seen, a real watershed moment for them. As the Creator of this Work, you'll be satisfied with nothing less than the audience dividing their lives into two parts: before and after they've seen your movie.

And if that doesn't happen? If all they do is clap politely? Or if it turns out that they like the movie, but like someone else's better? That's the reaction you have to steel yourself for.

I guess this feeling is something akin to what a gambler feels after he's tossed the dice or pulled the handle on the slot machine. A lot is riding on the outcome, and along with anxiety there's a certain rush. Every moment from now until the outcome is decided is significant.

In the end, I guess I'll have to content myself with the following sage advice: it's not about the destination, but the journey to get there. Whatever happens tonight, the experience of making this film has shaped, in some way, who I am. No audience reaction is going to change that.

Radio Ga Ga

Life's too short not to let yourself bask in the glow of kind words, if only for a moment. You never know when you'll have the chance again.

Such was the case today during my radio interview with Bert Baron about The Tolltaker. The occasion was the movie's screening on Friday, September 23 at the New Jersey Film Festival. A filmmaker from the festival is interviewed once a week on Bert's show - today it was my turn.

I had sent a link to watch the movie a few days ahead of time, in case Bert wanted to take a look at Tolltaker in advance of the interview, which was scheduled for 2:30 this afternoon. I had been instructed to call in to the station a few minutes beforehand.

Bert actually called me unexpectedly this morning, right after he had watched the movie. It was around 10 or 11 a.m. and my phone rang. The number didn't look familiar, but I answered it, thinking it might be work-related. It was Bert.

As I look back on it, I'm not entirely sure what the call was for exactly, other than to offer his congratulations about the movie. He was very pleasant and cordial. We chatted for a few minutes, and then I said I would call into the show a few minutes before 2:30, as directed.

When I called into the show this afternoon, I was stunned by the words of praise he bestowed upon The Tolltaker. A few quotes, which I pulled later from the podcast:

"I thought it was unbelievable."

"I was just wowed by it. It was a real treat to see."

Bert said it "used music expertly." It's "just a great movie."

"I couldn't take my eyes off of it, it was that captivating to me. "

And there was this:

"Everybody who has a chance to come down and watch this movie is going to be absolutely blown away by it."

Some of the best praise was reserved for Cullen Clancey, who plays Bobby in the movie. Another quote:

"I'm gonna see this kid on a red carpet someday, giving an acceptance speech. I have no doubt."

Of course, an obsessive-compulsive, over-analytical sort might try seeing between the lines here. It could be that he was just offering encouragement to an aspiring feature filmmaker, and talk radio hosts tend to speak in superlatives. Was this just a pat on the head?

Who knows...I guess I'll just have to wait until The Tolltaker screens tomorrow night, and see what the audience's reaction to it will be. Then, instead of one person's opinion, I'll have a whole theater-full of them.

To hear the podcast of the interview with Bert, go here: http://www.wctcam.com/BertPodcasts.aspx.

Gazing Into the Depths

Now that it’s finished, I look at “The Tolltaker” and ask myself: is it any good?

I think I’m the last person to be able to judge that. I’m much too close to it. I know every frame, and every flaw announces itself to me with the subtlety and finesse of a fog horn.

I hope it’s good. If “goodness” equals dedication and hard work – not to mention sacrifice, particularly of money – then “The Tolltaker” is superb. But of course, life isn’t fair that way. Nor should it be. I’m sure people put a lot of time and effort – not to mention expense – into Battlefield Earth. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.

If goodness equals sincerity, then I believe the Tolltaker wins points. This is a story I honestly wanted to see told. Why? As I’ve said before, the setting and circumstances remind me of growing up myself in the Philadelphia area in the 1970’s. For that reason I tried to pack it with as many “cultural markers” as I could.

But beyond that, I really felt for the character of Bobby. I sympathize with a confused and anxious boy, an outsider, wounded by life at an early age, and endowed with sad wisdom as a result.

There are so many books I read when I was a kid that were about some youthful hero stumbling into a fantastic – or terrifying – alternate world. I guess Alice in Wonderland was the first of this type written. The first of the modern era, anyway. Heroes have been venturing into the netherworld for various reasons since the very dawn of story telling.

Am I over-thinking it? Am I making connections and deriving levels of meaning that others just don’t see? I know how easy it is for an artist to go into obsessive detail about his own work, in the mistaken belief that others share his enthusiasm with this new creation. I’ve got to stay on the look-out for that tendency in myself.

I think I must have watched Tolltaker at least 500 times so far. Even so, I’m still making discoveries in it. Levels of meaning that could be inferred. I ask myself: did I put that there? Did I know I put that there? Did I know the reason?

Not consciously. But then story-telling isn’t entirely a conscious process. The wellsprings of inspiration are in the unconscious, which is why sometimes a story will pop up fully-formed into a writer’s mind. According to Jim Sneddon, that’s how the Tolltaker novel came to him. The unconscious has already been working on it, putting it together below the notice of the conscious mind, and by the time the writer goes looking for the story – sitting down to actually write it – the unconscious mind hands it over, practically ready for the type-setter.

And what are these “wellsprings of inspiration,” really? It feels like it’s almost coming from somewhere outside my mind. That, I understand, is a common phenomenon, and psychologists have talked and written about it often. You should read William James’ book Varieties of Religious Experience for an eye-opening description of inspiration – both divine and otherwise – from a psychological perspective. It’s one of the definitive works on the subject.

Carl Jung has proven tremendously helpful in shedding some light on this question. I remember reading his books on archetypes and the collective unconscious (which, of course, is the title of his most famous book), and gobbling each one up greedily. The insights were like little bits of light, little bits of fresh air, and I eagerly followed from one to the next. The result, I believe, has given me an understanding of stories that’s both universal and personal.

Of course, to palliate anyone who’s rolling his/her eyes right now, I have to say that I absolutely don’t consider myself a master story-teller. The Tolltaker doesn’t provide evidence of that, and, besides, it was based on a book written by someone else.

But I do believe I have an understanding of story-telling and story arcs that’s both intuitive and intellectual. Or at least I’m starting to. I can watch a movie, say it’s terrific, and understand – both on an intellectual and intuitive level – why I feel that way.

That’s a long way from saying that I’m capable myself of producing something that meets those lofty standards. But I’m learning, and each time out, I hope to do better. In my perfect future, I’ll look back at this, my first film (but hopefully not my last) and shake my head in embarrassment at how rough it is.

That’s something to shoot for, right?

Thou Shalt Spread the Virus

So, as of this morning "The Tolltaker" has been viewed 50 times on Vimeo.

Thursday, September 15 was the halcyon day, with a breath-taking total of 19 views. (And, at this point, that is breath-taking.) Alas, the number goes down on succeeding days: ten each on Friday and Monday, and four the remaining two days.

So, once again, here's the pathogen all the busy little vectors out there need to spread the disease:

http://www.vimeo.com/29022379

Of course, I'm encouraging people to email the link as far and wide as possible. My strategy has essentially two components: place well at film festivals and chalk up views and "Likes" of the film online. The ultimate goal: get a feature-length version of the Tolltaker made. The next intermediate step to get to that goal is to find a partner who has the resources to produce "The Tolltaker" and distribute it to both national and international markets.

When you're asking people to part with money, they're going to want to see numbers. The online views and Facebook "Likes" are going to provide those numbers. The trick is to get those numbers as high as possible. That's where promotion comes in.

These days, the most successful promotional campaigns are viral campaigns. The idea is not just to get the message out to people through some mass medium like television or magazines, but to get each person who sees that message to pass it on to his/her family, friends and associates. That way , the message spreads. Like a virus.

What are the chances of success with this route? Well, she's not trying to make a movie, but web star Marina Orlova, I'm told, makes well into five figures each month from her YouTube channel "Hot for Words." But the channel has racked up somewhere in the neighborhood of 420 million views so far. My paltry 50 hardly compares with that.

One thing I need to make clear is that I'm not asking anybody for money (and neither does Marina, by the way - her channel is ad supported). I have absolutely no intention to receive financial compensation of any kind from The Tolltaker. At least as a short film. As a feature film, that's a different story. But that story hasn't been written yet.

No, what I want is people to simply take 23 minutes out of their lives to watch the movie on Vimeo and "Like" it on Facebook. I understand that's a lot to ask these days. The vast majority of viral videos are no more than a minute long, and are passed between people as a goof. For them to commit to watching something that's the length of the average sitcom, they're going to have to be pretty engaged in whatever that video's about.

So, we have the same task that faces the marketing team on any feature film: hook people's interest, so they'll make the effort to go to a movie theater and sit through your movie, and pay for the privilege. So what do you do? Make the content - the story - leap out at the viewer in a way that's simply irresistible. Plant a question in the person's mind that just has to be answered. A compelling image can do the trick, given context by a clever tagline, the best being one that can be taken several different ways.

I like to think I've done that with my efforts so far to promote The Tolltaker. At the very least, those were the objectives I had mind when I sat down to make the Tolltaker postcard. Does it work? The only way to tell now is if the numbers on Vimeo and Facebook go up.

And, as a call-t0-action (which is that thing, that specific physical action, that most ads exhort you to do), I don't think it's much to ask of a person to click on a link to watch a short film, one that (hopefully) intrigues them anyway.

There are filmmakers out there who are trying to finance their films through subscriptions they solicit online. The hook is to tell the people who are giving them money that they're "producers" of the film. To date, I don't know of any mainstream (or even sub-mainstream) film that's been made this way. My instinct is to condemn this as unseamly, but I'm not ruling anything out yet. Who knows? You might see me out there on a street corner, hat in hand, with a sign that says "The Tolltaker wants your money."

Nothing's off the table.

I See, Said the Blind Man...

I just realized that this blog has no art on it. It's visually boring, monotonous. So I will rectify that by posting the occasional image as well, starting with this one, which is a little 4x6 postcard I intend to start leaving at Film Festivals (and other locations), beginning this weekend at the NJ Film Festival - that is if get the postcards delivered to me in time.

The postcard, you can see, has been cobbled together from stills from the movie, as well as the logo we've had almost since the beginning of production. I wanted to blend the layers seamlessly into each other but, my Photoshop skills being rudimentary (to put it charitably), I couldn't figure it out. So I wound up using the vines as a means to cover up the seams between the layers. Kind of works, though, doesn't it? Necessity indeed does breed invention.