One Wednesday in the middle of December, 2003, I was slaving away at my temp graphic design job for a faceless Canadian financial institution. It was up to me to whip up some PowerPoint templates, assemble 1,000 “factoids” into a self-running presentation and somehow figure out where all the logos were kept on the network. The phone rings, and I answer it, because that’s my job too.

“Hi Craig. It’s Dana Brunetti, co-founder of Triggerstreet-dot-com. I have Kevin Spacey on the line from Berlin.”

I blink.

“Hey Craig,” Kevin Spacey says to me, “Congratulations on making the Top Ten. We’re going to screen them at Sundance this year. Hope you can make it down for the finals.”

That’s when I knew I had to get out of the PowerPoint business for good.

This story actually starts a few months earlier. My filmmaking partner Chris McCawley heard about an unsual film festival and decided to enter us. The grand prize, $10,000 if you can make a film in 24 hours in New York City (www.nycmidnight.com). But first we had to make a movie in two weeks with a theme and genre that they select for us: “Animal Rights” and “Musical.” To some groups either one might be the kiss of death, but to us, it was a sign from above. Not only is Chris a talented singer and songwriter, our other partner, Joel S. Silver, is one of the most skillful musicians I have ever heard, especially in a pinch, and most definitely with musicals. We were confident.

Eleven days and $1,000 later we mailed off Dog Given Rights to New York City. It had taken us two days for the script, another three for the songs, four days for the shoot (including a big song-and-dance number in the park with 12 dancers and a mini-jib) and a final two for the editing and score. And yes, we did call in a lot of favours for this one. A week later, we found out we had won our heat, and were invited down to NYC to make a movie in 24 hours. To read more about how that turned out, check out the January 2004 issue of Wired Magazine. Really.

We returned from New York defeated yet encouraged. The reaction from our first-round movie had been overwhelming. So I uploaded it to Kevin Spacey’s online filmmaking community website www.triggerstreet.com and sort of forgot about it. Soon they announced the latest festival, and Dog Given Rights was chosen as one of the top 50 to compete, then as one of the Top Ten, then I got the infamous phone call and invitation to Sundance. Simply amazing. (Damn, I love the Internet.)

Just to set the record straight, this isn’t the big fluke it may sound like. Chris and I have been making movies since high school (more than ten years ago) and Joel is an accomplished musician and composer. My personal filmography lists more than 60 shorts, mostly in the comedic genre. I’ve worked with a lot of people, and we’ve all been working very, very hard towards this and now slowly things are rolling back our way. But the great thing about this experience is that it has included a few first time filmmakers, and to receive such a pat on the back so early in the game is a credit to their natural ability.

Anyway, Chris, Joel and I end up at a rented condo in Park City right in the middle of the Sundance Festival. TriggerStreet is a very supportive community, and it was thanks to them and their friends that we had such a great place to stay. Two more Top Ten teams were also there, one from Toronto, and another from Scotland. Everyone was in a good mood, because no one ever expected their little films would take them this far.

Since we have two days to mentally prepare for our screening, we decide to help the Scottish guys drink some beer, whoop it up and generally try to tear Park City a new one. Before I flew out, I spent three longs days burning 40 DVDs to hand out to every studio exec and fancy Beverly Hills agent I saw. But that’s a funny thing about Sundance. While it is true everyone is there to see films and schmooze in some way, the bigwigs don’t really take the bus or line up for tickets with the rest of us. Don’t get me wrong. I met some great people from all over the entertainment industry map, but my sparkly-eyed fantasies didn’t match up with the reality.

So I started to hand out the DVDs to fellow filmmakers, struggling screenwriters or just to people I liked. Since we weren’t there to find a distributor for our five million dollar feature, we could relax a bit and enjoy the ride. I like to think of it as a warm-up; just getting our feet wet for when we do come back with that first feature.

Then it was Thursday, our day. We were a bit worried about getting tickets, even for our own screening, as they are a bit scarce at Sundance, but another TriggerStreet brother bought a whole bunch for the folks who didn’t have any. As I said, very supportive. We all filed into the multiplex to see our work jump off the computer screen and onto the big screen. I was impressed again at the fact that everything just looks better projected BIG. In this age of DVD home studios and streaming QuickTime files, to be reminded that the filmmaking bug first bit me in the dark, sitting in front of a huge silver screen is simply a wonderful thing.

The screenings soon ended and I was a bit nervous. The Top Ten were such a diverse selection of films, and all had very strong merits. It was anyone’s game at this point, but we had all won, really, by just having a film at Sundance. Chris and I and the other nine filmmakers went down to the front for a Q&A that ranged from inspiration to explanations.

Then the moment of truth arrived. Indie favourite and Kevin Spacey stand-in Peter Sarsgaard materialized to announce and present the awards for the top three films. Two TriggerStreet staffers appeared with brand new Panasonic AG-DVX100AP 24p DV cameras to hand out to the winners, as well as Treo 600 Smartphones and a fancy plaque signed by all the celebrity judges (Finding Nemo director Andrew Stanton, legendary music producer Phil Ramone, actress Kate Bosworth, hip-hop pioneer Q-Tip and “Bad Santa” himself, Billy Bob Thornton).

And then the hammer came down. Dog Given Rights was named first and we all went into a bit of shock. Joel came racing down the aisle and flashes went off everywhere. They announced the other two deserving winners, we shook some hands, gave our “how does it feel” remarks and didn’t quite know what to do with ourselves. But we won! High fives and piggybacks for everyone! We did it!

The after-party and the rest of Sundance were a bit of a blur for us. We partied it up well into the morning with the Scottish guys and met some more great people. But that big three picture deal with Dreamworks? Didn’t happen. A team of high-rolling Hollywood agents? Nope. Meeting just one B-list celebrity? Not even. Instead we got a great insider’s look into the world’s biggest and best indie film festival and now we can put Sundance on our CVs.

It has definitely opened a few doors and people take us more seriously now, but the awards and accolades aren’t going to write my next script or shoot my next movie. I view filmmaking like an athlete views their sport. You can practice, learn the stats, and maybe pick up an MVP or two, but there’s nothing like being in the thick of things, surrounded by your team, and trying to make that last shot before the buzzer. That’s what it’s all about. If three guys from Toronto can make a movie in eleven days and have it screened at Sundance, anything can happen. So go make your movie.

Craig Macnaughton
craig@mise-en-chien.com

Toronto, ON
mise-en-chien productions
www.mise-en-chien.com
www.alldaybreakfast.ca

Daniel Wasserman: Your education and background includes political science and history. Has this affected your viewpoint on filmmaking?

Greg Pak: On some level, politics and history are all about the struggle to figure out why we do the things we do. As a filmmaker, I'm trying to figure out the same things, just on a much more personal scale. Hopefully my background gives me a wider perspective on the external forces which create the worlds in which my characters operate, while my inclinations and training as a storyteller help me focus on the essential, personal, emotional heart of the films.

DW: You gained early recognition with several student awards, including a Gold Student Academy Award in the Documentary Category. Did this early achievement help propel your career as a filmmaker?

GP: Going to festivals and winning awards for my short films was hugely helpful to me. It's not as if overnight everything changed—it still took me three years after winning a Student Academy Award to get my first feature made. But I got an agent, I got to know some producers, I learned a huge amount from hobnobbing with other filmmakers, and I developed relationships with a ton of festivals and festival programmers. The festival contacts were more critical than I knew—the success of Robot Stories has come through many of the festivals which had played my shorts over the years. I was building relationships without realizing it.

DW: Did all this festival recognition help you in any way with funding your bigger projects?

GP: The success of my previous shorts was critical in lining up the private investors who made Robot Stories possible. And certainly the success of Robot Stories is helping me and my producers line up partners for my next feature film, Rio Chino. We don't yet have all the money, but we're closer than we've ever been. Cross your fingers for us!

DW: Your credits include screenwriter, director and cinematographer, as well editor of film websites. Have you found that it's helpful to be so versatile?

GP: When I was in film school, I made the conscious decision to jump on every film-related opportunity which came my way. Because the more I shot and edited and acted, the better I became as a writer and director. Running the websites www.filmhelp.com and www.asianamericanfilm.com were largely a way of giving back, since I would never have gotten anywhere if other filmmakers hadn't been so helpful to me over the years. But the sites were also great for me in terms of making friends and contacts.

DW: What kind of obstacles have you run into as an independent filmmaker?

GP: All of 'em. But seriously, folks...I suppose the most frustrating obstacles have been money related. I remember talking with a friend from film school about this—in the end, it's all about survival. There are maybe thousands of people walking the planet who have the desire and potential make great movies. But only a handful manage to find a way to make a living, to stay alive, to keep working, to keep getting better as filmmakers over the years, and to finally get a shot at making their features. I feel enormously lucky that at key points over the years, I've managed to get gigs or grants or make sales which allowed me to stay in the game.

DW: Some indie filmmakers avoid the networking game, 'cause it can feel a bit like whoring. Others see it as indispensable. What about you?

GP: "Schmoozing" is kind of a dirty word. But I learned pretty early on that if I didn't get myself out there, nothing would ever happen. Specifically, if I went to a festival where one of my films was playing, I'd usually meet someone who'd end up being helpful in some way or another. But if I didn't go, I could be certain that nothing would happen. Informal, face-to-face conversations with people have always made a big difference in my career, almost random meetings with people at festivals and other events have eventually led to me getting my agent, selling my short films, and getting screenwriting gigs. On a certain level it bothers me. I don't like the way the business of the independent film world revolves so much around social events. It makes it hard to have a normal life, to nurture personal relationships and families. Not to mention the fact that excessive schmoozing can take time away from actually creating new work. But then again, I'm a social creature; I like meeting people and talking business. It's important to find some kind of balance here, to get out there enough to keep the business end of things burning, but to protect your personal life so at the end of the day the people who love you still remember your face.

DW: Tell me about the Asian and Asian-American actors and themes in your movies.

GP: I'm bi-racial: half Korean and half white. I grew up as one of the very few non-white kids in a neighborhood in Dallas, Texas. I was aware of race and racism from a very young age. What always intrigued me was that I'd get racial taunts from strangers, but almost never from people I'd gotten to know. The best antidote to racism always seemed to be honest, positive personal experience.... At their best, movies invoke deep, emotional identification from audiences. So if I put Asian people up on the big screen and folks of all backgrounds end up bonding with and identifying with those characters, in some small way I've helped give people the tools to relate with each other as people rather than as symbols or stereotypes.

DW: Robot Stories is your first feature film, and consists of several independent intricate storylines. What prompted you to bind them together as a feature?

GP: I'd written most of the stories separately with no idea of making them into a single project. At a certain point I realized they all dealt with the human heart...and robots. And the stories even had a natural emotional progression, from birth to death, and a technological progression, from mechanical robots to digital immortality. For a while I thought maybe the stories could be turned into a television series. But the more I worked on them, the clearer the overall emotional arc became and the more the project made sense as a feature film.

DW: How did you find making a feature film different from making shorts?

GP: The most important things don't change. Working with actors and creative crew to get to the heart of a scene or moment is the same, whether it's a million-dollar feature or a hundred-dollar short. But the jump in scale was huge. We had thirty crew members and thirty locations on Robot Stories — it was insanely complicated logistically. I was very lucky to have awesome producers (Kim Ima and Karin Chien) and a great assistant director (Curtis Smith) who took care of the logistical nightmares so I could concentrate on my actors and crew.

DW: Robot Stories was shot digitally. Was that an economic choice, an aesthetic choice, or was it employed to help support the themes of this film?

GP: Honestly, shooting digitally was the only way we could afford to make Robot Stories. Fortunately, [it also] made aesthetic sense for several reasons. First, from the beginning, we budgeted to transfer to 35mm film, so I knew the movie would acquire some of the organic texture and depth of film, which I felt was important to reinforce the emotional impact of the stories. Second, the movie consists of intimate, personal stories, so it made aesthetic sense to shoot lots of closeups and medium shots which good digital video renders so beautifully. Finally, shooting digitally made it easier to coordinate the various special effects which we use throughout the film — we didn't have to hassle with transferring from a film negative to video and then back again, etcetera. It all lived digitally until the final transfer to film.

DW: The Sci-Fi genre is seldom explored in the realm of independent film. How different do you think Robot Stories would have been if it had been backed by a major studio?

GP: Fundamentally, the film would be the same. It's about the human heart, after all. When writing the script, I tried to depict our futuristic technology in a sophisticated but subtle way which would allow us to shoot it properly even given our indie budget. But if we'd had millions upon millions, I'd have been able to fill in the corners a bit. I love the completeness of the world in movies like Blade Runner and A.I. It's not essential to the success of the film as an emotional experience, but it would have been a lot of fun to have been able to fully envision and realize every incidental detail of the world of Robot Stories. Airships in the background, that kind of thing. Maybe for the 25th anniversary director's cut....

DW: Reviewers of Robot Stories have focused heavily on humanity's relationship to machines. What do you feel your film says about relationships between people themselves?

GP: I think the movie's all about our struggle to connect. It's what we're built to do — we're social animals, right? But it's also one of the things we screw up the most. I think that's why people respond to the characters in Robot Stories. Human or robot, all the characters deeply ache for connection, but they have to constantly struggle with the glitches in their programming.

Check out some of Greg's shorts on www.atomfilms.com. Robot Stories opens February 13 in New York at Cinema Village and in Washington D.C. on February 20 at AFI Silver.

For more info, visit www.robotstories.net, or give Greg's sites a click: www.gregpak.com or www.filmhelp.com, which features Greg's how-to and how-not-to on the process and business of filmmaking.

Daniel Wasserman
wasserman@kemek.com

Daniel Wasserman is a frequent editorial contributor to The Rag. He lives in New York City and makes movies too.

Recently The Santa Barbara Film Festival presented its Modern Master award to acclaimed Lord of the Rings director, Peter Jackson. The honor is described as acknowledging among other things "the way an artist looks at life." A cynic could merely call this the stroking of a filmmaker who just became the highest-paid director in the world, but honestly it's due recognition of the fact that Jackson is a maverick with a distinctly independent vision, and the courage to realize it.

Jackson, 42, doesn't sport the couture of your typical Hollywood director — he's sort of stout with unkempt hair, and wears shorts without shoes as often as possible. Such casual attention to image didn't stop two girls from shrieking in awe and begging for autographs when he appeared at the Santa Barbara Arlington Theater. The festival had arranged for Jackson to sit opposite New York Times film critic Elvis Mitchell, and discuss his own journey to glory, before clips of his early work. If you're only familiar with Jackson's huge (and recent) Hollywood success, you'd have been surprised to see just how indie the man's roots really are, and how fiercely he defends them.

Jackson's early film efforts began in his home of Pukerua Bay, New Zealand, a very long way from Hollywood. Inspired by the likes of King Kong and Monty Python, he made hundreds of short films with his parents' Super8 camera, often with homemade special effects that he cooked up himself in his mother's kitchen with whatever was handy. He quit college at 17 and by 1983 he had saved enough cash from low-level newspaper jobs to make his first feature film, Bad Taste, about an attack of flesh-eating extraterrestrials. It starred Jackson, his friends and co-workers, and was loaded with humor and colossal gore and of course, plenty of home-made effects. Scheduled to take four weeks, the production instead lasted four years. When it finally saw the light of day, it won many prizes, and was screened at of all places, the Cannes Film Festival, before becoming a cult classic.

Looking at Jackson's ouvre, it's clear that he loves horror movies — especially the low-budget kind — but he insists that the material maintain a strong sense of humor. Proof of this is another of his early films, Meet the Feebles. This is a cult puppet-horror flick notable for extreme puppet violence, drug abuse, and sodomy. Somehow, perhaps thanks to liberal arts policies, this film was funded primarily through the New Zealand Film Commission, though their knowledge of the movie's turbid themes at the time of investment remains rather murky.

The next clip in the series of Jackson's own favorites was the film Dead Alive (a.k.a. Braindead), 1992, which gained him yet more recognition among fans of exceedingly gratuitous low-budget gross-out horror movies, and is occasionally referred to with great respect as the goriest movie ever made. According to Jackson, it also embroiled him in a lawsuit claiming the production had made ill use of a graveyard — along with an inference of necrophilia. In the end the case was thrown out of court, and Jackson was free and famous to concentrate to bigger and better projects.

The film that gained Jackson some footing among studio types was his fifth effort, Heavenly Creatures. It's based on a shocking murder that had occurred near his home in the 1950s, and was a complete departure from his previous bloodbucket agenda. It was his wife (and co-screenwriter and producer) Fran Walsh who pressed to make something of the tale, and well she did. With a $5M budget, Jackson was able to create a tantalizing fantasy piece (featuring his first CG shots) that changed his moviemaking for good. The film was rooted in dark truth, made a star of then-unknown Kate Winslet and garnered an Oscar nomination.

Other movies followed, but the big finish at Santa Barbara was the obvious one: Jackson's major claim to fame, the Lord of the Rings trilogy. This monumental job, among the largest film projects ever attempted, was described by Jackson modestly as "a personal film." He is often named by friends and colleagues as a very decent man, tenacious, loyal. Also a glutton for power. Such strong qualities aren't necessarily vital to pull off such a vast project, but how could he have done it otherwise? His faith was the foundation, just like on his first films. Except this time he rallied thousands of professional crewmembers instead of a handful of newspaper employees, and he'd replaced his sets knee-deep in spaghetti and yoghurt with a state-of-the-art special effects factory, running on acres of cutting-edge computer power.

Yet for Jackson, the most important idea behind Middle Earth was that it was real, and ancient, and true, and that all who worked on it believe it was so. "Middle Earth had to be a real place emotionally, to benefit the belief in the characters," said Jackson. The effort was so successful that New Zealand, where the films were of course shot, has been nicknamed Middle Earth entirely as a result of the force of Jackson's vision, and next year's King Kong remake (this time with Jackson at the helm) will again make epic use of Jackson's magnificent homeland, and his special-effects empire.

Overall, the SBIFF tribute to Jackson was exceptionally well-received. The ever-brilliant and very tall John Cleese presented the Modern Master award to Jackson, which was a special treat for honoree and audience alike. Cleese also awarded Jackson a stuffed Kiwi, as a personal gesture. This moved Jackson to comment on the Golden Globe award he recently won: Australia is represented on the Globe trophy, but there's no New Zealand. That is surely a mistake to be rectified because thanks to Peter Jackson, there's a thriving New Zealand film industry, and Hollywood is beating a path to its door.

Not bad for a filmmaker whose first film efforts came out of an oven in Pukerua Bay a little over twenty years ago.

Perry Grebin
perry@acme-pictures.com

[with reporting by Michelle Paster]
mpaster@oent.net

Perry Grebin is a writer and director in New York City, and a frequent contributor to The Rag.

Eleven, Large and Latino!

If you have read this elsewhere, fine.  If not, you heard it here first!  Originally established as a student film festival that focused on works by Latinos, the San Diego Latino Film Festival (SDLFF) is now in its eleventh year and has grown into one of the largest Latino film festivals in the United States.  They've lined up a stellar exhibition of features and docs for this one, just announced on their website, www.sdlatinofilm.com. 

Running concurrently with the SDLFF is the first-ever Sonido Latino, a Latino-culture showcase for musicians, poets, dancers, filmmakers and moviegoers. Audiences will be treated to a wide array of Latino sounds, images and rhythms in the nightly performances at the Madstone Theaters Hazard Center. 

(For any agent who has his or her assistant read material aloud, we'd like to clarify: a Latino Film Festival does not mean the films will be in Latin with English subtitles.)

The 2004 San Diego Latino Film Festival runs March 11-21, 2004.

www.sdlatinofilm.com

You Can Make a Fortune, but Can You Make a Living?

Many have said that in order to sell your idea to Hollywood all you need is a photo of a well-known producer in a compromising position with a goat.  Okay, no one really says that, plus that's not really being fair to the goat and we're sorry.  Anyway, on March 20 and 21, 2004, in West LA, the good people at www.hollywoodfestival.com are sponsoring Sell Your Story to Hollywood Buyers™. 

Every year over $500 million is spent acquiring and/or developing new ideas/stories/screenplays in Hollywood, and this two-day networking juggernaut will give you serious help in making some of that dough yours.  Day One includes panel discussions on "Pitching Your Story": consultants and producers help participants practice their pitch, and Day Two features actual pitch sessions with agents, development executives and producers with sign-ups on a first-come, first-served basis.  To enlarge your opportunities however, you must first make your wallet smaller: The two-day event is $295.00. 

www.hollywoodfestival.com

Short Visits to New York City

Once a year thousands of New Yorkers (and, rumor has it, one lady from Altoona, PA) gather at sunset in Union Square Park in Manhattan to view a top-crop of selected short films from around the world. 

The Manhattan Short Film Festival is now open for submissions for this year's festival, to be held on September 18, 2004.   As in years past, the festival prize is a big one, and very practical. The grand prize winner is awarded all the necessary equipment and services to create a feature-length film, except script and talent (we'll assume the winner already has those).

Early deadline for the festival is March 1, 2004, and the regular deadline is July 31, 2004.  If you're interested in viewing the selection committee's predilections, the festival's website will be posting a "Film of the Week" from its archive of finalists from its seven year history.

www.msfilmfest.com

Get Yer Hot Docs Here

It's North America's largest documentary film festival and market, and it's celebrating its 11th year.  We're talking Hot Docs, the Toronto-based festival that presents innovative and provocative documentaries from Canada and around the world. 

But Hot Docs won't be resting on its laurels. Over 100 documentaries will be shown, with an expanded slate of industry programs including the 5th Annual Toronto Documentary Forum (TDF), which is pretty well-known itself.

Hot Docs' market, meanwhile, has become a magnet not just for the festival's selected filmmakers, but for all documentary professionals to meet, conduct business and locate financing for future projects.

For media contacts and registration:
Virginia Kelly: virginia.vk@sympatico.ca

Hot Docs contact:
Caroline Veldhuis: cveldhuis@hotdocs.ca

First came The Bay City Rollers...Now it's Mirrorball

Edinburgh's International Film Festival has celebrated the art of cinema for almost sixty years (58, to be exact) and attracts and celebrates some pretty important filmmakers and their works.

What's the EIFF got to do with me? you say. I'm just a fledgling filmmaker, I'm not that important. If I were, would I really be subscribing to a free newsletter? (We hope so.) Plus I'm not even Scottish.

Well, the Scottish thing is your problem, but this year there's a subcategeoy at the EIFF called Mirrorball, a showcase for fledgling filmmakers. Submitting is free (Freedom!) and the deadline is June 11, 2004.  Your work must be new to be eligible, and you need not be Scottish to enter. You may however, have to eat haggis. Not really.

www.edfilmfest.org.uk

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