If you weren’t in the room, here’s your chance to read how it was done.  The  transcript of 

And here’s the New Yorker blog post that tipped us off.

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1) I miss my treehouse only 12 ft off the ground but there I was king and had escaped from it all (even if it had yet to begin).
2)We had a pine grove behind where I grew up where the trees were tall and straight and all in a line and the ground was soft with needles from years upon years — until that other kid burned it down.
3)I walked into the movie theater near Smith College on a winter day playing hooky from work. 3 people were there. Napoleon w three projectors. I went back in time and forward all at once and knew I would change my life.
4)Vanessa & I were already madly deeply but it was early. Maui. Under a rock at the top of the volcano in the rain with bad wine and a friend singing opera above us, later through the bamboo forest to the seven falls, narrowly missing a falling rock, hidden beaches w pink sands all by ourselves (we thought), racing across the far side feeling it was the moon, arriving for my lecture in swim trunks and sand in my shoes.
5) We were bicycling or walking, in Brooklyn over the bridges, on the beach at Labor Day, in Paris, maybe even on a long drive, but it was all three of us, and he wan’t sure he could do it and maybe he did have a fit along the way, but afterwards it was always the greatest day ever.

They are all both moments of change and peace . At first I was alone, then not, ever expanding, growing confident, trusting, hopeful.

Can we ever build these environments?  Can we ever feel what we felt then when we recreate them on screen?  

Do we think enough about them now when we try to capture something like that on the page?  Have you ever tried to name yours?  Shouldn’t that be a lesson we ask ourselves annually?

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“Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.”

- Neil Gaiman (via Brainpickings).

Read Neil Gaiman’s Full 8 Tips on Writing here.

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It’s been out and around for awhile but I still find “Sorkinisms — A Supercut” kind of remarkable.  

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With the world economy on the brink, the current environment has rarely been so tough for independent filmmakers. To get our films made and, even more so, to see them sold and/or distributed, is getting incredibly challenging. Foreign sales estimates for low budget independent films are a tenth of what they used to be pre-2008, and let’s not be fooled by the numbers. We will be happy if we sell at all, even for symbolic numbers. From a filmmaker’s perspective, we have entered a dichotomous world: a shrinking pool of independent films do well; most don’t make any significant business. It is now as if there is only room for one indie hit per year. If you are not that film that everybody wants, you barely exist and your business footprint will be close to zero.

Now, you can look at this situation in two different ways. One way is to adjust to the market and give it what it wants, or can economically bare. This means making genre films that still have somewhat of a market and will recoup as long as they are technically sound and are made for the right price. You can also continue to make “art house” films (for lack of a better word) as long as you don’t spend more than $80,000 making them, since this is what you can realistically hope to net from world wide sales if the film turns out okay and has a decent festival run.

But the other way to look at these dire market conditions is to ask ourselves: does the world really need another decent film? The elephant in the room is that most films are bad or average. Back when the economy was strong and there was a theatrical and DVD market for indie films, decent films used to do well enough to justify the venture from a business standpoint, but not anymore.

Even if no filmmaker or producer sets out to make yet another average film, we would be lying to ourselves if we were claiming that we never went in production on a film knowing full well that the script needed another pass, or praying that an average director would turn a good script into a great film, or that we would be able to cut around bad performance.

But the reality is that there is no room for average films anymore. There isn’t even much room for good movies unless they are backed by heavyweight distributors. We can lament about how unfair, how scandalous it is that our labour-of-love films don’t sell and nobody sees themt. Or we can accept the reality of the market and raise the bar of what we produce.

A month or so ago, someone asked me WHY i was a producer. I am so used to people asking me WHAT a producer is, but I was taken aback by this very simple question, and I didn’t know what to say. Producing is so much part of me that I cannot contemplate doing anything else, but that doesn’t answer the question.

But I realized after the fact that the WHY question is fundamental, and even more so considering the difficulties the indie film world is facing today. Since we are certainly not doing it for the money (and in most cases unfortunately not even for our investors’ money), then why are we doing it? Not for the hours, obviously. Producing is not the healthiest or stress-free occupation. And from a human standpoint, it is rarely satisfying either. As a function of what we do, we are at the receiving end of all grievances and rarely get any recognition when things do go well because, you know, all is normal then…

So why are we doing it?

Because there is nothing like the experience of watching an amazing film and being devastated, blown away, changed by it. For me, it started with Akira Kurosawa’s Ran. I remember being unable to speak for the rest of the day, and trying to find a way to merge with that world, keep it alive in my head, escape in it.

So deep down, this is what has been driving me: I want to hurt the audience with beauty, emotionally wreck the viewers by exposing them to true art. This is the WHY. This is why I want to make movies. But I guess this is very easy to lose sight of this as we struggle with the reality of the business, and making a living, and deal with the pressure of “producing something” to justify being a producer.

In an oft-quoted letter to his friend Oskar Pollak, Franz Kafka wrote: “I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we are reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for? …we need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.”

Of course, creating truly great art is incredibly difficult, and depends on so many factors, most of them beyond our control as producers. It is likely beyond most producers’ or filmmakers’ ability actually. There are plenty of competent people, but true talent is scarce. And even with the best intentions, the highest artistic integrity, there is never any guarantee of success.

But our responsibility, more than ever, is to try, to be intransigeant with content, to look at our slate with a cold heart and ask ourselves: does this movie really need to be made? And why? Would I honestly go see it if I wasn’t the producer? It is so hard to get something made that making something, anything, seems like an achievement in itself. But it is not good enough, not anymore.

And in answering these questions, let’s be honest. If what we read is not truly great, not really original, not inspired, if the demo-reel we are watching is average, if the ending doesn’t quite work, let’s keep working, let’s keep writing, let’s keep looking for the right creative partners and the right elements.

So rather than lament the lack of opportunities, our response as producers to these dire times should be to try and make better films, make great films, not just good ones. Films that will get seen, and distributed, regardless of the market conditions, the weather, venus’ transit or what other movie is being released that week.

There is no room for good anymore, but simply making good movies is not why we got into this anyways, so maybe this is our opportunity to become who we always wanted to be, and do what we always aspired to: make films that break the frozen sea inside.

Julien Favre is a producer at DViant Films, an independent film company based in Los Angeles and Toronto. The company’s latest release, Martin Donovan’s Collaborator, opens at the Egyptian in Los Angeles this Friday.

COLLABORATOR opens theatrically in Los Angeles tomorrow (Friday, July 20th) for a limited one week run.  Screening times here.

As of this writing COLLABORATOR is 82% “Fresh” at Rotten Tomatoes.

How To Watch Collaborator:

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I learn a great deal from the “noble failures”, the films that have ambition but just miss the mark fully in execution. I honestly like these films and find pleasure in watching them, but I also know that most people like their entertainment and culture to be in a more perfectly realized state — even if most of us don’t have the resources to bring our work to that state. I think most people’s taste is shaped by their training; we learn to like what we get — unfortunately.

Yet I also think there are some things that always connect and strike a chord with the audience.  These universal pleasures are not story tricks or character traits per se, but  themes we discover in the stories that move us most,  concepts that help people relate and engage with the work we watch.  Yet, since it is summer, the movies that come to most of us are designed to separate us from our wallets; the movies of summer are supposed to be what most people want.  I go to check them out with the rest of the hordes, and I walk away with less than I entered with.  I am not just talking about the loss of money and time either, I have lost some of my spirit.  The filmmakers and the financiers, the huge team of collaborators responsible for getting the work in front of people, all seem to forget some of the good stuff.  Shouldn’t we all be asking ourselves what really matters?  I think the answers still can be very entertaining.

Years ago, I had a sit-down with the filmmaker Michael Moore.  I confessed to him that I had formerly been a community organizer and felt a bit foolish sometimes having devoted my life subsequently to getting films made and seen.  I wanted to return to politics and bring about some change.  Michael stared at me a bit confused.  The room was silent for a minute before it reminded me that all my films were political:  that by giving characters respect and depth, by allowing the audience the room to make up their own mind, by demonstrating a commitment to quality and art — verses just profit and dreck — I was doing something very political.

I do try to think about the world, about the power of my labor and what I can add to the world.  I ask myself: “what is needed?” Sometimes these themes infect my stories and projects.  Sometimes they effect my polices and methods.  Sometimes they shape my commitments and relationships.  I think they make my films better.  I think they could make your life better too.  I think if we let them into our lives and art and business, we will build a better world together.  At least I am willing to hope that they all will.  And give my life, labor, and love to the effort to prove they might.

What am I talking about?  I am not really sure honestly, but I am happy to give a try to articulating it further.  My list’s not in an order, and I am sure to miss some very important things.  I will fail.  I will get it wrong. But isn’t that what a conversation is all about: a group endeavor to unearth something greater?

1. Empathy – Making movies is a privilege.  Our path and those of others could have easily gone a different way with a little bit of influence, good or bad.  There will always be so many good movies yet to be made because all characters can be related to.  Until you can walk in another’s shoes, you are not ready to begin the journey.
2. Justice -Bryan Stevenson’s Ted Talk speaks well of the connection we feel when we see and combat injustice in the world.  What could ever be a greater good?
3. Change/Growth – It is so easy to get stuck in a rut.  It is so easy not to see the forest for the trees.  It is hard to keep a perspective on things.  We can’t stand still.  I don’t think we can do it alone.  We need to check to make sure we are always moving forward, and are loved ones are doing the same.
4. Emotional Truth – People forget how to live.  We model ourselves on the world around us.  The surface of things takes precedence over the depth if don’t commit to digging deeper. Simple is not what we are.  Go further. Creation requires an acceptance of responsibility for and with what is delivered.
5. Identity – Who are we?  Who are they?  Why are we unique? Why are we the same?  What’s not to celebrate?
6. Specificity – There is a universal aspect to the culturally specific.   There is freedom in the commitment.  Freedom requires responsibility.  Limits expand horizons.  Make a commitment and embrace it.  Generalities, including this one, are all lies.
7. Compassion – It is not easy.  It is not fair. No one has earned it.  We make mistakes.  The nature of human kind is to fail.  So get over it and let your heart lead your mind and body.  We can all relate.
8. Generosity – It is not a zero sum game.  There is more than enough for everybody.  Getting yours does not means they can have more or get their first.  If we reach out and provide, everyone accelerates.  Nothing else feels better than giving it away.
9. Curiosity – Does it need to be this way?  Could it be done another way?  Why them? Why then?  What lies beneath?
10. Ambition – We all need something to aspire to and that is the role of art.  We show ourselves and everyone else what we could be.  If we refuse to settle, we lift everyone up with us.
11. There is no end.  No list will be finished. No film truly completed.  It’s an ongoing story with many authors, collaborators,  participants, and proselytizers.  We are mayflies on the windshield of history.  Evolution is the way of everything.

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This is your life. Do what you love, and do it often. If you don’t like something, change it. If you don’t like your job, quit. (continued)

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Hat Tip BrainPickings.org again

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I am thrilled with the love that has been bestowed upon our film DARK HORSE. We open today, at The Angelika in NYC. One screen. Hopefully we will play for months. Hopefully this review will fill the seats. Wow. Wow. Wow.

It’s nice when something you’ve worked years on, sacrificed a chunk of your fee on, that you’ve chosen to distribute, goes off and gets one of BEST REVIEWS EVER from AO Scott & the NY F’n Times!

http://movies.nytimes.com/2012/06/08/movies/todd-solondzs-dark-horse-stars-jordan-gelber.html#

“Mr. Solondz brilliantly — triumphantly — turns this impression on its head, transforming what might have been an exercise in easy satirical cruelty into a tremendously moving argument for the necessity of compassion.”Tweet

“YouTubers Upload 72 Hours of Video Every Minute”  That’s up from 48 hours a year ago.  At what age do we reach Saturation Point?  I already have: I have identified every film I would like to see — if I am able to maintain my maximum rate of consumption — to carry me 5 years past my life expectancy.  The very nature of technology indicates that in less than ten years, a twenty year old cinephile will have done the same.  I expect that to happen much sooner though.  Audiences will have no “need” for the new.  We have so many cute animals and children doing silly things after all.  Who really needs an ambitious and relevant cinema?  So why do anything to preserve it (let alone advance it)?  Let’s just bury our heads and try to hold onto what is left of our jobs.  Right?

I am glad there are those that know otherwise.

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Thanks to MovieCityNews for tip.Tweet

When you make a movie, always try to discover what the theme of the movie is in one or two words. Every time I made a film, I always knew what I thought the theme was, the core, in one word. In “The Godfather,” it was succession. In “The Conversation,” it was privacy. In “Apocalypse,” it was morality.

The reason it’s important to have this is because most of the time what a director really does is make decisions. All day long: Do you want it to be long hair or short hair? Do you want a dress or pants? Do you want a beard or no beard? There are many times when you don’t know the answer. Knowing what the theme is always helps you.

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This is 1000% cool, imaginative, humorous, and thrilling. I am going to do the US remake and keep it completely identical, including the language and stars!Tweet