Earlier this week, journalist and television producer David Cox took to the Guardian film blog to write an article launching a pretty scathing and misinformed evaluation of the current state of British short films:

Early last year, I completed my debut feature film, Life Just Is – an arthouse drama about a week in the lives of some recent graduates who struggle to cope with the romantic and existential problems raised by the transition into adulthood proper. The making of the film was outlined on DN across three previous pieces; Taking the Plunge, From Paper Cut to Fine Cut and Finishing the Film. Now, almost a year on, it seemed fitting to attempt to chart the journey that my producers and I have been on since finishing the film. If you’ve ever been told that making the film is only half the battle, you’ve been told right…

As I detailed in my previous post, we held a cast and crew screening for the film shortly after completing it. What I didn’t mention was that, alongside this screening, we also held a small, private screening for industry professionals at MPC in Soho. The guest list was assembled from prior industry contacts and people whose details we collated over hours and hours of research: essentially, we wanted to show the film to as many sales agents and distributors as possible. As can be expected, the screening was an extremely stressful event – the first time the film was going in front of the industry gatekeepers. I remember at the time feeling a distinct sense of distress in the pit of my stomach, and coming away feeling like it was a total disaster. Looking back, I don’t know why… Sure, several of our target distributors didn’t show up and a few who did come walked out halfway through, but there were also plenty of compliments and, best of all, some interest in the film. This interest soon developed into a distribution deal with Independent Distribution, meaning that, far from being a disaster, we had achieved exactly what we wanted from the screening.

Before committing to the deal with Independent Distribution, however, we decided we wanted to explore our options. As mentioned, not all of our target distributors made it to the screening, so we began a lengthy process of sending out screeners, receiving feedback and discussing the film with other companies. But ultimately it was the offer from Independent Distribution, made off the back of the industry screening, that we decided to accept.

However, it wasn’t quite as simple as us just saying yes. Like any distributor would have done, Independent requested a long list of deliverables. Most problematic for us was the small matter of E&O insurance. We had included the cost of the insurance in our budget… but we’d (significantly) underestimated how much it would cost. There was also the added complication of a couple of uncleared logos in the film, which the insurer wanted to exclude from the policy. For a short while, it seemed like we were going to stumble at the last hurdle.

While all of this was going on, however, we’d received some good news: the film had been selected by the Edinburgh International Film Festival and what’s more, it had been chosen to play in competition for the Michael Powell Award for Best British Film. The news was a good boost for morale and provided us with the perfect platform from which to launch the film in the UK. It also provided Life Just Is with an extra level of ‘approval’ from the industry, which perhaps proved useful in helping us find the additional investment we needed to purchase the E&O insurance. Thanks to some sterling work from our assistant producer, Roland Holmes, we were even able to clear all the necessary logos and get the insurance with no exclusions!

Nevertheless, even with the E&O insurance secured and the film’s world premiere lined up, both festivals and deliverables continued to give us something of a headache. Festival submissions are something of a nightmare to navigate due to various premiere policies, while the deliverables list simply ended up being a lot of work to put together.

Still, with the deliverables finally assembled and the contract signed, we decided to announce the deal with Independent during the Cannes Film Festival, in order to help us maximise publicity. We also held a market screening during the festival, with an eye to selling the film internationally. We had a good response to the screening (including a very nice review from Robert Koehler), though ultimately we didn’t succeed in getting many distributors or sales agents along – but as Cannes is something of a meat market, I’m just happy there was anyone there.

The following month was our world premiere at Edinburgh. Like at the test screening we held during postproduction, the reaction to the film seemed mixed. But we had two good Q&A sessions, in which the questions revealed a high level of engagement amongst audience members – surely a good sign. We were also selected for both the ‘Best of the Fest’ screenings and a special series of highlight screenings that the festival curated for a partner venue in London, meaning that we were off to a good start.

Under the terms of the deal with Independent, we had agreed that we would take on the mantle of organising the theatrical screenings ourselves. With this in mind, we began to approach venues, sending out more screeners and opening dialogues. Luckily for us, the programmers at the BFI Southbank enjoyed the film and agreed to give us a two-week run. From there, we set about securing screenings at venues including the ICA, Riverside Studios and Genesis Cinema.

Then, finally, the moment of release was upon us. It’s hard to describe the joy, relief, stress and palpable tension caused by sending your film out into the world. I have been working on Life Just Is on and off for the last seven years. For better or for worse, I’ve poured my heart and soul into the film, and it’s understandably become a huge part of my life. The negative comments, somehow, stick in your gut like a knife, while the positive comments (of which there were many, including the honour of being selected as Mark Kermode’s DVD of the Week) seem almost instantly forgotten.

Still, the film is out there now, out in the world and taking on a life of its own. Though that’s not to say we’re not still working hard on it – we still have our sights set on launching internationally. But work on the project is slowly easing off, and now I’m back to square one, hoping I’ll have the chance to do it all again…

Life Just Is is available now on DVD and VOD from all good stockists in the UK and Ireland. Also available are two books released to tie in with the film’s release: Life Just Is: Director’s Journal and Life Just Is: Scriptbook. The former presents an honest and open account of the making of the film, containing as it does an edited version of the journal I kept throughout the seven-year making of the film. The latter contains both the first and final draft of the script. The two books are available internationally on Amazon.

I first came across Mark Jenkin’s work running Filmstock, when his first film Golden Burn came across our path. It’s been a long time since that film, and Jenkin has grown into an accomplished feature filmmaker. His latest film is Happy Christmas, shot in 2011 and released for free on Vimeo over the 2012 festive period. It’s meditative and contemplative certainly, but without story it most certainly isn’t. Or stories more accurately. The film captures a tone and pace that is uniquely Cornwall, but with characters, moments and interactions that are universal in their humanity, awkwardness and fragility. There is a balance of the local, the quirky regional, and the deeply cinematic that makes it both engaging and moving. The film follows an ensemble of characters struggling with the pressure that comes from modern Christmas festivities and teases out drama through some beautifully tempered dialogue, a fine score and fine performances. The photography is delicate and purposeful and creates surreality and transcendence from the seemingly mundane.

The theme of journeys, both literal in the sense that much of the film follows characters journeying, reflects the emotional journeys undertaken within families at the end of every year as they confront each other and themselves, reflect and look forward. The spirit of the film is reflected in its production. Influenced by the likes of Cassavetes and Godard and embracing the immediate and the unpredictable, the film feels alive with ideas and emotion even as the pace is slow and reflective.

I’m from a small coastal town on the South East coast (of Ireland) and try to get back there as much as I can. In doing four years of animation training in Ireland I met some great people who I continue to work with now. Then there’s my old life drawing teacher who continues to be influential and is always brilliant to talk to and mull things over with – a great friend. It’s hard for me to contemplate how Ireland has affected my work – I don’t really think about it, it’s just part of who I am! I think my work would be very different if I didn’t grow up there.

I’M FINE THANKS – 2011

Up until I’m Fine Thanks all of my work was in black and white or used very desaturated colours. This was largely because I didn’t feel that colour was my strong point or that I knew enough about it. When I finished my BA I slowly began to work more with colour. Mainly through painting. Then going into the RCA I knew they had a great colour reference library. When I got there I made a point of working with colour to try get past that fear. With I’m Fine Thanks it just seemed right to juxtapose the bright cartoon world against a darker story. I tried to use the colour to support the narrative – as things fall apart the colour becomes more intense.

That’s a big question. There’s so much stuff. I tend to watch a lot more live action than animation so directors ranging from Haneke to the Coens. I like Lynne Ramsay’s and Andrea Arnold’s short films in particular. Roy Andersson’s observations on day to day life are amazing. I just saw The Master so PT Anderson is on my mind. I love comics too – my absolute favorite cartoonist is Jason  – he evokes so much emotion with such restraint. His book ‘Why Are You Doing This?’ was hugely influential. Chris Ware goes without saying too. I try to read as much as I can but not nearly enough as I should. I particularly like short stories – Raymond Carver’s writing is a big inspiration. Then there’s drawing and illustration, way too many artists to list. Anything with a great sense of storytelling. In terms of my source material for my own films I think just day to day life, things that bother me, things I notice, conversations, feelings, observations, experiences!

FOLLOW EAMONN

Having grown up on a small farm on the remote Scottish island of Sanday (an island with a population of around 400 people), where she spent her childhood riding horses, playing in ancient burial sites and walking on unspoilt sandy beaches, it’s easy to see where the inspiration for Selina Wagner’s animations comes from. With films centring around myths and wildlife, her upbringing surrounded “by the natural forces of the weather and sea” have obviously played a large role in moulding her creative output.

“I was always very creative growing up and was obsessed with drawing animals and people in dramatic poses. For my final year at school, in CSYS Art ( I don’t think it’s called that anymore) I spent a whole year studying animals in movement, but nobody suggested I actually try animation or even film-making as we just didn’t have the resources at my school up in the Orkney Islands back then”.

“I moved to Edinburgh to study Visual Communications at the Edinburgh College of Art, with the idea that I would do illustration, but when I tried a 5 day animation block, I knew instantly that it was what I wanted to do.  It seemed like a dream come true to find an outlet that combined acting, storytelling, drawing and problem solving”.

It was during her studies that Selina really started to develop her distinct style:

“My early animation which was created at the Edinburgh College of Art, was all about experimenting which is why it was such a fantastic course. It really was about allowing students to let loose with moving image and make the most of the equipment there. In my third year, I started experimenting with under-the-camera work which involved drawing pictures into black block ink and lighting it underneath to create the lines. It was great to work fluidly like this and allow the animation to evolve itself. I do remember realising half way through a little film, that my character had shrunk to half the size I had started with! That’s the challenge of working frame to frame as opposed to using keyframes!”

Winner of the 2012 prestigious Cartoon d’Or award (along with various other festival awards), Belgian filmmaker Emma De Swaef is certainly making a name for herself with her unusual techniques and unique narratives. Over the years, animators have gained a reputation for using anything they can get their hands on to create films and in the world of the animated short, we’ve seen filmmakers employ snow, sand, balloons and t-shirts as tools for their creative masterpieces. De Swaef has taken this ingenious use of materials to a whole new level and carved out her very own niche by utilising wool and textiles to create one of the most distinctive, breathtaking styles you’re ever likely to see on screens big or small. With her latest short Oh Willy currently touring film festivals worldwide and only just missing out on an Oscar nomination, we talk to inspirations, wool and future projects with one of animations hottest properties.

Inspired to make puppets by Kieslowski’s The Double Life of Veronica (even pointing to this specific scene as the moment of inspiration) and Sesame Street, De Swaef’s filmmaking career blossomed as her interest in bringing characters to life and creating a world for them to inhabit developed into a passion for stop-motion animation.

“Arranging all the props onto the tables (at this point everything looks a mess), moving everything around, scattering woolnepps, adding blobs of wool here and there, and most importantly, setting up the light. Slowly but surely depth is created, and in the best cases, a sort of emotionality or expressiveness is created in the way the light interacts with the wool.”

Yet, just like Hisko Hulsing and Joseph Pierce, the first two inductees of the TheyAreAnimators series, De Swaef didn’t step straight into the world of animation (seems to be a recurring theme). Having studied documentary filmmaking at the Sint Lukas art school in Brussels, her filmmaking techniques aren’t inspired directly by peers in her chosen field. Instead this unconventional animator casts her net much wider for inspiration:

“This might sound a little strange, but animation isn’t the film genre I’m most interested in. I draw more inspiration from (documentary) photography, literature and live action films than animation films. I do like watching them sometimes, but find myself paying more attention to the technique than the actual story. As I started to develop more and more of an interest in animation, I applied for an internship at the Beast Animation studios“.

Whilst studying in Belgium, De Swaef decided to take her filmmaking career down a new and somewhat risky path with a short she described to the jury at her graduation as, “a documentary showing the escapist fantasies of office workers.”

“In my first year at school I made a documentary about a man named Willy, a lockkeeper in Ghent. I really liked the way he looked, his shape and soft sensibilities, so I wanted to make another film about him. This time I wanted to focus on his inner life rather than his job, using animation. I started thinking about what Willy could be thinking about, sitting in his office, waiting for time to go by. The result was Zachte Planten.”

“Probably if I had known more about stop-motion back then I would’ve realized it was impossible to make a 10 minute stop-motion film with no money and a few weeks time and never started. But I guess our ignorance just made us go ahead with it. We’ll try and keep the same ‘stupid’ attitude for our next projects, writing scenes just because they are funny or will make the story work better, not thinking about how much work they will be to film or whether or not it’s impossible to do.

Zachte Planten is very flawed in many ways, but it showed enough promise to get people to fund the new project. I know a lot of the film commissions really hesitated to fund Oh Willy… because of the strange scenario. In the end their curiosity about the result always prevailed over their hesitations though, and astonishingly enough we ended up getting all the funding we applied for”.

“But the result isn’t offensive at all. Seeing how mellow and accessible Zachte Planten had become, we realized how far we could go with content in this woolly style. A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down! It made us realize how many subjects that are too uncomfortable or weird in a live-action movie become a lot more digestible when animated in wool. This time we wanted the film to have more of an edge though, so we decided not censor ourselves in the writing at all.”

Described on Vimeo as “part sequel, part remake (in reference to Zachte Planten) but with more nudity, sick, poo, sci-fi and horror”, her latest award-winning short Oh Willy… sees De Swaef take a blossoming style and plot to a new extreme.

Fifty-something Willy returns to the naturist community where he has spent his youth to visit his dying mother. When she dies shortly after he arrives, Willy is confronted with the choices he made in his life. In confused sadness he flees away into the forest. After a rough start he finds the motherly protection of a big gentle hairy beast.

Completely made out of wool or textile, the combination of these materials with the nudism in Oh Willy… is a match made in heaven (a sentence I never thought I’d say in my life!), but was nudism/naturism always something De Swaef wanted to include in her latest creation or was it more inspired by the materials she was working with?

“The photos are as poetic as they are uncomfortably banal and confronting. We wanted to achieve the same tension between poetry and shockingly uncensored imagery by combining the wool with the theme of naturism and question of what it means to live in a natural way.”

Whilst there is no doubting the unusual storyline that unfolds throughout the near 17 minute running time of Oh Willy… and it’s something you won’t forget very quickly, the story is always going to somewhat play second fiddle to the film’s striking visual style. It’s hard to even imagine how you go about creating a film entirely out of textiles such as wool and although De Swaef describes it as “a comforting, warm, forgiving material”, what was it really like to work with?

“In a way there were a lot of similarities too. For ‘Zachte Planten’, I spent about three weeks pricking wool into foam tree trunks to make a forest, a very repetitive task. For ‘Oh Willy…’, I was doing the exact same thing, only now with two interns by my side, creating a bigger forest. We couldn’t re-use the old trees because I decided to use Islandic wool instead of merino… At that moment the two productions felt very similar.”

Currently touring film festivals where along with its Cartoon d’Or awards it has also picked up awards in Bristol, Utrecht, Zagreb and Baden, Oh Willy… is building its creator a reputation as one of the most exciting animators around. But how has the De Swaef found showing her film to a live audience and how did she settle on a distribution strategy?

Like Hisko Hulsing, who kicked off our TheyAreAnimators series, Pierce’s journey into animation has been anything but conventional. Having first tried his hand at acting, before realising “he didn’t have the unrelenting energy to go all away”, Pierce found himself inspired by his new found love for the work of Czech filmmaker Jan Švankmajeris to make the transition to the other side of the camera. With his newly discovered passion for filmmaking, the aspiring director found himself enrolled on the Directing Animation course at the The National Film and Television School, but again this was a journey which was to include a pretty big diversion along the way.

“I actually only went to the NFTS after being rejected by the Royal College of Art. Through my bitter tears I asked what was wrong with me and was told I lacked originality (I was still aping a certain Czech master). This transpired to be the best thing that’s happened to me as I took the criticism and got into the film school. At the NFTS you’re inspired by your peers and work to an industry standard.”

Pierce may have encountered a few detours enroute to his chosen path, but his experiences along the way have help mould the filmmaker he has become today. His time at the NFTS in particular helping him focus more on storytelling and giving him inspiration to develop the “rotoscoped technique that was bouncing round” his head. This rotoscope style would serve the filmmaker well in his upcoming productions, with his first three shorts all employing the style with rib-splitting effect:

Stand Up – 2008

Grabbing my attention when it won Best British film at the 2008 London International Animation Festival, Pierce’s first short Stand Up was created as his graduation piece whilst studying at the NFTS.

Told through a single stand-up comedy routine, John J Jones performs to an unforgiving audience. As he loses their interest, his body rebels against him, and the truth behind the one-liners leaks through the cracks. This is car-crash comedy at its most compulsive.

A Family Portrait – 2009

Carrying on the the impressive introduction Pierce had made into the world of shorts with Stand Up, his second film A Family Portrait builds on the outstanding groundwork his debut production had laid. Once again showcasing the animator’s unmistakable rotoscope technique, A Family Portrait not only sees Pierce honing his visual skills, but also the flair for storytelling he developed during his studies and exposes the dark sense of humour that runs throughout all his films.

A family portrait goes horribly wrong as jealousy and suspicion bubble to the surface under the photographer’s relentless gaze. As the session reaches a disturbing conclusion, it’s clear that this truly will be a day to remember.

The Pub – 2011

Screened at the recent Rushes Soho shorts festival, The Pub – the third in a trilogy of rotoscoped shorts – submerges us in the eccentric environment of a typical London boozer.

Kemi lives and works in the murky slipstream of a North London pub. As the booze flows the line between who belongs behind and in front of the bar becomes increasingly blurred.

“The first two are very much about repressing emotions, bravado and that ‘stiff upper-lip’ culture that is still very British. The Pub is in part a work of self-loathing, living above a pub in Camden as I did at the time delivers some of the more extremes in our culture.”

Citing “The Dogme movement (esp Thomas Vinterberg’s Festen), Paula Rego, Lucien Freud, Aubrey Beardsley, Martin Parr, Ken Loach, Bad comedy, social awkwardness (my own and others) and of course other indie animators” as inspiration for his work, Pierce is obviously an artist with a love for his chosen medium (as well as those that gravitate around it). With three shorts complete, the style developed in his films has become almost his personal brand. For those familiar with Pierce’s work, the offbeat appearance of his films has become as recognisable as an unexpected dance routine in a Hal Hartley movie. But was this an intentional signature or something which developed more organically?

“It kind of happened by accident, I’ve always wanted to draw but can’t really draw, um well. So I cheated and traced over the top. I soon realized this was incredibly boring until I started exaggerating and distorting. From there, yeah it was quite organic. I tend not to script the ‘animated’ elements too heavily and really take inspiration from the live-action frame infront of me. For me it is a happy medium between the reality of live-action and the surreal nature of animation.

“On a more technical/geeky side I’ve used pencil, Wacom, printouts and a Cintiq to complete my shorts. In that order.”

Pierce is more than familiar with the festival circuit around the world, with his first two films picking up awards in Spain, Poland, Germany, Japan and the USA as they made their way around the globe. Like many filmmakers now, Pierce lets his films enjoy a festival run before releasing them online, but how does he feels about the two very different lines of distribution? Does he prefer taking his films round the festivals, so he can meet like-minded people and discus his films face to face with others or is the instant feedback provided by a network of fans and peers on Vimeo more appealing?

“I think about this a lot, and although I question it I’m no film festival-denier. To be so would really be biting the hand that feeds for me, both financially and in career support. I mean there’s a fair amount of bullshit around some festivals, a lot of posturing, an air of exclusivity, entrance fees etc. but on the whole I can mostly say nice things. You get the chance to meet people from the other side of the world who are in the same boat, get personal feedback AND free drinks.

I love Vimeo and the community it creates, some people say it’s poncey or people are too nice but it can be accessed by everyone and the videos look great (ironically it’s higher quality than a lot of fests show). Releasing a film online is a fantastic rush and it’s important not to leave it too long but you know animation takes a long time, you might as well milk it.”

With his first two shorts racking up almost a quarter of a million hits on Vimeo and his latest The Pub just released online after making an impression on the festival circuit, what’s next for Joseph Pierce?

“I finished work on the Olympics Opening ceremony, working for 59 Productions, expect the DVD to have even more of our work on! I’m working on getting an adult animated feature to see the light of day and hopefully starting on animation for an exciting new theatre piece.”

Having “accidentally rolled into animation” whilst studying painting at the Art Academy of Rotterdam in 1995, Dutch filmmaker Hisko Hulsing doesn’t show the signs of a man who has stumbled into his field. Anyone who’s seen his work will be in no doubt that this is a master of the craft, his painterly touch, meticulous eye for detail and aptitude for storytelling shining so brightly throughout his films. Experiencing his work is almost like taking a leisurely stroll around a gallery of paintings, whilst someone recalls the most engaging of stories in your ear. Part of you wants to stop, pause and take in the majesty of the visuals, whilst the rest of you is whisked away, caught up in the twisting narrative and the flow of the story.

Hulsing’s initial foray into animation came about because of his desire to collaborate with brother Milan, a comic artist who has been publishing comics and illustrations since the mid nineties. The siblings “fantasised about making an animated film together”, but Hisko’s interest in the craft soon led to full-on obsession as the artist began to comprehend the almost limitless potential of the art form.

“I started studying all aspects of live-action filmmaking, in order to become a good director. I became a real filmbuff, I watched thousands of films, read many books about filmmaking and although I have never directed a live-action film, I use all the knowledge I have to make films that are cinematic and well edited and tell a straightforward story in visual attractive ways”.

Hulsing’s latest, Junkyard is his third short in thirteen years, a portfolio which may seem sparse to some filmmakers, but not when you consider his most recent film was six and a half years in production. Work on Hulsing’s first animation Harry Rents a Room began during his apprenticeship in the Bratri v Triku studio in Prague. The short was completed with finances the director was able to accrue with his commercial work and was even screened before Cronenberg’s Existenz in Dutch cinemas and during select screenings of Gilliam’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas in the Czech Republic and Slovakia. In 2004, Hulsing’s second short Seventeen – the tale of a shy seventeen-year-old construction worker attempting to hold his own in the macho world of roofers – saw the director receive his first taste of critical acclaim. Playing at numerous festivals worldwide, where it wowed audiences and critics alike, in 2005 Hulsing found his ‘magical realism’ styled animation selected as the official Dutch entry in the Best Animated Short category for the 2005 Academy Awards. Seven years on from this success and the director is poised to release his latest slice of dark animation on an unsuspecting festival-going public, as Junkyard begins screening at gatherings worldwide. Hisko was gracious enough to treat us to an enviable preview of his latest production in its 18-minute entirety, before the expected festival buzz begins to build.

A man is being robbed and stabbed by a junkie and in that last second before he dies, a youth friendship flashes before his eyes. He and his bosomfriend grew apart, when the latter was being drawn more and more into a misty world of drugs and criminality under influence of a lowlife dealer who lives with his father on the junkyard in their neighbourhood.

Produced by Il Luster (Wad & Little Quentin) and created using 2d & 3d animation techniques layered over oil-painted backgrounds (120 oil-paintings were created for Junkyard and varied in size from 100cm – 220cm wide), Junkyard is an intoxicating blend of striking artwork and intelligently crafted storytelling. Hulsing takes up his usual roles as writer, director, animator and composer (he also composed and arranged the score on Seventeen) on this latest production and his fastidious attention to detail in all aspects of filmmaking is once again evident.

However, this wasn’t a production without its hardships with the director openly admitting to the frustrations he felt in making “an 18 minute animation in this laborious style”.

“We had to make 25000 drawings, color them and then frame by frame paint the shadows over it. It took us 6 and a half years. It was really a hell of a job that I wouldn’t recommend to anyone. Parts of it are fun, like painting the backgrounds, other parts are really boring and difficult at the same time”.

Whilst the visuals created by Hulsing and his small team of 2d & 3d animators (Polder Animation add an extra dimension to Junkyard by creating three dimensional projections of inanimate objects painted by Hulsing) are bound to be the main talking point on an initial viewing of the film, this certainly isn’t a short that is lacking in drama or plot. Junkyard’s story unwinds in a confident non-linear fashion, inspired by its creator’s passion for live-action filmmaking – Hulsing is obviously a filmmaker who is all to aware that there’s little point in putting that much effort into a film’s look if the story has no hook.

“The inspiration (for Junkyard’s story) comes directly from my own youth. I had a lot of friends that seemed doomed to get on the wrong track. I don’t want to spread a message that for some it is inevitable to become a criminal or drug-addict, but judging from my own experiences I seemed more lucky than others, when it comes to environment and upbringing”.

It’s clear that Junkyard is a very personal film for its creator and although “not entirely autobiographical”, Hulsing mixes his own memories of encounters with drugs and crime in his youth with the experience of “being an outsider looking at lives going the wrong way” to create a fascinating narrative. However, brushes with the darker-side of life will not have been evident in everyone’s upbringing and in creating his narrative Hulsing recognised that his film would need more to hook his audience and relate to all his viewers. On the surface this may look like a film about bad decisions, but the director utilises notions of exclusion and rejection as themes that “are recognisable for everyone”.

Junkyard has already had its festival premiere at the Annecy International Animation Film Festival in June of this year and should travel the globe touring the circuit for the foreseeable future, before “theatrical distribution hopefully follows, as well as television sales” – but what next for its talented creator?

“I’m not sure yet. I would like to make a feature animation film, because it gives me more possibilities to make an intelligent film with depth. I’m fascinated by religion, I really don’t understand how religious well-educated people can combine their religious beliefs with the scientific knowledge they are exposed to. On the other hand I see a lot of religious habits and thoughtpatterns with non-believers and secular societies and organisations too. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I think that I would like to make science fiction film about it. An anti-religious science-fiction film. I realise that it doesn’t sound like the best pitch ever, with 90 % of the worlds population believing in a personal God”.

Sounds like a pretty good pitch to us Hisko and I’m sure there would be many more that would agree. And if you’re looking for someone to voice some kind of crazed anti-christ, the DN team will be more than happy to lend its vocal talents.

Independent film has more substance, more integrity, and more creativity than mainstream cinema right? One has to only compare a big blockbuster tentpole movie like Steven Spielberg’s Jaws, with a beautiful, low key and creative exploration of the human psyche such as Maya Deren’s Meshes of the Afternoon. The difference is obvious.

You may agree with these sentiments or perhaps you’re raging at the screen at my ignorance and elitism? It’s one of those debates that resurfaces endlessly in film schools and between independent filmmakers and the general public. The argument creates a polarity that is neither helpful nor constructive. In truth Maya Deren’s masterpiece is a favourite film of mine, but then again, so is Jaws.

Worthiness, purity, truth, these are the terms I hear touted all the time in reference to independent film. When people talk disparagingly of mainstream cinema it is usually followed by terms such as shallow or contrived. The list goes on. When these arguments are levelled at specific films they may be true. If you want to make an expression of personal preference, that’s fine. But comments that assume a hierarchy of worth about an entire section of cinema over another are at best elitist, and at worst vacuous. What’s worse, many of us (including me) buy into them at times.

Let’s play devil’s advocate for a moment and explore what makes independent film so great and mainstream cinema so awful? Independent filmmakers often pride themselves on overcoming constraints, and rightly so. Sometimes financial, sometimes in terms of exhibition, distribution or marketing, the fact is that some astounding creativity is occasionally born out of restrictions. Look at Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead ‘Shaky Cam’ and ‘Blank-O-Cam’, or Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez’s low-fi but brilliant viral campaign for The Blair Witch Project. Independent films also have less pressure to succeed financially, therefore they can afford to explore edgy territory that a studio might not touch. A pure expression rather than a sanitised story without any edge.

What about the flip side of this coin? Mainstream filmmakers have the financial backing and support of the studios. They have access to a large audience and the means by which to build awareness through marketing and promo spots, billboard space, and high-end viral campaigns. Because of this they have to ensure a major financial return to justify the spend. This seems pretty reasonable. The people investing in films are businessmen. It would be odd if they repeatedly invested hundreds of millions of dollars in films purely for the love of art. It would be great, but it would be bizarre and isn’t going to happen. Because of this financial return and the desire to replicate successful films, bad decisions are often made. Studios frequently play it safe, and directors regularly complain that their vision was compromised for the sake of box ticking. It’s true, a lot of mainstream films are awful and motivated by money rather than the desire to tell a good story. So perhaps I’m wrong and the division of quality is clear? Not quite.

There is a third and less travelled road within this debate. Bad independent films and brilliant mainstream movies. They are both pretty regular. In fact given the sheer volume of independent films being made, it’s highly probable that the number of bad indie films being made far outstrips the number of bad mainstream movies. We just get bombarded a lot more with advertising for the awful mainstream movies and are therefore constantly reminded of their existence.

Let’s take Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight as an example of what I would consider to be a good mainstream film. It’s about as big as mainstream movies get. Big budget, huge advertising campaign, stars, and massive box office. I know plenty of people (friends and family) that would never watch The Dark Knight on principle, because they feel superhero movies are all awful: ‘They’re silly, childish, unrealistic, absurdly fantastical, and shallow’. Then why are they popular? Do the general public always have no taste? Seems a bit far fetched. The Dark Knight appeals to people for many of the same reasons that a film like George Lucas’ Star Wars does. Both films, and others in their class, explore what has become known as ‘the hero’s journey’.

These universal, larger than life tales are also the kind of fantastical spectacle that mainstream cinema, at its best, does like no other form. They’re fun too. This doesn’t mean all superhero movies are good. If I were to say to someone ‘Green Lantern is awful, but The Dark Knight is a classic. Spiderman 3 is silly but Spiderman 2 is brilliant, they might look at me with confusion and exclaim, ‘but they’re all the same!’ No. This is the point. Their worth is not embedded in their genres or the area of the film market they occupy, it’s in their execution. It’s in the intelligence of the writing and the care of the direction, the quality of the acting and the themes they explore. The construction of the world and the consistency of the characterisation.

You don’t like these type of films? That’s fine, perfectly reasonable. But if you’re going to judge a film do it on its individual merit (or lack of) and if you haven’t seen it then just say that. A frankly idiotic response is, ‘well it’s a such and such film so it’s obviously going to be bad.’ This also goes for sci fi and action/adventure, two other genres that come under considerable fire. As with any films, independent included, if they’re to be judged then it should be on a case by case basis.

Independent films can’t compete with mainstream movies in terms of scale, but that’s not their function. They occupy a different area of the market. They are perfect for exploring more uncomfortable themes and ideas head on. They can afford to be aimed at niche audiences. They can be brilliantly and unashamedly intellectual. They can also be awful and pretentious. The same confusion that arises when explaining to an indie film lover that some superhero movies are good, seems to arise when I talk to a mainstream film lover and say something along the lines of, ‘Alain Resnais’ Last Year at Marienbad is genius, but Andy Warhol’s Empire is pretentious’. Or, ‘Gus Van Sant’s Elephant is a masterpiece, but his film Gerry is utter twaddle’. ‘But they’re all the same pretentious nonsense aren’t they?’ It’s a common response. Nope, they’re not.

Films are tough to make, and even harder to get seen. Everyone has varying tastes and likes/hates particular categories, that’s completely natural. But don’t confuse personal taste with objective worth. It does a disservice to cinema when people pit entire sections of the landscape against one another for no good reason other than elitism and personal bias. It’s too stereotypical and ridiculous to damn an entire area of cinema on the basis that if you’ve seen one so you’ve seen them all. I’m reminded of the amusing criticism levelled at Martin Scorsese’s Last Temptation of Christ before its release, by Catholics who were offended by the very nature of the subject matter. When protesters were pressed as to whether they’d actually seen the film they were demonstrating about, several apparently responded that they didn’t have to watch the film to know how blasphemous it was. Surely they did? What were their arguments based on? Assumptions, nothing more.

So what am I suggesting? That we ignore questions of genre worthiness and the love/hate relationship that inevitably exists between mainstream and independent film. That instead, we focus on what really counts; being open minded, critical, and judging films on their individual merits, regardless of where they fall in the overall landscape of cinema. Now go watch a Christopher Nolan/Aki Kaurismäki double bill.

In the run up to the last piece, my editor Murat Kebir and I had been working on a new version of the film, focusing on each ‘day’ within the film (the film takes place over seven days), rather than dealing with the film as a whole. Once we’d finished this process, we reassembled the film and watched it through, along with our producer Tom Stuart, for the first time in its new version. Murat loved it and Tom was very happy. At that stage I felt too close to the material to be objective, but I had some concerns about a couple of sequences. While editing this version, Murat had restructured the film very slightly, deleting a scene and moving another one from earlier in the film into its place. For me this change meant that the story arc of two of the characters no longer made sense, but for Murat they were now much clearer, so I agreed to sit with the change for a while longer (though we did eventually change it back – it’s probably not a coincidence that the words ‘director’ and ‘dictator’ share so many letters…).

Now that we were back to working on the film as a whole, we were able to see that the approach Murat had taken to the material was working well. I spent some time going through the new version in depth, making detailed notes on a scene-by-scene basis. It was generally fairly minor stuff, though I felt we had two especially problematic areas that still needed to be fixed. With hindsight, one of these problems was down to me still being too stuck to the abstract ideas I had concocted while doing the paper edit for the film (see my Life Just Is: Taking the Plunge article for more info on the paper edit). When Murat was finally able to pull me out of those ideas, we began to find something within the material itself which worked. The other problematic area was a classic case of something working well on the page, but not on the screen; it was only by taking a step back from the script and ‘rewriting’ the sequence in the edit that we were able to solve it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. While still going through the film and making notes, I had a meeting with our sound recordist and audio-postproduction designer/mixer, Jason Creasey. I wanted to make sure that our editing choices weren’t going to cause any unnecessary problems during the sound mix. Luckily, there was nothing too worrying. However, had Jason told me that, for instance, a certain shot would have required ADR, I would have seriously considered using an alternative take.

It was also around this time that I met up with our music supervisor, James McWilliam, to discuss the music in the film. I’d decided fairly early on that I didn’t want a score in the film and that all the music would be diegetic – so we needed to find bands who were willing to let us feature their tracks. I’d worked hard even during the initial cuts of the film to choose appropriate temp tracks (some of which worked so well that they made it into the film), but there was still a lot of work to be done and Jim needed time to get it right (and get the rights). From this point on, Jim would send me tracks to listen to and if I liked them I would try them in the film. There were one or two scenes which were especially tricky to find songs for, but generally it was a relatively smooth process. Securing the rights proved a little more difficult. There was one song that fitted perfectly. When we approached the rights holders they said yes. But when we sent them the contractual agreement they went silent on us. Much to our frustration, we were eventually forced to choose another song. Luckily, Jim was able to find something which worked equally well.

Meanwhile, Murat and I were continuing to work through our notes on the latest version. We arranged to do a test screening, and that gave us a clear deadline of when the next edit needed to be finished by. As well as working on the picture cut, I started working on the track-laying, going through every piece of off-screen dialogue in the film and making sure that we were using the best possible take (from a performance point of view – I decided I’d let Jason worry about the technical side of things later on…). It wasn’t an easy task, partly because the version of Final Cut Pro I was using would literally crash and throw me out of the program every five minutes, but also because the new takes would have to fit within a predetermined length of time; sometimes great takes simply wouldn’t work because their timing didn’t fit with the visuals – though there was one actor in particular who managed to be almost identical with his timing in every take, even if the emotional punch was wildly different.

In the run up to the test screening, we decided to show the film to a few members of the crew. It was almost like a test screening for the test screening, and it gave us some feedback which enabled us to tweak the film further before the test screening proper occurred (if I remember correctly, our 1^st A.D. Alice Caronna saw the film at this screening, and suggested an idea which lead to the ‘rewriting’ of the aforementioned problem area). The actual test screening was a small, private event. We hired a room at the London Film Academy, and invited along a select group of contacts. At the end of the screening, we handed out questionnaires.

The response was, to be honest, mixed – but overall it certainly leaned towards positive, and it gave us a good indication of the areas that we needed to work on further. It raised one or two questions, such as whether the pace of the film was right, which led to a lot of soul searching about what the film was and, more to the point, what we wanted it to be. Off the back of this feedback, Murat and I started experimenting with different pacing and approaches to some of the scenes. More often than not, though, these experiments were a total failure – but both Murat and I appreciated the opportunity to explore the material in this way. It made us firmer in our convictions, and it meant that, when the time came for us to lock the edit, we really did feel like we had tried everything that we wanted to try (obviously we could have continued for longer – forever! – if we hadn’t decided enough was enough, but it meant that we were able to step away from the edit without having a niggling feeling that we ‘really should have just tried this…’).

Once the edit was locked, we near-enough simultaneously got the film ready for the sound mix and the grade. The transfer to Jason’s system was totally smooth – Murat simply exported an OMF file from FCP, and gave it to Jason along with a Quicktime copy of the film. Getting the film into the grading suit, however, proved slightly trickier.

At the behest of our grader and co-producer, Pat Wintersgill, Murat exported the film as an uncompressed tiff sequence. When Pat loaded it onto his system, though, he immediately noticed that we were experiencing a problem with our black levels, which were being crushed. We attempted to get around it by conforming the original H.264 rushes, but this wasn’t possible due to some timecode issues. In the end Murat and Pat put their heads together and came up with a solution involving a slight offset of the black levels upon export from FCP. Once this was sorted, the grading ended up being a relatively smooth process, slightly hampered only by having to fit around Pat’s full-time work schedule, and the fact that our cinematographer, Yosuke Kato, was now living back in Japan.

After an initial conversation where Pat and I went through the film together scene-by-scene, Pat then worked on his own to complete the first pass of the grade. This version of the film was subsequently compressed and emailed over to Yosuke for feedback. I then met with Pat to discuss Yosuke’s comments, along with my own thoughts. After a couple more passes were done in this way, we played the film on a big screen in one of the grading suites at Technicolor, where Pat was then working. It was well worth doing, as we did pick up on several things which we hadn’t noticed when grading on the (admittedly sizable) HD screens in the smaller suites. We therefore did a few further grading sessions, during which I no doubt drove Pat crazy with my endless scrutiny and obsessional tweaking.

Meanwhile, Jason was starting to make headway with the first pass of the sound mix, though the process had become a little more drawn out than we had hoped, due to Jason’s other commitments. Much like with the grade, the first pass was done alone (by Jason), based on a long conversation he’d had with me in which we went through the film scene-by-scene. In a way, a lot of the work done during this first pass was technical. For instance, in scenes that had been covered with both a boom and radio mics, Jason went through and chose the better recording for any given moment. He spent a long time working on this first pass and editing the dialogue. He sent it to me bit by bit, and I would send him initial feedback (which he often acted on instantly), while also compiling a much longer list to discuss with him once he was finished. I went through Jason’s work with a lot of care and detail, always listening to it on at least three different systems. By the time he was finished, I had a very long list of notes! As long as my list was, though, Jason and I were able to plough through it relatively quickly (at this stage, I began working much more closely with Jason, attending the sound sessions and discussing the film with him as he worked, much like I had done with Murat during the edit). Pretty much every point on my list was creative: Jason’s technical work was already superb (though that’s not to say his creative work wasn’t superb too!). In the edit Murat and I had based most of our decisions around one simple question: how can we best render the inner lives of the characters on screen? I wanted to carry this approach over to the sound design, and it was this that Jason and I really fine-tuned during the second pass.

As with the edit and the grade, we decided to play the film out in a theatre environment before locking the sound mix. I was able to secure a screening room at UAL through my work at Student Film Festival London, and Tom, Jason, Murat, Jim and I watched through the film on the big screen, focusing intensely on the sound design. From there, Jason and I went on to do some final tweaks before signing off the sound mix.

I have to say, by this time I had seen the film so many times – into triple figures? – that I was starting to struggle to keep up my concentration when going through the film. It becomes hard to separate yourself from the material and have any kind of objective viewpoint on the film. But somehow I muddled through.

During the grading and sound mix, Murat was still hard at work on the film, even though his role as editor had long since been completed. Legend that he is, Murat had offered to help us with our VFX work. (VFX work? In a character piece? Most of it is invisible; things like painting out the reflection of a certain idiotic director in the living room window.) Murat is something of a VFX whizz, and did a fantastic job for us. I should, however, also give a shout out to Ross Birkbeck and Pat, who did great work on some additional VFX for us.

With the sound, edit and VFXs complete, all that remained was for Pat to reassemble the film – thankfully a rather painless process. Meanwhile, Tom and I set about organising our cast and crew screening at BAFTA – which ended up being surprisingly painful! Sending the invites and managing the RSVP lists turned into something of a mammoth task, but the night itself went off without a hitch, and the response to the film was phenomenal (you can read what some critics thought here).

So, with the film complete we are now, finally, at the stage of submitting the film to festivals and approaching distributors. Hopefully this won’t be the last you’ll hear of us. (Fingers crossed).

The Benefits of Being a Writer/Director on Your First Feature Film

It was day 14 of our 16 day shoot of Love Magical, a wild and crazy romantic comedy. Our script was 105 pages, we were averaging seven pages a day with very little room for error. On day 14, we arrived at our location, a townhouse in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, where we were getting ready to shoot a pivotal love scene with our two main characters. The script called for two locations in the townhouse, the living room and the basement, which allowed for the development of their relationship. However, upon arriving at the location we learned that the basement was unusable – without getting into too many details, there was something about a sick cat and an overflowing septic tank – needless to say, we were in trouble. Especially since four out of the nine pages we were scheduled to shoot that day were in the basement. So, not only did we lose the location, but the way the script was written the other scenes wouldn’t make sense.

We were shortly to be inundated by the entire crew, actors, and production team and a decision had to be made. I quickly got together with Jason Sokoloff, my producer/Co-director, and Nick Fleming, my associate producer and writing partner, and we determined there was no other choice but to shoot out the living room and move forward. This was the end of the shoot and everyone was exhausted from working 20 hours a day for fourteen straight days. We were all working many other positions as well, which is not unusual on your first independent film to also be heading the wardrobe department, the art department, and just about everything else, but at the end of day 14 we knew what we needed most was a quick rewrite. Day 15 was already full and, if we were going to make up for the loss, a midnight writing session was paramount.

Thankfully during the day, my writing partner had been able to make revisions necessary for us to only lose one of our basement scenes and have their relationship still make sense, but we were still looking at a rather large problem to solve. So, after finishing the day 14 shoot late in the evening, Nick and I sat down to look over the next day, where we would be shooting, and what possibilities existed that would afford us a chance to make up the scene. We focused on the dialog and the action of the scene making sure the most important beats remained. No one knew the story better than us, so who better to solve the problem. Failure wasn’t an option and we felt that when you’re faced with a problem, it’s better not to look at it as a problem. Instead, we took it as an opportunity to be creative, enhance our story, and to keep pushing forward, no matter what. With Jason’s help, we looked at the other locations where this scene could take place and how that could enhance the scene. We decided that we would take two different scenes and combine them into one, which would actually make the action of the scene more focused and provide an overall better scene.

From scouting the area around where we were shooting the other scenes on day 15, we knew that there was a really cool, dark alley that would give us an even more interesting visual. The loss of the basement had forced us to improve the story, the characters’ motivations, and to make sure their actions were specific to each other and their arc. Ultimately, it wasn’t about the location, it was about the story and we had to be truthful to it. A lot of changes arise when you’re making an independent film but your goal should always be to tell the story you want to tell.

This was just one of the instances that occurred while filming. Having my writing partner on set meant that we we’re constantly re-writing and making changes based on everything from lost locations, changes in the weather, and adjusting dialog to better fit situations all the way to the end in order to make sure the film was the best it could be. I’ll share with you quickly something from earlier in our shoot. We had written a role for Keith Sweat in our film and were lucky enough to get the chance to work with him, but didn’t get to meet him in person until the day we were scheduled to shoot his scenes. When we finally met him, we realized that he had an innate style that wasn’t reflected in the dialog and as a result it didn’t ring true. Nick and I were able to accommodate his style and forward the story at the same time.

So much goes into making an independent film and you’ll be pulled in many different directions. The production itself has a mind of its own and half the time you’re just trying to keep up with it. The benefits of being a writer/director on your film is that you can take charge. As I said before, no one knows the story more than you. You wrote it, it came from your mind, the characters, the world it inhabits, and that gives you the edge. Yes, problems will come, but, as long as you never lose the truth of the story, you’ll make it work. In the end, the story is king. As long as you serve the story and make adjustments that enhance it, you’ll be fine.

You can see more information on Love Magical through the following links:
Kickstarter
Facebook
Twitter

Justin Foran, Writer/ Producer/Co-Director of Love Magical, along with Nick Fleming, Writer/Associate Producer, have recently completed a successful Kickstarter campaign, raising funds for the soundtrack of their film.

The folks over at Art of the Title have a great interview with Guilherme about the project, so jump on over there to read it and see the titles in violent action.

Here are a few things to bear in mind when you begin to look at your film’s music.

1. Find a Composer You Trust

I was going to write: “the number one important thing to give a composer is confidence.” But actually, it’s not. I say this because there are many composition projects on which I have experienced moments of blind terror and zero confidence, when everything sounds awful. These moments normally come just before I start producing good stuff.

So instead of confidence, give your composer your trust that they will deliver a great score. Meet the people or person that you decide to work with (ideally, sit down with a few composers). If it’s you and me, I like to sit with a director and talk until we connect. I like to feel confident that I understand your vision for the film (if I don’t feel confident, I know from experience that my first compositions are likely to miss the mark).

Am I asking you intelligent questions that make you feel like I’m getting to grips with your film’s narrative and how to support the story? If not, keep talking. If I’m still not asking them after 90 minutes of talking, try the next composer on your list. By the way, don’t worry too much about a composer’s style. Good film composers are super-adaptable. Danny Elfman’s famous for Edward Scissorhands but he also did Mission: Impossible; Rachel Portman’s The Manchurian Candidate is totally different to her Chocolat.

2. Brief Them in as Much Detail as Possible About What You Want the Music to do

Mike Figgis said: “the power of sound to put an audience in a certain psychological state is vastly undervalued. And the more you know about music and harmony, the more you can do with that.” (EGS) Broadly, your job is to tell us what psychological states you want to produce, and ours is to know enough about music and harmony to produce them.

At its best, a musical score amplifies and deepens what’s on screen, in service to the director’s vision. It allows the audience to laugh and cry in the right places, tells them when to worry about characters and when to feel secure. It can bring clarity to any on-screen moments we might be uncertain how to interpret. A great score gives us permission to feel involved; guides us into, through and out of the visuals. The more you know about what you’d like the music to do in your film, the more you’ll be able to communicate that to us, and to judge whether we’re achieving it.

Be as specific as you like about minutiae – in our experience, more information is better than less. Don’t worry about talking in musical terms – use your normal ways of expression. “I want it to sound like the sky is bleeding because she has lost him to gambling” is just as useful as “I thought perhaps an andante waltz with the flute playing the part of Bob”. Be honest and voluble and get everything out there if that’s you; play temp tracks, don’t play temp tracks, whatever. “I want it to sound green and have a hoover in there, otherwise it’s up to you” doesn’t give us much to go on, mind, but perhaps you are a taciturn sort and that’s that.

Yair Oppenheim’s The Functions of Film Music article might help you think about what to include in your brief.

3. Understand a Bit About the Process Your Composer Will Need to go Through

Give your composer a brief, idea, script or cut, and from that point on her brain will be working on the creative. If you understand the stages of work she’s executing, you can probably really help her to make some great music. If she’s anything like us (I work with Alexandra Benedict – we’re a composing partnership), she’ll be answering questions in this order:

a) What Sounds are Right for This Film?
Your film’s unique, right? So, she’ll want to assemble a unique and appropriate blend of sounds to play your score. Sometimes this will include special adaptations to instruments, like playing an organ through an effects pedal, or using samplers or synths to create new sounds where she can’t find exactly what’s needed.

When she’s got the right instruments and sounds together, that’s her ‘sonic palette.’ (By the way, she won’t want to tread on your sound designer’s toes. When I say ‘sounds’ here, I’m talking wholly in the context of the musical score.) Some examples of sonic palettes from our experience:

- fat bass and breakbeats (drug drama)
- large orchestra, rock drums & bass, effected theremin and glitch noises (horror film)
- dumbek, tongue drum, qanun, duduk and jazz piano (comedy drama about culture clash)
- harp, strings, accordion and processed fragments of sea and voice (documentary about a painter’s seaside work).

b) How do the Characters Sound?
This is going to sound highfalutin – sorry about that – but here she’ll be looking to express the truth of each main character, by i) composing a signature phrase or melody; ii) playing it on an instrument that’s right for them.

c) How Does Each Scene Sound?
This is the grunt work of composition. She’ll mock up each cue that’s required, most often to a Quicktime of the final cut; sometimes to script or rough cut or (if she’s on board really early) to ideas. What’s a mockup? A mockup has no session players on it – it’s a demo good enough to show you the idea of a piece of music.

A film composer with a reasonable studio should be able to produce mockups that sound pretty cool. Often mockups are actually good enough to be used on the film, especially when the budget is tight. Here are some screen mixes that are mockups with no live players at all:

- Sleeping Lions Original Soundtrack
- Mama
- TV Cookery School Building

Here are some where the mockups have been augmented with one or several live parts:

- Eden Burning Main Titiles
- Peckish
- Ongoing Funky Runner Dies

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A Word About Time
How fast will she be able to create music? Probably around 90 seconds per day (we got that figure from a Danny Elfman interview).

People will work quicker and slower – Murray Gold scores a 45-minute episode of Doctor Who in a ridiculously short time, sometimes a week. It also depends on the complexity of the palette. On the one hand we’ve been known to take two weeks to score a 60-second commercial, and on the other we’ve churned out seven minutes of TV beds in a day.

If you can give your composer three months to score your feature, she will most likely kiss you. However, if you have two weeks, she will (probably) still want the job – be in no doubt that it’ll be compromised accordingly, but hopefully there’ll still be some gems in there.
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d) How am I Going to Make the Whole Thing Sound as Impressive as Possible?
This might mean anything, from polishing the mockups so they sound the best they can be, to getting scores printed up and going into the studio with real players. Live players will make your score totally unique. If you can’t afford live players for everything, try to budget for one or two soloists to play the most important parts.

If you are going to have some live players then BRILLIANT! Be aware that your composer will have lots of work to do behind the scenes, from preparing scores to booking musicians, studio and engineer, then mixing the recordings so they sound their best. She may employ specialists to do some or all of these things. Once she delivers your final score, bada bing – job done. It’s over to you to take it to your dubbing mixer, who’ll mix it against the dialogue, foley and any sound design.

That’s pretty much the process for us – your mileage may vary. An experienced composer will be able to talk you through their process and how much time they want or need. Don’t worry if you have left music late – most people do, and you can always build it in earlier on your next one. However, DO worry if there’s no budget left for it, because composers have overheads! Time, studio, computers, hard drives, very good speakers, instruments (real and software, from cheap to very expensive), strange audio boxes with knobs on, websites, marketing…

4. Grow your Relationship in Any Way That Feels Right

There’s no right or wrong way to work with a composer – just take whatever looks like the next step. Composers have fragile egos just like any other creatives, BUT good film composers are usually more than happy to improve or renew their cues in response to criticism. They understand that film is a collaborative process and that the director (or producer… or studio executive) has the final say. Keep talking!

5. Treat Early Draft Cues Like Rough Cuts

They can sound shocking, but still contain gems. When you receive a cue that makes you think “has she gone mad? Have I gone mad?” remember it’s a process and you’re the client (unless you are not paying her well enough in which case you might have a bit less leeway).

(By the way, the answer is probably “yes, she has gone mad” and once she has slept on it she will hopefully come round to your way of thinking of her own accord.)

6. Listen Through Your Audience’s Ears – is the Message Truly Carried?

Review the cues as they come – our experience is that the earlier we start getting feedback, the better. If your composer’s doing a good job, it might start to feel like the visuals are improving. Sometimes you might even be surprised that she’s found even more humour or even more tension than you hoped for.

Remember the brief you laid out in point 2? That’s your yardstick. When you can watch the film and feel the right psychological states being produced, you’re on to a winner.

7. It’s Your Vision, You’ll Know When Things are Right

Filmmaking is a thrilling and complex art form. You’re steering the whole massive unwieldy thing through its long journey and you’ll know when the music starts to work. Stick with your instincts (they have probably got you pretty far already) and keep raising issues until you’re satisfied they’ve been addressed.

In your gut you’ll know what to do – keep working with composer/s until you get there.

GOOD LUCK.

Aside from our usual level of curiosity as to which directors we should run to ground for future DN interviews, this 14th edition of the list is a cause for us to celebrate as it includes our nearest and dearest film friends Andrew S Allen & Jason Sondhi of the ever so excellent (and oft mentioned) Short of the Week. Wow and massive congratulations guys! Filmmaker Magazine picked Andrew and Jason up for their ceaseless work promoting the short form over at SotW and of course the visually stunning, cryptographic short The Thomas Beale Cipher, which Andrew joined us to chat about.

Also amongst the list are a few folks we’re very happy to see make the cut such as; Brent Hoff, who explained to us what the hell a Wholphin is, the 3-headed directing machine Everynone who we’ve been stalking from afar through their Radiolab collaborative shorts Words, Moments, Re:WORDS & Symmetry, and Sophia Takal who discussed jealousy with us after our creepy time in the woods with her feature Green.

Those may be our favourites but to discover whose films you’re going to be desperate to see in the near future, take a read through the full 25 after the jump.

A couple of personal conversations with James Mullighan reassured me that the festival I knew and loved would still be there come June, but judging by the reaction in the Twitterverse it seems that not everyone was convinced. The announcement of the official programme in May appears to have done little to change people’s perceptions – response has been muted to say the least, and in all honesty it’s not hard to see why.

But, it has to be said, low expectations are, more-often-than-not, the mother of great surprises. I’m confident the programme is full of gems waiting to be discovered and I’ll be there, doing my best to uncover them all for DN. Going through the programme there are already a few things I’m excited about checking out (for instance, Mourning for Anna, Albatross, Quality Control and The Bang Bang Club all sound good to me), and that’s to say nothing of what is, in my opinion, EIFF’s biggest coup this year: the presence of the Hungarian maestro Béla Tarr.

I first discovered Tarr when he was over in the UK for EIFF 2007, seeing him talk after a screening of Werckmeister Harmonies in London and then seeing The Man From London at the festival a few days later. Since then he has grown in my mind to become the greatest living filmmaker. Reports out of Berlin suggest that his new film, The Turin Horse, is nothing short of a masterpiece (as if there was ever any doubt after the trailer was released) and, in addition to premiering the film, EIFF will also be screening three films guest-curated by Tarr: American Torso, Passion and The Round-Up. Tarr will be in attendance at the festival, and on Saturday 18th I’ll be doing a triple bill of American Torso, Passion and The Turin Horse. For this day alone I am more excited about my Edinburgh trip than words can possibly describe, and the sense of trepidation I feel starts to radically diminish… So let’s just hope that these high expectations don’t turn out to be the mother of all disappointments!

Essential Killing – MarBelle’s review of Jerzy Skolimowski’s “brave piece of cinema” was full of glowing praise for some challenging filmmaking and rightly so. Vincent Gallo excels in what is surely going to be a contender for the best film of 2011.

Shelter in Place – Not only a good review for an interesting “poetry and petro-chemical” documentary, but also the post that saw our longtime friend Matt Strachan join team DN. Glad to have Matt with us!

TV on the Radio: Nine types of Light – One of my favorite bands, TV On the Radio have killed it not only with the album, but this film! This pick also has to be dedicated to their bassist, Gerard Smith who died last week of lung cancer. RIP.

DN199: Meet Monica Velour – Keith Bearden – Keith (very graciously) credits his The Raftman’s Razor DN interview with getting Kim Cattrall interested in meeting him for the lead in his debut feature Meet Monica Velour. Whether that’s the case or not, we’re mighty pleased to see Keith reach the next level in his career but still have time for us.

Rubber – What a concept, another thing DN has educated me with. Already In my amazon basket, ready for the loan day purchase.

Even before we’d shot the film, we’d put quite a lot of thought into our postproduction process, and, although in honesty it was fairly rough, we did have a postproduction schedule that we wanted to stick to. This schedule was partly dictated by the fact that our producer, Tom Stuart, was due to be out of the UK for over a month from early January, and I really wanted him to see a cut before he left. Although some directors like to take their time on the first cut, this isn’t how I work. I was desperate to get a complete cut of the film as quickly as possible: not because I’m impatient, but because until I’d seen the whole film I felt like I couldn’t really make any informed decisions. I needed to see if the story was coming through, if the structure was working, if the performances were consistent: editing consists of a careful weaving of elements and I wanted to have a proper sense of the bigger picture, the overall pattern, before getting bogged down on each individual thread. I also wanted to make sure that we had everything we needed and that we weren’t going to have to do reshoots or pickups (because if we did, I wanted to do them as soon as possible, before the rest of my team got busy with new projects and forgot about their work on Life Just Is). As Tom and I had worked closely on the development of the script, it made sense to me that he should be a part of this process, and that we therefore needed him to see a rough cut before he left.

As Murat was still busy with his organising, he suggested that I do a paper edit of the film. To me, this made perfect sense. One of the things that I’m aiming to achieve with Life Just Is is a synthesis of form and content, and this means that there is a lot of thought behind the coverage for each scene. As a director who has a fair amount of experience in editing, I always think well in advance about the way the scenes will cut together (and I’d also involved Murat in the storyboarding process), and with this film I really wanted every cut to be motivated by – for want of a better expression – character psychology (this is also the way my cinematographer Yosuke Kato and I had decided upon most of our angles). Working on the paper edit allowed me, for better or worse, to stay in the realm of these somewhat abstract ideas and create the film around them. Had we gone straight into cutting footage, I honestly think that many of them would have got lost or fallen by the wayside as we got distracted by the material plasticity of the footage itself. Yet by creating the first edit on paper, I was able to use my notes and my familiarity with the rushes and turn them into a complete cut while still keeping my initial ideas in clear sight. The paper edit also allowed us to move extremely quickly once Murat had finished his organisation: the actual editing of the rough cut took only three and a half days.

Of course, this slightly cerebral way of working wasn’t without its drawbacks: the ideas might have been there, but at times the feeling wasn’t. There had, in a way, been no proper exploration of the material, and, as Murat and I worked on the rough cut, it was clear that some of the edits worked far better on paper than on the Final Cut Pro timeline. But even during those initial three and half days we were able to begin finding the right weave for our threads and, even better, at the end of them we knew that we had a film that worked. The story, the structure and the performances were all there. Yes, there was (massive) room for improvement, but we knew we had what we needed, and we’d found it out in time for Tom to give us his feedback before he went away.

Using Tom’s comments, Murat’s thoughts and my own feelings, we then spent several weeks working on a new cut. Although this was officially the first proper cut of the film, in reality it was much more like a polished rough cut. Part of the reason for this came down to schedule. In February Murat had a job which would take him off our film (in body, not spirit!) for three weeks, and we wanted the new cut to be finished before then so we could use that time productively by holding our first test screening. This was definitely a good decision. In the weeks spent polishing the rough cut Murat and I began to explore the material and get more of a sense of what was and wasn’t working, while at the same time not walking before we could run: it was all part of getting to know the material and discovering the exact nature of the film that we were making.

Prior to the screening, I wrote up a long questionnaire for our test audience to fill out after watching the film. The aim of the screening was really to find out what worked and what didn’t, what was coming across and what wasn’t: obviously Tom, Murat and I could follow the story and the various character arcs in the film, but we knew them already! So we wanted to find out if other people could too. Ultimately, we ended up also doing a screening for a few select crew members, and although they didn’t come to the film as fresh as some of the people who attended the first screening, their feedback was also invaluable in helping to determine exactly what areas of the film were not yet working in the way they needed to.

After the screenings, I spent about a week processing the feedback we’d been given, looking over the film again myself, and making nine solid pages of notes and suggested changes. Independently of all this, Murat had also been through the film again and made his own list of suggested changes. When we met again for the first time after the break, we spent a whole day talking through the film and discussing exactly what changes we wanted to make. The new list that we drew up was not just about trying to fix problems (as it happens, there weren’t too many), but equally about exploration: now was the time for us to really start pulling things apart and exploring our options – while also doing our best to hold on to all the ideas which I had laid down in the paper edit.

Murat refers to this period of the editing process as our ‘fine cut’. When compared to the three and half day rough cut and the three-week rough cut polish, the fine cut is a long process. The film itself takes place over seven days and, when working on the different cuts, we have always started by working on each individual story day before assembling the film and continuing from there. At the time of writing, we are into our sixth week of working on the ‘fine cut’, and we are currently timetabled to spend at least another week on it before we even assemble it back together and start working once more on the film as a whole. One of the hardest things for me during this period has been to retain my vision for the overall film when working in such a detailed way on each individual scene/story day. In the six weeks of working on the ‘fine cut’, I have only once seen the film all the way through, and that was the polished rough cut. In a sense, Murat and I are working on faith at the moment: faith that it will all fit back together as planned! But I’m confident that it will. In working on this new cut, Murat has found an approach to the material (call it a style, if you will), and by keeping this consistent across the scenes I know that the individual pieces will slot back together. Furthermore, our intentions for this new cut were so thought through and planned before we started it that I believe we have been able to maintain a clarity of vision for the overall weave – a clarity which we would not have had if we hadn’t completed the rough cut before undertaking such an extensive exploration of the material.

Working on this fine cut has been a great learning experience in terms of working methodology. As I had such a strong hand in shaping the original rough cut (it was based on a paper edit which I did alone), it was agreed that now was the time for me to give Murat more space to explore things on his own. Although there have been some scenes which I have taken away and looked at myself, typically the way we are working is as follows: we discuss a scene, Murat spends time alone working on it, then I look over the new cut, we discuss it again, and then refine it further based on my feedback. At first we would meet up to watch the new cuts and work on them straight away, but we quickly found that this wasn’t working. I was having to give feedback before I was ready, before I had had a chance to digest Murat’s suggestions and understand their implications. This meant, at times, that I was too quick to reject ideas or that I accepted them without thinking them through. Once we realised this, we struck on a much better way of working: Murat would recut the scenes and then email them to me (during the organisation stages of the postproduction period, Murat had configured the project in such a way that my laptop setup mirrored his desktop one, meaning that we were able to email Final Cut Pro project files back and forth and load them up in each other’s systems). This new way of working meant that I could look over the new scenes, sleep on them, look over them again and then make notes on suggested changes, or even try things out myself. It’s a much better way of doing it, as it means that I really have time to think through not only Murat’s ideas, but also my own.

One of the most interesting aspects, for me, of this whole process has been realising how short-lived the usefulness of my notes has been. When I made my 75 pages of notes on the rushes, I assumed that they would be definitive and that every time we wanted to change a take or look at our options we would go back to them for guidance. That hasn’t been the case at all. In fact, I’ve barely looked at them since we finished the rough cut, and haven’t touched them once since we started the fine cut. Why? Well, quite simply, things change. As the film comes together, a take that once seemed inappropriate is suddenly the magic ingredient you’ve been looking for, while a ‘perfect’ performance may suddenly have the wrong emotional quality for the moment you’ve created in the edit. Moreover, as well as things changing, you change and you realise that the judgements you made four months ago are not the judgements you would make now. All of this, I feel, is very healthy, but it also makes all those notes totally redundant. Still, they served a purpose at the time of writing them, and helped us get to where we are now…

And where will we go from here? Well, I guess in truth that depends on how the film works when we stop working on individual story days, put it all back together and polish it up. At the moment I feel it will take another pass, or maybe two, at working on the whole film before we’re done. But if the fine cut works as well I believe it will, I think the finish line will at least be in sight. But who knows? Perhaps our next round of test screenings will tell us otherwise. One thing’s for sure though: first we have to finish the fine cut!

I’d like to say a big thank you to Murat for checking over this article, and of course for all his hard work on the edit so far.

DN SXSW2011: Way of the Morris – Tim Plester – I remember seeing English Language with English Subtitles by Tim Plester at Filmstock a few years ago and I remember being blown away by his clever short. Since my first encounter with the talented actor/writer/directors work, I’ve spotted him in numerous adverts, as well as a great cameo in Kick-Ass. It’s great to see directors we’ve featured on the site flourish and with Tim Plester’s eclectic output he definitely looks like one to watch.

An Island – Watching An Island seems to have ruined Efterklang’s music for me forever! Moon managed to capture the spirit and playfulness of the band’s live performance on film so beautifully, the albums just feel flat and lifeless in comparison. Surely, that’s the sign of a great music documentary!

DN SXSW2011 – Sound It Out – Jeanie Finlay – I miss making documentaries, and the type of documentaries that focus on “small and personal stories” are ones I tend to enjoy more than most. Being a student producer I’m constantly looking for ways to raise money for my films and Jeanie and MarBelle’s discussion into crowd funding is so interesting to listen to, not only for people like me but all artists out there.

Cave of Forgotten Dreams – There’s something wrong if a filmmaker/lover doesn’t admire Werner Herzog. I’m yet to watch Cave of Forgotten Dreams but this review has made me even more excited.

DN SXSW2011: Attenberg – Athina Rachel Tsangari – When DN launched in ’06 it was with one simple (and selfish) intention; find films I love and get their directors to tell me how they made them. Along the way that intention has evolved into a desire to broaden and enrich the discussion around independent filmmaking. Spending 90 minutes talking film with Attenberg director Athina Rachel Tsangari felt like taking the next step in my film education. She questioned my assumptions and laid out new directions of thought for me to follow. I REALLY wish she was available to be my regular coffee shop film school tutor.

Not content with hitting us with one of the best animated shorts you’re likely to see all year, the guys at Short of the Week have now provided a detailed explanation of how they launched The Thomas Beale Cipher online. It’s a great insight for filmmakers who want to get their film noticed and shows the planning and preparation needed to successfully launch your work. I also hear it goes particularly well with an interview Andrew did for a certain [cough] site.

How We Launched Our Film Online: The Thomas Beale Cipher

Hi filmmakers. I’m a composer and sound designer and must say I’ve rarely met another group as passionate about their craft as you are. Personally, I’ve never been inspired in the least to make a film but sincerely admire those who do. Frankly, all I care about aside from family, friends, and the general state of the world, is sound. And, through the years not only have I loved sound and sound effects, but I’ve come to care about the quality of sound. So the quality of sound and most specifically the quality of sound effects libraries that many of you frequent to find audio for your films is a topic close to my heart.

So with that in mind, here are some quick tips to make your search for sound effects efficient and productive. Currently, there are dozens of online sound libraries that offer a huge selection of royalty free sound effects you can license cheap and download for use. So, how to you go about figuring out which library is best for your purposes? If you’re serious about your work, and I assume you are, and you want quality sound, as I assume you do, then look out for the following characteristics of a sound library: category structure, quality, and redundancy.

In terms of structure, you want a site that has at least 100 categories and sub-categories of sounds, not 10 or 12. Why? Because your time is valuable and if a site offers 20,000 “sound design” sound effects in a “sound design” category, then you are going to be sifting through hundreds of drones, impacts, hits, etc. when all you really want is a killer whoosh. There are potentially thousands of categories of sound effects and sites that lump them all together without regard for their users’ time are a waste of time. Personally, over at my sound effects and royalty free music site SFXsource.com, we have undergone the rather agonizing but ultimately satisfying process of assigning all 100,000 plus of our sounds into 645 separate sub-categories. This process has taken hundreds of hours, but results in a very efficient user experience. In other words, it’s quick and easy to get to the niche sound you’re seeking.

Quality is an obvious element to pay attention to, in terms of format and the site’s contributors. It is obviously better to go with a site that offers various formats such as 48k aiffs/wavs, 44.1 wavs, and high res mp3s over a site that only has mp3s. Mp3s, of course, are compressed files and their sonic quality is not fit for a film. That’s why ‘free sound effects’ sites often don’t work for serious filmmakers, because they generally only offer mp3s. Furthermore, look at the type of contributors. I’ve noticed over the last five years that larger sound libraries have split into two camps: professional and ‘user-generated’. The contributors to a professional sound effects library are working professional sound designers whose sfx have come as a result from their work on Hollywood films and major indie releases. They are skilled, trained, have pro equipment, and know how to capture and design excellent sound effects. In addition, libraries that host professional sound effects always vet the sounds for quality.

On the other hand, while ‘user-generated’ sites are fun, good for quick youtube films, and give sound designers starting out a chance to distribute their newly found craft, they are not a place for serious filmmakers. User-generated sites grow from creating a sort of social community for new sound designers and rely on huge amounts of un-vetted sounds to attract visitors. It’s sort of like a garage sale of audio. Anyone and everyone can create an account and upload whatever they like. Sites like these are fun and impressive in the amount of traffic they garner, but inefficient for a filmmaker looking for quality audio. In addition, they’re often not any cheaper than professional sites, i.e. $2-$5 per sound.

Finally, redundancy can be a problem with sound effects libraries. Do you really need to preview 897 thunder sounds to find the right one? As I mentioned before, quality sound libraries vet the product before making it available to the user so the time has already been invested on their end. No need to spend an entire hour looking for a good solid thunder clap because the products made available are all good. In other words, beware of sites that are overstuffed with hundreds of instances of a single type of sound.

There are many great sound libraries out there, and in fact the business is rather incestuous so you’ll find many of the same sounds on different sites. The choice then comes down to each library’s sound organization, format offerings and selection.

Somewhere – FINALLY! (A review I agree with). I saw Somewhere at the end of last year, I loved it! And I think we all know the frustration in liking a film that so many other people don’t. El Vez managed to write up a review explaining pretty much exactly how I feel about Somewhere whilst balancing out what other’s have had to say about it.

DN191: Röyksopp – Senior – That Go – Amazing video for a brilliant song, in the words of 50 Cent, I love this “like a fat kid loves cake”. To say I was chuffed when MarBelle got this interview would be just a little bit of an understatement!

Trish Keenan You’ll Be Missed – I took no joy in penning this post but it did mean I spent the rest of the month singing the praises of Trish Keenan and Broadcast, hopefully turning many of you into life long fans of their music.

DN192 – Strange Powers – Kerthy Fix – I wanted this Interview first. I was meant to speak to Kerthy Fix at the London Film Festival, which is when I had the pleasure of seeing Strange Powers. Unfortunately for me, it didn’t happen. Luckily for you guys though, MarBelle managed to speak to her outside of festival business, in much quieter locations then the Mayfair hotel and provide us all, with (let’s face it) a much better interview/listening experience. I’ve recommended you watch this documentary before, so I won’t do it again…

Metronomy: She Wants – I love Metronomy. I love the videos of JUL & MAT. What I hate is bloody fast fingers El Vez who had this in the post queue before I could even type the title!

In related news, we’ll be running our interview with BAFTA nominee Piers Thompson for his film LIN later this next week, so be sure to pop back for that.

And while you’re in the giving mood don’t forget us film bloggers love gifts too!

Part of Me is a film that certainly leaves an impression. In many ways a quite disturbing short, as a viewer you’re left with questions that remain unanswered. A film about two women’s relationship; Nathalie is left distraught when the two closest people in her life betray her. With minimum dialog featured throughout the script, the two women’s actions and expressions speak for themselves. In doing so, Part of Me is a film that leaves your eyes permanently fixed on the picture.

Directed on 16mm by Mihaal Danziger, its producer Cecilia Frugiuele who is given a special mention as part of the UnderWire Film Festival. Born and raised in Milan, Cecilia moved to London to study in 2004 and throughout that time has been devoted to producing and working on both shorts and features. Establishing a growing relationship with the National Film and Television school, she has also collaborated with Parkville Pictures since 2007. Producing three films for Parkville alone this year, Part of Me is the first to hit the international festival circuits having had its premiere at the Budapest Short Film Festival. Cecilia is certainly a young producer to watch out for in the future within both film and television.

Play the Part of Me Promo

Pussy is a somewhat lighthearted delivery of a much more serious subject. Ellie is being sexually bullied by a boy at her school, Rocco. With constant humiliation in front of her peers, she’s struggling to cope alone leading to her parents’ intervention and our introduction of the film. This short is another unquestionably loveable film, seeing the bully put in their place is something an audience will never tire of. Also, the sense of strength and support within this young girl’s family is something that also left me smiling.

Written, directed and produced by Debbie Howard, founder of production company Big Buddha Films, started her career in acting. It was after 25 years spent doing just that when she began to realise the number of women’s roles in films where becoming more scarce and certainly less substantial. She began writing her own scripts featuring strong female characters which eventually led to Big Buddha Films and the aim of creating powerful thought provoking films with female protagonists at their heart. With cuts to film funding in full effect, Debbie is now attempting to self raise funding for her next film Peekaboo, You can watch her IndieGoGo pitch, and donate to the project via the website here.

Pussy (Trailer) from Big Buddha Films on Vimeo.

Mother, Mine is the haunting story of the young Alison, grieving the death of her adoptive mother she sets out on a quest to find her natural mother in the hope of finding a replacement ‘mum’. Her journey begins initially hopeful, with the two women meeting, but things soon spiral out of control for both Alison and her natural mother. The ending we expect isn’t forthcoming, instead the true end of the film brings a reveal hard to imagine.

Written and directed by Susan Everett, a talented lady who started her creative career as an illustrator before turning to novels and short story writing that eventually lead to screenwriting and directing. I honestly can’t count the amount of festivals this film has appeared in and it’s wonderful to see a production full of women both on and off the screen do so well.

Hip Hip Hooray is a short film featuring the instantly recognisable face (at least in the UK) of Kacey Ainsworth, famous for her role as little Mo in Eastenders. Here she plays Pippa, an enthusiastic care worker who’s preparations for a surprise birthday party are quickly revealed to be for herself. Surrounded by bored residents and fellow care workers who aren’t as enthusiastic as herself, she leaves work to celebrate her birthday at home. Although she talks about having plans with friends, we always suspect as an audience that she’s going home to an empty house. It’s her pet rabbit that brings her the only living company that evening except for a hopeful secret admirer. As shy as Pippa himself, he’s just about to ring the doorbell when he turns around and heads towards the garden gate.

Another short written by its director, Lynsey Miller works for production company Ruby Films as well as pursuing independent projects in her spare time. Like Mother, Mine, Hip Hip Hooray has had success at various international festivals including West Hollywood International Film Festival, Clare Valley and the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. It’s wonderful to see another film full of females that leaves us with a surprise ending, I can see why both films have nods from UnderWire for their impressive scripts.

Some Thoughts by a First Time Feature Film Director

Like pretty much all filmmakers, I’ve always wanted to make a feature. Other, shorter, forms of the medium are all well and good, and certainly have their place on the filmic landscape, but features are the epicentre from which they rumble – and therefore the goal of many an aspiring filmmaker. Yet getting to the stage of being ready to make a feature isn’t easy. I’m not sure I even believe that anyone is ever ready. Many directors will tell you that a film is never finished, it’s only abandoned, and I would likewise say that you’re never ready to make a feature: you just jump in.

But let’s face it: it’s always good to learn to swim before you dive in the deep end.

Back in 2005 I came out of University with a BA in filmmaking and a number of student shorts under my belt. My dream, of course, was to make a feature. But I knew I wasn’t ready. Not ‘not ready’ like I was on October 17th 2010, the day before I finally started shooting my debut feature film Life Just Is, but actually, properly, not ready. I needed to develop more as a filmmaker, and as a person. I needed more practice – and a better understanding – of working with cast and crew. And I also needed to experiment more, make more mistakes, and try and find something approaching my own methodology of filmmaking. I never succeeded in the latter, as I quickly realised that each project is different and therefore calls for you to approach it accordingly, but in making those shorts – and in continuing to watch as many films as possible – I did find something approaching an ideology of filmmaking (though one which, I’m sure, will continue to evolve as I develop further as a person and filmmaker).

Once I’d taken the plunge and decided it was finally time to make my first feature, I set about working on the film in much the same way as I would have had it just been another short. My producer, Tom Stuart, is a big believer in script development, so we used the time while we were pulling the funding together to concurrently work further on the screenplay. I’m pleased that Tom pushed me as hard as he did during this time, as the script is certainly better as a result (the ICA Lab that we attended also proved very helpful in moving the script forward). By this time I also had quite a clear style for the film in mind, so I was able to begin communicating this to prospective financiers and collaborators. The style itself had been slowly formulating in my mind for quite some time. As someone who has grown to believe in the necessity of a synthesis of form and content, I had started writing the film without a fixed style in mind, waiting to see first where the script would take me. But as the script developed, my intentions clarified. I’d started working on the film with some very particular aims in mind, and as the project progressed the best way to achieve these aims stylistically became clear, and a definite style was born.

In an attempt to help us secure the funding, we decided to cast the film during this development/fundraising period. With my shorts I had previously done all the casting myself, advertising on sites like Shooting People and Mandy for actors. For Life Just Is, however, I was lucky enough to work with the amazing casting director Jane Frisby. The response to the script from the actors was incredible, and really gave the production team a boost: as well as being the right age for the characters, the actors were also the same age as our target audience, meaning that it was a great way for us to market-test our project. The enthusiasm we received from the actors really helped us through the depressing months of searching for funding. The only downside to casting so early was that other commitments emerged for some of the actors, meaning that our cast line-up had to change. In the long run, though, I believe that these changes worked out for the best, and I couldn’t be happier with our final line-up. In fact, I feel very lucky indeed to have had such great actors to work with.

Once we were green lit and everything had started falling into place, I began to draw storyboard sketches for the entire film. Luckily for me, my crew was able to understand these sketches, despite their poor quality. Using them as a basis for discussion, my cinematographer Yosuke Kato and I visited the locations, and, with his viewfinder as a helping guide, turned them into a more concrete shot list. As part of my director’s prep I also tramlined a script with each shot, so that everyone knew exactly which shots would be covering which parts of the scene. The combination of the shot list and tramlined script meant that my editor, Murat Kebir, had a clear idea of what material he would be getting well in advance, and was therefore able to advise on changes and improvements to my plans.

Of course, photography is only one element of filmmaking, and I likewise went through the script from a sound point of view (writing notes in blue) and performance (writing notes in pencil). There was plenty of other preparation done, both direction and production wise, but to detail all that here would be beyond the scope of this piece. In the month or so running up to the shoot I was pulling 18 hour days, seven days a week, making sure that I was as ready as I could be. But as I said at the beginning, no one is ever really ready to direct their first feature…

The shoot itself was intense. In honesty, we needed more money and more time… but then I think very few filmmakers would say otherwise, regardless of their budget or the length of their shoot. Ultimately, everyone did the best they could, and that’s all one can ask for. The cast and crew were extremely dedicated to the project, and everyone did a fantastic job, working to overcome the limitations and problems that we had.

On a practical level, there was little difference between the shooting of Life Just Is and the shooting of my shorts, but on a conceptual level it required a lot more energy and effort. For instance, making sure there was some emotional consistency to the characters across the entire film took a lot of thought and lot of planning: when you’re shooting one part of a sequence on the first day of the shoot and another part on the last day it’s important to make sure it will flow when it’s all put together. When shooting a short over a couple of days this isn’t so hard, but when you’re filming the scenes several weeks apart, you need to stay on the ball. Only time (and editing) will tell if I got it right!

As I write this piece I am at the end of a week off that I’ve taken to recover from the months of no sleep. Murat, meanwhile, has been organising and transcoding the footage, getting all the files ultra-organised in order to help us in the edit. While on set our DIT, Tom Ruddock, and I filled in logging sheets for him, detailing the file name, slate, take and shot number, and Murat is using these notes to help with his organisation. Tomorrow I will start looking through the rushes, making notes on my thoughts on every take, and from there we will step into the edit. It’s an exciting time, but also a little scary…after all these years I’m only a month or so away from seeing a completed first cut of my debut feature…

I look forward to being able to share the final cut with all of you in due course.

I also took part in the world’s first crowd funding pitch Seize the Future run by Charlie Phillips. The cash prize was raised by public donation on Indiegogo and awarded to a crowd funded project. We came in tantalisingly close second place.

So What is Crowd Funding?

A “sponsored swim” for independent filmmakers, with perks and pre-sales? A way of getting projects off the ground? The saviour of the film industry?

Here’s a short video from the Guardian at Doc/Fest including a brief mention of Sound It Out. And an article from the Guardian about the filmmakers using crowd funding.

Here’s a little bit about Sound It Out and I’ll explain why I chose to crowd fund this project”

Sound It Out is a documentary portrait of the very last surviving vinyl record shop in Teesside, which will run at between 45-60 minutes long.

Director: Jeanie Finlay (Goth Cruise – IFC) Starring: Tom, Kelly, David, Daniel, 70,000 records and the good people of Teesside.

A distinctive, funny and intimate film about men, obsession and the irreplaceable role music plays in our lives.
Think – High Fidelity with a Northern Accent.

Vinyl records are much more than just music – it’s memories and the soundtrack to our lives and the film shows us just that. I can remember the first 45 I bought with my pocket money, the song I fell in love to, and the LP that healed my broken heart, but I just don’t feel the same about an mp3.

Independent record shops are an endangered species and in the last five years alone, 500 shops in the UK have gone to the great high street in the sky. Sound It Out is a cultural haven in an area of the country that’s struggling with recession, government cuts and industrial decline. It’s important to show Sound It Out as a place that is surviving in spite of all of this and its vital place in the community.

Every penny spent in the shop makes a difference and every penny committed to the film makes a difference – it shows on screen and will help us finish the film.

As backer #126 Ange Taggart puts it – Why fund Sound It Out ? “Because small shops give us hope“. Olly Wood backer #108 puts it this way: “Click the link, watch the clip, nod in agreement, fund the film. Easy as wink.”

Why Crowd Fund?

I don’t think crowd funding will work or be suitable for every project, but there were a few things that made me believe it would work with this film:

Niche Audience – Vinyl and record collectors are a large potential audience for the film.

Low Budget – Ideal to raise a “get on with it” budget. There are an awful lot of projects on Indiegogo with aims of raising $25k plus. I think this is a big ask and it’s better to split your film into smaller more manageable chunks. Raise for shoot, post, music clearances, dvd release, etc. separately.

Committed to the Project – I really, passionately wanted to make the film. I’d been filming for about 12 months unfunded but wanted to get serious and spend more time in the shop. I didn’t want to go through the long, slow dance of meeting with broadcasters and trying the raise money the “traditional way” – crowd funding seemed like an immediate way of connecting with an audience and raising a “get on with it” shoot budget. Charlie Phillips at Doc/Fest also convinced me that it could be a good fit for this film. I had nothing to lose by trying it as an experiment!

From the outset I’ve been ambitious to not let the low budget get in the way of how I want to make the film. I asked all the people that I would choose to work with on a fully funded feature documentary. They are all my first choice. They have very generously taken token fees and helped arrange support in kind to get the film finished.

I’ve been overwhelmed by just how much support I have received in order to get the film made – from amazing funders, to record companies and artists who have donated music gratis or very cheaply, Broadway cinema who have donated space to edit and Sally Hodgson who has been working as Producer of Marketing and Distribution (PMD) in an amazing capacity, helping the film find its audience.

I owe it to everyone involved that the film is finished and is good – no pressure then!

Why IndieGoGo?

I tweeted to see if anyone had any experience with crowd funding. Danae from Indiegogo got back to me within about 5 minutes and was incredibly supportive and helpful. She completely won me over. Also they were one of the few crowd funding sites that used PayPal so I didn’t need a US bank account (unlike Kickstarter).

I met Slava Rubin at Doc/Fest last week. He is a truly positive man who believes in what he’s doing – I have never had so many high 5s in a conversation ever. Sure it’s a great business model – over 12,000 projects on Indiegogo right now, but I think there’s something deeper behind it. Engaging with communities and Doing it with Others (DIWO) was an element that was present when I was making artwork that I missed in filmmaking.

Lessons I Learnt in Crowd Funding

A trailer is not a pitch video!

The main one and a very hard one for me. I had to put my British reserve to one side. When I launched the first campaign I simply put up the trailer and we raised about 10 pence. I attended the Seize the Future workshop by Peter Broderick and Sandi DuBowski and took advice from Indiegogo old hand John Trigonis. They all told me – “Put yourself in the video”. I made a new trailer with me pitching the film and we got some bigger partners on board to help us bang the drum – in particular Record Store Day. It made a world of difference. I now believe that people invest in the filmmakers as much as the project.

DIWO
Find audience and partners out in the world – filmmakers funding other filmmakers is not a sustainable model. Find other people that can help spread the word about your project. Again, a very un-British idea to grasp but essential. It’s planning the PR, marketing and outreach before the film is even made. We’ve tried to reach out to all the different groups of people who may be interested in our film, so we’ve really tried to cast the net far and wide. Friends and family, The North East, vinyl fans, record collectors, customers of the shop, other independent record shops, record labels, flickr groups, press, radio…the list goes on. International Record Store Day have been great supporters and promoted us on their page which has a really big following.

Design good perks that people actually want. You’re not begging, you’re offering something good in exchange for backing and coming on board.

Give Credit
I think it’s really important to say thank you to everyone who supports the project. I built a funders’ page so we can put faces to names and find out why people have funded the film. We have also encouraged everyone who has become a supporter to tell their friends and help spread the word, becoming ambassadors for the project – making our reach much wider than we could on our own.

Don’t be Afraid of Asking for Help
Sally Hodgson came on board as PMD and it has been so much more fun and productive to work with someone else. Filmmaking can be a lonely business and it’s much more fun with someone else.

Any Surprises?
The most surprising moment was connecting with a stranger. In our first campaign Andrew Riggs, a US soldier serving in Iraq, saw the link on Record Store Day and came on board as an Associate Producer with a donation of $2000. It was completely overwhelming and amazing that a stranger would come on board in such an act of faith. His brother works at a vinyl pressing plant in Nashville. He liked the idea that some of the records his brother has made would be for sale in the shop.

What’s Going to Happen to the Film?

The film has been commissioned as an artwork for Sideshow in Nottingham so we’ll be showing a ‘sneak peek’ of the film, along with a discussion event and gig – Das Wanderlust and Russell and the Wolves (Teesside bands who feature in the film) playing live. December 11th 2010.

Sound It Out will be packaged like a 7” gatefold single and released on limited edition DVD for sale in independent record shops in the UK and further afield on International Record Store Day April 2011. We also plan to show the film in a series of hidden-treasure record shops.

Would I Crowd Fund Again?

Maybe…I think so…ask me in 24 hours – see if I made my budget. It is a lot of work, extra different work, in fact all the same work of a fully funded film without the crew or cushion of a film budget. BUT I have really enjoyed talking directly with the audience and just making the film instead of have 50 meetings about making a film, it’s a very liberating feeling that has made me feel like I don’t have to wait in future to make a film. My advice, find the right project, gather your team and give it a go. The surprises are worth it.

Find Sound It Out online at:
Sound It Out
Facebook Page
@sounditoutdoc

Before they leave for Rio, the filmmakers and Vik both have feelings of anxiety. Not knowing what to expect, Vik and his collaborator Fabio look at aerial pictures of the landfill site. Nothing could have prepared them for the reality of the situation; the people endlessly picking rubbish both day and night. Walker talks about their first recce of Jardim Gramancho, recalling one of the eldest pickers Valter as he cycled towards them on his bike decorated with trinkets in head to toe protective layers fit for a voyage into space, it was at that point she knew she had a film.

Vik originally set out with the intention of just photographing the catadores, yet found the photos so striking, he had to do more with them. It was the catadores spirit and personalities that led him to tackle the project he did alongside them. The first thing that struck me as a viewer is how happy the landfill pickers appeared. Confusing though it may be to us, they felt very fortunate to be in the position they’re in. It soon became clear that for most of these people, prostitution and drugs trafficking are two of the very slim occupation options they encounter in their lives.

The two Catadores who leave the most striking impression are Tiao and Zumbi. Tiao is the young charismatic president of the ACAMJP (the Association for the Pickers of Jardim Gramacho). Inspired by political texts he found after being thrown away, he started his association to aid all his fellow pickers. Resident intellectual Zumbi has been picking since he was nine years old, instead of seeing books as recycling paper like most, he’s kept every one he’s found. Part of the ACAMJP too, he also runs his shack as a library for the pickers. Both are highly thought of within the site, and are mentioned many times before and after we meet them on screen.

Wasteland also introduces us to Irma, a remarkable women who cooks for the pickers from the still edible food she finds in Jardim Gramancho.  She boasts of making salads, stews and roasts from her findings and sees it as her job to look after everybody. The sense of unity is almost defiant and an element of what makes this a very special place. One man tells us how his life was saved when 20 of the pickers donated their blood after he’d had an accident on the site.

The pickers recreate the pictures Vik and Fabio took of them with some of the rubbish they collected. As Vik directs from above, they slowly create their own faces before climbing up the scaffolding to see the finished product. We see every member of the group react to their recreations, bringing out both their dignity and pride. The effect of the project is particularly great on some; we see a debate between Vic and his wife as she questions whether he’s being unfair by taking them away from the rubbish to take part in this exciting project, flying them to London, but in the end returning to Brooklyn and leaving the pickers in the same predicament they were in before. At the time you can’t help but see this as a justified point, in the case of Isis especially. One of the younger pickers involved with the project who hasn’t worked at the site as long as the others, she hates garbage picking and eventually reveals the tragedy that brought her to Jardim Gramancho.

When taking the first image of Vik’s and the catadores work to auction in London, Vik takes Tiao with him. With a smile I watched as his photo sold for $50,000, an insane amount for most of us let alone a young garbage picker from Rio.

As the film ends, we see them on the opening night of the gallery that places their faces on the wall. The exhibition was one of the most popular in Brazilian history, coming second only to Picasso.  With the money made from the photos and exhibitions, the catadores were able to put back into their community. They built the recycling centre they had always wished for, Zumbi got the full library he dreamed off, complete with computers and equipment for everybody to learn.

Walker stays close for the whole feature, giving us a chance to learn of the catadores’ individual stories and taking us into their homes. None of these people have had an easy life, some stories are heartbreaking whilst others make you laugh, they really do make the best of the lives they’re living. A group of people who are responsible for removing 200 tons of recycling materials a day, equivalent to a city with a population of 400,000, deserve a lot of respect. 

Soundtracked by Moby, Waste Land was everything I hoped for and so much more. An uplifting and inspirational film which concludes by showing us the amazing power of art as we hear of the pickers’ transformed lives. Waste Land isn’t due for release until March 2011, but with seats still available for the London Film Festival screenings, take my advice and do everything you can to get yourself to one of them this weekend.

The internet, per usual, delivers on this front with a cascade of reading material poking and prodding every nook and cranny of the cinematic arts. While this list is by no means comprehensive — nor does it dismiss the contributions of other resources out there — it does provide a hopefully valuable and diverse starting point for anyone hoping to see their stories get told.

Now, don’t let DN’s inclusion in the Filmmaking section (thanks!) put you off, there are a ton of useful links here for you to check out.

Podcast

There are two situations in which the audio interviews for DN are recorded; live and in person or (by far the most frequent) remotely over Skype.

For the face to face interviews I’m never without a pad, a pen, headphones and my Zoom H4. Despite looking not dissimilar to a taser (which is frequently a good pre-interview icebreaker), I love this recorder. As well as being solid in the studio, it’s perfect in the field. It has two 1/4 Jack/XLR (with optional phantom power) inputs which means you can use pretty much any mic you wish with it, however I tend to let the built in XY crossed pair electret mics do their thing and have never been disappointed. A word of warning however; you can’t hold the H4 and record on the built in mics without including handling noise. I get round this by placing it on a table/solid surface and reminding my guest not to bang, tap or drum on it. Back to the positive, both the memory (SD cards) and batteries (standard AAs) are switchable so no worries about running out of space or power.

The studio set up is a little bit more fiddly and comprises: A Shure 555H Series II mic & boom arm, MacBook running Skype, U-Control UCA202 USB interface, Onyx Satellite mixer, the Zoom H4 and Sennheiser HD 280 headphones. I could easily record the Skype interviews on the MacBook, but I’m paranoid and like the control of using a Mix Minus set up, eliminating the worry of losing an hour of interview if my Mac decides to crash.

I then take the raw recording into Soundtrack Pro for editing and mixing (BTW – getting your head round the Spectral View will make editing so much easier), bounce it to iTunes for tagging, and upload to Libsyn. Hosting the podcast files at Libsyn lets me avoid unexpected bandwidth fees when episodes blow up.

Finally I log into the DN WordPress to create the post, using ImageWell to resize/crop images and TextExpander to take care of the repetitive text and html code. Job done!

Site

If you’ve been visiting the site or reading the full feed then you know that we’ve got a lot more going on than just the podcast, which has meant I spend much more time surfing for films and posting to the site.

I used to do all this from my MacBook but a new addition to my gear and a recent loan are making me reconsider my workflow. You may have noticed the presence of an iPad in the top picture, which in the six weeks since I’ve picked it up has pretty much become my default ‘computer’ – I only return to my MacBook begrudgingly to watch Flash videos or edit audio/video.

My iPad is perfect for checking in with other film sites via NewsRack, watching films on Vimeo, editing pictures with PhotoPad and posting to DN – although I have to use the WordPress web interface as the official iPad app is worse than useless! All I’m really lacking is a decent audio editing/podcasting – tried Caster but it just didn’t cut it – and video editing app.

As I spend most of my time swaddled in Wi-Fi I decided to save the extra £100 for the 3G model and had a vague idea of the possibilities of carrying around a personal hotspot if I ever needed it, which I did a few weeks ago. The kind folks at 3mobilebuzz let me borrow one of their MiFi units which killed that problem dead. I blogged on the bus, on the train and didn’t have to hunt down a Starbucks every time I came to a rest. As long as there was 3G reception I was fine. It’s a forgone conclusion that I’ll be adding a MiFi to my on the go set up. I can see it being particularly useful when El Vez, Neil and I decamp to the London Film Festival later this year.

So those are the workings behind DN. If you have any app recommendations to get me fully committed to the iPad or questions shout in the comments.

It was in the early to mid 90′s when I really fell in love with cinema, the “boom” period of alternative American cinema was in full flow and the  likes of Jim Jarmusch, Quentin Tarantino, Tom DiCillo, Robert Rodriguez and The Coen Brothers were all hitting their peak. These “indie” films were not only the start of illustrious careers for their directors, but were also a place for young up and coming actors to shine. Brad Pitt showed glimpses of his edgier side in Johnny Suede, Johnny Depp put in what I consider to be a career best performance as William blake in Dead Man and George Clooney suddenly went from hunky to TV doctor to heavily tattooed, vampire killing bad-ass. Throughout all these films though, there seemed to be one constant, one thing linking them all together, one man who should be the lynch pin of the six degrees of separation theory, Steve Buscemi.

As an actor I liked Buscemi the first time I ever saw him, as Charlie the Barber in Jarmusch’s Mystery Train, he was like an island  of nerves, surrounded by the sea of cool that was Joe Strummer. Buscemi has made his name playing the roles no-one else can (or wants to); on film he’s the ultimate loser and if a director’s looking to cast for the character of ‘weird-looking, slightly nervous guy’, Buscemi’s name is always going be first on that list. One look at the roles he’s played over his  25 year career and it’s almost impossible to imagine anyone else playing these characters. Whether as the “kinda funny looking” Carl Showalter in Fargo, the scene-stealing Mr Pink in Reservoir Dogs or the down-trodden Theodore “Shut the fuck up Donny” Donald in The Big Lebowski, Buscemi always takes a role and unquestionably owns it. This is undoubtedly the case in one of his most recent roles as Buscemi fills the titular role in Hue Rhodes’ Dante inspired, low-budget debut feature Saint John of Las Vegas and ultimately steals the show.

After a run of bad luck, John (Steve Buscemi), a compulsive gambler, runs away from Las Vegas and toward a normal job and life. Taking a nondescript position in an auto insurance company in Albuquerque, he tries to get ahead in the straight world, amid the ever-present temptations of scratch-off lotto tickets.

When his boss, Mr. Townsend (Peter Dinklage), asks John to accompany his top fraud debunker, Virgil (Romany Malco) on an investigation of a dubious car “accident” near Vegas, John sees an opportunity to get a promotion, though he’s concerned about returning to the gambling game.

Through the journey, John’s confidence builds, and he realizes that he can’t escape his gambling addiction by running away from it—it will follow him wherever he goes. It’s only when he returns to Vegas and his experiences there finally send him on the path to breaking free.

Saint John of Las Vegas follows the wild and funny trip a guy has to take to discover there’s more than one way to hit the jackpot in life.

Ignoring Steve Buscemi for a moment, the plot of Saint John is nothing particularly original as our down on his luck anti-hero tries to turn his life around (in many ways Rhodes film is similar to Wayne Kramer’s 2003 film, The Cooler). However, the film is made by a series of strange encounters and some wonderful casting and is at its most successful when it hits its road movie  section, as Buscemi and Malco head towards Vegas (a place not particularly beneficial for a compulsive gambler trying to kick the habit), trying to uncover the truth behind a suspicious insurance claim. Along the way they stumble into an array of peculiar situations, finding themselves face to face with the Flame Lord, getting a lap-dance with a wheelchair bound stripper and have their path blocked by a group of fire wielding naturists. Alongside Steve Buscemi, he finds himself surrounded by a wealth of strong performances, as Romany Malco (The 40 year old Virgin), Peter Dinklage (The Station Agent) and the strangely sexy Sarah Silverman all put in decent turns. There’s even a Buscemi style cameo from Tim Blake Nelson (O Brother, Where Art Thou?), playing a cowboy naturist who wont let anything unnatural pass into the reserve, unless it’s a gun…..or boots….or a cowboy hat.

The film has received some pretty poor reviews so far, with some describing it as a pointlessly nonlinear narrative overflowing with superficial walk-on characters or a bad script that somehow got made into a bad movie with good people in it. Maybe this is just going to be one of those films that’s a bit of a secret indulgence for me, but how can you not like a film with a Steve Buscemi in such sparkling form. For me I’m with film critic Roger Moore in agreeing that is a film Buscemi was born to star in and how can that be a bad thing?

When Rian Johnson’s Brick came out in 2005, the class and confidence shown in the young filmmaker’s directorial debut blew me away. For those of you that haven’t seen Brick, it plays out like part hard-boiled, neo-noir detective story and part high school drama; imagine the novels of Dashiell Hammett mixed with Alexander Payne’s Election. It’s a film of great maturity, style and substance, made for under $500,000 and edited on the director’s Apple G4; it truly is one of the few shining examples of low-budget filmmaking of recent years (Johnson even admitted in a recent Q&A at the Curzon, that he believed it was a miracle the film got made, as he was just a “first time director with a weird script”). The main problem with having a low-budget, critically acclaimed, box office hit is how to follow it? In Johnson’s case, you follow with what the director describes as a “character driven con-man movie with an emotional pay-off”; the super-slick The Brothers Bloom.

From an early age the brothers Stephen (Mark Ruffalo) and Bloom (Adrien Brody) have been conmen, orphaned, the boys get shuffled to foster home after foster home, the art of the con remaining the one consistent element in their lives. Brothers they may be, but these two certainly aren’t cut from the same cloth; Stephen is a con man at heart, he lives and breathes for his elaborate scams, whereas over time Bloom has become disenchanted with a life of lies and “being who he wasn’t”. Bloom tries to leave the life of the fraudster behind, but his brother (and only family) convinces him to come back for the ‘perfect con’, swindling the lonely, oddball millionairess Penelope Stamp (Rachel Weisz). Joined by the brothers’ mysterious accomplice Bang Bang (Rinko Kikuchi), an explosives expert who apparently just appeared one day out of thin-air, this eccentric foursome travels Europe scamming the hell out of everyone. As you would expect from a con movie, you’re never completely sure who’s the ‘coner’ or who’s the ‘conee’ and the story gets flipped more often than Tony Hawk’s skateboard as Stephen’s confidence tricks get more and more elaborate. Meanwhile, the relationship between Bloom and Penelope blossoms and it slowly starts to becomes apparent that soon he’ll have to choose between his brother and a life of fraud or Penelope and a life of truth. Although this is Bloom’s film (there’s no doubting he’s the leading-man), the story plays out like one of Stephen’s intricate plans, every event unwinding like a note in the margin of his notebook.

Where Brick excelled with a strong sense of originality and an innovative script, The Brothers Bloom left me feeling a little disappointed. There’s no doubting Johnson’s film is overflowing with fun and entertainment, but it does feel a little like I’ve seen it all before (can’t believe I’m saying that about a film containing a drunk camel and and a one-legged cat in a roller skate). In terms of style, The Brothers Bloom couldn’t help but remind me of the films of Wes Anderson; although maybe it’s hard to think of anything but The Darjeeling Limited, when watching a film about brothers featuring Adrien Brody and a train. The similarities run a lot deeper than this though; like Anderson, Johnson has a concentrated eye for quirky details which shows not only in the oddball behaviours of his characters (Penelope’s bizarre list of hobbies is a prime example) but in just about every process of filmmaking, from costumes, to locations, to transitions. Some critics appear to have reacted badly to the levels of twee and eccentricity in the film, describing it as relatively joyless exercise and too contrived to be plausible, too winsome to be quite bearable, but Johnson laughed off these comments insisting he “liked a world filled with one-legged cats in roller skates”. In terms of plot, if you’ve seen the likes of Ridley Scott’s Matchstick Men, Steven Soderbergh’s Ocean’s Eleven/Twelve/Thirteen or James Foley’s Confidence, you’ll pretty much know what to expect from Johnson’s con man movie, even if he does do it with a bit more flair and style than the others. There’s tricks aplenty throughout the film’s slightly overweight 114 minutes and although it doesn’t quite live up to the high standards of Brick, that’s not to say this isn’t a hugely enjoyable film. It’s well written, well cast, well acted and generally well made, but it’s just missing that spark to lift it from being simply a good film to something much, much more.

Although, The Brothers Bloom is slightly too elaborate for its own good, it is still a piece of filmmaking to admire and I’m with Andrew O’Hagan in believing that Rian Johnson is a new and original directing talent. If you get a chance, Johnson is definitely a director I would advise all up and coming filmmakers to hear talk; he speaks openly and honestly about the industry and the processes involved in getting a film made. The main piece of advice he had for people hoping to emulate his success was that “the main path to any movie getting made, lies under the feet of those making it…it’s all about persistence”. He even went on to admit that once you made that first movie, that first leap, the leaps that follow are much easier as “you have better people all around you”, so don’t be afraid to leap.

Johnson’s next venture into features is to be the “dark Blade Runner style sci-fi” Looper, which focuses on a group of killers (called Loopers) who work for a crime syndicate in the future. Their bosses send their targets hogtied and blindfolded back in time to the Loopers, and their job is to simply shoot them in the head and dispose of the body. For more clues on the plot of Looper, you can follow the film’s rather cryptic blog.

If you want to know more about The Brothers Bloom, Johnson has even made a director’s commentary available that you can download on to your iPhone or mp3 player and listen to whilst watching the film.

Every year there seems to be a film doing the circuit that is engulfed in controversy and elicits very strong reactions from its audience. Whether it’s Lars Von Trier’s Antichrist and its “shockingly graphic mutilations”, Gasper Noe’s Irréversible and its “sad, sickening exhibitionism” or Vincent Gallo’s Brown Bunny, branded as the “worst film in the history of Cannes”. This year’s film of debate, looks set to be Michael Winterbottom’s adaptation of Jim Thompson’s novel, The Killer Inside Me, which even before viewing the Daily Mail’s Melanie Phillips described as “turning sadism into entertainment”, suggesting it “may indeed inspire a few disturbed individuals to commit acts of violence themselves” (I’m surprised they didn’t go on to blame Winterbottom for the death of Diana and the immigration problem in England). However, delve beneath the smog of controversy and what you’ll actually discover is a highly polished genre film, overflowing with strong performances.

Winterbottm’s film starts off civil enough with its colourful, retro-styled, Bassesque opening credits and its upbeat kitsch soundtrack, however, the pleasantries don’t last long as we’re plunged into the twisted psyche of deputy sheriff Lou Ford (Casey Affleck). The beginning of The Killer Inside Me almost lulls the viewer into an initial false state of bliss, playing out like a film noir of the fifties, showcasing a world where everyone in a skirt is called ‘M’am’ and if a man is caught with his trousers down, you apologize to him first, before arresting him. Behind Affleck’s crooked smile though, you sense that all is not right with deputy Ford.

The main controversial moment occurs quite early in the narrative and involves the unrelenting battering of prostitute Joyce Lakeland (Jessica Alba) by Deputy Ford. I wont lie to you, this scene is shockingly graphic, it’s very hard to watch and in my opinion probably only comparable to the ‘fire extinguisher’ scene in Irréversible (a sequence I always found more shocking than the infamous rape). In fact, Affleck’s character doesn’t really do any good throughout the film’s 109-minute duration, raping and killing without much afterthought or remorse for his victims. It’s Fords utter repulsiveness and the first person/point of view approach, that for me, softened the blow of this hard-hitting film.

I’ll admit it takes a lot for a film to offend me (to be honest, I can’t think of any movie I’ve watched and been horrified by…..unless you count the time my girlfriend made me accompany her to the cinema to see the Uma Thurman rom-com Prime), but at no point whatsoever during The Killer Inside Me did I find my self, a) siding with Ford or b) inspired to commit a few acts of violence myself. Ford is a psychotic whose actions are vicious and without purpose or thought and if Winterbottom was to underplay this violence, then surely he would be softening these actions and in turn making his main character less loathsome. For me it has always seemed a petty and hugely misdirected act to point the finger at film, music or any other art form for any human shortcomings and I feel exactly the same about Winterbottom’s The Killer Inside Me, I think to focus on the violence and controversy in this film is like focusing on a nettle in a field of roses, the violent acts takes up such a small percentage of screen time and Winterbottom’s creation is so much more than just its brutal moments. It’s a film full of convincing period detail and the ever improving Affleck leads a plethora of excellent performances from the likes of the stunning Jessica Alba and the prolific Elias Koteas. The narrative is an unpredictable labyrinth of twists and turns and you truly never know what to expect next from the explosive Ford.

In summary, Winterbottom has produced yet another daring and challenging film to add to his abundant back catalogue. Many will find the violence too much, many will be disturbed and horrified, but ultimately Winterbottom has only been faithful to a renowned author’s celebrated work of pulp fiction. My advice to those thinking of watching this film, if you’re easily offended then don’t go see it, on the other hand if you’re looking for thought-provoking, debate inducing cinema, this should be right up your street. In all honesty, I’d probably find Sex and the City 2 more offensive.

Sometimes I know I’m going to love a film just from seeing one still. Sure, sometimes this assumption can prove hideously wrong, but on other occasions it can be a perfect presumption.

Arriving at the London Film Festival last year, I picked up the heavily packed programme and started thumbing my way through a head-spinning amount of films, ticking the titles I wanted to see (which was a lot!). Around page 39 I was brought to a sudden halt by the image of a one eyed, heavily marked man on his knees in a field of mud, chained to a huge post. I instantly knew I had to see Nicolas Winding Refn’s Valhalla Rising, so I put a big ring around the listing and made a note of the screenings. One of the only bad points with having a press pass at LFF is you can’t always book to see the films you want and unfortunately Valhalla Rising was one of the films I just had to turn up for and hope there was a ticket left. To my surprise, Winding Refn’s film turned out to be a lot more popular than I’d expected and alas I didn’t get in to any of the screenings. Now, almost seven months later, I finally found myself sitting down with great anticipation ready to watch what I was hoping would be a brutal Viking epic. Thankfully, my expectations weren’t let down.

Valhalla Rising tells the story of One-Eye, a fearsome beast of a Viking warrior, held captive by a clan and forced to fight to the death for their gain. The world in which he lives is unforgiving, he struggles to survive day by day and no man shows him any form of kindness. The only person who offers him even the slightest glimmer of hope, is the young son of his captor Are, who brings him food and tends to his wounds. However, a wild uncontrollable force such as One-Eye can’t be held captive for too long and he inevitably (and rather violently) breaks free from the clan imprisoning him. Accompanied by Are and a legion of ‘God’s own Soldiers’, One-Eye embarks on a voyage to the Holy Land, hoping to finally make his way home. The expedition hits many obstacles along the way though as disorientating fog, restless natives and a drug filled water supply all conspire to ensure this oddball ensemble’s passage is anything but smooth.

For those familiar with Winding Refn’s previous creations, it will be no surprise that this is a no holds-barred, uncompromising, brute of a film that like many of his previous works features a dominating performance from its male lead. The talented director has managed not only to inject the film with the unrelenting violence and physicality the story so deserves, but also fill it with haunting beauty and mesmerizing mystery. Playing a mute warrior with just one eye, it was important Mads Mikkelsen created a purely physical character, bathed in intrigue and feared by all he encounters. Snarling, glaring and beating his way across the screen, it’s certainly a performance to behold and for such a governing role, Mikkelsen’s performance is one of subtleties and restraint (his character could have easily been overblown and over the top). One-Eye isn’t the only star of Valhalla Rising though, as Morten Søborg’s aesthetic treatment of the rugged Scotland locations linger on the screen, creating an unnerving sense of dread and tension for the viewer. Søborg frames Mikkelsen almost as part of the landscape at times, like an immovable object rooted to the land or a stony faced rock jutting from a hillside. In the background, a minimal soundtrack from Peter Peter and Peter Kyed rumbles sporadically throughout the film, combining with heightened sounds of nature to enhance the anxious feel the film creates.

I’ve become all too aware recently that when describing things with my writing I tend to gravitate towards using words starting with the same letter (I think I might be alliterate). It’s a bit of a bad habit I’m trying to get out of……but to summarize, Valhalla Rising is bloody brutal, beautiful and beguiling (perfectly predictable huh?).

Time is short, so if you had to boil all the film podcasts vying for your attention down to a perfect 10, then the 10 Podcasts Worth a Listen list in the Spring issue of Moviemaker Magazine is where I’d start.

Now aside from the fact that Directors Notes has made the cut (yea us!), I can honestly say it’s a quality selection, including the likes of /Filmcast, Filmspotting and Creative Screenwriting.

One slight clarification though for those of you who were inspired to visit following the piece:

“What makes this podcast unique is that while one episode may feature an interview with a moviemaker, another could feature clips from the film being discussed, so the audience won’t be in the dark if they haven’t seen the film in question.”

Pretty much ever interview we’ve run on DN, outside of festivals coverage, is proceeded by clips or full films so you always have a frame of reference for the conversation.

This column is an experiment in writing about film: what if, instead of freely choosing which parts of the film to address, I select three different, arbitrary time codes (in this case and for future columns, the 10-minute, 40-minute, and 70-minute mark), freeze the frames, and use that as a guide to writing about the film, keeping the commentary as close to possible to the frames themselves? No compromise: the film must be stopped at these time codes. Constraint as a form of freedom.

via @filmstudiesff

Airports are meant to be transitory spaces; they are bleak and filled with transitory merchandise. At least, they should be, unless you’ve made a really stupid decision and bought a ticket with an 8-hour layover at a deserted airport in Nyköping (pronounced, for better or for worse, Nish-ping), Sweden. Stay in an airport for more than a half-hour, and you’ll surely start to contemplate the place you’re leaving, along with everything you did and didn’t do in that place. Missed opportunity and the nagging reminder of your personality flaws become ridiculed by tabloids, by chewing-gum, by Dan Brown.

During my 8 hour layover, lacking an episode of Seinfeld, 30 Rock, or Six Feet Under, I found myself stuck in a strange predicament: the only thing I had available to watch on my computer was Freaks.

Freaks, for those who don’t know it, was a B-rate horror movie released in 1932 by director Tod Browning – a former circus member – which eventually gained major cult status for its usage of actors with actual deformities in lieu of makeup and prosthetics (though the end, which involves a very unconvincing miniaturized chicken woman, is an exception). It is considered a horror movie, a cautionary tale, an outcast’s manifesto, etc. Despite its reputation as a benevolent, near-moralizing portrayal, the very fact that it is a horror movie implies that there is, indeed, a horrific aspect, and these actors, despite directorial attempts at humanization, have become a grimace mechanism for Smirnoff-ice sloshed tweens at Halloween slumber parties. Of course, the “horror” factor can only come from the monstrous excess stubs, missing extremities, or shrunken heads of the lead actors, and the genre of the film has become the unintended antithesis of the movie’s “inner-beauty prevails” message.

Sitting in the middle of the terminal, resenting the people around me for their good spirit and composure, enveloped in the clouds of insomnia and a hideous, white, fur collared, pizza-stained North Face hoodie/jacket/dress/spacesuit, I couldn’t feel more like a drunken tween at a slumber party. The freaks horrified me. The travelers disgusted me. The nylon on my friend’s – I repeat, my friend’s – North Face was liquefying against my skin. Engines roared and snow churned outside. Nobody sat next to me at the terminal. I smelled like a pizza, a tween, a freak.

I watched the movie – its grainy, high contrast black and white clashing with the florescent lighting and steaming micro-waved sausages in my general vicinity – wondering why I found myself here, in this most arbitrary of airports, salivating over the atrocity of it all. The film gave life to dormant airport objects – a sausage I had ordered bore an uncanny resemblance to Prince Randian (a Ringling Brother’s performer known in the film as the Human Torso – his trademark scene is one in which, being a human torso with head, he rolls a cigarette with his tongue, which could, rumor has it, speak 5 languages); likewise, the woman who had handed me my change and my jiggling, fork-speared Prince Randian spoke in the helium soprano of Hans the midget, around whose misguided infatuations the film’s plot centers.

I was made aware of the fact that the films one watches in airports are always tinted with airport-evoked sensations: churning stomach, twisted metal, life gambling, perspiring mass-manufactured cheese products, candy overload, stale pheromones, X-Rays, drug-sniffing-dog-dander – I will forever associate Freaks with these sensations, and vice versa.

I was further awakened to the fact that whatever the emotional state of the airport misanthrope, the film he/she chooses to watch will inevitably seem to pertain. I came to the conclusion that my situation was not all too dissimilar to that of the limbless and vertically challenged actors that have, for nearly a century, been making people say “oh, did you see Freaks?” “yeah, that shit is messed up.  The pinheads, dude, the pinheads!” “Yeah, but you know, it’s such a benevolent portrayal.”  I had just come from an experience couchsurfing with Swedish anarchists who ran an organization advocating turnstile jumping and wore T-shirt variations on “I Heart NY” that read “I Plane NY.”  I’d found these people terrifying and fascinating and movie-worthy. Couchsurfing was made to be a hospitality spreader – a benevolent portrayal, one might say, of universal loneliness and alienation. Bluntly put, a benevolent portrayal of freaks. My view of these people, and surely their view of me (product of sordid capitalism, stagnant writer, activist of apathy), was a definite view of freakification: I hadn’t made any connections along my travels – rather, I had been horrified and I had been entertained. I was leaving Sweden with just a little more horror and entertainment than when I had arrived. It wouldn’t last – photos would outlast the emotions, and the emotions would morph to match the facial expressions in photos; it, like most trips, had provided an instant fulfillment for the absurd oddity I crave. Yes, another vacation was over, and I had exploitatively freakified the entire experience.

I urge anyone and everyone to create – through their putrid cult movie of choice – their own sensation of terror in airports. All the elements are already there; put them to film and allow yourself to create a memory; it’s not a vacation if your gummy airport sausage doesn’t take on all the characteristics of your most benevolently portrayed movie monster.