I may be the newest proponent of home schooling, home film schooling, anyway. Spent the afternoon watching the Criterion Collection edition of Traffic, which–in addition to three complete commentary tracks (dir./writer; producers, consultant/composer)–has a supplemental DVD with 25 deleted scenes, piles of additional footage (Soderbergh shot everything on two or three cameras) and editing, dialogue and film processing details. [Just stop dithering and buy it now. Amazon’s at least as cheap as any store.]
1) I’d forgotten what a watchable movie it is, and how stylized it is, too. The characters are laid out with real economy, to the point that almost all the deleted scenes–even the interesting, good ones–seem superfluous. The supporting characters especially, like Michael Douglas’ aide in DC, his daughters’ friends, Selma Hayek’s drug moll, even the witnesses in the kingpin trial, deliver these lines that successfully carry the whole weight of their characters.
2) Listening to Soderbergh and screenwriter Stephen Gaghan was as entertaining as it was educational. There were hi-larious war stories as well as great bits of insight. In the scene where the drug dealer’s going at it with Douglas’ daughter, it’s a wacky revelation to hear Soderbergh describe shooting from under the sweaty, nude dude. (“You’re a fine-looking man, Steven,” cracks the screenwriter.)
3) Stephen Mirrione gives some really interesting discussion of editing, especially the building process for one of the most complicated scenes, the teen overdose with Douglas’ daughter. In editing Souvenir, our scenes had a far less layered structure; it was more sequential. Of course, none of our scenes are as intricately edited as the overdose scene, which grows increasingly (seemingly) chaotic, but which turns out to have a complex, layered rhythm when you look at the editing timeline.
[As I write this, there’s a character–a callous, crazy robber–on The Practice named Gavin Brown, which is (coincidentally?) the name of an art dealer friend. Did the writer or director have trouble getting on the waitlist for work from one of Gavin’s artists? When I was subletting my apartment from a writer for Melrose Place, a pompous, materialistic Wharton MBA named Craig turned up for a few episodes. I found out she’d changed it from Greg because she liked me. Which reminds me of another friend, Euan, who’s onetime roommate turned their swingin’ life into a shortlived WB sitcom. The Takeaway: be careful of befriending screenwriters.
Author: greg
Here’s a link about rights
Here’s a link about rights and a song that I’m thinking of using, a possible replacement for Zabriskie Point.
http://www.loc.gov/folklife/cg.html
I’ve collated all Documenta 11-related entries in one page, which I’ll keep updated. There’s been a steady/increasing number of Google searches for Documenta and participating artists; rather than add a new index (“Shows I’ve seen” or something), I’ll try this compilation page idea.
Rights, On: I’ve been digging
Rights, On: I’ve been digging into rights issues for both the new project (which will get a highlights list soon) and for Souvenir, getting ready to meet with a lawyer referred by a good friend at Universal (until he just busted out). The two bodies of rights I’m working on are life rights and music clearance. Here are some highlights [up front, let me point you to Michael Donaldson’s straightforward book, Clearance & Copyright: Everything the Independent Filmmaker Needs to Know. It’s not flawless, but it’s certainly an informative reference for getting up to speed. It doesn’t replace a lawyer, but it’s quickly useful for working with one. And if you’re serious about making and showing a film, you shouldn’t go forward without at least talking to a lawyer at some point.]
Life rights are a perpetually ambiguous aspect of the filmmaking process. I’m trying to determine the most feasible approach to life rights for the new feature project, an (at least partially) animated musical. The key benefits of life rights seem to be 1) getting co-operation and insight from a party, which could improve the accuracy and entertainment value of the project, and 2) lawsuit insurance, since a valid life rights sale basically precludes any chance someone has to sue you for making a movie based on their life.
There are plenty of ways to make a movie without life rights, of course; the Law & Order universe clearly thrives without them. It ultimately comes down to the equations used by potential backers and distributors, who will weigh the value (or cost) of having (or not having) life rights agreements in place.
Some execs flatly state that rights must be in place before they’ll even consider a project; not having them is one sign of amateurism and a definite red flag. [Here is a Q&A with Angelique Higgins, the VP of Pierce Brosnan’s production company. Go down about 60% for the answer I’m referring to.] The story of Brandon Teena and Boys Don’t Cry shows however, that people are happy to move forward–even to rush forward– without rights in place if the project is hot enough. [Here is one account of the rights race around Teena’s story, but just about any of the Google results make for interesting reading.] The conclusion: you absolutely need life rights for a project. Except when you don’t.
Music clearance is at once more humorous and more grim. I don’t know if advice is suddenly coming in from everywhere, or if I just think everyone’s staring at me, knowingly. Whichever, the Slamdance FAQ came through twice with some good, hard advice: In Part 1, they talk about “festival rights” vs comprehensive usage agreements; a lot of short films screen with festival rights in the hope that a distributor or whoever will pony up the dough to get the full music rights or to remix the music altogether. “So what happens is that those music issues will often single-handedly preclude a film from getting distribution.” Hmm. No icebox.com for you. Do not pass go.com, to not collect $200. Instead, “using original music from your uncle’s Bar Mitzvah band is usually the best bet.” And in Part 2, there’s this great bit of advice on filling out the festival application:
Q: Where it says music, is that the composer or what band is on the soundtrack?
A: It can be either. But if you’ve got the Rolling Stones on your temp track and don’t have the rights, it’s best to stop kidding yourself and stick to your cousin Joey as the composer.
And the only article from Filmmaker Magazine I haven’t mentioned yet (until now, that is), talks about the dangers of “falling in love with your temp track.” It’s apparently too easy and too common to spot indie films that have been edited to the soundtrack of The Mission. You can buy it here. As if you didn’t have it already… Donaldson’s book also has a very useful, sobering read about getting rights squared away and the importance of sticking to the letter of the agreements. Music clearance services never looked so good to me as they do now.
The Takeaway: Tracks on Souvenir where we’re already making progress on securing rights will stay, but the ones I’ve been deluding myself on (Pink Floyd’s Heart Beat, Pig Meat and Wu Tang) are O-U-T, or O-T-W (On The Way), anyway. My Zabriskie Point/Antonioni homage will have to come from the box office instead (D’oh!).
Poking around Slamdance’s website to
Poking around Slamdance’s website to get my submission stuff ready. It’s HI-larious, obviously made by someone who pokes around dry film festival websites for a living. That led me to Bitter Films, where Don Hertzfeldt flogs and writes about his animated shorts and celebrates “107 awards, four Grand Prizes, and a rather spooky cult following.” There’s a production journal, which looks good, if a little random. (Pot, Kettle. Kettle, Pot. I know.) Gotta keep the random quotient high to please the cult followers.
Not only did I finish
Not only did I finish all the tweak editing I mentioned earlier, the momentum picked up. I worked on the pacing of some dialogue scenes, changing some breaths/gaps and taking out a few tiny lines here and there. It makes a noticeable difference (noticeable if you’ve seen the movie a hundred times; otherwise, it’s just smooth.) I was a little wary, though, since I just read an interview with Soderbergh Filmmaker Magazine. Talks about The Limey writer Lem Dobbs, who “fumes at Soderbergh for gutting his script to such an extent that Dobbs was blamed by critics for the thinness of the characters and the lack of backstory.” [It’s in the DVD commentary; buy it yourself and find out. I did.] Then I redesigned the credits, added some parentheses to the title. (It’s been Souvenir (November 2001) on a few submissions lately.) For good measure, I made a few audio level adjustments, pulling up some lines that could get a little lost.
Everything went well, smoothly. Output my new master and slave DV copies, WHICH WERE BLANK when I got them home for dubbing. Apparently, FCP didn’t recognize the camera. CHECK YOUR TAPES BEFORE YOU LEAVE. Now I’ve gotta make an emergency run Fri. morning to re-output it. It looked good, though, and it felt good to be squarely in the “making” process again, even if it’s only for a day
Back in March when we
Back in March when we were editing Souvenir November 2001, we spent some grim days dealing with sound. We’d recorded audio on the DV camera and on Mini-Disc (not DAT), using slate (not timecodes) to sync the sound. Then at the last minute we had problems loading the MD’s into Final Cut Pro and had to transfer them to CD. Sync’ing the audio was supposed to be easy, but it was a huge pain. Why mention this now?
In the newest issue of Filmmaker Magazine, there’s a roundtable with Steven Soderbergh’s team from Full Frontal where they talk shop. Here’s what Susan Littenberg (1st asst. ed.) says they did (note: they had two Final Cut Pro systems, which sounds luxe.):
In the last paragraph: “Is there anything that you can think of that filmmakers should avoid? Any advice you can give filmmakers before they get started on a project like Full Frontal?”
“Don’t sync audio to video in Final Cut! Take the extra time up front to do the sync dailies and reload them.”
Two takeaways: 1) We’re doin’ it more Soderbergh-style than we’d imagined (or wanted to, frankly), and 2) Finish the article before you start typing your weblog entry.
Hmm. At the end of
Hmm. At the end of this Salon interview with independent director Tom diCillo, he says, “The greatest luxury is being able to get on the set. I would do it for no money. I love doing it. I love it.” Right below it is a link to an older interview with diCillo “on the ‘tedious, boring, painful experience’ of making an independent film.”
New Project: Did I mention
New Project: Did I mention it’s animated? Actually, yeah, I did. Indirectly, anyway. Did I mention it’s a musical? Umm, yeah. Well, I’ve been researching anime, animation production, CG, and techniques today. Here are some interesting links I’ve assembled so far:
Gabriel Orozco at Documenta 11
Contrary to one writer’s opinion, Gabriel Orozco is a Mexican who can make pottery. After seeing Peter Schjeldahl’s misguided critique of Orozco’s work at Documenta 11 cited on ArtKrush to support an even broad(er)side on the state of contemporary art, I have to call bulls*** [Sorry, Mom.] on the whole thing.
Orozco’s Documenta 11 installation, Cazuelas (Beginnings), is comprised of “thrown” clay bowls. While the clay was still wet, Orozco threw smaller balls of clay into the bowls, where they were embedded like embryos in a uterine wall. The artist left deep fingermarks on the rims of some bowls, traces of where he lifted or deformed the “finished” product. Regarding this work, Schjeldahl claims Orozco’s “lively formal ideas are blunted by the artist’s rudimentary skills.” Zooming out, this supposed failure, then, “makes the point that in today’s convulsive world everyone must learn new things. I was obliged to include myself: a New York art critic who left Kassel feeling uncomfortably marginalized.” Well, if you’re marginalized, please don’t blame it on Gabriel Orozco, whose work is, in fact, the exact opposite of “blunted,” “rudimentary,” and a “first effort.” Beginnings extends ideas and techniques Orozco has been working with for over ten years: the transformation of the humblest material by the touch, gesture, or glance of the artist.
At frenchculture.org is an image of My Hands are My Heart, a 1991 work where Orozco cradles a transformed ball of clay in his hands. Here is an image of Made in Belgium, which was shown in Orozco’s seminal 1993 exhibit at Galerie Chantal Crousel (which also included La DS, his famously altered Citroen). Just before these roof tiles entered the kiln, Orozco grabbed and distorted them, leaving his gesture (and even his fingerprints) on the clay. And in 1999, he showed Pinched, seductive aluminum forms cast from heavily kneaded clay. Orozco’s work at Documenta is more a culmination than a first effort, and his skills are anything but rudimentary; they’ve been honed in the public eye for at least eleven years. So if you’re looking to throw something at contemporary art, don’t take aim at Gabriel Orozco; you’ll wind up hitting yourself.
Editing: After a couple of
Editing: After a couple of false starts, we’re finally set to make the editing tweaks on Souvenir November 2001 this week. (Since I only have FCP 1.0 loaded, and the project got saved in 3.0, I couldn’t open it without 3.0.) We really worked to balance the documentary “vocabulary” of the movie, that is, the degree to which the filmmaking process asserts itself: lighting quality, high-contrast exposure rates, handheld camera movement, crew and equipment appearances. Post-preview screening, we heard strong reactions to the contrast between “performed” scenes and “documented” scenes which went to the heart of the story. The two major editing tweaks deal with this balance:
The changes should only add 15-20 seconds or so to the film. Now that it’s not constrained by the Cannes 15-minute limit, it’s fine. Also, we’ll output it to DVD and Beta SP for the first time–a definitive version, suitable for screening at your local film festival (local if you live in Park City or one of the places listed at left). Stay tuned.
How Kevin Smith may be the Most Important Filmmaker on The Internet
Kevin Smith‘s irreverent but brilliant Dogma just ended on Comedy Central (albeit in highly edited form). I sat behind Smith and his posse when it premiered at the 1999 NY Film Festival, but I haven’t seen it since. It really is great–a serious exploration of real issues of faith in an unexpected way (and by an under-the-radar believer). Smith is certainly an influence in terms of his career and his smart use of the net–via his View Askew site–to connect with his audience, if not in his actual films. Don’t get me wrong; I love his movies, but I haven’t really studied them. Here is Kevin’s online production diary from Dogma. Begun in March 1998, it’s the earliest moviemaking “weblog” I’ve found.
Unlike Schoolhouse Rock, this song has no impact on my desire to write a musical
When I posted on kottke.org about “Fifty Nifty United States,” I gave a link with the lyrics and a Real Audio file. here is that link.
Stupid Flash Tricks: South Park character generator
Apropos of nothing other than the weekend: Create a South Park version of yourself We did.
On Maya Lin’s ninja-like approach to the WTC Memorial
There’s an interesting article by Louis Menand in this week’s New Yorker about Maya Lin called “The Reluctant Memorialist.” He talks about her early rejection of any WTC Memorial-related requests and about her recent informal advisory work for the decisionmakers (as someone who’s “been through the process.”) In talking about Lin’s reticence and justifiable anger at the Viet Nam memorial process (which sounds horrific, frankly, and doesn’t give me too much hope for New York City’s efforts), it’s strange that Menand doesn’t quote from or even mention Lin’s own essay, written in 1982 but only published in 2000. [It was in the NY Review of Books and in Boundaries, a book published by Lin about her work.]
As you may know (if you’ve seen Souvenir or read the script), Lin figures into the story as an plot point and motivation; also, the Sir Edwin Lutyens memorial in the movie was cited by Lin and her teachers at Yale as a source for her VN design. That connection is also oddly absent from Menand’s article, whereas Richard Serra does get a mention, even though Lin professed to having never seen Serra’s work before designing the memorial.
On July Fourth, I watched a lot of movies and called it research. (But don’t hate me; one was Flashdance)
For the new project (comments to follow):