Time will undoubtedly pass. In the two weeks just gone, how much have you written? How much have you read? How many movies have you seen? How many ideas have you put into action?
I was talking to someone last night whose Dad is a much loved film actor. And this weird thing happens when people make it big; everyone assumes they were always doing well, always the lucky ones. They think Brad Pitt was born as Brad Pitt the movie star, they have no inkling as to the amount of work that goes into a career.
If you're 20 and waiting to be discovered, forget about it. Whether you get discovered or not isn't the point -- the point is to get great at what you do.
You don't need to protect a reputation you haven't built yet. You don't need damage control when nobody cares about you anyway. Your job isn't to build an image of perfect movie star potential, your job is to make shit movies, to desperately need the work, to fight endlessly for the tiny pieces of progression.
Knowledge and experience count for everything.
You're meant to make shit films that you share on Facebook. You're allowed to perform plays in dives to empty chairs. Paying your dues isn't some abstract concept, it's the heart of this industry. If you haven't got footage out there you're deeply embarrassed about, then you're not really an actor or director.
If you're complaining on Facebook that nobody wants to pay you to act or write, you're just not at that level yet. You could bitch on Twitter, OR you could develop your own comedy character, write five pages and read an autobiography of someone who has been there and done it.
And sure, you say you've done all this and still you're not where you want to be. Well you're just not there yet! If you want steady progression, work in a supermarket, they have a fast-track programme to make you a manager in six months. Or if you want to earn money, work in finance!
Talent alone is not enough. X Factor and The Voice are selling you a false idea. I was working with kids in school recently, and they kept asking me, "how do I get famous?" They thought that was the ideal. But I know famous people. The thing they hate most about their lives is that they're famous - because they can't buy a can of beans with being approached, harassed, scrutinised.
All of the best artists struggled. For years. Everyone I meet, including the people I interview on this site, they went through piles of dogshit to get to where they are.
Of course it will get you down. You'll get depressed and lose your creative juice. Why do you think I didn't blog for three months?
But you get back up, stronger and more knowledgeable than ever before.
This is a tough industry, but you win out in the end through knowledge mixed with enthusiasm and, of course, longevity.
Friday, 29 March 2013
Wednesday, 27 March 2013
It'll All Work Out
'It'll All Work Out', by Tom Petty. Such a heartbreaking song.
"When she needed me I wasn't round, that's the way it goes, it'll all work out."
One moment everything is so intense and then before you know it she's gone, you're gone, and it was just some time in life you once knew. Some time when you wasn't really there for her. You thought you were, but looking back, you see it from her angle.
"Better off with him than here with me."
They think you're the one. She thinks, "How could there ever be a time when you're not the one I call?" But they move on and find a new person to call home and you're just a long gone memory of some year gone by before they met the person they were really meant to meet.
"There were times apart, there were times together, I was pledged to her for worse or better."
Most of the time it isn't fear of commitment. It's fear of the other person breaking from the commitment and being okay with it. And off they go into a different life.
"Now the wind is high, and the rain is heavy, and the water's rising in the levy."
Life goes on. The wind blows as you're caught out in the rainswept streets, fully aware you're only a human being, crashing up against the pouring rain as you wonder why you still think of her.
"Still I think of her when the sun goes down, never goes away but it all works out."
It all works out in bittersweet many years after the fact ways.
"She had eyes so blue they looked like weather."
You never forget a girl like that, collapsing into your life, firing up your insides and making everything seem somehow so painfully and aggravatingly alive. And you knew at the time the hours were borrowed and then years later she is off out there doing whatever it is she's doing, a gone wild happy magic superstar in the night and you're stumbling home in the London rain.
The last minute of the song doesn't need any words, it's the journey. The bittersweet sound of time gone and places to go and exactly where you are right now.
It'll all work out.
One moment everything is so intense and then before you know it she's gone, you're gone, and it was just some time in life you once knew. Some time when you wasn't really there for her. You thought you were, but looking back, you see it from her angle.
"Better off with him than here with me."
They think you're the one. She thinks, "How could there ever be a time when you're not the one I call?" But they move on and find a new person to call home and you're just a long gone memory of some year gone by before they met the person they were really meant to meet.
"There were times apart, there were times together, I was pledged to her for worse or better."
Most of the time it isn't fear of commitment. It's fear of the other person breaking from the commitment and being okay with it. And off they go into a different life.
"Now the wind is high, and the rain is heavy, and the water's rising in the levy."
Life goes on. The wind blows as you're caught out in the rainswept streets, fully aware you're only a human being, crashing up against the pouring rain as you wonder why you still think of her.
"Still I think of her when the sun goes down, never goes away but it all works out."
It all works out in bittersweet many years after the fact ways.
"She had eyes so blue they looked like weather."
You never forget a girl like that, collapsing into your life, firing up your insides and making everything seem somehow so painfully and aggravatingly alive. And you knew at the time the hours were borrowed and then years later she is off out there doing whatever it is she's doing, a gone wild happy magic superstar in the night and you're stumbling home in the London rain.
The last minute of the song doesn't need any words, it's the journey. The bittersweet sound of time gone and places to go and exactly where you are right now.
It'll all work out.
Tuesday, 26 March 2013
Five Question Interview With Writer/Director GARY KING
Last year, at the Raindance Film Festival, there was a definite buzz about the film 'How Do You Write A Joe Schermann Song'. On top of that, a bunch of my friends told me that I just had to see it. And then, because I'm a stupid idiot who reacts badly to being told what to do, I skipped it. And then it went on to win Best Film at the festival.
It seems that the writer/director, GARY KING, has forgiven me after all - and is now here to tell us a bit more about his movie.
We missed each other at Raindance. I went and saw something else when I had the opportunity to see your movie --- I didn't like that film and yours went on to win best film! Tell me a little about what I missed and what your experience was like in the UK.
I'm sorry we missed each other. We'll have to change that on my next visit out there.
I like to think of our film as a realistic portrayal of the life of a struggling artist and how he deals with balancing relationships and artistic integrity, told through the backdrop of Broadway. Audiences love seeing it on the big screen and always compare it to going to a Broadway show. I'm very proud of the songs and performances the actors all give.
My wife (Susie King), Christina Rose (lead actress) and myself truly enjoyed our London visit and screening at Raindance. It was definitely a once in a lifetime experience culminating in winning the Film of the Festival. We never expected that to happen. One of the best parts of the festival was meeting the festival organizers and programmers, the wonderful audiences and other filmmakers.
I love the trailer. Did you cut it yourself? I think it's really hard for trailers to capture indie films; because they don't tend to have those obvious moments like the bigger movies-- y'know, the car crashes and explosions. How was your trailer put together?
Thanks for the kind words. I did cut it myself. To me, the trailer is a whole other art form where different rules and aesthetics apply. Its philosophy and approach totally contrast the narrative long form. I definitely watch a ton of trailers and bookmark the ones that stand out to me. I studied. their structure, taking note of how many music cues there are, when dialogue is spoken, pacing, length of shots. There were two articles that served as great resources for me:
http://filmmakermagazine.com/37093-first-impressions/
http://workbookproject.com/blog/2008/12/31/new-breed-cutting-an-effective-indie-trailer/
I think we're in an interesting era for film directors. A director can finish a feature and then go and do a short, as you're doing -- and then maybe work on something very different. The world is changing and the rules are constantly being broken. What has inspired you most about this era we're in-- and what has scared you the most?
I remember having a meeting with film producer Ted Hope a few years ago where he gave some good advice about not being stuck in one "format" of storytelling that could limit your potential audience reach. He suggested that along with features, not to be afraid of going back to short form storytelling; be it in film, a web series and/or other creative outlets.
I'm very lucky that following SCHERMANN SONG, I was approached to direct a short film. At first, I was hesitant about going back to shorts having done features... but seeing many high-profile feature film directors tackle short films, commercials and other things it made me think twice about my attitude. And it's actually tough -- maybe even almost tougher -- to tell an effective story in a short amount of time, which was a challenge I welcomed. The problem with a lot of short films is the filmmaker is just dying to make a feature and its running time shows that. For me, having made features, I don't have that issue anymore, so my goal is to be short and sweet.
Kickstarter had only been around a year or so when you used it to fund your movie. Do you think you could have made the film without it? And where did most of the money come from -- was it friends, or strangers? Do you have any tips for people setting out to raise money by crowdfunding?
We were very lucky in that we had our campaign very early on where people didn't even know what Kickstarter was. I think literally there were less than 10 film campaigns when we did ours. Thankfully my creative team and I have a fairly large social media network, so we never personally met the majority of our generous backers. It was pretty amazing and humbling to get that kind of support.
The crowdfunding landscape has changed so much that I don't feel I can give proper advice on what to do. I can offer that one has to be very genuine and really show that they care about their project. I see many campaigns now where it seems that just by launching them online they expect money to come rolling in... and that rarely happens.
Do you think the success of your film has given you more opportunities? People have this idea of the 'big break', which I always think people need to be cautious about -- but I'd love to hear your views.
I've been making films for 9 years and feel that SCHERMANN SONG has just gotten my big toe in the door -- at least the doors are opening now. Thanks to the film's success, I definitely have been meeting more and more people interested in what I'm doing now.
And it's a wonderful feeling to have investors come on board believing in the next project I'm planning to shoot this summer. I have a long way to go to be where I want to be both career wise and creatively as a filmmaker. However, I'm getting paid to do what I love, so there's nothing better than that.
Support independent film and Purchase/Rent 'How Do You Write A Joe Schermann Song'. It's available on DVD, Blu-ray, iTunes, Games Consoles, Netflix, and many more places. You can get the film HERE.
It seems that the writer/director, GARY KING, has forgiven me after all - and is now here to tell us a bit more about his movie.
We missed each other at Raindance. I went and saw something else when I had the opportunity to see your movie --- I didn't like that film and yours went on to win best film! Tell me a little about what I missed and what your experience was like in the UK.
I'm sorry we missed each other. We'll have to change that on my next visit out there.
I like to think of our film as a realistic portrayal of the life of a struggling artist and how he deals with balancing relationships and artistic integrity, told through the backdrop of Broadway. Audiences love seeing it on the big screen and always compare it to going to a Broadway show. I'm very proud of the songs and performances the actors all give.
My wife (Susie King), Christina Rose (lead actress) and myself truly enjoyed our London visit and screening at Raindance. It was definitely a once in a lifetime experience culminating in winning the Film of the Festival. We never expected that to happen. One of the best parts of the festival was meeting the festival organizers and programmers, the wonderful audiences and other filmmakers.
I love the trailer. Did you cut it yourself? I think it's really hard for trailers to capture indie films; because they don't tend to have those obvious moments like the bigger movies-- y'know, the car crashes and explosions. How was your trailer put together?
Thanks for the kind words. I did cut it myself. To me, the trailer is a whole other art form where different rules and aesthetics apply. Its philosophy and approach totally contrast the narrative long form. I definitely watch a ton of trailers and bookmark the ones that stand out to me. I studied. their structure, taking note of how many music cues there are, when dialogue is spoken, pacing, length of shots. There were two articles that served as great resources for me:
http://filmmakermagazine.com/37093-first-impressions/
http://workbookproject.com/blog/2008/12/31/new-breed-cutting-an-effective-indie-trailer/
I think we're in an interesting era for film directors. A director can finish a feature and then go and do a short, as you're doing -- and then maybe work on something very different. The world is changing and the rules are constantly being broken. What has inspired you most about this era we're in-- and what has scared you the most?
I remember having a meeting with film producer Ted Hope a few years ago where he gave some good advice about not being stuck in one "format" of storytelling that could limit your potential audience reach. He suggested that along with features, not to be afraid of going back to short form storytelling; be it in film, a web series and/or other creative outlets.
I'm very lucky that following SCHERMANN SONG, I was approached to direct a short film. At first, I was hesitant about going back to shorts having done features... but seeing many high-profile feature film directors tackle short films, commercials and other things it made me think twice about my attitude. And it's actually tough -- maybe even almost tougher -- to tell an effective story in a short amount of time, which was a challenge I welcomed. The problem with a lot of short films is the filmmaker is just dying to make a feature and its running time shows that. For me, having made features, I don't have that issue anymore, so my goal is to be short and sweet.
Kickstarter had only been around a year or so when you used it to fund your movie. Do you think you could have made the film without it? And where did most of the money come from -- was it friends, or strangers? Do you have any tips for people setting out to raise money by crowdfunding?
We were very lucky in that we had our campaign very early on where people didn't even know what Kickstarter was. I think literally there were less than 10 film campaigns when we did ours. Thankfully my creative team and I have a fairly large social media network, so we never personally met the majority of our generous backers. It was pretty amazing and humbling to get that kind of support.
The crowdfunding landscape has changed so much that I don't feel I can give proper advice on what to do. I can offer that one has to be very genuine and really show that they care about their project. I see many campaigns now where it seems that just by launching them online they expect money to come rolling in... and that rarely happens.
Do you think the success of your film has given you more opportunities? People have this idea of the 'big break', which I always think people need to be cautious about -- but I'd love to hear your views.
I've been making films for 9 years and feel that SCHERMANN SONG has just gotten my big toe in the door -- at least the doors are opening now. Thanks to the film's success, I definitely have been meeting more and more people interested in what I'm doing now.
And it's a wonderful feeling to have investors come on board believing in the next project I'm planning to shoot this summer. I have a long way to go to be where I want to be both career wise and creatively as a filmmaker. However, I'm getting paid to do what I love, so there's nothing better than that.
Support independent film and Purchase/Rent 'How Do You Write A Joe Schermann Song'. It's available on DVD, Blu-ray, iTunes, Games Consoles, Netflix, and many more places. You can get the film HERE.
Sunday, 24 March 2013
Concentration, And Other Things, Probably
It's so hard these days, to watch a movie, to read a book, to hold a conversation. I want to run so fast into so many corners; climb the hills and dive into ideas and scramble through every ambition I find I have.
Every film is so long, I want them over in two minutes so I can be on to the next thing. But two minutes is so short, I want to watch a twenty hour movie. I want to watch a twenty hour movie and at the same time make twenty movies and write fifteen screenplays and argue with the girl I like and sleep but stay awake the whole time because there's just so many things I want to do.
And most days, I feel like there's nothing I want to do. What do I really want to achieve? I don't know. But then we go for coffee and I tell you I want to move to New York and move to Australia and explore Africa and cycle in Amsterdam. I want to write a film, direct a web-series, produce a TV show. Sometimes I want to do it all so much, other times I want to sink away because I don't know what I want to do with life.
And most of the time I'm achieving nothing. Until someone reminds me I've achieved so much of everything.
So I think about doing less, so I can focus on more. But other times I'm almost sure I'm doing nothing and need to put more thought into absolutely everything.
It's good to look back. What were you doing three years or only three months ago? How far have you come? What new stuff do you know?
I write better I eat better and I care better. And slowly things make more sense, even though often they make less sense.
I have no clarity mixed with absolute and complete clarity.
I want to meditate. I want to relax. I want a beach.
But I want to edit in the morning, direct in the afternoon, write before dinner and then have a meeting for dessert. I want it all. I want nothing. I don't know and I don't know and do I ever know?
Every film is so long, I want them over in two minutes so I can be on to the next thing. But two minutes is so short, I want to watch a twenty hour movie. I want to watch a twenty hour movie and at the same time make twenty movies and write fifteen screenplays and argue with the girl I like and sleep but stay awake the whole time because there's just so many things I want to do.
And most days, I feel like there's nothing I want to do. What do I really want to achieve? I don't know. But then we go for coffee and I tell you I want to move to New York and move to Australia and explore Africa and cycle in Amsterdam. I want to write a film, direct a web-series, produce a TV show. Sometimes I want to do it all so much, other times I want to sink away because I don't know what I want to do with life.
And most of the time I'm achieving nothing. Until someone reminds me I've achieved so much of everything.
So I think about doing less, so I can focus on more. But other times I'm almost sure I'm doing nothing and need to put more thought into absolutely everything.
It's good to look back. What were you doing three years or only three months ago? How far have you come? What new stuff do you know?
I write better I eat better and I care better. And slowly things make more sense, even though often they make less sense.
I have no clarity mixed with absolute and complete clarity.
I want to meditate. I want to relax. I want a beach.
But I want to edit in the morning, direct in the afternoon, write before dinner and then have a meeting for dessert. I want it all. I want nothing. I don't know and I don't know and do I ever know?
Monday, 11 March 2013
The Shakespeare's Globe Theatre Tour
So, I knew the Globe wasn't really the Globe, but I thought it was at least on the original site. It turns out that the real Globe was down the road somewhere but they decided to build the replica by the water because, as our tour guide explained, "we quite like being by the Thames actually".
That was the tour guide's biggest insight of the thirty minutes we were graced with her presence.
See, it wasn't actually a tour at all. Rehearsals were going on inside, so the chirpy guide told us we were not allowed to talk or take pictures when inside the theatre.
So most of it happened outside of the replica Globe. We all gathered in front of a coffee stand while she explained a little --- and by a little I mean, very little, about the theatre and its history.
Then we went into the Globe and watched rehearsals for five minutes, after which we were shuffled out; silenced and pictureless.
She explained a few more things, like where to find the gift shop.
Then, sensing we were all disgruntled, she allowed us to trundle back inside to sit and watch for five more minutes. The actors were gone, but a drummer was testing his kit as a another guy drilled something into the side of the stage.
Then we were bundled out into the cold. Tour over.
When you pay for a tour, you have a level of expectation, like maybe you'll get shown around. Everything she told us about the site happened outside, afterwards. Sure, it's interesting to hear about the origins of the pillars and the thatched roof-- but not when you're cornered off by the gift shop without even a photograph to refer to.
Maybe the tour is always this bad. Or maybe their freedom of movement is severely limited during rehearsals but they still want to make a buck.
I can deal with the fact that there is no evidence of Shakespeare's writing or authorship. I can handle the fact that this incarnation of the Globe is a fake, in a random spot, based on a mere guess as to what the Globe was like. I would be able to deal with all of that stuff, if they would at least give us a decent tour. If we could at least ask questions inside the theatre.
Apparently, back in the Shakespeare's heyday, entrance to see a play cost one penny. In this day and age, of course, you can't expect to see a performance for that price. But for the Globe tour? It's probably about right.
That was the tour guide's biggest insight of the thirty minutes we were graced with her presence.
See, it wasn't actually a tour at all. Rehearsals were going on inside, so the chirpy guide told us we were not allowed to talk or take pictures when inside the theatre.
So most of it happened outside of the replica Globe. We all gathered in front of a coffee stand while she explained a little --- and by a little I mean, very little, about the theatre and its history.
Then we went into the Globe and watched rehearsals for five minutes, after which we were shuffled out; silenced and pictureless.
She explained a few more things, like where to find the gift shop.
Then, sensing we were all disgruntled, she allowed us to trundle back inside to sit and watch for five more minutes. The actors were gone, but a drummer was testing his kit as a another guy drilled something into the side of the stage.
Then we were bundled out into the cold. Tour over.
When you pay for a tour, you have a level of expectation, like maybe you'll get shown around. Everything she told us about the site happened outside, afterwards. Sure, it's interesting to hear about the origins of the pillars and the thatched roof-- but not when you're cornered off by the gift shop without even a photograph to refer to.
Maybe the tour is always this bad. Or maybe their freedom of movement is severely limited during rehearsals but they still want to make a buck.
I can deal with the fact that there is no evidence of Shakespeare's writing or authorship. I can handle the fact that this incarnation of the Globe is a fake, in a random spot, based on a mere guess as to what the Globe was like. I would be able to deal with all of that stuff, if they would at least give us a decent tour. If we could at least ask questions inside the theatre.
Apparently, back in the Shakespeare's heyday, entrance to see a play cost one penny. In this day and age, of course, you can't expect to see a performance for that price. But for the Globe tour? It's probably about right.
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