So there was a conversation the other day. Well, of course there was. People talk, after all. However, this was a conversation concerning an aspiring filmmaker who, like many aspiring filmmakers, views himself as an "artist." In and of itself, there's nothing wrong with being an artist in the film world, but the connotation of the concept is what is a large problem in that particular industry.
You see, the "artists" tend to fancy themselves as not just artists, but as "the next big thing" (oh, if only they could get noticed... yeah, that old story). We're talking "the next Spielberg," "the next Scorsese," "the next Woody Allen," and the list goes on. Lofty goals, sure, and there's nothing wrong with lofty goals, but therein lies the rub: up-and-comers tend to think that Spielberg, Scorsese, and Woody Allen did everything by themselves. As a result, said up-and-comer (and I'm using that term very generously) tries to do everything by himself or herself. And, guess what? Film, unlike some other art forms, doesn't work that way.
Film. Is. Collaboration.
Film is not painting. It is not sculpture. It is not music. One person is not responsible for the idea, the production and creation, and the exhibition of the artwork. In all likelihood, the director is not the writer, the writer is not the cinematographer, the cinematographer is not the actor, and the actor is not the editor. Yes, there are notable exceptions involving multi-tasking, but NONE of those exceptions involved a filmmaker doing everything. Quite simply, that's next to impossible (unless we're talking some sort of auteur-driven avant garde film, but we're not... we're talking film as it pertains to the film industry). Even arguing the Bachs and Beethovens of the music world you have to account for the Yo-Yo Mas and the Itzhak Perlmans.
This all seems obvious, I'm sure, and I'm equally sure that if you're still reading this, you're wondering where the Hell I'm going with it. Here's where: the propensity of young "independent" filmmakers to attempt total control of a project has to stop. This propensity, as I've probably failed at alluding to, comes from the propensity to want to be "artists" above all else.
All too often you will find a young (and probably talented) aspiring filmmaker who wants to make "my project." In other words, that filmmaker wants to A) write the script, B) rewrite the script, C) lock the shooting script, D) produce the film, E) direct the film, F) shoot the film, G) star in the film, H) edit the film, and I) sell, distribute, and market the film.
Pardon my French, but: get. fucking. real.
Even George Lucas, that all-too banal overrated filmmaker (though an outstanding film businessman and innovator, if not the best), once said that writing, directing, and producing a film (the original Star Wars... oh, the irony) was one role too many. And, despite my disdain for admitting such, he was and remains right.
Now, opponents of this argument will no doubt point to Steven Soderbergh, Robert Rodriguez, Quentin Tarantino, and countless others, but even those examples all freely admit to the collaborative nature of filmmaking. Look how much credit QT gives to Uma Thurman for the Kill Bill series. Find out how much credit Rodriguez gives to Tarantino on various film, never mind how much he gives to Frank Miller for Sin City.
The inconvenient truth here is that few of us are as good as any of the people mentioned above, and what aspiring filmmakers need to realize is that their talents probably lie in a specific aspect of filmmaking. Which means that they need to find other aspiring filmmakers whose talents lie in those aspects that they themselves are lacking.
In other words, the next time someone says "I've got my own project," let them know that a film - both before it's completed and after it's distributed - is never artistically owned by one person. It just doesn't happen. And it probably never will.
So... who wants to get a project going?
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Monday, March 19, 2007
A Profoundness in Film
Prior to September 11th, 2001, there was always that occasional film that critics would proclaim as an insight into the world, into humanity. Usually, these films would be nominated for an Academy Award or twelve, and they would fade away into the obscurity of a small box office followed by a resurrection of sorts into curricula the world over for film students. But, at least for the moments that belonged to them, those films would make an impact. Maybe lasting, maybe not. Regardless, someone would probably shout out that this film would change the world. Ultimately, however, it wouldn't, but its lingering frames of celluloid relevant vision would remain in the thoughts and imaginations of the next generation of filmmakers, resulting in yet another "temporarily profound" film venture.
After that infamous date, however, it seems that more and more of these films are making their way into the consciousness of the various pop cultures of the world, and, for better or worse, staying there. It has long been held by the intellectual elite of this world that we are mortal. We live, we die, and with the exception of a few great or heinous people, we are forgotten. Lately, though, this mortal perspective has been passed on to our entire planet, our very species. We are dying as an element of the universe; we are killing ourselves.
Terrorism and the environment lead our headlines. We are in a constant situation of, no matter what we do as individuals, our fates lie in the hands of others. As a result, our art, specifically our film, is beginning to reflect that reluctant nihilism that we are all a part of. We can be killed walking down our own streets, working in our own offices. Indeed, we will be killed walking down streets of foreign lands; breathing the air and drinking the water of our future. Our existence is coming to a head and, for whatever reason, be it profit or a genuine sense of love, Hollywood is trying to warn us.
Take a mere slice of the recent films that have graced the silver screen: Babel, Children of Men, even Al Gore's foray into film, An Inconvenient Truth. Warnings all. They make no effort to disguise their intents. We need to change, and change now, or we're all fucked.
It's almost irony that in a world where people are living longer, our lives can change in less time than ever before. In one second, a building can fall. In one second, a species can be erased from history. In one second, a life can begin and end.
Art has long held the key with which people react to their environments. Almost anybody with half an education can name a painting whose inspiration was death and destruction. Monkeys can probably spout the titles of no less than a dozen so-called war songs. Even the theatre has lent its hand, withered hand it is. But politics? How many people know the history of politics? The great decisions in the last century that led us to where we are today? Not many. Pop culture, it seems, is far more important to most citizens, especially of this country, than any other subject. And finally, Hollywood has taken notice.
There was once a time that supposedly incendiary films were squashed, or relegated to the art house circuit. It wasn't too long ago that the original Manchurian Candidate was finally released after being hidden from public view since JFK's assassination. It wasn't too long ago that the filmmakers behind movies such as Brokeback Mountain would have been admonished. But now, there is an overwhelming sense that humanity is running out of time, and every topic the world over is being brought to the forefront, perhaps in vain attempts at vanity, but perhaps due to the necessity that we need to figure out what's really important right now.
We truly are in a strange new world. China is once again, after centuries of absence, a world power. America is no longer the moral leader and savior of the world. The Middle East, thanks to the proliferation of nuclear technology, is no longer a footprint in Imperial plans. Make no mistake, the power struggle for tomorrow's world is more volatile than it has ever been before. Unfortunately, the average yahoo on the street isn't capable of understanding the minutiae involved in running societies, despite the fact that every yahoo has a definitive opinion, however uneducated, of how such actions should be done.
Which leaves us with film. The ultimate art form. No other art form in the world has the ability to be as affective, nor as pervasive, as film. And, thankfully, we're starting to use it as such. A few years ago, nobody, save naturalists, probably even gave a damn about penguins, then March of the Penguins arrives. The drug trade was seen as black and white, then Traffic. Even television shows like Battlestar Galactica are joining the fray, portraying several sides of several arguments in dramatic ways that laymen can comprehend.
I usually hate it when Hollywood decides to rear its head into the political world, primarily because there was always an overt agenda. But, now I see the necessity of it all. The powerful will continue to maintain and gain power; the stupid will continue to become even more stupid. Hollywood can educate, should it want to. And I think it finally wants to.
Let's hope for the best. There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of time.
After that infamous date, however, it seems that more and more of these films are making their way into the consciousness of the various pop cultures of the world, and, for better or worse, staying there. It has long been held by the intellectual elite of this world that we are mortal. We live, we die, and with the exception of a few great or heinous people, we are forgotten. Lately, though, this mortal perspective has been passed on to our entire planet, our very species. We are dying as an element of the universe; we are killing ourselves.
Terrorism and the environment lead our headlines. We are in a constant situation of, no matter what we do as individuals, our fates lie in the hands of others. As a result, our art, specifically our film, is beginning to reflect that reluctant nihilism that we are all a part of. We can be killed walking down our own streets, working in our own offices. Indeed, we will be killed walking down streets of foreign lands; breathing the air and drinking the water of our future. Our existence is coming to a head and, for whatever reason, be it profit or a genuine sense of love, Hollywood is trying to warn us.
Take a mere slice of the recent films that have graced the silver screen: Babel, Children of Men, even Al Gore's foray into film, An Inconvenient Truth. Warnings all. They make no effort to disguise their intents. We need to change, and change now, or we're all fucked.
It's almost irony that in a world where people are living longer, our lives can change in less time than ever before. In one second, a building can fall. In one second, a species can be erased from history. In one second, a life can begin and end.
Art has long held the key with which people react to their environments. Almost anybody with half an education can name a painting whose inspiration was death and destruction. Monkeys can probably spout the titles of no less than a dozen so-called war songs. Even the theatre has lent its hand, withered hand it is. But politics? How many people know the history of politics? The great decisions in the last century that led us to where we are today? Not many. Pop culture, it seems, is far more important to most citizens, especially of this country, than any other subject. And finally, Hollywood has taken notice.
There was once a time that supposedly incendiary films were squashed, or relegated to the art house circuit. It wasn't too long ago that the original Manchurian Candidate was finally released after being hidden from public view since JFK's assassination. It wasn't too long ago that the filmmakers behind movies such as Brokeback Mountain would have been admonished. But now, there is an overwhelming sense that humanity is running out of time, and every topic the world over is being brought to the forefront, perhaps in vain attempts at vanity, but perhaps due to the necessity that we need to figure out what's really important right now.
We truly are in a strange new world. China is once again, after centuries of absence, a world power. America is no longer the moral leader and savior of the world. The Middle East, thanks to the proliferation of nuclear technology, is no longer a footprint in Imperial plans. Make no mistake, the power struggle for tomorrow's world is more volatile than it has ever been before. Unfortunately, the average yahoo on the street isn't capable of understanding the minutiae involved in running societies, despite the fact that every yahoo has a definitive opinion, however uneducated, of how such actions should be done.
Which leaves us with film. The ultimate art form. No other art form in the world has the ability to be as affective, nor as pervasive, as film. And, thankfully, we're starting to use it as such. A few years ago, nobody, save naturalists, probably even gave a damn about penguins, then March of the Penguins arrives. The drug trade was seen as black and white, then Traffic. Even television shows like Battlestar Galactica are joining the fray, portraying several sides of several arguments in dramatic ways that laymen can comprehend.
I usually hate it when Hollywood decides to rear its head into the political world, primarily because there was always an overt agenda. But, now I see the necessity of it all. The powerful will continue to maintain and gain power; the stupid will continue to become even more stupid. Hollywood can educate, should it want to. And I think it finally wants to.
Let's hope for the best. There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of time.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Advice for Artists
1. A friend of mine recently relayed a quote to me: "Amateurs do it for the art, artists do it for the money."
While you and I and your grandmother's lesbian cousin can argue the literalness of the above quote, what we can't argue is the cold hard truth that underlies it. The only people who can write, act, paint, sculpt, film, or sing for a living are those who can afford it. What's the joke? Oh, you're an actor? What restaurant?
The point: don't do whatever artistic endeavor you're trying to do unless you're doing it for the money. Sure, have the "love," but don't do it FOR the love. Not unless you're rich. Otherwise, you'll just sit idly by creating your unique artistic interpretations of life while the jackass who hacks out commercialized formula pieces gets rich and famous (and is recognized as an artist when he or she dies). While you... well, while you just disappear in obscurity, occasionally popping up in conversation at the dinner tables of your grandchildren.
2. "That which has been is that which shall be; and that which has been done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun." - Ecclesiastes 1:9
For contemporary artists, this quote from the Old Testament defines both the bane and the bliss of artistic motivation. Artists are usually so vain, that they try to not only be unique, but original as well. Well, guess what, buddy? What you create is unique by definition, but nothing you EVER create will ever be original.
Bullshit, you might say. But, let's use writers as an example (as I, myself, am a writer) to prove my point. There's a common maxim in the literary world that there are only seven stories. Seven. One more than six; one less than eight. Seven. ALL OTHER STORIES are rip-offs of these seven, no matter how hard you try to make your story "original." Sorry, it's just not happening.
Side note: Those stories, by the way, are Achilles, Cinderella, Circe, Faust, Orpheus, Romeo & Juliet, and Tristan & Isolde.
My point? The sooner you realize and accept that you're creating something derivative, the sooner you'll become a true artist.
3. "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." - popular maxim
This is both an entirely true and an entirely false statement. It is false in that those arrogant prima donnas who use the quote to ridicule teachers and editors have no idea what this quote actually means.
I've often said that there are three things to every thing: an art, a craft, and a science. From tying your shoes to having sex, from driving to cooking dinner, there is an artistic way, a practiced way, and a scientific way. Artists do something through talent and intuition. Craftsman do something through experience and comprehension. Scientists do something through research and procedure.
What am I getting at? Artists: leave the editing and the critiques to the editors and the critics (or, for those of you clever enough to follow along, the craftsmen and the scientists).
There's a reason that "artists" attend classes given by editors and critics. The editors and critics know what works. They know where to direct an artist's raw talent. Why? Because they read, they listen to music, they watch films, they observe the process of creating art, and they study the finished product. So the next time you feel like busting on somebody who's never been published, or never made a movie, or never released an album, keep in mind that he or she is one that will ultimately judge your work, study your work, and decide if your work fails or succeeds (by buying it).
4. "I have never met a man so ignorant that I couldn't learn something from him." - Galileo
This last point, for those of you that are still reading, is my justification for writing this little article. Basically... who the fuck am I to be giving such advice? While it's no secret that I am not the most popular published writer in the world, I do, unquestioningly, feel that I am qualified to say what I'm saying. Why? Well, even though I fancy myself a writer, the truth of the matter is that I'm far better at editing than I'll ever be at writing. There's also the matter of having studied creative writing, communications, literature, business, film, professional writing, and history. At any rate, one can boil my advice down to this: learn from everybody, even the "untalented." Expect comparisons, even to other artists that you don't particularly care for. And, for fuck's sake, create something you can sell. After all, what's the point of making a statement if nobody ever sees it?
While you and I and your grandmother's lesbian cousin can argue the literalness of the above quote, what we can't argue is the cold hard truth that underlies it. The only people who can write, act, paint, sculpt, film, or sing for a living are those who can afford it. What's the joke? Oh, you're an actor? What restaurant?
The point: don't do whatever artistic endeavor you're trying to do unless you're doing it for the money. Sure, have the "love," but don't do it FOR the love. Not unless you're rich. Otherwise, you'll just sit idly by creating your unique artistic interpretations of life while the jackass who hacks out commercialized formula pieces gets rich and famous (and is recognized as an artist when he or she dies). While you... well, while you just disappear in obscurity, occasionally popping up in conversation at the dinner tables of your grandchildren.
2. "That which has been is that which shall be; and that which has been done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun." - Ecclesiastes 1:9
For contemporary artists, this quote from the Old Testament defines both the bane and the bliss of artistic motivation. Artists are usually so vain, that they try to not only be unique, but original as well. Well, guess what, buddy? What you create is unique by definition, but nothing you EVER create will ever be original.
Bullshit, you might say. But, let's use writers as an example (as I, myself, am a writer) to prove my point. There's a common maxim in the literary world that there are only seven stories. Seven. One more than six; one less than eight. Seven. ALL OTHER STORIES are rip-offs of these seven, no matter how hard you try to make your story "original." Sorry, it's just not happening.
Side note: Those stories, by the way, are Achilles, Cinderella, Circe, Faust, Orpheus, Romeo & Juliet, and Tristan & Isolde.
My point? The sooner you realize and accept that you're creating something derivative, the sooner you'll become a true artist.
3. "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." - popular maxim
This is both an entirely true and an entirely false statement. It is false in that those arrogant prima donnas who use the quote to ridicule teachers and editors have no idea what this quote actually means.
I've often said that there are three things to every thing: an art, a craft, and a science. From tying your shoes to having sex, from driving to cooking dinner, there is an artistic way, a practiced way, and a scientific way. Artists do something through talent and intuition. Craftsman do something through experience and comprehension. Scientists do something through research and procedure.
What am I getting at? Artists: leave the editing and the critiques to the editors and the critics (or, for those of you clever enough to follow along, the craftsmen and the scientists).
There's a reason that "artists" attend classes given by editors and critics. The editors and critics know what works. They know where to direct an artist's raw talent. Why? Because they read, they listen to music, they watch films, they observe the process of creating art, and they study the finished product. So the next time you feel like busting on somebody who's never been published, or never made a movie, or never released an album, keep in mind that he or she is one that will ultimately judge your work, study your work, and decide if your work fails or succeeds (by buying it).
4. "I have never met a man so ignorant that I couldn't learn something from him." - Galileo
This last point, for those of you that are still reading, is my justification for writing this little article. Basically... who the fuck am I to be giving such advice? While it's no secret that I am not the most popular published writer in the world, I do, unquestioningly, feel that I am qualified to say what I'm saying. Why? Well, even though I fancy myself a writer, the truth of the matter is that I'm far better at editing than I'll ever be at writing. There's also the matter of having studied creative writing, communications, literature, business, film, professional writing, and history. At any rate, one can boil my advice down to this: learn from everybody, even the "untalented." Expect comparisons, even to other artists that you don't particularly care for. And, for fuck's sake, create something you can sell. After all, what's the point of making a statement if nobody ever sees it?
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