Great American Directors

There seems to be a propensity in Hollywood to seek out foreign talent. And, in point of fact, there is. Of course, this is not due to some overbearing conspiracy to "de-Americanize" the American film industry, it's merely the result of reaching out to aesthetically-different filmmakers and actors to cast in appropriate ethnicities. Sure, Hollywood's got a ways to go as far as being "equal," but it's closer than most industries. Regardless, this is not a rant about the film world's inequities... this is a celebration of my favorite (living) American directors.

Let's face it, though devoid of an international reputation for art (pop-culturally speaking... the reality is quite different), America is the home to its fair share of capable artists. And I'd like to share my thoughts on two American film directors who absolutely rule their preferred genres, and a third who I think is in honest contention to being labeled the Best Director of All-Time (American or otherwise).

Arguably the least well-known of the three, but easily the best war-film director, is Edward Zwick. Known for critical darlings Glory and Courage Under Fire, he's also been responsible for the underrated The Last Samurai and Defiance. Drama in storytelling is inherently conflict, and while Zwick fills his films with ample amounts of emotional drama (the rivalry between Denzel Washington's Private Trip and, well, everyone else in Glory), he excels at presenting physical conflict.

For many filmmakers, such a tactic would be considered a cheap trick (think the finale of The Matrix trilogy or the third act of Danny Boyle's otherwise brilliant Sunshine). For Zwick, however, whose love of history and geopolitics permeates nearly every frame of his motion pictures, such a tactic is built into the story from inception. And, very nearly to perfection, the payoff works every time.

Still, he has endured his fair share of hiccups (1998's The Siege), but his war film resume, along with the good but often derided (usually by men) Legends of the Fall, more than ensures Zwick's place in the highest pantheon of film direction.

More famous than Zwick is Michael Mann, whom many remember as the progenitor of the campy 80s television series, Miami Vice. Actually, given that he also directed the misguided film version, he'll probably only be remembered for Miami Vice. Such a remembrance would be a little sad, however, as Mann has long been bringing powerful and ostensibly realistic crime films to the screen (then again, perhaps he wouldn't mind).

Little known for the fact that he was the first director to bring Hannibal Lecter to Hollywood (in Manhunter, later remade as Red Dragon), Mann initially burst into the crime scene with the brilliant and brilliantly subdued Thief. Starring James Caan as an extremely professional and increasingly reluctant safecracker, Thief laid the groundwork for many of Mann's crime films to come.

Along with Thief, Mann's greats are Heat (a remake of his own L.A. Takedown) and Collateral, the first film to star Tom Cruise as a villain. There was also the aforementioned film version of Miami Vice (again, misguided, but entertaining) and the under-appreciated Public Enemies, a charismatic film criticized for its historical inaccuracies. Mann's resume also includes the most recent The Last of the Mohicans and Ali.

By far the greatest living American director (in my opinion, anyway), Clint Eastwood began his career as an actor. Upon undertaking his directing career in the early 1970s, Eastwood helmed film after film (usually casting himself) in a professional, competent, and somewhat unspectacular manner. Though many of his earlier efforts remain guilty pleasures (High Plains Drifter, The Outlaw Josey Wales, Firefox), it wasn't until the phenomenal Unforgiven in 1992 that he truly hit his stride. Though his follow-up schedule would be peppered "old Eastwood" directing efforts such as Absolute Power and Space Cowboys, more and more of his films entered the realm of true greatness.

Shifting away from his action-oriented past and into contemporary relevance, Eastwood delighted and disturbed us with cautionary tales of revenge (Mystic River), controversial and loving depictions of euthanasia (Million Dollar Baby), and the perspective of enemies at war (Letters from Iwo Jima). One of his latest efforts not only sealed his place on any list of great film directors, but marked his return to on-screen star-power with quite possibly the greatest character he's ever portrayed (Gran Torino).

Effectively, Eastwood has become what other great and once-great American directors have failed to become... one who gets better with age. Many argue that such lions of film such as Steven Spielberg and Francis Ford Coppola have lost their touch (confirmed for the latter), but few lay claim to such a thing happening to Eastwood. Eastwood, effectively, is the anti-Spielberg (think The Terminal, War of the Worlds, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). And even with Martin Scorsese's resurgence, Eastwood seems to stand alone when considering quantity, quality, and consistency of work.

I can't wait to see who comes along next.

Film is Collaboration

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?

Options

What a day again. My current uncharacteristic streak of having good days is somehow continuing under its own power. I don't know why, and I don't really care. Well, I don't really care as long as it holds up, that is.

Last year, I wrote a little blog about how my employment options were nil. No matter what I did, I couldn't get a significant job to save my fucking life. My resume is narrowly tailored to two things: being a filmmaker; being a soldier. Yes, the irony is that, shortly after I wrote it, I landed a job as an engineering and marketing assistant, but that's not the point. I couldn't get a job that I actually wanted.

Somehow, and once again I don't care how, all of that has changed within the last week or so. The irony here is that I'm already immensely busy without these new occupational developments. Followers of this blog know that I am busy producing a short film, pre-producing another short film, writing several scripts, and traveling a lot. But... now I have a job offer in lovely Reno, Nevada, to possibly work for a television commercial company (they do the NBA commercials for MTV, and have just landed an OLN network development deal). I also have fishing line and bait in the water for a possible (but, admittedly, unlikely at this point) job in Wilmington, North Carolina. And there's the persistent option, option three: Los Angeles.

Make no mistake, my ultimate goal is still Southern California with all of the bad traffic and crazy people, but the first two options certainly will help me get to California much more effectively (but not more quickly).

Anyway, I don't want to sound as though I'm bragging, because I'm not. I'm just a little surprised at my good fortune this year. Of course, last year more than made up for my lack of bad luck, but I'm moving on.

I guess I'm going to see what happens.

Random Givings of Thanks

Personally, I think that Thanksgiving is a painfully and obviously arbitrary holiday, but whatever...

Some things to give thanks and not-so-much-thanks for this year:

Thanks to my friends who helped me get through a shit time in my life.

Not-so-much-thanks for the person who single-handedly put me there (not that I hold a grudge... anymore).

Thanks to the idiots who are making the "Global War on Terrorism" a de facto screw up.

Thanks to the NFL for putting a third game on Thanksgiving Day.

Thanks to Kay and Sagremor, my two cats who have actually stuck around.

Not-so-much-thanks to the asshole "retiree" CEOs who give themselves $400 million pensions while the rest of America struggles to make ends meet.

Thanks to John Kerry for informing me that I was in the Army because I got bad grades in school. I was under the impression that I held a sense of duty that many no longer hold.

Thanks to my muse for putting me back in a writer's mindset.

Thanks to my dogs for putting up with my lack of attention giving... that'll change soon, I promise.

Thanks to my sister for editing my writings for spelling and grammar at no charge.

Thanks to PH for lending me a shitload of money (five figures, seriously) to keep my head above water.

Not-so-much-thanks to Chevrolet for making the third-door latch on S-10s an easily broken piece of shit.

Thanks to the screenwriters of Casino Royale for making James Bond cool again.

Thanks to Martin Scorsese for making back-to-back films that truly inspired me.

Not-so-much-thanks to George Lucas for refusing to remaster the prints of the original Star Wars trilogy for DVD.

Thanks to the paratroopers who have entered my life, but will never be able to enter it again thanks to a really fucked up war. You guys were the best.

Thanks to the filmmakers who brought work my way at the exact moment my career seemed to dead-end.

Not-so-much-thanks to the man who had me arrested because he lost a fight that HE started.

Thanks to the networks for fielding the best television programming on the air since, well, the day I was born.

And last, but certainly not least, thanks to the people who are trying to make sure that 2007 will be that "Best Year" that 2006 should have been.

A Wild and Crazy Idea

I want to make movies; this is no secret. I want to make movies now. This is also no secret. I'm trying to make a movie now. Until just then, that was a secret.

I have a script floating around a bunch of readers and other screenwriters, getting marked up with red pens and the subject of late night phone calls concerning "character development" and "story structure." It's a good script, and with the help of one, two, or more writers, it's going to be a great script.

Now, one of my readers mentioned that this script isn't "commercial" material. I know this, I knew this, and this script was never intended to be pitched to a major studio... from it's inception (and it was borne of real life, I assure you), it was intended to be a so-called independent film.

Of course, until a few days ago, I had no intention of filming this script myself.

Well, technically, I still have no intention of filming this script myself, but as of now I'll be more involved than I original had planned.

To make a getting-longer story stay shorter, a few friends, a few acquantainces, and a few strangers have been talking about fixing this little movie up, raising between $4 and $5 million, becoming guild/union signatory, and filming it for a possible run at Sundance and similar film festivals.

I say, "why not?" Life has a funny way of throwing people and ideas around, and this seems as good a throw as any other.

Let me know if you want in or can help in any way.

Blackbird at Buster's... Busted

A bit of bad news, I'm afraid.

A few of you might remember my shameless pitch for Blackbird at Buster's, an independent film written by a friend of mine, from a couple of months ago (June 1, actually). Well, the film's two producing partners had a vicious (even by Hollywood standards) falling out, and it appears that the film is in serious jeopardy.

There is, however, a chance that it will still get made, but without the assistance from the screenwriter and slated director, Rich Leder. To me, without Rich, you have no movie. Blackbird at Buster's has a very specific sense of humor. So specific, it's fairly apparent that one would need Rich involved to make it work properly. Sure, it'd still be funny without him, but much of the nuance would be lost.

At any rate, Rich is scheduled to regain the rights to Blackbird at Buster's sometime in late 2007. So, if you get any calls pertaining to working on Blackbird at Buster's, simply, as Nancy Reagan would say, "just say no."

Slam-time: Several of you are familiar with my long-running concern that Rich partnered with the wrong man when deciding to raise money for his film. This man, well call him "Hal," was not a film producer; he merely had a lot of "money" experience. I must admit, I have a degree in business, have a level of familiarity with the film industry, and was... taken aback... by the way with which the money was to be raised. Innovative, yes. Industry standard? Hell, no. Hal, to me, seemed a risk from the get-go.

Still, there's no reason it shouldn't have worked. But a wannabe producer's greed and dreams of grandeur turned into spite, and Rich was basically forced out of the production. Hal's career in Hollywood, as such, is likely going to be short-lived. I'll certainly never work with him, and I'm sure Rich, an established writer, wouldn't piss on Hal were Hal on fire.

But... some positives came out of all of this. No fewer than six of Rich's screenplays have been produced in one form or another this year. And he's got two more feature scripts in the pipe (one's finished, one's almost finished). He even has a lead actress in mind for the two scripts (Sunny Mabrey of Snakes on a Plane and Species III... check her out... she's a looker). Basically, the debacle didn't bring him down and he's still writing with a fury (something I need to do).

Here's to hoping that Blackbird at Buster's comes back to its rightful owner next year. In the meantime, keep an eye out for Rich Leder films.

Blackbird at Buster's: A Shameless Pitch

I just read a script... and it's pretty damn funny. I don't find myself often laughing out loud when I read something, but this particular script managed to force out chuckles on several occasions. To be honest, it's probably because I know the screenwriter, and I know how he is. Trust me when I say this, seeing him come through his characters is funny in and of itself. But I guess that's why he's decided to direct this particular script himself... he knows what works in the script, and he knows how to make it as funny as it can possibly be. Meat Loaf saw enough in the script to attach himself. So did Henry Winkler. Sure, they're not A-listers, but they're talent, and one made a living out of being funny. I'm pretty positive that Mr. Winkler is a good judge of comedy.

Not only is it a comedy, but it's almost a musical. It should be, after all, it's about a band who robs a bank to fund their demo... the robbery goes off (almost) without a hitch, but the getaway becomes a little, well, convoluted. Through a twist of fate, they wind up hiding out in a record store owned and operated by an old music producer (Meat Loaf). Guess what happens? They record a single.

Now, assuming that this movie is going to kick ass, it's going to need a kick-ass band to do the soundtrack, right? Well, I'm not too sure, but I've heard that Queens of the Stone Age kick ass, and they've sure as shit agreed to do the soundtrack.

The writer's name is Rich Leder, and he'll be directing, as well. Check him out on the Internet Movie Database. He's got a resume, and the personality to go with it. He's also a musician, which I guess helps a bit when writing about music.

Where am I heading with all of this? I'm sure from the title of this blog that you already know, but I'll write it out for you anyway... This little movie, Blackbird at Buster's, is still in the process of raising money. It has a $4 million dollar budget, a drop-dead date of March 2007, and needs your help.

For any of you that have ever even thought of funding a movie, this is probably the safest offer you'll ever hear of. Yes, I know I sound like a salesman, and I apologize, but all of what I'm saying is true.

The producers of Blackbird at Buster's are asking for investment units of $15,000. Yes, that's a decent chunk of change, but the risk is negligible. How? Well, 88% of that $15k ($13,200, to be exact) gets shoved into an interest-earning escrow. The rest is split among Blackbird at Buster's producing team for operating expenses. So what happens if the drop-dead date comes and goes? You get the $13,200 back, plus any interest that it accrued. Basically, you have a risk of less than $1,800 versus a reward in which the sky's the limit.

Interested? Want more information? If film's your thing, you like to invest, and you've got money available, drop me a line.

IMDb Listings

People who write their own IMDb bios are idiots; people who pay or ask others to write their IMDb bios are even bigger idiots.

Here's the thing, the IMDb was started out as a simple database for movies (hence, the "Db" part). With it, you could look up all your favorite films, actors, directors, and what nots. The bios, back in the day, were usually written by professionals of some sort, or die hard fans that could almost pass as legitimate biographers.

Then it happened... the IMDb goes "mainstream" (whatever the fuck that is) and starts a "Pro" version that basically turned the whole damned website into a pimp for wannabe actors, writers, and filmmakers, who otherwise couldn't get their name placed in a sex offender registry if they tried.

The result? Every mook that's happened to have been in 3 seconds of a fourth-rate film or television show has their "resume" (a.k.a. bullshit credits) listed in the IMDb... why? Well, because the IMDb lets them. It's how they make their money.

Way to go. Pollute a great website with your self-promoting crap. Yeah, you know who I'm talking to.