What's a director's vision and how can I get one? (Part 1.b)

You know what I said about how the material you shoot makes up a big part of your "vision?" There are actually two parts to the material part. There's a) "What's the movie about?" which is what I went on about last time, and b) "What kind of a movie is it?" which probably should have come first because it's both broader and more categorizing.

Oh well.

Comedy directors do comedy. Action directors do action. Horror directors do horror.

Put the two parts together and you have a pretty good idea what kind of film you're going to see (or make). A comedy about how mankind confronts the end of the world ('The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy') is going to be different from a horror film about how mankind confronts the end of the world ('I am Legend') is different from an action film about how mankind confronts the end of the world ('Mad Max').

This is particularly poignant for me because I work mostly in commercials, where there's really only one part to the material part. The part about what kind of a movie (commercial) it is.

It makes sense if you think about it. Commercials are mostly about one of two things: saving money or getting laid (I'll get into that in a later post), and it really doesn't make sense to go, "Oh, Brian? Yeah, he's drawn to spots about getting 10% off."

In commercials, if you're considered a comedy guy –– as I am –– you're not really sub-categorized any further than that. Comedy guys do comedy. And have a really hard time getting invited to do special effects, action, food, cars, or any of the other categories. (Those are commercial categories,by the way. You might have noticed that there aren't a lot of horror, caper, thriller, disaster, spiritual, tragedy, heartfelt drama, coming-of-age, slasher, western, rom-com, or woman-in-peril commercials.)

Where was I? Oh yeah. The material.

The material you shoot goes a long way to determining your vision –– as it's ascribed to you. Not just by audiences, but also by agents, managers, financiers, and studio execs. So be careful. It makes sense to do comedy if you're working in commercials because so many commercials are supposed to be funny. But only if you don't mind being a comedy director.

Once you're categorized, it's hard to break out.

What's a director's vision and how can I get one? (Part 1)

I've been talking to a lot of people lately about vision –– that nebulous quality that defines your work, separates you from your competition, and makes you worth vast sums of money –– and I've come to the conclusion that there are two aspects to a director's vision.

The first part is the material.

The easy way to think about this is to ask, "What's the film about?" 'ET', for instance, is about how humankind deals with the discovery of extraterrestrial life. (So are, by the way, 'Avatar' and 'District 9', but we'll get to them down the road.)

The material you're drawn to is a huge part of defining your vision. Back in 1980, Spielberg could have easily been working on a film about –– oh, I don't know, how humankind deals with the discovery of a hugely powerful religious artifact... oh wait. He was. That's 'Raiders of the Lost Ark'.

As long as we're talking about Spielberg, let's see if we can find a pattern. There's 'Jurrasic Park' (how humankind deals with the discovery of prehistoric life'), 'AI' (how humankind deals with the development of artificial intelligence), 'War of the Worlds' and 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' (how humankind deals with the discovery of extraterrestrial life –– again)... Hmm. When you break it down that way, you start to get a pretty good sense of the stuff that floats Spielberg's boat.

I think it's fair to say that Spielberg is attracted to stories about how humankind deals with events that have the potential to change history.

His vision.

I know, I know, there are a lot of ways to parse what a film is about. Just go with me on this one. And, yes, I'm cherry picking. But you get the point.

Some directors, it's pretty obvious what gets them going.

Mel Gibson is drawn to stories about heroic characters who are utterly destroyed by powerful bad guys ('Braveheart', 'The Passion of the Christ', 'Apocalypto'). Krzysztof Kieslowski rarely veered away from dealing with great cultural themes ('Trois Couleurs', 'The Decalogue'). Ingmar Bergman was hung up on death. Until he, well, died.

Others, well, hey. They have mortgages and ex-wives to support.

Or they have something else that unifies their work. Another aspect of vision I'm going to get to in Part 2.

Is Hollywood the next Detroit? (Part 2)

After having gone on extensively about why not to shoot overseas, a lot of people wonder what would possibly compel me to consider shooting anywhere but Hollywood.

Fair question.

Here's a list of the disadvantages to shooting in Hollywood:

1) Cost. This is the biggest one. If you want all those things that I listed in my last blog, you're going to have to pay for them. That's just the way it is. And these days, nobody has the kind of money that they used to have. Shooting overseas is sometimes the only way we can afford to do a project for the money.

2) Permitting. There are parts of LA that have a moratorium on shooting. Period. Meaning, no, you can’t shoot there. In Portland, I recently shot for two days downtown. The requirements were A) Inform the film office where and when I’d be shooting, B) Don’t block any businesses’ entries, and C) leave at least six feet on one side of any camera or equipment for handicap access. In Moncton, it was even less onerous.

3) Jaded citizenry. There’s something really wonderful about being welcomed into a community, rather than being given the stink eye everywhere you turn. When I shoot a job in, say, Halifax –– or even Vancouver, Washington –– it’s not unusual for people who own the locations we’re using to go out of their way to accommodate our needs. I’ve even had homeowners make cookies for us when we come to scout their back yards. That doesn’t happen in LA.

4) “Free” extras. Every time I shoot in LA, it becomes a festival of gardeners with leaf blowers, motorcyclists idling and revving, people jumping up and down behind whoever’s in front of the camera, and drivers of passing cars leaning on their horns.

5) Unfunded mandates. Where you can shoot in LA, a lot of rules make it difficult to get permission. Try getting 100% of the neighbors on a block to sign an agreement allowing you to film there.

6) Unions. SAG, IATSE, the Teamsters, and the DGA aren’t inherently bad, but they do have their own agendas which make shooting in LA or New York a bit more complicated than shooting elsewhere. You either follow their rules or run the risk that they’ll shut you down.

7) Overexposure. I once shot a car commercial in LA and thought I’d discovered a great location. As I was lining up a shot, I looked down and saw I was standing on tape marks from a previous production. Believe me, if it’s worth shooting in LA, somebody’s already shot it.

8) The Boondoggle Factor. Let's face it, it's more exciting to say you got to shoot in Bulgaria than on the backlot at Paramount. And for people who want to travel, but don't want to spend their own money doing it, taking a production overseas is perfect.

9) Being unavailable. An amazing thing happened when I shot a job hundreds of miles from the nearest cell tower in Namibia –– nobody could "check in" with some higher up to validate their decisions. Everything we did, we did without help. It was one of the most pleasant production experiences I've ever had. Of course, that's not the kind of thing I'd advertise to the higher-ups...

10) The look. LA looks like, well, LA. Even in the areas that can play for someplace else, you're not going to have snow. And it's going to be hard to avoid seeing palm trees.

Here's the bottom line: you have to choose the correct solution for the project, not just give some knee-jerk reaction. Automatically choosing to shoot in LA is no better than automatically choosing to shoot in Argentina.

Frankly, no place is perfect. The trick is to calculate which place is likely to be the most perfect.

Is Hollywood the next Detroit?

An ad agency art director I know recently booked his first job in Argentina. He's having such a good experience that he wonders whether domestic film production –– like lots of other American industries –– is destined for oblivion, a victim of offshoring.

This question seems to come up every time somebody shoots their first production overseas –– and I mean always. Even back in 1992, when I shot my first overseas job, the old-timers rolled their eyes at my naive enthusiasm for the experience.

Back in 1992, the US dollar was incredibly strong. And even though a lot of productions took advantage of the bargains available, it wasn't tax incentives that kept the production communities in Hollywood and New York viable. Didn't hurt, of course, but there are plenty of other reasons people will pay a premium to shoot there.

1) The language barrier. You're not going to find an abundance of talented American-sounding performers. So if you have on-camera dialogue, you still have to cast in the States and travel them. (You can find actors who can sound American in Canada, of course –– arguably more than you can find in parts of LA.) This goes beyond actors, by the way. As a director, I need to be able to communicate seamlessly with my DP, Wardrobe, Makeup, Art Department, AD, and production team. I'm fortunate in that I speak Spanish, which makes working in a lot of places easier for me.

2) The look barrier. Sure, people in other countries can often look American. (The last time I was in Switzerland, I was stunned by how much more American they looked than Americans.) But that's just the white people. if you're looking for ethnic diversity, you might not find what you need. We couldn't find black people in any great numbers in Argentina. And there aren't a ton of Mexicans in Canada.

3) The look barrier, part 2. I once shot a job in Mallorca, part of which needed to look like an American suburb. How hard could that be, right? Turns out there's one house on the entire island that would play. We scouted Barcelona, too, to see if we could find other options there. Nothing. Thank God for the one house and some creative angles.

4) Believable performances. Most American directors don't speak Spanish, Portuguese, Czech, Bulgarian, or Russian; most Argentine, Spanish, Mexican, Brazilian, Czech, Bulgarian, and Russian actors don't speak English. It's funny how being able to communicate directly with your actors generally results in a better performance.

5) A dearth of equipment. Sure, you can find most of what you need, but if you get into specialized stuff, you have to bring it in.

6) Travel costs. This applies to commercials more than films. For a four-day shoot or more, it can be very economical, but when you're talking a one- or two-day job, your travel costs become disproportionate to your overall budget.

7) Fear. I can't believe how difficult it can be to convince a lot of the people who have to okay your decisions that the world beyond our borders is "civilized."

8) Convenience. For clients or investors with other things to deal with than the masterpiece you're working on, getting on a plane for nine hours is a deal-killer. Hell, it's hard to convince some people to seriously consider taking a 2 1/2 commuter flight to Portland, Oregon, where the costs are lower, the crews are extraordinary, the talent pool is extensive, and the native population speaks English.

9) The US dollar. Right now it's ridiculously low. I can still get a bargain when I take productions to certain parts of Canada, Spain, Argentina, Mexico, etc., but frankly, I save almost as much by shooting in Portland and by the way, I get to ride my bike to the set.

8) Habit. Same thing that keeps ad agencies and studios shooting with (INSSERT DIFFICULT A-LIST DIRECTOR'S NAME HERE), even though they could get a much better piece, and have a much more pleasant experience, trying out someone less famous and more enthusiastic.

10) Specific issues with regard to look. Sure, you can bring in light switches, bathroom fixtures, elevator buttons, traffic signs, electrical outlets, appliances, license plates, all the things that are subtle giveaways that the piece you're looking at isn't quite American, but I once had a box of T-shirts held by Canadian customs for eight months because they were convinced I was importing them for resale. You really want to take that chance?

11) Efficiency of production. Yep, there are great crews and production teams everywhere in the world. But you can't touch the depth, knowledge, efficiency, and speed of the teams in Hollywood and New York.

12) Insurance. If your camera goes down in Hollywood, you can have another one on your set in the time it takes to drive from point A to point B. Sure, with traffic that can be more than an hour. But try that in most of the other destinations we like to shoot in. And then think about your more specialized stuff, which there might be one of in the entire country, with no backup to be had at any price.

13) Extensive secondary resources. Hollywood and New York have entire ecosystems dedicated to the stuff that we're familiar with. Any craft service person knows to put a plastic tub of Twizzlers on the table. Any hair stylist knows what a flat-top looks like. And any wardrobe person understands the subtle distinctions between a Patagonia jacket and a Columbia Sportswear one. Sure, a breakfast burrito isn't a reason, in itself, to keep productions in Hollywood. But the little things add up.

14) Stupid bureaucrats with weapons. I've had more than my share of arguments with armed airport personnel who insisted that my cans of film were not going to cross their border until each one was opened up and inspected by hand. Even in the age of digital production, there are still plenty of opportunities for some low-level bureaucrat to exert power in a way that costs you tens of thousands of dollars.

15) Hidden costs. In lots of places around the world, an outstretched hand isn't an offer to shake. And I'm not just talking about guys with leaf blowers who show up as soon as the camera truck pulls to a stop. In Morocco, for instance, it was amazing how many people claimed to be the king's brother-in-law.

I'm sure there are other reasons, but these are the ones that came to mind immediately. Anybody care to add to the list?

I could use your help.

I just finished building the prototype of a camera rig and I probably ought to consider filing for a patent on the thing. If you know any good (preferably inexpensive) patent attorneys, would you mind passing their info along to me?

Thanks.

I'm actually going to say something nice about 'The Time Traveler's Wife'.

I just rented 'The Time Traveler's Wife', or rather, my wife did. It's not the kind of title that tends to appeal to me –– it sounds like a chick flick –– and while some chick flicks are actually good ('Bridget Jones' Diary' comes to mind, but if you tell my wife I said that, I'll deny it), most drive down the same deeply rutted path of "woman-remarkable-only-because-she's-played-by-attractive-movie-star-survives-misplaced-affection-for-cad-only-to-find-true-love-with-secret-prince/millionaire-who-ultimately-spurns-all-others-and-declares-undying-love-for-her-because-she's-distinguished-by-being-the-story's-protagonist."

Which in its defense, this film didn't. Instead, we have a creepy story about a middle-aged man who over the course of years brainwashes an impressionable girl into thinking he's the love of her life. Or maybe I'm just sensitive because I have a daughter.

Anyway.

The film had some huge problems (your five-year-old daughter unintentionally travels through time and space, landing buck naked God-knows-where-and-when and you're okay with it because she tells you she's "learning to control it?"). Okay, I am sensitive. There are other problems, too, and if you want I'll go into them, but that's not what I'm here to write about today.

I'm here to write about how the film actually managed to succeed in one small way. One performance really sticks out. It's a scene between Eric Bana –– who plays Henry, the guy who inadvertently travels through time –– and Michelle Nolden, who plays Henry's long dead mother.

He follows her onto the subway, stares at her for a while, and then tells her he loves her.

Michelle Nolden nails this scene.

What makes her performance so good is that it's so right. Henry's mom is a singer, and she has no idea that the guy she's talking to is her grown-up son, come back in time to try and assuage his guilt over her impending death. As far as she knows, she's being hit on by some good-looking guy her age, admired by an adoring fan, or accosted by a deranged stranger. She plays it with just the right level of appreciation, caution, and weirded-outness. When she delivers "I'm glad I met you, too," the amount of insincerity in her voice is just perfect.

And she gets huge bonus points because Eric Bana isn't much help. He plods through the lines opposite her without any focus at all.

I'm cringing as I write this, but I'm going to say it anyway: Rent the film. Just fast forward about 27 1/2 minutes in and watch the train scene. Then turn it off and put on something decent.

Even if it is a chick flick.

Today is my birthday. And my gift to you is enlightenment.

I was making breakfast for the kids the other day and I had an epiphany. A real, live zen koan kind of epiphany.

You know the age-old question, "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" I know the answer.

Really.

Ready for this? The egg is the chicken.

Think about it. If you like it, pass it on. The world could use a little more enlightenment.