- you could make $500,000-$1.1 million in German/Austria market.
- $90,000-$150,000 in Malaysia.
- $20,000-$30,000 in Pakistan.

But even in Hollywood, making your money back is hard work. Consider that if you were in the lowest category ($750,000 - $1 million budget) the MOST you could make back (if their estimates are correct in the magazine) if you sold to ALL of the international markets at their HIGHEST value is $1.24 million. For the $6 million - $12 million budget range, the most you could make is just under $11 million. Of course, there are other ways to make money on a film (domestic, etc.) but this clearly shows that international sales has its limitations. I guess the key is to make a movie that LOOKS like $750,000 film, but costs much less. I don't think the technology used in microcinema is there yet, but perhaps someday it will. What does all of this have to do with the Breath Mints of microcinema? I think you could safely say that many of the films at the AFM are what we most of us would consider crap. But, if you look at the difference in production value, story and acting, most are vastly superior to what is available on the microcinema scene. Granted, the nature of the microcinema scene promotes experimentation and imitation from learning filmmakers. But, I also get a sense from a lot of microcinema filmmakers that because we made a movie over 74 minutes long, people should consider it just as valid or valuable as the features Hollywood churns out. Yet, most microcinema efforts don't equate in quality to any of the features available at the AFM. As sad as a movie like SCI-FIGHTERS starring Lorenzo Lamas and Don "The Dragon" Wilson looks, it would still kick most of our microcinema asses.

I spent last night watching the Coen Brother's film THE MAN WHO WASN'T THERE and was surprised at the amount of plot twists that happened in what appears to be a realitively innocuous storyline. It empitomized my belief, in screenwriting, that anything can happen. The film takes place in 1949 and stars Billy Bob Thorton as Ed Crane, a second-chair barber working for his brother-in-law at a three-chaired barber shop. Crane's wife Doris, played by Coen regular Frances McDormand, works as a bookkeeper in a local department store. The store is managed by Big Dave, played by Soprano James Gandolfini, who got the job as a manager by marrying Ann, who's family owns the department store chain. Crane's professional and personal life are stagnate. He doesn't speak much and doesn't like to be spoken to either. One night, during dinner with Big Dave and Ann, he comes to the conclusion the Big Dave and his wife, Doris, are having an affair. Big Dave is excited that he's about to open his own new store in the department store chain and that Doris would be promoted to Comptroller. Even though Crane believes his wife is unfaithful with Big Dave, he is uninspired to confront it. However, the next morning a stranger, named Tolliver, comes into the barber shop venting his frustration on failing to acquire venture capital to start a new thing called Dry Cleaning. He's already approached and been dismissed by Big Dave and he's ready to leave town. Crane, realizing he's never pursued any of his own dreams, tells Tolliver that he'd be able to provide the $10,000 investment by the end of the week.

Crane then drafts a ransom note to Big Dave stating he knows he's having an affair with a married woman (he does not name Doris by name) and he's demanding $10,000. At a department store party, Big Dave confides in Crane that he's been having an affair with a married woman (not necessarily Doris) and that if the news gets out, he'll lose his job and his dream of owning his own department store. Big Dave believes Tolliver is behind it and the only way to get the money would be to ask Doris to cook the books (embezzle) the get the cash.

Crane & Big Dave

Crane & Tolliver

Big Dave has Doris embezzle and he deposits the money as the ransom note has stated. Crane picks up the money and gives it to Tolliver, signing contracts for the partnership in the Dry Cleaning business. A few evenings later, after a family wedding that left Doris passed out from drinking, Crane gets a call from Big Dave to meet him at the store. Crane uses Doris' keys and her car and meets Big Dave in his office. He discovers that Big Dave had beaten Tolliver and found out Crane was behind the ransom note. Big Dave then tries to choke Crane, but Crane slashes his throat with Big Dave's lucky knife, who drops to the floor and dies in a pool of his own blood. Not knowing what to do, Crane goes home.

The next day police arrive at the barbershop. Crane, expecting as much, all but confesses before they interrupt him to tell him his wife had been picked up for the murder. Apparently, they theorize, she killed Big Dave to cover up the embezzlement activity, for which they believe she was solely responsible. This is where the story really takes off creatively.

- Crane's brother-in-law and fellow barber gets a loan against the barber shop to pay for the best attorney, played brilliantly by Tony Shalhoub.
- Ann, Big Dave's wife, stops by on the way home from Big Dave's funeral to tell Crane that, while camping a few years ago, Big Dave and Ann were abducted by aliens and that Big Dave had not been the same since.
- In a meeting at the prison with Shaloub, Doris and Crane, Crane confesses to the crime, but it's dismissed by Shalhoub as a ineffective defense ploy.
- On lonely nights Crane finds comfort at his friend's house, listening to the piano playing of his friends teen daughter.
- Tolliver has disappeared. Crane surmises he left with the money and his dreams and his reality are now hoplessly lost.
- Shalhoub hires a private eye who discovers all of Big Dave's WWII claims were false and they would use the potential revelation of that info as the motive, replacing the embezzlement motive.



Ann speaks of UFOs

- As they are about to begin the trial, Doris commits suicide by hanging herself herself.
- The brother-in-law is so distraught he no longer works, so Crane handles the barbershop to keep it out of foreclosure.
- The Medical Examiner tells Crane, in confidence, that Doris was pregnant. Crane tells him that they hadn't made love in years, which means she was having the affair.
- Crane, intent on doing something important, pays for his friends daughter to play piano for a master teacher, in the hopes that she would go on to become a great pianist.
- The teacher states the student has talent, but no heart for music.
- On the drive back the teen girl makes passes at Crane and attempts to give him a blow job, causing an accident.
- Crane awakens to find the police in his room, arresting him for the beating death of Tolliver, who was found at the bottom of a river. The contracts with his name and the money are found and are used as motive.
- Crane gets a loan on his house to pay Shalhoub for defense, but an unexpected tirade by Crane's brother-in-law's during the trial causes a mistrial.
- Unable to pay for a good attorney, the state appointed one convinces Crane to plead guilty and hope for the best.
- He is sentenced to die in the electric chair.
- He dreams of a UFO visiting him at the jail.
- He is walked down and executed.

Momentum, Movies and Fearful Moments
By Pete Bauer

Today, after working 3 a.m. to around noon, I had lunch with my brother Charles near his work. Afterwards he and I shot some exterior Lab shots of his building for the opening of our nearly completed dv feature called THE BOX. It wasn't as if I had accomplished a lot, but it was nice to get something done. Anything done. One of the things I've learned through this project is how momentum impacts your life. After we got done with the principle shooting, I needed a break and took a few days off. Then work became increasingly busy and evaporated any forward movement I had made on the project. And now, it's like starting a lawn mower for the first time after a long Winter. It takes an awful lot of pulls to get the thing cranked up again and it isn't too happy about being bothered. That's the way I felt today. My work schedule has me fighting exhaustion on a daily basis, but I knew if I didn't get the motor on this project cranked up and running again, that it would only be harder to start later.

But once the engine starting purring again, it seemed as if all was right with the world. Plopping that Sony PD-150 on the tripod and shooting some basic shots felt oh so good, comfortable. Made me realize just how much I enjoy this stuff.

So, I've learned that momentum is a critical component of artistic endeavors. I remember reading once that one of the ways to make sure you make a movie is to tell everyone you're going to do it. This forces you into action, which creates momentum and, eventually, you have no choice but to follow through on your word... or fail and lose all credibility with everyone you've told. And with THE BOX, this has certainly been the case. When I decided to shoot a feature, and picked THE BOX as the one to attempt, I was determined to finish it, no matter how it all turned out. I'll admit that, at the beginning, I was very apprehensive as to whether or not I could pull it off... I mean, there are a mountain of things to overcome, challenges to face and adjustments to be made, all of which have to be handled in order to shoot a feature. But, after I made that decision and started telling people about my goals, I found myself surrounded by co-workers, friends, even friends of friends, all of whom, to my surprise, had similar aspirations and who wanted to participate in the project.

One of the potential momentum stoppers in things like making movies is when you are forced to face things for which you are uncomfortable. An old boss of mine once said to me "there are parts of your job you like and parts of your job you don't, but they are all your responsibility, so figure out a way to do all of them well." And that is very true, especially when trying to scrape together the time and resources for a micro-budget feature. Who wants to ask friends and family to help out? Who wants to approach total strangers and convince them that giving you what you want is in their best interest? Not a lot of people. But, if you want to get it done, you find a way to get it done. At some point, when there is enough momentum behind the project, you find that it is more painful NOT asking for something for which you are uncomfortable. That NOT getting what the project needs means you've wasted all of your time up until that one awkward moment.

I read a psychological study on successful people and one of the critical personality traits of "winners" is that their initial reaction is to take on what they're afraid of. Most people are debilitated by fear and never start initiatives, which means they never succeed. However, since a "winners" first instinct is to face their fears head on, they are, statistically, more apt to succeed then the rest. And I was lucky enough to have a real life example... one of my brother-in-laws was once vastly overweight and smoked. When his father died of cancer he decided to change his life. He lost over 150 lbs and quit smoking AT THE SAME TIME. I asked him one day how he had the strength to do that, to take on two seemingly insurmountable tasks at the same time. His response was quick. He said "It simply became more important than anything else."

And, in the end, it's that simple. So, whatever obstacles he feared when facing those two challenges weakened dramatically with the death of his father. Suddenly, the pain of NOT changing far out-weighed the challenge of facing his fears, of changing his life, of facing failure.

And though my brother-in-law's struggle is on a much more noble scale, the same basic principle holds true when making a movie. You will be faced with situations you don't want to face, with fears you don't want to challenge. But, if you have enough momentum, enough riding on NOT doing what is uncomfortable, than "it simply becomes more important than anything else." And you do it.

And the funny thing is, when you look back, you realize that the fear was much greater than the reality.

Things My Nine-Year Old Daughter Taught Me About Acting
By Pete Bauer

When shooting the DV feature, THE BOX, one of the main characters ended up being played by my nine-year old daughter, Dorothea. Even though she had never acted before, I knew she was perfect for the role because: 1) she took direction well, 2) she has a natural talent with words and 3) since she was my daughter I could make her work whenever I needed. :) It was through coaching my daughter in THE BOX that I came across some things that may help other micro-budget filmmakers working with non-actors.

The entire purpose of "acting" is to look like your NOT acting and that's where non-actors get into trouble... they try too hard. But here are some tips that you can use to get a stronger performance out of your non-actors.

Relaxation: This is probably the hardest things for a non-actor to achieve. Relaxation comes from comfort and the fact that you're using non-actors means that, more than likely, you're dealing with people who haven't spent a lot of time in front of the camera. So, getting them to relax in front of it can be difficult. This tension often manifests itself with a nervous giggle or an incessant smile on their face. And then they'll "act" for you, which is exactly what you want to avoid. So, here are some things you can say to non-actors to alleviate the pressure:

- Tell them that you'll shoot as many takes as necessary. If they need 100 takes to get it right, fine, no problem. And, for most non-actors, it may take 10 or 12 takes to get them comfortable.
- Tell them that your sole job is to make them look as good as possible, which is true, and that you'll do whatever you can to help them do that.
- Let them understand your appreciation for their contributing to the project. Let them know that, without them, this couldn't happen and empathize with the awkward situation they're in.
- When they screw up, joke with them, keep the atmosphere light. If they sense you're at all tense or frustrated, they'll lose whatever relaxtion they've acheived.
- One final thing you can try is, after a take, tell them that you got the take you wanted, but that you want to do a couple more for safety. Even if their last take was lousy, when they think that you've got a take you can use, they'll often sigh and you'll see the burden of acting lifted off their shoulders. You'll find that they're suddenly relaxed and these next few "safety takes" are the ones that will end up in the finished product.

- Have your actors run lines together, going over the scene again and again. Let them do this for as long as they need, because it will save you a lot of time when the camera's rolling.
- While they're running lines, throw in some direction (move here on this line, don't get so angry, etc.) See how they respond. You'll get a better idea as to what will and will not work, what type of direction they respond to and what they can't process.

- First take actors do their best work on the first take and only get weaker and more stilted the more they redo the scene.
- Last take actors get better and more relaxed with each take and their best performance is the last one you shoot. Fortunately, most actors fall into this category.

- A line reading is when you say the line exactly as you want it to be said, with the tone, inflection, urgency, etc. The actor will then copy how you said the line.
- Some people need to make their line readings their own and you'll need to make them understand why they're saying the line... which leads me to the next category...

- Take a moment to make sure they understand the logic behind the words. Make sure that they focus on WHY they are saying something, as opposed to the exact words they are saying. If a scene is written well enough, and the actor can understand the logic behind their lines, then they will eventually understand that the only appropriate line to say next is "Can't you show me how you feel?"
- That understanding of logic also needs to work for a scene. In THE BOX I had one long scene that had to be shot in single take. So, I went through it with the actors, breaking the scene into sections, or "beats". I explained the logic behind the words and the logic behind the beats. So, instead of them having to memorize a LONG scene, they put together a bunch of short beats that made sense to them. For example: The first beat you want to make him angry. The second beat you want him to apologize. The third beat your are sorry for pushing him too hard.
- Let them paraphrase. Unless an exact line is necessary for the plot, if you see an actor is stumbling over words, then tell them to put it into their own words. Simply ask them "what are you trying to say?" They'll first try to recite their lines, but don't let them. Tell them to tell you, in their own words, what they are trying to convey. Then, tweak the line to fit how they feel comfortable saying it. This allows them to take ownership of the line, they feel like they're contributing and their performance will be more believable. And, what you'll usually find is that, once they put it into their own words, they eventually end up using your original dialogue, except they now understand what they're saying.

Front Row at the Saints and Sinners Film Festival
By Pete Bauer

While the rest of the REwind community was recuperating from the 2002 RMAs, I attended a similar festival in St. Petersburg, called the Saints and Sinners Film Festival. The festival was very well attended by a varied group of independent film fans... everyone from metal goths, to tan yuppies, to spike-haired punks, to parents and grand-parents... they were all there to support local micro-budget filmmakers. Held in downtown St. Pete at the State Theater, this usual haven of up and coming metal and rock bands was quickly transformed into an underground, indie-edge style showcase of aspiring filmmakers, with uncomfortable chairs, over-priced drinks and pizza and a great amount of enthusiasm and communal support... it was perfect.

The festival started at 4:00 p.m. and the line formed around the block. Though there were some kinks in actually getting people into the theater in a timely manner (after all, it's frickin' August in Florida! Open the doors early and let us get in the air conditioning!), no one seemed to mind. The festival, which separated the entries into non-horror (Saints) and horror (Sinners), showcased projects made by Florida filmmakers. Feature projects were interspersed with shorts and the festival concluded with the premiere of TOXIC AVENGER 4: CITIZEN TOXIE. As most of you know, I am not a fan of horror movies... at least the real bloody ones, but I really wanted to show my support to the fest so I sat quietly, hoping I wouldn't get grossed out. And, to my surprise, I wasn't at all. The Sinner projects were horror, but not gory, which I appreciated. Now, I'm not sure if this was intended by the festival organizers at Renegage Films, but the best of the line-up came within the first four hours of this ten hour event. The fest opened with a local shot-on-video pseudo-documentary called BLEED, which was eerily like THE LAST BROADCAST. It was a nice project to start the festival and the audience was eager to show their support with appropriate hoops and yells. It was then followed by an effective film short called UNRAVELING AMELIA, about an old woman's trip into insanity as a result of being snowed in at a remote cabin. The highlight of the fest actually came from one of the guys at Renegade Films. He was home with the kids one day and threw together an absolutely hilarious and adorable short called WONDERBOY. It rocked! Other quality films were IT'S ONLY YOUR IMAGINATION and the very funny Clerks take-off called CLARKS, which ended with a hilarious homage to THE BREAKFAST CLUB.

Other projects were either not effective or just not that good. CHILD OF THE APOCALYPSE, about a Satanist having the Anti-Christ, though trying to be satircal look at tabloid media, was far too blasphemous for my tastes. And LOOKING IN THE FISHBOWL, a Crystal Reel Award winning short film, was very funny, but seemed to go out of it's way to bash Catholics. Being a card carrying Catholic, I couldn't help but ask the simple question... WHY? I'll never say Catholicism, or any other religion, is perfect. But, attacking any of them without it actually meaning something just seems lazy and a waste of a good story-telling opportunity. Falls into that oh-so-typical "rebelling against the institutions" thing that just isn't that original to me... so high-schoolish... rebellion-lite. But, that's just my opinion.

As all of you know, I have GREAT respect for anyone who can put a film together, not matter what the end quality. We've all been there and know that even unsuccessful projects take a hell of a lot of work. That being said, the worst short of the day was easily a mafia story called HIT & MISS... it was obviously their first effort. Shaky camera moves, bad audio, bad logic and bad framing all combined to make this one that will quickly fade from my long term memory. And one of the most memorable shorts was called GOOD GOLLY MISS DOLLY... it was so bad, it was charming. The story, about two hillbillies arguing over the love of Dolly (a peeing goat) was memorable because one of the guys kept his face down the entire time, obviously reading the script (which was visible on the table). It was hilarious. You end up loving those types of things even more because you know that these people have had no real training, yet are still driven to make movies. It was inspiring, in an odd sort of way.

Now, I'll admit, I must be getting old, because I could not make it through the entire festival. I ended up leaving after CLARKS at around 11:30 p.m. Unfortunately, there were some shorts I really wanted to see, but my eyes were starting to glaze over and I was struggling to pay attention. I didn't want to do the filmmakers an injustice by not paying attention, so after 7 1/2 hours I hit the road and headed home.

Major kudos go to the guys at Renegade Films for all the time and effort in pulling this whole thing together. I'm sure Jon and the Linns know what a Herculean task that can be. I was pleasantly surprised at the overflowing crowd that attended the event. There's obviously a larger mirco-budget film community in the area than I had expected. The only real down side was that I was hoping the event would have lended itself to being more conducive for networking with like-minded filmmakers. However, the nature of the venue and the tight schedule limited that opportunity. Perhaps, in future fests, there will be more of a chance to just hang out and talk shop with other filmmakers.

From what I hear, the guys at Renegade are trying to get together another festival... perhaps as soon as November. So, any micro-budget filmmakers out there, especially those located in Florida, make sure to submit your stuff and plan to attend. If the upcoming fests are as successful as this first effort, it can easily become one of the top mirco-budget festivals in the country... second to the RMAs, of course!

Godzilla vs. Bin Laden: The Re-Evaluation of the Hollywood Blockbuster
By Pete Bauer

I took my daughter to the local public library the other day and found that they had recently added DVDs to the things one could check out. I wasn't in the mood for anything thought provoking, I wanted some mindless drivel. It had been an extremely long work week and I needed some mental down time. So, I picked out one of the biggest, expensive and unsatisfying examples of Hollywood drivel I could find, 1998's GODZILLA.

Ever since the terrible events of 9/11 I've been wondering how that would spill into the public's cinematic appetite. Since that day, I had not seen an abundance of philosophical changes coming from Hollywood (Sum of All Fears, Collateral Damage), so I wondered if anything had really changed. I wondered if something as truly horrifying as what happened in New York and Pennsylvania last September was going to have any lasting impact on the movie-going audiences. I thought that, if America had not truly lost its soul over the past 200 years, we would, as a people, no longer need the irrelevant fluff we so eagerly purchased from the media outlets previously in order to fill our lives. That films, television and books would some how take on a more meaningful purpose. I was afraid to think that our decades of excess living in a land where generations had lived with a war-less history, that we would have lost ourselves irrevocably to the baser urges of mankind.

And then I watched GODZILLA.

It was while watching this super-fictional attack on the New City of the north that I finally noticed the stark differences between "what was" and "what is" after 9/11. There was no escapism for me in watching a monster destroy people-filled buildings, or the military flying through the city in a desperate attempt to save human lives. And the jokes of the political ramifications of a Mayor ordering the evacuation of the city now seem so hopelessly out of place... almost offensive when considering what Mayor Guiliani dealt with when real-life terror impacted his city.

What used to be found as amusement or flights of fancy, such as destroying skyscrapers or blowing up well known landmarks, are now so morally inappropriate, so misplaced, so hollow and weak that it cemented in me how the world had truly changed. Prior to that awful day we were so distant from true life horror that it took a gigantic monster destroying a larger than life city to merely whet our appetite. Now, it's almost embarrassing to think that anyone would find such a story entertaining.

Years of the consistent devaluing of human life, of adding body count for cinematic impact instead of layering the true human stories that fill each of those dead bodies, culminated in the fact that we thought of it as nothing very important to watch a monster wreak the largest of body counts, for people to be stomped on like insignificant bugs. And that the killing of men and women serving in the armed forces was somehow an effective punch line.

Oh, how things have changed.

Does that mean there should be no more monsters in the movies? Of course not. But, what I hope it means is that America, and perhaps the world, are more in touch with the substance of their existence and to expect more from their escapism... to layer the stories with a touch of humanity as well as entertainment... that we have moved permanently above the expectation that the highest we should expect from our entertainment is the lowest form of our existence.

At least, I hope so.

The Hollywood Recycling Center - One Man's Classic is Another Man's Paycheck
By Pete Bauer

When you're pounding your head, trying to think of new story ideas, does it ever feel like that you have nothing new to offer? That the idea in your head is really just a re-tread of an existing film? Don't worry. This happens all the time. Sometimes, new ideas are hard to come by, even for the most lauded of screenwriters. Take Robert Towne. Here's a guy who's written some of the most important, critically acclaimed films in the history of Hollywood. He's written or helped write such films as Chinatown, The Parallax View, Marathon Man, The Two Jakes, Tequila Sunrise, The Firm and many more. He's also written two of my favorite recent films, Mission: Impossible 1 & 2. Just a few weeks ago I rented both MIs on DVD, watched and enjoyed them both. Then, last night, I plopped in one of my all time favorite films, a film that I had not seen in years... Alfred Hitchcock's Notorious. I was stunned to find out I was actually watching the original Mission: Impossible 2. Let's look at the similarities:

The stories revolve around government agents (Cary Grant in Notorious and Tom Cruise in MI2) who are asked to get to know a woman, a non-agent (Ingrid Bergman in Notorious and Thandie Newton in MI2), whom the government wants to enlist to assist them in a critical mission. Both agents quickly fall in love with these beautiful civilian women before they are told the specifics of the mission. As part of their job, both women are asked to rekindle an old relationship with an ex-lover (Claude Rains in Notorious and Dougray Scott in MI2) and must even agree to sleep with them, if necessary. Both ex-lovers are men who were desperately in love with these women previously, to the point that their partners (Leopoldine Konstantin, who plays Rains mother in Notorious and Richard Roxburgh in MI2) fear they are clouded by their lust and love when their old flames suddenly reappear back into their lives.

Once undercover, both women agree to meet with the agents for the first time at a horse race, where the ex-lover watches them from afar, then approaches them just as the agent leaves. Both women are successful at their espionage (Bergman gets the key to the wine cellar in Notorious, Newton picks the flash disc from Scott's pocket in MI:2). However, both women make a slight, critical error (Bergman doesn't get the key back on the key chain in time, Newton slides the disc back into the wrong pocket) which arouses suspicion in the ex-lovers. Once the men verify the women are traitors, they are unable to tell their cohorts in crime for fear of repercussion (more so in Notorious than MI:2). Both women are then poisoned (Bergman by the tea she drinks, Newton by injecting herself with a virus) and both agents must come to their rescue and save them before the poison kills them. Both of the women are saved from their missions in the nick of time by the agents, whom they love and who love them.

Stunning.

If there were only a few similarities, it would be different, but the first half of both movies are almost identical. The climaxes vary widely due to the style of the directors (Hitchcock and Woo), but the storylines are identical. The only major difference in both stories is that Grant, when he finds out what Bergman must do on her mission, refuses to admit his love for her. Where as in MI:2, Cruise makes a point to tell her that he'd rather her not take the mission because of his feelings for her. Hitchcock's love story is much stronger because it adds an entirely different level to the story. Grant's and Bergman's relationship is brutal at times and you want her to know that he really loves her just as bad as you want her to complete her mission and get out of there. But, beyond that and the directorial styles, the films are nearly identical.

Even though I think we need to tell the most compelling, unique stories possible, when Hollywood recycles, it also includes their screenplays (I won't even get into the whole Casablanca vs. Barb Wire fiasco). So, the next time you come across a great idea that may not have been all that original, remember that HOW you tell your story appears to be more important than WHAT your story is about. If someone as truly talented as Robert Towne can, maliciously or not, turn Notorious into MI:2, then you can certainly turn your favorite film into something uniquely your own.

How about Raging Bull as a sci-fi musical? Or Citizen Kane as a sitcom starring Gary Coleman? Or The Sound Of Music Television. And I'm sure Towne won't mind if I turn Chinatown into Universal Soldier VIII! After all, a man has to make a living.

Defining Your Style
By Pete Bauer

For any new low to no-budget filmmaker, I think there is an important question that should be asked. What makes me so special? What I mean by that is, why should anyone watch your stories? I am a firm believer that humans are storytellers by nature. We love to hear stories, make up stories, and watch stories. We see stories in paintings, in poems, in music and in sculpture. We listen to stories in gossip, in sharing memories and in relaying our hopes and goals. And filmmakers feel the instinctual urge to tell their stories with moving pictures. But, the question we should all be asking ourselves is what is going to make the way we convey our stories that much more unique and effective than the other wanna-be filmmakers out there?

This is something that I think most starting filmmakers often neglect to define within themselves. Part of this is understandable. We usually spend the early part of our "careers" learning the skills necessary by copying filmmakers we admire. We make our own personal versions of Scream or Star Wars or Indiana Jones. But, once we've grasped the basics, we should start trying to define who we are as filmmakers, how we tell stories, how we are to effect the audience, because, in the end, our primary goal as a story teller is to illicit emotion from our audience. Failing to do so means our attempt was unsuccessful at the most basic level for nothing screams failure louder to a filmmaker than a passive audience member.

Filmmakers have a seemingly infinite variety of ways to affect the audience. Some filmmakers choose a tense, realistic subject matter to illicit emotion. They'll convey stories of abuse, or drugs, or poverty or family crisis. Others choose a more fantastical way to illicit emotion, through horror or gore or science fiction. Some combine a little of all of these in thrillers and conspiracies and deception. We pick a genre that fits our strengths and our tastes and pursue making the most effective story possible. But, again, we should be asking ourselves, what makes me so special? Out of all of the low budget horror films out there, what will make mine stand out, what will make my story my own personal contribution to the genre. There are many horror directors out there, but only a few Cravens or Carpenters. There are many thriller directors out there, but only a few Hitchcocks or DePalmas.

When people think of Hitchcock or DePalma or Carpenter, the term "genius" is often attached in some fashion. But, are they a "genius" because they were born with an extra filmmaker gene or are they a "genius" because they have truly defined themselves as storytellers? And is this definition by accident, by some deep-seeded instinct, or is it, rather, because they are that much more thorough in creating their visual imagery? I think their "genius" comes from 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration. Hitchcock, for example, never just "filmed" the scene. Every single shot was evaluated for it's emotional impact, either on its own or how it fit within a scene. Nothing was shot just to get the shot. Every angle was chosen as part of a whole to create the maximum impact to the audience. In Dial M For Murder, for example, the scene where Grace Kelly is attacked is divided into three 30 second sections. Pre-Attack, Attack and Post-Attack. Each section is 30 seconds long, because Hitchcock wanted the audience to understand that the attack was it's own event within the entire story. Just like the overall film, he wanted the attack to have a beginning, middle and end. And he wanted it defined in 30 second segments so that the audience, on a subconscious level, would understand that this unique, important event, had it's own life.

How many of us think to that detail in order to create the maximum effect on the audience? Granted, that's a daunting task, but it's worth it if you want to be anything above ordinary. I don't think it's by coincidence that the more effective filmmakers are also storyboarders. Hitchcock, DePalma, Spielberg, the Coens, etc., they all storyboard and take the time, before hand, to define every shot, to make sure that the way that image is relayed on the screen is as potent as possible.

So, when your throwing together your next low to no-budget film, make sure you take the time to define your style, to determine what's going to make you so special? Will it be your story or your effects, your imagery or your characters? It can be anything, but make it stand out. Make sure that, when people hear about your next film, that they are immediately aware of the unique opportunity they have to view your work. The budget has many limitations, but it shouldn't impact your style. Each of us is a unique creature. Our job is to relay that individuality through moving pictures. And, then, we will have our own cinematic voice, our own unique, defined style.

The Three Most Important Words A Writer Needs To Remember...
By Pete Bauer

All writers eventually face a common, simple, deadly foe... writer's block. And writer's block usually comes down to one simple problem... we don't know what happens next. We may have an idea of what we want to happen, but not how to get there. So, we sit and stir and fuss and sweat and stare at the blank page trying to figure out why the words stopped coming. And the longer we sit, the more insurmountable the writer's block becomes until it evolves into the writer's second deadly foe... procrastination. Unchecked, days and months may pass with the empty page still waiting for the next injection of creative inspiration. If never overcome, the result is another unfinished project that sits in your desk drawer, reminding you of a great idea that was never fully realized.

In order to keep myself from sliding down that slippery slope, I've tacked three words above my desk. They read ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN. I have found these three words to be the most important words as a writer. Because, in reality, the blank page has no preference to what you place on it. It doesn't care. It's just a void that you're trying to fill and you can fill it with anything... absolutely anything.

Most writers will tell you that writing can often be a contradictory experience. When we start, we usually have a good idea of where we want the story to end up. But, once we begin writing, the characters slowly take on a life of their own. They become real people, with wills and attitudes and tastes and needs so when you get into the meat of the writing process, you're not so much writing as you are taking dictation from the characters who are now telling you what should happen next.

It's moments like these which are both the most rewarding and the most frustrating. You feel like you've got the wind at your back as the spirit of inspiration takes you down unplanned paths to exciting places you didn't expect. Then, suddenly, you find yourself wondering where the hell you are and how the hell you're going to get out? It's no longer the issue if this is where the story should lead... the characters have told you as much. Your job is to take it to the next step. To figure out… what happens next? If not careful, these are the moments where writer's block rears its ugly head. You can easily get stuck between your original vision of the story's path and the new one the writing process has created. And, it's at that moment, that I look on my wall and read the words ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN. And it frees me. It wipes the creative slate clean and allows me to let the story travel wherever it needs to go. Because, on the blank page, anything can happen, to anyone, at any time. It may not be the original intent, but it is what's right for the story, what's truthful to the characters, what is necessary for the fruition of the plot.

So, if you're ever faced with trying to figure out… what happens next? Remember, ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN. What's the most dramatic? What's the most appropriate? What's the most effective? It can be anything. And it's that freedom, that unlimited supply of possibilities, that is the greatest reward we get from this frustrating, inspiring and, ultimately, satisfying process called writing.

A Cry For Help... As Blood Spews From My Neck.
by Pete Bauer

I need help... understanding... education. I have to admit something that may offend some of you... but I hate horror movies. Not scary movies, not spooky movies, not boogy-man movies, but the blood splattering, in your face, knife-plunging, decapitation gory movies. I know there are a lot of people in this world who find some sort of entertainment from such films, otherwise the local video chains wouldn't be stocked with Children of the Corn Seven! But, I just don't get it... never have. And I need you fellow horror-film fans to explain it to me.

I remember when Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street and other flicks came out. I saw a few, but always found myself spending more of my time closing my eyes during the bloodfests than watching and finding enjoyment from it. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm too in touch with my sensitive side. Maybe I need an injection from the Wes Craven testosterone factory.

Don't get me wrong... I love suspense movies, scary, creepy, watch-out-for-the-bad-guy-behind-the-door films. The original Halloween is one of my favorite films of all time. So, it's not that I dislike the genre, just the more excessively bloody versions of it. Halloween worked so well for me because the graphic events are more implied than visual. It made me imagine... create what's going on as we hear the knife stabbing the older sister... we only see the knife through the eyes of the child's mask and since I have to fill in the gaps with my imagination, it makes it much more real than watching some clever special effect happen in front of me. After the initial attack on Halloween night, the setup of impending evil, the rest of the movie is really a stalker movie. He follows Jamie Lee around, standing ominously across the street in shadow or near the clothes lines... scares the living crap out of you. Even the last act, where all of the bloody mayhem ensues, is handled with restraint and is incredibly effective as we see this evil finally unleashed.

I guess my problem comes from the point of the attacks in these types of films. Cheaper versions of the genre just throw a bunch of scantily clad beauties in a central location and let the hacking begin. Obviously this works well. This standard storyline is repeated over and over again by just about every level of filmmaker and it always makes money. But, again, I just don't get it. I get offended seeing a knife plunge into the chest of a woman who's only crime is that she's in the wrong shower at the wrong time. I get offended when I see a guys neck slashed, blood spurt out and his head fall next to his lifeless body. Part of me has attached some sort of humanity to these characters and their loss, no matter how annoying the character is, is still a loss. That's just the way I am, I guess. I don't see them as plot devices that need to be hacked into oblivion, but people being killed. And, people dying gruesome deaths offends me. Maybe I'm just a frickin' wuss! Maybe I need to go through another round of puberty. But, that's how I react to gore-fest films. Now, I avoid them at all cost. I remember back to something my Dad said to me when I was young... "watch out what you put into your brain because you can never get it out." So, I weigh the value of allowing certain images into my head and seeing a water-logged Jason return for one more vivisection just doesn't seem a logical use of my brain... don't think I gain anything from experiencing the imagery.

Again, help me here. I'm not judging, I'm not criticizing, I'm just trying to get it. I'm trying to understand where the enjoyment is for fans of horror. Is it that you don't attach yourselves to the characters and just appreciate the effects as a fellow filmmaker? Does it tickle some dark fancy within you? Is it "just a frickin' movie" and I should get out of my cinematic diapers? Give it to me straight. I can take it. I know many of you make horror flicks, and from the response, apparently they're very successful. I'd love to see the works of Timberwolf Digital or Eric Stanze or a variety of other filmmakers out there because I LOVE low-budget films with an edge... as long as it's not the edge of a large kitchen knife with blood dripping from the end.

Hell, I'll admit it... part of me is a hypocrite. My first film was a Super 8 slasher flick where we got all excited that we were able to get a knife with blood on it to look real. So, I've been there as a filmmaker making the best effects we could with bailing wire, some chewing gum and loads of food coloring. And I envy people who can make films in the genre with continued success, on any level, not so much because of the story that they're telling, but because they have tapped into a profitable niche market. If it was in me, I'd make a billion lesbian vampire flicks and retire... but I just can't tell that type of story. It's not in my genome.

So help me out... help me understand what so many people see that I, apparently, just don't get. I'm a fellow filmmaker with a cry for help. Just educate me before you dissect me and feed me to your relatives at the next holiday gathering.

Writing What You Know... Second Best
by Pete Bauer

There's a common, useful theory for new screenwriters which is to "write what you know." This means to write about your own experiences instead of trying to write a space-epic-horror-musical. The purpose of this exercise is to allow the writer to learn to write without having to do a lot of real pre-writing work... since you're writing from your own experiences, you don't have to do a lot of research, character development, etc. If you've been a waiter for three years, then write a script about waiting tables. If, like Kevin Smith, you worked in a convenience store, write a script about Clerks.

And, as your experience grows, you will find your older scripts could use an injection of your newer life lessons. For example, Steven Spielberg, who wrote and directed Close Encounters of the Third Kind, stated that, now that he has been a father, he never would have written Close Encounters the same way. When he made the film, he was young and single, without any children. So, he had no issue with the main character, played by Richard Dreyfuss, deciding to leave his family to go do some intergalactic galaxy hopping with the nearby aliens. However, now, as a father and truly understanding the love and attachment a parent has for their children, he stated he could never write that Dreyfuss would leave his family. His real life experiences have taught him that it just wasn't believable. And any parent will tell you he's correct.

Like all new writers, I wanted to set the world on fire with my creative genius, but I found my first two scripts falling outside the world of believability. The first, Undetected Risk, was a script about college kids who accidentally receive a top secret satellite transmission. The second, Mirage, was about brainwashing experiments that turn average citizens into assassins. Both had enough quality substance and structure to know that I could write thrillers, however, both stories took place in a shallow world. Both took place in the only world my limited imagination could create. Since I was so young, the only brainwashing and government secret stories I had seen were on television, so most of my stories were written with those pre-fab TV worlds in mind... and in the end it meant my stories offered nothing truly original.

So, I decided to take the phrase "write what you know" to heart and wrote a romantic comedy about a drama student (me) who is dealing with the struggles of a college relationship, called A Moment In The Moonlight. It was based on all of my failed relationships I had to overcome during my college years. After writing this script I realized two things: One, that my characters were much more believable, and Two, the world they lived in was real and unique. Even though the script in its entirety is not spectacular, the experiment, the process of "writing what you know" was extremely helpful. It allowed me to grow as a writer by letting me focus on the process of actually writing 120 pages instead of struggling with trying to create characters and a world from scratch.

However, there's a serious downside to this that I have noticed more and more lately. As the proliferation of DV shorts and features stream from all of the creative minds across the nation, there are more and more stories about filmmakers. About filmmakers unable to make films. Of course, I'm certain that these were done because they were "writing what you know." But, I've got to tell you, most people DON'T CARE and CAN'T IDENTIFY with filmmakers. They see them and the process of filmmaking as uninteresting and they see filmmakers as necessary, creative freaks. So, they could care less about the struggles of a filmmaker. They only want to see the finished product... a quality film that allows them to escape their everyday lives for a couple of hours. If I see one more story about a struggling screenwriter, actor, director or producer, I think I'll vomit. I love making movies and I HATE watching stories about filmmakers... because, who cares? So, you're having trouble making your movie so you write about a filmmaker having trouble making a movie... unless it's because your potential financiers are actually Iraqi Underworld or something exciting, then why would I want to watch a story about your struggles when I'm having filmmaking struggles of my own. And if I'm not a filmmaker, then why should I care at all? Because, the reality is that usually the writers of these filmmaker stories aren't really good enough to make these types of stories universally appealing. It's a niche market that very few people are interested in.

Does that mean you shouldn't write about the struggles of filmmaking? No, the experience you gain from writing about it will make you a better writer for your next story. But, for God's sake, just don't make a film about it.

Hollywood still hasn't learned this lesson. They find any story about filmmakers as some sort of satire about their own lives. But, in the end, very few of these stories actually ever make any money or rarely bring any true notoriety to the writers and directors. Now, for some reason, the average public IS still fascinated with the lives of the stars. And, trying to cash in, Hollywood decided it would be interesting to make a film about a star and the whole Hollywood-Star experience. So they made America's Sweetheart. Considering the talent on and off the screen, this thing should have been a blockbuster. However, it got mediocre reviews and luke-warm box office receipts. Because, like I said before, NO ONE CARES. Every once and a while some of these stories have enough edge to be successful, such as Swimming With Sharks, Living In Oblivion, and Misery (a writer wrote about a writer). But for the most part, these stories are not appealing.

The writer we could all learn from in overcoming this dilemma is Rod Serling of The Twilight Zone. Serling was a genius and he wrote the bulk of those classic episodes. However, when he started to get creative burnout near the end of the series run, instead of writing about writers having burnout, he wrote about burnout in general. He wrote about advertising executives or plumbers or husbands having burnout. He turned his own experiences into something everyone could identify with simply by changing the employment in which the main character was experiencing the burnout. Suddenly, we participate in the pressure and helplessness of the characters because we think they are just like us... average people who happen to be having extraordinary experiences.

"Writing what you know" is a great way of getting new writers into the writing game. But, when you decide what to shoot, please, please, please choose a story about something you know... second best.

My Safari to the Land of Foo
By Pete Bauer

It's official… I have been Foo-ified. I have immersed myself in the land of Foo on the continent of Pangaea and have lived to tell the tale. A few weeks ago I received, in a simple USPS box, a collection of 13 Fade to Black episodes, containing a total of 33 short films. I, like many of you, had heard so much about the ravenous filmmakers of the greater Northeast and wanted to experience what all of the fuss was about. So, I shuffled off my humble check to the friends of Foo and have watched all 13 episodes. (Episodes 14 and 15 have since been completed, but I haven't seen them yet).

First, I should state that I am of the belief that if anyone out there is capable of completing any project, no matter how long it takes and no matter what the end quality is, that you deserve a sincere round of applause. Any of us who have tried, failed and tried again, to make a short film know just how many obstacles stand between the simple idea stage to the completed film stage. Beyond that, I look for ingenuity in concept, implementation or presentation. I expect the basics (visual composition, a steady camera, competent acting, adequate sound) as a minimum and hope for more.

Now, what I'm not going to do is review each project individually, because, to be honest, I'm not that good of a reviewer… and that really wasn't the point of writing this article. But, I will share my overall experiences in my short, intense visit to the land of Foo. First, let's start with the obvious… VOLUME! These guys crank out more titles than some porn distributors! It's amazing the mere volume of work that is done by this dedicated group of people. I marvel at the fact that I'm able to complete one project a year. These guys have completed over 50 and have made available over 30 in the Fade to Black series. I know it's been said before, but that's frickin' amazing. Nuff said.

Second, let's talk about originality. Overall, the stories these guys/gals are telling are quite original in concept. Some are supernatural, some are funny and some are straight dramas. Do they all pay off as well as they could in the end? No. But most of them get pretty darn close. And with each project, the scope of the stories appear to be growing, which is nice to see. And Jason Santo seems to be the Stephen King of the group, prolific and with a non-conventional edge to his stories. And, again, the skill of the way the stories unfold has continually improved with each project, which is critical.

Third, let's talk about production value… and I'm not talking about available skin on the screen (and I'm excluding Santo shirtless). I'm talking about the quality of directing and camerawork. To be honest, in the beginning, this concerned me slightly because there were a lot of times, I thought, where shaky hand-camera work could have been replaced by a steadier tripod with no ill effect, I believe, on the shots being attempted or the time it would take to shoot it. But, more importantly, they have continued to improve in this area. As you move up the Fade to Black food chain, the quality of the direction and camerawork steadily improves. There is more visual direction, more emotional impact created by the shots selected. And that's important to me and stems from my own personal bias. I like visual directors more than others (DePalma, Hitchcock, Bay, etc.). I like seeing style along with substance, so I tend to gravitate to projects which do the same. And the Foo camerawork has improved with each project, which has led to more effective editing and performances. If there were no visible growth in their ability to direct, then I would have been concerned. However, with each new project they seem to be expanding their horizons, raising the bar and attempting more ambitious projects. Otherwise, what's the point?

Fourth, let's talk about acting. The Foo ensemble has a nice mix of personalities. Each have their strengths and, for the most part, put themselves in a position where they can showcase what they do best as actors. However, I must take a moment to point out the two best actors in the group, in my humble opinion – Jason Santo and Dan Gorgone. Good acting, on any level, consists of two basic things, relaxation and commitment. Relaxation in the sense that the actor relaxes into the role, you never feel like they are pushing or "acting" but merely being someone else. And secondly, commitment, which is important when portraying a normal role in an odd story or an odd role in a normal story. In order for those things to work, the actor has to commit fully to the role or situation, no matter how weird it may seem. And by committing, the audience buys into it because the actors have fully bought into it. And both Santo and Gorgone succeed at both of these things. And, to my surprise, they are equally adept at both comedy and drama. Santo has an intensity that makes me wonder if he'd kick my ass if I ever meet him in person. Not that he'd have a reason to kick my ass, but he just might because of a bad chicken parmesan or something like that. And, I must add a special nod to Gorgone, who can be a frickin' nut in one film, a humble husband in another and then a scary stalker in the next, all convincing… chameleon like actually. He's got it all together.

Out of the plethora of stories I've watched over the past few weeks, I'd like to mention some of my favorites stops in the land of Foo (in alphabetical order):

51 – Nice direction, solid acting, good story. Good work.
Friends of P – Funnier than when I saw it the first time over the internet. Goofy and fun.
Hell Awaits – Ambitious, intense, well done.
House Rules – when this started I was afraid… I thought it was something someone threw together when no one was home. But, I was wrong and the humor and story were so well done that I was laughing out loud. The voices were great, the humor was tremendous. Hilarious.
Just Dessert – Funny story is infused with new, quality acting talent.
Killing Time – Nice camerawork, story and acting. Good work.
Marisa – Nice visuals, good direction, great implementation.
Paths – Excellent. Nice visuals, nice story, and Gorgone spooked me. My personal favorite.
The Quiet Day – Nice visuals, simple and effective acting, nice story.
Sykes Tangent and the Angel of Death – Great story idea, great villain, can't wait to see where this series goes.
Twice Upon A Time – Epic with lots of fisticuffs. Good use of combining an old film project with a new idea.
Voice of Reason – Excellent acting, nicely directed, excellent story.
Wordbox – Interesting, unique story, nice cinematography, good acting.

When you look at the massive work of Foo/Pangaea, you could try to focus on any number of reasons as to why this group is so successful. But, I believe the greatest thing these guys and gals have going for them is an overall sense of enjoyment they bring to their projects. You can tell that they love doing what they do. The love they have hanging around with each other, being friends and making movies. Out of all of their accomplishments, this is the one that I think most of us would envy. It's rare that you can get a project finished. It's even more rare that the experience is rewarding on a creative AND personal level. And it's even more rare that you could repeat that success with the same people over and over in a way that showcases not only your talents, but your long-term friendships. When people look at what makes Foovies so special, it's not only the volume or the consistent quality of the work, but comradery that they share on and off the screen.

So, thanks for the enjoyable trip to the Land of Foo. I look forward to the next stop on your never-ending journey.

Structure or Stricture
By Pete Bauer

Does structure help or hurt the indy filmmaker? This is a question that is often pondered by young writers. Before delving into the specifics of this question, I think it's important to narrow the scope slightly. First off, experimental pieces are, by their nature, structure-less at least or, if they have a structure, it's not readily apparent. What I'm talking about in this article is the basic Three Act structure used in narratives.

There are a lot of different writers that tell you how to write screenplays, but they all come down to the simple, basic structure.

Act One = Beginning
Act Two = Middle
Act Three = End

Act One:
1-10 - Main Character defined
11-30 - Define Character's world
Pg 30 - Plot Point 1. Where the Main Character's world is turned upside down.

Act Two:
31-45 - The goal or objective for the main character is begun.
Pg 45 - an Action that propels the story forward.
46-60 - The character faces obstacles to that challenge.
Pg 60 - A Major Action occurs to propel the story forward.
60-75 - Character faces challenges associated with Major Action.
Pg 75 - an Action occurs that propels the story forward.
76-90 - More challenges.
Pg 90 - Plot Point II. Where the Main Character's objective is turned upside down.

Act Three:
91-110 - Main Character overcomes obstacles toward resolution.
110-120 - Main Character achieves resolution.

Act One:
1-10 - Main Character defined
Jones gets and loses Idol. You learn he can do anything, hates snakes, has an arch enemy and escapes death while barely breaking a sweat. Probably the best opening 10 minutes in film history.
11-30 - Define Character's world
Find out he's a teacher, has past with Marian, sells to Museum, is approached by Army Intelligence to pursue the Ark of the Covenant.
Pg 30 - Plot Point 1. Where the Main Character's world is turned upside down.
Goes after Ark.

Act Two:
31-45 - The goal or objective for the main character is begun.
Flies to Nepal, finds Marian, discover she drinks like a sailor.
Pg 45 - an Action that propels the story forward.
Nazis come to bar looking for artifact, burn down bar, Marian must go with them.
46-60 - The character faces obstacles to that challenge.
Flies to Cairo, finds Sallah (sp?), has artifact read, almost gets poisoned.
Pg 60 - A Major Action occurs to propel the story forward.
Finds Ark.
60-75 - Character faces challenges associated with Major Action.
Is caught by Nazis, encased in ground, gets out.
Pg 75 - an Action occurs that propels the story forward.
Fights off Nazis, gets truck and Ark.
76-90 - More challenges.
Gets truck to ship, sets sail, has tender moment with Marian.
Pg 90 - Plot Point II. Where the Main Character's objective is turned upside down.
Loses Ark and Loses Girl to nemesis.

Act Three:
91-110 - Main Character overcomes obstacles toward resolution.
Jumps ship, literally, climbs aboard sub, impersonates Nazi, threatens to blow up Ark, relents.
110-120 - Main Character achieves resolution.
Ark nukes the baddies, is given to Army Intelligence, stored in warehouse, gets the girl.

Raiders is a perfect example of classic story structure. It's so effective because it fills each element, each step in the story-telling process with an immense amount of activity and seemingly insurmountable odds for Jones to overcome. But, could Lawrence Kasdan have written just as an effective story without this structure? Maybe... maybe not. I doubt it.

For me, structure does not limit you, it frees you. It keeps you focused on the goal, which is the climax of the film. It keeps you grounded so that you don't wander off on tangents. The three act structure is just a skeleton. How well you write the story is what you put on that skeleton. It's your talent, not structure, that turns that skeleton into either Mr. Universe or the 95 pound weakling who gets sand kicked in his face at the beach.

I think it's also important to note that we humans innately want structure in our lives. Children, for example, want rules, no matter how often they complain about it. Employees want to know what is expected of them so they know when they are succeeding. And movie goers, I believe, want structure in their story-telling... it's comforting. I don't think they know this on a conscious level, but you always know when a film works or not. It's like when you watch a film by a master director... you're not aware of everything that the director is throwing at you, but you feel it, you recognize on some level that the director is in control and you're just a rider on their cinematic rollercoaster.

I know many of you reading this may disagree with me. You'll quote many instances where films didn't follow the standard three-act structure. But, I'll bet that these are the exceptions to the rule. If our end result is to make it as professional filmmakers, then we better start practicing what is expected as story-tellers. After all, both L.A. Confidential and Porky's followed the three act structure. They are vastly different films, but they both are based on the same basic skeleton.

How does this apply to non-feature length story-telling? Well, the basic Beginning, Middle and End still exist. The same percentage of time could be given to each (Beginning 25%, Middle 50%, End 25%). We can practice this style of story-telling without having to make features. But, if you decide to make features, you'll be much better at expanding the story within the same structure then having to learn the structure from scratch.

I also know that not following structure may be a specific, cinematic choice. If a director wants to create an emotional impact on the audience, they may choose to follow their instincts and damn structure. If it works, more power to you! After all, we're all just trying to make stories that have some sort of impact. But, in the end, I believe that we all gravitate back to a structure of story-telling, whether we are aware of it or not. And, in doing so, we become another reason why the three-act structure is accepted and expected in filmdom today.

The Last Broadcast - REvisited
By Pete Bauer

Let me just start this article by stating two things:

1) Being a recent contributor of this website I don't know if this subject was already covered.
2) If so, it's worth covering again.

This past Monday afternoon, as I recovered from an all night drive from a family event in Atlanta, I sat on my couch and watched The Last Broadcast on HBO. This film was made back in 1998 by Stefan Avalos and Lance Weiler and is an example of all that is potentially right with amateur, ultra low-budget filmmaking. I remember reading about it and visiting their website when the film was first completed. I remember that they spent only $900 on the film and used this new, cool technology called Digital Video. I remember reading that they were the first film digitally distributed, via satellite, to a few select art film houses across the U.S., including the Enzian in Orlando, Florida. Then, life went on and the dreaded Blair Witch Project reared it's ugly head. At first I thought it was The Last Broadcast renamed. But, later I fell for the hype and build-up of the Blair Witch Project only to go away from the theater thinking it was one of the most overly-hyped ineffective uses of my time, exceeded only by another pathetic little film known as The Phantom Menace. But I digress...

The Last Broadcast was not so effective because of its use of DV or Adobe Photoshop or any technical wizardry. It succeeded because it had a great story and they used their financial limitations as creative solutions instead of artistic excuses. There's a quote from Robert Rodriguez that goes something like this... "You're gonna come up with problems everyday on your set. You can get rid of the problem one of two ways - you can do it creatively or you can wash it away with the money hose. You got no money, you got no hose." And Avalos and Weiler formatted their film to fit their limitations. Their idea was to shoot a fake documentary... which, by now, has become all too common. But, what was so effective about it was the way they let the story unfold.

Unlike Bore Witch, this story had a plot and every character in the film was believable and convincing. Broadcast succeeded because it treated the documentary like a mystery. If you've ever watched Nova or Front Line (yes, that means you'd have to be watching PBS), then you would see the best documentaries made today, because they don't bore you with fact after fact, they give you the problem or task of the documentary and lead you down a path that unfolds like an Sherlock Holmes tale. I mean, if Front Line can make an hour-long documentary on mathematical proofs interesting, they can do anything! And the guys from Broadcast used the same technique. They give you the end of the story, then relay the beginning, unraveling the plot slowly and effectively, leading you down one path, only to change courses and go down another, and so on. Unfortunately, the brain trusts behind Hollywood did not deem Avalos and Weiler worthy to grace them with the winning indy film lottery ticket which, instead, went to Blair Witch. And because of the similarities of the stories and the "controversy" behind which film came out first (for the record, Broadcast came out first), these two vastly different film watching experiences will be forever linked. As a matter of fact, you can get a new DVD 2-pack with both Blair Witch and Last Broadcast! Lucky for Avalos and Weiler, this tactic may finally expose which are the better filmmakers. I've never understood why the makers of BW have ever received accolades... I mean if the dialogue was improvised and the camera work was done by the actors then what exactly did the "directors" of this film do? But, I digress... again. My point of this rant is this, we should watch Broadcast to see what is possible with very little. It's a perfect example of how, above all else, a quality story and effective use of limited resources can create a compelling and believable film. And perhaps those Witchidiots who purchase the 2-pack will stumble across Broadcast and realize that the "B-side" is the vastly better film.

I visited the Internet Movie Database before writing this rant to discover that Avalos and Weiler have done nothing since Broadcast. I hope that, when we create something so effective out of virtually nothing, that we are treated better by those in "the know." I know most of us live in a world where we feel that if we're just given a chance to show our talent, that we'll be able to make a living at this whole movie making thing. However, if you compare the way Broadcast and Blair Witch have been treated, you'll have to come to the unsettling realization that, though it may take talent to make your mark, you'll need a lot more than talent in order to do this for a living.

Exploding Heads and Bare Naughty Bits
By Pete Bauer

The primary goal of filmmakers is to evoke emotion from their audience. Those directors who've admitted as much and tailored their films to maximize audience reaction (Hitchcock, Spielberg, etc.) have often been criticized for being so effective at it! As if it were some sort of flaw to actually make an audience cry when they were supposed to. Somehow, because they were able to effect every audience member (not just the illustrious critics), their work has sometimes been disregarded as "popcorn" or "light-weight." It seems that, only after they're dead or they make a dark film are they actually applauded for their talents.

Directors can use a variety of ways to evoke audience reaction. Depending on the subject matter, directors can use shock (exploding heads) or sexuality (bare naughty bits). In my opinion, however, the most talented directors use neither. The most effective directors use the audience's own imagination. Of course, this depends on what type of genre you're shooting. If you're shooting a horror flick, splashing a little blood or creatively exercising some digits from the body may fit the bill. The most powerful true horror films utilize the audience's imagination more than special effects. Halloween, for example, was so effective because there wasn't that much blood, just that scary shadow across the street, seemingly staring at you. And sometimes, exploding heads is just what you need. I mean, Saving Private Ryan was brutally violent, but it was World War II, after all. The violence had a reason. But, sex and violence are used best when they are trying to create a cinematic atmosphere, not as gimmicks. If there isn't a real reason for it, then utilizing the audience's imagination is the best course.

I believe that, in most instances, the weakest choice a director can make is to show a naked breast or show someone getting killed. The most erotic scene for me was in The Last Emperor where the Emperor makes love to his two wives. They move and twist and moan and turn, all completely covered under silk sheets. You only see unrecognizable movement and hear pleasure, but you imagine what's going on under there and that is what makes it so effective. Sure, the director could have chosen to shoot it like any number of bad late-night Cinemax sex/caper flicks, but the director chose a subtle way to portray the scene with maximum impact. If you show it to me, I react to it. If I imagine it, I help create it and truly feel it with you. The latter is always much more powerful.

And I guess that's what the great directors do… there is not one shot in their films that is not there for a specific reason. If the shot is a long shot of two people talking, it's for a reason. If it's a CU of hands fidgeting at a table, it's for a reason. And the great directors' reasons are beyond just setting the camera up to get it shot. Each shot is there in part or in whole to make the audience feel something. Hitchcock, for example, decided in Dial M For Murder that the scene where Grace Kelly gets attacked needed to be a separate "event" in the film. He wanted a beginning, middle and end to the scene that the audience, whether consciously or not, would know that the violence was over. So, he structured each part of the scene to last 30 seconds. The part where Grace Kelly answers the phone is 30 seconds, the part where she is attacked is 30 seconds, the part where she recovers from the attack is 30 seconds. He did the same thing in Psycho with the shower scene, except each part of the attack was 40 seconds in length. How many of us take that much time to determine how best to tell each scene? It's daunting!

It amazes me how many films on cable simply relay the story instead of telling the story. They have the standard long shot, medium shot, close up for every scene. They move the camera in on the main actor once or twice a scene, if that, and then go onto the next scene. The camera remains usually stationary and at eye level. It's like I'm stuck watching the graduate projects from the "TV Movie of the Week" film school. As directors, we all look at the pages of a script. They're basically generic. There's some explanation of events, but the actual scene is created by how the director puts each shot together. I know, especially in amateur filmland, that, due to time, resources or other limitations, sometimes the only thing we can do is set up the camera, get the shot and then get the hell out of there. But, if we do that more than not, we're doing ourselves a disservice.

We have a great opportunity to experiment as amateur filmmakers. Actually, there is no better time to experiment because no one is breathing over your neck waiting to see if your vision is going to give them a return on their investment. I hope that every time someone plops in one of our flicks into the VCR, that we are able to move them, in some way. That we're able to engage their imagination and make them an active participant in the film-watching experience. That we make them laugh when they're supposed to laugh, cry when they're supposed to cry and cringe when they're supposed to cringe. Then our accomplishment moves beyond the fact that we got the project done... but that we got it done well. And then, maybe one day, we all will be called "pop-corn" directors. Then we'll know we're doing it right!

Note to Self
by Pete Bauer

Well, as I wrap up JUSTICE I made a few mental notes on the things I've learned from my experience.

1) My wife loves me so much she allowed herself to be in this project even though every atom in her genome screamed in protest. She HATES being on camera, but she did it because the project meant a lot to me. And, that sacrifice meant infinitely more to me than making the film itself.

2) My best friend defined the term "best friend" by always being there, whatever day, whatever hour necessary to complete the project. Without him, or my wife, this thing would still be collecting dust in my desk drawer.

3) Along those same lines... spending time with my family and friends to make this project is worth the price you pay when you do these no-budget things. Their dedication drove me to complete the project while overcoming surgery and hurricanes. Leaving it unfinished devalues their sacrifice for the project and I couldn't let that happen, no matter how convenient dropping the project would have been.

4) After promising myself that I'd never act in any of my projects again, I was forced to take over a role abandoned by my brother and it made me realize the reason I'm ALWAYS in my projects... because I know that I'll be there when the director (me) needs me. You can't really say that about many people in this world (except for #1 and #2).

5) Storyboards saved my life. When shooting with no money and no time in places you don't have permission to be in, it's easy to get distracted and lose your train of thought. Having storyboards made sure that every shot I needed, I got.

6) Editing while you shoot rocks. Non-linear editing makes the process much easier. Every night, after shooting, I'd digitize and edit the project. I'd immediately know what worked, what didn't and what shots to add to fix it. And the fact that you can actually do all this stuff on a crappy little computer is amazing in of itself. Just a few years ago all of this would have been impossible... or damn expensive.

7) If a scene doesn't work either cut it or reshoot it. There's no excuse for keeping a shot or a scene in a project that will only undermine the purpose for shooting it in the first place.

8) MPEG-1 quality sucks. I had viewed most MPEG-1 projects on my computer from the web. It looks a LOT better using the pixels on your computer than it ever does "blown up" on your television. But, since the goal of the project was to use what I got, then I'll suck it up and take my lumps when everyone pans the thing for looking so pathetic.

9) Newly acquired access to an MPEG-2 digitizer made me realize that I'll probably end up re-editing this thing all over again once the thought of recreating months of work no longer nauseates me.

10) It always takes three times longer than planned to shoot a scene.

11) Creating music from Sony Mixman is easy and challenging at the same time. If it would only give you the ability to view your work in seconds instead of beats, life would have been SO much easier. Jack O. (our composer) and I had to develop the virtue of patience in order to survive this process.

12) The hardest thing to maintain over months of shooting is the length of your actors' hair.

13) When acting in a project, never agree to use the clothes you like best. After wearing it off and on for six months or so, you'll end up wanting to burn it in ritual sacrifice to the gods of wardrobe.

14) Never have characters park their car in an empty parking lot. It looks extremely unrealistic. The only thing it conveys is the place they're going to is closed.

15) Direct with confidence. Amateur actors feed off of you... if they think you know exactly what you're doing, they do whatever you want.

16) Nothing can compensate for a story with bad logic... so fix it before you shoot it.

17) Getting people enthused enough to be in your project is not that hard. Keeping them enthused six months later when they're in the last scenes that need to be shot is MUCH harder.

18) It's nice to know that what you actually imagine in your head actually works on film/video.

19) You've wasted everyone's time and effort if the project is left unfinished.

20) You've done something right when your simple little premiere party costs more than your project.

I can't wait to start on the next one...

When Your Friends Suck as Actors
by Pete Bauer

This is a problem we've all faced. You have a great idea for a project. The story is unique and cool and everything, but the only people you can get in your movie for free are your friends. They have many tremendous talents, however, acting isn't one of them. What can you do? Well, here's a couple of suggestions:

Do It Anyway - The premise here is you don't give a crap that your friends can't act and you go with what you got. This often happens because, in the real world, sometimes we don't have a choice. It's either use your friends or don't make the film. So, you make the film and pray for the best. The plus side is that you're shooting the flick. The down side is that you'll either have a sucky short, you'll delete most of the dialogue before shooting, or you'll have to do your best to save it in editing. This is the best approach if you're looking at your project as an experiment in filmmaking (writing, directing, style, etc.).

Rehearse Until You Puke - Rehearsal, for the most part, is a good thing. Every shoot ends up rehearsing in some fashion, even if it's right before you start recording. But, if you can afford it, setting aside some time specifically for rehearsal can help. For people with semi-talent, this is a good way for them to hone their skills. However, this takes time, which, like money, is usually in short supply. Plus, some people are better NOT rehearsing, because the more they rehearse the more they sound... well, rehearsed... and less believable, less spontaneous. And if you're using real actors (see below), you should hold at least one read-through (where everyone sits around the table and reads the script out loud) and one rehearsal (where you walk them through what's gonna happen and how you're going to stage it). You have to know your actors and their limitations before determining how deep your rehearsals should go.

Make an Action Flick - This works because most of the film is action anyway, so you don't have to suffer from your friends trying to act. Because the real problem with non-actors acting isn't their face, but their voice. It's how they sound that makes you buy it or not. Even the slightest hint of "Look, I've memorized this line and I sound like I memorized it instead of just thought of it" pulls the audience right out of the film and makes them wince uncontrollably. So, action films work because your friends just have to run, jump, shoot, blow-up, etc.

Also, try to keep what I call "Arnold Lines" out of your films. These are stupid little lines Arnold S. says that replaces supposed wit with stupidity. Example: Arnold sets a guy on fire with his ass. Arnold Line - "He looks a little hot under the collar." Roger Moore did a lot of these during his stint as James Bond and the series hasn't recovered yet. Only Arnold can pull it off... sometimes. More than likely your friends won't be able to pull it off either.

And it doesn't have to be an action flick. It can be any flick, actually, as long as you structure it with minimal dialogue. Visuals are always better in movies anyway. Which goes to the next option...

Mute It - This is my favorite option. Don't have any dialogue at all. This was almost mandatory when shooting in Super 8 and it shouldn't change much if you're shooting in Hi-8 or Digital 8. Granted, it depends on what you're trying to accomplish, but film is supposed to be a visual medium anyway. You can tell ANY story visually. But, it's a lot harder. It's easier to have the girl say, "I love you." It's much harder to show it visually without being corny. But, that's the reason to take out as much dialogue as possible. It forces you to think visually. Plus, you can yell at your friends while you're shooting, telling them what they're thinking at the time. That way they look like they just thought of it because you just mentioned it to them... you walk them through their thoughts so they don't have to. We did this exclusively on JUSTICE. It made shooting a lot quicker because I didn't have to worry about sound interrupting the scene (car horn, airplane, drive-by shooting, etc.). Just act like you're going to have to shoot your movie in a library and then figure out how to tell the story the way you wanted.

Echo It - This is something you should only do if you have no other choice. And, you really have to shoot your project correctly in order for this to work. But, you say all the lines for your actors before they say it. In the acting world, this is called giving a Line Reading and real actors hate it. For example, your actor keeps saying the line "But what about how I feel?" and you want them to say "But what about how I feel?", stressing the action instead of the pronoun (which is ALWAYS a stronger choice). So, what you do is set up the shot, have them look at the other actor, then you say the line as YOU want it to be said and have the actor echo it back to you, saying it over and over again until they get it right. This is much more time consuming, but you can get a vastly stronger performance out of novices if they, and you, have the patience for the process.

Go Pro and Pro Bono - This last option is the most obvious. Get real actors. As long as their not affliated with SAG, you'd be surprised how little you have to pay a real actor to act. Many times, you can get them for free. Real actors love to act. Just like any other skilled professional, they'd rather be working on their craft than sitting around doing nothing. So, ask real actors. The easiest way to "audition" local actors is to see their work. If you want to get real actors for little to no money, you have to support their profession, or appear to support their profession. So, go out and see some local plays. Those actors with talent, make sure you stop backstage after the show to tell them how you liked their performance. This is common practice and actors love positive feedback... that's part of why they do the job. Introduce yourself as a director who's throwing together a project. If they show interest (which MOST actors will), tell them about it, tell them the story line, see how they react. But, the most important thing is to tell the truth. If they ask how much it pays, tell them "nothing", but you'll feed them, give them a copy of the finished product and they'll have something that will stand out on their resume.

You can also hold auditions. This costs you nothing but an afternoon. When you publicize your audition make sure you state that you're NOT going to pay them anything, but they'll get a copy of the finished product. Actors currently not acting usually have flexible jobs, in case a gig comes up (that's why so many of them are waiters or temps). Working actors usually work everyday but Monday, so, if you can, schedule the audition from Monday afternoon through the evening. Actors are not morning people, so never schedule it in the morning. The worst that can happen is no one shows up to audition. More than likely, however, someone will. And they may be perfect.

As Jason Santo mentioned in one of his articles, in the real world image is everything, so be professional and act professional. Don't hold the auditions in your house, but find a location that looks like you have something to offer. Most auditions happen in empty theater stages or offices, so get access to an office or even use a warehouse or garage. Anything is better than auditioning in someone's living room while you're little brother plays Play Station in the background.

And, remember, whatever promises you make to actors, deliver on them. The acting community is a close knit group. You don't want your name or company given a bad rep or you'll never get any good actors. However, if the experience is positive and they enjoy the process, they'll be back and they'll bring their real actor friends with them.

We all have friends. Unfortunately, we all don't have real actors as friends. So do the best you can. Set yourself up to succeed by recognizing the limitations of your resources (time, money, talent) and utilize them correctly. Remember, it's not about settling for less, but making something out of nothing.

What I Want to Be When I Grow Up
by Pete Bauer

One of the most common challenges young filmmakers have to face is unrealistic expectations. Not of their abilities, but of the timeframe of their success. As the elder statesman of this group (I'm assuming as I'm just over 30) I can tell you that when you think things should happen and when they will likely happen are two very different things. Take whatever timeframe you have in your head for when you think you should be a success and multiply it by five.

Jason Santo's article "Well, I'm Kinda Doing What I Want..." was stunning to me because, only a few years ago I went through the same internal struggle... "am I selling out?" By who's definition are we defining "selling out?" The way Hollywood spews out its hype, if you're not a feature director by 21 you're over the hill. That's crap. Not everyone can be a prodigy like Spielberg or Orson Welles. That's what makes them so special, because they are so far outside of the norm. The reality for every single person I know in show business that has had ANY sort of lasting success (i.e., working regularly) is that they have dedicated 10 years of hard work to becoming an "overnight sensation." That's the average. And that's working at it everyday.

Probably the most important thing I've learned about people so far is that they do what they want to do. Never pay attention to what people say, only to what they do. If people want to lose weight, they do. If they want to change careers, they do. If they want to get out of a relationship, they do. It's about priorities and pain. When something becomes painful enough, you change, whether it's a career, a relationship, eating habits, etc. So, if you really want to be a major film director then move to Hollywood, learn how to kiss people's asses and work your way up the food chain. Start as a runner (getting coffee, running errands) on any studio shoot and go from there. I've been a runner before and I've met people who think they're too good to be a runner. But, to quote a friend of mine who's a VP at Nickelodeon Studios, "If you can't run errands right, what makes you think someone is going to let you do anything else?" EVERY person I've met who works behind the camera, including the VP, started out as a runner, so don't expect the rules to be different for you.

For me, it took me a LONG time to realize that what I was saying to people was one thing, but what I was doing was something else. I kept saying I was going to move to California and start my way up, but the reality was that I was doing the exact opposite. It took me quite some time to realize that my wife and, at that time, newborn daughter were more important to me and the reason I wasn't moving. I realized that it was more painful to me to move my wife and kid across the country just so I could be a runner than it was to stay put for a little while and just focus on writing. I realized that raising my child (and now children) in a safe area with family nearby was more important than trying to reach some unrealistic timeframe of success. So, I refocused my energies and decided to write as much as possible. Recently, I've decided to add shooting no-budget flicks to my creative plate. I've finally realized how the realities of my life are going to fit into my life-long goal of being a filmmaker.

Whatever you really want to do, you'll do. Just recognize it and accept it, then go from there. This isn't a sprint, but a marathon. It's not important how long it takes to reach your goals, only what you're doing while you get there. All of you making shorts and features with your friends right now will become much better story tellers when your opportunity arrives. If you keep plugging away you WILL get your opportunity, so be as prepared as you possibly can. Shoot as many projects as you can. Become a better writer, director, actor... whatever you want to do. Do it as often as you can. Like anything else, you'll get better the more you do it. I spent years focusing only on writing. I've had a modicum of success at that and I keep working at it. Now I'm also focusing on directing and creating as many no-budget projects as my time and resources will allow. If you're truly passionate about telling stories, then you're in it for the long haul. Just keep focused on the goal and you'll reach it... eventually.

The Grass is Always Greener
by Pete Bauer

The one thing you can count on in life is that you're never satisfied. It's what's helped mankind overcome hardships, put a man on the moon and make the Porky's films. And when you and your buddies get together like the Little Rascals to "put on a show" you always wish you had more time, more money and, for some, more talent. Some of you are reaching for the ultimate goal of making a living making movies. I think we'd all love that. But, take it from someone who's been in television and film, making films with your buddies is some of the best times you'll ever have. Not only do you have creative control, but you also have the most important factor... fun.

I've been writing feature screenplays since high-school. Some have been bought, some have been made and some outright suck. I took my first dip into real filmdom when I co-wrote a film called ADRENALINE with a director friend of mine. She worked for years trying to raise the money to do it the old fashioned way and it was taking too long. So, she got with some stunt friends of hers and came up with a premise for a film. We banged out the script, READY, WILLING & ABLE, scrounged together an amazingly small amount of money and they shot it two years ago on film. It's got foreign distribution and they're still looking for domestic. And now they're back to the original cause, raising money for ADRENALINE again.

So, when I look at the big picture, I realized that I've been very fortunate. I've been able to live in the "dreaded" real world while my friends have done a lot of the grunt work in LALA Land. My friends been able to pound the Hollywood pavement while I've been able to stay in Florida, married and with a couple of great kids. In a lot of ways, my RWA co-horts are my heroes... their dedication and time involved in pursuing the completion of RWA has been amazing to me. But, in the same respect, I don't envy them at all. The day-to-day networking and ass-kissing seems inconceivable at times. I've participated as much as possible, but it didn't take me long to realize that I'd rather spend time with my children then with somebody who knows somebody who may have an uncle who just won the lottery and who may want to invest in a film that is important for my career, but not important to anyone else. But, in the time it's taken to get one film made and another working toward financing, a lot of you have made scores of short films. If your anything like the frenzied people at Random Foo and Pangaea, you've made 50 films in that time! So, the question is, who's better at telling stories? The people who made one film or the people who've made 50?

And the sad fact is that business of show business stinks. I went out to LA to go to the American Film Market and I've got to tell you the distribution process is offensive. In many ways it's legalized prostitution. You see so many people all trying to do the same thing and selling their creative souls in the process, each one trying to snatch the money out of the handful of people who have it. The end result is a mish-mash of similiar films with low-end actors in predictable stories. At least within the limited budgetary scope of RWA we tried to be unique in the characters and action, but, in the end, this probably hurt us more than help. And as broadband becomes more available to internet users, the distribution chains will evolve and you won't have to sell your soul to get someone other than your family to watch your stuff. REwind Theater is a perfect example. So, there is some light at the end of the distribution tunnel.

Everything comes down to priorities and sacrifice. And at this stage of my life, until I get an ungodly inheritance from some Uncle I've never met or my wife and kids decide they don't need to eat anymore, I've rejoined the ranks of the Amateurs again (and since I've made so little in filmdom so far, this isn't much of a leap). I've gone back to my Super-8 roots and have decided to "put on a show" called JUSTICE. When I'm done, I'll open it up for public scrutiny and mockery. I'll learn from it and move on to the next one. After all, we all just want to tell stories. Some are better at it than others, but the point is that we each have something to say. Do I still want to make "real" movies when I grow up? You bet. But, I've realized that getting my friends together to shoot a harmless flick is some of the best fun I can have.

Enjoy the process, enjoy the friendship and enjoy tapping into one of the basic human urges... telling stories. Because, we all know, our films probably aren't going to change the world, but they will change our world.