Movie Lovers Only

If you don’t already know, I’m directing and co-producing a short film from one of my original scripts, entitled Absolution.  I’ll give periodic updates on this blog to give everyone an inside look at the process of making this film.

Selling an Idea for Free

It sure would be nice if all potential screenwriters could submit their scripts directly to Hollywood, and various directors would sort through them one by one, looking for the masterpiece they could buy for $1 million and turn into a blockbuster.  The reality is that getting a masterful script into the hands of Steven Spielberg is a little more involved than that.  I’m going to need a strong resume of Hollywood films, and for that, I’ll need to get my screenplays filmed, and for that, I’ll need representation, and for that, I’ll need some successful background in film, and for that, I’ll need to make something that works.

Which leads me to where I am now.  Without any of that.

In February, I went to the 24 Hour Film School in Columbus and was advised, like all the other attendees, that the best way to get experience at this stage is to make a short film.  You have locations (your house, your friend’s house, and where you work), you have equipment (community television cameras are free), and you have actors (yourself and your buddies).  Everything you need, and anything you don’t have can be obtained on a Wal-Mart budget.

So I wrote a short film.  To be completely honest, it’s a page-one rewrite of an idea I had in college, with the advantage of my education over the past two years.  That took no time whatsoever, and I was pretty happy with the finished product.

Next, I told my friends about it and found out what my options were.  I have friends who are willing and able to help with camera work and editing, which was encouraging.  At this early stage, I only added one person to the team: my friend, Abby, to co-produce by helping me organize and coordinate the whole process.

Then, I went to a mixer for the Southern Ohio Filmmaker’s Association (SOFA).  Apparently, there’s a rather large and healthy underground film community here in Cincinnati, and I made contact with people who do everything, from actors to production assistants to editors.  People started to read about my script and get excited about it, and suddenly, it looked like my little personal project might have more potential than I thought.

Early Pre-production

One of the first people to read my script was a cinematographer I met at the first SOFA mixer I attended.  At the same time, I posted an ad on CraigsList on casting and decided to get the ball rolling, with or without any more help.

The morning of the auditions, the cinematographer called back, having read the script and been pleasantly surprised at how much he liked it.  (I shared his surprise.)  Suddenly, I had another person on my team, an experienced person who was willing to help me through directing my first short film.

A word of advice:  Plan auditions well in advance.  I had been in contact with probably six people who were interested, and only two showed up at the scheduled audition time.  We ended up having people schedule auditions at restaurants throughout the next week in order to get enough people to read for each role.  The environment was less than ideal, but it gave everyone an opportunity to audition on their own schedule.

We’re still in the midst of auditioning, but I feel good about what I’ve seen and about who I’m going to see.  There’s something surreal about hearing people read the words I wrote, and I can’t wait to put it all together and see what my cast can do with it.

All in all, I don’t think I could be more encouraged by the reactions I’m getting to the script:
“I read the script, and I think it’s great, to be honest”
“I just read the screenplay and I REALLY liked it!”
“I really respond to your writing”
“I was really thrilled with the script”
“It sounds like a fantastic project to work on”

Thanks to everyone for being so encouraging.  I hope the film reflects all the good things in the script and everything the actors bring to it.

We’ve got a lot of work to do.

A few years back, Guinness Draft beer ran a popular ad campaign featuring two scientists talking about their discoveries and inventions.  One scientist will say something like, “Maybe we shouldn’t drink six beers at the same time,” and the other guy will say, “Not drink six beers at the same time?  Brilliant!”  Being in college at the time, I saw these commercials regularly, and “brilliant!” became something of a short-lived catchphrase.

Now, as I read and study screenplays, I find myself repeating these conversations in my head rather often.  I’ll be examining a concept, like 3:10 to Yuma (a failing rancher guards a fast-talking villain on his all-important trip to prison), and wonder how a seemingly mediocre or barren concept can be turned into a satisfying, original full-length film.  In this case, it was director James Mangold’s unique approach that made the film work so well: “Presenting an old-west showdown story as a buddy drama instead?  Brilliant!”

This isn’t just a gimmicky nod; it’s an entire method.  As a writer, I’m always looking for how to keep my ideas fresh and smart without alienating the audience.  I’ve found the best thing to do is to have a conversation with myself:  one side of me represents the filmmaker, creating this movie in my head and committing it to paper so others can share the same vision, and the other side represents myself as an audience member, hoping to be enthralled, entertained, impressed, or simply drawn in.  The first side (the scientist who’s always on the left) says something like, “Instead of having the cop follow the killer in a linear story, we’ll have the cop go forwards in time and the serial killer go backwards, so that when the cop figures it all out, the killer is back at his origin point as well.”  The audience member side of me (on the right) replies, “The cop goes forwards while the killer goes backwards, and their stories resolve at the same time?  Brilliant!”  Then, I know I have something.  If the audience member can’t wrap his head around it enough to say it out loud, or it sounds like he’s describing an existing movie I’m already familiar with, it probably still needs some work.

The Dark Knight is a textbook example of this practice at work.  The film runs at 152 minutes, but Christopher Nolan’s rapid, jump-through-time style packs this film full of characters, locations, and varying situations, always running the risk of feeling rehashed or cliched.  To avoid this problem, every single scene or story arc has an extra twist to it that makes it totally unique to the film it’s in.  (WARNING: Minor spoilers ahead.)  “The bank robbery has each man betraying a teammate one by one until the Joker betrays them all?  Brilliant!”  “Batman flips an 18-wheeler vertically in downtown Gotham?  Brilliant!”  “The climax of the film hinges not on a fight scene, but on the drama of a moral question set to everyday people?  Brilliant!”  That’s just scratching the surface.  Nolan’s body of work is a masterclass in taking a concept and adding a twist that makes the entire experience completely original, but The Dark Knight takes the cake.

One of my main goals is to apply this concept to all of my work.  The best way to write is to write something that no one else can; being idiosyncratic is the ticket to Hollywood success.  I want people to know that the only way to get an Adam Thede script is to get it from Adam Thede.  And to be glad they did.