A Watched Pot Never Boils

No doubt every filmmaker wants their film projected to the big screen in front of a large audience.  We dream about it every time we sit watching someone else’s film, thinking, “Surely if they could do it, then so could I.”  That is 100% true.  You can and should.  Your film deserves it.  Every film does.  The big screen is where it’s meant to be.  But it may not happen in your time frame or in your way. It may take years for your film to reach even one theater, and often at a financial loss rather than gain.  The ‘screen’ may not even be the screen you envisioned.  The odds for a marketed film in the U.S. to generate financial gain is roughly 3%.  “Wow.  Thanks for being such a Debbie Downer,” you may say.  “Why don’t we tuck our tails between our legs and call it a day.”  But let’s get real: The San Diego Padres have roughly a 0.0% chance of making it to the playoffs, and the Colorado Rockies are close behind.  Odds say they should hang up their cleats and shut the team down.  The Padres haven’t entered the World Series since 1984.  Then again, the Padres went to the World Series in 1984.  So did the Rockies in 2007.  Who’s to say they won’t again?  But besides that, what keeps a ball player playing when the odds seem stacked against them and the years between keep stacking up?  The love of the game.  And even if they never made it to the World Series again, the teams keep playing games because, for one, their fans keep paying. 

So how does baseball have anything to do with filmmaking?  Nothing.  And everything.

"A League of Their Own"

We live in a magnificent time of opportunity and versatility with regards to exhibition and distribution.  Your film’s ‘premiere’ doesn’t have to wait for funding or the opportunity to theatrically release.  Instead, outlets like IndieFlix, Distribber, and Distrify provide platforms for streaming play and instant download, equating sometimes to instant revenue.  Aggregators such as these branch out to major players like Hulu, iTunes, Amazon VOD and other streaming services, delivering your content to a wide spread audience.  You could approach the outlets individually, of course, but that's your preference - your prerogative. This isn’t a new revelation, but a reminder that the resources exist to, quite frankly, eliminate excuses.  Men all over the country, including Major League ball players, were called away during WWII.  Did that mean baseball stopped? No. The league worked with what they had to “get done what they had to get doing.”  It was about the game - not about the player.  Here, it’s about the film – not the venue.   Some day you’ll have your theatrical release.  It’ll be amazing.  Your twenty-dollar tub of popcorn will have never tasted so… buttery.  But in the meantime, “get to doing what you gotta get done:” show your film.  Because, “There’s no crying in baseball.” (Columbia, 1992)

Beauty in the Breakdown (An Editorial)

Iraq, 2007

An intensely personal and poignant experience occurred in my life roughly 5 years ago.  While serving in Iraq as a Combat Cameraman, I received a “combat wound” in the form of PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  It directly affected my passion for the art of moviemaking and placed a huge roadblock in the path thereof. 

I bring this up because recently I was interviewed by the “Make the Connection” public awareness campaign, a representative of the Veteran’s Affairs, about my experience with PTSD.  The interview involved chronicling my service in the Navy and why I took the path I did. I joined the Navy to learn mechanical and technical skills associated with image capturing, while at the same time giving to something bigger than myself: my country.  Ironically, my central contribution was the very thing damaged the most: my passion for the moving image.   The trauma etched so deeply onto my soul, I could barely edit anything without experiencing immense stress or anxiety.  When I left the Navy the skills and passion I had did not come with me.  They were left on the cutting room floor of combat, so to speak.  At the time, it felt as if the “casualty of war” was my dream.  Tear that away from anybody and you tear out the life that is in him or her.  I was paralyzed.  The professional foundation I gained became my biggest threat as opposed to a launching point for my career.

As we talked I was reminded that certain things would never be the same.  But thankfully through treatment by way of the VA, I’ve come back to a place of passion and courage enough to give it a go again.  Things are universally much better, but not all.  The memories, echoes of caustic nausea still remain.   Still, the new skills and strength I’ve gained through unique treatment have opened doors both literally and figuratively – necessary components for me to carry on.  It was my honor to tell my story if it helps even one veteran know they are not alone and can receive help.  But the experience was also therapeutic for me.   Not only did it remind me of the pain, but it also reminded me of victory – and the victories I still have a duty to fulfill.  No matter how much extra effort it takes now for me to act, storytelling will only remain a ‘casualty’ if I leave it there.  And then the ‘enemy’ wins: the enemies of terror and fear, both physically and psychologically.  But I am not a victim of circumstances.  In spite of the subconscious apprehension I have, my service to my family, friends and community are not over.   We serve by contributing our time and talents in our own unique ways.  My unique way is through storytelling. 

Many thanks to the VA and “Make the Connection” for their help and support.  Otherwise, even this blog role would not be possible.  Keep dreaming and Press On.