Matt Writes Words

thoughts about movies, writing, and whatever else is on my mind

Month: August, 2011

Doing Things the Wrong Way

I was over at a friend’s place yesterday, and we got to talking about doing things the right way and doing things the wrong way. We agreed that doing things the wrong way is often far more interesting, in terms of the experience and the results.

This conversation came about because we were talking about how we wanted to make films. My friend said he was more interested in working with people who didn’t really know how you’re supposed to make a movie, and by fumbling their way through it together, maybe they’d at least make something different. I often have a similar feeling, and am frequently interested in working with people who don’t have much/any film experience but have some particular quality that I think is interesting. I like working with artists and musicians more than I like working with people who studied filmmaking. I love working with theater people because they’re generally very willing to try new things, they’re super hard-working, and their skills and experience is directly transferable to filmmaking.

I am easily infuriated by people who make films in the way that they think they’re supposed to, but are incompetent about it. I know that I shouldn’t be infuriated by such a silly thing, as it doesn’t really hurt me. I don’t fully understand why I get so angry about it, except to say that I care a lot about filmmaking and my feelings about it can get complicated.

Part of the reason why it makes me so angry to see people incompetently attempt to make formulaic films is that the thought and only motivation behind it seems to be, “Well, this is the way that Hollywood does it.” Yes, but some of the most talented, skillful, hard-working people in the world are in Hollywood making those shitty movies, so why would anyone ever hire an incompetent buffoon to do what they already do, just not as well? Your movie looks awful, the writing and acting makes me want to vomit, and you can’t even get the sound right! You’re a terrible, empty person and I hope you’ll slip in the shower and die before anybody has to sit through your stupid movie!

… I’m sorry. I told you that it makes me angry.

I want to stress again that that’s my reaction when someone is trying to make movies “the right way” and isn’t very good at it. As soon as I see that someone is trying to do things at least a little differently, then I will instantly overlook anything that might normally be considered technical flaws, and the fact that it’s low-budget and rough around the edges will endear it to me rather than repel me. That’s because I’m a big, big fan of people trying to do things differently. Even if it doesn’t work, I’ll find something to be intrigued by. But if a movie is going to be by-the-numbers AND incompetent, then that is a complete waste of time.

This is made all the worse when more effort is put into “looking professional” than is put into “making a good movie.” This means you get all the benefits of annoying lingo and general douchbaggery without the hassle of creating something that anybody should ever have to sit through.

Sorry. I’m going to steer this away from the hate-filled rant that it’s becoming and focus on what I meant to write about: doing things the wrong way. What I really mean is not doing things the right way–the way that everyone else is doing it.

I like what James Dyson (yeah, the vacuum guy) says about it:

We’re taught to do things the right way. But if you want to discover something that other people haven’t, you need to do things the wrong way. Initiate a failure by doing something that’s very silly, unthinkable, naughty, dangerous. Watching why that fails can take you on a completely different path.

Cinema is such a young art form that I feel it deserves to be taken on by people who are willing to make big mistakes and take big risks, whether through naivety or a deliberate avoidance of the “right” way of doing things.

I should say that there are different kinds of wrong ways of doing things. I’m really talking about the “I don’t know what’s gonna happen if I do this but I’m gonna do it anyway” kind of wrong way, and not the “I’m gonna buy a house I can’t afford and live off of credit cards because I just really like nice things and I haven’t thought this through” kind of wrong way. I think it’s important to do things uniquely wrong so that you can learn something that no one else could have told you already. But if you’re gonna make the same mistakes that a bunch of other people have already made, then that’s no good.

If you can do the wrong thing in a unique way, and do that over and over again, you might just stumble onto new discoveries, create intriguing art, and live a more interesting life. Or maybe not. But either way, it beats the hell out of doing the same old same old.

Living on Craigslist

I feel like I already wrote a blog post today, since I just finished writing a 500-word Craigslist ad for a new housemate, who will be taking over my current room while I move into the living room so that we can all pay less for rent, and so that I can afford to work less, write more, and begin taking filmmaking seriously. Writing and filmmaking had fell by the wayside, eating the dust of a 40-hour workweek and becoming a faint glimmer in the rear-view mirror as I was driving toward “what the hell am I doing with my life?” (Brilliant metaphor) But, NO MORE!

Anyway, the only thing I can think of to write about now is Craigslist. I’ve been living on Craigslist for the past two days, trying to sell off most of my possessions, e-mailing back and forth with people who might be interested in buying stuff, and now I’m about to use it to find a new housemate.

It’s a weird thing when I stop to think about how much of my life has been facilitated through Craigslist. I found my job on Craigslist. I found my apartment and current housemate on Craigslist, and am about to find a third housemate on Craigslist. These are all massive parts of my everyday life.

When it works out, it’s fantastic. But one of the, let’s say, “charms” of Craigslist is that you end up dealing with all sorts of folks. It’s especially nerve-wracking when you’re putting out an ad for a room to rent, because you really hope that the right person will read it and be interested. My housemate and I are both very easygoing, and we get along with most people, but if we get a person who’s just wrong for this house, it could be unpleasant.

Though, to be honest, I’m not nervous about getting the wrong person. After all, we will meet several people and see who looks like a good fit. What I’m really nervous about is the potential that we could meet a really awesome person! And since that potential is there, it would be disappointing to feel like we’re settling for the best out of those who just happened to come across our ad in a sea of similar ads, if none of them were really that great of a fit. The thing is… you never really know what it will be like to live with somebody until you live with them for a while. So, fingers crossed.

I’m optimistic about it, though. I’ve met a lot of people online, including some of my very good friends. I’ve CouchSurfed a lot, and every instance has been absolutely brilliant–some of the most amazing people I’ve ever met were CouchSurfers! I have occasionally heard Craigslist horror stories, and the very, very occasional CouchSurfing horror story, but in all of these instances it seemed like there were a lot of warning signs that weren’t heeded. I do think that if you’re careful and paying attention, then tools like CouchSurfing and Craigslist are absolutely fabulous ways to meet people, and share your life with them.

So yes, I’m optimistic. But nervous. But optimistic.

The Inspiring Madness of Finite Films

Some friends of mine from the university days have started a great little project called Finite Films. I wanted to write a bit about it because I find the whole idea quite clever, and the amount of work that they are putting into it is nothing short of inspiring.

My friends who started this are Michael Tucker, Alex Calleros, and Ryan McDuffie. They explain the concept very succinctly in the one-minute video below.

In case you can’t view the video, I’ll summarize the concept: they take user-submitted constraints through their website, and the public can vote on their favorite constraints. These guys and their frequent collaborators will then take those constraints to create a new short film every month, rotating directors for each film. And these aren’t quickie done-in-a-weekend shorts; these are 20-minute, complex, ambitious films, often with a large amount of special effects shots, which they pull off very well.

As far as I can tell, they actually spend at least two months working on each film, and are constantly working on three or four films. As one is being shot, the next one is being written, and they’re in post-production for the film that will be due out next. This is all work that is happening on the same day, every day. It is non-stop and absolutely nuts, and for that, I salute them.

So far, they’ve made good on their one-film-a-month promise, and have three films under their belt, and a fourth one due in two days (on September 1st). You can view those films, along with a very nice little precursor film called WORKDAY, on their “Films” page.

That’s all well and good, but the thing I find truly mad is that they’re also producing weekly production videos, all of which are incredibly well made and actually very insightful looks into their process, and the filmmaking process in general. They’ve made 19 of these in the past four months, and each one is a significant piece of work.

It’s in those videos that you’ll see them up at 4am in the morning grabbing shots for their night time car chase scene across the streets of Los Angeles, up in the morning to work on the script for the next film, working through the afternoon doing visual effects tests for a film two months away, color correcting and sound mixing their upcoming film, then back out on the streets at night to continue shooting that car chase scene. Whew.

You’ll also see the same familiar faces in their collaborators. They have formed a talented team of folks who do all kinds of jobs on the films. Everybody gets involved. The actors on one film will be the crew on the next film. It’s an amazing set up for these actors, who get to be constantly working, and gaining experience in the nuts and bolts of making a film.

While they were able to raise $8,000 through an Indie Go Go campaign to start up Finite Films, none of them are getting paid to do this. They all have to work other jobs in addition to what must amount to a 60-hour work-week for these films. It’s absolutely clear that they’re all doing it for the love of it.

That said, I think it’s an absolutely brilliant way to show that they deserve to get paid to do this kind of stuff, and I think that, down the line, they’re all going to be able to build excellent careers in film from what they’re showing to the world with Finite Films. Every week and every month, they’re showcasing their considerable talent, ambition, and technical sophistication.

In this day and age, loads of people are able to build careers from their YouTube videos. Everybody is combing the internet, looking for new talent. As far as I can see, these guys and their collaborators are in the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing. Like I said, it’s brilliant.

Personally, I’m very inspired by what they’re doing. I think it’s one of the several things that was floating in my head when I decided to start blogging every day, quit working full-time, and take this filmmaking thing seriously. I know that their monthly films and weekly production diaries make my daily blogging look like a fountain of piss in comparison, but I’m trying to work my way up to that level of madness.

So thanks, guys, for your insanity. And everyone else, seriously, check out Finite Films and subscribe to their YouTube page so that you can follow their production diaries and new films.

Bon Iver and My First Two Weeks in England

It’s strange, sometimes, the way that memories work. I have a terrible memory regarding most things. I don’t remember much about high school, and when I talk to old friends, they’ll tell me about things that I have no memory of doing or saying. It’s weird.

I guess that memories just aren’t very important to me. Most of these things don’t stick in my brain unless I make the effort to remember them, and that’s just fine with me. Maybe it’s because I’m very self-absorbed. Maybe it’s because I’m always looking forward instead of backward. I’ve never ever wished for something to be like use it used to be.

Somehow, though, when it comes to anything film-related, my mind will soak it up with no effort on my part. I have come across a lot of information about films, directors, writers… everything from film history to new film deals being made, which actors were in what movies, who directed those movies, who wrote those movies, how those movies did at the box office. Everything. I remember it all. Movies are the only thing that I’m like that with.

That’s not really what I wanted to write about, though. I wanted to write about something that I do remember, that has nothing to do with film.

Somehow, every time I hear any part of Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago, I get a strong memory of my first two weeks in England. Specifically, how it felt. The slightly chilly morning air that gave way to just the right amount of warmth as the afternoon rolled in. The feeling of being in this new place that at once was foreign and familiar. New friends. New home for the next year.

I suppose I must have been listening to that album a lot during that time, although I don’t specifically remember doing that. Also, I had gotten the album half a year before then, so it’s not a matter of where I was when I first heard these songs.

Maybe there’s something about the slow, soft sound of the music that perfectly matched the feeling of being on a train and watching bits of England pass by. Maybe it’s that when you’re in a new place, embarking on a new adventure, your eyes are wide and your ears are OPEN. Is that not the beauty of new adventures?

It’s amazing to me how some music that was made in Wisconsin in a very personal way could find its way to my ears while I wandered around London and Brighton, and anchor what has become the single strongest memory I have. I can re-live so much from those first two weeks in England just by listening to For Emma, Forever Ago. Emotionally, I’m right back there. All those feelings come back, at once.

I know that it’s common for certain songs or certain smells to be strongly associated with a certain time, but that had never been the case for me until this association between Bon Iver and England happened, and it remains the only memory association of this sort that I have. I don’t look back on the past too often, but I love that I can queue up For Emma, Forever Ago, and be transported back to London and Brighton in September 2008. It feels like magic.

Strangely enough, I was thinking about writing on this topic last night while I was going through another round of purging a bunch of stuff that I don’t need (I had a big box of complete garbage that I have no idea why I carried with me to Austin). I found a broken camera, and inside the camera was an SD card. I put the SD card on my computer and found footage of my birthday party in Brighton, with all my friends. I had almost completely forgotten about it, but it was so great to be able to see them all again, dancing and having fun. I should edit that footage into a short little something.

Anyway, if you’re reading this and care to share, I’d love to hear your stories about strong memory associations that you have. Is there a song, a scent, a taste, or anything else that transports you back to some previous experience?

How to Sell Your Stuff, and Why You Should

I’m in the process of selling almost everything I own, which isn’t much. I’ve sold a lot of my possessions before, and I’ve figured out the pros and cons to the various ways of selling my stuff.

I first moved to Austin with whatever I could pack into my car, which is a regular-sized sedan. Within a few months of getting to Austin, I started reading about minimalism and decided to sell a bunch of my stuff. I got rid of all my DVDs, CDs, books, and a couple pieces of movie equipment that I wasn’t using anymore. I threw away various worthless things that I was holding onto for sentimental value, but never actually looked at or used, and donated some of my clothes.

Since then, I’ve generally kept my possessions fairly minimal. I love the minimalist lifestyle, and find that the less I have, the less I want to have. One of my favorite things about this lifestyle is the idea of only owning what you actually use. It also makes me feel light, like I don’t ever have to be tied down to the place where I have all my stuff. I feel like I might just float away if the wind picked up, onto new adventures.

I’ll now describe most of what I currently own:

NEW THINGS I BOUGHT THIS YEAR:

  • iMac (after my laptop broke)
  • DSLR camera
  • Acoustic guitar
  • Audio recorder

Those were good purchases, because these are items that I actually use. However, I shouldn’t have bought an iMac, because how am I going to float away if I’m anchored by this big desktop computer? It was a mistake, but one that I’m going to fix soon—more on that shortly.

ALL THE OTHER STUFF I OWN (the stuff in bold is what I plan to sell or otherwise get rid of):

  • Electric guitar that I don’t play, because I like my acoustic so much better
  • Lighting kit for photos/movies
  • Tripod
  • Broken laptop
  • SLR Film Camera
  • Old eMac (I held onto this because there was some data on it that I never bothered to transfer)
  • Some clothes, not much
  • Old video camera that I don’t use
  • Some books (5 or so)
  • A bunch of hard drives
  • A box of random junk
  • A small fold-up table
  • And then all the basic stuff like shoes, plates/cups, some kitchen stuff, a mattress, etc.

I’m going to sell this new iMac and buy a used Macbook Pro, which is what I should have done in the first place. I’ll still end up with a good laptop that I can edit video on, and I’ll pay less for that than what I’m going to sell the new computer for.

Okie dokie! With that out of the way, I’ll describe some of the strategies I used and will use when selling my stuff.

When I sold my DVDs, CDs, and books, I didn’t take it to a store that would give me almost nothing for them. I sorted out some of the ones that maintained their value and sold them on Amazon.com. For example, my Criterions sold at between $18-50 per DVD. If I had taken them into a record store, I probably would have gotten around $5-10 for those. Amazon charges a small fee when you make a sale, but I still came out with much more money with that deal.

For everything else, I used various online stores that bought used DVDs, CDs, and books, like Second Spin, DVD Pawn, Media Exchange, and AbeBooks. These places gave me between $2-15 for my DVDs, compared to the $0.25-3 that I’d get at a used bookshop/record store, and they pay the shipping cost. I discovered that each website would offer different amounts for the same DVD, sometimes with a significant discrepancy, so I cross-checked each DVD with all three websites, and sold each DVD to the one with the highest offer. The same thing was true for CDs and books.

Since I was selling a good amount of stuff, I probably made an extra $70 by cross-checking, and I sold all my DVDs/CDs/books for about $400, instead of the $100 or so I would have made by dropping them all off at record stores and bookshops. It took longer, but it was worth it. If you’re thinking of selling some DVDs/CDs/books for extra cash, I highly recommend taking that route.

EBAY OR CRAIGSLIST?

Basically, eBay will get you a very wide audience for all sorts of stuff, but they charge steep fees and require you to ship what you sell. Craigslist is free, and the buyer will usually pick the item up at your house or at some agreed-upon spot, but you’re limited to your local area.

If I’m selling something that lots of people in my city might be looking for, I’ll go to Craigslist. Another factor is that I don’t want to deal with shipping for large things, so having someone pick it up is much easier. If someone is willing to spend $1,100 total on a new iMac, then all of that money can go to me instead of to shipping and fees, and people are looking to buy iMacs off of Craigslist all the time, so this is an obvious choice.

However, if you have any rare or otherwise special items, the bidding feature of eBay will work in your favor. The fact that the person who’s willing to bid more than anybody else is the one who gets it means that you’ll be getting the best price for it, which might make the fees worth it.

You’re still going to end up with items here and there that nobody is willing to pay much money for. I’ll typically donate these things, if I can. Some things are so useless that I’ll throw them away. Some things only have sentimental value, and I try to get rid of as much of that stuff as I can bear—I’ve found that I don’t end up missing these things as much as I think I’m going to.

That brings me to the final point that I want to make: beyond the strategy of which services to use to sell your stuff, how do you decide what you really need and what you can live without?

This is a very personal—and sometimes emotional—question that you have to answer for yourself. For me, it comes down to: Do I Use This Often? If I don’t use it all, then really, I want it gone. If I use it once in a while, then it depends on how much space it’s taking up and whether it’s worth any money. If it’s not important, then I’ll probably want to get rid of it. If it’s purely decorative, then I’ll probably want to get rid of it. If it’s something that I’m holding onto because I think that I might want to use it someday, then I’ll typically have to convince myself that it’s really not that important, and that I should get rid of it.

After this next round of getting rid of my stuff, then everything I own should be able to fit easily into a backpack, a satchel, and a couple of boxes. When I travel, I can just take the backpack and/or satchel.

Doing this means that I will take up so little space that I can move into the living room, sleep on the couch, and get a third housemate to live in the room. Doing that means we’re fitting three people into a two-bedroom apartment. Doing that means we’re all paying much less rent—especially me, because I’m just sleeping on a couch. Doing that means that I can afford to stop working full-time and still live without financial stress. Doing that means that I can spend my time doing what’s important to me: writing and pursuing work on film projects.

To me, selling my stuff and having few possessions is about living my life according to my own priorities. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t write and make films because I was too busy working at a job I didn’t like in order to support a life full of stuff that wasn’t as important to me as writing and making films, and I’m certainly not interested in collecting debt in order to support a life full of stuff that I don’t really need.

These are the things that trap you. I don’t want to be trapped. I want to be free. To write. To make films. To travel. To move. To keep moving. When it comes right down to it, that is what it is all about.

MARIE, Early-20s, Attractive But Doesn’t Know It

My eyes have shimmied through 140 scripts for the Austin Film Festival screenplay competition this year, and I have caught onto an undeniable fact: most screenwriters don’t know how to describe women.

Take any 5 descriptions of female characters from different screenplays, and you’ll most likely get something like this:

LISA, 30s, beautiful.
ASHLEY, late-20s, sexy and knows how to work it.
JOAN, 40s, well put together, attractive for her age.
KIMMY, 15, cute and spunky.
MARIE, early-20s, attractive but doesn’t know it.

The other wonderful quirk of screenplays is that you can assume that these are meant to be white women, because if they were black, they would be described as “African-American, attractive,” and if they were Hispanic, they’d be “a sexy, hot-tempered Latina.” Generally speaking, screenplays written for American audiences do not feature Asian people, with the exception of the old, wise Asian man, so I’m afraid I can’t tell you whether Asian women would be generally be described as “attractive,” or whether they’d be described as “cute,” but it’d probably be one of those two words (or… *shudder*… “exotic”).

Male characters are more likely to get a wider breadth of descriptions, though it’s still rare to find interesting or unique descriptions. Typical descriptions are: handsome; square-jawed; scrawny; a giant wall of muscles; scruffy; bearded; crazy-eyed; pot-bellied, and so on. There’s slightly more character to their character. There’s still the assumption that they’re supposed to be white if their ethnicity is not described.

For the screenplay competition, we are not given any information about the writer, so I can’t say for sure whether the scripts I read are written by men or women–though I can usually make a good guess based on the writing style and story content. I can say, however, that most professional screenwriters in America (according to the Writer’s Guild) are white dudes. I can definitely tell you that most directors in America are white dudes (something like 85%?).

I do think that that is a factor in why there’s not a lot of diversity in American film, but I also want to say that bad writing is something that crosses gender and ethnicity lines. A bland description is a bland description, and these bland descriptions are usually just a part of a generally bland screenplay. These writers are just writing the movies that they’ve seen before, and most of those movies that they’ve seen before are about attractive white people.

I zeroed in on character descriptions because I noticed that there was one word used over and over again to describe female characters: attractive. This word is so meaningless as a one-word descriptor in a screenplay that it’s worse than not having any description at all (no description would be perfectly fine, if instead we get a sense of her character from her actions and dialogue). It’s so meaningless that it doesn’t even serve to distinguish between female characters within the same screenplay, because you’ll have a scene where GINGER, 20s, nerdy but attractive, is talking to POLLY, 20s, punky but attractive, about what they’re going to do with the body of ROSE, 20s, dead but attractive.

The word “attractive” gives me nothing as a reader. What does that word conjure up for you? I’m not sure if it’s just me, but as I’ve been reading these scripts, I get the feeling that the word “attractive” is a signifier that this is a tall woman that we should care about, while “cute” is a short woman that we should care about, and “hot” is the woman that everybody wants to see naked, but we don’t really have to care about her. She’s the one who would die in a horror movie.

I also often come across descriptions that we wouldn’t be able to see on screen, such as: “This is HELEN, late 20s, scorching hot. She’s George’s half-sister and engaged to Marta’s wealthy father.” If this information is revealed through action and/or dialogue later in the script, then this description becomes redundant. If it’s not revealed through action and/or dialogue, then it’s information that the audience watching the film would not get. Sometimes the character is meant to be such a caricature that the audience should be able to get upon first glance exactly what this character’s deal is, but “George’s half-sister” or something like “Gregory’s fiance” is not the kind of information you get upon first glance of a character.

So, one of the many things that I’ve learned from reading these amateur scripts is to think more about how to describe characters. I’ll write a few posts from time to time about the things I’ve learned from reading screenplays, good and bad.

People Who Inspire Me: Brit Marling

I’ve decided that, once in a while, I’ll write a post about somebody who inspires me. There’s a lot of folks who do. Enjoy.

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In improv, you say “Yes” to whatever is thrown your way so that the scene doesn’t stop dead in its tracks. However, in life, the people that I’ve been most inspired by are those who have said, “No, thanks.”

That’s way too simplified, of course. What I really mean is that I’m inspired by people who know when to say “yes” and when to say “no.” That’s very hard to do, at times, because some of the things that you can say “yes” to are scary, and sometimes saying “no” might make somebody think unkind thoughts about you, or it might hurt somebody’s feelings.

Life presents you with constant dilemmas. You will have to make sacrifices along the way. You can’t have it all. You shouldn’t have it all. If you’re lucky enough, you can choose (to a degree) what to keep and what to lose. I count myself as one of those lucky ones who gets to choose how I live my life, and choosing well is something that I take as a serious responsibility.

Recently, I’ve been very inspired by Brit Marling’s story. It’s a good story, and one that every article about her loves to re-tell. So I’ll re-tell it:

When she was a student at Georgetown University, majoring in Economics, she saw some short films by fellow students Mike Cahill and Zal Batmanglij. She had always harbored a desire to be an actress, but it never seemed like a feasible way to make a living, so she didn’t pursue it. She did have time, however, to make some short films with her new filmmaking pals. The buried desire became a full-blown passion.

BRIT MARLING

She dropped out of Georgetown to make a documentary in Cuba with Cahill called BOXERS AND BALLERINAS. Afterward, she went back to Georgetown and continued with her degree in Economics. After graduating at the top of her class, she was offered a high-paying job at Goldman Sachs. But she hated working in Finance. She wanted to be an actress. So she said those two magic words: “No, thanks.”

Marling, Cahill, and Batmanglij moved to Los Angeles and lived together while trying to jump start their careers in film. They made short films and Marling went on auditions. She was offered parts in bad horror films and other films where she’d play a victim. Those weren’t the kinds of parts she wanted to play. She said, “No, thanks.”

MARLING WITH BATMANGLIJ

Finally, the three of them decided that they needed to get really good at writing the movies that they wanted to make. Marling collaborated with Cahill on one script while also collaborating with Batmanglij on another script, each with a great part for her to play. Then, they went off to make these movies. Initially, they had no money, but the quality of the little bits that they were able to shoot by begging/borrowing/stealing gradually garnered enough interest for a small amount of money to flow in.

Those films, ANOTHER EARTH (directed by Cahill) and SOUND OF MY VOICE (directed by Batmanglij), both played at Sundance 2011. Both were very well received. Suddenly, Brit Marling went from complete obscurity to that girl who co-wrote, co-produced and starred in two films at Sundance. Now, she’s become one of the most in-demand actresses in Hollywood, and had her pick between being the lead in a Tom Cruise movie, being in a Steven Soderbergh movie, and being in a Robert Redford movie. She chose Redford over Cruise, and herself over Soderbergh—she has another movie that she has co-written with Batmanglij that will be shooting at the same time as Soderbergh’s film.

MARLING WITH CAHILL

I believe that people are interested in working with her because she knew what to say “yes” to and what to say “no” to. She didn’t take the shitty job. She didn’t take the shitty roles. She said “yes” to the crazy idea of co-writing, co-producing, and co-starring in two movies for no money, because that’s what she really wanted to do.

How can you not be inspired by that?

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CLICK TO VIEW THE TRAILER FOR ANOTHER EARTH

ANOTHER EARTH is now playing in limited release in the U.S. Check yo local showtimes, foo.

SOUND OF MY VOICE will be released later this year in limited release in the U.S.

How to (Kind Of) Quit Your Job

Well! Writing all these blog posts about change, minimalism, and wanting to re-focus my energy on being a filmmaker has finally resulted in something clicking in my brain.

I have made a decision: within the next 4 months, I will stop working full-time.

I’ve been working out a plan as to how to make that feasible. That plan comprises of 5 steps:

  1. Bring down cost of living. I’ve spoken to my housemate about it, and it looks like we’ll be inviting a third person to live with us. That will bring my rent down to something very low. Fabulous. Additionally, over the past month, I’ve given up drinking and eating out. I’ve done this before, and I know that it means that I can keep myself fed and healthy for quite a low sum, and I know that I don’t mind not drinking and eating out. My phone bill is super low, and I rarely buy stuff. Even factoring my student loan payment, my monthly cost of living is low and is about to be made lower.
  2. Sell my stuff. I don’t have much stuff, but I can get rid of plenty more. I want to. I actually have about $1500 worth of stuff that I’m planning to sell. That’ll add nicely to my savings. I’m also considering selling my car, which will significantly boost my savings and significantly lower my cost of living.
  3. Continue to save for a few more months. This depends on how much longer I can stick it out working full-time. Obviously, the longer I do this, the more savings I’ll have, which means the longer I can live while working very little.
  4. Learn to use my free time productively. I’m not transitioning to part-time just so that I can have more time to watch Hulu and be on Facebook. This is why I wanted to develop the habit of writing every day. If I can be sure that having more free time means that I will write more, then that will be worth it. The other big thing is that it will free me up to be able to start working on film projects. There are a handful of projects that I hope to be involved with soon (which I wouldn’t be able to do if I were working full-time), and some that I plan to develop.
  5. Transition to part-time working. I’m thinking 15-20 hours a week. I have not decided whether or not that’ll be at the same job, or whether I’ll look for a new job. My workplace is generally quite flexible and open to part-time working, so that would be the easiest thing to do. However, I need a car to get to my current job. If I got a job at a place that I could take a bus to, then I could sell my car.

So this is the deal. If I continue to work until December, I should be able to save up enough money to live for 5 months without working at all. That was my original goal, but then I realized that if I continued to work just 15 hours a week at my current pay rate, I could live like that for 14 months. If I worked 20 hours a week, it would be 25 months. That’s if I don’t sell my car, and includes buying health insurance, so that I’m somewhat covered in case of illness or injury. It’s also not counting on any additional income that I might be able to make here and there.

But that’s the thing: I plan on trying to finding little gigs to make an extra bit of cash here and there. Maybe even in something film related. Maybe something that might help me to transition into the career that I want. I do plan on getting involved in film projects for free—if at any time over the next year, it leads into a job once in a while that might pay me something, then fabulous.

Now, I realize that things may or may not work out as smoothly as I’m hoping them to. With my savings, I definitely have a bit of a buffer to deal with unexpected costs from time to time. It still means that I’ll be able to work part-time for a significant amount of time.

In all, I don’t see why I shouldn’t do this. I’ve gone over the numbers over and over again, and I know that I can make this work. Probably everything I’m saying is nothing new to the thousands of young people working part-time jobs in Austin.

I came to Austin to be a filmmaker, not to work 40 hours a week in an office. I haven’t been able to figure out how to do both, so one of those things has to go. I’ve made my decision.

Matt, The Filmmaker

I had always liked movies as a kid, and there were always little clues that I would find my passion in filmmaking. I remember that a family friend had a video camera—the ones that recorded onto VHS tapes or Hi8—and I would always want to make little videos with it. I was about 8 years old at that time.

When I was 10 years old, I got a computer game called STEVEN SPIELBERG’S DIRECTOR’S CHAIR, in which you take a movie from concept to finished film, as director. It was a weird little game that featured Quentin Tarantino, Jennifer Aniston, and Penn & Teller. You’d construct the script out of pre-written scenes, putting those in the order that you want, and then you would “shoot the film,” which basically entailed selecting the shots that you want, with each shot costing a chunk of your limited budget.

The only really interesting part of the game was the editing process, because there was a rudimentary non-linear editing system as part of the game. You actually had a decent amount of freedom as far as how you cut the film together, and I had a lot of fun experimenting with that before non-linear computer editing was widely available to consumers.

So I had a lot of fun with this, but I don’t think I actually fell in love with movies until I was around 12 years old. That’s when I wanted to become a filmmaker. I started by reading a bunch of screenwriting books, and started writing screenplays. I think I completed four feature film scripts in my teens, as well as some short scripts. Meanwhile, I started to learn editing by re-editing trailers for fun.

Then, when I was 15, my parents got me a MiniDV camera, around the same time that I started studying photography (which I did in order to learn how to shoot movies). I took it with me to China, where my parents and I traveled around for a month, and out of that footage I edited together a 20-minute video, packed with all sorts of flourishes. That was my first real editing project, and it turned out pretty well. I did a lot of experiments with the camera, and learned a lot about how to shoot stuff, until the camera broke.

When I was 16, I decided that I’d get a job solely to pay for the equipment it would take to start making movies. During the two and a half years I worked there, I saved up about $10,000, and spent it all on movie stuff, including a much better camera. I was 17 when I made my first narrative short film, which people seemed to like. I made a couple of other short films, one of which was something I took very seriously and was fairly ambitious about, but these were pretty hit and miss and I wouldn’t mind never seeing them again.

I went to university in 2005 and started collaborating with my friend Bryan Oldaker on a film called SEVEN MONTHS, which was really the first good movie that I was a part of (Bryan directed and co-wrote the script with me, while I produced and did all the technical stuff on it). I still think it’s great. You can click on the movie title to watch the film and judge for yourself.

Not too long after that, I decided to get really ambitious and shoot a feature film. I was interested in a lot of different kinds of ideas at the time, and was very experimental in my approach. There was much of it that I was happy with, but as a whole, it was so hit-and-miss that I never found a way to put it all together in a way that satisfied me. It’s pretty much gone unfinished, and I’m not particularly interested in going back to it, but I learned so much from it and the experience really shaped a lot of who I am today.

In 2008, just before leaving for England, I made a movie called ANIMAL BRAINS with my friends Laura Greenwood and Amara Gyulai, both of whom I’ve done several projects with. I am very proud of that one. It came together very quickly, and it really captured what was going on in my mind and heart at the time. I also made a couple of quickie shorts, one called ON THE DEATH OF A RECENT GRADUATE, which has probably gotten the best response out of anything that I’ve made, and a short comedy called AT LEAST THE DEVIL IS HONEST, which I made a year ago, which was also pretty well received. I also got involved with other filmmakers’ projects here and there during the past several years.

I haven’t really made anything significant since last year, though. After moving to Austin last summer, I just got caught up with making new friends, working, watching movies, and just generally leading a normal life. I was happy enough with that until I realized that I hadn’t written anything for over a year. And I remembered why I wanted to come to Austin in the first place. And I remembered all my previous ambitions, and how they fell by the wayside. And I got depressed for a few months. (Boo hoo, I know)

During this whole time, my passion for movies and screenwriting has not diminished. If anything, it has grown. While I hadn’t been making or writing anything, I have been watching and studying films and screenwriting more than ever before. My ideas have developed in far more interesting directions than ever before. It hasn’t been a complete waste of my time, which makes me feel a little bit better.

And now I feel like I’m back on the upswing of things. I’m ready to put filmmaking at the forefront of my priorities, more than ever before. I’m mentally preparing myself, I’m saving up money, I’m living frugally, I’m getting rid of the things in my life that aren’t important to me and replacing them with good habits (like writing everyday—thanks, blog). I’m honing in.

I am spending the next few months making sure that in 2012, I will once again be Matt, The Filmmaker.

Change, or: You Can’t Count On Me

A change is coming soon. It’s inevitable.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m young, or selfish, or irresponsible, or all three, but I find stability to be very difficult. A change has to come because I’ve been doing more or less the same thing for 10 months now. That’s a long time for me to be doing the same thing. Along the way, I’ve made little changes in my life, just for the sake of trying something new. I’m a change-junkie, and that’s how I get my fix. But little changes can only hold me for so long.

It’s not so much that change excites me, but that stability kills me. All the things that I don’t like about myself come out in spades when I’m in some kind of stable anything. I stop being creative. I stop being engaged with my surroundings. I’m afraid of doing what I love. I’m afraid of people. I’m afraid of life.

But I’m not afraid of change. I crave change. I only feel like myself when I’m in the process of changing, of adapting, of growing. Even when I’m not changing something about my life, I’m changing my mind about everything I’ve ever believed in.

There’s a downside to this kind of constant change. I’m too amorphous to get to know properly. Whatever you think I am, I’ve likely been the opposite before, or will be someday. Things that are important to me suddenly become not important to me, and so things that require diligence generally slip through me. Steady jobs? Steady relationships? I don’t really think I can have any of those things. Maybe that will change when I get older. But the thing is: I don’t want any of that, so there’s nothing to boo-hoo about.

For whatever reason, I’m very sensitive (or paranoid?) about feeling trapped. I know that I’m not the only person that feels this way. I know people who are more sensitive about that than I am, never staying still for long. Sometimes it seems like maybe they’re running away from something. I’d like to think that I’m not running away, but rather running toward something better for myself. After all, if you’re not happy, why not run toward something that would make you happier, even if just temporarily? But perhaps I’m fooling myself. Or perhaps, like I said before, I’m just young, and maybe this is just what young people do.

I don’t exactly know what’s next for me, but I’m thinking hard about the possibilities. Which is fun.  Which creatively excites me. Which brings me out of my funk. This desire for change is not necessarily a perfect quality, but I think it’s my best quality. It’ll either take me to something great or something terrible, but dagnabbit, it will take me somewhere.

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