We Die A Little Every Day

     I'm watching the breathing, shallow, harsh, faint and delicate.  Just sitting there, watching the breathing.  In, stop, out, stop, in, stop, out, stop.  Stop, stop, stop, cough, cough, in, stop, out for hours.  Fascinating.

      I put myself in the same position and watched my own breathing.  Slowed it down, sped it up, played with it like Sifu Ibrao used to say, 'come on, play with the motion.'  I was in Hong Kong the first time I saw someone play with the motion.  Right down the street from the Shangri La Hotel on a Sunday afternoon, walking with the maids who fill the streets on their day off.

Yes, this is Sifu Ibrao

     I guess I felt it first, before I saw it, white silks, thin shoes, short hair.  There he was, standing by the water, playing with the motion.  Everyone thinks of Tai Chi as some passive art.  That's bullshit.  Out of that peace came a lot of chaos.  A lot of asses got kicked from the roots of Tai Chi.  Anyway, this guy is breathing and going through the movements of Southern Style Tai Chi, long form, no stopping, no peace, no rest, no doubts.  What was amazing was not the number of people who were watching, but the number of people who weren't watching.

      I stood back and admired his precise movements and careful anger as he practiced.  He moved everything around him.  I could feel the wind moving around him -wind caused by his movements- and I watched his breathing.  I watched and noticed that the same way years later that my old friend died; that this young master was dying too.  He was on his way out and I could see it.  Owed the wrong somebody money, had a disease, was depressed over some girl who didn't think Tai Chi was as cool as he did.  Who knows?  Who cares?  Didn't matter, he was on his way out.

      Last week, a young actor was in my office working on a project and I watched the actor die a little. Screwed up the lines, got lost in the words, held the breath a little too long and then forgot to take another one.  I could have jumped in and helped but like I said, we're all dying a little every day.  Nobody in a Bay Watch outfit coming to save me.  I'm on my own -and  I'm no lifeguard- so, so was the actor.  Besides I wasn't really interested, more pressing issues at hand.  Not worth it, not for this.  Too trite, too pedestrian, too stupid.

Neither of these actors are the actor from my story

      So, back to the old guy.  He squirmed every once in a while.  He was remembering his life just as it was leaving him.  Bittersweet; like a fat girl with a pretty face.  What do you do?  Nothing you can do.  Carry on soldier, didn't you see her smile?  You live and he was living - as much as he could.  Funny to watch someone pass without realizing and wondering about who is watching you tick down your own private clock.

     It's dark in the room, just a sliver of light from a window with a crack in the curtains.  Reminded me of the thin lights on the floor of a theater which reminded me of the actors who choke on their lines and the actresses who can't remember their marks and the producers who throw money into bloated productions that will never make their money back.  If you listen close enough, you can hear their breathing too, in, stop, out, stop, in, out, in, out, stop....

     I've been paying a lot more attention to everything lately.  Everything.  A lot of stuff is slipping through the cracks, fading away, finding its way into my own little obscurity trap.  It's a personal place full of things, people, memories and efforts that weren't worth a damn.  What's left though is pretty exciting.  There's the new movie, the new documentary, the new book another show and the people associated with them.  Now, those things are worth fighting for.  Worth breathing deep for and worth playing with the motion to make sure they succeed.

     Today I got a coffee for Joe Pesci, actually it was a decaf caramel macchiato - decaf - easy caramel.   I could have sent someone else but I wanted to do it.  Not because it was for Pesci but because it was raining and and I wanted to get wet like I used to when I walked home from school with no umbrella.  Each drop of rain that hit me was more important than most of the crap that I used to think was important just a few years, months, weeks and even days ago.  I'm watching my own breathing now, listening to it and paying attention as well.  Maybe no one else is watching but I am and I'm realizing that we all die a little every day.

    As usual, all photos in this blog are the property of their owners.  To me, an actor can be male or female.

     Joe Pesci is a pretty cool guy, cooler than he seems in the movies.

     Oscar De La Hoya is a gentleman who helped a kid out whom he'll never meet.

     Dwight Hicks was the best free safety in the history of the NFL and very talented creation made by hand by God himself.  Dwight is on the left. The old man and the young master are both dead.

It's Christmas time.
Yeah baby!  D.

What Gives You The Right To Quit?

      Here we go again.  The same old bullshit rises once again.  AOF Festival 2012 just ended and I'm back on the trail of the great American Film.  Not someone else's but my own.  It used to be that everyone wanted to pen the Great American Novel.  Not me, I want to sit in that dark theater surrounded by strangers in a very familiar land and share an experience that is real, powerful, moving and surprising at every turn.  In short, my Great American Movie.
      From November to August I have the pleasure of watching everyone else's films, shorts, docs, animations, music videos etc., but from August through November, the tables turn and I'm the one pitching and wheeling and dealing to get something done.  That's not saying that I don't complete projects throughout the rest of the season, I'm just saying that those projects are usually work for hire or someone else's piece that I happen to be working on.

The Krikorian Theaters Home of the AOF 2012

      This season was amazing.  (A word I truly hate because every 'actor' uses it when they can't think of another way to say, 'incredible.')  And when I say amazing, I mean it because to watch the dynamics of so many talented people brought together for ten days to showcase their work, their dreams, their goals and even a few failures; really is a powerful and humbling experience.
     This year was a bit different though.  With over twenty thousand people visiting our festival during 2012 and sold out dinners and parties, it is easy to get lost in the shuffle.  Juggling sponsors, advertisers, vendors, filmmakers, writers, staff and even a few stars can be a challenge but with a great crew and support team, it isn't as hard as it used to be.  In fact, I found myself with a lot more free time this season than ever before.  So much in fact that I had time to just hang out with some really great people who all had a project to pitch.  Except for one freakin' guy.  This son of a bitch, really, I mean really pissed me off and that is so hard to do that I can't remember the last time it happened.

Stan Harrington - A Filmmaker who is definitely committed to his work

     We met up in the Filmmaker's Pavilion and instantly I knew I was in trouble.  He had a look on his face like he just lost his mother, his father, his dog, the keys to his Prius and the hard drive that held the only backup copy of his 'bullshit' masterpiece.  (His words, not mine.)  Now, the problem is, I'll listen to anyone, it's my job, part of my purpose and a great way to learn.  But this guy really just got to me.  It seems that he wasn't happy with the audience response to his efforts.  He wasn't happy that everyone didn't get it.  He was disappointed that the DP didn't follow his directions and the editor didn't agree with his decisions.  In a nutshell he thought that maybe he should pack it in and quit.
      I asked him if he thought that the experience had any value at all?  His answer was, and I'm paraphrasing here because I'm still a little foggy on all of the details this guy was throwing at me, but in short he felt the experience held no value - save for that to show him that it was probably time to quit 'trying' to be a filmmaker.

AOF 2012 Filmmaker Pavilion

      Immediately I began to go through the list of people who got rejection letters from us this year because we couldn't show their films.  Films which were just as hard to make, just as tough to produce and required just as much funding and love as the one that proved to be an albatross and not a badge of honor to Mr. Sunshine.
      After about thirty minutes of this bullshit, -not the bullshit I refer to in the first paragraph; that bullshit is comprised of meetings that will go nowhere, people who don't want to work with you but say they do, actresses who want to know who you're working with because obviously you don't qualify as talented enough as far as they are concerned, investors who have less money in their bank accounts than you do in the tiny pocket above the real pocket of your 501's and various other crap that goes along with getting something done- I've had enough of him so I say, and not in a shy way.  'What gives you the right to quit?'  He didn't answer right away which was cool because I needed time to calm down a bit.  Finally he asked, What do you mean?   I asked him again.  He said that he didn't understand the question.  

Committed Squared

    I told him that I assumed that it wasn't his money that I was looking up at when I saw his film on the screen and he told me that it wasn't.  I said that I'd bet real dollar bills that everyone besides the DP and Editor had worked as hard as they could?  Again, he said I was right and wanted to know, what exactly was my point?  I told him that my point was that he didn't have the right to quit.  He had used other people's money, he had taken a spot from another filmmaker who would have loved the chance to see their work on the big screen, he had used the labor of people who believed in him and worst of all he hadn't committed himself to his project and his work.  And if he wasn't really committed to the project and to his craft that maybe that was a reason to quit but the project itself, the people around it and the audience that watched it were no where near reasons enough to quit.  He didn't have the right to quit or to lay blame unless he was blaming himself, which he wasn't but he should have because it was his story, his project and he hired that DP and he hired that Editor.  The only place for blame was squarely on his shoulders, rounded as they were.

Shaun P. and the Crew and Cast from The Lackey - Another Super Committed Filmmaker

      Now, I find myself in October with only two months to go and it's time for me to make my movie.  Time to put my commitment on the line and I have to tell you.  I'm glad I had that talk with a guy who wasn't committed, who wasn't sure, who didn't know and frankly had no real concern for the time and efforts of the people who had believed in him and his work even when he didn't.
     A year ago, I started this blog writing about a project that had failed.  Today, I'm writing about the same project as it prepares to sail again.  Still committed, still believing and still sure that I don't have the right to quit we'll move forward.

Giovanni Zelko and Harry Lennix - Yeah Baby!

     Is it going to be the Great American Movie?  I don't know, but it sure is going to be my Great American Movie.  I'll keep you posted.
     Until next time, say 'Hi' to your sister for me.
D