If any of you have wondered where I’ve been, it’s been a crazy time here in Portland. I am currently teaching two production classes that had shoots two weekends in a row. In addition to that, I had to organize and present information about the project to members of the Art Institute community… i.e. students, faculty, adminstration, etc. It was a requirement of the sabbatical, but also something I was looking forward to doing. The problem wasn’t coming up with stuff to say, it was more about framing it in such a way that people outside of the film department would find it interesting and useful. And packing it all into a one hour time slot!
So here’s a quick rundown of what I came up with…
I learned a long time ago that making a film is three processes; writing, shooting, and editing. Each one changes the movie in some way. I’ll come back to that in a second…
When writing Forge, I thought about how I (as a person) am split by the the old school biorhythms; emotional, mental, and physical. Maybe more than most. Those three elements in me don’t intermingle. I’ve been thinking about this a lot in the past couple years. How can I get these things to work together? Or at least get the mental and physical out of the way of my emotional? So I made the story about three characters who personify my three parts. But I wanted to better connect the generic biorhythm thing with my specific situation, then tie it together with my creative philosophy… or create one since I hadn’t really thought of having a creative philosophy.
In writing the sabbatical presentation, it occurred to me that when I talk about my three parts -emotional, mental, and physical – I really mean creative, technical, and visceral. I think of it like this: Creative is the outgoing. You have ideas and pour them out in writing, music, painting, etc. Technical is the internal. You learn and then know your process. Once the creative concept is in mind, the Technical is simply execution. Visceral is incoming. Whether you’re showered with positive feedback, or people hate it, or you get a massage, or take a beating… Visceral is the return cycle of the full circuit.
Then, with a minor modification, I applied that philsophy to filmmaking. When you write a screenplay (the Creative), you’re putting your ideas out there. You generate something real from inside yourself. It’s not easy, and it’s a process plagued with doubt. You have to power through that doubt to get the ideas where they need to be… outside your head!
Next you have the Technical. That’s the shooting and the editing. These are things that I’m comfortable with. Once you begin the technical phase, you need to put aside the doubt and execute. Proper planning and a good support group makes all the difference. In the case of Forge, it was the crew. Without these guys, the experience wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable. Naturally, you still worry that the project will suck, but you can’t be crippled by that or you’ll never finish anything. In all art forms, once you start the technical, you can’t constantly change the creative, and you can’t worry about the visceral. Just do the work! Finishing the work is your ONLY goal on an artistic project. Positive (or negative) feedback is merely a side effect.
When the feedback comes, you’re in receiving mode: the Visceral. You can’t change what people think at this stage, and you can’t go back and alter the work. Sure, you can rearrange a few things here and there, but you’re just moving your vegetables around the plate. The ultimate concept is locked in. So just take what comes and know that you finished something and start the next one.
I stuck editing in the technical because I think the presentation of the film is the third part of the filmmaking experience. If you always stop at after the technical phase, your creative will never grow. I see this in a lot of friends who create original media. They write, shoot, and cut, but never show. You need to experience all three to complete the circuit. Some people love feedback, some dread it. But you need it or your creative phase will fizzle out.
The trick is to connect the three phases, but keep them from getting in the way of each other. That’s my problem. When I’m writing, I worry about how I can pull it off technically. When I’m shooting or editing, I worry about what people will think. On a broader level, when I’m in creative mode, I’m distracted by technical things like visual effects tests or shopping for gear, and non-filmmaking visceral things that would be more fun… video games, movies, going out with friends… but thinking technical is no good until the story is done, and the visceral comes at the end. It’s the reward! Someone asked comic book writer Brian Bendis how he can be so prolific. His answer was, “I don’t drink and I don’t have an Xbox.” Take note, kids.
SPOILER AHEAD! STOP READING IF YOU HATE KNOWING HOW IT ENDS.
I put these thoughts into Forge. Paul is the creative/emotional. He wants to make things good again. John is the technical/mental. He sees the universe as matter and energy without human connection. And there’s Jimmy, the visceral/physical. He sees the world in terms of how it affects him. Throughout the story, Paul makes an effort to repair the damaged family only to be interrupted by Jimmy. Or he reaches out to John and is rebuked for misunderstanding the reality of the universe. Finally, Paul realizes that the only way he can exist is to shed the other two and move ahead on his own. To me, Paul becomes the true artist, unfettered by the technical and the visceral. He leaves the story clear of burden.
That’s my goal, too.