The brothers Kaufman work on two very different screenplays.

Richard Brody’s article in The New Yorker — “The Problem with Processed Storytelling” elucidates a lot of things I’ve been thinking about lately. The entire article is worth reading, but here are some takeaways:

• The storytelling doctrines put forth by Hollywood and their perseverance in independent film.
• Story should be the equivalent of “a musical melody or an architectural framework: a basis, not a goal.” The story is a starting point for the director’s concepts and concerns.
• Writer-directors are notorious for this kind of processed storytelling. In a system where the writer and director are separate, the director can inject his ideas into the script. When the writer and director are the same, more time is spent on recreating what’s been so perfectly constructed.
• Part of the reason for this is that revising the script is free. A filmmaker can fine tune a script for as long as he wants. There is also an immense amount of pressure put on the script as that is the face of the film before the film, “the object on which potential financiers are being asked to bet on.”

This got me thinking about the state of story in independent film. The kind of processed storytelling described in the article makes sense for the big boys. The culture industry exists to provide a release from the audience’s everyday lives (and turn a profit doing so). Audiences want to watch a film and see themselves as the hero and develop empathy for the main character’s plight. There is a science to constructing stories like these as laid out by Pixar, Syd Field, Robert McKee, and an assortment of screenwriting “gurus” (read: hacks).

Charlie Kaufman meets with a screenwriting guru in Adaptation

Aren’t independent filmmakers trying to do something different, to challenge the voice of the mainstream media? If so, then why rely on the tactics and formulas laid out by the mainstream films that independents stand in opposition to (unless being an independent to you is just a stepping stone to studio work, then by all means stick with your formulas and stop calling yourself an independent filmmaker)? The sad thing is that there was a time when American film was wildly original, artistic, and had mainstream appeal. Look at what was accomplished in the 60s and 70s–Bonnie & Clyde, The Conversation, The French Connection, Klute, Chinatown, Nashville, Taxi Driver, etc. Then Jaws, Star Wars, and Syd Field came along and ruined everything. Three-act structure down to specific page numbers, emphasis on plot and moving the story forward, relatable characters with strong, clear objectives–this was the gospel being preached and what is still followed to this day. The thing is, if this formula makes sense for the film you’re making then use it, but don’t believe that every story needs to fit into this model. My biggest complaint about this mode of screenwriting is that the protagonist needs to be relatable, that the audience should be able to see themselves on the screen. How self-centered are we that we need to see ourselves in everything? What about looking outside of our points of view to be challenged and experience something new? Is the only way to achieve empathy through identification? I’d like to hope not.

In lots of interviews I always hear the same thing, “it’s all about the script” or “the story is king”.  In that case, why bother making a film? Just publish the script. Don’t get me wrong–I’m not trying to denigrate the work of writers. I love writers! Reading the scripts to Hiroshima Mon Amour, Taxi Driver, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind have been wonderful reads and eye-opening experiences. The best scripts showcase their expressive potential, giving fuel to a director to take what’s on the page and turn it into something more. However, a film isn’t just a filmed script. A story is important, but it need not be the driving force. The ideas and concepts one infuses into the script are what makes it a film. Some of the best films have the simplest stories, but explores those stories in a rich way. One doesn’t need twists and turns and goals to make a compelling film. My favorite directors tend to work in this way: Wong Kar-Wai, Kiarostami, Linklater, Cassavetes.

Brody calls into question the problem of the writer-director and how he/she seeks to recreate the tightly-knit story from page to screen. The dilemma of the independent writer-director is a tricky one. First of all, it’s easy to fall into the trap of writing the screenplay. The writing stage acts as a safety net in many ways. You can keep revising and perfecting for years until it’s just right. But of course, it’ll never be just right and this reach for perfection will prevent you from moving forward with the film (which is understandable, making a film is scary). Once you’re happy with the script, there is an immense pressure on it since it is your path to finding producers, talent, crew, funding, grantors, etc. So yeah, the script is important to an independent filmmaker trying to get his/her project off the ground. It’s just not the be-all end-all. It’s important to think of it as a starting point for what the project is going to become.

What is the best approach for writing something you’re planning on directing? One method is to approach both as two separate tasks. Focus on your story world, think about how characters develop, and write the tightest script you can. And then, when you put on your director hat once the script is complete, deconstruct the whole thing. Forget the fact that you wrote it. And, since the script is as perfect as can be, you can work like jazz and stray from the script knowing that you can always return to it. Maybe the trick is to come up with the story but then pass it off to someone else to write the screenplay. Your authorial voice is still strong but it also opens it up to interpretations of someone else’s ideas, which could lead to surprising places. This seems like the best way to be a proper writer-director, as opposed to a writer that also directs. 

Bahrani at The New School (photo by Sam Ishii-Gonzales)

Ramin Bahrani (director of Man Push Cart, Chop Shop, Goodbye Solo, and Plastic Bag) held a directing masterclass during the Dorothy H. Hirshon Film Festival at The New School. My professor who organized the event, Sam Ishii-Gonzales, was tasked with choosing five students in the class to take part in the practical directing exercise in the masterclass. Out of those five students, I ended up as the director.

Most nerve-racking moment of my grad school career. For sure.

Before I get into the directing exercise, I’d like to discuss Bahrani’s lecture. Bahrani’s main point was visual clarity. Ambiguity in the story is okay, but the image always needs to be clear. He used Rosetta Stone software as an example. We went through a few examples from their website. The students had no trouble matching phrases with the images — except when the image wasn’t clear. For example, students had trouble identifying “girl eats” because in the photo the girl’s hand was obstructing both her mouth and the apple she was putting in it.

Bahrani asserted that when talking about your film, you should be able to explain the story in a way that a 12-year-old who doesn’t speak English can understand it. Don’t over intellectualize; do simplify.

He spoke of scene work and that we should be able to use the word “want” when describing a dramatic scene. Treat the scene like you would a complete script — it should have an inciting incident and turning points. These turning points should be emphasized with the blocking, camera placement/movements, and use of props. Along with the actor’ performances, these are the tools we have to make a dramatic story come to life. (We watched scenes from North by Northwest and Paper Moon to illustrate these points.)

Some other points he made:

• Read Alexander Malkendrick’s On Film-Making.
• Don’t abuse shot selection. Save close-ups for when you really need them.
• Camera motivation can come from inner states. It is also okay to write what the character is like, emotionally, and his/her inner states in a screenplay. It is important to convey the visual language.
• Know who your main character is. It’s okay to describe him/her in your screenplay with a few adjectives.
• Wants can be conscious or unconscious.
• Expected result vs. actual result. Leads to reevaluation.
• Dramatic irony is not used nearly enough.
• Read books.

And then the directing exercise began. Our team of five (producer – Noelia Santos, director of photography – Ryan Garretson, grip – Matt Simon, assistant director – Lit Kilpatrick) was given a pared down scene devoid of names, gender, and scene descriptions from Robert Redford’s A River Runs Through It five days before the exercise. We were to come to class prepared to shoot the scene with actors. I decided to make it really difficult on myself and interpret the scene in a wildly different way: I cast two women (Annika Franklin, who also stars in my short film How Will We Cross the Seas?, and Noelia, our producer) as ex-lovers, set the scene in an art gallery instead of a restaurant/bar, and made the “fishing” dialogue an inside joke between the couple and subtext about their dynamic.

As we were setting up the scene, Bahrani asked what we were doing. I told him. He told me that that wasn’t the scene — we had to do the scene. It had to be in a restaurant/bar and it had to be at a table while the one character writes. He also told us that our producer cannot be our actress. We had to pick a new actress from the class. Liliana Dalen was nice enough to volunteer.

Basically, everything we prepared was for nought. But that’s okay. It was a great exercise in thinking on our feet and finding ways of adapting what we had already prepared for the scene. I managed to keep my cool during the whole thing and had explanations for all of my decisions.

The main crux of the exercise was to use blocking, props, and camera movements to denote the turning points and tell the story. He advised that even before bringing the camera to the set the director should work with the actors to prepare blocking and the use of props. The way an actor stands during a particular line or handles a prop conveys the subtext of the scene and helps illustrate the turning points. Camera doesn’t come in until after. Once you bring the camera in, the director should consider the most economical ways of shooting the scene. Do what is absolutely necessary and what best conveys the story/turning points/mood in a way that involves the least amount of camera set-ups.

What he wanted us to learn was the importance of individual scenes. There should be no throwaway scenes. Every scene should have a point and reveal something new and push the story forward. A deceptively simple exercise that was incredibly difficult and thought-provoking.

Often times young directors will think of a scene in camera moves. It is a visual medium, so it is natural for us to imagine the scene with the shots we have in mind. It is easy to fall in love with these shots. We need to get out of this habit. We need to consider the shots once we have considered everything else happening in the scene. Only then will we arrive at shot selection that truly contributes to the scene instead of devaluing it.

Oh yeah. Andrew Garfield was hanging in the back for a little bit.

Andrew Garfield at Bahrani’s Masterclass (photo by Sam Ishii-Gonzales)

My camera and lenses were stolen in November 2011. I’ve been saving up some dough to buy a new one. I’m not trying to break the bank, so the Blackmagic Cinema Camera is out of the question. After reading many articles and watching lots of video comparisons, I’m most interested in the Panasonic GH2. When it’s hacked it produces images nicer than any of the Canon DSLRs (yes, even the 5d Mark 3 — though that camera is still the low light king). The reduction in shallow depth of field is fine with me; I’d much rather have deeper focus anyways. However, one thing that was holding me back was the issue of lenses.

Put together by dvxuser.com member Barry.

Most articles online say that the micro 4/3 lens of the Panasonic GH2 (and AF-100) have a crop factor of 2. That means a 50mm lens on a micro 4/3 sensor will yield a FOV of 100mm. However, that is in comparison to 35mm stills camera. What we really need to be comparing this to is its Super 35mm equivalent — especially if we want to recreate a FOV similar to movies (or APS-C sensors like on the 7D and 60D, which is nearly the same size as Super 35). Using Abelcine FOV calculator, I’ve calculated the Super 35 equivalent FOV of lenses on a micro 4/3 sensor. Here are my findings…

FOV in terms Super 35/micro 4/3 sensors:

• 18mm acts like 25.5mm on micro 4/3. Need 12.7 mm to be equivalent to 18mm on Super 35 sensor.
• 24mm acts like 34mm on micro 4/3. Need 16.9 mm to be equivalent to 24mm on Super 35 sensor.
• 28mm acts like 39.7mm on micro 4/3. Need 19.7 mm to be equivalent to 28mm on Super 35 sensor.
• 35mm acts like 49.6mm on micro 4/3. Need 24.7 mm to be equivalent to 35mm on Super 35 sensor.
• 40mm acts like 56.7mm on micro 4/3. Need 28.2 mm to be equivalent to 40mm on Super 35 sensor.
• 50 mm acts like 25.5mm on micro 4/3. Need 35.3mm to be equivalent to 50mm on Super 35 sensor.
• 85mm acts like 120.5mm on micro 4/3. Need 59.9mm to be equivalent to 85mm on Super 35 sensor.

In terms of Panasonic micro 4/3 zoom lenses (two of which aren’t out yet) and Super 35 equivalents:

• 7-14mm micro 4/3 zoom acts like 19-20mm on Super 35 sensor.
• 12-35mm micro 4/3 zoom acts like 17-50mm on Super 35 sensor.
• 35-100 micro 4/3 zoom acts like 50-140mm on Super35 sensor.

CONCLUSIONS (most common film focal lengths are underlined):

• To achieve 18mm FOV on micro 4/3 sensor, buy 12mm lens
• To achieve 24mm FOV on micro 4/3 sensor, buy 17mm lens
• To achieve 28mm FOV on micro 4/3 sensor, buy 20mm lens
• To achieve 35mm FOV on micro 4/3 sensor, buy 25mm lens
• To achieve 40mm FOV on micro 4/3 sensor, buy 28mm lens
• To achieve 50mm FOV on micro 4/3 sensor, buy 35mm lens
• To achieve 70mm FOV on micro 4/3 sensor, buy 50mm lens
• To achieve 85mm FOV on micro 4/3 sensor, buy 60mm lens

I’ve made a mix for the actors/crew of my new short How Will We Cross the Seas? These are songs that reflect the mood of the piece and the psyche of the characters.

Tracklist:

1. “Catastrophe” – Rainer Maria (Catastrophe Keeps Us Together)
2. “Song for Annie’s Harmonica” – Kind of Like Spitting (In the Red)
3. “Stay Home” – American Football (American Football)
4. “End of the World” – Mock Orange (Disguised as Ghosts)
5. “You’ve Escaped” – Aloha (Here Comes Everyone)
6. “A Solitary Angle on the Confinement of Doom” – Birthmark (The Layer)
7. “Sysiphean” – Real Good (Is This Good? Demo)
8. “The Weight of the Straw” – Ida (Lovers Prayers)
9. “Bed of Pine” – Communipaw (Bed of Pine EP)
10. “I Beleive” – Owen (Ghost Town)
11. “I’ll Be There” – Sun Kil Moon (I’ll Be There EP)
12. “This Day Next Year” – Karate (Unsolved)

I’ve worked with with the Bolex 16mm on my short “Spader-Man” and absolutely loved the look of it. Digital could never really capture the raw, organic feel that film has (I know those words are really overused, but whatever). What I especially like about film is that it makes you much more prepared. So much more has to go into the preproduction process–a detailed shot list, storyboards, intensive rehearsals with actors–so you don’t end up wasting film (and money).

Currently I’m in the process of casting the two leads and finding a Director of Photography with 16mm experience.

That’s all for now,
Shaun

Welcome to my portfolio blog! I will be posting interesting camera and film news, as well as upcoming project updates and insights.

Enjoy,
Shaun