The Sacrifices of Filmmaking

Sometimes the most interesting film narratives are the ones that take place off the screen. I love hearing stories of how people got their big breaks. Unfortunately, these stories are often finessed into something that may be more entertaining and inspiring than what really transpired. I often wonder about the snippets that end up on the cutting room floor. The part of the story that comes right before "...and then Steven Spielberg saw my short." The part about how one got their short into Spielberg's hands in the first place.

That's not to say that just because you have a cousin that knows someone you aren't talented. Success is never really about one thing. Talent, timing and a little bit of luck usually play a part. In theory all those stars align.

The truth is we never see the whole picture. Careers are not born out of single moments. They gestate over time unseen by the general public. These are the stories I want to hear.

For that reason, I was really excited to see this post by Filmmaker Magazine. They asked Sundance filmmakers what their greatest sacrifice was while making their films. For some, such as Nick Ryan during The Summit and Dylan Mohan Gray of Fire in the Blood - the sacrifices of their collaborators can't get any more real. Others such as Roger Ross Williams of God Loves Uganda and Shaul Shwartz of Narco Cultura put themselves in harms way to get their stories. And then there are those that speak more of the sacrifices I know and relate to - the self-doubt one has to overcome like Randy Moore of Escape from Tomorrow or the time away from family so eloquently spoken of by James Ponsoldt of Spectacular Now.

As a new mom I think a lot about the sacrifice of spending time away from family to make my dreams come true. My husband and I have both given up vacations, sanity and financial stability in our creative pursuits.  But when a kid enters the picture some sacrifices start to feel more real. I was really touched by what Liz W. Garcia had to say about making The Lifeguard. I too hope my daughter will be proud of her mom, even if it means I am not always there to tuck her in at night.

Collectively, these stories are a really interesting look into what goes into making a film. Some answers are better than others, of course, but it's worth taking a read.

Help. I'm being held hostage.

I am under attack. I am being held by a 14lb hostage taker against my will and she won't negotiate. My six month old daughter is going through a transition phase. By transition I mean morphing from a sweet, loving child to an angry temper tantrum throwing tornado who sweeps through the apartment in the wee hours of dawn.

I've always read that sleep training sucks but nothing can prepare you for the guilt. All the books tell you how awful you will feel listening to your child scream bloody murder, but what they don't tell you is that the guilty parent feelings you have are compounded and multiplied tenfold by guilty neighbor feelings.

See, I can listen to my daughter cry. Sure, I feel awful and it's unpleasant. But I can see through those crocodile tears and manipulative octaves. But what really cuts me to the core is the thought of all my neighbors silently cursing me from under their covers. It makes me want to rent a cabin in the woods and hunker down until we get through this. Of course, then she wouldn't be in her own bed, in her own room which would defeat the point and lead us right back to where we are. Oh, cruel, cruel world.

You would think with all the people on the planet there could be some definitive source to turn to. With all the different parenting styles I would be able to find a formula that works for me. But I am seriously at a loss. Do we try to Ferberize? Is it too soon? Do I have the mental fortitude to even survive that? Or do we co-sleep until she's 20? Is this just a phase? Will she outgrow it on her own? Is this my fault? Am I doing something wrong? Is it because she's having a growth spurt? Starting solids? Transitioning from a bassinet to a crib? A combination or none of the above?

So far this is the worst part of parenthood. And I'm not sure if it's better or worse that she still wakes up looking ridiculously adorable and super happy. Her smile is the only ray of sunshine after three hours of non-consecutive sleep.

Right now my only solace is that I have a comfy couch in my office and a do not disturb sign to hang on the door. I think I'll go use it.

A Short Sampling from Park City

I've been to the Sundance Film Festival a few times and I am always surprised at how many people go and don't see any films. This is surprisingly common at film festivals. I am one of these crazy people that loves to see films at festivals. But maybe that's cause I can also be quite socially awkward and don't particular like getting wasted. As the 2013 Sundance Festival gets underway I'll be listening from a far at what films everyone is buzzing about that I will most likely find over-hyped when I eventually see them a year from now. 

But in the meantime I also plan on catching the few films that I can online. Sundance releases a bunch of shorts in their Youtube screening room. I haven't watched them all yet, but the ones I have seen are pretty great. Definitely worth checking out. You can watch them here.

The Place I Grew Up

My husband grew up across the street from a castle. Not a really big house or a mansion. An actual castle where Napoleon once lived. As an American, that was hard to fathom until I visited. But it's true. Just the width of a single car lane separated his driveway from the castle wall. My sister's husband grew up in the quaint English countryside. The home of a boarding school my husband once attended. A school with twisty turrets, striped scarves and rugby games. The kind of place an American like me can't help but compare to Hogwarts. By contrast, my sister and I grew up in an apartment complex sandwiched between a McDonald's and the hospital where we were born. It's facts like this that highlight the stark differences in our upbringings. 


Over the holidays my sister and I took our husbands to visit our childhood home. Going back everything felt smaller. I guess that’s typical seeing as we were also smaller when we lived there. The hallways that used to seem like our own private labyrinths have since been repainted dungeon grey and now feel institutional and depressing. Still,  I have fond memories of that place. There were always other kids to play with. I did cartwheels in the grass out front. We played jailbreak and Simon Says by the playground. There was this concrete turtle and monkey bars to climb on. And while it might not be as outwardly appealing as the cobble stone streets our husbands grew up on, it wasn't such a bad place to grow up. 

But it’s always interesting to see a place from your past through the eyes of a person in your present. How much of where we've been informs who we are now? 

I've been watching the UP series. It's a series of documentaries that follow a group of British children every seven years starting when they are seven up until the most recentl film - when they are 56. What an amazing journey. I've only watched through 21 Up but it's already sucked me in. It's fun to imagine what these kids will be like and then to watch them grow up before your very eyes. How much of their lives could they have predicted?

I've always found personal stories like that so interesting. It's why I loved zines as much as I used to and why I can spend hours pouring over the personal blogs of strangers. I love the journey.