Note: This post is more of a rally for help than anything. Details at the bottom.
I’d like to think that I’m pretty organized, relatively on top of things, an elephant when it comes to remembering things. Except when it comes to remembering things I don’t. A long time ago I developed a lovely habit where I instantly forgot about anything I wrote down. Appointment with the doctor? Sure, jot it down on a sticky-note and forget about it.
Like, completely-forget-and-get-billed-for-a-no-show kind of “forget about it”.
Notes are a wonderful reminder, assuming I ever look at them again.
This time I nearly forgot that this weekend was the 48 Hour Film Competition here in Denver. There is a note of it on my wall calendar, which sits just outside of my peripheral vision in my office. Sometimes, I wonder why I even have that calendar, then I remember it has pictures of awesome robots and space adventurers on it.
I last participated in this competition two years ago with a Craigslist-formed group whose primary goal was to gather and become screenwriters. As a screenwriting group, it was alright. Myself, I wasn’t a screenwriter. I understand the format and the ideas behind arcs and character development, and I also love to watch movies – but it never really formed into a craft that I know well enough to put on a business card. As a group, we analyzed each other’s scripts, worked some exercises, drank a lot of coffee and ended up bullshitting for hours on end. We decided to join up with the 2008 48 hour film competition because it would some how justify our existence.
The logic: We’re screenwriters, and great movies come from well-written stories. Therefore, we will win.
The reality: Yeah, not so much.
I am a writer because it is something that I can, by and large, do by myself. If I don’t write one day the only person I would be letting down is myself. Making movies, no matter how short and asinine, requires other people. Not just any people, but reliable people who can close on what they claim. Going into the last competition I was ready to write, we all were, but I didn’t think much about the rest of the filmmaking process – gathering talent and speculating locations, acquiring equipment, lighting, makeup. And food. I have a hard enough time remembering to keep myself fed, much less remembering to feed a cast and crew of a dozen people.
Matt, the gentleman who put out the Craigslist call for screenwriters months before, was more or less our unnamed leader. Although it was an open call for anyone who put the pen to the page – anyone could join – it eventually whittled down to a regular 5. Everyone had a different style of writing, a different type of genre they seemed to focus in. On our own, within our personal scripts, we made some pretty amazing things.
Combining all of these different viewpoints, experiences and perspectives together to collaborate on a script we had about 7 hours to write? Not so great. Especially when our assigned genre was “comedy” – it wasn’t exactly a laughing matter. Most television shows, especially comedies, are written by a team of people. I caught an episode of NPR that followed the writers of The Onion for a week and discovered that writing comedy isn’t funny at all. When you have to rush to write comedy in a sleep-deprived state where egos are on the line – it’s damn near impossible. Jokes are weird like that: they have to stew, ferment, develop. Most comedians will work on a joke for years, trying out different timing, beats, variations in wording and content, before they have something that actually works.
Then again, there are some comedians that don’t.
By the end of the 48 hours, we had a short film – the required 5 to 8 minutes – and the knowledge and experience that comes with knowing deadlines, the abilities of your teammates (what they’re good at, and what they suck at) and the abilities of yourself (mostly what you really suck at).
The composition of the team is a little different this year. I’ll be working with 40 Nights of Rock filmmaker Scott Sloan and an old screen-writing cohort by the name of Michael Croney. I’d like your help as well.
Yes, you, the occassional reader to this collection of words I call a website.
I’ll need actors. Experience not necessary. I’ll need all sorts of ages and looks and styles. No, I have no idea what roles we’ll need to fill. No, I’m not going to pay you. Yes, you’ll get to experience the thrill that comes with working with a severely sleep deprived David Pennington.
It’ll be fun, swears.
I”m also probably going to need folks who have cool places to volunteer as shooting locations. The more demolition we can do to your place, the better. Or not, we can edit that in post.
Really awesome musicians may also apply.
An animator might be cool too.
Interested? In the Denver area on Saturday, July 31st, 2010? Then drop me a line, give me a call, tweet something in my general direction. What else are you going to do that weekend? Relax? PFffffttfftf
