August 2009 Archives

And so it begins: my first Life After Film School blog entry.  But it's about to transform into something else entirely.  It's going to become a DeLorean: that famous, fabled, Back to the Future-ing car of yesteryear.

The year was 2005.  I was just out of undergrad, wet behind the ears, and freshly transplanted to Los Angeles with nothing but a few bucks and a knapsack full of old IKEA furniture.  I had only one goal: admittance into USC's Graduate Film School.

Sure - I could've stayed back in my hometown while I applied, but moving to LA added some sorely-needed stakes.  Throwing in the towel and moving home would mean explaining myself to my friends and family (who at that point were sick of hearing about my USC dreams).

I had scraped together just enough scratch to move into an apartment (with a roommate - living alone in LA is largely impractical unless you have a bulging wallet or a taste for danger) and live frugally for about a month.

I had zero experience in the film industry.  Zilch.  So I tried my hand at temp work.  I figured I'd gain maximum exposure in minimum time.  I worked reception at one studio, data entry at another.  I was a producer's assistant one month and a talent manager's the next. I validated celebrities' parking stubs and restocked fridges with gourmet bottled water. Drove my trusty Mazda Protege from Santa Monica to the San Fernando Valley delivering commercial footage.  Filled up Ferraris at Beverly Hills gas stations.

I watched someone get fired - 10 feet from my desk - in the loudest, most celebrated, no-holds-barred, cliche Hollywood manner you could possibly imagine.  It was completely ridiculous.  And totally awesome.

But my experiences in Hollywood offices - whilst providing me with the moola to make rent - only reaffirmed my commitment to go to film school at USC.  So a few months after moving to LA, I applied.

...and then I applied again.

And was accepted.  I've been at USC for over 2 years now, and I'll say this about the school:

It is equal parts warm embrace and cold shower.

The USC Cinematic community is impressive in both its ability to create and its capacity to nourish.  The students - many of whom I consider very good friends - are fiercely loyal, and willing to help each other at - sometimes quite literally - a moment's notice.  And the professors?  Talented, and incredibly gracious with their time - God knows they were patient with this largely incompetent film student his first year.

Beyond the fledgling skills I've acquired here so far, USC has taught me that, in filmmaking, my peer does not have to fail in order for me to succeed.  The school shows its students - and makes a concerted effort to remind them - that making movies is foremost a collaborative process.  I have seen firsthand how a script can transcend its origins and become something better, in the hands of filmmakers working together in service of a common goal: to simply tell a really great story.

And that cold shower part?

Everyone here is really, really good.  They keep you awake at night drenched in the sweat of your own self-doubt kind of good.  They're wonderful people, all.  And I'd be lying if I said their talent didn't make me second-guess my own.

But for the opportunity to collaborate with - and learn from - my ridiculously talented classmates?  A sweat-drenched night or two is a modest price to pay.

So - I hope to chronicle my experiences at Life After Film School, as well as my life IN film school.  My time at USC has informed the questions I ask our guests, and the lessons I've learned from them follow me back to campus.

And so each enriches the other.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

I came to Los Angeles in the fall of 2003 with my first draft screenplay and a list of industry contacts most established producers would die for. I had scavenged the Brown University alumni website and scheduled meetings with every exec, writer, producer, director, and agent I could find. I figured they could give me advice on which path to follow if I want to make it in the movie business. I hoped maybe they'd take an interest in my fantastic screenplay about the Galveston Hurricane of 1900, the greatest natural disaster in American history...but they didn't. I thought maybe they'd offer me a job, nothing fancy, sweeping floors or grabbing coffee...but they didn't. What they did do was make me feel like I knew somebody in the industry. They answered my questions and gave me advice. One exec even sent me an invitation to his birthday party on the Strip. How I must have looked amongst that crowd, with my printed out Writer cards, attempting to pitch my script over the din of dance music. Hopefully I didn't stand out as much as I think I did.

Unfortunately, the parties, the meetings, the coffees and brunches led to a whole lot of squat. But I was optimistic. I had set up these connections so down the line, when I knew what I was doing and what to ask for, I could call these folks and they'd remember me and they'd be impressed. Hopefully. So I dove in head first. I got my hands on the UTA joblist, made Craig and his list my new best friend and began my path to becoming a successful writer. I started out temping at New Line, where I filled in for Kent Alterman's assistant during the filming of Son of the Mask in Australia. Then a friend of mine at E! got me a production assistant job working on a show that never got picked up. Then, around March of 2004, I got an internship with Scott Rudin. I knew nothing about Rudin at the time, which was probably a good thing. All I knew was he was BIG and it was on the Paramount lot. I was so excited.

Around the same time I got an internship working at Laurence Mark Productions on the Sony lot. Larry Mark is one of the few exceptions as he was one of the execs who let me come in and pick his brain and he did give me the opportunity to work at his office. I believe he is one of the nicest guys in the business. So anyway, six months into my stint in Hollywood and I was working for two major producers on actual movie lots! Pretty good, huh?

One year later...

I went back to Texas for Christmas and one thing about a small town is that everyone knows your business. People began to point out with great frequency that I had been in LA a year and I hadn't sold a script, wasn't writing for a TV show and shouldn't I move home soon. A couple days after Christmas I had the Plan B discussion. If I didn't find something to support myself and find it pronto, I was gonna be cut off. I had until summer.

To be continued...

Lessons fly at us in abundance when we eager-beaver film students seat ourselves across from industry professionals and with as much eloquence as possible drool at the insights they are willing to share with us.

Making movies is hard work. Somehow these people have endured and sacrificed to get to where they are and are still pleasant human beings. Unlike the rep these industry professionals receive sometimes, everyone of our guests have been genuinely nice people. How do they do it? That is what we aim to dig up at Life After Film School. Come hell or high water at the end of the hour I will walk away with nuggets of information to apply to my aspirations.

Interestingly enough the biggest lesson I've learned in my career at LAFS is that the majority of successful film makers did not attend film school. Do you hear that? That is the sound of my student loans crying. Okay that is not the biggest lesson, but it was certainly a big impression which stuck with me and has been the cause of many sleepless nights. Should I quit school and start shlepping for the industry? Would that be a head start?

I have been fortunate enough to work as a camera assistant/camera utility for the last year or so. All the great people I've met on many sets (many people who did attend film school) have also attested to the sentiment that I should quit film school. Couple months ago I found myself on the set of Martin Scorsese's new film for several days doing camera utility. This was not first unit so Mr.Scorsese was not there, but he was instead hooked up to a live feed from New York on a monitor. I stood there and watched him eat lunch as he waited for us to set up the shot. He ate pizza on his couch. This is a man. Merely a man. Flesh and blood like you and I. Yet somehow when this man eats pizza he is able to create a gratifying life moment for a young little film student like myself. Everything he has accomplished during and after film school has made him into an entity, an icon. How does he do it? Raw unbridled talent, yes. But he also went to film school. Martin's life after film school seems to be going pretty well and I'd like him to finish the sentence the most important thing someone should know before graduating from film school IS?

Working on Life After Film School has been a phenomenal experience and I have learned a great deal, but one of the most invaluable things I have taken from the show so far is this: You have to sell yourself--as a person, a filmmaker, and a colleague.  What a lot of film students, especially screenwriters, tend to overlook is the fact that although we wish we could live like Thoreau and escape to the woods and write in a bubble of our own creative intentions, we have to face the big, bad world of Hollywood.  No one comes knocking on our doors if we do not proactively represent our work and ourselves. 

What that means: we have to interact with producers and studio execs, other writers, and sometimes directors and actors as well.  And most importantly, we have to know how to pitch.  For those unfamiliar with the word pitch, it is a term which signifies that a writer convince another party on the merit, marketability, and badass-ness of a particular project such as an original screenplay.  We not only have to be writers, we have to be actors and businessmen.  Each pitch meeting is like an audition, except you're the only one who knows the lines. 

Life After Film School has aided in preparing me for such auditions.  The numerous call-back auditions for a spot on the show forced me to become comfortable with a camera and, in a sense, market myself as a worthy participant.  The episodes themselves helped me forge a professional persona and made me feel at ease with professionals in this industry, even those who I totally admire (and may still get a little star struck for - like Mr. Rainn Wilson).   

Participating on the show has provided me with the courage to let my inner confidence emerge and has shed some light on the fact that big name actors, writers, directors, and producers are people too, like me.  And what's more - they have been through the very trials and tribulations that I, as a recent film school grad, find myself in: pitching to producers, trying to find that next job, and essentially dealing with the reality of this business.  They are me.  And that is a huge relief.  It makes me think that we are all in this together.  Hollywood may be a scary, cruel, mercurial place, but we have all had or will have a round in Dante's Inferno.  And hopefully, in the course of our careers, we will all have a round in Shangri-La.

During my time on LAFS, I have learned that Hollywood is a business of cogency.  It is in our best interest to convince others that our projects need to get made, that the industry will benefit, that viewers will benefit.  This cogency all starts with attitude.  

I may have a great team of agents and a fabulous manager behind me, cheering for me in the stands, but they won't be in the room with me when it comes time to pitch.  Moreover, they would not be as zealous about helping me land work if I didn't believe in myself first and foremost.