CRAZY, DAUNTING, AND PERFECT

So a while back, my good friend Tim, who I have known forever and who is one of the few people on this planet I trust completely without question, and someone whom I love completely, suggested we make some movies together. This sounded both crazy, daunting, and perfect. So I said yes. 

Or, to be more exact, "Fuck Yeah!" 

We had worked on many projects in the past, from a nine hour, three part  theatre adaptation of East of Eden at the Western Stage in Salinas to a production of Richard II in NYC to my first, and up to that point only, short film, Strong Tea. He was also the lead in my most successful play to date, Burning the Old Man.

That's us in the photo above. Back in the day. Young and crazy. NYC. Cigarettes and beers after a long day slinging hash between acting gigs. Having the time of our lives.

So, there we were having coffee at one of our haunts here in Denver, talking about life and theatre and film. Tim had just made a movie, Publish or Perish, that is kicking ass in the festival circuit and is now available to stream on Amazon. I was in the middle of yet another script- a pilot I was finishing before the deadline for the Austin Film Festival. And that's when Tim popped the question, so to speak.

Yes, I used the phrase "popped the question", the classic phrase for proposing marriage. Let's face it. Making a movie is a commitment up there with marriage. You pledge your heart and soul. For it to work, you have to bare your soul. Be vulnerable. Improvise when problems arise. Be flexible.

So he asked, I said yes, and then it was time to think of a project.

We wanted to make something that could be both a short, and also a proof of concept for a full length movie. And we wanted to take advantage of where we live, with all this natural beauty surrounding us. 

And Burning the Old Man popped up almost immediately.  A story about two estrange brothers taking their father's ashes on a road trip to Burning Man, as per his dying request. Their relationship with their father was difficult, and their relationship with each other even more so. As such, their road trip is full of recrimination, anxiety, and tension, with a tragic sense of loss tuck under a veneer of comedy.  Tim had played Marty, the older brother in the original play, and we both felt he should do so again. 

So I wrote up a script, we kicked it around,  adjusted the story as needed, gathered a crew of dedicated geniuses, and set some dates.

And the magic began. We kept having things happen that just seemed to be signs we were doing the right thing. A friend offered us a hotel up in the mountains to use as our base for the main stretch of shooting. Another friend just happened to live in that same area and offered to scout locations. 

And what locations! Colorado is so pretty, so majestic and huge and full of wonder. And most of the time,  I manage to not see it. But not on the shoot.

I really wanted to just talk about this one moment from the shoot today. It happened at there rocks in the high desert, during the climatic moment of the movie. These two brothers, who have been bickering like children for the past 24 hours, have ended up on this precipice, screaming at each other and having a tuh of war over the bag containing their father's ashes. As written, the bag rips open, the ashes fly, and the brother's dumbfounded at what their stupid fighting has wrought, stare at each other as their father's remains float away. 

On the day of the shoot, we were all a bit tired. We'd shot for 14 hours the day before. Drew, the actor playing Bobby, the younger brother, was not feeling well. Even so, we were all amped. We were making something that felt good, felt right. Felt like what we had all chosen to do with our lives. 

And we get to the scene. Now, to prefect, we had talked a lot about the brother's relationship the past few days. How underneath all the hurt and anger there was a deep love. A heartbroken love. A longing to connect like that had once been able to effortlessly but now seemed impossible. 

So we get to the big moment. The point when the bag rips and the ashes fly. 

The first take, a long shot, goes great. We get a safety shot, then move in for a closer shot. 

And when the bag rips, Drew almost falls off the rocks. For a moment, I think "Shit! I just killed Drew!" Everyone freezes.

Except Tim. 

He instinctively grabs Drew, pulls him up. And then, in character, Tim impulsively hugs Drew. Or rather, Marty impulsively hugs Bobby. We keep rolling. Nobody on set is making a sound. But we all feel connected to what is happening. Bobby tries to break free of the hug. Marty keeps hugging. It's really touching and sad and real. After a beat, Bobby hugs his brother back. 

And we all start hotting and hollering. Something had happened. Something unexpected but totally real. 

Then everyone looks at me. "Do we keep it?" they all ask, in various ways. It is quite different than the ending as written. Changes the trajectory a little. But it feels so right.

And I have to make a decision. It's my script. I'm co-director of this with Tim. Also co-producer. It's my call. 

And I go with it. Tweak the script slightly. 

We finish. And it is clear to me that the movie has now become more than it was. 

And that I am learning more than I could have possibly hoped for when we started making this movie.

Now we are in post. Editing. Mixing. All that type of thing. 

We hope to send it to festivals. To show it to some producers who will shower us with money so we can make the full length film.

But no matter what, I have gained from this experience. 

Here's a song. It's one of my all time favorites. Pale Green Things by The Mountain Goats.