I found Hope.

I went to a self distribution talk tonight at Film Independent. It was an eye opener and I learned a lot. I still have a lot of research to do, but the most important thing I learned was that independent filmmakers must start marketing their films before they even shoot them. Toward that end, I will start a new blog called "LA, I Hate You," the title of my first feature. More about this later, but now, here's the link to Ted Hope's blog:

http://trulyfreefilm.blogspot.com/

Every independent filmmaker should be reading it.

Life is like a box of bad southern accents.

These are just my current observations since I’ve only seen three (In Bruges, The Dark Knight, Vicky Cristina Barcelona) of the nominees. I will see Milk and Frozen River soon. I have no intention of watching Forest Gump Reloaded. For the rest, I will wait to get my free screening invites. I know I’m not supporting the local economy, but I only pay for foreign language movies.

Best motion picture of the year

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" As I said, Forest Gump Reloaded.

"Frost/Nixon" I think I’d rather see the actual interviews, which are out on DVD.

"Milk" Forget it. Brokeback Mountain already got it.

"The Reader" A holocaust movie would normally have a better than good chance but the top contenders are Benjamin and Slumdog. They’ll give it to Kate.

"Slumdog Millionaire" Danny Boyle has yet to make a bad movie, so, even if this one is not his best, it has the feel good factor on its side. It’d be an upset if it didn’t win. Plus, Mumbai, you know…terrorists and all. Yea, it’s gonna win.

Performance by an actor in a leading role

Richard Jenkins in “The Visitor”: Crap. I missed the free screening. I’ll push it up my Netflix queue.

Frank Langella in "Frost/Nixon"

Sean Penn in "Milk"

Brad Pitt in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button": Only one thing comes to mind when I see or hear this name. Brad is fucking JC.

Mickey Rourke in "The Wrestler": I think this is pretty much a done deal unless Bono starts campaigning for Brad.

Performance by an actor in a supporting role

Josh Brolin in "Milk": I like Josh, but he’s a wife beater.

Robert Downey Jr. in "Tropic Thunder": This is the Academy’s idea of an African American nominee this year. They must have missed Forest Whitaker in Vantage Point. Denzel, where are you?


Heath Ledger in "The Dark Knight": I suspect they gave him the Globe so they wouldn’t have to waste the Oscar on a dead dude, but there isn’t much competition in this category. Slam dunk.

Michael Shannon in "Revolutionary Road”: I don’t even know who this dude is.

Philip Seymour Hoffman in "Doubt": As if he cares.

Performance by an actress in a leading role

Anne Hathaway in "Rachel Getting Married": Cue ball eye lids has no chance against Kate.

Angelina Jolie in "Changeling": Probably not, since the consensus was that the movie was not very good. Newsflash: I like her now that I found out Brad is screwing JC. Turns out Angie has a tattoo of a crucifix on her khunt-adjacent region. Now, that’s what I call a sense of humor.

Meryl Streep in "Doubt": Hey, what happened to Mamma Mia nomination?

Kate Winslet in "The Reader": Holocaust movie and British actor. I can’t think of a more winning combination. Can you?

Melissa Leo in "Frozen River"

Performance by an actress in a supporting role

This is where the big bucks will be made. I’m waiting to see what the Vegas odds are. But since there are no other African American nominees and The Messiah is now Prez….you do the math. Viola or Taraji.

Amy Adams in "Doubt"
Penélope Cruz in "Vicky Cristina Barcelona"
Viola Davis in "Doubt"
Taraji P. Henson in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button"

Marisa Tomei in "The Wrestler": You have to be kidding me. She should show up and return the Oscar she already got.

Best animated feature film of the year

"Bolt" Chris Williams and Byron Howard
"Kung Fu Panda" John Stevenson and Mark Osborne

"WALL-E" Andrew Stanton: The geniuses of Pixar will definitely get it.

Achievement in cinematography

"Changeling" Tom Stern
"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" Claudio Miranda
"The Dark Knight" Wally Pfister
"The Reader" Chris Menges and Roger Deakins

"Slumdog Millionaire" Anthony Dod Mantle:
Tony, I call him Tony, shot Festen (The Celebration to you philistines), one of my top twenty (I love you Ulrich!) and many cool movies. I really, really, really hope he wins.

Achievement in directing

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" David Fincher: I have nothing against Fincher, just Brad and Forest Gump.

"Frost/Nixon" Ron Howard: I have lots against Opie. As a director, not as a person.

"Milk" Gus Van Sant: As long as his movies are financed, I don’t really care. He can direct Will Good Hunting Redux and I wouldn’t diss him

"The Reader" Stephen Daldry: Sorry. Tough competitors. There’s always next year.

"Slumdog Millionaire" Danny Boyle: Fincher is his only competition. And Boyle has directed more and better movies.

Best documentary feature

"The Betrayal (Nerakhoon)": A woman cinematographer’s first directorial debut. Love it.

"Encounters at the End of the World": I just want to see if Werner shows up to the ceremony. I have to admit I’d be very disappointed if he did.

"Man on Wire": This is the best suspense thriller of the year, bur frankly, I don’t know if I can sit through it. The subject unnerves me.

"The Garden"

"Trouble the Water"

Best foreign language film of the year

I haven’t seen them. I know I said I only pay for foreign movies, but what I meant by foreign was, French movies through the 1960s.

"The Baader Meinhof Complex" - Germany
"The Class" - France
"Departures" - Japan
"Revanche" - Austria
"Waltz with Bashir" - Israel

Adapted screenplay

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" Screenplay by Eric Roth: Eric shamelessly plagiarizes a movie he already won an Oscar for. F. Scott Fizgerald my ass. Roth is my screenwriting role model.

"Doubt" Written by John Patrick Shanley: It’s a play, not a movie. Blah, blah, blah…

"Frost/Nixon" Screenplay by Peter Morgan

"The Reader" Screenplay by David Hare

"Slumdog Millionaire" Screenplay by Simon Beaufoy: Start making room on your mantle Simon.

Original screenplay

"Frozen River" Written by Courtney Hunt

"Happy-Go-Lucky" Written by Mike Leigh: Mike deserves an Oscar for every film he has written and directed. Period.

"In Bruges" Written by Martin McDonagh: My kind of movie. Scabrously funny, gloriously irreverent and black as night. No chance in hell.

"Milk" Written by Dustin Lance Black

"WALL-E" Screenplay by Andrew Stanton, Jim Reardon

I will update as I see more movies. I have to admit I’m very disappointed in the Academy. Only three black nominees in this entire list, including Robert Downey Jr. Whatever happened to Change and Hope? Oprah is not going to be happy. No siree.

So LA! with Sister Galina

We’ve hit a minor snag in our production schedule due to our financing falling through. It seems the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Los Angeles has a $660 million bill to pay and won’t be able to fund our show. Luckily for us and you, PBS has agreed to step in and save the day. We’re very happy but don’t expect to see any pinko commie programming. No siree! We will not compromise our laissez faire ideals. However, due to the significant reduction in funding, we will have to cut down on our production costs. Hopefully this won’t have any effect on the production value of the show. We are committed to bringing you quality programming.

Having said that...

Sister Galina and I spent yesterday evening taping her video introduction so that you can get to know her a little better. You can check it out at:

http://operator11.com/people/3312

All you have to do is click on one the little boxes to the right of your screen and voila! You’ll get a little tidbit about Sister Galina and what makes her tick. Watch it, rate it and comment at your heart’s content.

We’ll keep you posted on our progress.

Teri Carson
Executive Producer
So LA! with Sister Galina

P.S. You can watch the trailer at the link above or here:



P.S.S. Now you have a really good reason to contribute to PBS! But wait for the membership drives so you can get a cool gift. I swear by my Dr. Perricone kit. My skin has never looked better. Or if you ruined your credit you might consider the Suze Orman package. Just a suggestion.

So it goes.

“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’ ”

Mr. Rosewater

A friend in need.

His name is Eric Volz and he's a friend of mine. He is a U.S. Citizen and has just been sentenced to 30 years in a Nicaraguan prison for crimes he did not commit.

He was working as the publisher for El Puente Magazine in Nicaragua when he was accused, convicted, and sentenced for murder.

He is suffering a slow and debilitating existence under conditions beyond your comprehension. Fighting starvation and under the constant threat of violent attacks. His life is on the line everyday!

This is not a joke, this is not a game, this is his struggle. The facts of his situation speak for themselves and can be found at the website indicated. If you think you can help him in anyway do not hesitate, we are begging you....his survival could depend on it.

WWW.FRIENDSOFERICVOLZ.COM


WWW.MYSPACE.COM/FREEERICVOLZ

Subplot: Bon Voyeurage

If I could, I would

live on Pinot Noir, bread pudding and Sour Patch Kids
be cooler than Patti Smith
make Johnny Depp realize he’s neither cool nor French
play the piano like Oscar Peterson
sing like Sarah Vaughn
bring Jeff Buckley back to life
party with Sam Peckinpah and Keith Richards
cook like Chef Pepin
marry Jon Stewart
lock Bill O’Reilly with Tarantino's gimp
make it impossible for Ann Coulter to get a vibrator
feed the vegans
liberate the Anne Geddes babies
hide Billie Joe Armstrong’s eyeliner from him
ban anything Uggs
star in a Godard film
and
never misspell another word

Therapy

“Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in a human situation.” --Graham Greene

I put on my running shoes, wire myself to my iPod, and hit the road. During the first forty minutes I work out my problems, then I break the wall. After that, I can go on running until my legs quit on me, usually at the two hour mark. During this time, I create, find story and structural solutions to my screenplays, direct the film in my mind, storyboard, etc.

It has often been said that therapy kills creativity. Paul Schrader said it was the opposite, that it opened new doors. I don’t know. If I could afford therapy, I don’t even know if I would try it. I don’t know if I want to find out what is wrong with me. I think if I did, I’d turn into a very boring person. I like being hopelessly flawed.

Imagine you are an idiot.

A popular, somewhat charismatic, social butterfly, but an idiot nevertheless. You don’t need to think because you have surrounded yourself with a lot of smart and evil buddies who will tell you what to do and what to say. All you need to do is read out loud and smirk once in a while. They’ll take care of everything. And that, they have done. You don’t really have to know anything about nothing and nothing about anything as long as you are popular with the frat boys and sorority girls.

One crisp November day you wake up and you hear that there was a poll taken by your local newspaper. In it they say that you ain’t popular no more. That 68% of the people don’t like you no more. They think you suck and they think you ain’t kosher. Of course you might be a bit concerned. So you ask your smart evil buddies what’s up with that. They tell you not to worry because everything is taken care of. They tell you to go get ready for your trip to Argentina, that they love you there, pat you on the back, and give you a box of animal crackers to munch on.

Walking down the hall, you notice the people that hang out in your big house seem kinda’ down. You offer them some cookies, then tell them a joke, but they don’t laugh. You ask them “what’s wrong sour pusses?” They tell you your best buds are messing up everything and they are making everyone look like lying bastards. You sing “liar liar pants on fire!” but they don’t cheer up. You say “fine, be that way.” They tell you your best bud has to go or else there’s gonna be big trouble. You see a shiny object at the end of the hall and are mesmerized by it. You go towards the shiny light telling yourself “I am popular, I am popular, I don’t suck, everything is gonna be OK…”

jason rules in an echo boomer world

Once in a while, if you are lucky, you come across something that makes the trip to L.A. Fitness worthwhile. On my way to the 8:15 class, I stopped at the Magnolia and Coldwater Walgreen’s for a bottle of water. Kim Gordon in my ears, I headed for the cold beverage display. Another decision. Domestic or imported? After five minutes of pondering my options, I chose Evian, because it was cheaper than Arrowhead. “Come on down to the store you can buy some more, and more, and more, and more you can buy some more, and more, and more, and more you can buy some more, and more, and more, and more you can buy some more, and more, and more, and more…”

At the one and only open register, a couple of women were in front of me. I noticed a strange look on their faces. A cross between puzzlement and defeat. I put Kim on pause. I wanted to know. I looked over to the clerk. He was no more than 20, big blue eyes, large nose. He greeted me “hey” and took my bottle of French water. A tall Russian lady approached and asked him the location of the wrapping paper. Without looking up or pointing, he said, “over there.” The Russian lady and I looked over to the aisles then looked at each other. She asked, “where?” He answered, “Over there.” She looked at me, pleading. I looked over to the aisles. “Where?” she asked again. “Over there,” he responded, adding a quick swing of the head in the general direction of the entire store. “Aisle four,” I offered decisively, hoping it was a good enough guess. Jason looked up at me and asked, “how are you today?” The Russian lady thanked me and headed for aisle four. “Phenomenal,” I answered.

”What are you still doing standing there?” Jason asked, looking over to the entrance of the store. A young woman stood there patiently. I figured she was one of his friends paying him a visit.

“You were supposed to do a price check.”
“I was?”
“Yes, isn’t anybody looking?”
”Oh yea. We don’t have it.”

She just stood there, agape. I handed Jason my money, disappointed my own transaction went so well. The young woman let out a gasp, threw her hands up in the air, turned around and left the store. I looked at my watch hoping I had time to stay a little while to continue watching Jason in action, and perhaps, help a needy customer. Damn, my class was starting in five minutes. I took my water, pressed play, and I was on my way. “Close your eyes and make believe You can do whatever you please I wanna know I think I better go…”

Unlike in movies, in life there are no false moments. There is hope for mankind, people like Jason really exist.

Prologue

As I rolled along the freeway by the Oceanside exit, I made a pact with myself to keep the OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE I DONEs to a minimum. The caffeine from my triple latte had not kicked in yet, so I was still in a state of depression. I looked through the rearview mirror trying to catch a glimpse of the traffic behind me through the piles of crap I had stuffed in my back seat. The car was full to the rim. I had become a cliché, a mere E! Hollywood Story reenactment. The girl with the big dreams driving to Hollywood to meet with Success. In her car, everything she owned. Well, actually, not really. Her roommate had left earlier with a Uhaul full with their precious belongings. She imagined future interviews. She would not be able to tell James Lipton or Henry Rollins she lived out of her car, since they had secured a 1200 sq. ft. apartment in NoHo. Hipster pseudonym for North Hollywood.

The landscape became uglier and hotter with every turn of the wheels. It’s not funny how dismal things look at 5 mph. My god, just a week ago I was in London, in SoHo, not NoHo! Then the caffeine kicked in. I knew with certainty I was doing the right thing. Who needs self-help and support groups when you have a pink card from Coffee Bean? Suddenly, Orange County didn’t look so bad and I was going 55 mph. Then, CA-101 and 15 mph, also known as the Via Dolorosa. An OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE crossed my mind as the blue sky became a shade of stale gray. No big deal, I thought. Blue skies and decent traffic never got me anywhere. Later, I found out that, technically, my apartment was not in NoHo, but Valley Village. “Valley!” Today, after two months of telling people I live in NoHo and Mapquest telling me I live in Valley Village, I accepted and embraced my colorful neighborhood. I am not looking back.

He Always Gets in the Way

I wish I could climb inside my head and give my brain a few slaps once in a while. It really pisses me off that, let's call it a He, He is trying to sabotage me. There is a reason why patterns of behavior repeat themselves. It is your brain trying to fuck you up and He is very successful. Don't get me wrong. I have become very attached to my brain and I really love Him a lot, but He can be a son-of-a-bitch sometimes. He is always reminding me of His superior quality and why I should always pay attention to Him and that He is always right. For some time now, I have suspected that He is not always right. I know He is trying to protect me, but does He really know what is best for me in all situations? He thinks He is, but now I think I know better. I hope one day to be stronger than He so that I can jump without thinking.

I know. This entry doesn't make sense. It is because I am not paying attention to Him.

False Innocence

"Americans" (to clarify: specifically the ones that reside in one of the 50 states currently known as the United States of America) are very naïve. They don't want to see the involvement of the United States in destruction and torture over the years. The United States likes to see itself with a halo on its head, and whenever a revelation like Abu Ghraib or My Lai and now Fallujah surfaces, U.S. citizens tend to shrug it off as an anomaly. When you look at the last fifty years of U.S. history, it is anything but. From Greece to Iran to Indonesia to Vietnam and throughout Latin America, the U.S. government has been complicit in the torture or murder of hundreds of thousands of people.

Memory is a prerequisite for morality. Americans lack memory, they are amnesiacs. The writer Ariel Dorfman calls such historical amnesia a "false innocence." It is entirely functional to the sort of empire that the United States has become. It is true that the media does not serve up enough analysis and information to allow people here to judge what is happening. But it is also true that too many people are willingly blinding themselves to truths that are looking them in the face. They are too busy watching reality television and Desperate Housewives. Violence is an integral part of being an empire. We are the beneficiaries of an empire, and the empire rests on a number of props that we don't care to look at. Torture and violence has been and will continue to be, one of the main tools.

If "Americans" (again: specifically the ones that reside in one of the 50 states currently known as the United States of America) were to truly acknowledge what is being done in their name, they would have to change the way they live and remember, work and play. Or give up seeing themselves as ethical. Do you see that happening?

The Objects of Detachment

Years ago I decided to simplify my life and get rid of all my junk. I went through my things and tossed anything I could not justify keeping. It took a while, but by the time I was finished, I had gotten rid of every single shoe box, piece of trendy clothing, magazine, greeting card, etcetera, I had kept for years. In order to avoid such a tremendous project in the future, I made it my practice to throw away things I didn't need as soon as I could. It wasn't hard getting used to detachment. This detachment of things perhaps led to detachment of people--a certain hard-earned independence and strength to endure heartache of any kind.

My grandmother used to write me short, little notes. These notes were an indirect reminder that it was about time I sent her some money, but she always threw in a wise, loving message that would make me feel things were going to be just fine. I was more than happy to pay in exchange for her comforting words. The last note she wrote to me and the only one I kept, I carry with me in my wallet. It reads (in Spanish):

"God willing, you will be content and happy and I wish you the best. I can't see very well any more, but I will see when I can see you. Your Nana"

The day after my mother passed away, I went to my sister's house. I noticed she had set up photographs of our mother and lit candles by the fireplace . There were some greeting cards, which I assumed were sympathy cards from her friends. On closer inspection, I discovered that not all the cards were sympathy cards. Some were birthday cards our mother had given to her. My mother's sweet and loving written words induced a pain of loss I had never felt before, but then, extreme envy took over. I tried to recall if I still had birthday cards from my mother. I rushed home and searched every corner of my apartment, looking for one, just one. I am still looking. There has to be one somewhere.

Favorite Five Movie Moments

1. The Madison dance sequence on Band of Outsiders

2. Opening sequence of Fellini's 8 1/2

3. Once Upon a Time in the West: Frank's gang kills the McBain family.

4. Full Metal Jacket: Joker with Rafterman frightened and puking and DOORGUNNER laughs and yells as he fires
his M-60 machine gun. "Get some ... get some ... get some ... get some ...yeah ... yeah ... get some ... get some."

5. Chungking Express: At the end, when Faye Wong comes back to Tony. Can't get more romantic than that. California dreaming...

Hemingway was right.

Everything is better when you are hungry. Starving. Art. So easy. Stroll the streets of Paris. And you are there. Just get there. Easy. Forget about the pain in your gut. The burning and the windows of Fauchon,

Characters Running Amock

Why is my screenplay getting more complex? That wasn't the plan. I was supposed to simplify it to make it easier and cheaper to shoot, but these damn characters just want to do their own thing. I don't know what they are up to, but I can't wait to find out. And it better be good.

Dress Rehearsal

I have decided to shoot a short film in April in preparation for my feature. The idea is to shoot it in the same style, with the same cameras--Panasonic DVX100A and Aaton A-Minima-- and roughly the same crew. I need to find out if I really want to shoot with the DVX100A. It will be a dress rehearsal for the big show.

Everything is Pretend

Where am I going to get the courage to get up in front of people and act? I don't know, but I have to do it and there is no getting around it.

What we want propels us into action. Action precedes all emotion. We really think we are going to get out of this alive. Of course we are not. We are all going to die. But we go around acting as if we are never going to die. We are all actors in our own reality.

Stalker of Truth

Luckily, I just stumbled upon the essay that got me into the Telluride Film Festival Student Symposium. Today has been a day full of self-doubt and my words remind me of why I love and make art.

The question was: If you could only take one film with you to the future, which one and why?

Stalker of Truth

A few of years ago, during my nihilistic-existential-Nietzsche-worshipping-black turtleneck-wearing period, I found myself lying on a couch, pondering the absurdity of existence. As I succumbed to the mind-numbing effect of channel surfing, I stumbled upon an image that would change my life forever: A small, burning candle resting on a stone wall juxtaposed with a black-and-white image of a man and a German shepherd sitting on the ground in front of a small pond.

The camera slowly dollies back to show a small Russian wooden house in the background. As this mesmerizing shot unfolds, it begins to snow. Then, the man, the dog and the house are revealed to be inside of an open, roofless Italian cathedral. The film ends and to my dismay there are no end credits! For days, I couldn’t think of anything else and my search for this film, which had provided me with a glimpse of personal truth, became an obsession. I finally found out the film's title, Nostalghia, acquired it and rushed home to watch it again. I was not prepared for the effect that this film would have on me as a human being and an artist. It helped me to realize that, unknowingly, my one-time, nihilistic perspective of religion’s promise of salvation as a dangerous illusion had buried the precious gift of longing for truth deep within me.

I needed to know that I was not alone and abandoned in an empty, absurd universe. Within the first ten seconds in Nostalghia, the late Andrei Tarkovsky shows me that I am not; and as the film unfolds, I have surrendered my attention and consciousness to the hands of a true and powerful poet of the cinema. And he, in turn, has made me a fellow stalker of truth.

The film’s conclusion—an extremely long take of a dying Gorchakov trying to cross a pool carrying a lighted candle in response to a request by Domenico—could be the most moving scene this legendary film director has ever shot. This sequence captures what no amount of searching, studying, reading and asking was able to do for me in my life up to that point. It provides the answer to my questions about personal responsibility for my own destiny and personal happiness. This answer is contained in the close up of Gorchakov's hands as he shields the candle from the wind and slowly puts it down. Unable to verbalize the beauty of this sequence, I looked to Tarkovsky’s own writing. In his book Sculpting in Time, he writes, "The way must be found from one person to another. Such is the sacred duty of humanity towards its own future, and the personal duty of each individual." Tarkovsky's films and the sage-like words of wisdom found in his book helped me to discover the meaning of true responsibility; that every human action has intrinsic meaning, and that therein lies hope. In Domenico’s own desperate words, "We must go back to the point where we took the wrong turn!"

Nostalghia tells us that we have two choices: Perish in a last, desperate cry of warning like Domenico. Or, like Gorchakov, carry the flame of the human spirit with conviction and yearning for a fulfilling existence. Tarkovsky’s films evoke a world illuminated by faith and the promise of transcendence, in which authentic spirituality can flourish. Although I still wear black turtlenecks, I no longer view Sartre and Nietzsche as my support group for dealing with mankind’s path towards more suffering and destruction. Rather, I participate in Tarkovsky's sacred dialogue with creation because he wants his audience to join in this sublime conversation. And I take part in this extended dialogue as a film lover, artist, filmmaker and kindred spirit.

Just as I cannot imagine a life without those I love, I cannot imagine a life without this film. Tarkovsky’s masterwork keeps me honest and gives me the necessary bursts of hope and strength to persevere despite the world’s human suffering and glamorized triviality. Every time I watch Nostalghia, I discover something new in the work that addresses the universal search for meaning. Some people have meditation, yoga, self-help books, Tibetan philosophy, psychiatrists, Oprah and Dr. Phil. I have Nostalghia, Andrei Tarkovsky and the drive and ambition to make my own films that will, hopefully, touch someone the way this great filmmaker's art has moved and changed me.

"Art is born and takes hold wherever there is a timeless and insatiable longing for the spiritual." -Andrei Tarkovsky