What Does The Sundance Film Festival Mean To Middle Class Filmmakers?

Sundance_Film_FestivalWhat does this year’s Sundance Film Festival mean to Middle Class Filmmakers?

Let’s first compare last year’s sales with this year’s sales. In 2015, the big Hollywood distributors bought the majority of the films showcased at the festival—Fox Searchlight bought “Me and Earl and the Dying Girl”; Open Road bought “Dope”; Sony Pictures Classic bought “Diary of a Teenage Girl.” Just around one year ago, various entertainment news outlets reported that the Sundance Market was “starting to look like the old days.” However, the three films mentioned above ultimately underperformed at the box office. These relatively small films seemed to have gotten lost among the much bigger budget and glitzier blockbusters that the studios released over this past year.

Sundance-2015

Hollywood’s one percent is betting all their money on blockbusters; therefore, to ensure those bets pay off, they focus all of their marketing efforts on these films. They need these films to appeal to as many different demographics as possible, and to as many demographics in as many regions around the world as possible. Smaller, niche material, like the movies bought at Sundance in 2015, are simply not a priority for Hollywood’s bottom line. If one or two of their gigantic tentpoles bomb, it would potentially be enough of a financial disaster to collapse a studio. That type of risk is something that sends shivers down the spine of tinseltown.

As this year’s Sundance concludes, let’s take a look at what happened: streaming sites Netflix and Amazon eclipsed the traditional Hollywood distributors. While this year’s Sundance did see the largest sale in its history, and a studio made the sale—Fox Searchlight bought “Birth of a Nation”—most of the movies were bought by these internet tech giants. The welcome side effect of these alternative buyers opening their big wallets was that they drove up the bidding for the movies in general. If the erstwhile generation of Hollywood distributors wanted a piece of this year’s pie, they had to push their way to the front of the line at the bakery.

Sundance-2016

Each year, I’m somewhat baffled as to why Hollywood becomes, more or less, a ghost town during Sundance. I’m constantly cautioned by colleagues to not pitch anything, take any projects out, etc., throughout the duration of Sundance, presumably because everyone’s there—in body, or at least in mind. If Hollywood cares so much about the indie films at Sundance, why do they care so little about releasing and marketing them? Perhaps it’s just a chance to party and pretend like they care. Harvey Weinstein criticized the establishment’s release model in his recent Op-Ed in The Hollywood Reporter: “We need to support independent film distribution (and, in turn, independent film culture) 12 months a year, not just the last four.” What is so clearly different this year is that it seems like the new kids in town do care about releasing and marketing these films. This leads us to pose the question: If the studios, and traditional models of distribution, are the establishment, are Netflix and Amazon the anti-establishment? As opposed to the current studio mindset of making essentially one type of movie, for a gigantic demographic, it’s in the best interest of Netflix and Amazon to provide their subscribers with an array of material on their menu. Subscribers are in control of their content, that’s why they subscribe, and the more options, the more control they have to dial in a movie that matches their specific taste. The studios operate in the world of the indistinguishable; Netflix and Amazon operate in the world of the specific—and this is good news for indie film and its middle class filmmakers.

netflix-logo

The trouble, of course, is that we are assessing this change in real time. We don’t know if Netflix and Amazon will see their bets on these Sundance films pay off. Are they looking to gain more subscribers, or simply keep the ones they have? How will they judge the success of these films, and furthermore, how will the industry judge the success of these films with respect to the filmmakers?

Netflix reportedly offered 20 million for the slave rebellion drama, “Birth of a Nation;” however, the filmmakers opted for a studio’s $17.5 million dollar offer. Why did a film that’s content is anti-establishment ultimately go with the establishment? Especially an establishment that is currently marred by accusations of racial bias? The reason seems pretty clear: Fox Searchlight can offer a guaranteed, and perhaps stronger, theatrical release timed during awards season. Netflix’s current model for these types of acquisitions is a day-and-date limited theatrical and streaming release (the movie hits big screens and streaming platforms on the same day).

birth-of-a-nation.w1200.h630

While the sales of these films to Netflix and Amazon reflect well on the filmmakers, history has taught us that the ultimate litmus test of their viability as working professionals is how their films perform at the box office. “Me and Earl and the Dying Girl” sold big at Sundance, but it didn’t do well at the box office. When the industry discusses that film, they don’t discuss it in light of its sale, but rather in light of its numbers. It’s all about the bottom line. How will Netflix and Amazon keep track of its numbers? Netflix has stated, quite adamantly, that it does not release its internal numbers to its filmmakers. This lack of transparency will no doubt prove detrimental to its filmmakers who are vying for their next gig—unless these tech giants are offering multi-picture deals to its talent (it wouldn’t be a bad idea, guys). Filmmakers are typically offered their next job based on how many people watched their last film—if that data is unavailable, it could potentially leave the filmmaker in a bit of a lurch.

I’ve always been of the opinion: I want as many people to see my films as possible. The making money part has always been second to that. The good news is that Netflix and Amazon can make that first part a reality—introducing middle class films to their millions of subscribers. The not so good news is, the growth of the filmmakers they showcase, and the route to a sustainable living post-sale, is an unknown.

#MiddleClassFilmmakers

99Percent

It seems my Indiewire piece on “The 99 Percent…In Hollywood” struck a nerve [bit.ly/1XtxL9K]. I think that’s a good thing, both positive and negative responses alike. The point was to start a conversation and the conversation has begun.

ElijahWood-Indiewire-TwitterMost of the response out there has been positive and I can’t thank you enough for the support.

TedHope-IndieWire-Twitter-2

LawrenceODonnell-Indiewire-Twitter

But the reason I wrote it, and titled it “I am the 99 Percent…in Hollywood,” is that this isn’t about me at all. It is about an issue that’s much larger than I am.

Stage32-Indiewire-Twitter

ChelseaLupkin-Indiewire-Twitter

Indiewire-FacebookComments

For the benefit of clarity: I’m speaking on behalf of numerous filmmakers, many I know personally, who share a similar sentiment. I’ve made three features in the past 2 years and have been fortunate to see them all released in a variety of ways. Detour was distributed theatrically and digitally—both domestically and internationally (it just finished a successful theatrical run in Japan)—and Don’t Look Back was sold to Lifetime Movie Network and recently premiered to 1.1 million viewers when it aired.

It took me a while to get here—Detour took over 5 years to make, a process that started before the trend of minimalist, single protagonist, single location films—our development and pre-production predated Buried and 127 Hours, for instance [http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/29/movies/detour-directed-by-william-dickerson.html].

Making a film is in any filmmaker’s grasp, money or no money, and I do agree that’s a powerful, important and hopeful thing; particularly when making your first film.

AlexGibney-Indiewire-Twitter-1

AlexGibney-Indiewire-Twitter-2

I have directed both film and television. The problem is compensation and support is not commensurate to the work in this “middle” space—the current area in which many of us are working.

AlexGibney-Indiewire-Twitter-3

Films are cheaper, and easier, to make, yes; but much more difficult to utilize as a bridge to a living. It’s indeed necessary for new “outside-the-of-box” models to be explored.

TravisStevens-Indiewire-Twitter

This is a tough conversation, but it’s one that not only filmmakers need to have, but the higher ups in Hollywood also need to have.

Are movies simply a pop cultural fad? Are they simply a product? I don’t think so, and if you’ve ever been affected by a movie, you don’t think so either. I believe movies are not only important, but indispensable, to our culture. If you don’t think so, my piece isn’t for you. And that’s perfectly okay. I will continue to advocate for change, for a rebuilding of the middle space of filmmaking because I think the current chasm is doing long-term damage to both the industry and the art form itself.

KimMasters-Indiewire-Twitter

I recently used the film Me and Earl and the Dying Girl as a lens through which to examine the current state of movies. In this particular “indie” film, the story ends with a girl dying. As if to add insult to injury, she dies while watching the movie Thomas Mann’s character Greg has spent the entire film making for her. We are forced to stare at the dying girl as she’s watching the movie, and dying, and we don’t get to see it. We don’t get to see the movie Greg has toiled over, the movie that results in his grades going down the toilet, the movie that may, or may not, be his first and final expression of love and affection for the character of Rachel. We will never know what the movie is about. We will never know, because that’s not what’s important.

What is important is the power that movie has on both Rachel watching it, and Greg having made it, and the power the movie within which that movie is being projected is having on us as we watch it in the theater. Movies have the power to not only move us emotionally, but also provide the shared experience of experiencing that emotion with others—and that experience is nothing short of transcendent.

Greg grows up watching movies with his father, with his friend Earl, and with Rachel. Greg is you and I. Movies have a lasting, meaningful effect on his life as well as ours. As Me and Earl and the Dying Girl shows us, moving pictures are life—they live on after death. They continue to point us into the direction of the people we respect, care for and love the most; they point us into the direction of eras, societies and cultures past. I have no doubt that most people working in the industry will speak of their passion for movies, but if they’re really passionate about them, they’d make more films based on that passion. When movies are made in boardrooms on the basis of demographics, or the desire to sell in other countries, they alienate that portion of the audience that wants to see unique, personal films. Movies are an amalgamation of art and commerce; however, there must be an equal balance between the two for a movie to matter.

EricKohn-Indiewire-Twitter

When it comes down to it, we are all film fans. We, as human beings, are compelled to tell stories; it’s how we make sense of the stories of our own lives. Hollywood, when operating at its best, is one of America’s greatest industries. Please, let’s not take that power for granted.

Let’s keep this conversation going. Follow me on twitter: @WDFilmmaker

Me and Earl and the Dying World of Independent Film

MeAndEar-1

When I first saw Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, I referred to the film as Me and Earl. The choice to shorten the title was a subconscious one, but it was still a choice, and the choice was to avoid the elephant in the room: that a girl is going to die in the movie I’m about to see.

This is a very un-Hollywood thing to do. And the filmmakers say as much in their film, when the main character, Greg, reassures us in the voiceover: “Bear with me, I know you’re bracing to see a sweet girl die; but she doesn’t, she gets better.” Here’s the thing, she doesn’t get better. She dies. You may be mad at me for not issuing some kind of “spoiler alert” prior to me writing that last sentence; but tough, if the title of the movie didn’t spoil the ending for you, my words certainly won’t. The truth is, this is just symptomatic of a larger problem: Hollywood has trained us to anticipate happy endings, and as a result, we become infuriated if we aren’t rewarded with them (this type of fury is few and far between, because movies made inside and outside of Hollywood these days rarely end on a low note). I’m a firm believer that good movies should be metaphors for our own realities. Yes, this is a movie about filmmakers dealing with a cancer growing in the blood of their friend; however, not discounting the seriousness of the plot, this film is also about filmmakers—and by extension, the audience—dealing with a dilemma growing in the heart of Hollywood.

The film opens with these two kids, Greg (the narrator) and Earl, his co-worker, “not his friend,” which he, ironically, goes out of his way to say. These two might seem like they’re obsessed with movies, but they don’t really act like it. It’s more like movies are just a part of their lives—an indispensible part. The movies they watch inform their views of the world. One of the first movies we see them watching in the film is Herzog’s Aguirre, the Wrath of God, which is about “the search for a golden city that doesn’t exist.” It’s no coincidence that the filmmakers use the plot of a movie within a movie as an analogy to the lure of Hollywood. Many have likened the selling of a script, or the booking of a role, to the modern day gold rush—a rush to become the next big thing.

me-and-earl-and-the-dying-girl

Greg and Earl are friends with the outsiders, if friends with anyone else at all, which leads to the befriending of Rachel, the girl who’s dying from leukemia. They are the true independents, finding their way through the world outside of the system—namely, high school—by making movies as a means to coping with the often turbulent and, literally, life-threatening task of growing up in this relentless world. In this world—the world of reality and not of Hollywood movies—the hot girls squash you, your friends (excuse me, co-workers) punch you in the stomach, and people close to you die out of nowhere. It’s called life, and movies help us deal with it—movies are human antidotes to woe, when they’re made by artists, that is.

The influence of pop culture surrounds these characters: it is a wall-tacked picture of Hugh Jackman, after all, who tells Greg to stop being insensitive and not joke about death with a dying girl. Moments like this achieve two things: 1. They highlight the significant role that Hollywood plays in our lives on a daily basis, particularly the lives of our youth; 2. They emphasize the fact that Hollywood gets it wrong. Are we to ignore the elephant in the room? Are we to repress our feelings, only to let them eat us alive from the inside out? Humor, often black humor, is the life preserver in a choppy sea of sorrow, misery and the hardened indifference of the natural world. Hollywood makes its living—a very, very good living—sugarcoating this reality.

Through his narration, Greg telegraphs the beats that Hollywood often mandates in its films; specifically, that the girl doesn’t die at the end. If this had been a Hollywood movie, not only would this girl make a miraculous recovery, but Greg and Rachel would’ve also fallen in love, and it would be that love, that B-Story, which leads to her survival. Love conquers all, triumph of the human spirit, buddy stories; are these phrases applicable to your own lives? I would say, mostly, no. I know some, particularly those in this business, who argue that viewers want an escape from their lives; they are willing to pay for that escape, and Hollywood exists to provide that escape. I would argue that that tentpole mentality is just as myopic as most of the industry’s output of megabudget blockbusters.

It used to be what separated studio films from indie films was the ending: studio films ended happily, independent films ended bleakly, at worst, or ambiguously, at best. There was a time, not that long ago, when studios funded these “independent” films with depressing-ish endings. Not so anymore; not even close. Fifteen years ago, Walt Disney Pictures produced a David Lynch movie to the tune of 10 million dollars—a movie about an elderly man who embarks on a journey across state lines by way of a tractor to see his brother before he dies. As the millennium advanced, studios continued to fund independent films, but they began to not-so-subtly guide these films into mainstream territory. Take Lars and the Real Girl as an example. With a budget of 12 million, the movie explores the life of a delusional young man who dates a sex doll he procured from the Internet. This is a great indie idea; however, the film embraced a tone much more reminiscent of mainstream studio fare: it wasn’t stark, it was sentimental; it wasn’t edgy, it was wholesome. It was executed as though it was the sister to Sleepless in Seattle. Lars is an example of a number of “indies” that adopted a mainstream tone as a means of, in my opinion, attracting larger, broader audiences to more niche material. Ultimately, the movie didn’t do well at the box office. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s because the movie’s tone conflicted with itself; it didn’t quite know what it wanted to be.

Fast-forward ten years later and that independent film production and distribution model that existed within the studio system—the system within which Lars was made—has completely disappeared. There are only megabudgets (movies made for 150 million dollars and up) and microbudgets (movies made for under a million, often far under a million). There’s nothing in between. Barely nothing. Even the movies that make it through no man’s land—the movies made between 5 to 20 million—are largely anomalies (i.e. movies by a handful of auteur directors, like the Andersons—Wes and Paul Thomas—who cemented their careers when indies were being regularly funded). The ones that do make it through still largely operate with mainstream mechanics. Whiplash, the kid becomes a veritable superhero in the end and conquers all with an astonishing drum solo; Boyhood, despite the odds and a series of questionable father figures, the kid has the whole world in front of him (it ends with him staring into a horizon); Birdman, the film ends with the onstage suicide of its main character (but, wait, maybe not? In a moment of magical realism, he wakes up in the hospital, injured, but optimistic, so much so, he opens the window, jumps out and flies into the great blue sky). I liked all of these films quite a bit, actually; but it does appear as though they’ve been influenced by Hollywood’s expectations.

What is refreshing about Me and Earl, which won both the Grand Jury Prize and Audience Award at the 2015 Sundance Film Festival, is that the movie itself flies in the face of Hollywood and its expectations. While some have criticized the film for characters that border on caricatures—the alcoholic single mother, the quasi-magical black friend, and the girl who dies to teach the self-absorbed protagonist a lesson—it’s a film that is aware of itself with respect to the movies that have come before it, and these characterizations are part of its point. Greg’s narration misleads viewers into believing they are sitting back and watching a movie that adheres to Hollywood’s rules, which guarantees a happy ending that will continue to resonate its happiness on the walk to the parking lot.

In the end of Me and Earl—excuse me, The Dying Girl—there is, well, there is a girl that dies. An innocent one, who never did anything bad to anybody. As if to add insult to injury, she dies while watching the movie Greg has spent the entire film making for her. On top of that, we are forced to stare at the dying girl as she’s watching the movie, and dying, and we don’t get to see it. We don’t get to see the movie Greg has toiled over, the movie that results in his grades going down the toilet, the movie that may, or may not, be his first and final expression of love and affection for Rachel. We will never know what the movie is about. We will never know, because that’s not what’s important. What’s important is the power that movie has on both Rachel watching it, and Greg having made it, and the power the movie within which that movie is being projected is having on us as we watch it in the theater. Movies have the power to not only move us emotionally, but also provide the shared experience of experiencing that emotion with others—and that experience is nothing short of transcendent.

Me_and_Earl_and_the_Dying_Girl_2015_720p_WEB_DL

Greg grows up watching movies with his father, with Earl, and with Rachel. Greg is you and I. Movies have a lasting, meaningful effect on his life as well as ours, and that effect demands that we as the audience are not lied to. As The Dying Girl shows us, moving pictures are life—they live on after death. They continue to point us into the direction of the people we respect, care for and love the most; they point us into the direction of eras, societies and cultures past; they point us toward the origin, the end and the rebirth of ourselves. I have no doubt that most people working in the system will speak of their passion for movies, but if they’re really passionate about them, they’d make more films like The Dying Girl. When movies are made in boardrooms on the basis of demographics, or the desire to sell in other countries, they alienate that portion of the audience that wants to see unique, personal films. Movies are an amalgamation of art and commerce; however, there must be an equal balance between the two for a movie to matter.

When it comes down to it, we are all film fans. We, as human beings, are compelled to tell stories; it’s how we make sense of the stories of our own lives. Hollywood, when operating at its best, is one of America’s greatest industries. Please, let’s not take that power for granted.

THE MICROBUDGET REVOLUTION

IMG_2725Did anyone notice that the movies nominated this year by The Independent Spirit Awards for Best Feature were the same movies nominated by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences for Best Feature, with the exception of one film, Love Is Strange? If the Academy Awards were created as a platform to showcase commercial Hollywood’s best and brightest, why were the Independent Spirit Awards created? Presumably they were created as the antithesis of the Academy Awards: a platform for independent Hollywood’s best and brightest.

Financially speaking, The Independent Spirit Awards deem an “indie” to be a movie made for under 20 million dollars, but if that 20 million dollar budget is coming from the same studio that made millions of dollars from the latest superhero franchise, is the film in question still capturing that “indie spirit?”

Let’s step back for a minute. 10 to 15 years ago, the studios had their own independent film divisions. They considered independent film a viable product for niche markets of film consumers, so much so that they were willing to blur the idea of what an “indie film” was in order to have a piece of the pie. Today, virtually every studio has dissolved those divisions. They are officially not in the independent film business any longer. This means the independent film is now quite literally independent of studio support. So, why then is an awards show dedicated to independent film, presenting the majority of its awards to films that are not technically independent? Here’s how the Independent Spirit Awards define the rubric of an independent film: “uniqueness of vision, original, provocative subject matter, and an economy of means (with particular attention paid to total production cost and individual compensation).”

If the studios aren’t funding lower budget, character-driven, niche films anymore, those who are funding them are most definitely not funding them to the tune of 20 million dollars. The days of the 5 to 20 million dollar independent film are over, and have been over for a few years. I’m not saying films aren’t funded inside those numbers currently, but they are very few and far between—so much so, that it is foolish to focus your sights as a filmmaker on making a movie within that range.

If independent film as we know it is dead—at least in the current state of the industry—what is left? What’s left are: studio blockbusters (i.e. movies made for 150 million dollars and up) and microbudget films (i.e. movies made for 1 million dollars and under, and more often far under). The number of studio films made this past year has shrunk by nearly half, while the amount of microbudget films has nearly doubled. The studios are making fewer movies and putting much more money into them. They’re taking huge gambles financially, and the way to offset that gamble is to ensure that the entertainment they’re selling appeals to as many people as possible. This approach, of course, dilutes the originality of the content. When movies are made in boardrooms on the basis of demographics, they alienate that portion of the audience that wants to see unique, personal films. In other words, they alienate the actual film fans. Instead of making ten films that target different, more niche markets, they make one movie for the price of ten and bet it all.

The truth is that independent film is far from dead. In fact, it’s thriving like never before thanks to the technological resources at the disposal of hungry, young filmmakers these days. They are overwhelming and strikingly affordable. Behold the microbudget feature. Anyone with the right stuff can make a movie these days with production values that were simply unattainable just a few years ago. The stigma that was once attached to movies with budgets this low is no longer there—one can make a movie for peanuts and make it look like a million bucks. The barriers to making a feature film, and consequently announcing yourself as a filmmaker in this industry, have never been easier to overcome.

While this is encouraging, no doubt, this has lead to a surplus of low-budget films living out there in the world. For the consumer, there’s a deluge of movies to choose from, many of which have little-to-nothing in the way of traditional marketing. And, while the filmmakers’ methods of directing and producing films have changed, the industry’s method of buying and distributing them has, essentially, remained the same. This has lead to a business model for microbudget filmmakers that precludes them from making a living wage from their films. Ted Hope recently stated, “Filmmaking is not currently a sustainable occupation for any but the very rare.” There are approximately 141,000,000 jobs in the United States; approximately 100,000 of them are film directing jobs. Working directors make up about .0709 percent of the workforce. If more and more of the movies being made are microbudgets, that means a director’s salary is accordingly micro, if they have a salary at all. Therefore, the potential payoff rests on the distribution of the film, but getting your film distributed through the conventional channels may not lead to much of a payoff for the filmmaker.

The good news is that do-it-yourself distribution has not only gotten easier, but it’s quickly becoming an accepted practice. If the filmmakers are in charge of promoting their own films, why let a traditional distributor profit from your hard work when you can distribute yourself digitally through an assortment of online outlets and recoup the profits directly? This is an important question to ask if you’re planning on raising money for your own microbudget. DIY has never been easier, or more professional looking, as it is right now.

Yes, the market is more competitive—everyone with an iPhone can, technically, make a movie. And now that studios aren’t funding indies, you have major creative forces in the entertainment industry turning to microbudgets themselves: M. Night Shyamalan is making a microbudget, Spike Lee raised the money for his last movie on Kickstarter, and Mark Duplass just produced a feature film shot entirely on an iPhone. However, this is what’s important to remember: what matters is the value of the idea—of the story—not the money it took to bring that idea to the screen. That’s what art is. Art is valued by the painting within the golden frame, not the golden frame itself.

DETOUR-CrewPhotoAs I wrote in my book, DETOUR: Hollywood, “In the end, our purpose as filmmakers is akin to the purpose of the railroad, an apt metaphor that never ceases to disappoint in times of crisscrossing articulations: we are just human beings trying to connect…and it is story that connects us.” My advice: make your movie. But be sure to make it using your own unique voice. Be bold, don’t try to fit in, and maybe, just maybe, Hollywood will take notice.

***

DETOUR: Hollywood: How To Direct a Microbudget Film (or any film, for that matter) is available in Paperback and Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/DETOUR-Hollywood-Direct-Microbudget-matter/dp/0985188634

Why “Whiplash” Won an Oscar for Best Editing

whiplash (n):
1. the lash of a whip.
2. an abrupt snapping motion or change of direction resembling the lash of a whip.
3. a neck injury caused by a sudden jerking backward, forward, or both, of the head: Whiplash resulted when their car was struck from behind.

000036.2771.Whiplash_still1_JKSimmons_.JPG

“Whiplash,” written and directed by Damien Chazelle and edited by Tom Cross, was a hit at Sundance and most recently made a splash at the 87th Academy Awards with 5 nominations and 3 wins — one of those wins going to Tom Cross for editing the film. Filmmaking is an organic process: the film is a beast you’re trying to domesticate by taking it out of the page and placing it onto the screen. The idea dies many deaths: first when it is committed to paper; then when it is filmed; then once again when it is edited. I believe it was Bresson who used this metaphor. Each step is, in itself, a rewrite. The editing process, in many ways, is the final rewrite of the film. And it could make or break it before the light of the projector brings the idea back to life again.

If these are the three core parts of filmmaking, writing (pre-production), directing (production) and editing (post-production), one might argue that the role of the editor is equally important as the role of the writer and the role of the director. Editing isn’t just snipping the footage and glueing one shot together with the next; however, if done right, it should seem like the film wasn’t edited at all. The editing should seem invisible on the surface, but underneath each and every edit should affect our subconscious experience of the film. It should manipulate our emotions and deliver the theme of the movie into our brains without us knowing it — at least upon first viewing.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.20.32 PM

The “theme” is the universal idea that threads its way through a movie. It’s often the lesson we learn at the end of the story. It is critical for the filmmaker to identify the theme before making the film; it’s perhaps the most important thing a filmmaker can do in pre-production. The theme of the film is not the plot (which is usually summarized in the logline), but rather the idea that drives the plot.

What is the theme of “Whiplash?” Let’s let the editing tell us.

The film opens with the sound of snare drum hits under a black screen. It’s a building “march” reminiscent of antiquated military drum corps keeping soldiers in time, except this beat gets faster, faster and faster. As the beat concludes, the first shot is revealed to us. It’s a long shot that dollies through a hallway toward our main character, Andrew Neimann, played by Miles Teller.

He’s playing alone; he’s on his time, no one else’s.

Screen Shot 2015-03-02 at 10.07.06 PM

Until, we are introduced to Dr. Terence Fletcher, played by J.K. Simmons in his Oscar-Winning performance. In a movie that’s filled with precise, and often rapid-fire, editing, the first shot is notable for its wholeness. It only cuts when Fletcher enters the room, and enters Andrew’s life — as far as we can tell, Andrew’s life on screen did not necessitate a single edit…until he met Fletcher. In the first half of the film, Fletcher is in control of Andrew; how do the filmmakers underscore this? Fletcher is also in control of the edit itself.

In the scene in the movie theater, where we are first introduced to Andrew’s passive-to-a-fault father, we listen to their following dialogue:

Father: When you get to be my age, you have perspective.
Son: I don’t want perspective.

Often, in a well-written script, a supporting character will either state, or hint at, the theme of the movie in the first 5 minutes of the film. In this scene, his father does just that. What does Andrew want? One who does not want perspective, wants to live — and see the world — in the moment, in the time he is in now, neither faster or slower, but in time that is his.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.23.00 PM

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.23.30 PM

The insert (or “detail shot”) of sheet music being opened and placed onto the music stand is faster than the actions Andrew performs in his medium close-up profile shot. By a hair. The action from one shot to the next doesn’t quite match –- the “music” is ahead of him. In the following scene, he places a picture of Buddy Rich on the wall in front of the drums, ahead of him –- he aspires to be as good as his idol, but is behind.

After Dr. Fletcher decides to give Andrew a shot, he wakes up at 6:03 on the day of the band’s rehearsal, 3 minutes after he was told to be there. He is behind; in fact, he is even filmed behind-the-time:

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.27.55 PM

However, after rushing to get to the studio, he realizes that he is early — by 3 hours. He was manipulated, leading him, and us, to question: should he trust Fletcher’s version of “time?”

Fletcher walks in at 9:00 am precisely as the second hand hits the number 12. His footsteps are noticeable, the clacks against the floor evenly timed. After Fletcher boosts Andrew’s morale, telling him that he’s “here for a reason,” Andrew re-enters the rehearsal space in slow-motion. He gets behind the drums, also shot in slow-motion, until Fletcher re-enters the room, which resets the film into normal motion. Fletcher has intentionally relaxed Andrew, setting his mind and body into slow-motion, before entering the room himself and bringing the student up to his speed…quickly.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.35.35 PM

“Not my tempo,” Fletcher repeats.

In the scene that won J.K. Simmons his Oscar, Dr. Fletcher tests Andrew’s sense of timing. Is he rushing? Or is he dragging? Rushing, or dragging, or rushing, or dragging? Andrew jumps the cue, rushing it. What is he rushing or dragging?

Andrew promises to be on Fletcher’s time. Fletcher calls him a “rusher.” He is a rusher — his ambition seeks to rush him to greatness — however, his drumming ability is dragging.

Inside of his dorm room, the sound of drumming underscores the scene. As Andrew lets his father’s call go to voicemail, the playing of drums in the future seeps into his present, bringing us into the next scene of him copying the sheet music to “Whiplash” and practicing the drums. The editing says he’s trying to catch-up to himself, to his aspirations.

However, the drumming he performs himself is not in time with the drumming (the double-time swing of the ride cymbal) that plays under the scenes. There’s a perfect tempo in his head that he’s trying to attain; and he’ll shed blood to attain it. It’s interesting to note that while his drumming is off, the editor chooses to place cuts of Andrew placing band-aids on his hand that are in perfect rhythm with the timing of the ride cymbal –-

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.46.14 PM

Andrew’s desire to succeed is in the right time, along with his willingness to sacrifice his physical health, but his talent is not.

The Overbrook Competition: The Midpoint of the film (in screenwriting terms, the point-of-no-return for the main character):

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.50.50 PM

Andrew loses the core drummer’s sheet music (either by accident, or intentionally — the reality of how he lost it is ambiguous) and is forced to take over, since he has the song memorized. He helps his band win the competition and, as a result, becomes their core drummer.

After this moment of triumph for Andrew, this validation of his talent, he endures an awkward dinner with his extended family. Andrew’s announcement that he’s the new core drummer gets upstaged by his cousins, as their mother boasts of their achievements. No one seems to grasp the importance of Andrew’s achievement (at least, the achievement as he sees it in his own mind). As the conversation moves on, Andrew doesn’t: the camera remains on him, just as his mind remains on his accomplishment, an accomplishment no one seems to understand.

He interrupts his family’s conversation: “It’s Division 3,” belittling his cousin’s accomplishment. He finally gets everyone’s attention with his blunt and impolite manners. Once he does, every single line and physical reaction that Andrew delivers is cut to immediately before he delivers it. The timing is perfect — it’s his timing — and everyone else is following his tempo. The supporting characters deliver their lines back at him as though they’re hitting tennis balls back at him.

Andrew is controlling the conversation, and the editing emphasizes that.

After the Midpoint of the film, Fletcher is well aware of his student’s point-of-no-return, his commitment to this band, and he exploits it. He begins pushing him to the limit by bringing in a new player. With regard to the blocking, the scene starts with Fletcher sitting and Andrew standing — higher than Fletcher — and ends with Andrew sitting behind the drums — lower than Fletcher — which is emphasized in a high angle shot over Fletcher’s shoulder.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.54.46 PM

Dr. Fletcher has reasserted his control over Andrew.

Screen Shot 2015-03-03 at 2.26.08 PM

Following this scene, is the second (and “last”) date with his girlfriend (it is important to note that this is the first time we’ve seen them together since their first date).

Andrew is breaking up with her, before it feels to us he’s even really gone out with her. He describes their future; how he must dedicate himself to his drumming, and he articulates how he’ll eventually come to resent her for wanting to spend more and more time with him. Therefore, his conclusion is that they should preemptively break it off before any of this terrible, and inevitable, stuff happens. He delivers his lines extremely quickly — he’s rushing it — warning her that they’ll end up hating each other when she eventually asks him to quit the drums.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.57.48 PM

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.57.19 PM

The entire B-Story (often the love story) of the film has been relegated to two scenes: the beginning of their relationship, and the end of their relationship. Both Andrew, and the filmmakers, have skipped over their entire courtship. Sometimes the moments left off the screen are just as, if not more important, than the scenes shown on the screen.

The couple’s time together is not in the same timeline as Andrew’s pursuit of drumming, his quest to become one of the greats.

Mirroring the montage sequence at the beginning of the film, music prelaps this scene between him and his girlfriend, leading us into the next scene of Andrew practicing. However, unlike before, the music consists only of bass and strings, no drums. Andrew is providing the only sounds of drumming —

He is starting to define his own rhythm.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.59.12 PM

During the brutal rotation of drummers, Andrew finally gets his tempo, he finally nails it. Fletcher keeps yelling at him: “Faster, faster, faster…” as he destroys the drums and equipment around him, while Andrew destroys his hands. “Keep playing, keep playing…Don’t stop!”

Andrew earns the part; and after being wound up faster, faster, faster, he walks away from rehearsal in slow-motion.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 5.59.31 PM

The Dunellen Competition: The bus that Andrew is riding on breaks down. While rushing to find an alternative form of transportation, he rents a car and inadvertently leaves his drumsticks behind. In an attempt to retrieve the sticks and get back in time for the competition, he recklessly speeds through an intersection and gets into a horrific accident. Why? Well, because he’s rushing. In this sequence, the cuts quicken — in rapid-fire succession — arriving at the images before Andrew does (they’re one step ahead of him).

HE IS LATE; he knows it, and we know it.

He is trying to catch-up with Fletcher’s time, with the time of potential greatness. When the accident occurs, time is literally turned upside-down — as conveyed by the clock being upside-down in the frame:

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.00.59 PM

The effect, of course, is that it looks as though time is counting backwards.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.01.17 PM

Andrew’s progress has gone backwards, in one moment of hubris and thoughtless behavior.

[We are about to get into some major spoiler territory, so I caution reading forward if you haven’t seen the film.]

After fighting Fletcher, both physically and legally, which ultimately leads to his teacher’s dismissal from Shaffer Conservatory, Andrew attempts to live a normal life — which is a life without drumming. He works a job, he watches movies with his Dad again; however, when we see him walking in the street eating a slice of pizza, he still hears the siren call of the drums. He can’t escape it. The sounds of a street musician beating on buckets catches his, and our, attention, and operates as an act of The Fates — it leads him around the corner to the very nightclub where Terence Fletcher is playing.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.03.38 PM

It’s as though Andrew’s life lacks music, lacks its “fix,” without Fletcher, the “pusher.”

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.03.52 PM

In the club, the two men share a conversation: Fletcher explains that he was teaching at Shaffer to “push people beyond what’s expected of them.” It’s an absolute necessity; otherwise, he’d be depriving the world of the next great musician. The two decide to leave the past to the past, which results in Andrew deciding to play in his band once again.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.04.48 PM

At the climactic JVC Jazz Concert, the show starts with a new tune: “Upswinging.”

However, and this is the biggest “however” of the movie, Andrew soon realizes he’s been tricked by Fletcher: he doesn’t know the song, nor has he been provided with the sheet music for it. As the song kicks in, and the other musicians play their parts, he has to keep up…or not…and start his own beat.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.06.43 PM

Andrew crumples at the challenge, unable to play anything; in fact, he plays his worst drumming in the entire film at this climactic moment — a moment that Fletcher cautions the musicians earlier can either make or break a career.

After Andrew is humiliated, bringing the rendition to a resounding halt and retreating from the stage, he decides to do a 180 and walk right back out there. He gets behind the drums, undermines Fletcher’s authority as conductor and begins his own rhythm. He establishes his own tempo, which the editor, Tom Cross, punctuates by jump-cutting 3 successive times, getting closer and closer to Andrew, closer and closer to the rhythm he has created for Fletcher, for the musicians, and for everyone watching and listening (in the concert hall and in the movie theater).

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.07.34 PM

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.07.44 PM

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.07.54 PM

Andrew is now in complete command of the camera and editing — just as he’s controlling Fletcher and every other musician on that stage, his performance is controlling the filmmakers.

In a movie crafted with such precise thought and motivation, this is the perfect ending:

All of Chazelle’s and Cross’s filmmaking tools have been usurped by Andrew behind the drums. We are all in his time, and the viewer must watch and listen according to his time from this point forward. The film does not cut before or after moments; it cuts ON THE TIME. ON ANDREW’S TIME. When the camera whips back and forth between Andrew and Fletcher, the movie fulfills the promise of its premise: Andrew and Fletcher become in sync; they find the same tempo; the camera moves suggest equilibrium and equality between these two characters. It’s notable, to say the least, that in a movie called “Whiplash,” Chazelle and Cross reserve use of the “whip pan” until the very end of the film.

When the song “Caravan” is finally over, Andrew keeps playing — he does not relinquish control of the stage back over to Fletcher. When Fletcher leans over Andrew and asks “What are you doing, man?” Andrew says, “I’ll cue you.”

Andrew is running the show; he has caught greatness; greatness is control of him and it’s best that both of them step out of the way and let it play out –-

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.12.26 PM

The music drops out, time slows down…or does it speed up?

Cross presents us with a mixture of slow-motion and fast-motion shots, mostly extreme close-ups of bits and pieces of movements, limbs, drum equipment — i.e. not the whole picture, pieces of the picture. Time and space do not matter anymore because Andrew is finally, and fully, existing in the moment. He has achieved what he has been chasing after this entire time, what Fletcher has been pushing him to become: he has become a vehicle for greatness and is letting what is destined to be play out in real time in front of the audience.

At the end of his solo, Andrew looks up at his teacher, and for the first time, when it cuts to Fletcher’s eyes, he is shot in slow-motion as he watches his student, nodding in approval of his apprentice’s performance. When it cuts back to Andrew, he is shot at a normal frame rate (or a rate that is not noticeably as slow), but when we cut back to Fletcher, his coverage is still in slow-motion —

Andrew has now defined Fletcher’s tempo.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.12.51 PM

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.13.01 PM

The world of the film, which was once Fletcher’s tempo, now exists within Andrew’s tempo.

Screen Shot 2015-02-25 at 6.13.20 PM

Andrew has finally caught up to himself — he’s found his time, he’s found his rhythm in this world, and it is entirely unique, entirely his own, and not determined by anyone else. In a sense, he’s back to the beginning, in that first shot before Fletcher stepped into his life: he’s playing alone; he’s on his time, no one else’s. But, now he is great. And to become great, he ultimately had to reach inside himself and find that greatness.

We all must aspire to find our own time, our own rhythm, inside of ourselves: that is the theme of “Whiplash.”

The effect that Fletcher (and the Fletchers in our own lives, should we be either cursed or blessed to have one in our lives) had on Andrew accomplishing his goal (and have on us accomplishing ours) is a question for the cinematic ages.

For more on the importance of “theme” in filmmaking, take a look at my book, DETOUR: Hollywood: How To Direct a Microbudget Film (or any film, for that matter):

www.amazon.com/DETOUR-Hollywood-Direct-Microbudget-matter/dp/0985188634

Behind-The-Scenes: The Release of “Don’t Look Back”

Over the past few months, I’ve experienced the incredible rollout of my latest film, “Don’t Look Back.”

The movie was initially released on Video On Demand and then had its domestic television debut in October on Lifetime Movie Network. On the night of its debut, it drew over 1.1 million viewers. It was an amazing experience. I even dabbled in a live tweeting session with two of the film’s cast members, Lucy Griffiths and Tyler Jacob Moore, during the broadcast.

DLB-Tweeting

I didn’t get nearly as many questions from fans as the two stars sitting next to me…but I did get some!

What was really cool about the experience was tweeting behind-the-scenes pics and info while those very scenes played out on the television in front of me. I’ve gotten some great feedback on the site, specifically, how I talk behind-the-scenes details and provide a glimpse into my directing process. Here’s a portion of a recent comment: “As an audience member, you do wonder what the director, writer and actors went through during the creative process and this is a wonderful resource for that. It is always interesting to know when shots and frames don’t just ‘happen’ but were planned to add more to the story than the action and dialogue.” I’m really glad to hear it.

MovieMaker-DLB-Eddie-WithViewfinder

The craft of directing can often seem intangible, or at times mysterious, and I take every element of the process extremely seriously. A recent article I wrote on directing a scene in “Don’t Look Back” was published in MovieMaker Magazine. Here’s a link where you can check it out:

http://www.moviemaker.com/archives/series/how_they_did_it/inserting-cuts-oner-dont-look-back/

In these days of microbudget films, with limited time and resources, you have to be as prepared as possible before you begin production in order to call audibles and change things up later on down the line. In fact, I’ve written a book all about the process of directing my first feature film, “Detour,” which is slated to be published early next year. So…keep an eye out for it!

In the case of “Don’t Look Back,” I was fortunate to have wonderful producers, and terrific cast and crew members, who supported my vision and helped me finish the film in the best possible manner!

 

DON’T LOOK BACK: The Pieces of the Puzzle

I’m a big fan of mystery. Where there’s a mystery, there’s a puzzle to be solved. And with any mystery comes clues. “Don’t Look Back” is no exception. You might catch clues on the first viewing of the film, but you’ll likely catch more on the second. In the spirit of celebrating the mystery of the movie, while simultaneously deconstructing it, here are some clues to enhance your viewing experience of the movie.

CM Capture 1

Remember, if you look hard enough, you will find the answers:

1. Triangles.

CM Triangle

Triangular shapes — in the production design, shot compositions and blocking of the actors — appear in critical moments of the film. The house Nora inherits, an A-frame structure, is itself a triangle. The shape of the house reflects the shape of the characters’ journey throughout the entire movie:

A-Frame-2

If the two characters are the sides of the house: where do they start, where do they meet and where do they split?

2. Green and Purple are complimentary colors.

complementary-color-wheelWho’s wearing green and who’s wearing purple? When are they wearing these specific colors? Do the colors ever switch characters?

3. Pay close attention to what is shown in mirrors.

CM Capture 6

 

CM Capture 7

 

CM Capture 14

4. The Sputnik.

The Sputnik is a medium format twin lens reflex stereo camera introduced around 1955. It was developed and manufactured in Russia. Using 120mm film, the camera provides six 6×6 pairs (or twelve single images). As Peyton says: “It has two lenses. When I release the shutter, it takes two photographs of the same subject, simultaneously; but because the lenses are apart just so, each picture is slightly different.” Which replicates the way we see, with our eyes apart ‘just so.’

CM Capture 10When Peyton looks through the viewfinder, the image is reversed:

CM Capture 9

We see through the viewfinder several times in the film. Think about the one time we see through the viewfinder and the image is not reversed.

CM Capture 23

Who is holding the camera?

5. The Split-Diopter Lens.

Split-Diopter

We incorporate a Split-Diopter Lens to divide the frame between Nora and Peyton. This enables us to have both foreground and background in focus as we execute a split point-of-view.

Nora and Peyton are divided, yet connected on the same plane of focus.

CM Capture 18

Notice how Peyton is first introduced and what the frame looks like when cutting back and forth between Nora and Peyton:

CM Capture 2

 

CM Capture 3

The 180 degree line is intentionally broken, placing both Nora and Peyton on the same side of the frame. This results in our eye remaining in one spot (as opposed to shifting left-to-right-to-left in a traditional shot-reverse-shot) — the characters change, but their position remains one in the same, the blur of the Split-Diopter the only thing dividing them.

6. What is Nora wearing on her date with Jack? How is she wearing her hair?

NoraJackDate

7. Nora’s childhood bedroom.

Nora-Bedroom

Her bedroom — the room that Peyton rents — was the site of her abuse. The scene of the crime. And it literally hangs over the rest of the house. What kind of memories hang over the rest inside a troubled mind?

8. Lithium.

CM Capture 27

Prolonged mood disorders are very serious, and the last line of defense is often “Lithium.” Prescribing Lithium is an indication that a patient’s mood disorder is not only quite serious, but has been worsening over the years. It is not uncommon for a psychotic break to occur if one were to stop taking their prescribed dosages. What are some of the symptoms that might accompany such a lapse?

9. Pay close attention to the moments in Nora’s life when Peyton shows up.

CM Capture 12

Why does she appear at these moments?

10. Whose eye do we begin the film with and whose eye do we end the film with?

CM Capture 29

At the beginning of the film, the camera enters the popsicle stick house. At the end of the film, the camera exits the real house — the one the popsicle stick version was modeled after.

It’s up to you to put the clues together and discover the answers. It’s perfectly okay to “figure out” some twists and turns while watching the film, or to not fully grasp them until long after you’ve finished watching the film. The point of the movie is to put you, the audience, into the shoes of our main character, Nora, and experience the events in the film as she experiences them, as she sees them unfolding around her.

Now I encourage you to watch the movie…and then look back!:

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/tv-season/dont-look-back/id905543703
Amazon Instant Video: http://www.amazon.com/Dont-Look-Back-Lucy-Griffiths/dp/B00NBD067A
VUDU: http://www.vudu.com/movies/#!content/554110/Dont-Look-Back
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/movies/details/Don_t_Look_Back?id=SXpz_D_TcaI
Vimeo On Demand: https://vimeo.com/ondemand/20579

DON’T LOOK BACK: Television Premiere

DontLookBack-MV-Poster-WTD-Edited-FB-Advert

My latest film, “Don’t Look Back,” will be premiering nationwide on LMN (Lifetime Movie Network), Sunday, October 5th at 8:00pm (with repeat airings to follow):

http://www.mylifetime.com/movies/dont-look-back

I encourage you to tune in! I will be live-tweeting during the broadcast…and I encourage you to join me (@WDFilmmaker) on Twitter using #DontLookBack:

https://twitter.com/WDFilmmaker

The film is also available RIGHT NOW online through these platforms:

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/tv-season/dont-look-back/id905543703
Amazon Instant Video: http://www.amazon.com/Dont-Look-Back-Lucy-Griffiths/dp/B00NBD067A
VUDU: http://www.vudu.com/movies/#!content/554110/Dont-Look-Back
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/movies/details/Don_t_Look_Back?id=SXpz_D_TcaI
Vimeo On Demand: https://vimeo.com/ondemand/20579

If you haven’t seen the trailer, you can watch it here:

Nora Clark is a children’s book writer whose life is at a crossroads. After moving back into the house she inherited from her grandmother, Nora comes to grips with the traumatic memories from her childhood, and takes in an inquisitive, seductive new roommate, Peyton, who is not entirely whom she appears to be. Lucy Griffiths (TRUE BLOOD) and Cassidy Freeman (LONGMIRE) star alongside Tyler Jacob Moore (SHAMELESS), Roddy Piper (THEY LIVE) and Emmy Award Nominee Kate Burton (SCANDAL).

Here are some recent quotes from the press:

“‘Don’t Look Back’ plays on elevating levels of the human mind, and takes the psychological thriller to a sharp peak.” – Movie Pilot

“This is Roddy Piper’s best performance since ‘They Live!'” – Film Pulse

“The moody acumen ‘Don’t Look Back’ generates almost bristles with a sense of auteur bravado.” – Paste Magazine.

Please watch and help spread the word! #DontLookBack

Poster Exclusive: “DON’T LOOK BACK!”

As the end of summer approaches, so does the release of my next film: DON’T LOOK BACK.

Here’s an exclusive first look at the poster below:

DONTLOOKBACK-Cabin-Poster-8-22-14-Web

The film is a psychological thriller about Nora Clark (Lucy Griffiths), a prominent children’s book writer, whose life is at a crossroads. After moving back into the house she inherited from her grandmother, Nora comes to grips with the traumatic memories from her childhood, and takes in an inquisitive, seductive new roommate, Peyton (Cassidy Freeman), who is not entirely whom she appears to be…

I was extremely fortunate to work with an amazing cast and crew who are all at the top of their game. Lucy Griffiths (TRUE BLOOD) and Cassidy Freeman (LONGMIRE) star in the film along with Tyler Jacob Moore, Roddy Piper and Kate Burton. Tyler was recently cast in ABC’s ONCE UPON A TIME as Prince Hans, a character you may know from Disney’s blockbuster hit FROZEN:

http://www.cinemablend.com/television/Once-Time-Finds-Its-Prince-Hans-Pabbie-Rock-Troll-66492.html

Kate Burton was just nominated for an Emmy Award for her role as Vice President Sally Langston on the show SCANDAL (Good luck, Kate!). And Roddy Piper – a childhood hero of mine, when I knew him as the infamous “Rowdy” – is perhaps best known in the world of cinema for his iconic role in John Carpenter’s cult classic THEY LIVE.

DON’T LOOK BACK is set to hit iTunes, VUDU and other VOD platforms in the beginning of September.

I will have more info soon, but in the meantime…keep a “lookout” for it!

NORTH BY NORTHWEST

In my metafictional satire, THE MIRROR, a version of myself attempts to help the enigmatic lifestreamer “Taylor” realize his dream of recreating scenes from some of his favorite movies.

As the two dreamers embark on a veritable journey back into cinema’s golden age, they attempt to recreate one of the most thrilling and iconic scenes ever to be projected onto the silver screen: Cary Grant running for his life from a crop-dusting biplane in Hitchcock’s NORTH BY NORTHWEST. As far as I know, this scene has never been recreated in its entirety.

In 2008, Vanity Fair organized a photo shoot that involved Seth Rogan inhabiting the role of Grant as he attempted to escape the wrath of the plane.

NorthByNorthwest-SethRogan

But this was a mere still from a single shot of the scene.

It was not until Taylor — the one, and the only, @TaleOrTaylor — jumped into the middle of the famous scene and became the target of a shot-for-shot (more or less) reboot that it was fully recreated. He endured 3 full passes, the Boeing Stearman biplane missing him by just a few feet. This is the first time this death-defying scene has been authentically reproduced…and with NO computer-generated effects!

We’ve released the full clip of the scene. Check it out here!

As the master, Alfred Hitchcock, himself once said: “The only way to get rid of my fears is to make films about them.” For a lot more cinematic hijinks, you can watch the entire movie on iTunes:

https://itunes.apple.com/us/movie/the-mirror/id797187475

Thanks for watching!

William Dickerson is Stephen Fry proof thanks to caching by WP Super Cache