the best i have felt in the last several years was standing on top of a dune on the southern oregon coast 2 weekends ago. we wandered up a forested path near our campground w/ no real plan and kept going. soon we could see a gigantic dune in the distance, urging us toward it. a short time later we stood at the bottom of it. we scrambled to the top w/ some effort and took in the impossible vista: ocean to the west, forest to the east, endless dunes north and south. the wind was steady and strong, blue sky, not too hot. the insect-like buzz of motorcycles and dune buggies off in the distance, intermittently coming into sight and then disappearing. a teeming wealth of glorious photo ops but I left my phone and camera back at the campsite. I was pissed at first but all I could do was document it in my mind. the longer i sat there watching there were slow openings: i had been wrestling w/ some concerns for upcoming movie projects and they suddenly felt so minor. everything human is really so gd tiny. I have to hold on to this feeling I thought.
later that day while everyone was back at the campsite I hiked back to dunes w/ camera. the giant dune was too far away for me to make the trek but i took some pix from the top of a younger sister dune. pix were fine but they didn't touch what was in my head. the perfection of it, the power of it. it was a weak facsimile, a bloodless iteration.
contemplating this all a week later I wondered was the magic ingredient was not having my phone w/ me? no ability to check/update, no ability to document the moment w/ photo. no choice but to be present. no way out. if i had been taking pictures I would not have been seeing. but then these are just tiny insect thoughts.
woke up at 5. took shower and got dressed and walked outside just as my ride (ie my dad) was pulling up. There and back in one day so I just had a backpack with my ipad, a magazine, a hard drive containing the movie. Easy breezy through security and to the gate. My eyes fell on mom w/ stroller, 2 kids and all acoutrements and I both knew exactly how she felt and was so glad I wasn't her. Flight landed in Long Beach at 9 ish. Film playing at festival at 12:30 pm. Charged my phone for a bit. bought a sandwich for later and then took cab to Huntington Beach. Cab drive had no idea where I was sending him and I had to enter the address on his phone app.
view from library desk
50 bucks later at the Huntington Beach Public Library. Saw fest signage which was encouraging to me that I was in correct spot. Had 2 or so hours to kill so I headed into the depths of the library to work on latest screenplay. (note: here "work" means alternately writing, checking social media, texting w/ family, battling the rising burn of nerves that joins me every screening and so forth.)
went over to the fountain and ate my sandwich, then headed downstairs to the theater, sort of uncertain about what to expect. As I walked down into the lobby a surreal moment arose when I could hear the tech check in the auditorium, the score (by Jessee Jones) of THE BLACK SEA pouring out of the speakers. In addition to being dark and brooding it happened to line up exactly with my mood, matching my own internal soundtrack.
program
I found festival director Guy Davis and talked shop for a bit, noting the excellent weather, the vagaries of running a festival, and our career paths in the past two decades since we both worked for Barbara Turner and attended AFI as Screenwriting Fellows. As we talked people began streaming in waves for the screening (note: here "waves" means there were 3 people I knew in the audience and oh, less than 10, I did not. Despite the fact that I have many friends in LA and that some cast/crew are in LA I was reminded that OC is not LA so to speak. Also, a weekday early afternoon screen time at a fest can be kiss of death provided your valued metric is number of eyeballs). Most exciting arrival to me was Fred and Rita Sipes b/c they could at last see their son Matt's work in the film.
The film began. I hadn't seen it with an audience since Boise Film Fest in September. Since then the film has left (or slowly dissipated away from) my daily conciousness. This allowed me to watch the film from a more objective vantage, noting sucessful moments and less successful ones with equal alacrity. At the same time aspects of the film's narrative ribbon through my own personal history (speaking more so of my life than the writing/production of the film though that's in there too) so said objectivity quickly was overwhelmed by rising surreal sensations, best described like watching a long-contemplated hall of mirrors in a dream that's been put in a blender and then looked at through the back end of a telescope while really drunk and/or high. You know the feeling. There is a scene toward the end of the film (SPOILER) in an MRI machine and I pondered that in two days I would be tucked inside one myself.
The movie ended and Guy Davis did Q & A. The questions from the crowd were about as robust as the attendees, which is to say sort of minimally engaged. (This kind of thing used to bother me but I always recall seeing Lionel Shriver at Annie Blooms many years ago and no one was there except M and myself and she was alert and gracious anyway. This repeated a couple yrs later when me and M went to see our friend Cheryl read to at a downtown independent bookstore, now a vitamin warehouse i think - to promote her book.) Afterward I did have someone come up to me and ask if my friends were as terrible as the people in the movie. This was funny but made me a little melancholy as there is much more to the film than the surface read, including the sometimes terrible behavior of the people in it. But whatever. This either reflects on the subjective nature of watching movies or my failing as a director or most probable, some parts of each.
I stayed for the next screening Cesium and a Tokyo Girl, which was kind of awesome in an inscrutable way and caught a ride back to the Long Beach airport w/ my friend Clay, who I met at the Stowe Story Lab retreat in May and who has since relocated to Los Angeles. We talked briefly about the peculiarites of Southern California - one of us drawing on living there over a decade ago and the other of recent weeks - and the pursuit of screeenwriting as an enterprise. I went into the airport. Had burrito and beer. Flew home. Met my ride (ie my mom & dad) and went home.
with Rita & Fred Sipes/heading home
Saturday AM I was tucked inside an MRI contemplating watching the film's MRI scene. and so on.
spent a few days in Disneyland last week, staying at the Disney Hotel and going to the park on a two-day pass. difficult to summarize the sensations it provoked. I'd been to Disneyworld 2 times as a kid and to Disneyland many times as a man in my early 20s. Here, as a parent this time, I felt the strange and luminous intersection of past/present, child/parent. I felt some parts of myself surrender seeing it all through new sets of eyes. I felt the ephemeral hum that marketing sometimes calls happiness or magic. Let's instead call it a light, shining forward and backward, illuminating all the good parts (okay, mostly the good parts. there are still lines, there are still un-wonderful people), the best parts. Floating in the pool with my son, looking at the blue sky; riding Splash Mountain with him, a split-second decision; the caves on Tom Sawyer Island, etc were tiny unlockings, tiny steel doors rising in mostly rocky corridors.
This is not exactly a newsflash, but the Disney operation really has their act together, sustaining the illusion on myriad fronts, buy-in from all parties big and little. I did not want to leave. I ached as the bus pulled away and took us.
in the cave, photo by MM
I left wanting to cling to those small moments, protect them and keep them close and readily accessible. There is something instructive and uniformly true inside them but I am unable to fully articulate it at present. But I can feel it.
After my screening ended Saturday AM (which you can read about on the previous post here if you are so inclined) I had the whole day stretched before me with nothing to do but see other films, which if you know me at all is the closest I get to unbridled happiness. Walked up to the Boise Creative Center and saw a short called AND COUNTING and a feature called DEAD RIVER. Dead River was real unique, very deliberate in pace and confident in using long swaths of dialogue to propel the story forward and still managaing to be tense and poignant in parts. I really dug it.
Next film was across town. I followed my sputtering GPS which gave me the general idea and found myself at a place called Cathedral of the Rockies, which I presumed was the cool reverent name for a movie theater but was in fact, a house of worship. Walked in and sat down in the pews, an unfamilar exercise for me, and watched a short film called TO LIVE DELIBERATELY and a feature documentary titled QUEENS OF THE ROLEO about the dead sport of log rolling and how it relates to the women of Lewiston, ID. Learnt during the Q&A that the filmmaker Dave James is of Bend, Oregon extraction.
next up was back to the hotel for nap and sandwiches. met some other filmmakers at mixer and talked shop. Always my favorite part of festivals, aside from watching movies, is meeting other filmmakers and hearing how much their stories cohere or diverge from my own. Afterwards I got in uber and went back to Boise Creative Center to see the shot-in-Portland DEET N BAX SAVE THE WORLD, by the director Diablo Dean, which was memorable for a lot of graphic content and unmotivated nudity and weed. (Also for seeing some Portland talent and locations!) Not exactly the sort of film I seek out or am drawn too but I chose to recall that I was out of the house and unencumbered with kids and that helped me relax and enjoy myself a tiny bit more. (Ready access to beer/s probably would have helped too.) Sometimes I find my own film snobbishness gets in the way. This movie can likely find a robust life in the midnight/cult end of the pool.
Afterward we all headed to a bar called Reef in downtown Boise and I sat with Dave, the log-rolling documentarian, as he won prize for best documentary. Best narrative film went to the Portland-based HOMESKILLET by Phiamma Ellis, which I was eager to see but didn't b/c it screened at the same time as THE BLACK SEA. Between me and Dave Jones and Phiamma and Diablo Dean, Oregon was well represented at the fest.
All conversations effectively ended when a band got onstage so I headed back to the room.
The next morning I was about to eat at the Mariott Breakfast Bar when a fire alarm evacuated the whole hotel. After the all-clear, I headed back up to Ming Studios for a short film series. first up GREENLAND, which was awesome. perfectly pitched.
Then a short doc called CODE OAKLAND which had me weeping inside a few minutes and caused a swell of optimism in me. In it someone says "We live in the world we create" which resonated deeply with me and and has stayed near me since.
Afterward was a feature called RESURRECTING MCGINN(S) also at Ming Studios. I wasn't able to see the whole thing due to a technical snag that caused the film to not play properly. But I did get to see the first 20 min or so and found it compelling and unique.
Since there was a screening nearby at the Idaho Ballet, I walked two blocks over and got there just in time for GHOST OF A CHANCE which has as its claim to fame being an all-IDAHO enterprise, including a couple of staffers I met at the festival who were acting in movie. While clearly hampered by budget limitations there were some really effectively eerie parts and I found it enjoyable. I had to catch a ride to the airport before the screening ended though, so I had to duck out and didn't get to see the film in its entirety, not to mention a couple others that I had to miss.
All told, a pretty great spate and range of films, short and feature and narrative and documentary at this first iteration of the Boise Film Festival. Very much looking forward to future years and seeing how they grow and expand.
Got in late Friday to Boise due to long-delayed plane in Seattle so I missed the opening night screening as well as the meet-greet-alcohol function afterwards. This was a bummer but nothing I could do about it. Ate microwave pad thai from the downstairs snack bar - a grand lapse of judgement but one fueled of limited options and energy - and went to bed.
Woke up. cleaned up, hit the Marriott Breakfast Bar (c) and departed. I had roughly 90 minutes until THE BLACK SEA screened at Ming Studios which was walkable, according to the map. Leaving the hotel parking lot and walking to the main road I discerned yelling and clapping on nearby Capitol Blvd, the main artery in town, a half-marathon/10K/5K in progress. I crossed the Boise River and headed into town and found Ming Studios. Still had time to burn so walked closer in to town and watched the runners.
Arrived back at Ming Studios around 10, w/ 30 minutes before screen time. Just me and 3 staffers inside. I tried to relax and stay present and let all those (by now familiar) pre-screening jitters exist without me paying too much attention to them. Acknowledge and step aside. This was a successful enterprise until I witnessed the tech check - they spot checked the short film playing before me, which looked and sounded fine, and then my film which was stuttering and staggering. Heart thumping I went to talk to them about it. They were aware of it already and a new blu-ray player was being shuttled across town to us. I said worst-case we can stream it from a private link. They concurred and I sat down w/ my interior voice unkindly reminding me to no matter what always bring back up blu-ray and/or hard drive to future film fests and screenings.
After some time elapsed more people wandered in. We held the screening back a little to let the new blu-ray show up but the dude was delayed by the road race. We decided to trudge forth and the short film (an Austrailian thing about death called The Sheriff) played without consequence. We decided to show my film off dvd not blu-ray and it began to play fine for 5 min but then it stuttered and stopped. Panic. We elected to stream it but the wifi was sluggish and slow and after 20 min or so the browser still had 2/3rds of the movie to load so when we attempted to play it it stuttered and lagged. Dread rising, I considered just cancelling the whole affair then and there when the door creaked open and in walked the dude w/ the new unit. Hooked up and film played fine. I stood at the back of the room and watched the entire thing. Finally relaxed into it.
As with all prior screenings, the movie felt different to me than previously, conforming to the context and environment of the moment. There was light bleed from the nearby windowed door, occasional screeching traffic from outside but if I was able to widen my perspective away from my immediate arguably selfish (or at least self-serving) vantage. It was all in a word perfect. I thought it all through the screening, all through the awesome Q & A afterward, I thought to myself I am the luckiest man alive.
10 yrs ago at this writing Margaret and Maxwell (RIP) and myself were headed cross-country in a rented mini-van so we could live in a hotel for 2.5 months while I rec'd proton beam radiation on what remained in my head after two brain surgeries.
Got invited to screen the black sea at the Hoffman Arts Center in Manzanita Beach, Ore on 8/28/15 (as part of the Manzanita Film Series.) Took the day off work on Friday. Still had to take N on the bus to day care to the very building I work in but just for a half day. Back home I did copious straightening and arranging (read: tossing swarms of toys back in the playroom) and packing (read: tossing tshirt into a backpack), went for a run, took the dog for a walk and then it was time to hit the road. M and F and I went to pick up N and we took the 26 out to the coast.
Multiple sensations just doing this drive, charged as it is with the inception/development of the film as well as my recovery after surgery 1 in 2005, as well as production, as well as family trips to Arch Cape etc etc. Funny to drive past house where we shot in AC and head on to Manzanita, also passing tunnel and running trail that appear in the film.
We checked into hotel. I met David. D at the center and we did a quick tech run through. Being in the room I felt a sudden low surge of panic swell up (as I do prior to each screening), my imminent exposure as talentless fraud about to be made public. This feeling dissipated soon after, spending time on the beach with my wife and kids, then roared back at dinner with them and my parents. An all-consuming, shrieking red-alert klaxon, volume rising each minute, FRAUD, FRAUD FRAUD. This makes me a poor conversationalist at dinner.
Later walked to center with my folks. Stood outside with David D for a few minutes prior to screen time. Then lo and behold I was on stage introducing the film, trying to recall M's urging that I shouldn't ever deviate from planned remarks b/c it ends poorly. I said what I planned to say and then deviated and it ended poorly.
At last the lights were down and the film played. The room skewed older than previous screenings which led me to presume it would be off-putting out of the gate but got many more laughs than last screening so my presumption was wrong (which led my dad to later chide me for being ageist.) A woman entered 15 min or so in with a small child in tow which I felt strongly was a bad call given the harsh language and adult scenes (note: not adult like porn adult but adult like some violence and existential dread) but she stayed put.
Q&A afterward was more uncomfortable for me than CGIFF where I had the luxury of a cavernous auditorium and a microphone to hide behind. Here I was on the dais in front of a mixed reception. I don't mind making a film that splits reception but that doesn't mean I want to stand in front of pointed what-the-hell-did-i-just-watch glares. I made some quip about how the ending of the film intrigues half of the viewers and annoys the other half. Instantly half of the room started laughing, the annoyed half one presumes.
The woman with the kid said she and her friend had a complex theory about the film which involved a lot of intuition and filling-in-the-blanks and happened to be not far from the mark, all the more amazing that she arrived at it w/ juggling her kid and missing the first 15 min of the movie. She replied she had a background in criminalogy.
The BT reared its head again (BT = brain tumor) which added to my discomfort. Granted I brought it up but to exclude it when discussing the origin/development of the film seems disengenuous. I can't be objective about film and strip that part of my narrative away for the sake of ease. This is an area to work on for upcoming screenings and Q & A's
Afterward, beers w/ David D and M at the San Dune Pub sitting out back while a surf rock band played inside. A lightning strike and a rumble of thunder signalled time to go and the impending storm due the next AM. It dogged us all the way home.
had outstanding experience last month at Stowe Story Labs retreat. very gratifying to be among similarly-minded writers and filmmakers to exchange screenplays and talk shop as well as to be critiqued (sometimes deeply) by industry professionals in a hard-to-beat locale in May. Had to be apart from the mrs and kids for nearly a week which had its highs and lows obviously. [Waking unencumbered would be an example of the former.] It's difficult to encapsulate how meaningful the whole thing was for me internally and externally (partially b/c it was spread across many days and multiple interactions and partially b/c a lot of it has to do w/ deeply personal self-estimations that span decades) but in short I found it transformative, at once altering my work-flow and putting my pursuits in a different context. Came away feeling energized and reinvigorated
found this writing spot on walk
my script was oblitered by a well-regarded writer moments prior to this photo
flew to SF last week to attend memorial service for M's uncle. Marin sun and sky were warm and blue, a counterpoint to the dark finality of everything surrounding us. Travelling with 2 small children amplified all stress and discord but also small, breathing reminder of the ephemeral nature of this whole ride. a gut-punch coming and going. i didn't know him well but i knew him. enough to feel something large stir as i sat staring at his broad grin frozen on poster-board at the front of the venue, joyous to the end. later in sausalito, boats on the water and tourists with peace sign poses in front of a parkside fountain. I am in a wool suit pushing a stroller, hoping an infant will sleep, the heel of my dress shoe extracting skin and blood. Later that night, watching alcohol shake loose obscured sadness, the true fear and effect of the ultimate pulsing right there under all our manufactured forms, tiny truth pellets falling into a dispenser one at a time.
the next day w/ M's dad, back in Marin again warm and blue, his person and form showing signs of decline, the same but different. we go to a park she went to as a girl; we go to her elementary school pulsing with one-upon-a-time Ms; we drive through rolling hills, find the house where M was a girl 36 eye-blinks ago, the hill she rode her big wheel down. ten seeming minutes from now will i/we tour similar terrain? the morning becomes afternoon and have to leave, to cross the bridge back.
the next day we are w/ dear friend and her son, watching him drive in a run on an elementary school field, feeling the prickled absence of his father, an absence that continues to shadow me, forcing me to confront unanswerable questions. later at their house, the last place i saw him, hugged him, told him 'hang in'. more large things stirring, more gut-punching, continuing as we board the plane, as we return, as we unpack, as we sleep, as we rise, as we go through the motions of daily routine, leading me to a conversation w/ M at the kitchen sink the next night. Why am i perpetually fucked up, why am i 9 parts dark black to 1 part graciousness and blessings instead of the inverse? why does what i dodged continue to extract skin and blood? more unanswerable inquiry. I am exceedingly lucky and I know it but I don't always feel it. I feel the potential result more than the actual. I feel the passing form of the shark that missed me instead of the relative calm blue water i laze in now. when and how will it end?
i'd like to say something here succinct and eloquent about
the importance of travel and the importance of vacation
and the distinction between the two and how we thought
this trip would be one but was really the other but i'm not sure i can. further
i'd like to delineate each day, hour, moment as a means
of capturing what happened, like a firefly in a jar, but what happened
is somewhat irreducible.
suffice to say, words are blunt instruments but here's one: spectacular.
it is strange to be back. daily grind and all.
we attach meaning to such slender things. such ephemera.
we wake up and head to st. germain for breakfast. it's closed. it doesn't open until 11 am and it's currently 9am. we were just here last night but neither of us took note of the opening times. we wander and find la bombinerra cafe which has been recommended to us but when we enter it's nothing like what we were told to expect so we quickly duck out. we wander and find cafe majorca and eat a simple unremarkable breakfast. we buy some dumb souvenirs. they've all been made in china but someone has written "puerto rico" on the side w/ a sharpie as if that cements their authenticity. we wander and find caficultura and have double americanos. we return to the room. we drive the rental car to its home. we take the shuttle to the airport. we step inside.
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