Up-and-coming filmmakers get tips from pros
by Wishelle Banks, Outpost staff
Robert Redford built his Sundance empire nearly two decades
ago, and they are still coming.
The unofficial theme -- the mood -- at the 2000 Sundance Film Festival, held Jan. 20-30 in Park City, Utah, was the palpable unity in a community created by the superstar producer/director/environmentalist who refuses to be remembered merely as an overpaid, pretty-boy actor.
And just when it looks like he might have it made, Redford is restlessly uncontent to rest on his well-earned laurels, preferring to remain progressively cutting-edge -- a man keenly attuned to fostering fresh minds with the resources necessary to make their mark.
Fortunately for the up-and-coming filmmakers, Redford is known for doing far more listening than he does talking. He sees a need, a void, then endeavors to fulfill -- and fill -- it.
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"This Gen-Y Studio is good, because is helps me meet producers and directors and see other kids' works," said 18-year-old Eric Manolito, a Navajo from New Mexico. "And they also have us watching a lot of movies and premieres, showing what it would take to become a filmmaker."
Manolito was thrilled to have "the opportunity to have my own story put into a film. I want to give some of my story away, put it on a film and have it given to the world -- see if they like it or not. That's what I'm here to try and accomplish."
Classmate Migizi Pensoneau, 18, an Anishinaabe Indian from the Red Lake reservation in Minnesota, waxed exuberant.
"I love movies and totally it's always been my dream to make movies," he gushed.
And 16-year-old, Navajo-Dakota storyteller Dallas Goldtooth was excited at the prospect of having hands-on technical work.
"I really have an interest in director of photography, to get into the photography part of filmmaking," Goldtooth said, adding that he hoped the networking he executed at Sundance would bear fruit back at home. "One of the reasons why I like to come here (is) to try to find some sponsors. We really need some equipment. We're short of a lot of stuff. We don't have a program set up for this, for going out into our career, our dream. My culture, my upbringing, my life, what I've seen as a child is what really shaped me as a whole person . . . Just seeing everyone here, talking to these directors and producers -- people who have movies out there right now -- seeing that they're making it and that they never stopped. They talked about not making it, and they said, just keep on continuing. That's what's really inspired me to continue on my dream."
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The institute brought in network, cable and film executives who have the power to transform the microcosmic world of aspiring filmmakers, the mavericks who are hell-bent on seeing their stories told. Panelists included Cleo Wilson from The Playboy Foundation, CNN's Pat Mitchell, Liz Manne of the Sundance Channel, Lauren Lazin from MTV, the National Endowment for the Humanities' Michael Shirley, Alyce Myatt from the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation and HBO's Nancy Abraham.
Wide-eyed aspiring non-fiction filmmakers listened intently, entertaining visions of development deals, a win-win situation wherein the producers offer the "ar-teests" a camera and an attractive amount of money to provide them with further information that will enable the network to decide just whose project to gamble on.
"We support social issue documentaries," Myatt said. "We come in at any stage. We have often been the first money in. We've also (provided) completion funds. Grants range from $10,000-$20,000 up to as much as $350,000-$500,000. It depends, of course, on the nature of the film. We truly believe in the power of documentary films . . . that if we can support the film -- not only in the production aspect, but also in all phases- (like) partner in educational outreach -- it extends the value beyond just something that you've seen on television."
MTV's Lazin suggested that their ideal candidate is a filmmaker who's done their homework. It's not enough to understand the story -- they've got to know who they're trying to sell to.
"The thing to keep in mind whoever you're pitching to," she asserted, "is just watch the channel, see what kind of programming they've done. Try to do a little bit of research. We tend to be a little bit more flexible with the formats and the kinds of documentaries we do. MTV International also acquires docs, so if you have an international topic that may not be right for us, we can put you in touch with the people (there), who work all over the world."
God knows how many down-to-their-last-dollar filmmakers journey to Sundance with the dream that their bright idea, their treatment, their screenplay will be picked up by heavyweights like these, and for many it seems as simple as making the right connection at the right time. When that magical moment occurs, isolated writers can suddenly find themselves being courted by network producers who are ready to invest.
"If we're producing something for HBO, then we can pretty much accommodate whatever budget it needs to be," said Abraham, vice president of original programming in the documentary division. "I'm sure if it involves a lot of international travel and a lot of clip clearances . . . then sometimes we'll look for a co-producer to offset some of those costs. But for the most part, we can handle budgets that are around $500,000 for something on HBO. The acquisition fee varies . . . it sort of ranges between, low-end, $30,000 and goes up from there . . . it all depends."
Additionally, Abraham noted, the cable-TV giant isn't about to fork over big money if the screenwriter can't effectively disseminate their idea onto paper, onto film, onto the audience.
"I get a lot of essays about issues that are just essays," she said. "They're not specific about what's going to be in this film. What will we be watching, and what will be happening in the course of the film, based on the research you've done already, or the access that you've gained? It can help, certainly, to have some video clips of people, or the situation that they're in."
CNN's Mitchell, also on the Sundance Institute's board of trustees, also advised that filmmakers sell themselves, not just their concept.
"You'll think your idea is so unique and distinct, and in fact there may have been already 10 submissions on it that day, so what you need to convince the buyers of is why you? Why you to do this piece? What makes your access, your knowledge, your expertise, your background specifically important to the production and the execution of this work?"
At the heart of indie filmmaking, naturally, is the filmmaker's desire to retain -- from the script to the final edit -- the creative control over the story, a topic of paramount concern. Throughout this lively discussion, the pros reassured the filmmakers that they support a certain amount of autonomy in the storytelling.
"The thing that's sort of a drag about cable," acknowledged Lazin, "is that most of it's pretty much niche marketing, and the person that you're going to be working with is going to know very strongly their audience, and is probably going to give you a lot of creative feedback in how to reach that intended audience. So if you're going to work with a cable company, you're going to need to be open to that. We're very flexible with your voice and how you choose to tell something, but we definitely don't like a lot of "experts" in a social-issue documentary. There's a certain way that we like to give information to our viewers without bringing in all those sort of 'experts.' One great thing about cable -- particularly if you're a filmmaker that's motivated by a topic that you feel really strongly about, that you want to reach a lot of people with -- it's just a great, great way to do it. It's like direct-access."
Mitchell reminded the documentary filmmakers how important that reach is in educating the audience.
"If you're dealing with a social issue," Mitchell said, "and you really care about the outreach, then cable's a great way to go, because all cable systems have a great educational outreach program. The Internet is increasingly an important part of every documentary we do. It's a collaborative process."
Abraham also emphasized collaboration.
"And being a collaborative process," she said, "there'll be times when big issues that you really fight for -- and fight over -- sort of prevail, and there's lots of other things that you don't want to fight every battle. Definitely, the filmmaker has a voice, and certainly [we] want to bring that forward."
These very face-to-face meetings are exactly what Redford had in mind when he created "The House of Docs," the intensive labs at Sundance -- even the institute itself.
Ever a leader and not a follower, the 2000 Sundance Film Festival also debuted the New Media & Technology Center, where nerds and geeks galore gathered to get a sneak-peek at the industry's newest gem: digital filmmaking, "not a replacement for film," according to festival codirectors Gilmore and Guillemet, "but a fully professional format in its own right, one that will be with us into the future."
Posted
March 10, 2000
Copyright 2000, Nevada Outpost
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