28 February 2012

The Movie In My Mind



I scrolled through the Academy Awards broadcast today, stopping for the categories that interested me. I always watch the short film and documentary awards, because, for me, they represent the best of moviemaking--the sacrifice and perseverence, the passion and patience to fully realize one's dream. Plus, the winners come onstage and they look like real people. Sure, they're dressed for the occasion, but they have self-styled hair, and flesh that actually conceals their bones.

I was particularly enamored of the short film winners from Northern Ireland. The father, Terry George, was the director of "The Shore," and his daughter, Oorlagh George, the producer. She wore plaits across her crown, pinned up like my mother's childhood hair. The dad was so proud that now he didn't have to wait until his daughter's wedding to extol her talent. She rested her head on his shoulder and giggled before dedicating her award to her mother. It was a charming example of the love and commitment required to bring a film to life.

Filmmaking is a collaborative process, and the shared experience is unifying. When I was first married, I worked on an independent film that shot primarily on the weekends. I had a paying job as an assistant to a young director during the week, and then rolled into twelve hour weekend days shooting around Manhattan. I was the script supervisor and the occasional boom operator. None of the crew was paid, but I dreamed of making films, perhaps as a line producer, so I considered it my big break. The Captain was very supportive, considering the fact that we were newlyweds and rarely saw one another.

The shoot took many months, most of which were miserable. The director was odd, the food was lousy, the hours excessive. By the end I wanted to kill myself just to be released, but I had fallen in love with the crew. I couldn't abandon them. The final day of shooting was a mix of joy and sorrow--true satisfaction in our accomplishment, tempered by the realization that I was saying good-bye to almost everyone in the room.

Writing is a solitary process. My book is a movie in my head, but I am the only one producing it. There is no help with the lighting or the costumes, no script supervisor to remind me what day it is in the narrative. I am the lone filmmaker who must take the images and transcribe them with enough detail to help you see the movie as well. It is not like a normal job where you interact with co-workers every day, and get feedback on your performance. There are no office parties or scandals.

There is no crew.

But, as with the Irish filmmakers, there is fervor and dedication. And there is family. The Captain is still supportive. If I ask, my friends read what I've written and offer their opinions. And, miraculously, I've met a whole slew of encouraging readers who are willing to slog along with me, sharing the highs and lows of my life.

You are my crew, and I love you.

Now go do something that makes you happy.




17 comments:

  1. What a lovely post. I also felt the love and tenderness between the Irish dad and his daughter. Priceless. Also, I'd recently gone to see the film, A Separation. I was so glad it won for best foreign film. So well written, and acted, and so not Hollywood. : )

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    1. Yes-I've read wonderful things about A Separation! I'm going to see if I can rent it through Netflix, although sometimes my multi-plex surprises me with art house fare.

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  2. Reading your posts makes me happy. Two birds, one stone. Boo. Ya.

    I don't watch award shows cause I get annoyed with how much money is spent to celebrate these marvelous things. It's not that I don't consider the arts essential-I certainly do as a matter of fact-I just think we could do the marveling on a smaller budget. So instead, I just look at the pictures of the pretty people in some gossip magazine. Yeah, that's a good use of my money. :) But now I have to go look this up.

    You're Fantastic!

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    1. Likewise!

      I don't mind the glitz. The advertisers and Hollywood are spending the money, and I figure they employ a lot of people to pull off the show. Except they need a new sound guy-boy, was it tinny!

      What I hate more is the parade of altered bodies and faces, which is why I was stoked that Octavia Spencer and Meryl Streep won!
      I was also heartened by the fact that my teenage boys found Angelina Jolie's bone-thin body repulsive. Now I hope they go tell all their girl friends the same thing.

      YOU are Fantabulous!

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    2. I don't want them to tell the girls THEY'RE repulsive, just that starvation is repulsive. Just to be clear.

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  3. That was, indeed, a sweet moment.

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    1. Hi Mary! During those moments, I think all dreams can come true--which is why I'm still writing.

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  4. It's only right that the Lone Woman should be the Lone Producer as well--you've proven your mettle wrangling and raising a host of men (yes, five is a HOST to me and i have 26kids in a class). Bravo to you and your novel I cannot wait to read it.

    Today we bury Emily in the rain, she leaves two sons behind. Hug your kids today extra hard.

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  5. See what I miss when I don't watch awards shows? I had no idea about your secret life on the movie sets. It sounds like the most exhausting kind of fun. Now I'm going to have to look up that short.

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    1. Plus, you missed Angelina Jolie's leg, and J-Lo's nipple!

      My life in the movies was just one small step on the very long, circuitous path that has finally brought me where I think I'm meant to be. When I'm done writing the next two books, I may adapt my life. It sounds very exciting on paper.

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    2. I may have missed JLo's nipple, but not Angelina's leg. It has it's own Twitter feed.

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    3. I read that! I think it's hysterical. The funniest part of the night was when she presented the award, and Jim Nash struck the same pose on stage.

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  6. Thanks for the smile. Loved the pictures of your boys too.

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    1. I love the picture of the older guys. It looks so retro to me--the crew cuts, the plaid pajamas, the 3-D glasses. The little boys are wearing the same glasses several years later, to watch Spykids 3D. I can't believe we could actually find the glasses in this house!

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  7. Beautiful post! Not so good with movies or the awards they are given, cool about you and the film making beginnings though. How amamzing is it, the people we were before our names all changed into: MOM?

    And yes, your life DOES look fabulous on paper! I'm with Kate, great pics too.

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    1. My greatest job has been as MOM, but it is fun to look back at everything else I've done!

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