short film: round about

I promised I'd post a link to the film we made, but I'm a little challenged. Please bear with me. My friend posted it on a facebook group, so, if you're on facebook, you'll be able to view it by using this link.

If you aren't on facebook, we'll work on it so you won't be deprived. It should happen after the fest is done.

The rules were: the film had to be from two to 10 minutes long and had to in some way incorporate three elements: lavender, excelsior and squeal. I know. At least 90 percent of the footage had to be filmed during the 24-hour period and the film had to be delivered by 8:15 on Saturday evening to be in the competition. We worked right down to the last moment, including Duke burning the DVD as I drove to Out North. And after all that, our film missed the deadline by... get this... two minutes.

While we weren't in the running, the film was shown and even garnered some laughs and words of appreciation from the audience. Duke was also pleased that it was the penultimate film to show... if only we'd been in the running.

As for the five-day challenge. I just couldn't get into it. I felt a little bad because I started on it, but my heart wasn't in it. I just wasn't feeling the creativity & drive that's needed to do a project like that. And honestly, I'd rather watch films during the fest than spend all my time fretting over whether I'm doing a good job on a short deadline. So, while at first I felt I'd let the team down, in the end it was better to let them work on a great idea they came up with. I'm looking forward to seeing the final product. Excelsior!

the big watch 2010

I think I've recovered from a weekend of watching films. Shorts, animation, documentaries and features. And that's just the first two days of the Anchorage International Film Festival. I'm starting to get into it this year although at first I debated even getting the pass. Jon and I buy passes almost every year and gorge ourselves on 10 days of films. This year I began reading the descriptions and was only drawn into a few titles. It seems my enthusiasm has been lacking lately. But now that the films have started playing, I'm glad I have the pass so I can see as many as I please. If that means staying at the Bear Tooth for seven hours or more, then so be it. After all, there's really no reason to leave the Tooth once you step inside: films, local brew, wine, food. No reason to leave at all.

Now that I've begun the Big Watch, I've put my editor's brain into action. Some of the films, while good, could have used more editing. I remember a writing instructor saying that sometimes as writers we can fall in love with a line or a sentence. We love it so much that even when it doesn't fit into the story we want to keep it, just as we hang onto old clothes thinking one day we can fit into them again. There comes a time you must just look at it, then discard it. It can be hard; that's why we have editors.

At a filmmaking clinic last year, one of the filmmakers stressed the importance of a good editor who is not the director or writer. When an editor is not as closely attached to every one of the clips, it's much easier for them to cut things. Just as with writing, we need an unbiased person to look at our project and be honest about what works. We need to someone to evaluate each passage: does it move the story along or does it cause it to bog down?

Some of the films I saw lacked this kind of editing. I sensed it when the film about jazz musician Vince Guaraldi veered off the main thread of the story into a strand that I hoped would hook back in. There were great quotes and reminiscences from some jazz legends; shots of historical moments to frame the film in a certain time in America. Some of it would be great material for another film, but was not relevant to this story. It made the film drag under the weight of the extraneous clips. It needed an editor to be brutal with the material, yet sensitive to the story.

So, why such a critic?

This year I helped a friend make a film for the 24-hour film contest. It was a pretty loose group; we had little structure. Mostly, we had his idea which we brainstormed to flesh into a story. It took on a life of its own. We filmed that first night, met again in the morning, at which time he almost threw in the towel. Two of us convinced him we were still in it; we would see it through. We filmed some more. Then he sat down to edit. It took a long time (as we'd been warned) but together we were able to cull a story from what seemed like a dozen strands of ideas.

It's dark, it's light. It's funny, it's serious. It's a first attempt. A start. It screens tonight (I'll post a link after the showing). Now I'm asking myself: should I participate in a 5-day contest that begins tonight? I have no clue.

frosty week

On Sunday morning, I went for a bike ride. Fog had coated the trees and grasses, signs and benches. Even the weeks-old snow was covered with a layer of hoarfrost, its crystals standing on end, electrostatically charged. The temperatures for the last week or so were perfect for snow biking, yet I had spent evenings watching films and days getting our house put back together, painting our stairway and generally being a responsible adult.

But all Alaskans know that when conditions are perfect, you have to drop everything and get out. Lucky I finally did, too. Because snow started falling on Monday and now the buff trails are under more than six inches of snow, which will take a few days to get packed down by various trail users, including a few snow bikers no doubt pushing their fat-tired rigs over some sections of trail.

The winter is long and there will be other chances to ride. But getting out while the frost still covered the trees was a treat. I was the only biker out there and didn't run into anyone on the singletracks as I kept myself moving, aware I wanted to attend a workshop in just a few hours. Knowing I needed to do some time in the saddle instead of just a movie theater seat.

Now I expect branches will begin to break under the heavy snow load, unless a big wind comes first, which is unlikely in the next day or so. I'll get out on skis or snowshoes. Catch a bit more of this snowy weather. Remind myself that the only way to get through a winter is to embrace it. Often the embrace is sweetened by an airline ticket to someplace where I can wear tank tops.

After Jon removed the carpet. (He plans to rebuild
the stairs so they're not as steep.)

Paints from the mis-tint bins at various hardware stores.

A little signature from my friend.

I don't know if there'll be a tropical vacation this winter. If not, I'm okay with that. We're moving forward on the house, I have some creative projects in mind and I'm ready to bike, ski, snowshoe or skate. Unlike last year, I have no injuries. It could be a great winter.

conflict and story

Sunday, Dec. 6. At the film fest:

It doesn't necessarily mean there's anything wrong with a movie if I nod off during a matinee. The middle of the afternoon can be a great time to nap, though I'm more of a summer nap-taker than winter. That may seem counter-intuitive as we sink into the shortest days of the year, but I get plenty of sleep at night in the winter, maybe too much; in the summer, not so much with all the staying up late into the daylight evening and getting up relatively early. But I was kind of bummed that I woke up to catch the credits of the first of a pair of docs I went to see.

It was an interesting film about the moose of Denali and the filmmaker's relationship with his moose biologist dad. I was just tired and really needed a coffee. I felt bad that I missed the ending.

I managed to stay awake during the second film of the double-feature: what turned out to be a pretty boring film about people climbing Denali. Really, should a film about climbing the tallest mountain on the continent be boring? I didn't think so, but I wonder if other people had the same reaction I did. What started out as a little introduction of each person in the climbing party and what they hoped to contribute as well as what they planned to get out of it turned into a sort of Denali travelogue. (Camp 1, Camp 2...) Everyone made it safely to the summit and back, which is the goal, of course, but I didn't feel much passion or soul.

I sometimes worry about that in my writing. If nobody gets hurt, can it be a good biking story? If everyone starts and ends a weekend in a remote cabin as friends, does anyone care? Our lives and the fictional lives we see in books and magazines, on television and in movies are filled with conflict and drama. Well, my personal life with Jon is not filled with much drama. Even through the first stage of the remodel we remained relatively sane and calm. The biggest drama here revolves around Jon's serial obsessions with harvesting fungi and berries from the mountains and woods. My coping mechanisms include declining invitations to pick when I know he'll spend all day in a berry patch or bringing an alternative activity: my bike, a book, a notebook. Sometimes, all three.

Don't be mistaken, our lives aren't boring. There just isn't much conflict. Without conflict, where is plot, I wonder, as I try to develop characters or even write a personal essay. Of course, some conflicts are purely within us; the struggle with our own fears and insecurities. We must overcome our own hurdles just to put words on a page. That hurdle often stands between our comfort zone and the truth. As writers we want to get at the truth. Sometimes truth lays between what we think we know and what we say. They are sometimes the scraps we cull before even putting down the words. In my writing, so many things are left unsaid because I'm too afraid to take it that one step further. Why?

People will think less of me. Think I'm strange. My convictions are weak. My ideas are lame. Nobody will understand.

But if writers and filmmakers are unwilling to take the step into self-discovery or a character's self-discovery, then what is the point? We read or go to films to learn new things and to make connections, to relate, to understand ourselves and the people around us. We might learn that despite apparent differences, we are surprisingly alike. We need to be reminded of this often, lest in our self-centered worlds we forget that across the planet or across the street, someone else is having a similar thought. Maybe experiencing a similar alone-ness.

I began thinking about this after seeing a film on Monday night: Prodigal Sons. I read the blurb ahead of time. Though it seemed to give away a lot, it actually gave away very little. But, experiencing the film told me some truths I've been learning within my own extended family, which I won't go into here. It went deep into talking about identity, labels, how we see ourselves and how we think others see us. What makes us who we are? Can you truly reinvent yourself? Are we our history? It made me wonder how society can foster understanding besides one person at a time?

Now it's almost a week later. The film fest (and painting my stairs) has absorbed all my attention. Over the last several days, I've seen films that have raised my awareness on all sorts of issues, big and small. I suppose there must be a few blockbuster movies in the theaters right now but the fest brings us mostly small films. Sometimes the filmmakers or actors are here. We can actually ask the filmmakers what they meant and understand their answers. I love the film fest, but it will be a relief when it's over... maybe I'll send out some holiday cards.

get yourself to the film fest

Outside the Bear Tooth, December '08

Early December is film fest time here in Anchorage. I'm sometimes surprised how many people don't know about it or don't take advantage of the opportunity to see a great range of films that are out of the mainstream. But it is a busy time of year with parties and gift buying, friends traveling, students studying.

But if people can take some time out of their schedules to slouch into a theater seat, they'll be surprised at what they see. The Snow Dance portion of the festival has films about life in the northern latitudes (or extreme southern lats.) and several were filmed right here in Alaska. But it's an international fest, so one night you may see a movie filmed in Sweden, the next in Japan or India. Of course there are also films shot in the Lower-48 and in other countries around the world.

One of my favorite film fest moments was several years ago, when, for the opening-night gala, they built a screen out of snow outside Bernie's Bungalow Lounge and projected clips onto it throughout the evening as people wandered back and forth between the warmth of the bar and the chilly courtyard. I don't think the screen lasted more than a few days because, like every year in December, a Chinook rolled in, as it did earlier this week, melting the screen.

Maybe that's why I liked it so much, moving images on melting snow. Under-dressed women acting like they weren't cold. People trying to act cool because who knew when an up-and-coming director would show up? As if people were trying to convey: We're hip Alaskans. We do this all the time!

Well, I'm not particularly hip, but tonight I'll go to a Russian movie "Hipsters, (Stiljagi)" which will kick off the opening-night festivities. The party is included in the all-events passes Jon and I have, as are a few clinics on film making. I hope to take advantage of some of those in the next few days. Maybe someday, I'll be able to make something that's worthy of the festival. We shall see.

it's film fest time!

through the steam on my lens

Today I had the day off and since the snow had been falling since early last evening, I headed out to the park for a ski. I was the third person on one of the trails, after a snowbiker and a hiker. The park was mostly silent as the snow insulated the park from most road traffic noise. A few birds, their songs unidentifiable to me, flew through a meadow. I haven't been doing any biking this past week. I have a good reason, though.

Each December for just over a week, Jon and I put aside any bike commuting aspirations, delay addressing holiday cards and beg off work early so we can take in the films at the Anchorage International Film Festival. This is the eighth year of the fest which brings in features, some classics, documentaries, shorts and animation. Local entries are included in the "Snowdance" portion of the program.

The festival is a movie-going buffet for us since each year we get the all-films passes and hope to pick the best films and see the most we can. This year, I'm not as obsessive as I've been in previous years. One movie per night can be enough... but not always. Tonight, it's the Bear Tooth at 5:30, then the Museum at 8. If you're an Anchorageite, you should check out the second half of the fest. If you're a filmmaker, hey, submit something for next year. I'll go see it!