Hi, I’m Alonso. I write & direct movies of all colors, shapes & sizes. This is my tumblr, where I share stuff I like and blog about filmmaking & the internet. I’m currently active on @fictionproject & @thestoryofluke.
Why NOT put every unordered pilot online? People worked hard on those episodes, doesn’t their hard work deserve an audience? I think it would also be fascinating to see what didn’t get ordered, sort of like playing “Fantasy Network Executive.
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The Bitter Script Reader: Why not put failed pilots on iTunes?
Yes! But having the audience second guess the execs probably scares some folks to death. Yes!
Trailers hold a unique place in a film’s development. Even though they’re usually relegated to the marketing machine, they’re the audience’s first entry point to a film storyworld. As a filmmaker, I find the trailer troublesome. In a perfect world one would want the audience to experience the story for the first time in a dark comfortable theater, with good sound and no distractions, to watch the characters unfold and go along in their journey just as planned in the screenplay. But as an audience member, I’d be hard pressed to go see a movie without first knowing what it’s about. Without first seeing a trailer.
And Hollywood has elevated the trailer to an art form. There are experienced editors who can shine the biggest turds into 2 minute masterpieces that people pay good money to go see. I’ve been duped. I’m sure most people have. “It looked good in the trailer”. But going past Hollywood marketing trickery, the trailer is still a basic requirement for any movie that hopes to gather any considerable audience. But what if a film project decided not to cut a trailer? What would you have to do as a filmmaker to sell your story to an audience without cutting the flashiest scenes together into something a music video could be jealous of?
I think one would have to start with the screenplay itself. Why couldn’t characters begin to be explored outside of the main 90-120 minute film structure? And what if instead of cutting trailers, the marketing was based on moving the narrative along in a significant way, possibly through a series of short web-friendly “free” content? If one went a step further, alternative story-related content could even continue as the “main film event” was in theaters or put out on DVD or VOD. The new content could explore secondary storylines or side characters or even another side of the film’s main protagonists, and possibly lay the groundwork for the next “main film event”. But the new content couldn’t be an afterthought or a marketing gimmick, it would have to be part of the main filmmaking process, right there on the page of the screenplay itself. If done well it could actually elevate the storytelling to another level, something that no trailer, for incredibly good that it may be, could pull off.
I think the writer in me would be partly horrified of this scenario. “So now it’s not enough to write a kick-ass screenplay, but I have to come up with all these other “alternative contents” to go along with the movie? How do you even go about organizing all this? I’m confused.” But who said traditional film structure has to stay the same for another 100 years? The partly horrified writer in me would then shut up and give way to the audience member in me. “Impress me. I dare you.”
Traditional film storytelling is a beautiful thing. A film well told will suck you in and take you for a ride. You will almost believe you are experiencing what the characters are going through. But there will always be a wall between the story and the spectator. The story is what happens inside the frame, for a set period of time. The spectator’s only task is to give his full attention. To stare at the screen. And to be entertained.
That wall between the film and the spectator is something that has traditionally been meticulously guarded by filmmakers. A film doesn’t refer to itself as a film or make reference that somebody is actually watching it. Actors have to be careful when their eye lines cross the camera so as not to look straight into it, the difference between an intimate moment and an uncomfortable stare to the center of the camera’s lens, the audience, could be millimeters. One wouldn’t want to break the illusion.
And it’s that simple illusion, the suspension of the spectator’s belief, that defines the film experience. Filmmaking is all about working within a set of rules, inside the frame, to entertain spectators. But what happens if you get rid of all those rules, if you get rid of the frame itself and you break down the wall that separates the story and the audience? Madness? Where would you even start?
The beautiful thing about the craft of film are the rules themselves. After all, they’re there for a reason. A storyteller needs a framework to tell his story. And film is the ultimate storytelling framework. But what if the madness worked? What if one broke film’s frame and told a story in multiple screens across multiple mediums? What if one broke film’s time limit and told a story that varied in length in each individual viewing? And what if one broke film’s wall of illusion and literally involved the audience in the story? Could it work? And most importantly… Could it be easy to follow and not be terribly cheesy?
“It” would have to have it’s own set of rules. “It” would have to create it’s own unique wall of illusion. “It” would have to create a new storytelling framework that could be repeated. Then… Maybe.
Here’s the challenge:
What are the tools? Everything.
Shit…
Every year, thousands of independent filmmakers scam their friends & families, sell their bodies, trade with the devil or con unsuspecting investors into giving them just enough money to make a feature film (over 9,000 entries in Sundance Film Festival 09!). Never mind the quality of all those films, think about the stories they tell: even though many may coincidentally share similar themes, every single one of those films tells a unique story with unique characters.
Why?
Does the world really need that many examples of filmmakers personal visions? (Over 9,000! for how many slots? And of those selected, the handful that are nominated for some award, or even win, may not be guaranteed the most basic of theatrical distribution and have a hell of a time paying back investors)
Here’s the stupid idea: imagine that all those movies, all 9,000 of them, were not just unique stories with unique characters, but were linked to each other. Maybe in groups of 3, 5 or 10. What if each one of those groups of films not only shared production resources, but shared a story. What if characters moved back and forth between projects and stories continued beyond each individual film? A film wouldn’t be just a film anymore, it would be part of something bigger, a story world. Indie film would be more like… TV. Yes, TV at it’s best. And it would no longer be “independent”, but “collaborative”. And more importantly, it would have a product with a distinct edge in the marketplace.
Wouldn’t that be f****** cool?
