New Doc Qualifying Rules: Arguments, Notes, Questions

Over at All These Wonderful Things, AJ Schnack writes in depth on a subject that has long been a source of contention and debate in the documentary community: The Academy's rules for qualifying for the Oscars. Probably the biggest change is "Rule IV.2":

In addition to the Seven-Day Qualifying Exhibition, feature documentaries must complete a Multi-State Theatrical Rollout consisting of fourteen other exhibitions, as defined in Paragraph III.2, of at least three consecutive days each, at least twice daily, in any standard commercial format. These exhibitions must be distributed among ten or more states in the U.S. and must be completed by Thursday, November 15, 2007.

I was surprised when I first read about this rule (in John Sinno's Open Letter to the Academy). Mainly, I wondered how many docs could actually qualify for such a thing; it seemed unrealistic. AJ, though, is in support of the new rule and he makes a very convincing argument in support of the new policy. Pragmatically, he notes that several films qualified this year and, philosophically, he argues that

if you weren't hoping, weren't planning, weren't thinking all along that you'd have a real theatrical [run], then you shouldn't be thinking Oscar.

I found myself surprised to agree with him. My only lingering question on the issue is whether these rules are actually more restrictive than those applied to narrative features. To the best of my understanding -- and I could certainly be wrong on this -- a film like Letters from Iwo Jima really only needs a one-week qualifying run in New York or L.A. to be considered for the Oscars. If this is the case, why hold docs to a different standard? It seems like the best way to maintain integrity in the process is to have narratives and docs follow the same rules.

Aside from this minor point, I only found myself disagreeing with AJ one one other issue -- his support for the 35mm print requirement, which remains for docs short-listed for the Oscar. AJ writes:

Some filmmakers have complained that if your film is shortlisted, you must produce a 35mm film print, a costly process that is starting to seem unnecessary in the midst of the digital revolution. I find this complaint a bit hard to swallow, considering that just 6 years ago you couldn't play a film festival without a print, but Apted says that it's something the Documentary Branch is looking at, and that it's conceivable that in the near future you wouldn't have to have a print if you made the semifinals.

Actually, I think the 35mm print rule is a legitimate complaint.

While it's true that six years ago you couldn't play a festival without a print, it's also true that six years ago the theatrical experience was defined by 35mm film prints. Today, projection on 35mm is still the standard, but it no longer defines the theatrical experience. Digital projection in commercial cinemas has become increasingly commonplace. We are in an era where some viewers can go see a digitally shot, digitally projected "theatrical film" like Zodiac, as I did.

Furthermore, most documentaries these days -- including all five nominated last year -- were shot on some form of video. A 35mm blow up may be an "up-rez", but it is, in all likelihood, a decrease in visual quality of the camera original footage. In all likelihood, the best looking version is the film's videotape color-corrected edit master tape, which is probably on HDCAM SR. Heck, it might be on DVCam.

My point is this: If a film can qualify for the Oscar without ever making a print (by the new rules, it can), and if a 35mm print is a downgrade in quality (as any 35mm blow up is) then why create some flaming hoop for cash-strapped filmmakers and/or distributors to jump through? This would be a minor point, of course, if such prints didn't cost $20,000 or more. That's chump change for a studio; for the smaller outfits that distribute documentaries I would imagine that's a hefty price for what sounds like a few screenings for the Documentary Committee to decide whether or not you'll be nominated.

The supreme irony of all of this angels-on-the-head-of-a-pin debating is that if a movie ends up being nominated, most people will judge the film on DVD screeners at home. This is true of both fiction and documentary features but, either way, what's "theatrical" about that?

**

Healthy (and ultimately minor) disagrements aside AJ's whole article is great food for thought, at least if you're a documentarian (or advocate of them) or if you follow the Oscars in that Inside Baseball sort of way.

SXSW: Big Rig

Doug Pray's Big Rig follows several (maybe 10 or 12) truck drivers back and forth across the America. The film resists giving the audience a single overarching narrative thread and instead chooses to show most of his subjects in discrete vignettes. The approach has mixed success. The downside is simple, but important: Some of the truckers are more interesting subjects than others, so my interest in the movie waxed and waned with each featured trucker. Happily, the last two individuals (an outspoken Native American and a Polish emigree) were among the most interesting so, in the end, the picture did send me out on a high note.

The positive angle to Pray's strategy is that, by meeting so many truckers in the film, the film encourages us to make some generalizations about what might be termed "trucker values."

Those values amount to a mess of contradictions. Many of the truckers are simultaneously patriotic and anti-government; outspoken and, yet, against voting; and they hold traditional "family values", yet they're rarely at home. (Whether being on the road alone is the source or the result of these values is, sadly, left unexplored.)

Let me quickly add that I'm not condemning these contradictions. Quite the contrary: To me, one of Big Rig's strengths is that Pray exposes one subculture's contradictions in a way that is non-judgmental, even warm.

Big Rig has other things going for it (like Pray's gorgeous digital cinematography, which was shot on a Varicam), and against it (it had a couple too many landscape montages), but it has ultimately stayed with me because it features articulate, conservative, blue-collar Americans as its heroes. In this era of the "liberal documentary", it's worth remembering that if cinema is going to play a role in social change, first it must help bridge the divide that "red state vs. blue state" simplifications have created. This kind of respectful, human documentary investigation helps build that bridge.

An Open Letter to the Academy

John Sinno's open letter to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is worth a read, so I'm posting it below. Sinno was one of the producers of James Longley's Iraq in Fragments, a documentary full of poetry and ambiguity -- uncommon virtues for such a political film. Like the movie, the letter speaks for itself.

John Sinno Typecast Films 3131 Western Ave Suite 514 Seattle, Washington, USA March 2, 2007

An open letter to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences

I had the great fortune of attending the 79th Academy Awards following my nomination as producer for a film in the Best Documentary Feature category. At the Awards ceremony, most categories featured an introduction that glorified the filmmakers' craft and the role it plays for the film audience and industry. But when comedian Jerry Seinfeld introduced the award for Best Documentary Feature, he began by referring to a documentary that features himself as a subject, then proceeded to poke fun at it by saying it won no awards and made no money. He then revealed his love of documentaries, as they have a very "real" quality, while making a comically sour face. This less-than-flattering beginning was followed by a lengthy digression that had nothing whatsoever to do with documentary films. The clincher, however, came when he wrapped up his introduction by calling all five nominated films "incredibly depressing!"

While I appreciate the role of humor in our lives, Jerry Seinfeld's remarks were made at the expense of thousands of documentary filmmakers and the entire documentary genre. Obviously we make films not for awards or money, although we are glad if we are fortunate enough to receive them. The important thing is to tell stories, whether of people who have been damaged by war, of humankind's reckless attitude toward nature and the environment, or even of the lives and habits of penguins. With his lengthy, dismissive and digressive introduction, Jerry Seinfeld had no time left for any individual description of the five nominated films. And by labeling the documentaries "incredibly depressing," he indirectly told millions of viewers not to bother seeing them because they're nothing but downers. He wasted a wonderful opportunity to excite viewers about the nominated films and about the documentary genre in general.

To have a presenter introduce a category with such disrespect for the nominees and their work is counter to the principles the Academy was founded upon. To be nominated for an Academy Award is one of the highest honors our peers can give us, and to have the films dismissed in such an offhand fashion was deeply insulting. The Academy owes all documentary filmmakers an apology.

Seinfeld's introduction arrived on the heels of an announcement by the Academy that the number of cities where documentary films must screen to qualify for an Academy Award is being increased by 75%. This will make it much more difficult for independent filmmakers' work to qualify for the Best Documentary Feature Award, while giving an advantage to films distributed by large studios. Fewer controversial films will qualify for Academy consideration, and my film Iraq in Fragments would have been disqualified this year. This announcement came as a great disappointment to me and to other documentary filmmakers. I hope the Academy will reconsider its decision.

On a final note, I would like to point out that there was no mention of the Iraq War during the Oscar telecast, though it was on the minds of many in the theatre and of millions of viewers. It is wonderful to see the Academy support the protection of the environment. Unfortunately there is more than just one inconvenient truth in this world. Having mention of the Iraq War avoided altogether was a painful reminder for many of us that our country is living in a state of denial. As filmmakers, it is the greatest professional crime we can commit not to speak out with the truth. We owe it to the public.

I hope what I have said is taken to heart. It comes from my concern for the cinematic art and its crucial role in the times we'e living in.

John Sinno Academy Award Nominee, Iraq In Fragments Co-Founder, Northwest Documentary Association

Lost in Light Launches

Jennifer Proctor and Aaron Valdez's Lost in Light project website has officially launched. If you missed my post about it in October, the project is "devoted to preserving, archiving, and making available 8mm and Super 8 films that are otherwise being lost to time." Now that the project has begun, Jennifer and Aaron are ready to start accepting Super 8 and 8mm films for free transfer to video and inclusion on their videoblog. They are also accepting creative works made in Super 8 and 8mm for posting to the site.

Click here to find out more about having your Super-8 and "regular" 8mm movies transferred to video for free. The transfers they're offering are flickerless, and they look good. Check out their first post to see a sample.

If you're interested in submitting creative work, click here.

James Longley: SRF Interview

'You are going to be the proud owner of 25 million people,' he told the president. 'You will own all their hopes, aspirations, and problems. You'll own it all.' Privately, Powell and Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage called this the Pottery Barn rule: You break it, you own it.

-- from Plan of Attack by Bob Woodward

While the title of James Longley's mesmerizing new documentary, Iraq in Fragments, literally conjures images of the now-infamous "Pottery Barn rule", the connection runs much deeper than the title. Like Colin Powell's admonition to the president, James Longley's film actually considers the situation of the Iraqis. I say "actually" because, though it may seem like an obvious consideration, Iraq in Fragments is, to the best of my knowledge, the only American documentary about Iraq -- and this year has seen several of those -- that focuses solely on the citizens of that fractured nation

Divided into three discrete segments (hence the title's double-meaning), Iraq in Fragments first follows a fatherless 11 year old working in a Baghdad garage. The second section chronicles the growth of the militant followers of Muqtada al-Sadr. The film closes with a portrait of a family of Kurdish farmers. It's an illuminating approach, one that prevents it or us from making generalizations about how Iraq's citizens, have, and haven't, been transformed by the war. I imagine it will also help American audiences understand, at least a little, how American forces are viewed -- as occupiers by some, as liberators by others. Certainly, the time Longley spent with his subjects (well over a year, and 300+ hours shot) helps provide a perspective that's been absent from what we see on the nightly news.

While Iraq in Fragments would be noteworthy for its content, the film also happens to feature striking cinema verite cinematography and edgy editing, which gives the film a quality that is more poetry than prose. The style creates an impressionistic sketch of what it might feel like to be in Iraq, without (in my opinion) grossly aestheticizing the pain, rage, and hope he finds there.

The combination of style and substance has been met with critical praise. At Sundance, where it premiered, Longley took home honors for directing, editing, and cinematography -- a first for a single film. Since then its laurels include Best Documentary awards at major film festivals (Full Frame, Thessaloniki, and Chicago, among others), as well as a Gotham Award.

That Longley did most of the work (e.g., cinematography, editing, music, etc) single-handedly will make the film's achievement that much more impressive for some. Longley, though, suggests that working this way was precisely how he was able to achieve things.

We emailed back and forth last week, soon after Iraq in Fragments was short-listed for the Best Documentary Oscar.

***

You have "film school" training, but you chose to study in Russia. Can you talk a little about your training at the VGIK?

VGIK is a good school -- and it used to be even better back in the heyday of the Soviet Union. From my perspective in the early 1990s, it offered a chance to film inexpensively on 35mm. Also, there's a huge selection of 35mm prints playing at all hours in the 5-6 cinema screens in the main building -- so it's like attending a continuous film festival. Many of the professors are quite experienced and gifted, and the student body is talented. It was nice to have a different angle on filmmaking for a while -- something closer to Tarkovsky and Eisenstein than to Spielberg -- and to be surrounded with people who felt the same way. But most of all, it was a good chance to try my hand at making a documentary film under the difficult circumstances of a Moscow winter (Portrait of a Boy with Dog -- co-directed with Robin Hessman) and confirming that filmmaking was what I wanted to do with my life.

The director's "voice" is so strong in Iraq in Fragments -- through the poetic imagery and impressionistic editing -- but any political opinions you might have can only be inferred by audiences. This really sets it apart from a lot of other documentaries -- from the Michael Moore and Robert Greenwald (Outfoxed, etc) movies to less strident fare like An Inconvenient Truth. Still, I suspect that when you've screened the film for audiences at festivals people have asked you your opinions about Iraq. What do you tell them? Personally, I thought the Iraq war was a bad idea. But that's just my opinion, and everybody has opinions. With my film, I wanted to do something more than simply tell people what I think: I wanted to convey a broader sense of what was happening in Iraq during the two years I was there, and to put a human face on the country -- to let people experience the place a bit. I'm not sure whether I was ultimately successful, but I tried.

One of the most conspicuous decisions you've made -- one many critics have cited in their praise for the film, one of the things that distinguishes it from some other Iraq documentaries released this year -- is your choice to focus on Iraqis, not Americans. US soldiers only make very brief appearances, and none (to the best of my memory) ever speak. Likewise, I don't remember any contractors or Western journalists making appearances. Was that the plan from the beginning, or did you shoot footage documenting those perspectives, too?

My original goal was to make a film about Iraqis -- I tried to start this project before the war, but was unable to begin until after -- and when the war ended my goal hadn't changed. I knew that the perspective of US soldiers and even US journalists was already being recorded by other filmmakers, and I had no desire to duplicate their efforts. And in any case, I prefer to focus on under represented perspectives, of which the Iraqis' is certainly one. It's the harder film to make in many ways, but I think also the most important. After all, the Americans will eventually leave Iraq; the Iraqis will stay.

What interactions did you have with other Americans while there? Were you on the radar? Under the radar? Under the radar, I think. I didn't have a lot of interaction with US troops, mostly because I wasn't filming them and I almost never went onto US bases. I never went to the Green Zone, for example -- don't know what it looks like on the inside. A lot of my journalist/filmmaker friends spent at least part of their time in Iraq embedded with US troops, but I chose to stay outside the wire.

Like the military, you're clearly a Westerner and, though you weren't carrying a gun, you were carrying a video camera. Why or how do you think you were able to blend in like "furniture" as you say in your production notes? Was it just a matter of putting in the time, or were there other factors? It's mostly a matter of spending enough time and moving very patiently. I really didn't stand out as a Westerner -- with a beard and a suntan, many people thought I was from Iran when I was filming in Najaf. They would come up to me and start speaking in Farsi. But mostly I just took a lot of time to get to know people and know the location before doing a lot of filming work -- in all the places I filmed, I did weeks/months of prep work, letting locals get used to me. And I was just extremely lucky, also -- I came at the right time and left at the right time. And somehow I managed to walk between the raindrops.

Are you still in touch with your subjects, especially the kids in the first and last segments? I haven't been able to keep up with everyone; last time I heard from Mohammed Haithem he was working for his uncles in Baghdad. The Kurdish farming family is still in much the same situation as when I filmed them. The Sadr movement is famously contentious.

Has anyone that is in the movie seen it? If not, will there be any oppportunities for that? So far nobody in the film has seen it. It's very difficult to send packages to people in Iraq now, very difficult to move around even in a city like Baghdad, even for locals. Also, most people in Iraq don't have DVD players that they could watch the film with. Video CD has been the format of choice in Iraq for the last 10 years or so, and DVD is only just starting to appear in places like the Kurdish areas of northern Iraq.

Did you have any reservations about screening the film publicly without screening it for your subjects first? Some documentarians consider this an essential part of their enterprise, while others argue that it can compromise the integrity of the piece. I have never screened documentary work for the subjects before releasing it to the public -- but that may be partly due to the specifics of what/where I'm filming. I'm not against the idea of showing the film to the subjects to get their reaction, certainly, but I also don't consider it a mandatory step. I film with people for such a long time that I become very confident of my portrayal by the end of it. I often showed the people in the film sections of material as I was filming in Iraq, but I've never had a chance to show them the completed work, thus far. It's not so easy to send a DVD to a house in Baghdad now, and even if I did -- they don't have DVD players.

HBO was involved with the project, as was the Sundance Institute. When and how did financing for the film come about? HBO acquired the TV rights to Iraq in Fragments in summer of 2006, after it was completed. They have been very helpful in promoting the release of the film, and I expect they will screen the film on Cinemax in 2007. I applied for a Sundance production grant while still filming in Iraq, and after going through several rounds of review with them, they came forward with a grant in autumn 2005. They were instrumental in the completion of the film, and also selected Iraq in Fragments for the 2006 Sundance Film Festival, which was the perfect place to premiere it.

The credits of both Iraq in Fragments and your previous film, Gaza Strip, list you as the producer, director, cinematographer, sound, music and editor. You seem to have willed both movies into existence virtually single-handedly. Do you like working this way, or is it more of a necessity? And, either way, what do you find it affords you, and are there things you feel you can't do on your own? It's partly necessity -- because I was using my own money to pay for the entire pre-production and production period of the film, and partly because I know what I like and I know how to use a camera. I like to make things, and it's not difficult for me. It's what I enjoy most. If you're working with other people, sometimes you'll put their needs before the filmmaking process -- I might not have filmed for two years in Iraq if I had been collaborating with another person full time from the start. Doing your own work lets you make fewer compromises in a difficult filming environment. That said, of course I did work with a lot of other people on the film -- there are about twelve different translators / fixers, and two other editors (Billy McMillin and Fiona Otway), John Sinno came on board to co-produce after production, etc -- so it is a collaborative process, but one in which I didn't ask other people to participate in the full two and a half years of pre-production and production. For that period, I simply brought on Iraqi translators in various locations in Iraq and worked with them as long as I was in their area. I never asked anyone to go through the whole journey along with me, because most people wouldn't have wanted to in the first place.

As you can probably guess from the name of this website, a lot of the people reading this are interested in self-sufficient filmmaking methods such as yours. Do you have any tips for them -- philosophical or technical? When filming with these small video cameras, always try to find a way to keep the iris wide open. Your material will look much better.

***

For more details on the production history of Iraq in Fragments, check out Longley's production notes. Also, Kimberly Reed's fine interview with Longley in DV Magazine goes into detail about the production process and provides specifics about the equipment used. The quality of Reed's article led me to avoid (for the most part) asking overlapping or similar questions in this interview, in fact.

Review: 51 Birch Street

Doug Block's 51 Birch Street opens today at Cinema Village in New York. The film has really been tearing up the festival circuit, and now Block is semi-self-distributing the film via Truly Indie, the distribution service brainchild of Mark Cuban and Todd Wagner. The film is being billed, not incorrectly, as a documentary mystery: Just a few months after Doug's mother dies, Doug's father suddenly announces that he's engaged to his former secretary. It's not long before Doug finds himself at their wedding, awkwardly toasting the new couple. At the reception his father, the groom, is a different man. What's the story? Was his father unfaithful? Was his parents' seemingly happy marriage a sham? Doug starts asking questions and the more the detective digs, the more uncertain he is he wants to know the truth.

On one level, 51 Birch Street is a well-made, if somewhat conventional, autobiographical documentary. Block's conflicts with his father reminded me of Alan Berliner's Nobody's Business and, though it's unfair to compare the two, I do wish that 51 Birch Street had some more stylistic flair. The visuals rarely transcend the plain, home-movie look so common to video, and Block's voice-over sometimes explains more than is necessary.

But the movie is about looking beneath the surface, and on that meaningful score 51 Birch Street succeeds. Block shows us a seemingly stable marriage, then peels back layer after layer until he discovers the heartbreaking truths of two unfulfilled lives and the relationship they both outlived, but never abandoned. Implicit throughout is a critique of blind allegiance to "family values": What good is a golden-anniversary marriage, if it's stale, maybe even dead, at its core? The comparison to Updike (as at least one reviewer has made) is apt: This couple could have lived at 51 Birch Street. Or in your suburban neighborhood. Or maybe in your own home.

51 Birch Street makes an impact. I've thought about it every day since I saw it well over a week ago.

Check it out for yourself at a screening in your area.

Call for Submissions: Journal of Short Film

The Journal of Short Film is looking for submissions for their Winter 2006 edition. The deadline is November 8th. In the email that the JSF sent me about their call for submissions they noted that this issue will be guest edited by Sam Green. It's a funny bit of coincidence, getting this notice, as I just screened a clip from Green's The Weather Underground in the class I taught today.

So: Submit those shorts to the JSF. And see The Weather Underground, if you've not already.

Small Gauge Madness: Home Movie Day

August 12 is Home Movie Day. As part of the festivities, small-gauge film-related events will be held in 27 states and 6 countries this year. This is the first I've heard of it, but apparently Home Movie Day is in its fourth year. Here's some information from the website:

Home Movie Day was started in 2002 by a group of film archivists concerned about what would happen to all the home movies shot on film during the 20th century....

The Home Movie Day founders envisioned a worldwide celebration of these amateur films, during which people in cities and towns all over would get to meet local film archivists, find out about the long-term benefits of film versus video and digital media, and—most importantly—get to watch those old family films! Because they are local events, Home Movie Day screenings can focus on family and community histories in a meaningful way. They are also an education and outreach opportunity for local archivists, who can share information about proper storage and care for personal films, and how to make plans for their future.

Great stuff. If you happen to go to one of the events, post a comment and let us know how it went. My ladyfriend and I are hoping to attend the one in Richmond.

On a related note, if you've got a lot of 8mm or Super-8 movies that you need to have transferred to video, check back tomorrow.

No Time to Waste: 48-Hour PSA Project

A while back I wrote about a 48 hour documentary project, now along comes a 48-hour PSA project that is the brainchild of Asian Arts Initiative Executive Director Gayle Isa and Sara Zia Ebrahimi, who shared some thoughts on this site about film co-ops. Because of the meetings, the event is largely Philadelphia-based, but if you're interested in participating you might send them an email (info below) to inquire if you can play along. (They're planning on uploading to BlipTV, after all.)

One of the more interesting aspects of this 48-hour project is that, as far as I can tell, it's non-competitive. While I'm sure the collective nature of the project will push everyone to do their best work (wanting to "top" each other, etc.) the emphasis, in the end, is on the making work and the collective spirit that comes from participation in such a thing. A small change, but a big difference that is entirely appropriate for a project dealing with this subject matter.

No Time to Waste The 48-hour PSA Project Confronting War

This is a call out to local artists, activists, filmmakers, musicians, poets, carpenters, office workers, janitors—anyone! who is frustrated with any of the wars this country is engaged in, at home or abroad, and wants to send a message to the world about it—a digital message. The 48-hour PSA Project will bring together people in the Philadelphia area to create 30-60 second public service announcements against war within a 48-hour period. At the end of the 48 hours the videos will be posted on the Internet and available for viewing by millions of people worldwide. Join us for a digital mobilization where instead of posters and signs our digital media conveys our message!

How it works:

Individuals will group together in "pods" of 4-8 people. Each pod should have at least one person who fits each of these specifications:

    access to a video camera 

    access to editing software such as Final Cut Pro or iMovie and working knowledge of editing.

    We also recommend selecting roles for each person in your group based on your needs (camera operator, script writer, narrator, researcher, etc.) before the 48-hour period begins.

All pods will meet up on Saturday September 9th in the morning for a brief introduction to the project. They will each have 48 hours to come up with a concept, shoot it, edit it, and compress it for web uploading. A public event and screening of all the PSAs will occur on Monday evening, September 11th. The PSAs will also eventually be compiled onto a DVD that will be available for distribution.

How to enter: Please email the "Group Application" form below to psas_against_war@hotmail.com. You will receive a confirmation email as well as more detailed information on the project and the 48-hour weekend.

If you are interested in participating but don't have enough other people to group with, please email the "Request to Join a Group" form below to psas_against_war@hotmail.com. We will put you in contact with others so that you can all participate!

**Group applications are due by Monday September 3rd.**

How much does it cost? $5 per individual, and two days of your time. Money goes toward breakfast Saturday morning, a miniDV tape, and administrative expenses.

When and where? Participants will meet up on Saturday, September 9th at 9:30am at the Asian Arts Initiative, 1315 Cherry Street, 2nd floor. The project ends at 9:30am on September 11th. More details will be given once your group has registered.

Some folks call it the herd instinct....

... but in the movie business we call it "word of mouth."

Over at All These Wonderful Things, AJ Schnack has been covering the release of An Inconvenient Truth, the new documentary about Al Gore's post-2000 rebirth as the global warming doomsday messenger.

As you'll see from AJ's first, very substantive post on the subject, I'm skeptical of the doc's entertainment value. But now... I'm beginning to want to see it.

In reference to the film's L.A. opening yesterday, AJ quotes a guy that works at the Laemmle Monica as saying "These are Crouching Tiger numbers. It was insane, man!" Is this why I want to see it? Because it's possibly going to be a hit?

I don't think so.

Actually, I'm growing more interested because AJ's got me hooked on his articles that follow the movie's release. Mind you, I'm still skeptical. After all, I'm not interested in seeing An Inconvenient Truth because I like Al Gore (though I do), and I'm not interested in seeing the film because I am sensitive to the issue of global warming (though I am). I've become interested in the movie because a fellow filmmaker, whose writing I admire, thinks this film's worthy of repeated attention.

In order, here are AJ's posts. See for yourself: post one (featuring naysaying by yours truly), post two, and post three.

Also, the IFC blog has a nice sum-up of the movie's first round of reviews. To sum up the sum-up: Generally positive, but more Social Studies than Great Cinema. Still, when I read that one influential non-cineaste has a two-word reply to whether or not he'll see it ("Doubt it.")....well, I know it's immature to say so, but for me that's even more reason to go.

UPDATE: Boffo BO for Truth! (That's my attempt at a Variety-style headline.)

Transcription Tools for Mac Audio/Video

Here are two useful transcription tools for Mac users: First, there's Inqscribe, which lets you watch your footage and transcribe it at the same time. No more switching back and forth between applications, or using two computers. Haven't tested it, but it looks promising. Free trial for 30 days, then $69.

The second is Transcriva, which is an audio only transcription tool. Same as above, but no video. I used this to transcribe the Joe Swanberg interview from a few days ago, which I had recorded using my iPod and iMic. It works like a charm. Cost: $20.

Showtime/Smithsonian petition

Scott Macaulay has an in-depth post about a coalition of filmmakers petitioning to stop Showtime's licensing of the Smithsonian's archives. Anthony Kaufman's blog has a copy of the petition for you to download, as well as a link to the NY Times article on the movement. I encourage you to get involved.

In addition to rooting for the petition drive to work, I'm also curious to see the effectiveness of the petitioning for other reasons. As I wrote a few weeks ago, this is exactly the sort of issue that a healthy AIVF would have been able to lobby against in years past. Now, with AIVF ailing, the petition drive is an interesting test case that might predict how well filmmakers might be able to organize, advocate, and change the system in a world without AIVF.

Fair Use, Pt II: Ctr for Social Media

Agnes Varnum from the Center for Social Media has reminded me of another important resource for filmmakers dealing with issues of public domain, copyright, and fair use. It's the Documentary Filmmakers' Statement of Best Practices in Fair Use. Download it here. Agnes describes the Statement as "a short handbook that articulates certain circumstances in documentary making when it is appropriate to claim fair use for copyrighted material."

In her comment on this blog, Agnes adds, "I'm going to be at several fests over the next few months on panels about the issue and helping doc makers understand how to make better use of fair use. It's a small step, but an important one. We already have a lot of movement on the gatekeeper side to adopt the principles at work in the handbook."

She'll be at the Nashville Film Festival (one of my favorites) in April. Check out Agnes' blog, in addition to the Center's website, for more info and other dates.

Free Comic for Filmmakers

A reader of this blog (thanks, Jon) alerted me to one of the coolest works of edutainment I've seen in a long, long time. The work in question is Tales from the Public Domain: Bound By Law?, and it's a graphic novel (published by Duke University's Center for the Study of Public Domain) that explores and explains copyright, "fair use", licensing and other tricky, sticky issues that inevitably arise when you're making a documentary. If those topics usually make your eyes glaze over, look no further. Granted, as a graphic novel, Bound by Law's anecdotes about licensing problems in docs like Sing Faster and Mad Hot Ballroom can't compete with the storylines of, say, V for Vendetta or Watchmen, but I was genuinely impressed with the quality of the art and writing. Plus, how many other graphic novels are going to help save you money and keep you out of court when you make your next documentary?

The cost? A mere $5.95 for the book, or free as a digital copy.

Int'l Documentary Challenge

Doug Whyte of KDHX (St. Louis Community Media) emailed me recently about a new "timed-filmmaking" competition called the International Documentary Challenge (IDC), which will be happening this March 22-27, 2006. Much like the 48 Hour Film Project, in the Doc Challenge teams from around the world have just over 5 days to make a short non-fiction film (4-8 min.).

The organizations involved seem first-rate: the competition has been developed in cooperation with the International Documentary Association, the Documentary Organisation of Canada and the creators of the 48 Hour Film Project, and the winning films will screen this summer at a theatrical event presented in association with Silverdocs.

The competition costs $125 to enter ($110 if you register by Feb. 28). I asked Doug what the entry fee goes towards since it's more than the $35-$50 you usually see with film festivals. He replied:

Hi Paul,

Thanks for the email. As far as the entry fee, the amount is based on several things:

1. We only accept a limited number of teams (as opposed to festivals that will accept hundreds if not thousands of entries.)

2. The fees take care of many expenses: administration, marketing, judging, prizes, etc. Even with the $110-125 fee, we will still not make a profit.

3. We actually pursue distribution for the films - theatrical and TV and will also release a DVD. We are a non-profit organization and by no means make money on any of these deals. (If the winning films happen to earn a profit, we share that with the filmmakers.)

That said, I would like to see the fees become more affordable for the filmmakers. But that won't happen unless we are able to get a sponsor who can help cover our expenses for running an event like this.

I hope that explains it. If you have any more questions, I'd be happy to try and answer them.

Thanks, Doug Whyte IDC Producer

So there it is. Good luck to anyone that enters and good luck, also, to Doug and his crew in their launch of this competition.

Frederick Wiseman: Pro and Con

This year's honoree of the ASC's Award of Distinction is Frederick Wiseman. American Cinematographer's appreciation of his career is worth a read, and there are some great photos of Wiseman editing on his Steenbeck 6-plate. Wiseman's a great filmmaker -- probably one of the five or six greatest living American filmmakers. If you've not seen High School or Titicut Follies, add it to your to-see list. Of course, if you haven't seen any Wiseman films it's not like I can blame you. Unless you're friends with bootleggers, your best bet for seeing one is to go to a university library, which is about the only kind of institution that could remotely afford one of his movies: $400 per title. (That's $400 per VHS tape, folks.)

This is the way Wiseman wants it, apparently. Here's a quote from his company's website:

I am a student/filmmaker/individual without the resources to rent or purchase a film. How can I see a particular Wiseman film? We have the Wiseman films on deposit at several public libraries and archives throughout the United States. One of the largest collections is at the Museum of Television & Radio in New York City and Los Angeles. Patrons may not remove the films from the premises but there are video booths available to view films and television programs free of charge. If New York and Los Angeles are not convenient please call us and we will let you know if there is a library in your area with any of the films.

Wiseman is, of course, entitled to do whatever he wants with his work, but it seems at least a little hypocritical that the people he's trained his camera on (the poor, those living in remote areas, etc.) are those that have the least access to his movies. I guess I expect more from a filmmaker who's otherwise so sharp at seeing the relationships between people and institutions.

Oscar-inspired miscellanea

In case you didn't hear, the Oscar nominations were announced today. I always like nosing around the documentary and short film category nominations after they're posted. They're usually the only films that haven't been over-hyped. My award for "Best [and only] nominated film that I've never heard of that sounds interesting, which I will now seek out because of its Oscar nomination" goes to...

...Marshall Curry's Street Fight.

Curry wrote, directed, shot, and edited the piece on MiniDV. This excerpt from the website's FAQ is good stuff:

I shot the film on a Sony PD-150 and usually shot alone. It wasn't easy-- I was shooting, doing sound, lugging my gear around, driving the car, getting release forms. But shooting alone also made it possible for me to get more intimate footage than I could have if I had a crew with me. I could jump into the backseat of car or duck into a meeting, and people didn't pay much attention to me.

Also, a shout-out, while I'm at it, to AJ Schnack's coverage of the doc oscar stuff. There are some good posts on his blog about Grizzly Man not being shortlisted, as well as his own valiant, but ultimately unfruitful, attempt to get the nominees for Best Documentary Feature to be announced on television.

In other Oscar news I was happy to see Terrence Howard get a nomination for Hustle and Flow (see DVD round up #2). And it'll certainly be fun to see the producers of the awards figure out how to have someone perform "It's Hard Out There for a Pimp." Perhaps they could skip the lyrics and just have Debbie Allen choreograph an interpretive dance to the backing track?

If the Oscars aren't your style, it's worth noting that Razzie nominations were announced today as well. Their site is having a harder time loading than the Oscar site. Perhaps it's because, as their site says, 2005 was "a very bad year for movies... but a berry good year for The Razzies."

Documentary Cookbook

UPDATE 9.1.2009: Looking for the Documentary Cookbook article for our students at Virginia Tech we noticed that it's been taken down from the UC Berkley website and appears to have disappeared from the internet... except in this mildly abbreviated copy/paste job.

I first read the UC Berkeley Center for New Documentary's "Cookbook" essay over three years ago. It's a fairly straightforward essay that investigates, through theory and practice, the question of how one can inexpensively produce intelligent, saleable documentaries. In its subject matter, there's nothing especially revolutionary about the Cookbook -- people have been making movies cheaply for years, and people have been writing about how to do the same for nearly as long. But a couple of things make the Cookbook a keeper (aside from the fact that it's free, of course):

First, it's written by working filmmakers, about working filmmakers, for working filmmakers. It's very, very readable. A damn good read as far as these things go, in fact.

Secondly, it's written from the conviction that all personnel on any film should be paid the going professional rate for the work they do. Salaries are not reduced, deferred, or eliminated from the budget in order to "get the film made."

This second point is critical. It doesn't take a genius to know that if you have access to a camcorder you could theoretically shoot a feature for about $10 (the cost of two 60 minute MiniDV tapes) these days. Making a movie on the cheap and paying all parties involved is much harder. The Cookbook's focus, then, is on helping "journeyman filmmakers" (their term) find ways to make a living while producing vital work. Good stuff.

What makes all of the Cookbook's ideas especially seductive is the reasonable, intelligent voice of the writing, which avoids the unrealistic cheerleading (or sketchy used car salesman vibe) you sometimes find in these You-Can-Do-It essays.

Of course, the question is: Can these ideas work for anyone? The Cookbook was written in 2002, and as far as I know it has not been updated since. How have documentaries using the Cookbook's guidelines fared, both critically and in the marketplace? An email asking about updates and further thoughts, which I sent to its authors last week in preparation for this post, hasn't been answered. I was hoping they would address what the Cookbook spends the least time discussing: distribution. After all, the key question these days is not "How can I get a movie made?" but whether or not it will be distributed.

I'm also interested in what the Cookbook has to say to narrative filmmakers. Obviously, the issues facing the genres aren't identical. To name just one, documentaries are marketed on their content far more than narrative films, which typically rely on the use of one or more "name" actors. Since a $100,000 budget isn't likely to cover the salaries that name actors command, productions in that budget range are usually at a substantial disadvantage in the search for distribution. For that matter, just paying your cast SAG scale would strain a $100K budget.

It's for this reason that the Cookbook probably has the most application to filmmakers that are working "regionally"since they typically are working with fewer resources, a smaller crew/talent pool, and in a style that's more humanistic than spectacle-driven. Reading over the essay again tonight, I was inclined to think of filmmakers like John O'Brien, Todd Verow or Caveh Zahedi whose films blend fiction and non-fiction, actor and non-actor and, script and improvisation in rewarding ways. Soderbergh's upcoming Bubble is another film that springs to mind.

The Cookbook's ideas aren't radical. Or if they are, they're not alone in their radicalism. InDigEnt's production model (as just one example) is not so very different from what the Cookbook proposes. InDigEnt productions (from what I remember) are made for about $300,000, and feature name actors (Sigourney Weaver, Katie Holmes, etc.). The main difference is that talent and crew are paid minimal wages up front and deferred the rest through profit participation. But that is a big difference and, in fact, is the distinction that separates the Cookbook from other models.

One way or another the essay's worth a read... I'd enjoy hearing your comments on it.