The story so far... and your daily dose of inspiration

A flurry of postings about this site by various people around the internet has led to an uptick in traffic. Greetings, newcomers. This site's less than four months (and 50 posts) old, and if you're new to Self-Reliant Film, allow me to give you a recap, a tour if you will, of some of the highlights.

With a tip of the hat to Citizen Kane, the blog launched with a Declaration of Principles.

Since then, the site has covered a range of issues and interests:

There's talk of tools: Not just camera stuff, but also things like software reviews, widget round-ups, and a few posts on DIY film tools (including this popular one). I even created a rollyo search engine for film and digital cinema.

It's not all geekin' out, though. There's just as much talk about distribution. Here are two of the more clicked-on posts: one on DIY distribution, one on promotion. Also, if you're interested in self-distro issues, make sure you check out the stuff that links to David Lowery and AJ Schnack's blogs.

Above all, even if I'm writing about the nitty-gritty details of this or that issue, it always comes back to principles.

I'm not going to recap everything, but if you dig around the archives you'll see that I also like to post about lesser-known DVDs, issues concerning regional filmmaking, and filmmakers that have something to teach me.

If you like what you see, you're invited to subscribe to the feed and talk it up in the comments section.

Speaking of principles, we can all use some inspiration now and then. After all, making movies is hard work, no matter how you try to go about it. So in case you need your daily dose of inspiration, perhaps this short film will be of use:

Enjoy!

ps. By the way, just like with anything else you read, you might want to consider the source.

Self-Promotion for Filmmakers: Do's and Don'ts

On this website and elsewhere, there has been a lot of talk, writing, blogging, and general carrying-on lately about self-distribution. It's undoubtedly an exciting time for self-distro. Since promotion is part of distribution, it follows that self-promotion is an often necessary facet, at least at first, of self-distribution. And that is tricky stuff. Here's a true story:

One day, while at a film festival, I was walking to the festival's main cinema. When I arrived, conspicuously parked outside the cinema was an ostentatious new car. The entire car had been custom-painted and tricked out to promote... a short film. (The car alone, not even counting the paint job, probably cost more than my own short.) The film might have been interesting, but I'll never know. I chose not to see it because I was immediately suspicious of a film whose promotion was disproportionate to its (under 10-minute) running time. This desperate attempt at self-promotion did the exact opposite of what it was supposed to do. Instead of enticing me to see the film, it told me avoid it.

When any kind promotion backfires it can be pretty ugly, but for some reason it just seems all the uglier when it's self-promotion that backfires. (For me it's probably because I'm more apt to laugh at corporations, but feel pity for individuals. But I digress.) The point is, I think a lot of filmmakers hurt their self-distribution efforts by not seeing the moral of my story above, which (in case you didn't get it) is: Be modest in your self-promotion.

I know this sounds paradoxical, but like most paradoxes, it's true. If the work speaks for itself, you'll be surprised at how quickly other people will speak for you.

Perhaps you've seen it too -- a filmmaker's attempt at self-promotion becomes an expression of self-deception, arrogance, or willful hucksterism (calling one's own work "groundbreaking!" or "a masterpiece!"). Sometimes -- and just as bad -- it's an exercise in bad faith. By "bad faith" I mean that filmmakers that are scared to admit that they're just one person trying to tell a simple story with modest means. Instead they dress their work up with pretentious lingo they've heard used (more appropriately) by multinational corporations: They refer to their projects as being by, say, "XYZ Studios in association with FGH Productions" instead of just "John and Jane Doe." They talk about their "brand" before they have made 30 minutes of material. They credit themselves not only as Writer, Director, and Producer, but also as Executive Producer.

Why? These tactics don't make the film better, nor do they make me take the film more seriously. Quite the opposite. And, perhaps more to the point, What's wrong with being an individual filmmaker working with modest means? There's no shame in it and, in fact, there is something beautiful about it. If you own up to it, that is.

With this in mind, here are some hopefully helpful do's and don'ts, which spring from my experiences distributing my own shorts, as well as from working at film festivals, being a festival judge, being a teacher of filmmaking, and being a moviegoer and DVD renter/purchaser:

DO: Start by making the best film you can. That means unique, non-derivative, and crafted to the best of your abilities and resources. DON'T: Bill yourself or your film as something you or it is not.

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DO: Credit yourself. Once or twice in your opening titles, closing credits, and video materials is enough. If your film is good, we'll remember your name or seek it out. DON'T: Credit yourself repeatedly with separate cards for Writer, Director, Art Diector, Cinematographer, Editor and (especially) Executive Producer. Remember, Orson Welles saved his name for last in Citizen Kane's credits, and even then he humbly shared the card with Gregg Toland, his cinematographer.

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DO: Use others' (i.e., critics, festival organizers, interesting bloggers, etc.) words to promote your film. We'll take it seriously. DON'T: Use self-congratulatory and outrageous adjectives of praise without attribution in your press releases. We know you wrote it.

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DO: Have a modest (but well-written) information kit, which includes a synopsis, unpretentious bios of cast and crew, any press clippings, and maybe a well-designed postcard. Stills are essential, too, but prints aren't necessary. Digital files are usually fine. DON'T: Promote your film with gimmicks, pandering, or anything else that takes the focus away from your film. People in animal costumes. Tricked out cars. Posters that measure over 150 square feet. I wish I was making this stuff up, but I'm not. I've seen it.

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DO: Have a website with essential information about the film and, for features, a clip or trailer. A blog, if well-written, can be interesting. DON'T: Have six blogs, all written by you, and all devoted to your film. It looks sad or, worse, desperate. When you alone and no one else promotes your film so hard you make me think it's not worth seeing.

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DO: Email people that might be especially interested in your work -- bloggers, critics, whoever -- with personal notes to let them know about your film. If you don't know the person, it's better if it goes through a mutual friend, but if you have to do it yourself, make it personal. DON'T: Email self-congratulatory press releases randomly or repeatedly, especially when the quotes are your own.

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DO: Ask people who like your film -- festival organizers, microcinema programmers, etc -- if they know of others that might also like it. DON'T: Give the "hard sell" to anyone, especially industry people. It's a turn-off.

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DO: Consider having a "email newsletter" for anyone that is interested. Keep it short and send it no more than once every few months. DON'T: Send long, unsolicited emails in bulk. We have a name for that. It's "spam."

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This stuff should be self-evident for a lot of people, but if it was evident to everyone I wouldn't be posting. I'm basically just saying: Be smart, be honest, keep a sense of humor about this stuff, and remember people sometimes listen more closely when you whisper. Let others form their own, hopefully positive, opinions about your work. And when they do your task of self-distribution becomes easier because the burden of expressing praise is shared by others.

And remember: While I may have some experience with this stuff, I'm certainly not the Pope of Self-Distribution. These are just one person's opinions, and I definitely invite your comments, dissenting and otherwise.

FresHDV's Oakhurst Interview

Matt at FresHDV has been running a two-part interview this week with indie film/postproduction techie blogger Josh Oakhurst. Josh's from-the-hip style suggests what might happen if you crossed that Mad Money guy on CNBC with a video engineer. This is my way of saying Josh's energy can make some otherwise somniferous subjects (say, differences in video codecs) interesting.

Josh, if you're reading, I do have two bones to pick with you:

Small point: I'm not convinced when you argue that Panasonic's P2 technology is ready for the trash heap. (For what it's worth, I have no allegiances in the HD/HDV format wars and I own none of those competing cameras.) I think it hurts your argument when you compare P2 to Panasonic's other failed/non-adopted formats, but you don't do the same for Sony (which it sounds like you use). Remember, Sony is the originator of Betamax. Shouldn't the same logic apply to HDV? Anyway, like I said, the logic didn't seem strong. Plus, a lot of people I've talked to that have used P2 say that a) it's getting cheaper and b) once you use it you never want to go back to using tape. My $0.02.

Bigger point: I think taking punches at "film school" kids is too easy. Sure, there are lots of spoiled rich kids making movies. (As a big-time indie producer once confided to me at the Rotterdam Film Festival, "They call it independent film because you have to be independently wealthy.") But film school kids and the crowd you're griping about aren't one and the same. For my part, I went to school before the DV revolution. It was the only way for a guy growing up in East Tennessee to get his hands on the tools of production. I went, I learned, and because of teaching assistantships I incurred very little debt. I have no regrets.

Likewise, the students I have taught at Temple and University of Tennessee (as well as the students that I've met in my travels) weren't born with silver spoons in their mouths. In fact, most have pretty heavy work schedules just to pay their state-school tuitions and the rent. They've come to film school to meet fellow-travelers, to have access to computers and good cameras they couldn't afford otherwise, and maybe, just maybe, to learn some ways to challenge the system that produces the television crap that you and I both hate. Like you, they are hungry to make films, that's all.

Anyway, other than that, I liked the interview. Keep up the good work with your blog.

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.

Gleaning at Garbagescout.com

I don't think I know of any self-respecting independent filmmaker that hasn't done a little dumpster diving in her/his life. (The best find: My friend Rob once reclaimed about a hundred unspoiled 16mm film prints of educational and documentary films, which a university library was throwing out. Mind-boggling.) If you're too proud, watch this and get over yourself. Anyway, this link's for all you guys in New York.

And regardless of whether you use Garbagescout.com when you dumpster dive, don't forget to whistle while you work.

HD Camera Comparison: A different perspective

DV.com has recently posted Adam Wilt's coverage of a shoot-out between the big (at the moment) four prosumer HD camcorders: Canon XL H1, JVC GY-HD100U, Panasonic AG-HVX200 and the Sony HVR-Z1U. The test has been getting a lot of attention on the blogs I read and respect: FresHDV, HDforIndies, and DVGuru. The article in question is definitely worth a read, especially if you're in the market for a camera or interested in the advances in the latest prosumer video technology. Adam Wilt knows his stuff and is a superb writer on tech/video issues. Whenever I see an article by him, I read it. This one's no exception.

Having said all of this this, I'd like to offer a somewhat different (dissenting? contraraian?) perspective about this and other camera shoot-outs.

Point #1: Video is not film.

When I read discussion boards about video cameras I feel like there's an implicit subtext to why everyone reads about these shootouts -- in fact, it's often explicit:

    i) People want to find out which camera produces the most "film-like" image. ii) People want to find out which camera will produce the best images for film blow-up. iii) People want to find out which one they should purchase.

Here's the problem with (i): "Film-like" video can only go so far. As anyone who understands both technologies can tell you, there are several differences between video and film. The four biggest differences have, until recently, been:

a) resolution: Film has more resolution than video. b) motion rendering: Film runs at 24 fps. NTSC video has, until recently, always and only been 60 interlaced frames. c) aspect ratio: 35mm film, though actually 4:3, is traditionally projected at 1.85. Standard definition camcorders have 4:3 image sensors. d) acquisition: Film captures on unique individual frames, video with a CCD.

What excites people these days is that "B" and "C" aren't as much of an issue now with the advent of HD. Don't get me wrong, I think it's exciting too, largely because, like so many other people, I love the look of film. And, while video running at 24fps doesn't look exactly the same as film, it sure goes a long way towards getting rid of the "video look" that many filmmakers despise.

The thing is, "A" and "D" stubbornly remain.

35mm film has much more resolution than even the best HD cameras on the market. And it blows things like the camcorders recently tested out of the water. End of story. And of "indie" formats, Super-16's resolution is better, in fact, than video. In fact, as much as people complain about the costs of shooting film, shooting on a CineAlta or a Varicam can cost about the same as Super-16.

How the image is acquired, though, is the biggest factor. You can change everything else -- aspect ratio, FPS, even resolution -- to that of film, but video, by definition, will acquire images in a different way than film. The difference defines the formats. Every frame of film has a different makeup of silver halide crystals, which gives film its grain (as I've said before, think snowflakes). And it's the dance of that grain that makes film seem to have a "soul." Video's acquisition via a CCD works more like a scanner. No grain.

In sum, film is film. Video -- even the most uncompressed HD -- is video. That doesn't make video bad. Camcorders can produce amazing images when care is taken with the lighting. (Heck, the DVX100 produces amazing looking stuff, and it's not HD.) But it does make film and video different.

As for (ii) , the blow-up issue is, I think, a non-issue. In my opinion, the only -- and I repeat only -- reason to blow up a video to film these days is if you have a theatrical release secured. Film festivals are not a reason anymore. Period. Two of the last festivals in the US to hold out on screening work on video -- Sundance and the Ann Arbor Film Festival -- started screening work on high-quality video projectors years ago. (I would even argue that it is pointless for filmmakers to finish their 35mm and Super16 films on film unless they have theatrical distribution secured. But that's another story.) If you have made a film that is considered "good enough" or "commerical enough" for theatrical distribution, it will be blown up, no matter the camera (cf. The Blair Witch Project).

Finally, regarding (iii), I agree: Wanting to learn more about cameras because you're in the market for one is a legitimate and good reason to be interested in tests like these. Absolutely.

Unfortunately....

Point #2: Tests like this are always subjective.

Adam Wilt says it better than I ever could:

Camera comparisons are incredibly difficult to perform, to judge objectively, and to quantify. By their nature, they are open to errors of omission and commission, and to accusations of bias. At their best, they illuminate aspects of performance, but they can never completely encapsulate the entire scope of how a camera behaves and how it renders a scene, because there are simply too many variables to control.

(Note: This is why I like and trust Adam Wilt's writing.)

Now, I ask you: If what Adam Wilt says is true (I believe it is), why would you trust anything other than what you can ultimately see with your own eyes?

You wouldn't read Consumer Reports or Car and Driver and then purchase one car over another without test driving a few of them yourself would you? No. Now, you might read the review and say, "Well, I think I want a Prius or a Camry. But I definitely don't want a Hummer." But you still need to go test the cars yourself.

The analogy to camcorders may not be perfect, but c'mon: If you want to have an opinion about a video camera you have to see footage shot by the camera with your own eyes. That's all there is to it. And if you're in the market for a camera, you're going to have to do some shooting with any models you're considering if for no other reason than to check the ergonomics.

Camera tests are incredibly useful, but they're subjective. Tests are most useful if you do them yourself. Let the subjectivity be yours, not someone else's.

Point #3: In the end, remember: No one cares what camera you use.

I read those articles about camera shoot-outs closely just like anyone, but thinking about this stuff too much can divert my attention from the bigger picture. I know I'm probably not the only one. Let's take a step back. Consider:

Bennett Miller, Oscar-nominated director of Capote, shot his first movie (The Cruise) on Mini-DV. Craig Brewer, director of Hustle and Flow (two Sundance awards and two Oscar nominations) shot his first feature (The Poor and Hungry) on Digi8. Let me repeat that: Digi8. And beyond mainstream film, people like Sadie Benning and Michael Almereyda have made outstanding stuff using a Fisher-Price pixelvision camera. Meanwhile these films were shot on 35mm film. To overstate the obvious: It's not about the camera.

The great Walker Evans knew the score. In a fine essay by Ken Rockwell, Evans is quoted as having once said:

    People always ask me what camera I use. It's not the camera, it's -- ........and he tapped his temple with his index finger.

Now that's something worth meditating on.

Bubble, or the Three Faces of Steven Soderbergh

Most of the press (and blogging) on Steven Soderbergh's Bubble -- which will be released in theaters and VOD tomorrow, and on DVD Tuesday -- concerns the film's collapsed release window. Important stuff, no doubt, but in the interests of counter-programming I thought I'd give a few words to the fact that this is now the second feature (after Solaris) that Soderbergh has directed, shot, and edited. It's curious to me that few people have noted this fact, especially when it's so rare in mainstream Hollywood productions.

Personally, I won't be surprised if, at some point, Soderbergh eventually does everything for his films: craft services, acting in all the roles, hand-delivering the DVDs for Blockbuster to sell. Come to think of it, if he does everything then catering will be easy. He'll just take himself out to lunch.

Anyway, until that time comes, here's an interesting interview that was published in Film Comment around the time of Traffic, Soderbergh's first film as Director and Director of Photography. This exchange in particular suggests that the experience of making that film prepared him for "experiments" like Bubble.

Why did you decide to shoot the film yourself which entailed having to go to the trouble of qualifying as cinematographer?

    Because the conversations on the set -- "I want to do this," "Are you sure you really want to do that?" -- would have taken up hours.

Haven't you worked with a DP who trusts you implicitly at this point?

    I have, but part of it is that if the DP were anyone else, it would have been very hard for me to convince the people paying for the movie not to fire them, really. What the fuck is this guy doing? But if it's me, they assume there's a methodology there that's going to pay off. Are they going to call me and say, You've got to fire yourself? I've worked with some very good cameramen, and obviously I've learned a lot. I watched what they were doing very closely.

Will you go back to working with a DP in the future?

    I don't think so. It would be hard for me and for whoever I hired. It's a compromise in a way. There are numerous cameramen who are better than I am, and the opportunity to learn from them is lost. On the other hand, the speed with which I feel we are able to work and the intimacy it provides are worth it.

...

[I]n each film since [Out of Sight], your stock has risen higher.

    Let's put it this way. It's pretty clear to me that working as a director for hire agrees with me. I like it. The films that have come out of that, I personally like better than the ones that didn't. However, that other stuff will need to come out occasionally. My m.o. is gonna be, when that happens, to do it for $250,000 instead of $10 million. Which I can do without a problem. I literally have the equipment and I can go do that anytime -- and I will.

For full coverage of Bubble, check out the unofficial Soderbergh website (which he probably manages under yet another pseudonym).

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.

Japanese Manufacturing Techniques?

I've taught various aspects of filmmaking on and off for nearly ten years, and in this time I've seen a number of student filmmakers excitedly adopt a nearly Fordist model of production when it comes time to make their "big student film." Where they once wrote, directed, edited, and shot, now one person writes, another directs, another shoots, etc. Naturally, sometimes this produces a better film since, as students, they are able to focus their developing skills in the areas where each student is most experienced. But I'm troubled when the approach seems to be adopted for no other reason than because the filmmakers think it's the way "real films" are made.

This is, of course, completely absurd. Movies like Tarnation or Primer, for example, aren't less "real" because they were cut on iMovie or lit by their writer-director-actor-editor.

And even if these students equate "real" movies with studio films they're not seeing the whole picture. While it's undoubtedly true that large, task-specific crews and creative personnel were used to make Hollywood films during the Classic era, times have changed. Even making films for a studio today doesn't mean that, by definition, a filmmaker can't exercise principles of self-reliance. Steven Soderbergh and Robert Rodriguez, for example, shoot and edit their own films. Are they the exception? Sure. But the fact that there are exceptions at all says something.

If these students were making cars instead of movies would they consider Japanese manufacturing techniques any less legitimate than Detroit's way of doing things? This summer in the library I ran across Richard Schonberger's Japanese Manufacturing Techniques: Nine Hidden Lessons in Simplicity. Not being someone who's studied logistics and transportation most of the book was over my head. Still, reading about Kanban and Just-in-Time was fascinating.

One thing that caught my eye was a breakdown of production line techniques, which I photocopied before returning the book. Here's an excerpt:

Western Japanese
Top priority: Line Balance Top priority: Flexibility
Strategy: Stability - long production runs so that the need to rebalance seldom occurs. Strategy: Flexibility - expect to rebalance often to match output to changing demand.
Assume fixed labor assignments. Flexible labor: Move to the problems or to where the current workload is.
Need sophisticated analysis to evaluate and cull many options. Need human ingenuity to provide flexibility and ways around bottlenecks.
Planned by staff. Foreman may lead design effort and will adjust plan as needed.
Plan to run at fixed rate; send quality problems off line. Slow for quality problems; speed up when quality is right.
Conveyoritized material involvement is desireable. Put stations close together and avoid conveyors.
Buy "supermachines" and keep them busy. Make (or buy) small machines; add more as needed.
Run mixed models where labor content is similar from model to model. Strive for mixed-model production, even in subassembly and fabrication.

Obviously the metaphor isn't perfect. Both the Japanese and Western models are trying to produce identical versions of automobiles (i.e., what's under the hood of one 2006 Camry should be pretty much like the next) while, on the other hand, even the most "Fordist" studio approach still tries to produce different films (even if they're only nominally different, like Miss Congeniality and Miss Congeniality 2). Still, looking at it again, I think the Japanese approach has some relevance to the project of this blog: Ingenuity, a "foreman" that also leads the design effort, reliance on small machines. These are hallmarks of self-reliant filmmaking. Finally, in spite of all the above I've written, I should mention that I like some of Ford's ideas. After all, he's the guy that believed that factory workers should be paid enough to be able to purchase the good they were producing. That's one idea that, sadly, in this age of global "outsourcing", again sounds quaint and unconventional.

First Post: Declaration of Principles

The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. - Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Self Reliance"

The purpose of this weblog is to talk about and to encourage the practice of making high-quality films at a low-cost and/or with small-labor systems. A good term for this practice is "Self-Reliant Filmmaking."

Self-reliant filmmaking is interesting for at least two reasons:

Less interference, more production: Self-reliance can let filmmakers bypass in whole or in part the common gatekeepers of cinema production (i.e., studios, production companies, etc.) and exhibition (i.e., major distributors). Needless to say, not needing a corporation's permission to make a movie can free you to make more of them.

Handcrafting: We believe, quite simply, that the way something is made shapes the nature of the thing itself. Self-reliant films are by definition handcrafted, and this is a good thing for today's cinema, which needs as many human, soulful works as it can get.

While some might consider this naive, we see examples of self-reliant filmmaking throughout the history of cinema -- from the Lumiere Brothers' first films up to works by some of today's leading filmmakers, like Abbas Kiarostami and Lars Von Trier.

This weblog will discuss:

- Current and past motion pictures and/or filmmakers that are part of the self-reliant tradition

- Strategies and models for sustaining non-corporate, especially regional, filmmaking

- The distribution of this work, including the opportunities afforded by new technologies

- Tools of the self-reliant filmmaker, including the making, modifying, and/or hacking of equipment

In addition to the above, the weblog will serve as a forum for makers and critics to reflect on the philosophy, theory, ethics, and praxis of self-reliant filmmaking because, in all of its different embodiments, self-reliant filmmaking is both a practice and a principle.

Put another way, self-reliant filmmaking does not help the so-called "independent filmmaker," it is what makes a filmmaker independent.