XV. The Lessons (interlude)

Ben Hecht, one of the original Hollywood golden era geniuses who pioneered much of the screenwriting conventions we know today, did not have a very high opinion of tinsel town. He called it “an outhouse on the Parnassus”, refused to accept an Oscar in 1929 for “a piece of hack work”, then, so the legend goes, used the statue that was mailed to him as a door stopper. Later in life, after being showered with accolades by his film peers, he characterized movies as “an eruption of trash that has lamed the American mind and retarded Americans from becoming cultured people.”

I’m not going to lie, I had similar feelings about the entertainment industry at the beginning of this year. For years I had watched the entire town march in a mad frenzy into the “streaming revolution” only to realize— surprise, surprise— that streaming doesn’t make any money, consumers were now shunning the profit engines of theatrical and cable, and the entire industry had been taken over by bloodless pod, err, tech people. American TV, once the gold standard of episodic storytelling, was pulped in favor of pointless star-vehicle miniseries or endlessly dull two-season streaming shows designed to be forgotten the instant they are consumed.

Twenty years ago, on the same night on the same network one could watch The Sopranos and Deadwood, then switch over to Lost, and end with Battlestar Galactica. Now, our valiant captains of industry have destroyed the HBO brand, ABC (via Bob Iger’s unerring leadership) has bent the knee to fascists, and Ted Sarandos, a singular villain who weaponized the term “content”, spends more money in a year on derivative sci-fi hokum no one remembers than it would cost to fund medicare-for-all. Meanwhile, most people I know in the industry— talented, creative, passionate people— haven’t worked consistently in years, verticals are lowering the bar six feet fucking under, the CEOs know to do nothing but acquire, merge and fire thousands of workers, and the town feels hollowed out, the mood hopeless and disillusioned.

So ten months ago, I figured I’d scrape together all the money I had and make a movie completely independent from an industry being driven into the ground by a bunch of bean counters and psychotic billionaires who wouldn’t know what good entertainment is if their botox nurse injected it straight into their eye balls.

Because I still love movies. I still love this ridiculous industry. And David Zaslav be damned, I will continue loving it for as long as I am alive. I realized I can do more than complain. I can at least try to be part of an alternate path than can lead us out of Hollywood’s latest existential crisis.

For those new to this publication, I summarized the trajectory of my movie The Big Pay Off in this post. We have a few shoot days under out belt now. With the holidays coming up, our production has a bit of down time until next month. We are about half way through what I expect the entire production process to be. I thought now would be a good time to take stock of some initial nondē lessons learned.

Forget everything you know about how film shoots are traditionally done.

First and foremost, realize that if you are engaging on a nondē path, the road will be an arduous one. If you’re in LA and trying to shoot something outside of the traditional studio confines, you will bump against an entire infrastructure that seems designed to prevent you from being able to do so. You won’t be able to afford shooting permits but you also won’t be able to book certain locations without one. Insurance might be too expensive but it’s impossible to rent equipment without it. Actors might be interested in your project but their management or union status won’t allow them to participate unless you pay scale. None of these things are prohibitive in of themselves, just know that innumerable similar challenges will come up at every step of the way. Film school won’t teach you how to overcome these challenges, only outside the box thinking will.

People will doubt you

Traditional Hollywood is on its death bed. A decade from now, the studios will be nothing but IP-management corporations who will use their streaming services as Sora-like AI slop generation engines to enrich themselves without ever paying a creative again. For people interested in filmmaking, the future truly can only be one that is not dependent on these old studio structures. It sucks in many ways, I wish it wasn’t so, but that’s the reality. If you’re part of filmstack you’ve probably already come to this conclusion. While more and more people wake up to it every day and look for alternative paths, there are many people working in our industry who have not yet. If you talk to them about your nondē project, they will doubt or discourage you. Brush it off and keep it moving. You’re doing the right thing.

Commit to one idea and stick to it.

From the moment I started working on The Big Pay Off, I knew my budget would be $15,000. I was clear on the premise of the story and always knew I wanted to make a character-driven thriller that looked like a 1990s programmer. Every decision I’ve made over the last 10 months was informed by these three things. I never deviated from them. The worst thing you can do is being wishy washy about your goals, or not being clear about what kind of movie you’re making. It might seem dogmatic, but for a nondē project, it’s essential. Be strategic about your choices, think ahead. When I wrote the script, I planned two big set pieces in expensive locations I knew I would have to pay for, as well as one action set piece. I then populated the rest of the story around it with strategic choices for locations and action. Every decision on what to spend money on was calibrated around that. (We only have a certain amount set aside for insurance, props, wardrobe, etc.) Every movie needs certain visuals or sequences in order to be successful. It can even be just one specific prop or piece of set dressing on a single location shoot— figure out early on what it is, then let it trickle down to all your decisions down the line. It will make it much clearer for you what you can and should compromise on without damaging your vision.

Decide on a start date and stick to it.

It might sound scary or counter-intuitive, but the best thing for a no-budget movie is decide on a date you will start shooting, and then just do it. There is a James Mangold quote I brought up in an earlier post that is worth repeating here: “[Ted Hope said] that the way to do it is to decide on the day you begin shooting the movie and stick to it. You may not have a dime but you say, on May 3rd we begin production on [the movie]. The key is the commitment you make to yourself that you will not wait until the financing is all there. […] So even if you only have five hundred dollars, [the movie] has to begin May 3rd.” Mangold is mainly talking about budget here, but I found that working towards a set start date really gives the whole production purpose and makes it real in everyone’s mind. You can spend years spinning your wheels on a project without a start date. But if you know you need to start shooting on May 3rd, you will dispense with the bullshit and focus on what will make that happen. Don’t be crazy— give yourself a realistic timeframe. But when it’s time to start, roll those cameras no matter what.

Choose the right collaborators

This might sound obvious, but make sure you are on the same page with the people you choose for your crew from the outset. This connects back to committing to an idea and sticking to it. When I was looking for a DP, I had several meetings with different people and articulated exactly what my idea for the visuals were and what our budget constraints would be. It worked for some, it didn’t work for others, and I ended up hiring an absolute rockstar who not only shares my vision but expands it and finds all kinds of creative ways to make it happen, even when it seems impossible. The same goes for every other department head I have. The only way to connect with these people is to be clear and firm on your vision and set expectations from day one. It will mean some people you might want to won’t work with you, but the people who do will give it their all.

Trust your instincts

I had several moments during the last ten months where I almost scrapped the whole project because the doubts in my head were overwhelming. The script sucks, I cast the wrong people, we physically won’t be able to shoot the movie, I don’t have enough money, I’m a hack… These thoughts will come up again and again. Keep going. Like I mentioned above, this is an arduous road. But the view at the end is more than worth it. Not to mention:

People will be excited!

I used to be very precious about what I’m working on. I wouldn’t even mention to most people that I’m a writer. No one knew what my latest project was except very close friends and associates. With The Big Pay Off, I mention it to every one at every turn. Not only do I tell everybody what the movie is about— a teenage con man— I tell them that I’m financing it independently and filming it around town without permits on a tiny budget. I talked about doubters above, but on the flip side you would be astounded how supportive people are of such a project. It’s like the whole town (people not working in the industry very much included) has been so beaten down by the current IP and “content” regime, that a project that dares to color outside the lines is exciting to people. Not only that, a lot of them want to help! I’ve had perfect strangers offer me equipment, props, labor and locations for free just because they are excited to be part of the project. And I’m just a random guy with almost no track record! I’m not mentioning this because of the free stuff I got, although with my budget that has been crucial. I mention it because it makes the work even more meaningful.

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Through all this, I have regained faith in an industry I had all but written off a year ago. Not the industry as it currently exists, but the industry we are currently building from the ground up. Over the last ten months, I have met countless new friends and collaborators who are working towards a new paradigm that will allow creatives to express themselves freely and sustainably. It’s a privilege to work among them. It’s exciting! I am more creatively fulfilled working on this tiny little project than I ever have been before trying to become an industry titan.

If you’re on the fence about jumping into the nondē waters I have only one advice: take the plunge!

Even Ben Hecht admitted it in the end: “I have written many stories about Hollywood and made much fun of its clap-trap splendors. I have criticized its whirligig castrations of the Arts, its triumphs over sanity, and its coronation of buncombe. But in nearly all I have written there has been a lie of omission. I neglected to say that all these things I loved. How can you help doting on a town so daft, so dizzy, so sizzling; a town tumbling with the alarms and delights of a fairy tale book?”