How to get Overnight Distribution for your Film (in only seven months)

We filmmakers have heard all the stories: the movie screens at Sundance to an ecstatic standing ovation. Assistants run out of the theater, phones pressed to cheeks, excitedly yelling to their bosses. An offer comes in, then another, then a back and forth. By dawn, the bidding ends and the filmmaker walks away with $4 million and a three picture deal.

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Easy Peasy!

But of course, that is not how the journey goes for most filmmakers. Including us.

Last fall we had momentum. We had just returned from Marbella, Spain, with our second award in three festivals. We were about to screen in our home town at The Valley Film Festival, located less than a mile from where we shot most of our movie. We knew we were off to Austin Indie Fest in a few weeks. The time was right to sell.

So we brought in a big gun. We hired a Producers Rep, who acts as an agent to our film and meets with and negotiates deals with distribution companies. Kristen Moser was referred to us by one of our Executive Producers. She watched the movie, loved it, and we agree to terms. Between our L.A. premiere, the American Film Market in Santa Monica a week later, and Austin Indie Fest the following week, we would no doubt sell our movie quickly.

We took home the Best of Fest award from Valley, and three additional awards from Austin; we were on the rise! Kristen was a hustler, and giving me daily updates on all the companies she contacted. In fact, most of the companies she spoke with expressed interest, which surprised me. I didn’t think an ensemble dark comedy would have mass appeal, but people were intrigued. And many of them watched and liked it. And said they would prepare an offer.

It was only a matter of time…

…and then our first offer came in! I eagerly anticipated the details. What would be their MG? The MG is “minimum guarantee” i.e. the advance paid to the filmmaker. At last year’s Sundance Mindy Kaling received a $13 MILLION MG for her movie Late Night. Surely we would get enough to pay back our investors and make a little for ourselves, right? Surely $500,000 for a multi award-winning feature film isn’t too much to ask.

And then the offer came in…

$15,000. Well, that’s something. A little bit to start paying back our investors-

No. Not a minimum guarantee of $15,000. This company wanted us, upon signing, to WRITE A CHECK for $15,000 to earn access their distribution contacts.

Wait. What?

We quickly learned the hard truth about the independent film world. There are a LOT of indie films nowadays which means that content is easy to come by. And if you don’t have any stars-

-wait a second. Our star Catia Ojeda is a series regular on the hit Amazon show Just Add Magic! And Cynthia Addai-Robinson starred in the USA show Shooter and the Starz! shows Spartacus and Power, and starred opposite Ben Affleck in the movie The Accountant!

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“Can you believe Cynthia got cast in Closure and they didn’t invite me to audition? That’s crazy, Anna Kendrick!!!”

And Dee Wallace, come on, she was top billed in a little movie you might know:

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Pictured: A real life movie star, and E.T.

Unfortunately, these talented actors don’t count as STARS in the eyes of distributors (at least, not yet). Current A-listers sell movies, not great stories and great acting in award-winning films.

And this was the line we heard from many distributors, big and small. They all said there would be interest in our film, but not at blockbuster numbers.

Not all offers were as bad as the pay-to-play one that started us off. Most companies were very encouraging. Even big companies like Sony Pictures Classics had multiple people  watch enjoy our movie, but in the end (after nearly a MONTH of deliberating) felt that without stars there was little they could do to promote us properly.

So how did we go to nothing to having six offers at the same time?

It’s very easy: one offer had an expiration date.

In early July we received an offer from a decent distribution company. They were selective in that they had a relatively small roster of films and even rejected a larger budget film that Kristen was also representing. The offer had no up front money for us but also had limited expenses. Most offers come with expenses that range between $15,000 and $45,000. These are for costs incurred by the distribution company (like flying to Cannes to try and sell our film) and are taken out FIRST. Which means that it could take years for us to get our money back.

But of more importance: we could now go to all the other companies dragging their feet on making an offer, and tell them that we have a deadline and we need their offer now.

And they responded.

A second offer, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth came to us. None of them were amazing, but we now had leverage. And Kristen used it.

She constantly kept me updated on the phone, and multiple companies spoke with me personally to tell me why they were the best for our movie. One movie even gave us projections for how much we would make over a few years, and according to their estimate it looked like we would be able to pay back our investors in 2-3 years. The attention was flattering, except that no one was actually offering us any money.

But now they all wanted to hear our best offer, and beat it.

In the end, Indie Rights made us the best offer. Others couldn’t match the terms and length of contract, which is only three years. Some companies wanted our movie locked up for 11 years, and we’ve heard of companies that want the rights for 20 years! That said, Indie Rights says that 99% of their filmmakers renew after the end of the term, so we are happy for that flexibility.

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Our new home!

We signed in mid-August and had 30 days to deliver the film, which means not only sending them the movie to their specifications but a ton of supporting materials. It was steady work; the last week of delivery I was putting in at least four hours of work a day.

And then, one warm sunny afternoon in September, I walked into our distributor’s office in DTLA (Downtown Los Angeles to you outsiders) and dropped off a palm-sized one terabyte hard drive which contained over four years of work.

And that’s when things got REALLY busy.

(Coming next: our theatrical run!)

 

For the Love of Making Movies

The festival circuit has been a whirlwind recently. A week after our “10 Degrees Hotter” Award for Best Feature in The Valley Film Festival we were off to Texas for Austin Indie Fest.

Austin.jpgBut in between our path to distribution had begun. We hired a producers rep who overnight drastically increased our connections in the distribution world and she spent some of her time at the American Film Market in Santa Monica plugging our movie…

…and it worked. Companies requested to watch the trailer. And then requested to watch the full movies. Small companies mostly, but some really big companies. Like companies you know, companies that have made movies you love.

We were pinching ourselves that big wigs (and small wiglettes) were actually interested in our film, but we all know that there is nothing until you have a contract signed. After all, as the three of you who have been reading this blog since the beginning know well, we spent nearly four years working on making this movie before we received funding.

So we will easily distract ourselves with the next festival. And this time, we’re bringing an entourage!

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Catia and I on the plane with our assistants. They aren’t good at taking notes or messages and their script coverage is subpar, but they sure are cute!

A family adventure is a nice break, especially with more family in Austin to help out so we could go to movies. And Catia’s parents graciously rented a house for our entire family which gave us freedom to go to the fest, and still… you know, not totally neglect our children.

The fest, now in it’s second year, was a bit smaller than previous festivals. Turns out we were one of the larger budget movies in the fest, which certainly was a first for us. We watched as many movies as we could and mingled, all the while juggling calls from L.A. about distribution. Could it happen?

Also, could we win any awards and add more laurels to our poster? There appeared to be an award for almost everything, so the odds were even in our favor. There were even two awards in the category “Worst Film” which seemed like an odd thing to celebrate. Turns out, after talking to Matt the festival director, this wasn’t as insulting as it sounds. “Worst Film” was a category that people could deliberately submit their film, usually really low budget movies made quickly. A campy category, but still… I couldn’t imagine submitting my film.

We enjoyed the festival experience, bouncing from movie to movie and meeting fellow filmmakers, including an enthusiastic team from Seattle who raved about our movie. We got to town too late to see their feature, but they didn’t care, gushing on about how great ours was and that we would surely win awards. Very kind of them.

Award time came and Catia won her second Best Actress award and I took home Best Screenplay.

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Not too shabby for a writer husband and actress wife.

The award ceremony was long (Catia joked that there were awards for Best T-Shirt) and many people gave passionate speeches without worrying about being cut off. It was fun for all of us award-winners to get recognition, even if it meant little outside this room. In the huge world of show business we were a tiny bar in a rural, barely traveled village but the fire was warm and the company was great. We were filmmakers celebrating ourselves, and that is much needed as outside this little corner we were preoccupied with distribution, and deliverables, and legal documents, and searching for representation, and everything about movies unrelated to actually making or watching them.

And then came the award for Worst Film. The kid who won it bounded to the stage and tearfully (tears of joy) accepted the trophy, pleased that his movie got made and that he got some recognition. His speech was witty and heartfelt; he was happy to be there. Following that award was the Cult Classic Award, for a movie off the beaten path. The winner was our new friends from Seattle, who also gave an impassioned, tear-filled and hilarious speech about how they made their movie for $850 and how hopefully no one ever sees their Amazon purchasing history.

Both of these winners and the enthusiasm they expressed reminded me of why this all started. Of course we want success and maybe a little money and more job opportunities but in the beginning and the end (and hopefully much of the middle) we made this movie because we love movies and wanted to make one ourselves. We put it out in the universe and now it is here forever, or at least as long as movies exist.

Yes, we want the world to see it, of course. But on a smaller level, when dozens of people pull us aside at a film festival and tell us how much they loved our movie, that is just as important. So with that in mind, I am very thankful that we got to tell this story, and happy for any and every audience that gets to see it.

And there was one more award to be announced…

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Thank you Austin for welcoming and loving Closure!

Marvelous Marbella (and a look behind the glamour)

Spent a glorious week celebrating our European Premiere at the Marbella International Film Festival on the Costa del Sol in Spain. And as you can imagine, it was a tremendous experience. Hotel near the beach…

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The lovely view from my hotel room balcony.

…meals with views…

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A nice relaxing meal before our first screening.

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Just your run of the mill fancy restaurant on the beach.

…visiting new places…

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Me and co-Producer Laurence Leonard and behind us, the glorious view of Ronda.

…meeting filmmakers from around the world…

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Me and Ashley Barrie, the Scottish producer of the Spanish movie Luz.

…getting to enjoy Spain with some of our team…

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From left: Sarah Tubert, Marcelo Tubert, V. Lucas, Alli Joseph, me, Jane Ojeda, Gabriel Ojeda (not pictured, Laurence Leonard)

…lively entertainment…

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…and of course, watching movies…

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Hey, look at us outside the theater!

The festival gave us seminars, mixers, and parties that went late into the warm, breezy night with seemingly endless amounts of champagne and appetizers.

However, one thing was noticeably lacking:

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The above photo was taken three minutes before our second screening. Not pictured is the ONE audience member awaiting our film. By the time the film started there were 11 people in the theater, and EIGHT were from our group. That means three people outside of Team Closure watched the screening.

Fortunately, our first screening was better attended.

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A bar in the back of the theater, how cool is that?

We were lucky to have our first screening on the opening night of the festival, immediately following the kickoff reception. About 40 people attended the party and most took their champagne down the steps to the seating area.

And we were lucky. Many screenings had less than 20 people in attendance. I attended a few screenings with less than 10. One film, Morine, had two people in attendance and one was the director. And for the last movie I attended for most of the screening I was THE ONLY PERSON IN THE THEATER.

So how does this happen? Clearly the festival (in its 13th year) is not focused on audiences. The parties and networking was great, well planned, and heavily attended. People just weren’t interested in the film part of the film festival.

But should it matter? We make movies to share stories with people. Whether it’s watched in a theater or on your TV in the comfort of your home theater, we are nothing without an audience. While it is always fantastic to see the movie on the big screen, it’s somewhat depressing when there is no one in the audience.

Some film festivals have a built in audience. The Sundances and South Bys sell out theaters right and left. Those communities crave seeing new movies. But other festivals I guess are just about the parties and networking.

I certainly don’t regret going to the festival. It was a fantastic time. And it’s an extra laurel on the poster. I’m just bringing it up to show that this experience is very much an analogy for show business in general. We like to get dressed up and celebrate and hype ourselves, but frequently behind the scenes it is hard to get people to see your product. We promote the successes, and try to bury the struggles. And there are a LOT of struggles.

Oh,, and another reason there is no regret… we won an award! Well, more specifically, Catia won Best Actress!

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The 2018 Award Winners! And me, of course, accepting on Catia’s behalf.

The festival would have been an unforgettable experience even if we didn’t win an award, but taking home the hardware does make it a bit more of fun. And in the end, that is what everyone can see.

Oh, and as for the movie Morine which had less than 10 people combined at two screenings? In the center of the above picture is Tony Farjallah, a Lebanese filmmaker, who won Best Director! Tony was a very nice man and he and I had numerous conversations throughout the festival. I’m glad I got to know him a little bit.

And maybe THAT is the real reason we go to film festivals.

 

 

What goes up…

Less than a month ago we won Best Feature in the D.C. Independent Film Festival.

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The post screening talk back, featuring Producer Beau Genot, Catia Ojeda (Nina), Writer/Director Alex “Top of the World” Goldberg, Producer Katie Rosin, and Milena Govich (Prudence). Photo: Elias Savada

Three weeks later and I’m engaged in a bitter email feud with the head of a mediocre script competition about being unfairly judged in a contest where my EXCELLENT script didn’t crack the top 100.

Oh, and this competition ended LAST YEAR. I was notified of my rejection five months ago.

So… how does this fall from grace happen so quickly?

A show business life exists on a rollercoaster. The highs are awesome and the views are amazing (Look, I can see J. Law’s ankle tattoo from here!) but in an instant it all drops out from under you. Then you are in a dark tunnel, can’t even see your own shadow, and the heights are a distant memory.

YES the movie life can be glamorous, especially our time at the festival, but I share the following with you because it is hard. And there is often rejection. Relentless rejection.

The downward spiraling began at the fest, actually. Before leaving D.C. we found out about two other film festival rejections. Not a big deal.

Upon landing in Los Angeles we returned to normalcy. There is still a lot of administrative work to do on the movie. So we kept at it. We didn’t have any pending festivals in March, but there were five in April so it would be great to get things in order before then. But the downward slide continued…

  • I received a rejection from a prestigious writers conference for one of my plays. No shocker, but still disappointing. Even more disappointing: within an hour two writer friends were celebrating their acceptance to the same festival on Facebook.
  • Another film festival rejection: guess we aren’t going to TriBeCa.
  • Was notified that my ranking on a technical writing website (the bulk of my income for the past few years) has dropped from 4 stars to 3 stars. This will make a big difference in my income. I appealed the demotion. My request was denied.
  • Another film festival rejection: guess we aren’t going to San Francisco.

“Now wait a second,” I hear you say. “You’ve been in this business for a while. You know all about rejection. Stop yer bitchin’.”

Valid point, imaginary you. I signed up for this. And should be prepared. In fact, we’ve been doing some lobbying on our behalf. Yes, you could submit your film to a festival, do nothing, and wait until you get the response in your inbox. Or you can lobby. We still have nearly a dozen festivals pending and there are multiple festivals where we have networked heavily, utilizing personal contacts from investors, artists in our movie, and other supporters. One of our investors premiered her recent film at a certain Midwestern film festival where we applied. She set me up with the head of the festival and we have been corresponding. Our prospects look good. Great, even.

But as we wait for the official decision the slide continues…

  • I attended an acting class with the Antaeus Theatre Company where the students did scenes from one of my plays. For this I was paid a stipend. It was a great experience. So why is this part of my downward spiral? Because I realized that when my check for the stipend arrives it will be THE FIRST MONEY I HAVE MADE IN 2018. Which is because-
  • -I am unemployed. Other than my technical job listed before, which has been dry so far this year. My wife, forever a freelance actor, is unemployed until the next job comes in. But she hasn’t had a single audition in two months, right about the same time she told her agents she was pregnant. So if you are keeping score that’s two unemployed artists, and a mortgage, and a three-year-old in preschool, and another kid on the way.
  • Tax time. Pulling receipts together to meet with our tax preparer. Looking at all the submissions for competitions and festivals from 2017. While some are still pending, most were rejections.

And that’s when I noticed for one submission I did not receive the feedback I paid extra to receive. And that was the last straw. I hastily wrote the competition, waited a day, and angrily wrote again. The head of the competition cheerfully wrote me back and sent my coverage, which he claimed was sent two months ago. I didn’t receive it.

I read the coverage and it was glowing. The reader loved it. Gave only one slight note. I quickly wrote back, (almost) calmly explaining that this barely constitutes as feedback and since it was so glowing, how did it not make the top 100? His answer was less than convincing. Clearly, this competition was not worth my time or money.

But rather engage in a back and forth, I took a step back and realized that it IS a roller coaster. And I’m at the bottom. And things will turn up.

Then we got the email from that midwestern festival we were eagerly anticipating:

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Shit.

I guess this coaster still has some downhill before we climb up again. Out of five potential festivals we could attend in April, only one is still pending.

Keep pushing. Keep climbing. We won Best Feature at our first festival. We’ll get into another.

Right?

Our World Premiere

Well, here we are.

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A badge, a bozo, and a bourbon-based beverage (photo: Catia Ojeda)

It’s been a long journey to get here. No, I’m not talking about this entire process, I’ve said that frequently and you can read past posts to back that up. No, I’m talking literally getting here. We left our house at 6:30am and it took 90 minutes to get to LAX, then a struggle of getting three suitcases, two shoulder bags, a stroller, a car seat, a monkey backpack filled with kids books, and a three-year-old from the car to the shuttle bus to the terminal. Then a cross country flight (no nap for any of us), a frustrating 10 minutes of installing the car seat in my parent’s car, and then a rush hour drive to my parent’s place.

But we did have something to ease our travel woes: our first review. While I try not to hold too much stock in reviews (if you listen to the good ones, then you’ll listen to the bad ones) I was pleased that the critic understood what we were trying to achieve. He had positive things to say about the cast, the script, and the tone. Maybe there is an audience for us out there.

So here we are, a day later, attending our first festival. The D.C.I.F.F. team has been very gracious and responsive to all of our questions, so I was glad to finally put faces to names. Catia and I grabbed our quick dinner, watched a movie, and then went to the afterparty where we met more filmmakers. Milena Govich, who plays Prudence, joined us as well, as she also has a short film she directed in the festival. And it was great to hang out, have food and drink, and just talk film. An added bonus: since we were staying with my parents there was built in babysitting for our kid.

The next day was our premiere. Very excited not only to show the movie to an audience, but to people I know throughout my life as D.C. is my home town. Family, friends, even a few teachers were planning on coming. The big wrinkle: after days of pleasant sunny weather in the 60s, it got colder. And snowed. And then warmed slightly. And turned to ice. Some people starting texting and calling in their regrets. Would anyone show?

After leaving our kid with a sitter, my parents took us out to a great dinner before the screening. And as nausea set in, we made it to the venue. And there were people there! And a bar, and food, and live music as pre-screening festivity. It’s the Saturday night and the festival staff pulled out the stops.

We gathered our team for a photo:

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From left to right: Milena Govich (Prudence), producer Beau Genot, Catia Ojeda (Nina), composer Jamie Christopherson, me, and producer Katie Rosin. (Note to self: get the photo from the camera where we were all looking.)

In addition to me, Catia and Milena, our composer Jamie flew in from Los Angeles. Beau left his vacation early, departing from a cruise stop in the Caribbean. Katie drove down from New York with her family.

The prior movie and discussion ran long, so we continued eating, drinking and talking, which was a blessing as there were so many people from my past with whom I wanted to reconnect. And then, it was time.

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D.C.I.F.F. Executive Director Deirdre Evans Pritchard introduces our movie.

Beau, Catia and I took our seats in the back of the house. The lights dimmed. Here we go.

I have sat in the audience for many of my plays, ranging from full house opening nights to sparsely attended matinees, and it is always a gut punch. Some jokes don’t get a laugh as big as you want. Some don’t get laughs at all. There can be shifting of seats, indicating boredom. There can be stillness, indicating that an audience is on board. Usually, my nervousness ebbs and flows throughout the performance.

But tonight the nervousness vanished pretty quickly. The laughs came where I intended them. The audience was focused and into it. Beau and I looked at each other in the first few minutes and nodded; they were with us. When I grabbed Catia’s hand she didn’t recoil or tense up, a sign that she was comfortable with what she saw (as comfortable as one can be, seeing themselves projected 20 feet high). We were doing it.

Knowing that the Q and A would immediately follow the screening, I ducked out to go to the bathroom. On my way back in, I watched the crowd for a moment:

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Nina (Catia Ojeda), Franklin (James Andrew Walsh) and an audience’s gaze.

The movie ended. Applause. And the questions began. Comments were positive. Questions were insightful. I was pleased to see two former high school teachers of mine in the audience, my film teacher Bill Blackwell and one of my drama teachers, Frank Shutts. It meant a lot to me that they made it, and they certainly had a great influence in the work I make today.

And then, it was over. I fielded a few more questions and then a tall, thin guy tapped me on the shoulder.

“This is yours.” He handed me a box. In it, a hard drive. Our movie.

I thanked the projectionist for his great work (not everyone can accurately screen a movie, it’s harder than you think) and walked out to the lobby, clutching five years of work.

That next few days consisted of viewing features, dozens of shorts, attending a brunch and a closing night party. I only saw four of the ten narrative features so I had no idea if we would get an award, but I naturally liked our movie the best.

And then, the announcement.

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My first acceptance speech. Don’t let the shocked face fool you: I’m thrilled. (Photo: Elias Savada)

A shock. Pure joy. Our first festival. Our first award: Best Feature. A great start to our festival tour. I gave a little speech. When I finished Beau grabbed the mic and THANKED THE FESTIVAL. Oops. Note to self for the next time. If there is a next time. God, I hope there’s a next time!

The celebration was short-lived. The party ended at 10:00pm. The next morning we were up at 4:45am to fly back to L.A. Back to the grind and the hustle. Back to more festival submissions. Back to writing more scripts. Back to finding more work. But this helps:

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Looking forward to the next steps on our journey. Stay tuned!

And with the quickness it was over.

Our screening day approaches. This Saturday.

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Put down that book and get dressed, we have a premiere to go to!

This means that last week we had to finish the movie. We had to color correct, add the credits, place music under the credits, create a DCP (which is how the movie projector reads the film and puts it on the screen) and send the hard drive off to Washington D.C.

And of course, there were complications. Point 360, where we were doing color correction and the DCP, would proof the audio files from Stand Sound, our audio facility, and lines of dialogue would be missing, or there would be original temp music playing simultaneously with the permanent music, or other oddities would occur. I had to zip back into Hollywood and do some audio correcting, then back to Burbank for more proofing. Again, I was fortunate to live so close to Point 360. The producer calls, and I’m there in five minutes.

Finally, everything was straightened out, a DCP was made, and we went back into our edit room one final time.

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Our edit room. Since this facility lives and breathes movies and TV, the decor is refreshingly rock and roll. Lots of rock art on the walls, and every edit suite is a different iconic album.

It was a small group: me, Beau, Senda the D.P., and Justin Kelley, our intrepid Unit Production Manager, who hasn’t seen one frame of this movie but it’s always good to get fresh eyes in the room.  And for 90 minutes we sat and watched the complete movie for the first time.

There are still some mistakes; we noticed a misspelled name, there is the wrong music during the closing credit roll, and a few other tiny gaffes that no one will likely notice, but I noticed. For the premiere, what we just watched is what will be screened (there is no time to make changes now).

We walked out of the room, blinking in the midday Valley sun. Well, I realized I forgot my sunglasses so I walked back in and alone, looked around the edit room.

This was it.

Even though there might be further tweaking, this is basically the last time in the room on Closure. It really hit me; I put in nearly five years of work, with the bulk of it happening in the last twelve months. Three weeks of shooting, and then nearly ten months of editing. And once I walk out of the room, this chapter is over.

I soaked it in and briefly considered stealing all the snacks on the table, grabbing the bottled waters, the comfy rolling chair, holding on to ANYTHING to keep it going. (I have hoarded food before; Catia and I are still using the large bottle of hot sauce that was on the craft service table back in April). But it’s time. Time to walk out of the room. Time for the next phase.

So tomorrow Catia and I get on a plane (with our three-year-old “assistant”) and cross the country to attend our festival premiere. Hopefully we can make changes in the coming weeks, but for now it’s time to soak in the festival experience and have a good time. It’s time to show our baby off to the world.

 

Heading Towards A Finish Line

It’s Tuesday. Our movie screens in 11 days. There is so much to do.

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Photo courtesy Katie Rosin

It has been a lot of fun receiving congratulation texts, calls and emails. And I’m getting excited for friends, family, and even some cast and crew to see our movie on the big screen. But we still have one slight hurdle to jump:

We have to finish the movie.

I know what you’re thinking. “Why would you submit your film to a film festival if it’s not finished?”

It’s a common practice. Film festivals are used to looking at unfinished cuts and can anticipate what the final product will look like, just as long as your running time is very close to final, and your music is in the same ballpark. Since September we have submitted our unfinished version, which was missing audio mix, score, color correction, VFX, and contained many temporary tracks in place of score and permanent placed tracks.

In the past few months we have finished our audio edit, approved almost all of our VFX, put together all our music, and are halfway through with color correction. But the clock is ticking. And there is no better deadline then actually having to screen the music in front of a live, ticket-buying, audience of 250 people.

This afternoon I will return to our lush Burbank post-production facility (they have snacks within reach of my greasy fat fingers! Fresh berries! And someone to get us hot or cold beverages whenever we want!) where we are in the final days of color correction.

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Another day, another edit bay.

Color correction involves going shot by shot, cleaning up the images. For example, if the streetlight in the background is too distracting, we can turn down the intensity. Or, if an actor has a zit poking out through the makeup, we can zap it. Or it can be big picture stuff like deciding how blue we want the sky, or the ocean.

It’s time consuming, but at the hands of our colorist Jake Weathers we are moving along. It helps to have our Director of Photography Senda Bonnet sitting in. She knows far more than I do about coloring (and filmmaking in general). My mantra for this process has always been “surround yourself by people who know more than you.” And that mantra has been working out for me.

But we are under the gun.

The plan is to finish color correction tomorrow, sync up the audio mix, work in the VFX, then add the credit roll and music to go under it. We on the production team have been scrutinizing our credits, double-checking all names. Getting information wrong in the credits would be embarrassing (and expensive to fix) so the time is now.

Once everything is imported we need to watch it in its entirety and make sure there are no glaring errors or admissions. Then we need to create DCP (Digital Cinema Package) which is a collection of files on a hard drive. These files, combined, make up the movie. The hard drive needs to be shipped to Washington D.C. this Friday so they have plenty of time to test screen it.

Going to be a busy week. Let’s hope we make it.