Category: Take Me Home Blog

WORST-CASE SCENARIO
You know your friend called you eight times last week. The red light’s flashing on the machine. You know it’s him. It’s clearly your turn to show some love, yet another week goes by. The obligation to call begins to haunt you. Had you called that first week, there’s no way you’d be this plagued by guilt. But by now it’s clear… the guilt has won. You stop checking your machine. You stop answering your phone, entirely. Two weeks later, there you are: in a corner of the apartment, eating the last of the Cheez-Its and conversing with the blue gnome you’ve discovered living in your sock drawer.

MAYBE NOT THE GNOME
Okay, may it hasn’t gotten that bad. But still, I’ve been playing the role of “bad friend” to all of you for the past two months. And you deserve an explanation.

NO, I’M NOT SEEING ANOTHER BLOG.
It’s just that ours is so damn complicated for me. You could say I’m not the blogging type (no pun intended). You see, it takes me THREE HOURS to write one blog. This may overwhelm many of you, considering the tripe you’ve been subjected to in the eight months I’ve been writing for this website. But it’s true. Three hours for maybe five paragraphs. What’s even more baffling is that I still have no idea who’s reading this besides my father. I feel like the words are getting sucked into a void. And yet, I’m a man of my word. I have no intention of giving up on Quick Stop Entertainment staff nor the three, possibly four fans (dad included) who’ve given their valuable time to reading this blog.

A SOLUTION
As a result, I’ve decided to rearrange the format of this blog. Starting in February, I will begin podcasting my tripe. You heard it correctly, I’m letting go of the writing reigns to focus on an AUDIO PODCAST for QSE. My aim is to get more entries out to all of you wonderful people on a more consistent basis. I’ll also be able to get the rest of the Take Me Home cast and crew involved. Rather than listening to my drivel alone, you’ll be able to hear from the likes of Mike Hobert (Lonnie on Scrubs and the producer of Take Me Home) and Jeff Seibenick (director of Advantage Hart, our film’s editor, and the most aggravating man you’ll ever love). I think you’re going to dig the results. It’s better for you, it’s better for me. Gnomes be damned!!

TALK AT YOU SOON!

-Sam Jaeger

AND NOW, a final look back at the moments, sights, sounds, and events that touched us in places we don’t like to talk about.

BEST MOVIE: That one with Toby Keith. Where he plays a country singer? And sings country music? That one. Definitely.

BEST ALBUM: That one by Toby Keith. Where he plays a country singer? And sings “country” music? That one. Definitely.

BEST TV COMMERCIAL: The self-referential ad. Beginning with Head-On and the NFL Ads about coming up with MORE NFL ads, this was the year advertising executives decided to one-up themselves by spending 30 seconds of our valuable time talking about their LAST commercial. Really makes you want to run out and buy some commercial space, doesn’t it?

BEST OF THE INTERNET: lonelygirl 15. Thanks to the kinetic advancement of technology, we can watch a scripted blog about a teenage girl sitting in her room talking about her boyfriend and stuffed animals. The Citizen Kane of minutiae. I sifted through these blogs today, looking for the episode where she stabs her mother in the heart with a spork. No such luck. Just a girl pretending to be a girl with not a whole lot to say. Way to champion this one, nerds.

BEST FRUIT DRINK: Powerade. Because it has no fruit in it. And because of the blue bottle with the oblong nipple that makes you look around to see if anyone’s watching.

BEST DRINK AT WORK: Cider with rum. Lots of it.

BEST SCIENTIFIC QUANDARY: How does SO much honey drip down the side of the squeezable bear? I close that thing real good.

BEST REASON TO CARE ABOUT CELEBRITIES: Because they’re just like us. Only richer. And more selfish. Oh, and they get free stuff all the time. For being like us. Only richer.

BEST MUSIC IF YOU LIKE CRAP: Paris Hilton’s “Paris”.

BEST VIDEO GAME: I’d say Gears of War, but it doesn’t involve college football.

BEST PUSSY: See photo

BEST RACIST: Michael Richards. Take that, Mel.

BEST ATTEMPT TO SEEM LESS RACIST: “See, when I said ’50 years ago you would have been hung upside down with a fork up your ass’, I meant to say ’80 years’ instead of fifty, and ‘crucifix’ instead of fork.”

BEST REASON FOR A FACELIFT: “For myself”

BEST CURRENT U.S. PRESIDENT: Gerald Ford?

BEST DECISION BY THE PRESIDENT: Admitting he was wrong for appointing Taylor Hicks “Chancellor of Gettin’ Down”

BEST REASON TO STAY HOME: Terrorism! Oh, I meant television. About terrorism.

BEST WAY TO REFUEL FREEMASON CONSPIRACIES: Hire Tom Cruise as spokesman.

BEST REASON TO LIVE ON YOUR FRIENDS COUCH: No bills in their mail for you, and every once in a while you get to pretend you’re asleep while his girlfriend walks around in a robe. Unemployment never felt so full-time.

BEST PICK-UP LINE: “I’d like to date you, go on a nationally syndicated show to talk about you, jump on a couch when describing you, marry you, impregnate you, and have a mutant baby with you in an effort to shroud my desire to have sex with guys. Cool?”

BEST FORGIVEN DRUG ADDICT: Robert Downey Jr. The perennial fave.

BEST HOAX ON THE AMERICAN PEOPLE: The phone that plays all your music. Back to the drawing board, fellas.

BEST CONVERSATION: When your friend is telling you a story while on her Blackberry. “And then, you are not going to believe this, Greg…(typing)…um, he said to me…(typing)… he was like…(typing)…so totally…(typing)…oh, I have to take this. Hold on. (into Blackberry) Hello? Oh my gosh, you are not going to believe what Greg said to me…”

BEST SPORTS STAR/ROLE MODEL: Heisman Trophy winner Troy Smith

BEST REASON TO LOSE FAITH IN HUMANITY: Terrell Owens

BEST REASON TO HAVE FAITH RESTORED: Walmart announces plans to incarcerate its Chinese textile workers for taking home too much lint on clothing.

BEST LOOKING SIX-FOOT DOG: Toby Keith in that one movie.

UGLIEST BABY: Terrell Owens

BEST REASON TO BELIEVE 2007 IS GOING TO BE BETTER: Sequel to Stallone’s classic Rhinestone finally in the works!

-Sam Jaeger

(NOTE TO MY READERS: I apologize for the “hiatus”. No, I was not sipping wassail high in the Alps somewhere, but working fruitlessly on auditions and a rough edit of the short. It shall not happen again.)

SECOND OPINIONS
Parked at a cafe smack-dab in the middle of Hollywood, I peeled open an LAWeekly to the film section. If you’re unfamiliar with the newspaper, LAWeekly is the largest free newspaper in Los Angeles, much like The Village Voice in NYC. I was curious what critics thought of Darren Aronofsky’s latest mind-bender, The Fountain. After two paragraphs, it dawned on me: I was reading not a review, but an indictment:

“In truth, The Fountain is closer to one of those vomitous fantasy romances, like Somewhere in Time or this past summer’s The Lake House, where the two lovers are so destined to be together that neither time nor space nor plain old common sense can keep them apart. The only viewers who risk having their minds blown are those who didn’t have much of one to start with.”
–Scott Foundas, LAWeekly
Wednesday, November 22, 2006

OOH, NO HE DIDN’T! Listen, you KNOW it’s a good review when the writer takes the time to insult not only the film, but the film’s audience. Go git ’em, Scott!! Being part of that audience, I can’t help but wonder what was behind Mr. Foundas’s onslaught. Like the Michael Richards meltdown a few weeks prior, you have to imagine there’s some bad blood there. Maybe not between Foundas and Aronofsky, the director, but between Foundas and Aronofsky’s exalted concepts of love.

BAD LOVE
I’ll be the first to admit that the “I did it for all for love” storyline isn’t my favorite; it’s usually the most heavy-handed and often over-reaching. I still believe that no better love story exists than in The Empire Strikes Back. There’s charm, there’s chemistry, then Han gets frozen in carbonite. THAT’S a love story. But if you think The Fountain is just a love story going in, you’d be wrong.

The problem with professional criticism is that there is no constant. For example, the cumulative critic site Metacritic averaged out reviews for The Fountain at about the same level as those received for Saw III and Open Season and way below The Ant Bully. So, according to the reviews, we should run out and see a hugely disappointing star-fest like Bobby rather than the most ambitious film of the year.

Trying to review The Fountain like all other films is a waste. Two minutes into the movie, you understand that this is not your typical “vomitous” love story. It’s more like the director’s cut of your most lucid dream: it may not make perfect sense, but coming back to the real world is a bit of a letdown.

So why was Scott Foundas so miffed about this time-spanning, love-knows-no-bounds escapade? In the same article, he gave a warmer reception to another romance, Flannel Pajamas, about the long and slow demise of a relationship. Which is more true to life? Can I say, “C. All of the above”?

It’s one thing to cut down a movie for missing its mark, but for sharing a dissenting view? Of LOVE?! I have an image in my head of Mr. Foundas in an argument with his spouse:

MRS. FOUNDAS: Hey, Hon. I’m glad you’re home.

SCOTT FOUNDAS: WHY? So you can suffocate me with your lofty expectations? YOU SICKEN ME! Oh sure, you’re glad now. What about in a year, when I’ve gained a little weight? When the paper fires me? When it all goes to pot, you’re saying you’ll be right there by my side?! OH, SPARE ME!!

MRS. FOUNDAS: Did you pick up the dry cleaning?

SCOTT FOUNDAS: I AM NOT A MACHINE, TINA!!!

TIS THE SEASON
Yes, love hurts. Yes, relationships are work. But the people I know who look at love with optimism are, surprise, surprise, happier in their relationships. So here’s a perfect idea for the yuletide. Let us all be young, ignorant lovers. Let us, this holiday season, act like we did before the weight of the world crushed our shoulders. Leave Mr. Foundas’s musings of emptiness for January. They have no place here. Pass the wassail! Let’s hear it for the hopeless romantic!

-Sam Jaeger

I was washing dishes this morning when I heard the news on the radio. In some unspecified Los Angeles hospital, at some unspecified time of night, director Robert Altman died. He was 81 years old. In his parting, he leaves with us a body of work that pushed the limits of filmmaking.

TWO JOURNEYS
Robert Altman was, and will forever be, an exception to many rules. Practically every film released by a major studio since the success of Star Wars has followed The Hero’s Journey first defined by Joseph Campbell; a young man/woman must accept a task and ultimately overcome personal and situational obstacles to succeed in the end. But Robert Altman never seemed to play by these rules of cinema. His work wasn’t about the ordinary person against extraordinary odds, but the ordinary person against common odds. His films are as close as cinema has come to an honest depiction of life.

Beginning with Countdown in 1968, it was clear Altman had a different focus. The film, starring Robert Duvall and James Caan, was a documentary-style drama that revolved around the first mission to the moon and the toll it took on both the astronauts and their families. The film, though not considered among his best, indicated two very important characteristics of the films to come. Firstly, the film was topical; America was to land their first man on the moon later that year. But it was the documentary style, the attempt to catch characters in the middle of struggles rather than from beginning to end, that Altman quickly perfected. Two years later he would shadow the Vietnam war with the anti-war classic M*A*S*H.

THE (anti)ANTI-WAR FILM
The film, set during the Korean War, is as black a comedy as you’re likely to come across. No “Hero’s Journey” here. No scenes of precious indignation, no long-winded speeches about the atrocities of battle. The people of this film are too busy creating havoc with episodic parties and pranks. Isn’t this a more honest depiction of how we as human’s cope with life during wartime? Most other films about war, no matter how light their mood at the onset, eventually culminate with some remarkably “honest” realization for the hero (see also Good Morning Vietnam). That, for the first time, the hero (and thusly, we the audience) get the point: that war is hell. We see bodies on stretchers. The carnage left after artillery fire. What’s the brutally honest climax of M*A*S*H? A fixed game of football featuring heavily doped athletes. Offensive? Possibly? But… accurate?

One of the other constraints of The Hero’s Journey is that the hero/heroine is called to duty and mentored throughout his quest by an old wise man (see also Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and of course Mr. Miyagi). What’s Altman’s answer to that? Quite possibly Jack Lemmon’s character from Short Cuts, an estranged father who tries to gain his son’s sympathy by explaining his infidelity. He’s clearly the elder statesman of the film, but all he can offer the hero is shameless rationale that borders on denial.

DECADE (AND A HALF) UNDER THE INFLUENCE
While Altman may have faltered through most of the late eighties and early nineties, it had more to do with the enormous shift in cinema than with the director’s vision. His film adaptation of the beloved cartoon Popeye was a risky failure. Altman was exploring many new creative avenues… perhaps too many. His film was a musical about a popular NON-musical cartoon icon. It was Altman’s largest budget. It was also a critical and commercial failure. Popeye, along with Coppola’s Apocalypse Now and Michael Cimino’s notoriously bloated Heaven’s Gate tightened the reigns on 70’s filmmakers. Because of these costly endeavors, the studios took back the power from directors and have retained that control ever since. Altman would never helm a major studio film again. It may have taken the next decade for Altman to come to terms with these constraints. In the end, was worth the wait.

In the early 1990’s, Altman returned to critical acclaim with the searing black comedy The Player. Born out of the creative turmoil he faced in Hollywood following Popeye, The Player was a sinister look at the inner-workings of an industry that had given him every freedom and inevitably taken them all back. What was most notable about the film’s reception is that its champions were, coincidentally, Hollywood insiders themselves. Did this in some respect pave the way for the self-congratulatory work to come (how much fun has this industry gotten out of patting its own back? See also HBO’s over-hyped and under-amusing Entourage).

EAVESDROPPING
It can be said that Altman was not meant for the big-budget film, and vice versa. His films didn’t hit you over the head with lessons to be learned, nor did they flourish due to grand camera moves and roaring musical scores. It’s comical to imagine him at the helm of a Gladiator or Troy. Those situational “epics” didn’t seem to interest him in the slightest. It wasn’t the grand that fascinated Altman, but the mundane. His films are the conversations you hear from the next table over, the ones you probably shouldn’t be listening in on, but can’t help yourself.

If a person approaches an Altman film expecting to see anything BUT a Robert Altman film, he or she is likely to be confused and possibly anxious. This may be what kept his audiences relatively small, but also incredibly loyal. Altman didn’t reveal his themes, nor did he indicate where these particular stories would lead. He didn’t seem concerned with where he was taking you. It was never about the destination to Robert Altman, but the journey itself.

That was the kind of journey Altman knew to be endlessly more rewarding.

-Sam Jaeger

After two weeks of sleepless nights, I seem to have boundless energy. I think I may have tip-toed past the realm of exhaustion and entered the one labeled “giddy euphoria”. Maybe it’s relief. Denial. Maybe it’s the veal parmigiana I had at “Monte Carlo”. Regardless, my first project as director has wrapped principal photography and the weight has been lifted. And to further underline my derangement, I’ll say this: I didn’t want it to end.

THE MONEY SHOT

But let me ‘splain further. At 5:35 tonight, we were playing catch up. During our four days of filming, there were several scenes, beats, etc. that I felt were missing. As a result, we hurried over to a generic location inside Slate Run Park in central Ohio to snag those ingredients we needed to enhance the telling of “Untold”. As we cut on what I thought to be our last shot for the film shoot, I realized what was missing: our last shot for the film. THE last shot. The one that makes us feel all warm inside. That leaves us feeling like maybe the world isn’t such an armpit afterall, that just maybe there’s some cause for celebration in this sad and fragile world. Yeah, that last shot. Didn’t have it.

Now my intention all along had been to run back to this spot where we shot an earlier sequence; our lead character lost his hat while dashing down a hill. I thought “wouldn’t it be swell to have him pull his old body back up that hill, grab his hat, and saunter on over the horizon. Magical, si? Si.

But no, that location was a good hour from where we were tonight, and we had about ten more minutes of decent light before dark.

MAYBE IF I DON’T SAY ANYTHING, EVERYTHING WILL HAPPEN THE WAY I WANT IT TO.

Secretly I had hoped that Ed Vaughan, our lead, would chime in with a, “don’t worry, Sam. Wherever you need me to be at this time tomorrow night, I’m there.” Clearly, that wasn’t about to happen; this man had already given up four days of his time for no money. He had run through forests illegally for three straight days. He had walked into somebody’s front door who was not aware there was a film being shot on their property. Clearly this man had sacrificed enough for our little cause.

So I had to think of something excruciatingly fast. I thought of looking for another hill just like the one in our dashing sequence. Not a hill in sight. I thought of using footage we already had. Nothing sprang to mind. So, with about five good minutes of light left on our last day of shooting, I threw down the camera in the grass, we framed our actor up, and we shot him disappearing into the blades of grass. The sky above him fanned out an array of grays and blues, and in the distance a pale pink. It was marvelous. It was the most fun I have had on this entire project.

This project, as I’m sure you may have guessed from my last blog, was not all that fun for me. I had surrendered to panic. I was fondled by defeat. I was sodomized by sullenness (sorry, too subtle?). Here all these people were giving their weekends, even their weekdays to this project. And all I wanted to do was wriggle myself out of the responsibility of any of it.

But then we got that shot. That one that made me feel all funny inside, like the first time you french kiss (am I doing this right? Is this wrong? Is this one of the Ten Commandments?). That shot that made me feel like a pro. Like an old pro. Like maybe I’m not meant solely for great disasters.

What exactly I’m going to do with this newfound self-respect is anyone’s guess. Who am I kidding. Most likely, I’ll go back to the old ways. My comfort zone. To feeling like I should just stick with acting and wait for the SAG checks to float down from on high. Not to mention, I DO still have to edit this thing. To sift through all the mistakes. The soft focus. The weak lighting. The aspirations that fell a tad short.

But until then… giddy euphoria.

Ignorance, afterall, is bliss.

-Sam Jaeger

Author’s note: The author would like to apologize for his romantic musings below, and especially for the seemingly deliberate unfunny nature of the following blog. He attests that he tried to “bring the funny”, but was dismayed to find that “the funny was not to be brought’n”. He appreciates his readers’ understanding on this matter. “His readers” being his father and possibly someone looking for the Scrubs blog.

UNTOLD: DAY ONE

Day one should have been two. Possibly three. Alas, in an effort to consolidate our shooting schedule, and also because of the horrendous weather Ohio’s having, our first day of shooting Untold was a mild disappointment. And I must admit, the blame should fall on my shoulders. Why? Quite possibly because that’s how I wanted it.

YOU CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MUCH OF A BAD THING

I’m drawn to failure. Hooked, actually. Most people that know me would assume that I must be content with where I am in my life; I’ve got a wonderful fiance, a steady acting career, and a one-eyed cat that adores me. Not exactly “failure” by its definition. But, just maybe, that’s why I’m drawn to it.

I made several major errors when conceiving our film shoot. We didn’t get our first shot off until 2 1/2 hours after call time. On any film shoot, that’s bad news. In my effort to keep my film crew sparse, I neglected to hire an experienced assistant director. While the person I hired was incredibly supportive, she’d never AD’d before. Without a solid AD, a film set gets bogged down. Quickly. The director wants a better frame, the actor needs another take, the cinematographer needs more time to light; it’s a mess. And though the footage we did get looks remarkable, it’s the footage we didn’t get that I’m stuck on.

On the drive home from shooting yesterday, I looked back on all of this. All of my successes, all of my failures. My urge to contribute something as a filmmaker. And I asked myself, possibly aloud, “Is this what you wanted? All this work, wearing eight different hats, loading all these responsibilities onto my back only to carry out half of them? Does this make you happy?” And on a day like monday, when we only got through half of our shot list, what’s the answer to that? How can we celebrate our acheivements when our failings follow so close behind?

I have the rest of the week to get this film in the can. I went to bed at 9:30 last night, something I don’t think I’ve done since elementary school. And as I lay there, the different versions of the film washed over me; the one I had dreamed, and the one I had tried to make to serve that dream. It seems I’m still holding onto the belief that eventually the two will merge. But what causes us to believe in that way? What compels us to hope, however irrational it may be? Whatever it is, I am filled of it. Right now, it is just enough to keep me going. Just enough to keep me ahead of this failure I seem to crave. Just barely.

-Sam Jaeger

I SHOULD HAVE SHINGLES BY NOW.
With ten days until we shoot, I’d like to take this opportunity to give myself a little pat on the back. You see, ordinarily my body would be rejecting such stress, forcing me into the hospital with a number of rare ailments found only in lab rats. Once, as I think I mentioned in an earlier blog, I got shingles while laboring over a screenplay. But not this time. Why? Because I have decided to pretend making a movie is fun.

MAKING A MOVIE IS FUN.
Or at least it can be with the right psychotherapist. That is, with the right outlook on this process, you TOO can avoid both a mental and a physical collapse. Example: rather than worry about something as trivial as whether or not you have insurance to cover the $20,000 worth of rented equipment, focus instead on the fact that you’ve already cast your film! OR, rather than worry about how to operate a camera you’ve never held in your life, focus on the fact that your storyboards look very pretty! See? It’s all in how you approach filmmaking. I myself have chosen to approach it with a sparkling delusion.

TO BOLDLY GO WHERE aww, who the hell am I kidding?
The one drawback of boldly making a film on your own is that you have to be bold throughout. You can’t get halfway in and pass off the duties to a studio exec. How are you in the process? Have you planned your film? Called your crew? Polished your script, and etched your storyboards? Or are you losing boldness by the pound? If doubt is ever going to creep in, it’s going to happen now.

FRAILTY, THY NAME IS FILMMAKER
To share from my own experience, the night before we shot Advantage Hart, I had a minor breakdown (and I say “minor” only to shield my feminine side). We were $6000 over budget for all of our equipment rentals, and facing the likelihood of shutting the picture down. Kate Bosworth and the rest of our talented cast had just left my house after an awkward rehearsal, and my co-writer/co-producer Mike Hobert and I were trying to make sense of our gluttonous budget. With our director Seibenick, our cinematographer Terrence Hayes, Mike and I all huddled in our make-shift office, I remember the idea of calling all 100 people involved to tell them the movie wasn’t happening. Have you ever gone into the dentist’s office for x-rays and they drape that thick, heavy bib over your chest? That’s what it felt like. I’m not ashamed to admit, I think I shed a few tears. “Just tell me we’re going to make a great film.”

The next morning Mike and I called all of the rental houses and told them we couldn’t pay the price they were asking. In three hours we shaved that $6000 off our budget.

AS AMERICAN AS APPLE PIE*
What could be more American than filmmaking? Hollywood gets thrashed by the media for having corrupted our culture, but I think that’s unfounded. Filmmaking is about entrepeneurship; our fervent belief that we can make something out of absolutely nothing. We can make a sound stage look like a space station. We can make Orlando Bloom a Kentuckian. Even more, we can rise out of our social class. We can dream the impossible dream. Against enormous odds. With nothing but a few tools, a singular idea, and the will to see it through.

*(Apple pie, by the way, is not American. It was invented in medieval times in europe and the recipes were brought over during colonialism. The fact that we’ve stolen and claimed it as our own simply makes it MORE American, doesn’t it?! Like that time we took that land from the Indians. What was that called? Oh yeah: “AMERICA”!!)

ONWARD!!!
So run out now and continue this bold pursuit. You have the American Dream to uphold, you see?! And if you have to steal locations… remember apple pie. If you have to steal dialogue from another film… remember apple pie. Should you find yourself in a make-shift office surrounded by your friends, shedding a tear for your dwindling aspirations, remember the soldiers of WWII who, when asked by reporters why they were going to war, often responded: “For mother and apple pie!!!”

EPILOGUE
On Sunday, Seibenick, Mike and I are getting together to whip up a film. In one day. Running around Los Angeles. By Monday, we’ll have a finished short. Possibly two. Just like we often did in highschool, when filmmaking was just a couple of kids pretending. Before it became something impractical: a math equation. A headache. When it was still a dream.

-Sam Jaeger

I’m in a quandary. I found a beautiful location for the film I’m shooting at the end of this month. It’s a farm built in the 1800’s and kept completely intact. No busy nearby roads, no streetlights, no modern renovations. It is, for all intents and purposes, perfect. It is also, however, part of a state park. “How is that a problem,” you may ask. Well, after all my chatter about starting a short film and seeing it through by the end of this month, I may be running into some time constraints. Or even worse…money constraints.

RESPONSIBILITY BLOWS
It does. It blows big. Because when you are responsible, you have to do things “by the book”. Which means “legally”. Which means “expensively”. As I said last week, you can go out and shoot a film for $150 if you so desire. I’m aiming to keep this film under $1000, and that was looking fairly possible up until yesterday when I discovered my dream location was under state supervision. What does that mean, exactly? INSURANCE. That’s right. That damning word. It’s a terrible word, isn’t it? It oozes off the tongue. It may be the least attractive word in the English language. Need proof? Try making out with somebody. In the middle of it, say something dirty like “I want you to cover me the way insurance does.” Watch the pheremones fly.

AWW, DO I GOTTA’?
No, I don’t gotta’. I can make this movie without permits and without insurance. But I’d have to say goodbye to my dream location. I’d have to scour central Ohio for an alternate location. What’s worse, I’m leaving October 25th for Ohio (I’m in LA right now) and we’ve got a start date of October 30th. That leaves four whole days to find a better spot, restructure my shooting schedule, and notify my actors. Not exactly ideal.

So let’s assume for a moment that I did do this movie “by the book”. Insurance for the last short film I did cost around $1300. Now for any of you math majors out there, to add that cost into my budget… puts me $300 in the hole. Without lifting a camera, without a frame of footage to show for it.

ALL INSURANCE AND NO PLAY MAKES SAM A DULL BOY
A little over a decade ago, my best friend Jeff Seibenick and I got lectured by the police for shooting a movie with fake guns. This was on my parents front lawn. I was barely 17. We were shooting “Whupsumass 4”, the sequel to our first action epic “Whupsumass 2” (we thought, and rightly so, that people were more drawn to sequels. Our third installment of the trilogy was “Whupsumass ’95”, naturally). Somebody in the neighborhood had apparently mistaken a group of teenagers with spray-painted water guns for an elite group of Russian Terrorists. An obvious mistake. (on a sidenote, I’d like to bring up a poll I had read three years ago in the Toledo Blade [“One of America’s Finest Newspapers”] listing people’s greatest concerns. Number 2 on the list was terrorism. I’d also like to point out that, should terrorists attack our country again, they would most assuredly begin in Toledo, Ohio. Mostly for giving the world the Mud Hens and Jamie Farr)

There’s something liberating about that memory with the cops. Here we were, a bunch of runt kids making movies on VHS (we even rented them out at the local video store). Perrysburg, Ohio was our movie studio. We made a movie about once a month for three years. It still stands as one of my greatest childhood memories. In fact, ever since we all went to college, went our separate ways, and reunited back here in LA, we’ve talked endlessly about restarting our little production company. And yet, nothing happens. Have we gotten too old? Has the move to LA taken the fun out of a renegade film crew? Whatever the reason or combination of reasons, it’s been enough to have stalled a handful of truly wonderful careers.

WHAT’S THE DIFF?
What’s kept us from making even a single movie with the old crew? What was so easy about making a movie ten years ago that’s been lost to us? In my mind it’s the burden of age. A decade of feeding our feeble minds with doubt, paranoia. We missed our chance. We lost our edge. We started intellectualizing film. Started wondering when we were going to leave our mark, and in what profound way? The result was a stalling of energies. Fortunately, the times are a changin’.

ANGER MAKES EVERYTHING BETTER
Living in LA and considering yourself a filmmaker is a bit of a joke. At least, that’s how everyone out here views it until you’ve done your first huge blockbuster. Then you’re a “genius” in the vein of Zach Braff. Quick question: how did Zach Braff become “the voice of our generation?” By making an uneven film that could’ve used a few months of rewrites? Come on. Remember when they’re on the edge of that cliff and they scream for no reason, and then they kiss for no reason? What the hell was that? You know it could have been better. Alas, I’m getting off track.

The point is this: Zach Braff did SOMETHING. Which is more than can be said for most filmmakers in LA. You see, it’s the doing. The line between filmmaker and film critic is very thin out here. In fact, I’d say the only difference is that a film critic is essentially a filmmaker without faith.

But I’m a little fed up, if you can’t tell. I’m terrified about making this short (as you may well be about yours), but I’d much rather have something to show for my years of intellectualizing. By December, I’ll have something. It may be a pile of crap. I could fail. Or I could be the new “voice of our generation” (with the right publicist). Either way, SOMETHING will be done, insurance or no insurance. Legally or not.

And afterall, it’s the doing that makes the difference.

-Sam Jaeger

Amid a flurry of aggravating auditions this week, I finished the storyboards for my upcoming shoot and wanted you all to take a gander. I say “aggravating” only because there’s nothing at all spectacular about the daily life of a “working” actor, particularly the process of landing a “gig”. I go to auditions to sit next to the same guys I’ve sat next to in the waiting room for seven years now, waiting to audition for the co-writers of Yes Dear! Or King of Queens! Or some other lackluster show written by lackluster talent. I don’t mean to bad mouth (note: I do), but I feel that if THIS is the cream of the crop, the greatest comedic writers this country has to offer, I’m moving to Paraguay. I know I’ve made this claim before, but this time I mean it! (note: I don’t)

But I digress. What I’m trying to say here is that, once again, I am tired of reading and studying and performing work that I know WE can do better. That my one-eyed cat can do better (note: this is not a sexual reference. The writer actually does own a cat with one eye). I can’t tell you specifically HOW the writers of Yes Dear got to where they are (note: I do. They slept with Les Moonves), but I do know that if there’s room for them there is certainly room for us. And with that, here are a few drawings from my upcoming shoot. Talk at you all soon!

With love and affliction,
Sam

(note: The writer wishes to apologize for the overuse of notes in this piece.)

(note: “this piece” is yet another phrase not intended as a sexual reference. Although, the author does admit to getting a good snicker out of the seemingly perverse term “one-eyed cat” [see note above])

THE TURNING POINT

Last week I set out a plan to take over the world. Cleverly disguised as an invitation to filmmakers to shoot a short film by the end of this month, this call to arms will be seen in the coming years as THE BEGINNING OF THE END!!!!!!!! Or, quite possibly, THE END OF THE BEGINNING!! Or, if historians mishandle the facts, THE MIDDLE OF THE MIDDLE. But I surmise that THIS, October 6th in the year of our lord 2006, is a turning point for us all!!!*

*(“us all” being myself and the two people reading this)

TO THIEF A CATCH
Still struggling for a topic for your short? Relying on the old adage that “all good ideas are taken?” Amen, I say. My advice in this situation is quite simple: steal. Steal like the dickens. There’s no room for shame in the movie business “not after “Anaconda”. Do you know how many “Casablanca” rip-offs were made after that film struck gold? Now obviously, you don’t want your film to stink of unoriginality. So be SPECIFIC about your thieving. Make it a challenge. See if you can steal a single line from each of your twenty favorite films and make a story based on those lines. Try avoiding the obvious ones, like “We are now the knights who say: Icky Icky Icky Sublang Whupsunofverch…” But steal a couple of gems, a couple of random quips, and you’re on your way.

BORED? STORYBOARD!
Today I’m putting the finishing touches on my storyboards. This, in my opinion, is the most helpful preproduction you can possibly do. I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve been brought to the set of a film only to stand around as the director and cinematographer wander around looking for the perfect shot. Time wasted. Just the act of sitting down to conceptualize how your story is going to look will shift your thinking. You’ll etch a dialogue between two people and immediately know whether it looks right. If it doesn’t, go back to any film you love and study where the cinematographer puts the faces on the screen. Next week, I’ll post a sequence of these shots for y’all. If you’re doubting your directorial expertise, I guarantee storyboarding will get you over that hump.

HAVE YOU CALLED YOUR MOTHER LATELY?
To make this film on the cheap, you’ve got to aim high and buy LOW. It’d be great to have a fully paid union crew, but we all know that ain’t gonna’ happen. And it’s okay. Darren Aronofsky’s mother worked catering for his first film, “Pi”. Does the film LOOK like it was shot by a misfed crew? Not so much. So grab as many people who love you or owe you money, and ask them to take some time out of their upcoming weekend(s). And remember, you may lose friends by overworking them, but your mother will always be your mother no matter how much she wants out of it.

REFORMAT YOUR HARD DRIVE
Right now is the perfect time to take advantage of new media formats, as well as old. Places like Pro8 (find it on the web at www.pro8mm.com) here in LA offer their own quality 8mm film stock. If you’ve got an old Super 8 camera, you’re halfway there. It costs around $35 to buy and process a role of Super 8 film. Granted, a role is only 3 minutes long, but if you maximize your shoot, you can get everything you need in the can for under $150. Or shoot with the old Fisher Price PXL200. Or take a thousand shots with your cell phone camera. Whatever format you shoot in, just make sure it doesn’t look like you hired your sister to do the lighting (which, most likely, you did).

SHOOT THE SHORT, AVOID “THE SHLONG”
We shot a great film three years ago called “Advantage Hart” (see it on www.ifilm.com) starring Kate Bosworth. What was a mystery to us was why festivals weren’t gobbling it up. And then we realized: festivals didn’t know what to do with a 34 minute short film. It’s a little long. A few more scenes and we had ourselves a feature (which would have been better for the film, to be honest). In the end, we got into two festivals and the film has been nothing but a burden to its creators. So please, make it short and sweet. Save the big monologues and the epic storylines for your big epic. In the meantime, give people the best damn five minutes you can. You’ll be surprised how much more willing people are to watch a flick that’s five minutes long than one that’s thirty-five minutes.

RAPE THE LAND
October is easily the most visually stunning month of the year: bright leaves, warm sunsets. It’s hard NOT to capture some real beauty. If you’ve got a scene outdoors, don’t set it on a street corner, set it on a hillside. Underneath a red maple tree. Use that soft, forgiving autumn sunlight to light your actors. I’m fortunate enough that 90% of my story happens on a farm and in the woods. The production value is free. All I’ve got to do is capture what’s already being provided.

DEADLINES
By this time next week, I will have secured my major locations, my cast, and my crew. The script is done as of today, and the storyboards as well. Make a checklist for yourself, and see if you can catch up with me. Take time out of your work day; trust me, your boss won’t mind. Everybody likes movies. Offer him/her a part. He’ll blush, he’ll get excited, he’ll get behind you 100 percent.

And THAT’S when you ask for the raise.

Hell, if it’s gonna’ happen, it might as well happen now.

NEXT WEEK: SHOOT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER.

-Sam Jaeger

CLEARLY THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME
I know, it’s been a few weeks since I last posted, but I assure you all it’s for good reason: I was procrastinating. True, I did fly back to Ohio, then to New Hampshire for a wedding, but the bottom line is I am a sultan of procrastination. I wrote an essay on procrastination that got me an invite to the Library of Congress in D.C.. No, really. My thesis was: DON’T PROCRASTINATE BECAUSE PEOPLE WILL THINK YOU’RE PUTTING THINGS OFF. It was compelling, if I do say so myself.

So what exactly would drive me to slack off so? I think I felt a little bit like I was letting you all down if I didn’t have something enthralling to say. It holds with my rules for this blog, one of the biggest being “I PROMISE NOT TO WRITE ABOUT WIPING MY ASS”. In other words, I don’t want to bore you with the day-to-day. I realize that the day-to-day is EXACTLY what a blog is a record of, but that point had been lost on me the last couple of weeks. Nevertheless, the black sheep has returned with a newfound purpose: TO CREATE.

NO, NOT LIKE GOD. LIKE KIRK CAMERON.
This site was intended to be an intimate discourse on film. While I don’t think it’s a failure in that department, I think we’ve strayed from one of the key objectives of me writing this and you reading this: TO MOTIVATE US. Si? So here’s what I propose: let’s make October THE MONTH WHERE IT ALL HAPPENS. If you’ve been sitting on an idea for a while, this is the month when you get it done. Brush the dust off that script! Call your buds! Set a date! I’ll do the same. Because until “Take Me Home” finds its funding once again, I’d rather have something to show for the year in waiting. Enough blogging! It’s time we made a film! If Kirk Cameron can do it (and oh man, can he!), then so can we. So let’s get to it!

SO EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS IN “THE MONTH WHERE IT ALL HAPPENS”?
That depends on you. I am finally shooting that short film I wrote you all about back in Ohio. Now, because of actor scheduling, that won’t happen until October 30th. Which leads me to a bit of advice: give yourself as much prep time as possible. Yes, it’s a blast getting together with the gang and seeing what you can whip up, but keep in mind you’ve got a whole month (I’m discluding editing time. Just shooting something in one month is a huge task). But take the month to get it right: storyboard the whole film, study like-minded films, study how they’re lighting their actors, try replicating their style, find a good camera for a good price (to rent or buy), get your crew, get your cast, get your ass movin’! I am a firm believer in the notion that films are only as good as their pre-production.

Meanwhile, I’m going to figure out a place where we can post our shorts to share with each other. In the meantime, here are a few storyboards from my short, “Untold”. By this time next week, let’s have our shorts fully formulated and as taught as Joan Rivers face. Pass it out to a few folks you trust. Listen to their feedback, weigh it, and make any adjustments. But when Friday comes, you’ve got a rock-steady shooting script. I’m shooting for the same deadline. And we’ll take it from there. OCTOBER WON’T KNOW WHAT HIT HER!!

(Author’s note: The author would like to clarify that his last statement was in no way, shape, or form a promotion of physical violence. He would like to point out that “October” is actually a month of the year and not a former girlfriend. The author has a deep respect for all women, even the ones who set out to ruin his life like his fiancee and his mother. He thanks you in advance for your understanding on this matter.)

-Sam Jaeger

 

  

“September, a time of in-between,
a lazy month of nothing.”
-Red House Painters, from the song “Michigan”

BIG CHANGE IN LITTLE RUSSIA
I bought a light meter this week off of Craigslist. After spending the weekend in an eBay frenzy (regret, coupled with unsatiated hope), I found this photographer who was moving to China with his wife and selling his equipment. This was at his studio on the east side of Hollywood, a part of town that somehow mingles Thailand with Russia. The studio was the type of great apartment that can be found, on rare occasion, inside one of the city’s millions of sad, dank apartment complexes.

“China, huh?”

He nodded.

“Big change,” I said.

He shrugged. “It’s time.”

Of course it is. Afterall, this is September. A month that, up until five years ago, was marked by it’s sheer unimportance.

SEPTEMBER
It’s a month of transition, isn’t it? We head back to school, back to work. The end of baseball, the start of football. The unveiling of many unfortunate television shows. The return to “important” films after a summer hiatus of explosions and sequels. The last fits of heat. The first scents of changing leaves.

If not for what happened on September 11th, 2001, this month would go unnoticed, dormant. Ushered in by Jerry Lewis and his timeless antics. Instead, we’re left to endure a string of “America Remembers” specials, salutes to the many brave and innocent whose lives were taken on that day. Not to say these don’t have a place (how, afterall, would we remember without the sweeping melodrama of the newsreel montage?). But every year at this time, you can feel the media gearing up for another assault. “‘Pet Goat’ Schoolkids Remember 9/11” is the headline on Yahoo. You get the feeling not even the media wants to jump back into this. And who can blame them?

FORGET 9/11
Hey, where’d I put my glasses? Have you seen my keys? Did terrorists ever bomb the World Trade Center? I don’t think it’s going to slip our minds. It’s not something we misplaced exactly. Rather, it has become an intrinsic part of our national lexicon, our heritage. It will be more than “remembered”; we’re still trying to figure what it’s done to us.

Are we more anxious? Fearful? Proud? Have these always been American traits, magnified by hysteria? We’re STILL responding to the attacks. We will be for decades.

PRETTY PLEASE
So I’d like to posit this: can we have our month back? We’ll give Katie Couric the day. But the whole month? How long did it take after Pearl Harbor before we gave December back to the holidays? If anything, 9/11 is an extension of what September has forever been: a symbol of change. The Great Transition. A period of repose, where we can forgive our past for the firm grip it’s had on us, let the future dangle a little further out there, and turn our attention to the here and now.

SO WHY THE LIGHT METER?
This has been marinating in my brain for the last week because with TAKE ME HOME pushed back I’ve turned my attention to a short film. It’s an adaptation of a chapter from Sherwood Anderson’s WINESBURG, OHIO (the book I mentioned not too long ago). It’s a wonderful little story and a project I’m going to helm on my own. Rather than spend the rest of autumn kicking myself for the financial missteps of TAKE ME HOME, I wanted to turn my attention to something within the realm of possibilities. My aim is to shoot it at the end of October back in Ohio. I should have something to show you all by the end of November. It’s a project I’m proud of, and one that I think will ready me for the feature. If anything, it’s something to do “in the meantime”. A transition, if you will.

-Sam Jaeger

 

 

I’M NOT GOING TO LIE TO YOU (because you aren’t family)
I’ve had a Take Me Home website done for about four months now. I was going to revamp it; make it a little more “user-friendly” for the whole lot of you. But then I realized that what was more important was that you guys and gals get to see how we’re trying to appeal to THE MAN. No, I don’t mean Randy “Macho-Man” Savage, I mean the people in power, our prospective investors. The site was designed to be professional, even (dare I say) tasteful. Regardless, I’m pretty excited about it; I think it’s a good site. If anything, it’ll give you all a little more perspective on exactly the type of film we’re making.

THE BIG TEASE
Not to mention, there’s actually a decent teaser trailer we made specifically for the site. We shot it in three days, edited it in two. It cost us under a grand, but I think you folks will agree it’s looks a heckuva’ lot pricier. Most importantly, it gives our investors something concrete; they can see this movie’s potential.

AND, FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY
To give you a little more perspective on exactly how desperate we’d become with our ex-potential investors, take a look at the “FOR OUR INVESTORS” link on the main page. It’s basically a last-ditch effort to get these guys to put their money where their mouth is (or was”¦and then wasn’t).

Anyway,

TAKE A LOOK-SEE:

http://www.takemehomemovie.com

COMING NEXT WEEK:
“Well, the Hail Mary failed”¦ how “˜bout a first down?”

-Sam Jaeger

 

Just how long does it take you to say “no”?  

Try it.  Go on, no one’s looking.

There.  Not too hard, was it?  Well, pat yourself on the back, my friend.  For some people, say… our prospective investors, that two-letter word took over TWO MONTHS to say.  Consider yourself blessed.  You have done in one second what took a team of very wealthy men an entire summer!  Remember that next time you’re on the couch, watching reruns of The Simpsons and questioning your self-worth.  Just say, “hey, I can do in one second what took a team of wealthy lawyers an entire summer.”  Then continue eating Cheetos off your chest, knowing you are truly great.

Yes, indeed, our film has been derailed… two months shy of our start date.  On Thursday we found out that our investors, who had seemingly been so enthusiastic about our film, backed out.  This is after several months of positive banter about the project.  Solidifying contracts.  Perusing budgets.  Last minute clarifications.  Appeasement.  All for a big, fat “NO”.

WE SHOULD HAVE SEEN THIS COMING.  No.  We saw this coming, and yet we did nothing.  It was as if we locked our keys in the car and KNEW we were locking our keys in the car AS we shut the door.  Like, “Oh, wow.  I’m locking my keys in the car and AW, DAMMIT!  Why did I DO THAT!!”

Why DID we do that?  Well, we had our options.  We could A). Work very hard to ensure that several pockets of investors are deciding simultaneously on yet another very sound business venture, or B) put all our eggs in one basket.  Needless to say, the choice was obvious.  I mean, who doesn’t like a basket of eggs?!

ON THE PLUS SIDE?
This is not the first film to lose its funding in the final hour, and it won’t be the last.  Hopefully, it’s the last for US, though.  And if there is something positive to come from this (and there isn’t, mind you), it’s that we have our answer.  True, it’s not the one we were hoping for, but it IS an answer.  We know where we stand at last. And now, beginning this very day, we can start rebuilding.  Learning from our egregious mistakes.  Finding yet another avenue for this film. 

I’ve got to be honest, I have not been enjoying this process.  Not lately.  The reason? I put the worth of my film (and ashamedly, a little of my own self-worth) into some businessmens’ hands. Not the most comforting place to be.

I went back to Ohio this weekend for my grandma’s 90th birthday party. I got to see all the people I love most in the world. My brother and sisters. Mom and dad. Cousins, nieces, nephews…. All of them there to celebrate a woman who lived through The Great Depression, World War II, and The Cabbage Patch Doll hysteria of ’83. Not exactly an easy life. But let’s be honest, I think my investor woes stack up pretty good against that Great Depression crap, right? RIGHT?!

If I were in the midst of curing cancer, or AIDS, (heck, even gonorrhea) this might be worth the stress. But what is this?! It’s a movie. Is it going to change the entire world? Not likely (though I’ve got a good feeling about parts of Central Asia).

So why have I let this get to me so much? This tiny little word “no”?!

In the end, if I’m not finding value in making this movie, even in (gulp) the rejections, what’s the point? What if, instead of five more months, it takes five more YEARS to get this film made? Am I going to be miserable all five years? As much as admire that kind of committed depression, I think I’d rather start enjoying myself again.

“Sometimes it is better to travel than to arrive.”
-Robert M. Piesig
“Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”

 

-Sam Jaeger

 

  

I’m 29. And a half (for any small children reading this). I am, by most standards, pretty young. Still able to fully enjoy sports (Tecmo Super Bowl being my favorite). Still able to avoid the allure of Matlock. If it weren’t for the possible return of shingles, I’d be in peak shape.

No, it’s not a rectal problem (7). Shingles have to do with chicken pox, and are supposed to arrive during times of intense stress on the body. In my case, they’ve set up shop on the bridge of my nose. So, what is it exactly that’s making me this stressed? WAITING. Or, more precisely, WAITING FOR OUR FUNDING.

PROLOGUE: December of 2005. I was in the kitchen breaking dishes when I was pulled into an interview with the Polish Brothers on NPR. If you haven’t heard of them, they wrote and directed Northfork, as well as Twin Falls, Idaho. They were promoting their book, The Declaration of Independent Filmmaking, and discussed some of the most valuable lessons learned from producing three independent films. One of the most compelling lessons was:

DON’T WAIT AROUND FOR FUNDING. Everybody does. Everybody in this world, not just those of us out there making a film, mind you… EVERYBODY is waiting for the bling. But it should not be so, say the Polish Brothers. They believe young filmmakers need to shoot for a start date rather than a budget. Once that date comes, whether you’ve got five thousand dollars or five hundred thousand, you are shooting that damn movie. “And why not,” I thought. I was proud of the script, I was confident in my abilities as a director, I had no recurring chicken pox virus with which to contend. Seemed like a grand idea.

And for that reason, I decided that we were going to shoot Take Me Home in 2006! Nay, SUMMER of 2006!!! Call the rental houses! Get my mother a baker’s cap! We’re making what is sure to be one of the Greatest Road-Trip Movies of All-Time!!!

FLASH FORWARD: July 2006. Ain’t happenin’. This is not, afterall, going to be a summer road-trip movie, but a FALL road-trip movie. We were to start shooting on August 7th. That has been pushed. And why, among other reasons? We are WAITING. Or, more precisely, WAITING FOR OUR FUNDING.

I FELL FOR IT. The Polish Brothers told me not to, and yet here I am; the throb of shingles starting to work its way into my forehead. In December, I loved the idea of just making this movie on a certain date. So we set our date. And come hell or high water, we were going to start on that date. However, about three months ago we got involved with a great guy who has ties to a solid group of investors. And, because I’m such a good boy, such a smart boy, I started to dream about actually PAYING our crew. Y’know, keep them happy. At the very least, keep them from rioting. If it was going to be as easy as it seemed at the time, I thought “why not?” What could be the worst that could happen?

So we started planning to make our film with not one, but two budgets. The first budget with the prospective investment, the second with my own money. With an unpaid crew, with stolen locations, props, possibly even equipment. You can start to see how easy it was to attach ourselves to shooting with the first budget.

So…

-TWO MONTHS AGO we contacted a lawyer to draw up a contract between ourselves and the investors.
-A MONTH-AND-A-HALF AGO we were to have that money in our film’s account.
-THREE WEEKS AGO, we decided to postpone the movie in order to square that money away. -TWO WEEKS AGO we were told the money was to be transferred in the same day.
-LAST WEEK we stopped hearing from them.
-THIS WEEK I have shingles.
-Any bets on what bodily malfunctions occur NEXT WEEK?

There is still promise. I’m “mildly confident”, if such a term exists. Our tie to the investors happens to be (did I mention?) a GREAT GUY. And being a good boy myself, I’m inclined to believe the Great Guy when he says the money is coming in very, very soon. In the meantime, I offer you all this tidbit of advice:

DON’T WAIT FOR THE MONEY. Keep doing the work; work on the script, work on finding locations, work on assembling a good crew that knows what a fiasco they’re getting into. In hindsight, we tried preparing for two different films, but we only focused on the big one.

EPILOGUE:
My friend Jeff Passino wrote a great script. It took place in one room with two characters. After he had slaved over the last draft, I asked him what he was going to do with it. “Find financing,” he said. When I asked how much he was hoping to get, he said five hundred thousand. “What could you possibly need $500,000 for?” He told me he wanted to pay the actors and get a great cinematographer. But…500K? He better be resurrecting Conrad Hall for that much.

That said, I understand where Jeff’s coming from. My man spent a year writing and re-writing his baby. He wanted to get it done right. I certainly do. But…

IT’S NOT GOING TO BE PERFECT. Never. You’re making a film; it’s a very tenuous process. Just work the budget; get that sucker taught. Then shoot the damn movie. I agree with the Polish Brothers; don’t wait around for money. If you can get your story across for ten grand rather than 500 grand, do it.

Your body will thank you.

-Recommended Viewing: Primer. Shot for $7000 on Super 16mm. Marvel over how Shane Carruth and Co. crafted this metaphysical thriller for scraps. Featuring an excellent director commentary.

-Sam Jaeger

 

“You’re such a good boy, Sam. Such a smart boy.” My mother said this to me once. I was 27. No, I’m not kidding. And she meant it. And who am I to tell her any different? What, disappoint the woman who birthed me?! No, sir! I’d rather stick a red-hot javelin up my ass than let that woman down (six?). And yet, here I am, 29 and consumed by “goodness”. My struggle, nay, my greatest challenge as a first-time director is not going to be setting up shots or retaining the overall scope of the film, etc.. No, sir. My struggle is with THE UNBEARABLE URGE TO BE “GOOD”. 

I hold doors for people. People half a mile away from the building. It’s cool. I’ll wait. I’ll hold that door so long they have to do a little “jog” up so as not to make me wait any longer. Nothing could sway me from this display of chivalry. My slacks could be on fire. I’d wait. I wait so well, people feel like jerks for not having sprinted to the door. And that’s when I know I’m “good”: when my goodness makes people feel bad. But that’s cool. I swear that’s as close as I get to “bad”. I’ll venture over to the Dark Side ever once in a while. But, hot damn, wouldn’t it be awesome to be full-on “bad”. Why? Because:

THE BAD SEEDS HAVE IT LUCKY. When you’re a bad seed, nobody expects much of you. You can trash-talk, you can put your dirty shoes on the coffee table, you can ruin the vibe at a good party. People are ready for it. They say, “Well, you know how (bad seed’s name) is. We’re just lucky he doesn’t throw a flaming pile of crap at our door.”

No doubt, you Bad Seeds have it good. What’s more, because you’ve set the bar SO low, people are blown away with even the slightest attitude shift; you say “gesundheit” and they’re ready to name a childrens’ library after you. But not the “good people”. Heck no. Why? Because…

GOOD PEOPLE SUCK IN A BIG WAY. They only want your happiness. If you’re happy, they’re happy. They’re happy, in case you were wondering, because your not getting pissed at them. They get to avoid disagreements. AND YET, whenever I choose to avoid confrontation, it always, ALWAYS comes back to haunt me (and, man, I’m good at avoiding; I’ve gone to court several times for unpaid parking tickets. What happened?! Did I lose them? Did I forget about them? No. I simply pretended they didn’t exist… until they towed my car off. THEN they magically appeared.).

Case in point: this week, I realized I may have to replace a key crew member. Mostly because of scheduling concerns. He’s more than just a crew member, though. This guy’s one of my closest friends. I would stab people in the eye for this man. THAT close.
So we met for lunch. We talked about our “ladyfriends”. I blabbed on about weekend plans. I unpeeled the ketchup label on the counter. And then, when the conversation turned to work, I did as all “good people” do: I chickened out.

Brave Sir Robin Ran Away! Bravely Ran Away, Away!

I hemmed and hawed, I gazed out the window. I began listing all the other options except the one we both knew was inevitable; this guy was going to have to leave his post. One of my best friends. And I couldn’t even say, flat out, “this sucks, man. But the best thing for this film is that we part ways and promise to make another film somewhere down the line.” That’s the sensible thing. But NOOOOOOO. Instead, I remained entirely indirect; not the best trait for a “director”, wouldn’t you say?

GOODNESS IS A HARD HABIT TO BREAK, but I think it’s necessary for our film to survive. I’ve got to be able to set my “goodness” aside and DO MY JOB.

Honestly, If I’m clear about what the film needs, what the story needs, the urge to be good can take a back seat. My job is to serve the film in the best way possible. Not the filmmakers. And in the end if the film’s good, they’ll forgive me for venturing over to the Dark Side every once in a while.

“People are simply incapable of prolonged, sustained goodness.”
-Diane Frolov

 

-Sam Jaeger

 

About an hour and a half into Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest it dawned on me: I had abso-frickingly no clue what was happening. None. I saw Johnny. Heard Orlando’s breathy dialect. Marveled at Keira seemingly trying to suck the entire Caribbean into her mouth. And still, NO CLUE. Afterwards, I turned to my buddy Jeff Seibenick (also known as “The Great Seib”) who shared the same sentiment. “I couldn’t tell you what happened,” he said, “but how great was that ending!?”

In the aftermath of the film, its onslaught of special effects still reeling in my head, I started wondering where we’re heading. See, as part of my Promise #5 to you guys (TO EXAMINE AMERICA’S DELETERIOUS CONNECTION TO FILM AND THE REFUSAL TO ACCEPT ITS POST-ATOMIC SOCIAL EVOLUTION), I think I owe it to you to say, flat out, I was disappointed by the theme park ride-turned-convoluted sequel. I know! What the hell’s wrong with me?!

Honestly, I’m not here to bash any film. That’s not what this blog is about. It’s about how WE, being the “little guys”, get our movies made and get them SEEN (that last part’s a biggie). What do we have that the majors don’t? What hope is there of some couple getting a babysitter and driving across town on a Saturday night to see a “Take Me Home” over a “Superman Returns”? And here’s the answer, or my answer, at least: There’s got to be something else.

Now, I’ll be honest, I was at Superman Returns opening night. Same for Pirates and X-Men: United. But I was mildly disappointed to majorly bummed-out by all three of those flicks. How is that possible? All I want is to be entertained, right? All I want is a little Keira Knightly pouty-lip thing. And yet…

Summer movies are like chinese food; tastes good, but it goes right through you, doesn’t it? There’s no sustenance. And what’s worse, what nobody wants to admit is that the independents aren’t much better.

Film critic Pauline Kael once remarked about the great divide forming between the majors and indies. The point she was making was really how, back in the 70’s, “small” films still had huge themes (see Coppola’s The Conversation). But nowadays, people go see independent films simply because they want something that doesn’t blow up in their face. You know, something without Bruce Willis.

The bottom line is this: I want something that sticks; something I can’t shake. And whose responsibility is that? The studio that made “Poseidon”? Hardly. Let’s lay blame squarely on the shoulders of schmucks like me: young, independent filmmakers. The aim of the big studios is simple: make the big movies BIGGER (and theoretically, more profitable). But for us, for the wee people, what’s our aim? To make small movies with no boom-boom? To make clever films that will lead to BIGGER second films?

Or, how ’bout this: we try our best to make great films that nobody else would dare to make. I think we can do it; I think we’ve got a lot to say. Maybe we’ve become too apathetic to say it. Maybe you’re not a filmmaker; maybe just a fan. If so, ask yourself this: when was the last time you talked about a movie more than five minutes after the credits rolled?

Now, is Take Me Home going to change the American lexicon? Doubt it. Will it entertain? By gummit’, yes! Will you leave the theater with plenty to say? That’s my hope.

In case you were wondering, Take Me Home is a comedy about a woman who gets into a cab in New York and convinces the driver to take her across the entire United States. That’s really it, in a nutshell. Now, if you wanted to crack that nutshell, you’d find a story about two pathetically lonely people on a trip together, one in a failing marriage, the other in a dwindling career. Two people with nothing in common but the country passing their window. Maybe a little bit about desperation, about how unfulfilling the pursuit of the American Dream can be, about how badly we want to put our trust in someone else. That’s all.

Will those messages come across on the big screen? Will the movie even make it to the big screen? No idea. But we’re trying our damnedest. And we thank you for your support.

And now, back to Poseidon II: Electric Boogaloo!

-Sam Jaeger

 

 

I’m Sam Jaeger, and this brand-spankin’ new blog is dedicated to our film-in-the-works, “Take Me Home”. I’ll describe the film soon, but for now I want to focus on my list of promises to you all; a list of what you can expect in the coming months. So without further adieu, or ado, or add-you:

Promise #1: I PROMISE NOT TO WRITE ABOUT WIPING MY ASS. Pretty much as it reads. Your time is precious, as is mine. If I had more acclaim as an actor, more notoriety (such as Kevin Smith, or Angelina Jolie, or Hightower from the Police Academy Films), there would be more of an interest in me wiping my own ass. But I am no celebrity, despite my mother’s opinion, and so I will keep to more intriguing subject matter. (author’s note: said author is aware that the subject of wiping his ass has been mentioned three times already…now four, and would appreciate you not pointing this lapse out to him. He is, afterall, an actor. Actors are easily bruised.)

Promise #2: I PROMISE TO RESPECT YOU EVEN AFTER I’VE HAD MY WAY WITH YOU. My friends can attest to this, especially the ones I’ve slept with. My hope is that you’ll feel a part of this whole process… what it is that makes filmmaking such a confounding and remarkable phenomenon. It does no good to keep you out of the loop. We’re making an indie film on a very tight budget here. No Paramount Exec is going to come in and curb our discussions. The Department of Homeland Security is another matter.

Promise #3: I PROMISE TO EVENTUALLY SHUT UP. I’m not the only swabby on this deck, and I’d like you to hear some different perspectives on how this movie is coming along. In the coming weeks, you’ll be hearing from our producer Michael Hobert. A little insight: in addition to being our dutiful producer, Mike also plays Zach Braff’s intern “Lonny” on “Scrubs”. He’ll be popping in every once in a while to vent about all the crazy people he gets to deal with (the director being one of them).

Promise #4: I PROMISE NOT TO WASTE YOUR TIME. Only you can do that. But, if you DO decide to waste your time, we hope you’ll choose to waste it with us. Who knows? You may get inspired to make your own film, and not only waste your time, but your hard-earned money! Sound too good to be true?! READ ON! As of today, we are awaiting a sum of money from investors. If this falls through, we’re going to make this movie with, yes indeed, our own income! Great idea, yes? “Sure,” you might say, “but isn’t that what destroyed Charlie Chaplin?” Yes it was! And if we can be counted among such greats as Chaplin, well then, haven’t we succeeded in our own way?

Promise #5: I PROMISE TO EXAMINE AMERICA’S DELETERIOUS CONNECTION TO FILM AND THE REFUSAL TO ACCEPT ITS POST-ATOMIC SOCIAL EVOLUTION. Pretty much as it reads.

And finally,

Promise #6: I PROMISE NOT TO WRITE ABOUT PARIS HILTON. This is not a gossip blog, got that? There will no star-gazing here, Paris! Take your crook-necked gaze elsewhere! We’re too damn busy making a movie! (author’s note: author is aware that Paris Hilton has been mentioned twice…now three times, much like the subject of wiping his own ass [now five]. He appreciates your understanding in this matter.)

Coming soon: Just WHAT IS this movie about, anyway?