How to Kill Yourself in One Year #10.5: "22"

and just because it was seriously raining and I couldn't resist...we did one kick ass "real time" take in the spirit of Mike Figgis (who is not, technically Dogme 95 but still pretty kick ass)

and yes (as if you can't tell) this is ONE TAKE, no overdubs.

How to Kill Yourself in One Year #10: "22"

And here it is...number TEN.  Like I said HERE, I did this under the Dogme95 Vow of Chastity and...fair warning...one of those vows is that you must record sound at the same time as you record the image and you can't do additional sound recording (no ADR, no Voice Over, no score).  I tell you this, because, this restriction can often (and in our case, oh yeah it does) lead to some discrepancies between cuts... 

just remember that the purpose of Dogme95 and its manifesto is to remove the fear of making mistakes from you and relieve you of the burden of perfection so you can focus on the task at hand, which is capturing truth...a moment of truth.

and we have definitely done that...in spades.

Special thanks once again to my dream team cast for going along with me on this dashing bold adventure.

I love you both...

and I love YOU!

this may get disgusting...

I’m an actor.  Or maybe I was an actor and sometimes still am. I don’t know. I have an MFA in acting so that’s probably something…but then again…it’s probably also doodly squat…because it has done just that for  me.  There was a period of about 5 years where I pounded the pavement in NYC and you can see how that all turned out HERE.

Why am I saying this?  well I’ve been thinking a lot about acting lately…and I’m coming to the same conclusion that Morgan Freeman’s character in Million Dollar Baby came to:  “I had my shot, nobody can say any different”.  I did have my shot. There was a moment and I had it. And then I let it go. Didn’t seize. Something like that. Anywhoo…I did NOT make it as an actor. And I could rail against the injustice of it all but the simple fact is—and I’m talking reality here, the reality of 10+ years of soul searching, not some half-assed grab for your sympathy or a ersatz coy spelunking for a compliment—the fact is that I don’t have zazz.  You know, ZAZZ. That thing that makes people intriguing; that special quality that stars have that makes them compelling and impossible to ignore.  Look, you give me a role and a proper rehearsal and I’ll give you a performance as good as anyone….but I’ll never transcend anything…I’ll never hit that “shaking hands with god” moment where I fully drop in and in that moment become one with the universe and truly live truthfully under imaginary circumstances, and to further compound the issue I’m not photogenic in the slightest and completely un-charming (on camera that is…you should see me at work) and…yep…I ain’t got no ZAZZ.  So I lack the depth and ability to truly transform and also lack the skills and charm to fake it so…let’s face it: I’m not a bad actor…I’m just kinda “meh”.  And this is coming from me as an actor AND as a producer/director who has worked with me here, here, and here. Recently.  So I’ll probably still act because I dig it and, really, what’s the point of having your own movie studio if you don’t get to cast yourself in roles you’re not good enough to play?

BUT, when I have something of substance. When I have something I care about…a script that pounded me into submission and strangled  my soul until I collapsed at the keys and then banged itself into existence through my weary fingers…a transcendent script (and that is something I am capable of producing, unlike a transcendent performance), well when I have one of those, I need real actors. I need the A-Team.

I need Tim.

I need Kaylyn.

Which is really what I wanted to talk about anyway.  I’ve spoken at length about my love and gratitude for my F**K New York Cast…don’t believe me?  Read this, or this.

And the more I sink into this project and the more actor bullshit I run into—this will be a separate posting in itself: actor bullshit, or HOW come you gotta be like that, you ain’t a star—the more nonsense I have had to stomach during these films, the more I really just cling to my original thesis (chix is whack) that, fuck “talent”…everybody is “talented”…you really just need to find people you love and work with forever.

Which brings us back to Tim. And Kaylyn (and Franny and Maria and John and my Jejo and Austin and Uma and Love and sweet Abner D and Batman and Jeffrey Johns and Sharone and and and and and and the list goes on but we’re talking about Tim and Kaylyn here).

Tim and Kaylyn are those RARE actors that are awesome human beings as well as performers. It was not arbitrary that I put “human beings” before “performers”.  They come prepared, with no bullshit and give you their best. They work hard and make it seem easy.

And this last week, they worked hard and made it seem easy in the fucking rain.   Yep. On the ONE day we could shoot, the old man was snoring. Honestly, based on the nature of the script, the rain worked and created a tone and atmosphere that we couldn’t have achieved in bright daylight…but it still sucked hardcore major ass to be out there in it…fumbling with umbrellas trying to cover the camera at the expense of us…having to pause in the middle of a take so we could wipe the camera lens…watching poor Kaylyn turn all sorts of different colors because she was FREEZING.

 

But they never complained; quite the opposite really. They laughed and joked between takes and told stories and then dropped in when I said “action”.  They USED the rain to fuel the character choices and the moments and didn’t telegraph comments about the uncomfortableness or it all.  They were professionals…actually fuck that, professionals would have demanded rain pay and trailers and such…they were MOTHER FUCKING ARTISTS and gave everything to the moment; just like I did. They were in there, in the trenches with me and giving their all; true collaborators.   

HTKIOY # 10 "22"

And let me tell you, if I never made another film with any other actors but them, I’d still marvel everyday at my good fortune…and if I made 100 movies with just Tim and Kaylyn, I’d not reach the limits of their talent.

I told you it might be disgusting.

Because I love these two. Not in some “I LOVE you man” kinda silliness….but as a creator loves his muse. 

I spent most of my life searching for an artistic home and didn’t find it until I gave up the search and built the home myself.

My wife was the one who gave me the keys to the door.

Tim and Kaylyn were among the first guests.

I hope they never leave.

F**k New York Fans, this is the one you've dreamed of...

I cannot tell you how freakin' excited I am right now.  because as we speak...I'm prepping to do a short that is going to finally match F**k New York's Marcus with SHE (who will not be named).

Yep.

that's right.

Tim Weinert  

as Mathis (what is it with him playing dudes named M...S?)

and

Kaylyn Scardefield

as Veronika (she has a name for this one)

Man oh man is this gonna be one for the ages.  In F**k New York, Kaylyn's presence was a constant undercurrent for everything Tim does; but they don't share a single frame of film together.  I actually have a screen test of them from the F**k New York auditions, that I'll try to dig up and post...

I am absolutely thrilled that I am getting this chance to work with two of my very favorite actors on the planet.  I'm not a man who tosses around the word, "blessed", very often...so I won't do that here. BUT if I were the sort of person who said "blessed", THIS would be an occasion for so doing!

woo to the mother f**king hoo!!!

TEN Pan Alley. The Tenth One. The Tenth Script

it's hard to believe but this puppy is almost at rest. seems like only yesterday we were struggling to make number 4 and thinking about quitting and here we are, struggling to make number 10 (and thinking about quitting)

I do think about quitting a lot.  This whole thing is just very very hard.  Once its over, I hope I can look back fondly but as of now all I'm doing is kicking myself for trying this THIS year.  What was meesa thinking?

anywhoo... enough of that shasta.

i think that as this project has progressed, I've kinda started nailing down who I am as a writer and (to a lesser extent) who I am as a film maker.  I've always been a fan of the Dogme '95 dudes. I loved that manifesto, even if they didn't really adhere to it. it's been a goal of mine to make a true dogme film and I've tried...actually came pretty close with F**k New York.  but, honestly, the sound was so terrible that I had to add score. sorry, Lars.

but I think with HTKYIOY, I should at least give it a proper go, so this one is going to be all Dogme.  I'm going to publicly take my vow of chastity  and follow the commandments.


Here is the script:  22 

Obviously, for those of you who have seen the December film, the subject matter here has a bit of personal significance.  When we were in the hospital with Mags and Z-man, with the other preemies and parents, we got to see a lot of stuff that you just can't unsee.  Babies smaller than you can imagine a human being...being. Parents having not slept, sitting in silent vigil in front of incubators, the rhythmic pulsing of the respirators going in and out of sync with various bleeps and bloops from monitors.  Recognizing their weary expressions whenever a mirror was present.  And in all that time, it wasn't the doctors who gave us comfort (and that is not to say the doctors were not magnificent), but rather the NURSES, who...and I can't even find the words to express how incredible these women are. I don't think a poet exists who can do their wonder justice...these warriors of the ward, would tirelessly and cheerfully tend to a full ship of preemies and terrified parents and they would do it with ease, humility and purity.  To see these women, with no personal connection to our babies, treat them with respect and wonder and awe and kindness and tenderness and any other descriptors you can think of I told you I'm not a good enough writer to sing their praises, was proof in the greatness of humanity...that maybe we'll all be okay.  The fact that, after a grueling 11 hour shift, our nurse would so patiently sit with a dumb ass all thumbs awkward goomba father as he attempts to feed 30 ccs of breast milk to his 3 pound son, still attached to the machines, and trying desperately NOT to pull any wires out...well let's just say, i'm a fan for life.  And we got to know our nurses. and sometimes, late at night, when the babies were asleep and most of the parents had gone and there were just a few of us stragglers behind, the nurses would let down their hair (so to speak) and begin to talk shop. and that is where my awe of them truly blossomed. These women are veterans of a war that shall never end...for 'tis a war with death herself. and yet they still go....day after day...night after night... moment by moment...and try with every fiber of their being to hold that bitch off for one more hour. one second. one breath.  As they were trying to make Christmas dinner plans, one of these ladies, dropped into a story about a "tough night"; a night where she almost lost a baby she'd been caring for for weeks. How she had to perform chest compressions on this little one, and breath for her and just keep doing it over and over until her vitals picked up and she was okay, and then (and she told this in a calm, almost meditative tone) "i had to just go to the bathroom and lock the door and sit a moment because that was a hard one and the really hard part is that, for this baby, I pretty much do this every night".  And it sinks in...these nurses are literally the only guardians for these children. If they live or die, it ain't because of the doctors...it's because of the nurses.

and thus, Veronika was born.  You may see her again...