AlaskaLand, The Movie

Jollof rice? Or, burger & fries?

An Alaskan Story

AlaskaLand, the first feature film from Nigerian-American writer/director Chinonye Chukwu, was shot in Fairbanks, Alaska, over a period of two weeks this past winter.

Based in Fairbanks, the story follows the lives of an estranged Nigerian-American brother and sister who reunite in Fairbanks after the sister spends two years living in Nigeria with an uncle, following the death of the siblings' parents in an automobile accident.

Produced by Maya Salganek (assistant professor of film/video at University Of Alaska Fairbanks), Jamila Capitman, and Chukwu, the film is in post-production in Philadelphia, where Chukwu currently resides.

Chukwu recently spoke with me over the phone about "AlaskaLand", and what it was like growing up as a Nigerian-American in Alaska.

Born in Nigeria, Chukwu spent the majority of her childhood in Fairbanks and studied at UAF, including a screenwriting class, before moving to Philadelphia and completing her Master of Fine Arts. In addition to having taught undergraduate courses at Temple University, she runs a short-film slam (similar to poetry slams) and works with the local youth community.

Her MFA Thesis film, "The Dance Lesson", was a regional finalist for the 2010 Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences Student Academy Awards.

During our conversation Chukwu laughed easily and often, and was a pleasure to speak with. I will be keeping an eye on the progress of "AlaskaLand" and hope that it finds an audience and success when it is finally released.

Chinonye Chukwu

Q&A

Matt Shields: A two-week shoot? For a feature film?

Chinonye Chukwu: [laughing] Well, I only had two weeks off from my day job... Actually, there were a couple things. We were trying to reach a deadline for a narrative filmmaker's lab, which we didn't get, but was a blessing in disguise. And, it was the only time I could get certain crew members, who I really, really, wanted to work with. Who I've worked with for years and they could only give me two weeks during that time period. And we needed to shoot in Fairbanks during that time to make sure we still had snow and ice, which the story needed to make sense.

MS: Still, that's like a 'Roger Corman' shooting schedule. Any panic moments?

Chinonye: There was never a time I thought to myself, "This is impossible, what the heck am I doing". I knew it was going to be crazy and rigorous...

The first question I asked the crew and cast members was, "Are you ready to do this in two weeks? Do you believe that this is possible"? And I told them, "You have to believe that this is possible in order for you to be a part of this journey", and everybody was really down.

MS: How much preparation was there? Was every moment storyboarded?

Chinonye: Well, to be very honest, we didn't storyboard anything. There were definitely a lot of moments where we thought of things on the whim because of time constraints -- for example, if we only had a finite amount of time to get a scene, we asked ourselves what would be the most visually interesting way to shoot this scene that was also the least time consuming...

We definitely developed a rhythm. Everyone was amazing, but it took some meticulous planning ahead of time. The actors and myself rehearsed for about a month and a half before shooting.

Also, we had two cameras. We used the Canon 5D Mark II -- we usually shot with one, but there were times we were running out of time, so we used the second camera.

MS: Why did you chose to shoot digitally, versus film?

Chinonye: [Besides the] cost and convenience, it allowed us to edit as we went. One of the smartest decisions I've ever made in my life because we were able to catch mistakes. Because of our budget we knew we couldn't fly back for re-shoots, and every night myself, the editor, AD [assistant director], producer, and DP [director of photography] would be in a hotel room looking at footage. We were able to catch technical issues -- such as crossing a 180 degree axis -- or scenes that weren't working for some reason, and re-shoot.

Also, by editing as we went, we had half a rough cut by the time we got back to Philadelphia, so it was a big time saver and kept us ahead of the game.

MS: Where you able to pay anyone? Or was this a "commitment of the heart"?

Chinonye: Yes, we paid a majority of the crew members. Something that helped a great deal was that the University of Alaska Fairbanks was a co-sponsor on this project, not in a financial sense, but they helped provide students from their undergraduate film program who worked on the crew in many aspects, and we were able to pay some of them as well.


MS: Any Alaskan crew besides UAF students?

Chinonye: Yes, lots of Alaska crew. Our entire camera department was Alaskan.

MS: What about casting the Nigerian characters?

Chinonye: Principle actors came from outside of Alaska. "Chukwuma" [the brother] is played by Alex Ubokudom, a Nigerian-American who is a formally trained actor from New York. The man who played the Uncle, an older Nigerian who needed to speak Igbo, lives outside of Philadelphia, and Chioma Dunkley, the actress who plays the sister, "Chidinma", is a Nigerian-American who lives in Philly. Most of the other actors were cast in Fairbanks.

MS: You grew up in Fairbanks?

Chinonye: For twelve years, yes.

MS: What is the Nigerian community like in Fairbanks?

Chinonye: When I was growing up there there was a significant Nigerian community in Fairbanks. It was much larger in Anchorage, because that's where most of the engineering jobs are in Alaska, and a lot of Nigerians there are in the oil industry.

MS: Your father taught at UAF, correct?

Chinonye: Yes, he taught there for twenty-five years. And he was responsible for bringing a lot of the Nigerians into Fairbanks for studying... [laughs] My father is a social-butterfly, so if you were Nigerian, we knew you. He would go out searching for people and bring them to the house, and it was also because it was so important to him and my mom that my siblings and I were constantly immersed in Nigerian culture. Because they knew that once we leave our house, which was a very traditional Nigerian household, that we were going to be purely surrounded and exposed to American life.

MS: Is the story in "AlaskaLand" autobiographical?

Chinonye: It was inspired by real-life emotions, and things that I've observed, things that I've heard about, but very few events in the film are things that I've experienced...

Part of Chukwuma's conflict is that he's trying to appease some of his black American male friends, trying to live up to the image of being a black-American male. And even for myself as a child, and even into high school, it wasn't cool for my mother to show up at school wearing traditional Nigerian attire and bringing me Jollof rice, you know? I just wanted burger and fries.

MS: Talk a bit about the sister character, Chidinma. She grows up in Alaska, then when she's fourteen leaves for Nigeria where she spends two years before returning to the U.S., now fluent in her native language.

Chinonye: With the sister, she comes back fluent in their native language, which is a really big deal. Particularly for a first-generation American to not be fluent in their native language... I am not completely fluent in my native language and that has definitely made my forming of identity and self much more difficult, because I'm trying to figure out where I fit in, and even with as much of the culture that I know, and as comfortable as I am when I travel to Nigeria, me not being fluent in the language has always been a kind of wedge...

Chukwuma, the brother, is not fluent in the language, and the fact that the sister is -- there's definitely a cultural dichotomy going on between them. It makes it difficult for the sister when she returns because she's definitely a fish out of water.

She also now has a different perspective of the U.S., of Alaska. With her being a female -- I mean we live in a very patriarchal world, but Nigeria specifically is extremely patriarchal, so she's had to succumb to a lot of sexism and a gender-based hierarchy in Nigeria -- and going from that to something that's not as extreme back in Alaska, in the U.S., is challenging for her.

MS: How did you handle those moments with the actress who played her?

Chinonye: She's Nigerian-American and has been back to Nigeria -- it was very important for me that the actors who played the main characters were at least first generation Nigerian-American -- and we spoke about figuring out those moments where she could incorporate her personal experience into the character.

MS: It's refreshing to hear about "story" in addition to simply how beautiful Alaska can be as a backdrop for movies... How much was Alaska incorporated into the storytelling?

Chinonye: It's mostly in the story and characters, but Fairbanks is also a character in the film. There is one shot, probably one of my favorites in the film, and we're looking at the frozen Tanana River, and we shot on a ridiculously wide lens, probably a 12mm, and there was this expansive river, and mountains, and trees, and the lead character walks into frame as such a small figure at the edge of the frame and he becomes engulfed by this natural beauty of Fairbanks...

MS: As both the director and being involved with the editing, have you had the problem of falling in love with certain shots and not being able to get rid of them, even when they don't serve the story?

Chinonye: This is where our editor really shines. He doesn't hold back. We've worked together for several years now and if something sucks he'll say, "This sucks and shouldn't be here".

MS: How did you get funding?

Chinonye: We raised part of the money, and then had investors

MS: Did you participate in the Alaska film tax incentive?

Chinonye: Our budget wasn't high enough, and also not all of the money went towards an Alaskan business [to qualify, productions must spend a minimum of $100,000 of qualified expenditures in state].

MS: Can you talk a bit about Alaska-based producer Maya Salganek?

Chinonye: Maya was my teacher and I was also a production assistant on the film "Chronic Town" that was shot in Fairbanks [Maya co-produced Chronic Town, which was featured in the 2008 Sundance Film Festival].

The film wouldn't have happened without Maya. She was a producer in the traditional way. She got crew together, helped with logistics, got a lot of the locations, helped us with the SAG [Screen Actors Guild] paperwork, she was phenomenal. When we were shooting I was able to focus almost exclusively on just directing.

Actor Alex Ubokudom

MS: Do you have an approach worked out you like to take as a director?

Chinonye: I feel like it's still evolving. And I learn from each production. With "AlaskaLand" I realized the importance of specificity, and being very clear with my vision for each character in the story with the actors, but also giving them room to add their own kind of touch. We talked heavily about each character. If something was going in a direction I thought wasn't consistent with the character I was very honest with the actor in telling them, and very clear about why. I think the actors really appreciated that.

MS: Is there a plan for distribution? Festivals? Self distribution?

Chinonye: All of the above! We've started by trying to build a buzz. You can't be dependent on festivals, that's like a lottery. It's going to take a grassroots effort with this project.

MS: Thank you for your time, Chinonye, and good luck.

Chinonye: Thank you. It was a pleasure.

Links:
Alaskaland
Where's The Fire? Filmworks LLC
Hungry?
Maya Salganek
University of Alaska Fairbanks Film Program
"Like" AlaskaLand on Facebook

(Photos courtesy Chinonye Chukwu)

Mountain Shack Theater Alaska

Not a "rih-pawf"

Anyone who enjoyed "Mystery Science Theater 3000" should have a good time at a "Mountain Shack Theater Alaska" show.

Inspired by MST-3K, the Mountain Shack Theater show is a live screening of 'less than good,' ok, 'very bad,' movies that take place in the early days of Alaska.

Founder and director Mark Robokoff points out that Mountain Shack Theater is "intended as an homage, pronounced oh-mazh, as opposed to rih-pawf" to MST-3K.

(And if that last bit is your kind of humor, then Mountain Shack is for you.)

Just like with the MST-3K robots, Mountain Shack Theater provides a live running commentary that makes fun of (enhances) the movie. Instead of robots, the commentators include a grizzly bear, moose, raven, and "Average Guy Steve," who is played by Robokoff.

Other cast members include Schatzie Schaefers, Rodney Lamb, Tim Tucker, Morgan Mitchell, and Jamie Nelson. Some also contribute as writers, as does Dawson Moore, who is coordinator for the renowned annual Last Frontier Theater Conference in Valdez, Alaska.

We recently attended a screening of the 1947 salmon-noir stinker, "Spoilers Of The North," and had a great time. The show included a 1950's U.S. Army Signal Corps serial, as well as a great (meaning, awful) music video.

Performances are the first and third weekend of each month, Friday and Saturday at 9:00pm, at the Alaska Wild Berry Theater in Anchorage. There is an intermission, and beer and wine are for sale and allowed inside the theater.

Script Reader Q&A (Seeking Pot O' Gold)

Arctic Circle along Dempster Highway

Last post introduced the "script reader," who can be an early hurdle on the screenwriter's journey towards a script sale. Today, we have a Q&A with three of those gatekeepers, who each kindly gave their time to answer a few questions from the reader's perspective.

They all work in the same industry, and to some degree have similar parameters to follow when covering a script, yet their answers are each unique to themselves.

Ladies And Gentlemen, Your Readers

Synthian Sharp - Synth is the reader I began a dialogue with on John August's site. He has read for independent production companies as well as the Jules Verne Adventure Film Festival, and Valley International Film Festival. He was lead composer on Val Kilmer's American Meth, and co-director of the film, How I Became An Elephant (heartbreaking, but check it out).

Jeanne Marie Spicuzza - Jeanne Marie reads for her own production company, seasons & a muse, where her film, The Scarapist, is currently in pre-production. She is a published poet, has performed at poetry slams worldwide, and has been featured at such events as Lollapalooza and Ladyfest.

Chip Street - Chip is a screenplay competition judge for the Shriekfest Horror Film Festival, and a pre-screener for the Santa Cruz Film Festival. He's optioned two of his own screenplays, and has worked in film production as a director, art director, and production designer. This is Chip.

Q&A

(I could use a new kind of free fall)

Matt Shields: You're having drinks with a visiting out-of-town amateur writer and he gets you loose enough to let him/her on some secrets... He's read the blogs, attended the Expo, subscribed to the magazines, taken McKee's course, read twenty-five of the WGA's "100 Best Screenplays," and his latest script placed well in a top comp. He's ready to take on Hollywood. What is the most important thing he still doesn't know?

Chip Street: That now it's time to stop thinking like a lone writer, and start thinking like a producer, like a collaborator. In many ways, Hollywood works like indie filmmaking, just with bigger checks. It's still a small community, where relationships matter and news travels fast. Where people want to work with other people who are fun to work with, and who are invested in the whole process. Writers who just want to take their check and disappear are less attractive than writers who are going to be involved in the project, help build the relationships with talent, be in on meetings or whatever else is needed. And for God's sake be pleasant. I've been told "I'd rather spend six months locked in a room on a project with a reasonably talented writer who's fun to work with than a brilliant writer who's an asshole." Those writers - the fun ones - are going to get more projects, and more referrals. Better yet, be the brilliant writer who's also fun to work with, and you're a god.

Jeanne Marie Spicuzza: A friend of mine and fellow poet, actress, playwright, once shared with me a great secret that stuck with me: When someone tells you they're a writer, always ask, "What are you reading now?"

Synthian Sharp: Ok, that person doesn't exist. Seriously. What you've just described is the big-fat-wet-dream submission. Primarily because, "He's read the blogs, and read twenty-five of the WGA's 100 Best." It would be hard for me to express just how far from that person most submissions are, but let me try. If even half of the raw naked spec submissions that came into Hollywood came from that person - meaning they had not only actually done these things, but had actually taken them to heart, and had actually studied and understood them - the world would not at all resemble the world you live in now. The very face of art, and, I dare say, even the political map, would have changed as a result of the severe alterations to the world's most powerful art form.

Indulge me for a moment, so that I can explain. I can say, absolutely and without hesitation, that every single spec screenplay I have ever been handed has been guilty of crimes against the standards of preparedness you mentioned above. All of them. This is coming from someone who doesn't just claim to respect the craft, but has actually taken the time to read the complete works of my favorite screenwriters, and learn from who they learned from, and count their sentences and parentheticals. If you asked me what Terry Rossio [screenwriter Pirates Of The Caribbean, Shrek, National Treasure] has to say about a given aspect of screenwriting, I can probably tell you what the blog post was called and which paragraph it's in, because I care. That's who your competition is.

Terry Rossio took the script of his idol and retyped it letter for letter, comma for comma, until he could hold the original and his copy lined up when he pressed them against a window, and see the structure standing out like an x-ray machine. Because he wanted to be a goddamned, mother-fucking millionaire. And he wanted to do it by telling stories.

As a second answer to the same question I would give you this: Read more than you write... Also, people can tell the difference between things that were inspired, and things that were manufactured. Don't ever manufacture. If you've got five screenplay ideas and four are what's hot right now, and one is that bizarre sub-genre period piece that you know Hollywood can't possibly have the balls for, but its still on your list cause you just can't get it out of your head, that's the one.

MS: Would a Preston Sturges (or any top writer from another era) script make it past any of you today?

Jeanne Marie: Yes. Especially Dorothy Parker.

Synthian: Yes. Top or not, I would lobby for rebellious material. I'd love to see "Brave New World" come across my desk. That must have been what it was like for whoever was handed "Memento". In the same sense that a hip-hop artist could make his bones today by recording over the phone from inside a prison, a Dalton Trumbo script I would beg for an excuse to get made simply because he'd been blacklisted. And the truth is, if you're a respecter of dialogue in the first place, you know that our standards have all but collapsed in that realm due to the rush-cycle of pop-culture production. Watch "Casablanca" with a pen and pad, and literally write down every single line of dialogue that became a catch phrase throughout our culture. You'll run out of paper because it's truly amazing. No modern film can do that. The dialogue in "The King's Speech" was written thirty years ago. Much of the dialogue in the Coen Brothers' "True Grit" adaptation was even older. But it's not that the capacity for good dialogue has disappeared from our fingers. We just don't respect it enough to raise it, and water it, and feed it from the ground up anymore...

Anyone interested in proof that great small-focus dialogue is still being written today should immediately head over to Amazon and watch a random episode of "Lark Rise to Candleford."

Chip: Had to Google a Sturges' script to see what it looked like. Found a copy of "Nothing Doing." It's not exactly a spec script, it's a production version, and includes shot descriptions and other details that I would hate in a spec. But setting that aside, it still suffers from many of my pet peeves: long solid blocks of description with no breaks (fifty lines!), overly specific description - down to explaining exactly how a logo is designed, and a parenthetical on nearly every dialogue slug. So, from a purely technical format standpoint, I'd have to say "no." That's the stuff that drives me nuts, and makes me want to shitcan a script instantly. Though I probably won't, not on page one. But, it will put me off, and it has to work really hard to win me back quick.

But that's the technical. Then there's the story. I do believe there's something brilliant about the economy of story in a lot of older films from the thirties and forties with regard to structure and character. It's almost poetic. I grew up on a lot of those old films, and still return to them. That's something I like to see in a script, and would be happy to let past me.

MS: You seldom (if ever) write a "recommend." What's so bad about "consider?" Don't they get a look?

Synthian: No. Writing "consider" already has some natural weights against it. Most prominently, that you didn't love the script. As a brilliant screenwriter once said, when asked what a screenwriter's job really is: "Simple. Make the bicycle fly." This of course in reference to "E.T." And they've either done it, or they haven't. Nobody wants to give a heartfelt "Eh?" Consider means: it ain't what you asked for, but the writer was so good that you didn't have a choice.

Chip: Screenplay contests are like American Idol. 10,000 people show up. Maybe 25 have some real potential, ten are uber talented, two or three are savants, and, if you're lucky, one is a true artist for the ages. You have to put 25 in the finals. That's just the rules. Those finalists are getting their look and they better deserve it. The winner's not likely to be an artist for the ages, but she damn well better be uber talented, if not a savant.

Reading for contests my "recommend" means move it to the finals. I'm not into putting William Hung, or Bikini Girl through just cuz it's good TV. I want the finals to be a steel-cage match of highly capable and brilliant contenders, any one of whom deserves to be the champ.

If I were reading for a prodco [production company], I'd probably be more demanding than I am as a contest reader. And I have a reputation for being a mean and ruthless contest reader. I get angry, physically pissed, at a truly shitty script. I hate the idea of rewarding mediocrity. And I hate the idea of wasting anyone else's time - those other hapless readers, say, who have to read all the finalists. Mostly, though, it's the rewarding mediocrity I hate. If your crappy script gets to the semis, you're going to think that what you're doing is good enough. It's not.

Jeanne Marie: Depends on the level of good, or bad.

MS: What keeps a reader honest to the slush pile of countless unknowns, instead of just promoting friends' scripts?

Jeanne Marie: Probably very little, unless he/she is of high moral character.

Chip: I got into production initially to understand how the script evolves into a finished film, the whole production process, so I'd be a better writer. I took acting classes to help me understand what actors need, so I'd be a better director. I take the opportunity to read as an opportunity to learn what really matters to a reader, what makes for a "recommend," or a "fail." I can't learn if I'm not honest - with the scripts and with myself - so, it's invaluable to put on my reader hat, be ruthless, and see what makes a great script great, and what kills a script.

As a reader, I'm looking for what most writers seem to think they're delivering: greatness. I always crack each script open with high hopes that it'll be great. I want people to be awesome. I want to find a script that makes me glad I spent ninety minutes of my life with it. If the script is truly great - it likely won't be, but I hope - it'll get a fair shake. I want the screenwriting universe to be peopled with great writers delivering great stories through great scripts. Finding great scripts by great writers - whoever they are - and rewarding that work, helps create the kind of universe I want to be a part of, and that's good for everybody. In the end, being honest to the slush strengthens the industry, and makes me a better writer.

Synthian: I have read every one of my "friends" scripts. Some, as many as three revisions, which is why the word friends must be in quotes. Their scripts are abusive weapons just like everyone else, and there is not a one I would make a "recommend" to risk my reputation for. Sorry. Nobody spends umpteen million dollars on something because they're a friend of that nice intern. Talent comes first... I'm in a luxurious position of being able to have my newest script read by some of the best and I wouldn't dare shame their desks with it. Not until it beats the ever livin' out of whatever else they may see. To illustrate that perfectly clearly to you: Last week I made a new title page in Final Draft for my current screenplay, so as to change the written by line to "Anonymous." That's how confident I have to be. Before I turn anything in, I have to be able to ask myself the question, "If this were to appear on [producer's] desks as an anonymous writing tomorrow, would it burn straight through this village like wildfire?"

I'll turn it in when the answer is yes. And if you can write that well first, then you'll beat me, and you deserve to.

MS: If the writing is entertaining, will you keep reading past standard benchmarks if things that are "supposed" to happen by then, have not happened? Or is your world hard-wired to three-act structure, etc?

Synthian: Ugh. Okay, I'm almost tempted to say I'm offended when a screenplay is Syd Fielded [Syd Field is an author of popular screenwriting books]. It just tends to show a hell of a lot less heart, passion, and instinct, than organizational skill. This is strictly a personal thing, but I just can't see myself recommending a script that doesn't at some point break at least one solid rule. Your job is to further the format. Yes, we all know what the restrictions are, but your job is to push it till it breaks. So, if you've had to make up some new convention of the thing just in order to be able to fit your universe into the limitations, I admire your needing to do that. Roll on with your Jedi self. However, you will find out very quickly that the opposite of that is true as well. Meaning, I seriously fucking challenge you to find me a script that, one, we don't know who we are or where we're going by page twenty, and two, is also entertaining writing. It just basically doesn't happen. Good writing is invisible. The three-act structure is supposed to be invisible. If you're looking for it, it's because you're an asshole. Good is good. Bad is bad.

There are basically three types of "reads." The third one we're just going to do away with because we're not talking about that here. It's where you're reading a legend, and you're there to learn from them and anything they do now becomes the new format... What we're concerned about as readers is the difference between the two first types of reads. One, the proof read, and two, the professional free-fall. What I'm asking for from you when you hand me your script, is for me to have the right to trust you're more than a pro, and that I can simply pretend your script is a skyscraper and I'm about to jump off the top, and as I fall I will hit nothing. I will keep turning pages as I plummet straight down through your story until I arrive at the inevitable conclusion, and stand up feeling only, exactly, the emotions you designed me to feel. That's what I want. Every legendary writer gives us that. Every single time. You can go pick up any David Webb Peoples script [Blade Runner, Unforgiven], or any Brian Helgeland script [Mystic River, Man On Fire] off the shelf and you will drop straight through, and the number of speed-bumps, or girders, or format errors, or confusion sessions you will hit on your way down is zero. Its what we dream of...

But, the mistakes of the amateur take our expected free fall and, one by one, page by page, slowly convince us that we cannot trust them. They little by little stop us from watching the story and turn it into a "proof read." And that makes you suck. Because the only way of avoiding that was a decision you made forever ago, because you didn't care about my time, and you decided not to read your free 150 or so Writer's Guild Library scripts, because you're a dick. Don't... be... a dick.

Jeanne Marie: My life allows me 12-15 pages. If it isn't moving me by then, it's all over.

Chip: Hell yeah. I'm big on structure, but what that means is flexible. Some of my favorite movies are slow builders and develop very organically over four acts. I look for escalation - within a scene, a character relationship, through a story - but hitting certain marks by certain pages is in no way a requirement for me. I think deconstructing stories to find those patterns is academically interesting, and sometimes those beats work. But I also think assuming it's some kind of template for success is what leads to, at best, uninspired work, and, at worst, a lot of predictable garbage.

Have a great idea. Execute with excellence. Know your formatting (spelling is a huge deal for me). And use whatever structure your story demands.

MS: Forget that paradigm! I want to write the next rule-breaking indie hit! Do indie production companies have readers? Do they follow different rules?

Chip: I don't read for prodcos, but I submit my work to them. I've optioned two scripts to indie prodcos, so I guess someone's reading scripts. Different rules? I'm sure they want great stories told well. That's the universal thing, right? In that sense, they follow the same rules. But, indies can take greater risks with films that are less commercially driven, that tell smaller stories, and that take structure apart and put it back together in a new and interesting way. In that sense, they can have a broader range of creative or commercial expectations. If you've got a rule-breaking script that's non-traditional, an indie prodco is probably your outlet. Thanks, indie prodcos!

Jeanne Marie: I'm too indie to answer that!

Synthian: Yes, they have readers, but the slush-pile is exactly the same. You'd be surprised how many writers with indie scripts are absolutely certain their script is "Independence Day," and how many "Independence Day" writers think their script is an indie. The lines are blurred now, and nobody can tell you you're wrong if you send more to one direction than the other.

Yes, they follow different rules. An indie production company I read for had a producer who, himself, had written a 165-page screenplay, which he had perceived as having done very well... ergo, the page limit for submissions at that particular office had arbitrarily become, 165. I've been sent on a hunt for the "world's greatest chamber piece" - a chamber piece is a film that takes place entirely, or almost entirely, in a single room or location, ie, "Buried," the first "SAW," "Reservoir Dogs." Its hard for me to imagine being asked to do that for a major. And one guy had been given an ice skating rink for the summer, so he needed all the best indie ice-skating rink scripts.

By all means, make your rule breaking screenplay, but don't assume its an indie. "Good" is what's wanted on posters tacked to every signpost in the production spectrum. So, if you know what you're doing, and still break a whole bunch of rules, then yeah, I could use a new kind of free fall. Send it to me.

Hollywood's Gatekeepers

Last ride with the Transalp, Turnagain Arm

You're an amateur screenwriter and you believe your screenplay is finally ready for the real world -- or you've simply grown tired of the actual work it takes to write and re-write -- but either way, you've long suffered the crap Hollywood puts out week after week until that fateful day it struck you, "My God! I can write better than this!"

And now here you are, script in hand. Ready to cash in.

Maybe create some art on the side.

Maybe even... Nah, it ain't that good, is it? Well, that final scene did make my mom cry... Oscar nom?

You weren't born into the industry. Your Kevin Bacon number is in the hundreds, so no connections you can work there.

You have to get it to a big-time producer. Or, even a middle-time producer...

Does the porn industry buy scripts? The soft-core kind, though -- you are a storyteller after all.

OK, OK, you're not that guy. You're serious. Even took a class.

But, your Kevin Bacon number is in the hundreds, and in order to get your sweat, blood, and tears into the hands of someone who can turn them into gold, you have to get past the gatekeepers.

Aka Readers.

Aka "Bitter."

Why bitter?

Because of the slush-pile.

This All Began When

I became engaged in a discussion over on screenwriter John August's site (Charlie's Angels, Big Fish, Corpse Bride) with another of the site's readers.

Turned out this reader, was a "reader."

I brought up the, "What do readers have to be bitter about?" question.

Hitting him with, "In my old job I was bled and vomited upon," before ending with, "How cool it would be to get paid while still in my robe with a pot of coffee nearby."

Really, reader-dude, what's there to complain about?

The Slush Pile

"That's because you're not thinking of scripts as weapons ... That just comes with understanding what the slush-pile really is. If you think you can take it because of your samurai training, you are sadly fucking mistaken and shall fall like the rest of us. For it is an unearthly Hell Mouth, and the very physical manifestation of the bottomless pits of hell. If you’re laughing right now, then it is simply because you have mistaken my warnings for frivolity. Warn your village, dude."

I was laughing, but I also had to concede I have never sifted through a slush pile.

Remember how, you, the hopeful screenwriter, suffered through all those bad movies week after week? Until that fateful day you realized, "I can write better than this," and sat down to give it a shot?

You weren't alone.

Numbers I've found show anywhere from 17,000 to 50,000 scripts are registered with the Writer's Guild every year. And those numbers don't include the thousands of scripts that aren't being registered, but still make it into "readers" slush-piles.

And slush-piles can take their toll.

As the reader alluded to in one response, there is more than one way to be vomited upon:

"Try to envision taking your old day job, only imagine that what they're throwing up on is your soul ... An endless row of strangers, throwing up on your soul."

"They're Just That Rare"

Whether it's a submission to a production company, or an entry to a screenwriting competition, your script will more than likely pass into the hands of one of these bitter strangers whose soul is drenched with vomit.

And, if they perceive they are about to be wretched upon again, they may just stop reading long before they get to that really good scene that made your mom cry.

So, take your time. Read some more. Write some more.

Once it is submitted, one of three words will be stamped somewhere on your script's coverage: Pass, Consider, or Recommend

You don't want "Pass," so, you re-write.

You don't really even want "Consider," so, another re-write.

"Recommend" is the key to the kingdom. One more re-write should do it.

Now that you've put in the really tough, extra hours, the hours you know the other guy didn't put in, you're sure to get that "Recommend."

How hard can it be?

"I now share with you, the most glorious fact of my experience as a reader: I never wrote a Recommend. – It never happened. – And while you might think with my attitude that’s because I quite obviously hate everything and couldn’t tell when a great script was in my hand to begin with, (a fear that very slowly occurred to me as well)… I then took a short break to go and see if screenplays were what I remembered. And guess what? Good writing was still good writing and I could still see it plain as day. 'Back To The Future' is a perfect script. – 'The Postman' is a perfect script. – 'Schindler’s List' is a perfect script. Which is the single most searing and irreplaceable lesson of the slush pile, and the cattle-branding realization you go there to get: They’re just… that… rare."

Don't Fret Yet

Oh ye with no "uncle in the business." There may still be a place for you at (or, at least under) the dinner table.

To help with your (and my) journey, a Q&A with three Hollywood gatekeepers will be posted here in the coming week. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, stop watching anything on TV that involves a ball or puck, and get back to work on your script.

[Quoted conversation taken from this dialogue on John August site]

AK Shorts (the films, not the pants)

Fireweed along road to Inuvik

Alaska's Public TV Short-Film Program

Fast fact: AlaskaOne is a statewide public broadcasting station formed during the 1990s when stations in Bethel, Fairbanks, and Juneau combined to better serve public television viewers outside the South-Central region with 24-hour programming.

One of AlaskaOne's newer programs is "AK Shorts."

Designed to showcase the work of amateur Alaskan filmmakers, AK Shorts puts together half-hour episodes of short-films of any genre, including documentary, animation, and experimental.

There have been three episodes broadcast to date, with a fourth currently in the works.

At least one film showcased in the AK Shorts program has also found success outside of Alaska. "OUTspoken: Being Gay in Fairbanks, Alaska" by Alaskan filmmaker Kelly Gitter, is currently being screened at the Boston 27th Annual LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) Film Festival.

Recently, television producer Deb Lawton answered a few questions about AK Shorts. Based in Fairbanks where she works for station KUAC, Deb helps oversee programming and submissions for AK Shorts.

Q&A

(Anyone got animation...)

Matt Shields: How long has AK Shorts been running?

Deb Lawton: We began seeking submissions about a year ago, and our first episode aired in late January. Episode three aired on May 2nd.

MS: What, or who, inspired the program?

Lawton: We were regularly receiving requests to air films produced by Alaskans and were frustrated by our inability to air them for a variety of reasons. AK Shorts was the result of a lot of internal discussion about how to overcome those issues preventing us from broadcasting many of the submissions we were receiving from Alaskans.

MS: What has the response been like?

Lawton: As with anything, it takes a while to establish a presence, and in this particular instance we are not shooting for any particular demographic, or genre, so that may muddy the waters a bit. We are truly interested in providing a venue for as broad a cross section of filmmakers out there.

Our first episode featured the shorts "Chuck Norris and the Chopsticks of Doom" by Tyler Williams. Will Bowman's "Apple Insanity," a music video, "Stumbling Upon A Dream," by Brian and Yelena Palmer, and Takashi Sakurai's "Where The River Begins," a documentary about an Alaska Native elder. Our second episode contained one longer film, "OUTspoken: Being Gay in Fairbanks, Alaska." [referenced in intro]

MS: Are you receiving submissions from all around the state?

Lawton: We have had submissions from around the state. Our last episode featured the work of young filmmakers from the village of Nikolai, Van Hanson of Sitka, and Marc Osborne of Ketchikan.

MS: Are you working with other film programs in Alaska? Such as "JUMP Society" in Juneau, or the recently formed "Open Projector Night" in Anchorage?

Lawton: Well, I've been aware of Pat Race and JUMP Society, and some of what they have been doing, and was excited to see them in [49th Films recent write-up on them]... But I don't really know much about those other programs. They sound interesting, and when you first mentioned them I started to think of ways something could be worked together with them in the future.

MS: Is there anything else you would like to add?

Lawton: I would really love to see more animation submissions! [hint]

(If you would like to submit your film please visit AK Shorts for submission guidelines. They would love to hear from you!)