Misstropolis

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Go Make a Movie - NOW!

by Tom Meek

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You can imagine my surprise 3 weeks ago when a Grub Street writing workshop acquaintance asked me to be the writer on his team for the 48 Hour Film Project. I have done plenty of writing in my time, but not much screenwriting, and I had heard horror stories about the pressure on the writer with the insane time constraint. After a moment’s deliberation, I jumped at the chance.

After all my Grub Street compatriot Larry Andersen, was a film editor by trade, and his co-director Frans Rijnbout, taught drama at Regis College: I figured we’d have nothing to worry about.

If you’re not familiar with the 48 Hour Film Project, it is an international filmmaking initiative which holds 48 hr filmmaking competitions all over the world. Teams do not know the genre or 3 obstructions (line of dialogue, prop and character) for their 4-7 minute film until the clock starts at 7 on Friday; so there’s no real way to get a head start. This year the Boston 48 Hour Film Project had 100 teams competing.

Before the event, Frans, Larry and I had 2 creative sessions, pondering the dozen or so genres we might select. Frans decided to act and also cast two female students of his. We also needed to cast an older woman with whom to pair him if need be. These became further restrictions as we bandied about possible storylines.

What concerned me at this stage was that they wanted to play everything for camp and comedy, and I did not see myself as a comic writer; I also worried about my ability to write authentically for a predominately female cast. My concerns went unheeded by Frans and Larry though; they assured me that together, we’d make it work.

To get a better grip on matters, I took it upon myself to script one of Larry’s ideas, which had to do with sex noises coming from a neighborhood house. Nobody much liked the plot, but they did like the characters and the dialogue. This and the fact that I pounded the script out at the right length and in short order, made me feel better. It wasn’t until then that I really began to believe I could do this.

Larry meanwhile assembled a crackpot team of technicians, cameramen, editors, sound people and tireless production help. We were becoming a real team.

Thursday before the big day we met at Larry’s house, and until 2AM talked through our plan. Larry and/or I would pick the genre and the 3 obstructions and jet down to Larry’s office on the other end of Newbury Street where Frans would be waiting. We’d cook up the story by 9, when the rest of the cast and crew would show up, and I’d go to a backroom and bang the script out by 11 or midnight.

It pretty much went that way (we got Superhero for genre, the prop was a shoelace, you know the character, and the line of dialogue was “When you come up with something good, let me know.") except what I thought was 10PM was really midnight, when Larry told me he was closing the place up. I was barely half way into a 7 minute script about a disenfranchised girl taking an online course at the Superhero Academy of America. Yes, that is where I was.

So I hopped on my bike (I live in Cambridge) and cruised up Newbury Street hoping the cool night air and Friday night creatures would stir my creativity. I stopped at the Cambridge Common for a beer to collect my thoughts. Then I went back to work. At 4AM, running on fumes and tearing, I finished, but I wasn’t happy.  My creative spark was gone. I worried I’d let the team down, I worried I was too tired to care. Larry emailed that he NEEDED the script. Shooting would begin at 6am and they needed me there at 8 for revisions.

Like a zombie I pedaled to the shoot location by 7:30AM. As I pulled up Larry told me I had to hurry and write the scene they were currently setting up for. In retrospect this as much as anything else underscores the madness of the beast we were wrestling. They had made changes, but the concept, characters and most of the scenes remained. I sat in the middle of the den pounding away, as people waited eagerly for their lines, or props they had to fetch. Normally this would distract me, but there I felt like a maestro inspired by the eager energy of my audience. By 1PM when I finished tweaking and sharing my vision with the co-directors, I was suddenly the lowest man on the totem pole, I wasn’t needed.

I stuck around to watch a bit of the arduous process of setting up, rehearsing and shooting and finally went home for a shower and dinner with my wife. Before going to bed, I emailed Larry to see how things had gone. He emailed me back (didn’t get it til the next morning) saying they had wrapped by midnight and he needed me to help him change the title. Our heroine was a teenager who could turn invisible, and there was something itchy that was causing people in the neighborhood to sell their houses at below market rates (remember this is a superhero comedy). We came up with a title.

I took a bike ride out to Waltham, played a game of Ultimate and enjoyed the sun with my wife. Larry had told me that if I wanted to see the cut, I should come by his office later in the day. When I showed up at 6PM and buzzed the buzzer, I was told that the tech crew was so slammed that no one had time to come down and let me in. So I waited till some of the crew emerged to photocopy release forms and darted in.

The film looked great, but was not put together yet. The official deadline was 7:30PM, at Lir a mile up the road. At 6:45PM, I was nervous, but Larry and the editors and sound techs seemed cool as can be. At 7:20PM, they had not even begun to make the final transfer (which runs in real time,) and the film was about 8 minutes long. Then the computer crashed. We had no time to spare, and were probably already disqualified for tardiness. But we had to try.

Larry and I agreed that I would wait on my bike ready to go. I circled around on the sidewalk, looking at my cell phone, wondering if this had all been for naught. At 7:29PM Larry popped out on the street, handed me the tape like a relay runner, and off I went. I flew down Newbury and over to Boylston, heading the wrong way. I rode furiously, waving cars out of my way, so convincing that I never got a honk or a finger. I arrived at Lir, tossed my bike against the wall and flew down the stairs to the basement. On a mic. below I could hear the director counting off the seconds until the 48 hours were officially up and any late entrant would be disqualified. He was past 30 seconds by the time I heard “You’re in” at the drop-off table.

Shaken, but pleased, I made my way to the bar where several other beleaguered filmmakers slumped with relief. I ordered a shot of tequila and saluted everyone and nobody.

Quin Quimby and the Itchy Scourge plays at Kendall Square Theater along with other selected 48 Hour Film Project Shorts on Wednesday, May 9th at 9:15PM. Order tickets here. Or watch the trailer for a sneak peek.