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For the past month or so, I've been spending a lot of time reading first round applications for the First Cut Film Series, our competition to find the top five film students in the country, then to finance, produce and theatrically release each of their first feature films.
And, to be honest, I'd begun to have some doubts. Not because of any problems with the applications themselves, but because of how much they, in this first round, still leave to the imagination. A short synopsis, a couple of bios (director, writer, producer), and a few pages of screenplay isn't a lot to go on.
Of course, that was the point of the round: an attempt to initially separate the wheat from the chaff. Still, without any of the directors' work to screen until round two, I've had no real idea whether any of them can make movies that feel like real movies, rather than like student theses, and I'd started to fear the worst.
Today, however, I spent several hours screening graduate student shorts as one of the judges for NYU Film School's Wasserman Awards, their top honor for outstanding achievement in film*. And, in short, I was blown away. Sure, some of the stuff was exactly the sort of amateur-hour crap I'd feared. But at least two or three of the films were so astoundingly good that the judges actually clapped once they ended.
When the lights came up after one, another of the judges said, 'shit, somebody needs to give this guy a million bucks and tell him to just go make a feature.'
Which is good, considering that's basically what we're about to do.
*[Side story: as past Wasserman winners include Ang Lee and Spike Lee, I went in looking for any other Lee's who might have a leg up. There weren't any, though there was a Jennifer Li, and while I won't give away anything before NYU announces the awards, I will say her short was definitely in the top five.]
Caucuses? Primaries? No, no. In the film business, January means something far more 'important': Sundance.
Yes, in just a week and change, the Cyan team and I (and Jess, who's bravely jumping into the fray) head off to Park City, Utah. The countdown begins.
This morning, I'm thrilled to announce the official launch of Cyan's next big project: The First Cut Film Series.
The idea is simple: find the top five film students in the country, then produce and theatrically release each of their first feature films.
I'm excited about the Series for a lot of reasons, but first and foremost because of all the great people involved. For example, we have some heavyweight indie producers attached to each Executive Produce one of the five films; the lineup includes Jeb Brody (Little Miss Sunshine), Rene Bastian and Linda Moran (Transamerica), Scott Macaulay and Robin O'Hara (Raising Victor Vargas) and Michael Roiff (Waitress).
There's a lot more info, as well as an application - open to any current graduate or undergraduate film (or related major) student or alum of the last two years - up at www.firstcutfilmseries.com.
Help us spread the word!
At the request of several friends in the hedge fund world, late this month I'll be giving a talk titled 'How Not to Get Screwed Investing in Film." About 65 folks have RSVP'ed thus far, but we still have a few more seats.
The talk is in midtown Manhattan, from 7:00-8:30pm on June 28th. So, if you'd like to attend (or if you can't attend but would just like to get a copy of the slides and audio), email my office and let us know.
I'll do my best not to make it suck.
Well, not immediately next, as that's actually Naming Number Two, which hits theaters nationwide beginning July 27th:

But, right after that, Cyan embarks on a ridiculously ambitious project I'm officially announcing here for the first time:
The First Cut Film Lab, a brand-sponsored series of five first feature films from the top five film school students in the country.
Applications in September, finished films in theaters one year later, September '08.
This one's going to be a doozy.
Political strategists like to say that politics is retail. Despite the big ad budgets and televised campaigns, it's the good old fashioned hand shaking and baby kissing that actually swings votes. As we gear up for Cyan's next film release, we're branching a bit outside of industry norm, and betting along the same lines.
We'll be releasing the film fairly broadly for an indie movie - in NYC, for example, on five screens. So a big win for us would be a $10k per screen average opening weekend. That would set up the film for easy national expansion with strong theater chain support.
Again, $10k average, fairly broad release. But hitting that means, for the New York screens, getting just 5000 people in all of New York City to see the film. Just five thousand!
Given the relatively small size of that number, and given that we're opening the film initially in a finite number of cities (four the first weekend, eight more the next), we're betting it's practical - and potentially hugely helpful - to work retail politics in every single one of those cities.
So, this week, we've been pulling together ten-person street teams in each of those cities, and lining up bulk orders of postcards stapled to silk-flower leis (as the film is about a Fijian family in New Zealand), enough to hand out 10,000 of them in each city in front of theaters, churches, nail salons, anywhere and everywhere we think we might find movie-going members of our target demographic.
Sure we'll also be driving our standard print, online and radio publicity and advertising pushes. And, given that we're a degree removed from a successful sale (you buy tickets from theaters, not from us), it may prove nearly impossible for us to determine which route is actually putting butts in seats.
Still, we think it's worth the effort. Do what everyone else does, and you get what everyone else gets. Which, in the world of indie film distribution, sadly isn't too much.
Continuing the 'excitement' of moving into new office space: we're still without land lines, and cell coverage remains dodgy at best in our semi-industrial loft of a space.
As a result, I've been having a lot of conversations like:
Me: So, our media buying plan [silence intermixed with crackling and popping sounds for five or ten seconds] by mid April.
AMC / Loews Executive: Are you on a cell phone??
Me: Haha.... no, of course not... [climbs on window ledge in hopes of better reception].
My recent stretch of working from home ended this Monday, when Cyan moved into a new office space just below Union Square.
And while I'll certainly miss the ten foot commute, I'm fortunate to be working in an industry where I can come to work with my hair looking just as ridiculously unkempt as it did in the privacy of my own living room.
Brian Grazer, look out.
Despite an Academy Awards full of relatively few surprises (though, Melissa Etheridge? Melissa Etheridge!?!?), this year's Cyan Oscar Pool contestants were all over the map.
At the top of the heap was, well, me. I submitted an entry to test out the system before linking it, and my own guesses were closer to right than any of you suckers. And while that probably means I'm justified in running a movie company, it also violates what the fine print would say about no employee entries, if this competition had fine print.
So, tossing me out of the race, and knocking off just a couple more right answers, we get our first eligible winner, "Dahlia Thompso", which I think actually may be Dahlia Thompson typing too fast to include the trailing letter n. If so, Mrs. T, please weigh in to claim your prize.
And then, at the other end of the spectrum, is our fabled 'booby prize', is a tie between Kelly Jeide and Christine, who, wisely, went last-nameless. If either Kelly or Christine care to own up, there are DVD prize packs headed their ways as well; heaven knows they need some good movies.
[For these three ladies, and for anyone else feeling the need to weigh in on Oscars, self-aggrandizement, etc., email is newman [at] cyanpictures.com]
While most of Cyan's efforts these days are on the distribution side, we also have a thumb in the production pie. Witness Premium, an urban comedy in which Cyan invested, that opens tomorrow in select Southern markets.
We're not distributing the film ourselves, and, to be frank, it's not as near and dear to our hearts as Cyan's next releases (for the record: Naming Number Two, which hits theaters Mother's Day weekend, and Speed & Angels, which should follow shortly thereafter in mid June). But, if you live in in Georgia, North Carolina or Virginia, and you don't have any other plans, check it out. It's sure as hell better than The Number 23, or anything else opening wide this weekend.
Yes, I know I'm supposed to be writing about web sites right now. But, as we did it last year, and as we wanted to do it again, I'm taking a quick break to announce the now Second Annual Cyan Pictures Oscar Pool. Weigh in with your predictions, and the closest guess will win a care package of DVDs of Cyan's next five releases.
[Also, please use your full name at the bottom of the form; we aren't collecting email addresses, so will instead be announcing the winner's name the day after the Oscars at cyanpictures.com and here at self-aggrandizement.com.]
Via Blackberry Messenger:
Josh: I'm sitting at a table with Gary Coleman
Jess: Wawaweewa
Josh: Wawaweewa indeed
My Sundance experience is now incontrovertibly complete.
So far today, I've walked past Nick Nolte, Jeremy Sisto, Scott Speedman and Cameron Crowe. Each was mobbed by an autograph-, photograph-seeking crowd. And each reminded me, as ever, that being famous would pretty much totally suck.
The flight attendant told me that, normally, passengers on Delta's 7:25am flight from Newark to Salt Lake City are fast asleep, rarely move around much. But, today, she noted, the aisles were packed with people wandering around, pacing back and forth.
That's because, I explained, Sundance began today, and the plane was completely packed with New York film types too neurotic to sit long in the same place.
The fun begins.
Spurred on by the strong reviews and ongoing box office, the Two Boots Pioneer Theater has extended the run of Ever Since the World Ended by a week.
If you meant to see the film last weekend but never got around to it, here's your second chance.
This Thursday, I head off to the Sundance Film Festival, during which I will not be blogging at all. Before each such film festival, I usually say that I'll be covering things online, day by day. And then, I get there, post once or twice, stop posting completely, and end up guiltily summarizing the rest of the fest after the fact. So, lest it be said I never learn from my mistakes, this year, I make no such promises. If I post something during, consider it icing on the self-aggrandizement cake.
But, to set the stage for any possible though certainly not promised posts, allow me to repeat an observation I make yearly: by most counts, Sundance, Slamdance, and the other concurrent festivals bring some 70,000 people to Park City, Utah. And while that's not far off from the numbers the Toronto or Tribeca festivals attract, dropping 70,000 bodies into New York or Toronto barely makes a dent. Whereas with 70,000 people added to a city of 7,882, like Park CIty, the infrastructure is completely overwhelmed, everything starts falling apart, and life more or less grinds to a functional halt.
That, along with countless other factors - certainly not the least of which being the nature of all too many of those 70,000 attendees - similarly leads me yearly to the same conclusion about Sundance: it's everything I love about movies, and everything I hate about the movie industry.
Should be 'fun'.
I mentioned it once before, but Ever Since the World Ended opens tonight in NYC.
We didn't shoot it ourselves, but our distribution arm is putting it out because we think it's great and it deserves to be seen.
Ever Since the World Ended is set twelve years after a plague has wiped out most of the world's population. Two filmmakers set out through a deserted San Francisco, filming a documentary about the tiny community of 186 people still living there.
It's a small film, with a no-name cast. But it's also remarkably good. The New York Times liked it quite a bit, and Time Out New York gave it four stars. Plus, a slew of other publications glowingly reviewed it at earlier screenings.
The film is playing from today (Wednesday 1/10) through Wednesday 1/17 at the Two Boots Pioneer Theater (E. 3rd St and Ave A, ).
Do me and yourself the favor of checking it out.
With the DVD release of The Oh in Ohio well underway, and early preparations beginning for our next two similarly large releases (both hitting theaters nationwide in the first half of 2007), we're also taking a bit of time to release an art-house science fiction film that we really love, beginning with a New York theatrical run opening January 10th.
Though I'll be posting a bit more detail in the next week or two, here's enough to hopefully whet your appetite:

"It's The Blair Witch Project with brains and a social conscience."
- Box Office Magazine
"Wow! The acting is fantastic. I was mesmerized by these performances."
- Hollywood Report Card
"Powerful...a fascinating saga... superbly executed, surprisingly ambitious, and looks smashing on a big screen"
- Hollywood Reporter
"It's an intriguing idea, ingeniously done."
- Time Out, London
"A clever new take on the genre."
- Ain't it Cool News
"Evokes memories of the best Twilight Zone tales, employing a powerful narrative and minimum of special effects to create a chilling vision of the not so distant future."
- Independent Film & Video Monthly
"Powerful"
- Filmmaker Magazine
"A hugely convincing portrait of a largely-collapsed civilization. After this was over, it was an enormous relief to walk out onto Sunset Boulevard and discover there were still people around."
- Trash City
"An engaging drama that raises intriguing questions"
- LA Weekly
"A brilliant movie with a mesmerizing atmosphere of realism and sometimes disconcertingly relevant insight"
- Movie Pie
A quick note for all aspiring film entrepeneurs in New York City:
The Institute for International Film Financing, based in San Francisco, is now branching out to our fair city. It's a great group in which to network with other business-minded film folks, and their inaugural NYC event this Thursday evening has an impressive lineup of speakers. Plus, me.
I'll be talking about finding and seducing investors, and I promise the talk itself is far better than the name (which I didn't come up with myself), "THE FILM ENTREPRENEUR'S GUIDE TO SUCCESS: Strategies for Funding Your Film Co & Keeping Investors Happy".
Other folks will be talking about deal structure, courting hedge funds, tax credits, profitably distributing documentaries, and approaching film investment from a quantitative perspective.
While I realize most of you fell asleep even just reading that last sentence, I also don't doubt there are a handful of folks who wet their pants a little bit at the prospect of that lineup. If you're one of them, come on down, and certainly pop over to say hello.
Called Rob Barnum, the head of Cyan's San Francisco office to ask how he and the rest of our Toronto Film Festival delegation were holding up five days into their trip.
"Well," he replied, "let me put it this way. When I got back from a bunch of industry parties last night, I called the hotel's front desk to ask them for an 8:00am wakeup call. They said, 'um, sir, it's 8:30am."
Running a film company: not for the faint of constitution.
As I know a lot of would-be filmmakers read this site, wanted to quickly post an internship opportunity at This is That, an excellent production company here in New York. Definitely worth applying for any NYC producers-in-the-making:
This is That Corporation (producer of ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND and 21 GRAMS) is seeking a business/marketing oriented individual to support its film fund team. Strong communication skills a must. Responsibilities will be mostly administrative, including sending marketing materials to and keeping track of communication process with potential investors. This position is unpaid, but offers great exposure to the film producing environment, and opportunity to learn about the film industry and film financing in particular.
September start date. Flexible schedule, but prefer individual who can work at least 2-3 days per week.
If interested, please send resume to ggasst@gotofilmfund.com
"This nicely naughty indie is full of unexpected pleasures...a feel-good movie about feeling good."
- New York Times
"One of the wittiest and most intoxicating sex comedies to come along in years"
- Oakland Tribune
"It can't help but leave you with a good feeling."
- Los Angeles Daily News
"Posey and Rudd are the real deal."
- LA Weekly
"Danny DeVito steals the show."
- Los Angeles Times
"Hilarious - and in all the appropriate places."
- Ain't It Cool News
"Satire is awfully hard to pull off, but screenwriter Adam Wierzbianski exhibits a flair for it."
- San Francisco Chronicle
"Blithely blurs the line between risqué and raunchy."
- Variety
"Your summer film has finally arrived."
- Cleveland Plain Dealer
We've already sold out the Friday Oh in Ohio screenings in Cleveland; here's hoping for full houses tomorrow night in NYC, SF and LA as well.
This Friday night, Cyan Pictures releases THE OH IN OHIO, starring Parker Posey, Paul Rudd, Danny DeVito, Mischa Barton, Heather Graham and Liza Minnelli.
It's in theaters in and around New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles and Cleveland this weekend, then expands nationally in August.
Ohio won the audience award at every festival in which it competed, and has pulled in a slew of strong pre-release reviews (from places like Variety and The Hollywood Reporter and Ain't it Cool News ). Check out the the trailer and see for yourself
So, watch the film this weekend. And, if you're watching it on Friday night, join us at one of our informal bi-coastal premiere parties.
New York: See the film Friday at 7:30pm @ the Loews 19th St. Then head down to B Bar (40 E. Fourth St.) and get plastered.
San Francisco: See the film Friday at 7:30pm @ the Landmark Lumiere. Then head over to Vertigo (1160 Polk St.) and get equally plastered.
Los Angeles: See the film Friday evening, wherever you want. Then head to Sushi Dan (8000 W. Sunset Blvd.) from 10:00 on and get plastered with sushi nearby.
Oh in Ohio. In theaters Friday. Be there. Bring friends.
Thanks much,
josh
With Cyan's release of The Oh in Ohio just around the corner (7/14 in New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco and Cleveland; 8/4 in a whole lot of additional cities nationwide), my days are crazier than ever.
Nearly every newspaper and magazine you can think of has RSVP'ed to our slew of upcoming press screenings; trailers, posters, screeners and prints of the film are high-tailing it around the country via FedEx; and early buzz is brewing in our favor. Consider IMDB's take:
Unless it gets swallowed up by blockbusters and higher-profile indies, this stealth sex comedy should go into wider and wider release as the summer picks up. We hear Posey's physical comedy is aces, Rudd's brooding is unparalleled, and DeVito doesn't plays it as hammy as you'd expect. Liza Minnelli locks down another bizarro role as a sex guru, while Heather Graham goes uncredited as a clerk who gets Parker P. hooked on the buzz.
And, of course, on a daily basis, everything falls apart completely, then somehow gets pieced tenuously back together. One of my Cyan colleagues tagged an email last night: "I should have been a doctor."
Another, this morning, commented that he felt like "a Vietnam soldier considering shooting himself in the foot just to get pulled from the front line."
[Though we dropped the name Long Tail Releasing for Cyan's distribution arm largely because having two different company names was confusing the hell out of people, I've also had increasing reservations about the extensive philosphical waxing going on around the internet about the power and importance of the Long Tail effect in film.
As I continually receive emails asking for my thoughts on the matter, I thought I'd post my usual response here.]
There's a great David Foster Wallace essay about television, "E Pluribus Unum", in which Wallace states:
TV is not vulgar and prurient and dumb because the people who compose the audience are vulgar and dumb. Television is the way it is simply because people tend to be extremely similar in their vulgar and prurient and dumb interests and wildly different in their refined and aesthetic and noble interests.
Which, essentially, is the classic argument for the importance of the Long Tail in media: if only we could democratize distribution sufficiently, we could let all this wonderful, refined niche content find its own set of consumers!
That's a lovely idea. But, speaking as someone who gets sent reams of unreleased indie films each day, I can definitively say most of the film along the far end of the Long Tail isn't there because it's niche-ey, it's there because it's remarkably badly made.
So, at some level, the Long Tail is the result of a sort of Darwinian winnowing process, in which the 15,000 films submitted each year to Sundance, Cannes and TriBeCa are pared to the hundred or so fit for broader consumption. And, looking back over the past ten years, as the number of films submitted to festivals has exploded yet the overall quality of films released hasn't much changed, I'm not sure that a larger quantity of films along the tail necessarily dictates better films at the head.
However, I do believe that, between the crap in the Long Tail, and the major releases in the head, there exists a sort of 'medium tail' - content too small to justify release given the economics of traditional film distribution, yet quite good and potentially highly appealing to at least a specific, focused audience group. That's where changes in how film distribution works should really intersect with Long Tail thinking in a positive way.
A quick post to let the world know that I'm in Austin at the moment for SxSW, an odd little festival I can best describe as what would happen if you crossed Sundance with MacWorld.
The Oh in Ohio premieres here this evening, with the lovely Helen Jane Hearn and Aubrey Sabala escorting me down the red carpet as dual dates.
I'm back in NYC by Wednesday, however, in time for an Underground fundraiser. If you're in the city, and fancy a Maker's Mark open bar, come on by.
The Cyan Pictures First Annual Oscar Pool closes tonight at midnight; if you've been meaning to throw your vote into the fast-growing pile, here's your last chance. Go! Go now! And don't forget to give your full name, or I won't be able to track you back down when you win, as we're not collecting emails.
In other news, as our having two company names - Cyan Pictures and Long Tail Releasing - was apparently too confusing for most agents and producers, we're sadly dropping the Long Tail name, and calling everything (both production and distribution) Cyan.
So, with that in mind, the latest distribution-side news from Cyan: two new films we acquired just earlier this week, which we've slated for mid-summer and early fall theatrical release, respectively.
The Oh in Ohio, starring Parker Posey, Paul Rudd, Danny Devito, Mischa Barton, Heather Graham and Liza Minnelli. A smart and very quirky comedy, "The Oh in Ohio tells the story of Priscilla Chase (Posey), a young Cleveland woman who seems to have it all - the perfect job, the perfect house, the perfect husband - except for in bed, where sex has always left her a bit short of the finish line. When the problem drives her husband (Rudd) to unexpectedly leave her for one of his high school students (Barton), Priscilla’s idyllic world is shattered. She sets out on a quest to become just as good at sex as she is at everything else in life - a wild journey that leads her into the arms of the man she least expected (DeVito), and to the discovery that satisfaction often comes from the most unlikely places."
We Go Way Back, an indie drama that won both the Grand Jury prize and Kodak Vision Award for best cinematography at Sundance's sister festival Slamdance, a month back. Loglined as "a funny, tender character study about a young actress named Kate whose refusal to admit to her romantic and professional dissatisfaction leads her to a surreal confrontation with her own past," it's also the best, most subtle look at quarter-life crisis I've ever seen on film. Plus, it's beautifully written, shot and acted, and scored by indie-rocker Laura Veirs with a slew of The Decemberists' music in as well.
I'm unequivocally excited about both films, and think you all should be, too. More details on these, and the handful of other similarly cool post-Sundance acquisitions we're still chasing down, over the next few weeks.
Oh, and final note: both of these films will be part of the Oscar Pool prize pack. Further incentive to put on your best Academy thinking caps.
Entries keep rolling in for Cyan's First Annual Oscar Pool. From them, I've deduced three main points:
I have no idea who you people are. Seriously, I recognize the names on, at most, 10% of the entries. Percentage-wise, that's about the same as the ratio between the number of visitors to this site, and the total number of people I've ever met in my life who I could plausibly imagine coming here. Who the hell are you other 90%, and what the hell are you doing reading my drivel?
James Surowiecki was right - there's a definite wisdom that emerges from a crowd. Though some categories are closer than others, in nearly every one, a clear Oscar favorite has shaken out. The day before the awards, I'll be closing the Cyan polls and posting the collective results; should be interesting to see how closely we mirror the Academy itself.
That wisdom only appears, however, when people use some basis for their decisions other than the age-old 'rectal generation method.' Which is to say, given the utterly random scattershot of answers for the three best short categories, it's clear you people are pulling guesses for those out of your collective ass.
Two months back, I mentioned that Colin suckered me into helping log his just-shot film, Underground. Logging is the process of capturing video from tape to harddrive, and of slicing, dicing and notating it for the editor, who runs with things from there.
After viewing the editor's first month of work, however, it's clear she didn't so much 'run' with the film as 'limp painfully in a sideways direction' with it.
So, combining the philosophies of 'if you want something done right, do it yourself' and 'misery loves company', Colin gave the editor the boot, took on editing the film himself, and, this morning, somehow conned me into agreeing to co-edit it with him.
There's now a copy of Final Cut Pro HD for Dummies sitting on my desk. Which, given the obvious stupidity of me jumping into this, seems an appropriate choice.
Earlier this afternoon, I stopped in to Starbucks for a business meeting. And though I normally buy my coffee beans elsewhere, I was there, I had a gift card to blow through, and so decided to pick up a pound.
As I sorted through the bags of choices, I heard myself ask, "are any of these coffees Fair Trade certified?"
Which, in all of my prior life, I had never even considered asking - having, similarly, say, never chained myself to a large redwood tree at the threat of its clear-cutting.
At Sundance, however, I had watched the documentary Black Gold, which dives deep into the world of coffee, examining the intertwining of farmers, traders, unions, multinationals, consumers and corner coffee shops. The film is taglined, "your coffee will never taste the same again," which, apparently, is correct.
So as I paid for my first (or, at least, for my first proactively selected) bag of Fair Trade beans, I thought about Black Gold, and was struck, as I am every few months, by a wave of profound appreciation for the power of film.
Somehow, ninety minutes spent sitting in the dark, watching lights flicker against a blank wall, had left me seeing the real world itself in a new, different way.
And, as I look over our year's plans for Cyan, as we prepare to make a few announcements next week and to roll ahead on some big actions throughout the rest of the month, I'm happy to see that we're increasingly refocusing on that power of film, on wielding it in a smart, purposeful way.
Which makes me think, now more than ever, this definitely beats having a real job.
With the Oscars just a month off, we're kicking off an official Cyan Pictures Oscar Pool. So, head over, weigh in with your predictions on whose names will be pulled out of those little envelopes, and, if you're the closest guesser, win a care package of free copies of Long Tail's next five releases.
[Also, please use your full name at the bottom of the form; we aren't collecting email addresses, so we won't be able to announce your win with just a first name.]
The last time I ended up the subject of a comic strip, it was in Yale's campus newspaper, after I had broken up with a girl who penned one of the regular cartoons, and who used that podium to extract thinly-veiled revenge over several subsequent weeks.
I fare better this time through, popping up mid-way through the latest, Slamdance-focused iteration of CulturePulp, a strip penned by Mike Russell for The Oregonian.
Also, for the record, and even if the tinting of my glasses as drawn in the strip might make it appear otherwise, I have not yet reached the point of Hollywood douche-baggery that is wearing sunglasses indoors.
Though I'd hoped to blog Sundance as it happened, or, at least, to recap it soon thereafter, things went better than expected at the festival, and I've been swamped nonstop since. Look for exciting news, on both the Cyan and Long Tail fronts, over the next week or two.
Still, before I try to jump back into blogging per usual, I wanted to throw out a few Sundance thoughts.
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By most counts, Sundance, Slamdance, and the other concurrent festivals bring some 70,000 people to Park City, Utah. And while that's not far off from the numbers the Toronto or Tribeca festivals attract, dropping 70,000 bodies into New York or Toronto barely makes a dent. In a city of 7,882 people, however, the infrastructure is completely overwhelmed, everything starts falling apart, and life more or less grinds to a functional halt.
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There's a running joke within our company that we all look essentially the same: guys in their mid-twenties with spiky hair, scruffy beards, and indie-preppy clothing. Which, in short, made us blend perfectly with every single other film person invading Park City.
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If the people all looked the same, so did the films. The secret recipe to get into Sundance or Slamdance this year appears to be a combination of jump cuts, out of focus dreamlike sequences with overlapping snippets of voice over, and an ending that involves panning slowly to the sky. Would-be filmmakers, take note.
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Sundance was also a great verification of our collective taste. We somehow managed to pinpoint, and send distribution offers to, every lower-profile film that went on to win audience or jury awards. Fortunately, it looks like our song and dance was good enough that we'll still be able to lock at least several of them down for Long Tail release. Plus, on the Cyan side, one film in competition that we had initially signed on to finance but missed the chance to actually produce was an ongoing festival belle. Sure, there's no money in near-misses, but it's always nice to discover we're not totally off the reservation.
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Ten days is a long, long time to spend at a film festival. It essentially consists of three great days, followed by three tiring ones, followed by four where everyone is moments away from stabbing themselves in the eyeball with a fork. Liver damage and lack of sleep added up, and we were fairly loopy for the last weekend. A VP at a company we're collaborating with suggested we have someone follow my colleagues and me around with a camera, with an eye towards a Comedy Central special. Though, in the cold, well-rested light of post-Sundance day, I suspect even we ourselves would have found everything a bit less 'clever'.
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Speaking of cold, it snowed and snowed while we were there. My shoes soaked through, but we did get in at least one morning of fresh powder skiing (which included a Cyan / Long Tail VP plowing into a bottom-of-the-run tree), and I even got to take over the wheel for a shuttle driver who had wedged his van into the ice in front of our driveway. I tore up my hand squishing salt under the back wheel, but, at least, after rescuing the airport-bound passengers from missing their flights, one joked that they should give me rather than the driver the tip.
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Sundance in twelve words: a great reminder that I love movies but hate the movie industry.
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Along those lines, why are industry parties fun? I'm not sure I remember any longer. Especially during the first weekend, we spent full hours elbowing our way to the door of parties, even when we were on the list. Echo Lake's party for Dreamland was one happy exception, if just for the chance to stand next to a drunken, salsa dancing Matt Dillon. And special thanks to Belvedere and Grand Marnier, who sponsored a series of small Cyan / Long Tail cocktail parties at our house. The birth of a new Sundance tradition.
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Another new tradition: the house itself. While we wedged in fourteen people the first weekend, by mid-week, it had cleared out to just the four attending members of the Cyan / Long Tail crew. Large, beautiful, with hot tub and sauna, and just a half block from the Main St. shuttle stop, the house is already ours again for next year. Though we do, unfortunately, have to read the owner's screenplay as part of the bargain.
Ah, the joys of the movie business.
11:30pm
Though, in standard anal-retentive style, I've packed days ago most of what I'll need in Park City, I spend a last hour wedging a few remaining items into my large duffel, pressing blazers and ski boots and paperwork and socks down hard to zip the bag tightly closed, before falling asleep.
2:36am
My cell phone rings, waking me; it's Napster founder Sean Parker, who's heading to a Rolling Stones after-party with Canadian record label CEO Matt Drouin. I consider briefly going out to meet them, partying straight through the night and sleeping on the plane, but common sense prevails. Ten days at Sundance will be more than tiring enough without coming in already a full night's sleep in debt.
7:00am
Up again, shower and dress, then grab a taxi to the Upper East Side, to pick up colleague Scott Bromley and head off to La Guardia. Our flight boards painfully slowly, as a seventeen-person Iranian extended family has pre-boarded, with very little command of English, and even less understanding of air travel. They're in the wrong seats, they're piling bags on their laps and in the aisles rather than in the overhead bins. And as we taxi out towards takeoff, they keep standing up and wandering around. Each time one does, the plane grinds to a halt, and the captain comes on the loudspeaker, like an irritated father pulling his minivan to the side of the road and threatening to turn it back around until his kids in the back seat knock it off.
The captain actually does threaten to turn around the plane, as if we keep stopping, we'll lose our place in line yet again, and have to head back to the gate to refuel. While these English threats mean little, the 'just you try and mess with me' expression of the heavy-set, matronly Black flight attendant is apparently international enough to work.
1:05pm
We arrive in Atlanta, twenty-five minutes into a short forty-five minute connection. Muscling our way through the Iranians and out onto the concourse, we discover that we're in Terminal A, while our flight to Salt Lake City leaves from Terminal E, at precisely the opposite end of the airport. We sprint, monorail impatiently, then sprint again, arriving just in time to find out our flight's been delayed. At least, now, our baggage is likely to make it, too.
2:00pm
As we board, it becomes immensely clear, just by looking around, that every single person on the plane is bound for Sundance. Scott looks back at me as we walk past row after row of Williamsburgers, and says with a wry smile, "I think this might be the coolest flight in all of America."
2:15pm
The man I'm seated next to smells strongly of clam chowder. Across the aisle, however, I'm surprised to find several execs from Belladonna, the producers of Transamerica and L.I.E., in whose offices I've spent countless afternoons. "Fancy meeting you here," one of them says.
Further up, I see the father of my college roommate James Ponsoldt, who has a film he wrote and directed, Off the Black premiering at the festival this weekend.
The world of film, it seems, is dangerously small.
2:30pm
We take off without incident, and a flight attendant comes over the loudspeaker to announce our in-flight movie is Just Like Heaven. Sarcastic cries of "sweet!" and "nice!' go up around the plane. One of the Belladonna producers shakes his head; "I think they picked the wrong flight for that film."
5:00pm
Retrieving my bag from the carousel, I manage to slice my right ring finger on a suitcase buckle; by the time we hit the cab, my hand is coated in blood.
6:15pm
We pull into the driveway of our condo in Park City, and pause to let the cab driver pray towards Mecca. Then, dropping off our bags, Scott and I head out to meet Rob, Nate, and an array of non-Cyan entourage for drinks and dinner at Cafe Terigo. Stopping at the neighboring liquor store, we stock up before heading back to the condo, to drink the night away, put up a revised version of Cyan's site, lay out strategy for the next ten days, and post this blog entry.
It's going to be a long trip.
While most people realize - at least in the odd moments they give it thought - that the reality of filmmaking is far less glamorous than the ideal, they still tend to underestimate wildly the sheer, endless tedium that underlies much of the movie-making process.
This weekend, for example, nearly twelve hours each on Saturday and Sunday, I sat in my living room with Colin Spoelman, logging footage for Underground, the Kentucky-set, lost-in-a-cave thriller he recently wrote and directed.
Logging, essentially, is the process of transferring video from DV tapes to massive harddrive, of notating, scene by scene, what's on those tapes and which parts of which scenes work, and of otherwise setting things up to pass a film along to its editor.
We ended up in my living room largely because I was equipped with the two key tools for logging: a fast computer running Final Cut HD, and large quantities of Woodford Reserve Bourbon Whiskey.
By now, it may just be the Bourbon talking, but even after twenty-some hours of watching it roll past, the footage Colin got looks really, really good.
[While I'm sure everyone here is more than sick of hearing about I Love Your Work, here's one last plug, copied from a recently sent email, that details our small celebration for the New York opening this weekend.]
Though the 'official' premiere is in LA, we're celebrating the NYC release of I Love Your Work, a film I and Cyan Pictures produced, this very Friday.
For those who don't know, I Love Your Work was directed by Adam Goldberg, and stars Giovanni Ribisi, Franka Potente, Christina Ricci, Joshua Jackson, Marisa Coughlan, Jared Harris, Jason Lee, Vince Vaughn, Marisa Coughlan, Judy Greer and Elvis Costello.
The reviews from the LA opening are quite strong, with the LA Times calling it "a highly stylized dissertation on the foibles of fame and our inability to secure happiness in our present condition" and saying "I Love Your Work has its rewards for those up to the challenge of tackling its nonlinear structure and brooding nature." The LA Weekly says "the filmmaking is actually quite polished, and Ribisi is fascinating to watch — his fluttery weirdness has never seemed more grounded and resonant, turning Gray's self-destructive egoism into near tragedy."
My own, brutally honest, appraisal is that the first two thirds are excellent, while the last is less so, though at least, in the words of E!, "always interesting, even when it stumbles."
You can watch the trailer on Apple's site.
The grand plan for Friday is to converge on the 7:00pm screening at Village Cinemas East (181 2nd Ave at 12th). You can buy tickets in advance, as it may well sell out.
Then, post-screening (about 9:00, for those who can't make the film itself) we'll relocate a few blocks east to Keybar, 423 E. 13th between 1st and A, for celebratory drinks.
I'd love to see you there.
With ILYW premiering today in LA, the LA Times and LA Weekly both weigh in with strong reviews:
The Times calls it "a highly stylized dissertation on the foibles of fame and our inability to secure happiness in our present condition" and says "I Love Your Work has its rewards for those up to the challenge of tackling its nonlinear structure and brooding nature," while the Weekly says "the filmmaking is actually quite polished, and Ribisi is fascinating to watch — his fluttery weirdness has never seemed more grounded and resonant, turning Gray’s self-destructive egoism into near tragedy."
Fingers crossed.
Though I'm sure you're sick to death of hearing about it already, a few more points on I Love Your Work:
• While it's already been playing in theaters for a few weeks, the trailer for ILYW is now online.
• If you live in Los Angeles, or somewhere nearby, the film opens there this Friday. Attendance that first weekend is crucial to the future life of the film, so please, please, go check it out. And bring friends. Or enemies. Or homeless people you find loitering outside. Whatever.
• If you live in New York, the film opens here on December 2nd. It got pushed back both to secure better screens and to run more squarely in the middle of the 'winter push'. It's a great vote of confidence from THINK, and we're hoping to prove the choice right by showing up, en masse, that weekend ourselves. The night of 12/2, we'll also be holding some sort of release party, mostly so, like Gilbert and Sullivan, we can be drunk enough to enjoy the opening night ourselves.
• If you live anywhere else, add ILYW to your Netflix queue. It won't cost you anything, but it will help demonstrate interest in the film. Plus, no matter where you live, you'll get to actually watch the movie.
That's that.
Also, spookiest of Halloween wishes. This evening, like in years past, I'll be playing 1940's jazz with an all-lesbian (or, rather, all but me) big band at a benefit concert for The Theater for a New City. Life in New York is never dull.
Yesterday, shortly after blogging about ILYW's imminent release, I downloaded the podcast of KCRW's The Business, a great and highly popular weekly radio show about the film industry.
Without looking at the title, I fired up the episode, and went about my work.
Five minutes later, I froze. There was I Love Your Work's director, Adam Goldberg, talking about the film, about the protracted two-year mess of actually getting it released.
And while, at first, I was mainly concerned about the potential for public embarrassment at the ears of all of Hollywood, though Adam talked extended smack about the other two companies involved, we received only passing, positive mention.
As the segment ended, however, the surreality of it all started to sink in. I walked through the rest of the afternoon, reeling at the strangeness of NPR dropping a personally-tailored episode of This is Your Life onto my hard drive.

Though it's taken two years (and slogging through a slew of sordid misadventures), I Love Your Work is finally hitting theaters: Los Angeles on November 4th, New York on November 11th.
As the film's success in those two cities will determine how much further things expand, I will love forever any readers who take time out of their busy schedules to go check it out. More details on specific theaters, etc., as they emerge.
While we were shooting I Love Your Work in Los Angeles, the other producer, David, brought a film investor to set: Boro, a Yugoslavian garmento.
Boro was tall and polished, with slicked back hair, a natty suede blazer, and a thick Eastern European Bond-villain accent.
David was clearly greatly impressed by Boro - in equal parts intimidated and thrilled by the volatile, slightly dangerous air he exuded. He introduced me to Boro shortly after they both arrived, mid-way through the shoot day. And, after explaining, with extensive illustrative facial implication, the 'complicated' nature of Boro's business ventures, David prompted him to tell me about Silky, one of Boro's 'associates'.
"We call Silky," Boro explained, "when people don't pay their bills as fast as they should, and we need to... convince them otherwise."
David smiled, nodding.
"And when he shake your hand," Boro continued, grasping my right hand in his, "he break your thumb. Like this!" He jerked his hand suddenly, releasing mine to spare my thumb, staring into my eyes as he did so.
"What do you think of that!" said David, clearly enthralled by the idea of petty violence as a business tool.
"I think," I measuredly replied, eyes still locked on Boro's, "that if someone had my thumb broken, I'd have to have that person killed."
I smiled placidly.
Thoughtfully, Boro nodded.
"Yes," he said a few moments later. He smiled broadly, handed me his card. "Yes, exactly right."
After delays, delays and more delays, THINKFilm has set the domestic theatrical release of Cyan's I Love Your Work for this November. Break out your champagne, and prepare for for ongoing pimping of the film here as the release nears.
As I've mentioned, a few months back, I launched a sister company to Cyan Pictures, called Long Tail Releasing. Cyan is a production company - we make movies (and are, in fact, currently shooting our next, around Manhattan and Brooklyn). Long Tail, on the other hand, is a distribution company - trying to change the way smaller, quirkier films are released to global audiences.
Each year, there are over a thousand films that screen at top-tier festivals (like Sundance, Cannes, TriBeCa or Toronto), yet are never more broadly distributed. After the festivals, they simply fall off the face of the earth, never seen again aside from by the directors' grandmothers. We're trying to fix that, by releasing a large number of these films (eventually, as many as 150 a year) for very small theatrical runs, for DVD sales and rental, online and off, for digital download, and through a number of other usual and unusual channels.
I'm emailing today because we officially launch Long Tail's first release, This is Not a Film, a week from today. But we're hoping to build some early momentum by pre-releasing it, today, to family and friends.
While This is Not a Film is quirky, it's also quite good. It won three festivals, and scored an 'A' from Entertainment Weekly, which quipped: "Actually, this is a film, and a surprisingly good one."
You can learn more about This is Not a Film, read reviews, watch the trailer, and pick up a discounted copy, at helpmefindmygirlfriend.com.
In short, however, This is Not a Film is a first-person documentary by Michael Conner, who made the movie in an attempt to find and win back his ex-girlfriend Grace McKenna. As Michael puts it, the movie is sort of a 'modern day message in a bottle'; he's hoping that someone will see the film, know Grace, and put the two of them back in touch. So the film itself is Michael, with the help of his actress friend Nadia Dajani, recreating scenes from his relationship with Grace, to prove to us that it was a good relationship, that he's a good guy, and that he's worthy of our help in his quest. And, along the way, as much as we're learning about Michael, he's learning about himself.
So watch the film because it's smart, quirky and funny. Watch it because you want to help build a new model for getting great festival films to broader audiences. Or watch it because you don't want me to have to move into a refrigerator box in Central Park.
Whatever the reason, it's www.helpmefindmygirlfriend.com.
Cyan's next film, Premium, starts shooting this Sunday right here in NYC. If you'd like to be an extra at some point over the next month or so (and, particularly, if you have a car, and can put it in the movie with you), let me know.
For the past few days, I've been trying to draft out an entry on caffeine: on how I cut it out of my life completely in 2000, and on how it's slowly worked its way back in, to the point where I'm nearing the need for an espresso I.V. drip.
As I haven't managed to get that post anywhere near coherent, however, I'm using the topic instead as a segue into something else vaguely coffee-related: Cyan + Long Tail is looking for one more intern.
I kid about the coffee part, as we're searching not for a drink-fetcher or phone-answerer, but rather someone who can actually take on substantive projects, related to Long Tail's first releases, to two films Cyan is shooting this summer (one of which just launched into pre-production), to building up Long Tail's marketing and distribution infrastructure, and to shepherding through development the next few films on Cyan's shooting slate.
Though we're looking for someone with a burning love of good films, industry experience is less important to us than a history of pushing ahead on any kind of innovative, independent projects. If you or someone you know think you might be a good fit, and would be interested in getting some very hands-on experience in the world of film, track me down.
[The idea for this online intern plea blatantly ripped off from the vastly-wiser-than-I Ole Eichhorn.]
The thing I remember most vividly about the first months of running Cyan is watching movies, an endless stream of them. It was the first time I gave myself permission to do that - to enjoy films as something worthwhile in and of themselves, rather than as occasional and temporary escapes from real work.
I had always loved movies, had always watched as many as I could. But with Cyan just getting underway, I felt I hadn't seen nearly enough. There were countless classics I'd somehow missed, countless writers, actors and directors whose work I'd yet to see.
So, in the beginning, I watched a film a day. Every day. But, as the work of running Cyan took increasing spans of my waking time, I started to skip days. And then more days. Until, nearly three years later, juggling both Cyan and Long Tail, I realized that in one recent six week stretch I'd watched just three films, all at home on DVD.
So, shamed by that knowledge, I leapt back into movie watching. I returned to the nearby theaters, watching like it's my job. Because, in fact, it is.
. . .
What I rediscovered, what I'd somehow forgotten, is the thing that made me jump blindly into the film industry in the first place: I'm never happier than when leaving the theater after a good film. Excited, like something big is coming, yet oddly calm. Full to bursting and vaguely hollow, all at once.
I like to watch the people leaving with me, bubbling with excitement or soberly and silently contemplating. Each with one foot removed from the world of their own lives, planted firmly still inside the world of the film instead.
Looking across the crowd, it's clear that, for ninety minutes, we've been transported to somewhere else entirely. And now, slowly returning, full of new things, it will take us a while to come all the way back.
In several conversations over the last week, friends and business associates have remarked that I must be awfully glad to see I Love Your Work finally hitting theaters.
And, certainly, I am. Sure because of all the work that went into making it, or because of how much easier Cyan's life will be once we have a release under our belt.
But, mainly, because I'll no longer look like an idiot when I quote lines from the film.
By way of disclaimer, I should point out that I'm not normally a movie quoter. I don't walk around saying "here's looking at you, kid," or "I'll make him an offer he can't refuse," or even (perhaps my favorite movie line of all time, from Royal Tenebaums) "I guess we'll have to be secretly in love with each other and leave it at that."
My brain is overflowing with dialogue lines - the occupational hazard of watching movies all day long. But I don't let them out, because, frankly, everybody hates people who do that.
But with I Love Your Work, because I've read the script beginning to end more times than I can count, because I saw it brought to life on set and sliced and diced in the editing room, because I've watched the finished film endlessly through, the dialogue is so deeply entrenched in my subconscious that I can't help myself. I say something, thinking it's normal conversation, and then realize I've unwittingly recited verbatim a line from the film.
Which, of course, invariably leads to odd blank stares, considering that nobody I'm reciting to has actually seen the movie itself.
And, the thing is, whatever flaws the movie has (and it certainly has plenty), the writing is great. It's natural enough that several extended stretches of the dialogue have played out in my own life, even if I'm the only one who knows that's how it's all supposed to go.
It makes me giddy when that happens, and I inevitably start to point as much out, which, if you think the blank stares you get off of a single quoted line of an unreleased movie are bad, hoo boy.
So, yes, I'm thrilled to see I Love Your Work hitting theaters and coming out on DVD. And I hope you all go out and watch it. A little bit because I'm (literally) banking on its fiscal success. But more because I'll be glad if, when I say something in real life that unintentionally imitates filmic art, you'll all understand what the hell I'm talking about.
After what's seemed like years (though is actually not particularly long in the world of film distribution), I Love Your Work is finally going to be released later this spring. More details as they emerge.
Though I don't watch much TV, what little I do consists mainly of Law & Order and The Daily Show. So I was particularly bummed to have missed Christina Ricci last night plugging I Love Your Work to John Stewart.
Fortunately, as no fewer than twenty of my friends and internet acquaintances did see the show, and emailed in to say as much, I managed to wrangle up a download via BitTorrent, and got to watch Ms. Ricci proclaim, several times, that the film is 'really, really good.'
We think ILYW should finally be in theaters later this spring, but, given the overall mess the process has been so far, we honestly have pretty much no idea anymore. Join us in keeping our fingers collectively crossed.
Ed. Note: Due to insanity at work over the last few days, I'm committing the faux pas of all faux pas: cross-posting between my own two blogs. This appears also on Cyan's site, but as it's a plea for outside opinion, including opinion outside the film industry, I thought I'd re-post it here.
About two years back, I coined Newman's First Law of Filmblogging, which got written about a bit on a number of film-centric blogs. The law, essentially, states that a filmmaker or production company's ability to blog at a given point is inversely proportional to how interesting things are at that point. In other words, when progress is cranking ahead, there's almost never time to actually sit down and write about it.
That's been the case recently, with several Cyan and Long Tail projects all surging ahead at once. I'm blogging briefly, however, to ask for your help with one of them:
The DVD of LT's first film, This is Not a Film, is nearly ready to head off to the duplicator; before it does, however, I'd really love some outside opinion on the box design and the trailer. In short, I want to know whether you'd be likely to rent, buy, or head out to the theater to watch the film based on either of them. So, if you'd be willing to volunteer criticism, shoot me an email and I'll send both your way. The first ten to pitch in will score a free copy of the finalized DVD.
In a letter to his wife, a Civil War soldier described war as 90 percent boredom and 10 percent sheer terror.
Making movies seems to follow that same mix; a lot of 'hurry up and wait', interspersed with brief stretches of ulcer-inducing frenetic action.
I'm starting to realize, though, that I greatly prefer the sheer terror part. So, really, if starting a distribution company while juggling a slew of films at different stages all at once pushes the sheer terror part to, say, 40 percent, though I should probably consequently be spending my days lying curled in the fetal position in the corner, sobbing softly from the stress of it all, instead, perversely enough, I'm thrilled.
Spent most of the afternoon today listening on and playing audio tech to Michael Nickles and Nadia Dajani, the director and one of the leads, respectively, of Long Tail's first release, This is Not a Film, as they recorded a commentary track for the film. Which, while time consuming, was also a great warmup for the less fun work I'll be doing through the rest of the evening: harassing our cadre of potential investors about Cyan's next production.
And while I normally dread having to, yet again, pass around the hat, hearing Michael and Nadia talk about the ins and outs of their guerilla filmmaking reminded me that making movies, actually getting down and dirty with on-set production, is enough fun to make it almost worth that painful hat pass.
Dan Berwick, one of the most influential thinkers in healthcare, is fond of telling the story of Wag Dodge, the commander of a Montana firefighters parachute brigade:
In 1949, Dodge and his men land a jump too close to the edge of an unexpectedly fast-spreading forest fire. With the blaze bearing down, the crew makes a run for a hill nearby, hoping to clear its 76% grade, getting over the crest before the fire engulfs them.
Dodge, however, realizes they aren't going to make it. So, thinking quickly and way outside the box, he pulls matches out of his pocket and sets the tall grass ahead of him on fire. The small new blaze quickly spreads and dies out, and Dodge steps into the middle of the burned out clearing, lays down, and calls for his men to join him.
Obviously, the men think he's nuts, and keep running. All but two of them die in the fire.
Dodge, on the other hand, survives unharmed. He's unwittingly invented the escape fire, now an industry standard in wildfire fights.
Most people, when asked, are sure they'd have joined Dodge in that burnt clearing. But, with the heat of the flames on our backs, I suspect we would all have had an awfully hard time evaluating such an unusual new idea. Instead, we'd panic and run, unwilling and unable to think through something that just might save our lives.
Which, essentially, is what my movie industry colleagues are doing today. Studio execs are scrambling for the crest, terrified to death of the blaze of digital technologies and innovative thinking that's changing the film industry and threatening companies' core businesses.
But, as you readers doubtless know, it's far too late. We movie folks can't put out a fire so readily embraced by our customers. We can't even make it safely past some legislative crest. Instead, we have to use that same fire ourselves. Only by leveraging technology, by tearing down the assumptions about how the movie business works, about how movies make money, and starting from scratch, does a film company have any chance of making it through.
So, to that end, and as a fitting start at the beginning of 2005, I give you the official launch of Long Tail Releasing, Cyan Pictures' new distribution arm. Our first film, This is Not a Film, will be released later this month. And I give you the official re-launch of Cyan itself (with corresponding new site), as we ever more tightly hone in on what sort of films we're trying to make, and how we're trying to make them.
Stay tuned. This should be good.
When I was in middle school and high school, I hated, hated, being assigned group projects. Inevitably, someone (or multiple someones) would drop the ball, and I'd be left frantically trying to cover for them.
I'm having that same feeling this week, as, despite there being ostensibly two other producers on this Israel documentary, all of their work seems to be eventually ending up in my lap. And though that's somewhat detrimental to me sleep schedule, sanity, and week-focused-on-jazz ambitions, it's probably for the best. In the same way that I've always preferred individual sports to team ones, there's something oddly comforting about knowing that if it all goes to shit once we head out to shoot, there will be nobody to blame but myself.
Related addendum:
"There is no monument dedicated to the memory of a committee."
- Lester J. Pourciau
This coming Sunday, we're screening I Love Your Work at the Tribeca Grand for a New York filmmakers group. The Grand's screening room is only set up to use DVDs, a format to which we've yet to convert the film. We have copies on analog film, as a High Definition D-5 master, on VHS and on DigiBeta. Or, rather, had the film on DigiBeta; now, nobody seems to know exactly where the tape of the film in that format is. Which is problematic, as it's the only one from which we can easily burn a DVD. As a result, my colleagues, our film lab, and our sales rep are all running around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to track down the DigiBeta in time to cut the DVD for Sunday's showing. I'm trying to coordinate it all from Denver by cell, silently chanting my Cyan mantra: filmmaking is fun, filmaking is fun...
Update: DigiBeta has been found. Now I just need to find a way to get it DVD-ified overnight.
Running a fast-rising indie production company, I get to meet movie stars on a fairly regular basis. And, by and large, it doesn't faze me at all. After all, despite what Us and Entertainment Weekly might imply, even Oscar-winners are just people; granted, exceedingly talented people whose face you and millions of others have seen blown up to forty feet across and projected onto a wall. But people none the less.
Still, earlier today, I met a star who turned me instantly into a mouth-breathing, autograph-chasing, slack-jawed yokel. Today, I met none other than Wally Shawn, inimitable Sicilian of Princess Bride fame. Shaking his hand, I literally had to bite my tongue to keep from saying aloud: "inconceivable!"