Naked Filmmaking

Aha! I got your attention, didn't I? I'm seriously thinking about sending out a press release about how my preferred method to make films is in the nude. I could quote myself saying something like, "I like to direct in the buff to show solidarity with my actors, so that they feel that I'm putting myself out there 110%, just like they are." Then maybe get a quote from one of my male crew saying something like, "Whoa, yeah, it was weird at first. I mean, that scar on her abdomen, did she give birth to an elephant? And stretch marks - I never knew they could be that color. But after a while, you know, you stop looking because there's work to be done." And of course a quote from a female crew-member, "I think the female form is beautiful. I don't see what the big deal is. Deal with it." Now that would be a story.

Because it seems like making a good, solid film about a woman struggling with the real issue of how to be both an artist and a mother isn't enough. You need a story to go with it. Maybe the fact that I made this film while being a full-time mother to my now-10-year-old twins while my husband worked 12 hours/day isn't enough of a story. Perhaps if I'd been a single mother of 14, who suckled twins at my breasts during production, nay during takes would make better copy. Trust me, feeding my kids and my crew breakfast at the same time during the three days we shot in Queens was stressful enough. Finding someone to pick up my kids from school and watch them until my husband could come home and take them out to dinner, so that we could shoot until 7:00 p.m. in our apartment nearly gave me an ulcer. And when we wrapped my apartment, trying to clear out before 9:00 so the kids could get enough sleep to be up for school the next day - let's just say there was a lot of tiptoeing and whispering going on. But that's not an interesting story.

I have to think that a film about a woman struggling with life issues of motherhood and work is just as important as a film about a man dealing with his wife of 20 years being in a coma and discovering that she was having an affair (Oscar-nominated film, "The Descendants"), no? Women, I want to hear from you!

Juggling Time

It's been three and a half weeks since we wrapped principal photography for the first half of "That's What She Told Me," a short film I directed. I'm also the editor on the film. The plan was to create a trailer with the footage we've shot, show it, and raise the rest of the money to complete the film. But as I started looking at the footage, I realized that I needed to edit together all of the scenes that I have before I can cut together a trailer. So I began, thinking it would take me about a month. In three and a half weeks, I've spent a total of 20 hours editing. And I'm only halfway done with the rough cut. It will probably take me at least another 20 hours to finish cutting the film before I can start on the trailer. Why so little time?

In that time, I've also had three school holidays, attended one high holy day service and held one family dinner for Rosh Hashanah, had four therapy appointments (me), two occupational therapy appointments (my son), one appointment in the burn unit (my father-in-law), one sick day (all of us), moved my kids into two separate rooms and painted both rooms, attended five meetings at the kids' school on volunteer projects, bought two birthday presents (the kids' friends), three other birthday presents (the kids and husband), took the kids to three piano lessons, designed and printed birthday invitations, designed and ordered Christmas cards (my husband is Jewish and I'm Protestant), and paid the bills. And that's just on the personal side.

In my other film work, I've had two phone meetings for film consulting, attended one artist networking event, submitted two film grants, put together a proposal for a potential producer for "Weeki Wachee Girls", did some re-writing on "Weeki Wachee Girls", read 12 pages in my writing workshop with Mick Casale of NYU's Tisch School of the Arts, and sent off "Flower of a Girl" to the Baltimore Women's Film Festival (playing Friday, Oct. 24 at 10:00 p.m.).

And I ask myself for the thousandth time, can I really keep doing this? So far, the answer is still "yes." Or maybe I'll just go back to bed.

On directing your own children

I just have one thing to say, "DON'T DO IT!" Especially if you're the Mom (as opposed to the Dad.) A week and a half ago, I directed the first half of a wonderful short film called "That's What She Told Me." It was my first time directing a piece I hadn't written and the first time that I worked with women in all of the key positions. It was a fabulous experience, except for the morning I was shooting my daughter. Her role was to play the lead as a young girl, who is left on a park bench by her father while children play around her.

I talked to her about it a month ahead of time. On vacation we used Sun-In in her hair to get it light enough to take the red rinse. (She has light brown hair that needed to be red.) I was so excited that there was a role for my son as well. He got to play on the monkey bars. It all fell apart when my son found out that his best friend was coming and they would get to play together in the movie. My daughter broke down. "Why can't I play with someone in the movie.?" she said through her tears. So I explained. She was the star! It was an important role! The whole scene would be about her! Finally, I must have said something like "We can shoot some scenes where you get to play, too."

The day of the shoot started out promising. She played her part and did the same walking with Daddy scene about six times. The other kids played, mostly. We shot some more walking with Daddy scenes. Finally, she refused to do any more. I stopped shooting, took her inside and discovered she had a fever. I gave her Tylenol and talked to her in bed. (I'd been MIA for two days by that point.) We played Uno. Finally, I told her that I needed her to do one more thing and that was sit on a bench for two minutes. That was it. Otherwise, I wouldn't have a scene. She agreed, sort of. Luckily, the scene called for her to be unhappy. I have to cut out the parts where she's shooting me dagger looks.

The rest of the day went swimmingly. We were literally shooting underwater. We finished early. I got to put my kids to bed. All was right with the world.

Until today, where I finally put together a rough-cut of the park scene. I showed it to the kids. About halfway through, my daughter started crying. "You said I would get to PLAY in the MOVIE! Why didn't you let me play?" I started backpedaling. Stumbling, I probably made some other misguided half promises. And I swore to myself, "Never again." At least, not until next time.

Blogging and Flower of a Girl

Despite growing up with a refrigerator magnet stating "Better to remain silent and thought a fool, than to speak up and remove all doubt," I've decided to start blogging. If you think me a fool, please keep it to yourself. If you like what I'm saying, please speak up!

I'm an indpendent filmmaker, a screenwriter and playwright who also happens to be the mother of (almost) 7-year-old twins. Needless to say, making all of those things work together is challenging, to say the least.

I'm starting this blog initially to introduce my film, "Flower of a Girl," a 5-minute experimental piece that once elicited the comment "That was terrible!" from an elderly woman in the audience at the 2006 Staten Island Film Festival. During the Q&A, when I spoke about what the film was about and how the woman and the teenager were related, my husband says that same woman turned to her friend and said, "I knew it!" Judge for yourself. The film can be seen in its entirety on imdb.

It is also playing at the 2008 Baltimore Women's Film Festival at 10:00 pm on Saturday, October 25 as part of an Experimental Shorts Program. I plan on being there, although it is the weekend that my twins turn seven and I'm expected to throw a birthday party. At home. For 20 kids. Yet another challenge. Somehow, with help and more than a little grace, I'll manage.