Crafting a brilliant script. That’s all it takes to get a project noticed and “green lit”. This was my single-minded approach when I got the bright idea to start skipping down the indie filmmaking road. It was all so clear; admittedly up hill but I saw no potholes or wreckage to avoid. Nope. Curious sights and comfortable, clean rest areas amply stocked with fresh toilet paper lined my highway. The horizon seemed practically at arms length. My first detour: I had as much interest in writing a screenplay as Hunter S. Thompson probably did with the idea of writing sober.
Realistically, my chances of being offered a script to direct were slim to none – emphasis on none. Especially one that might satisfy my unrealistic specific creative goals as the filmmaker that I wasn’t yet. But with this elegant, single tier plan, I could suck it up and author my own brilliant script. I chased it fiercely as if it were a sparkling fishing lure.
Looking back, my abundant naivety and pure lack of intellectual nuance was apparent to everyone but me. But I was locked in. What I didn’t bother asking myself was perhaps the all-important question, what was I writing and why was I about to write it?
Screw that. First things first, learning to write for the screen…why waste my time analyzing my motives? I had a few derivative ideas plus there was real shit to do. I had to get focused. Get on course. Find my voice. Knock it out. Be brilliant! Before I knew it I had tripped head first into a rabbit hole and there was no bottom in sight.
In short order the “crafting” of my “brilliant script” became a drawn-out pilgrimage to conventional mediocrity: writing classes, seminars, retreats, and domestic arguments. Months and money invested amounted to nothing. No wonder Mr. Thompson adopted psychotropic drugs and the bottle as child.
I was a rag doll ricocheting off the walls as I fell deeper and deeper. Finally, I hit. Slamming on to the spikes dipped in feces, like punji sticks, that laden the bottom. I survived but the view was pitch black.
It wasn’t until this low point that the right mixture of fear, desperation, pure frustration and self-loathing magically afforded me a moment of clarity. I finally asked myself, why am I writing this? Of course there were a small handful of expletives peppered in to show myself that I meant it. I had no answer.
Okay, again, why am I writing this? Seemed like a simple enough question, or so I thought before it became a conniving beast that sparked an avalanche of other questions.
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Do I want to make money?
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Do I want to make art?
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Is my idea of realistic size and scope for a first timer?
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What is my taste?
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What is my genre?
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If I’m an artist, what do I need to learn about the business side?
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Am I capable?
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Am I a leader or follower?
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Do I want a career or is this a one off?
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Am I being honest with myself?
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Will this project contribute to the landscape of cinema? How?
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Do I plan to say anything, if so what is it?
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Am I willing to do the work necessary to be heard?
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Will anyone want to hear it?
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What is special and different about my story?
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How much risk am I willing to take?
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Will the characters be worth watching?
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Do I love this?
The list went on but when I finally clawed my way back to level ground I had my answer and a plan.
My plan is Recess. An intimate, character driven piece about a boy named Osmond who, on his eighteenth birthday, ages out of the child welfare system into adulthood; on the same day, his incarcerated mother, housed in a special prison that allows female inmates to take part in raising a child born on the inside, commits suicide and leaves Osmond full custody of a sister he never knew existed, Tina. Now ten years old, Tina is placed into Osmond’s already shaky life. As an unfamiliar and awkward family unit, the two struggle to integrate with one another and the bleak world they inhabit. Ultimately we watch Osmond and Tina’s beautiful decline as products of a broken system.
My answer is this: I love cinema and I willingly decided to step on board for the long haul. There’s really no other way. I am determined to take risks because I believe art does not exist without risk and the movies I love the most are risky. Some highlights off the top of my head, Rashomon, Clockwork Orange, L.I.E., Blowup, Taxi Driver, Rear Window, High Plains Drifter, 21 Grams, Apocalypse Now…and it goes on and on. These films remind me that art is not only relevant and appreciated in film but it can also serve good business. An artistic film raises eyebrows and challenges audiences by engaging them in new perspectives and entertaining them in fresh ways, drawing others into seats. So screw it! I’ve decided to make my run at a contribution, damn the consequences or rewards.
The task of writing Recess was now laid out before me. It was just as terrifying as sitting on the mall Santa’s lap for the first time when I was three. But I had found what I believe to be genuine substance. I gave a shit about my reasons. I wanted to put in the work necessary to see Recess’ full potential. And I didn’t pee my pants.
Next up: Some side effects of not skimping on character development when developing a character driven piece.
Craig Abell-Champion: An unusual kid who grew up on a sheep farm in Oregon. When I reached legal adulthood I was gone and never looked back. I earned a BFA in photography and spent several years shooting pictures around the world. A cinema lover, I moved to Los Angeles in 1998. Directing TV commercials was my film school. Today, I have left the realm of thirty seconds for a longer narrative road. A first time writer/director, my project Recess is in the packaging phase seeking financing.
