Facing Facts

I was angry at her. I was so angry at her.

I was tired. We were tired. I left a note saying we were going for pizza. Call me. Yes, I get she felt excluded. Yes, I was part of making her feel excluded. I didn't want her there. I wanted her studying on movie-making, learning the business side, figuring out how to enter film festivals, doing producer-type stuff.

I didn't want our days spent discussing shots, her swishy-snow pants swishing, the inevitable cutting remarks that I felt would be directed her way by X. I could visualize his scorn spreading to the others, making her the omega wolf, the one picked on, despite it was her drive that brought all of us together.

I felt I was protecting her.

I was wrong to do that.

I wanted to be entirely in control, to not have to argue with her about what to do, defend shots, scenes, lines. To avoid another discussion where she tells me we need to have a dream sequence with Y because she has two friends willing to go topless in a car wash and boobs sell movies.

I was so angry. I was angry at Sound Guy coming in and pointing out all the holes in the ship - holes I knew about and was the reason I called him.

I was angry this dream, making a movie, wasn't fun. I was angry my friend, the guy I trusted to shoot the movie, fucked off on me. I was angry I felt pushed into doing this, that there was no way to go but forward, ever since she said we had an investor.

I felt so alone, nobody to turn to to complain we weren't taking log notes. In the back of my mind, I knew every day meant another tape I would have to go through later, take by take, to figure out which was best.

I wasn't staring down the camera. I was angry that every day was such a complete tiring mess where I wondered what exactly I was shooting here. I was angry she said our relationship was over once the movie ended. I was doing this for us, I told myself.

And if there was no 'us', what was the point of anything? Being dumped on any day is never the best. It was only a slight drop below being stranded at the alter.

I was angry when she told me we were through. I said fine but we could we finish the movie first. We finished, hooked up for one more night and then I was angry she expected me to continue to fly back and forth to edit the movie, knowing the relationship ended.

I was angry I didn't get a choice in the editor - not even a fucking demo reel from the guy. We already got burned for $800 by the 'FX guy' for a shit totem grade school kids could have done in 20 minutes and a fake head so realistic I had to shoot it mostly from the back. Then there was my original DP, then there was the new DP who left town with one master tape still in his possession.

And now she was saying I wouldn't get a choice in who was editing this fucking mess? Were they aware we had no log sheets? Was he going to go through 18 hours of tapes for free?

So she kicked me off my movie. I was furious. She even got the investors to all sign something saying I was fired. I still have it. Along with a ream of angry letters sent over the next few months.

I was angry that I loved her, agreed to do this movie because of her, that she made me decide between the movie or her in the middle of filming.


I hated her. I hated her so much I moved across Canada. I hated her so much I sent her the masters after making my own copies and told her to go ahead. I hated her so much I had to ask her cancer-fighting sister if she was seeing someone else as she was recuperating in a hospital bed. I hated her so much I spent $1500 on a camera just so I could edit it myself. I hated her so much, I learned to edit. I hated her so much I would call her business phone from 3000 miles away in the middle of the night just so I could listen to the sound of her voice on her messaging machine. I hated her so much I never left a message.

I hated her so much I kept all her letters, a dying art, the angry letter - all capital letters, hand-written. I still have them, that's how much I hated her. I have pictures of her in my memory chest, from happier days of course, when I loved her and thought she loved me back. She was as old then as my wife is turning now.

(... that made me pause).

I hated her so much I yelled Happy Birthday to her when I saw her on the street five years later. I hated her so much I tried to say Merry Christmas to her when I saw her selling something in a department store. I hated her so much I left chocolates on her car door that night. She knew they were from me. I hated her when I saw her car beside mine, her staring ahead - either unaware I was right beside her or painfully aware.

I hated her for killing my dream, for no longer being part of my life. I hated her for making me feel like I could do anything and then telling me I couldn't. I hated her for the amount of times she'd blow me, far more times than actual sex. I hated her for pretending to believe in me. I hated her for all her arguments about her 'editor'.

I wanted nothing more than to win her back. I thought if only I edited this whole mess into something, entered it into a few film festivals on our behalf, then maybe she'd see I was doing it all for us. I wanted her to believe in me again. I needed her belief in me.

And when it was gone, so was I.

Life happened. I got cancer. She didn't acknowledge that. I moved back home. Not even a peep. I left, came back, got married, got divorced. Met someone else, and we are still together, two kids now. Happy life, happy wife.

The last time I saw her, and I've googled-creeped her name many times over the years to see where she was to no avail, she was entering a furniture store. I was inside, holding my months old baby daughter in my arms. I turned quickly, kept my back to the door as she entered. When she passed, I exited.

And that was the end of her. Physically.

Yet, she's still inside me. She found people willing to invest $15000 in our vision. It was an amazing, awful, one of a kind experience which will never happen again. For a few months, I was a filmmaker.
For a few years, I tried to recreate that lie, believing in an impossible goal, 3500 miles away from her.

Do I still hate her?

She did her damage.

Do I still hate her?

Did I ever hate her?

Or did I always hate the choice I made?

Artistic Therapy Part 3

Previous Artistic Therapy here.... 

The Credits:

CREW
Me - struggling creative type, wanting to write and direct. 
Winnie - Producer and ex-gf
Mel - my ex DoP
Lester - The New DoP
Ned the Assistant Director
Boris the Assistant Camera Guy
Tony - the Sound Guy

CAST
Herb, the American Jock
Ash, the Quiet One
Tim, the Joker
Demi, the Native Girl
Rachel, the Trophy Girlfriend
Amy, the Angry Woman


Pestilence Part 3.

So, we're now in production. We have a 3 man crew, not including me. I can't recall much of that first week - it's a blur of waking early, driving 45 minutes to the set, lighting the stove in our crew/cast cabin.

But this isn't really a memoir, this is my memories of some of the struggles I went through, most of it after filming so I'm going to skim through most of this.

I recall near the end of the week thinking we were in a deep hole. The cast was great, I was barely holding on to an image of things were going swell. My DoP and I were the only ones who had been on actual film crews before. One of the cast had experience as an extra and wanted to make acting a career.

I called up an old friend from film school who wasn't working at the time and willing to fly up and help out. 'Tony' stayed at my mom's place with me. After his first day he pointed out a shitload of problems I was facing, none of them new to me. It was the reason why I called him. I was taking on too much of the AD role, not through any fault of Ned, just more because I had experience and wasn't able to properly delegate things to him.

So I patiently listened as he told me everything wrong. It was tough to sit through and not lose my shit. I knew all the problems. I needed someone to hold the boom and be an all around grip. Ironically, by the third day Tony had severe bowel problems and came down with the flu, causing him to hole up at my Mom's for a day or two.

Days later, Tony and Les the DoP ge in a huge shouting match one day, far from civilization. I don't know what it was about but it was just another small thing to try and mend. They managed to stay civil to each other for the rest of the script but you bet your shit there was tension building between 'them' and 'us'. The us being me, Winnie and Tony, who was guilty by association. I have no doubt there was a lot of shit talk after we'd call it quits for the day back at Herb's basement suite. Why? Because it's human nature to bond over things we are mad about and here I am, trying to make them famous through an indie film during a typical Canadian winter.

Artistic Therapy Pestilence, Part 2

They made a movie about a killer snowman so...

Recapping the failed launching of my cinematic career.

Here's what happened last week;

-I talked about pre-production, of losing Mel and getting 'Lester'.
- we held auditions and casted.

Here are my players so far, using pseudonyms to protect all concerned, although many I have lost track of.

Winnie - Producer and gf
Mel - my ex DoP
Lester - The New DoP
Ned the Assistant Director
Boris the Assistant Camera Guy

The cast with names changed even from the script

Herb, the American Manly Man
Ash, the Budding Hero
Tim, the Comic Relief Guy
Demi, the Native Girl
Rachel, the Trophy Girlfriend
Toni, the Strong and Angry Woman


Let's move on to Production.

It's winter, early March if I recall. I solved that one problem of the DoP, which I thought was due to 'schedule conflicts' but turned out to be drugs. I've booked a month off to leave work and go shoot this horror flick in a winter setting.

Usually, the weather during this time is around 0 to -10. Nothing too bad, snow is melting. I come back to town, storyboards in hand. I've arranged cheap flights for those that needed them. Herb has offered his place as a crash pad for those out-of-towners.

I am pretty excited to meet my cast and crew altogether for the first time. Winnie and I run out to the film set, talk about glorious things and feel somewhat nervous but good. We're about to shoot a movie!

Foreshadowing...