I took a clip from the always almost finished short film we shot last fall, “Small Town”, and took the program for a test drive shifting the look, matching the shots and doing some extra post lighting while trying not to crowd some of Paul’s most beautiful footage to date and I fell in love. I’ve posted the clip below and while this is the direction we’re pushing towards, it isn’t exactly the final look. Just a test/sneak peek:)

-Marc

Oh what the hell, “…near the In-N-Out Burger.”  “Those are good burgers, Walter.”  “Shut the f&@k up, Donny.”  There, that’s better.

In the wee morning hours of a pleasant Sunday afternoon, not a hundred yards from the In-N-Out Burger on Gayley Ave., we finished dressing Matt and Alison’s apartment.  Typically, when hairy, overweight men carry camera equipment into a small room with only one woman present the natural assumption is the product of that day’s filming will end up posted on a website requiring a credit card to access.  Depending on the form of distribution we ascertain, that may still be the case, but anyone logging on for the afore-implied intention will be sorely disappointed (unless one’s particular kink is a well-acted, creatively shot drama and in that case, to each his/her own).

I had always expected this set, more than any, to spark memories of the story’s genesis.  It was but some four years ago that I myself cohabitated a cramped studio apartment in downtown Long Beach.  The oddness of standing in a room created to mirror that time in my life struck me for sure; but not in the way I supposed it would.  As I thought about the last four years I was more reminded of how much things change, how much people grow and how elated I am to be where I am now.  No painful memories.  No nostalgic reveries.  Just gratitude.

The thesis of Vivian’s rant is that Art, through lies, exposes the crass reality of nature and ultimately creates an aesthetic that Life aspires to imitate.  “Grass is hard and lumpy and damp, and full of dreadful black insects. Why, even Morris’s poorest workman could make you a more comfortable seat than the whole of Nature can.”  The true story of Tilting at Windmills is hard and lumpy and damp and full of dreadful black insects but I have the sincere impression that the cast and crew of Brotherhood Pictures is building a more comfortable seat.

- Josh

Bill Murray proclaimed this in a recent interview with GQ (just before admitting he agreed to voice Garfield because he mistook Joel Cohen for Joel Coen - I’m betting he had no confusion as to which Benjamin Franklin he was working with when he signed up for the sequel) and it occurred to me that my baby is sleeping unmolested in the confident arms of two such actors.

Just before filming I had met Joe Calarco and Val Curry (newlyweds so back off loverboy) only once.  Myself, Aaron and Marc exchanged story points with them at their criminally inexpensive apartment a few weeks before the start of principal photography.  They had an excellent grasp of both characters, a previous working relationship with Brotherhood Pictures and a flattering opinion of the script (they obviously have great taste – obviously).  My initial impressions where very high but there was no way to tell just how their interpretations of Matt and Alison would translate to film.

Due to scheduling difficulties with extras and Marc’s inspired decision to alter the set-up of the balcony scene, Val and Joe were more or less flying blind.  The situation they found themselves in was daunting – an improvisational meet-cute utilizing props never mentioned in the script.  No pressure, you know?  This scene only OPENS the movie, sets the tone and establishes the main characters’ connection.  No biggie.

Fortunately, these two thespian orators were more than up to the Herculean task.  I watched mouth agape as they extemporaneously discarded what was left of my scripted words and created a scene with greater depth, charm and dimension than my listless utterances deserved.  My crash-course in collaborative art was underway.

Tilting at Windmills is deeply autobiographical so handing over material this close to my heart wasn’t easy.

I’m damn glad I did.

As a side note, I attended Joe’s raw but thoroughly enjoyable one-man show LA Lights Fire at the Los Angeles Fringe Festival.  My girlfriend (the prettiest girl in town – sorry ladies) thought it was the best stage performance we’d seen in Los Angeles since Ed Harris in Wrecks.  I couldn’t disagree (not just because she has a strong right hook) so if you get a chance to see Joe in action I implore you not to squander the opportunity.

-Josh

I showed up on the set determined not to be a screenwriter cliché (anymore than I already am) and met my first test less than an hour in. “I need you to rewrite the balcony scene.” “Okay, why?” “I ditched the sketchbook; I want Alison to go through the pictures in her camera instead.” “But the sketchbook was the lead-in to Matt and Alison’s conversation, not to mention the introduction of an important thematic prop.” “Right, we’re going with the camera.” That’s it. End of discussion? You can’t change something so integral to a scene on a whim. Who is this hack?

I’m going to stop here and admit a horrible indulgence. Left to my own devices, I will justify an entire page to save one line and/or exchange that I love (if you’re familiar with the parking lot scene in Brotherhood Pictures’ little art-house masterpiece Hiding in the Open, you’ll know this conceit isn’t specific to writers). In the scripted balcony scene, Alison asks Matt for a pen. The exchange goes like this:

Matt – “Make sure I get that back, it’s my lucky pen.”
Alison – “What’s lucky about it?”
Matt – “My grandfather stormed the beaches of Normandy with it tucked behind his ear.”
Alison [skeptical] – “Really?”
Matt – “No. I bought a pack of ten last week; it’s the only one I have left.”

How was I going to get my line in without the sketchbook? You don’t need a pen for a camera. Am I the only one that appreciates this? GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Couple that catastrophic loss with the overworked accountant in my head subconsciously tallying every minute I agonized over those five lines and you’ll understand just how egregiously I had been slighted.

This is why writers are rightfully kicked off sets.

- Josh