Bohemian Cinema By Jonathan Pacheco

Stimulus/Eureka

Tags: Writing, Scripts, Blogging, Joe Swanberg

Back around late 2003, early 2004, I was excited. I was excited about making movies. You better believe I was amped. I spent all my time online at places like IndieClub.com, FilmHelp, DV Info, and XIXAX. I saw some short films that people were making—some good, some bad. Making shorts and living the DIY lifestyle sounded so cool. And I started reading blogs.

One in particular, I read a lot: David Lowery’s Drifting, though I think it was before it was named that. What I enjoyed the most was reading the archives; David had kept a production journal when making his first feature, Lullaby. I have not seen the film, but reading about a young filmmaker doin’ his thang was so energizing. I began wringing my hands in anticipation of my own endeavors. I read some of David’s old reviews, too, and I remember feeling so sad when I finally reached the end of his archive—I wanted more! It got me so pumped up about indie filmmaking that I went out, bought a camera, bought a mic and some other equipment, and made myself a couple of movies. Not many, nothing big, and nothing good, but it felt good.

Three or four years later, I don’t feel good. I haven’t made anything in a long time. Oh, sure, projects get brought up, but they are yet to be finished. I’m excited about film criticism, but what happened to that crazy-haired kid who always knew he’d be a filmmaker? He doesn’t frequent IndieClub, DV Info, or XIXAX anymore. He doesn’t watch his peer’s short films, either. And that old camera and microphone? Collecting dust.

Now, attending SXSW started to help. I saw great films that made me think, “I can do this. This is accessible,” and sometimes even, “I can do better than this.” It got me excited, but not enough. Fast forward to Friday night. I don’t quite remember what I was doing, but somehow I ended up at Joe Swanberg’s website for Hannah Takes the Stairs, and I started reading the production journal. And then I went to the site for Kissing on the Mouth, and I read that production journal, too. And I went to the website for LOL, and I started reading that one as well.

And then something went off.

Somehow, I was back in 2003. After reading the production journals, I realized that this could be me. I could be premiering movies at SXSW. I could be making a new feature film every year. I have access to amazing actors and actresses who would do ridiculous things for me. This is accessible. This is possible. And most of all, I’m excited about it. Why am I not doing it?

So I started writing. I revisited old projects and made new ones from them. And then another idea hit. And then I got the idea to rewrite a script I worked on in the tenth grade. All of a sudden I have to stop myself because I’m starting to forget my ideas, there’re so many of them.

I’m writing, and I’m thinking about Swanberg’s movies, and the whole Mumblecore movement. And I start trying to think in those terms—the themes, the style, the humor—until it starts influencing my creativity. Then I remember something David Lynch said in an interview when asked about his cinematic influences:

I think you wouldn’t use the word influence, I’d say ‘inspiration.’ Inspiration. You don’t want to copy somebody’s style; that’s their style, that’s their voice. But that voice can be so powerful and so beautiful that it inspires you to make sure you stick to your voice and be true to those ideas.

Joe Swanberg’s style is not my style. Andrew Bujalksi’s style is not my style. PT Anderson’s style, no matter how hard I try, is not my style. What my style is, I do not know, but I do know that it is mine.

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Back in January I was at a movie theater. As my gal and I were getting popcorn, I saw this kid who couldn’t have been older than 16 handing the theater manager an application. I heard the manager mention that they weren’t hiring at the time, but they’ll keep it on the file. I don’t know if the kid was taking it badly, but he just kinda had this look on his face. He was real quiet, with his ballcap on his head, and I can’t get the image out of my mind. As stupid and insane as it sounds, I want to make a rocking website with lots of reviews and content for this kid. I want him to be able to go home after not getting a job, and be okay because there’s a new review up and he looks forward to my reviews. Insane? Absolutely.

I remember one of my first nights working at a retirement community, it was a night shift, and I didn’t know how I would stay up all night doing nothing. Then I rediscovered the archives for David Lowery’s blog. There were so many entries, and I sat there for 6 hours reading all of them, and they got me through the night. I want to keep production blogs about making these movies that I’ve been writing. Maybe one day some my archives and reviews are gonna help that kid at the theater get through something tough. Insane? Absolutely.

I know you think I’m crazy, but that kid’s face is burned into my brain, and everytime I think of him, I want to help him—to help somebody—and for some reason, I get this feeling in my gut that tells me to keep writing.

I guess the whole point of this is to thank all those who keep blogs, who write reviews, and especially those who chronicle the ups and downs and in-betweens of making an uber-indie film. It’s not in vain, I assure you.