The 21st Century Film Student

INSPIRING FUTURE FILMMAKERS

THE TEACHER IS THE EDUCATION

The teacher is responsible for the content of the course and delivering it in an engaging manner. They are the student’s partner in learning. Film school can be a vital and memorable experience when the instructor has a depth of knowledge, a command of the material, and the skills to connect with a class of creative individuals: these are fundamental requirements.

The teacher sets the standard of professionalism for their discipline, their course and their school. Fulfilling the industry expectations of a creative position in film production requires a broad knowledge of filmmaking skills and tools, along with other important qualities: rapport, empathy, confidence, stamina, leadership, and a sense of humour (to name a few.) The student benefits when they see these qualities demonstrated by the teacher and can apply them to their own creative process.

The teacher shapes the tone, pace and dialogue of the learning environment. They create the classroom experience for the student. In The Courage to Teach, Parker Palmer writes, ‘To educate is to guide students on an inner journey toward more truthful ways of seeing and being in the world.’ This is powerfully relevant for the 21^st century film student, and a roadmap to great treasures for filmmakers and storytellers.

Like an actor, the teacher needs to be ‘in the moment.’ Workshops and screenings are a forum for the teacher to provide perspective and feedback to the student’s work — and this helps the student learn to filter criticism and develop their own critical point of view. A robust critique from a respected source, and the opportunity to then take it, test it, and potentially improve the work is what filmmaking, and film education, is all about: listening, communicating, and connecting ideas.

FILM IS ART

Film is a complex medium and needs to be broken down into bits and pieces. A good film seduces the audience. There can be many layers to its construction. So many, in fact, that a viewer is not even aware of how the tools of cinema are being used: lighting and lenses, music and silence, framing and editing. When everything comes together in an amazing scene, the filmmaker has achieved what the student must constantly search for: how to make the audience feel something.

The teacher provides evaluation. In that sense, they are the audience — but an audience of one requires constant vigilance. Grading creative work is an exercise in subjectivity, and it needs to be self-governed at the highest level. It also needs to be fair, consistent and transparent. When grading is thorough, straightforward and well-defined, it has greater substance and value to the student.

#MENTOR

The teacher must be a mentor. A good mentor holds up a mirror for the student, and helps them to trust their instincts and value their imagination. This is where powerful stories begin. It’s not about what’s easy or hard, or right or wrong — it’s about what is possible. To succeed as a filmmaker, you need to go deep: the deeper the better. This is fertile ground.

Mentoring differs from the classroom or workshop setting. The mentor/mentee relationship must be built on a foundation of mutual trust and respect. When the student values the mentor, the relationship thrives. A mentor listens, suggests, and motivates: they generate energy.

They also know that procrastination and daydreaming are part of the creative process. Yes, progress is important — but inspiration and genius can strike in a flash at the most unexpected times and suddenly turn into a marathon of all-nighters.

JUST. KEEP. GOING.

Creativity is a personal journey, and conformity has never been a badge for the pioneers of artistic expression. Audiences need new ideas, new stories and new ways of being told a story. They want unique characters in original situations. They want to see relatable emotions rendered with superior artistry: this is what drives the entertainment industry.

When the film student taps the wisdom of a teacher who has taken the risks and chances that they plan on taking, it creates the synergy to push the envelope, think outside the box, and break new ground. Mentoring in this territory requires an innate understanding of the potential of the imaginative world.

NO FEAR

Student filmmaking should be the front line for new voices. The innovators of tomorrow want to say, “Hey, look what I made!” today, and have it shine with the promise of what they can and will do in the future.

There’s not always a right way to do it or a correct answer in the creative fields; it is the searching and the willingness to explore and experiment that matters.

 

 

 

 

 

Coward, Bully, and Clown: Crafting the All-Canadian Male Film Protagonist

When I set out to write and direct my first feature film, I knew I had to do something decidedly different or else it wouldn’t get done. Nor would it be remembered. I had written a couple of scripts about American characters in big budget scenarios, but that was a pipe dream. I couldn’t compete with my American neighbour. I had to get real; I had to embrace my roots; I had to get back to Canadiana.

The research began. In a collection of articles and excerpts from Take One I found a 1973 essay by Robert Fothergill which proved to be pivotal in crafting my story and leading me toward my goal. Coward, Bully or Clown: the Dream-life of a Younger Brother was a checklist about the radical inadequacy of the male protagonist in English Canadian film.

Jackpot! Eureka! I felt like I’d found the winning ticket for the lottery of losers.

Subvert and Exaggerate

I immediately set out to subvert and exaggerate this historical collective debility in the imagination of Canadian filmmakers – English ones, to be precise. (The Quebec filmmakers had their own crosses to bear.)

“Where are the monstrous depictions of smothering Moms?” Fothergill asked. (This kept me writing for weeks.) Castrating bitches? (Hmmm, definitely include one of those…) Faithless tramps? (I was off and running.)  I lined up my bevy of fascinating females to counter the cowards, bullies and clowns choking beneath the phallic smokestacks of my factory town setting.

Years later, I booked the sound mixing theatre at Film House in Toronto – circa 1991 – to submit my film, The Grocer’s Wife, for the Toronto Festival of Festivals (now known as TIFF). It was finished but unassembled. I had plans to blow it up from 16mm to 35mm and I had not yet raised the money to get it to that stage. The judges would be watching it in 16mm, in ten minute segments – which is the maximum length for a reel of 35mm film. Between every reel there would be an intermission to reload the projector. I wasn’t sure how this was all going to play out. It was as much of a calculated risk as making the movie.

“Fascinating and Theoretically Unrepeatable” – Cameron Bailey

The judges arrived: Piers Handling, Cameron Bailey, and John Sharkey. After introductions and pleasantries, they took their seats, the lights went down and the experiment was under way. Plumes of smoke filled the screen; the giant smelter roared like a beast; and strange characters were upon us. (I can guarantee that they had never seen anything like this before.)

When the lights came up for the first reel change, they looked over at me quizzically. “Where is this place?” they asked. “It’s Trail, in British Columbia,” I answered. “The self-proclaimed ‘Home of Champions’.” They chuckled, “Really?” The lights went down and the next reel flickered to life.

Next break, a few more questions. “Who is this actor? Is he a Canadian?” “That’s Simon Webb. I believe he’s from England, but he lives in Vancouver.” “And where do you live?” they asked. “I live in Montreal. I’m doing my master of fine arts at Concordia.” They exchange hushed comments. The lights dim. (I think it’s going pretty well so far.)

Next break, a bit more confusion. “So, is this a Quebec film?” “Well, I shot it in B.C., and I’ve been editing it in Montreal.” I reply. “But I’ve probably spent the most money in Toronto. Sound mixing and opticals. It’s been expensive.” They nod knowingly and seem content to settle in and see where this smoky dream will take them next.

During the last reel change, they huddle, then ask, “Could we call this an Ontario film then?” I get my first sense of the national film politics at play. I’m cautious, but honest. “I don’t think that would be wholly accurate. I’d call it an all-Canadian film.” They nod in unison.

“An Odd, Almost Dangerous Film”

As I headed home later, I felt that the story and characters had resonated with them, despite the interruptions. I believed they’d fallen under its trance-like spell. After all, they had screened thousands of English Canadian films over the years. Perhaps they didn’t consciously realize that such a consistent diet of Canadian films would leave them with a pre-condition to accept it like a recurring dream.

Weeks later, they informed me that the film would have its  world-premiere at their upcoming fest. The experiment was a success. John Sharkey wrote in the festival guide: It’s been a long time since such an odd, almost dangerous film arrived on the Festival’s doorstep. Cameron Bailey wrote: The Grocer’s Wife is what science might call a singularity – odd, fascinating and theoretically unrepeatable.

It’s funny how things work out. I had wanted to shape a cinematic dream into a distinctively Canadian reflection of life by embracing Fothergill’s thesis. It’s a dream I’ve never woken up from. It’s not for everyone, but if you’re curious, you can see it – with no interruptions – on April 3rd at 7PM at the Pacific Cinematheque in Vancouver. Get advance tix here:

Shameless self-promotion link