Festive!

Getting a film into the film festival circuit is a matter of numbers and timing and luck and elements as arbitrary as who’s doing the gatekeeping on a given day for a given festival or how exacting a festival’s definition of a press kit is.

Hatboxes is a short film, clocking in at just over 18 minutes.  It gets a good deal of story told in just a few minutes, and it features several layers but purposefully does not try to spoonfeed its audience.

Several obvious target types of film festivals could suit Hatboxes—Jewish, lesbian/gay, women’s, short films—but general festivals usually include a “Shorts” category, as well.  Most festivals now route their application processes through the centralized Withoutabox, named for the ability of filmmakers to submit their films mostly via online upload rather than having to ship a disc or a tape in a box to festival organizers...although some festivals still require submission of a screener disc.

A film may seem like a good fit for a festival’s program, but factors like how it would balance with other works or whether it would make for an unwieldy segment may affect the outcome of an application.  Or a film may be too controversial for a given festival’s audience.  Or it may be one of thousands of entries for a field of just a few dozen slots, and other films edge it out.

Festival application fees range from $15 to upwards of $80 per short film submission. Once the filmmaker has selected festivals to submit a film to, the task is to keep up with submission deadlines, which roll throughout the calendar year.   Selecting festivals can go beyond choosing by types of festivals that suit the film to factors like where the filmmaker might have a couch to crash on or what cities the filmmaker has always wanted to visit.  Also, an arcane hierarchy of festivals can sway choices, too.

We have been submitting Hatboxes for consideration at festivals around the US and elsewhere and are confident that it will be met with enthusiasm.

Hatboxes at Limmud

In February 2013, we had the privilege of presenting a sneak preview of Hatboxes to attendees at Limmud Chicago, a conference of Jewish learning.  After screening the film, participants joined us in discussion of the film and its themes.

Several attendees had actually advised in the development of Hatboxes, and we found it gratifying to hear that the story they had first encountered aligned well with what they saw onscreen.

One participant told us that she found Hatboxes dangerous, relatable, and discomfiting because it reminded her of some of her own experiences in life.   She wondered if seeing it might free some to consider other ways of being, of living their lives.

Some saw Hatboxes as centering on Miriam’s personal arc, while others saw Nadine and Miriam moving towards each other across the spectrum of Jewish observance, womanhood, and relationships.  Some liked the ending, and some wanted a different one.

But the question that seemed to captivate our Limmud audience almost as much as “What happens next?” was “What’s in the hatbox at the end?”

What would be in your box of dearest treasures?

Is It Risk that Makes Art?

Do movie-goers really only want to see the same flicks again and again, within narrow parameters? 

Is the future just going to be one long monotonous formulaic digital zombie superhero fugue state?

The snob appeal of resisting data analysis of a screenplay's potential  is nearly irresistible:  the only people wringing their hands at this may be the writers right now, but might we be underestimating viewers at our peril?

But read all the way to the end of the article.  The analyst says he contextualizes his recommendations by—how about that!—talking to the writer.  He shares his views early in the process, when the writer might still be able to exert creative control.

Only a fool would refuse useful feedback that helps create a better screenplay, and "better" doesn't have to mean "less risky"...a hat-tip to everyone who helped make the Hatboxes screenplay better!

Israeli Judge Rules for Pluralism at the Western Wall

For the love of Gd—no, really, for the love of Gd.

Women have struggled for a long time to be able to pray—sing, wear prayer shawls—at Jerusalem's Western Wall, the treasured remnant of the Temple the Romans destroyed 1,943 years ago. We have been harassed, arrested, and subject to rules propagated by those who appear to believe there is one and only one way to live a Jewish life.

A judge in Israel has affirmed a lower court ruling that there was no justification for the arrest of several members of the advocacy group Women of the Wall and that a police request for a restraining order against the Women lacked merit.

"Significantly, the judge ruled that in the Law of Holy Places, which compels Western Wall visitors to pray and hold religious celebrations according to the 'local custom,' this phrase doesn’t necessarily mean Orthodox custom," according to a report in the Forward.

The pervasive disdain for women at the orthodox end of the spectrum of many faiths deserves scrutiny.  Jimmy Carter recently left the Southern Baptist Convention explicitly over its positions on women. Roman Catholic doctrine continues to ban women from the priesthood, though ordination remains a goal for some Catholic women.  While the Qu'ran asserts equality between the sexes (with distinctions), customs persist that relegate Muslim women to lower status in many places. And Orthodox Jewish women often experience a range of restrictions, including not being allowed to touch the Torah, "because...you know..." as Rabbi Benay Lappe puts it with sardonic wit (i.e., we might be menstruating, among other reasons), though the development of "Morethodoxy" and the growth of leadership opportunities for Orthodox women give heart.

How does it persist that the closer people cleave to the character-by-character literalism of a revered text, the likelier it is that women will bear the burden of that abnegation of imagination?

"Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra"

I know just enough about music to be either dangerous or incoherent. Read music? check; notate it? check—I spent part of the night before we started shooting Hatboxes transcribing the beginning of Psalm 126 as it's sung in Hebrew....   

Birkat Ha-Mazon (Ps. 126)



But theory? vocabulary, even?  Not so much.

We met with a composer in early August, and he suggested creating tension through instrumentation (formal harp versus informal guitar) and lit up at my affection for the androgynous viola.

That was the easy part.

Being a lifelong writer and working in publishing, I can talk about writing in my sleep, and probably do. Thinking in pictures, I have no problem strongly expressing ideas about visuals.  But music? Sure, I'm passionate about it, but finding the idiom for expressing nuances, even simple "this rather than that, because..." beyond mere taste has me thinking in dimensions uncharted. It calls to mind the Star Trek: TNG episode where Captain Picard has to figure out how to communicate with an alien whose entire language is a recursive series of metaphors.

More Paris 1936, less St. Louis 1913.  Less minuet, more tango.

The music that originally caught my attention as expressive of some of the things going on in Hatboxes was "Pas du chat noir" by the Tunisian-French musician Anouar Brahem.  A moody, introspective piece featuring piano and oud (and, big surprise, accordion), its emotional tone eventually proved too dark and pensive (and let's not even talk about the cost of permissions).  The tune behind the Hatboxes pre-production trailer is lighter, but also lacks emotional range.  So now I've learned to say, "That stretch runs too sweet...the overtones at 1:15 are arresting, as are the quintuplets at :05," in addition to speaking Tamarian.

Susana Darwin

editing Hatboxes

The Hatboxes shoot wrapped late the night of Wednesday, 26 June.  Our editor, Justine Gendron, submitted a rough assembly not quite two weeks later.  A rough assembly puts the best footage in the order the script dictates.  That version came in at a little over 21 minutes.  You could see everything, but it did drag.

Justine and I have met four times since, refining the film as we go.  As of today, Hatboxes is coming in at just over 17 minutes, right on target at about a minute per page of script. 

Editing detail, Hatboxes, scene 4.

This is no time to get sentimental about the words on the paper, or even some thrilling little fragment; if something doesn't serve the story, it has to go.  Whole scenes have made their way to the cutting room floor (now a dated metaphor, since this is all happening digitally...what used to be "slice" is now "click").  We don't want to rush the story, but we also don't want to drag it down or burden it because someone (usually me) can't let go of something.  An unnecessary turn of someone's head, a line that is, in the end, just "yadda-yadda," one blink too many:  gone.

What's astonishing is how much the actors brighten towards incandescence as we tighten the film.  Its emotional heft seems to be deepening, too.  Like everyone else, I'm anxious to see it when it's done.

Susana Darwin

after the Hatboxes shoot

Not surprisingly, there wasn't much time during the Hatboxes shoot to draft blog posts, but we did keep up with our Twitter feed (backwards chronologically):
https://twitter.com/#!/search/realtime/%23hatboxesthemovie



© 2012 Brave Lux. All rights reserved.



The shoot lasted for six days and went well.  We ran into some glitches beyond our control on the first day (the sun does move inexorably; so do the planes approaching O'Hare from the east and the Friday late-afternoon commuter trains), but beyond those, we kept to our schedule, ate very well, discovered that some cats are good at assisting with data wrangling, and came away with some very good footage.

Photos of the overnight shoot (Urban Orchard interior, day 3):
http://flickr.com/gp/esteban_monclova/4b1x5M/

Photos of the night shoot (exterior of the apartment building two doors from my house, day 5):
http://tinyurl.com/6salu8n

I learned more about HVAC controls in those six days than I had known living in 27 different places over my entire lifetime.  It's astonishing how noisy air conditioning can be.

I learned that while the shooting schedule may look modular on paper, when it comes to making scheduling changes, considerations beyond the cold linearity of time and geography require a filmmaker's attention.  It seemed to work out for the best that the two most intense scenes got shot on the last day, but that was a lucky break.  The cast and crew of Hatboxes were an exceptional group of professionals, and working with them was an honor.

I learned that hearing the ingredients in Cheetos read aloud at Hour 11 of Shoot Day Six is unaccountably funny.

We'll keep you posted on our progress.  We've already received a rough assembly of the film, and it looks quite promising.

Susana Darwin