Under One Roof

In this house...

I watched a lot of Netflix.

I grilled a lot of steaks.

I threw parties.

I made a movie.

I kissed the love of my life for the first time.

And I asked her to marry me. 

I will always love this house for the things it gave me. 

But most of all, I love that it gave me a home.

And wherever she goes, I follow.

Music Composed and Conducted by...

James Horner is dead. To say I am heartbroken is to say water is wet. He was not necessarily a household name, nor was he someone I know or have even met, but his death hits me like a thunderbolt. Horner was the composer for too many film scores to name in full, but just a cursory glance at his resume speaks volumes about his talent: Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Titanic. Aliens. Field of Dreams. Braveheart. Apollo 13. Avatar. The Rocketeer. An American Tail. All classics, all with scores overflowing with richness and vibrance, the music soaring with urgency and emotion. Horner had a style that was instantly recognizable (and some critics would say almost to a fault), but that is what drew me to his works. His score for the 1980 Roger Corman-produced Star Wars-knockoff Battle Beyond the Stars was a watershed moment for me. It was the first score I remember humming outside of a movie theater that wasn't part of George's much larger and more recognizable space opera. Sure, I was drawn to the Williams-esque cues that tried hard to evoke the same sense of space fantasy grandiosity on a much smaller budget. Horner would later mention in an interview that it was his least favorite score because of the tiny, inexperienced orchestra he had to work with. But to the 8 year-old me who heard it first on the big screen, it sounded plenty epic enough. From that moment on, whenever Mr. Horner's name appeared in the credits, my ears took notice. As I got older and began developing a deeper appreciation for films, I sought his scores out. I scoured the movie boxes at the video store I worked at to find his name. I tried to find magazine articles or book mentions of him, which was no easy task in the pre-internet days. In high school I used to keep index cards in my desk where I would write down the names of films I discovered he had written the scores to. So many weird and wonderful films, some great, some terrible, but all possessing his trademark sound. Brainstorm. Krull. Deep Impact. Willow. Glory. Off Beat. batteries not included. 48 Hours. Volunteers. Once Around. Cocoon. Class Action. Searching for Bobby Fischer. Whenever I visited a new town, I would venture to their mall's music stores and flip through the soundtrack section in the hopes of finding an unheard Horner score to add to my collection. I probably own close to 30 of his 100-plus scores, some to films I've never even seen. But I know their music like the back of my hand. I can't pinpoint exactly what it is about his music that affects me so much, it's all subjective, but it just does. His music has inspired me, moved me, enriched my life, and touched me in a way that great art is supposed to. I've spent countless hours listening to his music, and it has always been a dream of mine to write a film worthy of his music and have him grant me the honor of writing the score for it. Sadly that will never come to pass, but his staggering body of work will continue to inspire countless film lovers and filmmakers for as long as there are movies. Thank you, Mr. Horner. It has been an honor listening to you. 

Gone Phishing

This morning I got a phishing email that was sent from an old friend's obviously hacked email account, so I decided to have some fun. I just wish I could see "Kim's" reactions to my replies.

From: Kim Fagan (and her hacked email account)

To: Michael S. Cunliffe
Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 7:23 AM
Subject: From Kim Fagan.................Help

I really hope you get this fast. I could not inform anyone about our trip, because it was impromptu. we had to be in Philippines for Tour..The program was successful, but our journey has turned sour. we misplaced our wallet and cell phone on our way back to the hotel we lodge in after we went for sight seeing. The wallet contained all the valuables we had. Now, our passport is in custody of the hotel management pending when we make payment.

I am sorry if i am inconveniencing you, but i have only very few people to run to now. i will be indeed very grateful if i can get a short term loan from you ($1,950). this will enable me sort our hotel bills and get my sorry self back home. I will really appreciate whatever you can afford in assisting me with. I promise to refund it in full as soon as soon as I return. let me know if you can be of any assistance. Please, let me know soonest.

Kim Fagan, M.D.

From:  Michael S. Cunliffe

To:  Kim Fagan
Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 10:28 AM
Subject: Re: From Kim Fagan.................Help

I can't believe you have the nerve to ask me for help after what you did the last time we saw each other.  Have you no shame? I REPEATEDLY screamed our safe word and you continued to use the bullwhip. You ripped my heart into a thousand pieces and you have the gall to ask me for money? I might be willing to help you and give you one last chance if you tell me you are sorry and that you'll give up the crazy dream of becoming a professional tennis instructor. You're a doctor, Kim, you don't just throw all that aside like you did with me. And I know you went to the Philippines for your sex re-re-reassignment surgery, don't lie. You need cash so you can get that third penis you've always wanted. Fine, I will help you, but only because I want to see you dress like a lumberjack this Christmas. Where should I send the money?

Mike

From: Kim Fagan

To: Michael S Cunliffe

Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 10:56 AM
Subject: Re: From Kim Fagan.................Help

Thanks for the prompt response...You can have the money wire to us via western union, All you need is the name on my passport and present location below:


Name: Kim Fagan Location: 1618 .M. hiron street Cruz 1004, Country: Manila Philippines
Once you are done with the transfer kindly get back to me with the western union Money Transfer Confirmation Number (MTCN)to pick up the money with my valid passport and get back home on time, Let me know if you are heading to the western union NOW?

Thanks

Kim Fagan

From:  Michael S. Cunliffe

To:  Kim Fagan
Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 10:28 AM
Subject: Re: From Kim Fagan.................Help

I don't think you're hearing me, Kim. I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for your soon to be attached penis(es). So you better appreciate all the money I am going to send you. But I need a sign, a gesture, SOMETHING that lets me know you still care. Unless you can prove to me you still love me, you won't be getting any of this money. I await your response.

Mike

From: Kim Fagan
To: Michael S Cunliffe
Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 11:38 AM
Subject: Re: From Kim Fagan.................Help

Yes I love you very much...I am freaked out here at the moment. Please keep me posted with the transfer details once done.

I owe you alot

Kim Fagan

From:  Michael S. Cunliffe

To:  Kim Fagan

Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 11:58 AM
Subject: Re: From Kim Fagan.................Help

Oh, come on, Kim, don't take that dismissive tone with me. You know full well it's that kind of abuse that makes me hate you. You don't want to turn out like your mother, do you? I didn't think so. I suppose I should be honest with you. Your mother told me right before she died that she never loved you, she always wanted a son and you were her biggest disappointment. But I kept it from you because I know how hard you would take it. But then again, you're always strong, you can handle anything. Which is why it is so odd that you would send me a message for help. I think I need to teach you a lesson. You need to get out of this jam yourself. It might be hard for you to see it now, but this is for your own good. Anyway, I don't have time for this, I'll be leaving the country soon, I have all that Nazi gold to bury and the corpse of Eleanor Roosevelt to reanimate. Have fun in the Philippines! I'll send you a postcard when I find that Vietnamese prostitute that stole my soul back in the 70s. She still insists that she doesn't have it, but I know she does, I showed it to her before I put on the tooth fairy costume and robbed that old lady of her meth. Ironic, no? Meth makes you lose teeth, Kim, but you know that better than anyone, what with the dentist you strangled to keep her from blabbing about the inheritance money you swindled her out of. I don't blame you, if I saw a couple of incisors coming at me in the dark after all the LSD we took, I'd strangle anything that moves. It's like that time in Mexico when we crashed your car into the monastery and burned all the monks to keep warm. Good times, Kim, good times. Can't put a price tag on those memories. They're worth a lot more that $1950. That should be payment enough, don't you think?

Mike

From: Kim Fagan

To: Michael S Cunliffe
Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 12:04 PM
Subject: Re: From Kim Fagan.................Help

Now you shouldn't see this as a joke....you and i know i will need my passport ID to pick up the money at the western union outlet. I told you my present predicament and you are there asking me questions. my return flight leaves in couple of hours from now and am seriously having problems with the hotel manager. He has never been nice to me since the day i got mugged.

I want you to know its me and FYI i will never give my password to any one. I'm writing to you now with bruises all over my head. Kindly head out to the western union to wire the money to my name and my present location so that i can sort out my bills and start coming back home before i miss my return flight. I promise to pay back as soon as am back home today.

As soon as it is done, Kindly get back to me with the western union confirmation details. 

I owe you a lot.

Kim Fagan

From: Michael S. Cunliffe

To:  Kim Fagan
Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 2:04 PM
Subject: Re: From Kim Fagan.................Help

Okay, you're right. It's not a joke. I'm sorry for making fun of you. I can understand how hard it is to deal with your situation. It reminds me of that time in Guam when we carjacked that busload of school kids and used them as human lawn darts. We tied the littlest one to that sharpened pole-vaulting pole and launched her into the air with that catapult we made with the bungee cords and the last nitrous oxide tank we hadn't used up. You lit the fuse with the one burning monk that was still on fire and we watched as our makeshift missile shot straight into the sky. It arced over the refinery, then plummeted back to earth, where the pole landed with a loud "SHLURP" into the soft mud of the riverbank. Next time we have to remember to tie the kids to the poles with their heads pointed away from the pointy end so that they land right side up. Ah well, live and learn. But I'll never forget that drunk homeless guy who saw the whole thing and called the cops, which pissed you off so bad you shot him with the German Luger you stole from the fat Armenian guy back at the opium den. Worst MLK Birthday ever. And I'll tell you the same thing now that I told you then, when it comes to black tar heroin, Guam is not a buyer's market. I don't know why I let you convince me otherwise. I bet the bruises we got from the beatings we endured on that trip are just like the ones you have now. See, Kim, it all comes full circle. Life's funny that way. Look, I could go on for days about the adventures we had together, but you've got a plane to catch. I was going to send you the money through Western Union, but I wasn't sure if you wanted US dollars or Mexican Pesos? I may have to go the bank if you need the Pesos, but I know how much prettier you think their money is. Actually, would Swiss francs be okay? I still have that big stack of them you left on my nightstand right next to the skull of Danny Kaye you got me when I graduated Phoenix University. Just let me know which you prefer!

Mike

From: Michael S. Cunliffe

To:  Kim Fagan
Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 4:44 PM
Subject: Re: From Kim Fagan.................Help

You didn't respond to my last email, is everything okay?  I still want to send you the money, just tell me what currency you need it in!

Mike

From: Kim Fagan <kimfaganmd@yandex.com>
To: Michael S Cunliffe <mcunliffe@sbcglobal.net>
Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 5:21 PM
Subject: Re: From Kim Fagan.................Help

please all needed is $1950…

Kim Fagan

From: Michael S. Cunliffe

To:  Kim Fagan
Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2015 10:48 PM
Subject: Re: From Kim Fagan.................Help

Okay, Kim. I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’ve decided that this will be our last correspondence. It’s not me, Kim, it’s you. You’ve just become so distant lately. Your last minute jaunts to far-off destinations, soliciting people for money at all hours of the night, getting smacked around by abusive hotel managers… We used to dream about those things together, Kim, don’t you remember?  All those crazy late nights we spent smuggling fake Levi’s jeans into Russia to in the late 1980s.  There we were, a thousand miles behind the Iron Curtain, freezing our asses off inside some dingy tractor trailer in subzero temperatures just so we could scam those poor Ruskie teens with knock-off 501s we got wholesale from that gypsy woman you used to know back in Tangiers. I looked over at you in the night air, with nothing between us and the harsh Soviet wasteland except a cracked windshield and said, “When we get back to civilization, I’m booking the two of us a one-way ticket to the Philipines!” But that dream never came true, Kim. Once we got back to the U.S. you took our life savings and gave it all to the Scientologists.  Sure, you reached OT Level 9, met Xenu, and can bend spoons with your mind, but did you ever stop to think what would do to me? My body thetans were never going to be able to keep up with yours, you have too many midicholrians. And those drunken orgies at the Celebrity Center were murder on my soul and my liver. I don’t know what hurts more, the fact that Tom Cruise still calls you, or that John Travolta still pronounces my name correctly.  But I don’t have to rehash all the details, you know damn well this is what forced us apart. And now, here we are, decades later, and you throw it in my face that you are out there enjoying our shared paradise with somebody else. I guess I should have known that Reagan’s America was too good to last and when the Berlin Wall came crashing down, so did any chance of us making it. You were once the Glasnost of my heart, but this is where I draw the line. Say goodbye, Kim, and say goodbye to my $1950. You will just have to find your way home alone. As we all do. 

Mike

The Card in My Wallet

I've wanted to make movies since I was 5 years old.  My parents taking me to see Star Wars in the summer of 1977 saw to that.  At the time I had no idea what exactly that meant, but the combination of light and magic I saw projected on that movie screen in Asheville, North Carolina 37 years ago flipped a switch in my brain and I've never been the same since.  Pretty much every decision I've made up to now has in one way or another been influenced by that event.  Said outloud, it sounds absurd that a movie with a giant walking carpet and a bad guy with asthma could influence someone so profoundly, but it happened.  Of course, it wasn't until college when I really began to understand how the business of movies worked.  They didn't just conjure themselves out of thin air and arrive at the movie theater (or video store) by magic.  All those names in the closing credits aren't there for nothing.  Making movies takes people, and usually a lot of them.  When I finally had the opportunity to work on a real film set, I learned very quickly that even the smallest of films have a million moving parts, and if any one of them is out of whack, the entire thing can collapse.  No one sets out to make a bad film, but it's really easy to do if you're not careful.  But, despite the fragile nature of the pursuit, and the scarcity of economic resources required to undertake such a voyage, somewhere in the Summer of 1996 I committed to paper a vow that I would be undaunted by the challenges that lie ahead and that I would someday realize my childhood dream and make an honest-to-George motion picture.  In color, no less.  I was inspired by a TV profile of Jim Carrey, who at the time was the highest paid actor in show biz.  Years before he became the biggest star on the planet, when he had first moved to Hollywood to realize his dreams, he climbed to the top of Griffith Park and looked out over the city, vowing to himself that he would make it.  He took out a piece of paper and wrote himself a check for one million dollars "for acting services rendered."  He then slipped the check into his wallet, promising himself one day that he would cash that check.  And of course, we all know how that turned out.  So, in the spirit of Mr. Carrey's positive thinking, I wrote out a promise to myself.  Nothing as lofty as a million bucks, but a vow nonetheless that I would actually do it.  At the time, I was working at Eastdale Mall in Montgomery at the 8-screen Carmike Cinema next to the Sears.  By the time I left I had become a projectionist there, but my initial job was standing in the lobby and announcing from the intercom what movies were seating.  Because I stood next to the velvet ropes that blocked the lobby from the hallway, the position was called "The Ropes."  Eastdale 8 was the first theater in town with a THX certified sound system.  It was, at the time, the crown jewel of the Carmike theaters in Montgomery.  What better place, I thought, to premiere my own movie?  So, in the early morning hours of June (I've always been a night owl), I put pen to paper and wrote out the following on an index card:

Sunday, June 30, 1996

3:35 AM

I, Mike Cunliffe, will in 5 years, return to Eastdale 8 Cinemas, and announce from the ropes to a crowd of friends and family that my movie is now seating.  Thank you and enjoy the show.

Then I signed it, folded it up, and put it in my wallet.  Now keep in mind, I had not even written a script yet.  I didn't even have a story.  I certainly didn't know I was going to pay for it.  And up to this point, the only real experience I had in the film business was cleaning up the theater after Braveheart let out.  So giving myself only 5 years to make good on the promise might have been a bit ambitious.  And once I realized (very quickly) that it was going to take a bit longer that that, I just left the index card in my wallet.  I had to shore it up with scotch tape over the years, and retrace the faded lettering to make it legible, but it has survived numerous washings, wallets, and whatever else I could throw at it.  It's like a good luck charm, a motivator, and a reminder all at once.  I sometimes forget it is there, but I'll catch sight of it when I'm buying groceries and all the reasons why I want to make movies come rushing back, even if only for a microsecond.  And a week ago, after more adventures that I can recount here, I got to finally make good on the deal.  Okay, so the movie theater I used to work at doesn't exist anymore, and it took 17 years instead of 5, but I finally got to show a crowd of family and friends that the silly 5-year old who fell in love with movies in a galaxy far, far away could make one of his own.  And in color no less.  I can't put into words what it was like to be in that theater that night.  I'll never forget it as long as I live.  It made everything worth it.  Everything.  And I am overwhelmed with gratitude.  To so many.  For so many reasons.  But mostly, I am proud. Of the film, for sure, but also, I'm proud of myself for seeing it through.  For not giving up.  For not letting the fear and the doubt and the calendar discourage me.  It's been the hardest thing I've ever done.  And I wanted to stop a thousand times.  But I didn't.  Because I wrote to myself and said I wouldn't.  It took me longer than I thought it would, but if I've learned anything on this crazy adventure it's that dreams don't have a time limit.  They really can and do come true. 

Loretta

I'll never forget the day I met her.  It was a humid, overcast morning in September, 2002.  I was headed to work at WAKA TV-8, the local CBS affiliate in Montgomery, Alabama.  I put the key in the ignition of my car and started down the road.  But I quickly realized that something was amiss.  The normally cold and refreshing air from the air conditioner was blowing warm and unpleasant in my face.   I could just feel it in my gut that whatever might be wrong with my car, it wasn't going to be cheap to fix.

WAKA shared a property line with the Montgomery Saturn dealership.  My parking space at work literally faced rows and rows of Saturns for sale just a few dozen feet away from the station's satellite dishes.  So on that fateful September morning, instead of pulling into WAKA's lot, I pulled into the Saturn service bay.  The mechanics opened the hood, prodded around, and told me that my air conditioner was kaput.  The cost to fix it would be at least 3 times what the car was worth.  And anyone living in Alabama knows that come spring, the heat inside a car without a working air conditioner is akin to riding around in a sauna for 5 months.  Unwilling to face that prospect, I turned and looked out at the dealership window and spotted a shiny, silver-blue sedan sitting in the corner.  I turned back to the sales guy and said, "I'll take that one."

A few hours later, after a quick test drive and a lot of paperwork, I drove off the lot in my brand new 2002 Saturn SL-2, complete with CD player, power locks, power windows, and working air conditioner.  My initial ride in my new car was fairly short, only the few hundred feet from the dealership to the WAKA lot, but the new car smell filled my nostrils and the music was cranked up.  I showed off my new transport to my fellow co-workers, then went up to my office to catch up on my work for the day.  It was only a few minutes later, a half hour at the most, that my office phone rang.  The voice on the other end was Robin Citrin, the location manager for the film Big Fish.  Weeks before, I had interviewed with her for a possible job on the set of the movie which was in pre-production in the city.  She was calling to tell me that the film had officially been given a green light by the studio and that the job was mine if I wanted it.  I was to start in 3 weeks for a 7 month shoot.  I had to pick my jaw up off the floor.  In the span of a few hours I went from having a broken air conditioner to owning a new car and getting a job on a Tim Burton movie.

That was just the beginning of the adventures of Loretta and me.  Yes, my car was named Loretta.  It's a reference to a line in Monty Python's Life of Brian ("I want to be called Loretta and have babies").  I don't know why that line stuck with me, it has absolutely nothing to do with cars, but it just seemed like the right name for my car.  I never called her that in public, but when we were alone, she was Loretta and she was my baby.  My car.  There was the Betty Page air freshener that hung from her mirror, the rapidly fading Daffy Duck that sat in the rear window, and all the other quirks and eccentricities that she possessed.  All cars have their own unique personality and Loretta was no different.  And in the nearly 11 years I owned her, I got know her very well.  She was with me every single day on the set of Big Fish, taking me to and from all the magic and wonder that I witnessed on that film on a daily basis.  And after the film wrapped, she was my ride to Los Angeles when I moved away.  She was forced to endure the slog of the trip that is Texas, the miles and miles of dirt, oil rigs, and Whataburgers that you have to suffer through to get to California.  But she never complained, she just hummed along and kept me on the right course, with cool air and loud tunes the whole way.

Loretta survived 4 years of L.A. traffic, safely navigating the 10, the 101, and the 405 the entire time.  She drove me up the Pacific Coast Highway to watch the sunset over the ocean countless times.  I took her to every movie set I worked on and she always got me back home, even when I was bleary-eyed and exhausted from another 15 hour day.  She was there for me when I moved back to Alabama, she was there during my marriage and all good times that came with that, and she was there for me during my divorce, helping me literally pick up the pieces of my life and move forward.  She took me to on trips to visit family at the holidays, to weddings, to funerals, to the biggest moments of my life and the lives of the people around me.  Maybe it's silly to wax poetic about an internal combustion engine with 4 doors and a radio, but my car really did mean a lot to me. She was the place I collected my thoughts, the place I listened to music only I wanted to hear, and the place where I often did my best thinking.  We take it for granted, but when you think about it, you really do spend a lot of time alone in your car.  It's one of the few places where you get to be alone, inside your own little bubble of sanity that only you and the car know about.  Loretta knew a lot about me, that's for sure.  She saw me at my best, my worst and all points in-between.  But she never said anything, she just kept her wheels on the road and got me home at the end of the day.

She wasn't perfect.  The windshield washer never worked right, and the driver's side window wouldn't roll down.  And like all cars, despite regular oil changes, tire rotations, and tune-ups, she just got to be too expensive to maintain.  When she started having the symptoms of a major problem last week, I took her to the Tire Pros downtown and it was clear her time had come.  It was sad cleaning her out and saying goodbye, but life moves on.  It's just a car.  And by this time next week I'm sure I'll have another one to carry me around.  I'm not sure what kind of car it will be, and I don't know what kind of adventures we will have together.  I'm sure they will be just as amazing and strange and unpredictable as the ones I've had with the last one.  But I'll always look back fondly at my time with Loretta.  She was with me during some crazy days and even crazier nights.  I've never been much of a car guy, but I'll sure miss this one.  Thanks, Loretta.  I hope your rest in peace is rust-free.

Sounds Like A Movie

Trying to make a feature-length film is just slightly less complicated than landing a man on the moon, and when you're trying to do for practically no money, you might as well be wearing a blindfold.  Not only are you attempting the impossible, but you're doing it in the dark.  But, if you just keep fumbling around and aren't afraid of tripping over yourself, eventually (hopefully) you find your way.  Even though the script for It Is What It Is was written with an ultra-low budget in mind, it still requires some money bring it to life.  And trying to raise money for any movie is always an uphill battle, not matter how big or small that movie may be.  The trick is to not give up and not get discouraged.  It's like trying to break down a brick wall with a rubber mallet.  It feels like an impossible task, but with enough patience and perseverance, eventually the wall comes tumbling down.

Going into this project, I knew that raising the funds was going to be the problem, the problem that has derailed so many other unfinished films before it.  Way back when I was in college and was first thinking of making my own feature films, the tools required to shoot a movie were insanely expensive.  The cost of the film stock alone could be tens of thousands of dollars.  And the cameras that use that film stock aren't cheap to rent either, plus the costs of processing the film after you've shot it.  So even if you're just making a film about two guys having dinner in a room, you're already hundreds of thousands of dollars in the red before you shoot a single frame.  Thankfully, advances in digital technology over the last 15 years have done a lot to to level the playing field, making it possible to shoot feature-quality footage at a fraction of the cost of film.  But you still have to rent cameras, lenses, lights, and microphones just like every other movie.   Not to mention the props, costumes, location fees, and all the other unavoidable costs associated with making a film.  And then you have to hire talented folks who know how to use all that stuff to shoot the film itself.  It may be a lot cheaper to make movies now than it once was, but it's still not free.  You have to pay for it somehow.  

Since the rise of social networking, crowdsourcing (through sites like Kickstarter and IndieGoGo) has become the go-to method for raising funds for independent films these days.  And while many films have funded their productions this way, it's hardly a slam dunk.  Many more fail than succeed.  We fell short of our own initial crowdsourcing goal this past fall.  That said, the support we did receive was truly humbling and there aren't enough words to express my gratitude and appreciation for the folks who donated to us.  The show of support from friends, family, and even total strangers only makes me determined to finish this film even more.  We don't quite have enough to film the entire movie yet, but we're well on our way, and the only thing to do is to just keep hammering away until we knock down the entire wall.

To help in that effort, we're holding a fundraiser on February 28 at Avondale Brewing Company to try and raise the remainder of what we need to shoot the film.   There will be great food, great beer, and some amazing local music.  Some insanely talented Birmingham musicians have been kind enough to lend their talents to the cause and will be performing that night.  Their music will also appear in the film, which is so exciting I can't even begin to tell you how happy it makes me.

I first became familiar with Delicate Cutters through local filmmaker Chance Shirley.  Not only is he a talented film director with two feature films under his belt (Hide & Creep and Interplanetary), he also plays drums in the band.  Their music is a perfect blend of bluesy southern rock that just sounds like Birmingham to me.  And they are incredible live. Their music plays a big role in a major scene in the film and really captures the spirit of the movie.  Plus, we are going to shoot a cameo of the band performing live in the film.   You can see the new music video for their song Tilt-A-Whirl right here:

Delicate Cutters - Tilt-A-Whirl

The first time I saw Gabriel Tajeu perform was at Artwalk weekend last year.  He started into his set on the outdoor stage that Saturday afternoon and I stopped in my tracks.  His music instantly conjured up images in my head of It Is What It Is.  The song he started his set with sounded like it had been written for the movie.  I was knocked out by his soulful blend of pop and R&B.  I immediately tracked him down (i.e. stalked on Facebook) and somehow convinced him to contribute some of his music to the film.  And not only is he a great musician, he's an even nicer person.  One of his songs features during a very emotional and significant turning point in the lives of two of the main characters in the film.  Here is a video of Gabriel performing live at BAAM Fest:

Gabriel Tajeau - BAAM Fest

There's a lot more in the works, and come hell or high water this movie will get made.  Having talented  folks like the ones above contributing to the film just makes me more confident than ever.  If nothing else, this movie will have an incredible soundtrack!  For more information about the Fundraiser, check out our Facebook Event right here:

It Is What It Is Fundraiser - February 28th at Avondale Brewing Company

Avondale Brewery also features prominently as a location in the film, so it wil be a great night for folks to come out and get a sense of what the movie is all about and meet some of the talented people working in front of and behind the camera.  Even if you can't make it out, invite your friends and help support local filmmaking!

All This Time

In the Fall of 1990 I was a fresh-faced freshman attending my first quarter at Auburn University Montgomery.  Like most 18 year-olds straight out of high school, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and certainly had no major picked out.  Film school was not even on my radar at the time, and even if it was I never could have afforded it anyway  But I always liked getting in front of people and making a fool of myself, so on a lark I decided to take a film acting class.  I figured it would be an easy A for my first quarter and I might even get to meet girls.  Well, I didn't meet any in that class, but I did find out about auditions for "The Night of the Iguana" being held by Theatre AUM.  Encouraged by the professor to try out, I decided to show up and give it a shot.  Dr. Gaines, the head of the Theatre Department and director of the show, for reasons only known to him cast me as Pancho, one of the Mexican houseboys.  It was my first role in a real play with real lines (all in Spanish), and even though I had to dye my hair black and cover my body with brown make-up every night, I embraced the role and my life at Theatre AUM had officially begun.  And one of the first people I met at Theatre AUM was Jim Burbey.  He had been cast as Jake Latta in the show and since neither of us had very big parts, we wound up spending a lot of time backstage just hanging out.  Jim was a lovable lunk, a term I use with the utmost respect and affection.  He was a big guy, with long, floppy hair, piercing eyes, and a wide grin that was always a welcome sight.  And I think even he would agree he was just a few degrees off normal, which is a requirement for anyone who has a passion for performing, and one of the reasons we bonded so quickly.  During our conversations backstage, Jim and I would swap stories about music we liked, movies we loved, and I am lucky to say that after that show, we had become friends.  We would often hang out in his dorm with other theatre misfits and play role-playing games, watch movies, and just be the goofy oddballs that made us members of Theatre AUM.  After that first show, Jim and I spent a lot of time together working after hours at the theatre helping Mike Winkelman build sets, collect props, and do whatever necessary to get the next show off the ground.  One of my fondest memories of those late nights was Jim bringing in CDs to listen to while we worked.  We would often load up the disc player in the booth and let the music ring out across the theatre as we helped Mike bring his magnificent sets to life.  But after my first full year at AUM I decided to drop out, still unsure of what I wanted to do with my life.  But Theatre AUM always called me back, and eventually I made theatre my major, and my life has been ever richer for it.  And it was because of people like Jim.  Jim was like all the other theatre people I have known: eccentric, hilarious, emotional, and wonderful.  He had problems and demons just like we all do, but in the warm embrace of the theatre and the people who filled it, he, like me, found a refuge from the real world and knew that inside those walls, no matter what, he was accepted.  We were a part of a community, part of an amazing world where no one judged you, no one looked down on you, and no one believed you weren't worth including.  Over the years, Jim and I worked on a few more shows together, but real life takes you in strange directions and eventually we lost touch, save for a random encounter here and there.  But thanks to Facebook we did reconnect a couple years ago and it was nice to see that he was still that same lovable lunk I knew way back in the day.  Like a lot of people you meet in life, you take for granted that they will always be there, and to hear of Jim's passing this week broke my heart.  But the memories I have of he and I killing time backstage, telling jokes and swapping stories are some of my fondest memories of my time at Theatre AUM.  Because Jim was a guy who was just fun to be around.   I will never forget one night at the theatre in early 1991, Jim brought in a copy of Sting's album "The Soul Cages" which had just come out.  He couldn't stop raving about it, so we put it on the CD player and let it loop while we painted the set for "The Memorandum."  And from that night on, any time I hear that album, I always think of Jim and the fun we had just being oddballs in the theatre.  Thank you, Jim, for showing me there was a place for guys like us in this world.  For that I will be forever grateful.  See you in the next life, my friend. 

Put a Little Love in Your Heart

     Like everyone else, I've shed more than a few tears over the senseless tragedy that occurred this weekend. And, just like everyone else, I have no answers as why it happened or what to do about it.  Bad things happen.  They just do.  There's no getting around it.  And when they do, our first impulse is often anger.  The desire to lash out, to revenge ourselves on the evil that has taken from us that thing we hold most precious and dear.  That is a natural and human instinct.  Sometimes, our first impulse is to blame, to finger-point and make wholesale declarations on how to stop another tragedy like this one from happening again.  Often, these statements are born out of raw, wounded emotion that clouds our reasoning and logic, leading to ill-advised solutions that only make things worse.  Again, this is a natural and human instinct.  When unpredictable events disrupt our lives to the very core, it is only logical that we react just as unpredictably and with equal ferocity.  

  
     But, just like every other tragic event in our history, there are tales that emerge of bravery and courage, of those who survived and those not as fortunate.  Tales of those who were taken too soon, of the lives they touched and the lives they changed.  And tales of coming together, of picking up the pieces and finding some way to move forward, to heal.  This has been the way of things after every catastrophic and heartbreaking event in our time, and of all those that came before.  For an all-too-brief moment, we put aside the things that make us different and focus on the things that make us the same.  We realize that we all have something in common, something that makes us all threads of the same tapestry.  We remember that we're all a part of something bigger, and that we're all a part of it together.  It is the greatest strength of the human race to come together in times like this.  It's just a shame it takes times like this for us to actually come together.  But again, that is just a natural and human instinct.

     In times like this, people turn to whatever they can to bring some kind of comfort or distraction to their heartbreak.  I can't pretend to know the kind of pain being experienced by those directly affected by this senseless act, and it would be foolish to think anything I have to offer would be of any solace or significance to them.  But every year around this time I like to watch some of my favorite holiday movies to get into the spirit of things and this year is no exception.  Before the events of this weekend I watched Scrooged for the umpteenth time.  It's not exactly a classic by any means, but Bill Murray is always good for a laugh and he gives a great speech at the end about the true meaning of the season.  As the film closes, this song plays over the credits.  It's an insignificant piece of 80's fluff, but it has never failed to bring a smile to my face and put me in the holiday spirit, which is something we could all benefit from right now, if only for a moment.  And while the lyrics are kind of corny and old fashioned, I think the message it conveys feels very appropriate for these days.  I hope there is a light at the end of this very dark tunnel for those who have lost so much, and I hope there are better days ahead for us all.

Kickstarter!

So, we'll just come right out and say it.  We want your money.  We'll take anything.  Loose change.  That extra five dollar bill you found crumpled in that old pair of jeans the other day.  Your kids' college fund.  Whatever you can give, We'll gladly take it off your hands.  Why?  Well, me and my friends are trying to make a movie.  A real one.  Full-length.  With color and sound and everything.  It's going to be funny and romantic and dramatic and all the things you want in a great movie.  Only problem is in order to make the movie, we have to pay for it first.  I mean, don't get me wrong, we've done everything we can to keep it ultra-low budget.  Super-ultra-low budget.  From the script, to the cast, to the locations; we've taken great care to keep it as cheap as we can.  But, even with all our meticulous planning, we still need an extra buck or two (or twenty) to get it done for real.  So, what do you say?  Help us out?  We promise to make a damn good movie everybody can be proud of, and you will have made a life-long dream for us come true.  Win-win all around.  So, have a look at our Kickstarter page and consider helping us out.  Consider donating all the loose change from the floorboards of your car.  Or the coins buried under your couch cushions.  Or that giant bag of money you swiped during that armored car heist last week.  Like I said, we'll take anything.  Then tell your friends, your family, your neighbors, people on the street, that guy in line at the grocery store, and ask them to take a look, too.  We appreciate any and all support you can give us!  It's going to be a great movie!

Soon to Be a Major Motion Picture...

There's a big item on my to-do list.  It's been on my list since I was 5 years old, and it's about time I got around to crossing it off.  The biggest goal of my life has always been to write and direct a feature film. Not an easy goal, to be sure, but it seems that patience and time has finally started to pay off.  This is a "pitch reel" for a script I wrote called "It Is What It Is," a romantic comedy set in Birmingham.  It follows a young couple, Josh and Lara, about to be married.  After a 4 year engagement, and despite some last minute jitters, they are finally taking the plunge.  To celebrate, their friends decide to take them out for a wild night on the town.  But when Josh's old college roommate, Terry, comes into town, secrets from Lara's past come to light, changing everything.  I've written other scripts over the years, but this one was designed specifically from the ground up to be shot for a limited budget.  It is our hope that this trailer will help us raise the funds we need to shoot the actual film within the next few months.  Stay tuned for more updates, including when we will be posting the trailer to Kickstarter.com and how you can help us make this film a reality.  But for now, enjoy the trailer.  It features some incredibly talented folks in front of and behind the camera that will be helping us make the real deal.  Just FYI,  a word or two is NSFW.  Enjoy!

Don't Stop Believing

40.  The number of times I've been all the way around the sun.  In the cosmic scale of the universe, 40 years is nothing.  A nanosecond.  Barely the blink of an eye.  And in truth, that's how long it feels like sometimes.  As you get older, it really does seem like time moves faster and faster.  25 feels like last week.  10 feels like last year.  5 was two summers ago.  I always thought when I turned 40 I would feel old, but instead I feel like barely any time has passed at all.  But then I stop and actually consider all that has happened in my lifetime, and it boggles my mind.  It is then when I start to realize how much can happen with each orbit around the sun.  So many events I have witnessed, so many people whose lives I have crossed.  So many sights, smells, laughs, tears, and meals I have shared.  They say your brain keeps a perfect record of everything that has ever happened to you, we just don't know how to access it all.  If we did, there are so many things I would want to experience again.  And probably just as many that I would want to keep locked away forever.  But looking back on all the times I do remember, I marvel at how every one of those experiences led me to this point in my life.  Everything I have ever done in my 40 years on this planet has brought me to right here.  So many triumphs, so many failures.  So many good times.  So many not.  So many things I wish I could do over, exactly as they were, and so many I wish I could do over, period.  But despite the regrets I may have in my life, I don't regret the life I have.  It has been a hell of ride so far, one that constantly surprises and mystifies me.  I'm still figuring it all out, and in truth I probably will never understand it all, but I kind of think that's the point.  We're all part of some giant science experiment designed to see what happens when crazy is allowed to run amuck untethered.  Half the fun of life is watching us bump into each other, trying to understand what the hell we're all doing here and why.  Sure, it can get volatile sometimes and bad things happen when the wrong chemicals mix, but when the right kind of crazy interacts, the results can be magic.  In just the past year alone I experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  So many things I wish I could undo, just as many I wish I could relive over and over again.  With a year like that, I'm sure voyage around the sun number 41 will be just as amazing, frustrating, exhilarating, disappointing, spectacular and heartbreaking as the last 40.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  Somebody once said,  "It's not the destination, it's the journey." I really do believe that.  Then again, we could all be saying it wrong and it could actually be, "It's not the destination, it's the Journey," meaning the 80's rock band fronted by Steve Perry.  And considering how crazy everything else on earth can be while we spin around the sun, that almost makes more sense.

You've Got to Come Back With Me

So Doo Dah Day is tomorrow.  It's a great event in Birmingham, sort of a giant love-in for dog lovers put on every year by the Humane Society.  People from all over bring their dogs to the park for parades, music fun, and games.  The Humane Society also helps dogs find forever homes, which is always a good thing.  It's a great event, one that would be even better if I actually had a dog.  I'm almost afraid to go down there this year, I might be tempted to pick one up.  I'd love to get a dog, actually, but my lease doesn't allow them.  Then again, my landlord is pretty great and I bet if I called him up and asked, he'd let me have one in the house (almost makes me afraid to call him, then I'd have no choice but to go down there).  However, there are a couple of ladies living in my house already that might have some thoughts on the matter.  Not sure if Sammy Jo and Captain Kitty would take too kindly to someone else moving in on their turf.  I'll get in touch with their people and see what they have to say.  It's hard to get a face-to-face with cats if they don't want to see you.  Sure, feeding time, lap time, sleep time, they're all up in your business.  But need to ask a serious question, they are harder to reach than Old Yeller (what, too soon?).  Anyway, one of these days I have a feeling another four-legged friend will make an appearance around these parts.  We'll see what happens.  But oddly enough, when I think about Doo Dah Day, my first thought isn't dogs.  Instead I think about driving to the beach in the middle of the night, putting on a suit, and watching the sunrise over the ocean, hoping the rapture doesn't occur.  It sounds strange, but that's exactly what I did around this time last year when Joe Walker asked me to be in his Sidewalk Scramble film and had the crazy notion of driving all the way to the Gulf Coast to get a shot on the beach at sunrise.  It's also the date when crazy Harold Camping told everyone the rapture was going to happen.  Since we only had one shot at this shot (and only 48 hours total to complete the whole film), we were relieved when Camping proved to be a wackjob.  God never showed so we were able to finish the film on time.  And after we drove all the way back to Birmingham, bleary-eyed and exhausted from staying awake all night, we arrived smack dab in the middle of Doo Dah Day.  There were dogs everywhere, dressed in all manner of doggie costumes, which took forever to navigate around in order to get back to our cars to finally go home and get some sleep.  It was like we had escaped the real rapture and found ourselves in the middle of some bizarre doggie version where all dogs go to heaven and get to wear funny hats on the way.  So this year, I think I will forgo the beach trip and look into finding a dog that might need a place to stay until the real rapture occurs.  Who knows, maybe if I get one, I can take them to the beach next year.

Deconstructing Bad

I am addicted to Breaking Bad.  I came to the party late, I only started watching it over the last few months, but I have made up for lost time very quickly.  I have just wrapped up the third season and am about to embark on season four.  Everything about the show is amazing; the cast, the writing, the cinematography, the use of Bob Odenkirk; it's quickly moved up into my list of all-time Top Ten television shows.  It may have even pushed Lost off the list.  Blasphemy, I know, but the show is just that damn good.  For those not familiar, it stars Bryan Cranston as Walter White, a middle-aged high school science teacher who learns he is dying of cancer.  In order to provide for his wife and handicapped son before his impending demise, Walt starts secretly cooking and selling meth with one of his former students, a slacker pothead named Jesse Pinkman played by Aaron Paul.  Things go good for about five minutes.  And then shit starts hitting the fan.  Constantly.  What transpires over the course of the show is something I won't dare spoil here, suffice it to say that it is well worth the time to find out.  Watching the show is like getting a master class on filmmaking.  The episodes are compelling, exciting, funny, violent, and all manner of surprising.  The relationships between the characters and how they weave the story together is something I find huge inspiration in.  It is a show I have tried to not only enjoy as a viewer, but also study as a filmmaker.  There is one scene in particular that I remember watching and thinking, "Wow, this show is working on a different level than most."  It's not a huge moment in the overall arc of the show, but it's a perfect example of the kind technical artistry on display on both sides of the camera.  It's a moment involving Hank, Walter's brother-in-law (played by Dean Norris) who just happens to be a D.E.A. agent.  I'll try to keep this as spoiler-free as possible, but the scene is in the second season of the show, when Hank is trying to track down a meth dealer known on the street as "Heisenberg."  Heisenberg's meth is something of a legend in the meth world, far purer and stronger than the normal stuff cooked in somebody's bathroom.  The search for Heisenberg has become Hank's obsession, one that has put a huge strain on his home and work life.  What Hank doesn't know is that the dealer he is looking for is Walt, who is doing anything and everything he can to keep Hank from learning the truth.  In the episode, Hank has finally tracked Heisenberg down to the old RV he produces his meth in, sort of like a mobile drug lab.  Thinking he has Heisenberg cornered, Hank is  about to move in.  Suddenly gets a call on his cell phone, informing him his wife has been in an accident and is in intensive care.  Suddenly, everything in Hank's world changes.  The color in the picture drains away, the contrast increases, the sound becomes muffled and dark.  It cuts to a frantic Hank, speeding away in his car as fast as he can drive, arriving at the hospital.  He's panicked as he races down the hospital hallways, desperate to find his wife.  A nurse finally calms him down and tells him they don't know what he is talking about, there haven't been any accidents today.  Hank stops.  The realization washes over his face.  Heisenberg faked the call from the hospital.  It was a trick to get rid of Hank so Heisenberg could escape.  The anger on Hank's face sells the moment perfectly, but here is where the technical wizardry at work really started to catch my eye.  The sound slowly comes back, and the color begins to return to normal.  But ever-so-subtlely the color starts to increase.  The reds start to take over a bit, combining with the light reflecting off Hank's sweating face, to turn his face red.  It seemed like Hank's blood was boiling over, like you could almost see steam rising off his face.  It was subtle, but it was beautiful.  I played the scene back a couple of times and really started to deconstruct it, paying close attention to the editing, the lighting, the framing, and all the other elements, trying to learn the magicians' tricks.  But these are tricks I don't mind having spoiled for me.  I have been very fortunate in the past to have seen up-close how a lot of movies and TV shows are made, but sometimes when you are working on a set, you get so caught up in the rush to get things done on-time and under budget, you can lose the artistry of it.  There's so many different moving parts that it's not always possible to keep them moving properly.  I have worked on many projects, large and small, where when I watched the final product, it was a letdown.  Just one wrong moving part and it can ruin the entire thing.  Pick the wrong actor, the wrong location, the wrong costume, or even the wrong caterer, and you can doom a project to failure.  Believe me.  I worked on this, I know what I'm talking about.  But, on those rare occasions when they do get it right, when you find a film or TV show where all the moving parts are working in unison, it gives me hope that it's not impossible.  That if you keep your eye on the details, and surround yourself with other talented artists who can keep an eye on them too, something genuinely moving and worthwhile can be created.  Of course, I say this now.  I said the same thing about Lost at the end of it's third season and look what happened to that one (A light in a cave?  Really, Lindelof?  A LIGHT IN A FRAKING CAVE?  REALLY?????  Sigh.  Sorry, I'm still a little bitter).  Anyhow, I hope Breaking Bad keeps up the amazing work on both sides of the camera and avoids the pitfalls that have sometimes befallen past shows when they try to land the plane (coughLostcough).  But for now, I am glued to the screen for the rest of the ride Breaking Bad is taking me on.  I'll also be taking lots of notes along the way.  And if my film plans don't work out, the show will probably have taught me how to make meth by then, so I've got that to fall back on.  Who says TV isn't educational?

Trivial Characters

          I hosted trivia at Rojo tonight.  Something I signed up for on a whim a couple of months ago.  In some ways the only surprising thing about it is that I hadn't signed up to do it sooner.  My head is filled with useless information I'm not doing anything with.  A storehouse of random crap I have gleaned from years of watching movies and TV.  Things like who the director of Buckaroo Banzai is (W.D. Richter) or who plays the voice of the talking Johnny Cabs in Totall Recall (Robert Picardo).  I don't remember a word of French from college, but I do know that French new-wave film director Francois Truffaut is in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.  Go figure.  But for some reason, those are the things that stick.  Anyway, since my head is jammed packed with a lifetime of irrelevant information, I have labored to find a useful purpose for it all.  I mean, if it's going to take up space, it might as well make itself useful, right?  Well, tonight I found a great way to put it to good use.  This giant trivia-soaked sponge of a brain inside my head provided me with plenty of material to choose from when crafting the questions I asked.  Granted, the teams who played were very sharp and answered some of my most challenging questions with ease, but I felt like the range of questions was broad enough to make it interesting and they weren't all walks in the park.  Folks seemed to have a good time, and that was the main thing, but I did get to dive deep into the recesses of my random brain and pluck a truly trivial fact out.  This was a random fact I have been storing inside my noggin on the off-chance I might get to show it off one day.  It's not impressive, it's not important, and for most people, probably not that interesting, but it's mine, dammit, and I finally had a place for it tonight.  It was so special I saved it for the last question of the night.  And here it is.  Who is the only actor who appears in Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and the 1989 version of Batman?  No Googling.  Any guesses?  No one at Rojo knew the answer.  It's not something the average person probably thinks about ever.  At all.  Not even once.  It's a piece of knowledge that has no bearing on anything useful, productive, or revolutionary.  I doubt there is a single situation where this fact would be of any use to anyone anywhere at any time.  But it's in my brain.

          The answer is William Hootkins (Who?).  An American character actor who played Red Six (affectionately known as Porkins) in Star Wars, Major Eaton (one of the Army Intelligence officerswho gives Indy his marching orders) in Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Lt. Eckhardt (the fat, corrupt police officer who gets shot by Jack Nicholson right before he becomes the Joker) in Batman.  He one of the those guys who most people have seen before in small roles in big movies, but never give a second thought to.  But those happen to be three movies I have seen dozens (and in the case of Star Wars, hundreds) of times, so after a while those esoteric details kind of crystallize in my brain.  I remember realizing one day that the same guy showed up in all three of those films.  It was like a lightbulb went off in my head.  It made me realize that I know way too much about this sort of stuff.  No offense to Mr. Hootkins, but I have a feeling my knowing this fact about his choice of roles in films probably pushed out an important fact I once learned but had to lose in favor of this piece of fluff filling the space.  I used to know Algebra, Physics, and other science facts.  I used to know the names of Roman rulers and Prussian poets.  Now all I can remember is that William Hootkins played Porkins in Star Wars and gets blown up right after Biggs Darklighter tells him to eject.  Come to think of it,  how do I know that Biggs' last name is Darklighter when it is never once mentioned in the film?  Or that he is played by Garrick Hagon?  See what I mean?  Useless!  Hopefully I will get to host trivia again and I can put some of the rest of this useless information to good use.  And maybe if I start sharing some of it, it will be replaced with better, more useful information.  Like how to defuse a bomb, or save the rainforests, or design a longer lasting lightbulb.  But, considering that I know that the weird guy in Robocop who says "I'll buy that for a dollar" is named Bixby Snyder, I doubt it.