Dispatch from Les #3: Guerrilla Filmmaking, or, Flying By the Seat of My Pants

It is not illegal, it is not unethical, but it is rude, insinuating yourself into a pubic setting with a few actors and a cameraman. Stealing a shot. Tell the waiter it’s a home movie. Have the actor look into the camera and say, “Hi, Grandma!” as you order your meals. Do what you have to do, but get the shot. Just don’t let the owner or his lawyer know about it. Insurance, don’t you know. Get the shot, then let them run you off. How much embarrassment can you endure to make your film? How badly do you want it?

Guerrilla filmmaking is easier in Texas, and particularly in Dallas, where one doesn’t need a permit to film. That’s right, folks, unless the law has changed in the last ten years since I researched it. As long as you don’t obstruct traffic or disturb the peace, you may film away, my friend, until someone runs you off, or until you get the shot (or get shot). Yes, I know, it’s bold, it’s rude, it’s careless, and it’s idiotic. How badly do you want it?

I let everyone on my films know from the get go that a lot of the filming will be “guerrilla filmmaking,” and “we might run out of money on day ten of shooting.” Those are my exact words when recruiting a production team for a film, or soliciting an actor. Can you believe in a project that much, knowing that all could be for naught if you run out of money midway? That you might actually fail? That you’re actually meant to fail, because you are attempting an impossible feat? And we’re not talking about a short film… we’re talking about an original, feature-length, action-drama, soap operatic, ultra, ultra, microscopically low budgeted independent film shot on mini-DV and edited at home on a personal computer. Some people can’t understand that concept… you’re going to do what? Shoot a feature-length, action drama with no budget to speak of? $25,000? Ha! “Ain’t gonna happen, homeboy,” they’ll tell you…. Watch me! Watch my smoke! How badly do you want it?

I ask people to work for points, which I guess these days is a rather desperate, rude and presumptive method of making a movie, a definite faux pas. I had an actor tell me recently, “The days of working for points are over, Les.” I had a lawyer tell me once, “People with no money shouldn’t make movies,” as he lead me out of his office, in a poor display of hiding his disgust. Can you handle it? How badly do you want to make that low-budget film?

As a producer, I once had a director and a 2nd DP refuse to work on day three of shooting, go behind my back telling tales to my executive producer, and force me to cut another deal, and take financial control of my movie. They stole control of my movie right out from under me! They said I “wasn’t prepared” and I was “intimidating.” The day they said I wasn’t prepared, I got them onto Love Field without a permit or security clearance of any kind, I got them a stretch limousine, and access to an airplane hangar and a Lear Jet. They were two hours late that day and it took them three hours to start shooting. I was waiting for five hours! And all they had to shoot was a couple exiting a Lear Jet and a half a page of dialogue! David and Phil could have shot it in 30 minutes, and I could have GTFO and had extra time to prepare for the rest of the day’s filming at the next location where I was desperately needed. This same director and 2nd DP had some kind of magical jib that was going to supposedly make up for their inadequacies and lack of talent. Five hours I was waiting! Oh, and my other great sin as line producer was that I didn’t have a pair of binoculars for a particular scene. I don’t know about you, but if I don’t have a prop that I’m supposed to have, and I’m directing a movie, I’m going to call the line producer and say, “Hey, numb nuts, where’s the @#%&*% binoculars?” I’m not going to take over the producer's movie. But of course, they thought they were saving my movie from my arrogant, hillbilly self. The only positive thing to come out of that experience, was that they got the shot. (Or some of the shots, anyway, half-assed as they might be.) How badly do you want it?

Some people, actors and crew, begin to think the movie is about them instead of the characters. One of the hazards of guerrilla filmmaking: hiring the occasional non-professional (on a non-professional movie, of course), wannabes and amateurs. Some think, “Woo-hoo, I’m in a movie!” or, “I’m working on a movie!” They begin to think that they are the center of the maelstrom that is independent moviemaking. They begin to think that they are the “bee’s nut,” as Hunter S. Thompson would say. They begin to think the movie is about them and their personal life!

Whenever one says, “I’m making a movie,” those are magical words. People’s ears prick up. All of a sudden you become someone important, someone special, a cut above the rest. It has an effect on people. Then the first few days of shooting, you’re all one big, happy family and everyone is so excited… until, say for instance, the actor falls in love with the actress and they begin fighting, or the script supervisor runs off with the DP, or the grip refuses to work with the director, or the prima donna refuses to say the line correctly, because “it’s stupid”…. Welcome to the low-budget producer’s nightmare. Then all of a sudden new priorities other than the movie begin to become manifest, and your movie takes a backseat to bickering, fighting, hurt feelings, miscommunications, vindictiveness, vendettas, musical bed hopping and general disorder. How badly do you want it?

Or the sycophant who wants you to produce his movie, shoot his movie, cast his movie, use your equipment for his movie, because, if a hillbilly like you can do it, why, obviously anyone can! And of course his script is just the greatest thing and is going to set the screenwriter’s world on fire! And of course, you must do it now! He just needs to be discovered, and you’re his ticket to fame! And if your actions don’t live up to his presumed omnipotence and rise to glory, then look out! You better watch your back, my friend, as you shuffle home beaten and exhausted to your baloney sandwich and your Ramen noodles. (As Colonel Trautman said of Rambo's survival skills: “He can eat things that would make a billy goat puke.”) And then sometime around midnight, when you’re so tired your knuckles are dragging the ground, you take the time to charge the camera batteries, unload and take inventory of your props and equipment, and then take all of your change you’ve been collecting in the coffee can in your closet for months to redeem at a Coinstar, so you’ll have production funds for the next day’s shoot that starts at 9 AM, knowing you’ll really need that money for gas and lunch Monday when you go back to your job in the real world. How badly do you want it?

Quentin Tarantino once said, “He with the most point of view, wins.” How much point of view do you have? How much do you believe in yourself and your perceptions of reality? Webster’s defines reality as, “That which exists independent of perception.” How much of your talent is reality, and how much is pure, subjective, solipsistic ego? How much do you believe in your own talent? Just how driven are you to create your art? Just how many push-ups can you do? Just how badly do you want it?