My screenplay, JUNKYARD DOG. The First Ten Pages

The following is the first ten pages of my science fiction screenplay, Junkyard Dog. It's about a baby that is abandoned in a junkyard in Los Angeles and is raised by urban coyotes, and grows up to be a vigilante crime fighter with a souped-up hybrid car made from spare junkyard parts. It did not transfer quite right from Word, but hopefully the gist of it is there.

FADE IN:

EXT. LATIN AMERICAN COUNTRY – SLUMS – NIGHT

ALBERTO GUZMAN, a young laborer wearing work clothes and in his mid-twenties hastily makes his way down the crowded street, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure no one is following him.

INT. CINDER BLOCK SHANTY – NIGHT

Inside the small, one-room, dirt-floor shack, ANGELICA GUZMAN, early twenties, cooks tortillas on an old gas stove. The room is small and cramped, with little more than a table, four chairs, a small shelf with a few groceries and a bed.

On the bed an infant child, JUAN GUZMAN, cries.

Two other children, HECTOR GUZMAN, nine, and HELENA GUZMAN, five, sit on the floor beside the bed, playing.

Alberto enters the room with a look of desperation and speaks to his wife with a note of urgency.

ALBERTO (IN SPANISH)
We must go now, Angelica.

Angelica looks desperately at her husband. She doesn’t want to believe it.

ANGELICA (IN SPANISH)
What happened?

Alberto reaches behind the shelf and removes a paper bag taped to the back. He opens the bag and removes a small stack of dollars.

ALBERTO (IN SPANISH)
They found the union meeting. They know
Where we live.

Angelica is very disappointed in her husband.

ANGELICA (IN SPANISH)
Alberto, why?

Alberto pulls a duffel bag from under the bed.

ALBERTO (IN SPANISH)
(angrily)
Get the children and get ready, now.

ANGELICA
El Norte?

Alberto begins stuffing clothes into the bag.

ALBERTO
Si.

EXT. SLUMS – NIGHT

A beaten up, older model car drives by slowly through the narrow streets.

Inside the car three rough looking characters in civilian clothes, DEATH SQUAD MEMBERS, ride in silence, looking for an address.

On the front seat between the driver and the passenger is an M16 assault rifle.

The Man seated in back of the car clutches an old .32 caliber automatic pistol.

INT. CINDER BLOCK SHANTY – NIGHT

Alberto and Angelica stand by the door, looking at their small home one last time. They both wear small backpacks, and Alberto holds the duffel bag in one hand, and five-year old Helena in his arm.

Angelica cries as she holds the baby who is now quiet and content in his mother’s arms. Nine year-old Hector stands at his mother’s side.

EXT. SLUMS – ALLEY – NIGHT

Alberto and Angelica walk hurriedly through the alleyway, passing winos, prostitutes, gang members and other street people.

Hector struggles to keep up, holding on to his mother’s skirt.

INT. CINDER BLOCK SHANTY – NIGHT

The door is kicked in and the three Death Squad Members rush in, weapons at the ready.

EXT. ALLEY – NIGHT

The Guzman family makes their way through the shadows, carrying their worldly possessions.

EXT. ROADSIDE – DAY

The Guzman family sits under a stand of trees away from the road, where they have spent the night.

Angelica breast-feeds Juan while Alberto, Hector and Helena sit nearby and eat burritos for breakfast.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD – DAY

The Guzman family makes their way down the road, the children lagging behind.

Little Juan cries in his mother arms.

ANGELICA (IN SPANISH)
The baby is sick, Alberto.

EXT. FRUIT STAND – DAY

The Guzman family follows a TRUCK DRIVER behind the fruit stand where a semi tractor-trailer is parked.

Alberto hands the Truck Driver several dollar bills.

The Truck Driver leads the Guzmans to the rear of the trailer.

Inside the trailer many ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS are loaded, waiting to be taken to El Norte.

Little Juan cries as the Guzmans are loaded into the trailer.

INT. TRACTOR TRAILER – DAY

The Guzmans sit in the cramped trailer amongst the other Immigrants who look solemnly as Angelica tries to comfort the crying Juan.

EXT. INTERNATIONAL BORDER CROSSING – DAY

The tractor-trailer waits in a line of traffic to cross the border.

There are long lines of cars waiting to go through the numerous traffic lanes.

BORDER PATROL GUARDS at an adjacent lane search the cars with drug-sniffing dogs.

INT. TRAILER – DAY

Everyone sits quietly with a worrisome look on their faces.

Angelica holds Juan close to her bosom, trying to muffle the sound of his cries.

One of the illegal Immigrants hisses under his breath at her.

IMMIGRANT (IN SPANISH)
Shut that kid up before we all
get caught.

EXT. BORDER CROSSING – DAY

The semi pulls up to the guard booth.

The Truck Driver smiles and waves at the Guard.

The Guard seems to recognize the Driver, and waves him through.

EXT. COLLINS SALVAGE YARD – DAY

A sign out front reads “Collins Salvage Yard - Largest Salvage Yard West of the Pecos.” It is a massive salvage yard, filled with junk cars of every make and model imaginable: old cars, pickup trucks, old rusted school buses, panel trucks of every size and shape.

As far as the eye can see are acres of old automobiles, with dirt roads snaking in between the piles of rusted relics of the past and present. Patches of trees dot the massive acreage. A tall, chain link fence topped with razor wire surrounds the area.

In front of the property is an office with a large parking lot and a gate leading to the salvaged autos.

Behind the office is the Collins family residence. It is a large, two-story, wood framed house. The house itself is a relic of the past, restored and picturesque, with a wrap around front porch and a porch swing.

INT: COLLINS HOME – DEN - DAY

GEORGE COLLINS, a burly man in his early thirties sits at a table going over paperwork. His head is shaved bald, and he sports a large, handlebar moustache. His arms are covered in tattoos, and his biceps look strong enough to crack a walnut in the fold of his arm.

His wife, DORIS COLLINS, a pretty, petite woman a few years younger than her husband, sits in a nearby chair watching over their two year-old daughter, ANNIE COLLINS, who plays with a picture book on the carpet nearby.

George gets up from the table, grabs his car keys, and kisses Doris.

GEORGE
I have go mend the fence, baby,
where the coyotes are getting in.

George picks up Annie and raises her above his head. She smiles and giggles. He kisses her cheek before setting her back down on the carpet.

GEORGE
Got to go, little ‘un. Daddy will
See you later.

INT. TRAILER – DAY

The Illegal Immigrants are drenched in sweat. They sit in anticipation at the end of their long journey.

The door opens wide, letting in sunlight, temporarily blinding the occupants.

EXT. BACKROAD – DAY

The trailer is parked on a little access road by the side of a bridge, on the outskirts of town.

In the distant background are the back acres of the Collins Salvage Yard with its multitude of junk autos.

The Guzman family exits with the rest of the Immigrants, happy to be out in the sunshine and in El Norte.

The Truck Driver is impatient.

TRUCK DRIVER (IN SPANISH)
Hurry up. Hurry, hurry.

EXT. SALVAGE YARD – EVENING

It is just a few hours before dark. The sun is slowly sinking on the horizon. All seems quiet except for an occasional bird chirping in a nearby tree, and the sounds of traffic on a highway nearby.

An old faded and rusted panel truck that used to hawk automotive tools sits under a nearby tree. Its tires are missing and the back door is slightly ajar.

Suddenly a baby cries.

INT. PANEL TRUCK – EVENING

Alberto, Hector and Helena sit in the back of the truck, eating cold flour tortillas and drinking from plastic water bottles.

Angelica tries to soothe the crying Juan. Juan finally stops crying. Angelica turns her sad stare to Alberto.

ANGELICA (IN SPANISH)
Our baby is so sick, Alberto.
I don’t know what is wrong.
How are we going to take care
of him on the road? With no
place to go and no food to eat?

A worried looking Alberto has no answer.

ALBERTO
I don’t know, Angelica.

From outside the panel truck comes the sound of children’s voices.

EXT. SALVAGE YARD – EVENING

A fancy Mercedes Benz bearing a RICH FAMILY drives by slowly. A young BOY and GIRL hang out the windows of the car, gazing at the junk cars.

A RICH MAN and his RICH WIFE ride in the front seat.

The car stops not far from the panel truck.

INT. PANEL TRUCK - EVENING

Alberto and his family peek through the door of the panel truck. Angelica clutches the silent Juan close to her bosom, in hopes he will not cry out.

EXT. SALVAGE YARD – EVENING

The Rich Family gets out of the car. The Rich Man holds a couple of tools and a flashlight in his hands.

RICH MAN
The owner said that Chevy was
right behind these cars.

The kids begin running around, playing.

The Rich Wife calls out to her children.

RICH WIFE
Sidney, Chase, come on now.
We have to go help Daddy get
his car part before it gets
too dark.

INT. PANEL TRUCK – EVENING

Alberto watches through the door of the panel truck as the Rich Family disappear from sight into the mass of junk cars.

Alberto turns to Angelica with a resolute look on his face.

ALBERTO (IN SPANISH)
Give me Juan.

Angelica looks at him puzzled.

ANGELICA (IN SPANISH)
Why?

Alberto takes Juan from her arms and holds him close.

ALBERTO (IN SPANISH)
We can’t provide for this baby,
but that family can.

Angelica realizes what he is about to do.

ANGELICA (IN SPANISH)
Alberto, no!

Little Hector and Helena look up in astonishment at their parents.

Alberto places Juan, wrapped in a blanket and sleeping, in a small cardboard box.
Alberto steps out of the truck with little Juan in the box.

EXT. SALVAGE YARD – EVENING

Alberto creeps up to the car and places the box on the trunk of the Mercedes.

He runs back to the panel truck.

INT. PANEL TRUCK – EVENING

Angelica, Hector and Helena sob together as Alberto enters the panel truck and begins gathering their belongings.

ALBERTO (IN SPANISH)
Get your things, we must go.

Hector, tears streaming, looks up at his father sobbing.

HECTOR (IN SPANISH)
Papa, don’t give them Juan Diego.

Alberto chokes back tears.

ALBERTO (IN SPANISH)
He’ll have a better life, mijo.

EXT. CREEK BED – EVENING

Alberto, Angelica, Hector and Helena walk through a creek bed.

Angelica looks back toward the salvage yard, tears streaming down her face. Her children sob as they walk beside her.

Alberto looks at his family beside him as the sun goes down in the distance. He too can no longer hold back the tears.

EXT. SALVAGE YARD – NIGHT

It is dark and poor little Juan Diego sleeps peacefully in the cardboard box atop the trunk of the Mercedes.
A flashlight in the distance reveals the Rich Family making their way back to the car. They have stayed longer than they intended.

The Rich Man holds the flashlight, tools and an automotive part wrapped in oil rags as they approach the car.

RICH MAN
Watch your step.

They all climb into the car, not noticing the box on the trunk.

The Rich Man starts the engine, puts the car in gear, and drives off, causing the cardboard box to tumble into the dirt, where it tips over and Juan Diego spills out, crying.

The Mercedes disappears down the dirt road.

EXT. UNDER A BRIDGE – NIGHT

Alberto, Angelica, Hector and Helena settle in for the night under the bridge.

They eat tortillas as they sit in silence. Alberto finally breaks the silence.

ALBERTO (IN SPANISH)
We should be happy for Juan Diego.
He will have opportunities we
could never give him. Maybe
someday we’ll see him again.

EXT. SALVAGE YARD – NIGHT

It is pitch dark as little Juan cries into the night, and there is no one to hear him in the silent, vast junkyard.

Suddenly a MAMA COYOTE appears from behind a junked car.

She hears the crying and sees Juan lying in the dirt beside the cardboard box.

She raises her nose and sniffs the air for intruders.

Having My Baby Wins Most Ambitious Film Award, or, Four Years of Snowballing Karma

The Blog lives on. We’re on a roll. Having My Baby won the award for Most Ambitious Film at the Columbia Gorge International Film Festival (formerly known as the Washougal International Film Festival) in Vancouver, Washington. Many thanks to the lovely and talented festival founder and director, Breven Angaelica Warren, and her trusted sidekick, Festival Captain, Wes Parker. They treated us very kindly during our stay in their fair city, and we really appreciate it.

Most Ambitious Film, Having My Baby. It has a nice little ring to it. I like it. I suppose I should get an award for Most Megalomaniacal Director, truth be known. I can proudly says, “It’s over, Johnny.” Having My Baby is a tangible commodity. So, I’m living proof you can make an award-winning, feature-length, action-drama film for $80,000 while simultaneously working 40-hour weeks for The Man. However, such sleep deprivation, physical hardship, mental anguish and gravity of will is not recommended for one’s health. It turns you into a “mean man.” Someone who is driven. Someone who will not take “no” for an answer. Like the Terminator, “It will not die!” “Ugh, must make movie, get out of way.” One friend in a polite way told me I was just stupid enough to think I could do it, and ended up doing it. After four years of seat-of-the-pants filmmaking making Having My Baby, I would have to say, I agree.

In the end, I’m proud of Having My Baby. It’s a cool little flick if the story interests you. One thing that has puzzled me however, is that people think Having My Baby is a Christian movie, however, I contend, it only has a fundamentalist Christian character. Sophie is proudly agnostic. As the creator of Blaine and Sophie, I never chose between them or took a side. As the omnipotent creator/writer, I must be totally neutral so that the audience may choose for themselves. Just the facts, ma’am. Having My Baby is an action-drama, human interest, love story. I guess. What do I know? The squares love it. The civilians love it. I love it, though some of it does still make me cringe. Too much karma still. Four years of snowballing karma wasn’t vanquished in a day.

Watching Hud with My Dad

My pop died of emphysema several years ago, and I've always wished I'd had more time to visit with him. He wasn't around much when I was a youngster. My mom always said, "Your daddy worked hard, but he also played hard." And if you'll pardon my language, my dad was a cross between Archie Bunker and Brando's description of his father in Last Tango in Paris: "He was a super masculine, whore fucker, bar fighter."

My dad was from Tennessee. His name was Hugh L., and the L. was only an initial and didn't stand for anything. Having a middle initial as a substitute for an actual name was evidently a custom in the hills of Tennessee where my dad grew up in the 1930's. There is a common joke there that the people are so poor they can't even afford a full name, and could only afford a middle initial. My dad eventually told everyone the L. stood for Larry, just to get them to shut up about it, I guess. Larry is what my mom called him until his dying day.

My dad was a kind, compassionate man, but he had a rough exterior and was an unrepentant womanizer. Growing up in Chicago in the 1960's, on the very few, rare occasions my dad was home and not working or playing, I was actually able to watch TV with my dad. We couldn't watch any comedies. If I turned it to Get Smart or Hogan's Heroes, he'd say, "Get that shit off there." So I'd have to turn it to Gunsmoke, The Rifleman or Wanted Dead or Alive. Testosterone city. Needless to say I was a bit deficient in the sense of humor department as a child and later in life. What my Dad did like was: he liked beer, he liked women, he liked baseball and he liked country food; food like biscuits and gravy, and wilted mustard greens soaked in bacon bits and hot grease. Cracklings, even, whatever the heck that is. And he liked a good western, too.

The only time he really busted my ass when I was a kid was when I took too long to water the pigs during the heat of the day in the burning hell of a Texas summer, and when I went swimming in a stock tank without permission near a place called Hippie Ridge in Wise County, Texas. But he was always busting my balls about something later in life, in my early twenties especially, when I was a shiftless, lazy, college dropout, Rimbaud wannabe. But, short story long, when I knew the old fucker only had a few years left to live, I loaded the car up with VHS movie cassettes and drove up to Roane County, Tennessee to see him. I tried to take a variety of movies for him to see. Some movies I took I knew he would like, like the Clint Eastwood western, The Unforgiven. (I always get choked up at the end when those prostitutes come out in the rain to see Clint Eastwood ride out of town.) And some movies I took just to mess with his head, like Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me. When the little dwarf in the red room sucks up the corn from a silver spoon in an extreme closeup while the soundtrack plays in reverse, that's about the time my dad said, "Sheeeit, son, get that shit off there." Leave it to David Lynch to blow my dad's mind. That's about the time I hit the eject button and I popped in Hud.

I knew my dad would probably get a stiffy watching Hud, because he was Hud, in so many ways. Ruggedly handsome like Newman, with chiseled features and a confident swagger. I never once heard my dad laugh in his life... seriously... never! I heard him chuckle once or twice, either watching a John Wayne movie or some other western movie that had a brief moment of comedy between scenes of killing dark-skinned people. But, by golly, he sure liked watching Hud! Hud, the drunken, womanizing cowboy. He came pretty darn close to laughing a time or two, especially when Hud was extricating himself from the clutches of a jealous husband. My dad told me of a few such close calls in his life. When my dad was sober he wouldn't have two words to say, but when he was drinking, he was a hillbilly raconteur who would get on a drunken binge and couldn't shut up. I'll withhold some of the scandalous details since there might be women and children about. I think you get the picture.

Hud was adapted from the Larry McMurtry novel, Horseman, Pass By. Hud's younger brother is played by Brandon de Wilde, the kid from Shane as a young man. Larry McMurtry is a life long native of the Wichita Falls area, where my mom and dad and our family lived a time or two. There are some good chapters on the making of Hud in Larry McMurty's book, In a Narrow Grave: Essays on Texas. Released in 1962, Hud is a great movie and a great nostalgia trip for anyone who grew up in Texas. Academy awards went to Patricia Neal and Melvyn Douglas, and to James Wong Howe for his brilliant cinematography.

I was glad my dad and I got the chance to watch Hud together one of the last times I saw him. It was one of the very few times we ever bonded, as they say. If you could call it that. That's when my dad told me that I was named after a character from the Zane Grey western novel, The Lone Star Ranger, and General Leslie Groves of the Manhattan Project. My mom, who eventually divorced him, had always told me I was named after some of my dad's Air Force buddies. I know my dad wasn't much of a role model, but he was my dad. We don't get to pick them. It's like the genetic lottery. I guess I could have done a lot worse. He was a good man most of the time, except when it came to married women and booze. He never was there for me as a kid, but he always put food on the table. Now I suppose he's up on that great big barstool in the sky.

HAVING MY BABY Now Available on DVD

You can now purchase HAVING MY BABY on DVD. Almost five long years after I began producing HAVING MY BABY, I can finally see the fruit of my labors. Many thanks to all who made it possible.

http://www.havingmybabymovie.com/Store.asp

He Liked His Beer, He Liked His Pot and He Liked His Acid

He liked his beer, he liked his pot and he liked his acid. “Oh, hell yeah, are you kidding, in my college days, I absolutely enjoyed acid,” he says. “I was a trippy guy already, and roaming around the universe of your brain at light speed – that’s a lot of fun. But ultimately I don’t think it’s very creative, because it’s not like you can create while you’re tripping. You can’t do shit.”
James Cameron
Rolling Stone Magazine
December 2009
Profile by Erik Hedegaard

So now we know... the director of the highest grossing movie of all time (Titanic) tripped on acid in his college years, per Rolling Stone. Who'd a thunk it? Of course, most kids were tripping on acid those days. The article also stated he "...has never shot a Hollywood movie that did not make money, spending more than $500 million in the process but returning a gross of $3 billion...." Wow, pretty good for a geeky acidhead.

I don't know about you folks, but I'm really looking forward to seeing Avatar, sans acid, of course - I'll just have to settle for 3-D. Usually a PG-13 rating is a turnoff for me (I prefer a strong R rating), but I'll give this one a chance just to see the new innovations and to see what $230 million dollars can do.

The article in Rolling Stone also mentions that while filming The Abyss, Cameron "...ran his production in such a way that Ed Harris burst into tears," and that "On one shoot, crew members wore T-shirts that said YOU EITHER SHOOT IT MY WAY OR YOU DO ANOTHER FUCKING MOVIE."

There is an old saying, "In order to make an omelette, you have to break some eggs." It sounds like if you work for James Cameron, you better bring your A-game, and have very thick skin.

The profile on James Cameron in this month's Rolling Stone is a good one. I recommend it. Rolling Stone is a great magazine, and revered text in my household.

Loglines, Snickers Bars & Insomnia

Wow, what am I doing up at 12:51 AM on a Monday morning? Thinking about movies and munchies. I just raided my emergency backpack with three days worth of survival supplies and hobo gear stuffed inside. I've almost eaten a 11.50 oz. bag of mini-Snickers bars by myself! I have no shame! (Yes, didn't you know... Snickers candy bars are survival food.) Oh well, I needed to cycle the food anyway, and I don't expect the apocalypse to happen anytime soon. So, how about some loglines? Some synopses? Just don't steal my chit, man!

Joey & Jeffie - A romantic crime drama based on the life of NY mobster Joey (Crazy Joe) Gallo, as seen through the eyes of his Creole, showgirl wife, Jeffie Lee. Adapted from the biography, Joey, by former NY Times editor, Donald Goddard.

Having My Baby - An action drama about a fundamentalist Christian who kidnaps an agnostic law student from the abortion clinic parking lot and takes her to the mountains to force her to have his baby as they are pursued by the FBI and National Guard. (Film premiered August 2009 in Dallas. See www.havingmybabymovie.com.)

Blood is Thicker - An action drama about a young man who inherits some land in a small Texas town that is being terrorized by a corrupt sheriff and drug dealing white supremacists.

Dead or in Huntsville - A biker soap opera about an ex-biker who marries a yuppie and tries to go straight. His plans go astray when an old biker buddy shows up needing a place to crash. (Days of Our Lives meets Hell’s Angels on Wheels.)

Junkyard Dog - A near future, science fiction, noirish story about a baby that is abandoned in a Los Angeles junkyard by illegal immigrants and is raised by urban coyotes. The baby grows up to become a vigilante crime fighter with a souped-up hybrid car, who is bent on rubbing out all the Los Angeles criminals and corrupt politicians.

Hillbilly Karma - Hillbillies and hallucinogens, rednecks and raunch... a young aspiring writer in rural Texas tries to escape the birth/death wheel of samsara and the karma of his family dysfunction.

Warboots - A young poet finds himself sharing living quarters with a Vietnam veteran with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and a paranoid schizophrenic rock and roll guitarist who thinks he lives on Mars.

That's it... I've got more where that came from. Oodles and oodles of story concepts and loglines. Brimming with ideas. Jonesing to write another script. Chomping at the bit... reeling out cliches like a hack writer on nose candy. Nothing can stop me now! Yawn....

Don't Shoot Me, I'm Only the Movie Producer

I have a story concept for an over-the-top exploitation film. I have a friend with around 300 acres in the boonies of Parker County, Texas I could film on. I was going to have my art director build a small village with grass huts, etc., and have a bunch of topless Mexican chicks in grass skirts and a bunch of Mexican vatos in loin clothes portraying cannibalistic natives.

The story line is a film crew arrives in the jungles of a fictional South American country to begin filming a soft-core porno movie in the jungles. They get lost in the jungle and attacked by a cannibalistic tribe and have to outwit them and escape from them. The movie will have lots of bullets and lots of babes. The director is a dictatorial asshole. The female star is a preening primadonna. The male star is a handsome, ex-Marine who drinks a fifth of vodka a day and is going to seed. The production assistant is an innocent farm girl from Kansas. The star's bodyguard is a bone-crunching, karate slinging bull dyke to die for. Throw in some missing shipments of gold, some drug lords, federales, rebel armies, rich gringos from Hollywood hiring ninjas dropping out of trees.

Shoot it all guerrilla style, with digital equipment, natural lights, limited makeup, baloney sandwiches and daily stipends and/or points, all pp shot within a two week period with one day off in between. Balls to the wall, seat of the pants, do or die, fuck all, shoestring budget.

Any takers?

[I got the idea for this after watching the 70's German independent film, Man From Deep River.]

Back in the Saddle

I've been trying to get back into the groove to write more about Dilligaf Productions. I've been very busy moving Movie Central to our new location in Springtown, Texas, now known as Movie Central West. We all hated to see our location change due to monetary problems.

Our last location in Dallas was where it all happened... the bunkhouse, the beer binges, the steel balls, the shouted obscenities, the loose women, the working girls, the 99 cent frozen pizzas, the 3 for a dollar frozen burritos, the Bugler brand, hand-rolled cigarettes, the all-nighters, Mako shoveling coal in the engine room, the unmentionables, and the the 700 movie DVD and VHS archives to choose from when anyone cared to watch a movie instead of make, film or edit one... they will all be missed!

Now it's onward, wagons ho and don't look back. Coming soon... the biker flick, Dead or in Huntsville! More to come!

Dispatch from Les # 7: The Movie Premiere is a Success

We finally had our premiere. I haven't had much time to write this web log and do it justice. Perhaps I will find more time in the future since we had a successful premiere of Having My Baby July 9 at The Studio Movie Grill on Royal Lane in Dallas. We had a great attendance rate at just under two hundred people. Many thanks to all of you who came and supported us.

Many people congratulated me right afterwards and said they loved the movie, and I could tell they were being sincere. The movie also got a lot of laughs where one might not expect them. The audience was hooked from the very beginning due to the rapid pace of the story unfolding, and due to the interest in the characters Blaine and Sophie's unusual romance. And the story line is very original: A young man kidnaps a young woman from an abortion clinic to prevent her from aborting his baby. No one ever came up with that one before. Originality really counts for a lot in this industry.

The demographic of people who seem to like this movie the most are elderly Christian women. They just gush over it, which makes me very happy. I have only had two people out of approximately a thousand say that they found the movie (or script) to be offensive because: 1. It glorifies violence and kidnapping. 2. It portrays Blaine as a Christian but his actions are not Christianlike. I think they miss the point, and possibly miss the bus. First and foremost, Having My Baby is a love story.

Those of us among the cast and crew were very happy the night of the premiere. I think the movie was better than people expected. We had some minor sound issues, and the sound was turned up a wee bit too loud, but we have since fixed those problems and have been submitting the film to festivals in hopes of winning some prizes and garnering some notice from the film community. To create a watchable, 2-hour, feature length, action drama for around $80,000 is really quite phenomenal. That feat in and of itself is really half the story. Sam and David and I have a lot to be proud of, in that after four years we never gave up; and we were always able to settle our differences amicably, and remain friends, and put the movie first over self interest. It was not easy!

We are on IMDb now, too. We are official! I began pre-production on this movie in August 2005, and our premiere was July 9, 2009. That was four long years, never knowing if we could finish it. But we did and we are very proud. We have one more free screening in Fort Worth on August 27 (see http://www.havingmybabymovie.com/) and then we can rest a little easier and get our lives back. Our only real chore after that will be to submit it to festivals and sell some DVD's online.

I may then shoot an over the top, R-rated biker flick called Dead or in Huntsville which I wrote back in 1993 and produced for the stage in Deep Ellum, and have since adapted into a screenplay. But I will definitely have to raise the money first - no more guerrilla filmmaking with a near zero daily budget for me. I'd rather not put myself and my crew, friends and family through that again. "The horror... the horror!"

Viva la original, truly independent films! Viva la Dilligaf Productions!

Dispatch from Les #6 - What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

We're back! We're back, we're bad, we're in business. We have an excellent new trailer maestro David Dixon has put together. We have our fledgling new website, thanks to actor, star and computer guru, Stephen Brodie, and we're doing an AV test very soon on the big screen, thanks to executive producer and head honcho, Samuel H. Roden, III.

I'm putting together a press kit and soon to be released press release to inform the public and elucidate the masses concerning our little indie Texas gem, Having My Baby, and will hopefully, after four years of persistence, have our premiere in July: "If the 'Lord' is willing and the creek don't rise." Yes, our little action drama, soap opera, tear jerker of a movie has arrived. I know that after four years since preproduction (August 2005) and three years since beginning principal photography (September 2006) that some of you are like... yawn. What movie...? GTFOOH. Life moves on....

But we're back! Dilligaf Productions is back! We come back like a ghost in a dream that you can't shake. We're like that bad penny that keeps showing up on your doorstep. We're like the house guest that won't leave. We must be the center of attention! We demand it! Get hip, people!

I'm "betting the farm" that interest will pick up as more and more people see our little $80,000 wonder. The famous French filmmaker, Jean Luc Godard famously said, "All you need to make a movie is a girl and a gun." Just remember, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, that Having My Baby is just a love story about two people named Blaine and Sophie; nothing more, and nothing less. A girl... a gun... a Bible... and a baby.

Dispatch from Les #5 - "You Wanna See Helicopters?"

Yes, we are still here. Life and the 40-hour work week go on in the real world. The editing continues in the movie world. (On weekends, that is.) The mind numbing attention to detail and constant search for that best combination of scenes that is editing. Most scenes shot at a 3 to 1 shooting ratio, if we were lucky. Viewing the same scenes over and over for three years is like water torture. It's like eating chocolate cake until you puke. Whew! But we are so close! We're at the finish line! Still planning on that March 2009 premiere for Having My Baby, fingers crossed! The media blitz will start soon. Look for us on the telly, as our British friend would say, as we countdown our fifteen minutes of fame.

What kind of movie takes 3 1/2 years to complete? What were you doing on Labor Day? Editing. What were you doing on Thanksgiving? Editing. What were you doing on Christmas Eve? Editing. (Eraserhead supposedly took David Lynch five years to shoot. The torture that man must have gone through. Five years of anticipation to see a completed project. Some people call Eraserhead unwatchable... some call it genius... an audience is a fickle thing. I fall in the latter camp and call it wholly original.)

"You wanna see helicopters?" I got the helicopter shots just hanging around Addison Airport for a couple of Saturdays. Inserted those shots where needed, and voila! Used the helicopter sounds to sell other lean scenes in the woods... indie movies at bargain basement prices! Life is good. Guerrilla filmmaking is a blast! And it looks good! And sounds good! Gotta love the Canon XL-1. It's a workhorse. Probably almost obsolete by now, but hey, it works. The medium is not the message in cinema, the story is. All you pretentious filmmaker wannabes and poseurs clucking from the sidelines like matrons in some sewing circle can't see the forest for the trees. Show me your movies. Oh, you've not made any.... Our little movie is looking good, Holmes. Dilligaf has mucho cajones. (Translated: Big drawers.)

Long story short, we're not giving up. We have survived scenarios in movie making that would make Oliver Stone blush. (Incidentally, we love Oliver Stone at Dilligaf Productions, so back off, Phil.) We don't give up at Dilligaf. You can knock us down and we get back up. We keep pushing. We're like wounded soldiers moving through the bush, pushing to make it to the chopper so we can some day see our loved ones again. Keep pushing... keep pushing... keep pushing....

Walking my three miles every other day... doing my chin-ups every morning... meditating during the week when I can... eating my veggies... drinking my green tea and red wine... haven't had a cigarette in three months... pushing fifty... a vain, cranky old man who wants a cigarette... pushing past that donut aisle... pushing, pushing pushing! March 2009: be there.

Dispatch from Les #4 - Do You Want Some Cheese With That Whine?

I'm not complaining, folks. I set myself up for the struggle. I wanted this punishment. I don't want this blog to sound bitter. I'm excited! I feel like the coolest mofo in town. I just don't want to count my chickens before they cross the road, if you know what I mean. (You know why the chicken crossed the road, don't you? To see a man lay bricks.)

One great bit of fortune here at Dilligaf Productions is that we got so lucky casting Having My Baby. There are a lot of talented actors working and auditioning in Dallas, and we were lucky to get so many. Such kind, gracious, wonderful people. Beautiful people. I am deeply indebted to and very proud of all the actors involved in making Having My Baby a reality.

To those of you who got there late for the pizza, I'm sorry. To the actor left bleeding in the creek without a Band-Aid, I'm sorry. To the dear friend with the twisted ankle, I'm sorry. To the set designer with the hijacked back yard, I'm sorry. To all the numerous people who got poison ivy, I'm sorry. To the actor who had to blow into a breathalyzer to operate the vehicle as she drove and said her lines, because that was the only car we could get for that scene, I'm sorry. To the actor who got anthrax in the mail, I'm sorry. (Just kidding.) And to the actor who was persecuted by The Man, I'm sorry. To all the actors who tired of chips and sandwiches (and Wheat Thins, granola bars, cheese sticks and Fruit Rollups), I'm so very sorry.

To the actors who worked for points... thank you. Don't count them out yet in this economy. I just know we're going to be a big hit in Borneo. To the actors who worked for money... thank you. You were worth every penny and more. I'm just sorry I didn't have more. And to those of you who felt cheated, I'm sorry. And to those of you who donated your time, your resources and your money, a great big thank you. You shall forever be in the pantheon of the people I hold dear. And to my evanescent crew of misfits (a term of endearment to me), I thank you. You too shall get credit when the credits roll.

At the risk of sounding megalomaniacal, I really think we have accomplished something huge in the annals of low-budget indies. Our chances of a cult favorite are a million to one, but I'll gladly take those odds. Better odds than the lottery, mon ami. One thing that can be said of Having My Baby, is that the script has universal appeal. The logline can be understood in any language. Yes, even in the jungles of Borneo, they would understand the storyline of Having My Baby. You think I jest.

New York Times movie critic Matt Zoller Seitz called Having My Baby "a classic" after reading the spec script. Having My Baby poured out of me over a few weekends, as if my muse had turned on a faucet. When I passed around the spec script to an assortment of people, most women who had read it told me it made them cry. When big, burly, scarred roughnecks read it and said they got choked up, I knew I had something. I'm talking about guys who can crack a walnut in the fold of their arm, crying like babies. Guys big enough to eat apples off your head, fighting tears. And Having My Baby never slows down long enough for you to get bored. You won't even have time to notice that tripod leg in the frame. (Just kidding!)

A weird twist of fate has willed this movie into being, like memes taking over time and space and nourishing an anemic little movie into an organic dreamscape worthy of the movie gods. Egads, I sound a bit full of myself as I mix my metaphors. No Hegelian dialectics here, friend, just pure poetry of a movie; beautiful actors, beautiful Texas exteriors, southern style, abortion agonized, religion tinged, testosterone and pheremone fueled, action drama, baby! Get the popcorn ready, Mabel.

Les' First Hate Mail

Les,

I just want you to know that because you changed your mind the day before the shoot, leaving me no time to get another camera, my film is now dead. My villain is out of town until September, and my protagonist is not available after August, and won't let me replace the villain. So, even if I buy/rent another one now, it won't do me any good because I've lost my two most important actors. And it's your fault.

And why? Because I protested the fact that you were being simply unreasonable, and reminded you that your attitude wasn't as justified as it seemed to you because I've given so much to your projects in the past. Sure, you were doing me a favor; but it's not like I've never done you one, so it doesn't give you the right to be an asshole. But you don't care about things like that, do you? No, of course not, because you're a low person, lacking in character, who's never going to amount to shit. Deep down you know it's true, don't you? Sure you do. Ingratitude is an ugly quality, Les, and you possess it in abundance.

You may now add me to the long list of people who despise you. And if I ever get the chance to get you back for this, I will; and without remorse. Life is long, Les; and I'm going to go farther in this industy than you, not only because I'm far more talented, but also because I'm willing to move to L.A. and I'm not a paranoid, mentally unstable, disloyal...person like you. I will probably get my chance, eventually, and you'll remember this, then. Personally, I can't wait to teach you a lesson.

[August 2008, Name Withheld]

National Guard characters in Having My Baby

National Guardsmen search the woods looking for kidnapper Blaine Carson.

Darrell Hughes and Wayne Donaldson as the National Guardsmen.