Official "The Kiss" Poster finally revealed!

Derek Dubois - On Whimsy

Currently, I am in the middle of shooting a new short film entitled "The Kiss."  In it, a young film studies student develops a crush on her professor, casting him in her student-film as the love interest in an attempt to generate sparks in real life.  I guess you can say that this is the whimsical, fictional version of my "Hot for Teacher" documentary.  And though there is surely much to be mined from the idea of my subconscious running with these ideas...I am currently much more entangled with the adjective I've been using to describe the film: whimsical.

From the very beginning I knew I wanted to make my own version of "Amelie."  Not a narrative ripoff, per se, but a short film that captures the tone of Jeunet's modern classic.  There aren't many films that exist which generate these feelings of whimsy.  Others integral to this project: "Punchdrunk Love" and "The Science of Sleep."

But what is whimsy?  This is what I continue to loop around to.  Unfortunately, after months of contemplation, I still have nothing more to offer than the supreme court judge's obscenity ruling: "I know it when I see it!"  I just cannot box whimsy into words.  Surely whimsy finds its lineage in comedy but is it truly a genre unto itself?  What are the shared characteristics between the aforementioned films and Chaplin roller skating on the precipice of almost certain death in "Modern Times?" Or the house falling down around Buster Keaton in "One Week?"

In Roger Ebert's review of Wes Anderson's "The Life Aquatic" he states that the film "suffers from terminal whimsy."  I must disagree with Ebert.  I adore "The Life Aquatic" and while the film certainly oozes with whimsy (as the rest of Anderson's oeuvre does) I don't believe this is a detriment to it but rather its saving grace.

I am now 1/3 of the way through shooting "The Kiss" and the script is constantly being revised as we shoot in order to slim it down and pick up the pace.  The only notions I have to go on are "What Would Amelie Do?" I guess the ultimate trait for whimsy is to have a narrative in which the stakes of the protagonist's journey aren't too severe.  But in order to compensate for this the characters themselves must be god damn electric.

I sincerely hope "The Kiss" reaches these aspirations.  I hope the narrative arc serves as an entertaining journey.  I hope that the character of Olivia Adams melts your heart while splintering your funny bone.  I hope that the exercises in style we've methodically considered aren't empty but kinetic and substantial.

In the meantime, if I ever lock down a definition for whimsy I'll be sure to post it here.

The Paradox of "Making It"

It doesn't take a Media Studies degree to realize that we're living in a culture of hyperstimulation.  This word, borrowed liberally from historian Ben Singer who used it to describe the barrage of stimuli that arose with technological expansion at the dawn of the twentieth century, applies even more so to the current new media landscape.  However, the promise of technology is simultaneously both a blessing and a curse for artists trying to emerge into the Art World.  To plant their flags in earnestness.  To "make it."

The notion of "making it" was seeded fairly early in my brain.  It all began with music; when I received a guitar at the age of 12 and my teenage years were spent desperately trying to be Noel Gallagher from Oasis (minus the massive blow habit).  I had the Epiphone guitar, the Adidas Samba sneakers, and when I sang (others will tell you) there was the hint of a Manchester accent in there.  I craved the role of the intelligent songwriter: the backbone of creativity rather than the rock and roll swagger of brother Liam.  That immersion into Brit-Pop finally led me to Radiohead.  Through Radiohead I observed that an artist could have it all: killer songwriting abilities / artistic credibility / on stage chemistry / a book club...while critics all but permanently stitched their lips to your asshole.

Music eventually gave way in my college years to film and filmmaking and this paradigm actually has a word that describes what I had been questing after my entire teenage life: auteur.  Hitchcock, Scorsese, Kurosawa, Kubrick, P.T. Anderson: their films are synonymous with their names; inseparable even.  Films, though entirely collaborative, are essentially little golden eggs laid by these artists - or so that is the impression we take away from them.

I've been making small digital films for a few years now.  They started off god-awful but I firmly believe that each and every effort is an improvement over the last.  This is on all levels: screenwriting, cinematography, editing, visual effects, acting, etc.  Note that the end-credit sequences of each film have gotten longer and longer.  It was beaten into me in an Introductory Psychology class that "correlation does not imply causation" but here it absolutely does.  These films are not only improving because I'm maturing within the art form but because I'm surrounding myself with like-minded individuals and together the final product is infinitely stronger than had I gone it alone.  Through my attempts at becoming an auteur, I have learned how impossible the idea ever was.

Screenwriting is ultimately how I hope to break into the business.  Unfortunately there is a catch-22 with "making it."  That is, it takes an agent to sell your screenplay but you cannot get an agent without having sold a screenplay.  There are always exceptions of course but hundreds and hundreds of query letters will eventually yield hundreds and hundreds of rejections: "PASS," "NOT TAKING NEW CLIENTS AT THIS TIME", "YOUR WORK DOESN'T MEET OUR CURRENT NEEDS."  It's enough to drive even the most determined insane.

And so in between screenwriting attempts I'll continue to make short films with the hopes that the film will hit just the right person at the right place at the right time.  But even this is impossible.  Why?  Because, as I wrote at the beginning - this is a culture of hyperstimulation.  Everyone has access to digital cameras and editing software.  Everyone can self-publish their book of short stories.  Everyone can learn how to write screenplays online.  The same opportunities that have allowed me the tools to make films also allows access to anyone else in the world.  How many other filmmakers posted films to Youtube today?  Frankly there is an ephemeral sea of media out there and I am but a drop of water.  Bite sized files of ones and zeros clog the pathways.  It is virtually impossible to rise above the muck. 

But this does not depress me.  How can it?  Through working with others I've found a collaborative of wonderful people who quest for and share the same desires that I have.  It doesn't matter if my films reach the west-coast, net deals, inspire millions: as long as they continue to make me happy there is a purpose to it all.  And on that saccharine note I'll beg of you:

Watch my movies!    ;)

Selling a Screenplay

So I've recently been infected with the desire to sell a screenplay.  When I started screenwriting seriously several years ago through the Film Studies program at RIC, I had written a few feature lengths (all admittedly terrible) and tried with my amateur naivete to conquer the world.  Alas, that dream never came into fruition.

Therefore, in order to better hone my skills,  I've spent the last number of years writing short screenplays to self-produce.  Films such as Contours, Videotape, Curiosity Delay, and The Kiss (currently in production) are all examples of shorts I wrote with the desire of self-producing.

But as of last month I've decided that I really want to get back on that horse.  I'm currently writing a feature-length script entitled Oldtown.  I've got my copies of the Hollywood Creative Directory and the Hollywood Representation Directory and I feel ready to play writer, manager, and used-car salesmen as I construct queries, pitches, and try my darndest to market this thing.

I've recently been reading posts on the wonderful blog http://www.sellingyourscreenplay.com/ which is run by screenwriter Ashley Meyers and who gives fantastic advice about the Do's and Don't's of trying to sell your screenplay.

Realistically do I think Oldtown will sell?  The answer is: I have no idea.  Though I'm very proud of Oldtown - and it's easily the best work I've produced to date - the script is a fairly low-concept character driven piece and these low-concept scripts are harder to push than high-concept hooks.  So we'll see.

For now, I'll leave you with the logline I've been pitching:

Ian Graham, a disillusioned rock star, quits his band before signing with a major label and returns to the hometown he fled as a teenager.  Complications arise when his father, ex-girlfriend, and an eccentric bluegrass musician begin to confront his values of love and music.