2008 Woodie Awards
Reel Deal: From directing to critiquing films
A brief career in making movies soon became a career of being a critic
Alex Plimack
Arts | 4/24/08
I've always wanted to make a movie.
In fact, I had a minor career going when I was younger.
My brother and I were the writers, producers, actors and directors of what we called "Cheesy Movies." It was our series of non-sequitur vignettes that were either chapters in a bigger story (an ongoing war between a good leprechaun and a bad leprechaun) or humorous clips (my brother dressed in all white running around the house as a sperm looking for an egg which he eventually found in the refrigerator).
Admittedly, the production value was poor, but we were fully aware of it and embraced it for the humor. For example, we wanted our own "Matrix" scene, so we tied an action figure from the ceiling fan and spun the camera around it while the "Mission: Impossible" theme played from the stereo in the room.
Our impressive resume ceased to exist when one day the tape on which we had recorded these Oscar-worthy films suddenly malfunctioned and it was archived in the trashcan. The camera soon followed and we were without means for our creative output.
But as I got older, my want to make my own movie increased. I was inspired by stories I read about Kevin Smith. Smith was a convenience store clerk, wrote a script and filmed a movie for $300,000 that eventually led to a successful directing career.
I wanted to do that.
I wanted to be able to write the clever script.
I wanted to make a movie with my friends that everyone would love.
But every time I would sit down with pen in hand (or hands at keyboard) to craft the script that would make me rich and famous, my brain would run dry. I realized that I had no grasp on what it took to craft a story that would work on film. And even if I did, how would I even film it? Would my friends really want to act in it? The vicious cycle transpired through high school, because if you went to my high school, you would actually think you were in a movie. And I wanted the world to see that as well, but I had to accept the fact that I probably wouldn't be the one to show it to them.
In fact, I had a minor career going when I was younger.
My brother and I were the writers, producers, actors and directors of what we called "Cheesy Movies." It was our series of non-sequitur vignettes that were either chapters in a bigger story (an ongoing war between a good leprechaun and a bad leprechaun) or humorous clips (my brother dressed in all white running around the house as a sperm looking for an egg which he eventually found in the refrigerator).
Admittedly, the production value was poor, but we were fully aware of it and embraced it for the humor. For example, we wanted our own "Matrix" scene, so we tied an action figure from the ceiling fan and spun the camera around it while the "Mission: Impossible" theme played from the stereo in the room.
Our impressive resume ceased to exist when one day the tape on which we had recorded these Oscar-worthy films suddenly malfunctioned and it was archived in the trashcan. The camera soon followed and we were without means for our creative output.
But as I got older, my want to make my own movie increased. I was inspired by stories I read about Kevin Smith. Smith was a convenience store clerk, wrote a script and filmed a movie for $300,000 that eventually led to a successful directing career.
I wanted to do that.
I wanted to be able to write the clever script.
I wanted to make a movie with my friends that everyone would love.
But every time I would sit down with pen in hand (or hands at keyboard) to craft the script that would make me rich and famous, my brain would run dry. I realized that I had no grasp on what it took to craft a story that would work on film. And even if I did, how would I even film it? Would my friends really want to act in it? The vicious cycle transpired through high school, because if you went to my high school, you would actually think you were in a movie. And I wanted the world to see that as well, but I had to accept the fact that I probably wouldn't be the one to show it to them.
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