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Fast-forward filmmaking

By Josh Kegley jkegley@herald-leader.com

LOUISVILLE — It's 6:17 p.m. on July 18, and about 100 eager filmmakers, bustling with excitement and hyped on coffee and energy drinks, are packed in a small room. They know that sleep will be a valuable commodity this weekend.

They've assembled at 21c Museum Hotel for the opening ceremony of the 48-Hour Film Project, an international competition held in more than 70 cities in which each team of amateur filmmakers completes a short film in two days. That includes writing the script, filming the scenes, scoring the movie, editing it and turning it in. Anyone with a camera and $125 to $155 for registration can join in the hectic fun.

Kyle Miller, 23, who is from Richmond but now lives in Louisville, stands around making small talk, passing time as the clock ticks toward 7 p.m., the official start time.

The eager chatter turns to dead silence when Sheila Berman, producer of the Louisville contest, approaches the microphone to announce the prop, character and line of dialogue that all film-making crews must use in their projects. A sense of trepidation fills the room.

”The character, prop and line are staples in the competition,“ Berman says. ”We use them for two reasons. The first is that it helps ensure teams don't start ahead of time. ... It's also interesting to see how people use the same thing in different ways.“

This year's character is named Kevin or Kristen Browning, depending on the sex of the actor, and he or she must be a runner. The prop that must appear on screen is a wrench, and the line: ”But what about global warming?“

If any of these elements are missing, teams are disqualified from the judges' awards and the cash prizes — $125 to $500 — that go with them.

This is Louisville's third year of hosting a local competition for the 48-Hour Film Project, which was started in 2001 by two Washington, D.C., filmmakers. Each year, new cities are added and more participants sign up.

”We don't have a lot of money for big advertising,“ Berman says. ”It's a little word-of-mouth, but each year, there are more people who discover it.“

At 6:45, team leaders line up to draw genres. Miller reaches into a black baseball cap filled with strips of paper. He pulls one out, reads it and then leans into the microphone to say his team name and the genre he drew.

”For the Birds. Drama.“

Representing Eastern Ky.

For the Birds Films, Miller's crew, has a reputation to uphold at this year's contest. Last year, they won best screenplay and best acting awards for their short, Good in Red. They used that prize money to produce this year's movie.

Although the eight team members are from all over the state, the four men on the writing team are originally from Madison County. Miller, who is producer, graduated from Madison Central High School in Richmond. Wil Thames, 23, a film techniques and technology student at Eastern Kentucky University, is head writer, director and editor. Matt Cox, 24, a 2008 graduate of EKU's journalism program, is helping to write and doing tech support. Colby Bogie, 23, a Richmond native and recent Harvard University graduate, is writing an original score.

After a couple of hours of brainstorming, the group has a rough outline. The proposed plot centers on Kevin, the required character, and his wife, Elizabeth. Kevin has just lost his job, and his despair has begun to complicate the couple's marriage.

”This character ... is really weak,“ Thames says. ”He blames everyone except for himself; he doesn't take responsibility. That's the whole premise of the movie, that he won't man-up to anybody.“

After the couple try to assemble a store-bought chair, they have an argument. Kevin packs his bags, takes off his wedding ring and heads for the door. Elizabeth persuades him to stay one more night.

But the next morning Kevin must choose: car keys or running shoes? He goes for a jog, and when he returns, his anger has abated and he takes a shower. A closing shot reveals that he has put his wedding ring back on.

The story seems simple, but according to Stu Pollard, a Louisville filmmaker and judge for the competition, simplicity is a necessity.

”I think the biggest mistake that especially the first-timers in the competition make is they try to cram a feature-film idea into a four- to seven-minute window,“ he says. ”The most effective films are those that figure out a simple story to tell and don't overshoot the runway.“

The right actors

Because filmmakers must adhere to a strict time limit of four to seven minutes, they have little time to draw in the audience. That means the film's actors have to be at the top of their game.

”Good films are carried by believable performances, ... but the talent pool of actors in Louisville is only so deep,“ Pollard says.

Michael Etter, a Williams­burg native who studied theater at U of L, is For the Birds' male lead. Opposite him will be Sharon McGinley, who won the best-acting award in the crew's 2007 film.

But there's a potential problem. Etter and McGinley, who will play husband and wife, are real-life brother and sister. The team has some concern over the possible awkwardness of the film's emotional and romantic scenes, namely one in which Kevin gently kisses Elizabeth on the forehead.

”They say it's not an issue, but when we go out and actually start filming, it could become a problem,“ Thames says.

”It's bizarre,“ McGinley admits, but she says she's willing to put feelings aside. All she asks is that photos from the set don't make it onto Facebook.

”No need to traumatize our parents,“ she says.

The little things

After a couple of hours of sleep, the team starts filming at 5:30 a.m. Saturday to get shots of Etter's character jogging at sunrise. No more than a few minutes in, small setbacks start demanding ingenuity and efficiency. They find they need a steady camera to keep pace with ­Etter without the shot bouncing around.

”We were kind of limited by the vehicles; ideally, we'd have a pickup truck to mount a tripod in,“ says Kent Gessinger, director of photography. ”I hung the camera on a tripod upside-down out the back of Sharon's PT Cruiser. At one point Kyle was holding on to my belt so I didn't fall out.“

Thames says, ”That's the kind of guerrilla filmmaking you have to do when you have no money.“

Another setback arises after the team changes locations to a house in the suburbs. The homeowners want the group out by 10 p.m., but many of the shots, which are supposed to take place in early morning, require less daylight — the kind that doesn't happen in summer until about 9:30 p.m.

By the time the team sets up equipment, frames shots and studies lines, it's almost 5 p.m. With only 26 hours left in the competition, the bulk of the physical work — filming and editing — remains undone.

”Always the things I can't control are the most stressful,“ Thames says.

After inevitably overstaying their welcome, the crew moves at midnight to Etter's apartment to finish shooting.

Accidentally artistic

Finally, filming is completed at 3:30 a.m., 18 1/2 hours before the deadline.

While the rest of the sleep-deprived team crashes, Thames chugs another energy drink — his 22nd — and prepares for an all-night editing session. After he imports and orders the scenes in the computer software Final Cut Pro, yet another problem presents itself. And this is a big one.

The film is 11 minutes long — nearly double the contest's time limit.

Frantically, Thames starts chopping — overlapping audio and video from different scenes and cutting some scenes entirely. The more he cuts, the more convoluted the plot becomes and the more terrified the team becomes that their hard work won't amount to anything watchable.

”Colby would talk me down from having a panic attack several times. He's like, "You can do it,'“ Thames says of his late-night editing. ”I'm like, "Dude, I can't. There's no plot left.'“

Even the final scene, showing Kevin with his wedding ring back on, gets axed, leaving the film with a much more ambiguous ending. When all cuts are made, the film runs 6 minutes, 59 seconds.

About 3 p.m. Sunday — four hours to go — the sleepy-eyed crew watches the near-final product. They're amazed at what it has become.

It's a stream-of-consciousness piece in the vein of ­Memento. Intense flashbacks of the couples' fight interchange at random with peaceful scenes of Etter's character jogging away his frustration in the early-morning sun.

”It's actually kind of cool, like this indie art movie I never expected to make,“ Thames says. ”When people ask me what it means, I can say, "Well, it means something different to everyone. I create art for other people to interpret.'“

Reception

The film's final title is Assembly Required, originally intended to be a dual reference to the chair that sparks the couple's fight and to the fragile nature of their relationship. But after Thames' editing, it takes on a whole new meaning.

”The plot sort of demands some assembly from the audience for them to know what's going on,“ Miller says.

But the audience doesn't seem to mind.

Assembly Required performs well at screenings later in the week.

”The audience's reaction felt very positive,“ Miller says. ”A professional filmmaking group approached us ... They wanted to talk to our writers about doing something for them.“

The audience's and judges' awards won't be announced until a ceremony on Aug. 23. But for Miller, it's not about winning; it's the sense of personal satisfaction.

”We've had some success, but I don't know that we necessarily set out to win any awards or be better than anyone else,“ he says. ”We're just trying to tell a good story.“