we are family

Today was the day.

Today was the day that my little chess family would be united by the sheer magic of auditions and callbacks.

Based on initial auditions from the last three sessions, the casting director and I invited back nine actors vying for the roles of Grandmother, Mother, Teen Joey, and Young Joey.  Our goal today was to match up these actors in different combinations to cook up the family of three in a believable, harmonious way.  It's like match dot com, without the drearily pretentious profile names, but with the same photoshopped, years-old pictures, sometimes.

With three actors returning for the role of Mother and two actors each for the other roles, I was tempted to recall my days of math competitions in high school and attempt to calculate the different number of permutations such a match would yield if we were to try to group the actors into every combination possible.  I didn't - too busy watching their performances to even dare humiliate my pride.  Besides, I'm probably using the word permutation incorrectly anyway.

We didn't try every combination possible.  We couldn't put the actors through that emotionally draining and parking meter fee draining process.  We couldn't put ourselves through it.

It would have been 24 different combinations of actors to go through, I think.

Rather, we concocted a special formula to test out our hunches for the best actors that we liked for each role, but even that, the whole process took more than two hours.  I had forgotten who was auditioning for what role by the end of it.  Luckily I had my casting director and producer there to keep my on track.  Now that I've decided on whom I wanted to be in my family, it becomes a waiting game:  you eagerly await a response after bravely sending out a message (no "winks" - too lame) on match dot com, hoping you're somehow in the league of "talljockinSF4same."

I don't know who that is.

I made it up, really.

All profile names in this blog entry are fictitious.  Any resemblance to real profiles, active or inactivated, accurate or exaggerated, is purely coincidental.

wysinwyg

In film, what you see is not what you get.

Yes, it's all lies.  This actor isn't really standing in front of and talking to that one, and the window over there doesn't actually look out to the turquoise sea.  The sea isn't turquoise either, but that's another topic.

Two of the people on a film crew that help the director accomplish these lies are the director of photography (DP) and the production designer - PD, which I just made up.  Today I met the three people who will be helping me in these roles, and I could hardly believe, still, that living, breathing souls will actually carry out my vision to translate my dream onto screen.

Today was the day to let the creative juices flow.  I had been anticipating yet dreading my first meeting with the DP, eager to discuss with him the ingenious camera angles and movements that I had dreamt up, having desperately crammed as much camera jargon as I could find online.  The pressures of a newbie.  Sigh...

After that, I rushed from Pasadena to Downtown LA.  This trip would have been a piece of cake for anyone with a Smartphone.  However, since I have not paid the membership dues for said group, I, in a futile attempt to avoid traffic on a Friday afternoon, got lost twice and ended up 15 minutes late.  Since my meeting was with the co-producer and the two PDs (that's right - I have not one but two PDs), that was the equivalent of being 45 minutes late.

This was a brainstorming session to concretize the words in my script into the physical world that would house my chess playing family.  We talked about the tablecloth, posters on the wall, and the cookie that little Joey eats.  It was mind-boggling.  I believed I had thought of everything until the PD asked me if the young actor playing young Joey is allergic to nuts.  It's all becoming real.

Except that it isn't.

kings and queens and pawns, oh my

It is an unglamorous weekend of location hunting.  I am searching for a location to hold the chess tournament in my story.

Unlike the super powerful and super rich world of team sports in this country, the Bobby Fischer want-to-bes can only strut their stuff in public spaces such as libraries, churches, and hotel conference rooms. No high school cheerleader would dare show their face or pom poms at a competition such as this, where intellectual prowess, not brute force or athletic agility, are on display.  'Tis sad but true - corporate sponsors, television broadcasting contracts, and celebrity spokespeople avoid the pursuit of intellectual achievement like the plague.

So I must rely on my own research to find the whereabouts of these neglected warriors.  Smart that I am, a simple search for chess clubs yields a few possibilities in Los Angeles.  Could one of these clubs lead me to a potential location for my film?

Stay tuned.  I don't mean tuned to the television, since balls are not used in this competition.  Rather, we've got a royal court in black or white, fighting their way to victory with one brain cell at a time.

i know what that's like

Second day of casting:  today we focus on young Joey and his grandmother.

Watching these eight to twelve-year-olds, I wonder how it is that they have been able to figure out what they want to do at such a young age.  Sure, some of them may have come to the audition to fulfill their parents' (or perhaps their own) dream of fame and fortune, but some others exuded a certain air of refreshing energy which was not difficult to detect.

One boy came in and hit every emotional beat that the script demanded, at least on the surface:  I was immediately turned off by the seeming perfection of his performance, because that was exactly what it was, a performance.  What I wanted was an innocent vulnerability that no amount of hours of memorizing lines or embellishment with gestures and facial expressions could achieve.  Luckily, we saw one boy that showed a hint of this quality, although he was quite raw and would need a lot of direction.  What should I gamble on - my directing skills or the boy's acting skills?  Another boy had to postpone his audition because he developed a stye.  He should have come anyway so that I could treat it.  Or maybe not.

The last actor of the day was a cheery boy with sandy blond hair.  After his first reading, I offered him the adjustment of reading the scene as if he has had a bad day at school.  His response:  "I know what that's like, I get bullied a lot at school because I'm the smallest."

I did not expect to be heart broken at these auditions, but I suppose moments like this need to be expected in the business, and I must not consider offering a part to an actor as disappointment to all the others.

We move on; we all know what that's like.

location, location, location

In real estate, finding the right location for your home is everything and more.  In filmmaking, finding the right location for your story is nothing but pain.

My location scout Daniel took me to the California Film Commission office in Hollywood today to learn the process of locating scouting.  We spent a couple of hours there hearing about obtaining permits, contacting local film commissions, and the surprising utility of The Thomas Guide, the bible of maps in the Los Angeles area, more accurate and informative than Google maps.  I think the first day of anatomy class in medical school was less daunting; at least there a mistake wouldn't necessarily land you a hefty fine or a lawsuit.

I have three locations to track down for my script - a community space for a chess tournament, a park, and a home.  I have three words for each of them - hard, harder, hardest.  Let's hope that Gentleman Luck comes my way, and possibilities turn up soon.

The highlight of my day?  Feasting on a double-double at a Hollywood In-N-Out.  To help the meaty burger find the right location to my stomach, I washed it down with a thick milk shake.  Chocolate, of course.

the golden moments

Picture it:  New York, April 2007.

A not-so-young director want-to-be was in the midst of a busy pre-production session for a filmmaking workshop.  During auditions, an actor approached the director and shared with the director his interpretation of the character.  Hearing that another person understood his vision, the director sensed chills running up his spine and was nearly moved to tears.

It was then that the not-so-young director want-to-be knew that that was what he was.  That director was me.  And that actor - I've forgotten his name.

Fast forward six years (perhaps even to the day), and I am once again in the presence of actors with whom I will have the daunting task and privilege of interpreting my script.  Luckily I've got a great casting director and her assistant to guide me along the way.  The journey ahead this time, however, is quadruple the challenges of my previous experience, as I've unwisely written a story about a family of three, including three generations and a span of ten years.  That translated to review over 500 head shots this afternoon and many hours ahead of matching up faces to build a believable family.

I'm looking forward to every moment of this process, especially since one of the ladies auditioning for the role of Grandmother reminded me of Estelle Getty from The Golden Girls.

beyond 5 is another 5

Ah - thirteen - my favorite number.  Hence the reason I've chosen today as my departure date for Los Angeles.

I've just realized that the word Angeles contains the name "Ang Lee."

But I digress.  Ahead of me is the seemingly unending and desolate stretch of Interstate 5 which, by the time I reach my destination, will have covered my car with dust and remnants of insects that fly too slowly to avoid impact with my 75 mph (plus or minus 5 mph, okay, maybe 10) vehicle.  I must focus on traversing this lonely journey accompanied only by the humming of the California wind and the sappy lyrics of Taiwanese and Japanese pop songs from the 90s.

In between the too frequent glances at the distance to destination indicator on the dashboard, my mind wanders.  It recalls the last time I trekked away from home to the prospect of a new career, arriving in Pittsburgh to begin medical school in 1995.  I was nervous, and I wanted to turn back.  Eighteen years later, abandoning medicine and embracing the new role of film director, I am nervous, but I don't want to turn back.

Back then, I felt compelled to study medicine; it was an external force that originated from my brain and not my family, as many might guess.  Now, I am once compelled.  Only this time it is an internal drive emanating from my heart to propel me toward filmmaking.

I steal another look at the dashboard:  yet another 5 miles closer to the X that sometimes clearly marks the spot but other times only seems to suggest it.  A deep breath.  5 miles at a time, and after an X number of times, I will be there.

And there will be here.

what a feeling

Two months after the idea of making a short film with a professional crew in Los Angeles was proposed to me, one month after I decided to make this leap of trust, and a few weeks into sacrificing uncountable brain cells from revising the script, learning about SAG contracts, and debating whether to from an LLC, I finally felt the excitement of taking that first creative step toward the production of my film - when I bought a chess set today.

An important element in my short film "I'll Remember," the game of chess demands complete concentration and employment of various strategies in response to the opponent.  I will skip the obvious metaphors of needing total focus and strategic planning in the production of a film; instead I will remember the still fresh details of opening the glossy box, laying out the heavy wooden chessboard, and smelling the woodsy scent of each piece this afternoon.  I imagine Joey, the young boy from my script, leaping out from the inked pages to move a pawn while declaring "check!"  And I see the grandmother, pondering over her next move at the board and fading into Neverland as dementia gradually takes over.

It's good, isn't it.  This chessboard.  These 32 black and white pieces made of cheap wood with a circular felt pad glued to the bottom.  I must remember this.

The chess set was MIT - made in Taiwan.  Just like me.