Eager to cultivate my craft and voice as a filmmaker, I recently made one film per week for seven consecutive weeks. For inspiration and focus, I began by randomly drawing a Greek personification spirit on Thursdays, then screening the film on following Wednesdays.

As you can imagine, the project triggered my deepest fears: Am I wasting my time?  Can I live up to the challenge?  Will the films be any good?  I’m not sure, but that’s okay, because my primary goal was to mature as a director and have some fun.  The key was my stripped-down production approach (e.g., 1 location, 1-2 actors), which enabled me to make one film per week while focusing on directorial execution and personal expression.

Click on the images below to watch each film…

Film 1, July 7 – 13: Deimos

Film 2, July 14 – 20: Paregoros

Film 3, July 21 – 27: Coalemus

Film 4, July 28 – Aug 3: Ptocheia

Film 5, Aug 4 – 10: Phthisis

Film 6, Aug 11 – 17: Moirae

Film 7, Aug 18 – 23: Dolos

I don’t have a recognizable name nor a recognizable film. In essence, most of the world couldn’t care less about me nor my movies. Notice, however, I didn’t merely say I’m a nobody in general. I do believe that I am just as important as anyone else in the sphere of humanity, but I most certainly am a nobody in the world of film. Nonetheless, rather than discourage and ruin, this awareness has actually liberated me and has provided an invaluable perspective on my work and career.

The internet, mass media, and proliferation of discussion panels and seminars have made film industry experts readily available to beginning filmmakers. Folks who once were virtually unreachable are now a click away on their blog, Facebook or Twitter page. As a result, beginning filmmakers can listen in on the conversation between experts. Insider tips and wisdom regarding all areas of film are now available, from casting celebrities to securing a VOD deal.

However, there is a buried assumption in all the talk amongst most experts: that a filmmaker or their project has a certain level of credibility, hype or leverage. Sure, sometimes the gurus discuss general principles and concepts that apply to every level of filmmaking, but more often than not, the discussion presumes a relatively high level of stock in either the filmmaker or their film. As a result, many of these conversations are irrelevant to nobody filmmakers, like me, who have no reputable name nor a film with high salability. Nonetheless, we continue to invest lots of time, energy and money trying to learn from the experts. We eagerly read blogs and attend seminars in search of the Golden Key, which will unlock the door to success.

When I was learning to play golf as a teen, the overabundance of lessons, tips, and tricks in magazines, books and videos quickly overwhelmed me – and this was before the net! Then, and I don’t remember where, I heard Arnold Palmer say that beginning golfers ought to simply go out and try to hit the ball. Just make contact; that’s it. Rather than spend countless hours working on details, angles, etcetera, beginners ought to go out and swing away.

A beginning filmmaker can learn all about financing, film production, marketing and distribution, but if they have little or nothing to back it up with, what’s the point? I’ve met numerous filmmakers who think they can raise thousands of dollars, even millions, with one script in hand and a decent short film to their credit. Who do they think they are? What other business or profession operates like that? None! You want me to give you tens of thousands, even millions because you wrote a script and made a snazzy little short film? Really?

Like every other profession in the world, filmmakers must earn their right to ask for thousands of dollars. They need to earn their right to mass market their film and seek distribution. They need to earn their right for people to care about them and their film. It’s so easy these days to send emails, tweets and posts about your project. It’s so easy to create your own Fan page on Facebook and invite me to join. It’s all easy. Incredibly easy.

But the hard part has not changed: the work, the labor, the blood, the sweat, and the tears. The baker bakes. The contractor builds. Andthe filmmaker must make films, continuously, ceaselessly, not just one project, but numerous projects, dozens or more. What baker bakes one loaf of bread and asks for thousands of dollars to open up a bakery. What contractor builds one home and expects to have thousands of fans on Facebook. None. It’s ludicrous. As a nobody filmmaker, I have come to realize that I need to earn my right to people’s attention, time and dollars. And the way I earn that right is by consistently making films, plain-and-simple.

I’ve likened the current independent film world like a giant stadium full of screaming people. It’s cacophonous and immensely intimidating. Everyone is vying for attention, trying to make their presence felt. The experts are on the field, at the center of attention, while the rest of us scream our heads off. Some in the stands get crafty and hold up signs. Some even wear costumes and cover themselves in face paint. And every now and then, one or two hop the wall and run across the field, ensuring a couple minutes of guaranteed attention.

I’m tired of yelling and screaming. And I’m tired of the noise. I’vetried and tried to get attention and it really doesn’t work. Everyone else is yelling and the people on the field really don’t care. Even if they did, it’s just too damn loud to notice me. So I’ve decided to stop, take a breath, and start a conversation with those around me. And if they don’t listen, I’ll simply head over to another section, where I might find some like-minded folks willing to settle down and carry on a meaningful conversation. It hasn’t been easy, since many simply want to keep on yelling, but I’m happy to say it’s been going well. I continue to meet a few people who don’t want to yell, but want to connect, collaborate, and support.

As a result, my nobody-ness as a filmmaker is not entirely true. I’ve come to realize that I am somebody to a few people. Although not many, there are some folks who genuinely care about my films. They watch my films, read my blog posts, and anticipate my future films. Many are preexisting friends and family members and some are tried and true fans of my work whom I have never met. To them, I am a somebody. And to them I am eternally grateful.

So as a nobody filmmaker, I have turned to those who treat me like a somebody. They may not be many in number, but the few that there are have meant the world to me. They are my friends, family and colleagues who genuinely care. And as I continue to make films and develop my craft, I will share first and foremost with them. Rather than create a Fan page, I will call them, email them and let them know what I’m up to. And, hopefully, if my films are any good, they’ll spread the word and, maybe, create a Fan page for me!

-Christopher J. Boghosian-

Christopher J. Boghosian is an independent filmaker in Los Angeles, California. He regularly contributes Production Notes regarding his filmaking approach and the making of his feature film Girlfriend 19, which you can check out at FollowMyFilm.com.

Most filmmakers rarely make films. Simply put, it takes a ton of time, energy and resources to actually make a film, even a short. Like the thousands of disillusioned immigrants who were promised the “American dream” at the turn of the 20th century, many aspiring filmmakers have found themselves unfruitful despite the “digital revolution.” Although affordable video cameras have virtually replaced expensive film equipment, not much has changed in terms of lighting, costumes, make-up, locations, talent, crew, catering, insurance, contracts, etc..

Because of such production demands, most filmmakers spend little time actually making films. Though my business card says, “Christopher J. Boghosian, Filmmaker,” much of my time is spent planning, promoting and thinking about my films. I assume John Doe, Baker frequently bakes or Jane Doe, Yoga Instructor consistently teaches yoga; however, Christopher J. Boghosian, Filmmaker rarely makes films. Sure, filmmakers are often unproductive due to their own issues. Like other artists, they battle numerous personal hurdles such as laziness, ignorance, ego and fear. Believe me, I fight inner demons every day! Nonetheless, even if one earnestly attempts to make a film, the sheer complexities of the task eventually overwhelm and thwart them.

An important distinction must be made. The type of filmmaking I am speaking of is live-action narrative filmmaking with high “production value,” which essentially refers to the richness or sophistication of a film. For instance, a film with myriad locations, celebrities, costumes and stunts will have high production value, whereas a film like Paranormal Activity with two primary characters in one location lacks production value. Although such value is subjective, there is general consensus in the film business and amongst movie-goers regarding how rich and sophisticated a movie should look. Therefore, those who strive to make a distinguished film for a large audience are faced with the production value challenge, which usually means raising money to secure, coordinate and execute multiple elements over a long period of time.

As a relatively new filmmaker, production demands quickly become my nemesis. Making a film often ends up becoming a logistical chore, not a creative venture. Rather than develop the craft of writing and directing, I often spend my time securing locations, gathering equipment and managing people. And if you’re thinking that such chores ought to be delegated, I simply ask to whom? Unless you are blessed with an abundance of loyal colleagues or resourceful family and friends eager to v ol unt eer , you, the filmmaker, often end up doing it.

As a result, I have been developing a filmmaking methodology that will eliminate much of the burden. Rather than raise money or solicit volunteer services, I am seeking ways to reduce production elements in general. It’s like America trying to reduce its dependency on foreign oil. How can I become more independent through efficiency and innovation? Can I only film at one location? Do I really need a ton of expensive equipment? Again, it comes down to production value. Many people try to make movies with a high production value on the cheap, but they almost always fail, because it’s too taxing and expensive.

Excellence is doing the best with what one has and because I currently don’t have plentiful resources, then I must let go of high production value expectations. I had absolutely no crew and rented no equipment for my last short film, Jasmin & Josephine. I was the only person who worked on it, from writing the script to editing the film. As a result, I literally made the film in one week. I didn’t have to wait on paper work, people’s schedules, etc.. In fact, the elderly woman in the film is my very own grandmother and we filmed in her apartment! Sure, there is virtually no production value, but, hey, I successfully made a film that I am very proud of.

I am convinced that aspiring filmmakers like myself need to abandon production value and focus more on making films. I miss my camera and I miss working with actors. As a result, I am developing an intense filmmaking project for myself to begin in January. Tossing production value and it’s obstacles aside, I’m going to free myself to simply make films!

-Christopher J. Boghosian

Christopher J. Boghosian is an independent filmaker in Los Angeles, California. He regularly contributes Production Notes regarding his filmaking approach and the making of his feature film Girlfriend 19, which you can check out at FollowMyFilm.com.

BECOME A FAN OF JASMIN & JOSEPHINE

Crowdfunding is a new trend in independent film financing where filmmakers offer perks/rewards in exchange for cash donations.  The legal hurdles of an investment-based system are avoided as long as donors are not promised any ownership of the film.

The two prominent crowdfunding websites are IndieGoGo and Kickstarter.  They both charge a percentage of what you raise and require filmmakers to set a deadline.  However, there is one key difference: Kickstarter imposes an all-or-nothing policy where one must meet their monetary goal or receive nothing, whereas IndieGoGo will allow you to keep whatever you raise but charge you more if you come up short.

Most successful campaigns seem to feature niche content.  English Bulldog owners and mariachi fans will get really excited about a film featuring their unique interest.  Another common factor for crowdfunding success is teamwork.  Campaigns with multiple team members working together generally raise more.  Four people will exponentially reach more individuals than a one-man show.

Nonetheless, even if you are a team of 10 people with a movie about juggling monks, crowdfunding thousands of dollars is extremely difficult, plain-and-simple.  To begin with, most people don’t care about your project by default.  Let’s be honest: who are you and what is your film in comparison to the recession, natural disasters and the next Will Farrell movie?  “Nothing.”  As a result, most people who contribute to your campaign will either have a personal interest in you or your content, which is why you must connect with such people.

It took me many days to prepare an IndieGoGo campaign for my feature film, Girlfriend 19.  Both sites provide a campaign page enabling you to post a pitch video supplemented with text.  I took this very seriously: Who is my target audience?  What will my video include?  And what will be its overall mood and feel?  In the end, I chose a mood that reflects my film itself while targeting a professional crowd.  You must make a choice and, in the end, there will be people who dislike your video and not donate as a result.  This definitely happened to me and it’s simply how it goes as with all marketing.

Girlfriend 19 is a unique feature film you can help produce! Check out this video to learn more about the film and our crowdfunding campaign on Girlfriend19

Girlfriend 19 is fiscally sponsored, so all donations are eligible for a 100% tax-deduction!

Now that you have created your campaign, you must now connect with and continually ask people to give.  Since the launch of my campaign, I have spent countless hours sending emails, updating my blog, posting on Facebook, and Tweeting.  They say crowdfunding is a full-time job and I completely agree.  Again, I’m not cynical; it’s simple a fact that people generally don’t care and need to be inspired to give.

But that’s just the easy part.  The emotional ups and downs have been the hardest aspect by far.  They say crowdfunding campaigns start strong, slow down, and finally finish strong.  My campaign start was awful.  I merely raised $57 on Day One!  Imagine how discouraged I was.  And to top things off, my film is fiscally sponsored by Fractured Atlas, an arts service organization that has teamed up with IndieGoGo.  This means donors can receive a 100% tax-deduction for their contribution.  I was sure a tax break would lead to immediate results, but I was totally was wrong.

Then, the miracle happened!  About two weeks into my campaign, I received an email from someone wanting to set-up a $2,500 match fund.  This meant that all donations over the course of one week would be matched/doubled up to $2,500.  This sparked new life in me, so I immediately sent out 113 personalized emails to people I believed cared about me and my film.  The response was huge!  Within a week, I raised well over $2,500 and my campaign total became $7,211, including the match fund itself.

All hardships aside, there is one primary reason I recommend crowdfunding: it gives friends, family and strangers the opportunity to contribute to your film and bless you with their kindness.  In the end, crowdfunding is not only about you.  There are many folks that want to support those pursuing their passion.  It simply feels good to be a part of someone’s dream.  Sure, most people may not want to help, but for those that do, you have given them the option.

Please visit my campaign site on IndieGoGo.  Take a look at what I’ve done.  Maybe you’ll like some things and not others.  Hopefully my campaign will inspire you to launch your own if you haven’t already done so.  In fact, my campaign is currently a “Featured” project on the site!  And if you have any questions, ask away…

-Christopher J. Boghosian

Christopher J. Boghosian is an independent filmmaker in Los Angeles, California.  He regularly contributes Production Notes regarding the making of his feature film, Girlfriend 19, which you can check out at FollowMyFilm.com.

As an independent filmmaker, the most important thing I can receive from others is encouragement.  This may seem naïve in a profession that heavily relies on equipment, networking and capital; however, without encouragement, I believe all the resources in the world are futile.

The prefix “en-” connotes a transformation into another state.  It is also used as an intensifier heightening said state.  To encourage, then, literally means transforming a person into courage, or intensifying courage within them.  Imagine that!  What a powerful thing to do for someone – transform them into courage, a state where they will face adversity with resolve and grit.  And imagine if that person hopes to do good.  You are filling them with fuel to make good things happen!

Unfortunately the opposite is also true.  To discourage means transforming another into the opposite of courage: cowardice, weakness, fear.  It’s often said that one negative comment can override one hundred positives.  I personally believe silence is a form of discouragement as well.  In other words, to not encourage is to discourage.  There is no neutral ground in my experience: you either encourage or discourage.  

Conferences, festivals, and workshops have proliferated with the recent rise of independent filmmaking.  It seems there is always something to attend, especially in Los Angeles.  As an aspiring filmmaker who has attended such events myself, I strongly believe most attendees are unknowingly there for encouragement.  They ultimately want to be told they can do it.  By acquiring knowledge, hearing testimonies, and making connections, desperate filmmakers are encouraged to go out and make their movie.  Unfortunately, events are impersonal and temporary, thus, many attendees soon find themselves at another event seeking another dose of encouragement.



“It’s not what you know, it’s who you know that matters.”  Everyone and their mother goes around Hollywood parroting this erroneous saying.  Consequently, it has misguided countless filmmakers resulting in dismantled dreams and far too many “casting couch” sessions.  Rather than work on their craft, filmmakers spend precious time and energy ingratiating themselves to “successful” people in vain.  Even if you manage to meet influential people and acquire immense resources, what’s the point if you don’t have the talent and courage to back it up?  It’s what you do that matters.

Why don’t we encourage one another more often?  It can cost no more than a few moments of our time.  It’s crazy how trivial things on Facebook receive dozens of “Likes” and comments while one’s hopes, dreams and ventures receive little response.  And what about YouTube – oh man!  The absolute dumbest, most asinine videos generate millions of views while well-crafted, beautiful works are relatively unseen.  As a result, stupidity is encouraged and beauty is discouraged.

Please don’t misunderstand – I realize there is a place for everything, even a video of a salami sandwich doing the Macarena.  I’m simply questioning the sheer discrepancy of appreciation between nonsense and art.  A Like on Facebook encourages, a positive comment even more.  And a Share, wow, that’s gold!  But how often do we do that for people who really need it?

And the argument that Facebook and YouTube are simply places to unwind, goof-off and relax is a poor excuse.  The proof is in the pudding: prominent folks constantly receive encouragement.  Their endless self-promotion is frequently met with countless Likes, comments and shares.  


Independent filmmaking is often difficult, bleak, and impossible, thus, encouraging a filmmaker can radically help them.  With your interest and support, you bless them with the confidence, hope and strength to persevere – you transform them into courage!

-Christopher J. Boghosian

Christopher J. Boghosian is an independent filmmaker in Los Angeles, California.  He regularly contributes Production Notes regarding the making of his feature film, Girlfriend 19, which you can check out at FollowMyFilm.com.

Filmmaking can be the most elaborate of all art forms.  Consider a film’s end credits compared to a painting: myriad names scroll up the screen while a solitary signature sits in the corner of the painting.

I was recently on the set of a $17,000,000 film production.  There were about 50 crew members, all with very specialized jobs.  That may seem excessive, but as I watched I couldn’t help but conclude that everyone had an essential role.

About a month ago, I wrapped production of my first feature film, Girlfriend 19.  It cost infinitely less than $17,000,000 with nowhere near a crew of 50; nonetheless, I needed a lot more help making my film versus painting alone.  


Not only was I the director of Girlfriend 19, I was the key producer as well.  By key, I mean the person ultimately in-charge.  Although I hired a very skilled friend to help me produce, she was not a legal partner on the film.  Legally, she was an independent contractor with no personal attachment to the production.  So, in the end, Girlfriend 19 was a legal  one-man-show: moi!

The ultimate significance of this legal distinction is its burden.  In the end, the buck stopped with me.  Girlfriend 19 was a “sole proprietor” venture.  Only my name appeared on contracts as the “Producer.”  As a result, only I could deal with certain matters that arose during production, like filming permits, liability insurance, and employment law.



This sole burden was no different on-set.  I was both director and producer.  Was everyone doing their job?  Were we disrupting the neighbors?  Did the cops show-up?  These were ultimately my worries.  I constantly needed to monitor the proper care for our locations and equipment.  If something was damaged, it was my responsibility, i.e., I had to pay.  Even harder, the morale and safety of my crew was constantly on my mind.  It was my responsibility that people were taken care of in every aspect.  

Producing is a huge responsibility and not a good combination with directing.  I did my best to focus on performances, lighting, and sound; however, whenever there were loud noises or if we got behind schedule, I had to be the producer and tackle the issue.  I even worried about lunch, hoping it would be delivered on-time, hot, and tasty.  



On the positive side, I learned a lot due to my producing duties.  I now have a much better understanding of filming permits, liability insurance and entertainment employment law.  There is a ton of misinformation and faulty practice amidst independent filmmakers, which I can now safely avoid.  Additionally, as a sole proprietor, I have complete autonomy with the film, thus, absolute creative control.

That being said, I definitely will not do it again alone, which is the greatest lesson I learned during my production.  Producing as a sole legal entity is too large a burden to bear alone.  In the future, I will do things differently.  On the one hand, I can work as a director-for-hire for another producer.  Sure, that may limit my creative control; however, the peace-of-mind may be worth it.  Another option is to make a film on a much smaller scale.  Girlfriend 19 had a crew of 10 people and a cast of 5.  Tiny, compared to a $17,000,000 film, however, that’s still 15 people I was responsible for.  So, what about a cast and crew of less than 5?  Is that possible?  Maybe…  



My final option, which I am most excited about, is teaming up with a true producing partner.  I not only hope to share my legal liability and burden with someone else, but success and joy as well.  Life is too short to experience good times alone.  Hopefully, on my next project, I’ll have a partner to cry and celebrate with.   

-Christopher J. Boghosian

Christopher J. Boghosian is an independent filmmaker in Los Angeles, California.  He regularly contributes Production Notes regarding the making of his feature film, which you can keep track of at FollowMyFilm.com.

Prior to writing the script for Taxi Driver (1976), Paul Schrader wrote the book, Transcendental Style in Film, in which he postulates that Yasujiro Ozu, Robert Bresson, and, in some cases, Carl Dreyer utilized a similar formal approach in many of their films.  Like a scientist, Schrader observes a pattern and hypothesizes a formalistic origin, which he calls the “transcendental style.”  Rather than merely entertain and offer audiences a vicarious experience, Schrader posits that the transcendental style ultimately confronts the viewer with the “Wholly Other.”  Although there is some contention regarding Schrader’s book, especially its spiritual connotation, it offers a unique and intriguing perspective regarding the works of said filmmakers.



According to Schrader, these films start by establishing disparity between the protagonist and the everyday world around them.  This disparity inevitably alienates the protagonist from the viewer as well, which is the complete opposite of most narrative films that strive to connect viewers with the protagonist.

Next, through a series of decisive moments, it becomes apparent that the protagonist is motivated by something not of this world, but by something Schrader calls their holy agony.  Like “a growing crack in the dull surface” of their cold, unfeeling environment, the disparity between the protagonist and their world expands, casting suspicion that he/she may be some kind of spiritual vessel, a saint, or divine manifestation.

These films come to a climax with the protagonist’s decisive action, a “miraculous” act that confronts the willing viewer with the Wholly Other.  In the case of Bresson’s The Trial of Joan of Arc, the miracle is Joan’s martyrdom at the stake.  On the other hand, the miracle can be much less dramatic, such as Ozu’s Tokyo Story, where the miracle is a weeping Setsuko Hara.  

Finally, to solidify the transcendental state produced by the decisive action, the film carefully concludes with a single image and, sometimes, a blast of music intended to induce stasis, “a still re-view of the external world intended to suggest the oneness of all things.”



It is also important to point out what Schrader calls sparse and abundant means.  In a nutshell, transcendental films seldom utilize sensual, emotional, and humanistic techniques intended to evoke empathy.  Rather, they rely on cold, formalistic, and hieratic techniques utilized by Byzantine artists, e.g., two-dimensionality, frontality, and stolidity.  Such sparse means contribute to the disparity between the protagonist and their world; however, the savvy transcendental filmmaker strategically incorporates abundant means as well, in an attempt to hold the viewer’s attention just enough.  For instance, Bresson’s Pickpocket utilizes action sequences and suspense, but it’s overall objective is a sparse, transcendental end.

Immensely intrigued by Schrader’s book, I set out to make my own transcendental film, titled Jasmin & Josephine.  Because I could only produce a short film, it was impossible to thoroughly implement the style, so I simply focused on its major components.  You could call it a formalistic exercise.

I chose to depict a young woman who’s holy agony was to serve an elderly woman with no familial relation.  After casting a fair, “angelic” actress, I worked closely with her and proceeded to strip away any showy mannerisms and dramatics.  Like the Byzantine icons, I wanted her virtually emotionless most of the time.

http://followmyfilm.files.wordpress.com/2010/06/jasmin-josephine-screen-grab_small.jpg

Second, I structured the film following Schrader’s everyday world, disparity, decisive action, and stasis format.  The film begins with a woman doing mundane things for seemingly no special purpose.  However, when the elderly woman is revealed, we realize the protagonist is a servant and her loving care develops a growing sense of disparity with the world around her.  Although you can argue I did not incorporate a clear decisive action or a moment of stasis; nonetheless, my hope was for the viewer to conclude the film with a sense of awe and wonder having witnessed selfless love.

Except for the performances, I made Jasmin & Josephine completely alone, from script to screen.  I say this not to brag or boast, but to express my deeply personal connection with the film.  Unsurprisingly, it was denied admission to every film festival I submitted to; however, I am immensely proud of it and feel it is my best film to date.  Because of my stripped down approach, I was able to create something exactly the way I wanted to utilizing the transcendental style.  

-Christopher J. Boghosian

Christopher J. Boghosian is an independent filmmaker in Los Angeles, California.  He regularly contributes Production Notes regarding the making of his current feature film, which you can learn more about at FollowMyFilm.com.

My greatest inspiration does not come from famous directors nor Academy Award speeches.  Rather, I find inspiration in “nobodies” like me who doggedly plug away at their first few films.  And living in Los Angeles, one would think I am surrounded by such people; however, the reality is that I am not.  Instead, I often run into disillusioned and derailed dreamers.  As most people know, countless folks move to LA every day to make movies, but the truth is that only a few actually do.

Day-to-day survival in LA is quite demanding; it’s expensive, crowded and competitive.  But even if you’re rich, there are many distractions to be reckoned with.  New attractions and social events tempt you while endless traffic jams and long waits at stores and offices delay you.  Nonetheless, in my opinion, what cripples aspiring filmmakers most is the presumption they bring with them to LA: the city itself will make their movie.

Far too many pilgrims naively believe that moving to LA will make them a filmmaker as though it were a rite of passage.

Sure, there may be actors and studios on every corner, but, in the end, one needs to do the hard work and make the film happen.  I believe many genuinely try; however, most are swallowed up by the very city they thought would help them.  As a result, I find myself meeting many filmdreamers, rather than filmmakers.

I’m not one to judge.  Without the support of my wife and family, there is no way I would now be making my first feature film.  I am incredibly blessed and I know it.  On the other hand, LA is my hometown.  I was born and raised here, thus, it supports me in ways it does not support my immigrant peers.  This is why I believe most aspiring filmmakers would be more productive back home where they presumably can focus less on survival and more on making films.

Film pioneers heading West are seldom warned about a simple truth: though Los Angeles routinely supports those making big budget movies, it will ultimately foil and defeat many attempting to make low-budget films.  People like me, trying to make a movie for virtually nothing are viewed as pariahs, beggars and wannabes.  Sure, there may be that rare rental house owner or editor who embraces us nobodies, but most are tired of giving handouts and have become resentful.  Even mom-and-pop store owners have become savvy and demand hundreds, if not thousands of dollars for the use of their little shop.

Such is the reality for aspiring filmmakers in Los Angeles, thus, rather than inspiration, I often find myself barraged with frustration and humiliation.  If only the thousands who migrate here every year would stay home and make the most with what they have!  Ironically, top film festivals like Sundance actually prefer provincial films set in unknown towns and communities.  Festival programmers want to be taken someplace new rather than see another crummy LA apartment.

So, perhaps, while driving out to Los Angeles, many aspiring filmmakers may have left behind their greatest asset: their hometown.

-Christopher J. Boghosian

Christopher J. Boghosian is an independent filmmaker in Los Angeles, California.  He regularly contributes Production Notes regarding the making of his feature film, which you can keep track of at FollowMyFilm.com.

As most of you know, the aspect ratio of a film is the relationship between the length and height of its rectangular frame.  The standard in Hollywood is 1.85:1, which means the length of the frame is 1.85 times longer than its height:

A scene from Sixteen Candles (1984), directed by John Hughes.

And, prior to the 1950s, the standard was 1.37:1:

However, in the early 1950s the affordability and convenience of television threatened to keep movie-goers at home, so Hollywood fought back with epic films in wider formats like 2.20:1 and up:

A scene from Lawrence of Arabia (1962), directed by David Lean.

As a result, 1.37 is virtually extinct now.  In an email, film historian and author David Bordwell explained to me that most modern movie theatres no longer have the technology to project 1.37 films.  In fact, Steven Soderbergh wanted to utilize 1.37 for his film The Good German (2006), but did not since most movie theatres would be unable to screen it.

So what about high-definition video and television?  Its default aspect ratio is 1.78:1, more commonly known as 16x9:

A scene from First Light (2008), directed by Christopher J. Boghosian.

Aspect ratio is not simply an issue for filmmakers alone.  Painters have chosen the aspect ratio of their canvases for centuries:

Mona Lisa by Leonardo Da Vinci (c. 1503-1506)

Odalisque by Jules Joseph Lefebvre (1874)

No doubt the master painters above specifically chose an aspect ratio for their painting based on the content itself.  Can you imagine the Mona Lisa on Lefebvre’s canvas or vice versa?  I seriously doubt Da Vinci simply went with the most popular or readily available canvas size.

Filmmakers are no different; the choice must be intentional.  The content of a film and the director’s vision must determine aspect ratio.  Most digital filmmakers go with 16x9 (1:78) by default.  Why?  Because they believe it’s more “film-like,” i.e., it emulates the look of a movie because it’s rectangular.  That is not intelligent filmmaking; it’s nonsense.

Due to its flexibility, digital video allows us to make and project 1.37 films again.  It’s a beautiful format, lending itself to portraiture and close-ups.  The dimensions of a frame determine where the viewers’ eyes go.  The wider the frame, the more the eyes can wander about.  However, in a more square frame, a close-up fills the screen, forcing the viewer’s eyes to connect with the characters’ eyes (note Betty Davis above).

Additionally, in his incredible book, The Visual Story, Bruce Block points out that the film frame can be divided, blocked off and manipulated to direct the viewers’ eyes.  This can be done mechanically, like the classic split screen effect, or better yet, with the use of objects in the scene itself.

A scene from Vertigo (1958), directed by Alfred Hitchcock

A scene from Rosemary's Baby ( 1968), directed by Roman Polanski.

So even after choosing the aspect ratio, the filmmaker is not stuck and can convert the frame size within the frame itself!

As far as the feature film I’m currently developing, I’m still undecided about which aspect ratio I will choose.  Something rectangular is certainly tempting because of it’s “cinematic” quality; however, if I approach my film like a portraiture artist, I will strongly consider a more square format, like 1.37.

-Christopher J. Boghosian

Christopher J. Boghosian is an independent filmmaker in Los Angeles, California.  He regularly contributes Production Notes regarding the making of his feature film, which you can keep track of at FollowMyFilm.com.

Filmmakers often face myriad concerns while working on a project; however, one in particular has been nagging me as I rewrite my screenplay: how mindful should I be of my potential audience?  In other words, should I create my film to satisfy the tastes and expectations of a particular group of people?

Please note that I am not questioning the intermingling of art and commerce in general.  Rather, my concern is the way in which a targeted approach effects the creative process itself, because, by definition, such an approach certainly governs the creative process.

On Ted Hope’s blog, Truly Free Film, producer Cotty Chubb recently wrote a three part article advocating “tasty” films.  Analogizing films to restaurant menu items, he essentially encourages filmmakers to stick to their vision while catering to a potential audience at the same time.  He concludes: “As a recipe for success in our beleaguered business, as we try to forge a new way forward, that’s as good as it gets: Make Something Tasty.  Make it for us who sit in the dark and dream.”

On the flip side, there are those who advocate personal, auteur-driven filmmaking where audience response is of little concern during the creative process.  Sure, it would be great if people find the film tasty (e.g., theatre attendance and DVD sales), but what matters most is an unadulterated process, free from the need to please others.

Neither one of these two approaches is right or wrong in theory; however, I believe there is a right and wrong in practice.  And the way to determine that is by assessing the filmmaker’s purpose for making the film.  If his/her top priority is to generate some kind of audience response, whether emotional, social or financial, then, yes, they must create with the audience in mind.  However, if their purpose is more personal, then catering to an audience is not the way to go.

Alfred Hitchcock masterfully crafted his films to have very specific effects on his audience, primarily suspense, thus, nearly every decision was made to ensure such effects, from lighting and production design to editing and scoring.  On the other hand, I suspect filmmakers like Robert Bresson or Michelangelo Antonioni are motivated more by form and content.  Please don’t misunderstand, I’m not suggesting that Bresson and Antonioni did not care about the audience.  I’m simply suggesting that they generally did not make creative decisions to satisfy the tastes of a particular audience.

So back to my nagging question: how mindful should I be of my potential audience?  The answer, then, lies in my purpose.  If I want to make people laugh and earn a profit, then I better keep the audience in mind throughout my process.  But if I want to primarily satisfy my own tastes and curiosities, then it’s best to keep the audience in the back of my mind.  It’s simply a matter of degree based on my purpose for making the film.

The key is to be intentional.  Targeting to a particular audience should be a carefully considered decision, rather than a mindless presumption.  Whether big or small, every audience has a particular taste which limits the filmmaker’s choice of ingredients, technique and style.  It’s no different than making decisions about dialogue, aspect ratio or sound design.  Catering to an audience certainly effects the creative process and the finished film itself, a fact I am now carefully considering as I work on my film.

-Christopher J. Boghosian

Christopher J. Boghosian is an independent filmmaker in Los Angeles, California.  He regularly contributes Production Notes regarding the making of his feature film, which you can keep track of at FollowMyFilm.com.

Not long ago, the masses cheered as digital technology democratized filmmaking.  Hoorah - we can all make movies now!  Freed from Studio tyranny and hegemony, the proletariat armed themselves with Panasonic DVXs and now HDSLRs.  Viva Zacuto!

So onward we marched, birthing films by the thousands.  Everywhere you looked, a newborn cried for attention.  YouTube quickly arose as a virtual nanny, but it proved inadequate, valuing quantity over quality.  And what about film festivals?  Sundance is now statistically more selective than Harvard!

As many of us now know, the democratization we embraced has not only liberated us, it has made us responsible parents as well.  Giving birth to Junior isn’t enough, you now need to raise him and introduce him to the world lest he become an orphan.

According to independent film marketing and distribution gurus like Jon Reiss and Peter Broderick one thing is certain: you better start promoting your film-child while it’s still in the womb.  In other words, don’t wait until Junior is born to tell the world.  Share the news at conception.  Post ultrasound pictures on Flickr and solicit baby names on Twitter.  Yes, you might even consider a Facebook fan page for Junior.

The idea is to get people excited while you develop and produce your film.  If you simply wait until the final cut to promote a screening or sell DVDs, you’re doomed.  Remember democratization?  Well, there consequently are tens of thousands of films vying for attention nowadays.  Even if your film is a masterpiece, no one will ever know unless you properly care for it from the beginning.

For this very reason, I created and launched FollowMyFilm.com, a blog chronicling the making of my film, from script to screen.  As I endeavor to write and direct my first feature film, I’m calling upon friends and family to join me and follow my progress.  And hopefully they will tell their friends and family and so on.

And here’s the best part, my blog has proven to be much more than a marketing tool.  A month since its launch, a couple latent benefits have quickly surfaced: the site forces me to think critically about my film and it holds me accountable.

Whether I discuss script decisions or directorial options, writing posts on FollowMyFilm.com necessitates that I take time and think through the filmmaking process.  The post itself becomes a brainstorming session and previsualization exercise.  I may not ultimately make a decision in the post; however, when the time comes, I will be better prepared to make an intentional one.  There are many variables in filmmaking, so to sit down twice a week and think some through has proven invaluable.  Updating the website directly impacts the filmmaking process itself.

The second hidden benefit I discovered upon launching my blog is accountability.  If you’re human like me, you are constantly plagued with doubt, fear, confusion, overwhelm, etc..  All this can lead to procrastination, and worse, a lack of productivity.  They say one of the benefits of film school is project deadlines.  Whether you like it or not, your film is due on a given day and if you don’t turn it in you fail.  But in the real world, we create our own deadlines, which seem to be pushed back chronically.

As a result, publicly announcing your film project from the start is a powerful motivator.  Everyone will know what you’re up to and they will ask you about it; they will expect results.  If this doesn’t motivate you, nothing will.  Many people have subscribed to FollowMyFilm.com and are expectant.  They ask me when the film will be done and how they can see it.  Believe me, this is extremely motivating.  I’d love to say I make films purely for the love of it, but I’m human, remember?  Thus, having some folks expecting results is an incredibly encouraging and compelling force.

So there you go, the birth pangs of democratization.  Am I complaining?  Hell no!  I love it.  I feel privileged to be able to shoot a technically sophisticated film for next to nothing.  I often wonder what John Cassavetes would do with today’s technology – imagine!  However, I am now responsible for my baby.  I cannot just pop him out and expect fanfare. It definitely doesn’t work that way.  I have to celebrate his life before he’s born and FollowMyFilm.com is one way I’m attempting to do just that.

As a contributing writer for the Garage Production Notes, I will continue to share my experience as I write and direct my feature film, so for  up-to-date information, please regularly visit and subscribe to both FollowMyFilm.com and the Garage Production Notes.

Peace,

Christopher J. Boghosian

A painfully intimate portrait – that was my objective in writing and directing Fade to Red.  Rather than craft a story, I simply wanted to take a closer look at a woman and her circumstances.  Like a painting or a photograph, there are no words, no story line.  You simply come face-to-face with a human being during a most difficult time.

I’ve often wondered why cinema has been monopolized by storytelling.  Even short films attempt to cram three acts within a few minutes.  Portraiture has become an overlooked option.  A film can focus primarily on people, not about what they do, but who they are.  Like the portraits of Rembrandt and Karsh, we become transfixed by the person within the frame.  We stare, wonder and maybe connect.  I’ve even grown suspicious of using the term character in my films; it dehumanizes the people on-screen, reducing them to mere structural devices.   I will never forget the anger I felt while listening to the audio commentary of a very popular American independent film: the director candidly explained that he killed off a child character as a “device” to advance the plot.  That is morbid and vile; it makes me sick.

And like the painter or sculptor, I personally operate camera on my films.  The camera becomes my brush, my chisel.  I believe the camera is an extension of the filmmaker him/herself.  It is the filmmaker’s eyes and expresses their perspective, values, and personality.  Even a static camera, like Yasujiro Ozu’s, speaks volumes.  Why does it not move?  What is included in the frame?  What is not included?  It is an extension of the filmmaker.

The camera can therefore be an expressive tool.  I wish more filmmakers would break free from the conventional rules of “coverage” and “film grammar,” the stuff in textbooks.  I’m not advocating ignorance; I believe a sound knowledge of cinema history is necessary; however, adherence to conventional structure and form without intent is itself ignorance.  How many more dialogue scenes must we watch in shot-reverse-shot?  How many more films will end with a skyward crane shot?

My need to operate camera is not about control; it’s about involvement, response, expression.  My aim is to fully immerse myself into the moment and respond to the environment and the performance with my camera.  Framing and focus is in direct response to the life unfolding before me, its energy, mood, disposition.  Sure, I may previsualize a bit and make a shot list; however, I ultimately want to approach the scene with a blank canvas, tabula rasa.  It is a mixture of discipline and play: years of photographic composition enables me to tumble, skip and dance with intent.

Please take a look at Fade to Red and let me know what you think.  It’s not perfect, nor is it technically ambitious.  It simply is what it is: a painfully intimate portrait.

- Christopher J. Boghosian