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

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.

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.

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