As 2019 comes to a close in just a few short days, we also close the door on a decade of indie filmmaking. Where were you on January 1st, 2010? Do you remember how you celebrated the New Year? What were your plans for the year to come, did you have goals for the decade in store? Did you achieve them?
Who were you ten years ago?
Who are you now?
If you are like me, remembering what you were doing last week is challenging enough, let alone what you were doing in 2010. But I know I was 27 years old. I would have woken up at home, in my mum’s house, and on that day we would have gone to our cousin’s birthday party – it was a tradition since we were kids. I was in Australia so it was likely hot. I am sure I would have had some shitty day job – delivery driver, telemarketer, factory hand – I’ve had so many shitty jobs I’ve lost track long ago.
I was already a filmmaker. In February 2010, I would wrap my first feature as a director, the no-budget gross out comedy Dace Decklan: Private Eye. Tarantino would debut with Reservoir Dogs in 1992, a touchstone in indie cinema, while Sam Mendes would win an Oscar for American Beauty in 1999, his first film. Dace is my debut. I don’t regret it, though I don’t think I could watch it sober today.
Read MoreA few weeks before I left for Rome for a festival screening of my film, my new company had been extremely busy putting together two applications for a local grant. It's been a hectic end of the year, lots of changes such as a move to a new office, while also personally moving home. My business partner Ivan has this saying, which popped up through all the recent chaos: "Value your time more than money.”
I recalled this statement as I wandered around Rome Termini trying to work out where to buy a bus ticket from, while the sweat started to build on my skin due to my layers of clothing. I checked my watch one more time. The plan I had was to arrive at the venue for the screening early to make the most of my day there and meet the organisers with plenty of time to spare. Doors opened at 12pm and it was close to 1.30pm when I was finally on that bus. My film was not screening until 4pm so I still had time but I wanted to be there from the start of the day.
Read MoreMany years ago I was told I should teach film by a friend of mine also in the industry. He wanted to gather a group of local filmmakers in Melbourne and run workshops on camera, lighting, editing, producing. I humoured him but inside I was scared.
What useful knowledge did I have to pass on? What if they asked technical questions? I have never been a computer nerd, a camera geek, or someone obsessed with the specs of gear and to this day I still have a hard time grasping crop factor on different camera sensors. Could I even explain how I produced a film – it just seemed to be stumbling for one hurdle to the next, with no methodology to the madness, getting things over the line via instinct, pestering, perseverance and luck.
How did you teach someone to make everything up on the spot when plans fell through?
Read MoreIt has been just over four months since I started practicing a morning routine. Prior to this period in May, despite not having the Facebook App installed on my phone, I was still one of those addicted people who would check all socials before bed and first thing in the morning. So what, it's not hurting anyone, right? Wrong. It was hurting me, big time.
Even though checking morning and night was on the surface not harming me, when I really delved deeper and thought about what the affects could be I realised that this addiction was messing with my brain, affecting my anxiety levels, stopping my natural thoughts from rolling, and eroding my basic capacity to focus and concentrate. In all it was taking me out of my natural state of existing and telling me that I need a distraction from the moment. And let's not forget the time I will never get back, as it takes a while until you realise “damn, how long have I been scrolling and why? There is nothing worthwhile on here!'
Then you stop. For a while.
Read MoreI'm a godmother to an incredibly smart, knowledgeable, funny and caring four year old boy named Atticus, who, since his kindergarten days, has the ability to hold a conversation and out-talk the most talkative television presenter. He also has a knack for asking 'why' constantly and genuinely seeking a response for his knowledge tank. Atticus has a two year old sister, and when she was born I held her twice before boarding a plane to Europe to chase my dream of being a filmmaker.
Now I label myself the Invisible Godmother. The role of a Godmother is to be in the godchild's life to mould and shape their decisions through wisdom and moral guidance. Being on the other side of the world makes that near impossible, and Skype doesn't cut it. Hence, most days I feel guilty that I am not able to be there for my family.
Read MoreMy fellow filmmakers and writers say that to be struggling and feeling like you are the underdog is the way that the best stories come – when we have something to say, be it rising up from a political injustice or just pouring our heart out though poetry after a messy breakup. Being the ‘starving artist’ fuels your art and gives you a solid and purpose-filled desire to create.
But to accept and perpetuate the label of starving artist can lead to many complications for the art produced as well as for the artist themselves. Your self esteem as well as your mental health suffer. You think your art has no value. You moan and groan and think the world is against you and you become a chore to hang out with.
With this in mind, I decided to list ways to avoid being caught in the trap of labelling yourself a starving artist and instead to start looking at being an artist as not just a positive life choice, but a feasible job occupation, far removed from the damaging label. It is not 'selling out' to make money from your art or to make it clear you want to be paid. You, and your art, deserve it.
Read MoreIn 2019, when filmmaking has long since been revolutionised by digital technology, when movies shot on smartphones open at Sundance, when there are festivals dedicated to vertical filmmaking, and when so many people are making features that the ‘mystique’ of it has long since dissipated, the one area that still seems to hide behind a shroud of secrecy is distribution.
We’ve all heard the adage getting your film made is only half the battle; the real work begins when trying to sell it. Many filmmakers don’t understand the best practices when it comes to distribution, and choose to explore that path only when forced to, and I am prepared to admit that I am one such filmmaker.
Is working with sales agents, producer’s representatives, distributors the most viable method to release a micro-budget feature film? Or is self-distribution the best approach? One year later, after releasing our first micro-budget feature, myself and my partner Sarah Jayne are asking ourselves that very question.
Read MoreNot only did we shoot a feature in a single night. And not only was it entirely improvised (without a script, without a shot list, without regrets), but we decided to do it on the craziest and most chaotic night of the year... New Year’s Eve.
The film is called Friends, Foes & Fireworks and it explores relationships, love, friendship, and the truths we try but fail to keep to ourselves.
We have been asked one question numerous times: “How did you actually manage to shoot this in a single night without a script?”
The second question, often unspoken, but lingering on lips nonetheless is “…and have a story and structure that actually makes sense without a script?”
Read More