The D-Word's life is one of glamour and riches, as only a documentary filmmaker can live it

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Press kits always include a short director’s statement, where we make humble or audacious remarks about what we’ve created and are about to set loose on the world. It seems only fitting that I write mine as a journal entry and post it online, since my Web journal, The D-Word (www.d-word.com), has been such a crucial component in the process of making Home Page.

When I first set out, camera in hand, to explore my newfound fascination with the Web, I didn’t expect to turn the camera around on myself. I figured I’d have a presence in the film, but I didn’t forsee Home Page as my own personal journey. I thought I was capturing Justin’s journey and was simply going along for the ride.

As we began editing the stories of Justin and Carl and Julie, I gradually started to use The D-Word as a forum to publicly ruminate on and thrash out the various themes that were starting to emerge. I wasn’t expecting any specific result from this. It was partly a way of experiencing what my celebrated cast of online diarists go through. And it was partly an experiment in Web process, which means being open to whatever happens (which is not incompatible, I might add, with the process of making a documentary).

What happened was that the feedback I received from The D-Word clearly affected the course of the film, and certainly influenced its veering in a more serious and personal direction.

In one key scene, Carl states that everyone goes online “looking for Bobo... that person that makes it all okay.” Well, once it became clear to me and my editor, Debbie Rosenberg, that the overriding theme of the film was the search for personal intimacy, we knew Home Page would have to include the viewpoint of my own real-life Bobo.

I didn't interview my wife for the film until late in the editing (tellingly, to that point she was hardly in it at all). It turned into an intensely emotional interaction which, as her husband, was personally cathartic but, as the director, I wasn't quite sure what to make of or what others would make of.

With Marjorie’s permission, I wrote about the experience as a journal entry and excerpted part of the transcript of the interview (though not necessarily the part used in the film). The act of writing up the account encouraged me to work through and share my feelings for her publicly.

That entry elicited the best response of any I've ever posted. A number of people -- including Justin -- e-mailed to say they found it exceptionally compelling and revealing (which I take to mean that while they may like reading about the filmmaking process, D-Word readers -- like audiences in general -- prefer old-fashioned, personal melodrama). The response confirmed how central our relationship was to the film and freed me to make the film more personal. Through this feedback loop I found the emotional core of my story.

It also helped me to fall in love with my wife all over again.

My special gratitude goes to Debbie, my extraordinary collaborator. For much of the 18 months of editing, she worked alone into the wee hours of the night shaping and reshaping scenes, while I worked alone into the wee hours writing and tinkering with The D-Word. Like me, she didn’t always understand why I was spending so much time obsessing over my Net musings, but she trusted me and trusted that the process would lead to something worthwhile.

Web denizens I respect have praised the Home Page/D-Word synergy as some sort of landmark example of cross-platform media convergence. It’s flattering, don’t get me wrong, and, hell, they may even be right. But I recognize that the process of making the film and the film itself are two different things. Home Page was always meant to stand alone as a story, and I certainly think it should be judged by what’s on the screen.

That said, I do hope people will flock to The D-Word after seeing the film (or even before they see it). There, along with the journal, they’ll be redirected to the pioneering sites of the people we follow in the film, catch up on all that’s happened with them, be able to e-mail them and discuss their reactions to the film and the issues it raises.

That kind of interactivity between a film’s cast and its audience is absolutely brand-spanking new and, since I’m part of the cast, it’s a thrilling and somewhat daunting prospect. I could be flooded with e-mail or I could be totally ignored, and I don’t know which is better (or worse).

The Web changes with mindbending speed, but it’s still in its infancy and much about it remains uncharted territory, particularly in the realm of social consequences. All I know is that, by being open to its possibilities, it’s been a tremendous tool for my growth as an artist and individual and for expanding and deepening my human connections.

The film is finished but my personal journey continues...

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