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

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The opening of the film needs revamping.

Seems simple enough, but I’ve been living with the sample for a year-and-a-half now and it’s hard to let go of what I had.

It used to open with my shadow moving along a sidewalk when suddenly a tiny hand comes into frame, which is grabbed by my larger hand coming from off-frame. The small hand belongs to a young girl of about 2 years-old, my daughter Lucy, who stares up at the camera with total delight. She walks along for a good 10 seconds in silence and finally says in a singsong voice, “I like when you videotape me.” “You do?” asks my voice from behind the camera. “I like when I see myself on tv.” “How come you like it so much?” “Because I can see how I look, rather than just looking in a mirror. And then I can see it again on tape. That’s what’s so good about when you videotape me.” Then, as if on cue, she lets go of the hand and runs off down the sidewalk.

It’s very cute. Never fails to get a laugh from the audience.

Cut to Lucy waving at her image on a tv screen, transfixed by seeing herself endlessly repeated in a video feedback loop. The music is haunting and the shot stays with you long after it ends.

When Lucy appears 10 minutes later (and suddenly 4 years older) to comment on the role of computers in her life (“Now I like computers even more than television”), her innocence is a powerful contrast to Justin’s cyber antics.

Well, say goodbye to that opening. Oh, Lucy will be there, and hopefully still make a strong impact, but she can’t begin the film.

Because it’s not her story. It’s mine.

I don’t say this casually. It’s taken a long time to realize the film is not about my being a parent. It’s not about being a documentary filmmaker, either. It’s not about what I’ve done but about who I am.

That’s why it’s so hard. It’s easy to hide behind a cute kid, and it’s easy to hide behind my accomplishments, but it’s tough to dig deeper and just be a regular ol’ shmo.

For almost two weeks now I’ve let the comments from the rough cut screening rattle around my brain and settle uneasily in the pit of my stomach. Getting a roomful of strong opinions at the same moment that you’re reacting to seeing the first version of your film in its entirety is not the wisest move. O fellow producers, do not follow my path for it surely doth lead to many daze of indigestion and confusion.

Anyway, I think I’ve finally absorbed the gist of it -- the need to establish myself (and my journey) more clearly right up front and not lose track of it in the second half of the film after Justin settles in San Francisco. I’m letting other reactions float away.

And digging deeper.

It’s about a journey. But why do I need to go on it? What inner conflict is being played out?

This I’m clear about: it’s a midlife thing. Not necessarily a crisis. It’s about being 43 and established in my work and settled in my home life and feeling a certain itch. It’s not as dramatic as leaving the wife and kiddies for a younger babe, or having a sudden revelation that life is meaningless. No thunderclap.

All I know is I got on the Web and embraced it. Spent hours and hours up to the wee hours hitting the links, surfing the personal home pages.

What was I looking for? Bobo? To an extent, I suppose, but Bobo is unattainable by definition.

Interaction? Then why did I just lurk and not e-mail even those whose pages I admired?

Attention? Then why didn’t I have any desire to create my own home page?

A forum for ranting and raving? Likewise, that would come later.

Deeper...

The site that made my inner soul vibrate was Julie Petersen’s Awaken, where she writes: “I’ve had enough experiences on the Web to convince me that something is waiting for us out here. Something is drawing us together, if only our need for each other, our need to understand what is happening to us, our need to undo the mystery of life.”

That’s what the Web held out for me then. The promise that if you dug deeply enough, hit enough links, made the right connections, it would lead to that person, that point-of-view, that slice of human experience that would somehow make sense of things. And to be part of a shared experience.

So that’s my starting point for the film. Me at midlife. Just on the Web. Surfing madly. Looking for something I can’t explain, but it’s something BIG. Hoping to make the magic connection that will explain things. Explain the Web. Explain the future. Explain why having it all isn’t enough. Explain why what we have is never enough. Explain why everything is going so fast. Explain the unexplainable.

And then meeting Justin.

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