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

---

"Revolutionary," I proclaim to Esther. "The D-Word is revolutionary."

She cracks up every time I mention the word, which, of course, only encourages me.

But I'm only half-joking. Quarter-joking, make that. Because the words come not from the chapped lips of Yours Truly but from a legit journalistic source, the Dot.Com column in the Salt Lake Tribune:

"The revolutionary site follows the progress of the film as it was being made, with creative cross-linking that draws the reader into the experience. It is an interactive filmmaking experience unlike any other and a way to learn about filmmaking that, we hope, foreshadows the future."

Ten days at Sundance, seven at Rotterdam and now three here at Cinequest in San Jose- not to mention, twelve screenings- have given me lots of time to ponder the future. And of all the really nice reviews and buzz and attention, Dot's little blurb has been the one that's continued to reverberate around The D-Word's frequently-swelled head these past few weeks.

Revolutionary. Hmmm. An interactive filmmaking experience unlike any other. Hmmm.

Money. Hmmmmmmmmm.

Maybe three years of working on Home Page without a dime of salary has finally taken it's toll. Maybe it's the growing pile of unpaid bills that sit ignored on my desk. Maybe it's the loan from Marjorie hanging over my head (which allowed me to pay my last round of bills). Maybe it's because I'm in the middle of reading Burn Rate. But, yes folks, the D-Word has finally awakened to the concept that there's filthy lucre to me made on the Net... and he wants his fair share of it.

Or, as I tell Justin and Carl and Julie over Chinese last night, everyone's into convergence these days and so am I. I want to converge other people's money with my own pocket.

The three have driven down with a gaggle of friends from San Francisco for the Cinequest screening, and are curious to know what my distribution plans are.

"Well, you're no longer just characters in a film anymore," I inform them. "You're part of an interactive filmmaking experience unlike any other."

"Like it or not," I add.

As I crunch down on a spicy shrimp shell, I toss out my thoughts. This fame stuff is all well and good but a little overrated, I begin. If I'm to get out from under my obligations and make any income at all from Home Page, I've got to get out from under old, tired, outmoded models of distribution. Because, with the occasional exception that proves the rule, there is no successful model for distribution when it comes to documentaries.

The pipedream, of course, is that your doc premieres at some prestigious film festival and an established indie distributor like Sony Pictures Classics or a flush up-and-comer like Artisan swoops in and plunks down, oh, say, a million or so for the honor of getting your film out widely to the panting masses.

Well, the reality is nobody swooped down on Home Page and made it an offer it couldn't refuse. Lots of congrats, lots of "heard really good things about it…" lots of "send me a cassette and I'll take a look…" (especially after Variety predicted rosy days ahead for Home Page's theatrical and broadcast prospects)

The reality is the vhs cassette now sits in the offices of about a dozen smaller distributors, awaiting their keen business judgement about whether they can make a reasonable amount of money on Home Page without spending much money. Naturally, I'm confident they can (particularly if they focus on cities with thriving online communities, like San Francisco, Austin and Seattle). But whether they get it out to five cities or fifty, without the means to blow it up to 35mm it's not gonna get out to a multiplex near u, that's for durned sure.

Which I'm okay about. Really. I'm bothered more by what some (not all) of these distributors want in return, without offering any advance or guarantees: namely, U.S. television rights, home video rights and, in a few cases, even foreign television rights.

So for the honor and glory of a few theatrical openings, I essentially give away a hefty portion of my already meager ancillary income.

Justin asks the restaurant owner for the recipe to the delicious steamed fish dish, but she'll only give it to him if he eats the entire fish head first.

"Take home video, for example," I say, as Justin munches on the squishy brains. Why should I let someone take 80% so they can sell maybe 100 copies to schools and libraries? Or, worse yet, throw it up on their website which gets zero traffic and relies on the years of work we've already done on the Web?

Carl and Julie eye Justin squeamishly as my revolutionary fervor mounts.

No, no, no, I bray, my clenched fist rising in the air. The Web is about eliminating the middleman. It's about e-commerce. We can do our own direct marketing. Get links from large community Web sites that give away free home pages. Link to a supplier who fulfills the orders as they come in. We can sell the videos directly and make documentary distribution history, in the process! This is an interactive filmmaking experience like no other, for cryin' out loud!!!

There's a long silence.

"No more than $14.99 tops," Justin says at last, casually chewing on the fish eyeballs.

"If it's more than a CD nobody'll buy it," Carl agrees. Julie nods her head vigorously.

Settled. Subject to change, of course.

That night, at a hotel room in the heart of Silicon Valley, The D-Word sleeps peacefully, dreaming of steamed fish heads lying on crunchy leaves of green.

Previous:
Next:
Newest:
Archives