27 April 1999 Copyright, 1999, Max K. Goff, all rights reserved
To my way of thinking, there is no experience in life better than working on a film. I once again had that experience this past weekend -- something I've longed to do for too many years finally happened again, and I'm still elated from those few precious hours spent so engaged. The actor in me was satisfied -- no, satiated by the joy of working with a crew of young, energetic, professional film makers. I only wish I could do such work more often.By far the biggest motivater for me to move back to New York in the first place was to revisit my career as an actor. While I spent most of my 20s as a struggling thespian in Manhattan, I walked away from that life when enjoined the computer industry in earnest in 1983, and sealed that path by getting married and assuming responsibility for the well being of other people the following year. But there wasn't a year that went by when I didn't miss being an actor; the actual work of acting, I mean. Not necessarily the struggle, the rejection, the despair of that path. I didn't miss that at all. But I did miss the joy of doing, of acting.
When Sun offered me a job in late 1993, around the time I received my MBA and my divorce was final, it occurred to me then that I should move back to New York -- and even considered doing so. But the offer from Sun and the fact that it was Sun Microsystems, a company that I held in very high esteem, made it difficult for me to consider anything but their offer at that time, which included a move to Colorado Springs. The ultimate move to Manhattan would have to be postponed for a few more years yet. And while I did manage to keep busy with creative endeavors outside of work in the Springs (I have also been a bit of an amateur musician and song writer at times), the very idea of becoming an actor again was ultimately too compelling for me to resist. When the opportunity arose in late 1997 to actually move east for Sun, I did everything I could to ensure that my ticket would take me to New York; not Boston, not Denver, not San Francisco. New York. Because it was the actor in me that needed to breathe once again.
The past year and a half have been great here in New York. I've managed to get my union cards back, I'm represented by an agent, I have an occasional manager, I send out head shots on a regular basis, and I am even lucky enough to get an audition once in a while. Last December I shot that pilot for Star-TV, which was a great experience and a bit of a validation. But it was this past weekend that was the most convincing validation I've had as an actor to date -- including the work I did in my 20s.
The film is called "Lynn's Wake." That, at least, is the working title. It may end up being the actual title, but you never know. "Lynn's Wake" was the title of the script we shot. It's an independent film, being produced by two sisters out of Pennsylvania, both of whom are employed in the film industry in support capacities. Their dream was to become film makers in their own right. So they wrote a decent script for a short film, one that might make a good candidate for film festivals, they raised the money to shoot it on a relatively low budget, and then they set about making it real. Part of that process was auditioning actors for the lead roles.
I must have mailed them a head shot from an ad in Backstage, which I am wont to do. During the initial audition and the callback, I was under the impression it was a student film since the auditions were being held in one of the NYU buildings. It wasn't until the first rehearsal that I learned that it wasn't a student film at all, but a short independent film. I was elated. Not that I wouldn't have been excited to work on a student film. As long as a project has SAG approval (the screen actor's union), I'm glad to be a part of it. But an independent is just that much better. So I was thrilled. And fascinated by the realization that because I thought it was a student film, I put less pressure on myself during the auditions. I was auditioning for myself, for the experience of auditioning. And that approach was successful, as I got the part.
My scenes were shot, as was most of the rest of the film, on location in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Mine was a small role, but a lead role. The film is about a young woman, Lynn, who we learn has lost her daughter in a drowning accident. Lynn finds resolution finally by her association with an older neighbor woman. Lynn is a sensitive artist who is living with her brother, Gary. Self-absorbed and alone since his wife left with the children, Gary has a difficult time relating to his sister's need for healing. That's the part I won, the role of Gary.
Making a film is an exercise in patience. As an actor, you get into costume and makeup, make sure you have your lines down as well as your blocking or actions for a given scene, and then you wait. You wait while the shot is being discussed, while the camera is being set up. You wait while the sound crew work out the details of their job, while the light crew ensures the camera has something interesting to shoot, while the grips and production assistants lay track for moving shots, or dress the set, or simply get coffee and a bagel for the assistant director. There is an air of busy-ness, of chaos, people running madly about in what seems like a random fashion and most of the time it feels like nothing could ever really be accomplished by such a set of processes. And then finally, the clapper marks the scene, "Scene 3, Take 1," the sound woman says, "Speed," meaning the DAT recorder is working, the assistant director says, "Action," and the scene is shot. Everything gets very quiet. Suddenly, you're on. Everyone on the crew is watching you, listening to you, paying close attention to every detail that will ensue in the next 30 seconds to 3 minutes. With held breath and quiet reverence, the scene is shot and for those few seconds life is suspended and film is made. Magic. It is very much like magic.
There is no better experience in life. Oh, well, of course there are better experiences. Having a child, raising a child that makes you proud. Recognizing God in your life. Learning a profound life lesson. These are all "better" experiences. But from the perspective of work; of what we do with our time and our lives, to me there is no better experience than those hours spent making a film. And this past weekend, I once again had such an experience. It's why I came back to New York in the first place; a validation of that choice and the years of preparation and struggle. And for a few hours I was a working actor. It felt very good. And who knows? Maybe I'll be headed to Sundance next winter, along with other working actors. You can never tell in the business of entertainment.
So what does this have to do with technology and evangelism? A lot, as it turns out.
Digital technology is having a tremendous impact on show business. Just as the computer has made it possible for very high quality home recording studios, thus democratizing the recording (and distribution) industry, digital technology will have a similar impact on the production of "films," or those things we refer to as films. One fellow on the set was telling me about a booth he saw at a recent trade show for film industry techies, comparing the costs of shooting 7 minutes of film in 35mm, which is today's standard for movie theaters, with the costs of shooting the same 7 minutes in digital video. All else being equal, the costs of the 35mm shoot is in the neighborhood of $7,000. The costs for digital: $70. Two orders of magnitude difference! And incredible comparison. What will be the result as more digital cameras begin to capture moving images, as more digital post production processes are employed, as digital distribution moves from the concept stage to reality? Lower barriers for entry for film makers. Much lower. Anyone with a vision and a few thousand dollars will be able to realize their dream. Making movies will become as easy as producing a high quality recording is today. And compared to 15 years ago, making an album today is simple and cheap.
So, the evangelist in me is thrilled to deliver the message that the actor in me wants to hear: there will be a lot more films made as a result of digital technology. And maybe, just maybe the actor in me will be busier as a result of the work done by the evangelist.
