Like Brothers

by Mark Duplass

  (This is the crying part. You don’t need to see this.)

  As we walked back to the car, we switched the conversation to something easier. I can’t remember what it was about, but it definitely allowed us to analyze something outside of ourselves. Maybe even allowed us to be a little superficial and catty about something or someone. A chat that clearly placed the two of us together against the world, so we could feel that comfort of being fully aligned with each other like we were when we were little, together in the same twin bed.

  THIS ONE IS really simple.

  BUY THE KIA!

  OR THE HYUNDAI!!

  Or whatever the version of this car is whenever you read this stupid chapter.

  Because these cars are extremely well made.

  They are the cheapest on the market.

  They come with 100,000-mile and ten-year warranties (as opposed to many others that are less than half that amount).

  Anything more than this is vanity.

  Save your money for a rainy day.

  Moving on!

  This message is brought to you by Nick Kroll.

  WHEN WE GO to film festivals and meet aspiring filmmakers, we get one question more than any other:

  “How do you make it in this brutal fucking business?”

  Some use much worse language. While we have no definitive answer for this question, we remember all too well that feeling of “I am inspired and full of weird magic and I feel like I’m probably going to die before I get a chance to share it with the world because no one can hear me.” And we get it. That’s how we felt. It’s where we came from. So, not to get all Tony Robbins up in here, but we are going to get a little bit Tony Robbins and guide you through a process of how to get somewhere when you’re coming from nowhere. Again, it’s not the only way to get there. It’s just reflective of the way we got there, and frankly it’s the only way we know how to do it. The good news is you don’t need connections or nepotism with this path…you just need to be desperately driven, hardworking, and honest with yourself. And while this example pertains to filmmaking, we suppose you could extrapolate it to other fields (except maybe professional curling). It begins with a simple acknowledgment:

  THE CAVALRY ISN’T COMING.

  If we were Tony Robbins, we’d call it a catchphrase. Even look you in the eyes with a serial killer’s all-knowing intent and repeat it. But we’re not Tony. So we just gave it its own paragraph. And we centered it.

  But it’s an important point. You are on your own in this industry. And while we have all heard the story of “the girl whose cousin was in the mail room at Warner Bros. and she slipped him her script and he slipped it to his boss who got it to a development exec there who flipped for it and handed it to her boss and that girl sold her first script for $1 million,” the truth is, that shit never happens. Okay, maybe once in a super-rare while. But it didn’t happen to us. And it probably won’t happen to you. So forget about that. That is the cavalry. And the cavalry isn’t coming. What do you do instead? Funny you should ask. We have a step-by-step process for you. Tony…take it away!

  STEP 1: THE $5 SHORT FILM

  Make as many of these as possible, on weekends, with your friends as cast and crew. Use your iPhone camera if that’s all you have. Surround yourself with smart, nice people. They don’t have to be professional filmmakers (our $3 short film This Is John, which got into Sundance, was about as nonprofessional as it gets). Start making five-minute short films that are composed solely of one long scene, starring just two people, set in a single location. Focus only on the story and the performances for now. This singularity of focus will help you distill what you are good at without being overwhelmed by the normal distractions of more complex filmmaking.

  Now, if you’re anything like us, this first short film will suck. Badly. Some people make a great one right out of the gate. We were not so lucky. Or talented. We suffered many years of bad filmmaking before we made something watchable. But this is okay.

  When you are finished with this short, show it to a group of your most honest friends. The ones who aren’t afraid to tell you what they really think. Chances are, four minutes and fifty-eight seconds of that short are absolute garbage. But there may be a few inspired seconds of footage in there that one of your friends points out. Focus on those moments. Throw the rest out. Make another short the next weekend. Maybe that one is a little better. Throw out the garbage. Make another one.

  And keep going until you make something that feels uniquely like you. Most likely, the tone of the film you’re trying to make will have something to do with those intimate, specific late-night conversations you have with a friend or loved one, laughing or crying about something deeply personal. Some would call that your “vision.” We would call it your juice. Actually, that sounds disgusting when we write it out. Whatever. Point is, do not stop until you’ve made an inspired five-minute short (ideally comedic, as film festivals like to program comedic shorts under five minutes). It doesn’t have to be pretty. Or polished. Or “professional.” It just has to have a spark of truth and originality to it. You’ll know it when you’ve made it. If you have to ask if it’s good enough, it’s definitely not good enough. Go make another one.

  STEP 2: FILM FESTIVALS

  While you were making your short films on the weekends, you were working hard at a day job and saving all of your money. You were not eating dinners out. You were borrowing your friend’s Netflix password. You were sharing a shitty apartment with way too many other broke-ass people so that you could keep rent at a bare minimum. Let’s face it, you have to live cheaply for a long time if you really want to make a go of this career. You have to save for the times when you’ll be making movies and not making money. This is one of those times. And the money you have saved will be spent mostly on film festival application fees for your inspired but cheap-as-hell-looking new short film. You should enter it into every film festival that seems decent. Look online for lists of the most prominent (they change constantly). And when you are accepted to a slew of them (and you will be) you have to travel there whenever possible. Sometimes they pay to fly you there, sometimes they don’t. Save some money for flights. Most likely the festival will hook you up with a free place to stay and free food while you’re there. But just to be safe, also try to walk away with a shit-ton of energy bars from a festival sponsor.

  More important, during the period you’re traveling to these festivals, you will be writing your feature-length script. It’s important that this script have a similar tone and feel to your short. You want people who liked your short to see how the feature will be a natural extension of that short. This will give them confidence to come help you make your movie. And how are you going to get the money to make this feature? Simple. You will pay for it yourself. You will not wait for anyone to give you money. Because you’ll wait forever. You will write this feature using the principles of what we call the “available materials” school of filmmaking. That means that this script should have no more than two or three main characters, be easy and cheap to shoot, and be written specifically to utilize the things you have at your disposal. Does your friend’s dad own a broken four-wheeler? Great! Write it in. Your mom works at a local diner? Write it in (shoot after hours). Also at your apartment, your friends’ apartments, that park nearby where you can shoot at night without permits and no one will notice. You get the picture. This movie should also be shot on your iPhone or a similar cheap camera, using no-name actors and a tiny crew of friends. It should cost no more than $1,000 of your hard-earned savings. And it should have a similar vibe to that $5 short film you made that everyone is loving. And please don’t scoff at the iPhone as camera. Our movie Tangerine was shot on an iPhone (look it up to see an example of how far a movie shot like this can go).

  And at the end of six months of traveling around in support of your short film (in between coming home and still
working that day job), you will be connected with a ton of film festivals, you will have bonded with other filmmakers who are willing to work with you on your new project for free, and you will go into production on your first feature film.

  STEP 3: THE $1,000 FEATURE FILM

  This one will likely hurt a little bit. Your friends may get a little tired of doing you favors by working for free. They know the “backend” you are offering is likely not going to amount to anything because the movie most likely won’t sell. They may even want to go off and make their own movies. You will also struggle personally. You’ll have to take off work for a few weeks to shoot it (you may even lose your day job and have to find a new one when you wrap your film). You will be doing soooooo many jobs on set yourself. Sleep will be…you might not sleep a lot. But if you follow that spirit of your first $5 short film, you will most likely make something that is a bit flawed (it’s your first feature!) but inspired and showing a ton of promise. You very well might go to Sundance and sell it for $1 million. In which case…congrats! We are jealous and we hate you! You did it so quickly and so much better than we did it.

  If not, never fear. It just means that you are a human being. The good news is, even though you didn’t get into Sundance with this one, your film has its merits; the film festivals you played with your previous short film remember you and loved hanging with you on your last tour, so they may program your feature. And because very few feature films each year actually work well as a ninety-minute piece, you will likely generate some buzz and get an agent from this $1,000 feature film. And this agent will tell you that he can’t wait for you to come to L.A. and take a bunch of general meetings. To put you up for directing gigs. In short, he will tell you that THE CAVALRY IS COMING! And it might…but mostly likely it won’t. Most likely you’ll have a well-reviewed small movie that no one bought or maybe got some small distribution but didn’t get you paid. And this will feel like a bit of a letdown.

  But you are smart. And you are determined. You know that at these film festivals there are always five to ten movie stars there supporting their bigger-budgeted independent movies. So you socialize with them, befriend them, and get them to see your movie. And you tell your agent that they shouldn’t waste their time sending you on general meetings with studios and producers that amount to nothing (remember, make movies, not meetings). You ask them to send a screener of your $1,000 first feature to every single actor represented by your agency who might add “financial value” to your movie. That is, someone who might make buyers want to buy your next movie because that actor’s face on the poster brings in viewers.

  And when you get home from film festival touring with this first $1,000 feature, you will ask for Skype meetings with every single actor who has responded to your movie in a positive way. And during these Skype meetings you will boldly say to these kind-of-famous actors, “We should go make a thousand-dollar feature together.” And most of them will not want to do this with you, because they want to get paid. And they are too used to sitting in trailers on their phones between takes. Which is a bummer but understandable.

  However, you will no doubt eventually find that one actor with whom you connect. It may very well be the guy who has been on a ridiculously terrible network procedural drama for ten years. He may not be the dream cast you have been waiting for. His name may even be Randy Hercules. But Randy Hercules is now rich and doesn’t need money, he is depressed and creatively bereft from his TV show, and when you tell him you want to build a small, personal movie completely around him and collaborate with him to create his dream leading role, he is going to fall in love with you and follow you to the ends of the earth. And now you have just signed a huge TV star to your next movie. Congrats.

  STEP 4: THE $1,000 FEATURE FILM. AGAIN. WITH RANDY HERCULES

  You will get your filmmaker friends to crew one more time for you. Why? Because now you have Randy Hercules. And Randy adds “value” to your movie (a gross term, but we all have to eat, so you should get used to thinking like a producer sometimes). And chances are you will sell this movie for a huge profit. And because communism is an awesome model for an indie film, you will share tons of your backend with your five- or six-person wrecking crew, who have been with you for the past couple of years. At least ten percent for each person. And you will offer Randy maybe twenty percent of the backend, and then secretly ask him to return it so you can share more with the crew, who really need it. And Randy will do it because you inspire him and he wants to feel young and creative again. And he’s rich as balls and doesn’t care about money.

  And when you shoot this movie, you will be more experienced. And you will know how to get that desperate, sad, strange side of Randy to shine onscreen. Everyone will feel it on set. It’ll be hard, but you’ll all know a reward is coming.

  And when you premiere at an even-higher-tier festival, you will sell your movie this time. For no less than $50,000 (because Randy is in it and it’s good) but for possibly as high as $500,000 or even more, because Randy could actually get some unexpected nominations (or his TV show was so big in Germany and Russia that sales to those territories alone are worth a quarter of a million dollars). Either way, you have now paid some money to your crew, and you have made enough to quit your day job for a long while (ideally forever) and travel around with your film. This is a fantastic time. Live it up. You worked hard.

  And now your agent is freaking out again. You know why? Because he knows now that THE CAVALRY IS COMING! He realizes he already said this once, but now he believes that with this movie you no longer have to sweat it out on the self-funded indie scene. He can probably get you real meetings with producers and studios where you can sell your next movie idea. Or even better, get you into TV, where the real money is! And you will be so excited. Because you have worked your ass off. And finally you can relax a little and let the cavalry take you for a ride.

  STEP 5: A SMALL STEP BACK

  This is the time you let your agent take over. And you do end up selling a TV show idea—possibly even with Randy attached to star—to a major network. They pay you pretty well (though not as well as you’d imagined) to write the pilot. And then…you spend a year doing free rewrites for them while they try to make up their minds about what kind of show they want on the air. And you start to realize that as crazy as this sounds, you might have made more money on your tiny Randy Hercules movie than you are making on this TV writing job because of how long it’s taking and how many rewrites they are making you do for free. Even worse, by the end of this rewrite process, you may not even recognize the creative tenor of your show anymore. It may be a shadow of the idea you pitched them. And it will have happened slowly, inch by inch, without you even realizing it. And then neither you nor the network nor Randy will like this show, so they will likely put you into “turnaround.” Which is a place where great ideas go to die.

  This will break you. But just a little. Because you were smart enough to read the tea leaves on where this whole TV show “development” process was headed about six months ago, and you started developing a separate TV show idea on the side. One that worked within the principles of your indie film background (the “available materials” approach). It is something you can shoot an entire episode of on your own dime, with a portion of your profits from the little Randy Hercules movie sale. And you cast Randy’s famous actor friend…Dingleberry Jones…you cast her in this independent TV pilot. (Ms. Jones loved Randy’s movie, wanted to meet, and you guys also hit it off.)

  And when this pilot is done, you tell your agent to send it to every single TV studio in town, especially the smaller, hungry ones that normally can’t compete with the bigwigs. The bigwigs all pass, but a small company makes you an offer to do nine more of these episodes for a full season! The money is not traditionally huge TV money, but it’s a great living. And now you have some extra cash. And you’re making exactly the kind of show you want to make because yo
u have already set the tone with your pilot, and you have final cut on your episodes because you own the show and made it on your own.

  And as you’re working away on your new show, something interesting starts to happen. Your friends who used to crew for you all have great movie ideas of their own. And they want the “$1,000 plus a Randy Hercules–type actor” kit to make their own movie. And though you never planned on being a “producer,” you suddenly find yourself in a position to connect your friends with both money and a name actor because of all the hard work you’ve put in. So you do this. Because you like them as people and want to raise them up. Because it is the right thing to do after all they’ve done for you.

  And because you are a good little communist indie filmmaker, you don’t ask for half of that filmmaker’s backend like most financiers do. You only ask to make your money back and for maybe twenty percent of their profits should they sell the movie. And you let your friends share the remainder of the backend with their crew. So everyone can make rent and have a healthy indie film ecosystem.

  And as you finish making your ten episodes of indie TV, after the trades have commended you for your brash new way of producing television and the industry is getting “hot” on you again, your agent will call you for a heart-to-heart. He will say, “Remember that time I said the cavalry was coming and it didn’t come? And that other time I said it was coming and it didn’t come? Well…now THE CAVALRY IS FUCKING BEATING DOWN YOUR DOOR!” And this time he may be right. Kind of.

  STEP 6: A BIG DECISION

  Here’s the truth. Your agent really does have some genuine-looking opportunities to create something within the Hollywood system now. A movie idea that a studio wants you to rewrite and direct. Or another TV network that would likely buy a pitch from you to develop a new idea with them. But the brutal reality is, even though it feels like that golden cavalry is right there on your doorstep, it really…isn’t. That cavalry is still not coming. Because even if you get that rewrite job, they likely won’t let you make your movie your way. And even if you sell another TV pitch, you could end up in turnaround again. This is a sobering acknowledgment. A true bummer. That dream you have been working toward, of becoming a “successful filmmaker” who gets studio paychecks, is not what you thought it would be.