It's madness to think how fast the week has gone. Friday, and I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake up. An informal study I've been conducting via highly advanced methods of verbal interaction (having a conversation, some call it) seems to indicate most filmmakers here, including myself, are averaging two to three hours sleep per night. Adrenalin and duty fill in the blanks. And lots of crack. Just kidding. It's easy to forget this is work. Pleasurable, but work. The parties. The screenings. The opinions. Your opinion (what did you really think of the film?). Having your voice heard and finding others who might harmonize with it. While we were at a party the other night, adorable and hard-working Like Crazy production designer Katie Byron told me, “It's hard being social like this. I just plan on being discovered for my creative genius.” She winked, and I was right there with her. We all wish it could be like that. In the meantime, let's get social.
Monday, I saw The Woods with Like Crazy editor Jonathan Alberts and composer Dustin. We sat in the balcony of the Egyptian, laughing, along with rest of the crowd. The film's cast and crew is comprised mostly of people I know from Chapman University or my music-video-directing days (www.jurassictechnology.com). The movie is satirical, colorful and funny. Far from your typical narrative, the film plays half-documentary, half-music video. While this film will almost definitely not get picked up (blame its aloof attitude toward anything to quench a mainstream appetite), I foresee a very successful self-release and cultish following in the future of The Woods.
Tuesday included an 11:30 a.m. Like Crazy screening at the Library. Great Q&A. For the first time, I got a chance to step up to the mic and answer a few questions. Generally, Drake fields the questions unless they are directed at someone else specifically. One woman in the audience was called upon and began to ask a question . . . then stopped. “I'm sorry. I'm trying . . .” She began to cry. My insides shrunk, and my eyes moistened. I looked at Drake; we were both fighting it. It occurred to me how amazing it would be if the entire theater suddenly let go and burst into tears. Even now as I'm writing this, my eyes carry water. She asked her question. I don't even remember what it was. Really doesn't matter. Connection was made. Communication. Emotion. Love. I'll never forget that moment for the rest of my life.
Later at the Filmmaker's Lounge, I met up with my friend Deenah. We met at Sundance last year, and I had seen the 25-year-old New Yorker (who also writes for The New Yorker) several times throughout the past year. It's mind-bending to be in the same room in which we met exactly one year previous. Soon, The Woods crew showed up. Team Crazy was also in attendance, but I found myself looking for a change of scenery and atmosphere. After a few drinks, “Woodsman” and Chapman buddy Brian Davila and I played pied pipers and led the group to a house party we had heard was happening. I left Team Crazy behind, not realizing at the time I would not see Dustin again for a while, as he lives in Berlin. Got to go visit. Adios, new great friend!