|
Past Filmmakers
Fence Dogs
1. How did you come up with the idea for the film?
The creative processes involved in Fence Dogs' conception were nontraditional, to say the least. The script arrived as a result of a series of still photographs taken for a graduate level scriptwriting class project. The method was to take 25-50 random photographs of whatever caught your eye from an aesthetic standpoint, and to bring those images to the next class meeting. These images were then arranged, in no particular order, around the seminar table and examined by the other grad students, who offered their sort of “rorschach” interpretations of storylines, themes, and predominant patterns in the images. My camera—a beaten-up, manual Minolta XG-1—had a light leak and several of my photos showed bright streaks of orange as a result, prompting more than one of my classmates to suggest the fire motif. Along with this, I had a predisposition toward photographing dogs, something about their faces, the emotions they are able to display and evoke in others I find captivating. A lost dog sign on a stone pillar—not used in the film—served as the catalyst for the lost dog idea. And, since the project had begun as an exercise in still photography, I felt it appropriate to remain largely faithful to this style of presentation. So, that's where the story and visual style originated, roughly.
2. How long did the production process take?
Well, the script itself was written primarily in one or two days during the spring of 2003. Having chosen it as my first graduate practicum film project, I began compiling still images over that summer as a means of location scouting, traveling to Seagrove, NC, and Summerfield, NC, and all the far reaches of Guilford Country looking for interesting and appropriate images. The 16mm film footage was shot and Frank's voice recorded in September, and editing took place during October so that Jeff Seelye could have the entire month of November to score the film. The final screening date was in early December, so essentially the bulk of production took me around four months. Bear in mind this was working almost entirely single-handed, with the 16mm photography being the only instance where production assistance was utilized.
3. What challenges did you experience in the creation of the film?
One of the main challenges I encountered was finding a way to tell a compelling story without showing the protagonist. I feared that the audience's inability to connect a face with the voice would jeopardize the narrative's effectiveness, but ultimately the strength of the writing and imagery as well as Frank's interpretation of the character provided more than enough pathos to engage the viewer. Another challenge was finding a visual means for conveying the inner thoughts of a faceless character. I wanted the narrator to come across as entirely sincere, but somehow suggest a more deep-seeded unrest or psychological instability. The brief sound of a match being struck coupled with flashes of fire served as an ideal way to hint at the underlying violence of this seemingly sentimental story.
4. What is your favorite memory from creating the film?
My favorite memory would probably be meeting the narrator, Frank Levering, and recording the voiceover monologue for the film. I felt from the moment we met that he had a very deep sense of understanding for the character, and he was absolutely perfect for the part. The character called for a unique mix of rural naiveté, blue-collar malaise, and articulate sophistication, and Frank was able to capture these complexities perfectly. My only regret is recording it from the bathroom of his office.
5. When someone has finished watching the film, what do you hope they take away from their experience?
My ultimate goal is always to affect the way people think, not just in the short term, the film's duration, but also beyond and separate from the actual viewing. Film is an interesting medium, one in which the viewer is readily willing to interact and project themselves into the narrative, and as a filmmaker I like to challenge my audience to look past the surface details and approach a real dynamic sense of understanding for the characters. A line I hear a lot, which is by design, is: “Was that supposed to be funny? Because I was laughing.” This is the embodiment of what I try to accomplish, to put the viewer through a real range of human emotions—sadness, anger, laughter, confusion—and force them to decide what is funny, what is rhetorical, what is sobering. My stories tend to tread a fine line between tragedy and comedy—I always say that everything I write seems to start out as a comedy, but as I become more and more attached to the character I start to develop a real understanding and empathy for them to the point where I just stop wanting to laugh and want to weep for them instead. Beyond this, though, I hope to have a positive influence on the audience in the long term, aside from their escapist aspirations, and sincerely affect the way they relate to one another on an interpersonal basis. I want people to treat one another better, and with more compassion, and this is ultimately a theme I strive to get across in virtually every instance. Given the hyperviolent, savagely belligerent condition the world is in right now, I guess I'm trying my best to disarm people. After watching Fence Dogs specifically, I would hope that people take away a sense of the common laborer's ever deteriorating place in the American economy, and consider the implications at every level—globally, nationally, regionally, locally, and ultimately on the personal level.
6. What type of reaction has your film received from viewers?
The response to Fence Dogs has been very positive, but again, reactions have been all across the board. Some people find it really entertaining and humorous, while other people find it terribly depressing. Some people find it highly thought provoking, while other people miss the entire story altogether. An interesting thing to do is listen to the lighthearted laughs at the beginning of the film slowly ebb away as people discover that the story itself isn't all that jovial, to the point where you can tell they're almost embarrassed by what they laughed at initially. Most people end up asking me, “so, why'd he set the fire?” The narrative was written with the specific intent of leaving this detail ambiguous, to force the viewer to decide for themselves what his motives were, and I think that's what makes this film interesting to me, the extremely subjective nature of people's experiences and responses to it.
7. What advice would you give to aspiring young filmmakers?
Don't be afraid to incur debt. In order to take risks and produce original work, you'd better be willing to front some cash to put your ideas out into the world because nobody else is likely to foot the bill. The best films, by and large, end up being some of the least profitable. Revolutionary ideas are a tough sell. And if you're in it for the money, I don't want to see your film anyway. Period.
8. Please tell us about the next film you plan to work on.
The next film I plan to make is called Arrowhead, and will be in the 20-30 minute range for my Graduate thesis. It is still in the formative stages, but it will hinge upon the discovery of an arrowhead in the soil by two friends and the subsequent jostling for possession of the artifact. Though it will be set in present-day, it is meant to serve as a parable for the country's formation, loosely mirroring the turbulent relationship between early American settlers and indigenous Native Americans.
9. What are your thoughts on the film industry in NC?
I see North Carolina as a state poised to make a significant impact in the film industry very soon. The resources and infrastructure are already here and more or less established, and North Carolina has some of the most ecologically diverse locations of any state in the country. The increasing number of film students in the state also is encouraging and hopefully will help to disrupt the traditional New York or Los Angeles trajectory of most aspiring filmmakers. The emergence of the Full Frame Film Festival as a premier festival venue can't hurt, either.
|
