Making movies isn’t what you do, it’s who you are.
Ed Burns offers up some of tough love and hard won wisdom in Independent Ed, a memoir detailing how he mastered the micro-budget.
Embrace rejection…
I made eleven movies in twenty years, and half were considered failures. They either didn’t find an audience or they got terrible reviews or both.
Go into each project knowing it might not work and that’s okay. See those failures through and learn from them. Then do like Burns and make the next one.
By the time they passed on the project, I had already finished the first draft of my next script.
Remember why you do it.
Through triumphs, setbacks and the glittering temptation to sell-out, Burns grounded himself by returning to the films that got him into filmmaking.
Sometimes you’ve got to ignore the money and get back to why you got into this business to begin with. In most cases you got bit after seeing something like Nicholson in Chinatown or Pacino in Dog Day Afternoon. I’ve yet to meet an actor, writer, or director who decided to get into the movie business after hearing how much Schwarzenager got paid to do Kindergarten Cop.
You can’t do the arts alone, you need your friends and mentors. The most reliable ones are to be found at your local library or on Netflix.
Make your own rules (and live by them.)
Burns found his place in American cinema making films on micro-budgets. As success and green lights came his way, he chose to keep his movies small rather than cede control to the suits and studios. He details how to self-finance a feature film for $25,000 in a manifesto he calls the “McMullen 2.0 rules”
We would shoot no more than 12 days.
We would use a three to five-man crew.
All locations had to be secured for free.
We would hire unknown actors who would be willing to wear their own clothes and do their own hair and makeup.
What are your rules? How can you turn your limitations into strengths? How can you turn your limitations into your style?
Have the 12 greatest days of your life
Following a crushing series of rejections of his first film, including his hometown Long Island Film Festival, Burns was, in his words, “a pissed off angry young man.” His father took him out for a beer and a talking-to that would become his mantra.
“After you finished shooting your film, do you remember what you said to me? You told me, ‘shooting Brothers McMullen was the twelve greatest days of my life.'”
“and they were,” I said.
“Well, did you make the film because you wanted to become rich and famous?”
I shook my head.
“Did you make the film because you wanted to go out to Hollywood, chase girls, and be an asshole?”
No.
“Then stop complaining, sit down, and write another screenplay.” He said. “We’ll figure out a way to get you another twenty-five thousand dollars and get you another twelve days. We’ll keep grabbing those twelve days every couple of years until this thing does happen for you.”
Get your twelve days, or thirty days, whatever you need. Do what you gotta do. For some of us that’s teaching English in a country where you can live large on a part-time salary, for others that’s seasonal labor, like fishing 18 hour shifts for a few weeks, or simply waking up a little earlier to work before your day job. Make the time, earn the time, steal the time to make it happen.
