Movies on a Big Screen…the blog!

Yowza! Here’s yet another cool filmmaker interview by Galen Howard! Yes, I realize it’s been nothing but filmmaker interviews lately, but we’ll be mixing it up more soon. Yep, “soon.” But don’t misunderstand – these great interviews will also keep showing up!!

And now – please read this next installment of Microcinema Spotlight with Galen Howard, this time interviewing Aaron Marshall, director of Zombie Girl: The Movie, a documentary on the making of the zombie film, Pathogen — which was produced, written and directed by 12 year old Emily Hagins. It also seems like a good time to mention that Zombie Girl was just picked up for distribution on DVD – and the release will also feature Pathogen! You might want to keep checking http://www.zombiegirlthemovie.com or for even more timely info, “Like” the doc on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/zombiegirlthemovie

Those of the DIY filmmaking school of thought may have a poster child in young Austin, Texas director Emily Hagins, the subject of the documentary Zombie Girl: The Movie. At age 12, Hagins directed her first feature-length film, the $7,000 zombie picture Pathogen. Directors Aaron Marshall, Justin Johnson and Erik Mauck followed Emily from pre-production in 2004 to Pathogen‘s premiere in 2006, as she dealt with production setbacks, inevitable learning curves and her relationship with her mother and primary crew-member, Megan Hagins. While playfully acknowledging the novelty of its premise, the film continually offers insights into the evolving relationship of parent and child. Aaron Marshall discusses his own process in making this unique take on low-budget filmmaking and coming-of-age landmarks.

Galen Howard: What is your filmmaking background? How old were you when you became interested in filmmaking?

Aaron Marshall: I went to film school at the University of Texas. I spent a few years directing short films and working as an editor in Austin before moving to Los Angeles to finish the postproduction on Zombie Girl and focus on screenwriting. I started making movies when I was in high school, which is one of the reasons I was drawn to what Emily was doing.

GH: How did you first become aware of Emily Hagins and her zombie film?

AM: We were living in Austin (where Emily lives) and saw the casting call she posted online for her auditions. It read something like, “Looking for 12-15 year-olds for a zombie movie directed by a 12-year-old girl.” That right there was already about the coolest logline for a movie we’d ever heard, so we called her parents and within a week, we were following Emily around.

GH: Emily’s gender undeniably distinguishes her story as much as does her age. How do you think this factor manifested in her process and final product?

AM: For Emily, I think it’s a non-issue. She’s just making the movies she loves to make and doesn’t think twice about whether girls are “supposed” to be into those kinds of films or not. But in the bigger picture, the film world tends to be a bit of a boys club, so the fact that a girl is charging in and ripping down those barriers is pretty awesome.

GH: Having followed Emily during the film, what about her qualities and surrounding conditions do you think enabled her to take on such a large undertaking at such a young age?

AM: Emily definitely had a vision for her film and a determination to do whatever she could to get the finished product as close that vision as possible. That drive helped get her through all the bumps and setbacks she encountered along the way.

But the support of her family also played a key role in allowing her to push through and make Pathogen. If they hadn’t been willing to give her the encouragement and support they did, she would have had a much more difficult time pulling it off. I mean, she was 12. She couldn’t even drive yet!

GH: At what point did you realize your film was as much about Emily and her mother as it was about Emily and her movie? How did you weave together these parallel stories in the editing process?

AM: I think it just naturally occurred as we got to know them better and saw how much of a team they were. They were side-by-side, working together for most of the project, so it wasn’t an element that had to be artificially woven together during editing. From a post-production filmmaking sense, it just came down to striking a balance in the editing between showing Emily’s film production, getting to know her and her family, and exploring the other topics we found interesting, such as the proliferation of digital technology that made it all possible.

GH: As a fellow filmmaker was it ever difficult to remain a silent observer during the process?

AM: Being filmmakers, ourselves, presented a unique set of challenges. It was important for us to remain objective in our storytelling and not let our knowledge pollute Emily’s experience. We employed a “fly on the wall” technique as much as possible to allow Emily to grow and learn on her own. Though it was hard to sit back and watch moments where things went wrong on the set, it was worth it to see Emily learn, make changes, and then get things to turn out right the next time.

Even in the construction of the film, we tried to keep our presence to a minimum. There is no voice over. Instead, we taped candid interviews with Emily and others every day so that their own voices told the story as it happened. This gives it a more immediate feel and draws you into the world of the story, almost as if it were a narrative film.

GH: How has Emily and her family responded to the documentary?

AM: We were nervous when we took it to their house and showed them the film for the first time. Luckily, they really got into the movie and have embraced it 100 percent. Emily and her family have even been able to accompany us to many of the film festivals, where Emily is always a big hit at the Q & As.

GH: Despite the film’s content, I think it could be a great discussion piece for parents and educators. Have you gotten many responses from either of these groups?

AM: Definitely. At Hot Docs, we had a screening filled with middle schoolers and high schoolers and got lots of great questions about filmmaking afterwards. And at the Mill Valley Film Festival, we went to a Jr. High School to discuss moviemaking with the kids. I think a few of them even set out to make their own zombie films after that!

GH: Do you think you’d ever film any follow-up piece on Emily as she continues her filmmaking career?

AM: We popped in on the set while she was filming her second movie and will always keep in touch.

GH: Has the exposure from your film helped Emily advance her career in any way so far?

AM: If anything, it has let others with similar interests know about her, so they can gravitate to one another. On her second film, and on the new movie she’s shooting right now, she’s been able to put together a full crew.

Well, good ol’ MOBSblog got a bit sick there for a bit… but it’s all better now. However, this should have been posted a few weeks ago, so the reference to The Romantic playing this Sunday is no longer correct — we already showed it. This is still an amazing interview with writer/director Michael Heneghan! If you missed it when we screened it, you’ll definitely want to catch it when it becomes available. And now…

The world of film distribution and exhibition seems to be as harsh and loveless a place for The Romantic as the fantasy world depicted in that film. This Sunday, MOBS will be among the small handful of venues to have screened the animated feature since its completion last year. The Romantic lets the audience fend for itself as genres blend, archetypes warp and the artfully crude animation style (reminiscent of Gerald Scarfe) frames this allegory on religion and the absence of myth in modern culture. While it could easily claim the title for the year’s best no budget animated feature (literally), The Romantic stands apart as a return to adult-geared animation that doesn’t sacrifice intellect for entertainment.

Galen Howard: What is your animation background?

Michael Heneghan: I graduated from the University of the Arts (Uarts) in 2006. While there I made a half dozen or so short films, mostly in stop motion (puppet) animation. The Romantic started as a twelve minute senior thesis project at Uarts, which grew and grew until the idea eventually warranted a feature length film. So I made an abridged version of the 1st act and animated that for my senior project, with a kind of “to be continued…” ending. Then when I graduated I gathered up some friends and turned it into a feature, which brings us up to the present: one feature in the pocket, trying to get the next one off the ground.

GH: What/who are your primary influences, both as an animator and storyteller?

MH: For animation, I tend to look east – Yuri Norstein, Jan Svankmajer, and Yiri Trnka. All of them are very visceral filmmakers – a lot of texture and sound (especially Svankmajer). The sound design for The Romantic is very Svankmajer in parts – squishy, slurpy, gravelly, brittle, etc. I love the design work of the 50s and 60s – many of the characters in The Romantic have some flare borrowed from that era. I’m also a Henson fan, so there are a few muppety looking characters.

Storytelling… hmm, when I started writing The Romantic (5-6 years ago) I was coming to an end of a long period of studying the mythologies of our world. Those stories, perhaps Greek and Norse primarily, informed The Romantic greatly. I even made a short stop motion film once that was a retelling of The Oresteia that got lost to a corrupt hard drive. The character of Orestes looked just like Romance. I think that tale in particular – Agamemnon killing Iphigenia, and the chaos that ensues, can definitely be seen in The Romantic.

Blood Meridian is perhaps my favorite book, which I’m sure informs some of the violence in my own film, though the storytelling styles are very different. Neil Gaiman and Alan Moore were huge influences on me growing up, perhaps even the reason why I became an animator (wanting to do what they did to comics in the animation world).

GH: The Romantic seems to revolve extensively around myth and its absence in modern society. To what degree has myth influenced your other scripts and projects?

MH: It’s influenced it to the degree that I perceive all my work as myth, not just the stuff with gods and monsters and heroes in it. I take it seriously, I think it’s a sacred process. The characters I create out of imagination and experience are transmutated into illusions that then inform and perhaps transform the thoughts, ideas and imaginations of others. Perhaps this transformation will extend to the body through action, who knows, but it’s possible. It’s a deeply psychological process that can carry real weight in the physical world. This is how I unpack and define mythology.

We have tons of mythology all around us, most of it’s flaccid, some of it is downright evil. But most of it is clumsy, tepid, lukewarm. It informs us and we inform it in this scummy eco system of story.

Look at the stories we are consuming. What it says about what we value, whether or not we have integrity, what we’re really working with – or more so, what we are choosing not to work with. We have mythology but it’s rarely dignified as such and perhaps that is problematic.

GH: Talk a bit about the genesis of The Romantic. How did the initial premise develop and over what period of time? Were any of the characters taken from your previous work?

MH: The characters developed over a very long period of time – I probably started working with this idea in 2003. I have tons of bizarre early sketches of all the Gods. I think Pjorrc, the god of time, started out with a crazy bushy moustache. Originally I think I wanted to make a creepy stop motion short film about a pantheon of gods… it was going to be very surreal, very much like a Svankmajer short. All of them were going to be carved wooden puppets, done in that Eastern European style. By 2004/2005 I had decided to do a cut out paper short film… then I learned how to mimic the cutout technique in Adobe After Effects. At some point I had this idea that a young man was going to hunt down these weird Gods and kill them one by one, finally meeting the God of All Gods for a showdown and finding that God was himself and in destroying his “self” he’d be born again into a newer self. Like a fantastical Kill Bill… then there was this idea that his true love was taken from him, hence his quest, but then… that his true love wasn’t his true love, which was revelatory to the protagonist… and it went on and on.

GH: How did you assemble your vocal cast?

MH: Since we didn’t have any money, hiring professional voice actors wasn’t really an option. About 99% of the cast were friends of mine. Some had acting experience as well, but most were just friends. I had worked with Jason (Romance) before on some short films. Peter Stambler, the voice of Fat Daddy, is the dean of liberal arts at Uarts. He was also my first scriptwriting teacher. The old version of Love was voiced by my mom. I think the only person I didn’t know ahead of time was Tom Hogan, who voiced King Cookie, Mr. Gord, and a couple of background characters. He answered a post I put on craigslist and auditioned for me over the phone. He did a fantastic job, so much so that I had him do multiple voices. Oh, and Alex Albrecht, who I met at comic con a couple years back. He did a brief cameo as The Spank. Aside from those two, everyone was connected to me personally somehow.

GH: How did you support yourself through the production process?

MH: I’ve worked a lot of different jobs while making the film to keep afloat. I’ve done freelance animation work, mostly motion graphic stuff. I’ve worked as a comic book colorist and flatter under Nick Filardi, and subsequently Marvel, Boom, Devils Due, and others. When the recession hit and work dried up I took a job working for a photo booth company setting up photo booths and other entertainment contraptions at weddings and bar mitzvahs etc. Finally, I took a job as a pastor’s assistant where I’m currently still employed.

It was the same story for everyone else working on the film – pulling long hours, working different jobs, making meager incomes, etc. None of us got paid – at least financially – for any of the work we did. It’s uncertain if we ever will. But we did make a feature film, and that’s something I think we’re all proud of.

Sometimes I look at The Romantic with all it’s blemishes and think “man, if I had $100,000 to make this, how much better this film would be…” but I try not to go there. This in many ways is my adolescent film, and it’s appropriate that it has some cringe worthy moments. It’s appropriate that it has its pimples.

GH: What is your opinion of modern animation? Do you think there’s enough emphasis on storytelling?

MH: Well the animation world is very big and I’d hesitate to speak about modern animation as one thing. But as far as American mainstream animation – what gets distribution, what the larger audience is actually aware of…

There is an emphasis on a kind of storytelling – one that is very predictable, very safe, very formulaic. Pixar, for instance, does know how to make you feel warm and gooey. They are masters of emotional manipulation. But I get bored at the lack of innovation and diversity in those stories. I’m not being challenged. Ever. Mainly because they are the most commercial of the commercial films – they are multi million dollar kids films. That’s the American animation machine right there. They sell bed sheets and lunchboxes. Mainstream animation is stuck there – stuck being a kids thing. For the most part, not even an interesting “kids thing.”

GH: I found it interesting that all your female characters are all in secondary roles and die (or at least presumably in the case of Love) before the film’s conclusion. Have audiences responded to this particular aspect?

MH: No – or, at least, no one has asked me about it yet. I was particularly nervous about that. The film goes to real dark places real fast. There is great cruelty here. Some towards women. I don’t know if Romance is misogynistic or extremely self involved, though I tend to feel more towards the latter. His girlfriend is never named, she’s sort of a McGuffin, because the whole thing really isn’t about her; it’s about the feelings she gives him, and his inability to master the chemicals in his head, which are very real, but aren’t the Truth.

Fat Daddy killing The Vent Monger (an anagram for the government, I read a lot of James Branch Cabell around this point) was sort of a reenactment of the destruction or dominance of a matriarchal or matrifocal way… or at least a point where woman carried mythological heft. Perhaps the defining of God as a father, which would later inspire an inseparable male association with God, or ultimate reality. These deep psycho movements are enacted in The Romantic when Fat Daddy corrupts “the son” into killing “the mother”, a deep, deep perversion of nature.

GH: Do you feel love in modern society has any more of a chance than it does in the world of your film?

MH: Well Love does win out in the film. But not in “the world.” When Patience says “so there’s no hope left for love in this world” when the mask is destroyed, he’s correct. What needs to happen can’t happen in this broken place that they inhabit. Their entire set of systems, governments, rituals, are all earthly and broken – no one really is leading from the correct point of view in the film, they are all leading from their self interests, each one. “The world” is destroyed because that is what happens when these self-interests are lived out, or made flesh. “The world is ending, as worlds do, when the creatures within them forget how to grow up.”

Our world is the same. I think an apocalyptic love waits insistent in our future; it has to, or the alternative is annihilation (an end of the world, but not the one I speak of). We’ve been playing the same game for so long and while the stakes have gotten higher (better bombs, better instruments of destruction) I’m not sure we’ve gotten any better at playing it.

When I say “the world” will end, in the film or otherwise, I mean a psychological world of schema, idea, that is made flesh in our actions. I don’t mean volcanoes and the earth blowing up. In The Romantic things are physical because it is myth and they are all manifestations of ideas anyway, so even if at some point we sense a physical destruction that is not the case. What’s destroyed at the end of The Romantic is Romance, and what’s reborn is Romance. The body remains, perhaps the physical world does as well, but it is ultimately a new world, a Love centric reality. Not a phony bologna self-centered love. To quote my friend Aaron: “when we swear ‘our love is real’ we mean ‘I like the way you make me feel’” Not that kind. The kind that is like the Sun that shines on the earth. The one that casts light not to receive, but because it is in its only nature to shine. Hence the sun at the end. Perhaps the whole story of The Romantic is this alchemical transformation of Love, from one that is adolescent into one that is omnipotent. I hope that this, too, is our story.

GH: To what degree do your dreams influence your work?

MH: I’m not sure. My dreams are seemingly too mundane to recount, I rarely dream of anything fantastic or interesting so much so that it’d make a good story. Right now my dreams are linked to anxieties I have about certain things – certainly those anxieties find their way into my work.

GH: How was work dispersed between such a small crew?

MH: I animated about 80 of the 95 minutes of the film. The remaining animation was done by three fantastic animators – Sean Dooley, Christie O’Brien, and Kayla Halstead. The storyboarding and background coloring followed a similar ratio. I drew all the characters & backgrounds. Dan Gauthier did all the wonderful VFX work, lightening, rain, snow, magic – that was entirely his talents. Nate Terry wrote and recorded all the music, and we collaborated on the sound design.

GH: What are your plans for distribution?

MH: We’re going to give it away for free on the internet. I’d like to raise some money first so I can polish the sound design and press some DVDs to sell on my site. We’ve been trying to start an IndieGoGo campaign about this, but it’s not entirely underway yet. Check our blog/facebook/website early in the fall, I hope you’ll be able to download a copy then!

GH: You’ve wasted no time starting your next feature, Burp’s Christmas. Are you approaching that process differently, given what you’ve learned from Romantic?

MH: Yes – I’m only going to make the film if we can raise our budget of $200,000. That may not happen, though I’m optimistic. I’m also spending a lot more time on everything – working out character designs, experimenting with different styles, polishing the script, etc. Everything will of course be much tighter, much more professional. The Romantic was a student film in many ways.

For more information, visit http://www.theromanticmovie.com and on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Romantic/147717729593
You can follow the progress of Burp’s Christmas at http://burpschristmas.blogspot.com

Here’s another installment of Microcinema Spotlight with Galen Howard! This time around, featuring an interview with both the director and subject of the great new documentary, Roll Out, Cowboy! We feel it’s important to note that Chris “Sandman” Sand responded to these interview questions from the sleeper compartment of his semi.

Artful juxtaposition addicts will want to take note of Elizabeth Lawrence’s new documentary, Roll Out, Cowboy, which follows Sandman the Rappin’ Cowboy on his nationwide tour during the 2008 Presidential election. Otherwise known as Chris Sand, he blends and balances rap and country music with a conviction and sophistication that transcends novelty without eschewing levity. Whether paying playful homage to “Rapper’s Delight,” or solemn tribute to Martin Luther King Jr., Sand’s music saunters, struts and strides through not just musical barriers, but those in age, society, politics, and so many more, one loses count. I spoke both with Elizabeth on the making of the film and with Sandman himself on his varied and unpredictable music career.

Elizabeth Lawrence

Galen Howard: What is your filmmaking background?

Elizabeth Lawrence: I grew up making short films and videos. Throughout high school, I spent nights and weekends editing my films. In short, I was the TV production nerd. I attended Columbia College Chicago and graduated with a Film/Video degree. After college, I worked for Lakeshore Entertainment on larger budget movies such as The Human Stain, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Underworld II , etc. as a producer’s assistant. In 2007 I ached to direct something on my own, so I made the jump back to my college days eating ramen noodles and katsup. Leaving the paid position stung, but creating my own project was worth it. I invested in a camera package and caught an Amtrak ticket one way to North Dakota. Here would begin the next three years of my life: to shoot this documentary.

GH: How did you first come in contact with Sandman and ultimately involve him in the film?

EL: I first saw Sandman perform in Chicago over ten years ago. This bow-legged, wrangler jean wearin’ cowboy strut onto the stage and announced that he was, “gonna do a little old school beat boxin’ tonight.” I couldn’t believe that I stumbled upon this unique performance so I bought 2 CDs straight away. His music (was) a mishmash of folk, hip-hop and country. This cowboy wasn’t a novelty act; his songs were poetic and smart. He had lots to say and the rhythm to prove it.

Five years later, I attended another show to support a musician/friend. Low and behold, the Rappin’ Cowboy sauntered across the stage! I turned to Warner and said, “that’s the Rappin’ Cowboy!” It just so happened that Sandman was passing through town and coincidentally stumbled upon me! I marched over to him and said, “you’re the Rappin’ Cowboy. This is destiny. We’re gonna be friends.”

As many people know, when you befriend the cowboy, you agree to house and feed him when he breezes through town on tour. You listen to the cowboy rap and croon about his traveling troubadour tales. We started scheming about working together. We weren’t sure how but perhaps a music video or a record. Time passed and we always talked about projects.

In 2007, I’d been reading his blog. I read about his cross country travels, his hometown of 120 people – where he purchased a house for $1000, how most of his friend were in their 60s, 70s and 80s. Half of Sand was rooted in Dunn Center, North Dakota and the other half lived on the road. It hit me. A documentary film was the medium where these two worlds could meet, albeit awkward at times and seamless at others. It would be dramatic and entertaining at the same time. I called Chris and asked if he’d like to participate in a documentary project about his life. He agreed. Destiny led me to Dunn Center, North Dakota three weeks later.

GH: Do you think you and Chris have many similarities in your philosophy and approach regarding your respective art forms?

EL: I think Chris and I both share a desire to tell stories and create an ambiance that brings people together. I’m envious of the immediate interaction a musician shares with his audience. I wish I could write a song one day and test it on a crowd the next. No, I’m not saying song writing is easier than making a film, but the process seems easier.

Making the documentary felt lonely at times. While Elizabeth Ross (editor), Sandman, Warner or me may have understood the story’s progression, it was difficult communicating about the project with others. Capturing real life happens in real time. So short of showing people 120 hours of raw footage, there was no easy way to share the work.

GH: How did you come to work with Warner? How were your tasks divided and the vision of the film maintained between you?

EL: Warner is my partner in life and in film. We’ve been working on film/video projects together for 15 years. We met each other in the editing suites of our high school’s basement. As for Roll Out, Cowboy, it was a no-brainer that Warner would produce and I’d direct. We’d debate about a budget line item one moment and whip up a lasagna together the next.

GH: What aspects of the filmmaking process did you find particularly challenging?

EL: How about a crash course in music licensing 101 from the amazing music supervisor Robin Kaye. Without her, we wouldn’t have featured any music in our music documentary.

GH: What’s your favorite Sandman song?

EL: Toss up between “Imaginary World” and “End of America.”

GH: What is next for you?

EL: I’m making another documentary feature. I start production in February.

Chris “Sandman” Sand

GH: Which musicians (of any genre) have influenced you the most?

Chris Sand: Bob Dylan, Hank Williams, Run-DMC, LL Cool J, Woody Guthrie, John Lennon, Bruce Springsteen, Jonathan Richman, Eminem, Lauryn Hill, Beat Happening, Sam Cooke, Ice T, Cat Power, R. Kelly, Phil Elverum, Melle Mel, Nina Simone, Johnny Cash, Old Time Relijun, The Ramones, Leonard Cohen, Neil Young, Michael Jackson, Townes Van Zandt, Harry Jackson, Bo Diddley, Led Zeppelin, Elvis Presley, Sade, Will Rogers, Chris Ledoux, Wesley Willis, Prince, Waddie Mitchell, Walt Whitman, Chris Rock, Carl Jung, Stevie Nicks, Stevie Wonder, William Shakespeare, Rumi, MLK Jr., close friends and relatives.

GH: Have you found over the years that your fusion of these two (seemingly) disparate music genres has alienated you in either of those respective circles, either from fans or peers?

CS: I’ve been flipped off at rap contests for wearing a cowboy hat and kicked out of cowboy bars for rapping. I don’t feel alienated by either genre – though, that’s mainly because I don’t believe in genres. I don’t expect either Kanye West or Brad Paisley to want to tour with me, but that’s not saying they wouldn’t enjoy some of my songs. I have some fans who only seem to like my rap tracks and others who prefer my acoustic guitar songs, but they don’t openly fault me for switching back and forth. They like my versatility.

GH: You say in the film that this blending of genres in American music has gone on since the days of Woody Guthrie. That said, have you come across anyone who does anything similar to your particular country-rap fusion?

CS: Genre-bending has probably gone on since caveman days, come to think of it. Music, like language and art, has no actual boundaries. The blending of country and rap has been inevitable since day one. One of Grandmaster Flash’s main rappers in the late ’70s was named Cowboy. Likewise, Afrika Bambaataa mixed straight-up country music samples into his funk-soul-intergalactic sound. The Beastie Boys sampled Johnny Cash. Sir Mix-a-Lot had his “Square Dance Rap.” Same with Eminem. There have been novelty hits like “The Rappin’ Duke.” Kid Rock’s probably been the most successful with mixing country and rap. Beck has artfully merged the two since before “Loser.” You got Buck 65, Bubba Sparxxx, Everlast, and Cowboy Troy. Country artists like Toby Keith, Shania Twain, and Neil McCoy have dabbled with rap forms. There’s a rodeo cowboy named Paul Zarzyski who raps sometimes. In fact, cowboy poetry reminds me a lot of rap with its brag talk, regional slang, and spoken-rhymed couplets. Certain old country songs like “Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarrette)” and Woody Guthrie’s talkin’ blues resembled rap. Dylan had his rapid-fire “Subterranean Homesick Blues” which mimicked Chuck Berry’s “Too Much Monkey Business.” I could go on and on. What makes me unique to the artform is my balanced and unaffected output. I consider myself one of the freshest old-school-influenced rap lyricists as well as one of the most honest current country-folk singers. I’ve been switching and combining styles since 1985 which makes me the bona fide “Godfather of Country-Rap.” I prefer the moniker “Senator of Rock and Roll,” though.

GH: If you could collaborate/duet with any one performer who would you choose?

CS: Female—Mary J. Blige; male–Anthony Hamilton. (I say this sincerely. I’m a huge modern R&B fan.)

GH: How do you feel your music has evolved over the years in terms of content, style and approach?

CS: For better or worse, my lyrics and musicianship have gotten more sophisticated. My raps have evolved. I try to keep bringing my songs back to the basics, though. Simple is best, I think. In regards to content, I’ve gone through many stages: raunchy, funny, earnest, irreverent, political, inscrutable. Same with style: lo-fi, heavily produced, live, solo, with band, etc. I experiment.

GH: Has your method of self-distributing your music and remaining an unsigned artist been a matter of choice, circumstance or both?

CS: Both, I guess. I haven’t had many distribution/agent/label offers, which is probably because I haven’t sought out many offers. I have a mental block in this area. By working day jobs I’ve been able to survive, if not exactly thrive. I think I’m holding out for Rick Rubin.

GH: So far has the film helped increase your following or gain you further recognition for your work?

CS: The film is still in its infancy and, thus, has yet to have a big impact on my career. It has begun to stir the waters a bit, though. Emails from people offering to set up house shows are starting to trickle in, which is exciting. I’ve made it so people can now download CDs from my website, so hopefully this will catch on!

GH: How have your friends and family reacted to the film?

CS: No relatives have seen it yet. I’m slightly apprehensive about when they do for a variety of reasons… As for my friends, the handful of them who have seen it tell me they absolutely love it. Especially the ones who are in it.

GH: What is your idea of musical success (and do you feel you’ve achieved it)?

CS: Without a doubt I feel I’ve already achieved huge success. I’ve put out ten quality CDs, toured the nation multiple times, influenced other musicians, & stayed independent. That said I’d love to tour overseas someday.

GH: What would you say has been your proudest moment to date as a musician?

CS: Either being invited to perform at the 25th annual cowboy poetry gathering in Elko, NV last year or seeing this film come to fruition and having it be so well received. A third contender would be winning a free-style rap competition in 1996 in front of a largely African-American audience I didn’t know. I was roundly mocked before the competition but received dozens of hugs and the loudest applause afterwards. Besides gaining the crowd’s validation, which felt great, I truly needed the $100 prize money to pay my rent.

GH: If you could choose one song of yours to gain wide popularity, which would it be?

CS: Probably “Damascus.” I wrote it last year and put a version of it on YouTube. It might need some arranging yet, but I like it’s “no fences” lyrical sentiment. I’ve got another one in the works called “break me open” that has potential if I can get it recorded right.

GH: Has seeing yourself in Elizabeth and Warner’s film given you any insight into yourself and your craft?

CS: Good question. For one thing, I notice that I change my facial hairstyle a lot. It’s funny that I’m sporting the Fu Manchu for most of the tour, as I’ve never had one before or since. Sorta wish I’d gone with muttonchops, but what can you do. It was a nod to the band I was touring with–Moustaches. Ironically, they cut theirs off before tour. I guess I felt obligated to represent and the Fu Manchu just seemed more substantial than a Lincoln beard, shit ring, or Michael Jordan-Hitler ’stache.

In all seriousness though, the film hasn’t illuminated anything I didn’t already suspect about myself. I’m a quirky, gay-friendly, bug repellent sprayin’, womanizin’, truck crashin’, Obama lovin’, small farm supportin’, fence cuttin’, broke ass rappin’ country boy. It’s always been that way for me, more or less.

Roll Out, Cowboy screens Sunday, June 20 at 7:30 PM at Movies on a Big Screen at The Guild. Rick Rubin (and anyone else) can visit Sandman at www.rappincowboy.com Check out the Roll Out, Cowboy website at www.rolloutcowboy.com

For his first feature, Jody Lambert turned the camera on his father, Dennis Lambert, a successful pop songwriter and producer who has since turned to a career in real estate in Boca Raton, Florida. Through the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s, Dennis had 75 songs in Billboard’s top 100, including “Don’t Pull Your Love,” “Ain’t No Woman Like the One I Got,” “Rhinestone Cowboy,” and “Nightshift,” though only recorded one album of his own, Bags and Things, in 1972. While virtually forgotten in the United States, the album is to this day adored in the Philippines, and its song “Of All the Things” serves as a sort of Valentines anthem for countless couples. Jody’s film of the same name concerns his father’s journey to the Philippines in 2007 for a two-week concert tour – his first live performance in years. Instead of resorting to predictable narration, Jody lets Dennis and his music tell the story of a man rediscovering his passion in the least likely of places.

Galen Howard: Of All the Things is your first feature. Had you attempted any other projects in any capacity previously?

Jody Lambert: I went to NYU film school and then studied acting. I was doing plays in NYC, writing scripts, trying to get a few movies off the ground. But when the Philippines tour happened, it felt like the right time to stop making excuses and make it happen.

GH: How did you raise your funds? Where did the money go primarily?

JL: Our producer Taylor Williams raised the money. We shot in Boca Raton and the Philippines and did post-production in LA and NYC. Every dime we spent is up there on the screen.

GH: Looking back, is there any aspect of the filmmaking process you wish you had done differently?

JL: I’m sure every filmmaker wishes he/she had more time and money. But we jumped in and never looked back, and I think the movie has an energy and vitality because we wanted to get it in front of audiences as quickly as possible.

GH: Was the experience making the film any different from your initial expectations?

JL: It was more challenging than I thought it would be — but also much more rewarding. To make a movie about your dad, about your family, and then screen it all over the world, it’s been a life-changing experience for all of us.

GH: How so?

JL: My dad and I have gotten so much closer throughout the process of making the film. The Philippines tour was a career highlight for him, and the movie was the same for me. To go through those experiences together has been really special, something I’ll never forget.

GH: What were the primary challenges you faced during the production?

JL: Making a documentary is tough — I think the primary challenge was trying to stay creative and spontaneous when the stakes are high and your back is against the wall, time and money-wise. I was very lucky that everyone who worked on the film believed it was a terrific story, and they were excited to be a part of it. It’s a lot easier to soldier on when the people around you are so inspiring.

GH: Did your father have any input into the film’s approach during production and/or post?

JL: We showed him the cuts of the film as we were editing. He gave us notes and suggestions here and there, which were always very helpful. His generosity and wisdom and humor helped us find the tone and the direction of the movie. But I think he trusted that we were gonna come up with something special and he was very generous about letting us make the movie we wanted to make.

GH: How has your father responded to the film?

JL: He loves it. I think he sees it not just as a movie about him, but as an inspirational portrait of an artist getting one more chance to his mojo back.

GH: I could imagine there was an abundance of memorable footage of Dennis (both onstage and off) that didn’t make it into the final cut.

JL: My dad is hilarious and he has an endless amount of stories and jokes and schtick, so there will definitely be some really good stuff on the Special Features of the dvd.

GH: Was it ever difficult to maintain an objective perspective as a filmmaker and storyteller, given your close ties to the subject?

JL: It was easy to maintain objectivity because we always wanted the movie to be more about Dennis’s journey than about our relationship. We didn’t want the movie to be one of those “let me tell you about my father” documentaries because we felt the story of his career and the trip to the Philippines were more interesting than that. So we were comfortable letting our relationship be a part of the movie, but not the whole thing. Having said that, there’s no doubt that being his son made him comfortable talking about things that he might have shied away from with another documentary crew.

GH: Do you think you came away from the film with a new appreciation for or view of your father’s music (in general or particular)?

JL: Absolutely. My dad is from the generation of songwriters who knew how to write smart, catchy hits in all genres. Digging into his body of work made me realize how hard that is, and how few people can do that today. But more than that, it made me see his courage and his willingness to lay it all on the line. He embarked on this amazing adventure at an age when most people choose to play it safe.

GH: Do you think you’ve gained a different perspective on pop music from Dennis over the years? Might you listen to or judge a song differently because of his influence?

JL: There’s no question that his taste in music and approach to writing/producing has influenced me. He really believes in the idea that a song can be catchy and entertaining, but also clever and intelligent. His best songs — “Nightshift” for example — are like that and I think he strived for that in all of his music. Regardless of genre, I respond to those qualities in music. And in films too.

GH: Are there any particular musicians today you feel would be well-matched with your father’s songwriting style, or any you’d like to see cover his previous songs?

JL: I’d love to see my dad and Beck work together — two white guys laying down some funky R&B.

GH: Has seeing the path of your father’s music career affected your perspective or approach in regards to your own artistic career?

JL: Of course. I’ve watched his career have its ups-and-downs, and certainly this tour and the film prove that you can always get a second chance. Mostly though, I’ve realized that all you can do is continue to put pen to paper and produce good work and hope it gets seen (or heard) by audiences.

GH: Has the film been screened in the Philippines?

JL: We haven’t screened in the Philippines yet. But we’re hoping to finally get there this year.

GH: How has it been trying to market and distribute the film?

JL: It’s tough out there for all independent films right now. But we’ve gotten really lucky — over the last two years we’ve screened at amazing festivals all over the world; traveled to China with AFI Project: 20/20; my dad has played concerts at the Viper Room (LA), Joe’s Pub (NYC) and the Bluebird Cafe (Nashville). So we’ve been able to show the movie and share my dad’s story and music with a lot of people. It’s been a great ride. And I think in some ways, we’re just getting started.

GH: What are you working on currently?

JL: Feature scripts. I’d like the next film I direct to be a narrative film, not another documentary. My dad was able to bounce from genre to genre, so I’m hoping to do that too.

Here’s the second installment of filmmaker interviews by Galen Howard! If you went to the MOBS screening of The Man Who Would Be Polka King, you’ll be able to see it again via Netflix later this summer. And if you missed it, then make sure to check it out!

One would not likely expect the relentlessly optimistic world of polka music to be the setting for a sordid crime drama, but that is exactly the case with the documentary The Man Who Would Be Polka King from directors John Mikulak and Joshua von Brown. The film’s subject, Grammy-nominated polka bandleader Jan Lewan, immigrated from Poland in the 1970’s and ultimately settled in Pennsylvania where he would build his prominent “polka empire.” Offering fans guided European tours and a high-end gift store to compliment his regular concert schedule, Lewan funded his enterprise through a long and elaborate investment scam that resulted in losses nearing $10,000,000. Mikulak and von Brown show Lewan as a consummate performer and perpetual opportunist whose pursuit of his own wide-scope version of the American dream ultimately destroyed the lives of he and his family along with his many investors. The film toured festivals in 2009, around the end of Lewan’s five-year prison sentence.

Galen Howard: How did you initially become aware of Jan Lewan and ultimately decide to make a film of his story?

John Mikulak: Well, to make a long story short…I had been in Manhattan for about ten years. I got my MFA in filmmaking at NYU and then found myself drifting into the world of advertising. So I decided to make a drastic break. I quit my job at the ad agency and moved out of the city to the mountains of Pennsylvania where I had relatives. The plan was to live a kind of bohemian lifestyle, working on scripts and doing some spec commercial spots for my reel.

It was while I was out in that region of Pennsylvania that I heard about Jan Lewan. He was this flamboyant and charismatic individual; very well known in his region. He actually approached me about doing a book about his life story because he heard that I was a writer/director from New York. At the time, however, it seemed to be just a story of an immigrant who came here and found success. It was fun and interesting…but I wasn’t compelled. About a year later, Lewan approached me again. This time he told me that he was probably going to jail. Wow! Now THERE was a hook: A beloved polka king who defected to this country, built up a polka empire, and then had it all crumble – with lives ruined and jail time, etc. It seemed like an amazing tragedy. So I asked if he’d be interested in participating in a documentary. To his credit he agreed – even when I told him it would tell the good, the bad and the ugly side of his life story.

GH: Did you have any difficulties gaining or maintaining the involvement of your interview subjects?

JM: Yes, it was a constant struggle to get victims to come forward and tell their story. Many were furious that I even contacted them because the memory of Lewan’s betrayal was so painful to them. Also, others were just plain embarrassed and didn’t want to appear on camera. And others were actually scared. They feared that Lewan would come after them after he left prison, which was a paranoid fear but real to them nonetheless.

I also had to walk a tightrope between the two Lewan camps – between those who were still devoted to him and those who despised him. It was difficult to convince everyone that I didn’t have an ulterior motive, that I was just interested in hearing both sides of the story.

Another problem was arranging a jailhouse interview. I had spent months getting that approved by the state of Delaware, only to have Lewan’s lawyers cancel it a few days before we were scheduled to shoot. I was devastated at the time, but now feel it worked out fine.

GH: How did you come to collaborate on the film with your co-director Joshua von Brown?

JM: Josh is an old NYU buddy of mine. I had spent years shooting (the film) on my own. Josh was aware of the project and even helped early on in cutting a promo for it. Over the years he approached me a couple times about potentially doing it as a doc for Court TV. I turned the idea down until they made an offer that would allow us to do both a TV and feature version. At that point, Josh came aboard to head up the post-production and edit the project. He basically became so instrumental in creatively helping to craft the structure that I felt he deserved equal credit as co-director.

GH: Beyond practical narrative purposes, what was the idea behind the fictional narrator character Stan Tadrowski?

JM: Well, we had already done the version of the documentary for Court TV/TruTV. Joshua and I realized that we had to have a voice-over to tie certain elements of the narrative together (for the expanded feature), but we wanted to do something different, something other than the traditional TV VO narration. So we came up with the idea of creating this polka “everyman” who narrates the story from a small American Legion hall in Northeastern PA. We felt if fit the setting and mood and introduced a little flavor to the narration. The actor Greg Korin did a really nice job of nailing the Northeastern PA accent. We actually held auditions in New York and no actor came as close to capturing that feel.

GH: How much does the feature differ from the Court TV version?

JM: The main difference would be the inclusion of additional footage – a few more story points – and the tone, which is much more “indie.” It has more a more casual and folksy flavor because of the actor portraying Stan Tadrowski. Also, the writing of the narration isn’t as “signposted” as the TV version (which is something the networks want you to do to lead the audience through the story).

GH: The incidents in Jan’s story range from absurdly comic to deeply tragic. How did you balance these extremes throughout the documentary?

JM: That was a major concern of ours throughout the edit. And it was difficult because the documentary does have elements that are hilarious and absurd (as you say) while also detailing very tragic events. Honestly, we just tried to keep an overall perspective that the tone pretty much needs to echo the tone that Jan’s life story took. I mean, he’s a guy whose life encompassed great highs and lows. You can’t tell his story without reveling in the colorful aspects of the polka world or Jan’s over-the-top showmanship. And this is what makes the dark, self-destructive undercurrents that lead to his ruin and the financial destruction of his victims so much more poignant and fascinating. I’ve always said that this is more than a polka documentary, that it’s a classic tragedy. I guess the polka backdrop and Lewan’s larger-than-life persona made it necessarily a tragicomedy.

GH: What has the response to the film been like, both within and outside the polka community? How has Jan and his family responded to the film?

JM: I think the response has been largely positive. There’s definitely a range of opinions on whether Lewan was malicious or just foolish. The family – in general – believes I did a fair job. I always told them that I wasn’t going to pull punches. So I think they respected my honesty with them throughout the process. And I do have to thank them for cooperating in terms of supplying tons of archival photos and allowing me to use Lewan’s music, etc.

I know that Lewan, himself, feels that I left out parts of his side of the story. But he has to understand that what is important to him isn’t always objectively important to the overall narrative. You can’t get bogged down in minutiae or you will lose your audience.

All in all, Jan Lewan knows that the documentary has kept his name alive and provided publicity. So deep down, I think his ego likes the fact that a documentary was made on his life…and that it has played in festivals around the world and on national TV. He’s working on a book, so I think he figures it can help him get that published.

I know that some people within the polka community felt that the documentary shed a negative light on polka. I think a lot of people outside the polka community are just blown away by the whole Jan Lewan phenomenon and how he was able to create such a wild reality. He pretty much created his empire by force of will…and the help of his Ponzi scheme, of course.

GH: I read that upon Jan’s release last year, he said that his heavy exposure in prison to rap music has inspired him to fuse it with polka. Does this seem to you in keeping with his overall character?

JM: Oh yeah. And I’ve heard him perform one of the rap songs. It’s hilarious. He’s going to include a few on his next album. It’s totally in keeping with Jan to look at a situation and see how he can turn it into an advantage. He is, for better or worse, an incurable optimist. And he’s not one to stand still and bemoan his fate. He just moves on. I’m sure he has tons of projects in mind at this moment. I know he has been performing whenever he can.

The Man Who Would Be Polka King will be available from Netflix later this summer.

Wow! We’re resurrecting MOBSblog! Trust us, the lack of posts here has not been intentional. But what better way to come back to life than with the initial entry of a new series of filmmaker interviews, done by key MOBS helper, Galen Howard! So please… read the first installment of Microcinema Spotlight with Galen Howard!

The new Austin-based romantic comedy Artois the Goat possesses a sort of delicately infectious whimsy that, much like the artisanal cheese it prominently features, may take time for the consumer to develop a taste for it. And yes, also in that same keeping, it’s well worth that period of adjustment. Further, director brothers Kyle and Cliff Bogart and producer Richard Reininger’s have made this impressive debut film with similar tenacity and limited resources as with which their main character Virgil Gurdies makes his one-of-a-kind goat cheese. The film is ultimately about the importance of following one’s destiny, even if it means putting your lovelife at risk and manufacturing illegal cheese. Reininger speaks candidly about how he and the Bogarts brought this charmingly off-beat tale to the screen, and for the cost of about five frames of Avatar.

Galen Howard: I read that co-director Cliff’s employment at a cheese shop was partial inspiration for the story. Are any of you as passionate about cheese as your main character, and was your general appreciation of cheese enhanced or depleted by the end of the film?

Richard Reininger: Cliff’s employment at a cheese shop really was what catapulted the film into what it became. Kyle had the story mostly laid out, he just needed the obsession that Virgil would dive into headfirst. Cliff was and still is passionate about cheese. He would always bring home cheeses from the shop for us to enjoy with beer or wine and would explain about its creation. When he told Kyle of the smaller farms around Central Texas that own goats and make artisanal cheeses for a living, it was plugged into the story and we began our research to make it as authentic as possible. My appreciation for cheese has certainly been enhanced. We’d certainly like to continue to explore it, but with depleted funds from making the film, we reserve it for special occasions.

GH: Be honest: was any actual illegal cheese used in the film?

RR: Hahaha. No. All of the cheese in the film is, in fact, legal to sell in the US. Though I’d love to get my hands on some of the illegal stuff…

GH: What was the time span from the film’s initial conception to its completion?

RR: I was brought on as producer in November 2007. Kyle and Cliff had been working on the screenplay for about a year before then. We premiered in March of 2009 at the SXSW film festival and finished the last of the music cues in early December 2009. So I suppose from conception to completion, it was 3 years. 3 and half if you count it until our DVD distribution deal

GH: I’d love for you to go into how the film’s visually sweeping, whimsical style was achieved on such a considerably small budget. Were any elements in the script revised in accordance with the available funds?

RR: The film follows the original screenplay almost to a T. We budgeted for what we needed to do, and then we were able to more or less stick to that. We tried to put as much money on screen as possible, which meant working with a very small cast and crew. It kept things easy to manage, control with the Bogarts and myself, and lessened the number of mouths on set to feed. Cliff and Kyle had a distinct way they wanted things to look, and our cinematographer, David Blue Garcia, worked himself to death to make it happen with the extremely limited lighting and equipment allocation I allowed. We were all on the look out for the perfect costume items, colored paints, and locations to give the film the look they had originally intended. Then, we took it upon ourselves to take what we had, and make it what we wanted ourselves, which is another way we kept our costs down. When something needed done, it was either one of the Bogarts or myself that made it happen. It really was a DIY sort of film.

GH: I understand most of your core team was formed during film school. Were you able to cast many friends and acquaintances, or did you cast more outside your circle?

RR: Kyle and I had met and then worked together all through film school. I, of course, met Cliff through Kyle. We had also made friends with David Blue Garcia, our cinematographer, and Martin Pedersen, our sound recordist, in various classes. Our actors we met at casting calls, and it just so happened that our two leads, Mark Scheibmeir and Sydney Andrews) were MFA acting candidates at the University of Texas at Austin. Many of our supporting roles went to their classmates (the UT acting program really held their own in our auditions). Our nefarious German baker, Stephen Taylor Fry, was a childhood friend of the Bogarts, and made his acting debut.

GH: I noticed many “Fake Shemps” (a term popularized by director Sam Raimi for actor doubles that are used when cast members are unavailable) are listed in the credits. Were they employed mainly for stunt purposes, scheduling conflicts, or other reasons entirely?

RR: All of the above, really. Just about all of the “hand modeling” was done by Kyle to get the action just right and to give Mark a break. He also wasn’t a pro at goat milking, so we brought in one.

GH: Finally, I felt the Brian Satterwhite’s music score really contributed to the film’s overall lasting impact. Did you always envision the score playing such a key role in the film, and being so rooted in the French style?

RR: The score was always to be a big part of the film, and it ended up a huge question mark towards the end of post-production. The Bogarts had temped the film with a number of fantastic (and fantastically expensive) musical cues. The images became entwined with the temp music, and we knew we were in for an adventure replacing them with original cues. Luckily, Brian was in love with the project and dove right into composing his own pieces. He was very receptive to Cliff and Kyle’s ideas for the film musically, and together we all came out of it with a score that we’re all very happy with. It gives the film such a wonderfully unique musical identity, and is certainly one of the things I’m most happy with considering the limited budget with which we had to work. As far as the French style, Kyle had been listening to 60’s French pop while writing and editing, so it found its way into the temp score. Brian loved it, and peppered it throughout his pieces. Where we needed songs, he found a local French musician, Olivier Giraud, who was generous enough to write original material for us.

Artois the Goat plays this Sunday, April 25, at MOBS.

You can contact Galen Howard at galen@moviesonabigscreen.com