So tonight for one of my classes we watched Best Worst Movie. Then we proceeded to talk about fandom culture, B-movies, cult classics and overthinking filmmakers. And I was fine, until we got to that last one, because that was when a handful of the guys in my capstone class basically jumped all over the poor dude and called him "delusional." Okay, guys. Okay.
Now, I understand where they're coming from. The director and writer of Troll 2 may have had the best of intentions, but holy Christ did something get lost in translation. I can see why Troll 2 has its cult following--God knows I like my fair share of awful movies; we've already talked about this--but I'm definitely not a fan. I like my b-movies like I like my fashion: straight out of the 1950s, and Troll 2 is just a touch too 1980s for my taste. (And if you're wondering why I'm not too into the 80s b-movie scene, sit down and watch Killer Klowns from Outer Space sometime. I still have nightmares about that one.) And no, for anyone who isn't familiar with the movie, Troll 2 was not a critical hit. It's got all the excess of a bad indie film with none of the charm. Bad acting. Bad costumes. Bad dialogue--oh, yes; as a scriptwriter that dialogue makes me cringe.
But with all that being said, I also understand where the director of Troll 2 was coming from when he was interviewed for Best Worst Movie. "They're laughing at parts that were not meant to be laughed at," the bemused director points out during one screening. It's clear that he has no clue that his audience is enjoying the film in a different way than how he intended. He's taking those laughs personally, and taking offense at the fact that the audience is laughing during a scene that's supposed to be tense. Maybe the audience is having fun, but the filmmaker is not. He's not sure what they find so funny.
And at that point during the movie, my heart went out to the poor guy, because I've been there. Oh, hell yes. I have been there.
Way back in 2010, I made my first thesis movie at Interlochen. It was called Posession, and it was...okay, it wasn't my best work. Watch it here, and decide for yourself. And if you don't have time, well, I'll just tell you: my editing sucked. My dialogue was iffy, at best--I was trying to pack fifteen pages of story into five pages of script. Not a good idea, believe me. As for my directing...well, I may have had a cast of good actors, but I was too shy to demand what I wanted of them. And that just didn't end well; it made all four of us look less than stellar.
But even with all that, I was proud of what I'd accomplished. So on the night of the thesis screenings I was so excited to show off my work. Nervous, yes, but totally thrilled. It was the first time I'd gotten to see something that I'd worked so hard on shown on a big screen. And I was so, so ready to see the audience's reaction. Through the first few films that night I let my imagination run wild. For a few brief, shining minutes I entertained the hope that I'd make someone cry.
And then Possession came up, and my hope was shattered.
The bulk of my jokes, including a Blair Witch Project reference that I'd thought was just so clever, fell flat. Instead, people cracked up at all the wrong moments. The moment that Gavin, my "out" gay character, confessed his crush to his "straight" (read: gay but so not ready to admit it) roommate, the entire room erupted. This was supposed to be the moment that everyone was holding their breath (would Ronnie like Gavin back? would they kiss? was there a happy ending?), but instead, apparently, it was a Comedy Central special. I couldn't figure out where I'd gone wrong. I spent the remainder of the screening trying to hide my tears from my fellow filmmakers. And I hated myself for being so useless. I thought this was it, I'd never make it as a filmmaker.
In retrospect, I think the majority of the laughter came from the fact that these were classmates, watching a couple of guys who they knew and loved play out a scene that, quite frankly, never would have happened in real life. Alex and Andrew, my actors, got along well enough on the set, but anyone who knew them probably snickered (or, judging by the reaction I got at the screening, laughed hysterically) at the thought of them being lovers. Also considering the fact that I was showing this movie to a roomful of teenagers, most of whom probably still found the idea of sex either mysterious or borderline uncomfortable....yeah, that probably didn't help either. But you couldn't have convinced me of that at seventeen. Nope, because that one scene got the wrong reaction, I was destined to be the next Ed Wood.
I realize that I spend far too much time on this blog writing about other filmmakers' work, and not enough time writing about the experience, the thrill and the pain and the fear of actually making a damn movie. I've said before I'm not a film critic--and make no mistake, I'm not--but I've always found it easier to analyze something someone else has done than analyze something I've done. I don't want to think about my own stuff because if I do...well...I have to think about what it means about me. And sometimes, that's the last thing I want to do.
But I look back on Possession now, apart from the glow of creation and the unflinching pride in my first "real" movie (I'll probably go into more detail on that later), and I can admit that God, yes, that thing is flawed as hell. But at the same time, there is so much good in it. No, it's not the story that I originally wanted to tell, but there are enough of my little quirks in it to make the film feel like it's truly mine. I cast the actors I wanted, got the DP I wanted, and found a composer to write the score I wanted--and to hell with everyone who said you don't want that actor or that girl hasn't DPed enough or that music doesn't match your story. I fell in love with my characters and maybe that was a mistake, but if there's one thing about Possession that I'm still proud of it's my characters. They are alive. They don't do things just to move the plot forward, they're human--and damn it, that was a hard thing to pull off.
Now, granted, my movie didn't wind up with a cult following, so of course Mr. Troll 2 is totally one-up on me there. And yeah, yeah, I know. It's not the same, a microbudget horror film and a student thesis movie. But tonight I felt a moment of kinship with this guy, this lovely man who genuinely believes in the movies he makes. You know what's really cool about that? The only real cult films happen when the directors don't set out to make a cult film. That's what separates the Scary Movie V's from the Troll 2s and Plan 9 from Outer Spaces. That's what makes people fall in love with your work: when you really believe in what you're making.
So for as long as I live and breathe and make art (good art or bad art, I don't give a damn), I will put myself into it, heart and soul. I will give every film I make my all, and if it's a roaring success, well, that's wonderful, and if it's a flop, so be it. I will do what I love, and let the audience laugh and cry at whatever moments they like. If their laughter means I've failed, then let me fail again and again. In the immortal words of the Mythbusters: Failure is always an option.
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