For as long as I can remember, I’ve enjoyed making people laugh. I don’t know. There’s something about brightening someone else’s day that appeals to me.
How do those stand-ups and comedy writers do it so well?
I take pride in the fact that I can be the one to make them laugh. That’s why when I started playing around with my family’s VHS camcorder (see last week’s email) I did all kinds of goofy things, just to make my family and friends laugh.
But around the time I was in college, making student short films, I drifted away from comedy and into other genres. This trend lasted for several years after college; well into my 30s, in fact.
I dabbled in suspense/thriller.
I wrote and directed a very heavy dramatic short about domestic abuse.
I produced a gritty modern noir revenge film.
I directed a family sci-fi drama that involved time travel.
Among others. It got to the point when I would find myself telling other people, “I’m not really a dark person,” when talking to them about my subject matter.
“Well that’s good,” you might say. “After all, you said in last week’s email that it’s important to experiment and try new things.” And I would agree with you, but the difference is in this one word:
Motivation.
To put it another way: the why of it all. I could tell you that I ventured into other genres of short film in order to find my voice, my style, my type of storytelling, but I’m not sure that would be the most honest assessment of my intentions.
As I reflect on it now, with the benefit of age and experience, I would probably say that I wrote and directed those films because I thought that was what was expected. My motivation was to anticipate what a festival jury might like, or what other filmmakers might like, or what others might deem “artistic.” I was making films for other people, but not necessarily for me.
Don’t get me wrong: I definitely learned things along the way, and those experiences helped make each subsequent film a little bit better. The problem was that my films didn’t really stand out from the crowd. A dark and tragic family melodrama. How many of those do you see in every festival short film block? Answer: plenty. Now, should filmmakers not be telling those stories? Of course they should. Filmmaking is an art, and as such, the artist should put on the canvas whatever he/she wants. And that’s the point. Artist should tell the stories they want to tell, and for a few years I don’t think I was doing that.
Lesson: Do things for you, not because of someone else’s expectations of what you should do.
In 2017 I broke away from doing what was expected and went back to making short films for me.
And you know what? Since then, I’ve had more creative fulfillment and I’ve enjoyed more success on the festival circuit. I’ve also earned a lot more recognition and media impressions.
Oh, and I made people laugh.