gregorybayne(dot)com

Cory McAbee is STILL my hero

This was originally posted in the fall of 2009 right after the release of Cory’s new film, STINGRAY SAM. I find myself revisiting it in the wake of Ted Hope’s just published “38 More Ways The Film Industry Is Failing Today”, the ensuing internet flack, and Mark Lipsky’s point by point response to Ted’s manifesto.

When I originally wrote this I was simply a fan of Cory’s work. I had purchased THE AMERICAN ASTRONAUT as soon as I could get my hands on it, and after a single viewing was what you could describe as a true fan. I absolutely loved it, everything about it. From the film itself, to the accompanying music, all the way down to the DVD, and packaging design. I knew immediately that this was an artist, a filmmaker, a musician, that I wanted, and needed to support.

So, for the ensuing 8 or so years, I’d click back to Cory’s site to see what was what, until finally last fall I was very pleasantly surprised to click through and see that Cory had a new film, and that the new film was available right then. I quickly bought the deluxe package. For $49 I received a digital download of the film, and music, and also received a DVD, CD, snazzy photo booklet, and a Stingray Sam T-Shirt. Beyond that, I knew the revenue was going direct to the artist, which made my purchase even more valuable.

In March, through pleasant happenstance, it ended up that Cory and I were both speaking at The Conversation. We met, ended up hanging out for the day, and in true ‘summer camp’ style exchanged numbers at the end of the event and vowed to stay in touch. Luckily we have, and I find myself in the enviable position of  having gained a friend, a mentor, and a future collaborator.

All this is to say that for all the back and forth of late, some of which I have jumped into myself, this story, and Cory’s work represents, I believe, exactly what it is we’re all seemingly trying to achieve. A progressive film culture that is artist centric, takes advantage of both new means of production, and digital distribution, and available social media (Cory and I’s first interaction was via Twitter). So, as I plan the road ahead for my current work(s), I’m decidedly looking to the guy who is, as far as I can tell, a couple steps ahead of everyone else, and firmly locked into the doing, as opposed to getting lost in these conversations about what we should do.

And now, why Cory McAbee is still my hero…

When the so called ‘digital revolution’ took hold in the hearts, minds and working practice of independent filmmakers everywhere (including right here), it brought with it the promise of a new found creative liberation, wrapped in the package of low cost, high quality digital video cameras. Now some 10-12 years later, what began as a fresh and experimental cinematic movement, struggling initially to just have its quality of image taken seriously, (so much so that many early ‘digital’ films used a gimmick ala Blair Witch in order to explain away the video footage), has now, in large part, been beaten into the conformity of an accepted mode of production.

In the ‘early’ days, as it were, Lars Von Trier was using 100 video cameras to capture musical/dance sequences in Dancer in the Dark, Harmony Corrine was using everything under the sun, including small surveillance cameras to capture schizophrenia in Julien Donkey-Boy, Richard Linklater was creating a new animation platform in Waking Life, Bennett Miller was showing what one man with a camera could do in The Cruise, Anthony Dod Mantle was redefining cinematography in 28 Days Later. In short, the new medium was informing the work and encouraging experimentation, driving the art of cinema forward.

Sadly, the ensuing years, while inspiring a new wave of filmmakers, seemed to quell (in large part) that initial experimental spark. As ‘digital film’ production became an accepted norm, so did the penchant for ‘digital filmmakers’ to adhere to the Hollywood ’way it’s always been done’mythos. Slowly but surely, digital films began to look more like their dull predecessors.

Enter Cory McAbee.

In 2001 Mr. McAbee debuted The American Astronaut, a film that, at the time, went completely against the trend. Trading new American realism for a fanciful, musical journey through a land of space cowboys, drawing inspiration from western serials of yore, and mixing cinema, music and art into an incredibly engaging and totally original lo-fi, musical masterpiece that was not shot digitally, but rather in lush black and white 35mm film.

Beyond my immediate love of The American Astronaut aesthetic, (I have a deep fondness for B&W cinematography, westerns and yes, musicals), I was struck by the boldness of the film, the unflinching vision and the maker’s complete commitment to it. From the set pieces, to shot design, characters, costuming, dialogue, song lyrics, casting, story structure, all of it…a truly free and uncompromising artistic expression that looked fun as hell to make.

I felt I was watching watching a filmmaker that knew exactly who they were. I was at once completely mesmerized and a bit jealous. Knowing who you are, and exactly what it is you do as an artist is such a difficult task. It requires countless hours of practicing your craft, honest self examination and the ability to be objective about your work. I think this is especially tough for those of us working in film, which is classified more as ‘industry’ than as ‘art’, leading one to (at times) respond less to what is going on within themselves and more to what is going on around them in the ‘marketplace’, and the anxiety that it induces (if you allow it).

Needless to say, after one viewing I had become a true fan. The DVD is in regular rotation around these parts, as is the soundtrack.

This year Mr. McAbee and crew have released Stingray Sam, an incredibly entertaining 6 part sci-fi, western serial that follows the exploits of Stingray Sam (McAbee) and the Quasar Kid (Crugie) as they earn their freedom in exchange for the rescue of a young girl who is being held captive by the genetically designed figurehead of a very wealthy planet.

Working digitally this time, McAbee still opts to buck the ’way in which things are done’ across the board. Instead of a standard feature length film he has created the picture specifically as a serial (6 approximately 10 minute episodes) which he presents in a 4×3 TV style format, lush with 2D planetary landscapes created via photoshop collages made from paintings and photographs; the cast, other than McAbee and the narration of David Hyde Pierce, is not recognizable, the story is simple, sweet and whimsical, carrying forth the cheeky tone of dialogue and song from The American Astronaut, and then there is the release.

Stingray Sam has been released in a myriad of formats direct to audience via www.corymcabee.com. No middle man, and as far as I can tell, never any intention of having one. Building on the ‘true fan’ base of The American Astronaut, McAbee has created a cottage industry for his very specific flavor of cinema exploits. At the site you can download the series immediately, order a DVD, or do what I did, get the $49 Deluxe Edition that includes multiple download formats of the series and soundtrack as well as the DVD, the CD soundtrack, autographed booklet and a T-Shirt.

So why is Cory McAbee my hero? Very simple. Before the rest of us figured out that all you need to do is: do what you do, do it well, keep control of your work, and never be afraid to experiment…he was already doing it.

Going forth, I hope to be as bold.

The Art of Listening

Today I awoke to this incredible review of PERSON OF INTEREST:

“The ring of a bell: a metaphor for recognition.

This is what I kept hearing while watching PERSON OF INTEREST. The attack and decay of a bell kept resonating in my head as the story of the main character Terrance Dyer evolved. I kept recognizing situations, feelings and attitudes that reside in the deep paranoid pockets of the American psyche.

This is a visionary work; it is the TAXI DRIVER of this generation. It is a fulminating, subversive piece of cinema that throws a sharp elbow into the solar plexus of domestic propaganda and challenges the dogma of fear.

PERSON OF INTEREST will anger some as it will be misunderstood. The ignorant will hear rhetoric and see symbols (such as an inverted American flag) that they will take to mean disrespect, and for some “wing-nuts,” treason.

But an inverted American flag is a military symbol of distress. Terrance Dyer, a returning veteran with loads of emotional baggage feels that the country that he has fought for seems to have changed as he views it through the prism of his experiences.

Terrance Dyer sees things differently, and over and over again his character brings us to the edge of a dark abyss and then steps away as we catch our breath. Was Terrance a flawed individual who went to war? Or is he a scarred veteran trying to deal with the residual anger of war? Has he crossed the Rubicon?

This is the type of independent cinema I thoroughly enjoy. It is bold, politically agnostic, in your face and provocative. Excellent choices Greg! BRILLIANT! You hit many buttons that are left untouched in today’s indie film world.

Bravo.” – Pericles

After reading, and yes, reveling in these words for a bit, I couldn’t help but think of the long and difficult path the making of this film has been.

J. Reuben Appelman (the writer, and star of the film), and I began working on the script back in the summer of 2007, and the eventual 2008 production was plagued by the usual trappings of low budget independent cinema: no money, borrowed gear, limited time, and little crew. It was so extreme in those circumstances that there were days in which I would literally be the only crew, hand-holding the camera, boom, and tweaking lights all at the same time. I felt like a street performer wielding a strange cacophony of instruments, tied together, desperately trying to keep the beat in this band of one.

In the end though, all these difficulties proved nothing in comparison to road that lie before us as we entered post production.

After nearly a year of editing, J. and I were finally able to come to terms with the grave fact that our film, having been plauged by the above compromises (which included having to omit the shooting of a few scenes), and the actualities of a story’s evolution through the process of filmmaking, simply did not work. Editing, beyond all else, is a battle for tone. It’s akin to walking a tightrope, seeking that balance of consistent and sensical tone that is true to the story, and character of the piece. PERSON OF INTEREST in those early cuts, was like watching a sad battle in which neither side won. We had begun with a script that was in many ways defineable as a ‘psycholigical thriller’, but what we ended up shooting was not that, or at least not successful as that, and had a few missing pieces.

Prior to PERSON OF INTEREST I had edited a number of feature documentary films, and had become used to the idea, and practice of creating stories, and piecing together moments with available footage. In our shared despair of what looked to be the demise of the film we had spent nearly 2 years on, it was J. that first sparked the idea to throw out the script as written, a bold move for the writer, and to dive into the footage, as if it were a documentary of sorts, and allow it to guide the storytelling.

Many times, in these situations, the usual response is to shoot more footage, create new scenes, and indulge more in an effort to ‘make things work’. We didn’t have this luxury, or inclination, and decided to commit ourselves to the idea that there was indeed a film within all of this footage, and that if we listened to it, we could find it.

Working from this ideal, and a new framework based upon our only addition to the film, Terrance Dyer’s voice over monologue, we began the slow, surgical process of creating what is now a work that in so many ways better personifies the ideas we were trying to express going into the making of the film, than the script on which it was based.

The making of this film has indeed been a lesson in listening. Listening to my collaborator, my gut, and most importantly, the footage that we captured. It reminded me of why I do what I do. Why I am so attracted to cinema, and the art of visual storytelling. That though difficult, it can be a somewhat magical process to let yourself go to all these moving parts, and allow the story you are telling, its nuances, its subtext, to emerge gracefully, with the understanding that sometimes it’s not about what you have in mind, but about what you have in front of you.