Is There Life After Film School?
Of course there is. Heck, you're looking at it. However, when a friend recently solicited some film school anecdotes and details for a script she's working on, I had even more to say that I thought I would. Correspondence follows:
Hmmm...film school stereotypes 101...If you've seen "Art School Confidential", the writing class scenes in "Storytelling" (an especially accurate portrayal of what the critiques are like), or the UCLA scene at the beginning of "The Doors", they all pretty much hit the nail on the head.
A few things that come to mind:
The Spielberg Jr.: there's always some clean-cut kid in a baseball cap who thinks "Empire of the Sun" is the best movie ever made, and who insists on making movie after movie about little boys, which is totally creepy. Successful examples include Robert Zemeckis and Chris Columbus (USC and NYU, respectively.) Unsuccessful examples include that guy in my class at NYU who's short film was a $60k rip-off of Spielberg's Amazing Stories episode and now works in the tape vault at Extra.
The Angry Young Woman: Think Heather from the Blair Witch Project. Bossy, pushy, confuses aggressive and rude for proactive, usually makes the film she denies is an autobiography about the little girl who's upset because all her friends have already gotten their boobies and she hasn't yet. Most likely to have an on-set mutiny, but if she gets her act together can make a half-decent producer.
The Angry Young Gay Man: Despite what the media may want you to believe, just because you're same-sex-oriented doesn't necessarily mean you're creative. Usually sporting multiple piercings, with a possible goth/drag crossover, makes thinly-veiled autobiographical films about cross-dressing heroin addicts who commit suicide. Lives for that insert shot of the heroin bubbling in the spoon. Most likely to storm out of a screening after said film induces unintentional giggles.
Trustafarians who constantly complain about how poor they are, but have never actually held a job. Often known to only come to weeks 1 and 13 of class, then cry about how Gramma died (apparently for the 4th time) and still get an A. (Remember, most film schools are private schools, and film programs tend to have little or no scholarship options, so they're more concerned with keeping the money coming than weeding out slackers.) In the 90's, most of this type took to dressing like East Village indigents using Bergdorf-Goodman designer grunge clothes.
Per above, the only two grades in film school are B+ and A-. B+ is the better grade, because it means you're legitimately doing well but your instructor doesn't want you to get a big head and lose all motivation. A- means your Gramma died. In order to get anything lower, you have to physically assault your instructor.
Dumb jocky guys who were popular in high school tend to make two kinds of films: rip-offs of "Die Hard" shot on their dorm floor with toy guns, and films where the main dramatic conflict is some dude who has to go to the can really bad but can't quite seem to make it there. Only interested in filmmaking for the chicks they intend to score, they typically lose interest when they find out how much work it really is, and rarely, if ever, make it to graduation.
Fake-it-till-you-make-it Kids who have expensive cell phones/PDAs, designer sunglasses, SUV's, linen business cards for a production company that doesn't actually exist, and all sorts of professional "connections" of dubious veracity. Actual quote from one about his proposed thesis film: "Yeah, I had a meeting with James L. Brooks' company about the film, and they really want us to make it." Whatever that means.
Most of the instructors fall into the same general category: ne'er-do-well ex-aspiring film types who claim that they find teaching more fulfilling than working for the man, but are usually boiling over with resentment for their students, who at least haven't failed yet. Consistently prone to giving tactless, off-the-cuff feedback (i.e. that shot ruins your entire film, you should make it a musical, it wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be) and advice, which, when followed, will be later disowned and criticized with equal scorn. Some are benevolent and love everything (see: Paula Abdul on American Idol), while others are threatened by dust bunnies and will constantly invoke the wisdom of the most famous person they've ever worked with via nickname (e.g. "Marty [Scorsese] would have laughed you out of the room with that shot!") Chips on shoulders start at manhole cover size, and get bigger from there. There are also a lot of glory days stories told about awful films as if they were classics; one cinematography teacher endlessly waxed sentimental about his time with Halle Berry and Martin Landau making the film "B.A.P.S.", and called the director of "Jason Goes to Hell" a genius. He also blamed the financial failure of the previous film on the poor color-correction of the release print.
Stakes and tensions constantly run unrealistically high. Every film, even the freshman silent projects shot on super-8 (or these days, cheap video) are potential career-makers, the next "2001: A Space Odyssey", or "my ticket to the big leagues". Best friends becoming worst enemies after working together and massive blame-games are common occurrences, as well as massive unexplained dropouts after first or second semester. Most often heard excuse for a failed project: "You don't understand, it's part of a trilogy."
All the films suck. No, really, all of them. Short of the thesis level, where some people can afford to hire enough professionals to basically make their films for them, few student films even pass the watch-able mark. Mistakes tend to be huge, i.e. half the film is out of focus, the sound is completely unintelligible, the lead is the filmmaker's boyfriend/girlfriend who can't act (or, worse yet, the filmmaker him/herself), or the production design unintentionally evokes porn. This is largely because...
Everyone wants to be an auteur. (i.e. Everyone wants to be the next George Lucas.) Which is a problem, because few film students are actually writers, which is easily the more important, and difficult, half of being an auteur, yet firmly insist upon writing every project themselves. Most are just in it for the clout they imagine they'll receive as a famous director, i.e. "Take that mom and dad and that cheerleader who laughed when I asked her to homecoming!" Fewer still actually enjoy (or even understand) directing once they finally get a chance to do it.
Sound people are mean. In the interest of making students somewhat employable after graduation, film schools tend to try to funnel/strong-arm students into learning a technical job (sound, editing, camerawork, etc.) and away from the funeral pyre of their directorial aspirations. (To quote one instructor, "the director is always the least talented guy on the set.") More active/outdoorsy types tend to go into cinematography, computer nerds become editors (hiya!), and pushy/spoiled types with no discernible talent become producers. Sound people, therefore, are the Trenchcoat Mafia of film school; cliquish, dejected, nerdy but not actually technically inclined per se, they gravitate towards the one profession where they're guaranteed a horrible quality of life and an awful respect-to-labor ratio, which means they'll never run out of people to hate or things to bitch about. As a result, they're consistently curt, snappy, condescending (i.e. "I'd explain how the digital nagra's sync output works, but you'd never be able to understand it"), bureaucratic, and generally unpleasant to be around.
Whew. I guess that's the most of it. Exaggerated for humorous effect, of course...but only a little. If there's anything more specific you need to know, I'd be happy to unload more baggage at any time. :D
That is all.
Hmmm...film school stereotypes 101...If you've seen "Art School Confidential", the writing class scenes in "Storytelling" (an especially accurate portrayal of what the critiques are like), or the UCLA scene at the beginning of "The Doors", they all pretty much hit the nail on the head.
A few things that come to mind:
The Spielberg Jr.: there's always some clean-cut kid in a baseball cap who thinks "Empire of the Sun" is the best movie ever made, and who insists on making movie after movie about little boys, which is totally creepy. Successful examples include Robert Zemeckis and Chris Columbus (USC and NYU, respectively.) Unsuccessful examples include that guy in my class at NYU who's short film was a $60k rip-off of Spielberg's Amazing Stories episode and now works in the tape vault at Extra.
The Angry Young Woman: Think Heather from the Blair Witch Project. Bossy, pushy, confuses aggressive and rude for proactive, usually makes the film she denies is an autobiography about the little girl who's upset because all her friends have already gotten their boobies and she hasn't yet. Most likely to have an on-set mutiny, but if she gets her act together can make a half-decent producer.
The Angry Young Gay Man: Despite what the media may want you to believe, just because you're same-sex-oriented doesn't necessarily mean you're creative. Usually sporting multiple piercings, with a possible goth/drag crossover, makes thinly-veiled autobiographical films about cross-dressing heroin addicts who commit suicide. Lives for that insert shot of the heroin bubbling in the spoon. Most likely to storm out of a screening after said film induces unintentional giggles.
Trustafarians who constantly complain about how poor they are, but have never actually held a job. Often known to only come to weeks 1 and 13 of class, then cry about how Gramma died (apparently for the 4th time) and still get an A. (Remember, most film schools are private schools, and film programs tend to have little or no scholarship options, so they're more concerned with keeping the money coming than weeding out slackers.) In the 90's, most of this type took to dressing like East Village indigents using Bergdorf-Goodman designer grunge clothes.
Per above, the only two grades in film school are B+ and A-. B+ is the better grade, because it means you're legitimately doing well but your instructor doesn't want you to get a big head and lose all motivation. A- means your Gramma died. In order to get anything lower, you have to physically assault your instructor.
Dumb jocky guys who were popular in high school tend to make two kinds of films: rip-offs of "Die Hard" shot on their dorm floor with toy guns, and films where the main dramatic conflict is some dude who has to go to the can really bad but can't quite seem to make it there. Only interested in filmmaking for the chicks they intend to score, they typically lose interest when they find out how much work it really is, and rarely, if ever, make it to graduation.
Fake-it-till-you-make-it Kids who have expensive cell phones/PDAs, designer sunglasses, SUV's, linen business cards for a production company that doesn't actually exist, and all sorts of professional "connections" of dubious veracity. Actual quote from one about his proposed thesis film: "Yeah, I had a meeting with James L. Brooks' company about the film, and they really want us to make it." Whatever that means.
Most of the instructors fall into the same general category: ne'er-do-well ex-aspiring film types who claim that they find teaching more fulfilling than working for the man, but are usually boiling over with resentment for their students, who at least haven't failed yet. Consistently prone to giving tactless, off-the-cuff feedback (i.e. that shot ruins your entire film, you should make it a musical, it wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be) and advice, which, when followed, will be later disowned and criticized with equal scorn. Some are benevolent and love everything (see: Paula Abdul on American Idol), while others are threatened by dust bunnies and will constantly invoke the wisdom of the most famous person they've ever worked with via nickname (e.g. "Marty [Scorsese] would have laughed you out of the room with that shot!") Chips on shoulders start at manhole cover size, and get bigger from there. There are also a lot of glory days stories told about awful films as if they were classics; one cinematography teacher endlessly waxed sentimental about his time with Halle Berry and Martin Landau making the film "B.A.P.S.", and called the director of "Jason Goes to Hell" a genius. He also blamed the financial failure of the previous film on the poor color-correction of the release print.
Stakes and tensions constantly run unrealistically high. Every film, even the freshman silent projects shot on super-8 (or these days, cheap video) are potential career-makers, the next "2001: A Space Odyssey", or "my ticket to the big leagues". Best friends becoming worst enemies after working together and massive blame-games are common occurrences, as well as massive unexplained dropouts after first or second semester. Most often heard excuse for a failed project: "You don't understand, it's part of a trilogy."
All the films suck. No, really, all of them. Short of the thesis level, where some people can afford to hire enough professionals to basically make their films for them, few student films even pass the watch-able mark. Mistakes tend to be huge, i.e. half the film is out of focus, the sound is completely unintelligible, the lead is the filmmaker's boyfriend/girlfriend who can't act (or, worse yet, the filmmaker him/herself), or the production design unintentionally evokes porn. This is largely because...
Everyone wants to be an auteur. (i.e. Everyone wants to be the next George Lucas.) Which is a problem, because few film students are actually writers, which is easily the more important, and difficult, half of being an auteur, yet firmly insist upon writing every project themselves. Most are just in it for the clout they imagine they'll receive as a famous director, i.e. "Take that mom and dad and that cheerleader who laughed when I asked her to homecoming!" Fewer still actually enjoy (or even understand) directing once they finally get a chance to do it.
Sound people are mean. In the interest of making students somewhat employable after graduation, film schools tend to try to funnel/strong-arm students into learning a technical job (sound, editing, camerawork, etc.) and away from the funeral pyre of their directorial aspirations. (To quote one instructor, "the director is always the least talented guy on the set.") More active/outdoorsy types tend to go into cinematography, computer nerds become editors (hiya!), and pushy/spoiled types with no discernible talent become producers. Sound people, therefore, are the Trenchcoat Mafia of film school; cliquish, dejected, nerdy but not actually technically inclined per se, they gravitate towards the one profession where they're guaranteed a horrible quality of life and an awful respect-to-labor ratio, which means they'll never run out of people to hate or things to bitch about. As a result, they're consistently curt, snappy, condescending (i.e. "I'd explain how the digital nagra's sync output works, but you'd never be able to understand it"), bureaucratic, and generally unpleasant to be around.
Whew. I guess that's the most of it. Exaggerated for humorous effect, of course...but only a little. If there's anything more specific you need to know, I'd be happy to unload more baggage at any time. :D
That is all.