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Hilary at the Austin Film Festival Pt. 3


Hi everyone.

At the close of the Austin Film Festival,
I can safely estimate that this industry is a bizarre balance between the realm of portentious possibilities versus the bracketed belief system of unending
impossibilties. I've never heard so many people say "never give up" and "but you might as well forget it, because it's impossible" in the breath, much less the
same sentence. How do people actually EXIST in this dualistic tension??

Monarch butterflies purposefully tilt across the highways here, where everyone else hurtles along at
indescribable speeds. Entire seasonal changes can happen all in the same day. Cell phones magically fail to operate right when your mother calls to warn you that tornadoes are heading straight for the movie premiere. And I'd forgotten about the thunder showers in Texas, too.  How the gods have enormous metal trashcan lids that they bash upside the head of
downtown.

What is different about this now is the silence that follows for few seconds. Everyone waits to hear the screaming. If there's screaming: it's an explosion. If not: just a thunderstorm.

In the midst of all this, you are just trying to get your movie made. It's impossible. But don't give up.

Presenters will actually APPEAL to the fledgling  writers in their audience: PLEASE don't give up.

Approach them directly afterwards, however, and you become just another blip on the bracketed radar screen
defining the limits of who and what they know.

"Will you help me?" "Can't. What you are asking for is impossible. But good luck. Don't give up."

5-4-3-2-1. NEXT!


  
Working film professionals have attention spans that last just a few seconds. You can see the countdown happening in their eyes. If you and your idea are deemed worthy and interesting enough, you are granted extra seconds. "Tell me more." If not: not. "Sorry. Good luck. Next!"

I wasn't pitching a story. I was given a task to complete. When a studio calls you and says, "If you bring us your script via a film professional at an executive level who has a working relationship with us, maybe we will read it." well then, that's a task.

And in a way I'm glad I had a task. I didn't have to suffer the humiliation of pitching my story, either via rapid jaunts down hallways between panel discussions or--horrors!--actually SIGNING UP for
"practice" pitch sessions. I sat in on one of these and cringed for these poor souls so publically flayed for the cause of good storytelling.

Four days in a surreal never-never land, where everything impossible is possible.

The first few days were magical. Especially since The Important Ones
hadn't had all their friends arrive yet, and were unable to group themselves in dark corners. Once this happens, it becomes too daunting; what, laser in and
break up the cluster? Like, "Hi, Mr. Famous Director. I'm Hilary. Sorry to interrupt. Oh and hi you, and you and you too, and yes you, hi. Hi. Look, will you help me?"

Hint: get to the film festival early. Even if you can't introduce yourself during the first couple of days, you'll be able to see the Famous Ones clusters forming. By Day Three or Four, you'll recognise Friends of Famous Ones...and if it's mostly friends in the cluster, by the third or fourth day it's safe to guess that they've caught up on each other's news. Which means: it's okay to introduce yourself.

  
Did I do this? Yes. Many times. Did I run after Famous Ones? Yes. I did. I even surprised myself by coming up with impromptu excuses as to just why I was running after them. Did I make a lasting impression? (Do I care?!) I don't know.

But I don't intend to be a butterfly blip. The future is a series of possibilities to choose from, and my current script is going to be one of those possibilities. Despite the improbabilities. So the
dramatic tension still exists as more of these steps are danced in limbo land.

Examples to follow. Stay tuned.

cheers--Hilary