
Scoring the bling to fund your movie is just a plane flight
away. |
When screening an awful film for the first time, two questions loom in
mind of a potential distributor: 1) "How long before I see some tits?" and 2)
"Who paid for this crap?" The answers he seeks are always the same: 1) "Within
the first three minutes," and 2) "Bored dentists in Akron, Ohio."
The second
answer may surprise aspiring awful filmmakers, who assume that high-interest
credit cards are the lifeblood of the industry. While it's true that VISA and
Mastercard shoulder the initial burden of indie filmmaking, the bulk of the film's
financing can usually be traced back to respectable neighborhoods in the
American Midwest. In fact, experts now believe that up to 70 percent of the
films with the words "Kung Fu" or "Spring Break" in the title have been paid for
by solid citizens who live in the affluent suburbs of Omaha and Denver. Aspiring
awful filmmakers should be aware of this hidden source of funding, and start
familiarizing themselves with that vast stretch of land between New York City
and Los Angeles. Before you start pricing flights to Omaha, here are some
tips to make your pledge drive more successful:
1) Why you avoid the locals You can always find a sugar
daddy in LA or NYC; both cities are full of bored insurance lawyers and real
estate developers just itching to empty their wallets in exchange for
invitations to premieres and cast parties stocked with hot-looking women of
questionable virtue. Unfortunately, these people want something else, too: to
get their money back. With interest. Though not directly affiliated with the
movie business, their close proximity to Hollywood has made them very aware of
the entertainment industry's curious accounting methods and fictional budget
projections. So before any cash changes hands, the awful filmmaker will be
besieged with requests for letters of intent, distribution agreements and --
worst of all -- a list of the revenue from your past "hits."
2) Get nostalgic These hardball terms make an awful filmmaker yearn
for a simpler time, when movie deals could be closed with a
handshake, and people were willing to drain their entire retirement fund
for a "co-producer" credit. Maybe it's time to (temporarily) return to your
roots, reflect on life, and contemplate the future. In other words, it's time to
go back to your hometown in Ohio, and shake down your high school friends for
money, just like you used to.
3) Lay
the groundwork Before you start, you’ll need to make sure your old
pals know all about your glamorous new career. Create a PR campaign aimed at
everyone you know with a working email address, starting a few months before a major holiday
weekend or college reunion. This will give you time to bring everyone up to
speed on the carefully edited version of your life in "The Industry." In your
notes, casually mention the nonstop parties and premieres that make up the
glittering world of the independent filmmaker -- and his investors. Bascially, imply
that your life is a nonstop episode of Entourage. When questioned
for details about your next film project, send everyone a link to a hastily
created MySpace page covered with voluptuous women gift-wrapped in slinky
lingerie, all of whom leave you messages about "stopping by later for an audition."
4) Conduct background checks Next, write up a prospective donor
list. A little Googling of your childhood compadres should provide
clues to who’s been raking in the dough since you moved away. According to
Google, the Akron Fine Arts Museum has just named a wing after your old high
school girlfriend. You remember, the one who said she’d love you forever. Hmmm,
sounds like someone you can work with. Here’s another potential revenue
stream just waiting to be drained: Yahoo News reports your college roommate just
sold his family farm for $20 million. Nice! Call him now, while
he’s still listed in the phone book.
5) Plan a party As Hometown Visit Week nears, start inviting these
people to have cocktails with you, as movie investing is seldom done sober.
Shamelessly use your parents house as your base of operations. Have your
"publicist" call the local paper and suggest they do a feature story on you and
your upcoming film, and have it run the week of the reunion. Most small-town
papers love the local-boy-or-girl-finally-does-something-cool story. It will
reinforce the painful contrast between your amazing life, and the dreary,
predictable existence of everyone you left behind.
6) Cast your posse Finally, you'll need to recruit a temporary
entourage to accompany you on your trip. This group will be comprised of your
equally destitute co-producers, your starving film crew, and everyone's
unemployable-but-sexy girlfriends tol serve as attractive props. Their job
is simply to look good and reinforce the fraudulent tales you’ve been spinning,
while you stand by faking embarrassment and modestly begging them to stop. Don't
take any chances -- rehearse "talking points" with your team beforehand, so no
one blurts out any unhelpful stories, like the hilarious one about your car
getting repossessed, or how you’re still getting money from your mom.
7) Get the party started Once you’ve gotten your rich friends under
one roof and drunk on cheap champagne, it's time to make your move. After regaling the
crowd with yet another Sundance threesome story, casually mention that you still
have a few investment opportunities available for your upcoming film "Revenge of
the Alligator Women," so if they know anyone who might want to go to the
Oscars… (Note: Whenever you're hitting up your guy friends, always make sure that
two of the hottest female members of your entourage are stationed nearby, either
rubbing your back or playfully unbuttoning your shirt.) Of course, it's your
duty to remind them that investing in a film is a risky business, and that it
may take "a few years" to recoup the money, "if at all" (at this point, the
girls should be making out with each other), but there are a lot of fringe
benefits to be had (shoot a quick glance at the girls) in the meantime.
By midnight you should have your old pals on their knees, waving fistfuls of money in
your face. While you're walking around collecting checks, you might casually
mention there's going to be a sequel too… and you'd like to offer them first
crack at investing. Hey, no need to thank you; after all, that's what friends
are for!
Susan Self is a publicist who lives in Los Angeles.
|