LEFT TO RIGHT: Los Angeles Group 101 members Jeff Consiglio, Rachel Tejada, Maureen Timpa Hendricks, Aaron Hendricks and Dina Mande.

The vow was simple enough: make one film a month for six consecutive months. Three years later that vow, voiced by five moviemakers weary of slaving in industry jobs, has turned out more than 1,000 films produced by four waves of auteurs bent on making better films—and more of them.

"We had to ask ourselves, 'Why do we bust our asses staying up all night for industry projects, but not our own?'" says Maureen Timpa Hendricks, 30, a freelance producer and co-founder of Los Angeles-based Group 101 Films. "One of us was talking about maybe taking more classes. But we didn't need more classes or more skills—we needed an assignment. We needed a deadline."

The collective has a right to call itself "the most productive team of filmmakers anywhere." Franchised clones of Group 101 now operate in New York, San Francisco, Chicago, Orlando, Prague, Tokyo and Copenhagen, with Dallas, Grand Rapids and Seattle groups coming soon.

The fourth wave of 65 Los Angeles moviemakers currently meets monthly, split into 10 cells grouped by zip code. Each moviemaker shows up with one film each month. The evening is closed to outsiders, helping give moviemakers what organizers call "the freedom to suck."

Each group begins with a specific theme, which is chosen by consensus. "Dirty," "deep secret" and "nudity" are a few of the topics covered. A public screening is held at the conclusion of each wave. Nearly all members shoot on Mini DV; many use Final Cut Pro to edit their work.

The quick deadline and collective feedback, say members, liberates and empowers their creative process, often burdened with perfectionism and procrastination. Co-founder Jeff Consiglio says the group helped him strip away the mystique of moviemaking. "Back in 1996, I made a 20-minute, 35mm film—an attempt to turn myself into a filmmaker," says Consiglio, 42, a freelance editor. "It cost $50,000 and put me in debt. Group 101 destroyed the preciousness you tend to hold around a personal project. Members spend about $20 to $60 to make their films. And if it sucks, well, it's 30 days out of their lives."

Maureen Timpa Hendricks’ Alarm

Aaron Hendricks’ Urban Legends

Dina Mande’s A Dog Story

Jeff Consiglio’s Blind

Crank out 1,000 films in under three years and you're bound to attract attention. IFILM showcases the group's films on its Website. Two months ago, American Movie Classics was frantically searching for horror shorts to air between features during its annual Monsterfest Week telecast. AMC learned of Group 101, which swung into action, and in 30 days shipped scores of submissions. Chosen films will earn filmmakers $1,000 per 50- to 80-second film.

Dave Skaff launched a San Francisco Group 101 chapter in January, producing nine moviemakers and nine films. "San Francisco has a great independent film community with great independent film houses," says Skaff, who works as a freelance producer, director and writer. "We plan to approach them in the future for screenings."

Many 101 chapters are franchised, and pay a $250 fee to use the LA group's extensive organizational and Website materials (how groups operate, themes, producing, crew, equipment, shooting, etc.).

Serena Schonbrun discovered Group 101 on the Internet and clicked on the link, "Want to start a chapter in your own town?" She began with 10 Chicago moviemakers in March 2002, and soon launched a Website, www.group312films.com. "We've had two well-attended public screenings to date, and will have a third in early October," says Schonbrun.

"I started the group because I lacked time," says Schonbrun. "I work at a time-consuming ad agency, and needed another medium to express my ideas." The chance to plumb the group for cast and crew also appealed to her. "Filmmaking is a team-oriented form of creative expression," she says. "I like to call it 'sport art.' Group 312 has helped me get to know all the other teams and players in town."

On a hot August evening, 10 Group 101 moviemakers gathered in a Los Angeles loft to review their latest crop of films. The rules are simple and direct: each film is shown; the moviemaker tells what he or she liked, didn't like and learned about creating the piece; each member shares in a similar fashion. Miss a month and you're punished (methods are determined by group consensus). Miss two months and you're out.

Dedication runs high. On this night, two members away on trips sent in films, one via e-mail. And one discussed her film with the group via speakerphone. Michael Medaglia is on his second Group 101 wave. "It's wonderful to meet others as insane and dedicated as you are," says Medaglia, 27, who works as an Internet programmer. "Before you know it, you've made six films. Right off, I learned that you need a clear idea of what's going to work in 30 days. You can't make the 20-minute narrative epic. I ditched a lot of ideas."

Some members' shorts are featured on the group's Website, www.group101films.com, a one-stop shop for swapping tips, equipment, apartments to film in and the most visited link: actors, paired with headshots and links to films they've appeared in.

The chance to have the same people review one's work month after month is a revelation to many members, says Hendricks: "People start calling you on your crutches—'You always end your film this way and it's become a cheap dodge. Why don't you try something else?'"

The chance to experiment and try concepts he otherwise wouldn't touch lured Medaglia back for a second round. "I had this great idea of an underwater shark attack that starts out with lots of gnashing teeth, but you discover it's a Halloween apple bobbing contest," he says. "I thought shooting underwater couldn't be that different from land.

"I was in a Jacuzzi, breathing through a tube, a clothespin on my nose, bottles full of sand strapped to my swimming trunks to weigh me down. You're moving, the camera's moving, the props are moving, the actors are moving—everything's moving. The lens was fogging up and I had one finger on the casing which had sprung a leak. If I had eight arms, it would have worked better."

At the meeting, Medaglia walked to the DV player to show his project. Aaron Hendricks, husband of Maureen Hendricks and the meeting's mentor, looked up from his notes and laughed: "This better be good." MM