“I never ask people for permission to make a film. Instead, I present them with the fact that I’m making a film. If they’re wise, they’ll get in on it early.”
—Francis Ford Coppola

“There’s got to be more to cinema than Indiana Jones.”
—Ron Mann, founder of the Generation D.I.Y. Festival

Last week our unit production manager for Rufus Rex officially started work and I paid UPS an astounding amount of money to deliver a letter to the Republic of Georgia officially inviting our lead actress to the United States. The summer issue of MovieMaker is officially finished and on Saturday, the morning after the fireworks, like clockwork one of my kids whined that, “There’s nothing to dooooo...” So I know that summer has officially begun.

We’re also officially in pre-production on the grassroots (my preferred term, since I dislike “microbudget”—no art should be defined by its budget) movie Rufus Rex, which my 15-year-old son, Nick, and I wrote together last winter. Emily, our UPM, has fired up the Gorilla software to help with the budgeting and scheduling and we’re getting together today to put both of those weighty subjects in sharper focus. We’ve also started the crewing-up process and I have to report that I’m officially humbled at the fact that all these talented people from all these far-flung places want to come to a little town on the coast of Maine this fall to help us make our movie.

How did this all start? Nick and I began our Rufus discussions last October while driving from Portland to Warren, Maine in our 1962 Ford pickup to store the truck in our barn for the winter. The only reason the vehicle model is significant is that if anyone has driven in a pickup of that vintage you’ll know that it isn’t all that easy to keep up a conversation over the din of the road and the rattle of the engine. But we never let the noise interfere with the story we were fleshing out, and to me that ride serves as an apt metaphor for this whole grassroots moviemaking process. The enthusiasm for the idea needs to be powerful enough to allow you to block out all the noise and distractions and keep the wheels rolling toward your destination. You also need an annoyingly ridiculous level of self-confidence. (See the quote above by Mr. Coppola.) As an auteur, if you don’t believe it, ain’t nobody gonna believe it! The ability to first convince yourself that you can and will complete a movie is a prerequisite.

With my first feature it was almost easier because I had little idea about what I was really getting into. With this movie, I know all too well, and despite the challenges and stress I’m determined to enjoy the process anyway. One reason is that Nick has been involved every step of the way thus far.
He and I were bouncing north on Route 1 and he asked me to direct a short that he and his friends were doing. We started talking about characters and Rufus was born. Right then we committed to at least writing a script. If we were happy with the script, we’d talk about shooting it. Six months later, on our schedule of working at least five hours a week (around the holidays we didn’t always make that goal) at coffee shops, in our attic, in the car, wherever, we finished our first draft.

That draft was revised heavily this spring, and the tweaking on draft #3 continues. Many directors will keep futzing with the script until there’s film in the can, but as you know if you’ve ever worked with a contractor, change orders aren’t cheap. I plan to refine the script further over the next few weeks and make as close to zero changes on set as possible. I know that the moviemaking process isn’t going to get any cheaper than it is right now—FedExes to Eurasia notwithstanding.