Have you ever tried to convince someone
to stop walking because they've become unknowingly enmeshed in your
almost invisible Balloon Control Line?
From the general lack of success we had in getting people to stop
moving once they were caught in our lines, I gather it's something
akin to panhandling. And it wasn't just a Parisian thing or limitation
due to any language barrier - we had this problem while testing
the string in LA, too. People don't like to stop. Maybe they think
it's some elaborate scheme to "roll" them for their cash.
Well, if I was going to roll someone for cash, I certainly hope
I would have a less ridiculous way of stopping them than saying
"Excuse me, you're walking through my Balloon Control Line."
I began making The Revenge of the Red Balloon in late 1999 and finished
in 2000. Filmed in Paris - in the same neighborhoods as The Red
Balloon - The Revenge of the Red Balloon picks up where the original
film left off. Only now, it's 40 years later. For those of you who
are unfamiliar with the Oscar-winning French classic, the story
goes like this: a magical red balloon befriends a small boy in Paris,
where they pal around until the neighborhood bullies (who want the
balloon for themselves) throw rocks at the balloon until it pops.
In what could probably be considered one of cinema's saddest moments,
the red balloon dies a lingering, deflating and unnecessary death.
In my movie, the balloon is back - and he's pissed!!
Hunting down the same bad little boys (now middle-aged men) who
burst him so many years ago, the balloon is out to settle the score
and stalks his former tormentors through the streets of Paris.
I first came up with the idea for the film after watching the slates
of really cruel films that seemed to be popular on the festival
circuit. I thought I'd make fun of the trend by taking the absolute
sweetest icon of my youth (The Red Balloon) and giving it the "edge"
that everyone seems to want in LA.
The filming of The Revenge of the Red Balloon had some interesting
built-in hurdles: where to shoot (actually in Paris?), how to hire
actors, how to introduce myself as "the director" in French
and, of course, how to say "Excuse me, but you're stepping
in my Balloon Control Line." Things started to work themselves
out bit by bit, as my friends Brian Sawyer and Ralph Smith agreed
to come to Paris and co-produce the film. (Ralph was also the director
of photography, having shot other films of mine and films of Brian's
with a masterful eye and can-do approach). When we were then joined
by my brother Steve (who speaks fluent French and was able to help
me draft many letters to French agents asking to audition their
clients), the problems seemed to be much more manageable.
For the most part, we shot with Kodak 7293 - film that had been
sitting in my fridge for the past three years, since I won a Kodak
product grant for my USC thesis film, The Grail Guy, which won a
Student Emmy. We also shot some sequences to look similar to the
original film when Ralph brilliantly recommended using reversal
film and cross processing it, then using the cross-processed footage
as negative.
We used Ralph's Bolex Rex-5 camera and some borrowed lenses to shoot
the film, something that gave us great freedom to move quickly and
grab shots on the fly. It was this same ease that made for some
interesting conversations as we tried to persuade customs agents
they did not need to open (and expose) our 60 separate 100-foot
load daylight spools - all of which were taped up in suspicious-looking
old black film boxes.
Still, foreign customs aside, one of the biggest hurdles we needed
to overcome actually occurred before leaving LA. We needed to find
some sort of wire or line with which we could control the balloon,
but would not be visible on film. I bought every sort of different
fishing line I could find and quickly discovered that transparent
fishing line is not as "practically invisible" as the
labels promise. The stuff practically glowed on camera. It was like
there was more light coming from it than there was landing on it.
After testing out every sort of fishing line and thread we could
find, we were able to come up with a few clear-cut rules: the Clear
Blue fishing line worked against the sun and sky, but stood out
against trees and buildings. The Gray Transparent sewing thread
snapped as soon as the breeze grew strong enough to actually qualify
as a breeze (two lost balloons will prove that fact). This only
left the Maxima Chameleon - special fishing line from Germany -
and it was perfect. Thin as a human hair and strong enough to hold
the balloon in any weather condition. We were set to shoot.
My goal was to have as much of the Paris legwork done as far in
advance as possible. Searching out places to stay, finding transportation,
acquiring production resources, writing inquiry letters to Parisian
agents - I was terrified the production was going to go up in smoke
until I started to get French headshots. I couldn't believe it;
they do it just like we do - a big silly picture of the actor on
the front, credits and pertinent information on the back. 'They're
just like us' I thought. It wasn't until we hit French ground that
I realized this was not the case.
"Everyone in Paris was so rude!"
"No one would speak to us!"
"French people are snotty!"
Who hasn't heard the old stories of friends and relatives lost in
Paris, suffering at the whims of sardonic Frenchies? Well, here's
the thing: I have never encountered more people who went out of
their way to help than I did in France.
Armed with my high school French skills - decimating their language
and speaking my own brand of Pidgin French - the Parisian cast,
crew, vendors, strangers and friends of friends who helped in the
production were all quite wonderful.
Having shot numerous films in LA,
I know for a fact that this film could not have been made here.
Aside from the fact that the look would have been all wrong, the
actual logistics could not have been achieved here. The thing that
I discovered is that there is a fundamental difference between how
people in Paris look at movies, moviemaking and moviemakers - and
how those in LA do.
In France, they respect us.
We shot without a permit (admittedly, it was a small crew of five
people at most), blocked alleyways and small streets, and occasionally
obstructed entrances to stores. And whenever we inquired of the
store owners or neighborhood folk if we were bothering them, the
answer was always "Mais non.
Pas de probleme." Translation: No problem.
This "no problem" attitude continued when the opportunity
(accidentally) surfaced to cast one of the most important roles
in the film - The Little Boy. Though I had contacted several agents
about finding a little boy to represent the child in the original
film, I had had no luck. Then, one day, while trying to film the
balloon's solitary flight up an alleyway, a small boy and his father
walked by. The kid looked so much like the little boy in the original
film that it was immediately clear he'd be perfect for the role.
I ran up to the duo and breathlessly blurted out "Excusez moi,
monsieur, mais je fais un court mettrage et j'espere si il est possible
que votre fils pourrait...uh... faire un comediene en mon film"
(In really bad French: "Excuse me sir, but I am making a short
film and I wonder if your son could act in it?") Without missing
a beat, the father replied, in an unbothered way, something to the
effect of "Well, if he wants to, it's okay with me." Since
Vincent (the boy) was excited about it, it was all agreed to within
two minutes, and we quickly resumed getting the Balloon-in-Alley
shot.
The only time we actually had problems shooting was in some of the
high security areas in town. Funny, but when someone goes walking
through the major tourist zones of the city with a huge red balloon
tied to his wrist and he isn't 10 years old (i.e. me), it tends
to attract the attention of various security professionals.
When I wanted a shot of the balloon moving through the Louvre courtyard,
past the famous Pyramid, a young security officer told us that it
was forbidden to shoot on the Louvre's grounds without permission.
When I persisted in explaining that we just needed one shot, he
thought for a moment, then said with a smile, "The Louvre does
not own that" and he pointed to a traffic island a few feet
away. He didn't have to tell us that, but he did.
Likewise, I wanted to see the balloon in front of the Eiffel Tower.
I mean come on, how can you shoot a film in Paris and not get the
balloon crossing in front of the Eiffel Tower? Of course, this is
the most patrolled tourist spot in France, and several guards quickly
made their way over to us as we set up the camera. One guard made
a fuss of looking through my passport and told us we would have
to leave. Yet the moment his colleagues wandered off to deal with
some other evil transgressors, he told us quietly "Okay, go
ahead, but please try to be quick." An hour later we finished
(the balloon was finicky that day), but during that hour no one
bothered us.
What I discovered in all of this was how much French people value
ideas and the creation of art. Not that I would have termed what
we were doing as making art - we were just shooting a short film
- but therein lies the difference. French people did view our film
as art, and they value that.
I guess I had never thought about why France was such a breeding
ground of statements in ideas, painting, sculpture, even in fashion
and food. But now, having been there and having been a part of the
creative mix, I get it... they respect creativity of any size or
dimension.
Sure, our production wasn't without its problems. At the lab, they
were rude. (Not rude because they were French - just rude because
they were jerks.) And the Metro strikes that kept popping up (on
one occasion we had to carry the camera equipment and 50 pound helium
tank two miles in the rain) were not a welcome surprise. But I'm
not complaining.
Back in LA, post production went slowly as I found there were far
fewer things that could be gotten for free here than in France.
Eventually, though, the film moved forward. Sound designer Bill
Whittington did an excellent job making the all-important sound
in the film shine, and Louis Febre created some awesome music.
But for me, the most amazing part of the process had been in making
the film in Paris - an experience that showed how great moviemaking
can be. I loved it, and I loved working with people who were interested
and excited about making it all come together. MM
The Revenge of the Red Balloon can be viewed online at www.atomfilms.com
