Fledgling films

`I Was a Teenage Filmmaker' at the Coolidge

No us trying to hide it: this column screams self-interest. My object is to coax you, busy reader, to an evening of film that I've proudly curated. Mark your calendar for December 20 at 7:30 p.m. for "I Was a Teenage Filmmaker" at the Coolidge Corner, five audacious professional-level shorts written, directed, and shot (on video) through Vermont's Fledgling Films by a crew of high-school kids who will come down for the screening and a Q&A. Among the shorts are a superb futurist "mockumentary" about a girl undergoing insta-plastic surgery at the prodding of her boyfriend and a harrowing real-life visit with Vermont's homeless teenage girls. The lot were produced at a three-week 1999 summer workshop under the supervision of Jay Craven, the much-respected regionalist filmmaker of Where the River Flows North and A Stranger in the Kingdom. I was so impressed by the quality and precocity of these tapes (also, they're infinitely more honest than what's produced by most university filmmaking students) that, in the summer of 2000, I decided to observe for myself how these works get made.

So one balmy June day, I drove north by northwest into Vermont's Eastern Kingdom. Three and a half hours out of Boston, I pulled up in the middle of an afternoon outside shoot. The scene: a pizza-delivery man arrives at his destination and makes mention of the demise of the household's father. The mother is mystified; her 15-year-old daughter has made up the story. The pizza-delivery guy and the mother are being played by seasoned adult professional actors. The rest of the cast are raw high-school kids, as are the co-directors and, with some college-student assistance, virtually the whole crew.

For a run-through, the teen assistant director peers into the video camera. "The shot is good, but it gets a little dark as the guy walks away."

The teen director concurs: "Spill makes the other side of his face darker."

The teen director of photography: "Okay, we'll open it up a little bit."

The assistant director (with authority): "Quiet on the set! Camera!"

The shooting ensues, and cast and crew go to work. I am amazed: all these youths, 14 to 17 years old, male and female, completely immersed in filmmaking. There's no goofing about on the set; there are no bursts of pubescent giggling. It's just like every other shoot I've observed, including the Hollywood kind.

During a break, I talk with the adult actress, Darri Colton, a former New Yorker who moved to Vermont for the quality of life: "I have two kids I'm raising." And being directed by kids? "It's hard to remember they are high-school students. They really take their work seriously. Very pleasant, and I've been given sophisticated direction and line readings."

The script has been written mostly by the boy operating the boom mike, though everyone has contributed lines. And there's no taking over by adults. During this shoot (one of three going on simultaneously), Jay Craven sits under a tree a hundred yards away working on his computer. "In many ways," he explains, "it's easier to get high-school kids focused than college ones. They are still fresh, idealistic, and hopeful, with unmitigated passion. Last year we produced 10 movies in three weeks, which made the most motivated kids go forward, but the less motivated held back. This year we are making only three movies, but they are all more ambitious. We have 16 college-age interns and three adult leaders, which makes 19 mentors for 31 kids. We are creating the culture of a professional film shoot. The adults function as supportive producers. We try to give as much leeway as possible."

There was a problem earlier on: a script in development seemed, Craven thought, demeaning to women, which was "contrary to our mandate." He discussed this at length with the crew. "It was a catharsis, a kick in the ass: they hadn't had the experience of thinking about expanded roles for women. Three hours later, they were doing rewrites, and excited." John Griesemer, the New Hampshire-based professional film actor (Matewan, Eight Men Out) who plays the pizza-delivery man, adds: "Each of three years, I've helped out Jay in the workshops. Earlier, there was less decisiveness with the kids, and Jay sometimes guided them through, saying, `This is the shot I want.' This year is more focused. The kids are young, but able. Given the tedium of filmmaking, it's a ripe breeding ground for screwing around. They don't. They really want to make films."

Fledgling Films makes do on an astonishingly austere $80,000 per summer, which includes paying a small staff and providing the housing (at an off-season ski lodge) and feeding 31 people. Students pay $1850 for three weeks, though many are on partial scholarships. Additional revenue comes in, depending on the year, from the NEA and/or the MacArthur Foundation.

Craven gets the last word: "I try not to be heavyhanded, but I'm the one raising the money all year, the one who writes grant applications and explains that we're not here to imitate Hollywood slasher movies and cop films. We realize how saturated everyone is with mass media, and so, here in rural Vermont, we work to get away from it."

---

The Film Culture archive

---