Category: Filmmaking

Pay-or-Play language is a heavily negotiated contract clause for above-the-line talent. The simplest meaning is this: The commitment by a studio to pay the talent, regardless of whether the studio subsequently determines that such talent’s services are no longer required.

As an aspiring writer, I can tell you some tips that may help you to write and sell your stories for film. While I have never written a film before, I have published two books. If you are writing, but feel stuck on how to prepare your story for a film, here are some tips that may help you.

Every year we make resolutions – as an author, it’s to write more, to keep growing and learning, but how?

One of the many challenges facing writers in our new age of broken barriers and floods of books is how far we all go with our self-promotion. Some of us decide this new age of social promotion is not for us, while others embrace it.

Jordan Peele has called his recent Oscar winner, Get Out (2017), a “social thriller,”but what does he mean by that? Let’s see…In a recent CNN interview, Peele states that as a child he told a scary story around a campfire (an iconic storytelling image!), and seeing his classmates’ spellbound reaction, he realized that:“Wow! What was my fear, it’s kind of become my power, and wielding that artistry felt good.”In writing the screenplay that became the filmGet Out, Peele wielded the power of storytelling he had discovered as a child to explore 21st-century race relations in the United States. And as he wrote, not far from his mind was the legacy ofGeorge Romero‘s first film, about which he says in the same CNN interview: “50 years ago we had ‘Night of the Living Dead’ which was about race and that should have opened up the conversation for more films in that “social thriller” genre.”As part of this genre, Peele also mentionsRosemary’s Baby(1968) andThe Stepford Wives(1975).Peel ends the CNN interview saying:“There is a need for stories that allow an audience to commune, to come together in a theater, not just at home, but a theater, to experience something together, and for stories that promote that empathy and deal with these sort of untold truths but also provide an escape and a fun time. That’s what I’m committed to doing.”Don’t forget to check out the recent re-release ofNight of the Living DeadonThe Criterion Collectionand see all of Jordan Peel’s CNN interview at:‘Get Out’ director: My fear has become my power.

Taking Diab Fattah’s picture could change everything – it would raise all kinds of red flags regarding Hugo Chavez’s associations with international terrorists and it would shed a light on the threat Venezuela now posed to America’s national security. * * *The camera was pointed straight at Fattah – the anticipation… the fear… all of it made my heart pound so loud I thought everybody in the car could hear it.Once I looked at him, I could not keep my eyes off him.I stared right at him and he right at me, but the reflective nature of the protective film on the SUV windows made it hard for us to see each other clearly, let alone nail the perfect shot. There was a very small opening here… a specific angle that in combination with the right sunlight, could give us just what we needed – enough definition… a recognizable face. But the traffic light went green and the moment was gone just as quickly as it came.We followed Fattah’s SUV for a while and all the way to his shop, “La Gran Dama”. We tried to blend in and slowed down enough to watch him exit the SUV and disappear inside the store. With a rush hour in full swing, we drove around the block a few times looking for the perfect parking spot – one that would offer the best, unobstructed views of Fattah’s retail front.The clock was ticking and tensions ran high amongst all members of the team – the likelihood of us being made by his security detail grew with every passing minute; after all, we were sitting inside an SUV covered in bullet holes; the same SUV Fattah’s team chased down and shot at just a few hours earlier.“How much longer before we are made?” – asked Chucho. He was growing impatient.“We don’t have much time left” – responded Anton – “DISIP is looking for us as we speak”“What if we get caught?” – continued Chucho – “What then? Gringos aren’t gonna help us out of this”“What if I just walk in and take the shot?” – I asked – “What if they did not recognize us back there? They would’ve kept us away from here if they did…”“He stared right at you…” – quipped Chucho – “You get caught, we all get caught”“Not if you stay in the car. I go in, you guys take the shot. Use the telephoto lens from across the street… leave the engine running… I get caught you take off”Everyone just stared at me in silence…“Fuck it, let’s do it!”And just like that, I got out of the car…“We don’t need you in there… we can take the pic from here…” – snapped a nervous Anton – “Don’t do this…”“The bodyguards will be distracted with me in the store. It’ll buy you time. Let’s just do this thing. It’s now or never”And just like that, I walked across the street and into “La Gran Dama”. Adrenaline started to rush through my veins and the world around me began to slowly morph. My hearing, my vision… everything was slightly altered. I walked deep into the store without making eye contact with anyone and perused through merchandise without even knowing what I was looking at – all I knew was that there were at least three well trained and heavily armed bodyguards with their eyes pinned on my back. In fact, I could feel them… like pin needles poking at me, taunting me to turn around. But I did not. I did my bit trusting that somebody at the other side of the street was doing his.And just like I went in I went back out of the joint – I had no idea whether the move had been successful; whether a photograph had finally been taken… all I knew was that I had only a few seconds before anyone became suspicious.Shortly after I jumped in the van I locked eyes with one of Fattah’s bodyguards; he knew something wasn’t right; He felt like he knew me from somewhere… he just needed time to put two and two together. But that’s just the way the human brain works; it requires more than a fleeting moment to make these types of connections. A second longer and a more direct look at my face is all it would have taken for him to fully recognize me.There was nothing but silence inside the van as we sped down the road. We all turned nervously around and toward our cameraman for a final verdict…“So…?!?” – Chucho asked – “ Did you get it?”A small smile it’s all it took. We had a single but good shot of Diab Fattah standing behind the counter. The mission was a success! And so it was with a loud “yay”, that we sped away from Diab Fattah and toward the airport – it was time to leave the island.But what if the airport was crawling with Military police and DISIP agents? We were now wanted men. What then? This was, after all, an island… one way in, one way out… Right?For more on “Guerrilla Filmmaking – A True Story”, and the hunt for DIAB FATTAH, come back to storyrocket.com next week.See you then,

We were on the run – I could hear gunshots popping in the distance and the sound of bullets hitting the side of our vehicle. I could feel the engine rev up and down as we swerved around and jumped a few curbs before getting off the road, across a muddy field and onto a narrow highway. We blew through town really fast and my heart started to pound so hard it felt like it was going to blow right out of my chest. I still remember feeling the bitterness of adrenaline as it flooded my mouth and the loud ringing in my ears… all sounds suddenly muffled as my body slowly slipped into a terminal state of numbness. My head was down so I don’t remember the exact time we lost our tail; all I do remember is how for a short instant all I could really see were the street lights as they sped in and out of sight right outside my window.We charged through Porlamar for what seemed like an eternity… all of us hoping for the best.* * *Everyone remained quiet as we rolled slowly toward the hotel to verify it was ok to go inside, but it wasn’t. The streets across it were painted by red and blue flashing lights and flooded by heavy Police presence…“I thought you said they’d never find us here” – quipped a shaky Chucho.“Thank God we never unloaded the equipment…” – cried our camera-man as his biggest concern was the wellbeing of his expensive and sadly uninsured video equipment.Anton broke into a smirk as he pulled out a small piece of paper and held it up for all of us to see…“And what the fuck is that?” – snapped a visibly upset Chucho – “What the fuck’s that piece of paper gonna do for us now?”The crappy handwriting on it spelled the home address of one of the club dancers Anton was planning to hook up with later that night. The set up wasn’t ideal, but then again we were not shooting a finance documentary; we were chasing terrorists… ideal was never going to be in the cards.* * *Felicia was expecting a sex-filled night with a sweaty wad of cash as a reward; instead, she got to spend the night with fugitives she ended up babysitting the very next day. She wasn’t happy, but she was helpful – not only did she know the characters we were running away from, but she could help us get what we wanted: “Diab Fattah”But not everyone thought staying a bit longer to catch a shot of the terrorist was a good idea; in fact, the only two fully in on it was Anton and me. The risks were almost too high and the reward uncertain. Even if we got lucky and got Fattah on camera, there were no assurances our documentary would ever get fully funded and/or picked up by a major network. All valid points; however, we had come too far to turn around now. Anton tried hard to convince them that leaving now would be a mistake; but it wasn’t this that convinced the team that quitting was a bad idea – it was the realization that we were no longer shooting a documentary, but rather producing evidence of Fattah’s whereabouts and of Hugo Chavez’ efforts to protect terrorists set in hurting the U.S.Staying to get the shot simply was the right thing to do.* * *We were fugitives… at least that’s the way two local newspaper articles described us the very next day – “U.S. agents on a mission to destabilize the government”. They of course described the encounter from the night before to a tee but purposely omitted the fact that all gunfire came from a black SUV loaded with fully armed Arabs probably on somebody’s terrorist list. Chucho wasn’t happy; he read the article and became increasingly impatient; and so did my filmmaking team members. It was clear time was running out on our chances of getting Fattah on film; a feat now relying solely on Felicia. Yes, you heard that right; Felicia the exotic dancer!Waiting for Felicia to call while sitting at an open café deck was nerve-wracking, but one thing you learn quickly in this business is that hiding in plain sight is usually the way to go. Fattah’s goons were never going to look for us in open public places; they might eventually end up here, yes, but by then we’d all be gone!Felicia’s call finally came in – I listened to her quietly before hanging up the phone and locking eyes with everyone around the table. It was clear what had to be done; so without saying a word, we all got up, got in the car, and drove away.* * *We parked our car half a block down from the local Islamic center – a small building Fattah frequented and Felicia got word he’d be at that day. We knew her friendship to Fattah’s girlfriend and her disdain for the man was paying off the moment we spotted him coming out of the place – we looked at each other in shock and, after seeing Fattah board his bullet-proof black SUV and drive off with his bodyguards, began to tail them as carefully as we could.Traffic was heavy. We tailed them slowly, inching our way forward until we hit a red light and the vehicle next to the black SUV moved out of the way. We all knew this was the chance we had been looking for all along, so we pulled over by their vehicle and pointed the camera right at him. Fattah turned our way just as my cameraman was getting ready to take the shot.That moment, a split second in real-time, felt like an eternity…For more on “Guerrilla Filmmaking – A True Story”, and the hunt for DIAB FATTAH, come back to storyrocket.com next week.See you then,

Irony is defined as the ability to say one thing while meaning another. It’s a subtle technique that implies the risk of not being immediately grasped by the audience while providing an immensely powerful tool for communication by tapping into the mutual understanding and interpretation of context. Not surprisingly, the use of irony is an exquisitely human trait: despite increasing degrees of contextual awareness that can be embedded in computer code, artificial intelligence has the structural limit of a literal understanding of natural language.

Walking into Diab Fattah’s store would be suicide – not only were we faced with three oversized Arab security agents on the lookout, but we were surrounded by some of Chavez’ goons as well – not far from the street corner we were parked at, were two unmarked vehicles from Venezuela’s DISIP… waiting… their engines idling. The agents inside were straight out of central casting, packing heat and ready to go at a moment’s notice. “We’re gonna have to wait” – I said.I heard the sound of relief in the background almost immediately…“This doesn’t feel right”Getting a nice photo of Fattah proved to be more difficult than anticipated. He was out in the open, yes, but his security detail was tight. I was anxious to get this over with, mostly because I knew the longer we stayed on the island the harder it would be for us to leave without incident. But my anxiety was also my gut’s way of telling me that I needed to be more careful; that my team members’ lives rested on my shoulders and that I needed to take this slowly.I heard thundering in the background and sat back as Fattah’s bodyguards turned around and disappeared inside the store once again. It was an electric storm; I looked up and saw it crawl its way right over us, blowing trashcans over and down the street and spreading spider web-like lightning across the sky. Everything slowed down for me as the sound of rain hitting the windshield calmed me down… I knew Diab Fattah was inside and less than fifty feet away from us; but I also knew there would other opportunities.“We’ll get him somewhere else” – I said trying to sound like I knew what I was doing.“That’s right” – said Anton as he turned around and looked right at me – “I know just the place; we’ll get him tonight”* * *The apart-hotel we stayed at was plagued with Colombian and Brazilian prostitutes who made up more than eighty-five percent of the guests in the joint. The lobby was shabby and it smelled like cheap disinfectant. I turned to Anton who noticing my reaction felt compelled to explain it was the perfect place to hide; that DISIP officers would never come into that hotel. I did not know what to believe, but just as I pondered that, I spotted an unmarked white Ford Econoline van pull over outside the hotel – I kept my eyes on it as the passenger door slid open and a large group of Brazilian transsexuals stormed out of it and tore right through the lobby. I watched them as they stumbled across space and one of them said “hi” to Anton.I turned back to Anton and he simply smiled back – “They’ll never find us here”* * *Located on the second floor of a small building in Porlamar’s business center, was the strip joint Anton claimed Diab Fattah’s girlfriend danced at; the place where he expected we’d come face-to-face with the terrorist. The space was small, well-appointed, and swarming with absolutely beautiful girls. We sat, ordered drinks and tried our best to blend in with the crowd. It worked for a while – the alcohol helped ease the tension while we waited, but it wasn’t long before reality would sink in again. See, letting down your guard could be the difference between success and ending up dead in a Venezuelan alleyway. And I saw it happen… I saw Anton lower his guard and ask one of the dancers about Diab Fattah's girlfriend; it was a rookie mistake and I could feel my stomach tightening as I saw him do it.I sat next to Anton but before I could even warn him, I spotted Fattah’s bodyguards walk into the joint. That’s right – the same three Arabs we spotted back at his shop; they were packing and looking around the club. I saw the dancer Anton was talking to approach them and point directly in our direction. I knew we had only seconds to move into safety so I waved a few hundred dollars in front of the dancer sitting on my lap and cutting through the crowd, had her escort us to the VIP room in the back of the joint. She was excited and probably thought X-mas had arrived early that night; but it did not. We left her begging behind and proceeded to exit through the fire exit in the rear of the building.I watched Anton call Chucho who had been waiting in our SUV in front of the club – he came screeching around the corner to pick us up when I too saw a black SUV follow him into the alleyway. I knew we were in deep shit now and jumping in our vehicle asked everyone to take cover.Shots were fired and bullets started hitting the side of our car. We were not incognito anymore.We were on the run.For more on “Guerrilla Filmmaking – A True Story”, and the hunt for DIAB FATTAH, come back to storyrocket.com next week.See you then,

Faceless dolls interest me. And faceless is the doll we find in Matt Reeve‘s War for the Planet of the Apes(2017) co-written withMark Bomback. That a rag doll without facial features is central to the story is an interesting decision on the filmmakers’ part. In the originalPlanet of the Apes(1968)the doll that is discovered by Dr. Cornelius in the cave near the Forbidden Zone has a face, blonde hair, and speaks:“MA-MA.”Also, in that first film the doll becomes key evidence that humans once spoke. InWarthe doll’s function is quite different.My own doll collection consists of about a dozen DominicanMuñecas Limé.They are hand-painted dolls each with a unique dress and skin tones ranging from chocolate color to pale pink, but none have facial features. In their own way, these dolls celebrate the Caribbean’s multi-ethnicity and leave beauty up to the beholder’s imagination. Also, faceless dolls reflect other new world traditions like those of the Amish who strongly believe in equality and in the Biblical prohibition:“Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.”Moreover, among Native Americans, faceless corn husk dolls reflect thelegendof a beautiful doll that is punished for her vanity by the Great Spirit who tells her that if“she kept thinking that she was better than everyone else a terrible punishment would come upon her.”InWar,Maurice becomes one of Caesar’s traveling companions and it is Maurice who hands a faceless doll to a girl who the group of apes discovers cowering in a bed. When the girl attempts to speak, she cannot. Also, it is Maurice who saves the girl’s life when he refuses to abandon her. Caesar says,“We cannot take her, Maurice.”To which Maurice signs,“I understand, but I cannot leave her.”Maurice is compassionate plus has the powers of reasoning and language. And that would have been enough to consider him human by the18thcentury physician,Julien Offray de la Mettrie(1709-1751) who inMan a Machine(L’Homme Machine, 1748)wrote that apes if taught to speak,“would no longer be a wild man, nor a defective man, but he would be a perfect man, a little gentleman.”Mettriealso asks:“What was man before the invention of words and the knowledge of language?”Other humans and apes might have the power of language inWar, but Maurice is the most humane character and acts as a mother to thedis-abledgirl, even naming her Nova. In the midst of her own transformative journey, Nova manages to communicate with Maurice to ask him about her new identity:“Me ape?”As the husk doll of Native American tradition, Nova sheds her layers of species-centric vanity. She accepts apes as equals, but do apes accept her? It’s a slow process, fraught with pain, fear, and suspicion, but eventually, Caesar does say:“She is one of us.”Think again of the Dominican faceless dolls, now icons of racial integration, but their production did not start until the 1980s and racial mixing in the Caribbean began over 500 years ago. Unfortunately, concerning issues of race, we are all moving too slowly.Nova’s(d)e-volutionarycharacter becomes as symbolical as a “faceless” doll. Nova is really the only female character in a very male/military-dominated story. And if not face-less, she is name-less and voice-less and has been banished to the margins of the society that still exists. Moreover, she would be summarily exterminated if she were to fall in the hands of the aggressive patriarchal group led by the Colonel who states:“There are times when it is necessary to abandon our humanity to save humanity.”Some have noted thatWardoes not include any scenes where at least two female and named characters are alone on screen and talk about something else other than men. That is, the film does not pass theBechdel Test.And whenDawn of the Planet of the Apes(2014)was released, Dr. Susan Block pointed out the lack of female characters in that film and noted that if there had been anyfemale bonobos among the ape communitythey would“soon set the guys straight on all the gratuitous murder and mayhem that ensues.”In spite of the lack of female characters and the mayhem ofWar for the Planet of the Apes,I found this film to have a feminine side to it. Not only is Maurice mothering to Nova, but the apes as a group are intent on saving their offsprings. Also, Nature appears in all its splendor, at first in the lushness of the forest, then in the snow-covered mountains, and especially in the scene of the tree that blooms with delicate pink flowers in spite of the cold as if to say:“Don’t forget, Nature’s life-giving force is here for you when you are ready.”Also, the natural, calming palette created by DPMichael Seresinevokes Mother Nature’s presence. After all the apes’ journey takes them from the city to nature’s heart symbolized by a valley with a lake. On the contrary, man’s journey has gone totally off nature’s track and does not end well.If you want to go see a film filled with senseless, graphic violence, this is not the one for you. But if you like sci-fi that thoughtfully explores our fears of losing our centrality on the stage of our planet and delves into key issues of humanity, thenWar for the Planet of the Apesis for you.