“Guerrilla Filmmaking – a True Story” Part I

Sometimes writing isn’t enough; I know, been there. Sometimes you have no other option than to grab the proverbial bull by the horns and do it all yourself – take your idea, run with it, and shoot it… you know, “Guerrilla Style”.

 

I know, this may not be what you think you’ve signed up for; but trust me when I tell you, it kind of is. Some ideas present themselves when you least expect it and you just have to be ready to make decisions on the spot. It happened to me and I learned this the hard way – I became the Forrest Gump of journalism overnight and had the most terrifying and yet interesting time of my life.

 

It all started a few years back…

 

Margarita Island, Venezuela

February, 2003

 

The moment I opened the local newspaper and read about the high-speed chase from the night before was the moment I realized we were in big trouble – the article, not only erroneously identified us as four CIA Agents who had entered the country to destabilize Hugo Chavez’ government, but it failed to mention that we had been chased out of a strip bar by four armed Arabs who later proceeded to shoot at us during a high speed car chase through the dark streets of Pampatar – a middle-class neighborhood on the island of Margarita. The newspaper article claimed they were DISIP (political Police) acting on a tip. Somebody was hiding something; but that didn’t matter. We were now wanted men – yes, ludicrous but there it was… printed on the local newspaper so it was real.

 

I know what you’re thinking, but there’s a reason why we were on Margarita Island, casing a strip joint and being chased by some very big men – it wasn’t an accident, a vacation gone wrong or a CIA sanctioned mission; it was us trying to make a difference… we were going to rock the world with a profoundly revelatory documentary about terrorism and that old South American country, and U.S. ally, called Venezuela. But they made us, so here we were. On the run.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, if all else fails, shoot it yourself”

 

It all started in December of 2002; September 11 was on everyone’s minds, I was having trouble with my latest script and, with Christmas just around the corner, my wife and I decided that spending our break in New York City felt like too depressing a proposition; so we bought plane tickets on a whim and took our kids to Caracas, Venezuela, to visit my parents. I don’t remember what my expectations about going back home were like at the time, but the country we landed on was nothing like the place I’d grown up in – the nation was on fire: hundreds 

 

of thousands of people across every major city in the country were taking to the streets to demonstrate against then president, Hugo Chavez; and they weren’t alone – they were joined by PDVSA, Venezuela’s oil company and SIDOR, the country’s steel company in what became the country’s first organized labor strike in history.

 

The entire nation was attempting to strangle the government hoping for Chavez to quit; but he wasn’t giving in. Tensions ran high and demonstrations were getting increasingly violent. The country was at the brink of a socio-political meltdown, the president didn’t care and the world was beginning to notice.

 

I was fascinated and wanted the inside scoop. I wanted to find a way to connect with members of the opposition and convince them to let me into their meetings. I had to witness history in the making; and that I did, thanks to a fairly high profile political contact of mine who walked me into the then abandoned Plaza Altamira Hotel – an empty marble high-rise building now serving as the opposition’s headquarters – and introduced me as a filmmaker interested in getting their message out. I thought the whole filmmaking bit was a terrible idea at first, but he truly deserved an “A” for creativity; the lie allowed him to squeeze me into the opposition’s safe have

 

n and get me to experience what journalists from CNN, NBC, FOX and the like, couldn’t – networks from all nationalities were camped outside eagerly waiting for the news to trickle out, while I was being permitted to walk inside and join in on their discussions. It was insane and probably even unfair, but who cares? I felt like a “60 Minutes” investigative journalist. They were playing ball with me and not them!

 

Of course, I did not see this going anywhere; after all this was just a white little lie to get me visibility to the inner workings of the resistance. But members of the opposition became excited about making a film and wanted me to start shooting right away.

 

“How about putting together a documentary that would show the world what is really happening in Venezuela?” – Asked one of the Generals of the Venezuelan armed forces – “You’re a local. You get this. You live in the States and you have contacts. Help us protect our message… do the right thing”.

 

 

I stared blankly into his eyes and just nodded – I know, what the hell was I thinking? I had no equipment or team or plans to shoot anything. But here I was and a decision needed to be made.

 

Please join me next week for the second installment of “Guerrilla Filmmaking”

 

Have a great week,