8/10

The Beginning of a Very Long Journey.

Back in November, I wrote about the approach of using colored Sharpies to reveal where ideas/arguments from characters in the story were first introduced and when they reached a point of no return. It helped tighten up a script that started off near 160 pages to 110 pages.

Even though I wrapped up my rewrites before things picked up for the holidays, I decided to hold off on submitting for a follow-up evaluation on the Black List till after the new year. Fresh start.

The first evaluation came back

An 8/10.

I actually recorded a quick video for myself the night the first score came in (a few weeks back), but I ended up getting cold feet when it came time to share it. As I’ve mentioned, I’m a little rusty when it comes to putting myself out there. Better late than never.

When you land an 8 on The Black List, you receive a notice that mentions less than 5% of scripts receive that score, along with an offer to receive two free evaluations.

To be honest, I was a bit nervous to use them. I guess the fear was that the first 8 was a fluke, and that the following scores would drag down the overall score. Still, after correcting a few minor typos, I took a deep breath and cashed in two free reads.

I’ll circle back to the results in a moment, but first —

Three Speeds of Making

Of course, landing 8s on a script is no guarantee of the film getting made. Now comes the hard part: the first steps of going from an idea on paper to a film in a dark theater.

I’ve spent most of my career moving between two very different speeds:

Okaga Short. Nuts + Bolts. Viceland TV.

• Documentary work, which rewards urgency. You grab the camera because the moment won’t wait. When I shot my series in Detroit, the instinct was always the same: stay close, stay ready, don’t miss it.

• Stop-motion, which is the polar opposite of urgency. Having done stop-motion films for Disney (see 8mm footage below) and a short for Tyler, the Creator, I know that kind of work is a glacial effort. Frame by frame, for months on end. You learn patience because you have no choice.

But this speed, the “outreach” phase of a feature film, is different. A kind of hurry up and wait speed. There’s an urgency of research, of introductions, of preparation, all crashing up against a vague in-the-dark progress.

With stop-motion, you’re still making something every day. You can see the seconds of progress in the playback. With outreach, you send an email and then... you wait. The slowness isn’t “productive” in the same way. You do the work. Hope the story catches with the right person at the right time. Keep moving ahead where you can.

This week, the second evaluation landed.

Another 8.

Two different readers, same score.

The nagging feeling that the first 8 was a fluke has faded, and this particular evaluation contained some of my favorite Black List notes so far.

“The dialogue is incredibly sharp, capturing the nuances of a high-stakes, claustrophobic argument while maintaining a relentless pace. […] The big reveal both cathartic and bittersweet while also driving home the story’s central thesis surrounding artificial intelligence and the humans responsible for it. The ending is surprisingly hopeful and optimistic, offering a brighter future for audiences today.”

There were a few comments about ensuring the main character in the film (a subtle distinction considering the claustrophobic ensemble) stood out more in the middle sections at times. It sparked some ideas, but nothing that should hold me back from taking the story to possible partners. What’s most important is that I have a grounded story that moves like a bat out of hell.

Two-years, if you’re flying

Back in October, I sat in on a Zoom talk by Rebecca Green (It Follows), and she said something that was such a huge weight off to hear:

“At the minimum, you’re gonna spend 18 months to two years raising money on any movie. And that’s fast.”

Two years. And that’s if you’re flying.

The documentary filmmaker in me wants to move fast. To not miss the moment. And worse, I struggle with feelings of falling short if I can’t push ahead on a moment’s notice. Well, I’m better now than I was in my twenties, but still, I feel that pressure.

Right now, I’ve reached out to nine people (a mix of past collaborators and folks whose work I’ve admired for a long time). Nine down, maybe a hundred to go.

I’ve gotten a reply back from a wonderful management company asking to read the script, and beyond that, it’s been quiet. As is expected. For the moment, I have my research. My goal is to find a producing partner in the next three months. I might fail. But I need a deadline closer than “two years” to aim at, so I don’t drift.

By spring, I plan to take a group of people around Detroit on a location scout to various buildings that we could transform for a real-time one-location tech thriller. By summer, I plan to be talking with potential investors about the project, holding table reads, and knowing all-the-while that it may be another 16 months before anyone actually commits. Again… if I’m flying.

In the meantime, I have the short film, It Means the World to Me to shoot soon. It’s the thing I can move on right now, and since it ties into the past short and the future feature film, it helps create a body of work that all supports the end goal.