04.30.08
All the latest news
Although we put out a monthly newsletter, not everyone is on our mailing list and so not everyone stays in the loop. And let’s face it, this home page doesn’t change that often. So, we’ll be taking some excerpts from the newsletter (which you can find under the “Newsletters” tab above) and try to keep the home page more current. It may not have as many photos, but, hey, you can’t have it all.
Why aren’t we filming yet?
For those of you who are wondering and checking in for updates, we are not following the production schedule we had initially set for ourselves. If we were, we would have set up a production office already and we’d be starting to film right about now. We’re behind. We don’t yet have an office. We haven’t begun the bulk of the casting process. We haven’t yet reached our budgetary goals. We are on hold until we do. However, we’re still hoping for a summer start date and that remains very possible.
Words of encouragement.
Helen Hunt has written and directed her first feature film. It has nothing to do with Remember Minnesota. But I mention it because I like Helen Hunt and I’ve been reading the considerable amount of press she’s been doing to promote the movie, Then She Found Me. The first interview I read was in the New York Times on April 13th.
“Describe your first day as a feature film director,” the interviewer said. “Wait,” Hunt responded. “You’re skipping the years of humiliation and hazing that I went through to try to get it made. Which I think were, by any standards, truly punishing.”
As I read the article, I found myself thinking, if Helen Hunt can’t get a movie made, who am I kidding? Then I got to this part.
“I was particularly defeated, so I asked someone, ‘Whose movies do get made?’ He said, ‘It’s the people who don’t give up.’”
It was a nice reminder during a month when very little happened to move us closer to production. We have not completed financing for our film. We are, however, steadfast.
We think. Therefore, we rewrite.
I wish there was a log somewhere of how many rewrites a script goes through before it makes it to film. It’s nearly impossible to tally since it’s hard to differentiate between a “tweak” (making minor changes here and there) and something more substantial that might be called a “rewrite.” In fact, I don’t even know how many rewrites Remember Minnesota has gone through at this point. It’s probably about six of them. And we just finished another. Here are John and Tess’s comments about this latest pass…
From John:
Throughout the process of writing this film, Tess and I have found each other to be challenging and engaging collaborators. We approached this rewrite with a new-found energy to bring the story to a more deeply personal place.
Even more challenging was the physical distance between us. With me in Boston and New York as I continue work on Ashecliffe, the new Martin Scorcese movie, and Tess in Los Angeles and Hawaii, getting “personal” via telephone was giving to each other in a new way.
As we combed the script for opportunities to hone the story, heightening the losses and sharpening the conflicts, we were energized again, not to just finish this rewrite but to get this film made.
The journey of any athletic season is a story of wins, losses, lulls, bursts. The making of this movie is directly mirroring the spirit of the the story upon which it is based. So I believe it bodes well.
As I experience working with a master, Mr. Scorcese, I am struck by his commitment to not only every scene, but every shot. Nothing is extraneous. So too, shall it be for our film. Even now, everything is happening for a reason. Each thing is unfolding as it should. We just need the faith to see it through.
From Tess:
I continue to be amazed by John Lynch. Entering into a partnership of any kind is risky and we jumped into writing together without ever having a conversation about how we might work or how we would solve disagreements or who would be responsible for what. What we found, however, was a natural and seamless integration that is certainly rooted in mutual respect and admiration.
Early on, even before the first draft was finished, John would refer to the project as my script. I’m not sure why he wasn’t embracing ownership but I suspected he felt he wasn’t contributing half. I was at home after our work sessions, research-junkie that I am, combing through every book and article on rowing I could find. I was making structural notes and defining character conflicts. I was breaking it all down and moving around puzzle pieces. To my great delight and envy, John does all that stuff in his head. It might have seemed like I was doing more work. I never felt that way.
John’s experience as an actor makes his sense about human dynamics and character development downright intuitive. If we’d come to a character or a moment or a word that we’d disagree on, the great debate would ensue until one of us eventually won. When we had finished the first draft and we were standing in John’s kitchen feeling the pride of completion, John said, “We did this whole thing and we only had two difficult moments between us.”
Then it was the rewriting, which is a lot more debate and a lot fewer words making it to the page. Although it seems less fruitful or productive, rewriting is when ingredients begin to combine and gel. Layers are born. And every word is wrestled with. In this most recent rewrite, we added ten pages to the script. If it were a novel, we’d call it a day but ten pages means ten minutes which means the budget goes up and the running time of the film becomes problematic. And so we also had to cut ten pages. However, because there weren’t any whole scenes that we felt we could eliminate, those ten pages had to come line by line and word by word. And this is where John runs circles around me. I’m often reading through the script on automatic pilot thinking, yeah, it’s good, it’s all good. But John is questioning, examining, rearranging, honing and sharpening. In many ways, John rewrote this script. He had all the epiphanies and by far the better ideas.
I think that John notices the mastery of Scorsese’s commitment to every moment because it mirrors what’s already inherent in John.
The process of putting together this script, and this film, is the perfect blend of people, all of whom have different gifts, and all those gifts vital to the process. Brad Melby’s unwavering commitment and enthusiasm. Susan Austin’s fearlessness, dedication, and endless resources. John Stout’s Rolodex and vault of both wisdom and patience.
Yeah, it’s good, it’s all good.
