Lights, Camera Collaboration

There’s a Sarasota graveyard few people have heard of. But a few local filmmakers did, and today, they’re be lugging their cameras, bodies and hopes there, while praying it doesn’t rain. Austin McKinley got there first. Right now, he’s holding a camera and looking uneasily at the sky.

Is he a cameraman? Or playing a cameraman?

“Both,” he says. “It’s complicated.”

Clouds are roiling overhead, but still no rain. Thanks to GPS, the other filmmakers find their way to this forgotten street and park outside the cemetery. Car doors slam. The eager young filmmakers emerge and get to work.

Is this what the local film revolution looks like?

Maybe. And it’s not just a question of affordable technology.

Today’s high-tech gear makes filmmaking affordable, but putting a digital camcorder in your hands doesn’t mean you can make “The Blair Witch Project.” You need to know what you’re doing. And you can’t do it alone. Forget the auteur theory. It takes an army to make a film.

In this case, a platoon. Or at least a squad.

Right now, about seven people march into the graveyard. Jake Pearlman is the director. He’s dressed in black, with black swept-back hair and a black belt in several martial arts styles. 

Once the film squad blocks out the scenes, they will assemble and start the first scene. Actually, it’s the only scene. They’re working on a single-take movie that’s less than eight minutes long. And that’s the whole point.

The ESSAY Film Collaborative is hosting its 2016 Single-Take Challenge. The magnificent seven in the graveyard, and about eight other ad-hoc film companies, took up that challenge.

The one-take film shorts they’re doing include a Woody Allen-esque breakup story, a robot breakup story, at least one zombie tale and a heist (and a haircut) gone wrong. Pearlman’s pearl is a riff on the Steven Seagal wannabe character he created for his ongoing YouTube series: Tulku Dorje, a.k.a. the “Film Industry Black Belt.”

ONE SHOT

The cinema squad huddles up in the sorry-looking graveyard. Lots of scruffy pine trees and anarchic undergrowth. But somebody’s leaving flowers.

Pearlman gives McKinley a look.

“Yo, Austin. You got the gun?”

McKinley nods and hands him a wicked-looking handgun. Black, of course.

“It’s a toy,” he tells me, before holstering it. “I got it for a buck at the dollar store.”

They look around to see who’s missing.

“Monster,” says screenwriter Joshua Little. “I don’t see the Monster.”

A tall guy steps from behind a pine tree — Brandon Follis

“I’m here,” he says. “Just not in costume.”

Olivia Yagy and Tyler Blair, the two actors not yet mentioned, just laugh.

“We could see him the whole time,” says Yagy.

Pearlman looks up at the boiling sky, looks down and claps his hands.

“OK, I don’t know how much time we’ve got, so let’s do this. We’ll block this thing out and do run-throughs.”

McKinley, Pearlman and Little stride the cemetery, bouncing impressions off each other.

They scope out camera angles, find creepy backgrounds and a big-enough tree for the monster to hide behind and block out the action. It only takes five minutes. The periodic thunder helps speed them along.

With just one take, no detail can be overlooked. 

Over the phone, Pearlman  shared insights into his character and a little more on the plot of the film. Tulku walks the earth righting wrongs, making films and bringing enlightenment to other filmmakers. Mayhem frequently ensues, but Tulku always keeps walking. His latest idea: a commercial app substituting a Tibetan thought monster for the cute anime beasties of Pokémon Go. What could possibly go wrong?

There’s more to it, but I promised the man no spoilers. 

I will say there’s a great martial-art sequence. Kudos to Pearlman for excellent fight choreography.

Today’s outdoor activity is a hybrid of wicked fun and hard work. It happens more often than you’d think.

Today’s film fanatics belong to a fiercely loyal extended family of area screenwriters, directors, actors and other talents. Manasota Films is the place they go to show their films, get a movie-theater experience, hang out and look for ways to cross-collaborate. Their monthly screening has helped unite and inspire area filmmakers in two counties.

“Just a few years ago, we were fragmented and working in isolation,” says McKinley. “Thanks to these screenings, we’ve come together as a real film community. We’ll watch each other’s movies. I’ll see what your strengths are; you’ll see what mine are. When I need your strengths, I’ll ask for your help. When the time comes, you’ll ask for mine.”

Back in the lively graveyard, the plucky cinema squad makes it to the ending I won’t give away. Thunder cracks like a warning shot. Everybody runs back to their cars. Doors slam again.

Like the special effects team in the sky just woke up, it rains.