CLICK HERE TO FOLLOW THE ENTIRE PANEL DISCUSSION ON “MANAGING EXPECTATIONS ON THE FESTIVAL CIRCUIT”.

Now that I’ve listed all the ways film festivals let us down as filmmakers, I think it is time to turn this around. Let’s talk about how we filmmakers let down film festivals.

1: WE ARE FLAKES
Let’s face it, the overwhelming majority of filmmakers are flakes. We show up late. We fill out forms incorrectly. We ship our tapes after the deadline. We dress like jackasses. We complain about petty nonsense.

I always dress in a suit. I always show up at my screenings early. I always participate in a tech rehearsal (because, even if this annoys the tech, my job is to serve the audience. The audience is my boss). I always say please, thank you, sir and ma’m. It’s not a put-on. It’s good manners.

I only complain about the things that matter. I’m not going to tell you which festival served lunch ten minutes late and that the food was cold. That’s unimportant. I care about how the staff behaves, how they screen my movie and how they conduct the professional aspects of their festival. If a hotel forgets to get me towels, I’m privately annoyed but do not consider this worthy of ever mentioning publicly…and certainly not in a blog.

I can’t say the same for other filmmakers. I’ve sat in parties where filmmakers are LOUDLY talking about how the salsa is bland. So what? Yes, they’re serving mashed potatoes in martini glasses. I also believe that was the most bizarre catering choice on the planet earth. But, what’s the point in talking about it loudly and in front of the festival staff?

I strongly believe we filmmakers should dress better. I don’t mean we should put on a fashion show…but, if we want our work to be taken seriously, why do we dress like social misfits? What we wear is a uniform and it sends a signal to the festival staff and the audience. I have two festival suits. A grey Banana Republic suit and a blue Calvin Klein. I wear hip dress shirts without a tie. My belt, watch, socks and shoes all coordinate. And, the message is “You paid to see my movie. I respect you. I didn’t just roll out of bed with sleep still in my eyes. I take this event as seriously as you do.”

Here is the other secret to why it is worth looking like a professional. As a result I’m treated like one. And, festivals are swimming with people who just might invest in a movie. I want that potential investor to take me seriously. Dressing well is the first step.

And, I’m not the only one who believes this. Every movie star I’ve hung out with at festivals practices the same principal. James Cromwell came to the Santa Fe Film Festival in a fantastic blue pinstripe that said “This is a serious event and I respect that you are here.” Giancarlo Esposito dresses in tweeds with a jaunty hat that says “I’m artistic, but hey, I’ve been in GQ and if you’re going to hand me an award I care enough to show you equal respect by dressing like a professional”.

Showing up in an offensive t-shirt, ripped jeans with bed head simply says you don’t give a damn about them. Why would anyone take a filmaker seriously if that’s what their external uniform communicated to the festival staff and the audience? And, don’t tell me we don’t wear uniforms. That’s all we wear.

I was preppy in junior high. Then, I became a goth for about a year. One day, I wore a name brand shirt as part of my black-and-grey ensemble. I got reamed by my goth friends. “You can’t wear a name brand shirt!” That’s when I realized that everyone is wearing a uniform. For a year I’d rebelled against dressing like society told me to, and it turned out that whatever segment of society I was part of would do the same thing. So, I picked the uniform that best represented who I really was and promptly returned to being preppy.

I think most filmmakers dress like slobs because it is supposed to communicate how serious they are about their art. The message seems to be “I don’t care about silly things like fashion. I care about making movies”. This message fails. All it says is we’re children. I don’t see my clothes when they’re on me…other people do. And, those people extract meaning from what I wear. So, I want them to see me for who I am. I’m a serious entrepreneur. Their money is safe in my hands. I manage their investment wisely. I’m creative, but I’m organized and focused. My uniform speaks this. The film professor from USC who shows up with rainbow hair, torn fishnets and enormous hoop earrings looks like someone who really doesn’t care about being at the festival. And, snapping gum during a Q&A only emphasizes the audience’s snap judgement.

Let me add one more note to this. Would you dress casually for the Oscars? No, you’d arrive in formal wear. Guess what…this festival is the Oscars to the local patrons. For some, this is the most important event of the year. At Sedona a large number of the patrons would step out of a limousine in formal wear. This is their night. This is special. And, we show up like fratboys at a keggar. That, my friends, is called acting like a flake.

Now, if we showed up in a tuxedo or gown that would probably be too much. It would look both naive and clownish for a filmmaker to do that. But, can’t we wear a suit for once in our lives? As Matthew Perry so wisely said on Aaron Sorkin’s Studio 60 “Dressing like little boys isn’t cool anymore.”

2: WE ARE SELFISH
For my first two festivals I thought it was all about me. Boy, was I an ass. Now, I understand that it is all about the audience. Festivals are adding more and more parties. Many are billed as an opportunity to meet a filmmaker. Despite this, the patrons aren’t there to hear about your movie for an hour. I talk about my movie for 30 seconds to a minute. That’s probably too long…I’m still learning how to tame my inner narcissist. Once I’m finished talking about my movie I ask the person why they’re here. If they’re a filmmaker, I talk about their film. And, despite the paradox, I want to talk about their film more than mine. If they’re a volunteer or staff member I want to talk about attendance. If they’re a patron I want to talk about their favorite screenings. Sometimes, I get on a rant about how we independent filmmakers are about to enter the golden age of independent cinema, but that’s after a few glasses of champagne and only with fellow filmmakers who have expressed an interest in making a big movie.

We also steal. I mean that. We are thieves. If you’ve ever taken more than one gift bag, if you’ve put food from a party in your purse, if you stumble into a party with an open bar and start guzzling drinks left and right…you’re exploiting the festival’s generosity.

Now, we all know many festivals don’t respect us. But, that’s no excuse for us to show up and hoover drinks as some passive-aggressive “they owe me” revenge tactic. I’ve seen this and it’s embarrassing. The point of a party with an open bar is to have about one drink an hour. It sure as hell isn’t to get drunk. And it isn’t to walk out of the restaurant with puffy pockets. Perhaps you are on a budget. I respect that. Everyone knows you’re a poor filmmaker. But, I’ve seen people gorge on the free food. Slow down and show the festival that you realize catering isn’t cheap.

The gift bags is a big issue for me. At my first festival I grabbed two extra bags and am now deeply ashamed of it. I don’t need extra bags. The bag is a thank you gift. Yes, the festival orders extras. Yes, they’ll give leftover bags to friends and family afterwards. Yes, most of what is in a gift bag is donated. That doesn’t entitle me to more than one. When I walk into a fellow filmmaker’s hotel room and see a bunch of giftbags I lose respect for that person. And, no one is sly enough to not be noticed by the film festival staff. They see how we behave and the naked greed we display causes festival employees to bristle. Just as we’ve become jaded about festivals, they’ve become jaded about filmmakers.

On top of being greedy it’s tacky. It’s like the people who stay in a hotel and strip the room down to the walls. Do you really need tiny soaps and mini-shampoos? What’s the deal with a free bathrobe? It’s just a bathrobe. And, that TV remote isn’t going to turn on your TV…so leave it alone. That’s what filmmakers are often like at festival parties. We’re locusts that consume everything we touch. Imagine being a festival director and observing filmmakers behaving this way. If you were a festival director and this is how filmmakers behaved at your festival, you’d quickly become jaded as well. The allure of hanging out with artistes would wear off. And you’d say to yourself “Man, I thought it was going to be different than this”.

3: WE ARE UNPREPARED
We show up late. We don’t have promotional materials. We don’t know where are screening is. We don’t know where to get our badge. We don’t know where to park. We stumble & stutter through our Q&A. We have no business cards.

It’s as if most filmmakers consider themselves the audience. They show up and attend the festival. My fellow filmmakers, please understand this…we’re staff. A good festival treats us well, but we still have a job to do.

If you’ve never been to a festival you can still research everything I listed above before you go. You don’t need experience to know how to google the film’s website, print out mapquest directions, jot an itinerary and get 100 business cards printed (at some place other than Vista Prints, please).

4: WE DO NOT SUPPORT OUR OWN FILMS
The overwhelming majority of filmmakers do nothing more than print some posters and postcards. That ain’t gonna cut it, folks. We need to do more. Much more. And, if you’re a filmmaker with a reputation of doing more festivals will program you more. They know you’ll fill a theatre.

5: WE PICK THE BEST SEATS IN THE HOUSE

I’ve seen my movie. I don’t need the best seats. I need to be in the back near an aisle. I’m getting to the point where I don’t enjoy watching my movie in a theatre anymore. I’d rather pace uncomfortably in the lobby and duck back into the theatre during the closing credits, ready to conduct my Q&A.

If you are attending your first film festival then you probably won’t be able to help yourself. You’ll want to sit smack dab in the middle of the theatre. If you can’t help yourself, do this…but, please, do this once and never again. I said it earlier and I really mean this…the audience is our boss. If I’m taking an investor or family member to a film festival, that’s different…yes, I’ll chose good seats. They’re part of the audience and I owe them greatly for letting me chose this bizarre profession. But, if I’m at a festival by myself or I’m attending my second screening at a festival, the seats are for paying ticket holders. I’d be happy with a folding chair in the back (if the Fire Martial would allow it).

6: WE DON’T HAVE MANNERS
Have you sent a thank you card to the festival director for screening your film? Have you offered to buy your tech a drink? If someone introduced your movie, did you thank them personally for doing so? The two words I see most filmmakers desperately need to learn are…

…Thank you.

That’s it. If you did nothing else but say thank you to everyone at the festival you’d make an enormous impression. A handwritten thank you note goes MILES. I know one filmmaker who sends home made brownies. I’m trying to find the time and energy. I certainly see that his gratitude has made an impression.

FINAL THOUGHTS:
When I go to a festival it is work, not play. Even if I’m at a party I’m working. I’m having fun while I do it…but, I throw impromptu poker tournaments (which is always a good ice breaker. I got to know the Colorado film commissioner that way) and I’m trading business cards left and right. I leave a festival exhausted.

Having done all that, I think I’ve earned the right to have high expectations of the festivals I attend. I consider them a partner in building audience interest in my movie. I want them to do their share. Treat me nicely, look me in the eye, don’t rush me out the door, respect that I care about the quality of my screening, understand that my #1 concern is my film plays well before an audience. In exchange, I dress well, speak politely, show up early, charm your patrons and I won’t hoover your food and drinks. We can’t expect respect unless we give it.

CLICK HERE TO FOLLOW THE ENTIRE PANEL DISCUSSION ON “MANAGING EXPECTATIONS ON THE FESTIVAL CIRCUIT”.

JUSTIN EVANS began his first theatre company at 14 and began making films at 15. He is the only undergraduate in NYU’s history to complete a feature film while in school. Justin is the founder, former CEO & Creative Director of Mystic Arts in Beijing. He has been a film professor and art director in the video game industry. He recently finished the feature film, A Lonely Place For Dying – the preview screening of which won the Heineken Red Star at The Santa Fe Film Festival. He has been featured twice in Variety, twice in Moviemaker Magazine, and a mini-doc about his film will be airing on IFC throughout January 2009. Justin is a skilled graphic designer, photographer, production designer, screenwriter, cinematographer, director & producer and currently resides in Albuquerque, New Mexico.