(To the right, independent filmmaker Morgan Jon Fox talks about challenges to directors at a recent gathering of film lovers in Memphis)
OXFORD, Miss. – The scene might have come out of a Nicholas
Ray movie. The famous Hollywood director, his best work, “Rebel Without A Cause”,
“In A Lonely Place”, “Johnny Guitar”, years behind him, sits alone in his
Madrid bar at midnight, a half-empty bottle in front of him, eyeing the half
that’s left.
Maybe he’s thinking of that conversation with the great,
low-budget filmmaker Luis Buñuel a couple years back. “You’re the
only (director) who does what he wants,” Ray told him. “What is your secret?”
“I ask for less than fifty thousand dollars per film,” Buñuel
responded, suggesting Ray try the same. “You’re a famous director. Why not try
an experiment? … See for yourself how much freer you are.”
Nicholas Ray’s “glorious failure” to break free of
Hollywood’s chains of gold and become “the avant-garde, independent moviemaker”
he always wanted to be—eloquently described in Patrick McGilligan’s 2011
biography—provides a glimpse into Hollywood today, where the typical movie
costs from $20 million to $80 million to make, while high-end pictures reach
$300 million or more.
No wonder studios and directors are looking beyond Hollywood
to places like Mississippi and Louisiana to make movies. And even more important
than in Nicholas Ray’s day is the role of independent filmmakers in preserving
movies as an art form, not simply an industry H.L. Mencken once blasted as “too
rich to have any room for genuine artists (and) too much under the heel of the
… gorillas who own them.”
Folks in Jackson, Miss., got a chance to enjoy the art of independent
filmmaking March 31-April 3 at the Crossroads Film Festival. It’s one of at
least 15 film festivals that take place in the state throughout the year.
I got my own chance in February here at the Oxford Film
Festival, where I feasted on narrative shorts like “Three Fingers”, the account
of a female war veteran dealing with post-traumatic stress syndrome, and
full-length pictures like “Texas Heart”, the cast of which included Mississippi
actors Johnny McPhail, Susan McPhail, and Clarksdale, Miss., Mayor Bill Luckett.
This coming November, the “Indie Memphis” film festival in
Memphis, Tenn., kicks into gear. John Beifuss of the Memphis Commercial Appeal calls it “arguably the
region’s top film festival.”
Like neighboring Louisiana, Mississippi is increasingly a
place where films are made and talent is sought. From the feature film
“Gentleman from Mississippi” in 1914 to 1950s classics “Baby Doll”, “Raintree County”,
and “This Property is Condemned” to more recent films such as “Ghosts of
Mississippi” and “Black Snake Moan”, the state has always had a cinematic lure.
Actor, producer, writer and director Johnny Remo, whose 2016
movie “Saved by Grace” was filmed in Canton, said filming in Mississippi beats
filming in California. “I cannot say enough how amazing the people were. Everybody
waves. … In California once, we were filming and the guy next door started
mowing his lawn. It took $500 to get him to stop.”
(From left to right, director Johnny Remo and Ward Emling and Nina Parikh, both of the Mississippi Film Office)
Ward Emling of the Mississippi Film Office agreed. “The
communities of Mississippi are unbelievable. They make my job easy. A movie
anywhere in Mississippi is going to be well-liked, treated fairly.”
Mississippi and its local communities benefit when the cameras
roll here, whether they’re big studio Hollywood cameras or those of independent
filmmakers.
“Forty nine cents on a dollar is what the state spends on
film,” Luckett said during a panel discussion in Oxford on “Producing Films in
Mississippi”. “We’re the best in the country as to what that dollar spent
brings back.”
Emling said the 2001 hit film “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”
was filmed in 11 counties in central Mississippi. “We’re competing on
locations” as well as with other incentives to filmmakers, he said.
At a recent “Shoot & Splice” event at the Crosstown Arts
Center in Memphis, independent filmmaker Morgan Jon Fox talked about the
challenge to the director in making a film that does indeed qualify as art.
It’s important, he said, to be “a student of life. You need to understand
what’s important and a priority. … We need to see humanity on the screen
conveying honesty.”
The reason is “people can detect dishonesty like this,” the
Memphis-based director said with a snap of his fingers. “What is the emotional
spine? A drive that is not easily changed?”
Craig Brewer, a Memphis native and noted director of
successful films such as “Hustle & Flow” and “Black Snake Moan”, was in the
audience and added that the director should ask of characters, “Where are they
in their lives?”
(To the right, "Hustle & Flow" director Craig Brewer in Memphis)
Later in an interview, Brewer told me that big budget films
can be art just like smaller budget films. “What’s important (is) to have a
solid point of view.”
During a trip to Hollywood some years back, I made a stop at
one of my favorite restaurants, the Musso & Frank Grill, which has been
serving dishes like corned beef and cabbage, homemade chicken pot pie, and
potato pancakes to its movie star clientele since 1919. My waiter pointed out
the table where Mississippi writer William Faulkner liked to dine.
Tales of Faulkner in Hollywood are some of that city’s best.
He left Yoknapatawpha to make some money in Tinsel Town in the 1940s, and he
had some notable successes. The hard-boiled novelist and screenwriter A.I.
Bezzerides tells of rooming with Faulkner, his heavy-duty drinking, his
impenetrable silences, Hollywood’s cavalier attitude toward the great author.
Movie mogul Jack Warner once “boasted that he had the best
writer in the world for `peanuts’,” Bezzerides recalled. Faulkner “had contempt”
for movie work, and when Bezzerides once pressed him to get busier on a
screenplay, responded, “`Shucks, Buzz, it ain’t nuthin’ but a movin’ picture.’”
The old man might have a better attitude if he were alive
today. I can see him now at Rowan Oak, his home in Oxford, banging away at his script, having a
helluva time, and making some real art in the process.