Everyday Goddess

"Zero Sight: Bad Call" Hits the Web

One of the best things about "Zero Sight: Bad Call" hitting the web this week was unexpected. So many of my friends and mentors watched it and sent me the most wonderfully thoughtful responses. One thing I love about directing, and why I'm drawn to it, is that it continues to present challenges and opportunities to learn. And you learn throughout the process. I've no doubt that "Zero Sight: Bad Call" will have things to teach me even a year from now, and I'm so grateful to have so many wonderful people in my life who took time out to watch the short and give me real feedback. (Keep it coming!)

Now, don't get me wrong... I'm also incredibly fond of every single person who simply told me that it rocks! Check it out; what do you think?

Another thing I just adore, is the ability to put content on the web and just immediately share it. The potential for feedback and sharing and interaction is just fantastic. I love that on the web, a project lives just as soon as you upload it.

The flip side of that is the need for marketing and my fixation this week on the number of views and likes. And the fact that they matter. The fact that the first day, the first week, matters. There's this push-pull energy between viewers, who watch when they can, and creators, where you need people to watch right away. It feels like some sort of cruel irony, the way I watch and interact with content vs. the sudden need for people to watch, like, and with any luck SHARE, the film short I directed. It's kinda crazy. It's certainly crazy-making.

I've a fair bit of experience in Internet marketing and social media, of course, but for the blog it's always been different. I do what feels organic and fun, and then that's just it. I blog for myself first, and it's always been that way. Yes, it being public is a big part of the energy of blogging, but it being popular has never been my personal goal. Clearly.

There were a couple years there, as blogs just began to become mainstream, that people would seek me out and ask me how I got readers, how my blog reached the level it was at then, and honestly, the only answer I have is that I was blogging organically and honestly in 2005. The community was much smaller, some cool people linked to me, and I made some awesome blog friends. Then the Internet changed, my readership has naturally gone down, and I'm just still doing what I do, less the types of posts that now live on Facebook instead.

As I write this, "Zero Sight: Bad Call" is at a little over 1500 views, which to me seems pretty awesome, particularly for a video with an adult content warning at the head and nobody famous or singing or being broadly humorous in it. Also, no cats. So I'm pretty happy about that number, and to be honest, I'm pretty amused by the adult content warning, too. (Even if the reality is pretty mild.)

But the hard thing is that I love it, and I love everyone who worked on it, and I want MORE and MORE people to see it and love it, too! And so I rack my brain for ways to make that happen, ways to rise above the ocean of content. You send messages and emails and press releases and tweets and shares, and you just hope it gets out there. That people like it and that people share it. (SUPER thanks to everyone who's watched, liked, commented and/or shared - YOU ROCK!)

I know I'm not the first one to dive into this, and I guess what I would most want to share is that I think that if you send something out and no one responds and picks it up for a post on a website or something cool like that, you have this tendency to think, Oh well, maybe it wasn't that good then. Maybe next time.

But I've worked in PR, and I know that's not necessarily true. You can create something amazing, and it can simply not make the leap because of the timing or the right person was too busy when they got your message, or any number of things. We're all in a big ocean these days, and you need like a flying fish to leap up and help you glisten in the sun where everyone can see, but sometimes you just get stuck in the waves with all the other drops of water.

Geez, I can really milk an anology, right?

Anyway, I don't really know how we next get more eyeballs, but I love "Zero Sight: Bad Call." I think it came out pretty damn good, and everyone who worked on it is superawesome. It's hella fun, my friends. Sexy, cute, fast, and hella fun.

If you agree, how about you vote for "Zero Sight: Bad Call" for Short of the Week? THAT would be awesome!!!

And SHARE it, my friends. I promise that mature content warning will protect anyone from getting in trouble with the boss. And it's the weekend now anyway.

Shooting In Your Space

I read an interview once with Ed Burns where he said that he cast himself in The Brothers McMullen because then he always knew that at least one person would show up on shoot days.

Well, I'm not an actress, but what I do have is a fairly large - for a one-bedroom in Los Angeles - apartment. And so we shot a lot of my Stage 5 TV Continuum film short, "Zero Sight: Bad Call," in my space. The entire first, fat day of shooting of a two-day shoot, to be specific.

Now, I have an odd hobby in life of going through my things and getting rid of stuff. It's an ongoing, process, and I have a lot less things than I used to. But going into a film shoot, even more had to go. I spent a lot of time moving things like my rocking chair and my bike to my friend's basement, taking things to the thrift store, and reorganizing.

I moved my china cabinet into the bedroom, a freestanding pantry to the porch, and my old TV to the bathroom. I painted my kitchen over Christmas, put all my movie posters under my bed and stuffed my closets to the brim. By the night before the shoot, the only thing in my apartment that I hadn't personally moved was an armoir in a corner of my bedroom. Space was at a premium, and the best place for the sandbags, was the hallway. The HALLWAY where people walk was the best place for the sandbags.

We put most of grip and electric on the porch, but I was concerned about load-bearing so I insisted, no sandbags there. The weight of those suckers adds up fast.

As production design and equipment were moved in, my producer Paige Barnett and I became really concerned about space and number of bodies. So much so that when a friend who had volunteered to be on-set photographer had to cancel, I called Paige and said, "Good news, the set photographer cancelled!" A little tongue in cheek, to be sure, but with a solid tinge of truth. (And BIG thanks to Paige for taking tons of pics during the shoot!)

I wish I'd have somehow hired a script supervisor; I regretted the decision not to in editing, but I honestly don't know how we would have fit another person without all of us going mad. Here's a shot of Jon Gentry (Cam) and VyVy Nguyen (Veronica) chilling out in the bathroom. VyVy's sitting on my TV:

Hey, that's wardrobe in the background, hanging in the shower! Here's what's behind wardrobe:

My bedroom was hair and makeup, DIT, AND the green room. Craft services went in the kitchen, and had to be moved whenever it was in the shot. The space was full up, and to the cast and crew, what can I say, but thank you, thank you, thank you for your good humor about it all. Thank you!

Now, my place was previously apartment white. Here's Paige at the beginning of that project, the weekend before the shoot:

And later, when our friend Ralph Sanchez came to give us a hand - and a painting lesson, it turned out:

We did three coats of the yellow, ultimately, on what is a pretty big room. I have to admit, it was a little panic inducing seeing bright yellow paint go up against blue painter's tape. I suddenly had images of my apartment as a preschool. Big thanks to my production designer, Jessica Mahnke, who picked the colors, because it was my confidence in her that kept me breathing while the yellow went up. Here's a shot from the film where you can see some of her marvelous production design:

The craziest thing we did in the apartment was a 180 degree dolly move that required full-size curved dolly track and a doorway dolly. Originally, we'd thought we'd be able to use a smaller rig, but the nature of the move and the size of the RED camera meant we needed to upgrade. Which meant that we needed to fit even more into my apartment. Looking at the track the night before my shoot, I thought to myself, Ah, the fine line between brave and stupid... There it is:

And, setting up for action: 

Ultimately, working around my full-time day job, it took about a month to prep the apartment for the shoot, and over a month to recover. It was kind of amazing, and totally worth it. When I came home at the end of day two, I dropped my bags and took this shot:

The sad thing about this pic is that I had to give that TV back. Now *that* took all my personal strength.

So now, my apartment is pretty much all back together. Funny thing, getting ready for a little get-together about a month and half after the shoot I actually thought to myself, What happened to my carpet? And then I laughed out loud. Um, I think it was the film crew.

Renting a carpet cleaner is on the To Do list.

"Zero Sight: Bad Call" premieres Tuesday May 14th on The Continuum on Stage 5 TV.

Be

On May 1st I did something I've never done before. I changed my New Year's Resolution to something completely different.

Those playing along at home may remember that my New Year's Resolution was to Break Some Rules and Kick Some Ass. This was really fitting while I was working on my upcoming film short, Zero Sight: Bad Call. (Premiering May 14th on Stage 5 TV's YouTube show, The Continuum!) I did indeed break some rules, and I did my damndest to kick some ass.

But as I transition forward from that project, other ongoing personal work has risen to the surface, eclipsing the need for rule-breaking and the sort of ass-kicking that goes along with it. And so, on May Day I resolved to

Be

Be Friendly

Be Patient

Be Open

Be Loving

Be True

Be Jovial

Be Confident

Be Complimentary

Be Giving

Believe

That's a lot of words, but they encapsulate for me a feeling that I hold in my heart and try to live every day, in every situation, with every person. Some days are easier than others. Some personal situations are easier than others. Some days it feels damn near impossible.

And that's why Be is my new resolution for 2013.

 

Feel vs. Look (Feel Wins)

Have you seen this new video from Dove? I kinda hate it:

For a while, I couldn't quite put my finger on why. It's rather treacly and contrived, which I find unpleasant, but just this morning I realized that what really pokes at me is that as I watch this video, particularly towards the end, it's just a whole lot of emotion and energy about looks. How a women thinks she looks. How other people think she looks. Women. Looks. Looks. Women. It's too much.

I care about how I look, but I care a whole hell of a lot more about how I feel. How my body works and how it feels while it's working. How it feels to me and how it feels to others.

I'm really focused on losing weight right now and getting more physically fit. A strong 25% of that is that I want to fit in my clothes and my bathing suit and look good. But 75% of that is that how my body feels right now is uncomfortable. I don't like how it feels when my little beer belly hangs over my underwear. I don't like that my pants are tight. (And I hate shopping for pants!) I don't like grocery bags and laundry feeling heavy. I love how tight abs feel. I love how strength feels. I love how it feels to be able to do all the things I want to.

Similarly, I worry how others perceive my gray hair, and the effects of that on my life, but the winning factor is that most days my hair feels fabulous to the touch. It's strong and healthy. I don't worry about it making me feel old because I'm 41 years old and this is the hair that grows out of my head. So in objective reality, it can only make me look exactly 41. It's 41-year-old hair.

Oh, is 41 "old"? Well, I'll let you know when it feels like it.

Now, one of my favorite physical attributes is my breasts. They don't look remotely like the women you see in magazines, but I gotta tell ya, they feel fantastic. So I don't really spend any mental energy at all worrying about what they're supposed to look like, and for the record, they can each hold a pencil. While feeling fantastic.

I don't buy clothes that look good but aren't comfortable.

I don't eat healthy food that isn't delicious.

I don't make decisions that don't feel right in my gut.

Since I started this post hating on a Dove video, I'll give you one more example. I never used shower gel before I did a paid post for Dove Body Wash. Now, my shower always hosts a bottle (yes, of Dove). Why? Because now my skin feels soft all the time. The other day I got a pedicure (yes, because I like my toes to look pretty), and I saw the woman feel my feet and choose the softer side of the sander. That's what it's about for me. Feel is always going to trump look.

Have you seen the Men's Parody video of the Dove Sketch Video? 

Honestly, the two videos together just kinda make me feel sad. It made me wonder if men did the second sketch in the women's video, how would that turn out? And then, I gotta let that go because again, it's just too much focus on looks. I honestly believe that ultimately attraction is substantially about feeling for most people. How do you feel when you're around the person? How do they feel to you? In your gut and in your arms.

At the end of the day, most of us care to varying degrees about what we look like. There's nothing wrong with wanting to look our best. I want to look my best.

But how we define that, and how we let society define that for us, is ultimately up to us.

Me, I'm gonna just keep doing what feels good.

"Award-Winning" - It Only Takes One

It's a common saying in the industry: Instead of going to film school, you should spend that money making a film.

It's always bemused me, this notion. Because so many people in the entertainment industry have money and come from some level of money and opportunity, and I tend to think that this thought process, especially ten-ish years ago and before, comes from that worldview. Whenever I would hear someone say this I would think, "Yeah, but the government won't give you money to make a film, but they WILL give you money to go to film school." Plus, if you make a bad film that no one sees - which happens all the time by the way - then what do you have?

I didn't have much money. When I went to Florida State University Film School, I emptied the couple thousand dollars out of my 401K, borrowed the max financial aid, and put every fourth month on credit cards for two years. I landed in Los Angeles with enough money to live for about month (and the rent prepaid for 3).

Beyond that practicality, however, the reason I really value my FSU education, is that in those two years, I did learn more than I could ever have learned making one film. I did almost every job on a film set for at least one day, and I regularly find that my breadth of film production knowledge isn't matched by many, unless they went to FSU. Even as things change, I have a base of understanding about what everyone around me on a film set does, what it feels like, and what their perspective on the production is. In the last ten years, I've even filled that out by working (once) in a role/department I hadn't experienced before.

This knowledge was of specific interest to me in my goal to become a working director. I like understanding a little more intimately what everyone around me is doing. It adds depth to my respect of them and their work.

At my current rate, and thanks to my years of unemployment and forebearance, I will pay off my student loan when I am 65 years old. It was worth it.

FSU paid for the production budget of my senior thesis film short, "Every Little Girl's Dream." They also submitted the film to festivals; they do that work and they pay for the festival submissions. This is a huge blessing when you end film school with barely any money, but it's also a bit of a curse. They picked where the film was submitted, and I relied on them to tell me where it was playing.

Of course, I was broke. It's really important to go to film festivals when your film is playing, and I usually couldn't go. "Every Little Girl's Dream" got into quite a few, and I went to exactly one: The Sarasota Film Festival in Florida. It was fantastic, a great little festival, and I'm still friends with two amazing filmmakers I met there. I HIGHLY recommend it; the community there is wonderful.

And then there was the day I found out by word of mouth that "Every Little Girl's Dream" won silver in the student category at Philafilm 2003. This was a joy and a heartbreak. The major city of it and the timing meant I could have gone, and been there, and I didn't even know. The winning of it meant that the people there liked my film. And that just one award meant that "Every Little Girl's Dream" - and by extension, to some extent, me - became "award-winning." It was a bittersweet blessing and a validation that I clung to in my heart.

Fast forward ten years. Or actually, work really, really, really hard for ten long years in Los Angeles.

The school sends an email: They're cleaning out the trophy cases. Do I want the trophy that "Every Little Girl's Dream" won at Philafilm in 2003? I didn't even know there was a trophy.

To the surprise of no one but them, apparently, everyone contacted wants theirs. So a recent graduate drove them across the bottom of the country, and about a month ago, I drove to a production company in Burbank and picked up a trophy for "Every Little Girl's Dream" dated 2003. It's silver, and it says, "Liz Rizzo, Director."

I felt a little silly. A little humbled, ten years later, to be picking up this trophy which couldn't help but make me consider how far and how not far I've come. Where I'm at today. My level of filmic accomplishment. My continued obscurity. My increasing ability.

So much hard work. Hard times, good times. I don't know that it matters, really; I'm still going and I certainly don't intend to stop. I don't know that this trophy means anything more but that a film I directed ten years ago was liked and admired by some (brilliant!) people I never met. But I felt a little... awed by it. By how much I wanted it. By how much it meant to me. By how it illuminated for me the still here, still working-ness of my life, and who I am. By how much happiness it brought me to hold it for the first time in my hands.

Thank you, PhilaFilm. So much.

Young women at the front desk as I pick up a ten-year-old trophy for short little film from long ago. "Just the one?" she asks.

Just the one. That's all it takes.