Seed & Spark – Page 3

Seed & Spark: “Stop Whining; Woman Up”

If all of those intelligent people who believe that would give these animated films a chance, they would see how incredibly powerful some of these films are for adults as well. However it is actually a fantastic thing that ‘Big Hero 6’ appeals to kids, and I think this might be one of the most important movies for kids to grow up watching. ‘Big Hero 6’ is the start of creating a reality where gender inequality doesn’t exist.

This is a guest post by Shantal Freedman.

I recently saw a movie that blew me away: Big Hero 6 (spoilers ahead). I tend to come across people who don’t think it’s possible to deeply enjoy a “cartoon” or think cartoons are only for kids. If all of those intelligent people who believe that would give these animated films a chance, they would see how incredibly powerful some of these films are for adults as well. However it is actually a fantastic thing that Big Hero 6 appeals to kids, and I think this might be one of the most important movies for kids to grow up watching. Big Hero 6 is the start of creating a reality where gender inequality doesn’t exist.

First, it was really nice to see that Hero’s group of friends was equally split between male and female: two girls, two guys. Disney’s flagpole films have been switching off between a male lead and a female lead yearly. This one was a male lead, yet the female characters were very prevalent and strong. There wasn’t a single female who wasn’t a completely awesome character. Any girl can watch this movie and feel as connected as any guy.

One of my favorite characters in the movie is Gogo. She’s one of Hero’s friends and she is a badass scientist, both in the lab and out. She kills it in all of the fight scenes. Actually, all of his friends equally kill it – not one person was stronger or weaker, they were all equally strong in their own way with their own powers. You’ll see many times in movies that the “badass girl” is either butch and stiff (also in her personality) or a sex object. Gogo is neither, she is the badass girl who is also a human.

Hero has a breakdown partway through the film. He is a teenager trying to cope with his brother’s death and he finally loses it. He even left all of his friends on an island, taking their only means of transportation out of there. They make it back and meet Hero in his garage. One of the crucial things a person can do to help a friend who is depressed, is to be a friend. Gogo understands this, walks up to Hero without saying a thing, and hugs him. She can be tough but also feminine and nurturing. This teaches boys and girls that they can be whatever they want. This teaches the next generation that they don’t need to fit in a box or be ridiculed for being who they are. That’s true for every character in this film.

And my favorite line in the film? Gogo: “Stop whining; woman up.” It was casual and said in a non-obvious way. It didn’t phase any of the characters. It was a line that appeared to be “normal.” I really appreciate something like this in a film. It’s not trying to beat people over the head with their message that “woman up” is the same as “man up.” She says “woman up” a second time around the climax of the film during the last fight out with Professor Callaghan. She was literally speeding up a pillar of microbots. Gogo’s looks are also an interesting thing to note.

In fact, the looks for all of the female characters are extremely important to mention. Clearly, each significant female character looks quite good. They are all attractive. Part of me thought, “well, maybe they could have switched up their body-types a bit.” Then the other part of me thought, “I’m so glad they made all of the female characters really attractive!” Why? Because not a single one of them was defined in any way by their looks. There was no comment about how hot someone was, there was no romantic relationships going on in the group which is something we’ve come to expect, and there was no one hitting on Hero’s hot aunt, which Fred’s character would have totally been doing if this was another movie.

One of the most important elements of the entire movie is the world that they created. The world in Big Hero 6 is a world where all women are treated with respect. Gender inequality wasn’t even an issue. Not to get all dark, but we talk so much about rape culture these days and hopefully everyone knows by now that teaching women to dress more modestly is not how to fix this but rather teaching our sons to respect women. This is what Big Hero 6 does. A kid watches Big Hero 6 and gets invested in a world where the women are respected. All of them. It’s so common for writers and directors to characterize a “bad guy” by him disrespecting a woman in some way, whether it be physical abuse, demeaning insults or just having an entourage of women at the tips of his fingers. Imagine if that wasn’t even an option. Imagine what the next generation will be like if they grew up on films like Big Hero 6? I tear up just thinking about the beauty and impact Big Hero 6 can and hopefully will have on our society.

As a director myself, this film really moves me. One of the things I care very deeply about is the portrayal of women in films. I just finished shooting my latest film, Ticketed, where I, too, created a world where gender inequality just doesn’t exist. I truly believe that if we positively promote these morals, instead of beating people over the head and shaming them for their bad habits, change will happen. I think there needs to be more films out there like Big Hero 6, which is why it’s so important for me to get Ticketed out there.

We need to raise the funds to finish the film and complete our post production. We’ve launched a funding campaign on Seed&Spark so anyone who wants to support a non-preachy action-packed comedy with a female lead and mission behind it can do so. You can learn more here: http://www.seedandspark.com/studio/ticketed; www.facebook.com/Ticketed, @TicketedMovie. Email ticketedthemovie@gmail.com.

See also at Bitch Flicks: Big Hero 6: Woman Up

Shantal Freedman is a fema-nazi man-hater who became a director to make a point. Although, she’s not really sure what that point is anymore. Despite all that she is a domestic and international award winning filmmaker whose films have incurred compliments such as “meh” and “the popcorn was good.”

Seed & Spark: What Do Women Want?

Still searching for a way to answer our question of fairness, the young woman of Jumla, sitting wearily before me, looked quizzically at our translator.

Our translator said: “She’s asking what ‘fair’ means.”

This is a guest post by Sophie Dia Pegrum.

A voice. After filming a day in the life of a young woman of Jumla, Nepal, we asked her whether she considered the physical burdens of her life fair in comparison to her young husband. She thought about it for a long time. I sat, exhausted, watching her thoughts pass across her face from my position behind the camera. As the co-director and DP, I had spent what I considered a fairly grueling day arising before dawn, hauling my first world gear several miles up a mountain pass to follow this young woman while she searched for firewood, chopped it, and carried a seemingly impossible load back down the steep mountain path. The morning’s trek was engaged at a rather leisurely pace by her standards due me getting all the shots I wanted while desperately searching for my inner mountain filmmaker goat. This was just the beginning of a long day which also involved her journey across the village to milk a cow, cook meals for her husband’s family, and to hand clay wash the front of their stone house using freezing water. Her husband had been hanging out in the village most of the day and had decided to go to the river to fish in the afternoon.

Families in Jumla will often spend their limited resources educating their sons, for as soon as a young girl is married, she goes to live with the family of her husband, and essentially becomes their scullion. Why use the little assets a family has to educate the daughters who will essentially marry into a life of drudgery?

Still searching for a way to answer our question of fairness, the young woman of Jumla, sitting wearily before me, looked quizzically at our translator.

Our translator said: “She’s asking what ‘fair’ means.”

How do you find another way to ask this question? For us, the educated women of the industrialized nation, who stand on the shoulders of our sisters who have fought for our equality, we cannot un-know this history. We are as puzzled by the idea of not conceiving of equality, as the young woman of Jumla, who knits her eyebrows, trying to comprehend the concept. Moreover, what good will it do her to try to answer this question. For even if her life was unfair, what could she do to change it?

We spent time on and off over the next three years, embedded in the same village, observing many similar stories and capturing the immense spirit and strength of the women in this remote place in the foothills of the Himalaya. In the beginning, some women were too shy to even consider talking to us, but often, many women who had never been asked their opinion, began to express themselves in front of the camera, and we saw a subtle shift.

I had often questioned our presence as two women filmmakers, and the impact we may be having. Certainly, both being about six feet tall, we were often a source of local entertainment as we constantly hit our heads on low ceilings and doors and crammed ourselves into small corners of smokey kitchens to film. Though loaded with irony for my own personal reasons, being lovingly referred to by the locals as the “cameraman,” I enjoyed the moniker that to them, represented professionalism.

Over time, we recorded the myriad voices of women here, especially in their song. Women sang in the fields as they worked together, their strains echoing uphill as they disappeared with their baskets to collect wood. They sang in their kitchens in the evening after the days work was done and they sang together while they pounded corn. They sang for us and asked us to share our songs. My co-director and I tried to figure out if there was another song aside from “Happy Birthday” that we both knew the words to.

Women who had never been asked to air their opinions were sometimes surprised by their own voices. Often uneducated, they hadn’t had the opportunity to create the thought patterns which allowed them to form their own judgements and ideas, or create a view of themselves in the world. One woman told us that she didn’t feel that she could take a free class being offered by a local charity because she didn’t think she was capable of learning.

One of the most poignant memories I have was at the end of an interview we did with a man who was running a tea shop and inn with his wife and children. As I was packing away the camera he came to us and said that he would reconsider the education of his own daughters. He said that watching us operate “technical things” made him appreciate that perhaps his daughters had more potential than he had realized. He now understood and believed that women could do things like that and he wanted his daughters to have this opportunity.

Women will still have to find their voices, but within this complex and embedded societal structure, men will need to stand alongside them too and this requires better education for all and a deep shift in thinking.

Our film, Daughters of the Curved Moon, will be coming out in the next year and I am looking forward to sharing the inspiring story of these communities with a wider audience. I am also finishing up another documentary I shot on the roof of the world called Talking to the Air, which I am crowd-funding at Seed&Spark. My ability to articulate my voice as a filmmaker comes from the determination of so many others before me. In turn, I wish to use this channel to tell authentic stories of humankind that promote a sense of wonder in us all, and to share the voices of those that are still struggling to find their forum. After working in the high Himalaya, I am now also determined to learn some new songs.

Sophie Dia Pegrum is a director and cinematographer who has produced and shot films in the Antarctic, at the North Pole and in the Himalayas including 77 Below and Daughters of the Curved Moon. Sophie co-owns Horsefly Films and the Rare Equine Trust and produces docs about rare horses and fragile horse cultures worldwide. She is currently finishing a film she shot on the Tibetan border titled Talking to the Air: The Horses of the Last Forbidden Kingdom.

Seed & Spark: The Revolution Will Be Streamed: Why Underrepresented Communities Need to Find, Fund, and Forge the Streaming Media Landscape

The statistics are startling, but the silver lining is promising: The conditions that brought women to the forefront in early film now exist in streaming media. Now is the time for marginalized communities to claim their most significant share yet of the media landscape by finding and funding streaming projects and investing in/forming streaming media companies.

This is a guest post by Kathleen Wallace.

Being a woman in and around the entertainment industry can feel like being in an unhealthy relationship: They’re just not that into us.

It wasn’t always this way. According to Dr. Jane Gaines, a film professor at Columbia University and one of the editors of the Women Film Pioneers Project, women in the film industry in America between 1916 and 1923 were more powerful than in any other business. In fact, in 1923, the number of women-owned production companies outnumbered those owned by men.

AliceGuyBlache — Alice Guy Blache, filmmaking pioneer, film studio owner, director of over 1,000 movies including some with interracial casts.

LoisWeber_BehindCamera — Lois Weber, silent film actress, screenwriter, director, producer, bane of censors; founded her own movie studio in 1917.

Fast forward 90 years to 2013, and only 23 percent of producers and a stunningly mere 7 percent of film directors are women (Geena Davis Institute on Gender In Media).

Sobering statistics about women in film.

When the moving image was uncharted territory, roles were less defined, which left greater room for minorities to take on more responsibility and to have more of a voice. According to Dr. Gaines, to meet the “booming demand” for fiction films between 1895 and 1925, “Women were given many, many more chances to direct and produce.”

The better part of a century later, streaming media outlets present an unprecedented demand for content. For example, in 2013, the average time spent on digital surpassed the time spent watching television. Soon mobile viewing will surpass digital viewing. Also unprecedented is the access content creators have to distribution via streaming media. And thanks to the advent of crowd-funding, the financial barrier to filmmaking is lowered and audiences have greater access to filmmakers and therefore greater say in what media is produced. What a time to be both a filmmaker and an audience member!

Digital has overtaken TV and mobile on on track to overtake digital.

History teaches us, though, that this golden time will not last. In the 1920s and 1930s, as the film industry matured and companies figured out how to monetize films, underrepresented communities were squeezed out. Streaming is still, just as film was a century ago, the new frontier of media, but the “Streaming-TV Gold Rush,” as deemed by New York Magazine, is on: HBO announced recently that it will offer a streaming-only service. Lionsgate and Tribeca Enterprises (which runs the Tribeca Film Festival) announced the creation of a subscription VOD service. And it’s been over a year since Jason Kilar, ex-Hulu CEO, and Richard Tom, ex-Hulu CTO, announced the creation of their company, Vessel, a premium streaming platform specifically for short-form video content.

Deep pockets are searching for ways to make money in digital media. And the money is there to be found; earlier this year, digital ad revenues surpassed television ad revenue. The question is, when the big companies do find the money, what will happen to the level of diversity we enjoy in streaming media now?

This is not to say that studio executives are maliciously excluding underrepresented groups. Studio executives just aren’t that into us, so they don’t see as great a need to represent us. As Justin Simien, the director of the movie Dear White People (which incidentally was crowd-funded), said in a recent NPR interview, “It’s taken as given that a white cast represents everyone.” Organizations like the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media are drawing strong attention to the issue, but the statistics on equal representation are still depressing.

With streaming media, we don’t have to see ourselves through someone else’s lens anymore. And if we take the reins of streaming media now while the gold rush is on, we can help ensure that it stays that way.

Here are three steps to take those reins:

First, find streaming content that speaks to you. There is seemingly limitless content on the big platforms like YouTube and Vimeo. There are also smaller companies like Seed&Spark, which cater to independent filmmakers. This company definitely harkens back to the early days of film: Seed&Spark is a female-lead company helps filmmakers fundraise as well as distribute their films, and 58 percent of the projects crowd-funding in their studio have women in prominent positions. (Full disclosure: I am currently crowd-funding my own web series through Seed&Spark. It’s called Settling Up.)

Second, when you find a project you like, support it. Throw money behind it. It doesn’t have to be a lot; truly every bit helps. Then spread the word. A Facebook post or tweet to your followers helps raise the project’s profile. Large numbers of both donors and followers signal to the streaming studios to come – like Vessel – that there is an underrepresented audience out there craving more content tailored to them.

Supporting projects also helps you build a relationship with your favorite streaming filmmakers, which helps ensure their projects’ longevity, since funding for streaming is still largely grassroots-based. “Relationships have made the most successful web series what they are today,” says Amy Kersten, an independent streaming producer whose work centers on women and women’s issues. When you subscribe to a series, when you post about an indie VOD film, when you comment on a video, you are creating dialogue between yourself and the filmmaker which helps ensure content is of the people. (Again, full disclosure, Amy is producing and co-directing my web series.)

Third, make streaming media yourself or get involved in a streaming media company. If this last one is for you – and it may not be – I strongly urge you to go for it. Underserved communities need more representation behind the camera as well as behind the studio desk. My web series, Settling Up, is the first streaming media I’ve created, and I’ve learned tons along the way – made plenty of mistakes, too. But at the end of the day, I’m telling stories that have gone untold for too long, and I’m very proud that our female to male ratio on the crew ranges between 2:2 and 4:1.

It’s media for women, by women. And I’m definitely into that. Long may it last!

__________________________________________

Kathleen Wallace is a NYC-based writer-producer-actor. Her web series, Settling Up, premieres in early 2015. She works with Amios Theater Company and Barefoot Theater Company, teaches fitness and public speaking, and is founder and Chief Cape Advocate of Be A Superhero Day, a day of public service. Kathleen holds degrees from Yale and the National Theater Conservatory and certificates from multiple schools in Germany. This winter she appears as Amanda in Private Lives at the Walnut Street Theater in Philadelphia.

Seed & Spark: ‘Actress’ and the Messiness of the Moving Image

In the film I follow Brandy’s unfolding drama as-it-happened, hanging the film on her trained actor expressions and captivating ability to theatrically display fragility, anger, and force of will. The film is a documentary in the sincerest way; Brandy’s performance is the truth I was observing. ‘Actress’ is about the roles we play and how we get trapped in them; the role the viewer sees Brandy wrestle with most vigorously might be the role of documentary subject.

This is a guest post by Robert Greene and Brandy Burre.

From Director Robert Greene:

How does a man make a movie about a woman who is going through a crisis in her life that he, despite being the same age (with the same ambitions, the same number of children that are the same age in the same town), will never have to deal with because he’s a man? That’s what I’ve tried to do with my new nonfiction film Actress, which stars my neighbor and friend Brandy Burre as she tries to balance motherhood and artistic dreams in the face of a suddenly tumultuous domestic situation. The answer in this case: you wind up the toy and hold on tight.

Brandy got pregnant when she was filming her final appearances on HBO’s legendary show The Wire, in which she played political consultant/vixen Theresa D’Agostino. Her life didn’t immediately settle (at one point she was doing a theater run far away from Tim, the baby’s father), but she eventually moved to Beacon, New York to raise a growing family. I moved next door to her a few weeks after she came to Beacon. Five years later we began filming what would become the movie. Its original title was Mother As Actress.

In the film I follow Brandy’s unfolding drama as-it-happened, hanging the film on her trained actor expressions and captivating ability to theatrically display fragility, anger, and force of will. The film is a documentary in the sincerest way; Brandy’s performance is the truth I was observing. Actress is about the roles we play and how we get trapped in them; the role the viewer sees Brandy wrestle with most vigorously might be the role of documentary subject.

The project started from the formal question, “What happens when you film an actor in an observational documentary?” before the story took us in unexpected places. I also know that women, especially mothers in their later 30s, are harshly under-represented in movies. In general, too, I begin from the point of view that documentaries are inherently exploitative, that a power exchange is created when one person films another, not to mention when a man films a woman. This may be especially true when that man is exploring genres such as melodrama, which have traditionally been called “women’s films.”

The best way to short circuit the potential calamity of this exchange is to foreground the exploitation, to make it part of what the viewer is watching while they follow the story. The way a man can make a documentary about a woman in this situation, then, is to dive deep into the contradictions of the nonfiction form and display the mess onscreen. Documentaries are made of the tension between order and chaos, between directing and living. Letting these tensions show (and allowing space for the viewer to think about these tensions, including questions of gender and exploitation) cedes some of the power of the image to the person in front of the camera.

That person in this case is Brandy, a complex, theatrical, mercurial force of nature. It was not always easy to “cede power” of my film to this magnificent creature, and I wasn’t about to do it just because she was a woman. She was hesitantly stepping forward, too, though I wouldn’t have been able to tell; by the time she said yes I had already become somewhat obsessed with the possibilities of filming her and how my ideas would mingle with what I could never have predicted. What happened, of course, was that Brandy’s force, her power, her fragility, her ability to make every scene crackle was the film I wanted to make. Soon my ideas were dwarfed by this bright star and it was now our film, though it obviously never could have remained just mine.

This film was very hard to make, but ultimately I think we’ve arrived at something productive and meaningful. I think Brandy agrees, but let’s see what she thinks in her own words.

From Subject/Star Brandy Burre:

Indeed being the subject of a documentary, actor or no, is a dicey proposition. When Robert first introduced the idea that he “follow my journey of getting back into acting,” I declined. The problem as I saw it: I’ve never had the desire to trudge into the business of acting as it formally exists. End of story.

The fact that Robert couldn’t, in many ways, understand my views as a woman and mother further distanced me from the idea. The assumption I inferred in Robert’s scheme was that I had lost my way as an actor and was in need of finding it, that my life without acting was lacking in some way and needed to be rectified, as if my career had been on a clear path, I had been derailed by having children, and I simply needed to hop back on the train and resume my efforts where I had left off.

Clearly he didn’t understand my rogue path to landing the role on The Wire. Nor did he understand the extent of my other work as a theater artist and musician. How could he know I had made definitive choices, defying the one size fits all rigmarole allotted to aspiring artists in America (those without lineage or trust funds, that is)? I had no desire to prop up a false perception of a typical actor’s life, or worse, come across as a failure or desperate in some way.

But then there is Robert, a persistent hornet of a person. Taking a different approach with me, he threw down the gauntlet: we just start filming. We turn on the camera and see where it leads, even if that destination is nowhere. We film for the sake of filming, make art for art’s sake, he the filmmaker and I, the muse to his musings. Hmm… Now this got my mind a-churning.

How could I say no to this exercise? What is it to play the role of one’s self? What actions define me as an individual, and what are the boundaries of my existence that I’m forced to question when confronted with a camera lens as witness?

I was sufficiently stung by Robert’s passion and commitment to the potential of this project. If he accepted me with all my contradiction and parody, force and feebleness, without need for outcome, who was I to deny him? From this moment on, Robert found in me his willing cohort, conspirator, and collaborator. And once I commit to a project, I invest my entire soul to it.

I am endlessly proud of Actress and the bravery it took to make this film. The bravery to be as truthful and raw as I knew how to be. Robert met me as a fellow artist without definition of gender, and this was his greatest gift to me and to women in general. The fact that Actress might be considered a “woman’s film” is because my story was truthfully told within the context of itself, not with a male-dominated agenda. And in case it needs clarifying, the context of me is ALL woman.

Actress is currently building an audience and raising funds for music rights on Seed&Spark.com.

Brandy Burre is an American actress best known for her portrayal of Theresa D’Agostino on the HBO Series The Wire. Currently, she is the subject of Actress, the critically acclaimed documentary from Robert Greene. Other recent credits include Alex Ross Perry’s Listen Up Philip and Phil Pinto’s “Diplo Revolution” music video. Also a musician and mother of two, Brandy has performed many great roles on professional stages across the country. She has an MFA in Acting from Ohio University.

Robert Greene is a filmmaker and writer. He was named one of the 10 Filmmakers to Watch in 2014 by The Independent and received the 2014 Vanguard Artist Award from the San Francisco DocFest. Robert’s films include Actress (2014), Fake It So Real (2012) and Kati With An I (2010). He has edited over a dozen films, including Alex Ross Perry’s Listen Up Philip and Amanda Rose Wilder’s Approaching the Elephant. Robert writes for Sight & Sound and other outlets.

Seed & Spark: Fearlessly Pursuing a Film Career at 43

At the age of 40, I returned to school, to Fitchburg State University’s undergraduate film/video production program, to learn the craft of directing films. During my two years at Fitchburg State, I took as many classes as I could, while writing and directing two short films. I also discovered a new passion for screenwriting, which led me to the low-residency MFA program at New Hampshire Institute of Art: Writing for Stage and Screen, where I am currently enrolled.

Left to right: Actor Will Bouvier and Jennifer Potts on the set of Jennifer Potts' short film, Home. — Left to right: Actor Will Bouvier and Jennifer Potts on the set of Jennifer Potts’ short film, *Home*.

This is a guest post by Jennifer Potts.

I am a woman who has never felt the need to conform to the norms of society.

I am my own person doing this life my way and I do not want to ever be the same as anyone else…man or woman. I do not necessarily identify as a feminist, although my husband may proudly tell you that I am a female chauvinist. Sometimes I am, sometimes I’m not. I am myself. And I am a woman. I have strengths and weaknesses. I speak my mind. I am bold and often outspoken. I have secrets. I have fears. I have dreams. I am human and I am going to do this life my way.

At the age of 43, I am launching a career as a screenwriter and film director. In many ways you could say that I am starting over in the middle, but truthfully it is hardly starting over. I graduated from Drew University 23 years ago with a degree in theatre. I put my career on hold to stay home with my four biological children until they started kindergarten. A decision that was, by the way, very unpopular at the time. When my youngest started kindergarten, I looked for opportunities to work in theatre, but the closest professional theatres were over an hour away, and I had small children. I knew that I had to take life by the reigns and build a theatre.

Left to right: Producer, Jessica Killam, and Jennifer Potts on the set of Jennifer Potts' short film, Home. — Left to right: Producer, Jessica Killam, and Jennifer Potts on the set of Jennifer Potts’ short film, *Home*.

I started forming a small theatre company out of a church and, within five years, filed for nonprofit status and was the co-founder of Cornerstone Performing Arts Center in Fitchburg, Mass., with a small professional non-equity theatre. During my time as the artistic director, I produced and directed over a dozen productions, built an arts training program with youth theatre and dance companies, and oversaw the annual season of productions. After 10 years total building this theatre company, I was hungry to grow as an artist.

Jennifer Potts on the set of her short film, Home. — Jennifer Potts on the set of her short film, *Home*.

As I begin to make my own mark on the movie world, I watch a lot of movies. The movies that resonate with me the most always have a story that I just cannot get out of my head like Lars and the Real Girl and What’s Eating Gilbert Grape. I am also a huge fan of Beasts of the Southern Wild and Moonrise Kingdom. For me, it all comes down to a really good story that is executed well. I have been experimenting with my own style as a screenwriter and filmmaker. My first two shorts were completely different: a quirky comedy and a suspenseful drama. I am filming my last short movie, Charlie & Poppy, this November. This is a family/coming of age drama that captures the magical relationship between a grandfather and grandson over the period of 20 years. Writing and directing shorts has given me the opportunity to hone my own style before embarking on my first feature film. The screenplay that I am working on right now will be the first feature film that I direct and it will build on the foundation I created with my shorts. I will truly begin to make my mark on this movie industry once I take this giant leap into the world of feature films. I will introduce my voice to the world, the voice of a woman with more than 40 years of stories ready to be told.

Actress, Michele Egerton, on the set of Jennifer Potts' 1st short film, Free Time. — Actress, Michele Egerton, on the set of Jennifer Potts’ first short film, *Free Time.*

I am aware that the road will be tough as a female filmmaker in a male-dominated industry. But what industry isn’t male-dominated? I have spent years navigating my way through life as a woman. I am independent and strong and, when I get rejected and knocked down, I will get up and fight even harder. I know that, at the end of the day, I am the only person who can get in the way of my career and my goals. I am the only person whose actions I have control over.

Someone recently commented on my ability to pursue my dreams stating that I was fortunate to have a husband to support me. The female chauvinist inside me started screaming and kicking and swearing. I did, by the way, choose to marry my husband. I did also stay home and raise the children that he participated in impregnating me with while he pursued his career. I did support him when he returned to graduate school twice. He is a great man – that is why I married him. He is not, however, the reason I am pursuing my career. I am the reason.

Actor, Will Bouvier, on the set of Jennifer Potts' 2nd short film, Home. — Actor, Will Bouvier, on the set of Jennifer Potts’ second short film, *Home*.

I am the woman who wakes up every morning and fearlessly pursues a career where women are lucky to ever be seen or heard. I am the writer who has the discipline to spend every morning writing the stories that have lived in my head for 43 years. I am the filmmaker who pulls together the logistical and creative aspects of the films I make, while boldly asking people for money to support each film. I am the one and only person who can make my dreams happen and I refuse to let someone else take that power away from me. This is my life and I will live it fearlessly.

Film director and screenwriter, Jennifer Potts, graduated from Drew University in 1992 with a BA in Theatre Arts. After running a theatre for years, at age 41, Jennifer attended Fitchburg State University’s film/video program where she wrote and directed two short films and received 2014 Film Student of the Year. Jennifer is working toward an MFA in Screenwriting at NH Institute of Art. Jennifer lives in Fitchburg, Mass. with her husband and five children.

Seed & Spark: 20 Is the New 50 (Percent)

We live on a planet, populated, in near-equal parts, by males and females. We move about the world, where (in our country at least), the work-force is again, split right down the middle. We all come from families, where, at least for nine months of our existence, we were held within the experience of a woman. Our first connection to another human, a literal connection which formed and fed us, was with a woman. But, you just don’t see that. Once in the world, our art and culture belie that experience. The populations in TV, in film (maybe all arts and culture), tilts strangely in one direction. It is disorienting. Disorienting because it is a lie. I don’t think art is a place for lies. I think, it’s the place for truth-tellers. For whistleblowers.

This is a guest post by Carol Roscoe.

Last week, I was talking with some actors about the TV series we were currently binge-watching. One mentioned Orange is the New Black. (Full disclosure: I was the only one among us who hadn’t seen OITNB, yet.)

“Yeah, my girlfriend wanted me to watch it with her, but then I got totally into it.”

“You sound surprised by that,” I said.

“Totally,” he agreed. Before I could ask why, another actor at the table said, “My girlfriend is really into Orange but, eh. I was really put off by it.”

“What put you off?” I asked.

I was talking with a savvy actor-writer-director and was expecting something like: not believable, didn’t like the characters, didn’t like the writing. What he actually said took me by surprise. It was this:

“Well, the characters are all really fascinating. Compelling. Like, I want to know what happens to them and about where their stories will go and all. I mean each character is really interesting enough to get their own series.”

“But…”

“But, well, I just couldn’t identify with them. I mean, all the characters are women. You just don’t see that.”

Cast of Orange is the New Black — Cast of *Orange is the New Black*

“No,” I said, “you don’t.”

“Right?” he continued, “I mean, imagine trying to watch a show where nobody reflected your experience.” (Oh, one more disclosure: I was the only woman at the table.)

“Because they are all in prison?” I asked, just in case I misunderstood him.

“No, because….you do know the premise of the show right? It’s all women.”

“I’d heard that.”

“That’s just really hard for me to connect to.”

“So it’s really disconcerting to see a story about so many people who, well, aren’t like you. I mean, gender-wise.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he said.

I nodded, trying to figure out exactly what kind of conversation I was interested in having.

“I have total compassion for you,” I said, “I know exactly what you mean.”

He looked doubtful, so I continued. I shared how my life had been plagued by the same experience. Everywhere were stories that focused on people of that other gender; books, TV, plays, movies seemed to hinge on the experience of people who, in fact, were not female. It was weird, I confessed, disorienting and disheartening. As an actor alone, that had a limiting effect on the number or roles available in a season, in theater or film. You could look it up, only 30 percent of speaking roles in film were female characters. In theater, especially classical theater, this disparity was even greater, at times male characters outnumbering females 14 to one.

“Our show’s different,” he said, proudly.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Out of five roles, one is female. We are achieving a 20 percent representation of half the world’s population.”

Graph courtesy of Econ Proph blog and the U.S. Census Bureau

“Look,” I added before he could explain how that was good, “I empathize with you. It can be a real challenge, seeing stories about people who aren’t like you. It can feel disconcerting, even marginalizing. Perhaps, though, and I can only suggest this based on my own experience, perhaps one might encounter the story as a human story, irrespective of gender. One might even investigate the difference or similarity between experiences. One might expand one’s awareness, one’s compassion, and get to experience what life is like for another person. There just might be value in that.”

He was silent for a while. Maybe he was wondering what kind of conversation he wanted to be having. After a moment he said, “Right.”

But, I was thinking about other things, like: why bother? Why be an actor? Why work that hard, for that little, in order to play a mind-boggling narrow range of roles? And for an audience made up of people who weren’t interested in anything they didn’t already know?

I got to thinking about my next project, the story of a whistleblower. In researching people who have come forward with state or corporate secrets I was struck by by how many were driven by a sense of fairness to break their code of silence. Each saw injustice, irresponsible and/or criminal acts occurring; each chose to step forward, risk their career (their lives) to act for the common good. For the whole of humanity. Not just a part of it.

We live on a planet, populated, in near-equal parts, by males and females. We move about the world, where (in our country at least), the work-force is again, split right down the middle. We all come from families, where, at least for nine months of our existence, we were held within the experience of a woman. Our first connection to another human, a literal connection which formed and fed us, was with a woman. But, you just don’t see that. Once in the world, our art and culture belie that experience. The populations in TV, in film (maybe all arts and culture), tilts strangely in one direction. It is disorienting. Disorienting because it is a lie. I don’t think art is a place for lies. I think, it’s the place for truth-tellers. For whistleblowers.

I empathize with that young man’s distress. But, I’m not interested in lying to him. Or to our audiences. How do we move from misrepresentation–no, how do we move from lying about the world to telling the truth? To breaking the silence about the injustice, disregard and dehumanizing aspects of our culture? Of our industry? How do we continue that conversation when the punishment for whistleblowers is so clear?

I’d be lying if I said I have the answer. Well, other than the obvious one. Keep having the conversation. Keep doing the work. Choose meaningful work. Create meaningful work. Work with as little misrepresentation as possible and hope that it will connect to someone. Hope that the work reaches someone across the gulf of whatever divide and offers a tiny glimpse of what life is like on the other side.

Morgan Freeman, Tim Robbins in The Shawshank Redemption — Morgan Freeman, Tim Robbins in *The Shawshank Redemption*

Carol Roscoe makes her home in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest where she teaches, acts, directs, and writes. Film work includes West of Redemption, Gamers:Dorkness Rising, Gamers: Hands of Fate, The Dark Horse, and The Whole Truth, and others. Her latest film, If There’s a Hell Below, will be released early next year. She has appeared on stages in Seattle, London, New York, Washington DC, Chicago, Tucson and Pheonix.

Seed & Spark: Female Friendship On Screen–Art Imitating Life

But what if I spent my time, instead, helping another female filmmaker make her movie involving female friendship? Wouldn’t that be just as meaningful? And could it perhaps be making an even bigger statement—promoting the “cause,” so to speak?

Producer Liz Franke, Writer/Director Augustine Frizzell and Casting Director Tisha Blood having fun during the casting session of Never Goin’ Back. — Producer Liz Franke, Writer/Director Augustine Frizzell and Casting Director Tisha Blood having fun during the casting session of *Never Goin’ Back*.

This guest post by Liz Cardenas Franke appears as part of our theme week on Female Friendship.

The desire to have more female-driven films is such a hot topic in the entertainment industry right now. And it should be. There is definitely a need for more fully developed, complex female characters in cinema and for stories that are told from a female point of view.

But let’s take it a step further. What I believe is truly lacking are stories that specifically center on female friendships. It seems to me most female-oriented movies often just look at sexual relationships from a female perspective. (OK, sometimes they also show what it’s like to be a mother or juggle family and a career.)

But if you asked someone off the street to name a movie about two female friends, a real movie, not some over-the-top, unrealistic comedy, you would most likely hear Thelma & Louise. Maybe Beaches. And that’s probably it. Sure, there are others. But you have to really think about it for a minute. The same is not true for the male counterpart of this question. Most people would have no problem rattling off a list of pictures that concentrate on male friendship. That’s because there are a ton! There’s even a subgenre for them: the male “buddy” movie.

Liz Franke directing Augustine Frizzell, who had a lead role in the Hungry Bear film, Finding Glory, which is in post-production. — Liz Franke directing Augustine Frizzell, who had a lead role in the Hungry Bear film, *Finding Glory*, which is in post-production.

So, as a female filmmaker myself, what could I do to make a difference? Of course, I could go ahead and make one. I do, after all, write and produce films, alongside my husband, and many of them have strong female lead characters. For example, in our family feature, Summer’s Shadow, the protagonist is a bright and independent 12-year-old girl who rescues a sweet, stray dog and will stop at nothing to save him. And it’s her determination that ultimately impacts those around her, both children and adults. And I just directed (for the first time!) a short film, titled Treading Water, which I also wrote, and it is about a woman in her 30s who tries to come to grips with her new reality of caring for her elderly father in her childhood home.

But what if I spent my time, instead, helping another female filmmaker make her movie involving female friendship? Wouldn’t that be just as meaningful? And could it perhaps be making an even bigger statement—promoting the “cause,” so to speak?

Well, that is what I’ve done. I am currently a producer on the feature film of a fellow female filmmaker (say that three times fast!) who also happens to be a dear friend of mine. Her name is Augustine Frizzell, and she is the writer/director of Never Goin’ Back. Her movie centers on the friendship between two 16-year-old girls who come from lower socio-economic backgrounds (also grossly underrepresented in cinema) and their misadventures as they try to win back their jobs at the local Pancake House in order to make rent. They have absentee parents and are high school dropouts living on their own, except for an older brother and his friends. So, ultimately, they only have each other. And they go through the ups and downs of life together.

Producers and friends Augustine Frizzell, Liz Franke and Kelly Snowden watching the monitor on Franke’s short film, Treading Water. — Producers and friends Augustine Frizzell, Liz Franke and Kelly Snowden watching the monitor on Franke’s short film, *Treading Water*.

This is a personal story for Augustine. It is based on her own experiences. So by working as a producer on her feature, I am helping her tell her own story. And I believe if we really want to see more narratives about true female friendships on screen, then we must actually experience them in real life, as well.

Augustine and I have worked on each other’s projects in the past— I was an executive producer on her short film, she was a producer and acted in mine. However, due to the magnitude of this project (a full-length feature with an ultra low budget and a three-week shoot), it has taken our relationship to the next level. And through it all, it’s been such a positive experience.

Being filmmakers in a male-dominated industry (who also happen to be married to male directors), we can relate to each other. We can also be vulnerable and let down our guards in front of each other. And that is what has been so special and has, quite honestly, blown me away. We do not let ego get in the way. There is no jealousy. No backstabbing. No ulterior motives. We truly support and encourage each other and want each other to be successful, and you hardly ever see that in movies or on TV.

I have to be honest. I have never really had that before in this business. Of course, my husband is always extremely supportive and encouraging, as is hers. But it has been so rewarding to make a real girlfriend in this business, and someone who is pursuing the same thing as I am. It makes me feel like anything is possible. By helping each other, I think we will make a difference. One movie at a time.

Liz Franke and Augustine Frizzell, who both happen to be actresses as well as writers and directors, filming a scene.

And it doesn’t end there. We have so many women working on this project, many of whom are donating some or all of their time or services. Kelly Snowden, my fellow female producer on this project, (there is one male producer—we don’t discriminate after all) has worked tirelessly from the beginning to help our director obtain her vision. And from the Casting Director to our Costumer Designer to our Production Coordinator —they are all women. All of them work regularly in the industry and have still found time to help on this project. This support system of women we’re creating is truly amazing. I was always taught to lead by example, as opposed to simply talking about wanting change. That’s what we’re doing. And it feels really good.

Liz Cardenas Franke is an actress, writer and producer. She and her husband have made seven feature films through their production company, Hungry Bear, including the successful “Adventures of Bailey” series. A member of Women in Film and SAG-AFTRA, Liz was a former reporter for The Dallas Morning News and the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, as well as the Vice President of International Sales for Engine 15 Media Group. She is a graduate of Texas Christian University with a B.S. in Broadcast Journalism.

Seed & Spark: In-Betweeners: The Absence of Gender Fluidity in Media

Characters play a key role in our individual process of self-discovery. Stories have always been there to help us learn, to see from another’s point of view, or think deeper than before. What makes us human is that we turn these lessons into reflections of what we want. Through the pairing of images and concepts, I can wrap together the “idealized” me. But what happens when I cannot find myself in what I see on screen? What happened to those who lived in times when LGBTQI content was more taboo than it is now? We create.

This is a guest post by E.A. Francis.

I am an other, an in-between. I use the term “gender fluid” and I don’t consider myself a woman or a man.

I am still perceived by the world as a woman, though, and was raised as such. Sometimes people study me in public, trying to figure out what I am. It can be an ostracizing experience to move through the world as a point of people’s interest. But at the same time, I realize the value of my position. Those that glance, stare, and make eye contact are looking for my story, even if only for a second. That story is a long one—coming into my own took time. I’ve moved through stages and terms and confines until I grabbed ahold of me. And that’s what I want to see on the screen: the rawness of what it means to be conflicted and confined within your own skin.

In some ways, we have come a long way. I can now turn on the TV or head to the movies and see gay, lesbian, or bisexual characters. Even more recently, I have even seen multiple transgender characters on shows like Orange is the New Black. But there was a time when these representations were less frequent, confined to art house films. I remember my fascination with transmen characters like Brandon in Boys Don’t Cry or Max from The L Word. I looked at them and wondered, “Is that me?” I used to deny just how much we ingest media into our personalities and our understandings of our physical beings, but I’ve come to recognize how I compare myself to the images presented. Since I have no gender fluid characters, I turn toward the lesbian and trans communities.

Just like an author who writes the book they wish to read, our first instinct with storytelling is to speak the truths and questions that are within us as individuals in the hope that others share the same thoughts. But there is a stretch, often very long, between conceptualization and the completed project. I applaud our film and TV communities that have pushed for the stories less told, that show us characters with whom the minority can relate—they assist the majority in understanding that we exist and matter. Understanding another’s plight is what has lead humans to our greatest feats and I believe that some of the earliest LGBTQI movements have taken place in film and TV.

But there is a timeline, more or less, when a queer character is introduced in media. Often they are alone in their queerness and are there only to act as a foil, or as a stereotype, or to confirm that it is easy to place this type of person into a single category. Worse still is the implication that their storylines can be disregarded. The audience is supposed to believe that it is enough that the character is onscreen. I watched it happen on The L Word with Max. Quick scenes of transitioning from a female body to a male body, which is a massive process of its own, and then some confusion from the other queer characters about the authenticity of this “new other’s” experience. Here, I watched fictional lesbians, who had faced stigmas and hatred, turn the same bias to another in their queer community.

In Orange is the New Black, Sophia, who is struggling to stay on estrogen as she transitions from a male body to a female body, has a storyline that includes her son distancing himself from her and her wife moving on to be with an actual man. These points were left behind in season one and in season two we watched Sophia cut other, more “important” characters’ hair in the same salon— as though they filmed all of Laverne Cox’s scenes in one day. Where was the development? Where was her conflict? A single scene of dialogue between her and the nun about her relationship with her son skirts around the actual emotional turbulence of that time.

As an audience member, I was waiting for the moment her son expressed his thoughts to her in person, where the tension could either rise and peak or leave us hanging and thinking. But we were left, instead, to follow the story of the bisexual white woman, Piper. There are still many, many issues that lesbians, gays, and bisexuals face (including having their sexuality constantly challenged), but they are becoming more “mainstream,” more commonplace, and even deemed acceptable for families (as suggested by the popularity of Modern Family). The queer communities that lie outside of that newly developed safe zone are next in line for scrutiny in the public eye though they have always suffered massively and violently.

This is why it is crucial that our community, filmmakers and audience alike, help lift up projects that explore the experiences of a wider array of people. Frankly? I have all the hope in the world that we will accomplish this goal. It will take time, but perseverance will rule out. Let’s do this.

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E.A. Francis is an activist and interdisciplinary artist based in Chicago, Ill. Their work examines social issues surrounding gender, culture, and politics. E is a graduate of Columbia College Chicago’s Fiction Writing Department. Their current project is Kendra & Obi, which follows an African American couple working to stay together while yearning to understand themselves as individuals. Patch of Prodigy Productions LLC is hosting a live twitter event on Saturday, Sept. 20, 2014 from 1-3 p.m. CT which discusses POC in the predominantly white world of higher education. Join the conversation, which features guest speakers Sophia Nahli Allison (visual storyteller @SophiaNAllison) and Andrea Hart (Teaching Artist @lenifaye) by using the hashtag #kendraobi. Reach out to E on twitter @eafrancis2 or Facebook at Official EA Francis.