a final "piece".

One of the many challenges I faced during the pre-prod of “a final peace” was the dearth of information regarding my uncle’s short tenure in the Navy (he was on ‘active’ duty for less than two years before he went AWOL). His decision to join had been made in desperation and was unplanned. Few in my family maintained any contact with him during that time period. I, therefore, had no one who could provide any account of Tommy’s experience or, why he decided to go AWOL after only 18 months on board.

From Tommy’s service records, I was able to get the name of his ship and the exact time period he was active. I found out that he had been assigned to the “USS Barbey”; a small frigate stationed in Long Beach, California. Through other online sources I was able to get a list of former shipmates who served on the Barbey at the same time. For weeks I sent emails to these men, asking if they had known Tom. The majority claimed they did not. Some thought they may have known him and asked for more information. But after two months of digging, I still had no one.

Gaps in a person’s history are not uncommon. If you think about it, it’s very difficult to account for a person’s every movement, even when you have a substantial pool of witnesses. For documentarians it is a reality that we struggle with, but frequently find ways to overcome. However, a 14-year gap in the history of a man who died when he was 35 is unacceptable. It is enough reason to question the viability of a project, which is where I found myself halfway through the pre-prod schedule. I had little to no information about Tommy’s adult life, beginning from the time he entered the Navy until his announcement that he had AIDS. I needed information on both if I was going to be able to finish my film.

The American Heritage Dictionary defines “serendipity” as, “The faculty of making fortunate and unexpected discoveries by accident.” The only problem I have with this definition is the phrase “by accident.” To me, “serendipity” is the result of putting yourself in the right place, at the right time. We can’t always know in advance how certain choices we make are going to influence and guide our future efforts, but every once in awhile things ‘connect’ in a way that really blows the mind.

My decision to move to Monterey had nothing to do with filmmaking. It had nothing to do with making a documentary about my uncle. When I made the decision to move, I was still committed to the idea of becoming a professional photographer. In other words, when I moved I had no desire, conscious or unconscious, to make “a final peace”.

After two months of failing to find anyone who would even admit to knowing my uncle while he was in the Navy, I received an email from Michael Bennett asking if I had a recent photo of Tommy. The only photos I had were taken 14 years after his discharge, but I sent them anyways. After a few days, I received the following response:

“Hi john I really don’t know where to begin, I saw your inquiry in the shipmates letters and emails. Yes I knew your uncle I knew him very well as a matter of fact. When he was in the Navy…I was one of his best friends…”

Michael went on to describe his relationship with Tom, and some of the things they had done together. Not only had I found someone who knew Tom, but I had found his “best friend”. At first, I was elated and then soon after, I felt humbled. Not only was Michael willing to give me an interview of his experiences with Tom, he also lived less than five miles from my home. He lived in the same city.

To this day I am still awed by the improbabilities inherent in this event.

It was after this that I started to wonder if perhaps the film had a more important reason for being than simply an undergraduate film student’s dreams. We recorded the interview nearly six months later. The information we received from Mike was like finding a big fat piece of a puzzle. We now had an understanding of what Tommy endured immediately after his abuse of Jason, and just before he disappeared into the fringe-sex-underground of San Francisco’s gay community. In many ways what we learned from Mike became metaphorical of the title, a final “piece”.

Why we take risks.

(outtake from "a final peace" featuring my cousin Jason. This is unedited so apologies for the sound and lighting)


It was late one night and I was enjoying some cocktails, when my phone rang. I rarely get calls that late unless they are emergencies and the phone number was unknown to me, so I was a little apprehensive as I answered it.


“Hello?”
“Hello cousin.”
“Jason?”
“Yeah it’s me.”


It was my cousin Jason, you will recognize him as the only bearded man interviewed in the film. He sounded subdued, but not panicked.


“How are you doin Jay? What’s goin on?”
“I’m ready to tell you my story now.”
“What?”
“I’m ready to tell you what happened to me with Tommy.”


Month’s before, I had called Jason’s mother, Candace, to ask if she would allow me to interview her for the film. She is Tom’s second oldest stepsister and knew him better than anyone else in the family. It was then that I learned about an incident involving Tom and two of her children.


Up to that point I had believed that I was the only one that had been molested by Tommy. To hear, now, that my younger cousin, someone that I considered (and still consider) to be more like a little brother, may have also been victimized, literally took my breath away.


If you are going to do a doc about your family, be prepared to learn things that you may never have wanted to know; and if your subject is something as painful as incest, be prepared for some of the things you learn to hurt. I can’t explain it any better than that.


My aunt would not reveal the details of what had happened but simply said that, in deference to her children, she could not participate without their approval. This situation highlights how often we have to make choices, important choices, with little to no information on which to base them. The only things I knew about what had happened were that it involved my 7 and 13 year-old cousins, and that it was most likely sexual in nature. Looking back, it was like I was standing on a precipice with no idea of what was down below.


As visual journalists we are expected to take risks, sometimes without a clear idea of what is at stake. Some of the choices we make fall flat on their collective ass and all we get in return is a bruised ego and a hard lesson learned. But every once in awhile the risks we take lead us to truth. It is for these moments that we should always be willing to jump.


After weeks of cajoling, my cousin finally agreed to discuss the project with me at his convenience. It would be another several weeks before I would receive the call described earlier. Jason not only agreed to share his incredible and heart-wrenching experience with me, but to do so on camera, if that is what I preferred.


This was a pivotal moment for the project because it marked a significant departure from my original theme. Rather than a memorial to Tom, the film’s focus would be more comprehensive, and dare I say ‘realistic’. This change in ‘purpose’ would ultimately lead to the most amazing find of the whole production: Tommy’s best friend in the Navy.


Next week we will continue our journey as we turn our attention to Tom’s experiences in the Navy, and my discovery of the “only good friend he had”. Have a great week everybody.

Last week we examined the importance of maintaining good organization throughout the production process, and especially in pre-prod. Since then I have been asked to comment on my experiences in the making of the film “a final peace”.

For those of you who don’t know, “a final peace” was my first independent film and my first documentary. It focuses primarily on the life of my uncle and the challenges he experienced from the time he was a child until his untimely death at the age of 35 from AIDS.

More than a simple recounting of Tom’s life, the film is an examination of the traumatic effects of incest and pedophilia on my family, and how they are coping with what happened to Tommy 25 years after his death.

I have never openly discussed the project, or the challenges I experienced during its production, but now feel that it may be a good time to start. So, beginning this week we will examine what it means to make a documentary about a subject that is extremely personal and sensitive, using “a final peace” as our guide.

The idea for “a final peace” first came to me as a possible subject for my senior thesis. At the time I really didn’t know the full history of what happened to my uncle, or how extensively his life had affected others. I knew that he had been molested by his father when he was still a child, and that, for whatever reason, no one in my family did anything about it. My goal, therefore, was to uncover exactly what had happened, why, and what it meant to those involved today.

Initially the film was to be a kind of “celebration” of my uncle’s life; something that would emphasize the more favorable qualities that I felt best represented the kind of person he was to me. Looking back on it now, I see the film as an excellent example of how dramatically our motivations and intentions can change from the time we first conceive of an idea for a film, to the end of its production.

The first task I gave myself was to discuss my idea with my family, and to gauge their level interest and support. Regardless of what I intended the film to be at the time, the reality was that the subject was still very painful for many in my family. I needed to know who would be willing to sit down and share their experiences in front of a camera, and who would not.

While the responses I got were varied, the majority of my family members approved of the idea, and most were willing to participate in its realization. Only one family member in particular, my Uncle Reider (Tom’s older step-brother), refused to assist.

This was an unexpected and significant disappointment. Because of the close relationship he had enjoyed with Tom, I was counting on his participation as both an interviewee and primary source. But despite my sincere efforts to convince him of the ‘good’ of the project, he refused to help.

When this happens early in a production, the first thought you have is, can I complete the film without their help? Since the pool of interviewees may be limited (as it often is), it is crucial that you secure as many as you can that have an intimate or first-hand knowledge of the subject matter. My uncle refusing to participate was, therefore, a major blow to my plans right out of the gate.

As has been discussed in previous blogs, your intuition plays a tremendous role in the filmmaking process. When challenges arise, it becomes one of the primary factors in helping you to determine which path to take. Despite my uncle’s refusal to help, my instincts told me that I would find a way to do the film without his assistance, even if that meant that I had to change the film’s intent.

Fortunately, my instincts were correct. I did finish the film without my uncle’s help and I am convinced that it is better because of it. Still, at the time, I was greatly concerned that I would not be able to find someone to replace my uncle and the content that he could provide. Little did I know that I would soon land an extremely important interview that would dramatically change the focus of the piece; or that, an unlikely family member would join the project and deliver the most compelling content of the entire film.

Next week we will discuss the role of serendipity in “a final peace”, and why I came to believe that it was my ‘destiny’ to tell the story of “Tom-Tom Stubbs”.

"Well organized"? You mean, "BORING AS HELL!"

Last week I mentioned the name of my current project “American Dachau”; a short documentary about the Atascadero State Mental Hospital, and the mistreatment administered to homosexuals during the first 30 years of its existence. Since I am currently in pre-production, I thought it would be beneficial to discuss how I approach this important aspect of the filmmaking process and the benefits of being well organized.

Being an “independent filmmaker” means wearing a lot of different hats throughout the entire production, especially in pre-production. Even if you are blessed to have a dedicated research assistant along with a producer, it is up to you to guide their efforts in a way that is efficient and productive. This means having a clear understanding of the information you need to tell your story, and where to get it. While the Internet has made these tasks infinitely easier, do not be surprised if you find yourself mining such antiquated resources as microfiche at the local law library. In other words, we now have even more information at our disposal, making it of even greater importance that we remain well organized.
People have asked me if it’s possible to be “too organized” and my answer is, “of course”. The purpose of organization is to facilitate the decision-making process. From the first day of pre-production to the last festival you submit to, you are going to make about 10,000 choices. It is vital, therefore, that we do all we can to make it easier to make good decisions. Good organization is the key and it can’t be “faked”.

This is probably the most challenging discipline to teach an artist. As artists we are far more interested in the creative aspects of our medium. Thus, “well organized” is just another expression for “boring as hell”. Here is where the rubber hits the road for many who wish to join the “independent filmmaker” ranks and fail. I have been the unfortunate witness to countless productions that started with noble intentions, but later succumbed to a lack of discipline. Again, I cannot stress enough that good organization is the key.

So what do I mean by “good organization”? For me this means a great deal of planning and forethought before you even pick up a camera. It also means finding a method for expressing my ideas and then having the ability to examine and modify them later. The photo above is of an item that I have come to regard as indispensible in my work as a filmmaker: the whiteboard.

As you may notice, the level of detail ranges from the specific to the 30,000ft level. This is one of the many reasons why I love it. It allows me to get a fairly comprehensive viewpoint of my project and the stage that I am in as it relates to the whole. But maybe the whiteboard isn’t for you.  Perhaps you prefer something more discreet. It really doesn’t matter. The important thing is that you find something that will allow you to see the path ahead clearly. The same goes for your methods of saving contacts, making appointments, keeping notes, setting milestones; in short, anything related to your research. Your methods should make it easier for you to make sound decisions and stay the course. If you find yourself constantly stubbing your toe against unforeseen circumstances, it’s likely due to poor organization. So while it may be possible to be “too organized”, my recommendation is that you over-compensate until you find the right balance; in this case too much is better than too little.

Next week we will discuss more pre-production duties, including where to look for information and how to get it. Until then, here is a link to a behind the scene’s look at the making of the documentary “Witch Hunt”.  Pay particular attention to the kind of research the directors had to do.