therestlessnest

where life's not empty, it's restless.

Archive for the tag “documentary filmmaking”

Get Close

get_close_cover_hrver2I love that my husband’s first book is called Get Close. In two words, it sums up his best filmmaking advice. And captures his own striking style. And reminds me of what I have learned from working with him, lo these many years.

I am thrilled to report that Get Close: Lean Team Documentary Filmmaking will be published by Oxford University Press on February 1, 2019. It’s available for pre-order now. If you know an aspiring documentary filmmaker, or you are one, or maybe you think you might be one because you have a film in mind that you’ve always wanted to make but you’re not sure where to start, then buy this book. Rustin Thompson will tell you everything you need to know, starting with those two words.

As Rus is quick to explain, he did not invent the idea of “getting close.” It was World War II photographer Robert Capa who famously said, “If your photographs aren’t good enough, you’re not close enough.” Rus also quotes former UN Ambassador Samantha Power, who—inspired by Capa—advised Yale students in a commencement address that “if you truly want to live fully and leave the world a little better than you found it, you have to get close…  Get close. Go all in. Get close to the people affected by your work. Seek out perspectives different from your own. And work to bring others close with you.”

For a filmmaker, this means shooting close to your subjects, so physically close that you and your camera will connect them to viewers in a way that will bring their story, their humanity, fully to life. “You probably won’t become longtime friends with your subjects,” Rus writes, “nor will the divides of class and race magically melt away forever, but for the brief time of your shoot you will be communicating almost non-verbally. The experience can be profound. Getting close has become my way of looking at the world, my philosophy of visual thinking.”

What is always fascinating to me, when I watch Rus shoot this way, is how quickly the people he is filming get used to it. People want to be seen.

And they want to be heard, which is where I come in. Sometimes—especially if Rus has already been filming for a while—the only question I have to ask is, “Tell me your story.” And then my job is simply to listen. Not to tell them what I think of it all; just to listen. That’s how I get close, when we do the work of documentary filmmaking.

But Rus makes it possible, and in Get Close he tells you how, covering everything from planning your project, to essential gear, to shooting, editing and, ultimately, how to get over your self-doubt and get past the gatekeepers and find your audience.

Getting close: it’s like the difference between sitting down in the sand and digging and pouring and laughing out loud with your one-year-old, or standing 20 feet away and watching her play.

It’s like the difference between making a film, or thinking about making a film. Writing a book, painting a painting, composing a song—or not. Trying to solve problems, to tackle tough issues, or trying to tune them out.

Getting close: as Samantha Power can attest, it makes for a rich life.

Seattle-area readers: I will be teaching Introduction to Memoir Writing again at Seattle Central College beginning April 1st. Six Monday nights. Registration opens February 14. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quote from Get Close about getting close.

What that means in life as well as filmmaking. Writing. Volunteering etc.

Parents at the beach who put down their phones and play with their kids.

Surfers? Going inside the wave? Hmmm maybe not.

“Don’t be shy, meet a guy, pull up a chair…”

 

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Dateline Máncora

IMG_1585There are only so many ways to describe a beautiful beach. The true beauty of it, for writers and readers, is the way it allows your mind to travel lightly, far and wide, or to venture deeply and with great absorption, as you wish or as you dare, always returning to the anchor of the beauty before you. The surprise of it, on this trip, is that our beach is in Peru.

Peru is the Inca Trail, the glorious Andes, sprawling, sleepless Lima. It is also one of the most ecologically diverse countries in the world. From where I’m sitting now in Máncora, on the north coast, the Amazon basin is not far away. Nor are the snowy high sierras. But this coastal landscape is a rugged desert edged by a strip of long, curving bays and beaches.

We came to Máncora because it is a town my great-uncle and his family lived in for a year in the 1950s. It was a dramatic change from their elegant Lima home. My cousin Andy remembers Máncora as an 11-year-old’s backwater paradise, where he played in the dusty hills and on the sublime beach. We are in Peru to wrap up filming on our documentary, Zona Intangible, which was inspired by my great-uncle, who lived here for two decades and was a pioneer of Peru’s fishmeal industry. The film won’t be all about fishmeal or all about my uncle; it will, mostly, tell the story of a handmade city outside Lima where a clinic on a dusty back street bears his name and where the notion of what home is has taken on a new meaning. Is home a one-room shack on a hill of sand? A house in a fishing village where your father has decided you’ll live for this one year? Is it where your family lives, or is it where they came from?

Máncora is an easy-going town; a surfer’s paradise; the kind of place people roll into and stay longer than they thought they would. Our hotel—EcoLodge Máncora—is owned and run by French ex-pats. Much tinier than its name implies, it feels more like an old-fashioned guesthouse, the kind of place Graham Greene might have stayed, cross-bred with a tree-house that just kept getting bigger. The rambling “hostel” where we watched the Superbowl (Seattle friends: I will say nothing more on that front, I promise) featured a swimming pool, a ping-pong table, a cavernous bar with a big screen and many guests who appeared barely old enough to travel on their own. Maybe some of them will stay and make this their home for a while.

Rustin and I started our marriage living out of backpacks and traveling around the world for ten months. So sometimes, traveling feels a bit like an emotional home for us. A place where we’re comfortable together. Trips like this one—where we’re working for ourselves (Zona Intangible) and for others (the University of Washington’s Dept. of Global Health, which is doing amazing work in Peru) and also vacationing (the beach) feel natural to us. But, unlike during that first year of our marriage, we now do have a home, and it’s in Seattle. And as we near the end of this trip, we’re looking forward to getting back to it. Cold weather and all.

My Introduction to Memoir Writing class at Seattle Central College is now full! Next session will be in Fall 2015.

Buy Her Beautiful Brain from the small or large bookstore of your choice. Find a bookstore here. Order the Kindle version here.

I had a great conversation with Women in Film Seattle President Virginia Bogert that she turned into a member profile of yours truly. Thanks, Virginia!

 

 

 

 

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