CRASH WHERE YOU LAND

Hi, guys. 

Back in the Fall of 1996, while an undergrad at Southern Methodist University in Dallas, TX, I took a documentary film course taught by Tom Bywaters.  Tom was new to teaching at the time, but he was already a veteran of network television.  He had won a couple of Emmys, three Peabodys, and God knows what else. 

Personally, I was most impressed by the fact that he had worked on the Maysles’ 1970 documentary, “Gimme Shelter,” which featured The Rolling Stones (still my all-time favorite band) and shed some light on the infamous “Nightmare at Altamont.”  Tom also had in his possession the only surviving copy of a short film by Jim Morrison, which was made during the latter’s brief stint as a film student at UCLA.  Very, very cool stuff.  But I digress…

Anyway, Tom didn’t just expose me to some of the greatest documentary films (e.g. “Titicut Follies,” “Gray Gardens,” “The Thin Blue Line,” “Roger & Me,” “High on Crack Street,” etc.), he was also a great inspiration to me personally. 

One day, as I was sitting in class, I started to think about the homeless kids in New Orleans’ French Quarter.  Although I’d grown up in St. Louis, Missouri, I always had family in New Orleans and visited frequently.  Whenever I did, I would inevitably find myself in the French Quarter and, whenever I did, I would always wonder about the homeless teenagers I saw on the streets there.  Who were they?  Where were they from?  Why were they on the streets?  What went wrong? 

Suddenly, it dawned on me that these questions might serve as a basis for an interesting documentary film.  I turned to my friend, Chris Mano, and said something like, “I want to do a documentary about homeless kids in New Orleans.  Wanna do it with me?” 

Chris must have thought it was a decent idea, too, because he agreed.  Then, after class, we approached Tom and told him our idea.  After hearing it, he said simply and without hesitation, “Do it.” 

Literally, within a few weeks, we were on the streets of New Orleans, shooting during our Christmas holiday. 

My friend, Colin Bickley, lent me his pro-grade Hi-8 camera.  My friend, Brandon Blake, agreed to shoot the film.  My parents agreed to let everyone crash at their house.  And family and friends coughed up the $750 budget.  God, I miss the speed with which projects used to come together. 

What followed over the next couple of weeks was a profoundly disturbing life experience.  The stories I heard possessed me like demons as I lied awake in bed each night.  And I wouldn’t fully exorcise them for years. 

When shooting was complete, we returned to Dallas with more hours of footage than I could ever count.  Having never edited a documentary before, I didn’t know where to start and the task was truly daunting.  And so, I began to log the footage, transcribing each tape in detail until they were all gone.  The process took months. 

When it was finished, though, I had essentially an unedited scrīpt of every shot and every word we’d captured, complete with time code.  Having written screenplays before, I decided to organize my footage on paper first.  Organizing, structuring, cutting, pasting, editing, etc.  This, too, took months. 

When it was finished, though, I essentially had an edited scrīpt of how the documentary would look if we ordered the raw footage exactly according to my list of time codes.  There was just one problem.  I had envisioned the documentary as a feature-length affair, but we lacked the time and the resources to assemble such a lengthy cut.  Borrowing a camera was one thing.  Borrowing an AVID and someone who knew how to use it was something else. 

And so, it was decided that we would do a 30-minute cut and, if the film generated sufficient interest, we would go back and lengthen it.  Chris and I spent many nights hunched over my scrīpt, trimming it down to 30 pages.  (It’s a rule of thumb that 1 page of scrīpt is roughly equivalent to 1 minute of screentime.) 

Once the scrīpt was of a manageable length, the real editing began.  My friend and frequent collaborator, Stewart Mayer, would once again prove himself to be utterly invaluable.  Stewart, my usual cinematographer, wasn’t able to shoot the documentary, but he was able to edit it for us.  At the time, Stewart was working at Quin Mathews Films, a small production company in Deep Ellum.  Needless to say, the place became like a second home to us, as we spent many long nights assembling our little documentary. 

When the editing was finally complete, I lamented the fact that the film wasn’t what I originally envisioned, but was quite pleased with what it had become, especially given the constraints with which we had to contend. 

The film was accepted at most of the film and video festivals that we submitted it to, but the entry fees were murder -- and they added up, eventually costing more than the budget of the film itself.  Ultimately, the film either wasn't good enough or simply didn't get seen enough to generate the interest we felt it needed to warrant a longer cut.

The unused footage did, however, serve as the basis for "All the Sinners Saints," a feature-length scrīpt that got me one of my first writing gigs in Hollywood.  So, in the end, I guess it all worked out. 

It’s hard to believe it was over ten years ago already. 

In any case, I want to thank Tom, Chris, Stewart, Brandon, Colin, Margaret, Jan, Rose, my family, and everyone else who helped us on the film.  Without your generosity, we couldn't have completed the film.  And, most importantly, I want to thank our subjects.  Without your stories, there would have been no film. 

With Stewart’s help, I’ve uploaded the documentary onto Youtube.  It is broken down into three parts and can be viewed below.  I hope you find it interesting. 

-Dax

Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STGM6_RrS3U

Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EbEbRd5SbgA

Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHL6NJS1IYE