The horror! The horror!

As a production company, we have to obviously be very selective about the projects we take on. Sometimes, it's a simple matter of what stories we want to tell and what characters or themes resonate with us as filmmakers, as artists. Sometimes, it's a desire to step outside our boundaries and create something in an entirely different style, a la Rendezvous. In all honesty, though, I don't know if we've ever considered the marketability of a film as our primary criteria for production.

Horror films, even the most expensive and lavishly produced ones, are almost guaranteed money-makers. They have a built-in audience that doesn't care about the quality of the film: if it's bad, it'll be a fun night, and if it's good, they'll enjoy a good scare. And the vast majority of horror films are bad. Aggressively bad. One-dimensional characters, recycled plots, gruesome gore that disgusts more than scares...sure, it's appealing if you want to turn your brain off and have a beer with your buddies, but you'll forget it the next day.

Cole and I have talked often about it. Why don't we just make a horror film, some kind of easy-money slasher flick to make a name for ourselves and make some money to produce the films we actually like, such as Separation Anxiety or Happily After? The answer's a complicated one; after all, we're not just trying to make money. We're trying to establish a brand, a company known for quality films that go beyond the cheap thrill or easy laugh, known for a style and a work ethic. To distribute a lo-grade slasher flick would be an insult to the audience we want to cultivate, and might typecast us. We don't want to be the blood-and-guts company.

There's a conundrum to this as well: I love horror movies.

I know, right? You wouldn't guess it from this post so far. So let's backtrack: I don't admire horror films as works of art, and you'll never see your usual run-of-the-mill horror film in my Top Ten. I do, however, appreciate the ones that transcend their genre or that embrace the genre's qualities and use them to their advantage. There's a kind of poetic, allegorical rhythm to the best slasher films. George Romero still believes zombies have something to say about consumerism and society. Wes Craven believes in horror remakes if they can be adapted to comment on today's world. Night of the Living Dead, Halloween and its infinite variants, the Saw movies, Last House on the Left...you might chastise them for catering to their audience, but taken as a whole you could actually find commentaries on society in them.

Or you could call shenanigans on whatever I just said.

Regardless, the point is this: I'm all for making a horror film if it pushes the boundaries of what we expect from a horror film. Few people would consider No Country For Old Men a horror film, but I dare you to find a more horrifying villain in the past decade than Anton Chigurh. Let The Right One In may be a straight vampire movie, but it is primarily a tale of innocence lost set against the backdrop of a country in decline. (It's also beautifully shot.) Thus, Hangers, our first under the Glass City Films label, is a ghost story wrapped in a romantic comedy, a genre-bending film with a fun script and no blood or guts to speak of. And yet, it still manages to scare and shock, and even comments on superficiality and the danger of acting on incomplete information.

These are the films we aspire to create. I'm all for crafting a marketable film. But our belief is that marketability and quality are synonymous. A horror film can have strong characters, good stories, and smart writing. A horror film can shock and scare without showing the most graphic images possible. And if we can craft a film we're proud of and sell it as well, all the better.

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A new beginning...

Welcome, all! More introductions are on the way, but for now, I'm John Klein, the resident producer and director of photography for Glass City Films and, to pay the bills, I'm a Chicago-based freelance cinematographer and camera operator.

First of all, a minor disclaimer: we here at Glass City Films have tried more than once to start a blog. We gave it a go during pre-production on Glass City; the effort lasted four posts. We tried harder with Separation Anxiety, even scheduling weekly topics. One month in, the plan sank. I've come to realize now that the problem wasn't enthusiasm, but pressure. Tie the blog to a project, and suddenly it becomes an obligation. Thus, the Glass City Films blog was born out of the simple desire to talk about whatever tickles our fancy in the world of film, whether it's our projects or others, whether it's promoting ourselves or fellow Midwest artists.

So, again, welcome.

Cole (more from him later) suggested I kick off the blog with The Story of How It All Began. Where, when, and why did Glass City Films come to be? Why was Glass City the first feature film script I wrote? How did Cole and I become friends and colleagues? All grand questions, deserving of their own entries. This one is simply a beginning.


GLASS CITY - Writing The Script

Here we go. Brace yourself for a long first entry...

Emma: "I should've been a marketing major."
Mike: "Why weren't you?"
Emma: "I didn't stick around long enough to choose a major."

I graduated from Notre Dame in spring 2006. My girlfriend Kathleen was working on campus for the summer, so I opted to stick around South Bend and work at the Performing Arts Center during the day. And sitting in Equipment Checkout for hours each day during the summer gets just a bit boring, so...I started writing. And I kept coming back to this one idea, stemming from my experiences with Still Waiting Productions, a small theatre company I founded in Toledo just after high school. About one in particular who was a bit older than the rest of us, who was the brother of writer-director Cole. About friends of mine who dreamt of leaving Toledo, who hadn't finished school for one reason or another. About others who were gossip hounds and who had children at young, accidental ages.

Ethan: "We both loved theatre, and so...Glass City."

The title came obvious to me. Garden State was about New Jersey without being remotely about it. Glass City would be about Toledo by being about Toledoans. I named the company in the film the Glass City Players to provide an extra linkage to the city. Centering the film around Mike - who, in the first draft, resembled Cole's brother Chad more than necessary - was an easy choice, in that Mike's story arc as I crafted it seemed to parallel what I wanted to say about Toledo. Fight stagnancy.

Sarah: "You could exercise your flabby creative muscles..."
Mike: "Thanks. Thanks for that."

I write rather mechanically. I start off with a single summary line, or perhaps write a stretch of dialogue for a couple of the main characters. (Mike and Emma's dialogue under the bridge was written on a beach in Florida, on a pad of paper out of my mom's purse.) I expand it to a page-long treatment. I expand the treatment to a five-page, scene-by-scene outline of the film. And finally, I start writing script.

I'll jump around - the opening five pages were written shortly after the seven pages of dialogue on the balcony, and the fight between Mike and Sarah came just days after their first conversation at the diner - simply because different parts of the story excite me at different times. But I'll aim for about 3-4 pages per day, just to have something on paper.

Mike (or, if I'm fair, Chad Simon): "If I can look back and see you, perhaps you can look forward and see me and the hope that nothing is permanent."

Draft One of Glass City - it was the title then, as it is now - came in at 82 pages. In Draft One, the paint fight was a car wash, Mike burned his book instead of throwing it off the bridge, Ethan didn't have a terminal illness, there was a long, Rent-induced credits sequence of Super8 footage, and there were countless needless references to various Toledo arcana. I credit half a dozen people with reading and commenting on every facet of the script during the rewrites process, especially Cole, who connected dots in a way I had only imagined possible.

That first draft was churned out in three weeks. It needed to be that way. It needed to be cathartic. Two months later, I would be stepping out into an unknown void, wondering how I would make a living as a cinematographer. This script, for me, represented the best of everything I was leaving behind in Toledo - possibly for good - and the best of all my creative influences, from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind to Garden State to Before Sunrise to my own background with theatre companies large and small.

In short, it was an expulsion of one chapter of my life. I would never have dreamed the result could be the start of an entirely new chapter. And yet, three films and thirteen festivals later, Glass City has given birth to Glass City Films.

I can't wait to share all these stories with you.

Ethan: "At least now you have something to come home to when you return. If not a company, then a few friends."

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Welcome to the Glass City Films Blog!

Seriously, welcome. More posts coming real soon. Stay tuned.

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