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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