What kind of hipster would I be if I didn't love independent film? I mean, okay, yes, I do like some studio films--films by Pixar, certain Tim Burton specials, and just about anything by Chris Nolan--but I truly love independent films. Maybe this is just because I've made independent films and can appreciate the effort behind them--the long night shoots because everyone has to work around their "day jobs;" the innovative substitutes for proper lights and equipment; the refreshing performances given by first-time actors--but I think it goes beyond that.
There is something that's just plain freaking magical about independent cinema. Maybe it's the fact that, unlike so many franchise-made, over-merchandised studio films, if you find an indie film you love, you can almost guarantee that the person who made it has a heart and soul--or at the very least, taste in art--similar to your own. And if you've been "the weird one," or even just the "kind-of-weird one" your whole life, that can feel like discovering the Holy Grail.
These are my top ten indie films. Most of them are not PC or PG. They range from difficult-to-take-in dramas to laugh-out-loud, you'd-never-get-away-with-that-in-a-studio-film comedies. Almost all of them are weird. None of them are perfect. And I love every single one of them, for all their imperfection and weirdness.
10. Funny Ha Ha (Andrew Bujalski, 2002)
Let me just say, right up-front, that I am not a mumblecore fan. A lot of mumblecore (Hannah Takes the Stairs and The Puffy Chair, for instance) makes me want to hurt small animals. (Or, y'know, whoever made the film.) But I love Funny Ha Ha, and it's one of those films that I adore but I have no idea why. I think it's just because it's pretty much as realistic as a film can get: there's no beginning, middle, or end; plenty of conflict but no real resolution; characters who aren't black and white but actually have both good and bad sides; no overarching plot that neatly ties everyone together. I don't love it in an "I-could-watch-it-100-times-and-not-get-sick-of-it" kind of way, but it's definitely the kind of film that I can picture myself making someday.
9. Puccini For Beginners (Maria Maggenti, 2006)
This is possibly the best lesbian/bisexual-themed film I have ever seen. Basically, it's about a lesbian who starts seeing a man...and then falls in love with a girl...and dates both at the same time. The premise sounds wacky, but the subject is treated in such a calm, matter-of-fact, down-to-earth way that it ends up being absolutely hilarious. I think that might be my favorite thing about this film: the fact that it doesn't try to be funny, it just is. So many comedies lose their charm when the screenwriters try to draw attention to their own jokes--but Puccini For Beginners doesn't do that, and it works so much better. The situation speaks for itself, as do the characters. The jokes don't sound forced. Also, as a girl who identifies as pansexual, may I just say that this is probably one of my favorite representations of bisexuality, like, ever? Yes, it's used humorously, but hell, the film is a comedy; it can get away with that--it's not like this is a drama with a little "gay humor" thrown in as comic relief. (And, sadly, I have seen that happen a lot.)
8. Interstate 60 (Bob Gale, 2002)
What do you get when you combine Gary Oldman, Christopher Lloyd, James Marsden, and Bob Gale? THIS. It's probably the most studio-like film on my list (which should really tell you something, because most studio films wouldn't get away with half the things this film does). It plays out like Alice in Wonderland--a series of vignettes carefully tied together under an umbrella story arc. There's some weird, out-there stuff, some less out-there stuff, some cute stuff, and some just plain hilarious stuff. I really wish I could go into greater detail, but that would involve giving away some of the best jokes in the movie. In addition, the dialogue in this film is kickass--and as an aspiring screenwriter, I am a HUGE sucker for good dialogue. Submitted for your consideration: 1) "You make Mike Tyson sound like an Oxford graduate!" 2) "Then it hit me. They needed a character witness. I needed a witness who was a character." 3) "As I say, messing with people's heads can be a lot of fun. You should try it." Do you need anymore incentive to see this movie? I didn't think so.
7. Jimmy and Judy (Randall Rubin & Jon Schroder, 2006)
A friend of mine basically kidnapped me and made me watch this movie...and I am so thankful that he did. This movie is Experimental, with a captial E--and I absolutely love it. Basically, the whole premise of the film is that this kid, Jimmy, walks around with his video camera, capturing his life on film (much to the frustration of those around him). Think Paranormal Activity minus the horror element...well, actually, that depends on your definition of horror. Actually, no...if this were to go into any conventional genre, it would probably be crime. Murder? Check. Fugitives? Present and accounted for. Prostitution? Yep, that too. Drug pushers? Of course! And yet in spite of all this, you can't possibly view this as a crime or action film. You just have to see it to understand it. But be prepared to cry--or at least want to cry--at the end.
6. Mysterious Skin (Gregg Araki, 2004)
This film is probably the hardest-to-watch on my list...but it's well worth it, in my opinion. Where do I begin? Right, plot: The film follows two teenage boys, one of them a gay prostitute who views his early-life abuse at the hands of his baseball coach as his sexual awakening; the other a timid introvert who believes he was abducted by aliens at a young age. What the hell could these two possibly have in common? You wouldn't believe me if I told you. You'd just have to see it. But let me tell you, right now, that this film is not for the faint-hearted. Araki does not spare the audience any detail when it comes to the sex scenes, particularly the mouth-drying, heart-stopping sexual abuse scenes between the young boy and his coach. The first time I saw this film, there were scenes that I skipped entirely because I just couldn't watch (I was fifteen at the time). But the film is beautifully shot and edited, and the casting is nothing short of brilliant. If you think you can handle it--watch it.
5. Paranoid Park (Gus Van Sant, 2007)
And now we're moving into the top five, yay! And of course, there must be at least one Gus Van Sant film in this list, so here's the first: The story of a young skateboarder who winds up in one of the most gut-wrenching situations a teenage boy could possibly get into--and he can't tell anyone about it. Not his parents, not his girlfriend, not his best friend, and certainly not the detective who questions him about the incident. So, what does he do? Exactly what I would do: He writes about it. And that, right there, is what I love about Gus Van Sant. He's like a modern-day filmmaker version of John Knowles: he can portray teenage boys in his films more realistically than any Hollywood filmmaker, but his boys aren't just accessible to other boys, they're emotionally accessible to girls. So few storytellers can accomplish that--I know I can't--but Van Sant pulls it off. And not just once in one of his films, either. All his characters, in all his films, get to the audience this way. Every. Freaking. Time. And Paranoid Park is no exception. I saw this film at a relatively innocent age--in fact, it was among the first indie films I watched--but I had no trouble understanding Alex (the protagonist). And if you watch this film, you'll understand just how wild that is.
4. Juno (Jason Reitman, 2007)
I know, I know...I'm a cliche, I'm well aware of that. But damn it, I love this movie. I've heard so many criticisms of the dialogue, with people saying "real teenagers don't talk like that." Um, hi, real teenager here, who LOVED the dialogue because guess the hell what? We DO talk like that. The oddball hipster/outcast/weird people/misfits-by-choice do, anyway. Anyone who thinks that kids Juno's age can't have witty discourses (or say things like "I think I'm losing my faith in humanity") has clearly never spent time around high-school artists. But anyway, I love this movie, for both the dialogue and just the general plot. I love it because every time you think it's going somewhere, it takes you in a completely new direction--and that is the kind of movie that I hope to make someday.
3. Brick (Rian Johnson, 2005)
Oh lord, where do I start? Well, how about the fact that Rian Johnson wrote, directed, and raised the money for this film on his own? Because I have to say, I have a hell of a lot of admiration for ANYONE who can do that, but for a first-time director...wow. And this film is absolutely brilliantly written, let me tell you--do you have any idea how difficult it is to write an entire film in hard-boiled detective slang? Or any slang which one does not typically use in day-to-day life? I know I'd have a hard time with that--I had to translate one of my scenes into film noir slang once, and it did not turn out well. But Johnson managed to do it without any of the film sounding forced, and I love him for that. The film is a mystery, and it's the kind where there's no clear-cut villain. You have to watch it three or four times, with subtitles, to understand it. But once you do, it's well-worth the effort. You'll fall in love with the flawlessly-mixed worlds--it's like someone took the language and customs of the 1940s and dropped them into a modern high school. In other words: one of those films that feels as if it were made just for me.
2. Finding Bliss (Julie Davis, 2009)
Remember how I said Brick felt like it was made just for me? Well, multiply that statement by 400, and you have Finding Bliss. I feel like Julie Davis freaking read my mind when she made this film. Why, you ask? Well...Finding Bliss is about a young filmmaker who is very awkward with men, but great with her craft. She graduates top of her class, wins an award from a professional filmmaker, and then...ends up getting a job as a porn editor because she can't get a break after she's done with college. Now, I'm not saying this predestined to happen to me--editing porn because I can't get a proper film job, I mean--but my God, I can sympathize with this girl so much. 1) She's awkward with romantic relationships, 2) She loves film, and 3) She just can't get a damn break with her filmmaking. SHE IS ME, DAMN IT. This film just struck a chord with me--and again, that is the kind of movie I love, and that is the kind of movie I want to make: the kind that people can instantly identify with.
1. Elephant (Gus Van Sant, 2003)
This is it, folks. The Film That Started It All. I saw this spine-chilling, Columbine-inspired movie for the first time when I was fourteen and I will never, ever forget my initial reaction: For the first three-fourths of the film, I sat quiet and calm, just watching, just taking it in, but acknowledging the little chill of foreboding at the deceptively normal school day. Then, towards the end, a character is shot in the back by one of the gun-toting "protagonists" (and I use that term as loosely as possible)--and I knew it was going to happen about thirty seconds before it did, and even before it happened, I covered my face and cried like a child. I couldn't watch the man get shot in the back. I couldn't do it. And I'd cried at movies before (which should not come as a shock to anyone), but this was different. This was like watching a documentary. And at the time, I'd never seen a film like that before, and it absolutely blew me away.
What I really love about Elephant is that it does not spoon-feed the audience in any way, shape, or form. Gus Van Sant lets you find things out as they happen, instead of foreshadowing or giving you a huge tip-off (Oh, look, imagery of a gun, this must mean shooting will happen later). It's not like you don't know where the film is going from the beginning--if you're at all familiar with the background of the film, or with Columbine in general, you know exactly where it's going--but you don't know how it's going to play out, or how it's going to end. But as I said, there's no heavy-handed emotion. It's not like Interstate 60, where everything is specifically planned to evoke emotional reactions, whether the emotion is positive or negative. Much of Elephant was improvised by the actors. It's more like Jimmy and Judy, where the camera is just there. It's not meant to be "a movie." It's meant to be a look into someone's life...and, yes, that someone (or those someones) is fictional, but that doesn't make the film any less jarring.
Independent cinema is not wannabe-hipster fodder. It's not something to be mocked. I'm not saying that some of the parodies of indie films aren't hilarious; some of them are. But I hate it when directors are portrayed in movies as these uptight, idiotic people who scream "CUT!" like they're crying for help and whine about their "creative vision" not being fulfilled by their overpaid, divalike actors. Most of the actors I've been lucky enough to work with are totally down-to-earth, easygoing people--and guess what? Us filmmakers aren't so hard to get along with either. In fact, we HAVE to be down-to-earth. We HAVE to be able to laugh at ourselves. When something goes wrong on-set, we don't get to do what movies portray us as doing--that is, stand there, throw our clipboards into the air, and wail about how our vision is too complex for anyone else to understand. We have to grit our teeth and solve the damn problem. This is especially true for independent filmmakers--not that our studio counterparts don't have their share of problems, but when you're working on a tight schedule, with tight space and an even tighter budget, you tend to run up against a bit more trouble than when you basically have a Disney license to shoot wherever and however you want.
So, I guess where I'm going with this is...don't make fun of independent cinema, and please don't make fun of directors. We're not all evil. And God knows we don't all wear berets, carry megaphones, and sit in those bloody pretentious chairs with our names on the back. Really. We don't. We're just trying to accomplish what the people who made the movies in the above list accomplished: We are trying to make something that touches someone. That's all we're trying to do.
"We're all trying to articulate something that's pure to us."~Benjamin Busch
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