..Gary Dretzka
..Noah Forrest
..Leonard Klady
..R.J. Matson
..David Poland
..Douglas Pratt
..Ray Pride
..Michael Wilmington

Rules of the Game … And How to Break Them

It's a hard knock life and nothing is quite as miserable as making movies. I've long ago forgotten the person that made the observation that no matter how seemingly terrible a movie might be, the people instrumental for getting it on the screen deserve special credit and consideration. Getting it made and distributed is no mean feat.

Still, at some point the largesse must end and critical scrutiny (not to mention commercial realities) becomes the yardstick.

There are no easy short cuts to getting a film made. Well, perhaps having more gold than Midas smoothes the path considerably. It will also give one considerable access to screens. Still, one has to be skeptical that anyone can be induced to see a hypothetical production and no amount of cash can make one in his heart of hearts embrace something intrinsically repugnant.

A number of years back a well known film distributor received a golden parachute when his company was acquired by a major. The settlement bankrolled his dream to direct a movie. I never saw it but friends that did were kind enough to say that the finished film had "problems" but wasn't it great that he was able to realize his goal. He wound up four walling a couple of theaters and after a brief run the distributor resumed his career.

There's not a year that goes by in which hundreds of millions are committed to the production of motion pictures by people who simply want to be in the film business. These sugar daddies and mommies generally have no prior relationship to the industry and with rare exception enter into the process with scant understanding or appreciation of how films are developed, produced and processed. Because so many fly under the radar, it's impossible to quantify how many so-called vanity productions are actually completed or receive even a home town premiere. However, no one needs to be told how few turn out well enough to attract the interest of acquisitions execs and wind up playing at the local multiplex. There are never more than a handful that beat the odds and in some years the number that fits the description is zero.

Statistically speaking, one has a better chance of breaking the bank at Monte Carlo than making a good film independently. Nonetheless the dream of creating one of those tiny pieces of time is ferocious and all consuming. There's precious little one can do to give oneself an edge but innumerable pitfalls to avoid.

The nature of the daunting challenge and the release by IDP of Passionada brought all this to mind. And the poster boy for flying in the face of these impossible obstacles has to be that film's director Dan Ireland. Bankrolled by David Bakalar, a successful businessman and movie fan, Passionada began from a story idea set in the Massachusetts fishing village of the financier's youth. But more on that later.

My friendship with Dan Ireland goes back decades to an era when he ran the Seattle Film Festival with Darryl MacDonald. His passion for film earned him the respect and trust of countless filmmakers and critics and the equivalent of the Oscar from the Dutch film industry for introducing Americans to its movies and talent. It also led to a tenure at the ill-fated Vestron Pictures where he was the exec in charge of numerous potboilers as well as films by Ken Russell and John Huston's final foray The Dead.

Bernard Rose (Ireland was exec producer of Paperhouse and has a cameo in Rose's Ivans.xtc) summed it up best when he said, "Everyone loses Dan." I suspect that may be a tad over the top but cannot think of anyone who has a cross word to say about Ireland.

Following the demise of Vestron, Ireland put out his shingle as a producer with ties to the indie company Cineville. That gig resulted in the receipt of an unusual manuscript about the platonic and doomed relationship between a Texas schoolteacher and writer Robert E. Howard, creator of such pulp fiction heroes as Conan the Barbarian. It was a blind submission by pupils of the real life teacher with a hankering to make a movie. There was even a screenplay of sorts that Ireland recalls as being 180 pages of dialogue between the two characters mostly set in a car.

"I knew nothing about Howard or the era (the 1930s) but there was something about the story and characters that I found compelling," says Ireland. "I felt it was my job to beat up on these people and get them by whatever means necessary to turn this radio play into a movie."

The process from start to release would stretch out for close to five years. At the point where he felt the script was ready to be seen, he began to suggest it be sent to such A-list filmmakers as Bruce Beresford. But the people involved insisted they wanted Ireland, who had zero experience directing, to take the reins. He also had a series of strikes against starting from his background in the executive ranks and escalating to the fact that he wasn't a twentysomething film school grad or an award-winning maker of music videos.

"It's hard to explain but looking back I'd have to say they didn't know any better and probably didn't want someone new coming in and beating them up all over again," Ireland notes. "Still, I gave myself a lot of outs. I told them that if my attachment as director posed any problem in raising money or attracting talent that we had to get someone with credits. I just didn't think about it, I thought it was a nice gesture and not going to happen."

The money for what would become The Whole Wide World trickled in and Ireland managed to convince Vincent D'Onofrio to play Howard. He also cast an up and comer fresh from Texas named Renee Zellweger. He insists that his intention was never to direct and would have never segued into the field had the opportunity not been thrust upon him. He recalls his first day on the set as the most terrifying time in his life - worse than winding up in hospital with what was initially diagnosed as a life threatening disease. However, the terror quickly passed as the necessity to make decisions and keep to schedule overtook everything else. He just took to it, perhaps all those years on sets had sunk in by osmosis. Though he can't point to specifics he learned from watching other directors, Ireland says he wanted his set to have the calm and precision he recalled from working with Huston.

There was also a mounting sense of showing up all the nay sayers. The project was tagged with the demeaning short hand of being a Lifetime movie. He showed a rough cut to an admittedly biased Seattle crowd and was stunned and pleased to be invited to Sundance. Before it even screened at Park City, he was courted by agencies and, on reflection, feels he took on representation too quickly. He also has regrets about his second feature The Velocity of Gary not so much for reasons of choice but in his inability to protect himself and the material. The bond company made demands dictated by the distributor and he found himself with few supporters to withstand reshaping the material into a form that would not work artistically or for an audience.

"It turned into a nightmare. It was so horrible, I just didn't want to work again," he says. However, the niceties of putting food on the table and paying bills eventually convinced him to tell his agents to find him a directing assignment.

Passionada, like The Whole Wide World, was material that required work but had a core idea he found appealing. He liked the fact its love story was about second chances and that the setting had such intriguing elements as gambling casinos and Fado music of Portugal. Ireland was nonetheless ready to pass when a friend and fellow director read him the riot act about giving up work. He reminded him that part of the job was to solve and fix problems and he credits that advice with re-energizing his passion for the project and the work.

Still, he was on a breakneck schedule and ultimately ran out of prep time. When the cameras began to roll, he was working with a script that required more work and fixes.

"There are certain things that are virtually impossible to correct once filming begins."

However, his first dilemma would come from something not related to the script. By the second day of filming he realized that the actor he had cast in the lead was not going to deliver the performance required to make the material work. Ireland sidesteps specifics but another actor in the film said the performer in question had a serious drinking problem. Firing talent, particularly actors, is at the top of most directors' painful jobs list in part because it reflects poorly on their judgment. Ireland realized it had to be done quickly before the cost of re-shooting became prohibitive. There was also no guarantee that he'd be able to find a new actor quickly.

He realized he was gambling with the entire production. Nonetheless he went to his chief backer and attempted to explain the situation clearly, precisely and with all its ramifications.

"Independent movies usually don't have budgets that allow for any leeway," Ireland observes. "You make mistakes and you live with them or the film suffers for them. David (Bakalar) just wanted to make the best possible movie and had the resources to take the risk. But you don't go to someone like that unless what you're asking for is really necessary."

The filmmaker also cannot dismiss the element of luck. In recasting with Jason Isaac - best known for his villainous role in The Patriot - he found someone that understood the role and was able to not just act but collaborate. He was also hungry for a part that showed his versatility.

Still, when Ireland showed the film in rough cut in Seattle in May the problems he recognized in the script were all too apparent on the screen. Once again he returned to Bakalar with a request to film new scenes.

"It's a very complicated story with a lot of characters," he says. "In trying to tell all the different stories, we lost sight of the core. You have to have that. It's something you can't cheat."

Ireland is naturally disappointed that the film opened to soft business but will not belabor its performance with excuses about timing, marketing or competition. He's secure that the film works for an audience and, though he avoids reading reviews ("friends will tell you the good and the bad"), knows it's been warmly received in industry circles. He's uncertain what he will do next as his project The Beauty of Jane has been postponed until he can attach an actress for the title role.

There's no question that financially Ireland would be well advised to make the crossover and do films for the studios. His trio of pictures demonstrates a keen eye for acting talent whether he's working with relative novices or allowing a seasoned performer a new challenge. He also has an astute visual sense and knows how to make the most of a story, even when saddled with an awkward script. He could also remain in the more rigorously demanding alternative universe that, with the exception of Alan Rudoph and John Sayles, few filmmakers have managed to sustain for a career. But regardless of those choices people like Dan Ireland are an encouragement because they wind up making their own rules.

- by Leonard Klady