Event Horizon

I was working at Reel Video in Berkeley when Event Horizon came out on video. I recall swarms of people asking for a copy, which naturally peaked my interest. What's so special about this film? Months later I finally got a chance to watch it. And, again, I asked myself what's so special about this film? And why did P.T. Anderson direct it? Oh wait, he didn't. Different Paul Anderson. Whew...

The point isn't to bag on a bad film but discuss my own event horizon. Maybe so I don't forget it. My journey as a filmmaker and the films I chose to produce. This entry functions more as a landmark for myself and less about others reading it. To one day look back and remember. Before my memory deteriorates, if it hasn't already (kids will do it to you).

One of my initial reasons for getting into filmmaking was wealth and prestige. See, I grew up watching a lot of PG-13 movies with the kid you hoped would get the girl (you know, Wonder Years-esque). And deep down inside I believed I could get the girl, the popular one. Like in the movies. I never did. So I turned to The Cure and Chris Isaak. Lots of self-loathing, which turned to bitterness. If I became rich and famous (cue Robin Leach) then the girls who wouldn't go out with me growing up would regret it. Super lame, huh?

I grew out of that phase and shifted into my brooding, artist period. Film for art's sake. Out with the story, the plot and conscious comprehension; in with pure emotional expression. Heavily influenced by my cinema studies in college (and the airs which came with it), I ventured into the avant garde. Creating films whose meaning emerged from the clashing of two independent images whereby the viewer is left to ponder the feelings of the piece rather than the story (italics added for snobbery). And if someone didn't get it, I became annoyed. I went from petty to pretentious.

Next came my David Lynch-phase. Having just decided to become a follower of Christ, I wanted to integrate my new belief/life into my work, fusing supernatural with reality. Christian movies felt a lot like the deus ex machina in Greek tragedy. Contrived and nothing particularly supernatural about it. Lynch, on the other hand, told stories depicting man's evil as a result supernatural forces. He infused the surreal, the bizarre, and made captivating films. Commercially successful films. Twin Peaks, his brilliant soiree into television, is about a city's dark underbelly and the horrific events stemming from it. But they weren't just the result of nature or nurture. Dark forces were at work. I concurred. I wanted to tell such stories. So I experimented with it. But after two years of exploration I found I was forcing it. It just didn't match my sensibilities.

At this point I was kind of at a loss. I had a visual style that, albeit still emerging, felt like mine. The stories, though, continued to allude me. What did I want to say? I had a knack for communicating emotions, but emotions as a result of heartbreak. There had to be more than that. I just didn't know. Then came The Dry Spell. The 'no-filmmaking' period, which, coincidentally, occurred right after I returned from my summer taking filmmaking classes at NYU. I had dreams of storming the Industry, instead I found myself asking God what happened. A lot. And for many years. Six years.

It started because I didn't I have money to produce anything (digital video was still in its infancy). It became clear, though, there was another reason I stalled. I was a single, immature, post-college grad. I knew nothing of love, struggle, or sacrifice. I didn't have anything to say. I wanted to tell stories with depth but my understandings were shallow. It's not going to stop until you wise up.

It wasn't too much later that I meet the woman I would marry. And through her, our marriage, and our family I would begin to learn. She forgave me when I had been selfish and had hurt her. She quickly learned the good, the bad, and the ugly of me and chose to love me everyday.

This part is harder than I expected. Everything prior was something I had thought and thought about. Not so here. This is new to me. How did the Lord transform me in this time? What kind of journey did I go through? I just looked and saw I wrote the word 'ugly'. Something about it caught my attention. My ugliness. Paul understood grace because he also understood his ugliness. He knew how much it took to make his life into something beautiful. I don't think I got that before marriage.

I also didn't 'get' doing something for someone else's benefit. Foreign. Making films started as something for me. I would be famous. I would have money. I would be happy. I would be in control. That was my model. My father was the dad from Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle". But my Heavenly Father sent His only Son, Jesus, who came not to be served but to serve, and to die. Marriage and family taught me to the joy and hardship of serving. Fighting the urge to withdrawal. A battle I sometimes won and sometimes lost. Honestly, it's been a struggle. I often wonder if I'm balancing the two. I tend to lean towards the dissenting opinion. If I give this career the attention it needs then it seems I'm not giving enough to my loved ones. If I give family the attention it needs then my to-do list for film only grows. No one's happy, and I'm stuck in the middle.

As I write this I'm reminded of how my early stories developed. I would have these dilemmas and wanted answers. So I journaled about them. Prayed about them. Sat with the Lord and waited to hear. And when answers started to flow, and they always did, so, too, did a story. I think I need to wrestle with this situation and see what emerges. Maybe it'll influence what's happening these days.

A new phase has begun in my life, The Return. Filmmaking is back in my life full swing. It's not a daydream or a hobby. It's my day job. And doors are beginning to open. First was the creation of Radiologie, a production company started by myself and Jerry Yoon. Next came a breakfast with Ned Kopp, a Bay Area film legend, which led to the honor of having him first AD my latest short film. And now I think he's my mentor. Two weeks ago I was able to sit with Ralph Winter, producer of X-Men. He talked about what he does as a producer, he shared some of his wisdom (and behind-the-scenes stories from Star Trek II, III, and IV -- so cool), talked about how he has done family and film, and he watched my short film and gave me feedback! Then last week I met with a man who connects filmmakers with investors. Yes, people with money who want to give to people who need it.

I don't know exactly where all these moments are taking me but I feel like I'm getting closer and closer to where I've dreamed of being. And I'm loving it. But to make sure I don't become Icarus and lose myself or family in the pursuit, here's my song: