What is the current project you are working on?
The current project I’m working on is called Mating Dome, the story about an everyday Joe living in the super sexual utopia of the 22nd Century where people go to a mating dome, walk around through neon lit corridors wearing only futuristic towels and flash one another to decide whether or not they’d like to “get a room” with each other. The script was written by my good friend and actor in the bulk of my films, Joe Whelski, and I’ll be taking on the roles of director and picture editor on this short comedic film.
How do you handle rejection?
With a bottle of red! Not really, no. As a poet primarily and having been submitting my work to magazines and literary journals for over fifteen years, I learned early on that for every 100 rejections, you might get one or two acceptances. I used to do all the cliché things writers are supposed to do with rejection slips (plastering an entire wall with them comes to mind most) but honestly, that can get too darn depressing. So I tore ‘em all down one day and noticed that on the back of a New Yorker rejection slip––by that time my fourth from the prestigious magazine––the editor had written on the back of it “These aren’t quite right, but I look forward to others.” That was the boost I needed to keep submitting, keep trying to break in. Now when I make a submission, I know that eventually all of the poems will be accepted somewhere, and that helps me to sleep at night and keep paying for the submission costs.
With film and screenwriting, however, rejection’s a bit different for me. The one thing I like about having your screenplay rejected by a studio or agency (and, granted, I don’t submit screenplays as often as my poetry, but when I do, the rejections are epic!), I always receive helpful and constructive criticism. On the flipside, film festival rejections are the most generic there are, and I wish they would cut to the chase instead of leading in with the same old line (“This year we’ve received a record number of submissions...”) I guess because I’ve gotten so accustomed to rejection, I only see the important words, “unfortunately” or “congratulations!”. But what I’ve learned is that with rejection comes eventual acceptance, and there’ll always be a festival that wants your work, just like there’ll always be a poetry journal that likes what a poet has to say, and a studio that will want to see your work lighting up a big screen somewhere, especially in this day and age. That alone makes rejection a bit easier to digest.
Did you always want to be a filmmaker?
Actually, I never dreamed of being a filmmaker. In a lot of ways, I don’t consider myself a filmmaker in its most proper sense. I don’t make films with any intention of one day making money from it, or even getting my work seen by influencers at Sundance, Tribeca or Hollywood. I simply make films when writing a poem won’t suffice because a deeper story needs to be told.
What inspired you to become filmmaker?
What inspired me towards filmmaking was the fact that I wasn’t happy with the finished product of a film that my best friend Alain Aguilar and I made together. It was our first attempt at filmmaking (he was the filmmaker, I was the writer) called Cog, and it was based on an anti-corporate ode I wrote back in my early days of college. It was my first script, and I was proud of it. However, after I saw the final edit, I wasn’t happy with it and thought that I could have done a better job with the edit. So from that moment on, whenever I write something, I make sure to direct and edit it so that I have full control over the finished product. Ironically enough, however, the final edit seldom resembles the final draft, but I’m always happy with the end result due to the intense amount of collaboration that goes on not during the writing or the editing, but through the production itself. Admittedly, I don’t think exceptionally fast on my feet, hence why I’m a writer first and foremost; I therefore rely on the DP (always Alain), the actors, and all the other creative people around me while shooting to make my vision come about in its fullest form…and then some!
What is the best thing about being one?
For me, the best part of being a filmmaker is having a finished product that is a more fleshed out version of what had lived in your head for a long time that you can now share with others and get a message relayed that otherwise might have slept on a page and never touched the hearts of an audience.
What is the worst thing about being one?
Producing is the worst thing for me, which is why I don’t produce my own projects anymore. The older I get, the less and less I care to focus on any aspect of filmmaking that is non-creative (granted, there is creativity in producing, for sure, but not my kind of creativity.) I know, I know…I’ve heard the mantra before “it’s show business!” But as I mentioned earlier, I’m not a filmmaker to break into the industry and start a career for myself; it’s just another form of expression (an expensive one, albeit, but a rewarding one, too!)
What is the estimated number of projects you have worked on?
I’ve worked on probably about ten or so projects altogether over the last ten years. Most of them are mine––Cunnigula, a short script turned feature-length film that I don’t really mention much due to its risqué subject matter, The Coconut, The Hotel Edwards, which marks my first attempt at co-writing and only attempt at co-directing––never do that one again!), Perfekt, Speed Musing and Cerise––but I’ve also worked on two commercial pieces that yielded no real satisfaction but a paycheck, and a sitcom pilot called Something About Ryan, which won four awards at four film festivals. I also DPed on a short film called The Welcoming, written and directed by my good friend Louis Affortunato.
Who is your favorite filmmaker?
My favorite filmmaker has got to be Krzysztof Kieslowski. I’m a foreign film buff, so of course I dig the films of Fellini and Bergman, some of Godard’s work. But Kieslowski is not as well known but definitely just as on point with the big wigs of neo realism and French New Wave cinema. My favorite film of his is White (from his Trois Colours Trilogy).
How has your life changed since you became a filmmaker?
Though you wouldn’t think so by following my tweets and reading my Facebook status updates, but for the majority of my life I’ve been pretty much a solitary person. In high school I hung out with the headbangers, a motley assortment of long-haireds with motorcycle jackets in a school overrun by hip hop culture. By college I took to hanging out with the freaks and theater geeks, but I was always the quiet one, even in those circles, keeping my face buried in my journal. Since I became a filmmaker––actually, since I’d started acting and directing theatrical productions for the Hudson Shakespeare Company back in the late ‘90s––I realized that as an actor you have to be open to discussion, to learning from your director and fellow actors in order to become a better actor, or a more adept director, and ultimately a stronger and more sensitive individual. The poet in me kept me quiet and introspective, but the actor in me––and eventually the filmmaker––brought out the avid socialite in me, now always yearning to discover something new about myself and about everyone else I keep company with in the real world or through social networking.
What is one piece of advice you can give to someone who also wants to make it in the movie business?
I don’t know what it means to “make it in the movie business,” but I can say for sure that a person should focus all of his or her attention on the story being told, and if possible, make sure that person is in love with that story. If not, scratch it and move on to another one. Filmmaking isn’t like writing a poem; you’ll be living with that footage for a lot longer!
What do you like to do besides filmmaking?
Poetry’s my first and truest love––loved it enough to get an MFA in it! But I also enjoy strumming my guitar, reading French poetry, watching foreign and classic Hollywood films, drinking lots of coffee, lounging around at a street café, teaching humanities and, in particular, world mythology (I almost got a Ph.D in Mythological Studies, but at the last minute I decided to make Perfekt). I also enjoy Taoism and Buddhism, beatnik culture and literature, quiet bars and lounges where I can sip a charming Malbec or other red wine across from an open journal or some fine after dinner conversation, an occasional glass of absinthe, and comic books––mostly silver age stuff, but I’m addicted to Vertigo’s American Vampire series.
Have you had any other jobs before you decided to become a filmmaker?
Of course, and considering filmmaking is not a job for me, I still have jobs. I am a freelance professor (or “adjunct instructor,” as the university administrations label us) and teach everything from creative to college writing and the humanities. But long before that, I worked with my older brother selling French fries at street fairs, carnivals and flea markets from age thirteen until I’d started college and realized that I really don’t want to work this hard with my body, that I’d rather use my mind a lot more. Though I do miss how shoppers would trek all the way from Brooklyn just to get an egg cream made by “The Brooklyn Kid,” as they affectionately labeled me. Good times, but hard work.
What are some of your favorite American films? Foreign films? Television shows?
Oh boy! Some of my favorite American films include anything by Stanley Kubrick and Charlie Chaplin, The Lost Weekend and most other Billy Wilder films, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Theives’ Highway, Donnie Darko, Strangers on a Train and most other Hitchcock films, and the movie that got me started––American Beauty.
My favorite foreign films include Farewell, My Concubine, Mamma Roma, Testament to Orpheus, Yojimbo, Fellin’s 8½, and Sawdust & Tinsel.
Regarding TV, I grew up with shows like Quantum Leap, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and the golden age of sitcoms, including my favorites Family Ties, Growing Pains, and Small Wonder. My best memories of television revolve around cartoons like He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, Transformers, ThunderCats and SilverHawks. Today, however, I don’t watch any shows, mainly because I don’t have DirecTV or any other carriers––truthfully, I haven’t had a signal for over six years! I’ve tried to get into shows that friends recommend, like Californication and True Blood, but they just don’t have any substance for me. Even The Walking Dead, of which I greatly enjoyed the first two episodes, didn’t draw me in enough to rush out and get Cable.
But when I do occasionally (and mostly by accident) catch a little down time in front of a boob tube, I tune into Man v. Food or Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations, or maybe a little Cash Cab, which genuinely gives me much enjoyment.
How would you describe your film education?
My film education consists of watching movies and making them. I’ve never actually taken any film production classes, which is why I’m strictly a digital filmmaker; the last film camera I used was a Super 8 camera I used to shoot some footage of Alain and I in London back in 2001. Most of my movie watching education is due to my Dad. Once we got our first VCR back in the early ‘90s, he cut our Cable and started renting action movies from our local PathMark. My favorites back then were Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Death Warrant, and just about anything with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Steven Segal. Eventually, I moved into the realm of “narrative drama” and only now am I catching up on all the Hollywood gems starring Bogie and Cagney that my Dad had seen in theaters but had not thought to share with me. That’s really what’s been making me kick it into reverse with my own work of late; while most filmmakers today focus on the image and which camera to use, I focus on story and trust all that other filmic stuff the filmmakers I surround myself with during a project.
How would you describe the film "scene" where you live?
In Jersey City…no comment, but I’ll let you know after the First Annual Golden Door International Film Festival of Jersey City makes its debut in October. But the NYC film scene is bustling from what I hear. I’ll admit, I’m not a big part of “the scene” just yet. Of course, the Big Apple has been very kind to Cerise; my latest short film has screened at NYC Downtown Short Film Festival, NewFilmmakers NY, and New York City International Film Festival, as well as Staten Island Film Festival, where it was nominated for three awards. And those are just a few of the many festivals that showcase NYC and international talent. Again, if I were trying to “be” a filmmaker, I’d be working on a lot more projects with other filmmakers so that they might, in return, help me out with my projects. This way, I get to pick and choose the projects I work on, so as not to be forced into working on something that I’m not in love with. As I mentioned earlier, I tried a brief stint at doing film for pay, and I just really didn’t enjoy the projects and at time couldn’t wait for it to be over. That’s no way to start a career or spend a weekend, if you ask me. But through Twitter and Facebook, I’ve met so many people “in the scene” in NYC, LA and beyond, and feel as though I’m a part of something much bigger than any local scene.
How has social media changed the independent film industry?
Social media has made it possible for the ordinary artist to become an extraordinary force, at least where getting one’s work out into the world is concerned, and I think it’s only going to get better from here. If it wasn’t for social networking through Facebook, Twitter, and even simple email, I’d never have been able to crowdfund for Cerise and successfully raise the additional $5,000 I needed to make the film I wanted to make. We even went above that, ending at $6,300 by the time our deadline struck. I also think that if all filmmakers got on board with social networking and all which it encompasses, the independent scene will not only rival the traditional Hollywood model of filmmaking, but I think it has the potential, if played smartly, to overthrow it many years down the line. But that might just be my anti-establishmentarian inclinations coming back from college. I think it gives the underdog the chance he or she deserves to be an alpha dog for a change; yet at the same time it replaces the idea of the alpha dog with a most important aspect: community.
What's your opinion on crowdfunding?
I’m a huge advocate of crowdfunding! Heck, I have a blog series called The Tao of Crowdfundingwhere I offer up some tips and tactics on how to run a successful film campaign like my team and I ran for Cerise back in February of 2010. Similar to my thoughts on social media one day overwriting the traditional models of filmmaking, I think there’s a high potential for crowdfunding to be a major alternative to seeking out investors. In my “all artist, all the time” brain, I imagine a world where people freely give to projects because they believe in them, or because they want to help give a voice to the voiceless, and not because they’ll get back their investment with interest (In short, I believe in a world filled with Gavin Ap’Morrygans!)
How does independent film differ from the mainstream?
I’m a bit torn on this idea. Granted, I don’t watch as many independent films as I’d like, but I think the word “truly” needs to precede “independent” when describing the types of films people like me make, since even the “indie scene” has been overrun by the studio system (good luck getting into Sundance without a name actor or a foot in the door!) I think that a truly indie film is a film with potential. Our stories tend to be more interesting and take more risks than the mainstream, either in terms of narrative structure, visual story, or both. They’ll have problems with lighting, perhaps, and sound almost always (sound is the chimera in all my films that makes me want to drink hard liquor at Nat’s Bar!), but when you watch them, they touch you in a way that Hollywood has forgotten how to. But in a Hollywood film, you’d never lean forward to hear a bit of dialogue that was recorded too low, though you may shudder at the misuse of 3D to either advance character or move the story forward. In a nutshell, I think truly indie film has the potential to be Hollywood. One day. Soon.
You could go back in time and see any classic film being made. Which film would it be and why?
I love this question! When you asked this during my interview on Cutting Room Floor with Casey Ryan, I said that it would have to be Billy Wilder’s The Lost Weekend, and it still is. I think it’d be awesome to see how a film was made on location back then and compare it to today and see how films (and filmmakers) of the Classic Age and those of the Modern Age differ.
What's your favorite movie quote and why?
I don’t actually have a favorite movie quote (well, maybe “When you’re slapped you’ll take it and like it!” Bogie’s immortal line from The Maltese Falcon, but that can’t really be applied in an advice-giving fashion), but I do have a quote from a book that should’ve made it into the movie version: “A person has to work hard, but a minute of perfection is always worth the effort,” which is a quote from Tyler Durden in Fight Club. In Chuck Palahniuk’s novel, we are introduced to Tyler on a beach standing up some logs of different sizes in a particular shape. He then lies down in a shadowy palm created when the sun hits those logs at a specific angle. It only lasts a minute. All that work for that!? Yes! I apply this idea to everything I do, ever since my girlfriend and the marketing mind behind Cerise Marinell Montales reminded me of this quote when she’d been reading the novel, which is why now I focus on making a script work on the page as best as it can before even thinking about putting together a production team.
And, of course, perhaps the only other quote I’ve lived by my whole life is from the immortal Yoda in The Empire Strikes Back: “Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.” Enough said on this one!
What is your opinion on movie remakes and sequels?
Ugh! At least for remakes, it’s quite simply “Ugh!” Sequels, on the other hand, I can handle only if they’re warranted (and seldom are truly warranted). Great sequels for me include Back to the Future, Part II, The Empire Strikes Back, Spider-Man 2 and The Dark Knight. Remakes are something I don’t understand at all. I mean, I do understand them as a way for Hollywood to keep out the talented and aspiring filmmakers who are bringing with them original material so they can bring back old and dead content instead (Last House on the Left? Really?) And the only real reason is to instill its power on the younger generation by making A Nightmare on Elm Street hip again so they can relate to an old concept in a postmodern age. (Man, I felt so old(-school) writing all that, but truth is truth, I suppose.)
What is your opinion on book to movie adaptions?
Interestingly enough, I’m actually cool with book to movie adaptations, especially if it means skipping out on the book (modern novels, mostly). For instance, I enjoyed The Lord of the Rings trilogy when I watched it in theaters, but I just couldn’t get through the first book, never mind all three. My belief is that if it’s a movie, I’ll skip reading the book and instead read a book that won’t or can’t be made into a movie, to maximize how much media I take in (plus, I find doing both can be redundant and needlessly time consuming when you’re trying to absorb new material and push your own ideas into a lightning-paced world.
Thanks for doing the interview John. I wis you all the best with the production of "Mating Dome".
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A poet primarily, John T. Trigonis has published work in a variety of poetry and literary journals all over the world. In 2007 he was a nominee for a Pushcart Prize in Poetry. He has also self-published a number of free chapbooks, including Fifth Avenue Bomb in the Covergirl Heart, Androids with Angel Faces, Wanderland, and Warehouse City Blues.