Lunchtime

Patrick at the Rockhammar Tennis Court

Patrick (Self Portrait)

JUSFC

At the end of this week the JUSFC will make their decision on the grant. They will notify us by mail, so I've got Lesley waiting at the Film School to forward the letter to me. I won't be so cruel to ask her to open it and read it to me over the phone. But, the letter will go first to the film school, then to Karin's house, then here. So, I reckon it will take a week or two to get into my hands. After that, we can make some clear decisions about what's going to happen with the film. It would be great if I could just win the lottery. But, I suppose I'd have to play to win.

How can I illustrate the tedium of Mark's work without making it actually tedious to watch? So many phone calls-they are on the phone constantly. How do they do it?

I woke up with a terrible headache today. There's no pain killer here, so I had to suffer through for 4 hours. I guess it's what people in the olden times had to do. Or, as Vonda reminds me, what pregnant women have to do. Patrick says it's because I'm exhausted, but sometimes I don't feel like I'm working hard enough. "If I just worked harder," I say to myself, "things would become clear." But, that's not really true. I have to work smarter.

Tokyo Cowboys is a modern day Western set on the post-modern urban frontier...following a group of Western men as they search for freedom of expression...as they reinvent themselves...what was my other definition of "frontier"? The limit of knowledge and achievement. That's it...yes. They are pushing themselves to the limits of achievement. Why? Because opportunity is all around them. Success stories are all around them. They see endless possibilities. So this makes them work harder because anything is possible...they've seen people achieve the impossible. It keeps the cowboys spirit alive no matter the adversity. I've been wondering what keeps them there, and this is it...unlimited possibilities...endless opportunity.

Isseki, ni chou-literally translated as one stone, two birds...meaning to kill two birds with one stone. Don't know why I thought of that.

Cutting Mark

We started cutting Mark today. Because of my long relationship with him, it's really difficult to be objective. I try to break it down, pick him apart, but it's all so confusing. If I were to give him a name, he would be a "disciplined hedonist" if there is such a thing. He's definitely a hedonist, but he has this disciplined quality about him from the Marine Corps. Just trying to work out his story arc is proving to be challenging. It's going to take a bit of precision.

Day Off

Took the day off. Karin and Goren came to Rockhammar to drive us into town to shop for food. We had a relaxing time torturing Karin, as you can see here.

These pics were taken on my mobile phone. We used the phone when we shot "Daybreak" (working title). It got damaged in the rain storm shot, so it looks like there's a soft filter on everything. I kind of like it.

Postcard

Dear Tokyo:

I want you to know that I'm no expert. That's not what I'm telling people. I'm just going with my gut...just trying to figure out some things. I see things...pieces of the puzzle. But I'm not so vain to think that I can put the whole thing together and make some sense out of it. There is no sense to be made. There are only stories to tell. Take from them what you want. You can only ride one of those bullet trains into the rising sun and hope for the best. I hope that you are in a good mood today.

Postcard

Dear Tokyo:

Gaijin always talk about rules...there are too many rules. But I believe that you have to know the rules so that you can break them creatively. That's when the fun begins. That's where the freedom comes from. If you creatively and gently break the rules, you can affect change...good change. The key is to not get too big for your britches. I see Gaijin filled with hubris. It's best to do things gently.

Postcard

Dear Tokyo:

It has been two years since I've breathed you in. I want to touch you, smell you, eat you. I recognize every little thing about you...and no thing. The surface is always shifting...a city of illusions, smoke and mirrors.

Coming back here is like falling back into a dream...it's utterly familiar, yet everything concrete slips through my fingers like water, like light.

Did you pine for me? Did you think about me everyday I was away? Are you happy to have me back?

Postcard

Dear Ken:

I just can't figure out what you want. Every time I talk to you, your story changes. Man, are you so inconsistent? Or, is this maybe the process? Am I witnessing your process of reinvention?

Do you believe in universal truth with a capital ìTî? I don't think you do. So you have to find your own truths. You have to write your own story. And I will bear witness to your story. Can you maybe even let me participate? Will you let me push you? Will you let me go with you at least for a little while?

I hope this story has a happy ending.

Story Truths

All personal blogging has been moving over to my personal blog at www.storytruths.blogspot.com.

Thanks

Sequences so Far

Patrick is still cutting furiously. He decided to work through the weekend. I've re-done the schedule to give us a few more days to cut Ken's sequences. We have the most sequences with him, and they are all just so fantastic. Ken really has that ineffable thing on camera. Here are the sequences we've cut so far:

Ken's prepares for an Audition
Aki's Announcer Class
Ken and Aki Head Hunting from Home
Ken and Aki sing Karaoke
Ken lifts weights and fields Head Hunting calls

Ken and Aki do a home Lamaze Class
Ken works the phones at Guest House (wedding sales company)
Ken marries a J-Couple
Ken and Aki have dinner with Sachi and Pappa at an Izakaya
Ken gets a hair cut, and Sachi and Aki prepare him for another audition
Ken and Aki with Aki's family in Takasaki
Ken Records a Demo Tape
Ken and Aki Bathe Taiga
Ken Quits Head Hunting (Bridge Group)
Ken shops for Aki's Christmas Present
Ken Performs "Christmas Mass"
O-Shougatsu in Takasaki
Sumo with the Coggers
Ken and Aki look for a New Flat

Reading Sheila Curran Bernard's "Documentary Storytelling for Video and Filmmakers." It's giving me some really good support. "in pursuing a goal, the protagonist learns valuable lessons about themselves and their place in the world, and those lessons change them and may, in fact, change their desire for the goal."

We definitely see Ken learning these lessons and changing because of those lessons. The most important lesson he learns, I believe, is that his family is the most important thing to him. He would sacrifice everything for the well-being of his family and for the creation of a healthy, happy family.

In my journal this morning, I was writing about how people like to impose their beliefs on other people. They think they have the "best way." But there is no best way. There are no universal truths...only those we construct for ourselves...only our mini-narratives. Our film doesn't present THE TRUTH because there is none. Only you can create your own truths. And they are just for you. That's what the Cowboys do. What Ken does is not going to work for Dave or Mark or Cloudy.

Also, people go on about how Japanese society is all about conforming. "The nail that sticks up gets hammered down." But there is something about Tokyo...this uber-city of conformity...it is here that Gaijin find freedom of expression. There are so many ways...even for the Japanese...look at the Tokyo Rockabilly Club, the Ko-Galu in Shibuya, the Goths in Harajuku, the Salarymen and women. Something about a sense of belonging. There is an innate sense of belonging to the city. You belong to her...no matter what you do. You are hers, and, in return, she gives you freedom and to express. She gives you opportunity. She invites you into her orgy of creation. That's why you can't ever get her out of your system.

I was transcribing an interview with Nice Guyjin. I asked if they ever think about leaving. "Every day," says Dave. Since leaving Tokyo in 2000, I have thought about going back nearly every day. There was not a day that went by that I didn't think of her, long for her...sometimes I feel like a forlorn lover.

Today, Patrick said "if we get the grant, we'll go back. And this time we'll stay for as long as they'll let us." That's three months. Why not? Why not edit in Tokyo? I could spend three months editing there. All we need is that effing grant. We'll know in two weeks. They make their decision on the 16th then mail out the future of our project.

Dear Marc

I am interested in mini-narratives and that's why I've chosen to do a multi-character piece, which centers around the idea of men (cowboys) escaping from their traditional modes of being and constructing new modes of being on a new frontier-a post-modern urban frontier.

Cowboys-risk takers; men who are not afraid to uproot themselves and head for parts unknown; men who long for freedom from existing constructs

Traditional Modes of Being-Judeo/Christian; Western; puritan; religious; individualistic; being the "center"

New Modes of Being-Reinvention; being the "other"; East/West mix (blurring the boundaries between);

Post-modern urban frontier-no center (marginalization); anything goes; complex infrastructure in place; complex and ancient culture; all things available

Tokyo is a unique frontier because it is an intellectual one rather than a physical one. Other frontiers like the American West, Antarctica, Space (for example) are physically hard. There is nothing there. It's dangerous and arduous. It is a unique urban frontier because literally anything is available: culture, entertainment, food, activities, drugs...anything.

The third definition of "frontier" is "the limit of knowledge and achievement." You can do, have or be anything you choose, yet the city is tolerant, safe, clean, civilized-contrast this to NYC or Bangkok. It's also complex (like a puzzle that needs to be figured out intellectually...like the language, which is also like a puzzle...extremely logical). You can reinvent yourself over and over again. You can call yourself anything and be believed (just put it on your business card). It's civilized, yet it is the frontier. It is the post-modern urban frontier...post-modern because you can construct your own little realities...your own mini-narratives...your own truths...like some kind of video game. You can invent your own past, construct a new you.

This film is about men who escape the chains of their own culture to gain freedom in a new construct-one of their own creation. Profoundly alienated from their traditional mythos, they go riding into the postmodern urban frontier where they can construct their own reality. It's about how they define freedom, how they manifest it, what they are willing to sacrifice for it and the success and failure they encounter along the way.

I went looking for modes of individual freedom of expression on the post-modern urban frontier. What I found were mini-narratives...cowboy narratives. This is the journey. But, I am not just presenting these narratives objectively for the consideration of and judgement by the audience. I am inviting them to go with me on the journey with an open mind and to discover what makes sense to them. I am trying to discover mini-truths like little nuggets of gold. Some nuggets are good for me, some are good for you.

Something about illusion...something about what you want is always right in front of you...something about how freedom requires sacrifice...living your dream requires sacrifice and we usually don't take that into account when we're just dreaming it as opposed to living it. Something about how you can become a slave to your dream until it becomes a prison. All of these themes become clear as we move through the lives of these cowboys.

More later about character.

Cutting

Patrick is still cutting about a sequence a day. I have to start skipping sequences. We’re supposed to finish with Ken by Friday, and there are 17 sequences left to cut.

Postcard

The Headhunters are really flash. They have nice cars. They have leather shoes. They are good with the ladies. Most people would say that they have it going. Do they? I investigate further. The work enslaves them with promises of one more big deal, a few more million yen. And the pressure and the monotony and the sheer boredom of making 50 to 100 phone calls a day trying to find the guy, trying to find the guy, trying to close the deal. They tell me it’s the bomb, but I see it drive them into the bars of Roppongi most every night. It drives them to drug and drink fueled conquests of girl after girl. The noise, the bars, the toys, the girls, the drink…This is not freedom, is it? But it is…it is their brand of freedom. And I have to remember that it’s not my definition of freedom I’m looking for. And there is no such thing as THE definition of freedom. There are as many as there are people.

Postcard

We took that long bus from Narita into central Tokyo…into Shinjuku. I haven’t been here in 2 years, but it feels like yesterday…like I’ve fallen back into a recurring dream. Every building, every electric wire calls to me: “You are home” they say. “Okaeri” they say. Now that I’m here, I’m not quite sure why I came back. Something about freedom, something about dreams, something about this place that’s like an illusion. I’ll figure it out. My plan is to start with the headhunters. They know everybody in this town…Japanese and Gaijin alike. They can tell me a thing or two.

Grand Narrative vs. mini-narrative

I’m thinking about “grand narrative”…something that Marc asked about. I’m interested in mini-narratives all centered around the themes of freedom, new frontier, escape...escape to the new frontier provides freedom from 1) cultural constructs…they are not bound by their own culture because it is so far away…they don’t have to play by the rules of their adopted culture. They are not expected to. 2) traditional modes of being…freedom from judgement by family, friends, society. You can pretty much do what you want within certain contraints, and even those are a bit flexible…don’t get caught, don’t involve the police, don’t make a public spectacle of yourself outside of Roppongi. There is a great deal of freedom there. But what makes Tokyo unique? Tolerant culture, ease at which you can live, reinvention.

Getting messy now. Need to think about his more and write my response to Marc.

Mom called. The wole of NOLA is being evacuated. Katrina is scheduled to hit tonorrow. The evacuation is mandetory. Mom is heading up to Alexandria with the old lady. My sister is going to Texarkana.

Watched the documentary on Bukawski on TV. The drive. And he was so prolific. He never thought he could make money off his writing. He never thought he’d be successful. But he just kept writing. He just kept sending his stuff out. That’s some kind of inspiration. Forget Van Gogh, I think he will be my new role model (sans the drinking as my little body just can’t handle that kind of abuse). But, he wrote about his life. He brought poetry back where it belonged…in the hands of the people. He said that he couldn't imagine a day without writing. It put fear into his heart. I know how he feels. I only write in the journals every day. A poem will pop out here and there. I guess it’s some kind of commitment.

What am I trying to say? Something about following your dreams. Something about sacrifice. Something about dreams and illusion and constructing your own reality. Still trying to scratch it out of my head. Tokyo is the post-modern urban frontier. A place to fulfill all of your dreams. The land of opportunity. A magical, mystical place that can solve all of your problems and give you things that you’ve only dreamed of. It can give you a different life. OK, they get there, they find this life…and maybe…no…so they’ve achieved their dreams for the most part…they are on their way. But, it’s all an illusion. Why? It’s the old “be careful what you wish for…” scenario.

Just get the story down, and everything else will follow.

I’m talking about fulfilling your dreams. What am I trying to say? I went on this journey to find a manifestation of personal freedom. I had this idea that these guys were free. I wanted to explore that. I wanted to feel the freedom…show it. So I had this idea that these guys, these headhunters were free. It was a journey to define freedom. OK, I went to Japan, I started shooting these guys whom I thought were free. Why? Because they were running rampant around the city. They were slinging cash, they were buying toys. But what did I discover? They weren’t free. They were slaves to their jobs, they were slaves to the money and the toys. But Ken…Ken…he gave it all up.

Did I go searching for the formula for personal freedom? But there is not one definition, hence the mini-narratives. I went to the post-modern urban frontier to look for freedom. What did I find? This is what I found. Many, many stories.

Information Overload

Got a good response from Marc. He asked all the right questions. More of my response once I get it down.

Trying to take a break from the transcriptions over the weekend. Doing those everyday is a bit like information overload. It’s good to take a step back and process them a bit. Transcribing is only the first step. Then there’s choosing what to capture, capturing then cutting them up. After that, I’ve got to figure out how to fit them into the whole thing. I guess I’m just assembling the puzzle pieces. That’s the first part of editing. I shouldn’t worry too much about the big picture just yet.

The Blank Pages in My Dictionary

Was walking through the forest with Patrick yesterday and we got on to the idea of letters/postcards for the voice over...the narrator voice over. We talked about post cards during the 2nd trip to Tokyo, and I've had it in the back of my mind, but I brought this idea to the forefront. I think I'm being influenced by "The Oxford Book of Letters," which is one of the books we have with us. It's funny how your subconscious will give you some big hints sometimes. Of all the books in Joe's library, I chose that one when we visited him for my birthday. I don't know why I chose it, it just called out to me.

Anyway...I haven't figured out the "voice" yet. Of course, it's the storyteller's voice, but I haven't figured out who that character is. Yes, it's me, but it's a fictionalized me...oh, you know what I mean.

Who is she writing to? (To whom is she writing?) In Sans Soleil, it's the receiver who is describing the letters. That's a bit different from actually reading the letters. But maybe this idea of writing to different people. And those are all the different voices. I was toying with the idea of using very different voices with different accents...male, female, young old. Maybe they are people who have left Japan...people the storyteller once knew in Japan. Of course, this is all fiction...a literary device. You didn't think this was a documentary, did you? But, I think that's it. They were people the storyteller knew in Japan. And this becomes clear with the postcard content. Yes, postcards instead of letters. Postcards are fragmented, dreamy, filled with fanciful thoughts. At least my post cards are.

"We just made it for the very end of cherry blossom season...Spring, rebirth...delicate pink blossoms lasting for only two weeks or so. And we sit under them and drink sake and celebrate the ephemeral nature of life. Then the winds come and blow them away stirring up such a storm of pink that you can hardly see. The Christians are also celebrating and Cloudy Bongwater was there with us in tow. We went to an old-fashioned Baptist revival in the Aoyama University Hall...7-hours long...hundreds of people singing, praying and testifying that he has risen. Even J-people witnessed. I thought it was surreal and a little bit sad. Why had they given up the pink storm for this artifice? And, to the Christians, what would Jesus do? I think he'd be down at the Bochi drinking sake with the J-people."

Can you believe that pages 21 and 24 are blank in my pocket dictionary? And Karin has brought 3 big bags of home made buns. How can I be expected to work under these effing circumstances?

Talking to Angels

Spoke to my mom last night. She listened to my editing blues and offered support. She was distracted, though. Hurricane Katrina is headed straight for New Orleans. She’s worried about getting out. She’s worried about getting my sister out, about getting the old lady out. The old lady is bed-ridden and she’s talking to angels.

I’m not confident that we’ll get to first cut before we leave Sweden. I must accept that it takes as long as it takes. Patrick is cutting one, maybe two sequences a day. That’s fast considering all of the material he has to wade through. I will have to start prioritizing.