...my story is not about me.
You see, my existence has been, by and large, charmed. I haven’t known the toll of systemic disenfranchisement. I’m wholly unfamiliar with the strains of abject poverty. I even had a girlfriend in high school, which if you’d seen me in high school, you’d know that meant I was as charmed as heck.
Yet I have discovered, in my limited number of years on this marvelous marble, that there are others, from the uber-wealthy to the destitute, who have lived great stories and these stories deserve to be heard with open ears. I want to witness, record, and retell these stories so they hook the hearers and make them listen, respond, and react. I want to entertain – with an objective.
For me the goal of filmmaking is more than lighting up marquees. Filmmaking is not a passive enterprise, but one that confronts. This is not to say every confrontational dude with a soul patch deserves to open a film festival, but storytelling should have purpose. I see the specific purpose of filmmaking, due to its multi-faceted sensual input, is to raise more questions than it answers, to challenge viewers’ preconceived notions, and either reinforce those beliefs or demolish them. Questioning beliefs is essential to sustain a thinking voting citizenry. It is no coincidence that the proliferation of cinema after World War II coincided with the beginnings of global democratization.
Empathy in film is unavoidable – there exists an inherent bias towards the characters on our screen; we convince ourselves that if they are worthy of our time and the ticket price, they must be someone to root for or someone who needs to be heard. Therefore film and television are uniquely suited to building empathetic feelings in the viewer: we see the pain of loss and anguish on Dustin Hoffman’s face in Kramer vs. Kramer, the frustration and will to destroy in Mookie’s body in Do the Right Thing, the horror and shock in Oh Dae-su’s eyes in Oldboy.
I’m attracted to films that are of their time, but also possess timeless elements that foster discussion ad infinitum: Malcolm X, Longtime Companion, 4 Months, 3 Weeks, & 2 Days. These films are a product of their day and a crisis that moved the screenwriters to add their voices to the discussion, yet even as each new year sees less war, famine, poverty, these movies, the greats, do not lose their relevance and their protagonists become more sympathetic. The racial politics, courage, redemption, and sacrifice displayed in Malcolm X, the survivor’s guilt and moral constitutions shown in Longtime Companion, the stone-faced resolution and political quagmire illustrated in 4 Months, 3 Weeks, & 2 Days . . . These are the types of images I want to create. Whether with gentle humor, raw tragedy, or subtle irony, I want my stories to connect and I want my stories to provoke thought – wherein lies my desire to continue my education in the American South. Progress has been made in my lifetime – economically, socially, and politically – but work remains, and I wish to explore injustices that still exist in this region I call my home.
End of story, I firmly believe that filmmaking is a political act and, like politics, a collaborative effort. I’ve always done my best work in collaboration with others. I often further fuel myself when others around me have similar fires under their seats. When we come together, we are better. When we share our stories, we learn. When we draw the viewer into the film, we stimulate change. This is what I want to do with filmmaking. My filmmaking. Thank you for visiting.