The sad ballad of filmmaker Phil
I'd like to introduce you to Phil.
Phil is what you’d call a “traditionalist” indie filmmaker.
In other words, he does things the way they’ve always been done. By the book.
Out of school, Phil’s first order of business is to get started on his debut feature.
It’s a drama with a few comedic twists, inspired by Fargo. Phil’s been working on the script for years, and it’s a story he cares about.
Phil sets his sights set high. He wants to raise 750K for the film, and really do it right.
After all, this thing is going to be his big break.
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Phil’s first order of business is to raise money for the film.
First, he connects with some local investors. No one seems keen to invest, though, despite his rosy revenue projections.
He even takes a swing at the ol’ “talk to doctors and dentists” approach, trying to get them excited about participating in show biz. No dice.
No worries, though.
Phil takes his project to Kickstarter.
He even lowers the budget to $125K, and the campaign's goal to $50K, so it’s more of a sure bet.
30 grueling days later, Phil’s got just over $7K in donations, mostly from his parents, friends, and one random uncle.
The campaign fails, and he gets none of it.
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But Phil knows he has to make this movie, come hell or high water.
It’s all he’s wanted to do since he was a kid, making shorts on his dad’s camcorder.
So he rewrites the script to be easier to produce.
He slashes the budget further.
And commits to finance it himself on his bartending tips and a few credit cards.
He knows it’s a sketchy proposition. But after hearing about how his idols like Robert Rodriguez and Tarantino made their first films, he feels confident.
If he can just get this film made, and do a decent job, it’ll lead to his big break.
And besides, he’d never be able to live with himself if he gave up.
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So he gets some friends together, uses some old gear, and makes a film.
Luckily, Phil knows what he’s doing behind the camera, and can really stretch a dollar.
Production goes smoothly. He gets solid performances, plenty of coverage, and the dailies look rad.
After 8 months of non-stop work, he’s locked picture and sound, and is ready for primetime.
Even better, the film is legit good. Not perfect, of course, but he’s damn proud of it.
After the rough start, Phil’s spirits are high. He feels like he’s got a fighting chance.
Now the real fun begins.
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As a traditionalist, Phil sets his sights on the festival circuit.
Of course, he submits to all the big players first—Sundance, South by, Toronto, etc.
5 months later. Rejection. All across the board.
Still, Phil is undeterred.
He puts together a hefty spreadsheet of mid-tier and niche festivals, and throws a few hundred dollars more on the ol’ credit card in submission fees.
At first, more rejections. But then, acceptance! Just one at first, then another, and another.
Within two months, Phil’s got 12 festivals lined up, and a world premiere at the Denver Film Festival.
Not too shabby, he thinks to himself.
Phil packs his nicest shirt, buys a plane ticket to Denver, grabs a hotel room for a couple nights. All on the credit card, of course.
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The premiere is one of the best nights of Phil’s life.
The crowd loves the film, he does an animated Q&A, and the after party is pure delight.
He meets new filmmakers, an agent or two, and plenty of fans.
He even chats with a distribution rep who dug the film. It wasn’t a good fit for their company, but still, Phil is stoked. Someone in the distro business liked his movie.
It feels like progress.
Still, despite a night he’ll never forget, and some new friends, Phil returns home with nothing to show, business-wise.
The cycle repeats at 3 more mid-tier festivals. It’s a great experience, and he does get a few stray offers.
But Phil knows enough to spot super predatory distro deals. He’s no dummy, and he knows his film is worth more. So he holds out.
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It’s been 11 months since he premiered the film, and Phil is getting a bit restless.
But winter is in full swing, so he packs his bags again and heads to AFM in Santa Monica.
The passes aren’t cheap, nor are the hotel rooms. But he’s hellbent on selling this film.
This time, Phil’s all business. He's meeting with legit distributors and sales agents left and right.
Most are friendly, and they dig his trailer when he shows it. It reminds them of Fargo, they say, which makes Phil smile.
But when asked about the potential of a deal, they all say the same thing.
“We just can’t sell a drama like this without any names attached.”
He also hears that you’ve gotta make genre films to have any shot at micro-budget success. Horror’s especially hot at the moment, he’s told.
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A handful of his meetings show promise. But no immediate offers come out of them.
He leaves, feeling dejected. Broken.
In the weeks following AFM, however, Phil opens his email to find an offer.
10 years. Global rights. No money up front.
But it’s a fair split, with relatively low cap on expenses.
When he calls the distributor, they sound excited, and confident they'll do good business with this project, which puts him at ease.
But they also make it clear that Phil’s going to be doing a bulk of the marketing himself.
It’s not ideal, but it’s better than all the other deals that came his way.
If nothing else, Phil figures he’ll at least be able to recoup the budget and pay down the credit cards.
Phil signs his film over.
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In the coming months, Phil’s film shows up on all sorts of major platforms.
It’s on iTunes, Amazon, Tubi, the works. He’s thrilled.
He feels like he’s finally made it, seeing his film up on these platforms, right next to the big dogs.
And he’s enthusiastic to spread the word.
At first, he posts a bunch on social media, shares it in numerous filmmaking groups, and gets on a podcast or two.
He emails a bunch of indie film review sites, and though most ignore him, Phil gets a handful of nice reviews.
But after a few weeks, Phil notices no one seems to be interacting with his social posts anymore. It feels like he’s shouting into the void.
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Phil decides to get serious with his marketing.
He’s been hearing about facebook ads for years now, so he takes the plunge.
It starts with a few bucks, then a few hundred—on the credit card, of course.
Phil has no idea if these efforts are working, however. He won’t see any reports, or money, for at least another quarter.
But people are interacting with his ads, and clicking through to Amazon. He feels a twinge of hope.
But when those reports finally do come, Phil nearly breaks down in tears.
Despite all that work, and despite the film grossing $18K in total revenue, he’s not seeing any of it.
The distributor expensed it all.
After being assured by his distributor this is normal for the first report, Phil gets back to marketing. Albeit halfheartedly.
But deep down, he knows something’s wrong.
After the next two quarterly reports, which came with lower revenue, all eaten up by expenses, Phil knows he’s been duped.
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All told, it’s been three years since Phil embarked on this film. He’s exhausted.
Phil hasn’t seen a dime from the project, and his credit card statements are piling up.
Luckily, along the way Phil got a job working in corporate communications.
Basically, he makes training videos and writes the occasional press release. It’s dull work. But the money’s good, and he has to pay down his debt.
Besides, this isn’t the end of Phil’s film journey. Far from it.
In his spare time, he’s writing another feature.
This one is bigger than before, written to attract A-list talent. And it’s a genre film, which the reps at AFM assured him would be far easier to sell.
Granted, his heart’s not really in the genre. But all Phil wants is to make a living with indie films.
And if this is how he’s gotta do it, so be it.
But just like his first feature, the financing isn’t coming through. And no matter how many agents he emails, he can’t get the script in front of any high-profile actors.
It’s dead end after dead end.
And it’s starting to feel like the only way this film will get made is if he takes the same route as before, funding it himself.
Five years on after embarking on this journey, he is burned out, disheartened, disillusioned.
Phil’s no closer to making a living with feature films than on the day he started.
And that’s where we’ll leave off in this story.
On the next page, we’ll look at a different path. The filmpreneur path.
Soon, you’ll meet Andre.
Til then,
-Rob “damn that was depressing” Hardy