The New Gorilla: How to Make a Feature Film for Under 25K by James Savoca: An Intimate Sit-down with (and Kick in the Ass from) One Who Knows

I really could’ve used this book.  Back when I was a young man who entertained that glimmer of a thought to be the Next Big Thing in Filmmaking.  Like Savoca, I am a lover of film; we share many of the same influences – Cassavetes, Scorsese, The French New Wave. 

Unlike Savoca, I failed to do the work necessary to make a film happen.  And that’s essentially what The New Gorilla is about:  the WORK.  Yes, the title does suggest a “bottom-line” financial approach, and Savoca does discuss the ins and outs of the business side of making your first film.  I’d argue, however, that the real message to be taken away here is simple (“keep it simple, stupid,” as he says on numerous occasions):  DO THE WORK.

Savoca himself is very much present in the book.  He is the voice in the reader’s ear, reminding him or her, again and again, to stick with it, to keep going.  I had the impression at one point that Savoca was in the room with me, encouraging me and not letting me settle for mediocrity.  In this way, The New Gorilla is intimate.  Yes, the conversation is one-way, but Savoca has been there, and he knows the questions that dog the mind of aspiring filmmakers who fight that nagging voice inside their heads. 

A play, I’m guessing, on the French word guerilla (warrior), the “Gorilla” of the title is that unstoppable force that will get this film made by doing the work and never veering from the path set out by Savoca.  The author goes to great pains never to be the distant intellectual.  His voice is real; he’s your uncle, not the Dean of the Visual Arts department at your university.  He is nudging you – not always gently.

In one interesting turn, Savoca acknowledges that filmmaking has become totally and completely democratic.  You, the reader, the prospective filmmaker, have every right – even, he suggests, the right to suck, as he defends his argument about the importance of going step by step when laying the foundations of your film.  Here, he responds to that imaginary impatient reader, who’d rather just skip the preliminary steps and jump right into writing the screenplay: 

You can just begin to write your awful script at your desk anytime you like.  I say awful because it will be complete garbage if this is the route you decide to take.

The New Gorilla is not for the faint of heart.  You’ll get no-nonsense advice like this throughout.  But if you’re someone who is serious about breaking into film in this world of sometimes confusing new media, it’s worth it.  Savoca’s experience as both a filmmaker and teacher of filmmaking give him the authority to kick his readers in the pants now and again.  He’s been through the fires and has come out with films that are uniquely his and true to his vision. 

If being able to make films that are uniquely yours, true to your vision and cost-effective is an idea that appeals to you, then this is the book for you, as they say.  Just be ready for the occasional good kick in the ass and constant reminders to do the work it takes to get there.

In Savoca’s own words, “Don’t just try.  Succeed.”  Buying The New Gorilla would be an excellent first step towards that success.  

Judd Apatow: Chronicler of . . . ME

I know it's a bit trite for a 40-something, upper middle class white man to say it, but I'm going to say it anyway:  I see myself in Judd Apatow's work.  Consistently.

And I just realized, watching a DVR'd episode of Freaks and Geeks, which the Sundance Channel thankfully shows every morning at 5 am, that I've been seeing myself in Judd Apatow's work for as long as he's been doing that work.

With Freaks and Geeks, Apatow arguably gives the most honest portrayal of high school that has ever aired on network television.  Actually, I need to be more specific.  He provides a perfect picture of high school in the late 1970's and early 80's, when I was a suburban lad, growing up on the outskirts of New York City.

The show takes place in Michigan, I believe -- a place where I also spent a portion of my adolescence.  As the title suggests, Freaks and Geeks is about cliques and the stringent social structure in high school.  Perhaps because I moved around a bit (I attended three different high schools), I was able to move from clique to clique, as well.  For a time I was a geek, and a freak, and a jock.

I remember hanging out with people who looked like the characters in Freaks and Geeks, having the kinds of conversations they so awkwardly have, about love and fitting in, wishing to be considered an adult, while simultaneously lamenting my childhood, as it faded into the distance behind me.

The series only lasted for 18 episodes, suggesting a short-sightedness that some network executive fell prey to.  I can picture him now, shaking his large head, jowls frothing, as he wonders why he didn't foresee the stardom that was in store for so many of the people involved in that little show.  He must kick himself every time a new Apatow hit comes out.

A more recent Apatow-produced hit was a kind of spin-off from his very successful 2007 film, Knocked Up, called This is 40.  My wife and I saw it on a date night, and we laughed.  A lot.  We whispered, "Oh my God, that's us!" and punched each other in the shoulders.  It was a great time, and Mr. Apatow once again proved himself the chronicler of my bourgeois, suburban life.

It leaves me wondering:  Will there be a This is 80?  I just hope I'm around to see it.  If I am, I have no doubt it will make me laugh and think, and see myself, the way both Freaks and Geeks and This is 40 have done.

My Home Town's Brush With Greatness

As I've mentioned in a previous post, Manor, where I now live, is a small town. There is a block of four store fronts, with a corrugated tin awning over the sidewalk, and an old-fashioned water tower, pictured at right.


Downtown Manor has always evoked a strong feeling in me; I'm not sure why. Recently, however, I've come to learn that they filmed "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" (directed by Lasse Hallstrom, 1993) here, and suddenly that feeling makes a lot more sense.


I watched the movie the summer after its release, on DVD, or probably VHS, at a rented house in Big Indian, New York, in 1994. It was a summer of healing, as I was coming off of a divorce, as were a couple of my friends at the time. I spent most of my healing time drinking and doing other things to "self-medicate," as they say. Generally, it was a lot of fun. A good distraction -- "just what the doctor ordered."


I fell in love with the film, because it has all the aspects of films I tend to enjoy: quirky characters, a strong sense of place, and no guns or loud explosions. The director's previous film, "My Life as a Dog," is one of my favorites, so when I heard it was the same director, I was excited to see "Gilbert Grape". Leonardo DiCaprio, who was basically an unknown at the time, was unbelievable in the role of Arnie. Johnny Depp was, as usual, strong in the title role. Good supporting performances by Juliette Lewis, John C. Reilly, Mary Steenburgen, and Crispin Glover. And Darlene Cates, the 500+-pound non-actress they recruited to play Gilbert and Arnie's mother managed to steal the movie from all these name actors.


As the film came to its climax, and Arnie faced a harsh realization (I won't say more, in case you haven't seen it; and by the way, you really should), I lost it. I didn't just cry. I didn't just bawl. I didn't just weep. My emotions exploded out of me, and I was lucky to have my good friend, Susan Dreyer (who has always said she wants to write a piece about that Big Indian summer called "Bridesmaid to a Divorce") there to pat me on the back and remind me that everything was going to be all right in due time.


Since learning that the movie was filmed here where I live, I have been giddy. I smile as I pass the iconic silver-painted water tower (pictured, above) that Arnie climbed up. I have plans to go look for the Grapes' house (it's out on Route 973, by the new football stadium), and, yes, I took a picture of the sidewalk in front of Manor Grocery, where Johnny Depp scrawled his initials and the date of the production, 1/93.

If I seem a bit star-struck, it's really not about that. Instead, I think it's just this odd convergence of an emotional moment in my past, and where I am living right now. Who knew, back when I watched this film in the summer of 1994, that I would eventually live in the small town that played such a large part in the lives of those characters? It's just so random. And yet somehow, deep in my core, it makes absolutely perfect sense, too.