Myths in the Making

As a storyteller my mind often grasps upon small ideas and builds worlds around them, weaving tales out of whatever twigs and straw might be laying around. This is especially applicable when it comes to raising my son, as his little mind is like a sponge and it is my job to ensure that his inner world is richly populated with history, song, color, and story. When he was first born I would often speak to him, as most parents do, in baby-talk, with a variety of nonsense words. One that I used more often than most was ‘aki-pati’, and he responded to it with smiles and grabbing my finger most of the time. One day my lady asked me what it meant, and challenged me to tell the story behind the word. What you see below is a rough draft of the story that fell from the tip of my tongue, one day to be polished and added to a growing stack of stories I will be telling him when he is older to help shape him as a compassionate and courageous human being.

“AKI-PATI AND THE SHARK GOD”

dakuwaqa

Aki-Pati was a young man who lived on a remote island in the center of a vast ocean. The waters around the island had been over-fished by the villagers of his small community, and a giant shark begun terrorizing the villagers and driving away all the rest of the sea life. The people were not only starving, but trapped on the island, for when they tried to flee in their boats the shark would attack. Aki-Pati was a brave young boy, and had looked into the shark’s eyes during one of the attacks, barely surviving as the great beast shattered their oars and nearly sank the boat. He began to have dreams about a deep wind that blew from the ocean up to the top of the mountain, pushing him along as it drove him from the coast inland. Eventually he’d had enough and one night followed the wind in his waking life through a dangerous climb to the top of the mountain. When he reached the peak the wind told him about the shark god Kaiku, and that the god was blinded by rage at the villagers for taking so much from the ocean without regard, and so was punishing them for their disrespect. The deep wind told Aki-Pati that he could calm Kaiku’s rage by making him swallow a lava rock taken from the ancient volcano on mountaintop. The boy was afraid, yet knew that if he did nothing the village would remained trapped and starve, so he did as the wind instructed. Aki-Pati descended the mountain and went alone into the ocean, his path lit by the full moon in a cloudless sky. He made the difficult swim through the surf with a lava rock in his hand and a sharp knife in the other. He cut himself three times across his chest and the swirling blood offering brought Kaiku up from the depths, his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he came. Aki-Pati dove down to meet the god and when Kaiku opened his great maw Aki-Pati plunged his hand into the shark’s mouth, making it swallow the stone. Aki-Pati’s arm was taken as the shark closed its jaws and disappeared into the dark depths. The boy struggled to remain awake as he swam to shore, and as he did the deep wind called out to the villagers to rescue him and bring bindings for his wounds. When the sun rose Kaiku’s rage had ceased, his deadly fin no longer seen lurking in the crashing waves of the surf. The fish began to return to the waters, and the great shark allowed the people harvest them once again. Aki-Pati had risked his life and sacrificed his arm to save the villagers, ease the god’s rage, and restore balance to the sea. Long after Aki-Pati had lived his life and passed on to the next world, young boys and girls who were ready to make the transition into adulthood had to wait in silence by the sea until they heard the elders beat the drums, and then would climb the mountain. Once they reached the peak the elders would tattoo a ring of shark tooth marks around their left arm, just above the elbow, to remind them the cost of taking too much from the world, and to listen when the deep wind blows.

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Confessions from the Writer/Director

This is a re-post of a “filmmaker’s confessional” that is available on the Ember Days film site. I wanted to post it here for your reading pleasure. 

 

Ember Days: A “Pagan Epic” On The Cheap

In the summer of 2010, I was riding through the misty mountains of the Olympic Peninsula with SJ Tucker. We were on our way to explore the driftwood beaches of La Push. I was already overwhelmed with the beauty of the landscape, and then the song “Come Down”, by Ginger Doss, started playing through the speakers. I found myself daydreaming-in-cinema about a group of faeries called The Wild Hunt chasing a lone warrior through these primordial forests. Then as the song continued, I started to wonder why they would chase one of their own, and it came to me that he was possessed by the spirit of a fallen angel. The song finished and our adventure continued, but the daydream images stayed in my mind. The seeds of a story had been planted, and over the next several months I articulated the story as the shooting script for the film ‘Ember Days’. I then was fortunate enough to be offered $30,000 of private financing to create the film.

For most people, $30,000 is a significant amount of money. You can do lots of things with 30K, but you might be surprised to learn how dramatically the power of that money changes when it is translated into a film production budget. (For example, 30K is basically the “toilet paper budget” of most Hollywood movies you’ve seen. Or, to think of it differently, the salary of a single crew member.) If I had made the attempt to shoot a small commercial, a music video, or perhaps a short film, employing only working professionals for the cast & crew, then the $30,000 would have been an appropriate budget. However, I wanted to make a feature film, and I wanted to make it without creative compromises (even if that meant that I’d have to make a great many technical & financial compromises). If I were to take the script to Hollywood and attempt to arrange financing through distribution & production companies, they would have rejected the project due to its complex story, presentation of a multi-layered reality, and the blending of myths from a variety of cultures. Hollywood wants “point A to point B” sorts of films, that are easy to understand in any language, and that are easy to sell through the use of buzz words, celebrity actors, and parroting existing film trends. If grindhouse action movies and teen sex comedies are IN this year, then don’t bother bringing anything that doesn’t fit perfectly into one of those two genres.

There are positive elements and negative ones when you strike out on your own to make a micro-budget film. I don’t mean “indie film” or “low budget”, since low budget films (according to the Screen Actors Guild) still have budgets ranging from $1,000,000 to $5,000,000. Most people who even attempt feature films with budgets under $250,000 (what Hollywood calls micro-budget) do not typically attempt to create myth-blending fantasy/action films like Ember Days, much less with only $30,000. They stay within the comfort zone of things like spoofs, or comedy, or single-location-thrillers. As such, I get that it was crazy for me to think that I could pull off this kind of movie on such a tremendously, laughably, abyssmally micro-budget. The truth of it is that I am a storyteller, and this was the story I needed to tell at that time, so I would have attempted to make this movie with two dollars, a flashlight, and a cellphone camera if that’s all that was available. Crazy or not, this movie was going to happen.

Enter Sherry Kirk. She was a retired non-commissioned officer (first sergeant) who had created an intentional community space called ‘Sidhehaven’ in the small town of Yelm, Washington. I had stayed there over the summer and fallen in love with the place, and we had talked at length about my filmmaking plans for Ember Days. Sherry was intrigued and offered the use of the property for the film. Let me just say it was the key reason we ever completed the shoot. The house is a 3bd/2ba building, with a cozy front porch, hot-tub, woodshop (we converted it into sleeping quarters w/cots for the more hardy cast & crew), and a canvas & wood dome dwelling called a yome. There are forests, train tracks, and even Mt. Rainier all within easy driving distance. It was perfect. Did I mention that it was called Sidhehaven? For those of you who don’t know the word ‘sidhe’ is another word for faerie, which is a big part of the Ember Days story, so I was feeling the touch of fate I think.

Because we did not have a professional grade budget for shooting a feature film, we had to do things very differently than most professional films, in fact we had to throw the “professional film” book out the window and invent our own filmmaking process. That’s what happens when you don’t have enough money to pay for a cool movie, you have to get creative and find other ways to get the story created. This film was made possible by the Washington community, primarily artists, pagans, and performers. The majority of our cast were non-professional actors who put their hearts & souls into the movie, and the few professional actors on the cast brought just as much heart to the project, as they certainly weren’t being paid professional wages. We had help from not only the local pagan & arts community, but also the Seattle Film Commission, the Thurston County Film Commission, and the City of Olympia for our locations (lots of love for the WA film commissions, who despite our tiny budget, treated us with enthusiasm and respect), and believe me we had some cool locations that we never could have afforded to just ‘rent’ on our own. This epic-on-the-cheap tells a story that spans from pristine forests to swanky condos to immaculate offices to gritty urban decay. By the gods, it even snowed on the exact shooting day in which the scene would have been made all the better for it.

Overall the experience on set was different than most ‘professional’ shoots, in that people were working on Ember Days for the love of the story and the love of making art. We crammed dozens of people into the house, the woodshop, into travel trailers, the yome, and some even stayed home and commuted to our set every day. Most people were unpaid volunteers on the project (I certainly was), and those few who were paid only received a pittance. On a professional set, everyone shows up for the paycheck. Even if they love their jobs, they’d walk off the project the first time a check bounced. On our film, people were there because they wanted to help create the story, to share in the glory of its telling, and see something truly unique enter the world.

Even though this film suffered some blows in technical quality due to its micro-micro budget (primarily audio), it is still extremely cool to know that we, as a community of people who just didn’t give a damn about the limitations, made it happen. Every single time you make a movie, you learn a tremendous amount of new stuff. And employing all I learned from the making this movie, my pagan epic on the cheap, I would totally, impossibly, do it again.

Rootless

What a journey its been. I haven’t been on my blog in awhile, so there are a goodly number of updates to be had. 

I have been in Buffalo for 2 months working as a director, producer, writer, and actor on the film “Binary Samurai” with Aaron Kondziela, Alex McBryde, and Katy Saul. A post-apocalypse cyberpunk film about wasteland warriors, hackers, and a ghost in the machine. It was hot, muggy, and pretty darn uncomfortable in my character’s huge fur coat, but we survived. There should be  a trailer and promo photos up soon. 

After wrapping, in fact the day after wrapping, we got on the road and went to Toronto for the Festival of Fear. It was a brutal show, with no money, very little sleep, and a ton of pressure to make sales. We only pulled in about $1,200, which in the grand scheme of things isn’t a bad haul, but as we’d dropped nearly $3,000 on the show, it was tough at the time. We smuggled about 500 units back across the border, and left the rest with the always amazing Melantha Blackthorne, who is keeping the rest at her place and using them as inventory for sales generated by her own website. The unit recovery made the show much less of a blow to our finances, as we’ve still got the units (paid $1,500 for them) and the show only cost $1,500, so with our sales of $1,200 we didn’t lose too much. Plus it was lots of exposure, and sales are trickling in from all the cards and promotion we did. 

After Toronto we had one last night in Buffalo, then I was on a plane to Atlanta. While there I was able to reconnect with an old friend I hadn’t seen since college, and though I had some business planned that all fell through, so it became an unexpected and amazing week of forced vacation in a kickass city with the best of company. Not long after I hit the road again to St. Louis. 

St. Louis was a blast. We had another show, the StrowlerFest, put on by the musician SJ Tucker, which was 3 days of pagan music and being surrounded by interesting people. I had a vendor table for Dark Roast Releasing, though only ended up selling maybe 10 copies of Fable. Kay Wiley and SJ Tucker are really helping me work to establish the whole ‘mythpunk’ film genre, using their music and some other authors to help get this going. The show was cheap, so we didn’t lose much, but again, the exposure and connections more than made up for it. I was able to meet and cast Bekah Kelso for the role of Hecate of the Crossroads for my upcoming movie Ember Days (also a mythpunk movie), so its a win. 

Now I’m in Seattle in prep on Ember Days and can’t wait to see what’s next.

What is Mythpunk?

Mythpunk refers to “a subgenre of mythic fiction” in which classical folklore and faerie tales get hyperpoetic postmodern makeovers. Coined by author Catherynne M. Valente, the term describes a brand of speculative fiction which starts in folklore and myth and adds elements of postmodern fantastic techniques: urban fantasy, confessional poetry, non-linear storytelling, linguistic calisthenics, worldbuilding, and academic fantasy.

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Mythpunk