Movie making in 48 hours
It could be called extreme filmmaking. The assignment: write and produce a four- to seven-minute-long movie in a single weekend.
The idea originated with two friends in Washington, Mark Ruppert and Liz Langston, who wanted to provide an outlet for creative people to harness the power of digital-video technology. Mr. Ruppert had seen the 24-Hour Plays in New York, and the two hoped to translate that idea to film. So in 2001 they began the first 48 Hour Film Project, which invited teams of people to make a movie in a supercompressed timeframe. To spice things up, all the films would include three specific elements: a single line of dialogue, a particular character, and a prop. Finally, each film receives a screening and a "Best of Show" is announced.
From six cities in 2002, the project has expanded to 30 cities in the United States and overseas, including London and Sheffield in England, and Brisbane, Australia. Word of mouth continues to build, attracting neophytes and pros alike as cameras and editing software become less expensive.
"The technology levels the playing field for people. It doesn't take money, it takes vision," says Ms. Langston.
Last month, the 48 Hour Film Project returned to its Washington roots. Seventy teams signed on, including No Snoring Productions, Oozing Sarcasm, and The Procrastinators - which showed up late for the opening session - and I See London, I See France, which decided to take the challenge for a second year.
These pages follow the latter team from conception to the delivery of their comic movie.
Representatives from each of the 70 teams wait expectantly at the Warehouse Theater, where each will draw a paper out of a hat with the name of a film genre written on it. This is to ensure no one gets a head start.
Matt Botwin of I See London leans against the back wall talking with Martyn Green of Poolboy Productions. Their voices join the nervous chatter. Like kids waiting in line for a roller coaster, a mix of dread and excitement courses through them. Once each team has drawn, they will be given the three required elements. The groups can reject their initial draw for a wild-card selection. The challenge for everyone is to turn in the work by 7:30 p.m. Sunday. If they are late, their film will be screened but won't be eligible for top awards.
This is Mr. Botwin's second project with girlfriend and executive producer Jennifer Prediger. Last year they delivered their film at 7:25 p.m., and they know every minute counts. Despite the stress of the 2004 project, they decided to sign up again. "It created sense of community and gave us something to laugh and giggle about for months," Ms. Prediger says.
Botwin clutches his cellphone, and waits to call Prediger and Jim Jones, the film's director and CEO of iKoya, a Virginia film production company, at the team's headquarters - dubbed Underpants Central - when he knows their assignment.
A hush falls over the crowd as 48 Hour Film Project executive producers Langston and Ruppert step up to the microphone. "Welcome to the Washington, D.C., 48 Hour Film Project," Ruppert says.
The film styles pulled from the hat first are mystery, romance, and mockumentary, which the recipients yell out. Botwin snares science fiction. It is not one of the team's top choices. For such a film to be good, it takes technical skills the team doesn't have. He reaches for his cellphone. "What do you think?" he asks. "I think we should go for the wild card. You're sure? OK," he says.
Tension builds as he joins more than 10 others who are taking the wild card. Langston opens an envelope and slowly turns the paper around. Botwin shakes his head and chuckles at his misfortune. "This is the worst possible choice. Is there any way I can trade?" he pleads with Langston. But the draw is final. He calls Prediger. "You're not going to believe this, but the wild card is 'Silent Film.' "
