indie filmmaking – Way Too Indie

Inside Indie Filmmaking: Post-Production and Editing

Will von Tagen — Thu, 28 May 2015 13:26:52 +0000

We’ve wrapped. The crew has gone home. Cameras have been returned. For many it’s a big sigh of relief: we made it, we’re done, we shot a movie! Then reality sinks in. All you have is several hard drives of raw data and files; hours upon hours of material and hundreds of variations in which this can be assembled to actually create said film. The first cut is the deepest, and as you toil away at this you realize the work has really just begun.

We wrapped initial principle photography on August 18th. On September 30th I had completed my first cut of the film. Though I felt I had a good grasp on the edit/revision process from my experience on other projects as well as the script, I had no idea what was about to come my way through the post production process of Almosting It.

There is no part of production that is more important than the other, but post-production is the time when you really get to polish out the blemishes and make your film into a movie. Through editing, color grading and sound design, you will find a way to better enhance the overall sensual experience of the story you are working to tell. It’s incredible how each of these aspects of post serve to enhance the audiences’ experience, and will buy you a trust that will make the next 90 minutes of their lives more engaging and memorable.

Editing

I feel very fortunate that my time in the English program at my college broke me of the angst of having my work viewed and critiqued by others. Having spent hours in writing workshops and one-on-one sit-downs with my professors—forcing myself to embrace feedback and beatings over words I thought were good and was quickly told otherwise—I have no problem “killing my darlings” for the greater good of the overall narrative. I know how hard this is for creatives. I’ve had peers ask me how I handle it so well, and my only response is that I have grown to like it. Having been through it all, my time in an edit or critique is my own “fifty shades of red ink.” What I don’t like, is having my feelings spared. Nothing irritates me more than knowing or finding out that someone refused to speak out because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings. There can be no growth in that approach. The best thing you can do is seek and accept criticism. You don’t have to be a masochist about it, but understand the importance of the process because you will never grow without it.

Editing embodies this, and it is why it is so important to have an editor on your project. Sure, we have all spent years having to “assemble” our own material because no one else was around or we had no budget for it; but this does not make us editors. Editors don’t simply stitch together the takes of a scene to match continuity and get us from start to finish. An editor will find ways to enhance pacing, manipulate tone, bring out performances that were not initially present, and trick the eyes of the audience. They will also have the balls to tell you if something you thought worked, in fact, does not.

I learned more in the 11 days spent in the editing room on Almosting It than I did on the pre-production and production of the film combined. I showed up to my editor with my “assembly,” and together we stripped it down to the core, rearranged the entire work, trimmed the fat, and walked away with a completely different film—one that worked in a way I could not have imagined.

I spoke before in the article on writing that a lot of my mistakes in shooting—which were resolved in the edit—can and should be taken care of at the script level. Notions like starting the scene on the first line of dramatic dialog, not setting the scene, showing over telling, putting an emphasis on keeping scenes around the one minute-or-less mark when ever possible. I agree with what I stated, and the next script I do will reflect this—however, it took going through the editing process for me to truly understand the difference it will make later.

I think it is very important for the director to execute the first cut or assembly of their film. This will get the ballpark vision and potential of the film onto the page (or timeline). It is also a huge load off the back of the editor, who would otherwise have to rely solely on a script (heavily fractured) or storyboards (irrelevant). This will also get the director familiar with the project and workflow so he can better communicate with the editor. When Taylor asks, “is there a take where _____ happens?” I can say, “Yes, I’m pretty sure it’s around take 7 of set-up C. The notes from your script supervisor can also be very helpful here as well.

After your first assembly, let your editor do his job. They know it better then you do. And TRUST them. At this point (for me at least) you are likely so saturated by the material that it becomes difficult to have a clear perspective of it all. Remain accessible to answer questions, and certainly sit in on as many sessions as possible, but understand that there needs to be a level of trust between the two of you. Stick to your guns, sure, but know there are likely variations and decisions you wont like but are necessary.

I trust my editor wholly. Like any other skilled specialist you bring on to help you make a film worth watching, you need to know enough about their job to work together—but at the end of the day, they are the one who knows how their craft works.

Get an editor. Trust your editor. Let them help you tell your story in the best visual way possible.

Color Grading

I know a lot of other filmmakers who are not fans—and actually avoid the color grading process. I used to be one of them, before I understood that this is likely the most visually imperative cue for audience reception there is—especially if you did not shoot natively on film and are chasing a “cinematic” look.

To be clear: color grading is not the same as color correction. Color correction is simply bringing uniformity to each image—making them match one another’s Kelvin temperature to achieve true white. Color grading is manipulation of color and light to achieve a visual aesthetic.

All the recent advancement in camera sensor technology (4K, RAW, high dynamic range) has not been created to help you achieve ultimate laziness as a filmmaker by knowing you can re-frame a shot in post, or get away with less lights on set. The entire point of this technology is to give you latitude in color grading, allowing you to make use of one of the greatest tools in modern filmmaking.

If anything, with RAW and 4K it is more important than ever to have good lighting and framing, because it means anything is possible once our colorist gets his hands on the material. You can accent mood by building greater contrast ratios in your lighting. Depth can be added to a shot that was otherwise slightly flat. The color palettes you meticulously selected and built your entire set design around can now be accented to an even greater level. Most importantly, you can fine-tune it to a point that you get to really put your own unique stamp on your vision. Working together with your colorist, you can build a feel and aesthetic that no one else has ever used, tell the story more visually, and really give an added cinematic depth to the film.

“Real” movies don’t look like “real” movies because they visually mirror reality, they appear that way because it is what we have come to expect from high production. They are heightened reality. They are vibrant and full. I found a great groove with my colorist. It’s incredible the options there are, so don’t be afraid to push the limits, but understand that this is a very important part of the process, and if you skip it, you may as well have had your mom shoot the movie on her phone (which you might have to do on the next one because your cinematographer will never forgive you if his images are presented to the world flat and colorless).

Sound Design

Post-production does a lot to fill in gaps that help build audience trust. “Sound isn’t that important,” said nobody ever! The only problem is that a lot of folks only follow that advice during production—which is a good start, because good sound begins at the source—but as we all know, good sound is only appreciated when it is no longer present.

A lot can be said in silence. More can be said through what fills the silence. A breeze. Distant cities or suburban life at work. A sound designer will find a way to make both your spoken and unspoken interactions resonate and carry weight within the scene. The addition of scoring and Foley will obviously add to the equation as well.

This is another example of an area where I don’t know need to know how to do the work, as long as I trust my sound designer to work his magic. Which I do. I understand the significance and have learned a lot thus far, but mostly look forward to sitting back and supervising the final mixes before we master all the tracks, knowing my sound designer has already done his job.

Post-production for me has been a very weird process. It requires extreme specialization from individuals, and a great deal of trust that they understand their craft better than I do. It’s sort of the final let-go before you regroup once more for the final assembly and exhibition. It’s the last coat of paint, the taper before the big competition. Here, a film can be saved, lost, enhanced or marginalized. Fatigue has set in on everyone, but the end is so near that there is no choice but to be excited for what will come.

Each step and each day yields a better and cleaner product, and when the final track is finally laid—and the last layer of color has been applied—you know what you have is what will forever be your film, and will be seen and heard as is. Unless you’re George Lucas, and decide twenty years later that everything was wrong. Good luck, and keep plugging away. It can all only get better and better from this point on.

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Inside Indie Filmmaking: Production

Will von Tagen — Thu, 21 May 2015 13:45:08 +0000

I’m not entirely sure what I can say about production that hasn’t already been said in hundreds of other articles throughout the web. For me, the most important thing to keep in mind is sheer flexibility—staying mindful of your end goals as well as the restrictions and actualizations of “doing it.” Rolling with the punches is key, as is looking ahead and calculating what might be an upcoming issue. If you did your due diligence in pre-production with hiring your crew, you shouldn’t have to worry too much about problems in the functionality of set operations. Just keep a finger on the pulse and stay prepared should a problem arise; otherwise just focus on the larger picture.

Rather than a step-by-step description of our production, I’m going to share a few vignettes that best represent the sort of problems, solutions and decisions that were a part of making the film.

SCENE 26. INT. SCHOOL – NIGHT

Around the twenty-minute mark of the film, the protagonist, Ralph, and his friend attend a speed dating event at a local elementary school. It is during this scene—though she is not a part of the dating event—that Ralph meets the love interest, Quinn. Initially the scene was written with Quinn (who works as a caterer) working inside for the event.

This night ended up being one of those shoots I was warned about, with a slew of extras needing to be wrangled and more setups than initially expected. We decided to film the “meeting” of the two towards the end of the night. To this day I am not sure what was off, but nothing seemed to work—which was unfortunate because our art department did a great job building the set. We ran into multiple issues with our 180. Geographically the space felt weird, and to get the coverage we needed we had to cheat open to the camera more than felt natural. Performances were off. Lights flickered. The extras were a distraction. I should have called it, but needed the scene, so I didn’t.

After reviewing the dailies, it was obvious the recorded product was just as bad as it had been in my mind. I knew it had to be re-shot, but there was no way we could get the location or extras back, which was likely okay since that was part of the problem. I poured over the script and found a scene that was scheduled for the following day, and decided that we could do without it. I called up my AD and told her we would cut the scene, rewrite the “Quinn Meeting,” and film it outside the school, adjusting the script to allow it to work. We made it happen and had a company move late in the day to accommodate.

It ended up being a very smart move on our end. Though the set might not have been as large, it added a lot to the production value to change the scenery. The scene also worked better having the two characters meet away from the rest of the group. Everyone relaxed, and the end product was a fantastic replacement scene. Never let scheduling inhibit your decision-making process. If your gut is telling you something, follow it and make it happen. I only wish I had made the call before we wasted several hours on a scene we didn’t use, but the lesson was learned: if a scene does not feel right, STOP and figure out a new plan.

SCENE 76 A-C VARIOUS – DAY a.k.a. “Mystery Day”

This batch of scenes that I created in the middle of production became known by the crew as mystery day. A couple of weeks into filming it became apparent to me that we weren’t showing enough of Ralph and Quinn’s relationship outside of her apartment. Everything else we knew was more or less from other people discussing it in other scenes. Again, this time looking at the schedule, I found a day filled with scenes at a single location that—in a pinch—I knew I could live without. They were good scenes, but really did nothing to drive the narrative. I decided to cut all the scenes that day in favor of spending the day shooting new material with Ralph and Quinn to better show their relationship.

I caught a lot of flack from several folks on this decision. My co-producer was worried that the actors we had lined up that day would be upset that their scenes were being cut. The actors WERE mad. My AD was irritated by the scheduling changes. The location’s manager was upset that he had to cancel on the original location, as well as find new ones at the last minute. The art department was upset that we only had two days to figure out what the set design might look like for three different locations in one day.

Before I wrote the scenes, to expedite the process, I decided on the locations: a wine shop, an outdoor café, and a yoga studio. I had no clue what the scenes would be about, what would be said, or why the characters would be there when I selected these scenes, and they weren’t written until late the night before—hence, “mystery day.”

All three scenes turned out great. And while it would have been better to have planned things before, we did ourselves a huge favor by allowing ourselves flexibility. The scenes we ended up with helped the flow and pacing of the film immensely—and as all three were conducted as stand-alones we had a great deal of freedom in the edit room to place them wherever the scenes were needed to help the narrative advance.

Never let the unpopularity of a decision stop you from following through on it. Trust the gut; it got you this far. Even my AD now admits “mystery day” was one of her favorite days on the shoot.

SCENE 1 – WEDDING – DAY

The scene was initially written to take place at a farmland venue. As the original opening scene of the film (now fifth scene after editing), we wanted to start things off with a bang. We (I) wanted extras, a band, lovely decorations, vast space. Fortunately, we scheduled the wedding later in the shoot, a solid week after the epic “Gala” scene I discussed in an earlier article. Big lessons were learned the night of the gala with regards to filling space, wrangling extras and managing multiple set-ups. We survived Gala night, and the next morning I called my AD and said we should reconsider the large venue we had lined up for the wedding scene. She wholeheartedly agreed.

We ended up taking the show to a very easy-to-secure location: the backyard of my parents’ house, where my sister and cousin both held their wedding receptions. Not only was it a much easier to manage location—being significantly smaller—but it also allowed us a great deal of freedom to set up, block and plan ahead of time. Having grown up there, I knew exactly where the light would be at what part of the day, so the abundance of trees—which also added a lot of depth, production value and free set-dress—were not expected to be an issue with regards to blocking light or casting shadows. When in doubt, always go with a location you know you can control.

The point of these short narratives is flexibility, as I’ve stated several times. After good communication, flexibility is probably the most important on-set skill you can have. Always know there are other options, and regardless of the decision being popular or not, never be afraid to make a call if something doesn’t feel right.

I could go on for days about other issues that arose during principle: crew vehicles being towed, scheduling and location conflicts, blocking and lighting issues, fire alarms, spending hours in a cold pool for a 45-second scene because you anticipated your camera mobility incorrectly. The point is, as long as you are willing, able and ready to deal with these issues, in the end they are nothing more than good stories to talk about later on down the road. Take things as they come, and understand that the film you make is likely the one you were meant to make. Besides, everything will likely change in the edit room anyway! Good luck and happy shooting.

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Inside Indie Filmmaking: Development and Pre-Production

Will von Tagen — Thu, 14 May 2015 17:44:08 +0000

Development and pre-production. I know for many of my peers this is the most dreaded and dreadful phase of the process: having to sit, plan, and assess all the variables before the “fun” can begin. I’ve actually grown to love these parts of the process. Making films is chaotic and messy; and for me, pre-production is the only time I have complete control over everything—including the pace. Sure, momentum is key, but learn to love this phase of production, because it is the last chance you’ll have to catch your breath before the next several months line up to take turns beating you to a pulp. The quality of work you do now will dictate just how well you can take the impending beatings.

I’ll try and keep this as focused as possible. Like all of the topics I’ve discussed up to this point, I could talk about pre-production endlessly–but don’t worry, I won’t do that to you.

Legal and Contracts

You should have your legal support in place at this point—since you needed them to help in the fundraising process. While there are contract templates all over the web (and most of them should work just fine for your production with regards to location releases and background talent) if your end goal is sales and distribution, be sure you have your ass covered.

Most importantly—and I cannot stress this enough—do not begin any official work with any crew without a contract signed and in place. It’s to protect you as well as the person you are dealing with. If they are working for you and working on production, a gentleman’s agreement will not be enough. Make it official.

I fired a number of people on my show. I wasn’t popular for it, but it was necessary for the overall integrity of the project, and to protect what my investors had put their money towards. One individual was a producer I brought on very early in the process—before I was even set up to have a contract prepared. After four weeks, I decided it wasn’t working out and removed them. Though we never had a signed contract, we had discussed terms and made a verbal agreement. After I fired them, I offered to pay out the amount discussed up to that point, acting as though a contract had been in place.

The individual decided that wasn’t good enough, and demanded $15,000 in compensation for their time. I refused, and was eventually taken to small claims court over what was initially a much smaller amount, and ended up paying more than what was originally agreed on. It got pretty ridiculous—I even received several offers to appear on a number of court TV shows, including the honorable Judge Judy—but we eventually settled the matter in our county court 6 months later.

If you don’t have the official contract papers, at least put everything in writing. Protect yourself, and keep things transparent.

Here are a few elements I did not have in place in my original cast and crew contracts that I will make sure I have in all future contracts:

A termination clause.
A ‘no-compete’ clause for larger talent (within a reasonable span of time).
Appearance and promotion agreements.
Obligatory task stipulations and terms for above-the-line crew through the entire duration of production.

Wisdom I am happy to pass on. Don’t be unreasonable, that’s why unions exist, but protect yourself and your crew.

Crewing up

This may be geographically dependent, but only in regards to experience and abundance. In Boise, Idaho, my options were obviously going to be a lot different than in LA, Seattle, or Austin. Regardless of where you are, do not hire someone just because of their work or reputation—get to know them on a personal level. This is a relationship you will need to maintain for several months and in varying degrees of stress and turmoil. The number one thing to consider: Is this someone you COMMUNICATE well with? I said it before—filmmaking is nothing more than a giant exercise in communication. It doesn’t matter how much money you have, how great of a script you wrote, or how many times you have seen The Godfather. If communication fails among your crew, everything will go to hell. Fast.

For me, the four most crucial roles in terms of set operation and overall execution are the director, assistant director, production designer, and cinematographer. If all four of these department heads are grooving and in good synchronization, you are going to have one hell of a shoot. Every time I had an issue with a scene or set-up, or needed to decide about blocking and execution, there was never a decision made without all four of us working it out together—even if it meant sending the rest of the crew to break or an early lunch. (Avoid wasting other people’s time or cluttering your decision-making process by trying to work things out in front of the crowd.)

Allow each department head to manage their own department and you will have nothing to worry about. Approach your crew-hiring process with the focus of these department heads functioning as a solid unit—not as individual elements. Make sure you all COMMUNICATE well as a team.

Oh, and spend the money for a good script supervisor. I love you, Lisa!

Locations

I learned a lot about cinematography and scene structure through location scouting with my DP. A location may look really great through your eyes, or have the ‘character’ you pictured, but that does not mean it will photograph well or be a good place to assemble a G&E crew. Once you have your DP onboard, include them in all your decision-making processes about locations from the start. Again, also include your production designer and AD. If a set is un-dressable, un-lightable, or un-accessible, you aren’t going to achieve the cinematic depth needed to have it look, you know, cinematic.

Here is where negotiating will save you big. (Take this approach to all elements of your pre-pro). Never approach a location or deal asking for a favor. Take the stance that you are doing them the favor by being there. As with investors, be respectful, and when the deal goes through, be eternally grateful. In the approach, let them know the film is being made regardless, but you would love to have them be a part of it all. If it isn’t meant to be, it isn’t meant to be; there are other options for you. (If you have a name talent attached, now is the time to start dropping that bomb. Again, people like having something to be excited about.) The only locations we had to pay for were city owned properties.

Script Breakdown

Not that you’ll have a locked script at this point—or possibly ever—but it will be close enough that you’ll be able to get the basic elements squared away. You should go through this three times: once with your art director, once with your AD, and once by yourself to know where you all stand.

Do an art direction breakdown. This goes beyond the typical necessities of wardrobe pieces, props and basic set-dress elements. Identify the sub-elements, and the moments in the script where character arch begins to impact the visual aesthetic of the film. Of course, for that to happen you need to identify the initial aesthetics: color palette, subtle wardrobe cues, and other telling visual details.

In the beginning of my film, Almosting It, the protagonist and his friend live in a world of red and brown. His place of work, a retirement home, is filled with yellow and green. Quinn, the love interest, dominates her realm with blues. As Ralph, the protagonist, begins to fall for the girl, his palette shifts from red to blue. (This moment is literally depicted with a scene of red balloons being released into the blue sky). At the climax of the film, when big decisions are made and conflict resolved, Ralph’s wardrobe is white and grey.

Identify not only what is needed with the art direction, but where in the story these elements need to subtly shift.

Breakdown with the AD. This is the more technical breakdown. Scheduling: What/who needs to be where/when. A well seasoned AD will have this covered, and you are mostly present to answer practical questions, not creative.

Your own break down: It’s just good practice so you can confidently answer any question.

Shot-lists and Storyboards

I’ll be honest, I’m probably not the person to take advice from on this one. This is another area where it works for me, but likely no one else. I’m sure in another year or so—after I’ve done a few more films on a larger level—I’ll travel back in time to this moment and tell myself to “shut the hell up,” but for now this is how I feel.

I don’t really believe in shot lists or storyboards. I do them to force myself to think about each scene ahead of time, and to keep my AD happy, but I eventually go into every setup knowing all the boards and lists will get thrown out the window. It’s inevitable, and has always proven to be the case. You show up, get set, then immediately realize what you planned for isn’t right or isn’t going to work. Accept it. Be ready to think on your feet. Be sure you get coverage, but the shot list you had in mind is now worthless.

This turned out to be the case on the biggest scene of the film. I wrote a typically outlandish Will von Tagen-scene. The kind my DP makes me swear I will never write again, but always do. It was the climax. It involved boats, multiple cameras, difficult re-sets, tracking gimbal shots, stunts, a duck—it was as if I watched The Making of Jaws and thought, “Oh hey! That looks like a good idea!”

We meticulously planned it out. Blocked it. Prepared for every thing. When we showed up to shoot, the second boat we planned to use for half of our shots was inoperable. We only had enough wardrobe for two re-sets. The second camera wasn’t calibrated. The location wasn’t aware of the stunt work we had planned. Other than our on-land camera positions and basic action, all our prep was next to worthless. We no longer had a shot list for the day.

Your Cinematographer/Director Relationship

What’s more important than shot lists and storyboards is establishing a shooting style with your cinematographer. Established aesthetics are what will carry you through in the end. I knew I wanted long-take scenes that could potentially play out in just the master take. I wanted interesting and interactive blocking. I knew I wanted as much natural light usage as possible. We had limited means to move the camera, so we had to come up with ways to engage the actors. If both the actors and camera weren’t movable, we move the environment instead (hence shooting on boats). These are the conversations we had ahead of time as opposed to planning a shot list for each scene.

We both knew the look we wanted, what we had to work with, and how our locations would help or hinder this aesthetic. When a planned shot didn’t work, we had enough awareness of our assets that we were able to figure things out on the spot, and still stay consistent with the ‘look’ we planned out.

Discuss your lens option. We only used three different lens sizes on this shoot, and almost lived exclusively on one.

The 35mm was our number-one go-to. All our master-takes and establishing scenes were done on this lens. Even a good deal of coverage. It just worked.

We used our 50mm sparingly for basic, typical coverage.

The 85mm was brought out only when we really wanted to make a moment stick.

That was it. We realized early the 35mm was our guy, and we ran with it. Supplemental light was used to build depth in a scene where it was needed, or add contrast to evoke emotional response—largely subliminally and without drawing attention to itself because that’s what good lighting is supposed to accomplish.

Again, I feel I would be doing a disservice to recommend this style, and maybe one day I will feel opposed to what I have just said. This is how I work for the moment, and it works well for me. I think endlessly on blocking and how I want my shots to feel, but I know that on the day, I need to know I can work with whatever limitations or spur-of-the-moment ideas present themselves on set.

Post Pre-Production

There are infinite areas I could continue to discuss, but a process spread out over months is difficult to break down. The most useful thing you can do is learn to negotiate and think on your feet. Learn to protect and cover both your ass and assets. Know your script, even if it will likely change another 20 times before you are done. Have an idea of what is required to visually show your character arcs and transitions, and be aware of any set or resource limitations.

Most importantly, build a good team of people you trust. In the end, they will make sure you all come out with something to be proud of. Finally, learn to love the process. As much as things will change between now and final cut, this is where the seeds are planted—and without a sturdy foundation, even the most gorgeous house will collapse in the fury of the storm. (Or when communication fails. Did I mention communication is important?) Have fun and take a deep breath—it’s the last one you’ll get for several months.

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The Creative Patricide of Robert Downey Jr: The Superhero Son of an Independent Prince

Nathan Rabin — Fri, 08 May 2015 13:31:19 +0000

If Robert Downey Sr. were more famous and his progeny less well-known, the “Junior” in Robert Downey Jr. would take on a much greater significance. It would become less a mark that he comes from an interesting family and become more like the “Junior” in Frank Sinatra Junior: a curse delivered at birth to ensure that the son will neither usurp the father professionally nor challenge his esteemed place in the show-business firmament.

I would consider Robert Downey Sr. a great man and a great artist, but he was blessed and cursed to live his professional life in the margins; first, as one of the great innovators of early independent experimental film, and then as an increasingly irrelevant commercial filmmaker—reduced to churning out garbage like The Gong Show Movie for his buddy Chuck Barris.

Recently, Criterion released a box set of Downey Sr.’s early experimental films, as well as Putney Swope, the outrageous ad-world satire that represented Downey Sr.’s creative and commercial breakthrough and semi-famously inspired Louis C.K. to become a filmmaker. The films included in the set are so personal and intimate that they sometimes feel more like home movies than proper films.

In a sense, they are home movies: lively improvised slices of life prominently featuring the filmmaker’s family, particularly his actress wife Susan. These are fascinating sociological documents of how New York looked in the 1960s and how New Yorkers behaved enlivened by an anarchic comic spark that presages the tiny comic revolutions of National Lampoon and Saturday Night Live (where Robert Sr.’s brother James worked and continues to work for decades) and Woody Allen’s golden age.

This is the upside to the world that Robert Downey Jr. was born into: he was a beautiful, androgynous child whose family name might not have meant anything to outsiders, but marked him as countercultural royalty to the right people. He was a little prince raised by bohemian parents who left him a complicated legacy.

Robert Downey Jr. as Charles Spencer Chaplin in Chaplin

Downey Sr. introduced his little prince to both acting and marijuana at a very early age. While the notion of pot as a gateway drug seems increasingly ridiculous, it does not seem coincidental that a child introduced to drugs by his father would go on to become the world’s most famous junkie.

For years, Downey Jr. had the strange misfortune to be our most famous drug addict; a man riddled by demons so intense and so severe that he was as famous for being a drug addict as he was for being one of the most talented and charismatic actors of his generation. So when Robert Downey Jr. famously and, to be brutally honest, factually, told Entertainment Weekly that he wouldn’t make a 500,000 dollar indie movie after a blockbuster, there was a whole lot more at play than the aging Downey Jr.’s concern for the comforts and ease of studio movies.

I have no doubt that Downey Jr. loves his father. He was one of the guests at a tribute to him in LA not too long ago (along with Downey Sr. super-fan Paul Thomas Anderson), but his father left him a violently contradictory legacy. Downey Jr. grew up on independent film sets, or what would be sets if his father didn’t prefer just shooting on the streets without a permit. So for Downey Jr., independent films are more than just an option post-blockbuster. They’re a massive part of a past that contains incredible triumphs but also incredible pain rooted in the drugs that were a bond between a brilliant, troubled son and his brilliant, troubled father.

Press tours have a way of bringing out the worst in actors by subjecting them to the same asinine questions over and over again and making them feel like mercenaries out shilling their wares to whatever outlet is interested. So when Downey Jr. told Entertainment Weekly Radio that he’s reluctant to plunge into the world of independent film again because, in his estimation,
“they’re exhausting and sometimes they suck and then you just go, ‘What was I thinking?” part of me suspects he was channeling the sneering bluntness of Tony Stark.

Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark in Iron Man

That’s what makes Downey Jr’s casting as Tony Stark/Iron Man so inspired. They’re both paradoxically men of almost superhuman resilience and strength who are paradoxically defined by their intense vulnerability. And, if that fifty million dollar paycheck and robot suit can make a man who has been through many a hell of his own devising, feel stronger and less vulnerable, than it’s understandable why he might prefer playing superheroes to the kinds of misfits bumming around the fringes you tend to find at Sundance.

And, to give Downey Jr. credit, a lot of independent films are terrible. The idea that a film’s budget and tone and production paradigm makes it inherently worthwhile and the product of artists is insulting to the great independent films that do overcome tremendous obstacles to become a lasting piece of art. If we pretend that every independent film is a scruffy triumph like Winter’s Bone then we greatly undervalue that particular film’s enormous value.

I’d like to imagine that if another script like A Scanner Darkly were to come to Downey Jr. he would not toss it in the circular file because the set lacked an impressive craft services budget. I do not blame Downey Jr. for not wanting to be James Toback’s alter-ego in a series of self-indulgent indies that seem to exist solely to satisfy Toback’s massive ego.

Robert Downey Jr. as James Barris in A Scanner Darkly

As to Birdman director Alejandro González Iñárritu’s argument that superhero films represent “cultural genocide,” well, I would argue that Iron Man 3 as an achievement towers over Birdman, Academy Award or not. Pop culture isn’t innately trash any more than independent films are innately high art.

It’s safe to say that Downey Jr. has spent more time on independent movie sets than almost any writer who has interviewed him, and knows of their joys and agonies better than just about anyone. These films are not just a world he knows well, they were the spaces that created and distorted him, and where he has honed his idiosyncratic gifts. And, if this man who has survived so much, wants to leave these worlds, at least temporarily, in his past, I, for one, cannot blame him.