[REPACK] Download Film A Muse (2012 Google Drive)

Rich told me about how his previous attempts at running his business, Get Baked, had failed. He wanted that to be a key part of the film. The history of the brand was confusing, as it morphed over the years, having initially started as a business that basically just delivered store-bought snacks and desserts to stoner students. As that enterprise thrived and gained massive popularity, Rich's next step was to get into the hot-food market with a burger joint offshoot of Get Baked. It wasn't long before the complexities of running this kind of business proved too taxing and intense; he'd bitten off more than he could chew (excuse the pun). The pressure caused Rich to develop terrible anxiety to the point of suffering panic attacks, so he walked away from Get Baked, the business shut down, and the whole thing faded into memory.

The edit is where things really spiraled. The hardest thing about making this film was doing it alone. I found that being the only person who knew what I had shot (and therefore what was available to go into the edit) left me with no one to consult on how best to move forward when I got stuck. I was fortunate to have many friends who watched cuts with me and made suggestions, but ultimately, as the producer/director/DP/editor, only I had the knowledge to solve the edit's problems. Often, the problems themselves were hard to identify.

Download Film A Muse (2012 Google Drive)

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As I struggled in solitude on the edit, I felt like a total fraud. I'd been cutting professionally for over a decade, so if I couldn't edit my own film, well, then, I might as well just hang it up. I could forgive errors and struggles in shooting, prepping, directing, etc. ... after all, none of those things are my forte. I'm an editor. I should be able to "fix it in post." So to be sitting there, in what is supposed to be my element, running out of ideas and feeling utterly hopeless that I'd ever figure out what was wrong and how to solve it, felt inexcusable. It was a sobering reminder that editing, even if you're good at it, is really, really hard (and reliant on competency in all the other parts of filmmaking). I wondered if I should make the film about this struggle, and be more self-referential as the filmmaker (like in Winnebago Man!). But a film about a person talking to themselves in an edit bay would not be very entertaining, interesting or relatable to most audiences.

Was I experiencing some sort of struggle by proxy from spending so much time watching Rich recount his? It felt like an episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark? where the project is bleeding into my real life, and my real psyche, and at any moment I could be sucked into the computer screen forever. Every aspect of this project from start to finish was resting on my shoulders. What if I failed at making this film? What if I failed at this MA program? This program that I turned my entire life upside down to pursue, and for which I felt like I basically put my career on the line? Because if I walked away from everything I had built in New York, and then gone to London and made a shit film, or perhaps no film at all, well, then, doesn't it prove that everything I had to begin with was the result of some horrible mistake? What if I were defined by failure?

Winnebago Man is about triumph. It's about locating someone who doesn't want to be located, and then forcing him to confront the fact that he's not all that misunderstood and actually people love him. My film was not going to be like Winnebago Man. The real struggle was coming from inside the house, not from my subject. As time was dwindling before my deadline, I wasn't confident that my film would ever see the light of day outside of the academic requirements I had to satisfy to complete my MA.

It turned out that solving this thing required shooting again. I dragged myself and all my gear back to Leeds one more time, about two weeks before the finished film was due. Dozens of editing hours later, and with heroic efforts from friends on the audio mix and color, I delivered my film. I'd love to tell you what grade I got on it, because that is how we measure success and human value in academia, but alas, I haven't gotten that metric yet. I can tell you that, despite all my fears and doubts, I decided that I put too much time, effort and painful hard work into it to just let it languish, and saw no harm in submitting it to festivals. As of now it's been accepted to two, including Leeds International Film Festival, so I guess it's not quite the atrocious failure I had feared.

A simple enough plot is made incredibly impactful due to its imaginative and patient execution. Refn, and cinematographer Newton Thomas Sigel, craft a spellbinding world where electric lights intrude on dark scenes, casting coloured glows over faces and heightening dramatic shadows. Silhouettes, side profiles and parallels are played with to great effect, as faces and forms are warped under odd lighting, and characters are strikingly framed by their urban surroundings. Certain features or details are intensely focused on, and there is an almost unbearable restraint within every scene, making any eventual action or speech far more affecting, and any violence far more horrifying. Rather than be packed with meaningless shouting and threats, the film takes its time building a dangerous atmosphere. Dialogue in scenes is sparse, but the silence never feels awkward. Instead, the viewer is treated to standout images such as our driver walking around in a quilted silk jacket, emblazoned with the image of a scorpion. Its fearless decisions such as this which make Drive such a bravely visual treat.

Michael Prupas is a 40-year veteran of the film and television industries. A former entertainment attorney, Prupas launched Muse Entertainment in 1998 and Muse Distribution International in 2000, both headquartered in Montreal.

Oneida seeks and develops exceptional scripted programming in both film and television for Canadian and international markets. Oneida actively pursues original concepts and IP and forges relationships with creative talent and network executives. She has been an associate producer on projects for OWN/Harpo, Hallmark, and Radio-Canada. Her passion for film and television extends to her volunteerism for celebrated arts organizations including Souk MTL, TIFF, RIDM, La Biennale de Montreal and MURAL Festival. Oneida graduated with a BFA Specialization in Film Studies at Concordia University and studied humanities abroad at Lund University in Sweden.

Alfred Hitchcock and Bernard Herrmann created the sound of suspense with Vertigo and Psycho. Francois Truffaut and Georges Delerue made us fail in love with the Gaelic romance of Jules and Jim and The Last Metro. John Williams and Steven Spielberg brought back the epic orchestra with Jaws and Star Wars. These are but a few of the famous director-composer collaborations that have made an audible impact on film music. But perhaps none of these pairings has produced scores that are as flat-out strange, or maybe just plain indecipherable, as those of Angelo Badalamenti and David Lynch. Then again, it would take away half the fun if you could figure out what the hell Lynch's dancing midgets, body-switching protagonists and upstate hell towns are all supposed to mean. But if you listen to Badalamenti's phantasmagoria of moody jazz, romantic dirges and unearthly synthesizer effects, you'll certainly hear the twisted soul behind such hallucinatory collaborations as Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, Blue Velvet, Lost Highway and Wild at Heart. Together, Badalamenti and Lynch seemed to have invented their own version of the film soundtrack, a musical purgatory where every kind of style and sound floats about in a beautiful state of dread, all trying to be heard at once-a soundscape that's nothing less than hypnotic.

Sure, David Lynch was pretty whacked before he met Angelo Badalamenti. The scores for Lynch's first three films showed a talent for combining melody with sound effects, as could be heard in Peter Iver's industrial backdrop to Eraserhead, John Morris' elegantly gothic Elephant Man and Toto's surreal sci-fi epic Dune. But it took Angelo Badalamenti to really let Lynch dive down the rabbit hole with his scores. It's been a dark wonderland for them both. This is excepting The Straight Story, a film so movingly normal (in most respects) that you'd think it couldn't possibly have come from them. Mulholland Drive (now available on Milan Records) is the latest, and perhaps the strangest score that Badalamenti and Lynch have created. Beginning with its Glenn Miller-esque swing dance, Badalamenti's score throws as many acid-trip left turns as Lynch's visuals do. While the film winds its way through L.A.'s boulevard of broken (and very bad) dreams, the music veers from nearly motionless string dread to noir jazz and audio feedback, the rhythms building to an explosion of infinite darkness.

Badalamenti would write his first scores under the name of Andy Badale. "You had to use a pen name, especially if you were Jewish or Italian," he remarks. Now with such diverse scores as Cousins, Parents, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, Holy Smoke, The Beach and The City of Lost Children under his belt, Andy is proud to be known as Angelo Badalamenti, a composer who's done his time and can call the shots. But it's probably his work for David Lynch that has produced Badalamenti's most remarkable work, a film noir sound that became wildly popular when it was heard on Lynchs television show Twin Peaks. As Mulholland Drive continues Badalamenti's experiments with sound and melody; the composer reflects on what it's like to work in music's wildest extremes for a director who seems to know none. And if Mulholland Drive's music wasn't enough to make you afraid, just wait until you see Badalamenti's appearance as Luigi Castigliani, a power broker whom you don't want to screw on his espresso order. 2351a5e196