Meet the Filmmakers

Steph Green is the Oscar-nominated writer-director of the short film New Boy (Ireland, 2007) and co-writer-director of the feature Run and Jump (Ireland, 2014).

Steph Green

Photo by Kevin Richey

Ken Wardrop won Best European Short with the documentary Undressing My Mother (Ireland, 2004) and followed that with two feature-length documentaries, His and Hers (Ireland, 2009) and Mum and Me (Ireland and Wales, 2015).

Green and Wardrop’s shorts have enjoyed considerable success, traveling to festivals worldwide and winning more nominations and prizes than space will allow to list here.

Ken Wardrop

Phil Sheerin’s short film North (UK, 2015) was a finalist in the 2014 Student Academy Awards, a 2014 Royal Television Society Nominee, and winner of the Tiernan McBride Award for Best Short Drama at the 2015 Galway Film Fleadh, one of Ireland’s most prestigious festivals. Currently immersed in a number of projects, Sheerin is a new voice to watch out for in the future.

Phil Sheerin

Photo by Alistair Little

What’s the Idea?

The potential digital reach of the contemporary short and the niche audiences available to filmmakers online offer new and exciting possibilities and challenges. But some things just don’t change.

There’s an old saying that a film is only as good as the idea behind it—and this may very well be the case. There’s no substitute for a good idea, and it’s often waiting for you in your own backyard. In other words, sometimes the more personal the story, the more committed the filmmaker is to telling that story.

This was certainly true for Sheerin. His short film North tells the story of Aaron, a young man living on an isolated farm in rural Ireland, who is struggling to come to terms with his mother’s illness and impending death. “North itself was a very personal story,” he said. “I felt very guilty for moving to a different country while my mother was sick. The film is altered and heightened, of course, but the core or impetus behind the action is very much based in how I felt.”

Ken Wardrop’s Undressing My Mother is also an intensely personal film—an intimate portrayal of the director’s mother as she reflects on her aging body and her relationship with her deceased husband, Wardrop’s father. “It was going to be an exploration of my mum’s body and aging and so forth, but it wasn’t necessarily going to be what I feel now is more a love story.”

Ironically, Wardrop started focusing on documentary in college because he was intimidated to write fiction. “I wouldn’t be that confident in my own writing and in what I really had to say. I was much more interested in what other people had to say.” An added bonus with documentary was the scope it gave him to creatively document his own colorful family.

But basing a story on personal experiences isn’t the only route for a short film. Another approach might be to adapt a short story that you’ve read and connect with. This is exactly the route Steph Green chose.

Originally from San Francisco, and now dividing her time between Los Angeles and Ireland, Green came to University College Dublin as a postgraduate film student. Quite accidentally, she came across the short story New Boy by internationally renowned writer Roddy Doyle. “I read New Boy on a break. I remember thinking this would be such a good short film.” Told with a mixture of humor and pathos, the story charts the experiences of Joseph, a young African boy, during his first day in an Irish school. Green contacted Doyle and optioned it for $10 with the proviso that if she got Irish Film Board funding, she would pay him some more. And she did, on both counts. “You can make choices that will increase the likelihood of impact,” she insists. “By choosing a Roddy Doyle short story, I improved my chances.”

Even with a short, never underestimate the power of the story. All three filmmakers here were drawn to their short film idea in a very personal way. In each case, they gave the audience an emotional experience that resonated beyond national boundaries, and their personal connection to the core idea of the story helped give them the drive to pursue it and see it to completion.

Is the Short a Good Calling Card?

If the ultimate goal is to be a filmmaker, you’ll need to show potential investors that you have what it takes to succeed as a filmmaker. To demonstrate your talent and skill, you’ll want to make a short. And another. And another.

Can a short serve as a calling card? These three filmmakers think so. They’re enthusiastic about the short film form and the opportunities it offers.

Wardrop says of his short:

I think it was a good calling card, and I think people were interested to see what I would do next. And I think from a funding perspective, too—be it government agencies, sales agents, or the Film Board—they would look at what I did in the short and expect me to do something similar in a feature and take the risk with me.

Sheerin suggests approaching the short film this way: “If you think of shorts as a place to learn, then it can only ever be rewarding.” He says the short is a calling card in terms of showcasing your voice and your skills, but he also offers a note of caution:

The film will generally need to either be nominated for or win an award that garners a lot of attention or causes a bit of a storm on social media, generally. The amazing nature of the film game is that the people you’re trying to impress are always looking for new talent, but you’ll need something to poke your head above the parapet and make them watch your film instead of the other thousand they’re sent.

Though Green agrees about the benefits of a short as a potential calling card, she acknowledges that not all first-time filmmakers are drawn to the short. Some want to make a feature first. “That’s the alternative,” she reflects. “You know, that’s a huge undertaking, but if you really feel ready, I’d say, why not? But it’d better be good, because people don’t watch an hour and a half film unless it won something—it’s easier to say, will you watch my five-minute film? Will you give me five minutes of your time?” Green also encourages new filmmakers to look at branded content as a place to be creative and get paid for your work. After all, she says, “good storytelling is good storytelling.”

Where Is the Funding?

Wardrop and Sheerin made their shorts in college, so funding wasn’t an issue at that point in their careers—they both had use of college cameras and resources. Wardrop’s Undressing My Mother is a graduate film from his time in Dún Laoghaire Institute of Art, Design and Technology (IADT) in 2004 where the National Film School is now housed. The Irish Film Board did, however, provide completion funding for a 35mm print for the festival circuit.

Similarly, North was Sheerin’s first project on a two-year MA program at the National Film and Television School in the UK. This was the second short film he’d ever made. The advantage of making a film while in film school is clear:

The film cost 3,000 [$4,000] which was supplied by the school. The actors got paid a small amount, more of a token payment really—and every crew position was filled by students from the school. The budget gets spent mainly on hiring locations, catering, and transport. The school also does the DCP [Digital Cinema Package] of the film for festival submissions.

Funding was certainly an issue for Steph Green, who had applied to the Irish Film Board with multiple original projects over the years and had been rejected. The Film Board provides funding for development, production, and distribution to successful filmmakers, which includes specific short film schemes. Even with Doyle’s name on the story, her funding application for New Boy was still not a foregone conclusion. “I was fighting for it. I didn’t feel like it was a slam-dunk. I remember thinking this could go either way.”

While Green acknowledges the importance of funding, she’s also aware that it can be a double-edged sword:

Of course it’s massively helpful to have funding, and it’s helpful psychologically because you’re acknowledged. It’s helpful production-wise because you can pay people appropriately. I mean that’s a kind of given. It’s helpful, but it isn’t permission. Everyone has permission to make a short. One can’t be deterred by not getting permission, because that’s a psychological loop that presents itself throughout a filmmaking career. If you keep waiting for someone—like a fairy godmother—to help you make a film, it just never happens that way. You always have to self-start.

She also acknowledges the usefulness of funding possibilities for shorts in Ireland. “In the States, there isn’t funding for shorts like you find in Ireland. The idea that you’d get a grant to make a short over here seems like such a great opportunity!”

Sheerin agrees. “It’s very hard to get your foot on the ladder as a paid director. In my experience, you need to manufacture at least nine out of ten jobs yourself.”

Funding isn’t any easier for documentary film, as Wardrop observes. “I think the only thing in documentary is there may be fewer people in the game than there would be in drama. There might be more people chasing the drama.”

While filmmaking with little or no funding is possible—and sometimes maybe even desirable when you want that cash injection—how do you win over funders? Green suggests that you have to find a way of “connecting what you personally want to say with something that will resonate with first your funder and then your audience.” As she says, the idea with a short is to begin a conversation that creates relationships with people who will then be your supporters when you move forward.

There are specific problems documentary filmmakers face when trying to attract financing. “Documentaries are different,” Wardrop explains:

If you go in with a script, there’s something on paper. Unfortunately, with documentary, it tends to be all wishful thinking. If the stars align and we get lucky with this and that person agrees and so forth … then we can make it! If someone comes in with an amazing documentary, there’s too much luck still involved.

One way to attract funding for a documentary—short or feature—is to create a trailer to demonstrate your skill and to give funders a general feel for the film. When going to the Film Board for funding for his first feature, His and Hers, Waldrop did just that:

We made a little trailerette that would suggest the style and tone of the piece and the type of humor that we hoped to get. And I suppose because we were trying to really explore the ordinary, we were trying to say, look, this can be interesting, when on paper it can sound a little mundane. But if we do it in the right way and style and approach, people may engage with it and it might be creative and exciting.

What about funding for your second short? Or third? Sheerin, with his student days behind him, now faces the same funding challenges as everyone else:

North has definitely helped me out. It has been like a key, opening doors that previously were locked. However, once I was through that door, North no longer mattered and the focus was on the next project. North has now become a label—meaning, I’m the high-stakes family drama guy. Which is cool for now, but it’s the next project on its own merits that will get me the money or not. A quality short can bring a lot of attention, but it’s up to you to capitalize on that attention. I’m still working on that bit.

Yet Sheerin cautions against making everything about the funding. “If you get into the habit of making things, you’ll make more contacts, and you’ll find that each new project gets easier to get off the ground.”

Who Are You Calling Short?

If you have in mind that short films are less than features, think again. This is the starting place for most filmmakers. And getting started as a filmmaker means taking the reins and being your own yes wo/man.

Every yes that you tell yourself will likely be in response to a no that you hear from someone else. For Green:

Really the MO of a filmmaker is to hear no and keep going. It’s almost equally important to keep showing up—and also to keep showing up with something new each time. I understand why it can be depleting for an Irish filmmaker to go, okay, the Film Board doesn’t acknowledge me, so I’m not going to work. But you need to keep trying and keep making films anyway.

Sheerin agrees:

I would say, don’t give up. If you have faith in your project, then keep pushing. But don’t rely on funding schemes and awards to make all your films. If you have a project that definitely requires a large budget, then yeah, apply and wait. But in the meantime, you should make something. I know it’s easier said than done as cameras aren’t the hard part, but having an idea that excites you is.

Wardrop thinks it’s also just good to prove people wrong sometimes:

If you have a script that you believe in, maybe for some reason the way you’ve written it doesn’t translate to the reader in the way that it should. But if you see it, go out and prove it. Prove people wrong.

Interestingly, Wardrop also has mixed feelings about funding. “Sometimes I’d prefer to do it without the funding, because there’s freedom and less of a pressure on you.”

Speaking of funding, how exactly do you go about paying your bills while you’re still making your shorts? When can you expect your films to pay your electricity?

In that SXSW talk, Mark Duplass advises filmmakers to get a “really strong day job” and save money to travel to festivals to build your community. It’s widely accepted that in the early stages of a career, filmmakers are unlikely to attract well-paid jobs.

Green laughs about this:

There was this kind of lore of the auteur, where they make short films and then they become Ridley Scott! Somebody says, Oh, look—let’s have this guy direct our movie, and he becomes Steven Spielberg. I mean there are a few standout career paths where you might make a feature that gets noticed at Sundance and you’re straight into your film career. But most people are doing something else while generating their own material on the side. I still do commercials to sustain myself financially, and now I’m starting to do TV. I’m very much an independent filmmaker in that I still have to find other work to pay the bills. I mean, Run and Jump doesn’t pay me residuals. It’s about juggling and continuing to self-start.

Wardrop and Sheerin also acknowledge the stark economic reality. Until recently, Wardrop has run a small company that makes commercials. Sheerin has also tried his hand at commercials, among other things:

You shouldn’t look at your “normal” job as a burden but as a place to make more friends and hear more stories. Don’t let the normal job ever take over, though. I would say, don’t work more than three days a week. You’re a filmmaker, and although you aren’t being paid yet, you need to work at it as often as possible. To be honest, until you’re operating at a skilled level and have a network of people wanting to work with you, you won’t make good money. Working for free or for next to nothing when you’re starting out is a standard in the industry.

One can see the challenges—working for next to nothing, while only working three days a week at a day job. We can clearly see why it’s tempting to give up the dream and do something where the end goal is a bit more achievable.

The truth is, most careers aren’t made overnight. And there’s an awful lot of struggle to stick with it when the obstacles are so many.

Cavalry? What Cavalry?

“Technology is so cheap,” Duplass told the 2015 SXSW audience, “there’s no excuse for not making short films on the weekend with your friends. I recommend making one of these every weekend with your smartest group of friends. They don’t have to be film people, just charismatic. It should be one scene, five minutes, and ideally comedic, because those program well at festivals.”

It’s certainly the case that low-or no-budget films aren’t inevitably at a disadvantage, according to IndieCork’s Úna Feely: “We reward films for their content, creativity, and innovation—not for having high production values only. It is more important that the film has merit, and in our experience no-to low-budget films get selected each edition of IndieCork.” Indeed, many good international festivals welcome low-budget films, such as the Hamburg Short Film Festival, which has a specific “no budget” section.

The filmmakers spotlighted here are undoubtedly talented, but they’re not a breed apart. They aren’t the “chosen ones” who effortlessly excel while the rest of us, mere mortals, struggle by the wayside. What they share is a knowledge of their craft, a passion to tell stories, the tenacity to push through, and a stoic acceptance that rejection is part of the process.

Okay, so the cavalry isn’t coming. But really, you’re way too busy making all kinds of films to notice!

DR. SUSAN LIDDY lectures in the Department of Media and Communications in Mary Immaculate College, University of Limerick in Ireland. As a practitioner, she has produced a number of documentaries. Her research interests include gender issues in the film script development and production process; creativity and creative practice; female screenwriters and a female “voice”; and the representation of older women in screen narratives. She is currently researching the working lives and experiences of Irish female screenwriters and is active in the promotion of women in the Irish film industry.

Susan Liddy