ERIC M. KLEIN, p.g.a.
Over the course of producing, I’ve come to believe very strongly in one fundamental truth: Films are made one frame at a time.
Flashback to: New Jersey, 1982. I was a freshman in high school. One day, I was supposed to meet my older brother, Dave, at Mr. Chase’s classroom after school. Well, Dave was late and I found myself wandering around a strange, dimly lit, labyrinth filled with camera gear and miniature, doll house-like sets. Suddenly, from the dark corner office, a gruff voice said, “Have a seat and I’ll be right with you.” Before I could explain that I wasn’t Dave, Mr. Chase began his tutorial about the frame-by-frame process of creating animated films. I’d never taken a Film & Animation class before and, to me, it was nothing short of magical. Six months and sixty-five hundred frames later, at the New Jersey Institute of Technology Film Festival, I received the second place prize for my collage animation, Lola. My life changed forever and, in hindsight, I now realize that I would continue to apply the patience, precision, and hands-on knowledge I learned from animation as I embarked on the next stage of my filmmaking career. Cue the Talking Heads as we –
Cut to: New York City, 1989. By the time I moved to New York, Spike Lee (Do the Right Thing), Michael Moore (Roger & Me), Jim Jarmusch (Stranger Than Paradise), and a small handful of other independent filmmakers were living the dream of making independent films that went on to receive distribution. But, when Steven Soderbergh’s Sex, Lies, and Videotape shocked the world by winning the Palme d’Or at Cannes, 1989 would forever be known as the year that the indies broke big - and I was right in the middle of it. Starting at the bottom and wanting to learn every step of the filmmaking process, I sought out the most respected set technicians in the city and quickly moved up through the ranks to Best Boy Grip. It may not sound like much, but this position became my film school. Working directly with the Line Producers in the daily operations, I not only learned my craft, but also developed a working knowledge of every other crew-member’s craft as well, ranging from the camera to location management to hair and makeup and beyond. As my list of credits grew and I worked on bigger and bigger shows, I learned both how to - and how not to - make a movie. But I eventually grew tired of working so hard to make other people’s films really good. I wanted to take what I’d learned and make a film of my very own. I wanted to embrace the constant challenges of delivering quality work on time and on budget, one frame at a time. I wanted to Produce.
Smash cut to: 1996. It was the golden age of independent film and a decade that would later be written about in books. We just had a double-header with wrapping Pictures of Baby Jane Doe (Calista Flockhart) and premiering Quentin Carr (Jared Harris) at the Tribeca Film Center and it was time for more. Striking while the iron was hot, I partnered with a director/screenwriter/producer to produce a feature film titled Bury the Evidence. We had a script, a business plan, Karen Black attached to play the lead role, and USD $20K in the bank, which was considerably less than the $125K we needed to make the film in 35mm. A few days before principal photography was to begin, we were still $30K short, running out of leads, and working the phones. We heard a lot of noes, but took every one as an open invitation to ask our next question, “Who else do you know?” I got a new lead - a real long shot, to say the least – and, 48 hours later, to my surprise, found myself picking up a check for $20K at a “bucket shop” on the 12th floor of the #2 Twin Towers. Afterwards, I called my Director from a payphone in the lobby and gave him the good news. As it turned out, he had some good news for me as well. He, too, had raised $20K. Bury the Evidence was a “go.”
Dissolve to: Montage. Everyone’s heard the cliché about how taking risks comes with great rewards. Well, in my experience, clichés are clichés because they’re true (which, in itself, is also a cliché). One motion picture led to the next and, from 1998 to 2003, I was producing a private equity-financed film a year, one frame at a time. The Young Unknowns. dogme#17. Happy Hour. American Reunion. The Deep and Dreamless Sleep. Parlaying one film into the next, we were always in production, always playing in competition on the festival circuit, always negotiating better deals with distributors. We even figured out a way to theatrically release some of our films ourselves, cutting out the middlemen and maximizing our investors’ ROIs. Through this DIY process, I learned the fundamentals of post finishing (e.g. color grading, visual effects, sound design and mixing, etc.), how to prepare all of the media so that it meets technical standards, and the ins and outs of domestic and foreign sales. At last, I had developed a command of the entire filmmaking process, from inception to distribution. There are many producers in this town; proud to know how to actually make a film from the ground up.
Dissolve to: Los Angeles, 2007. After The Deep and Dreamless Sleep, I decided to get married, settle down, and have children. I took a position as the in-house DI Producer at a boutique post-production house in Santa Monica. During my tenure there, Guy Livneh, a cinematographer who shot a film I’d produced in Cuba years earlier, introduced me to Dax Phelan, a director/screenwriter/producer who was looking for a post-production house for an independent feature film, titled Jasmine. Guy had shot the film, felt it was something special, and believed that, given our similar sensibilities, Dax and I would be a good fit. His would prove to be a prescient insight. Like me, Dax cares about the macro and the micro. He cares about every part of the process. He is tireless in his quest to get it right. He’s about the project, not the clock. And, he makes films one frame at a time. Over my years of producing, I vowed to never again work with first-timers or “hyphenates” (i.e. writer/directors). Dax was both and, yet, for Dax, I broke my own rule.
Cut to: Los Angeles, 2014. By the time Dax achieved picture-lock on Jasmine, I had moved to a bigger post facility in Hollywood and, over the next year, we got to know each other well as we finished the film. A year is a long time for color and sound work on an independent film, but Dax was determined to leave no stone unturned and I created a schedule that would accommodate his unique process. The film had its World Premiere at the Hong Kong International Film Festival and would go on to receive 97 awards (to date) on the festival circuit, including 18 for Best Picture. In addition, many of our collaborators, who’d never won awards before in their careers, received multiple awards for their contributions to Jasmine. For me, the greatest award came when Dax offered me Producer credit on the film to thank me for my contribution and, then, asked me to serve as the Producer on his sophomore feature Kirkwood which brings us –
To Present.
I not only find myself surrounded by many other talented colleagues also capable on raising the game, I can’t help but marvel at the unexpected, and welcome the turns my life has taken. I’m not sure which show will be in production next, as I have several in the works. I’ll just pause with a little Dicky Fox (via Cameron Crowe).
“Hey, I don't have all the answers. In life, to be honest, I've failed as much as I've succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life. And I wish you, my kind of successes.” - from “Jerry Maguire” (1996)