by Terry Green.
A time comes in an independent filmmaker’s career when he asks himself if it’s been worth it. That filmmaker is usually somewhere in middle age, reminiscing on the life he’s spent running down money, negotiating deals, adjusting to changing trends in the film world, and occasionally finding time to be creative and make a movie.
I came to filmmaking late in life, directing my first feature at the age of 42. Before that, I’d been an actor in the theater for several years. Filmmaking was a way, I believed, to earn a living doing something that had a more permanent impact on society. After all, performances on stage are fleeting and they come and go, but film was forever; it had the ability to survive long after the spotlights dimmed and the stage went dark.
Film could reach into the future and was living proof that all of my dreams were real and not just imagined. I could tell stories on film that would survive after I was gone, stories that might enlighten and change how others looked at the world. A dozen years into my film journey, I begin to wonder if being a filmmaker isn’t a flawed ambition, like a director checking the gate on the lens for dust at the end of a take.
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