by Guinevere Turner.
In 1992 I had a moment with my then-girlfriend where we got outraged (as only people in their early 20s can) that there were no lesbian films that represented us. So we decided to make one of our own. We gathered our friends around us, took to the streets and clubs with fliers about casting, asked waitresses we were sure were gay to be in our movie, ran a few mini money scams, and borrowed equipment from local film schools, and we were on our way.
After two years, buckets of tears and Scotch, much lesbian drama and many laughs, we found ourselves at the Sundance Film Festival. We were wide-eyed and new to it all, and the Samuel Goldwyn Company bought our film in four days, then the fastest distribution deal in the festival’s history, and voilà! That’s how you make a lesbian movie. Let’s do it again!
But… not so fast. Back then, independent film was relatively new to mainstream audiences, and one about young lesbians and their little underbelly of a world? Lesbians! They’re just like us! It was all noteworthy and theatrical release-worthy. A huge amount of the press that films like ours, Kevin Smith’s Clerks, and Robert Rodriguez’s El Mariachi garnered was about how hard it was, how little we made it for, and the tricks we used to get the job done.
We got as far as we could with maxing out credit cards and asking people for favors of time, food and stuff. Then film representatives like John Pierson were still in the business of discovering indie filmmakers and giving us enough money to fix all of the things we’d messed up in production. It wasn’t a breeze, but it was there to be done.
Read the rest of this article from Huffington Post.
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