Rod Pocowatchit is many things—a journalist, dancer, actor and filmmaker. In his typically self-effacing style, he shares with us the joys and sorrows of an emerging director traveling the film festival trail. It ain't easy. And though he refers to himself "a bomb,"  we beg to differ; Rod is definitely "da' bomb." 

Read on and you'll see why…:)

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By Rod Pocowatchit  

You’re finished your film. By no means whatsoever has it been easy to get this far literally through sweat, tears, heartache, anxiety and frustration. But somehow, you did it. 

Now what? 

That’s the question that I was faced with after completing two features Dancing on the Moon  in 2002 and Sleepdancer  in 2005. I wrote, edited, produced, acted in and directed both features on a miniscule-to-nonexisting budget, and shot on digital video with my very loyal friends as cast and crew (for the most part). 

I opted, as many filmmakers do, to try to get into film festivals. But don’t kid yourself. This is no easy task. Festivals may be waiting with open arms for your submission, but only a very tiny percentage of films get into large festivals like Sundance or Tribeca—or even smaller niche festivals. 

The whole submission process takes perseverance, involves spending even more money that you don’t have on submission fees and detailed organization. It’s a complete job unto itself. But that’s just the clerical part. You are basically selling your film and yourself, so it’s also a very emotional ride. This is your heart, your soul, your passion that you’re sending off to be judged and either loved or tossed with the trash. It makes you feel very vulnerable. 

It’s feels like being in a relationship and you are—with your film. Sometimes that experience is completely joyous, and sometimes it’s downright painful.

First Efforts 

After finishing Dancing on the Moon,  which took a good four years of my life already at that point, I hurriedly finished a rough cut to submit to the Sundance Film Festival.  

Now, I had already gone through two of the Sundance Institute’s screenwriting labs; a huge feat unto itself (I know this now but naively didn’t understand that then).  

And since I was so new to the whole “filmmaking thing” (Dancing on the Moon  was my first attempt at even trying to write a script), I was completely unprepared for being thrust into this mix of established writers and directors. I fit in as well as a pit bull at a cat show. 

But the labs were an amazing, beautiful, exhilarating, frustrating, life-changing experience. I learned monumental things about writing and myself. 

Deep down, I wasn’t realistically expecting to get into the film festival, because that was just unfathomable. But still, one does hope and dream when it doesn’t seem so far away, just out of arm’s reach, almost possible. And I was told to send an additional tape directly to the feature film program, like they were especially looking out for it.  

After all, the purpose of the program is to discover and nurture new talent. Sundance invests a lot of time, money and labor into the projects and filmmakers they choose. Still, the institute and the film festival are two different entities.  

So I got my very first film festival rejection letter, and yeah, I was disappointed. I knew I shouldn’t have expected anything different, but I couldn’t help it.

Coincidentally at that time, the wonderful Heather Rae had just left the institute and the festival’s Native Forum program was heading in a new direction. I found myself wondering, if had we submitted to the festival one year earlier—before the changes that were taking place—would we have gotten in?  

But that was irrelevant. Because Dancing on the Moon  was what it is: my first attempt—across the board—at making a movie, with no experience whatsoever. So yeah, it was amateurish, and the technical quality was bad. Making this movie WAS my film school. But I had hoped the story—its strength—would be what got us noticed. 

It didn’t. There are no stats available on how many projects go through the Sundance labs but then don’t get picked up for the festival, but I can’t guess that there are too many.  

And while they proudly boast their successes (Smoke Signals, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Requiem for A Dream), I can’t imagine that they’re too proud of their misfires. They might very well think of me as an embarrassment, or a wasted effort.  

But I don’t care. I have no ill will. Because what I learned through them, I will never forget.

A Year’s Wait 

Leave it to the home folks to welcome us with open arms.

We had a truly wonderful opening weekend for Dancing on the Moon  in Wichita, Kansas, my hometown, with   about 1,200 people attending screenings over two nights. Just miraculous. We had a magical weekend, and a really fantastic, warm response. 

Everyone kept asking, what happens now? 

With the rejection from Sundance still warm, I started submitting to other festivals: SXSW and others that were out of our league, and they all said the same thing: No thanks. It was getting to the point that I looked forward to seeing how the rejection letters (mostly e-mails) would be worded. Because—and I don’t know if someone sells a template for those things or not—but they are ALL worded almost exactly, laughingly, the same way. And they ALL wish us luck with our future endeavors—just not with them. 

It had been one whole year to the exact date of our screening in Wichita that everything changed. A whole year of rejection letters, enough to cover the walls in my bathroom.I received a call from Michael Smith at the American Indian Film Festival that they selected Dancing on the Moon  to be screened at the festival in San Francisco. 

Finally, some love. I was ecstatic. I remember saying, “I think I know how it feels to give birth.” 

My female co-worker at the time said, “Uh, no. You don’t.” 

But it was a great feeling, nonetheless. So we planned and bought tickets to attend the screening in San Fran. 

A couple weeks later, I got notification that I had been nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the festival’s awards show (like the “Indian Oscars”). I couldn’t believe it. I was nominated along with Eddie Spears for the ABC miniseries Dreamkeeper  and well-known actor Adam Beach. 

I was nominated with THEM. Yeah, ME. The filmmaker/actor/impostor from Kansas. Unbelievable.

So my parents, my brother Guy Ray and myself went to the festival, attended the filmmakers reception and then the awards show held over opening weekend. 

Needless to say, I lost Best Supporting Actor (Spears won). But I completely did not care. I just enjoyed seeing my name flash up on the big screen and watching my nominee clip play alongside the others. 

But the awards show was long, and my mom and step dad left because they were tired. So they didn’t get to hear my name being called when Michael announced two special jury prizes, which they called Horizon Awards, given to promising new talent. 

I remember going up on stage, praying I didn’t trip, and I vaguely remember mumbling some sort of thank-you speech. Then I was rushed backstage to have my picture taken. 

It’s still all a blur, but it was brilliant. Truly an exuberant high. 

And when I later showed my mom my award, she nearly cried.

The Foot in the Door 

After San Fran, things really picked up. Immediately.  

I was invited to the Smithsonian in D.C. that very next weekend for a screening, then pretty soon we were accepted and invited to festivals all across the country. We screened in Rapid City, Chicago, Tulsa, Albuquerque, Minneapolis and New York City where one of my Sundance writing advisors got to come to the screening and told me it was “extremely rewarding to see the finished film,” and that I did “Really good work on many levels.” 

Then we went international with the First Peoples’ Festival in Montreal, and then went overseas when we were invited to the Salento International Film Festival in Italy. 

And we picked up a few more awards. My brother won Best Actor at the newly organized American Indian L.A. Film & TV Awards and we won the audience award in Kansas City. 

I didn’t get to attend every festival, but I did spend a whole heckuva lot of time traveling that year, and loved every minute of it. I did go to Montreal and Italy, and had wonderful experiences in both places. 

Because the really great part about festivals is sharing your film with a new audience, answering new questions and enjoying new bonds that are formed. The energy in the air sparkles, the vibe buzzes. All for the love of film. 

Slowly, things quieted down. All in all, DOTM screened at about 15-20 festivals. That’s not on par with more successful films, sure, but that ain’t bad. Not at all. 

The Next Project 

I was really proud of our next feature, Sleepdancer.  I thought it really demonstrated my growth as a writer, director and artist.  And I had written a really difficult acting role for myself and gave a performance I was proud of. I thought in general this was a much better film technically—leaps and bounds—than Dancing on the Moon. 

And since I had so much fun traveling with Dancing on the Moon,  I was really looking forward to doing the same thing with Sleepdancer. 

But if we stalled then exploded with Dancing on the Moon,  we did almost the exact opposite with Sleepdancer.  

Out of the Gate

After a very successful preview screening in Wichita, where we received a standing ovation from a house of about 500, I got word from Michael Smith that Sleepdancer  would screen in San Francisco, and that would be our official world premiere. Wonderful!

Then I got award nomination notification. Sleepdancer  was nominated for Best Film, I received nominations for both Best Actor and Best Director, and my bro Mark Wells received a nomination for Best Supporting Actor. I couldn’t have been any happier. 

My D.P Shawn Cunningham and my parents traveled out to San Fran with me for the festival, and we had a really great screening and fun time. 

We didn’t win any of the awards, but again, I didn’t care. I felt we had already won just by being there, nominated in such esteemed company (coincidentally, I was nominated for an acting award again with Adam Beach, who this time won for the lovely Shirley Cheechoo’s Johnny Tootall). 

Then, the following weekend, we were invited to be the closing night film for the Red Fork Film Festival in Tulsa — without them even having seen Sleepdancer.  They just loved Dancing on the Moon  and wanted us back. 

Very gratifying, very moving. So it seemed like things were off with a bang, and my hopes got really high that we would have a moderately successful, really enjoyable festival run — at least on par with DOTM. 

I was wrong.

About Face 

I was invited by the Palm Springs Native American Film Festival to submit, but then never heard anything back, not even a rejection letter.  And then the rejections really started pouring in. Sundance again passed, of course, though I did get a nice personal response from new Native Forum programmer Bird Runningwater, who said he really liked the sophistication of the story. 

And since I thought I was savvier now about the whole festival process, I was trying to tailor my festival submissions accordingly, since it really is a daunting task. There are so many festivals out there now. And since there are more festivals, you’d hope at least some would bite. 

But no. 

Save for just missing the cut to get into the Method Fest Film Festival in Cali (it focuses on acting and the fest director said he really liked my performance), by October 2006 I had received about 18 rejections and spent almost $600 on submission fees. Ouch. 

I tried to stay positive and believe in my project, but it got increasingly difficult. You can only get slapped so many times before it starts to sting. 

Getting Through It 

Doubt slowly gnawed away at me. Maybe Sleepdancer  did suck after all, I thought.  But then why did we start off with such a bang? 

It was a depressing time. I felt defeated and beaten, and had no interest in pursuing anything creatively. 

On a side note, I was also going though some extremely tough family ordeals and enduring some health problems. It was a pretty dark period.

Then, Lo and behold, Ernest Whiteman III comes to the rescue. 

He was the new director for the First Nations Film and Video Festival in Chicago, and he said they weren’t going to be having a full-blown festival that year, but wanted to know if I’d come to Chicago to present Sleepdancer  as the anchor for a film series, instead.  

“I’d love to,” I said. And then right after that, good old Keith Moses with the Colorado River Indian tribe asked if he could screen both Dancing on the Moon  and Sleepdancer  as part of their Indian Days celebration. And THEN my peeps, the Comanches, asked me to come home to Oklahoma and show Sleepdancer  at the Comanche College Invitational Film Festival.  

It was nice to be wanted—finally—after 10 months of trying to keep my head up, I would at least have the chance to share Sleepdancer with a few more people. 

After that, I stopped submitting to festivals, although we did get into a few more (including the Sami International Film Festival in Norway—wow!). I think I was just looking for some closure to that whole chapter.  

Truly, I had no dreams of hitting it “big” with Sleepdancer.  Of fame. Or fortune. I just wanted to show it and share it. And it seemed like no one wanted it. 

Maybe it isn’t very good. Some people have called it “slow.” But Terrence Malick takes however long he damn pleases to tell a story.  

And through this whole thing, I wonder how many festival programmers actually watched Sleepdancer  all the way through. Because it really doesn’t pay off until the very end. Regardless, I had some people tell me they loved it, and that’s something.  

I remember one woman told me after the San Francisco screening, “Very different. Thank you very much.” 

I still fully stand behind it. I’m immensely proud of it, of what we accomplished, with so very little.

Learning and Living 

Sleepdancer  is done in every aspect, and I have moved on.  I’ve released it independently on DVD through my Web site, and I’ve been contacted by a few DVD distributors. But we’ll see. I’ve made two new shorts that I’ll submit to San Fran in the summer, and am working on a third. I’ll still pursue my next feature, and prepare for the mindset needed to tackle such an enormous task—again.  

Hopefully through all of this, I’m getting better. And in a business that’s built on rejection, I hope I’m tougher. 

I might indeed lack the talent needed to move to the next “level.” Just because I want to make films doesn’t mean I’ll be any good at it. But I can’t let that stop me.  

Hey, it’s fun. And like I always say, if it were easy, everyone would do it.

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Copies of Rod's films Dancing on the Moon  and Sleepdancer  can be purchased by visiting his website: www.harmyfilms.com