By Ernest M. Whiteman III

I. Getting a “Real” Job

And some times is seen, a strange spot in the sky/
A human being that was given to fly
                                                                   ~Eddie Vedder, 1996

It is a tiring thing to make your ambitions a reality. It takes a lot out of you. You question yourself everyday whether or not you made the right choice in pursuing a moviemaking career. They tell you, in the end, it will all have been worth it. But, making a living in the in-between is not a pretty picture. There are many obstacles to overcome to make it as a Native moviemaker.

First, when I expressed my ambition to make movies, many people never took me seriously. Even from people I love. They told me that I should get a real job. In high school, I was encouraged to take computer classes because they are, or were, the wave of the future. Movie making is considered an “art” and therefore not held up to the same standards of valued employment such as working the drive-thru at Carl’s Jr. For some reason, making movies is not considered hard work.

My family only wanted financial security for me. They wanted me to be taken care of. They did not want to worry about my well-being. They did not want me scratching to make ends meet while I struggle to realize “my art”. Such as it is with families. But I chose to become a moviemaker, if only to see the images floating in my head on a movie screen somewhere. While some played along, everyone felt I should get real work.

It is a hard time for me right now. I do not have a job that allows me the luxury of making feature-length movies when I want, nor, pays me enough to get proper equipment. I need to settle for the spare time short videos and the super-cheap, low-quality camera and editing software. I cannot go off on grand exhibitions or festival promenade with my delicate little constructs, so, thank God for the internet, or no one would see my latest short masterpiece.

In the meantime, I continue to look for that dream job. Sooner or later, I will have to accept that I cannot live up to my filmic aspirations while the bills go unpaid. I would love to work for a video production house. Yet, I am of two minds of that. Can I work with the passion I reserve for my own little projects on someone else’s movie? And, how can I get hired at these places when once again my “experience does not match our requirements”. For some reason, independent movie making experience does not count as much as “real” paid experience.

So, I continue to go back and check the e-mails and the voicemails, hoping that someone will take the chance on me. Because sketching the storyboards does not make money and filmic destiny does not get the dishes done.

Now, every time I open the inbox to my e-mail account I look for that one message. That one message that will make it all worthwhile. But all I get lately are the occasional job listings, spam on how I can add three inches, and the odd message reminding me how proud Adam Beach is of his Native heritage. Like I need to be reminded that all other Natives but me are working their dream job.

What is it that makes it hard for me to live my dream? Am I not doing enough? Or am I doing too much?  Do I devote too much time to finding a movie making job, or not enough? I guess I just have to learn to swallow my pride long enough to work the crummy job to pay the bills. That way, there is one less thing to worry about. But will it cost me my dream of making movies? That just becomes one more thing to worry about. I have learned that much, there is always one more thing to worry about. Eventually, I got tired of worrying and took a chance on network television.

II. On the Lot
For me it is always about working on movies or nothing else. If I cannot make a living making movies than it hardly seems worth doing anything else. I have always believed moviemaking to be my first, best destiny. It is not about achieving fame but at least, getting recognition. So, I turned to television for a possible opportunity.

This May 22nd marked the debut of Fox Television’s newest reality show, On the Lot.  Here, several no-name moviemakers are chosen, American Idol-style to compete against one another for a chance at a one million dollar contract with Fox Studios. I was hoping to be one of them. Wouldn’t that be great, a Native moviemaker on network television? Maybe even more than one? I could realize my ambition of becoming the first Native Sell-out.

How cool would it be to have a Northern Arapaho face on television every week going through the same struggles as my moviemaking brethren? So, under an ever-shifting deadline, I submitted a short movie, which I shot, edited, and upload in one day, No One Ever Sees Indians  (Are you tired of that title yet?), about finding and maintaining my Native identity here in the suburbs. It was a nice little piece, I thought, and said something different about Native Americans.

So, after four months of waiting, I get the call from a Burnett Productions assistant; I made it to the next round. That was a great day and I felt like things were finally starting to fall in line. I rushed to send in another round of paperwork, my required videos on disc along with a headshot. It was basically an audition. Then after that, I heard nothing. I was told to say nothing about it not even to colleagues and friends, which was hard. How often does this happens to Native moviemakers? I was made to wait again. But I am very good at waiting.

I anticipated becoming one of the contestants that must make one movie a week and are voted off based on how good their movie is. If I could get on the show, even if I am voted off the first week, I will have achieved something very few Native Americans experience; mainstream network exposure. If I were voted to stay on, I would have to rise to the peak of my skills in writing, producing, and directing one short movie a week for twenty weeks. I could make a living making movies, no matter the reality television construct. And I would get exposure for my works.

The show premiered without me.

I did not even get a rejection notice. Not even a “your experience does not match our requirements”. So, my short-lived television career comes to an end. Could it be that I was not Indian-y enough? More beads and feathers perhaps? Honestly, the only time when most non-Natives even acquiesce to view Natives as contemporary is when we explore all the sad and bad things about being Native American. So the non-Native public can say, oh, poor things, that’s terrible, and go back to their dinners. Or maybe, Steven Spielberg, one of the producers of the show, read some of the commentary I wrote about him and nixed me. (I could at least buy that one.) Well, at the very least, I can now show you the movie I made.

Once again, rejection makes you question your choices. Can I make it as a moviemaker? Will I have to postpone, or give up on it all together, that dream of seeing a movie I made on the big screen? It needs to be said again, rejection stings like a bitch. More so, when it comes from Steven Fickin’ Spielberg. It was then I figured, Hell, I’d do it myself.

When network television failed me, I then decided to try opening my own movie-making company. But I needed some help with starting my own business. Would my own tribe take a chance on me and my moviemaking aspirations?

III. Redshade Productions
It is the dream of any moviemaker. To work on movies they believe in without interference from the Hollywood system. The Hollywood system is geared towards keeping out the younger generation of moviemakers. Filled with rules and guilds that only take your money; just so they can officially sanction your life’s works, like most labor markets, it is a system meant to keep out the younger, cheaper, more creative work force. (Which, incidentally, why colleges were created.) So, rather than get lost in the miasma of Hollywood machinations, I thought I would try to start my very own movie production company. Heck, I already produced movies under the shingle of Redshade Productions. Why not make it a paying gig?

It turns out, according to the website, that the Northern Arapaho Tribe, my tribe, has a business code which allows tribal members to file for a for-profit business certificate under their tax codes. All I have to do, according to the website, is file articles of incorporation and an operational agreement with the Tribal Secretary and I would be allowed to get small business loans as long as I have a home office on the reservation. According to the website. It would be as simple as that. I returned to the Wind River Reservation filled with a sense of hope. Maybe, Redshade Productions was the correct path all along.

So, having no idea how to write articles of incorporation, I begin typing them up as fast I could. I know I would have to pay a fee for filing. Once I do, in ten business days, if my articles meet the required standards, I will be issued a certificate of business. Then Redshade Production Company will be off and running. I could then get business loans for equipment, facilities, and salary, and finally roll cameras on my action opus, The Shoshoni Connection.

Being smart, or at least trying, I went to the tribal offices to ask questions for clarification on what I needed to submit and maybe get some examples of articles of incorporation and operational agreements. It felt really good to be this much closer to realizing Redshade Production Company. But when I asked the ladies behind the counter at the Northern Arapaho tribal office, they seemed confused. So, they talked about it and agreed and replied, “We don’t do that.”

And just like that, my hope for Redshade Production Company is once again on the backburner as I try to figure out what I should do next. And the bills keep piling up while I do this. Things never change, really, back on the Wind River. I left there in 1999 and came back in 2007, some eight years later, and the exact same business council was still in office even though the term is two years. I had to wonder how any Native-owned businesses are encouraged to try when this is how things are.

Tribal bureaucracy can be a big hurdle in any Native endeavor. I am often reminded of a scene in Gibson’s (yes, as in Mel) Braveheart  when it comes to tribal politics. It makes me appreciate that I do not have to deal with that, being so far away. So now, The Shoshoni Connection  remains in pre-production. Though, I did make a major breakthrough on the script and am hurtling toward a shooting draft. All I have to do now is wait. Wait some more. Wait on someone willing to take a chance on a Northern Arapaho director who wants to shoot an action movie. Someone who will hand me a camera and say, I believe in your talent and passion and that is what I am investing in.

So, I wait.

IV. Waiting’s Patron Saint
Now here I am. Waiting once more. I know. I can sound a little self-pitying here. But movies at their core are a narcissistic medium. All I want to do is make movies for a living. It really is not that much to ask when you think about it. Though I have my Oscar speech planned, I really only expect to make nine or ten really good movies that I can be proud of. I have ideas for at least five features. I do not expect the career of Martin Scorsese, but I kind of hope to be making movies well into my 80s or 90s.

A lot of people really do not know how hard a job it is making a movie. There are scads of things going on at once on a shoot and the director needs to be on top of each and every one of them. Especially on an independent shoot, when your cast can sometimes double as your crew. You are in charge of feeding them, helping to move cables and equipment and lights, all while trying to coax the greatest performance ever from your main actor. I like to say that I got into movies because I did not have the aptitude to be a rocket scientist, but it is still hard work. Yet, if you strive to be consistently good at it and enjoy the process then it can seem like the best job in the world.

I just want to run my own movie production company. To make the movies that I want to make, when I want to, and make a living doing it. To not have to wait on other people’s calls telling me I am now good enough or experienced enough to work for them. Now, I will have to be like every other struggling moviemaker and actor out there. I guess now I will have to do the typical movie industry thing and work a day job. I will just have to swallow my pride and serve the coffee, wash the dishes, or shelve the books, or move the dirt to make ends meet. So if you see a great big Northern Arapaho lug wiping down your table, give a nice tip, you may have just invested in The Shoshoni Connection.

Until I call the shots in my own studio, I will continue to search. Search for that one chance to prove myself. Like the ronin samurai of old Japan, looking for one more chance to recapture lost honor. I am almost Sisyphus-ian in my dedication to waiting. Working the nightshift may not be what I want, nor as glamorous as calling action on a set for a movie I have written. Still, I have to do something; because, dreaming the scene does not put money in my pocket and filmic destinies do not get the dishes done.

Until that day finally comes, I will continue to get in my e-mail inbox; the much-needed job listings, messages on how proud Adam Beach is of his heritage, and how I can magically add three inches. I just don’t know. I am already six foot four inches tall. Being six foot seven would be a little much, don’t you think?

There is no greater solitude than that of the samurai. Unless it be that of the tiger in the jungle, …perhaps.
                                                   ~ Le Samouraï, Jean-Pierre Melville  

The End