April/May, Year of the Wood Snake

Any Landing You Can Walk Away From

It was on Day 13, the midpoint of Week 3 in our three-and-a-half week shoot, that I finally collapsed.

I was okay until suddenly I wasn’t. The caffeine all dropped out at once, and I found myself woozy and teetering.

“Chris.” I waved over our new producer, Chris Hatchett. “I’m about to pass out. I’m gonna lie down in the wardrobe tent.”

“Okay man,” he said, concern on his face. “You take care of yourself.”

I was on my back less than a minute when I heard the flap pulled back. “Hey, buddy.” I looked up. It was Set Medic Doug. “Oh good. You’re already in the position I wanted you in. Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna take a few vitals.”

I grunted assent. He took my temperature and blood pressure.

“Are you getting enough sleep?” he asked.

“No.”

“Are you eating normally?”

I snorted. “No.” I’d been drinking Monsters to pry myself awake and taking edibles at night to knock myself out. Uppers and downers. Christian referred to it as the Judy Garland diet.

“Are you diabetic?”

“No.”

“This can be an uncomfortable question for a man your age, but are you having any chest pains.”

That’s when I realized, oh it’s one of these visits. I sat up. “Am I okay?”

“Your blood pressure’s elevated,” he said. “But you’re not sweating, and your color is good.” He told me I was exhausted, that I’d been burning the candle from both ends as well as in the middle.

“Do I need to go to the hospital?”

He shook his head. “You need rest. And to stop drinking that crap. Get some sleep, but if your heart starts racing or you feel chest pains, pull the ripcord and call an ambulance.”

Hatchett had me driven to the actors’ VRBO, where I slept for the rest of the day. The next day, I worked remotely. It was the only day I wasn’t on set.

Gamers 4 was the most difficult, harrowing, and gutting shoot of my career—physically and emotionally. Every day, I went through some version of “this is it, this is the end of my career, I can’t go on.” Our problems were legion and compounding. And yet, somehow, through all the chaos, this team produced the greatest footage and performances we’ve ever captured while windmilling to keep our balance.

I remember what my wife told me before the shoot, about the expansions and contractions that happen when you’re giving birth, as you’re pushed beyond capacity over and over again, each time thinking this is the one that breaks me, there’s no way I can survive this. And then you do, and you find yourself looking down from a vantage point you never thought you’d reach. And then the next contraction hits, and you’re sure this is the one that ends everything, you were wrong before this is more than you can take, and then it relaxes, and you’re higher up still. And then the next one hits…

Gamers 4 was a transformative production, on a personal and professional level. Not everyone who began the shoot with us was there at the end. And there were several folks who joined us en route who we never would have finished the shoot without. After the first week, three people quit the production team for reasons I do not care to discuss. I handed the reins to Gabe, stepped down as director, and stepped into a role in production to do what I could to right the ship. I spent the rest of the shoot in the production office or trekking to and from set.

Let me be clear: I did not solve the problems with production. We hired an emergency fixer, who took a look under the hood, said “oh shit,” and urged me to hire other fixers. Which I did, because the alternative was not finishing the film. Our budget was blown wide open, but we finally had a team capable of getting the project finished. And still, had it not been for the largess of an angel donor, we wouldn’t have gotten there.

And yet—and yet!—despite all the setbacks and challenges and grating disappointment, we made something spectacular. We’re emerging from this experience stronger than we went in. Our team of fixers fell in love with the project and wants to make more. Our Director of Photography loved the project, said it was one of the most fun shoots he’d ever been on and that he captured some of the favorite footage of his career. Our new producers are already looking for a home for the project, one with a much broader scope than we’d ever had envisioned. This might just be the one that breaks out into a wider audience and market. We’re already discussing new means of funding, coupled with private investment, state incentives, and our own crowdfunding acumen. And our angel donor? He wants to make our next project.

So, was it worth it? All the pain, disappointment, and trauma? Absolutely. Though it’s going to be a while until I’m fully recovered.

Stills and First Teaser

I wasn’t going to tell you we got the best footage ever without sharing some of it. Come on now, I wouldn’t tease you like that. I don’t need to, because we already have a full-on teaser. Andy’s been burning the midnight oil at both ends and in the middle.

And here’s our first look teaser. Andy’s already hard at work on an action/comedy trailer that will hint at more of the story.

Fate of the Slate

To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what’s going to happen with the Cabin 9 slate. We went into Gamers 4 full of joy and moxie, but came out of it haggard, broken, and with a nicotine addiction.

We also came out of it with a more realistic understanding of what production at this level requires. There’s what we thought Gamers 4 would take, and what it actually cost, and when we apply those lessons to future projects, well… we have to pause and reflect.

At this moment, I cannot say with any certainty if a second season of Liberty Cabbage is a viable project. We’ve also chanced into an opportunity with Dwell that we absolutely must pursue. I have to be vague, but if this opportunity turns out the way it promises, Dwell would be the only project we have in development for at least a year. Which would displace other projects on the slate.

But in a good way. Some disruptions are beneficial. Because if we do wind up making Dwell at the level this opportunity presents, we would be at a place, as a production company, that we hadn’t projected ourselves to arrive at for 5–10 years. And that’s a jump in scope and production that we cannot afford to pass up.

So, at the moment, all bets are off. If we do amend the slate, and it will be due to an opportunity we can’t pass up. Either way, we’ll have a better sense of what’s in store by our next post.

What’s Next?

Honestly, I don’t know. The problems on Gamers 4 struck so deep they made me question myself, my identity, and what I’m doing at a fundamental level. I’m frankly not sure what the future of this newsletter is, or if and how From Dragon to Dragon will continue. There’s no magic without sacrifice, and considering the opportunities that have arisen from our journey through Gamers 4, it feels like my energy may soon be pulled in a different direction. That may just be residual trauma I’m processing from the shoot, it may be the strange kismet manifesting again, and it may be something else entirely. The only way to find out is to keep moving forward and see what happens.

—Matt