þ7#endl l l l l l.žlÌlÌlÌlÌ lÖlælæløxlÌmp m�m·*mál m·m¨m·m·má-m·m·m·m·m·m· Box of Dreams Can a small, low-budget film put Knoxville on the movie-making map? by Coury Turczyn and Hillari Dowdle John Turturro is standing outside of BambiÕsÑhome of the fabled Òdonut danceÓÑwith his pants around his ankles and a man clutching at his waist. ItÕs 12:20 a.m. on a chilly October night, and the man in question is stunt coordinator Tom Barringer, whoÕs adjusting a stomach pad so that Turturro can safely get the stuffing pounded out of him by a character named ÒDoob.Ó They started rehearsing this fight scene about five hours ago, and so far theyÕve only completed a few takes. ThereÕll be about seven more hours of filming before theyÕre done creating just a few minutes of Box of Moonlight, a low-budget, independent feature that will supposedly open the Knoxville floodgates to a torrent of Hollywood productions. Director Tom DiCilloÑthe man responsible for assembling the 70 shivering technicians, actors and hangers-onÑviews the scene through a video monitor beside the camera equipment. He likes what he sees. BambiÕs glows resplendent beneath the flood lights, a vision of strident pink paint promising second-rate decadence. The Alcoa Highway strip club was rented for about $1,000Ña bargain, to be sure, but the presence of a bona fide, big-time film crew is something new for the club, just as it is for Knoxville. Immortality beckons. Padding in place, Turturro rejoins actors Sam Rockwell, Dermot Mulroney and Mike StanleyÑthe one who will soon have the honor of gut-punching MoonlightÕs leading man. Turturro, co-star of Quiz Show, Unstrung Heroes and several Spike Lee films, stands rigidly on his mark, moving only to bend his neck or smooth his hair, gazing fixedly straight ahead. Known for his wound-up, nervous-guy performances, he has a reputation as a great character actor, someone whoÕs really good in supporting roles. But here in Moonlight, heÕs the main attraction, the star. And a good measure of the movieÕs future success or failure rests on his shoulders. ÒLetÕs try one!Ó commands the assistant director, Jim LeClair. A production assistant gets on the walkie-talkie, which is patched in to the sheriffÕs deputies out on Alcoa Highway: ÒOkay guys, stop the traffic.Ó A few minutes later, Alcoa is momentarily void of the sound of speeding cars. Then the crew pauses until a helicopter flies away. ÒMatt, are we good? Yes?Ó ÒQuiet please! Lock it down!Ó ÒRolling!Ó The clapper snaps, and DiCillo calls ÒAction!Ó The camera focuses on Turturro. He gets an angry expression on his face. Snarling, he smashes his beer on the sidewalk. ÒAll right, thatÕs it, God damn it!Ó he yells, and lunges forward at the sneering Mulroney. Unfortunately, his progress is stopped by StanleyÕs fist. ÒOof!Ó grunts Turturro, buckling over. Stanley continues to ram his fist forward, dragging Turturro off camera with the momentum, no doubt to do even more damage off-screen. ÒCUT!Ó DiCillo yells. Turturro gets up. A few people clap. The cameraman begins setting up another shot, this time at a different angle. The production assistant clicks on his walkie-talkie: ÒJim and TimÑletÕs release the traffic for a few minutes, okay?Ó Jim and Tim acquiesce, and soon traffic is again whooshing by at dangerous speeds, though some drivers slow down to take a quick look. Thus the glamour of film making continues on through this very early morning of October 11Ñwhich is also the last day of shooting. After occupying Knoxville for almost five monthsÑhaving been grandly welcomed by the governor, eagerly assisted by local officials and feted by star-struck citizensÑthe movie production will soon be over. The actors and producers will jet back to New York and Los Angeles, the technicians and film equipment to Seattle; the lunch truck will head back to North Carolina. What theyÕll leave behind is a hope shared by local politicians, hoteliers and bar ownersÑthat Box of Moonlight wonÕt be the last weÕll see of movie makers, and their money, in Knoxville. The Big Idea Tom DiCillo is splayed against the built-in ÒcouchÓ of his trailer like a worn rag doll, hands resting palms up, a tired yet determined expression on his face. Through the thin walls of the decidedly un-homey trailerÑhis very first after directing two filmsÑcome the dull thuds of carpenters and the shouts of technicians, sounding like roustabouts in a circus. ÒLast night was one of the toughest nights IÕve ever had on any set,Ó confesses DiCillo, who shot eight films (including Jim JarmuschÕs trend-setting Stranger Than Paradise) as a cinematographer before becoming a director. ÒEvery instinct in my body told me to jump on this [unnamed] person and beat the shit out of them. Literally. I was prepared to get in there and rip their throat out. That was what I wanted to do. Instead, I had to smile and go back to work.Ó It could have been a scene from his most recent, critically acclaimed film, Living In Oblivion, which follows the travails of a hapless director trying to shoot an independent, low-budget film. No matter how hard he tries to remain in control, the director finds himself battling insurmountable dilemmas: technical muffs, nervous breakdowns, clueless actors with egos running amuck. And throughout the miscues, no matter how frustrating or infuriating, all he can do is smileÑand try again. ÒOn Box of Moonlight, it was like being dropped into the Pacific Ocean in the midst of a typhoon with 50-foot waves,Ó says DiCillo. ÒAnd I knew that going in. But every single thing that I thought I had in reserveÑmy knowledge of what I thought a director wasÑevaporated. I told myself, ÔThe only way IÕm getting through this is to just grit my teeth.ÕÓ And grit he has. For despite the personality conflicts, the 35-day shooting schedule (60 days would have been more appropriate), and the micro-tight $3.5 million budget, shooting Box of Moonlight in Knoxville has been the realization of a dream for DiCillo. ÒEven though this is our last night of shooting, itÕs still sort of sinking in right now that IÕve been able to make this movie,Ó he says. ÒItÕs really quite unbelievable that IÕm here.Ó The road to Knoxville began over four years ago, after DiCillo made his directoral debut with Johnny Suede, starring Brad Pitt. The offbeat little film about a pompadoured hipster and his quest for romance and rock ÕnÕ roll bombed at the box office, though it managed to win Grand Prize at the 1991 Locarno International Film Festival. DiCillo was in Japan shooting a film for two months when he began getting inklings of what his next script would be: What if his job were to be canceled early? What would he do with his extra time? Would he tell his wife, or É what? From this germ of an idea came Box of Moonlight, a story about how one man tries to redefine his own understanding of himself. Electrician Al Fountain is an orderly sort whoÕs all business. Working on a construction job in a small town for months on end, far from his wife and son in Chicago, he barely allows himself time to miss them. ItÕs not until he realizes just how much his coworkers dislike him that he begins questioning who he has become. And when the job is canceled early, instead of returning home, he sets out on a trip to relocate a fragment of his childhood: Splatchee Lake. On this quest, he is befriended by his polar opposite, a free-spirited oddball played by Sam Rockwell. Soon, heÕs doing things he never thought heÕd do, and finding a different person inside. After writing it in about two months, DiCillo was sure this highly personal film would be his next project. But it was not to be. What followed was a tug of war between financing and castingÑsometimes having the star, other times having the money, but never both. In the meantime, he made Living in Oblivion as sort of a goofÑa funny compilation of his own frustrationsÑand it became an art house hit. Ironically, this enabled him to get financing for Box of Moonlight. And now here he is, in Knoxville, finishing up the last shot of his dream project, one heÕs pursued for almost five years, his tour de force. ÒThis is the most grueling, most antithetical process to finding art that you can imagine,Ó he says. ÒArt sort of happens completely by accident when youÕre making a movie. And if youÕre lucky, youÕre there at the right moment. ItÕs been a very tense shoot.Ó Just then, a voice from outside the trailer bellows in confirmation: ÒITÕLL BE A F***ING BLOODBATH, PAL! IÕLL TELL YOU RIGHT NOW!Ó Bracing himself for his return to the directorÕs chair, DiCillo stands up, stretching. Time to nail that fight sequence É another 10 or 20 times. ÒBut when things start going together, when that little magical moment happens, itÕs like a drug,Ó he says. ÒYou cannot beat it.Ó And back out he goes. Smiling. THE MONEY FINDERS Producer Marcus Viscidi fires up another Marlboro Light as he settles at a table inside BambiÕs, safely located near the front entrance so he can make a quick getaway if need be. He takes a puff, nervously eyeing the somewhat shabby decorÑwhich, to be fair, was never designed to withstand the rigors of full overhead lighting. Marcus is chain-smoking tonight, and with good reason. HeÕs already worked a 10-hour day, and it looks like heÕll be here for another six or seven. HeÕs running on adrenaline and nicotine. On this last night of filming, Box of Moonlight has remained on schedule and relatively on budgetÑnearly an anomaly, in the film business. But itÕs still a make-or-break situation, and Marcus is clearly aiming for the former. ViscidiÕs role as producer is a complicated one. HeÕs the guy who has to make everything work, to stay within the budget, to stay on the shooting schedule, to rent the equipment, to make sure locations are working, to find a cast and crew of nearly 70 and then see that they all play nice together. When shooting wraps, it will be the culmination not only of a long day, but of a years-long struggle to get the movie made. ViscidiÑalong with co-producers Tom Bliss and Taylor McCrae, who flew in today to watch the final shootÑhas been working on the Box of Moonlight project since 1992. ÒTom [DiCillo] sent me the screenplay for Box of Moonlight in 1992, and I fell in love with it and agreed to produce it and work on raising the money for it,Ó Viscidi recalls. ÒIt took us three years. Everybody who saw the script fell in love with it, but you have to have a cast to get the financing. And every time we put together the cast, one element of the financing would fall apart. And once we got the financing back, weÕd lose the actor we had associated with the role. At different times, Fred Ward was considered for the role of Al, as was Ed Harris. And several times it was John Turturro. ÒThere was a point where we felt so frustrated about it,Ó Viscidi continues, Òthat Tom went off and wrote this 20-page short script called ÔScene Six, Take One,Õ which was the working title for Living in Oblivion. We decided to do it, and we got together $40,000, and we shot the first 22 minutes of the movie. Then, because of the success of that, we were able to raise the money to turn it into a full-length feature.Ó Enter Tom Bliss, COO of Beacon Pictures, and Taylor McCrae, an executive at the rapidly disintegrating Savoy Pictures. ÒWe had seen 10 minutes of Living in Oblivion and fell in love with it, then we fell in love with the script for Box of Moonlight,Ó says Bliss, whose full-time job prevented him from playing a hands-on role in the actual production of the film. ÒAfter weÕd seen Living in Oblivion, we knew that we were dealing with a very talented director and a very talented writer. When Beacon Pictures passed on the script, I took the project to Lakeshore Pictures because I loved it so much. And Lakeshore agreed to finance the picture.Ó The lovey-dovey attitude toward the script and DiCillo is shared by not only Viscidi and Bliss, but by the entire crew. Many say theyÕre working on the low-budget production out of love; Turturro, in fact, is working well below his ÒHollywoodÓ rate. ÒIt struck a chord in me,Ó explains Bliss, Òthe idea of people who are trapped in archetypes and are trying to express themselves outside the parameters theyÕre stuck in. Tom DiCillo has an original American voice ... I would put him in the same category as Woody Allen and Robert Altman in terms of American auteurs. HeÕs going to be producing a lot of important work over the next 50 years. ÒMost films today are more like rides than movies, but this is a film that is about something,Ó Bliss continues. ÒI wouldnÕt say it will have a mass appealÑitÕs not a big budget action film. But I think it will have a broad appeal. We think it will be wide enough to justify the investment.Ó Viscidi is far more direct in his expectations for the film. ÒI would be very happy to see this film do $20 million in terms of U.S. domestic box office,Ó he says. ÒBecause if it does $20 million domestic, then you know that it will do at least that much foreign, and maybe a third of that in home video. IÕm not looking for this film to be a blockbuster. IÕm looking for a film that is critically very well received, but that gets a wider release than Living in Oblivion. ÒBut a lot depends on marketing, and I donÕt know how it will be marketed yet,Ó he says, stubbing out one last butt before he rejoins his troops outside. ÒBut I can tell you that the Cannes Film Festival will be a big marketing tool, and that I definitely want to do.Ó And that, he notes on his way out the door, is a whole other story. Location is Everything Gary Huckabay is a friendly, clean-cut guy, obviously well liked by everyone. That is good, since until the cameras start rolling heÕs basically in charge. Walkie-talkie in hand and cellular phone firmly pressed to one ear, Huckabay was the first crew member on location at BambiÕs tonight. In fact, heÕs been the first crew member on every location, as befits his titleÑheÕs location manager for Box of Moonlight Productions. A New Orleans dweller, Huckabay spends his time traveling the country, looking for locations for moviesÑhis resume includes JFK, The Pelican Brief, Hard Target and Mad Love. And it is Huckabay that Knoxville has to thank, at least in part, for the fact that Box of Moonlight chose to film here. ÒMarcus and Tom had been thinking about this film for a long time,Ó Huckabay says. ÒWhen we started scouting around, we had three states in mind: Utah, Washington, and TennesseeÑthe Knoxville area. Then we went scouting, trying to find locations, views, and interiors that are consistent with the script.Ó Huckabay found what he was looking for in Knoxville. ÒThe script calls for not exactly a run-down look, but a seedy look,Ó Huckabay says. ÒWe werenÕt looking for that inner city glamour. We also needed a lot of countryside, and that was a big selling point for KnoxvilleÑit's beautiful, and the foliage changes late in the year here.Ó Once the decision to shoot in Knoxville was made, Huckabay teamed up with the person he calls Òthe most instrumental man on this project,Ó local independent producer Jeff Talman, who served as assistant location manager on the film. Together, the two set off to find at least five different locations for every scene. ÒWe did a lot of work on Martin Mill Pike, and it looks like something you might see in ItalyÑin fact, we called it the Italian Highway,Ó says Huckabay. ÒWe shot in a tomato patch in Strawberry Plains and it was such a clear day that you could see the Smokies. The stuff we shot at Norris Lake looks unbelievable. And we shot at a swimming hole in Greenback that was a very tranquil Adam and Eve-like setting. It was unbelievable. ItÕs probably the prettiest scene in the whole film. I know I said ÔseedyÕ before, but we really did shoot a lot of gorgeous countryside.Ó Tom DiCillo, who made the final decision to shoot here, shares the sentiment: ÒI just loved the rolling hills and the woods, and the green pastures. It seemed to me to evoke an America slightly primeval, before the Europeans came. We have a character who is dressed up in a Davy Crockett costume, who lives in a trailer with one whole side open to the woods. I wanted the woods to almost serve as a character. And I was able to do that here.Ó Outside of problems with the weather and what Talman calls Òthe obligatory run-ins with three or four assholes,Ó the film crew had an easy row to hoe. From city administrators to county farmers, Knoxvillians have all bent over backwards to accommodate the film makers. ÒWeÕve had a good experience here because a lot of this stuff is completely untapped,Ó says Huckabay. ÒIt hasnÕt been shot yet, or used, or seen. And the people here have been exceptionally responsive and cooperativeÑtheyÕre not jaded. In fact, IÕve shot all over the country and this is probably the most receptive community IÕve ever worked inÑfrom the film commission to the production community, to the mayorÕs office.Ó ÒWe live in an area where people are not suspicious of honest smiles,Ó Talman concludes. ÒI mean, we would end up in a number of locations where weÕd want to park our vehicles and equipment, and people would say, ÔOkay, we donÕt care about the money, but what weÕd like you to do is not to swear or drink on our property.Õ I have complete respect for people who the first thing on their minds is not money, but something else.ÕÓ That something else, perhaps, is the chance to be immortalized on film for the world to see. Exactly what it will see will be designed by one person. The "KNOXVILLE" Look ItÕs 1 a.m. and thereÕs unrest among the cast of extras scattered in various stages of exhaustion around the bar inside BambiÕs. TheyÕre a motley crew, uniformly dressed to look like redneck rubes, resplendent in camouflage jackets, muscle tees, worn flannel and acid-washed denim. TheyÕre griping about the hours (theyÕve been here since 4 p.m. and are likely to be here until 6 a.m.), theyÕre griping about the repetition, theyÕre griping that their prop beer cans are repeatedly filled with SharpÕs. But, mostly, theyÕre griping about their outfits. ÒLook at me, would you?Ó says Jordan Nasser, who is busy zipping and unzipping his atrocious gray and black parachute pants to create what he hopes will be a harlequin effect. ÒI look like I stepped out of a Boy George video.Ó Nasser, who also sports an inadequately filled-out tank top and a formerly trendy painterÕs cap worn backwards, has production designer Therese DePrez to thank for his new look. Along with Huckabay, DePrezÑa strikingly tall New Yorker frequently decked out in Spandex pants and high-heeled sneakersÑwas one of the first of the crew to arrive in Knoxville. Her job, simply put, is to control the way everything in the movie will look. To do that, she has spent the last several months combing thrift stores, garage sales, and rummage sales, frequently drawing the attention of local bargain shoppers simply by the sheer volume of, well, crap that sheÕs bought. Here, in Box of Moonlight, sheÕs putting that crap to good use. ÒI was going for a timeless look,Ó she says. ÒI didnÕt want to know what year we were in, I didnÕt want to know that we were in the South. But I really wanted to use a lot of plastics, a lot of colors, and a lot ofÑnot kitschyÑbut very contemporary bad taste. If anything, the look is very Õ80s, when the whole plastic, corporate logo look started to come in.Ó DePrez says she was seeking to create a white trash ambiance of a certain kind: ÒWe didnÕt want the movie white trash, like the Natural Born Killers kind of white trash. We wanted to be a lot more realistic than that.Ó For the most part, DePrez was able to find everything she needed to create that look right here in Knoxville. She was even able to find her inspiration. ÒOne of the things we did in pre-production was go to a Smoky Mountain Wrestling match, and we took inspiration from that via wardrobe, haircuts, and graphics,Ó she says, giggling at the memory. ÒThat was the apogee of our design right there. It just hit usÑthis was the look we were trying to capture.Ó HOME MOVIES On August 23 the announcement was made. The television crews were there, a few newspaper reporters and photographersÑheck, even a radio reporter. The ragtag members of the Knoxville media had gathered right smack in the airy concourse of the Hyatt Regency to record the gory sight of politicians taking credit for everything they could think of. Gov. Don Sundquist began the chain of self-congratulation upon announcing KnoxvilleÕs impending future as a film site. ÒThis announcement represents yet another milestone in TennesseeÕs effort to become a major venue for entertainment production,Ó Sundquist declared. ÒBesides the natural excitement that surrounds a film production, this project will bring economic and tourist development to East Tennessee. I especially commend my friend, Mayor Victor Ashe, for having the foresight to establish a Film Commission in Knoxville two years ago and for supporting both the cityÕs effort and the stateÕs in the recruitment of this important film project.Ó Whether or not Mayor AsheÕs foresight two years ago actually led to landing the Box of Moonlight production is debatableÑtechnically speaking, KnoxvilleÕs film commission is only an informal and unfunded group of interested local production types. But how important, really, will the movie be in breaking Knoxville out as a good place to shoot films? Meredith ZamskyÑwho as line producer for Box of Moonlight was the key person making deals, hiring locals, and locating equipmentÑhas perhaps the best perspective on how KnoxvilleÕs film community might develop. ÒItÕs a beautiful area, and the people are very accommodating. We felt very welcome to be shooting in the community,Ó she says. ÒI think Knoxville can develop its film community. But I also think that there are a fairly limited amount of resources in the area in terms of equipment and people. If someone were to ask me how I loved working in the Knoxville area, I would have to tell them that the area is beautiful, and youÕll get great shots. However, you have to be prepared to bring a lot of your crew and equipment in. And itÕs expensive to do that.Ó Producer Viscidi agrees. ÒIÕll be brutally honest,Ó he says. ÒThere are not enough people for a production to be based here without all these people coming in from the outside. You donÕt necessarily need a full crew here, but you do need a little more of a base.Ó Bruce Adams, Vice President of Bandit Lights, was instrumental in working with Viscidi and DiCillo in the early stages of the film. HeÕs devoted the last five years of his life, he says, to helping our city develop its film community, and is the Knoxville film commission's point man. And he agrees with Viscidi. ÒWe have a very strong production community here,Ó he says. ÒWe just donÕt have much depth. We might have everybody it takes to shoot a film hereÑwe have plenty of top-notch grips and electricians, for example. But Box had trouble finding grips and electricians because everybody here is working. We have the basic infrastructure, but we need more depth, all the way acrossÑthe people, the equipment, and the ancillary services like honey wagons [portable toilets], animal trainers and stuntmen.Ó Just how that kind of growth might be realized is a little cloudy. But one thing for sure is that further commitment and funds at the state and local levels are needed to take the Greater Knoxville Area Film Commission from concept to a reality. ÒOur primary goal,Ó says Adams, Òis to find funding in order to set up a permanent position for a film commissioner here in East TennesseeÑsomebody who would be actively calling producers and trying to attract films to this area.Ó ÒI see a slow but very steady growth in the industry in this area,Ó Adams continues. ÒOnce we have a full-time film commissioner, weÕll see more productions coming here. By more productions coming here, weÕll see growth in our labor pool. WeÕll have more people going into film production because they are exposed to it. And weÕll have people coming here from other places, people who might say, ÔHey, East Tennessee is a great place to live and their production community is growing.Õ I think we have every bit as much potential as Wilmington or Florida.Ó Mark Levine, full-time location coordinator with the Tennessee Film Commission, sees it this way: ÒItÕs that chicken and egg thing. You canÕt get the jobs until you get the crew, and you canÕt get the crew until you get the jobs. ThereÕs no denying that we have some gaps to fill. But itÕs turning around in East Tennessee.Ó Levine has concrete evidence to back that statement up, though heÕs cagey about the details. ÒI canÕt tell you too much because IÕve seen productions walk away from the area because of the press,Ó he says. ÒBut there are at least a half-dozen possible projects looking at East Tennessee right nowÑand I say possible because you never know for sure until the first frame of film rolls through the gate. I can say that Tri-Star has scouted the area recently, and Disney is interested in filming a couple of projects over that way.Ó Adams thinks word of mouth is KnoxvilleÕs best form of publicity, and he thinks that Box of Moonlight will generate plenty. ÒI believe they found it very easy to do a movie here. I think they came in on budget,Ó he says. 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