This weekend I will serve as the producer for our film team’s participation in the 48 Hour Film Project, and I don’t know what I am doing. And I don’t say that in that modest way some people have, like “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just let the art speak through me.” No, I mean it in the “My exact duties and responsibilities are as yet unknown to me” way. So that’s a little worrisome.
My qualifications for this position are as follows:
- I can corral children at birthday parties and other structured activities without breaking a sweat. Now this is untrue. I just sweat on the inside. If I can find a way to reproduce this effect on other people, I’ll be rich. Though I am still working on Advil to adopt my Preventative Advil method as a campaign, with no luck. It is possible, however, that taking charge of children and taking charge of actors is a pretty close fit. (Just kidding, actors)
- I’ve participated in almost all of the films so far. This is true, but not as helpful as it might seem. I have suggested scenes, dialogue, and editing choices. I have also acted in a few. I have also hosted the crew as they took over my house, the hungry parasites. (Just kidding, crew)
- I said that I would do it. By far the most important reason I am producer of this film, is my simple some would say naive willingness to do it. No one else wanted to, and so it fell to me. Most women when they marry expect to lose their husbands to golf or watching sports. But not me, no, my husband developed a penchant for making short films and by making, I mean writing, filming, editing, and scoring in two days. That iPod is feeling pretty well-deserved right about now. In fact, it seems like I was bought off rather cheaply. (Just kidding, Bill)