Released

January 21st, 2015

Paul here.

I’m honored to announce that Something, Anything was released digitally today in partnership with the Sundance Institute. The film is available for purchase and/or rent on iTunes and Google Play immediately and will be released on Amazon in the near future. It’s also now available on Vimeo On Demand.

The head of the trail where we filmed our first shots.

The head of the trail where we filmed our first shots.

I started writing this film in earnest in late 2009. Soon thereafter Ashley Maynor joined the journey. Then, starting in 2011, many others came along to help bring it to life. We worked on it, on and off, for a long time before it finally premiered in April 2014. It took so long to make that we joked that it wasn’t a film; it was a lifestyle. And when we were making it we honestly had no idea if anyone would ever see it. That’s the truth.

Since last April I have had the remarkable fortune to travel with the film, meeting and talking with people who have been touched by it. Earlier this month the film screened for a week in New York and was reviewed, warmly, by critics and publications I’ve read for years. And, now, today it has been released out into the world. Anyone that wants it can download it now.

Thinking about this movie’s digital ones and zeros — files that were stored only on my solitary computer for so long — now transferring through wires and cables onto others’ computers, maybe even your own… It is very strange. It is also a little bittersweet. But mostly what I feel is a kind of sweet relief, which I can only liken to the feeling you get when you finally sit down after hiking through the woods for a long, long time.


Something, Anything: Screenings and Screen Forward Guests

January 3rd, 2015

We’re very excited about Something, Anything‘s Screen Forward run in New York at IFP’s Made in NY Media Center. Opening night is Friday, January 9 and it runs daily through Thursday, January 15.

 

Follow this link to purchase tickets!

We’ll be having several special guests join us after the screenings to discuss films and filmmaking. Below are several trailers and other links so that you can learn more about our guests, in case you’re not familiar with them.

 

FRIDAY, JANUARY 9 @ 7:30 PM

Something, Anything followed by a Q+A moderated by filmmaker Daniel Carbone of Hide Your Smiling Faces

 

SATURDAY, JANUARY 10 @ 2:00 PM and 4:30 PM

Following the 4:30 PM screening there will be a roundtable discussion featuring producers Ashley Maynor (Something, Anything), Summer Shelton (Little Accidents),  Lucas Joaquin (The Heart Machine, Love Is Strange), and Tory Lenosky (Keep the Lights On).

 

 

 

SUNDAY, JANUARY 11 @ 2:00 PM 

Post-screening conversation on Contemplative & Spiritual Cinema, with writer/director Paul Harrill and Caveh Zahedi (The Sheik and I; actor, Waking Life) and filmmaker and critic Dan Sallitt (The Unspeakable Act).

 

MONDAY, JANUARY 12 @ 3:00 PM 

Post-screening conversation between Something, Anything cinematographer Kunitaro Ohi and cinematographer Daryl Pittman (White Reindeer).

 

TUESDAY, JANUARY 13 @ 7:30 PM 

Followed by a post-screening Q+A with writer/director Paul Harrill, producer Ashley Maynor, and lead actress Ashley Shelton. Moderated by film critic Alissa Wilkinson, who interviewed Paul Harrill about Something, Anything for Christianity Today. Read the interview here.

 

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 14 @ 7:30 PM 

Tennessee Film Night with writer/director Paul Harrill, producer Ashley Maynor and fellow makers of movies set/shot/connected to the Volunteer State — Tim Sutton (Memphis) and John Henry Summerour (Sahkanaga). 

 

 


A New Documentary: The Story of the Stuff – Coming April 2015

December 14th, 2014

An image from Newtown, CT.

Today, on the second anniversary of the Sandy Hook School shooting, we are announcing Self-Reliant Film’s upcoming web documentary, which will be released online this spring.

Entitled The Story of the Stuff, the documentary — using video, audio, images and text — tracks what happens to more than half a million letters, 65,000 teddy bears, and hundreds of thousands of other packages, donations, and condolence items sent to Newtown, Connecticut, in the wake of the Sandy Hook shooting. 

As I worked with residents of Newtown to tell this story, I was vigilant to resist exploiting this horrific tragedy by digging into the violence of that day. This is not a story about violence; it is a story about what we do after violence. 

The story has a deeply personal connection. 

On April 16, 2007, I was at work, managing a Blacksburg, Virginia, art house cinema when a shooter murdered 32 students and faculty at Virginia Tech. It is the deadliest mass shooting in modern US history. 

In the days, weeks, months, and years that followed April 16th (I later went on to teach filmmaking at Virginia Tech from 2008-2012), I witnessed firsthand the growing phenomenon in global culture that we’ve seen everywhere from Oklahoma City to Columbine, from Aurora to the Boston Marathon bombing: After a tragedy is covered in graphic detail by the news media, there comes a massive public outpouring of sympathy, most often in the form of physical expressions of grief—for lack of a better term, the “stuff.”

Votive candles, flowers, teddy bears, Hallmark cards—these come en masse. Giant posterboards, personalized gifts, hand-written letters, and painstakingly handmade artworks—the range and scope of materials is extraordinary. 

But the tidal wave of “stuff” poses an added burden for the recipient community and the questions are countless: Where does all the stuff go? Who should handle it? Should any of it be kept forever? Where and for what purpose?

Ever since my experience at Virginia Tech, these questions have fascinated me — as a filmmaker, as a practicing librarian, and as one who has grieved—up close and at a distance—for those lost.

The Story of the Stuff, then, is an investigation into our American culture of consumption and remembrance. The way we represent, remember, and respond to such tragedies has much to teach us about ourselves, our memories, and our grief. 

I hope you’ll join us in exploring these questions when we release The Story of the Stuff on April 16, 2015—the eighth anniversary of that fateful day that changed my life forever and inspired this new work. 

— Ashley Maynor


Sabbatical (Brandon Colvin, 2014)

April 21st, 2014

Paul here.

While I’ve been traveling for the first series of Something, Anything film festival screenings, I’ve caught up with a few films, though not nearly as many as I would like to have seen. Of all of them, I was inspired to write a few words about Brandon Colvin’s Sabbatical, which I saw in Wisconsin at its World Premiere.

I rarely make time to write out-and-out reviews, but I wanted to put my thoughts down on this one for three reasons: First, I’ve thought about a good deal in the three weeks since I’ve seen it. Second, it is a “difficult” film, and because of that I fear it will face some (unfair) challenges on the festival circuit. And third, I have seen few other people writing about the film. My words certainly aren’t going to convince a curator to program the film, but I believe the film merits a serious look and this is my way of sharing that.

xxx

Sabbatical (Brandon Colvin, 2014)

Brandon Colvin’s Sabbatical, which had its World Premiere at the Wisconsin Film Festival, was described in the fest catalog as an “unapologetically rigorous work.” It does not fail to deliver on that promise.

The film’s story concerns Ben (Robert Longstreet), a religious studies professor who returns to care for his ailing mother. During his time back home he reconnects with people from his past — an estranged friend (Thomas Jay Ryan) and Sarah (Rhoda Griffis), a former lover. Describing the film in this way, however, is misleading because the film’s characters and dramatic arc are secondary to the film’s austere formalist concerns.

Sabbatical consists of some 60-odd shots over the course of its 72 minutes with most of the scenes existing as single, static long takes. (At least two of these last over 5 minutes.) In the entire film I can only recall two instances of camera movement. There are many, many shots (or “scenes” — as I said, there’s hardly any distinction between the two) in which we see characters only from behind. And the actors, truly performing in the mode of Bressonian models, speak in virtual monotone. Throughout, the film steadfastly denies us the things we typically expect to see or hear in more mainstream cinema.

While Bresson obviously looms large as an inspiration here, because of its single-shot-per-scene approach I was also reminded of Jon Jost’s work and, though it’s a bit of a stretch, even Hollis Frampton’s classic of structural filmmaking, [nostalgia]. Regardless of who one thinks of, audiences that have some cinematic references to draw upon will undoubtedly find themselves more engaged with the film than those who read a logline and expect to see a sensitive family drama. Within two or three scenes/shots you understand how Colvin will tell the tale, and I suspect at that point you’re either with it or you’re against it. The woman sitting next to me at the world premiere was, it’s probably fair to say, against it. Me? I was with it. (So, too, were the many people who stayed afterward for the Q&A.)

One can’t expect complete success with any film, and you certainly can’t with a film that feels like such an experiment for its creator and cast. There are a few moments one feels the actors struggling to perform in the same, flattened register, for instance. Sometimes, too, the images feel more mannered than rigorous. Still, in moments like the film’s final scene, or a scene where Ben discovers his mother is unconscious the starkness and purity of the film’s approach works in harmony with its themes of separation and loss. Best of all was what I consider the film’s centerpiece, an indelible scene of loneliness and tenderness between Ben and Sarah at a kitchen table. It’s a sequence that, three weeks after seeing it, continues to haunt me.

Beyond its literal reference to the main character’s break from work, Sabbatical‘s title has a deeper meaning. The origin of the word literally means “a ceasing”, and denial is at the heart of this film — the affection people deny to each other, the denial of death, and above all, perhaps, the denial of the typical pleasures of narrative cinema for something else. In Sabbatical Brandon Colvin challenges his viewers to look deeper, and I found the investment of time, of attention, rewarding.


Something, Anything – World Premieres

March 14th, 2014

Something, Anything
Ashley Maynor and I spent a lot of time — a lot of sweat, a lot of love, a lot of pain — making SOMETHING, ANYTHING. More than either of us have ever put into a movie. Years. Friends of ours have raised infants to preschoolers in the time it’s taken us to make this film. This film has been our baby.

Not surprisingly, as we finished the film we did a lot of thinking about where we would want to premiere it. We knew wanted it to be a festival with a lot of integrity, both in the films they select, and the way they treat their filmmakers. Path

So we asked a lot of filmmaker friends, and we researched. What festivals were taking risks on premiering and screening films that we admired in the last few years? (Films like The Unspeakable ActThis is Martin Bonner, and The Color Wheel, among many, many others.)

And two festivals kept coming up again and again: the Sarasota Film Festival and the Wisconsin Film Festival.

So we shared SOMETHING, ANYTHING with programmers Tom Hall (Sarasota) and Jim Healy (Wisconsin). And we crossed our fingers. These guys look at thousands of films a year. I don’t know how they do it, honestly. For the sections that we’d be eligible for, they maybe take a dozen films.

The fact that both of these programmers — who we admire so much, and whose festivals are beacons of daring programming — separately selected SOMETHING, ANYTHING for their respective festivals… well, to call it gratifying would be an understatement.

We’re calling our screenings at both Wisconsin and Sarasota our “World Premiere” — a co- or dual- World Premiere, if you will. The festivals happen over the same dates, and its a way for us to signify how honored we are to have all of our hard work — and the work of so many others — to be recognized by both festivals.

Thanks for following us on the journey so far.

Something, Anything