With both Sundance and now Berlin behind me and no big distribution deal in the works, I felt the emotional equivalent of having the tendons behind my knees cut. There was nothing to do but to accept my situation. Hey we weren't going to sell off the rights to just anybody.
I flew from Berlin to Brooklyn to meet Frank and Mr. Green and we headed back for two more months in the suburbs of Osaka, Mr. Green to finish out his guest professorship, me to my exile with Frank.
Frank learning to walk
Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t that I didn’t love Japan. Visually, gastronomically and culturally, it's one of my favorite places. The cleanliness alone makes me feel more relaxed and safe than almost anywhere I’ve ever been. It was the combination of not speaking the language, being in a suburb without a friend and this active one-year old for my constant companion which made the experience a little like being exiled to Mars.
I settled in for the duration, resigned to the fact that my film just might not get distributed. And I set right to work on a revenge action plan: whenever Frank went to sleep I would work on the script for my second feature. It would be a comedy about the incredible loneliness of marriage and motherhood, the dashed expectations of my highest hopes and dreams. But this next film would not be made on a shoestring. At the very least, I’d need a budget for a babysitter, and anyway, to insure distribution, we’d need a star - so we’d have a budget of millions. When it opened to rave reviews, everyone would be clamoring for my first feature, How To Be Louise. I’d show them.
We toured a little around Japan.
With students of Kagoshima University on a boat in front of Sakurajima, one of the most active volcanoes in the world. The towns on either side of the volcano share ash-removal equipment depending on where the prevailing wind is depositing the ash.
In April, we headed back to the States. The first stop was the San Francisco International Film Festival.
My to die for papier maché earrings were made by an artist in Berlin.
I’d been reading about David Lynch’s new hit television show Twin Peaks which hadn’t been available in Japan. We watched an episode in our hotel room, aptly named I thought, the Queen Anne Hotel. I scoured the San Francisco phone book to see if there were any Flournoys. It was fun to be back in the US.
The festival gave an elegant lunch for the indie filmmakers where I met Wayne Wang, whose Chan Is Missing had been a huge inspiration. Peter Scarlet, the Director of the festival, told me that HTBL had a very high audience rating (I think he said it was the second most popular!!) and that a radio station wanted to interview me. It was all happening so effortlessly. Things were looking up!
I’d never done a live interview but figured I’d be all right as I love to talk if I know the subject matter which, in this case, I certainly did. Mr. Green and Frank and I went over to the radio station in Berkeley.
Halfway into the interview, the radio show host managed to render me speechless: “You know, I was watching a screener of your film with my girlfriend the other night and she remarked: “This is actually a portrait of codependency!” Panic engulfed me. Codependency? I wanted to change the subject immediately but, overwhelmed by fear and then suddenly by anger, was afraid to open my mouth. And well I didn't: A portrait of codependency? My film is a comedy! You make it sound like a mental health tract! And why is your girlfriend even qualified to comment? You know you're probably turning away potential viewers! ARE YOU SAYING I HAVE ISSUES?
I have no idea what I did say out loud (if anything) after his 'observation'.
So as we walked away from the radio station, I asked Mr. Green how it went. He winced. And then his face froze in the wince: “Well…” He made that little twisting motion with his hand like he was unscrewing a candle flame light bulb sticking down from the ceiling. I'm not exactly sure what he was saying. And come to think of it, I still don't really want to know.
(to be continued)
Guaranteed to give you a thrill: click the ‘Like’ button to see what I’m talking about.