By Jeremiah Kipp and Preston Miller

[Editor's Note: The following is the tenth in a series of on-set reports by producer Jeremiah Kipp on God's Land, a feature film written and directed by Preston Miller, whose previous feature, Jones, was covered by The House Next Door here (review), here (interview), and here (podcast).]

Part I: Days Eighteen & Nineteen (Jeremiah Kipp)

The final days of principal photography are upon us. God's Land has been a long haul, exhausting but ultimately rewarding—it reminds me of when I used to run marathons. At a certain point in the middle of the run, the mind concentrates only on moving forward; as the finish line nears, there's a surge of renewed energy.

Preston and I enjoy our location scouting in New Jersey, where we stumble across the perfect location for our hotel scenes. The King's Inn has an outside décor that resembles a pyramid converted into a NASA space shuttle by way of 1950s Americana kitsch. In other words, we took one look at it and knew it was Preston's cup of tea. The hotel owners were reasonable and supportive of low budget independent cinema, though they did enjoy telling long anecdotes about how MTV shot there, and the abundance of trucks and lights and personnel. Preston smiles, acknowledges the grandeur, and tries to make it clear that our mom and pop operation is nothing like that. We're small potatoes!

The hotel shoot is an all-day affair. Shing Ka, who isn't in many scenes, spends most of the day taking pictures and making plans for the second unit photography he and Preston are going to do in Garland, Texas. Yes, the actual, real-life location where Teacher Chen's cult had their 15 minutes of infamy. They're excited about it, and when Shing is asked about why he's taken on this extra level of responsibility, even paying for his own ticket to Garland, he responds that this project has become very personal for him. He's invested a lot into this character and project, and has brought so much passion to the work.

I have to laugh when I think back to his audition, believing Shing was more of an action movie guy. My exact words were, "If we need a hitman, let's cast him!" As an actor, he has been typecast as a tough guy, since he exudes a kind of aloof strength. But watching him embody the role of Hou, it reminds me of the possibilities of what actors can bring, and the frustrating limitations of being typecast. Shing has had the opportunity to break out of the mold with this role, to do something different, more dramatic; it's allowed him to paint with more colors than usual. And he and Preston have become friends along the way. Preston even has a saying that has become one of our on-set mantras: "It's good to be Shing!"

***
We shoot some scenes in the hotel lobby, and the staff is easy to work around. It's a slow weekday, and they let us know the hours when they have the least amount of customer service. We film scenes involving the Indian hotel owner (Ranjit Chowdhry, who has a recurring role on The Office and has appeared in such films as Mississippi Masala and Fire) and his pal Ostaro, who plays himself. Ostaro is an older gentleman who acts, directs, has celebrity friends, and offers life changing self-improvement through astrology. They watch the Asian cult press conference on television together while Ostaro bemoans, "What a load of bull!" and rambles on at great length about why this is a bunch of silly nonsense.

Ranjit is a pro, slightly testy and slightly curious about this low-budget shoot, since he's used to working on much bigger projects. As an actor, he hits his marks and tries to offer subtle variations in his performance with each take. He's meticulous in asking rigorous questions of Preston, so even if he walks through a door, he wants some precise direction as to his motivation. While Preston's style of directing often feels more like he's making a documentary and tapping into qualities within the real person he's filming, he's able to shift into Ranjit's more "actor's studio" temperament. It all works out fine, and Ranjit even brags about working with a crew of six later in the week when he's on a bigger show. "What do we need all these people for?" he wonders aloud, and is reminded that Stanley Kubrick often used a crew of six when he was shooting certain scenes of Eyes Wide Shut.

On the other side of the solar system is Ostaro, who is more of a force of nature than an actor. His performance is incredibly funny, and he's a good sport about munching on a bunch of potato chips as his character rambles on, but he relies heavily on the script in his lap when we're filming his medium shots. When we switch to the wide shot coverage, Ostaro seems totally lost and unable to remember his lines, even after reciting them a dozen times. Ranjit is impatient to carry on with the scene, and sighs audibly. He's worked with Ostaro before, so they have an entire dog and pony show together. I say the hell with it and create GIGANTIC CUE CARDS on the fly, holding them up and saying, "Hey, Ostaro! Read this! Roll camera!" Ostaro is happy, Ranjit is happy, Preston is happy—and we roll.

The lobby scenes offer some technical challenges—white walls, glass partitions that reflect, and crappy lighting. We're happier to be shooting inside the hotel room, where a handful of family scenes take place. Preston's favorite one to shoot is of the family's first arrival in Garland, Texas, where Xiu (Jodi Lin) haughtily examines the new surroundings, kills a cockroach with her cigarette, and glares at her husband (who is resigned to being in the doghouse) while their son Ollie (Matthew Chiu) happily jumps up and down on the bed, having fun. The husband-wife tension in contrast to the oblivious, cheerfully gymnastic kid amuses Preston to no end.

***
Our final day of principal photography is a relatively easy one, shot in a controlled environment. Preston has set-decorated one of his bedrooms for the hotel owner and his wife, played by the delightful Geeta Citygirl (who appeared with Jodi Lin onstage in Chuck Mee's Queens Boulevard). Geeta and Preston have a lively discussion about the character, and also about Geeta's considerable efforts in supporting minority actors through her theater company, sponsoring events, and securing jobs for Indian actors. It's easy to see why she's so popular in the community; she has a buoyant personality, a winning smile, and determination in her eyes. She was involved in helping Preston cast Ranjit and Ostaro, and he's profoundly grateful to her. Geeta remains modest about her considerable efforts, and on set she's as much a pro as Ranjit.

They blaze through their one scene together very quickly, and before you know it, we're wrapped on principal photography!

***
Preston still has a few more pickup shots of various characters, but it amounts to less than a page of the script and the shooting days aren't even "days" but more like the thirty minutes it takes to bang out a shot. For example, he filmed actress Gloria Diaz working out on a treadmill, and it went very quickly. Preston is more or less self-sufficient from here on in, and my on-set production work is officially done on God's Land.

But now we move on to post-production, and as an executive producer once told me, "Now the real work begins!" Already, we're discussing music rights and how to track them down. Preston has been diligently cutting the picture, and is about 45 minutes into his first assembly. He seems happy with the work we've done, and when I catch a few glimpses of the opening of the picture, I can see the rough spots (the first assembly always feels a little rough), but also feel he has a compelling picture on his hands, with emotional impact and great acting. The shifts between comedy and drama keep the movie feeling loose and unpredictable; I have a feeling it's going to be a pretty wild ride, because just when we are settling into amusement at the antics of the cult, Preston throws in a powerhouse scene, sometimes conveyed in a very simple shot, that shakes our complacency. They say a director's personality informs his films. That's certainly true here. His style of filmmaking, a cross between documentary, absurdity and art-house, feels very present in the footage.

And there you have it. It's been enjoyable writing these production diaries throughout the making of God's Land, which provides a frame of reference for the joys and struggles of no-budget independent filmmaking. I'm grateful to the cast and crew for their candor throughout, and their talent. But mostly, I'm thankful to Preston Miller for bringing me aboard this wild, exhilarating ride. He's been a real brother, partner and friend. And finally, thank you for following our making-of anecdotes; we hope not to deceive you with the finished product. Watch for updates on screenings of God's Land in 2010. Happy trails.

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Part II: Last Days (Preston Miller)

In and around the completion of principal photography, other shooting also commenced. Mainly there were what we call "the press conference scenes." These are the eight or nine scenes of supporting, non-cult characters that appear in the film watching an on-going press conference before the main Hou family arrives in Garland. I thought that this was a nifty way to see how folks in the Garland community reacted to the group's existence and final proclamation. Some were worried or amused; others just ignored them altogether. We were able to broaden these characters a bit, perhaps to show different shades of them outside of their primary interaction with the religious group.

For these shoots, each lasting a couple of hours, I generally was the camera and boom operator. The actor(s) and myself would set the frame and I would set up the on-screen monitor connection with a DVD player or laptop playing a pre-recorded "press conference." Generally, the players and I would look over the scenes as written and then improvise, sometimes completely altering the page. These were some of the most enjoyable, liberating experiences for me on the shoot. Similar to the working style on my previous film Jones, the ideas and sense of play were anxiety free, especially since the shooting didn't last long, there was no pressure to 'move on,' and our number only occasionally exceeded three.

Moments: Carrie Kiamesha's luminosity while humming gospel riffs in the loft of our costume director, Sharon Spiak. Gloria Diaz working out on a gym treadmill with a bum knee, lost as to "ACTION" and "CUT!" Mrs. Ka, Shing's mom, tsk-tsking the cult while sitting under a huge picture of herself and family from over 40 years ago. Nancy Eng breaking us up trying to do whatever it takes to get her off-screen husband to come downstairs and see the cult on the widescreen. All these add a texture that will realize something fuller in the performers' interpretations.

***
The end of principal photography has come and gone and with it the warm glow of expectations surpassed tempers into the feeling of sitting in a big bowl of your own cold porridge. The idea that now it's just you, the computer and hundreds of clips which need to be logged, sorted, judged, ordered and bent is not one that produces easy sleep. To me, this is part of the game, just as grueling as shooting but perhaps even more rewarding. At this point you are closer to completion, to moving on, to catching up on movies, to sleep... But for some the sacrifice must continue, especially my family. They have been most tolerant and supportive of my folly and given up a great deal of their time to help see this through. Now I may not be out shooting, but, upstairs in full edit mode, I'm just as inaccessible.

Then why me and not someone else? I have had offers from other folks to help with the edit, but I honestly feel too important to the process. I was there for every frame that was shot and didn't take but a handful of notes. Plus, editing—next to directing—is my favorite aspect of the process. With apologies to Tarkovsky, editing really does feel like 'sculpting in time.' I have been editor for some time off and on since I was in college, so it comes somewhat naturally (when there is time).

If we use the tired metaphor that making a film is like having a baby, I hope lil' GL is not born with the proverbial peanut-in-the-head. For me that peanut would be too much attention being foisted on its obvious budgetary modesty. "They did the best with what they had...bless 'em" is like saying that your kid's pronounced limp will be an inspiration to others... Yes lil' GL certainly has its own aesthetic benefits, many of which are intentional, but I tried the very best I could to not allow the lack of funds to be a limitation or a distraction. While I edit, I am not so enamored with lil' GL that I can't see that some of the shots and scenes would score him in the lower percentile. I just hope that the strengths of other elements outshine the weaker ones. I think they do, but ultimately that is for the viewer to decide.

***
When I asked Jeremiah about a year and a half ago if he would read the script and be interested in producing, we sat at a bar table and had a defining exchange. He drew a big, fat ZERO on a pad and slowly pushed it in my direction and said, "This is how much money I can bring to the project." I looked down and gently pushed the pad back and said "and this is how much I can pay you..." From there we had an understanding that this project would be a labor of passion and that we were free to make a film that would contribute to our unspoken oath of 'Quality Cinema.' I want to thank JK for coming along and being an invaluable partner, consigliore and encourager. He is unrelenting, honest and thorough. Simply put, God's Land wouldn't exist without him. His diary idea was genius. They were well written and well appreciated. I learned so much from them, maybe best of all that, if you are going to work with a producer, try to get someone who happens to be a great writer. Good luck with that!

A final word on the cast and crew: We've mentioned their respective talents in earlier entries, but I'd like to add that this was the most big-hearted and generous group I've ever worked with. People stepped in effortlessly as casting agents, boom ops, chauffeurs, craft service, location scouts and crowd control (not to mention as look-outs and impostor department store employees!). Even the parents of our child actors, the Chiu and Suen families, had no reluctance when asked to perform in front of the camera. As we go through life, working on many more sets, with many more artists, growing professionally, getting paid (!), for me there will never be a more wonderful group of HUMAN BEINGS than those that worked on God's Land. I will never be this fortunate again. We were the right crew at the right time to take on an ambitious task that finally evolved into something that will exist longer than us.

***
This is our final diary entry for the production of God's Land. I want to thank Keith Uhlich for being so kind as to post these for the House's thoughtful audience. A number of milestones have been achieved. By the time you read this we will have over 350 Facebook friends on the God's Land page (could always use more) and 1000 views for the sneak peak on YouTube. I promise, and will try to convince JK to assist when he can, to report back regarding screenings, festival news, cast and crew spottings and updates in general, but that will be a few months off. Until then, thanks for your support and look forward to an exalting 2010!

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Jeremiah Kipp's writing has appeared in Slant Magazine, Filmmaker, Fangoria and other publications.

Preston Miller is the writer/director of Jones. His website is Vindaloo Philm-Wallah.

By Jeremiah Kipp

[Editor's Note: The following is the ninth in a series of on-set reports by producer Jeremiah Kipp on God's Land, a feature film written and directed by Preston Miller, whose previous feature, Jones, was covered by The House Next Door here (review), here (interview), and here (podcast).]

Day Sixteen & Seventeen

My God, just when you feel like you've got a hold of something, or you're moving forward at a good steady clip and sense that karma is on your side, things can rapidly take a turn for the nightmarish. Day sixteen is easily, without a doubt, the worst and most painful day of shooting on God's Land. After a week of scheduling with the actors and striking out with his location scouts, our fearless director Preston Miller suggests we just go into a famous department store chain, head straight to the grocery section, and proceed to steal shots there without benefit of insurance, paperwork, clearance or permits. I'm no coward when it comes to this stuff, but it's an insane proposition when you're stealing shots involving over a half dozen actors, most of them Asian-Americans dressed in white cowboy hats, hoodies and sweatpants—and involving three pages of solid, crucial dialogue—and involving child actors—and involving said child actors crashing shopping carts together for fun. Trying to shoot something like this is just madness—maybe even stupidity. Maybe we could have done it another way; but we decided to go for it to get those scenes completed and behind us.

At this point, Preston is a man on a mission. Half the principal cast is going away for summer vacation soon. After these scenes, we have only one major location to shoot out and a handful of minor, incidental moments, many of them part of a montage. Refusing to take no for an answer, or succumb to sweet blessed reason, Preston pushes the team forward and shuttles everyone out to Long Island, directly to his house, to rehearse a grocery store sequence where Teacher Chen (Jackson Ning) shares his philosophy with Xiu (Jodi Lin) while his cult members push along shopping carts and gather whatever provisions their guru's magical ring suggests they buy. They work the scene over and over again at Preston's house.

I'm scheduled to arrive later in the day after a teaching commitment in NYC, so I miss out on Preston's stress-out. Our assistant director Alex Gavin and production manager Alex Blakeley try to keep our director on track when they arrive at the shopping mall, but after quickly blocking the scene (illegally) in a shopping aisle, Preston quickly gets overwhelmed by the sheer number of security guards and managerial staff swarming around us. It's a series of start and stop filmmaking where they hide the camera in a shopping cart and try to sneak their way through entire shots. But when you're dealing with a long, dialogue-driven scene with a cast this size, it's not easy. It moves slowly; most of the time is spent standing around waiting for the moment to shoot.

I arrive on location and already, a manager type is talking with our assistant director—I think we're busted. But no, it turns out this manager is, in fact, an actor Preston has worked with many times before named Johnny Fido—he looks the part so much, shoppers continually go up to him for information. I think at one point Johnny breaks away from us to scout out the store so he can answer their queries. Anyway, Preston has barely gotten any shots in the can, and the main one that covered the most script pages is unusable because the actor playing the cult leader's son has his hoodie unzipped with a Super Mario Brothers picture clearly visible.

I doubt Nintendo would sue Preston, since it would be like drawing blood from a stone—but any potential producer would red flag the scene because it's a lawsuit in the making. A character named Jesus who is the son of a cult leader sporting a Mario Brothers insignia is not the kind of publicity Nintendo wants, frankly. Preston will either have to (a) not use the shot, from his very limited coverage, (b) blur out the t-shirt COPS style, or (c) use the reverse angle as a master. Preston's response is a bitter round of cursing and expletives, not directed at anyone but himself. We can't reshoot because the security guards and managers have closed in on us, and a tough looking female manager tells Johnny Fido, who looks the most in charge out of any of us, that shooting is not allowed here, and we can walk out of their place of business or be taken out by security.

So we leave, breaking for lunch, and Preston is a nervous wreck. He was at that location for over three hours and only has two shots to show for it, one of them possibly unusable. I am unsparing with him and say he has to pull himself together because the cast and crew look to him to see how to behave. If he is harried, they'll get nervous. If he's strong, they'll be strong for him. Preston nods his head, clearly wondering how we're going to get through this ordeal.

The next stop is a different branch of the department store chain, which has slightly smaller aisles and more staff running around—so we remain in a hostile environment, the crew moves around in circles spotting for managers in their bright red shirts, and the cast struggles to preserve their focus while filming under the miserable conditions. At one point, the assistant director and I hold up giant posters to block the aisle so Preston can film close-ups. When it's all done, Jackson claims that the whole shooting day was distracting, and he hopes he was able to deliver a full performance. I suspect he was, though—he's a dynamic actor and seems incapable of playing false.

When we go back to the controlled environment of Preston's house, we're able to quickly bang out a series of scenes and everyone has a lighter spirit about it—at least until we have scenes involving the cockroaches that our child actors Brandon and Caitylyn Suen have to stomp on, then carry into the kitchen and place on the divan. At first, they're squeamish about touching the bugs, but when Preston and I show them how harmless they are (they mostly just squirm in one's hand and try to crawl away really fast when in danger) they are fine with it, and the scene where they count the number of dead cockroaches seems like a demented version of Sesame Street: "One...two...three...four...four dead cockroaches!"

Jackson Ning has a big dramatic scene for Teacher Chen involving the cockroaches, and he complains at length about them—making up an elaborate story about their pincers and how they might burrow into his arm. Sometimes it's difficult to tell when he's being sarcastic, since he has a consummate poker face. But when the camera is ready, Jackson fearlessly uses the live insect as a prop and has a "crisis of faith/communion with God" scene that ends with him standing up and donning his cowboy hat like an old gunslinger ready to do battle—"I've still got it!" is how Jackson describes the teacher's epiphany.

The crew has a beer with Preston and we talk very little about God's Land, waxing enthusiastic about films as diverse as Kathryn Bigelow's The Hurt Locker and Jean-Luc Godard's Weekend. It feels good to have a pint or two and take a breath. Preston is back in good spirits after the shooting at his house.

The following day starts off right, with scenes shot in a Chinatown playground where our lead actor Shing Ka and I walk around asking kids if they want to be in the movie. They have to bully Ollie (Matthew Chiu) and then ignore him, sending him back to his granny (played by Shing's mother). Then it's a long road trip through Sunday beach traffic as we try to hustle out to Long Island to shoot a couple of shots inside a movie theater; alas we arrive late and the manager is furious with us, barring us from shooting at his location. It turned out to be a gigantic waste of everyone's time. But the cast and crew don't take any aggression out on Preston simply because he looks so miserable about it.

He steps away for a while, then returns to the table where we proceed to eat Chinatown dumplings and beef and pork jerky provided by Mrs. Ka. She seems the least perturbed of anyone. As a woman who has fought against city hall for union rights and rallied her neighborhood to kick the junkies out of Columbus Park, a few delays in a movie are relatively low stress for her. On the ride home from our disastrous shoot, I have an enjoyable time talking about acting with Jodi and Shing, and even though I am disappointed with the weekend, I'm reminded of the talent and dedication of the people involved; they've become friends, and it's always interesting how cast and crew form into a kind of makeshift family for the duration of a film. You learn how to go easy on one another; then you learn how not to go easy on each other; and then you go easy on each other again.

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Jeremiah Kipp's writing has appeared in Slant Magazine, Filmmaker, Fangoria and other publications.

By Jeremiah Kipp

[Editor's Note: The following is the eighth in a series of on-set reports by producer Jeremiah Kipp on God's Land, a feature film written and directed by Preston Miller, whose previous feature, Jones, was covered by The House Next Door here (review), here (interview), and here (podcast).]

Days Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen & Fifteen

We are over halfway through shooting God's Land now—and seeing light at the end of the tunnel for some of our principal actors. All of the heavy domestic scenes involving the family inside their new Texas home have been completed, most of the cult scenes are also in the can. The biggest one remaining is a dialogue scene between Teacher Chen (Jackson Ning) and Xiu (Jodi Lin) with the other members in the background. There's a series of scenes coming up involving a hotel that will be a little tricky. But this weekend, we're doing a series of small catch-ups—an assembly line of tiny moments within the film.

On day eleven, we start out with an improvised scene inside a Chinese-speaking church out on Staten Island, which we secured through lead actor Shing Ka. It wasn't even in the script, but Preston cooked up the idea of finding a random church and having the character talk to a priest. Shing's twin brother Lee, it turns out, is a pastor—and the idea of having Shing play a scene opposite someone who looks a lot like him grows on us. Preston has them create a scene where Shing's character visits the church having a crisis of faith, and when the pastor approaches him, the conversation is about whether or not you've truly felt the call of God, and what to do if your family does not share your beliefs.

Lee sits one row behind his brother, and there's a strange effect to the scene because of the uncanny resemblance between the brothers, as if Shing's conscience is reaching out to him. Preston likes the scene very much, and feels like they're grappling with the themes of the movie. Lee is modest about it, since he's answering questions not in character, but as himself—he truly did hear the calling and is trying to help someone as he would in his real life role as a pastor.

Afterward, we take a drive out to Central Park for a quick scene near the end of the movie, where Shing throws a rock into a pond coated in algae. It's easy to film; more memorable to Preston because he spent many days searching for a pool of water with the right amount and texture of rich green algae coating the water. I find myself not fully invested in the scene, not because of what's happening onscreen (it's quite poetic) but because I have an appointment that evening for my new teaching job at a film school and we're pushing our luck with my available time. I make it to my appointment with only two minutes to spare. Such is the nature of making movies on a staggered schedule—it tends to interfere with your normal routine.

The next day, our first scene is a confessional moment between Shing and Jodi, where she surrenders herself to her husband's will and he embraces her, promising never to hurt her. The big question of the scene is whether Shing will be naked, since he steps out of the shower to face her. "He is a method actor, after all!" someone says. But since Preston's shot is framed from the waist up, the point is moot, and he wears swimming trunks for the scene. The bigger issue turns out to be hot water—the boiler makes an annoying humming sound sometimes while the actors are trying to play the scene, and sometimes the hot water comes out scalding, either too warm or too cold. And on top of that, Shing has to stand on a plastic baby seat covered in towels in order to be the correct height for the scene (on a normal film we'd use apple boxes or something, but the closest thing available was the baby seat—sometimes filmmaking enters the realm of the surreal or the absurd). Despite all those silly challenges, the actors commit to the moment and it's a poignant scene.

That completes our emotional heavy lifting for the night, and we get through it quick, moving on to some night shooting—I've mentioned before about the rigors and pain of night shooting, but these shots (while time consuming) are a little easier. We pick up some close-ups of the family standing on the lawn at night and two full scenes involving ESL teacher Maria (Gloria Diaz), one where she has dialogue with Jodi (Preston's next door neighbor has been endlessly accommodating about letting us use her house even after she's gone to bed) and the other where she is harassed by a local drunk. This ne'er do well is played by our director, who comfortably settles into an ignorant, backwoods drawl; and acting as director for this take is Shing, who offers feedback more on the actors' placement within the frame, which he is decidedly particular about. Preston and Gloria have fun with it, but inevitably we wind up shooting a lot more takes on this because our director isn't behind the viewfinder to sign off on shots. He had to watch playback and review, which is time consuming, but we're all good sports.

Gloria Diaz is a non-actor who auditioned for the project because she's a friend of Shing and Nancy Eng (who plays Maggie), and she's always been curious about being in the movies. She's a natural, really—but that probably comes from her years of being a flight attendant, having to deal with a wide variety of people. I'm sure she's better trained than most psychiatrists. As for acting, it comes easily to her because she's relaxed in front of the camera. Some non-actors freeze up and need performances coaxed out of them, but Gloria responds well to Preston's style, and he has a penchant for casting interesting people with a presence onscreen, regardless of whether they are professional actors or not. It's always nice having her on the set, since she bubbles over with energy all the time and has a casual flirting way with Shing—they've been friends for twenty-five years or something.

Day fourteen is a car shot on the New Jersey turnpike, filmed because Preston was attracted to some gigantic oil drums along the roadside. But the handheld photography is bumpy and Preston is quietly frustrated by the results. When we steal shots on the airport monorail heading for Newark, he seems happier, since he previously filmed here during the making of his previous feature Jones. The actors seem undeterred by our stealth mode of filmmaking.

Speaking of family, on day fifteen we shoot extensively with Shing's mother. She's an older woman with striking white hair, ebullient and charismatic, and though she doesn't speak much English she doesn't have much trouble being understood. We're all charmed by her, and I think Shing is delighted to have so many members of his family in the same movie with him. I have to leave early, so I miss the shooting of the climactic scene of the movie. "I'm very pleased with the final shot," Preston tells me later. "I got Matthew on the balcony from different angles with his hand touching the sky—very evocative. I also shot an extended version where he sits up on the couch and walks to the balcony, kind of trance-like as if something was calling him out there, a la Dreyer's Vampyr. Regardless, we have a beautiful ending shot."

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Jeremiah Kipp's writing has appeared in Slant Magazine, Filmmaker, Fangoria and other publications.

By Jeremiah Kipp

[Editor's Note: The following is the seventh in a series of on-set reports by producer Jeremiah Kipp on God's Land, a feature film written and directed by Preston Miller, whose previous feature, Jones, was covered by The House Next Door here (review), here (interview), and here (podcast).]

Day Nine & Ten

The heart of the film is in the domestic scenes between the husband and wife. While I feel the point of view of God's Land is from the child, Ollie (Matthew Chiu), it's the conflict between the parents that sets everything in motion. The father, Hou (Shing Ka), was a successful doctor and gave everything away to join this cult—which has relocated its members to suburban Garland, Texas—and his wife, Xiu (Jodi Lin), is a non-believer. The key scenes we are shooting over the weekend involve testing the marriage. One of the scenes involves the two of them in bed: The husband is trying to sleep, the wife wants to speak with him about the past, how they met, the time Hou met her father and felt so uncomfortable because he didn't know what to say, and also to get him to talk about how she was the most beautiful woman in school, a beautiful flower in a sea of "frumpy bespectacled weeds." It's one of the scenes we used for the auditions, and I always found it to be incredibly poetic and beautiful, as well as tense—not to mention familiar. I think guys have a habit of rolling over and going to sleep when women want to talk. "Just go to sleep," Hou mutters, "or at least let me sleep!"

But of course she doesn't, and he rolls over and starts going through his own memories of her. It's the scene where we see the past relationship, and what drew them to each other. But also it shows their incompatible desires about the future, where she discusses what her son might be doing ten years from now, how the father should teach him about girls, and Hou believes they will be "nowhere" by that time—in another dimension.

Watching Jodi Lin work has been one of the great pleasures of making God's Land. Like the best actors, she's emotionally available, able to tap into resources of vulnerability or fierceness or tenderness with a rich inner life. But right from her audition, when she spoke about her mentor Robert Woodruff, one of the great American theater directors, or how she worked with the experimental, playful Charles Mee on his play Queens Boulevard, I also knew her to be very articulate, which is rare among American actors. If I had to compare her to someone, she reminds me of the subtle, nuanced Sam Neill—someone who builds a part. While I've never talked in depth with her about process, we've joked around about Polish para-theatrical guru Jerzy Grotowski and his exercises (the joke was not about his brilliant work, but how he said yoga is bad for actors—and I think a little humor is good when you're discussing being in a rehearsal room walking around in circles holding your ankles). But our jokes make me think of icebergs, where you see the tip of it above the water and below are unimaginable depths.

Jodi has had a rich experience in the theater, and judging from her work she must be an interesting person—I believe you have to be interesting, in real life, if you are to be an interesting actor. But what I adore about her is that she carries that with her and doesn't make a big deal out of it, or ever talk about it. In fact, she's quite hilarious—her voice is soft and she's often saying really funny things. Whenever I run into her by accident in Manhattan, she's wearing round impish sunglasses and carrying around a canvas bag of fruit or something, and has such a cheery demeanor that implies she doesn't take things, or herself, too seriously.

But when Preston calls action on a scene, it's quite moving to me to see that transformation. She effortlessly goes into that zone, for lack of a better word, that you have to find when you're playing a part. I think when you're acting a role you're really tapping into certain deep parts of yourself. And when Jodi reveals those sides of herself, I am drawn into her. I think this is what great acting can do. Somehow you find something familiar from life reflected back at you, and if it's truthful acting, it has the paradoxical effect of bringing you, the viewer, closer to yourself. People always say they lose themselves when they listen to a great piece of music or see fantastic movies or theater or look at a wondrous piece of art, when in fact I think it's the opposite.

So this bedroom scene takes place at night, and it's frustrating because we're shooting during the day and have to gel the windows with blue to simulate moonlight, but we're filming during magic hour and the sun is rapidly going down, and the further it sinks the more we have to tear gel down off of the windows to get an exposure. It's almost nauseating for me to have to do this distracting work while the actors are trying to carry on with the scene, but Preston (who is behind the camera for this bit) sees what the picture is doing, and knows what he needs. I duly comply with his every request with the bare minimum of bitching about it, and remain surprised by the atmosphere Preston creates on-set, which is so laid back that even as we're rushing, the actors seem quietly comfortable and fully involved in their characters and the scene. When Preston does one particular close-up involving their two faces, he is amazed at how eerie the image has become in this tender scene, and he gasps, "It's like Bergman's Persona..."

***
Jackson Ning, who plays Teacher Chen, is performing what, in the script, is a very brief scene of him in a small classroom of children. Xiu brings Ollie into the class, dropping him off, and the teacher introduces him to the class. On the page, it's not much—more of a transitional beat—but since we're talking about what actors can bring to a moment, it's fair to say they can take something that seems insignificant and transform it into gold. Jackson improvises an entire classroom lecture where he is introducing the children not only to each other, but to a tall green plant that is standing in the corner—and then he starts getting the kids to chant a mantra about plant power, perhaps as a way of rejuvenating its dying leaves, saying that their very thoughts can bring the plant back to life. Jackson not only captures the enthusiasm of teaching, but also Teacher Chen's surprising way with children. More than any other scene, it allows you to understand why these characters are following him in this cult—anyone who can break down the barriers with children, respecting them but also leading them, and able to keep a handful of kids entertained and involved, have some kind of charismatic power. Jackson found this revelatory quality in what seemed, on the page, like a minor scene. Preston is smiling behind the camera.

***
"One and done—Clint Eastwood style!" says assistant director Alex Gavin after we finish a shot of Xiu and Hou sitting on their couch during a climactic scene of the movie, where their conflict rises to the boiling point. "We have to talk about this as a family," Xiu says in response to a crisis spreading throughout the cult, whereas Hou responds solemnly, "No, you have to choose for yourself what to do." As I recall, we don't rehearse the scene very much, though the actors run their lines exhaustively. We plan to cover it in a dynamic medium shot—which starts with Hou alone as his wife passes back and forth in front of him picking up the mess of their apartment, then sits next to him to fight for their marriage—followed by two close-ups.

We do a very basic, rudimentary blocking for camera. Then we roll camera and run the scene, which lasts for maybe five minutes.

And it's one of those moments when time actually seems to stop. The blocking, the performances, the angle of the camera—somehow, it all comes together, but the main thing is the performances. Remember when I said earlier that great acting draws you in? Something in Shing Ka's stoicism, his minimalist acting where he tries to hold himself back, really hurts in this scene—you can see him quavering underneath. And Jodi Lin expresses herself with her entire body, and when desperation takes hold we see her curling up all over the couch, practically wrapping herself around Shing, and as her character tries to stay strong, something breaks in me. I feel tears streaming down my face. And on set, I've defined myself as a hard-driving, intense, rigorous, sometimes playfully macho guy who's always cracking the whip, pushing the machine forward, sometimes playing bad cop, always aggressive. But this scene in particular feels so close to home, I can't help but cry my eyes out.

And Preston and our director of photography Arsenio Assin are similarly moved. I think Preston also wipes away a tear, and Arsenio is visibly shaken up.

Preston calls cut very softly, and then there's a discussion as long as the scene itself about whether we should even bother doing any additional coverage, because all of the loaded emotional power was found within that shot. We decide to watch playback in order to make a decision, and while sitting there taking in the images, I cry again. You know, I never cry when I'm making a movie. Maybe I was feeling sensitive that day. But man, something in that scene clutched right at my very heart. And it affected Preston and Arsenio, too, and the actors, and everyone—and collectively we decided that we shouldn't bother with the coverage, and frankly, why bother with take two? The actors went for it that time, and found something. To do it again would be, frankly, mechanical. It's in the can, one and done, and we call it a night.

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Jeremiah Kipp's writing has appeared in Slant Magazine, Filmmaker, Fangoria and other publications.

By Jeremiah Kipp

[Editor's Note: The following is the sixth in a series of on-set reports by producer Jeremiah Kipp on God's Land, a feature film written and directed by Preston Miller, whose previous feature, Jones, was covered by The House Next Door here (review), here (interview), and here (podcast).]

Day Seven & Eight

The kid is standing there punching my hand over and over again, monitoring his breath. Matthew Chiu, age eight, who has never acted in a feature film before, is working himself up for a scene where he has to attack another child actor, Brandon Suen (who plays the role of "Jesus," the spoiled son of the cult leader—his sister Caitlyn plays "Buddha"). He has to endure a scene where he is nearly tied up to a tree and humiliated by bullies, then in a burst of rage lashes out against his oppressors. He has to knock Brandon to the ground and assault him, slapping him in the face, saying, "I'm not bad! I'm good! I'm good!" It would be a trying scene for any actor, and Matthew is just a boy. So there we are, with this child actor punching the palm of my hand over and over again, doing deep breathing exercises, in order to prepare for this scene and find the necessary level of exhaustion, frustration and energy to get through the scene.

It's not easy for him, because he's used to Preston's laid-back rhythm of filmmaking. But he's also used to me stepping in and saying, in an authoritative way, that it's "go time" and that he has to bring it, and I won't let him go out there in front of the camera unless he's ready to bring his war face. Matthew, who's an old soul, understands—he commits to the rigors of punching my hand over and over again, and breathing, and putting himself into a state of mind uncommon to him. He's used to being a friendly, affable, quiet and introspective kid, so it's a real struggle to find that inner anger. But he gets there, not because he wants to—he frankly does not—but he knows he has to for the movie, and he's committed.

What's funny is the child actor playing opposite him, Brandon, is having an easy time of it—he's acted in many more projects than Matthew, and when he shows up on set he's more interested in playing video games and watching cartoons than running lines. At first, I worry that it's going to be a big problem, and he's showing up to the set lazily refusing to do the work, but then the minute we run our first rehearsal, Brandon not only knows all of his lines to the letter, but he has found his way completely into this bullying character. It's so easy for him to play this role that it's almost boring for him before the camera is rolling. He's relatively game about having Matthew knock him to the ground and smack him around for a little while.

The scene is borderline surreal, with three little kids in their white cowboy outfits—and two of them wearing blue and yellow towels as capes to play Batman and Robin. When it gets to the fight scene, I feel like Matthew is Gary Cooper and Brandon is Lee Van Cleef.

The next day, Matthew has to face another difficult scene—one where he is being screamed at by the actor playing his father (Shing Ka). He has to kneel on the floor, surrounded by adults, all of them accusing him in various ways of wrongdoing ("How could you do this? Attacking the teacher's kids! What they must think of us?") I've gotten used to Matthew treating the scenes as if he were a grown-up actor, gradually learning the rules about eyeline and hitting his mark—he even calls cut once in the middle of a take when another actor skips several lines and throws him off and tells the actor (a professional who has made dozens of feature films) to do the scene again. But this moment when he is getting yelled at by a father figure is tough for him; it blurs the line between making movies and a real situation of pain. It happened once before in a scene where the actress playing his mother (Jodi Lin) burst into tears, and Matthew reacted to it on camera in a kind of shocked awe—that this actress opposite him was being so emotionally open, so disturbed, affected him in a profound way. It's not a game for him; it's real.

So there we are in this interrogation scene, and you hear actors all the time speak about how difficult certain roles are, how they find it hard to shake off the emotional impact of playing a scene that is traumatic—usually, I find this to be a little ridiculous. The process of acting allows you to feel so many things, an entire rainbow of emotions, and the effect is cathartic—it brings you to life, which is the very opposite of a deadening experience. Certainly, Matthew is alive during this interrogation scene, and between takes he's himself again, relaxed and cordial, but in the moment he finds it unnerving, and for the first time he asks Preston how many takes we're doing on this scene because it's so emotionally disturbing. Afterward, we give him many high-fives for his bravery and he looks like he has been climbing Mt. Everest. At the end of the day, it's just play-acting, not psychodrama—and Matthew, while committed, isn't a method actor and easily slides back into his relaxed, easy-going mannerisms.

***
We're over the halfway point now, which helps with morale, and a few of our major supporting actors have been shot out of the movie entirely. Preston seems relieved, since it means less people to have to schedule over the summer. We should be wrapped in July, but scheduling a no-budget movie involving nearly 30 speaking roles and a dozen principal actors is a never-ending nightmare. Preston has been shooting this movie on weekends and as we make our way into the summer months it's vacation time and many New York independent films are going into production, which limits the availability of several cast members. As it stands, Preston is juggling the time of professional working actors who have other paid gigs lining up and non-actors who don't understand the seriousness of calling off a shooting date at the last minute. I'm amazed the man doesn't have gray hairs as he works the phone, politely trying to work out with at least a dozen people every week whether they can do it. He finds this to be single-handedly the most difficult, painful part of the process; it's the drudgery of looking at a calendar and negotiating time, which is the managerial part of filmmaking—a million miles removed from the joyful art of playing in front of a camera, telling stories, drinking a couple of beers after the wrap and slapping each other on the back.

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Jeremiah Kipp's writing has appeared in Slant Magazine, Filmmaker, Fangoria and other publications.

By Preston Miller

[Editor's Note: The following is the third in a series of on-set reports on God's Land, a feature film written and directed by Preston Miller, whose previous feature, Jones, was covered by The House Next Door here (review), here (interview), and here (podcast).]

Days Three & Four

Like most of the others working on God's Land, I have a day job that has nothing to do with filmmaking or entertainment. I depend on the job to support my wife and two kids, the youngest only three months old. Shooting must be done at specific times, usually on weekends so as not to interfere with the cast and crew's money jobs. This means that even though a shooting schedule exists and is constantly modified, not everything that's listed on a certain day will actually materialize. It's up to me to see it all the way through. When resources are temporarily missing, I have to come up with solutions to keep this train moving lest the riders decide to jump off.

We shot days three and four without the benefit of my two greatest allies, producer Jeremiah Kipp and director of photography Arsenio Assin. Our assistant director Alex Gavin was there both days, and we took up the slack by both operating the camera and recording audio. Knowing in advance that Jeremiah was going to be away (producing another feature in Sarasota, FL), I purposefully scheduled two light working days. Saturday saw us at my old haunt Spaghetti Western, a bar-restaurant in Tribeca and Sunday we were in high-larceny mode, again stealing shots at a Long Island shopping mall, but this time with much more involved dialogue.

Come mid-week, I get the call that Arsen will also be away on a job that he needs for his financial survival. What was going to be an easy couple of days has now turned into another full blown panic. Arsen, who I've worked with since I arrived in NYC in 1992, would already know what we are going for—and have us in and out of the locations in no time. For large chunks of Jones, he and I were the only crew! To add insult to injury, I can't find a sound engineer that is not working this weekend or will agree to our meager compensation. After striking out for the fifth time, I deputize Alex to the "senior-audio-recording" position. Now I have to collect the props and wardrobe from discount stores, rent and pick up the wireless microphones, secure locations, communicate with actors, but also learn the camera. The learning curve should not be too steep as I have operated this type of camera before. This one, though, is brand new so I'm not yet versed on where all the buttons are and then there are the menu settings...

***
On Saturday, we meet my old friend Allison Pantoch at the restaurant. She works there and I have known her for over 15 years. Spaghetti Western is closed on weekends so she (with the gracious permission of the owner, Robbie Sinder) lets us in. I briefly flash back to 1994. Allison let us in when we were shooting my short Dishwashing Detective there on a similar Saturday back when I was in film school. After all this time, my crew has actually shrunk! It was fun and we got great footage. It felt a little like playing with talented studio musicians when your band mates are away.

The "Maggie Feng" character (played by Nancy Eng) is from Taiwan, but is not involved in the religious group. She had moved to the Dallas/Garland, TX area a couple of decades before. Maggie is a distant relative or older family friend to the lead character Xiu (Jodi Lin). Xiu's husband, Ming Hou (played by Shing Ka), is a devout member but Xiu is there more to protect her husband and their little boy from rumors of a possible mass suicide by the group. Maggie, in her brash and brassy way, attempts to dissuade Xiu from remaining with the cult while Xiu insists that there is nothing to fear.

Nancy has been ready for weeks to bring it! She was the only one to memorize all of her lines for the audition—she didn't just read for the part, she attacked it. On the day of shooting, Nancy brings in a number of costume options to supplement the red-white-&-blue theme of her character's ensemble. Maggie has fully embraced her adopted country and her fashion choices revolve around her fervent love of America. Originally, I had thought of her being obsessive over the Dallas Cowboys (everyone knows SOMEONE who is!) but couldn't find enough wardrobe/props to make it interesting. Americana-kitsch, on the other hand, is readily available in high quantity and low price at A.C. Moore Arts & Crafts, just in time for the Fourth of July!

The actresses are ready and launch into their roles with gusto. Nancy has created a fascinating accent for her character, a mix between a Texan-drawl and a Taiwanese-inflected, almost broken English. It sounds great, and of someone who is still coming to terms with how their own voice defines them (Southern v. Asian.)

We shoot Xiu in a single-angle, changing out of her white cult outfit that all the members wear as their uniforms and into a more casual dress to meet Maggie. The clothing itself is a statement, bought in defiance of the dress code that effectively kills individuality. Myriad emotions cross Jodi's face as Xiu applies lipstick for the first time in weeks, deeply conflicted about her temporary freedom and the imagined consequences of getting caught. After the first take, I have a lump in my throat. Being that she plays the featured role of Xiu and is on set a good deal of the time, Jodi has become a confidante and as much a part of the crew as Jeremiah and Arsenio. She is able to slip in and out of difficult emotions with unbelievable ease.

We finish at Spaghetti and that afternoon I plan on taking Nancy back to my house to shoot the rest of Maggie's scenes. One scene has her collecting her mail where her profession is revealed (tease, tease) and the other scenes are of Maggie watching the press conferences from the group. But the weather on Long Island is rainy, almost foggy. I want Maggie's exterior to at least appear sunny. We reschedule this bit for later in the weekend. I bid the team adieu, drop Alex at BAM so he can see The Limits of Control and head to Hicksville.

***
On Sunday, we meet in the late morning to shoot at a local department store in Hicksville. Our first day of shooting went really well there and I was frankly surprised how undisturbed we were. I'm hoping for the same streak of good luck. In addition to Alex, we have Scott Perry to assist with camera and sound gear. Scott helped us on the exhausting shoot two weeks prior and we were fortunate to have him with us today. When shooting covertly in a very public place like this, the more eyes the better. Even my wife Pia is there with our kids lazily pushing a cart around, texting when a manager seemed to wander a little too close for comfort.

This time we also are fortunate to have my "brother" Leif Fortlouis there to assist and play the role of Lewter the Security Guard. He basically made his costume that morning with nametags and various security badges. Jodi and Carrie Kiamesha (in the role of Bijou) round out our group. Carrie is also thoroughly prepared. She brought a number of outfits, and while she models the costumes, she runs lines with Jodi.

Once we are camera ready and all the costumes are on, we keep having people come up to Carrie for help in the store—and Security Guard Leif actually helps load old people's cars for them! A good laugh, them in their "HATSTACKS!" name tags that Leif has designed. This is the fictitious name we gave the store we were shooting in. "HATSTACKS!" comes from a name my oldest son Nikhil came up with for his little brother just before he was born. We still don't know where he came up with this name, but it fits very well as a retail department store. (Nikhil later informs the actors at lunch that he, too, was an actor...in Jones. True dat!)

We shoot loads as we aren't hampered by security or store management. The worst is that groups or families will unwittingly plant themselves in the middle of a shot and just hang out. The wireless mikes I rented work out very well. If you are doing this kind of covert shooting, I highly recommend them. We didn't even need a sound person as I monitored the sound with my iPod earbuds as opposed to the big, honking headphones I usually use. Additionally, Scott plays the asshole reporter that harasses Xiu and is told to leave by Bijou, a role he relishes! Carrie is excellent as Bijou. Her sweet nature and easy going attitude capture the embodiment of this character more succinctly than any of the characters I've created for this piece. Carrie's Bijou is exactly as I imagined her; a warm, full-blooded Woman! When she is asked, in the middle of scenes, where the face cream or appliances are by real customers, she doesn't miss a beat.

All three actress do top rate work and the film is richer because of it. All of these actresses are jobbing performers and I am quite sure this project is on the low end in scale to what they are used to doing. Nonetheless, each one has not only the skills and professionalism but a genuine desire to use their talents to make something out of nothing. The generosity they've shown is unbelievable. Jodi even says this is her favorite shooting day so far. Considering the resources we have and the conditions, I take heart in that. Can't wait for you to see their work. I think you'll agree that they all possess something special at any production level.

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Preston Miller is the writer/director of Jones. His website is Vindaloo Philm-Wallah.