How We Crowd-Sourced Creativity, Created a Community and Made Four Short Films for €450 Euros Each (And Already Won One Award) Daniel Hillel-Tuch Follow Jan 28 · 14 min read

My wife and I were struggling. We had to come up with a plan. Sure, we got the occasional commercial video gig: some were exciting, some were terrible, and some were exciting until they turned soul-crushingly terrible (you know who you are). But there was a reason we pursued film-making: it was to make movies. Like, real movies. So, as storytellers™, with our company Wild Meep we figured out a way to make that happen.

On set for “Wet Feet”

We decided to teach our way towards content.

We are doing our best to succeed in these aspirational careers of filmmakers. We are obviously not the only ones, otherwise this cottage industry of film schools, blog-posts(heyoo), and gurus wouldn’t be thriving. There are gazillions (last I counted) of wannabe filmmakers.

I might not know the 7 steps to film-making success, but I do know a little something about telling a compelling story. You can maybe thank my “prestigious” film-school education, or my years as performer (barf), or just simply writing a bunch of good and bad scripts, producing them, and discovering what did or didn’t work.

Storytelling is like stand up comedy except you don’t actually always have to be funny

They say the more you know the more you realize you don’t know. What they don’t tell you is that sometimes, some people know even less than that. That’s okay! They want to learn, they want to be taught, and, you know what? You might have some information to teach.

We thought that might be true for us. It certainly helped that Michelia, the aforementioned spouse, has years of experience as an educator.

She can lug a camera and educate a classroom

We came up with a plan that would involve our community, market our name and reputation, and give us the opportunity to make movies. We developed a workshop.

The workshop was a two-and-a-half hour, Thursday evening crash-course in writing story for the screen. We called it an “Interactive Film Writing Workshop,” which was only slightly confusing because it apparently implied VR stuff. Point was it wasn’t strictly a seminar because we featured games, activities and lots of exercises. That’s what was interactive about it.

Little video of the workshop

Our plan was to host four of these workshops, generate a short film concept from each one, and then use the (low) revenue from the tickets to fund the making of the films.

Did it work?

First we had to figure out how to lead a workshop. Of course all those impostor syndrome juices pump at full force, but after one good Apocalypse Now style mirror smashing freak out, we worked through it, practiced our patter, gathered our confidence, and pitched the idea.

We found a sponsor in Zoku, a co-working space and hotel in Amsterdam. In exchange for using their beautiful meeting room, they got to brag about hosting this dope film-writing workshop.

Marketing was honestly not that hard. I had experience as a copywriter with ad agencies, and we know our demographic: aspiring creatives and filmmakers. Hey, that’s us! Also the tickets were pretty cheap so that made it accessible. A few simple, quick videos and some compelling call-to-action text, with a little bit of funding for the ad revenue, and we sold out our first session.

Finding an audience wasn’t the challenge.

The Material

We explored the fundamentals: What is story for screen? What makes it different? What kind of ideas work well for a movie vs, say, a short-story? How are film stories often structured, and how can we use limitations to help us brainstorm?

The best part was unlocking the creativity of our participants who came from all backgrounds. While some were visual effects artists and camera operators, others were prison guards and fine art painters. All of them sought some form of guidance.

I knew I could relate. I, too, have stared at a blank page. I, too, have wondered how can I possibly translate this kernel of an idea into something viable. I, too, needed the help of others to take me along, push me in the right direction, and provide a tool-set that encouraged and activated my creativity.

At the end of each workshop, we did just that. Our participants, divided up into small groups, developed a short film concept based on a simple five act structure with improv game style limitations.

We would always start from the following: The film idea needed to feature only two characters in one location. We would then get the room to provide the other limitations.

For example, for one workshop everyone decided the film had to take place in a park, feature a balloon, the relationship was that of a mother and daughter, and it would explore the theme of “reconciliation.”

By removing the possibility of everything, we encouraged them to come up with something, more quickly. When it came down to it, they only had about 30 minutes.

Per workshop, six or so ideas would emerge, and all the participants would anonymously vote using their cellphones. The winning idea would then be developed into a short film.

“But!” I can hear you interrupting “Other people’s ideas are stupid while my ideas are the best ever! Why would you ever bother working on some plebs story when my Black Mirror inspired time-travel western Neo-Noir concept is, like, the only thing worth working out!”

To that I say, pfff, whatever. The preciousness of ideas can hold you back. We wanted a way to execute and create. We wanted a way to force ourselves to make movies. You can twiddle your thumbs endlessly waiting for the perfect idea, or you can take what you have and elevate that to the best of your abilities. That’s what we did. This was the idea, now we have to follow through and make it happen.

Crowd-sourcing the creativity also genuinely fostered new ideas. It created a context for making these films that encouraged volunteers and donations, and it helped manage our ever-inflating artistic egos.

Of course we massaged and managed the treatments and transformed them into scripts, but they were genuinely sparked by the participants of each workshop.

Making the movies

Now we actually had to make the movies. Sure, leading workshops to enthusiastic, eager creatives was challenging, but when it comes down to it, filmmaking is harder. At least in this very specific context. Don’t get at me.

We decided we wanted to make each short film before the next workshop happened, so we had about a month and a half to make each short.

We produced everything ourselves.

Let’s take the first movie from the first workshop, “Wet Feet”. The original pitched winning concept involved two shoe cobblers crafting a boat on a rooftop to avoid the impending flood that threatens the city of Amsterdam. It’s a pretty good idea, which is why it won. For god’s sake though, a rooftop? Flooding city? Boats? We don’t have that kind of budget, buddy!

Don’t underestimate the fig rig for all your low budget video production needs!

At the top of every workshop, we reminded everyone that we reserve the right to change and alter the idea in any fashion we desired for whatever reason, just like the real movie industry.

Our reasons were, more often than not, what is feasible? We therefore felt free to change what was necessary while sticking sticking to the core of the story.

First, let us look at the why. As we taught in the workshop, a good story should reveal a truth about the world or about ourselves, so why this story? What truth was it revealing?

What emerged was the dynamic of the two main characters, which was decided by the limitation of “boss and employee.” The original pitch concept implied push and pull from the senior cobbler and his apprentice. Let’s explore that further. Perhaps the senior cobbler is more focused on the world as it once was, through the proxy of his work (shoes), and the apprentice is more concerned with the reality of the world as it is. That can be the thrust, the drive of the story, especially in the context of environmental degradation. How can we effectively convey this aspect without actually flooding the city?

We can’t do this on a rooftop. We can’t construct a convincing rainstorm and flood for €450. Maybe you can, but we couldn’t.

So next best thing was to imply it through the magic of cinema. Forget the rooftop. If we can find a nice old shoe-repair shop, which are plentiful in The Netherlands, that would establish our setting fantastically. We can create the soundscape of impending doom in post with good sound design. The boat that’s being constructed from shoes will have to be off-screen. That works. Okay, so the script will have to do a little more exposition work, but this feels reasonable.

I cast our apprentice shoe cobbler through a Dutch online noticeboard (filmcastings.nl), who came from a stage and theater background and was eager to get some film experience. We covered travel and lunch.

Casting the older shoemaker was more difficult. Finding someone who is the right age, looks the part, is good, and is willing to volunteer their time? Well, here’s the thing: that’s a tough Venn Diagram to satisfy.

Good older actors rarely do it for free. They went through that rigmarole years ago and are good, so they don’t have a portfolio they need to bolster. Fortunately, thanks to my relationship with a casting agency as an actor, I was given access to their database and was allowed to reach out to their rooster directly and pitch our ‘volunteer’ project. The timing lined up and we managed to get our guy.

Finding a good cobbler’s store, demanded, forgive me, some good old shoe leather scouting. I searched high and low in our major cities and some villages, but, after about two dozen of them, ended up at the wonderful Koen Maakt Je Schoen in Amsterdam East. Not only was the location good, but the owner agreed to let us work there at no cost. Well, he had one provision: it could only be on Monday morning from 8:30 until 13:00. That gives us thirty minutes to set up and four hours to shoot. That’s not a lot of time for what will be a 5 minute short film of about 8 pages.

That’s why we storyboarded the whole film shot-by-shot, nearly creating the edit in pre-production. No time for coverage, everything will be shot according to the storyboard. This line will be said in a close-up, this moment is for the wide, and only this section in a medium.

our highly sophisticated storyboard

Our crew consisted of myself as a director, Michelia as our DOP and production designer, our two actors, our good friend Tiberiu-Mihail Cimpoeru as assistant camera and BTS photographer, and Vitalij Kuzkin as our sound operator. Everybody was doing it at no cost.

Again, having this project emerge from a collaborative film writing workshop definitely helped with the community feel and motivation. I’m not sure we would have had as many collaborators and volunteers were it not for that. This wasn’t just our personal “passion project,” but rather emerged from a creative, enthusiastic collective.

We shot on our own Nikon D810 on tripods with a ProRes Transcoder.

The shoot went well. We worked quickly and effectively and got what we wanted. Thanks to a high energy and efficient schedule, we got everything we needed on time with a few minutes to spare to make sure everything was perfect for the store to reopen for its first customers.

That is until we saw that the SSD hard-drive we used for the first half of the day was bricked. The hard-drive was setup to capture everything through the ProRes transcoder. But now, connecting it to my laptop through the drive reader or back in the transcoder monitor, nothing was showing.

It wouldn’t and couldn’t connect. It was dead dead dead, a fancy paperweight. God, my heart sunk at that moment. This was the first shoot from our first workshop on our first short film. It was our first proper short film together as Wild Meep, and my first dialogue-driven short film in so many years, and now it was simply gone. We failed out of the gate.

We went through all the data-recovery options that were possible. The rental house footed the bill, but even after shipping the drive to manufacturer, there was no recourse. It was gone.

So what did we do? We shot it again.

Yep.

We had to recast our senior cobbler since the original actor was no longer available, but fortunately we lucked out with our new actor as well who happened to have a gap in his work schedule. Vitalj’s schedule didn’t allow him to work the day we needed so we had to conscript a buddy who, well, honestly, wasn’t an experienced sound recordist (which provided for more work in post production) but we figured it out, using the same script, storyboard, and same shot list.

None of the movie would’ve worked were it not for the intricate sound design that created the world outside the frame. This was accomplished by the kind and generous Thijs Pronk who posted on a creative facebook group that he was open to donating his talent.

As of writing, “Wet Feet” has been accepted into two Dutch Film Festivals and has won a Jury Prize.

It’s vertical for social. Don’t come at me.

In between the making of the two “Wet Feet,” we also shot “Pink.” After the second “Wet Feet,” our workshops also led us to make “H. Positum” and “Thicker Than Water”. Each film came with its own unique challenges, including casting child actors, wrangling tons of pink helium balloons, securing a movie theater as a location, and cracking the challenge of a story concept that featured ravenous plants.

teaser for “Pink”

As we went along, we upgraded the equipment we used, graduating from our Nikon D810 DSLR with a ProRes transcoder to a Black Magic setup for “H. positum” and “Thicker Than Water.” This was possible thanks to the rental credits we accrued on other commercial projects. They say “Only a poor man blames the tools” but then they also go around saying “tools make the man.” What is true? Well, let me tell you, to keep the analogy going, a nicer camera does build a more handsome table.

We got better at leading our workshops with each session and we got better at running a set with each short film. We learned to trust our abilities, roll with the punches, and find solutions. Each project brought its own unique challenges, but thanks to the unique construction of the workshops, we started to accumulate a community. For instance, the wonderful Penderecki-inspired composition featured in “H. positum” was done by Tom Power, who was one of the progenitors of the concept that led to “Wet Feet” from our first workshop. Faela, our young actress from “Thicker Than Water,” was the daughter of Paule, a participant in our final workshop.

A good child actress! No, for real!

Through piecemealing our talent and contributors from our slowly burgeoning network, we pulled off our goal. We made four short movies in a year, and, hey, they might not be total shit. Let’s find out.

Premiere

We held a premiere at our workshop location, Zoku, in Amsterdam. It’s a beautiful space with a nice projector and good sound system (that broke on the day so we had to use a two DJ speaker boxes instead).

They’re watching our movies!

We invited cast and crew, their friends and family, workshop participants, and some stragglers as well. Tickets were free but they had to reserve. We had a friend check everybody in at the door, and we had fun games and activities and prizes involving free movie tickets to the local art-house theater nearby. With popcorn and old-fashioned cocktails, and all our movie posters plastered on the wall, it was a proper party.

Such festivities!

Also, we happened to show our movies. That was scary. Now it comes. Sure we have a warm and friendly crowd, but what if they suck? We’ve been living with these things for a while, but now we are finally going to show them to the people. Showing your work to people is terrifying. What if it’s embarrassing? What if we really suck and shouldn’t be making movies for anybody? Maybe a meteor will strike our screening room and we will all go up in a blaze, one could hope.

But they seemed to like it.

They especially liked “H. positum,” a film that featured two extensive visual effects which were kindly supplied to us by Matt Gardocki of Gardocki Digital in Oklahoma City for a very good price. We found each other through reddit.

H. positum teaser

Guess our work here is done. Dust off our hands and rest on our laurels. Except we didn’t have that many of those yet. Let’s get them laurels!

I can’t believe we won!

Film Festivals

Before the premier, we debated the next steps. Do we throw all our flicks online or do we give them a shot at the festival circuit? We thought our odds were decent. We have four short films, a unique concept that drove them, and it would be great to get them shown on proper screens in front of eager audiences. Let’s go for it.

We fundraised for submission costs at our premiere, pitching without shame or hesitation, explaining the costs of submitting movies, and making it extra easy for people to do with a cash donation box as well as QR code system. Thanks to the premiere, we raised about another €300 for film festival submissions.

We’ve submitted to a lot of Dutch and European festivals. The majority still has to respond, but as of writing, we’ve already gotten two acceptances, one award, and about four rejections.

Tasty tasty laurels

More importantly, we did what we set out to do. We made a bunch of movies. We found an engine that would get us there. We genuinely provided something of educational value to our community, as well as tangible value with the films that emerged from them.

We have these short films, as well as the story around the making of them. This gives us another platform to discuss and present our work at festivals and online, with write-ups like the one you are reading. It might even give inspiration to others to follow a similar trajectory.

Before this year, my last short film was an arty, dialogue-free mood piece. The one before that was my not-very-good college thesis project. Now in 2020, together with my business and romantic partner, along with the commercial work we accomplished last year, we’ve made four short films. Actual ones. That (mostly) feel like movies.

To listen to more about what we thought about the whole process, check out our discussion below.

It’s like a podcast, but video!

All this community talk is sincere. If you have any questions, I’m open to them. Write them in the comments below or reach out to daniel@wildmeep.nl

For now, the movies are locked away behind passwords on Vimeo and only the trailers are out. At the end of our festival run, we will obviously put them all up and see what the vimeo/youtube algorithm has to say.