Answer Addiction

Tag: film

  • Shia LaBeouf and Alma Har'el's Almost-True "Honey Boy" Tackles Family Alcoholism and PTSD

    Shia LaBeouf and Alma Har'el's Almost-True "Honey Boy" Tackles Family Alcoholism and PTSD

    In rehab, LaBeouf used a flashlight under the covers to write what he was learning about mental illness and alcoholism. These notes evolved into the screenplay for “Honey Boy.”

    Actor Shia LaBeouf, now 33, wrote Honey Boy during his 10-week lockdown in court-ordered treatment, which he nicknamed “head camp.” That was the sentence for his highly-publicized 2017 felony arrest for public drunkenness, obstruction, and disorderly conduct—a charge that could’ve landed him seven years in prison. Since then, much has changed for LaBeouf.

    “I want to thank the police officer who arrested me in Georgia for changing my life”

    This week, only two years post-rehab, the Hollywood Film Awards honored LaBeouf with its Breakthrough Screenwriter prize. Now sober, his acceptance speech was all gratitude, with the first shoutout going to Savannah cop Arthur Bryant:

    “I want to thank the police officer who arrested me in Georgia for changing my life. I want to thank my therapist and my sponsor for saving my life. I want to thank my team for being part of my life and my parents for giving me life.”

    LaBeouf’s mother Shayna Saide, who accompanied her son to the ceremony, teared up during the award speech. Honey Boy is based on a thinly-veiled story about a child actor named Otis Lort—played by Noah Jupe—and his bitter ex-rodeo clown father James Lort, played by LaBeouf. Before LaBeouf’s stay in rehab, he had been estranged from his father Jeffrey for seven years. LaBeouf gives a powerful performance as the elder Lort, a deeply disturbed, bitter alcoholic whose drinking destroyed his marriage, his career, and scarred the psyche of his young son. Yet, these complex characters display an obvious love for each other.

    The screenplay is a slice of LaBeouf’s life. The movie begins with Otis as a preteen, so it doesn’t include earlier scenes such as his parents divorcing when he was only three, nor the violence he witnessed at age nine—overhearing a man raping his mother in another room. In LaBeouf’s last rehab stay (his third), he learned about his PTSD.

    The daring, vulnerable script originated with email correspondence between two close friends. The actor, holed up in a treatment facility, used a flashlight under the covers to write what he was learning about mental illness and the family disease of alcoholism. He shared his innermost thoughts with Alma Har’el, an award-winning Israeli filmmaker he’d first met in 2011 after seeing Har’el’s Bombay Beach, which won Best Documentary at Tribeca Film Festival (TFF) that year.

    Alcoholic Fathers, Jewish Mothers, and Deep Emotional Scars

    They met for dinner and soon found much in common: Both had alcoholic fathers, Jewish mothers, and deep emotional scars. LaBeouf produced Har’el’s second doc, LoveTrue (2016), which also premiered at TFF.

    While LaBeouf was writing about his experiences in treatment, he described painful memories that were surfacing. Har’el recognized the seeds of a cinematic story and encouraged him to keep writing.

    The process of revising the script was a group effort with director Har’el at the helm. The moviemaking team included 12-year-old Jupe, Lucas Hedges as Otis in his 20s, and Byron Bowers as Percy, a kindred spirit for Otis during his rehab stay. LaBeouf and Har’el were open to everyone’s input.

    We reached out to Alma Har’el to find out more.

    How did making your first feature film compare to documentaries?

    AH: This film felt like a documentary even though a large part of Honey Boy was scripted. It was a combination of Shia’s real-life story, his dreams, and adding fiction. Regarding the documentary part, it was very important for me to find out as much as I could about where real events in Shia’s life took place. I spoke with both of his parents to understand as much as I could. His mother Shayna Saide provided so many photos. We used as many as we could in the credit sequence. It was to help bring the story to life as much as was possible.

    How true to Shia LaBeouf’s life was it?

    We were making a film about [the fictional] Otis—not about Shia. Much of the movie was inspired by real-life events and whenever [possible], I wanted to rely on those truths. It was a big help that Shayna, Shia’s mother, was on set with us every day, all day.

    Was his father offended by the portrayal of him?

    I don’t want to speak for him, so I don’t want to say what he felt, but I could say that he sent me a very warm message after he read the script. Then he sent me messages on Facebook almost every day. I think that [brought] good luck on the shoot. When he saw the final film, he was extremely happy for Shia.

    Was it like an AA living amends for him?

    It was. I think it was exactly that in so many ways.

    How do you feel about the use of the word “god” in 12-step programs?

    Yeah, it’s very challenging, but it is, as they say, your higher power, so it’s up to you to define what it is. I think that’s the power of these programs. It is the power of the people that support each other and come back to share things together and find …their own higher power. Much [of it] is a personal journey. [Everyone] has their own terms. But, yeah, I have my challenges with that. That’s been one of my biggest challenges—to find what those destinations are outside of religion. I think gods can be real even if it’s not the god everybody else is praying to. It is certainly about figuring that out for yourself—a personal journey.

    Can you add anything to that?

    Well, it’s like, what is that thing that makes you present? What makes you have faith in something bigger than yourself? Also, the part of Percy was written much more religious at first. It spoke about god-related steps in rehab….When Byron Bowers [was cast] in the role, he rewrote that part for himself so it was based on his own experiences.

    What was it like when you said something but didn’t realize it was a trigger. Did Shia have to take care of himself by taking a walk or was it smoother than that?

    It was a lot more intense than that! We had to deal with very, very intense situations, often on set, but we did it with privacy when we could. We always made sure that Noah, and all of us were feeling safe. I’m very happy that we were all able to … be present.

    Do you mean present for the difficult topics in the script?

    Yes. We all went through these deep feelings and learned so much.

    About each other?

    Yes, and about PTSD. I also feel like our movie could help children of alcoholics [who may be] struggling. We didn’t want to [shy away] or disregard anything.

    Was it cathartic for Shia?

    An exorcism! And not just for him. We let demons come up.

    Noah Jupe said he went into this movie as a child but left as a teenager. Did you see that metamorphosis taking place?

    I’m not a mother so I was really glad his mother was on set with us every day, and Shia’s mother too. They became close allies of mine in directing. We were all very intimate on set, having … intimate discussions about everything. I loved watching Noah’s perceptions and his ability to express himself emotionally and see things in a deeper way. It was happening, but I hadn’t really seen how much he’s grown until we took a break after Sundance. It was obvious then that he’s now a teenager just by the way he walked. He has physically and emotionally grown up so much. It’s so funny when we were sitting together doing the Q&A, some of us teared up when he was talking…from how much he’d grown up and what an amazing young man we were seeing.

    Honey Boy is now in theaters.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • "Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool" Connects Jim Crow Oppression to Davis' Heroin Addiction

    "Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool" Connects Jim Crow Oppression to Davis' Heroin Addiction

    Miles Davis’ heroin addiction and alcoholism are all well known and well documented. However, Nelson frames this period as resulting from Davis’ return to a reality in which he was not wanted but his music was.

    The documentary Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool opened up the world of one of the most innovative musicians in American history. In the film, Director Stanley Nelson laid bare all the details of the music man’s life, including the darkness and despair of Davis’s struggle with alcoholism and heroin addiction. It is during this piece of the film, which should have been the low and slow point, that the pieces Nelson offered began to connect. Davis’s heroin addiction was a direct result of the treatment he received as a black man living under Jim Crow laws in 1949.

    In the documentary, Nelson offers audiences the French tour where Miles Davis discovered love and existence without the restriction and oppression of Jim Crow America post-WWII. Davis went to France in 1949, touring with the Tadd Dameron group for quite some time. By all accounts—even those outside of Nelson’s documentary—the man became enamored with the country that embraced him for his talent without placing restrictions on him due to his skin color. Here he experienced life without the heavy hand of racism weighing him down.

    The freedom of living abroad was buoyed by a romance with a French singer named Juliette Gréco. The couple, despite their racial differences, was able to maintain a public relationship just like other couples in France and much of Europe. The oppressive, dangerously restrictive Jim Crow laws in the U.S. would have made their relationship illegal. American laws and policies in 1949 were enacted to maintain the belief that black people were inferior to their white countrymen.

    In Birth of the Cool, the narrator discusses how Davis became “disillusioned” by American racism after spending quite some time away in France. The weight of Jim Crow was enough to send the musician into a depression that he could not recover from. This was compounded by the lull in his musical career because of the waning popularity of bebop and the lack of a fresh new sound from Davis. He was also mulling the loss of the relationship that he would remember well into his later years. Davis told an interviewer that he never married Gréco because he loved her and wanted her to be happy. Their marriage could not exist in the U.S.

    The next part of the documentary was a slow plunge into the darkest parts of the musician’s life. Davis’s heroin addiction and alcohol abuse are all well known and well documented. However, Nelson frames this period as resulting from Davis’s return to a reality in which he was not wanted but his music was. Although Nelson never explicitly says so, the racism Davis experienced led to his depression, which sent him into the heroin addiction and alcoholism rabbit hole. Even in the documentary, Davis describes his depression as something that sprouted the moment he returned to the racist United States and followed him through the period of his life where he struggled with addiction.

    Studies like “Exploring the Link between Racial Discrimination and Substance Use: What Mediates? What Buffers?” from the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology show that not only is there a relationship between racism and mental health issues as a whole, but the link also exists specifically between racism and addiction. The authors write, “Psychologists have known for some time about the pernicious effects that perceived racial discrimination can have on mental health.” The study goes on to dig into the research gathered from this link. They found that “[n]umerous correlational studies have documented relations between self-reports of discriminatory experiences and reports of distress, including anxiety and depression, as well as anger.” All of these elements were likely in place as Davis returned to the U.S. The weight of segregation, sundown laws, lynchings, and other trappings of Jim Crow laws was more than enough to anger and depress any black person at the time.

    Substance use promises an escape from pain and Davis needed a way to cope with all these feelings. According to the aforementioned study, “[T]he increased substance use we found was evidence of a coping style that includes use as a means of handling the stress of discrimination.” Davis probably became more angered and frustrated with the racist behavior (especially after returning home to the predominantly white St. Louis suburb his parents lived in). The documentary also described how his musical popularity waned and his personal life was disrupted from the breakup with Gréco. At the time, the musician’s life had all the elements in place to breed the raging heroin addiction that followed.

    Fortunately, Davis recovered from his addiction to opioids and alcohol, but it was a lifelong struggle. Nelson depicts as much in the documentary. In fact, racism and substance abuse become a very strong subplot to the documentary that works to educate viewers as much as entertain them. Between the scenes depicting the origins of the famous everchanging Miles Davis sound, Nelson buried important nuggets that should force us to redefine how we view and treat racism and addiction.

    Birth of the Cool essentially describes the environment from which Miles Davis’s addiction was created. There are other factors that also affected his addiction, but racism and depression were the primary and most powerful drivers that pushed him toward problematic substance use. Nelson thus lends one more voice to the chorus of stories that illustrate how racism and the oppression of white supremacy is an impetus to substance misuse and addiction. Acknowledging this can help with not only treating addiction in the black community, but also with understanding why racism should be considered a public health concern worthy of more serious attention.

    More info on Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool here.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 2018 Reel Recovery Film Festival Returns to New York

    2018 Reel Recovery Film Festival Returns to New York

    The fest is the brainchild of Leonard Buschel, founder of Writers in Treatment (WIT), a nonprofit organization that helps alcoholic and addicted writers get clean.

    Calling all cinephiles! The REEL Recovery Film Festival (RRFF), which is celebrating its 10th year, is back for its 6th Annual New York City Edition. The festival kicks off its public program at 8 p.m. Friday, Nov. 2, with a screening of the Eric Clapton documentary, Life in 12 Bars. Click here for a free ticket to the documentary (or any movie at the festival), courtesy of Clapton’s treatment center, Crossroads Centre Antigua. The CEO of Crossroads, Nicos Peraticos, will be in attendance to give a short talk and introduce the film.

    For the full Nov. 2–8 schedule, visit the RRFF website. Note: All tickets are General Admission so, word to the wise: arrive early in order to nab yourself a seat.

    Every year since RRFF sprouted up in New York, I’ve attended this awesome week-long festival and had a blast meeting sober people. The fest is the brainchild of Leonard Buschel, founder of Writers in Treatment (WIT), a nonprofit organization that helps alcoholic and addicted writers get clean. WIT also publishes the Addiction Recovery Bulletin newsletter, and created the annual Experience Strength and Hope Awards. This year’s big award winner was Jane Velez-Mitchell for her New York Times best-selling memoir, iWANT: My Journey from Addiction and Overconsumption to a Simpler, Honest Life.

    Buschel spoke to The Fix about how he got here and what makes this year’s RRFF so special.

    “After 26 years of abusing everything from Valium to vodka and cocaine to codeine, I crashed and burned. I smoked breakfast, drank lunch and snorted dinner.”

    Finally, beaten to his bottom, the depressed and close-to-hopeless Buschel schlepped himself into 12-step recovery at the Betty Ford Center.

    “I’d prayed at the Western Wall,” he said. “I’d sat in temples of Kyoto, cried my eyes out at the Anne Frank House, but it wasn’t until I went to Betty Ford that I decided to get clean. I was horrified at the time, thinking it was some Christian enclave. Thankfully, I learned that wasn’t the case.”

    “This year’s RRFF received generous support from the Addiction Policy Forum,” Buschel said. “So thanks to them we have some really special events that didn’t happen at the Los Angeles RRFF week in October that just ended. So, one movie that’s just for our New York crowd is the first theatrical screening of the Eric Clapton documentary, Life in 12 Bars.”

    Such a perfect title since Clapton loves the blues.

    Buschel continued: “We had to find a bigger venue this year because our audience has grown so much since we started. Judging by last year’s enthusiastic turnout, we are expecting an audience of around 2,000. So, this year, it will be at the 100-year-old Village East Cinema, which is a New York City landmark. Another special treat is on Monday afternoon at 3 o’clock when we’ll have another complimentary screening, the Bill W. documentary.”

    The documentary’s director, Kevin Hanlon, will be at the theater and will give a talk. The film, which was created using old archives, is a moving documentary about AA founders Bill W. and Dr. Bob. Seeing those two on the big screen when it first came out gave me such a thrill. In my humble opinion, it is definitely worth watching the movie a second, or third, or fourth time.

    Addiction specialist and psychodrama expert, Tian Dayton, PhD, who is the author of 15 books including Emotional Sobriety, will be presenting a 6 p.m. panel on the last night, Thurs., Nov. 8, which will include a few videos, followed by a conversation with the audience. Directly after that is Buschel’s talk at 7 p.m.

    “My panel, Recovery Is a Verb, will be a conversation about the state of addiction in America,” Buschel said. “Then we will close with a 21st anniversary screening called Gridlock’d. It’s a great film starring Tupac Shakur, Tim Roth and Thandie Newton, with Elizabeth Peña, Lucy Liu and John Sayles. It’s about two guys trying to get into a government detox program. Tupac plays Spoon and Tim Roth is Stretch. It was written and directed by Vondie Curtis-Hall.”

    “We get 150 submissions from filmmakers around the world,” said Bushel. “We watch every one of them. Our panel votes on which are the very best and it is never easy to narrow it down. [There are] so many great submissions.”

    Click here for your free ticket!

    More Festival Highlights

    Coach Jake (2017): At 70 years old, Martin “Coach Jake” Jacobson is the winningest high school coach in NYC history. But this year, both on and off the field, may be the most challenging yet. Directed by Ian Phillips. Special Appearance by Coach Jake and director Ian Phillips. 82 min.

    Peace, Love and Zoo (2018) This film explores the colorful world of artist and recovery guru, Zoo Cain, as he uses art to ease his journey into darkness through cancer and a difficult relationship. Directed by Reginald Groff. Special Appearance by Director Reginald Groff and star Zoo Cain. 68 min.

    When Love is Not Enough: The Lois Wilson Story (2010) Based on the true story of the enduring love story between Lois Wilson and Bill W. and the transformational social movements they founded. Directed by John Kent Harrison. Starring Winona Ryder. 92 min.

    That Way Madness Lies (2018) Filmmaker Sandra Luckow’s scary account of her brother’s dangerous and ever-escalating cycle of arrests, incarcerations and commitment to mental institutions, one of which included a stay in Oregon State Hospital (the setting of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest). Directed by Sandra Luckow. NY Premiere. Personal Appearance by director Sandra Luckow. 101 min.

    WONDER WOMEN WEDNESDAY
    Films made by women, starring women, about women.

    These films are not just for women. Everyone is encouraged to come and to join in the discussion after each film.

    Recovering (2017) In this hour-long pilot, Cally Claremont, the adult child of an alcoholic (and so naturally, a recovering perfectionist), must seek help from her estranged sister and a famously sober rock star in order to save her unique treatment center from closing its doors. Directed by Carly Keyes. 46 min.

    Cleaner Daze (2018) is a dark comedy series about addiction, written by a recovering drug addict. The story follows a newbie drug counselor while she struggles with a crew of misfit teenage drug addicts and her own secret addiction. Starring Abigail Reno. Directed by Tess Sweet. 55 min.

    Ciao Manhattan (1972) Essential viewing for anyone intrigued by 60’s pop culture, the New York art scene and the Summer of Love. Ciao is a thinly disguised biopic of the last days of “tragic muse” and Andy Warhol superstar Edie Sedgwick, who died two weeks after the film was released. Directed by David Weisman and John Palmer. 84 min.

    Do No Harm: The Opioid Epidemic (2018) Today’s opioid epidemic is the worst man-made public health epidemic in American history. Every year we lose more people to opioid deaths than were killed in the entire Vietnam War. Narrated by Golden Globe winning actor Ed Harris. Directed by Harry Wiland. 90 min.

    I’m looking forward to RRFF and seeing Buschel again. This tireless innovator is now 24 years clean and sober. Man, I wish I had his energy.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Joan Jett's Bad Reputation

    Joan Jett's Bad Reputation

    “I’ve been hurt,” says Jett. “I’ve had my head split open by a beer bottle, a rib cracked by getting a battery thrown at me—this big metal rig thing….just because I was a girl, I’d get spit on.”

    Bad Reputation is a loving tribute to legendary musician and feminist icon Joan Jett. The trailblazer turned 60 on September 22 and keeps on rocking. At 13, Jett’s parents granted a wish by buying her an electric guitar and amp for Christmas. She had no idea how to play it. At her first lesson, the male teacher said, “Girls don’t play rock and roll.”

    Then the film explodes. Jett screams into a mic:

    I don’t give a damn about my reputation!
    You’re living in the past, it’s a new generation.
    A girl can do what she wants to do and that’s
    What I’m gonna do.

    Go Joan Jett!

    In an exclusive interview for The Fix, director Kevin Kerslake (As I AM: The Life and Times of DJ AM, Nirvana’s Come As You Are, Bob Marley Legend Remixed) told me, “This film is Joan laid bare. Viewers get to process it on that level. I don’t feel there was anything verboten, you know, forbidden to ask, so the dynamics of her life play out as you see them in the film.”

    Clearly, Kerslake is a fan. He sings her praises, particularly when it comes to Jett’s habit of championing others.

    “Joan’s soul is all about rock and roll,” he told me. “She’s an activist too—for animals and for people. She has produced a lot of albums for musicians she believes in. And, if she gets credit, she immediately ropes in other people to share it with. She’ll never take it solo.”

    Right before receiving that first guitar, Jett had read about a club in Hollywood called the Rodney Bingenheimer English Disco. They were the first to play music by Blondie, Iggy Pop, Bowie, and the Sex Pistols. Archival footage shows boys and girls in heavy makeup, fishnets, leather and sporting nutty hairdos, short skirts and platform shoes.

    “It was a disco for teens,” says Jett in the film. “If you were like 21, you were already too old….It was a club full of weirdos in a city that’s known to be full of weirdos.”

    She says the club played “raunchy music” and some of it she describes as “clean dirty,” meaning it used suggestive double-entendres. But some of it, she says, was just plain dirty.

    “That music hit you in a spot that you couldn’t really describe,” says Jett, “and it made you want to do it. There was [a feeling] down there,” she says, alluding to her vagina. “But as a kid, you can’t quite put your finger on it, yet.”

    Realizing the unintended pun, she grins.

    At 15, Jett was determined to prove that girls could play as well as boys. She formed the all-girl punk band, The Runaways. They became a tight group of friends with the electric energy of adolescents. It’s exciting to watch the ballsy young chicks owning the stage, with Cherie Currie singing their biggest song, “Cherry Bomb.”

    The band showed more promise and gained a bigger following, but the “boys club” of rock ’n roll hated it; apparently their egos were threatened. The Runaways were called “cute” and “sweet,” but as their popularity grew the words changed to “slut, whore, cunt.” Jett says Jimi Hendrix had predicted that women playing rock and roll would be perceived as aliens. That proved true for The Runaways.

    “I’ve been hurt,” says Jett. “I’ve had my head split open by a beer bottle, a rib cracked by getting a battery thrown at me—this big metal rig thing….just because I was a girl, I’d get spit on.”

    In 1977, Joan Jett and her band The Runaways played at CBGBs punk club where I spent many nights of debauchery. I was into concoctions of crystal meth, cocaine, and Bacardi rum, which led to delusions. My skewed thinking told me if I memorized a musician’s lyrics, we had a relationship. Joan Jett knew me as much as I knew her. She seemed invincible.

    When the band fell apart, so did Jett.

    Director Kerslake told me: “She was [self] medicating over losing her band. It was a very dramatic experience in her life—both spiritually and physically. And it almost killed her.”

    “How did I personally deal with the crumbling of The Runaways?” Joan asks in the film. “I drank a lot, starting at eight in the morning.”

    Convinced that LA was laughing at her, Jett imagined everyone thinking: “We told you it wouldn’t work. We said you couldn’t do it.” That’s when she could no longer tolerate living in Tinseltown and split. She moved into a home in the ’burbs that became a party house. Old photos show a crowd of drunk and stoned pals draped around her living room. Jett had sunk to a dark place. Finally, Chrissie Hynde of The Pretenders pulled her aside and said, “Honey, you gotta pull it together.”

    Jett says, “I was angry. I didn’t know how to make sense of a world that gives girls shit for playing guitars. I thought, ‘Don’t you guys have more important things to be upset about?’”

    One night she became very sick, sweating profusely, and was rushed to the hospital. Kerslake said it was luck that Jett survived. The rocker was told she had a serious heart infection.

    “I considered that a perfect metaphor,” said Kerslake.

    After her diagnosis, Jett knew that her body could not take much more abuse.

    “I thought, I’m going to fucking kill myself.” She quickly clarifies for the viewers that she means accidentally, not by suicide.

    Throughout the film I felt tremendous compassion for Jett. I mean, I could see her strength; she comes across as someone who knows who she is. Despite all that she has accomplished, she also shows sincere humility and gratitude. (Side note: she looks fantastic and still exudes sex appeal.) But I wondered what happens internally to a pioneering performer like her who works for decades in what’s known as a tough industry—especially for women. She’d been just a kid when misogyny was unleashed on her simply because she was a girl who loved playing guitar.

    Then, something beautiful happened. Kenny Laguna came into the picture. He had been a successful hitmaker for bubblegum bands when he first met Jett. She was still drinking then and he describes the beginning of their collaboration:

    “She was hanging out with a bunch of people who all ended up dead.”

    It was true, she’d gotten herself in with a tough crowd that included Sex Pistols’ bass player, Sid Vicious, his girlfriend Nancy, and Stiv Bators, the lead singer of the Dead Boys. Jett refers to herself as “a mess” when she met Laguna. But the musicmaker and his wife Meryl believed in Jett’s talent and recognized her potential so they were willing to take a chance on her despite how beat-up she looked. With Laguna’s help, Jett became a successful solo artist and released the albums Bad Reputation and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll. Together they started Blackheart Records in the early 80s.

    I was curious how she stopped drinking. That wasn’t disclosed in the film. My guess is that she flat-out wouldn’t talk about that publicly. The movie implies that she just said that’s it and quit. Her hardheaded black and white approach to life would support that method for sure. Still, I would’ve liked to have seen that in the movie. But for me, the most pressing question was about Jett’s love life. Did she have any long-term, significant, romantic relationships? That wasn’t discussed either and I was surprised about that missing chunk of her life. But then Jett herself answers that question at the end of this very engaging flick. (I watched it five times!)

    “Depending on what you think is a normal, regular life,” she says, “being in a band, you’re pretty much all-consumed with it. Is that healthy? I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. Probably not super, but, you know, it’s what I enjoy. I think it makes it difficult to have relationships. That would probably be, if you want to call it that, a sacrifice. To say music is my mate would be a pretty fair statement and I get a lot from it. But it’s not a person. And I think I know the difference.”

    Jett and the Lagunas have been together since 1979 and their affection for each other is evident in the film. They consider each other family. “Joan also has a very close group of friends who all participated in this movie,” Kerslake added.

    This woman smashed the glass ceiling she faced. During her expansive career she’s been racking up multiple platinum and gold records, Top 40 singles, and the blockbuster anthem, “I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll.” She was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2015 and Bad Reputation includes a moving clip of her receiving a standing ovation from rock legends—her peers.

    Bad Reputation is now available on iTunes and Amazon Prime.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • "I: The Series" Exposes the Underside of Trauma and Healing

    "I: The Series" Exposes the Underside of Trauma and Healing

    We Q&A with filmmaker Mary Beth Eversole on trauma, the inspirations for her new series, and the challenges of making an indie film.

    Mary Beth Eversole is the creator and executive producer of I: The Series, in pre-production. The short film series explores the damage of trauma—from ordinary events to major catastrophes—and its impact on individuals as they learn how to heal. Episode 1 takes us into the mind of MB, a traumatized person dealing with an eating disorder, body dysmorphia, and PTSD from multiple traumas. Using “the magic of mirrors, lighting, prosthetics, and CGI editing, we watch as MB’s nightmare comes to life right before her eyes.”

    The Fix recently had the pleasure of discussing this project with Eversole. 

    The Fix: What spurred you to pursue filmmaking?

    Mary Beth Eversole: I am an actress, voice over (VO) artist, musician, and content creator. I have acted and taught and performed music since I was very young. Voiceover came after I had a traumatic car accident that ended my operatic and musical theater singing career. I had to re-evaluate how I would still have my voice be heard as an artist. It was a very troubled time for me that included PTSD and depression.

    One of my student’s parents suggested I try voiceover work and got me an audition at iHeart Radio in Northern Colorado. The producer signed me as a contracted VO artist that day! From there, I continued to do plays and began to study the art of acting in film, which is different from acting on stage. I love the pace of it, the fact that I could play several different characters within the span of a short time frame, and that I met so many amazing creatives and collaborators. As I booked more on-camera and voiceover work, I began to learn a lot about the behind-the-scenes work and what goes into making a film or TV show happen. I realized that my voice could continue to be heard through filmmaking, not only in characters that others wrote for me, but also in what I wrote for others and myself.

    I have had a very traumatized life. I have battled anorexia, body dysmorphia, drug use, depression and PTSD. I have been hospitalized, worked through a treatment plan, been in continuous therapy, experienced 12-step programs, and done a lot of healing through music, film, theater, and other healing forces. People tell me my life story is inspiring to them and that I should share it. I realized a few years ago that it was through filmmaking that I would be able to do that and inspire others to know they are not alone and they can heal.

    Describe some challenges that you encountered at the start.

    I will say I encounter challenges all along the route during the process of making a film or TV series as I think most filmmakers do. Many of the challenges have always come from funding or lack thereof. As an indie filmmaker, funding is usually scarce unless you know someone with deep pockets or have an in with a studio, which most indie filmmakers do not.

    The same challenges are popping up again for “I”, the film series I am currently working on. We need $65,000 in order to film and edit the first episode of “I”. Why? Because we are paying our crew what they should be paid and the film involves many prosthetics and computer generated imagery (CGI) effects, both expensive ticket items for a film. If we were a full feature film being created by a studio with the same storyline, it would cost upwards of $455k and that is on the super low end. Other feature films that have had similar amounts of prosthetics and CGI with studio backing have been around the $15 million range. Therefore, in the grand scheme, $65,000 is not much, but to a small indie film like us, it is a huge mountain to climb.

    While we are doing great at building our crowd, it has been more challenging to find those funds. Currently we are running a crowdfunding campaign on Indiegogo at www.ithemovie.org and we would love to have more people head there to make donations. The cool thing about crowdfunding is the donations do not have to be huge. While it will help us to get a few $1,000-$10,000 donors, the majority of the donations will come from people who donate $15-$100. Social media and direct message shares are also super helpful to get the word out and find more backers. If we do not reach our goal through Indiegogo, we will be applying for grants, but those are very competitive and the likelihood of us getting much funding that way is very slim.

    How did you arrive at the idea for the “I” film series?

    “I” was originally just one short film, based on my personal life experience with trauma and how it led to anorexia, body dysmorphia, depression, and PTSD. My traumas include growing up with a parent with an undiagnosed mental disorder, boyfriend emotional abuse as a teen, two sexual assaults, being diagnosed with 7 major food allergies and at least 15 other food sensitivities that put me in the hospital multiple times and led to organ failure, and two major hit and run car accidents, one that ended my music career as I knew it. I have had more trauma, but those were the major ones that resulted in the mental disorders I still deal with.

    I was watching the Netflix film To The Bone and I realized that this was the first time a dramatic film or TV show had gone this in depth with what actually happens with someone suffering from an eating disorder and body dysmorphia. I also realized this film, along with others about the same subject, still only focused on the external symptoms, what people see on the outside. While the film went into the thought process of an eating disordered person a bit through actions and dialogue, it still only skirted it. Furthermore, I realized it did not talk much about what led to the eating disorder.

    When the film was done, I had an overwhelming urge to write down my experience in script form, and to give a true inside account of what happens in my head when that “critical voice”—or as I call it ED—takes over my ability to function as a human being. The script was there, all there, instantly.

    I wrote it down. [Then] I read it, and read it again, and I realized this was how I was going to inspire others to seek help, heal, and how I might possibly be able to prevent these mental disorders caused by trauma from happening in the first place. From there I showed it to a good friend and director, Brad Etter, because I knew he needed to be the one to direct it. His eye for cinematography is beautiful and I knew he would instantly understand what I was going for. He said yes immediately. After that, we began cobbling together the crew heads to come up with ideas for how we could get this film made and what it would cost.

    All along the way, we have had doors opening and people who I never thought I could get to come on to this project attach themselves to it. In fact, it was Lori Alan, celebrity voiceover artist, actress, and the beautiful voice of episode 1 for this film series, who suggested I consider turning it into a series. I decided that instead of making it a series about just my life, I wanted to make each episode about a different trauma and set of repercussions and healing forces based on true stories from what our fan base shared on our social media pages.

    Which film or films have inspired you and why?

    The films that came out this past year and addressed true life events and movements in a dramatic way, like Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri and To The Bone, as well as TV shows like Chicago Med and Law & Order: SVU that take headlines and dramatically interpret them, have influenced me. My film is based on true stories, but told through dramatic film, which gives us the liberty to construct the inside of the mind and interpret how it is seen through the eye of the traumatized person artistically while still getting the story and the message across.

    My director, Brad Etter, and my director of photography, Terrence Magee, are both using inspiration for the look of the film from the Guillermo del Torro films The Shape of Water, Pan’s Labyrinth, and Crimson Peak.

    What surprised you the most in the filmmaking process?

    First, how hard it is to fund a film. It truly is very hard! However, I think what has surprised me the most with this project has been the outpouring of support I have received from the people who are now crew, core team members for our campaign, and just fans of what I am trying to do by bringing awareness to trauma and how we heal from it, working to break the stigma surrounding these issues. I have received countless messages from friends and family saying “keep going, what you are doing is amazing.” I have received more specific messages from friends and colleagues who are or were in the social work and psychology fields that have given me advice, as well as words of encouragement saying they have been looking for a project to do this for a long time. We even have interest already from two health clinics who want us to share this series in their clinic when it is made!

    Find more info at Indiegogo and connect on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. 

    (This interview was condensed and edited for clarity.)

    View the original article at thefix.com