AND NOW ... My New York & NY film school misadventure saga from 2000
I doubt many people (or anyone) will read this; honestly, "personal catharsis" was the only real motivation for writing. True, a full decade has already passed, water under the bridge. But this mishap has had lasting consequences on a financial, social and psychological level.
You'll know exactly what I'm talking about when everything is said and done.
Moving to NYC was never my original intention to begin with. It was merely a ruled out "possibility" during my final year of high school when I was considering future career ideas. The first choice was to become a real estate agent, which could have worked very much in my favor until the "housing bubble" burst. Another idea was an accounting degree.
Even at the tender age of 18, I knew anything "artistic" would net little to no income. Nevertheless, I saw graphic design as one exception compared to other artistic "endeavors". I could always get a degree/licensing in some marketable field, do graphic design/animation gigs on the side, save up, and one day start a project of my own, i.e. a feature-length animated film. The relocation spot I had in mind was Los Angeles.
That was my initial plan.
But that wouldn't happen (and won't ever now, as far as I'm concerned.)
What would happen was the very idea I had ruled out, and I guess you could say I was hoodwinked into it.
Well ... we'll let the judging be up to the reader.
Here's how the mess got started ...
... and this was only the beginning:
Summer 1999
Out of boredom and curiosity, I request a New York Film Academy catalog to see what kind of "instruction" and "enlightenment" the school had to offer for thousands of dollars. Right away I notice that there were discrepancies in the program descriptions: Every student film would be B&W and without sound, and this wasn't mentioned anywhere in the booklet. In addition, the school had no transferable college credit. The NYFA admissions representatives were constantly sugarcoating and white-washing stuff via e-mail and over the phone, and at the end, they hadn't really answered many of my questions.
So I decided at that time, the hell with it, no point in even thinking about going there. You could rent or buy a silent 16mm movie camera + film stock for much less than the NYFA's tuition, and all you would need is an instruction manual and film developing/editing costs. Furthermore, filmmaking is a hobby, not a career. Even if you landed a paying gig for yourself, everything would be on a project-only basis. How you would go about things for the remainder of time is anyone's guess. (And what if your full-time job overlapped with your film project jobs? It's either one or the other.) Most of all, you don't even need film school to get a film job, unless you're going to school just to build industry contacts (contacts that often don't add up to much, if anything at all.)
After I rejected the NYFA idea or moving to NYC, my aunt (in Manhattan) somehow got word of what I was doing and encouraged me to change my mind.
Apparently ignorant of the facts, my aunt described the NYFA as "prestigious", "upstanding" and "academic", almost sounding like one of their admissions reps. When these sentiments failed to grab me at first, she advised me of a Bronx relative whose then-boyfriend was an Oscar-nominated/Sundance-winning director, as well as "family connections" in four of the five NYC boroughs. Bottom line, if I decided to move to NYC, I would be provided with "many networking connections" and "I would get help every step of the way" as far as jobs and apartments were concerned. My aunt even told me that there were "job contacts waiting".
The aunt never went into further detail about these "job leads". Nevertheless, she repeated these assurances for many months to my parents, one of whom was immediately sold by the idea. I'd also get calls late into the night from the aunt about the new "employment leads in New York" that she found.
Even so, the decision was still mine. But all of a sudden - with these assurances considered - the once-rejected idea of moving to New York sounded very promising. Who could turn down something like that? A chance to live in the most populated, extravagant of American cities, have family contacts at your fingertips, and an insider in the movie industry, to boot?
At that point, I was convinced. How I was talked into attending the NYFA is a matter I'll get to later
I wish there was a happy ending to this story, but everyone knows where I would end up when all was said and done. Remember, from get go, this was all on my own savings. Encouragement - but ZERO financial support - from one of my parents. In fact, seeing as how I had a "deadline" to be out of the house by age 18 - regardless of what I chose to do - I didn't have much of a choice. My parents feared that if I moved to the originally intended destination of Los Angeles, I would be "boomeranged" back home due to loss of money and lack of "knowing anyone" in L.A. - whereas in New York, there was "family".
June 2000
Fast-forward to mid-June 2000, a week after I graduate from high school, visit the San Francisco Bay Area, then fly to my grandparent's retirement community in Miami, a four-plane red-eye. It would be the final trip I'd ever take with my father (deceased 2007), and the last time I'd see my grandmother (deceased 2008).
In the final part of June, I arrive at LaGuardia Airport (Queens, NY). I take a cab to my aunt's flat in Greenwich Village, have sushi at a Japanese restaurant down the street and then head back to her apartment where she proceeds to go over her plan and rules. It went kinda like this:
"Rule #1: Under no circumstance can you stay in my apartment, so don't ask. This will be a step-by-step process but you will get help."
"Rule #2: Heed all words of my advice. I know my way around here, you don't know your way around here, so don't go it alone without consulting me first."
"Rule #3: Never question my judgment. I'm helping you and I know what I'm doing."
The first place I'd stay at while attending the NYFA was a Brooklyn brownstone owned by Susan, a friend of my aunt. While I wasn't charged any "rent" to be there, I did make several good faith offers to pay something, all of which were turned down. My aunt explained Susan was just lonely and needed company because her common-law husband, Desmond, died of a stroke six months earlier. Susan's dwelling was a 1-bedroom, 3rd floor flat with a 6' x 12' study room next to the staircase corridor. I slept in the study room.
Despite Brooklyn's longtime notoriety, this particular neighborhood - Park Slope - wasn't so bad. It was very convenient - almost a double of Manhattan's finer areas. Susan's brownstone was a block away from a grocery store, across the street from an "art house" movie theater on Flatbush Ave, and directly across the street from a Jamaican bakery and Haitian barbershop. On a nightly basis, I always noticed the employees sitting outside on the sidewalk and chatting. This got to be a little annoying during the evening hours as the study room window faced them, but after awhile, it was easy to zone out. Just people speaking French and the street noise of NYC. It could have been a lottttt worse, like rap music from a mega-decibel ghetto blaster.
Susan's flat was also up the street from Grand Army Plaza Subway Station, which is where I did my commutes to-&-from NYFA's Dalton School site in Upper East Side Manhattan. I always thought of New York City as being crowded, dirty, scary and dangerous, but this wasn't entirely true at first. In fact, my morning walks and rides on the train were pleasant and uneventful, despite the turmoil lying in wait ahead. Although I had low expectations in advance of the NYFA, the aunt 'embedded' in my mind that I would get my money back once I followed her "employment leads" and got a full-time job, in addition to assisting on film productions through these so-called "family connections".
Until this all proved to be one big lie, I had the opportunity to soak up the eye-catching architecture of this Brooklyn neighborhood and sample morsels at local cafes/restaurants - basically, take everything at my leisure.
The orientation day at the Dalton School (where the NYFA was holding its program) revealed much about NYFA's cheesiness. Circa Summer 2000, The school was renovating the ground floor of the building; although there was an abundance of security guards on the premises, there were also potent paint fumes each time you walked in/out of the lobby. During the orientation and introduction there was a Q&A seminar after students had their picture taken for photo I.D. Most enrollees (excluding me) were accompanied by both parents, and it appeared a lot of them were also "kept in the dark" about the program syllabus. One family inquired whether there would be a screenwriting course. Nope. Would actors be provided to us? Nope. The NYFA had photo headshots available, but we were told chances were low that any actor would work for free. After the orientation ended, I noticed 2 families demand a full tuition refund from the admissions coordinator who answered all the questions. Not quite sure if they were successful, but there appeared to be less people in attendance once the program started...wow.
The other enrollees definitely stood out: Almost every kid was white. And male. And rich. Most were children of real estate barons, politicians and network TV executives. In fact, out of 60 students, less than a dozen paid the tuition on their own without pillaging mommy and daddy's wallet (One of those poor souls being me, of course). Notwithstanding, none of the kids seemed snobby, spoiled or selfish - everyone was easy to get along with. Every student, except for one...I'll go over the details on him later.
Back to the NYFA: During my time there, none of the instructors had ever worked on a feature length film before. Not even as an assistant. Most were in their 20's, actively attending NYU's Tisch School and had limited experience besides work on unknown short films. Peter, the deputy instructor, had a marketing degree from a Colorado university and made self-financed sports documentaries, that's it. Contrariwise to what had been advertised, there were NO celebrity actor/director/producer guest speakers. A hard-earned $6,000 of my money down the drain, just to be "mentored" by amateurs.
The aunt looked at this situation differently, of course. Because the school catered to upper class kids, she thought "upper class" meant film industry insiders. That's how my aunt manipulated me into enrolling in the NYFA, in addition to using her New York "knowledge" and "experience" against my skepticism. She also claimed she talked to the parents of "NYFA alumni" (no names given) who had good views of the school.
Meanwhile, back in Brooklyn, the homeowner/boarder rapport between Susan and myself began to sour. Both of us held different views on life philosophies and politics. Her study room had two filled bookshelves of Leftist and feminist literature that she always encouraged I read like a proselyte selling "Jesus" to someone. During these rants and raves, Susan also revealed herself to be a local architect for the 2000 Nader presidential campaign...erm, need I say more? I think you get the picture as to why we loved each other so much.
Another troubling aspect about living in that place (apart from Susan playing her deceased husband's 3 favorite records daily) was the way she treated her two cats. The older cat had scabs and scars from a flea allergy, but Susan insisted the feline was just "self-loathing" and blamed itself for the death of her husband, because that's when the sores and scratching allegedly started. I volunteered at the SPCA back in '96, have owned cats and dogs myself, and I know a flea allergy when I see one. THAT WAS A SEVERE FLEA ALLERGY. The other cat - an older kitten - defecated all over Susan's condo, mainly on the plants, couch, chairs, floor, etc. We catlovers know they would only do something like this if their owner a.) doesn't change the litter box frequently, or b.) owner pisses off their cat. In this case, you could throw away any consideration of a.) (One would think these so-called "progressive activists" take better care of their pets, but I guess not.)
The final two weeks of staying with Susan (and attending the NYFA) was when the personality differences took a VERY nasty turn. I don't know why, or if this only happens to me, but some people try to play the "one-up" game whenever they're put on the spot, or whenever I don't share their views ... or when they know I see their weakness(es). No one ever wins that "game" with me, and you never want to engage me in something like that when I'm in the wrong mood. Indeed, that contributed largely to the discord between Susan and myself.
Of course, my bad mood was caused by something entirely different...
I tried to make the best I could out of the NYFA experience, which wasn't easy. The first 2 morning hours consisted of the "main instructor" - a Filipino dude with an ugly temper - boasting about himself, and how he'll one day become a famous "writer/producer" (Ten years later, this guy still makes unremarkable short films and still makes an ass out of himself as an NYFA instructor - ironic?) The next two hours we would watch clips of classic movies, in which the instructor would describe the angles, the panning, the fading, the lighting, etc (That requires paid schooling?). Then there was a one hour lunch break. When everyone returned, we got into groups of 4 ("production groups") to discuss what we would be making in the way of a story (erm, "silent short film" story). It wasn't until the last two weeks of the program that we even got our hands on a camera. That narrows down what the $6000 was spent on.
Pathetic, eh?
Regardless of everyone's social class, there were two kinds of students in the Summer 2000 course: Rich kids sent there as alternative Summer school, who had no interest in filmmaking (so they had no opinion about the school's "inferiority"), OR kids with an interest in film, and in attendance because they thought the NYFA would lend them techniques from "insiders." The latter group very much shared my views. However, rather than being vocal about it, these kids generally ditched class, smoked cigarettes with the security guards downstairs and only mentioned their dissatisfaction if the topic was brought up. The instructors noticed what was going on, but rather than considering a group of people, they picked a scapegoat to minimize the appearance of negativity.
You probably know who that scapegoat would be.
When it was far from obvious that I wasn't the only one complaining (other students even considered the possibility of a BBB grievance), the instructors "invited" a short filmmaker/"acting expert" whose particular field of expertise was "body language". What they didn't tell us was that she was on their payroll as an employee, not a "guest speaker", which had been claimed. Indeed, motor movement is a major part of movie acting, but so is dialogue. The lady referenced Samantha Morton's performance in the movie Sweet and Lowdown, explaining how the character was mute, yet was also nominated for an Academy Award. The problem with such an analogy is that "Sweet and Lowdown" wasn't a silent film, and a "mute" main character is uncommon. However, neither the lady (or her co-workers at the NYFA) taught anyone how to select and "direct actors". Nothing was picked up there. The only relevant information they taught us (when they had the time) was how to use a camera, arrange lighting and edit the reels. Everything that - again - would cost less than $6000.
End of July, 2000
So the NYFA session comes close to ending. Most of the instructors hate me with a passion. I'm looked at by most of the students as an anti-hero pariah and by others (which Jeffrey, a student from New Jersey put it) as "well intentioned, correct, but a bit overwrought and eccentric." The only student who truly enjoyed the program (and browned up to the instructors) was Eduardo, who was originally from Mexico City by way of Texas. Eduardo was the only student I didn't get along with, but I don't remember the exact reason. I think the guy was the narcissistic egomaniac-type, and other people didn't pick up on it as much as I did. I also recall the guy being passive aggressive, saying provocative things under breath, and...well, I didn't like him, and he didn't like me. Actually, come to remember it, no one really liked Eduardo.
Curiously, the instructors "rewarded" him with willing actors to be used for his final film. No other student (besides Eduardo) was extended this courtesy. Other NYFA students had to use fellow students (if they weren't occupied with their own projects), and friends or family to compensate as "actors".
On the other hand, I managed to get in contact with the actors from the NYFA's photo headshots - the instructors claimed this rarely happened, and that most of them were either too busy, would only work for money, or would only work on full length features. Everyone asked how I did it. I told them there was no secret. I simply left a voicemail with my name and phone number, told them I was a student at the NYFA, went over the synopsis of my film and a description of the character they were being considered for. Other students called the actors on their cellphones, seconds after looking at the photo resumes, and said something along the lines of, "yeah, hi, I'm doing a student film and I saw your photo, and I have a part for you, call me back, (leaves number, then hangs up.)". They got no response. I guess I was a little more specific?
My personal plan to make the "best" out of the NYFA experience was to turn my final project into a short film with dialogue and sound. (The NYFA's objective for the final project was to make a "music video" - we would still be using a silent Arriflex-16 MOS camera, but would dub a music clip during editing stages.) I had intended to film each "take" with a Panasonic VHS camera in addition to the NYFA silent Arriflex camera. This would not only capture the dialogue from the character's mouths but would also make it easier to sync during post-production stages when the 16mm silent reel was transferred to VHS. The main instructor mocked the idea, saying it would be impossible to perfectly sync. (Apparently the instructor never saw El Mariachi by Robert Rodriguez, who did the same thing when he was making the latter film...and succeeded.)
My idea wouldn't work out, however, and for entirely different reasons: For one, I needed my folks back home to send my video camera to New York. Neither parent was privy to do that immediately, even if I was willing to pay for shipping. Both parents were going through a "marital crisis" at the time and pointed fingers at each other when I was asking for their help: "Oh, ask your father, ask your mother, ask your father, ask your mother, ask your father, etc." By the time both parents had their wits together, it was too late, I was long done with the NYFA. My second problem was that the scenes containing the "moving mouths" mysteriously didn't develop. Whether I had the video camera to record the dialogue or not, these scenes were critical to the story. Without them, the film wouldn't make sense and I'd have to explain to the audience the film's plot. The NYFA instructors denied they had any role in the disappearance of the "missing footage" - instead, they claimed the takes were either under/overexposed, out of focus, or that there was a glitch during the developing stage. One thing the instructors didn't explain was the fact there was also a shortage of film once I got my takes back. Other students got "blank space" back. For the entire time this issue was discussed, the instructors appeared slightly amused in addition to being defensive.
Shortly after I finished editing my final NYFA film, Peter, the deputy instructor, calls me aside and motions me towards the men's restroom door in the Dalton School hall, where someone deliberately bent the faucet spigots. That "someone" was not me, and I found the accusation insulting considering they had no evidence and because I wasn't the only student holding negative views about the school. Peter didn't really say much about that truth, only "either way, we're going to have to reimburse Dalton for the damage." I told him that I could care less, because I wasn't the responsible party for the vandalism. I may be vindictive, but destruction of property is not my calling card.
The aunt had been keeping close tabs on everything going on. She was always on the phone with Susan in regards to my stay there - it almost became a telephone version of the show Big Brother. In the case of the NYFA, the aunt intended to communicate with the instructors - rather than me - in regards to what I was doing there, which they refused. So she talked to me instead. Her telecoms got predictable very fast: Consistent defense of the NYFA, claims that I was violating her "rules" by "questioning her judgment", and an excuse for every negative talking point I made about the school.
I let her know that I had no plans to attend their "graduation ceremony and party" at the end of July. The aunt was quick to discourage and got personal when getting me to reconsider: she mentioned the fact neither parent "had time" to attend my school graduation ceremonies, and how it would be rewarding to her (and perhaps me) to "get acknowledged for something in front of family members." The aunt also mentioned a dinner afterward at a sushi bar (on my grandparent's money), which was said to include not only the Bronx relatives but also Ray, the award-winning film director in the family.
Sounds nice, eh? Heh heh heh, just you wait.
On the eve of the Friday night "screening ceremony", I take an express train from Brooklyn to NYFA's Union Square headquarters, arriving about 3 hours early to beat the "subway rush hour crowds". I intended to let the administrators know ahead of time that I wanted my reel back after the ceremony ended, because they charged an extra $40 for 16mm-to-VHS transfers. (That's right, forty extra bucks. Not included in their pricey tuition. And they didn't even give you cans to store your reels.) I found a video production company nearby that was much more economical, but to get the deal, I had to get my reel back that night since the transfer guy at the production company was only in the office on Mondays.
I walk around the NYFA's headquarters to search for one for the instructors. I run into Peter, who introduces me to Jerry Sherlock, the NYFA's founder/controller. Considering everything that went on previously, I never fully understood the encounter.
I explained to Peter that I wanted my film reel back after the screening of all the student films, since it turned out inferior, and after that night, I didn't want to have anything more to do with the school. Peter kept on changing the subject or playing down what I said, requesting to discuss the matter later that evening.
After all the films were viewed, a small reception with light snacks and drinks was held. Some of the Bronx relatives had made it to the screening. The aunt had also invited some of her friends to the reception, including a middle-aged couple, Leslie and Florian (who were originally from Austria but now living in NYC) and also Alee, an aspiring "Brazilian dance choreographer" who had a small role in my final NYFA film. Alee and her NYFD fiance (whom my aunt had also invited to the ceremony) were friends with my aunt.
As I was looking for Peter to discuss retrieval of my film reel, Liz, a student in my class, approaches.
"I liked your film", she says.
"Are you kidding?", I asked. "It was a low-quality POS. Just like this fucking place".
"Oh, I don't know about that," she said.
We chatted a bit. I had reason to believe Liz's compliment was little more than flirtation. Ultimately, she was someone who was more interested in me than vice versa.
But that didn't mean a connection couldn't be limited to friendship.
Liz started initiating a "coffee date" with me before she was to return home to Westchester that night, when my aunt approaches to ask "who Eddie is", referring to Eduardo, the obnoxious pupil in the NYFA class. I ask why she wanted to know, but the aunt gave no specifics. I didn't think much of it. Knowing her "new age & peace philosophies", I assumed she wanted to broker a "truce" since there was understanding of my disdain for that guy.
Nope, not a truce.
The aunt approaches Eduardo, smiles, tells him she is my aunt and proceeds to divulge personal and malicious information about me.
I notice what's going on while I was talking to Liz, and I approach both my aunt and Eduardo with my arms crossed as the aunt continued to smile and shit-talk...I WAS RIGHT THERE.
When the aunt stopped talking to Eduardo, I interject, "Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I'm not going to make it for dinner tonight, I'm going to meet someone and her friends at a cafe in Chelsea. Just wanted to let you know so you don't wonder where I am later. Okay?"
Notwithstanding the shit-talking, I sort of figured Ray wasn't going to show up and that was just a ruse to get me out there that night. Why would someone be invited to an "event" but only show up for the dinner part of it? Didn't make sense at all.
Nevertheless, the aunt wanted me to change my mind.
Not verbatim, but this is the general idea as to how the conversation went:
AUNT: C'mon, your relatives have not seen you in so many years. I think they have some constructive feedback for your final film!
ME: No, no thanks, I already made my decision. And I learned back in grade school that you shouldn't share a table with someone who badmouths you.
AUNT: Badmouthing? What are you talking about? I wasn't badmouthing you.
ME: Hmm, yeah, I guess I was just seeing and hearing things while you were talking to that punk-ass "pendejo" motherfucker over there.
AUNT: I don't think that's very appropriate language.
ME: Yeah, well ... neither is badmouthing your own family.
AUNT: I wasn't badmouthing you, I was only talking to Eddie. I think this young man has very admirable traits that you would learn from.
ME: Whatever. Maybe you should invite him to the dinner instead of me? Gotta go. I have places to go and people to meet. Adios!
And I walk back to Liz and more or less explained to her what had just happened, since it did make a "small scene."
I then notice the aunt conferring with my cousin Michael from the Bronx, who gave a "second voice" in getting me to change my mind & attend the dinner gathering. He apologized if I was "offended" by my aunt's behavior, but that I should be "forgiving" because she "never had a daughter or son of her own" (not sure what that had to do with anything?) When I caved in, rebuffed Liz and went to dinner with family members instead of the coffee date, my intuition was right, Ray was not there, and the claim was just a manipulative ruse to meet my aunt's "wishes". The aunt defended her lie, as did the other family members attending the dinner.
I was fed up with everything that happened, and actually planned on leaving New York City right after the NYFA ended. The aunt balked at this, called my parents back home and encouraged me to stay longer because she had a "wealth of family and mutual contacts" for job hunting and networking.
Or so she claimed.
I knew I would have to start over if I went home. On the other hand, If I stayed, I thought I would have a chance at something. Like finding a job. Or PA work on a feature length film via the cousin's movie director boyfriend. I had a bad overall feeling about things, but once again I didn't follow the hunch.
I sure wish I did.
TO BE CONTINUED
You'll know exactly what I'm talking about when everything is said and done.
Moving to NYC was never my original intention to begin with. It was merely a ruled out "possibility" during my final year of high school when I was considering future career ideas. The first choice was to become a real estate agent, which could have worked very much in my favor until the "housing bubble" burst. Another idea was an accounting degree.
Even at the tender age of 18, I knew anything "artistic" would net little to no income. Nevertheless, I saw graphic design as one exception compared to other artistic "endeavors". I could always get a degree/licensing in some marketable field, do graphic design/animation gigs on the side, save up, and one day start a project of my own, i.e. a feature-length animated film. The relocation spot I had in mind was Los Angeles.
That was my initial plan.
But that wouldn't happen (and won't ever now, as far as I'm concerned.)
What would happen was the very idea I had ruled out, and I guess you could say I was hoodwinked into it.
Well ... we'll let the judging be up to the reader.
Here's how the mess got started ...
... and this was only the beginning:
Summer 1999
Out of boredom and curiosity, I request a New York Film Academy catalog to see what kind of "instruction" and "enlightenment" the school had to offer for thousands of dollars. Right away I notice that there were discrepancies in the program descriptions: Every student film would be B&W and without sound, and this wasn't mentioned anywhere in the booklet. In addition, the school had no transferable college credit. The NYFA admissions representatives were constantly sugarcoating and white-washing stuff via e-mail and over the phone, and at the end, they hadn't really answered many of my questions.
So I decided at that time, the hell with it, no point in even thinking about going there. You could rent or buy a silent 16mm movie camera + film stock for much less than the NYFA's tuition, and all you would need is an instruction manual and film developing/editing costs. Furthermore, filmmaking is a hobby, not a career. Even if you landed a paying gig for yourself, everything would be on a project-only basis. How you would go about things for the remainder of time is anyone's guess. (And what if your full-time job overlapped with your film project jobs? It's either one or the other.) Most of all, you don't even need film school to get a film job, unless you're going to school just to build industry contacts (contacts that often don't add up to much, if anything at all.)
After I rejected the NYFA idea or moving to NYC, my aunt (in Manhattan) somehow got word of what I was doing and encouraged me to change my mind.
Apparently ignorant of the facts, my aunt described the NYFA as "prestigious", "upstanding" and "academic", almost sounding like one of their admissions reps. When these sentiments failed to grab me at first, she advised me of a Bronx relative whose then-boyfriend was an Oscar-nominated/Sundance-winning director, as well as "family connections" in four of the five NYC boroughs. Bottom line, if I decided to move to NYC, I would be provided with "many networking connections" and "I would get help every step of the way" as far as jobs and apartments were concerned. My aunt even told me that there were "job contacts waiting".
The aunt never went into further detail about these "job leads". Nevertheless, she repeated these assurances for many months to my parents, one of whom was immediately sold by the idea. I'd also get calls late into the night from the aunt about the new "employment leads in New York" that she found.
Even so, the decision was still mine. But all of a sudden - with these assurances considered - the once-rejected idea of moving to New York sounded very promising. Who could turn down something like that? A chance to live in the most populated, extravagant of American cities, have family contacts at your fingertips, and an insider in the movie industry, to boot?
At that point, I was convinced. How I was talked into attending the NYFA is a matter I'll get to later
I wish there was a happy ending to this story, but everyone knows where I would end up when all was said and done. Remember, from get go, this was all on my own savings. Encouragement - but ZERO financial support - from one of my parents. In fact, seeing as how I had a "deadline" to be out of the house by age 18 - regardless of what I chose to do - I didn't have much of a choice. My parents feared that if I moved to the originally intended destination of Los Angeles, I would be "boomeranged" back home due to loss of money and lack of "knowing anyone" in L.A. - whereas in New York, there was "family".
June 2000
Fast-forward to mid-June 2000, a week after I graduate from high school, visit the San Francisco Bay Area, then fly to my grandparent's retirement community in Miami, a four-plane red-eye. It would be the final trip I'd ever take with my father (deceased 2007), and the last time I'd see my grandmother (deceased 2008).
In the final part of June, I arrive at LaGuardia Airport (Queens, NY). I take a cab to my aunt's flat in Greenwich Village, have sushi at a Japanese restaurant down the street and then head back to her apartment where she proceeds to go over her plan and rules. It went kinda like this:
"Rule #1: Under no circumstance can you stay in my apartment, so don't ask. This will be a step-by-step process but you will get help."
"Rule #2: Heed all words of my advice. I know my way around here, you don't know your way around here, so don't go it alone without consulting me first."
"Rule #3: Never question my judgment. I'm helping you and I know what I'm doing."
The first place I'd stay at while attending the NYFA was a Brooklyn brownstone owned by Susan, a friend of my aunt. While I wasn't charged any "rent" to be there, I did make several good faith offers to pay something, all of which were turned down. My aunt explained Susan was just lonely and needed company because her common-law husband, Desmond, died of a stroke six months earlier. Susan's dwelling was a 1-bedroom, 3rd floor flat with a 6' x 12' study room next to the staircase corridor. I slept in the study room.
Despite Brooklyn's longtime notoriety, this particular neighborhood - Park Slope - wasn't so bad. It was very convenient - almost a double of Manhattan's finer areas. Susan's brownstone was a block away from a grocery store, across the street from an "art house" movie theater on Flatbush Ave, and directly across the street from a Jamaican bakery and Haitian barbershop. On a nightly basis, I always noticed the employees sitting outside on the sidewalk and chatting. This got to be a little annoying during the evening hours as the study room window faced them, but after awhile, it was easy to zone out. Just people speaking French and the street noise of NYC. It could have been a lottttt worse, like rap music from a mega-decibel ghetto blaster.
Susan's flat was also up the street from Grand Army Plaza Subway Station, which is where I did my commutes to-&-from NYFA's Dalton School site in Upper East Side Manhattan. I always thought of New York City as being crowded, dirty, scary and dangerous, but this wasn't entirely true at first. In fact, my morning walks and rides on the train were pleasant and uneventful, despite the turmoil lying in wait ahead. Although I had low expectations in advance of the NYFA, the aunt 'embedded' in my mind that I would get my money back once I followed her "employment leads" and got a full-time job, in addition to assisting on film productions through these so-called "family connections".
Until this all proved to be one big lie, I had the opportunity to soak up the eye-catching architecture of this Brooklyn neighborhood and sample morsels at local cafes/restaurants - basically, take everything at my leisure.
The orientation day at the Dalton School (where the NYFA was holding its program) revealed much about NYFA's cheesiness. Circa Summer 2000, The school was renovating the ground floor of the building; although there was an abundance of security guards on the premises, there were also potent paint fumes each time you walked in/out of the lobby. During the orientation and introduction there was a Q&A seminar after students had their picture taken for photo I.D. Most enrollees (excluding me) were accompanied by both parents, and it appeared a lot of them were also "kept in the dark" about the program syllabus. One family inquired whether there would be a screenwriting course. Nope. Would actors be provided to us? Nope. The NYFA had photo headshots available, but we were told chances were low that any actor would work for free. After the orientation ended, I noticed 2 families demand a full tuition refund from the admissions coordinator who answered all the questions. Not quite sure if they were successful, but there appeared to be less people in attendance once the program started...wow.
The other enrollees definitely stood out: Almost every kid was white. And male. And rich. Most were children of real estate barons, politicians and network TV executives. In fact, out of 60 students, less than a dozen paid the tuition on their own without pillaging mommy and daddy's wallet (One of those poor souls being me, of course). Notwithstanding, none of the kids seemed snobby, spoiled or selfish - everyone was easy to get along with. Every student, except for one...I'll go over the details on him later.
Back to the NYFA: During my time there, none of the instructors had ever worked on a feature length film before. Not even as an assistant. Most were in their 20's, actively attending NYU's Tisch School and had limited experience besides work on unknown short films. Peter, the deputy instructor, had a marketing degree from a Colorado university and made self-financed sports documentaries, that's it. Contrariwise to what had been advertised, there were NO celebrity actor/director/producer guest speakers. A hard-earned $6,000 of my money down the drain, just to be "mentored" by amateurs.
The aunt looked at this situation differently, of course. Because the school catered to upper class kids, she thought "upper class" meant film industry insiders. That's how my aunt manipulated me into enrolling in the NYFA, in addition to using her New York "knowledge" and "experience" against my skepticism. She also claimed she talked to the parents of "NYFA alumni" (no names given) who had good views of the school.
Meanwhile, back in Brooklyn, the homeowner/boarder rapport between Susan and myself began to sour. Both of us held different views on life philosophies and politics. Her study room had two filled bookshelves of Leftist and feminist literature that she always encouraged I read like a proselyte selling "Jesus" to someone. During these rants and raves, Susan also revealed herself to be a local architect for the 2000 Nader presidential campaign...erm, need I say more? I think you get the picture as to why we loved each other so much.
Another troubling aspect about living in that place (apart from Susan playing her deceased husband's 3 favorite records daily) was the way she treated her two cats. The older cat had scabs and scars from a flea allergy, but Susan insisted the feline was just "self-loathing" and blamed itself for the death of her husband, because that's when the sores and scratching allegedly started. I volunteered at the SPCA back in '96, have owned cats and dogs myself, and I know a flea allergy when I see one. THAT WAS A SEVERE FLEA ALLERGY. The other cat - an older kitten - defecated all over Susan's condo, mainly on the plants, couch, chairs, floor, etc. We catlovers know they would only do something like this if their owner a.) doesn't change the litter box frequently, or b.) owner pisses off their cat. In this case, you could throw away any consideration of a.) (One would think these so-called "progressive activists" take better care of their pets, but I guess not.)
The final two weeks of staying with Susan (and attending the NYFA) was when the personality differences took a VERY nasty turn. I don't know why, or if this only happens to me, but some people try to play the "one-up" game whenever they're put on the spot, or whenever I don't share their views ... or when they know I see their weakness(es). No one ever wins that "game" with me, and you never want to engage me in something like that when I'm in the wrong mood. Indeed, that contributed largely to the discord between Susan and myself.
Of course, my bad mood was caused by something entirely different...
I tried to make the best I could out of the NYFA experience, which wasn't easy. The first 2 morning hours consisted of the "main instructor" - a Filipino dude with an ugly temper - boasting about himself, and how he'll one day become a famous "writer/producer" (Ten years later, this guy still makes unremarkable short films and still makes an ass out of himself as an NYFA instructor - ironic?) The next two hours we would watch clips of classic movies, in which the instructor would describe the angles, the panning, the fading, the lighting, etc (That requires paid schooling?). Then there was a one hour lunch break. When everyone returned, we got into groups of 4 ("production groups") to discuss what we would be making in the way of a story (erm, "silent short film" story). It wasn't until the last two weeks of the program that we even got our hands on a camera. That narrows down what the $6000 was spent on.
Pathetic, eh?
Regardless of everyone's social class, there were two kinds of students in the Summer 2000 course: Rich kids sent there as alternative Summer school, who had no interest in filmmaking (so they had no opinion about the school's "inferiority"), OR kids with an interest in film, and in attendance because they thought the NYFA would lend them techniques from "insiders." The latter group very much shared my views. However, rather than being vocal about it, these kids generally ditched class, smoked cigarettes with the security guards downstairs and only mentioned their dissatisfaction if the topic was brought up. The instructors noticed what was going on, but rather than considering a group of people, they picked a scapegoat to minimize the appearance of negativity.
You probably know who that scapegoat would be.
When it was far from obvious that I wasn't the only one complaining (other students even considered the possibility of a BBB grievance), the instructors "invited" a short filmmaker/"acting expert" whose particular field of expertise was "body language". What they didn't tell us was that she was on their payroll as an employee, not a "guest speaker", which had been claimed. Indeed, motor movement is a major part of movie acting, but so is dialogue. The lady referenced Samantha Morton's performance in the movie Sweet and Lowdown, explaining how the character was mute, yet was also nominated for an Academy Award. The problem with such an analogy is that "Sweet and Lowdown" wasn't a silent film, and a "mute" main character is uncommon. However, neither the lady (or her co-workers at the NYFA) taught anyone how to select and "direct actors". Nothing was picked up there. The only relevant information they taught us (when they had the time) was how to use a camera, arrange lighting and edit the reels. Everything that - again - would cost less than $6000.
End of July, 2000
So the NYFA session comes close to ending. Most of the instructors hate me with a passion. I'm looked at by most of the students as an anti-hero pariah and by others (which Jeffrey, a student from New Jersey put it) as "well intentioned, correct, but a bit overwrought and eccentric." The only student who truly enjoyed the program (and browned up to the instructors) was Eduardo, who was originally from Mexico City by way of Texas. Eduardo was the only student I didn't get along with, but I don't remember the exact reason. I think the guy was the narcissistic egomaniac-type, and other people didn't pick up on it as much as I did. I also recall the guy being passive aggressive, saying provocative things under breath, and...well, I didn't like him, and he didn't like me. Actually, come to remember it, no one really liked Eduardo.
Curiously, the instructors "rewarded" him with willing actors to be used for his final film. No other student (besides Eduardo) was extended this courtesy. Other NYFA students had to use fellow students (if they weren't occupied with their own projects), and friends or family to compensate as "actors".
On the other hand, I managed to get in contact with the actors from the NYFA's photo headshots - the instructors claimed this rarely happened, and that most of them were either too busy, would only work for money, or would only work on full length features. Everyone asked how I did it. I told them there was no secret. I simply left a voicemail with my name and phone number, told them I was a student at the NYFA, went over the synopsis of my film and a description of the character they were being considered for. Other students called the actors on their cellphones, seconds after looking at the photo resumes, and said something along the lines of, "yeah, hi, I'm doing a student film and I saw your photo, and I have a part for you, call me back, (leaves number, then hangs up.)". They got no response. I guess I was a little more specific?
My personal plan to make the "best" out of the NYFA experience was to turn my final project into a short film with dialogue and sound. (The NYFA's objective for the final project was to make a "music video" - we would still be using a silent Arriflex-16 MOS camera, but would dub a music clip during editing stages.) I had intended to film each "take" with a Panasonic VHS camera in addition to the NYFA silent Arriflex camera. This would not only capture the dialogue from the character's mouths but would also make it easier to sync during post-production stages when the 16mm silent reel was transferred to VHS. The main instructor mocked the idea, saying it would be impossible to perfectly sync. (Apparently the instructor never saw El Mariachi by Robert Rodriguez, who did the same thing when he was making the latter film...and succeeded.)
My idea wouldn't work out, however, and for entirely different reasons: For one, I needed my folks back home to send my video camera to New York. Neither parent was privy to do that immediately, even if I was willing to pay for shipping. Both parents were going through a "marital crisis" at the time and pointed fingers at each other when I was asking for their help: "Oh, ask your father, ask your mother, ask your father, ask your mother, ask your father, etc." By the time both parents had their wits together, it was too late, I was long done with the NYFA. My second problem was that the scenes containing the "moving mouths" mysteriously didn't develop. Whether I had the video camera to record the dialogue or not, these scenes were critical to the story. Without them, the film wouldn't make sense and I'd have to explain to the audience the film's plot. The NYFA instructors denied they had any role in the disappearance of the "missing footage" - instead, they claimed the takes were either under/overexposed, out of focus, or that there was a glitch during the developing stage. One thing the instructors didn't explain was the fact there was also a shortage of film once I got my takes back. Other students got "blank space" back. For the entire time this issue was discussed, the instructors appeared slightly amused in addition to being defensive.
Shortly after I finished editing my final NYFA film, Peter, the deputy instructor, calls me aside and motions me towards the men's restroom door in the Dalton School hall, where someone deliberately bent the faucet spigots. That "someone" was not me, and I found the accusation insulting considering they had no evidence and because I wasn't the only student holding negative views about the school. Peter didn't really say much about that truth, only "either way, we're going to have to reimburse Dalton for the damage." I told him that I could care less, because I wasn't the responsible party for the vandalism. I may be vindictive, but destruction of property is not my calling card.
The aunt had been keeping close tabs on everything going on. She was always on the phone with Susan in regards to my stay there - it almost became a telephone version of the show Big Brother. In the case of the NYFA, the aunt intended to communicate with the instructors - rather than me - in regards to what I was doing there, which they refused. So she talked to me instead. Her telecoms got predictable very fast: Consistent defense of the NYFA, claims that I was violating her "rules" by "questioning her judgment", and an excuse for every negative talking point I made about the school.
I let her know that I had no plans to attend their "graduation ceremony and party" at the end of July. The aunt was quick to discourage and got personal when getting me to reconsider: she mentioned the fact neither parent "had time" to attend my school graduation ceremonies, and how it would be rewarding to her (and perhaps me) to "get acknowledged for something in front of family members." The aunt also mentioned a dinner afterward at a sushi bar (on my grandparent's money), which was said to include not only the Bronx relatives but also Ray, the award-winning film director in the family.
Sounds nice, eh? Heh heh heh, just you wait.
On the eve of the Friday night "screening ceremony", I take an express train from Brooklyn to NYFA's Union Square headquarters, arriving about 3 hours early to beat the "subway rush hour crowds". I intended to let the administrators know ahead of time that I wanted my reel back after the ceremony ended, because they charged an extra $40 for 16mm-to-VHS transfers. (That's right, forty extra bucks. Not included in their pricey tuition. And they didn't even give you cans to store your reels.) I found a video production company nearby that was much more economical, but to get the deal, I had to get my reel back that night since the transfer guy at the production company was only in the office on Mondays.
I walk around the NYFA's headquarters to search for one for the instructors. I run into Peter, who introduces me to Jerry Sherlock, the NYFA's founder/controller. Considering everything that went on previously, I never fully understood the encounter.
I explained to Peter that I wanted my film reel back after the screening of all the student films, since it turned out inferior, and after that night, I didn't want to have anything more to do with the school. Peter kept on changing the subject or playing down what I said, requesting to discuss the matter later that evening.
After all the films were viewed, a small reception with light snacks and drinks was held. Some of the Bronx relatives had made it to the screening. The aunt had also invited some of her friends to the reception, including a middle-aged couple, Leslie and Florian (who were originally from Austria but now living in NYC) and also Alee, an aspiring "Brazilian dance choreographer" who had a small role in my final NYFA film. Alee and her NYFD fiance (whom my aunt had also invited to the ceremony) were friends with my aunt.
As I was looking for Peter to discuss retrieval of my film reel, Liz, a student in my class, approaches.
"I liked your film", she says.
"Are you kidding?", I asked. "It was a low-quality POS. Just like this fucking place".
"Oh, I don't know about that," she said.
We chatted a bit. I had reason to believe Liz's compliment was little more than flirtation. Ultimately, she was someone who was more interested in me than vice versa.
But that didn't mean a connection couldn't be limited to friendship.
Liz started initiating a "coffee date" with me before she was to return home to Westchester that night, when my aunt approaches to ask "who Eddie is", referring to Eduardo, the obnoxious pupil in the NYFA class. I ask why she wanted to know, but the aunt gave no specifics. I didn't think much of it. Knowing her "new age & peace philosophies", I assumed she wanted to broker a "truce" since there was understanding of my disdain for that guy.
Nope, not a truce.
The aunt approaches Eduardo, smiles, tells him she is my aunt and proceeds to divulge personal and malicious information about me.
I notice what's going on while I was talking to Liz, and I approach both my aunt and Eduardo with my arms crossed as the aunt continued to smile and shit-talk...I WAS RIGHT THERE.
When the aunt stopped talking to Eduardo, I interject, "Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I'm not going to make it for dinner tonight, I'm going to meet someone and her friends at a cafe in Chelsea. Just wanted to let you know so you don't wonder where I am later. Okay?"
Notwithstanding the shit-talking, I sort of figured Ray wasn't going to show up and that was just a ruse to get me out there that night. Why would someone be invited to an "event" but only show up for the dinner part of it? Didn't make sense at all.
Nevertheless, the aunt wanted me to change my mind.
Not verbatim, but this is the general idea as to how the conversation went:
AUNT: C'mon, your relatives have not seen you in so many years. I think they have some constructive feedback for your final film!
ME: No, no thanks, I already made my decision. And I learned back in grade school that you shouldn't share a table with someone who badmouths you.
AUNT: Badmouthing? What are you talking about? I wasn't badmouthing you.
ME: Hmm, yeah, I guess I was just seeing and hearing things while you were talking to that punk-ass "pendejo" motherfucker over there.
AUNT: I don't think that's very appropriate language.
ME: Yeah, well ... neither is badmouthing your own family.
AUNT: I wasn't badmouthing you, I was only talking to Eddie. I think this young man has very admirable traits that you would learn from.
ME: Whatever. Maybe you should invite him to the dinner instead of me? Gotta go. I have places to go and people to meet. Adios!
And I walk back to Liz and more or less explained to her what had just happened, since it did make a "small scene."
I then notice the aunt conferring with my cousin Michael from the Bronx, who gave a "second voice" in getting me to change my mind & attend the dinner gathering. He apologized if I was "offended" by my aunt's behavior, but that I should be "forgiving" because she "never had a daughter or son of her own" (not sure what that had to do with anything?) When I caved in, rebuffed Liz and went to dinner with family members instead of the coffee date, my intuition was right, Ray was not there, and the claim was just a manipulative ruse to meet my aunt's "wishes". The aunt defended her lie, as did the other family members attending the dinner.
I was fed up with everything that happened, and actually planned on leaving New York City right after the NYFA ended. The aunt balked at this, called my parents back home and encouraged me to stay longer because she had a "wealth of family and mutual contacts" for job hunting and networking.
Or so she claimed.
I knew I would have to start over if I went home. On the other hand, If I stayed, I thought I would have a chance at something. Like finding a job. Or PA work on a feature length film via the cousin's movie director boyfriend. I had a bad overall feeling about things, but once again I didn't follow the hunch.
I sure wish I did.
TO BE CONTINUED