Journey of a Film
This is the film that I have essentially been making all my life, it is the journey of over seven years of filming, listening, editing and growing — making the film became the process of healing.
My mother’s conscious choice to change her life and her legacy helped me to change mine. In the end, I made this film for my son, so he would not have to suffer because of my unresolved burdens. This is the legacy I chose.
I wanted to deliver a powerful true story, from which others could draw inspiration.
I hope to share the experiences of forgiveness and redemption that our family discovered as a gift from our family to yours. The Gift of Time is about sharing experiences of growth and healing in whatever way may be important to you. The film is only a catalyst for the real purpose—to take the healing that occurs throughout the film and help carry it into the lives of those who see the film.
In many ways, I have been making this film all of my life. My first film, Moon Blue Traces, focused on painful childhood memories involving my mother and this film finally addresses and heals those memories.
At the outset, I thought this would become a film about the trials of cancer. After a while, it developed into a film about my own personal struggles with a needy, once abusive mother. Along the way, I realized that I must allow myself to move forward and that the process of making the film was actually a personal journey of forgiveness and growth.
I have been filming my family for years, but when my mother’s breast cancer returned, she asked me to make a film that would help others in our position. My mother died 18 months later. Over the past six years, the project has evolved from a film about cancer, to a story of my own personal struggles, and finally a film of redemption that transcends the original topics.
The process was a gut-wrenching personal endeavor. I promised myself that I would not allow filming my life to keep me from living it, but rather use it as a means to engage more deeply. I kept it simple, just a camera, a microphone, and me: No lights, no crew and no schedules. When an opportunity arose, I tried to take it. Thankfully, my family cooperated and opened themselves to sharing this experience with me (and my camera). Many colleagues loaned me gear, in support of what I was doing.
There were times when simply holding the camera felt like a huge weight, but my mother would ask for interviews and encourage me. Looking back, I think she may have just wanted the attention, but she also knew this would help us grow closer as she was dying. The real surprise was how our relationship continued to heal after she was gone.
After my mother’s death, the struggles changed as I stared at her interviews and talked with my sisters, often lost in a sea of emotions and video footage. Again, fellow filmmakers came to my assistance, encouraging and challenging me to reach deeper. Through all of this, my wife was my keel, keeping me upright and always moving forward. I would plunge into the film, work as long as I could, then show the new version to small groups before having to leave it for a while, give it a rest. Like so many things in life, I kept thinking I was “done” and unable to go on.
I simply wanted to tell a powerful true story from which anyone could draw inspiration. I had one question; “Would this be helpful to others? Using this question as a guide, I presented the film to test audiences. Along the way, I was able to hone the various themes and emotions into this final film. When I finally looked out at the faces in the audience and saw tears of joy and people holding hands, I knew I had accomplished something.
Perception Films
I make films in an attempt to touch and engage the audience so that they might participate internally, allowing the viewers to create their own perception with their own experiences—essentially, to create their own movies. I try to use a cinematic language that speaks to different people on different levels, and touches them deeply enough that each person walks away with their own movie in their heart and mind. One of my favorite examples of this is when someone walks up to me after seeing one of my films and tells me about a scene that was not really in the movie, but they saw because it drew something out of them and their experience. Then I know it’s really working.
