Prologue

This is the first in a series of essays I started writing in 2024 that examine and reflect on every aspect of making, marketing and distributing an independent film in America at this critical and challenging moment.  

After many months of uncertainty, I finally know where Lost Cause, my second feature, will have its world premiere (I will be able to share this information publicly in a few weeks). This is a crucial step forward in a long and arduous journey that has many more stages and obstacles ahead.

Every project is different, and every artist is different. What has or has not worked for my movie and me may or may not work for your movie and you. I also might not know much at all. I may have made a film that nobody likes or sees. Maybe this is a cautionary tale.

My first feature, Good Funk, cost around $50,000 to make. I shot it with a small crew of friends in 2014. It was rejected from all the A-list festivals and ended up premiering at a small but cool regional fest in 2016. The film played several other festivals and won a few awards, then sat on a shelf until finally securing distribution in 2020. Good Funk was released digitally in 2021 by a company who filed for bankruptcy in 2024. I got the rights back at the beginning of 2025 and am now working with FilmHub to redistribute the film. You can rent/buy it here.

Making and distributing a film is a Herculean task. Filmmakers must face and overcome constant rejection, unrelenting opposition and unimaginative cowardice. I have learned so much from reading books by other artists about their philosophies, work, processes and experiences. Texts like In the Blink of an Eye, Cut to the Chase, and Notes on the Cinematograph (along with many others) have demystified and deepened my understanding of the medium. At the same time, these books emerged from and speak to specific, distinct moments in world and film history. The conditions that produced the European cinema of the 50s and 60s are different from those that produced the New Hollywood cinema of the 70s and 80s. The digital breakthroughs of the 90s and 2000s further altered how people make and consume movies. Now, in 2025, the game continues to change.

There are plenty of resources available to educate and support aspiring filmmakers (Noam Kroll's site is a great place to start). What is needed are more case studies that document first-hand the filmmaking process in 2025 from conception of idea all the way through the many windows of distribution. These studies must be transparent about their successes and failures and forthcoming with their numbers. We need more artists willing to take risks, try new things and be honest about the outcomes.

As Ted Hope wrote in his intro to Thinking Outside the Box Office by Jon Reiss:

Because every film is unique, every case study is revelatory and useful in some way. Modern artists can discover so much about the art and craft of filmmaking by learning how Robert Rodriguez did it 30 years ago or how Tarkovsky did it 50 years ago or how Eisenstein did it 100 years ago. Wisdom endures. At the same time, modern filmmakers navigate a unique system of challenges and opportunities that differ from the systems navigated by artists of previous generations. The more we can learn from our peers and contemporaries, the better.

It is harder than ever for films, especially small, risky ones, to break through the noise and reach wide, diverse audiences. There are a million reasons why (Sophie’s three-part series on the death of cinema is a crucial and ultimately inspiring autopsy). Our film distribution system is both broken and over-flowing with slop. Movies have largely been reduced to momentary, fleeting blips on the cultural radar. As both a cause and a result, our intellectual-cultural muscles have atrophied. Cinema used to provide an opportunity to grapple with uncertainty, embrace conflicting ideas and see the world from opposing perspectives. Movies today serve the primary function of reaffirming our pre-existing beliefs.

The people in power prefer it this way. Dumb culture that dulls critical thinking begets a dumb citizenry that cannot think critically about anything. If we engage passively with culture, we become passive viewers of the world around us. Depending how it is wielded, culture can either be a tool of liberation or control.

“Give ‘em more of the same" has always been the play-it-safe milieu of Hollywood’s decision-makers. At the end of the day, nobody truly knows what will work and what will bomb, what will matter and what will not, what will find an audience (and when) and what will disappear in time. The decision-makers are the ones who actually take on the financial risk. They do not want to lose money. They support projects based on or reminiscent of previously profitable projects. They know deep down that past magic does not guarantee future magic, but they cling to the notion nonetheless.

But what about the original independent films that are successful without precedent, movies that come out of nowhere and become culturally significant? How do the decision-makers explain unexpected and influential little gems like Napoleon Dynamite, My Dinner With Andre or Clerks?  Based on the success of Barbie, Mattel is planning 45 new toy movies. Yet the success of My Dinner With Andre did not spawn a single studio imitation (believe it or not). In his book Adventures in the Screen Trade, the legendary screenwriter William Goldman describes how decision-makers derisively treat successful original movies as "non-recurring phenomena":

Decision-makers are scared to death of original movies that turn a big profit and make cultural waves. Obviously, this has always been a part of the industry — Goldman's book came out in 1983, after all — but it has gotten particularly egregious.

This safe, boring approach trickles down from the top and suffocates the rest of the ecosystem, making it nearly impossible for risk-taking filmmakers to make movies, connect with audiences and build sustainable careers.

Film critics traditionally played a crucial role in helping smaller movies reach more people. Though critics still exist, their roles and impact have diminished. Is there a critic alive now who can really help a film find a wider audience by championing it?

Here is Jeff Lipsky, producer of My Dinner With Andre, discussing the role Siskel and Ebert played in the success of that film:

My Dinner with Andre stayed in theaters for a year and grossed over $5 million on a budget of less than $500k. What would happen to My Dinner with Andre if it were released today, with an identical distribution strategy? It would be unlikely to reach the heights it did in 1981, and part of this has to do with the waned influence of movie critics. Critics have largely been replaced by social media influencers, and the influencers push whatever movie they are paid to push.

But what about the major film festivals, which in the past have provided an alternative launching pad for independent filmmakers? There will always be supportive programmers and organizations at all levels that champion ambitious and innovative work. At the same time, there has been a shift in the types of movies that premiere and screen at many of the top places. The label "independent" has largely lost its meaning. Independent work cannot by definition be financed by multi-national conglomerates. (4)  Yet every year, film festivals give away more and more of their precious premiere and competition slots to films that are produced by big studios and have distribution in place before a frame is shot. Film festivals are struggling (like all of us) to make ends meet, and will do what they must to survive. If Netflix or Apple is the main benefactor of your financially-strapped festival, you gotta show some of their movies, right? It certainly is a Faustian bargain that makes the cultural space for truly independent work even smaller.

The few films that do premiere at major fests without distribution in place are not selling anymore, at least not like they used to. Even when films get offers, the offers seldom help the films break even. A $0 minimum guarantee (MG) used to be a laughable offer. Not only is it acceptable now, it is the standard for many films.

I don't mean to sound so cynical, but this is what filmmakers are up against in 2025: risk-averse investors and buyers, dulled audiences force-fed and exhausted by slop, a market that is not particularly free or fair, fewer movie theaters, less royalties, the diminished role and influence of film critics, increased competition for fewer festival premiere slots, non-existent MGs, a broken distribution ecosystem and much more.

But there is a silver lining.

Within every broken, inadequate system is a profound opportunity to build something better, something satisfying, something thriving and sustainable. We don’t have to wait for permission to imagine and test alternatives. The future is already here; we are creating and recreating it in real-time.

The fact that the decision-makers are more risk-averse than ever just means the work they make will be safer and more boring than ever, and there will be a bigger gap in the marketplace for bold, ambitious, risk-taking cinema. Audiences will demand it.

The fact that studios are inking big deals with YouTube and TikTok creators means there will be less competition for people who actually know how to write, produce and direct real, compelling movies.

The fact that sales aren’t really happening at film festivals anymore means that the traditional distribution model — and festival strategy — is officially dead for 99% of filmmakers. Good riddance! Hopefully more filmmakers and film lovers finally realize and accept this and start to embrace that alternative direct-to-audience distribution models — paired with robust regional festival strategies — are actually way cooler and more sustainable.

Most filmmakers did not get into this business to get rich. Filmmaking is actually a terrible way to build wealth and stability. At the same time, filmmakers need to figure out innovative new ways to break even so investors trust them enough to finance future projects. The traditional distribution model is no longer sufficient. $0 MGs are no longer sufficient. Cookie-cutter marketing and windowing strategies are no longer sufficient. If we filmmakers sincerely believe that our films have true financial value in the market — and we’re not all just bullshitting ourselves and each other — then we should be able to go out and get that money ourselves. The time is now.

I am all in on Lost Cause: creatively, financially and spiritually.  I’m so excited to finally bring it out into the world and share it with you. The past few years have been an invaluable learning experience, and I expect the next few years to be the same. I hope you learn from my successes and even more from my mistakes. “The mistakes are mystics,” my friend Bryan used to say. “They guide us.” <3

This essay was originally published on AMAUTEUR, a production and distribution newslabel that makes, releases and writes about indie and nonDe (non-dependent) movies and music. Want to show your support? Send a few bucks via Tip Jar or Venmo. For contributions of $5 or more, share your email address in the comments (or DM me) and I'll send you a private link to watch my first feature, Good Funk, on Vimeo or YouTube. Rock on!

(1) Jon Reiss, Thinking Outside the Box Office (Hybrid Cinema, 2009, pg. 7)

(2) Sophie, “the death of cinema & how to bring it back to life (part 3)",” That Final Scene, May 15, 2025, https://www.thatfinalscene.com/p/the-death-of-cinema-and-how-to-bring-a18

(3) William Goldman, Adventures in the Screen Trade (Grand Central Publishing, 1983, pg. 50)

(4) Can we please bring back the term “sell-out”?