Since SXSW 2005 I've been hearing about the Duplass brothers and this film I've got to see, The Puffy Chair. What I hadn't heard until recently was the story of the Duplass brothers and their near abandonment of filmmaking.
In an interview with Erik Davis at Cinematical, Jay Duplass, director of The Puffy Chair, tells the story of the night he and his brother made a short film that became the darling of the Sundance Film Festival.
"Well, we had been making really bad movies all through our 20s and we were just depressed, sitting in our apartment, thinking we're gonna have to quit because it was draining money and, well, we felt it just wasn't going to happen. We're obviously not cut out to make movies. And Mark, who is sort of like the bully and pusher in our relationship, gets up and is like, "Screw it, we're making a movie today. We're not leaving this apartment until we make a movie." All we had was our parents home video camera and, uh, I came up with this idea of a guy who tries to put back the personal greeting on his answering machine. So Mark said, "That's it!" He walked out the door--we didn't write a script, we didn't do anything--he came back in and tried to perform this scene. He ended up crying and falling to the ground--it was all out of our own fears of desperation and being failures--and it all happened in one take. It was the first time I was on set and felt I was capturing something unique and beautiful."
I imagine these "bad movies" the Duplasses were making. They can be found everywhere (I've got a few of my own attempts sitting in a box somewhere) and the scenario around making them reminds me of the making of a high school play. The theater teacher decides to do To Kill a Mockingbird because the kids will be able to picture themselves acting out great performances like Gregory Peck and Robert Duvall. Over the months, they rehearse, bond, get artsy and have a great time. Then opening night comes and all the parents proudly watch their kids' work. But the parents have seen Gregory Peck and Robert Duvall in the film version and the high school performance is a mimicry of a classic. The parents, luckily, are mostly entertained anyway because these are their kids and the kids are learning.
The Duplasses (along with the rest of us) are learning. We've all made films with wedged-in dialogue explaining unnecessary plot points, and actors trying to muster up interest in what they're saying, offering long, contemplative looks to convey depth. They were just little films that seemed so glorious until the outside world watched them. What I love about the Duplass brothers is that, in a moment of desperation, they stopped mimicking their favorite films and found the film about themselves--the film only they could make. Maybe I'll get there myself someday.
