Been an amazing year. Fast. Horrid, wonderful, potent, nutso, significant.
Fever Year will have its World Premiere at Lincoln Center as part of the prestigious New York Film Festival in October. A European Premiere has been secured (details TBA.) That festival told me FYR broke their record for swiftest turnaround time: submission-to-acceptance, 24 hours. They gave it a compliment that propels these final days of post-production: “it is a film as beautiful and understated as a portrait of Andrew Bird should be.” Next week it’ll be two years from the day Andrew and I were sitting on his porch and he asked me to make a film. Two books got me through the past six months of FYR: Shipwrecks of Lake Michigan and Just Kids. So many reasons why. I hope you get to see FYR in your town, soon.
Am completely dedicated to the new picture, a doozy currently titled Mormons Make Movies. My master collaborator and old friend Aaron Wickenden (who shot documentary portions of Fever Year and recently co-edited Steve James’ The Interrupters) and I have been shooting in Utah, Illinois, and Michigan – prepping a demo funded by the ITVS Diversity Development Fund. The film is in early stages, so it easily swings between breaking my heart and charging up my bones. This film will take us to Mexico too, where things could get Real.
During a blizzard in February I stood in a small intersection near my house and watched a minivan aggressively burn to its frame as firefighters shoveled snow around it. They couldn’t get their fire-truck near enough to put the blaze out. Despite the fierce radioactive stench, the minivan’s burning carcass was one of the more gorgeous things I’d seen in a while, with steaming tires surrounded by charcoal snow. Neighbors gathered round for the urban sculpture, a blizzardy art-exhibit. How many of us, even for a moment in our minds, let a little something horrid burn with it?
How can it be that just three months later, on a beach 90 miles from Chicago’s surly funk, I resumed swimming in Lake Michigan? I’d stood at that very beach, frozen on Christmas Day, amazed that three months previous I’d stripped down for my final swim of the year. Am still impressed by how stunningly beautiful and under-recognized that inland sea is. And that when I lived in California, I believed so deeply that the Pacific was the only water for me.





Home Video on New York Times Website
