Producing with Passion - Dorothy Fadiman

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the producer’s own vision, rarely have the same momentum as projects that are truly yours.

      However, even when you are the source of the idea, making a film that is truly yours is still difficult. If you don’t have enough support, financial or collegial or from your own belief in yourself, it’s hard to keep that flame burning. So when you make a commitment to the idea for your own film, make a decision that you will consciously stay close to what is true for you as you go forward.

      While harnessing the spark for my own first film, I learned the importance of listening to, and trusting, my intuition. The seed was planted when I was on retreat. I had settled into the final week of a month-long time out from my daily routine. I was in the tropics. I remember the sounds — a cascade of raindrops pelting on leaves outside the screened openings of my cottage. I had just read a passage on spiritual awakening, and was beginning to meditate, listening to the storm.

      As my mind cleared, I became aware of another sound, apart from the rain. A voice seemed to be coming from somewhere inside of me, asking this question: “May I fill you with light?” Inhaling deeply, I breathed out a silent “Yes,” and a shimmering radiance began to pour into my body. I felt as if I was floating in a sea of light. I trembled, not in fear, but in surrender. I knew, without knowing, that the brilliance flooding me was what saints and mystics describe, an infusion of a force that lifts them into another reality.

      I have no idea how long the experience lasted. As the light began to fade, a sense of purpose filled me. I returned home from the retreat, and began reading everything I could find, from scientific research to the memoirs of saints. I was compelled to create some vehicle that would communicate the power of this light. I had no idea where to begin.

      At first, I decided to imitate my husband, and write a book. He wrote non-fiction books, and I tried to follow his lead and do what he’d done. It wasn’t a natural choice for me to try to spell out in words something so experiential. I ignored my doubts, persevered, and went through years of frustration, working on a book about light. But words on paper couldn’t capture the essence of what I felt. I still have file boxes filled with my earnest efforts. I was discouraged, and nearly quit trying, but didn’t give up.

      One day, ten years after the initial experience, a filmmaker showed up in my life... literally on my doorstep. He lived in another city, and was in my neighborhood. He had heard about my futile efforts and was attracted to the project. Right then and there he challenged me. He said, “I heard you were trying to write a book about light. Did you ever think of making a movie?” When he asked that question, I knew, intuitively, that the answer was “Yes.” I could feel in my bones that filmmaking was the right medium for this project, and for me.

      I knew nothing about producing movies, but that didn’t stop me. The filmmaker offered to work with me, and our collaboration led to my first film, Radiance: The Experience of Light.

      He was the Producer and I was the Director. At that point, I didn’t even know one from the other, but I knew we had to make that movie.

      Although passion kept me going for ten years before that meeting, the actual making of the movie required that I learn a synthesis of passion, intuition, and a keen sense of “inner knowing.” This synthesis has stayed with me ever since.

      Radiance wasn’t the book my husband would have written, or the film that the filmmaker would have made without me. It was mine. And, as we worked together, I realized that I needed help to bring it into being. Like most independent filmmakers who take this journey, the inspiration was mine, but it took a team effort to manifest it.

      Radiance grew from my passion born from my own experience of “light.” While I was making the film, I felt compelled to convey that spirit. Which is, I believe, why Radiance continues to be in demand today, two generations later.

      Last year, I quietly put Radiance up on the Internet Archive (www.archive.com). We have never promoted its presence there, at all. So far, without any advertising, it has had over ten thousand viewings and is approaching three thousand downloads. (I take a glimpse every week or two, and the numbers just keep steadily going up.)

      Through all the teaching I’ve done over the years, I know for a fact that everyone has an innate sense of “knowing when you know.” Filmmaking requires that you learn to trust that sense of knowing, and then recognize what is going to work for you. From that first film onward, the fire of passion has lit the path, with intuition by my side as my guide.

      Producer/director Jacques Perrin’s lifelong interest in the natural world is evident in his film, Winged Migration (2001). The movie is a loving portrayal of different species of birds as they complete their yearly migration. The stunning photography and story brings the mystery and beauty of the planet’s birds alive for the viewer. After seeing Winged Migration, people look at birds through new eyes.

      Perrin may have been inspired to make this film about birds when he saw another filmmaker’s documentary about Canadian geese. The film he made became “his” when he committed to his vision to create a work that shows, through his eyes, the freedom and beauty of birds in flight.

      We all have passions. Sometimes they’re hard to identify and even harder to harness, because they may be abstract or unruly or silent or even invisible. Recognizing an idea that will ring true for you means dipping into the passions that run through you like deep rivers. They flow with mysterious, life-giving water. Those driving impulses, the ones that will get you to the finish line, register for different people in different ways. For me, the signal is physical — especially when I am looking toward making a film, I get “trills of truth.” When an idea or an event moves me deeply, I get goose bumps. The hairs on my arms stand up, as if they are listening. When I feel this sensation, I stop whatever I am doing and ask myself, “Okay . . . What just happened?”

      Your own alert to pay attention may or may not be physical. Some people breathe faster, some more deeply. Some feel giddy, some deeply calm; others simply feel energized, as if a force is moving through them. Whatever your signal, when you feel drawn toward a subject, you will have a sense that something is calling you, maybe whispering in your ear, maybe screaming out your name. Some people say literally, “It had my name on it.” The catalyst that triggers the response, beckoning you to create something new, can be ignited by a person, a headline, a poem, a dream, a fragrance — there is no one way.

      What these “callings” have in common is that you feel compelled to make something happen.

      If nothing comes to mind to ignite a spark for you, use your imagination. Imagine possibilities. As you fall asleep, fantasize movies you could make. When you are standing in line in the supermarket or stalled in traffic, brainstorm scenes. Reading the newspaper or a magazine, watching someone else’s documentary or a TV show or the news or even a soap opera can generate ideas. Does something “click”?

      As you explore possibilities, several subjects may vie for attention. Some people stop there, because they can’t decide! If you want to make a film, but the “right idea” is not obvious, or you are having difficulty choosing one to develop, take time out. You might gather with some friends and brainstorm. You could set aside an hour or two to walk in nature or sit in meditation and see what bubbles up.

      Just “opening the floor” and asking for ideas, will start a process. Fresh ideas will come to mind, until you recognize one that is yours to pursue.

      When I give workshops, these are some of the questions I throw out to help people find ideas for

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