A young man faces off with his father over his inheritance and family home, while his three-year-old son attempts to grasp what it all means. A story of time and transitions, Our Beneficiary symbolically encapsulates that complex moral negotiation passed down from one generation to the next.
Arsenal: Canon EOS 5D Mark II, EF 24-70mm f/2.8L
Budget: $3,500.00
Awards
One-Reeler | Award of Excellence 2017
One-Reeler | Best Screenplay 2017
Best Shorts Competition | Award of Merit 2017
IndieFest | Award of Recognition 2017
Director Statement *Spoiler Alert*
This film project was a first-time experience on so many different levels. Apart from myself, not a single crew member had ever shot (or edited) a film before, nor had they ever written a script for on-screen. On top of that, Paul Mason and Bruno Marcello had never performed for film before, and the three-year-old boy, Darian Prins, had never acted before—in fact, he had never seen a camera in his life! It was an entirely new process for everyone, to say the very least, and everyone was exceptional.
Behind the Scenes: Trannies and Fisticuffs?
The production was chockfull of surprises. Having returned from Baltimore to the Greater Toronto Area, finding actors proved a difficult process given my lack of local networking. When I pitched the film online, I received a lot of prospects for the role of James Turner (Postmodernism), many of whom were, to my surprise, transexual. The video auditions were audacious—of the sprechen sie sassy variety. I didn’t quite get why they were so many trannies attracted to my film, in particular. Was it something I said? Well, apparently it was. I decided to reread my pitch: The logline: “A story of time and transitions…” and the character’s name, James Turner. Of course! Either way, looking back at things now, I didn’t realize just how prophetic such a mishap would become.
Fast forward several months to the first day of shooting, it was nothing short of insanity. I wish I could gush on all the details, but it would be best to temper it a bit—for my sake and all who were involved.
The stage was set in an antique collectors private shop on Main Street, which was inside an old victorian building. A very beautiful setting and interior championing very expensive articles, from handmade furniture to works of art. Apart from detouring a number of random suspicious characters who just so happened to be walking by ‘needing to pick up their things’, fending off the wolves could only last for so long. I was sitting upstairs minding my own business where we had set up our production room for lunch, equipment storage, wardrobe changes, et cetera, attempting to finalize a defrocked shot list, when all of the sudden an elderly gentlemen busts through the door. His teeth gnashed as he looked the room up and down, as if the place was in utter pandemonium. He directed his perturbed yet laser-hot gaze into my soul. He had a stare that could slice the goosebumps off your neck, I tell you. Come to think of it, this could have become a film itself. He was beyond furious that we were there—this was “his place”, you see. I insisted that we had proof from the owner of the building/store and the location forms to prove it, but he would have none of it. This was his place.
Consequently, my attempt to deflate the situation was only fanning the flames. He grabbed the closest chair to him and started waving it around like it was a mace, while screaming at us to get out of here because his chair was worth one-hundred thousand dollars—no, not doll hairs. If only! But the mace soon after became a battering ram for his will. You could imagine the cold sweats that came over me—very expensive antiques were in every room, and I was legally obliged to protect them, and here was this old angry man about to bludgeon my chest with one of its legs! He, then, demanded to see another room in the complex because he had misplaced his keys. So, in yet another attempt to deflate the situation, I carefully opened the door and let him look around, keeping close watch at his every move. Sure enough, as soon as the door opens, the alarm goes off. Pandemonium had struck. In fact, it was such a tornado that we did not consider calling the owner until we were confident we were safe, though 911 was certainly on our minds.
After much talk and convincing, and the alarm hammering our ears, he finally calmed down. Pure relief, you could imagine. At this point, I thought it be best to call the owner because he was snooping around quite a bit and I wanted to let her know what was going on, while things were relatively calm. And wouldn’t you know it? He wasn’t lying. He did own the place. The owner was his wife. But she did not tell him we were there.
Long story short, after loosing nearly a day of shooting, when the alarm was finally reset, things were back on pace to begin filming. Despite all the setbacks on the first day of production, we (somehow) made it work. But, with the old man vindicated and order restored, it makes you wonder if the chair was truly worth one-hundred thousand dollars…
Director Commentary/Analysis
The film as a whole definitely could have been improved aesthetically and visually, that’s for sure. Although clunky at times, whether in dialogue or pacing, it could also have been much worse. All things considered, I think the film has its merits.
Narrative/Dialogue
The film is entirely symbolic, or at least, it aimed to be. Concerning the plot, the film's diegetic subtext is chiefly, if not entirely, dependent upon the characters prior relationship with “Mary Anne Morales” the mother, wife, and grandmother and painting of whom represents the dying Christian Church and its socio-moral affects disappearing from our Western ethos. Consequently, the moral disjunction between postmodern rhetoric and the residual belief in modernism are left to duke out their own devices for the moral high ground—who is ‘more’ right? This engagement is led by questions revolving around the essential value of human life of which ends unresolved.
As a project, the thematic ambition was daunting and ultimately rather delicate. We had to engender somewhat natural dialogue without full-heartedly compromising the fundamental philosophical archetypes and beliefs both modernism and postmodernism contain—all within a family setting. The film explicitly isolates a literal embodiment of generational yet convergent beliefs: Mother says one thing, yet father says another. How would any child attempt to understand and actualize contrary upbringings? Therefore just implying that these characters were mere philosophical vectors would not be sufficient or thematically justifiable. I didn’t want the audience to simply identify the theme and go on their way. Far from it! I want them to reflect about what was said and symbolized, and more decisively, to question it. One-theme films have their place, but a myriad of themes invites the viewer to connect the implicit dots and harmonize deeper, elemental truths—to reach a point of conviction.
The cultural relevancy of the film, however subtle, seems fixated toward a Canadian audience. For instance, the terrible condition of the mother is first touched on with the line, “Yes… tomorrow… the doctor thought it would be best”. One of the chief inspirations for writing the script was to dimly bring into question the cultural affects of Bill C-384 if it were passed, and what are the ethical solutions for such a proposition according to the remaining philosophies at large.
Camera
The film’s visual appeal was lackluster at times. For instance, the third shot of the film, which was positioned at the top of the stairs showing both the boy by the window and Paul opening the front door, was supposed to be the opening shot. This shot is far more dynamic than the final opening shot I chose to go with—the empty hallway was chosen because, I thought, it better thematically tightened the final scene with the beginning; if you recall, the final shot of the film is the camera running through the empty hallway at the boy’s eye level, reminiscent of a POV shot. Ultimately, if we had lit the hallway better on both accounts, with higher contrast shadows projecting from the frontdoor, I think the shots would have been far more interesting than a boring blank wall. That said, the boring blank wall was symbolically intentional, indicative of James Turner’s deconstructive ambition—out with the old, in with the new. So it was always a balancing act between symbolic richness or visual intrigue. For the most part, symbolism won out, but it could have no doubt been improved upon.
The shot composition as a whole was hardly a product to be desired, but was, sadly, all we could hope to muster, given our limitations. I had drawn out a rather detailed story board and developed a detailed shot list before the big shoot, and had several meetings with Andrew, the Director of Photography, beforehand to ensure we could accomplish what I had envisioned. Day of, I discover that the story board/shot list I drew out was not possible to achieve with the camera and lens we had. An oversight of this caliber happens now and then, and could happen to anybody, but given our extremely small budget, time restraints, travel expenses, among many other factors (fear of a crazed maniac ready to pull the plug for God knows why), I had to re-envision the entire movie on the spot, and fast! I was deeply frustrated, as anyone would be. The vision of the film was supposed to be a gradual build up of slow-paced dolly wide shots to a climactic sequence of tight chiaroscuro closeups in the basement. Instead, the visual tension became overkill. The film became a basic conversational steadicam sequence, traversing into Hallmark territory. I knew that midway through the film the air would be viscous; wide shots can weaken the emotional tension between characters, as well as the narratival/thematic tension. But what you got was a movie of mostly closeups, with tighter shots midway through before the final conflict in the basement. The tension was visually exacerbated, in my view, so the verbal fight in the basement felt prolonged. Be that as it may, Andrew did exceptional work lighting the scenery.
Lighting
I received quite a bit of negative feedback from critics for my lighting choices, particularly the final conflict in the basement scene, when Postmodernism (played by Bruno Marcello) is arguing with his father Modernism (played by Paul Mason) from the top of the stairs. Postmodernism is darkly lit, if not, enveloped in shadow. This was completely intentional, partly paying homage to Federico Fellini’s, Juliet of the Spirits (1965). Be that as it may, critics despised the lighting because “he was too dark” and “poorly lit”. Of course, he was! If the film is entirely symbolic, and the characters all represent contemporary movements, religious or philosophical, should we not ask ourselves why he is lit so dark? It seems so basic. The film is symbolism, even down to the lighting and camera composition. Honestly, I felt like I was the only person to grasp this idea. Anyway, there were two reasons for this. Firstly, Postmodernism could not even bring himself to look at the basement—the moral foundation of society—yet fully planned on overhauling the whole lot. All he saw was pain and dislike, so he felt it needed to be completely deconstructed. He was encompassed in shadow to represent his own darkened state and inability to see the moral foundation for what it is. By contrast, modernism was dimly lit and could mostly see the moral structure for what it is, but he was too morally bankrupt himself to preserve it, and so in the end he left. Secondly, I wanted to convey that both Modernism and Postmodernism are wrong. I did not want to give the impression that Postmodernism was right by being at the proverbial top, looking down at Modernism in disdain. If he was lit well, it certainly would give off that impression given the camera angle. The angle for Postmodernism was pointing upwards, which gives him a subliminal edge of power and authority, which deeply matters when you watch a symbolic fictional argument. I did not want to give him any actual or perceived power. It was a commentary, from the director to audience, concerning what I think about the argument between them.
Despite my strict orders to (mostly) silhouette Bruno, Andrew still managed to obtain a catchlight, a spark of light in his eyes. Andrew ended up winning an Award of Merit for cinematography in a southern film festival. Fantastic work.
Final Thoughts
Given that a film is not reality—it is representative of reality—I think everything visual in a film ought to communicate something thematic to the audience. The visuals are not just a catalyst for the plot; the camera has a voice. It’s not just capturing the real-world, so to speak, though at times it is just that and should only be that depending on the thematic and narratival context; it’s just not always that. There is just so much meaningful breadth and symbolic dynamism when it comes to visual storytelling that we seem to miss out on. Quite frankly, I think modern cinema has just butchered it. The elemental depth of film is severely wanting nowadays because, rather than be nourished by objective truth, we have abandoned it for dubious pleasures, wholly unsanctified and temporal.
At the end of the day, and to my surprise given our tenuous, anti-Christian milieu, I won awards for screenwriting and short filmmaking, such as the Award of Excellence and Best Screenplay for Our Beneficiary (2017) in the One-Reeler Short Film Competition, placing next to John Malkovich for Best Actor in Hell (2016), among other well-regarded talents and higher budget films. Praise God for that!
If you would like more of this stuff—philosophical and theological films—let me know in the comments. I would love to hear what you think.
Matlock Bobechko | April 5, 2023 – 9:00 AM EST. Our Beneficiary (2017).
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