SALT LAKE CITY -- Odds are long that any of the LDS-themed movies flooding Utah screens will duplicate the small-budget, big-return success of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," a $5 million movie that's earned more than $185 million -- so far -- at the box office.
LDS moviemakers may be holding out for crossover appeal. But even if they don't make $100 million, a market filled with the state's religious majority is sure to keep cameras rolling.
But critics are complaining, and some of the genre's own directors fear quality is succumbing to quantity.
Richard Dutcher, known among the denomination's cinema aficionados as the "Mormon Spielberg," is unhappy with the small movie trend he started with the film "God's Army," a tale about missionaries working in Los Angeles which cost $240,000 but netted $2.6 million.
"I wanted it to bring all these LDS filmmakers and writers out of the woodwork. But now that I see how it's gone, however, I'd like some of them to go back into the woodwork," Dutcher said.
Seven LDS-themed films have popped up on local screens since 2000, and the trend of independent movies about and for members of the faith is building momentum.
The films have a 1950s sensibility about them, unsurprising given that members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are discouraged from watching R-rated films. Sex, swearing and graphic violence are all absent.
Recent works have included an earnest film about LDS missionaries, a murder-mystery and a romantic-comedy. Five more films are expected to open here this spring.
"The Singles Ward," a guy-meets-girl romantic comedy, is essentially a series of inside jokes about Mormons, from the scrap-booking opening credits (Mormons love scrap-booking) to good-natured jabs at the church's polygamist past.
For example, at one point the romantic lead turns to the camera and complains about the reaction from fellow church members to being dumped by his wife: "Our ancestors were able to handle four or five wives and you can't handle one? What's the deal?"
Dutcher had hoped the success of his movie would draw out the faithful within the entertainment business. Instead, he says, it spawned a series of poorly made movies with an LDS stamp.
Sean Means, movie reviewer for the state's largest newspaper, The Salt Lake Tribune, says films like "The Singles Ward," "Handcart" and "Charly" mark a sophomore slump for LDS cinema. They're plagued by bad scripts and boring plots, he says.
Because they aren't good enough to succeed elsewhere, Means says, they end up being marketed squarely at locals. And there's enough of an audience here to pull down a profit; the church claims 70 percent of Utah residents.
"The Singles Ward" was made for $400,000 and made almost $1.5 million, said director and producer Kurt Hale. Now there are 200,000 copies at video stores.
Fifteen-year-old Jennifer Eggett's family is a perfect example of what moviemakers have in mind when they eye an LDS audience.
When "The Other Side of Heaven" -- the story of a farm kid who becomes a missionary in the remote Tongan islands -- hit theaters, Jennifer's grandmother declared it a family movie night for all 36 members of the clan.
Jennifer said she liked the movie. "It made me cry. It's good for people to know the real truth about Mormons."
But critics will be critics.
"At the moment the mindset is: It's a movie about Mormons, let's go see it," Means said. "But a few more movies of questionable quality and they'll get over it."
Thomas Baggaley, who runs the Web site www.ldsfilms.com [sic: the actual URL, presented correctly in the "On the Net" section after the article, is "ldsfilm.com"], agrees that too many LDS directors are banking on a guaranteed LDS audience.
"They weren't saying come watch the film because it's a good film, they were saying come see this film so there can be more of these films. I don't think that argument is going to work for very long," Baggaley said.
"Now we have more films about us and it's not such a novelty. And that's a good thing. That will force the films to become better," he predicted.
Hale will release two more Mormon-themed comedies. The first -- "The R.M.," about a return missionary -- will hit Utah in January. The other -- "Church Ball," about church basketball leagues -- will be out in January 2004.
There's no shortage of material, or self-deprecating humor, Hale said. "We can make 50 movies based on how strange we are."
On the Net:
Richard Dutcher's production site: http//:www.zionfilms.com
http://www.ldsfilm.com
Kurt Hale's production site: http://www.halestormentertainment.com
God's Army came out last week, and with it came out a few unwitting members of the hosts of hell. Self-righteousness is never in short supply among our members, it seems, though I was sure it had gone into a serious draught. Boy oh boy, was I ever mistaken.
If you're like me, you're 5'8" with a large forehead and a keen sense of humor. Also, you're a sinner. And a former self-righteous [epithet] as well. I was among the holiest of holier-than-thous, as any of my freshman year friends can attest. But they won't, because they're all burning in hell. Or at least I figured they would be by now. In any case, I was slow to learn the concept of "tolerance," even as it was applied liberally to me. Homosexuals were evil, as were Democrats and R-rated movie-watchers. I couldn't separate hating sin from hating sinners, and BOY did everybody I know have sins. Whoo-boy. I think the only thing that kept me from being translated was that I was surrounded by too many wicked people, and their unholiness was tainting my shiney glow.
Anyways, I learned. I served a mission and saw firsthand that I was not perfect; indeed, I wasn't even within throwing distance of a good saint. (Except my mission president's wife -- THERE was a woman I was frequently close enough to throw something at, but never tried, because she was too glowingly holy to look directly at. I'm not exaggerating. She was amazing. And sometimes she made waffles.) I later found out one of my very best friends in the world had same-sex tendencies, or was, in essence (if not in deed) gay. And my older brother, who had the generosity to let me live in his basement when I got home from my mission, was an R-rated moviegoer. (Democrats, of course, are still evil.)
So when I read the comments a couple BYU students made about God's Army in the Daily Universe last week, I was pretty upset. I had assumed that everyone had grown up at the same time I did, and that there was closure on the whole "self-righteous" chapter in our lives. Alas, 'tis not so. One student claimed he was making "well-founded speculations" (his words) after watching the trailer, and had decided the movie was evil and was casting pearls before swine. The other writer had walked out of the PG film, and said it mocked all that missionary work stood for. It shouldn't have shown missionaries with problems, she said in essence, since such are the exception, not the rule.
I see.
That made sense to me when I discovered she had served in the South Central Spirit Paradise mission, speaking Adamic, and had been granted a halo along with her official release.
Aw, crud. Am I back to where I started, judging others? Saying I'm better than them? Well, I AM better than them. I mean, I apologize.
But the movie has been well-received by everyone else I've spoken with. A long standing-ovation after the film testified that most everyone at the premiere had been touched -- and the girls I came with decided they wanted to serve missions. (Note to self: don't take girls to God's Army.)
It never stops, though. The Daily Herald has recently been getting strong letters attacking the writings of Eric D. Snider, who writes a weekly humor column that occasionally touches a nerve here and there. It's supposed to. It's called satire. Jonathan Swift's classic satirical piece, "A Modest Proposal," suggested eating babies to solve the population problems in 19th Century England. It was foul. It got the legislators to whom it was written up in arms. It was a complete success.
See, it's SUPPOSED to work that way. Get awareness raised. Make points that prevent anyone from ignoring the issue any longer. And shine a light on who the idiots are. I think Eric's columns are a very simple I.Q. test in many ways, because people that get angered by them tend to be very stupid. I've disagreed with him before, like when he said I needed to get out of his chair when we lived together, but that didn't make me stupid. (Getting engaged when he had specifically warned me about the girl -- THAT was stupid. But also very funny. In retrospect. [Side note: this is as much of a dating reference as you will get in the column this week, besides the title.])
So here's what I think: I think anyone that's going to go outside of their home should be forced to read one or both of Eric's books. If they laugh, we let them out into society. If not, we quarantine them all in one big building. And then we knock it down with them inside.
We wouldn't have to do that if they would all just be as tolerant as me.
Subject: God's Army
Date: Mon, 24 Apr 2000
The LDS film God's Army has just been released in three major local theaters here in Boise, Id. I am curious about what you may find in these films. I have not yet seen it, but so far it has received excellent reviews. Better than many of the hit movies released. Please review it.
Response [by columnist David Bruce]: It is not in my area, oh well.
[Excerpts]
The picture I've just been hired to edit is targeted specifically toward a Mormon audience, but it has much to engage the non-Mormon viewer as well. The story, written by the director, follows a young Mormon from the Midwest, who is leaving behind a troubled family life to perform a mission in rough-and-tumble Hollywood. For me, a non-Mormon, the script offers a fascinating look at a world of which I know nothing--the hard work, practical jokes, tricky encounters, and interesting characters that make up the mission experience--all presented in a realistic, non-contrived fashion and often with considerable good humor. Further, the story's central conflicts revolve, refreshingly enough, around spiritual rather than temporal dilemmas.
The director and I begin work by viewing dailies. He has printed some 15 hours of footage, and we spend two days drinking sodas and watching tapes on a tiny TV screen in his Burbank office. He has obtained good coverage, frequently shooting a variety of angles and generally printing two or three takes of each (although occasionally as many as six or eight). For the most part, the acting, cinematography, and production values are very good, including an excellent performance by the director himself as the veteran missionary whose job it is to take the protagonist under his wing.
The director and I seem to have similar ideas regarding which takes are best, and apart from some general instructions, he does not try to dictate the first cut to me at all. The only creative restriction placed upon me (although not one that seems onerous) is that I am expected to put the show together without using any opticals, except for the opening and closing fades--presumably for budgetary reasons, since opticals are costly. Although on other films I've found it necessary to use dissolves in certain situations, it does not seem that they will be critical to this particular project.
The day after we finish screening dailies, I settle into my editing room and begin digitizing. Although I've worked at my friends' Burbank facility before, it has been in their MCXpress bay downstairs. Their Media Composer bay is upstairs and beyond the reach of the building's central air conditioning, resulting in a hot, stuffy work environment (several weeks after I start, a portable a/c unit is finally brought in). However, the Avid system itself is great, a Media Composer 1000 with 8 channels of sound in and out, the most current software (7.1 v1), and, as it turns out, excellent stability (for some reason, I've found, certain Avids will crash almost as soon as look at you). The system also comes with enough storage that I can digitize all my footage at a reasonably high resolution and--a major plus--the set-up also features a big-screen TV so that one can view one's work at a reasonable size.
A few days later, the footage is digitized and I'm ready to cut. I assemble the picture in order, skipping over only a few scenes that are waiting for additional footage to be shot or, in the case of several planned music montages, for music to be located. Another scene that must wait for later includes a long speech, mostly recorded as wild track, that the director wants to help cut together from the several inconsistent takes. I enjoy the cutting immensely, as many of the scenes involve hilarious payoffs or high drama and are fun to assemble. One particularly interesting scene, depicting a medical emergency which strikes one of the missionaries, is shot handheld, and in cutting it I almost feel as if I'm working on an episode of "E.R." The director mostly stays away from the cutting room, hoping to keep "distance" from the cut work (although I show off a scene or two to him early on).
About two weeks after I start, the film is completely assembled but for the skipped scenes. The director brings in several CDs of cleared or clearable music, from which I select three tracks that seem appropriate to the three musical scenes, then cut the montages. The director and I also spend some time assembling the audio for the difficult speech, after which I cut the picture to accompany it. At that point, I inform the director that the first cut is ready to view.
Shortly thereafter, the director and his wife come to the editing room, and we view the cut (which is running slightly over two hours). I am slightly nervous to see how one unscripted change plays--in one scene, I've dropped several shots that, while I originally began to cut them in, struck me as highly superfluous. I've also done some extensive sound-effects work in a few scenes, either looping production audio or laying in clean effects from a CD, and am curious to see how they go over. During the viewing, the reactions of the director and his wife seem good, and when we bring up the lights at the end of the show, they are gratifyingly enthusiastic. "It doesn't suck!" exclaims the director in delight, then explaining that this is in contrast to his usual reaction upon viewing the first cut of a film he's made. And his wife is even more glowing about the cut.
We all spend a half-hour or so discussing the cut and batting around a few suggestions. My primary concern, that one particular short scene be dropped because it paints an antagonistic character (a doubting missionary) as a cardboard villain, is quickly accepted. Finally, we adjourn for the day and prepare to return the following day to begin recuts.
Over the next few weeks, the director and I work together to refine the cut--picking up the pacing, tightening up some scenes by cutting off heads and tails, and recutting several scenes until they are more to his liking, as well as doing some minor scene-shuffling in one section. The working environment is quite cordial, as the director has a pleasantly low-key and wry manner. Following a screening for a few of the directors' friends, we make some further revisions based on their comments, then hold another screening. At this screening, among the invited guests is a composer who will be creating some original score for the film--coincidentally, it's the same composer who wrote the (beautiful) score for the cowgirl documentary I cut earlier in the year! (It turns out she had composed the score for the director's previous feature as well.) We enjoy the opportunity to meet each at last, and I know the film will wind up with a fantastic soundtrack.
To wrap up the project, the director makes (and I cut in) some reshoots--a few helpful insert shots and some close-ups of several actors for two critical scenes. I also cut a theatrical trailer and a thirty-second TV commercial for the film. My first day of work on the trailer is problematic--as I initially try to cut it without using any visual or audio narration--but it all comes together nicely the next morning, when I cave in and decide to add narrative titles after all. The director is pleased with my work but, as I've cut it using actual footage that appears in the film, he asks me to recut it using outtakes only, in order to save him the cost of duplicating the negative. In the cases where identical outtakes don't exist or are somehow unusable, I have the tricky task of somehow recutting those portions of the trailer while still maintaining the piece's tight pacing and flow. The hard work is worth it, though--both the director and his wife are highly enthusiastic about the finished trailer (to which they later receive excellent reactions from test viewers), and the director eventually scraps his initial plans to replace the on-screen titles with voiceover.
During the last couple weeks of work, I receive a few interesting phone calls. One is from the network reality show for which I had done some work earlier in the year--they have some work starting immediately, which naturally I can't accept, but it's gratifying to hear from them just the same.
The other is from the editor whom I assisted for a few days on the HBO kids' show at the beginning of the year: she's been hired to cut a short but high-profile documentary, being made by possibly the best-known American director in the world, and she needs assistants. Unfortunately, the start date is several days before I'll be finished with my current job, and so I regretfully decline, with the request that she call again if the need arises for any additional short-term help.
Meanwhile, it's now time to wrap up the feature. I output one set of tapes for the negative cutter and another for the sound editors and the composer, a higher-resolution viewing tape for the director to show to exhibitors (he plans to self-distribute the film in Utah), and the requisite cut lists and EDLs, and help the director pack up the room. On the way out, he asks me to keep my next summer free, as he plans to make his next movie then and would like me to cut that as well. Although I have heard this line before and rarely seen it amount to anything, I somehow have confidence that this can-do filmmaker means what he says: that he will produce a film next year and will hire me again to cut it.
Fortunately, I have more work to move on to for the immediate future. Within the last day or two...
I do enjoy a few high points in the meantime. The director of the Mormon film schedules a cast-and-crew screening in Hollywood and tells me that I may invite some guests as well. My wife and I make plans to attend, and one evening in early February, I experience--for the first time since three years prior--the pleasure of seeing my work projected in an actual movie theater. The film has been finished very well: the composer has indeed written a wonderful score, and the design, editing, and mixing of the sound are all high-quality. The (naturally sympathetic) audience responds well to both the humorous and dramatic moments in the film, and my friends cheer boisterously when my on-screen credit--one of only four "single-card" credits--appears at the film's end. I'm also excited to see my name in the credit block of the lobby poster for the film, and the director agrees to send me a few of the posters when he has some extra.
Another exciting moment comes when a newspaper reporter in Utah calls to interview me about my work on the film--her paper is running a story about how the director hopes to carve out a new genre in Mormon filmmaking. The article runs that weekend, quoting me a few times, and I learn from it an interesting fact: that the film, which the director is self-distributing, has been accepted for showing by every theater owner who's seen it, and that it will premiere on 13 screens in March before opening wider in Utah. After that, the director plans to exhibit the film across the country via the arthouse theater circuit, perhaps even in L.A.
Also around this time, I speak with the director of the cowgirl documentary I edited the year before. Although the film has not been accepted for screening at any of the festivals to which he's submitted it, the documentary was one of the most-viewed products at the Amsterdam documentary market, attracted the attention of a major sales agent, and seems to have bright hopes for distribution as a foreign (and perhaps even domestic) television program. Another former employer tells me that the small romantic comedy I had edited some two years earlier may find some life on foreign television.
And so, as I wait for the year 2000 to crank up professionally for me, I am cheered to think that in the meantime, some of my best past works may finally show publicly and be seen by audiences, critics, and fellow filmmakers. My hope is that once the names of the films and directors on my resume become more widely recognizable, future work will be easier to find. Time, I'm sure, will tell.
[EXCERPT]
More LDS movies are slated in 2003, including "The R.M.," Hale's follow-up to "The Singles Ward" (due in January), and a mock-documentary, "The Work and the Story," in the offing next fall. Meanwhile, Richard Dutcher -- the guy who started this boom with "God's Army" -- is still trudging away at "The Prophet," his epic biography of Joseph Smith.
Other movie news in 2002: