Story Frame 41 – Two Phone Calls & A Face

American Byzantine was finished and I was both thrilled – and unhappy – with the results. I was happy to see my name in the credits as co-writer and co-producer.

But to be honest, it also felt like I was watching two different films play out side by side – Martin’s version of the film interlaced with my own vision. Artistically and narratively, it wasn’t cohesive. It looked like something made by two people who were not in sync. Because that was exactly what it was. It started out strongly, then somewhere in the telling of the story, it began to dissipate. Just like our relationship.

Despite that, however, the film still needed to make the leap to broadcast, and Dr. Braddock was calling that morning to check on the progress I was making getting it on the air on PBS stations around the country. After listening to my update and having heard about the recent split from Martin’s documentary workshop, he kindly asked how I was doing.

Uncharacteristically, I thought about my response for a moment before answering. And then – equally uncharacteristically – I told him how scared I was. Horrified, I listened as a breathless rush of toxic and despairing thoughts came tumbling out of my mouth, gasping for air.

“Once this project is finished, I have no work lined up. Nothing.” I heard myself say.

“I can’t find another film, and I’ve been unable, despite a lot of effort, to find any job in my profession. I’m a single parent. I have no savings. I don’t know how I am going to pay the bills, hang onto my house and feed my kids.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. And then, he chuckled softly.

Had I said something funny?!

This wasn’t the response I’d been hoping for.

“Kristin,” he said quietly. “May I give you some advice?”

I had just confessed I was completely broke to the funder of my film – could I have sounded any more desperate, unprofessional and pathetic? Hardly. Was I interested in advice from him?

“Yes.” I said, desperately hoping to hear him say he would give me a grant to fund another film.

There was another pause. And then this lovely, gentle, intelligent older man said five words I never expected to hear from a self-made millionaire scientist and engineer.

“Let go and let God,” he said.

Pardon me?

I couldn’t believe my ears. These words didn’t have the ring of steady paycheck potential to me. I wanted to scream into the phone.

That’s it?! How’s that going to pay the bills? I just confessed my desperation, my fear of defaulting on my mother’s mortgage, and not being able to feed my kids. You’re a successful, professional and entrepreneurial businessman – and that’s all you’ve got for me!?

Worried these thoughts might be screaming so loudly inside my head he’d be able to hear them, I forced myself to thank him politely and hung up as soon as I could.

I was no stranger to tough times and uncertainty, but that night was possibly the worst one yet. Alone in my dark bedroom that night, the kids sleeping peacefully in theirs, blissfully unaware of the financial precipice we were precariously perched upon, I tried to rationalize my devastating disappointment in what had been pretty much my last hope. Alone, frightened, and bereft of resources and ideas, Dr. Braddock’s five words of advice floated around in my head like ephemeral wisps of clouds – thin, vaporous, useless. And somewhat ironic.

Although I’d worked for a Catholic filmmaker who explored religion-based stories in documentary format for the past seven years, I’m not Catholic. I’m not even a Christian. I’m half-Scandinavian. The closest world view to mine is basic existentialism as laid out in the writings and thoughts of Danish theologian Søren Kierkegaard: life isn’t inherently coherent, meaningful, or particularly conducive to happiness; it’s up to us, as individuals, to work to create order, meaning, and happiness – if that’s what we want. The personal responsibility perspective appeals to me. I also took it as a sign from the universe that I happened to be born on Kierkegaard’s birthday – May 5^th.

At that moment, however, my mind was not on Kierkegaard. Unable to sleep, alone with my fears, struggling to admit to myself that I was out of ideas, options and possibilities, and that I might need to swallow my pride and apply for public assistance, I decided to follow Dr. Braddock’s advice that night. What the hell? I thought and floated my thoughts grudgingly up towards the blackness of my bedroom ceiling.

I have no other options at the moment. It’s been suggested I let go and get out of Your way. So, here You are. Take it all! Do what You will with it. I’m taking the night off.

And with that, I gave myself permission to part with my anxieties until the sun came up again and drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, my cell phone buzzed just after I’d dropped the kids off at school.

“Kristin!”

The voice of a different Dr. B. boomed my name into my ear by way of greeting. It was Dr. William F Baker, the General Manager of the largest PBS station in the country, WNET in New York City. Although he’d been our executive producer for both Final Blessing and American Byzantine, it was unusual to get a phone call from him.

“I’ve got a project for you!” he continued, without waiting for a response. “It’s called, The Face: Jesus in Art. Are you interested?”

The film was already finished, Dr. Baker explained, and it was stunning. A multi-million-dollar, epic and beautiful celebration of two thousand years of paintings and mosaics of Jesus that included Giotto’s 14th-century frescoes, works by Michelangelo, Leonardo, Rembrandt, and Grunewald, as well as 14th-century Ethiopian images, Latin American and Asian art, and more contemporary examples by Marc Chagall, Andy Warhol and African American folk artist, William H. Johnson. Directed by Craig MacGowan, the film was shot by Dean Cundey (Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Back to the Future, Hook, Jurassic Park) and featured a state-of-the-art morphing technique of the paintings by Christopher Cundey, his son. The film was narrated by Mel Gibson, Edward Herrmann, Ricardo Montalban, and Patricia Neal.

Would I be interested, he asked, in marketing his film to PBS stations around the country? And doing the film’s national press, as well as organizing – on his behalf – the film’s world premiere at New York City’s iconic Radio City Music Hall?

I was speechless. It would be at least half a year’s work. And, an art film on Jesus?

The irony of it all was astonishing. The metamorphosis from being in documentary film production to becoming a documentary film consultant had begun.

What I did not know – what I had no way of knowing at the time – was that this film would be the first of more than 150 films I would consult on over the next two and a half decades. Films that were yet to be made, yet to be dreamed up, yet to be funded and produced – all of which I would work with in some capacity; many of which would influence, impact and change my life.

Coming up next … Story Frame 42 – A Wrangler is Born

[photo: The Vatican, Rome, 2019 by Kristin Fellows]