Eastern NC and Vietnam

Centennial is one of my favorite books. The book has always stuck with me, although I confess that I last read it in high school (about 10 years ago for anyone counting). What has stuck with me the most is the story of the land, and the people living on it and from it. The story is both beautiful and ugly simultaneously. I would like to read it again when I have a week at the beach sometime. It’s a good book.

While sitting in the sun Down East this weekend, I found myself thinking about Centennial and how the author uses the land to shape his characters. I have always felt connected to the land in eastern North Carolina, the water that surrounds it, and the wide open skies that embrace it all. Years ago, I was so connected to it that I could predict a storm before the sky darkened and the first drop of rain fell. (Well, perhaps it was the change in barometric pressure more than a prediction.) The land in eastern North Carolina has helped shape who I am and the way in which I live my life. When anyone asks where I am from my answer is always a prideful, “Eastern North Carolina.”

This weekend I thought about Centennial a few times, as it so beautifully describes the connection between the land and human life. While in Eastern North Carolina, the area in which I was born and raised, I thought of the Montagnards and how their homeland has shaped their lives. They are from the central highlands of Vietnam, although you would not call them Vietnamese.

Oh, how they must miss that land after they leave. So many of them now live in North Carolina, and I can only imagine how much they miss the way things once were in the central highlands of Vietnam. In our interviews, the longing for home is almost palpable.

The history of the Montagnards is directly related to the lands they once inhabited in relative isolation. They knew the land, how to farm it and care for it. It was their livelihood. And knowing that, I now understand how land reform has been used to hurt the Montagnards. By limiting the amount of land available to farm, it limits other things like the amount of food available for the Montagnards.

This is not something that happened once, during the war many years ago. The persecution of the Montagnards continues today. My visit to my own homeland this weekend kept me thinking about the Montagnards, and how connected they are to the central highlands of Vietnam. I get asked frequently if this filmmaking adventure has taken me there. Perhaps one day.

Independence Day

This week my friend and I went to our favorite pub. We like the pub because it is consistently entertaining and feels like our own version of Cheers, where everyone knows our names. The pub is full of people cycling through, and we come home with the most interesting stories. This week, I met a red headed, freckle-faced Marine named McCready.

We talked for a while about sand spiders in Afghanistan. Someone I know recently told me these spiders can be as big as the size of a steering wheel, and I want to know if it's true or not. McCready tells me someone has been exaggerating. But they do get to be really big, about the size of your hand. And they crawl into cool places, like sleeping bags. I can handle spiders, but not when they're the size of a steering wheel. We talk about Afghanistan, and about being a Marine.

He tells me about war strategies, and losing some level of hearing in his left ear because of an IED. He talks about the extreme heat in Afghanistan. Sleeping in holes in the sand. Jealousy of those stationed in Iraq because the conditions are much better now, and they have a McDonald's. He talks about how he disklikes training new recruits. He talks about recruiting during a war. And about the differences of fighting a world war in comparison to these smaller wars that are largely misunderstood or supported.

Our conversation pauses for a moment. McCready looks embarrassed that he has been talking for so long about the Marines and Afghanistan. The pause seems to bring him back to the present, sitting in a pub talking with an American woman that's never been there, much less through any military training.

"Sorry. I could talk about it all day," McCready says. "I'm sure it's boring."

He mistakes the pause as my lack of interest. In reality, I am letting it all sink in. Little does he know just how enthralled I am by the details. It's not likely that he'll understand that without knowing about our film.

I tell him about the documentary, the research, interviews, subject matter, and meeting people like Col. Roger Donlon, Mike Benge, Maj. John Plaster and the Montagnards. I tell him their stories, because I have been mentally living their experiences in Vietnam for so long. I tell him their stories because that's what I know well now, and it mimics what he has been sharing with me. I tell him about Col. Roger Donlon's experience at Nam Dong, and Maj. John Plaster's experience behind enemy lines. I tell him about Mike Benge getting captured, and his experience as a POW. I tell him about Viet Cong war strategy, and the relationship between the Montagnards and Special Forces.

Then, similarly, I realize I've been talking too long. And the pause brings me back to the present, sitting in a pub with a soldier surrounded by people drinking heavily and laughing loudly. The setting is a stark contrast to our conversation, and the pause jolts me back to the present moment.

We sit there, in a crowded and very loud pub. Two strangers from very different places, unexpectedly finding common ground. I am silent at the thought of what's happening today, and how closely it mimics what I have been studying about the Vietnam War. He again looks a little uncomfortable, and asks if I'm OK since I'm visibly lost in thought.

Our eyes reconnect, and I smile. "Yes, thank you. I'm fine." He seems more at ease.

He is protective about others constantly bumping into me, but in an old fashioned and very polite way. Like a gentleman, he helps me find a seat so that we can keep talking with less distraction. He offers to buy me a beer as we continue to talk. Our bar tender, now busy with a new incoming crowd, misses McCready's signal for drinks. I offer a quick glance at our favorite bar tender, who he responds immidiately to my eye contact. It makes me think that McCready's restrained strength could be easily missed. He does not advertise it, nor does he demand attention. His manners, gentlemanly ways, stature and stance remind me of my grandfather.

My grandfather would be celebrating his wedding anniversary tomorrow were he still alive. He was a Marine. Semper Fi to the day he died. A true gentleman who opened doors, wrote love letters to his wife, and fought during WWII. Never pushy or militant. Never boastful. But humble with a quiet, restrained strength.

In his honor, my grandmother still gives red, white and blue flowers to the church for the alter during our nation's Independence Day weekend in honor of their wedding anniversary. They got married in their hometown, at a little church, and had a reception at my grandmother's family home. The black and white pictures of them are so charming. In the photo, she carries flowers from her family's garden wearing an understated white dress, and he wears his Marine dress uniform. She still points at the picture, smiles, and says, "Isn't he handsome?" The love for her late husband has never left her eyes or her smile. It's almost tangible. One of those things that seems almost unfathomable today, when you find yourself in a conversation about the recession, bad job market and divorce rates. Her continued love for him seems like an enigma, something you can't believe until you witness it first hand.

Suddenly, the details of my life, and all that has happened before I was born seems orchestrated by a force larger than me. All of the details that feel so unrelated and nebulous start to form a recognizable pattern. Something that feels like it's leading me towards a future that is uncertain, but beautiful. Something that gives me hope that we will finish this film soon and share it with others. Something that uplifts my spirit, and makes me feel a great sense of pride for our country. A country that has not always done the right thing and is not presently favored by the world, but a country that has the chance to change the future. Suddenly, I understand that the possibilities that are truly endless.

Suddenly, too, my friend signals that it is time to go. I shake the Marine's hand. I thank McCready for his service, the time he's just shared with me, and the drink he bought me. And as we walk out of our pub, my friends laugh loudly about something unrelated. I walk quietly, realizing that, to me, this man represents what Independence Day means right now. I look over my shoulder, caught between my laughing friends and the quiet McCready still sitting at the bar.

He's the man on the ground. He's the one who lost hearing in his left ear because an IED blew up. He's the one sleeping in a hole in the sand, fighting in a war that I don't fully understand. He's the one training new soldiers, so they don't make mistakes. He's the one waiting to be shot at by the enemy because he's not allowed to shoot first. He's the one in 140 degree heat making sure I can stay comfortable in my home here in North Carolina.

Today, the sun is shining. Blue, peaceful skies and green grass surround me. My family and friends are grilling out. The pool is open and inticing. Life is good. And I find myself appreciating it more because of working on this film. I hope, with genuine sincerity, that this film may honor and uplift those that have given me the great priveledge of this freedom and independence. It is not something I take for granted. That is certain.

Creatures of Habit

Humans are creatures of habit. So, I'm going to do my best to keep updating this blog at least once a week. Conversations today lead me to the understanding that I'm so focused on finishing the film, that I am neglecting other areas of the film's development. This blog is one of them. I took a double, then triple, look at the date of my last entry. It's been more than a month since I last posted something!

No doubt, a lot has happened since then:

• Matthew (or Doc, as he is nicknamed by our mutual friends) finished digitizing all of the footage, which has been an absolutely tremendous support. He's also been very helpful in keeping me sane, telling me the emotions that I'll go through as we embark on the post-production journey.
  
• We finished transcribing all of the interviews, and I have a notebook full of dog-eared, poorly numbered pages.
  
• Matt has also started coming over to edit the footage, muddling through my maddening notes. He's a patient being, and is earning his place in heaven for his work. He's been helping me figure out what we'll need to do once the first draft is finished: tweak transitions, edit the audio so it is all similar, pinpoint where we want animated graphics and images, etc.
  
• And, my biggest, most exciting film news recently: We now have at least one minute of edited footage on the timeline!

It's been a painstaking process, but one that is clearly worthwhile. Every step of the process has proven that this project is SO much bigger than just me, and those that immediately surround me. We, as humans, need to know that we're a part of something bigger than ourselves, I think. This film is definitely proof of that. It's not just a film about the Montagnards and Special Forces, it's a film about humanity, how we treat one another, the art of war, individual sacrifice, and consequences of our actions. Above all else, it's about keeping promises.

Every time I meet a soldier, the film naturally comes up in conversation. They are fascinated, I believe, by the discovery in a casual conversation and the fact that (1) a woman is making a film about the Montagnards and Special Forces, (2) I know the term Montagnard, and (3) how I can see the connection between the Vietnam War and the war overseas today. It has happened several times over the past few months, and each time the response has been something to the effect of, "Please do us right. Tell our story, and let everyone know."

It genuinely brings tears to my eyes as I write it. I remember how they stare me dead in the eye, asking with such authority and simultaneously with such helplessness. I frequently feel so small and insignificant, but at those moments I realize that I've been charged with something so huge.

Next Steps
There's so much work left to be done, but we are moving along at a pace that we can bear. I work full time (as do many of my other volunteers), so nights and weekends are film time. But sometimes those things get interrupted by things that life brings with it: supporting family and friends, chores like paying bills or cleaning house, and every now and then mini-vacations to keep ourselves balanced.

Once we get the first draft finished, we'll review what we have and possibly reorganize some of the clips. At that point, we'll decide if we need a voiceover or not. Then we'll identify where we need to use still images, music and animated graphics. Once we get that official director's cut ready--the draft that is as polished as we think it can get--we'll show it to select audiences (or test groups) to see what the reactions are to the film. I think I'd like to have a few different test audiences. After that, we'll likely have some tweaks to make. Somewhere in there, we'll bring in the marketing / communications team. (Yay! Something that's familiar territory.) Then we will finally start to release it to broader, bigger audiences. And from that point forward, I imagine, it just might be coasting from there.

We'll need things like a learning center to share info about the Montagnards and Special Forces, bios for the cast and crew, a photo gallery, etc. And I imagine that we will need a press kit with some of that information available for download.

I'm incredibly anxious to keep things moving forward. But, I promise to keep updating this blog more often. It has clearly been neglected, which contradicts the amount of work that is still happening on the film.

Yes, I'm quite excited. Surry gave me another pep talk today. It was exactly what I needed to hear, and I'm so eternally grateful to him for the unending support and guidance he continues to provide. Perhaps I'll convince him to one day work on an autobiography! He's a fascinating person, full of talent, passion, wisdom, surprises and amazing stories.

Filmmaking: The Work of Art

This is the first screenplay I've ever written in completion.  It's quite an undertaking, and I will confess that I underestimated how much a writer must surely labor over every line and every transition in the story.

So, from time to time, I will look up from my screenplay and day dream to give my mind a moment to explore ideas beyond the story of the Montagnards, Special Forces and Vietnam War.  This can be viewed by some as time that's not productive--but to the artist, it is absolutely necessary because it allows the mind to wander, explore and create the unexpected.

During the past week or two, these moments of exploration continuously bring me to a slowly forming list.  Because of my obsessive reading over the years, I have been told that a person in Hollywood must have a list of favorite movies, because people in the business like to talk about the business of making movies.  While I'm in Raleigh, N.C., making my first documentary with my team of volunteers (a much smaller scale production that a Hollywood blockbuster film), I can completely understand the practice.  It's the same concept of social media: people talk about what interests them and are attracted to people that share what my mom calls common points of reference.  Simply put: it's something to talk about and that gives you a way to feel connected to other people.

Choosing favorites, for me, is really difficult.  I'm an artist.  I don't want to choose one favorite color because I want to use them all at some point.  Regardless, though, I find myself making my own list of favorite movies--for completely different reasons than those books about surviving / thriving in Hollywood told me were important.

Now I find myself reliving the movies I've loved for years, and adding them to my list, because I appreciate them for so much more than just a good movie.  They are true works of art.  Stories that have made me cry or weep uncontrollably, laugh out loud, change my behavior, share a personal joke with the friend that saw it with me, learn about something happening in our world today...the list goes on.

While I've been laboring over the screenplay, I look up from time to time and let my mind wander.  It continues to return to this list of favorite movies, and why I love them so much.  I now understand, from my own smaller scale experience, how much work went into creating them.  Labors of love that created the final work of art.  I only hope our final, finished product will be one that moves our audience as much as my favorites have moved me.

The story of the Montagnards is a beautiful, yet tragic one.  When I tell people what it's about, I usually say it's a story of brotherhood, family, love, sacrifice, war, death, promises, policy, glory and freedom.  It's about a group of people and how they've adapted to the changes around them.  I only hope, with the deepest genuine promise I can offer, that we do the story justice.  And I think that's an honest fear that all artists face, no matter their medium.

Nearing Year End

Christmas is this week. I'm still in shock that the year has gone by so quickly. I suppose that's what happens when you're working on a project you enjoy this much! There is so much more work to be done, and time just keeps slipping away each day.

Today I did a wee bit of Christmas shopping on my lunch break. Over at Southeastern Camera, I feel like a kid in a candy shop. There's so much to drool over in the store, and every time I go in there's the chance to catch up with my friends that work there. They are so kind and helpful. Today they gave me about half a dozen fresh Florida oranges for free! (For those of you who know me well, you know that is a bit of heaven. Oranges are one of my favorite foods, and I do love something free as well!)

While I was in the store, I ran into one of the guys I met while working on my film. His name is Alex, and he's a local photographer and friend of many of the folks I know in the Montagnard community. We shot a Montagnard-American wedding over the summer. He asked how the film was coming along and told me about some of the projects he is working on. We talked shop a little while and caught up. It was delightful to see a smiling face that I had not seen in so many months. This project has introduced me to some of the finest people, and I am so grateful for that.

As the holidays draw near, and I spend more and more time with family, I realize how much I have learned from the Montagnard culture in the past year. The cultural traditions that keep the family close together, serving and supporting one another, and holding each other accountable as a community are so valuable.

The Montagnards as a whole have faced great adversity, and have done so much to smile in the face of trouble. I reflect on a line from Louis L'Amour that has stuck with me for years, as he wrote about the cowboys he met and studied. He talked about how hard they worked, how they suffered, and coped with changing times. In the midst of it all, they shared this one common trait in his opinion: dignity. No matter what they had seen, they all shared a quiet dignity about them.

Many of the Montagnards I have met over the past year have been the leaders in their community. Many of the servicemen and experts on the Montagnard culture are leaders in their community. And each person that has sat down with me, in front of my camera, to share their story has had this same quiet dignity.

Leadership is not something you can learn by attending Harvard, Stanford or Yale. It is something that must be earned and learned. Education and experience that go hand in hand to shape a great leader. It is something that rests deep inside one and grows from that core when nurtured or forced by necessity. Leadership is an ever-changing shape that can be at one moment tougher than titanium or at another moment very calm and serene. A pent up energy that may be released when provoked. In short, the lion and the lamb all in one.

These men with whom I have spoken are fascinating to me. They are great leaders, yet humble in every way. They are strong and proud, but not loud and boastful--that difference is very important to note. They are the heroes of our time, and yet they walk among us each day.

As we near the end of a year, I hope to spend more time reflecting on 2008--the year that permitted me to finally rise out of the dreamer's resting post and run towards the dream. As we race faster towards welcoming a new day, a new January 1st, I hope to spend more time sketching out the upcoming days, months and year. One thing is for certain, it will be one wild adventure!