Doug Block was already an award-winning independent director, cameraman, and producer
when he encountered the World Wide Web and found Justin Hall's website, Justin's
Links (http://www.links.net), a best-case example of personal web publishing, wherein
Hall discloses all aspects of his life in three-dimensional hypertext. Hall's friends
and lovers are alternately fascinated, embarrassed, and horrified by the revelations
about themselves they find there. Hall is charismatic, engaging; a skillful writer/observer
whose obsession with self-expression is constrained only by the physical (his obsessive
posting and surfing has led to a crippling case of carpal tunnel syndrome). In Hall,
director Block saw star quality, and found the focus he needed for a documentary
he wanted to create about the World Wide Web. He shot the documentary, Home Page,
in Hi-8 video, and is nearing completion of a final edit. Home Page shows
what's truly compelling about the Internet and the World Wide Web, what draws so
many to sustained, sometimes almost obsessive, online interaction... we see how intense
relationships and tight communities evolve from ongoing conversations in cyberspace.
Doug Block agreed to conduct this interview with me while editing of Home Page
proceeded. We "talked" online, in the Filmmaking Conference on the grandmother
of all virtual communities, the WELL. I asked Block to start by introducing himself:
Doug Block: The films I've worked on in the past decade have been personal films,
shot on video, transferred to film and released widely to festivals, theatres, and
international TV. They include The Heck With Hollywood! (producer, director,
cameraman), Silverlake Life and Jupiter's Wife (co-producer), and A
Perfect Candidate (cameraman). So when I got on the Web for the first time in
early '96, I immediately gravitated to the personal sites: mainly, personal home
pages and online diaries. The rest of the Web held little interest. I didn't really
have the time to delve into the commercial stuff, and most seemed like dreck anyway.
However, I loved the way I could hurtle around home pages, hurtle in and out of people's
lives, following the links and connections and forming my own non-linear narrative.
I wanted to learn more about the Web, in a sense "capture" the Web, but
in the medium I was more familiar with. So I searched around the Web, found some
interesting starting points and e-mailed people. Hi, I'm doing a documentary,
I'd write. Can I hang out with you a bit? Ultimately, all links led to http://www.links.net
and Justin Hall, and he became the focus of the film. Of course, his story
links to many other stories: Howard Rheingold, Julie Petersen, Abbe Don, Carl Steadman,
Joey Anuff, Rebecca Eisenberg, HotWired, Suck, and Electric Minds, among others.
And, inevitably, my own.
I came across a quote recently from a book called Internet Dreams: Archetypes,
Myths and Metaphors by a guy named Stefik. "Our search for understanding
of the information highway is, ultimately, a search for ourselves and the future
we choose to inhabit." That kind of sums it all up in a nutshell. In Home
Page I try to ignore computer screens, the technology, and technical mumbo jumbo
and focus on the human story and the human implications of personal Web publishing.
You can't go into a personal documentary of this type with too strong of a notion.
You have to go with the flow, be open to where your material leads you. I thought
of the film as a quest, a kind of modern-day road movie, where I meet quirky, interesting
people and have memorable experiences. The only thing I really knew was that I didn't
know what the quest was about - on a personal level, that is. I slowly discovered
it as I went along.
The other concept I had in mind from the beginning was that of links. There's
a strong analogy between hypertext links and film editing, and, once I found Justin,
I felt if I followed him long enough I'd be able to tie in the stories of many of
those "linked" to him - friends, lovers, rivals, peers. I wanted to convey
the sense of the Web's non-linearity in a linear framework, namely a film narrative.
It's a delicate balance that we're working to maintain in the editing.
What was so immediately appealing about Justin was that he's every bit as energetic,
charismatic, bright, funny, and candid in person as he is in his Web writing. He
seemed to me the living breathing embodiment of the Web, and, once I encountered
him, everything just kind of flowed from there. The simple truth is I just enjoyed
being around him and wanted to hang with him and learn from him. I denied it for
a while, hanging on to my concept of a multiple storyline narrative, but I sensed
almost the minute I saw him (and saw that hair!) that I had found a "star"
to hang the story on.
Others were uniformly engaging on camera - not surprising that people doing cutting-edge
or very personal websites happen to be extremely interesting people. Some were
different than I expected, though. For instance, I was warned that Suckster Carl
Steadman was some kind of snide, sarcastic, snarly beast. In fact, I found him surprisingly
warm, even vulnerable. As well as snide, sarcastic, and snarly.
AC: I was fascinated by the reactions of Justin's friends and acquaintances
to his tendency to record all aspects of his, and (by association) their, lives.
They were sort of laughing it off, but there seemed to be an underlying tension.
DB: Yes, I did find a great deal of tension in the reactions of those Justin comes
in contact with regarding their "representation" on his pages. Many of
his classmates dislike what Justin is doing, including my own stepson. They feel
he goes too far in invading the privacy of others and are highly suspicious of his
motives. Of course, being polite kids, they're not going to make a scene, but they
let their feelings be known. On the other hand, others are attracted to him for the
very same reason - for example, the girlfriend who accessed his Web page on camera
to find out what Justin had written about their weekend together and what the status
of their relationship is. Or the prominent Web journalist who traveled with him for
part of his Web evangelism road tour and wrote about him largely out of sexual attraction
(and knowing he would likely write an account of their sexual activities - which,
in fact, he did).
What I didn't count on at the beginning was that there would
be tension between me, as documentarian chronicling Justin on tape, and Justin, as
Web documentarian chronicling his life but also being chronicled.
I didn't anticipate that I would ever have my own website, particularly one that
would report my ongoing process. And that on my website I would be writing about
Justin. And that it would interfere with the process in certain ways. Or that, at
times, Justin would grab my camera and turn it around on me and ask embarrassing
questions. I wasn't prepared for my own privacy to be invaded by a master of invasion.
I wonder now, though, even as I write this, if I wasn't, on some level, attracted
to Justin for a similar reason as that journalist. Not that I wanted sex with him,
but that I was fascinated by the prospect of his writing up our interaction, and
that would create an interesting tension between filmmaker and subject.
But, in the end, tension is good. Tension makes for drama and humor and compelling
storytelling. We don't mind tension one little bit, us documentary chroniclers of
the human experience.
AC: Justin dropped off the Web not long ago, the victim of severe carpal tunnel
syndrome. Have you worked that into the story? What happens to Justin when he's deprived
of his "instrument"?
DB: It's basically revealed as a note at the end. I knew I could happily go on
forever, chronicling Justin and his links, particularly since Hi-8 stock is so inexpensive.
But as I spent more and more time in San Francisco filming Justin, Howard Rheingold,
and others, they were frantically preparing for the launch of Electric Minds (http://www.minds.com),
and it occurred to me that the actual moment of the launch, and the ensuing celebration,
would make a natural ending to the story - and leave things on a hopeful note. I
felt Minds represented a crossroads of Net idealism and Net commercialism, that its
ultimate destiny will tell us a lot about the future of the Web. Ending with Minds
also broadens the scope of the story from the microcosm (Justin's individual Web
pages) to the macrocosm (the wider virtual community).
The launch was last November. I'll tie up all the storylines in an epilogue by
following ensuing events over the next year virtually, even as I edit, via Justin's
website. In this case, I'm literally shooting off the computer screen, with tight
close-ups and camera moves.
All throughout shooting, we see Justin's carpal tunnel getting progressively worse,
but it's still a powerful moment when we reveal that he's been shut down by his own
body. Justin had a picture of himself on his front page holding his bandaged hands
in the air. The only accompanying text was (in Justin's inimitable fringlish): "I
used to keep a daily online journal. It durned near kilt me."
The current difficulties of Electric Minds will also be mentioned in the epilogue,
adding another poignant and, hopefully, uplifting note, as its members band together
to keep the community intact under another guise.
AC: You have a scene where your wife's in bed fast asleep and you're banging
away at your keyboard in the next room... do you catch flak about spending so much
time online?
DB: I'd say my wife is alternately bemused by and bemoans my late night travels
on the Web. She doesn't get it. But then, she likes sleep.
AC: As for the companies that have shown a financial interest... has there
been any sense that they might want to control content in any way? In order to get
financing, do you anticipate struggle for creative control?
DB: The way I work is to bring a film to a certain point on spec - usually to
where a good deal has been shot and it has a strong sample - so that financiers don't
have the option of dictating content. They see pretty much what they're getting.
Having a successful track record doesn't hurt a bit, either.
That said, yes, creative control was a big issue with Cinemax, which is owned
by HBO. At one point in the discussion, they floated the notion of putting up the
entire budget [for Home Page] and making it an HBO project, but only if they
had final cut. They made it stunningly clear that they interfere/intervene in direct
proportion to the percentage of their financial participation.
It's not like this kind of arrangement can't work out - it's exactly the deal
Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky had for Paradise Lost, and The Celluloid
Closet had too, and my understanding is both did very well with a minimum of
problems.
I have no problem whatsoever with HBO having editorial input. These are savvy
folks who know good filmmaking, and I'd be stupid not to listen to their comments.
But I wasn't about to accept anything less than full editorial control on such an
intensely personal film. So it quickly returned to being a Cinemax "Reel Life"
deal.
It may have cost me a pile of money - it's hard to say since the offer was vague.
But I haven't given it one thought since. Hey, money isn't real until it's in the
bank, anyway.
AC: What was it like shooting around the nascent Electric Minds? I seem to
recall designer Abbe Don saying how they ran you out of a meeting, then saw you were
still at it, shooting through a window...!?!
DB: Shooting at EMinds was a bit tense, at first, as I came in a few weeks before
launch and everyone was testy and ODing on Jolt cola. I understood completely - everybody
had a lot at stake, especially Howard. Luckily, I'd met Abbe at the Digital Storytelling
Festival the month before and gotten her support. That helped a lot. She's a former
filmmaker and understood what I was doing. Howard came to be grudgingly supportive
and respectful but was always unamused by my presence. Justin was, as always, Justin.
Basically, I wore 'em down. So much of documentary filmmaking is just being persistent.
People tend to respect your commitment if you just keep coming back and respect their
space. All in all, shooting at EMinds was a privilege, just being around so many
intense personalities so committed to their work.
AC: How many hours of video have you shot? Can you talk a bit about your process
for editing that raw stock into something you can love?
DB: With the latest shoot, I'm on my 105th hour. My editor, Debbie Rosenberg,
and I screened and logged (by hand) the footage every weekday for two months starting
in early January. We talked a lot about how scenes might cut together and where they
might cut to or from. Then Debbie holed up and started cutting individual scenes
on our creaky old VHS edit system. She did a truly brilliant thing, too. She started
with the most difficult material, which comes around the middle of the film. Now
we're fanning out in both directions, toward the ending and toward the beginning,
not necessarily in any clear order.
The middle stuff happens to be when Justin came to San Francisco, and is where a
lot of the other characters first appear - Howard, Julie and Jim Petersen, Rebecca
Eisenberg, Carl Steadman, and Joey Anuff. Once we started cutting, it was apparent
that the relationship between Justin and Howard was critical to the story. The theme
of Justin's search for intimacy became clearer, and now dictates how we're editing
the earlier footage with hifim.
While we love anything that makes us laugh, and there's a lot of funny stuff we're
trying to ram into the finished film, we're really guided by one overriding concern
- story arc.
Strangely enough, I've had the ending of the film (by that, I mean the last few
scenes) in my head, very clearly, for months now (although the epilogue obviously
won't be done til the last minute). It's the beginning of the film that still keeps
me awake at night.
The film, however, is a story - a linear voyage that is framed by my personal
experience. Hopefully, it conveys a sense of the Web's non-linearity in the way it
delves in and out of a number of storylines, but it'll be a narrative in the best
sense.