When we went to Sundance, you could feel the silences, and you could feel people starting to sort of breathe in step with the scenes. And then knowing that Netflix was so into the film and so willing to support it and had a vision for how to do that, to push it out into the world, felt like we were like a garage band that was suddenly plugged into a really big amplifier.
Is that what it feels when, when you have an independent film purchased by something as large as Netflix?
I think a lot of filmmakers, storytellers, are in the gambling business, because anyone who asks me, “should I invest in film?” I’m like, “If you want to make money, then go invest in real estate.” But if you want to invest in the creative process, come what may, then yeah, get involved in investing in movies.
There’s this sort of excitement and nervousness, particularly for the filmmakers. When it gets picked up, I think it’s important to remind yourself that a small story and an independent story can be as big as the biggest movie you’ve seen, because story and character, I think, are the most important things. Spectacle movies, I believe, only really work because of the human relationships within them. Human relationships and character are the great equalizers. So a $4 million movie can make as much noise as a $150 million movie. And I think Train Dreams is a good example of that.
As a writer-director, what did you learn from watching some of your previous directors, like Baz Luhrmann and Kathryn Bigelow?
I feel like I go around with a basket and I’m like, “oh, that’s, that’s a good thing to remember.” Kathryn Bigelow, I remember asking her one time because she seemed so calm on set—and that was on Zero Dark Thirty, and that was a set I imagine you could also not be calm on. She said, “I hire the best people, and I get out of their way.” And Baz is a master. He teaches you just by osmosis to dream big, and to not let your ceiling be too low.
Have you ever had a director you didn’t gel with?
I think it’s a shame if you ever end up on a film and realize you are left to your own devices. And even further than that, I would say I think it’s a shame when an actor thinks they can go and sail their own ship, and leave the director behind as if the director has nothing to provide them.
It’s a very important relationship. The director should be captain, and everybody else should be doing whatever they need to do to help the captain arrive at their destination. I have seen a director implode—it’s a difficult job, and the best directors become a sponge and absorb things and sort of really grow within the experience. I’ve seen that happen once, where somebody didn’t grow—they diminished within the experience, and it hobbled them. And I saw that person about two years later and I said, “are you ever gonna direct another movie?” And they said, “you know, I realized, Joel, that being a director, you get asked a lot of questions, and you need to have the answer to all of those questions.” He said, “next time, if there ever is a next time, I’m gonna have answers to those questions—even if they’re the wrong ones, just so that I seem to have the answers to those questions.” I was like, “oh no!”
