When Junkshow Goes Viral
It started out as a junkshow
J.P. Auclair is a hazel-eyed freestyle skier from Quebec with mad skills. Dave Mossop is filmmaker from British Columbia with a big grin and a head full of ideas. And when the two of them got together for the first time to start filming a segment for Mossop's feature film, All. I. Can., it was...well, it was a big misunderstanding.
In an interview with Powder Magazine's Tim Mutrie, Auclair said that when Mossop first asked him to work on the project after seeing what he had done in Revolver, a film by Poor Boyz Productions where Auclair had displayed his penchant for gliding along urban rails and hucking off of buildings in a single bound, he declined. He was done with urban skiing, he said, taking a new direction.
But because he knew the quality of Mossop's work, he got sucked in, changed his mind. Months later, when the crew met in a little city in British Columbia, both came to the shoot assuming the other would have a plan. It seems that Mossop thought they'd pop in, grab some sweet shots, and they'd be done. Auclair had to set him straight. What Mossop had seen in Revolver had taken him ten years to scope out. And besides, he was an old guy now, as far as skiing goes. Thirty-four. He couldn't just jump into something like that.
That, he said, was when they went into freak-out mode.
Mossop said let's just shoot and see what happens. So they caught a tracking shot in the only spot anyone had scoped out ahead of time. It rattled up a memory for Auclair, one of being a kid in the car, watching as an imaginary skier glissaded over the urban terrain, doing jibs and backflips over whatever lay before him.
It was just enough to spark a fire in Auclair.
"Since it was like an old dream of mine," Auclair told Powder Mag, "it wasn’t too hard to come up with stuff because it was pretty vivid in my head. "
They decided to focus on direction and continuity, depending on the kindness of strangers for the use of their yards, driveways, and clotheslines, as they created a narrative film about extreme skiing and environmentalism in a town called Trail. When the weather was right, they'd shoot. When it wasn't, they'd scope. They were deeply immersed in the project, enjoying the process, working hard, and editing as they went.
When it came time to wrap up two weeks later, the ending delivered itself right to their feet. Literally. The bus at the end of the shot was a real bus, on a real route, not something they had planned or arranged. Mossop told Ryan Dunfee of BroBomb that as he heard the bus ambling up the street toward them (wish I could say it was on Picabo Street, but you can't have everything), he dove into place, set the camera on the ground, and hit record. Auclair popped off his skis and stepped onto the bus. It's destination sign read, no kidding, "Uphill."
But here's the crazy thing: while they were having a blast during the shooting, they also thought they were making a mess.
"To us it was like a total junkshow, a trainwreck," Auclair told Powder Mag. "The whole time, we were like, I wish we had more time. I wish the weather was better. I wish we could be more organized. I wish I had three more tries to get this trick."
In spite of those obstacles, they kept at it, working with what they had. In the end, they only left five shots in the cutting room.
It wasn't until the full-length feature was released and someone pirated Auclair's street segment, popped it onto the web, and drew 40,000 hits in a couple of days that they realized what they'd done. Sherpa Cinemas uploaded the high-quality version, and it went viral.
"Right after that it got like 125,000 hits in the first 24 hours," Auclair told Powder Mag. "It was totally mind blowing. I was basically sitting at my computer all day just watching the views go up, going, ‘Oh my God, this is crazy.’"
If you're a writer, I'm sure you can see what I'm getting at here. I hope you can. Okay, maybe you can't.
Let me spell it out for you.
There are going to be days when you come to the blank page super excited, ready to record your mad skills, saying, "Okay, show me what you've got," and the page blinks back at you and says, "Um...aren't you the one with the ideas, here?" You'll stare at each other uncomfortably for a few minutes, shift from foot to foot, and then, you'll probably go into full freak-out mode. If you're anything like me, that's when you'll say, "You know what? I'm too old for this. I have nothing. Nada. It's cold out here and this is a total junkshow."
But don't pop off your skis, pack up your gear and head to the lodge for hot cocoa just yet. Do yourself a favor.
Lay some tracks.
Film that first shot.
Dirty up the freshies.
What I mean is, write that first sentence to break the ice. It doesn't have to be an amazing sentence. As a matter of fact, after you're done writing, you might not even keep it. But get it out there, and see what happens next.
Because, most likely, it will spark something, just like it did for Auclair. You'll remember something from your childhood, or the gears will turn, and you'll gain some direction, some vision. Soon, you'll be soaring down the slopes, navigating the moguls.
And you'll love the process!
At times, you'll find yourself wishing you had more time, wishing you were more organized, wishing the weather was better, but don't let those thoughts fool you. They're self-sabotage tactics.
If the weather's not conducive to capturing the ideas, show up anyway. Do research, scope your scene, share a bag of chips with some of the townsfolk. When the weather's right again, you'll shoot some more, but you have to keep showing up to the page every day, ready to have fun and work hard.
There are a lot of philosophies about how to get the story down, but I personally agree with what Ann Patchett says in The Getaway Car (if you haven't read it, do. It's a quick read).
"Even if you’re writing a book that jumps around in time, has ten points of view, and is chest-deep in flashbacks, do your best to write it in the order in which it will be read, because it will make the writing, and the later editing, incalculably easier."
And when you get to the end? Well, it doesn't always happen, but, every once in a while, when the stars align and you're patient and persistent, the right ending comes rumbling to the page like a perfectly-timed bus, arriving on the scene exactly when you need it. Your job is to be there, dive into place, and hit "record."
Finally, when it's done, when you're happy with your work, it's time to ship it (don't skip that link. Read it. It's gold). Don't hold onto it. Get it out there. Submit it, pitch it, query, blog, whatever. Just ship it. Sure, it might end up lost in the slushpile, but that doesn't matter. Keep shipping. And while you're waiting, hit the slopes again. This is fun, remember?
Sure, you'll knuckle a few jumps along the way. You'll lose your poles, snap your skis, end up splayed out on the hill, your gear scattered around you, riders on the lift shouting "YARD SALE!" But keep going. It's the only way you'll get to that bus. And, as Auclair said, by putting in that extra effort, that's how you'll end up doing great things.
Now, suit up, get out there, and hit those slopes! I'll see you après ski in the lodge for hot cocoa and cookies.
Sherpas Cinema's All.I.Can., featuring the musical track Dance Yrself Clean by LCD Soundsystem, won Best Feature-Length Mountain Film at the Banff Mountain Film Festival, 2011, Best Documentary and Most Innovative Visual FX at the International Freeski Film Festival, 2011, "Best Film of the Year" at the Danish Adventure Film Festival 2011. "Best Film of 2011" and "Best Cinematography" at the Festival International du Film de Freeride in St. Lary, France, "Best Ski Film" and "People's Choice" at the Fernie Ski and Board Film Festival, "Best Ski Film" from Adventure Film 2011 in Boulder, Colorado and "Best Cinematography" by the Fan Favorites Awards on ESPN.com.