Doing some research for my current screenplay, I just came upon Time Flies by Frida Kahlo, 1929, painted 3 years after my grandmother was born…
I remember when I was a child time didn’t fly. In fact it went by really slowly. All I wanted was to be an adult. I though 30 was old and that by 40 you were really old. Of course I have revised that concept from my pre-two-digit-life-years and feel like 30 is still pretty young and 40 is when you are really in control. You can still look fab at 50 (thanks Madonna) and old really only starts at the age of 70.
Last month I visited my 86-year-old grandmother who told me a story that ended with: it was only 10 years ago or so, not long at all. As a child I would’ve thought, oh my gosh, 10 years? That’s a decade. That’s like an eternity.
Now I think that 10 years is not enough, not long at all. Especially when you think of it in filmmaking years. Unless you are Woody Allen, popping a film a year, because you don’t have any problems financing 15M and finding A-list cast members who work for very little pay, than you are pretty much in the rest of us box, which means, you need a good 3-5 years to go from concept to premiere. Even in studio-land you need time to pitch, develop, finance, shoot, post and premiere a film. Which means that in the span of 10 years you may get about 2 to 3 films made, as a director, or creative team, if you are lucky. So in that sense, 10 years is really a short time.
Hoping to double that number in produced screenplays.
Dammit. Time does fly.
My grandmother knows little about the filmmaking business, but she sure knows how to commensurate time.