The cast and crew of “Blue Film” were popping the champagne when disaster struck. The microbudget drama had just wrapped its final shot, managing to complete the controversial story of a cam boy and his pedophile client in 11 days and for just $45,000. That’s when Bijan Kazerooni, one of the film‘s producers, was called over to talk to cinematographer Ryan Jackson-Healy in his car.
“He is sitting there white-knuckling the steering wheel, and he goes, ‘We lost the day,'” Kazerooni remembered.
The production’s hard drive had failed, meaning they lost all the footage they had shot that day, including a wrenching monologue performed by Reed Birney, the film’s star. After taking a breath, Youmans cobbled together the money for an additional day of photography.
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“We had to call everybody back for that 12th day, and because it’s last minute, not all of our crew was available, so we had to find new people, and we had to extend the actors’ hotels for a day, and change the flights,” Kazerooni said. “That’s the thing that really kicks your ass on these tiny budgets, because I can negotiate with a camera shop about pricing all day long. I can’t negotiate with Delta Airlines.”
In the end, the filmmakers shot “Blue Film” for $50,000 and spent an additional $50,000 on post-production. Much of the money came from indie maverick Mark Duplass, who challenged the producers and writer/director Elliott Tuttle to make a film on that shoestring budget.
“You can’t do half a day on production on a union shoot for $50,000,” Kazerooni said. “You can’t make a short film for $50,000 anymore. I’ve produced short films since ‘Blue Film’ that have cost more than our entire production budget.”
“Blue Film” hit that target because Tuttle purposely designed the movie to be as cost-efficient as possible. There are just two characters: Birney, who plays a john with a dark secret, and Kieron Moore, who stars as a fetish camboy who agrees to spend the night. Most of the film, meanwhile, was shot in one location: a Hancock Park house owned by the friend of producer Waylon Sall. It cost the production $1,000 to rent for the month.
“They had just moved out of their home, and the new tenant hadn’t moved in yet, so I was able to get a favorable deal,” Sall said. “We shot there for pennies and were able to dress it like a vacant Hollywood Airbnb.”
The actors worked for scale, which also kept costs to a minimum. But the production made a point of putting backend participation into contracts. Of course, assembling the cast had its challenges. Birney, a Tony Award winner with memorable turns on screen in “Mass” and “The Menu,” knew Adam Kersh, a producer and manager with indie ties. But finding the right actor to play Aaron Eagle, the sex worker who captivates Birney’s character, took some maneuvering.
“It was harder to attach a casting director because of the content of the movie than it was to attach Reed,” Kersh said. “We had a lot of passes. They were all afraid of it.”
Fortunately, Eleanor Hendricks, whose credits include “Stand Clear of the Closing Doors,” signed on, which helped legitimize the production. She discovered Moore, an English actor who appeared in “Boots” and “Vampire Academy.”
“Blue Film” also benefited from other experienced hands, including Jackson-Healy, who served as cinematographer on “Mass,” and editor Zach Clark (“Our Son”). It also benefited from several volunteer PAs.
“My housemates would come with me at two a.m. to load out and load in,” admits Kazerooni.
Though Birney and Moore were used to more creature comforts, they embraced the micro-budget atmosphere.
“Both of our talent are nonlocal, so flying them out and putting them up for a little over 20 days, from a budget standpoint, was awful,” Youmans said. “But they were very patient with me when I called them and proposed certain flights that were maybe not the class they would have wanted. What made everything possible was a willingness from our cast and from our crew to tolerate indie film conditions and to not balk at things.”
And the actors were willing to suffer for their art. Moore, for instance, spends the second half of the film shirtless after allowing Birney’s character to shave his chest.
“We had to shoot everything with him with hair, then get the hair off,” Sall said. “Kieron didn’t want to be shaved. He wanted to get waxed. So, we have one night before a two-day break. We finish shooting and call a waxing place to stay open late for us, so we can take Kieron straight from set to the salon. Kieron had a lot of hair. He’s British. He’s pale. He was in a lot of pain. He pushed himself to the limit. I was there with him. He was screaming that he wanted to kill me, but you know the results are undeniable. It gave him a natural, razor-burn look. I wish there were a less painful alternative, but it worked.”
Kersh is a veteran who produced the indie hit “Between the Temples,” but the rest of the production team was relatively new to features.
“We were all figuring out how to make a tiny, tiny movie together,” said Will Youmans, one of the producers. “But it was great to find a group of people who wanted to do something together and who just decided to make it happen.”
Tuttle acknowledges the film was a no-frills affair, but credits the producers with letting him focus on putting the story on screen without getting consumed by the cost of everything.
“I was never worried about anything production-wise — not once,” Tuttle said. “It seems insane to think about making a movie for that number in that amount of days. But because of my team, I didn’t have to think about the logistical nightmare of making an indie film. I just got to be creatively fulfilled.”
However, even after the film came in on budget, finding a distributor for the hot-button project wasn’t easy. Sundance, SXSW, and other major festivals all passed after screening the movie. Finally, the Edinburgh Festival stepped up and accepted the film. That’s when critics embraced the picture, raising its profile.
“Premiering in Scotland changed everything,” Kersh said.
Eventually, Obscured Releasing, a newcomer to the distribution scene, bought the film’s U.S. rights and released it in theaters last summer. It earned $144,371 in limited release and found a wider audience when it premiered on demand. Kersh says the film is poised to recoup its initial investment and distribution expenses. It is expected to turn a profit. “Blue Film” has also secured distribution in international markets, including the U.K., Germany, and Latin America. Despite some setbacks, the producers believe that the film is more successful than a film about a camboy and a pedophile could have ever hoped to be.
“I get lots of calls from people being like, ‘How do I get money for my film? How do I pull off something like this?'” said Kazerooni. “And the answer is like, you get money for your movie the way you get money for anything in your life, which is any way you can. There’s no magic to it.”