CURRENT
 
On the Sidewalks with Ed Burns

By David Geffner
Photos by John Clifford

Director Ed Burns.
Ed Burns is a really nice guy. I note this, for the record, because being a nice guy-- likable, funny, self-deprecating-- has been a staple of Burns' acting performances in all of the indie films he's directed, while often raising the hairs on many a critic's neck. The knock on the young Queens-born filmmaker, whose 1995 Sundance hit The Brothers McMullen rocketed him to indie stardom, is that his films are just too amiable to satisfy the independent media. The fact that Burns' newest low-budget effort, Sidewalks of New York, snagged the prestigious opening-night slot for the 2001 IFP/West Los Angeles Film Festival only supplied more fuel for his detractors.

Gracious and articulate in his introductory comments, the 33-year-old Burns used the LAFF (formerly LAIFF) forum to put in a word for the New York crews that have stood beside him in this, his fourth indie feature. "This film couldn't have been made without the New York unions," Burns told the sold-out opening-night audience. "They're all friends of mine, who are good people willing to work at a price to keep production inside New York City. They're committed to doing good work in the United States, and I think we should all be committed to that."

Perhaps it's only film critics who insist nice guys finish last. But only moments after Burns walked off stage, the DGA was awash with laughter: although shot in the blink of an eye --sixteen and a half days-- Sidewalks of New York spins a humorous web about the disheveled love lives of Burns' fellow New Yorkers. By the time the lights came on for the gala after-party, no one in the SRO audience seemed to care how "edgy" Ed Burns' movies are--they were too busy laughing at the film's memorable performances.

DGA Magazine caught up with Burns via phone in Seattle, where he's acting in the studio-financed Life, or Something Like It. This role comes hot on the heels of shooting yet another super low-budget New York story, which Burns wrote, starred in, and directed, entitled Ash Wednesday, now in post-production.

What's it feel like to premiere a new film in Los Angeles, in front of 550 independent film fans?
LAFF opening night was the first time I've ever seen a final version of the film, with a full mix, in front of an audience. That can, obviously, be very nerve-wracking. But it was a slot Paramount Classics, our distributor, was very interested in getting, and it meant a lot to me, as well. The first time I screened The Brothers McMullen was as a work-in-progress at the IFP market in New York. I've had a long history with the IFP organization so it was pretty exciting to premiere opening night.

Burns and Rosario Dawson in a scene from Sidewalks
You went out of your way in your introduction to thank the New York unions. Why was that important for you to mention in a festival filled with first-time directors who have never had any exposure to shooting with union crews?
A bunch of different reasons. My dad was a cop in New York for a long time, my uncle was vice president of the PBA, the policeman's union in New York--most working-class Irish Catholics in New York, like myself, come from union families. That was one part of it. The bigger aspect is that once I started making films in New York, I made a lot of friends with people on my crews. The complaints I kept hearing from them were about all the jobs going up to Canada--I'm doing an acting job now that shoots three weeks in Seattle and the rest of the film is in Vancouver. Last summer I heard stories about eight Hollywood films being shot in Prague. I know this is all done to save money, and I understand that. However, the part that is unfair is that the actors, the director, the producer, the writer, the studio head--they all still get paid when production goes abroad. It's the crew guy who gets screwed. He or she is the part of the team that is willing to work at half or three-quarter scale compared to the U.S. rate. I have assistant director friends who are being forced to consider waiting tables to make their mortgages because of all the work leaving the country. It's really unfair.

So shooting low budget in New York City, as opposed to say Toronto, is your way of giving something back?
I suppose you could say that. But I'm not sure I'm making a difference. The budget for Sidewalks of New York was under $1 million and my crew was working an East Coast Council Agreement. We couldn't afford a production designer. Stanley Tucci's car in the film is my car. Most of the actors wore their own wardrobe. We had one woman doing all hair and makeup. The reason I did it so cheaply was to maintain control over the film, and work with my friends, who are better and faster than any of the crews working out of the country.

People might be surprised to hear that Ed Burns needs to make his movies at such a low price, given your recent fame.
Oh sure. They think, "he was in Saving Private Ryan; he can just go get as much money as he wants and make a movie without any interference." Had I proposed this film to any studio, they would never have let me shoot it all handheld and stayed away. Never.

Burns preps actor Dennis Farina for a scene.
So you shot it like a documentary on a very tight schedule?
Yes. Listen, I know the definition of independent film is a little gray right now. But with Sidewalks of New York I really wanted to make a completely independent film. To some people that means without a studio involved. To others it means a tiny budget with your own financing. Some people say it has to be like Spike or Woody's films--where the writer/director has final cut. No one knows what an independent film is today. But I knew I wanted to make a film without any interference. I didn't want someone from a studio, or a production company, telling me who I should cast, what type of music I should use, or whether I should change the title.

The way you worked on The Brothers McMullen.
Exactly. And the only way to pull together the kind of cast I did, who all worked for SAG scale by the way, was to shoot an extremely accelerated schedule. Dennis Farina worked one day. He flew into New York, wore all his own clothes, and was amazing. Heather Graham worked four days. I've done acting jobs with the big-studio machine, and in my opinion, a lot of money and time is burned unnecessarily.

As a director, what limitations do you have shooting so quickly, and all handheld?
I knew I couldn't do traditional coverage. I had to work in mostly two-shots and be very fluid with the blocking--just follow the actors around. I don't normally do many takes--two to three at the most often gets the scene for me, so that wasn't a big difference. The key was hiring great actors who were able to find their characters without needing a lot of coverage or added takes. I swear to you the most direction I gave was: "Can we just speed it up a little bit?" I never thought directing like that was possible, but when you have that kind of cast, you'd be foolish to get in their way.

Speaking of directing, you're in elite company as far as writing, directing and starring in your own films. Woody Allen, Billy Bob Thornton and Spike Lee come to mind. Which job suits Ed Burns, if he were forced to pick?
It would have to be writing, for a number of reasons. It's the only part of the filmmaking process that isn't collaborative. I can sit down at my computer and at the end of a couple of months I've got something I'm passionate about. When I was in college I was an English major and I really thought I would become a novelist. That was my love. I became a director mostly because I did not want to surrender control over what I had written. As for the acting, it was a fluke--I couldn't pay anybody on The Brothers McMullen, so I figured that if I cast myself I knew I had at least one actor in the cast guaranteed to show up!

What about the other actors in The Brothers McMullen?
They were all working as waiters, and I had to rewrite the script according to when they had open shifts away from their restaurants. But to get back to your question about picking on discipline--I could be very happy spending the rest of my life in a room, writing.

There's a speech by your character in the film that talks about "real" New Yorkers as being from the outer boroughs. How accurately does this reflect your own experience as an independent director?
A lot of people ask me how autobiographical is the work I do, and that's the one scene where a little bit more of me bleeds into the script. One of my grandfathers was a sandhog and died of emphysema. I am a bridge-and-tunnel kid who grew up believing the rich Manhattan guys were full of shit. It has less to do with me being a New York filmmaker and more about me giving props to the culture I grew up in --working-class people who get on the bus or subway every day and ride into Manhattan to make their living. To me those are the real New Yorkers.

Why the title Sidewalks of New York? A good part of the film takes place inside diners or apartments.
The movie is about connections. People searching for romantic connections. And if you think about it, the sidewalk is what connects New Yorkers. You walk out of your apartment to the deli and you'll pass 200 people in five blocks--your life can change 200 times on that sidewalk. The suburbs don't really offer that, and not a lot of other American cities do either.

Many so-called fake documentaries these days reveal the interviewer or the purpose behind the questions. Your film never showed us who was behind the Q&A scenes.
The idea of shooting this as a documentary came out of the production side. When I was doing Private Ryan, we shot entirely handheld and available light. We were scheduled to shoot 66 days and we wrapped in 58. What I saw in working with Steven was how quickly and cost-efficiently he was able to work. Shooting handheld, Steven would do a few takes of the scene with us talking about death, then a few more with us talking about God, then a third go through with us talking about gambling. In the editing room, he'd combine bits and pieces of all the different takes. After I saw him work this way I said to myself: it's faster, it's more cost-efficient, and you can let the actors improvise. So here I am, a director who works with much smaller budgets than Steven Spielberg. There must be a way to use the techniques I saw him use on Private Ryan to cut my budget in half, or even more. Using the documentary format was more about style and budget than content.

Heather Graham and Stanley Tucci
in a scene from
Sidewalks of New York.
So how do you ensure you capture that magic on the set?
I trust my DP, I trust my actors, I trust myself. When I'm in a scene I have a stand-in who hits all my marks and we go through the blocking with me checking the compositions. Even when we're going handheld. A lot of times it will be slightly different than what I imagined, but with a good DP those differences are pleasant surprises. Listen, I'm not like a lot of new Hollywood guys in that I'm more a writer and storyteller than a visual painter. The Brothers McMullen was shot on re-canned 16mm film that looked like shit. But the story was engaging so people came to see it.

So you look more to "old school" Hollywood for inspiration?
Definitely. Just go look at films like Streetcar, On the Waterfront, Marty or The Last Picture Show, and you won't see cameras flying all over the place, or be dazzled by a music video or commercial sensibility. You'll see beautiful compositions and great photography, but mostly you'll remember the performances and the writing. I'll never look to a Diet Coke commercial or a music video to inspire my filmmaking style. Those films I mentioned inspired me to be a writer-director and I will always look to them as to how to tell a story. In my opinion, it's why a lot of films don't often engage me these days-- too many painters and not enough storytellers.


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