There’s an argument amongst filmmakers that a film degree isn’t “worth it:” a student could use the money they would otherwise spend on tuition to rent film equipment and teach themselves how to use it. This argument makes some sense but presupposes that a film education’s worth lies in equipment access and technical training.
I entered film school in pursuit of technical skills, but my seven years of study and five years of teaching have shown me the greater value of exposure to a group of peers and collaborators, immersion in critical discussions about film and art, and the expectation of a continuous creative practice. I couldn’t have sought those things out on my own because I didn’t know I needed them.
It’s relatively easy to teach someone how to make a movie, but a filmmaker’s understanding of why they make their art is much more meaningful. In my classes, I strive to balance the technical instruction students expect and the critical context they may not know they need. Often that context is found by peeling apart layers of subtext and metatext that define a film’s artistic and social significance. I urge my students to consider what films are about: what they’re trying to say, and what they might accidentally be saying without meaning to. We can learn a lot by asking these questions of our work, and by applying the same criticality to the films we screen in class, we can understand them in entirely new ways.
Cinema is steeped in the same biases that shape our society. I’m uncomfortable with the overwhelmingly white‑, straight‑, male-ness of the cinematic canon and I do my best to screen work by constituents of various minorities, but the fact remains that most successful filmmakers (in Hollywood, but also in independent and avant-garde film) are a distinctly homogenous bunch. This is something students can and should contend with in class, and it introduces a host of questions. How should we appreciate important and innovative artwork made at the expense of artists who were systematically silenced by institutional discrimination? Are the aesthetic preferences of the contemporary film industry and audience inherently prejudiced against certain identities?
Finding value in structured critique
Critiques are an imperfect practice, but also an essential step in the creative process. Offering and receiving constructive critique is perhaps the most important foundational element of any creative education. Most incoming students are uncomfortable participating in open-ended critique sessions, so I encourage the use of a framework—a simple procedure to facilitate discussion that doesn’t rely on a complex set of rules.
With few exceptions, a work of art must stand on its own without the artist intervening to explain their intentions or their process. To this end, the Critical Friends Group model is a useful starting point. In my simplified implementation, students present their work to the class without prologue, apology, or explanation, then listen while the class discusses the work as they encountered it—things they liked, questions they had, ways the piece could be improved—and only at the end of the critique does the presenter directly engage with the group, usually to ask and answer clarifying questions. This approach ensures that nobody feels the critique is a referendum on the presenting student, and it encourages taciturn (or sleepy) critique groups to grapple directly with the work in greater detail.
The possibilities of radical collaboration
Much of my research relates to what I call “radical collaboration,” an abject dedication to the process of making work jointly with other artists, and an exuberant rejection of any claim to individual authorship of that work. My own forays into radical collaboration allow me to escape my customary practice and contribute to work drastically different from the work I usually make. Such opportunities can be particularly beneficial in encouraging more adventurous work from students who are still establishing their own creative identities but may also feel constrained by work they’ve made in the past. I’ve done some collaborative exercises in recent courses (they tend to make for amusing writing games), but I hope to further expand on these principles and introduce more ambitious collaborative processes into my courses.