I guess somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew it could never last. I wanted to make art films. But it was just a matter of time before the realities of life intruded. I am thirty-two now. Most of the people I met in the independent film world are long gone. They are movie stars or cable directors or waiters or teachers. I don’t know them anymore. It was raining and it was hot on the river. I was crashing on my friend’s couch. Me and my fiancé had just split up and I was having a nervous breakdown. In […]
by Noah Buschel on Jan 14, 2011I’m at the Edinburgh Film Festival, jetlagged bad, and I’m asked for emerging filmmaker advice by some kid. He says, in particular, he wants to know about making art films and being a writer/director. Oh boy. I try to find something to say, but it’s disingenuous and the kid knows it. I go back to the hotel room and roll around in the bed, can’t sleep. The only thing on the T.V. is Michael Jackson’s body bag. I go to the window and look at the ancient castle and the ancient fog and I think about what I would tell […]
by Noah Buschel on Nov 17, 2009