What's in a Name?

Recently, a friend who's a communications faculty member at the state college in the city invited me as panelist to a discussion on documentary filmmaking. Several weeks prior, I was with a group of local film hobbyists who were trying to figure out sources of funds for their intended projects. On these occasions, I have become aware of how commonplace filmmaking has become and how the line of distinction between real filmmakers and the ordinary film buffs has blurred.

It seems so easy for anybody nowadays to claim being a filmmaker. Even a pure neophyte wants to be identified in the league of the true professionals. It seems many don't understand that simply owning a movie camera-which has become increasingly easy these days-does not automatically make one a filmmaker. Just as owning a typewriter does not make one an instant writer.

A filmmaker is one who has already accumulated a dependable stock of know-how in the craft, either by formal schooling or self-study or both. Filmmaking, as in all the arts, is always evolving. It is open for experimentation, lots of it. But when a professional filmmaker experiments, it is because he wants to establish his own unique style. He is not necessarily lacking in know-how-he is, in fact, trying to build on solid fundamental skills.

It's different in the case of a starting hobbyist-experimenting is his way of learning the craft, by trial and error. He lacks awareness of certain options, creative or technical. It may be said that the hobbyist is still making his ropes, while the professional filmmaker is already trying to find other uses for his.

Filmmaking, open as it is to new ideas, is not an absolute, free art. The fact that the filmmaker creates his art for an audience poses restrictions on him. The popular state of awareness or understanding about the language of the movies has to be taken into consideration. Filmmaking has certain established conventions.

A film, or any work of art for that matter, must stand on its own merits. The artist will not always be there to explain his work to his audience. Again, the work of art must conform to the prevailing mindset of its intended audience. Art is created for an audience. As such, it is not purely for the artist's self-gratification.

All experimentations must be done on the platform of the audience's capability to appreciate. For instance, a slow dissolve between scenes is generally understood as suggesting a lapse of time. Applied in other ways, only the experimenter may know what his new technique is supposed to mean, leaving everybody else confused.

Strictly speaking, anyone who makes, or attempts to make, a film is a filmmaker. But there has already developed a certain implication to the word. It has come to refer to a professional with whom the discipline of making movies has become almost second nature. It definitely does not belong to one who trains his video camera somewhere and does not even know what his shot is about.

Unduly assuming the title of filmmaker might give the learning film novice airs in the head, thus clouding his earnest desire to have a grasp of the established conventions of the craft. One who has patience will learn, the one who is in a hurry will feign. It's not the name, per se-it's what the name represents.

Not even the length of a person's involvement in the craft can automatically qualify him as a filmmaker. Although one would probably not stay long in anything he does badly at. Longevity is definitely not an assurance of quality. Even a long-time filmmaking buff can go on creating rubbish so long as he has the resources to support his folly. Only a certain degree of competence, not number of years or intensity of interest in the craft, can qualify one as a true filmmaker.

Hobbyist, enthusiast, novice, professional-what's the difference? There's a lot or there's none, depending on one's standards. An earnest hobbyist can surely do better than a bogus professional, in much the same way that a conscientious student can eventually outlearn a lazy mentor.

Some prefer the solid weight of a small stone over the big size of an empty balloon. Others find not much difference in simply looking like somebody and in actually being somebody. They mistake the look of the gift-wrapping for the actual value of the gift. What's in a name? Oh, well. Why would you be called John if you're actually Harry?