Feature
Aaand, action!
by Olivia Kember
A man who isn’t the guy you think he is has shot a movie that isn’t what it appears to be.
Mark Prebble has made a movie. This is not the bureaucrat famous for complaining that Christine Rankin exposed “an embarrassingly large amount of breast”. For this Mark Prebble, cleavage goes with the job: the 27-year-old film geek and aspiring auteur fulfils his stereotype by working in a videostore. He and one of our highest-paid public servants have, however, been mistaken for each other. There’s a review of a film he acted in that attributes his role to “Mark Prebble (head of the Prime Minister’s office)”.
So the man knows what’s in a name. Which raises the question – is he wise to call his movie, an anti-romantic comedy mockumentary that is still unfinished after seven years, Futile Attraction?
Prebble looks slightly injured. What if it’s too appropriate? “It will definitely get finished.” It’s written, shot, roughly edited. All he needs now is $25,000 for high-grade editing and the soundtrack. Besides, he says, Futile Attraction is a working title. Your suggestions are welcomed, as is your cash; send both to www.makemarksmovie.com. This website is his latest attempt to solicit assistance.
It began with a Christmas present. In 1997, Prebble received Robert Rodriguez’s book about low-budget film-making, Rebel Without a Crew. He started the script on Boxing Day. Where Rodriguez was low-budget – he financed El Mariachi by selling himself to a medical research clinic – Prebble and co-writer Ben Reid were no-budget, similar fundraising methods being ineffective (no demand for human guinea-pigs here) or illegal (organ-selling), or, in the case of sperm-donation, too tricky. Prebble: “Is my film worth a child?” The Film Commission didn’t think it was worth anything and rejected his funding applications.
Futile Attraction – about two incompat-ible people forced together by a TV crew needing a pair of lovers – was designed for such knockbacks. Audiences are more ready to accept video for a low-tech documentary, and they got the gear free or cheap through connections built up from Prebble’s time as a TV cameraman.
But his best resource was the kindness of strangers, who worked for free. The lead actress was a university mate, Danielle Mason. Prebble scored cameos from comedians Jemaine Clements of comedy acts Flight of the Conchords and the Humourbeasts, and fellow Humourbeast Taika Cohen. Just a few weeks ago, he added a vocal cameo from the other Conchord, Bret McKenzie.
If the film’s name is lame, the marketing is brilliant. Since January, makemarks-movie.com has attracted visitors from England to Estonia. Each week, about 50 send offers of help – money, or more esoteric aid: a Seattle band to accompany the trailer, a fund-raising poetry night, poster design. Terry Mross (from Dazed and Confused) sent him advice. Wannabes send him their film scripts.
Many started by Googling “how to become a producer”. Out of 2,350,000 sites, Prebble’s website comes fifth. Here’s how you become an assistant producer of Futile Attraction: give Prebble $US5000. Becoming executive producer costs the full $25,000. For this, you get a credit at the end of the movie and a professional profile page in the Internet Movie Database. That the database refuses to accept Futile Attraction is, Prebble says, only a temporary hitch.
He has tapped into networks of global geeks, indie film-makers and sweaty teenage fans of Michelle Ang – former face of McDonald’s Young Entertainers, now international star. Admittedly, she’s virtually unknown at home, but offshore watchers of The Tribe, Xena: Warrior Princess and Neighbours have made sites paying her homage. They don’t have money, but they do have a powerful web presence; and they’re desperate to see Ang in a movie. Survivor fans, perhaps a more ironic bunch than previously supposed, have linked to Prebble’s site because Futile Attraction satirises reality TV.
Famously, The Blair Witch Project has done the Internet thing already. Made on the cheap by film-school graduates, it grossed $US150 million in 1999, most of which was attributed to the traffic generated by www.blairwitchproject.com. Copycat campaigns never quite took off, though, because the hype disguised $20 million worth of traditional advertising.
Prebble’s campaign has a fundamental difference. His appeals for help are building a potential audience who have invested something of themselves in the process. From the cousin who donated 70 cents to the Hertfordshire lad who gets the honour of being titled UK publicist, this uncompleted, unseen movie has gathered a kind of congregation believing in its success. So heart-warming. Here’s hoping the final cut is worth it.
