Film School Read Free Page A

honor it is to have us. We hear our program is one of the most selective in all of academia. More selective than Harvard Law School. More selective than all medical schools. We all nod and feel very lucky .
    We then hear lots of dos and don’ts from other faculty. Mostly they’re don’ts. Don’t film on the edge of tall buildings. Don’t use real guns. Don’t use anything that even looks remotely like a gun without first talking to your instructors. Don’t fall asleep behind the wheel and crash into a tree.
    One of the instructors tells a story about a former grad student that makes the room go quiet: the student had been a medical doctor prior to applying to USC’s film school as a production student. Going to the first year of film school, he reportedly said, was harder than anything he had to do in medical school or residency.
    I feel like we’re grade school campers gathered around a fire, hearing horror stories from the camp counselors. There was a kid who tried to sneak away from his cabin one night a few years ago. Nothing was ever found but a piece of his shirt. A bloody piece. He was an orphan, so he didn’t have any parents who called the cops, and since the camp wanted to keep the story quiet, you never heard about it. Until now . . . 
    Apocryphal or not, the doctor-who-came-to-film school story gets my attention—I witnessed my wife go through medical school. But I’m skeptical. I doubt making films and writing stories can be as hard as dissecting a cadaver or passing biochemistry. Finally, a female instructor takes the podium and asks us to introduce ourselves. I smile. Perfect . I’ve got my speech all ready. Then she says, “Let’s keep it short. Just tell us your name, where you went to college, and what your degree was.”
    I think, What about my awesome speech?
    She points to a student in the far back corner. “Why don’t you start?”
    He gets up, nervous. It’s hard to hear him from where I’m sitting.
    â€œAhhh, hi, my name is (mumble) and I went to Yale. I graduated two years ago with a major in (mumble). I was going to go to law school but decided on this instead. I’m really glad I did. I look forward to working with you all.”
    He sits down. The next person gets ups. She’s from UCLA. Then there’s a guy from Harvard. A Japanese guy who struggles with English. Then a petite Asian woman introduces herself, coughing. She apologizes, says she’s sick, and is from Wisconsin. She majored in film production. It sounds like she said her name was Fee Fee . Did I hear it right? Did she really say Fee Fee ?
    Soon afterward, a thin guy with a beard stands up to introduce himself. He’s nervous and very emotional. He’s got a heavy New York accent and he’s intensely earnest. In a wavering voice, he explains he applied several times to USC but had been rejected each time. Finally, he says, he got in. He says he is so grateful to be here. He clasps his hands together like he is a serf thanking a king for giving him a little extra grain to survive the winter. He seems ready to burst into tears. He’s really letting his inner self out for all to see.
    The introductions come closer. I’m getting nervous. I wonder if maybe I should do my speech. That would show some cojones .
    The man next to me with the mop of hair stands up. He looks like a stunt double for Roberto Benigni, the Italian actor/director of LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL. And he sounds like Benigni! He explains that when he flew in from Rome, the airline lost his bags so he hasn’t changed his clothes in days and he just retrieved his luggage from LAX. That explains the slight wave of body odor that wafted my way when he sat down. He tells some jokes in his lilting Italian accent. Everything he says sounds so comic! The class laughs. He, too, expresses his appreciation for being accepted at USC and says it was his dream to be