This week, the first volume of our Life Improvised series was released as a single anthology on Tubi. It consists of ten episodes of what began as standalone micro-shorts about the moments that make up human interactions and relationships. It is 49 minutes long and the episodes are grouped by themes: loneliness, a first date, betrayal, and change.

When we initially began filming these small short films three years ago, we had no thoughts of creating an anthology, or to even make enough episodes that such a thing was possible. For us, it was a way to explore small ideas between the bigger projects we do, to work with new actors, to experiment, even shoot in new locations. We released them on YouTube and that was that.

But releasing an anthology of Life Improvised made me pause and reflect on the power of time and consistency in filmmaking. If you do this long enough, if you create new content often enough, over time you will have a career as a filmmaker.

As a multi-hyphenate creative within a tiny team, juggling multiple projects at various stages of production, my To-Do lists can quickly become overwhelming. The daily pressure, the demands of film after film needing my attention, can send me into a pit of self-pity, anxiety, and procrastination.

I fell into that pit this month. Checking emails first thing in the morning, last thing at night, stressing if things were not going to plan or tasks were not completed as quickly as I wanted, led to going to sleep with a racing heart, a self-induced state of constant pressure.

But with the support of meditation, yoga, and Ivan constantly reminding me to slow down and switch off, I was able to work through the pressure before it crushed me.

In 2019 we jumped into developing our biggest feature film ever, To Hold the Moon, a LGBTQ drama set in Malta budgeted at €225,000. It takes two characters established in Friends, Foes & Fireworks, aspiring actors Summer and Lucinda, and explores their relationship two years later. Lucinda is dealing with new found fame as an actor and sexual abuse in the industry while Summer is ignored by the same industry and struggling to find work. Afraid their relationship is stagnating, Summer follows Lucinda to a film shoot in Malta and attempts to revitalize their relationship, but both women need to face harsh truths about their love and life.

We filmed a concept teaser with Whitney Duff and Asleen Mauthoor while we were visiting Melbourne that year, created a poster for the production, then went back to Malta with pitch materials in hand, all set to find funding for the film and go into production ASAP.

In 2022 we have been paying attention to an aspect of film distribution we have largely ignored for several years beforehand: film festivals.

We have had rejections of course. With many festivals receiving thousands of entries, there will always be rejections. But we have also found some success. Machination has picked up several awards at film festivals for Acting, Directing, and Sound Design. Cats of Malta has been selected for the Melbourne Documentary Film Festival, New York Cat Festival, and other festivals we cannot reveal quite yet. Our latest Life Improvised film, The Dance, screened at Kinemastik International Short Film Festival in Malta last night.

But this handful of success has come at a cost of almost $1000USD so far in festival submission fees. Could this money have been better spent elsewhere? Like running Facebook ads for the release of Machination? Have we gotten enough return for our funds? In short: are film festivals worth the cost and effort?

The artist Vincent Van Gogh was a fan of community. In 1888 he rented four rooms within the Yellow House in Arles, France, and worked for months to convert and furnish these rooms into a studio, aiming to build a space where fellow artists could live and work together.

The idea of a community is appealing, even to the weirdos and introverts amongst us. Although I refer to artists, it’s long been proven that people, no matter their hobbies, professions, beliefs or what-not, love feeling like they belong. We like sharing ideas and talking about our passions with like-minded peers.

On May 20th, 2022, we released our latest feature film Machination via Vimeo On Demand. We knew this would be our release date since early April. We contacted a PR agency, October Coast, to premiere our trailer, spread the news about the release, garner interviews and reviews for the film, and basically help launch Machination. So far, so typical, right?

Not necessarily. The trend these days seems to be to release micro-budget films via a small distributor or a marketplace like FilmHub, wait for platforms like Amazon or Tubi to pick-up the film and randomly begin streaming it, and only then begin promoting the film. The idea is to release “everywhere all at once” so viewers have choices where to watch the film. They can also watch it immediately, instead of waiting for a particular date.

It is the instant gratification release, designed for an audience who have infinite entertainment options, and no patience to wait for your micro-budget film.

I have been in Melbourne longer than intended. What was initially only meant to be a visit for a month or so, has stretched into a stay over four months as I’ve helped my mum move into a retirement village and sell the family home. Cleaning out the house has taken me for a trip down memory lane as I’ve discovered props, pictures, and DVDs from my first ever film: Shades of the Soul.

Hardly a soul has seen the film. Pun intended. I made it back in 2006 together with my friend Heath Novkovic, co-writing and co-directing. It is actually a feature film, 87 minutes long. I also played the antagonist, Leviticus, a military commander leading an expedition in the jungle when he is attacked and corrupted by a demon. He puts on a mask (we knew so little about copyright the mask in question is a replica from the band Slipknot) and begins gruesomely killing his own unit one by one, until the final confrontation with the lead protagonists and lovers Alexandra ‘Ice’ Peterson and Marcus ‘Dracon’ Maitlin. It was typical slasher fare with a touch of occult, only more poorly done than most, due to our total lack of experience and budget.

It’s such an amateurish film that it was never released, and I don’t even count it in my filmography. We were a bunch of dreamers running around the ‘jungles’ of Brimbank Park with camcorders, playing at filmmakers. But as I sat down and watched the film for the first time in many, many years, inspired by the nostalgia this trip to Melbourne instigated, I realized something: there is freedom in naivety.

Last week I sent off a private screener of Cats of Malta to our Kickstarter backers. The next day I received a reply from an actor/filmmaker I knew from my past life working out of Studio 106 in St Kilda. Katrina asked me about our improvised process of filmmaking, how we make films, and if she could see an example of my favorite improvised NPG film.

This request got me thinking and sent me down a rabbit hole of reminiscing about our improvised work and how we started producing and shooting films using this unique method. All this thinking led me to Tubi TV and getting lost within the first twenty minutes of Friends, Foes & Fireworks – the first improvised film Ivan and I produced and directed, plus shot in a single night.

Within the body of the email reply to Katrina I pasted the Tubi TV link to Friends, Foes & Fireworks and filled the rest of the blank space with our improvisation inspirations, directors and films we admire – one of which is Mike Leigh. His name led me to thinking about the whole improvisation journey and business transition which NPG has gone through since making Friends, Foes & Fireworks in 2017. Again this led to yet another fond memory – the five days Ivan and I spent in Basel during 2019 taking part in the Character Based Improvisation (CBI) workshop Robert Marchand teaches.

I also mentioned the CBI workshop to Katrina, then I hit ‘send’. Sitting at my desk I realized it's been a few years since Basel, and that realization brought on some wonderful memories.

Good, Fast, Cheap. Pick only two.

How often have you heard this adage? Maybe you have even said it yourself, especially if you have worked in the corporate video world and have dealt with clients who expect blockbusters on b-level budgets.

It is a popular and often hilarious meme, and an educational Venn diagram illustrating a reality check. If you want something fast and cheap, it won’t be good. If you want something cheap and good, it can’t be fast. Sure, you can create a great video or film with little money, but the trade off for not spending big is you’ll need to spend a lot of time and patience to achieve greatness.

But I am here to tell you that good, fast, and cheap is indeed possible in filmmaking. As micro-budget filmmakers, if we were to believe otherwise, we would be crippled with doubt before we even attempted to make a film.