In order to introduce myself, I asked an old friend to interview me about my experiences writing and directing Addison’s Wall. Chris Ohlson has been my brother, collaborator and correspondent for over eight years and four continents. As a filmmaker in Austin, Texas, he has written and directed a prodigious number of genre defying short films, including The Meat Market, I Love You, and 11th & Congress.

Tell me about the origin of Addison’s Wall? Where does this story come from?

I believe it came from long walks I used to take through my neighborhood in Northeast Portland, OR. I’ve always been a daydreamer and walking is a very fitful type of meditation for me. Portland is often overcast, but the weather affects the colors and mood of the town in very cool ways. On one rainy night, I passed by a huge ramshackle house that was boarded up and abandoned. It looked haunted. The yard was very overgrown. I walked around the house and imagined a family with a young child moving into it, trying to fix it up, and that the young boy would discover that by writing on the walls of his room, he could make things happen in the outside world.

I salvaged the part of the story that interested me the most, how children create their own realities. I wanted to explore the dark side of that natural ability we all have as children to escape into our imaginations.

I honestly don’t remember much about writing the film, but it came out pretty fast. Originally, the character of Asper (Addison’s mother) was very traumatized, unable to deal with her son’s choice to retreat and not speak, and very passive about confronting him. I have to give full credit to my beautiful girlfriend Julie, who challenged me to write Asper better, as a strong woman who would stand up for her son’s choice and right to grieve in his own personal way.

Julie also solved one of the trickiest script problems, which was how Addison could write all over his bedroom walls without his mother finding out. In my early drafts, Addison was locking his bedroom door and writing on his walls outright, while his mother – lost in her own grief – remained too meek and emotionally damaged to intervene. Julie didn’t buy it. She said a woman whose husband had just killed himself would never allow her son to lock himself in his room. Instead, she said Addison should have a blanket hanging from the wall that he could draw beneath, that would hide his private world from his mom as she came in and out of his room. The blanket became central to the story and gave Addison a truly unique and separate world to disappear into.

What aspect of the filmmaking process did you find the most challenging? Why?

The hardest part was believing in myself. Believing that I could truly do it and that it was okay to be there, in charge of forty people and a lot of money, making a piece of art. This was my first BIG film, and at every turn I was pushing my own capacity and potential as a creative problem solver. We had people on our set who had worked with directors like Gus Van Sant, so I always felt the responsibility to be at my absolute best at every moment, to honor their choice to take a chance by working with a newcomer like me, who had no feature film track record.

Throughout its life, Addison’s Wall has consistently pushed me to work harder, have more empathy and be patient with myself in the process. My main motivation in making this film was to see if I could do it. I wanted to know if this dream of being a filmmaker was realistically worth all the effort I would put into it, and this was my way of testing myself. It continues to be the hardest creative thing I’ve ever done, but I was blessed with many incredibly generous and talented people who helped support and push with me.

Every independent film has dozens of war stories. Tell us one of yours.

You and others warned me early on what a slippery slope I was headed down by writing a script which revolved around a child actor in a role that was complex and emotionally challenging. I knew the success of the film depended completely on finding actors who could pull off not only the emotional highs and lows of their characters, but who had convincing mother-son chemistry.

I auditioned hundreds of kids. As we began to call a few of the more promising candidates back, some of the children asked to read the script to “prepare”. I thought this was very mature of them, but when the kids came in and started acting it out, it was all wrong. Once they were trying to behave a certain way, they lost what I responded to most, which was their natural instincts and reactions. They weren’t being kids, they were acting.

Then Colton Lasater showed up and blew us all away. I immediately knew he was the right choice and when I offered him the part, I told him I didn’t ever want him to read the script. And that was how we worked. He would show up on set, I would give him whatever small amount of context I felt he needed and he would nail it in a few takes, then go back upstairs to watch DVDs. And he was BRILLIANT. I felt lucky to have learned my lesson about not over-preparing him for the role, because he could understand the essence of being that child without intellectualizing it. Colton is also an exceptionally gifted and sensitive person. It wasn’t an accident that he got the part right. He was able to tap into rage, fear and sadness at a moment’s notice.

Complementing that was Ritah Parrish, who also blew us away in her audition. We watched her become Asper, making a desperate phone call to her mother. It was incredible to watch Ritah - who was flashing this contagious smile at us a few moments before - suddenly crying and shaking with an imaginary phone in her hand, basically ripping her guts out.

Ritah succeeded in making Asper a woman who was not a victim, but was trying desperately to contain her own grief for the sake of her son. It was a damn tough role, and I was always asking her to go to very difficult and dark emotional places, often six or seven times. I know it wasn’t easy for her, and in the end, Ritah’s performance is a real triumph. She shows us a woman who loves her son totally and is desperately trying to start over, at the expense of her own emotional needs. She managed to make Asper warm and gentle as well as nail the “big freak outs” where it all comes crashing down.

Collaboration. Addison's Wall is a big film, with a lot of big moments and elements. What sorts of things did other key creatives bring to the table?

First and foremost, all my collaborators brought their belief in the film. We had a great mix of seasoned pros working side by side with newbies like myself who were stepping up as department heads for the first time.

I was honored that the pros like our Gaffer Scott Walters, our Key Grip Brian “Coach” Fleskes and Best Boy Mathew May were willing to work with me. Those guys and their crews brought a feeling of calm, safety and experience to the set. I loved their ability to be calm within the maelstrom, to solve every technical problem creatively and efficiently. I was being supported by guys who helped make films like Elephant, Drugstore Cowboy and Mean Creek.

It would be impossible to highlight everyone’s contribution, but there were a lot of folks like Producer Ira Flowers, Costume Designer Julie Gallagher, Art Director Brian Neubauer, Craft Service Rachel Lipsey and Assistant Director Ben Lipsey who had never worked on a 35mm film set before. And they didn’t just fill holes, they stepped up and took on some of the largest logistical challenges of the entire film with no previous experience. Brian had to design and build a library maze (think the hedge maze in The Shining with books) in a school gymnasium. Julie had to coordinate changing 30 kids in classroom scenes back and forth between multiple outfits, as well as dress all our actors in clothes that would render well in black and white. Rachel ably managed keeping all of our myriad snack urges met, as well as caffeinating us each morning. And Ira and I went from being two film geeks who talked about movies to two film geeks producing a 35mm motion picture. His constant encouragement and personal sacrifice have been a big part of my emotional backbone over these three years of work.

In post-production, I had the pleasure of working with an old friend, my Editor Aaron Vega. Aaron brought a great eye to the film, often pulling out moments I didn’t realize were there, and helping reinforce decisions on which take was best. He let things linger and I learned to trust his instincts, even though they sometimes conflicted with my original plans. Aaron’s a very grounded presence to have beside you in any situation, and he managed the task of cutting this film with a lot of grace.

And finally, there is this madman named Jason Wells, Sound Designer and Composer. I began talking to Jason about Addison’s Wall before we shot a single frame. I knew that because the main character never spoke, the ambience and music of the film would take on enormous weight. So much of our film was shot MOS and it was up to Jason to literally build this entire world. He described it as “a blank canvas”, and it meant recording and creating sound for everything from breathing, wind chimes, and thumbtacks being torn out of a wall and hitting the ground, to scribbling markers and background radio programs. And he did it all flawlessly. There is an amazing amount of detail in the final sound mix. It is a very quiet film, but the quiet is very complex and I know, whether they’re conscious of it or not, that viewers will respond to that.

This film was a long time in the making, 3+ years. What kept you driving to finish when so many other films don't?

The chance to direct this film was an incredible gift, and I will never forget that. There are many talented people who never get the emotional or financial support to achieve or manifest their dreams. I was given that in spades, so I never considered not finishing. Addison’s Wall is “a film by David Waingarten”, but it is not mine. I may have lived with it longer than anybody else, but in the end it is a collective accomplishment. And since I couldn’t pay people what they deserved during production, I feel the best way to honor everyone’s contribution is to give it back to them as this beautiful, finished work of art.

Also, directing the film doesn’t end after we wrap shooting. I’m still debating whether the sound effect of a locker door slamming we added last week should stay in the final sound mix. Point being, I enjoy being a director. I enjoy getting into the soft tissue of this thing, from the picture to the music to the sounds of the wind in the trees. Finishing the film has given me the opportunity to “direct” it in a thousand subtle and beautiful ways.

Filmmakers always have to reconcile "what they thought the film would be" with "what the film is". What's the biggest difference/surprise (good or bad) that you've found between the shooting script and finished film?

I was surprised by how sweet certain moments in the film became. The relationship between Addison and Asper was always written to be fragile at best. Both characters withdraw into their own private worlds in order to cope with their loss. But Colton and Ritah had this fantastic and silent chemistry that feels very deep and genuine, despite the tension and “wall” which develops between them. Even when Asper becomes angry with Addison, there’s a great deal of tenderness and love in both their eyes. That tenderness caught me off guard in a good way and added a lot of sincerity to the picture.

Likewise, I had little idea what music - if any - would serve the film. My Composer and Sound Designer Jason Wells and I talked about how we didn’t want music that cued the audience as to which emotion they should feel at a certain moment. It was a big mystery how we could create music that wouldn’t usurp the ambiguity of the film, and still add another layer of meaning. In the end, we filled up about 15 wine glasses with different amounts of water and recorded ourselves playing them for about an hour. No plan, no forethought, just two guys reacting to each other, creating this very hollow, fragile little symphony. And out of that came the score for the film. Very accidental and absolutely right.

Now that the film has a world premiere time and place at Cinequest, how does that make you feel?

Good. And scared. More than anything, I’m glad to see all this buildup finally have a point of release. It means the work is coming to an end (sort of) and that’s a relief. The fear comes from not knowing whether people will dig the film or not and having to prepare myself for criticism. These are all the things I can’t control.

What's going to follow Addison's Wall for director David Waingarten?

Addison’s Wall was a very formal film. I mean that it was not only very classical and intentional in its aesthetic, but everything was drawn out before hand. That was the right way to make that film, but I want the next film I make to be much more loose. I want to experience directing actors who are free to ad lib and change things up. Less emphasis on storyboards and more freedom to find the shots as we go. That’s what I’m willing to say about what’s next. I’m very interested in people my age (late 20s) in monogamous relationships and how that give and take works. I also live in New York City now, which I think is the greatest cinematic palette in the world, so whatever I do next, New York will be all over it.