In 2004 Docs In Progress was born of an idea that documentary filmmakers would want a place to get constructive feedback on their works in progress. At our very first screening, we introduced a film called Up To The Mountain, Down to The Village by journalist-turned-filmmaker Chris Billing. Now, two films later, Billing will be premiering his latest film, Lost Sparrow at the prestigious Slamdance Film Festival on January 16, 2009. The film is the culmination of Billing’s two year probe into the deaths of his two adopted brothers who had been struck by a freight train in 1978. As Billing digs deeper into the story, he discovers some deeper truths about his family. We recently caught up with Billing to find out a little bit more about his journey.
You screened Up To The Mountain, Down to The Village twice with Docs In Progress (including at our very first
screening back in May 2004).
When I started making Up To The Mountain, Down to The Village, I was pretty wet behind the ears as a filmmaker. I knew the stories I wanted to tell – the experiences of re-educated youth during the Mao era in China – were fascinating and worthyof a documentary. But I was trying to figure out how to put that vision on film.
I don’t remember how I first heard about Docs In Progress. It was a new organization then. Somebody must have told me about it. So I sent in a 12-minute VHS demo tape of our work in progress. At that point, the film was probably about half-shot. A couple weeks later, Erica called to say that you guys wanted to screen the film. It was, of course, exhilarating and nerve-wracking at the same time. The audience pretty much tore into the film, with lots of sometimes-contradictory advice on how to make it better. It was overwhelming. But one consistent theme was that people wanted to know more, which we took as a good sign. So, we took a couple more trips back to China and finished the film.
Then, maybe nine months after that first screening, we screened for Docs In Progress again. But this time we had a much finer cut. Again, we got an earful. Docs In Progress audiences are not shy. But this time the critique was more nitpicky – how to improve various scenes, how to tighten the overall structure, etc. My rule of thumb is: if one person makes a suggestion, you file it away. But if two or three people make the same suggestion, then it’s time to act. I think after the second Docs In Progress screening, we spent another month or so editing. And then began shipping it out to distributors and film festivals.
What became of that film once it was done?
The film was picked up by WGBH International, based in Boston. It has aired numerous times in Asia and Europe. It has also had a good run on university campuses around the country. We’re still waiting for it to be broadcast in the U.S.
You came to documentary film from a career as a journalist. What do you see as the similarities and differences between the two approaches to telling stories?
In many ways, the tools of a journalist are useful in documentary filmmaking. After more than a decade in broadcast journalism, I knew how to work with cameras and edit equipment, how to conduct interviews, and how to weave together a story. However, I did come to realize that there’s a big difference between putting together a two-minute TV spot and keeping an audience’s attention through a feature-length documentary.
With most network TV reporting, you want to tell the story as succinctly as possible. Often, editors will give you a strict time limit for the spot, say, two minutes and thirty seconds. And that’s all you’ve got. Anything that doesn’t fit ends up on the cutting room floor. It’s liberating as a documentary filmmaker to be able to explore topics in greater depth. But it’s easy to let that new found freedom run amok. I’m always aware of the danger of wearing out my welcome with the viewer.
Your latest film is Lost Sparrow. This is a very different film from your previous films since it deals with your own family. How did you approach this film?
Shortly after I began making documentaries in 2004, I sat down and made a list of topics I’d like to explore. Prominent on that list was the question, “What happened to Bobby and Tyler?” My two brothers, whom we adopted from the Crow Indian reservation in the early 70s, were struck and killed by a freight train in June of 1978. Their tragic and sudden deaths have always haunted me, mostly because there were so many unanswered questions. Why had the two happy, well-adjusted boys run away from home? And why were they lying on train tracks? And why didn’t they get out of the way of the train?
About two years ago, with the help of my sister Janelle, I started looking into those questions. Janelle is the biological sister of Bobby and Tyler, and she was the last one to see them alive. She had information about their deaths that I hadn’t heard before. So I started d
igging. And to be honest, I was amazed and troubled and horrified by what I discovered. The investigation took me to Crow Indian Reservation in Montana, where the two boys and their two sisters, Lana and Janelle, were born. My crew and I also traveled to upstate New York, site of the tragic accident; to North Carolina, where Lana lives now; and to central Florida, where my father lives.The remarkable thing about Lost Sparrow is that the film began taking on a life of its own. Things began happening within our family that would not have happened if I hadn’t started making the film.
While I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished with the film, the filmmaking process was difficult. I uncover things in my own family that most families wouldn’t talk about. But I think it’s also affirming. The question is sometimes asked, “Can film have a real-life impact?” Well, in the case of Lost Sparrow the answer is “Yes.” In the life of our family, the film has had a definite impact. And I believe the film can resonate with a much broader audience as well.
Many filmmakers don’t feel comfortable putting themselves in front of the camera? Since this story was about your family, how did you go about integrating your voice into the story?
This was the most difficult part for me. I’m much more comfortable behind the camera. But Lost Sparrow is really my journey of discovery. And, as the Docs In Progress team told me in a private consultation, I needed to have a strong presence in the film. So, I began including myself in some cut-way shots, and I put a microphone on myself during interviews.
Surprisingly, despite more than a decade in broadcast journalism, one of the hardest parts for me was making my narration sounds natural and heartfelt. When I speak into a microphone, I tend to sound stilted and emotionally disengaged. And that certainly didn’t fit the tone of the film. The solution was to have somebody interview me. I basically told the story to another person. And then I used that as my narration. Fortunately, a few of my patient and long-suffering friends were willing to sit with me through this sometimes tedious process.
What was the hardest thing about making this film?
Certainly, the hardest part was confronting my father about his role in the disappearance of Bobby and Tyler. Out of the hundreds of interviews I’ve conducted over many years in journalism, that one was far and away the most difficult. Interestingly, he was unaware that his actions led to such dire consequences. His coming to grips with this new realization became a major theme in the film. Of all the people in the film, his character develops the most.
Were there other films or filmmakers which inspired you?
In making Lost Sparrow, the two documentaries I went back to repeatedly were Andrew Jarecki’s Capturing the Friedmans and Doug Block’s 51 Birch Street. Both films deal with sensitive family issues, and I learned a lot from the way these two filmmakers tastefully handled difficult topics.
Difficult topics, to say the least. Some of the themes of your film (Native American-White relations, child abuse, and alcoholism) can be lighting rod issues. How did you go about making sure the film dealt with these themes in a sensitive way?
Ultimately, the solution was to give everybody in the film an opportunity to have a say. For example, my parents talk in detail about why they adopted Native American children. They say that they were aware of the poverty on many reservations, and that, while many people at the time (the early 70s) were adopting Korean children, they wanted to help people in their own country. That section is followed by a response from the Crow relatives in Montana discussing the impact on the tribe of losing the four children. They spent the next two-plus decades wondering where the children were taken and what happened to them. Back then, adoption records were sealed. No information at all was given to the biological family. For example, nine months after the tragic deaths of Bobby and Tyler, their father Ben Stands Over Bull received a brief letter notifying him that his sons were dead. The letter only divulged that they had been living in “a distant state.” That was it. You can imagine how devastating this was for the Crow family.
Additionally we are working with affinity groups, including Stop the Silence and the Native American Children’s Alliance, which deal with child abuse issues. Their input has been invaluable.
Instead of doing a Docs In Progress screening for this film, you chose to meet with us for a one-on-one consultation and also hold some smaller focus group screenings on your own. Could you talk a little bit about this process?
Because the film is so personal, I felt I needed to maintain control of who saw it and when. On the other hand, since I was editing this personal story myself, I knew that it would be impossible for me to remain objective. I desperately needed advice and guidance from others. As you recall, I took copious notes during our sessions together, and went back and applied as many of your suggestions as I could. I did the same thing when I screened with other groups and individuals. I’ve come to deeply value feedback from Docs in Progress and others whose opinions I trust and who are willing to tell me honestly and directly what works and what doesn’t.
In making Lost Sparrow, I conducted numerous screenings with various groups. And the critique I dreaded most was when somebody would say, “Such and such part kinda dragged.” As soon as I heard that, I knew I had to go back in and start tightening. Lost Sparrow is a remarkable story, and the last thing I wanted was to make it seem boring.
It’s easy for filmmakers to become defensive when people criticize their work. I often have the same reaction. But I think we need to resist that tendency. I’d rather hear negative criticism during the editing process, when I can actually do something about it, than have the film panned by reviewers (or rejected by film festival programmers, sales agents, distributors, broadcasters, etc.) after it’s finished. Granted, not all criticism is valid or useful. But some of it is. And it’s ultimately in the filmmaker’s interest to receive it graciously and learn from it.
Lost Sparrow will premiere at the Slamdance Film Festival on Friday, January 16, 2009 at 12:30 pm in the Slamdance Main Screening Room (Treasure Mountain Inn, 255 Main Street, Park City, Utah). There will be a second screening on Tuesday, January 20 at 3:00 pm in the Slamdance Gallery Screening Room (also in the Treasure Mountain Inn). For more on the film, visit www.lostsparrowmovie.com
