Sheldon Wilson Director of Shallow Ground Speaks

"I knew I was on to something by the general look of horror and dismay on her face."
Or maybe it was confusion mixed with the sudden realization that maybe my wife didn’t really know the man she had married as well as she thought. Either way I had arrived at the desired reaction and knew that Shallow Ground was going to be my next script. I’d always loved movies like, "The Exorcist", "The Shining", and John Carpenter’s "The Thing", they were about more than who was going to get killed next, they were truly horrifying dramas. I’d always wanted to make a horror film but the last thing I wanted to do was make another ‘Slasher In The Woods Movie’. So I thought I’d start with that very image but try and take it somewhere completely unexpected.

Before I had the idea for Shallow Ground I was thinking a lot about what really scared people these days. During the 50’s and 60’s it was generally aliens and monsters. During the 70’s it was primarily the fear of religion and, of course, a very large shark. By the time we hit the 80’s it seemed to be all about men in masks doing horrible things. By the time we hit the 90’s it was about men without masks who lived next door doing even worse things. Where was there to go with the genre? The white adolescent male. These were the new monsters hidden throughout our suburban communities. Time bombs just waiting to go off in our schools, the local mall, even in our very own homes. And thanks to our local news stations the paranoia was being fueled every night at 6.

That’s when I came up with the image of the naked teenage boy covered in blood carrying a knife as he walked through the snow. A very stark image I thought, but as John Tarver (director of photography and producer) quickly pointed out we’d never get anyone to stand naked in the snow long enough to get off the first shot let alone shoot an entire movie. Luckily spring was right around the corner.

"Raising money. Now there’s a horror story."
I told myself when I started writing the script that come hell or high water I’m going to make this movie. I didn’t care if it was for $40 or $4,000,000.00. One way or another I was going to get this done. I should learn to be careful what I wish for. As it turned out the budget was much closer to the first number than the second (Alot closer).

How exactly did we raise the money? On behalf of William Mendel, our Executive Producer who found the money, I take the fifth. But I can tell you this; this movie wasn’t made with money, it was made with pure willpower. The very talented group of people who came on board to make this movie didn’t do it for a check, they did it because they wanted to see Shallow Ground get made. My hat goes off to everyone involved, this really was a once in a lifetime experience. I say that because after what I put them through they’d be crazy to work with me again.

"Don’t shoot! We’re only casting a movie!"
The shooting almost started a lot earlier on Shallow Ground than I had hoped. Steve Eastin, who plays Detective Russell, in my opinion one of Hollywood’s most talented character actors, was gracious enough to let us use his acting studio in Burbank for our casting sessions. A decision he probably regrets. Two weeks of casting quickly turned into three, then four, then five. Finally after two months, 6000 headshots, 422 auditions, and two big bottles of Tums, I had arrived at a cast I was very happy with… well, almost. There was one part I just couldn’t seem to find anyone for. Having long overstayed our welcome at Steve’s studio I decided we should cast the one remaining part in our office. There are very few things I would do differently in my life, this may be one of them.

Tara arrived at 6:05 p.m. She would be reading for the part of Amy Underhill, a girl who gets brutally murdered in the 1st act, driving our protagonist into a deep depression. She looked the part, but could she act? If she could act did she fully understand the physical requirements of the role, meaning did she mind the nudity involved? I always hated asking that question. No matter how you phrase it it always ends up sounding a little sleazy. 6:10 p.m. Tara had to be at her job by 6:30 p.m. so we cut the chit-chat short and got down to the work at hand. Jim Goodman our 1st Assistant Director started the video camera as Tara and I began to read through the scene. It was obvious from the beginning that Tara was good. This was great, I had narrowed it down to Tara and one other actor for the role.

Suddenly Tara screamed the most horrific scream I think I’ve ever heard in my life. It scared the shit out of me. After collecting myself I looked down at the page and sure enough, in big block letters, it said, "SCREAM!" That’s when we heard the commotion outside our office. Apparently it had also scared the shit out of the lawyer at the end of our hall.

Jim and I jumped to our feet anxious to calm any alarmed residents of the building. I swung open the office door and came face to face with our neighbor the lawyer. It was now 6:13. Tara had been in our office no more than 8 minutes and I now found myself staring at the end of one very large handgun. I don’t know guns very well but this was definitely one of the big ass Dirty Harry models. The lawyer, looking quite worked up and ready to kick some ass, pushed passed me into the office where he saw Tara, safe and sound. We quickly explained that we were casting a movie and apologized for everything. As the lawyer made his way back to his office he seemed very disappointed that he didn’t get to shoot anyone. But hey, it was LA, maybe his drive home would present him the opportunity to squeeze off a few rounds. Tara picked up her script ready to read the scene again. I told her she had the part. She screamed. I ducked for cover.

"But I told you guys that this was going to be a hands on experience…"
I kept reminding Bill (Exec Prod.), Martin (Prod.) and John (DP & Prod.), my three other producing partners, of this very fact as we spent our days off during the shoot picking up garbage. Because of our limited resources, and incredibly tight shooting schedule, there were certain things that needed to get done while our crew was home resting. These tasks fell to us, the producers. Whenever we finished shooting at a particular location we would give the crew a day off. I would like to think we did this because we are good guys, but the reality is that I pushed the crew so hard that if we didn’t give them these days off I’d have a revolt on my hands.

So, on our days off, myself and my three partners would clean-up all the garbage from the location, pack all the lights onto the trucks, wrap all the cables, fix whatever property we had damaged that week, then relocate everything to the next location where we would set it all up so we’d be ready to roll the next morning when the crew came back. I have to say that no one really knew exactly what we were getting ourselves into. The amount of work I was asking people to undertake was way beyond reason. That’s why I most certainly would have been killed at the time if I had mentioned that I really was enjoying myself, garbage duty and all. To me it was movie making at its purest.

"Honestly Officer… it’s fake blood."
No matter how committed a filmmaker you are there’s always that point about half way through principal photography when you ask yourself, "What the hell am I doing? What complete lapse of reasoning has led me to this moment, what total lack of self preservation has compelled me to make movies?" These were the thoughts going through my head as the California State Trooper pointed his flashlight into the back seat of our Toyota 4 Runner. Jim Goodman, our trusty 1st AD (actually, he was pretty much our entire AD Department) had apparently been swerving a little more than usual as we made our way back into the city after a very long night of shooting. Feeling exhausted, and still a little guilty for hanging a half naked girl from a tree for the better part of the day, I decided to let Jim do all the talking. Surely once the State Trooper realized that we we’re merely overworked filmmakers he would give us a brief lecture and we’d be on our way. That probably would have been the case if there hadn’t been a plastic sheet, along with a large hook, chain and pulley all covered in blood on the floor behind my seat. Jim’s strong North Carolina accent only added to the Trooper’s "serial killer" perception of us. No longer feeling exhausted I quickly began explaining who we were and that the blood in the back seat was fake, it was movie blood. For a brief moment I even considered licking some of the blood off the plastic sheet behind me to prove my point but quickly realized that would only further convince the Trooper that we were blood thirsty serial killers fleeing from a fresh kill. After all, we were in Topanga Canyon, Charlie Manson’s old stomping grounds.

Then the Trooper saw the head. There was no doubt about it, we were well on our way to spending the night in jail. Which, given the shooting schedule I had the next morning, wasn’t sounding like such a bad idea. Luckily, after some reluctant closer examination on the part of the State Trooper he realized it wasn’t a real decomposing head (my wife on the other hand isn’t so sure and still refuses to let me keep it in the house). In that moment we went from two serial killers to just a couple of sick bastards standing on the side of the road (fortunately that’s no crime, at least not in California). As we pulled back onto the road I couldn’t help but think how much I loved filmmaking. The sickness had returned. Three months later I was going through airport security on the way to Europe. It seems I still had some blood on my shoes. Well, we’ll save that story for another time.

"How far are you willing to go to get the sound you want?"
I answered the only way I could, "As far as it takes" "How does Budapest sound?" Steve London, the film’s composer/good friend/the guy willing to do whatever needed to be done to get the movie made, and myself had many conversations about the music for Shallow Ground. I had two general notes. I didn’t want any melody (composers love that) and I wanted the music to be as organic sounding as possible. Steve, always up for a challenge, began composing on the computer right away. It soon became painfully clear that although computers can create some amazing music (along with the composer of course), they still had their limitations. The only way we were going to get the sound we wanted for Shallow Ground was to use real musicians. I know, it’s crazy talk, especially considering that usually on independent films using real musicians means a guy with an acoustic guitar.

Steve suggested we go to Budapest and use an orchestra there he had worked with quite a bit. I suggested he take a break for a while, he might be a little overworked. We could barely afford the 200 square foot production office the four of us were crammed into trying to finish the film, there was no way we could afford to get to Budapest yet alone hire and pay an orchestra. But, in typical Steve fashion, he pulled some strings, called in some favors (the opening scene in the Godfather always comes to mind for reasons I can’t really get into) and two months later we were in Budapest recording the music for Shallow Ground with a 72 piece orchestra. It was an amazing experience and I’ll always be grateful to everyone who pitched in to make that happen. "I’ll never be able to say no again…" Whenever I talk about Shallow Ground I always feel I need to go down my long list of thank you’s. I’ve pulled so many favors in this town I’ll never be able to say no to anyone again. I can’t say enough good things about Richie Nieto, our sound designer (actually he was our entire sound department). This movie never would have gotten off the ground if it hadn’t been for Patrick Magee and his special effects gang who got behind the movie early. Then there’s Richard Dorton and his stunt crew who came in and gave us these great stunts for next-to-no money and always kept everyone safe and healthy. Thanks to everyone, I am forever indebted. "What was it like editing the movie myself? From here on in its all a blur, ask me again after I’ve slept for a month."

Sheldon Wilson / 2004
Shallow Ground