Photograph by Justen Beasley
Film noir, drama, action-adventure, thriller, chiller, horror and romance—the list of genres and sub-genres is as expansive as the clichés surrounding filmmaking. Some call movies the stuff of dreams; some uphold what they consider film’s obligation to reflect life and the human condition. Still others call it all nonsensical entertainment. Whatever an individual’s leaning, perhaps one undeniable characteristic of film is that it’s everywhere, pervading the lives (and perhaps dreams) of nearly every American, just as it has since D.W. Griffith discovered “the little village” that became Hollywood. The history of film is so multifaceted it almost overwhelms every discussion attempting to classify it or distinguish its ultimate purpose, potential or social responsibility. Yet, despite the difficulties, we keep talking.
From June 14 through16—for 48 hours—800 St. Louis filmmakers stopped talking and started creating. The 48 Hour Film Project happens annually in 120 cities around the globe, offering thousands of competing teams the chance to use the two-day time limit as an excuse to stop worrying about art and simply produce it. On the evenings of June 18 and 19, moviegoers can head to the Tivoli Theatre to decide for themselves whether or not teams ended up creating art after all.
Mike Steinberg, producer of the 2013 48 Hour Film Project in St. Louis (and former director of the Webster Film Series), recalls barreling down Big Bend in 2004 with his teammates as the clock ticked on at Schlafly Bottleworks. They had seven minutes to submit “Carniphilia,” their eight-minute film about a vegetarian who falls in love with a carnivore. Only two days earlier, they’d quickly reviewed their requirements. Their masterpiece would be a comedy. It had to involve an ice cream man or woman named Sam Perconi, and it had to include the line, “Kick it into gear, buddy.” The rest was up to them, and they spent their allotted 48 hours at the St. Louis Zoo, in a helicopter capturing aerial shots of the Gateway Arch and, of course, in the editing lab at Webster University. When they finally burst through the door of Schlafly, running up to submit their film, the 10-second countdown was already underway.
“I don’t think it’s actually possible, but somehow we got there,” he says, noting that while the experience allowed him to embrace his lifelong passion without pretension or inhibition, the adrenaline rush of a 48 hour deadline will remain a one-time venture for him. As a producer, Steinberg says he’s continually impressed by the enthusiasm inherent in artists working ceaselessly without any expectation that what they end up creating will actually be considered art—much less profitable, or with the possibility of fame attached.
Nearly 10 years after participating in the 48 Hour Film Project, Steinberg is as busy as ever, working with the medium that has made his hairs stand on end since the days when he recited the lines of Raising Arizona with his childhood friends after school, or hosted movie parties for the neighbors in his father’s basement on Halloween. For him, loving film has always been about sharing film, and he credits film’s community-building potential as the reason he continues working as a producer, encouraging young dreamers to temporarily forget their lofty artistic ambitions, pick up a camera and capture some footage with friends.
“It’s got this excitement of, ‘This is the thing we did the other day…’ and it’s played in the Tivoli Theatre. So it’s got this complete different purpose than any other film. Other films are like, ‘This is the thing—you know this passion I had, and this story I wanted to tell, and whatever,’ and it’ll live on in a certain way, whereas this has this real fun kind of immediacy about it like a battle of the bands, like an improv competition—like any strong community event.”
For more information about the St. Louis 48 Hour Film Project and specific screening times, visit 48hourfilm.com/en/stlouis.
