Five Dollar Friday — Andrew Dutkiewicz & 'Call This Land Mother'
A filmmaker and their short film deserving of your attention
Happy Five Dollar Friday!
Today I’m very excited to introduce you to Andrew ‘Ducky’ Dutkiewicz, a first-generation filmmaker now based in Washington.
Ducky is currently crowdfunding his next short film, Call This Land Mother:
An Irish immigrant recalls his first summer in America as a teenager, and the mysterious girl he met who could speak to his dead mother. Call This Land Mother unfolds in poetic vignettes of grief, memory, and the search for home in a foreign land.
Ducky, your campaign video for Call This Land Mother — a lens test hiding in plain sight — is absolutely gorgeous. I’d love to hear more about how it came together and whether you always envisioned using it for your campaign.
To use the crowdfunding video as a lens test was an early thought for sure. I think my first question about doing a video was, how do we show we can make this movie?
That began a discussion with myself of framing it as close to the short's desired tone with what we had. The way we open the video, the "I was 24, almost 25," with the close-up into the lens, that's almost a 1:1 copy of the opening line of our script for CALL THIS LAND MOTHER. So I started there.
Then came the question of shooting it. AtlasScope, an experimental anamorphic format, was something my Director of Photography, Matthew Devlin, and I had wanted to shoot for a LONG time. But to do that we needed to test it — a big undertaking, more than just throwing a lens on a camera and a camera on a tripod.
We're basically turning the entire camera body, 15lbs, on its side and then mounting a specific lens with a specific mount. We then have to make sure the camera and the lens are safe as the camera has to be mounted to a bracket which causes it to be secured from the side, leaving a scary few inches of nothing under the camera (which is worth lots) and lenses (which are worth lots).
On top of this, we wanted a 1.66 aspect ratio, and every test we had seen of this gave more square ratios. Devlin did his magic (by magic I mean strenuous math equations) to find the right mix to get us that 1.66. So there were a ton of moving parts and opportunities for mishap when it came to production. It made sense that this was the time to try it.
We then reached out to Atlas Lens Co., the leading anamorphic lens manufacturers, with the idea and they were super supportive and lent us the lenses for the weekend and let us capture what we needed down in Los Angeles. It was very generous, and one of those cool "woah they responded" moments.
And then I came into the idea of seeing if our composer, Owen Andruchow, wanted to compose for the video. Similarly to it being our lens test, we both saw it as an opportunity not just to make a really good video, but space to explore the film's sound and play. See what we liked and what we didn't.
That's what I'd say is the best part of making this video: we all got to play and test with little to no pressure. Sure we wanted to make a good video, but there was space to experiment and learn. There are aspects of the film I've tweaked and looked at differently since. It gave us all the chance to explore now, and build later.
I love that approach, viewing the crowdfunding video for Call This Land Mother as an opportunity for play rather than just a task that needs to get done.
And I’m so glad you brought up your composer, Owen. I don't get the chance to talk about composers in this newsletter because they usually come aboard projects so late in the process. So I’m curious to ask: what’s it been like collaborating with him so far?
For me, working with composers has always been this mix of intimidating and delightful. Intimidating because I don’t speak “composer,” and delightful because the process is so deeply emotional and playful. What’s it been like for you?
Owen is just fantastic. Let me say his full name actually, Owen Andruchow. He's great. He actually approached me. I had a local screening with The Seattle Film Society for Everything Happens (my previous short film). He was there and the day after messaged me on Instagram. He really liked the film. So we talked and discussed movies and scores and Call This Land Mother came up and that led us to the realm of who knows, maybe - and then we got a drink and just talked more and more about our philosophy of working in our roles - him with directors and I with composers.
This is my first time really working with a composer, and Owen has brought such an open eye to the communication process. I've found in the past that these sort of elongated parts of filmmaking can be rabbit holes. Especially when there's no pressure to finish. It's not like we're on set staring down the lens knowing we have to be out by 10pm. We can email chain forever. We can edit forever. We can change forever.
The film isn't done until you Final Export for the eighth time and even then a shot could be colored differently. There's one idea one morning and by night that changes, or a note is given using an adjective that's slightly off or not specific enough and you get a pass that feels farther from what you want. So to make sure I don't bring any of us there I try to really ponder every response before sending on things like this (I've learned the long and hard way).
I know exactly what you mean. One of the beautiful parts of filmmaking is that ten different people can, say, read a simple description on a script page and have ten distinctly different takeaways.
And yet, one of the more frustrating parts of filmmaking is that the same magic of interpretation can completely derail you when it’s words in an email instead of words on a page. Something that felt perfectly clear in your head can land completely differently for someone else — and suddenly you’re spending your very finite energy chasing them down, trying to bring them back into the fold.
This is where the crowdfunding really helped, because it started this early dialogue with less chains or threat of finishing. We have conversations now, this morning we actually texted, about ideas of sound and mixing and presence.
And it gave us both a chance to see our collaboration. I got to see what notes were well communicated to Owen, what he understood, and what got lost in my translation. It begins that dialogue and trust that lets you say "I actually don't know" to a question or "is this clear enough?" or even "I don't know if this is the right adjective, but it feels correct right now, what do you think?" It's been so nice to build that rapport in these early stages, and not when there's a picture lock and THEN we start to learn who each other is and what this movie sounds like with this edit staring at you demanding answers.
So I agree, they are intimidating and delightful.
It's such a different position than any other on a film because more than any other role, it's hard to know what you want. It's so open-ended. There's of course references and names to throw around, we both love Joe Hisaishi, but it really is it's own embellishment on the project.
I would say every aspect of production makes up the filmmaking body. Logistics and scheduling and locations in the legs; the story and cast in the chest; the arms being the crew and equipment stuff like this, and the head and eyes being the tone and direction - and this all comes together to be a walking talking movie. But the score, that feels more like the outfit on the body. It's independently made, but chosen by the film to wear, put together.
The best scores are the ones that feel hand in hand with the movie. A friction. You want that score to not telegraph the emotions to the audience, but to be pillars, holding it up. One example that pops in my head, other than the aforementioned Hisaishi, is the opening scene of Brady Corbet's The Brutalist. I believe it's streaming on HBO MAX at the moment, so go check out those first 5 minutes or so, but that's an incredible example of a score being independent while being adorned by the picture. That's Daniel Blumberg who wrote that, and he finds there (and through the movie entirely) a sweet balance between being present and riding the narrative. It's just incredible when it's done right. So yes. Intimidating and delightful.
Yes! The score crushes you with tension, making the lower decks of that ship feel impossibly tight. And then comes that sweet release when we finally see the open sky — and the iconic, upside-down Statue of Liberty.
Immigration stories have been very much in the zeitgeist for a while, look no further than The Brutalist. But as you note in your campaign video, the topic feels more urgent than ever. It’s no surprise someone would be drawn to that world, but I’m always curious about what sparks a story. What inspired you to write Call This Land Mother?
This is such an interesting question as it's always, and comprehensively so, asked down the line and it feels like so many things came together to inspire this.
My goal ultimately is to balance a realistic world with the unknown, and Everything Happens was my effective take on the real world, but I really wanted to start dipping into the mystery, the things we see in the corners of our eyes.
Searching for this next film I'd say I wrote around 10 shorts over the last couple of years, while working on some features, and 3-5 of those almost got made - but they always had an emotional hiccup. A lot of them are shorts I really want to make one day, but for right now they didn't sit right. There was a dissonance when it came to really putting the production together.
I love filmmaking, but I don't take it lightly or make these things lightly. It's so fucking cheesy, but it's spiritual. The art of composing a world and pulling people into that, ready for battle, it's incorporeal.
So I was really searching. I would start one script, get it to a working draft or pre-production, and move on. Dive into a feature idea and write a proof of concept. Come up with a new concept or story and shelve it (I have so many lists). But I couldn't land on anything.
I also am from the East Coast, and like I say in the crowdfunding video, I was struggling to find something that worked for me after moving to Washington State. I was lost. I didn't know the locations, how to frame the trees or the towns. It wasn't a part of me the way New England is (where I write most all my scripts for). I didn't know any other filmmakers. I had crew scattered in Los Angeles and New York City, but here I was really alone.
So it was a real hunt for an idea. Which is the exact last thing you want to do when you want to have an idea, is look. So I struggled and tried and conceptualized and after literal months just gave up - and I knew all along I had to give up to get that idea (I always remind myself of that moment in Kiki's Delivery Service where she has lost her powers, and then after struggling to get them back just submits and lays in the forest and it gives her that magic back) but it wasn't until I really just abolished any hope of writing that this came.
It was kind of a piece meal to be honest. Bear with me, my girlfriend's roommate's father - Tim - is an Irish immigrant, and when I helped move them in (this is a year and a half before I even got the idea for this film) Tim and I moved furniture and got to know each other and he immediately stuck in my brain to cast him one day. I really love first-time actors, and pulling people who have never thought of acting into that world (both of my parents, neither actors, star in my last short Everything Happens). It has to be a special sort of lightning moment but when you find them they stick in your head, and Tim stuck. So I knew I wanted to make space for him one day.
And then fast forward to the whole, I have no idea what I am going to do about my next short film dilemma of a year and a half later, where one day in the middle of a park walk with my girlfriend there was this beautifully cleaned bone on the shoals, over the salt water, just perfectly strange. And the story just started to flood. I'm a huge iPhone notes guy, that thing is riddled with my brain, and I just pulled out my phone and typed and typed. Images and characters and everything.
I saw this young couple enjoying summer and an underlying magic and a tree of bones and a man compiling these memories from a bar top - that man being Tim of course... and then I quickly got to writing. It just came out of me, again cheesy, and maybe it was that draft or the next that I realized its connection to my mother and the immigrant story and finding my way of telling that story with what I know, being delicate with it while not sacrificing the film's narrative integrity.
That's the beauty of art to me, those things that intrigue you for who knows what, that sweep you away, and once the ashes and wood chips settle you get to look over it and see yourself 1000 times over. And maybe that's just you finding your connection to it and having the privilege to leverage and explore and change things - but that's also your job as an artist, is to make space in your work for the viewer to do this. To find themselves and their feelings in your specifics. It's a balance. And like the search for that spark, it's something that you don't plan on. You just have to let it go.
That’s a lovely sentiment to end on. Thank you, Ducky, for your time. And best of luck with your campaign and your film!
You can join me in supporting Ducky and his film Call This Land Mother by contributing to the campaign here:
Thanks to the help of paid subscribers, my weekly contribution has increased from $5 at the start of this newsletter to now $19.
Again: it’s better for everyone involved if you contribute directly to the filmmaker’s campaign yourself and don’t become a paid subscriber to this newsletter. But, if you ain’t got time for that, you can upgrade your subscription and I’ll contribute a little bit extra each week on your behalf.
🥂 Congratulations to Jamin Mears on the successful conclusion of his campaign!
⏳ There’s still time to contribute to Rose and Orlando’s campaigns:
✍️ And, as always, feel free to write back if you have a question for one of the filmmakers, an update on a short film project of your own, or if you just want to say hi!