Echo Weekly
INDIE FILMMAKING IN KANSAS

By Michael Truscello

On July 12, I attended the North American premiere of Firecracker at the Fantasia Film Festival in Montreal. Directed by Steve Balderson, Firecracker is a densely symbolic rendering of a true event, the only murder in the history of Balderson’s hometown, Wamego, Kansas.
Interest in the film is building on two fronts: initial reviews are strong, as they were for Balderson’s first film, Pep Squad; and two lead roles are occupied by avant–garde rocker Mike Patton, formerly of Faith No More and Mr. Bungle, in his acting debut. The cast also includes the ubiquitous Karen Black (Nashville, Easy Rider), and Susan Traylor (To Die For, Valerie Flake). Mr. Balderson discussed independent filmmaking and the cinematic quality of Kansas.

ECHO: How much of the Kansas we see in the film is the “cinematic Kansas?” That is, the film foregrounds its basis in reality, but I would say it feels like the depiction of Kansas is based more on a cinematic rather than an actual referent.

Steve Balderson: Much of Firecracker is Cinematic Kansas — but Kansas, itself, is really this cinematic. But it takes a secret eye to see it. When one is growing up here, or passing through, it’s easy to not see the beauty. Sometimes, especially for artists growing up in this place, the landscapes we see are more often interpreted as a prison — separating us from the outside and rest of the world. There is also a grittiness to Kansas. In Cold Blood is another Kansas film that captures that starkness. There is both beauty and panic in something stark. One person can look out at the continuous prairie and feel calm, while other people might feel terror. I’ve seen people feel both.

ECHO: Critic Pamela Robertson once said The Wizard of Oz “paradigmatically enacts the road movie’s contradiction between the desire for home and away.” Firecracker seems to capture the same tension, albeit in much starker contrasts. The sound of the train is forever present, a reminder of things constantly leaving and arriving in Wamego, or maybe just passing it by. More centrally, the contrast between the carnival (which never “stays”) and the character of Jimmy (who cannot “leave”) embodies this desire for home and away. If one believes Sandra’s advice to Jimmy, one need not leave in order to become an artist. Is this tension between the artistic predilection to be mobile (the classic trope for avant garde artists) and the sense of connection with the land, with “place,” an autobiographical element of the film? Would you say this is an artistic manifesto of sorts for you?

SB: Thank you for picking up on the sounds of the train and its meaning. You’re the first person to notice what I was going for there. The train is a symbol of all that “passes by” Wamego. In addition, you will notice upon a second viewing, the placement of the train and its sounds are crucial. The sounds are there to remind Eleanor and Jimmy of the crime they are trying to deny. It’s as if the sounds of the freedom and movement will always be a reminder to them of their mistakes and their loss — or loneliness. I do see the contradiction in Firecracker between the desire for home and away.
Also, with the symbolic nature of the dikenga, explained on my website in the “mirror image” essay, another aspect is the term dichotomy. Home and safety (Wamego) are represented by geometrical simplicity — all right angles and triangles. Danger and evil (the carnival) are invariably twisty, irregular and misshapen. The world of Kansas, in Firecracker, is a great void, shaped with uncomplicated shapes in black and white. The carnival is a separate sphere, free and nomadic —wherein the openness of Sandra’s “great escape” and the vividness of the green, against her red cape, become terrifying. On the “mirror image” page of the Firecracker website I elaborate. Here’s a direct link: www.dikenga.com/films/firecracker/mirror_image/index.htm. You’ll see many things in this essay that tell secrets of the film.

ECHO: I also found it interesting in the Wamego documentary that even though your production was free of the Hollywood system, it wasn’t like that freedom meant some kind of anarchic filmmaking. It really seemed to mean being even more organized. Your father sounded like I imagine a studio executive to sound (trying to curb costs wherever possible, keeping people in line with their jobs, and so on), but on a much smaller scale. What do you think are the central constraints that are absent from an independent production like yours, but present in a larger production?

SB: The constraints in making an independent film centre more around money and the resources than anything else. A small production has those constraints. Because the big productions don’t have those constraints, people are never pressed into figuring out how to do something for less. They aren’t forced to be creative. That leads to the narrow–thinking and bureaucratic thinking prevalent on big–budget productions.Making Firecracker was probably more organized than more expensive movies. We’ve always said there should be structure. In order to make a movie look like a multi–million dollar film for a fraction of the cost one must have structure. It must be organized. The trouble with anarchy is that you don’t achieve objectives. Our trouble with Hollywood is that they impose a structure that is irrelevant to the end result. Sometimes a favoured Hollywood process is simply illogical for a small independent film. Sure, when one has $180 million to spend those processes don’t dent the bank. But when one is making a movie without an endless supply of cash, sometimes certain ways of doing things just aren’t wise. For instance, I had to do all the casting on Firecracker myself. We didn’t have tens of thousands of dollars to hire someone else to do it. Same goes for building sets. I took a hands–on approach because I love to work, and by doing so myself, we were able to save a lot of money. By saving money in one area, we would have the freedom to rent a helicopter, for instance.

ECHO: Middle America has received a good deal of attention since the 2004 Presidential Election, much of the attention based on the cultural divide between coastal states and the rest of America, and a sense that Middle America gets ignored in the larger mediasphere that is “America.” When Middle America is depicted in this larger mediasphere, it is often a caricature of the reality (take, for example, the only remotely “rural” Hollywood movie of the summer season: The Dukes of Hazzard). Do you think places such as Kansas are untapped artistically, especially cinematically? Is there a burgeoning scene in Middle America of which we are not aware?

SB: I think there are many talented artists that live in Middle America that are ignored or, worse, succumb to pressure imposed by the coasts, and give up working. At the same time there is a burgeoning scene here in the Midwest, there aren’t a lot of people creating art that otherwise should be. So much emphasis is placed on moving to the coasts, that people actually believe that they cannot create art from anywhere else. There is a discussion between Jimmy and Sandra where he says, “I’d love to go away and make art, but my mom says I should stay here and be a good person,” or something to that effect. I’ve heard this repeatedly. The coastal cities tell us we’re nothing unless we live by their expectations, and sometimes, we start to believe them. That is the single biggest threat in my opinion. The answer comes down to one’s definition of success. Is it to go to Hollywood parties, be known throughout town, sip Martinis at the Chateau Marmont? Or is it to create a work of art and be productive? Or is it to raise a family? There are some people who I consult with who cannot grasp that I can be a successful filmmaker and live in Wamego. I examine why they think this and it makes sense to me. They are defining success in film with all of those things I mentioned first, about fame. Somehow, media or the culture of Hollywood, enables this thinking that if one is going to make films, one must fit their particular definition. And because I am not at the Chateau Marmont, I am not successful. Even though I’m making films and achieving my own personal objectives. As long as mainstream culture defines success by measuring the wrong elements, there will be many artists ignored and not acknowledged.

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Echo Weekly - 2005

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