February, Year of the Wood Snake

We’re five weeks out from filming The Gamers: Dorkness Falls and so far everything has gone right. We’re all crewed up, the script is sparkling, and just recently we cast our final major role. We’ve gotten, or are in the process of getting, our first choice of every location, which has never happened before—we’ve always had to compromise. I don’t want to jinx anything, but it feels like everything is sliding into alignment. It feels like we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

There's a lot left to do, but we're pacing ourselves. Rest is key—we’re aiming for two projects a year for the next zodiac cycle—and we’ll relax once we’ve wrapped. But that’s two months from now, at the end of April, a world away. But by then, the final Gamers film will be in the can—and we'll have shot it at a place I've been wanting to film since the original Gamers movie. 

Camlann Medieval Village

 When I was researching places to film The Gamers in 2001, I found a place that I couldn’t believe existed: Camlann Medieval Village. Founded in 1981, it is a living history museum project that focuses on recreating daily life and craft in late 14th century England. Situated in the Cascade foothills 30 miles from Seattle, it features a multitude of period buildings—including an actual inn—and hosts annual events with hundreds of re-enactors in full kit. Needless to say, it was the perfect location. Everything else paled in comparison.

We asked, and they said no. And they continued to say no for over twenty years, for the Camlann’s founder was such a stickler for historical accuracy that he wouldn’t allow the village to be used for anything that wasn't period. And so we filmed our little films in medieval theme restaurants and pioneer museums and in our production designer’s garage, hoping that one day, circumstances would change, and we’d be allowed to film in what became our Shangri-La.

 When we began preproduction for Dorkness Falls, Camlann was once again at the top of my list. I did not expect to get it. I was fully prepared to spend tens of thousands building a village set that would look like a cheap village set.

In January, Abie invited me to attend the final Yuletide Feast at the Camlann, to which she’d somehow finagled an invitation herself. It was my first visit to the village. and even in the dark of a winter night, it took my breath away. The buildings, which had seemed modestly sized in the pictures, towered above me on load-bearing timbers. It was quiet there, so quiet, with no light or sound intruding from the modern world. The inn was a revelation, a step back in time. And the food! A three-course meal, served on a trencher, interspersed with regular servings of spiced wine. Between courses, a bard came out to play a period instrument—a lute, mini harpsichord, and hurdy-gurdy—while he sang or recited poetry in Middle English. 

 As our meal wrapped up, the bard took a well-deserved bow, and then said something that changed the course of our film. “I have been working at the Camlann for 36 years,” he said, “but for the first time in the village’s 43-year history, we are under visionary new management.”

By the end of the night, we had an email chain going with that visionary new management. It turns out the board had brought the new director on with the goal of increasing the village’s visibility. We figured there had to be a way we could help each other out. To put it in the director’s words, “This seems like a slam dunk.” She invited us back to scout the location in the daylight. And on Saturday, February 1, less than a month ago and somehow several years back, we got to see the Camlann in its full glory.

I’d thought it was just the inn and a handful of outbuildings—not true. The Camlann went on for thirty-six acres, with rows and lanes of buildings, including tournament grounds, stretching all the way to the cliffs above the creek. That was it. We couldn’t film anywhere else, not after witnessing its magic firsthand. Our DP kept muttering “I can’t believe this place exists” while he snapped pictures.

 Abie worked her magic, and as of the end of February, she inked a deal to film at the Camlann. In exchange, in addition to an entirely reasonable fee, we’re going film a promotional video for the village that will be featured on the DVDs and Blu-rays of Dorkness Falls, on our YouTube page and theirs, and anywhere else they like.

You can find more pictures and a much fuller writeup in our VIP Newsletter.

I’m still in shock. This is a wish fulfilled. We are filming Gamers 4 at the Camlann. Not only that, we’ll be filming their promotional video during—

The Camlann’s First Annual Fête

 On Saturday, April 12, Camlann Medieval Village is hosting a fundraiser for its first annual Fête! The festivities begin at noon and will feature demonstrations of 14th century arts and crafts by re-enactors in full kit and costume; a silent auction; and a banquet feast at The Bors Hede Inn. Tickets are limited and go on sale March 1. If you love ren faires but have always longed for something more authentic, you won’t want to miss this. 

Cabbage Season Approaches

Gamers 4 isn’t the only production deadline bearing down on us. We’re just over three months out from the campaign for Liberty Cabbage: Season 2.

We’re launching the LC2 Kickstarter on June 3. It will wrap on the 4th of July. That seems like more than enough time to organize a campaign, right? The season’s already written and broken down. How hard could the rest be? 

It’s actually a tighter timeline than it appears. We’ll be going with a prelaunch page this time around so folks can familiarize themselves with the project. Assuming a two-week prelaunch window, the prelaunch page would need to go live by May 20, which means we’d need to submit the project for approval by May 13, a week earlier. We wrap Gamers 4 on in the fourth week of April, which means we’ll have only three weeks to get the LC2 campaign up and ready to go.

A Kickstarter video is a smallish affair, but we’d still be coming off the biggest feature we’d ever worked on. And with all the producer-side stuff eating through my days, I hadn’t been able to carve out the time to write the Kickstarter video yet.

At our last meeting, we came up with a plan. At this point, who doesn’t know how Kickstarter works? Do we really need to rehash the basics of pledging and timeline in another "Hi, here's our project" video? No. And since we’re a sketch comedy show, wouldn’t it make sense if our pitch video was itself a skit? You know, to give potential backers a sample of our style?

So we had a plan. Great! But who’s gonna write this thing? Up to the plate stepped Andy Dopieralski. He tapped the dirt from his cleats, said he’d take a “rough swing” at it—and hit it out of the goddamn park and across the parking lot, where it derailed a chemical train that careened into a nearby oil refinery. The explosion could be seen from space.

His script is squealingly funny, while also being super meta and somehow remaining completely on-point. It’s the filmic equivalent of bizarro fiction, more short film than skit, but if the goal is to be memorably unconventional, why stop there? Let’s salt the earth so that the audience never expects a traditional pitch video again. We’ll know by July 4 if it worked.

To the Grindstone Returneth My Nose

Alas, I must return to the tasks awaiting my attention. I’ll leave you with my favorite quote about creative endeavors. “To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan, and not quite enough time.” — Leonard Bernstein.

We’ve got the not enough time part down. The plan? Still going strong.

—Matt