"In the 30 years I've been in
this marketplace, there has
been an ongoing theme: How
do we keep business here?" he
said.
There's no easy answer. The
Midwest suffers from an iden-
tity problem, say Jan Lockwood
and Paul Martin of the Michi-
gan Department of Film. Any-
thing in between New York and
Hollywood is considered "fly-
over" territory. Backwater.
The film department was
amused, yet irritated, when ex-
ecutives from a high-falutin'
Hollywood production compa-
ny called the Lansing office to
say they had embarked on a
Baby Jessica movie that would
require actors to play Michiga-
nians. Exactly how do people in
Michigan dress?, the executives
wanted to know.
"They just don't have a pic-
ture of what we look like," Ms.
Lockwood says.
She is referring to more than
clothing. Many out-of-state film
companies are not aware of the
scenic northern Michigan vis-

Movies Of Race

An MS U student tackles issues on film.

D

JENNIFER FINER

JEWISH NEWS INTERN

avid Farbman's movie script has a message that most other films tend to avoid.
The 21-year-old Michigan State University student spent more than two years researching race
relations in Detroit. He then spent about 15 months writing his film, Brothers For Life.
"It's a very intense story," he said. "I wanted to convey what really goes on out there."
This Huntington Woods native's motive for writing screenplays stems from a desire to explain
the delicate nature of relations between blacks and whites. Mr. Farbman, who has friends in the city and
spends a lot of time there, wants to see Detroit more viable.
"I'm not out there trying to sell my script so I can get rich," he said. "I'm out there to convey a message
that this is real life. It goes much deeper than trying to break into Hollywood."
A couple of major Hollywood studios have complimented him on the script's dialogue but were hesitant
to purchase it because the film doesn't have the typical "happily ever after" ending, Mr. Farbman said.
Although frustrated, Mr. Farbman will not give up. He is confident he will find a producer.
"This is a must-make movie," he said. "The timing is so now. Unfortunately, Hollywood seems to want
to do movies that are cute love stories that don't deal with reality."U

Sweet
Success
Jim Burnstein will

see his "Renaissance Man" on marquees.

JENNIFER FINER JEWISH NEWS INTERN

lymouth Township writer Jim Burnstein
is Michigan's most recent movie- mak-
ing success, thanks to his screenplay Re-
naissance Man.
His script — a story about a Detroit
advertising executive forced to teach Shake-
speare on an army base — turned a lot of heads
in Hollywood. Touchstone Pictures bought the
rights.
Last summer, Penny Marshall, the dh-ector
ofRenaissance Man, brought a crew to Detroit
to film parts of the movie, including a scene at
Tiger Stadium.
"There is something in the film's opening
about Danny Devito going to work at the Re-
naissance Center," Mr. Burnstein said. "I'm
thrilled they did some filming here. It gives us
the sense of where this guy comes from."
Mr. Burnstein, who supports himself and
his family by his scripts alone, said it is pos-
sible for him to live in Michigan and work in
the movie industry because of the ties he has
in Ca lifornia.
"If I needed to move to L.A., I would have
done so 10 years ago," he said.
At that time, Mr. Burnstein got the idea to
write a screenplay based on his own experi-
ences teaching Shakespeare to solders at the
Selfridge Air National Guard Base.
After a decade of revisions, Mr. Burnstein
will finally see his first feature movie hit the
big screen when Renaissance Man is released

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next summer.
"This process was a lot like running a
marathon," he said. "When you talk about 10
years of ups and downs, by the time they start-
ed shooting I was exhausted and exhilarated."

tag, she says. They also don't re-
alize that Michigan is a rela-
tively permit-free state, which
means film crews can work here
without jumping through legal
hoops to set up shop.
Another deterrent to bring-
ing Hollywood to Michigan is
the perception that local play-
ers, who are largely unionized,
charge higher rates than right-
to-work states.
Not true, say representatives
of the local International Al-
liance of Theatrical Stage Em-
ployees (IA'rSE), a union of more
than 500 behind-the-camera
workers (excluding writers
and directors). Film industry
workers in Michigan charge 20
to 25 percent less
than their coun-
terparts on the
coasts and in
Chicago, according
to IATSE.
Despite the fact
that most oppor-
tunities in film ex-
ist in Los Angeles,
many Michigan
people — a num-
ber of whom are
Jewish — have
decided to concentrate their ef-
forts here. Many have reaped
success. There's Sue Marx,
who won an Academy Award
for her documetary drama,
Young At Heart. There's Acme
Productions, whose partners
are largely Jewish. The down-
town company capitalizes on
science fiction and horror
movies.
There also are video compa-
nies that film weddings, bar

mitvahs and other simchas, to
say nothing of gargantuan ad-
vertising-marketing companies
that run their own in-house firm
departments.
Ann Arbor's Nathan White,
36, wrote, directed and pro-
duced a full-length feature
film called The Carrier, which
appeared in box offices across
22 countries. Mr. White says
the realms of feature and in-
dustrial films are worlds
apart.
Yet, despite the fact that
Michigan's film niche is the lat-
ter, this state is, in some ways,
a better place than Los Angeles
to pursue a career in feature
films. Says Mr. White:
"I'm
not
much of an L.A.
groupie. I "Trite
a lot better in a
very Michigan-
type atmos-
phere where
people have
high characters
and there are
fewer distrac-
tions. There's
Nathan White something in
Los Angeles
that rots people's brains."
Joanne Goldberg, executive
administrator of DPA, sees a
productive future for the Michi-
gan film industry.
"I think people here in De-
troit work with each other.
There's a camaraderie here that
I don't think exists in other ar-
eas," she says. `The future holds
more work, more recognition.
We'll be bigger and stronger
than we were."

"I write a lot
better in a very
Michigan-type
atmosphere."

For Jim Bumsteln, of Plymouth, the work is paying off.

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