“As I lay me down to sleep, I prayed the lord my soul to keep… except for that fact that I sold that soul many many manic moons ago. However, after seeing how absolutely drop-dead fucking tits-brilliant every single sinful thing about this film has turned out, I might just be willing to buy it (the soul) back… and trade it to my fuzzy hot pink messiah man.”

AND NOW… THE EAR-BITING, ATTENTION-DISTRACTING, CHERRY-POPPING, SINFULLY STUNNING CONCLUSION TO THE LATEST “CHOOSE YOUR OWN” MAD ONES FILMS ADVENTURE!!!

A Frak Me Footnote: Pre-Post-Production & The Patron Saint of Lost Footage

And so after many moons of months of cartons of fifths of hyper manic and panic planning, it was all over… all gone… poof… big bada-boom, blown to bejeezus in a wet hot American whirlwind 96-hour wad. Cinéma vixena vérité at its fantasy finest! Like any self-respecting shag of intellectual intercourse, I never ever wanted it to stop. However, one of the pitfalls of indie filmmaking on an aglet of a shoestring of a budget is the matter of proper pecuniary payment (dollars, dinero, ducats) to offer such gracious guys and gals for their time, their talent, their fealty and their faith. Just the thought of maybe being able to someday, in a gyrating galaxy not so far away, have the financial fortitude to be able to offer my Mad Ones a fraction of what they’re worth, well… that would just make me tits-happy!

I really cannot believe how amazing even just the raw footage from Act III looks! Oh do we have such wild and wonderful things to show you, and praise be to our very own golden god (well, golden-skinned, and although slightly tarnished, that still counts), Mr. Sasanka “Brown Sugar” Chowdary, for giving us the very second chance to do just that. You see kids, supposedly one of the beautiful things about modern filmmaking is the need to no longer have to shell out exorbitant amounts of cash & eons of time to get your film developed. Nope, that tarted-up trollop, technology, has managed to reduce the real reel down to these handy little wee-sized half-pint itsy-bitsy cards that fit into surreptitiously into the cameras we use. We’ve gone from developing to dumping, and believe you me dear readers, there is an inherent artistry to both of them.

You see kids, whether it was the mind-numbing/body-rocking exhaustion of a 13-hour shooting schedule the day before, or quite possibly Gremlins are alive and well and broke into Casa Diablo for the sole purpose of committing half-pint hell-raising, for some reason or another, one of the SD cards didn’t get dumped from the previous day when it was loaded into the camera for the final shoot on Monday. And since the final day consisted of naught else but the aforementioned tits and the ever-loving tacos, our minds were a dash bit preoccupied as daydreams of swirly girlies danced in our heads. So after the shoot, when all the cards were accounted for, and all the shots were being logged, I knew something was rotten in the rojo ojo state of Denmark, when Kato called with the “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news” greeting. Because what that really means is “I’ve got bad news and I’ve got ‘Oh fuck me with a chainsaw’ bad news!”

And so without further adieu, Kato informs me that a good three to four hours worth of footage from the big head shop shoot out scene on Sunday, had apparently shuffled loose this cinematic mortal coil and made its way to heaven, as there was no way in hell it was here on earth. So there we were, the location of the scene in question already restored to its original state, some of the actors from said scene already shaved and shorn, and a task of Herculean proportions to try and reschedule a re-shoot and reclaim our lost footages.

However, it was amidst my preparations for cinematic seppuku that I decided to post the announcement of my impending doom due to said digital devastation. All of a sudden out of the binary blue, a single comment from an actual friend (not one of those people you’ve never actually bloody met before ever you just thought their faceyspacey profile picture looked tasty and so you fancied them) managed to ignite the smallest of sparks of hope by offering restoration and resurrection. So before I could shuffle loose this mortal coil, SD Cards were exchanged, nails were bitten, smokes were smoked, days turned into nights back into days (okay, so it was really just a good bad good 48 hours or so) but still to my slack-jawed surprise, Brown Sugar managed to rescue 99% of the missing footages… that beautiful glorious basterd!

While I’m sure it was as simple as some sort of evil genius download file that he extrapolated from the ethos of the InterWebs, I like to imagine it was a bit more complicated than that. Like he was standing atop a Mayan temple, in sun god-like robes, while thousands of nubile naked nymphs were bowing to him and throwing small pickles at his feet, while he sacrificed a golden goat to the heathen gods of long ago until they came down from the heavens and proceeded to melt the faces off of the infidels all Indiana Jones style. Yeah… he probably just downloaded something, but still this is America dammit, melty-face pissed off pagan paladins always make for a much better movie.

And so, after filming what is going to be our greatest cinematic creation to date, I can honestly say that I have been to the top of the mountain and it is a bodacious bedlam of babes and badasses, a fee-fi-fo-fum of filmmaking and fast times, and it is good ladies and gentlemen. With the wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey exception of a faithful flashback featuring a father, a son, and a holy ghost lurking ever so surreptitiously in the background that would be shot later – Mad Ones Films was officially done with principal filming for Act III.

So as the sun sets slowly in the West, I bid you a fond farewell. Now begins the exciting editing exodus, a rum-rich fun-filled 40 days and nights of FCP shenanigans, and a whole other longwinded loquacious lambast. For those of you who have stayed the course and are still reading this, you either have the patience of a saint or the perversion of a sinner, or quite possibly, a juke joint juxtaposition of the two.

Be good true believers, and keep the faith, for what is coming next will blow your mind, steal your heart, and kick your ass, and that’s before the opening credits are even finished. Hallelujah!

x6x6x6,
Jaysen P. Buterin,
Creative Director, Mad Ones Films

www.madonesfilms.com
www.hotpinkjesus.com

“So after a brief but frenzied field trip back to Greensboro to shoot a quick pick-up outside of The Hill, I dismissed the tired troops for as unfading and everlasting as they were, a 13-hour film set can exhaust even the most relentless of rogues in our gallery. And thus, the only ones for me caught some z’s with the sandman (or woman) of their choice, as visions of the following day’s tasty treats danced in their bed heads.”

AND NOW… THE EAR-BITING, ATTENTION-DISTRACTING, CHERRY-POPPING, SINFULLY STUNNING CONCLUSION TO THE LATEST “CHOOSE YOUR OWN” MAD ONES FILMS ADVENTURE!!!

And so it was that on the fourth day of principal filming, the hot pink velvetine son of God decreed that the souls of the ones who were mad, shall rest… however, being the diabolical director that I am, I decided to save the very best – and breast – for last. For our final day of filming was focused on one very specific and prolific extravaganza of erotic eateries. That’s right true believers, the light and the beauty and the glory that is “Max Diablo’s Tits & Taco-Rama” had finally arrived here on Earth. The culmination of exhilaration, the fruition of mammarian weapons of mass distraction, the catharsis of the gyrating genesis of taco-shelled titillation!

I’m not going to lie to you kids, cause that’s a sin you know… I love tacos. In fact, I’d daresay that I love tacos almost but not quite entirely unlike as much as I love tits – but in a totally different tasty treat kind of way. You ever try and motorboat a tray of tacos? Pick the wrong shell and you could lose an eye. However, I digress, as I’m wont to do about breasts. Hells belles, I’ve even gone so far as to make a lascivious and laundry list of all the types of tits that have I’ve grown to fancy over the years but you’ll just have to pay exxxtra special attention (tits ahoy) to Act III to catch that particular “Tit List”.

So I’m pretty sure that the only things my friends have really heard pouring forth from my big furry gob over the course of the last three years has been, “Blah blah blah tacos… meow meow meow tits… yadda yadda yadda Hot Pink Jesus… ,” and that’s not terribly far from the truth actually. So imagine, if you will, the look of excitement on my mug, when “T & T & A Day” finally reared it’s beautiful head and it was time to light the fuse! Because after spending many manic moons thinking, drinking and creating the world that would house the sin-soaked stage where the vixens of virtue and vixens of vice strutted their siren song in high heels for low lifes, the real titular titty twister is that I didn’t even get to really enjoy it!

Now don’t get me wrong dear readers, turning the Garage into Max Diablo’s Tits & Taco-Rama was, by far, the most fun and visually stimulating (amongst other sensory stimulations) Mad Ones set that I’ve ever had the good graces to run. In fact, I was the crazy cool captain of the big ship Lolly Tops, for everywhere I looked, as far as the dilated eye could, was nothing but a sea of tits, and it was a beautiful godsdamn thing. I’m quite sure that I’ll be number one with a bullet on several of my friends XXX-Mas card lists, for some of those varmints got a four-hour lap dance AND tacos FOR FREE! While I, on the other hot little hand, being the dutifully diligent and decadent director, had to settle for sneaking side glances of side boobs as I directed an unfolding scene of the utmost sinful and sensoury debauchery that even a dirty young man like me could imagine.

Of course, it wasn’t all side-boob snucken (just for you baby) glances, as there were several instances where I had to “direct” the dancers on what I wanted for the scene and since there was no bloody point in covering up since uncovering was illicitly imminent, there I was face to… well, tits, with some of the most vivacious vixens the Triad has to offer. Sometimes, it’s really really really good to be the king.

So we got all of our establishing shots, and multiple takes from every (well, almost every) conceivable angle of my usual prurient & prolix style of crucial tongue-in-cheek/tongue-in-taco dialogue. With that out of the way, what ensued can only begun to be described as the “batshite b-roll bevy of boobs extravaganza”. For those of you scratching your heads trying to figure out what, in the bloodiest of hells I’m talking about (much like this entirely way too long directorial diatribe) this was when I put a camera in damn near every available crew members hand, cued up “Have Love, Will Travel” and told DJ Miguelito to pump up the volume. We then proceeded to run around like horny headless chickens filming close-up shots of tits, tacos, dancers, dancees, and even more tits. As if I didn’t have a big boy crush on Robert Rodriguez already, there was actually one point when the song stopped and as everyone paused momentarily, unsure as to what may come next, my diabolical bellow of “KEEP FILMING!!!” offered the right hedonistic homage to keep the talent shaking their proverbial moneymakers for another four minutes.

And so, ladies & gentlemen, we called the proverbial “martini shot” and afterwards several other shots (as well as beers, drinks and more beers) were had. The air was an aromatic mélange of sex, tacos, smoke & lust. In fact, the sexual tension was so thick, so palpable, so distracting, that by the time that everyone left, I’m quite surprised they managed to wait long enough to actually get in their cars before succumbing to the coming of the wowsers in their trousers. But then again, what do you expect when you subject an already deviant crowd to several hours of sin-soaked sexually-charged hedonistic honeycomb hideout hijinks?

Hell, we’re probably lucky that no “immaculate conceptions” occurred… for strange things can soon become afoot when those feet are attached to bodies forced to watch drop dead gorgeous swirlie girlies dancing the body electric, all for a bloke who looks like Jesus, all in the name of Hot Pink Jesus. And so my band of merry Mad Ones disbanded for the evening, off to seek solace, shelter, and (more than likely) salvation in the comfort of their real grown-up lives that pays the bills and passes the time (and calms the mind riot) in between MOF shoots. As I lay me down to sleep, I prayed the lord my soul to keep… except for that fact that I sold that soul many many manic moons ago. However, after seeing how absolutely drop-dead fucking tits-brilliant every single sinful thing about this film has turned out, I might just be willing to buy it (the soul) back… and trade it to my fuzzy hot pink messiah man.

Holy Hells & Hallelujah!
x6x6x6,
Jaysen

TUNE IN TOMORROW TRUE BELIEVERS FOR PART IV OF THE HPJ III PRODUCTION BLOG… now filmed live in front of a studio audience.

www.madonesfilms.com
www.hotpinkjesus.com

“With filming wrapping just after midnight, and just before the heavens opened up and washed away all the day’s sins, a cheers and a toast danced in the weary cast & crew heads, all snug as bugs in rugs, asleep in their beds.”

AND NOW… THE CHAIN-SMOKING, PULSE-POUNDING, TACO-TASTING, BUM-SPANKING, SINFULLY STUNNING CONCLUSION TO THE LATEST “CHOOSE YOUR OWN” MAD ONES FILMS ADVENTURE!!!

And so lo and behold, upon our rousing from Saturday night’s slumber, we awoke to find it Sunday… the Lord’s Day, or in our spiritually savvy case, the Hot Pink Lord’s Day – and the longest, most laborious day of the entire shoot! For those of you lucky enough to bear witness to the revealing rapture of the 48 Hour Film Project version of HPJ, you know how the original story ends – with a big bang shootout! Now for the super-sized Trilogy version, take said big bang, multiply it exponentially, take it from the counter outside of Robert Rodriguez’s kitchen, place it lovingly inside Michael Bay’s Easybake Oven and let Tarantino lick off the icing, and that’s how tasty of a treat this violent video vittle is going to be! Now it was time to bring in the big guns, point them straight at your heart, blow you a kiss and pull the trigger! And this particular big gun walks softly, carries a big-ass medieval spiked club AND boom stick, and goes by the name of Keenan… Patrick Keenan, aka “Lou Angeline”!!!

After taking our precious coffee communion at Area 51 and with the rich, aromatic body of Christ flowing thru our virtue & vice veins, I led an excited exodus around the corner to our first shooting location at One-Eyed Willie’s joint. With a holy hustle and a fun-filled flow myself, Kato, Señor Chao, Mikey, Jesse, K2B2, Beth & Lando managed to transform our hypnotic boutique into the illegal limbo known as “The Green Couch,” right as our almighty actors filed in for their final costumed countdown. Patrick Keenan had the silver-tongued charm of a snake oil salesman (and the facial hair of a Victorian vagabond), while Christy had Faith looking hotter than Georgia asphalt. Todd (as Rudy Valentine) brought a brand new trailer trash sophistication to track suits and Gavin (as my dapper doppelgänger) was pretty as a picture…a big ass ese, gun-toting, taco-obsessed, cozy little job with the Mexican mob-having picture.

So there we were, knee-deep and tits-up in the middle of a triangular firepower-fueled Mexican stand-off…technically sans any Mexicans (sorry Cholo, you’re blanco buddy, deal with it), but still, one of the most beautifully shot very best pieces of violence yours truly has ever been privy to. Tempers were flaring and trigger fingers were itchy while Faith was incredulously staring and Valentine got all twitchy – all culminating in an explosive and deadly denouement.

The Special FX/Make-up mastery of one Mr. Joh Harp, illusionist of the incredible, maestro of the macabre, and all-around cool cat, is another boastful notch on our Hot Pink headboard because it is his visual voodoo that shines like a crazy blood diamond when the gun smoke clears. One of the sanguine side effects of mixing even more bullets in with our booze is that those bullets tend to leave people much holier when “CUT” is called as opposed to “ACTION”. However in just a short time Joh and his lovely assistant, Nathan “Boom Boom” Boyd, generated a gory goodness that would make even the big boys of Hollyweird all mean-green with envy!

So how do I repay Joh and Nathan for such astounding aesthetic application of artistry? By sticking them both in warm and wooly ski masks and making them flee down the sidewalk in the cool mid-May mid-dasy sun while Patrick chases them with Mr. Bang Bang, of course! Now being the brilliant multitasking basterds that we are, Kato and Jesse headed outside to finish filming scene 3 with Marco while Mikey and I stayed inside with Faith and shot the very first scene of the film drop dead last – movie-making magic indeed!

Proof positive of the hot pink hive mind, both crews reunited (and it does feel so good) outside, called it a wrap and struck (not smote) the set. We hopped, skipped & jumped back over to Area 51 with just enough time to smoke ‘em, suck ‘em, and swallow – up their cigarettes, down their drinks, and “their food” of course… you dirty dirty monkeys, but I like where your minds went. That’s good because you’re going to need that kind of trailer park Byronic gypsy/tramp/thief streetsmarts, for the next stop on our magical mystery tour is the East Eden Trailer Park!

One of the monumental movie-making tall-building single-bound leaps we made going from Act I to Act III is an age-old universal adage… locations, locations, locations! Now, I’ve always been a fortunate son in the good graces of the film gods when it comes to finding damn near the perfect scene setting – or as close to perfect as filmmaking on an aglet of a shoestring of a budget will allow. But for Act III I needed something, somewhere truly spectacular… enter, stage left, one Ms. Beth Compton, lady luck location scout extraordinaire who led us out to Points on High where we filmed a very vital scene in the trailer park of my lawn dart heart dreams!

So there we were a mere hour or two later, deep in the tattooed heart of the “East Eden Trailer Park,” home (on wheels) to the big-dreaming grand-scheming Valentines. What followed was one of the most cinematically concupiscible shoots I have ever conducted, especially since I spent the first fraction of my formative years growing up in trailer parks. In fact, Todd and Lea’s powerhouse performance was so perfect, their chemistry so convincing on screen that for a shining second, I fully believed he was a former lawn dart champion and she a jaded jezebel slinging tacos in a titty bar!

Luckily for all souls involved, cherry red apocalypse or no, not a single land shark was spotted in the vicinity and the filming finished fantastically! So after a brief but frenzied field trip back to Greensboro to shoot a quick pick-up outside of The Hill, I dismissed the tired troops for as unfading and everlasting as they were, a 13-hour film set can exhaust even the most relentless of rogues in our gallery. And thus, the only ones for me caught some z’s with the sandman (or woman) of their choice, as visions of the following day’s tasty treats danced in their bed heads.

TUNE IN TOMORROW TRUE BELIEVERS FOR PART IV OF THE HPJ III PRODUCTION BLOG… now filmed live in front of a studio audience.

Holy Hells & Hallelujah!
x6x6x6,
Jaysen

www.madonesfilms.com
www.hotpinkjesus.com

AND NOW… THE HAIR-PULLING, NAME-CALLING, PANTY-DROPPING, NIP-SLIPPING, SINFULLY STUNNING CONCLUSION TO THE LATEST “CHOOSE YOUR OWN” MAD ONES FILMS ADVENTURE!!!

If the early bird gets the worm then the late bird gets to sleep off the katzenjammer cloud of a Mariachi hangover, then fly over to Area 51, which was also serving as our 2nd floor underground lair for the next two days due to its immediate proximity to our locations.

So while we got started filming the last scene of the film first, a lovely little exchange between star-crossed lovers in a stairway to heaven, or at the very least Faith, the rest of the MOF inmates relaxed in our state-of-the-commedia dell’arte green room – which was technically the front yard, the sidewalk and the #4 flat inside. We wrapped the stairwell scene, graciously filmed at Re:Cycles, and proceed to make the long trek to the next location – all the way up the stairs and next door. Christy Johnson, the sultry sexy siren playing Faith then proceeds to razzle and dazzle the fanboys at Parts Unknown into a near nerdgasm with her real live girl parts, before absconding with “El Jefe” and running away like a steel-toed girl on a Saturday night looking for the taco of her life.

After a brief break for the shoveling of food into gobs and the washing of libations down gullets, I gathered the second wave of HPJ crusaders for the roadside rabblerousing portion of the evening’s filming. Personally and professionally I was tits-excited as all get out because it meant the chance to once again work with Todd Fisher (a talent of unlimited depth and the only ancestral actor left from the primordial 48 Hour HPJ). It also gave me the opportunity to direct the lovely and luxurious lass Lea Beighley, who had never acted for me before, and the dashing devil Gavin Glass, who had never acted for anyone before!

So there we are, shooting street-side at one of the busier intersections, and outside of one of the rowdier bars, in all of Greensborodom. Now one of the bombshell beauties of making indie films is that it often sometimes means doing things slightly less than completely official, and perchance, legal. Therefore we can’t afford to block off city streets, clear out public areas, or pay police to police – our only real security being an Assistant Director with an impressively intimidating physical stature and a manic Director with a chip on his tattooed shoulder the size of Pangea. Needless to say, such mercy at so many different public x factors means that damn near every juiced-up jackass, drunken delinquent, or passed-over prom queen will invariably want to stagger into the scene for their close-up… or offer moral support in their best outdoor bellow/scream/wail/shriek.

However, the gods of film were indeed smiling upon us, for we were able to get the long laundry list of shots that I wanted, lit almost the way that Senor Chao wanted, shot the way that Jesse and Mikey wanted. Todd, Lea & Gavin performed far beyond my expectations and continued to do so all weekend. With filming wrapping just after midnight, and just before the heavens opened up and washed away all the day’s sins, a cheers and a toast danced in the weary cast & crew heads, all snug as bugs in rugs, asleep in their beds.

TUNE IN TOMORROW TRUE BELIEVERS FOR PART III OF THE HPJ III PRODUCTION BLOG… now filmed live in front of a studio audience.

Holy Hells & Hallelujah!

AND NOW… THE NAIL-BITING, CHAIN-SMOKING, JAW-DROPPING, NIP-SLIPPING, EDGE OF YOUR SEAT GRIPPING, SINFULLY STUNNING CONCLUSION TO THE LATEST MAD ONES FILMS ADVENTURE!!!

The answer was easy… the answer was… more. More. Mas. Più. Mehr. 更多. More booze, more bullets and the hottest, pinkest, most ass-kickingest, name-takingest Jesus that we could resurrect (again) to be the saviour of your bad behaviour. But we didn’t stop there… nay, we couldn’t stop there… in fact, dammit, we dare not stop there, for our very cinematic souls were on the line now. And so not only did we go with a cooler Canon camera choice, but we also turned a much more meticulous eye towards lighting design and sound engineering – a holy trinity of hell-raising issues that we experienced the first go-round on Act I.

But still, even that was not nearly enough… we needed to take a leap of filmmaking faith, and so I added several new auspiciously amazing acting inmates to the already stunning thespianic MOF menagerie. Talent of the highest calibre, the toppest notch, and the baddest ass was found in the forms of Christy Johnson, Patrick Keenan and Lea Beighley – as well as Gavin Glass and Erny Galvan, who (while still whiskey wet behind the acting ears) brought Cholo and Marco (respectively and reflectively) to ferocious life. Thus, with the stage set, and the sets dressed, and the actors dressed as the characters, and the characters poised in place on our sin-soaked stage (see there, circle of life), principal photography began on “Act III: Have Faith, Will Travel.” Now… step into the principal’s office…

Day I: Inchworms, Rock & Roll, and Mariachi… Oh My!
And so, after what felt like 40 sleepless nights, that first day of filming was upon us like a biblical plague! After many mesonoxian hours spent laboriously lucubrating over scenes and schedules, I had our entire shoot condensed into four fun-filled days. However, like the good book says, slow and steady wins the race (if the “good book” in this instance is a Saturday morning Bugs Bunny cartoon), and so we started off our Friday with essentially the first two scenes of the film.

The first squad of cinematic super soldiers gathered at Area 51, the up-till-recently raucous residence of Stumbles & Freckles, whose boudoir served as the cherry-popping location for Act III filming. After getting the scene set, lit, and ready to go we commence with a scantily-clad and curvaceous Christy (aka, Faith) waking from her noon-day slumber to discover some rather illicit insights into her boyfriend’s infidelity. So after unleashing the inchworm from its slumber, she dons additional scraps of clothing and speeds off into the stone-setting sun to confront said infidel.

(Alas, I dare not divulge too much more, lest I risk being keelhauled by my own edict for sailing the seas of spoilers… nevertheless, let’s just say that the Great Alabaster Inchworm steals the scene, if not your hearts, with its everyman struggle for freedom)! With scene 1 in the proverbial bag, or snare drum case as it were, we tarted up and darted off for the second location of day – a lovely little bohemian enclave full of little boxes for big bands to play bad beats in. Joined by the lovely lads in The Animal Mothers (née Silver Bullet née Starlyn Garvy) who riotously portrayed our rockers & rollers, a scene of utter foolishness, fidelity, and phalluses unfolded before our very eyes… in exactly that order. By this time the merciless backbeat of the afternoon sun, even for those shooting inside the great easy bake oven of a storage space, had won and so the gear was broken down, the toys put away and the actors dismissed while several of the MOF inmates and I prepped the location at Re:Cycles for the next day’s shoot.

For a first day, it went fantastically and phenomenally well. Two scenes down, 23 more to go… hallelujah! But rather than let the man and his stupid math get me down (where’s your metrics system now you Orwellian wanker? Oh yeah, everywhere else in the world but here…), instead I re-convened my Cinderella cast and my motley crew at El Mariachi later that evening for levity, libations, and of course, live mariachi music! Many laughs were shared, many beers were had, and many noble and brave tacos offered up their lives, so that the Gospel of Hot Pink Jesus could be spread another day.

TUNE IN TOMORROW TRUE BELIEVERS FOR PART II OF THE HPJ III PRODUCTION BLOG… filmed live in front of a studio audience.

Holy Hells & Hallelujah!

But that would just be a flat-out fucked-up lie, for you see, the three chorded-red guitared truth of the matter is that we’ve been batshite busy filming the greatest story ever told!!! That’s right faithful readers, the greatest sin-soaked spiritually salvational story ever told in this golden age of apocalyptic afflatus… “Have Faith, Will Travel.” And so the son of God that is hot and that is pink decreed that Act III of ‘The Gospel According to Booze, Bullets & Hot Pink Jesus,” would wrap principal photography in a swirly girlie whirley-wind four-day film shoot! That’s right boys and girls, the shocking and stunning cinematic conclusion to the epic Shakespearean spaghetti western short film trilogy is effectively in the proverbial can, save for one last majorly minor flashback scene left to film.

But, “what the frak” you say? “What the deuce happened to Act II?? Where did number II go?! Doesn’t II still come after I, and why in the metrics-asskicking-hell are we using Roman numerals anyway?!?” Well, tattooed truth be told, I fully intended to shoot the HPJ Trilogy in numerical succession, and Act II was circling over my head like an almighty albatross (which was indeed a good luck charm until some idiot went and shot it… the bird, not the film, but we’re getting to that).

Luckily for me, I’d had the two male lead roles cast long in advance – I only need seek out the female lead, one Diana Maria Guillermos. As luck would have it, I found such a thespianic talent in the guise of one Ms. Elise DuQuette. As bad luck would have it, I immediately lost the aforementioned two male leads due to scheduling snafus. So there I was, shot down in a blaze of glory due to the most castigating of casting catastrofucks, with principal filming dates already set. Yet, it was amidst my preparations for Seppuku, that a dash-clever and daring idea sucker-punched me in the back of the head like a bare-knuckle boxer of an epiphany: To hell with linear progression, to hell with proper numerical succession, and to the very deepest darkest pit of hell with math (which I was never good at any way)! And so the decision was made to skip Act II, go directly to Act III, and with the grace of the gods of film, maybe pass Go and collect $200!!!

Though history repeats itself, sometimes viciously, easily enough, it is not always the easiest teacher to learn from… especially when foolishly inconsistent hobgoblins run amok in the mind. So when the time finally arrived so auspiciously, to commence pre-production planning for Act III, I found myself faced with a very simple, very dire dilemma… hard shell or soft? After ordering my tacos at my beloved El Mariachi (my very own bonito bandito honeycomb hideout), I was plagued by yet another brain-buggerer: how, in the sphincter of hell, was I going to bottle the lightning (from Act I) a second time for this third act, and a third time for the second act after that? The answer was easy… the answer was…

Oh bugger… so I just now realised that it’s been 666 words and I have yet to actually talk about the very thing I sat down to talk about in the first place. Further proof positive, I suppose, that writers/directors shouldn’t be allowed to wear too many hats, no matter how gargantuan their cranium may physically be. So tune in next week, same batshite crazy time/same batshite crazy channel for the nail-biting, chain-smoking, edge-of-your-seat, grippingly tantalising & theorising conclusion to the latest Mad Ones adventure!

x6x6x6,
Jaysen Buterin,
Creative Director, Mad Ones Films

The first thirteen rejection letters can be a bit hard to take, especially when they are from our very own backyard. However, after that rejection cherry is popped, the feeling of dejection becomes commonplace, and consequently, begins to hurt less. After “The Missionary Man” had been rejected by so many relevant film festivals, we changed our strategem and decided to screen the movie at various Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Fandom conventions, as we always seem to do well with that particular demographic. Maybe it’s the permanent “Nerd Stamp” that is subliminally attached to our Ids and SuperEgos, but Jaysen and I are both comfortable amongst geeks, nerds, dorks, dweebs, spazzes, and all manner of inkhorns and philomaths. This resulted in our Tenneessee world premiere screening of “The Missionary Man” at ConNooga, with a Charlotte premiere screening also set for Con Carolinas in early June.

So, imagine our surprise when we received an email missive from the Cape Fear Independent Film Festival indicating that they had accepted our film for their 11th annual competition. After shedding our initial disbelief and making sure that it actually said “accepted”, and confirming that the letter was indeed meant for us and not another Hot Pink Jesus film, we were thrilled and excited for the selection! We had finally shed that albatross that hung so uncomfortably around our neck. So, we get up one Friday in early May, and head down to Wilmington for the weekend. After receiving our badges, we drink a warm-up beer at the SoapBox, and then hit the filmmakers’ lounge, where free Fat Tire beer will be flowing on tap all weekend. Needing refreshment and some air conditioning, we check in at the Holiday Inn and rest up for the evening.

Friday night was the slower night, with less screenings planned, and a less rigorous schedule for the filmmakers. Jaysen and I mill about Grace Street, getting our bearings, and sharing the gospel of Hot Pink Jesus. We meet several folks, and things start kicking once our friend Greg Jaeger arrives. He DJs the karaoke session at the Browncoat, we drink mad amounts of ale, and carouse like hooligans until last call. Jaysen and I get back to the hotel room, crash hard, and wake up ready for Saturday. We spend the day socializing with other film makers, drinking beer, and watching movies. We get excited as the day progresses, and by the time our 7pm screening rolls around, the sidewalk is jam packed with bodies. In what we have playfully dubbed the “Festival Fire Code” screening, we sold out the show and “The Missionary Man” Headlined the screening. That was quite an honour, and we got amazing feedback about our movie. People felt very passionately about HPJ1, and we had several festival staff and volunteers state how glad they were that our film was selected for the festival. I saw several such instances of this with Jaysen, and it was really amazing (albeit occasionally unsettling from time to time) to see that look of calm reward in Jaysen’s eyes. We have all worked so very hard (and he has worked even harder than that) to spread the Gospel to as many faraway places as humanly and divinely possible, and finally, we had some small instance of it paying off. That felt amazing, and rightly so.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay for the Awards Ceremony that transpired Sunday night, as we both had business (real grown-up jobs, lives, bill-paying etc.) back in Greensboro. We talked to Tim Parker, Cape Fear Festival Organizer and friend of HPJ, and he indicated that we had been picked as a “Finalist” for an award, but hadn’t actually won one – always the bridesmaid never the bride. Not that we really expected to win an award, as Hot Pink Jesus has often and long labored in an “award-ignored” status. We have another chapter “in the can” waiting for editing, and now that we have shed the Festival Albatross, plans are moving forward for more film fest submissions. We have finished principal photography for Act III of the HPJ Trilogy, “Have Faith, Will Travel,” and are excited to bring that to the shining gospel light of the silver screen sometime before the end of the year. In the meantime, the inner sanctum of A/V inmates will be logging and sorting footage, reveling in “tits and tacos,” and offering their karate chop editing skills to make the best damn film that MOF has ever made… yet!

Stay tuned for future updates and prognostications. Holy hells & hallelujah!
J. Evan Wade & Jaysen Buterin

Con Nooga was Mad Ones Films’ sixth “Con” as media guests, and we were tickled hot pink at the possibility of adding this Tennessee convention to our annual plans. Our friends in The Adrenalin Group (also known as “the Mad Ones Films of Sanford”) had referred us to the Con Nooga organisers, and we were grateful to be included. We had a nice prime-time Saturday screening for “The Missionary Man” in the Imperial Ballroom, and plenty of time to schmooze and wow the Convention attendees beforehand. We set up our table, merchandise, and television and mingled with the first flourishing guests of the convention. We soon meet a lovely London lad by the name of Jason B. Carter who was serving as one of the main “media guests” for the Con, for the film “The Dead Matter.” Stationed directly across from Jason throughout the Con, we soon find that our tastes in humour, philosophy, and charming Con “chicanery” nicely overlap. At 6:00 pm, the Exhibitors Hall closes, and we begin preparations for the first night at Con Nooga. Jaysen has a panel at 8:00 pm on “Indie FilmMaking,” so we make it to that panel, then attend the “sneak premiere” screening of “A Few Brains More,” presented by our friends in The Adrenalin Group. After some good natured laughs, we head back to Room #1022, and cavort and carouse like maniacs until early in the morning.

An excellent Bojangles biscuit run cures the morning hangover along with a shot of the hair of the dog that we call Rum, and we head over to the Exhibitor Center by 11 am. We were a little late in getting started that morning, but one only had to look at the two handles of Firefly and Sailor Jerry to see the reasoning for our delay. Once we make it to the Exhibitors Hall, we go into “salesman” mode. We had our fair share of curious onlookers the night before, but now, we have to “sell” the movie. It’s a pretty easy sell, to be honest. Our red-headed Co-Founder, who could easily double as a “Hooters” girl if she weren’t so damn smart, speaks to everyone. She speaks to StormTroopers, Mandalorians, Anime kids, pretty much everyone… well, except for the Furriers… we still don’t know what to make of them, creepy buggers, the lot of them. We take turns at the table, and spend the afternoon encouraging Con attendees to forsake the Hotel party for 60 minutes, and come see our the cinematic second coming of Hot Pink Jesus. As the day progresses, Jaysen gets more and more manic and maniacally anxious, anticipating the night’s screening.

However, even Buterin’s upside down frown turned up at the dimpled corners when Andy Kahn, the actor who played Mr. Michaels (and one of the original Mad Ones), shows up at the Convention with his brother, Bill, and future sister-in-law, Christina. Andy had not seen the film since the original premiere screening back in September, and we had spent oodles of hours and miles and miles tweaking the green screen footage, working on audio levels, and polishing the finale since then. Andy had driven up from Alabama that morning, and we were thrilled that he was going to see his hard work in a more polished format. We close up our table at 6:00 pm, and began plans for the evening. We have a few hours to kill, so we go decorate the hotel room for our sinful little soiree, have another drink (or six), and watch our fearless leader doing his paces. We head over to the Imperial Ballroom, trying to wrangle a few more attendees for our screening, promising them one last opportunity to “Save Their Soul.”

Jaysen does his last minute checks, ensuring audio levels and playability of the DVD, smokes nearly an entire pack of smokes while wrestling with the Kraken, and then takes his place on the podium. After hearing stories all day about panels that only had “two attendees,” we were a little nervous about attendance for the screening – especially with the legendary Con Nooga room parties kicking off into high hedonistic gear. We told ourselves we would be happy with 10 people in the audience, so when we counted upwards of 30 people in attendance, there was relief all the way around. We screen a selection of previews (including the newly – not nudely – created “Nymphomercials,” and then proceed with “The Missionary Man.” After the film plays, we get a warm round of applause (much of it from fellow filmmakers who attended), and the look of relief in Jaysen’s face was evident. Now, it’s time to party!!!

We close up shop, and head back to host “The Post-Apocalyptic Pajama Party,” which we agreed to when asked to join the Con. We were all positively giddy at this point, and proceeded to carouse like a bunch of savages in a shiny new town, serving up Brain Juice while it lasted, and consuming as much Jello Brains as possible after that. The antics of the evening prove to be hilarious and hijink-full. From naked hot tub crashers to Sapphic shenanigans, the after party took on a libertine life of its own. The Mad Ones carried the torch until 5 in the morning, leaving Jaysen alone to patrol the late night, like a sentry of sarcasm. Not surprising, he has a panel later that morning at 10 am, and yet somehow manages to sleep a couple of hours before leaving. The rest of us stumble around the hotel room, recollecting our belongings, looking for any brain cells that may have been lost over the weekend. Tragically, none could be found.

We get the room cleaned, check out, and then head back to the Exhibitors Center. We have two last hours there before the Convention closes, and we manage to sell a couple of “The Devil’s Tramping Ground” DVDs that we have left. Once we close up shop, we load the van, and make our way back towards the highway. For all the relish and verve we had on Friday, we have lost our sparkle to the haze of a convention hangover and three-day full-frontal nerdity bender. After several pit stops, including a world-changing taco run at Jack in the Box for JB, we finally made our mad way back to Greensboro, and were quite thankful to get home all safe and sound-like.

In rabblerousing retrospect, Mad Ones Films had an absolutely amazing time at Con Nooga, and hopes that this will prove to be the first of many Tennessean convention adventures that we share. We want to thank the Con organizers for hosting, running and administrating such a successful event and for inviting us! We would also like to thank The Adrenalin Group for their help and encouragement in getting us in the door. The gyrating gears and wild wheels are already turning towards next year’s convention, and the inmates running the cinematic asylum over at Mad Ones Films look forward to making an even bigger sinful splash next year. We hope to see you there!

- J. Evan Wade & Jaysen Buterin

We met at our secret honeycomb hideout, otherwise known as Vang Manor on January 22nd to shoot some candid behind-the-scenes footage, and talking about everyone’s favorite film pariahs, the Mad Ones. It was a full collection of Mad miscreant malcontents, with Jaysen, Jennie, Jesse, Burton, Chao, Money, Mikey, and Evan hanging in the Devil’s Den (our beloved barroom from “The Missionary Man,”) smoking cigarettes and drinking beverages of levity and mirth. After making two hours of off-the cuff comments, burps, fart jokes, and self-celebratory comments (for the making of a five-minute extra, we might add), we dispersed for the afternoon. We had laughed and joked all day, and that has been good for the team, but we have a sinfully delicious set planned for the morning, so prurient priorities prevail.

We arrive at the O’Gara residence shortly before the waning of the easy AM Sunday morning (yes, more HPJ spirituality on the Lord’s Day… does that really surprise you?). The morning provided some interesting curve balls (almost sending an already manic director into full-blown panic mode), but a last minute casting need came through successfully! Jaysen had been envisioning filming an “extra” for the Hot Pink Jesus Trilogy that blended the sleaze of a late night phone sex operator commercial with a sense of campy daring, and psychic siren fun. The project had been delayed from late 2010, and since we knew this project would be incredibly fun to watch, let alone shoot, we put it on the plate for this weekend. Plus, with the talents and assets of the lovely Michelle Deighton and Amanda Harman so nicely displayed, we figured this would make excellent promotional footage.

Our motley crew sets up for filming, and the titillating talent arrives at Noon. In what might be considered a miracle to any teenager, or to any Stormtrooper geek or nerd herd at the DragonCon, both of our stars were in corsets and panties within 15 minutes of their arrival… Or at least that’s the way it seemed… we’re not really sure, we got kind of… distracted. We make light of the situation, laughter prevails, eye contact is maintained at all times… well, most times, and we get to work. We avoid the catastrophe, but nearly cause problems, when a plastic lid from the veggie tray inadvertently gets torched on the stove. After flailing like mad men to get rid of the smoke, we return to the bawdy business of filming footage for “1-900-HOT-PINK.”

Both actresses offer exhilarating and excellent performances in satirizing the late night naughty 900 number commercials of the late 1980s. Deliveries are exaggerated, responses are overplayed, but when eyes wink, and licks are lipped, we realise this may be the most fun film set EVER! After swooning and crooning through their lines, playing with feathers in a pillow fight, a battle of champagne is uncorked for the hot tub footage upstairs. After completing their scenes with breathy, wonderful abandon, our sultry actresses dressed, and even more laughter prevailed. It had been a truly fun day on set, and the married Mad men all spoke with gusto of returning home to their respective, lovely lasses. And with the blood red sun setting slowing in the West, another day on set with the Mad Ones came to an end. Hallelujah!

We will be taking the footage to the editing room to complete before February 17th, when we depart for Con Nooga. We have every illicit intention of making the trek up to Chattanooga with a whole new plethora of Mad Ones Films and Hot Pink Jesus propaganda. But that’s a tawdry tale best saved for next time. In the meantime, we wish a Happy Birthday to our fearless leader, everyone’s favourite misanthrope, Mr. Jaysen Buterin, who has completed 35 dastardly, twisted cycles around the sun… May he have many more…

Until next time…
As JB would say…
“Vaya con Diablos!!!”

X6x6x6,
Evan, a.k.a. “Stumbles” & Jaysen, a.k.a. “Sunshine”

Dig on the digital decadent goodness of our brand new Con Nooga exclusive teaser for ‘The Missionary Man’!!!

Although there were still hours of tweaking and adjustment to be done, we were pleased with the response at The Garage, and thankful for the 125 different sets of eyes that came to view our work. Jaysen is never one to rest on his libertine laurels for long, so he rallied forces and jumped into additional editing and adjusting, resulting in a finer, tighter package [editorial giggle… Evan said “tighter package”] that was screened to literally scores of filmgoers at the first annual Cine-Scream, held at Tate Street Coffee in late October. We celebrated hard work with good colleagues & great friends alike, drank Hot Pink Banzai Kamikazes at our dear hangout haunt – New York Pizza, and cavorted like any self-respecting hedonistic hooligans one week before Halloween.

Due to the kindness of the faithful attendees from The Garage screening, we were able to raise over $500, money that has been a much needed boon to our advertising efforts for Act I and the remaining installments of the Hot Pink Jesus Trilogy. We used those funds to pay for a final sound engineering session for HPJ (courtesy of Blake Faucette), and to pay entry fees for several fantastic film festivals. With entry fees paid for SXSW, Strange Beauty, River Run, Carolina Film and Video, among others, we anxiously await word on our travel plans for Spring 2011. We have been accepted into the Con Nooga Film Festival in early Spring, and hope that will be the first of many festival acceptances for “The Missionary Man.” With our original cycle of submissions completed, we’re still slaving away researching possible additional festivals, and hoping for even more almighty screening opportunities in that arena.

With the lovable lunatic gears turning in our fearless leader’s mind, Jaysen has been strategising our film schedule for the next year. We are anxious to move forward with the ‘Gospel According to Booze, Bullets & Hot Pink Jesus’ Trilogy, but are also desirous of another project to fill in the gaps in the meantime. Jaysen has been plotting short storylines with local filmmaker, Louis Bekoe, and the possibility for a short “Winter” project seems possible there. Jaysen has also begun dissection and analysis of his screenplay for Act II of the HPJ Trilogy (“A Saint of Sin in a Den of Thieves”), so the massive amount of pre-planning necessary for such a feat is under way there as well. We will soon begin the casting process, rehearsing, and wrangling locations for the next chapter, and are excited and challenged by the work load ahead. We dare not dream of losing momentum and, besides, there’ll be plenty time enough for sleep when we’re dead.

In the meantime, we wish everyone a happy Holiday season, and look forward to the prurient promise of 2011! 2010 has proven to be a most manic momentous year for the rock & roll pirates of Mad Ones Films. With the conception and quickly creative completion of “The Decapitator” and “The Missionary Man,” our films have exhibited a gigantic amount of growth this year. The completion of “The Missionary Man” was particularly momentous and rewarding, as it represents our best work and is our longest, most involved piece to date, even surpassing the days of “The Devil’s Tramping Ground.” Many many thanks must go out to all our families, friends, fans, colleagues, patrons and everyone in between and we look forward to more good news and more forward momentum than a bat out of Hell in 2011!

Jaysen Buterin & J. Evan Wade,
Co-Founders, Mad Ones Films – www.madonesfilms.com