Stepping Out

His voice sounded like it came from the other end of a long, endless pipeline that was located in another universe – far, far away. He asked us whether we would film the community play at the local center. Cute, we thought. My husband was directing network TV shows and shadowing on Alias and CSI. We heard him out and then suggested he get one of the volunteer youth to do the filming. Anyone can operate a handy-cam these days.

We were filmmakers and this was Hollywood. In those days, before coming to South Africa, we were signed with big agencies that represented big names. We took meetings with big people and drank coffee from big cups at industry venues in town. We went to sleep to the image of our names on the silver screen and woke up with the hope of receiving that call or making that deal that would take things to the next level. A video at the local community center was not part of the picture.

And could you blame us? I have seen some of the most vocal Hollywood critics melt at the prospect of being recognized by the great dream machine that is Tinseltown. If you offered any one of them a 3-picture deal with Paramount, their knees would buckle. This town will do that to you and in some ways, rightly so. Hollywood has created some of the most memorable and universally recognizable stories, characters and moments. Who wouldn’t want their work to have that kind of impact?

I still remember the phone call from our friend. He paused on the other end of the line, which had just grown even longer. I could have sworn he was in East Timor. Funny enough he wasn’t physically far. Silverlake was a stone’s throw away from Los Feliz, both suburbs of Hollywood. “Okay then, thanks anyways”, he said. He was a talented young man; an aspiring actor, comedian and someone who was prepared to stay up and practice his lines for the community play, even if he knew the audience would consist of 3 pensioners and a few primary school kids. And if he’d been a director, he’d have put the same passion into filming the play at the local community center as he would have put into filming Apocalypse Now. We were friends, but I guess we lived in different worlds – and I’m not talking about East Timor. I’m talking about head-space. His name was Rainn Wilson. And this was 2001.

In his 2008 interview with Oprah Winfrey, Rainn Wilson talks about his approach to life.



At the center of Rainn Wilson’s life is the idea of service to humanity. We’re all unique individuals, endowed with unique talents and strengths and we form part of an organism that is life. Each of us has his or her own role to play for the advancement of this organism, which is human civilization. The greatest lives are lived at the nexus of where individual gems meet service to those around us. On his website, Soulpancake, (http://www.soulpancake.com/) Wilson tries to explore these ideas. Yes, the awkward paper-man has quite the depth.

Living a life that makes sense doesn’t always mean being rich and famous. Even Hollywod knows that. Many films thematize the “struggle” of purpose versus societal recognition. In Baby Boom (1987) Diane Keaton has to make a choice – namely whether she will quit her high-powered, well-paid job or scale down and dedicate her time to the baby that has suddenly entered her life. In Stepping Out (1991) Liza Minelli leaves Broadway and decides to dedicate her talents to a bunch of small-town twits who are rehearsing for the local musical. This story has been told many times.

But while films like Baby Boom feature characters making the unpopular choice that allows them, perhaps, to meet their highest destiny, they usually end up with the same kind of material and worldly recognition they left behind in the first place. So in the end, Diane Keaton not only gets her job offered back to her, she’s also in a position to turn it down because she’s built a massive franchise in the process.

While there is nothing wrong with that, it’s useful to be aware that this kind of plot cultivates the view that money and fame are inevitable indicators of a fulfilled and purposeful life – that anyone doing the right thing, will end up attaining those things. But is that always true? Are wealth and recognition necessarily by-products of a full and purposeful life? The “reward” that Daniel receives at the end of As It is in Heaven (2004) is the satisfaction of having created music that will open a person’s heart. Nothing more. He dies on the tiles of a bathroom, bleeding to death, but his soul is at peace.

I’d like to stretch this notion even further. Would Daniel have been able to die happy even if the choir had not opened the hearts with its music? Or else opened the hearts, perhaps, but after he had died? Is there merit in pouring our efforts into “trying” to live purposefully – regardless of the outcome we may witness?

Of course story-telling is an art and craft and there are ways in which we have learned to respond to plots. How would you “show” spiritual fulfillment in a satisfying way on screen - in a way that ties the story together and leaves you with a feeling of resolution? Having a protagonist “see” the fruits of his efforts is a powerful way of giving us satisfaction. Is it possible to create compelling stories that are just as fulfilling but introduce different values, such as the idea that the reward can be in the journey, not the destination?  There are, of course, spaces of exploration in alternative cinema for this kind of idea. But “alternative” culture implies a duality that I’m not comfortable with. I’m interested in exploring this as broadly as possible and exposing our dominant cultural sensitivities to new assumptions about life and our role in it.

We each have a journey and I’m in no position to question anyone’s motives for pursuing a career in Hollywood or choosing to tutor a bunch of kids in the Southern Sudan in the art of public speaking. These things are for each of us to figure out and they are not straight-forward. But my fateful trip to South Africa in 2003 has helped me begin the process of asking questions about what role I’d like to play. I have the luxury of being a filmmaker and media person. But, I do have an identity beyond this definition as well. And I’m drawn to thinking of myself as someone whose goal it is to serve humanity, whether that’s through filmmaking or through something else that draws on my strengths as a “communicator”.

Somewhere along the line I decided that Hollywood did not really need me, and attaining stardom or fame in my case would not benefit anyone save me. But I did feel that the world might have something to gain from someone who makes little films that tell untold stories. Sometimes these films reach great numbers, sometimes they reach 4 people. But almost as soon as I finish a project, my sense of satisfaction is gained – even when that project is interrupted by a robbery that throws me back to square 1.

Maybe that’s easier for me to say, because I’m not that special – easier for me than for others, who are better and more talented than me. For example, there are people in this world who are particularly gifted and who hone one particular art or craft until they become prodigious in it: piano players, ice-skaters, opera singers. I have often seen those kinds of people tremble at the prospect of losing their hands, feet or voices, for they have decided that it defines them. It must be devastating.



But I must wonder what great “singer” lies in behind the opera singer who has lost his voice. What can he give to the world? I’d venture to propose that it might be more monumental than he could ever imagine. It’s all about finding our highest destiny; the best space that we could possibly occupy at any given time and whatever the circumstances are. I like to call it following the light of our inner gems and dreams, not the bulb or lampshade that confines it. Many of us get hung up on the outer specifics of our dreams. We imagine a specific car, a specific house, a specific kind of spouse or career. But at the core of every dream or vision lies its light. It is that light, which, if captured, can take us to our greatest destiny, which may lie well beyond our own limited imagination.

If more of us were to strive to achieve the greatness that is meant for us, we would also see drastic changes in the world around us, because when each cell in the human organism finds its best expression the body as a whole can recover. But our society doesn’t necessarily nurture the idea that everyone’s best expression is anchored in their spiritual drive to serve mankind in the best possible way. Right now the emphasis is on acquiring wealth and fame. We have the power to tell stories that can shift the emphasis.

I would give anything to go back to my phone call with Rainn Wilson and say “Yes! Yes, of course we’ll film the community play – what an honor!”