In 2010 I finally had a cut of my first movie, Happy Life. I had mixed feelings on where it was at, but it felt like a huge achievement to at least have a version of what could hopefully pass for a feature film. Mercifully in the mumblecore era the definition of “feature film” was rapidly degrading to a more obtainable status. Still, it’s a harsh moment to face the reality of what you have actually made versus what you had imagined for so long in your head. After a year of off-and-on editing, while still wrestling with what the material was, I finally had it whittled down to a version that, I felt, was the best it could be. It felt good! I assumed the process was basically over. I figured it would probably need a few minor tweaks and then could be sent off to the big festivals and everything would magically fall into place. The rough cut screening was at a video store called Cinema Nolita. A bunch of friends crammed in. Joe Swanberg was there. Abel Ferrara, our executive producer, brought a pizza. The movie played pretty well. Most of the jokes landed. Abel did non-stop running commentary. It was memorable, to say the least. As we filed out of the store, Abel pulled me aside and said, “Congratulations, you’re about halfway through the nightmare.” I didn’t exactly know what he meant at the time, but I soon did. It took so much more for the film to finally get completed and (barely) see the light of day. It got the smallest theatrical release imaginable, but has since grown in stature, slowly but surely, over the following years. That experience got me thinking about the finish line concept in relation to filmmaking. Is there any validity to it? Is it even a real thing?

It’s fair to say that when a film is picture locked, color graded, sound mixed, titles applied, master outputted, and thrown up on a screen for an audience, it’s completed. Some kind of finish line has been crossed. As rewarding of a feeling as that is, there’s still a nagging sense that there are more bridges to cross. It’s like when you beat an end boss in a video game and it just unlocks another, even harder, world to beat. 

Like every other film, my third feature, Jobe’z World, has been a turbulent process filled with high highs, low lows, and constant twists and turns. We shot it in one week in 2016, it played publicly for an audience for the first time (unofficially) in 2017, and the period between then and now has been a marathon of surreal misadventures and faux finales. With this deluxe Blu-ray edition finally seeing the light of day, in 2024, it feels like that’s all slowly disappearing in the rear-view mirror, as we approach a clear and tangible finish line.

Michael M. Bilandic is a New York-based filmmaker. He is the writer and director of Happy Life, Hellaware, Jobe’z World, and Project Space 13.