Headed for NYC — March 23 2018
After my experience at SXSW, I felt the need to reconcile my mind.
I was inspired by Mr. Shakey and his Times-Contrarian article reviewing the PARADOX interviews in Austin — a litmus test for keeping journalists accountable. It was an interesting social experiment; to me, the results felt about fifty percent alkaline and fifty percent acidic — my unscientific opinion.
A week or so later, we set out on a short journey around the U.S. to share the film with audiences in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles. The following are journal entries from those days.
From the Photography Department
Paradox is a documentary in narrative disguise. In the Shakey Pictures tradition, its strange form runs contrary to collective media literacy. It’s shot through the filter of Daryl Hannah’s imagination — using hyperbole to examine her own universe and illuminate a magical time in our existence.
She had a complete vision in her mind and the faith to let it grow — from seeds she planted into whatever space-time was available. In the short span we had, I helped Daryl realize that dream as best I could. As an elite member of the Shakey Pictures Film School Dropouts Association, I knew it would be really good at least part of the time. It could be a little fucked up — as long as our hearts were in the right place, people would feel that.
We took off with a script that was more sketch than plan, a cast doubling as crew, and shot everything we could in just a few days. Without a soundman, I approached it like a documentary: bush-league doc-sound rig on a Super 35 Sony, rolling from morning till night. All the B-roll happened between takes or on the move — aside from D’s iPhone archive and 8 mm wind-up work.
Then the project took on a life of its own. It became more about loving what was happening than about being precious with intention. Space for invention was encouraged. We had fun creating art with friends, woodland creatures, and whoever wandered into our orbit. It was invigorating — as improv always is.
As DP, I stand fully behind the authenticity of PARADOX as a document of what transpired — a window into a realm usually unseen.
The fantasy layer of the film is a funhouse mirror of our reality. Through it, you witness the hilarity that only ensues “on the bus” after the show comes down. These six musicians, a few friends, and family share a special bond — a communal language only music can impart. It’s symbiotic — a positive feedback loop that humbles you to witness. Every time they vibrate the air around us, liftoff is achieved.
Each character is a sketch of their real spirit. The set is a metaphor for our shared experience, and nature itself observes our thoughts and actions.
We follow:
The Man in the Black Hat, our silent contrarian leader.
Jail Time, the philosophizing troubadour.
Particle Kid, the transcendent weirdo.
The rhythm section:
Cookie, feeding our souls.
Happy, the eternal optimist.
Tato, the natural mystic.
Supporting cast:
Weed, taking care of everything.
Schmoo, leaving no stone unturned.
Snow Bear, turning the page for all.
Cowboy Elliot, critical master of verbiage.
When the subjects of PARADOX finally begin to speak their first language — that of music — the soul of the universe reveals itself. Their fluency as a unit is transcendent and infectious; one hundred thousand people lift off on a communal wave with them. Then all the angels return to earth.
The maternal figures in white are symbols of the power within femininity — to save, nurture, and protect — and the grace to do so, even when they shouldn’t have to.
Like a poem, PARADOX demands objectivity. It’s a Rorschach test, revealing more about its viewers than about itself — the manifestation of a dream come true.
My eight-year-old daughter put it best:
“Paradox is what can happen when people love everything, Dad.”
We can all hold onto our hopes and dreams. Sharing them is the only way to make them real.
In our reality, it was a miraculous three days of nonstop action among people who care monumentally for one another.
Take a deep breath, smile, and do your best to leave no waste behind.
Off to Chicago for another screening.
Headed for Chicago — March 24 2018
NYC / IFC Reflections
We showed PARADOX at the IFC in Manhattan last night. You could feel the critical weight of New York City in the air. The theatre was still and focused.
I saw my friend and mentor Anthony Jannelli. Though we haven’t debriefed properly, he assured me I’d achieved something unique in PARADOX. A pat on the back from a hero like that felt grounding.
Our editor Paul Snyder was there with his parents and his girlfriend Jess. His mother — a self-proclaimed old hippie — said she loved the pace of the film, and the time it allowed for reflection, something she said is missing from daily life now.
Sometimes I make the mistake of reading the press. This trial by committee is new to me; I’m used to isolation, satisfying only myself and those nearby — never really interacting with audience or critic. It makes one examine their place in the balance of who pays attention, who projects, and who does both.
Coincidentally, today was the #MarchForOurLives. A historic day, casting a long shadow on everything else — a new generation ready to take back the reins from careless elders and corporate whores disconnected from the natural world.
Kids aren’t born racist. They see all things equally and feel deeply, closer to the source of their existence. Adults, tarnished by the patina of disappointment and disaster capitalism, forget that.
Every generation inherits the burden of those who’ve messed things up — myself included. When I was in fourth grade learning about acid rain, I was designing giant air filters that could launch toxins into the sun. By adolescence, I was hypnotized by advertising and pop culture. It took forty years and the birth of a child to see truth again — how interconnected we are.
Now, I just want to share time with loved ones, tend a garden, and cycle away years of self-abuse — to push positive messages into the toxic feeding tube of “stupid-phones” we’re all attached to.
Paradox became a cathartic outlet — an expression of all that needs to be said, shared among collaborators who feel the same. I remain hopeful that everyone will tune in, hopefully before we pass the point of no return.
In our travels, airports felt strange — rabid humans seeking attention at any cost. A fixation without purpose.
The Music Box Theatre in Chicago felt like a cathedral. Built in the 1920s or ’30s, it radiated magic — as did the crowd. In the lobby was a Stop Making Sense poster. The last time I was in New York before this trip was to see my dear friend and spiritual leader Jonathan Demme — nearly a year gone now. His mystical ways were with us.
While waiting to go in, I pulled a photo book off a shelf — a centennial celebration of Canada. It reminded me of where I’d come from, and that I was here now, surrounded by good spirits.
The Q & A was fun and lively. Elliot Roberts brought comic relief, and Jonathan came up often. Afterward, we shared a meal and I met the Wachowskis — exceptional, kind, compassionate humans. It was an unexpected honor, since The Matrix had once bent my young mind around cinematic time-space long before I knew I’d fall into filmmaking.
Another day, another plane — off to L.A. for the final screening.
The Laemmle Royal Theatre, West L.A. — March 25 2018
The world is smaller than we think. On the flight to Los Angeles, I met a retired couple who reminded me of my parents — she, a romance novelist; he, a farmer. We talked for hours. Descendants of pioneers, their family had moved from upstate New York to Michigan after the War of 1812, onto land granted for military service. It’s possible our ancestors fought each other — and here we were, two centuries later, laughing on a plane.
The strangest part? She was close friends with Julie Wachowski — sister of the very filmmakers who’d lifted my spirit the night before.
When we landed, we again heard the barking of rabid humans — unseen, but unsettling.
The gravity of #MarchForOurLives lingered. Millions had taken to the streets to speak out against senseless gun violence perpetuated by unstable people and profiteers. You need a license to drive a car — training, testing, insurance — but you can buy a weapon of mass destruction without certification. Fear begets fear. More guns, more death. The kids marching give me hope.
Another great crowd. Another great Q & A to close the tour.
Neil said it best:
“Daryl makes films like I make music. It’s a visual jam — it comes out the way it’s supposed to feel. Paradox is a song.”
Shakey Pictures embodies that naturalism — sound becoming sight. I’m proud to serve that school to the best of my ability.
Micah Nelson (Particle Kid) and his partner Alex Descalau were there, radiating good energy. Another packed house, another night of connection.
Paradox remains a polarizing Rorschach test. It resonates with the sensitive and riles the cynical. That’s its nature — paradoxical by design.
I feel nothing but warmth and gratitude — honored to serve Daryl Hannah’s vision and to work alongside kindred spirits: Neil Young, Dave Toms, Willie, Micah and Lukas Nelson, Elliot Roberts, Charris and Dulcie Ford and their sons Kasius and Phoenix, Anthony Logerfo, Corey McCormick, Tato Melgar, Gooch, Schmoo, Frank, and all the rest of the crew and critters.
It was a gift to help this film come to life — and now it’s free to roam.
With love and respect,
from a plane high above the earth on my way home —
So happy together,
Adam “CK” Vollick
March 26 2018