"That defines what the entire process has been like," she said. "It's been one problem after another, and the solution is money and you don't have it. It's incredibly frustrating. It's heartbreaking." After a few days of rest and relaxation in Fort Worth, she packed her bags and headed back to Los Angeles, ready to market her first movie and plan for the next. L.A. is the world's movie capital, which is why Harshbarger moved there. Still, she would return to Tarrant County and make movies here if opportunities were more abundant. Hometown allegiance by filmmakers, combined with financial and emotional support, is what made Austin a mini-Hollywood, she said, and the same could work with Fort Worth. "It's my home," she said after the nerve-wracking screening. "A lot of my stories come out of here. I pull from my life and my life has been here. I love the landscape -- there's nothing like the sunsets. Towns can really make it worth your while." Towns can also be indifferent. Industry people say Fort Worth loves to have movies filmed locally, but the city and its investors are stingy when it comes to priming the pump. The public might be willing to lend parking lots and old ranch houses in return for a little behind-the-scenes gawking, but taxpayers are tight when it involves subsidizing these ventures.
Funding is the magic word among filmmakers. With it, visions can become celluloid artworks earning barrels of money and etching notches in popular culture. Without it, words remain on paper, unspoken by actors, unstaged by directors, unseen by money-wielding fans. "That's one of the big problems -- there isn't an economic engine," screenwriter Andy Anderson said. "The idea about being in Fort Worth and floating a prospectus and getting people to invest is very difficult. The Fort Worth Film Festival raises the consciousness a little bit, but it's hard to put a film together anywhere. There are films being made in the area, but it's a hard row to hoe." Filmmakers wonder why money from local benefactors and investors bypasses their industry, although they admit it's a chancy investment. Most filmmaking here involves outside groups that come to the Metroplex, bring much of their own crew, shoot their films, and leave. "Local production is kind of a crapshoot," Michael Price said. "There is no concerted master plan for feature filmmaking in Fort Worth and Tarrant County. There are film appreciation groups in Tarrant County, but they keep it low-key and are more interested in learning to appreciate the art of film than they are going out and making their own movies." Gregor Turley, a Fort Worth actor for 25 years, sometimes tires of making work trips to Dallas. "It would be nice if Fort Worth had a little more local recognition and local organization for the film community than having to trudge all the way over to Dallas," he said. "Everything is always geared toward Dallas as far as auditions go. It's going to take some sort of a backing angel to donate a space that is organized and maintained for people being able to post résumés, people looking to hire, people wanting to be hired, bulletin boards and things." Fort Worth actress Cynthia Cranz's résumé is thick with 10 years of work in tv commercials and industrial videos. Cranz even has her own action figure, since she provides Chichi's voice on Funimation's Dragon Ball Z. The résumé is bare when it comes to feature films, however. "There is an image of the big screen, as opposed to television," she said. "It seems like a different level of hierarchy. There is just a magic there. It's harder work to get, and that makes you want it more." She said there's still life bubbling beneath the quiet surface of the Metroplex's independent film scene. "I do know there are people here making films, and I do hope to get involved," she said. "There is a lot of good talent in Fort Worth." Matthew Hunt left Arlington in 1994 for Los Angeles to make movies, although he returned to the Metroplex recently to shoot the bulk of his independent film F.A.T. Post-production is completed and he is seeking distribution. "Do I see a huge growth spike soon? I don't, that's why I moved here," Hunt said recently from his Sherman Oaks, Calif., home. "I would have kept my house and stayed there. But that doesn't mean steady growth, and solid talent and quality production aren't happening there. I wouldn't trade what I filmed there. My co-producer and I said we were definitely going to come back and shoot there." Despite shortcomings, Fort Worth and the Metroplex could be perched for a surge. Chuck and Mike Norris, Keeyes, Anderson, and others said they are here for the long haul. The sense of community they provide might attract others. Canada is considering cutting back on incentives to filmmakers, which could slow production there. Meanwhile, U.S. legislators are considering implementing their own rebates. Last year, Oklahoma created an incentive program, commonly referred to as the Compete With Canada Film Act, which provides 15 percent rebates for producers. In Texas, the film industry is pushing state legislators to offer similar incentives, and Chuck Norris is using his star power. "I'm talking to Gov. [Rick] Perry now to get more incentives to production companies to get them to come here," he told the Weekly. "Texas would be the next Canada." Impending changes at the local film commission could help. The economy shows signs of a recovery. Fort Worth could increase its visibility as a haven for filmmakers, although not everyone believes a booming film community looms. Price, the film buff, doesn't. "If it hasn't happened by now it may never happen," he said. "It would be lovely. Austin retains that commitment to the arts and to the nurturing of the arts through strategic funding. I don't pretend to understand the circumstances that allow that to happen, but every state ought to have a city like Austin." A film industry, like any industry, rises or falls based on the natural laws of supply and demand, Price said. "I don't know that it even needs to go to the next level," he said. "There is a certain charm to it just the way it is. It's like Popeye, it yam what it yam." Only problem is, local filmmakers view that small-town charm as a pretty thin gruel.
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