We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Daniel Luis Ennab a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Daniel Luis, appreciate you joining us today. How did you learn to do what you do? Knowing what you know now, what could you have done to speed up your learning process? What skills do you think were most essential? What obstacles stood in the way of learning more?

I had a lingering interest in filmmaking at a very young age, when I was basically a little kid. That interest grew for every movie I saw, and I think I was more intrigued on the idea of story than I was with the visual aspects of it. Don’t get me wrong, when I first saw a film like Coppola’s “Apocalypse, Now”, or Carpenter’s “The Thing”, or one of Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns, I was drawn by the visual language of those films, I was moved by their grand scale ambition, I was even haunted by certain elements of those films, too.

But the story is what always captivated me. After school, I’d go home and watch some VHS of a film like “The Coco Cola Kid” with Eric Roberts, or “8mm” with Nicolas Cage, or like “Prizzi’s Honor” with Jack Nicholson (just some movies I remember watching at the time) and I’d rewind certain moments of a scene because I liked how a character said a piece of dialogue, or I found a camera angle pretty interesting and fresh.

I unknowingly made a curriculum for myself. Watch movies, remember the names of actors, cinematographers, editors, production designers, distributors, production companies, the screenwriters, and the directors. Listen to the DVD commentaries, draw storyboards off things I see in real life (my sketches are atrocious), and learn proper screenplay format (whenever I had access to a computer, I’d find old PDFs of “Rio Bravo”, “Do the Right Thing”, “Memento”) and I gradually started to take this more seriously. I was a cinephile before doing anything, really.

Cinema history became my study, and it still does, considering how universal the medium is, and how so many films from the international spectrum has yet to still be discovered from past years and generations and the now.

But once I had access to my first Canon camera (I was about thirteen or fourteen), the Rebel, I really started shooting whatever I could. A lot of acclaimed filmmakers have said along the lines of “If you want to call yourself a director, call your friends, get your family, go to the yard or somewhere accessible, and frame it, film it, and you’re now officially a director”. And from my teenage years to my young adult years I’ve operated as a DIY filmmaker. Make with what you have, don’t let a low budget limit creativity. ‘Go big, go home’ mentality.

If I can’t afford a real sound mixer, learn how to mix sound. If I can’t afford a car rig, get a little bold and find a way to frame your car shot that might not have been what you imagined, but is actually just as affective, if not even better.

Yes, I went to film school, and I learned a few things in school, too. But I was advised to be a certain kind of filmmaker. That’s the culture of film school. Everyone wants to make a “La Haine”, or a “Blow Up”, or a “Requiem of a Dream”, and “2001 A Space Odyssey”, but not many students (including myself) were not true to our own selves. We didn’t have a distinctive voice, yet. And people look down on novice filmmakers who have a whacky way of seeing through the cinema. In school, I learned the ‘rules’, so I could later break them. Because the rules aren’t interesting. The rules of filmmaking establish a certain discipline, but rules are meant to be broken and that is what great cinema has illustrated for aspiring filmmakers. In school, I learned which people to trust. I learned how to express and convey my vision to fellow peers. I learned about lighting a scene. What’s too much lighting and what’s subtle lighting. I learned to play with cinema digital cameras. I learned how to balance out the priorities of making a film work. What I mean by that is some directors get caught up on the visual. You have a Red Komodo, or an Alexa, or a Arriflex 435 with some cooke panchro lenses or anamorphic and everything looks cinematic to the cusp, but then you put all the attention to that and have limited time and energy to actually direct a scene. Direct actors, Create a dialogue that’ll transition to a rehearsal and eventually fine tuning what you have so that your actors get to the crux of why this scene you are filming with these amazing ass cameras and lenses matter.

So balancing out how you want to communicate your vision is of extreme importance. Transparently, I’m still learning this and have failed numerous of times. And directing is such a pragmatic thing, its not like writing at all.

Writing allows you to really explore the wonders of the unknown. But when you’re directing with a modest budget to no budget, you find yourself making necessary compromises. You start to think logistically (with hopes of using your creativity), and you begin to operate outside the conventional norms of filmmaking.

I’ve had my experiences working on bigger budgets as a Coordinator, Production Assistant, an Assistant Camera, and there’s just more of a militant method to running a set that’s admirable, though lacks the merriment and freedom to what’s romanticized about filmmaking.

I’m just some twenty seven year old in Queens who has this dream of making real cinema. I am no different from the millions of other aspiring filmmakers in just one city, let alone the entire damn world! I go through the self doubt, I go through the comparative distortions whenever I see a young director with over a certain following, I go through the festival rejections, and the maxing out my credit card, and being told I’m crazy or ‘no, you can’t do this without this amounted budget’.

I’ve gone through losing myself through every project just so I can, in the end process of it all, find myself again and gain some invaluable perspective.

The greatest of my obstacles is all mental, I wouldn’t even say money. Because money doesn’t stop me from trying something new. Money comes and goes. Sure, fifty thousand dollars is a hell of a lot better than two thousand, but there’s ways around it. When it comes to your mental health, especially as a creative, there’s more to it.

I’m sure a lot of young filmmakers like me would say the same. We live in a world now where it isn’t that interesting to be a filmmaker because everyone is now a filmmaker. Everyone is now a ‘content creator’.

We have jargon like ‘algorithms’ that impose and browbeat our hopes, and someone in the world could’ve spent their savings and their time, and they could’ve lost relationships through that process and all that person needs is a few ‘numbers’ in the statistics department because now’a days that qualifies ‘success’, but maybe they don’t and what they’re left with is this depression and that person may not want to try again because of how challenging that whole process was. Society speaks numbers and that influences the way real creatives think.

But there’s a reason filmmakers are filmmakers. I didn’t think about getting likes on Instagram, or being a quarter finalist on Script Pipeline, or getting into SXSW. When I said to myself “I want to make films”. I thought about scenes that aren’t scenes, yet. I thought about Jackie Chan, Pedro Almodovar, Lee van Cleef, the motorcycle scene in “Fallen Angels” and Scorsese’s “Taxi Driver”. I thought about wow’ing myself. I romanticized cinema for the astounding beauty that it is.

The credentials and that open door to rising success is a dubious factor in all of this. It comes with luck and who you know, too. And I’m a rather weird individual.

I’ve never really been one to walk into a room and win a crowd over. I struggle with this, still. But I have heart, and I think if I continue to make films, from a low scale budget to a workable, flexible budget, I will practiced my craft enough to truly hone my craft. Every person has a unique gift that is never realized or goes to waste. If there is a creator of this world, I have to believe I was born with a God given talent.

But even though I believe this, I also believe that talent isn’t honed, yet. That’s why I have to continue to make films whatever way I can. That’s why I have to continue to write. That’s why I have to continue being a student of the cinema. Its a process, its a journey. Through this journey is an explorative of self. That’s why I’m a filmmaker. I feel it is my destiny. It is part of my identity.

Don’t even go to film school if you’re about to graduate. Go if you want to easily form a crew of your own, but honestly, maybe try out some non profit organizations. Learn through YouTube tutorials. Buy cinema books like “Pictures at a Revolution” by Mark Harris, or Bazin’s critical works “What is Cinema?”, and watch many, many films. Learn.

Then save up for a Blackmagic camera, a DLSR (or even better, a Super 8, 16mm) and rent gear (I am a co founder of a rental house, Matria Rentals, reach me!), and start filming.

Make bad films that no one will see but your friends and family and keep making films till you start to really understand visual literacy. Be an editor, be a colorist, be a sound editor and mixer. You have to do these things if you want to be a filmmaker. Don’t treat it like a hobby. Its a lifestyle. Embrace the falls, stay humble and appreciate the highs, too.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

I’m from New York, born and raised. At thirteen I got into a non profit weekend film workshops designed for youths with limited to no resources in film education and production experience. I went to film school a few years later (School of Visual Arts), and during my years of study and practice I worked on a few productions for more in access experience, networking, and income.

I have a weird path, transparently speaking. I didn’t graduate like others with immediate opportunity. I didn’t go on to work for Vice or Harper’s Bazar, or Complex. I didn’t fall into commercial or fashion. I started as a Production Assistant for quite some time and learned how to work in a fast paced environment. I learned how to deal with different personalities. I had a hands on reality check too with how unhealthy and misguided the industry is. The unfair wages, the swamp of egos, and the inconsistencies in freelancing. I started jumping into different title positions. One season I’m a Locations Assistant for a pretty popular show, next season I’m reading scripts for an indie production company and writing treatments for them, and then another season I’m driving sixteen foot trucks, or I’m coordinating low budget music videos. There are even instances where I’m actually even casted for random films because directors took a liking to my own mannerisms. I’ve shot weddings, I’ve traveled to different states and documented people and their stories. Reflecting the last four years I’ve never really had any stabilization or one direct route. I’ve jumped on different projects and solely focused on being a better writer because I want to write stories. I spent whatever free time going around NYC and recording whatever I felt some vague connection to. I continue to be a student in this field.

It wasn’t till this year I had a change of mind. I don’t want to work for anyone. I want to be my own boss and work with people with similar interests and passions. I want to be part of something that is bigger than just my own ambitions, it’s a collective, it’s communal.

So now I am a co-founder of Matria, a studio part film equipment rental house based in Brooklyn. The company runners are David Michael Alexander, Stalin Llivichuzhca, Godfred Sedano and myself.

Our mission is to provide a service to filmmakers from all around NYC, out of state, and abroad. Rent out film equipment and a studio space for affordable rates. We want to utilize our knowledge, skill sets, and experiences to maintain and grow a business that is quite popular though essential in this industry. It made sense because the four of us are best friends, filmmakers, and individual owners of production gear.

There’s also the conversation of having another source of income. David is a Gaffer, so he has more in depth knowledge on lighting packages. Godfred has a background in camera, he’s a cinematographer. Stalin has an extensive understanding in finances and what certain practices can either help and hurt a company. I’m the creative director behind the company’s marketing. We all share responsibilities concerning clientele, studio maintenance, research, and investing in more gear.

And with that being said, I’m also currently a film/video editor (freelance). I quite enjoy editing as much as I enjoy writing. They’re almost sort of similar. The way I’d like to proceed on with life at this current time is run a business with my partners, edit as a main source of income (and practice), and focus on making films.

Last year I wrote, shot, directed, starred, and edited my first short film in two years. “A Summer Day in Brooklyn”. It’s a mix of things. Funny, weird, observant, and dabbles a fine line between documentary and narrative fiction.

It features my family and some friends. I made the film during a difficult time. It was a fun way to cope while even reflecting on my own flaws and insecurities. Most importantly, when it was done, and I watched it with an audience, I actually dug it. That’s when I felt like I really made some distinguishable progress as a filmmaker. I realized my own visual style and stuck to it. I’m really proud of that one.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

For the movies, it is the feeling of having an out of the body experience. Great movies have that affect. When I saw Masaaki Yuasa’s “Mindgame”, I left the theater with a new sense of awe. When I saw “Dressed to Kill”, I thought ‘whoa, De Palma kills off Angie Dickson within the first thirty minutes? You can do that?’.

Luca Guadagnino’s revision of “Suspiria” had me in tears, it was such a visceral film. I was like ‘damn, so remakes can actually be good, if not even better?’.

Or for people who’ve seen Gaspar Noe’s “Into the Void”, if you’ve seen “Into the Void” you know how jarring of an experience that was to the mind and body.

How can we best help foster a strong, supportive environment for artists and creatives?

Give us resources (and money).

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.danielluisennab.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/_danlou/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/daniel-luis-ennab-15983093/
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_2xe5t1DCdDu1ZVYh-Mi9g