We recently connected with Tom Ptasinski and have shared our conversation below.

Tom, looking forward to hearing all of your stories 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?

From the moment I decided to be a filmmaker at eight years old till this day, I have never stopped expanding my knowledge, skill, and instinct in all areas involved in my chosen craft. It’s a lifelong lesson and I see myself as a perpetual student no matter how much I claim to know, there’s always something new to understand and explore.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

My name is Tom Ptasinski. I’m a film and T.V. director, screenwriter, and producer who has also produced and production managed in the commercial and music video world. I’ve been pursuing a career as a director and filmmaker since the age of eight when I was a shy, eager, movie-obsessed Polish-Japanese kid. My education began on Friday nights with my mom when we scour our extensive VHS classic movie collection and watch one, sometimes two, films a night. Staring up at the T.V. screen from the floor, I marveled at the work of Billy Wilder, John Ford, Alfred Hitchcock, and the like. My dad introduced me to the (at the time) blockbuster filmmakers and their work, like Spielberg, Lucas, and Zemeckis. In my teens, I began my exploration of the craft. I pursued, discovered, and watched all the great and lauded films, along with a few of the cult classics, knowing with every film that my passion would most likely be my profession.

I attended film school and learned the craft and business of the entertainment industry—crews, budgets, schedules, managing expectations, and bringing order to chaos. Every set I was directed was a deluge of problems needing miracles that were my job to provide. The role was a natrual fit. I felt prepared to enter the professional world with my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Film Production, emphasis in directing. My transition led to my first major lesson: film school can teach you a lot, but the only way to learn the film business is to jump into it head first. Making a living in entry-level positions is a humbling experience. Where only a few months before, I was directing dozens of my peers on set, I was now running errands, picking up lunch and coffee, and instructed that P.A.s are best seen and not heard. All the time, I watched, observed, and noted how effect people operated and how ineffective people were slowly phased out (for the most part). On set, you want to be reliable and anticipatory for whoever your lead is. If they feel they don’t have to worry about you doing a good job, they’ll find value in you and possibly mentor you, opening up opportunities. The way to grow your network is to prove your abilities and show how they can be useful to others.

I decided to pivot from the set to the office. I knew I needed a complete understanding of the business, how a project is conceived, funded, and brought to the point where it would go into production, and how they sell it to make their profits. I took a job with the late acclaimed producer David Foster (McCabe and Mrs. Miller, Short Circuit, Mask of Zorro). David was of the old school. He worked the phones, hustled, lunched, sweet-talked, and bullied… mostly bullied. I learned the business, but I also learned that his generation viewed abuse and bullying as a necessary part of the business. What I gained in knowledge, I lost in confidence with David’s daily mind games designed to belittle and confuse me.

David was not intentionally vindictive. He was reflecting the culture he came up in and doing me a favor by “toughening” me up. It had the opposite effect. I learned another valuable lesson: always stick up for yourself, no matter the consequences. No one deserves to be belittled or demeaned in the name of a movie. You may lose the favor of whoever is demeaning you, but you keep yourself intact. Preserving your whole self will benefit you more in the long run of your career than sacrificing your self-worth for short-term gain or favor. I value my time at David’s, harrowing as it might have been, for enhancing my story sense, organizational abilities, and professional demeanor. I brought David an expansive knowledge of film and what constitutes a good story. My radar for hit scripts was sharp, and we landed some pretty promising specs, but David was parsimonious, and we could never hold the scripts for long. While David had a begrudging respect for me, he did not value my opinion or talents, and we parted ways.

I landed in “The Dr. Phil Show” and “The Doctors” T.V. post-production as a transcriber and worked for the post-production supervisor. That experience taught me that T.V. was a content monster with an insatiable appetite. In T.V., budgets are small and tight, and there is no time. You’re always on your toes. I met a lot of old pros who gave me valuable life and career advice, mainly that you must maintain a certain zen quality to working in show biz. There are times of feast and famine. It’s okay to be nervous that you’ll never work again, but if you keep your head down, keep pushing, and stick with good people, you’ll make your way. Oh, and never swap upfront pay for a percentage of a project. It’s the oldest trick in the book. My organizational abilities and problem-solving reliability at Dr. Phil made me invaluable, whether it was a quick turnaround on transcription or being assigned to organize media and data. I did what was asked, and if I needed to learn how, I taught myself without taking up too much of other people’s time. “Tom’ll fix it” became the mantra and brought me goodwill and some advancement in the post-production department.

Feeling stagnant in the routine of daytime T.V., I accepted an offer from an old film school friend to produce and production manage some commercials and music videos. My natural ability to problem solve on the fly, team lead, and organize many moving pieces at once were instantly satisfied as I produced micro-budgeted music videos for up-and-coming artists, in one case sweet-talking a vendor with a digital projection rig to let us keep it four hours past our agreed contract when we ran into technically difficulties by feeding him donuts and listening to him tell fishing stories while texting decisions via my phone. Another commercial took our production from Malibu to Pocatello, Idaho, to New York City, hiring crews, securing locations, transportation, equipment, and like, and staying back to close shop. “Tom’ll fix it” also became “Tom’ll handle it,” several times, we were on the verge of significant production holdups (grip truck getting towed, cameras breaking, talent getting lost), but I stayed calm and found solutions that kept us on time and budget.

As much as I enjoyed my straightforward production roles, I am a director and storyteller at heart. I left the commercial world to exercise my creative muscles.

First, I spearheaded a story I wanted to tell for a long time. The Hemingway Special was a concept I had been tinkering with for years while I worked at “Dr. Phil” and in commercials. Two desperate screenwriters lock themselves in a hotel suite for forty-eight hours to try and recapture the magic of their first script to save their lives and careers and, in the process, work out what drove them apart. I designed it to be done on a shoestring budget and focus on my strengths as a director: A character-driven story led by strong performances and an intimate shooting style. Taking on the challenge of one location (a la Lumet’s 12 Angry Men) was a challenge I embraced.

We had start-up capital and many favors to call in from talented people. Yet, it was not to be. Failure can be more enlightening than success, and I left it incredibly enlightened in the case of The Hemingway Special. I had chosen my producer out of friendship rather than talent. He was ill-suited for the job. I had delegated many responsibilities to pitch and secure the rest of the funds to people who needed a proven track record. I did not discipline myself on the pitch and sale of the film, relying solely on my charm. If you want to be a director, your first film is all you. I kept feeling I didn’t have to do the difficult duties required to make the project a go and that I could only focus on the fun stuff. The script never got off the ground, and I had to reluctantly shelf it, though I have not given up on it for the future. My creative plans were promising, but I must pound the pavement to make it happen. I won’t make that mistake again.

I agreed to direct and produce 20 music and documentary videos for pop musician Mike Mentz on location in Thailand for his live album. That process, challenging as it was, reinvigorated my creative impulses. I had to combine my producing strengths, solve and handle practical problems, and develop innovative solutions. We shot in five cities over a month in Thailand on a shoestring, riding trains and cabs from location to location. We shot Mike’s music videos in the middle of the jungle, on the mountaintop, and in the beating heart of Bangkok. Our best-laid plans were thrown away as the practicalities and obstacles of shooting in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language presented themselves. The challenges suited my powers perfectly. My production confidence from my years on set and producing, paired with my understanding of the need for the content, all guided by the creative inventiveness and inspiration rooted in that eight-year-old who loved movies, produced ten music videos and ten travelogues of quality all on YouTube today.

My creativity reinvigorated, and I searched for my next project. I was surprised when my friend reached out to ask me to write a script for Hollywood Legend James Hong. I accepted the gig, never one to back down from a challenge and go outside my comfort zone. I discovered a latent talent and passion for screenwriting. I wrote four drafts of Patsy Lee: Private Eye for James under this story guidance, and we secured funding for the project before it ended due to forces outside our control. Writing the draft that got the funding gave me confidence in my writing. It propelled me to learn everything I could about the craft. I studied at the California State University, Northridge. I got my Masters in screenwriting under the guidance of writers who have written for “Mad Men,” “Breaking Bad,” and some of the best features of the modern era. I left the program with a cache of scripts I’ve now put out into the world to promote my talents and abilities, with more to come.

Between directing, producing, and writing, I discovered a passion for teaching. I accepted a position to teach filmmaking, directing, and visual storytelling at Chapman University. I explored and emphasized the fundamentals of storytelling for the image and an honest dialogue about what life in the entertainment industry demands. I have equipped any student taking my class with the skills and knowledge to carve out their own path in their creative career. Teaching also requires a certain humility to lecture and listen to the students for what they have to teach you about film, T.V., culture, and storytelling through new ideas and perspectives. My work in education was an unexpected but welcomed experience of growth for me as an artist, a filmmaker, and a person.

While I pursue projects to write and direct to this day, I look back on my journey and realize that essential abilities remained consistent for all the growth and change. I am a perpetual creator with an active imagination and powerful vision, always dreaming up characters, stories, and scenarios for a potential audience. I am a natural collaborator and storyteller who excels at communicating and listening to form the best approach. I am a master organizer and delegator, excellent at making things happen, putting out fires, and bringing order to chaos. I am a wealth of information and ideas, but I know that it’s my turn to shut up and let others take the lead. Most of all, I deliver with confidence, which is what has always been asked and expected. I continue to grow and hone my craft, abilities, and talents. Still, I am secure in my foundation of what I have accomplished and what I know I can accomplish in the future, no matter the size or scope.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

There are a few lessons I had to “reconsider,” let’s say. The most crucial was an old adage from my Midwestern upbringing that no one likes a “boaster” and the way to prove yourself and advance in the world is through hard work and humility. This may be true in some aspects of life but NOT the entertainment industry. You have to become a confident self-promoter. The gatekeepers who offer big opportunities are typically as in the dark about the outcome of a project as anyone else. What they respond to and what gives them the confidence to take a chance on someone is how much that person believes in themselves. As a director, I’ve often had to hide my own doubt when making decisions, but I had confidence that when I made the decision, it was the best one for that moment. Being able to project that confidence and persuade others you’re the person for the job is key to landing and advancing in whatever career you want to achieve, especially in the creative field. As a wise professor once told me, “You have to tell people what you want and then convince them you can deliver.” However, this does not give one license to be a jerk or lie about their abilities. It’s a fine balance of expressing confidence without becoming a con artist.

There are many stories where I had to unlearn or adapt to this fact time and again. My natural inclination is to be a quiet hard worker who holds all his hopes and ambitions inside. Putting myself out there takes tremendous effort, and I have to push myself to do it time and again. Yet, getting outside my comfort zone is the only way I can grow.

This is a low-stakes situation but there was a time when I was in film school and at a school-sponsored dinner with a big-time director. I looked up to this guy and his films. I thought my job at this dinner was to eat my food and listen to his stories. But, he was an engaging personality (most directors are), and he wanted to know about us and what we thought. He brought up a controversial film of his and he wanted everyone’s opinion on it. He started to go down the table of my peers and they all lavished praise which was funny because I knew a few of them had hated the film as much as I did. I felt it wasn’t his best and as my turn approached, I felt compelled to be respectful but truthful. Finally, the director’s eyes landed on me and he asked, “What’d you think, kid?” My mouth went dry. I started to sweat. All eyes were on me and I backed out and said some neutral thing. I was so afraid of what he and the others would think. I had this panicked thought that I’d be asked to leave the dinner and then promptly expelled. Oddly, I saw a spark in the director’s eyes that he knew what I wanted to say and was excited at the prospect. After I muttered, “It was great…” or something as vague as that, I saw the spark diminish and he moved on down the table.

Later, I was chatting with a trusted professor who was at the dinner and confided I had some critical thoughts about the film. I went off on all the thoughts I had bottled up out of fear. The professor was impressed and amused. He asked me why I didn’t share it at the dinner and I admitted I had chickened out. The conversation moved on. A few days later, that professor tracked me down in the hallway and shared that he had been emailed by the director over an unrelated topic but that the professor had brought up my actual thoughts. I froze up, thinking that the Hollywood police would be coming for me. Instead, the director was impressed! He shared that it was a loaded question and he had asked it to see if anyone had the guts to speak the truth about the film he knew wasn’t is best work. His message to me was to lose the fear. That I was the closest in the room to having what it takes to be director, to say what needs to be said even when it makes you unpopular. I kicked myself at the moment but it fortified that being authentic and showing people who you really are will take you done your authentic path as opposed to making decisions based out of fear and other people’s opinions.

Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?

Human authenticity. I want to bring authentic human emotion and experiences back into our popular mediums of storytelling. At the moment, the creative landscape is consumed by cynicism and performative pandering both of which ring hollow and sap storytelling of its true power and potential. Many major TV shows and films are made to be franchises first and engaging narratives with compelling characters second. They often rely on self-referential tropes or surface nostalgia funneled through a corporate drive to sell first and entertain if there’s time; there usually isn’t. Short-term success and profit supersedes innovation and creativity which require time and risk, two things that people obsessed with mega-profits fear and loathe. The result had been, like a frog in a pot, we’ve been slowly acclimating to the decline in quality and anemic offerings that entertainment companies put out, believing it’s the best they can offer.

My goal is to go back to the roots of great storytelling, to lead with concepts, characters, and emotion and take on the challenge of integrating all those other important social, philosophical, and cultural ideas within the framework of a story that an audience can engage in because it feels true. Creating characters with dimension, stories with unpredictable emotional beats, and taking risks in my cinematic and narrative approaches which free the audience from the safe and predictable tropes they’re inundated with from most of their major entertainment. I have always admired the filmmakers who take personal stories and strive to make them universal through the art and craft of filmmaking and storytelling. It’s difficult but, like anything difficult, the reward is the most fulfilling and good for the soul.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.tomptasinski.com/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tom.ptasinski
• Linkedin: www.linkedin.com/in/tom-ptasinski
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@TZaneP/videos?app=desktop