Why Not?
“If you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself tempted to believe this cycle of brokenness and fatherlessness and hopelessness is too discouraging to even try to tackle.”
It’s been a week since coming home from a trip to Ethiopia, one that expanded my view of just how proud I could be of someone. It wasn’t always straightforward. In fact – between police raids, missing actors, and home robberies – it’s most definitely been a miracle that anything got made at all. But through the generosity of 34 donors and God’s abundant grace, Abel and his orphanage pulled it off. They made an entire movie.
In total, about 80% of Abel’s crew were from his orphanage. We paid rates for all of them – and for many, this was a first-ever job. Half of those boys still live in the orphanage, and every night, our crew van would drive residents back to the facility gates. Almost all of our Department Heads were children who either resided in the orphanage or had recently graduated (Unit Production Manager, Assistant Director, Production Designer, Gaffer, Sound, Best Boy, Assistant Camera) and our stellar cast consisted entirely of children from the orphanage – many of whom have genuine acting ability.
We filmed 19 scenes across 3 days in over a dozen distinct locations across Addis Ababa. The boys constructed sets inside their own orphanage bedrooms (painting walls and scavenging for props/furniture), rented a 40-seater bus for their opening scene, and even secured full police uniforms. We filmed chase sequences through busy streets, highway scenes on top of moving vehicles, and soccer games on their own dirt fields at home. We fed 25 crew members each day and equipment pickups/dropoffs were coordinated by drivers per callsheets created and distributed by the children, every night.
I was blown away by how much this crew was united behind Abel. We’d work 17 hour days with 7 hour turnarounds (unheard of, in the US), yet no one was ever complaining. There was just a palpable sense of excitement to be on set. Dozens of young children from the orphanage skipped school to act in the film. A handful of older crew members took time off from higher-paying gigs to participate, on set. Many more were first-time crew members themselves – learning on the fly and soaking everything in.
Sure, there were problems – but every production has its own. The most important thing was that Abel and his crew learned how to deal with setbacks. From pivoting their shooting schedule to accommodate daylight… to recasting roles when initial choices were unfairly jailed… to catering on the fly when there wasn’t enough food for people. They learned the value of petty cash to block off a street… the efficiency of staggering makeup with blocking rehearsals for camera… and the ability to trust fellow crewmates when they insist we need to move on, for time.
Despite everything, it was the first rehearsal that struck me, most. Once he got past the nerves of setting up chairs in the studio and buying sodas and donuts for the children… Abel would come alive. The same boy I met in 2018 who was obsessed with DESPICABLE ME and Cristiano Ronaldo was now standing in front of me, directing a scene with 8 attentive children listening to his every word. And he commanded their attention. From his blocking directions to his encouragements to younger boys… there was a confidence that I’ve never seen from him, before. A glimmer in his eye as he directed – the kind that I know all too well – one that holds both fear and nervousness and adrenaline and joy in equal parts. But maybe that’s just what working a dream job always feels like.
At the end of the day, I wasn’t just proud of Abel – I was in awe of what he’s created for his community. While it would be altogether impressive on its own… Abel didn’t just make a movie. He also set an example for every boy in that orphanage. He’s become an inspiration – a picture of someone to aspire to be. A living, breathing, tangible alumni from a place that many claim is hopeless. He’s proof that you can follow your passions, find a job, get paid, and bring your work back to bless the community you grew up in. And if I know one thing about Abel – he will never hesitate to lift up his brothers and he will never forget where he came from.
Scattered across Abel’s orphanage are dozens of grafitti messages from over the years. On first glance, you’ll recognize football clubs and names like Messi, Ronaldo, and Neymar. But eventually, you’d notice an assortment of disturbing, heartbreaking messages, too… phrases like “think twice, nobody cares” or “people change. f*ck you bad vibes”. If you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself lingering on those difficult words – tempted to believe this cycle of brokenness and fatherlessness and hopelessness is too discouraging to even try to tackle.
But if you visit Abel’s orphanage today, you’ll find some fresher paint. “Why Not Pictures” – the children’s new production company – is now proudly grafittied from the front gate to the outer walls. It’s a name Abel proposed; a rallying cry borne from a response to the impossible: “Could children from this orphanage ever make it out? Could they ever get a job? Could they ever produce their own, homegrown movie?”
“Well… why not?”
Abel’s journey has only just begun. Him and his team now embark on the equally challenging road of post-production – learning how to ingest footage, organize, edit, color, score, and sound design. It’s a steep learning curve for them to tackle with relatively outdated technology and one that will still need your prayers and support. But if one thing’s clear – there’s nothing stopping these kids. The sky’s the limit and the whole world’s at their feet.
Grateful for your continued support,
Eunji Lim Stars in Dimes Square
Amidst a plethora of robust performances, Eunji Lim and Josh Mallin’s striking two-hander is the scene that leaves the strongest impression in “Dimes Square”.
Amidst a plethora of robust performances, Eunji Lim and Josh Mallin’s striking two-hander is the scene that leaves the strongest impression in “Dimes Square”.
From freely-floating cigarette smoke to actors physically weaving through seated audience members, it’s often easy to forget that a play is taking place within the homy walls of 432 Hudson Street. Such is the nature of Matthew Gasda’s “Dimes Square” – a brilliant, Sorkin-esque glimpse into the lives of several millennial friends – set inside a single living room, over the course of several nights.
It’s filled with sharp dialogue and witty banter, excelling most when allowing its talented cast to play – bouncing off each other’s energy; feeding off anger, lust, frustration, and laughter. Yet, in an ensemble cast counting the likes of Christian Lorentzen, Cassidy Grady, Beau Scheier, Max MacDonald, and more, it’s the singular performance of Eunji Lim (who steals her scenes in and of themselves) that captivate the most vividly.
“Dimes Square” is inherently a story about friends – the dynamics between a group; the interruptions; the misunderstandings; the crowded, busy nature of a shared room – but Lim’s character, Bora, is introduced as an outsider, late to the party. Not necessarily “removed” from the friend group (as explored through a sexual relationship with Max McDonald’s Stefan), Bora instead gives Gasda’s play the dimension its first act always needed: the perspective of the individual.
This is where Lim shines – taking advantage of unique scenes that seemingly emulate a character study, more so than a friend group. Rich with subtext and emotional baggage, Lim cuts a figure who is both a successful cinematographer, but also a weary socialite. Caught in a rivalry between Stefan and her scene partner, Terry (Josh Mallin), Bora bears the weight of being the only woman of color in the group – while also seemingly the most emotionally mature. Lim tackles this duplicity with both nuance and care, moving from tirade to exhaustion with gentle ease. It’s a role that seems to play to her strengths, exhibiting a fierce confidence that palpably captivates the room.
Midway through the play, Lim’s Bora and Mallin’s Terry find themselves alone, inside the living room. Their friends have disappeared to the roof – leaving the two to not only discuss doubts, but unpack fear. Bora doesn’t shy away from asking the hard questions – prying into the insecurities that Terry, perhaps, isn’t even aware of, himself. It’s in this scene that the audience falls the most silent. The scene in which every ear is turned to Lim – faced away from her scene partner, overcome with emotion. Listeners hang on to every word, sniffle, and broken confession that Lim emotes – treated to a feisty explosion, later on in the scene. It’s a display of control and range: one that Lim effortlessly channels into a character that seems criminally underused in Gasda’s script. Lim seems to recognize that hidden potential, finding confidence not only in her lines, but the character Bora represents. Her performance becomes a statement of intent: of her acting skill, but equally – and if not more importantly – how the friends on the fringes of our lives can both hold us together and shake us to our core.