Today we’d like to introduce you to Jenny Waldo.
Hi Jenny, we’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
My story, briefly: I was born in Washington, DC, to a Czech-immigrant mother and Florida-born father (that’s its own story!). Key influences from childhood: Visiting my family under Communist rule in Czechoslovakia, my father’s obsession with the family legacy, his temper, and my mother’s co-dependency. I was a poor reader and a terrible writer, but I excelled at math. I played piano and was a semi-professional dancer. My father taught me how to develop black and white photographs for my 1st-grade science presentation, which became a lifelong love, and I carried my camera everywhere. I struggled during my teen years and had no idea what I wanted to pursue as a career. I didn’t want to have an office job. In college, a lightbulb went off after I nearly failed my post-calculus math class, and I wouldn’t say I liked the dance department, dropping my intended math/dance double major and selecting English, which exposed me to film theorists and the idea that films could be read and analyzed like a book. I had to work on my writing, I got better at reading, and soon I realized that people made their careers making films and that all my music, dance, and photography skills applied, as well as my stories, life experiences, and ideas that I could now express in my improved writing. I interned on the Paramount Lot and fell in love with Los Angeles. I returned to DC and got work experience in the doc/educational film industry before moving to LA to earn my MFA in Film Production at USC’s School of Cinematic Arts, focusing on scripted work. I never meant to leave LA, but life eventually took me to Houston, where I’ve dedicated myself to making good content, sharing my skills and experiences as a Producer, Writer, and Director, and teaching filmmaking at Houston Community College. I recently released my debut feature film, Acid Test, which explores my tumultuous teen years as a Riot Grrrl punk. I’m developing my second feature, Martha’s Mustang, another rebellion story from the ’90s about a 40-year-old single mom, a hot pink Mustang who’s turned into a flower planter, and the town against her.
We all face challenges, but looking back, would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
Mental health was a massive challenge for me. I’m a workaholic and dedicate myself 110% to everything, but I also struggle with extreme anxiety and depression. When I was younger, the swings were hard to manage, and my decision-making was immature and impulsive. I self-sabotaged at various points, both professionally and personally. My divorce was a turning point, as painful as that process was. I got into therapy (finally), got my mental health under control, and pulled myself together so that I could take care of my kids and also get back to my love and excitement for filmmaking. I’ve had a lot of advantages, privileges, and support from friends and family, which I’m so grateful for. Still, mental health and trauma don’t discriminate, and it took a long time for me to address them because it’s still so judged. Like you chose your depression or are being overly sensitive for no reason, and that’s not true. I know that relief can sometimes be tricky to find, especially now, and it’s often an evolving journey that brings up new things as you go along, but I believe there is hope that it does get better.
Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I started as a writer, which is a solitary venture. I credit journaling as a teen with saving my life because if I hadn’t had that outlet, I would’ve self-destructed in a much more permanent way. I’d write in my bedroom at night, wrapped in darkness, and eventually found my way to writing screenplays. But filmmaking is a team sport. If I’d just wanted to write and be done with it, I would’ve stuck to novels (though I have a few of those, too). I loved writing movies, visualizing how the movie would unfold and take the audience on a journey. Watching films is also, often, a communal activity, and there’s something in both the team aspect of making a film and the collective aspect of watching one that I felt drawn to. So, I went into the film industry and quickly learned that you need help to make a (good) film. And every project is like a new experiment; you need to do more than just the same things you’ve done before. As an artist, you want to challenge yourself and make things just a little bit “better” in whatever way that means to you. Sometimes, it’s working with new (to you) actors and new crew, or in a new genre, or with new equipment, locations, the scope of the project, etc. Even if you took the same script and the same cast and crew, you’d be making it at a different time, which would post new obstacles – weather, strikes, pandemics, inflation. So, even if you’ve made many films, you can’t truly be an expert. We’ve seen terrible films from people who have lauded careers. I’m also not a fan of the idea that anyone can be an “auteur.” Yes, as a filmmaker, I have to have a vision for the project and rally my team behind that vision. But I can’t control everyone’s movement and behavior; it takes so many people to make a movie. So it’s always a partnership, a collaboration, which ultimately makes the project better than it would’ve been with just one single mind behind it.
Crew sets are, by nature, learning environments. The people starting as Production Assistants (PAs) don’t want to end their careers as PAs; they want to learn and grow and become Producers, Directors, DPs (Cinematographers), etc. So, the department heads and people higher up in the hierarchy always mentor and teach. Now, that doesn’t mean all sets are utopias, and, unfortunately, there are far too many horror stories from film and television sets. Still, leaving Los Angeles and building my career in Texas has allowed me to keep the magic alive for making movies. As a producer/writer/director, I set the tone, and what’s most important to me is creating enjoyable, sustainable, and safe working environments for people to collaborate, experiment, learn, and grow. I know that I always am. It’s also one of the reasons I love teaching filmmaking because, as I remember, I turn around and share with my students so that they may have an advantage in the current market. And I always learn from my students because technology and approaches are constantly changing. I may have been inspired to get into filmmaking by the films coming out of the 90s Golden Age of Indie Filmmaking, but that world has not existed for a long time. The market has changed at least a couple of times, and the way the new generations approach storytelling technology and culture is different, which affects the market I’m making films for, too. So, I approach everything with an openness to learn or at least consider, with gratitude for the things I’ve accomplished and an eagerness to help and encourage others in their paths and how we can help each other along the way. It seems naive and probably is, given the more cynical realities of the studio system monopolizing everything. Still, I try to do what I can with what I have, and that’s been satisfying, and that has come to mean “success” to me. It’s not always easy, and I’m plagued with the emotional roller coaster, frustrations, and inner demons that come with being an artist and especially a filmmaker in what is essentially a rigged system. But I can’t – and don’t want to – let that stop me. So I put one foot in front of the other and kept going.
What does success mean to you?
Do whatever makes you happy, for at least a little bit every day. However, I’ve also realized, both in myself and watching other people, that sometimes stress, misery, and unhappiness make us happy, and I don’t see that as success. I’ve healthily embraced my workaholic nature – I am still present for my kids, friends and family, and my day job. I can walk away from my work to feed myself – this has been a hard-won and terrible habit that I easily slip back into. I’m productive but also able to enjoy life. I want to be something other than that person who focuses so much on the end goal, which constantly seems to be getting farther and farther away as you add more goals in front of you without appreciating the journey. Life is too short. Be happy. It’s been a process of unlearning, especially as an East Coaster who grew up in Washington, DC, where the entire culture revolves around education, power, and pushing for excellence. I mentioned that I grew up as a dancer, and the ballet world is physically, emotionally, and psychologically complex. My first heartbreak was when my dance academy informed me that I didn’t have some key structural assets (like arches) for professional ballet and that I should stick with flat classes instead of pointe to avoid injury. I left for a different semi-professional academy, eventually switching to other dance forms and choreographing my work. Still, it took me a long time to realize that I could love ballet and continue to dance without being a professional or “the best.” This concept is pervasive in America – that you should only pursue things that you can be the best at and that you have to be exceptional to have value to yourself and others. It’s poisoning us. It’s poisoning our joy and creativity. I’m not saying not to be ambitious because I still strive for as much greatness as possible, but I don’t let it eat away at me like I used to.
Pricing:
- Consulting Services (Script, Edits, Fundraising) – check out website
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.jennywaldo.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jennywaldo/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/jenny-waldo-b8473b4/
- Other: https://www.acidtestfilm.com/
