On Michigan

The North side of Iron Mountain, Michigan, with Millie Hill near the top.

The Upper Peninsula of Michigan is a rugged strip of land that juts out of northern Wisconsin like a cocked pistol. The region is surrounded by massive, unforgiving lake systems that amplify both the Winter cold and the Summer humidity. Its climate is so extreme that farming isn’t lucrative and I don’t think it would have been settled at all were it not found to be riddled with metal. So, the area is forever stamped with the physical and cultural legacy of the mining industry. Villages and towns were created (and killed) by the companies that came in, hollowed out the hills and left. I grew up among the exotic ruins of ventilation shafts, was warned about open pits that sometimes appeared suddenly in the forest and would collect discarded shards of ore that give off a violet-blue iridescence in just the right light. It was a good place for an imaginative boy to be.

My brother and I trace our family roots back three generations to my Great-Grandfather, Gust, who immigrated to Iron Mountain, Michigan from Sweden and ended up on the east side, specifically “A” Street, which is nestled just below Millie Hill. That old hill has served as a common playground that links my Grandfather and Father’s childhood with my own. It was a refuge for me in the summer; a place just across the alley where I could be alone and where my brother and I could work out scenarios that would maybe serve as precursors for the stories we tell now. My parents still live on A Street, just a block up from where my Dad was born. Whenever I come home, I always make a point of stepping outside on my first night (regardless of the temperature) and checking out that familiar street again. There’s nothing like a clear northern sky at night to calm the heart, I’ll tell you that.

Stepping out for a view of A Street…

Most of the films I’ve been involved with have been made where I happen to live at the time, and have, on some level, addressed where my head was at in that particular space. For instance, I now see that our western short, Jonas Blake, was in part a response to how exotic the Southwest was for me at the time, and how displaced I felt at that point in my life in such a strange place. Over the course of the 9 years I’ve lived in California, I’ve visited home at least once a year. My love for the area, its people and my family there has never flagged despite the distance, and over time, I felt that it was important to go back and apply what I’d learned while I was away to a creative project that utilized Michigan intimately. When our latest project Northstar was being written, I knew early on that it was a turning point for us as filmmakers, and somehow it felt right to mark that change by going back home to shoot it.

Once that decision was made, everything fell into place. Vague locations that we described in the script began to conform to particular places my brother and I remembered in Iron Mountain, whether it be the Ford Plant, the Braumart theater or a very, very specific spot on the back of Millie Hill that I remembered from some afternoon when I was 11. Looking at my records, I see we began taking Michigan-based pictures with Northstar in mind around December of 2009. At this time, the script had yet to be fully written, so we were definitely taking cues from the land itself to help shape the contours of our story. I know for instance that we rewrote the entire ending of the film to be based around an abandoned airforce base when shooting at KI Sawyer became feasible. So you see, Upper Michigan is now inextricably linked with Northstar. It simply couldn’t be made anywhere else, or we’d lose the soul of the thing.

Now, shooting a movie anywhere comes with it’s own set of logistical challenges that can alter the scale of a given project or even stop it from happening at all. When it comes to making Northstar in Upper Michigan, let’s take a look at some broad facts: Here we are, a bunch of 30 something guys that want to make a sizeable science fiction film in a region where few films are shot and where even fewer resources are available for such undertakings. With the story nearing it’s finished state in late 2012, I decided it was time to reach out to a select list of family friends who might guide our team to parties that would help us figure out if it was even possible to shoot a movie in the area. By the summer, we had a script, and I was ready to present the possibility of making Northstar to the city.

Looking back, I can point to that evening in July as the moment where my intuition about making our movie in the UP was validated. A floodgate of support opened up that in retrospect, I should have expected, but wasn’t totally prepared for at the outset. When news of a possible film production coming to the area started to spread, more people got in touch with us to offer support and resource advice. As Summer eased into Fall, we noticed a quiet but steady flow of people become aware of what we were trying to do in Michigan. I wish I could fully express what this grassroots support has meant to us, especially as we navigate a sometimes discouraging modern film market out here in Hollywood that seems hellbent on producing product without originality, intelligence or soul.

By the end of the year, we felt it was time to introduce Northstar to Iron Mountain with an Open House that was open to everyone. Here we introduced the project, how we planned to make it work and gave local residents a chance to sign up as actors or extras. Beyond introducing the project itself, I think what mattered most to me was reconnecting with the community as an adult. I left when I was 18 and here I am at 34 with a last name that people recognize mostly due to my Father. I wanted people to get re-acquainted with his sons personally. I wanted people to be able to come to us directly and talk about how they might bring their gifts to bear on the project. In this way, we were able to use Northstar as a means of forming a new, mature relationship with our hometown. What a gift this is.

Seth Anderson, Nathan  Anderson and Jason Hagen at the Northstar Open House in Iron Mountain.

In the week after Christmas, I was able to take new photographs of the area for our website. Some new members of our team that live locally were able to provide access to locales that I never would have been able to get to myself and it led to a wonderful string of days were all the hecticness leading up to the Open House (Oh, and Christmas) gave way to the quiet, stark solitude of the forest that inspired me as a kid. There I was, outside with new friends, approaching a feeling I get rarely, but chase continually. For me, the core of what a movie can be is only found once you’ve locked in on what you are trying to say, where you want to shoot it and and who you want to do it with. All three of these things have to synchronize before it feels right. Well, it felt very right up there that afternoon in the hills that surround my hometown. You should have been there with us.

Upper Michigan can be an unforgiving place that demands a hardy type of person. A new friend I made said it best one night at dinner: “You wouldn’t live up here if you weren’t adventurous.” I sometimes get angry when I think about how outside groups or companies have come in to the UP, used its resources and then left many communities adrift. But then I’m reminded of this adventurous spirit that runs through the soul of the land like a live current. The people that remain truly love the area and are finding new and innovative ways to chart a future course. On some level, I’ve always felt it was an enchanted place, and this year I’ve been given continual proof. You don’t just need to look in the sky to see it, or hear the wind fill the trees to know it. You can can feel it in a handshake. You can see it in the eyes. You can hear it in the voices. The land and its people are all one big beautiful thing. If our film manages to capture just a bit of that spirit, well… honestly what could be better?

– Seth Anderson, January 2014.

Seth at home above the trees…

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