BY CYNDI GREENING — Filmmaking is such an odd art form. Fine artists in many fields create their work and refine it—alone—and then present it to the world. Paintings, drawings, sculpture. They spring more often from the mind of a single person. Critics may comment on the work but the artist can simply say, "This is the way I have created it."

In order to make a successful film, it is vital that the filmmakers face mounds of criticism long before the critics ever see the finished film. Filmmaking demands that a group of artists come together and bring every skill they have to bear on the creation of a magical tale woven out of everyone's imagination. This can be the missing element in independent filmmaking.

I've been going to the Sundance Film Festival since 1996 and I have seen over a thousand independent films. Some of those films are wonderful and amazing. There are some, on occasion, that needed more criticism. Some films have the same writer, producer, and director which makes for a singular, independent vision. But, sometimes, those stories are weaker because they wander all over and are too "loose" to sustain the story for the viewer. They did not benefit from enough criticism and cooperation.

I have to give Jabbes a lot of credit for the way he has handled the development and production of BAD T!MING, thus far. Like me, his goal has always been to serve two masters in the making of this film. One commitment is to make the best film possible. Equally important is the commitment to accurately reveal contemporary Zambian culture. Both commitments must be manifested by the script. Based on the stage play by Samuel Kasankha, the story of Chiku and Mutinta needed to be adapted for film. It had to be developed for the camera and the visual shorthand that comes from filmmaking. As Jabbes worked the many drafts of the script, the story kept getting stronger and clearer. The dramatic throughline for Chiku strengthened and the opposition of the villains (major and minor) clarified.

It would have been interesting to see us working on it. (Ask Pam, she had the dubious distinction of being able to watch us for a couple of hours.) I'd say, "I don't get this part. It doesn't work for me. I don't think this character would do this."

Jabbes would scowl at me as he considered what I said. Sometimes he'd explain why he thought it should go that way. Sometimes, the explanations were very long. Sometimes, he'd say, "You're right, Mum. What about this ..." Sometimes, it would really be a cultural thing. I recall one scene with Mutinta and her mother when I said that I thought the mother would speak a certain way. "In Zambia, Mum, never. Never would a parent say that to a child. Never."

The real gift of this experience (and, as a producer, I must say, if only all writer/directors were like Jabbes, the world of filmmaking would be a joy!) is that the goal for both of us was always the strongest, most compelling Zambian tale.

Now, we count on all of the other members of the team to use their skills to make this script leap off the page and into the hearts and minds of viewers around the world.