Stationed at Home

Filmmaker's note

The most interesting characters are people in real life in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of nowhere nobody’s watching. That’s where the real magic happens.

Seven years ago I was listening to “Dusk” by Duke Ellington on loop while riding a bus from New York City to Ithaca, New York. Late at night we stopped in the forgotten city of Binghamton. I looked out at the desolate buildings and the empty streets with only a few people in the far distance. I looked up at the clear black sky, and the twinkling stars. It was mundane and fascinating, lonely and hopeful. I thought to myself, “There’s a film here.”

The tone and style of “Stationed at Home” was birthed from that unexpected stop in Binghamton that night. The feeling I had on that bus still runs through every frame of the film. It’s shot in black and white, fitting so well with the Gothic architecture of Binghamton - timeless and beautiful. Black and white also allows us to notice a small gesture or subtle emotion in a character. We can dwell in moments that are complex, both humorous and melancholic, warm and wistful. The feeling of the film also lends itself to many static shots which really let characters live in the frames.

I’ve never been interested in making films that force you to move too quickly from thing to thing and don’t allow you to dwell. I love the little spells that are cast when we pay attention to the moments we often overlook. Magic lives in those incredible collections of quiet, small moments we experience everyday in our lives, but rarely notice. That’s what “Stationed at Home” is about - the delicate specificity of our lives revealing magic in the mundane.

Making this film has been a seven-year journey. I have been singularly focused on bringing these characters and their world to life. At first I raised money by basically going to everyone I know - and we started out with a couple thousands dollars from forty-five small donors. Most of my collaborators were there from the start, even when we were far from funded. Jackson Jarvis, our brilliant cinematographer and one of my closest friends, spent years with me scouting locations. We were preparing to shoot as if it was going to happen. We even had a detailed shotlist when we had raised only 16,000 dollars. We’d take trips to Binghamton regularly, scouting locations, discovering the hidden nooks and crannies of the city. Then, after relentless hustle, it happened. Someone finally stepped in with enough money to fund the film. It kind of felt like a miracle.

The film gods were on our side; we had snow, nobody caught Covid. The Binghamton Film Office, which our movie was a catalyst in creating, was incredibly supportive. The local media was enthusiastic as well. It really felt like the entire city was rooting for us. Even the neighboring city of Syracuse threw the considerable weight of its well-established film office behind the film. We didn’t have a megabudget with huge actors, but we were a talented collection of dedicated artists. We came together and created something extraordinary.

I see the city of Binghamton as a character in the film, but the human characters in “Stationed at Home” really make the film what it is. They are incredibly specific because they’re largely inspired by people I know, but with a surreal twist. The film is an intersection of their idiosyncratic behaviors and the lonely town the characters live in. If you were to describe the ensemble on paper they don’t sound as exciting as an action hero, yet each character in the film takes us on a journey, sparking our imagination. We get hypnotized by tiny gestures revealing their inner lives, each one of them an unfolding mystery. It’s not about what’s happening to them but about who they are underneath the surface.

George is searching for truth, Harry for love, Ralph for hope, Elaine for connection, Jack for closure – they’re all searching for something. But in the end, it becomes clear that what they’re all searching for is connection, finding home in a lonely world.

To me, that’s really what life is about. Paying attention to each other, seeing the magic in the mundane. Through these forgotten, lonely characters in a forgotten lonely city, we connect to ourselves and to each other, and it gives us hope. That’s why I wrote the film. That’s why I think it needs to be seen.