WHEREAS, the state of modern cinema has arrived at an evolutionary crossroads in distribution, funding, production, aesthetic and intent; and

REALIZING, the truth is, Sweetheart, all movies are fake; though

UNDERSTANDING, limitations will purify your soul; yet

FURTHER REALIZING, everything is pretentious;

HOLLER PRESENTS, THEREFORE, hereby declares on this day, February 3, 2009, the fiftieth anniversary of The Day The Music Died, The Amateur (pronounced Ahma-TOUR) Theory Manifesto as a resurrection of creative sorts, and thereby instates the following guidelines and recommendations:

      The director does not exist; the actor does not exist; the screenplay does not exist. There is only the producers of images.

      The only aim is: immortality.

      All cheapness is beauty, all beauty is cheapness.

      Homemade is the most special effect.

      Your house is a movie studio.

      Your girlfriend is the next Louise Brooks. Your mother is the next Maria Falconetti.

      The only difference between "auteur" and "amateur" is taking u out and putting in your ma.

      Do not procure a microphone until your fifth film.

      Record your wife's morning sickness. You can use it.

      Thou shalt steal.

      Boasting earns roasting. Never talk about making something until you are actually making it.

      Envelopes make great scripts.

      Less talking in movies, please.

      Someone in your neighborhood is writing an amazing poem and/or hip-hop song. Everyone has a story and it is good.

      Budgets give you hemorrhoids.

      Clothes from Sears are better than your indie kid uniform.

      Shave your beard.

      Flush your polemics into the sewers.

      Nothing is cool. Only warm. We want to give you hugs.

      Celebrate us. We'll celebrate you.

      Never trust manifestos as manifestos should never be trusted.


February 3, 2009