The film's budget of under $15,000 was raised to cover marketing, promotion, film festival submissions, shipping fees, and travel expenses. The students were fortunate to have access to cameras and editing equipment, which was provided by the school district. Speaking from experience, it's always a huge plus to have school resources available - not only equipment, but also when it comes in the form of educators who are willing to lend their expertise. I'm impressed that these students were able not only to put together a clear and cohesive documentary - which is not an easy thing to do, by the way - but to stick through the project to the end - also not easy! (Although the latter is slightly less of a difficult commitment when there are grades riding on it.)
I don't know the specifics of the film's budget - and it does seem like a lot even for a school project - but I get the sense that this was more than just a few kids filling a class requirement. It appeared to have taken on a life of its own as a community project - and the massive auditorium full of people present at the premiere certainly is proof of that fact.
I've never been to Galveston. Heck, I've never even been to Texas. And there will likely be many audience members who haven't either. Many of us have never been through a serious storm, let alone one where our lives were in danger and, even if we made it through, we still risked losing everything.
It's easy to think of what one might do in a time like that, but sobering to watch the pure, naked truth coming from the lips of the people who lived through the reality. But more than being a plea for sympathy, Ike: A Documentary is also a story of hope. It is the story of a town that, though devastated by Mother Nature, stood together to help each other back onto its feet. It is a story that needs to be told, and I, for one, am proud of the Hurricane Story Tellers for doing so.
"My winds grew strong, my waves rose to heights I had never before achieved, and my people left. I was alone in a storm of destruction, left to experience my deepest fears - my silent swears of terror unheard, and my untold tales ignored. An isolated soul abandoned in the dark hours of an awful eruption, I hunkered down. I would survive, if only so my people could return, and know that no thunder, no wind, and no horrific flood would take me from them. I was their home, and they my family. We would return...
"We would grow silently, in the wake of this destruction, we would grow silently. My inhabitants, like myself, would face their fears; they would go against everything they thought was true and prove that a storm was no ending. Because when the sun rises, so do my people. Because when the sun rises, so does our future. Because when the sun rises, my tale is told."
-Mamie Aoughsten
