Meet Brandon Gale

Today we’d like to introduce you to Brandon Gale.

Brandon, please share your story with us. How did you get to where you are today?
I’ve always been bad at telling my own story. It all just feels like part of the journey for me, but then others are fascinated by the smallest details. I was born and raised in the San Fernando Valley, making me one of those odd filmmakers in Los Angeles who’s actually from here. Oddly enough as a kid, I never wanted to be part of Hollywood. They say if you love hotdogs, never see how they’re made. Well, I grew up in the hot dog factory.

From a young age though, I loved stories. My parents used to catch me reading books after bedtime by flashlight. I wanted to tell stories as well and set out to write poems, short stories, screenplays, and even novels (my first attempt was at the age of 10. I maxed out at 50-something pages.) I wanted to inspire like I’d felt inspired by so many authors. But every young writer is bound to come across voices who tell them it’s a fool’s errand. That if you’ve ever had writer’s block, you’re not a real writer. Even if you were a real writer, you won’t ever be great. And even if you were great, you’d suffer every day of your life trying to find the next meal. My younger-self internalized all these voices and doubts, and my early works went forgotten in a desk drawer.

I figured that if I was doomed to the white-collar American dream that every suburban 90s child was told to pursue, the least I could do was find something that would help people. I spent years as an indecisive jack-of-all-trades, bouncing between applied-mathematics, history, journalism, international relations, counter terrorism, criminal justice, and finally law. At 22, I found myself working 60+ hour weeks as a paralegal for the best real-estate law firm in New York City, and realized… I wasn’t doing any of the things I wanted to. I wasn’t helping people outside of corporate profit margins. I wasn’t telling stories. I was lost in someone else’s dream.

I felt trapped, so I did the only thing I knew would save me: I wrote. I didn’t know if anyone would find it good, but dammit, I wasn’t doing it for them. It was for me. The following two years were long weeks at the firm with nighttime forays into screenwriting, PA-ing on film sets up and down the Eastern Seaboard, performing stand-up comedy, ghostwriting for singers and rap artists, anything I could do to express myself like I’d always wanted to. I never knew if I had something to give. I was blown away when my affirmation came from the American Film Institute, the best film school in the world (you heard me, USC) in admission to their screenwriting masters program.

I always joked with my peers at AFI that I was the least objective person to talk about the school. Coming from the world I’d lived in before, every day was a dream come true. I learned more about screenwriting and storytelling than I could have fathomed, and met lifelong friends and collaborators I’m still working with after graduating last summer. Against all odds, I’m making my own way through the Hollywood hot dog factory. It’s an uncertain future, but I’m finally ok with that.

Has it been a smooth road?
I mean, compared to what? Everybody you’ve ever met is carrying struggles or trauma that have made their own road bumpy, or downright treacherous. I have friends who were smuggled into this country as children; does a childhood in the burbs really compare? I don’t know how my own experiences stack up compared to others, but I do know that my own struggles have felt adverse.

Outside of that, yeah, there have been struggles. I grew up with a… strained relationship with a family member that took years for me to understand and forgive. I was a stuttery child who spent much of that time alone, unsure how to relate to those around me. It took years to finally feel comfortable in my own skin. I was regularly beaten up for being Jewish and harassed so much that the school had to get involved. I watched as my grandparents were slowly consumed by Alzheimer’s disease. I’ve spent periods of time broke, browsing Craigslist for whatever job I could get. My early writing career was a barrage of imposter syndrome and self-doubt. All of this stuff makes great material for a stand up set, by the way.

I wear a ring that summarizes what I’ve learned time and time again. In Hebrew it says Gam Ze Ya’avor. For my goyish friends, that means “This too shall pass.” Nothing is permanent. Bad times end. So do the good ones. All you can do is appreciate the moment, learn from it, and take from it what will help you in the future.

We’d love to hear more about your work and what you are currently focused on. What else should we know?
I graduated out of AFI with a couple of projects under my belt. I co-wrote a short film at AFI called THEY WON’T LAST with directing fellow Portlynn Tagavi. The film’s a fun comedy about marriage and society’s expectations of romantic couples in the modern day. Portlynn did an amazing job with this film; it exceeded every expectation I could have had, and I’m so proud to have been a part of her amazing team. It’s currently making the rounds in the festival circuit, and has been nominated for the College Television Awards in comedy. (They very insistently tell us not to call it the Student Emmys… so here I am… NOT calling it the Student Emmys.)

On top of that, I have a few scripts I’ve been shopping around town as well, both TV and Film. One of my features, CIENFUEGOS, is based on the true story of the unsung populist hero of the Cuban Revolution. One of my pilots, MADEMOISELLE MAUPIN, is based on the life of Julie d’Aubigny, a bisexual, swordfighting opera singer in 17th Century France. In both cases, I love taking larger-than-life, quixotic characters and finding the hidden forces that drove them to break the norms of the day and age. Both have placed in contests.

Based on my portfolio, my genres tend to be comedy and history. In my opinion, they’re the two types of story that make us question what we know and reconsider our preconceived notions. History is all about showing the cracks in the existing narrative and letting the truth shine through. It functions as a mirror to our deeply flawed world. Comedy is all about flipping the expected on its head. I’ve always believed humor comes from trauma and pain; it lets you see things differently, and reveals that sometimes the things society takes for granted can actually be bullshit.

I think if there’s anything that differentiates me from other writers, it’s that… I really like collaboration. As much as I wish I had all the answers, art is a subjective medium, and if a film’s done right, everybody will bring a touch of their own magic to it. I spend hours and hours with my collaborators just talking about life, sharing memories, telling jokes, and developing our own shorthand before a single word is written. Denzel Washington, when he came and spoke to us at AFI before his lifetime achievement award, said “Always remember this: it’s not YOUR movie. It’s OUR movie. Because if it’s just your movie, it will only be as big as you are. And more than likely, that’s very small.”

Let’s touch on your thoughts about our city – what do you like the most and least?
Oh man, this question is hilarious to me. I grew up in the Valley, so I’ve lived in LA as a child AND an adult! The valley was pure suburb with some kinda cool spots, but it’s where you moved to have a family. It really is a mess of stories. You’ve got suburbanites, the weekday shoppers, the laborers, the studio executives, the pornstars, the agricultural workers, the child actors, the adult actors, the military junkies, and the list just keeps going. My high school was a gold mine of insane stories. I couldn’t wait to move away, but once I got some distance and perspective, I really realized how nostalgic I was for the place. I think the valley’s getting hipper now that people have realized rent is expensive and square footage is cool.

Back when I was a kid, though, nobody went to Hollywood. Back when I did stand up, I used to joke that “before I knew what you paid a hooker to do, I knew you would find them in Hollywood.” For locals, it still hadn’t shaken its reputation as the LA center of grunge and dead dreams. There are sections of it that are trying to capitalize on the grunge in an obscene and garish way (if you want to see me rant, ask my opinion of Hollywood & Highland), but overall I think the neighborhood’s kind of embraced it’s dark beauty and come to terms with itself. Or I’ve come to terms with it. Either way, I like it there now.

One thing I never took advantage of until I moved back to LA: hiking. The city has some of the best hikes in the US within minutes of your front door. Granted you have to dodge a few instagrammers on the weekends, but now that I have a dog I find myself hitting the trails all the time. It’s the best thing to clear your mind.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.brandongale.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bgale313/
• Twitter: https://twitter.com/bgale313

Image Credit:
The photo of 5 of us onstage is from Todd Danforth Photography; The photo of me pitching at a table (there’s a big number 7 on the table) is from Seth Pierson

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