Progress. Nest sesh. Next air. Next clip. Next post. Next blog. Next part. Next video. Next. Progress.

But amidst the hyperkinetic motivations that maintain our sport and culture, it’s easier than you might think to lose sight of why you were first drawn to the ocean in the first place, and why you should feel fortunate for every day of your life you spend frolicking in its limitless playgrounds. Enter Scarborough, ME, filmmaker Ben Keller.

A 180-degree departure from its quirky predecessor Ishmael, BlueGreen is not only perhaps the 42-year-old’s greatest professional achievement, but also one of the most celebrated surf-themed documentaries of the last five years — crashing the international film festival circuit to earn no less than eight “Official Selection” honors, including the “Best Travel Film” at the 2008 Santa Barbara Ocean Film Festival. Embarking on the BlueGreen project back in summer of 2008, the Dubious Honor Productions owner drew on his beloved Maine wavescapes as the original inspiration for his latest opus. One that truly gets to the heart of our Great Love, while simultaneously reflecting how a little passion and perseverance can turn “a total nobody,” as Keller paints himself, into the most remarkable surf filmmaker to emerge from the Northeast since New Hampshire vet Joe Carter.

And as far as exploratory documentarians go, Keller could be in a league of his own.

ESM: We understand you’re originally a city boy.
BK: I grew up outside of Boston and went to college at NYU, majoring in Medieval History of all things. I lived in Chicago and Minneapolis at times, but eventually had enough of big cities and moved here 16 years ago for a more relaxed life. But my attraction to Maine started when I was really young and visited my cousins up here. There was something so mystical about the foggy, misty dampness of Southern Maine. The rocky cliffs and clean water and how the coastline changes so dramatically in the span of five miles. A little investigation produces some amazing imagery. I bought my first video equipment right when I moved here.

ESM: Tell us about your first surf film. 
BK: I started working for RSN [Resort Sports Network] in Portland, producing summer content for their web team. I became fast buds with [Moose County Music & Surf owner] Dana Trumann, who pushed me in the filming direction. We did a couple Nova Scotia missions and came back with some not-so-good material before it became a steady river of new equipment and new techniques. It’s funny now to think back when I shooting Hi8 out of a PVC tube. The first film I did that got any attention, Ishmael, succeeded primarily because everybody knows everybody who surfs here in the winter, which takes a certain kind of dedication. Once you earn your stripes, everyone becomes appreciative of what you’re doing, which is exposing them. The biggest lesson I learned from Ishmael was if you want to not just make surf porn, you have to have a unique and interesting story that someone on the west coast wants to watch, almost like a freak show element to it. The downside is those kinds of movies don’t always sell well in shops, because the groms don’t want to go buy something that doesn’t have Slater or Irons in it. But Ishmael does have something important to say to those who want to hear it.

ESM: Where’d you come up with the name “Dubious Honor”?
BK: When I lived in Chicago, I was entrenched in the music scene, working at small labels like Wax Track and Touch And Go. I was also in a band that toured with another band. I said to one of the guys, “Opening for another band is pretty cool.” And he said, “Yeah, kind of a dubious honor.” That stuck with me, and I put out nine records under that label name before I switched it over to a true production company. By that time I had had enough of the music world and the people in it. Some people told me if I wanted to be taken seriously, I needed to name it something like “Killer Productions,” but that’s just not me.  

ESM: Where’d you go after Ishmael?
BK: I’ve always targeted an older crowd, but as I moved forward, I tried to focus on a storyline that runs through each of the films — one serious, one silly. After Ishmael, I did Rubberman, which was a take off the Samurai Jack cartoon about a guy on an endless quest to score surf. Although it wasn’t a half-hour of guys ripping, it still made people drive further to get to the water. I have relatives that live in the Midwest, and they talk constantly about missing the ocean. I wanted to further explore that connection. Since 9/11, it seems everybody wants to be part of something bigger. The national spirit is a little more fractured now, but the surfing community is still united by something deeper than, “Yeah, dude, we like to surf.” So I pursued that theme with BlueGreen.

ESM: Describe your initial outline for BlueGreen.
BK: In my mind, there are two ways of shooting a documentary. One, you get a basic concept, start shooting, and see what happens when you come out of it; and the other is to stick with your outline all the way through. I tend to merge the two, and I think I did that pretty successfully with BlueGreen. I knew I had to step it up a notch from Ishmael, both production-wise and cast-wise. On the Ishmael tour, I talked with some people at Steelehouse Distribution and they said sellable names are a valid concern. So one of the first things I did was look for professionals who are outspoken about their connection beyond the surf contests.

ESM: So not just professional surfers per se, but actual surfing professionals?
BK: Absolutely. Sean Collins really is the puppet master of surfing, and his input was vital. From a two-and-a-half-hour interview, you get two minutes of what he said, which perfectly conveys weather and the timing of swells. That’s also why we kept the evolutionary expert, Dr. Stephen Cunnane, who’s the only person in the film that doesn’t surf. I can’t tell you how many people who previewed the movie told me to cut him out. But the core of all human development happened near the ocean — offering food, protection, play. We wouldn’t care about tools or art or any of that if we were forced to spend all our time starving or avoiding being eaten by something else. As he discussed his theories on the screen, I’d watch people’s eyes start to glaze over. But in a minute and a half, the point is made. Nobody who comments on the movie says that’s their favorite part, but it’s in the mix and the message is delivered, if even on a subconscious level.

ESM: Academicians are one thing, but what challenges did you encounter when trying to assemble surfing’s bigger names?
BK: That was a huge trick. I’m totally unknown as far as players go.  We have some really talented surfers up here in the Northeast, great still shooters like LaVecchia and Nevins, and amazing filmmakers like Joe Carter. But there aren’t 12 cameras on the beach like some places in California. So when you tell certain surfers you’re from Maine and you have this project, some of them are like, “Who are you? Uh, thanks, but I’ll pass.” So I’m hugely thankful for the time surfers like Layne Beachley gave me. We tracked her down at the U.S. Open of Surfing, but all she wanted to do was get in the water. So we were like, “Damn, we missed her.” But then we saw her crossing the street later. I quickly introduced myself and she said, “Yeah, let’s do it right here.” Crappy lighting, shitty sound, but hey, we got the interview [laughs]… As it turns out, she was phenomenal — incredibly intelligent, well spoken, and right on the ball. Once we locked a couple of these people down in interviews, they were amped enough about the concept of the film to offer up other people. Like Anna Santoro, the wannabe surfer girl at the beginning, hooked us up with Liz Clark, who was sailing around the world to find surf and eventually got on a lot of big radar screens. Sean Collins suggested Layne Beachley. Keith Malloy was on the World Tour but decided that wasn’t working for him, which fit perfectly with what we were trying to convey. Keith was hugely supportive and actually came out here to see the movie. That got us in with Wingnut, who was our narrator. That kind of snowball effect happens only when the spirit is there. Our approach of looking to create something beyond boosting big airs on the North Shore, actually trying to get to the heart of something, is what inspired people to get others involved.

ESM: Why the name BlueGreen?
BK: The last interview I did was with this off-the-grid waterman, Mike Beauregard, on an unusually warm January day in Maine. We were on his boat talking about what attracts life to the water here, which has a sort of blue-green color. So that’s what inspired the title.

ESM: Encounter any hurdles in post-production?
BK: This was the longest post I’ve ever had in my entire life. I shot everything in HD this time. I wanted the footage to be as pristine as possible and edit it uncompressed, so I had to go out and make a significant investment in new equipment. I had to get five terabytes of space, newer drives that would jibe with the Mac, and a cranking machine that can deal with HD uncompressed. I must have shot 80 hours worth of footage, so the most tedious part was going through and culling the best of the best from those tapes. Then I have to make a living during the day to pay the bills, hang out with the kids from the time they get home from school until they go to sleep at nine, and then I’m at it until two in the morning. And I did it through all types of natural disasters — trees falling on the house, basement flooding. You have to expect that kind of stuff’s gonna happen in post, but this one seemed a little more troubled.

ESM: How vital was the film festival circuit to BlueGreen’s success?
BK: I’ve never made a commercial, straight-to-market kind of surf movie. I make films and try to get them into festivals. That takes a solid chunk of time. Then you tour and that takes time. We started going to festivals in the fall of 2008 and started our tour in April of 2009, so the post seems ancient now, but the fact is it takes a long time to shoot and post a film. Plus, a lot of film festivals don’t want you showing it anywhere else, which puts a damper on moving forward. After doing the festival circuit for a while, it became clear which ones were gonna show it. Then I moved on to the tour, the DVD, and the premieres.

ESM: Were you expecting such a warm reception?
BK: No. Ishmael got into one festival [laughs]. So if I had gotten into one, I would’ve been totally amped. I’m psyched that the international interest in BlueGreen was so huge. We showed it in France, Argentina, England, Peru… Word got out and I wasn’t the one putting it out there. Mar Del Plata is one of the top seven film festivals in the world. Sure, we didn’t make it into Sundance, but we got into Mar Del Plata, which was unbelievable. It baffled us.

ESM: You keep saying “us.” Who assisted you in this project?
BK: First and foremost, my PA and sound guy Matt Williams was huge, helping not only in the production of BlueGreen, but the touring, as well. To a lesser degree, Andy Laats from Nixon put me on to Keith Malloy. Amanda Young, who designed the cover art, did a killer job under a super tight deadline. All the bands were totally cool about giving up their music without much of a fight, which is by far the worst part of making a film. Sean Collins gave us a base from which to operate. The amount of goodwill was hugely inspirational for me, and I want to believe the film’s subject matter had something to do with it.

ESM: How did you deal with adverse reactions?
BK: I had a small screening group here in Maine following me along. I showed them the initial edits, and we had a screening in town to raise money to help finance it. They told me it was too long, and that’s what I wanted them around for, to give me insight I was lacking from staring at the screen for so many hours. I cut 20 minutes out and got it down to an hour and ten before credits. But what happened was once people saw BlueGreen was being accepted, they were less critical. In terms of festivals, once you get into one, you start getting invited to others. Oftentimes when I’m feeling bad about my abilities, like, “Man, I’m just a medium-sized fish in a small pond,” I just look at BlueGreen’s cover art and think, “Well, at least I’m on the radar.” And if I do another film, Mar Del Plata will know who I am. If you don’t put yourself out there and invest the money and time, you’re never gonna know. So I think the festival circuit was worth it. The perception of your work increases for the positive the more accolades you get.

ESM: Where are you going from here?
BK: I guess the next logical step is to make my production company a full-on moneymaking enterprise. To get there, I want to mix a few more artistic things into RSN’s surf travel show, Perfect Days Surf, which you can find at www.PerfectDaysSurf.com. I also have a couple other TV episodes that are in the pilot stage right now. It really depends on who I’m in partnership with. But my independent stuff will still be under Dubious Honor. When things are in the pilot stage, you really have to keep them under wraps. Because I’m nobody in the middle of nowhere, I’ve lost ideas to people after opening my mouth. We don’t have a name for our next film yet, but it will be more upbeat than my last few, which had very chill music. This will make you want to tap your foot and get the girls up and dancing. No deep message, just a really fun film.

ESM: So how do you feel about your place in the surf cinema genre now?
BK: That’s an interesting question. Because of where I live, I’m not sure I fit into the surf niche too well. I know people like my films, but I don’t think they cater to the surf shop DVD-buying crowd, which is a blessing and a curse. I’m free from having to worry about what’s hot, but that also means I’m not selling huge numbers to the shops. But without the breadth and depth of the niche of surf film, there wouldn't be the opportunities I’ve had with BlueGreen. And I’m not out here on the fringe by myself. There are others trying to make “surf” an integral part of a larger story. One that really stands out for me is Sliding Liberia. Seeing that film alongside my own at a festival was a real eye-opener for me. Another was Mundaka, though that stayed more entrenched in the surf world. Films nowadays, even with more of a focus on story, need to be visually appealing and there are so many innovators out there in terms of usage of equipment and angles. I think I have a couple under my hat, too, including a couple shown in BlueGreen that will be perfected in the next film. Half of the festivals we got into are real documentary film festivals, not just surf-centric. That’s an important distinction to make because that’s the direction I see myself going. I want to be taken seriously as a filmmaker. I love the niche market, but I’m not driven to get distribution from VAS or Steelehouse. I like the fact that the surf film niche is this big round ball, and I’m on the surface of that ball. Not so deeply embedded that I can’t explore other avenues. And given my resources here, I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to [laughs].

ESM: Why not just move somewhere with better resources?
BK: I have no desire at all to leave Maine, and I know what that means in terms of being a surf filmmaker. It means I’m probably not gonna get Slater or Andy Irons in any of my films anytime soon and I need to work with what I have. Approach my films in a way that explores different ideas. Fortunately for me, those ideas have fit nicely within the larger surfing paradigm.

For more on Ben Keller, Dubious Honor Productions, and BlueGreen, visit www.BlueGreenConnection.com or www.DubiousHonor.com