The Courier-Journal from Louisville, Kentucky • 81

.1 l4 I if iff Sfeve Hf7em shared a hug with his more experienced co-stars Ted Lange andJenilee Harrison. Withem hopes to see his movie distributed to theaters soon. independent films to know that this could be done. If this was going to happen, I was going to have to be the producer." SHOOTING WAS SLATED to begin in late 1999. Withem and his wife, Cindy Uptain Withem, financed their share by re-mortgaging some of the rental properties they own around Spencer, a tiny town 17 miles northwest of Bloomington, then raised the rest through investors.

"We're at that age where, if we don't take a risk now, the window of opportunity is going to close," said Uptain Withem, Steve's wife of 19 years and the film's executive producer. "It was time to do it." Through Harrison's agent, Withem managed to cast actor Ted Lange he played Isaac, the sassy bartender, on "The Love Boat" in the pivotal role of a preacher who helps Ely in his mission. Lucina Paquet, a veteran stage and movie actress, signed on to play Ely's mother-in-law. But the biggest coup was sitting behind the camera. If Withem had ever intended on directing "The Redemption," the idea quickly evaporated when he realized the amount of work he faced in his dual roles of actor and producer.

"I had no idea what I was getting into," he said with a laugh. "Fortunately, Carl called me." "Carl" is Carl Kress, the editor of two dozen Hollywood films and TV shows, including "The Towering Inferno," for which he won an Academy Award in 1975. Early on, Withem had e-mailed Kress seeking his advice but didn't Redford. From early in the morning until late at night, he attended every panel discussion he could get to, cornering every writer or director he could find and shoving the script into their hands. He asked them to tear it to shreds.

"The truth hurt, but I needed to hear it," Withem said. "Otherwise, you're just deluding yourself." The toughest rebuke came from Forrest Murray, producer of, among other projects, "The Spitfire Grill," one of the most successful independent films ever made. Murray did not mince words. "He didn't like some of the plot. He didn't see some of the elements coming together," Withem recalled.

"He said my homeless characters didn't seem as dark and real as they should be. He thought the monologues were too long. He felt parts of it were contrived." The truth hurt, much more than Withem expected. "I thought I was a big boy and could take it. Well, I wasn't as big a boy as 1 thought.

But I realized that I had learned enough by then to know that his criticisms were valid." Withem returned home and patched up the holes. He cut long stretches of dialogue and shifted scenes around. He grew more confident. For the first time, he began to think of "The Redemption" as a homegrown project. No one was biting, anyway, so what did he have to lose? "I realized that it wasn't going to get produced by someone else," Withem said.

"I had been to enough art houses and seen enough Withem had initially identified about 40 actresses for the role, one of four he had hoped to cast with professionals. Unwilling to limit himself, he put a wide range of talent on his wish list, from Marcia Gay Harden to B-movie queen Shannon Whirry. He contacted dozens of agents, many of whom didn't bother to call back. Others strung him along, delaying the production time and again. Withem eventually chose Harrison.

It was not your traditional Hollywood casting decision. "I had interest from three actresses, but Jenilee was the first to call back and ask 'Where do I I had done the dance with too many actresses over this role and had lost two seasons (of shooting) already. I was not going to lose another one. I had identified this group of people and the first one who signed the contract was going to get the role." WHEN HE DASHED OFF the first draft of The Redemption" in early 1996, Withem, who works as a technology recruiter for Indiana University, thought the quickest route to the screen would be selling the script to a studio. He began contacting studios, only to be told that he ii? an he contorted agents, who told him they only dealt with established writers not guys from Indiana who have been inspired by God to develop screenplays.

"So I was caught in this Withem said. "It was impossible. Extremely difficult." Realizing just how little he knew about the movies, Withem signed up for seminars at the aundance Institute in Utah, a boot camp for aspiring filmmakers founded by Robert really expect to hear back. Although he retired several years ago, Kress had never directed a film. Intrigued by the would-be filmmaker from Indiana, Kress agreed to come to Bloomington, first merely as an editor and consultant, but soon enough taking the helm as director.

More important than his expertise, Kress brought credibility to the project. "He didn't bring his Oscar with him," Withem said. "But everybody knew." Just before Thanksgiving 1999, the cast and crew gathered at the Withems' house in Spencer to celebrate the start of production. Withem was on a high. He had his cast in place, his crew assembled and his financing meager as it was lined up.

Then his wife threw him out of the house. THE FEELING WAS that Withem, bless his heart, had not quite captured the essence of Ely, the homeless man at the center of "The Redemption." This came as a surprise to Withem, who, after all, created the character. "What I didn't know was that it was a common rumbling among the cast. No one would tell me. My wife was one of the few who could." Uptain Withem pulled her husband from the party and laid it all out for him: The Mowing morning, she would drive him into Bloomington, where he would spend the next three days living on the streets.

"I was the designated messenger," Uptain Continued on Page 14 Saturday, May 5, 2001 SCENE Paqe 13.