By Jennifer Merin

Margaret Brown grew up around music—her Alabama-based songwriter dad composed Every Which Way But Loose and scores for Clint Eastwood movies. But it wasn't until Margaret was a grad filmmaking student at

NYU's Tisch School that she heard legendary singer/songwriter Townes Van Zandt, the subject of her documentary, Be Here To Love Me for which she's been short-listed for an Independent Spirit Award.

Brown says: My roommate and I played dueling records, seeing who could spin the most interesting, obscure, moving song. When he played Townes "Waiting to Die", it blew me away. It's about looking back when you're older, about choices you've made, how you fucked up. It seemed an older person had written the song, but Townes wrote it in his closet when he was 21—never having lived anything that happened in it. But I didn't know that until years later, when I made Be Here to Love Me.

Brown became obsessed with Van Zandt's music, but didn't contemplate making a movie about him until two years later, shortly after his death in 1997.

The director explains: "I was in Austin, where Townes is legendary. I read an article about how Townes lived his art in an extreme way–self-destructively, giving over his life, throwing everything away to write the perfect song. I thought of making a film, but the project didn't get underway until five years later. Life got in the way."

MERIN: When you decided to make it, how did you find the money?

BROWN: Most [of the backers] were Texas foundations—Texans feel a lot of pride in Townes. But, the first grant came accidentally—because I was drinking with…a friend who loves Townes. We were talking about my idea to do a film. I wasn't pitching, but later they called saying they'd like to put $25,000 into the project. I was amazed. I'd no idea our barroom conversation would be the trajectory that I'd be funded…With that $25,000, I made a trailer, which garnered other funding.

[Texan and Slackers director] Richard Linklater helped me reach out. He helps a lot of younger filmmakers in Austin. He let me use his office and his optical printer he has in his office. He's been real cool. I was incredibly lucky.

MERIN: Why did you make a documentary instead of a feature?

BROWN: Initially, it was going to be more of a hybrid, with more reenactments. But I never shot them because it became clear as I

interviewed people who knew Townes and started building the film, that it

was more interesting as a documentary. I mean, could you create a better Guy Clark? Or Willie Nelson? Or Townes, himself? From the beginning, I was aware that Townes created myths around himself—like saying "I don't envision a very long life for myself, I designed it that way," and telling how he fell from a four story building to see what it felt like.

Townes isn't innocent about the narrative he's creating.

MERIN: Did you find the documentary process challenging in that at the start you didn't know what you'd discover in the end?

BROWN: I loved that. I loved talking to people I wouldn't have encountered in my normal life. It's scary, too. Sometimes I thought I

wouldn't be able to finish the film. Music rights were complicated—there are lawsuits around Townes' music, which is weird because he's not

super-famous and his catalog doesn't make much money. Maybe it's because people think it'll become valuable—or because they're emotional about Townes, want to own a piece of him. I pondered that a lot, but left it out of the film because it's not Townes' life.

MERIN: Was there much material you couldn't use?

BROWN: Tons. Everybody has Townes stories—like Townes always losing at poker. Someone said they'd won his car in a game. Somebody else told me Townes bet his second wife, Cindy—who was 17 when he was 32—and lost. Cindy went home with the guy; Townes just kept playing.

MERIN: What do you most admire about Townes?

BROWN: Well, not that. If someone bet me in a poker game, I'd be upset.

For me, Townes' story is the heroic quest for the perfect song. The golden fleece. Artists must experience what they're writing about—or making films about. They can't overhear it in a coffee shop. Townes experienced everything for his music. But after making the film, I see how selfish that can be. You make promises to people—a wife, kids. It's selfish to leave them, saying "Oh, I'm following my muse." That's not exactly what Townes did, but his behavior was hurtful to people around him and I feel sad about it.

I never met Townes, never saw him play, so much of my film comes from my idea of him. I wanted the film to be poetic—introducing

him in stages, not his through line from birth to death.

MERIN: If you were making a feature, who'd you cast as Townes?

BROWN: Maybe Billy Crudup. Then, as the older Townes, maybe Tommy Lee Jones.

Be Here to Love Me

Directed by Margaret Brown

Opens Fri., December 2nd at the Angelika