The gates have officially opened and the summer movie season has begun once again, in all its CGI glory. Reams of print and gigs of storage will be devoted to the joint reverence and griping these films will inspire from professional and amateur critics, as well as bloggers with no real business writing about films.
What's going to rule the box office? What will be the designated indie darling that all the "adults" will go see? What will be the biggest disappointment?
You'll have to wait until September for the answers to those questions, and I'm not going to even attempt making a guess. What I am going to do is take all the would-be writers out there back to school for session of "What can you learn from Hollywood?" It's quite fashionable (especially in film schools) to thrust your nose in the air and piss on everything that Hollywood does, claiming it's the end of cinema. If you have that attitude, good luck to you, but stop reading right now. All I'll say in this column is: ignore Hollywood at your peril.
So, if you're a writer, your lesson this week is based on Star Trek, the reboot of the entertainment franchise that's been running since the late 60s. The film has been doing well at the BO, which you can read about if you want, and we all know that box office alone is not a judge of quality; well, at least all of us who saw Wolverine. The interesting thing is that this film seems to transcend the fanbase, and is crossing over to the movie-going public at large, something Watchmen failed to do.
How does Star Trek do it? Certainly, the special effects are up to Hollywood standards for sci-fi movies, the score is rousing and energetic, the performances are competent; in other words, all the elements are there, but frankly, that's not enough. Yes, writers, the reason for the success of the film is, in fact, the writing. There are plenty who will disagree with me, but oddly enough, they've all been bitter writers, and there's nothing more bitter than a writer who sees something better than his or her own work.
In a nutshell, Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman found a solution to the curse of any franchise film, which is how do you actually tell a new and engaging story, while not violating any of the previously established canon in the franchise? They concocted a way to both acknowledge the 40+ years of Trek entertainment, and free themselves from it at the same time. Their time-travel solution was doubly-elegant because time-travel plots are a staple of the Trek universe. What is truly admirable, from a writing standpoint, is that they use one of the most basic concepts of film - the reverse - and apply it to our story expectations. Time Travel, as a concept in most sci-film films, and especially Trek, is usually about going back to correct something that sets their current timeline back to "normal". In the film, they reverse that concept, and abandon the future "normal" which contains the 40+ years of things we know (and that the fanboys would continuously hold the filmmakers to) in favor of the new past. That the writers executed this with a grace and elan rarely seen in a Hollywood blockbuster gives them enormous amounts of credit to expend on the next inevitable film.
Take the lesson for the day and apply it to your own writing. Make it smart and clever, no matter what the subject, and you'll have a better film.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Friday, May 1, 2009
Welcome to the Party
So, fellow dems, do you weep with joy at the conversion of Brother Specter? Or, like me, do you think it smells too much like a deathbed confession? I always thought the Catholics were way off on that; rape and pillage your entire life, then repent at the last minute and you get the keys to paradise? Bite me.
So, Brother Specter, seeing his imminent political demise on the horizon, jumps ship and says his heart's been in the right place all the time. Even if I were willing to give him a pass on the "magic bullet", and I'm not, his heart was only in the right place about 30% of the time, since he voted with his -- former -- party 70% of the time. Still, I suppose it's nice to have him, now that all the hard work was done without him. Glad you finally saw the light, Brother.
There's a lot of people experiencing radical conversions in their lives: CEOs suddenly forced to live on a working-man's salary, for instance. Owners of fuel-sucking McMansions and SUVs. Everyone's talking about a new American ethic: living smaller, basing your life on a different set of priorities. Well, I'm happy for their awakening. I just wish they hadn't flushed the country down the hopper to see the light.
Because, you see, there are some of us that have been at this particular party for a long time: those of us who have struggled to live within our means and still be responsible community and world citizens, forced the whole time to watch you spend yourselves silly chasing something so empty and hollow it took a national crisis for you to realize it.
So, yeah, welcome to the party, but don't act like you invented it.
And Brother Specter: you're not a democratic solution, no matter what anyone tells you. You're old Washington and you're part of the problem. You haven't had a real job for forty years, I suggest you go try and get one in this economy and learn what it really means to be moderate.
So, Brother Specter, seeing his imminent political demise on the horizon, jumps ship and says his heart's been in the right place all the time. Even if I were willing to give him a pass on the "magic bullet", and I'm not, his heart was only in the right place about 30% of the time, since he voted with his -- former -- party 70% of the time. Still, I suppose it's nice to have him, now that all the hard work was done without him. Glad you finally saw the light, Brother.
There's a lot of people experiencing radical conversions in their lives: CEOs suddenly forced to live on a working-man's salary, for instance. Owners of fuel-sucking McMansions and SUVs. Everyone's talking about a new American ethic: living smaller, basing your life on a different set of priorities. Well, I'm happy for their awakening. I just wish they hadn't flushed the country down the hopper to see the light.
Because, you see, there are some of us that have been at this particular party for a long time: those of us who have struggled to live within our means and still be responsible community and world citizens, forced the whole time to watch you spend yourselves silly chasing something so empty and hollow it took a national crisis for you to realize it.
So, yeah, welcome to the party, but don't act like you invented it.
And Brother Specter: you're not a democratic solution, no matter what anyone tells you. You're old Washington and you're part of the problem. You haven't had a real job for forty years, I suggest you go try and get one in this economy and learn what it really means to be moderate.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Back In The Saddle
I haven't been paying attention to my blog - or others - recently, but that's not what I'm kvetching about this evening. There's a script over in the corner that's been in need of a rewrite for about two months now, and is going to have to wait a little longer. My house is gradually caving in around me as I write and I'm doing nothing to brace against chaos. I, like some of you, have a precarious relationship to the things I should be doing. I could devote an entire series of posts to procrastination, but I can't seem to get started.
Every now and then, though, I get off my ass and do something. It's been a long time since I've been behind a camera, but last weekend I started a new documentary project.
It just so happens that it was an outdoor shoot and this past weekend seemed to mark the opening of hell's gates in Philadelphia, with April temps soaring into the 90s. Apparently, I am so stooopid as to go out in the blazing sun in the heat of the day and lug camera equipment around... without sunscreen. That wouldn't have been much of a problem when I was in my early 20s and had a god-like head of hair, but now? It was like I dipped my head into a barrel of pickled beets.
Aside from that charming image and the sore muscles (it's a lot of physical work to do this stuff on your own), I had a ball. Incidentally, or maybe accidentally, I got some great footage as well. I don't know how the doc itself will end up, since it's a summer-long project, but what I do know is this: if there's something you love, and feel passionate about, that's what you should be doing. Right now. Not when it's convenient, not when you have the time, not when someone asks you to, but right now.
I got back in the saddle this weekend, and it made everything else I did, or had to do, seem less daunting.
Every now and then, though, I get off my ass and do something. It's been a long time since I've been behind a camera, but last weekend I started a new documentary project.
It just so happens that it was an outdoor shoot and this past weekend seemed to mark the opening of hell's gates in Philadelphia, with April temps soaring into the 90s. Apparently, I am so stooopid as to go out in the blazing sun in the heat of the day and lug camera equipment around... without sunscreen. That wouldn't have been much of a problem when I was in my early 20s and had a god-like head of hair, but now? It was like I dipped my head into a barrel of pickled beets.
Aside from that charming image and the sore muscles (it's a lot of physical work to do this stuff on your own), I had a ball. Incidentally, or maybe accidentally, I got some great footage as well. I don't know how the doc itself will end up, since it's a summer-long project, but what I do know is this: if there's something you love, and feel passionate about, that's what you should be doing. Right now. Not when it's convenient, not when you have the time, not when someone asks you to, but right now.
I got back in the saddle this weekend, and it made everything else I did, or had to do, seem less daunting.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Winter's Toll
As the buds break and spring slips soggily over the landscape this year, I looked back over the past month and tried to figure out just what the hell happened. I feel like I've been disconnected from just about everything; this blog is the least of things I've let slip. There's no big mystery, really, it's just that I had the end-of-winter brush with sickness. It wasn't all mine, but around casa Scriptking, when one member is down, you can't help but feel it.
Being sick is a funny thing, and it affects everyone a bit differently. Let's be clear, though, I'm talking about lowercase s sickness. Nothing serious, just pernicious. It's amazing how annoying a cold can be. A stomach virus can cast a long shadow. When you have four people living under the same roof, and two types of sick, the combinations are seemingly endless. For most of the month I managed to avoid the stuff myself, which is amazing considering I had been puked on, snotted on, and someone actually sneezed into my open mouth. The moment everyone else became ambulatory, it finally caught up with me.
But, like I said, it's only a cold, or a little extra toilet-time. I feel like a world-champ puss to complain about any of it, but still, it's the collateral effects that catch up with you. First, there's the tunnel vision. When a loved one is ill, you focus on their well-being, and all extraneous thought gets pushed into the background. Second, there's the time-suck factor. I lost count of how many times I had to visit the CVS over the past couple of weeks. Third, there's the total loss of discretionary time, which is a result of the time-suck factor. If I'm spending all that time at the CVS, that's minutes adding up to hours I don't have available to be working, relaxing, or just being human. Hence, the blog lies fallow. I'm not even going to mention the script I should be re-writing.
Weirdly, and probably because I've been watching a documentary about the space program, having a house of sick people reminds me of the process of re-entry into earth atmosphere from space. You lose communication for a time, and everything extraneous gets burned away.
Even though I acknowledge I don't have much to complain about, because everyone is relatively healthy now, it got me to thinking about how it must be for people struggling with chronic illnesses. The way I felt for the last month simply never ends for them. I really need to be more compassionate.
Having the kind of month I did also made me look back over the winter and realize that the toll for passing to the other end of the seasons was more brutal this year than last: one of my best friends died, other good friends lost a daughter, another friend suffered a near-fatal stroke. The economy isn't pinching Charon's purse at all.
I'm looking for the sun, and the warmth. I need a recharge.
Being sick is a funny thing, and it affects everyone a bit differently. Let's be clear, though, I'm talking about lowercase s sickness. Nothing serious, just pernicious. It's amazing how annoying a cold can be. A stomach virus can cast a long shadow. When you have four people living under the same roof, and two types of sick, the combinations are seemingly endless. For most of the month I managed to avoid the stuff myself, which is amazing considering I had been puked on, snotted on, and someone actually sneezed into my open mouth. The moment everyone else became ambulatory, it finally caught up with me.
But, like I said, it's only a cold, or a little extra toilet-time. I feel like a world-champ puss to complain about any of it, but still, it's the collateral effects that catch up with you. First, there's the tunnel vision. When a loved one is ill, you focus on their well-being, and all extraneous thought gets pushed into the background. Second, there's the time-suck factor. I lost count of how many times I had to visit the CVS over the past couple of weeks. Third, there's the total loss of discretionary time, which is a result of the time-suck factor. If I'm spending all that time at the CVS, that's minutes adding up to hours I don't have available to be working, relaxing, or just being human. Hence, the blog lies fallow. I'm not even going to mention the script I should be re-writing.
Weirdly, and probably because I've been watching a documentary about the space program, having a house of sick people reminds me of the process of re-entry into earth atmosphere from space. You lose communication for a time, and everything extraneous gets burned away.
Even though I acknowledge I don't have much to complain about, because everyone is relatively healthy now, it got me to thinking about how it must be for people struggling with chronic illnesses. The way I felt for the last month simply never ends for them. I really need to be more compassionate.
Having the kind of month I did also made me look back over the winter and realize that the toll for passing to the other end of the seasons was more brutal this year than last: one of my best friends died, other good friends lost a daughter, another friend suffered a near-fatal stroke. The economy isn't pinching Charon's purse at all.
I'm looking for the sun, and the warmth. I need a recharge.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Things That Give Me Gas
So, I drop my kids at school this morning and I've got the radio on and I hear this ad. Scroll down to the radio ads and play Massive New Taxes on Energy.
Since I'm in the entertainment industry, maybe I listen to these things in a different way, because I'm usually trying to critically deconstruct media to see if there are particular techniques I want to use in something I'm working on. So maybe the irony of the ad doesn't strike you. The irony of the petroleum industry trying to dodge taxes by putting together a reactionary, fear-mongering ad. The irony of the ad running in the same week as the anniversary of the Valdez disaster.
Perhaps the record profits that oil companies have been racking up have escaped your notice. Could it be that you don't realize those profiteering companies fill the automobiles produced by the very same auto industry the government is currently propping up? Don't you get that your tax dollars are fueling (pardon the pun) the same industry that's spending millions of dollars on advertising to get us to help them avoid taxes?
If you've been reading this blog at all, you understand that it's not exactly a small list, that list of things that piss me off. And I don't want to sound like a total wingnut. If you drive a truck or SUV for some business, I've really got no problem with you. On the other hand, if you're a single suburban salary-boy or girl, do you really need all that steel to drive your ass back and forth to work? Don't you see you're part of the problem? You're not keeping Detroit and its workers in business, you're keeping Exxon and its shareholders rolling in green. While the economy is in a downward spiral.
The old adage used to be middle-aged men in sports cars were trying to compensate for something. What about all the 110-lb women driving Yukons or Hummers? What are they compensating for?
Ask yourself this: when the auto industry goes under (SAAB, anyone?), who do you think is going to be in line for the next round of bailouts? When Exxon comes calling, will we have the courage to ask them what happened to all their windfall profits that they never re-invested in R&D or alternative energies?
Don't listen to their ads, this is not an industry that needs government protection; the consumers have been protecting them for too long. Don't listen to their simple-minded patriotic appeals: it's not the American way to shelter a profiteering company and its shareholders. They are not a grass-roots non-profit company looking out for your future. They're one of the few industries not feeling the pinch, yet, and they're making money off of people who don't want to take responsibility for their actions, and they're raping the planet while we fiddle.
Since I'm in the entertainment industry, maybe I listen to these things in a different way, because I'm usually trying to critically deconstruct media to see if there are particular techniques I want to use in something I'm working on. So maybe the irony of the ad doesn't strike you. The irony of the petroleum industry trying to dodge taxes by putting together a reactionary, fear-mongering ad. The irony of the ad running in the same week as the anniversary of the Valdez disaster.
Perhaps the record profits that oil companies have been racking up have escaped your notice. Could it be that you don't realize those profiteering companies fill the automobiles produced by the very same auto industry the government is currently propping up? Don't you get that your tax dollars are fueling (pardon the pun) the same industry that's spending millions of dollars on advertising to get us to help them avoid taxes?
If you've been reading this blog at all, you understand that it's not exactly a small list, that list of things that piss me off. And I don't want to sound like a total wingnut. If you drive a truck or SUV for some business, I've really got no problem with you. On the other hand, if you're a single suburban salary-boy or girl, do you really need all that steel to drive your ass back and forth to work? Don't you see you're part of the problem? You're not keeping Detroit and its workers in business, you're keeping Exxon and its shareholders rolling in green. While the economy is in a downward spiral.
The old adage used to be middle-aged men in sports cars were trying to compensate for something. What about all the 110-lb women driving Yukons or Hummers? What are they compensating for?
Ask yourself this: when the auto industry goes under (SAAB, anyone?), who do you think is going to be in line for the next round of bailouts? When Exxon comes calling, will we have the courage to ask them what happened to all their windfall profits that they never re-invested in R&D or alternative energies?
Don't listen to their ads, this is not an industry that needs government protection; the consumers have been protecting them for too long. Don't listen to their simple-minded patriotic appeals: it's not the American way to shelter a profiteering company and its shareholders. They are not a grass-roots non-profit company looking out for your future. They're one of the few industries not feeling the pinch, yet, and they're making money off of people who don't want to take responsibility for their actions, and they're raping the planet while we fiddle.
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