Who needs film school? You only need a Flickr feed, some random zooms and cuts, and an arty soundtrack to create a buzzworthy visual tone poem! Look out, Sundance!
An interesting use of technology. Brings up Eisenstein- and Kuleshov-type questions about our brain's extraction of meaning and narrative from sequential images.
Is a film still pretentious if it's an algorithm that's directing?
Friday, January 20, 2006
Thursday, January 19, 2006
BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN
Certain shelves are groaning with statuettes, with more to come. Random thoughts and SPOILERS ahoy.
I can tell I liked BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN because it's stayed with me, the memory of it sort of deepening and melding over time.
DONNIE DARKO was another film that had this lingering effect, so maybe it's just a Jake jones.
I knew Heath Ledger had this in him from his tiny but shattering role in MONSTER'S BALL, and of course Jake has proven chops. But former lightweights Anne Hathaway and Michelle Williams? Damn.
Michelle may seem to have the meatier role, with Anne hidden behind adding machines and big Texas hair for most of the movie, but just watch girlfriend go in the phone call scene where she tells Ennis of Jack's death. Subtle work from an unlikely quarter.
It takes no small amount of skill to craft a short story (and it is short) into a feature length screenplay as Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana did, even if Mr. McMurtry is grumpy about computers. Did hieroglyphic scribes bitch about the "dry embrace" of papyrus?
Much of the best dialogue was retained from Annie Proulx's story. "If you can't fix it, you gotta stand it." Jack's spotlight "I wish I knew how to quit you" speech, lifted wholesale. Many interior thoughts appear onscreen as spoken lines.
The movie fleshes out Jack's story in particular, adding more about Lureen and her father. The latter scenes form an interesting counterpoint and foundation for when you later meet Jack's own father, and glimpse that stunted relationship.
The story says right out that Jack's ashes were never going back to Brokeback Mountain, but the movie doesn't need to. You just know.
I don't think the waitress subplot works. Ennis is damaged when she meets him, and the movie doesn't illustrate why she falls in love with this broken, closed-off man. For his part, she's a convenience, maybe even a bit of a beard. She's just a one-liner in the short story.
Amazing visuals throughout, from the gorgeous, wild "Wyoming" (see comments) countryside to its threadbare prairie towns.
While the reappearance of the shirts is a standout of the film -- a classic emotional gutpunch -- the story handles their backstory a bit better. Because it's prose, you can learn when you see the shirts that Ennis lost his back on the mountain.
In the film, Heath says as they leave, "I can't believe I forgot my shirt," which rankled me as an archetypal tell.
Why not show the shirt, forgotten at the campsite, as they pack? Or show Ennis rooting in his knapsack in the truck, not finding it?
Of course, Larry and Diana have been presented awards on TV and I haven't, so what do I know.
Love that Ennis re-hangs the shirts at the end, putting his outside Jack's, protective and enveloping.
Another great metaphor? The corraling of Ennis's spirit into smaller and smaller spaces, from mountainside to shabby house to small apartment to tiny trailer. Will this guy ever be happy again? Can he be?
I'm of two minds on the added scenes with Ennis' daughter. The sentimentalist in me appreciates the addition of a thread that shows that Ennis still can connect with another human being, and that offers some hope for him. But that hope is not present in the short story, and seems a little dishonest for his character.
Who thinks Ennis actually went to his daughter's wedding?
I can tell I liked BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN because it's stayed with me, the memory of it sort of deepening and melding over time.
DONNIE DARKO was another film that had this lingering effect, so maybe it's just a Jake jones.
I knew Heath Ledger had this in him from his tiny but shattering role in MONSTER'S BALL, and of course Jake has proven chops. But former lightweights Anne Hathaway and Michelle Williams? Damn.
Michelle may seem to have the meatier role, with Anne hidden behind adding machines and big Texas hair for most of the movie, but just watch girlfriend go in the phone call scene where she tells Ennis of Jack's death. Subtle work from an unlikely quarter.
It takes no small amount of skill to craft a short story (and it is short) into a feature length screenplay as Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana did, even if Mr. McMurtry is grumpy about computers. Did hieroglyphic scribes bitch about the "dry embrace" of papyrus?
Much of the best dialogue was retained from Annie Proulx's story. "If you can't fix it, you gotta stand it." Jack's spotlight "I wish I knew how to quit you" speech, lifted wholesale. Many interior thoughts appear onscreen as spoken lines.
The movie fleshes out Jack's story in particular, adding more about Lureen and her father. The latter scenes form an interesting counterpoint and foundation for when you later meet Jack's own father, and glimpse that stunted relationship.
The story says right out that Jack's ashes were never going back to Brokeback Mountain, but the movie doesn't need to. You just know.
I don't think the waitress subplot works. Ennis is damaged when she meets him, and the movie doesn't illustrate why she falls in love with this broken, closed-off man. For his part, she's a convenience, maybe even a bit of a beard. She's just a one-liner in the short story.
Amazing visuals throughout, from the gorgeous, wild "Wyoming" (see comments) countryside to its threadbare prairie towns.
While the reappearance of the shirts is a standout of the film -- a classic emotional gutpunch -- the story handles their backstory a bit better. Because it's prose, you can learn when you see the shirts that Ennis lost his back on the mountain.
In the film, Heath says as they leave, "I can't believe I forgot my shirt," which rankled me as an archetypal tell.
Why not show the shirt, forgotten at the campsite, as they pack? Or show Ennis rooting in his knapsack in the truck, not finding it?
Of course, Larry and Diana have been presented awards on TV and I haven't, so what do I know.
Love that Ennis re-hangs the shirts at the end, putting his outside Jack's, protective and enveloping.
Another great metaphor? The corraling of Ennis's spirit into smaller and smaller spaces, from mountainside to shabby house to small apartment to tiny trailer. Will this guy ever be happy again? Can he be?
I'm of two minds on the added scenes with Ennis' daughter. The sentimentalist in me appreciates the addition of a thread that shows that Ennis still can connect with another human being, and that offers some hope for him. But that hope is not present in the short story, and seems a little dishonest for his character.
Who thinks Ennis actually went to his daughter's wedding?
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Hell-Bent for Leather Update
At the beginning of this year, I set a goal for myself to finish a new feature script by the end of February. Of course, the NaNoWriMo folks are making me look like a slacker for compressing a writing timeline into a fortnight, the ambitious bastards.
Well, after a few hours at The Office this weekend, I now have a full outline of HBFL (that's the mindset, not the script's title) and will be ready to get into pages shortly.
I liked The Office, once I got past the minor absurdity of paying six bucks an hour for the privilege of sitting in someone's storefront. The place is nicely appointed, hushed as a library, with comfy Aeron chairs and Bose noise-canceling headphones. Those things are magic. I was sitting right next to a quietly burbling fountain and homeboy got canceled. Not a burble.
Well, after a few hours at The Office this weekend, I now have a full outline of HBFL (that's the mindset, not the script's title) and will be ready to get into pages shortly.
I liked The Office, once I got past the minor absurdity of paying six bucks an hour for the privilege of sitting in someone's storefront. The place is nicely appointed, hushed as a library, with comfy Aeron chairs and Bose noise-canceling headphones. Those things are magic. I was sitting right next to a quietly burbling fountain and homeboy got canceled. Not a burble.
Gamer Love
If you and your sugarpie aren't in the same guild, your evenings may go a little something like this.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Give It Up for Johnny on the Synths
Scott the Reader recently replied to Fun Joel's scribosphere questionnaire with another, a suggestion to list a favorite line of dialogue that you've written.
Here's one of mine:
(Holding up index finger) "I can count on one finger the number of conversations I've had with them since I moved out. And it's not this finger."
Clever, I think. I think it's clever enough that I'm starting to wonder if I may not have written it, but that I picked it up somewhere, unwittingly internalized it, and spat it back out again as my own.
It should be noted that I'm paranoid.
But I fear this because it's happened once before, in rehearsal for one of my plays.
DIRECTOR: You know that's a line from SIXTEEN CANDLES.
ME: What? Where?
The director describes the scene. I remember it.
ME: Well, shit.
Writers, especially screenwriters who are by their very nature media hounds, are all about synthesizing their experience of the world, absorbing and combining bits and pieces of what they see and hear and learn and feeding that into what they create.
From KING KONG to SHREK to SCRUBS, which recently contained a throwaway DEADWOOD reference, conscious quotations and homages both verbal and visual are on the rise. Also, too, are the unconscious ones, as the creators of these texts (Warning! Warning! Literary criticism term off the port bow!) exhibit through their work more and more of the media and information saturation that's part of our modern lives.
Is this a problem? Maybe. I don't think any of us look forward to the day when a TV show or movie is nothing but lazy quotes of stuff that came before.
Pause for laughter.
Yeah, that's already happened, lots of times. So let's buck the trend.
Examining your work with a critical eye helps. So does making sure you're feeding your brain with books and music and art and nature and current events and travel in addition to what can be TiVo'd. But synthesized observation is part and parcel of what it means to be a creative person.
Of course, there's a point at which "synthesized observation" becomes "plagiarism." Anyone, um, recognize that finger line?
Here's one of mine:
(Holding up index finger) "I can count on one finger the number of conversations I've had with them since I moved out. And it's not this finger."
Clever, I think. I think it's clever enough that I'm starting to wonder if I may not have written it, but that I picked it up somewhere, unwittingly internalized it, and spat it back out again as my own.
It should be noted that I'm paranoid.
But I fear this because it's happened once before, in rehearsal for one of my plays.
DIRECTOR: You know that's a line from SIXTEEN CANDLES.
ME: What? Where?
The director describes the scene. I remember it.
ME: Well, shit.
Writers, especially screenwriters who are by their very nature media hounds, are all about synthesizing their experience of the world, absorbing and combining bits and pieces of what they see and hear and learn and feeding that into what they create.
From KING KONG to SHREK to SCRUBS, which recently contained a throwaway DEADWOOD reference, conscious quotations and homages both verbal and visual are on the rise. Also, too, are the unconscious ones, as the creators of these texts (Warning! Warning! Literary criticism term off the port bow!) exhibit through their work more and more of the media and information saturation that's part of our modern lives.
Is this a problem? Maybe. I don't think any of us look forward to the day when a TV show or movie is nothing but lazy quotes of stuff that came before.
Pause for laughter.
Yeah, that's already happened, lots of times. So let's buck the trend.
Examining your work with a critical eye helps. So does making sure you're feeding your brain with books and music and art and nature and current events and travel in addition to what can be TiVo'd. But synthesized observation is part and parcel of what it means to be a creative person.
Of course, there's a point at which "synthesized observation" becomes "plagiarism." Anyone, um, recognize that finger line?
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Failing Gracefully
"M.A.D." is a standout Season 1 episode of the universally excellent VERONICA MARS.
A girl wants to dump her abusive boyfriend. The dilemma she's in: the boyfriend roofied her at a party once, and has incriminating, raunchy video of her that he will post online if she leaves him. He's not interested when Veronica approaches him about playing nice, and gambits to retrieve the video go nowhere.
Finally, with no other choice, Veronica arms the girl with potent ammo of her own. The boyfriend's a homophobe. Veronica mocks up a website that looks like a love letter he's created to another guy. The girls threaten to release this to his friends and the Naval Academy, his dream school, if he publishes the video. This is the Mutually Assured Destruction of the ep's title.
And?
It doesn't work.
The jerk releases the video and the girl is humiliated.
She does not retaliate with the website, being a better person than he (and arguably better than Veronica, who would've fired back with both barrels not to mention coming up with the idea in the first place).
Veronica, smart, capable Veronica, failed. And this makes her more interesting. More accessible, more human.
Of all the episodes of CSI and COLD CASE that I've seen (and that would be all of them), some of the ones that stick most in my memory are the ones where the bad guy gets away or someone screws up. Where, due to circumstance or error, our heroes just can't bring the case across the finish line.
It doesn't happen often, and shouldn't. These aren't the Keystone Kops, after all. But the occasional setback helps ground the show in some semblance of reality -- shit happens to us all -- offers rich character opportunities, and keeps the stakes interesting.
In a serialized drama, failure is almost a necessity. Speaking of diverging from reality, I nearly gave up on PRISON BREAK early on when things kept going so swimmingly for Michael.
But when things started going wrong, they got interesting. Losing his toes? Groovy. Stuck with psycho T-bag in on the plan? Fabulous.
This is true of more than TV, of course. Beyond the expected twists and reversals of a well-plotted story, movies who put failure at their center can really be something special.
A heist movie is a heist movie, right? But have the scheme go south and you get the spare, heartbreaking A SIMPLE PLAN.
There's a whole subgenre of compelling, inspiring sports movies where The Good Guy Loses, because winning the big game is not what those stories -- ROCKY, TIN CUP, MURDERBALL -- are really about.
Tom Cruise in MISSION IMPOSSIBLE is a crashing bore because the cat. Can. Do. No. Wrong. How much more watchable is RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, THE FUGITIVE, or AIR FORCE ONE? Give me Harrison Ford getting beat up and left for dead, any day.
A girl wants to dump her abusive boyfriend. The dilemma she's in: the boyfriend roofied her at a party once, and has incriminating, raunchy video of her that he will post online if she leaves him. He's not interested when Veronica approaches him about playing nice, and gambits to retrieve the video go nowhere.
Finally, with no other choice, Veronica arms the girl with potent ammo of her own. The boyfriend's a homophobe. Veronica mocks up a website that looks like a love letter he's created to another guy. The girls threaten to release this to his friends and the Naval Academy, his dream school, if he publishes the video. This is the Mutually Assured Destruction of the ep's title.
And?
It doesn't work.
The jerk releases the video and the girl is humiliated.
She does not retaliate with the website, being a better person than he (and arguably better than Veronica, who would've fired back with both barrels not to mention coming up with the idea in the first place).
Veronica, smart, capable Veronica, failed. And this makes her more interesting. More accessible, more human.
Of all the episodes of CSI and COLD CASE that I've seen (and that would be all of them), some of the ones that stick most in my memory are the ones where the bad guy gets away or someone screws up. Where, due to circumstance or error, our heroes just can't bring the case across the finish line.
It doesn't happen often, and shouldn't. These aren't the Keystone Kops, after all. But the occasional setback helps ground the show in some semblance of reality -- shit happens to us all -- offers rich character opportunities, and keeps the stakes interesting.
In a serialized drama, failure is almost a necessity. Speaking of diverging from reality, I nearly gave up on PRISON BREAK early on when things kept going so swimmingly for Michael.
But when things started going wrong, they got interesting. Losing his toes? Groovy. Stuck with psycho T-bag in on the plan? Fabulous.
This is true of more than TV, of course. Beyond the expected twists and reversals of a well-plotted story, movies who put failure at their center can really be something special.
A heist movie is a heist movie, right? But have the scheme go south and you get the spare, heartbreaking A SIMPLE PLAN.
There's a whole subgenre of compelling, inspiring sports movies where The Good Guy Loses, because winning the big game is not what those stories -- ROCKY, TIN CUP, MURDERBALL -- are really about.
Tom Cruise in MISSION IMPOSSIBLE is a crashing bore because the cat. Can. Do. No. Wrong. How much more watchable is RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, THE FUGITIVE, or AIR FORCE ONE? Give me Harrison Ford getting beat up and left for dead, any day.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Memed!
Tagged, I'm it! Fun Joel started this scribosphere meme and Shawna handed it along to me. Here goes:
ONE (1) earliest film-related memory:
Drive-in double feature of BUGSY MALONE and THE BAD NEWS BEARS.
TWO (2) favorite lines from movies:
"Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night."
ALL ABOUT EVE
"Wallace Beery. Wrestling picture. What do you need, a roadmap?"
BARTON FINK
THREE (3) jobs you'd do if you could not work in the "biz":
(I'm including theater in biz, and excluding it here)
Librarian
Astronomer
Computer programmer
Could I be any more of a girlgeek?
FOUR (4) jobs you actually have held outside the industry:
Concessionaire at art house movie theater (I guess this is a little industry-related)
Drama teacher (um, this too)
Sandwich maker
Campus recycling center serf (hard, stinky work. Left the next quarter to work the multimedia desk at the liberry)
THREE (3) book authors I like:
Michael Chabon
George R. R. Martin
Barbara Ehrenreich
TWO (2) movies you'd like to remake or properties you'd like to adapt:
SO PROUDLY WE HAIL! - Little known 1943 movie about WWII combat nurses in the Pacific, starring Claudette Colbert, Paulette Goddard, and Veronica Lake in the performance of her career. Harrowing and gritty, and a welcome reminder that the Greatest Generation wasn't all guys.
"Doom Patrol" - Grant Morrison's run of this comic book is straight-up absurdy stuff. Superheroes in need of thorazine and a hug. Dark, funny, and probably completely unfilmable.
ONE (1) screenwriter you think is underrated:
Paul Weitz. I just watched IN GOOD COMPANY. This and ABOUT A BOY are about as poignant, funny, and authentic dramas as I've seen, featuring shaded, complex portraits of men trying to become more themselves.
THREE (3) people I'm tagging to answer this meme next:
Bill, Ras, and Shawn.
ONE (1) earliest film-related memory:
Drive-in double feature of BUGSY MALONE and THE BAD NEWS BEARS.
TWO (2) favorite lines from movies:
"Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night."
ALL ABOUT EVE
"Wallace Beery. Wrestling picture. What do you need, a roadmap?"
BARTON FINK
THREE (3) jobs you'd do if you could not work in the "biz":
(I'm including theater in biz, and excluding it here)
Librarian
Astronomer
Computer programmer
Could I be any more of a girlgeek?
FOUR (4) jobs you actually have held outside the industry:
Concessionaire at art house movie theater (I guess this is a little industry-related)
Drama teacher (um, this too)
Sandwich maker
Campus recycling center serf (hard, stinky work. Left the next quarter to work the multimedia desk at the liberry)
THREE (3) book authors I like:
Michael Chabon
George R. R. Martin
Barbara Ehrenreich
TWO (2) movies you'd like to remake or properties you'd like to adapt:
SO PROUDLY WE HAIL! - Little known 1943 movie about WWII combat nurses in the Pacific, starring Claudette Colbert, Paulette Goddard, and Veronica Lake in the performance of her career. Harrowing and gritty, and a welcome reminder that the Greatest Generation wasn't all guys.
"Doom Patrol" - Grant Morrison's run of this comic book is straight-up absurdy stuff. Superheroes in need of thorazine and a hug. Dark, funny, and probably completely unfilmable.
ONE (1) screenwriter you think is underrated:
Paul Weitz. I just watched IN GOOD COMPANY. This and ABOUT A BOY are about as poignant, funny, and authentic dramas as I've seen, featuring shaded, complex portraits of men trying to become more themselves.
THREE (3) people I'm tagging to answer this meme next:
Bill, Ras, and Shawn.
KING KONG
Finally saw it. I'm with Ken Levine on this one. Peter Jackson shows distressing signs of an incipient case of George Lucas Disease.
Both are great filmmakers and proven storytellers who need to have their hands slapped when reaching for the Bigger is Better cookie jar too often.
KING KONG sports better dialogue than Episodes Crap through Crud (note that it's hard to do worse than "Hold me like you did by the lake on Naboo, when all we had was our love.") but the movie is just as bloated and reliant on oddly ponderous action scenes that feel like levels in the videogame, not integral sequences that evolve the story.
Random thoughts and SPOILERS follow.
Why show just one uber-T. Rex when you can show three?
Why spend two minutes showing the ship neeeeeeearly crashing on the rocks when you can show ten?
Why invent a few kinds of horrible bugs when you can throw a dozen concept designs at the screen?
Uh, because it's boring and dilutes impact?
The Shelob scenes in THE RETURN OF THE KING were far scarier than KONG's bug pit. JURASSIC PARK's single T. rex and mere three raptors created much more memorable, iconic set pieces (Ack! They can open doors!). I saw KONG yesterday and already am forgetting what chase happened when.
The ancient town looked pretty cool, sort of like Osgiliath, post-orc renovation.
Did we need the dinosaur bungee cord scene?
Another successful motion capture performance by Andy Serkis. Most of the emotional resonance in the movie came from the saddest, biggest digitized monkey in the world.
Naomi Watts did a nice job considering that 80% of her screen time is looking in horror at something out of frame.
While I appreciate the nifty twist of having the bookish writer be the hero, I don't know of any playwrights who can rappel down mountains, stunt drive, or wrangle oversize bats. Well, maybe Lillian Hellman, but that's it.
Product placement is somehow cute and quaint when it's period. I hate that I think this.
Plot threads are left dangling like dinosaur bungee cords. What happens to the weaselly actor at the end? And what made him un-weasel back on the island and come back to help save everyone in the bug pit?
Why waste our time with scenes setting up the Little Jimmy subplot then give it no resolution?
And maybe I'm looking for too tidy or modern a wrap-up, but why doesn't Jack Black's Wellesian movie producer come to realize that he's the architect of all this havoc? Why not let him understand how much he's destroyed, and the price of his egotism?
Yes, I know "Beauty killed the beast" is a line from the 1933 original, but when Black intones it I wanted to scream, "It was you, you moron! Not to mention dozens of sailors, natives, and Depression-era extras. Get a good lawyer."
It's no small irony that Jackson appears in a cameo in one of the biplanes that sends the grand ape plummetting onto 34th Street.
Still, Ang Lee's pre-BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN project was THE HULK. I live in faith that PJ can keep his inner fanboy in check and let the story take the reins again.
Both are great filmmakers and proven storytellers who need to have their hands slapped when reaching for the Bigger is Better cookie jar too often.
KING KONG sports better dialogue than Episodes Crap through Crud (note that it's hard to do worse than "Hold me like you did by the lake on Naboo, when all we had was our love.") but the movie is just as bloated and reliant on oddly ponderous action scenes that feel like levels in the videogame, not integral sequences that evolve the story.
Random thoughts and SPOILERS follow.
Why show just one uber-T. Rex when you can show three?
Why spend two minutes showing the ship neeeeeeearly crashing on the rocks when you can show ten?
Why invent a few kinds of horrible bugs when you can throw a dozen concept designs at the screen?
Uh, because it's boring and dilutes impact?
The Shelob scenes in THE RETURN OF THE KING were far scarier than KONG's bug pit. JURASSIC PARK's single T. rex and mere three raptors created much more memorable, iconic set pieces (Ack! They can open doors!). I saw KONG yesterday and already am forgetting what chase happened when.
The ancient town looked pretty cool, sort of like Osgiliath, post-orc renovation.
Did we need the dinosaur bungee cord scene?
Another successful motion capture performance by Andy Serkis. Most of the emotional resonance in the movie came from the saddest, biggest digitized monkey in the world.
Naomi Watts did a nice job considering that 80% of her screen time is looking in horror at something out of frame.
While I appreciate the nifty twist of having the bookish writer be the hero, I don't know of any playwrights who can rappel down mountains, stunt drive, or wrangle oversize bats. Well, maybe Lillian Hellman, but that's it.
Product placement is somehow cute and quaint when it's period. I hate that I think this.
Plot threads are left dangling like dinosaur bungee cords. What happens to the weaselly actor at the end? And what made him un-weasel back on the island and come back to help save everyone in the bug pit?
Why waste our time with scenes setting up the Little Jimmy subplot then give it no resolution?
And maybe I'm looking for too tidy or modern a wrap-up, but why doesn't Jack Black's Wellesian movie producer come to realize that he's the architect of all this havoc? Why not let him understand how much he's destroyed, and the price of his egotism?
Yes, I know "Beauty killed the beast" is a line from the 1933 original, but when Black intones it I wanted to scream, "It was you, you moron! Not to mention dozens of sailors, natives, and Depression-era extras. Get a good lawyer."
It's no small irony that Jackson appears in a cameo in one of the biplanes that sends the grand ape plummetting onto 34th Street.
Still, Ang Lee's pre-BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN project was THE HULK. I live in faith that PJ can keep his inner fanboy in check and let the story take the reins again.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Hell-Bent for Leather
I'm back from vacation, quads newly jellied by climbing about 176 Maya pyramids, and still bleary enough that I misread a label at the store on Tuesday and bought a bag of baby arugula instead of baby spinach. Arugula, which is Italian for "yuppie chump weeds," is expensive and bitter to the point of being painful. The first wife of lettuces.
So. The January question is, existing obligations aside, what to tackle writing-wise as the new year kicks off?
The goal: a new feature script by the end of February.
I'm not starting cold. I have a premise, character sketches, rough outline, handful of punchy moments, and a title, but that's it. Two months from early prep to first draft, the version I fondly call the crap draft.
Anyone else want to play?
Ready, set, go!
So. The January question is, existing obligations aside, what to tackle writing-wise as the new year kicks off?
The goal: a new feature script by the end of February.
I'm not starting cold. I have a premise, character sketches, rough outline, handful of punchy moments, and a title, but that's it. Two months from early prep to first draft, the version I fondly call the crap draft.
Anyone else want to play?
Ready, set, go!
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Scribosphere Movie Night?
Fun Joel got me thinking. We all like movies, we all like talking about movies. Would folks be into getting together to see one sometime, say something that's bubbling to the top this awards season? We could decamp afterwards for a tasty beverage and witty debate. Or maybe just the beverage.
Plenty of good choices: MUNICH, SYRIANA, BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, MATCH POINT, THE RINGER. I kid.
What do you think?
Plenty of good choices: MUNICH, SYRIANA, BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, MATCH POINT, THE RINGER. I kid.
What do you think?
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Golden Apples, Oranges, Kumquats
Today the WGA announced its nominees for the best screenplays of 2005, the usual mixed bag cinematic buffet that reminds me to get out of the damn house to see some movies and/or stop filling my Netflix queue with well-intentioned, earnest, thoughtfully paced foreign films that I will never watch.
ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
CINDERELLA MAN, Screenplay by Cliff Hollingsworth and Akiva Goldsman, Story by Cliff Hollingsworth
CRASH, Screenplay by Paul Haggis & Bobby Moresco, Story by Paul Haggis
THE 40 YEAR-OLD VIRGIN, Written by Judd Apatow & Steve Carell
GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK, Written by George Clooney & Grant Heslov
THE SQUID AND THE WHALE, Written by Noah Baumbach
How nice to see a comedy in there! That Murrow guy was hilarious.
ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, Screenplay by Larry McMurtry & Diana Ossana, Based on the Short Story by Annie Proulx
CAPOTE, Screenplay by Dan Futterman, Based on the Book by Gerald Clarke
THE CONSTANT GARDENER, Screenplay by Jeffrey Caine, Based on the Novel by John le Carré
A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE, Screenplay by Josh Olson, Based on the Graphic Novel by John Wagner and Vince Locke
SYRIANA, Written by Stephen Gaghan, Based on the Book "See No Evil" by Robert Baer
Cowboy-on-cowboy action will not be denied, people.
ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
How nice to see a comedy in there! That Murrow guy was hilarious.
ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
Cowboy-on-cowboy action will not be denied, people.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Merry Merry!
I'm going off the grid until after New Years. While the jungle resort where I'll be staying has WiFi (!), I will be too busy drinking things involving rum and bananas and trading Indiana Jones quotes with The Boyfriend to keep the hell fresh.
In the meantime, watch some holiday movies, hug your loved ones, pick up a major award. Play some games, even the kind that don't beep or give Jack Thompson agita. Write if you feel like it and don't if you don't.
I leave you with a piece I wrote during my three-year stint as a columnist on classic movies for Girls on Film, which is not the kind of website you think it is. Years ago the site was bought by Bolt and then by Oxygen (yes, Oprah's internet play) and then closed down, so I have no idea who owns the rights to my columns but I know it's not me. Please don't sue.
Anyway, enjoy. I've kept the dated refences intact partially for your amusement (Shasta McNasty! VCRs!) and mostly because I am lazy.
Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, Festivus, Chrismukkah, and all the very best wishes for the new year!
A Classic Christmas
Heaven help us, Ricky Martin has a Christmas special. Amidst the seasonal faves "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and "The Year Without a Santa Claus" (starring Heat-Miser and his chilly bro), TV this time of year chokes on Very Special Episodes of shows that were dreck even before getting dunked in eggnog. Me, I'm headed straight for the video store. Come along before the cast of "Shasta McNasty" goes caroling.
The undisputed champeen of holiday flicks, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE (1946) stands up just fine under the ritual yearly viewing. For both of you who haven't seen it yet, LIFE is about Everyguy George Bailey (James Stewart) on the worst night of his life. Sent to save him is Clarence (Henry Travers) an angel who not only hasn't earned his wings yet, but has by all accounts "the I.Q. of a rabbit."
George's story is one of kindness and self-sacrifice, starting from saving his brother's life as a kid. Putting aside his own grand dreams, George grows up to see everyone around move on to apparently bigger and better things. Pal Sam Wainwright (Frank Albertson) makes a fortune in plastics. Brother Harry (Todd Karns) goes to college and becomes a decorated Navy pilot. For his part, George quietly but surely becomes a pillar of his town, marrying the radiant Mary (Donna Reed) and starting a family.
Missing money, threat of arrest, and a string of other indignities drive George to the brink of suicide. Clarence counters by showing George what life would be like had he not been born: not a pretty picture. The town teems with sleazy bars and pawn shops. People are mean and hard. Harry and all the men he would've saved as a pilot are dead. George sees the light and runs home to a triumphant Christmas Eve, the community he served for so long now coming joyfully to his aid.
If you think LIFE is just a goody-goody holiday tale, think again. It zings with humor and stellar performances, stuffed with more terrific lines than a fruitcake has nuts. It's a wonderful film (pardon the pun), from the charming walk home that George and Mary share after their first date to their magical wedding night. More than just about Christmas or angels, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE is about the often-forgotten fact that each of us touches many other lives, a sentiment well worth remembering this time of year.
Check out WHITE CHRISTMAS (1954) if you want to score big with your Great Aunt Marge. Bing Crosby, musical numbers, Vermont through Hollywood eyes... it's 1950s eye candy with a yuletide twist that'll have Aunt Marge swooning into her Pink Lady.
Bob Wallace (Crosby), a well-known crooner, and Phil Davis (Danny Kaye), a wannabe entertainer, first meet as soldiers in WWII. After the war, Phil joins Bob in his act, the pair becoming hugely successful. A businesslike look-see at the singing Haynes Sisters -- Betty (Rosemary Clooney) and Judy (Vera Ellen) -- turns into more as the gents join the gals at a Vermont inn for their holiday gig.
Who should be running the inn but their old General, now retired and finding business dangerously slow. Our heroes decide to give the General a whopper of a Christmas gift, and pull all kinds of strings to move their sellout Broadway show up to the mountains. Naturally, love blooms among the fir trees for one and all.
Make no mistake, WHITE CHRISTMAS is a musical. Aside from the numbers sensibly staged in clubs and rehearsals, these folks break into song at the drop of a top hat, from musing about snow on the train to serenading each other over liverwurst sandwiches. And break out the Benadryl if you're allergic to huge production numbers-- this is old-style Hollywood, with the dancers and spangles to prove it. WHITE CHRISTMAS is also trademark post-war fare, with appropriate respect for the veterans of World War II. The soldier element might be enough to keep Uncle Mort awake, but don't bet on it.
So don't let holiday TV turn you into a Scrooge. Your VCR can be your window on Christmases Past. Grab some vids, mull the cider and snuggle close to the ones you love. Happy Holidays!
In the meantime, watch some holiday movies, hug your loved ones, pick up a major award. Play some games, even the kind that don't beep or give Jack Thompson agita. Write if you feel like it and don't if you don't.
I leave you with a piece I wrote during my three-year stint as a columnist on classic movies for Girls on Film, which is not the kind of website you think it is. Years ago the site was bought by Bolt and then by Oxygen (yes, Oprah's internet play) and then closed down, so I have no idea who owns the rights to my columns but I know it's not me. Please don't sue.
Anyway, enjoy. I've kept the dated refences intact partially for your amusement (Shasta McNasty! VCRs!) and mostly because I am lazy.
Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, Festivus, Chrismukkah, and all the very best wishes for the new year!
A Classic Christmas
Heaven help us, Ricky Martin has a Christmas special. Amidst the seasonal faves "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and "The Year Without a Santa Claus" (starring Heat-Miser and his chilly bro), TV this time of year chokes on Very Special Episodes of shows that were dreck even before getting dunked in eggnog. Me, I'm headed straight for the video store. Come along before the cast of "Shasta McNasty" goes caroling.
The undisputed champeen of holiday flicks, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE (1946) stands up just fine under the ritual yearly viewing. For both of you who haven't seen it yet, LIFE is about Everyguy George Bailey (James Stewart) on the worst night of his life. Sent to save him is Clarence (Henry Travers) an angel who not only hasn't earned his wings yet, but has by all accounts "the I.Q. of a rabbit."
George's story is one of kindness and self-sacrifice, starting from saving his brother's life as a kid. Putting aside his own grand dreams, George grows up to see everyone around move on to apparently bigger and better things. Pal Sam Wainwright (Frank Albertson) makes a fortune in plastics. Brother Harry (Todd Karns) goes to college and becomes a decorated Navy pilot. For his part, George quietly but surely becomes a pillar of his town, marrying the radiant Mary (Donna Reed) and starting a family.
Missing money, threat of arrest, and a string of other indignities drive George to the brink of suicide. Clarence counters by showing George what life would be like had he not been born: not a pretty picture. The town teems with sleazy bars and pawn shops. People are mean and hard. Harry and all the men he would've saved as a pilot are dead. George sees the light and runs home to a triumphant Christmas Eve, the community he served for so long now coming joyfully to his aid.
If you think LIFE is just a goody-goody holiday tale, think again. It zings with humor and stellar performances, stuffed with more terrific lines than a fruitcake has nuts. It's a wonderful film (pardon the pun), from the charming walk home that George and Mary share after their first date to their magical wedding night. More than just about Christmas or angels, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE is about the often-forgotten fact that each of us touches many other lives, a sentiment well worth remembering this time of year.
Check out WHITE CHRISTMAS (1954) if you want to score big with your Great Aunt Marge. Bing Crosby, musical numbers, Vermont through Hollywood eyes... it's 1950s eye candy with a yuletide twist that'll have Aunt Marge swooning into her Pink Lady.
Bob Wallace (Crosby), a well-known crooner, and Phil Davis (Danny Kaye), a wannabe entertainer, first meet as soldiers in WWII. After the war, Phil joins Bob in his act, the pair becoming hugely successful. A businesslike look-see at the singing Haynes Sisters -- Betty (Rosemary Clooney) and Judy (Vera Ellen) -- turns into more as the gents join the gals at a Vermont inn for their holiday gig.
Who should be running the inn but their old General, now retired and finding business dangerously slow. Our heroes decide to give the General a whopper of a Christmas gift, and pull all kinds of strings to move their sellout Broadway show up to the mountains. Naturally, love blooms among the fir trees for one and all.
Make no mistake, WHITE CHRISTMAS is a musical. Aside from the numbers sensibly staged in clubs and rehearsals, these folks break into song at the drop of a top hat, from musing about snow on the train to serenading each other over liverwurst sandwiches. And break out the Benadryl if you're allergic to huge production numbers-- this is old-style Hollywood, with the dancers and spangles to prove it. WHITE CHRISTMAS is also trademark post-war fare, with appropriate respect for the veterans of World War II. The soldier element might be enough to keep Uncle Mort awake, but don't bet on it.
So don't let holiday TV turn you into a Scrooge. Your VCR can be your window on Christmases Past. Grab some vids, mull the cider and snuggle close to the ones you love. Happy Holidays!
Monday, December 19, 2005
Doc Doc Goose
One nice thing about the holiday TV hiatus is that it gives us all a chance to catch up on DVDs. A number of documentaries bubbled to the top of my Netflix queue:
MAD HOT BALLROOM - Delightful. When I heard about this movie, I figured it'd be one of those heavy-handed deals about kids lifting themselves up from poverty through dance. Or growing up and learning how to deal with their identities and the *gasp!* opposite sex. Or coping with a high-pressure competitive situation.
While MHB touches on all these, it's with a light, deft hand. The filmmakers don't have any obvious agenda, except that of showing the joy these young dancers express as they merengue and rhumba.
MARCH OF THE PENGUINS - Amazing story, amazingly filmed. Really just a National Geographic special writ large, it's nonetheless an astonishing tale, full of sweetness, perserverance, loss, and hot penguin-on-penguin action. It's not afraid to make you choose sides (seals are mean!) and goes to some lengths to anthropomorphize the penguins, who already look like a scrum of maitre d's.
Although the making-of doc behind the doc tends to the overwrought ("Do I darken the purity of the White Continent with words?"), it provides more birdy footage plus context for the filming, which included a near-fatal whiteout that sidelined production for a month.
MURDERBALL - Apparently audiences found quadriplegic rugby players less cuddly than penguins. Too bad. This story is far more gripping and immediate. Lively and lecture-free, MURDERBALL zings with the energy and personality of its stars. Yeah, these guys are in wheelchairs, but they're just as ornery, proud, horny, independent, and occasionally juvenile as anyone else.
At its heart a sports movie, MURDERBALL follows Team USA and their Canadian rivals, and the drama runs high. A parallel story thread about a newly rehabbed young man trying to come to terms with the shifted definitions of his life provides both bitter and hopeful moments.
The most heartbreaking scene for me, though, came at the very end, where the team demos quad rugby for future players among Iraq War veterans, all of who look about fourteen years old.
MONDOVINO - Not as well-shaped as these others, MONDOVINO zips from vineyard to vineyard around the world, painting a sobering (har!) picture of the impact on the wine industry of globalization, technology, and high-profile consultants.
One year, an Orellaia red sells for 35 Euros. The winery partners up with American juggernaut Mondavi, and the next year the wine's at 110 Euros and named the best in the world. Not, importers and retailers note, because the wine got better, but because it was made more palatable to the market and critics. Kinda makes me feel like a slob for buying my wines from the bottom shelf at Vons.
Goose! WINGED MIGRATION - Okay, I saw this ages ago in the theater, but it was top of mind because:
(1) It's another incredible story about the natural world.
(2) Even more than MARCH OF THE PENGUINS makes you gasp, "How did they film that?!"
(3) Though narration-free (Morgan Freeman must've been booked), it contains myriad mini-narratives, some funny, some sad (crabs are mean!).
(4) It's the DVD selection of the month in the cat area of the kennel some friends are using to board their feline over the holidays. Yes, in LA even the cats have screening rooms.
While MHB touches on all these, it's with a light, deft hand. The filmmakers don't have any obvious agenda, except that of showing the joy these young dancers express as they merengue and rhumba.
Although the making-of doc behind the doc tends to the overwrought ("Do I darken the purity of the White Continent with words?"), it provides more birdy footage plus context for the filming, which included a near-fatal whiteout that sidelined production for a month.
At its heart a sports movie, MURDERBALL follows Team USA and their Canadian rivals, and the drama runs high. A parallel story thread about a newly rehabbed young man trying to come to terms with the shifted definitions of his life provides both bitter and hopeful moments.
The most heartbreaking scene for me, though, came at the very end, where the team demos quad rugby for future players among Iraq War veterans, all of who look about fourteen years old.
One year, an Orellaia red sells for 35 Euros. The winery partners up with American juggernaut Mondavi, and the next year the wine's at 110 Euros and named the best in the world. Not, importers and retailers note, because the wine got better, but because it was made more palatable to the market and critics. Kinda makes me feel like a slob for buying my wines from the bottom shelf at Vons.
(1) It's another incredible story about the natural world.
(2) Even more than MARCH OF THE PENGUINS makes you gasp, "How did they film that?!"
(3) Though narration-free (Morgan Freeman must've been booked), it contains myriad mini-narratives, some funny, some sad (crabs are mean!).
(4) It's the DVD selection of the month in the cat area of the kennel some friends are using to board their feline over the holidays. Yes, in LA even the cats have screening rooms.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Happy Horrordays
I'm pretty sure Sartre came up with that "hell is other people" bon mot after coming off a 10-hour shift working retail during Christmas. It's well-known among the dramaturgical cognoscenti that the first drafts of NO EXIT were about three retail clerks doomed to work the Friday after Thanksgiving for all eternity.
That day's alternate moniker, Black Friday, was not coined by the media or by merchants, mind you, but by cash register slaves and stock jockeys. I know -- I used to be one at a Borders Books.
We're rounding the bend to December 25th, which is when they come out of the woodwork, those people who've waited until the last minute to shop and as such are full to the eyeballs with panic and guilt in addition to whatever intrinsic assholery they may bring to the party.
So, I'd like to extend a holiday wish.
Please have a kind word for the folks at Candles R Us or Trendy But Generic Clothing or Ottomans! Ottomans! Ottomans!.
Their feet hurt.
They make crap money.
They've been asked to find a book for a customer who can only say that it's pink. Title, author, genre? "No, but it's pink! Jesus, are you some kind of goddamn idiot? Fine, I'll just get it online."
Knock yourself out. You think I get paid on commission, bitch?
Retail workers get sick more often than those in other industries, because you bring in your germs and leave them all over the merchandise.
You mess up their sections and then complain that you can't find anything.
You decide you want to charge your purchase instead of using cash only after the clerk has finished your transaction, which as any retail survivor (and David Sedaris in his brilliant SANTALAND DIARIES) can tell you is a gauntlet of calling over the manager, initialing this, filing that, and starting all over.
Don't assume this is the only job they can get or that they're stupid.
Your mileage may vary, but in my store many of us were working to save some money for grad school. One guy was headed to Georgetown for his MBA. I was between Stanford and NYU. We even had one woman who had been a lawyer for years and just decided she wanted to do something different.
Retail is different from the law. When you're a lawyer, you can put the bad people in prison. In retail, you smile and give them a complimentary bookmark and mentally record them for when you have a private hitman at your disposal. I'm looking at you, Pink Book.
As I used to say, any day in retail you can walk away from is a good day.
So ask your clerk how they're doing. Listen, smile, wish them well. They're worthy and needful of any kindness right about now.
Except for the clerks at Barnes and Noble. Those guys are freakin' morons.
That day's alternate moniker, Black Friday, was not coined by the media or by merchants, mind you, but by cash register slaves and stock jockeys. I know -- I used to be one at a Borders Books.
We're rounding the bend to December 25th, which is when they come out of the woodwork, those people who've waited until the last minute to shop and as such are full to the eyeballs with panic and guilt in addition to whatever intrinsic assholery they may bring to the party.
So, I'd like to extend a holiday wish.
Please have a kind word for the folks at Candles R Us or Trendy But Generic Clothing or Ottomans! Ottomans! Ottomans!.
Their feet hurt.
They make crap money.
They've been asked to find a book for a customer who can only say that it's pink. Title, author, genre? "No, but it's pink! Jesus, are you some kind of goddamn idiot? Fine, I'll just get it online."
Knock yourself out. You think I get paid on commission, bitch?
Retail workers get sick more often than those in other industries, because you bring in your germs and leave them all over the merchandise.
You mess up their sections and then complain that you can't find anything.
You decide you want to charge your purchase instead of using cash only after the clerk has finished your transaction, which as any retail survivor (and David Sedaris in his brilliant SANTALAND DIARIES) can tell you is a gauntlet of calling over the manager, initialing this, filing that, and starting all over.
Don't assume this is the only job they can get or that they're stupid.
Your mileage may vary, but in my store many of us were working to save some money for grad school. One guy was headed to Georgetown for his MBA. I was between Stanford and NYU. We even had one woman who had been a lawyer for years and just decided she wanted to do something different.
Retail is different from the law. When you're a lawyer, you can put the bad people in prison. In retail, you smile and give them a complimentary bookmark and mentally record them for when you have a private hitman at your disposal. I'm looking at you, Pink Book.
As I used to say, any day in retail you can walk away from is a good day.
So ask your clerk how they're doing. Listen, smile, wish them well. They're worthy and needful of any kindness right about now.
Except for the clerks at Barnes and Noble. Those guys are freakin' morons.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Detention
Things all we delinquent writers should pen one hundred times, if only that didn't keep us from actual writing:
Only writing is writing.
Reading about writing is not writing.
Rereading something you've already written is not writing.
Rewriting is writing, but the obsessive polish and re-polish and re-re-polish of the same eight pages for the last year and half is not.
Outlining is writing.
Taking a walk to think about writing is not writing if it ends in a latte and two pairs of new shoes.
Blogging about writing is not writing.
Blogging about bad haircuts is certainly not writ--
Ahem. Gotta go.
You too!
Only writing is writing.
Reading about writing is not writing.
Rereading something you've already written is not writing.
Rewriting is writing, but the obsessive polish and re-polish and re-re-polish of the same eight pages for the last year and half is not.
Outlining is writing.
Taking a walk to think about writing is not writing if it ends in a latte and two pairs of new shoes.
Blogging about writing is not writing.
Blogging about bad haircuts is certainly not writ--
Ahem. Gotta go.
You too!
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
I Look Worse in Hats
For some reason, the very nice but misguided folks who've cut my hair of late think I can pull off the choppy, layered look. The kind that says, "Are you READY TO RAAAWWWK, DETROIT?!"
I'm not Joan Jett, people. I'm not even Joan Lunden. I'm edgy as a bagel.
The conversations with the stylist (lordy, call them hairdressers at your peril) typically go like this:
STYLIST: I think some more layers in here will be fun!
ME: It won't be too severe, right?
STYLIST: No, no. Wispy. Sweet. Fun!
ME: That "fun" is scaring me.
STYLIST: Just some architectural chunks in there.
(Pause while I blink and try to parse this. Stylists love to use words like "architectural" that have a different meaning in the parallel reality of chairs that can go up and down via a foot pedal)
ME: Okayyyy... Will it be subtle?
STYLIST: Oh, yeah. Subtle. But fun!
And I end up with a haircut that makes me look like I should be holding Courtney Love's purse as she yarfs into a Vegas toilet somewhere.
I'm in meetings where I want to be taken seriously as a Credible Creative Person and I'm now rockin' a 'do that says Off Her Meds and possibly Flight Risk.
Fun.
I'm not Joan Jett, people. I'm not even Joan Lunden. I'm edgy as a bagel.
The conversations with the stylist (lordy, call them hairdressers at your peril) typically go like this:
STYLIST: I think some more layers in here will be fun!
ME: It won't be too severe, right?
STYLIST: No, no. Wispy. Sweet. Fun!
ME: That "fun" is scaring me.
STYLIST: Just some architectural chunks in there.
(Pause while I blink and try to parse this. Stylists love to use words like "architectural" that have a different meaning in the parallel reality of chairs that can go up and down via a foot pedal)
ME: Okayyyy... Will it be subtle?
STYLIST: Oh, yeah. Subtle. But fun!
And I end up with a haircut that makes me look like I should be holding Courtney Love's purse as she yarfs into a Vegas toilet somewhere.
I'm in meetings where I want to be taken seriously as a Credible Creative Person and I'm now rockin' a 'do that says Off Her Meds and possibly Flight Risk.
Fun.
Wednesday Web
Martin, a former story editor and producer for "The Twilight Zone," knows how to give his characters layers and complex motivations. While ostensibly fantasy, the Song of Ice and Fire books (particularly the first couple), tend to the Shakespearean in scope and theme. They feature messy, violent politics, Tudor vs. Plantagenet-style, rather than twee fairytaling around the countryside. Oh, and there's a lot of sex.
At the heart of this is what Raph calls the Pixar lesson, namely that story deserves respect, as does the audience. Amen.
Monday, December 12, 2005
O Holy Crap
I'm at a Christmas party and no one I know is there.
For the shy (INFJ in my case, if you're into all that Meyers-Briggs stuff), this is a pretty solid definition of hell.
I attended a couple of earlier festivities with The Boyfriend, and the poor bastard was as usual stuck talking to me all night, but he's not at this shindig.
This is an alumni thingie for my college. Those functions tend to hit me where I live because everyone there was valedictorian and is clever and poised. This particular alumni thingie is in Los Angeles, so not only was everyone there valedictorian, but also homecoming queen or king. The ones that weren't now run record labels.
In such situations I can't even take refuge by tucking into the free pinot because I don't want to be That Girl, you know, the one who after midnight turned into Tara Reid and fell into the pool.
So I'm stone-cold sober, socially paralyzed, and wishing I was home watching Christmas movies.
Speaking of! The real reason for this post, some of my seasonal movie faves. In no particular order:
IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE - Darker and funnier than you remember.
HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS - WARNING! VERY IMPORTANT!! I mean the ANIMATED version, with charming Chuck Jones art and plummy voice work by Boris Karloff. Not the Jim Carrey redundancy, for the love of Fah who for-aze.
WHEN HARRY MET SALLY - Not strictly speaking a Christmas movie, but many of the story's key moments happen at the holidays. The season of groveling, revelatory Mallomars.
MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL - I'm serious. Michael Caine gives excellent deadpan as Scrooge in the face of adorableness (Fozziwig!) and catchy songs, but the movie gets scary and sad right when it's supposed to. All that and mini Miss Piggies. Get over yourself and rent it.
THE THIN MAN - Another not-quite-Christmas movie, but who cares when you have William Powell shooting ornaments off the tree with a BB gun while Myrna Loy watches, amused, in a new fur coat? In a movie that glimmers with champagne dialogue, this wordless moment is a standout.
THE GODFATHER - Okay, okay, I'll stop cheating, but the Godfather saga is framed around moments rich with ritual and family significance: weddings, baptisms, the holidays. I love Al Pacino's tense and terrifying vigil at the creepy, Christmas-quiet hospital.
A CHRISTMAS STORY - Some time ago I came across a rant against this movie, which I just don't get. So it's faux nostalgic. Nostalgia is false almost by definition. A CHRISTMAS STORY is funny, sweet, just arch enough, and yes, authentic, capturing the tribulations and joy of being a kid at yuletide. Plus Peter Billingsley now is poker buddies with Vince Vaughn, so there's that.
What about you? Any other holiday flicks you find yourself watching year after year?
For the shy (INFJ in my case, if you're into all that Meyers-Briggs stuff), this is a pretty solid definition of hell.
I attended a couple of earlier festivities with The Boyfriend, and the poor bastard was as usual stuck talking to me all night, but he's not at this shindig.
This is an alumni thingie for my college. Those functions tend to hit me where I live because everyone there was valedictorian and is clever and poised. This particular alumni thingie is in Los Angeles, so not only was everyone there valedictorian, but also homecoming queen or king. The ones that weren't now run record labels.
In such situations I can't even take refuge by tucking into the free pinot because I don't want to be That Girl, you know, the one who after midnight turned into Tara Reid and fell into the pool.
So I'm stone-cold sober, socially paralyzed, and wishing I was home watching Christmas movies.
Speaking of! The real reason for this post, some of my seasonal movie faves. In no particular order:
IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE - Darker and funnier than you remember.
HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS - WARNING! VERY IMPORTANT!! I mean the ANIMATED version, with charming Chuck Jones art and plummy voice work by Boris Karloff. Not the Jim Carrey redundancy, for the love of Fah who for-aze.
WHEN HARRY MET SALLY - Not strictly speaking a Christmas movie, but many of the story's key moments happen at the holidays. The season of groveling, revelatory Mallomars.
MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL - I'm serious. Michael Caine gives excellent deadpan as Scrooge in the face of adorableness (Fozziwig!) and catchy songs, but the movie gets scary and sad right when it's supposed to. All that and mini Miss Piggies. Get over yourself and rent it.
THE THIN MAN - Another not-quite-Christmas movie, but who cares when you have William Powell shooting ornaments off the tree with a BB gun while Myrna Loy watches, amused, in a new fur coat? In a movie that glimmers with champagne dialogue, this wordless moment is a standout.
THE GODFATHER - Okay, okay, I'll stop cheating, but the Godfather saga is framed around moments rich with ritual and family significance: weddings, baptisms, the holidays. I love Al Pacino's tense and terrifying vigil at the creepy, Christmas-quiet hospital.
A CHRISTMAS STORY - Some time ago I came across a rant against this movie, which I just don't get. So it's faux nostalgic. Nostalgia is false almost by definition. A CHRISTMAS STORY is funny, sweet, just arch enough, and yes, authentic, capturing the tribulations and joy of being a kid at yuletide. Plus Peter Billingsley now is poker buddies with Vince Vaughn, so there's that.
What about you? Any other holiday flicks you find yourself watching year after year?
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Another County Heard From
TV writers both aspiring and ascended (erm, that came out more Operating Thetan VI than intended) take note: another pro writer has tossed his official SIMPSONS staff baseball cap into the scribosphere ring.
Ken Levine's freshly-minted blog takes on the writerly life, including what exactly it means when you get a coffee mug from your showrunner for Christmas (shorthand for "pack up your desk, we're getting canceled"), internecine squabbles between LA's West and East sides, and divers newsbits and musings.
One choice item: "Mariah Carey nabbed eight Grammy nominations thus continuing her stunning comeback and pushing back her Magic Mountain concert at Spilikin Corners until October."
We can only hope, Ken, we can only hope.
Ken Levine's freshly-minted blog takes on the writerly life, including what exactly it means when you get a coffee mug from your showrunner for Christmas (shorthand for "pack up your desk, we're getting canceled"), internecine squabbles between LA's West and East sides, and divers newsbits and musings.
One choice item: "Mariah Carey nabbed eight Grammy nominations thus continuing her stunning comeback and pushing back her Magic Mountain concert at Spilikin Corners until October."
We can only hope, Ken, we can only hope.
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