Brief heads up for you filmmakers: an article I wrote about 3D Previsualization is in the current issue of Moviemaker magazine. This, for anyone following the saga – is not the article that has given me such grief over the last several months. This is a fun tech-geek article about some awesome software I use called Antics3d.
I'm working on a couple new stories right now. Eventually, I hope they will become scripts. For now, they are outlines, ideas, and hopes. I can't call them scripts yet. One of them is the genre I fear the most – comedy. Though I am a fairly humorous person (sometimes just looking at me is enough to make people laugh), writing comedy is damn tough stuff. I have a story, a premise – even a beginning, middle and end – that would lend itself well to being a nice romantic comedy. So now I need to really figure out how to do it right. There are a ton of theories about what defines comedy. My idea has always been – Drama is the middle of the road. Once you exaggerate any aspect of it, you create a genre. Accentuate the absurd and you have comedy, accentuate the unknown and scary – horror, and so on. I don't know that it is a sophisticated view about story telling, but hopefully it's a start. Any ideas out there? what do you think is comedy? Yeah, a pie in the face or farts are funny – but what else is comedy? Tell me. I can always use a good laugh. And just in case my blog title made you think of this… here you go. Some of the best cinematic moments of all time.
Guaranteed to make you laugh.
I awoke this morning to news that part of Universal studios was on fire so, I grabbed my trusty camera and headed up to Mulholland drive to see what I could see. As I drove up the 101 toward Universal, the smoke was graying the sky, turning what would have been another perfect blue sky day into a smoggy looking gray. Of course, being the valley, that sometimes happens no matter if a studio is burning or not. :) Thanks to the gas prices and the fact that it's Sunday morning, there was almost no traffic, so I was able to get to what I predicted would be the perfect vantage point in about ten minutes. I wasn't the only one who had the idea as about twenty other people with cameras of all sorts were also looking down at the sight. No question, Mulholland Drive provided a very good view. And finally, if stills aren't enough, I shot a little video... What else…? No lie! Are all my problems solved? Not quite. My ticket is worth a cool twelve bucks.
Oh, I played the mega millions lottery on Friday. I just checked my numbers and... I WON!
Cancer claimed Oscar winning director, producer and actor Sydney Pollack Monday at his home in Pacific Palisades. Pollack won his Academy Awards for best director and best picture for "Out of Africa." He was also nominated as a director for "Tootsie" and "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?" and as a producer on last year's "Michael Clayton." He also played a major role in 'Clayton.' His first acting credit on IMDB was a 1959 episode of "Playhouse 90," but it was on the movie "War Hunt" in 1962 that he met Robert Redford and formed a long professional association. "Mr. Pollack's career defined an era in which big stars and the filmmakers who knew how to wrangle them retooled the Hollywood system"...
(From LA Obvserved - Kevin Roderick)
I had a chance to hang out with Sydney Pollack at a film festival in Belgium about ten years ago. We spent an evening in a hotel bar where he excitedly discussed flying airplanes—a passion of his. After detailing a harrowing flight where he ran very low on fuel (fumes, evidently) while trying to land in pure fog, he asked us all to not repeat the story, explaining that it might not be so entertaining to the insurance companies that do "key person" insurance for directors.
He was a good director and, from my rather limited experience, a generous person.
What I really found appealing about him was that he was a multi-faceted person.
And I think in the back of my mind I always expected to see him again and talk about airplanes some more.
Let me preface this by writing that I'm not depressed, merely contemplative. I think rejection is my greatest fear. That's probably very universal so I don't think I'm unique or about to unleash any insights that were never before realized. To the contrary, I am only putting these things out there in order to hopefully excise them from my own psyche, even if only slight. I have probably missed more opportunities because of the fear of being rejected than from actual rejection; from not asking that girl to the ninth grade dance to not pitching that person a project. When I put this fact in writing, it seems pretty sad—but I bet I'm not the only person by a long stretch. Of course, actual rejection isn't so hot either. And when you create something and hand it off in a mercantile exchange, art and commerce can be tricky and cruel bedfellows. About rejection in writing, I read an excellent blog, which sums things up pretty well. I am in an unknown point right now in many aspects of my life. I suppose we really all are, though we might fool ourselves with plans. Fact is you never really know what's going to happen next, do you? In my life currently, I face potential rejection from all sides; I certainly don't know what's going to happen next about a whole lot. The "article" (I put that in quotes now because it has become an entity unto itself) has not pleased the powers that be. I don't know if it means that it has been killed or not. I hope not. It represents a lot of work and more importantly, I believe it is good; insightful, interesting people putting forth their ideas on the topic. However, the decision is not mine. At this point, I'm simply wondering aloud. I've already been quite demoralized by the email flurry over the last several days and am fully prepared for a final thumbs down. It would be a nice bit of icing on top of everything else in my life, but that is what it is. Que sera sera, and all. Now, onto other things/. I have a list of projects I must get through and time is only moving forward. You're older than you've ever been. One last story for the entry: A couple days ago as I was stuffing yard trimmings in the trash, I heard the sounds of "Dammi i colori!" start playing from a neighbor's yard. Probably my favorite aria in the world (Act 1 Tosca), my heart lurched, my eyes filled with tears and I stopped in mid yard-trimming-stuffing. I was filled with the emotion of the aria -- it set off everything from the last several months. But more than anything, I was absolutely thrilled that someone in my neighborhood was listening to opera. The music went on to another aria; a greatest hits type collection. I was absolutely ecstatic. The world is good, there is hope! Evidently a timer had kicked on and was playing the CD for no one - but me.
And that reminds me of lyrics from a They Might Be Giants song: Genius in their simplicity, I am envious not to have their wit. Even without the clock-like melody or the Iron Hammer 'DUN DUN' of the guitar -- "TIME (DUN DUN) is marching on (DUN DUN) --- I think the brilliance shines through of Older.
And now you're even older.
And now you're even older.
And now you're even older.
You're older than you've ever been.
And now you're even older.
And now you're older still.
TIME! Is marching on.
And time.. is still marching on.
This day will soon be at an end and now it's even sooner.
And now it's even sooner.
And now it's even sooner.
This day will soon be at an end and now it's even sooner.
And now it's even sooner.
And now it's sooner still.
You're older than you've ever been.
And now you're even older.
And now you're even older.
And now you're even older.
You're older than you've ever been.
And now you're even older.
And now you're older still.
Finally, under the guise of perhaps borrowing their trash can as mine was full, I had to go to the neighbor – to tell them how wonderful it was to hear my favorite aria, to share in the beauty of it.
I went to the house, the music growing louder as I approached -- and finally stood at the front porch. The house was locked tight, no one was home. But on the patio, baking in the sun, a large portable CD/Tuner player was blasting the music.
My brother asked me some advice regarding movie trailers. He has something in mind for a project and wants to mimic a trailer. It got me to thinking that it might make for a fun blog entry. For the slim possibility that there is actually a person that doesn't know what a trailer is… it's the "coming attraction" previews of a movie. I have a friend that complains about them—saying that they give away everything in a movie. He refuses to watch them. I, on the other hand, love to watch movie trailers. They make me giggle with excitement, make me feel like a little kid, or groan with despair, frequently saving me the thirteen bucks or whatever it costs to go see a movie nowadays. That's because, my friend is right; most trailers do give away pretty much everything in the movie. They can save me a lot of agony. And, as everyone knows, most are actually better than the movie. The movie trailer has come a long way, and has really ramped up as an art form in the last fifteen to twenty years. Once upon a time, they were a hodge podge of the best moments of a film. Many were cut from an actual print, so the sound would cut miserably and jarringly. There was little attempt to put something together that was smooth, that flowed – or even captured the spirit of the movie. It's amazing to watch old trailers and see how bad they actually were. I won't even bother going any further back in time than the early 80's to illustrate the point. With a new Indiana Jones movie about to be let loose, the Indiana Jones website is an excellent trip down memory lane as well as a fascinating study in the evolution of trailers. What's really amazing is to see how bad the first Raiders of the Lost Ark trailer is. I remember it too—seeing it on television. The theatrical trailer for Raiders is a bit better. A bit. What is interesting about it, is that it still has a 1970's sensibility; it leads you to believe that Raiders might be a serious, dark movie—perhaps a thriller. There is actually very little hinting at how much fun it will be. The trailer for the theatrical re-release a couple years later specifically reminds the audience "THIS IS A FUN MOVIE!!!" However, these trailers are all very primitive by modern standards. Oddly, the new Indiana Jones trailer is NOT to be viewed as an example of a good trailer. It's quite poor. I don't know why but I'm hoping it's because Steve and George aren't too concerned. They know the movie will be a monster hit even if they just showed a still of the title for two minutes and thirty seconds. So, for filmmakers, this might be of use and for the general public, it might be of interest. Here is what the modern movie trailer has evolved to: Generally they are about two and a half minutes long and consist of five acts. They may or may not have voice over, and they may or may not have flashy title cards helping to move the plot along. The best trailers don't need a voiceover or title cards. These are crutches, but are such standard practice, that no one really criticizes them much. Watch almost any trailer these days and you'll see how the five act breakdown works. This is not to be confused with the five act structure commonly used by Shakespeare. It is a structure unto itself; basically a classic three act structure with a tease-in and a tease-out. Boom. Done. Now go see the movie. When I started cutting trailers for my own movies, I studied countless trailers. While cutting the Ghosts of Edendale trailer I was most impressed by the trailer for The Others. I think it's a masterpiece as trailers go. Damn fine movie too. Watch both and you'll see they're five acts. For trailers of this coming summer, here are a comedy, Tropic Thunder, and an action movie, Dark Knight. Both perfectly made, both two and a half minutes, both five acts. So, there you have it. Check it out. See if you can spot the five acts in a movie trailer. Enjoy.A teaser lead in.1st act of the story. This is where, if there's a voice (usually Don LaFontaine) it will say, "In a world" or… "When John Doe thought he knew…"A brief lead out.
I got word from the editor last Friday about the article. Our phone call started with a little chit chat, which is generally a "not all is completely bad" sign. She then got into her comments about the article and said, "It had a lot of good stuff, but…" Long and the short is that I've had to do more work on it. They say that writing is re-writing. They are right but, ugh, this is tough. Whether it's with screenplays or magazine articles, pulling one paragraph or shifting a thought tends to make the whole thing crumble like a house of cards. It's so easy to make, what seem to be, minor critiques... but often damn hard to put them into practice. Additionally, she wanted me to interview a couple more people; interviews I wasn't able Several blogs ago, I wrote about the dangers of seeing symbolism in the world. It is one thing for the "dead crows lying on the ground" to mean something in a book or movie, in real life they're just birds that met their maker. Today, I had a moment which I must share; a perfect example of seeing symbolism in life. At the request of the one person who has the power to have such requests be honored, I am not going to blog about certain aspects of my personal life in too much detail. Three months ago, to the day, as regular readers will know, a very dark and distressing time began for me. In an attempt to preserve my sanity, I began exercising feverishly. Part of my regimen has involved walking/jogging around Silver Lake. For those that don't live in Los Angeles, Silver "Lake" is actually a man-made reservoir in the center of Los Angeles and what gave the neighborhood its name. For the last months, they've been draining it. The first time in twenty years, it was because of a high level of Bromides. What was a typically lovely landmark, day by day, became an increasingly large, surreal, white clay pit. As the water level continued to drop, the symbolism of it always struck me; a perfect metaphor to my emotional state. A couple months ago, the once beautiful reservoir was finally empty; for how long, I knew not... Anyway... Today as I went for my walk/jog what do I see? Silver Lake is being refilled! As I stared at the water cascading out of the large pipes in one of the towers, I couldn't contain what I'm sure must have been one goofy smile. Because the very good news is, if things go the way I believe and hope(!) they are… Silver Lake is still be mirroring my life. And if it's not, you can be sure I'm using this symbolism in a screenplay, where it damn well will mean what I want it to mean.
to get until today (they are very busy people), so now I'm sitting in front of the computer at 10:00 PM, a fresh pot of coffee. Déjà vu.
Suffice to say, the following observation accurately mirrored/s my feelings over the last months.
Silver Lake - Empty March 22, 2008
View on May 13, 2008
Already a large area of the reservoir floor was under water. It's going to take about three or four weeks before Silver Lake is once again full of water; back to its happy state.
'The article' has been sent! Fingers crossed, the editor won't tear it to shreds and email the shreds back for changes, or worse, pay me a 15% kill fee. That would be humiliating. Typically, I would celebrate the completion of something like this -- but no time, I've had to jump right into another writing thing with a deadline of -- tomorrow. Eesh! A couple weeks ago I went to the Getty Villa. Going there had been one of about a million things I've been wanting and planning to do, since moving to Los Angeles seven years ago. Needing nothing more than a free ticket, ordered a couple weeks in advance, it is a really wonderful place; easy to get to and once you leave the parking garage, it's as if you've gone to Italy. So, if you live in Los Angeles and have the urge to do something that is: A. Inexpensive (8 bucks for parking) I highly recommend it. Lately, the aerobic part of my workout routine has been made bearable by listening to a lot of Perez Prado. My in-place jogging and jumping jacks tend to devolve into goofy interpretations of Mambo dancing (all the window shades are very tightly during these moments). Even as I laugh at myself (hey, at least it gets the heart rate going), I've also been recalling another thing that has been on that 'list-o-things to do' since moving to L.A. So, a couple nights ago, I found myself googling around… and I think (if I can get up the nerve), I will soon go for it: Finally learning how to dance – properly. I will report fully on how this progresses. Don't expect to see an update instantly. I do need to earn more money first. Dance lessons aren't cheap. In the meantime, if you haven't seen the original JAPANESE version of Shall We Dance, go to Netflix or wherever you get your videos and order it NOW!. Not the American remake, the original Japanese version. Trust me, you won't be disappointed. And finally, here's a Perez Prado clip to put a smile on your face.
Maybe after it is sent off, I'll see if I can't bug a friend to join me in a little self-congratulatory something or other.
Why I'm procrastinating now with a blog entry is beyond me.
However, just so you don't think that all I do is write...
Walking around this "villa", (actually a nice sized museum) I couldn't help but think… Oh, to have been a robber-baron.
B. Out of the ordinary.
C. Culturally stimulating.
D. As if going on a European vacation.
At the Getty Villa. Not trying to look cool... I was being blinded by the sun.
Afterwards, drive up the PCH a bit and have a drink and burger at Dukes (in the barefoot bar), or go a little further to Malibu Seafood and have the best fish tacos around. I promise you won't be disappointed.
Considering how long I've loved Rockabilly music, it's pathetic I've never learned to Swing dance properly. Yes, I know that's so- retro-ten years-ago. More than swing dancing though, and maybe this is my ancestral blood (I'm half Cuban), I'm thinking Mambo, Salsa, Tango (yeah, right)…
It's a hybrid of Swing and Mambo. Maybe that will be the next retro-rage. If so, sign me up.
Check out the cutaways to the disapproving old folks.
I'm at the end of a fifteen hour marathon of writing and have nearly finished a draft of "the article". It's close enough that I've sent it to a friend to read. I need a sympathetic soul to give me notes before I send it to the editor. I know parts of it are still a mess but I'm hoping my friend doesn't think it's too far off the mark. Tomorrow, I intend to (must) finish it and then, with a quick nod to the 'approval gods', send it to the editor—who is one tough cookie...but very good. I had been concerned about hitting the word mark for which I was contracted, but I'm about a thousand over-and still adding. Funny how that happens… So why the heck am I writing a blog entry after a marathon day of "jobber writing?" Because this afternoon at 1:21 (I know this because I noted it), I had 'one of those moments' and I felt I just had to share. We're lucky if we realize these moments as they're happening, rather than long afterwards. In fact, I think it's incredibly rare to realize them in real time. It was a moment of complete and utter happiness. Sounds corny, I know, but think about it: How often do you feel completely and utterly happy in an ordinary day, doing an ordinary thing? Obviously, you realize you're happy when you have a FULLY OVERLOADED MOMENT OF ULTRA HAPPINESS!!!; seeing a loved one you haven't seen in a long time, a holiday or a vacation to a strange and wondrous land. What I'm talking about is absolute happiness while doing a very average thing on a very average day. If you do experience this frequently, you are very lucky. So…my moment of complete and utter happiness that happened at 1:21pm: As I was walking back to my desk with a fresh cup of coffee, to sit down in front of my computer and continue writing, it struck me fully that… It was a beautiful day, the coffee smelled incredible and I was about to sit down in front of my computer to continue writing! There you have it—an average moment in an average day of my life. I wasn't being paid a million dollars to scribe a blockbuster. I wasn't having an incredibly inspired jag of writing, nothing out of the ordinary. But I had a moment of absolute 'thrill'. For that instant, I felt… "YES!" Silly? Well, okay. Keep in mind that I write constantly. It can be drudgery and it can feel incredibly unfulfilling. That's why I reveled in that moment; savored it and now, share it. I think happiness is kind of like being healthy. You don't really think about it until something hurts or you don't feel well. It was nice that it occurred to me that I felt good, that I was happy. I suppose life is a series of these moments interspersed with all sorts of other moments. You hop and skip from one to the next, hopefully not getting stuck on a bad one for too long. I think a lot of us (at least I speak for myself) are so busy hopping that we don't have a chance to experience the minor moments in real time. There you have it. Perhaps I'm just loopy from having been in front of this computer all day, every day for the last month on this one story. But I did have that moment.
For myself, I've generally thought back on times… days, weeks, even entire years, and realized, "those were good. I was happy." Or—"those times were miserable."
I have concluded all but one interview and continue to try to tame this beast, now due in a mere two days. It's far from beaten and I have to now fight through "the wall" that any marathon runner can describe; no time for relaxing or "calling it a day." It doesn't matter what the gentle breeze pushing the front window curtains or the deepening shade of sky are telling me. The cat is fed and contentedly splayed out on one of the dining room chairs, while the sounds of the neighbors happily playing dominos and chatting in Spanish wafts in from a side window. For me though, the work must continue. This is but a small break. In interviewing all the wonderful (with the exception of one) people for this article, it's been refreshing and dare I say, renewing, to keep happening upon one similarity. Passion. Tremendous passion for what they do. Therein is the secret of this business. Though some are paid very well, these writers and directors aren't doing it for the money. They're doing it for the love, the passion. While each person has spoken of the difficulties of surviving in the entertainment business (some having the benefit of speaking with hindsight), they all talked foremost about the love and passion they have for what they do. Without fail, they would make movies, no matter what. Every one of the success stories I heard was prefaced by years of sleeping on floors and doing whatever it took to survive—while writing, writing, writing. The "breakout", the successful moment, invariably was due to making their own fortune; to writing or taking a job when there seemed to be no reason to, or scant reason at best. As was well said by one person, every opportunity is a good opportunity. This (and some talent and some luck) is what has differentiated these people from the countless numbers strewn on the road to "success". They did it for the love, not the money. They did it because they HAD to. It's a good reminder for people starting out. Do it because you're absolutely passionate about it. If you're not passionate, if you're skeptical in any way, don't try to do it professionally. Make it a hobby. And in this day and age of digital filmmaking, that's entirely possible. The happiest times I've had as a "filmmaker" were when I was thirteen years old, running around my backyard with my brother and friends, making movies on a bulky camcorder and portable VCR. Though I drove my brother and my friends crazy, the excitement of doing it was like nothing I'd ever experienced. Over the years, it has sometimes been easy to forget the purity of that thrill. Money, organization, cynicism; the "business" of show, can do that. There are people in this business that, like vampires sucking the blood from the throats of babies, will take your passion if you're not blindly driven. In talking to the writers and directors of the past couple weeks, I've been reminded again of that child's passion. Not that I ever lost it, but being surrounded by like-driven people was a good recharge; a good reminder that the glass is half full. Hell—there's a glass of water actually there and I get to hold it! Every time I tap the "FADE IN:" shortcut keys when I begin a new screenplay, I get a thrill. I visualize that fade in on a big screen in a dark theater. I imagine settling into the seat, the smell of buttered popcorn in the air.
I remember the first time I was able to 'fade up" in a movie I made back in those childhood days. It was an establishing shot of an airplane that had crash landed on a desert island. In reality it was a small plastic model in the dirt and a passing ant gave away any semblance of realism. Still, it was the fade up—the ability to use that cinematic language—that made me tremble with delight; a delight that I've never lost but in these past weeks was reminded of once again.
