...and right now, that's all we know for certain.
www.whoissambailey.com
http://www.churchofsam.org/
My readers here on the 8 Sided Blog have been a huge source of support as I've developed myself and my movies...
So I freely admit that these sites are fictional and viral. If you want to discuss the real poop with the cast and crew of our funny, strange little supernatural mystery as we pull this movie together, please visit us at www.8sidedforum.com/group/sambailey.
In the meantime, please check us out at "Who is Sam Bailey?" and "Church of Sam". Feel free to be enthusiastic, curious, cynical, saucy, or even beligerent, but please "say yes to the improv." In other words, feel free to call us crazy - but please don't call us guerrilla filmmakers! My readers can know that Sam Bailey is the next film destined to rattle the world of independent cinema, but the world at large is not yet ready.
If you'd like to explore the ways we plan to reward our most spirited and most believable contributors, head over to www.8sidedforum.com/group/sambailey and check out the featured posts.
One of the core values of our 8 Sided troupe of actors and filmmakers is the reestablishment of our connection to the audience. Growing up in theater, it's something I've always taken for granted. Now that our careers in film is moving forward, this is clearly one of the key places to carry that relationship into the media.
Thanks for being a part of this community. If you'd like to play around in my sandbox, it's wide open.
Thank you, one and all.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Waiting for the Economic Rebound?
Reading the news this morning, I'm struck by the number of articles about how people are taking paycuts for new jobs... who expect their salaries to go back up when our economy recovers.
Seems to me that the American standard of living, prior to our economic downturn, was unsustainable. Paying people decent salaries for various degrees of senseless, redundant, nonsense is what got us where we are. While companies are still reliant on those kinds of services to an extent, staying competitive means restructuring.
What does that mean for the middle-managers? What happens to the average American?
Simply put, we need to find something to contribute. Each of us needs to find something our culture actually needs, and then we need to assess it's value independently of what we might have been paid for providing it five years ago. If we decide the value isn't high enough, we need to find a way to make it better.
Then, it's up to each of us to take personal command of getting that value out there into the world, and for collecting the money we deserve. Sometimes that will mean finding the one company that needs that value the most, but more often it means letting various people compete for our individual goods and services.
Today, when one company or one person can find out what literally any other person or organization worldwide is up to, that holds especially true.
This is how economic competition has always worked, and it is absolutely the responsibility of the individual.
In my opinion, looking forward to the return of corporate security is both futile and counter-productive. Don't wait for the economy to rebound. Find a new, more rewarding way to engage your skills. Take some risk.
Looking for a business model? Look at the tech guy who invents something in his parents garage. Look at the rapper who practices every day in the Times Square subway station, and finally records an EP. Look at the guys who built Facebook, or Google, or Apple, or Miramax, or Dreamworks, or Pixar, or Marvel, or any number of other less sexy, but equally risky endeavors... Look at how Obama won the presidential election.
Because that's the new America.
Seems to me that the American standard of living, prior to our economic downturn, was unsustainable. Paying people decent salaries for various degrees of senseless, redundant, nonsense is what got us where we are. While companies are still reliant on those kinds of services to an extent, staying competitive means restructuring.
Even on a good day, most people would agree that their jobs are unnecessary. People are paid because they put in the time, and not because they contribute.
What does that mean for the middle-managers? What happens to the average American?
Simply put, we need to find something to contribute. Each of us needs to find something our culture actually needs, and then we need to assess it's value independently of what we might have been paid for providing it five years ago. If we decide the value isn't high enough, we need to find a way to make it better.
Then, it's up to each of us to take personal command of getting that value out there into the world, and for collecting the money we deserve. Sometimes that will mean finding the one company that needs that value the most, but more often it means letting various people compete for our individual goods and services.
Today, when one company or one person can find out what literally any other person or organization worldwide is up to, that holds especially true.
This is how economic competition has always worked, and it is absolutely the responsibility of the individual.
In my opinion, looking forward to the return of corporate security is both futile and counter-productive. Don't wait for the economy to rebound. Find a new, more rewarding way to engage your skills. Take some risk.
Looking for a business model? Look at the tech guy who invents something in his parents garage. Look at the rapper who practices every day in the Times Square subway station, and finally records an EP. Look at the guys who built Facebook, or Google, or Apple, or Miramax, or Dreamworks, or Pixar, or Marvel, or any number of other less sexy, but equally risky endeavors... Look at how Obama won the presidential election.
Because that's the new America.
SkyChasers Update
While I did get some writing done on the Stormcrow this weekend, I also gave myself an opportunity to dig back into SkyChasers and play around with the concepts I've introduced in that game. In the process, I finished one chapter... and the better part of another!
My Sifu has been telling me that play is more productive than work, and I'm starting to believe it!
Will I finish SkyChasers by the end of this year? I just might!
My Sifu has been telling me that play is more productive than work, and I'm starting to believe it!
Will I finish SkyChasers by the end of this year? I just might!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
On Priorities
For several years, I labored under the impression that a man's priorities were the things with which he expected to distinguish himself. Put another way, I thought a man was someone who poured himself against his obstacles, until either the obstacles were gone or there was nothing left of the man.
To me, that meant that every waking moment of my life needed to be spent furthering the career I wanted to lead. For years, I've taken opportunities to further my various projects at the expense of my happiness, my health, and a balanced life. I spent years sacrificing my well-being to my work in the hope that it would make me more successful, and earn me the life I want to live.
In turn, those projects haven't gone as far as I would like.
Now, as I begin to use those projects as contribute to my own well-being, things are starting to move. My income is growing, my work is moving forward with greater ease, and I'm living a happier life to boot.
What I've learned is that a man's priorities should reflect a larger role in the world than simply a profession. For me, that role is as a storyteller, a pioneer, and at least esoterically, as a father to those I love. My creative work clearly helps me satisfy my purpose, but it doesn't complete it. By challenging myself with better relationships, better lifestyle choices, and better living, I become more fit to embody the things that are important to me. Is it any wonder that my work is improving?
When I saw people taking care of themselves, I used to judge them harshly for de-prioritizing their careers to allow for less important things. I called it weak. Today, I'm seeing that it's more a matter of treating the other aspects of my life as respectfully and generously as I treat my work. That way, my life can support itself.
I'm blogging about this here because when people ask me how it was I broke into film, this may well be the lesson that comes to mind first. Seems a simple lesson, but it's also been one of the hardest for me to learn.
Now, I'm finally getting it.
To me, that meant that every waking moment of my life needed to be spent furthering the career I wanted to lead. For years, I've taken opportunities to further my various projects at the expense of my happiness, my health, and a balanced life. I spent years sacrificing my well-being to my work in the hope that it would make me more successful, and earn me the life I want to live.
In turn, those projects haven't gone as far as I would like.
Now, as I begin to use those projects as contribute to my own well-being, things are starting to move. My income is growing, my work is moving forward with greater ease, and I'm living a happier life to boot.
What I've learned is that a man's priorities should reflect a larger role in the world than simply a profession. For me, that role is as a storyteller, a pioneer, and at least esoterically, as a father to those I love. My creative work clearly helps me satisfy my purpose, but it doesn't complete it. By challenging myself with better relationships, better lifestyle choices, and better living, I become more fit to embody the things that are important to me. Is it any wonder that my work is improving?
When I saw people taking care of themselves, I used to judge them harshly for de-prioritizing their careers to allow for less important things. I called it weak. Today, I'm seeing that it's more a matter of treating the other aspects of my life as respectfully and generously as I treat my work. That way, my life can support itself.
I'm blogging about this here because when people ask me how it was I broke into film, this may well be the lesson that comes to mind first. Seems a simple lesson, but it's also been one of the hardest for me to learn.
Now, I'm finally getting it.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Business of Television
Right now I'm in the proess of watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer for the first time. When the show was being aired, I thought I was too cool for it. All the good word of mouth caught up with me and now I'm hooked!
For a few years, the talk has been that television is behaving more like film in the ancillary markets. According to the conventional thinking, it's because of DVD and the internet. That said, children's television has known this for eons. Can you imagine a saturday morning cartoon without the action figures? It's easy to inspire brand loyalty in your fanbase when you meet up with them once a week, or more.
From where I'm standing, it seems like many serial shows are successful just with the advertisements and syndication - shows like Lost and Heroes. Clealry, the cable networks get how this works, and they keep making money on product like Battlestar Galactica, The Sopranos, and others...
Does the internet really have that much to do with the television business model, aside from just being another revenue stream? Is advertisement really even at the core of the business model for a serial shows today?
Thursday, August 20, 2009
A Moment of Triumph
Today, I secured my first regular, paid client as a web marketing consultant. Over the next two years or so, I'll be supplementing my film finance income with work on a major independent production, helping to collateralize and utilize the stories and insights that grow out of the development and production process, as well as make the best use possible of the artwork that comes from the filmmakers.
On the one hand, this is exciting because it helps me continue to develop my toolbox as an independent producer in the age of social media. Having a whole new set of resources to work with, content and production-wise, will mean important breakthroughs for my own projects as I master the new challenges I'm presented with.
On the other hand, I'm going to be making much more effective use of my time. Financially and creatively, this is a breakthrough for me - and it's not going to demand much more time than I'm already investing in my income to begin with.
In more than one way, this is a very gratifying step forward for me. Because of the relationships I'm developing, because of the extra income, and because of the tools I'll be mastering, this helps bring my own projects to realization.
On the one hand, this is exciting because it helps me continue to develop my toolbox as an independent producer in the age of social media. Having a whole new set of resources to work with, content and production-wise, will mean important breakthroughs for my own projects as I master the new challenges I'm presented with.
On the other hand, I'm going to be making much more effective use of my time. Financially and creatively, this is a breakthrough for me - and it's not going to demand much more time than I'm already investing in my income to begin with.
In more than one way, this is a very gratifying step forward for me. Because of the relationships I'm developing, because of the extra income, and because of the tools I'll be mastering, this helps bring my own projects to realization.
What's more, my workday is going to get a lot more interesting and engaging and fun. In general, I'm breathing a lot easier. For that reason alone, this moment seems like an important one to document on the 8 Sided Blog. Nobody "makes it" all at once!
Casting my Life
Today I came across a forum post on the IMDb, asking me to suggest a cast for the movie of my life. With some liberated writing choices, my story offers up the basis for a pretty good comedy!
Me - James Franco
My Love Interest - Christina Ricci
My Best Friend - Topher Grace
My Dad - Jeff Bridges
My Mom - Helena Bonham Carter
My Enemy - The Cast of Monty Python
Me - James Franco
My Love Interest - Christina Ricci
My Best Friend - Topher Grace
My Dad - Jeff Bridges
My Mom - Helena Bonham Carter
My Enemy - The Cast of Monty Python
What makes good horror?
First, let's note the difference between dread and surprise.
Surprise is easy to inspire. All you have to do is expose the audience to something sudden. Mixing sudden motion with loud sound is the best way to go.
Surprise builds with anticipation, so filmmakers lead up to it by letting the character in question suspect that something is coming, or alternatively, grow obviously unsuspicious. We call these "jump scares", because those are the moments when the audience jumps out of their seat.
Part of the reason jump scares are the easy, effective way to approach horror is that they are a cliche that works every time. Watch Drag Me to Hell - nobody working today does jump scares like Sam Raimi. That film uses the oldest tricks in the book - it's an old saw, if ever there was one. At the same time, it's a great little movie. Terrifically fun and overwhelmingly effective.
Dread, on the other hand, comes from a conflict that can't be resolved. Dread is about the promise of shadow wherever there is light. Make that promise to your audience, and you begin to tap those feelings.
Be careful and circumspect in how much definition you give those shadows. Not knowing is the scariest thing, right? Don't show your hand.
In the Exorcist, the demon can be thwarted but it can never be slain. In The Shining, Jack Nicholson is killed... but his reasons for going mad are never really addressed. His madness wasn't even his fault. What became of the darkness in the hotel? It persists.
How much do we know about the evil in those films? Just enough. We know there's more where that came from, but the evil is largely undefined. What the evil does - that's what we're really seeing.
If you want to juxtapose the mundane with the aberrant, do it slowly and gently. Don't break the grocery store reality with a zombie bursting from the fridge. Don't break it with a jump scare. Break it with a trickle of blood dripping from someplace abnormal, or with a strange little red-eyed insect nobody has seen before...
...or, for example, with a dense unnatural fog that rolls in from the lake.
Why? Because fear works on the unknown. We're not afraid of the trickle of blood, or of the mist. We fear the things it might mean, might conceal, might lead to...
If you really want to show the monster, feel free. Do it suddenly, and people will be surprised. Just don't expect anyone to feel anything more than that.
Surprise is easy to inspire. All you have to do is expose the audience to something sudden. Mixing sudden motion with loud sound is the best way to go.
Surprise builds with anticipation, so filmmakers lead up to it by letting the character in question suspect that something is coming, or alternatively, grow obviously unsuspicious. We call these "jump scares", because those are the moments when the audience jumps out of their seat.
Part of the reason jump scares are the easy, effective way to approach horror is that they are a cliche that works every time. Watch Drag Me to Hell - nobody working today does jump scares like Sam Raimi. That film uses the oldest tricks in the book - it's an old saw, if ever there was one. At the same time, it's a great little movie. Terrifically fun and overwhelmingly effective.
Dread, on the other hand, comes from a conflict that can't be resolved. Dread is about the promise of shadow wherever there is light. Make that promise to your audience, and you begin to tap those feelings.
Be careful and circumspect in how much definition you give those shadows. Not knowing is the scariest thing, right? Don't show your hand.
In the Exorcist, the demon can be thwarted but it can never be slain. In The Shining, Jack Nicholson is killed... but his reasons for going mad are never really addressed. His madness wasn't even his fault. What became of the darkness in the hotel? It persists.
How much do we know about the evil in those films? Just enough. We know there's more where that came from, but the evil is largely undefined. What the evil does - that's what we're really seeing.
If you want to juxtapose the mundane with the aberrant, do it slowly and gently. Don't break the grocery store reality with a zombie bursting from the fridge. Don't break it with a jump scare. Break it with a trickle of blood dripping from someplace abnormal, or with a strange little red-eyed insect nobody has seen before...
...or, for example, with a dense unnatural fog that rolls in from the lake.
Why? Because fear works on the unknown. We're not afraid of the trickle of blood, or of the mist. We fear the things it might mean, might conceal, might lead to...
If you really want to show the monster, feel free. Do it suddenly, and people will be surprised. Just don't expect anyone to feel anything more than that.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Dark Forecast
Today, I started into my new draft of the Stormcrow. Things are going to get stirred up and seriously reorganized, and I'm getting more and more excited.
Time to make evil fun again. Look out, Indiana Jones!
Time to make evil fun again. Look out, Indiana Jones!
Monday, August 17, 2009
One Thought on Heroism
Heroes aren't born with a gleam in their eye. That's a myth we tell to excuse ourselves from doing great things.
True Heroism and District 9
SPOILERS!!! I'VE POSTED A SPOILER-FREE REVIEW BELOW... IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE FILM, SKIP DOWN TO THE NEXT BLOG ENTRY.
Ok... So, to those of you have seen District 9, I want to share my thoughts about how it relates to real-world heroism. To me, that's the most inspiring element of this film - even more important than the satire and commentary, when you get right down to it.
District 9 is the first film about how a real person, powerless in their circumstances, becomes a hero. This is a film about how someone who has made terrible mistakes can do something very, very right - and how History doesn't really care about whether or not it redeems them.
Clearly, Wikus did dispicable, horrendous things. Killing children is pretty much at the top of the war crimes list, am I right?
What I liked was that they let you see that he did them out of a sense of victimhood and disempowerment, borne of ignorance. It wasn't evil. It was human.
That's exactly how fascism looks from the inside out.
Did he redeem himself by buying the prawns a fighting chance?
In the end, that's a question Wikus has to answer for himself, and I think he does - he allows himself to love his wife, but not to live with her. He allows himself hope, but not ultimate redemption. Not yet. Maybe not for a lifetime.
At the same time, his attempts to forgive himself are lost in the broader context of history as it unfolds, which is where the documentary format becomes important.
Will the prawns see him as a hero? Maybe not. Who cares.
What matters is that Christopher got on the ship with his fuel, and that he's on his way to get help for the refugees. In the end, the prawns will accept the deaths in District 9, as well as those to come, in exchange for the help that's coming. At the same time, those deaths will leave wounds.
What happens when help arrives in three years? Clearly, the vessel over Joburg was not a warship. It's a safe bet that the weapons we've seen are not the only ones in the prawn arsenal. What does a prawn rescue mission look like?
Will District 10 show us the prawn "peacekeeping" forces, seen from the receiving end? Will Wikus become an advocate for human rights, in protest against the prawns? Is he even cut out for that monumental task? After all, he's just a horribly flawed man with some awful skeletons in the closet.
Isn't that history? Isn't that life?
As far as human connection, I WANT Wikus to allow himself forgiveness. I want him to own his choices, and to grow out of the cesspool he was in once and for all. At the end of the movie, I think that's what I got - barely!
Would he get a hero's welcome in District 10? No. Life just isn't that simple.
At the same time, he has the hope that someday, somehow, he can go home.
It hasn't occurred to him yet that home is totally unlivable. That there is no going home. He's got to create a new world to live in, or else live outside the old one.
In the real world, this is how heroes are borne. That's the story of Caesar, of Genghis Khan, of Abraham Lincoln, of the Founding Fathers of the US of A... of Nelson Mandela and Archbishop Desmond Tutu. This is how great men are forged.
In the end, where they come from is just the thing that equips them for their role in History. Being a lawyer didn't stop Nelson Mandela from doing some awful things himself, or give him some kind of innate nobility that guided him through the dark times... What it did was teach him the law, which proved to be his greatest tool for change. Having that tool kept him from using other tools, like violence and sedition, more heavily than he did.
Great things may come of Wikus, or this may be the end of his story. Either way, his story is too real not to inspire feelings in me.
Ok... So, to those of you have seen District 9, I want to share my thoughts about how it relates to real-world heroism. To me, that's the most inspiring element of this film - even more important than the satire and commentary, when you get right down to it.
District 9 is the first film about how a real person, powerless in their circumstances, becomes a hero. This is a film about how someone who has made terrible mistakes can do something very, very right - and how History doesn't really care about whether or not it redeems them.
Clearly, Wikus did dispicable, horrendous things. Killing children is pretty much at the top of the war crimes list, am I right?
What I liked was that they let you see that he did them out of a sense of victimhood and disempowerment, borne of ignorance. It wasn't evil. It was human.
That's exactly how fascism looks from the inside out.
Did he redeem himself by buying the prawns a fighting chance?
In the end, that's a question Wikus has to answer for himself, and I think he does - he allows himself to love his wife, but not to live with her. He allows himself hope, but not ultimate redemption. Not yet. Maybe not for a lifetime.
At the same time, his attempts to forgive himself are lost in the broader context of history as it unfolds, which is where the documentary format becomes important.
Will the prawns see him as a hero? Maybe not. Who cares.
What matters is that Christopher got on the ship with his fuel, and that he's on his way to get help for the refugees. In the end, the prawns will accept the deaths in District 9, as well as those to come, in exchange for the help that's coming. At the same time, those deaths will leave wounds.
What happens when help arrives in three years? Clearly, the vessel over Joburg was not a warship. It's a safe bet that the weapons we've seen are not the only ones in the prawn arsenal. What does a prawn rescue mission look like?
Will District 10 show us the prawn "peacekeeping" forces, seen from the receiving end? Will Wikus become an advocate for human rights, in protest against the prawns? Is he even cut out for that monumental task? After all, he's just a horribly flawed man with some awful skeletons in the closet.
Isn't that history? Isn't that life?
As far as human connection, I WANT Wikus to allow himself forgiveness. I want him to own his choices, and to grow out of the cesspool he was in once and for all. At the end of the movie, I think that's what I got - barely!
Would he get a hero's welcome in District 10? No. Life just isn't that simple.
At the same time, he has the hope that someday, somehow, he can go home.
It hasn't occurred to him yet that home is totally unlivable. That there is no going home. He's got to create a new world to live in, or else live outside the old one.
In the real world, this is how heroes are borne. That's the story of Caesar, of Genghis Khan, of Abraham Lincoln, of the Founding Fathers of the US of A... of Nelson Mandela and Archbishop Desmond Tutu. This is how great men are forged.
In the end, where they come from is just the thing that equips them for their role in History. Being a lawyer didn't stop Nelson Mandela from doing some awful things himself, or give him some kind of innate nobility that guided him through the dark times... What it did was teach him the law, which proved to be his greatest tool for change. Having that tool kept him from using other tools, like violence and sedition, more heavily than he did.
Great things may come of Wikus, or this may be the end of his story. Either way, his story is too real not to inspire feelings in me.
District 9
For the first time in many, many years, a film has engaged my feelings and my imagination with a world that inspires and challenges me to reconsider everything I love about science-fiction and genre storytelling. Like everything else that's turned my life upside down over the last decade, this film comes from South Africa.
At it's core, District 9 is the story of a man who's been sucked into the engine of fascism. His ignorance and comfort fuels a system that permits an elite group of people to build a long, fruitful future at the expense of an oppressed class - in this case a ship full of alien refugees. Like any oppressor, these MNU guys figure they have the "prawns" under their thumb.
Like any oppressed class, the prawns are by no means helpless. Weak and desperate, they certainly fear the MNU... but while some of them are cowering and appeasing the humans, others are making plans. As in most uprisings, these plans are about securing a future for the children.
Nobody's really communicating. Nobody understands the motives of the enemy. This is the story of our times.
In the end, it takes an unexpected, violent breach in this wall of assumptions to let the standoff between the prawns and the MNU find release and outcome. Our man in the system, through means I dare not reveal, is pulled into that breach and becomes the flashpoint, the catalyst, that turns the system on its head and brings hope for a peaceful outcome.
Because as it is, things are primed to get very, very bad for everyone.
Like all of us, Neill Blomkamp clearly grew up on Richard Donner and Paul Verhoeven movies. Like all of us, he clearly loved the cinematic realism and the performance aesthetics of the 70's movies that predated them. District 9 is rife with the awesome. In many ways, Neill Blomkamp has addressed the same issues that Paul Verhoeven himself raised in Starship Troopers.
At the same time, having been raised in a post-apartheid society, Neill imbues that story with all the intimacy and humanity of a photo album, rather than the dispassionate veneer of propaganda. Bringing that humanity to this story makes District 9 one of the most dangerous, hurtful, honest, and ultimately hopeful, inspiring, optimistic movies yet to come from our generation of filmmakers.
While District 9 is one of the first true science-fiction films of the decade, it's also much, much more. My recommendation is that you make sure to see this in theaters this week. On the one hand, original storytelling like District 9 needs to be supported. This is so much better than the films we've been getting, and so much more important.
On the other hand, any movie that bumps Moon and Brothers Bloom down on my favorite films of the year list... That's a film that has something to offer you. Give yourself a treat. If the emotional core of the story doesn't reach you - actually, you know what? It will. At the same time, so will the exploding bodies and power armor.
So will the hope.
In so many ways, Africa is the heart of today's world. With a new generation of filmmakers like Neill Blomkamp and Gavin Hood, that heart is finding a voice we can all relate to. Listen up, people.
At it's core, District 9 is the story of a man who's been sucked into the engine of fascism. His ignorance and comfort fuels a system that permits an elite group of people to build a long, fruitful future at the expense of an oppressed class - in this case a ship full of alien refugees. Like any oppressor, these MNU guys figure they have the "prawns" under their thumb.
Like any oppressed class, the prawns are by no means helpless. Weak and desperate, they certainly fear the MNU... but while some of them are cowering and appeasing the humans, others are making plans. As in most uprisings, these plans are about securing a future for the children.
Nobody's really communicating. Nobody understands the motives of the enemy. This is the story of our times.
In the end, it takes an unexpected, violent breach in this wall of assumptions to let the standoff between the prawns and the MNU find release and outcome. Our man in the system, through means I dare not reveal, is pulled into that breach and becomes the flashpoint, the catalyst, that turns the system on its head and brings hope for a peaceful outcome.
Because as it is, things are primed to get very, very bad for everyone.
Like all of us, Neill Blomkamp clearly grew up on Richard Donner and Paul Verhoeven movies. Like all of us, he clearly loved the cinematic realism and the performance aesthetics of the 70's movies that predated them. District 9 is rife with the awesome. In many ways, Neill Blomkamp has addressed the same issues that Paul Verhoeven himself raised in Starship Troopers.
At the same time, having been raised in a post-apartheid society, Neill imbues that story with all the intimacy and humanity of a photo album, rather than the dispassionate veneer of propaganda. Bringing that humanity to this story makes District 9 one of the most dangerous, hurtful, honest, and ultimately hopeful, inspiring, optimistic movies yet to come from our generation of filmmakers.
While District 9 is one of the first true science-fiction films of the decade, it's also much, much more. My recommendation is that you make sure to see this in theaters this week. On the one hand, original storytelling like District 9 needs to be supported. This is so much better than the films we've been getting, and so much more important.
On the other hand, any movie that bumps Moon and Brothers Bloom down on my favorite films of the year list... That's a film that has something to offer you. Give yourself a treat. If the emotional core of the story doesn't reach you - actually, you know what? It will. At the same time, so will the exploding bodies and power armor.
So will the hope.
In so many ways, Africa is the heart of today's world. With a new generation of filmmakers like Neill Blomkamp and Gavin Hood, that heart is finding a voice we can all relate to. Listen up, people.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Is there such a thing as bad press?
In my mind, the only time controversy works against a film is when it's rooted in issues the filmmaker hasn't deliberately addressed.
To get into your story, the audience needs to know they're in good hands. Forgive me a metaphor, if you will:
If you're in airplane and it's flying upside down, you're not going to be able to talk with your neighbor or enjoy the scenery.
Now, sometimes turning the plane upside down is the point. If the passengers know that, then at least they can take in the experience and trust that the pilot won't get them killed.
On the other hand, what about turning the plane upside down when they're supposed to be looking out the window at the Grand Canyon? Think they'll appreciate that gorgeous Arizona high desert under those circumstances?
No, sir. They're too busy wondering what the crazy jerk in the cockpit is up to.
When artists talk about making everything a choice, this is what they mean. Controversy is useful when it's based on deliberate choices. When it's not, the film comes off as accidental or incompetent. Those are the only two things you never want people saying about you as an artist.
To get into your story, the audience needs to know they're in good hands. Forgive me a metaphor, if you will:
If you're in airplane and it's flying upside down, you're not going to be able to talk with your neighbor or enjoy the scenery.
Now, sometimes turning the plane upside down is the point. If the passengers know that, then at least they can take in the experience and trust that the pilot won't get them killed.
On the other hand, what about turning the plane upside down when they're supposed to be looking out the window at the Grand Canyon? Think they'll appreciate that gorgeous Arizona high desert under those circumstances?
No, sir. They're too busy wondering what the crazy jerk in the cockpit is up to.
When artists talk about making everything a choice, this is what they mean. Controversy is useful when it's based on deliberate choices. When it's not, the film comes off as accidental or incompetent. Those are the only two things you never want people saying about you as an artist.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Last Word on the Stormcrow
For me, this business isn't about principles. It's about people.
In the end, I'm seeing that making broad or controversial changes to the tone of a screenplay is not about compromising ideals, so much as being clear about the core strengths of what I've created. Once I see those strengths, I want to put them in a light where they can have the most impact... where they can do the most good for the other folks involved in the film.
Most of all, that includes the audience.
In the end, I'm seeing that making broad or controversial changes to the tone of a screenplay is not about compromising ideals, so much as being clear about the core strengths of what I've created. Once I see those strengths, I want to put them in a light where they can have the most impact... where they can do the most good for the other folks involved in the film.
Most of all, that includes the audience.
Monday, August 10, 2009
A New Chapter for The Stormcrow
Movies with the depth of the Exorcist or the Shining are hard to make, and therefore represent additional risk. By taking nuances performances out of genre material, the writer makes them easier to produce - and therefore less risky.
Here's what I've been wrestling with: Is it ever appropriate or necessary to rob a story of it's emotional layers to make it's marketing angles more obvious? Is the job of a genre spec script to make the job of a director, producer, or executive as easy as possible, or to give them the opportunity to make a great film?
Clearly, the two are not mutually exclusive. At the same time, today's great horror films are only made by auteurs.
If I'm writing a horror film with the intent to sell, does it behuve me to lay it on thick, and to forego the genuine dread for a more stylized, less subjective approach? I'm thinking yes.
Don't get me wrong! Those delicious subtle nuances that make my stories so interesting for actors can certainly be present in films like Last Light of Day, which I plan to produce and direct myself. At the same time, I think the reason the Stormcrow hasn't sold is that it's not painted with the broad strokes a studio exec can wrap his head around and see through production.
Most horror films today are more about moodiness than terror and dread. For a long, long time, I've mulled over the words of a successful horror producer: "This is great stuff, real horror. I have no idea how to market it."
Buddy, I think I finally heard you. Get ready for the new Stormcrow!
Here's what I've been wrestling with: Is it ever appropriate or necessary to rob a story of it's emotional layers to make it's marketing angles more obvious? Is the job of a genre spec script to make the job of a director, producer, or executive as easy as possible, or to give them the opportunity to make a great film?
Clearly, the two are not mutually exclusive. At the same time, today's great horror films are only made by auteurs.
If I'm writing a horror film with the intent to sell, does it behuve me to lay it on thick, and to forego the genuine dread for a more stylized, less subjective approach? I'm thinking yes.
Don't get me wrong! Those delicious subtle nuances that make my stories so interesting for actors can certainly be present in films like Last Light of Day, which I plan to produce and direct myself. At the same time, I think the reason the Stormcrow hasn't sold is that it's not painted with the broad strokes a studio exec can wrap his head around and see through production.
Most horror films today are more about moodiness than terror and dread. For a long, long time, I've mulled over the words of a successful horror producer: "This is great stuff, real horror. I have no idea how to market it."
Buddy, I think I finally heard you. Get ready for the new Stormcrow!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
One reason I write:
You know what? I sometimes write screenplays specifically because a certain actor has inspired me to challenge and push them in a specific way. For example, Sam Bailey is written for an actor I've respected and loved for many years named Aaron Lyons, and the actions of the film play to his strengths. Simultaneously, the conflict is something that is very personal and risky for him, and the promise of capturing that catharsis was the impulse that led to creating the story.
Of course, projects change over time. There was a chance that someone was going to buy this movie, at one point. At the same time, we've wound up embarking on the process of producing it together. I'm glad it worked out that way.
I'd like to take a moment and recognize Aaron's bravery and commitment, not only for stepping up to the challenge of Sam Bailey, but also for his ongoing work as a producer in helping to bring those challenges get realized.
Of course, projects change over time. There was a chance that someone was going to buy this movie, at one point. At the same time, we've wound up embarking on the process of producing it together. I'm glad it worked out that way.
I'd like to take a moment and recognize Aaron's bravery and commitment, not only for stepping up to the challenge of Sam Bailey, but also for his ongoing work as a producer in helping to bring those challenges get realized.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Rewriting Sam Bailey
Several months ago now, I had a cast reading of the sixth draft of Sam Bailey. When I left I had several pages of notes, and as I mulled them over, I began to realize that they reflected one or two core issues with the script, fundamentally linked to the structure and the motivation of my main character.
Put simply, I hadn't been brave enough. My characters had approached the story as if it might hurt them, and I'd let them do it.
So much of that I'd written on that screenplay had been polished and shined up that nobody was seeing these problems for that they were. Very cleverly, I'd lacquered my words over the challenges of the script until I didn't have to look at them anymore.
Breaking through all that crust into the hot molten core of the story took me almost two months of the hardest writing I've ever done. Now the script is a cracked, broken mess - but one with a much more volcanic structure. Since I broke through the crust, the heat and magma is seeping up. Drama has been unleashed from the cooling grip of my own fears and doubts.
Sometime back, a young screenwriter insisted that their screenplay was good so long as it was taken in a certain context. On his screenplay, I told him, the warning should red "EXPLOSION HAZARD: UNSTABLE MATERIAL" and not "USE AS DIRECTED". Part of why I blog and post on forums is so I can eat my own words. Keeps me honest!
On the one hand, surveying the wreckage of Sam Bailey: Draft Seven gives me a sense of exhaustion. Cleaning this mess up is going to take some heavy lifting and lots of elbow grease, for sure.
On the other, I know I'm somebody who's willing to put my hands on the beating heart of a story and massage it to life - even if it was my own self-protective blathering that bored it to death in the first place.
I've put the new script in front of my actors so they can see where things are going, and how the characters have changed... While the craftsmanship might not be as handy as I would like, I think seeing how much deeper into this story we're digging - and most importantly feeling the escaping heat - will give them a great deal of confidence.
It certainly has for me!
Put simply, I hadn't been brave enough. My characters had approached the story as if it might hurt them, and I'd let them do it.
So much of that I'd written on that screenplay had been polished and shined up that nobody was seeing these problems for that they were. Very cleverly, I'd lacquered my words over the challenges of the script until I didn't have to look at them anymore.
Breaking through all that crust into the hot molten core of the story took me almost two months of the hardest writing I've ever done. Now the script is a cracked, broken mess - but one with a much more volcanic structure. Since I broke through the crust, the heat and magma is seeping up. Drama has been unleashed from the cooling grip of my own fears and doubts.
Sometime back, a young screenwriter insisted that their screenplay was good so long as it was taken in a certain context. On his screenplay, I told him, the warning should red "EXPLOSION HAZARD: UNSTABLE MATERIAL" and not "USE AS DIRECTED". Part of why I blog and post on forums is so I can eat my own words. Keeps me honest!
On the one hand, surveying the wreckage of Sam Bailey: Draft Seven gives me a sense of exhaustion. Cleaning this mess up is going to take some heavy lifting and lots of elbow grease, for sure.
On the other, I know I'm somebody who's willing to put my hands on the beating heart of a story and massage it to life - even if it was my own self-protective blathering that bored it to death in the first place.
I've put the new script in front of my actors so they can see where things are going, and how the characters have changed... While the craftsmanship might not be as handy as I would like, I think seeing how much deeper into this story we're digging - and most importantly feeling the escaping heat - will give them a great deal of confidence.
It certainly has for me!
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