Counting the Days
February 25, 2008
I’m about halfway through my new screenplay Shh…, which is a good place to be. It means that my tone and basic direction is fairly set in stone, and that I can partake in some of the more recent fare being released. Doing so earlier can sometimes put me off of some of my ideas, or worse, force me to over-complicate them to set them apart as there will undoubtedly be something in every story that feels vaguely familiar. I’ve always been told to avoid editing your story until you’re well into the it, as you can end up running in sand and never get to what might be original about your take on the idea. All storytellers operate from roughly the same repeated myths, so it’s very likely our impetus to begin is closely related, but just like a beam of light shot at one degree of difference in latitude, the further you get along, the further away your idea will find itself in the universe of tales. If you’re lucky, and your idea is directed at the more intimate independent market like this one is, you’ll fall in love with a few characters and they will direct you. That’s happened, and while I’m pleased with how it’s going, I’m still looking forward to getting the first draft in the can. I’ve also set a deadline of March 5th. So the heat under my arse has just been raised a few degrees, too.
Well, I finally got around to seeing Cloverfield. And I must say, J.J., all is forgiven. It was riveting, fresh, and did well to create a sense of helplessness without losing the fun. The creature was impressive, as was all the little creaturelings, and the writing did a tidy job of answering any of the more obvious questions the audience might be asking such as “Where did it come from, and why continue to shoot footage when you’re in danger of being caught between the toes of a giant sea spider?” As a writer, you do need to determine how much of your arse you need to cover in any given story because there will undoubtedly be enough holes in your conceit to strain sandy lettuce. Again, I sometimes insist on writing my way around every piece of backwards logic and thereby muddying up the narrative, so it’s important to patch over only those that slow things down. If you’re doing your job of entertaining them, they’ll stop trying to find the gaps.
And that’s precisely what Abrams has pulled off with his monster flick. So many pictures describe themselves as an white-knuckle ride, but this is the first in a long time that actually made me feel like I was on one. It wasn’t that I was very scared, because while we know these characters in that intimate way the reality-based P.O.V. allows, we also see them as a vehicle for our amusement. However, the little that we root for our main characters is quite an achievement given the sort of film Cloverfield represents. The information on our leads is scant and rather petty in the larger scheme of things, much like the concerns of most teen-angst and twenty-something horror dramas. But they carry us, literally, and we want them to stay on their feet. I must say I’m really looking forward to the DVD and the extra featurettes, especially the director’s commentary. That should be as good as the film itself.
I’m debating on reporting a running commentary of my new story, serially leaking the narrative to give any curious readers out there the opportunity to follow along. I think it would be fun, more so if I managed to receive some feedback. Maybe I’ll consider writing a story that way, from scratch. Pick a few ideas, lay them out, and have you all choose which you like the most, suggest characters, and perhaps even direction. I’ve heard of something similar done before, but this would be more along the lines of an online, creative think tank. I’ll have a think on all that.
Back to it, then. My main character is trying to recruit the help of the town drug addict to help him find who took his daughter. The thing is, it all happens in a strange afterlife where our dirty secrets must never be revealed for reasons still unknown. Unfortunately, for an annoying telemarketing salesperson who once took his job very seriously, keeping your mouth shut doesn’t exactly come easy.
Friends in Low Places
February 15, 2008
I’m going low. Budget that is. Not only do I pretty much have to to get something read, I’ve decided that I prefer films that do it with story, character and casting. It’s what it’s all about, and it makes the idea of making films fun again. It lets you go deeper, allows your flourishes to have more individual style, and you aren’t expected to outdo big studios with lots of money and supergenius CGI animators under contract.
There also seems to be more of a specific talent required. The kind that understands people and relationships and what really nibbles at our nerves. As a writer, I like to have my characters talk to each other more than I like them to fly through the air and do impossible things with their bodies. I like them to say what they don’t mean and mean what they don’t say. I like them to be funny without trying, and scary despite their every effort to be human. I want them to look different than what you might see on the a typical, cookie cutter production, and talk like the people you know. I want them to be beautiful and ugly at the same time. I want them to be difficult, and flawed. And I want all of that to matter in a way that tells the story where to go.
I get the sense with some modern big tent pictures that we’re trying to break through the gradual desensitization of our audience with a bigger hammer. Harder, bigger, stronger, faster…isn’t that what the helmet heads are talking about? I’m as weary of our heroes with six pack abs as I am with those with six packs of beer, southern accents, and big dumb grins. I don’t feel like heralding the stupid or the superhuman, and I’ve lost all inspiration to mine the extremes. Above all, I’m completely through with going to see a film and leaving with the audience in that awkward silence that says “We’ve all been a little had. Again. Oh well, what do you want to do now?”
Recently I saw Rob Zombie’s remake of Halloween, and I loved it. Not because it was so much better than the original, because frankly, in some important ways it wasn’t. But you can tell when a filmmaker has really fallen in love with his characters and can’t wait to bring them alive. That they happen to be the kinds of people that I might run from in real life informs the genre and makes all the difference because to be honest, I’d probably get caught up in their shit, seduced by their freedom. In that way I decided to buy the rest of the film, even the parts that were so fucking darkly lit I couldn’t tell what was going on. I wanted it to succeed, I pulled for it. And after it was done, don’t you know I watched it again with Rob’s commentary which only supported my sense that this was a group of folks that were meant to be together and make this movie. Not one of them was doing it just for the cash or as a career vehicle. No one who realizes that they’re going to have to do the convention circuit to pay the bills really does. I love that.
I also was directed to a place called House of Fear (thanks, baby). It’s an estate in Cornwall, England that is setting up an in-house, self-sufficient studio system like the old Hammer Horror days. They’re looking to produce a film a month, all of the horror genre. Fucking hell, what a great idea. There are several recognizable names in horror and independent film lore attached to the place as well, and three of them are the only three people in the film business whose pictures I have hanging from a wall someplace in my home. Two are signed. It makes a difference when you know they love what they do, doesn’t it? Maybe I’ve been living in my own foggy, little castle for too long but it does to me. Anyway, I’m going to wrap up my new screenplay and get it to them. It’s going very well, by the way. The idea that someday some of you will meet my characters keeps me going. And for those who like to be thrilled, how does the idea that you leaving a film feeling energized from ignored places deep in your psyche feel? Think about it: we never even saw Rosemary’s baby!
Ordered a new Jess Franco poster for my place and a few more of his films for my collection. Got Hammer’s Taste the Blood of Dracula on tap for tonight. Thinking of ordering Massimo Dallamano’s excellent giallo What Have You Done to Solange when I’ve got the extra scratch.
Loving it.
