5 posts tagged “television”

Stuck in the Box --
    Has it really been nearly a month since my last entry regarding filmmaking? Geez, time sure blows by when you're working full-time and too damned tired to do much else but watch a movie or spend an hour or two playing video games before hitting the hay. Ah well, there's still another month left before I head back to San Francisco for good, and only another week or two before I leave my job (I gave them notice two weeks ago). Most likely one of our two films is going into production this weekend, which will be a nice change of pace.
    I decided the other night to scrap the screenplay for Purgatory in favor of pulling a Wong Kar-Wai; instead of writing everything out with stiff dialogue and trying to stick to a solid idea I'm going to try and be more natural. Fluidity is the name of the game. I'm just going to head out with my camera, tripod, and girlfriend (who plays the lead character) and just shoot the scenes I've got in my head, and once Derek comes back from jury duty next Tuesday we'll start shooting his scenes as well. Heck, we might even be able to shoot the scenes that I'm in as well, given that one of Mari's friends is staying over for a few days. Most likely I'll add in a couple of scenes here and there to extend the film a bit, as one of the biggest problems I've had with the previous scripts is how rushed and compact it all feels.
    Another change I wanted to make was to ditch the whole dark comedy angle and make it a bit more ... well, I guess I'd call it demented. I've always been a fan of darker films that tend to explore a character's nature instead of having some character with problems being placed in some situation that allows them to work things out. Mari likes the idea, as it'll give her character a whole new dimension that was sorely lacking based on the scripts I've written. Not to mention it's easier for me since I can stick with what I know; most of my recent stories tend to be told from a first-person perspective, and the characters tend to talk about themselves an awful lot despite what goes on around them. Sure, it's kind a cop-out to revert to a style you're already familiar with, but at the same time we - as in, The Breakfast Machine - have yet to make a real film that isn't some sort of action/martial arts short. The only exception is Apt. 309, which I liked because it was an homage to The Twilight Zone (1959-1964), one of my favorite TV shows.

     My friend King, a graphic artist and animator, was telling me a few weeks ago when we were brainstorming ideas for an animated short together that one thing I need to do is to start thinking outside the box when it comes to the types of stories I come up with. We've worked together on a few occasions, notably a few years ago when we came up with a script that served two purposes - a treatment for a film and the basis for what would later be an idea for a graphic novel that I still want to do. He knows what kind of stories I write, and we both know that they're stories that aren't exactly the kind that appeal to everyone since they're darker in nature and tend to be somewhat personal. One thing he suggested I do is to try and think of stories that are generally appealing and deal with situations and problems that lots of people run into, and also to try and shape them so that they're funny (well, he may not have said that, but I guess it was implied, given that he wanted to do a comedy).
    Purgatory was originally going to be funny, in a Wes Anderson kind of way, I suppose. It was supposed to look at the idea of an afterlife and make fun of the gravity of a situation like being dead, but somewhere along the line I think I lost that sense of comedy that I originally envisioned. It's just not that funny anymore, and everytime I look back at the first draft of script I tend to frown instead of laugh - if anything I'll laugh because the dialogue's just that bad. Death itself is something everyone deals with, but at the same time it's not really something that people find very funny. My girlfriend had a particularly impacting death in her family, and I sometimes feel like an ass because I'm casting her as a dead person, and part of the original screenplay includes a scene in which she commits suicide. Yeah, a bit screwed up, I know.
    At any rate, this project isn't really for "mass appeal". It's really to prove to myself that I'm capable as both a writer and a director. Unlike most of the other films I've been involved in, I'm trying to take complete control of the reins instead of just having Derek do most of the work (which he usually wants to do, with the exception of the writing). It's a way for me to exorcise the ideas I've had in my head for months, almost years now.
    I'm tired of giving excuses for not having started. That's probably the biggest reason why I'm just going to go out and do it.

    Note: The title is fairly inappropriate considering the content is focused around an American cartoon using the anime aesthetic, but the more I think about it, the more I feel like this really does apply to a lot of other anime series, and it continues some of the stuff I talked about in the first part regarding fandom.

1. Fans v. Fandom
    A week ago my girlfriend and I were ecstatic because it was the series finale of Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005-2008), a show that I've loved since its debut and - only this past summer - she had gotten into as well. On one hand, yes, we were sad that the series was finally coming to a close, as all fans are when one of their favorite shows does the same. At the same time, we acknowledged that all the loose ends would finally be tied up in one epic finale, which was what we had been anticipating since the beginning of the season; hell, they technically gave us two epic finales, the first being the mid-season finale. We enjoyed every second of the last few episodes, and once it was over we were both still reeling from it, trying to cope with the fact that it was over. Sometime during the week it sunk in, and I think for the most part we're both satisfied with the outcome.
    As much as we'd like there to be another season of the show, it wouldn't make a lot of sense given the circumstances in the current story. Think about it. It's like trying to fit another full Harry Potter book after killing off Voldemort - there wouldn't be anything left to talk about other than second-rate issues that most fans can probably resolve with their imaginations. And that is exactly where this division between fan and fandom occurs. Before I delve further into this, allow me to present a situation which will hopefully show the difference.

    Yesterday at the San Diego Comic-Con the creators of Avatar, Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko, held a panel for the show, in which they screened what looked like a clip from a supposed fourth season of Avatar. The result was the video you see on the right-hand side: a hilarious poke at the legions (and I do mean legions) of "Zutara" fans. In case you're unclear about the whole Zutara thing, essentially there's a huge debate among hard-core Avatar fans [link may not be work-safe] about whether Katara, the lead female protagonist of the show, should be romantically involved with either Aang, the protagonist and canonical love interest, or Zuko, the former antagonist-turned-protagonist. Supposedly, Zutarians claim that they make up the "core audience" of the series. Not too sure how accurate that is, but if it's - somehow - true then Mike and Bryan should start thinking about re-targeting their audience.
    Anyway, to put it bluntly, Mike and Bryan - the creators of the show - essentially said two things: (1) there will not be a fourth season of Avatar, and (2) seriously, get over it, Zutarians. Hours later, I find posts like this, filled with hundreds of comments from whiny fangirls who are "heartbroken" and plan to "give up the series altogether" because the creators didn't pair Katara and Zuko together - and that should not be a spoiler to anyone at this point.
    So at this point I'm sitting here scratching my head and saying to myself, "Wait, you're going to dislike the show because the creators told the story they wanted to tell? What gives you the right to decide how it should be done?" I don't get how, all of a sudden, the "core audience" of Avatar hates the series just because their stupid delusions weren't adhered to. Are these people really so ignorant that they think the creators are just going to change the canonical ending of the story and make another season (let alone a remake of the series, as I've seen suggested/hinted at) solely for the purpose of pairing Katara and Zuko up? Good lord, I almost feel dirty for being an Avatar fan!

    This is where fans and fandom differ. While fans will ultimately respect the decision of the creators and accept the finality of whatever they decide to do with their creation, fandom chooses to alter the fictional reality of the setting to suit their own tastes. They live in their denial, defying canon and essentially ruining a perfectly good series. Fandom does not know when to stop, much to the chagrin of real fans.

2. The Dilemma of Creators
    Avatar isn't the only series to provoke this kind of behavior. Back in the early days (read: high school) when I first started writing lengthy stories I was involved in fan fiction myself, and I saw this sort of thing all the time. It didn't take me long to realize that my favorite series were being ruined by no-talent, creative-less hacks who simply cared about pairing up their favorite characters. Not long after, I switched over to writing original fiction of my own creation.
    Creators like Mike and Bryan really deserve some respect for having to deal with their crazed fanbase year after year, and doing so in a way in which they continue to be themselves. One of the biggest problems with creating something that becomes a hit is that the fans think the story should go one way that may be entirely different from what the creators envisioned, and they get testy when their demands aren't catered to. These fans feel like the creators are marginalizing them in some way, but in reality the creators need to tell the story the way they want; they're not there to satisfy some childish personal desire of their fans.
    As a writer I have a very clear idea of what I want to do in my stories. I know what's going to happen with the characters and the story, even if I'm not looking straight from beginning to end, and when I do change my ideas they're because of practical reasons, not because of someone else's desire to see such-and-such happen. Mike and Bryan probably worked the same way with Avatar. Because of that reason I accept their work for what it is. They haven't disappointed with the show in its three-year run, and if anything I appreciate and respect them so much more for not giving in to the demands of either the producers or the fans, both of whom would love to see a fourth season. I'm not really sure why anyone else would think differently.

    As far as I'm concerned, I think the Zutarians are a ridiculous little cult that seriously needs to stop whining and get over it. They need to start to live their lives outside of a cartoon world, or at the very least accept the fact that that's just how the story goes. Frankly, by now it's just really annoying for the rest of us.
    Time to get back to real life now. I at least feel a little better that I got all of this out of my system.

   Lately, my roommate's been watching a Japanese anime called Lucky Star. A few minutes ago he and another friend were watching an episode of it on our living room TV, and I sat here at the computer listening to it and cringing. And that cringing leads me to write this entry, to explain why exactly I hold some contempt for the whole anime aesthetic and the people who adore it. In discussing this issue with my friend, we came up with three things in particular that I seem to focus on: (1) narrative, (2) artwork, and (3) fandom. While I'm sure there are more elements I take issue with, these are the three things I seem to have the problem with the most.

1. Narrative - "My Life for a Decent Storyline"
   Being a writer and an avid fan and student of literature, I love books and movies that can tell good stories. Ones that can keep me immersed in a different world for hours upon end. If I feel like I'm emerging from a dream at the end, then it's been worth it to dedicate the time.
   One of my biggest gripes with a lot of anime series I've come across are that they have no real story to them, or when they do they're so cliche and boring that I don't feel like watching the other 80+ episodes. For example, series like Inuyasha and Pokemon, which just never seem to end despite every episode having the exact same formula. I mean, even the shows that my roommate loves (Lucky Star, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya) don't seem to really do much in the way of plot, and simply serve as a vehicle for seemingly random events, 'cutesy'-ness, and cultural inside jokes. To me, shows like these are a real waste of time, because I don't feel invested in the characters at all, nor does there seem to be any reason to continue watching because nothing is really happening episode after episode.
   On the other hand, there are certain anime that really attract me because of their strong narratives that transcend the importance of the genre and aesthetic. Neon Genesis Evangelion is quite possibly my favorite example of this. Although it tends to be shoveled into the genre of a 'mech' or 'giant robot' show, Evangelion focuses heavily on plot, character development, and the infusion of religious and philosophical criticism. While the show doesn't necessarily rely on its anime aesthetic or cultural relevance, it's hard to imagine the show being made anywhere else in the world. It's the same with a film series like Godzilla - it just doesn't work when you try to adapt it.
   I also should mention here that, when I think about it, a lot of the American cartoons that I really love - Rocko's Modern Life, Ren & Stimpy - don't actually have stories either. They're more like sitcoms in that sense, and while they don't actually go anywhere, I still love them for some reason. Perhaps it's the cultural difference between American cartoons and Japanese anime. And here, I have to stress the need to point that YES, CULTURAL DIFFERENCE DOES MATTER (more on this in my third section on fandom).

2. Artwork - "I Know What I Like"
   This section is a little more subjective, because people will always debate on whether animation (including 3D) should start moving towards realism or not; usually this comes up in discussions of next-generation video games. When it comes to anime the artwork of a show usually falls within a range of at least three areas: from realistic to moderate to exaggerated. The first area is self-explanatory. The third area tends to evoke more of a cartoonish feel, with a reliance on extreme facial expressions, unrealistic movements and actions, and 'different' appearances. The moderate area is pretty much a blend of the two, and typically seems to be used in shows of mediocre quality.

    Personally, when it comes to anime I tend to prefer shows that have a more realistic look to them as opposed to the cartoonish style of others, mainly because the shows that use the exaggerated style of artwork are the very same ones that have no real story. The exaggeration of the artwork tends to be part of the comedy since it allows with a wide range of physical actions that you wouldn't see in more realistic shows.
   Now that's not to say I only watch shows that have a realist attitude. Hell, most American cartoons are extremely exaggerated. Many of my favorites even tend to use anthropomorphic animals as characters. It's just that for some reason I haven't found myself actually liking anime that use anything but. And as that old saying goes, "I may not know art, but I know what I like."

3. Fandom - "Or, Why I Don't Like You"
   I've always wanted to write about the fandom surrounding anime. When I was in high school I was part of that group, known by the Japanese term otaku - if you'd rather not look it up, it essentially refers to anime geeks. Anyway, there was a span of time when I'd watch anime with my friends, attempt to learn some rudimentary Japanese, and use the same stupid exaggerated actions that the characters in the shows do. By the time I was ready to graduate I'd learned to stop that crap because I started caring about my public image - which does say something about the kind of image that is produced by engaging in anime fandom. It's not like you don't see this in other realms, otherwise there wouldn't be a fan about Trekkies, Comic-Con and Wonder-Con, or the entirety of geek culture that's become more and more appealing over the past decade.
   The biggest problem I have with anime geeks is that they tend to worship a culture that, more often than not, they understand very little about. As opposed to what most would like to believe, Japanese anime does not depict a realistic view of Japanese culture or society, and it won't help you speak the language. Japan itself is a country that has a long, rich history that goes back centuries, and watching its cartoons is probably the worst way to try and grasp any notion of Japanese consciousness. What's worse is that there are hundreds of people out there who make no attempt at all to actually learn anything about Japan through academic means; I've heard stories of anime geeks who fail Japanese language classes and classes about pop culture because of their reluctance to learn anything outside of what they get from anime.
   As I've said, cultural difference does matter. For most American otaku, I feel the need to pull them aside and remind them that they're not Japanese (sure, there are a good number of actual Japanese Americans that are ethnically Japanese, and depending on the case they remain the exception). If you're a white person who's lived your entire life in sub/urban America, you can't honestly expect anyone to believe that you're in tune with Japanese culture. And you shouldn't be going by some typical Japanese name you got from a cartoon. Anime is ripe with cultural constructs that only those who have lived in the society can understand, and many more instances of cultural relativism and criticism. We as Americans experience a very different lifestyle than the Japanese, and vice versa, and it just seems weird how so many Americans are obsessed with this false image of Japan that they almost construct for themselves. To me it's a more extreme version of cultural tourism.

   While I could say the same thing about Trekkies or Star Wars fans, there's a certain cultural importance when talking about otaku. Even the Japanese seem to think we're silly people for our love of silly cartoons, catgirls, and maids. And unlike the aforementioned examples, more and more younger kids are becoming anime fans these days as it becomes heavily mainstream in American media and as an aesthetic that a number of American cartoons are attempting to cash in on as the cultural divide begins to become more and more blurry. You don't see as many kids playing with toy lightsabers and wanting to be a Jedi when they grow up. Too bad. As time goes on, anime's continuing mainstream success will only serve to devalue the aesthetic as a cultural value central to Japan. After all, why bother with authentically Japanese shows when you could use the same style of artwork, toss in some typical cliches like giant robots and people with cat ears, and skip all that subtitling crap by making everything in English. Oh, and you can forget all of those strange jokes that Americans don't understand because of their cultural specificity. Perfect!

   It's hard for me to completely express my feelings on a matter like this in a single post. Most likely I'll find something that I forgot to mention and smack myself on the head for forgetting such an important issue, but until then this post will have to suffice. Anime is a touchy subject for me, given my personal involvement with it years ago, and I'm still skeptical about the whole idea of watching it because I don't ever want to go back to being one of those people. It scares me for some reason.
   I'm pretty sure this guy would tend to agree:

   Earlier today I was actually thinking of sports in relation to the way we think about film and television, mainly in terms of spectatorship. Most film theorists including Christian Metz viewed film as a medium that, although viewed in a theater packed with other people, is actually consumed by an individual rather than as a group. Sure, you can argue against that statement, but contrast watching a film in the theater with watching a film on TV with a group of friends. In the former mode of viewing there's more of an internalization of the story (let's assume the film is a fictional narrative), more engagement with what's ultimately going on in the world on-screen. In the latter mode one is more prone to staying outside the boundaries of the diagesis, remaining grounded in the real world via talking, making jokes and references, et cetera. As one theorist - whose name I unfortunately can't remember - wrote, film's relation to a viewer is likened to that of a novel. (Bare with me, I'm getting to my point regarding television and sports.)
   Now television works on a fundamentally different level in terms of spectatorship. For the most part television is produced as a medium that actually depends and thrives on a large audience, though to a large extent fictional television still retains many of the functions of film. Take a show like Battlestar Galactica, a terrific serial that invokes the same engagement with the diagetic universe created for the audience. You know you're not the only one watching, but, as you're watching and remaining engaged with the story you unconsciously negate that factor. It's okay, that's natural.
   Sports, on the other hand, along with certain types of shows including newscasts and reality television, tend to work in the opposite manner. Whereas narrative fiction is all about engaging one-on-one with the content, sports use the content to invoke a sense of unity between the largely unseen audiences. Here, the sports event is the spectacle, but because sports are inherently about a kind of a shared pride akin to something like nationalism within a country, it automatically presupposes this notion of 'us' - as in 'our team'. Not only do fans stand behind their team, but they also stand alongside - though not literally, at least when watching on TV - countless others, forming a collective group of fans who also share the same experience. This experience isn't the same as the kind you get from a show or film, especially these days when select episodes are available for download at any given moment or available for purchase on DVD. No, sports events are based solely on a fleeting moment in time, one that is often forgotten barring any memorable moments. What remains usually is the effect, either of a win or a loss, that carries over to the next game and remains cumulative over the course of a season.
   Take sports rivalries for example. Not only do they exist between the teams themselves, but fans also feel the same distaste for each other that the players do. And the fans tend to remember and relive old rivalries long after the players do in many cases - the San Jose Sharks and Calgary Flames have been rivals in the National Hockey League for years due to the Sharks besting the Flames in previous playoff series, and even though many players have come and gone in that time, the rivalry is still felt between the players, both rookies and veterans. And, of course, the fans on both sides have kept the 'flame' going (hur hur, pun!), due to the two teams facing each other in the 2008 playoffs.
   You can see this unity most clearly at sports bars, with everyone huddled together watching the television screens, cheering their team on in hopes of a victory. The fans watching the game on TV automatically have a kind of affinity for the fans in attendance at the actual game in that they're all watching the same game at the same time, and cheering for the same team. Get it?

   Yeah, it's getting late and my thoughts are starting to get a bit cloudy. I should get some sleep, not only because I have another early morning tomorrow, but because game five of the series between the Sharks and Flames is on tomorrow night. And you know I'll be watching, along with thousands of other Sharks fans. And with that, I give you ... Joe Thornton.

   The other day my friend and his parents gave me a ride back to San Francisco, and along the way we stopped by Costco so they could get some food for Easter Sunday. As my friend and I browsed through the crappy selection of video games and mostly cheap films we stumbled upon a gold mine of cheap television boxsets for as low as $15 a pop. Granted, most are shows I've never really watched, but they did have all three seasons of both Arrested Development and Veronica Mars, two of the most intriguing shows I've seen in awhile. Needless to say, I wound up getting something (er, rather, my friend's parents got me something so now I owe them $16) - I decided on the first season of Arrested Development.

   Back around Freshman or Sophomore year of college I first saw AD with my two friends, because one of them bought the entire first season after his mom introduced him to the show during a vacation. At first I figured it'd be the typical show my friends, both of whom I'd always thought were more intellectual and 'sophisticated' than me: funny in a witty, the-jokes-on-the-people-who-don't-get-it sort of way, with characters that make obscure references and who get into situations that aren't funny unless you've experienced it. Well, it wasn't all that, but it was the type of show I didn't normally watch back then. However, I did start finding it extremely funny, and by the end of the first season I found myself really adoring the colorful cast of characters, the engaging narrative structure, and the hilarious situations. It was, for all intensive purposes, the one sitcom I actually liked (I was never a fan of Friends or Seinfeld).
   A year or two later, when I first upgraded to DSL and discovered torrents, I downloaded the second season of the show, but watching it by myself I could never get farther than a couple of episodes. My friends had long watched the season, so I was on my own. Eventually I just kind of stopped and forgot about the series. Until now, that is. My mom and I have been watching the first season together, and she really digs it as well. It's been fun to watch again, and I'm glad I bought it. Maybe sometime soon I'll head back and get the rest of the series. Real shame that it was canceled after only three.

   Television series and serials are strange like that though, especially in the United States. Unlike films, we always seem to want TV shows to go on forever, even when they seem to get stale. Hell, I stopped watching The Simpsons a long time ago because it started getting boring; even The Office is going down that road too. There's just something about wanting to hold on to the experience that those shows bring, but ultimately that experience really just has to end, less the material gets old. In some ways I'm glad Ronald Moore straight-out told Sci-Fi that season four is the last season of Battlestar Galactica. As much as I love the series, I couldn't imagine how they'd possibly stretch it out for more than another season. I mean, they've done practically everything that can be done without repetition or continuity errors. While I'm sure all the fans are going to be sad with the show ending, at least the creators get to end it their own way, they get to end it right.
 

  You can't say the same for all good shows. Most of my favorite animated shows from when I was a kid didn't get a chance to end things on their own terms. Rocko's Modern Life was just kind of phased out after Joe Murray (the creator) left the show, and Craig Bartlett, who made Hey Arnold! wasn't able to end the series with the 'jungle' movie he wanted to do, and instead the show's final season ended with a bunch of crappy episodes that put the characters in ridiculous situations. Sure, give Doug a proper graduation but forget all about the football head.
   It's always the good, interesting, unique shows that tend to suffer. Arrested Development and Firefly are two more recent examples of good shows that went underappreciated by both networks and fans until long after their cancellation. It's really too bad, because they're shows that should've been able to go on longer; I would've much preferred a secon season of Firefly over Serenity, which didn't really provide the closure I was hoping for.

   Television is definitely a realm that needs to be changed. The current network-dominated setup just doesn't allow for creativity these days, what with all the reality shows and crappy new sitcoms that won't ever be as popular or funny as their predecessors. Personally, I think we need to start thinking about alternative means, possibly using the internet or other public-funded channels. Sure, like film, television shows cost a lot of money to produce, but when has that ever stopped independent filmmakers from making good movies? Hell, you just need the same things - a camera, a crew, a cast, and material. TV shouldn't be seen as this horrible thing that's rotting the minds of kids and turning people into couch potatoes. Maybe it's what I learned from Prof. Hastie over the past year, but I'm starting more and more to see the vast potential for an alternative form of television, one that has yet to be cultivated. All it takes is a little embrace and ingenuity.