8 posts tagged “writing”
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.
Telling Stories
When I started writing stories in second grade they were never very good despite being better written than my classmates' stories, which usually had to be dictated and modified by my teacher in order to make sense. While most of their ideas were original or based on personal experiences, mine often mimicked the movies I'd seen or the games I'd been playing. I guess I've always had a fondness for being influenced by other media forms. Still, my love for stories came about fairly early on in my life. By the time third grade rolled around I was already reading decent-length novels, and by fourth grade I had read both Jurassic Park and The Lost World: Jurassic Park twice, read practically every R.L. Stine book in existence, and had started writing my own science fiction novel, which has evolved over the years into something that I would have never expected - part of an amalgamation of stories and ideas for video games that I once thought had the potential to rival Star Wars.
Somewhere during college I think I lost some of my creativity, in no small part thanks to the rigid Creative Writing department at UCSC and the fact that I had to write loads of academic essays for a multitude of classes. The problem I had was that in my creative writing classes I had no real control of the style and aesthetics I wanted to employ in my narratives, which often blurred the lines between reality and what one of my TAs called "genre" fiction. The department had a very narrow approach to writing in that it had to be non-commercial, stick well within the boundaries of a realist mode, and utilize a very plain (and now popularized) mantra of "show, don't tell" aesthetics. Frankly, I couldn't see how this was anymore creative than using the Schaeffer Method. It was after being rejected twice from UCSC's Creative Writing department that I realized that it would've been a mistake to deny myself the privilege to retain my own style and sense of creativity that I'd developed.
In both my films and my writing I try to stick to my elements. There are certain things that I just like doing, not only because they're in the vein of other artists who I feel in tune with, but because they fit within the realm of what exactly I want to do. There are also a number of things like narrative tropes that I tend to utilize because they pertain to events in my life that I can't let go of (or want to). Tropes like a troubled relationship, cheating ex-girlfriends, and anonymous meetings. There are other tropes that I've come up with - as I said last time, I wrote out a list - though I've yet to use them in a finished product.
Aesthetics are also key. Although I always used to 'think big' and plan things out that were far too advanced to be practical, I've developed a kind of minimalist attitude based on the work of some Taiwanese New Cinema directors like Tsai Ming-Liang and Hou Hsiao-Hsien, who let their characters tell the story while the camera - and audience - sit back and observe. That's something I want to achieve with Purgatory, once we get around to shooting it this summer. As with my narrative tropes, I have a list of techniques that I feel suit me best depending on the kind of story I'm telling and the mood I'm aiming for. Even though I've never really taken a production course (outside of a six-week summer course in which I learned almost nothing), I feel like it's for the best. Part of me wants to tell myself this is a bad thing, because in the real world of filmmaking there are certain rules you need to adhere to, certain techniques that you just have to know in order to even be able to be considered for a job. The other part of me slaps me in the face with memories of being rejected from the Creative Writing department, and simply asks, "Do you really want to be just like them? Just like everyone else?"
There's a certain freedom in doing things your own way. Sure, it might be more difficult to gain acceptance and acknowledgment, but at least you can revel in the fact that you're doing what most people can't/don't/won't. You're standing on your own two legs without the aid of manuals and guides telling you how to tell a story. Seriously, if everyone stuck to these rules and aesthetics, wouldn't everyone's work be exactly the same?
(PS: I realize I'm a day late in posting this entry, but it couldn't be helped. Having a full-time job in which I have to wake up at 6AM every morning is more hectic than I thought, and a friend from out of town came down for the day. I'll start blogging the night before from here on.)
In a (vain) attempt to start blogging more - now that I actually have time to do so, what with college being just about over with - I'm going to attempt to regularly update all of my multimedia blogs. Perhaps I'll start updating my personal blog as well, though I somehow doubt that, since most of the people who can actually read it I see and talk to on a constant basis. Given that today is Wednesday, I've decided to update Film Major on Wednesdays. I'll start out updating once a week with major topics, and perhaps I'll sprinkle in some minor posts here and there when I feel like it. I'll have a lot of time this summer to work on blogging and personal projects, so I'll do just that.
Of course, I'll start next week. I've still got another final paper to write for tomorrow and my graduation on Saturday, so I can't possibly muster up anymore focus than I'm already devoting. Besides, I've yet to find a stable audience (not even my girlfriend will read my lengthier posts, haha), so I can afford to skip this week. Perhaps instead I'll go back and rework some of my entries, fixing things like spelling errors, tags, et cetera.
Until next week, when I'll be an official college graduate!
2008 is coming up fast, and I've been coming up with a rough draft of resolutions for the new year. One of my main resolutions is to watch 120 new films throughout the year, broken down into about 10 films a month. Now that may not sound like a big number to someone who constantly watches films, but with graduation and a thesis to write in the next few months I won't exactly have a lot of freetime to kick back with a good flick. Not to mention going to the movies these days is getting extremely pricey, and new DVDs aren't cheap either. Still, I'm going to try and make time to watch that many movies.
Looking back on 2007 is still fun though. Despite my year being fairly ordinary (yet incredibly fast), I did manage to see a lot of good movies. To me it felt like this year was big for comedies, as most of my big picks for the year seem to consist of such. Good to see that something so "simple" can get the appreciation it deserves; comedy is harder to pull off than you'd think though.
Anyway, here are my top ten favorite films of this year, including some that - before 2007 - I had never seen before:
7. Devils on the Doorstep, 2000 -- Despite seeing dozens of new foreign films this year this is the only Chinese film that actually made my top ten list. It's really one of the most stand-out films I've seen in a long time, and one that deserves a larger appreciation than it currently has. Jiang Wen, one of mainland China's most premiere directors, was banned from directing (until this year) because of this film.
6. Shaun of the Dead, 2004 -- Yeah, I'm surprised I never saw this movie before too, being the huge George Romero fan that I am. This film is quite possibly the best homage to Night of the Living Dead I have ever seen, and it's a romantic comedy to boot! What I find funny is how many people say that this film is to zombie movies as Scary Movie is to slashers and other horror films; they just don't get it. Ah well, now fans and non-fans of zombie movies have something they both can enjoy.
5. Chasing Amy, 1997 -- Take Kevin Smith's sharp, witty dialogue, an oddball romance, eccentric characters, and you've actually got one of the most romantic films I've seen in a long time. It almost feels completely different from Clerks and Mallrats, and I can definitely see why Criterion decided to put this one out.
4. Memento, 2001 -- As a writer I just love the narrative structure of the film. It's perfect for this gritty neo-noir whose focus is memory and revenge. The dark and somber mood is also something I particularly like, and overall the film is a mix of everything I'd like to achieve as a filmmaker and writer. And that's saying a lot.
3. Superbad, 2007 -- Remember when I said this year was big on comedies? Yeah, this one here is one of the biggest reasons why. Superbad is one of the funniest movies I've seen since The 40-Year-Old Virgin (one of my favorite comedies, period), and it's one of the few comedies that I'd gladly pay to see in theaters - which I did. Despite being a teen comedy that doesn't pull punches when it comes to potty mouths and sex jokes, it definitely speaks to my generation.
2. Rushmore, 1998 -- I don't ever remember actually finishing the entire movie before this year, which is the reason why it made my list. Oh god, I can't even think about where to begin with Rushmore... it's just pure genius from start to finish, a film only Wes Anderson could make. And the soundtrack is incredible.
Honorable mentions: The Most Terrible Time in My Life, The Seventh Seal, The Killers, Stray Dog, A City of Sadness, Silent Hill, Heat, The World. (Hey, it was hard picking just ten...)
Well, those are my top ten picks from 2007. With over a hundred new films to watch in 2008, I'm sure I'll have an even more difficult time trying to narrow it down to ten by this time next year. Ah, well. Happy New Year, all!
I know it's been awhile since I've posted anything, but believe me, there's a good reason. Try having to write about thirty pages worth of analytical essays across three different classes in the span of six days. Yeah, it's a lot of freaking work. Fortunately I managed to finish up everything on time, but by the last few pages I was mentally exhausted and completely out of gas. It's just so hard to do so much in so little time. On the plus side, I think fall was probably the hardest quarter I'll have all year, so I should be pretty well off until graduation.
The last day of classes I stayed behind and had a nice chat with one of my professors, who's sponsoring an independent study I'm doing for winter. We talked about a lot of things ranging from film and getting a job teaching at the university level to earthquakes and car crashes. Tracing the line of the conversation was pretty funny. Anyway, what struck me as a bit interesting was how one gets a job teaching.
Essentially you turn in an application and resume as usual, as well as a thesis (I think). From there, the university narrows it down to a small number of candidates who run a colloquium or talk on the subject of their choice, and after all the candidates have presented, the faculty of the university decides on who - if anyone - they want to hire. Apparently it's not uncommon for the university to not hire anyone, even after going through all those stages. It's pretty shocking to imagine, given that all of this takes place over six months or so.
Guess it'll take a lot longer than I thought if I want a job teaching film.
There's a reason why I haven't blogged in almost a week, and it's because I had to write a little over fifteen pages' worth of essays during that time. Ah, midterms. I'm sure after graduation when I have nothing better to do but work I'll actually miss them. Speaking of which, my quarter is ending in another three or four weeks, which means finals are right around the corner. For me that entails two more lengthy essays and a final project for my seminar on film theory. The other day I came up with an idea of what I want to do.
The assignment essentially calls for a project that expresses how each of us in the seminar views cinephilia, and we can do this in any way we want to so long as there's the inclusion of a written portion (another eight or ten pages). Some suggestions my professor noted included an autobiographical element, something I've always been good at (well, most people should be good at talking about themselves). Immediately I thought of writing about my passion with collecting DVDs.
My DVD collection's currently sitting at 110 (box sets and multi-disc movies count as single DVDs), with three more on the way that I wound up winning on eBay for a good deal. Before the year ends I'm hoping to bring that number as close to 150 as possible. Why? Because I want to build a massive library of films that I like - and I just happen to like a lot of films. One of my bad personality traits happens to be that I'm a huge materialist, and I attribute that to growing up on the edge of being poor. My theory is that if you spend money on something, you should be given a tangible object, something you can keep and enjoy again and again. I'm not a big fan of one-time experiences, especially the more enjoyable ones, which is why I don't go to the movies as often as I'd like these days. It's just too expensive, and if I'm going to spend that much money I might as well go to Streetlight and get a DVD for the same price.
To tie in to that part about materiality, I have to say that I just love how my collection looks. Whenever I look at my bookshelf and see it filled with movies I just have to smile. There's a kind of pride in having such a huge collection because it represents a part of myself. One girl in my seminar talked about her library of books. She said that even though she probably won't ever reread the majority of her books, she loves keeping them on display because it gives a measure of "intelligence" and "experience" (her words) - it shows others that she's read those books and consumed them. To an extent I agree with that position as well.
Another facet of collecting I'm interested in exploring is how certain companies seem to cater to those types of crowds. Take The Criterion Collection, for example (the word "collection" is right there), and the more recent Dragon Dynasty. Both companies prominently tag their DVD releases with numbers and keep a catalog list that acts as a handy checklist of sorts. And, if you like the films they put out, collecting them all becomes a habit because you know that there's some kind of overarching element that connects them all; one film leads to another through a common connection.
The same goes, in a way, with "special editions". They feel special, and having those editions instead of regular, more mass-market editions gives you a sense that you own something slightly more valuable. And typically they're a better value, especially on sale. I made the mistake of buying the single-disc edition of Pan's Labyrinth when it first came out on DVD, and a week later I saw the two-disc set for only $5 more. Needless to say, I kicked myself for that blunder. Hard.
I think based on this idea, of special collector's editions, I want to make my own DVD, cover and all. My essay will take the form of a booklet insert, and the DVD itself will ... actually, I'm not sure. I was thinking of doing a short film asking people about their own forms of collecting and/or viewing experiences, but that might take more time to do. We'll see how I feel by next week. I definitely need to do the writing portion as soon as possible, especially since I have to present my outline in two weeks.
But hey, I think it's a good start. My DVDs are a big part of my life, and I hope that I'll be able to pass them on when the time comes.
The other day in my film theory seminar we talked about the relation between cinephilia (which is the overall focus of the course) and knowledge. We're supposed to write a five-page essay about it before November 5th, but I figured why not bounce some ideas around on my blog? Anyway, we're being asked to write about what it is the exact correlation between these two things, using Metz's idea of film as a "socio-psychological" tool and examining one of these two books and their respective film:
I have to admit, I wasn't too thrilled about seeing Singin' in the Rain again. The first time I saw the film it was in my first film class, an introduction to the "film experience", and I remember hating it (especially after seeing the "I Was Made for You" sequence dozens of times ... since we had to write an essay on it). Still, after reading Wollen's book and realizing how much work and hardship Gene Kelly put into the film (and how much he suffered after), I can actually appreciate it. When I brought this point up in class yesterday, my professor then asked, "Does this knowledge then make you a cinephilia?"
Good question. Personally, I don't think it makes me a cinephilia, but rather I feel like cinephilia's will always crave that extra knowledge that goes alongside any film. A cinephilia most likely will go for two-disc sets that come with hours' worth of special features whereas someone who just likes movies are content with regular editions that come without extra features; they just want the movie. Of course, this is all my opinion, and I'm generalizing a lot. For one, there is no standard definition and criteria to judge one as a "cinephile". Second, although I consider myself a cinephile to an extent, I don't actively seek information on certain films, especially if I don't actually like them (Singin' in the Rain is a prime example).
Yet I do feel like there is that desire for knowledge, that desire to learn about the history and the theoretical concepts behind a film. The problem is knowing whether that knowledge (1) makes a difference to certain people, and (2) whether the knowledge is sought or not.
Like I said, I'm just trying to bounce around some ideas. I've got a lot of time before my essay is due (though I need a draft by Monday), so most likely it'll hit me eventually. And with that, I leave you with this:
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