Category: Filmmaking

« Older Entries
August 22nd, 2010

So, I finally watched Napoleon Dynamite… Gawd!

Holden Caulfield, the jail-bait Tyler Durden, and I didn’t meet until I was 20. He was just a stunted high school boy and I was a super-sophisticated, college girl. But it seemed wrong to completely dismiss him, without even so much as a text message hook-up, especially as my friends thought he was the sexiest literary character since Fabio.

So, my sophomore year, wearing a lot of black and feeling very grown-up, I succumbed to my friends’ peer pressure and finally read “Catcher.” And when I closed the book, Holden’s high school problems, as I predicted, seemed so beneath me. I simply couldn’t relate to his anguish. I was in a different place in my life. Because we met when I was 20 and he was still 13, Holden Caufield wasn’t power-ballading the anthem of my childhood, Holden was just a whiny little bitch who needed to grow up, go to college, drink some Jaeger. Jaeger, woooooo!

Then, last week, when my best friends staged a film, gunpoint, A&E style intervention, I wasn’t surprised. Apparently when my alien leaders dropped me here, they neglected to mention to watch Napoleon Dynamite. How I managed to avoid it, I can’t tell you. It wasn’t because I was a hater. I somehow just missed it, like “Catcher.” But according to my captors, I mean friends, not only was I going to watch this movie and love it because Napoleon Dynamite is the best movie I’ve never seen, it’s sorta like the best movie ever, gawd! We never got as far as the “or else.” Jeff VanVonderen got me to agree to watch the movie.

I want to be very clear about this “intervention.” It was less like an intervention and more like an on-going, harrowing, pitch-fork-wielding, water-boarding with homemade guacamole. Since “my friends” (I doubt if that’s even their real names) discovered this flaw in my cultural downloading over a year ago, every outing is “Give me your tots.” I would smile, nod, realizing I would’ve probably found it funny had I been in on their “oh-so-clever” inside joke. But they’re Evildoers. What do you expect? They water-board with homemade sangria. Evildoer Janelle, the ring leader, was more like “Please do borrow my copy and keep it for as long as you like. And here’s some leftovers wrapped in a tinfoil swan,” but whatever, you get the point. Evildoers, just the same.

Armed with was was purported to be the Citizen Kane of Indie Comedy, I gave it a watch. I can’t tell you I hated it, but I also can’t tell you I loved it and felt connected to it like they do. It was just okay. I laughed. There were funny moments, interesting characters, a world that was well-drawn and unique. It had many excellent qualities. So, I figured, maybe Napoleon Dynamite is one of those movies where the more you watch it, it starts to grow on you like the best kind of toe mold. So, I watched it three times more. I liked it less. It turns out, just like Holden, it’s just not my bag, man.

After about the first 15 minutes, I actually said out loud “What the hell am I watching?” And honestly I still don’t know. According to Jon, another of the band of Evildoers, for me to even bother to deconstruct is ridiculous because I’m missing the whole point. The whole point is that there is no point. That’s what makes it genius. It’s not about an A to B to C plot, but rather the small moments that strings everything together. But I disagree. Every good movie has a point, every good movie has a definable journey either for the protagonist or the whole arc, every good movie satisfies, and for me, Napoleon Dynamite left something to be desired.

A script is an upside down pyramid. Everything that comes after your first scene rests on the structure you’ve built below it. So, when I find myself watching a movie and I’m an hour in and I still couldn’t tell you what the movie is about, I start to question where is the narrative? A movie cannot solely rest on the laurels of clever lines or quirky moments and be counted as a successful creative endeavor. Well, at least not in my book.

Emotional growth, pathos, goals, motivation are the necessary components of a successful film and script, and for me Napoleon Dynamite had none of that. It was a lugubriously paced, meandering, low-energy romp through Valium Village. There were no road maps or street signs, just a never-ending prairie road that lead to more of the same Nowheresville quirkiness. At any given point, I couldn’t tell you if I was in Act One or Act Three because the protagonist’s goal hadn’t been properly established from the outset. And that’s just frustrating.

What Napoleon Dynamite did have going for it, were the awesome characters who were inventive, fresh, and outrageous. Each character was a gem in their own right. They were simply drawn, yet deceivingly complex and they were all surprising and a delight.

Way to rock the side pony, Deb! Nice low rider, Pedro! You keep training to be a cage fighter, Kip. It’s gonna happen. I believe with with Lafawnduh’s true, chat room love, anything is possible. Uncle Rico’s high school football dream “gerbil wheel” was understated yet honest. And those bits, those details, those special moments and minutiae really are all genius.

However, when the pieces are put together, on the boneless skeleton I felt was missing, it was hard for me to care when Deb and Napoleon danced to “Forever Young,” even though the song is still stuck in my head. Liking a character, or what they say, isn’t enough to carry me along. I need the structure of a satisfying story to fulfill me on every level.

One of my criteria for a “repeat offender” movie is that I have to enjoy the energy of the film. And for me, Napoleon Dynamite didn’t speak to me. I thought that while it had an energy, breakthrough characters and awesome set design reminiscent of David Byrne’s True Stories, it lacked Byrne’s social commentary and heart. It felt like it suffered from 5 minute nonsensical Famiy Guy style cutaways.

Quirk with no substance behind it. For me it was cotton candy: sweet, delicious, and it instantly melts away, leaving you wanting something heartier. Napoleon was indeed a well-crafted, well-drawn character, and his sweet drawings of “Ligers, bread for their skill and magical powers” is totally rad by itself, but it’s not enough to propel a story forward. And for me there’s a breakdown there.

The Coalition of Evil BFF’s non-stop whipping me with lines from this movie, forcing me to like it before I ever saw the first frame might’ve accidentally soured me. I get you want me to vote for Pedro. I get it. Evildoer Jon and I had a call that went something like this: “You’re just a hater and you missed the whole point… This is the voice of my whole college life, you just don’t get it.” The call with Janelle went, “Friendship over.”

I recognize and appreciate Napoleon Dynamite for its fresh, bold characters, its clever moments, but maybe, like my aborted love affair with Holden Caulfield, I just missed connecting with it at the right time in my life. Maybe Evildoer Jon is right; maybe it’s isn’t about the story, it’s about the experience. So, I’m just gonna go “make myself a quesadilla,” and “just do what ever I feel like. Gawd!”

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Film, Filmmaking, Screenwriting, Writing | No Comments »

May 18th, 2010

Six Deadly Script Sins Part 2 – Writing Edition

An old article of mine “The Six Deadly Script Sins” has recently resurfaced,  and some of the comments were that writers wanted less about the do’s and don’ts of “presenting” your script to agents / prod co’s  for consideration, but rather they wanted to know about the do’s and don’ts of writing. So, here are my newest Six Deadly Script Sins, only these are about the craft of screenwriting, not the submission process.

1) Have one ending – Jaws ends beautifully.

The end. There’s no more, just one end. There is no need for a tag, and then a tag’s tag, and then a button on the end of the final tag. Just decide what the end of your movie is and commit to it. It’s exhausting trying to navigate more than one proper conclusion. It also makes you seem indecisive and amateurish as a writer.

2) Have an active protagonist – You character should always be doing something. They have to be the catalyst that propels the story forward. Allowing supplemental characters to cause havoc surrounding the main character is good story development and excellent to add plot complications, but you can’t rest on that alone. Set up your protagonist with a singular goal from the outset and have him work towards achieving it the whole script. It will give your protagonist interesting depth as well as create a built in plot device. Also try a MacGuffin if that better suits your needs.

3) If you don’t outline you’ll die. Well not really, but it is serious. Always. Always. Even if by the end of your first draft you’ve completely gone another direction, write the outline anyway. It’s good homework for you to know what the story is. It’s important that you, the writer, understand the full breadth of your characters and the over arching story. An outline is a horrible, tedious thing, but it’s good for you. It’s the brussel sprouts of writing. Just eat them and shut up.

4) Stop worrying about the writing and start worrying about the content. Yes your script should be well written. It should be properly formatted and in the correct font. But that isn’t the end. Your script needs to be concise, visual and above all convey a complete story. Spend less time worrying about how beautifully your action passages read, and think more about the content. You’ll find that you’ll feel less stressed when you realize pretty prose is for novels.

5) Don’t be vanilla. Yes, 90% of movies have the same beats and structure. I know you’re all “But my script…” yeah yeah, no. Your script is the same basic structure as everyone else’s whether you choose to believe it or not. It’s not that your story isn’t special, it’s just that there’s everyone else in the world with a story in their heart that probably touches on some similar beats. What will make you stand out are the details. A utilitarian scene is often necessary to give information or move the story along. That is the perfect time to add weird, quirky details if it’s a comedy. Throw in extra layers to your joke by building in visual references to complement your dialogue. That way you’re effectively hiding the fact that you need this scene to move from A-B, but at least it was interesting and unexpected. That way you’re getting more bang for your buck. I love when you get more for your money. Add the details. It’s worth your time.

6) You’re not Tarantino. You’re not Diablo Cody. You’re not either Gilmore Girl. I don’t care how cool your friends think you are. I don’t care that you once waited on Jane Lynch while you were a cashier  at a Bookstar. You are you and as such you are special. Quit trying to write preciously clever dialogue that is pervasive throughout your whole script. If you have one mouthy teenager who says the coolest, hippest street ever. Awesome. Give her her own voice. She deserves it. But if mouthy teen’s mom, the green grocer, and an alien from Neptune all have the same patois, it grows immediately tiresome. Find a voice unique to each character. Allow each character to be rich and full. Don’t make them spew semi-cool dialogue out of every pore just so you, as a writer, can seem relevant. It’s just totes, lame peeps.

There’s tons more. As I think of them or as people comment I can certainly write more and expand on this as requested.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Animation, Filmmaking, Post-production, Production, Revisions, Screenwriting, Script Reading, Services, Television, Twitter, Writing | 6 Comments »

May 3rd, 2010

So, now what?

5 days ago, I finished my 108 page feature that I wrote in approximately 20-ish days, for Script Frenzy. As soon as I typed “FADE OUT.  THE END.” I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. The last month was jam-packed with stress and thinking and typing, and worst part was, I neglected everything else in my life just to finish.

Finally after typing until my fingers bled, I got to have mermaid time (that’s fancy talk for taking a bath),  get my toes done, have a facial to peel off all the layers of blood, sweat and exhaustion. And now, I am back to feeling alive.

But now that I’m alive again and have my first draft completed, where do I start to try and make my “vomit pass” a viable script? It’s so overwhelming that it seems insurmountable. So, now what?! Well, that’s when it’s time to call your story analyst.

Upon re-reading my script, while I got the basic structure down (thank god!), I recognize it’s not nearly good enough. There is so much that I wanted to accomplish and so much more I want still to do. It is in no way ready to be seen by an agent, a prod co, most of my friends. The only person who is going to get to see it, is my story analyst. Hey, all therapists need a therapist of their own.

So, I called my story analyst and booked a consultation. I needed someone to tell me what to keep, what to junk and what to donate. And it turned out to be great. Most of what I had I could keep. Some of it was actually funny. But a lot of it was utilitarian place-holders that needed to be replaced with sparkling dialogue and clever character quips.

My friend Janelle was on a mission from God, yesterday. She showed up, like Moses to shepherd me across the Red Sea of cookbooks that was drowning me in my living room. It was a bad scene. Janelle came in, opened my basically empty and cavernous hall closet  and said, “We can start here.”

She was right. We did the linen closet and realized I wasn’t lacking space, I was lacking organization. I needed someone to say to me “Take manageable bites.” Someone to help me sort through all my amazing things, help me take stock of what’s important and what’s donatable and what’s garbage. I basically needed a story analyst for my closet.

Thankfully, my story analyst was able to help me with my first draft. He really put things in perspective for me and is actively helping me reach my goals. It’s so important too, for you to have someone like that for your writing. You need someone you can confide in and trust, someone who is non-biased and most importantly someone to help you move forward after your first draft is complete. Because there’s always going to be revisions.

My story analyst allowed me climb out from under the massive stack of  mis-matched towels, and show me what my story really looked like. And you know what? It’s really cute in here!!

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Events, Film Festivals, Filmmaking, Revisions, Screenwriting, Script Reading, Services, Twitter, Writing | No Comments »

April 27th, 2010

The 5-Hour 1-Mile Marathon, Scriptfrenzy Day 27

Okay, so I’m now 27 days in and I have written 91 pages. That puts me 1.1 pages over my target. I should be happy, but I’m not… this script is still not finished. Why is the end so hard to reach?

When I started this script almost a month ago, I was ready. Well, sort of. After three or four false starts, I was ready.

I had my outline, Final Draft, I had snacks… it seemed like a winning combination. I would stare for endless hours at my screen and then I would type diligently for 20 pages. I would procrastinate and then I would write 3 really tough pages for 9 hours. I never seemed to find my rhythm like in other projects.

This whole writing process, this writing to a self-imposed deadline with no promised paycheck at the end, reminds me every minute of every day of a 1-mile marathon I ran when I was a kid.

My step-mother, Eileen, and I trained for weeks to participate in Millbrook, NY’s fun summer festival activities with the hopes that I would do great. I always have loved the idea of being a runner; the light on your feet pounding, the swift feeling of power as you raced your body hard like a steam engine. I always could see the deliberate turning of the body’s gears, as I watched other runners passing me by on the NYC reservoir’s track and I longed to be poetry on my feet.

My family had a weekend house there, so we practiced running the course religiously. We also ran in the city. I never could keep up. Even as a 13-year-old, I was no runner. (Author’s note: at 13 I had a D-cup. Now that I’ve put that inappropriate image in your head, here’s a picture of your mother.)

Well, the day of the race came. I woke up, I was ready to go. I was running the course in my mind. I laced up my sneakers. I was bouncing around like Rocky. That’s what runners do, right? They warm up and stuff?

My parents took me down to the starting line a bit early. I was one of those busy-body kids. The kind of kid you tell to stay someplace, and they don’t listen. They go off in a fog, thinking their weird kid thoughts and then wind up sleuthing mysteries that no one knew existed. Well, yeah, that was me. So on that day, I wound up next to the awards table and discovered they were giving trophies for the various races. There was one for the 1st girl and 1st boy of the 1-mile race. Hmm… I liked my odds for a trophy. I looked around at the other kids who were taking their place, and so far, it was only boys and me. I also liked my odds for having a soda with a boy at the diner afterward. But that’s another story.

I silently prayed that no other girls would show, just so I could trophy, and that’s when they gathered us around. The gun was fired. We were off and running. Haha! I was the only girl in the race, and provided I didn’t die and I crossed the finish line, I would win a trophy! I was so getting that trophy, I was so getting it, if it killed me.

At first, surrounded by a bunch of very cute boys I was running and bouncing and being a pony-tail flipping moron. For about six feet I kept this up, until I couldn’t breathe. The cute boys all ran very ahead of me, very quickly, leaving me with my plodding feet, beating mercilessly down on the cruel hard pavement, my gasping breath that no amount of well-intentioned training could’ve prevented, it was just me and the road. I had to run or quit. It was up to me.

So, like a quarter mile in I’m thinking, how far is a mile? That’s like 20 NYC blocks right? I can run 20 blocks. So like that’s from my house to 73rd Street. I can totally do that. Then maybe two NYC blocks later I start complaining to myself “The reason why NYC is so much better than the stupid country is that there’s stuff to look at while you’re running the mile. God!” This carried on for maybe six more NYC blocks, until I was too tired to silently complain anymore. I was now just groaning on a loop inside my mind.

I had run this course before. I knew how much farther it was going to be, and it was indeed far. I couldn’t breathe. My legs were burning as they always did every time I tried to run. I wondered how it was that people were able to run 26 miles. I didn’t think at this point I could evade a serial killer if I had to. I would be the first person killed in a horror movie. I just knew it.

But I kept on running. So, like NYC block 17, I’m basically blind, sort of delirious, definitely deranged. I can’t breathe. I am drenched with sweat. I feel pretty low, but I’m still moving. Barely. That’s when the ambulance showed up. I wondered who they were there for. I hoped they were alright who ever they were. The paramedic, sitting  in the open back door of the ambulance spoke to me. “Are you, Xandy?”

The ambulance pulled up and around me, so that they were in front of me, pacing me while I ran. One of the paramedics sat in the back, the doors open, his legs dangling. His partner tooted the horn at me. I was startled. I shivered, I was roused, like a demon was released from my body. And there before me was the smiling paramedic. He told me all about the mayor and how he was worried that I was dead. He told me to get in the ambulance and they would drive me the rest of the way.

I had been gone so long that the mayor thought I was dead? How long had I been running this mile? Going on 3 hours. No wonder I was so tired. I was dehydrated, I was exhausted. I was basically brain dead. The paramedic tried to hand me some water, but I refused. The mayor thought I was dead?! Oh, crap! There would be no trophy for me now. All of this for nothing. I slowed to a stumble. The paramedic told me to hop in. They would take me the rest of the way.

I was done. I was done 8 NYC blocks back. I was dead on my feet. But I was no quitter. As soon as I realized the mayor thought I was dead, and sent the ambulance to resuscitate me I got a second wind.  I don’t know from where or how, but I roused and I ran. I wiped the sweat from my beet red face, I fixed my pony tail and I ran.

I refused to let the ambulance take me the rest of the way. I had come so far and only my determination would carry me across the finish line. And, something like 20 more minutes later, about another quarter of a NYC block,  I finished. The whole town was there, to cheer me across the refastened finish line.

Everyone came out to see the girl who took nearly four hours to run a mile. It was humiliating. Everyone in our town now knew us. The search for me, or really the town-wide caucus to decide if they should send the ambulance to go find me, had really brought everyone together. It would’ve been sweet if not at my expense.

I made it three inches on the other side of the finish line, and that’s where I collapsed. My parents were there. My dad had many stories about the nice people concerned about me, about all of the people who volunteered to uncover my dead body. Eileen was proud of me that I finished on my own. So was I. In fact I was so glad to no longer be moving, that I forgot that I didn’t win a trophy.

I was finally able to stand. Eileen said I could order whatever I wanted from the diner to celebrate my victory. That’s when the mayor came over. He was thrilled to discover that while I was indeed a wreck, I wasn’t dead and a girl found alive during the town festivities is a weight off of his shoulders. The race had been over for the better part of 5 hours for everyone else, even though it was only really minutes for me. But, he handed me my trophy anyway, and said that I deserved to win just for having the strength to finish. I felt renewed. I accepted it and walked with my parents to the diner and ate probably the best BLT that ever existed.

I’m sure that as soon as I type “The End” on my script, I’ll feel as accomplished as I did after finishing the 5-hour 1-mile marathon that cost the city $17,000 in man hours and service from the dedicated paramedics. How does this relate to my #Scriptfrenzy script? Well, I’m right now at NYC block 17 and I’m really looking forward to my BLT.

Tags: ,
Posted in Events, Film Festivals, Filmmaking, Production, Revisions, Screenwriting, Twitter, Uncategorized, Writing | 1 Comment »

April 12th, 2010

You Can Be As Creative As You Like, While Staying Inside The Lines

The last time I wrote a feature script, it was 5 years ago. I wrote an outline. I sat down and stuck to it. 10 days later I had written exactly the movie I outlined. I had produced 101 brand-spankin’-new script pages. It was cute. I was very pleased with myself.

The logline: An upscale NYC chef returns to Montana to open a restaurant, after she is publicly dumped and fired by her celebrity chef boyfriend.

It was all feelings, and quips, and beautiful food imagery. The characters were a little cloying, but on the whole it was charming. And it got good traction. Good enough traction, in fact, that along with some of my other specs, I started getting serious TV work.

Where’s the drama in this chain of events? Here’s the drame: after writing for television for 5 years, it was super difficult to around and remember how to write a feature script. Television is its own animal. Shows have to maintain consistency. They have to keep your favorite characters occupied for 22 to 44 minutes a week. And don’t forget act breaks, teaser and a tag. But just like Mr. T probably wouldn’t miss an A-Team mission to babysit, you have to make sure you stay true to the show before anything else. (p.s. this episode did not air… but it could’ve on “A-Team: Babies.”)

In TV, you basically have the creative freedom to do what ever you want, provided it fits within the pre-established confines of the show, such as characters, locations, plot points and the world in which they live. The show “mythos” is already establish. You are merely responsible for the machinations of the plot and clever character quips. That’s writing for television. It’s like an open book test.

When I was a kid, I loved to color but while my work was always beautiful and creative and interesting, it was always inside the lines. I wouldn’t cross those thick black lines with my crayons, not even at gun point. Writing for television is getting a coloring book page, and being told “You can be as creative as you like, provided you stay within the lines.”

Take a look at series bibles (here’s a pdf link to the series bible for Batman: The Animated Series) and you’ll see. The show runners have already fleshed out the world in vivid detail. They’ve given you some basic premises to give you a sense of what to pitch. And at the outset, a writer receives the character bios, the plot points they’re looking to hit,  and any other materials required to immerse yourself in a pre-established world.

Back to feature writing. So, 5 years go by and I have no movie ideas, until recently. As it’s not done yet, I still have 18 days to finish 50 pages (I’m feeling good about it) I’m not divulging any of my current Script Frenzy script secrets other than to say, it’s a comedy and well within my skill set. That being said, this has been the hardest “writing assignment” I’ve ever had!

I wrote my outline like I always had. An outline is an outline is an outline. It should always be basically the same, no matter what form or genre you’re writing. It should have broad strokes, and enough detail to keep you writing swiftly, a fully fleshed beginning, middle and end. You outline should cover basically every scene in the script, what happens, what is learned and then on to the next. So, I had one.

Then I started writing. The first 10 pages were like being constipated after eating fondue; uncomfortable! I was rigid and I wrote to the outline but it just laid there, flat and plain. There was no pizzazz, no sparkle, no Xandy. I had left myself no wiggle room to imagine, no creative freedom to try the unexplored. I knew my idea was good, in fact it’s already been pitched and there’s interest. I realized I was doing this all to myself because I was trapped in the boob tube.

This went on for a couple of days, until I found myself with my friend Merrel (he’s my story analyst) and I told him about my problem. He had read the outline already, so he was familiar with the work.

(more…)

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Animation, Events, Film Festivals, Filmmaking, Revisions, Screenwriting, Script Reading, Television, Uncategorized, Writing | 2 Comments »

« Older Entries