Category: Television

March 7th, 2011

What I’m Watching On TV – Trailer Park Boys

When my friend Zac got on Miso, and started checking in to whatever he was watching, I thought how cool!! Now finally social networking for something I care about… television! I joined up, had my Miso linked to my Twitter and Facebook, and suddenly Covermyscript was watching TV for fun and profit… the profit was in my abs, chiseled by the power of laughter. Win!

On Saturday, Netflix told me I was missing out on CBC’s Trailer Park Boys. Well, Netflix to the rescue again! What a surprise treat.

Trailer Park Boys, is like The Canadian Office in a trailer park. It’s white trash awesome! And this mockumentary series is still capturing Canadian hearts, eyeballs and dollars, after eight years. In fact, the feature film sequel out in 2010, was the highest grossing film in Canada last year. Trailer Park BoysMike Clattenburg created some of the most interesting, rich, pathologically stupid characters I’ve ever enjoyed spending time with.

The series surrounds Julian, Ricky and Bubbles, three life-long friends, who are always trying to do the right thing the wrong way. That, to me, is really what makes this show likable. It’s not a 22-minute romp on the Jerry Springer set with no rationale behind it other than sheer exploitation. Rather, it’s about “real” people who love their families and community, and go try to provide for them the only way they know how… by stealing or growing dope.

It’s got a Cartoon Network Adult Swim vibe to it, which makes it all the more familiar yet inventive.  With Trailer Park Boys‘ sardonic humor, genuine heart, and the best never-ending flow of great low-class malapropisms since Voltaire, this series is one, exciting “hillabilly” adventure after another.

With 8-episode seasons, and seven seasons to watch, it took me a marathon three days to get through all the episodes, two movies and a Christmas special. While the movies didn’t have the same energy or success for me the series did, since there were so many episodes, I could just go back and re watch them again to death.

Thanks be to Netflix, you just found me my new favorite show. Follow me on Miso to see what else I’m watching.

January 31st, 2011

Outlining is Mandatory – Not Extra Credit

I am a total rule breaker, a rebel, Dottie, a loner. I cut in line when I don’t feel like I should have to wait (that’s the entitled New Yorker in me). I write my emails in all lower-case because I know, somewhere in writer heaven, William Strunk and E. B. White are sharing a drink and would approve of my minor rebellion. And I live in a special Eden reserved only for those who can stomach / thrive in the smoggy entertainment industry that is Los Angeles. Nothing about me is commonplace or pedestrian; everything about me is wild, edgy and unexpected… especially my writing.

I realized, after a heated debate during last night’s #scriptchat on twitter, some writers are flat out refusing to outline and I was shocked. I am no hobbyist. Writing is my profession, and as such, when I sell my work, people expect my scripts to not only be correct, ground-breaking, and unexcelled, it also has to be worth paying for. So, how do I make sure that I not only deliver a solid product that is exactly what the story editor / producer / client wants and still get to run free through the fields of creativity?  I OUTLINE EVERYTHING!

Don’t get me wrong. Outlining sucks. I hate doing what feels like extra work for free. HATE! Outlining is boring and hard and annoying and not as fun as running through the fields of creativity untethered to such banalities as a plan. Who needs a plan when it feels so good just to write? Well, writing for pay, or any writing really is not about the masturbatory feeling of creation. If you’re lucky, sometimes you get a happy ending and that’s awesome, but that’s not usually the end goal. It’s about getting the work done correctly and excellently. And the way to ensure that happens is to outline.

I can hear all of you non-outlining writers and your myriad of excuses like a Greek Chorus: it “hinders my creativity,” “forces me into a box,” “doesn’t allow me to find new angles with my story…” Yeah, I totally get it. But without an outline, the fields of creativity turn into a hall of mirrors and you will get lost in the reflection of what your story was supposed to be, not what it actually is. It is the very rare writer who is able to wing it and churn out a salable product at the end. So, basically, not you. Not me. Not 99% of working or aspiring writers. We all must outline, so we have a basic road map of the story we’re trying to communicate or your story will literally get lost in translation.

Outlining does not, in fact, hinder anything. It in no way hampers your ability to fantasize and create inventive scenarios for your characters to live out. It forces you to do all that awesome “thinking-it-through” before you ever hit page 1. It’s a twisted version of instant gratification. Outlining affords you the chance to play with your characters without spending tedious hours churning out pages that suck and eventually get deleted. In reality, outlining will help you and your story stay focused, and if you follow a few of my tips, you’ll discover that you’re in fact freer to do all the fun writing because your foundation is solid.

There’s a few ways / steps to tackle outlining:

I generally will have the client start by writing a simple beat sheet. Just a basic shopping list of story beats: this happens, then this happens, and then that happens, etc. It’s never more than a page, but it helps them see what their story really is, the important beats, the basic ideas and characters and helps them discover plot holes, lacking character arcs, and story misfires. The simple act of “thinking-it-through” always helps the writers see what is working and what still needs work.

Then, once we’ve gone over the 1-page and talked through the story they want to tell, versus what I’ve read, and they’re at a place where I feel like their barest skeleton is solid, I ask them to expand that simple 1-page into 5. It’s then, they can add more flourish, but not too much… this is an outline, not a short story, some important or funny snippets of dialogue they don’t want to forget, and flesh out the story a bit more.

After we review that, see how it’s working, discuss tweaks if necessary, I send them back to expand their 5-page outline further to 30-ish pages. I say “ish” because this isn’t an exact science. Some writers who are honed and in practice can deliver a solid feature outline in 20-pages, some are gabbier and need 40-pages. But 30-pages is a good number to shoot for. In this pass, I ask the writer to really tell the whole story (without florid language), scene by scene. 30-pages is enough to develop your characters’ emotional pathos, embellish your sub-plots, and still allow for dialogue quips, etc.

Then (and here’s my trick) what I do, and what I instruct my clients to do, is take that solid 30-page outline, and pop it into the script. Since you’ve been so painstaking in setting forth your story, you can use your outline as the basis of your first draft, building out your script from there. It always seems to the clients “God! Why is she such a sadist?!” until they realize, that they never have to stare at a blank screen. You’ve immediately got 30-pages of your script done, just by popping in the outline. It removes the pressure of facing that white page, with only FADE IN:. It’s a cheap trick, but it’s a good one. By then, you’ve already got a leg up on expanding your 30-pages into 90 or 120, but no more, because my bladder can’t take anymore 3-hour movies.

When you write from within the outline, you know which scene is next, where to plant the misdirection and how to heighten the tension, because you’ve already planned for it. But let’s say, now you’re into draft 1 and you think, “Eh, this isn’t working.” You’ve at least got your 1-page list of scenes, your 5-page outline and your notes to reference, which makes plot changes way easier to implement and keep track of, especially if it’s a major shift. You need to remember all the stuff that builds around it, and fix whatever is impacted by it. How are you supposed to keep track of all those balls in the air, if you forget one? Outlining will help keep your writing on the ball.

Writing without an outline can be fun and dangerous, but rarely yields successful results. Why not expend that same level of effort and enthusiasm by furiously typing in a constructive manner? Then, you will be free to run through the fields of creativity untethered by banalities… you’ll be able to have your script and write it too.

Photo courtesy of regrifters.com / Photo Credit – Jon Shaivitz

January 7th, 2011

Why your film education starts on TV with Rod Serling

I had a funny experience recently and I thought I’d share. A client Skyped (add me, I’m CoverMyScript.com) to do a consultation, wanting to run their idea past me before they launched into the great beyond of outlining, to see if I felt like their idea had merit. So I listened to his pitch, and it was indeed a terrific idea for a terrific movie; Harold and Maude. I told the client, you and Hal Ashby sure do have something there.

The client was puzzled, who was this Hal Ashby? Was he another client or a Hollywood writer? I was like, duh?! Harold and Maude?

“Hello?!” I said. “This movie has been made already and perfectly. So unless you own the rights and are doing a remake, you just pitched me a 40-year old movie.” The client couldn’t believe how he had never heard of it, because it did indeed sound awesome to him and immediately went to watch it on Netflix.

So, he books me again, two more ideas. This time he pitches me the “Invaders” and “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” episodes of The Twilight Zone, with no changes or differences. I would swear that it was plagiarism, had he not been so appalled when I told him, that he, like M. Knight Shalamalanadingdong had ripped off The Twilight Zone. I rolled my eyes so big, I’m sure they caused an earthquake somewhere.

This is now three times this guy has pitched to me, and three times they were ideas that had already been done and done brilliantly. He had refused any black and white movies or television because they were in black and white and therefore must be boring. I was alarmed and immediately set him straight. Everything comes from something and most everything comes from The Twilight Zone. I don’t mean literally, I mean the television program.

But his pop culture education was so woefully lacking, not only had he never seen an episode, he was unable to realize he was accidentally stealing the best produced ideas out there. I told him, when he crumbled under the annoyance of having to think up more produced stories to pitch to me that he should just watch The Twilight Zone and see all the stories that have ever been written. Because in their 5 seasons, they had maybe 6 bad episodes among 156, and almost every one of their stories was an original gem that many others have, in one way or another, ripped off. Better to know what’s been done, so you’re not treading over hallowed ground thinking you’re a genius. Or at least that’s what I told him.

For those of you unindoctrinated to the genius work of Rod Serling, he wrote the bulk of the episodes for The Twilight Zone, a series of his creation that ran from 1959-1964, after coming off a successful career as a movie-of-the-week writer for TV series like “Playhouse 90″, “Westinghouse Desilu Playhouse, and “Armchair Theatre”. Seriously, check him out. Read his work. Soak it up. He was one of the most prolific television writers ever. In fact, his episode “Requiem for a Heavyweight” is considered by most to be better than any boxing movie ever, including Raging Bull and On The Waterfront.

Find the script, read it. It’s fantastic. And it holds up incredibly well for a 50-year old script. Actually, it’s got a lot of similar themes to the current true story “The Fighter,” starring Mark Wahlburg and Christian Bale.

I’m not going to launch into a diatribe and chronicle Rod Serling’s whole career, because there are hundreds of books, articles and interviews on him everywhere. Go seek out his writing or if you’re too lazy to read, add The Twilight Zone to your Netflix queue. It’s worth it to watch the best serialized television ever created… even if it’s in “boring black and white.” Had we not been skyping, I would’ve smacked him with a copy of Metropolis. Fool.

December 8th, 2010

The Social Network patois and why it’s so annoying :,-(

The Social Network patois is annoying! Which part? The part where they…talk too much and say so much and so fast and it’s all so precious. My head hurts from The Social Network, Aaron Sorkin‘s 2-hour amped, surprisingly deposition laden romp about people writing code and backstabbing over fraternities that are really study clubs, chicken abuse and big bucks.

I listened to the opening scene: a break-up we’ve all had, a scene we’ve all written. A generic college bar, a guy and girl who can’t get it together. Harsh words exchanged at such a fast rate that it felt less like real life and more like the characters were waiting smugly with their barbs just to step on each other’s words. They weren’t talking like people, or characters really, they were using the writer’s own voice. And when everyone sounds the same, it’s a lot of shouting down a boring crowded hallway of clones.

Opening your characters to new voices while keeping them in stead with their peers is the way to properly craft a character. Besties will have common phrases, while so will criminals, generally not the same ones, but each person and the way they speak is unique and special and to just steamroll from one line to the next isn’t right, because it doesn’t give the actors a chance to emote, to relate, or to create the necessary pathos needed to care about the characters. Or to borrow a phrase from Tyler Durden, Sorkin is just letting his characters “Wait for their turn to speak.” He doesn’t give them the space to deeply interact. It’s like a boxing a hanging bag: boom boom boom boom. Rhythmic repetition but a slamming beat over and over.

Those characters weren’t connecting, they were reciting lines like every Sorkin character ever recited a line before them, well, but sounding like Sorkin himself, hyper, clever and geniusly aggressive. And maybe, if I play devil’s advocate for a second and give Sorkin some credit, and say he was setting up the pacing, the energy of the film, the characters as unlikable people through this opening scene, well he did that in spades. Except nothing about any of it endeared me to any of them. Because they were so go-go-go in the exact same way, my heart was thumping, due to the non-stop, rapid-fire, pseudo-genius-ease. I found the dialogue exhausting. I walked out and wished for aspirin for my aching head.

This whole movie felt like each character was hanging around the craft service table just waiting for their chance to deliver their lines perfectly. I LOVE David Fincher. He’s a God and his filmmaking is incredible. It was exciting, off-putting, confusing and while I felt the ending lacked some of the resolution I was looking for, I felt it was artful and worthy. It was beautifully shot, the pacing was excellent and the match reveals worked brilliantly.

However, the writing drove me mad! I tried to get lost in Fincher’s cinema, but I can’t help it. I can’t stand Aaron Sorkin’s “coke binge patois”… every character sounds like the same genius who has been up all night doing blow. And while that’s fun for some, it gives me a headache, especially when no one has their spoons out willing to share.

To be fair, Sorkin isn’t the only one whose writing I find challenging for this exact reason. Sitting through aggressive, same patios is exhausting, not because the writers themselves are not super-genius talented; they’re characters, every one of them, are a one-trick ponies and I want more.

The common thread here is that when every character in your script sounds the same: the grocery man, the teen slut, the butcher, the baker, and the gun runner, your script won’t read right. The best writers are writers who are able to have a total consistent voice that is their own, while imbuing their characters with their own voices and patois. For example, I might speak differently with my bestie at a rave than at a holiday dinner with the folks, but if my folks and everyone at the party sounds the same, and everyone in every scene after does as well, it looses its charm. But in movies like this, with very important writers, the WRITING IS WHAT MATTERS. Don’t make everyone sound the same. Give the characters the respect they deserve to be their own people. You put so much effort into creating them, make them the special individuals they are.

Yes, the story is important, but one part of the screenwriting process that is so neglected are the characters’ voices, and if you’re unable to craft them so that they’re different enough to live in the same world but “be their own people,” then for me your movie isn’t a success. I’m not lambasting Sorkin. He’s a genius and talented and he and I know it. I just wish he didn’t write all of his characters the same and at the same level of clever genius, studio exec or janitor. It makes them all seem dumb in their shining brilliance.

Oh and a little shoutout to Justin Timberlake trying to act. He’s so cute. I wanted to pinch his cheeks every time he earnestly tried to deliver a poignant line. Aww, Justin. Keep at it buddy, you’ll get there. I hear you’re the voice of Boo-Boo.

December 6th, 2010

Now go get your shinebox, and Fight Club that shit on my blu-ray!

This is the story of how I rediscovered my two very favorite movies. As my first two blu-rays I got Fight Club and Goodfellas, uh duh, because I’m not retarded. I got this crazy, awesome TV. I’m finally in stead with young 20-something men or the paunchy mid-life crisis sect in terms of my electronics level and I wanted my two favorite movies to christen my new PS3. (I was a good girl this year.)

So along came Tyler Durden, restored, remastered, sparring whilst sweat slowly dripped off his glistening abs in glorious 1080i. It wasn’t my first night at Fight Club, but I came to fight; well after talking through the first 20 minutes about how incredible it looked, so much so that the movie had to be restarted, because I hadn’t watched it for seeing it. I know. I must’ve been a boy in a past life.

Every shot, every extra detail, every camera trick was so familiar, yet so new and plainly visible, my brain exploded with possibility. When I was a kid, I only ever saw The Wizard of Oz on a 12 inch TV, that is until we got one of those giant rear-projection monstrosities and a laser disc player, when I was in high school. When I saw it I was like “Holy shit?! That’s what this movie looks like?”

This was the same experience. I saw details of the Paper Street Soap Company I never noticed, because my TV was so terrible. Bottom line, get the blu-ray. It’s your turn to fight.

Next Goodfellas, what a treat! Marty at his best, and the filmmaking was the star. Every shot, every camera angle, pure pristine planned perfection.

I sat around most of my freshman year at NYU, in all black, smoking ditch weed from Washington Square Rastas, and arguing which was a better tracking shot Goodfellas or The Player. To be fair, I don’t have The Player yet on blu-ray, nor am I still smoking from the Rastas (it was mostly dirt anyway), but this was like watching God himself in cine-motion. Forgive my gushing, but that tracking shot was worth the price of the blu-ray alone. Details I’ve never seen; jokes I never noticed.

For the love of God, I mean, his father is wearing a patterned wife-beater when he smacks Henry in the beginning for not going to school “IN MONTHS! MONTHS!” I never could see that level of detail before on my tragic massive tube TV.

So, what have I learned from my two new blu-rays? That A) THEY’RE AWESOME! and B) They’re great movies. I can’t believe the level of detail that I was now able to see. It so heightened the tension that for the first time, I winced a little while Billy Batts got his beating to Atlantis. It was so real, it was like I was there. The gore was palpable and terrifying and I was in love again. I hit rock bottom and I was reborn, scarred and shipped off to egg noodle and ketchup obscurity. I, like Dorothy, was always home, and suddenly I could see how fantastic it is.

Dear Tyler and Henry, my heart still belongs to you. Now get into the blu-ray ring. No shirts, no shoes and the first guy to tap out, the fight’s over.