The Awkward Epiphany

And now I know that the time I lost was a gift to the devils of forever.

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So what would you say....you do here?

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Where are the adult movies now? Danny Boyle, a director I don't particularly admire, sums up perfectly how I feel about movies nowadays.

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Why it's so hard to get good feedback on a comedy script

If you haven't listened to the latest Scriptnotes podcast (ep. 84) hosted at johnaugust.com, there's a piece of conversation that takes place between the 25 and 35 minute marks that sheds some good insight into the "funny on page vs funny on screen" dilemma. Even if you don't enjoy their particular brands of humor, co-hosts John August and Craig Mazin know quite a bit about what goes into creating marketable comedy.

In the episode, they express their agreement on how rare it is to laugh while reading a script. Seldom do words on paper elicit the type of response they will ultimately go on to elicit when manifested on screen. In a sense, script jokes aren't even meant to be funny on paper; they're merely ingredients for the director and actors to make something funny happen. This is something I've been thinking about lately while studying all the latest successful comedies as preparation to write my screenplay. 90% of the what has made me laugh on screen these past few weeks would never have seemed nearly as funny to me on paper.

Why is this important to know? If you're a fledgling writer and you show your comedy script to inexperienced readers, you are going to receive a lot of negative feedback along the lines of "Where are the jokes?", "This isn't funny.", etc. It could very well be that you have failed to create a funny script, but you must also consider the possibility that your readers simply lack the imagination and experience to envision how your dialogue will sound coming out the mouth of Paul Rudd, the power of a single facial expression worn by Zach Galifinakis, or how a gag will play out between two masters of physical comedy.

I submit the following rule of thumb: never show your comedy script to someone who doesn't understand the above. Their feedback will only hurt your confidence, serve as a negative reflection of your work, and ultimately lead you astray.

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5 Reasons Office Space Is A Brilliant Comedy

Being the bad teacher that I am, I recently had the great idea of showing Office Space to my small group classes. I have seven small group classes. I have now viewed Office Space more times than I have any other movie, including Lost in Translation, The Big Lebowski, and Amelie. Somewhere between 10 and 14 times. Needless to say, I should be kind of an expert now on why the film is brilliant.

1. Office Space is much more than a vehicle for laughs; there are layers of satire condemning everything from corporatism to modern American culture to the human condition (laziness).

2. Peter Gibbons is an anti-hero disguised as a hero. Peter is portrayed as a good guy and so we think he is the good guy, but we forget that this is a satire. Peter, himself, is a satire. In reality, Peter borders on being the villain of the film. He is lazy, manipulative, and selfish. Yeah his job and his life sucks and he loves to blame others...but in reality he's the only one to blame for the mediocrity of his life. 

3. Everything that culminates later on is set up early on. Everything. There is not one thing that culminates in the 2nd or 3rd act that is not foreshadowed or set up in the 1st act. Go ahead, watch the movie again with a pen and paper. Keep track of every single conversation that is had in the film prior to the inciting incident, and then check off each item when it culminates later on. Not one single word or moment occurs in the first 30 minutes of the film that does not serve a very specific and important purpose. 

4. The sub-story is brilliant in that it is the ultimate set up for the climax and aftermath of the film. The office catching on fire, in any other writer's hands, could have easily been done in such a way that we'd laugh it off as another implausible deus ex machina. But in Office Space, it is absolutely not the deus ex machina it appears to be. Milton literally tells us that he's going to set the building on fire half a dozen times from the very beginning of the film -- though he does it under his breath, so that it's not completely obvious to the first-time viewer. Too often we have lame sub stories (usually concerning the romantic interest) which do not tie in so crucially to the plot. In Office Space, we think that Milton is merely a vehicle for humor until the climax occurs and we realize Mike Judge had been setting us up along.

5. Office Space was produced at the perfect time considering its subject matter (right before the pending Y2K fiasco) and yet it is timeless. Office politics will always be lame, people will always be stupid, and laziness will always hold us back. Although viewers will be able to enjoy this movie for generations to come, there could not have been any better moment for it to have been born than 1999.

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Retired Screenwriting Clichés Part 1

A woman hiding her smoking habit from her family (smoking out the bathroom or bedroom window wearing latex gloves and spraying herself afterwards with perfume).

Character 1 says, "You must get that all the time." Awkward beat. Character 2 says, "Uh...no, actually."

Several characters are talking at a diner. If you look closely you'll notice one of them putting an inordinate amount of sugar into their coffee.

Character A is saying something very important to another character. Only when the camera pans out we realize the other person isn't there. Character A was only preparing their speech.

Man over-apologizes to girl after fucking up. Before he can ramble any longer, the girl tells him to shut up and/or kisses him quiet.

Some criminals are staking out protagonist from their car. They don't know that the protag knows they're there. Protag casually walks over and asks them if they'd like anything to eat/drink.

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Cinematic Coincidences

When you watch as many movies as I do, occasional cinematic coincidences are inevitable. The last two movies I watched (both random choices) starred the actor Campbell Scott (unknown to me prior) in roles wherein he discusses at one or several points the meta-game of picking up chicks. 

Singles (1992)

Roger Dodger (2002)

If this means anything at all it means I need to include a "pick up" scene in the screenplay I'm currently writing. Clearly.

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Before there was Crazy Heart (2009) there was Tender Mercies (1983). Introducing reason #17 to like Robert Duvall: a voice that could make a hound dog sing.

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Meat Parade

George C. Scott was famous for his disinterest in the annual Academy Awards event, calling it a meat parade. And that's really the perfect description for it. The red carpet, the acceptance speeches, the celebrity circlejerking, etc. I tried to watch a few clips of this year's show, but couldn't stomach it. 

Here are some other people who couldn't stomach the ceremony either. Each one has my total respect for not feeling the need to participate in the narcissism of celebrity culture.

Woody Allen (23 lifetime nominations, but has only attended once)

Katharine Hepburn (won 4 leading actress Oscars, didn't accept a single one of them)

Dudley Nichols (refused to accept his 1935 best screenplay Oscar as a direct snub to the academy)

Marlon Brando (didn't show up to collect his 1972 best actor award in protest of the way Native Americans were depicted in Hollywood)

Unfortunately this list is way too short.

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2013 Oscar Picks

I finally got around to watching most of the Oscar nominees, so here are my picks (not predictions) for some of the categories.

Picture: Amour

Actor: Joaquin Phoenix (The Master)

Actress: Emmanuelle Riva (Amour)

Supporting Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman (The Master)

Directing: Michael Haneke (Amour)

Screenplay (Original): Django Unchained

Cinematography: Anna Karenina

Costume Design: Lincoln

Best Song: Before My Time (Chasing Ice)

Best Animated Short: Adam and Dog

Visual Effects: Prometheus

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Schmucks with Underwoods

I became too inspired watching all those great movies, so the February film challenge has been halted. 

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Day 9: The Great Dictator (1940)

Imagine the amount of pressure on Chaplin going into this picture, his first talkie. The fact that he succeeded so emphatically is only a testament to the man's greatness, surely unmatched in film history in terms of iconolatry. For me, Charlie Chaplin is the ultimate film hero, for he possessed not just enormous talent but tremendous soul as well. The speech he gives at the end of The Great Dictator, which I had seen many years before I finally got around to viewing the entire film, must surely be ranked as one of the top ten most poignant moments in cinema history. I can't watch it myself without getting goosebumps, and it will be one of the first classic clips I share with my children as soon as they're old enough to process the message.

This film was more than just a grand conclusion, it was brimming with brilliance from beginning to end. I'm not a fan of physical humor due to the fact that so much of it is obvious and gimmicky. Although there are some obvious gimmicks in this one, there are also many jewels: stunts so clever and well-coordinated I found myself laughing out loud at the type of humor that so rarely earns a rise from me. Some of the best bits include the barber shaving Hannah as they discuss absent-mindedness, the dictator's little solo dance with the globe (bouncing it with his butt up into the air), and the meeting between Hinkel and Napaloni in which they constantly try to outdo each other.

The Great Dictator is another one I refuse to score, simply because it belongs to a different time and different set of standards. Clearly, though, I loved it. 

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Day 8: Fa yeung nin wa (In the Mood for Love)

At a social event comprised of movies as people, I would not have the nerve to approach Kar Wai Wong's In the Mood for Love (2000). I wouldn't be able to make a single move that did not feel like a fumble in the presence of such an elegant and infallible work. There is also the matter of my Cantonese being a little rusty. 

This is a terrible one to watch on your computer with family members moving around in the background (I paused the poor thing about 150 times). I'll have to rewatch it again sometime, alone, in the middle of the night, on a projector. Until then, I don't feel it just to offer my review. 

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Day 7: L'Enfant (2005)

In terms of realism as an aesthetic style, there are three different camps: cinematic realism (Haneke), magical realism (Weerasethakul) and realism realism (the Dardenne brothers). L'Enfant, directed by Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, was filmed as starkly and close to true life as possible. The challenge with such a movie is to create something that is so bare on the surface and yet engaging enough to hold an audience's attention. This is of course done through the merit of the story and its portrayal through the performances of the actors. If the aesthetic is as raw as possible, then the plot and the actors must also be as raw as possible. The slightest hint of artificiality could expose the entire picture as a fraud.

L'Enfant contains no artificialities. I was surprised to look up some of the leads (Jérémie Renier, Déborah François) and see that they were actually trained professionals. They could have easily been genuine riffraffs that the producers had picked up from off the street. I was also surprised to look closely at the baby during scenes where I was sure they were using a doll...and then suddenly his hand moves. 

I can somehow imagine how Chris Nolan makes the kind of movies he makes and I can somehow I imagine how Spielberg makes the kind of movies he makes. What I absolutely cannot grasp is how artists like the Dardenne brothers can make something so true-to-life and captivating. Clearly, it is not something they accomplish by way of millions of dollars, A-list talent, or high concept scripts. It's something that they achieve by way of true talent. In that sense, the most brilliant directors in business today just may be the least assuming. 

For the great story that L'Enfant was, and for its artless execution, I give this one a 9.1/10.

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Day 6: Det sjunde inseglet (The Seventh Seal)

It seems silly to try and appraise such an established work of art; a presumptuous deed equivalent to some little modern day art snob having a stab at the Mona Lisa. At this stage in the history of film, it would be arrogant to do anything beyond simply accepting The Seventh Seal for what it is. This doesn't mean one has to like it, but at the very least one can respect it. For the record, I enjoyed it. 

If you do feel inclined to measure it using some sort of barometer, I suppose you might do so by gauging its strength in eliciting that gut-wrenching feeling one is doused with in confronting "the abyss." If you've ever done acid or suffered from schizophrenia or gone through some type of existential despair or near death experience, then you'll know what I'm referring to. As a person who has dealt with at least one of the aforementioned, Bergman's classic resonated quite intensely with me and I know that many of its images will be forever burned inside my mind (particularly those involving Antonius Block and the Witch). There is of course also the lighter saving grace of the film, represented through the optimistic performer and his family, which struck its own personal chord with me as well.

I won't bother trying to rate this one, but I take no issue in calling it a masterpiece or at least an important work.

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Day 5: A Song, a Dance, a Prairie Oyster

This one was a success for me in that it was one of the few (only?) song and dance movies to have captured my full attention — though to be fair, the S&D bits are quite scattered. As for other failed attempts to access the genre, Moulin Rouge and Chicago of course come to mind, both of which I found to be gaudy, flair-tastic affairs.The routines found in 1972's Cabaret on the other hand were charming and catchy, the highlights of which were always Joel Grey as the Master of Ceremonies (pictured right above). Liza wasn't too bad herself, though if I ever meet a broad like that in real life I'd probably want to smack her.

As for the main storyline, it was a flawed execution in my opinion, but there was no doubt something special there in the relationships between the half-dozen or so players. Some elements did come off a bit phony or over-cutesy, though it's not as if the director had realism in mind. Also I'm not sure how effective the whole Nazis-looming-in-the-outskirts component was. It's clear there was supposed to be a feeling of their grip squeezing tighter and tighter around the centerpiece of the picture (the elysian Kit Kat Club and its carefree patrons) but I never felt the real menace of their presence in the film. Perhaps they were a bit too much on the sidelines, or maybe a lifetime of watching WWII movies has left me desensitized to Nazi evil. Come on guys, you can be more ominous than that!

A 7.4 is a pretty handsome score, and that's what I'm giving this one.

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Bring me the head of Sam Peckinpah...so that I can kiss it.

A lowish-budget 70s Mexi-western that pushes the envelope in terms of gore and kitsch. Not my kind of movie, and yet I liked it. But why?  Sam Peckinpah had one true labor of love in his career, and Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia was it. It might not be the kind of movie I would have made with a couple of million dollars and no studio interference, but it sure was a hell of a premise. The most admirable quality of the script is that it does not go where you think it's going to go, nor does it end where you think it's going to end. The shoot-em-ups and tough guy zingers may not be for me, but the setting, characters, and plot definitely were. 

For a memorable journey, I'll give Bring Me the Head... a 7.3/10.

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Day 3: The Best Film of 2012

Provide Michael Haneke nothing but the bare essentials — a camera, an empty room — and you are already guaranteed a work of art. So it would go without saying that given a capable cast working off of an honest story, therein would lie the makings of a masterpiece. Last year's Amour is that masterpiece -- confirmed, realized, and virtually undisputed among the minority of people today who still have an attention span in tact.

It's a rare phenomenon to observe a filmmaker peak in the twilight of his career. Haneke is perhaps one of only a dozen or so globally recognized directors today who are making films for adults, and his admirers are desperate to see him and his aging contemporaries (Kiarostami, Malick, the Dardenne brothers, et. al.) continue to make movies for years to come. But if this were to be Haneke's last film, certainly there could be no regrets. The same goes for Amour's two leads, Emmanuelle Riva and Jean-Louis Trintignant, whose performances seemed to encapsulate the totality of their combined careers — two lifetimes of learned craft. If the Oscar were something to be concerned about, I would be rooting now for Riva to receive hers.

I don't want to get too detailed in my review of Amour   because I don't feel that I'm totally qualified to do so. There is plenty of praise to sing, but I don't wish to gush here. If there are any criticisms to offer, I would certainly be out of place in expressing them. Haneke is so masterful that if there is something in one of his films you don't enjoy, you're the one who feels at fault. I'll leave it at that.

By my own convoluted criteria (the variables of which I will spare you), I give Amour a 9.5/10.