Category: Film Page 6 of 9

A Bad Week For Men In Their 50s In The Film Business, To Be Sure

As you’ve probably guessed, I try to avoid covering things which everyone else is talking about in this blog, mainly because other people tend to make more insightful remarks using far fewer words than I, but:

As you’ve probably heard, the writer-director John Hughes has died, aged 59. Hughes was an amazingly prolific screenwriter, and something you may not have known – because I didn’t until I read the BBC profile linked to above – is that he also wrote more recently under the pseudonym Edmond Dantes. I enjoyed his work less as time went on, but some of his films still hold up pretty darn well, for my money: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Planes, Trains and Automobiles and the slightly-less-well-known She’s Having A Baby are still worth your time. Some of his films were a bit emotional for my tastes, and his later works seemed aimed more at younger or family audiences than me, which is interesting if you’ve ever read his frankly rude writing in National Lampoon magazine, but he was clearly someone who could write for pretty much any audience, and the “You’re so conceited” outburst in The Breakfast Club sums up a lot of how I felt about the so-called popular kids at school.

Less well-reported, but also unwelcome news, is that Blake Snyder has died – like Hughes, of a heart attack, in his 50s. Snyder’s less of a name in the general film audience, but he was a very successful spec screenwriter, and – this is how I know of his work – he wrote a terrific book on screenwriting called Save The Cat! which is a lot more funny and pragmatic than a lot of other ‘paradigm’-based books on this subject. I heartily recommend this book to you – it’s riddled with excellent analyses of how existing films have used the structure Snyder advocates, and ones which didn’t – and it’s a genuine shame that one of the more human-level teachers of writing is gone.

And both of heart attacks, in their 50s? That’s an unpleasant coincidence, at the very least.

The Competition Is Hotting Up…

… to win the coveted prize of Least Necessary Sequel, 2009! Check out these recent releases!


Coming soon: Thelma and Louise 2, and Police Academy 8: Tackleberry – The Early Years!*

*I’m kidding about these. At least, I think I made them up. Lord have mercy on us all if they’re sitting on a development list somewhere.

Swiping From The Thieves, Perhaps?

Those of you who’ve been reading this blog for longer than is recommended under HM Government health guidelines may vaguely recall this post, in which I (rather clumsily, now I re-read it) suggested that the scams of the TV Series Hustle appeared to extend to the meta-theft of the tagline from the film Bowfinger.

Well now, take a look at this film poster which I saw repeatedly whilst in India last week:

From the USA to the UK and now on to India, this phrase seems to be making its way round the globe in an easterly direction … if you spot a version of it from Japan, do let me know.

You May Find The Image Accompanying This Post Offensive… Or Deeply Erotic. Or Both.

I wasn’t a fan of his Ali G character (mainly because it seemed to end up being the item it seemed intended to parody), but Borat made me admire Sacha Baron Cohen for his sheer willingness to make himself look stupid or just awkward for the sake of a joke. Which is something I always admire.

But I’ve just found out that in his latest film Bruno, he taunts members of the Westboro Baptist Church.

Oh, Mr Baron Cohen, assuming you’re on some kind of points, you will be receiving some of my money soon. I say bravo.

Even Better Than Christopher Cross Or Edward Woodward

I think this chap has one of the best names I’ve ever seen.

Whaddaya mean, I’m easily pleased? Tch, you’re harsh sometimes.

Oh, And It Features Music From Black Lace. I Kid You Not.

I know that the TV excitement in the last week has mainly focussed on Torchwood, but I haven’t seen that yet (planning to watch it all in one big chunk), so I can’t comment.

However, one TV show in the past few days which I found rather exciting was the fourth episode of Psychoville, written by and starring two of the League of Gentlemen, and lo and behold this episode features a guest appearance by the other onscreen member (so, not Jeremy Dyson).

If you’ve ever seen the Hitchcock film Rope and marvelled at the long sequences between cuts, then this episode will impress you in the same way; from what I could see, there’s only one cut, at about the 20 minute slot, which is something you really don’t see very often in TV. The episode is very much like Rope in structure and content too, and is quite clearly a homage – in the proper sense of that word, not the cut-and-paste-swipe sense all too often used nowadays. That said, I reckon you could probably watch this episode without having watched those before it.

But John, you may be asking, how can I watch it now? The wonders of the BBC iPlayer, I say in reply, and point you to this link, which should enable you to watch the episode on your computer. Wonderful what they can do nowadays.

I have to say, I think Psychoville is a very solid show so far – the central mystery of it is unravelling well, and the cast of characters are suitably horrifying and/or funny (often both at once). Worth looking at the whole series so far if you’re not already following it, I’d say.

On Showgirls, And Marcus Aurelius, And How They Are Connected

I referred to the Monty Python Spanish Inquisition Sketch the other day (in this post), and that led me to think about its appearance in the film Sliding Doors. Hey, that’s how my mind works.

For those of you who haven’t seen this film (and I’ve only seen it once, at the time of its cinema release), John Hannah recites lines from the Spanish Inquisition sketch to a table of hysterically impressed friends, including Gwyneth Paltrow – in fact, his Python performance kind of forms part of his wooing of her character in the film. The people around the table are laughing a lot at this bit in the film, including women, which didn’t ring true for me, as I was the kind of spotty indoorsy teenager who’d learn Monty Python sketches off by heart, and as much as women like a laugh and like comedy, very few of them are particularly keen to hear you recite other people’s comedy material. Especially a sketch as reliant on visual aspects and incidental music as that one.

Anyway, as an aspect of the film in which we’re supposed to think Hannah’s character’s funny or likeable, it didn’t work for me. In a similar way, I once found myself watching Showgirls to see if it was as bad as it was said to be (it was), and about twenty minutes in (I think – it was just before the first ad break, and I switched it off then) there was a big song and dance number. The main character, played by Elizabeth Berkeley, watches this show on stage, and is utterly captivated by it. I, on the other hand, thought it was a pretty risible sequence featuring semi-naked people cavorting amidst model volcanoes.

I turned off the TV at this point, as it seemed pretty clear that the main character was going to be inspired to want to do this kind of dancing, and I would find myself laughing at it, and that would just be mean. Well, if I’m honest, I wouldn’t have minded a laugh, but as I was sharing a house at the time, I didn’t want anyone to come into the lounge and think I was watching it for the nipples instead of the giggles.

Hmm, those last three paragraphs make it sound as if I’m just having a go at other people to make my point (and I do have one), so let me share a similar confession about my own writing; some years ago, I wrote a novel (unpublished, and with hindsight that’s probably fair) called Fall From Grace. It was essentially a re-telling of the fall of Lucifer, set within a modern-day Evangelical Broadcasting Network – members of staff rebel against the existing regime, get kicked out, seek to take revenge, that sort of thing.

However, in order to make the rebels into underdogs, I needed the evangelical TV station to be successful, and try as I might I just couldn’t write the details of the broadcasts in a way that made this seem likely. Mainly because deep down I couldn’t see a way that, in modern-day England, such a venture would have enormous success – and as a result, the story pretty much asked the reader to take it on trust that, no, really, I promise you, it was very popular. Unfortunately, that creates a situation rather like this:

Reader: These religious broadcasts don’t strike me as that awe-inspiring.
Me: Well, they are. Trust me.
Reader: They wouldn’t convert me.
Me: Well, the people in the book are quite taken with them.
Reader: I don’t know why.
Me: Look, they’re really impressed. Take my word for it.
Reader: I suppose I have to, for the story to make sense.
Me: Yes, you do.
Reader: Hmph.

It doesn’t really matter if a story contains a minor element that doesn’t quite ring true, but if it’s a plot element or a catalyst or a personality trait which actually affects the direction of the story, there’s a more fundamental problem; like watching one of those fight scenes in films where the cuts are just so insanely fast that you can’t tell what’s going on until one person’s left standing and the others are on the ground, you end up just having to accept that it’s happened, even if you don’t know how or why, but of course it introduces a seed of disbelief into your mind, and much of the time stories require that disbelief, like the Brooklyn Bridge, to be well and truly suspended.

Otherwise, you end up just having to take other characters’ word for it; John Hannah’s character is funny, the show in Showgirls really is impressive, and in my personal example, millions of people do tune in every week to watch a religious TV show… and if you don’t believe what the story wants you to believe, or feel the reaction that you’re apparently expected to feel, you’ll be jerked right out of the experience of the story, and that’s never a good thing.

Looking at how this should be done, I watched the first episode of The West Wing again yesterday, and – possible spoilers ahoy – we don’t get to meet the President himself until very near the end of the episode. Instead of the viewer being told for the best part of an hour that he’s quick-witted, supportive of his staff, and articulate, we’re shown it – President Bartlet demonstrates this in a couple of minutes, and at the end of the scene (indeed the episode) you can see why his staff are so loyal to him. That, as Mr Punch would say, is the way to do it.

The Roman Emperor and philosopher Marcus Aurelius once said “Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one”, and I think the same applies to aspects of plot or character as detailed above. Is a character meant to be funny? Show them being funny, not other people telling them they’re funny. Is something in a story meant to be amazing or startling, and send people’s lives in a new direction? Then the story needs to show it being amazing or startling.

In his (very good) screenwriting book Save The Cat, Blake Snyder stresses the importance of making the reader/viewer care about the main character as early as possible by having them do something funny, likable or heroic in the early scenes – by having them, as it were, ‘save the cat’ on page one, and I think he’s spot-on about this.

As is so often the case, I won’t pretend that I’m making a devastating insight about a requirement of writing here; however, I was quite pleased when all the above churned around inside my head, and I finally realised that all of the examples which sprang to my mind all point to one fundamental principle of writing: Show, Don’t Tell.

Harrison Ford Appeared In The Episode Mystery Of The Blues, Though Those Bookends Weren’t Cut (Not Entirely Surprisingly)

As it was – notionally – Henry Jones Junior’s 110th Birthday yesterday, and following a recent re-watch of Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade, I thought I’d just mention a recentish Lucasfilm re-edit of existing material – less glaring than Greedo shooting first, granted, but still rather strange, to my mind.

The 1992-1996 TV series The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles wasn’t a wildly popular show – probably, I suspect, because it often came over as an uncomfortable mix of entertainment and historical fact; the young Jones meets a lot of historical figures (Lawrence of Arabia, Hemingway, Picasso and so on), and if you don’t know who they are or know their historical significance, it’s kind of reduced as a show.

Anyway, it was shown in various slots on UK TV, and I rather liked it, partly because episodes were often bookended by ‘present day’ (that is, early 1990s) encounters between people and an aged Indiana Jones, played by George Hall. As you can see from the picture accompanying this post, Jones in his 90s appeared to have lost an eye, which of course leads to the question of how, suggesting a story yet to be told.

And yet, rather inexplicably, Lucasfilm (presumably with the blessing of George Lucas – also pictured, he’s the one without the fedora) have edited out the ‘Old Indy’ aspects of the show for the DVD release. It’s not fatal to the story by any stretch of the imagination, though I rather liked the suggestive nature of the missing eye and facial scar (even as it does remove the suspense of the films, as we know that Jones will survive to a ripe old age), but it does strike me as rather symptomatic of a tendency to tinker which Lucas (and his pal Mr Spielberg) seems unable to resist.

Ultimately, the films etc are Lucas’s baby, and so I think that one has to concede that if he wants to add or delete stuff, then he’s free to do so; the usual excuse given is that it takes it closer to the original vision, though I must admit that if I was responsible for some of the most well-loved films of the last 50 years or so, I’d probably tend to leave well enough alone – however I suspect it’s the fate of creative types to only be able to see the flaws in their work, whilst if it finds an audience, they will probably focus on the merits.

I’m increasingly feeling that there is a tacit agreement between creators and their audience, though most of my feelings about this boil down to simple commandments (thou shalt not deus ex machina, thou shall know where thy story is going, that kind of thing) than to the exact nature of ‘entitlement’ within the relationship; as Neil Gaiman recently pointed out, the creator “is not your bitch”, and in the final analysis I suppose it’d best just to pretend there isn’t a new film or book or revamped version of the old one if you don’t like it. I know that’s easier said than done, and sometimes it’s bewildering how a creator themselves seems to lose sight of the aspects of their work which resonate with the audience, and indeed which made them popular (examples which spring readily to my mind would be the novel Hannibal, and Jewel’s album 0304). But – as Gaiman again points out – we’re talking about other human beings here, and they’re as prone to making errors of judgment as you and I.

It may be the sunshine outside, or the fact I have a cup of tea to hand, which is making me less snarly about this subject than usual; on the other hand, it may well be the fact that the excised Young Indiana Jones material has been lovingly compiled by some kind folks and placed on youtube in chunks such as this, and by sticking the letters ‘pwn’ before the web address, it’s possible to download the footage.

Um, you do know about that ‘pwn’ trick, right? If not, then I hope that me imparting that to you has made it feel like it was worth wading through the above rambling nonsense…

William Akers Is In London To Help You Spot Mistakes In Your Writing

I got an e-mail the other day from a chap called William Akers, asking if I’d mention his forthcoming talk on the blog. Given that Will’s a writer with actual produced films to his credit, PLUS the fact that he worked on Eerie, Indiana and Lois and Clark (two TV programmes I like), it would have been churlish to say no. And whilst I’m frequently childish, I like to think I’m not churlish. Well, if I can avoid it. anyway.

So: Will’s talk is called Fatal Errors New (and experienced!) Writers Make! and it’s being held at Met Film School (Ealing Studios, Ealing Green, London W5 5EP) on Thursday 2nd July between 6:30 and 8:30 p.m. Entry costs a mere £15, which you can pay on the door, though you need to book ahead of time by e-mailing beka[at]metfilm.co.uk. Let’s face it, you could easily spend that on a round of drinks (or a couple of coffees at London prices), so it’s quite the bargain.

You can find full details of the session here. Definitely worth going along if you can make it, I’d say (I’m already booked that night for a family event – pah).

Will is also the author of the attention-grabbingly-titled Your Screenplay Sucks!, pictured above, which you can read more about here, and buy from the usual places (and some of the more unusual ones too, I’d wager). Will also has a blog, which has solid advice on matters writing-related, such as the following on the idea of selling ‘an idea’ for a film:

Someone who has sold screenplays for lots of money can sell an idea, if they have a famous actor attached. Have you sold screenplays for lots of money? Have you got a famous actor attached?

If the answer to either question is “No,” then shut up already and write your script.

With that in mind, I’ll shut up and get back to writing. Hope that you can make it to the talk, though, it sounds like it’ll be useful – if you do, be sure to let me know all about it!

It Could Be Another Picture From That Oh-So-Controversial Annie Leibowitz Vanity Fair Photo Session, I Guess

This picture is currently being used to promote Miley Cyrus’s concerts in London this December.

However, I can’t help but think it looks more like a still from an episode of CSI.

Presumably Billy Ray Cyrus will manage to snag the role of grieving father, weeping over the perforated autopsy table.

After all, as well as appearing in the recent Hannah Montana film, he has demonstrated his range in other roles.

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