Delving

A few weeks ago, at the Film Festival, Josh mentioned how he had signed up for Netflix and had been ordering some unique, rarely seen films. I’ve been doing the very same, leading me to write up this post. If he so desires, maybe he can pitch in and mention some of the ones he’s ordered recently. A couple of mine:

The Bad Sleep Well – by Akira Kurosawa

This lethargic film centers on the subject of government corruption and revenge. It also features one of my favorite actors, Toshiro Mifune. Unfortunately, it tends to favor long-winded dialogue scenes and thickly veiled political drama over the kinetic atmosphere of other Kurosawa works. Mifune, for that matter, delivers one of his quietest performances. Yet, I still enjoyed the film, despite its length and sluggish pace.
Basically, the story revolves around the son of a man killed by a corrupt government contractor, and in his quest for revenge, he begins gaslighting the men behind his father’s death. This aspect is fun and at times genuinely chilling. Without divulging any spoilers, I have to credit Kurosawa for handing out one of the most shocking and depressing endings I’ve ever seen. Kurosawa was always a man who believed in the meek hero fighting against an insurmountable foe, but the turn he takes herein is both dark and telling.

Rififi – by Jules Dassin

Having set out to write a heist/crime film, I determined it was in my interests to view the original heist drama. Lauded by generations of filmmakers as being the genesis of the heist formula, Rififi follows a gang of thieves as they set out to rob a jewelry store. Surprisingly, the heist itself is fairly pedestrian (at least, compared to the complex set pieces featured in films like The Italian Job and Oceans 11). All it really involves is breaking into the store from the apartment above, disabling the alarm and cracking the vault. But the eloquent, professional fashion in which it is carried out (through 30 tense minutes of absolute silence) elevates it above any other heist sequence.
Beyond that, the film is actually a stark commentary on blacklisting in Hollywood, which drove Dassin to France where he produced this project. The violent dissolution of the crew and the price each member pays for betraying one another stands as a strong commentary on Dassin’s own troubles and the desperation that draws the film’s lead into the heist also seems to reflect the desperation that drew Dassin to this project.
The film is surprisingly bleak. And yet, the pacing is superb. As the film grew bleaker, my interest only grew.

Next up – Topkapi:

Also directed by Jules Dassin, Topkapi serves as the counterpoint to Rififi. Whereas Rififi was the first heist flick, Topkapi stands as the prototype of the caper film, having been birthed in the colorful 60’s. I’ll chat a little bit more about this one when I watch it. Apparently it’s just as influential as Rififi, leading to the bubbly caper flicks of today, as well as Brian DePalma’s Langley Heist from Mission Impossible.

A post

Hi one and all. I am currently in L.A., but I'm really bored and tired...so I've decided to take this moment to leave a new post (something I haven't done in a while). I've been here for a screenwriting convention. Day in and day out I sit and listen to other writers talk about the business and politics and writing in general. And to be honest, it's all fascinating, important, etc... BUT, the biggest thing I've taken away from all of this is: Just write a good script. So many people are concerned about the studios and what is marketable. That's all silly.

Anyway, that's the most intelligent paragraph I can write at the moment... I'm just going to give you a bunch of tid-bits.

-I hung out with Alex last night. We TRIED to see the Klaxons, but they sold out. It's very hard to get into shows in L.A.
-We had Sangria. It was fruity. I wasn't.
-The next MOC short will be our last short before our feature.
-Previous MOC shorts have been somewhat plot driven...meaning the plot is what directed the story and informed the characters. This time, it will be character driven. The plot will spring forth from the character.
-Beforehand, possible situations considered were a plane crash, a hotel bloodbath (yeah) and a honeytrap. Those were discarded however.
-If you want to know what it will be like, read Franny and Zooey or The Catcher in the Rye. Or both. Sure.
-The first draft of my caper film has been written. It is entitled "Severn Up".
-I am rewriting it as we speak.
-I will post the first act soon.
-It is based on a news story that was happening several months ago.

Time to pack,

-Brock

Lost is Lost

Wow.

Over the weekend I got a terrible virus. Truly terrible, let me tell you. My throat was so scratchy and sore that I felt I had strep. I’m telling you, I didn’t want to take any chances with this crap; I went to the doctor right away. But it turns out it was only a virus: A mild one, by the tone of my doctor’s voice. Felt like swallowing a brick.
I started feeling better yesterday though. Today I actually got around to e-mailing people, taking notes, reading…not quite the usual, but better then the nothing that had been the last few days. Tomorrow I’ll try and get back into my actual routine.
While I’m here, I wanted to talk about one thing and one thing only: Lost. It’s 8:30 as I write this, so Lost will be starting soon. And I’m wondering why the hell I’m even watching it. Man oh man; Rebeckah (Gabe’s wife) is not going to like this post. Don’t let her see it Gabe. Keep her away.
Lost used to be the best show on television. It was mysterious, fast-paced and intriguing. Okay, the first season was mysterious, fast-paced and intriguing. Season two was hit and miss. Season three? Garbage.
Last week they spent an entire episode on two characters they introduced earlier this season, and then killed them. The characters themselves were pointless. The diamonds they stole had no consequence on the overall fate of the survivors. Their storyline was completely separate from the main characters in fact. It was like they existed in a separate universe. It was a waste. What’s worse, the writers knew it was a joke and they continually referenced that in the dialogue and actions of other characters. Why? Good writing is moving the story forward and developing the characters you have in the face of interesting goals and conflicts to the achievement of those goals. Good writing is satisfying, unlike last week’s Lost.
I watched that episode and I thought to myself, “this is something I would write”. All the in-jokes were a blatant attempt at being clever. They were winking to us. Letting us “in” on the joke. Aren’t they clever?
Only one person on the planet can do that right now and get an automatic pass, and that’s Kaufman. I don’t want to see it from Lost, a dramatic series.

Don’t agree with me? Think of it this way:

In season 1 we had powerful moments like Locke walking after the tremendous revelation that he was once paralyzed.

In season 2 we have Damon Lindelof…erm, excuse me – Saywer…asking, “who the hell is Nikki?”

Lame.

Auto

It's safe to say that if I had the means/ability to buy one, our next short film would be centric to one of these. I smell a Bollywood spoof of Taxi Driver. Anyone? Anyone?

New short

For the last few days, I've been trying to get back in the creative swing of things. And man, it's hard. I've been busy working on Wildlifeless, doing the 48-hour competition and writing a feature. I think it's possible that my mind rusted, short film wise. I've been having a hard time coming up with something inspiring. A kid I know told me that the worst writers beachcomb for the next idea...but I don't know any other way to do it. I'm not one of those guys who believes in just waiting for it to come to you. You have to work your brain creatively into waking up. You have to jog it, like a muscle.

Just yesterday, ideas started to come. Here are the working titles of some shorts...one of which may be the next film MOC does (more on this whole thing later):

Snake in the Grass

Hapworth, 101

Junket

And no, I can't tell you what they're about.

-Brock

Lions

Very sad story.

The Greatest Albums of 2006

#1

Mew's

And the Glass Handed Kites

In 2006 hundreds of new albums were released. Gabe and I reviewed 7 of the best, covering legends like Bob Dylan and Thom Yorke, while praising newer groups like TV on the Radio and Gnarls Barkley. But now that Beck, Yorke and the rest are down, one question remains: who is number one?

The answer my friends…is Mew

The finest album of 2006, And the Glass Handed Kites, was actually released in 2005. Yes, Mew handed over their latest work to the European public two years ago! It wasn’t until just last year that the United States saw this release. So, because it dropped in 2006, Gabe and I both decided we’re counting it as part of the roster. Yes, And the Glass Handed Kites, being denied a shot at 2005, gets a payback with 2006.
And yet, it would have totally dominated 2005 just as it has dominated 2006. The album is so tremendous that it would have slid into the number one spot. That’s why it wins easily in 2006. Last year was in many ways a lackluster year for music. Sure, we’ve spent the past several posts praising specific works, but there were only eight albums worthy of recognition. In a dull, tepid year, Mew was a bright spot.
Engineered to sound like a sonic thunderstorm, And the Glass Handed Kites kicks off with some of the harshest guitars and crashing drums you’ll ever hear. Piano keys gently blink in and out like runway lights amid a soundscape of overpowering electric guitars. It is through this rock fog that we hear the feminine voice of Jonas Bjerre, crooning us to shore like a lighthouse in rainy weather.
In creating this massive sound and then aligning it with Bjerre’s crooning, cheesed-out lyrics, Mew manages to do two things:

1) They poise themselves as unbelievable rock gods asking for your very submission…

2) …And make such theatrics completely heart-warming by singing with absolute, wide-eyed earnestness.

Mew only wants to be your personal heroes.

In 2006, there were musicians that dispelled the war in Iraq, questioned their love life and outright told you they didn’t want to be your hero. That’s why, when Bjerre asks on “The Zookeeper’s Boy”, “Are you my lady, are you?” you’ll want to answer, “yes”.
So many artists play themselves down in an attempt at humility, but they never completely achieve it. In fact, it rings hollow. That’s what makes Mew so funny and yet so touching with this album: they’ve found musical humility in the same way Kiss might take to the stage. They outright tell you “we’re going to rock you beyond belief”…and then they do it.
What’s also remarkable about this album is how no single track deserves to be skipped. Each song transitions right into the next, creating one massive song that doesn’t end until the album is over. That in itself qualifies it as the finest album of 2006. Previous albums always had a song or two that didn’t really deserve to be there. On And the Glass Handed Kites, no song is dispensable. You’ve got to listen to the whole album to get the full effect. Not since Failure’s Fantastic Planet has such grandiosity paid off so well.

In 2006, hundreds of albums were released. They all wanted a taste of your wallet. And the Glass Handed Kites only wanted a taste of your awe.

Here’s to you Mew. Cheers.

I want to rock your Danish.
Brock, why no album cover? Is it because it was one of the worst album covers ever?

Mew is a band from Denmark. And the Glass Handed Kites unleashes songs ranging from "rocking your nether regions" to "massaging your jazz ballet love loins."

The instrumental, "Circuitry of the Wolf," opens up the album having you thinking that you're in for a major rock storm. But then it blends into "Chinaberry Tree," although it still rocks along with a thumping bass line, Jonas Bjerre delivers vocals that have you meditating in the higher plane. And before long, you realize you're journeying through a forest of progressive rock. It's a term that gets thrown around, but Mew definitely utilizes elements of Classical and Jazz, rocking songs in the symphonic sense.

"Why Are You Looking Grave?" surprises you with guest vocals from J Mascis of Dinosaur Jr. His vocals provide a very interesting contrast. The story is that the newly reunited Dinosaur Jr. happened to be playing in the city they were recording their album and asked J if he'd lay down some vox. He agreed, much to my delight.

"Apocalypso" blends into "Special," and "Special" into "The Zookeeper's Boy." This makes for a rockasmic trinity. "Special" so happens to be a favorite of Zoe's. She'll even request it at times.

Then there are quiet, whispery, poetic lullabies, that sometimes explode into louder parts, like "A Dark Design."

As Brock mentioned, Mew often has quirky lyrics/titles, like "Saviours of Jazz Ballet (Fear Me, December)," where they begin with the solemn pronouncement "we are the defenders of jazz ballet." Good for them. Perhaps this serves as a reminder to not take them too seriously, as many prog rock bands of the '60s and '70s, came across as pretentious. Yes, maybe? Don't get me wrong, though, I like Yes.

The only gripe I have with this album, is the mix. Most of the album seems to be lacking in the lower spectrum of the frequency band. For example, "The Zookeeper's Boy" was the first song I heard, via a download. When I first played it, I had to check and make sure the bass wasn't turned down. And you get that feeling on a few more songs. More than likely they did this by design, perhaps not wanting thumping bass to drown out higher details, as most people tend to over do it on the bass. But I think it's missing too much and is a distraction. Other than that, it's numero uno.

Do yourself a favor and get some Danish rock. Brock and I plan to catch them in L.A. next month. Can't wait.

The Greatest Albums of 2006

#2 - TV on the Radio's Return to Cookie Mountain

Gabe and I saw TV on the Radio once. They opened for Bloc Party.

They sucked.

Surprise, surprise; this album doesn’t suck. End of review.

Ok, wait…come back. This album is much more then the absence of suck. Simply put, this album very nearly became the number one album of 2006. Why?
In my clearest, most lucid explanation, it created a new sound that was both unique and fetching. TV on the Radio always seemed to be telling us they were the next big music revolution, but this is the first time they actually seemed to be “the next big music revolution.
I mean, come on…crank up “I Was a Lover” as you accelerate onto the freeway and you’ll have all the energy of the sun surging through you. You’ll find yourself pumping your fist in the air. I kid you not. And yet, by no means does this album extract its power solely from hard-hitting rhythm.
Rather, this album is fun and exciting because it genuinely sounds fun and exciting. It’s thoughtful, poppy, crushing and elaborate…but never boring. And maybe it feels so new and meaningful because the band truly seems to be in to their music; amid the thick layers of hissing production they sound like they’re having fun. Hell, they’ve got Bowie with them after all.
I should note that his cameo is understated and by far not the main drawing point of this album. Sure, it’s cool to hear Bowie bouncing along with this group, adding his croon to their buoying musical stream, but don’t let that be your attraction towards purchasing this album.
Let it be the album itself, which urges you along with striking pounds along the keys of a piano as an electric synth rises in the background. Let it be Tunde Adebimpe’s voice as it “ooo’s” you into somber reflection. Let it be track 5…Wolf Like Me, which roars so loud and fast, you’ll think you’re being given a call to action.

Yeah, Gabe and I saw TV on the Radio once. They didn’t suck. The venue sucked.

TV on the Radio!? Is the name a commentary on Radio's lust to entertain for dollars? The lack of quality content? Perhaps. I don't know, I haven't researched it.

I had heard people, and read critic's drooling, and engorged, praising reviews of Return to Cookie Mountain. Alex burned me a copy. I listened and thought..."not bad, but extremely overrated!" I heard nothing more than electro-beats, drumming, keys, fuzzy guitars swirling and soulful singing. Wait a minute, that sounds like winning combinations to me! And TV on the Radio winningly combines them all, after having a few more listens.

There are songs that rock, with dancing, tribal beats. And there are songs that are quite soulful, with chorus-like harmonies. Like Brock mentioned, it is a fun, energetic album. Tunde's vocals are unique in its tone and ranges. It, along with some of the rhythm, conjures up African influences. In fact, if you were to take an African tribal band, blend their sound with modern jazz, rock, and trance, you may very well have TV on the Radio.

I do have to disagree with Brock's statement of "never boring." There are at least a couple songs I do get bored with, as the sound tends to get repetitive and tired, such as "A Method," and "Let the Devil In." And "Tonight" wouldn't be so bad if it were cut down. It becomes a little long-winded at 6:53. If it weren't for that, it may have been my pick for number one.

But the stand-out songs stand tall indeed. Brock's not joking on the inspiring opener "I Was a Lover." It has you yelling to the lyrics, "I was a lover, before this war!" And "Province" is quite groovy with Sir Bowie brooding along. "Playhouses" and "Wolf Like Me" are also great foot-stomping, fist-pumping songs. And if you have the album with bonus tracks, the El-P remix of "Hours" is quite delicious. About as delicious as a mountain made of cookies.

The Greatest Albums of 2006

#3 - Thom Yorke's The Eraser

The assumption that Thom Yorke would one day write a solo album had pervaded his career like a mystical gypsy prophecy. Sure, you could predict any of the other talents in Radiohead where just as likely to produce their own material, free from the towering creativity of their band mates (and indeed some have). But Yorke’s was the solo everyone wanted to hear. It was the solo everyone knew they would hear. Amazingly, it was also the solo you could see coming from a mile away, what with Nigel Godrich’s production, Stanley Donwood’s artwork and its downplayed electronic beats (no surprises, please).
And yet, there is a sense of nakedness that helps this album stand above the expected. Whereas Yorke’s work on Radiohead hides behind a shroud of politik, self-speak and indecipherable singing slash wailing, herein he has taken the chance of letting his lyrics be discernible, of telling us about himself and not just the impending doom (although he does touch quite a bit on that). And while some of the album’s lyrics range from poetic to clunky, one element that is never off its game is Yorke’s vocals. With The Eraser he takes chances that he’d never taken before. He stretches his voice out to places it hasn’t been, creating new sounds and new melodies. That, to me, is the main attraction of this album. I am comforted to feel that my personal rock hero still has abilities that he hasn’t yet revealed.
In fact, this should be comforting to the music scene at large. While Radiohead has dispatched massive sea changes in their career, Yorke has remained predictably the same. His paranoia has never died. His disgust remains unshaken. And that’s the thing: can he do anything new?

Yes, and no.

His vocals are awakening places he’s never been, but his lyrics struggle confront something besides the global dilemma (he has to touch upon the me/you dilemma). Songs like Atoms for Peace and Skip Divided try amiably to convey this, but their power pales in comparison to subjects Yorke is truly fascinated by. He reserves his real passion for Harrowdown Hill.
Being an actual place in Oxfordshire, Harrowdown Hill was the site where Dr. David Kelly’s body was found (Kelly, for the uninitiated, called into question the British Government’s participation in the Invasion of Iraq). Culling upon a spooky atmosphere with a throbbing baseline, Yorke trudges up questions and emotions that are both touching and frightening. While the song does criticize the government, it also has Yorke attempting to empathize with the dead party.

Clearly, this is where his mind rests for most of the album.

Godrich and Donwood follow his lead, with Godrich creating a sparse, yet poppy landscape for Yorke’s voice to play in. Meanwhile, Donwood lays out some of his finest art yet…an encompassing woodcarving of a man trying to hold back the sea and every last drop of hell ready to be unleashed on mankind. One is liable to think that inconsequential figure to be Yorke.

Listen to modern radio after this superlative and you’ll come to the conclusion that it might as well be.

That little spastic man with the crazy eye. Does he hunch into the corner of a dark room, banging his head against the wall, scribbling lyrics while listening to the sound of rain pattering against the window layering over the scratching of rats' claws against the walls? I'm sure myriads of fans have such dark, romantic visions of Yorke's writing process. Perhaps they're accurate. He just may be the Edgar Allan Poe of music.

Upon first listenings I couldn't think of The Eraser as much more than Kid A, minus the rest of the band. The rest of the band's creative input "erased" out. But it's not. Where Radiohead output the equivalent of a novel, Yorke writes the brilliant short story on the side. Is the novel greater than the short story by its size, or weight? Surely not, as a novel can be bloated, belching out the excesses of broken-down waste (not saying that is what Radiohead is).

Sure, The Eraser cannot escape familiarities with Radiohead. After all, Yorke is "the voice" of the band. But this album does not stand below the work of Radiohead, but next to it, at someplace on its own. Boom-clack-booms, electro-sounds and keys flow through the aorta of the album, with sparse, but fitting guitar. There's also some very interesting bass work on some songs by Nigel himself, especially Black Swan and Harrowdown Hill. The latter featuring dark and brooding slap.

Along with Brock, I too noticed Yorke stretching the vocals, most notably on tracks six through eight. In fact they are my favorite tracks to listen to, and I love that they are all in a row. I'm taken aback by Yorke's tortured croon of "I...I can never reach you" on And It Rained All Night. Perhaps he's referring to those who "don't understand Radiohead," which, inevitably means...Yorke.

The Greatest Albums of 2006

#4 - Beck's The Information

The thing about Beck is that he’s innovated so much, its now hard to think of new genres of music for him to mix. Think about it: he’s touched rock, hip-hop, disco, techno, folk, pop, jazz, art-rock and even had a few moments of soul. That being said, he claims his latest album The Information is his take on the hip-hop scene. Yes friends, we’ve finally reached the day where Beck has run out of things to innovate. He’s now pretending to have “discovered” hip-hop.
Career commentaries aside The Information is a great album. But his “newfound” fusion of hip-hop and 60’s/70’s rock isn’t the reason why it’s great. Rather, The Information stands high on this list because of one thing and one thing only.

It’s simply a well-thought out album.

I dare you to listen to The Information, an album Beck has been struggling with since 2003, and not hate his last work Guero. I dare you. For me, it’s suddenly easy to see Guero as filler meant to tide us over until he could work out this hard-edged masterwork. Guero seems like a scattershot, and Guero a death-blow.
According to several accounts, The Information was the first thing Beck and Godrich began working on following the darkly introspective Sea Change. But somewhere down the line, The Information became too painful an album for Beck. It was too daunting. And so, he shelved it in favor of Guero.

A mistake.

Listening to The Information is a revelation in the sense that it is an immediate progression from Sea Change. Whereas Guero felt like a reversion to Beck’s daytime TV, The Information picks up right where Sea Change left off. It is brooding, contemplative, bitter, and oddly enough, hilarious. One masterful development in Beck’s recent work is the darkening of his playful, junk-culture persona. Once cute and nostalgic, Beck’s interest in the realm of all things sub-culture now seems snide and edgy. Each game boy bleep in place of drums is infused with a tone of mockery. Face it, Beck hates you, and he’s using Tetris to explain why. It’s marvelous.
Equally impressive is Godrich’s masterful production. Take note of the title track, The Information, in particular. So many layers of sound hum in and out of dangerous proximity, so much sounds so cold and seems so warm. Clearly, this is the album Godrich wanted to make. An album where Beck is the bad guy, where the production can be ramped up as much as possible and Beck’s tar-pit discontent still sneers right through. It’s the album Beck never wanted to make, but that we all wanted to hear.

In order to get this list out before 2007 is over, I have to write up limited commentary on this album. I couldn't conjure up much to say on this one. That's mostly because I didn't get to listen to it enough. But it was enough to know I liked it. I was a fan of his early work, and my interest tapered off after "Mutations." Interestingly enough, "The Information" feels like a dark blend of "Mutations," or "Sea Change," with "Odelay." And that makes for a tasty blend indeed.

Godrich's presence is apparent on this album. It has wonderful bippity-boom beats, spacey sounds, and dark, brooding guitar work. This album just may have gotten me back into Beck.

The Greatest Albums of 2006

#5 - Gnarls Barkley's St. Elsewhere

Oh dear readers, it is but by the grace of Gabe that this album is listed at number 5.

A short while back, when we were discussing placement for our albums of the year, I hastily put St. Elsewhere at the very bottom of the list, on the merits that it just wasn’t as artistically inclined as the other works. Gabe argued the album’s case however and managed to convince me that it should be higher on the list. I was still a bit hesitant over this decision. And then, in my effort to reconnect with the album before writing this list, I began to see why he fought to have it placed so high.
St. Elsewhere isn’t brimming with artistic merit or credibility, but it is perhaps the one album we’re talking about that actually made cultural waves in 2006.
Created by DJ Danger Mouse and Cee-Lo Green (the duo behind Gnarls Barkley), St. Elsewhere is a hip hop revelation in a year where faces like Kanye West and Common are absent. Driven by the eclectic sound of throbbing baseline and car-crash drums, St. Elsewhere is the closest thing 2006’s music got to fun for me.
Part of this can be attributed to the album’s hip hop revisionist sound, (present in smart tracks like “Crazy” and “Just a Thought”). These songs, which ruled the airwaves this year, seem fueled by true honesty, emotion and a unique perspective on the musical and cultural landscape (despite confusing, pointless lyrics that suggest otherwise). And in the album’s finer moments, St. Elsewhere ceased to feel like DJ Danger Mouse’s latest grab for a scene and more like an honest musical statement.
While this may be the result of Cee-Lo’s tremendous presence, the honest effort on the part of both musicians to create a work that elevates itself above a joke is intelligent.
I might also add in a quick aside that Cee-Lo establishes himself as front man of the year with this work. His buoyant charisma gave resonance to St. Elsewhere and made this album relevant. Danger Mouse’s production will always be praised in reference to this album, but the voice of Cee-Lo is what made such high-production human.

That being said, it is but by the grace of Gabe…and the accomplishment of Gnarls Barkley that you get number 5.

"By the grace of Gabe!" Oh man, that is hilarious.
The end result of teaming Cee-Lo Green and DJ Danger Mouse is reason alone to rank this album high. Not many people knew of Cee-Lo and Mouse in 2005. More Mouse than Cee-Lo, as the DJ had quite a bit of notoriety mixing Jay-Z's "Black Album" with the Beatle's "White Album," resulting in, of course, the "Grey Album." But put them together as Gnarls Barkley in 2006, and Bam! They're hitting the airwaves, bringing hip-hop/r&b delight to the homes of the radio/MTV-limited, young generation. And with that, hopefully it sparked a dead synapse or two, that will motivate them to expand their field of music.
I agree with Brock, in that Cee-Lo is the highlight of the duo on St. Elsewhere. He's unique for an R&B singer, in voice and personality. He has the charisma of James Brown and a great vocal range.
Songs on the album delve back-and-forth, and mix together hip-hop, R&B, and dance. It's a lively album that, although didn't make any major breakthroughs, was a breath of fresh air on the radio.

The Greatest Albums of 2006

#6 - Asobi Seksu's Citrus

Occasionally, I wonder how someone would overcome suffocation in a looming megalopolis like New York City or Shanghai. Millions of people teem everywhere, like bugs in a bathroom. What’s more, with the metallic surfaces and grimy cold pavement around you, I would think city dwellers get the overwhelming sense that they just don’t matter. How else can you define self-importance in such a daunting atmosphere?
I found my answer amid the crushing, crunching guitars of Asobi Seksu’s oddly feather-light “Citrus”, the 6th record on our Best of 2006 list.
Headed by Yuki Chikudate, Asobi Seksu manages to deliver the first real album on our list. While both Owen and Dylan are notable entries in this year’s music scene, Citrus is the first album that leaves the listener with a distinct “residue”. A literal wave of sound, Citrus pulses underneath with a sense of rhythm. It has a heart.
Upon listening to and discovering that heart, our heartless world seems endowed with an ethereal quality. Yes, one’s day-to-day routine, so insignificant before, takes on a sense of epic import. It is this empowering, feel-good nature that elevates Citrus beyond a typical Shoegazer enterprise.
Tautly structured around a number of pop-songs and a pair of 5 and 7 minute epics, Citrus seems driven forward with a purpose. That purpose is anyone’s guess. This in itself might initially be seen as the one true fault of this album: a sense of motion without motivation.
Indeed, Chikudate’s vocals (buried, distorted and occasionally in Japanese) seem to be telling of a man trapped in a car beneath the sea, with only the lighting above to illuminate the murk. The same lyrics could also be about a boy and a girl.
Ultimately, Citrus isn’t about the motive or the purpose that defines the feeling, but rather the feeling itself. It is that sense of immensity that helps Citrus to transcends events. The music instead chooses to speak to the intuitive heart.
Tracks instrumental in this impression include “Thursday”, which beautifully echoes and sparkles across the progressive throbbing of Mitch Spivak’s drums. Elsewhere, “Goodbye” serves as a twangy gasp for air following the crushing might of “Red Sea”. Quite possibly the most singsong of the collection, Goodbye is also the only real distinctive love song. “New Years” is an unleashing of the band’s guitars, full blast…and it hits like a hailstorm of cheetoes.
As a result of these songs and others, the record leaves us with that distinctive residue that is often lost amidst other albums waxing on lost love, found love and everything in between. It is this residue of importance that seems to infuse even a drive across the freeway with some significance.

In an unimpressive life, that is impressive. -Brock

Brock, I meant to make a copy of this CD before I gave it up to you. I may not have liked it enough to keep it, but it was worth a copy for listening. Plus, it only leaves me with my faint memory as reference for review.

I was immediately taken aback when I first listened to Thursday, which I had downloaded. Often labeled "dream pop," it is clear to hear why. Guitars glimmer and grind with reverb, back and forth, over pop-coated rhythms and "new wave" bass. Top that off with Yuki's dreamy, high-pitched vocals.
From the song "Thursday" alone, I was eager to see them live, when I learned they would be playing in town. They did not disappoint. Many songs had crunching guitars and powerful drumming, tapered off with Yuki's keyboards and vocals. The only drawback I experienced, was that Yuki's vocals were sometimes a distraction, reaching high-pitch levels that seriously gave me imagery of a female chipmunk. However, their live performance was so impressive, I was drawn to purchase their album after the show. I discovered Yuki's vocals weren't so grating on record.
Though I appreciated the album overall, I couldn't really get it to envelop me. I had purchased a couple other albums at the time, and couldn't take myself away much from one of them. That may have pulled my needed attention away.
Brock, I'll need to get a copy. -Gabe

MP3: Asobi Seksu - Thursday

The Greatest Albums of 2006

#7 - Owen's At Home With Owen

Delicate finger-picking, soft strums, and wispy vocals that can crescendo into off-key crooning. His soft, low-key music will throw the listener off-guard when noting the sometimes brash lyrics. The first track, Bad News, starts the album off:
you're a has-been
that never was
I know it's mean to say
but it's something I've been meaning to say to you
for a while
So is the style of Mike Kinsella, formerly of emo-punk darlings Cap'n Jazz, and sorely missed American Football.
His previous albums differ only slightly in musicality from each other. On his fourth album, however, he adds a splash of strings and piano. It's a nice touch, but he ultimately sticks to his original formula. That's a plus for me. There's no sense in changing a good thing.
A standout on the album is his cover of Lou Reed's "Femme Fatale." For one, I believe it's his first cover. Secondly, he makes this rendetion all his own. Overall, another good effort from Owen. -Gabe

The more I listen to this album, the less it feels like an album. Instead, Owen’s “At Home” comes across as a subtle afterthought. That may sound like the king of all backhanded complements, but in not grandstanding, not making tremendous footprints in the musical landscape, Mike Kinsella has found his primary virtue: remaining a source of musical beauty.
This album is beautiful.
Each and every track is utterly mesmerizing, a work better devoted to long afternoons spent above a snowy landscape with the one you love. Or, conversely, it will be used as the bitter cry of one who has nothing to love, save for the melodies being picked at herein. Whatever the case, Owen has unleashed the perfect album for an overcast day. Some albums are good enough that they can transcend season, time and remain relevant for whatever period one’s life is in. That is not the case with this album. “At Home” feels as if its power will fade the moment winter passes away. Maybe that’s not the case; maybe it is in fact exactly what the alone need, from hot summer days in empty corridors, to cold winter days at a bus stop. And it just may be short enough to keep such ones from slipping into self-parody.
Sure, you could ask yourself “do we really need another one of ‘those’ albums”? And the answer is probably, “no”. But this album gains some notoriety through the fact that it exists in such short breath. In the blink of an eye, it comes and it goes. It is simple enough and strong enough to stand on its own, and yet it leaves so much unsaid, unexplored. And I’d like to think for good reason: it isn’t about what you show, about what you sing, but rather about what you don’t. At Home With Owen is about 8 tracks of remorse, regret, longing and hope. These days, such a record ought to be banished for speaking about such things in the same breath as the plucking of an acoustic guitar. As it is, the album seems short, sweet, and right at home. -Brock

MP3: Owen - Bad News

The Greatest Albums of 2006

#8 - Bob Dylan's Modern Times

The reason why I’ve got Bob Dylan’s Modern Times on the Greatest Albums of 2006 is quite simple: Taut control. Never is this quality more clear than in the opening track, Thunder on the Mountain, which begins in a state of absolute confusion; instruments swell and clatter over one another, strings seem to breathe in and out, the song is simply existing. And then, Dylan’s mastery kicks in and suddenly a rhythm is found. The song begins to move forward. He explodes with energy. In those first few notes, the virtue of Modern Times becomes abundantly clear.
Modern Times never struck me as an effort to forward the craft of songwriting, nor did it strike me as an effort on Dylan’s part to live up to the unimaginable legend he has become. Rather, the album seems to exist solely as an exercise in sheer songwriting capability. A presentation of what has already been developed, it is a nicely written letter to us, his listeners, in which Dylan muses somewhat conflictingly on the value of legend. That is what resonated with me so deeply on this album: his outright contempt at the idea of proving himself all over again. And yet, he also seems brimming with the energy to do so.
Just reason on the lead track, in which he jeers at us, “I’ll say this, I don’t give a damn about your dreams”. He continues later with, “I’ve already confessed, no need to confess again”. He might as well be telling us to get lost. But the counter-balance to this venomous lyricism of course comes in the form of the melody itself, seemingly a straight rip off of “Johnny B Goode”.
Yes, to me Dylan is praising and cursing the past all in the same breath. He’s borrowing it, reinventing it for the standards of today. Maybe Modern Times exists as a continuation of great songwriting long past, and maybe it simply exists as a way for him to tell us to forget what’s come before. Maybe neither.
Modern Times gets it right because it’s deliciously crafted. It isn’t edgy, and it certainly isn’t unexpected. You can see each track coming from a mile away. Spirit on the Water utterly echoes long before Thunder on the Mountain is over. And by the time he gets to Nettie Moore (a fantastic track I must say), Dylan’s ode to the old masters, using the very songs they created, is clear. But it’s all in good form. It’s circular. It’s comforting. It is a collection of well-written songs that you could almost swear you’ve heard in one form or another. But, no matter. You could look for themes in Modern Times until the end of time. But the subtle power and grace of its songs is all that makes this album a worthy contender. This is sinewy songwriting at its finest. And it damn well knows it. -Brock

Brock and I didn't have the luxury of owning every decent album that came out in 2006 to review. And good thing! Who has that kind of time, but a well-staffed zine, be it in glossy paper, or a website? In fact, the eight albums reviewed, are a combination of both our 2006 catalogs. Pitiful, but it's what we have, and it's what you get.
Brock gave me a CD-R that was supposed to have Dylan's Modern Times burned on it. However, it did not. I forgive you Brock. It may have cost Dylan some spots on the list, not sure. -Gabe

Albums of 06

Gabe and I are definately going to post our favorite album of 2006. He's "lending" me the records I don't have for this year and vice versa. We'll both narrow down the selection from about 12 albums or so to one single great album. Should be fun!

Bond...James Bond...

Review: Casino Royale

Since the moment he wryly asked for a martini, shaken and not stirred, James Bond cemented himself as an icon of filmic history. True, he hasn’t exactly been the cinema’s most original icon, but he has remained an icon. Once Bond’s torch moved beyond Connery however, his repetitious nature and slant towards action fare dissolved from charming into pointless. By the time Bronson picked up the character he was nothing more then a bag of clichés that had long since lost their spike.
With Casino Royale, the 21st installment in the Bond franchise, director Martin Campbell and his writing team of Neal Purvis, Paul Haggis and Robert Wade attempt, not to reinvent the legendary secret agent, but rather to return meaning to this legend. Having long been outpaced by other film heroes, Bond is given a chance to reclaim his throne. And with a new face behind the character (Daniel Craig) one asks, “Is the attempt at rejuvenation successful?”

What one should be asking is: Why does Casino Royale work when so many Bond films don’t? Simple; the filmmakers stopped treating the source material as one more unit in a long line of units and started treating the characters, the story and the settings as individual ingredients in a legitimate film. To my enjoyment, this movie doesn’t feel like a faceless Bond film, it feels like a film. It has its own nooks and crannies, its own voice. And the filmmakers all have so many ideas invested in it. The screenwriters have genuinely poured their hearts into each act of the story. The actors have created tremendously huge characters without the aide of what’s already been established. The cinematography is beautiful. By my count, it’s the first Bond film where the filmmakers sat down and thought the damned movie out. Beat for beat.
The result? Casino Royale is genuinely entertaining and enthralling. For that matter, Daniel Craig has created a Bond that isn’t just a quagmire of innuendo and gadgetry; he has created a Bond that is oafish and cast asunder by his own hubris, yet also blessed by his own cockiness. He created a thug. And more exciting then that, this is the first Bond film where its namesake truly gets beaten up. Not just by the villains, but by his superiors. He’s good, but not great. He’s witty, but not outright irresistible. He’s inadequate.
And his foes? They are good…damned good. They’re not just a group of pointless masterminds bent on ruling the world; they’re individuals dealing with their own set of pressures just as Bond is, and they possess skills that equal or surpass Bond’s own. Take Mads Mikkelson as Le Chiffre; he bleeds out his eyes when he’s stressed, looks like a throw-back to Connery-era villainy, and periodically sucks on an asthma inhaler. But at the card table, he schools Bond. Le Chiffre is a unique character and thankfully not just some guy pieced together because (doh) the film needed an antagonist. In summation, his poker-skills and overall influence upon the dramatic premise of the film aptly illustrates why this film works so well: everything is connected. Very little in this film is random or tossed into the mix just for extra bang. To quote Sunny Day Real Estate, “everything and everyone, and in the end we all are one”. This completeness, this sense of a unified whole helps advance Casino Royale into a realm of entertainment that even puts J. J. Abrams’ own Mission Impossible III on shaky ground.
Of course, the film does have its faults. Namely, it is extraordinarily long. But, its so thoroughly enthralling, so welcomed that such faults are easily overlooked.

The downside to this new approach to the Bond franchise is apparent however. Never again can they rightfully go back to the humdrum they poured out before. Having watched this Bond film, it will never be acceptable for the film’s producers and star to churn out mediocre and claim “sorry, we did our best”.

So many will respond, “oh, that’s not true”.

Coming Out of Lurkness

By now you've come to expect major droughts between my posts. So, what's noteworthy as of late? Not much in the way of movies. Not that there hasn't been any good ones (that may be the case), but I haven't had the opportunities to see much. However, I have come across some really good music.



Mew. Although deservingly making Pitchfork's Top 25 Worst Album Covers of 2006, I was immediately blown away by their song, The Zookeeper's Boy, upon first listen. It's so "over-the-top" prog rock, that it's cool. Brock will have to tell us more about them, as he's purchased the album. I need to get my hands on that!



Owen. New album. Good Stuff.




My Brightest Diamond. Opera trained voice, rockin', cute. What more do you want!? A song? Fine.

Farewell Scottsdale Community College

A new unspoken high school ritual is for some jock to play the Green Day song Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) on a warm acoustic at graduation. It’s cute. Preppy girls cry. In fact, nearly every student who valued those pointless four years cried. Part of me wonders if I’m disconnected from human experience on the whole, because at my graduation ceremony I did not cry. I guess I couldn’t feel what they felt.

But I swear to you, had some jock jumped in front of that dinky little TCM 245 classroom tonight (the very same classroom where I had my first production class at SCC), I would have gotten teary.

Yes, this evening, the venture known in my life as Scottsdale Community College came to an end.

Why would I have never even cried at High School, but considered it at SCC? Simply put, I had a role in what happened at this film school on the fringe of an Indian Reservation. I wasn’t a legend (far from it) but I was a character in the drama that unfolded around this hidden nook of campus. That in itself is of incalculable value.

Some consider my occupation at this school to be for the worse. I’ve been told that I’ve wasted my time. Do I consider my tenure at SCC to be of a negative impact? Not in the slightest; one thing I’ve learned this semester is that the finest individuals in the business are shaped by the experiences they’ve had in life. And yes, bad experiences are included in that. The worst filmmakers? They are the ones who instead create their own silent, white void. They mute.
With that in mind, being at SCC hasn’t strictly been a series of bad experiences, and it hasn’t strictly been a series of good experiences (lord no). It’s been both. But the most empowering experiences for the creative mind are those which reek of both the disquieting and the rosy. Both are illumination, but of a different breed. When I walked out of SCC tonight, I wasn’t just some kid who had participated in that community for the past two years. I shaped it. We built a tent in the school’s studios, loaded film in those studios. I bled in those studios! I saw a plethora of boys and girls peak and recede through my tenure…co-conspirators like Chad Einwalter who gave way to confidents like Drew Hoffman. I started school in the same classroom and ended it in the same classroom, but watched those sitting around me change in between. These people, these experiences shaped me into the person I am tonight…and from here on out. I learned that I am the main character in a film that only I can watch.

That being said, Green Day’s pop angst wasn’t appropriate for what I felt tonight, for the grand summation of my pain-riddled, harrowing adventure. As I strode out of that school, past the studios, past the dinky classroom, I played Psychocandy’s “Just Like Honey”.

Next time you’re wandering around SCC at night, dear reader, play that song and take a stroll down the walkway wedged between the LC and AP buildings. You won’t feel good. You won’t feel bad. You’ll feel what Brock H. Brown felt.

What's next???

So, what’s the next screenplay going to be about?

Lord, I honestly don’t know. I have two ideas that I’m teetering between. Now that Documenting Ambler is done, I’m trying my best to determine what I want to write. Where will my mood shift? In all honesty, I have yet to finish Sin of the Opiate. But, I will do that over the Christmas/New Year period, hopefully. That screenplay writes itself (sort of)…it was always just a matter of finding time to write it.

Time, I now have in spades (or will soon have in spades).

Sin of the Opiate, I am sure, will dramatically change my mood and set me up for whatever it is I want to write next. Will I want to write a happy screenplay, complete with Hollywood stylization, or something a bit more serious? Perhaps I’ll even step towards something a tad edgier, less commercial? Whatever it is, I have to get something ready to write by the beginning of the year, because I have to keep going. This is it. This is the testing period. School will be out. If I can’t sustain myself through a steady output of writing, I’ll never have enough ammunition once I get myself past the door. That is, IF I get myself past the door. One obstacle at a time…at a time…

Two ideas – YES! I have two ideas that I am playing around with. One idea is ludicrously grand, could only be filmed by a name director, would be highly commercial, and would require a massive budget. I am of course talking about my Napoleon screenplay. Beyond the grandiosity of the idea, I ask myself – “do I really want to write this again?” Haven’t people come to expect this sort of thing from myself? Doesn’t Sin of the Opiate accomplish what this movie accomplishes, and in much more original terms?

Sure, sure – the central characters and conflicts in both movies are deeply unique. In Opiate, we have a Limehouse clinger-on who has to battle his addiction amidst the backdrop of a larger conflict. In Napoleon…well there’s only one-way you can take it, and that’s ego.

You don’t start at the beginning; you start at the beginning of the end: The Hundred Days. You base the movie around Napoleon’s return to power, when he’s ludicrously mythical to the European populace. The story begins after his exile. England and several other countries are gathered together to discuss just what to do with their corner of the world, now that old Napoleon is gone. Aristocrats plan marriages to unify bonds and bring together countries. And at the head of this return to Royalty is our villain in the story, the Iron Duke himself. Things are going splendidly. The Aristocrats will be in power again. England shall expand her power. Everyone’s pleased.

And then word breaks. Napoleon has returned.

What’s so amazing about this story is that, as Napoleon marched on the capital, tearing down the ambitions of these Aristocrats along the way, the media’s opinion of him shifted. First governed by Royalty, the press sniffed at his return, calling him a traitor and a criminal. By the time he entered the capital to take back his empire, those very same papers were hailing him as their lord and emperor.

The thing that’s also so cool about this story is that Napoleon built an army and took back Europe, NOT through specific actions…


…But through fear of what he could do.

He didn’t raise a finger, just marched. I love that. The guy was at the top of his game and he just returned from exile. Screw the Royalty. The cops fled. Freaking Napoleon was coming to town to settle some business. In a way, it’s kind of like that Mel Gibson movie, Payback, or Kill Bill…only, they still had to prove themselves. At this point, Napoleon had nothing to prove, and rightfully so. Sure, there’s conflict and danger there. Assassins and the like. And, of course, it all ends at Waterloo…

But the question that burns in my mind is “isn’t that exactly what I’d write?”

Where’s the challenge in The Hundred Days? There is no challenge. It’d be fun as hell, but would I stretch my skills? Probably not.

Now, that’s not to say that I’m a genius or that I’d turn out a perfect screenplay. Far from it. I’d still have to rewrite the heck out of it and hone it till it got somewhat snappy. The point is, between discussions on Castro with Josh, research of the British Empire, Wildlifeless and every other historical pursuit, I think I’ve got just about any film NOT set in our modern era down pat.

The second idea is a bit different. Get ready for it…


It’s a caper film. GROANS erupt everywhere. I know, I know. Of all the mundane, a-typical subjects to pick up, why a caper film? Cause, I think it would be a good study in craft. And, beyond that, I do have a couple of ideas on how I want to execute it.

First and foremost, you base the large part of the second act around the caper itself. Not the third act, as is typical in films. William Goldman laid down the formula for the caper film in one of his books, and sure enough, every caper film up to this day has been following it. So, let’s shake it up. Let’s pull an Unforgiven on the caper genre. Let’s utterly reinvent it, while at the same time retaining what makes it so great. And that is, comedy and back and forth banters. It’s the genius of the characters mingling together and succeeding, because of, or in spite of, their differences.

Our caper film will highlight that. We’ll base the second act around the heist. And we’ll play out the heist from every character’s point of view. Yes, every character in the crew will have the chance to be the protagonist for 15-20 minutes of the film. We’ll see THEIR challenges, their individual difficulties. This isn’t a caper film; it’s an episodic mini-series, centric to specific characters at a time, molded together into the arc of a larger narrative. This is Epic. Sprawling. The characters? They will have to be unique. The city of the heist? Forget France. Forget L.A., Italy…London…all that stuff. Let’s go somewhere new. Hyderabad. Moscow. Dubai. Let’s just drop the Versace for one damned minute and let this thing be what it needs to be…color.

And what do they steal? Diamonds? Cash? Art? No. No. No, NO.

They steal none of that. I can’t tell you what they steal. If I write it, and it gets made, then you can know what they steal. They steal something of faaaar greater worth. They, in essence, steal an idea.

Time shall tell which way I go on this…

Hey

Check out what I've been working on homeys...



Ignore the blue lines.

To be reviewed

Hopefully this week...

1. Review of Beck's "The Information"
2. Post and pictures of Flim Flam
3. Review of Stranger Than Fiction
4. Review of Casino Royal
5. Hazy and chaotic post about next screenplay

If possible...

6. Discussion on Conquer Club

It's over.

I just finished Documenting Ambler.

Wow.

It's been...a trip. Sad to see it end. There's always the rewrite of course, but it's time to move on.

1925 - 2006

My goodness

Well...Here we go.

Uh...

What the hell...?

Nothing up my sleeve

The Prestige: Review

Christopher Nolan has never been a director with a gift for creating sympathetic and personable characters. Just examine his filmography; therein you will find a plethora of men devoted largely to a cause and rarely to an emotion. And yet, he has never strived to create a character that resonates with the audience. Rather, he has taken a different road and created films in which the characters reflect facets of the main theme.
As a result, The Prestige is a terrible character film. Heartless to the core, this is a film that will leave you hard pressed to find a sympathetic face or a single touch of humility. It is absolutely horrid.

That being said, it is also one of the best films of the year.

I call it one of the best films of the year because it is able to elevate itself above its own flaws (which are many) and create a work of sheer cinema mathematics. Set in turn of the century England, The Prestige is the story of two stage magicians (Bale and Jackman) who engage in a heated and long-running rivalry with one another. Throughout this rivalry, both create astounding tricks and woo the company of various women. At the core of the film, they are always trying to one-up the other.
Against this backdrop, we are presented with two characters that play against the idea of heroism or empathy. Both Jackman’s Angier and Bale’s Borden engage in acts of anger, revenge and sheer violence. And no, this isn’t good-natured competition…blood is shed. As a result, one finds it hard to sympathize with either protagonist. Indeed, the film has no real villain…and no real hero. Instead, it has an idea, which it propels with the violence these two men inflict upon one another.
For some, this will undoubtedly be a turn off. But where the film finds success is not in its charismatic characters…or its virtuosity, but in its overall impression. This film isn’t presenting catharsis; it’s presenting an idea. That idea is furthered by every element in the film…from the birds killed throughout the story to the open field of top hats seen in the first frame. Everything in this film, the setup, the payoff, the foreshadowing, the visual themes and the film’s larger rivalry between scientists Tesla and Edison, all illuminate its message in different ways. When the last frame flickers across the screen you are left with a feeling of discomfort. There is no great kiss, no award ceremony. Just an unmistakable impression. Of what shouldn’t happen…but has. And the fact that the film uses all of the resources of a screenplay towards the gradual gestation of this impression makes The Prestige as powerful as a short story. Yes, it is a whole, a gestalt.
And yes, I am one of the first ones who will tell you that character is everything. But story is structure. And this film is an exercise in structure…complete with chaotic, jumbled editing (the magnificent bastards cut the entire film out of order) and a three-act model within the three-act film, guiding the narrative development.

Performance wise, Bale and Jackman are both sturdy. We’re not looking at anything remarkable here, but they do manage to keep the film going. Johansson gives one of the blandest performances of the year (although to be fair, her character was poorly written) and Michael Cain is Michael Cain. The real standout of the film is David Bowie as Nikola Tesla, the infamous scientist. His performance is guided by a calculated coolness. Who else but Bowie could take one of the oddest figures in scientific history and make him a complete badass?

If you go and see the Prestige, see it expecting a test in structure. This isn’t a character study; it is an attempt to see what can be done with thematic structure and how resolutely it can speak its message.

As it turns out, quite loudly.

DA

So I lied and never provided you with anything...or did I?

Spinach?

Prepare yourself for a major announcement:

"Spinach is used toilet paper! It’s used toilet paper!"

Thank you.

Brock was worried about his lack of posts, yet, where have I been? More importantly, has anyone noticed? If no one has noticed, is it really that important? ;-)

One of the weeks among my long absence, I was in New York. Good times were had all around. How could you not have good times in New York? How could you not have the New York Times? Well, I didn't.

My last post - August 14th. Wow, almost two months. Was I in a coma? No, school started, and being that I work for the fastest growing school district in Arizona, I was quite busy. It's finally at a steady pace. Thank goodness. Perhaps I'll be around more. Brock's been feeling neglected.

Why spinach? Why not? Do yourself a favor, avoid E. Coli salads.

Congrats!

Hey, I just wanted to post a congrats to the folks behind Outisde In for its recent success at the Horror and Sci-Fi Film Festival. Thanks for helping me to create a creepy and unsettling film. I'm going to be honest...I've made far better films since Outside In, but no film (save for maybe Wildlifeless) truly feels like a film I would do. Outside In does. As far as I know, it isn't riffing off of anyone else's style. It's something we made happen on our own. So hurrah.

-Brock

Lost, Season 3

Let’s chat a little bit about Lost for a moment here, and the reason why I am terribly worried about this season (and the series as a whole).

First of all, the series premier was awesome. It was beautifully directed, shot and edited. The visuals were amazing. The tone was unbelieveable. We learned more about those characters in the first 20 minutes then we learn about casual acquatances over a lifetime.

The second season’s premier took place on a much smaller scale. There were no exploding airplanes, no monsters in the jungle, no tremendous special effects. Most of it was shot in dark, brooding atmosphere. But sometimes I consider it to be far more effective then the pilot. Why? Because it rewarded viewers. People wanted to know just what the heck was inside that hatch…and right within the first 5 minutes, the episode revealed that. It answered questions. Sure, it raised more questions, but it answered the main question that was put forth by the previous season.

The season premier last night? I am so luke warm over it. So luke warm. Did it answer any questions? Not really. We already knew that “The Others” were supposedly far more sophisticated than what they let on. We knew that Henry Gale was their leader. We knew that they had a connection to Dharma. Did this episode elaborate upon them in any way other then what we already had a fair idea of? Absolutely not.

For that matter, did it enrich the series in any way, shape or form? No. Through Jack’s flashback we learn that he was stubborn and that he had a hard time letting things go. Big deal. The episode in which he tried to save Boone’s life developed that character trait far more sufficiently then this episode did. What a waste.

By the way, the production on this episode was amazing. Talk about great visuals. Worthless storyline.

Consider me severely unimpressed.

Monday bloody monday...

I haven't had a good posting record lately. Monday (the 2nd) I'll post something special though. It'll be a download you can only get on Monday...or something. Hoo boy...

-Brock

Jack Sparrow...meet Winston Skinner

The best part about this film is that when it comes out, Matter of Chance will have beaten Disney to the punch by about two and a half years.

Violated

I tried to get my Production Binder for Pantomiming back from SCC yesterday (because it has some appearance releases I need) only to find out that it was possibly stolen. I gave the binder to the school after the film was done because my teacher asked for it. I guess they passed it out in class as a "teaching example" and some kid pocketed it. Ugh. I had all kinds of storyboards and notes and personal writings during the film's production in that binder. Some kid now has them. I feel so used.

Decompress

Today deserves mention...for the moment, I'm going to decompress. Josh, if you feel the need to post about it, fine by me.

Can't sleep

...gonna blog.

I have some movies I want to review very soon (when the weekend is over). They include: The 5 Obstructions/Lawrence of Arabia/The Illusionist. I think you folks may be surprised with what my views are on these three films. Josh already reviewed The 5 O's quite nicely...but I wanted to review it again (cause this film is tremendous). I also wanted to chat about LOA because I had never seen it. And The Illusionist is new, so it's not like you're just getting a slew of DVD rentals here.

We build the tent set tomorrow for Wildlifeless. So much is going into this one scene. And it's only about a 3rd of the whole film. A ton of work went into the San Diego portion of the film, but it seems like this one portion of the story demands plenty of detail. Basically, there is a sequence in the film when Winston is inside a tent. There's a bunch of props involved, and once again we're using both the jib and the dolly. It's a very plush scene...mis en scene in this one set is crazy.

I'll be back over the weekend or early next week to chat about:
-The shoot
-The films
-What Flim Flam is.

Better

I feel better today (Saturday was the worst day), even though I don't sound like it. This weekend we basically wrap Wildlifeless. That's going to be so nice. I know I'm looking forward to moving on (not that it was a bad experience mind you). Josh and Angie brought back a chair from Bisbee (sp?)...Winston's chair. Because of the era, we just can't use any chair. Has to be a specific chair. And this one is fantastic. But dirty. And old. I don't think we're going to use it again after this production is done, so my options are:

(a) We auction it as an authentic prop on Ebay.
(b) I donate it to SCC as a part of their (non-existant) Phoenix film museum.
(c) We burn it and tape the burning for the eventual MOC documentary (most likely).

We can't show the burn footage to the original owners of the chair though, as I am told they were quite fond of it. We'll simply have to send them the movie and tell them their chair will forever exist in a filmic paradise.

Just the facts

I feel like crap today. And yet, tonight was considerably better then last Thursday. The instructor? He's coo. I get him now. It's all good in the hood. I'm gonna watch Lawrence of Arabia.

A game

I have to write a feature length this semester in school (more to come). In the meantime, here's an un-rewarding and time consuming game to play over the semester: I'll give you my research threads and you can see if you puzzle the story out before I do.

One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
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It's your host...

Yes. THIS is really happening.

I got your post right here...

Today was my first class back at SCC in what looks to be my final semester at the school. Unless they suddenly restate the school’s requirements making everything I’ve done up to this point void, I will have associates degrees in both production and (more importantly) screenwriting once this semester is complete. It’s a good time to be in my world…I’m about to sweep the board.
The first class I attended is entitled “Advanced Motion Picture Production”. What is Advanced Production? It is a 16-week class devoted to the mechanics of narrative filmmaking. It’s bent towards teaching students to work in teams and complete short screenplay ideas with the aim of learning more about film production as a whole. So, it really incorporates elements of every element of production (although, in my opinion, its screenwriting discussion has always been the bastard child of the actual screenwriting program).
Before I go any further, let’s add a little history to this semester’s staging of Advanced Production: About a year ago, the teacher who normally taught Advanced Production dropped out. Citing a number of reasons (mainly workload), she left the class to be picked up by any instructor who took a keen interest in it. Following her exit another instructor both took it up and dropped it, in short making the class the official bear of the program. There are several classes in the programs that have stories and myths surrounding them, but Advanced Production is (aside from Boot Camp and Screenwriting 4) the most notorious.
So there was a void. Attempting to fill in the void, the school picked up a new instructor for the school, someone who could take the reins of Advanced Production. What was the reaction? A lot of students (myself included) were pleased. We saw this as a new beginning for the class. We hoped that the new instructor would jettison the easy-going approaches of the previous two instructors and develop an actual curriculum for the class.

Tonight I learned the meaning of the phrase, “be careful what you wish for”.

Not only did this instructor develop an actual curriculum for the class…he revolutionized the way the class was meant to function. He completely threw away everything it was before this point and in the process ruined the plans of a lot of students. Over the weekend I will assess if that includes my plans.
Beforehand, the idea behind the class was that everyone had the chance to come in with an idea and produce it in that class. If it was 5 minutes or 40 minutes, no big deal…just make sure you have the resources and the manpower to get it made. With that in mind, the instructor would basically green light any request that came his/her way, wither that be for equipment, insurance, the studio or any extra perk the school could extend to ensure your production went a little bit smoother.
Tonight, the law of the land was this: there will only be 5 shorts made this semester. They must be under 5 minutes in length, you may not bring in any outside help to make the short happen and films will not go into production until after a 7-week period. This class is Hollywood, and the instructor is the studio…and just like in Hollywood, there are only so many productions that can be made. If your project does not conform to the standards, you’re out of luck.

Period.
If you can imagine the malaise that followed this announcement, then I certainly hope you feel better. In short, this class was going to be offering a comprehensive education like the students wished, but it would no longer be the playground it once was. And I kid you not…the reaction by the students…and the following counter-action by the teacher (who also happens to teach Sheriff Joe’s posse on the side) was the most painful in-class experience I have ever been through. Harrowing. When kids began complaining, it came down to this: “If you want to stay and get your degree, you play by these rules. If not, there’s the door.”
It was uncomfortable.

So now the question is:

Can I use the school’s resources to make White Bread, Filmic and complete Wildlifeless? I believe so, but I need to find out what my boundaries are.

Perhaps more importantly:

Is this guy going to work my butt off, making any side project I might attempt like Filmic out of the question? Let’s face it: if I’m suddenly a part of the “team”, how much time should I expect to devote to the team? Can I just hock some script out and let them all go and film it? That’s terribly rude and anti-social, but it’s how I feel. I don’t want to make another 5 minute short. I want to make MY shorts. I get it…if I can’t tell a story in 5 minutes, then I suck. Most of the kids in that class have made lots of shorts. I’ve participated in over 20. I don’t want to take 5 steps back and make another Outside In.

So basically, I gotta find out if I can still use the school’s resources…and now I need to come up with a new 5 minute idea that I will pitch to the class next week (along with the 20 other students). Oh, and here’s another little twist: it may be my idea, but that doesn’t mean I get to direct it. I wrote it, sure. But I must apply for the director’s position. So I’m sure as heck not throwing one of my golden eggs out to the class and then letting some guy who waltzed in with a Rockstar in his hand and a Fight Club t-shirt on his chest direct it.

The class itself was all terribly amusing. He basically started out by explaining the narrative film to us. And I swear to you…SWEAR…some of it was the Filmic screenplay verbatim. At one point he was even explaining the meaning of Filmic to the class, which was disinterested just like the class in the script. I was vindicated. I questioned if I was on the right pulse with Filmic…if I was even tapping in to the student experience. The second the instructor mentioned the word “filmic”, I KNEW that I got it all right. Hell, I should have just taken a camera with me and filmed the entire first half of my screenplay.

Following that we were taught about pitching and the art of the pitch…a technique he attempted to demystify by explaining that anyone could do it and that you didn’t have to be a screenwriter to tell a story or give a pitch. Ideas come to everyone. No, you don’t get bonus points for having a screenwriting education.
And then we were all given ideas to pitch and I discovered that, SURPRISE SURPRISE, you do get bonus points for knowing how to write and pitch. He will tell you that anyone can do it. But in that class, if you go in with a prior knowledge of screenwriting, you are the king of that smelly little room. Tonight, two students were from the screenwriting program…a friend from a previous class, and myself. And you had better believe that we cleaned their clocks. Here’s how it went: we were divvied up into teams of 5 and expected to give our pitch in front of the class. My team had to sell a screenplay about Hurricane Katrina, starring Harry Conick Jr. No one wanted to pitch in the group. We all hated our idea. I rolled my eyes and said “fine”, went up there and got the green light from the “studio”. Same thing with my friend (only, they had a spectacular idea). My team was pleased. This leads me to realize two extra things:

1. If I come up with a decent enough idea between now and next week, I will be one of those 5 films that gets made. No question. But do I want to? If I mop the floor, what added responsibility am I taking on for myself?
2. These kids are already talking about the chance of not making 5 films, but rather one. If that’s the case (and the instructor has indicated that if we want it to be, it will be) then the class will need a 20-minute idea. They will need someone to pitch it to them. And the entire class will pitch in money to get the idea made. After tonight’s filmic discussion, I believe that I can be the 20-minute film if things get pushed that way. The gamble? In doing so, do I give up my directorial position on the film and do I alienate Matter of Chance from it? If so, then there’s no way I’m bringing Filmic or White Bread anywhere near that class. I direct. Josh shoots. Gabe is IGNACIO. No exceptions.

So all in all, I’m a little worried. If I can’t use the school’s resources to make Filmic and White Bread, then this stinks royally. If I can use them…then great!

What really worries me: dare I let my competitive spirit go in there and sell the heck out of an idea I can’t commit to? I don’t want to bite off more then I can chew. I will participate in the class, but I want to make my shorts.

Holmes in da House

My interest in feature length screenplays and dramatic narrative has recently led me into episodic structure…something I’ve been pondering over lately due to the reemergence of an old entertainment, and the development of a new one.
First, the new: I’ve really gotten into that television show House over the last few weeks. I mean really into it. Herein lies a show with a ridiculously strong protagonist, unique dramatic mechanism and clean narrative structure…

Allow me to deviate for a moment here and state that while the character of House is brilliant, I credit Hugh Laurie for that portrait. I am sure that some general idea of his persona was conceived at the time of the show’s scripting, but it’s easy to see by the character’s inner life and the gradual comfort each episode gains with the character that the writers' had little hand in the matter. However, I believe the writers to be chiefly responsible for the show’s lean structure.

…Of course, the show has been criticized for its episodic structure, but I find that to be the show’s chief virtue. It’s kind of nice to have a program wherein each episode is self-contained and functional. After trying to keep up with the interlocked plotlines of 24 and Lost, House is a real breather. Episodic also seems to be a rising trend this year. The producers of Lost have recently announced that the third season will be much more serial in its nature than the previous plot-heavy seasons. Good, I say. But to be honest…I can’t wait for more House.

Now for the old: I’ve returned to reading Sherlock Holmes stories recently. To be fair, I used to read Holmes stories all the time; the atmosphere of Doyle’s Victorian world was instrumental in creating Sin of the Opiate, not to mention the dialogue in Wildlifeless. But as to why I started reading these stories again (since those two projects are quickly descending into history) I don’t know.

Oh, wait.

It might be because the Holmesian structure is like clockwork…a classic example of episodic narrative. I should also note that I’ve learned that the characterization of Holmes and the episodic structure of these stories play a key influence for House. Ah yes, the picture is complete.
In a final note for this rather indulgent blog entry: I picked up my reading with “The Adventure of the Empty House”, the first story after Holmes’ “death” in “The Final Problem”. While I found “The Final Problem” to be a rather flat and heartless story (you could tell that Doyle was just sick of the character by then), “The Adventure of the Empty House” was thrilling. Easily one of the best Holmes stories. Wherein Doyle had given up on trying to create a Victorian London with all sorts of vibrancy and uniqueness in “Problem”, “Empty House” has him painting a stunning, dangerous world nearly rivaling that of “The Sign of Four”. Most notable? The villain in this short work is a retired big game hunter! I wish I had read this story before Wildlifeless…and yet, it was extremely gratifying to note that the big game hunter herein was depicted much in the same grandiose fashion that we have depicted ours.

Blim-Bloom-Kablaam!

Alright, so a lot of idiots throw together rap crap, and this isn't a whole lot better, but I thought I'd share. It's not too shabby for throwin' it down quick, with Matt tossing up the very first thought of a blueberry pie theme. Matt Turner put down a sample on Pro Tools, he layed down a bass line, and I tapped some keys. And what I dub, The Blueberry Hill Gang (Matt, Brock, Jacob Dutiel, and myself), spit up lyrics. We messed around with Brock's voice and liked his part so much, we ended the rap with it. Download - Blueberry Pie.

(Gabe)
One night I rolled up in my benz to the cafe with some friendz
we was feelin' the hunger, night wasn't gettin any younger
yelled out to the waitress "yo, woman, make us some pie!"
She says "what kind?" We yell out, "a blueberry, a blueberry, blueberry, a blueberry pie
Yo, cold-check, not any pastry will do
it's gotta be a pie and it's gotta be blue
blue pie? You smokin' the crack?
No, blueberry! So, get off my back!
(Matt)
I said blueberry pie, it taste delicious
when grandma cooks it, we don't have to do the dishes
because we lick the plates clean, you know what I mean?
as soon as we're done, it's time for ice cream
rasberries, cherries, forget 'em, all we wants blueberries
all we wants blueberries
(Brock)
Why, oh, why? Blueberry pie, on my mind
eatin' all my time
something scary, it's so hairy
lookin' for Matt's fridge, gotta binge
Gabe's comin' ova, with leftova
my, oh, my, hits mouth so sweet
I swear I could die, blueberry pie, pie, pie
(Jacob, lyrics by Matt)
When I wake I ache for blueberry pie to get baked
so I wait and watch the oven
try to take my pie and a ninja kick is comin'
kick, you slip, my karate chop's so swift
with fury, take you down while I eat blueberries

A much needed post

Man oh man...there hasn't been a post 'round these parts in forever. That I aim to fix, right now.

Earlier this evening I created a costume list for Filmic's major players. So far, the actors being provided with costumes are Vincent (who will look very Lawrence of Arabia meets Thom Yorke), Ignacio (a cheep character since all he really wears are camo pants), the Muslim (who is turning out to be a direct parody of Ali's in Wildlifeless...hence, a direct commentary on myself), and the two Marines (who have the most wardrobe out of ANY character in the script. If I can get all the items I want for these guys, they will just look insane).
I also tried to revise some of the Filmic budget, getting in as many numbers as I possibly could. So far we're golden on the makeup department, almost golden on the props and almost golden on the grip. After working on the budget for a bit, I chatted with a friend from school (Brad) who is going to start looking for the studio location. In the screenplay there is a studio location that is described as a white void, similar to locations in THX/The Matrix. I hope to have that location locked soon.

Once the budget is locked I shall begin my directorial notes...

That is all.

Get Well

This post is for Josh, who just had his appendix out. Feel better dude!

Josh's Appendix: 1970 Something - 2006

My Belated Reflection on The Village

When I first saw The Village in a theater, I walked out feeling empty, and disappointed. To me, it was Shyamalan’s first movie to fall under the bar which he set so high. Even short of Signs, which had the ridiculous notion that H2O-vulnerable Aliens would try to invade a water-logged planet. Part of it for me was that he built the tension so high up to a point that, it felt like a bomb would go off, but instead, the fuse fizzled out. With that, I’m not saying the movie was horrible, because he did a fantastic job of building up the tension. However, the wound runs deeper.

I hadn’t seen The Village again until quite some time after it had been on DVD. In fact, I believe it was early this year. I even came to dislike The Village, and couldn’t fully understand why. It couldn’t just be that the ending had little payoff for me. C’mon, the villagers actually living in modern times wasn’t exactly something to fall out of your seat over. At least, not for me. So, with much time to cool down and reopen the mind, I rented it, trying to have no expectations. Additionally, I felt that knowing the ending, I could catch the finer points of the movie. That turned out to be the opposite.

What I discovered with my second viewing of The Village, outright offended me. And that, was Manoj’s cold, outright manipulation of his audience to get his surprise. This time it wasn’t the means of a genius screenplay. It could’ve been, but Night seemed to fear he would give away too much. So much so, that he resorted to manipulation in the worst of ways. And I say, shame on you Shyamalan!

The first manipulation was in the opening scene. The camera focuses in, quite poignantly, on a tombstone dating in the late 1800s. I couldn’t help but feel that was a cheap-shot. In abscense of story to draw our attention away, he outright misleads. Sure, the villagers want to live in a more simple time, but what does the date matter? I’m sure they would say that it helps take their minds off the time they’re hiding from. But really, does it make much difference?

Quite ridiculous, but necessary in order to keep the story afloat from the ending, is their manner of speech. Really, would one go through so much trouble to make up dialect, or attempt dialect of another era? However, if they spoke like we do today, it would give the ending away. With that in mind, it was wise of him to have the characters speak in a way they thought it would have been.

Another low-blow was Manoj’s use of sound, in particular, that of the creatures. No human in a creature suit could make such a loud, fearsome noise. Some might say it was the interpretation of what the frightened villagers heard. I don’t care how scared I was, I couldn’t imagine that. Go ahead, pop in the DVD and listen to what I’m talking about.

One thing that blew my mind the most, was that Night cut a scene from the version that showed in theaters. It was completely missing from the DVD, even from the deleted scenes. It was a scene between Ivy Walker (Bryce Dallas Howard) and Mrs. Clack (Cherry Jones). Mrs. Clack was relating her negative experience from the outside towns, something that happened in an alley. Ivy then quipped “What’s an alley?” It was the scene that tipped me to the ending, and perhaps enough people that Shyamalan felt it was too revealing (after the fact) and removed it for the DVD release. It’s not the first time further editing has been done for a DVD release, but the fact that he didn’t even mention it in his deleted scenes portion, showed prideful arrogance to me. It was as if he didn’t want to admit to a mistake, yet, it wasn’t a mistake, it was just a clue that more people caught onto than he wanted.

He was at the point where he should have made a movie that didn’t need a surprise ending. It felt as if he worried too much about hiding his “surprise ending” that he had to force it…force it with lies! That was a little extreme, but he should’ve tried to write outside his bubble, or direct something that someone else wrote. Unfortunately, trying to write outside his bubble produced Lady in the Water, a jarring mess.

To end on a positive note, I loved everything else about The Village – the setting, the cinematography, the mood, the tension, the acting (except his). All other aspects were there. That is why he needs to direct something where he doesn’t have himself all wrapped around the story, because he has the raw talent.

Next

It is with a tinge of sadness that I removed the cards, structure notes and paradigm diagram for Filmic from my writing cork-board today. The project is clearly finished. While the tremendous task of planning out the shots, budget and locations lies ahead, I feel that any difficulty in bringing this project to the fore has now been eliminated. Despite my past and current problems in organizing and creating movies, the problems in bringing the project to fruition always lies in the completion of the script. Along with most of the fun. In that respect, Syd Field always likened writing projects to personal relationships. Even when the relationship is well past its expiration, writers are always hesitant to let them go. Writing a screenplay, even a short one, is a grand journey. It's always sad to see the ending.
At any rate, I am also happy to be done with it. I have to work like mad in the next two weeks to get the budget and schedule together so that I can begin pushing a proposal. I'll save my directorial interpretation of the script for after the busy-work of producing...that way I have something fun to look forward to.

Next, I must attempt to elevate the screenplay for Everlast. With Filmic written, Wildlifeless nearing completion all-together, and White Bread appearing to be the next work on the horizon, Everlast has been revealed to be the armature’s work it is. In comparison to Wildlifeless' mock-suspense, Everlast is of a somewhat lowbrow persuasion. In comparison to Filmic, a screenplay that pulls back the curtain on the establishment known as film school, Everlast is laughable. Strengthening that screenplay is my next short project.

Maybe haps later I will recount our showing at the Cinema Lounge. It could have been a near disaster...but thankfully, the evening turned out quite well. It was a pleasure to be able to view other filmmaker's work, and chat with them at length about it. I'll offer more on this subject soon.

Working on the filmic script...

Getting ready for the pre-production budgeting, casting, storyboard work. Putting this (hopefully) final draft together is like putting together a mix tape.

Current scene order (make what sense of this you will):

1. The Squib
2. Vincent Shanks Runt
3. Tower Explosion
4. Leaving Baghdad/Entering Phoenix
5. Changing film
6. The Gas Mask Scene
7. Mario's letter
8. Camera jam
9. Planning explosion
10. Showdown
11. Meeting the filmmakers/Vincent's lightmeter