Sunday, November 29, 2009
Another appearance on Little Mosque
I make another appearance on this season of CBC TV's Little Mosque on the Prairie on Monday November 28. It's usually on at 8 PM in most parts of Canada. But it looks like they're repeating a holiday special episode followed at 8:30 by the new one that I'm in.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
After watching The Border
It's always an interesting experience watching myself on TV or film. I can't help but recall how we shot the scene on the day and then how they ended up editing it.
So often, TV editors, especially, seldom use the actor's best performances, but rather focus on "getting the lines" and often let matching go out the window. (By matching, i mean that if one actor's head is tilted left in one angle, but tilted right in the other--it causes a jump cut, which makes me crazy because it kicks me out of getting caught up in the story.) Film editors are much more careful when it comes to this and usually have more takes of material to work with.
Last Thursday I watched myself on The Border and didn't cringe. The character is so far removed from who and how I am in real life, it was interesting to see if I could actually buy into believing it wasn't me. Well, I didn't of course, but it was fun trying. I sometimes wish I could redo a line or wish they'd used a better take, but the actor is powerless in what becomes an editor's medium. That's why I try to ensure that my takes are bulletproof as much as possible. Matching matters to me, so that it becomes easier for the editor to pick a good performance IF he's paying attention to matching.
Of course, it would have been nice to score a head credit for my guest star part, but CBC tends to be very arbitrary with credits for their non-star guest roles. Despite having more dialogue than anyone but the guest lead, I didn't score a head credit, while actors with less screen time did. Go figure. (I realize this might seem petty, but head credits are a way of raising profile for future work.)
So often, TV editors, especially, seldom use the actor's best performances, but rather focus on "getting the lines" and often let matching go out the window. (By matching, i mean that if one actor's head is tilted left in one angle, but tilted right in the other--it causes a jump cut, which makes me crazy because it kicks me out of getting caught up in the story.) Film editors are much more careful when it comes to this and usually have more takes of material to work with.
Last Thursday I watched myself on The Border and didn't cringe. The character is so far removed from who and how I am in real life, it was interesting to see if I could actually buy into believing it wasn't me. Well, I didn't of course, but it was fun trying. I sometimes wish I could redo a line or wish they'd used a better take, but the actor is powerless in what becomes an editor's medium. That's why I try to ensure that my takes are bulletproof as much as possible. Matching matters to me, so that it becomes easier for the editor to pick a good performance IF he's paying attention to matching.
Of course, it would have been nice to score a head credit for my guest star part, but CBC tends to be very arbitrary with credits for their non-star guest roles. Despite having more dialogue than anyone but the guest lead, I didn't score a head credit, while actors with less screen time did. Go figure. (I realize this might seem petty, but head credits are a way of raising profile for future work.)
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Annoyed at the fence sitting
If you read today's editorial in Canada's self-styled national paper, I hope you get as annoyed as I did. Isn't an editorial supposed to be an opinion? I have no idea what the Globe's opinion on the "great TV debate" actually is. Could it be they are afraid to alienate BOTH the cable and satellite companies who have been purchasing full page ads in the Globe to trumpet their cause as well as the TV networks who have also been purchasing full page ads?
The editorial pays lip service to the concerns of the creative community, including the WGC who have been quietly, (we don't have the money to buy full page ads) complaining that all this is a big distraction from what really matters--getting Canadian airwaves to broadcast Canadian programs.
It's disappointing to see a respected paper like the Globe sell itself out like this. Check out my previous blog entry for the WGC's short video that clarifies the situation for the rest of us, (who aren't shareholders in BDU's or TV networks.)
The editorial pays lip service to the concerns of the creative community, including the WGC who have been quietly, (we don't have the money to buy full page ads) complaining that all this is a big distraction from what really matters--getting Canadian airwaves to broadcast Canadian programs.
It's disappointing to see a respected paper like the Globe sell itself out like this. Check out my previous blog entry for the WGC's short video that clarifies the situation for the rest of us, (who aren't shareholders in BDU's or TV networks.)
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Stop the whinging!
Canada's cable and satellite companies have been fighting Canada's private TV networks for your money. If they spent the same amount of money supporting Canadian programming--because they clearly have the money to waste--entire channels worth of shows could have been made.
Instead, writers, actors and directors twist in the wind while the above's executives figure out what to put in their latest full page newspaper ads and hokey TV commercials.
For a fresh and refreshing perspective on all this nonsense, check out a new video from the Writers Guild of Canada, the guild of professional screenwriters.
There. Doesn't that make sense?
Instead, writers, actors and directors twist in the wind while the above's executives figure out what to put in their latest full page newspaper ads and hokey TV commercials.
For a fresh and refreshing perspective on all this nonsense, check out a new video from the Writers Guild of Canada, the guild of professional screenwriters.
There. Doesn't that make sense?
Monday, November 2, 2009
Structureless Films
The writer I suggested do a beat sheet countered that a couple of fave movies, Lost in Translation and Sideways, didn't have stories so what's the big deal?
She HAD to love a couple of movies that I abhor for their lack of story and in the case of Lost in Translation, a film I also find racist, or at least a movie that yet again elevates the problems of white people in another culture, while turning the members of that culture into extras in their own country.
First, the lack of story in both Lost in Translation and Sideways is fashionable. My concern is with trying to learn screenwriting from those scripts. Lost In Translation cheats the audience out of the most important moment in the story, such as it is: what exactly did Bill Murray whisper to Scarlett Johansen? But seriously, who cares? Here's a movie that shows Japanese people as either ranting idiots--the Japanese commercial director--or prostitutes--the prostitute. Are there any other Japanese characters these self-absorbed white people ever meet, interact with, care about or know in their time in Tokyo? This is a movie where nothing happens, not even a romance between the leads, (as yucky as that probably would have been), and they don't even get out of the damn hotel long enough to discover anything about one of the most amazing cities in the world.
Sideways has great performances going for it and four really terrific characters, (that is good writing), but I don't think it has anything to teach about structure, especially given the completely unearned payoff at the end the Paul Giamatti character receives.
So if you love those films, you are NOT responding to strong structure. Indeed, Lost in Translation is a classic episodic plot. The episodes could be reordered in almost any fashion without any damage. Aristotle claimed audiences of drama didn't cotton on to episodic plots and I agree.
I guess the best I could say about both films, is that they are exceptions to screenwriting being fundamentally about structure. They may have many pleasure, like mood, dialogue, character, but structure is not their strong suit. So if the writer I attempted to counsel prefers those films to ones with a strong story, I understand. But it's not where I come from and from what I can tell, what most successful screenplays generally contain at their core, viz. a strong structure.
She HAD to love a couple of movies that I abhor for their lack of story and in the case of Lost in Translation, a film I also find racist, or at least a movie that yet again elevates the problems of white people in another culture, while turning the members of that culture into extras in their own country.
First, the lack of story in both Lost in Translation and Sideways is fashionable. My concern is with trying to learn screenwriting from those scripts. Lost In Translation cheats the audience out of the most important moment in the story, such as it is: what exactly did Bill Murray whisper to Scarlett Johansen? But seriously, who cares? Here's a movie that shows Japanese people as either ranting idiots--the Japanese commercial director--or prostitutes--the prostitute. Are there any other Japanese characters these self-absorbed white people ever meet, interact with, care about or know in their time in Tokyo? This is a movie where nothing happens, not even a romance between the leads, (as yucky as that probably would have been), and they don't even get out of the damn hotel long enough to discover anything about one of the most amazing cities in the world.
Sideways has great performances going for it and four really terrific characters, (that is good writing), but I don't think it has anything to teach about structure, especially given the completely unearned payoff at the end the Paul Giamatti character receives.
So if you love those films, you are NOT responding to strong structure. Indeed, Lost in Translation is a classic episodic plot. The episodes could be reordered in almost any fashion without any damage. Aristotle claimed audiences of drama didn't cotton on to episodic plots and I agree.
I guess the best I could say about both films, is that they are exceptions to screenwriting being fundamentally about structure. They may have many pleasure, like mood, dialogue, character, but structure is not their strong suit. So if the writer I attempted to counsel prefers those films to ones with a strong story, I understand. But it's not where I come from and from what I can tell, what most successful screenplays generally contain at their core, viz. a strong structure.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Sometimes it's not a screenplay
I just read a short film script that's being submitted for a contest. The writer is an excellent writer with a nice personal take on the world that comes through very clearly in what she writes. And her piece had a nice payoff at the end.
But after reading it, I realized it would make a fantastic short story, instead of a script. The entire story basically took place in the lead character's head as she mused in voice over about her feelings staying in a New York hotel. All of which is nicely sarcastic and entertaining as far as it went.
What didn't happen was anything. In other words, nothing HAPPENED. And for me, screenplays need something to happen. Even in a short five minute piece, you still need a story and you need conflict and you need a climax and a resolution. Otherwise, you're left with mood, tone and attitude.
Directors LOVE that stuff, because it gives them a reason to wank with the camera.
But the screenwriter abdicates their position if that's the kind of script they write. The only person responsible for the STORY is the screenwriter. Lose the story, and the screenwriter is now a typist for the director.
Aristotle was right. If you want an audience to respond to your script, make sure something happens.
But after reading it, I realized it would make a fantastic short story, instead of a script. The entire story basically took place in the lead character's head as she mused in voice over about her feelings staying in a New York hotel. All of which is nicely sarcastic and entertaining as far as it went.
What didn't happen was anything. In other words, nothing HAPPENED. And for me, screenplays need something to happen. Even in a short five minute piece, you still need a story and you need conflict and you need a climax and a resolution. Otherwise, you're left with mood, tone and attitude.
Directors LOVE that stuff, because it gives them a reason to wank with the camera.
But the screenwriter abdicates their position if that's the kind of script they write. The only person responsible for the STORY is the screenwriter. Lose the story, and the screenwriter is now a typist for the director.
Aristotle was right. If you want an audience to respond to your script, make sure something happens.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Lip Service to Screenwriters
At the behest of the WGC, today I joined other screenwriters like Pete Mitchell (The Guard), Steve Lucas (Blue Murder), Peter Mohan (Blood Ties), Sarah Dodd (The Border) and Denis McGrath (The Border) to protect the interests of Canadian screenwriters in the wake of the amalgamation of the CTF and the Canadian New Media Fund into the catch all fund to finance TV and gaming (and other other online media) called the CMF or Canadian Media Fund.
What was billed as the Toronto focus group was really an unwieldy conference of at least 500 attendees in a cavernous subterranean hall in the Toronto convention centre. This "focus group" was the latest in a series of consultations across the country. (Though when the moderator announced that these consultations had had anywhere from 20 to 100 people attending in the past, I wonder how could 500 people in Toronto equal 20 people somewhere else. I guess that's what someone living in the 416 area code is worth to them?)
The whole experience reminded me why I'd rather be a writer. In fact, I wish I were home writing than attending this thing. But my ability to earn an income from screenwriting depends on how this fund gets implemented so I felt compelled to attend.
Most of the time was taken with the leaders of the fund explaining the new rules to the gathered throng in Orwellian language. Do these bureaucrats actually read what they write? They have labeled the two funding streams "Convergent" and "Experimental" but as far as I can tell the difference boils down to the first having a TV component and the second one not having a TV component. So why not call the streams, TV and Other? Or TV and Not TV? A good half an hour was spent explaining what they meant by convergent and experimental--and they admitted that experimental wasn't a good name!
Screenwriters must write so that their intentions CAN'T be misinterpreted because if it's possible to be misinterpreted, it will be. At least that's my modus operendi. And so the obfuscation in the language of todays consultation was headache inducing for me. Clarity is a screenwriter's currency but it's in short supply among bureacrats.
I'm concerned that this fund is going to get hijacked by the broadcasters/production companies who've made no secret of their desire to see public money like the CMF be siphoned off to foreign nationals to run their story departments and be the star of their show. In fact, a broadcaster went so far as to demand that at the session. And it was given as much credence as the numerous voices demanding public money support only 10 out of 10 productions, as it does currently--that is, fully Canadian on and off screen. But when the day was summarized, the multiple voices for 10 out of 10 equalled the single broadcaster demand for reducing Canadian content.
It felt like lip service was being paid to the attendees. We were pitted against each other by the CMF bureaucrats, who apparently just want us to all get along. Producers versus broadcasters versus screenwriters. Why put us all in a room and expect consensus? Why not meet with the various stakeholders separately and see what we have to say? I guess that would have been too considerate and responsible because today felt like the whole thing was a kiss off to consultation. They can say they consulted us and now do what they want.
Steve Lucas, Denis McGrath, Sarah Dodd, Peter Mohan--these writers are primarily responsible for hundreds of hours of successful television that's been exported and made money for the producers, (probably more than these writers made.) They spoke passionately and intelligently and yet were just placed on a lip service list at the end of the day.
Another day in the life of a Canadian screenwriter. How long before that becomes a contradiction in terms?
What was billed as the Toronto focus group was really an unwieldy conference of at least 500 attendees in a cavernous subterranean hall in the Toronto convention centre. This "focus group" was the latest in a series of consultations across the country. (Though when the moderator announced that these consultations had had anywhere from 20 to 100 people attending in the past, I wonder how could 500 people in Toronto equal 20 people somewhere else. I guess that's what someone living in the 416 area code is worth to them?)
The whole experience reminded me why I'd rather be a writer. In fact, I wish I were home writing than attending this thing. But my ability to earn an income from screenwriting depends on how this fund gets implemented so I felt compelled to attend.
Most of the time was taken with the leaders of the fund explaining the new rules to the gathered throng in Orwellian language. Do these bureaucrats actually read what they write? They have labeled the two funding streams "Convergent" and "Experimental" but as far as I can tell the difference boils down to the first having a TV component and the second one not having a TV component. So why not call the streams, TV and Other? Or TV and Not TV? A good half an hour was spent explaining what they meant by convergent and experimental--and they admitted that experimental wasn't a good name!
Screenwriters must write so that their intentions CAN'T be misinterpreted because if it's possible to be misinterpreted, it will be. At least that's my modus operendi. And so the obfuscation in the language of todays consultation was headache inducing for me. Clarity is a screenwriter's currency but it's in short supply among bureacrats.
I'm concerned that this fund is going to get hijacked by the broadcasters/production companies who've made no secret of their desire to see public money like the CMF be siphoned off to foreign nationals to run their story departments and be the star of their show. In fact, a broadcaster went so far as to demand that at the session. And it was given as much credence as the numerous voices demanding public money support only 10 out of 10 productions, as it does currently--that is, fully Canadian on and off screen. But when the day was summarized, the multiple voices for 10 out of 10 equalled the single broadcaster demand for reducing Canadian content.
It felt like lip service was being paid to the attendees. We were pitted against each other by the CMF bureaucrats, who apparently just want us to all get along. Producers versus broadcasters versus screenwriters. Why put us all in a room and expect consensus? Why not meet with the various stakeholders separately and see what we have to say? I guess that would have been too considerate and responsible because today felt like the whole thing was a kiss off to consultation. They can say they consulted us and now do what they want.
Steve Lucas, Denis McGrath, Sarah Dodd, Peter Mohan--these writers are primarily responsible for hundreds of hours of successful television that's been exported and made money for the producers, (probably more than these writers made.) They spoke passionately and intelligently and yet were just placed on a lip service list at the end of the day.
Another day in the life of a Canadian screenwriter. How long before that becomes a contradiction in terms?
Friday, October 2, 2009
Same story different script
When struggling with a story's structure, I think it's important to realize that it's always possible for a story structure to be executed in different ways.
Witness, starring Harrison Ford, is a good example. If you watch the film, then read the screenplay you'll discover that while both have the same story, they are quite different in execution. For example, the climax in the screenplay is quite different from the film. In the script, John Book employs a mule who kicks in the head of the bad guy, for example. In the screenplay, he lets loose a silo full of grain on him.
Now some may think that makes these two different stories, since the endings are different. But structurally, the stories are the same. What happens? John Book defeats the bad guy using his newfound Amish knowledge of the farm.
It's only how it happens that is different.
"John Book defeats the bad guy using his newfound Amish knowledge of the farm." That is a mini-story. It has a character, performing a difficult action opposed by a fearsome adversary. It's not particularly interesting in this form, but it is a story.
The how in both the screenplay and the movie are equally valid executions of the story structure for an audience. However, I suspect the film is different because it's easier to find a silo full of grain to photograph, than to train a mule to kick on cue without killing the actor.
The film doesn't violate the story, though. If John Book pulled out an AK-47 he had hidden in the trunk of his car to defeat the bad guy, THAT would have been a different story. But in both the film and the script, Book uses his Amish knowledge to defeat the bad guy. It makes them the same story, despite being very different scripts.
Witness, starring Harrison Ford, is a good example. If you watch the film, then read the screenplay you'll discover that while both have the same story, they are quite different in execution. For example, the climax in the screenplay is quite different from the film. In the script, John Book employs a mule who kicks in the head of the bad guy, for example. In the screenplay, he lets loose a silo full of grain on him.
Now some may think that makes these two different stories, since the endings are different. But structurally, the stories are the same. What happens? John Book defeats the bad guy using his newfound Amish knowledge of the farm.
It's only how it happens that is different.
"John Book defeats the bad guy using his newfound Amish knowledge of the farm." That is a mini-story. It has a character, performing a difficult action opposed by a fearsome adversary. It's not particularly interesting in this form, but it is a story.
The how in both the screenplay and the movie are equally valid executions of the story structure for an audience. However, I suspect the film is different because it's easier to find a silo full of grain to photograph, than to train a mule to kick on cue without killing the actor.
The film doesn't violate the story, though. If John Book pulled out an AK-47 he had hidden in the trunk of his car to defeat the bad guy, THAT would have been a different story. But in both the film and the script, Book uses his Amish knowledge to defeat the bad guy. It makes them the same story, despite being very different scripts.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Chicken or egg script analysis
If you scroll down to my post "Why The Hangover Sucks" you can find a comment from someone denouncing my post in somewhat crude language. While I don't think I deserved the name calling for my opinion, he did make me remember why I felt the way I did. I think, parsing his profanity, that he felt I'd imposed a preconceived expectation on the film and because it didn't conform to my idea of what makes a good script, I didn't like it.
But that IS NOT what happens.
What happens when anyone, I think, but at least I, respond to a work of art, analysis is always after the fact. I can't help see something first and respond to it intuitively. Once I understand WHAT I feel, then I can begin to figure out WHY I feel that way.
With The Hangover, I was bored and unamused most of the time. That's my reaction. Now, because I've spent most of my adult life trying to understand how scripts work when they do work, then I apply my experience and opinion to my reaction in order to determine, if I can, why I was bored and unamused.
If you want to know why, you can reread my OP.
But I just am not schizophrenic enough to analyze first and react later. I don't think anyone is, even if they want to be. Sorry to disappoint the commentator of my earlier post, but it just doesn't work that way. Unlike the chicken and the egg conundrum, I definitely know what comes first--my reaction to a movie. WHY comes second. And only if the movie is interesting enough to be worth figuring that out. In the case of The Hangover, it's huge popularity demanded I try and figure out why I didn't conform to everyone else. But then, I'm usually swimming against the tide.
But that IS NOT what happens.
What happens when anyone, I think, but at least I, respond to a work of art, analysis is always after the fact. I can't help see something first and respond to it intuitively. Once I understand WHAT I feel, then I can begin to figure out WHY I feel that way.
With The Hangover, I was bored and unamused most of the time. That's my reaction. Now, because I've spent most of my adult life trying to understand how scripts work when they do work, then I apply my experience and opinion to my reaction in order to determine, if I can, why I was bored and unamused.
If you want to know why, you can reread my OP.
But I just am not schizophrenic enough to analyze first and react later. I don't think anyone is, even if they want to be. Sorry to disappoint the commentator of my earlier post, but it just doesn't work that way. Unlike the chicken and the egg conundrum, I definitely know what comes first--my reaction to a movie. WHY comes second. And only if the movie is interesting enough to be worth figuring that out. In the case of The Hangover, it's huge popularity demanded I try and figure out why I didn't conform to everyone else. But then, I'm usually swimming against the tide.
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