In my profession, the work is either feast or famine. There are weeks on end where I put in 60 to 80 hours and develop amusing little facial tics, and there are weeks where I show up for 32 to 35 hours and act as a security blanket for my managers.
The last couple of weeks were a time of feast and now we are hitting a week-to-two time of famine. This is my opportunity to catch up on sleep and maybe write something on the ol' blog.
The first thing I feel compelled to do is follow up on all of the shameless self promotion I did here last week.
The scene reading went even better than expected. The actors really sank teeth into their parts and knocked it out of the park (how's that for a mixed metaphor?). It is one thing to have voices in your head to tell you what to write; it is quite another to hear people lend their voices to the ones in your head, and do a better job than your brain does.
Afterwards, I had several people tell me that I needed to bring the next ten pages to the July 8th scene reading because everyone wants to know what happens next. It made me feel all warm and gooey inside. Expect me at the scene readings for the next nine months (approx) so I can finish this screenplay.
I attended two sessions of the writer's workshop at the Trinity Arts Conference and presented two films (which you can read about here and here). I did not realize that there was a three-page limit for the writer's workshop and brought an eight-page short film screenplay for the workshop attendees to scrutinize. Fortunately, this blog entry from a few months ago counted as less than three pages. The other workshop attendees seemed to get a kick out of it and for the rest of the conference people kindly reminded me that meat is murder.
The film presentations went well, too. I wound up giving out this blog's URL to someone so he could read my introduction for one of the films, which was a little surprising and humbling. (I had to write it out, because, let's be honest, the blog's URL is an alphabet soup that is hard to remember.) PLUS someone was kind enough to ask me if I would be willing to speak to his screenwriting class in Houston sometime. That blew me away because most of my life people have been trying to keep me AWAY from impressionable young minds.
We had interesting discussions after the films, too. Some people were taken aback by the 1940sness of Sullivan's Travels - let's just say there is some racial humor in that film that is way uncool. (I forgive it because I believe the film it a relic of its time and we should accept it as such. Some people didn't share my opinion and that is perfectly fine.)
Afterwards I spoke to someone about how people from our grandparents' generation had no problems with cruel racial stereotypes but had issues with an occasional f-bomb, and how now the situation is reversed. "I wonder what people will hate about our generation years from now?" the person asked.
"Bet you anything it will involve Jim Carrey."
Showing posts with label trinity arts conference. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trinity arts conference. Show all posts
Monday, June 16, 2008
Monday, June 09, 2008
Even MORE Shameless Self Promotion
This Saturday at 3pm, I am speaking at the Trinity Arts Conference, a conference for Christianity and the Arts.
The second film I will be screening is Sullivan's Travels
. This is one of my favorite films ever, so if you don't like it, tough boogers, it is brilliant.
This is the speech I will give before the screening of the film. I am particularly proud of the fact I find a way to talk about pornography at a Christian Arts Conference in a way that shouldn't offend the attendees while at the same time slamming Thomas Kinkade.
**
I want to talk about pornography for a few minutes. I don’t want to talk about the genre of art, I want to talk about the word “pornography”. Because, like so many words in the English language, the meaning has changed over the years.
Traditionally, the word has been used for material with no artistic merit aside from the purpose of sexual arousal. But more and more often the word is now being used to describe anything that rouses an emotion without any real personal connection or engagement. The viewer may respond, but doesn’t really interact.
For example, when visiting a Mac store I overheard someone describing it as a “home for design porn.” The trendiest club in the trendiest part of town can be dismissed as “hipster porn.” Thomas Kinkade exemplifies “Impressionistic landscape porn.”
I’m talking about this because one of the more interesting film criticism essays I read this past year came from film critic Karina Longworth describing her addiction to, as she put it, Katrina porn.
The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina was and still is a dark point in American history. It is also a very well-documented point in American history. In her essay, Ms. Longworth talks about being glued to the television for days watching the people on rooftops waving for help, the pleas written on bridges and roads, and the bodies floating in the water. She watched and rewatched these images, crying each time. She felt a rush of sentiment and emotion, but yet she did not perform any action except to keep watching. She did not donate blood. She did not volunteer her time or money. She did not help anyone. She just watched.
Once she realized what she was doing, and once she started recognizing what “Katrina porn” was, she decided to go cold turkey and avoid any media having to do with Katrina and its aftermath, lest she fall back into a zone of sentiment, tears, and inaction.
We live in a golden age of documentaries. The cost of gathering up a film crew and going someplace is a fraction of what it once was. All it really takes is determination and work to capture enough video or film footage to coast on a popular subject. And, in a post-Katrina world, film crews descended on a ruined New Orleans en masse.
This posed a bit of a problem for Ms. Longworth. Her job as a film critic was to review and discuss new independent films, but coming down the pike were several Katrina documentaries, some of which followed the documentary tradition of Michael Moore and Morgan Spurlock – a tradition that involves the filmmakers getting in front of the camera and acting like narrators and guides through the scenes of desolation. Which led some of us to ask this question – “Do we really need over-privileged filmmakers from New York explaining to us how the New Orleans poor suffered?”
Setting the cynicism aside for a second, I don’t really question the high-mindedness of these documentary projects. I believe the filmmakers started their projects with the best of intentions. However, there is a fine line between raising awareness of an issue and exploiting the issue, especially when you take your film to Sundance in hopes of making a big sale.
So.
What does all of this have to do with a screwball comedy from 1941? Nothing and everything all at once.
The title character, Sullivan, starts out as high-minded and sincere as any of the Katrina documentarians. Early on in the film he talks about his next project - a film that acts as a commentary on the condition and dignity of the common man. He then seeks out the horrors of the Great Depression in an attempt to magically transform them into entertainment.
When I heard that “Change” was the theme of this year’s conference, this movie immediately leapt to mind. Like the collection of short films that comprise Paris, je t'aime, this film changes constantly. One second it is a fast-talking, dialogue-driven comedy and in the next it veers into silly slapstick or bedroom farce. But no matter how much the film changes, even when it gets dark, it remains completely true to itself and to the artistic vision of the writer/director, Preston Sturges.
And that is what is so fascinating about the film – no matter how much things change, the truth is always constant.
The second film I will be screening is Sullivan's Travels
. This is one of my favorite films ever, so if you don't like it, tough boogers, it is brilliant.This is the speech I will give before the screening of the film. I am particularly proud of the fact I find a way to talk about pornography at a Christian Arts Conference in a way that shouldn't offend the attendees while at the same time slamming Thomas Kinkade.
**
I want to talk about pornography for a few minutes. I don’t want to talk about the genre of art, I want to talk about the word “pornography”. Because, like so many words in the English language, the meaning has changed over the years.
Traditionally, the word has been used for material with no artistic merit aside from the purpose of sexual arousal. But more and more often the word is now being used to describe anything that rouses an emotion without any real personal connection or engagement. The viewer may respond, but doesn’t really interact.
For example, when visiting a Mac store I overheard someone describing it as a “home for design porn.” The trendiest club in the trendiest part of town can be dismissed as “hipster porn.” Thomas Kinkade exemplifies “Impressionistic landscape porn.”
I’m talking about this because one of the more interesting film criticism essays I read this past year came from film critic Karina Longworth describing her addiction to, as she put it, Katrina porn.
The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina was and still is a dark point in American history. It is also a very well-documented point in American history. In her essay, Ms. Longworth talks about being glued to the television for days watching the people on rooftops waving for help, the pleas written on bridges and roads, and the bodies floating in the water. She watched and rewatched these images, crying each time. She felt a rush of sentiment and emotion, but yet she did not perform any action except to keep watching. She did not donate blood. She did not volunteer her time or money. She did not help anyone. She just watched.
Once she realized what she was doing, and once she started recognizing what “Katrina porn” was, she decided to go cold turkey and avoid any media having to do with Katrina and its aftermath, lest she fall back into a zone of sentiment, tears, and inaction.
We live in a golden age of documentaries. The cost of gathering up a film crew and going someplace is a fraction of what it once was. All it really takes is determination and work to capture enough video or film footage to coast on a popular subject. And, in a post-Katrina world, film crews descended on a ruined New Orleans en masse.
This posed a bit of a problem for Ms. Longworth. Her job as a film critic was to review and discuss new independent films, but coming down the pike were several Katrina documentaries, some of which followed the documentary tradition of Michael Moore and Morgan Spurlock – a tradition that involves the filmmakers getting in front of the camera and acting like narrators and guides through the scenes of desolation. Which led some of us to ask this question – “Do we really need over-privileged filmmakers from New York explaining to us how the New Orleans poor suffered?”
Setting the cynicism aside for a second, I don’t really question the high-mindedness of these documentary projects. I believe the filmmakers started their projects with the best of intentions. However, there is a fine line between raising awareness of an issue and exploiting the issue, especially when you take your film to Sundance in hopes of making a big sale.
So.
What does all of this have to do with a screwball comedy from 1941? Nothing and everything all at once.
The title character, Sullivan, starts out as high-minded and sincere as any of the Katrina documentarians. Early on in the film he talks about his next project - a film that acts as a commentary on the condition and dignity of the common man. He then seeks out the horrors of the Great Depression in an attempt to magically transform them into entertainment.
When I heard that “Change” was the theme of this year’s conference, this movie immediately leapt to mind. Like the collection of short films that comprise Paris, je t'aime, this film changes constantly. One second it is a fast-talking, dialogue-driven comedy and in the next it veers into silly slapstick or bedroom farce. But no matter how much the film changes, even when it gets dark, it remains completely true to itself and to the artistic vision of the writer/director, Preston Sturges
.And that is what is so fascinating about the film – no matter how much things change, the truth is always constant.
More Shameless Self Promotion
This Friday and Saturday, I am speaking at the Trinity Arts Conference, a conference about Christianity and the Arts.
I am the conference's go-to guy as far as film is concerned. What I am doing this year, and what I have done in the past, is give a five-to-ten minute speech about a film, show the film, and moderate a brief discussion afterwards. I'm only allowed two hours and most of the films I want to show fill up all that time and more.
This year's films are Paris, Je T'Aime (which will screen on Friday at 3pm) and Sullivan's Travels (which will screen on Saturday at 3pm - that speech will be in the next blog post).
And this is a portion of the speech I will give before screening Paris, Je T'Aime.
***
Creativity is about limitations. It sounds counter-intuitive, but it is true. This is why painters have a canvas – anything can happen on the canvas, but the canvas itself acts as a restrictive space. When looking at paintings, it is always breathtaking to see how much power is concentrated in such a small space. By limiting art, we give it potency.
We have reached a point where anything can and does appear in motion pictures. Special effects and computers have made it so practically anything that can be imagined can be made into an image. Super heroes can swing from skyscraper to skyscraper. The armies of Middle Earth can slam into each other with a tangible impact. And teenage wizards can do anything within the bounds of imagination, except maybe act.
The myth of technology is that it is automatically better than what has gone on before. All one has to do is compare the films of the past decade to the ones in the 1940s and early 50s to know this is not true. Despite our technological advancements, we have not achieved something as visually stunning as The Red Shoes, as sharp and witty as All About Eve or something as timeless as Vertigo.
We have an unlimited canvas. We can do whatever we want. But without limiting our canvas, without making choices, we are merely stuck with… whatever.
Artists make choices. The sculptor chooses the type of stone. The potter chooses the type of clay. The singer chooses the vocal inflection. Each choice moves the work of art from the abstract nothingness that accompanies a blank unlimited canvas to the specifics of the piece work.
The movie Paris, je t'aime is an example of such a movement from the abstract to the particular. The title, translated as Paris, I Love You tells you on a high-level what the filmmaking project is – all of the filmmakers were asked to make a film about both Paris and Love.
There were other limitations. The film could be no longer than five minutes. The filming time should not take more than two days. Each director and film crew would be assigned to a specific arrondissements, or municipal region, of Paris. The 20 arrondissements of Paris eventually yielded 18 short films, all weaved together into a feature length collage that acts both as map and a love letter to the city.
Because it is a collection of short films, one of the great aspects of the film is the way it constantly changes. If you are bored or uninterested in the movie, just wait five minutes. The film moves to a new arrondissement and a new story begins.
The idea of a five-minute film about one specific region is a simple enough creative challenge – but like the simplest of ideas it opens up a world of possibility. The ‘Making of’ features that accompany the DVD of the film are more often than not a series of montages of various people describing what an exciting creative challenge their particular short film is.
The Coen Brothers talk about how they’ve never made a short film and wanted to challenge themselves .Natalie Portman talks about how she has always wanted an opportunity to work with Tom Tykwer. Elijah Wood talks about how he’s always wanted to be in a silent film.
This passion for art and experimentation shines through the entire project. The passion for the creative challenge and the joy of filmmaking saturate this film.
Two things stand out when watching a film like this. One is how established directors with distinctive artistic voices quickly and firmly let themselves be known within such a short time. Anyone familiar with Tom Tykwer’s Run Lola Run will recognize his contribution to this film. Just like anyone who has seen an Alexander Payne film will recognize his style immediately. Within such confined artistic restrictions, their artistic voices shine through brighter than ever.
The other thing that stands out in this film is the exposure to new talent. Personally speaking, I have not paid any attention to the work of Isabel Coixet or Oliver Schmitz, but after spending five minutes with each of them, I felt compelled to seek out the rest of their work. That is what I hope you get out of the film today. Five minutes of pure joy that will cause you to seek out more.
I am the conference's go-to guy as far as film is concerned. What I am doing this year, and what I have done in the past, is give a five-to-ten minute speech about a film, show the film, and moderate a brief discussion afterwards. I'm only allowed two hours and most of the films I want to show fill up all that time and more.
This year's films are Paris, Je T'Aime
(which will screen on Friday at 3pm) and Sullivan's Travels (which will screen on Saturday at 3pm - that speech will be in the next blog post).And this is a portion of the speech I will give before screening Paris, Je T'Aime
.***
Creativity is about limitations. It sounds counter-intuitive, but it is true. This is why painters have a canvas – anything can happen on the canvas, but the canvas itself acts as a restrictive space. When looking at paintings, it is always breathtaking to see how much power is concentrated in such a small space. By limiting art, we give it potency.
We have reached a point where anything can and does appear in motion pictures. Special effects and computers have made it so practically anything that can be imagined can be made into an image. Super heroes can swing from skyscraper to skyscraper. The armies of Middle Earth can slam into each other with a tangible impact. And teenage wizards can do anything within the bounds of imagination, except maybe act.
The myth of technology is that it is automatically better than what has gone on before. All one has to do is compare the films of the past decade to the ones in the 1940s and early 50s to know this is not true. Despite our technological advancements, we have not achieved something as visually stunning as The Red Shoes, as sharp and witty as All About Eve or something as timeless as Vertigo.
We have an unlimited canvas. We can do whatever we want. But without limiting our canvas, without making choices, we are merely stuck with… whatever.
Artists make choices. The sculptor chooses the type of stone. The potter chooses the type of clay. The singer chooses the vocal inflection. Each choice moves the work of art from the abstract nothingness that accompanies a blank unlimited canvas to the specifics of the piece work.
The movie Paris, je t'aime is an example of such a movement from the abstract to the particular. The title, translated as Paris, I Love You tells you on a high-level what the filmmaking project is – all of the filmmakers were asked to make a film about both Paris and Love.
There were other limitations. The film could be no longer than five minutes. The filming time should not take more than two days. Each director and film crew would be assigned to a specific arrondissements, or municipal region, of Paris. The 20 arrondissements of Paris eventually yielded 18 short films, all weaved together into a feature length collage that acts both as map and a love letter to the city.
Because it is a collection of short films, one of the great aspects of the film is the way it constantly changes. If you are bored or uninterested in the movie, just wait five minutes. The film moves to a new arrondissement and a new story begins.
The idea of a five-minute film about one specific region is a simple enough creative challenge – but like the simplest of ideas it opens up a world of possibility. The ‘Making of’ features that accompany the DVD of the film are more often than not a series of montages of various people describing what an exciting creative challenge their particular short film is.
The Coen Brothers talk about how they’ve never made a short film and wanted to challenge themselves .Natalie Portman talks about how she has always wanted an opportunity to work with Tom Tykwer. Elijah Wood talks about how he’s always wanted to be in a silent film.
This passion for art and experimentation shines through the entire project. The passion for the creative challenge and the joy of filmmaking saturate this film.
Two things stand out when watching a film like this. One is how established directors with distinctive artistic voices quickly and firmly let themselves be known within such a short time. Anyone familiar with Tom Tykwer’s Run Lola Run will recognize his contribution to this film. Just like anyone who has seen an Alexander Payne film will recognize his style immediately. Within such confined artistic restrictions, their artistic voices shine through brighter than ever.
The other thing that stands out in this film is the exposure to new talent. Personally speaking, I have not paid any attention to the work of Isabel Coixet or Oliver Schmitz, but after spending five minutes with each of them, I felt compelled to seek out the rest of their work. That is what I hope you get out of the film today. Five minutes of pure joy that will cause you to seek out more.
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