24 April, 2012

The Duckie Ending: The Artist & the Audience.



Copyright: Paramount Pictures

    Way back in 1986, the filmmaker John Hughes was putting the finishing touches on his film Pretty In Pink; a cute little story about a teenaged girl named Andie who has to choose between her clingy, but sweet childhood friend Duckie who is in love with her and her “richie”, well-to-do, but sensitive crush Blaine. The film was being put through its paces with focus groups and, like most films, changes were made based on their feedback. It’s a pretty standard practice in the industry, and can be used to great effect to smooth out rough spots in a motion picture.
    But the original ending where Andie ultimately picks Duckie for her prom date didn’t play well to teenaged girls. They wanted her to end up with Blaine, played by then teenage heart throb Andrew McCarthy. So the filmmakers went back and re-shot the ending that we now have in the finished film and a couple of years ago the Duckie ending surfaced on a DVD reissue as an special feature.

    Not wanting to start a pointless debate on which was the better ending, I wish instead to examine the deteriorated dialogue between artist and audience. As Devin Faraci over at Badass Digest has recently opined, the modern audience has matured quite callously in the past couple of decades and has begun to co-opt the stories we storytellers are trying to tell. Wresting it away in fits of rabid fandom: a growing, vocal audience of dissidents is redefining how stories are told, pressuring artists to change their work for their satisfaction.


Copyright: Bioware

    I’m talking about Mass Effect 3 and its controversial ending. The Mass Effect series is a video game space opera telling the story of a human military man named Shepard and his battle to save the galaxy. The story itself is engrossingly rich and detailed, with character development rivaling some of the best television shows and films of our time. With each game’s story clocking in at a minimum of 40 hours, the time commitment is greater than a full season of a television series.
    For those of us (myself included) who have been with the series for nearly a decade, it was a shock in how brief and broad the ending to the series was. I would venture to say that it was quite vague. Many other gamers felt even more slighted and took drastic action by campaigning for Bioware, the makers of Mass Effect, to go back and alter the ending to be more pleasing to its fanbase. With much ado, Bioware has listened to the criticism and set a dangerous president by acceding to this request, reworking the ending for the “closure” these fans demanded.

    As a storyteller I can’t adequately express how this turn of events disappoints and terrifies me. It’s artistic bullying. The audience has surpassed co-opting the author’s work with fan fiction and is now the chief editor of the creative process. Why is this terrible? Well, imagine someone who has no real experience doing what you do telling you how to do your job. Oh, and this person is your customer, your only customer; and if you piss them off then you lose your job and your place in the market. So what do you do? Acquiesce and lose your creative voice or stand firm and lose your audience? In the case of Mass Effect I will say that it’s betrayal on both parts. A loss of trust. The line of communication has been severed and dialogue has become political; polemic.

26 March, 2012

Why 'John Carter' Bombed.

Copyright: Disney Co.
Why John Carter Bombed.

You know, besides an awful advertising campaign.

    By now, rather than having seen it, you have probably read about how Disney’s newest adventure film John Carter has turned in to a catastrophic cineplex bomb. It’s not a terrible film, by any stretch. Yes, I found myself a little confused at times with the verbiage of the alien language, and the acting fell a bit flat in places. But, in all, I felt it ran circles around the Star Wars prequels and it was much easier to watch than the god-awful Avatar. At least this film acknowledges the inspirations from whence it came.
    However, rather than review the film outright and spend precious energy on whether or not you thought it sucked, I wish to type about the factors that I feel contributed to the downfall of this film: rather like tripping a race horse right out of the gate, and postulate how this might be avoided in the future.

The factors of failure are as follows:

1. The Stigma of Anticipation.
    Based on Edgar Rice Burrows’ novel: A Princess Of Mars (pub. 1917), the book has been an inspiration to countless filmmakers, novelists, and sci-fi nuts of the last century. Filmmakers have attempted to put the series of novels on the silver screen since the infancy of cinema itself with six or seven stalled attempts to revive it from Turn-Around, or Development Hell, as we in the industry affectionately refer to it.
    An idea kicked around for almost a century of course brings with it the weight of expectation. Everyone has an idea of what it should look like, sound like, taste like. Enough time has passed that the script, by all means, should be the best of the best and the film itself should blow the audience’s hair off. But what if it doesn’t? Where does the line of expectation crush a film? Certainly our barometer trends to one end or the other depending on the film in question, but when is it too much? To some people, if the upcoming Batman film The Dark Knight Rises doesn’t satisfy their particular expectations there will surely be riots.
    Ask any Star Wars fan born before 1990 about the Prequels and you’ll feel the white-hot heat of their rage melt your face clean off. (“Close your eyes, Marion!”)
    Now ask someone who was born after that. It’s quite possible they liked Jar Jar Binks, and the horrible pod race, and the nonsensical dialogue... See? A great deal comes down to personal preference, sure. But when prefaced by a predecessor that has deep roots in the cultural psyche new work of this nature is doomed from the start.
Copyright: Disney Co.

2. The Tent-Pole Ennui.
    The budget of this film killed this film. It’s true. It’s reported that John Carter would have had to have banked at least $300 - $500 million at the Box Office to break even. However, at last count domestic B.O. was in the upper 60s. But, of course, what kind of film would it have been without the astronomical costs of modern film making?
    Setting aside the costs of CGI and motion capture: film making, as a business, has become astoundingly cheaper in the past two decades. No more expensive film stock, no more processing costs. Cameras are cheaper, production turnaround is faster and more efficient. An indie film shot in the early 1990s would be at least four times as much as it would cost to do today. Throw in some decent CGI and then maybe the budget comes closer to about half as much. But why was so much money thrown at this script? Marketing is a large part of it. But I’d say it’s two things: the first being the common disease of studios placing all their cash in sure-bet “tent pole” films they deem to have the least amount of risk; and the second reason is the democratization of film.
    Have you noticed yet that most minor studios and indie companies have either shut down or been absorbed by the larger studios? Hell: have you noticed how many major studios of the late 80s and 90s have gone under? The economic crisis has forced the film industry to the edge of the cliff in many respects. It’s culled the industry down to the quick and the studios left standing are jumpy. Why spread the money out among a slate of mid-budget spec films, when you can make more money off a pre-sold franchise with a strong fan base and guarantee the funds for a blockbuster slate next year? Then, throw in a couple of Sundance darlings bought outright for next to nothing to round out the year in time for Oscar season. VoilĂ ! Distribution.
    The studios have cut out the majority of their risk this way, so even when a giant bomb like John Carter happens, they can recoup the loss fairly quickly and push out another Pirates Of the Caribbean to defray the cost.
    This strategy has made spec sales plummet since their heyday of the mid-1990s. It has also cultivated an audience who must justify an expensive movie ticket with the promise of eye-rending spectacle. An audience who has grown weary of tent pole films.
    On the other side, along with cheaper costs of film making, the internet and film festival culture have gone a long way to democratized the art form.  But even though the gate keepers of time and money have vanished the easiest way to cash in on this industry is to start a film festival or a 12-hour, 24-hour, 48-hour competition. ( These competitions, to me, are no better than throwing your money at a pyramid scheme from a pamphleteer in the mall.)
    The surge of aspiring, young filmmakers created by these conditions now buffet these fests and competitions like sperm trying desperately to breech a diaphragm. Ultimately we know the outcome: the studios have the pick of the litter after the festivals have vetted them through the dog show and the judges have give their marks. A majority of the filmmakers are happy just to have their work seen, paying for the privilege for each and every festival entered.


3. The Disney Marque.

    Disney putting its name above the title of the movie poster killed John Carter.
It put the film in a lukewarm position and pressure to conform to certain expectations. I’m not saying the film should have had a harder rating. There are gory moments in the film: decapitations happen, arms are cut off with swords, people are zapped into a fine blue mist, but going in assuming it’s going to be a “Disney” film hurt more than it helped.
    With Disney you get the budget, the cameras, the CGI, the locations, the stars you want and need to put butts in seats, the Disney Glow... But the rear edge of the sword is that there are moments when it seems the filmmakers were holding back despite the visual decadence. I felt the same way about The Muppets. Disney’s acquisition of that franchise (See? There’s the built-in audience.) ground down the edges of wit that made Kermit and Co. so special and banked on nostalgia to sell tickets.
    However, Disney is perhaps the only modern studio working that can eat a loss of $250 million and burp up sunshine. But could John Carter have happened with another studio with a smaller budget and more risk? I think so. The scale of it would have shrunk, but I think perhaps the avoided and unintentional stigma of “Disney” could have given it a better chance of breaking even.

4. A Whole New World.
    We don’t want straightforward adventure movies any more. We want the dark and edgy. We want to see our anger and fear of economic collapse and terrorist crisis come to an edible catharsis. We want the zombie apocalypse and the f--king Batman! Not swashbuckling.
    And it’s not really our fault. The above factors coupled with the reactionary nature of the art form has lead to this current period in cinema. I honestly believe that if Raiders Of The Lost Ark had been released today instead of 1981 it would have tanked, too. Our escapism has evolved teeth to survive the marketplace.

What could have saved John Carter?
    Perhaps nothing could. Perhaps it’s a victim of it’s time and in 20 years we’ll see a remake/sequel/prequel pop its head out of the ground.
    But, a different distribution model and a reformed way of how the industry operates can save future films from the same fate. Hollywood is now behind the curve and is having fits to catch up. Internet content is gaining legitimacy. Crowd sourced funding is catching on. New venues such as Netflix, perhaps even Apple, are looking to add original content to their repertoire. All this will force the Studios to break the tent poles down and throw their money in the ring with the smaller guys again to watch the dogs fight.
    Re-focus on commissioning and purchasing original content rather than going “all in” with adapted work will help, too.

    And, in 20 years, the festival scene will be dead, streamed content will be king and we’ll be buying designer tin foil hats to keep Jaws 19 from beaming in to our skulls.

21 February, 2011

Pop Culture Poetry #1

Copyright IGN.com, et. al


Hi! welcome to Pop Culture Poetry!

You give me the topic and the poetic form and I make a poem for you! A terrible, terrible ( sometimes enlightening) poem.




Today I give you a poem about an older wizard's reminisces of his salad days. I call it:
Copyright Warner Bros.

Portkey Of My Heart
Form: Free Verse--

Fondly I look back upon those Hogwarts days,
Idly on the flowered hills while hypogriffs
soared above in azure skies.
The enchanting scent of her hair,
Her impassioned love-cries:
"Engorgio! Engorgio!"
Stolen moments under the quidditch stands,
She fondled my bludger so delicately.
Immortal words were whispered that day,
She gave to me her one gift everlasting:
The Magic Clap.



If you want to see your requests twisted and tortured for your entertainment, email me at:

AskJohnBlog@gmail.com.

30 January, 2011

Robotics and design.

Property of the BBC

















What form would a robot take if designed by another robot?

I’m sure I’m not the first person to ask this question. I’ve always been keenly interested in design, it’s form and function. Function dictates design and from this comes the form. The simplest example is a spoon. It really requires no more evolutionary changes, and looks elegant; even being immortalized in pop culture: “There’s no spoon.”

I remember stumbling across a website that discussed the form and function of the camera. Cameras, as you know, are boxy, awkward, and often heavy. Whether it be a point and shoot or an actual 35 mm camera, they all contain that similar shape and dynamic of rectangularity. It served the purpose of holding and exposing the film roll.

But now that film has been replaced, by an large, by digital media, is the same form factor still required; or is there a better shape: spherical, perhaps? Smarter men than I are no doubt hard at work finding that better shape.

Back to robots, then. That familiar design of the bipedal, anthropomorphic robot that mimics us everywhere. We see it all over pop culture, we make them dance, even tell jokes.

It’s mimicry that’s the best evolutionary tool. It’s how our culture survives. What fascinates me, then, is when robotics become as sophisticated as natural evolution what shape will be created? Will it follow along natural guidlines and appear like us, or as cockroaches, or something completely new? I hope what comes about is beyond our expectations and opens us up to a larger world of how to go about designing our universe.

25 January, 2011

That 50th page and the collaborative process.

45 pages. That's half a screenplay.

That's exactly where I am right now, chasing that illusive 50-page watermark that let's me know I'm over half-way to my goal of a solid 90-page first draft.

This is my first full-length screenplay. I've written numerous shorts and a handful of full-length plays. I know the process well, but that doesn't make it any easier to write.

What makes writing a solid story so difficult?

Lack of research is one one way. I've spent almost two years researching for another screenplay that I put in a drawer to write this current one. Now I'm knee-deep in researching this one.

Another hurdle is not hearing what your characters say; how they act, what their motivations are. You can write character bios to get to know them, or an exercise I learned and find works well is to sit at a table, put them in front of you, and type out a conversation with them. This particular exercise worked well when I was writing my second play. The protagonist was too passive ( a pitfall of a lot of modern stories being written today ), and I wasn't 'hearing' her voice like I wanted. The crazy thing was that when I sat her down face-to-face she immediately came to life and I found her to be quite belligerent. She talked and I listened and when I had finished writing I had not so much made up a conversation but transcribed the thoughts and opinions of someone that wanted something, and I knew what that something was.

Not knowing your ending. The last act informs the first. Even if it's a line, or an image, or a feeling you're going for; have some kind of idea where you want to leave these characters. You'll be writing yourself in circles if you don't.

These are common maladies of the writer. The one personal frustration I have is middles. Most of the time I know the beginnings and the ends and in the first draft of most of my scripts is this line in bold:

Shit happens here.

... And it drives me mental. I sit and think and think about hurdles to throw in the protagonist's way. I re-read Mamet, re-examine wants and goals, and flirt with deus ex machina to get me through so I can put the damn thing down.

I found a technique that worked for me whilst writing my first full-length play. The play itself had started as a one act, and I wanted to push it to three. The odd thing was that I wrote both the second and third acts in tandem; bouncing back and forth between them. If I got stuck in Act II, I'd blow through more of Act III, and it worked.

The Collaborative Process

This is my first full collaboration with another person who has the "Story By" credit.

Most writer's say that writing is a lonely business. I don't believe that. It's not true, at least, of screenwriting and playwriting. There's just too many people involved in the process. The end product of what you see on stage or screen has the fingerprints of dozens of people no matter how auteur you may be. I embrace being collaborative. I need it. I tend to write myself in to walls, or rather, I get to a point where I mentally "can't see the forest for the trees" and need perspective. I have a couple of people I trust to give me that perspective. It's not cheating, it's the first step in communicating what's in your head to your intended audience.

This current script I'm writing is not only collaborative, but completely opposite to the normal things I tend to write and explore. It's a broad, coming-of-age, sports story intended for mass audiences, emblazoned with a PG-13 rating.

... And it's bloody hard to write, even with an outline. What makes it difficult is working inside the parameters set forth by all the peripheral forces enacting on the process. It has to be marketable, it has to meet the expectations of a certain demographic and the investors, it has to appeal to a broad age range. All these things are completely restrictive to certain stories you want to write. But at the same moment they're quite liberating. Shakespeare's language is so good because of the lack of Elizabethan art design. Back to the Future had a better ending because of budget limitations. Whatever the restriction, the way to work around it usually lends itself to better storytelling, I think.

As I put this story to the page I have found a greater respect for those filmmakers who can make a broad story work and satisfy their audience. Pixar does it so consistently and seamlessly they make it look criminally easy.  As does Spielberg, and Zemeckis and many others. The key to their success being collaboration.

Okay. Let me see if I can get ten more pages today.

26 August, 2010

Four things I do when I decide to sit down and write.

Lists. I love lists. the internet loves them, too. There are a gaggle of experts out in the electronic ether that will guide you through the trials and tribulations of your life in 5 to 10 easy steps. For me, I'll just share with you a handful of things I do to procrastinate when what I really want to do is sit down and write. Then, I suppose as a bonus, I'll share three things I do to get me in to a writing mood.

Four things I do instead of writing:
____________________________________________________


1. I stumble.

StumbleUpon is an app that allows you to stumble your way to random websites based on your tastes and preferences. for instance, I like technology, architecture, design and pictures of naked ladies, so you can usually find me watching TED presentations, checking out new artists like DubFX, or closing my laptop when someone walks up because I have bare breasts adorning my screen.

2. I Netflix.

I love Netflix. Absolutely and forever. I recommend it to anyone and everyone and, to me, no one can really match it in terms of value and convenience. However, having thousands of films and TV shows at my fingertips only serves to hinder any progress I might have with putting something on a page. It's sad that I have four Netflix-enabled devices sitting in my living room. --Five including my laptop.

3. I annoy my dog.

Like this:

Pillow avalanche! Where is your doggy god now?!















4. I do chores.

What's that old chestnut: "If you want to write, make sure your dishes are clean"? Yeah. I'm one of those people who needs a to-do list to check off before I can put my head in a place to think about anything creative. I envision it like that scene in Donald Duck in Mathmagic Land where Donald's mind is a filthy broom closet and needs to be dusted before he can grasp billiard geometry.


Three things I do to get myself to write:
________________________________________________


1. I write letters.

A couple of friends and I like writing letters to each other. It's a lost art, I think. Whether by snail mail or electronically, there's a certain finesse about the whole affair. Plus, it goes a long way to teach you the craft of writing: you have to know your audience, be concise, engage quickly and get out on a button. Check out some of the published letters of past authors like the Romantics or from around the world wars. Cool stuff.

2. I get out of the house.

Leave me in the house for a day and I'll maybe turn out a page of material. Put me in a public place with a good playlist to put me in the mindset and I'll increase that output by at least four more pages.

3. I do R & R:  Reading & Research

Find your local library and use it like a cheap dollar hooker. Nothing beats free, even if it's just a place to go that doesn't charge you $4.00 for coffee. The library in the town I'm living in is a bit pitiful, but it'll do. If you want a really fantastic place to accrue overdue fines I suggest trying out the Cerritos Public Library. This is probably the coolest library I've ever been in.

4. I blog.

It's a good way to stay limber.

26 March, 2010

The only question that has been asked of me so far....

What would you tell your high school self now?


Cut your hair. Pursue that singing career.

21 March, 2010

"Osbourne Cox? I thought you might be worried... about the security... of your shit." -Burn After Reading

A few days ago, my fiance, her mother, my dog and I were strolling along the beaches of the Georgia coastline when I spotted something in the sand dunes. It was small and white, and figuring it to be something like a bleached animal bone which are not too uncommon in places like that, I gave it a small kick to uncover it a little and poke around. To my surprise it was something completely different. It was an iPhone. Correction: It was a newer, better iPhone than the one I have currently. Now, I have to admit I had a personal, inner struggle for a few minutes and I feel I came to the right decision: I decided to keep it. .. Nah, just kidding. Actually, I logged on to this kid’s Facebook account (I discovered that he is a freshman in college) and posted a message on his wall, which has become a big hit with all his friends, apparently... This says it all:

“Dear Brutus, (name changed)

First of all, kudos, I found no naked photos or evidence of perversity on your iphone. Well done!

Secondly, a couple of tips for owning an iphone:

Password protect your shit. I know everything about you now and could serious wreck havok if I had wanted to.
Invest in MobileMe and it’s GPS finding function.
Don’t go wandering off on to a beach while high with a $700 phone.

Obviously this thing cost someone a lot of money and they would probably like it back, and that person probably wasn’t you. Thus, I’m sending it back to your dad. (who is very well spoken, by the by)

P.S. Stop doing drugs and use protection.

Love,

The guy who found your Iphone.”

17 March, 2010

John’s hierarchy of today’s entertainment

    Last week (yes, I am quite lax when it comes to writing things down), I laid in to a heated tangent about one of the absolute geekiest things you will ever hear come out of my mouth: I explained, in great detail, to my fiance why I preferred American Role Playing Games like Mass Effect and Fallout over Japanese, or J-RPG’s, like the just-released Final Fantasy 45, or whatever they’re up to now. The crux of the argument I made hinged on a couple of things which were; 1. Identity with the characters and story and how I felt American storytelling excelled in stories that grounded you somewhat in our reality. What I mean by this is that I prefer that my protagonist not be an androgynous waif like this:


But more this:



....Much more James Bond.

    Also, I threw in that I don’t like melodrama, and the fact that most of the FF games now have very sappy, falsetto love themes. This led me to muse over what a game is and ruminate on why I’ve never gotten emotionally attached to a game like most overweight LARP-ing recluses of my generation. (I blame my lack of social retardation, really.)
    I am also reminded of an argument I became involved in with an actor on a set last year in which we discussed why I think books trump film in terms of experience for the audience and what has the most impact on us as human beings. And lo, it was thus:

John’s Hierarchy Of Entertainment

1. Music
    Immediately powerful and present, the oldest of entertainments, music can recall a memory or image in the mind in mere seconds, tell a story in minutes, and stay buried in our flesh for a lifetime. It’s demands participation both to make and to listen. What I love about music is that it only truly exists in the moment that it’s created and is gone just as quickly; just like our lives are wont to be.

2. Literature & Poetry
    Why books? Besides being the de-facto source of critical thought for centuries, books are the purest of experiences because we are forced to use our imaginations to bring the text to life. (That was a bit obvious, isn’t it?) I place it on top because it causes one to exercise one’s imagination and prompts deeper study and understanding. It also demands concentration, which I’m sure is why a lot of people, especially young adults and children of the newer generation, find it hard to engage in anything more than 200 pages or on the level of the classics. It’s also tops because it is essentially a pure dialogue between author and reader, it contains genres but follows no mandated structure, and can take it’s time in building whatever point the author has to make. It’s a form of leisure that doesn’t quite fit in to modern American life anymore. Luckily there are podcasts and audiobooks to fill this void, and that takes us back to the even older oral tradition.

3. Theatre
    Whilst on the subject of oral traditions; coming from a life of experience both in front and behind the stage I can say that theater is the mid-step between literature and film. It’s also the second oldest attraction on the list, if you’re not counting games like chess, etc. Theatre’s strength is in the engagement of the audience. The fact that the players and audience are breathing the same air and participating equally with the opportunity to blow the entire illusion is magnificent and largely underplayed by society.
    There’s nothing like watching or being in a play when someone blows a line. It’s fucking magic. I’ve always had the urge to run up on stage during performances. It’s a weird tick that plagues me and surely would ostracize me from the theatre community if I let it happen, but the fact I can do this if I wanted and totally destroy or change the performance is what’s so appealing to me. Theatre, like a book, depends largely on imagination; especially when attending smaller theater productions. Lastly, the theatre also allows leeway as to the structure and topics of what you experience. You can get away with more, be more poetic, be more raw with emotions and have a greater impact on the shared experience because of the intrinsic mechanics of how the art form manifests. Lest we forget Shakespeare applies as literature, theatre, philosophy, and the basis for good filmmaking.

4. Film
    The facts that it’s a two-dimensional image that is physically separate from the audience and that stories must adhere to certain run times and be pigeon-holed in to genres are the biggest reasons why film is number four. The growing lack of creative interest by those running the industry and marginalization by the audience who’d rather pirate films than support their artists has constricted the young art form severely and left it in a stranglehold also plays in to this decision as well. There’s no room to innovate and grow. (And the 3D gimmick they’ve been pushing on us since the, what, 40’s? isn’t the answer either.) I can’t tell you what is, what I can say is that my argument for this list is that, to me, film is almost disposable and more forgettable than, say, a book. I can remember the book that made me want to become a writer, but not so much the film that prompted in me the desire to craft films. I can quote movies and deconstruct them to a point, but the endpoint of these exercises come far sooner than what I accomplish with literature or even dissecting good performances of theatre. Also, I’ve had the privilege on many occasions  to watch performances adapt and grow over a run whereas a film is a one-shot deal. Unless it’s remade or ‘rebooted’, as is the trend.

5. Games (specifically Video Games)
    Video games are popcorn. You consume everything until you reach the bottom of the bag and then throw it away. What else do you do with an empty bag that’s served it’s one-time use?
    That’s a harsh criticism, but I’ve been a video gamer, shamefully, for two decades. What all games are are pattern recognition and short learning curves. Mario and the sort I put in the category of quick-itch relief. A difficult challenge at a quarter a pop. Then we have Final Fantasy or Mass Effect who strive to become filmic, at best, but are encumbered by being manipulated by people like me who enjoy watching the characters take suicide dips off of cliffs or desire that most of the supporting cast be summarily rounded up and shot in the face. In terms of experience, VG’s are the most encumbered and one-dimensional of this small pantheon. Mostly building on worn stereotypes and pastiches of Campbell’s Hero Cycle, how well a game can cover up the inherent monotony of the gameplay with a decent story dictates my willingness to ignore  the “go fetch” quests, terrible battle schemes or sheer inanity in which I’m wasting away my life and money.

In summary: Yes, I’m a snob.

Addendum: I didn’t include art as entertainment because it’s only modern utility seems to be for parody or to distinguish class systems.

Addendum: For those who may argue these things: MMORPG’s, LARP-ing, shameless devotions to sci-fi and fantasy shows, and fascination with Nazis, housewife-made vampires and/or zombies et al. denote that you need therapy, social interaction and a treadmill.

05 March, 2010

Disney/Pixar's "Up" -2009

I am going to post a series of short essays about where I was in my life when I first saw a certain film and how it tied in to that moment. Intensely personal and very much biased to the faults of my memory, they are more recollection than film review.

    I simply have the most difficult time watching Pixar’s Up. It’s not that the film is horrible or unwatchable. Hardly. I think it’s possibly their best film with the exception of Wall-E. It’s just that the first five to ten minutes are completely unbearable and I’ll explain why.

    In late May of 2009, my father, who was ill with all manner of problems, began coughing up blood in copious amounts. Deep, rich, brownish coffee grind blood that comes from so deep inside that most of us never know it’s ever there. Much more important than the cut on the finger blood and almost as sacred as the monthly blood of future mothers, it came out of him in convulsions and wouldn’t stop.

    He had spent the night doing this, crying out for his elderly mother who was in the next room who called out for him, neither being able to reach the other. It was only on the morning after that one of the vagrants he let live on the second floor of his home alerted anyone outside to what was happening. When my mother, his first ex-wife, arrived and saw the human wreckage that was Dad he was rushed to the ER of perhaps the worst staffed hospital in the state of Georgia. Because of his worsening condition, my father received a complimentary upgrade from the windowless ER room to the ICU suite, complete with a sweeping window overlooking the street corner. They decked him in the finest array of tubes and scopes and sensors and this man who once towered over me in my youth now laid shriveled up and engulfed by warm sterile blankets on a bed that growled and beeped.

    It is important to know that this man who once pushed 250 lbs. was then a mere 90 lbs., give or take. His large glasses slipped off his face even when he was completely still. He lay in the bed for almost four weeks and I was solely responsible for every medical decision on his behalf. It was the second day in the ICU that I sat in my car in the parking lot of the hospital and broke down in sobs because I knew my dad was going to die.
    About two weeks in to his stay my family suggested that we do something that resembled normal to try and take our minds off of the matter at hand. That activity was, of course, going to see a movie; specifically: Up.

    The story is this: An old man wishes to fulfill his wife’s life-long dream of traveling to South America, so he retrofits his home in to a helium dirigible to travel there and the adventure happens. ...And it has a talking dog, and heart-felt moments and is utterly brilliant and wonderful... And the wife dies in the first five minutes in a montage that not only reminded me of my then current predicament, but forced me to imagine my future wife who sat right beside me in the same calamity. So I shamefully broke down in the goddamn theater, gulping down my emotions as to not disturb the other paying theater-goers.
    Otherwise; I loved the talking dog.

    I can now watch the rest of the film without conflict. I just have to fast-forward a little past the inciting incident. But, even then, when throughout the film Carl Fredricksen looks at his home held aloft by balloons, his reminder of his lost Ellie, I’m reminded of the last real interaction I had with my father. I walked in and his eyes turned from the nurse towards me and from underneath the breathe mask I could see a smile on his face and he winked at me. I asked him if he liked my haircut. He nodded shallowly and with care.

04 February, 2010

First Post.

Hello, everyone!

I'm John, and I'm here to answer your questions about... well, anything, really.

The purpose of this blog is three-fold: a continual writing prompt for me; a source of bi-weekly entertainment for you; and an engaging, interactive way to bring back the 'art of conversation'.

The only way this blog can thrive is through continual input from readers like you, and I encourage commenting below and putting in your two cents. Please, be a semblance of intelligence and civility. It's all I ask.
Well, that and proofreading.

Questions about cars? I'll answer it. Do you have questions about the stars, and bars and how not to name your first born child Larry? I can do that, too. Love life a wreck, or want advice about movies and music? Sure, I'll take a stab at it.

I can't promise life changing results, but I do promise honesty and the creative precision of a life-long smart ass.

I'll be building the site up over the next year, so keep in contact and we'll suss this shite out as best as possible.


Cheers,

John

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