American Samurai

This is an idea for a weekly webseries that I pitched to a company with a new digital channel (I'm writing video essays for them right now). I don't think they're moving forward with new series at the moment, and this was the least likely contender of the ones I pitched, so I just wanted to save it here: 

AMERICAN SAMURAI

Logline: Why has this striking aspect of Japan’s history captured the imagination of the western world? This series explores the complex ways America (and the west) has at times honored or appropriated the Samurai – through films, television, comic books, fashion, and even food.

Format: Video Series

Synopsis: In the vein of Nerdwriter1 or Channel Criswell’s programs, but with an in-depth dive into a more specific theme, “American Samurai” takes a single, recognizable world (and history) and explores it across all of American culture – with a weight especially towards cinema and graphic novels.

Why does the idea of the Samurai resonate within our culture? And to what extent do we appropriate and simplify its history for our own ends – a part of the larger “orientalism” problem? And does the river flow only one way – or are we only absorbing an idea already adapted and revived by the Japanese people?

“American Samurai” would hold appeal for both fanatics as well as the casual viewer, since it covers such a broad array of pop culture and history alike – all of which would supply a rich visual foundation of videos, images, and interviews for the substance of the videos themselves.

Take for instance the first obvious reference, Akira Kurosawa. His prolific work has gone on to infuse the west with samurai culture and inspire countless remakes. Yojimbo inspired Sergio Leone to make A Fistful of Dollars, Seven Samurai to Magnificent Seven, Hidden Fortress to Star Wars.

Was it just plot that was lifted out of a feudal Japanese setting – or were their intrinsic philosophies (Bushido, stoicism) too? What was it about these ideas that connected so well with the American audience time and time again?

But complicating things further, was that Kurosawa himself drew from western noir classics like The Glass Key – making his version of samurai a thing unto themselves. Cinema is certainly a rich playground for the series, from Melville’s Le Samourai to Jarmusch’s Ghost Dog, Tarantino’s Kill Bill to the potentially problematic The Last Samurai or 47 Ronin (and countless others).

In addition to movies, there is a wide array of other areas to dissect and discuss: television (Samurai Jack), graphic novels (Frank Miller, Lone Wolf & Cub), food (themed restaurants), to fashion and even martial arts.

Beyond pop culture, this series would seek to go back to the historical roots and condense them for a contemporary audience – classic Japanese texts like Bushido: Soul of Japan, The Unfettered Mind, and The Demon’s Sermon on Martial Arts. What has changed from these powerful texts and Samurai in feudal Japan, to our depiction of them today?

As a series written by an American, “American Samurai” would not position itself as an authority on Japanese culture – but seek instead to identify and discuss the ways in which America has engaged with it. Hopefully in such a way to teach and inspire the audience to learn more.

Continuing Series Potential: Beyond Samurai, the series could expand (in a “seasons” type of format) to explore other cultural histories that have osmosed into American culture: Native American traditions (e.g. sports teams), Norse/Viking mythology (e.g. biker gangs), etc.

 -- there were a whole bunch of images that went with it, but I'm just going to re-post the one that does the most work here...

Resurgence of the Classic White Patriarchy Show?

Succession (HBO), The Son (AMC), Yellowstone (Paramount Network). In different ways, these new shows are all relatively successful for their networks. They're all certified "prestige" and Son and Yellowstone are certainly epic in scope. They're part of the flagship of their home networks -- Yellowstone especially which is their first big release since Waco. They come after a string of failed shows in their vein like Blood and Oil (ABC).

It's a bit odd, no? They're all founded on classic white patriarchal clans who have risen on the strengths of their sins (monopolization and oppression, violence and backstabbing, disregard for the common man). I get that the creators behind these shows are trying to undermine the various forces and stereotypes -- The Son and Yellowstone both feature rebellious older sons who dare to be with a woman of "the other race" and that makes things tough for them, as well as for their harsh yet caring fathers. Well, boo hoo I guess? 

I say it's odd that these are in resurgence right now because they come at a time when transgressive and format-bending shows are on the rise (Atlanta, Random Acts of Flyness, Vida, and so many others). But these C.W.P. shows aren't some reflexive, way-of-the-Dodo rejoinder to what's happening in society now. In fact, they're trying to stay relevant. As I said, they want to undermine their own stories. We don't admire the family in Succession, we're supposed to laugh at them. I'm not sure about The Son but we can safely assumed the patriarch's brutal and ancient values will ultimately lead to his destruction. Yellowstone I've barely watched any of, so I'm not the authority, but it feels like we're supposed to be equal parts in admiration and judgment of Costner's head of the ranching clan. They're all bad guys, for sure. But we're still all in, watching them up-close for 10-12 hours a season. So, what's the takeaway? 

Personally, I think the creators of these shows want to frame these stories as "lessons on America" or "historical learning" but that is problematic. Yes, Succession could be teaching us the ways of the .00001% of our corpocracy -- how they behave, their flaws, their detachment from humanity. The Son can illustrate through a historical lens, the barbaric nature of American expansionism, jingoism, and evolution of white power. Yellowstone may indeed show us a mixture of the two other shows; how does lingering white landed power maintain itself in the face of racial empowerment and a rising corpocracy? Is that relevant to America today? Sure. But the flipside is that we are only into these stories so much as we are empathetic to these characters. Is whatever lessons they're trying to teach us worth us learning to root for these nasty vestiges that we're so desperately trying to shed in reality?

It's intoxicating to watch carefully constructed power -- and these shows do a convincing job of making classic white patriarchal families with the history of America behind them... well, seem like the most powerful thing in existence. They are their own worst enemy, sort of thing. Externally, these families' internal "flaws" only contribute to its power. And I'm not sure that's a healthy lesson. What's more, the creators of these shows claim these stories are still relevant and progressive because they're asserting the death of these families in their shows. They're comedic, cathartic tragedies! I get it, but the way these storytellers are writing this tragedy -- the C.W.P. is like a great, cornered, wounded beast. It's never been so dangerous, so powerful, never been more potentially awe-inspiring in its anger and ability to destroy to defend itself. As a result, there's a heavy smell of admiration in the air. We know they're bad, we know they're doomed and therefore we're tricked into being comfortable rooting for them -- and not just rooting for them to fight, but to fight dirty. Because we know that's in their nature and so what's the harm if we're just rooting for the bad guy before they die? I think there is harm though. Hopefully the beast doesn't live much longer. 

Succession (HBO)

Right now, Succession is one of the more popular shows on premium cable (at least, within my friend group). I've had friends from very different taste-groups rave about the writing, the acting, but more often than not they rave about the world. Specifically, isn't it so cathartic and devilishly fun to get access to the upper-upper echelon of society and watch them tear themselves apart?

Honestly, for me the answer is no. Ultimately what Succession focuses on is a group of people who have no discernible values, integrity, or personality beyond the desire to maintain or accrue money and power. There is some sad, dark humor that comes from their ineptitude to do so - but I find the humor is canceled out by the sheer repetitive, blunt ruthlessness with which they treat each other and everything. Relationships only degrade, temporarily propped up by Machiavellian alliances, nothing important is learned about characters' inner-demons, weaknesses, or strengths other than how it plays out in their battle to keep a generic media company running under their control. 

To me this isn't cathartic, or funny, or more importantly - it's not compelling storytelling. There's no character involvement of anyone outside the immediate family or at broadest, there's no one outside the upper-upper echelon world. So, we can reasonably expect that regardless of the "succession" or other calamitous situations that form the backbone of the show -- it will only take place in a small box made of mirrors. Meaning, the show has a claustrophobic setting -- everything just reflects and refracts off the similar main characters behaving in the same way to get at the same thing.

I get that there's an obsession with power that inherently makes this interesting to some audiences. But the power of the head of a media conglomerate really isn't the focus on the show, as far as I can tell. We don't witness the great actions they can instigate with the swish of a pen, it's more about making the swings of stock prices and who-gets-what-board-seat feel like great actions and forces. But, man, isn't that dry? And when it's only despicable, frantic, hopelessly egotistical people that are feeling these forces - who cares?

There's still a lot to like about the show. The actors bring a vitality to it, regardless. The aesthetic is a calm, cool, corporate sort of thing -- it doesn't focus on the ostentatious wealth and textures that come with it, rather it wants to imply that they're so rich we don't even need to get into that. It's well balanced between the various despicable family members, we definitely get perfect amounts of time with each one but in the end it just doesn't help me care. Or more specifically, I can't find a reason to justify my watching this show. 

So, my next task is to understand why people like it so much more than me? Is it because they only need the fireworks of a destructive, uber-family to enjoy an hour of TV? I'm sure there are character arcs that'll form past ep 3 (as far as I've gotten), but they won't be arcs I'll care about. But, other people will. 

And honestly, the old-man (and simultaneously lefty-liberal) voice in my head says: should we be worried that people are enjoying this show? If we're watching a whole show just to enjoy a family imploding because it's cathartic to our social and economic environment... well, that's a problem. If we're watching the show to want to feel the rush of being a soul-less, power-obese maniac... well, that's a different but equally problematic drive. Or if we're watching it to neither enjoy the schadenfreude nor be the surrogate, then why are we watching it? Because we feel it'll teach us something the upper society we live under? Or about American culture? We don't need to understand inequality and machinations in this way, do we? We already know it's wrong, it's destructive and oppressive. So, why get so close so as to be empathetic? Regardless of the reason, the vicious humor teaches us a lesson I don't think anyone needs to learn right now. To angrily laugh at characters whose own angry humor is their only defense says something about us -- and it's probably not a healthy statement. 

I'm going to do a follow-up post tomorrow about this weird resurgence of the Classic White Patriarchy Show (Yellowstone, the Son, etc.). 

Breaths Between Drafts

Currently, I'm working on a development project that's moving at breakneck speed. It's a serious learning experience for me. Specifically, working on revisions and taking huge notes with only a day or two max to apply them. My present mindset is that it's going to be a failure, but I think that's a standard writer's response when they're way out of their comfort zone. We can't really know how your work will come across when you've just barely emerged from writing it. The important lesson I've learned is that there is true value to taking long breaths between drafts. One day to absorb the notes, and to forget what you wrote -- let the optic residue of it burn away. Then another day to review the notes from a thousand feet up, rather than think about them practically. Another day still to start mapping out your true blue prints for changes, maybe discuss them. Finally, the time needed to apply them meticulously. When you have a third that time, for me at least, I lose the value of a bird's eye view and end up repeating some of the same mistakes in different ways. But as I said, we'll just have to wait and see what happens with the last draft.

TV Influences (2018)

As I did with the authors I'm reading now, I just wanted to throw down some current TV having an impact on me so I can look back on this later: 
 

Atlanta - FX

Castlerock - Hulu

The Expanse - SyFy --> Amazon

The Punisher - Netflix

The Terror - AMC (already waiting for the right moment to re-watch this superb creation)

Shows I'm waffling on: Lodge 49 (AMC), Succession (HBO), Snowfall (FX)

Schedule

This is one of those days where I have nothing I'd really like to write about -- probably, I've burned myself out working on a couple projects since early morning (and more to come after) so I have nothing real to contribute here. 

So, I've just decided to post a photo of my messy, antiquated, odd schedule book... you know, for posterity's sake?

Just a day in the life.

A Prayer Before Dawn

Just saw this film, based on the true story of Billy Moore -- an English man who was jailed in prison in Thailand and became a successful Muay Thai boxer for the prison's team. 

It's a powerful, disturbing, and visceral film that is intensely focused on bodies. Controlling one's body through violence, or losing control to addiction. It's also about healing, how we can put the power of our bodies towards healing ourselves and others. There's as many close ups of violence (against the self, and others) as there are of bodies healing (the athletes massaging each other, other forms of intimacy, and an amazing scene of someone getting tattooed). 

This is all to say, there's almost no dialogue. And much of the dialogue we hear is in untranslated Thai. As a writer, it was fascinating to watch. Trying to ascertain how much of the story and what ended up on screen to the actual screenwriters. My initial take is that they carefully calibrated a sort of montage, blurred narrative, of scenes that make up the film - in which Billy's internal state of mind is rarely clear, but his physical actions define who he is. When he commits violence for drugs, violence to protect a friend or himself, when violence drives him to take drugs, etc. It'd be a brilliant and difficult writing exercise: tell the full story of a protagonist with no dialogue, with no internal translation of their state of mind on the page - how attached can we get? Turns out, potentially, it can be very affecting - and very brutal. Of course it's heavily director-dependent, but the way Sauvaire utilized close ups in combat, established a jarring rhythm with the sound dynamics (when things are muted vs. blaring, music vs. quiet) -- it all adds up to an incredibly intimate and involving experience. If you have the stomach for it, I highly recommend! 

DUNGEONS & DRAGONS

After a painful six year hiatus, I'm finally playing Dungeons & Dragons again. Last time I played was senior year of college, I DM'd two games simultaneously - one group with 8 players, another with 5. It was ambitious to say the least and a total blast, albeit very tiring. 

These days, I'm waiting for a potential job on a new show to come together at the end of the month (hopefully, fingers crossed that it gets greenlit) and just writing as much as I can in the meantime. That means writing these posts, writing video essays for Skybound, working on a series document & pitch for a digital company, and of course trying to write more TV, features, and fiction all the time. And, now, finally D&D too.

I'm leading a group of close friends, 7 players total, and man is it fun. But it's also sort of surprising to see how I create an adventure and storyline now that I've evolved as a writer. It's way more world building and subplots than I remember ever doing growing up or even in in college. The mechanics of 5th Edition feel pretty different, so that's just a natural change (pretty well constructed game play, I'd say. Nicely done, Wizards of the Coast). I'm remember how to act, inhabiting the roles of every single character they encounter, which are fun muscles to get back. But more importantly, it feels like I had forgotten the number one most important skill as a dungeon master -- improvisation. It's all well and good to write down every little detail in advance, but you sure as hell can't remember it all when the times comes and you can't inundate them with every morsel of information too. There'll be no story, you lose momentum and interest. Better instead to know the world for your own sake and see where the spirit of the players takes you. And the amazing thing about D&D is you don't just know your audience, you're directly feeding off them for your own creative process.

For example, my players freed some refugees tied to a tree by bandits who posed as soldiers. The refugees led them back to their encampment which was a rag tag group of peasants who had been stripped from their homes. At the encampment, my players spent a very long time gathering information -- tapping into all sorts of potential plotlines. A refugee leader who wants their help leading a caravan to a supposedly safe land. A sketchy smuggler who wants to steal from the refugees and bring it to a nearby city. Mysterious Dwarves who have magical items. In the end, after lots of talking and bartering, and my feeling that the players were losing steam, something amazing happened. They freaked out the Dwarves, pressed them too hard, and instigated a little defensive spellcasting on the Dwarves part. Things continued to escalate as they tied the Dwarves up, deciding to search their goods. That was all I need, the chance for stakes, for things to really get out of hand. I had the smuggler try to get involved, make a buck off the thievery of the Dwarves, and then things escalated again, naturally. The players ended up attacking him, and he raised the alarm - trying to rat on them. One of the players (my wife, who is awesome) cast a crazy spell that made it sound like a booming voice was shouting in Infernal (devil-speak) from above. From my storyteller's P.O.V., the fuel had just been lit. The refugees lost it, thinking they were under attack and feeling P.T.S.D from their previous marauding experiences. Chaos ensued, and the characters all reacted in their own ways - whether it was taking advantage or getting into trouble or protecting themselves. All the backstory, the details, the plotlines, well they weren't exactly buried under an avalanche of action but they were no longer important. A new flavor had been introduced and it was all the sweeter because of its disregard of expectation. The expectation to pick a pre-set path, or even act in a certain way. 

And that's a lesson I'm really going to try to remember for all my writing. Obviously the process and experience isn't the same, sitting down and writing a book in isolation or something, but you can still transport yourself into the reader's eye as you go. You can remember what draws a person into a story -- what surprises them, and use that instead of sticking to only what you enjoy creating, like the details or mythology or backstory... Destruction of expectations is always thrilling. 

The final lesson is just that... the more you do something the better you get. D&D is writing, it's story creation. The more I do it the better I feel creating other worlds in other formats, even if the challenges are different. 

Also, I will say that D&D presents an interesting challenge in regards to "character arcs" -- you don't really need to focus on that at all, it's up to the characters. But to try to catalyze them to change, to offer environments or cues or clues that might spur or trick them into transforming themselves and the way they act in the game... that's a beautiful challenge in and of itself. 

The Handsome Family - Beautiful Stories

Ever since True Detective season 1, which used Far From Any Road as their intro theme song, I've been a big fan of the Handsome Family band. Of course they've been around for a long time before that, but I had no idea they existed - just like Alabama 3 until their Sopranos theme song wide-debut. Anyways, Handsome Family's music has been described as alternative country. I've heard them called "Hank Williams meets Edgar Allen Poe." They're a duo, married couple Brett & Rennie Sparks. 

Their style is haunting and beautiful and sometimes rousing music, always with a folksy country backbone, but above all I absolutely love their lyrics. I tend to listen to music with a writer's ear, getting joy from the literal poetry of the song again and again no matter how many times I've heard it. Even if I've memorized it, the performance and emotional acting of the singer re-tunes me to it again and again. 

With Handsome Family, they not only create lyrical poetry but damned good stories with a crazy thematic power to them. Here's three songs that continue to blow me away in this regard: 

Weightless Again

So Much Wine

Drunk By Noon

In Weightless Again the metaphor of the "Indians" who "forgot how to start a fire" travels throughout the narrative, just as the narrator describes himself (or herself) and his partner traveling throughout the forests of California. The chorus subtly implies the narrator contemplating suicide over the loss of the romantic feelings with his partner. It's never overt, always wistful and freely associated. Just beautifully constructed as a piece of poetic flash fiction. 

So Much Wine feels more classically structured like a country song, but again employs powerfully simple similes (the dying meteors, the sad shining eyes). Someone wouldn't normally look at a shooting star and think, "there goes something dying in the sky" -- but this narrator's life is so wrecked by the person they love constantly self-destructing, that they're projecting -- a beautiful thing is now beautiful because of it's self-destruction. And then, to remember the person's eyes - the key to the soul, as if they were burning the life of their eyes out. So compact and effective. And the chorus... amazing. 

Drunk By Noon is one of my favorites. Every line feels like it could be the title of a short story. See the chorus:

And if my life was as long as the moon's
I'd still be jealous of the sun
And if my life lasted only one day
I'd still be drunk by noon 

The song seems to be about this person, painfully frozen in place, terrified and excited for death and wholly aware of it all the time. At once comforted by their nihilism while also being fixated on it. And they infuse it with this rollicking country rhythm, almost like they're darkly laughing the whole way through. Brilliant and honestly terrifying. 

I might say it's less Hank Williams - Edgar Allen Poe, more Johnny Cash - Denis Johnson. The Handsome Family doesn't mess around!