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“You have to look at it as if you’re starting from scratch even if you’re not really doing that. I think when you get notes and stuff like that, and you’re trying to execute notes you have to find something inside the note that appeals to you and changes how you want to make the story to make it more interesting to you and look at it that way.” - Aaron Guzikowski.
A simple and great insight into the step of the process that I personally find the most torturous and generally confounding!
Just watched my second Ken Russell film last night with a bunch of friends — my previous only viewing had been Altered States.
Man, I’m not even sure what to record here. It was a pretty brilliant film. Absolutely bonkers too. The thing that stands out to me the most is the sense of spectacle, how Russell creates spectacle that is totally captivating and horrifying as is the point — the spectacle was created to control the masses in Loudun (the medieval French city where it was set). In sense, the only reason we are allowed to judge the masses in the film is because they make up the greater spectacle to us, the viewer. But really, what’s the difference?
Other observations: the set was absolutely spectacular. Apparently the stage designer spent three months building it and it shows — it’s like a medieval city mixed with some sort of medical/modern/pure aesthetic, clean white bricks — even as the plague ravages the city. The acoustics are notable too.
The acting. Every single actor was phenomenal, but of course Oliver Reed, Vanessa Redgrave, and a previously unknown actor to me - Michael Gothard - were standouts among the already strong crowd. Reed’s sermons were fiercely passionate and his introspective moments hypnotizing. I’ll have to check out more of his filmography, from Women in Love to The Curse of the Wolfman. Gothard, meanwhile, was the ravenous and basically insane Witch-hunter Barre.
Overall, the aesthetic was somewhere between The Seventh Seal and Grindhouse. My only single complaint would be the incredibly jarring editing in the second-ish act, intercutting between the witch-hunting and Grandier’s introspective journey. It was a bit absurd to say the least, but really in a movie where horrid absurdity is the point (for the sake of illuminating the dangers and hypocrisies of religion, society, and passion) it’s quite forgivable.
Finally, the script. Awesome. A mix of almost academic religious dialogue that’s made Shakespearean by Reed, and straight up badass lines like: (right before he’s about to be tortured) “Devils in pieces of wood now, Barre?” or the Baron’s line (by Dudley Sutton) “I also have a maxim, father: give me three lines of a man's handwriting and I will hang him.” or Louis XIII [shooting a prisoner dressed as a bird] “Bye bye, blackbird! or of course the famous line from the Baron to Grandier: “Hell will hold no surprises for you.” A grand indictment on the whole thing — what difference does hell hold from what Grandier (and all of us) has already experienced?
Alternately titled, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a KALEIDOSCOPE” (thanks, Wallace).
I recently met with a potential management rep and post-meeting he wanted to read some additional sample of mine. One of which is my old psychedelic noir pilot KALEIDOSCOPE. The real issue is that there was so many damn versions of the thing I can’t figure which one to send him. So, I narrowed it down to two options: the most cable-leaning, surreal, original version vs. the slightly more concrete, network-facing procedural.
Having just re-read (most of) both of them, I was sort of jarred. The original version, the one that I went fully on instinct was, well, rough. It had some of the best visual imaginations I’ve ever come up with, and the plot at its bones was interesting, but it really got clouded by something. Just that visceral experience of starting to get slowed down by the narrative writing style, I don’t know whether it’s because I just knew less about writing or because I was so caught up in my own show’s fantasy. But what’s even stranger is the second version that reads like a Eli Edelson attempt at a 2000s procedural. It doesn’t really sound like me, but it does read better, somehow. It’s a bit of a dilemma, but always use the stronger sample - even if its less representative of me as a whole, it’s still a display of ability. It’s heartening to me, on some level, that no matter the self-branding issues or the output of new ideas, as long as you keep writing you do inherently get better - even if it’s a winding path that produces stories you’re not necessarily in love with. To trudge is to succeed, apparently!
I’m now on to reading my second P.G. Wodehouse novel, The Inimitable Jeeves, though some refer to it as a semi-novel collection of stories. The only issue is that I have no idea where this book stands in the collection of things, or what volume the previous one I read is — Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves! Though I have to say, it really doesn’t matter in the slightest. These stories (and novels, overall) just pop from thought to though, hilarious predicament to hilarious predicament. And furthermore, some Wodehouse achieves this sense of deep interior narrative into the anti-hero (Bertie)’s totally vacuous and superficial and hilarious perspective. The man is more or less a dolt, though hilariously witty in his doltishness. The reader can appreciate his daft wit while also appreciating his unreliable and unaware narration. It’s really a shock to read at first, how fast you can plow through his experiences while savoring the little moments of insight (or lackthereof). I feel there is a deeper meaning and resonance to Betram Wooster, though I’m not sure what it is yet. Something along the lines of a Taoist ideal, maybe? Nothing changes the man, though he overreacts to obstacles he also understands the way of the world and how little control he has over it. The least he can do is enjoy himself and make observations (and make fun) of it as he’s carried along by the strange currents of the society he finds himself in — all the while saved time and time again by the uber-valet Jeeves.
In preparing for an interview to be a potential freelancer writer for a podcast production company, I’ve dove in to that crazy wide field of content a bit deeper for context and research. Out of all the podcasts I listened to, the one that struck me the most was actually the one that had nothing to do with the genres of the potential hiring company. It was The Caliphate by the NYT. Such intricate and detailed reported on the rise and recruitment tactics of ISIS, but also an incredibly good story told through the interviews of a recruit and recruiter. It grounds you in a world that otherwise would be impossible for the average Westerner to access via their imagination. I think for that reason, and the humanity of the interviewees and story tellers, I was totally hooked.
I recently wrote another video essay, hopefully it will be completed and released around Thanksgiving. About how we’ve come to live in the time of elderly action flicks… here’s the intro:
“Sniper fire incoming through the windows. A motorcycle chase across a roof. Your daughter has just been kidnapped! Be honest, when you imagine the badass to save the day – who comes to mind? Are they old enough to get a senior discount?
Willis. Stallone. Schwarzenegger. These guys practically invented the modern-day action film. And now? They seem to be the only ones still in it – alongside latecomers in their age bracket like Denzel Washington, Samuel Jackson, and the incomparable “I-will-find-you-and-I-will-kill-you” Liam Neeson – with dad-aged super-spies like Tom Cruise & Daniel Craig fast on their heels.
We’ve come to live in the Age of the Retired Badass. How did we get here? And what happened to all the young bucks? Let’s find out who drew first blood. "
I’m in the midst of re-organizing my entire book collection and I severely underestimated how much of a task this would be… I’m not sure how many I own at this point, but the problem is no longer storage, finally (we got two huge new bookcases to add to the original tall one). The problem is organization. What I realized during this multi-day, still-ongoing process is that it’s really damn tough to decide what defines a book in terms of genre. I realized this because I’m trying to divide them by genre (and then alphabetical by author within each section) but it’s difficult to assert what most defines a book to me. I’m not even into the fiction (by short story vs. novel section, or just all fiction together? Poetry, screenplays, plays, etc.) but in the non-fiction there are more academic yet creative books, or essay collections, there’s memoirs that aren’t really memoirs but thought experiments. There’s travel books, wine books, cooking books, writing how-to books, the list goes on and on and it’s gotten to the point where I think I’ll have to start with a low bar for myself and evolve the organization as I evolve alongside it, understanding myself and what the books mean to me as I go. Sounds boring, because it is, but I can tell it’s an important thought exercise for me to always do.
(this isn’t even all of them, and there’s another black Ikea bookcase to the left off screen)
Well, the first round ended (10/12 - 10/14) - my prompt was: Location - Tobacco Farm / Genre - Ghost Story / Object - Bracelet.
I ended up writing a piece called The Curing.
Honestly I’m not sure exactly what I learned in the process of writing it other than it was a blast to do. There was an initial pressure, a panic, every idea I came up with felt too complicated to write within 2 days or too extensive to write within a 5 page limit. But, then you just truck ahead with whatever you’ve got and you improve as you go. By the end of the process I actually enjoyed trying to finish the story knowing I only had 2/3rds of a page left. It forced me to go back and cut things out, rephrase, reorient. No doubt the shortest version was the best version. If anything, this was a nice exercise to break back into the screenwriting world after a bit of a hiatus to focus on fiction writing and especially my video essays. It’s the sort of task I think I’ll force myself to do next time I feel intimidated or out of practice and need to return to a medium of any kind. Excited to see what the next challenge brings!
Well, I’ve finally started using my bicycle to full effect. It certainly prevents the same sort of meandering thought that accompanies walking. At least, it does in Los Angeles where there are almost no bike lanes and the drivers seem furious at your existence - if they’re even aware of it, that is. There’s more of a hyper-awareness of your surroundings. And biking home yesterday evening, from the AMC Century City at around 10PM (about a 20 minute bike ride) I noticed that there were only a few smells I kept running into across west LA:
a very aromatic sort of mushroom/fungus smells, like forest mushrooms yet I didn’t see any and have no idea what really could produce that in Los Angeles
marijuana, of all sorts of variety from the buttery smelling to the exceedingly skunky
laundry, just lots of fresh laundry smell
maybe at times, with a strong breeze, a bit of ocean air (though probably that was wishful thinking)
Either way, it’s interesting how the type and speed of movement affects the type of thought. The faster you move the less you think, but perhaps the more you notice.
Just added a Non-Fiction writing sample section to the website! Only have the one link to an event correspondence I did, as a sample, but more to come soon — of the visual variety…
