The Wild Bunch

Should we study and look up to greatness even if seems outdated vis a vis today's screenwriting standards?  This question came up during tonight's #scriptchat discussion of the Chinatown screenplay and continued for a couple of hours later.  I will elaborate in the next post.  But for now, since I referenced both The Wild Bunch screenplay and Rembrandt during the chat, I thought I'd post an article I wrote about this movie for an ezine I used to write for, which expresses my intense feelings for this masterpiece.

The Wild Bunch

Dir: Sam Peckinpah

1969

After seeing The Wild Bunch for the first time, my reaction was: "If this is a movie, then what have I been watching all my life?" I got depressed. Because there was no way I could even come close to such achievement, the film made me feel that I should quit making movies. I questioned my talent, my ability and above all, my courage. Six million dollars, 81 shooting days, 330,000 feet of film, 1288 camera set ups and 3,600 shot-to-shot edits later, Sam Peckinpah changed the face of cinema and my idea of what truly great filmmaking was about.

Peckinpah had been fired from his last film, and after three years of unemployment, The Wild Bunch was his opportunity to direct again. In its simplest terms, the story is about bad men in changing times, or as Peckinpah himself put it: "what happens when killers go to Mexico." It's an unrelenting, bleak tale about aging, scroungy outlaws bound by a private code of honor, camaraderie and friendship. The lone band of men ("the Bunch"), led by Pike Bishop (William Holden), have come to the end of the line and no longer are living under the same rules in the Old West. They are being stalked relentlessly by bounty hunters, one of whom is Pike's former friend Deke Thornton (Robert Ryan), who would side with the outlaws if it weren't for the threat of being sent back to Yuma Prison. In the bloody opening sequence, the Bunch ride into Starbuck, a dusty, small town. They hold up the bank and in the process annihilate the town. However, the job is a set-up: the loot they get away with is worthless steel washers. To escape the bounty hunters they cross the border into Mexico, where they agree to do a job for the dictatorial Mexican General, Mapache (Emilio Fernandez). It is to be their last job.

In the context of the times, the much-imitated and influential film was considered extremely violent.  It's impossible to determine whether it's the most violent "ever made," or if it was the most violent of its time, and the question is probably irrelevant. What can be said is that with the newly gained freedom attained through the development of the Code and Rating Administration and in the midst of a volatile zeitgeist, Peckinpah, with the help of the brilliant editor Lou Lombardo and cinematographer Lucien Ballard, developed a stylistic approach that, through the use of slow-motion, multi-camera filming and montage editing, seemed to make the violence more intense and visceral. Peckinpah's intent was to "take the facade of movie violence and open it up, get people involved when they start to go into the typical Hollywood/television reaction syndrome and then twist it so it's not fun anymore--just a wave of sickness in the gut."

Who would rob, kill, steal guns, give the guns away to the peasants and go back to rescue a comrade and die for him? Every Western tried pull off that story but it never worked. It's pure romance. Peckinpah's objective from the onset was to make that story work. The budget escalated and the producer, Phil Feldman, complained to Warner Bros. exec Ken Hyman, who gave Peckinpah carte blanche after seeing the footage that was coming in. Hyman knew something extraordinary was taking place in that Mexican village. Peckinpah and his crew were creating a full landscape in the fullest artistic sense; sequence after sequence, a whole world of themes and emotions play out without dialogue. Peckinpah's genius for improvisation produced brilliant sequences that materialized out of thin air. The Bunch's march to their death was a scant three-line description in the screenplay. Nobody, including Peckinpah, knew what he was going to do because he never formulated a shooting plan before arriving on location. Once he was on set, before you knew it, Peckinpah built and built and built until it became that scene. The climax, The Battle of Bloody Porch, is one of the most extraordinary sequences on film. Again, Peckinpah did not have a clue as to how he was going to shoot it. He had four cameras rolling for 12 days and, legend has it, Cliff Coleman, the assistant director, was so good that the stuntmen, actors and even bullets never missed a mark, making the sequence relatively easy to edit.

As is the case with all great artists, Peckinpah had an extraordinary ability to take what people really couldn't see and turn it into something extraordinary. As the Bunch reaches the Mexican border to take refuge in a village, Angel (Jaime Sanchez), the only Mexican in the group, recognizes differences from Texas at the edge of the border river, but not the Gorch brothers (Warren Oates and Ben Johnson). Their conversation points out their cultural differences and varied perspectives:

Angel: Mexico Lindo.

Lyle: I don't see nothin' so 'lindo' about it.

Tector: Just looks like more Texas far as I'm concerned.

Angel: Aw, you don't have no eyes!

That's Peckinpah speaking to the rest of the world: "you are not seeing what I'm seeing." Peckinpah was a man who wasn't afraid to look at himself as honestly as he could and to strip away the artifice that makes mainstream audiences tick. He really believed in who he was and what he could do. In a scene around the outlaws' campfire, Pike dreams of one final, successful job before retiring:

Pike: This was gonna be my last. Ain't gettin' around any better. I'd like to make one good score and back off.

Dutch: Back off to what? (No answer) Have you got anything lined up?

Pike: Pershing's got troops, spread out all along the border. Every one of those garrisons are gonna be gettin' a payroll.

Dutch (sarcastically): That kind of information is kind of hard to come by.

Pike: No one said it was going to be easy but it can be done.

Dutch: They'll be waitin' for us.

Pike: I wouldn't have it any other way.

I didn't quit. In fact, I always look to this movie to set me straight when I start to lose my way. Like Pike, I want to be able to say "I wouldn't have it any other way" and really mean it. The Wild Bunch is an uncompromising ballet in which the action, the detail, and the lives of the characters are as Peckinpah imagined they would be. After the final sequence of principal photography was completed, Bud Hulburd, the special effects engineer, remarked: "I just had the opportunity to hang a Rembrandt. It will probably never happen again." He was so right.

When Screenwriting Goes Wrong

I just received this email from the people that run the contest I just won:


"Please be informed that we have received countless emails and phone calls from one of the submitters to the Screenplay Competition. These emails and calls as well as her screenplay are incoherent and obsessive. We have tried many times to clarify to this person that the competition is over that her screenplay was not a finalist, but she continues to pursue calling and emailing. Now that names have been posted for both finalists and winners she is calling with questions about you and your screenplays. We are not answering any questions and have told her to cease contact. 

We are letting you know about this since the internet makes it possible to track people down through facebook, twitter, etc. Our strong advise to you is do not respond if you get any contact from her. She lives in British Columbia, Canada, her area code is (250) and her name is Anastasia S_______. [edited out]

Just looking out for you guys. Please do let us know if you hear from her, but hopefully that will never happen."

I've heard of people reacting badly to notes and criticism, but not winning a contest?   What surprises me the most is that she's Canadian. I thought Canadians didn't get angry.

Six Ways to Come to Terms with the Sad Truth that No One Wants to Read Your Blog

Ever since I can remember, I’ve had this recurring dream. (I just had it last night as a matter of fact.) Well, more accurately, it’s a horrible nightmare. In the nightmare and any variation thereof, my family and friends make plans to go somewhere together, without me. And then they take off, leaving me sobbing and bitching. They never seem to get what I’m trying to say. Not even my mother. Especially my mother. It hurts. It really hurts.

I used to write film reviews for an ezine. At the beginning, I forwarded the link by email and posted it on Facebook. After a few months, just Facebook. In a year, I heard back from three or four people. Tops. More often, I’d get: “Did you see Such and Such a Movie?” I replied: “Yes, I reviewed it and sent the link to you.”

“Oh.”

When I wake up from the nightmare above, I realize, once again, that I have to accept that being understood is overrated. I thought I had resolved that issue after I screened my last film for my parents. For 15 minutes, they watched quietly, eyes glazed over. My mother only showed signs of life when, as my brother’s name flashed onscreen as Production Assistant (he helped me move some very heavy props.), she said, “Oh! That’s your brother.”

Still, I get a high when a stranger sees one of my films or reads one of my posts and his/her reaction lets me know they got it. I screened the same film for my best friend’s four year old. She watched enthralled. When it was over she yelled, “Again! Again!” It doesn’t happen that often. But, in reality, it’s quality over quantity that matters.

So here are my words of wisdom:

1. Your family won’t read the blog, but they will give you blood and even a kidney if you ever need one.

2. Your friends won’t either. But they’ll help you move. If you corner them and offer them plenty of booze. Hopefully you helped them move, so can use guilt to persuade them.

3. To get people to read your blog, you’re going to have to read dozens of blogs telling you exactly how to make people read your blog. Do you really want to do that?

4. If you do read all that advice, are you really going to do all that stuff? Like read other people’s blogs and comment on them? I thought so.

5. You’re a real writer. You write because you need to express yourself. It’s an addiction. It’s who you are. Keep writing. Someday, someone will be moved by what you wrote, and if you’re lucky, they’ll leave a comment.

6. So just write goddamit!

Freebie: Go to therapy if you can afford it.

Gus Van Sant has seen my vagina.

I never write down my dreams, let alone blog about them, but this one is film related and I find it worthy of recording for posterity.

I transitioned from one dream to another and I found myself in a desert town that looked very Terry Gilliam-ish. There were a few people around and all of a sudden I spot Gus Van Sant.

I said, “Hey Gus Van Sant, what are you doing here?”

Gus answered, “I want to make a movie with that guy.”

He pointed at an old man that just sat there and was completely uninterested in his surroundings. So Gus asked me to help him make the movie. You can imagine how excited I was. My first impulse was to Tweet about it but I didn’t have a computer. Gus and I walked around the town trying to find cast and crew members.

We came up to a goofy woman and he said, “You! You’re gonna be the AD.”

I said, “Are you sure about that Gus?”

He said, “Any movie I make outside the studio system, I do like this.”

I said “Oh, that explains Gerry.”

I looked down and I noticed I wasn’t wearing a bottom. No pants, no skirt, no underwear. We continued on our search for cast and crew and although they noticed I was al fresco, no one said anything or seemed to care. To make matters worse, I kept on bending over to pick up stuff.

Gus and I then went to the “production office” which was a wooden shack right out of a Western. He had a laptop and I noticed he was already tweeting about the new film. I felt envious. I asked him if I could send a tweet and he said, “No, we’ve got a lot of work to do.” I sat down on the desk, legs dangling and as I look up I see Gus’s horrified face. I looked down and my legs were open.

He said, “Is that what it looks like?!”

I remembered that Gus was gay, so my panic subsided.

I told Gus, “Yes, but they come in all shapes and sizes.”

He said, “Oh.”

And that’s all I remember.

Maybe someone can enlighten me and let me know what all this means.

Contest vs. Coverage: A Perspective

Within the last few days I won a contest and was notified that I’m a finalist in another. Still, my contest anxiety continues. It started about a month before the Nicholl deadline. Because of unforeseen vet costs, I found myself having to look closely at my finances to try to decide which contests to enter. Somehow, I couldn’t shake the thought that I was just throwing money away, and, at this time, I just could not afford to do that. It didn’t help that I resorted to basic arithmetic and figured out the odds at Nicholl. (Number of Quarterfinalists divided by total number of entries equals five percent.)

Prior to this year, I haven’t really felt I’ve had a good enough script to line a birdcage, let alone enter contests. Well, I did enter Slamdance twice. The first time was many years ago when they were still using typewriters to type their coverage. I don’t recall much about the coverage I received except for two things:

1. You certainly have a knack for creating unique characters.

2. Anal sex on page 45? Really?


Really. I thought that Slamdance, of all contests, would appreciate such an edgy concept as anal sex on page 45.

The second time was about three years ago with a script that I thought was more clever and funnier than Sasha Baron Cohen and Ricky Gervais combined. I was sure the Slamdance reader was going to be blown away, that the coverage would be nothing but praise, and that I was going to be a finalist. I was more wrong than a Jimmy Dean Chocolate Chip Pancake & Sausage on a Stick dipped in Baconnaise.

I went online, retrieved my coverage and read it once. It sent me into a state of catatonia that prevented me from writing anything for months. One sentence was, and has forever been, ingrained in my mind:

Re protag: “… the weak, empty, emotionless character that is Franny, who fails to have an arc, and who, as the pages wind down, becomes more and more passive, until she is a mere reactor to events.”

Months later I read the trauma-inducing coverage again. I failed to notice the good comments, praise, and suggestions on how to fix the script the first time around. The script is funny and not all that bad, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that made an impression on me was THAT sentence. It made me take notice that without emotional connection (the STORY!) to the audience, the clever dialogue and the unique characters added up to nothing. The lesson was priceless and I’ve been trying to get in touch with my emotional side since then. Hence, the puppy.

Which brings me to one month ago. Staring at my online bank statement and hoping my balance would increase by the simple process of logging out and logging back in, I realized that I could not continue to think I was a smart person if I sent out the script without getting a professional opinion. I did the math, bought a 30 lb. bag of my dog’s fancy dog food and convinced myself that I could live on the bagels and donuts provided by my employer every Friday for the next two weeks. I picked a reader that listed Wong Kar Wai’s In the Mood for Love as a favorite movie (He’ll get me, I thought.) and submitted my screenplay for coverage.

It was disappointing. It was disappointing to have what I already knew confirmed. Somehow I thought the reader was going to tell me not to do what I knew I had to do but didn’t want to do: write the story others want to see, not the one I want to see.


This particular sentence has gnawed at me:


“While the basic concept, as described above, works well, this concept is not integrated into the story and structure on a professional level in this draft.”

I have to get to that professional level to attain my dream of being a working screenwriter so that I can stay home with my dog. Isn’t that what most of us want?


I rewrote as much as I could stomach but not as much as I should have and sent it to Nicholl and the other contest in which I am a finalist. The screenplay is better, but I’m still struggling with the rewrite. I’m stubborn, and I really need to stop watching those foreign art house films I love so much.

It’s great if you know writers and have friends willing to read your scripts for free and give you feedback. Still, if they are not working in the industry as writers, story analysts, producers, agents, etc., the feedback is not going to include the realities of the business. They don’t know what the fuck the Grid is. And, given this post , you better believe the FUCKING GRID is important.

Of course, you can choose to spend your money however you want. What I’m trying to say is: getting coverage before you submit (anywhere!) will save you money in the long run and given the odds, at least you’ll get something valuable in return. Knowledge. In contests, unless you make the cut, you are pretty much left in the dark.

I hope sharing my experience with you has been helpful. Please feel free to share yours.

And remember, no anal sex on page 45 or any page for that matter.  Now, unplug the internet and get to work.

Three Easy and Full Proof Methods to Get Writing Done.

Why do writers need to be reminded constantly that in order to be a writer you must write? It’s so fucking annoying.

I think the business of giving advice to writers must be very lucrative. Either that or we are just all a bunch of very generous folk who must spend their precious time telling other writers their methods on [fill in blank], especially on how to actually sit down and get writing done and retweeting quotes from famous writers on writing.

I just read five blogs on the subject. Among them, 13 Tips on How to Actually Get Some Writing Done and Five Tips on How to Become Allergic to Adverbs.

I am overdue on my contribution, so here it is.

1. Sit down. Turn computer on. Open a blank document. Put fingers on keyboard. Move fingers up and down and side to side. Ignore your dog who wants to go play fetch. Give her a huge bone to chew on when she starts barking. Sit your ass down again fast. Put fingers on keyboard. Move fingers up and down and side to side.

If No. 1 fails, try this:

2. Collapse face down on your bed. Bury face in your pillow. Start sobbing and punching pillow. Tell yourself what a loser you are for procrastinating. Tell yourself you will never finish that script, novel or blog post. Tell yourself you are lazy, sad sack and do not deserve success of any kind. Remind yourself about that talentless hack “friend” of yours whose screenplay entitled “Sunshine Millionaire” was made into a movie that got into Sundance. Remind yourself that hack is now “doctoring” scripts for Universal.

3. Repeat 1 and 2 as needed.

You’re welcome.

I Love to Hate Valentine's Day

I absolutely loathe V-Day. If you take into consideration that 85% of the Valentine cards are purchased by women, that leaves15% purchased by men and children. If you take statistics/polls seriously, that means 70% of those women get zip. It's sad and pathetic. It should really be called Horrible Service at a Restaurant Day or Cheap Stuffed Animal Made in China Day.

I spend this hideous "holiday" in the company of a bucket of lard, aka Chocchocchip Haagen Dasz ice cream and a favorite romantic movie. Yes, in many of the titles below, the lovers don't end up together. I enjoy pining and brooding via proxy. It's a guilty pleasure of mine and I subscribe to the notion that the artist must be unhappy to be creative. Hey, it works for me. So, you won't find Somewhere in Time, The Notebook or Sleepless in Seattle in the list below.



It Happened One Night (Frank Capra)

I fell in love with Claudette Colbert. There is absolutely no kissing or sex, yet it's one of the sexiest movies ever.



The Shop Around the Corner (Ernst Lubitsch)

I fell in love with Jimmy Stewart.



The Awful Truth (Leo McCarey)

I fell in love with Mr. Smith. Best comic performance by a canine ever.



Notorious (Alfred Hitchcock)

It's not about the evil Germans plotting; it's about those four-second kisses between Bergman and Grant. And they are not gonna be eating chicken.



The Apartment (Billy Wilder)

How can you not fall in love with Jack Lemmon, the best actor ever? The man could do it all.




Un Coeur en Hiver (Claude Sautet)

Even though he was a son of a bitch, I fell in love with Daniel Auteil and his character while watching this one. This is my favorite scene. Camille loses it completely, without any regard to pride. I'm envious. I wish I could do that.



Chungking Express (Wong Kar Wai)

I fell in love with Tony Leung when he started talking to inanimate objects.



In The Mood for Love (Wong Kar Wai)

I fell in love with slo-mo Maggie Cheung.



Annie Hall (Woody Allen)

The funniest movie about relationships ever. Actually, funniest movie ever.



Before Sunset (Richard Linklater)

I fell in love with Julie Delpy. The best scene Linklater has ever directed.



Two Days in Paris (Julie Delpy)

If she fulfills her potential as a writer-director, neurotic and hilarious Delpy may just be the female, French Woody Allen.




A Short Film About Love (Krysztof Kieslowski)

My kind of ending: satisfying because it does not have a conclusion.



Three Colors: Red (Krysztof Kieslowski)

Kieslowski made films that connected people and acknowledge a force that's greater than themselves.



Wings of Desire (Wim Wenders)

An angel would never choose to become human just to be with me.



La Notte (Michelangelo Antonioni)

I knew marriage was not for me after watching this one.



Scenes from a Marriage (Ingmar Bergman)




The Piano Teacher (Michael Haneke)

A strange type of love, but still, love.




Talk to Her (Pedro Almodovar)

A dance of perversity, longing and desire.



An Affair of Love (Frederic Fonteyne)

Yep, things are never simple between a man and a woman.





Something's Gotta Give (Nancy Meyers)

There are three reasons to watch this one. Diane Keaton, Diane Keaton and Diane Keaton.




All the Real Girls (David Gordon Green)

Green is not interested in disingenuous clichés and poses, and his rejection of the genre's most hackneyed conventions comes in the form of unabashed sincerity. The love-struck dialogue is spoken with the gravity that comes from people wholly enraptured by their newfound emotions.



Once (John Carney)

My favorite song and scene from the movie.



The Lake House (Alejandro Agresti)

Yep, I confess. I liked it. You know, I'm not a Keanu hater.



The Lovers on the Bridge (Leos Carax)




Children of the Century (Diane Kurys)

Juliette Binoche as Georges Sand. What could be more perfect?




Dolls (Takeshi Kitano)




The Last Mistress (Catherine Breillat)





The Horseman on the Roof (Jean Paul Rappeneau)




And, even though it's flawed, it's close to my heart since it was my first film.

Nocturnal Emissions, Part III

Boy wants girl. Girl talks too much. Love sucks.

They come in fours.

It’s not true what they say that deaths come in threes. Obviously they come in fours.


First one of my heroes, Howard Zinn, then that lady the played the ghostbuster in Poltergeist, J.D. Salinger and now…Miramax.

Sad week indeed.

Not the bees!!!

I just realized Film Independent’s yearly Directors Close-up series starts next week. I went last year, and with the exception of the directing actors session with Rodrigo Garcia, it was a disappointing experience. Mostly because the panels were moderated by Mary Sweeney who was a total bore. You would have never guessed she was a filmmaker that has worked with David Lynch (according to IMDB, they were also married) from the pedestrian and uninspired questions she asked.

Directors Close-Up Schedule

This year the moderation promises to be livelier. John August is passionate and committed to sharing his knowledge on the craft with other filmmakers and screenwriters. I’ve attended one of his panels at the WGA and he did not disappoint. The other moderator is Neil LaBute. And lucky me, he’ll be moderating the Writing and Directing Comedy session. I will sit up front, raise my hand, and wave it frantically until I get called on. I could not care less about his alleged misogyny. Nope. I will ask him what it was like to direct Nic Cage in one of my favorite comedies ever: his remake of The Wicker Man. Was the bear suit Nic’s or his idea? Was the line “Not the bees!” improvised or on his script? I know you’re thinking that’s rude. But I just need to know, what the fuck was up with that? Was it really UF (unintentionally funny) or is LaBute a modern day Douglas Sirk?



If you have not seen it, you must. I haven't seen the original, which is generally regarded as a good movie, so I'm tempted to sink the original to the bottom of Whoops! Ocean anyway, because obviously it resulted in the remake, but the parents can't be blamed for the sins of the child. Or at least that's what parents of shitty children are always telling everybody. There are many details of the movie that are hilarious. Such as the website Cage uses instead of Google to get directions. Or the part where he gets locked in a cistern and is probably going to drown, but just before his impending doom, he manages to fall asleep and have a nightmare. Or the part where he's a cop but he doesn't follow any normal legal courses of action that a cop would follow when a child has been reported missing. Or that he wears a jacket and tie throughout the whole ordeal only to change into a bear suit in the end. Or everything about this movie. This may be a horrible movie but it has more laughs than any intentional comedy these days. How can you not love the mysterious Summers Isle, which is populated almost entirely by Kathy Bates or Cage sidekicking a teenage girl into a wall and punching others in the face, or Mother Goddess Ellen Burstyn, face painted like an NFL fan, leading neutered male servants in a costumed fertility parade, or little schoolgirls chanting "Phallic symbol! Phallic symbol!" or Cage pointing a gun at a woman and threatening her with "Step away from the bike!" I'm convinced LaBute lost the thread of his original ideas, and, by page 15, decided to write a comedy by flailing out blindly hoping to accidentally reverse the tide of progress with a casual, intellectually misplaced beeyatch slap.


Here are some highlights of this almost-cult classic:





Will I have guts to risk getting myself escorted out of the theater, possibly even getting banned from Film Independent? Stay tuned.

P.S. If you think that directors just point the camera at Cage and let him go to town with his role, read the following gem and think again:

Cage: “So many directors are so arrogant. For example, Klaus Kinski -- who Werner Herzog has a legacy with -- he was very frustrated with the arrogance. We always hear Werner's side of the story about "Klaus was this and Klaus was that" but you never get to hear Klaus' side of the story. I was doing a scene (on Bad Lieutenant) -- it was in my second day of shooting -- and we all know the imagination and preparation (required) to think I was on cocaine (for the character). There was a little bottle of baby powder, and I'm snorting that. I'm psyching up, I'm psyching up, and he comes up and says (in German accent), "Now Nicolas, what is in that vial?" And I was like, "Are you kidding me? After four hours of this you're gonna actually ask me that? Take me out of my preparation? You would think the director would understand the actor's process and give us the space and the room to do what it is we need to do.”

This is hilarious on many levels, especially if you are familiar with Herzog. And why is it that it's impossible not to hear Herzog's lethargic Bavarian-accented voice every time he is quoted on print?

You're boring.

Poor Errol Morris.

I can relate. Sometimes I sound like John Kerry when someone asks me what my movie/script is about. Hilarious and harsh, but a good lesson nevertheless.

Transcript

MIRAMAX FILMS

August 23, 1988

Errol Morris
c/o The Mondrian Hotel
8440 Sunset Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA

Dear Errol:

Heard your NPR interview and you were boring. You couldn't have dragged me to see THE THIN BLUE LINE if my life depended on it.

It's time you start being a performer and understand the media.

Let's rehearse:

Q: What is this movie about?

A: It's a mystery that traces an injustice. It's scarier than NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET. It's like a trip to the Twilight Zone. People have compared it to IN COLD BLOOD with humor.

Speak in short one sentence answers and don't go on with all the legalese. Talk about the movie as a movie and the effect it will have on the audience from an emotional point of view.

If you continue to be boring, I will hire an actor in New York to pretend that he's Errol Morris. If you have any casting suggestions, I'd appreciate that.

Keep it short and keep selling it because that's what's going to work for you, your career and the film.

Congratulations on all your good reviews. Let's make sure the movie is as successful.

Best Regards,

(Signed)

Harvey Weinstein

Grab 'em by the throat and never let 'em go.-Billy Wilder

What makes a great opening sequence is a personal thing, of course, but when a movie grabs your attention from the opening frame, knocks you out of your seat or even grinds you into it, you tend to remember it very fondly.


There are the obvious choices: 2001: A Space Odyssey, Raiders of the Lost Ark and Apocalypse Now. And the ones where the movie did not live up to the opening, like Saving Private Ryan.


And then there are those announce that the movie you're about to see is going to be something really special. 


The list below is not meant to be definitive or exhaustive, just an example of a few of my favorites. 

8 1/2



Blue Velvet

The perfect cinema metaphor, the king of allegorical opening sequences. 



Underground



The Wild Bunch






Nostalghia



Once Upon a Time in the West






The Battle of Algiers

In a scant 2:30 minutes, Pontecorvo sets up the story. Without showing any violence, we know what the prisoner has gone through.





Touch of Evil
Unquestionably one of the most marvelous, intoxicating openings in cinema history.






Goodfellas



Dr. Strangelove






Full Metal Jacket



Tokyo Drifter



Raising Arizona

Turn to the right!



Pulp Fiction






Fargo


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XI_4wvBHkrw



Memento



The Hurt Locker



Trainspotting

Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?



There Will Be Blood


PT Anderson knows how to open a film.
(no clip available)

The Man in Theatre Line a.k.a.The Insufferable Hardcore Film Buff (“IHFB”)

Remember that scene in Annie Hall?

Alvy Singer: [the man behind him in line is talking loudly] What I wouldn't give for a large sock with horse manure in it! 
Alvy Singer: [to audience] Whaddya do when you get stuck in a movie line with a guy like this behind you? 
Man in Theatre Line: Wait a minute, why can't I give my opinion? It's a free country! 
Alvy Singer: He can give it... do you have to give it so loud? I mean, aren't you ashamed to pontificate like that? And the funny part of it is, Marshall McLuhan, you don't know anything about Marshall McLuhan! 
Man in Theatre Line: Oh, really? Well, it just so happens I teach a class at Columbia called "TV, Media and Culture." So I think my insights into Mr. McLuhan, well, have a great deal of validity! 
Alvy Singer: Oh, do ya? Well, that's funny, because I happen to have Mr. McLuhan right here, so, so, yeah, just let me... 
[pulls McLuhan out from behind a nearby poster] 
Alvy Singer: come over here for a second... tell him! 
Marshall McLuhan: I heard what you were saying! You know nothing of my work! You mean my whole fallacy is wrong. How you got to teach a course in anything is totally amazing! 
Alvy Singer: Boy, if life were only like this!

Every time I encounter an IHFB I cringe and think of this scene. I’ve done my share of cinematic pontification and it wasn’t until I started to encounter several incarnations of Man in Theatre Line all over Los Angeles, that I decided to keep my brilliant analytical insights to myself for fear that I might sound like an annoying IHFB. Thinking it’d be less annoying than verbalizing my opinions, I started to write reviews for an e-zine. At first it worked. It was much easier to send a link to a review when someone asked what I thought about a movie. But then I started to annoy and bore myself with the written version of my gushing, passionate pontification and parading of my vast film knowledge. It was also truly traumatizing to have to pan some of my favorite directors (including Woody) in the name of journalistic integrity and to fend off angry and offended moviegoers because my tastes were not populist and differed from theirs. Tell someone you hated the beloved Haggis’ Crash and Slumdog Millionaire and you might find yourself the victim of mainstream ire.

Anyway, last Saturday I finally got to see Lawrence of Arabia on 70mm at the Aero with my Film Enthusiast group. Because it was one of my mom’s favorite movies, I have seen it at least a dozen times on television and video. While waiting for the film to start I told this to someone in the group, and a self-proclaimed IHFB (minus the “I” of course) said: Oh, I’ve seen it way more than that. And all on the big screen. I only see movies on the big screen. It’s the only way to see movies. On the big screen that is.”

Okey dokey. Tell him what he’s won Vanna…

A few people said they had not seen Lawrence of Arabia and I asked if they had seen The Bridge on the River Kwai. They said yes and before I could complete my thought the IHFB interrupted with “Oh no. But Lawrence of Arabia is much more factual.” I turned around and gave up on the conversation.  The IHFB continued to spill out tomes and tomes of David Lean and Lawrence of Arabia information and analysis hardly letting anyone else from the group chime in. I had to sit through 20 minutes of that before my friends, who were driving all the way from San Diego for this special screening, arrived. I decided right there and then to pretend I knew nothing about film. When asked my opinion, I'll just say I liked it, didn't like it, or it was okay. That was to be my gift to my fellow humans. And this is how one gets to learn the true meaning of empathy folks.

Ok, so this post was supposed to be about the incredible experience that is Lawrence of Arabia on the big screen. It made me sad that $500 million had to be spent to make blue lizards on 3-D to “restore the wonder” to the movie going experience, when all you have to do is spend $10 at your local revival/arthouse theater. Oh what the masses are missing!

I’m a filmmaker and therefore I have to sit through two and a half hours of blue lizards to see what’s up. I am not looking forward to it, but I will check my cynicism at the door and go in with an open mind. In the meantime, I have to ask:

Would David Lean have used CGI instead of spending two years in the desert if the technology had been available to him?

Can we ban the word “pretentious” from the dictionary?

My friend John Luke Retard e-mailed me and a mutual Critic friend the Toronto Film Festival best of the decade list. John Luke confessed he had fallen asleep during Syndromes and a Century and the Critic sent a brief reply dismissing the list as pretentious. I expect that kind of shallow reaction from an intimidated and insecure mainstream moviegoer, but coming from a critic it really bothered me. Especially after he had already said the same thing about The Hollywood Reporter’s list, pointing out that, even though he had not seen The White Ribbon, any list with that much Michael Haneke had to be pretentious. I don’t know if it was his use of one of my most hated words, his disdain for one of my favorite directors or the chile relleno I had for lunch, but my gut started to burn. I took a Zantac, meditated for a bit and proceeded to grill him on his definition of “pretentious.” He sent back this lovely definition: “long, slow films that most audiences will not care about or enjoy.” I popped a Paxil.

“Great artists are people who find the way to be themselves in their art. Any sort of pretension induces mediocrity in art and life alike.”—Margot Fonteyn

I abhor the word “pretentious” because it’s thrown around willy-nilly, as if it’s supposed to be a grandiose and meaningful statement in of itself. It’s quite the opposite. I have used the word before in a film review. But to me, pretentiousness is the antithesis of honesty; it lies within the context of the artist’s intent. The Critic was using it to judge the TIFF list-maker’s intent, as if his/her choices had no relevance because it was unlikely they would appeal to a wide audience. As a member of a smaller audience that seeks out more original and artistic films, I am offended that someone would suggest that what I want to see doesn’t matter. It was as if the Critic was saying, “your hunger for these obscure arthouse films is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. If you refuse to be part of the herd, then risk being called a pretentious twit."

I started to review movies out of a need to, not just write, but to promote worthy films outside the mainstream radar. Voltaire said that “no statue has ever been erected for a critic.” While it’s true, the profession doesn’t have to be without merit. It is certainly a noble pursuit to support and promote worthwhile efforts outside the mainstream. I wrote the Critic, that where he saw pretentiousness and the list-maker’s selfish self-aggrandizing, I perceived advocacy. As a filmmaker, I hope one day my work will be championed by a critic. Anyone, actually.

I am sure The Dark Knight and Up will be on many lists, but really, do they need it? Christopher Nolan and Pixar are doing all right. Better than all right. The same can’t be said for dozens of brilliant filmmakers that cannot get financing off the ground and distribution for their films. They’re calling it the Indie Bloodbath.

I thank and applaud those who bring attention to lesser known movies. Making discoveries would be difficult without those generous, caring souls. Someone is going to read the TIFF list and discover a filmmaker they have never heard of before and maybe love her movie. (I’ve added Distant, Platform and Colossal Youth to my bulging Netflix queue.)The hope is always that someone, somewhere, will notice your work and give it some attention so that you can find your audience.

I am working my way through the decade’s movies trying to figure out what I think are the best. I can tell you right now that ranking my picks will be downright impossible. I don’t watch that many Hollywood movies because it’s a waste of my time. However, I hope you don’t see me and/or my list as pretentious. I don’t have an agenda. I like what I like and I champion what I think should be championed. It’s as simple as that. Stay tuned.

Beyond the Shitty First Draft

There is no such thing as a first draft, or an OK first draft, or a pretty good first draft. There are only Shitty First Drafts and Super Shitty First Drafts and the only way to graduate from Super Shitty to just Shitty is to write several Super Shitty First Drafts.

Every screenwriter, at least the ones that live in the reality of this planet (believe me, there are many who don’t and most reside in Los Angeles) knows that the first draft is not even good enough to show your mother. This is particularly hard to stomach if you are a beginner screenwriter and you think everything you write is super clever and compelling. Write a few scripts, show them to some people, and watch that six figure spec deal delusion crumble.

I’ve completed many Shitty First Drafts and the road to the rewrite is always excruciatingly painful because, after all that work, the thought of taking it apart and risk making it worse, is horrific to me. Last night I attended the Notes on Craft: Rewriting session at the WGA in an effort to come to terms with that fear. The impressive panel was moderated by Daniel Petrie, Jr. and was composed of John August, Jack Epps, Jr. and Scott Frank.

I can’t begin to tell you how helpful and inspiring the experience was. It wasn’t that I heard earth-shattering information although the advice and tips from the writers were great. No, what I discovered was that even established and wildly successful screenwriters have the same fears and tackle the same problems as hopefuls.

The three writers had three different processes and approaches to writing. Epps is organized, uses note cards and has to have a clear vision and outline before he begins. August needs to know the beginning and the end and then works towards the middle. Frank just writes and writes until he discovers the story and finds its heartbeat. He confessed this was an extremely arduous, agonizing and long, long, long method.

They agreed that the greatest rewrite fear comes from having to risk everything that works to fix what doesn’t. It’s tricky to navigate around what’s working. So how do you figure out what doesn’t work? You need to trust yourself and your instinct and remember why you wanted to write this story in the first place. You should also have a few trusted friends and colleagues that will read your script and give you helpful notes. Some trusted readers should be people who’d love the kind of movie you are writing and others who wouldn’t consider it their thing.

The Shitty First Draft exists to be torn apart, and almost always, the second draft process will be more difficult. A writer must find the inspiration to tackle the second draft with fresh eyes and the courage to be brutal and savage. You should perceive the task as a challenge and not a mechanical chore and you need to continue to locate yourself in the material so that it’s a living, breathing story.

These writers were telling me exactly what I instinctively knew and they confirmed why it was so difficult to tear that first draft apart.

Interestingly, Frank commented that the reason you start a script hardly ever winds up in the final draft.

The screenwriters spoke about their rewriting assignments and they agreed that the common denominator of bad scripts is the lack of good characters. They get called in to “fix the girl, make her sound human.” Too often, writers concentrate on plot and populate the story with “attitudes.” These “people” do not act like humans, the plot and where it’s going dictates what the characters do and say. Frank said that the only way you can have an artful script is to have great characters. Story is easy, great characters are not.

Because it’s so tough to discern what works or doesn’t, Epps urged us to formulate a plan of attack and concentrate on only one thing with each pass. He added that most of his rewriting consisted of figuring out character motivation and deepening relationships and subplots. He offered Tootsie as an example. Michael Dorsey’s story and arc are pretty clear, but each of his relationships is what drives the story and makes it compelling.

The single most valuable tip involved audience consideration. The writers pointed out the importance of the audience’s point of view: what do they want to see? August mentioned the evolution of Iron Man. The filmmakers were smart enough to realize that the audience wanted to see Robert Downey, Jr. creating his inventions, so they cut a lot of the action and plot from the final film and gave them more of what they wanted to see.

Other helpful tips/exercises:

• Give yourself the freedom to write off the page and get your characters talking.

• Imagine the story from each character’s point of view, change the dynamics of the scene, i.e. which character drives it and have fun writing it.

• Pay close attention to scene transitions and focus on them to improve pace. Frequently, if scene transitions are not effective, that means one of the scenes is unnecessary.

• Change up obligatory genre scenes, i.e. the “meet cute” in a romcom. Think of ways to change the formula and write it differently.

• Ask yourself: if the inciting incident didn’t happen, would I watch these characters anyway? If the answer is no, you have to go back to characterization.

• Burn down the house. Be horrible to your main character. Things can always get worse for her.

• Always be on the lookout for lack of conflict. It doesn’t matter how small a scene is, it should always have conflict.

• When it comes to polishing, be mindful of rhythm, flow and tone. Vary sentence structure or else the read will be very boring. Say a lot with the least amount of words possible and make every word count. They recommended Dashiell Hammett’s “Red Harvest” as the quintessential example of saying a lot with little.

• If you can tell what your script is about without getting long winded or digressing, then the draft is ready for other eyes.

Finally, Frank expressed that the best reason to write was to amuse yourself. But because writing is such agony, it must be an obsession. And yes, successful writers also move commas around and mess with the settings of their screenwriting program to cheat page count and call it rewriting.

I’m still afraid, but it’s comforting to know that there are others out there who are with me in my suffering. I think I’m ready to face the imaginary paper shredder. And anyway, what choice do I have? This is an obsession.

Wilder’s Eleven Tips on Screenwriting

This year, as a screenwriter and also as a film critic,  I have learned to take the audience into consideration and even respect it. And believe me, for a born and raised film snob and idiosyncratic filmmaker, it was a long and painful process.  I think Billy Wilder expressed it best:

"An audience is never wrong. An individual member of it may be an imbecile, but a thousand imbeciles together in the dark - that is critical genius."

In the documentary Billy Wilder Speaks, Volker Schlondorff asked Wilder what should be in a screenplay. He responded: "Interior. Exterior. Day. Night. That's it."


Watch Billy Wilder speaks in Celebrity & Showbiz  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

It's advice I have taken to heart and which has enabled me to demystify the craft of screenwriting and realize the supremacy of the Story. Sitting through readings of over-written screenplays has helped a lot too. Don't do unto others...

Wilder's screenwriting advice below reflects his respect for the audience and his approach to filmmaking. It's great advice from a filmmaker that gave us one of the most articulate, enjoyable and influential body of work in the history of cinema.



1. The audience is fickle.

2. Grab 'em by the throat and never let 'em go.

3. Develop a clean line of action for your leading character.

4. Know where you're going.

5. The more subtle and elegant you are in hiding your plot points, the better you are as a writer.

6. If you have a problem with the third act, the real problem is in the first act.

7. A tip from Lubitsch: Let the audience add up two plus two. They'll love you forever.

8. In doing voice-overs, be careful not to describe what the audience already sees. Add to what they are seeing.

9. The event that occurs at the end of the second act curtain triggers the end of the movie.

10. The third act must build, build, build in tempo and action until the last event, and then

11. That's it. Don't hang around.

Is it true that the few remaining truths are graffiti, suicide notes, and shopping lists?

Umberto Eco recently said in an interview "I like lists for the same reason other people like football or pedophilia." Read full interview here.

I agree that lists can be anti-democratic, discriminatory, elitist, and sometimes the print is too small. Still, I make lists to try to put my life in some kind of order, but once I make them, I never look at them again. Even shopping lists. The list below is an attempt to make sense of my movie watching experience this year.

The Best:

The Headless Woman
Antichrist
Tulpan
The Hurt Locker
The Beaches of Agnes
You the Living
Up
O’Horten
Lorna’s Silence

Women Without Men
Tokyo Sonata
Liverpool
An Education
The White Ribbon
Adoration

I can’t believe I actually sat through and endured these, one of which almost turned me into a francohater:

Paris 36
Little Ashes
The Stoning of Soraya M
Blue Balls aka The Watchmen
What Goes Up
State of Play

Three of the most disappointing came from three of my favorite directors:

Broken Embraces
The Limits of Control
Whatever Works

The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus
The Road

Documentaries I enjoyed:

The Guest of Cindy Sherman
No Impact Man
Food, Inc.
Chelsea on the Rocks

The Yes Men Fix the World

Treats on the big screen:

A Foreign Affair
Rosemary’s Baby
Imitation of Life (Sirk’s)
Le Doulos
Rififi

The best movie watching experience of my life:

A restored print of The Gold Rush at Royce Hall.



It was an okay year I guess. I did not list the mediocre movies since there are too many of them and they are mostly forgettable. There’s still 6 weeks left in the year, and, since it’s Oscar Hopeful Rollout Season, I doubt this list will change much. Also, I’m sure I’m leaving out some films, but that’s another list for another day.

It's the end of the decade and you know what that means:

lists and more lists.

While there were many, many great movies this decade, I had to settle on one. My first choice would have been Hedwig and the Angry Inch, but since I'm always quoting from Ghost World (Dir: Terry Zwigoff, 2001, that was a more obvious and personal choice.



The trials and tribulations of teenagers all over the world are beautifully summarized in the old Zen saying: "Awkward in a hundred ways, clumsy in a thousand, still I go on." It fully applies to recent high school graduates Enid (Thora Birch) and Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson), best friends who can't wait to say goodbye to all the "retards"--the popular kids who buy into the consumer culture. They are searching not only for their identity, but their place in a world dominated by plastic versions of interaction and satisfaction. In Ghost World, Terry Zwigoff bridges the imaginary gap between arthouse and mainstream filmmaking with a very funny and insightful look into the psyche of modern America. Through his characters, he shows us both the ugly and beautiful, the phony and the real, while trying to connect with something authentic.



Click here to continue….

The Feel Bad Movie of the Year

After the tragic 2000 "election," I coped by joining every tree-hugging, peace-marching, polar bear-saving organization I could afford. In exchange for my 20 bucks I received bumper stickers and frightening e-newsletters, but none as disturbing as the Organic Consumers Association Organic Bytes. Here's a recent one, #176: Alert of the Week: Stop Monsanto's Genetically Engineered Wheat; Related Quote of the Week: The Hazards of Genetic Engineering, etc. I became afraid of food but I still managed to maintain my 22% body fat thanks to hunger-induced amnesia, eventually prompting me to mark the Organic Bytes harbinger of doom as spam right before heading to my favorite taco stand.

There's no way to sugar coat it. Food, Inc. is the feel-bad movie of the year; a terrifying and eerily prescient, non-fiction version of Soylent Green, the 1973 movie which depicted a dystopian future wherein overpopulation and the destruction of the environment have rendered human life cheap, but food--that is, real food--is very expensive. The government dispenses rations of synthetic food substances made by the Soylent Corporation: Soylent Yellow, Soylent Red, and the newest product, Soylent Green. It's all about the cheap food and so is Food, Inc.

Continued at...

http://spectrumculture.com/2009/06/food-inc.html