I'm breathing all right.

Despite having absolutely no chance of being selected as a participant, this year I decided to apply for the Sundance Screenwriter’s Lab. On April 29th, I sent a blank self addressed-stamped postcard along with my application packet. I wrote: “Don’t hold your breath!!!” with a black Sharpie. I figured I’d stick the returned postcard on my fridge and forget about it until I received the “Thank You for Applying” rejection email at the end of the summer.

Today, a friend sent me an email saying he was thankful he didn’t apply because he came across some information on a board. Greg Beal has been the coordinator of the Nicholl Fellowships since 1989 and had this to say about the Lab:

"Entering Sundance as a writer only is problematic. Yes, scripts will be requested on the basis of the pages and synopsis from hundreds of entrants, but the lab participants will mostly be drawn from folks who fit at least some of the following:

1) invited entrants who completely bypass the first cut process;
2) writers and writer-directors known to the Sundance administrators and/or mentors;
3) writer-directors who have had shorts and/or a feature in previous Sundance festivals;
4) writers with some combination of attachments (i.e., director, producers, actors);
5) writers and writer-directors with a film at the project stage (various elements and some or much financing in place);
6) writers and writer-directors recommended to the Sundance administrators by established film folks (often festival and lab regulars).

I was told years ago by one of the Sundance administrators that they were seeking projects that needed one extra push in order to go into production. Consider this example: Ed Burns was a lab participant (with She's the One) after Brothers McMullen was an indie hit.

What writer competition entrants can hope for is: a miracle; or notice this year that will cause them to be invited to submit in a later year."

It doesn’t take the love child of a rocket scientist and a brain surgeon to figure out that’s Sundance’s MO. All you have to do is look up the Lab participants’ resumes and credits to conclude what Greg Beal says above. I do not fit any of the above categories, and I do not hope for a miracle. There’s no such thing as a miracle in screenwriting.

I hope to advance beyond the first round and receive a request for the full script, and, if not, at least get on Sundance’s radar for when I need that “extra push.” You have to get those scripts out there. It’s the only way they are going to get read by people in the industry.

By the way, I got the postcard back with a note that said “Smart girl.”

Pass This Bitches!--The Reader, Friend or Foe?

This past Saturday I was fortunate enough to attend a very informative workshop with Julie Gray while attending the Broad Humor Film Festival.  The topic was: The World of Readers.  I know what you're thinking. Who gives a shit?  I thought it for a second too.  But quickly I realized how this knowledge would help me get an edge over the rest.

Julie started by describing the conditions under which our scripts are read. There's a hierarchy in the world of readers.  When they start out, they have to read for crappy companies and work their way up.  On average, they get paid $60 a script.  That means they have to read 3-4 scripts a day to make a living.  Although some companies are distributing scripts via e-mail, a lot are still very protective and will only use hard copies.  This means the readers have to drive all over town to pick up scripts and they don’t get reimbursed for mileage.  If they get a call and they turn down a screenplay, they risk not being called again, so the successful readers never turn down work.  Also, they get no benefits and no health or dental insurance. 

You have to assume they’re not reading your script at 9:00 a.m. with a delicious cup of coffee, but at 11:00 p.m. with a toothache, (remember, no dental insurance) and still two more scripts to go.  The first thing they do is turn to the last page to see how long it is.  If it’s more than 110 pages, you’ve started really badly.  Next, they read the title, which sets the mood.  Then, they dump the brads in a bucket and start speed reading.  They just read and do not think.  If problems that start to come up, they start to think and that slows down the read.

They have to read the whole script so that others don’t have to. Readers can only afford devote 2.5 hours to covering a script.  It takes them about an hour to read and the rest for writing the coverage.  Coverage is basically 2-3 pages of synopsis and 1.5 pages of comments and notes.  If the synopsis is dull, guess what else was dull?  Yup. Our script.  And dull makes the readers very, very cranky.

Their world is a mine field.  There are politics involved and they do have to read a lot of crappy fluff because of who's attached.  However, honest, objective readers succeed and are willing to risk their jobs for a great script.  Julie reiterated that readers love nothing more than reading a great script.  If they come across a RECOMMEND, they call a 24/7 phone number.  That’s the executive’s number.  The response is always: “Great. Now thanks to you I have to read this weekend.” But they're willing to duke it out and defend the script.

Basically, it’s up to us to make either friends or enemies from readers.  It’s on you to make it easier on yourself, and Julie was kind enough to tell us how.

Top Ten (Actually Eleven) Reader Hates

11.  Script is too long.  This means it’s over 120 pages and it signals that the writer does not have control over her story.  Writers should try to hit the 100-110 sweet spot.  Comedy and horror scripts should be around 100 pages. Minimum page count is 90 pages.  "But so and so's script won an Oscar and it was 160 pages--"  You're not so and so and that's an exception.  Again, do you want to make it easier on yourself or not?

10.  Sending weird shit with the script. Yes, as bizarre as it sounds, people do that. It makes you look like an amateur. Resist all temptation to send the hilarious monkey that's in your script.

9.  Nothing happens.  Readers see this all the time.  They call them BOSH scripts: Bunch of Shit Happens.  These scripts are usually episodic, derivative and very boring.

As you can see, she’s getting crankier.

8.  Schizophrenic scripts.  Screenplays that are all over the place that make the reader ask “What am I reading?”  They can’t discern the genre and the tone changes from scene to scene.  This means the writer doesn’t know what they're doing and what story they are telling.

7.  Sluglines that suck and clutter the page.  A lot of times writers read shooting scripts and use that format.  You do not need to repeat the slugline over and over.  If you’re creative and know cinematic language, you can use sluglines to your advantage.  Why say INT. HOUSE when you can say INT. CRUMBLING SHACK?  That also eliminates description in the action line.  Take every opportunity to seduce with colorful words.

They love mini sluglines.  Here’s an example:

INT. MANSION--DAY

IN THE KITCHEN

Jane drops her panties. Joe gets on his knees.

Lubricate the read.  

Also, you do not need to keep repeating it’s day.  It’s DAY until it’s not DAY anymore.  It’s NIGHT until it’s not NIGHT anymore.

And crankier…

6.  Lame two-dimensional characters who do not seem to have a backstory or no other life besides the plot.  Characters are what make you care about the story.  Bad characters have no flaws or motivation and do not change.  Don't fall in love with your character at the beginning of the story.  If you do, she'll be Miss Perfect, just like you.  Fall in love with your character as she is going to be at the end of the story.  The protagonist should start like this : ( and end up like this : ).

Remember: A story is an emotion delivery system that should provide catharsis. Great characters are the Gold Standard.  

5.  On the nose dialogue.  There is not such thing as good characters and bad dialogue or vice versa.  They are always, without exception, both good or both bad. 

4.  Too much black.  They just skip dense action lines, so your effort to create novelistic prose-like script is wasted and resented.  Again, it’s 11:30 p.m., reader has a toothache, no dental insurance and still has two more scripts to read. Aim for less black.  Think "white space is the new prose."

Put the reader in the character’s shoes and manipulate her into the movie.

Don't micromanage actors in action lines and give too much detail.  The writer is not the director or actor.

No weird editorials: “This should be shot like that scene in Showgirls…”

Do not recommend actors.

Pop references are all right if they are integral to the story.

Break up action to lead 

EYES

towards the

BOTTOM of the page.

Lubricate...

Use words as 

TRAMPOLINES!

They want to read elegant, 

pithy, 

cinematic ACTION!

And still crankier…

3.  Action Line Interruptus.

Dialogue interrupted by business that means nothing to the story.  It breaks up rhythm.

2.  Adept imitations.  Derivative, unoriginal scripts.

Writers should test their ideas.  Write a logline.  Then come up with 3-4 movies that are in any way like it.  When were they released?  What was the Box Office?  What was the zeitgeist when the movie was released?  Know what kind of movie you are writing.  Is it a Friday night blockbuster or a quite indie for a rainy Sunday afternoon?

Are you feeling empathy yet?

1. Typos.

Readers will overlook a reasonable amount of typos.  It’s considered petty and in bad form to point out typos in coverage.  But if it’s excessive, they're going to mention it because it means it's a writer who has no respect for the English language.  A huge flag is the misuse of homonyms, especially if it's all over the script.  It means it's not a typo and that the writer does not know the difference.

So now you know how to make it easier on yourself.  Make it easy on the reader so that her toothache doesn't get worse and she won’t resent you.  And remember, lubricate, lubricate, lubricate.  You want words that will slide down a white page towards the magical 

FADE OUT.

BTW: The reader tracking board is a myth.  No one has any interest or time to bash a script online.  They might, if ever, talk about a script if it was ridiculously funny, but that’s about it.

Broad Humor

This weekend I attended the Broad Humor Film Festival as screenplay finalist. It was a fun-filled weekend, and, among many things, I:

1. Spent a total of 6 hours driving to and from Venice.

2. Saw some pretty funny shorts.

3. Met a lot of accomplished filmmakers and screenwriters.

4. Participated in a great screenwriting workshop with Julie Gray.

5. Got some invaluable insights into AFI’s Directing Workshop for Women.

6. Learned that we still need men to move heavy furniture.

8. At the screenwriters’ lab, I heard actors read my Jewish character as Latino and my Latino characters as New Jersey Italians.

9. Indirectly made a woman bawl on her husband’s shoulder. Then cry some more. Then bawl some more until she only had dirty looks left.

10. Won. (See no. 9.)

I will be elaborating on no. 4 for sure, and maybe on other stuff, later in the week.

The Ughline

A commercial director friend who is trying to break into features recently asked me to read a script he’s thinking of directing. Because the scripts he has sent me before have been atrocious, I told him I’d read the logline and go from there.

After I read the “logline” which was actually a logparagraph, I replied:

“This got you to read this script?

I’m sorry, but I can’t devote precious time to reading a script from a writer who doesn’t know the simple structure of a logline. I am sympathetic, don’t get me wrong. I used to write convoluted crap like this too. Five years ago. But, if a writer can’t articulate her story into a simple, exciting sentence, then she has to go back and look at the story structure. Usually the problem lies therein.”

He replied:

“You should read the script before making comments like that. It’s excellent writing.”

I replied:

“I’m judging the ‘logline’. There is nothing in it that makes me want to read the excellent script you speak of. I’m going by the writing and nothing else.

Sorry if it seems harsh, but that’s the reality of trying to make it as a professional screenwriter. You get once chance and one chance only to make an impression and you better make sure you know your stuff. (I give my own dear friends a two-page chance.) That logline made an impression with me and it screamed beginner. Pass.

Eventually those of us who want to improve and actually sell something, take notice and realize what our job is. If my logline doesn't make someone want to read the first pages of the script (and eventually the whole script), then it’s my failure as a writer. I either wrote a shitty logline, or I wrote a story no one wants to read or make into a movie. It really is quite simple.”

I think most writers that are just starting out think they are too good for loglines or even synopses. It’s a travesty to try to condense our genius into one sentence or one page! How dare they? How dare they ask us to do such a thing?

I don’t think it’s a travesty anymore. And it’s not just a marketing necessity, it’s also a valuable tool. Struggling with the logline makes you nail down your story before you begin to write it. And, more importantly, it lets you know whether or not you have a hook or an interesting premise before you go any further and end up writing a character-driven indie with great dialogue and compelling characters no one wants to produce because it's not high concept.

Yet, it’s surprising that most people, even some professionals have difficulty writing a good, effective logline. Just take a look at some of the loglines from last year’s Sundance Lab participants. (According to the webpage, the descriptions were provided by Sundance.)

“40 Days of Silence” by Saodat Ismailova (writer/director), Uzbekistan: Four generations of women under one roof in Uzbekistan look to each other for comfort as they try to overcome their destinies.

“Bluebird” by Lance Edmands (writer/director), USA: In the frozen woods of an isolated Maine logging town, one woman’s tragic mistake leads to unexpected consequences, shattering the delicate balance of her community.


"Drunktown’s Finest" by Sydney Freeland (writer/director), USA: Three Native Americans - a rebellious father-to-be, a devout Christian, and a promiscuous transsexual - find their self-images challenged, and ultimately strengthened, as they come of age on an Indian reservation.

“Zero Motivation” by Talya Lavie (writer/director), Israel: A sometimes comic, often dramatic look at the power struggles of three female clerks over one year in an administrative office at a remote army base in the Israeli desert.

These screenplays got into one of the most prestigious screenwriting programs in the world, so I’m sure they are good scripts. But are these vague loglines effective? Where’s the hook? Where’s the premise? Let’s be honest. If these loglines were not attached to the Sundance brand, they would not make us want to read the script.

In case you're wondering: The logline of your screenplay is a simple sentence or two that acts as a short synopsis of your story and provides the emotional hook that will make any agent or producer wish to read your script. You include the logline of your screenplay within your initial query letter whenever you are soliciting interest in your script from an agent or producer.

A well written logline should be carefully thought out. You have two sentences at most to convince people that your script is worth the time and effort to read, which will hopefully lead to a sale. A logline is also a useful time-saving device. If you are talking about your screenplay to anyone (from friend to Hollywood star) and they ask you what it’s about then you can simply quote your logline (but try not to sound like you memorized it). There should be something about that logline which really stands out and makes whoever hears it want to read the full story.

Your logline also allows you to “big up” your story so it sounds as high concept as possible. Producers love high concept scripts as they are easy to market. That means even if your story isn’t particularly high concept you can use you logline to embellish on it’s most intriguing points. Take note Sundance.

Again, there are two main reasons why you need a logline:

1. A logline keeps you focused as you write.

2. You need a logline to sell your screenplay.

Here are three questions to ask yourself as you write your logline:

1. Who is the main character and what does he or she want?

2. Who (villain) or what is standing in the way of the main character?

3. What makes this story unique?

The Fugitive: After he's wrongly convicted of murdering his wife, a high-powered surgeon escapes custody and hunts down the real killer, a one-armed man.

Memento: A man, suffering from short-term memory loss, uses notes and tattoos to hunt for the man he thinks killed his wife.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: A couple undergo a procedure to erase each other from their memories when their relationship turns sour, but it is only through the process of loss that they discover what they had to begin with.

Contests will also ask for loglines. Even your granny is going to ask for a logline. There's no way around it.

I may have been a little harsh with my friend, but that's exactly how I am going to be judged as a writer. Do you want to be perceived as a professional or as an amateur wannabe?

The True Power of Positive Thinking

I just discovered a use for positive thinking. Your excuses won’t be questioned and you can get out of anything.

Friend: Do you want to run a half-marathon on October 24th?
Me: I can’t. My calendar says the Austin Film Festival is from Oct. 21-28 and I’m going to be a screenplay finalist. I have to attend. Sorry dude.

Friend: Can you help me move second week of January?
Me: Oh shoot! I’m gonna be at the Sundance Screenwriter’s Lab.
Friend: How about the week after that?
Me. Can’t. I’ll have a short film in the festival.

Friend: You’re a delusional wacko and I don’t want to be around you until you get help.

Et voila!

If you submitted to Nicholl...

Last year, in the first round: all scripts read once. About 2800 read twice. About 800 read three times.  It will be similar this year. Of the first two reads, only one has to be highly rated to garner a third read. After three reads, best two of three are tallied and highest scoring scripts advance to the quarterfinal round.

Are you a writer?

I just came across this quote:

“I could be just a writer very easily. I am not a writer. I am a screenwriter, which is half a filmmaker… But it is not an art form, because screenplays are not works of art. They are invitations to others to collaborate on a work of art.”--Paul Schrader

Do we agree with this? He’s got a point but I’m not so sure. And if it is true, or if we convince ourselves that it is true, then is all that work in vain?

The following really pushes the point:

“Out of the thousand writers huffing and puffing through movieland there are scarcely fifty men and women of wit or talent. The rest of the fraternity is deadwood. Yet, in a curious way, there is not much difference between the product of a good writer and a bad one. They both have to toe the same mark.”--Ben Hecht

Should we just concentrate on premise and high concept and stop being so goddam precious with our words?

Can you do that? I don’t think I can.

A poet with a Polaroid camera.

A few days ago I told someone I was the least spiritual person in the world. I just remembered that’s not entirely true. All it takes is the mere sight of this word to make me believe in humanity, in nature, sometimes even in myself:


Tarkovsky

I wrote that essay as part of my application to the Telluride Film Festival Student Symposium.* The question was: If you could only take one film with you to the future, which one would you choose and why? (I got in and, so far, my participation in the Symposium has been the highlight of my film career. If you have been to the Telluride Film Festival, you probably understand why.)

These photos, taken at home and in Italy, bear witness to the same way of seeing and visual world as the great films. A selection from these photos was first published in Italy in 2006, and recently a Russian photo blog digitized all the pictures. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

“An artist never works under ideal conditions. If they existed, his work wouldn’t exist, for the artist doesn’t live in a vacuum. Some sort of pressure must exist. The artist exists because the world is not perfect.”

“My purpose is to make films that will help people to live, even if they sometimes cause unhappiness.”

“So much, after all, remains in our thoughts and hearts as unrealized suggestion.”

“I think in fact that unless there is an organic link between the subjective impressions of the author and his objective representation of reality, he will not achieve even superficial credibility, let alone authenticity and inner truth.”

"We can express our feelings regarding the world around us either by poetic or by descriptive means. I prefer to express myself metaphorically. Let me stress: metaphorically, not symbolically. A symbol contains within itself a definite meaning, certain intellectual formula, while metaphor is an image. An image possessing the same distinguishing features as the world it represents. An image — as opposed to a symbol — is indefinite in meaning. One cannot speak of the infinite world by applying tools that are definite and finite. We can analyze the formula that constitutes a symbol, while metaphor is a being-within-itself, it's a monomial. It falls apart at any attempt of touching it. "

“My encounter with another world and another culture and the beginnings of an attachment to them had set up an irritation, barely perceptible but incurable-rather like unrequited love, like a symptom of the hopelessness of trying to grasp what is boundless, or unite what cannot be joined; a reminder of how finite, how curtailed, our experience on earth must be.”

* Interesting side note: Joe Swanberg of Mumblecore fame, was one of my condo roommates. He showed us a video he did of his brother and his friends skateboarding.

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