Back Into the Mix

What's the point of Twitter? I thought it was dumb, but then I gave it a try. Now it still seems dumb, but also pointless.

Author J. G. Ballard has died. He died this morning at the age of 78. I had to read his book 'Crash' for Modern British Literature in college. I read it the night before class all in one sitting. I actually enjoyed it, though the book was very weird. It's always sad when a notable author (or person) dies.

Will update more frequently. Hopefully, but this week is very busy. Busy at work, and I will also be sending out my short story for publication. I need to hurry up so I can get those rejection letters back ASAP!

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Hiatus

Apologies on the blogging front. I've been trying to perfect this short story, this piece of 'real writing.' Regular posting will resume shortly.

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A Lesson From Hitchcock

I'm currently reading a biography of Alfred Hitchcock (the one by Charlotte Chandler). It is great so far, and I would encourage any fan of film to give it a chance.

Not only was Hitchcock a master director, but a caring person. But who cares about that, really? What I've found interesting is his 'ticking time bomb' theory to his movies. This structure revolves around the audience always being in-the-know, on the edge of their seat waiting to see when the shit on screen will hit the fan. One of many examples is in Notorious (one of his best), when Sebastian figures out his key was missing, yet Alicia and Devlin think they may have gotten away just yet. Or better yet, one step before, when Sebastian has not yet found his missing key, but we know he will. And we know he will figure it out. The anticipation is half the fun.

Let me search for a more common example, since I'm sure many readers have not seen Notorious. How about The Departed. The only real, true curve ball is that Costello is an informant. But that's not too shocking. Yet we spend a majority of the movie waiting, dying for the scene where Leo DiCaprio and Matt Damon throw down. There are no tricks, just raw human instinct, leading to a huge climax (wow, major unintended sexual innuendo).

Hitchcock always said he did not like surprises because they made him feel out of control. I agree, and understand, but after the cut I will list some examples where a surprise worked (and as expected, there will be a couple spoilers).

I'm not simply talking about a 'twist ending,' either. No Sixth Sense or The Usual Suspects.

A good example of a great movie with hidden motives is Casino Royale. We don't know Vespyr Lynd is in it for Le Chiffre, we don't know Mathis is in on it as well, and but that is the way of James Bond films, and it works well.

A movie revealing hidden motives will usually use this plot point to propel the third act. If it is revealed too early, it will fall short, and too late, it will seem gimmicky. Keep that in mind. It's all right to hide information from the audience, but waiting until the last breath is hard to pull off.

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I know I'm a little behind on the curve, but today was the first time I saw the 2000 movie 'The Beach' with Leo DiCaprio.

This movie seems to be a perfect, almost classic example, of a movie with a fantastic first half -- maybe even first two thirds -- and an ending so awful it has to be said twice. The ending was awful.

The story starts with some witty voice-over with solid characterization for Leo; we get his philosophy on life and why he'll do anything, like take a shot of snake blood. Then he gets to the island, moving past some gun-wielding drug henchmen, and eventually makes it to the Beach, a society of about thirty people who live in this paradise where everyone does their small share of work a day, and the rest of the time is spent high on marijuana and playing sports and having sex.

I don't even gripe about the obscenely obvious plot point of Leo tracing the map for his 'friends' in the beginning, though I would've liked for it to surfaced earlier, and the principle conflict to be something else.

The problem with the movie is no central focus, with the movie making multiple stabs at problems and hoping four mediocre plots will amount to one great one. Here's a tip: it never does. All right, sometimes it does, but we need to A) LOVE the characters, B) LOVE the scenarios, and C) it has to be witty. An example that comes to mind is 'Love Actually,' though many movie based on vignettes and handfuls of characters pull this off. But 'The Beach' is not a vignette movie, therefore fails miserably.

Leo being stationed in isolation to watch for the newcomers is when the movie jumps the shark. The movie even stoops so low as to parody a video game, which is so terrible that I will not describe it, and also pray that you never have to see it. Talk about being thrown out a movie. It's even worse than if Tyler Durden was splicing penises into your film reels.

So we get thirty minutes of Leo playing Rambo, with the headband and everything. The movie promises, at first, a focus on this perfect society, then shifts to themes of imaging your life alone, to the morality of mercy killings, to an unfortunate ending where everyone lives happily ever after. A movie like this does not deserve a happy ending. Actually, allow me to rephrase.

The definition of a 'happy ending' is always redefined, in every movie, according to the circumstances the characters are in. In 'Fight Club,' the Narrator shoots himself in the face, yet he's rid of Tyler Durder and kind-of ends up with Marla. That's close to a happy ending. In 'Titanic' Rose loves Jack and does all the things she never would've done without meeting him. That's pretty happy.

The acceptable happy ending for 'The Beach' should have been Leo getting off the island with his original two friends, while the others are either left ambiguously on the island, or maybe everyone gets off, but that should not have happened without at least one important character dying. The ending that made the cut involves, basically, everyone saying "oh well," and returning home unharmed. No one believes strongly enough in the Beach, in themselves, in the paradise, in their drugs, or in their love to stand up and fight. And a story with characters who appear strong but are that passive doesn't deserve recognition.

So my advice, if you have not seen this film, is to watch the first hour and fifteen minutes, shut it off, and then think up your own ending. It will be better, I promise.

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I feel I should be updating more. I will work on that.

As a writer, it often comes up that I'm required to shrink my stories -- that is, to summarize a story I've written in a paragraph, a page, two pages, rarely more. But see, therein lies the problem. If I could put all the important stuff from my story down into one page, why wouldn't I just make the story itself one page?

Or maybe I'm just bad and I will always need someone else to do it for me.

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Ok I know I said I'd be done with Oscar stuff for a long while, but I was thinking about this the other day, and I feel like writing a little bit before I watch 'About a Boy' and go to sleep.

For the 2006 Oscars, the original screenplay catagory, the nominees were:
Crash (winner)
Good Night, and Good Luck.
Match Point
Squid and the Whale, the
Syriana

I recall saying last year (while the race was on) that Crash winning O-Screenplay was a 'gimme.' In hindsight, I would rank these movies as follows:
Match Point
Squid and the Whale, the
Crash
Syriana
Good Night, and Good Luck.

First off, we can knock out Syriana because Stephen Gaghan won in 2001 (for a very well-deserved Traffic), and while that wasn't too recently, it's recent enough for a movie that revolves around a lot of similar themes to win. Plus, I didn't think Syriana was that hot. We can also kick GN&GL because, while that was a great movie, its screenplay wasn't one of its strongest points.

Why did Crash win? Because it was a movie that 'said something' about racism, and it had decent (and undeserved, but let's not go there) Best Picture potential. No doubt Crash was a well-crafted movie, but its writing was simply a string of two-dimensional characters (with the exception of maybe one) threaded together in a way I've seen in plenty of my undergraduate fiction classes. It didn't take any risks, and the fact that is jumped around so much allowed it to avoid any legitimate character depth. However, I will give it the 'grammatically (editorially?) correct' award to it, in the sense that there are no glaring flaws in the screenplay's consistency.

The Squid and the Whale was a fantastic little picture by Noah Baumbach that dealt with divorce and maturity and dealing with puberty. I think I'm a little biased since I'm an English major and there's lots of literature jokes throughout the movie. While a few portions of the movie were not as developed as the rest (I watched it like a year ago, so forgive my lack of examples), at least all the characters had their own struggles, both internal and external. Dealing with a small group of people, and developing them well, is always a much harder task than having a cast of sixty people and hoping they make up for each others' inadequacies. Which leads me to my next point:

Woody Allen should have won his fourth Oscar. I will admit it... I am a Woody Allen fan. And I know he really doesn't care about the Oscars. He didn't even know he won for Annie Hall until he read it in the paper the next morning. But he hasn't won in nearly 20 years, so surely he can win again soon. Anyway--Match Point is a drastic turn for Allen, leaving his faithful New York. This also proves he's a multi-talented filmmaker who can do both drama and comedy, and do them well. I'm going to be overly vague because this is not a movie to spoil. The story shows how everyone has deep flaws and desires they don't want anyone to find out, and how far people will go to get what they want. There are so many lines of quick wit, as well as genius turns in the plot that are impossible to guess, no matter how hard you try, or how 'good' you think you are. And Allen, of course, gets away with all of it, making every character completely believable in this struggle amongst the British upper class, where people sometimes assume life is just too easy. Again, with the small cast of characters, the audience gets a strange sense of familiarity right away, where you think you know what someone will do next, and when they go the other way it's still not surprising. Often on a set, Allen will improvise a lot, saying something to his actors like, "Use the word 'mellon' in some kind of sentence, because I have a joke to tell." I don't know how this movie was filmed, but it seems fairly obvious Match Point was scripted every word of the way, and with that kind of accuracy that is why it was the best original screenplay for 2006 (or, of 2005. Whichever you prefer).

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First, and most importantly, appletinis are amazing, and having a few of those should explain any typos in this post. Also, I'm on someone else's laptop and their keyboard, while it has a certain finesse, is oddly paranormal (is that really a word?).

Saw II is terrible.

No but seriously, earlier I had a fiction workshop, and the whole class had a lot of problems with the story. Then, at the end when the author can ask questions, she tried to justify her story, like, "You guys didn't get the metaphor," or, "I hinted at this this way," though no one got it and the whole thing needed a lot of work. News flash: if you need to explain your writing and motifs, it's your fault for crappy writing, not the readers' fault for not getting it. Basic new criticism, ENG 3014, a prereq. for any upper-level class. Sup?

In conclusion, only one more class before spring break. Score!

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Three things of deceasing importance:

Firstly, a lesson for you kids out there. Forget reading stuff for class. Use SparkNotes if you can. On Tuesday I had a quiz on a play by John Osborne, so on Sunday and Monday I spent a few hours reading the whole thing. This is weird for me, since I normally just read the sparknotes and do decent on the quiz. I get to class, feeling good, knowing most of the plot inside out, and I get to class and on the five question quiz, two questions are on tiny things that were mentioned in one sentence in some tiny place in the play. I think I got a 3/5. Such a joke... the one time I bother to read the whole body of work, and I get fucked over in the end. Screw self-enlightenment, I just want a good grade (for now...).

Secondly, last night I watched Cry_Wolf, which is a horror movie released a few years ago. It looked pretty bad, but it had the hot redheaded chick from Dawn of the Dead, so I caught it on a movie channel. I'm not that great at predicting movie endings (and I hate it when people say they 'knew something would happen,' but didn't actually say so during the movie. I also hate people who talk during movies. And people who try to predict endings in general. Actually, I just hate people.), but this ending was obvious from the first half hour, making the last hour pretty terrible. I mean, I'm all about watching rich kids in some private high school fuck with each other, but... sigh. 4/10.

Lastly, Match Point is an amazing movie. V for Vendetta is not.

Comparing a movie legend like Woody Allen to the Wachowski brothers, who had one decent movie, is pretty blasphemous. It's so much easier to have a terribly plot-driven story by two-dimensional characters in some sci-fi world, where the only appeal is just the looming overhead of a iron fisted government future, than to write an extremely ambitious drama with multiple characters with contrasting personalities, and at the same time destroying all predetermined rules of storytelling with an ending that seems unbelievable, yet so realistic. And that's not even counting how predictable V for Vendetta was. Woody Allen's direction is precise, and even a simple shot for a second reveals more about the characters than we get from watching an hour of Natalie Portman being lectured by a protagonist who seems like a poor-man's attempt at a real hero whose only significant achievement is memorizing the whole V section of the dictionary. I could go on, but since I'm lazy, I'll just say look them both up on either MetaCritic or RottenTomatoes and see which did better. V for Vendetta is a terribly mediocore film, probably about a 6.5-7, whereas Match Point is hovering around a steady 8.5.

Man, I'm mad I failed that quiz.

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So who's seen the original 'King Kong,' 1933 version? Oh well, this kind of works if you've only seen the new 2005 version.

A ways into the movie Kong camptures Ann Darrow (Fay Wray, or Naomi Watts), and then the group of people are following the ape, trying to rescue her. At some point in the old movie, Kong crosses a big river, temporarily losing the group that was trailing him. But then one of the guys has the bright idea to build a raft. Yes, assembling a raft to get across the river, brilliant! It even shows the men going off to collect supplies. A bit of a stretch, but I can buy it.

But then later, remember when Kong gets knocked unconscious by the grenade(s) and passes out, right before he's brought back to America? Well, in the new version, I think it just cuts and shows them in New York, ignoring the logistical question of how the F to get the ape on the boat. In the 1933 version, guess what they decide to do? Hell yes, they build another raft! (Though they don't actually show it, they just say they're going to do it.)

So, I'd like to know where they managed to find these hundreds of long, round pieces of wood so they could assemble a raft to put the 50 foot tall ape on their boat, or how they would even move him. I also think it's pretty hilarious that the universal solution to any problem involving water transportation is to build a raft. Not use a boat, or use a pre-made raft, or anything, but to actually build the raft on the spot. So great.

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My teacher said this is the shortest story to ever be published (I don't know if that's true - it's just what she said). It's pretty genius, though I almost hate to admit it. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Characters, a climax, a resolution. Wish I would've thought of it first.

"The Scarlatti Tilt," by Richard Brautigan

"It's very hard to live in a studio apartment in San Jose with a man who's learning to play the violin." That's what she told the police when she handed them the empty revolver.

---

Yeah, that's all it is. Read the fresh post below this one for movie news.

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Tonight I caught a showing of the not very much anticipated 'Saw 3.'

I will admit that, despite it's terrible acting, the first 'Saw' movie succeeded because of its writing. The second movie also had terrible acting, but they had a budget and managed to somehow pull off a decent flick. I enjoyed them both.

Though part three is was once again written by Leigh Whannell, the Australian who played one of the main characters in the first movie, it seems he was scrounging for ideas and came up shorthanded in the end, resulting in lazy writing and still terrible directing and acting.

After the first two movies I left the theatre with a sense of "whoa" that is hard to achieve, because I'm usually good at spotting endings and tie-ups just before you're supposed to be able to. I hate to get picky on details, but as a writer, I just have to. There's a huge difference between weaving hints and backstory throughout a plot while dropping subtle hints (that make sense - coming later in explanation) - which works well - and relying on gimmicky diction choices to provide a loophole for a real plot, and even then only use them as bookends. Yes, that was a long sentence, but I don't feel like redoing it.

FOR EXAMPLE, the whole "I am responsible for your child," with child replacing "boy," is a cheap trick. Also, the whole discussion about the divorce in the beginning tries to lead us to believe that the couple there are married, but it never says that, and it means a divorce from her husband (because she's having an affair). These serve as bookend plot devices, which are never good. There were a couple things, like the missing photograph piece, but that made it a tiny bit too obvious. Come on now.

Also, the thrill of the original 'Saw' movie was it's method to the madness, whereas the third installment is just straight 'method.' Ok, so we have four rooms, and we're going to progress through them, one by one, and have one challenge for each room. Between each room we will show a scene involving 'Jigsaw' and 'Amanda' and 'Other Bitch Who No One Cares About.' It felt like I was playing a game of Candy Land, working towards a predictable finish.

I couldn't buy the whole attachment of Shawnee Smith's character (Amanda) to Jigsaw. It seemed forced through flashbacks that were only mildly interesting and delivered in chunks, which goes back to weaving plot throughout a story. The story was: Past (scene from end of Saw 2), Present, Present, Present, Present....... BAM! FLASHBACK! SHE WAS IN ON IT THE WHOLE TIME! GET IT?! Present, Present..... Yawn.

Not all was bad though. There was still a couple scenes that made me uneasy, mainly the first one with the chains, and the puzzles seemed to get progressively less original as the movie went on, though I liked the rib-ripping device. The bullet-shooting necklace thing was cool looking, but we didn't even see it in action. Weak.

Also, from the first minute of the movie I could tell who would die because the style of writing has become somewhat predictable, almost a caricature of itself. Anyone remotely attached to the 'game,' other than one main character dies. The main character of course lives, because we need another cliffhanger for another sequel.

As my friend David said, this is how he felt afterwards: "Meh." I will ditto that. Dear Leigh Whannell - please don't make a part four.

Rating: 4.5/10

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Today in one of my writing workshops the teacher was doing a class exercise where she put first lines from short stories/novels on the overhead, and then asked the class for a 'yay' or 'nay,' on whether they would keep reading based only on that sentence.

I don't remember the quote or novel or anything, but after numerous one-liners, there was one sentence that took up 3 lines in the Word document, so there were a few commas and a couple thoughts combined. Actually, it was probably as long as the sentence just before this one. A few people in the class said 'nay,' and she asked why. This one girl said, "I don't know, the sentence seemed too long." Then I muttered, "Well then what do you read, Dr. Seuss?" Of course, when I said that, the class got quiet, and the teacher asked me to repeat what I said.

So I elaborated (slightly), and said something like, "Well if three lines is too long, what do you read, Dr. Seuss? I mean, come on..." The girl got all defensive, and started to explain what she meant, but a majority of the class was still laughing at my comment.

Funny aftermath - when we set out to do group work, she sat next to me in our small groups, so I almost felt bad. And for the record, I have nothing against Dr. Seuss.

Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels - Not without flaws, but lots of fun to watch. 8/10

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Sorry for the lapse in regular postings, I've been trying to finish up some short stories and polish them for peer review.

Soon, my dears, soon...

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Though I haven't finished Lolita yet, I flipped to the back and read Nabokov's notes on the novel (from a year after it was originally published [published 1955, so 1956]).

First, I was slightly annoyed at how he implied his English work was inferior to his Russian work. Why? Because, to put it simply, the vocabulary used in that novel is nothing short of amazing. Especially for a second (actually, I think it may be third or fourth) language. Of course Nabokov always emphasized the importance of form over content. Regardless, I would sell my soul for the ability to write like that, and him passing it off as minor literature left me in a state of awe.

That aside, this point of his was interesting:

It is childish to study a work of fiction in order to gain information about a country or about a social class or about the author.

Funny, because that's what I've been doing for the last year or so in my American/English/World Lit classes. I think his point is that fiction writing should be entirely fictitious, where it takes place in its own world and doesn't rely on the bounds of reality.

Maybe. And I would agree.

In summary: studying fiction as writing is good, but not if you're looking for a history lesson.

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Premiere magazine listed the "top 25 screenplays," and I figured I'd comment because I'm bored.

Link

1. Casablanca
2. The Godfather
3. Chinatown
4. Citizen Kane
5. All About Eve
6. Annie Hall
7. Sunset Boulevard
8. Network
9. Some Like It Hot
10. The Godfather Part II
11. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
12. Dr. Strangelove: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
13. The Graduate
14. Lawrence of Arabia
15. The Apartment
16. Pulp Fiction
17. Tootsie
18. On the Waterfront
19. To Kill a Mockingbird
20. It's a Wonderful Life
21. North by Northwest
22. The Shawshank Redemption
23. Gone with the Wind
24. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
25. The Wizard of Oz

I'm glad they showed some love for recent movies ('Eternal Sunshine' and 'Shawshank').

Top 2 were the correct placings and I think anyone who's seen both would agree, though which is the better movie overall is debatable (I say 'Casablanca' but that's just me).

'Some Like It Hot' and 'Godfather II' should've been a few places higher, and I'm glad Woody Allen's 'Annie Hall' got a top 10 placement.

Nice to see 'The Graduate' represented as well.

'Pulp Fiction' should not be on that list, especially at #16.

'On the Waterfront' should've been ahead of 'Dr. Strangelove,' same with 'It's a Wonderful Life.'

Glad 'Wizard of Oz' and 'Gone with the Wind' are on there, and their placings are appropriate. Amazing movies but their screenplays aren't too phenominal (but, obviously, still good).

Overall I give this list: 8.5/10

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There's a Catch-22 to some writing exercises. Example: I was in my Creative Writing class, and as sort of a fun "final exam" we were supposed to go back to why we originally began writing - not worrying about grades and grammar and whatnot - just writing what we felt at the moment (so basically a journal entry).

Now, the teacher prefaced the exercise by saying that no one would be forced to read them out loud, she wouldn't even have us turn it in, and it was just for us. Then she said that whoever wanted to read theirs could.

Doesn't giving people the option to share eliminate the point of writing for just themselves? I'm sure some people did just write what they wanted, but the people who usually volunteer think they're funny and aim their writing at the audience, wanting to extract laughs or praise. So in actuality, by giving the option of sharing, the teacher eliminated the authenticity of private thought, resulting in faux work.

This I can deal with, but for the most part people were just trying to show off how "cool" they were by mentioning drinking or smoking or "how much they have to do" or whatever else they think will impress their peers, when in reality it just makes them look like a jackass.

Thinking back now, it would've been pretty funny if I wrote this up and read it out loud before anyone else, but that in itself is another Catch-22, so I guess it's better I just kept mine secret.

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For one of my classes we had an assignment that required reading of articles about a text, then summarizing the article and relating it to other articles in our textbook. The paper length is 3-4 pages, and mine came out to be about 4.

So I print off my paper and works cited page, and the teacher wants a copy of the article we chose to use (makes sense, right?). I go to print off the article, and it is 15 pages. Ridiculous. I have a feeling my teacher is just going to give me an F and write "I don't see how you fit a 15 page article, another article [note: that's about 10 pages], and lots of Jane Eyre references into 1,000 words."

Oh well, I've done worse.

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In regards to this post (I think), I got my American Lit paper on Hemingway back today. My grade was a 90, so yay. That was the high point of my day.

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You know, I hate poetry. I really do. If I could abolish one aspect of the literary world, that would be it. Contrariwise, yeterday I was eating lunch with three friends and one of them was hating on poetry, basically because she was forced to read it in middle school.

Normally I would've been like "yeah, fuck poetry!" It was uncanny... I felt some deep inner urge and obligation as an English major to defend poetry, despite agreeing with the fact that it sucked.

That was the main reason, at least. However, anyone who really knows me is aware that I often like to play Devil's advocate (when possible), and I like to be difficult and argumentative.

In other news...

I've taken up writing this story for one of my classes in a Hemingway style. I started writing it, but I just started writing whatever came to mind in random order, so instead of minimalistic and below-the-surface writing I got cynical first person commentary on college life from the perspective of a sick kid. I think I'm going to just tear it up and start over.

Well, and I don't want to fail.

Like John Hersey said: "To be a writer is to throw away a great deal, not to be satisfied, to type again, and then again and once more, and over and over." Or, Hemingway: "The first draft of anything is shit."

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Recently Annie Proulx (author of Brokeback Mountain) posted her opinion on the upset of Crash winning best picture. I have to disagree with something:

"None of the acting awards came Brokeback's way, you betcha. The prize, as expected, went to Philip Seymour Hoff-man for his brilliant portrayal of Capote, but in the months preceding the awards thing, there has been little discussion of acting styles and various approaches to character development by this year's nominees. Hollywood loves mimicry, the conversion of a film actor into the spittin' image of a once-living celeb. But which takes more skill, acting a person who strolled the boulevard a few decades ago and who left behind tapes, film, photographs, voice recordings and friends with strong memories, or the construction of characters from imagination and a few cold words on the page? I don't know. The subject never comes up. Cheers to David Strathairn, Joaquin Phoenix and Hoffman, but what about actors who start in the dark?"

Full article here.

Her whole article was pretty cynical, and while I see her points, I have to disagree (with this one). The comparison of portraying real people vs. fictional ones is the fact that the real people portrayals, while having a "model" to go off of, have much more to live up to in the eyes of the public. It's much more of a challenge. People wouldn't give a shit if Jack Twist (Jake in Brokeback) had black hair or blonde, but if Philip Seymour Hoffman didn't perfect his verbal stylings or look the perfect part, there is no way he would've won.

So in conclusion, I think it takes more skill to accurately play the role of someone who once lived than to make up your own image of a character - because it's easier for people to criticize.

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