Pitching- Hollywood's Pastime

Bannen's done. I'm taking meetings now. And I'm currently preparing to pitch ideas. When I think about what the hell I'm going to say in a pitch meeting my mind wanders to the concept of "pitching" itself.

First off, I hate baseball. It hurts my soul that I have to use this analogy. Regardless, I swallow my pride and recognize the three important proponents to pitching.

a) There’s the pitcher- or the writer/director who’s doing the pitching, ie, me, in this case.

b) There’s the ball, which represents the idea.

c) And then there’s the… hitter in this All-American comparison who symbolizes the producer who’s hopefully gonna knock your idea out of the park.

That’s if you’re a great a pitcher, he’s a great hitter and you throw the ball right down the middle of the plate. To hit a home run, you really gotta have your pitch down, it has to be a great idea, and the producer has to be receptive to your idea and be able to do something with it…

But do you need all three to be able to get a film made? As evidenced by all the shit that’s out there these days, I’m guessing that Hollywood is fine with 2 out of the 3, resulting in a lot of base hits.

My job as the writer/director/pitcher is to be a salesman. I need to talk about my idea- no matter what it is- and nod emphatically as I go, convincing him that my speaking about my brainchild makes me giddy because its just that genius!

But lets say I suck at this…

Lets say I stumble over my logline, I ruin the catch-phrases, and I nervously repeat unimportant details for clarity’s sake. How would I possibly get a film made?

Well, it better be a great-fucking-idea, I’ll tell you that much. It better be able to pitch itself. And if its Spielberg, maybe he’ll know what to do with it.

In our baseball analogy, it’d be the equivalent of having Babe Ruth batting off a T-ball stand. He’s not going to hit it out of the park- especially if I can’t get behind the pitch and execute it to its fullest. But maybe we’ll get a double or triple out of it.

Well, lets say I’m a motherfucker and I got my pitch down pat. I’ve been practicing and I know which parts to emphasize and, based on reactions, I can judge when to skip those unimportant details. I can say it forwards and backwards (however unnecessary it is to say it backwards- but I do it only when requested just to show off how well I got it down). And again, lets assume I’m talking to Spielberg, god willing. I’ve been granted an audience of the highest sort and he’s crouched over the plate, and he aims dramaticaly for the back bleachers…

But lets say, instead of throwing a baseball, I wind up and pitch, say… a piece of shit?

What if my idea sucks? I mean, c’mon, we got Spielberg behind the plate and I managed to wad up that piece of shit into a semi-solid shape and send it right down the middle. Well, he can connect as much as he wants but the shit’s just gonna splatter all over anyone within earshot.

Lets be honest, we’ve all seen big guns executing bad ideas and all that happened was a bunch of shit splattered all over the screen.

But what if the idea is not a piece of shit? No, this is not only a top-of-the-line Rawlings (or whatever brand makes baseballs), but this rubber cement/wool (whatever a baseball is made out of) comes with its own set of wing-gliders that pop out of the sides once its in the air, to ensure that it sails…

lets just say the idea is good…

And lets say I’ve got my pitch down as stated above. I wind up, and wink because I know how good this is going to be; what with the gliders and all, it can practically pitch itself! But in this glorious vision I also send that fucker right down the middle of the plate…

And then lets say the hitter… I dunno… would rather be getting a massage. He’s loosely gripping the bat with one hand, a latte in the other; and he half-heartedly yanks his arm in my general direction, to give the impression he gives a fuck.

In this imaginary scenario this guy is fully capable of hitting it out of the park- he just doesn’t feel like it. There are plenty of producers out there who have the resources but can’t spot a good idea to save their life…

The other possibility is it’s a kid who’s grown up watching baseball, he’s studied everything about the physics of hitting… but he just can’t do it himself…

In both of these cases, maybe you’ll get a bunt- or a foul ball at most, but you won’t be stealing home in this scenario, that’s for sure.

Then there are those rare cases when only one of the three elements is in place. Unfortunately, miraculously, movies get made like this. I’m seeing images of a lone batter lofting a piece of shit in the air, swinging valiantly, and sending spotty brown chunks all over himself; Or the pitcher saying “fuck this non-existent batter, I’m gonna try and toss this piece of shit over the back wall myself.”

Okay, its my analogy that’s gone to shit really.

The point is I know at this stage that my job is to craft and/or acquire the best ideas possible, and then get it down so I can talk about it like its part of my childhood lore, and then make sure I find the right person who can do something with it.

It’s a tough business and there’s a lot of people out there who are stepping up to the plate… or the pitcher’s mound… or whatever…

I don't mind pitching, as long as I don't have to be anywhere near an actual baseball stadium.

~ JW

Anti Anti-Juddering

I’ve been watching The Wire series recently with a buddy of mine- we’ll call him “Amir”… because that’s his name. So Amir and I watched all of Season 1 at my house. When Season 2 came around Amir requests that we watch it at his house this time...

You need to understand that I’m very particular about my TV/movie watching. I like a nice sound level where you can feel the action. I don’t like open windows that cause glare on my screen. And I want a nice size Television set with a high resolution so it looks as good as possible.

Amir assures me that he just got a new Samsung TV that’s top-of-the-line! So I sigh audibly... and then reluctantly agree out of respect to go to his house (since he made the trek to my house so many times before). So... Season 2... The Wire… Amir's house...

We pop in the DVD in his PS3, start the movie… and immediately I noticed something was off…

As the new opening titles rolled, I asked him if his new Samsung TV was on a weird setting. He reassured me that this was a new TV. Top-of-the-line. The guy who installed it set it to the optimal setting.

I sat there confused…

Then I wondered if HD was becoming more prevalent when Season 2 of The Wire was being shot- and they just fucked it up. However, I quickly dismissed that since I heard that all of the show was shot in film so it couldn’t have been that.

The show started and I really analyzed what I felt was wrong with the picture quality. It seemed to me that the actors moved in a peculiar way; I described it as they were moving like vampires. It wasn’t smooth. They kinda... jumped around. It was as if I could see every frame more clearly and it was, ironically, creating a choppy effect.

After watching the first episode I played with his settings and found that his contrast was set at 100%. I, of course, criticized him for boosting his contrast to its max setting. His response,

“Can you really have too much contrast? Have you ever had a piece of chocolate and said ‘Well, this is just too chocolate-y’?” To which I responded

“Well, have you ever had coffee and said “that’s too strong’?” If he didn’t understand my point there then he was never going to get it. I lowered his contrast to 60% and we started the next episode…

Lowering the contrast helped a bit; still, it seemed off somehow. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. After the 2^nd episode I found this setting that said Auto Motion Plus 120hz. I switched that fucker off and I skipped to the middle of the episode again…

“Thank God! You must have this on anti-juddering or something.” I tried to explain to him that Spielberg’s Cinematographer, Janusz Kaminski, did this thing in Saving Private Ryan where he adjusted the shutter angle to reduce the natural blur that gives the illusion of motion- so the end result feels choppy; that’s kind of like what anti-juddering achieves in a digital way…

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rotary_disc_shutter

His blank stare and half-hearted "uh-huh" suggested to me that he didn’t really know what I was talking about. And I also realized that I didn’t know what I was talking about so I did some research...

Most of us know about the different types of resolutions, anything from 480p (enhanced-Definition TV at 4:3 aspect ratio, 720p (HDTV, with a 16:9 aspect ratio), and then you have your 1080i (interlaced) and your 1080p (progressive). These are considered “full HD” and are similar to 2K digital cinema technology…

Most programming I believe is in 480p. HD programming as well as PS3 and Xbox 360 gaming requires 720p and very little, save for Blu Ray- or the rare video game or show, gets up to 1080p. Anyway, it gets a bit more complicated than this- and beyond my own understanding- but for now this makes my point. 1080 seems to be the best solution for watching films on your television…

Except that these high-end televisions are 60hz which means they refresh their image 60 times a second. This produces a clearer image- ideal for digital films shot in 30 fps (frames per second). However, for traditional films shot at 24fps, they have to do what’s called a 3:2 pulldown which means that for every three frames that are displayed there is a single video frame being displayed twice. This is necessary when converting 24 fps to 30fps (or 29.97fps) but it can cause a jittery effect when a lot of motion is taking place in the film- this was later termed “juddering”.

The manufacturers' answer to this problem is the 120hz televisions. Now you can display digital film shot at 30 or 60fps, and you can also display 24fps, as it divides evenly (120/5=24) as well…

Since the refresh rate has doubled to 120hz, each frame is super sharp. Not only that, but to further eliminate that “nasty blurring” that can be found on a single frame they created something called “anti-juddering”- or motion interpolation technology…

Different manufacturers have their own market-friendly names for them like Sony’s Motion Flow, or Sharp’s TrueD, or Toshiba’s Film Stabilization, or in Amir’s new LCD Samsung: Auto Motion Plus 120hz. However they wanna deem it, the aimed effect is to “smooth” out the image, creating what has been referred to as a “soap-opera effect.”

Here’s the thing: a lot of people are digging this effect because they say it looks more real. Sure, if you’re watching football, Planet Earth, or anything originally shot in HD I’m sure its fine, but lets go back to film history for a second here.

The film industry decided decades ago that shooting 24 frames/second was the cheapest and most effective way to recreate real life on the big screen. If you record things in fast-motion and analyze an individual frame you will see a blurred image. This tricks the eye into thinking its really seeing something in motion, when actually you’re looking at 24 individual frames per second…

Now if we were to artificially go into these still frames and “clean them up” by removing that blur so they appear “sharper” what you’ll be sacrificing is that illusion of proper movement. When I was watching The Wire, which again was shot at 24 fps, the characters seemed to strobe- I felt like I was high and highly perceiving each individual frame.

So this is where the debate lies…

Some people swear by this anti-juddering technology that sharpens the image. I, myself, am a purist and I want to watch my films- on my Television- as close to what it would be like to actually project the image onto my television. Most film connoisseurs I know, whether they’re directors, cinematographers, or just fans, prefer it this way as well. And it’s the people who can’t perceive the difference- or don’t care- that are baited into buying these “high-end” TVs.

Why, if people think that soap operas look cheap, would they want to invest in a television that creates a “Soap-Opera Effect”? I don’t get it.

By the way, you can turn off anti-juddering but you cannot prevent your television from displaying at 120hz if its that type of television. I already think its bad enough to have an overly sharpened film, but adding anti-juddering goes too far.

In the end, I get watching sports, or gaming with one of these TVs, but as far as The Wire goes, trust me, if I could project that shit onto my TV in 24fps I totally would. For now, I’m going to wait until technology settles this little mess out and TVs drop in price.

~ JW

The Death of an Artist

I recently lost a friend of mine. Justin Mentell died in a car accident on a highway in rural Wisconsin on Feb 1^st, 2010. As a 27 year old he was an accomplished actor, drummer, painter, and championship speed-skater among many other things.

Let me be clear when I refer to Justin Mentell as a “friend”. Justin was not somebody I regularly got drinks with- not that I would have minded. Nor was he even someone whom I called periodically on the phone to say “What’s up?” To be fair, I should probably call him an acquaintance whom I sincerely wish I knew better.

He's probably most known for his character, Garrett Wells, on Boston Legal. More recently he appeared in G-Force. He received the Golden Reel award for Best Actor in a short, At Still Point.

He was a young actor who was on his way; and he was so much more...

I hadn’t seen Justin in a couple months- since the art show he invited me to. When I first heard what happened I was sort of shocked. I just sat there. A friend of mine gave me a few seconds to process before giving me his condolences. Although, I didn’t think it was fair for me to be sad. There were many more people who were closer to him. I dismissed my friend’s offer of sympathy. I sat there for a bit longer staring at the floor; and then I returned to my social circumstances and went on talking with my friend standing before me.

Then a couple days later I was writing and Justin popped in my head; like he was paying me a visit. It soon preoccupied my mind entirely and I felt compelled to call him; in a perverse gesture to hear his voice one more time…

The number was apparently forwarded to a woman’s machine that I didn’t recognize…

I went to his facebook page and found a Rest in Peace site had been put up. Tons of memories flooded back to me as well as fresh tears. I found myself writing a message to… to anyone… who cared to read the page…

I didn’t feel that was enough so I posted my condolences on my own page. Within an hour I had a dozen comments and messages of other peoples condolences for my loss…

My loss…?

I was confused. I felt very selfish all of a sudden. Why do I get to use this opportunity to gain sympathy from my friends? This isn’t about me. This isn’t about any of us mortals outside of his family and closest friends.

I prioritized who experienced the biggest loss; Justin being first, his family next, soon followed by his closest friends. At best, I was right outside that circle. So why the tears, Jess?

That’s when I realized the impact on humanity when we lose a true artist like Justin Mentell…

I first met Justin in New York at the Tribeca Film Festival. My wife, Autumn Reeser, was in a movie called Palo Alto that was premiering there. I watched this Independent movie that was made by some very young, talented filmmakers. It was a coming-of-age story surrounding four friends on Thanksgiving break from their first year in college, following their individual stories.

The main thing that stood out to me about the film was the character of Ryan, whom I’d never seen before. I happened to be writing a script at the time, called 11:11, and there was a character named (ironically enough) “Cyan” whom this guy playing “Ryan” in Palo Alto would be perfect for. The role in my script was something I always intended to play myself but whoever this actor was seemed to be the ideal casting for this part. And it kinda pissed me off to be honest. I leaned over to Autumn,

“What’s that actor’s name?”

“Justin Mentell” she whispered back quietly in the theatre.

“He’s really good,” I stated flatly. She nodded enthusiastically. But I thought to myself. ‘No. He’s really good.’

I found myself scanning the cast in the audience to see if I could find him. Then I went back to the screen. His character was dark, brooding but the actor didn’t judge himself. He was living in this character. It was simple but I don’t see enough actors execute this realistic style of acting effectively. And I don’t mean “realistic” in the “naturalistic” just-say-the-lines sense . He made strong choices as well that made him very interesting to watch...

The kind of performance that provides insight into humanity because it seems to really affect that actor on screen.

I assumed when I would meet this "Justin kid" later that night that he must be as much of an asshole as his character…

Boy, was I wrong.

We all went for drinks at the local pub and I ended up chatting with him about screenwriting. He was very enthusiastic about life and his infectious smile removed any doubt of that; later in life I would meet Daniel Day-Lewis who shocked me with his contrasting real-life persona from his characters.

In short, Justin was a real treat to have met that night.

I ended up sending 11:11 to Justin when we got back to LA. He really liked it and I always intended to use him if I could ever get the script off the ground. I ended up getting distracted with The Bannen Way and have since shelved the project.

Crossing paths with Justin again, he heard there was a character named Zeke, Bannen’s techy college sidekick in my new project. I told Justin he was not right for the character but he was really interested in expanding his range of casting. He ended up putting together a concept for the character and sent me some photos of himself as Zeke, complete with headphones and computers in front of him.

As much as I admired his passion I assured him I’d find a better role for him in the future. And he was definitely someone I wanted to find the ideal part for- because I knew he was going to blow up some day. For Justin, it was just a matter of time.

Months later I find out he’s having an art show, and I had no idea he was even a painter. If you know Justin, then he was also the kind of guy who could decide he was… whatever-he-wanted and would become that.

Whether it was painting…

http://tinyurl.com/yadcuep

drumming…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50RXxNaAnbs

or even speed-skating… (sorry, no pic)

He could do anything he set his mind to, letting go of that middle class attitude of “I’m either this or that because society tells me to pick one”. He was accomplished in whatever he did because he was a true artist, capable of instilling himself in anything.

And this is why we all experience loss when someone like Justin Mentell passes too early…

Because when someone like Justin puts himself wholly in anything and everything that he does it reminds us of what humans are capable of- and provides insight into humanity itself.

Especially when the young and talented pass, like in the “27 Club”: Janis Joplin, Kurt Kobain, Jimi Hendrix, and Brian Jones- its sad to think about what these people could have accomplished had they been allowed a traditional lifetime.

I found it fitting to see a picture of James Dean in the top-right corner of this photo Justin sent me a couple years ago.

The Death of an Artist denies the world a chance to learn about themselves through the work. Knowing that, I feel wholly justified in mourning the loss of such a man as Justin. I earn each and every one of my tears because I know its truly my loss now that he's passed.

I’m proud to say I knew such a talented, wonderful person. I regret I never got a chance to direct him. But I’ll always recall his spirit as a source of inspiration.

My condolences to those closer to him than I was...

And to rest of us who could have learned more from his example...

Rest in Peace, Justin Mentell.

~ JW

Some Musical Inspiration

Art is this circular source of inspiration that constantly draws from its diverse cousins- as well as life- to contribute to its own evolution. No single discipline could have developed without the mutual advancement of the others.

A wandering eye at an art gallery can catch a glimpse of a painting and immediately (through no fault of your own) an entire story can be told…

At UCLA, we used to have this class called “Art Alive” where we would take a painting and write a scene around it. At some point in the story the characters would have to incorporate the pose of the painting- demonstrating how a single image can inspire so much more. Granted, the scenes were mostly terrible but it was an interesting experiment nonetheless.

One of the other things we would draw from- as actors- was dance. It was a freeing exercise that informed our bodies the possibilities of movement. Again, I was terrible at dancing but really good at waving my arms around and rolling on the ground to music.

Without music, they would call that… insanity; they certainly wouldn’t call it dancing. Which makes me ask, “Where would the discipline of dance be without music…?”

Which also made me realize that one of my own greatest sources of inspiration is music. After all, where would film be without the influence of music? So many film element parallels can be drawn from musicality.

When I think about dynamics in music- the highs and lows- it seems like a natural translation to film where the structure takes the viewer on a ride with high beats and low beats, which ultimately leads to the chicken or the egg debate.

It’s undeniable that without the influence of music where would rhythm- of a scene- come from? Or what about using crescendos in film to build tension, whether it’s in the actual music itself or by increased story tension. The same applies to decrescendos to convey a sense of calm.

When writing The Bannen Way, the concept of each character being an instrument in the story’s orchestra was definitely prevalent. Mr B had his own rhythm and tone, dominated by strings; Sonny being a totally different color, bringing almost a percussive element as well as his own form of strings; Madison providing a brighter component that melds into something mysterious, dissonant at times; Neal Bannen being the constant thread- the rockin melody, if you will, that should leave the greatest impression on the audience of what the show is all about.

I know that some people shy away from this but I, personally, like to use music when writing; ambient, classical, film scores, slow core. I never listen to heavy metal, pop, rap, or anything with heavy lyrics. I want music to contribute to my work, not dominate it.

I subscribe to Rhapsody, which gives me every album I could ever want for less than $15/month. I can create an entire playlist of “writing music” and keep finding new albums based on other user’s suggestions or the program’s list of contemporaries or inspirations for any group.

While writing this blog I’m listening to a mixture of three bands: The xx, Broken Social Scene, and Amazing Baby.

The great thing about writing with music is it provides images in my brain whenever I get stuck (which happens a lot). It serves as a provider of random colors that I can add to an, otherwise flat, moment.

If I’m writing a scene that is gentle, romantic, I want music that contributes to that tone; sometimes light classical. If I’m writing a scene that is epic in proportion, like the scene at Inspiration Point in Bannen then I’ll put on the soundtrack to Dark Knight and loop that fucker ‘til I’m feverishly typing the scene out to the swells of the orchestra.

I wish I found more opportunities to use music on set. The couple times we had them for the two Sonny scenes really contributed to the actors’ performances. Especially when we were shooting the moment when Sonny (Ski Carr) is about to kill our hero, and Catalina (Melissa De Sousa) puts on some deep, slow salsa music that she draws her violent, gangster lover over to dance with her. I told the actors the tone I was looking for in that music and they came up with Marc Anthony’s “Que Lio.” They choreographed something with an instructor and came up with their own routine. And that became my favorite moment on set. Anyone who was behind the monitors became so enthralled with that moment that one of the development guys broke into applause.

I wish we could have used that song in the final picture but for obvious reasons we had to come up with an alternative. Sony’s Extreme Music library couldn’t save us in this particular instance, but thank God for my composer, Joseph Trapanese, and music editor, Will Holliday, who used their resources and whipped up something at the last minute that totally works.

Normally composers come in after picture lock but we didn’t have that luxury of time so my music team had to start working while we were shooting…

I went through the script and made notes of every opportunity for music and what it could feel like and handed that to Joseph. He created about 12 “themes” for each of the characters, and situations Bannen might get into. We used those in lieu of temp music as much as we could. And what developed was a dynamic trial-and-error system for honing the music for the piece. Not only was Joe able to see what we were doing and meld the music to the piece but we also were able to- for those rare times when it was needed- edit the film to the music.

It was such a rewarding experience. If it were up to me I wouldn’t do it any other way in the future.

At my request, we use a lot of music in Bannen in the interest of keeping the story moving (I believe 75 minutes worth). It’s typically there to tell the audience how to feel in a particular moment. It’s a great crutch but I’m also interested in the absence of music. Shows like The Wire and Mad Men use almost no scoring whatsoever; and they’re amazingly compelling. The trick is using music to emphasize a moment without it being too obvious and contrived.

Music has the ability to elevate a moving image and provide subtext that even the actors couldn’t convey. It can make the audience shed tears of sadness, pee their pants in laughter, or jump out of their seats in fear. In short, it moves us. If the story is the spine of a picture, then music is the heart.

Without my playlists that I listen to on my computer when I’m doing a writing session, or the music that blasts in my car radio, or the random songs that play when I pass by a department store… without music it would be a heartless world indeed.

Reward yourself with The Bannen Way soundtrack on iTunes. =)

http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/the-bannen-way-soundtrack/id348430676

~ JW

The Invisible Adaptation

Whenever I decide to write a new screenplay I look through my library of ideas and I compare them to what’s currently in production on imdb- and see if any trends correspond.

This time it occurred to me that I may be fucked.

What I noticed was that everything being made was based either on a novel, a comic book, a video game, or itself.

I immediately recalled going to dinner with a friend of mine who works as an exec at a huge studio and they said their boss held a meeting for all the departments- this was to determine the new direction their studio was to be headed. And they said “The studios are making money off of adapted material so I want you to buy the rights to everything you can.” To which my friend responded to us

“Can you believe that was his big advice? Duh!”

So lets track this a bit…

The novel has been adapted almost since the beginning of narrative film-making. You take a solid story in a book- or play- and you turn it into an Oscar-winning film. Anything from The Philadelphia Story, to The Godfather, to Lord of the Rings. It makes sense, they have an inherent audience from the original work- and those people want to see how their own imagination of the story translates to film.

This trend still continues today. Some projects in development include Atlas Shrugged, Water for Elephants, Wicked, and Life of Pi.

But, c’mon, this is Hollywood, and we can take it a step further. This town’s not afraid to “dumb it down a bit” when money’s to be made. After all, there’s a whole slew of comic books out there.

Hollywood has felt that comics have been legitimate sources of adaptation material for decades. Batman and Superman have been around since the 40s and have been remade numerous times since. The last few years have been no exception.

Christopher Nolan took the Batman franchise to a whole new level with Dark Knight- one of the top-grossing films to date. For a story that had been squeezed for all its worth, Nolan found new depths for these characters and this former comic book stands on its own next to our most respected novel adaptations.

That’s the extreme example. There’s still your Iron Man, your Spiderman, your Watchmen, and all the failed adaptations like Spawn, Ghost Rider, and The Hulk. Hollywood has found that whether they do well or not, people will go see them anyway.

So now there is a mad rush to turn anything that has ever been a comic into a movie.

From Marvel Enterprises alone we not only have The Avengers, but we have Captain America… Yes… one of the members of The Avengers… his own movie.

It seems like every character is getting their own movie now- combine that with a star name and you got Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool, Samuel L Jackson as Nick Fury, and Tyrese Gibson as Luke Cage.

And then you have Columbia Pictures who’s putting Marc Webb, the director of 500 Days of Summer, in charge of the “reboot” of the entire Spiderman series.

What’s the bottom line? In the words of my studio exec friend, “Duh!” Money. These films make money. The rare exceptions win Oscars. But nothing is more important to Hollywood than money. And nothing pisses off Hollywood more than other industries making more money than they are.

And that’s exactly what happened when Halo 3 came out. It made $170 million in the first 24 hours it came out- something a feature film has never touched. The Dark Knight made $65 million in its first day, but that doesn’t hold a candle to Halo 3. I guarantee your kids favorite video games will be made into a movie if it did well enough financially. A glimpse at some upcoming titles in development…

Halo, Metal Gear Solid, Bioshock, Gears of War, Mass Effect, God of War, Splinter Cell, etc, etc...

So its proven that any adapted material can be financially lucrative. But what happens when a movie is successful and there’s more juice to squeeze? Well, adapted or not, as long as it has a built-in audience, they make a sequel…!

Ghostbusters 3, The Hangover 2, Transformers 3, Kill Bill: Vol 3, Terminator 5, Paranormal Activity 2, Underworld 4, Sin City 2 & 3 (yes, 3 has already been green-lit before 2 came out), Indiana Jones 5, Mission Impossible 4, Austin Powers 4,

I don’t know about you but that list always makes me pee my pants a little bit. But as a further reminder of how narrow-minded Hollywood can be, what do they do when they run out of fresh, adapted material and they still don’t want to take risks on original work… they remake everything all over again…

Child’s Play, Robocop, Dune, The Lone Ranger, The Birds(!), Tron, Hellraiser, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Blob, The Seven Samurai(!!)…

Notice that most of these movies are from the 80s. Since that was one of the most fucked up decades in the history of anything, I’m not surprised modern filmmakers think they can take those ideas and make them better.

I even had a meeting with Paramount’s online department when my show, The Bannen Way, was going into production at Sony and this guy offered to my partner and I the opportunity to adapt previous movies into Web Series. Yes, they were developing original works, but mainly they wanted to adapt from previous successes.

So what does this mean to a young screenwriter who wants to get his film career going when everything that is being bought is based on something else? What options do I have?

a) Write a book, comic, or… video game? Hmm… as easy as that sounds, they would still have to build a huge audience first.

b) Buy the rights to whatever’s available- in any medium- and pitch it as a film. Totally viable but how expensive will that be? Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a lost gem that everyone else overlooked but, truthfully, isn’t everyone looking for that kind of shit these days? I’d be competing against massive studios with greater resources.

c) Keep pitching fresh ideas and hope one of them sticks.

So here I sit wondering what my next screenplay is going to be about. I got tons of ideas. But having written half a dozen scripts that have “missed the mark” I’m much more precious with my time and energy.

The good news is there’s hope. I call it “The Invisible Adaptation”. Its simply taking an original idea and saying its loosely based on a classic piece of material. This isn’t a new concept, but simply a way to validate your project- to make you appear more well-read and give added meaning to your, otherwise, “boringly modern” story.

This has been done since the beginning of time, and a lot of them can be traced back to Shakespeare, which can, in turn, be traced to the ancient Greeks who likely originated the 7 (or 8, or however many is debated these days) basic storylines.

Not many know that Lion King was based on the story of Hamlet, or that West Side Story was based on Romeo and Juliet, or that The Magnificent Seven was based on Seven Samurai, or even that 10 Things I Hate About You was based on The Taming of the Shrew.

For some reason, this notion excites me. I sit forward, pitched at an angle over my keyboard, hungry to see which of my ideas can be blanketed with a classic theme, so that I can sit across from an executive, and whisper with a dainty gesture of my wrist

“By the way, this is loosely based on Homer’s The Odyssey”

And I expect him to have that look of realization on his face, that the story makes clearer sense and is immediately legitimized. For some reason, now he cares about the idea.

Who am I kidding? I’ll probably end up basing my next script on my own life- a story about a frustrated artist trying to make it in Hollywood.

At least that’s original.

[sigh]

~ JW

Your Personal Genius

Have you ever had one of those inspired, “genius moments”- a total gut reaction- and someone asked you how you knew how to do it… ?

And you said to yourself…

“I don’t know- I just knew!”…?

Two things that I love about life…

a) the inter-connectedness of all things; what you find to be true in one aspect of your world magically seems to apply to another.

b) Everything I need to understand about my own existence can be exemplified from my favorite movies.

Most of us have seen The Last Samurai where Tom Cruise goes Zen and takes down all the trained swordsmen around him, albeit, in Slow Mo. He does it by letting go and trusting his inner genius, essentially freeing his intuition to react to the situation.

Star Wars is all about this concept. The Karate Kid touches on something similar. This is not a new idea but I don’t see it practiced enough and I became very interested in how to produce it so it didn’t just strike me in random moments. Whether you wanna call it “trusting your instincts”, “unlocking your inner genius”, or “using the force”- its up to you.

When I studied at the Beverly Hills Playhouse, my late great teacher, Milton Katselas, used to refer to these kinds of things as your Personal Genius. He urged us actors to use our instincts and react in the moment based on our life experiences.

He often talked about when he knew Salvidor Dali, who I always knew as an artist who painted whatever popped into his mind- dripping clocks, tall elephants with spindly legs- and analyzed the significance of these images later…

That notion drove me crazy when I was younger. I was pissed that he wouldn’t intentionally use symbolism to convey his ideas. But over the years I’m finding many of my favorite artists keep coming back to Dali’s suggestion of…

“Paint to find out what the picture is”- Katselas would repeat this mantra he got from one of his favorite mentors until it stuck in our minds.

When Katselas was directing me in Hamlet that was our main area of attention. I found that task very difficult, especially since his directing style was, for lack of a better word, micro-managing. However, if I could “let go” as he wanted then I could use his well-crafted structure and instinctively react within those confines to create a freedom that cohesively told a story.

Of course, being the intellectual freak that I am- and going totally against the very nature of what he was teaching- I had to analyze how to manufacture this genius state whenever I needed it…

The way I see it, there are 3 steps. I’m going to call them the Three Rs because I got lucky and I found the correct synonyms to fit what I’m talking about.

STEP 1: Research.

In order to gain a base understanding of your craft, you need to fuel your brain with as much intellectual knowledge as you can. This is using your analytical mind- the left side- to acquire information and build a foundation.

STEP 2: Repetition

This can be synonymous with research, but there are many instances where studying it and practicing are a separate task. Its about training your mind and/or body through repetition- effectively transferring from the left brain to the right brain. (Let me be clear that I’m not a psychologist- I’m theorizing here)

STEP 3: Release

This is where you purposely let go of everything you’ve learned. Its a total reliance on the right side of your brain; trusting that your mind/body will instinctively know what to do.

Now lets take a couple examples…

I study Jeet Kune Do, this is Bruce Lee’s invented martial arts system that he felt was the most practical form of street-fighting; ultimately, it’s a combination of Wing Chung Kung Fu, American Boxing and French Fencing.

STEP 1 involves intellectually understanding the concepts Bruce Lee laid out. You can read his book, The Tao of Jeet Kune Do, or you can have a teacher demonstrate these conceptually. Without knowing these you wouldn’t understand what to do physically.

STEP 2 is the repetition of these movements. Lets say you punch a thousand times, carving out the motion Bruce Lee suggested, and you replicate this over and over and over again, until it becomes second nature. This process acts as transference from your intellectual mind to your body.

STEP 3 is about letting it all go. If you understood the concepts intellectually to begin with and repetition sank them into your body then your inner genius should know what to do for you. This is how Tom Cruise went Zen in The Last Samurai and Luke Skywalker was able to use the force in Star Wars. And that’s how Daniel Larusso was able to… execute a well-timed crane kick.

Then the question becomes, how do you let go…?

That’s where the money is. I’m not sure what the definitive answer is. That may be more particular to the discipline.

For Jeet Kune Do, I found that it helps to just focus on “making the hit”. And if an impulse comes to me, I go with it. If I judge the impulse, and I intellectualize “Well, is that really the best way to attack? What if—“

SMACK!! I’ll probably get hit first.

I have had about 2 instances in Jeet Kune Do where I was able to achieve this to an effective degree. I was sparring with a friend of mine from class. Every time I felt an opening I hit him. Every time he attacked me I was able to deflect and/or send one back first. After a couple minutes straight of him not being able to touch me my friend and opponent backed away, put down his dukes and smiled. “Jesus, Jess- how did you do that?!” Dumbfounded, I snapped out of it for a second,

“I don’t know. I just knew.” My Sifu was standing right next to us. We had a Karate Kid moment and my Mister Miyagi simply nodded at me:

“That’s how its done” and he walked off.

(Yes, it was very dramatic.)

I only came close to replicating this state one other time. That Zen experience made me love the martial arts and wonder how else it could apply to other aspects of my life. In art, in relationships, does it have to have a limitation? Can we ultimately live in a constant state of genius?

By the way, don't take this shameless self-promotion as my thinking I'm somehow more superior to my fellow artists. Quite the contrary. I believe this is something everyone has at their disposal but most people don't know- or don't care- enough to talk about.

But not me. I was so excited that I wanted to practice in other areas of my life…

I host a weekly home poker game and I constantly practice letting go and relying on my instincts. I try to remain open to whatever signals I get from my opponents.

If I’ve followed Step 1, then I understand the principles of “tells” that other players give off, unknowingly revealing what is under their cards. After researching a few books and professional articles, I should know about what starting hands are optimal to play in which situations. I should understand things like pot odds, etc. Through recognizing these concepts I should know how to play in a general poker game.

If I follow Step 2, then I’ve played enough hands to know that players do particular things in particular situations. I should be able to pick up on the rhythms that are established and use them to my advantage. Combining what I know about the game with trends I see over and over again, there will be times when patterns are broken and moments of inspiration may come to me.

Then if I’m fully operating on the level of Step 3, I should be able to stop analyzing and pick up instinctually on the unspoken game of poker. I sense what I often refer to as a “void of energy”. When I feel it I’ll look at the opponent from where I feel it coming from; and usually he’ll give it away with his apparent behavior. This can mean he’s bluffing’ or he’s got “the nuts”. Depending on the situation, it can become obvious which one it is. And looking back at the way the hand unfolded I’ve been able to call out someone’s exact hole cards. To which they flip them over, mouth agape, and ask how I knew what their cards were...

“I don’t know… I just knew.”

But how does this apply to film-making…?

In every way…!

Whether it’s acting- the obvious parallel- or the writing process, or even directing where you’re expected to operate on many different levels, this concept applies. I don’t see why it shouldn’t affect every discipline of filmmaking where any amount of creativity is involved: costume, cinematography, set design, editing, fluffing, etc.

As a budding screenwriter, I’ve read as many books as I could get my hands on over the years. I know how to structure a story. I know how to make a character more sympathetic to the audience if I so desire. I can say that I have a fairly solid, if not, ever-evolving craft. I trust that I always have these tools in my back pocket.

Knowing that I ultimately want to get myself into an intuitive state, I do this free-association exercise that a friend of mine introduced to me…

When I sit down to work on a scene I first write for 15 minutes on anything that comes to my mind. I don’t judge. I don’t edit. I don’t stop…

I just write…

When I’ve done that I have (hopefully) entered a state of intuitive freedom. There are times when I’ll work on a scene: I know the characters. I have an understanding of how they speak. I have a general structure to how I want the scene to play out. And I just go…

I write...

And the scene unfolds before me. I actually experience it as an audience member. In my ideal writing state, I will laugh, cry, or get angry as the scene un-folds. The characters say things that oftentimes surprise even me but I never judge it. Sometimes people ask me why a character would say something so obtuse in certain circumstances. I usually respond

“I just write what the demons tell me to write.” In some cases the line may be totally inappropriate and ultimately, useless (damn demons!); but in other cases, the lines just aren’t direct- but rather, very human because people don’t always speak so on the nose.

The legitimate fear with writing based on “things that just come to you” is they can be derivative of other ideas. That’s the beauty of the writing process though. When you’re done you can switch back to your analytical mind and judge from that perspective. Ideally, you’ll craft your story over a good period of time, constantly switching back and forth between these states.

It wasn’t until I started writing like this, combined with my Jeet Kune Do experience, and my home poker game, and other random instances that I was able to understand the potential genius in all of us that Dali spoke so fondly about, and that Katselas tried to ingrain in my life-style.

Nowadays, in whatever I do, I aim to let my instincts work their course. The analytical left brain is highly overrated- useless without the creative right brain. The same is true in reverse if the foundation isn’t there. I’m finding that this is one of the secrets to creating on a higher artistic level.

Ask me how I know.

~ JW

The Complacent Smile- Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Imperfect Film

“You kill your film several times, mostly by talking about it. A film is a dream. You kill it writing it down, you kill it with a camera; the film might come back to life for a moment or two when your actors breathe life into it- but then it dies again, buried in the film cans. Mysteriously, sometimes, in the editing room, a miracle happens when you place one image next to another so that when, finally, an audience sits in the dark, if you’re lucky… the dream flickers back to life again. That’s why I’m secretive.”

This was a quote from Guido Contini (Daniel Day-Lewis) in Nine, which I saw a short while ago. While he was referring to why he doesn’t like to discuss his films publicly, its also a powerful comment on the tragic process of having a perfect image in your mind painfully destroyed before you for all the world to judge as your original vision.

It reminded me of when I went to see a SAG screening years ago of Shadow of the Vampire, directed by E Elias Merhige, who had this look on his face when he sat on the stage answering questions that could only be described as a complacent smile, covering extreme disappointment at what his film could have been. I’ve seen that look in different forms on many different directors. Merhige had it, Daniel Day-Lewis had it in his character in Nine, and all of my favorite directors seem to wear it as a permanent mask. They seem so wise, deeply disturbed, and simultaneously grateful to be in their current position. I wanted to know what was behind that façade of complacency.

I had the privilege of directing my first feature/web-series, The Bannen Way, for Sony this past year. I was proud of the script I created with my partner, Mark Gantt (along with the invisible force of producer, Bailey Williams). The original visions in my head were glorious. And we had a plan of execution. I affectionately referred to this project as “my baby”, knowing full-well the theoretical sacrifices that are made by directors on their “first-born” and how it affects them; that notion started as a naïve smile on my bright-eyed face as I set out to prove you can get everything you want as an artist and still make everyone happy…

And then I witnessed each day, throughout pre-production, production, and post-production, as the harsh realities of film-making on a budget set in, and tore my baby limb from limb…

It was at the culmination of these moments when I couldn’t watch my project any more that I fled to the theatre to watch something else- anything else- and I stumbled upon Nine. This opening monologue touched me to my very core; I started to shake. It was the epitome of what I had been feeling for the past several months.

It brought me back to another quote I had heard earlier on in the process (that’s what happens when you have A.D.D., by the way, you are constantly brought back to previous moments. Welcome to my world)…

“You have to sacrifice certain moments so that others may live.” Stated by my extremely talented DP, Roger Chingirian, he delivered it with such feigned importance- as if pretending the phrase was being created for the first time, though we mutually laughed at how tired that saying is. It was his attempt, without being too significant, to get us to cut down the script to make the shoot more manageable. But at that point I was done making sacrifices…

After all, in pre-production, I had already given up the parkour sequence…

Oh, the parkour sequence. If you don’t know what parkour (or parcour) is then rent Casino Royale and watch the opening action sequence. Or watch any portion of District 13. For now, just know that it that centers around the concept of getting from Point A to Point B as quickly and efficiently as possible. Its fun, its energetic, and its amazing to watch.

I had been taking classes on this new-ish craze as I fully planned on integrating it into The Bannen Way. The box that our hero, Neal Bannen, is desperately trying to recover is stolen by a group of these parkour thugs late in Act 2, headed by their French leader, Marcel. In Act 3, Bannen is to outwit them and run away with the box, only to be chased by twenty of these athletic geniuses.

My goal was to be on the cutting edge of anything like this before it became a well-known concept by the masses. And it was perfect trailer fodder…

Alas, we couldn’t afford it for our film and the ship has officially passed on any ingenuity it may have brought as there’s a big-budget movie called Parkour coming out and they’re doing the sequel to District 13; the market’s already becoming as over-saturated with parkour as vampires are these days.

This was the first time I experienced the mourning process over something that was in my head that would never end up on screen. My vision of how the story flowed, and the type of movement it would elicit had to be compromised because we simply couldn’t afford it.

Let me be clear that Sony was right to eliminate that first as we all had another goal to keep in mind: to make high-quality programming on the web that could actually make money. And if they funded every idea that came to Mark and me then they’d be broke. Our initial job was to dream up the best possible story and it was then, collectively, all our jobs to cut out what wasn’t cost-effective.

Our script got cut down to a point where we felt that the story would seriously be sacrificed if we got rid of any more. All car chases were gone. Many characters were eliminated. It was a real challenge keeping the integrity of the core of our story together. We were all finally convinced that what we had was doable, though extremely challenging to execute.

But there were many more sacrifices to be made in Production. Time was always a factor. And many of my “specialty” shots had to go. There were times we had to do the bare minimum to tell the story, Roger and I eking out as much style as we could within those constraints. We always had to consider how long it would take to light in a different direction so a lot of my “stylistic angles” were shelved in order to get through the day. It was heart-breaking, but totally necessary.

Granted, these kinds of constraints are not uncommon, though I was told on numerous occasions that if one could get through this then they could get through anything. And it didn’t stop there…

In post, dialogue that I thought was essential in defining a character was left on the virtual cutting floor so that we could keep the film at 90 minutes in order to sell it easier on DVD. I’m really into shows like Mad Men and I’m making my way through The Wire right now. They’re both examples where characters are given space to breathe and live in the space. Nothing feels rushed. It sets a tone. It positions the audience in such a way that creates a tension that can’t be attained by hastening through moments.

In our case, we simply needed the movie to be shorter. That meant chopping dialogue that everyone seemed to like; that meant cutting out space between lines that could have informed the audience about character; that surprisingly didn’t mean cutting out any scenes, although we did stylistically combine three scenes at one point to move the story along- which is an interesting by-product of creating ideas within constraints that wouldn’t have come about otherwise; Necessity being the mother of invention and all that…

As much as I pleaded with our development guys to keep the film longer, their hands were tied as well. As much as they wanted to give the movie everything it deserved, the reality of making a movie was rearing its ugly head. I was to be no exception to this rule. Thankfully my brilliant editor, Zack Arnold, was prepared for such limitations and helped me make compromises that appeased all parties.

Every element of filmmaking was affected by these constraints: Sound, lighting, time with actors, you name it…

But in a way that’s the beauty of it- the fleeting nature of filmmaking. Its about creating as many moments as possible. When those moments actually occur on screen it makes them all the more sweet because of the difficult spirit of this craft. Its not reserved for artistic endeavors though.

Athletes can train their entire lives for their big shot and have it taken away from them at the last second. As a former professional runner (when I used to go by my given name, Jess Strutzel) I wanted nothing more than to make the Olympic Team in the 800 meters. In 2000, I was in the lead in the final round with 100 meters to go only to physically fall apart and get passed by the field, missing the Olympic Team by 1 second…

Trying again in 2004, my first race of the season marked the fastest time in America that year; there was nothing that could stand in my way… Until I proceeded to fall in a local 5K, skinning up my knee, which I trained through. Then I got a virus, which slowed me down- but I continued to train through it. And finally I got a stress fracture in my foot due to over-training, which I couldn’t overcome and my Olympic Dreams were shelved forever.

That’s when I finally turned my full attention to filmmaking. Thankfully in this craft, its not all-or-nothing. You just try to create as many of those magical moments as possible- and strive to fulfill that original vision to the best of your ability.

While watching the rest of Nine, I realized that this happens to every director. For the most part, the audience never sees the imperfections but the director inevitably cringes at painfully obvious flaws, missed opportunities, and miniscule details that could have improved less-than-perfect moments.

This tragic, yet beautiful, reality sank in; and, in retrospect, as much as I like to keep that “divine dissatisfaction” in everything I do- that innate desire that keeps me striving for something better, I took a calming breath… And I whispered quietly to myself…

“I’m proud of my first feature film.” And a gentle, complacent smile settled on my somewhat-wiser face.

~ JW