How to Make a Crappy Independent Film

I go to film festivals from time to time. It helps that I live in LA and there seems to be a plethora of them for every demographic and geographic subsection that is Los Angeles.

I go because when I see a “gem” of a film, I brag to everyone that I saw it before them. Plus, it’s good to support the up and coming artists who will eventually lay siege to the Hollywood establishment.

And there’s all the bad films that one must endure during a film festival circuit.

I just went to one, not too long ago, to see a friend make his debut as an actor (kinda cool — he has a bright future ahead of him).

As I was watching all of these films, I realized that there are certain commonalities that deem an independent film as a bad one. Kinda how like some people say that you can tell that someone you date is a bad because of things you notice in the first five minutes (nervous tics, mention of his appearance on To Catch a Predator (30 Rock and intertexuality babeeeee), etcetera).

To aspiring film makers, please do not put the following in your indepdendent film or it will be crappy:

1. Bad piano music as a soundtrack (composed by your friend).

2. Ugly people as your leads (and I don’t mean like plain, but just kinda repulsive ugly). No one cares about ugly people. That’s why we like to (go to) movies. Because it’s about beautiful people. However, your best best in an independent film is to go that je-ne-se-quai cute route.

3. Shocking sex premise (Sex, Lies, and Videotape was a one shot deal — no one cares in this day of ubiquitous internet porn and the infamous 2 Girls and 1 Cup video).

4. Ambiguous endings. It works for larger serialized works or fully developed features. On a smaller scale it makes it seem like you ran out of money and just copped out.

5. The girl/boy you wanna get down with as your lead. You avoid problem #2, because you avoid the unattractive actor problem, but invariably, acting prowess falls on the wayside. It’s very common to see very very attractice actors in the lead who can’t act for crap. Of course, you may have just cast that person, but most of us in the audience are wondering how much that guy/girl had to put out in order to get the part.

…

Saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Wow, Cate Blanchett is awesome, even when she is so obviously hamming it up. End of review.

 

Iron Man, of course . . .

I just saw Iron Man this past weekend.

The movie was pretty good. I’m not alone. Not that I need my opinion to be buttressed by others. I’ve been very much alone in my cinematic preferences — Karate Kid Part II was my favorite movie of ALL TIME until Good Will Hunting came along. Now KK Part Deux has been relegated to my SECOND FAVORITE MOVIE OF ALL TIME. I have no shame and I’m not recanting that assertion.

Now that I’ve confessed my love for Ralph Macchio and Tamlyn Tomita speaking broken English, my movie tastes are instantly suspect. You’re right. You should always go see a movie yourself to make your own decision. I’ve always been wary of super hero/comic book movies (except for The Superman movies and I’m only really including Superman I+II and Superman Returns).

Back to Iron Man. This was one was best of the lot thus far (except, again for the Superman movies, which I admit I have an irrational weakspot for). Yeah, even better than Batman Begins. Bite me fanboys.

I’ve never read an Iron Man comic nor did I anticipate the movie with any great anxiety or fanfare. I had heard from others who saw that it was good. So on a nice sunny Sunday afternoon, Michelle and I went to go watch it. Michelle thought the movie was excellent (and she does not share my taste in movies).

The box office returns for Iron Man indicates that it broke some record or the other for the first weekend. There’s a myriad of reasons why Iron Man did well, but for me it was Robert Downey’s performance in the first part of the movie.

Tony Stark, Downey’s character, undergoes a transformative moment and only because Downey himself sold it with his performance did it have complete credibility for me. Most times movies just gloss over the details and try to convince you that the protagonist has changed with constant flashbacks or loud music. But not here. He played it straight and with conviction. But more importantly, he didn’t overpower that moment by brooding for the rest of the movie — he constantly flashed his pre-transformative moment personality but forged ahead with his newfound mission with intensity.

The idea that his internal transformation propelled the exterior transformation with his super body gold-titanium alloy powered exoskeleton is truly a compelling one.

I’m not saying that it’s the ONLY reason why the movie good, but it was a crucial linchpin for me as I suspended my disbelief and enjoyed the movie. It’s always sooo much better when you are invested in the main character.  And too often in the past, comic book heroes substituted the costume change in the telephone booth/bat cave for real acting, but hopefully this heralds a change where they start to actually put grade A actors and actresses into these roles (sorry Ben Affleck).

 

30 Rock and Intertextuality

If you need to really find out what intertexuality means, check out Wikipedia.

The way I learned it, it means anytime a text/work makes references to another text/work. How that’s different from an allusion, I dunno. And I’ll refrain from using the term “trope” in this entry. Whoops, too late.

But intertextuality is a $5 word that’s nicely sesquipedalian and as a professor of mine once put it, sounds salacious.

So I was watching “30 Rock” starring Tina Fey (+Baldwin, et al.). It was the episode entitled “Succession” and it is a fan-tastic episode.

The show made numerable references to the movie Amadeus. Genius. I had to go watch Amadeus again to get even more of the allusions. There were intextual references galore — ranging from actual quotes, characters (Salieri), camera shots (view from behind the mask, Dr. Spacemen with a cape, etcetera), and of course, the music. I thought it was hilarious, just because Amadeus was a serious movie, and 30 Rock is not a serious anything. At the end of the day, we all like to think that we “got” something — and if it’s based on some intertextual reference, then maybe we think of it as a stepping stone to the low-brow cinematic referential intelligentsia.

And then the next episode of 30 Rock made more references (Brady Bunch, etcetera). And it will continue to do so. Of course, 30 Rock isn’t the only show to do it — a lot of shows do it, ranging from simple parody to clever allusions hidden somewhere.

The question is this: as we continue to get our “texts” (whether they be actual texts or TV shows or movies) from diverse and fractured sources (basic cable, premium cable, internet, word of mouth), is our ability to derive enjoyment from intertextual references going to be eroded?

For example: If TV show A makes reference to movie B, but the audience hasn’t seen movie B, then won’t the audience ultimately lose interest in TV show A?

If you hadn’t seen Amadeus, a lot of the jokes made in that particular episode of 30 Rock were lost on you. This particular episode of 30 Rock may have just sucked if you didn’t get the allusions. If you didn’t watch Brady Bunch reruns every summer like I did you wouldn’t have loved The Brady Bunch Movie, nor get my reference to George Glass from Niagra Falls.

You could look up everything in Wikipedia like I do, but by the time that happens, it loses something in the process. It’s like having your 9th grade science partner describe the plot to Star Wars or the goth chick describe the plot to Can’t Buy Me Love — there’s a degradation of sorts in the process of communication.

There may have been a time when the mighty 3 networks ruled the air that the chances of you being educated in a universal fashion in a “canon” of popular knowledge was much greater than it is today. But I’m sure that tomorrow’s scribes will either find a new “canon” where common knowledge and enjoyment can be derived or really serve their specialized audiences extremely well. Maybe all the references will be based on Wikipedia . . .

 

All I Needed to Know About Life I Learned from Call of Duty 4

I never had an Atari/Coleco/Intellivision growing up (Did I just date myself?). Videogames were the devil’s playthings in my household. I’ve played videogames here and there on the consoles of friends who were much more privileged than I. It wasn’t until very recently that I went out an purchased an Xbox 360. It was a mid-life crises thing. Or so I tell myself.

The problem is that I’m not that into video games. Sure, I get all into it, but I tire easily of the tedium and the fact that it’s just not REAL. I don’t play video games obsessively, until I came across CALL OF DUTY 4:

The game is essentially a modern day first person shooter game where you play a modern soldier shooting some other modern soldier’s brains out with an array of weapons. Call of Duty 4 is a typical Clancy-esque video game where US/UK forces, Arab militants, and Russian ultra-nationalists are all engaged in some bloody realpolitik. My normally very leftist politics are held in abeyance as I wage a righteous virtual war.

What I really love about the game is the ability to play online with thousands of other geeks who play Call of Duty 4. That means when I shoot someone in the head with a virtual M-16, there’s a pimply faced pubescent geek yelling “DAMN YOU!” into his microphone with an Australian/English/Italian/American Southern/Broadcast American English/Japanese accent.

Yeah, the global reach of Xboxlive is kinda awesome.

I have to tell you as a thirtysomething gamer with just above average reflexes, that those damn kids are hair trigger fast. The youngsters are MILES ahead of me in terms of speed, reaction time, and just general skill level.

The only way to counter all that is the old fashioned way: PRACTICE and TREACHERY. You know the saying.

So I resort to all sorts of grown-up tactics: sneaking up behind my adversaries, lying in wait, setting up an ambush, outflanking them, going stealth, letting them run out into the open where I gun them down Khmer Rouge style, ruthlessly using the radar to find snipers, doing crazy unpredictable middle-aged things, taking the path less traveled, etcetera.

In a straight fire fight (imagine a high noon duel with automatic rifles) I think I would lose to any hyperactive kid with twitchy fingers. But I’ve gotten pretty good at the above tactics, enough to the point that I’m disappointed if I’m not in the top 3 after each match.

After playing hours and hours and hours and hours of Call of Duty 4 (there’s a war going on people!), I think I learned a few things about life:

• Never get involved in a vendetta with one individual for personal reasons.
• The above is exemplified in the Call of Duty 4 world when an a-hole sniper shoots me and I spend the whole game trying to kill him once.  And I end up not killing anyone or capturing any objectives. My team suffers because I did not focus on our goals, which is to win by securing the objectives or to kill as many people as possible. I failed others because of my myopic selfish vendetta.
• The above is exemplified in the real world when certain leaders of certain nations lead us into wars that have no rationale behind other than maybe a need to clear up a personal vendetta based on irrational fears, to clear the legacy of one’s father, or to chase a phantom mandate from a national tragedy to shore up one’s political capital. The same myopia causes the nation to lose on a much larger scale.
• Teamwork is crucial. When everyone on my team in Call of Duty 4 works in unison to kill terrorist/Russian ultranationalist soldiers (to distinguish between good Russian soldiers), we win quickly and efficiently. And in the real world, when co-workers all unite in a common cause, there’s nothing better. That just goes without saying, but Call of Duty 4 reinforces it.
• It’s good to shut out external noise. Those pubescent kids above are always screaming into the mike during a game (one kid incessantly babbled on an entire game using Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Bavarian accent — that’s when I stopped wearing the headset). So I turn their annoying voices off (great option). And I can concentrate on killing, maiming, and grenading my enemies in relative peace, with only the sound of explosions, gunfire, and airstrikes being heard. In real life, it’s a good idea to turn off your cell phone, office phone, IM, e-mail and to focus on the task at hand.
• It’s a good idea not to run out into a hail of gunfire. Sometimes just running for it with a child soldier machine gunner perpendicular to your path is not a good idea. Find cover. Wait it out. Then stab your adversary in the back while he’s reloading. And in real life, when your company is in the throes of downsizing, take a few weeks off from work — they’ll forget about you because you’re not there and you’ll survive to see another year and maybe even see your boss get fired.

I think the creators of Call of Duty 4 should publish a book that encapsulates all the life changing lessons that can be learned by playing weeks and weeks of Call of Duty 4.

I know I’m a better man for it.

 

Annie Choi: Architects Hate Her and She’s Hilarious

I just finished reading Annie Choi’s “Happy Birthday or Whatever: Track Suits, Kim Chee, and Other Family Disasters.”

Very funny book. I read it on a flight up the bay area and back. Yeah, it’s a fast read. Go buy it. Be literate for once in your life. Or drop me an email and I’ll lend you my copy you parsimonious bastard/ette.

The book is a very David Sedaris-esque autobiographical tale. I have to say though, that my favorite is still Paul Beatty’s “White Boy Shuffle.” He was a Slam Poet, so it’s hard to compete with that. Anyways, I wanted to give props to Korean American writers not named Chang-Rae Lee, so there it is. I like reading Asian American writers that don’t make me want to kill myself (Chang-Rae — you write beautifully and all that, but seriously, can I crack a smile once, puhlease? I don’t like feeling suicidial when I read books — oh yeah, thank you Rohinton Mistry, the pleasure was all mine . . . )

I personally want to encourage the blossoming of Asian American writers who write funny — kinda like Shawn Wong and his “American Knees”. I thought so much of that guy that I actually drove up to Seattle and bugged a graduate student at U-Dub to set up a meeting. He is a charming man. They eventually made the novel into a movie, “Americanese” — yeah, I get it . . .

I “discovered” Annie Choi when an architect friend sent me a HEEEE-larious article by Annie Choi. I was telling my architect friend that she became important in my life as I inadvertently achieved certain accouterments of a bourgeoisie life. I needed to park her at my cocktail parties (I have yet to have one, although my wife and I are planning a Rockband party in the near future and if you have to ask you’re not invited) in order to mark the fact that I can now introduce my snooty friends who read The New Yorker to my friend, the architect. She promptly sent me the article, entitled, “Dear Architects” and told she’ll never ever attend any of my cocktail parties. She mumbled something about proletariat riff-raff. I knew she wasn’t talking about me.

Please read it. Those three pages was enough to convince me that I needed to buy her book.

http://rasmusbroennum.files.wordpress.com/2007/07/deararchitects.pdf

You can also check out her blog: www.annietown.com

I have not really read her blog, so I do not vouch for its funniness nor its hilarity.

But I suppose it’s gotta be better than this blog.

 

The Millionaire Matchmaker and her tricks . . .

So, I just found out that I work in the same building as the Millionaire Matchmaker.

For those of you that don’t know, The Millionaire Matchmaker is a reality tv show on Bravo. The show sets up millionaires with those who are looking for millionaires. Simple, right?

Of course, the show is somewhat guilty of trafficking in stereotypes — the socially retarded millionaire and the overtly silicone suggestive gold digger. But the ONE episode (yeah, the snob in me dreads having to admit that I’ve watched any reality tv shows) that I’ve viewed surprised me (good looking nice rich guy with a not-vapid, down to earth attractive, intelligent woman).

And I found out because I walked by the office (which says “Millionaire’s Club”) and saw the door open with the Matchmaker herself, her assistant, and a camera. I got a good look at everyone inside the office and did a mini-gawk without breaking stride. Yes, I am an LA native, I know hows to do it.

So, after I found out that I share the same office complex as the Millionaire Matchmaker, I rush home to watch the show with my wife (yeah, see, I had to put that in because I’m too insecure to let you think I would watch such trash by myself).

Some points:

• The show “hints” that the Millionaire Matchmaker is based in Beverly Hills, with shots of Wilshire Blvd., Rodeo, signage with Beverly Hills, etcetera. This is untrue. Her office is in Marina Del Rey. Of course, the show never explicity says that she is in Beverly Hills, but I thought it was way too suggestive. Maybe she has a satellite office somewhere, but the interiors of the office in the show match the one in Marina Del Rey. (Of course, at the end of the show, they have an aerial shot of the marina at Marina Del Rey, but we are nowhere near the waterfront).
• The building that they show is NOT our building. Our building is an ugly industrial type building — the kind with high ceilings and full of architects and cool designers (and people like me who tag along). They use a buidling double for the show. The building is kinda concrete-designery-architect-friendly, but it’s a much more telegenic building than our own.
• I see why more and more cable networks are going to the reality tv format — they only had one camera rolling when I walked by, which must be tons cheaper than a normal three camera sitcom format. It looked like a stripped down student film (high school) set — there were like four people total in that office. The Matchmaker herself, one assistant, the cameraman, and some lady who could’ve been an assistant or a producer. You’ve got an instant show.

That’s really all I can say from watching one episode and one mini-gawk inside the office when I walked by, but it makes me wonder how much the other parts of the show has been edited or changed. Bleh.

And a friend, who shall go unnamed, actually checked the requirements to join this Millionaire’s Club and found out that you need a million in SALARY, not in assets. I’m sure that was done to avoid poseurs who have a million dollar shack stashed somewhere in some overpriced part of Los Angeles.

The points I make are really minor, but I thought I would make it because it’s the first time I’ve had a chance to compare reality with the show. As for the show itself, it’s an okay show — a good way to find out what you would have to do to marry rich or figure out your contingency plan for marriage if you’re working way too hard. And for the rest of us, another reason to feel smug about why we’re not single . . .

 

The Coffee Bean

I’m at Coffee Bean.

Before I go on about howgreat Coffee Bean is, I should provide some context.

I went to college in the Bay Area, where everyone is pretty serious/pretentious about their coffee. I used to drink two cups of espresso during the weekday. It was a bad habit. I had to stop when I realized that I could go to sleep half an hour after that second cup. Yeah, crazy. Independent coffee shops were where it was at. And there I was. Reading my Norton Edition of Paradise Lost, looking as pretentious and pedantic as anyone else in this cafe. So I had some serious coffee chops many years ago.

What changed?

I moved to LA. And I fell in love with the epicene powdered sugary drinks.

And Coffee Bean has the best — the Ultimate Mocha. Sweet, but balanced by the bitter aftertaste of espresso beans ground throughout. Deeee-licious.

I’m now going to go watch Oprah.

 

The End: The Wire

I don’t like to watch a lot of TV. This doesn’t mean I’m sort of closeted Luddite, reading books all day by candlelight. I watch an inordinate number of movies (I’m on Netflix’s list of the most undesirable customers ever). It’s a habit from pre-Tivo days where I would resent the notion that a television program would command me to watch at a given time or a certain time. And if you had to videotape it, then it had better be good. So, I’m very selective about what I watch, usually watching anywhere from two to three hours of TV a week (News doesn’t count).

But I digress — this selectiveness means that I have a pretty short attention span for shows that suck. Or are mediocre. Or just okay. Or kinda good. They have to be uber-good.

I’ve been a fan of The Sopranos for a while, but I have to say, HBO topped themselves with The Wire. So awesome. Period.

As a matter of course, I don’t like to watch lawyer shows. Yes, I am one. I especially don’t like to watch criminal law shows, because they usually suck up to the fascist tendencies of DA-lovers everywhere. Yeah, I practiced criminal defense. I was a proud public defender for about eight years of my life and by far, it is the best job ever. But even with some semi-defense friendly shows, like The Practice, it was really unbelievable, using the fantastic and the sensationalistic to make its point (can they win like every case?). And it became pretty pro-prosecution after a while. I didn’t want a show that was fawning over the defense (and that’s not equatable with criminal love, love for the darkside, a desire for the end of western civilization, etcetera you suburban colloborator alarmist, it’s just an acknowledgement that one side isn’t always right ALL THE GAWDAMN time).

I wanted a show with veracity. The DA shows didn’t have it. The cops-are-evil-all-the-time shows lost sight of it at times, getting mired in histrionics. I wanted a show where I could watch for like an hour and not say, “That’s not right! That’s a LIE! It’s just wrong.  THAT’S NOT HOW IT IS?!?!?”

I mean one of the reasons why I chose to be a public defender was to get immersed in a gritty world that I wouldn’t normally be a part of — and I wanted that to be conveyed realistically.

The Wire is the first and only show to do it. Granted, the show takes place in Baltimore and I practiced in Los Angeles, but never ever did I question the procedure, the portrayals, and the gawdamn veracity of this fictional show. Amazing. If they had The Wire on while I was in law school, I think I would have all five seasons of it and not gone into criminal law at all.

It’s even handed, making a case as to how institutions can crush the individual, whether it be a drug cartetl, police department, judicial system, school, or city hall. And it should be pointed out that the show portrays criminal defense attorneys in a very very bad light — scumsucking avaricious fucks. But it was done with such acuity that I couldn’t touch it nor complain about it. There are others who I used to work with that have watched The Wire and they are smitten by it like I am.

So if you want to watch ONE crime procedural, it’s The Wire.

The best show out on TV EVER. EVER.

I used to think that Lost would change broadcast TV and it still can, but I’m telling you, Cable (specifically HBO) is where it’s at. Cable is the gated community of television.

That’s right, I said it.

The Wire just concluded it’s final and last episode ever. And man oh man, was it worth it. I feel sort of sad knowing that there will be no upcoming espisodes. But I do want to spread the gospel of The Wire — the best way to watch it is on DVD, three episodes at a time. Seriously. Do it and you’ll thank me. Otherwise, you can go suck on an egg.

 

Throwing up in Cambodia

Two years ago I had the good fortune to travel to South East Asia with my wife. (She wasn’t my wife then). I’ve had never been and I’ve been sort of a Europe snob when it came to travel. Italy is still awesome. But Michelle had been there and done that — she’s even gone to Africa. So she suggested we go to Vietnam and Cambodia for a trip. I reluctantly agreed. And really, it was a great trip — different from any trip I’ve been on prior to that.

But rather than post extensively on my trip to Cambodia and Vietnam (others have done it far better than I could), I thought I would share a photo from the trip.

I love to travel and I think I’m a pretty good traveller rather than a tourist. But here, I failed miserably. We were in the semi-jungles of Cambodia, in Siem Reap to be exact. I had come down with a fever of some sort. Michelle and I were at a food stall outside the world famous temples of Angkor Wat.

Then I knew I was going to throw up. I motioned to the proprietor, a very nice lady, that I needed to throw up. We didn’t speak Khmer, so I think my hand motions from mouth to the floor didn’t help. I frantically looked around and there was nothing in the food stall except for three tables, a large cauldron in the back where our food was prepared, open air, the thatch roof, no walls, and a dirt floor.

At a certain point, I stepped away from the table and up-chucked (do people still use this word? or do they use throw-up or barf or the east-coastian, “boot”?) all over the dirt floor.

I am a loud barfer.

The lady gave me some tea and rubbed my back while I was trying to wipe the vomit-spittle off of the sides of my mouth. Post-barfing always feels great. But I was done. I was dehydrated. I killed the poor lady’s business for the rest of the day, because what rational tourist would want to eat there after I barfed everywhere? I left a pretty generous tip which I hoped would cover the lost business.

The great thing about dirt floors is that you don’t have to clean up vomit off of it — you just let it dry and kick dirt over it.

 

The Road, at least out of the SF ghetto

Jonathan commented on my earlier post about Cormac McCarthy’s Pulitzer Prize winning The Road.  It is indeed a great book.   And this is despite it being an Oprah Winfrey Book Club selection (ha, ha, Franzen, you’re an idiot . . .).

With brute brevity, I’m going to say that The Road chronicles the story of a father and son attempting to survive in a post-apocalyptic America.   Read it.  And don’t lend your copy out to anyone because you’ll never get it back (I’m still waiting for my copy to make it back to me).

This is ostensibly a science fiction book, because it deals with life after some sort of mutually assured destruction scenario taking place.  And if it is, it is by far one of the best sci-fi books out there and one that you can recommend to people who hate sci-fi with confidence.  (I don’t know if I can say the same for Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card, with its space operatic the-entire-existence-of-humankind-in-the-balance-due-to-aliens theme merely typifies why it might be the best of the genre, but doesn’t transcend the genre at all.)

First of all, the book is very well written, with the typical sparse prose style that I love so much about McCarthy.  Sci-Fi fiction is filled to the brim with techno-speak and the talk of guys who need to explain every little thing to the readers, maybe in a juvenile attempt to be so nerdily pedantic.

Secondly, the book never explains why and hows of the cities on fire and how the ashen world came to be.  And really, that’s what makes this so great.  Most sci-fi books & movies are obsessed with this perspective of overall historical omniscience, to be on the bridge of the ship during climactic battle, so to speak.   The focus is on two, arguably, inconsequential characters and how important they are to the narrative.

This could be the book that leads sci-fi out of its sci-fi ghetto.  Once a sci-fi writer, you can never get that stain off of you.  But Cormac brought this type of story into the mainstream.  C’mon, Oprah can’t be wrong (more on her and my snobby aversion to her “Oprah” book stickers later), can she?  Margaret Atwood tried with The Blind Assassin and to a certain extent, Oryx and Crake.  Somehow I thought the sci-fi elements were gimmicky and not well used.

Keep in mind I haven’t seriously read heavy sci-fi since junior high.  I think I abandoned it for the above reasons.  If I come across more “literature” (I mean, seriously, what the hell does that mean?) that has credible sci-fi elements, I will get back into it.