Big Dreams from a Small Apartment

Oh, Scars

2007-02-26T10:18:00.000-08:00

Today I tend to my wounds from the awful assault on my patience that was the Oscars. I don't know why I watch anymore. Changes need to be made - let's open the doors for some big ideas over at the Academy.

Some quick suggestions:

Themed Oscar Parties: Who doesn't like to play dress-up? Is anyone else tired of seeing the same glittery glam year in and year out? I don't care who's wearing who, really I don't. And that weird Steven Tyler lookalike needs to go. Wouldn't it be more fun to have a 'Beach Party' themed Oscars? Have Hollywood's most beautiful decked in barely-there designer bikinis? At least THIS would intice the male audience learn more about haute couture. I can just see someone standing around the water cooler, asking his buddy what he thought of the D-Squared two piece on Jessica Biel.

Other good themes would be: "Toddler" (everyone dresses like a baby - a quick way to get a pacifier in a longwinded award winner's mouth, "Field and Farm" (bringing the best in rural fashion to the red carpet, and "Jungle" (any excuse to get Scarlett in a leopard loincloth).

Or, how about making it mandatory for all actor nominees to come in character? Wouldn't it have been great to see Alan Arkin's Grandpa snap a peice off of Melissa or Joan as he licks his lips and unbuttons his belt?

What if we forced each of young Hollywood's stars to partner with a 'mentor' for the evening, then sent a camera crew to follow Robert Downey Jr. and Haley Joel Osment as they partyhop? I'm taking side-bets on who's carrying who home.

Or send a reality-show crew to follow each nominee as they get ready for their big night, swearing and bossing around immigrants, employees, and agents...then hit the Oscars with a Vaseline and Valium smile.

These are off the top of my head, and (obviously), not terribly well thought out. I welcome your suggestions though - because we can't complain about how big a shit-show the Oscars have become without offering some ridiculous suggestions to spice 'em up.

LA

2007-02-16T10:24:00.000-08:00

It's booked, bitches.

March 31-April 26. My first step into the lion's cage.

Anyone have a friend that is looking to sublet for the month of April? I'm your man.

Turns out my cousin is moving to LA in March. This serendipitous turn really relieves a bit of the 'who am I going to hang out with for a month' tension. Now there's only the 'am I good enough to make this transition or am I stupid enough to think it's a good idea' tension to worry about.

I gotta go into this with confidence, or the ship is sunk before we leave port - that's my opinion. I'd love to hear some horror stories of LA trips...pitches gone sour, meetings that made you cry, that sort of thing. It's not that I take pleasure in your pain (although I likely do), it's that whole thing about making you feel you're not alone, the needy-writer thing.

More updates as I find a place to stay, start carving out my schedule, and all that jazz.

For now, I'm fucking freezing.

Mentos and Coke II

2007-01-17T09:07:00.000-08:00

Yes, I posted yesterday for the first time in a few months...but I couldn't let the second installment of this engineering masterpeice slip through my fingers.

Consider yourself impressed.

Think you can do better? There's a contest at the end of the clip.

Dusting off the cobwebs...

2007-01-16T14:43:00.000-08:00

I may not win any awards for my first post of 2007... but Im back, with shorter hair and a bigger belly.

For the past two months, your lazy blogging friend has been writing copy for Playstation, Axe, Liptons, Degree, Royal Bank, Facebook, and Energizer, to name a few. I took a short contract as a band-aid while an agency found themselves a full-time copywriter. It was fun. It went well. Things were going so well, in fact, that I started thinking whether I could do this full time. The pay was good, consistent, and allowed for some creativity.

After one day back in the life of an income-less Canadian screenwriter (I think incomeless means up-and-coming, or some shit) I remember why it is I could never take a full time advertising gig:

I would miss writing stories too much. As simple and stupid as that may sound to any of you, I love it, I really do. Even though sometimes I hate having to stare at my computer, and often want to learn another language so I can stop butchering EnglishI would never have it any other way. Giving in to the easy way out (which is not a bad alternative at all, in fact, quite a satisfying one), would come with the fear that I failed myself. I remember hearing very early on in my screenwriting education that the difference between failed writers and famous ones is that the failed ones GAVE UP. Thats always stuck with me. I know I could have a future copywriting. I've got a lot to learn, but Im not half-bad. We'll see what the future brings, but for now, thats shelved and I trudge on, focused on an exciting few months ahead...

Just before the new year, I decided to take a trip down to LA in April. Im not getting any younger, and its time to take a look. Im sure it wont be my last. So, before April, gotta get my little ladies (scripts) all primped in their sluttiest see-through lingerie for their west-coast adventure. It's gonna keep me busy (pronounced "biz-ay").

After sharing my decision, I was asked by a much smarter and more successful friend what I hoped to get out of the trip. I didnt know exactly at the time, but I do now: Im going down to pitch. I might get eaten alive, but Ill give it my best. Hopefully through distribution from family, friends, and agents, most will have read me before so Im not going in TOTALLY cold but if not, so be it. So now, time to practice. Pitching, in all its agony, doesnt come easy to me so if you find me extra gregarious and/or obnoxious (the latter, for sure) in the coming months, now you know why. Consider this my disclaimer - dont hold it against me. Im training to get down to my fighting weight. Cause I can only imagine it's going to be a battle.

Exciting new projects to share: An adult animated series called Retired and Expired. Its funnyreally funny, about the crazy goings-on at a retirement home and funeral parlor a one-stop shop for all your elderly needs. The other is a thriller called The Spill, based on an outline I wrote at the CFC that has since been re-thunk by myself and a great young genre director. Going to pitch both of them in Canada as well as down south.

Ive also got two projects I'm currently figuring out: a limited live-action dark comedy series and a MOW mulling around my cluttered, foggy brain. Id tell you the topic, but since there are only so many ripped from the headlines issues available, I must play my cards close to my chest. Also, pretty excited to see the rough cuts of the first 6 episodes of "Team Leader". Should be any day now. I'll let you know how that (usually painful) experience goes.

Thats it for now. Just wanted to say hi, happy new year, and if youre reading this:

Thanks for not forgetting about me. Im back. Not sure how frequent, but back, baby, back.

Halloweak

2006-10-30T09:30:00.000-08:00

Saturday night. Everybody that Josh knows is out on the town, dressed in what they consider to be the wittiest costume ever conceived and constructed.

In years past, Josh is out with them. But this year, he just isn't feeling it. The whole Halloween thing - yawn.

Rewind 15 years:

I was never one to enjoy being scared. At least not in the traditional sense. Murderous dolls and zombies and vampires and Richard Simmons were scary for most kids, but not for me. Because of this 'defect', I never watched horror films. What's the point? They're so impossibly fantastic. I have so many REAL things to be scared about.

I was scared Ben Johnson was hiding under my bed, waiting to stick steroids in my feet while I slept as punishment for dropping support for him after the truth came out. I slept with my legs crossed for a more than 2 years.

I was scared that robbers would storm my house and take everyone hostage, so I kept a bag of toy guns under my bed that I deemed 'convincing' enough to look and sound real in the event I had to bunker down in my room.

I was scared that the guy who's profile I was watching on 'America's Most Wanted' was waiting upstairs, ready to 'hush' me when I found him and force me to hide him from the authorities.

See? Much more plausible, real-world fears.

Fast forward to Saturday night:

Everyone else was out getting haunted (read: blind drunk), and I was focused on the excellent finish to the Leafs/Habs game. After the game, I had to find something else to watch. There was nothing on, and I had already viewed everything on my PVR (beloved, beloved PVR). I decided to take a quick glance at TMN on Demand to see if there was anything I hadn't watched yet.

And there it was. Staring right at me. The answer to my evening lived inside six little letters:

D E X T E R

I found it! Finally! I can't believe I didn't look here sooner.

I popped some corn and hit play. The first 10 minutes made me squirmy and although I covered my eyes a few times (the old 'peeking-through-the-fingers' move), I couldn't stop turn it off (my father, however wrote it off after about 4 minutes. Patience.)

Fast forward 3 hrs:

Finished the first 3 episodes. Left me shook; frightened in a way that I hadn't been since childhood. Fuck the Halloween 'staples' of ghosts, witches, and warlocks. Monsters are REAL. And I've never seen one brought to life with the same eerie authenticity as Michael C. Hall's Dexter.

What intensity! What great writing! What excellent performances! What imagination!

It might be my new favorite show. Besides LOST, it's newly anointed as the one show I can hardly wait for each week.

And Dexter is something to be scared of. Terrified even. Because Dexter could be your neighbor. Your son's soccer coach. Your wife's best friend. The guy at Timothy's dropping arsenic into your latte.

I encourage everyone to watch it. If you can get through the pilot and honestly tell me you're not completely compelled to watch more, I'll give you your money back.

If not, I get to keep the imaginary fantasy money and use it to build my imaginary fantasy panic room to protect me from the REAL dangers that face our sick, deranged society.

Random note:

I had the good fortune to dine with the CEO of a major media conglomerate last night. When I told him I had a new favorite show, he jumped out with 'Dexter!' before I finished the sentence. Didn't even bat an eyelash. The lesson:

Everyone admires, respects this show. From stuffy execs to hopeless creative romantics. Even if you see NO personal connection to it (although whoever says this is lying, in my opinion). Even if it's not your taste - it's worth watching an episode just to appreciate the craft of impeccably-executed TV.

Personally, my favorite reason to watch is, as Dennis McGrath noted: it's a MAJOR accomplishment in writing when you can make a brutal, calculated serial killer your sympathetic protagonist.

What's your favorite reason to watch?

Two posts in one day? Inconthievable!

2006-10-23T18:42:00.000-07:00

Does two postings in one day make up for two weeks (okay, three) of silence? Just say yes, and read on.

I just watched last night's Studio 60, and two things popped out at me:

1. Is Amanda Peet pregnant? It seemed that her carrying around a coat and bag all night was done so to hide something. Pardon the tasteless description, but she looked a little thick around the midsection. Anyone else notice this?

2. Steven Weber is fucking funny. I wish I could see Mr. Million-An-Episode Mandler Albing watch each episode and complain to his pill bottle...er, family about Wings Weber kicking his ass every week.

Because someone asked me, "Why haven't you posted lately?", and I realized that 'because, that's why' wasn't an acceptable answer

2006-10-23T12:32:00.000-07:00

Sorry for being out of touch. If I could only pawn off my lack of productivity on the newfound addition of PVR to my life and convince myself it wasnt an excuse, I would. Trust me, I'm a sucker for transparent scapegoats.

PVR. Three little letters. But more powerful than Brangelina, Bennifer, or Madonna's stolen black baby combined.

But seriously, how did I live without this marvel? Its better than cigarettes, Party Mix, and White Russians in one - although Im not sure its any healthier.

Where as before my must-see TV really only included Lost, Arrested Development, and Family Guy, my stable of shows Im into has expanded. I consume weekly, in no particular order:

Lost
The Office (Hilarious every week, if not one-note)
Studio 60 (Seems I'm one of 10 people who like it)
Rent-A-Goalie (I'll give it another few weeks, but it's hanging from a life-line)
Weeds (missed an episode or two)
Heroes (getting better every week)
The Daily Show (You know you're successful when... you spawn a poorly received Robin Williams vehicle)
The Colbert Report (it surpassed Daily as the better show about two months ago)
30 Rock (Tracey Morgan won me over with the chicken-nuggets-AIDS rant)
Its Always Sunny In Philadelphia (good writing, great success story)

Im getting fat on television. Stuffing my furry little face full of of conflict, comedy, and things that go BOOM. Basically, Ive added about four hours a week of necessary viewing. If I was restricted by archaic institutions like the 'broadcast schedule' (harumph!), it's concievable that my weekday evenings would be totally hijacked by TV, at the mercy of time slots and if, god forbid, I found two shows on at the same timewell, lets just say I dont think I would be capable of making such life-altering decisions. Thank God (to whom I give the credit) I have this hard drive to archive my addictions and release them to me in digestible, easy to manage doses. I swear if someone developed a way to inject Lost directly into my bloodstream, Id be in rehab within weeks. I hear FOX is working on it.

So am I a lost cause, a fully-formed TV junkie? No, not yet. But if I could find out what time Dexter or Jericho was on, I might just penetrate that loosely defined point-of-no-return. And with another exciting NBA season around the corner (my #1 drug, not to mention my outlet for vicarious living), I can see it becoming necessary to learn to like coffee just so I can keep awake long enough to watch everything Ive earmarked on my PVR.

Do I like watching more television - or God, as Ive started to call it? Absolutely. I find myself writing more and more TV these days (the only way to make a decent buck working in Canada I bet entry level copy boys/girls/droids/monkeys/whatever make more than the average Cdn film-only screenwriter) and its imperative to keep up with the shows that are crushing the Canadian industry. For a more intelligent description than I could muster, check out Dennis McGraths post on 10 ways to make Canadian TV better.

Moving now to the future of narrative motion-pictures, the online series: We're now fully cast on Team Leader, and Im quite excited about the group of actors we've assembled, particularly our leads I think they have great chemistry.

So, were now about three weeks away from production on what we're calling Canadas first live-action serialized comedy. At least thats the story we're sticking to. Wanna fight about it?

Coming soon is a more detailed description of this project a.k.a. a thinly veiled attempt to plug our series so that youll all watch it, either online, downloaded to your iPod, or your cheaply manufactured knock-off iPod.

We dont judge. We just want you to enjoy the show.

Best Opening Weekend Of The Year?

2006-10-06T13:40:00.000-07:00

I think we have a contender...

The Last King Of Scotland
As I proclaimed during TIFF, performances by James McAvoy and Forest Whitaker make this already powerful film spectacular. Although it's Forest who will get most of the media, McAvoy shines like a Klan spotlight in the Alabama swampland.

And yes, I've been waiting for a reason to use that.

Trailer Park Boys: The Movie
Admittedly not a member of the TPB die-hard fan club, I am excited for this film. It's getting great reviews, and that's tough for a Canadian comedy to achieve.

Two reasons keep my skepticism at bay. One of those reasons has a sub-point, but I wouldn't feel right calling them three:

1) I trust Reitman.

2a) I read that rather than other tv-to-feature films like Wayne's World and Bob/Doug Mackenzie, TPB chose to use their inflated budget not to get bigger, but deeper into the story.

I find this distinction inspiring, and really think it's a decision that more folks in charge of comedy should be brave enough to make.

2b) This adds evidence to something I've been saying for some time: That great comedy comes from character, not circumstance.

(Now that I think about it, I have a suspicion that a dude much more famous and well-dressed proclaimed something along these lines some time ago. Am I making this up... does anybody know what the hell I'm talking about?)

The Departed
Everything I've read claims this is Scorcese back in Goodfellas form. A proclamation like that obliges every male in the free world to drag his girlfriend to opening weekend under the auspices of 'it's my turn to choose'.

Just look at the cast of brothahs (my best Bostonian accent): Jack Nicholson's woken up from a three year catnap to play a villain. Matt Damon (Maht-Daymun!) as a bad cop. Leonardo 'Remember when I was the shit?' DiCaprio, Scorcese's answer to Tarantino's Thurman. And the completely underrated Marky 'Undies' Whalberg.

Apparently it's full of violence, stuffed like a holiday bird. It's been a while since I've enjoyed a graphically violent gang film, and frankly, I kinda miss it. Big fingers crossed on this one.

Fun Fact: At 150 minutes, this film is the shortest Scorcese picture since 1999.

So do me a favor this long weekend. Go to the theater, buy a ticket for Trailer Park Boys, and go see any of the three above films.

(I'd be great if you actually went to see TPB, but I understand if it's not your brand of ale.)

Location Location Location

2006-09-25T16:06:00.000-07:00

I turned 25 yesterday. Woo-fucking-hah. Ear hair and sore hips, here I come. It seems much older than 24, strangely. But 24 was a year of progress - not necessarily open doors, but more like french doors. Sure, you can see through them, but they ain't swinging wide just yet.

I have been putting off new re-writes on Chub and Marigold Moon, but it doesn't seem like I can do so any longer. Producer interested in MM has asked me to think about (read: do it if you want me to get involved) changing the locations in the film. Currently, 2/3 of the movie takes place in an affluent suburb of Phoenix. Her suggestion: move it to Canada if I ever plan to see it on celluloid.

So while it's doesnt change the story I want to tellit changes the story I want to tell.

What to do? Theres a specific social, economic, and aesthetic stigma to Scottsdale, the bleached, transparent gated community I know all too well. It's not a generic setting - it's particular and deliberate. It is also impossible to cheat in this country, which ususally we're so good at. Can the same sensibility be replicated and transported north of the border? If so, where? Winnipeg? Vancouver Island? Banff?

Heres the thing: I dont think it can. But that doesnt mean im not going to do it. I mean, other than it affecting a handful of secondary characters, the main plot point, and the overarching theme of the story, its fairly inconsequential. I joke because inside, I cry. It bothers me more than I'll ever admit, almost as much as recognizing that there's not a chance anyone in this country could ever afford to make the film as written.

So now instead of Marigold Moon: the tragic tale of a young girls move from Canada to the fake-boobs-and-palm-trees, its now Marigold Moon: the story of an east coast girl transfer to an affluent, all-whiteprairie community? How about Medicine Hat? Exciting, nuanced...Medicine Hat.

Shit.

Try to contain your excitement. The painful re-positioning of a geographically specific story begins. And some cash might soften the blow. Might.

Next up on my solo slate: How to make Chub better when each note I get contradicts the next. Apparently it's loved for the same reasons it's hated. Personally, I think that's a good thing - polarization is a conversation starter - but clearly, my opinions have about as much weight as Mel's apology.

Casting, Day 1

2006-09-18T11:34:00.000-07:00

Today we begin casting for 'Team Leader', a short series that I co-wrote.

I'm sitting here in the casting office, aka the director's apartment, waiting on a 'little person' to come audition for the role of Captain Annoy-o, the obnoxious office wart that nobody likes. The producer told me that the little auditioner is to arrive via motorized cart. THIS is why I'm waiting by the window.

And, wouldn't you know it, but the Little-Cart-That-Could has stood us up. Normally I'd be peeved at missing such a rare opportunity, but luckily I am still riding the giggle-wave from the actor who just left. He came in to read for the lead role, and impressed me with his preparedness and ad-lib comedy. Let's hope the rest of the day is as entertaining.

Note to all you aspiring actresses out there: It's a bad idea to wear a Hooter's shirt to an audition. It doesn't matter if you look like Carmen Electra or Camryn Manheim... it's a first impression you don't want to make. Even if you're auditioning for Bikini Girl 7, dress professionally.

Anyway, the major reason for this post is because I wanted to share this, something I just came across while waiting for the Little Guy to come in. And no joke - between the time I began this post and right NOW, he has arrived. And his 'little' cart? It's heavy as hell. But most importantly, his resume is impressive, so fingers crossed...

How and Why

2006-09-15T21:24:00.000-07:00

I might be late on this one...if so, please indulge my amazement.

Watch this clip.

TIFF DAY 7 and 8

2006-09-15T12:51:00.000-07:00

This post is from two days ago...sorry for the delay!
Day 9 and best of TIFF coming tomorrow.

TIFF DAY 7

This morning has been blocked off for meetings, so no movies. I missed nothing of interest other than Black Sheep, reviews of which have been split – love or hate, those are your choices.

Meeting 1: Major League Baseball Advanced Media
Sutton Place, 9AM

I showed up to the zoo catching my breath because I thought I’d be late, to see the animals out in full force. Apple’s (that’s the name I’m giving to the guy I met, from NYC) assistant was kind enough to call and let me know he was going to be late. Thankfully, now I had a minute to try and collect my thoughts before pitching a project that I don’t know anything about.

Well, maybe that’s not totally fair…story goes, Baseball’s first year at the festival, and they’d like to get a sense of what’s out there. So they send out a blanket email asking those with ‘sports themed’ projects to give them a call. So I did, regarding a show idea my friend Jody and I goofed around with – and nothing more. No real development whatsoever save for a decent and comical premise. And now I’m pitching it.

Apple sat down amongst the mayhem and got right to the chase. He was a very quiet talker, and I found myself continuously asking ‘pardon?’ and ‘excuse me’ and finally ‘huh’…but eventually, I had to just nod and smile with most of what he said, because a) the room was deafening and b) he was whispering.

Anyhow, long story short, I was nervous around the pitch but got the basic essence out, to a seemingly interested response. I learned a bunch about MLBAM, about what they’re looking at for the future, and what they’re looking for. He asked me to send him a treatment for the pilot of 'Franchise Player' – which isn’t a no, so I’ll take that as a positive. I know it’s a bit of a long shot, but this show could never be made in Canada and these guys have their Abercrombie boxers lined with benjamins. So I’ll flush out a series from this and see where it goes.

Final Note: Don’t let someone try to make you do business in the Sutton Place lobby during the film festival, unless you’re a seasoned pro.

Meeting 2: Decode Entertainment
King St. East, 12:30PM

V.A. has wanted to set up this meeting for some time now, so I was excited when she called me (I was stumbling through a Club Monaco fitting room cursing my lack of exercise) last week to let me know. She mentioned that there was some question on their part as to whether I was actually interested in working for their demographic, or just looking for a gig.

Valid question. And frankly, glad they asked it. Truth is, I’d love to write a show for 8-14 year olds. I think it would be an absolute blast. And while I’m not going to get into a tirade on the importance of values in children’s programming, I would get a real lift from writing a kick-ass mystery/detective/adventure show aimed at the ‘imagination’ age that teaches them to make good decisions. I’ve got young brothers, 11 and 12. It would be fantastic to work on something they could watch with their buddies.

And I think the meeting went very well. I instantly enjoyed my Meetor (if I’m the Meetee) and felt the conversation was relaxed and casual. I would say that by the end of my meeting, I knew much more about exactly what they’re looking for. So, it was valuable.

It felt good to get out from the theatre and the Varsity for the morning. But that’s where I head off to now...

Only, it’s a bit of a dull day of programming. All through the hallways, people consult their little industry guides with a disappointed eyebrow furrow as they try to decipher which film they’ve never heard of to see. We settled on the…

ZIDANE: UN PORTRAIT DU XXIEME SIECLE

I should have known. It says right there in the synopsis: “This film does not so much reveal Zidane as observe him…”. Okay, so you’re telling me I’m not going to learn anything, I’m just going to watch a soccer game…an old soccer game…and old, uninteresting soccer game…oh, I don’t even get to watch the game? I get to get right up close to an aging midfielder who’s never played with his teammates before, doesn’t score, or get kicked out? Damn.

He’d better do a bicycle kick! Something!

Someone set up 17 35mm cameras to film Zidane’s first game playing for Real Madrid. All you do is watch him saunter around, spit on the pitch, and feign injury. I walked out.

TIFF DAY 7

I had high hopes for this day. Itching for something inspired.

PENELOPE
I found it. I’ve heard many call this fairy tale a boring cliché, a 'rip-off Tim Burton', but fuck them. Personally, I loved the first 50 minutes of this film. I needed something full of Technicolor whimsy, something with the built-in ‘smile’ of Big Fish. The first sequence hooked me, right there. Director Mark Palansky and his production design team did a beautiful job. The only thing I wasn’t sold on was the prosthetic pig nose – but because Palansky chose to shoot Ricci in ECU over and over again, it was destined for scrutiny.

The wheels kind of fell off towards the end, but I don’t really care. It was fun to watch - a great way to start off the day. And James McAvoy, the actor who charmed my pants off in The Last King of Scotland, was again fantastic. I can't say enough about him. I tell you, this Scot is a wonderful young actor – his stock is rising.

Reese Witherspoon was cute in a supporting role, but let’s face it, as Ali puts it, “she’s always cute”.

I left the theatre all chipper and cheerio, and then promptly discover my friend A.J. hated it. Go figure. That’s the magic of movies.

AFTER THE WEDDING

I was told this film was one of the best of the festival, and it did not disappoint. I’m not a crier in movies, but I was damn close in this one.

This poignant Danish (in Europe, moron) film, about being faced with a horrible decision with no good outcome, was powerful and moving in a way American cinema's been lacking for some time. Think Sophie’s Choice. Shawshank. For some, Schindler’s List. For others, Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey (bogus, indeed).

Performances all around the board were believeable without being melodramatic, and Rolf Lassgård in particular showed a raw sense of humanity with his portrayal of a billionaire who’s faced with something beyond his control.

Patrons drowned the credits in applause. Deserved applause.

After such a heavy film, I decided to see a 2 ½ hr. abortion documentary to lift my spirits.

LAKE OF FIRE

Any film that takes 15 years to make shouldn’t be allowed to run over 2 hours. Otherwise, we’ll end up with more and more 4 hr. Spike Lee Opus’ in years to come. And then it’s only a matter of time before Michael Moore’s damning indictment of the American porn industry requires you bring a pillow and jammies (and Lubriderm).

Two reasons I went to this film:
1. Director Tony Kaye (American History X) was so meticulous in his research, it took him 15 years to make.

2. I feel like this is the type of subject I don’t know enough about but should. The abortion debate is very much a window into what is fragmenting the American people into volatile camps that breed like lemmings and threaten USA’s position atop the pecking order.

The film is not for a casual viewer. It’s packed full of interviews presenting both arguments, and has some very graphic moments. I had to look away, once when they showed an aborted fetus, and once while showing an actual abortion. It’s heavy stuff, hard to watch. But you definitely get a clear sense of what is driving both sides. I, for one, didn’t know that God played such a mammoth role in this whole mess. And the religious right and Islamic militants share a disturbing number of commonalities.

I feel like I need to go home and take a long, hot shower. I’m speechless.

NOTE: I tried to go see the public Short Cuts screening tonight, but the rush line didn’t deliver, so I went to Hemmingway’s with Mike and Tess to wait for those who got into the films to resurface. Man, that bar is packed with chumps! Only during the festival, maybe?

Tomorrow is the last day of the festival – where they pack all the Canadian films. Looking forward to getting back to real life, doing some more writing, eating well, etc.

TIFF DAY 6

2006-09-13T07:54:00.000-07:00

TIFF DAY 6

It had to happen. I half-hoped I could dodge it, but, in true TIFF fashion, I was predestined for a day of stinker films. Apparently it’s a right of passage…I think I read that somewhere. So now I'm in the club, right? Right?

9:45AM
SHEITAN

I chose this film because it had the most interesting picture in the program guide. It showed a pretty blonde on all fours, catching the squirt from a sheep’s lactating udder in her smiling mouth. How bad could it be? It’s got pretty blondes, sheep, milk, and the first line in the description reads: “Fueled by pussy, booze, drugs, and hip hop…”. All the pillars of an instant classic.

And the first 20 minutes were great – high energy, aggressively charged cinematography, lots of swearing and violence...

But in the next 40 minutes, the film derailed for me. It went from a rambunctious party film to an awkward pursuit of sex. The singular focus of the three male leads was not engaging – I wasn’t rooting for any of them to get what they want. They spend the middle of the film rooting around this chick’s rural mansion and playing with her dad’s doll collection. And that’s pretty much it. Honest.

In the last 30 minutes, it turned into a gratuitously gory horror film, where our 5 teenagers run round and round dodging the menacing Joseph (more on him later). Then, I gasped in horror as it seemed to lean on the broken crutch of ‘it was all a dream’. I almost stormed the scene in disgust. Thankfully, the filmmaker took ‘Bad Endings 101’ and decided to make the dream a dream and return to the grotesque reality we just left (following? Me neither). By the end, I was rubbing my eyes from all the gross blood, and kinda shrugging. Huh? was the question of this film. I’m not sure what it was or what it wanted to be, but the confused muddling of set pieces, violent outbursts, and sexy advances didn’t amount to much.

The beacon of light comes from excellent actor Vincent Cassel, who plays Joseph, a simple groundskeeper who just might be the devil reincarnate. He steals the film from the other actors and the director with his ability to portray the character’s cerebral struggle on screen. It was a pleasure to watch.

Again, if you have a chance to see Sheitan, turn it off after they get to the country. It’s all downhill from there.

12PM
ALL THE BOYS LOVE MANDY LANE

An attempt to scratch the gloss of contemporary teen slasher films, Mandy Lane suffered from the same genre confusion that plagued Sheitan. While there’s absolutely nothing wrong with dancing between genres, if it’s sloppy and seemingly without direction, it’s going to scream on the screen. And your audience won't.

The first scene was well done, where we learn why Mandy and Emmett are no longer friends. Then they all pile into rich-kid cars and head for an overnight at the secluded ranch – haven’t they seen the same teen horrors we have? You NEVER, EVER bring three hot girls and three cool guys to the middle of nowhere for a night of booze, drugs, and sex. Sure, you may get laid, but you won't live to brag about it.

Throw in a handsome ranch-tender (played by Anson Mount, Jim Caviezel’s long-lost younger brother) who’s handy with a shotgun, and you’ve got your obligatory red herring target. Only you know exactly who the killer’s going to be before they even leave for the ranch, so the red herring has no impact.

Then, as the teens die one by one, the writer (and first time director – surprise!) throws in a couple twists and turns showing that Mandy Lane isn’t so innocent after all – only logically, this doesn’t work. These plot ‘surprises’ are contrived, uninspired, and cliché. This worked great in the Scream films, which were satires of the genre. Mandy Lane wants to be a satire – but only when it is convenient for a line of dialogue or a one-dimensional character. Otherwise, it takes itself way too seriously for it to be dramatic. Even the ‘scary’ moments aren’t particularly scary, save for the one scene where the slasher cuts the eyes of a soon-to-be-bludgeoned, leaving him to crawl around a dark field while being tortured.

I heard people saying that they liked this highly anticipated film. The Weinstein Co. bought Mandy Lane, what should be a direct-to-video film, at this festival. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe the Weinstein’s are right – this is only a matter of opinion - But I felt disappointed with what ultimately was just the same old, same old uninteresting, predictable film.

2:45
THE LAST WINTER

Disappointed by the last two films, I was looking forward to what was billed as a ‘sharp, nervy ghost story’ and eco-critique. First off, who writes these TIFF blurbs? And why are they forced to sugarcoat elements of these films, even though they’re blatantly not good? I would much rather they avoid the negatives and focus on the positives rather than euphemizing the negatives into redeeming qualities.

In what was ultimately a thinly veiled critique of Cheney’s top-secret energy plans, the ghost story seemed to be fabricated so that the writer/director could get his point across without having to make a documentary. The resulting script and performances lacked any punch or originality, and honestly, was painful to watch. The worst film of the day – I walked out.

I figured after three bad films, I better not push my luck. I have a big day tomorrow to prepare for, which I’ll tell you about…tomorrow.

TIFF DAY 5

2006-09-12T14:27:00.000-07:00

TIFF DAY 5

It was my intention to watch Away From Her today at 10:00AM, but I arrived to a very long line of industry and press. So far, the busiest film I’ve seen, including Borat and For Your Consideration. So, instead of snaking around stanchions with increasingly ferocious filmies, I decided to take the time to do some work, and catch films later in the day.

1pm
THE KILLER WITHIN
I had heard this documentary compared to Capturing the Friedmans, a docu-mystery which I loved. And the first ten minutes of this film failed to disappoint, as we were introduced to a meek 70-something man who murdered his college bully in his sleep 50 years ago. The film was his coming out: Subtitles told us this is the first time he would share his story with his friends, family, co-workers, and the world. Bob Brechtel claims that his goal is to wake the world up to the dangers of ‘bully culture’, that he deducts incubates killers and victims from a young age. Then, we meet the brother of the man he killed, who says that if Brechtel says he murdered his brother because he was bullied, then it’s a figment of his legally insane imagination and the slander must stop.

It looked to be a classic, 'who do you beleive' type of setup, with all the makings of an eventual 3rd act showdown where the viewer could form their own conclusion as to the merit and validity of the subject’s argument. But they never met.

The result was an interesting case centered around a bland, uninteresting subject that went nowhere. Sure, he gave ‘full disclosure’, but to what result? What conclusion? It was more than evident that the audience was bored as hell after 45 minutes. I would much rather have continued to chat with Steven Zeitchik, the Variety reporter sitting beside me.

3pm
A FEW DAYS IN SEPTEMBER
I chose this film because the line for ‘Half Life of Timofey Berezin’ was daunting. And I’m glad I did.

This is the directorial debut of veteran screenwriter Santiago Amigorena. Roughly half the film took place in Paris, half in Venice, hence a natural France/Italy co-pro.

The film was a thrill-less thriller about the five days leading up to 9/11. I say it was thrill-less because it was a sexy character drama that focused significantly more on the interactions of three strangers than it did on the whodunit. I thought the script was excellent (no surprise), and with lots of close-ups of its beautiful stars (especially Sara Forestier, who’s a French version of Michelle Rodriguez, only attractive) I almost didn’t notice it was 20 minutes too long. Almost.

What the film suggests is that it’s as absurd to think the CIA rerouted the planes that dropped the Twin Towers as it is to think no one but Bin Laden knew what was going to happen.

The latter is what comprises the film’s story, about a shadowy American who tells the Saudis that they should withdraw ALL of their American holdings immediately– but not why.

Why? is the big question in this film, and I am of the opinion that as long as you get your answers at the end, asking WHY is an excellent way to watch a movie. And the audience applauded despite a flat, predictable climax, which I think says something coming from such a jaded, seen-it-all-before group.

5:45PM
THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY
This is exactly the type of rom-com debut feature you would expect from an actor-turned-writer/director: wacky, out-there characters (I would bet thousands he pitched them as Quirky), some funny dialogue, some really bad jokes, a decent soundtrack, and the obnoxious ‘speed up/slow down’ thing that young directors seem to get so jazzed about. The result is a poor movie with some good moments. And Isla Fisher’s father sticking her diaphragm into his sandwich is not one of them.

Jason Biggs was good in this film, even if it was the same character he played in the American Pie franchise (it didn’t help matters that his father character was the same, watered down version of Eugene Levy’s in those films). Joey Pants’ turn as a jailbird father rivals Tim Robbins' racist villain as the worst performance by a good actor at this festival.

Director Michael Ian Black is an asshole, if his Celebrity Poker performance is any indication, and therefore I feel no fault in declaring this movie a delicate disaster. The entire premise, about a guy who asks a complete stranger to marry him – she says yes – is ridiculous and requires a great leap of faith. Even worse is the typical ‘girl uncovers guy’s secret and kicks him out’ moment at the mid-point of the 2nd act that lacked any firepower whatsoever. Zero emotional impact. Why? Because these two strangers did not yet formed a relationship (his fault as the writer, and another reason why young directors shouldn't necessarily direct their own scripts). For god's sake, they hadn’t even kissed before she finds out he was once engaged and banishes him to take public transit home.

I wish that all first-time romantic comedy writers could read this script. It’s an excellent example of how a few gaggy set-pieces and ‘zany’ characters DO NOT guarantee gold on the screen, but instead can isolate the audience and their emotions if small things like ‘plot’ and ‘logic’ aren’t tended to.

And now, I’m going home. Got a headache and a tickle in my throat. I hope I’m not getting sick.

TIFF DAY 4

2006-09-11T17:07:00.000-07:00

9:30AM
FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION

Everyones been excited about this film. Its been buzzing around the festival along with Borat and DoaP. Christopher Guests departure from the mockumentary genre wasnt such a departure after all because much of the film is told through the lens of an Entertainment Tonight type show, it allows for the direct-to-camera interviews that have been a stalwart of his films since Guffman.

This movie, about actors caught up in internet Oscar buzz during the production of a film called Home for Purim, is very funny. I love ensembles, and GuestÂs familiar cast does their 'thang damn well. It must be tough for a director to divvy up screen time for all of these fantastic actors and characters, but I suppose its an enviable position. I find it challenging as a young writer to balance ensemble scenes, let alone full features of 10-plus major characters.

Watched this with Patrick, Hannam, and Dan, and I think its safe to say the four of us laughed pretty much through the whole film. Particularly guffaw-worthy is Fred Willard as Ryan Seacrest circa 2035. His hair got a laugh EVERY TIME he appeared on screen I think thats a viewing first for me.

At the end of the day, I would say that this film was better than 'Mighty Wind' but not 'Best in Show'. Great actors like Ed Begley Jr. and Eugene Levy were underused (someone had to be), although Guest gets applause from me for not allowing this film to balloon into a 2hr-plus viewing. At 86 minutes, it was just long enough to be near-great. Which on the scale is much better than good and only slightly below great, or an 89% if it were a test. No more films today, as were off to the

CFC BBQ

We got there really early, which felt fairly awkward at first but turned out to be an astute strategic move. We hit the lengthy food lines before anyone else got there. Usually, you join the queue hungry, and by the time you get to the front youre so fucking ravished that the topsoil starts to look like ground beef and yards of shepherds pie mirage begins to line the CFC patio. Not this year I was fed and full with tons of time left over to schmooze. Mark my words: I will now be the annual uncomfortably early to the BBQ guy.

But I find three hours is a bit long to present the plastic smile and kung-fu grip. I did meet some neat new folks, specifically Tess Girard, a young director, and Alex Epstein, who, I must say, can rock a chocolate safari hat like nobodys business. Part shade, part deterrent, part statement, part self-defense ALL style.

But otherwise, I found myself drifting from group to group, latching on to someone I knew until they ran into someone I didnt. Once their conversation turned to old times/their kids/Milan fashion/something I couldnt contribute to, I moved on like the crazy corduroyed (I was told it was appropriate for the season, apparently not) nomad of the BBQ.

While on the topic of my wardrobe malfunction, I found myself sweating like a Muslim at the airport for most of the afternoon. And I couldnt take my blazer off because I had cultivated quite a collection of sweat stains under said jacket. I was aware of Armpit Ponds 1 and 2, and Lower Back Lake, but I expect there would have been some unwelcome surprises had I shed the overcoat and gone for the gusto.

It was much less populated than last year about 1100 instead of 3000. This allowed the CFCs army of raffle-ticket saleswomen to circle the food tables and bombard us with offers of discontinued iPod Mini skins and raffle tickets. What I found amazing is that many of the thugs...ahem, salespeople were pitching us to contribute to the Canadian Film Institute, the Cdn Film School, even the Cdn Film College. I did not give these good people my $20 bucks Im still debating whether I got my $5000 worth from last year.

Despite the gang assaults, it was good to see the same people Ive been seeing every day since Thursday. Im going to miss Weird Skinny Mullet Guy, Mrs. Dont-Own-A-Bra, and the Mustachioed Three when the festival wraps.

After this, I absolutely had to go get some exercise. Whatever I felt inside of me, it wasn't healthy. A steady diet of street meat and popcorn had me feeling even less healthy than usual. I ran around for a few hours, and felt marginally better about myself...for a few more hours.

Final thought: Im a bit enraged that a writer friend of mine, a CFC ALUMN, didnt receive an invite to the party. How can they do that? contributedt a working writer that has contirubted tsvelte culture of the building, so that svelt housewives can bring their designer-clad fauxhawked kiddies to kick people in the shins and dance around the grass? Just saying. And those who know me know how much I love affectionate things that are smaller than me. This isn't about them. It's about doing what's right.

TIFF DAYS 2 and 3

2006-09-09T19:03:00.000-07:00

DAY 2.

THE USA VS. JOHN LENNON

I love the Cumberland. I find the entire experience much more pleasant than the Varsity – from the staff, to the crowds, to the theatres. I can safely say that I’ve never seen a bad fest film at the Cumberland. Ever. Come to think of it, going forward I'll make it a contractal requirement that any film I write must open at the Cumberland. It’ll ward off bad spirits.

Anyhow: This film was good. I admit to not being well-versed in Lennon’s personal history (as a producer at a party last night informed me, he died the year before I was born), so there wasn’t much about this film that was repetitive. VH1 was involved, and it featured exclusive interviews with Yoko, G. Gordon Libby, George McGovern, and Gore Vidal (who I dig – and you know who also earned himself a barrelful of Budd Points? McGovern. Why couldn’t a man like this be elected President? I blame inconvienient timing and the intraparty tinkering.)

Vietnam, Communism, and Nixon (Think Iraq, Islam, and Bush with bellbottoms) are at the forefront of this film. Without mentioning current events at all, the doc quietly illuminates the devious criminality going on south of the border today. And you can be sure that 20 years from now, investigative films about the current administration will be FLOODING the theatres, and we’re all going to be sick to our stomachs and vow to never let it happen again…until the next time.

Add to the interviews some very candid footage of John that really showed his wit, humor, and moral constitution…result? A decent, if not great, movie. It’s really a total talking head/archives doc, but the subject is interesting and engaging enough to put the cuffs on my ADD for 90 minutes.

Favorite Line: “Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel” – Gore Vidal

BORAT CULTURAL LEARNINGS OF AMERICAN FOR MAKE BENEFIT GLORIOUS NATION OF KAZAKHS

Fuck. Let’s have a round of applause for 20th Century Fox, who, after watching “Team America”, must have thought: “Eh...That’s only so-so offensive. Let's raise the bar, shall we?”

Borat's targets: Jews, Women, Gays, Rednecks, Jews, New Yorkers, Blacks, University students…and Jews.

Borat is so overtly inappropriate that you don’t question for a second where his true self lies. It’s a spectacle indeed, and something that everyone should see. Cohen explains it as “a dramatic demonstration of how racism feeds on dumb conformity, as much as rabid bigotry.” The Kazakh government doesn’t agree, but really, they don’t hold much weight in the Valley. Even Billy Baldwin has more clout.

Jay Roach, Todd Phillips, Sasha Cohen, Larry Charles. It’s a no brainer. The film is hilarious. Absolutely and totally make-your-cheeks-ache funny. I don’t want to ruin any of it for anyone, so that’s all I’m giving you.

Favorite Line: “Children! Run and stomp on the egg before the Jew Chick hatches!”

TIFF DAY 3

Last night was party kick-off night. I started at a pre-party for ‘up-and-comers’. I hate this phrase. Up-and-comers? Where am I coming from? And why does it connote that I was nowhere before? Do they have Down-and-Leavers parties? I want an invite to that one.

This was hosted by Roma Khanna, Senior VP of content at the mighty Chum. She was very pleasant, as were most of her guests. I met some very nice people that I could see working with in the future, had some great spring rolls, and got to soak up the Spoke patio which I always hate until I get there.

After that, the big ‘schmooze’ (sounds like a spreadable treat) at City TV, where thousands of screaming fans wait for their favorite celebs to prance down the red carpet and into the party. Only thing is that none of these ‘celebs’ were actually in the party, save for the obligatory Canadian content. Or maybe they were, and I'm just not cool enough to know it. Regardless, I had a blast, enjoyed many beverages, got rained on, introduced myself around as Emmett, and saw some old CFC friends.

But fun last night isn't fun for today. I’ve got the hat, hood, and sunglass uniform on. Thank god all I have to do is sit in a dark room and gorge on buttered popcorn. God bless butter.

THE LAST KING OF SCOTLAND

I’m one of those guys who hasn't ever really been impressed by Forest Whitaker. I didn’t like Ghost Dog, so there’s that. While I respected him as an actor, I didn’t understand the high praise he receives from better educated cinephiles.

After watching this movie, I get it. Forest Whitaker is an excellent actor. And he gives a look that makes Don Cheadle’s legendary stare whimper like a belt-whipped Schnauser. I’ll wait for an Oscar nod before I roll out the I-told-you-so’s.

James McAvoy was also great, more than standing ground with Forest’s performance. Nice to see Agent Scully in the rural Uganda. Although she really served no purpose, nor were the first ten minutes necessary to relay his character arc, but I'll allow the indulgence.

Idi Amin was a ‘child’, as he’s described in the film. A child that ruled a nation. And to the filmmaker’s credit, as well as Whitaker’s, you actually like this brutal dictator at times. He’s charming. He’s friendly. He’s a psychopath! Evidence A: He kills one of his wives and chops off her limbs...then re-stitches her arms where her legs should be and vice versa. Very hard to watch.

Yet a very commanding film. You can’t take your eyes off Whitaker, because as Idi Amin, he’s always got his eyes on you. Literally. He stares for a good part of the movie. And it speaks volumes.

Between this and Borat, the two best film’s I’ve seen yet. Not that I’ve seen that many…but I have yet to walk out on a snoozer...

FALKENBERG FAREWELL

I spoke too soon.

A) I couldn’t understand these Swedes. They talk too damn fast, and that’s that. Also, the subtitles were in a font with like, 35% opacity. So they were almost illegible.
B) I saw way too many penises in the first ten minutes to continue watching. Call me old fashioned, but I like my penises spread throughout a film, not front-loaded.

CATCH A FIRE

I was in line for All The King’s Men, but there’s another screening later in the week and I overheard this was going to be good from two 'woMen' sitting across from me at breakfast.

I don’t think it was, however. Some may disagree, but I found it s l o w. Maybe I was all Africa’d out from the Amin film, I dunno, I just wasn’t into it. It took forever to get going, and for no good reason. The few engaging scenes came too late.

The script was average at best, but stood out specifically for Tim Robbins, who spits some very poor dialogue. He’s a good actor, but this was not a good performance, lacking in nuance and depth. Derek Luke showed me more range than he did in Biker Boyz or Moesha. This emotional type of film is exactly what your agent tells you will get you ‘serious work’.

I fell asleep at the end. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I blame the butter.

TIFF DAY 1

2006-09-07T18:06:00.000-07:00

TIFF DAY 1

11:00 AM
KABUL EXPRESS

Squeaked my way into a seat at the last minute. This guy’s breakfast Dr. Pepper is occupying MY cup holder. Had to wedge a water bottle between my legs. The stress of keeping my crotch dry from designer water cost me at least three grey hairs.

I remember reading about this film in Variety, specifically the mag touting director Kabir Khan as the only regional renegade capable of making the first film shot entirely in Afghanistan since the fall of the Taliban. I remember thinking, ‘cool!’, followed by ‘this guy's got big ones.'

Synopsis: Weeks after September 11th, two Indian journalists go to Afghanistan hoping get a rare interview with a Taliban member. They finally find one – who kidnaps them and their chauffeur, forcing them to sneak him to the Pakistani border.

What’s good: The two leads, John Abraham (if it were the 80’s, he’d be the Indian Richard Grieco) and Arshad Warsi were excellent. They were a great buddy duo. And despite the subject matter, the film had some classically funny moments. Humanizing the Taliban kidnapper is what separated this film from an American version of the same story. The climax, while predictable, still evoked an emotional response from a jaded, seen-it-all-before audience of press and industry folk.

What’s bad: It was a bit of a struggle casting the American Reuters journalist who’s beauty is only surpassed by her….

Well, usually, this character has another redeeming quality, but the only thing she contributed to the film was getting the other characters in trouble. The audience actually groaned at the trite, melodramatic dialogue that Khan gave her (as the rest of the writing was tight, was this a deliberate attempt to embarrass the sole American character? I hope so).

And another thing: Whoever told Linda Aresnio she could act was lying. She made Beyonce’s performance in Goldmember look like Meryl in Sophie’s Choice. The last time I saw such an over-the-top performance, the pony-tailed pizza man just followed the sorority girl to her bedroom so she could get the correct change (and I could go on…)

And for most of us westerners who ignorantly assume Afghanistan and India and Iraq and Iran are all the same cratered oppressors, the film did an excellent job of separating and identifying Indian ideology and characteristics from Afghan, from Pakistani.

“These guys carry guns like we carry cell phones.” A great line of dialogue from the two Indian journalists.

Overall, I enjoyed it. And I won the arm-rest.

1:45
LONDON TO BRIGHTON

Got a seat where I could put my feet up. I heard a recent study that this increases viewing pleasure 187%. Don’t ask me to cite my sources, but suffice to say I could have watched the Motorola commercial on a 90-minute loop and been pleased as punch (whatever that means).

Billed as the gritty gangster funfests that the Brits are known for, this flawed but watchable film was really about the loss of innocence. It was certainly much more emotionally commanding than the average mob flick, but the gangster stuff actually wasn’t very interesting – especially the antagonists, who were foul-mouthed, 5-o’clock shadowed carbon copies of the worst Guy Ritchie villian.

Fortunately for this film, the protagonists were great, and a departure from the norm.
The film followed an unattractive streetwalker and a 12 yr. old runaway as they flee from the mob. The only twist on the "common-pimp-bullied-by-a-organized-boss-into-catching-one-of -his-hoes-who-done-him-wrong" story was this: Within 5 minutes, the mob boss cut the tendons of pimp’s hamstrings, causing the pimp to run around England limping and bleeding, chasing our heroines for two acts. Talk about really cranking the stakes and tension.

I liked it despite itself and was engaged right up until the predictable ending. I have never understood why we defer to Movie Logic in this scenario:

Mob boss sends the henchman to do hunt down someone who fucked him over. Only in the third act, once he gets them all together, in a ‘dramatic twist’ he kills the henchman and lets the two people (always our heroes) he’s spent the WHOLE FUCKING MOVIE HUNTING walk away free.

So, dog sends cat to catch mouse. Cat comes back with mouse, dog kills cat. Why didn’t dog just kill cat at the beginning? Why put cat throught the motions? Why worry mouse unnecessarily?

Enough about dogs and cats. Today was Festival Lite. I’m going to get a good night’s sleep. Because tomorrow, after a hectic viewing schedule, the parties begin.

TGITIFF!

2006-08-29T12:48:00.000-07:00

It's coming.

No, not the Hollywood Blockbuster, "Broken Karr: The John Mark Karr Story" (what is it that makes 3-name guys psycho?). The industry's sensitivity and etiquette will surely stall this producton for at least 3 months before exploiting this nutjob's desperate attempt for his 15 minutes, which, not surprisingly, is older than he likes his women.

I'm talking about THE Film Festival. I call it that because it's the most important festival I've been to (LA fest, for all it's charms, is a distant second), and it's the closest fest of any consequence geographically (sorry, Hamilton Film and Video fest).

I've armed myself with a festival pass, a comfortable day pack, some culturally relevant sunglasses, and closed-toed shoes (it's chilly in the Varsity). Ready? Steady? It's movie-watchin' time!

While I love any excuse to bunker up in a dark room with a Bilbo Baggins-sized tub of popcorn, the festival signals a chance to see films that won't hit the cinemas, and, because I'm too lazy to seek them out, films I'd likely never see otherwise.

Last year's Danish "Pusher" trilogy is a great example. Note: Link is to the original - Pusher 2 and 3 get better and better and round out this gritty Tarantinoesque (the next term on my list to die) spectacle of everything gangsteriffic.

I've also signed up for TIFF's festival blog page. While I'm not contractually obliged to do so, I will attempt to summarize each day's viewing, meetings, parties, and overall experience of pretending I belong in Yorkville.

As things come up, they shall be reported. I'm crazy swamped until the 7th with some freelance copy gigs (bills can be paid, kneecaps safe another month) and finishing up the two scripts I promised before the festival begins.

So for all those who aren't able to attend TIFF, saddle up and stay tuned for a fringe observer's wide-eyed wanderings around the greatest festival on Earth.

And no, if I happen to run into Brad Pitt, I won't tell him you said hi. I'm with Jennifer all the way.

P.S.: Why does J-Lo get to come? Selena and Out of Sight aside, she should stay home and tend to her husband, Skeletor.

Two Things That Couldn't Wait Until My Next Post

2006-08-13T15:30:00.000-07:00

1. GO SEE LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE.

Today. Satisfaction guaranteed. If you can tell me it isn't the best English-language film you've seen in the theater this year, I'll refund your money (not guaranteed). Now this is how you write a third act.

I'll even make it easy for you. Click here for Toronto showtimes. Now you have no excuse. Thank me later.

2. I recently watched the first season of Weeds. It was great. While surfing Defamer for my catty gossip fix, I stumbled upon an ad for Weeds Season 2, beginning this week. I clicked on the ad, and - GASP - this is what I got. I'm not sure disappointed is the correct word - enraged might better sum up my instant mood change. What the fuck is this? Are they serious? Who the fuck do they think they are? Or, more importantly, who the fuck do they think we are?

Sizzling Summer Round-up

2006-08-04T08:28:00.000-07:00

I've decided to take a break from sweating profusely to sweat minimally and discuss the status of my three projects of interest currently cluttering desks in 'the ‘marketplace’.

Marigold Moon:

My first feature. The one that got me into the CFC, where it was workshopped and re-written. This story of female teenage empowerment managed to offend one (apparently) easily-offendable female director (no one of importance, trust me), but that draft is long gone. As it stands, it’s finally going in a direction that seems organic and feels right. I’m told that this is the closest to breaking. There is a production company keen on becoming involved. And it's funny -- the project is being championed by a female. So I guess the whole ‘you disgust me, you misogynist asshole’ thing has been rectified. Or perhaps her anger stems from somewhere else entirely...

Anyway, they are looking for a ‘mainstream Telefilm darling’ to direct. And therefore, I guess, so am I. Any mainstream Telefilm darlings reading this, feel free to contact me for a complimentary copy*!

* comes complete with low-maintenance writer and can of caffeine-free Fanta.

Chub:

Has gotten attention from a few places, mostly out west. I wonder if it’s no coincidence that Western Canada is where the script is set. I hope to be meeting with a handful of folks when they come in for TIFF. The Producer and Director for whom it was written still haven’t read Chub, but we’re working on that.

The same company we’re close with for Marigold Moon also seems to love Chub (although I don’t think they’ve read it). This has me excited, because…

I’d love to work with them. I’ve not heard a bad word about them (although opinions are like assholes…I’m sure you’ve heard), their work ethic is impressive, and most importantly, they exhibit a true passion for the projects they take on. But, ever aware I may jinx it, I shall say no more. For now.

Nannies:

My hour drama seems to have the ‘rollercoaster effect’ – and I hope it keeps this way.
After they read the short synopsis, almost everyone is interested, can see it in their head, finds it unique / familiar enough, and can see the potential.

Then, they read the one-sheet. Here’s where the coaster dips toward the screaming parents choking on their candy apples, staring up as their children plummet towards their concrete caskets.

Apparently the one sheet does not come across as well thought-out. Lots on character, little in the way of what ‘actually happens’. With this criticism, I’m afraid I agree. It’s because I wasn’t clear myself on exactly what happens, day to day, week to week. Since I’ve finished the pilot, the world and characters have flushed themselves out –and now, when people read the pilot, my hope is that the rollercoaster ascends once again (but doesn’t fall if/when Nannies is broadcast).

That’s an up-to-date update (‘to’ must feel really left out). When I left the CFC, I didn’t realize how impatient I’d be. I promised myself (and those involved) that as long as I was making ‘progress’ (whatever that means), I would be content. And, here I am, progressing, and I’m not content. Or maybe I am, but I just don’t know it. I'm not great at isolating emotions.

I was under no false notions of ‘making it’ right out of the gates. I mean, even Kobe Bryant rode the pine during his rookie season! For every Brad Peyton (aka Amare Stoudemire, Rookie of the Year), there is a Kobe (Budd=Mamba?) Now, here I am, 8 months out, dying for that moment when I can finally feel like part of the gang. It’s hard to feel like a writer sometimes. Just writing doesn’t always cut it. That being said:

My scribey-sense is tingling. I feel closer than ever before. Which means progress, right? What I wanted. So I can’t complain – I just really want to have a snappy response to ‘So, how’s the ‘writing’ thing going? Still at it? Hey, good for you! It’s important to have a hobby.’

If I have to be patient, then so does the chorus of family members/casual acquaintances that know nothing of the industry and even less about a writer’s role and realities within it. I do know that even if I have three features in production, until I make 'Father of the Bride: Jewish Edition' (maybe Mel will direct?), I’ll never be considered a success.

If that is the litmus test… then grab a brush and paint me a failure.

Voulez Vous Pleurez Avec Moi?

2006-07-20T08:52:00.000-07:00

Just got back from Montreal, and:

On a downtown walking tour (self-guided, not led by one of those fanny-pack wearing Masters students) I came across a sight so marvelous, so inspiring, I had to make mention.

Big movie theaters like we have here - 10, 12 screen multiplexes with overpriced concessions and weird space-pod motifs...were screening movies I'd never heard of. Massive, floor to ceiling posters, banners, die-cut advertisements...all for a bunch of French movies I couldn't even pronounce.

Other than Cars, there was not a single American Blockbuster on the schedule. I was confused at first, then hopeful, then angry. Angry because the anglophones cannot follow suit.

It's obvious that these films have some money behind them - and it's obvious that people will go to see homegrown Canadian features.

It's also painfully obvious that the French have one-upped us. But the MOST painful part is having to admit it.

Edit Your Scrabble Dictionary Accordingly

2006-07-14T19:56:00.000-07:00

Attention writers:

It’s official.

From this day forward, you will no longer have the luxury of resting on the old, worn crutch to describe your characters, scenes, plots, conflicts, dialogue, imagery, tone, theme, and music. Assigning characteristics and attributes to the aforementioned must now require a whole 0.005 seconds of thought.

Say goodbye to ‘quirky’.

I’m killing it. Skewing this shitty little Q, setting it on fire, burying it 600 feet beneath the core of acceptable lexicon.

Why? That’s not the real question. The real question is: Why has it taken this long?

I interviewed for a staff job on a little show. The interviewer was a lovely lady, sharp and motivated - I’ll not hold her accountable for her handicap. On six distinct and separate occasions, she referred to her character by the dreaded Q. I tried to mask the violent tremors racing through my body like an Asian teen’s Accord - not sure I was successful.

The cherry? On the subway ride home, I checked out the one sheet she gave me to peruse. Guess how many times Q was used on a single 8.5x11 piece of paper? Twice. On ONE SHEET. That’s exactly four times more than it should have appeared.

It’s lazy. There’s no less descriptive descriptor. It’s vapid and vague and vacuous (This triple V thing has me beaming - Embarrassing Fact #326). It’s used to instil some sort of spice, but its very use carries exactly the opposite connotation - bland.

It’s an instant red flag.

Filmy McTuberstein: “You’ve got a great character. Really funny - I mean, quirky…[beat to let it sink in] … and not the usual quirks, either. Really quirky quirks --

Me: “ (inside my brain) MAYDAY!! Sinking ship!! Wait...wet shoes. Shit. I hate wet shoes. It means wet socks...and that’s no good…

It’s like a megaphone going off between my ears.

Here’s the thing: If you know your story, and have lived with any element of its being, you MUST be able to pinpoint what makes your [insert story element here] important and unique.

This is a blanket affliction, a disease industry-wide. I do my absolute best not to fall prey to its guiles. I think it replaced ‘zany’ in the mid 90’s. Well, quirky has met its maker now.

There’s no higher authority on this matter. Consider it done. And, please - use a real adjective.

Let us all join hands and say goodbye.

Random note I couldn’t fit into the body of this posting 1: I really wanted to call this post ‘Death Cab For Quirky’, but thought the title would steal the punch from my intro. Was I right?

Random note I couldn’t fit into the body of this posting 2: I don’t mean to sound elitist. Honest. It’s just the way it is.

The Great Outdoors

2006-07-03T12:57:00.000-07:00

Life is good.

I’m three days into my office retirement, and all signs point to it ranking right up there with trying hummus and dating Ali on the ‘Best Decisions I’ve Ever Made’ list.

I write this post from Brechin, Ontario, which is Orillia-ish (I’m no Magellan). I’m at Ali’s cottage, sitting about 15 feet from the shores of Simcoe under arborous shade, semi-reclined on a semi-recliner. Shades down, shirt open, my furry tummy exposed to the elements…and I couldn’t be happier. This is what I was dreaming of when I declined my contract extension.

Ali’s father recently equipped this cottage with the holiest of holies - the internet - and one wireless hub later, I’m sitting dockside watching monkeys shit in football helmets on YouTube. God bless this World Wide Web.

Since acquiring my laptop a year ago, the Internet (capital I) has become my school, my gossipy gay friend, and my mistress all at once. Not to mention that having web access allows me to do freelance copy work from up here, and keeps me in communicato with the various projects I’ve got going on. Which I guess is important too…I can get to that stuff in between clicking ‘refresh’ on Bill Simmons web chats.

This is as close to heaven as I’ll ever be allowed to get. Other than meetings and social events, I’ve got no reason to be in the city this summer. I’ll be bouncing between Brechin and Wasaga Beach, where my parents and brothers will be ‘summering’ (I feel like a goddamn Kennedy).

Why do I need the city this summer? From the 705, I can write, contact agencies about work, send scripts/outlines/pitches wherever they need be, and generally enjoy life without an alarm clock.

That being said, 2006 is not going to be the summer of relaxation, where Josh pretends he’s much more financially endowed than his bank account indicates. It’s going to be a busy one. I’ve got no intention of sitting back - I made this transition to free up writing time, and I aim to make the most of it.

I’m in pre-production on a short series called Team Leader. It’s a serial comedy, each episode 5 minutes, to be viewed online, via podcast, or through vendors like Atom Films. Both the producer and the co-writer are well versed in the burgeoning mobile distribution field (they currently have a show boasting 20,000 downloads. Check it out HERE).

We’re all pretty pumped about Team Leader. The Team Leader Team is going at it on our own, which of course means scraping some sheckels together and begging for favors. But, there are perks. Having total creative control is like having Jared Leto’s black book. Let’s just hope we get better actors.

I’m excited to shoot something again. When I was making shorts, I loved the casting process, gathering the props, and scouting locations (yes, I’ve got a few responsibilities outside the realm of ‘writer’). By the way, if anyone knows of a cubicled office we can shoot in over an August weekend (skeleton crew), please contact me. Doing me this solid would guarantee your entrance to heaven (I've talked to the boss - he says it's cool), no matter how many family members you secretly hate or the number of intoxicated indiscretions notched on your bedpost (or rap sheet).

There is a potential distributor we’re chatting with - and there are even murmurs of some cash to help the production go along (which I’m not sure means bye-bye to creative control!). If this materializes, I’ll report, but regardless, I’m certain you’ll be hearing all of the successes and pitfalls of Team Leader over the next few months.

While I’m up here this week, I hope to finish the second draft of Chub. There are some production companies that have expressed interest in it from my agent’s trip out West. Talk about motivation - the minute I hear someone wants to read a project, I get into full re-write mode (followed by the requisite ‘I’ve ruined it! I’m finished’ hissy-fit. What a headcase…I know).

But up north, the air is fresh, the sun is out, and three little ducks are floating aimlessly across the lake. Just like them, my life up here is generally stress free. What is there to complain about? "Get these motherfucking spiders off this motherfucking deckchair!" will likely be the extent of my aggravation.

Yes, I hate bugs. Never has a more appropriate name been given. Despite entomophobia joining the growing list of my illogical hang-ups, I couldn’t be more excited about my future, both professionally, and personally. Big dreams from a small cottage...

The Ink Interview

2006-06-28T07:19:00.000-07:00

A few weeks back I did an interview over email for Karen Walton's InkCanada (THE Canadian Screenwriter's community...growing and growing...). It allowed a group of writers much more successful than me (for now) to learn about the project...any way I can spread the word.

She's been kind enough to allow me to post the transcript here. Thanks KW.

KW. Your blog rarely gives away much about exactly what you are writing, but is heavy on the number of projects you are pursuing, and a certain recurring theme is, the time involved. Can you talk about why those two elements seem to be a focus for you, personally, right now?

Before I begin – Hi Karen! How are ya? I hope you’re well. I know I am…there’s light at the end of my tunnel. With that in mind, I dutifully answer your queries...

Now, to your question: It’s because I feel there is a real lack of time. There’s pressure - I probably put it on myself, but I’ll argue that doesn’t make it any less valid. It’s like I’m wading in the shallow waters, feeling the waves crashing into my legs, pushing towards the shore (wow, that’s really nerdy). I’ve only been out of the CFC for 6 months: I don’t know who I’m chasing, or why they’re beating me to the punch, but I’ve got this nagging sense of catch-up. It’s my own hang-up (one of many). Also, being the only one of my class that took full-time work right after my stint on Bayview ended, I felt like I put myself behind the 8-ball before someone broke the rack. That addresses the time issue. Now, number of projects I’m pursuing? I’ve got a lot of ideas ;)

Seriously, it’s that I’m fortunate enough to have a great group of talented friends and collaborators, and when they ask me if I want to do a project with them, I shriek ‘Yes!’ like two banshees screwing on ecstasy. I’ve yet to learn the art of saying no (not that I’ve wanted to, but the barrel only carries so many apples before the bottom breaks and you find yourself stepping over an avalanche of fruit in forty-two dollar shoes…).

While I do want to work on everything I commit to, and am committed to everything I take on, I am learning the limitations of the finite hours per day (as discussed above), and, despite being Superman (the straight version, not the screen version), I cannot do everything at once. I’ve found myself having script/story/brainstorm meetings 4 nights a week, after work. Doesn’t leave much time for my personal projects. Or unimportant things like laundry, exercise, relationships, and hygiene.

KW. Canadian screenwriters in general don't seem to discuss the 'resonant reasons' they choose to pursue projects: resonant meaning that very sensation one's audience is waiting to receive.... Why a given idea, or general subject, or type of conflict drives us to dramatize. Which is strange, because the first thing a producing partner or investor or a ticket-buyer will ask: what's it about? Not plot, not twangy tags, but what's it About. So I'm curious, what do you write About? What themes are you most attracted to, at this stage of your work - and why?

I'm sort of unconsciously magnetized towards stories about loneliness and self-confidence. Not because I’m any more lonely or self-conscious than the next guy. It’s just what I write about. I’d love to write about vengeance and greed and Velcro and lollipops…but my thoughts just don’t generally gravitate towards those subjects (except Velcro – I think about its adhesive powers a lot). I do have notions of writing a real gritty ‘fuck the world’ street thug movie – something along the lines of ‘Belly’, only good.

God knows I don't set out to fill the 'self-conscious awkward loner' quota of my personal story palette, but things just tend to lean that way. It even spreads across genres - I've written comedy, drama, and thrillers, and each one, although distinctly different, orbits around those two central themes. In the Budd protagonist stable there is: A 14 year old girl with no friends, a bumbling henchman who fails at everything because he doesn’t believe in himself, a traveling salesman battling guilt and disease, and an overweight outcast who may or may not want to prop his niece up on the bathroom counter and introduce her to womanhood.

The way it works for me, right or wrong, is that everything begins with a scene. I often come up with something I find funny/poignant/marketable (kidding…sort of) and then try to flush it out and see if there’s enough inherent conflict/action in those characters or stories to be feature material. By fluke or by aligning stars or by whatever cloaks the invisible island on ‘Lost’, these little scenettes seem to trace back to issues of self-confidence. Also, I like comedy. Humor and self-depreciation seem to be two peas in a pod.

KW. About a month ago, you blogged about the experience of writing a new feature screenplay in four days. Was it your idea to try that (ie. was some producer holding a gun to your head, or..)-? For anyone who has missed the entries...

It wasn’t a gun in the traditional sense, but it was pressed against my cheek, loaded and ready to spray…

Sorry about that. My fault entirely. You can stop reading right now if you want to. I’ll understand.

If you’re still with me, the story goes like this: A friend works for a PR company that was on set of a Cdn. production (her first time on set). She’s smoking out back with Director and Producer. Conversation turns to their next project (now I’m sure statements like this are made ALL the time, and being new to the game and overzealous, she may have read too much into it) and Director says he’s looking for a new Cdn script. Producer chips in and says ‘hey, you get one, I’ll make it with you’. She immediately tells them: ‘I have one! The writer is a friend and he’s great and well groomed and aces in the kitchen’ (may or may not be verbatim – I wasn’t there).

Then, she calls me to tell me the good news, tells me to get her a script ASAP. Now, while this was very kind of her, I didn’t have anything in my project slate that would be appropriate for this particular Director. Wasn’t about to give Chopin to 50 Cent (not that I’m one and he’s the other – perhaps a better example is that I’m not going to give a script written in Swahili to Casey Affleck…although this doesn’t help my point, it does amuse me).

So I brief my agent, who thinks that director/producer and li’l old Budd would make a wonderful marriage. Asks me if I have any ideas that would be good for them, gives me a bit of a rundown of what they traditionally look for. I said not really, maybe a half-idea I was toying with. She asked if I could write it. I said sure, it might take a few weeks, I’m really busy with work at the moment, etc. She said, well, try to punch it out by Friday (when they wrapped their production). After I spit warm tea all over her, she said ‘what’s the worst that could happen? You get a half-finished draft of a script? Don’t be scared, etc.’ I had been feeling kind of down about my lack of production over the last few weeks, so I said why not? I was up for the challenge. And so, it began.

KW So walk us through your days, on this mini-marathon. What did you have in-hand, when you started? Did you do an outline? Treatment? Beat Sheet? Where did you work? How would you suggest someone set themselves up for a stint like this? And let's add, kudos - because I know you also recently quit smoking... so, what's your performance enhancer of choice, now?

All I had in-hand was a pipe and a dream…which is untrue, but fun to write.
No, I had a half-baked notion of a small piece of a sort-of idea. I used a story-building document Noel Baker gave us as a template to start from. I didn’t outline really, but I did write down some sequential moments, some key conflicts, and some locations I wanted to use. I knew where I wanted to begin, and just kind of ran from there. I avoided my age-old nemesis: rereading. I didn’t begin each day tweaking the work of the day before – just trudged forward. It would have slowed me down, and anything I could fix during can be fixed after. I don’t put things on the page just for the sake of it, with plans to ‘make it work’ later – I’m very adamant about this. I’ve heard writers say that they often toss in placeholders, things they know they will cut later, etc. That doesn’t work for me. I certainly write lots of unimportant, masturbatory character descriptions and dialogue, but when it’s going down, I’m absolutely certain that I need it. Until I prove myself wrong.

I kept a journal during the writing process, and transcribed most of it on my blog. If you’re interested, here you go: http://bdsa.blogspot.com/2006/04/4-day-feature.html. To be clear and sincere: This IS an opportunistic plug. Who’s foolish enough to pass on a chance to sell themselves?

Performance enhancer of choice? Since I don’t drink coffee, Greens-Plus Chai lattes to fuel the fire, playing a game of basketball to calm the flames, and, on occasion, a recently decriminalized plant that serves as the equivalent of pissing on the firepit to ensure it’s good and out.

KW. Everyone would love to have a working draft of anything in four days. It's not unusual in television, due to force mejeurs. Can you describe what your creative goals for that first draft were? What you hoped to see on the page?

My foremost goal for this draft was to get it all down on the page. To see if I could push myself to complete this task whilst working 9-6. I looked at it like the school bully who said, ‘Betcha can’t climb that tree’. This was me saying ‘oh yeah? Watch this!’ I skinned my knees a few times, got sap on my shorts – but I made it up the tree in four days (much more impressive a timeframe when writing a script than when climbing a tree).

I really just wanted to have something coherent. Holes I expected, but gaping chasms of logic and motivation were to be avoided. I think I got lucky with the story I chose. It kind of wrote itself – or at least plotted itself out – for the majority.

I would have been satisfied if all the characters were motivated, their voices distinct, their interactions somewhat organic. If the plot didn’t weave seamlessly to the end, that was okay. I really wanted to nail down a clear, appropriate tone for the subject matter, which I think I did. Tone for me is HUGE. It dictates every element from dialogue to setting to music to the descriptive words we choose. This is an obvious point but merits mention.

KW. Your blog is clear you were satisfied with the result. Tell us about Chub.

Chub’s the story of the unconventional bond between an obese loner and his niece. It’s set in a rural shithole, home to drunks and scam artists and curmudgeonly seniors (only here, they don’t drive Lincolns). Locations include a trailer park, a flea market, empty fields, and the mansion of the protagonist’s deceased mother.

Here’s the one sheet. [ed. note: I can't figure out how to link to the actual one sheet, so y'all miss out. Sorry. Anyone know how, please let me know.] I’ve attached this purely out of laziness and to avoid actually having to think about how I’d describe the story informally.

KW. You offered the four-day pass to several readers. It is no secret that screenwriters are most often criticized (myself included) for showing work prematurely. But you seemed to get what you were hoping for at this stage from those consulted. Who did you show the draft to, at this early stage? Agent? Producer? Financiers? Other writers? Directors? Editors? Can you tell us what kind of input you were hoping for? And how do you choose your readers? Why is their input important to you? How do you decide what, if any, to use in your next steps?

I chose the following: Three writers, one agent, one film theory/cinephilic friend, and one girlfriend. It was important for me to get unbridled honesty from the writers, the blind support from the girlfriend, the non-industry eyes from the friend, and to see if the script addressed the things I was hoping would entice that director/producer (from the agent). Most importantly, I chose people that know story - and know, even if they don’t know why, that something doesn’t feel right.

Questions I was looking for answers to:
1) Does it make sense? Is there any clarity to this draft?
2) Does anything seem overly convenient, plot wise?
3) Do you get and understand the protagonist?
4) Does the setting and environment feel accurate?
5) Do you like it? Why or why not?

I find that (and I’m sure most writers agree) that while I’m too close to the draft right away to see any specific places to change, I’ve got my hunches on what needs re-working. My protagonist is obese (hence the title). I know why, and how this affects his life – but is it acceptable on the page? Or does it come across like I was just implementing a gimmick without actually incorporating his weight issues into the story? Another example, I had a feeling that daughter-mother relationship needed to be addressed, there was some back story holes that I knew the answers to but weren’t on the page, and the protagonist needed to be more active, and (phew), most of my assumptions were validated by the feedback. There was a specific story beat that no one really understood, and it was because I didn’t write it properly. Once it was explained verbally, it was like ‘Ohhh. Now I get it’.

KW. Your blog is clear that you enjoy the 'infatuation of creation' - that first burst of satisfaction one gets from getting something down. But you are not so hot on rewriting, to wit: "I've heard that being a 'writer' is really being a 're-writer'. This used to terrify me, I think because I had to labor over what to cut, where to tweak, and what to completely overhaul. " To many, this is indeed the essence of the art - be it writing novels, poetry... A typical guild contract, for instance, expects a minimum of two likely page-one drafts. Others only rewrite others' scripts, for a living. The scripts we all often most admire are without coincidence the stuff of legends in terms of rewrite sagas...So what do you think is the root cause of our resistance, on this topic? (Personally, I adore the rewrite - and hate the first dump pass... if I could skip what you seem to enjoy the most, and get to the art of sculpting it, I'd be a much happier camper. So tell it to me from the other side of the Looking Glass ;)) Is it a question of getting more tools, more experience to feel as excited for that next step? Or maybe just needing time away from the rush of the first 'Fade Out'-?

I can re-write someone else’s work, that doesn’t frighten me. Pardon the vulgarity, but pumping out a first draft is like giving birth - but without the placenta and blood and cornucopia of goo and feces every which way. It’s awesome – nothing makes me feel as good. It’s a great rush. Every time I’m done a draft, I feel like Bart Simpson in that episode when Jessica Lovejoy kisses him and he flips up his collar, smiles, and struts down the street. It’s the stepping back from this, flattening the collar, and realizing – shit – there’s SO much more to do here. I’m scared to go in and reorganize scenes, re-tool dialogue, re-structure stores, etc. I’m scared I’ll make it worse, so bad that I can’t ever get back to what was holding it together in draft one. This, despite the fact that I have the original file safely tucked away on my computer. It’s all cerebral, all a mindfuck. Josh vs. Josh.

Having time away to clear your head is supremely important, perhaps the most integral part of the process. I often fall in love with lines of dialogue - the kiss of death, as I like to call it. Putting fashion before function is a slippery slope (just ask Kevin Smith). Ask me to snip a line I like is akin to asking an 8 year old child of the 80’s to cut off his rattail (which I hear are making a comeback, much to my chagrin) But, yes, with the experience of re-writing comes confidence and clarity and blah blah blah. Someone (I think it was an agent) told us at the CFC that your 8th script sells. To me, that means on your 32nd re-write, you’ll finally start to figure things out. ‘START’ being the operative word here.

KW. Finally, where are you at now with Chub? Have you commenced the next rewrite? When do you expect Chub to be circulating as a contender in the production community?

Chub went on hold while I worked on a few other projects, but is racing back to the forefront with a widower’s vengeance. I’ve compiled the feedback with my own story notes, and will be beginning re-write (which will have begun when this is published on your great site). There has been early interest by a production company - who now has the one sheet - but Chub should be finding its place at the bottom of script stacks everywhere by mid July. If you happen to find a draft in the dumpster behind your friendly ProdCo, do me a favor – toss it into the recycling bin. Paper doesn’t grow on trees, you know.

KW. Is there anything regarding this project you hope the other members might help you with?

Good question. I don’t know, really. If you are talking to anybody who asks you what you think of this punk kid Josh or his script Chub, say you like it. Even if you haven’t read it, or haven’t yet met me. I promise you’re not endorsing one of Hitler’s youth or a boring, masturbatory art piece. It’s a good read, on its way to being a darn good read. If you have any suggestions as to who you know that would be interested in this sort of thing, I would love to hear them. Also, if you know of any films that sound comparable, those titles would be great.

KW. Thanks so much for this, Josh. Your blog is a first in insider writing - as far as we know - in Canada; if your work there is any indication, I've no doubt we'll soon be enjoying your work in theatres. Good Luck and let us know when you're ready to celebrate the next pass... we will booze!

Karen, its patio weather. My dance card is wide open come July 1, and I’d love to meet the other members of ink that have, to this point, dodged our liquor-fueled engagements…I promise I won’t bite. I can’t make the same statement for Karen, though. She’s ferocious.

Originally published on ink canada, July 2006 Edition
Reproduced with the permission of Inkling Entertainment Inc.

A new post coming this weekend - I have some fun to report! It's going to be a busy summer...

It's Evolution, Baby

2006-06-12T08:38:00.000-07:00

Summer-summer-summertime. Sing it, Big Willy.

The weather is here (and there, depending on the day – but HERE, regardless), and I now have three months of warm weather to apologize to my loved ones for being such a surly prick in the winter months.

Starting…now.

I have some news. It's news to me at least, and if you're reading this, then I imagine it's of some minute yet genuine interest to you. I’ve found myself staring at one of those increasingly frequent ‘life decisions’, the ones you didn’t know existed when you were 14 and wishing to be grown up. I don’t really know how to describe it. ‘Transition’ is apt, but I’ve found myself unintentionally using ‘Crossroads’ to address it in conversation, although using the word makes me feel like a wrinkly country singer with halitosis (and for those who want to reference Bone Thugs, I can go there too. I roll deep.)

I’ve parted ways with my day job. The time has come for me to try ‘full-time writing’, like any writer should. I’m following the old ‘writer’s write’ adage. The full scoop: At the end of June, I will no longer be working in an office 45 hrs per week. I will be writing full time, available to take meetings and write-off lunches. Doing what I want to do, what I like to do, what I’m good at, what I’m supposed to do. In order to keep above the poverty line, I hope to continue a string of freelance copy work I’ve received recently. That’s the goal – there are a few agencies in the city that I’ve freelanced for and can continue to get assignments from. If I can grow that list, then I can maintain afloat whilst poppin’ out scripts, outlines, bibles, synopses, etc. until one of them development folk point in my direction.

It’s a big decision, but one that came fairly quickly after outlining the pros and cons. Got some good advice – after all, writer’s are in business for themselves, are they not? Why prolong this impending eventuality? It’s not that I’m quitting one job to write, it’s that I’m transitioning into my career, full-time. Investing in my ‘business’, my assets (pieces of paper with ink on them), my future (as blurry as it may seem).

I doubt that this audience needs much convincing, but another piece of evidence I use to back my decision when explaining this choice to my grandparents, who think being open-minded is for hippies and homosexuals (their opinion, not mine): Right now, I’m 24. The time is now. Financial responsibilities are minimal, and I know I won’t go hungry. Could I say no to a regular paycheck and write full-time if I had mouths to feed? Mortgages to pay? I don’t want to be 35 and wish I had given it a go. So, I’ll give it a go. What can go wrong? (Please don’t answer this).

Another great piece of advice: “Making the wrong decision for the right reasons is still the wrong decision”. This, I think, is an excellent adage that I will adopt for many of my future life crises (and, knowing me, there will be many, from ‘which movie to rent’ to ‘does she love me enough to wear this Alf ring I found in my desk drawer’). Staying at work and collecting the paycheck because it’s safe and comfortable and mindless still isn’t the right decision. Thanks, Jon.

So, as of July 1, Josh will be prowling coffee shops around the city, scoping out the most quiet, most comfortable places to write. My roommate’s a musician, so home isn’t an option. Does anyone have any suggestions? I will start by offering up the Second Cup at Bathurst and St. Clair: The upstairs lounge, with three leather armchairs, is always empty and quiet. Where do you write outside your home? Wireless internet is always a plus. There should be a catalogue of these places.

Also beginning July 1, I will be able to contribute much more time to this blog. I plan to revamp the links and spend more time creating an engaging post of procrastination for y’all. You’ll like it. Or at least pretend to when we bump into each other. That’s the least you can do. I’m fragile.

Writerly updates: Finished my 1/2hr. spec, pretty pleased about it. Moving on to my 1hr. original script, draft 2 of Chub. I’ve got some interest from Big ProdCo. regarding 4 of my projects, so I’m on the mission of writing one-sheets for submission. Hope they are well received. Also have another feature I’m hoping to develop with a wicked-funny director, and a webisode series with SA that has me really pumped. More on all of this soon - hurray!

Ahem…I mean…that’s, like, cool.

Guess Who's Back?

2006-05-19T08:19:00.000-07:00

While I'm sure many didn't notice the brief hiatus, a quick explanation. I've spent the last three weeks in one hotel room or another. To quickly break it down:

May 2-13: Working insane hours for day job in a Niagara Falls casino. Worried about the state of society, if this is any indication of what Johnny Citizen does with his time. Fact: There are extra large seats in the casino to compensate for the gargantuan caboose of your typical gambler. For those who can't picture this, imagine a tacky, warped-legged loveseat built for one. And they're situated around the slots by the buffet. Coincidence?

Having no windows or clocks, the casino is like some sort of deranged fantasy land for infants, where bells and whistles and lights and pictures all collaborate in a chaotic medley destined to drive you criminally insane. Yet, it isn't infants who flock to this place, rather low-class carcinogenic chimneys and wealthy walruses looking for a young lass to slip the pink panther to (btw, these girls gather around the tables and the bar around midnight, and while they aren't professional companions, after watching them gyrate on liver-spotted asian men with large chip stacks and doubtfully much else, why split hairs?).

While working with casino staff and catering to casino guests, its painfully obvious that I can't NOT use this in a script. I plan to channel my 'experience' into a feature - more on this after I catch up on the many projects I've been neglecting.

May 14-18: In Arizona for a wedding. HOT doesn't begin to describe it. Having not vacationed in almost two years, I figured I was due to sit by the pool and drink for a few days, so that's what I did. Got a tan, hit happy hour every day, and tried not to think of all of the important life things I was neglecting (which, of course, have hit me like a pimp's backhand now that I'm home).

So, got laundry and writing on the go this long weekend. I hope everyone who's going out of town drives safely and takes in some sun of their own.

Will update again soon, honest...

I was going to give out my own WGC awards, but...

2006-04-25T13:03:00.000-07:00

So, today I’m sporting a vicious hangover courtesy of the Writer’s Guild of Canada. I have always heard that the WGC Award evening is the 'Spring Break' of the Canadian film circuit, and now I can verify that this is in fact so. Only with less sex (I think). Mark it in pen. No, Sharpie.

After being disappointed by the WGC Christmas…ahem, sorry…Non-Denominational Holiday Celebration, my future guild’s reputation as the hard-drinking, wise-cracking, gut-busting party people (NOT the description usually tacked on to writers) is reaffirmed. People got sloppy - and if I'm saying that, then its worth mentioning.

Hosted by the always racy Scott Thompson, the ratio of insider humor to gay jokes was about 1:1. I was impressed that he kept such a careful balance. Also was impressed by the lovely polka-dotted young actress from Degrassi, but completely different reasons. As the remarkably tiny awards were handed out, I couldn’t help but wonder what the heck I’d say if I ever won something. Whatever it is, it would definitely start with ‘Fuck yeah!’

I joined up with 5/8ths of my CFC Writers crew (2 out of town, one conveniently omitted…oops) for a drink beforehand. This was our plan to combat the Zero Factor. For those of you who aren’t familiar, the Zero Factor is when you walk into a party, funeral, or conference and it takes only 18.4 seconds to realize you don’t know ANYONE. And it seems like everyone else has been best friends since diapers. Awkward. You proceed to stare at the door, hoping to find that familiar face. Unfortunately, the only face you recognize is that of your watch - which you then stare at, waiting for the event to begin so you don’t stick out as that guy/girl with no friends.

I was pleasantly surprised to realize that I knew many more people than expected. What a good feeling. I actually felt welcome (until the conversation came around to ‘So, what have you done?’). And, there was no Unproduced-Writers-In-One-Corner action either, so that was good. My people, both Jews and scribes, HATE being put in ghettos.

Met some new people, made some contacts, but most importantly, I had a rip-roaring good time with those I consider friends. (BTW, my ‘Are they a friend or a colleague?’ litmus test is measuring the percentage of the conversation that is work related). The lamb was delicious, I was briefed on the very restrictive ‘detox’ diet of a development exec and tried to keep up with a VERY fast, close-talking screenwriter. And, I got to see the CFC gals Stephanie and Jessica, who I really enjoy. The hangover was worth it. And, I finally had an excuse to buy those neat new Tylenol gelcaps on the commercial. You know, the ones with the ‘rapid-release’ holes. I’m a sucker for holes.

Ahhh. Good times. It was great to see every one of you. Even those I don't like, I enjoyed not liking. I hope I’m there next year. And I hope that Scott Thompson leaves his weird paper mache dildo at home.

A final note: If those horrible pictures of Paul, Patrick, Karen, and I ever surface…I hate fake smiling. That’s why I look weird. And, I was drunk. So there’s that too.

The Result? B+

2006-04-14T11:17:00.000-07:00

I’ve read it twice. The script, tentatively called Chub (any thoughts on this, some dig it, others - like myself - are still not sold) is readable. I’ve verified that with a small group of readers, who were kind enough to give me notes in the face of my obnoxious hounding.

The biggest question I wanted to know, something the future of this script/story hinged on, was whether the story’s interesting to anyone other than me. We’ve all been there: Gotten super-excited about a pitch or an idea, having it come to life in your head, and then making the mistake of sharing it for the first time.

I’m glad to say, the consensus has been positive. I’m told that it is a smooth, entertaining read, and (something that makes me really happy) that it doesn’t read any more first draft-y than something written over a longer period of time.

The foundation is laid, but that’s not to say there aren’t problems. Fairly substantial ones, although I don’t find this daunting. More on this later.

I continually underestimate the familiarity non-writers (and audiences as a whole) have with the concept of ‘story’. Because we as a society are so well versed in story and have come to expect certain things from it, when there are holes/missteps in a script, they seem to stick out as if they were written in 24 point bold. The holes in Chub are minor, but they stem from more significant decisions I made in order to get the draft on paper.

(The following is a mish-mash of notes given to me, as well as some issues I’ve declared troublesome).

“I’m promising myself (in the sake of efficiency – only time will tell whether this was a good decision) not to pay too much attention to ‘traditional structure’ – instead to follow my own story beats”

So, as quoted above, I didn’t spend much time worrying about structure. After reading it, this is painfully obvious. The first act/second act bridge is unsatisfying, largely because the protagonist’s actions aren’t properly motivated. I did follow my own story beats, but in doing so I only skimmed the surface of the conflicts and relationships I’ve set up. The potential, as echoed by my readers, is great, interesting, and emotionally resonating…I just need to get there.

It amazes me how predictable I am. I have a horrible habit, evidenced in all my scripts, of writing in a second act love-interest that turns out to be a catty, one-dimensional vagina and vanishes off the earth just before Act 3. This time around, her name is Marcie. And, as usual, this character gets cut from draft 2. In this case, she’s becoming a ‘he’ (As the Dude says, ‘it will really tie the room together’ - it motivates the actions of other characters, cleans up the backstory…wish I thought of it earlier)

I think that many of the major issues are already solved on my head, and are just not on the page. This makes me feel much more secure than if I was faced with multiple unknowns. There are some things I’m not sure of - but the pieces will fall into place as decisions are made and answers are found. Most of the clarifications fall into the WHY category, which is to say my characters do things and act certain ways, but the driving forces that make them HAVE to do and say and think the way that they do aren’t in this draft.

I’m going to start this weekend on revisions. I have no formal re-writing structure that I adhere to, and always think that I’ve weakened what I had before (I still maintain that Marigold Moon was a better script after draft 2 than it is now, despite hearing the contrary). I hate re-writing, because it always feels forced. With this script, I don’t feel that way. It’s much more organic and natural than I’ve found with other stories. Not sure why this is - but it’s definitely a distinct feeling I have. I can't take credit for the changes I'm about to make - they are actually making themselves as I discuss the script with people. Logic and the inherent story sense I mentioned earlier don’t exist solely within the audience. They exist within the story itself. And that’s another wonderful thing about writing: creating something that takes on a life and direction all its own. And we get to sit back and watch it tell US what to write.

Hope to have draft 2 (and it’ll likely be a fairly significant ‘draft’, rather than a ‘polish’ or a ‘pass’, or whatever cutesy terms we use) done for next weekend… I’m going to the cottage tomorrow with my lady and look forward to writing in the quiet, breathing the fresh air. For me, it’s a much more productive environment than being bunkered down in Second Cup in the dead of winter.

Overall, I’m happy with the draft. There are a lot of positives (which needn’t be mentioned here) and it really provoked dialogue, which would make any writer happy. I’ve heard that being a ‘writer’ is really being a ‘re-writer’. This used to terrify me, I think because I had to labor over what to cut, where to tweak, and what to completely overhaul. With Chub, things seem to be sunnier right out of the gate. Here’s hoping…

The 4-Day Feature

2006-04-07T19:32:00.000-07:00

Not to keep postponing the love-fest…but as things pop up, I want to share. I’ve neglected everything else in my life (Brent/Chris/Scott: I’m sorry –getting to it!) since last Saturday. Other than pausing to meet with Karen, Michael, and Billy (with a welcome Chubb sighting!), the following is a Coles notes version of my past week: Wake up, work. Home quickly to shower, off to Second Cup. Get a green tea latte. Write until it closes. Watch the Daily Show. Rinse and repeat.

Those close to me know that I’ve been super busy – embarrassingly, too busy to explain why. I’ve been vague on the details. I assured you, I’m not trying to shroud myself in mystery.

I’ll explain the reason behind all this madness after, but I wanted to first describe the actual ‘act’ of putting your rambunctious imagination on paper under a less than pregnant deadline without years of writing-under-the-gun experience.

I wrote a feature script in 4 days. From scratch. Assembled a potpourri of ideas and details into 94 pages. I must admit, I’m pretty proud. Despite not actually reading it or knowing if its anything more than words on a page, I’m proud that I did it. (This ties into the Love-Fest that I’m neglecting…more on that in the future). I wrote notes at the end of each day, in order to better figure out my process and to share it with others. Here it is, a day by day breakdown of the script - that currently has three working titles.

Dear Diary:

Day 0 (I don't count this day because I didn't technically write anything):
VA leaves the coffee shop. Great meeting. Suggests strongly (asked me) that I write a feature for the upcoming Friday. With a smile on her face. Take my regular seat amongst the armchair in the back of the Second Cup at St. Clair and Bathurst. Having trouble breathing. What the fuck am I going to do? Do I go through my past outlines and see if I can get something to work? Or do I start fresh? What I did is a combination of both. Went through my detail/idea files, and extracted some pieces I wanted to explore and hoped would be complimentary. But, I won’t know until I try..

Day 1:
Took about an hour to mute the ‘Wow, it’s sunny outside!’ recording looped inside my brain. Began to sketch an outline together. I have a document from Noel Baker – sort of a cheat sheet, made from notes from a famous Hollywood script doctor. As Noel said, it’s to be used not as a template or bible, but as a reference tool. I find it helps to get out of the gates. Put the pieces together, tried (unsuccessfully) to write a traditional outline. Came up with what I thought would be a cool beginning, and wrote it out. Paid attention to setting the stage quickly. Jump right into it. I think I’ve done an ok job of that.

I suffer from the tendency to want to ‘do it all’ on the first go round. I know others who hand me a first draft that (I think) isn’t very good, but I know the reason is because they just focused on the protagonist/structure/tone.
Page Count: 18

Day 2:
Sat down, looked at where I left off. After recently reading John August’s March 27 post, I didn’t re-write myself. It’s a habit I got into with Marigold Moon, and I have not been able to shake it since. I’d begin each new writing day with a polish of everything that’s come before it. I don’t have the luxury of time this week, so I fought the urge and pushed ahead. Forward into nothing. There was nothing in my head, just characters standing in a field, staring at each other.

I skipped ahead to the ending. Laid the groundwork. Having the beginning and end somewhat in place, I tried to follow the organic spine inherent in what I’ve set up. (Side note: I don’t’ think you can teach this. Some people just have good story instinct – they can create drama and conflict without thinking about it. Some are better than others – PG comes to mind) I hope the drama is building – I have a vague sense of my character’s arc to this point. I am trying to ensure each relationship is complex and engaging. As usual, I love my secondary characters. Fun to write. I think I’ve found their voices. And, as usual, I feel that my protagonist is still the weakest character. I have to make sure he is active. I still think the atmosphere, the world of the script, isn’t getting enough attention. I know it in my head; it’s just not on the page. Will work on that later.

On a stylistic note, I can’t wait to think in fragments. Scott does this well. I’m prone to using flowery words in an effort to entertain, although I know the primary goal of screenwriting is to tell the story in as few words as possible. Tomorrow, I’m going to tackle the many beats of the second half of the Act 2. I’m promising myself (in the sake of efficiency – only time will tell whether this was a good decision) not to pay too much attention to ‘traditional structure’ – instead to follow my own story beats. Focus on the Action/Reaction/Action/Reaction chain of events and emotions.
Page Count: 48

Day 3:
Again, began without reading it through. I find it takes me a few minutes longer to actually get into ‘writing mode’, but still saves a few hours of fine-tuning. I’ll do that all at once when I’m done the draft. I referred to my end of day notes from yesterday. Trudged forward. Got through most of the second act. I must admit, I can’t completely tell where each act breaks – will undoubtedly have to polish and clarify later.

Relationships growing on their own. Little holes are filling themselves – a great feeling, fills you with confidence. The protagonist is gaining personality. Must go back once I’m done and make sure it’s consistent. Made small changes to the story (mostly subplot changes), so I went back to the beginning just to plant the seeds. Discovering I’m not a lawyer – will have to do some legal research on restraining orders, custody, and wills. The end is in sight. I’ve got the major scenes outlined. All I have to do is fill them in.
Page Count: 70

Day 4:
DONE. D-O-N-E. Can only be described as ‘pounding it’. I think I may have rushed it. Again, I didn’t read – just trusted the notes I made in my exhausted delirium last night. Gotta ensure everything ties together; that there are no loose ends. What’s weird is that it’s the tightest 1st draft I’ve even done in terms of page count – but the whole time I was writing WAY too much dialogue, thinking to myself that I have to go back and sift through the chunks of unnecessary dialogue. After my polish, I could end up with an 80 page draft. I guess worse things have happened.
Final Page Count: 94

Some questions I have about it (by no means ALL the questions I have, but because some of you will be reading it, I don’t want to plant too many seeds of doubt):
- The story is good. This I believe. But, does it move at a cinematic pace? Or did I write About Schmidt?
- Are the arcs, motivations, conflicts clear and logical?
- Am I hitting the same emotional beat or does it build?

Day 5 (today):
Walked to work with my iPod on shuffle. The first song that came on was U2’s “Beautiful Day’. My own disgustingly cheesy movie moment, but despite the rain, it did feel like a beautiful day.

Let it be said here first – I have not read the script as yet. I cannot yet discuss the quality, largely because I cannot determine it. Writing under the most luxurious circumstances, it’s still awfully difficult for me to distance myself right away and make an unbiased decision. I’m going to read it tonight, as well as send it off to some trusted friends for feedback. If it still needs a bunch of work (read: NOT GOOD), I’ll chalk this all up to a good experience and send off a sample.

An explanation of exactly why I put myself through this intensely scary but ultimately satisfying experience will come (if) the script is good enough to send out. If it’s not, well, then you needn't know anything.

BTW, tried a new green tea ‘chiller’. Fucking revolting. Tastes like someone already drank it, let it mix with their stomach acids, and then spit it into a clear Second Cup (cup) and handed me a straw. The warm one, delicious. The cold? Not so much.

Nervously anxious to read it…jb

The Cheese Stands Alone

2006-03-28T16:52:00.000-08:00

Just a quickie - I’m realising that information and opinions do not need to be stockpiled for an epic post every fortnight.

I went to speak to the 4th year film students at Ryerson today (the school from which I graduated ((btw, if you use parentheses within parentheses, is the general rule to double up?)) )

I have maintained in quarterly contact with one of the more dedicated film professors there, a good man who seems to genuinely believe in each and every annual mob of green elitist cinephiles ejected from a canon into his lap.

I have done this once before, last year, prior to the CFC. I went in alone to talk about the festival circuit (when I’m called in as the expert, beware) as it was the time of year where the students were thinking of circulating their 4th year thesis films. It wasn’t a chat about writing or the industry, per se, but more about how to make the most of your ‘baby’. I hate speaking in public (one of the great lessons from the CFC was how to speak in front of a room without looking like I just came from Bikram yoga), but it went well, in my opinion.

Fast forward to this year. I went in with two of my fellow Ryerson classmates - one a producer, and one a director (who happened to be in my CFC year). The producer graduated from the Centre a year earlier. Nice folks - but thankfully, neither can be classified as comfortable speakers either. Our agenda, walking in as three Ryerson and CFC alumni, was to discuss the film centre. And, in front of a group of 18 disinterested university students (how did YOU act when you had a guest speaker?), we spoke at quasi-considerable length about the benefits of the Centre.

Now, let it be said here: The last thing I was interested in was a propagandistic rah-rah reach-around for the benefit of the CFC. I was hoping to give some candid and potentially insightful views on the state of the Writer's lab as I understand it, and on the direction in which it is going (HINT: a key word there). So, we broke it down. First, the director will talk, then the writer, then the producer, with a Q&A to follow. Frankly, I can't believe I was allowed to go second.

So: The director gave her spiel. Then, up was Budd. A quick overview of the application process, followed by a bit of a day to day, something cheesy about the ‘community’ we built, and finally, I hammered home the importance of not overvaluing the production exercises - you’re there for your features. Fairly concise (unlike this blog, I kept my unnecessary verbosity to a minimum), and passed it on to the producer. I kept most of the specifics for the question period following.

Producer spoke - and more words fell out of him in this 5-min. introduction that I’ve heard from him in the five years I’ve been his acquaintance. A man of few words, to be sure. But anyway, the kids woke up and did their clapping, and then it was Question Time.

Now, quickly: This is the reason I came. While I hate speeches, I do enjoy providing feedback and had every intention of giving them any answer they wanted (not that I really have many, but if they were wondering the over/under on the years before the CFC become the KFC, or Klymkiw Film Centre, I would have said 4.5).

The questions rolled in, and what followed really amazed me. Not ONE of these film-school kids cared about being a writer. None. No questions posed about our fine craft whatsoever. They had many queries about the Directors and Producers lab, and even an Editors question, but that’s it. The closest thing was this: “Can the directors write their own Universal Shorts?”

I cleaned the vomit off my shoes and bit my tongue while the writer-director to my left answered.

On one hand, I wasn’t sure whether to be happy (less competition coming down the pipe) or sad, but ultimately, I chose sad. When I was at Ryerson, I knew that I wanted to be a writer - only because I sucked royally at everything else (except producing - although I’m not sure I did it right). There were lots of wannabe directors in the class (and even more writer/directors, or 'auteurs', as they'll insist you call them), some DP's, and a few of us scribey hopefully and our notebooks of stoned ramblings. But two years later? Zilch in the graduating class.

As I’m typing this, I’m still numb about the fact that none of these kids, with stars in their eyes and Hollywood peeking up just behind Gould St., had any interest in writing. I'll chalk some of it up to the unrealistic naivety that Ryerson gives you about being a working director.

Is being a writer really that bad? I don’t think so. In fact, I know there are many reasons why I wish to write my days away. And I’ll list them in the Love-Fest, coming soon…

Prelude to a Love-Fest

2006-03-15T08:11:00.000-08:00

It’s been so long.

On one hand, I feel guilty. Much like the small plant that my girlfriend donated to my room, I’ve been neglecting this blog. I can only hope that it requires significantly less water, sunlight, pure air, and grooming than does the plant. One thing that it does NOT require, however, is any less attention. In many ways, it’s a living, organic, tangible ‘pet’ – or it would be if people actually posted salutations, comments, even insults. Regardless, fair blog, I am singlehandedly to blame for the lack of recent nurturing. I’m sorry. The plant gets no apology...it knows why.

On the other hand...

The only reason to feel guilty is if I’m under the impression that I’m letting people down. I have a desk job; I know that for many there is a desperate dependence on surfing your favorite sites. It can be grounds to Irish your coffee (not that my contemporaries need an excuse) if a regular fave hasn’t been updated since Feb. 13th (That’s right, Friedman. I only hope you’re not posting because a) you’re too busy writing a great script b) you’re too busy writing a decent script or c) you’re tanning at Pepperdine, knee-deep in sorority girls and grapefruit-flavored Fresca.)

That being said, I don’t know that this blog penetrates the same circus of informative, interesting ego-prose that our favorites (August, Mazin, Friedman, Wordplay, and the other Monkeys) perform in. I don’t know how many people visit the site – but if there’s a way to check this within Blogspot, let a brotha know. I don’t know if people care, one way or the other, save for those who love me and those who hate me.

In any event, fueled by Karen’s insistence that chemically-balanced literates actually waste their cookies on bdsa.blogspot.com, I shall trudge on. Not to mention the handful of semi-professional industry fluff who run into me at parties and muse behind smug lips, ‘So, I hear you have a blog….I’m sure it’s… (pause to sip mohito, ensure anti-establishment pins are securely fastened, resume eye contact)… fun.”

Moving past my guilt/non-guilt, there’s not much to report. I went as a guest of inkcanada (THE Canadian screenwriting group of the future) to see AVENGE BUT ONE OF MY TWO EYES, an honest, emotionally raw (if poorly paced and a half hour too long – but when a director wears too many hats…) Anti-Israeli occupation doc made by an Israeli. As Avi Mograbi spoke to an engaged crowd, I regarded him with the blind sense of authority I reserve only for people with neat accents or handguns. What a commanding speaker – that’s one talent (along with nimble guitar hands) that I wish I had, the ability to engage a room with booming eloquence and grace.

Following the movie, a few of us went out to discuss. This is when all hell broke loose…details are unnecessary, suffice to say it was a rip-roaring good time, I learned Mexican mask wrestling is not only a valid passion but also worth the energy, got boozeltoffed (look it up) with some great new acquaintances, and woke up smelling like I was tied to a mattress and doused by a fire hose gushing JD and Moosehead.

I met with VA again, and we de-briefed one another: I told her who I was in contact with, and she did the same. We agreed (meaning I agreed) that it’s a good time to take a breath on the feature front and focus on some TV specs. Specifically, a half hour comedy spec and a 1hr. drama original spec. There is one fundamental reason for this decision: I want work ASAP. Not tomorrow, but yesterday. I’m patiently growing impatient with 9-5, rush-hour sandwiched on the TTC, the lack of creative contributions, the lack of funds. Before KW tells me I’m a whiny little baby, I know I’ve got it good. I’m aware. I know I don’t yet deserve to rattle on about what is fair and what is not…but writers should write, I keep telling myself. There’s a reason we like to lock ourselves in rooms and conjure up explosions and threesomes and underdog stories – and it’s the same reason we don’t take to working amongst cubicles and status meetings and inter-office acronyms.

I know it takes time – time is fine. Gotta get your face out, meet the producers, directors, agents, broadcasters of the country: The movers and shakers of this frigid cinema brotherhood (sisters welcome - nay, preferred). Follow the chain – it's all about contacts. An example: It was mentioned that there’s a woman with an idea for a mobile short – and a director who is interested. Thing is, she don’t wanna write it. I know: cell-phone shorts aren’t exactly hitting the big time. But it makes sense for me to do it. Why? The person with the idea just happens to be a big-time writer up for positions on some of Canada's biggest TV series. The interested director is an up-and-comer with an excellent reel, and alum of Ryerson (as am I). We’re roughly the same age – so as he grows, (hopefully) I’ll grow. Forming a relationship with these people is the right thing to do…assuming, of course, that we get along. It’s that cardinal rule that I keep getting drilled into my head: Only work with who you like.

An interesting aside: The above rule runs contrary to my father’s cardinal rule: If they’re gonna pay you to write shit jokes on toilet paper, you better write the funniest shit jokes ever scribbled on two-ply.

Seriously, now:

I have recently become rather concerned about the image I’m projecting on this blog. In other words, I’m beginning to think of the children. I’m afraid that I come across as a surly, sarcastic, self-conscious writer…which is no more than 63% of Josh Budd. Based on the suggestion of my far better half (and if you’ve met her, you’ll certainly agree), to come is a post about things that make me happy. Why I choose, like so many others, to jump headfirst down the fifteen-storey waterslide without being certain that there’s actually water at the bottom – the kamikaze dream of the creditless screenwriter. We're all hoping not to hit the rocks. What about his crazy game is actually fun? Basically, all the sugar coated cheeseball (sounds disgusting AND unhealthy) reasons for keeping inspired, focused, and sane.

Stay tuned. Love-fest coming soon. It’s the only time you’ll get this out of me, so enjoy.

Post 10 - Out of Obligation

2006-03-02T07:39:00.000-08:00

There are a set of fundamental rules for running a successful company. Tried and tested do’s and don’ts that lead to an efficient, profitable workplace.

DO provide a comfortable work environment.
DO provide staff with incentives for advancement.

DON’T force your staff into spandex, studded leather, or cutoff denim.

Whoever thought that it was a good idea to take a group that sits at a desk 40+ hours a week, nourished solely from the fruits of a fast food court, and squeeze them into nostalgic, unflattering fashions that were ugly twenty years ago, really dropped the ball on this one. Bearing witness to flesh gasping for freedom, popping and squirting out of any available gap in fabric should be Guantanamo torture, not a social activity. Watching the stockings on an overweight account exec split as she bends over to tie her rental shoes is NOT a way to make co-existing with her on a daily basis any easier. Yeesh.

The actual activity itself, bowling: not bad, wardrobe and aside. I learned two valuable lessons:

1. Work is work, and pleasure is pleasure. While intra-office social gatherings are a great way to bond, I’m always leery of those people that confuse co-workers with lifelong kindred spirits – when your entire social circle works in the same bar/office/brothel as you do, it’s time to think about branching out. Or what you did to turn off all of your old friends.

2. I am not a good bowler. Not even a decent bowler. I can throw the ball hard – but straight? That’s not as simple. I do possess some athletic ability, but as I learned, none is necessary to succeed in the game – excuse me, ‘sport’ - of bowling.

But, enough whining.

The Creators Three have been hard at work on the SELF HELP series. We’ve really been focusing on focusing – ensuring that the world and characters are serving the series, and not trying to pack every little clever gag and reference into the pilot. We’re channeling everything through what we’ve determined to be the three pillars of the series, and it has really helped to streamline the plots. It’s becoming rapidly apparent that writing has every bit as much to do with what you choose to delete as what you choose to write. The term ‘re-write’ is becoming less terrifying over time. There’s more to this, but until the dust settles, I’ll refrain.

I have a friend who’s been in the industry a long time. He was a hotshot at Alliance-Atlantis back in the day, and travels amongst the sultans of Canadian film bureaucracy. An email he sent me from Torino last week went something like this (edited for brevity’s sake):

Josh,
Italy is cool. Watching speed-skating with a dear friend of mine, Big Broadcast Executive. We were kicking around this series idea at dinner. It’s ridiculous, half-baked, and fairly cheesy. And BBE loves it! If you can get a few pages together on this idea soon, I’ll give it to him. HE WANTS TO MAKE IT.

Regards,
Josh’s Friend

A pretty interesting email. I threw up my nose at the idea, but it seemed silly not to give it a chance. We threw a one-page together, and a remarkable thing happened. I actually started to – gasp - sort of dig it. It was a tremendous relief to me. I’ve long been concerned that, if given the opportunity to write someone else’s asinine cliché, I wouldn’t be able to find something within it to hold my interest. Thank god I’ve got low brow tastes.

I’m pretty sure nothing will come out of it, but if at the very least I can meet BBE, it’ll be worth it. That, and keeping my friend happy will hopefully keep surname Budd fresh in his mind if any future opportunities arise. I was surprised to learn that the majority of young writers make excited promises but rarely deliver – and that just doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. They can’t hire me if they don’t know my work, can they?

Well, it’s certainly official. Everyone’s favorite awards farce, the Oscars, is this weekend. That glorious time of year when even the biggest cinemidiot moonlights as a film critic. My favorite is when people discuss at length films they’ve never actually seen. Going on and on about Brokeback Mountian with only People magazine’s review as a reference. There’s nothing more satisfying than hearing two young Bramptonites (sporting those tapered sideburns I despise) on the Go-Train complain about Jack Black’s snub in the best actor category.

Absolutely Not Italian Suburbanite 1: I mean, fuck, guy, the guy’s hilarious - you just gotta take a look at his body of work and…

Absolutely Not Italian Suburbanite 2: For reals, brotha. He was the bomb in that flick where the Fresh Prince is being chased by that crooked buster in a suit…

Forget the Oscars. I’m starting a Gemini pool – the only problem is that no one outside of the industry cares. How many of your friends and family actually tune in to the broadcast of Canada’s cinematic celebration? Be honest - and flipping to it during commercial breaks in “The Biggest Loser” doesn’t count. This is OURS, folks. As a nation we attempt to cling to each and every minute distinction between us and our neighbor, but somehow we’re culturally embarrassed to embrace what little homegrown content we produce.

A sad state of affairs.

What chance to we have to make a mark in this country? How can we feed our children and our expensive drug habits (we’ll be feeding theirs in years to come) without swallowing our artistic goals like an overcooked piece of pork and penning the next I-love-my-best-friend-but-they-love-some-other-jerkface Rom-Com or an Arab-Jew shoot ‘em up buddy flick – which, is years overdue, dare I say.

You know what? I’m gonna get on that. Copyright pending, people. “Jewish Jihad 1: The Temple of BOOM” – coming soon.

(Writer's note: I was all ready to call it 'Hamas-ter of Terror-monies', but I deemed it kinda lame. Good call?)

Gutterballs, Zipping, and Paul Anka

2006-02-20T17:21:00.000-08:00

Most workweeks begin with an extra large green tea and a countdown. Monday, 10am: Only 39 more ‘official’ hours until the Sabbath. This past week, however, started on a much better note.

RINGGGG!

Me: Hello?

VA: Josh?

Me: Uhhhh…. (Checking call display to verify identity of unknown caller)...yeah?

VA: It’s me, your agent. (Note: She does not in fact refer to herself by occupational title, BTW) Good news.

A smile. I paused my online Family Feud (Name something your dog pees on…). 'Good News'. Two words. I’ve been waiting for them. Those two beautiful words, eight exquisite letters were all I needed to hear to set ablaze my office malaise. I picked up the Hewlett Packard HP75 computer monitor and smashed it to the ground a la ZOOLANDER… which is a la 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY. I was halfway into the ‘Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, fuck you…’ routine from HALF BAKED when I realized that I better get more details on this ‘news’ before quitting my job and irreparably offending my colleagues.

Me: (stay calm, Budd…) What kind of good news?

VA: The Spill. You have a treatment done?

Me: I suppose you could call it that.

VA: Well pony up, pamplemousse, because...

Me: (interrupting) Did you just call me a grapefruit?

VA: It sounded cool in my head. Anyway, quiet and listen. InsertNameHere Productions is interested in reading it.

Me: They’re interested?

VA: You surprised?

My mind said ‘Fuck yes’, but I couldn’t let on. I had to lie - couldn’t show her my hand, not yet. Institute poker face.

Me: Surprised? As surprised as a Western traveler in Thailand who’s bangin’ a girl that…

VA: What?

Me: Nevermind.

VA: Right. Send the treatment over to me, I’ll make some notes. She want’s it by EOW. (a day job acronym – there’s one for everything; apparently everyone is too busy talking about the work they’re too tired to do to actually use the English language for communication.)

So, it was early Monday, and I already had a goal for the week: Make THE SPILL good. I sent off what I had mid week for some feeback and received some good notes, some horribly bad (including some from a friend who later admitted to being ‘pretty drunk’ when writing them), then set out to make it readable. I think in the end, at the very least I’ve put together something not totally derivative and somewhat entertaining.

This my first experience with someone asking for something in particular – other than the one-on-ones at the CFC, which I’ve chosen not to count because I think anyone thrust into the awkward situation of being placed in a room with a thirsty starving artist would kindly offer to ‘read’ (in quotations for a reason) a sample of your work. It’s just polite.

Case and point: My 15-yr. old sister recently had the pleasure of meeting Paul Anka (A heartthrob from your youth? Mine too! Total dreamboat...) My sister, while possessing some vocal talent, is about as close to making a living singing as I am to playing in the NBA. Just because I can put the ball in the basket, doesn’t mean I'm automatically qualified for the draft. Anka asked her what she did, and when she responded that she had a band, the man responsible for Michael Buble gave her a business card and offered to give a listen if she sent him a tape. It was a polite gesture and all that – but he kinda had to, didn’t he? Much like the producers visiting the CFC – they would have to be really put off - even borderline allergic – to whomever was in front of them to not offer the requisite courtesy. Actually reading it is another story…

But anyway, I’m cautiously excited. I’m told that our ‘angle’ will be that the project is young and pliable (that’s how I like my women – zing!) and that I’m really into collaborating. Sound dangerous? You betcha. I’ll let you know if anything comes from this – but for now I’m going to wait to hit the draft until I get feedback one way or the other.

In the interim, I plan to outline CHUB, get into Henchman Draft 2, and I also think I’m gonna take a stab at an early teen spec TV script. I hear from every corner that it’s a smart thing to do – that money flows like goat’s blood from the fangs of children’s programmers.

Onward: With last Monday’s exciting news, I could hardly hope for the same this week…or could I? I received an email from a producer with a comedy series in development at Global, saying that Miss May had given her my name (along with the other 7 residents, I’m quite sure) and that they would love to read some of my work. Not enough can be said for the kind efforts made by the established screenwriters I’ve met to help introduce and integrate us youngin’s into the industry. You’re good people, and I promise - knock wood - to one day pay it forward. End obvious yet sincere ass-kissing here. Here’s hoping they find my amusing yet unstructured scripts funny enough to want to meet me.

As an aside, I finally did what so many people have already done and signed up for zip.ca. I then spent the next two hours of my day marking 72 film and TV masterpieces to ‘zip’, whatever that means.

(An honest truth: I’ve been avoiding this whole zip revolution because I thought that the process of receiving movies had something to do with the whole process of ‘zipping’ large files on the computer – a phenomenon I have never been comfortable with. This, along with the whole ‘bit torrent’ mystery, continue to be the two most successful technologies at preventing me from downloading the episodes of Family Guy and Lost that I miss. Apparently, the two zips are completely separate entities and not only do they have nothing to do with one another, but I’m also a huge asshole for thinking so.)

Anyhow, I’ve got about 60 films I’ve never seen as well as a few seasons of TV coming my way sometime or another. I’ll be sure to share anything that I, in my infinite wisdom and good taste, deem worthy of sharing.

Giving myself a softball segue, I’ll leave by sharing my opinion that C.R.A.Z.Y. is one great movie. I watched it at the Spoke Club this weekend with Whitzman. That I’m not cool enough to be watching the film in their dining room never fazed me – that’s how good the movie was. If you haven’t seen it (but I’m sure you have), you’re a bad Canadian.

Whatever you say, I stick by my statement. After all, if I wasn’t from Jamaica, then why would I wear this silly hat?

(A reference to probably the worst movie referenced in this posting. Referencing a reference - I’m SO Po-Mo.)

By next post, I should have already experienced my company bowl-off. That’s right, we’re going bowling. Two things that make this suck exponentially more than regular bowling:

1. There is a theme. 80’s trash. Since the announcement it has expanded to encompass trash of all eras. Truth be told, I know their initial theme was White Trash, but they deemed the phrase ‘irresponsible’ and instead diluted the title while maintaining the elements of White Trashiness that are so inherently funny.

2. Some newly-engaged khaki-and-baby-blue ‘workin’ hard or hardly workin’ gal had the gall to make me ‘Team Spirit Leader’. Talk about poor planning. I’m responsible for ensuring all my teammates show up in costume.

Trust me, I’m getting RIGHT on that.

Please Don't Feed The Writer...He Doesn't Deserve Your Scraps

2006-02-10T10:34:00.000-08:00

Surely I haven’t posted in a while because I’m busy. Surely there’s an epic opus commanding my attention at every waking moment. Surely I’ve been washed away by the torrential ‘day drone’ downpour, left soggy and disoriented on a bank of some metropolitan booze-can.

Surely I haven’t posted in a while because I’m lazy.

It took a horrible brush with death for Josh Friedman to miss a post. All it takes for Josh Budd to skip a week is bad weather, a slight migraine, or a (insert low-brow sitcom/cartoon here) marathon. If you consider this my apology, I’ll consider it accepted. Deal?

What’s new? To draft or not to draft…

I’ve done a couple of revisions of my thriller outline/treatment/whatever, and while I was critical of the outlining process, I’m slowly changing my tune. PT has done it with his latest script, and says he’ll never go back. If THE SPILL ends up decent, I’ll probably never rush to draft again. So far, feedback on the treatment has been pretty positive – aside from some logic problems (I still maintain that with any thriller, the audience is required –and subconsciously takes – faithful leaps in logic), I think that a draft pass will begin this weekend. And by ‘I think’, I mean ‘I really, really hope’. I’ll have you know, it takes a tremendous amount of discipline for me not to jump headfirst into a draft before it’s time, promising myself to fix the structural problems as I come across them. I’m proud of me – the train may be on a new sched at Budd central.

As an aside (read: shameless plug), a teacher friend of mine (www.joinjw.blogspot.com – if you ask nicely, he’ll post nude pictures, and baby, its better than Ezra) has also recently learned the value of the outline as it relates to his students’ essays. Pupils participating in a practical process. PPPP. It’s pathetic what makes me smile - please don't judge.

The harsh reality of being a Canadian scribe hit me this week while putting together pieces for a new story idea I’m working on. It carries all the Canuck requisites – a bit of humor in a heavy drama, characters you wouldn’t let babysit your children, and –gasp- some incestuous undertones. When this hit the page, alarms went off in my brain. Uh oh, spaghetti-oh! I promised myself to stay away from stories like this, but here I am, caught up in something I think is original and interesting, and lo and behold, the I-card pops up. Fucking your sister never seemed so logical. More on this story, which I’ve tentatively titled CHUB, as it comes.

I had that meeting with Super Secret Production company this week. Met with their development dude, which, as I suggested, makes for a better title and business card. It was less about a specific job, and more about a general meet and greet. After all, they can’t hire me if they don’t know me, can they?

For those of you who don’t know me, I humbly state that I consider myself capable of conversing with almost anyone north of the Mason/Dixon, and while I have always dreaded public speaking/pitching, my stay at the CFC gave me oodles more confidence (you have to be confident to use the word ‘oodles’). All this flew out the window when I walked in. I was nervous. Sweating nervous. And for no good reason. Development Dude is a nice guy, greeted me kindly, was casual, talkative, approachable, etc. So why was I nervous? I’m still trying to figure this out. I walked out of the meeting pretty positive that I stunk up the joint, and was angry at Internal Budd for fucking this up for External Budd.

I called my agent to cry, hoping for one of those ‘you’re a great writer Josh, and they’ll see right past your puddles of sweat and poorly placed jokes’ pep talks. Fortunately, when I called Very Accommodating (my agent), she informed me that the meeting went far better than I had thought – DD called her after I left to say so. I was shocked, pleasantly so, but still determined to find the root of my anxiety.

My dad always taught me to give back to those who have helped you. And so, I went to a fundraiser for my favorite post-secondary polytechnic, mostly to support a group of students that worked on a film I made a couple of years back. $5 to the end of the year screenings, packaged under the guise of a ‘festival’, although it bares almost no resemblance to one.

I sat alone in a bar deliberately decorated to look like an ocean vessel (and smelt like one), drinking cheap beer and watching too-cool-for-school Kensington medleys move in mysterious ways (Mom, I AM an individual! Billy and Lisa and Tommy and Kaitlin say so!). Am I the only one who finds hipster dancing identical to Elaine’s infamous limb-flailing shuffle on Seinfeld?

I finally realized what a B.F.A gives a young filmmaker – supreme overconfidence. I dodged this bullet only because I knew I wasn’t any good. Everyone comes out guaranteeing that they are the next Wes/P.T. Anderson. They’re just too cool to tell you. Or you’re not cool enough to hear it, one of the two.

A final note: I’m excited to report that more people are logging on to this online diary each week. This makes me happy. You know what else would make me happy? If you have any comments, criticisms, or new ‘guy walks into a bar’ jokes – POST THEM! I like chatting. Otherwise, I’m going to continue to feel like I’m talking about myself with myself and my head might explode. Don’t be afraid – we’re good people.

Except for you, Link. You’re pure evil. Delicious, savory evil.

Until next week…

Week 3 - I think the CFC stands for 'Could you Fucking Clarify?"

2006-01-27T11:13:00.000-08:00

Or 'Centre For Confusion'.

Another week passed. Got some good news and some bad news.

I always like the bad news first. Better to build yourself back up after disappointment. I’ll just assume everyone else (the three people who read this) feel the same. I know James Frey will take the fact that he's been branded a liar and shove it in his vault behind his zillions of dollars. As they say, any publicity is good publicity...

First, the bad news: The CFC has chosen not to proceed with development of our pilot SELF HELP. To be honest, I’m surprised and confused. I was given every indication short of actual confirmation that we would at least get to the next step. Our producer was sent a very polite letter basically saying that our script was too ambitious (read: expensive) for their $200,000 budget. Further evidence of this: I know one project that they’ve chosen to move forward with centers around 1 character in a room without furniture – a show that (concept/story merits aside, as I’m not fully familiar) is basically Sri Lanka to our India in terms of scope.

The fact is it seems like we were turned down for reasons they told us to ignore. We knew from day one that our show was bigger than the 200K allowed, but they told us not to worry about it, that it ‘was putting the cart before the horse’. Their response was that “we shouldn’t think about production when working out the concept. Don’t tailor the scope to fit the parameters.” Okay, sounds good, but still seemed a little inconsistent. When I told them that we were consolidating scenes to save locations, they told me to stop, that ‘we shouldn’t hold back locations and characters – do what serves the story - it’s the idea that matters.’ Everything production-wise would be dealt with as the development process continues.

The direct advice from the mouth(s) of those making the decisions contradicts their reasons for making their decisions. Apparently, they also went with more reality-based programming, rather than serial or sitcom, which is what SELF HELP is. Because if there’s one thing we have a deficit of in Canada, it’s bad, derivative reality TV. I still refuse to ride the Go Train.

One of the things I find confusing about the entire CFC operation is that their ‘passionate mandate’ to be edgy and take risks seems to sit in a perpetual backseat to their hard-on for being conservative. This mentality is echoed in the SDF program, the FFP, and sadly, throughout Canada.

But, while I’ll admit that I was upset for ten minutes following the news, I’m now officially over it and moving on. You heard it here first. We’re still going to proceed with the re-write on the SELF HELP pilot. Our producer is apparently gung-ho to approach broadcasters on our own, still believes in the merits of the project, and I’m not quite ready to bury SELF HELP as a learning experience just yet. Now we certainly don’t have any parameters to fit into other than those inherent in the story – which is, ultimately, a relief. I’ll keep you posted if there’s anything to post.

And now, for the good news.

Apparently, a producer with a new green-lit show wants to meet with me. This is flattering, despite the fact that I assume they know nothing about me and want to meet solely because I’m a young guy with a low brow sense of humor and relevant facial hair. From what I gather, it would be a really good opportunity both financially and experientially (not that ad-land isn’t, but…). I cannot yet mention the project, and if anything progresses, I’ll certainly report, but I don’t want to put the cart before the horse…despite how well adhering to that cliché worked before.

A final note: I don’t believe in clouds with silver linings. I consider something positive coming from something negative to be two separate occurrences coincidentally linked by chronology. Otherwise, wouldn’t there be an inverse to that adage – that something bad always comes from something good? The fact that the two events occurred within the same week only saves me from writing one completely depressing post.

I received some excellent story notes on THE SPILL outline from some of my writer alums (notice I say some). Those who responded not only with honest and creative criticism but also with excellent solutions and suggestions have really made me proud to be a part of such a supportive group, and I look forward to being able to assist them with any of their projects in the future. I think that those who consistently don’t give notes but send their own projects out and ask for feedback will slowly learn that it’s a two-way street…and you can’t straddle the yellow line forever.

Rejuvenated by the notes and the freedom from the fallout, this weekend is dedicated to THE SPILL and SELF HELP – The former on Saturday, and the latter on Sunday.

Have a great weekend!

Week 2

2006-01-23T16:49:00.000-08:00

While time is a constant and completely predictable rhythm, the direct and undeniable correlation between what you do with it and how fast it seems to move is really amazing.

When you gotta wake up, scramble some eggs, ride the rocket (without getting coughed on), and trudge into an office for five consecutive days, time flies. At first it seems to be exactly the opposite – but when you look back at the week, it is gone in one big hazy cloud of insignificance and bagged lunches.

On Tuesday we had a long and frank story meeting for SELF HELP with our producer, and I felt that it was really productive. I think we finally became honest about the pieces that weren’t working on the page (that we’re convinced it’s fucking funny in our heads is no longer good enough), and the direction our re-write will be facing will ultimately streamline, focus, and tighten the overall pilot (all more or less the same thing - but I like the rhythm of 3’s). Which, I am learning, actually INCREASES the comedy. Go figure. All the smug people who have told this scribe, admittedly addicted to unnecessary complications, that ‘less is more’ will probably sleep a bit better tonight, without knowing why.

Other successes of the week: I followed up with the producers whom I met during the one-on-one sessions at the CFC’s conclusion, and some of them actually a) remember my name and b) seemed to have really meant it when they said they’d like to have a read.
Until now I was absolutely and unequivocally convinced that no one in the film industry had the titles of any of my projects committed to memory. Alas, for the first time this week, I was wrong. So, I sent ‘em what they wanted. More on this as is comes…

This week/weekend, I plan to expand THE SPILL from outline into some sort of ‘treatment’ shape. Not exactly sure how this will pan out, as it’s not the typical process I go through before heading to draft – but I think due to working in a genre that I’m not familiar with, it’s good to get everything mapped as best I can before I set Movie Magic on fire with my snazzy dialogue.

Project number 2 is to draft a beat sheet for a 1hr. dramatic series I’m working on. There are few things as aptly named as a ‘beat sheet’ - because you have to beat yourself over the head to get one that makes sense. It’s just so much more fun to go straight to draft…I mean, who cares about things like logic and structure and conflict…it’s all bikinis and convertibles and Ugg boots, anyway.

I am proud to say that I met up with some of my fellow writer alums (and one director, ‘cause he laughs funny and always smells like proscuitto) for some drinks on Friday night. I am thrilled that we’ve not all become too cool or competitive or self-conscious or self-destructive to get together and share stories and cheap beer. Numbers are bound to whittle as time passes, but I hope the good guys stick around.

A question regarding prioritizing your projects: Is it ‘better’ (for lack of a more precise word) to have 6 decent first drafts, or 3 tight screenplays? I’m talkin’ when you’re just startin’ out and tryin’ to get some fundin’. Does it make more sense to pump out a draft and then move on to another story, to have as many completed screenplays as possible? Or are you better served to work on polishing (let’s say three passes) before moving on? Is there any truth to collecting/compiling drafts and then pursuing someone to actually PAY you to polish it? I’m lookin’ at you, KW, for some answers…

Until the weekend, everyone go and vote. Since you can’t vote for Kobe, do me a favor and don’t make it Harper.

A response from my Liberal MP

2006-01-16T16:54:00.000-08:00

FYI:

To those who are interested, below is a response from my liberal MP regarding her party's plans for Canadian drama. I've emailed the other candidates in my riding, but have recieved no response from them. If anyone else has gotten a response from the Liberals regarding this topic, I'm curious: is it similar? Have we been handed a form response and brushed to the side? I hope not.

DISCLAIMER
If you're not in the entertainment industry, this probably is of no interest to you.

Dear Mr. Budd,

I think that arts and cultural products are an important expression of
Canadian values and make an important contribution to our national identity.
I believe that it is important that we support and encourage the development
of Canadian films and tv programs, and ensure that there is a strong
domestic and international audience to enjoy them.

Canadians are best served by a broadcasting system that offers an ample
supply of high-quality, distinctively Canadian content that enlightens,
entertains and informs citizens. It is this type of programming that brings
us together through common experiences. To achieve this, the Liberal
Government has developed a Canadian content strategy that will:

· Put more emphasis on high-quality Canadian content that reaches wide
audiences in the Francophone or Anglophone markets, and that tells Canadian
stories and reflects Canada in all its diversity;

· Put emphasis on funding Canadian drama, children’s programming,
cultural programming, and documentaries that reaches wide audiences;

· Provide the CBC with specific funding for the provision of high-
impact programming consistent with its public service mandate; and,

· Consider a number of measures to simplify funding in order to
provide greater economic efficiencies and improved priority setting.

Our Government’s funding for the CBC of $60 million in 2005-06 specifically
for the development of high quality programming, is an expression of this
commitment.

In order to ensure efficient and effective practices for monitoring Canadian
content, the Liberal government will focus the mandate of the Canadian Audio-
Visual Certification Office and task it to conduct Canadian content
certification on behalf of federal agencies and programs.

The CRTC is the central body for regulating and overseeing the Canadian
broadcasting industry. The Liberal Government remains confident that the
CRTC has successfully helped the broadcasting system achieve its objectives.
However, in an era of constant change and emerging new challenges, the CRTC
should continuously and systematically review its regulatory policies and
regulations to determine if they are achieving their stated objectives, and
indeed whether those objectives remain valid over time. In this regard, the
Liberal Government will ask the CRTC to prepare annual reports concerning
the steps it has taken to streamline its rules, regulations and decision
making processes. Furthermore, the Liberal Government will explore whether
monetary penalties should be added to the CRTC's toolkit for ensuring
compliance with broadcasting regulations.

I hope this information is helpful to you and that I can count on your
support on January 23rd.
Sincerely,
Carolyn

Work Week 1

2006-01-13T10:56:00.000-08:00

Before I begin: Anyone watch 'Lost' last night? The show, while totally awesome, can't get any more mysterious without me flying down to LA with a couple of guys named Sanchez, knocking on Damon Lindehof's door, and demanding some answers.

NOW:

Upon successful completion of my first week of day worker/night writer status (not to be confused with Night Rider – I’m nowhere near as cool or coifed), I’ve come to two important realizations. And while they may have been prompted by someone far wiser
than myself, I have absolutely no problem taking the credit.

Realization 1: Instead of worrying about how many hours I dedicate to writing, and feeling disappointed if I don’t hit my self-imposed quota, why not focus my energies on tangible, results-based goals? It’s just so much less stress…

Par example: This weekend, I plan to have my low-budget thriller outline completed as well as draft up a bunch of emails I have to send out Monday to producers. This seems much easier to attain and more satisfying than watching the clock and feeling worthless when the words don’t hit the page at an appropriate rate. This type of thinking just seems more healthy and less like the Baywatch movie (that is, set up for inevitable failure).

Realization 2: Corporations work slow. Real sssslllllooooowwwww. I find it unbelievable. I come in on day one, do what I’m told, and then wait for six different people to approve the work before I can take another step forward. It’s mind-boggling how inefficient things are ALLOWED to run. Not only allowed, but applauded when people actually make a decision! I’m sure that both the Canadian film system (or lack thereof) and the US Studio structure work with similar lethargy, so when I do experience their own unique brand of ineptitude, I promise to bitch and moan about it as well. I don’t like to exclude. Reminds me too much of childhood.

But maybe that’s why I enjoy writing so much: Because it’s working alone. Just me and my head (and sometimes my heart). I can work at my own pace and schedule without slowing or speeding to someone else’s.

I’m not knocking co-writing, but it is a slower process. And yes, speed doesn’t always mean good. But it means progress and efficiency, as long as you’re paying attention.

P.S. Still not smoking. I promise. Not even a drag – and it’s still super-simple. I’m at the stage where I can’t stand the smell of smoke as I pass it on the street. My girlfriend (a quitter in her own right) says that this stage is followed by a much more difficult one. I’ll let you know.

P.P.S. I might as well begin the 'Week Ahead Sched'. Up next week is a meeting with the SELF HELP team, and two meetings with two different cowriters: One on a hour long drama series I'm developing, and one on a Canadian comedy (still in early stages). Will report again next week, unless something exciting (my definition of exciting does vary from week to week) occurs.

A busy week in '06!

2006-01-08T13:48:00.000-08:00

Multiple things to report - and for once, all of ‘em are good. No mysterious rashes to rain on my parade this time! Here, in no particular order, is what I'm calling the ‘Yay for Me!’ Triumvirate:

First up: I quit smoking! And, it was really, really easy. Easier than coughing, easier than going to the ATM daily - easier than smoking. Upon a fellow alumni’s advice, I read ‘The Easy Way To Quit Smoking’ (author: Allen Carr), and haven’t really thought about it twice since. But, worry not: Here’s where I promise not to turn into the Preachy Paul many reformed smokers morph into, chewing three packs of Excel a day while pointing fingers. I enjoyed it, and now I look back with fond memories of my Belmont Milds - but, like myself and gin martinis, we’re just better off apart.

Second: Our submission to the CFC’s pilot Pilot Programme went in on Friday. (A bit of back-story: myself and my creative partner from Ryerson teamed up with a CFC alum from a few years back to develop a series called SELF HELP. I, and a handful of others, think it's pretty darn funny. We’d been working on it for about a year when KE introduced the program, so it was a natural fit to submit. That, and we already had the work done.)

The program should really be called a contest, as that more accurately describes the process, but ‘contest’ seems to scare people because no one wants to be known as a loser (although the way some people carry on…). This contest is open only to projects with an attached producer, which we didn’t have prior to the announcement. The CFC sent us a list of folks in mid Dec. that they thought would be a good fit. Now: we’ve always been aware that SELF HELP 's label will be one of those ‘either you get it or you don’t’ type of things, and that broadcasters and producers alike would fall into one of those two categories. Most of the producers on the CFC list, it seems, didn’t get it. We received a bunch of responses that read: ‘Great writing, really funny, love the team, but… we don’t connect to it on a personal level’. One of my co-creators calls this the ‘Canadian version of saying ‘no’’ - the most polite way possible for someone to tell you your show is a half-baked attempt at humor and is destined for stop-motion webisodes. Regardless, we did find a producer who really got it (I think), and seems to really be into working with us. We’re pretty excited about it - sometimes the most unlikely match is the most honest, because nothing is forced or expected. She is the Thelma to our Louise. Apparently option papers are being drawn up now, but more on that as it comes, as well as our series’ status in Pilotsville.

Third: I’ve formally formed a relationship with an agent here in Toronto. I’m a bit shocked at how quickly this came to fruition, but it’s something that will really give me comfort and confidence - in addition to all the other things that go without saying. Because I’ve been leaning toward this agency (While I signed with a particular agent, the delightful lack of competition around their office causes me to refer to the entire agency) for a while, I’ve retained two important pieces of advice on the subject for constant reference:

1. Don’t jump into anything. This is a relationship that (hopefully) lasts for many, many years.
2. On a whole, agents are all the same. They all do the same job, and should all have access to the same people. Therefore, go with your gut: whomever you trust and feel the most comfort with will be a better match out of the gate than someone who, while they can deliver Keira Knightley gift-wrapped on your doorstep, you can’t even mutter their name without your tongue turning green.

These seem to be good rules. Did I follow them? Yes and no. Yes, in that I did research other agents, talked to a few, and looked at what each can do for me. But no, in that I didn’t go much further than that before making my decision.

The reason is not because of haste, impatience, or bias. Ok, maybe a little bias. But frankly, meeting with other agents really showed me some of the things I’m not looking for. All very nice people, with great track records, careers, etc., but you know what? I felt considerably more cared about and safe with one agency - why go against what’s already so pronounced? Because one of SELF HELP’s co-creators is repped by them, I have had an introduction to them and their methods. From day 1, I could see myself there. I’m a casual guy, and they compliment that. There’s a lot of work and dedication necessary to break a new writer, and they are prepared and willing to take those steps - and have done so with great success. And, of all the people I’ve talked to and questions I’ve asked, I’ve not heard a bad story or negative comment regarding their methods or reputation. When I put all this together, it seemed like a no-brainer. Why push away something that would take a good year or so to form (if it ever did) with someone else, if everything else measures up? (By the way, if you disagree, I’d love to hear your reasons why. Seriously.)

BTW, here’s my list of what I was looking for in an agent( and agency):
Responsive
Informative
Have good contacts
Have no secrets
Creative marketing ideas
Persistent
Respectful

Based on this checklist, they fit the bill to a tee.

I’m signing to formal contact this week (I assume). Does anyone have any advice as to what I should be looking for, or paying attention to?

That’s about it. I officially begin my ‘day job’ in ad-land tomorrow. A bit nervous about handling the workload between the 9-5 and my ‘career’ projects I’m writing. I’m trying to work out a schedule in my head. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Monday/Wed: 9-5ish work, then to the gym, then home to write for 1 hr.
Tuesday/Thurs: 9-5ish work, then home to write for 2 hrs.
Friday: 9-5 work, dinner at my parents, then relax.
Saturday: 10-5 write
Sunday 11-5 write

I don’t really work well in the evenings, so weekdays may be hard, but this seems to give me enough time that I’m not going to burn out in two weeks and more importantly (and this is where so many of my plans fail), it seems to be fairly realistic… Until ABC begins its Sunday NBA tripleheaders, when it all turns to shit.

What's bigger: Kong or my guilt?

2006-01-02T11:05:00.000-08:00

So:

There’s one night every year that families actually spend together - out of traditional obligation and the perverse joy of snickering with your siblings as Aunty Gail weeps those annual ‘I hate being alone’ crocodile tears in the corner. Chestnuts roasting, eggnog flowing, and the scaly, liver-spotted hands of your great uncle lingering on your thigh for just a little too long …

Ah, the holidays.

Not to be outdone by Chrismukah (or whatever pathetic hybrid those ‘let’s make sure we don’t offend anyone’ assholes are using), I participated in an age-old tradition of my own - one equally as commercial. I went to see an X-mas eve blockbuster: KONG. (Note: Peter Jackson is campaigning to ensure the word itself is furthermore prohibited from being written without caps - true story, my cousin’s best friend’s neighbour totally heard it from this guy at her gym…)

So, there I was, packed in tight with my Jewish, Asian, and Muslim friends (I tallied heads, and we were the demo for the evening - stay tuned for next year’s holiday blockbuster, “Mordechai Chang’s Koraneriffic Peace-Time Jamboree). We laughed, cried, ate overpriced concessions, and left four hours later slightly groggy, with some type of contracted airborne virus all but a given.

Returning home, I immediately set forth to compile evidence for my “the performances were NOT good, no matter how much you think Jack Black showed his ‘range’ ” argument. Three hours and a half-box of chocolate cookies later, an epiphany. Nothing new, just much more pronounced and exaggerated (like when the friend you always knew was gay comes out of the closet and embraces his new lifestyle):

Guilt. I must be producing products, writing writing writing - NOW.

While I acknowledge that segueing from Kong to my own internal conflict is loose and convenient (at best), this is in fact the true chronology of the situation. There's probably a parallel I can make between the big, imposing man-monkey and the inner beast (of the pen) trying to break out from inside me, but I'm not going to stretch just for the sake of clarity.

Why am I guilty? Not really sure, but I think it has something to do with the whole ‘future is completely uncertain and I’m terrified that ten years from now I’ll be bragging about my glory days at the CFC while refilling coffees at a roadside diner in Orillia’. I feel this overwhelming pressure to produce RIGHT NOW. I am tremendously guilty if I don’t spend all of my day writing. Does this make me a real writer? Or is it just my Jewish guilt popping up to say hello over the holidays? Whatever the answer, the fallout from leaving the CFC is awkward and immediate. Suddenly, all this free time. Nowhere to be? No need to set an alarm. Before you know it, it’s just after noon and you awake to Harold Hussein promising ‘winter wonderland’ - code for nasty fucking snowfall - and you determine it’s really just best to stay in bed. Needless to say, it's remarkably pathetic.

So, how do I respond to this guilt, this pressure? With vicious procrastination, of course. The more I feel like I have to do something, the harder I find it is to actually start. Now, I think there’s a valid argument to make regarding the need to recharge after an intense 5 ½ months of (to borrow a retired term) ‘boot camp’. Another argument that I think holds water is the ‘you can’t force words to the page’ angle. Between the two of these, I’ve managed not to hate myself fully for taking a vacation. I’m curious: If anyone reading this (first off, thank you) has come out of the CFC, did you have this ticking clock in your head the minute you walked out that door?

Postscript: I even miss the Klymkiws. Walking south on Bayview and getting sprayed by sludge as someone’s trophy wife drives past in her BMW. Eating full meals from a vending machine - I enjoyed the challenge of satisfying all the major food groups on four loonies and an apple.

While my shirt's still caught in the door

2005-12-20T20:15:00.000-08:00

One flew East, one flew West, and, five months later, there's:

One Jew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

An introductory bit about the author: He moved from the plastic utopia that is Arizona to attend Ryerson’s Film program (with one ‘m’). It was during that first winter he realised that he makes bad decisions - but, purchasing a parka, a space heater, and a bong -somehow squeaked by. Equally mysterious was his acceptance to the Feature Screenwriting Programme (grr) at the CFC. Although a decade younger than his colleagues, he - armed with way more facial hair and way less talent -grew like a determined weed in the garden of beautiful writing. And now, with a few stacks of paper that could pass as screenplays only if Helen Keller or his grandmother were running Telefilm, he’s thrust into the brave new world…

The day after my ‘graduation’ from the CFC Screenwriter’s Labbe (if they can deface ‘program’, then ‘lab’ had it coming), I awoke in frigid December with only my Norman plaque to keep me warm. Prior to this, Karen and I had discussed the possibility of me chronicling the Short Dramatic Film experience - and I was all set to do so, having put a bunch of time and concentration into a wacky, genre-bending short that I thought was going to be great and so did the - cough - director I was working for (notice I didn’t say ‘working with’). Despite what romantic notions I have about the filmmaking process - and there are many - this time around, his unique brand of ‘collaboration’ felt much more subservient than I expected. And so, needless to say, I was hesitant when a mere 12 hrs. before the submission deadline, he asked to sit down.

Whenever a conversation begins with “I know this sounds selfish, but…”, I tend to tune out the rest of the egotistical exposition so I can fully focus on sucking down my cigarette in three massive drags in order to leave the awkward face-to-face before Jekyll turns to Hyde and I can no longer control the carnage.

Because, underneath his malignant message he’s not a bad guy, I chose NOT to slash his tires, drug his coffee, or call him on his spineless neurotic tendencies, and instead think of it as a good thing - without the pressure and worry of the SDF on my shoulders, I can dedicate myself to more important things: Getting out of the red, progressing my career, and writing, I guess…

And that episode spawned this, the SDF-less chronicles of my year after the CFC.

With the Film Centre doors now shut behind me and my complimentary 1-yr. Spoke Club membership rapidly waning, the next year of my life will surely be interesting. Goals, definitely lofty, but I’m sort of sick of other writers telling me how long it took them to break, detailing the laundry-list of soul-sucking ‘day jobs’ they had to endure before that one episode of Captain Flamingo came their way. I am of the mindset that while it is important to understand what and how those before you got their ‘break’, it is equally imperative to set your own benchmarks and not play down or live up to anyone else’s.

My day job is great: One a’ them hipster downtown ad agencies where everyone has a cool hairstyle, nifty slogan t-shirts, and where watercooler conversations about Ugandan political strife seem to suspiciously mirror the opinions of the latest NOW magazine. That being said, I really hope I don’t have to be there for more than the six month contract I signed… but again, perhaps too lofty?

Step one for me is getting an agent. I’m told they’re all the same, and to go with whom I feel most comfortable. There are a few I wouldn’t trust if I was dangling their newborn child over a balcony, but to be fair, a few I could have thanksgiving dinner with. The exciting part comes from forging that bond that hopefully will last long into my career - until I make it big, divorce my starter wife, and have a long and unsatisfying string of affairs with self-obsessed A-list starlets. I’m looking forward to it.

This is the beginning. As I continue to get doors slammed on me, empty promises of blow and bordellos, and (fingers crossed) some good news, I will share it with you all. And, just because I think it’s funny, you’ll be privy to the intelligent and well-conceived opinions of my family with regards to the screenwriters career and what I should be doing. I’ll leave you with an example: my grandfather told me tonight that I gotta get ‘one of them Harriet Potter things’ on paper because, even though he can’t figure out why the hell people buy them, it’s better than the stuff I write, which clearly he finds much less entertaining than Cops or Lou Dobbs.

Here’s wishing everyone at Ink Canada a happy, healthy, relaxing holidays, and a wonderful new year…even you. You know who you are.

P.S. In the event that anyone actually chooses to waste their time reading my verbose drivel: I'm new to this blogging (until last week I was sure it was an Irish curse word) but will figure it out over the holidays.