Author: d f mamea

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Boo

Returning from the screening last Saturday afternoon (by way of the hardware store and a food hall-lunch), we noticed some mini-ghouls out and about in the late afternoon.

Bloody Halloween, I groaned, and The Goddess patted my knee.

I hate trick-or-treaters.

There’s no childhood trauma or such for this hatred. Halloween figured in my childhood only so far as school lessons suddenly turning to jack o’ lanterns and how once upon a time ’twas hallowed evening. I got my scares aplenty with the telly’s Sunday Horrors, thank you very much.

Snapping back to the present – here’s a typical exchange with trick-or-treaters in our fair land:

INT./EXT. DOOR – HALLOWED EVENING – FLASHBACK

WRITER opens the DOOR to be greeted by --

MINI-GHOUL + FAIRY-BARBIE

(chorus)

Trick or treat!

Writer brings out a HAMPER and doles out --

WRITER

An apple for you, young sir, and an apple for you, young lady.

-- and MINI GHOUL and FAIRY-BARBIE look with some shock as TWO APPLES are placed in their SACKS OF SWEETS.

MINI-GHOUL

... Thanks.

Fairy-Barbie says nothing.

WRITER

You’re BOTH welcome.

He closes the door as --

FAIRY-BARBIE (O.S.)

An APPLE?

So. After a few years of this kind of exchange – and uneaten apples prominently left at the edge of our property – this year I drafted a sign for those ungrateful toads to stay away.

EXT. GARDEN – HALLOWED EVENING 2009

THE GODDESS admires Her garden, CHICKENS clucking about Her legs.

WRITER shows Her a HAND-MADE SIGN --

GODDESS

No.

WRITER

But –

GODDESS

No.

Writer looks at his sign: “FUCK OFF”.

GODDESS

(off Writer)

It’s not in the spirit of Halloween.

WRITER

... Okay. How about –

He scribbles on the sign and shows it to Her. She deadpans him a look.

WRITER

It’s in the spirit.

GODDESS

No.

ANGLE ON amended sign: “FUCK OFF and have a Happy Halloween!”

EXT. GARDEN – MINUTES LATER

Writer approaches The Goddess, sign extended, beaming proudly.

GODDESS

(reading)

“Happy Halloween – thank you for your visit but we do not do trick or treat.”

(looks up)

Much better.

WRITER

(bows)

Thank you.

GODDESS

May I suggest one tiny thing?

WRITER

Of course.

She points to the original “FUCK OFF” which is now ringed with the new wording.

GODDESS

How about putting your excellent new wording on a new sign.

WRITER

You’re no fun.

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Execution Dependent

Lately I’ve been comparing – fairly or unfairly, it’s unavoidable – some shows screening on the Fortress Mamea goggle box.

EXHIBIT A

INT. HOSPITAL – DAY

DOCTOR SLAUGHTER smiles as he examines a NERVOUS PATIENT.

SLAUGHTER

I’m going to listen to your heart beat.

He does so with his STETHOSCOPE.

SLAUGHTER

I’m going to check your pupils.

He does so with his PENLIGHT.

EXHIBIT B

EXT. DESERT, IRAQ – DAY

Mercenary NICK SWORD scans a DISTANT VILLAGE through his BINOCULARS.

He makes notes with PENCIL and NOTEPAD. We notice a slight tremor in his writing hand.

WOMAN’S VOICE (O.S.)

What’s happening?

Sword puts away pencil and pad as he turns to TAMSIN SMITH, his employer, peering over his shoulder. He hands her the binoculars, trembling hand stuffed into a pocket.

SWORD

Nothing so far.

(beat)

‘S all good.

What’s that? Why am I comparing oranges with bananas?

Because good writing is what makes the every-day interesting.

EXHIBIT A – REVISED

INT. HOSPITAL – DAY

DOCTOR SLAUGHTER examines a NERVOUS PATIENT. He breathes on his STETHOSCOPE.

SLAUGHTER

This won’t take long.

He listens to the patient’s chest.

SLAUGHTER

(listening)

Mm-hm. ... Thank you.

He pulls out his PENLIGHT.

SLAUGHTER

(smiles)

You know the drill.

The patient gives the smallest smile.

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Point & Click

Some rather thin screenwriting-related links this month.

  • Heee.



    (Fedora-tip: Alex Epstein.)

  • I’m a Joss Whedon fan from his Buffy days (Dollhouse has yet to reach these shores) but this Cracked list of 5 Reasons It Sucks Being a Joss Whedon Fan is both funny and spot on, with my fave being:

    … There is only one real lesson in Whedonland, and it’s that loving cool people is dangerous because someone’s probably gonna shove a flaming rock into their skull.

    Yep: that’s how I got hooked in Season 2.

    (Fedora-tip: Lucy Vee.)

  • And Roger Ebert‘s post about performance artist Chris Burden has really gotten under my skin.

… Hey, this is my 250th post. Woo-hoo me.

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Pick Up

John August posted recently about the ubiquity of lost cellphone signals in movies. It does happen – constantly in just-remote-enough Fortress Mamea – but its use in film and television is beginning to grate as much as the ol’ I have vital information to impart but the phone is not safe so let us rendezvous in a dark alley where I will be killed just before we meet device.

Yes, the real world in which we live is imperfect. The world which your characters inhabit is just as imperfect, but only enough for the audience to recognise it as such. Adapt accordingly.

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Box Watch: The Cult

Having ethnically disparaged The Cult, sight unseen, along strictly racial lines*, the inhabitants of Fortress Mamea have watched the first two eps.

For me, the greatest sin of any homegrown show is try-hard self-consciousness – and thankfully, there’s none here whatsoever**. It looks and sounds like a real TV show, rather than something we should watch out of patriotism. The direction and cinematography are uniformly flashy. The characters are clearly delineated. The plotting is pacey and the dialogue largely on point with only occasional excursions into exposition.

But I’m not feeling for any of the characters. Why am I not caring for:

  • a father who wants his sons back at any cost (and, so far, without much thought)?
  • a bitchy sister who keeps needling her brother’s wife-with-a-shameful-history?
  • or the brothers inside the compound, in too deep and with seemingly nowhere to run?

And what’s the deal with the mercenary hired by the outside group? If he’s really an ex-SAS soldier, he’s being awfully reticent and docile. A character with a skill set like his is a game changer: the rules of engagement may differ (it’s not a warzone so killing people isn’t a good idea) but the game is the same – if your objective is to get certain people out of a compound, then you do everything and anything to achieve that objective. Instead, he’s rolled on and off screen like a prop, as and when the story dictates.

Ep three screens tomorrow, and The Goddess has given me the hard word: If this doesn’t get any better, you’re on your own.

Oh dear.

POSTSCRIPT: OMFG – The Cult‘s section on the TVNZ website has a writers blog where creator Peter Cox shows some of the development process that went into the show.

* When I posted that, I couldn’t help flashing on this joker from the underrated Undercover Brother.

** No surprise, really: creator Peter Cox was behind both the near-perfect The Insiders Guide to Happiness and the excellent but abysmally scheduled The Pretender.

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Ask

I once met with a couple of young writers and an interested party who may or may not’ve been their producer. I’d read their script – it had potential, but needed a lot of work. The writers had been through a couple of consultants already and were a little worse for wear.

INT. CAFE – DAY

Our WRITER sits with a talented writing pair, SWARTHY WRITER and PORCELAIN WRITER, as well as the pair’s friend, who we shall call PHANTOM PRODUCER.

SWARTHY

– and so after three months of waiting on her, and buying her drinks –

WRITER

We still talking about your previous consultant?

Porcelain’s giggle is cut short by a look from Swarthy.

SWARTHY

I’m like, I don’t need this. I don’t need the aggravation. It was the same for you wasn’t it Porcelain?

PORCELAIN

(nods)

Absolutely.

Swarthy nods: See? See?

Writer looks at Phantom and shrugs:

WRITER

Okay, it wasn’t the best experience –

SWARTHY WRITER

At all.

WRITER

– and I can tell you now that it won’t be your worst. Times like that can be character building –

SWARTHY WRITER

Character building?

(points to Writer for Porcelain’s benefit)

Character building? If I hadn’t renounced violence three years, two months, and twenty-five days earlier, I would have taken the first consultant aside and FUCKED HIM UP!

A sudden, awkward silence.

SWARTHY WRITER

But I didn’t.

(to Porcelain)

Did I?

PORCELAIN WRITER

Nope.

SWARTHY WRITER

No. I did not.

He looks at Phantom, something passing between them, unreadable to our Writer. Phantom looks at the palm of her hand.

PHANTOM PRODUCER

(reading off her palm)

So ah, where are you guys at with your project?

SWARTHY WRITER

We’re looking for a new consultant.

WRITER

You should.

SWARTHY WRITER

And we’re thinking that if Writer here is interested –

WRITER

I could be interested.

SWARTHY WRITER

So you’re interested –

PORCELAIN

That’s brilliant –

Both Swarthy and Porcelain exhale with relief, grinning at each other until –

WRITER

I said I COULD be interested.

SWARTHY

What the fuck does that mean?

Our Writer takes a sip from his HOT CHOCOLATE – it’s no longer hot enough to burn skin but the BOWL is a convenient shape should it have to be forcefully applied to a skull.

WRITER

I said I could be interested.

The other three stare at him.

WRITER

(to Porcelain)

Do you want a new consultant?

PORCELAIN

Yes.

SWARTHY

We want you! What’s the problem?

WRITER

You need to ask.

SWARTHY

To ask -?

Looks at Phantom Producer: WTF?

Writer waits them out. The silence stretches.

PORCELAIN

(off Swarthy)

Will you be our consultant?

WRITER

Sure. You only needed to ask.

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Hnf

INT. FORTRESS MAMEA – NIGHT

WRITER

(on phone)

How’s your script going?

NEOPHYTE

(V.O.; filter)

Finished.

WRITER

That’s great.

NEOPHYTE

Yep. I’ve got about twenty pages of character descriptions – I swear you’ll read the character bios and either fall in love or break down crying – and I’ve got the soundtrack, too. It’s a playlist on my iPod –

WRITER

What about the script?

NEOPHYTE

It’s all in my head –

(off Writer’s silence)

Ah-hah! I know what you’re thinking. OF COURSE I’ve got a script –

WRITER

Phew –

NEOPHYTE

Yeah, it’s sixty pages long. It’s got EVERYTHING. Actually it’s more of a treatment than a script ’cause there’s no dialogue. But dialogue’s easy.

WRITER

Easy –

NEOPHYTE

Yeah. When the time comes, I’ll just go to the scene and then pffft – BAM! That’s how easy dialogue is.

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Son of Hair

Hey, it was the late Eighties: Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon (1987).
Hey, it was the late Eighties: Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon (1987).

Why is it that when Mel has a freaking mullet, he’s manly and… whatever masculine thingie, but on me, it looks like I’ve an amorous armadillo on my scalp?

...
...

Riddle me that, goddammit.

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Point & Click

This month, on Point & Click:

  • Local producer Matthew Horrocks has some cogent articles on the state of New Zild film at his Reservoir Films. Go – go read them now.

  • The Incomparable Christopher Rywalt reviews Sex Decoy: Love Stings, a reality show about… about…. I can’t. But here’s an extract:

    … when a ridiculously gorgeous woman — or even a skanky stripper — comes on to you out of nowhere, your choices explaining what’s going on are a) you’ve inexplicably, suddenly, and surprisingly become vastly more attractive to the opposite sex or b) she’s an alien/vampire/killer robot who’s going to eat you before you come.

  • Screenwriter Josh Olson (A History of Violence) explains why he will not read your fucking script. ‘S nothing personal. And totally understandable.
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