Scriptwriter
Sst. There will be a screening of To’ona’i at the Academy Cinemas in Auckland on Saturday 31 October at 12:30pm.
It’s a cast, crew, friends, family and supporters screening, and being the inclusive kind of guy that I am, you’re welcome to come for a gander and maybe a natter.
This month, on Point & Click:
It must be a decade since I first read those words.
And now I’ve seen the trailer. The Boy watched it with me – he was a little bemused by my admittedly reverent whisper of Awesome. Mr Ebert has seen a fifteen minute preview (twice, the lucky sod) and has reserved judgement on the finished product.
That’s okay – I’m a little jealous of their innocence.
The Avatar scriptment has been a treasured D F Mamea Script Library item for the past ten years, something I often referred to in my early writing career as a kind of ‘how-to’ bible.
Yes, the finished product will be whatever it will be. But until then, anticipation and expectations are high.
Postscript: Late in 2008 Motorbike Steve asked what I was looking forward to in the new year. I shrugged and mumbled that maybe there was Watchmen but otherwise… nah. My outlook didn’t really change until around last month. Besides, obviously, Avatar, there’s Michael Mann‘s Public Enemies I want to find time for, and Pixar’s Up next month. ‘S nice.
The Boy went to see Transformers 2 last week and he enjoyed it immensely. Although I was urged to accompany him, I respectfully declined. Afterwards he said he – and I quote directly – “felt drowsy in the middle part”. That from a boy who will watch static infomercials for days hours on end if given the chance.
I think I’ll wait until it’s on DVD for a buck a week before I sneak a look (like I did the first one).
Meantime, this made me laugh out loud:
Fedora-tip: Roger Ebert.
(Or Feedback – Another Thought.)
As an audience member, the film or television series or theatre piece that I derive the most pleasure from is the one where I have to work hard at keeping up with the story, busily making connections not spelt out, and putting the pieces together. It makes me feel smart.
Imagined ego-stroking aside, I like the experience where I’m not a passive observer of events, where I have to read more into the nuances and subtext of what I’m seeing and hearing. I don’t have to be sitting on the shoulder of the protagonist throughout. It’s like I’m… physically in the middle of the action wherever it takes – still invisible, still passive – and I have only the information available to the characters around me, and… discovering the story as it unfolds.
I feel… involved.
It’s a mean trick to do that.
So I’ve got this wee film that’s had a bunch of test screenings from rough cut to a graded and mixed cut, and the feedback and the comments I’ve received have been pretty consistent while I, for my part, have been just a leetle myopic in taking it all on board. After each screening, I’ve swung tended one way or the other in trying to appease imagined audiences minimise narrative confusion.
Have I done too much?
Or not enough?
I don’t know. I’ve written the dialogue with subtext and whatever it is that’s described as it’s what’s not said. Its structure is classic – the finished product may require some concentration but the execution is consistent. Amit says that I’ve hit the emotional beats. James is sneaking in all sorts of filters, having quickly established how technically and aesthetically blind I am.
And thanks to the generosity and honesty of the test audiences, I think I’ve done all I can to tell the story the way I want to. I have to get over myself. How the audience watches the finished product is out of my hands.
Okay this isn’t post-dated.
I’ve got fifteen minutes spare.
How quickly can I cut and paste and make sense?
Time’s up already. Must be a slow linker.
Seeking a change of pace from genial lashings of River Cottage, I suggested to The Goddess a thriller, State of Play, even going so far as to disclose its probable political content. Such is Her love for me that She said She’d try the first episode. (This is Her code for And if it’s boringly political, you are on your own.)
I vaguely remembered the excited reviews of Paul Abbott‘s series a few years back. I’d read them too late – they’d already screened the first couple of eps – but to be honest, at the time, I would’ve been too entranced in The Shield and The Wire to consider anything else seriously.
After the first ep, I found myself hunched forward, bunched fists at my sides. After the second ep, I looked wild-eyed at The Goddess: I’m all wound up and there weren’t even any bodies! After the third ep, a Voice beside me said, despite the lateness of the hour, Can we watch the next episode?
You get the picture.
I’m glad I didn’t try jumping in mid-season way back when: the pace is unforgiving. Never was there anything as crass as a character reminding another of what they’d discovered in an earlier episode. There were no genre white lies of Shh, everything’ll be okay to hold on to. I was never given the opportunity – the breathing space, even – to think, Okay, this is the bit where they do something stupid but a handy deus ex machina will save the day – because that shit just didn’t happen. That’s how freaking good the writing is.
We lapped it up.
And I am so not going to the big-screen adaptation.
Is it the season or am I just being mean?
(Fedora-tip: The Big Picture.)
Just over a year ago, I reeled from a Pasifika playwrights forum.
This year, I networked at it.
Yes: I hate networking. It feels false:
INT. A GATHERING – WHENEVER
Our WRITER walks up to a STRANGER --
WRITER
(extends hand)
Hi I’m D F Mamea.
STRANGER
Hi.
Beat.
WRITER
(drops hand)
And your name is?
STRANGER
Dave.
WRITER
(shit-eating grin)
Well, hi Dave. What do you do?
(I really should just let go of such exchanges – it’s just -, it’s not often that I want to smash someone in the face [half an hour later because it didn’t register with me at the time].)
What I meant to illustrate as false was something like this:
INT. A GATHERING – WHENEVER
Our WRITER approaches a STRANGER --
WRITER
(extends his hand)
Hi, my name’s D F Mamea.
(voice-over)
Should I’ve said I was a writer? Or is that too forward? Too desperate?
They shake hands.
STRANGER
Steve Ranger. Pleasetameetcha.
(voice-over)
Oh please god no, not another desperate writer.
What was different this time around was that I knew more of the faces. Familiarity breeds confidence.
Now for some rampant name-dropping:
It wasn’t all about the laying on of hands – forum attendees were treated to works in progress:
(A first draft of this post had one-word adjectives for each of the above. I’ve changed my mind, obviously: you can stew in anticipation.)
My plan to be in the right place at the right time has yet to bear fruit. But seeds have been sown. The competition has been reconnoitred and noted.
I am patient.
Mr Hilton at The Editing Room has just put up an abridged script for Watchmen.
And this excerpt is for the benefit of The Goddess who wondered what the heck the story was with Bubastis the wondercat:
MATTHEW GOODE
Would you like me to explain why as I stroke my tigercatrabbit?
PATRICK WILSON
Er, actually, yeah, are you going to explain that thing at all?
MATTHEW GOODE
Who, Mr. Meowkins? He’s my pet.
PATRICK WILSON
Right. I figured that.
This link/post is dedicated to Mr Molloy.
