Category: Television

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Box Watch Epilogue

Some of you may have been wondering if you’ve stumbled onto a wannabe-homegrown-Teevee site rather than the wannabe-homegrown-johnaugust.com I aspire to. Well, I could say that sing –

It’s my party
And I’ll cry if I want to
Cry if I want to
Cry if I want to

– but I’m in one of my rare moments of adult-ness so I’ll say this: someone wrote those shows, and a large part of our enjoyment derives from the stories they tell and the characters within. And if the show turns me on, I like to share the love.

(Some of you more sharp-eyed surfers may be confused about my relationship with Medium. That show’s lack of character consistency and surfeit of expository dialogue may set my teeth on edge but I watch it because it tells some wicked cool stories, sometimes with style aplenty.)

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Box Watch Update

Those TV nuggets were, of course, hiding on the VCR.

  • Jimmy McGovern‘s The Street is an excellent example of an involving drama that shows fully-realised individuals and their complex, interconnected relationships with their loved ones and the wider community. Such material may be grist for the soap opera mill, but in the hands of Mr McGovern, his collaborators and an ensemble cast that includes Jane Horrocks, Jim Broadbent and the ever excellent Timothy Spall, we’re in meaty Mike Leigh and Ken Loach territory. It took me a while to warm to it but The Goddess loved it because it’s all about relationships.
  • Equally satisfying was Burn Notice, a spy/P.I. series cut from the same cloth as Eighties classics Stingray and MacGyver, and lined with the cool absurdity of David Niven‘s Casino Royale and the sudden violence of True Lies. It’s got a light touch that’s rare in American television, and enough home-made gadgets, action set-pieces and one-liners to have me grinning by hour’s end.

(Am looking forward to Pushing Daisies after reading the Vidiots‘ review – particularly since its premiere inspired one of them to poetry.)

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Box Watch

It’s pretty quiet on the box at the moment. The last few months were very pleasantly crowded with:

Most of them have finished now (or in the case of Studio 60, I stopped watching). The Goddess and I have tried some new and returning shows, without great success.

  • Despite the presence of Six Feet Under alumnus Rachel Griffiths, Brothers & Sisters tried so hard to stop us from switching channels, we turned the box off completely.
  • Having read somewhere that Hu$tle had shuffled up to the big con in the sky, I was surprised to see it return – only to find that it was sans Adrian Lester. Who cares about a bunch of grifters, no matter how funny (Danny), pretty (Stacey), reliably versatile (Ash) and wizened (Albie) they are? We want the cool black guy back!
  • Saving Grace looked very promising with Holly Hunter in the lead. Unfortunately, for us, yet-another-cop-show with a smart-mouthed, promiscuous, boozin’, law-bendin’, gun-totin, ass-grabbin’ protagonist who happens to be female just doesn’t wash.

 

So far, not so good. Still no sign of my beloved Shield or the satisfyingly dense Wire. And waiting for us on the trusty VCR are the pilots for The Street and Burn Notice. The Law of Averages is on our side.

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I Am Riz

Okay, I’m back. Had a few deadlines to meet this week. Which I did, of course. Exciting, exhausting times. Here’s a quick round up with a decent post to come this weekend.

  • A second review for Five, this time from the Screen Directors Guild of New Zealand, which is now available for rental (the film, not the review) – and if your local doesn’t have it in stock, demand to see some Made in New Zealand.
  • The Writers Guild‘s newfangled online forum is awful quiet. Are we Kiwi screenwriters so reserved?* Or are there enough distractions with TV, DVDs, Playstation/Wii, online gaming, Bebo/Facebook/Myspace and, uh, blogs/blogging?
  • People who spell definately and your rather than definitely and you‘re in correspondence to me will join my growing list of newfound friends asking me to help free up some money.
  • I now have a Data Book listing. I almost feel like I’ve arrived. Except for the nonsensical www.dfmamea.com/http://if.dfmamea.com link.
  • And finally, having prepared a well-I-didn’t-need-your-money-anyway post as a follow-up to my grant application, they approved it. Yes, of course I’m chuffed – especially once the panic attacks subsided – and am beginning to savour the impending adventure.

Toodles.

 

* I keep wanting to start a thread about the winding up of the Signature telemovie initiative: Isn’t it a bit short-sighted to finish up now? Won’t the wheel have to be rebuilt if when the broadcaster change its mind and returns to cheaper reality observational-documentary television-making? … But I’m too chicken.

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A Late Letter to Aaron Sorkin

Dear Mr Sorkin

I’ve been a big fan, Mr Sorkin, for a looong time.

I first noticed your work when Jack and Tom chewed the scenery (and each other) in A Few Good Men. Even though Det. Steve Keller Michael Douglas played The American President, I still enjoyed how you mixed in the love and politics.

And then there was Sports Night. A comedy with no laugh track? A drama that played for just half-an-hour? A show which wasn’t really about sports but about relationships? That used sports as a metaphor for what it meant to be a decent human being in this world? You sly dog, you: I was hooked. You showed me that not only was it possible to be funny and enlightening, you made me a believer in intelligent television – sometimes less was more.

The West Wing did not disappoint. Only you could create a drama about politics without regularly resorting to situations in which the world was saved at the last second. I only got to Season Three unfortunately – life had plans for me and I drifted away. I hear that around Season Four, life had its own plans for you, too.

I’m not afraid to say that I had a flutter when I heard you were returning with Studio 60 on Sunset Strip. So what if Teevee quickly tired of the numerous rants soliloquoys. And you have to admit Ken Levine was pretty funny with his if Aaron Sorkin wrote a show about baseball. I knew without question that I was going to tune in whenever it reached our shores.

The first half-dozen eps were classic Sorkin. I lapped it up. Whatever industry japes and spikes were there went straight over my head. So you wanted to vent – I was cool with that. And maybe your signature back-and-forth dialogue wasn’t so fresh a third time around – I didn’t mind; it was nice to have you back on the box. But then there was the The Harriet Dinner two-parter. Then the 4am Miracle ep. Then The Disaster Show.

Mr Sorkin – all due respect but… WTF?

I’m sorry, Mr Sorkin, but I just… I can’t take any more. I’ve stopped watching. I may never know how Danny and Jordan go with the baby, or if Matt and Harriett’s rollercoaster love will straighten up and fly right, or even if the New Black Guy will get his first sketch aired. I don’t care. I feel insulted. If I wanted will-they-or-won’t-they relationship arcs or idiot-plots-A through to -Z, I’d be watching CSI or Medium. I wanted to enjoy your last outing but it didn’t work out. It wasn’t me, it was you.

Please don’t take this to be a beatdown. I’m a big fan of your work – even if Studio 60 plumbed some depths, it was still superior television. Whatever your next show is, you can count me in, no questions asked.

Yours sincerely

d f mamea

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Point & Click

So many things to post about. So few braincells to spare. Meantime, I give you these wonderful links to enjoy:

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Make It Compelling

After my last spleen-lancing post, I’ve had some imaginary emails and non-existent comments with valid questions like Who the [hell] do you think you are? and Why make do with the length you have?

To answer the first, I get paid to write, thank you. And although the polite and understated New Zealand way of explaining such a position would be to shuffle my shoes and bashfully say that I must be doing something right, the reality is that I’m good at what I do. I’m a professional. I deliver.

So there.

As for the second question, that was actually from some email or comment spam, so no response required.

I may have been a bit harsh with my accusations of lazy storytelling and a fear of audience confusion in my last post. It’s one thing to blame everything on the writer – and very easy: just trawl through a random sample of dissatisfied film reviews – but it’s another to ignore the fact of how fragile a feature film is. Anyone who’s made a film will tell you that everyone involved – every-bloody-one – has a hand in how it turns out. It’s a miracle they get made at all.

But back to the hapless writer and those ever-reliable chestnuts:
– the child/sidekick/damsel who don’t do as they’re told;
– the unnecessary lie; and
– egregiously dumb acts by characters.

I’ll be lazy and hereby categorise them as dumb things. Such dumb things can be avoided by providing a compelling reason so that the dumb thing becomes at least understandable.

Remember how the DAUGHTER got her MOTHER killed? What the hell was the kid doing outside the house? Well, what if…

Once MOTHER left to investigate the noises outside, we spend some time focussing on her DAUGHTER. All alone. So vulnerable.

There’s a LOUD NOISE from the back of the house: it’s the backdoor being busted down by a couple of mobile VENUS HUMANTRAPS! Their tendrils slither across the polished wooden floor, rushing towards the little girl until –

DAUGHTER

(sotto)

The hell with this.

– and she slips out the front door.

The same principle can be applied to the other situations. In the boy-meets-girl situation, what if…

BOY listens to his BEST MATE tell him that –

BEST MATE

– women are stupid. We, as manly men, lie to them to save them face.

Whereupon Boy ignores his friend’s advice and is upfront with GIRL about MEAN BOSS’s request – and the challenge then is to bring about a different yet interesting obstacle to put in the way of Girl and Boy’s embryonic romance.

And finally, what if…

HOT DOG COP and OLD BULL COP admire the form of NAKED WOMAN for a couple of slo-mo seconds as she hoofs it down the street, shrieking all the while.

HOT DOG

What’s she yelling about?

OLD BULL

You weren’t listening either?

HOT DOG

(sheepish)

I was a bit –

OLD BULL

Distracted? Yeah, me too.

HOT DOG

(beat)

I suppose we should call it in.

OLD BULL

(nods)

There was some blood on her.

(off Hot Dog)

Go on. I’ll call for backup while you run her down.

A mental image strikes Hot Dog:

HOT DOG

I... suppose I should.

So:

Knowing why the kid leaves the house won’t save her mother from being beheaded by some plant hybrid but at least no-one’s thinking of throttling the ill-disciplined sprog.

Having a realistic response to patently stupid advice may have generated some work down the line but at least viewers aren’t planning death-threats against the writer.

And replacing blind machismo with some droll humour doesn’t really work here, but at least police-procedural aficionados aren’t up in arms about blatant disregard of common-sensical law enforcement practice.

See? Provide a compelling reason for action – or inaction – and you make that moment yours.

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Awful, Awful, Awful

It’s a four-hour flight to Melbourne and, despite the best efforts of the Purser, the in-flight entertainment wasn’t working so I took the opportunity to finish watching an action thriller Roger Ebert had awarded three stars to.
After about ten minutes, The Goddess, responding to my pained expression, asked, “If it’s so bad, why are you still watching it?”

“I think,” I said slowly, “that it’s good for me.”

“Good for you? It’s making you grumpy.”

She had a point. Sure, I won’t get the two hours (two freaking hours!) back but I’ve been soundly reminded of what I don’t like to see in films, and why I intend to never ever use them in my writing.

1.  Kids who don’t listen

The following exhibit is a prime example of why I hate kids in films.

EXHIBIT 1-A

INT. HOUSE – NIGHT

MOTHER and DAUGHTER peer vainly through the windows.

DAUGHTER

Mommy, I’m scared.

MOTHER

I’m scared too, honeykins.

She snatches up a CRICKET BAT.

MOTHER (CONT’D)

You stay right here. Mommy’ll be right back.

EXT. HOUSE – NIGHT

The Mother creeps out onto the FRONT PORCH, cricket bat at port arms. A RUSTLE to her right beckons her over to an inconspicuous BUSH. She approaches it, hands gripping and re-gripping her bat. Ten yards. Five yards. Two yards. The bush rustles innocently.

DAUGHTER (O.O.S.)

What is it?

MOTHER

Aaagh!

– and she turns to find her Daughter at her side.

MOTHER (CONT’D)

I thought I told you –

The bush rustles – and transforms into a giant VENUS HUMANTRAP, its bulbous head SNAPPING FORWARD and neatly beheading the Mother. The Daughter is sprayed in arterial blood as her mother’s headless corpse drops beside her.

DAUGHTER

Mommy! ... Mommy?

What’d you freakin’ expect, kid? You were freakin’ asked to stay in the house! Why didn’t you bloody listen?!

2.  Stupid plot devices.

I’m all for devices to propel the story. Call me picky, but I’d like those devices to be, oh I dunno, naturalistic… characteristic… even logical.

I think Ebert refers to these as idiot plots – y’know,
–  BOY meets GIRL,
–  Boy asks Girl out on a first date,
–  Boy’s MEAN BOSS asks Boy to entertain a client’s HOT DAUGHTER on the same day of his first date with Girl or lose his job,
–  Boy asks his BEST MATE for advice,
–  Best Mate says If you’re honest with Girl about why you’re breaking your first date, she. Won’t. Understand,
–  Boy tells Girl that he’s got an old college friend in town that he has to entertain…

Puh-lease.

3.   Stupid characters

Stupid characters are the human equivalent of idiot plots.

EXHIBIT 3-A

EXT. APARTMENT BLOCK – DAY

In a tired and dented CRUISER, a HOT DOG COP and OLD BULL COP look at the WARRANT they have to serve.

HOT DOG

This is just beneath me, old timer –

His whiney bitch-ass rant is cut short when the cops observe a STARK NAKED WOMAN run screaming from the apartment block.

NAKED WOMAN

(between shrieks)

He’s trying to kill me! Help me!

Hot Dog is out of the cruiser and heading straight for the APARTMENT ENTRANCE when his elder partner’s shouts make him pause:

OLD BULL

Shouldn’t we wait for backup?

The slap of ceramic on reinforced plastic as Hot Dog draws his GLOCK PISTOL:

HOT DOG

This is all the backup I need, old timer.

How will Hot Dog Cop appear in the next scene? Will he be –
A.   shot to death by assailant/s unknown;
B.   kidnapped then tortured to death at an unspecified location by assailant/s unknown;
C.   buried with full honours while his heavily pregnant FRESH-FACED WIFE weeps pathetically; or
D.   seduced by SORORITY SISTERS who’ve just sent out a new member (remember shrieking Stark Naked Woman?) on an initiation rite/run.

Hoo-ooo.

I feel better now. The bitter taste of that film has begun to fade, and I’ve unloaded onto you, dear reader, for which I’m always grateful.

I suspect however that the above three items are one and the same. Sorry. They reveal a couple of things though: lazy storytelling and a fear of incomprehension. In my next post, I’ll explain how these wonderful chestnuts can be made to work.

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Pots on the Boil

Okay, it’s been all fine and dandy to be as opinionated as Ianthe of Timaru about various media, but what about what I do?

Good question.

  • Five is in the excellent hands of Amit – sliced, diced and packaged for a premiere. I should stop counting that as a pot on the boil now.
  • Earlier in the year I finally finished a first draft of a semi-biographical feature script. The producer/director I did it for is currently having a whack at the next draft. It’s been interesting to work through the inevitable tension in the creative process where the producer/director wants authenticity while I’m trying to argue for dramatic impact.
  • My long awaited 2007 spec script has really only had its outline tweaked – it even had a one-page pitch done – but I haven’t started writing it yet. I’d like to blame the non-start on some of the following projects – but I’d be lying.
  • I was asked to write a low budget thriller a while back. After duly speccing an outline, I mentioned the word “contract” and scared the producer away. Ah well. Still, there’s something about the outline that’s really hooked me: I approached the project from an oblique angle to try and be ‘fresh’ as well as make it interesting to write. I’ve made it my 2007 spec* – and, yes, I’ll give the producer first dibs on it when it’s finished.
  • I met with another producer recently about some development work on an half-hour series. I did some work for him last year that was great fun – not only did I get paid, I was writing cool shit. I’ll give with some details.
  • The T.V. concept got cleaned up and sent out… and has so far flatlined. Oh well. At least it’s a good reminder to not pin so much hope on just one project. I can’t help it, but.
  • The T.V. speccing got me going a bit – well, it was avoiding work on one of the above scripts – so I’ve got a couple of ideas to inflict on interested parties. I’m well aware of the odds against but at the very least I’ll be making some noise.

So that’s… wow. Seven. It sounds so… productive.

I think I might make this – like my sometimes-monthly Point & Click fillers posts – a sometimes-quarterly update on what’s cookin’. Because I know you’re just busting to read it here first – and I know your need because I’m psychotic canny.

 

*    And what will this mean for my other ‘long-awaited’ 2007 spec? Good question.

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