Sunday, 8 August 2010
Saturday, 7 August 2010
The Forgotten Cinema
I gave them a lot of good times over the years. I gave them laughs, I gave them tears, I gave them hope. When I first opened my doors, people would wear their best suits, they would save them for the cinema. People would come from all over to see me. They'd sit down in the comfortable chairs with hundreds of their closest friends and I would invite Jimmy Stewart and Ginger Rogers and Katharine Hepburn and many others over to tell them all stories. Reel after reel of wonderful stories, night after night.
I'd like to think I gave them hope, I'd make them dream. I'd take them on a brief encounter, I'd take them on the road to Bali, we'd visit Casablanca, get stories from Philadelphia and sometimes from as near as the shop around the corner.
As the years passed, it became less like an event and more like fun. It was hard to adapt but eventually I did. Popcorn was eaten, girls were kissed and sharks attacked. The new audience was younger, harder to please, and louder - but I loved them and they loved me. We went on a Space Odyssey, had Close Encounters and various other crimes & misdemeanors. Everyone knew me and everyone wanted to spend time with me. I always had a full house in the evenings, that's why I never got lonely and why everyone always had beaming smiles.
And then someone in the blackest suit I've ever seen said "why only show one film when you could show three?" He made plans to chop me up into three. Then he made plans to chop me up into seven. I stayed strong, no way; this is just me, on my own, with my friends.. my friends who have been with me since the beginning.
But then my friends started wanting more. More types of popcorn, more movies, bigger movies, bigger sound. I chased after my friends, trying to do what they wanted. Instead they got in their new cars and flew down the road to meet shiny new friends, who watched films on shiny new screens. Before I knew it, everyone had left me.
The nights were quiet. Occasionally old friends would visit. I tried taking them back to Casablanca, I tried giving them all the new pulp fiction but they didn't come anymore. Nobody wanted me.
And then more men in even darker suits came by and said maybe they would cut me up and reshape me and change who I am. They talked and talked and eventually they left and didn't come back anymore. Nobody came back anymore. I tried and I tried. I did everything I knew how to do -- I gave them funny people and gangsters and beautiful women and aliens, but nobody wanted my stories anymore.
I closed my doors, long before I wanted to. We locked up and bolted down. Nobody came by, nobody asked for me.
And now, some men with big smiling faces and tiny shiny devices they talk into have an idea about turning me into a supermarket or row of housing. I looked around one last time in the hope that someone would remember me. Maybe someone would rescue me. They didn't.
Stories were told, dreams were fed and life was lived, but that was a long, long time ago. The world has changed, as have the people.
I'd like to think I gave them hope, I'd make them dream. I'd take them on a brief encounter, I'd take them on the road to Bali, we'd visit Casablanca, get stories from Philadelphia and sometimes from as near as the shop around the corner.
As the years passed, it became less like an event and more like fun. It was hard to adapt but eventually I did. Popcorn was eaten, girls were kissed and sharks attacked. The new audience was younger, harder to please, and louder - but I loved them and they loved me. We went on a Space Odyssey, had Close Encounters and various other crimes & misdemeanors. Everyone knew me and everyone wanted to spend time with me. I always had a full house in the evenings, that's why I never got lonely and why everyone always had beaming smiles.
And then someone in the blackest suit I've ever seen said "why only show one film when you could show three?" He made plans to chop me up into three. Then he made plans to chop me up into seven. I stayed strong, no way; this is just me, on my own, with my friends.. my friends who have been with me since the beginning.
But then my friends started wanting more. More types of popcorn, more movies, bigger movies, bigger sound. I chased after my friends, trying to do what they wanted. Instead they got in their new cars and flew down the road to meet shiny new friends, who watched films on shiny new screens. Before I knew it, everyone had left me.
The nights were quiet. Occasionally old friends would visit. I tried taking them back to Casablanca, I tried giving them all the new pulp fiction but they didn't come anymore. Nobody wanted me.
And then more men in even darker suits came by and said maybe they would cut me up and reshape me and change who I am. They talked and talked and eventually they left and didn't come back anymore. Nobody came back anymore. I tried and I tried. I did everything I knew how to do -- I gave them funny people and gangsters and beautiful women and aliens, but nobody wanted my stories anymore.
I closed my doors, long before I wanted to. We locked up and bolted down. Nobody came by, nobody asked for me.
And now, some men with big smiling faces and tiny shiny devices they talk into have an idea about turning me into a supermarket or row of housing. I looked around one last time in the hope that someone would remember me. Maybe someone would rescue me. They didn't.
Stories were told, dreams were fed and life was lived, but that was a long, long time ago. The world has changed, as have the people.
The Time I Met Jimmy Stewart
By Scott Michael
So, in my youthful naivete, I embarked on the adventure of meeting him, and I was pretty sure I knew how to do it. I hit up one of those people who used to sit around Sunset Boulevard selling maps to the stars' homes. It was disturbingly easy to find his house, and moments later I was parked in front of his two-story Beverly Hills home. Unbelievable.I realized I'd come unprepared with a picture for him to sign, but in my glove compartment had a novelty postcard with Alfred Hitchcock sporting a cigar in his mouth with a crow sitting at the end of the cigar. Typical of him, right? Perhaps a little strange to hand to Mr. Stewart, but maybe it would make for a conversation piece.
So I marched up his walk and knocked on the front door. Waited. Then the little wooden "security" door opened and a housekeeper peered out at me. I asked if he was there, she said no (she didn't speak much English) but I understood that he would be back soon. I slipped the postcard through the mini door, saying I hoped he could sign it - do you see what I was doing there? I said I'd be back.
Forty minutes later I returned, knocked, and he himself opened the little door this time. I quickly mentioned I was the one who dropped off the postcard, and he said, "Oh, okay, come in" in that familiar drawl. He swung open the door and was already walking toward a small table where my postcard was. I then walked into Jimmy Stewart's house.
I could see straight through the house to the back glass doors and see a lot of green grass beyond. It was one of those older, quite spacious houses in Beverly Hills with ample land. But I didn't notice much more, not with the legend standing in front of me.
Just to recap: I first saw his fairly luminous visage through the small opening when he casually opened the door. I then saw his crooked body casually walk over to the table. He was so matter-of-fact it was disquieting. I was so unprepared for how smooth and casual he was that I mentally kicked myself for not being better prepared with more stimulating conversation.He looked up from the card to ask my name, signed it and handed it to me. All I could think to ask at that point to prolong the encounter was that old hoary standby, "So what advice would you give writers trying to break into the business?"
"Well, what I always tell actors is just work at your craft. You keep doing that and you'll get in." Or something very close to that.
Then I asked if I could use the restroom. I know, it's horrible, I was young and dumb and I thought it would be part of a good story later... I don't know. Anyway, he was gracious, and pointed to a door in the foyer (which we never left) that I hadn't noticed: a small bathroom was inside with nothing anyone would find value in stealing. Obviously I was not the only one who made this pilgrimage and asked the same rude question. He'd had the bathroom installed for folks like me, enabling him to be the eternal gentlemen without unnecessarily disturbing his life. I think I just washed my hands, came out. He was still there, so I thanked him profusely, we shook hands, and he saw me out.
He was frail, but there was no denying his spirit or his familiar charming manner. This was Jimmy Stewart, and he made me feel that my visit that day was okay by him. I'm glad to have the chance to reminisce about it, because it's great remembering such a special person. And of course, he keeps giving, in his immortal films that will live forever.
This article with written by guest Kid In The Front Row writer SCOTT MICHAEL, from LA.
Friday, 6 August 2010
Gender, Male Privilege & The Movies
Women tend to care about issues of gender in film, and the men don't. As men, we get the privilege of doing blog posts with titles like 'The Best Breasts In Hollywood' without really thinking of what we're contributing to, or how we're objectifying women, or how we could be making the most talented smaller breasted/no breasted/three breasted upcoming actress feel completely marginalized. Worse yet, it's incredible to think that we would be talking about breasts at all. After all - when writing about Robert De Niro, I never mention his genitalia.
Having the privilege of being male, it's easy for me to ignore the fact that women don't direct many films. It's even easier for me to cleverly list hundreds of films directed by women to prove that gender inequality is a myth. The hardest thing is to listen, to care, to consider the mere fluke of being born male actually gives me an unearned privilege in this industry.
It's hard for anyone to achieve anything in the movie biz. I know hundreds of men who are struggling to get their 'foot in the door' so to speak, so why should I care that women, also, are struggling to succeed? A fact that us men rarely consider is that nobody will ever compliment us for being the 'first' male to win any kind of directing award. There will never be articles about how many men were lucky enough to be working screenwriters. There will never be a debate about whether or not men can direct action films. When you consider these things, you begin to see the wider problem. It's not that women can't do anything or aren't allowed to do anything-- luckily society has moved forward. But the structure of the film industry, the inner beliefs of most people (men and women) and the way films are marketed all make the problem worse.
I watched Juno today; and whilst many, many people love it and think it was an inspired piece of magic, not many people realize that a lot of it is down to wonderfully talented women. Diablo Cody's razor sharp dialogue and cliche-breaking scenes were proof of her an incredible talent. The characters were something we rarely get to see; a pregnant teenage girl with bundles of intelligence who decides against abortion, a step-Mother who is instantly supportive; who is on the one hand a typical homely woman who loves dogs--- yet who also is fiercely principled and strong.
Character development like this is rare with female roles. Too often, female characters are used to help the male protagonist's story along. It becomes such a default, so ingrained; that young screenwriters unconsciously and consistently write male leads; with women being love interests, or parents, or cute neighbors. That's why it was so refreshing and freeing to see Ellen Page as Juno. She was a woman, but she didn't fall into any stereotype. She was as unique and as interesting a character as you could find-- and she was beautiful and compelling without looking like a model or being made to throw her breasts into a close-up.
The film industry has silently marginalized women in a variety of ways. It has become so normalized that nobody ever seems to notice. It is also very easy for us men to say "the audience don't want loads of Sex & The City's," without seeing how that statement is wrong and prejudice and ignorant on a heap of different levels. As I've said before, there is a missing voice in film, and it's the voice of women.
A problem that occurs when these types of articles are written; is that men get very defensive. We say, 'well actually, there are lots of studio heads who are female,' and 'look, Angelina Jolie just starred in Salt,' but these facts prove the problem, nobody could ever say 'men aren't discriminated against or given less opportunities,' because it would sound ridiculous. This industry is harder for women than for men. We need to start by taking accountability for that. We need to start by being aware of it. That awareness could go a long way.
As men - we can start to look at how we are a part of the problem, and how we can begin to make positive changes. As screenwriters, are the women in our scripts as unique, complex, disturbing, as 'cool' as the male characters? As directors, will we be open to working with a female director of photography? Are we aware that the female make-up artist is an artist and not just someone who throws make-up on a face? As producers, are we aware of the variety of outstanding female directors who have unique talent and vision? As viewers, would we be more interested in seeing more complex, truthful and diverse females on a more consistent basis?
Having the privilege of being male, it's easy for me to ignore the fact that women don't direct many films. It's even easier for me to cleverly list hundreds of films directed by women to prove that gender inequality is a myth. The hardest thing is to listen, to care, to consider the mere fluke of being born male actually gives me an unearned privilege in this industry.
It's hard for anyone to achieve anything in the movie biz. I know hundreds of men who are struggling to get their 'foot in the door' so to speak, so why should I care that women, also, are struggling to succeed? A fact that us men rarely consider is that nobody will ever compliment us for being the 'first' male to win any kind of directing award. There will never be articles about how many men were lucky enough to be working screenwriters. There will never be a debate about whether or not men can direct action films. When you consider these things, you begin to see the wider problem. It's not that women can't do anything or aren't allowed to do anything-- luckily society has moved forward. But the structure of the film industry, the inner beliefs of most people (men and women) and the way films are marketed all make the problem worse.
I watched Juno today; and whilst many, many people love it and think it was an inspired piece of magic, not many people realize that a lot of it is down to wonderfully talented women. Diablo Cody's razor sharp dialogue and cliche-breaking scenes were proof of her an incredible talent. The characters were something we rarely get to see; a pregnant teenage girl with bundles of intelligence who decides against abortion, a step-Mother who is instantly supportive; who is on the one hand a typical homely woman who loves dogs--- yet who also is fiercely principled and strong.
Character development like this is rare with female roles. Too often, female characters are used to help the male protagonist's story along. It becomes such a default, so ingrained; that young screenwriters unconsciously and consistently write male leads; with women being love interests, or parents, or cute neighbors. That's why it was so refreshing and freeing to see Ellen Page as Juno. She was a woman, but she didn't fall into any stereotype. She was as unique and as interesting a character as you could find-- and she was beautiful and compelling without looking like a model or being made to throw her breasts into a close-up.The film industry has silently marginalized women in a variety of ways. It has become so normalized that nobody ever seems to notice. It is also very easy for us men to say "the audience don't want loads of Sex & The City's," without seeing how that statement is wrong and prejudice and ignorant on a heap of different levels. As I've said before, there is a missing voice in film, and it's the voice of women.
A problem that occurs when these types of articles are written; is that men get very defensive. We say, 'well actually, there are lots of studio heads who are female,' and 'look, Angelina Jolie just starred in Salt,' but these facts prove the problem, nobody could ever say 'men aren't discriminated against or given less opportunities,' because it would sound ridiculous. This industry is harder for women than for men. We need to start by taking accountability for that. We need to start by being aware of it. That awareness could go a long way.As men - we can start to look at how we are a part of the problem, and how we can begin to make positive changes. As screenwriters, are the women in our scripts as unique, complex, disturbing, as 'cool' as the male characters? As directors, will we be open to working with a female director of photography? Are we aware that the female make-up artist is an artist and not just someone who throws make-up on a face? As producers, are we aware of the variety of outstanding female directors who have unique talent and vision? As viewers, would we be more interested in seeing more complex, truthful and diverse females on a more consistent basis?
LONDON SCREENWRITERS' FESTIVAL - 29-31 October 2010 - Buy Tickets Here
The London Screenwriters Festival is a brand new festival for screenwriters. Whether you're an experienced writer or just starting out, it promises to be a weekend full of inspiring speakers, innovative workshops and, of course, a great chance to network.
The most exciting speaker is TIM BEVAN, co-chairman and co-founder of Working Title Films, the company behind films such as 'Notting Hill,' 'Green Zone' and 'Frost/Nixon.'
As a rule, I don't recommend things without trying them. The London Screenwriters Festival 2010 is an exception, simply because; it's brand new. I can only go on instinct. With a variety of speakers; including Producers, Hollywood screenwriters, and British TV writers; there's going to be an incredible amount of knowledge, experience, and resources - all under one roof. Not only that, but writing can be lonely; getting out to rare events like these are wonderful opportunities to meet people like you.
Tickets to the event are £299, but if you order through this link and use the password 'frontrow' you will get a £37 discount. The organizers have been kind enough to make this offer to readers of KITFR.
http://www.eventbrite.com/event/730369555/scriptplusaffiliates/5457800027
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