Friday, 3 February 2012

Creativity in the Digital Age: The Currency Of Expertise

The film industry used to be very exclusive. It was run by a select few. They still want it to remain this way, but things are changing. The Internet came along, and DV tape, and cracked software, and DSLR cameras, and Twitter, and streaming, and a million different things that put the tools into the hands of the people.

The problem with enabling everyone to make films, is that everyone makes films! We get flooded with material, and most of it is terrible.

A big problem with art in this era is how people perceive success. I talk to teenagers who want to be Hip Hop artists, they talk about driving big cars and 'making it to the top' when they 'get discovered'. They think It's about the attitude and the bling. They think they'll get discovered and someone will pay for everything and make them rich and famous.

"There are potentially more talented writers and directors than I working in shoe stores and Burger Kings across the nation; the difference is I was willing to put in the nine years of effort and they weren't."
-Frank Darabont

If you have talent, you're lucky. If you think it entitles you to anything, you're crazy. I know talented writers whose screenplays are terrible. I know very good actors whose performances don't quite work. The thing you need to realise is that being an artist takes time, it's about longevity, business-wise and talent-wise.

Every success or failure helps prepare you. Those who've been at it a long time naturally build a wisdom, a gravitas. We improve

That being said, it's not just enough to be in the game. You have to be passionate and you have to be pushing yourself. Expertise in filmmaking comes when you are consistently producing work, watching movies, and striving to improve. When you look back at the early work of your biggest influences, you can see them working towards becoming who they'd end up being. If you look at Tom Hanks in 'Bosom Buddies,' and then in 'Splash,' and 'Big,' and then on to 'Philadelphia' and after that look at 'Saving Private Ryan,' you see the growth of a performer. Yet, it didn't start with Bosom Buddies. It started when he was much younger, studying and working in the theatre. He found something he loved, and he worked at it. It took years,  as it always does.


Anyone can pick up a camera and make a bad movie. It takes perseverance to make a lot of them, to learn to adapt and fine tune your skills. We get too caught up in the Spielberg story; about a kid who snuck into the studios when he was 17 and took over the industry. That may have been true, but you shouldn't cling on to that tale. I've been on low-budget shoots where an actor has talked about their aspirations, but done it in a way where they're putting down the small film they're on, because they believe they're destined for greatness, that this is just a stop gap. But what is greatness? For me, some of the best moments of greatness come from the tiniest of films. Art appears everywhere, at any time, and in 2012 (and beyond), one single camera and an actor, filming down your street, may be enough to produce something of brilliance.

It could also be terrible. It probably will be terrible. Why? Because everybody can produce work now. Ever met a 22 year old with a film idea? They speak with certainty that it's a great concept, absolutely masterful. They get much quieter after the final edit, or after the first screening -- because they realise how tough it is to do good work.

With Social Networks, we are inundated with people's projects. They suffocate us. Nobody cares about your project at first, because they only have time for greatness! It's like when someone sends you something on Facebook, you resist clicking on it, you read maybe two lines, or watch ten seconds.

Most things that come our way are a waste of time. Life is filled with the irrelevant. But if you are amazing, people will pay attention. However; AMAZING doesn't just drop out of the sky, it isn't an accident, it's the result of a commitment you make to producing great work, to not leaving things unfinished, to stretching yourself to work with new collaborators.

In the age of Twitter, averageness suffers. Ten years ago it was easier to do something mildly okay and get a bit of attention. Now the information flows much quicker. There's an endless stream, and people respond only  to greatness, uniqueness, brilliance. And they love when things are heartfelt and resonate. The Internet truly is democratising art; we're getting more choice, and the big corporations who owned our entertainment don't hold the power they once did. The show 'Arrested Development' is coming back. It was a small, unsuccessful (ratings-wise) comedy sitcom. The show's fans were obsessive, because they knew it was magic -- a once every thirty years kind of thing. The fans pestered the creator and actors and producers, every chance they got. Jason Bateman and Michael Cera went on to star in big films, but at every press junket or Q+A, the people would always ask "When is Arrested Development coming back?". This has happened because of the Internet; because the audiences have more power now, and because people prefer Netflix over the TV networks. The show reached greatness. Not by the old paradigm of ratings and advertising revenue, but by the fact that it made people fanatical. It reached their hearts and they demanded its return.



Focus on expertise. Get better at what you do. Don't look for success or your big break. Look to improve. Find your uniqueness and work on it. That thing people like about what you do; make it truly your own and master it. Look at Jason Bateman, Kristen Wiig, Diablo Cody, the Duplass Brothers; they're not successful because they found luck. They're successful because they've been at it for years. Kristen Wiig didn't appear suddenly on SNL and in 'Bridesmaids', she put in the groundwork for years and years, and now she's a stand out comedienne, there's no-one like her.

The Internet is flooded with content, and as a result: no-one cares about your work. The media dumbed us down and convinced us to watch crap for a lot of years. It's fair to say, as a culture, we lost our way a bit. It convinced us as artists that the key is marketing, branding, being noticed.

Turns out the key is expertise. People will clamber to work with you if you know what you're doing. Work towards excellence, not celebrity or money; because the world is becoming impervious to advertising, we're starting to think for ourselves again - we want to see and be a part of greatness.

Care to share?

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Things I Love About Music

I love live Jason Mraz recordings, when he totally underplays a key line and makes it a hundred times more powerful. I love the way John Mayer delivers the line "I don't remember you looking any better," in the song 'Who Says.'

I love how Counting Crows make pain poetic. I love how Bruce Springsteen gives the struggle meaning. I love how you think you know what Tupac is, but then you listen to 'Dear Mama' and get completely blown away. I love that Mumford and Sons exist.

I love all the famous Lionel Richie songs. I love how sincere Rod Stewart is on record. I love what it meant to be an Oasis fan. I love that Hanson kept going and quietly became amazing. I love the softer Pearl Jam songs.

I love absolutely everything about Tom Petty. And Aretha Franklin. And Dave Matthews Band. I love what happens to a room full of people when Sinatra's "My Way" gets played. I love Joni Mitchell's 'Blue'. I love every piece of Jazz music that ever came out of New Orleans.

I love that you can listen to an Ennio Morricone film score and have a better experience than when you watched the movie. I love Michael Kamen's 'Band Of Brothers' score. I love how 'Ooh La La' by The Faces was used in 'Rushmore', and I love the Elton John moments in Cameron Crowe movies.

I love 'Ave Maria', and 'Signed, Sealed, Delivered', and 'What A Wonderful World', and 'When The Saints Go Marching In.'

What I am saying is this: I love music. 

Care to share?

Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Wings For Wheels


"Thunder Road" is my favourite song by Springsteen. Well, It's basically my favourite song by anyone.

But before "Thunder Road", came "Wings For Wheels". We only have the live versions. Is it really a great song? I don't know. I don't care! The important thing is the energy! If you want to know where The Boss finds all his energy, it's in this SONG!

You can hear his young excited mind whirring up and whizzing by and firing out into the world through this song. You can hear it in the whole band. There is no way they could have performed songs like this and NOT ended up as one of the greatest bands ever.

"Now the season's over and I feel it getting cold,
I wish I could take you to some sandy beach where we'd never grow old,
Ah but baby you know thats just jive,
But tonight's bustin' open and I'M ALIVE"

That line just kills me, in a GREAT WAY. BUT TONIGHT'S BUSTIN' OPEN AND I'M ALIVE!

This was Springsteen in the 70's. "Thunder Road" went on to be one of the greatest and most loved songs ever written. But this came first. This was "Thunder Road" before it was "Thunder Road." 

Makes you think about all the times you didn't quite nail it and wanted to ditch your work. It's important to remember you don't make your greatest hits right out of the gate, you gotta create a whole life's worth of junk first. 

But here's the thing. The junk ain't junk. "Wings For Wheels" has a magic that is undeniable. The energy and the vision and the idealism and the beauty; it screams through your speakers and makes you want to wake up in the 1970's at a concert, as part of a small group of people who really got to be a part of something.

That's all we want in life, to be a part of something. To matter.

"Wings For Wheels" matters. The scraps of junk you create on the road to your masterpieces, they matter. They're pieces of you. Probably bigger pieces than you realise. And the people who dig these pieces will dig everything you do. It's like the girlfriend who likes all the things about you that everyone else finds insufferable. You reach people by just putting yourself out there; by saying TONIGHT'S BUSTIN' OPEN AND I'M ALIVE!

"And maybe I can't lay the stars at your feet,
But I got this old car and she's pretty tough to beat."

That could be a metaphor for Springsteen's career. He beat everyone. He did it honestly, with integrity, and he outlasted all the other acts. He doesn't top the charts, but he sells out every venue he plays, all around the world. His fans are obsessed. It's a religion. 

And I'm telling you right now; if he played "Wings For Wheels" at a concert, the roof would explode. And if the gig was outdoors we'd all build a roof over it just to prove how powerful the moment was. 


I can feel all of Bruce Springsteen's career in this song. I can feel my own too. That's what the best songs do -- they sound like you, they encourage you, they ARE you. I don't have the creativity or the genius or the magic of Bruce Springsteen; but when you really really delve into a song you love, a song that makes you want to jump up and scream and run and write and dream and see and believe -- you think, even if just for a moment; WHY NOT? Why can't I achieve greatness? 


That is why I Love Bruce Springsteen. 

Care to share?

The Luckiest



The simple things are always the best. I heard Lionel Richie and Diana Ross singing "Endless Love" on the radio a few days back, and what I found remarkable was the simplicity. That's pretty much always the way when people achieve greatness; they do it with simplicity.

As artists we're always looking for the complex route. We think we have to mix things up and make them complicated to be original.

It shouldn't be about being complicated. It should be about being authentic.


Authentic wins every time.


Don't get me wrong, authentic isn't enough. You've got to be good also.


But eventually -- when someone really nails a piece of art -- it's so often when preparation meets.... simplicity and authenticity. 


Ben Folds
has always been quirky and strange and funny. "Song For The Dumped" is the song you play to friends to make them laugh, to grab them and turn them into fans.

"The Luckiest" is the song you play for the person you love, when they deserve it. It says everything ---- everything you're afraid to say. Everything you can't say in a simple way because nobody in the history of the world has ever been able to say anything in a simple way.


Except for the artists. When the artists are at their best; they reflect life back to us; in the most simple ways possible.


When it comes to death. What songs resonate? It's "I'll Be Missing You" by Puff Daddy, and "Dance With My Father" by Luther Vandross. These are the things that resonate when we
get down to what it's really all about. They're simple, they make the point, and they reach into our hearts and express how we feel. 


"Next door there's an old man,    
Who lived to his nineties and one day,
Passed away, in his sleep.     
And his wife, she stayed for a couple of days,
And passed away.      
I'm sorry, I know that's a strange way to tell you,
That I know we belong."


I woke up with this song in my head. Funny how they get there, don't you think? They just sneak in. It kept popping into my head all day. I'm not sure what "The Luckiest" means to me, although it means many things -- and has been the theme tune to relationships over the years, as well as some people who passed away, as well as often being the song I've listened to when flying home from my home away from home in the middle of the night feeling all profound and caught up in everything. 

What it means on this particular day, I don't know. But I'm glad my subconscious kicked it up and stuck it in my mental playlist for the day. 


"What if I'd been born fifty years before you,  
In a house on the street where you live.     
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike,
Would I know?"

Care to share?

Sunday, 29 January 2012

Love and Commitment

It's difficult to dedicate yourself for any amount of time. Deep down we want to be in it for the long haul, but that kind of commitment is hard.

What you strive for, is love. You want to give your life meaning and structure. I found that with 'The West Wing,' and it was heaven, we were made for each other. But it ended years ago and I still think I'm suffering.

I've tried. You take it easy and try out a pilot episode of something new. Usually you know straight away that it isn't for you, but occasionally you give it a few more episodes just to see if there's anything there. 

It's so rare. People take it for granted when they find the one, they think it's easy. People committed to 'Friends' and it was a breeze. Same with 'Frasier', too. Life was like a fantasy back then, but now it's harder.

There's so much choice. We want to commit, but we're afraid. What happens if you get three seasons in and realise you want different things? Or you realise they never cared about you at all? We all know what happened with 'Lost', and experiences like that are hard to recover from. 

It's easier when you're young, you'll give anything a go. You experiment and mess around and don't care about the consequences. But when you're an adult, you have less time. You have less optimism too, because you've been hurt so many times by inferior programming. In some cases people lose all drive to watch anything at all. Or they flit from one show to the next without a care for what they're doing.

Deep down we all want the same thing. We want to fall in love with a box-set that we can keep exploring again and again. That's when you know you've found something special, when you keep going back for more.

It's happened to me a few times, and I hope it has for you. If you've not been in love for a long while, don't worry, it'll come along when you least expect it. I remember a few years ago I was going through a particularly bad spell, but then 'Arrested Development' and 'Studio 60' came along. There's hope for everyone. 

Care to share?