Tuesday, 25 September 2012

GROUNDHOG DAY: A Masterpiece of PREMISE and CHARACTER

The reason that GROUNDHOG DAY is so funny and has lasted for so long as one of the all-time great comedies, is how intricately it is put together. The problem with most comedies is that the structure and premise are not given due attention. Writers latch on to an idea and use it as a jumping point. But the best films are built around the premise. If you set the film up in the correct way, the structure and rules don't limit you, they free you. 

The first eighteen minutes of the film are not actually particularly funny. In fact, if it wasn't for the charisma and humour of Bill Murray, it's possible you would be bored. What the opening of the film does do - is plant in the key concepts which the film will keep referring to again and again and again. 



The second time Phil Connors (Bill Murray) experiences Groundhog Day is when the film really begins to deliver the laughs. The concept is a funny one, 'what if a guy had to live the same day again and again?' --- the second walk-through of the day delivers on this joke. Most movies peak at this moment-- they have a humorous set-up, play out the joke, and then run out of ideas. It's why most rom-coms, despite sounding clever in a pitch meeting, end up being predictable run of the mill movies. 

When the audience knows the world your film is set in, you can take them anywhere, as long as it stays within the confines of the universe you've created. In 'Groundhog Day', once the audience knows that they're going to be seeing the same day again and again -- the director, Harold Ramis, was free to dive into different scenarios without needing to set them up each time. This is why your premise, and how you deliver it, has to be perfect. This is the difference between great comedy and average-to-poor comedy. It's like when I wrote recently about 'The Watch' and 'Ted' - they're lazy and hacked together. Like the writers thought "Oh, a guy can't get rid of his bear, and a bunch of neighbours protect their hometown from aliens," and thought that would be enough, but it's about so much more than that to produce a stand-out comedy.

Another thing that 'Groundhog Day' has going for it is, of course, Mr Bill Murray, in what is surely the defining performance of his career. The crazy thing about his miserable, angry character, is that we can relate to him! Despite the supernatural thing he is experiencing, of living the same day over and over, we realise that it's not too far from our own experiences. Most of us go through months and months of seeing the same people, having the same conversations, facing the same problems. Despite the ridiculous situation Connors is in, it's also surprisingly normal.


PHIL
What would you do if you were stuck in one place, and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?

GUY IN BAR
That about sums it up for me. 

As Phil grapples with his bizarre situation, he is plagued with concerns about the meaning of his life, or lack thereof. His concerns are specific to his situation, of living the same day again and again, yet miraculously, they are all same issues we all face, day after day. At various points in the film, Phil finds temporary freedom - through driving on train tracks, manipulating dates with Nancy, and eventually -- through killing himself. These troubling yet hilarious moments give us a great insight into Phil's character, and they also strengthen the premise. We realise, this guy really is stuck in a predicament, and nothing he does matters. You could argue that the movie has atheistic undertones--- if life is meaningless, what exactly are we meant to live for? 



The perfect construction of the film's premise allowed for so many delightful moments that wouldn't have been possible without it. A perfect example is the morning after Phil is put in jail. Despite being miserable in his repeated daily existence, he is ecstatic about being a free man again. He comes down the steps and talks to the woman from the bed-and-breakfast place. Before she can offer him coffee or ask about the weather, Connors answers all the questions, because he's heard them countless times before. This joke was set up in the opening stages of the film, and repeated throughout. Comedy is like lego, you have to build the pieces and make sure they fit together perfectly. It's also about repetition. 'Groundhog Day' is pretty much just five or six scenes being repeated again and again, but they're different each time because of the plight of the character. (If you're interested in these elements of comedy, I recommend you read my blog post about Billy Wilder and I.A. L Diamond's 'The Apartment' and also read the screenplay).

Then we have Phil Connors in the coffee house, with a plethora of cakes and pancakes and cigarettes -- throwing caution to the wind. He made the choice, which I must say is an extremely tempting one, to live a life full of eating bad food and not giving a crap about anything. Again, he is forced into this viewpoint by the premise of the film, yet it is also something we relate to in our monotonous, repetitive lives. If I eat a giant cake today, does it matter? If life is meaningless anyway, should I smoke some cigarettes and have another pancake? 

'Groundhog Day' is a fresh take on a tried and tested notion that any day could be our last, and that it's about making the most of life. To quote the title of a new film staring Dakota Fanning, "Now is good". Of course, we all know that now is good, but we need reminders. We need movies to drum it into us. 

The thing about Phil Connors is that he is so unaware. He thinks he's above the work he's doing, being forced to travel to see if a rat sees its shadow. He's dissatisfied. And he sees the repeating of each day as a punishment, as another thing he has to get through. Isn't that how we all see most of our days, as something we have to get through? So he tries to manipulate the situations, by stealing money, manipulating women to go to bed with him, killing the groundhog. 

Come the end, there's only one thing Phil hasn't tried: being genuine. Getting coffee for his colleagues, taking piano lessons, trying to save an old man's life. What makes this so powerful, much like in his miserable moments, is how strongly we relate to it. We want to be people who look out for others and follow our passions and be kind to strangers; yet we always get grumpy and delay it-- we think we'll be the great versions of ourselves tomorrow, or next week, or after a trip to Spain or whenever it is we get enough sleep.


The film asks; what would you do if you had to live the same day again and again and again? Midway through we realise, we already are living the same day again and again and again. The question is, now that you know this, what are you going to do with your life? When are you going to make an effort and put a smile on people's faces? 

Care to share?

Monday, 24 September 2012

Actress with the Sinking Eyes

She was one of those girls, drawn towards the movies because of her mixed up messed up past, all broken promises and visions of places that may or may not have existed.

Something went wrong, back then, and she never got a chance to grow in to who she was, who she wanted to be.

Acting was a chance to be someone else. To be someone else so deeply that maybe underneath it, she'd find out who she really was. There was never anyone around to tell her who to be or where to go. A childhood of guessing and hoping and seeing people wave goodbye, never to return.

Every audition, every rejection, was just like those younger times on foggy country roads that smelled of morning rain, where people waved goodbye from old cars getting ever closer to the distance.

She wanted one role. One chance to stake her claim. To show people her sinking eyes. To prove once and all that she existed. She assumed that, if she could be a movie star, she'd be so famous that someone would be able to explain who she was, and where she was meant to go.

Still she waited, ever hopeful. Everyone thought she wanted fame, but she just wanted to be accepted.

Care to share?

Favourites

Who knows why your favourites are your favourites. 

I was just watching an old episode of 'Louie'. It ended with Louie coming home from a night out. His kids wake up and walk into the lounge, sit with him, then say they wanna go out for breakfast, even though it's 4am. It cuts to them, moments later, in a cafe eating breakfast. It's just Louie and his two girls.

And I love that moment. I can't describe why. It just resonates with me. It's strangely profound and touching.

Doesn't that sound like your favourite moments? I've written over 1000 blog posts, but I'd struggle to give you 100 words about the things I love the most.

We love what we love and we have hardly any clue why.

When you're young, you think it's about taste. You think you know what's great, and everyone else is wrong, or misinformed.

But the feeling that I feel when I hear a recording of Lester Young playing saxophone is not about taste, it's about me. About who I am. Not that I could explain it.

Finding someone who likes the same films or music as you do is a wonderful thing. Why does it happen? Maybe you were both dropped on the exact same part of the head as babies, or maybe you both were brought up by your parents to watch 'Only Fools and Horses', or maybe you both had horrid break-ups and that's why you connect over Joni Mitchell.

The unfortunate thing is that we become conscious of our artistic preferences. We realise we love comedy, so stop watching horrors. We think rap music sucks, then listen only to Dave Matthews for three months. But what are tastes? They're the accumulation of previous tastes and experiences. 

The problem with this is that closely defining your 'tastes' can also kill your senses. Suddenly, everything sucks. You go around hoping for another Lester Young with a saxophone, but it's impossible. It's impossible because you don't know what you're looking for, because you don't consciously know why you love what you love.

You just love it.

A Netflix algorithm can find you a decent movie that matches your tastes, just like a dating website can probably find you another Spielberg fan, but neither of these are likely to capture your heart. There's no way to calculate what things will be favourites.

And I'm talking about REAL favourites. Like those movies you loved as a teenager, the ones that absolutely and completely explained EXACTLY who you are.

Films and music offer small clues about life. Little insights into who you are as a human being on this earth. The film reviewers won't be able to tell you if you'll connect, and the trailers will never capture the magic --- instead, it's about you. It's about where you've been, where you're at and where you're going. If you're extremely lucky, you'll see a piece of you up on the big screen. That's why we go to the movies. It's the hope for insight, for meaning, for a favourite.

When you find a favourite, it becomes a part of your personality, your DNA, you become more you. That's why we keep watching. 

Care to share?

Sunday, 16 September 2012

Cinema Is About Hearing From ALL The Voices: The Lack Of Diversity in Hollywood

If you look at the current top 10 films in the USA Box Office, they are primarily written by white American men, aged between 30-50. Out of curiosity, I looked at the stats for the same time last year, and it was exactly the same. Most movies are written by white 35 year old guys who live in LA. Even, 'The Help', a movie primarily about black people, was written and directed by a white fortysomething male. 

And I'm not meaning to start a discussion about institutional racism within the film industry. It's a much debated topic, and I don't know enough about it. I am here as an artist and as a viewer; saying: I'm pretty bored of what's coming out of Hollywood. Would more diversity, writer-wise and director-wise, not make films more interesting? 

Last night, I watched a wonderful South Korean film called "Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter.. and Spring". It's a film from 2003, about Buddhism, and the journey of a young man learning from a master. It was beautifully shot, thoroughly engaging, and completely different from what I normally watch, and indeed, totally different to my own experience of life. It reminded me of why I love cinema. At it's best, the movies can take us to places we've never been before. It can take us on unexpected journeys in unique ways. 



But just because I enjoyed it, that doesn't mean everyone who watches Ben Stiller movies would enjoy it as well. World Cinema is enjoyed by the passionate few rather than the mainstream. That's fine, but I feel there's definitely room for some cross-over. 

Most films are produced in LA. And I don't mean to claim any of those over-caffeinated 30 something white guys are undeserving of their writing credits. Indeed, they are a demographic that I am a part of -- and for their perseverance and writing skills, they deserve all of the writing gigs they've been a part of.

But everyone else deserves those opportunities too, . and we're not seeing enough from them. Do black people struggle to understand Final Draft? Are women too busy sitting at home watching the new 'Dallas' episodes? Or does Hollywood, --purposefully or not-- favour the stories of one particular demographic over others? I ask this, not as some activist for equal opportunities, but as a film fan who thinks the movies would be better if more people were invited to the party. 

If Hollywood were to re-make 'Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter... and Spring", it would almost certainly be written by a 36 year old white guy. 

Here's the pitch meeting. In Starbucks. 


JIM STEIN
So like, my idea, like, for this movie -- is that 
we have these Buddhists, and we see their 
inspiring journey. 

BILL
But we want it to be authentic. 

JIM STEIN
Yeah man. Like, I am so into Buddhism right now. 
I read 'The Secret' and I am going on a four day 
retreat next month. 

BILL
Cool.

JIM STEIN
It is cool dude. We should make the movie.

BILL
Cool.

And then the movie gets made. 

Of all the world's wisdom and intrigue; should all of our stories be coming from a select group of American dudes in LA? Isn't there more to life than that? When you think about the power of cinema - it seems strange that so much of what we see comes from a very specific demographic. It's a demographic that grew up on movies. The modern LA writer can talk to you endlessly about their inspirations and influences --- the end result? Most movies are about other movies. It's hardly a surprise that most movies coming out of Hollywood are remakes and reboots; when that's all anybody has experience in --- other movies. 

I think this is why I am spending most of my time watching foreign films right now. They're far more engaging and thoughtful. When I look at the history of cinema; so many of my favourite writers and directors came from more humble beginnings. Ernst Lubitsch, Billy Wilder, Frank Capra, Charlie Chaplin -- all emigrated to the USA; and the pain and complexity of their lives was woven into their work. Chaplin escaping poverty, Wilder escaping Nazi Germany. And THAT is what made their work so beautiful, the stories behind the stories. The sweet and the sour. 


Now we have privileged white dudes. Film school brats and Starbucks. And they're responsible for everything we see in the cinema.

Within diversity is a plethora of stories. I feel we have milked nearly every drop out of the thirtysomething-white-American experience. What else can we learn about what it is to be a human being? Could movies play a larger part in showing us? Is Hollywood even remotely interested in the world outside of Starbucks? 

Care to share?

Thursday, 13 September 2012

How To Have Authority On Set When Directing a Film

I remember it clearly, and it still kind of haunts me. The actress wanted some more direction, but she didn't look to me, the director, she looked at the actor who was standing next to me. The actor pitched in with his comments, "Yeah, you should look to the left, think about it, then shout the line as if you're really angry". 

The actress shouldn't have asked the actor what to do. 

The actor shouldn't have given her a direction.

And I shouldn't have allowed any of this to happen in the first place. 

But I was young and this happened ten years ago. Every director goes through this stage. The stage of losing control, of losing the trust of your actors, of losing your authority. Basically, it's when the actors think you don't have a clue what you're doing. 

And it hurts. 

So I'm here to tell you that you need to be confident, you need to know what you're doing, and you need to have authority. 

It's not about being dictatorial. It's about management, but more than that -- it's about creative vision. Anyone can have an idea in the room that feels great. Especially with comedy. Everybody thinks they know what is funny, there'll never be a shortage of voices chipping in, but it's of no help to you when you're in the editing room if it doesn't fit in with your vision. 

When you're making a film, it's your job, as a director, to know your characters and the story inside out.  When the actors are not quite nailing it, or they're insecure about what they're doing, they'll look to you for feedback. If you are not available to give it to them, they'll look for it elsewhere. And the worst case scenario is that the make-up artist is telling her what her character should be, or her boyfriend is giving her acting tips on the way home. When this happens, you lose your authority, you're an empty vessel.



Two years ago, I travelled across the country with the producer of my film, to read through the script with an actor who we were considering casting, and the actress who we'd already given a role to. It was going great -- and then the actor asked me a few questions about the meaning of the scene. I did what I like to do; I dreamed into the scene a little bit, allowed it to resonate with me and bring up some feelings. The producer, sitting next to me, saw what I was doing and made the assumption that I didn't have the answer. So he said, "What I think he means is, the character is really upset here, and struggling to get out his emotions." It was, of course, absolutely not what I meant to say nor did it have anything to do with the meaning of the scene. 

The problem wasn't that I didn't know what I was doing. The problem was that the producer was new to working with me and didn't know my process. I turned to the actors and said, "that's a really interesting viewpoint, but it's not what I mean at all." I then went on to explain very specifically what I wanted from the scene, and then the actors nailed it. The long journey home with the producer was rather heated as we discussed what had happened. But after that he knew not to meddle in what the actors were doing, as that wasn't his job. 

Which brings me on to an important point. We all direct in different ways. I recently wrote a screenplay for a director who loves to have ideas from all sides on the set. He loves hearing people yell out, "how about she wears a funny hat!?" or "Maybe we should film this scene with no sound!" He loves it. I am the opposite, especially with regards to the actors -- I don't want the sound guy talking to the actress about what he thinks her motivation is. There needs to be one director, that's how I work. And as I said at the beginning, it's not about being a dictator, it's about having a singular voice shaping the material. 

Take a Cameron Crowe movie. I guarantee there are moments in his films that the sound guys and the make-up artists just don't get, but then, they don't need to, because Crowe knows what he's doing. Those little subtle moments that are about a look, or a wave, or a smile. He knows what they need to be, even though everyone on the set might be thinking, "is that it?" and "do we really have it?". You'll have a lot of those moments yourself where you, as director, can see something that nobody else can see. That is what directing is, honing in on what you think is important. And when you really find something in a scene that MATTERS, it will almost certainly be the bit that half of the people on the set don't understand. At that moment, you need to be working with your actors. As long as they can grasp it, and as long as the Director of Photography knows what he's doing --- you're set. 

The title of this article is 'How To Have Authority On Set When Directing A Film'. The way to do that, is to make sure that everyone knows what you're about, how you work. If you need silence between takes so you can think, then you need to communicate that. If you need chaos, then let people know you need chaos. The set needs to be run in a way that suits your temperament. 

One of the secrets about film sets, especially when you're starting out with low-budget films, or (and especially) student films, is that everyone wants to be a director. Not only do they want to be a director, but they think they are already the greatest director in the world. The runner will want to chip in with a line change, the camera assistant will want to replace the joke about bananas with a wisecrack about apricots. You need to make sure that the people on your set are on the set to do the jobs they've been brought in to do. 

The more you direct, the easier it gets. Now, if I have a problem, I immediately deal with it by halting what we're doing and addressing the crew. Another thing that comes with experience is a reputation. When people know you can deliver, and that you have your own style, they'll be less inclined to chip in with needless ideas. And that's why I wrote this article; because you can't nail your own particular style if you get drowned out by others. There is nothing worse than losing the trust of your actors or crew on the set. It's a sinking feeling that is very hard to recover from. 

Be confident. Be strong. Make sure everyone on the set knows that you know what you're doing. 

But a few notes of caution. 

What I am talking about is artistic vision and direction, not dictatorship. If you think you know absolutely everything, you're clueless! There'll be stressful filming days when you're utterly confused. And there'll be times when it's 4am and you've been shooting for far longer than is legal, and you'll NEED the production assistant's help to remember what the character's motivation is. 

The point is to be open and transparent about what you need, as a director. It's about knowing your strengths, but it's also about knowing your weaknesses. My weakness is that I can't think on set if everyone is making small talk between takes -- my brain just can't process it. Rather than be a crazy loon who yells at everyone, I just make sure that everyone knows how I work. I have certain things that need to happen around me for me to be able to get in the zone. The more you make films, the more you'll find your own limitations and needs, and that's how you grow as a director.  

Care to share?