Thoughts From 3.43am

It was my phone network that set me off, limiting data usage so I have to spend more money to be able to check my emails. It used to be free and unlimited until they changed it to make more money.

And I guess that's how everything goes. Everything is packaged and sold. One moment you're a kid making movies and a minute later everyone wants to know how you'll monetize it. Are you making a living? Did they pay you? Have you sold a script yet?

I get it. I live in London, afterall. Here petrol prices are more, food costs more, houses cost more. No reason for it except that it does because that's how the UK is. And we need our iPads and Xbox's too.

Art is an attempt to bring meaning to all the greed and fraud we see around us and inside ourselves. People don't value things unless they've turned a profit. Everyone is being taught how to write a script that sells, or how to brand yourself as an actor. I got that question from an actress yesterday, "How should I brand myself?" What does it even mean? When did being yourself become not enough?

The banking crisis proves how insane the world is. But rather than delve into the heart of the corruption and power abuse, we just moan about how the protesters are making a mess and annoying the neighbours.

We can't blame 'them' though. It's us too. I watched 'Pearl Jam Twenty' today, reminded me how supportive and nurturing the Seattle music scene was. I think of the film industry and it's just a bunch of clueless people running around wondering where the opportunities are. And if you can't find them don't worry there's a £800 two day seminar in how to succeed in the industry.

I'm realising more and more that my favorite bits of art are the tiniest of things. Little accidental mistakes in songs and quiet subtle scenes in movies.

We've lost the ability to be small. We need not be afraid to go back there.

And 'X Factor' is so retarded it's unreal. Parading people around on TV promising fame as if it's a good thing. Turn these talented kids into free thinking artists, don't write them crappy radio songs then flush them down the toilet a year later.

Come the end of the road, money and fame mean very little. Maybe there's another way. Maybe we can do better at supporting each others work. Maybe we don't need the studios in order to distribute our movies. Maybe we can reconnect with the smaller things, the little mistakes and desperate attempts and taped up failures which make art art.

I can't make phone calls without the phone company. But I can control my art.

Create something without thinking of where it will lead your career. Work on a peace of art that isn't about forwarding your career. Focus on something that you've wanted to do but have deemed too worthless.

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Cameron Crowe's PEARL JAM TWENTY: A Lesson In Artistic Integrity

The difference between a celebrity and an artist isn't always apparent straight away. Britney Spears and Adele might look like they're playing the same game, but twenty years from now we'll see the difference more clearly.

'Pearl Jam Twenty' is for Pearl Jam what 'The Promise' was for Springsteen, and what 'Senna' was for Ayrton Senna. The story of the artist is one of a long and intense struggle to keep a hold of your art in the midst of a world that pushes you to be something you're not.

At the beginning of the documentary you could be forgiven for thinking this is going to be a boring year by year biography of the band --- but of course, it becomes something more. The material was all there, of course, because of the band's distinguished career, but it's the fascinating insight and care of the director Cameron Crowe that helps shape it into something moving and essential for the audience.

Artists are often concerned by feelings of worthlessness. Why are we doing this? Why are we making meaningless movies? Why are we chasing high box office receipts? Here's the thing; the true artists aren't chasing box office receipts, that's not why they're in the game. Springsteen fought the record label and refused to put out any material for four years after his hit album 'Born To Run'. Chaplin fought the studios so much for control of his movies that in the end he built his own one. Pearl Jam fought with Ticketmaster when every other act in music turned a blind eye.

Pearl Jam are not just a band, it's not just music. True artists transcend. That's why I mentioned Ayrton Senna. When he was racing, it wasn't just a motorsport. I watched the Grand Prix today and couldn't stop myself from snoring, but back when Senna was racing, we were watching a gift from God. We were watching beauty and tragedy and magic and soul. It's the same with Pearl Jam. I'm not even saying I'm the biggest fan; but what I am saying is that when you look at their work over twenty years, it becomes about more than music. They stand for something.

The film is poignantly signposted by key incidents. The first of which is the death of the lead singer of MotherLove Bone, Andy Wood; who died before Pearl Jam existed and even before Eddie Vedder was in Seattle. He was a key part of the scene, and the band had Stone Gossard and Jeff Ament in it, who went on to form Pearl Jam with Eddie. The ghost of Andy lingers throughout the film, and it seems, throughout the history of the band -- he is hugely there in spirit throughout the journey of Pearl Jam. And this is what I'm talking about -- integrity. The band have always held onto themselves and where they're from. It sets them apart. How often do we see our favorite bands turn into something we hardly recognize? Too often, unfortunately.

We also get to see up close just how affected the band were by the death of Kurt Cobain. It's touching how they feel about him. They seem aware that, without Kurt, they probably wouldn't be where they are now. I would say more about it but I want you to watch the film.

This is a band who keep their Grammy Awards in their dusty basements because they don't care that much about them. They care about the fans. They care about playing a completely different setlist every night even though it's a logistical nightmare. They care about fighting the monopoly Ticketmaster have over ticket prices, they care about being truthful about their views on George Bush, or abortion, or human rights abuses, even though it risks alienating half of America. They're a band whose only goal is to be themselves and to do it as truthfully as possible.

At the Roskilde Festival in June, 2000, nine people in the crowd were crushed and suffocated to death during the band's set. Much like the death of Andy Wood which informed the first ten years of the band's history, the Roskilde tragedy has influenced everything that has come since. It's well documented that the band almost broke up and retired because of the affect it had on them, but what the documentary shows so beautifully is how it made the band closer, and deeper. If there was ever any hint that the band were in it for the money or fame, then it was truly extinguished after that fateful night in 2000. People change in profound ways. It's like how Ayrton Senna changed after his third championship title, or after Roland Ratzenburger's death the night before his own. When you do a thing for long enough, when it's your life's passion, it eventually gets influenced by all the profound things you face. It's unavoidable. Only years later when you look at it objectively, as Cameron Crowe does here, canyou see the beautiful and essential pattern that forms before you.

'Pearl Jam Twenty' is a film about what it takes to make art and keep making art. And it's made by the guy who made 'Almost Famous', so it's essential you watch it immediately.

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Gone European Girl

It was some years ago. I entered my hostel room somewhere in Sicily, and the prettiest girl you've ever seen turned around and lit up my world instantly.

In an unusual moment of confidence I demanded we go for a walk. She agreed and we did one of those walks where you take a left over the hill and learn all about each others childhoods and dreams before you come down the other side.

She was fascinated by the film stuff. And she seemed to get it in the way you always hope someone will get it.  
So we're in the hostel and she introduces me to some other girl and they get all giggly and crazy about the fact I make films. So I offer to show them something. They get all excited and sit on the bed waiting patiently and I suddenly realise this is my scariest audience ever.

And they're both German. And I freak because someone told me Germans don't get English comedy. And what if they don't understand the dialogue? And what if I'm the worst director ever?

I sit against the wall watching these two girls watch my film on my phone and I begin to freak out.

But then they laugh. SHE gets it. She laughs big and she chuckles at the subtle bits. No-one ever gets the subtle bits. My heart flew up high into the European night and I went to sleep wondering like crazy how this little angelic thing was staying in the same room as me.

The next day I'm busy. The day after she's busy. And that night she's down in the bar talking to some dude with a beard and my brain and heart get strangled and murdered dead cold and it's silly o'clock in the morning and you realise that she's somewhere else with some other guy.

Great moments are like movies. They're illusions, brief moments of bliss in between the harsh realities.

She liked my film for fifteen minutes and liked my company for five hours in the beautiful Sicilian village.

But she was caught up in some guy from the bar and I was all strangled and sad.

She left one morning at 5am with a note saying she enjoyed my films and meeting me. She slipped out past the heavy metal door without keeping to 5am sound etiquette. Not that I cared, because I was already awake, watching her leave, knowing I'd never see her again.

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FEEDBACK: Self-Sabotage

My blog post 'Self Sabotage' went a week without comments, until Bruce Wayne Brady left some feedback, perhaps explaining why. 

Bruce Wrote: I've read this post 3 times in the past few days. After reading it again and seeing a lack of comments, I had to say what I was afraid to. This post hit so close to home for me that I felt guily after reading it, like you'd reached into my personal memories and scolded me. I was embarrassed that I'd done all of these things. 

Then, I thought, you couldn't post this unless you knew what if felt like too. I realized that many of us read but few of us comment, because sometime we don't know what to say. Other times, like with this post, you've said it all.

I must ask you Kid, did you write this, (as it seems with all of your posts,) from personal experience? If so, thanks for sharing so much of yourself in your writing. I think that's why I connect to this blog. You seem to put a piece of yourself into the work, which gives it heart.

Now, excuse me. I have some barriers to break through.

My Response: Thanks for the very useful feedback! So often, when things I write are met with dead silence, I worry that I've missed the mark; or worse, that I've offended people or talked absolute nonsense. So it's great to get this feedback!

I did write this from personal experience. It's pretty much the only way I know how to write! It's a common thing for me to get an opportunity or a phone call that is essential and exciting, yet I shy away from it and want to find all the excuses. The things I write as 'inspiration' are as much for me as anyone. I just feel it's good to know we're all in a similar boat -- which is why it was so comforting to see your thoughtful response. 

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The 'Role' Of FILM DIRECTOR

I think everyone in the film industry has met directors who identify a little too heavily with the role. That's all a director is, a role, a function. People can get hypnotised by the role and become dictatorial or egotistical.

Let's be honest -- sometimes these directors get great results. But for me, the best directors are able to step in and out of the authoritative aspects of the role as and when necessary.

If a director is too strong, demanding, or Hitleristic, people suffer. The actors are less free, the crew are pressurized and the director himself is locked into a role. It's as if he's acting. Playing the role of director man.

Film directors are human beings too. They turn up to the film shoot crippled by family problems, headaches, insecurities. That's why the dictator style directing is so false, it oppresses the insecurity, the real life.

Directors have a vision. Sometimes the actors can't get there, sometimes the director of photography is adamant it should look different, sometimes you run out of daylight and everyone becomes an amateur again struggling to do anything to get the take.

There is a huge amount of psychology to directing. Are the actors feeling supported and valued? Do your crew respect you and believe in you? Great moments of artistic flow and magic are always balanced with moments of humble failure and confused insecurity.

Let's not forget: most films are terrible. Often the instincts of the director are flat out wrong. Sometimes it's a lack of talent, sometimes it's simply making a mistake in the room. You get asked "Should it be faster?", "Should the gun be in shot?" and you make a decision in the moment. You're a human being and sometimes you get it wrong.

Try as any filmmaker might, the fact remains that no director has total control. Films are living, breathing things. They're like the weather. You plan for sun but sometimes it pours. How can any director be in control when the secret to great art is so elusive?

Some of the best moments of cinema have been accidents, things that arrived in the moment. You have to be open to that. But you also have to know exactly what you want.

That's why practice is the key. In this day and age there is no excuse for upcoming directors to be sitting on their asses. Tarantino and Kevin Smith made it look like they just landed with a debut hit, but the truth is they both had previous projects which they stashed away.

Spielberg was making films at eight years old. That's a huge reason why he's one of the masters. But as we see, he doesn't always nail it. That's directing. That's art. Never stay too long with being discouraged.

The flip side is when you're precise and certain about something and no-one else gets it. The crew and cast doubt your judgement. Maybe you are certain of how to get the laugh in a scene, or how to have a chilling or tense moment. The job of the director is to catch these moments and nurture them into fruition. Sometimes; in fact, often, people will doubt your wisdom in the moment and be strong in resisting your direction.

These are usually the moments that make or break a film. If you're certain of something, if it's integral to your vision, insist on it. The director sees things others don't see. It's your job to confidently stride forth and bring it home. The best moments in my films are nearly always things that the actors resisted the most.

That's film directing.

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Come Live With Me (1941)

This film is absolutely delightful!

Illegal immigrant Johnny Jones (Hedy Lamarr) needs to get married for a visa. The man she loves is already married, so when she meets down on his luck Bill Smith (Jimmy Stewart), she offers to settle all his bills each week, in return for a marriage.

He accepts.

But then Bill begins falling in love with this mystery woman who comes by on a weekly basis. Unfortunately, her heart is with another man who happens to be a wealthy book publisher. 

Our hero Johnny Jones happens to be a struggling author. Inspired by his mysterious wife, he pens a great novel about their bizarre relationship. It's so good that the publishers get interested. 

Of course, when book publisher Barton Kendrick reads the story of a Viennese woman who has married a man for a Visa, it strikes a chord, it's too coincidental to be fiction.

Here's where it gets hilarious. The publisher, Barton, wants to meet this author who is clearly writing about his woman. Bill comes to the office, excited about the prospect of being published. One problem, they disagree on the ending. Bill wants a happy ending, whereas Barton thinks she should run off with the other guy. Barton's wife Diane (Verree Teasdale) watches them argue in the meeting, wondering why they're both so passionate about these characters.

Barton pays Bill an advance for the story; and then asks his wife for a divorce. He's going after his true love Johnny Jones.

But of course; now the poor author Bill has a big advance! So he goes to see Johnny and demands she take a trip with him. Barton had unwittingly played a part in his own demise.

And on it goes and various other things happen to take the film to its ending. I'll hold back taking you directly to the finishing line, just in case you decide to watch it, which I think you should.

Don't you just love old movies? Give me some black, some white, a Jimmy Stewart and a beauty like Hedy Lamarr and I'm the happiest guy in the world. 

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Tuesday Dialogue #2 - Joshua Lyman and Amy Gardner

Setting the scene: Joshua Lyman is Deputy Chief Of Staff in the Whitehouse. Amy Gardner is the Director of the Women's Leadership Coalition. Josh is good with politics, good with arguments. 

Being in a relationship with a woman is not a luxury he's allowed himself in a long time. He was able to ignore this problem until Amy Gardner came along. 

AMY

You owe me half a million dollars and a drink. 

JOSH

I paid for the drinks.

AMY

Alright, five hundred grand.

JOSH

What are you doing here?

AMY

I'm just hanging out. Why, do you live here?

JOSH

I do. I'm sorry I had to leave quickly before, I still can't tell you why.

AMY

Was it a matter of national security? 

JOSH

No. 

AMY

Would you tell me if it was a matter of national security?

JOSH

No.

AMY

Okay. You didn't talk to me much at school.

JOSH

You was having quite a lot of sex with Chris.

AMY

There were times I wasn't

JOSH

I studied a lot in school. I studied hard in high school, and at Harvard and in law school. My IQ doesn't break the bank and I wanted to do this, so I studied all the time. And -- I missed something, or it's like I skipped a year, Cause I never learned what you do after you think you like somebody, what you do next. And everyone did learn, a lot of other people anyway. I didn't walk out tonight. When my phone rings at eleven o'clock it's important. Not important to me, important-- and I'm not puffing myself so you that you're--

AMY

You know what? Maybe not so much for you with the talking. 

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