Screenplay #4

Time to open some champagne - I finished the rough draft of Feature-Length Screenplay #4 last night. It's called "The Q3 Numbers" or maybe "Zogby's Constant," and is subtitled "An Adventure in Advanced Radical Economics." (Seriously.)

Did I say rough draft? It's VERY rough. WAY rough. You could exfoliate with this thing. You could sand down the sharp edges on that handrail leading up to your porch. Last night I definitely hammered in the Golden Spike that finally connected the east and west coasts of the plot, but it won't be a very comfortable train ride for a few drafts. Another writing metaphor: Last night I threw the switch and the Monster stirred to life, but it can barely make it off the slab without collapsing and going into convulsions.

But, it's a finished draft. Kind of disturbing that it's only my fourth feature-length. (#1: "Planet 9 is a Huge Brain," #2: "Night Job," #3: "Intervention") Also disturbing how long it took me. (Although I did take a few months off during the writing and wrote a short)

In celebration - and perversion - of National Novel-Writing Month, I'm going to try to slam out #5 in 30 short days before going back to rewrite this one.

They're doing great things with fabric - at Jo-Ann Fabrics!

You thought the Major Anthony Nelson costume was done? Nay. Nay.

I did not mention before that the one appropriately fitting jacket we found in L.A. county was missing the epaulets*, a word by the way that existed in my mind totally divorced from its pronunciation, and which means the little flaps over the shoulders where Certain Shiny Things are sometimes pinned.

(But why am I telling you this? I am sure I am the only one that did not have this knowledge already tucked away in a cluster of brain cells towards the back.)

My big idea was to go and find a cheapie raincoat of the same color at a thrift store and snip the belt for use on this franken-costume. But one does not go "looking for things" at a thrift store, one simply goes and takes what one finds, so it was decided that a fabric store might have something.

A FABRIC STORE. Turn the ship around, it turns out that the one thing you need is in the worst possible place in the universe.

We went to Jo-Ann Fabrics, and let me say that it marked the first time in my life I have ever willingly entered a fabric store. The last time I went to a fabric store, I believe I was nine, and I'm fairly sure I was spanked because I made such a scene begging not to be there. I HATED the fabric store as a kid. I LOATHED it. I BEGGED not to be taken there, and once there, I pleaded endlessly to be released.

Why? I have come to realize as an adult that there really is something almost supernaturally dull about fabric stores. I wasn't just being a bad kid. They are like the Phantom Zone for children. They are formless voids, completely without sensation and creativity. If ever Superman decides I have committed crimes too horrible for humanity, he will lock me in at Jo-Ann Fabrics.

Fabric stores are physically, psychically, universally repulsive. Do not defend them. There is nothing in a fabric store - no shiny thing, no item, no concept, no packaging, no person, nothing - that my mind can take hold of and consider.

I could walk into any number of specialty stores that I'd normally not be in - Discontinued Auto Parts, Unethical Medical Supplies, Only Books About Fly-Fishing, Restaurant Surplus, Unsorted Ball Bearings R Us, Mismatched Industrial Washers, Unclaimed Obsolete Manifestos, and find something of interest. Not... in fabric stores. I walk around looking at buttons and threads and zippers and cloth and just think, WHY. WHY. WHY. NO. NO.

It's a little like a mental isolation chamber in there to me. I don't know why. My mind turns in on itself, desperate for something to occupy it. It's like an anesthetic has been applied to the right side of my brain. I begin to panic. Get me the hell out of here.

The spirit of Jo-Ann hung heavy over this particular franchise. She called out to us from every aisle to take some fabric and fashion it into a Holly Hobby costume, or why not Raggedy-Ann and Andy? Get back, devil! Get back, Jo-Ann! We stayed on task and found some sort of ribbon to make into faux-epaulets. Then we had to stand in line to get someone to clip some off.

In the 32 years it took for the line to move, and absent any sort of stimuli at all, my mind started fashioning absurd useless slogans for the place.

They're doing great things with fabrics - at Jo-Ann Fabrics!

Get me the hell out of Jo-Ann Fabrics!

Why is it perpetually twenty years ago in these places? Who keeps the buttons straight? Why am I even here? Why are they selling all these little knick-knacks that you'd never think to find here? What would you possibly use this particular furry fabric for? Why are there seven people in line ahead of me, all with solid yellow fabric? Is there a school play that calls for a Chorus of Bees right now? Why do fabric stores suck so completely, so terribly?

Let's hear it for the rapists and the rednecks

It seems likely that Charlize Theron, Richard Jenkins, Sissy Spacek, and / or Frances McDormand might receive a lot of recognition and maybe awards for their performances in "North Country," and that would be great. (Especially Jenkins - I think he's overdue.) It's a very good movie, it's a moving story, and their acting is top notch.

But let's take a minute and give a shout-out to the rednecks, the rapists, the average small-town dumbass yokels, the girls with big hair, the obnoxious teenagers, and the regular ol' folks - those people that make up the textured background of this story. These are not showy roles, but the thankless ones, and ones that sometimes inspire genuine disgust, pity, and even hatred.

These actors pulled off their roles without giving a hint that they were just actors and that, secretly, they weren't like this. Nothing against the leads, but it occurs to me in a movie like this, the folks in the background are often ignored. And each of those actors absolutely make this movie.

Check out this movie and look at Jeremy Renner as Bobby Sharp, who you will hate. Also, how hard would it be to play that same character as a hateful kid, as the little-known Cole Williams did? Notice the guys that pushed the Porta-potty over, or the Union guys that basically just glowered. Check out Michelle Monaghan as Sherry, Jillian Armenante as Peg, and especially Amber Heard as the young Josey - she handles what has to be one of the toughest scenes an actress can have very well.

ESPECIALLY check out Brad William Henke as the high school teacher in that same scene. Could there be a more thankless role? As you watch him are you thinking about how good an actor he is, or how much you'd like to kill him?

Special Citation for Supercilious Civilian Interaction

I'd like to award a Special Citation for Supercilious Civilian Interaction to the veteran of a foreign war working the counter at the Army / Navy Surplus Store on Lincoln last week.

This man patiently helped me put together my halloween costume, even though he had to coax me into letting him.

Last year Ami and I attended the Halloween Parade in West Hollywood as ourselves, but it was so fantastic we swore we never be just spectators again, that we would get costumes for this year. We wanted the outfits to be couple-themed, and after some months of brainstorming, it was decided that Jeannie and Major Nelson would be the best bet.

The Jeannie costume was easily procured. The whole thing came in one convenient package at the first stop. Major Anthony Nelson, not so much.

No costume store had anything resembling a military uniform. The first three Army / Navy surplus stores had them, but in sizes suitable for very wee people. It was as if at some point in the past our Armed Forces had been planning on opening up Officer's Training to nine-year olds. And you'd think in Hollywood you could rent such things from any number of professional shops, and you'd be right, but only at great expense and only for movies or shows. I began to get frustrated.

Finally a semi-suitable jacket and hat were found. Now I needed some shiny things to pin to the front, as pictured in the photo I was using as reference. Back to Army / Navy, and the "medals" counter.

I was trying to do this quietly; even though these things were clearly for sale, I felt a little weird and embarassed to be buying them for a costume. I certainly didn't want to ask for help from any of the burly, gray-haired guys dressed in faded camo who worked there, who had probably actually earned some of the medals I was handling.

I was discreetly checking my Larry Hagman printout when one of the older guys approached.

"Can I show you anything?" he asked.

"Um... I... I'm just looking for some stuff... for... um..." I stammered.

He pointed out some random ribbons, medals and insignia to me, making brief comments on the meaning of each. This made me realize that all the items I was looking at were actually for different branches of the service. Oh.

"I'm actually putting together something for an Air Force outfit," I said finally, trying absurdly to avoid the words HALLOWEEN and COSTUME, as if people just came in and put together Air Force ensembles to wear casually, as if that would be better than a Halloween costume I suppose. Mainly I just wanted to get something that looked like a shiny "wings" pin for my jacket and get the hell out of there.

"You got a picture there we can go by?" he asked, pointing at the printout I was folding into a smaller and smaller square. As he took it from my unproffered hand, I felt my face turning red.

"Hmmm," he said. "Well, this guy was a Major, as I recall, so you'll want these clusters over here. The ones you're looking at are for a General. And you'll need a few eagles."

"Oh, OK." I said.

"And - he was in the space program, too," he said. "Isn't that how he found Jeannie? So those wings you've picked out are fine, but these over here are actually for astronauts."

He set to work, walking me through picking out eight pieces of insignia and medals for the costume - Major clusters, U.S. pin, eagles for hat and lapel, pausing to speculate with gentle seriousness on what sort of medals Maj. Nelson might have earned in his career. (We settled on Distinguished Service, Defense Meritorious Service, Air Force Commendation, and Basic Military Training Honor Graduate.) He checked carefully to see if I minded when some of the pieces were mismatched - one eagle was for a Colonel, one for a Major. And then he rung me up with a smile.

I am not sure a Citation for Supercilious Civilian Interaction for veterans exists, but it should.

The Wisdom of the Past

Sometimes I like to reflect on the wisdom of our elders, remembering the clarity and insight of their words. You know, things like:

and

Let us remember their brave words from the past - perhaps they can guide us in a troubled present. Check out the whole amazing list compiled by firedoglake.

Note to my Subconscious

Dear Subconscious:

Enough with the disturbing dreams this week. I've had my fill.

Sunday night: I accidentally stumble into the secret city all the homeless criminals, carnies, and villains have established at the top of all the skyscrapers, and even though I try to act natural they won't stop looking at me.

Monday Night: Perfectly ordinary dream interrupted when three devil-people pull up in a car and try to hand me terrifying devil-brochures. (I suspect these three had come down from the Secret Homeless Criminal City.)

Tuesday Night: Again, a perfectly fine dream, but then at the end I discover a body tangled in debris at the edge of the lake.

I think I've earned either a simple flying dream tonight or undisturbed rest.

Signed,

Me

An Odd Thing About Crest Whitestrips

In using them I discovered accidentally that there is actually a sixth impression that I can do:

6. Cloris Leachman as "Nurse Charlotte Diesel" in "High Anxiety."

In the thirty minutes twice a day that I was supposed to leave the Whitestrips on, I tried not to talk, and I also kept my lips clamped tightly to my teeth so the disgusting strip wouldn't move around. The result was that when I DID have to say something, it was terse, to the point, and clumsily, slowly over-articulated. It was the exact intonation of Leachman's S&M nurse.

Eureka! I'll need to review the film again to get some good lines. On the other hand, I finished the run of Whitestripping. But can your teeth ever be too white?

As you can see, the implications for further impression development are huge. What OTHER artificial speech impediments could be employed to unlock other impressions? If I put cotton balls in my cheeks can I do Marlon Brando as the Godfather? Will being under the effect of a local anesthetic after a dental appointment open up any new vocal vistas?

And most importantly, what is the thing I have to use and where do I put it to make a Walken impression available to me?

A Constitutional Crisis

James Wolcott on Fitzgerald's investigation of the Valerie Plame case:

Hey, maybe they can even claim that it puts us in a Constitutional Crisis!

Seven Steps to Passable Wine Talk for People Who Don't Care About Wine

I enjoy a glass of wine now and then, but I have to admit the affectation and ambience that comes along with it is the larger part of my enjoyment, more than the drink itself. It usually comes out at a meal someone has worked hard on, or in a bar that's just a notch classy, and not so much about T.V.s blaring at you from every corner.

I do have likes and dislikes in styles, but my palate seems to be stuck on something really lo-res like 16 Possible Tastes. When you talk to wine folk, though, they seem to have a very advanced palate, capable of 32-bit tasting and millions of possible flavors.

Or... do they?

I'm not trying to bust up some sort of conspiracy here. I'm just saying what I have found with wine people is that it's not so much the drink, as the drink-talk. And that can be faked.

But why would we want to? Because we enjoy a sip now and then, and more importantly we enjoy the people we sip with, even though we cannot keep up with their lingo, not that we want to. And what else are you going to do while they're talking about what this would go with and that time they had the perfect bottle?

There are seven steps to passable wine talk, and the first two cover how to choose a wine if you are called on to do so:

That's it. You've picked a wine that's just as good as anything the wine people would spend twenty minutes selecting.

Now, for the imbibing. I don't suggest all these steps are necessary every time you crack open a bottle, but if I sense the conversation is veering over into matters of the vine, and I feel like playing the wine-talk game, I use these as starting points:

Above all, and this is important for each step, KEEP A STRAIGHT FACE. Remember, the point is to see if you can insert yourself into the milieu without letting on. We're not mocking our wine friends, we're just having fun here.

That's it. Make an acting game of it. BELIEVE you taste that moss in there. SEE that cute little Bosnian wine shop guy. TASTE that dish you once had that complemented this vintage so well. Swirl your wine and be thoughtful.

Note to Anti Chris

I'm not going to bother to respond point-by-point to your latest, because it looks like you didn't read me very carefully anyway.

But tell you what - one of these days, when you CAN spare the time, go ahead and reply to the ridiculous points in my list. I'd really love to hear what you have to say - on any of them. (And yes, I WOULD like to get you started on the Kyoto Protocol thing!) If it's going to be such short work for you to respond, then have at it.

I look forward to how you'll deal with the whole of each problem, with all their complexities!

Or: you could just ignore that and make more generalizations. It's up to you.

Got anything besides "All you do is Bush-Bash!" or "You're a dumb liberal!" or "You misspelled that word?" Then now's your chance.

Take your time. Call yourself whatever you want. We're always open.

(If anyone missed the beginning of this thread, check out the appearance of "Anti Chris" in the comments here. Just scroll down until you get to the part where someone deals with the whole problem of Katrina, with all its complexities, in a few sentences about personal responsibility and that'll be him.)

Good Night and Good Luck

With "Good Night and Good Luck," George Clooney seems to be interested in not cluttering his film with manufactured drama, but to get right to what made Edward R. Murrow the gold standard for journalism. In keeping with this, he makes the unique decision to not use an actor for Joe McCarthy, but actual footage of the Senator in action. And he also gets right to the best part, David Straithairn's amazing, simple intonations of Murrow's "See It Now" commentary.

The effect is that we don't get merely a modern dramatic interpretation of the McCarthy / Murrow story, but a simple narrative of Murrow's battles with not only McCarthy but CBS. Thanks for that, George.

At the showing we went to, there was spontaneous applause at the end of three of Murrow's monologues. George Clooney's movie might be a bit heavy on montage, but he deserves heaps of credit for bringing us the exact words of this extraordinary newsman at a time when we deperately need to hear them again.

Count 'Til You Hear the Thunder

Everyone knows the trick of how to tell if the storm is coming towards you or moving away - after you see the lightning, start counting until you hear the thunder. If you can count higher every time, it's moving away.

There seems to be a similar time-delay reaction between bad news for the Bush administration and scary terror alerts. Only the storm seems to be staying right in place over our house.

Something happens to give the Bush people a jolt, and two days later, ALMOST TO AN INCIDENT, a terror alert is issued.

In the most recent example, although NY authorities had knowledge of a threat to their subway system, they were asked by federal sources to withhold the announcement a few days. And then Rove was called to testify before Fitzgerald's grand jury. Bush gave his speech on terror, and then - WHAMMO! Specific info that the terr'ists were going to target the trains.

This sort of thing is not a surprise to anyone anymore. I've heard it referenced in more than one comedy routine in the past year. But to give some perspective, Ken Olbermann at MSNBC has indexed thirteen such instances. In every case, the two-day delay between poll dip and terror alert is borne out.

The text of Olbermann's column is here, and video (courtesy of Crooks and Liars) here.

DEAR AMERICA:

YOU KNOW, THIS ALMOST SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING THAT MIGHT BE WORTH A SECOND OF YOUR ATTENTION. BUT NO! DON'T GET UP! NO NEED TO BOTHER YOURSELF! YOU JUST GO ON ENJOYING THE GAME, I'M SURE THIS WILL WORK ITSELF OUT SOMEHOW. NOTHING TO SEE HERE! PRAISE THE LORD AND PASS THE CHIPS!

Todd From Marketing Finds The Hidden Coin Level

Tom Delay Explains His Indictment

From DeLay launches media blitz to counter prosecutor, indictments on CNN.com:

He's right - that's a lot of hate focused on poor Tom. Hard to explain, when you consider the amazing things they've been able to accomplish since they've been in the majority:

This is just the list I've made of the negatives. To be fair, I should also call out some of the positives:

Why Slate Article Headlines Annoy Me

Because they're always in the same sensational style:

Note to My Doctor Concerning the Ergonomics Brochures Given to Me Yesterday When I Mentioned My Back Pain

When I come in and say I have pulled a neck muscle, and it's something that happens periodically, and in response you hand me some xeroxed sheets listing Common Facts About Ergonomics - that is the equivalent of you completely ignoring me.

I'd rather you just tell me to suck it up and take the pain like a man than give me that stuff.

Just so you know, I wasn't trying to hint around to get a scrip for the hard stuff. You probably realized that after I requested a recommendation for an over the counter remedy the next time I do pull a muscle and am unable to turn my head for two days.

I mean, a remedy other than maintaining a 30 degree angle between my field of vision and the monitor, as helpfully illustrated in your brochure.

Carlin's New Orleans Rant

This got sent around in email this weekend. It's a rant by George Carlin on the New Orleans stuff. Yeah! He'll set it straight! YOU TELL 'EM, GEORGE!

Ha ha! Carlin's Hurricane Rules! This is going to be good! (I think.)

Ha! HA! HA! Ha... ha? Hmmm. Wait.

That doesn't sound like Carlin, really. Don't blame the government? We don't want to hear it if you don't have a car? I... hmmm. Oh well, let's keep going.

Well. The words NOT THE GOVERNMENT'S FAULT coming from George Carlin. I suppose all things are possible. But it also seems a little... heartless for him.

Somehow, the Just a Place for Your Stuff routine isn't as good, when the place in question is underwater. Hmmm. George? Is that really you? I mean, I can see a LITTLE bit of crotchetiness with the looting, but the Carlin I know is a bit more of a populist, really.

You know, not only is it not really funny at all, it's also sort of poorly written. I... I just don't think that's George.

OK, it's official. This is NOT George Carlin. Not the famous comedian George Carlin, anyway. Maybe someone found his dumber, Republican namesake somewhere? I'll going to spare you the rest.

I was suspicious by the end of #1, so I went to Carlin's site. What would you guess is at the top?

He seems pretty laid back about it. I'd be furious, but then what are you going to do? And anyone that knows Carlin should be able to spot it as a fake fairly quick.

What kind of person writes this and then tries to pass it along as a Carlin rant? The kind that looks at Katrina and New Orleans and wonders why people just didn't leave, I suppose.

Back to you, Tina

What is the term in the broadcast news world for that last line a field reporter says before sending it back to the anchors in the news room? The one where they pause ever so slightly right before the end, and then say something to wrap it all up on a wry, ironic note?

I'm going to guess it's something like The Zinger, or Eyeball. Or maybe The Snap! or the Oh No You Di-in't.

Al Gore's Speech

From Talking Points Memo:

I Dance the Dance of Shame

Due to an innate physical awkwardness and a crippling sense of politeness that weighs me down like a lodestone, I often find myself doing that little awkward two-step when I try to walk past people in a tight corridor. He goes right, I go right. Try again - he goes left, I go left. Uh oh. Repeat. Repeat.

Usually it's just the equivalent of a little two-man Vaudeville soft-shoe interlude that's embarassing but over in seconds. But I just came back from a record Dance of Shame incident that seemed to go on forever. Compared to the usual soft-shoe this was practically a complex tango routine. I should have presented the guy with flowers when we finally broke free.

And all the worse because it was in the bathroom.

What is wrong with me? I see that I'm approaching someone, and in my head I say STAY TO THE RIGHT STAY TO THE RIGHT, YOU'LL BE OK IF YOU STAY TO THE RIGHT, but then the moment comes and I step aside a bit to let him pass, but he does too, then I go in, but he does too, then we both step aside, then he moves to his left, AND THAT'S MY RIGHT AND THAT'S WHERE I WAS GOING TO PASS, and now I'm confused and embarassed and suddenly we're doing a little dance. I always end up mumbling an apology because it's clear that I'm the one that started it.

I'm telling you this was the longest recorded Dance of Shame in history. God, I thought we were going to have to call someone to help us break free of the loop. It was so complex I should have been wearing sequins and a ball gown. I can never look this guy in the face again.

Serenity

I somehow have managed to miss all of Joss Whedon's oeuvre so far. I've seen bits and pieces of a few "Buffy" episodes, maybe two "Angels," and a few minutes of "Firefly." I'm not bragging that I've been able to resist it in the face of so many friends being die-hard fans. I'm not one of those people that disdains something if it seems really popular. I understand that it's a gap in my pop culture exposure.

I like to say that I try not to get hooked on shows because TV execs have repeatedly slapped me down for it, moving or canceling a show just after I've become attached, but I think the reality is more that my attention span has just been whittled away by the Internet. I have trouble sitting still at the same time every week, and in these post-Tivo times I miss a lot.

I have to admit to a 2% hope that "Serenity" would be no good at all. The die-hard Whedon fans intone the legends of their saviour's suffering at the hands of unbelieving executives ad nauseum, and I sometimes feel it my obnoxious duty to point out that he has hardly been the first in all of entertainment history to be dragged around, misunderstood and abused. I also feel some measure of sympathy for anyone who didn't immediately apprehend the whole vision and arc of a character named "Buffy" who was also a vampire slayer. I mean, I think I'd picture the Kristy Swanson movie too.

But it seems "Serenity" will be my entry point into the World o' Whedon (or at least the "Firefly" DVDs) because it is a complete, exciting, funny, dramatic sci-fi tale of the type that we haven't seen in a while. You can enjoy the whole movie without having any background from the show at all (all I had was the oft-repeated chorus of how Fox screwed him over). There is an interesting backstory to these characters and their situation but you don't need it; more likely if this is your kind of thing you already know it or you'll be asking for it yourself like I was.

Whedon makes many smart choices in the movie: When you think about it, the "Reivers" are really nothing more than zombies, which we've seen before, but by modulating what and when we see them, they become dreaded and ominous; The mercenaries aboard the ship sometimes use a sort of futuristic frontier slang which, had it not been executed perfectly, would have been laughable; I learn from a friend who's a fan that the reason they curse in Chinese is because China and the U.S. were the last remaining superpowers at this point in the Serenity timeline.

"Mal" could be compared to another science-fiction mercenary with a battered ship, but he is very much his own character, a man who has an interesting code and interesting contradictions. The film is smartly written, solid, and exciting - a rare movie treat.

A History of Violence

There is nothing in this movie that is not done more thoroughly and to greater effect in "The Unforgiven." Imagine if William Munny's wife had still been around and she had no idea that her husband was a notorious thief, and killer of men, women, and children - and there you have the basic plot of "History of Violence."

The movie takes a few efforts to send us down a blind alley of identity confusion, even making a slight feint towards some sort of split personality idea, but it's all a ruse. It ends up being much less than its title promises - a surpringly unsophisticated tale of men who use violence without much consequence.

Because I like Viggo Mortensen, I am sad to say that he does not give a shining performance in this film. Unfortunately it was flat to the point that I wondered if he was the right man for the job. Never are we given a hint that he is anything other than what wife Mario Bello thinks he is. After his cover is blown there might have been a slight change in inflection to his voice, nothing more.

In contrast, everything comes alive when Ed Harris comes onscreen, and his take on the scarred mobster Fogarty is so oddly (yet effectively) cartoony that in his scenes the movie seems full of promise, as if it's not just about a man's violent past catching up with him, but about some alternate comic book dimension intruding on small town reality. Another performance to call out: Ashton Holmes as the teenage son.

Is this going to be one of those films that fans maintain exists to show the true consequences of violence? No, that movie would be, again, "Unforgiven," or "Dead Man Walking." Tom Stall is forced to confront his violent past, but it seems to me that through more violence he pretty much overcomes it. The sequences of Stall defending himself are slick and emotionally satisfying. Tom was supposed to be a mobster but seasoned C.I.A. operative or master ninja is more like it. He doesn't just put his attacker down on the ground, he twists their arm around with lots of crunching sounds, then puts them down and then stomps on their neck; or karates them so effectively and repeatedly in the nose that the cartilage is shoved up into their brain. (Twice after he is done the camera looks down at someone's ruined face, and I'm thinking, was this guy's mob nickname "Overkill?")

I know we're supposed to be concerned that the son is using violence inappropriately when he stands up to the bullies - but is he really? Seems to me they deserved the professional ass-kicking he gave them, case closed. Are we supposed to feel guilty for rooting him on?