The Great Defector

Blogging ebbs, blogging flows. Mostly ebbing lately.

Because I've been busy. Mucho time spent helping Chris Isaak and David Byrne file stolen identity complaints.

I don't know enough to argue

Really interesting essay with one dude's take on the future of the entertainment industry.

Good Times

Here's a first-hand, inside, way too accurate look into the current "profession" of screenwriting. For the complete picture, crawl through the comments, as well. Especially CP's.

Check out the post from The Artful Writer.

It was the music

Everyone alive in 1985 knows that John Hughes shaped the middle part of the decade for a lot of people.

But it was his spot-on knack for new music -- alternative or college radio that was only available via MTV's 120 Minutes -- that was the foundation of it all.

Pretty in Pink used this (so did Ferris, I think).


Sixteen Candles benefited immensely from this.


This defined Ferris.


Even Planes Trains and Automobiles pulled great music out of it's ass. Remember Book Of Love?


This single handedly saved She's Having A Baby.


Pretty in Pink may have set the gold standard.




And the obvious anthem.

New Rancid

Picks right up where Indestructible left off. Which is a very good thing.

Nice to know I wasn't being paranoid simply because I was certain Dick Cheney had designs on martial law.


Also, Mr. Greenwald gets points for consistency:

"All of this underscores why it is so important to vigorously oppose the efforts of the Obama administration (a) to continue many of the radical Bush/Cheney Terrorism programs and even to implement new ones (preventive detention, military commissions, extreme secrecy policies, warrantless surveillance, denial of habeas corpus) and (b) to endorse the core Orwellian premise that enables all of that (i.e., the "battlefield" is anywhere and everywhere; the battle against Terrorism is a "War" like the Civil War or World War II and justifies the same powers)."

Cabin Fever

Apparently this is what happens when you spend an entire winter in Minnesota.

Strictly Game

I've got Harlem Shakes in heavy rotation. Make a little money, take a lot of shit, feel real bad, and get over it. Sounds like a plan.

Effin' Beautiful

Recent Nikki Finke post confirms what every middling screenwriter already new.

"It's crazy how shitty the spec market has been this year, especially given what a debacle 2007 and 2008 were," a source tells me.

But as one who's developed a spec script with some producers who are prepping to take it to the studios in the very near future, there are some words you don't like to read. Words like "piss-poor" and "2009" and "development".

And you really don't like to read them in this order:

"The rest of the 2009 studio development business is in piss-poor shape."

Read her full post here.

Sounds about right

For those of you wondering how movies take that straight, obstacle free road from idea to completed project, this seems pretty much spot on.

Back To Work

Only took 17 months of WGA strike, SAG uncertainty, economic meltdown, and an actual SAG strike authorization vote.

The Artful Writer sums it up best.

Let's Run It By Marketing

Been thinking about an element from a John August post a couple months ago. I didn't say I'd been thinking quickly.

His post is a recap of a WGA panel discussion, in which one of the panelists weighed in on how amazingly important the title of a script is.

"If you can pitch and understand it as a title, it’s gigantic. If you can sell it with a logline, great. If you need a paragraph, you’re in trouble."

Can you understand the movie as a title? Can I get my chickpea sized brain around the story simply by seeing the poster? Do I get it?

Which got me thinking about movies that have -- based on that criteria -- nailed their titles.

Knocked Up. I get it. I know what it's about. Someone got pregnant. And it's funny.
40-Year-Old Virgin. Dude's forty. And he's a virgin.
Wedding Crashers. Dudes go to weddings. And they weren't invited. I need to see that.
Lassie Come Home. Lassie's not home. We want her home. Heartstrings. Tugged.

By contrast, there are titles that require me to sit through an entire movie just to decide if I want to see the movie. Like I have time for that.

A Bridge Too Far. Then start with something closer. Duh.
From Here To Eternity. And divide by zero. Is this a trick question?
Dr. Zhivago. Dude could be a dermatologist. I don't get it.
Casablanca. Casa-what?

Bonus points if you can do it in one word.
Big
Titanic
Jaws
Speed

Points deducted if it takes you a complete sentence.

Honey, I Shrunk The Kids
So I Married An Ax Murderer
Dude, Where's My Car?
I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Which leads to the best titles of all time (that I came up with in 45 seconds).

Ghostbusters
Star Wars
Back To The Future
Planet Of The Apes. It's a planet. Of apes.

Soundtrack to the Summer

The early leader for Soundtrack to the Summer honors is going to Fanfarlo.

Sort of a less spastic Clap Your Hands Say Yeah meets David Byrne (which sort of goes without saying since Clap spliced some of David's DNA) meets Arcade Fire.

Say Hi...

Similar to my Parts & Labor scribblings, I found three or four of my own jottings mentioning the band/dude Say Hi...

Start with Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh and Elouise (play button in bottom right).

Coming Soon...

The clock starts now. Which story gets set up as a pitch first?

"We go all Benjamin Button on this shit. CG Sandler's face to a baby. Forget the metaphorical man/child -- we've got the real thing!"

OR

"It's Shia leading a Sneakers meets War Games Revenge of the Nerds thing."


Actually, maybe I should take a look at that second one.

Apply Gun To Foot

I would actually be inclined to like their late eighties Smiths meets John Hughes meets Aztec Camera teen drama pop. Except they went and gave themselves the douchiest band name ever.

College Prep

Missouri mother disappointed to learn that kids these days are both pussies and narcs.

Oh, great

Now I have to gouge out my mind's eye.

Even More Last

So the Farrelley Brothers have set up their long developed Three Stooges movie at MGM. And the last three people -- the very last people -- you expect to be playing Mo, Larry, and Curly are...?

No, seriously, not those last three. The really really really last three.

Titus Andronicus

I'm assuming the sweat sprayed on the first couple rows tastes like bourbon.