The Sounds of Silent Cocktails

SO YESTERDAY THERE was a little cocktail-party-y thing on the set of The Border. Ostensibly, this media event by the PR company Media Profile was put together to try to bump some coverage for the show, post-launch – and also to celebrate an addition to the cast of The Border, Grace Park (Battlestar Galactica.)

Having the thing in situ was a reasonable idea. There’s something about sets that are kind of funky and cool if you’re not around them all the time. And the “ICS Locale” -- really the disused Port Authority Rochester Ferry Terminal (now used for its primary purpose – passenger unloading and customs, only a couple times a year) does have a pretty spectacular view of the Toronto skyline.

Unfortunately, we were running a tiny bit behind yesterday. Director Brett Sullivan and the crew were working hard to get coverage of the monitors in the tech area right after crew lunch – the first half hour of which overlapped with the cocktail party.

So now you have to picture the scene: there are servers and a bartender, and some of the actors who aren’t in the scene are meeting and greeting the intimate group of attendees. (this was not the usual Toronto PR clusterfuck where, you know, you’ve got people with no connection to the biz rubbing shoulders with that P.A. from the dance station, the blogger from Boats & Fish.blogspot.com, that dude who was the host of that thing about ten years ago, the PhD student from Concordia, the random agent who reps ten people you’ve never heard of, that guy in the hat, and the fugly sociopath who writes for [insert publication here]
Oh, and then the drag queens arrive and nobody can quite figure out what they’re doing there.)

So, you’ve got Gillian on walkie there at the entrance door to ICS, and every few minutes she says, “Rolling, quiet please” and the chatter on the floor, as people just sip their wine, just stops. Dead. At a cocktail party.

It was one of the funniest, most gloriously Canadian things I’ve ever seen. Somebody tells a group of people – who all are drinking alcohol, remember – to please be quiet for a minute, and lo and behold, it happens. Silence. You could hear a pin drop. One of the servers had just been asked what the so-and-so was, and I swear to Mike I saw her try to explain what was on the tray entirely in mime.

I told a couple of people that it wasn’t a cocktail party at all – that they were now part of some art installation. Somebody said they saw Banksy outside with a few cans of spray paint.

The crew got their takes, and moved on to another part of the terminal, dressed to look like an airport lounge.
Meanwhile, back at the soiree, I was now into full field spotting mode. For those of you making your way gently in the early stages of your media career, here is the field spotting guide to Canadian P.R. events:

In the corner, you will find scriptus serius. These are the common TV writers. They are there only for the command performance aspect of it. They talk mainly to each other, about other things, blissful in the knowledge that there is absolutely no way whatsoever that anyone will wish to speak to them. There is much dissection of the various types of hors’ d’oeuvres, and the relative merits of each. Eventually, the writers will scatter – one will go to a play, one to a screening, and the remaining one will toddle back to set having had two (ish) glasses of wine to guiltily watch the crew work. The buzz will wear off somewhere around nine, when he will find himself shivering outside on Cherry Beach, watching Nick Campbell smoke.

Interviewus Big Getus is the star people are there to talk to. She will be charming, and introduce herself when there’s no one there to lead her. She will disappear to do one on ones every few minutes with this camera crew or that one, and just generally show how it’s to be done. The writers in the corner will look upon her as an exotic and different species, because, let’s face it, she is. The relation between the two groups is only similar on the DNA level.

Printus Reportorius just keeps jotting everything down in his notebook. He never looks up. Ever.

Savvius Thespius is the cast member who always manages to be talking to the most important person in the room. They also get in all the pictures. It’s uncanny.

Flackus Professionalus are the P.R. people. They all have ponytails. They smile a lot and are enthusiastic and nice when you talk to them. They have suspiciously nice teeth. They guard their screener DVD’s like leprechaun’s gold. (They are also not to be confused with Communicatoris Directorius, who works directly for the Production and who I apparently owe a burger at that-watering-hole-I-like-to-go-to.)

Classiest Beenaroundtheblockius is the cast member who asks you to borrow twenty bucks, only to go over and put it in a glass in front of the Bartender to tip them and all the servers. Classy. (Especially when he indeed repays the 20, as promised, the next day.)

Networkius Promosaurus are the promotion types at the network. They are wonderful and mythical creatures who always have clean, strong teeth and perfect hair and shower lots and lots and lots of shiny promo time on the show like beneficent and golden gryphons. They may also provide ad copy to the papers. The cutlines are always awesome, and the names of the shows’ characters are always spelled right.

So, there you go. Promo in action. It’s a dirty business, but hey, it’s a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll.

Wish you could have seen the silent cocktail party. That was something else entirely.

My Next Border Pony. Um. No. Episode. Right. Episode. I don't secretly love Ponies. Really.

OH HERE'S SOMETHING. This is the preview for my next episode of THE BORDER, on CBC this coming Monday night at 9pm. Like the first ep I did, Ep.2, this one's directed by Michael DeCarlo, who I also worked with on ACROSS THE RIVER TO MOTOR CITY.





That's an interesting promo because it doesn't really reflect the change of pace ep this is supposed to be. Almost like CBC promo was afraid of it. Something else they were afraid of? Three letters: FLQ.

That's right. Next week on The Border, we actually tackle a domestic Canadian terrorist group.

Funny how that's not in the promo.

(by the way, just to be clear....I know why it's not in the promo. I just think it's interesting.)

The Old Rumply Bumply

SO. OVER THE next few days it strikes me that I'm going to hit a milestone. Something I've never done before. The first sex scene I wrote is going to be committed to film.

Well, I mean, it's not the first one. It'll be the first one produced. But, you know what? It's not even that much of a milestone.

Because what I learned was this:

Writing a sex scene is like writing an action scene. Which is to say it's like being the date of a supermodel.

Oh man, it is so NOT about you.

Sex scenes, action scenes, they're directors' areas. The only voice the writer really has in any of that, is context. What does it mean?

I'm not concerned about what happens, who does what, goes where, holds whatever, what the motion is, exactly how the earth moves, or the bedspread tears, or the breakaway bed shatters, or anything else like that in the whole world. I just. don't. care. I care about context. I can so far as to say something like, "I want this to be about two people who have been together a few times, and it's not just sex anymore, and that's a little scary." But then, I'm done. To me that scene is about what the actors and the director wants to bring about it. I don't know. Is that weird?

In any case, Jill Golick's got a good post up about some memorable sex scenes in TeeVee. Well worth your read. Go and comment.

If you think I'm vamping, oh yeah. I am. Guilty. Day six of eight for my last ep of The Border, but from here on in we're at home base. I'm happy to be winding down. And I love being on set. My God, people work so very, very hard. I have thoughts on the writer on set and how they can be un-useless, and even improve their stock by learning to be production friendly... but those posts will start next week.

I am giddy at the thought of sleep, and free time, and also, um...I don't know...socializing. We'll see.

For now...Handwaving, handwaving, handwaving...

Then, At Least, We Could Have Bought Our Own Sweaters.

FIFTY-EIGHT PERCENT of Canadians bothered to vote yesterday. 58. Lowest total ever. On the one hand, can't blame them. We've had three federal elections in four years. That's not great. But it does raise the question, with twenty-one million eligible voters, and an election campaign that costs about 240 million dollars a pop, wouldn't it just have been easier to give everyone who voted last time twenty bucks?

Just sayin.

See you in the election of 2010. Or not.

Vote you Varmint

NO POST TODAY. Go the polls. Do your duty, or don't complain about anything that happens starting tomorrow.

Horn O'Plenty on the Tee Vee Tonight.

BLEARY EYED. THREE hours sleep -- the sleep goddess she giveth and she taketh away -- before I drive off to my "just another workday" Thanksgiving, I would be remiss if I didn't point out that with a little VCR Shuffling, you can have yourself a heckuva good homegrown TV night to night -- the better to digest your mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie with. Mmm. Pumpkin pie.

First, at 9:30 pm on CTV -- it's hard to believe that there's only 19 more visits to Dog River, Sask. But there you go. The venerable and much loved Corner Gas returns for its final season. If you can't get enough Gas (yes, yes, I'm 12) etalk has a special tribute show at 7pm.

Then, at 10:30 on Citytv -- a rare original series entry from the now Rogers-controlled group of five stations. Less Than Kind is a funny and scabrous family comedy set in Winnipeg. It stars Maury Chaykin (who really needs to STFU about Little Mosque in every interview he gives about the show) as the put upon patriarch, and Jesse Camacho as the preternaturally wise teenage son, Sheldon. The show, created by my friends (full disclosure) Marvin Kaye and Chris Sheasgreen, is also lucky to have former Kid in the Hall Mark McKinney showrunning. I hope to have a bigger feature on this show in the weeks ahead, but for now, here's what I wrote about it when I saw a screening earlier this year.

Finally, time to go back and set that PVR/VCR -- because I know you don't want to miss tonight's thrilling and vurra kina sexy episode of The Border. (9pm, CBC)

(I'd link to the trailer here on Youtube, but it isn't up there, because I didn't nag them to put it up there this week. Sigh. Canadian Tv. In a miraculous turn of events, though, you actually can see the trailer on the CBC website.)

As you gather round the hearth to recriminate, argue about the relative merits of the new Hockey Night in Canada theme, and out cousin Timmy, make time for the TeeVee, won't you?

Much obliged.

Thankful

WRITERS RUN DARK. That's just part of the gig. But as an unseasonably warm autumn continues and extends, I find the mood that has of late run indigo lightening several shades.

To Americans struggling with the credit crisis, and the apparently buried story that the whole idea of investing directly in banks was suggested by Democrats three weeks ago and roundly rejected by Republicans, (but oh no, both sides are equally to blame for the mucking about, right?....wait ... no... colored leaves. Pie. mmm.)

--anyway, yeah, the finish of that thought is that tomorrow in Canada is Thanksgiving. I look ahead over the next few weeks and see my workload lightening (and the commeasurate instinct and jones to begin new projects) and one naturally pauses to think about what you're thankful for.

• First and foremost this year, I've made and deepened a lot of important friendships by throwing myself headlong into my industry, and giving up on the notion of keeping my work and my social circle separate. Yup. It means a lot of shop talk, but usually you can push past that. My writer friends are funny, and literate and odd, and they have passionate opinions that somehow never fully embrace the orthodox. They keep me on my toes, and in the end, can you ask for anything better from your friends?
  
  
• I'm thankful and humbled by getting a bit of recognition from my peers, with the Canadian Screenwriting Award I won in April, as well as the Gemini nomination I picked up recently for Across The River To Motor City. It really is nice just to be nominated. I thought that was a cliche, but no...
  
  
• I'm thankful to see other friends experience success, whether it be one of my oldest friends Mark, who along with his wife Stephanie created Flashpoint, a show that's received a bit of attention this year. There's also my friend Marvin Kaye, who's managed to have himself quite a Canadian Thanksgiving weekend -- welcoming a daughter with his wife Marla yesterday, and birthing another baby tomorrow night, when his series Less than Kind (co-created with Chris Sheasgreen, and showrun by Mark McKinney, premieres on Citytv (10:30 pm.)
  
  
• I'm thankful for the opportunity to serve other writers in Canada by trying to make our lot better, through the Writers Guild of Canada Council. Everyone on council really is as nice as Maureen said they were.
  
  
• I'm thankful that the new Hockey Night in Canada theme actually doesn't suck. CTV may have nyah-nyah rights to the old song, but we're still waiting for you to step up and give us a venerable institution like HNIC, especially now that the one you fluked into is going off the air...
  
  
• I'm thankful that a long-ago post "How Corner Gas Ruined Everything," continues to be discovered about once a week by Americans, presumably who've Googled the show and landed on this blog. I'm thankful for that, because the comments that come from the American viewers inevitably offer a perspective that I find familiar, that I wish was available here more often: a generosity of spirit and praise, and context. Take this recent comment by "Big Joe Rice,"
  
  

  "We've recently discovered Corner Gas on WGN Chicago and are addicted - but then we love Red Green too. The ensemble cast has a subtlety and timing usually associated with the better Britcoms. I'm surprised to read that Canadians prefer the crap that comes up from south of the border when clearly they have plenty of talent at home. You'd watch According to Jim over Corner Gas? Too many slap shots to the head by the sound of that."

• I'm thankful that every time I get feeling that I'm too negative, there's a ready example waiting to show me that, shit, son, I'm not even close to how low can you go? (Check out any of the boards where anonymous idiots bitch about the CBC if you don't believe me.)
  
  
• I'm thankful that I just got to mail off my absentee ballot voting for Barack Obama for President of the United States, and that it looks like it might actually mean something.
  
  
• I'm thankful that every once in a while, even though I've mostly been turning down story editing work, I get to read a script by a friend that actually excites me with its possibilities, and reminds me why I love screenwriting. It's nice to read a script and feel that rush of possibility. Where'd you go?
  
  
• I'm thankful that in a precarious business, I've worked hard enough and been lucky enough to make a little bit of money and buy my parents a decent TV.
  
  
• I'm not thankful about having to deal with Rogers customer service. But who is?
  
  
• I'm thankful for an agent who returns my calls, even though that's the way it should work, I know. But still.
  
  
• I'm thankful that the Reform-a-tories withdrew that stupid provision in Bill C10, and that people like Mark Leiren-Young can write summations that are so much more clear-headed than Harper's inane mixed-Noah's Ark metaphors. No matter what happens Tuesday, there will be some of us that they'll have to kill by looking us in the eye. I'm talking to you, sweaterhead. You're a punk.
  
  
• I'm thankful that This Hour Has 22 Minutes is back, and sharp, and funny. And I was thankful for that even before I got a nice note from Geri Hall, Ms. Avery Adams. Hubba!
  
  
• I'm thankful for other people who understand why culture, and homegrown TV, is important. Whichever way things ultimately go, we fought a good fight.
  
  
• Finally, I'm thankful for every joke that gets through, and every minute of finished film I don't hate, and every note that goes into a script with my name on it that makes me look smarter and cleverer, and for the opportunity to do the thing that I always wanted to do. And for all my readers, weirdoes and lurkers that you are, I'm thankful for you too.