A Reader Writes: "Your Partner Becomes the Moment?" HUH?

Yesterday I posted a bit of wisdom that Cherry Jones related about acting monologues, and said that it could apply equally to writing. Jones was quoting her castmate Jonathan Kent, and here's what he/she said:

“When you’re onstage with other actors,” he said, “the cardinal rule is to listen always, to be alive to what other actors are saying. But when you are doing a monologue, your partner becomes the moment.”

To which reader-of-the-blog Anna replied:

"Your partner becomes the moment”? I don't even understand this."

Fair enough.

What Jones is talking about is actor's process. It's often precious, but the real-world example I can come up with is this: we all know certain people who we feel, deep down, don't listen. The old two-types of people-in-the-world trope says that there are people who listen to what you're saying, and follow a conversation, and people who are mainly using the time that you're talking to formulate what they're going to say next. Ie: they're not really listening to you, they're ordering their own thoughts, and processing your auditory information primarily as cues to when they can communicate next.

This is a bad, bad habit. It drives everyone crazy. We all know how much more satisfying it is to have a conversation with someone who "is a good listener." There have been countless jokes about how men do this more often, or how women do it more often, which to me is the perfect indicator of the fact that people in both genders do it way too much. Even people who are "good listeners" find themselves in the position of focusing on what they want to say next, sometimes. It's a bad habit, yes, but it's also a natural one.

Acting is about creating a facsimile of human experience. And paradoxically, that means that to be effective, you have to excise a behavior that a lot of us do every day. On a mechanical level, actors know what their next line is. It's been memorized. It's cued by the other actor's previous line -- so they know what they're going to say next, and they know what the other person is going to say next, too. (I know, it sounds like a lot of marriages, right?) But what Jones is saying is you can't act that way. You have to listen to the nuance of what the person is doing in a conversation -- you have to feel the words and the flow of conversation just as if you were really listening to the person and didn't know what they were going to say next. Yes, it's the same conversation every night (if you're doing theater) -- but at the same time, it's not. If that sounds confusing, well, then now you know why so many actors are so crazy. I give actors a lot of stick here, but what they do is very hard. (And, irony of ironies, one of the great frustrating things about many of them is that they work so hard to be in the moment when they're on stage, and spend every off-stage conversation they have thinking of what they're going to say next. The Human Comedy. It's a bitch.)

Now. The second part of Jones' theory is about what happens on stage when you don't have another actor there to play off.

The Monologue is a very theatrical concept. It doesn't happen in real life at all, among the non-schizophrenic of us. We speak of "talking to ourselves" but for most of us that's going to be, at best, a couple of anguished self-admonishments. Conscience may make cowards of us all, but we don't go around saying that to ourselves very often. Not out loud, anyway.

So how do you create something on stage and make it real, when the very thing you're doing is artificial, without a real life equivalent?

Well, Jones' solution is to treat the moment that you're in like it's the other player. You become aware of your words in space. The time they're taking, the weight of them moving through space and time. You don't think of what you have to say next, just as you don't do that in a scene. Instead, you feel each line, each thought -- really feel it -- you listen to the moment before you move on.

Why is this important for writers? Because this is how a good actor is going to approach your writing. You are writing to be interpreted -- by actors, by directors... and the only way you can gauge effect is to account for this process in the midst of your process.

Some writers walk and talk their script. I think all of us should. I simply can't imagine putting something forward without having read it out loud; hearing how the words hang in the air. Where are the moments? Time in your mind is never the same as in your mouth.

Know, or at least try to anticipate, how your actors are going to play each moment. I've seen a hundred bad actors rush headlong through the "To Be or Not To Be" soliloquy, because they were intimidated by it. And I've seen actors take it painfully slowly, making a meal of every line, every word -- because they were intimidated by it, or overly reverent.

Writers can't be overly reverent toward our own material -- ever. There are lines that are meant to be thrown away. Are you communicating that? Is the shape of your scene correct, in that the 'big moment' is a clear one for the actor or the director to interpret?

(You will find actors who are perverse -- who live to subvert intent, who try to throw away big moments and make their stand on small ones. These actors are craven loogens, and you damn well better hope that the director isn't trying to sleep with them, or you're screwed. But this is also why you don't turn an understanding actor into a loogen, by parenthetically directing them on every single line and inflection.)

Accounting for how the actor must play the moment leads you to understand some things. First, it's the reason why monologue in TV is rare and is used so sparingly. Speeches that are five and six lines long take a long time to say. And if you're trying to flow them in the middle of a vibrant scene that's supposed to keep a plot moving, well, that speech better be pretty goddamn entertaining. With every line you add, you increase the chance that the actor is going to want to either make a meal of every moment, or rewrite it.

Which is why one, two, and three line dialogue patches are TV's bread and butter.

But at some point, you're going to have cause for something longer. A monologue, a voiceover over montage. Remember the actor up there, by themselves, trying to play with the moment as their scene partner. Have pity on them. And try to help them whenever you can.

Or your writing's gonna get butchered.

(ADDENDUM: from the file of trying to subtly influence how actors play your lines, I simply love this post from Jane Espenson, where she explains why it's better to not always go with the rule, and end on the joke.)

The Thing That I Don't Get

So sounds like Stephen Colbert caused a furor over the weekend at the White House Correspondents' Dinner by actually having the temerity to be funny.


You'd be forgiven if you missed the story, though. It's not like the media reported it much. Even the "ooh so liberal" NYTimes goes today with a story about Bush's routine with a lame Bush impression.

John Rogers lays it out pretty well in this post.

And Glenn Greenwald had this to say:

One of the principal tactics used over the last five years by Bush defenders to transform the president, our public servant, into some sort of monarchical figure is the endless, craven effort to refer to him as "The Comamnder-in-Chief," in order to implicitly bestow upon him an aura of elevated, militaristic glory which renders not only disrespect towards the President, but also mere criticism of him, somehow inappropriate, even unpatriotic. In that regard, it was extremely refreshing to see Stephen Colbert's stand-up routine last night (video here - transcript here) at the White House Correspondent's Dinner. Pam Spaulding provides an excellent discussion of that event, as does Joe Gandelman.

As Pam notes, a commenter at the site of Jonah's mom, Lucianne Goldberg, said that "Steve Colbert was utterly disgusting. . . He was rude, snarky and unpatriotic toward the President and First Lady." One can be unpatriotic towards one's country, but not to the Leader, and certainly not by expresing criticism of the Leader, even to his face. The efforts to shield the President from criticisms of any sort has been one of the most significant factors enabling the lawbreaking pathology of this president, who clearly has come to see himself as a shielded king. The belief that an American citizen is unpatriotic by virtue of criticizing and opposing the president is one of the most pernicious ideas to take hold in some time. What Colbert did took real courage and - like Savage - he should be commended for reminding us of the kind of country we are supposed to have, and the kind of country we aren't supposed to have and, until this administration, never had.

The importance or relevance of the reaction to Colbert is given new light in Greenwald's coverage of the Boston Globe article this weekend about the unitary executive's new big hit: the fact that he doesn't have to obey the law.

This is where, for the sake of argument, I throw it open to the less than one-third of my countrymen who still believe in this guy. Even if you think we are wrong to criticize him, even if you think everything he does is sweet and light, can you not step back for a second and see how this is just not good?

I know all those civics lessons about the checks and balances were pretty boring, but seriously, the breathtaking thing that just makes me wonder at the dittoheads sanity is this: if the President can take this much power for himself - don't you guys realize that one day -- someday, someone you really, really, really hate will be in that chair? Some potsmoking faggot hippie abortion lover who hates Jesus? It'll happen, kids. And he'll have the same power that your savior does - because no matter how he tries to shred the constitution, that's how precedent works.

If that gives you even a second of pause -- and it should -- then haven't you just had an accountability moment? The Problem with crowning a King is that there's always somebody worse waiting in the wings.

Sunday Randomness

Today's New York Times, Cherry Jones talks about her appearance in Brian Friel's The Faith Healer on Broadway. it's a show where four actors -- Jones, Ian McDiarmid, Ralph Fiennes and Jonathan Kent weave a story, but don't appear together until the final curtain.

"I have never done monologue or anything like it. Early on, Jonathan Kent said something important that made it easier. “When you’re onstage with other actors,” he said, “the cardinal rule is to listen always, to be alive to what other actors are saying. But when you are doing a monologue, your partner becomes the moment.”

So much of what Actors say is a load of hooey that you can fall into the trap of not realizing just how smart and insightful a lot of them are. Not only do I think the above quote is a beautiful summation of how to act a monologue -- I think it's an essential notion to how you write one.

Theater's a lot on my mind today. There's also an article on Bob Martin and Drowsy Chaperone, which I guess finally opens tomorrow.

Everybody in Toronto's thinking shiny thoughts for 'em. Break a leg at the Marquis.

Sweet, Sweet Bullion

I had no idea what I was going to write about today. I didn't have any burning subjects to cover. I could tell you about my sad, dead Powerbook. But I shouldn't expect you to care.

No, the reality is that I'm desperately doing my taxes, churning through a next draft and drinking coffee.

Then I opened the paper and read Russell Smith.

For those of you not lucky enough to be Canadian, and care about such things, Russell Smith is a Canadian writer. He's one of those pesky types who can tell you about the controversy surrounding The Giller Prize, or who's likely to be shortlisted for the Governor General's Awards this year.

Canada (and by Canada, like all Torontonians, I mean Toronto) is sweetly provincial enough that there's a whole bunch of people who chatter about things like literary awards. They see each other at CBC Radio soirees, and furrow their highbrows and if they want to be puckish, every once in a while they throw in a line or two about Don Cherry, and the hockey. For the people, you know.

There's a whole, larger group of media hound types out here that look on this benighted and blinkered group with no end of amusement. It's not that we don't read some of those books, or even listen to CBC Radio sometimes. We just know not to fall into the trap of thinking that we represent Canada, or that our taste is influential beyond the kind of people snaffing canapes at all the book launches we go to. We know that more people thumb through the stereo ads in the Toronto Sun every day than ever read The Globe & Mail. And we know that, though the Globe & Mail bills itself as "Canada's National Newspaper," outside of Toronto they derisively call it "Toronto's National Newspaper," and anyway, all the best articles are the ones they cadge from the Guardian and the New York Times.

There is one thing the Mop & Pail does really well, though: they know how to pick their really annoying columnists. And none more so than Russell Smith.

Smith, as I said before, is a writer. He wrote one novel a few years ago that wasn't awful. Lately, I gather, his sales have gotten a bit more dire. Chiefly he's known for writing his column in the Globe. Russell Smith is the kind of guy who knows exactly what kind of tie you should be wearing this week. He can wax rhapsodic on the subject of a good shave, or the value of cufflinks, or how the lychee martini is starting to wear out its welcome.

In other words, he's kind of a fop. Wait. No. Maybe he's a dandy. Damnit. I get those two things confused.

The other thing that Smith is unfailingly, is cranky. He's a real sourboots. And he doesn't mind who he offends, unless, you know, it's one of those people whose ass he has to kiss at the next book launch.

The nice thing about being a fop with a 'tude is that a few times a year, Smith just goes off and writes a column that's an utter, unmitigated hissy fit. Last year, famously, he wrote a wonderfully misanthropic bit about the horror of modern moviegoing that was breathtaking for both its utter pretentiousness and an almost radioactive level of narcissism.

Well, this morning, Russell took on Canadian TV. That's right, kids. He waded into the Sticks.

The screed is hilarious and awful, especially the way it spins out near the end -- and it oozes (incredibly, unbelievably) misplaced jealously from every comma. It, stupidly, like most Globe columnist content is behind a pay-firewall -- but you can sometimes get around that by searching through Google. This, by far, is my favorite quote:

When did I start expecting TV to be good? I suppose it was after the rise of the risqué or specialty cable channels, and shows with swearing in them. It started for me, probably, with The Larry Sanders Show, the first TV comedy I saw that had any kind of edge.

And then I came to Toronto, where everybody is involved with the making of television or movies. I noticed that TV people write a half-hour of television in two weeks and then get paid by fleets of dump trucks carrying gold bullion.

Gold Bullion. Seriously. I thought I was going to wet my pants.

Smith cruises onward, coming to his main point (I think) that the writing in Canadian shows is pretty good, but the acting is bad. (Sometimes he's right about this, but let's face it, most things that turn out crap are usually a combo of the holy trinity: writing's off, acting's off, directing's off.)

He gets splenetic about actors and their shorcomings, with enough paragraphs so that I had time in the reading to go into a sort of fugue state where I tried to imagine the real root of his dyspepsia. I think it's probably that there are a lot of actors at those parties he goes to, and they keep people from noticing writers like Russell, who are far more deserving of praise and canapes and klieg lights than the 2nd chick lead from Billable Hours.

After spinning his gears with his Strasberg-destroying theory of acting, he comes to a frothy end:

You have two actors, you sedate them heavily, you shoot a two-shot of them saying their lines, you leave it alone. Deadpan is always funnier than clownish, because it seems more real. This is why I like Ken Finkleman so much. But we can't have Finkleman directing every Canadian TV show. I wouldn't mind, actually, but the fans of Corner Gas would. See, this is why I would never make it in TV. Everything I can't stand is hugely popular.

Actually, that's not always true. The execrable, typical, Canadian TV drama Godiva's was mercifully given the chop this year. I am relieved. If viewers had liked this heavy-handed, intensely "Acted" nonsense, I would have gone to live in a cave.

Maybe it's time for me to stop caring about television drama again. Maybe it is all a waste of time for grownups.

There is always much moaning in the Canadian media when bad melodramas are cancelled. It is said that we need bad Canadian television because we must "tell our own stories." But the shows that TV critics seem to want produced are simply copies of American models. They are moral tales involving pretty people in fantasy cities or fairy-tale rural environments. Those aren't "our stories": They are craven attempts to rival American entertainment in economic terms. Until we start making dramas that actually resemble real life here, I don't think we need Canadian TV much at all.

That's right, guys. Buy more books. Start caring about the Giller Awards.

For heaven's sake, can we make a new rule, that in 2006, deriding the entire medium of TV is just...what? I mean, to me, it's like the guy in 1976 insisting that fountain pens were still the only way to go. It's not even chic retro, like how David Mamet still writes on a typewriter.

In 2006, someone who preaches the creed of "TV Turnoff Week" or expresses surprise that anything on TV can be good...aren't they just, you know, a jackass? A total fist magnet? Is it me?

Anyway, it's always nice to see Canadian resentment just bubble and squeak its way to the top. I explained to a friend from San Francisco once, who thought everybody in Toronto was "tense," that I kind of liked to think of Canada as a nation of disgruntled postal workers. They're polite most of the time because that's their job, but you never know when they're going to go off. Put em into a hockey fight or Vimy Ridge, and whoa, Nellie, you got heap trouble.

By the way, Smith was also nominally writing about Billable Hours. I caught the 2nd episode last night and it was better than the first -- but I'm not sure it's good enough to sustain interest. Not a lot of laughs, and a problem with character likability -- especially Filippo's. Once again, Actors who write often fail to serve their best interests -- they think they can convey likability with their performance -- because who doesn't like me, really?

Showcase also smartly paired BH with an import from FX: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I thought it was solid, funny, if unremarkable. Better than BH, but not as weird or genre busting as, say, Stella. I know this show's aired more eps in the U.S. Any reactions?

BBC does a 'Mea Culpa'

Lee hipped me to this speech by the BBC's Director General on the future of the UK Public Broadcaster. (Guardian Unlimited, reg is prolly required.) Funny how Broadcast Executives, when they give speeches like this, all seem to say roughly the same things.

So what should we do?

· in drama, we need to build fewer titles with longer runs, more impact, more emotion - and make more brave calls like Bleak House and Dr Who;
· we need to think of mobile and other ways of using new media from the very start of the creative process - like the Dr Who Tardisodes;
· we must cherish and where necessary invest in the titles that bind us emotionally to the broadest audiences - EastEnders, Casualty, Holby · we need more drama landmarks and signature pieces on Radio 4;
· across TV and radio, the nurturing and support of outstanding writers is a key to success;
· we need to strengthen the creative pipeline for comedy across TV and radio, nurturing future BBC1 hits on 2 and taking radio hits like Dead Ringers and Little Britain and building them across platforms;
· we'll invest more consistently in comedy drama;
· and we'll relaunch the BBC comedy website;
· in entertainment too, we'll use 360 degree commissioning, interactivity, user-generated content to reengage audiences in primetime TV entertainment;
· we'll take more creative risks to build on recent BBC1 successes like Strictly Come Dancing - and we'll forge closer links with other genres like factual and leisure to deliver more hybrid hits like The Apprentice;
· above all, we need to be more courageous and confident with our entertainment. And we need to recognise the critical role of talent - on and off air - in distinguishing our content and really reacting to our audiences.

Amidst all the "respect the talent" stuff -- it will be interesting to see if the UK moves away from the Six Pack -- considering that seems to be the new rage among Canadian broadcasters. Golly, what does it all mean?

Canadian Screenwriting Awards

Astute readers will have noticed my silence the last few days and perhaps might have connected it back to the WGC's annual Screenwriting Soiree on Monday night at Brant House in Toronto.

I have it on good authority that when we made it back to the Wheatsheaf Tavern, a mere stone's throw from the party venue and my home -- I began speaking fully fluent Hungarian.

I doubt the veracity of this. I will not deny, however, that I think my agent might have paid the bill. I love my agent. Not in that way. But Still.

Sadly, even if you are in Canada, you probably didn't hear too much about the Canadian Screenwriting Awards. They don't get a lot of press. They probably don't even get anywhere near the press, per capita, as the WGA awards get south of the border.

What's good about the Canadian Screenwriting Awards is they hearken back to the early days of the Oscars. The host (former Kid in the Hall Scott Thompson) gets up, does his thing, they hand out the trophies, speeches are short, and the whole thing's over in an hour -- so as not to cut into the really important business of drinking and schmoozing.

Anyway, from the Canadian Press article, here's the important stuff about, you know, who won:

Brent Butt, the star of the hit sitcom Corner Gas, joined Paul Mather to win the comedy and variety writing award for the episode entitled Dog River Vice. Susan Coyne, Bob Martin and Mark McKinney shared the drama series (one hour) prize for the Steeped in Blood episode of the Shakespeare troupe parody Slings & Arrows.

And in the half-hour drama category, it was Susin Nielsen for her Dancing the Horizontal Mambo instalment of Robson Arms.

On the big screen, Wil Zmak won for his screenplay for The Dark Hours, a horror film about a psychiatrist confronted by a violent sex offender she once treated.

Best miniseries or movie-of-the-week screenplay went to Suzette Couture for The Man Who Lost Himself, the movie about former football star Terry Evanshen's struggle to regain his memory after a near-fatal car crash.

Comic Scott Thompson was again pegged to host the 10th annual awards event. The awards, presented by the Writers Guild of Canada, are judged solely on the merits of the script, not the final product.

The guild also honoured Alberta writer and teacher Josh Miller with the Alex Barris Mentorship Award for his efforts to launch the careers of many young screenwriters. The guild is the national association representing more than 1,800 screenwriters who work in English-language film, television, radio and new media.

Of the winning entries, I haven't seen Dark Hours, but I've just added it to my ZipList like a good Canadian. I also didn't see Suzette Couture's The Man Who Lost Himself -- it's one of those feely CTV Tv-movies I just don't like. However, I do think that maybe they should just create "The Suzette Couture Award" and give it to Suzette Couture every year. Let's just cut out the middleman. In Canadian writing circles, she's the Anti-Susan Lucci. I kid. Hell of a talent. Hell of a talent. I hear she's in pre-production on something she scribbled on a napkin. There I go, again with the kidding.

I was far more sanguine about having all the comedy writing noms go to Corner Gas episodes than I was seeing all five comedy writing noms go to Made In Canada at the Geminis a few years back...and the ep that won was funny, though I'm sad that my friend Kevin White didn't win for one of HIS Corner Gas's.

I've written about how much I loved Slings & Arrows before, so I was glad to see it pick up some bling.

But the awards themselves really were prelude to the dustup. As a friend of mine who works for one of those Canadian entertainment shows that have sprung up like kudzu said, "You can tell the writers from the actors, because when the lights go on and the camera pans the crowd people try to hide and scurry and don't immediately adjust their wine glass whilst trying to favor their good side in the shot."

That's us. A room full of people with no good sides.

I'm cruel. And self-loathing. The truth is, of course, that writer eye-candy is the best eye-candy: because you can be reasonably sure that they can also string a sentence together. Mmm. Literacy, Thinking, and Conversational skills. That's hot.

I saw former students of mine, all shiny and mobbed up with their important industry jobs; there were people I've worked with and always intend to see more of but never do -- and writers who write for the stage who I secretly have big time talent-crushes on; there were the top-tier mafia types who I always imagine just walking into the meeting, slapping down their scripts and saying, "there. shoot that." But most of all there were just a bunch of gently lacerating, hyper-articulate, offbeat and fun and wonderful people just trying to break each other up.

Oh, and development executives who like cocktails. A lot. I think if you're going to be a development executive in Canada, you really should come out and declare your love of cocktails. It makes for a much more convivial party. My esteem for some of our fine executives jumped Monday night. Jumped. I am not being sarcastic.

For the truth is, we all are toiling in the trenches of entertainment here. I don't want to have any more conversations with anyone who thinks they're doing something important when they write TV. I want to entertain people -- and in a room full of like-minded artists, it's almost inevitable that they entertain you, too.

I don't know what more the WGC can do to raise the profile of the Canadian Screenwriting Awards. But I'm fairly sure they can't throw a better party.

Old People Know Java Voodoo

I ran out of Starbucks coffee this morning.
It's a bit of a tragedy.
I got addicted to grinding the Starbucks beans myself and making great drip coffee about a year and a half ago. That's when I knew two people who worked at Starbucks. They'd slip me a pound of beans every couple of weeks and all was copasetic.

Course, once they moved on, I was screwed -- destined to have to spend fourteen bucks a week just to have the wherewithal to make it through the average morning.

So this morning, when I found there wasn't enough Starbucks beans to grind for a pot, and I had to switch to the substandard Dr. McGuffin's Whatever The Fuck This Is supposed "upscale" beans from my grocery store downstairs -- I knew there was going to be trouble.

And there is. I'm on my second cup of coffee now, and it tastes a bit like feet.

At times like this, I'm reminded of my father. He may have toiled in he trenches of sugar water bottling management for a good portion of his life, but he is a stone cold ninja with a percolator.

That's right, bitches. A percolator.

An old-style, low-tech, drip drip ceramic monstrosity that is not sexy in the slightest. It does not foam, whip, or gently heat the milk. It glugs, and boils, and must be turned from boiling to perking to heating in a precise minute arrangement that my father has burned into his sense memory.

And the net result is my father can buy 1.99 a pound, Chock Full O'Shit coffee -- the kind that comes pre-mixed with cigarette butts already in the tin-- the kind of coffee that Juan Valdez's syphillitic burro would turn up his nose at -- and scoop it into his little metal perk basket, and put it on the stove, and voila! Ten minutes later: a symphony of coffee flavor.

And I have to go out and spend fourteen fucking dollars.

I Swear To God, I Don't Have Time For This.

There I am, minding my own business, trying to work. And all that's going to hell because I am deeply, deeply, inexorably, dangerously and incontroveribly under the sway of Olaf.

Olaf makes me feel inadequate. I Am Idiot Screenwriter Also -- but nowhere does my ambition or talent rival that of Olaf, or touch the naked drama of his saga with Trixie.

Go. Go you lucky people. Feast on Olaf.

A Tale of Two Movies

When I started this blog, I wrote a bit about why I don't really have a desire to write movies.

A little screening downtime this weekend just served to illustrate the great, gaping divide...and also maybe the way out of it.

First, let's take the case of two movies that have only one thing in common: they both kind of tanked at the box office.

The first film I watched last night was The Island. Now, if you go to Defamer or sites like that you can have all sorts of fun tracking the hubris and disappointment of Director Michael Bay. He pretty much managed to blame everyone but himself for the film tanking -- including his two pretty leads, Ewan (I like motorcycles and showing my pee-pee) McGregor and Scarlett (I can barely believe I look like this either) Johansson, for not being big enough stars.

In the extras on the DVD, pretty much the first thing Bay says in the selling of his craptastic opus is: "I tell the writers, when you come to an action sequence, just write "action sequence" because I KNOW ACTION." (I know I just put that in quotes, but it's actually a paraphrase. I can't be bothered to go put the DVD back in to transcribe what he actually said. I assure you I've got the spirit of it right.)

Therein, of course, lies Bay's problem. The Island is noisy and dumb and takes an intriguing concept and runs precisely nowhere with it. There's tons of Bay's trademark helicopters, and flipping cars and ersatz-Zimmer score -- but the action sequences he enthusiastically talks up are so forgettable you tend to forget how they started even before they're finished -- not a good sign.

There's a short doc on making the action sequence that's workmanlike and joyless. Bay takes credit for one highway chase that involves metal, barbell-like railroad axels coming off a truck and wreaking havoc...I guess this is held up as the example of what he can come up with -- the reason why any of the three credited writers on the film should just write "action sequence" and be done with it.

It's not as good as the one in Matrix Reloaded. That's it.

Meanwhile, all the wonderful implications of the story are never explored -- even for a second. There's a scene where Ewan McGregor's clone looks up his "sponsor." There's no exploration of what it's like to come face to face with your doppelganger -- the moral, ethical, or just creepy reality of it. The clones are deliberately kept in the dark about sex. So of course, toward the end of the movie we have a lovingly photographed and utterly empty sex scene between the two leads. And boom. We're onto the next thing. This is first sex for two people who never knew what sex was. And the treatment it gets amounts to: "that thing you do with your tongue is amazing."

Later in the film, they put a bunch of clones into an oven for incineration. It's treated as an action beat -- will Ewan save them in time? Of course he does. And blip -- that's it -- there we go -- a natural allusion to one of the most horrific things humans have ever done to other humans -- and it's played as an action beat. Boom. Next.

We learn that all this is precipitated by Scarlett's "sponsor" being in a bad car accident. They're going to harvest all her organs. The issues of life, death, the choices and morality of living and dying -- none of them even glanced off -- except as the setup for another action beat. Cause you know, Bay knows action.

The Island's story area is intriguing and timely -- crossing all sorts of current debates both medical and ethical. But you've forgotten the movie before it's even over.

Then I plugged in The Weather Man. I watched it ... I liked it but didn't love it. But I couldn't stop thinking about it as I fell asleep. The more I turned it over and chewed on the themes of what I'd written, the more I appreciated Gore Verbinski's film. The humanity in the performances from Nic Cage, Michael Caine, and Hope Davis got to me.

The next day I plug in the DVD and watch the extras. And the first one is all about the writer, Steve Conrad. How he came up with the script. Verbinski and the Producer talking about the simplicity of the words -- and how much they loved what was on the page. The movie is the script, they seemed to say. I couldn't believe what I was watching, especially after Bay's self-contratulation. Was this actually credit being given where it was due? In...Hollywood?

The other docs -- on the cinematography, the music and the characters, the direction and the approach show the keen respect for the other artisans involved in pulling the movie off. So it wasn't just a celebration of the writer. The extras, though spare, went to great pains to illuminate the collaborative nature of the film. But I found it amazing and unusual that the writer was included in that.

But why should it be amazing?

One film still has me thinking. One had me forgetting it before it was over. And the latter, sadly, says way more about the state of film today than the former.

As for the implications both religious, ethical, and philosophical suggested but not dealt with in The Island, I guess I'll just have to go back to Battlestar Galactica to get a taste of that.

Yup. I'm fine with TV. More than fine.

But I did enjoy The Weather Man.

The Room is Safe -- But For How Long?

Somehow I missed this yesterday.

Sometimes vulgarity is not just acceptable but necessary in the workplace, the California Supreme Court ruled Thursday as it threw out a sexual harassment case by a former assistant on the "Friends" TV show.

The justices, ruling 7-0, agreed with Warner Bros. Television Productions that trash talk was part of the creative process and, therefore, the studio and its writers could not be sued for raunchy writers' meetings.

The court added that no jury would believe the writers' assistant was the target of harassment during profanity-laced meetings.

"The record discloses that most of the sexually coarse and vulgar language at issue did not involve and was not aimed at plaintiff or other women in the workplace," Justice Marvin Baxter wrote

It's actually a very good thing for shows being better rather than safe and predictable.

The social dynamics of the Writers' Room may be inscrutable to outsiders, but it's absolutely necessary. When this subject came up on this blog before, a couple of commenters took the line that a writers' room should be subject to the same rules as any other workplace. I said then, and believe now, that that's utter horseshit. I'm relieved that all 7 justices on the California Supreme Court agreed.

If you really want to know why, read Ken Levine on the subject.

Just a taste:

Writers Rooms are not for the faint of heart. It is not the Queen’s Tea in there. Sitcom writers on multi-camera shows like FRIENDS work under enormous pressure. The writers see a runthrough at 4:00 and must fix the entire script that night, even if it means throwing out the script and writing a new one. They must identify the problems, come up with the solutions, and have the new draft ready first thing in the morning. Tough luck if the muse doesn’t come, or you’ve got the flu, or worse, had Laker tickets. And you face this daunting task essentially every night for 22 weeks.

To relieve that pressure and kick start the creative process, comedy writers need to be free to say ANYTHING. And considering we’re all neurotic, self loathing, insecure, still pining for that girl from Junior High, and funny our escape valve tends to be material that makes “The Aristocrats” joke seem PG. The only rule is everything and everyone is fair game…even YOU. The best way to prevent others from taking a shot at you is taking the shot yourself. A writers room is the only place in the world where the winner of a dick measuring contest is the one who has the smallest.

Ken's full post is here.

The Luck (and the Bacon) of the Irish

Erin go Burn.

There are very few times I ever find myself wishing away my Irish heritage. I'm cool with it, even if it does come with crushing Roman Catholic Guilt. But on days like today, when the sunburn is just sizzling -- just from sitting outside -- well, you gotta wonder. Now before you start in with the "haven't you heard about the thinning ozone dummy?" and the "serves you right for not putting on sunblock?" helpful admonishments -- know that I did search out and source my bottle of Coppertone, only to find that it expired in November 2004. Then, last night, I decided to go straight for the sunburn meds, but they expired in Jan 2005. Dear Vaseline Intensive Care with sweet, sweet aloe: you are my only friend.

Sunburn makes me sleepy. So last night I actually got about 10 hours sleep -- complete with some strange sweating out the toxins dreams.

Yesterday on the street I heard two teenagers talking about the Israel-Palestinian conflict (I know, I was kind of impressed too, initially.) One called it the "infantada." He thought he was pretty smart. I could tell.

That stuck with me. Slightly amusing, in an awful way.

Then last night -- no word of a lie -- I had a dream about the infantada. It was awful. All these angry, suicidal babies -- killing themselves in a religious frenzy all for the promise of 40 new nursemaids when they went to heaven.

"Oh look at him, he's so cute! How old is he?"

"11 months"

"11 months? Oh that's just precious...look he's holding a rattle!"

[Foreshadowing: he's not holding a rattle.]

"Has he started talking yet?"

"Just a bit."

(The baby mumbles something unintelligible.)

"What was that? What?"

Baby: (in a teeny, teeny voice) AllahuAkbar.

"Oh my God, that's not a rattle!"

And... SCENE.

Seriously, I have to stay out of the %$#%ing sun.

So Very, Very Wrong.

Some days you just feel wrong, you know?

Pulling into Nazareth

Is "The Weight" by The Band, the perfect song? This is a song that you can hear 10 times a day on terrestrial radio. It's on XM right now. Normally I'd resent that. But I don't. I love this song. I can listen to it anytime. Anywhere. I never get tired of it, and I always sing, (when I can) the line about "put the load right on me" (and also, if we want to get into full disclosure, "Wait a minute, Chester," and "take Jack my Dog."

Is it just me?

BTW, in the time I took to type this, it's now "Feel So Good" by Richard Thompson. ("I feel so good I'm going to break somebody's heart tonight.")

That works too.

"Naked Man Dies in Field of Horses..."

The plotline to the pilot episode of Law & Order: UK

Lee Thomson makes me laugh. Read his full comment in the thread here.

Opening Pandora's Box: Canadian Casting

I say this because I'm genuinely interested, and because it's probably good intel for the future. To non-Canadians, apologies, this is probably boring. But I know there are a lot of sneaky sneaky Toronto-Montreal-Vancouver production people reading this, so here's my question:

In your experience, which Canadian casting agents give you the same old-same old, and are there any who go the extra mile to bring in fresh new talent?

I remember heartily that in all my years of doing Fringe theatre in Toronto, I never once saw a casting agent in the audience.

Comments -- anonymously, if you like -- below. (I'm going to change the settings to allow anonymous comments, just for this subject. But I'm also turning on comment moderation, which means I have to approve all comments. No sense gettin' all libel-y)

O Carmela Where Art Thou?

I'm nursing two of my least-favorite things in the world today: a story that doesn't work (yet) and a sunburn. (Damn you, fair-skinned Irish genetics!) So I'm giving over the blog today to a mysterious commenter named mmm mmm good -- (who actually isn't so mysterious to me. His comments were just too good to leave in commenter's ghetto.) Here's his take on the whole Casting/Carmela Problem Imbroglio.

So, I read both your’s and Lee’s column and here are some thoughts: Does Law & Order follow the British way of thinking? Should Dick Wolf be offered a seat in the House of Lords? Dick has a perfectly formulated, easily digestible show concept that he has franchised ad nauseam (that’s Latin by the way). And, you know what? It still friggin’ works! AND he has flipped and fired more faces on that show than any other show I can recall; people are still watching. Is it the quality of shows that is the problem here? If a show is solid, if the characters are written with passion and wit, won’t that pull people in regardless of the face on the screen? Why does it work in the UK but not here in the land of the maple leaf and poutine?

Look, I am an actor and I get tired of seeing the same faces as much as the next guy but if they have the talent, I don’t really mind. I mean in Canada you really can’t find a much more talented actor than Eric Peterson. In his age bracket the man shows more versatility, from Drama to Comedy, than most. Nicholas Campbell is persona more than a versatile actor; I believe him when I see him. He is always the same, but I believe him. I don’t mind seeing these actors work over and over again. I get jealous as hell, but I don’t mind as long as they are working on a good show, in interesting stories and sputtering forth witty dialogue. That being said, in a case like Robson Arms, where the entire cast of Corner Gas basically has a reunion on a different set, we are just being shown a dazzlingly minuscule amount of imagination from the network. Also, I think the network, producers and casting directors are just scared, stressed and lazy.

Putting a show together is so hard sometimes. You write and write. Finally get a development deal, then a thumbs-up from the network. Then you hire the army necessary to shoot 13 or so episodes. Money is flying out the door the moment you flip on the green light. And then it comes to making decisions on casting. The producer is stressed and tired of getting notes from the broadcaster. He/She has hired a casting director to give him faces; to make the words come alive off the page and onto the screen. Time is money and frankly my experience is that casting directors in Canada are very poor sales people. They need to sell the faces and they don’t. They just present the ones that have worked before, hoping that those faces will continue to solve their problems for them as quickly as possible. The producer is freaking out while watching audition tapes because phone calls are coming in from the network, directors, assistant directors, location managers, accountants etc. ALL EVERYONE WANTS IS FOR SOMEBODY TO SOLVE THEIR PROBLEMS. Finally someone says: “Hey Eric Peterson, he’s good, give him the role.” Thus, the casting circle is complete. If that casting director can’t sell any other face but Nicholas Campbell or Eric Peterson than it’s castings lack of passion and the producers lack of imagination and endurance that are to blame. Am I putting a lot of pressure on casting? Yes. It’s their job. If they get passionate to sell a new talented actor then it’s most likely that a producer, just looking to get the thing done, will cast them.

Passion, I guess, is the key. This industry is soul destroying at times. It eats happiness like I eat free salty peanuts at the pub: mindlessly and compulsively. The only thing that will win out in this process is passion - Producers, Directors and Casting people who are passionate enough to make quality shows and take the time to cast them properly. To beat back the howling banshees at the door demanding that they hurry up and JUST DO IT. Make something of quality. At every stage demand passion, precision and excellence and I think the faces, the words and the vision will come. Hopefully, the audience will show their gratitude by watching.

Mr. Good does put a lot on casting, and I agree that a lot of times casting doesn't push. Nobody in Canada really pushes -- that's pretty much the national trait (they just snipe afterward.) It amazes me that most Canadian Agents I meet aren't as outgoing or forceful as me. (Except my agent. Glenn rocks.)

There's a lot of talk here about creating and building stars -- but bizarrely, though we have that machinery in place more than ever now -- it seems like you can't shake a broadcast licence without an ET clone falling down -- including Global's ET Canada -- the whole star thing just doesn't seem to take, unless they're people who appeared on a show with "Idol" in the title.

But for the number of times I've heard from actor friends of mine, "you're the director's no. 1 choice" only to see them lose the part to the same 12 people, I still think there's a failure of imagination at work here.

There really aren't any consequences in Canada. In L.A., you don't want to be the one who passes over the next big thing...in Canada, no one's looking for the next big thing. They'd just rather wait til L.A. finds them and then talk about how Canadian they are.

Slings & Arrows deserves a lot of credit...why? Because they cast Rachel McAdams when she was nobody. And as a result, they got their whole first season of shows starrring...ta da...Rachel McAdams!

Eric Peterson deserves everything he gets. He's a fine, versatile actor, and he does stage and screen equally well...and is different in those parts, as Lee describes. But surely there's more, isn't there?

Bi-Pondal Musings on Casting and Character

UK Scriboblogger Lee Thomson took up the question I posed at the end of my post on Billable Hours & The Carmela Problem and thoughtfully answered it. You can read the full post here. But allow me to steal a bit.

In fact, separating actor from character is something we've become very practised at in the UK, not because the available pool of talent is so small we have to reconcile ourselves to familiarity, but because we love to demystify celebrity. Personally, I blame panto - one day you’re Gandalf the White, the next, Widow Twankey, chucking sweets at screaming kids. As long as one performance is sufficiently different from the other, it doesn't matter if they come days apart. Of course, it takes a very skilled actor to create this differentiation, but that's the point isn't it, and the contradiction; the best actors, and the most recognised, are those who excel at making themselves anonymous. Their anonymity is the key to their employment, and the barrier to their marketability.

This is a very interesting point, and I think it very much illustrates the difference between the cultures. In Britain, a lot of actors get training in the theatre, and are practiced at building their characters from the ground up. So you can bounce from show to show, and fall in love with that character, and appreciate the range of what they do next.

Unfortunately, here in Canada we tend to hew more to the American tradition, of casting the same actor to play roughly the same kind of part over, and over, and over again. Mark McKinney doesn't stretch too much from role to role. He's always recognizably McKinney. Similarly, you can usually count on Nicholas Campbell to play a certain type. We keep casting the same actors in roughly the same kinds of roles. No wonder we can't tell the series apart.

Thinking of it, it seems our most tenacious shows are those that find ways to outlive their casts and develop their own personalities. Doctor Who has had ten leads now, and who knows how many companions. The door doesn't finish closing on one set of Spooks before the next lot come in. Taggart hasn't had a character called Taggart in it since 1993. And yet tune into any of these, or Eastenders or Coronation Street for that matter, and you pretty much know what you're going to get. Compare lists of regulars in Casualty, The Bill, and Monarch of the Glen over three year intervals, and you'll see few repetitions. But the shows survive, and remain identifiable.

The very fact that we don't regard actors as key to a show's national adoption, and that they have the freedom to stretch their wings is a good thing. Although it can sometimes result in unwelcome overexposure (Ross Kemp, Neil Morrisey, Amanda Holden, I am most definitely not looking at you), the ability of actors to move around, be in three shows a year, not stick at anything for long, is what has allowed some of our best loved and culturally resonant shows to develop their defining characteristics.

True enough. Maybe the problem is not coming up with resonant concepts. In the UK, low episode orders mean you're going to lose cast members no matter what you do. But the characters, when they're introduced, are indelible and different -- like the shows they inhabit. Whoever is in the current cast of Spooks/MI-5 - the important thing is that the show treats espionage in the post 9/11 era in a far more adult, nuanced, and unique way than any similar show in the USA or Canada would ever dare to attempt.

I still think the fact that we cast the same 12 actors hurts us...but maybe it's the symptom, not the cause. The symptom is casting the same old same old instead of looking for the new face...but the cause is bland, safe, and interchangeable concepts that don't demand a fresh, bold, and indelible characterization.

Anyway, go read Lee.

Seriously, Dude, What About Brian?

Well, first of all, I'm reasonably certain that he has, in the words of the adorable toddler daughter of a friend of mine, a buh-gina.

Simply put, after two episodes I can say with a crushing degree of certainty that this Brian character is not like any man -- straight or gay -- I have ever met in my life.

Seriously. Who is this guy? He's not from Mars.



Let's look at the evidence:

• He lets a crazy woman who he's broken up with after dating for just two weeks force him out of his house.
• He's totally single, totally unencumbered, and he kvetches about sleeping with two women in a 24 hour period. The only dilemna he would reasonably face in reality is this: Do I tell all my friends one-by-one, or gather them together and tell them all at once so I don't risk one of them finding out from someone else besides me?
• When the best-friend's-fiancee tries to assuage her kissy-kissy guilt by setting him up with her friend... Sorry...I mean ambushing him...he does not immediately call bullshit. He just sits there and takes it.

There's a hundred more. But you know, why bother? You can see what they were going for here. This was all set and bothered to be ABC's next Grey's Anatomy. The problem is, unlike that show, this one's supposed to be set around a man.

And it's not.

It's set around a woman's fantasy projection of how men should be.

This is exactly what I was talking about in The Eyeballs of Men.

Except for the asshole-best-friend character, all the women are in charge in their relationships. The women drive the stories. Now, that in and of itself is the dynamic in a lot of relationships, but it's not something you're going to get men to watch.

There's an interesting study floating around about the kinds of shows men watch. And it's very revealing. Men tend to identify with main characters who have a code...who do what they think is right, even if that brings them into conflict with society, or the law. Tony Soprano. Greg House. Vic Mackey. You know another character a lot of men I know relate to? Nate Fisher. No kidding. Frustrating, maddening, scream-at-the-tv Nate. Narm Nate. Because in his own way, he's doing the same thing. He's doing the best he can with the cards he's been dealt -- and even if he doesn't make the right choices, he's trying. That is something men can relate to.

Not. Brian.

My sister emailed me the other day. She lives in Washington now, and I don't see or hear from her all that much, so her emails are always a real pleasure. She saw Brian. She liked it. She Brian was hot. And he is hot. Or, to put it more accurately...he is pretty.

Brian is the prettiest woman on the show.

It should come as no surprise that the creator of What About Brian?, Dana Stevens, is female. But lest you think I'm going down some chauvinist road here -- I'm really not. Yes, I recognize that if the male characters on Brian are wishful-thinking stereotypes, it's no different than the flat wife and girlfriend roles male screenwriters have written for women for years. But the reality is that you don't have to be a gender, to write a gender. Larry's Party by the late Carol Shields nails men. John Irving's A Widow for One Year feels like it was written by a woman. James L. Brooks wrote Holly Hunter's character in Broadcast News and it was beautiful and true. Sex In The City and Desperate Housewives are shows that women have flocked to because those characters resonated with them. Both shows were created by gay men.

But if it's going to resonate -- you have to push deeper. You can't fall back on stereotypes, or convenience, or wishful thinking.

I heard gossip about this pilot from someone who saw the original version, before they recast the main love interest. Canadian actor Polly Shannon was booted from the show, and the woman they ultimately cast was in. Apparently, at the same time they shaved off the more quirky reading Shannon brought to the part, they also re-shot and re-set a lot of the scenes, and whittled the edges off. The kiss between Fiancee and Brian went from a drunken smoochup back at his place -- where there's real jeopardy -- to an almost accidental afterthought in a closet. In reshooting the rest, too -- what was edgy or quirky was made ersatz and bland. They hived the edges off. All of them.

So, What About Brian? Judging by the creative direction they chose, and the dropoff in ratings from Episode 1 to 2... I think he's toast.

Because at the end of the day, I'm not sure women want to see shows built around false projections of men, any more than men do. Grey's Anatomy, remember, is about the women.

But Brian? He sure has a purty mouth. Heh.

Sad News from ZA

From Dennis Venter, one of our South African writers for Charlie Jade, comes this very sad news:

Brett Goldin, the guy who played (the O.T.T.) Terry Schachter in CJ, was murdered yesterday. It’s sad, he was a talented actor and a decent guy.

I only met Brett a couple of times in the production office for CJ, but he was definitely one of South Africa's most gifted comic actors. He took a one or two scene part in CJ and parked it. So much so that we made him up different and brought him back to play a different character a few episodes later. (as an alternate-universe, very unlikely club bouncer.)

While we were in Cape Town, he had a run of a very successful play, Bad Apple, that satirized a lot of different South African school types. I didn't go because of work, but everybody who saw it said it was a tour de force.

Brett was one of a group of actors who created a series of shorts -- "Crazy Monkey" -- that satirized the extreme/Jackass phenomenon. The spots caught on and played not just in South Africa, but on other MTV stations worldwide. They even spun them out into a movie.

It's a shocking thing when someone, anyone is murdered. And for a country still so haunted by a violent past, it's an even more bitter pill. I'm enough of a Locke guy to think that anyone we lose diminishes us all -- but when we lose someone who makes us laugh, I think the world is even poorer for it. We all need to laugh more.

You can see a memorial page to Brett Goldin by his friends in Crazy Monkey here.

Billable Hours & The Carmela Problem

Billable Hours is a new SHOWCASE series that premiered in Canada on Sunday night. It's set in a law firm, and concerns the neo-leisure (ie: slacking) pursuits of young lawyers in a firm. So, yeah, it's The Office meets Ally McBeal minus the cases in Ally McBeal.

The show stars co-creator Fab Filippo, (Queer As Folk, Buffy the Vampire Slayer) Jennifer Baxter and Brandon Firla -- two faces very familiar to Canadian viewers because they do a ton of commercials -- and Dov Tiefenbach, who was, and is, the titular star of CBC's troubled yet-still-active This Space For Rent.

I won't really say too much about the content here -- I'd love to hear from any Canadians who saw it. What I will say is that I thought the Act-Outs were weak, there were plot turns (and turns back) that didn't really progress so much as come out of nowhere, and the main A-Plot was resolved through coincidence, and not any concerted effort by the main character. Reviews have ranged from Canadian-kind to middling. I think the setting is fine. The story area is as good as any other, but the scripts are not as strong as they need to be and I'm not sure they've nailed tone. In the office sitcom genre, 21st century style, there's the anarchic tone of Andy Richter's failed (but still sorely missed) Andy Richter Controls The Universe, or the more painful, small, and well-observed minutae of The Office. I'm not sure Billable Hours knows its tone yet.

Seeing Tiefenbach show up in the show, though, was the more distracting thing for me. One of the problems of doing such short orders of series is that the actors don't work for very long, so they're both free to take other series work, and pretty much have to do so because they haven't made enough money to survive for the year.

In Tiefenbach and This Space For Rent's case, it's a double whammy. Not only is Dov one of the ensemble of Billable Hours, but his castmate Rainbow Sun Francks is on Stargate: Atlantis. So there's Tiefenbach, a regular on one show while a second CBC venture goes for two more pilots (for a total development time of two or three years? I don't blame the guy for taking other work.)

Last year, CTV ran a comedy-drama in an apartment block called Robson Arms. One by one, every member of the Corner Gas cast showed up.

The woman who played Reena, one of the main characters in Charlie Jade, was also a lesbian bartender on Showcase's Naked Josh.

And just recently, CHUM picked up Murdoch Mysteries for a series. When they did it as a series of movies, Peter Outerbridge was the star. They're probably going to have to recast the role for the series. Why? Because Outerbridge is the main character on Re:Genesis.

Then there's former Kid in the Hall Mark McKinney...you could break your TiVo trying to keep track of the Canadian series he's in: Slings & Arrows, Hatching, Matching & Dispatching, Robson Arms, and Corner Gas (and that's just 2005!)

I think this kind of thing is a pretty intractible problem in the Canadian industry. It's tempting to put it down to lazy casting agents, and I'm sure that's part of it...you can't tell me that the same twelve people do all the commercials in Canada because there's only twelve good actors...but I don't think you can put it all down to them, either.

If you're doing short episode runs, and you're available, and you have to work, then why wouldn't you work? And actors also (rightly) fear becoming too identified with one role. So you can't blame the actors. And budgets are so tight that you can't really do more than 6 or 8 or 13 a season, so you can't blame the Producers for going with someone who they know can deliver.

But the net result is: it's impossible to build a show's identity in people's minds. How can you get a show to stand out if it stars the same people as all the other shows? Guest leads, episodic leads, sure -- but series leads? The same faces from show, to show, to show? How can that not dilute the product?

The Trailer Park Boys guys don't pop up in every other show -- and that's why they hold some sort of mystique. (their premiere, by the way, was hilarious, as usual.)

If Edie Falco showed up playing someone other than Carmela in a series, it would be promoted as a special deal -- a cool appearance...but what if she was on SVU, CSI, LOST, and BOSTON LEGAL all in a four month period? What would that do to how you saw Carmela?

Of course, she won't. Because they pay her very well to be Carmela, so she doesn't have to take everything that's offered.

Like I said -- I'm honestly not sure that there's a solution to this. I just feel in my bones it's yet another of the daunting problems we face in trying to create Canadian TV.

What about the UK, where they do lots of 6-8 ep runs. Do actors show up in shows over and over? And is that a problem for audiences trying to keep them straight?

Canada-Russia 72 Ratings

So the ratings came in. CBC's miniseries about the legendary 1972 Summit series drew 814 000 viewers on its first, Sunday night outing and 772 000 viewers the next night for part two.

The Toronto Sun's Bill Brioux, who really does have a hate-on for the CBC (Despite a couple of Fort-Dork driven emails stating the contrary, I really don't) crows about how low those numbers are. I'm not so sure. The second number is about what Prairie Giant, the Tommy Douglas movie scored on its second night, which means that though the hockey movie had fewer initial viewers, it kept a higher percentage of them from night to night.

And in a land where 1.5 million is a top rating, and where CBC has said they're shooting for a million viewers plus -- that's certainly in the ballpark -- especially for a movie that has a very skewed male appeal. (Remember, there are way more female TV viewers out there -- even in Canada.)

I think it's something for CBC to build on. I hope they keep calm and move on, rather than reverting to Chicken Little mode.

The Importance of Knowing Your Franchise

A new 1/2 hour Canadian series, Billable Hours, premiered last night, along with the new season of Trailer Park Boys. I haven't seen them yet, but I will later and let's see if there's something to say.

The other premiere last night was What About Brian? A show that I found odd and off-putting. I have some theories as to why. There's another ep on tonight, so I'll watch that and then see if I can articulate what's so...odd...about Brian.

Last week I was in a room for a series that's plotting out its second season. What amazed me, off the top, was how clearly they knew their characters and franchise -- what stories worked, what it was about, how to complicate the plots, etc.

This show was a comedy. I flip back and forth in my career between comedy and drama. (I meant in the shows I write, but now that I think about it, that phrase could actually just as cleanly refer to the actual state of my career.)

The first lesson I took out of the room was this: how to use coincidence.

One of the notes you're going to get from execs all the time in Canada (maybe everywhere) is isn't that coincidental?

If you go through comedy, you're going to find a lot of coincidence. It's one of the shorthands you simply need to make plots work. And out of the discussions in this room came what I call the coincidence rule: In comedy, coincidence can always kick off a plot. It can sometimes complicate a plot. But it can never provide the solution to a plot.

If you employ coincidence as your solution, you're going to leave the audience unsatisfied -- and it's going to smack of deus ex machina -- which hasn't worked too well since the Greeks leaned on it so heavily back in the day.

The temptation to use coincidence to solve your problem can be strong. Because on first blush, it seems like a great, neat, all items tied in a bow thing. I give you Escape: The Pina Colada Song. Go. Google the lyrics. I'll wait. Now, that seems tied up nice and neat, doesn't it? But really, admit it, deep down in your bones, doesn't it suck? Just a bit? It's glib and trite, isn't it?

To put it another way:

Frasier and Niles can run into their fencing instructor who terrorized them as children in Cafe Nervosa. That's a coincidence, but it's doable. The Fencing instructor can be married to the woman who runs the publishing house where Frasier's trying to get a book published. That's fine. But Niles can't come in at the end of an episode where he's been challenged to a duel and say it's no problem because he just happened to run into their old fencing instructor, and he told Niles what he and Frasier have been doing wrong in their fencing technique all these years, so now Niles has the confidence to win the duel. Or...even better -- the fencing instructor will stand in for him in the duel.

That would suck. But...if the fencing instructor shows up and finds out that Niles' opponent has engaged a second, and the second is the Fencing Instructor's Fencing Instructor -- well...that's not solving the problem, it's a big coincidence -- but it still plays. See? Because the solution is what comes next, and involves Frasier and Niles getting out of the mess they've gotten into.

As I said, this is comedy. I think Drama is a lot less tolerant of coincidence. Even if you pile tons of them on top of each other and pretend like you're making it all a deep allegory. (Yes, Best Picture 2005, I'm looking at you.)

The other thing that I learned in this room is that there's two ways to come up with a plot. Because I'm a drama writer, too -- I tend to try to come up with a workable structure and story and then try to make it funny. That can sometimes work, especially in comedy/drama hybrids.

Far more effective, however, is to try to come up with plots and situations that are inherently funny in and of themselves. Story funny. That way, you're not working hard to hang jokes on a plot -- you're laughing because the situation or dilemna your characters are in is funny even before you come up with dialogue. Again, sounds simple... in practice, sometimes, not so much.

What doing it this way also gives you is it probably makes you aware of mining that which is unique about your franchise. This is a drama example, but I thought the nadir of the post-Aaron Sorkin West Wing era was the episode where "there's a bomb in the White House..." just because I'd seen that plot on E.R., or any other John Wells show. If the plot you're working could graft just as easily into any other show, you're probably going to have to work really hard to make it funny/interesting, and about your characters.

When you're trying to come up with a new show, or even a unique spec idea for an existing show, it really helps to try and come up with the thing that could only happen to your characters, or someone in their specific situation. That is your franchise.

And if you figure that out quickly, you can save a lot of heartache.

Finally, one other thing I learned, or at least heard said very well, last week. This was said at the University class I spoke to by one of my fellow panelists, a successful Canadian animation, children's, and comedy TV writer. On the subject of having your characters change and grow:

"Comedy characters can't grow the same way characters in a drama can..the kind of growth a character on a comedy will go through in five or six years is about the same as one season of Desperate Housewives or Grey's Anatomy."

Like I said, I'm aware of that sentiment, and have had painful meetings where I tried to explain it to people who were hell-bent on killing the comedy by having the character "learn something," but I just think that's a very elegant way to lay it out.

The Weekend Off That Wasn't.

Thursday was a hard day. There was a doctor's appointment, which wasn't that hard in and of itself. But then traffic was a bummer. Then there was a long bank line. And then a conference call basically imploded a script I worked very hard on.

These are the things that happen; nothing to be done about them. But part of working for yourself and largely by yourself is listening to the rhythms of your heart and body and mind, and following them.

Knowing that next week's plate involved a fairly major rethink and reimagining, I decided that this long weekend would be about servicing the other tendrils of my life. My parents have returned from their Snowbird perch in Florida, so Easter Sunday will be built around dinner there. It's also Little Sister Number One's birthday, so familial celebrations abound.

The rest is reading and grocery shopping and trying to free my mind (so my ass can follow.)

There's also a comical cat-and-mouse game that involves dodging emails and calls from my partner in the above-mentioned project. "I need not to think about this this weekend" should be a clear enough request -- but it isn't. If I do manage to keep my vow and not work this weekend, it'll be only the third weekend in two years I haven't worked. There's always pressure to keep working. And when you know you need a break, sometimes the only thing to do is unplug the phone and ignore the email.

(Aside: I remember so well the first apartment I had without roommates, the first time I ever lived alone. For about two months I'd get home from work and sit down on the couch and just marvel at the fact that if I didn't want to see anyone or talk to anyone, I didn't have to. And I'm an extrovert. Or I mostly am. But maybe even then I was a writer.)

I do all these thigns knowing that they are, in a sense, doomed to fail. Because amidst the not-thinking-about it and ignoring the hectoring emails and phone calls, there are things that creep in, unbidden. There's the start awake at three a.m. where you realize you're thinking about your characters. There's the moment watching Red Eye -- a movie that could not be further away from the genre and story that I'm working on, where I realize I need to rewind the DVD because something got sparked and I've gone somewhere else for two minutes: thinking about story.

I call this churn. Churn is the thing that all writers have to endure and embrace in loving and loathing moments. It's the thing that gets you over the hump, and it's the thing that makes taking the weekend off well nigh impossible.

Churn has ruined relationships. It's made me seem distant and disinterested. There's time when I think Churn is almost a low grade mental illness. But it's not. It's simply process. But try explaining to your spouse or lover that that faraway look in your eyes is just you working when you're not working. Writers who are in happy, functioning relationships fascinate me. They really do. I can't help but feel that half the day I walk around with this look on my face like a toddler who's making dookie. I know. Nice image. Pretty hot.

Anyway, amidst the not-thinking-about- writing, there's the oh- God-you-haven't- started-your-taxes (April 30 is the magic day in Canada.) Then there's little other things like the paper. I had a funny thought reading the Arts Section in the Globe & Mail today. It was very unsatisfying -- it has been the last three weeks running... and it occurred to me why.

Flipping through, every article in the Globe Review is about the Establishment. The Canadian Establishment. There's Atom Egoyan. There's Don McKellar. Another profile on Bonnie Fuller -- Jesus. (Nice language for Easter, I know, but c'mon.) When I read the NY Times Arts & Leisure section on Sunday, there's always a profile of someone interesting who's unknown to me. An up-and-comer. I read The Playlist and learn about musicians I haven't heard. I read a profile of a writer I don't know. I don't know why the Times can do it, but Canada's National Newspaper can't. Maybe because they're too busy taking articles from the New York Times. Sigh.

Anyway -- the coffee is gone. The paper is dull. The sun is shining and it's a beautiful clear day, so it's probably time to get out and not work some more.

One other thing happened this week. And this one was pretty good. I was on a panel at a University writing class. The three of us (another writer, and an agent) were critiquing the graduating students' writing project, which was a bible and scripts for an original series. There were about five groups, and they all had strengths and weaknesses in their work. But as the class was coming to a close, I said something to them that I really believe. I told them that as writers, the one thing that they had to offer was whatever made them unique. It wasn't knowing about pop culture. It wasn't being clever or funny or even a good writer -- though all those help. I said that the thing that mattered most was that they looked at the world like no one else. And so the best thing they could do was go out and live an interesting life; to get outside their wheelhouse and comfort zone, go places you never thought you would go, listen to music that you've never heard before. Read books blindly. And love the same way.

After the class was over, a couple of students came up and thanked me and asked if I knew that this was their last class. I shook my head 'no.' And one of them, kinda choked up, said that that advice was the last thing they learned in University.

That was pretty cool. Now I guess I gotta get out of this condo, and practice what I preach.

Hope you're enjoying your weekend. Happy Easter, Happy Passover, Happy Spring to all.

Fred Goss Speaks! Re: Sons & Daughters

But not to me.

Diane Kristine is the kind of fan you want to have. Her blog, Unified Theory of Nothing Much (it's in the sidebar) is a consistently good read by a sometime writer, journalist and fan. Diane is a self-admitted House obsessive, and her posts on each episode are invariably entertaining -- a superior mix of practical analysis and sheer delighted crushing.

She also shows the gumption to go out there and get the kind of interviews that might seem self serving if she was a baby writer or screenwriting aspirant. I learn a lot from these periodic interviews and I'm sure you will too.

Her latest is with Fred Goss, co-creator and star of Sons & Daughters. There's some great insight into how the show works, where he comes from (he's an editor; I knew it!) and a few choice thoughts about the show's reception and future. He sounds like an extraordinarily evenhanded bloke. I hope his show gets another shot.

Diane has generously and lovingly posted the full Fred Goss interview here.

You may notice I've been jazz-handsing the last few days. It's been extremely busy. I'm juggling the work on my new show, ATR, as well as doing a writing room on another project (which was loads of fun! Seriously!) and today, I spoke as part of a panel to a very fresh-faced, kind, and remarkably frightened-looking group of graduating University TV writing students.

I hope once I get tomorrow's banking, conference call, doctor's appointment and errands out of the way, I'll regroup and have more to say. As me Ga once said, "all in good time."

I know someone else said that first -- but she's the one who said it to me.

Sons & Daughters: Another View from South Dakota Dark

I've been reading and enjoying Todd's blog, South Dakota Dark for a while now. He thinks a lot about TV. There should be more of us who do that. Check out these thoughts on Sons & Daughters. His thoughts about the use of improv in the show, and how it may have been ill-served by ABC's promo department are right on the money.

Canada-Russia '72

To any Canadian alive at the time, it's as iconic (and a lot more pleasurable) as "where were you when Kennedy was shot?" Here the question is "Where were you when Paul Henderson scored against the Red Army team in Game 8 in Moscow?"

Okay, not as catchy. But it's a revelatory moment in Canadian history and nationhood, believe it or not. As well as one of the few common touchstones to span about three generations.

There have been documentaries galore on the Summit series of 1972, which pitted Canadian-born NHL all stars like Phil Esposito, Bobby Clarke, Henderson, Ken Dryden et al vs the Russian national team -- but there has never been a movie or miniseries on the event.

It's a daunting prospect, to be sure. You're venturing into the land of cherished myth. There are people who obsess over what the sticks and the skates look like, what every play looked like. The DVD of all 7 games, in their grainy videotape glory, is a top seller here in Canada. (I even got it for my birthday last year.)

So? How'd it do?

Pretty good, all told. Canada-Russia '72, which aired Sunday and Monday nights on CBC in Canada, took a fly-on-the-wall documentary style to explore the background and foreground stories of the 8 game series that shook up sleepy Canada and the Soviet behemoth. The details were right, and the drama was there. Surprisingly -- for a story where everyone knows how it's going to turn out -- the whole thing was tense.

Plus, the series (and the series) reveals to me something profound about the Canadian character that screenwriters here ignore at their peril.

In the series in 1972, as the series shows, the Canadian team went in heavily favored, and was quickly shocked and humbled by the speed, seriousness, and skill of the Russian players. The first few games in Canada went so roughly that by the time the team stepped on the ice in Vancouver for the last game, the mostly-Canadian crowd cheered the Soviets and booed the Canadians.

The Americans reading this just went, "wha?" That's right. They booed the home team.

It's only in Russia, when the Canadian squad became the underdogs, that Canadians rallied 'round the squad, as they went on to win the last three games straight, despite constant bad talk, and worse officiating.

Being the underdog is an essential component of Canadian storytelling. Canadians tend to despise people who make too much of themselves, who talk too loud and claim too much. Canadians are far more fond of Conrad Black now that he's disgraced than they ever were of him at his peak of power. The series also subtly makes the point that hockey is working class: the middle class, one character says, will never forgive the Canadians if they win -- because they're loutish and rough in play. But the working class -- that's another story.

We don't talk a lot about class in Canada. Mainly, I think, because those of us who are in the media elite certainly aspire to, if not always achieve -- a kind of bourgeois membership in the club. And that's where our disconnect comes.

A cherished part of American myth -- and sadly, it seems more and more of a myth these days -- is that anyone can make it. Americans venerate and lionize the little guy who works himself up, who never gives up and thinks he can get to the top. But Canadians have always been more pessimistic. That's why they got behind nationalized health care. The mentality here is more accurately: sometimes the deck is stacked against you and you can't win, and the real victory is to survive and provide for yourself and your family while maintaining your dignity. (Peace order & Good Government vs. Life, Liberty & the pursuit of happiness.)

Geopolitically, that kind of reflects the relative positions of the two countries next to each other. Besides the excitement of the story, Canada - Russia '72 ultimately worked, I think, because it understood that. It got something about the character of Canadians that the rich kids and middle class types trying to make Canadian stories don't always get.

It's no surprise to me. One of the creative forces behind the miniseries, Barrie Dunn, is also one of the leading lights behind Trailer Park Boys -- another shaggy Canadian hit that celebrates working class people. Corner Gas, too, when you think about it, has very little highfalutin content or character.

I haven't seen any overnight ratings for the miniseries, which makes me worry that it didn't do too well. I hope that's not the case. I think there's a lesson to be learned from this miniseries: not just by CBC who paid for it and showed it, but by all who try to create cultural products in this country.

CBC's two for two in their recent miniseries: Tommy Douglas and Hockey. Who says national mythologies can't sell?

Damnit.

A whole post on Canada-Russia '72 -- the miniseries, didn't get posted.
Blogger, you suck.

Hopefully it's on my other computer and I'll try to get it up later.

In the meantime, anyone have a good recipe they'd like to share?

You know what else?

Getting up in the morning sucks.

Dead Things Blind Item

Guess what? Your intrepid Stickster has some good news. I have, through that long and winding, thorny, professional road, been privileged to watch almost the entire first season of a new Canadian TV show that will hit air this fall.

It's good. Actually, it's pretty great.

Add to that a couple of shows that I've read scripts for, or helped out on. One's on the verge of a pickup, (C'mon already. Brilliance is like a flower...water it with your greenlight!) and the other's in active development. All three are actually no-bullshit, promise ya, cross my heart and hope to spit laugh out loud funny.)

In other words, there is the potential for at least three -- count'em -- three good original comedies on Canadian airwaves later in 2006 or 2007.

Could it be so? Could it be?