Well, little overnight Reccy to Detroit and Windsor for a project tomorrow.
Some big new TV tomorrow -- Sons & Daughters, The Unit -- I'll be watching them when I get back -- but in the meantime, feel free to leave your reviews below in comments.
Monday, March 6, 2006
Sunday, March 5, 2006
Schreibers!
Sometimes you gotta love those little info-things the Academy does as the people walk up. I'm sitting there and thinking, "Larry McMurtry DIDN'T win for Last Picture Show?"
Hey, just checked...THAT was a category. French Connection AND Clockwork Orange?
I wish that Good Night and Good Luck won the original category. But I can't say I didn't enjoy Crash. Just not as much as everyone demanded we enjoy it. But that was a pretty classy speech.
Hey, just checked...THAT was a category. French Connection AND Clockwork Orange?
I wish that Good Night and Good Luck won the original category. But I can't say I didn't enjoy Crash. Just not as much as everyone demanded we enjoy it. But that was a pretty classy speech.
Tsotsi!
Yes!
A great film.
Boy, I hope Cape Town's celebrating -- uh...tomorrow morning, I guess...
WAY TO GO SOUTH AFRICA!
Another shot to a film industry that's great and growing!
A great film.
Boy, I hope Cape Town's celebrating -- uh...tomorrow morning, I guess...
WAY TO GO SOUTH AFRICA!
Another shot to a film industry that's great and growing!
Oscar Geek alert.
Heh heh. How did I miss that Bird York is also the actress who played Toby's wife on West Wing? Heh heh.
Hope she wins.
To Itunes, now.
PS - Should I be worried that I'm het, yet still want to sleep with George Clooney?
Hope she wins.
To Itunes, now.
PS - Should I be worried that I'm het, yet still want to sleep with George Clooney?
Natalie Portman kicks it old school on SNL
I'm sure that YouTube will be forced to take this down just like with "Lazy Sunday" but it's worth checking out while you can.
UPDATE: don't bother. It's gone. Wow. It doesn't take them NBC lawyers long at all, do it?
The thing that it doesn't show is that, as often happens when they take that three week layoff, SNL came back loaded for bear last night. Portman was a pretty fearless host, and very funny. She even took part in a Professional joke in the monologue with Chris Parnell that came right up to the edge of disgusting. And, you know...crossed it. Wow. Really fearless. The Smigel was funny as always, and there were some scabrously funny sketches that -- yay -- weren't tv parodies for a change.
Probably the most I've laughed at an SNL in five years. And if you can do that to me when I'm nursing a petit mal on a Sunday morning, well hell son, that's saying something.
UPDATE: don't bother. It's gone. Wow. It doesn't take them NBC lawyers long at all, do it?
The thing that it doesn't show is that, as often happens when they take that three week layoff, SNL came back loaded for bear last night. Portman was a pretty fearless host, and very funny. She even took part in a Professional joke in the monologue with Chris Parnell that came right up to the edge of disgusting. And, you know...crossed it. Wow. Really fearless. The Smigel was funny as always, and there were some scabrously funny sketches that -- yay -- weren't tv parodies for a change.
Probably the most I've laughed at an SNL in five years. And if you can do that to me when I'm nursing a petit mal on a Sunday morning, well hell son, that's saying something.
Saturday, March 4, 2006
All The Pretty Lawyers
The great, irascible Tom Shales takes a potshot at Dick "this isn't L&O" Wolf's Conviction.
It's funny. I watched the pilot of this last night and I found myself thinking a lot of things that aren't necessarily about the show. It's that kind of show - diverting, but not absorbing.
The first thing that occurred to me is that Dick Wolf does have an eye for casting. If this catches, could it finally be the show that makes Eric Balfour a star? Then there's Milena Govich, a standout from Rescue Me. Jordan Bridges is surprisingly effective as our young naif on his first day on the job. He looks like Kevin Arnold from The Wonder Years all growed up.
I gather the carryover here is Stephanie Karp from L&O:SVU, which I haven't watched since Belzer came on and started playing Munch-lite.
Everyone is very pretty, and lordyloo, they do not know what they're doing, but they do like to have the sex. In fact, watching Conviction, I had an eerie flashback to the first time I saw Grey's Anatomy. It's got that feel to it. Whether it keeps an audience, I think, largely depends on how much people like these characters. (Which sounds obvious, I know -- but it's actually quite a departure for a Dick Wolf show.)
As a half-step away from the L&O straitjacket, it's probably a good thing. The acting's good. I wish they'd pulled the Buffy-trick and put Elias Koteas in the opening credits, so that his particular plot-turn came as more of a surprise.
The writing was workmanlike. Which means it was fine. Which means it could probably catch on -- but is the audience for this show home on Friday night? I would think that this could maybe NBC's answer to Grey's -- if they're even looking for that.
I also thought a bit about This is Wonderland, the canceled CBC show that's now got a bit of a letter-writing campaign behind it. (If only these people had watched it or shown this kind of support before, then maybe...) Funnily enough, the pilot for Conviction had a lot in common with the pilot for Wonderland.
Except --
There was more sex. Somebody died. There were quiet moments among the screaming.
For as much as the CBC's current "we're going to be popular by being popular" circular argument is silly, if you watch the pilots to Conviction and Wonderland -- I think you might just be able to scratch that head and say, "ohhhh....that's what you have to do to be broad-based popular..."
It will be interesting to see if Conviction ultimately works. The inner viewers in me puts it in the "If I was home, I might watch it again" category; as a professional observer, I'll probably tune it in a couple more times.
But offering the pilot as a free download on Itunes? (alas, USA only...) Maybe they can reach that younger audience. Hmmm...that might just be the most interesting thing about the new show.
Short Hits
It's been a little of this, little of that the last few days here at Dead Things Labs. I'm prepping for a day trip next week that's very top-secret project related -- and will hopefully be inspirational for one of the series I'm trying to crank out right now. It's a pretty key time for that project, and knowing that my focus is going to have be laser-beam intense over the next two weeks, I've been trying to build in some valve time. That leads to diversions.
Diversion One: David Kipen's The Schreiber Theory.
Kipen is now a big cheese at the NEA, I believe, but I always enjoyed his reviews, esp. when he was on KCRW. In this slim little volume, he's taking on the steaming pile of turd that is the auteur theory. "Schreiber" apparently is Yiddish for writer. Jesus, I know I'm an Irish kid from the Bronx, but boy I wish I spoke Yiddish. Anyway... The manifesto part is interesting enough. He does a tip of the hat to other anti-auteurists like Schickel, but the really valuable second part of the book is the list he has of screenwriters, his first attempt to try and promote a way of looking at film through the obsessions of its writers, not the glorified camera jockeys who grab all that undeserved glory. (Trash talking! It's fun!) I'm going to go through some of his lists and do a screenwriter screening as soon as I've got the time.
Diversion Two: Network: Special Edition.
One of my favorite movies, of course. I've been looking forward to this special edition for a while. There's an hour and a half documentary that's just excellent on the whole making of the movie. Sidney Lumet is front and centre through the whole thing, and you see why he's such an effective director, and such a class act.
What makes Lumet doubly interesting is how much he talks about the comedy and the tone, and how tightly he reined in the actors by making the script the king. I'd forgotten that the movie actually was titled Network by Paddy Chayefsky. Lumet makes that absolutely clear here -- that the vision he was trying to bring to life was Chayefsky's. (Hilariously, of course, on Amazon there's no mention of Chayefsky. Typical)
Lumet is candid and illuminating talking about story, and how he and Chayefsky collaborated, how much rehearsal helped things, and how they talked Faye Dunaway into giving such a brilliant but unsympathetic peformance.
There's a couple anecdotes that I won't spoil about specific times when Chayefsky stepped in and taught Lumet how not to crush the laugh in his material. Lumet is my kind of guy -- he's clear that he and Chayefsky fought -- but that the creative process they were partners in demanded that, and that the material was all that mattered.
If you're an insecure director who's done three margarine ads and is rushing to take that A Film By credit, this whole special edition is going to give you nothing but agita.
It's also nice to see Cronkite pop up.
It's almost a cliche now to point out that Network, viewed 30 years on, looks almost like a documentary rather than a satire -- but what's most sobering about this time trip are the things you realize when you watch. This movie was released by a major studio. It was a hit. Not a huge hit, maybe, but it made money. It is funny, but it's also sophisticated -- in a way that doesn't play wide today. There were some revelations that were a little more prosaic -- like, for instance, I had no idea that the studio sequences were shot in Toronto.
But to me, the price of admission are two excellent features: the AMC movie show that has a full session with Lumet, and a 1976 Chayefsky interview on the Dinah Shore show.
The latter is really the mind bender. First, here's a screenwriter sitting there - smoking - on a daytime talkshow. Talking about a movie like this. Talking about the control the media has. He tells an anecdote about waiting in line for valet parking, and how a guy comes out and says, "I'm the green Lincoln" and everyone clucks and reacts horrified by the implications, the dehumanization of it.
I mean, Jesus -- he's right, but today would anyone give that a second thought? Watching that interview, seeing the serious content being discussed on what was a daytime talk show is just mindblowing. And much as I feel kindred to Chayefsky and his way of looking at the world-that-would-come-after-his-early-death -- I know I am a product of the times after. Cause I'm watching Dinah Shore, and you know what I'm thinking?
Heh. She f***ed Burt Reynolds.
True dat.
(Network is available in a six disc Controversial Classics collection with new Special Editions of Dog Day Afternoon and All The President's Men. The extras on President's Men are also first rate, though I haven't dipped into the commentaries yet.)
Diversion One: David Kipen's The Schreiber Theory.
Kipen is now a big cheese at the NEA, I believe, but I always enjoyed his reviews, esp. when he was on KCRW. In this slim little volume, he's taking on the steaming pile of turd that is the auteur theory. "Schreiber" apparently is Yiddish for writer. Jesus, I know I'm an Irish kid from the Bronx, but boy I wish I spoke Yiddish. Anyway... The manifesto part is interesting enough. He does a tip of the hat to other anti-auteurists like Schickel, but the really valuable second part of the book is the list he has of screenwriters, his first attempt to try and promote a way of looking at film through the obsessions of its writers, not the glorified camera jockeys who grab all that undeserved glory. (Trash talking! It's fun!) I'm going to go through some of his lists and do a screenwriter screening as soon as I've got the time.
Diversion Two: Network: Special Edition.
One of my favorite movies, of course. I've been looking forward to this special edition for a while. There's an hour and a half documentary that's just excellent on the whole making of the movie. Sidney Lumet is front and centre through the whole thing, and you see why he's such an effective director, and such a class act.
What makes Lumet doubly interesting is how much he talks about the comedy and the tone, and how tightly he reined in the actors by making the script the king. I'd forgotten that the movie actually was titled Network by Paddy Chayefsky. Lumet makes that absolutely clear here -- that the vision he was trying to bring to life was Chayefsky's. (Hilariously, of course, on Amazon there's no mention of Chayefsky. Typical)
Lumet is candid and illuminating talking about story, and how he and Chayefsky collaborated, how much rehearsal helped things, and how they talked Faye Dunaway into giving such a brilliant but unsympathetic peformance.
There's a couple anecdotes that I won't spoil about specific times when Chayefsky stepped in and taught Lumet how not to crush the laugh in his material. Lumet is my kind of guy -- he's clear that he and Chayefsky fought -- but that the creative process they were partners in demanded that, and that the material was all that mattered.
If you're an insecure director who's done three margarine ads and is rushing to take that A Film By credit, this whole special edition is going to give you nothing but agita.
It's also nice to see Cronkite pop up.
It's almost a cliche now to point out that Network, viewed 30 years on, looks almost like a documentary rather than a satire -- but what's most sobering about this time trip are the things you realize when you watch. This movie was released by a major studio. It was a hit. Not a huge hit, maybe, but it made money. It is funny, but it's also sophisticated -- in a way that doesn't play wide today. There were some revelations that were a little more prosaic -- like, for instance, I had no idea that the studio sequences were shot in Toronto.
But to me, the price of admission are two excellent features: the AMC movie show that has a full session with Lumet, and a 1976 Chayefsky interview on the Dinah Shore show.
The latter is really the mind bender. First, here's a screenwriter sitting there - smoking - on a daytime talkshow. Talking about a movie like this. Talking about the control the media has. He tells an anecdote about waiting in line for valet parking, and how a guy comes out and says, "I'm the green Lincoln" and everyone clucks and reacts horrified by the implications, the dehumanization of it.
I mean, Jesus -- he's right, but today would anyone give that a second thought? Watching that interview, seeing the serious content being discussed on what was a daytime talk show is just mindblowing. And much as I feel kindred to Chayefsky and his way of looking at the world-that-would-come-after-his-early-death -- I know I am a product of the times after. Cause I'm watching Dinah Shore, and you know what I'm thinking?
Heh. She f***ed Burt Reynolds.
True dat.
(Network is available in a six disc Controversial Classics collection with new Special Editions of Dog Day Afternoon and All The President's Men. The extras on President's Men are also first rate, though I haven't dipped into the commentaries yet.)
Friday, March 3, 2006
Thursday, March 2, 2006
Dying is Easy, Three: This Time It's Personal.
What do we do about comedy? Seriously?
It's a question much on the minds of mandarins and networkies everywhere. This season, we've already had a half hour, How I Met Your Mother, that's noteworthy for the fact that a show that's marginal-at-best can be seriously overpraised now, just cause the field is so anemic. A couple years ago, Two and a Half Men filled that psychic sweet spot. The reality is that the mighty half-hour comedy engine has been sputtering diesel oil and PCB's for several seasons now.
There are shows that solidly deliver laughs, of course...Scrubs, for one. Nobody's really watching. Arrested was a gutbuster. Ditto. There's Earl and The Office staking out Thursdays on NBC, but they're a long way in the ratings from those glory days of Cheers and Seinfeld. Now, Will & Grace is gone too.
In Canada, it's worse. Corner Gas. Maybe Trailer Park Boys. That's it. Jerry Seinfeld once famously observed, "I'm not sure comedy wants to be a movie." Well, it certainly doesn't seem to be too horny for TV these days, either.
So out of this comes a vague hope: ape Curb. Bravo in the U.S. had a bit of luck with Significant Others -- a show I haven't seen -- so the new rage is partially scripted. Hey, why not? The shows aren't working. Must be all the writers. Let's throw them out and see how we do.
Except, of course, Larry David is a writer. Some might be cheeky and say the writer. I've never been as much of a fan of Curb as some, but there's no denying that it's funny. That ensemble is talented, and tight. I'm not sure it's a trend that can transfer -- and even if it can, it's not the magic bullet to cure comedy. Anyone who's suffered through an entire improv "show" can tell you that.
So now a couple of mid-season U.S. shows are clinging to the partially scripted come on as a possible defribulator -- a much needed shock-to-the-heart of the moribund state of television comedy in North America.
How are they doing?
Well the first two candidates are Free Ride and Sons & Daughters. I must say that the promos for Sons & Daughters are certainly funny. But FOX got out of the gate first with its semi-scripted Free Ride, which bowed last night after American Idol -- predictably, to great post-Idol ratings. Ryan Seacrest, ladies and gentleman -- the most important tastemaker in America. Brrrrr.
Free Ride doesn't have anything close to an original premise: guy returns from college and moves back in with his parents, whilst trying to romance a high school crush who's recently engaged. Shades of Ed, Garden State, Get a Life, and half a dozen other workmanlike concepts through the years. He's got a jerky mullet-headed sidekick, much mirth is made of his parents' attempts to have sex and get along. The whole thing actually comes off as reasonably joyless -- and that's with a very likable cast trying really hard. Josh Dean and Erin Cahill are cute, and diverting. And the shaggy rhythm of improvisation means that it's not labored like the worst of the clone-sitcoms we've seen for the last few years. But as for the central conceit, there's a commercial that runs here right now in Ontario that covers the same ground: old parents redecorate their sons' bedroom, throw out all his cool stuff, and put up a moose head. Turns out he loves it. He sits down to dinner with them and this old woman walks out of nowhere and rasps in this death-rattle voice: "Want your kids to leave home? Stop cooking with cheese!"
That commercial is funnier than this whole series. That's sad.
The series inherits the post-Family Guy slot Sundays starting March 12, but seeing that's also S-Day in my household, I think the likelihood of this show getting another click from me is pretty low. Only the first ride is free, guys. (Oh, see what I did there? Yes he did. He went there. Snap.)
In Canada, we had our own cute and shaggy little post-Idol carpetbagger, Jeff Ltd. which is written by and stars Jeff Seymour.
I don't know how much improv was involved in this show. It's possible, since the star also is the scriptwriter -- something that always sets off little alarm bells for me. But it's certainly not trying to run with the partially scripted ball like Free Ride, Sons & Daughters, or Curb.
This show is a bit more problematic. I want to be a cheerleader for my industry and local talent, I really do, but sadly the best thing I can say about Jeff Ltd. is that it's directed pretty well: there's a nice, crisp movement to Steve DiMarco's camera that makes me want to see more from him. I've seen comedy killed in Canada by bad direction. This is not that.
No, this is exactly the thing that you have to come to expect when an actor overextends himself. Jeff Seymour's a good performer, and he can be magnetic. But not in this show. Why not? He's got no character. There's nothing to suggest why you should watch this guy, like him, hate him, care what happens for him, wish for him to succeed, or root for him to fail.
You know how Larry David on Curb often starts out with the best of intentions, and then it all goes to hell and that's why it's funny?
Well, Jeff in Jeff Ltd. is a marketing guy. He's venal, shallow, opportunistic, with a huge ego. He's driven by greed and lust. Sounds good so far, right? He's got a female partner/co-worker. How does she feel about him? Vague disapproval, but ... otherwise unclear. He's got a sidekick, but...well, that's unclear, too. He casts an Eastern European stripper in a World Food Organization ad and sleeps with her. At the same time, he's trying to romance a teacher who teaches at the Catholic girls' school across the street. Just so you get that Jeff's a bit of a cad, there's a couple of scenes of him checking out the schoolgirls' short skirts. In the end, the teacher catches him fucking the stripper on a hood of a car. She drives off horrified, and he runs after her...
...but...why? You know? I mean, there's nothing that's been put out there to tell you why he actually cares about this woman. Why would he bother chasing after her? Why do his co-workers act the way they do? Why don't they have characters? Why is no one allowed to outshine or upstage Jeff, even for a moment? And why should we care about Jeff, even for a second, when he shows no redeeming or even interesting qualities whatsoever?
Does that sound harsh? I don't mean it to be. But watching this pilot, I was just shocked by the number of easy, clarifying fixes that could have made the thing funnier and clearer, that were just missed opportunities. If the female co-worker had been Jeff's boss, then he would have had to scheme without her catching on. There's a hint of that in there still, but it doesn't go far enough. What's the stake? Beats me. This is sometimes the blind spot that actors bring to actor-driven projects. They assume that if they're a compelling enough performer, that the viewer will just fall into line and love them. But that's not the way it works. It's understandable if you come from the school where "you create the character you play." But the character, like it or not, has to exist on the page before you pick up and imbue them with life. That's the common thing that both these semi-scripted shows, and Jeff Ltd. seems to miss.
A character who's slightly unlikable but still compelling? See, that kind of character is a real trick to pull off. Steve Carell and Ricky Gervais pull it off in their respective flavours of The Office because you see the loneliness and need lurking just underneath the surface. Larry on Curb is at least trying to do the right thing --sometimes.
Recently, I've been watching back one of those legendary old comedy series that never caught on but everyone still talks about: Buffalo Bill. At the time, Dabney Coleman's character was considered just too mean. (Now, of course, Hugh Laurie's Dr. House would have him for lunch and cure his ball cancer too -- probably while inducing a therpeutic heart attack.) You know the genre's in trouble when the funniest characters are on Drama shows.
Even in Buffalo Bill there's a window in. Because though he's a cad, he's got the love of Joanna Cassidy's character, JoJo...he's got admiration from a very young Geena Davis, and that other actor who did the voice of Piglet back in the day. See? He may seem like he's a jerk, but these other people see something in him...so there must be something else going on there.
Go back to the well on Cheers and in that first episode, you've got a tough sell. Sam Malone is a womanizing, ex-baseball player, alcoholic who owns a bar. But you know what? By the end of that first episode you see how much he loves Coach, how loyal he is to Carla, and he's even decent to Diane when her fiance leaves her high and dry. That's why you want to come back.
It's not enough to ask us to care about characters because they're the leads in your series. What is the world? Who are the people in it? How do they feel about each other? And why do I want to go back there again? Ultimately, by the end of Free Ride and Jeff Ltd. none of those questions are answered. And that's why I don't want to go back.
This is about the time that I'd get depressed. Luckily, in the last couple of weeks, I've read a couple of half-hour series scripts that are either shooting or on the verge of (hopefully) going into production -- and these scripts have heard. They hit all those points. You see the world, you get the relationships, and you want to come back. It can be done.
Improv isn't the answer, and neither is widening the auteur theory to include Actors. The answer is writing. Heartfelt, funny, well-drawn characters. A solid template. A believable world. An engaging premise.
Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.
But that's just me.
I could be wrong.
It's a question much on the minds of mandarins and networkies everywhere. This season, we've already had a half hour, How I Met Your Mother, that's noteworthy for the fact that a show that's marginal-at-best can be seriously overpraised now, just cause the field is so anemic. A couple years ago, Two and a Half Men filled that psychic sweet spot. The reality is that the mighty half-hour comedy engine has been sputtering diesel oil and PCB's for several seasons now.
There are shows that solidly deliver laughs, of course...Scrubs, for one. Nobody's really watching. Arrested was a gutbuster. Ditto. There's Earl and The Office staking out Thursdays on NBC, but they're a long way in the ratings from those glory days of Cheers and Seinfeld. Now, Will & Grace is gone too.
In Canada, it's worse. Corner Gas. Maybe Trailer Park Boys. That's it. Jerry Seinfeld once famously observed, "I'm not sure comedy wants to be a movie." Well, it certainly doesn't seem to be too horny for TV these days, either.
So out of this comes a vague hope: ape Curb. Bravo in the U.S. had a bit of luck with Significant Others -- a show I haven't seen -- so the new rage is partially scripted. Hey, why not? The shows aren't working. Must be all the writers. Let's throw them out and see how we do.
Except, of course, Larry David is a writer. Some might be cheeky and say the writer. I've never been as much of a fan of Curb as some, but there's no denying that it's funny. That ensemble is talented, and tight. I'm not sure it's a trend that can transfer -- and even if it can, it's not the magic bullet to cure comedy. Anyone who's suffered through an entire improv "show" can tell you that.
So now a couple of mid-season U.S. shows are clinging to the partially scripted come on as a possible defribulator -- a much needed shock-to-the-heart of the moribund state of television comedy in North America.
How are they doing?
Well the first two candidates are Free Ride and Sons & Daughters. I must say that the promos for Sons & Daughters are certainly funny. But FOX got out of the gate first with its semi-scripted Free Ride, which bowed last night after American Idol -- predictably, to great post-Idol ratings. Ryan Seacrest, ladies and gentleman -- the most important tastemaker in America. Brrrrr.
Free Ride doesn't have anything close to an original premise: guy returns from college and moves back in with his parents, whilst trying to romance a high school crush who's recently engaged. Shades of Ed, Garden State, Get a Life, and half a dozen other workmanlike concepts through the years. He's got a jerky mullet-headed sidekick, much mirth is made of his parents' attempts to have sex and get along. The whole thing actually comes off as reasonably joyless -- and that's with a very likable cast trying really hard. Josh Dean and Erin Cahill are cute, and diverting. And the shaggy rhythm of improvisation means that it's not labored like the worst of the clone-sitcoms we've seen for the last few years. But as for the central conceit, there's a commercial that runs here right now in Ontario that covers the same ground: old parents redecorate their sons' bedroom, throw out all his cool stuff, and put up a moose head. Turns out he loves it. He sits down to dinner with them and this old woman walks out of nowhere and rasps in this death-rattle voice: "Want your kids to leave home? Stop cooking with cheese!"
That commercial is funnier than this whole series. That's sad.
The series inherits the post-Family Guy slot Sundays starting March 12, but seeing that's also S-Day in my household, I think the likelihood of this show getting another click from me is pretty low. Only the first ride is free, guys. (Oh, see what I did there? Yes he did. He went there. Snap.)
In Canada, we had our own cute and shaggy little post-Idol carpetbagger, Jeff Ltd. which is written by and stars Jeff Seymour.
I don't know how much improv was involved in this show. It's possible, since the star also is the scriptwriter -- something that always sets off little alarm bells for me. But it's certainly not trying to run with the partially scripted ball like Free Ride, Sons & Daughters, or Curb.
This show is a bit more problematic. I want to be a cheerleader for my industry and local talent, I really do, but sadly the best thing I can say about Jeff Ltd. is that it's directed pretty well: there's a nice, crisp movement to Steve DiMarco's camera that makes me want to see more from him. I've seen comedy killed in Canada by bad direction. This is not that.
No, this is exactly the thing that you have to come to expect when an actor overextends himself. Jeff Seymour's a good performer, and he can be magnetic. But not in this show. Why not? He's got no character. There's nothing to suggest why you should watch this guy, like him, hate him, care what happens for him, wish for him to succeed, or root for him to fail.
You know how Larry David on Curb often starts out with the best of intentions, and then it all goes to hell and that's why it's funny?
Well, Jeff in Jeff Ltd. is a marketing guy. He's venal, shallow, opportunistic, with a huge ego. He's driven by greed and lust. Sounds good so far, right? He's got a female partner/co-worker. How does she feel about him? Vague disapproval, but ... otherwise unclear. He's got a sidekick, but...well, that's unclear, too. He casts an Eastern European stripper in a World Food Organization ad and sleeps with her. At the same time, he's trying to romance a teacher who teaches at the Catholic girls' school across the street. Just so you get that Jeff's a bit of a cad, there's a couple of scenes of him checking out the schoolgirls' short skirts. In the end, the teacher catches him fucking the stripper on a hood of a car. She drives off horrified, and he runs after her...
...but...why? You know? I mean, there's nothing that's been put out there to tell you why he actually cares about this woman. Why would he bother chasing after her? Why do his co-workers act the way they do? Why don't they have characters? Why is no one allowed to outshine or upstage Jeff, even for a moment? And why should we care about Jeff, even for a second, when he shows no redeeming or even interesting qualities whatsoever?
Does that sound harsh? I don't mean it to be. But watching this pilot, I was just shocked by the number of easy, clarifying fixes that could have made the thing funnier and clearer, that were just missed opportunities. If the female co-worker had been Jeff's boss, then he would have had to scheme without her catching on. There's a hint of that in there still, but it doesn't go far enough. What's the stake? Beats me. This is sometimes the blind spot that actors bring to actor-driven projects. They assume that if they're a compelling enough performer, that the viewer will just fall into line and love them. But that's not the way it works. It's understandable if you come from the school where "you create the character you play." But the character, like it or not, has to exist on the page before you pick up and imbue them with life. That's the common thing that both these semi-scripted shows, and Jeff Ltd. seems to miss.
A character who's slightly unlikable but still compelling? See, that kind of character is a real trick to pull off. Steve Carell and Ricky Gervais pull it off in their respective flavours of The Office because you see the loneliness and need lurking just underneath the surface. Larry on Curb is at least trying to do the right thing --sometimes.
Recently, I've been watching back one of those legendary old comedy series that never caught on but everyone still talks about: Buffalo Bill. At the time, Dabney Coleman's character was considered just too mean. (Now, of course, Hugh Laurie's Dr. House would have him for lunch and cure his ball cancer too -- probably while inducing a therpeutic heart attack.) You know the genre's in trouble when the funniest characters are on Drama shows.
Even in Buffalo Bill there's a window in. Because though he's a cad, he's got the love of Joanna Cassidy's character, JoJo...he's got admiration from a very young Geena Davis, and that other actor who did the voice of Piglet back in the day. See? He may seem like he's a jerk, but these other people see something in him...so there must be something else going on there.
Go back to the well on Cheers and in that first episode, you've got a tough sell. Sam Malone is a womanizing, ex-baseball player, alcoholic who owns a bar. But you know what? By the end of that first episode you see how much he loves Coach, how loyal he is to Carla, and he's even decent to Diane when her fiance leaves her high and dry. That's why you want to come back.
It's not enough to ask us to care about characters because they're the leads in your series. What is the world? Who are the people in it? How do they feel about each other? And why do I want to go back there again? Ultimately, by the end of Free Ride and Jeff Ltd. none of those questions are answered. And that's why I don't want to go back.
This is about the time that I'd get depressed. Luckily, in the last couple of weeks, I've read a couple of half-hour series scripts that are either shooting or on the verge of (hopefully) going into production -- and these scripts have heard. They hit all those points. You see the world, you get the relationships, and you want to come back. It can be done.
Improv isn't the answer, and neither is widening the auteur theory to include Actors. The answer is writing. Heartfelt, funny, well-drawn characters. A solid template. A believable world. An engaging premise.
Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.
But that's just me.
I could be wrong.
Dishing Life on Mars
Little logrolling to start the morning off right. I'm going to try to get something up about Free Ride and Jeff Ltd. later today. But for now, Danny Stack's got a great convo with one of the creators of the BBC's hit Life On Mars, which will be returning with new episodes next year. (The first series just ended in the UK this week; no word yet on when we'll see it over on these shores.)
Also, can someone fill in my cultural memory hole here: did the 70's British cop show The Sweeney (from which Life on Mars takes much inspiration) ever play in the USA or Canada?
My favorite bit:
This is an incredibly instructive point that can't be overstated -- especially in Canada, where the network people have pretty much all the power, and aren't usually so bold. (It's not the Canadian way to be bold, after all.) But every hit that ever hit needed a network person in their corner -- going out on on a limb.
Shows that EVERYONE AGREES ON never get to be hits. They get to be bland pablum.
Anyway. Go read about Life on Mars. I've got coffee to drink and two scripts to read.
Also, can someone fill in my cultural memory hole here: did the 70's British cop show The Sweeney (from which Life on Mars takes much inspiration) ever play in the USA or Canada?
My favorite bit:
We pitched it to then controller of BBC1 who had some reservations but commissioned Matthew to write a script. After a few drafts the BBC decided to pass on the project. But a BBC producer called John Yorke always liked the idea and when he went to C4 he took the project with him. Matthew wrote dozens of versions of the first episode and we were just about to get a green light when C4 got cold feet and rejected it. By now, though, Julie Gardner was at BBC Wales so Kudos took it to her and she loved it and managed to persuade the powers that be that it was worth making.Once again, multiple network executives, who get cold feet and won't go forward before one brave and smart soul takes the leap. And thus a hit is birthed.
This is an incredibly instructive point that can't be overstated -- especially in Canada, where the network people have pretty much all the power, and aren't usually so bold. (It's not the Canadian way to be bold, after all.) But every hit that ever hit needed a network person in their corner -- going out on on a limb.
Shows that EVERYONE AGREES ON never get to be hits. They get to be bland pablum.
Anyway. Go read about Life on Mars. I've got coffee to drink and two scripts to read.
Wednesday, March 1, 2006
This Cup Can Make You A Better Writer.
Do you recognize this cup?If you're a New Yorker, I'm sure you do. In fact, if you've spent any time in New York at all any time in say the last forty years, you probably recognize this little sucker right away. And I'm betting that there's a hint of a smile on your face.
In the pre-Starbucks days, this is the coffee cup you would get when you grabbed a coffee at any deli anywhere in Manhattan. I've gulped from a cup just like this walking through the East Village. I downed a mouthful of cold coffee out of a cup like this outside CBGB's (along with a handfull of Advil.) One time, when I was about twenty, I picked a cup like this off the ground and put it in the garbage precisely two seconds before the karmic lightning bolt hit and I caught the impossible- to-find-cab- in-the-middle-of- the- rainstorm- when-you're-late- for- the-theater-matinee- because- your-girlfriend- took- such-a-long-time-on -her-hair.
In its own weird way, it's as much an icon of New York City as the Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, or the Twin Towers.
I got thinking about this little cup the other day when my friend Rob was over at Dead Things HQ. Awhile back, I was checking out the MoMa reno in the City, and found this little cup in the gift shop. It's a ceramic replica of the famous paper-coffee cup. At ten bucks, it made me smile. (If it does the same for you, you can get info about how to purchase one here.)
Anyway, Rob was over and we were trying to break a nettlesome story for his series for, like, the sixth time, and he complimented my coffee-making skills. It was good coffee. (Yes, the entire conversation went like this. Very Grade-three-Gay. And don't give me shit for describing it thus...Dan Savage says I'm in the clear.) Anyway, more than the coffee itself, Rob really liked the cup. It evoked in him the same feeling it evoked in me, an instant nostalgia for all things New York.
What struck me later was not how he instantly recognized and responded to the cup the same way I did. I found that utterly unsurprising. Of course he'd dig it. It's yet another case of how our sensibilities are similar.
See, at that point, that little cup could be considered the objective correlative of both our friendship, and of our separate, warm memories of New York.
It's been a while since I talked about the Objective Correlative. Even then, I didn't get into it too much. Danny Stack followed up on the idea with a longer post here.
I guess the reason why I'm returning to the idea again is because lately I've been reading a lot of scripts where people talk about things, but where there isn't a real clear sense of the objective correlative working through the drama. It reads as flat. The simple realization that a tiny object like a coffee cup could make me think of my past, and reaffirm a friendship...well, that's interesting stuff. It's not just drama -- it's life.
T.S. Eliot came up with the Objective Correlative, in his writings on Hamlet. Here's what he said:
The only way of expressing emotion in the form of art is by finding an "objective correlative"; in other words, a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula of that particular emotion; such that when the external facts, which must terminate in sensory experience, are given, the emotion is immediately evoked.That's exactly what happened with me and the coffee cup.
My reaction to the cup evoked everything I mythologize about New York. And later, it indicated camaraderie between me and my friend -- so it took on a separate, instant meaning in a different situation.
Interestingly enough, this little cup's gotten quite a workout -- because now that I think about it, I remember that about six months ago I had a woman over and we were chatting. We'd been out a few times, and it was at that point where you're not sure which way it's going to go. She asked about the cup. I told her the story, and she was utterly unimpressed. She'd been to New York several times. She vaguely remembered the cup. She just thought it was a little...stupid.
Guess what I realized in that moment?
"Damn You, Objective Correlative! Damn You to Hell!"
As I've gotten older, I'm fascinated by the fact that I'm much more interested in Sports than I was when I was younger. My Dad and My Uncle used to take me to Yankees and Blue Jays games, and my Grandfather was a huge Mets fan -- some of my earliest memories of him are watching the game with him on an old black and white TV set. He died when I was seven, so that's a pretty potent memory. But still, I managed to sail through my teenage years and most of my twenties without reading the Sports section daily. Not anymore.I think part of it is that as we get older, Sports increasingly becomes the objective correlative of male friendship. The game allows you to express emotion, bond, catharsis, the whole magilla. The Poker Craze, I believe, is part and parcel of the same thing. I read Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch and laughed my ass off, and I don't give a fig about Soccer.
By looking and finding the objective correlative of emotions in your life you start to unlock the inner life; the one you don't express consciously, but imbue to objects or situations. I think that helps you to unlock a trove that can help you weave the objective correlative more successfully into your art.
Understanding and recognizing the objective correlative in life makes you a better writer.
One totally non-scientific thing I've noticed, for instance, is that women who understand men's attachment to sports, or who appreciate men's penchant for silly or gross humor, kind of tend to understand men better in general.
An acquaintance of mine was having problems in his marriage, at the same time that his old car was constantly breaking down. This went on for a couple of years. One night, like a bolt out of the blue, he realized that he and his wife fought every time there was a problem with the car. Sometimes it was when she had the car -- and he probably blamed her. Sometimes it was when he was driving it, and it made him irritable. It went on and on, and they fought and made up. Then he got a new car. For two months, they didn't fight. But one night, when they did -- they nearly broke up. Their marriage was at the brink, and it caused them to finally face some of the big, structural, ugly things at the core of their marriage. His wife said a lot of the same stuff she'd said before...but finally, finally, he got it. (They're still together, by the way.)
Now...did that have anything to do with the car? Did the car being there offer a valve, a distraction, a symbol that kept them from getting to the core of things? Did removing it remove that valve and force a confrontation? I don't know. What do you think?
I'll tell you what, though, it's a damn sight more interesting than any of the other stories I've heard from half a dozen guys about how they fight with their wives (or ex-wives, as the case may be.)
Writing drama is about coming up with an effective shorthand for life, and putting it down on the page.
Seems to me that old T.S. Eliot gave us a great gift. I knew he did a lot more than come up with those damn singing cats.
I was going to come up with a few more examples from movies and TV -- but maybe that could be the audience participation portion of the post. So come on: what are your favorite filmic examples of the O.C. at work?
Now, I have to go and write a one-pager that basically demonstrates how the O.C. works in my choice of venue for a series pitch I did recently. They bumped on the setting in the meeting, but thanks to a conversation I had last night, I think there may be a way to better explain what I mean. The O.C. is everywhere.
Remember the Cup, Luke.
Electronical Armageddon
It's been a bad 72 hour period here at Dead Things Labs.
First was the inevitable LCD crystal crack of the Ipod Nano. I've been so careful, really. I don't know how it happened. Now the upper half of the crystal is readable, but that's it.
It's a huge pain in the ass.
Then, yesterday, horror of horrors, while reading a script and enjoying one of those fine brands of wobbly pops that the kids love so much, my man-bag fell from the shelf where it was placed lovingly, away from shuffling drunken children's feet. It tumbled to the ground with a sickening thud.
Strangely, the same thing happened in the very establishment approximately a year ago. Then, my beloved G4 Powerbook, which I purchased just before heading off to South Africa, found itself with a bend in the casing near the DVD Superdrive. Later it developed its current malaise -- a faulty venting that means that I often have to work on it with the plug in and the battery out, lest the thing overheat.
This time, there's another bend, and some wobbly badness on the casing of the screen, but so far no new symptoms.
But alas, the other precious was not so lucky. My Pioneer Airware radio, with which I enjoy the charms of XM Satellite Radio, now has a cracked crystal screen. I can now scroll and see the station I'm tuned to...but that is it.
As anyone who's ever experienced this kind of electronical injury knows, the crystal display is never, ever, ever covered under warranty. Yet one more thing that will change when my cult-like armies finally seize control of this benighted republic.
As for now, I'm goddamn bummed out.
First was the inevitable LCD crystal crack of the Ipod Nano. I've been so careful, really. I don't know how it happened. Now the upper half of the crystal is readable, but that's it.
It's a huge pain in the ass.
Then, yesterday, horror of horrors, while reading a script and enjoying one of those fine brands of wobbly pops that the kids love so much, my man-bag fell from the shelf where it was placed lovingly, away from shuffling drunken children's feet. It tumbled to the ground with a sickening thud.
Strangely, the same thing happened in the very establishment approximately a year ago. Then, my beloved G4 Powerbook, which I purchased just before heading off to South Africa, found itself with a bend in the casing near the DVD Superdrive. Later it developed its current malaise -- a faulty venting that means that I often have to work on it with the plug in and the battery out, lest the thing overheat.
This time, there's another bend, and some wobbly badness on the casing of the screen, but so far no new symptoms.
But alas, the other precious was not so lucky. My Pioneer Airware radio, with which I enjoy the charms of XM Satellite Radio, now has a cracked crystal screen. I can now scroll and see the station I'm tuned to...but that is it.
As anyone who's ever experienced this kind of electronical injury knows, the crystal display is never, ever, ever covered under warranty. Yet one more thing that will change when my cult-like armies finally seize control of this benighted republic.
As for now, I'm goddamn bummed out.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
"I smoke too much. I drink too much. I am too much."
How did I miss this?
I love Cracker. I love it to pieces. And I have to find out at a poker game that Jimmy McGovern, Fitz, Manchester and Robbie Coltrane are all going to be back on my TV sometime in 2006, even for two hours?
Is it my birthday?
Sure, it'll be weird to see that Jeff guy from Coupling as the new boss, but if you tell me that Penhaligon's back, I don't know what I'll do.
I love Cracker. I love it to pieces. And I have to find out at a poker game that Jimmy McGovern, Fitz, Manchester and Robbie Coltrane are all going to be back on my TV sometime in 2006, even for two hours?
Is it my birthday?
Sure, it'll be weird to see that Jeff guy from Coupling as the new boss, but if you tell me that Penhaligon's back, I don't know what I'll do.
Monday, February 27, 2006
"Pray with Me, Mike..."
Just in case you didn't get the President-Logan-as-President Nixon metaphor.
Heh heh.
Heh heh.
Ricky hearts Steve
Oh DEAR.
Canadians, in particular, are going to hate this.
My favorite quote:
I liked the American Office as soon as it came out. I thought it was well cast, and well executed, and really just needed time to emerge from the shadow of Gervais' personality. That was not a popular view in Canada.
They were wrong. Yet, strangely, not a lot of retractions.
Of course, there never are.
Canadians, in particular, are going to hate this.
My favorite quote:
"I think American TV is the best in the world. I knew 'The Office' wouldn't be ruined by these people," he says. "But I know American shows would be ruined by English people. We're not as good as you. ... American TV for me, as Randy Jackson would say, is da bomb."
I liked the American Office as soon as it came out. I thought it was well cast, and well executed, and really just needed time to emerge from the shadow of Gervais' personality. That was not a popular view in Canada.
They were wrong. Yet, strangely, not a lot of retractions.
Of course, there never are.
CTV Brings the Funny Wednesday, Post Idol
CTV, one of Canada's private TV networks, is a 900 lb. gorilla right now.
They have all the best U.S. programs...they win the ratings every night of the week. They're so unbeatable, they have all these Canadian shows on the shelf, just waiting for something to be canceled.
But nothing that CTV runs is getting canceled. They just keep backing up the trucks and unloading the money. It's a nice position to be in.
Better still, it means that when they DO finally free up a slot, it's a doozer.
This Wednesday, March 1, CTV will
sneak preview one of its new comedy series, JEFF LTD.
after American-Freaking-Idol.
Man, I'd love that slot.
And I'd hate it. Seriously. Talk about a high profile sink or swim.
If you're here in the Great White North, tune in Wednesday at 9:30 p.m, on CTV. After American Idol.
JEFF LTD. stars and was created by Jeff Seymour, who was last seen in CTV's failed newsmag drama The Eleventh Hour. (I say "failed" despite the fact that it won lotsa Gemini Awards - which are the hee hee Canadian hee hee Emmys--guffaw!; "failed" in the sense that nobody watched it. Ouch. Did he say that? Oh yes he did.)
Despite my usual trepidation/gagging about scripts written and created by actors -- I am told by people who've seen it that this one's actually quite funny. Good. The Canadian Industry needs a homegrown comedy 'win' right now.
/Plug
They have all the best U.S. programs...they win the ratings every night of the week. They're so unbeatable, they have all these Canadian shows on the shelf, just waiting for something to be canceled.
But nothing that CTV runs is getting canceled. They just keep backing up the trucks and unloading the money. It's a nice position to be in.
Better still, it means that when they DO finally free up a slot, it's a doozer.
This Wednesday, March 1, CTV will
sneak preview one of its new comedy series, JEFF LTD.
after American-Freaking-Idol.
Man, I'd love that slot.
And I'd hate it. Seriously. Talk about a high profile sink or swim.
If you're here in the Great White North, tune in Wednesday at 9:30 p.m, on CTV. After American Idol.
JEFF LTD. stars and was created by Jeff Seymour, who was last seen in CTV's failed newsmag drama The Eleventh Hour. (I say "failed" despite the fact that it won lotsa Gemini Awards - which are the hee hee Canadian hee hee Emmys--guffaw!; "failed" in the sense that nobody watched it. Ouch. Did he say that? Oh yes he did.)
Despite my usual trepidation/gagging about scripts written and created by actors -- I am told by people who've seen it that this one's actually quite funny. Good. The Canadian Industry needs a homegrown comedy 'win' right now.
/Plug
One Dead Soldier
Well, I just fielded a call from my agent -- a Nice Guy, who to my everlasting dismay and insane jealousy -- is also the possessor of a superior head of hair. In fact, I'll throw down here and put my agent's hair up against the hair of any agent or manager in Canada. That's right, bitches. Not only is he a tough negotiator -- he conditions. Daily.
Anyway, the official word is that one of my projects got a pass from the network. It was by no means a surprise. This project has been cooking on "min" for too long. When I pitched it, I was a completely different person, and a very different kind of writer. It was pre-South Africa, pre-Charlie Jade, pre-a-lot-of-things. It went through lots of changes -- not all of them completely internalized by me, and along the way the project lost an Exec or two. The process made me appreciate the value of having a strong-willed Producer on board to push things along.
Still, it was the first script deal I ever closed, so there's a certain nostalgia to seeing it go. I got paid for two scripts and a series bible, and I'm convinced that, with belief and committment, the series could be great. But that's kind of my job to think that, isn't it?
I don't know where the rights are now, so I need to find that out. If I'm able, I might post some of it here, or use it as an example in future posts. Or as fishwrap. Fish is stinky. It needs to be wrapped.
I'm still busy with other projects, so no tears. Just the usual character-building regrets, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth. Cue the gnashing.
Anyway, the official word is that one of my projects got a pass from the network. It was by no means a surprise. This project has been cooking on "min" for too long. When I pitched it, I was a completely different person, and a very different kind of writer. It was pre-South Africa, pre-Charlie Jade, pre-a-lot-of-things. It went through lots of changes -- not all of them completely internalized by me, and along the way the project lost an Exec or two. The process made me appreciate the value of having a strong-willed Producer on board to push things along.
Still, it was the first script deal I ever closed, so there's a certain nostalgia to seeing it go. I got paid for two scripts and a series bible, and I'm convinced that, with belief and committment, the series could be great. But that's kind of my job to think that, isn't it?
I don't know where the rights are now, so I need to find that out. If I'm able, I might post some of it here, or use it as an example in future posts. Or as fishwrap. Fish is stinky. It needs to be wrapped.
I'm still busy with other projects, so no tears. Just the usual character-building regrets, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth. Cue the gnashing.
Specs: Part Three: Breaking the Story
This is the third post in a series. For Part Two, go here. Part One is here.
A few weeks ago I went up to shoot the shit with a film school class here in Toronto. I do that sometimes, as well as periodically teaching a writing course here and there at a local University.
But by the end of the session a few weeks back, I was surprised to learn that most of the people in the class had never really been told a formal method for breaking a story.
Story breaking is, to borrow a phrase from the worst U.S. president in modern memory -- "hard work." It's why, when you're on a writing staff, generally the stories are broken as part of a group.
So there you go...as a spec writer, you're already at a disadvantage. You've got to be brilliant all on your own, and wrestle a notion into a fully-fleshed out outline from which you can write your script. Yup. That's hard. And it's also the price of admission, so quit whining about it. Sorry about that. A little harsh. One of those Judge shows was on in the background. You know what unforgivable hardasses those judges on those judge shows are -- it seeps through. Anyway...
I put all this forth with a caveat... you can use these methods to break both half-hour and hour shows. They're not revolutionary. They're not particularly original. But they work.
But...
What I'm talking about here applies to the standard North American style of network television. Network TV hours will run about 42 minutes or so with commercials, and will be made up of four, five, or six acts. There may be a teaser. There may or may not be a tag. Half -hours will have two or three acts. Again, maybe a Teaser. Maybe a Tag. About 22 mins of screentime. By now you'll know what show you're going to spec, and you will have determined what the structure of your show is by logging and analyzing, right? So you know what you're up against.
In the UK, or on Cable, an hour show isn't 42 minutes. Shows for the BBC where there are no commercial breaks in the body of the show might run 59 minutes -- which is about 1/3 longer than American shows. Cable shows like The Sopranos are the same way - except there may or may not be more variation in length. By not being beholden to commercial breaks, the internal structure may or may not easy to discern. Again, researching and deconstructing multiple episodes is the only way to figure this out. But it's a harder task: you don't have a commercial to tell you where the act break is.
I've never written a Sopranos, and I've never written a British TV spec, so you're on your own for that. I've recently been watching back the 3rd Season DVD's for Spooks/MI-5 -- and there's an extra there where they profile the writers and they speak to the difference between writing in the UK and writing for American shows.
Okay. As one of my first bosses would say, "let's get back to talking about what we were talking about."
Step One: Blue Sky's smilin at me, nothing but blue sky do I see...
Blue-skying is the natural first step of breaking story. In the room, you'll toss out ideas, no matter how stupid, put em on cards, and put em up on the board.
You need to not self-edit in this phase. Say an idea, slap it down, keep going.
After you do that for a while, hopefully a few ideas that you like will start to coalesce.
Maybe there's a bit of an A-Plot there. Maybe there's a runner or two. Whatever you've got, before you go on to the next step, take a stroll to the dark side.
Step Two: The Death of Hope
I'm pretty hard on fanfic writers. One, because a lot of them (tho' not all) are such bad, bad writers. Two, because they never, ever fail to go for the most obvious or strange obsession. Or they go in the other direction, and just go to places that...uh...nobody should go.
The point is, before you go too far down the road -- you should seek out some show fanfic -- if it exists. You are absolutely, positively, completely looking for what not to do.
Inevitably, fanfic writers will want to do the thing, or 'fix' the thing that needs fixing. I'm sure out there there are lots of Grey's Anatomy fanfics where Meredith finally wises up, dumps McDreamy and realizes her true destiny by sleeping with George. (And yes, I know...I know...I'll get to that.)
Back in the days of Star Trek: The Next Generation, I heard that they had a board where they put the most common pitches...of which there were several. The one that I heard they got pitched most often was a sequel to "Yesterday's Enterprise," the one where Tasha Yar comes back from the dead in an alternate reality because of the Enterprise-C. Anyway, they got a lot of pitches for sequels to that show.
In E.R., maybe it's the episode where Laura Innes' character gets together with the hot straight girl that's on E.R. now. (Whoever that is...I don't watch E.R. anymore. Is Dr. Kerry Weaver still on it? She didn't get over being a lesbian, did she? That would suck.)
In the new Battlestar Galactica, it's the episode where they find Earth. Or where Starbuck wakes up and has been turned into a man again. Or...um...where Adama is revealed to be a Cylon.
In Cheers, it's the episode where you meet Norm's wife Vera. In Frasier, it's the episode where you meet Niles' first wife, Maris. In Seinfeld, it's the episode where you learn Kramer's first name.
Do you see what I'm getting at, here?
Don't fuck with the show. Leave that to the fanfic.
The thing that a producer is looking for with a spec script is someone with a voice and a good sense of story. That means someone who comes up with interesting and fresh takes on the characters -- not an episode that either violates one of the major tenets of the show (ie: you never see Maris or Vera) or blows something so big, or changes the game so much, that even if you were on staff, the chance that you would get to write that major episode is nil. (Ie: the episode of Grey's where George and Meredith knock boots.) They have a whole staff for those episodes. And just as Star Trek:TNG eventually did a sequel of sorts to Yesterday's Enterprise, so too will the show you're looking to spec get around eventually to introducing the brother or the parents, or whatever. If the story seems obvious to you, it will have been obvious to them too. And if they haven't done it yet, there's a reason for that.
In fact, let's get as many of these out of the way right now as possible, m'kay?
That one. That's your idea.
Step Three: Two Pages
This is the part that I learned from two great Showrunners: Bill Laurin and Glenn Davis (Missing) When I went to the Canadian Film Centre five years ago, they, and another great writer named Larry Lalonde, were my mentors there. I went in thinking that I already knew how to break story -- but they added this step, and I think it really helps.
On the LEFT page, write down all the things that have to happen in order for your protagonist to achieve their goal for the episode.
On the RIGHT page, write down all the things that would be really cool/funny/interesting to see. Things that excite you about the possibilities raised by your stories. If your characters make a road trip to Vegas, what would be fun to see? If they're at an amusement park, knowing what you do about your characters, what would it be fun to see them do?
This is a physical representation of the whole left brain, right brain thing. The left represents process -- how you're going to go from A to B to C. Looking at it, you may be able to discern where you can come in late for your plot. Do you really need all those steps? Can some be truncated? Collapsed together? Eliminated entirely?
The right page is key though. Because the right page is where you're going to have fun. As you figure out beats for the story, the key is to figure out how to seed in some of that fun stuff from the right hand page while serving the story needs of the left hand page.
Step Four: The End
Where do you want your story to end up? That's the thing you figure out first. That way you know what you're writing to. I don't know a single successful writer who does not work this way -- especially in TV. Starting to write a story before you know where it's going to end up -- well, if you'll forgive my French -- that's just retarded. And I don't mean in the fun, Black Eyed Peas kind of way.
Step Five: The Start
How does your script begin? What's the kickoff? Big scene, draw people in fast. Make it funny or shocking or surprising. Set the table for conflict right off the bat.
Step Six: The bottom-of-the-clock break
The most important act break in the show is the one that happens at the half-hour mark in a broadcast hour. That may be the Act Two out, or it may be the Act Three out, depending on the structure of the show you're breaking. This is the "holy shit" moment. All act breaks have to be major-out scenes, but this bottom-of-the-clock break is the one that spins your story off in a new direction. The problem we thought we were facing isn't really the problem...the solution we were pursuing earlier was the wrong solution and won't work and now everything's way worse and more hopeless-seeming...you know...like that.
This is literally the most important moment in your script. Not because it's the thing that keeps the audience from switching to another channel. (Remember, as a spec writer, you're creating a reading document...this isn't going to be produced.) It's the most important moment because it's here, if you've kept the reader reading up to this point, where the reader is going to start to decide whether you're any good or not.
A predictable act out here, one that you see coming, will blow you out of the water. A surprise, a moment where the reader says, "Oh man, I can't believe he/she did that/went there" will probably guarantee that they'll read your script right to the end.
Traditionally, you don't go out on an Act without one of two things: Jeopardy (emotional or physical) or New Information (that changes the way that we think about what we've seen before.)
Like I said...this one's a doozy.
(In a half hour, it's a bit different. If it's a two-act-plus structure, your Act One out is the big one. If it's Three Acts, it's probably your Act Two out.)
Step 7: Fill in the Other Act Breaks
Once you've done this, you have what we call the "tentpoles" for your story. You should be able to put these on cards and put them on a cork board and see your story take shape.
Step 8: The Weave
Go back and do steps 1 to 7 for all your other plots -- B, C, D, etc. They may not be the act out, but each plot has X number of turning points, and you need to figure out how those plots will progress, too. Think of them separately, as if they were A plots, all.
Now...you're going to weave everything together.
Start slapping up those B/C/D plot beats. Are they all their own scenes? Can some of them happen at the top or the tail of A plot scenes. When you need to jump forward in time, you can use a cutaway to another plot to ease that time passage, or manage audience suspense.
But there's more to the weave than just marrying the plots together. Remember those two pages? Well, the Left page should be up there now, all the tissue that forms the story. Now it's time to weave in all that cool stuff that you wanted to see -- the character, the funny, the heartwarming, the cool -- whatever it is. Make that right page serve the left and your script won't be boring, and it won't be predictable.
Now step back and look at your story. Does it seem well paced? Does it seem rushed in places? Does one act seem too packed while one of the early acts seems sparse? Is it too dense in places. Go back and adjust.
Once you've got it to a place where you feel right, you're looking at a beat sheet. Congratulations. You've just broken a story.
Now. Go write it.
NB: There's another method, conceptually, that I've heard some people use when breaking a story. I generally don't use it unless I'm having trouble with the story. But it's an interesting approach.
It involves expressing each plot as a function of the character conflicts within it. Ie: the A Plot is Meredith Vs. George, the B Plot is Izzie vs. Alex, etc... Then figure out the beats from there. (Hint: the last beat is always the resolution.) The trick to this method is that it's grounded in character, so you can chart how the plot goes forward by who has the upper hand, action, followed by reaction, followed by consequences...etc. If you find yourself getting criticized for being "plotty" -- this may be a way to get away from that and ground your writing more in character.
Part Four will be "Reading Your Spec Back." But it might be a while in coming. I want to tackle my other favorite subject, the Objective Correlative, first.
A few weeks ago I went up to shoot the shit with a film school class here in Toronto. I do that sometimes, as well as periodically teaching a writing course here and there at a local University.
But by the end of the session a few weeks back, I was surprised to learn that most of the people in the class had never really been told a formal method for breaking a story.
Story breaking is, to borrow a phrase from the worst U.S. president in modern memory -- "hard work." It's why, when you're on a writing staff, generally the stories are broken as part of a group.
So there you go...as a spec writer, you're already at a disadvantage. You've got to be brilliant all on your own, and wrestle a notion into a fully-fleshed out outline from which you can write your script. Yup. That's hard. And it's also the price of admission, so quit whining about it. Sorry about that. A little harsh. One of those Judge shows was on in the background. You know what unforgivable hardasses those judges on those judge shows are -- it seeps through. Anyway...
I put all this forth with a caveat... you can use these methods to break both half-hour and hour shows. They're not revolutionary. They're not particularly original. But they work.
But...
What I'm talking about here applies to the standard North American style of network television. Network TV hours will run about 42 minutes or so with commercials, and will be made up of four, five, or six acts. There may be a teaser. There may or may not be a tag. Half -hours will have two or three acts. Again, maybe a Teaser. Maybe a Tag. About 22 mins of screentime. By now you'll know what show you're going to spec, and you will have determined what the structure of your show is by logging and analyzing, right? So you know what you're up against.
In the UK, or on Cable, an hour show isn't 42 minutes. Shows for the BBC where there are no commercial breaks in the body of the show might run 59 minutes -- which is about 1/3 longer than American shows. Cable shows like The Sopranos are the same way - except there may or may not be more variation in length. By not being beholden to commercial breaks, the internal structure may or may not easy to discern. Again, researching and deconstructing multiple episodes is the only way to figure this out. But it's a harder task: you don't have a commercial to tell you where the act break is.
I've never written a Sopranos, and I've never written a British TV spec, so you're on your own for that. I've recently been watching back the 3rd Season DVD's for Spooks/MI-5 -- and there's an extra there where they profile the writers and they speak to the difference between writing in the UK and writing for American shows.
Okay. As one of my first bosses would say, "let's get back to talking about what we were talking about."
Step One: Blue Sky's smilin at me, nothing but blue sky do I see...
Blue-skying is the natural first step of breaking story. In the room, you'll toss out ideas, no matter how stupid, put em on cards, and put em up on the board.
You need to not self-edit in this phase. Say an idea, slap it down, keep going.
After you do that for a while, hopefully a few ideas that you like will start to coalesce.
Maybe there's a bit of an A-Plot there. Maybe there's a runner or two. Whatever you've got, before you go on to the next step, take a stroll to the dark side.
Step Two: The Death of Hope
I'm pretty hard on fanfic writers. One, because a lot of them (tho' not all) are such bad, bad writers. Two, because they never, ever fail to go for the most obvious or strange obsession. Or they go in the other direction, and just go to places that...uh...nobody should go.
The point is, before you go too far down the road -- you should seek out some show fanfic -- if it exists. You are absolutely, positively, completely looking for what not to do.
Inevitably, fanfic writers will want to do the thing, or 'fix' the thing that needs fixing. I'm sure out there there are lots of Grey's Anatomy fanfics where Meredith finally wises up, dumps McDreamy and realizes her true destiny by sleeping with George. (And yes, I know...I know...I'll get to that.)
Back in the days of Star Trek: The Next Generation, I heard that they had a board where they put the most common pitches...of which there were several. The one that I heard they got pitched most often was a sequel to "Yesterday's Enterprise," the one where Tasha Yar comes back from the dead in an alternate reality because of the Enterprise-C. Anyway, they got a lot of pitches for sequels to that show.
In E.R., maybe it's the episode where Laura Innes' character gets together with the hot straight girl that's on E.R. now. (Whoever that is...I don't watch E.R. anymore. Is Dr. Kerry Weaver still on it? She didn't get over being a lesbian, did she? That would suck.)
In the new Battlestar Galactica, it's the episode where they find Earth. Or where Starbuck wakes up and has been turned into a man again. Or...um...where Adama is revealed to be a Cylon.
In Cheers, it's the episode where you meet Norm's wife Vera. In Frasier, it's the episode where you meet Niles' first wife, Maris. In Seinfeld, it's the episode where you learn Kramer's first name.
Do you see what I'm getting at, here?
Don't fuck with the show. Leave that to the fanfic.
The thing that a producer is looking for with a spec script is someone with a voice and a good sense of story. That means someone who comes up with interesting and fresh takes on the characters -- not an episode that either violates one of the major tenets of the show (ie: you never see Maris or Vera) or blows something so big, or changes the game so much, that even if you were on staff, the chance that you would get to write that major episode is nil. (Ie: the episode of Grey's where George and Meredith knock boots.) They have a whole staff for those episodes. And just as Star Trek:TNG eventually did a sequel of sorts to Yesterday's Enterprise, so too will the show you're looking to spec get around eventually to introducing the brother or the parents, or whatever. If the story seems obvious to you, it will have been obvious to them too. And if they haven't done it yet, there's a reason for that.
In fact, let's get as many of these out of the way right now as possible, m'kay?
- Characters who have never slept together sleep together
- Characters who have been on the show die
- Characters who were on the show but died or left suddenly come back - either for real, or in a dream sequence.
- We meet the parents, brother, sister, ex-wife, or ex-husband of a Character where we have not previously met the parents, brother, sister, ex-wife, or ex-husband.
That one. That's your idea.
Step Three: Two Pages
This is the part that I learned from two great Showrunners: Bill Laurin and Glenn Davis (Missing) When I went to the Canadian Film Centre five years ago, they, and another great writer named Larry Lalonde, were my mentors there. I went in thinking that I already knew how to break story -- but they added this step, and I think it really helps.
On the LEFT page, write down all the things that have to happen in order for your protagonist to achieve their goal for the episode.
On the RIGHT page, write down all the things that would be really cool/funny/interesting to see. Things that excite you about the possibilities raised by your stories. If your characters make a road trip to Vegas, what would be fun to see? If they're at an amusement park, knowing what you do about your characters, what would it be fun to see them do?
This is a physical representation of the whole left brain, right brain thing. The left represents process -- how you're going to go from A to B to C. Looking at it, you may be able to discern where you can come in late for your plot. Do you really need all those steps? Can some be truncated? Collapsed together? Eliminated entirely?
The right page is key though. Because the right page is where you're going to have fun. As you figure out beats for the story, the key is to figure out how to seed in some of that fun stuff from the right hand page while serving the story needs of the left hand page.
Step Four: The End
Where do you want your story to end up? That's the thing you figure out first. That way you know what you're writing to. I don't know a single successful writer who does not work this way -- especially in TV. Starting to write a story before you know where it's going to end up -- well, if you'll forgive my French -- that's just retarded. And I don't mean in the fun, Black Eyed Peas kind of way.
Step Five: The Start
How does your script begin? What's the kickoff? Big scene, draw people in fast. Make it funny or shocking or surprising. Set the table for conflict right off the bat.
Step Six: The bottom-of-the-clock break
The most important act break in the show is the one that happens at the half-hour mark in a broadcast hour. That may be the Act Two out, or it may be the Act Three out, depending on the structure of the show you're breaking. This is the "holy shit" moment. All act breaks have to be major-out scenes, but this bottom-of-the-clock break is the one that spins your story off in a new direction. The problem we thought we were facing isn't really the problem...the solution we were pursuing earlier was the wrong solution and won't work and now everything's way worse and more hopeless-seeming...you know...like that.
This is literally the most important moment in your script. Not because it's the thing that keeps the audience from switching to another channel. (Remember, as a spec writer, you're creating a reading document...this isn't going to be produced.) It's the most important moment because it's here, if you've kept the reader reading up to this point, where the reader is going to start to decide whether you're any good or not.
A predictable act out here, one that you see coming, will blow you out of the water. A surprise, a moment where the reader says, "Oh man, I can't believe he/she did that/went there" will probably guarantee that they'll read your script right to the end.
Traditionally, you don't go out on an Act without one of two things: Jeopardy (emotional or physical) or New Information (that changes the way that we think about what we've seen before.)
Like I said...this one's a doozy.
(In a half hour, it's a bit different. If it's a two-act-plus structure, your Act One out is the big one. If it's Three Acts, it's probably your Act Two out.)
Step 7: Fill in the Other Act Breaks
Once you've done this, you have what we call the "tentpoles" for your story. You should be able to put these on cards and put them on a cork board and see your story take shape.
Step 8: The Weave
Go back and do steps 1 to 7 for all your other plots -- B, C, D, etc. They may not be the act out, but each plot has X number of turning points, and you need to figure out how those plots will progress, too. Think of them separately, as if they were A plots, all.
Now...you're going to weave everything together.
Start slapping up those B/C/D plot beats. Are they all their own scenes? Can some of them happen at the top or the tail of A plot scenes. When you need to jump forward in time, you can use a cutaway to another plot to ease that time passage, or manage audience suspense.
But there's more to the weave than just marrying the plots together. Remember those two pages? Well, the Left page should be up there now, all the tissue that forms the story. Now it's time to weave in all that cool stuff that you wanted to see -- the character, the funny, the heartwarming, the cool -- whatever it is. Make that right page serve the left and your script won't be boring, and it won't be predictable.
Now step back and look at your story. Does it seem well paced? Does it seem rushed in places? Does one act seem too packed while one of the early acts seems sparse? Is it too dense in places. Go back and adjust.
Once you've got it to a place where you feel right, you're looking at a beat sheet. Congratulations. You've just broken a story.
Now. Go write it.
NB: There's another method, conceptually, that I've heard some people use when breaking a story. I generally don't use it unless I'm having trouble with the story. But it's an interesting approach.
It involves expressing each plot as a function of the character conflicts within it. Ie: the A Plot is Meredith Vs. George, the B Plot is Izzie vs. Alex, etc... Then figure out the beats from there. (Hint: the last beat is always the resolution.) The trick to this method is that it's grounded in character, so you can chart how the plot goes forward by who has the upper hand, action, followed by reaction, followed by consequences...etc. If you find yourself getting criticized for being "plotty" -- this may be a way to get away from that and ground your writing more in character.
Part Four will be "Reading Your Spec Back." But it might be a while in coming. I want to tackle my other favorite subject, the Objective Correlative, first.
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