Stealing the format of Dave Moses' reviews:
Robson Arms Ep 1 Review:
Yes.
Awright, I can't do that. In the 2nd season preem, you get a nice sideways ref to what happened to two of last year's main characters, but you also get Leslie Nielsen. And lo and behold, you actually get humorous treatment of a guy in a wheelchair. Including a choreographed, hockey-style fight!
Aside from the fact that I want to giggle like a girl every time I see Terry David Mulligan act (I can't help it, I worked with him in my Citytv days, and it's just kind of a personal character flaw on my part...go TDM!!!) this premiere was sassy and winning. The story turned in every act, based on who looked good and who looked bad... it wasn't the slightest bit politically correct, Leslie Nielsen got to show both his comic and his dramatic side -- and best of all, Awesome use of music. Canadian shows never pay for sync rights, but boy were they employed well in this show. Must have cost the bomb.
Why is CTV burying this show again?
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Blood Ties on Lifetime
See, David, apparently it can be done. It's over a month til Blood Ties premieres in the USA, (March 11, to be exact) but Lifetime already has the website up, with a longer trailer than the one that's on YouTube.
Enjoy.
Lifetime Blood Ties Site
Enjoy.
Lifetime Blood Ties Site
Little Mosque on the Future
Via Diane's Tv Eh? Site, comes this article by Bill Harris in the Toronto Sun reporting that this week, Little Mosque on the Prairie's numbers stabilized above one million viewers. (In fact, they were actually UP from the previous week.)
That's an important number on two fronts: First, it maintains Little Mosque's streak of attracting a million-plus viewers through four new episodes; and second, it halts the downward trend that had seen the numbers go from 2.1 million for the debut, to 1.2 million, to 1.085 million.
In other words, the audience for Little Mosque has stabilized for the time being.
Little Mosque was going up against the return of Lost on CTV on Wednesday (8 p.m.). Lost pulled in 1.58 million viewers, but that number is deceivingly low, since it was not shown in simulcast with a U.S. network (Canadians had the option of watching Lost at 10 p.m., too, on ABC).
I'm also starting to hear the rumor from a number of different sources (both within CBC and without) that CBC is poised to come back with a big order for more Mosque: As in, more than 13 eps. Probably 22.Remember that CBC took a big gamble moving this show up in production, like they did. The elements may have been a little undercooked. But now that that gamble has paid off, and they have a sustainable audience, CBC has a tremendous opportunity.
A twenty-two episode order would allow for a lot of things that could wind up helping both Mosque, and the industry as a whole, provided they do the following:
- Hire enough writers. A 22 episode order means you can actually build a large (for a Canadian show) staff. You could easily employ 2 mid level writers, a couple of juniors who are there to be trained, and a couple of senior writers. There are enough scripts to go around. You can take advantage of the room and make sure the material is fully cooked and actually funny on more than one level, all without losing what the people who like the show like about it.
- Hire an experienced showrunner, and give them the authority and leeway to train the staff. This show has profile now, and what CBC should do is hire a really top, writer-showrunner who can guide the creative. They should also have a couple of people just below that showrunner and make it explicitly part of their hiring that they be trained in other aspects of the show world: editing, casting, post, etc. (Creator Zarqa Nawaz should definitely be one of those people. She's earned it.) If CBC is smart, they could come out of this next season with two more people who down the road may be able to run shows themselves. In any case, a showrunner with experience and context (and not just a CBC 'friend' type) is essential because the largest task they have before them is to...
- Broaden the world. A 22 episode order almost demands that you expand the frame of the storytelling. Trying to come up with 22 more stories about how Muslims are different from other Canadians will be excrutiating. But if they imbue the town with its own quirkiness, and good natured humor, and get away from the simplistic, white people dumb cant they've taken so far, the town and the creative could really come alive and start to sing.
CBC should be congratulated for that.
This could be the first block in rebuilding CBC as a Television brand that Canadians are proud of -- I just hope they choose the right people, and build the show up, and not try to rest on their laurels and think they've created something perfect.
Take the time now they couldn't take before -- and let this show be the start of something -- not simply the show that got all that press, and all those eyeballs, cause of the hook.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Calling all Librarians
I tender an open research project to anyone who might have access to historical TV data in Canada. This is not Google-able. You would probably need access to a database, if not the books themselves.
I'm interested to hear about the numbers for the premiere episodes of high profile scripted shows on Canadian networks going back to 1997.
Especially premiere numbers for shows on Global, CTV, and CBC.
The Associates, The Eleventh Hour, Tom Stone, Robson Arms, Degrassi, Jozi H, Falcon Beach, Whistler, This is Wonderland, DaVinci's Inquest, Intelligence, and anything else I may be forgetting.
I'm interested to hear about the numbers for the premiere episodes of high profile scripted shows on Canadian networks going back to 1997.
Especially premiere numbers for shows on Global, CTV, and CBC.
The Associates, The Eleventh Hour, Tom Stone, Robson Arms, Degrassi, Jozi H, Falcon Beach, Whistler, This is Wonderland, DaVinci's Inquest, Intelligence, and anything else I may be forgetting.
I Hope Robson Arms Makes Me Laugh, Because Right Now It Makes Me Cranky
So the first, Canadian TV headline here: Robson Arms returns to CTV with New Episodes tomorrow night at 9pm. John Doyle in the Globe & Mail posted a review today. And though the gist of his review seems to be that he didn't enjoy the new season's eps as much as he did last seasons, his description of same makes me think I might just enjoy it more:
In Canada, we've got a problem with Comedy. We can't really develop good ones, it seems, and I think it's often for one simple reason: we keep giving, and taking, drama notes.
Talk to writers in this country, and you'll eventually hear a story about a pitch meeting or a development meeting where they were told by a producer or a network type that so-and-so needed more depth or weight to their character. Which is fine if you're writing a drama. But like a souffle, comic characters are inherently more fragile. They can't freight too much complexity, or they become dramatic characters. You can see this in the evolution of what character backstories can carry: Once upon a time, Foster Brooks had a whole character based on how he was drunk all the time. There were lots of early TV shows where characters were lovable drunks. But in recent years, an awareness of the rigors of alcoholism and the costs of drunk drivers mean that habitual drinkers aren't really so funny anymore. Even on Cheers, though Sam was an alcoholic, him going off the wagon wasn't really played for laughs. And the other guys hanging out in the bar, even though they were there all the time, didn't seem like drunks. They didn't act drunk. Being a drunk is not something that you can reasonably put in a character today and have it read as funny.
One of the most interesting things about the Cheers example is Frasier. At the time, Frasier hanging out in Cheers was madcap and wonderful. But the few times they referenced it in Frasier, it seemed to be hinted at that his Cheers years were a dark time he'd rather forget. So... they finally dealt with the subtext of Cheers, in Frasier, because they didn't need to mine it for Comedy. Clever, but also illustrative of the delicacy of the comic character and how they can't have that much subtext.
Whoa. Interesting Cheers digression there. Now, back to Robson Arms. Doyle may have appreciated the hell out of Robson's quirky "hushed delicacy," but to me, though Robson was a very finely acted, well-written show, the shift and searching tone (not quite comedy, not quite drama) made it hard to place in my mind. And I'm a television writer.
We're constantly selling shows in this country that are neither fish nor fowl. We can't dare to put a show on the air that's just a comedy, so we wind up putting out these half-comedies that aren't funny enough, but aren't deep like a good drama. When you step up and sell comedy, you need to sell comedy. You are making a compact with the audience and that compact is this: watch this and you will laugh.
When you put a drama on the air, there are a lot more entry points, and potential compacts with the audience. You can say that you're going to learn something. You can say that you're going to see a story ripped from the headlines, explored in an interesting way. You can say that you'll be intrigued by the mystery, and stay for the romantic tension and witty repartee. Whatever. The West Wing, for much of its run, was one of the funniest shows on television, made even better by the fact that that kind of funny was sort of an unadvertised special. The compact with the audience, the sell, was that you were going to see a smart and passionate show about people grappling with big issues in the corridors of power.
Let me be clear here, again: I think Robson's a good show. The problem is that you get a very small window to sell people on the concept of a show. If the sell is "Little Mosque on the Prairie" that's a nice, easy, simple sell. As was "Corner Gas," (which is why the snarky, "Corner Mosque" jokes, though snarky, are kinda true, too.) Robson Arms, so long as it's a little of this, little of that -- isn't an easy sell. And considering how little it gets sold, that might be a problem.
If Robson is going for more comedy in its second season, I think that's a good thing. I liked the comic episodes last year a lot more than the ones that tried to be serious. In any case, it's certainly a worthy show and on Saturday, it's going to need all the help it can get.
Now for the cranky. David Moses, one of the Robson writers, has been tracking the promotion (or lack thereof) for Robson Arms' return. You could be forgiven if you were in Canada and had not heard anything about this show. It hasn't really been pushed very hard.
If Little Mosque has taught anything, it is this: one of the arguments about Canadian TV is over. Again. You can get an audience, but you do have to actually promote the show. That's such a basic thing, I know, but yet I'm not seeing from those on high any real recognition of this plain and simple truth. All because, for most of them, these shows are not moneymakers. But that doesn't mean that it's right, or that it should be stood for. Amid all the hoopla over what to do with the CTF, can we make a little room for, "why bother if you're not going to tell anyone?"
Or... considering the money they make off those huge American Idol numbers, how come there weren't 10 or 12 high quality, different, sassy Robson promos running once a break for the last three weeks on CTV?
What's the point of having the discussion about how to "fix" Canadian TV if you won't even do the things YOU KNOW WILL HELP?
Robson Arms, Saturday 9pm, CTV (The CSI/L&O/Idol Channel) I hope it gets a hail-Mary number. (Even though that would be disastrous, since it would reward the "benign neglect" promotional strategy.)
Aagggah! See, this is why I'm cranky.
It would be hard to match the initial subtlety and dramatic quality, and in truth, the first few new episodes don't. They're still finely crafted (Susin Nielsen and Gary Harvey return as co-creators and executive producers) and the performances are excellent, but the series seems to have developed a serious dose of the cutes...When I watched Robson Arms last year, I found it interesting but a little unsettling. Mainly because I tuned in having heard it was a comedy and the first episode I saw was really, really dramatic. There were some that were more comic in tone, but that initial surprise left me feeling a bit turned around about the show.
What set Robson Arms apart in its first season was the delicacy of the drama, the lightness of the comedic moments and the authenticity of the humanity in the characters. Now it reaches more for outright comedy and the result is sometimes raucous farce -- often funny, certainly, but in the first three episodes, that hushed delicacy is missing.
In Canada, we've got a problem with Comedy. We can't really develop good ones, it seems, and I think it's often for one simple reason: we keep giving, and taking, drama notes.
Talk to writers in this country, and you'll eventually hear a story about a pitch meeting or a development meeting where they were told by a producer or a network type that so-and-so needed more depth or weight to their character. Which is fine if you're writing a drama. But like a souffle, comic characters are inherently more fragile. They can't freight too much complexity, or they become dramatic characters. You can see this in the evolution of what character backstories can carry: Once upon a time, Foster Brooks had a whole character based on how he was drunk all the time. There were lots of early TV shows where characters were lovable drunks. But in recent years, an awareness of the rigors of alcoholism and the costs of drunk drivers mean that habitual drinkers aren't really so funny anymore. Even on Cheers, though Sam was an alcoholic, him going off the wagon wasn't really played for laughs. And the other guys hanging out in the bar, even though they were there all the time, didn't seem like drunks. They didn't act drunk. Being a drunk is not something that you can reasonably put in a character today and have it read as funny.
One of the most interesting things about the Cheers example is Frasier. At the time, Frasier hanging out in Cheers was madcap and wonderful. But the few times they referenced it in Frasier, it seemed to be hinted at that his Cheers years were a dark time he'd rather forget. So... they finally dealt with the subtext of Cheers, in Frasier, because they didn't need to mine it for Comedy. Clever, but also illustrative of the delicacy of the comic character and how they can't have that much subtext.
Whoa. Interesting Cheers digression there. Now, back to Robson Arms. Doyle may have appreciated the hell out of Robson's quirky "hushed delicacy," but to me, though Robson was a very finely acted, well-written show, the shift and searching tone (not quite comedy, not quite drama) made it hard to place in my mind. And I'm a television writer.
We're constantly selling shows in this country that are neither fish nor fowl. We can't dare to put a show on the air that's just a comedy, so we wind up putting out these half-comedies that aren't funny enough, but aren't deep like a good drama. When you step up and sell comedy, you need to sell comedy. You are making a compact with the audience and that compact is this: watch this and you will laugh.
When you put a drama on the air, there are a lot more entry points, and potential compacts with the audience. You can say that you're going to learn something. You can say that you're going to see a story ripped from the headlines, explored in an interesting way. You can say that you'll be intrigued by the mystery, and stay for the romantic tension and witty repartee. Whatever. The West Wing, for much of its run, was one of the funniest shows on television, made even better by the fact that that kind of funny was sort of an unadvertised special. The compact with the audience, the sell, was that you were going to see a smart and passionate show about people grappling with big issues in the corridors of power.
Let me be clear here, again: I think Robson's a good show. The problem is that you get a very small window to sell people on the concept of a show. If the sell is "Little Mosque on the Prairie" that's a nice, easy, simple sell. As was "Corner Gas," (which is why the snarky, "Corner Mosque" jokes, though snarky, are kinda true, too.) Robson Arms, so long as it's a little of this, little of that -- isn't an easy sell. And considering how little it gets sold, that might be a problem.
If Robson is going for more comedy in its second season, I think that's a good thing. I liked the comic episodes last year a lot more than the ones that tried to be serious. In any case, it's certainly a worthy show and on Saturday, it's going to need all the help it can get.
Now for the cranky. David Moses, one of the Robson writers, has been tracking the promotion (or lack thereof) for Robson Arms' return. You could be forgiven if you were in Canada and had not heard anything about this show. It hasn't really been pushed very hard.
If Little Mosque has taught anything, it is this: one of the arguments about Canadian TV is over. Again. You can get an audience, but you do have to actually promote the show. That's such a basic thing, I know, but yet I'm not seeing from those on high any real recognition of this plain and simple truth. All because, for most of them, these shows are not moneymakers. But that doesn't mean that it's right, or that it should be stood for. Amid all the hoopla over what to do with the CTF, can we make a little room for, "why bother if you're not going to tell anyone?"
Or... considering the money they make off those huge American Idol numbers, how come there weren't 10 or 12 high quality, different, sassy Robson promos running once a break for the last three weeks on CTV?
What's the point of having the discussion about how to "fix" Canadian TV if you won't even do the things YOU KNOW WILL HELP?
Robson Arms, Saturday 9pm, CTV (The CSI/L&O/Idol Channel) I hope it gets a hail-Mary number. (Even though that would be disastrous, since it would reward the "benign neglect" promotional strategy.)
Aagggah! See, this is why I'm cranky.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
The Good Tired
So. I am bone tired with a hinky back and the remnants of a cold. Lots of notes, ready to get back to it tomorrow and turn around a new draft.
I'm fairly sure that I won't enjoy LOST too much. I'm really tired. I don't even know if I can make it til 10.
So there it is: Sleep or TV?
I always thought I'd reach this point. I just didn't think it would be before I was forty. Eeep.
I'm fairly sure that I won't enjoy LOST too much. I'm really tired. I don't even know if I can make it til 10.
So there it is: Sleep or TV?
I always thought I'd reach this point. I just didn't think it would be before I was forty. Eeep.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Heads, Meet Tails...
Further to the post below, in a Very Special Blog Crossover, Will Dixon gives his (largely more practical) take here.
Moral of the story, I think, is still the same: Being a professional TV writer means being flexible. If you're not flexible about your work, you probably need to think about doing something else.
Moral of the story, I think, is still the same: Being a professional TV writer means being flexible. If you're not flexible about your work, you probably need to think about doing something else.
Prep, Two, Three, Four...
ALL YOU scribes out there pounding it out try to get somewhere, nursing your little grudges and getting upset whenever anyone pees all over your beautiful flower...(I'm talking about your scripts there, freako, let it go. And yes Bill, this means you.) Here's something to remember, recall, and reframe:
In TV production, it is everyone's job to fuck with you.
I'm serious.
If you're smart, and you're really cut out for this, you will welcome and embrace this -- and you will learn after awhile when to defend, when to capitulate, and when to utterly enjoy the experience.
One of the things that always struck me about the baby writers I taught when I was teaching at the University was the way there are some people who just don't understand about picking your battles, and defending your territory. When you're the writer in production, it's your job to defend what you see is the core of the story, against anyone who tries to fuck with it.
Now, does that sound adversarial? It's not supposed to be. And if you're tuned right, it isn't.
But if you're very precious about your writing, you're going to find this process a nightmare. If you are that kind of person, TV writing probably isn't your thing. Write plays or novels.
In TV, the first person who fucks with your script will be the other writers you're working with. They'll probably change around your beats and want to change a line here, a joke there. Sometimes, the showrunner might actually want you to change quite a bit. Or worse, they'll want to change it.
Then there's a network executive. Oh boy, will they want to fuck with you. They'll want to emphasize this not that. They'll ask you to start the story faster. They'll disagree about some turns and when they'll come. They'll give notes that you look at and they make you fulminate and swear and hate humanity and kick the garbage can and take that little stress ball on your desk and make it explode all over your fist.
Then there's the man or woman who wants to direct your show. Oh boy. All that visual crap they demand. And they don't want it this way, can it be that way? And they don't get this, and think that will be better there. And you roll your eyes and stomp and punch a wall.
And then there's various department heads. The wardrobe people think the costume you called for might be better if it was more like this. The locations department wants to know if the art gallery that you specifically called for might be able to be a loft-space with a gallery room downstairs...
The art director, well, of course, they read your script and see something totally different than half the stuff you wanted, and they want you to change all your descriptions to fit the way they're thinking. I mean, come on. That's when you crush the Coke can and fire it across the room, and it splits the story coordinator's head in half and as he bleeds out on the floor you say, "if there's just one more change...ONE MORE..."
And then the actors do a read through...
***
Now. The wonderful thing when you're not too precious about your material, the really precious thing about production that sets it apart from writing endless spec scripts and things that only exist in development, is this:
If you're on the right show -- everyone is as passionate about their part in the drama as you are. They protect and suggest and love their contribution the same way that you want to protect the script.
So those other writers? They have some funny shit to say. And you know what? They're right about that scene in act two. And the showrunner knows the voice of the character (because, of course, like you he or she is a writer) and can change your thinking just enough that you go, "OH, I see how to make that BETTER!"
And then the Art Director comes in with designs or thoughts that are just OFF THE HOOK, because while it's your job as a writer to try and tell stories visually, he or she is wired that way completely in a way you could never hope to be. Same with the Director, who suddenly figures out a way to dramatize that subtext in Scene 12. He/She can actually tell the actors something that will get them moving in a more interesting direction! Or now there's a kineticism to the scene in Act Four that you never saw coming.
And the wardrobe people? How is it possible that they just took that coat, added some green fabric, and made it look like...that? What IS that? You have no idea. The only thing you do know is just how cool it is.
And it goes on and on. Casually the vehicles or the stunt guy might tell you one day at the craft table, "You know, it's not that hard, really, to blow up a bus."
Really? Okay. Good to know.
And what about those wily network executives?
Well, of course, all their notes are always brilliant.
.
.
.
Okay, okay. Even I'm not going to try to sell that. But how about this: even when they're not brilliant, they're always valid. You can read them the first time and react as you react. But the fact is that if they bump on something, you've got to at least consider why. They might not always have the solution or even be right about why they bumped. And yes, they might not have read your script closely. But they're also the airbrake against you barrelling forward with something that the audience won't get, either.
In short, the whole tortured artist expressing themselves, thing? That is not television. If you're one of those kinds of people, and you're in any one of those roles above, there's gonna be tears.
The GREAT thing about series TV is that you're part of a team, and you have to come dressed to play. I've been on shows where it was all about "the vision" of a person at the top who...um...really didn't have much of a vision. And it's hell to be on a show like that. Because one by one, all those talented people -- you see the lights go off in their eyes as they shift from really stretching and trying to make it better and bring their creativity to bear to, "let me just get through this." Instead of thinking about the show and how cool it will be and how much fun the audience is going to have watching it, they're thinking about their mortgage payment.
And that's sad, and unfortunate.
But when you've got a bunch of people who are all as passionate about their thing as you are about yours: directors, art directors, casting, actors, wardrobe, locations -- everybody else...well... then you have a shot at creating something together that's far far better than you ever could have imagined when you were sweating over your script by yourself. Will their suggestions be right? No, not always. But I like to come to any suggestion from the frame of: well, how could that be made to work? And it's only when I can't easily come up with an answer that I say, "Hmm...I'm not sure."
Writers make a lot out of the fact that we're the original artist. We're the ones who have to start from the blank page. That's true. But if you're lucky, after that hell you get to go on a ride. And if you're with the right team, that ride can be lots of fun.
Enjoy the ride. Go with it, baby. Let everybody dazzle. And try to laugh. A lot. Cause it's really not like working at all, then, izzit?
***
Today marks the start of prep for my first ep. For the next several days I'm going to be in lots of meetings, and making lots of changes to my draft, before it goes to the floor later next week. So blogging might be light between now and then. I trust you'll all drink your Ovaltine and have a nice Bovril sandwich and play nice til I get back, right?
In TV production, it is everyone's job to fuck with you.
I'm serious.
If you're smart, and you're really cut out for this, you will welcome and embrace this -- and you will learn after awhile when to defend, when to capitulate, and when to utterly enjoy the experience.
One of the things that always struck me about the baby writers I taught when I was teaching at the University was the way there are some people who just don't understand about picking your battles, and defending your territory. When you're the writer in production, it's your job to defend what you see is the core of the story, against anyone who tries to fuck with it.
Now, does that sound adversarial? It's not supposed to be. And if you're tuned right, it isn't.
But if you're very precious about your writing, you're going to find this process a nightmare. If you are that kind of person, TV writing probably isn't your thing. Write plays or novels.
In TV, the first person who fucks with your script will be the other writers you're working with. They'll probably change around your beats and want to change a line here, a joke there. Sometimes, the showrunner might actually want you to change quite a bit. Or worse, they'll want to change it.
Then there's a network executive. Oh boy, will they want to fuck with you. They'll want to emphasize this not that. They'll ask you to start the story faster. They'll disagree about some turns and when they'll come. They'll give notes that you look at and they make you fulminate and swear and hate humanity and kick the garbage can and take that little stress ball on your desk and make it explode all over your fist.
Then there's the man or woman who wants to direct your show. Oh boy. All that visual crap they demand. And they don't want it this way, can it be that way? And they don't get this, and think that will be better there. And you roll your eyes and stomp and punch a wall.
And then there's various department heads. The wardrobe people think the costume you called for might be better if it was more like this. The locations department wants to know if the art gallery that you specifically called for might be able to be a loft-space with a gallery room downstairs...
The art director, well, of course, they read your script and see something totally different than half the stuff you wanted, and they want you to change all your descriptions to fit the way they're thinking. I mean, come on. That's when you crush the Coke can and fire it across the room, and it splits the story coordinator's head in half and as he bleeds out on the floor you say, "if there's just one more change...ONE MORE..."
And then the actors do a read through...
***
Now. The wonderful thing when you're not too precious about your material, the really precious thing about production that sets it apart from writing endless spec scripts and things that only exist in development, is this:
If you're on the right show -- everyone is as passionate about their part in the drama as you are. They protect and suggest and love their contribution the same way that you want to protect the script.
So those other writers? They have some funny shit to say. And you know what? They're right about that scene in act two. And the showrunner knows the voice of the character (because, of course, like you he or she is a writer) and can change your thinking just enough that you go, "OH, I see how to make that BETTER!"
And then the Art Director comes in with designs or thoughts that are just OFF THE HOOK, because while it's your job as a writer to try and tell stories visually, he or she is wired that way completely in a way you could never hope to be. Same with the Director, who suddenly figures out a way to dramatize that subtext in Scene 12. He/She can actually tell the actors something that will get them moving in a more interesting direction! Or now there's a kineticism to the scene in Act Four that you never saw coming.
And the wardrobe people? How is it possible that they just took that coat, added some green fabric, and made it look like...that? What IS that? You have no idea. The only thing you do know is just how cool it is.
And it goes on and on. Casually the vehicles or the stunt guy might tell you one day at the craft table, "You know, it's not that hard, really, to blow up a bus."
Really? Okay. Good to know.
And what about those wily network executives?
Well, of course, all their notes are always brilliant.
.
.
.
Okay, okay. Even I'm not going to try to sell that. But how about this: even when they're not brilliant, they're always valid. You can read them the first time and react as you react. But the fact is that if they bump on something, you've got to at least consider why. They might not always have the solution or even be right about why they bumped. And yes, they might not have read your script closely. But they're also the airbrake against you barrelling forward with something that the audience won't get, either.
In short, the whole tortured artist expressing themselves, thing? That is not television. If you're one of those kinds of people, and you're in any one of those roles above, there's gonna be tears.
The GREAT thing about series TV is that you're part of a team, and you have to come dressed to play. I've been on shows where it was all about "the vision" of a person at the top who...um...really didn't have much of a vision. And it's hell to be on a show like that. Because one by one, all those talented people -- you see the lights go off in their eyes as they shift from really stretching and trying to make it better and bring their creativity to bear to, "let me just get through this." Instead of thinking about the show and how cool it will be and how much fun the audience is going to have watching it, they're thinking about their mortgage payment.
And that's sad, and unfortunate.
But when you've got a bunch of people who are all as passionate about their thing as you are about yours: directors, art directors, casting, actors, wardrobe, locations -- everybody else...well... then you have a shot at creating something together that's far far better than you ever could have imagined when you were sweating over your script by yourself. Will their suggestions be right? No, not always. But I like to come to any suggestion from the frame of: well, how could that be made to work? And it's only when I can't easily come up with an answer that I say, "Hmm...I'm not sure."
Writers make a lot out of the fact that we're the original artist. We're the ones who have to start from the blank page. That's true. But if you're lucky, after that hell you get to go on a ride. And if you're with the right team, that ride can be lots of fun.
Enjoy the ride. Go with it, baby. Let everybody dazzle. And try to laugh. A lot. Cause it's really not like working at all, then, izzit?
***
Today marks the start of prep for my first ep. For the next several days I'm going to be in lots of meetings, and making lots of changes to my draft, before it goes to the floor later next week. So blogging might be light between now and then. I trust you'll all drink your Ovaltine and have a nice Bovril sandwich and play nice til I get back, right?
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Voices From The Strike-That-Wasn't
One of the things that makes the choice of turning the comment filter on so hard is the thought of losing posts like this one, from Don. Don posts his reaction to the current ACTRA strike, and how it's being handled by both the CFTPA and ACTRA and The Government.
I would love to hear more of this. Call it "Voices of the Industry." If you've been affected by the ACTRA strike or the downturn in production in Canada, email me c/o this blog at the address at left (My Dirty Little Email Addy) and write up how. I'll run a selection as they come in.
Here's what Don says about the strike:
We shot in Hamilton this summer too. And I can see the advantages for shooting there editorially. Unlike Toronto, Hamilton looks much more like a U.S. industrial city, mid 20th century. There's a totally different look. Parts of Hamilton can look like South Boston, or Detroit, or Cincinatti or Pittsburgh or Chicago in a way that Toronto can't. But having to go there just to make your budget is dumb, and, like everything -- is hardest on the people with the least power in the system: the hardworking crews who have to drive home after 13 hours making tv.
I would love to hear more of this. Call it "Voices of the Industry." If you've been affected by the ACTRA strike or the downturn in production in Canada, email me c/o this blog at the address at left (My Dirty Little Email Addy) and write up how. I'll run a selection as they come in.
Here's what Don says about the strike:
Soon, none of this will matter. It is most likely that there will be no production in Toronto this spring. If this goes much longer we will lose the summer. I don't know how many people can hang on for six months after a few slim years. I don't know how many crew members, writers, directors, or how many support businesses can hang on. Some people will move to Vancouver where it is busy. Some will leave the business. Some, I'm sorry to say, will land on the street. If you have children to support, if you want to save for their university eduction, if you want to save for your retirement, you will have burned through your reserves. The producers have no excuse, though I wonder how many Canadian producers still make drama. 8? 11? The strike means little or nothing to someone who makes reality based programming or documentaries. I would guess that this would describe most of the members of the CFTPA. There is almost no Canadian drama left. The actors are in a very different situation. Only a small percentage of ACTRA members make their living from their craft. It is easy to raise your fist in support of a cause if you step in front of the cameras only once or twice a year. I'm not sure how the tiny number (less than 10%, I"m sure) who rely on their ACTRA work to pay the bills might feel about all of this. It is my understanding that the Government of Ontario could force matters and legislate an end to the strike. We, the film production industry, are highly labour intensive. Domestic film and television adds to our country's culture, though I'm not sure if it generates more tax money than it uses - but that's okay, in fact, it is essential if Canada is to be a country in fact as opposed to a few lines on a map - just look at how important film and television are to Quebec. The real money spinner is production for export. The foreign production that shoots here creates lots of jobs, lots of tax dollars - much more than the money spent on tax incentives. If only our local politicians viewed film production as an essential part of the economy, like a car plant. They would not stand for this. I wonder, whose responsibility is it to inform them? Why is information on the strike buried in the entertainment section? Why isn't it front and centre in the business section? Tens of thousands of people are out of work. Isn't that a major business issue? Maybe even main stream news? Perhaps when the strike is over all of the unions and major businesses will fund Film Ontario (our lobby organization) and push our issues so hard and spin them so well that every single politician will understand how much a healthy film and television industry can add to our economy and even our culture? In B.C. they seem to get it. They do get it. Here, in Toronto, we don't get it. For example, did you know that the tax incentives are structured so that filming receives a bonus for NOT shooting in Toronto? (I worked almost exclusively in Hamilton this summer for only this reason.) We'll see. I'm scanning the want ads and trying to figure out if I can move to a career in Supply Chain Management.Don, as I type this, I'm about to get in my car and drive forty five minutes so I'm outside "the zone" in Vancouver, too. Our offices for Blood Ties are in Maple Ridge, B.C. for the same reason. Though I appreciate the sentiment behind it -- try to spread production out of the cities and to some of the surrounding areas, the practical considerations make this stupid for domestic productions. You need those tax credits to make your budget. So all it means is that you have everybody driving all over hell's half acre to get out of the city, so you can shoot a show that's most likely set in a city. It is, not to put too fine a point on it, retarded.
We shot in Hamilton this summer too. And I can see the advantages for shooting there editorially. Unlike Toronto, Hamilton looks much more like a U.S. industrial city, mid 20th century. There's a totally different look. Parts of Hamilton can look like South Boston, or Detroit, or Cincinatti or Pittsburgh or Chicago in a way that Toronto can't. But having to go there just to make your budget is dumb, and, like everything -- is hardest on the people with the least power in the system: the hardworking crews who have to drive home after 13 hours making tv.
Housekeeping
Hey there.
Just a short note to let you all know that I've switched the comments settings now so that anonymous commenting is disabled. Over the last few weeks, the number of nuisance posts, and posts that contain offensive content have risen. We've started to hear from the dittoheads whose sum total of analysis is "pave the CBC", and sadly, there's started to be a turn from the merits of "discussing" Little Mosque, to re-arguing many of the ideological underpinnings of the climate the show has been thrust into.
I don't feel like having to stay on top of the blog all day to catch this B.S. And what I've found is even the short, small step of getting people to register with blogger and establish a user profile keeps people honest and responsible. So we've gone back to that.
This affects a few people who post regularly, and I'm sorry for that. I would please encourage you to just take a moment and go through Blogger's steps at www.blogger.com, and register a profile. It's stupid, because it says you have to "pick a blog" but you can just skip that step. Then you sign in. The good thing about it is that you can comment under that handle at any blog in the Blogger network. Please take a moment, because it's certainly not my intent to cut your voices short.
Just a short note to let you all know that I've switched the comments settings now so that anonymous commenting is disabled. Over the last few weeks, the number of nuisance posts, and posts that contain offensive content have risen. We've started to hear from the dittoheads whose sum total of analysis is "pave the CBC", and sadly, there's started to be a turn from the merits of "discussing" Little Mosque, to re-arguing many of the ideological underpinnings of the climate the show has been thrust into.
I don't feel like having to stay on top of the blog all day to catch this B.S. And what I've found is even the short, small step of getting people to register with blogger and establish a user profile keeps people honest and responsible. So we've gone back to that.
This affects a few people who post regularly, and I'm sorry for that. I would please encourage you to just take a moment and go through Blogger's steps at www.blogger.com, and register a profile. It's stupid, because it says you have to "pick a blog" but you can just skip that step. Then you sign in. The good thing about it is that you can comment under that handle at any blog in the Blogger network. Please take a moment, because it's certainly not my intent to cut your voices short.
Monday, February 5, 2007
How's YOUR Monday Going?
So they shot in our offices on Friday. And, um...a light got too close to something, and, uh...the sprinklers went off.
Oops.
All weekend, my office has been filled with musty furniture cadged from the deluge, and a pizza box that wasn't quite empty.
It smells vaguely like rotting baby.
Which, as one of the other writers here helpfully pointed out, is the worst name for an air freshener ever.
Oops.
All weekend, my office has been filled with musty furniture cadged from the deluge, and a pizza box that wasn't quite empty.
It smells vaguely like rotting baby.
Which, as one of the other writers here helpfully pointed out, is the worst name for an air freshener ever.
Matt & Danny Take On The Insurgency
Boys and girls, I was a stalwart holdout, but I think it may finally be time to start talking about drawing down continued viewership to Studio 60, so that we may bring about a conclusion with honor and dignity to the tale of Matt & Danny, Amanda Peet, Dawn from "The Office," the great Mark McKinney and the less-great Sarah Paulson.
I say this with a heavy heart.
In the end? The whole the comedy-sketches-weren't-funny-thing was exactly what I said it was: a distraction. No, chalk this up to something more basic:
Come back Casey McCall and Dan Rydell. All is forgiven.
I say this with a heavy heart.
In the end? The whole the comedy-sketches-weren't-funny-thing was exactly what I said it was: a distraction. No, chalk this up to something more basic:
- The characters did not demand that you care about them. I haven't cared about Tim Busfield since the Pilot. I find myself wishing for more scenes with Steven Webber. Amanda Peet was fine but Whitford never crackled against her. Even the good adds: Darius, McKinney's character, Lucy -- went nowhere. I feel like I don't have a dog in this hunt.
- Not enough story. Three Parters that should be two, Two Parters that should be one. No nailing of tone. This lurch into romantic comedy is hamfisted because it still doesn't matter because, well...see point number one.
Come back Casey McCall and Dan Rydell. All is forgiven.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Rain, Rain, Move Away
Well well well. Super Bowl Sunday. I can't get used to the fact that there will still be day left once the game ends for me. That's....odd. This Pacific Time is strange.
Anyway, right now I have a motivator. Some work to do before the game.
Yesterday, though, it was a wonderfully rainy, but not too cold Saturday in Vancouver, and I spent a good portion of my day exploring Gastown. It's a wonderful, unique place -- made even more wonderful by the fact of its proximity to Van's sketchiest neighbourhood, the Downtown East Side. That's how the New York in my memory's laid out, too. The closer you get to a cool neighborhood, the more you're taking your life in your hands.
In Toronto, all the real estate's too expensive and the moment a scene starts to heat up, it seems to be Disneyfied almost overnight. (I mean, I have never seen a Starbucks go up so fast as in Parkdale after the Drake.) In Montreal, my favorite neighborhood is more like an old-timey theme park (Vieux Montreal.)
Anyway, amidst my wanderings were ponderings.
I've said before that I write this blog mainly for a procrastination focuser and outlet, and I guess, too, as kind of an ersatz journal of sorts. But you know how it is, along the way you give writing advice too because, well...you're not really qualified to talk about anything else.
Now. One of the things I was pondering was what I should do after this current job ends. Should I go home, travel a bit, maybe explore one of the west coast cities I haven't seen a lot, like Portland or Seattle or even back to San Francisco, which I've only vistited once? Part of me had the quixotic idea of maybe going up and seeing Alaska, before Global Warming turns it into Burbank.
Then, too. There's L.A. Sigh.
At times like this it's just so easy to fall back on my Catholic upbringing.
Bless me father, for I have sinned.
It's been six years since I had a real job.
I work hard, I do pretty well.
But...I'm not sure anymore. I'm just not.
I have thought impurely about a couple of actresses.
I have taken the VP of the CBC's name in vain.
I have coveted my neighbor's house. And his boat. And his car.
I have worshipped false idols.
It's that last one that's really sticking in my craw. I've been trying to booster the industry I know. I've looked around and I've seen the incredible talent that I want to work with, the talent that for whatever reason, has such trouble breaking through, and making anything but a hardscrabble living here. I've tried to reach out, and punch through, and get people to talk about what's wrong.
But then I read things like this by Margaret Atwood, and turn over things like the joke that was the last CTRC hearings -- for which I once held out hope, now, not so much, and the winds blowing on the CTF and I think to myself, "Self...what are you struggling for? This country and their people simply do not care about what you do. Go." (Note: that last link used to link to a Globe Article with about a million ignorant comments from Canadians about Canadian Tv. Now The Globe wants you to pay for it. Don't bother. The comments on the comments in my post kind of tell the tale.)
See, for me it's not a question of, "am I good enough?" I am. It's nice to be self-deprecating and not to be a raging monstrous ego, but I'm now in a place where I'm doing the only thing I've ever really wanted to do, and I know I'm good at it.
I also know that I don't need to worry about selling a house.
I don't need to worry about where my kids will go to school.
I don't have to think about what my spouse would do.
I don't have to worry about getting a green card.
What's kept me in Canada so far are lifestyle issues: a dislike for L.A., a familiarity and comfort in the proximity of friends. The thought that maybe, just maybe, there was something noble in bucking the trend of bugging out and going to worship Mammon; maybe sticking it out and proving that there could be a Canadian industry where quality was valued and celebrated...
...but I'm not sure I believe that's true anymore.
Sadly, I'm not sure I think anyone who could actually change things cares enough to try to change things. Because there aren't votes there. There's no outrage from the people. You can tell Canadians that puts them out of step with the rest of the world, but they still don't care.
If that's the case, isn't it ridiculous and presumtious, as a writer, to say "I'll do it? I'll take on the Sysiphusian task!" Because the mechanism of how TV works in this country still puts you at the bottom of the ladder of influence.
Somebody recently asked me, "what do you really think is going to happen in the industry?" And the framing of that question just kind of knocked the wind out of me. Because instead of being optimistic or saying, "here's what I think will happen..." they were asking me what I really think is going to happen. And if I have to answer that question, my answer's not good. I think the trends of years will probably continue, and in another generation the debates over what is Canadian culture will be irrelevant because we'll have a whole generation that's totally Americanized anyway.
So what do I do with this knowledge?
Well. It strikes me that perhaps, just perhaps, the next thing to marshall my energy toward is moving south. It's not giving up. I'm not the one who did that. I'm just not sure that the equity I have invested in the industry in this country is really worth anything. Maybe it never was. I don't know. Maybe it's just a sense of fatalism in the air. But I'm starting to think, no. No it's not.
I feel I have to tell you this: if you are a new writer in Canada, and you're just starting out, and you've gone to the Film Centre or you've gone to SFU or somewhere; if you're single, and don't have a wife and kids and comittments, If there's nothing holding you here: I simply can't lie to you and say that, yup, you should focus your efforts on trying to make it in Canada. It's just a course of action that doesn't make sense.
What you should be doing, is working, saving your money, doing your research, and figuring out how you can get to Los Angeles. If you're just starting out, you might as well try to start out there. Yes, it's bigger. Yes, there's more competition. But in the long run, even though the U.S. industry has its problems too, it is an industry. It is not permanently dysfunctional. It might have a chance of getting fixed. You should place your bets there.
Now, there's labor nightmares on the horizon down there, too. I wouldn't advise making that move right away. But making that kind of life-change plan should be something that you plan out over a year or more, anyway. What I am saying, though, is that maybe rather than trying to get that idea to CTV or Global or CBC, you should be sharpening your samples and pitching them toward the U.S. market. Then when the labor situation rights itself, make the move. Learn from people who actually teach and try to develop new talent. Work in an industry that rewards you.
Now, Sorry, I can't tell you how to get a greencard. (I don't need one, so I don't know.) But you can research that, too. There are other places you can go to research that. Hit the library. I just feel, in good conscience, I can't keep telling people here to try breaking into the Canadian system, because I don't feel that's the best use of your time.
As for me? Well. That's an open question. Probably something that's going to need some more pondering. More walks in the rain. In a way, now's the perfect time to do this kind of thinking. I'm not depressed. I'm pretty happy, actually. Very satisfied with the work I'm doing, happy to be working with the people I'm working with -- satisfied in just about every important way. But the rain, she does clarify things sometimes. I guess what's washed away is a bit of my fight. Sometimes when you keep your eyes on the prize long enough, the rain kind of clears things and you start to see that the prize isn't anything that special.
I'm pretty sure that at least part of my professional development through 2007 and 2008 will be exploring my options in the United States.
I won't be the first, and judging by the continued indifference and dysfunction that rules the Canadian industry, I'll be far from the last.
Anyway, right now I have a motivator. Some work to do before the game.
Yesterday, though, it was a wonderfully rainy, but not too cold Saturday in Vancouver, and I spent a good portion of my day exploring Gastown. It's a wonderful, unique place -- made even more wonderful by the fact of its proximity to Van's sketchiest neighbourhood, the Downtown East Side. That's how the New York in my memory's laid out, too. The closer you get to a cool neighborhood, the more you're taking your life in your hands.
In Toronto, all the real estate's too expensive and the moment a scene starts to heat up, it seems to be Disneyfied almost overnight. (I mean, I have never seen a Starbucks go up so fast as in Parkdale after the Drake.) In Montreal, my favorite neighborhood is more like an old-timey theme park (Vieux Montreal.)
Anyway, amidst my wanderings were ponderings.
I've said before that I write this blog mainly for a procrastination focuser and outlet, and I guess, too, as kind of an ersatz journal of sorts. But you know how it is, along the way you give writing advice too because, well...you're not really qualified to talk about anything else.
Now. One of the things I was pondering was what I should do after this current job ends. Should I go home, travel a bit, maybe explore one of the west coast cities I haven't seen a lot, like Portland or Seattle or even back to San Francisco, which I've only vistited once? Part of me had the quixotic idea of maybe going up and seeing Alaska, before Global Warming turns it into Burbank.
Then, too. There's L.A. Sigh.
At times like this it's just so easy to fall back on my Catholic upbringing.
Bless me father, for I have sinned.
It's been six years since I had a real job.
I work hard, I do pretty well.
But...I'm not sure anymore. I'm just not.
I have thought impurely about a couple of actresses.
I have taken the VP of the CBC's name in vain.
I have coveted my neighbor's house. And his boat. And his car.
I have worshipped false idols.
It's that last one that's really sticking in my craw. I've been trying to booster the industry I know. I've looked around and I've seen the incredible talent that I want to work with, the talent that for whatever reason, has such trouble breaking through, and making anything but a hardscrabble living here. I've tried to reach out, and punch through, and get people to talk about what's wrong.
But then I read things like this by Margaret Atwood, and turn over things like the joke that was the last CTRC hearings -- for which I once held out hope, now, not so much, and the winds blowing on the CTF and I think to myself, "Self...what are you struggling for? This country and their people simply do not care about what you do. Go." (Note: that last link used to link to a Globe Article with about a million ignorant comments from Canadians about Canadian Tv. Now The Globe wants you to pay for it. Don't bother. The comments on the comments in my post kind of tell the tale.)
See, for me it's not a question of, "am I good enough?" I am. It's nice to be self-deprecating and not to be a raging monstrous ego, but I'm now in a place where I'm doing the only thing I've ever really wanted to do, and I know I'm good at it.
I also know that I don't need to worry about selling a house.
I don't need to worry about where my kids will go to school.
I don't have to think about what my spouse would do.
I don't have to worry about getting a green card.
What's kept me in Canada so far are lifestyle issues: a dislike for L.A., a familiarity and comfort in the proximity of friends. The thought that maybe, just maybe, there was something noble in bucking the trend of bugging out and going to worship Mammon; maybe sticking it out and proving that there could be a Canadian industry where quality was valued and celebrated...
...but I'm not sure I believe that's true anymore.
Sadly, I'm not sure I think anyone who could actually change things cares enough to try to change things. Because there aren't votes there. There's no outrage from the people. You can tell Canadians that puts them out of step with the rest of the world, but they still don't care.
If that's the case, isn't it ridiculous and presumtious, as a writer, to say "I'll do it? I'll take on the Sysiphusian task!" Because the mechanism of how TV works in this country still puts you at the bottom of the ladder of influence.
Somebody recently asked me, "what do you really think is going to happen in the industry?" And the framing of that question just kind of knocked the wind out of me. Because instead of being optimistic or saying, "here's what I think will happen..." they were asking me what I really think is going to happen. And if I have to answer that question, my answer's not good. I think the trends of years will probably continue, and in another generation the debates over what is Canadian culture will be irrelevant because we'll have a whole generation that's totally Americanized anyway.
So what do I do with this knowledge?
Well. It strikes me that perhaps, just perhaps, the next thing to marshall my energy toward is moving south. It's not giving up. I'm not the one who did that. I'm just not sure that the equity I have invested in the industry in this country is really worth anything. Maybe it never was. I don't know. Maybe it's just a sense of fatalism in the air. But I'm starting to think, no. No it's not.
I feel I have to tell you this: if you are a new writer in Canada, and you're just starting out, and you've gone to the Film Centre or you've gone to SFU or somewhere; if you're single, and don't have a wife and kids and comittments, If there's nothing holding you here: I simply can't lie to you and say that, yup, you should focus your efforts on trying to make it in Canada. It's just a course of action that doesn't make sense.
What you should be doing, is working, saving your money, doing your research, and figuring out how you can get to Los Angeles. If you're just starting out, you might as well try to start out there. Yes, it's bigger. Yes, there's more competition. But in the long run, even though the U.S. industry has its problems too, it is an industry. It is not permanently dysfunctional. It might have a chance of getting fixed. You should place your bets there.
Now, there's labor nightmares on the horizon down there, too. I wouldn't advise making that move right away. But making that kind of life-change plan should be something that you plan out over a year or more, anyway. What I am saying, though, is that maybe rather than trying to get that idea to CTV or Global or CBC, you should be sharpening your samples and pitching them toward the U.S. market. Then when the labor situation rights itself, make the move. Learn from people who actually teach and try to develop new talent. Work in an industry that rewards you.
Now, Sorry, I can't tell you how to get a greencard. (I don't need one, so I don't know.) But you can research that, too. There are other places you can go to research that. Hit the library. I just feel, in good conscience, I can't keep telling people here to try breaking into the Canadian system, because I don't feel that's the best use of your time.
As for me? Well. That's an open question. Probably something that's going to need some more pondering. More walks in the rain. In a way, now's the perfect time to do this kind of thinking. I'm not depressed. I'm pretty happy, actually. Very satisfied with the work I'm doing, happy to be working with the people I'm working with -- satisfied in just about every important way. But the rain, she does clarify things sometimes. I guess what's washed away is a bit of my fight. Sometimes when you keep your eyes on the prize long enough, the rain kind of clears things and you start to see that the prize isn't anything that special.
I'm pretty sure that at least part of my professional development through 2007 and 2008 will be exploring my options in the United States.
I won't be the first, and judging by the continued indifference and dysfunction that rules the Canadian industry, I'll be far from the last.
Stumbled Upon: My Upcoming Reading
One of the places I wandered into yesterday in Gastown was Biz Books, a nice and cozy little Film/TV/Theatre bookstore. Toronto's version is called Theatrebooks, and it's in the middle of Yorkvile -- a place I try to avoid. Biz Books is a whole lot more comfy.I think maybe I was softened a bit to buy some industry-like books, cause the night before I'd seen an excellent production of Morris Panych's Vigil at the Vancouver Playhouse. I'd never seen this play, and I thoroughly enjoyed it; even more so knowing it was the playwright's first time playing the role.
I was also weak because, you know, I've got this ongoing yen for playwriting that's kind of like a scab I can never stop picking. Believe me, if I'm down on the Canadian TV industry, then I'd be swinging from the rafters if I ever truly threw myself into theatre and tried to be a full time...shudder...Canadian playwrightC. As I've said to friends many times, "Ah, that sweet, sweet, sweet theatre money."
So I dropped a ton of cash on lots of books. And before you ask, Alex, yes. They had both your books. And they were shelved in some pretty good real estate too -- right at eye level.
Anyway...I started out with a copy of Conor McPherson's Shining City because I saw the play last year on Broadway and loved it.
Peter Farrelly's The Comedy Writer was a trade paperback impulse buy. Novels about the business -- it's like not working, only not so much!
I've been thinking for a while that I need to sharpen my verbal pitching skills. I'm starting to be one of those guys who goes off on tangents when he tells a story, so I figured Michael Hauge's Selling Your Story in 60 Seconds might be useful.
I remember hearing about Writing the TV Drama Series by Pamela Douglas, but I really bought it because it had pull quotes by John Wells, David Milch, and Bochco. And a nifty cover. There you go, bitches. Marketing works.
I know some of the people quoted in Alone in a Room by John Scott Lewinski so I took a flyer on that.
And finally, I bought another copy of Steven Pressfield's ESSENTIAL The War of Art because I left my last copy on the A Train the last time I was in New York.I also picked up Joseph Campbell's The Hero With a Thousand Faces because (shamefully, I know) I've never read it.
What's sometimes even more interesting in these cases are the ones you don't buy. I recall some people talking about Save The Cat! Anybody read it? Worthwhile?
I also was seriously considering buying a book by some guy with a PhD who ran down psychology for screenwriters...but I was afraid that if I read it it might make me sound less like a writer and more like a network executive or film studies professor.
I'll let you know about these books as I work through them. Now maybe I should find something cheaper to do, like trying to stalk The Police while they're here rehearsing.
Oh, one more thing...when I was complaining about the lack of pubs, some anonymous commenter suggested The Irish Heather. You win. Mmm. Guinness, how I've missed you.
A note to any publisher P.R. people reading this: I do love the people at Biz Books, but yes, I will definitely review books on TV writing if you send me free copies. That's just how daddy rolls.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Yet More Motor City Photos
Russ Martin was a stills photographer on Across the River to Motor City, the show I wrote and co-created last year. (Which should air sometime Fall 2007 on CHUM stations in Canada.) All of these shots were from his site, which can be found here. Some really great stuff.
ATR traces one character in two eras. Sasha Roiz plays the young Ben Ford in the 1960's. David Fox plays the contemporary Ben.
At right, another photo of Matt Deslippe as mobster Frank Calasso, whose ambition causes him to try and work both sides of the U.S.-Canadian border.
David Fox (below) is one of Canada's finest actors. I've been seeing him for years in theatre, and on TV. It was such a thrill to hear him saying words I wrote, I can't even tell you. And he looks fetching in prison-issue orange.
In the photo at right, you get a sense, I think, of what the D.O.P., David Greene, and the Director, Michael DeCarlo, brought to the show. It looks really beautiful. David Greene's got a great eye, and his vibrant visual sensibility is probably Michael's main strength as a Director.
This is fun. This is actually an "art department" photo. In one episode, Ben is working a divorce case (in 1964, where the law in Canada meant that you HAD to prove adultery, and go through a whole bunch of embarrassing steps before you could petition Parliament to dissolve your marriage. Seriously.) As a character in the show says in the script, "You Canadians. I'm surprised you didn't have to phone the Queen." I include this photo because it features an actor I love named Bruce Hunter, and a very nice girl whose name I'm forgetting, who I talked to for quite a while on set. She was a trouper.
This is Young Ben Ford and his girlfriend, Katie, in happier times, sometime before the start of our narrative.
If you're from Detroit or Windsor, this stadium probably needs no introduction. We got in before they tore it down.
Saving the best for last. What's a story that spans two eras without a fantasy girl that got away? This is from a dream sequence, and, unless I miss my guess, is the only scene that the lovely Charlotte Sullivan (Katie) shares with the older Ben Ford (David Fox)
Again, all photos are by Russ Martin. If you're looking for art dept, production, or gallery photos, he can be reached at russ@russmartin.ca
ATR traces one character in two eras. Sasha Roiz plays the young Ben Ford in the 1960's. David Fox plays the contemporary Ben.
At right, another photo of Matt Deslippe as mobster Frank Calasso, whose ambition causes him to try and work both sides of the U.S.-Canadian border.
David Fox (below) is one of Canada's finest actors. I've been seeing him for years in theatre, and on TV. It was such a thrill to hear him saying words I wrote, I can't even tell you. And he looks fetching in prison-issue orange.
In the photo at right, you get a sense, I think, of what the D.O.P., David Greene, and the Director, Michael DeCarlo, brought to the show. It looks really beautiful. David Greene's got a great eye, and his vibrant visual sensibility is probably Michael's main strength as a Director.
This is fun. This is actually an "art department" photo. In one episode, Ben is working a divorce case (in 1964, where the law in Canada meant that you HAD to prove adultery, and go through a whole bunch of embarrassing steps before you could petition Parliament to dissolve your marriage. Seriously.) As a character in the show says in the script, "You Canadians. I'm surprised you didn't have to phone the Queen." I include this photo because it features an actor I love named Bruce Hunter, and a very nice girl whose name I'm forgetting, who I talked to for quite a while on set. She was a trouper.
This is Young Ben Ford and his girlfriend, Katie, in happier times, sometime before the start of our narrative.
If you're from Detroit or Windsor, this stadium probably needs no introduction. We got in before they tore it down.
Saving the best for last. What's a story that spans two eras without a fantasy girl that got away? This is from a dream sequence, and, unless I miss my guess, is the only scene that the lovely Charlotte Sullivan (Katie) shares with the older Ben Ford (David Fox)
Again, all photos are by Russ Martin. If you're looking for art dept, production, or gallery photos, he can be reached at russ@russmartin.ca
Friday, February 2, 2007
As Long As There is Death, There Is Hope
Okay, Okay...I said below that I wouldn't be posting Friday, but I'd forgotten that it was Letterman's 25th anniversary.
When it comes to Television comedy, I've learned that you can actually tell in the room what a writer's "original comedy sin" is. For me, and for a lot of writers my age, that sin--that main influence-- is Letterman by a mile, with maybe a dollop of Carson and George Carlin and Richard Pryor albums thrown in.
Go a little younger than me, and I've caught and appreciated people for whom The Simpsons was the big jumping off point. Or Conan. The Conan thing is strange, since he's so heavily influenced by Letterman himself.
I've yet to work with anyone who was influenced by Leno.
But I've had a great time trading quips and barbs from people who first discovered Peter Sellers. Or Python. Or Blackadder. They bring a different sensibility.
Go a little older, and I get those for whom the genre busting standups were all: Carlin and Pryor, and the first years of SNL.
Then, with some, the wall of formalism creeps in. Beyond the Fringe and the Goon Show both may have been cutting edge for their time, but time's passed them by, now. People getting closer to my parents' age remember Milton Berle and Nichols and May, and I Love Lucy and Dick Van Dyke and Carl Reiner and Mel Brooks' 2000 Year Old Man, and Newhart ...and the list goes on.
It's not that I don't appreciate these comics. I love old Nichols and May, for example. And I'm quite proud of that Complete Dick Van Dyke Show set sitting on my shelf. But your comedy original sin determines where you go first: your go-to's. And in the room, your comedy go-to's kind of define you.
From Carson, I learned the value of letting the other person look funny. That is a lesson that's so important, a lesson that, sadly, often goes unlearned (it certainly has with every Canadian who's ever tried to host a radio show or a tv show here.)
But Letterman was a revelation completely untoward. It's hard to describe what it was like, seeing those early Late Night bits. There was comedy of the absurd, there was the original rise of irony. He was a terrible, terrible interviewer. For people who complain about him today, you really need to see Letterman in those early bits. He stinks. He was irascible, and uncomfortable. He was goofy. He seemed to show no respect to the tradition he was inheriting. Then you realized, if you kept watching, just how wrong that was -- just how much he respected those who had come before.
How to communicate to people maybe a little younger what it was like to have to sneak down and set that first family VCR to tape Letterman each night? The VCR that you begged your Mom and Dad to get mainly so you could tape Letterman -- the original sinner repeating the sin, over and over, with no thought of repentance. The VCR that was as easy to program as the Space Shuttle, and just about as noisy.
Then, later...the fact that after all these years, you can only now finally admit it: Yes, Mom. Yes, Dad. I know I denied it at the time, but my grades in Grade Eleven DID slip because I was up too late watching Letterman. There. It's said. It's out. You were right. Gosh. That does feel good.
As I was sucking up irony and that Letterman sensibility in the dark, I was forging my comic personality; the trip wires that still signify me, that define the pathways into what I will and won't find funny. It was not without cost. Letterman said, "what the hell?" so much, that my constant repetition of the phrase got me thrown off the school announcements by a peevish Christian teacher. Hah! To a one, those high school teachers didn't understand this 'humor,' this irony that we all were sucking up from Letterman like air. The impertinence! We were like ravenous zombies scouring the world for things to make us laugh. Things that were for us. No internet, no 176 cable channels devoted to our tiny slice of interest; no marketers catering directly to us. It was Letterman or teen ski-and-sex movies. That's it.
"That's not funny." Ahhhhh. Good times. So much more than a velcro suit, or throwing stuff off a roof, that is the true legacy of Letterman. It is the thing that made us able to point to our elders and say, "You are square."
I don't mean to be one of those people who say, "Oh the original was better," but there was something lost when Dave moved to 11:30. Not to say the show wasn't still funny. Not to say that I'm not amazed how he can still rear up every once in a while and be very relevant, like his post-9/11 shows or his post heart surgery shows, or when he takes down people like Bill O'Reilly.
But I guess by the time that move to CBS happened, Letterman and the comedy that he wrought was firmly in the mainstream. So of course it seemed less...dangerous, somehow. I mean, when "The World's Most Dangerous Band" changes its name to "The CBS Orchestra," the firmament has shifted, my friends.
Which is why I think like my friend Rob, I was so disappointed that Letterman was so low key in his marking of the anniversary last night. Damnit, this is important!
As much as I might like The Daily Show, for instance, I can't say that the form of what Stewart's doing is revolutionary. Colbert may have more of a claim to that, but even there, to me, nothing touches what Letterman did on NBC. Nothing beats my memory of spending a day riding around in a limo with Calvert "Larry Bud Melman" DeForest. (I did a story on him when I was a producer, following him around on an advertising-driven day when he was doing promo work for Pizza Hut. He was a very nice man. Not as strange as on the show, but don't kid yourself -- not that far away, either.) Nothing beats the time I waited outside 30 Rock, on crutches, for a glimpse of Letterman doing a remote segment. You can see me in the B.G. of the camper van as Larry Bud heads off for Tierra Del Fuego.
One of these days, I'm going to find myself in a room with someone whose comedy original sin is South Park. Or Aqua Teen Hunger Force. And I'll struggle with their go-to's and finding the bridge between us. And that's fine.
So long as it's not Dane Fucking Cook.
Below, a short clip of the guy who was my all time favorite Late Night With David Letterman guest: Brother Theodore. (The title of this post is another memorable Theodore line.) I remember watching this live, and Dave's calm question reduced me to a puddle on the floor. I think my laughter woke my parents up. I think Dave got me in trouble.
Thanks a lot, Letterman. Asshole!
(this post was edited slightly after publication, to fix a couple mistakes and expand a few points.)
When it comes to Television comedy, I've learned that you can actually tell in the room what a writer's "original comedy sin" is. For me, and for a lot of writers my age, that sin--that main influence-- is Letterman by a mile, with maybe a dollop of Carson and George Carlin and Richard Pryor albums thrown in.
Go a little younger than me, and I've caught and appreciated people for whom The Simpsons was the big jumping off point. Or Conan. The Conan thing is strange, since he's so heavily influenced by Letterman himself.
I've yet to work with anyone who was influenced by Leno.
But I've had a great time trading quips and barbs from people who first discovered Peter Sellers. Or Python. Or Blackadder. They bring a different sensibility.
Go a little older, and I get those for whom the genre busting standups were all: Carlin and Pryor, and the first years of SNL.
Then, with some, the wall of formalism creeps in. Beyond the Fringe and the Goon Show both may have been cutting edge for their time, but time's passed them by, now. People getting closer to my parents' age remember Milton Berle and Nichols and May, and I Love Lucy and Dick Van Dyke and Carl Reiner and Mel Brooks' 2000 Year Old Man, and Newhart ...and the list goes on.
It's not that I don't appreciate these comics. I love old Nichols and May, for example. And I'm quite proud of that Complete Dick Van Dyke Show set sitting on my shelf. But your comedy original sin determines where you go first: your go-to's. And in the room, your comedy go-to's kind of define you.
From Carson, I learned the value of letting the other person look funny. That is a lesson that's so important, a lesson that, sadly, often goes unlearned (it certainly has with every Canadian who's ever tried to host a radio show or a tv show here.)
But Letterman was a revelation completely untoward. It's hard to describe what it was like, seeing those early Late Night bits. There was comedy of the absurd, there was the original rise of irony. He was a terrible, terrible interviewer. For people who complain about him today, you really need to see Letterman in those early bits. He stinks. He was irascible, and uncomfortable. He was goofy. He seemed to show no respect to the tradition he was inheriting. Then you realized, if you kept watching, just how wrong that was -- just how much he respected those who had come before.
How to communicate to people maybe a little younger what it was like to have to sneak down and set that first family VCR to tape Letterman each night? The VCR that you begged your Mom and Dad to get mainly so you could tape Letterman -- the original sinner repeating the sin, over and over, with no thought of repentance. The VCR that was as easy to program as the Space Shuttle, and just about as noisy.
Then, later...the fact that after all these years, you can only now finally admit it: Yes, Mom. Yes, Dad. I know I denied it at the time, but my grades in Grade Eleven DID slip because I was up too late watching Letterman. There. It's said. It's out. You were right. Gosh. That does feel good.
As I was sucking up irony and that Letterman sensibility in the dark, I was forging my comic personality; the trip wires that still signify me, that define the pathways into what I will and won't find funny. It was not without cost. Letterman said, "what the hell?" so much, that my constant repetition of the phrase got me thrown off the school announcements by a peevish Christian teacher. Hah! To a one, those high school teachers didn't understand this 'humor,' this irony that we all were sucking up from Letterman like air. The impertinence! We were like ravenous zombies scouring the world for things to make us laugh. Things that were for us. No internet, no 176 cable channels devoted to our tiny slice of interest; no marketers catering directly to us. It was Letterman or teen ski-and-sex movies. That's it.
"That's not funny." Ahhhhh. Good times. So much more than a velcro suit, or throwing stuff off a roof, that is the true legacy of Letterman. It is the thing that made us able to point to our elders and say, "You are square."
I don't mean to be one of those people who say, "Oh the original was better," but there was something lost when Dave moved to 11:30. Not to say the show wasn't still funny. Not to say that I'm not amazed how he can still rear up every once in a while and be very relevant, like his post-9/11 shows or his post heart surgery shows, or when he takes down people like Bill O'Reilly.
But I guess by the time that move to CBS happened, Letterman and the comedy that he wrought was firmly in the mainstream. So of course it seemed less...dangerous, somehow. I mean, when "The World's Most Dangerous Band" changes its name to "The CBS Orchestra," the firmament has shifted, my friends.
Which is why I think like my friend Rob, I was so disappointed that Letterman was so low key in his marking of the anniversary last night. Damnit, this is important!
As much as I might like The Daily Show, for instance, I can't say that the form of what Stewart's doing is revolutionary. Colbert may have more of a claim to that, but even there, to me, nothing touches what Letterman did on NBC. Nothing beats my memory of spending a day riding around in a limo with Calvert "Larry Bud Melman" DeForest. (I did a story on him when I was a producer, following him around on an advertising-driven day when he was doing promo work for Pizza Hut. He was a very nice man. Not as strange as on the show, but don't kid yourself -- not that far away, either.) Nothing beats the time I waited outside 30 Rock, on crutches, for a glimpse of Letterman doing a remote segment. You can see me in the B.G. of the camper van as Larry Bud heads off for Tierra Del Fuego.
One of these days, I'm going to find myself in a room with someone whose comedy original sin is South Park. Or Aqua Teen Hunger Force. And I'll struggle with their go-to's and finding the bridge between us. And that's fine.
So long as it's not Dane Fucking Cook.
Below, a short clip of the guy who was my all time favorite Late Night With David Letterman guest: Brother Theodore. (The title of this post is another memorable Theodore line.) I remember watching this live, and Dave's calm question reduced me to a puddle on the floor. I think my laughter woke my parents up. I think Dave got me in trouble.
Thanks a lot, Letterman. Asshole!
(this post was edited slightly after publication, to fix a couple mistakes and expand a few points.)
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Blood Ties Preview
Well, there's no way that I can equal the nuttiness of the post below. And you've gotten your free dollar's worth today.
Today was a good day...a bunch of 'spitting' stories for the final three eps of the season. Then, at the end of the day it's tagged with this:
Our first promo from Lifetime, up on YouTube. AWESOME. So there you go. American viewers, tune in in March. Canadians...well...um...the Canadian Broadcaster is CHUM and they haven't scheduled the show yet. Maybe you might email them or write them and ask, POLITELY, when they're gonna start the show.
I mean it about the polite thing. When I was at CHUM, I read some of the viewer inquiries. And some of them were...well...just this side of actionable. Seriously, use the manners your mum taught you. And if she didn't ... fake it.
No blogging tomorrow (what, all these posts aren't enough? You should pace yourself.) Story notes and writing through the weekend. Hope you all have a good one. Tip your waiter.
Today was a good day...a bunch of 'spitting' stories for the final three eps of the season. Then, at the end of the day it's tagged with this:
Our first promo from Lifetime, up on YouTube. AWESOME. So there you go. American viewers, tune in in March. Canadians...well...um...the Canadian Broadcaster is CHUM and they haven't scheduled the show yet. Maybe you might email them or write them and ask, POLITELY, when they're gonna start the show.
I mean it about the polite thing. When I was at CHUM, I read some of the viewer inquiries. And some of them were...well...just this side of actionable. Seriously, use the manners your mum taught you. And if she didn't ... fake it.
No blogging tomorrow (what, all these posts aren't enough? You should pace yourself.) Story notes and writing through the weekend. Hope you all have a good one. Tip your waiter.
First Casualties in The Coming War on Irony
Well I don't know what's the what, but while I've been writing apparently the world went crazy yet again. Never mind the crazy bride, who turns out to be a student from the University I taught at...but what are we to make of this?
Moments after facing a judge on felony charges, the two defendants in the cartoon character ploy that panicked the region were all smiles and jokes, staging a mocking press conference this afternoon outside the Charlestown courthouse in which they deflected questions about their culpability with non sequiter quips about their hair.See? It all comes down to a bullshit corporate stunt gone bad . Aqua Teen Hunger Force, guerilla promo devices that have been up in other cities for weeks, causes a terror scare. Merciful Aunt Helen!
"Hair today, gone tomorrow," said Sean Stevens, 28, when asked about the charges.
Stevens and Peter Berdovsky, 27, pleaded not guilty to charges of placing a hoax device and disorderly conduct. Authorities say the two men were responsible for placing 38 electronic signs depicting characters from the "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" program on Cartoon Network as part of a guerilla marketing campaign for the show.
Of course, the minute things went bad, Turner Broadcasting basically SHAT themselves, and went straight into massive mea culpa mode:
But see, no one got the script to the fall guys -- who are the very demo that Turner makes money off of with "hip" shows like Aqua Teen. These are the guys who got the joke -- and for whom the overreaction is going to be seen as legendary.
To watch these guys below is just painful. The ridiculous over reaction by both the authorities and the media is made so much worse by their absolute refusal to play the role into which they've been cast.
THIS IS FREE SPEECH, kids. This is Jonathan Swift advocating the eating of Irish Babies (A Modest Proposal)...this is Poor Richard's Almanac...this is liberal stalwart Caroll O'Connor decrying racism by playing Archie Bunker. This is Chaplin in Modern Times taking on Hitler. America...you used to get this kind of thing!
The funny thing is that even Fox News seems not to know what to do with it. It's like making fun of Colbert. How do you mock someone who's mocking you?
Of course, what we can't talk about is the real context for all this: how this bullshit stupid stunt in Boston went so quickly to hysteria because the United States, and its media, has been sucking on the crack pipe of manufactured fear for five years now. Terror threat levels raised before major events. Lying about CIA operatives. The complete and utter mendacity of the current administration, who play fast and loose with American lives by hammering home talking points, then abandoning them and denying they were ever said. All of it creating a culture of hysteria and fear and deceit, where a a compliant, and complacent news media would rather track every motion of Lindsey Lohan and Paris Hilton than actually offer a coherent context for world events, so that stupid stunts like this don't make everyone go all Chicken Little.
Seriously, America...you are messed up right now. You're a sixteen year old girl who's drank a gallon of schnapps and two Mike's Hard, and your bra strap is backwards and your makeup is smudged, and the last thing you need to be doing is going to that bush party with that scary, skanky guy who chews the mints and calls you 'breasty.'
And to think, all it takes to put the entire mediascape into sharp relief, all it takes to puncture all of this hysterical bullshit is two assholes. One with dreadlocks. Unbelievable.
How can I write fictional tv when this is what's really going on out there? You're taking bread from Daddy's mouth, here.
I don't even like Aqua Teen Hunger Force. But now, I have to support it. Shee-yit.
Little Mosque Numbers, Episode 3
One million, eighty five thousand viewers.
Okay CBC. You have a hit.
Now... can you make the show a little better, please? And don't pull the schedule bumping thing again, M'kay?
Okay CBC. You have a hit.
Now... can you make the show a little better, please? And don't pull the schedule bumping thing again, M'kay?
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