Oh, I Can’t Always Be A Grump

Christmas was kind of a mixed bag this year. On the negative side were the monkey wrenches that a series of unexpected events threw into the works. On the positive was the first Christmas snow the DC area has seen since Die Hard 2.

Not all of the unexpected events were negative in and of themselves; Christmas Eve saw the birth of my first nephew, for example (congratulations, Pete and Dena). But for the most part, we were contending with sudden illnesses, late-arriving presents, and the like. After all was said and done, though, I think we ended on a fairly positive note — and by that I mean the kids were happy. It’s amazing how much your outlook can change. Before I had kids, I’d always assumed people were exaggerating when they said how their primary concern was making the kids happy. Oh, sure, it’s a nice sentiment, but a little too rosy for life in the real world. Seeing my girls — who are now both old enough to really “get it” — light up on Christmas morning truly changed my mind. And believe me, I’m the most surprised of anyone to hear a confirmed cynic like myself say that.

Hope everyone’s having a wonderful holiday season, and I’ll see you all next year.

The Problem With Palm

It’s particularly frustrating when a technophile like myself runs into a problem I can’t fix on my own. I’m used to doing all of my own troubleshooting, with minimal outside support. Part of this has been out of necessity — my department is the only Mac-based outfit in an otherwise Wintel company, and tech support from our IS department is pretty much nil. Now, the process is a little more standardized, with my cohort David Lawson handling departmental tech issues, but I still like to stay pretty independent.

Last spring my Palm m505 refused to synchronize with my computer. After trying everything under the sun — and doing a pantload of research — I discovered that there was a recurring problem with the m505 units (one that Palm refused to admit) in that their USB connections would get hosed by a single static-electricity shock. And with winters being what they are in D.C., we get a lot of those friendly little zaps. Once Palm finally realized they had a widespread problem on their hands, they started being a lot more forthcoming and helpful in replacing the defective units.

Less than a year after their release, the m505s were discontinued in favor of the m515s. I finally ate the long-distance charges for tech support (plus the additional $25 charge from Palm) and called it in; fortunately, by this time, things were fairly well established, and they shipped me out a replacement (and waived the $25). In fact, they sent the replacement out first, so I wasn’t without a handheld at any point. It wasn’t a new m515, but at least it worked.

It just happened again. My Palm’s USB syncing died. And to their credit, Palm tech support was just as helpful and friendly as last time. Now, it’d be nice if they sent a more reliable 515 (or, why not, a Tungsten T), but I’m not counting on it. Right now, all I can do is wait.

Yes, I Am Prescient — Thank You For Noticing

Well, whaddaya know. I talk about a couple of things (here and here), The Washington Post picks ’em up. Well, I suppose it wasn’t a direct correlation... Whatever the case, there are a couple of articles worth reading, one on the whole film versus digital video debate, and another on film soundtracks. Take a look, and I’ll write something original once I’m actually back from vacation.

A Holiday Lollapalooza

Wow, I’m really swamped trying to get things done before I disappear for the holidays — so far, I’m actually doing pretty well at checking things off of my to-do list. Of course, having said list integrated into my daily calendar on my Palm keeps most of the big items top-of-mind. I’ve still got a lot of video capturing to do before the week’s out, not to mention finishing up my latest Inkblots movie critique. Oh, and naturally, mailing out all the holiday cards and packages...

In any case, Happy (belated) Chanukah, Miraculous Festivus (a holiday of particular significance to me, as it coincides with another important day), Merry Christmas, Nzuri Kwanzaa, Blessed Eid, and Chaotic Mungday (though I should be back before then).

P.S.: The ONDCP redeemed themselves a bit with their “drive-thru” ad — much more credible and (hopefully) effective.

Rant Redux

I’m gonna have to get political again. Those of you who don’t want to hear my little rant go visit From the Marble Bar and come back tomorrow. Oh, wait, Dan’s going political today as well...

I just saw what I believe are the most mind-bogglingly stupid ads on television (I know, I’d like to kick my boob-tube addiction, but 24 is one of those shows I’m still stuck on). The ONCDP is running ads claiming that buying drugs supports terrorism. I remember the original ads running during the Superbowl, and was disgusted by the transparent attempt of the Bush administration to exploit the September 11 tragedy to push their agenda. I’m still disgusted.

This time, however, the commercial depicts two men &mdash shot in annyoyingly extreme closeup — debating the issue. The first questions why he should believe the government’s claim that buying drugs supports terrorism, and the second states simply, “Because it’s a fact.”

That’s it. That’s his wonderfully brilliant, insightful argument. Naturally, the first man accepts this explanation and moves on. Apparently, the ONDCP figures we’re all as amazingly stupid as this character.

A more logically defensible fact is that the policies of prohibition drive the prices up to insanely profitable levels. And that those profit margins are what make the drug trade such a lucrative business to be in, whether for street kids or terrorist organizations. The one quick and obvious way to win the drug war is (and always has been) legalization, taxation, and regulation of the industry. Don’t believe me? How many illegal tobacco or alcohol manufacturers do you see machine-gunning people out there?

I’m all in favor of attempts to reduce (or even effectively eliminate) demand for truly dangerous drugs. But the only effective way to do that is to convince people — logically and credibly — that they honestly do not want to do drugs. Trying to pervert patriotism like this is beneath contempt.

Surprise, Surprise, a Column About... Shopping (How Original)

In the longstanding tradition of columnists everywhere, I’ve decided to take my own narrow experiences and make sweeping generalizations about the sexes. (Why not? It’s my forum.) I’m going to dispel a common misconception: Men enjoy shopping as much as women. The key, as a madcap season of Christmas shopping has driven home, is what you’re shopping for.

The popular wisdom is that women enjoy the experience of shopping, while men prefer to run in, grab what they need, and get out as quickly as possible. And sure, that seems to hold true for what most people think of when they hear “shopping.” I can’t stand to go shopping for, say, clothing any longer than necessary; not that I don’t care what I wear (though some may argue that point), but the experience itself does nothing for me.

This is where I contend the thinking is too narrow; let’s turn it around. Say we’re shopping for DVDs. Here’s where Pam doesn’t want to spend any more time than necessary, while I could spend forever wandering the aisles at Best Buy, seeing what’s new, what discs are on sale, what hidden gems I’d long since forgotten. I’ll wander over to the computers for a while (Macs only, of course), walk through home audio before ending up in front a widescreen, high-definition television I can’t even come close to affording (note that I don’t set foot near the home appliances). I’ll behave similarly at Home Depot, and I’m not even all that much of a handyman. Borders or Barnes & Noble we can both get lost in.

I’m curious as to how my daughters will fit into my little stereotype. Our oldest just had her first solo shopping day, at the little “Secret Santa” store for kids at Springfield Mall; she was a little nervous at first, but that passed and she made a return foray to finish off the rest of her Christmas list. I’ll try to push her more toward the Best Buy end of things, but I can only do so much.

Ain’t No Such Thing

George Lucas is, in addition to being the world’s most successful independent filmmaker, an unparalleled technical innovator. Regardless of your opinion of Episode II (don’t get me started), the decision to shoot it entirely in high-resolution digital format is a groundbreaking step in the world of moviemaking. The pioneering work his team has done in bringing this capability just that much closer to mainstream feasibility is worthy of commendation, the first step in the opening of true feature production to the masses.

But, no matter what Lucas says, it ain’t filmmaking.

The distinction is worthy of note. If the perceived artistic divide between the worlds of film and television is vast, it pales in comparison with that between film and video. In the popular eye, video is the hallmark of cheap, low-production-value drivel, the staple of daytime television, the nadir of artistic endeavor. And it’s easy to see why — because the format itself is so much less expensive than film, it’s far easier to produce so-called entertainment on the cheap. The advent of home video capability has done even more to widen that divide. (Uncle Elwyn, you may love pointing your camera at the cat, but don’t ever start thinking that what you do is art.)

The problem comes about when respected filmmakers, like Quentin Tarantino, Steven Soderbergh, Robert Rodriguez, and now George Lucas start using video as the image-capturing tool of choice. The former two are very up-front about it, Tarantino using a Hi-8 camera for a (later cut) scene in Pulp Fiction and Soderbergh using an analog camera in sex, lies, and videotape and a Canon XL1s digital video camera (my personal camera of choice) for Full Frontal. In each of those cases, the video camera was always meant to represent just that.

Rodriguez and Lucas, however, are using the digital video camera to replace the film camera altogether. There are valid arguments both for and against this decision — the lower resolution of even high-definition video as compared with 35mm film versus the added ease of transferring the image into the digital realm for manipulation. In any case, Lucas is trying to distance himself from the stigma associated with videotape: He has decided to dub his process “digital film.”

The problem is that “film” is — by definition — shot on actual, physical film.

Whatever the assessment of his writing or directing abilities, no one would lump Lucas into the same category as daytime television producers; his motives in trying to keep that distance are understandable. But when he actually distorts the truth to make his point, it seems a little hard to swallow. The issue will become even more pronounced if, as Lucas plans, Episode III is not only shot on digital video, but distributed digitally as well (rather than transferred to film for projection, as with Episode II); at that point, even the argument that at least film was involved somewhere in the process will no longer hold.

Lest you think I’m making an issue out of nothing at all, allow me to point out a recent L.A. Times story, which mentions this year’s Oscar race. The Academy's board of governors actually had to vote to decide if Episode II would be eligible for Oscar consideration. In the end, they voted yes — arguing that their charter covers all motion pictures with theatrical distribution, without real regard to the production technology — but I’m curious to see what happens three years down the road.

As a digital videographer, I’m absolutely in favor of the new technology. I’ll never be as much a film expert as independent filmmaker Vincent Pereira (the phenomenally talented and largely undiscovered director of A Better Place), but I’d like to think I can produce a quality product if given the right tools. So anything that works to allow me that opportunity is certainly welcome. But it strikes me that the better alternative would be to try and narrow that all-consuming rift, to cease to associate artistic merit exclusively with the method of production.

Stop trying to call it digital film, George, and start working to have digital video recognized as the viable creative medium that it can be.

A Monkey — or At Least a Pygmy Marmoset — On My Back

I’ve got a confession to make. I’ve been combating an addiction for some years now; every time I think I’ve taken another step toward licking it, I’m reminded that I’m in just as deep as I ever was. Getting clean is a constant goal, though I frequently despair of ever achieving it. No matter how much I try, I keep coming back to...

... television.

One of my all-time favorite Calvin and Hobbes strips had Calvin questioning Marx’s “Religion is the opiate of the masses” statement, to which the television surreptitiously responded that Marx hadn’t seen anything yet. (May Bill Watterson live forever for his principled stand against commercialization, but that’s a topic for another day.)

Televisions — the devices — are valuable additions to the home, if for no other reason than they allow us to watch motion pictures (in original theatrical aspect ratio, naturally). Television — the medium — also serves a worthy purpose, providing news, education, and other information, keeping us connected to the world around us. But so much of it fulfills exactly the role Watterson predicted.

I’m not one who subscribes to the notion that the world is deteriorating around us, generation by generation — at least not in aggregate. Many things are perhaps worse than in times past, but many have improved commensurately. The same can be said of television: For every American Idol there’s a Sopranos, for every Fear Factor an ER, every Anna Nicole Show a Boomtown. The advent of cable and satellite television has added to both ends of this spectrum, while public television still raises the overall content quality bar (though I’ll never forgive them for unleashing Barney on an unsuspecting public). But regardless of the production value, the episodic nature of most television programming lends itself to numbed complacence. Even the most obvious offender, the sitcom, can be entertaining (Seinfeld, to wit) while inducing cultural narcosis.

In reality, of course, film produces garbage as worthless as television (though perhaps not in such prolific quantities). But (again, in aggregate) it’s easy to repeat the old maxim that television is strictly commercial, while film is — at least to some degree — art.

In the end, I’m sure I’ll keep watching television, and loathing myself just a little bit for doing so. Now, time to get my Survivor picks in.

Political Triple Play

As a rule, I try to stay away from political commentary, particularly when my audience is largely unknown (I’m an expert at preaching to the choir). That, and living in the D.C. area, one is bombarded with the misconception that our entire mind-set revolves around politics. Yesterday, however, we had a news trifecta that warrants at least passing note.

First was a series of antiwar demonstrations held here in Washington (along with others around the country), commemorating International Human Rights Day. Second was the capture by the Spanish military of a North Korean ship carrying Scud missile parts to Yemen. And third was the formal announcement of the Bush administration’s new “preemptive strike” policy toward rogue nations threatening the United States.

Unlike Atlantic Editor-at-Large Michael Kelly — who last year condemned pacifists as “objectively pro-terrorist” in a Washington Post op-ed column — I believe that the proliferation of dissenting opinion is not only desirable, but necessary in a free society (funny thing, that First Amendment). An unusual things about these particular demonstrations was that they comprised several groups of widely disparate origin, rather than a single, organizing sponsor. At the risk of exposing my unending hypocrisy, I’m going to make a sweeping generalization anyway: The underlying message was peace for peace’s sake. While that’s certainly a noble goal, I think it undermines what could be a more effective argument — peace in this particular case.

I don’t for a second believe that this war has anything whatsoever to do with stopping Saddam Hussein’s weapons program. Oh, that’s the excuse, and on one level, action can certainly be justified — Iraq has repeatedly flaunted the UN Security Council’s resolutions. But really, nothing’s changed recently to warrant immediate action. It seems clear that the administration, being unable to capture or kill Osama bin Laden (despite administration espousals to the contrary, this antiterrorist “war” is inextricably tied to that goal in the public mind), needs a new target.

The second news event seems to drive this point home even more: A near-nuclear power supplying arms to a nation far more closely tied to the terrorist threat, in fact if not officially. I’ve no doubt the spin will make this event out to be further evidence of the need for action against Iraq, despite the lack of real connection between the two. Such action against Saddam Hussein may in fact be necessary, and the United States may be the only nation that can take it (“With great power must come great responsibility,” as Stan Lee put it). But it’d be nice if just once the powers that be could be honest about their motivations.

The third event — rumblings of which we’ve heard about for some time now — is the real unknown in all of this. In case you hadn’t guessed by now, I tend to oppose just about everything this administration does. But here I take a step back and let better debaters take over. Yes, this sets an extraordinarily dangerous precedent worldwide — any nation-state (or any independent organization, for that matter) could use this policy as moral justification for attacking not only the United States, but any other target it quarreled with, without real provocation. But this gets back to my original point: Honesty. In reality, if we faced an imminent threat, we would do whatever was necessary to eliminate that threat. Normally, that wouldn’t extend to large-scale (even potentially nuclear) attack, but if that were required, I don’t think we’d shrink away from the possibility. Add to that the absolute belief among some of our enemies that — by divine will — they would be able to completely cripple the American response, and after-the-fact retaliation is no longer a deterrent. It’s damned ugly, and it’s no doubt destabilizing on a global scale; I sure as hell don’t “trust” the current administration to make that decision correctly. But at least they’re being honest about the situation and what they may have to do about it.

We’re in the middle of another ice storm in this town. In more ways than one.

The End Justifies... No, Wait, the Means Justify... Hang on a Minute...

I have this problem finishing things. Oh, I’m perfectly capable of getting my work done. In fact, I can handle anything that’s got a real deadline. It’s those projects that are a little more... nebulous that tend to get pushed aside.

I’ve found that this manifests itself in two distinct fashions. On one hand there are the projects that end up in perpetual limbo, the books that remain half-read, the home repairs that continually get added to the “to do” list. And on the other, those that could be called finished at any given point, but I just can’t help altering ad infinitum.

For the most part, I’m able to keep the things in the former set, if not top-of-mind, then at least somewhere in the shallow end. Periodically, one of them will bubble up to the surface, and I’ll get a little farther. We’ll shoot a little more video, I’ll get through a few more chapters, I’ll break out the toolkit. One of them will get finished — only to be replaced by four more. Maybe a part of it’s procrastination, but I think it’s more a matter of prioritizing; these things are all important, but, on a day-to-day basis, not as important as the dozens of other things that crop up.

As for the latter set, I’m sure an armchair psychologist could have a field day with my motivations. It’s easy to make fun of George Lucas or Steven Spielberg for continually adjusting their films years after the fact, but a part of me sees where they’re coming from. Hell, I’ve edited just about every post I’ve made here after the fact — spelling errors, hyperlinks, minor wording adjustments. In the end, I can never let something go if I’m the least bit convinced that I can make it better.

I guess that’s the nice thing about something like this weblog. There is no end; it’s all about the process.

Ah, that ending sucks. I’ll stick something better in later.

Not Your Usual “Soundtrack”

Seems like I’ve always loved movie music. No doubt most of this is an extension of my love for movies — it’s often possible to recapture much of a film’s emotional impact just by listening to the soundtrack. Sometimes that music is inextricably linked to its cinematic parent; I find it tough to hear John Williams without picturing the original film. Other times, it stands alone, independent of the original purpose (a lot of Danny Elfman’s work comes to mind).

Styles and genres vary, but there are certain consistencies in film scores. They frequently vary between the understated (intended to lie largely unnoticed beneath dialogue) and the bordering-on-overblown. I’ve found that most people have limited understanding of what makes for good scoring; I’m often asked (as a producer/editor) to use a particular piece to score a video, a request I usually reject. Most music that works by itself is too powerful, too distracting, to run underneath other content.

In any case, if you do like a particular score, you can usually find it eventually — in far smaller quantities than the “Music From and Inspired By” pop disc.

Lately, I’ve become intrigued by another, more obscure type of film music: movie trailer music.

Usually, trailers (i.e., movie commercials, called “trailers” because they used to follow rather than precede the theatrical feature) will just recycle selections from another movie. Trying to market RoboCop? Pull some music from The Terminator. The Bourne Identity? Try Run Lola Run. The Scorpion King? Conan the Barbarian. Batman Returns? How about... Batman (okay, sequels are pretty much no-brainers). Editing a decent trailer is challenging enough, but trying to find music that not only fulfills the general score requirements but is compact enough to start and finish within that two-minute window is pretty tough. So when the movie marketers do find something, they tend to use it repeatedly.

That’s what set me off on my little quest: I began noticing that a particular piece of music was used over and over again in a number of trailers. Swing Kids. A Few Good Men. Instinct. Thirteen Days. And a slew of others. A little research revealed the original source: “Fire in a Brooklyn Theatre,” from Randy Edelman’s Come See the Paradise soundtrack. It’s a short little piece — really just progressive variations on a few notes — but the sense of tension builds consistently throughout. Perfect for selling that new dramatic picture (whatever the picture may be).

Some time later, a second piece caught my ear. I heard it originally in the Judge Dredd trailer (a trailer which far surpassed the quality of the final picture), and then later in Lost in Space (ditto), among others. This one proved a little harder to track down; it turns out that Jerry Goldsmith was originally contracted to score Dredd, and wrote an original piece for the trailer. Unfortunately, he later dropped out of the project, and Alan Silvestri took over. The trailer track would have disappeared into oblivion if it weren’t just so good to sell that new action movie (again, regardless of the particular movie in question).

Enter John Beal. Beal (for the most part) specializes in one particular type of composition: He copies the style of existing soundtracks, and recreates them in trailer form. Let’s say you’ve got a new Tim Burton film coming out (or, more likely, something the marketers think is “Burton-esque”). Since Danny Elfman does all of Burton’s films, you’d like to use something of his, but none of his existing pieces really fit the trailer you’ve cut together. So John Beal comes along and does “original” music for your trailer that (supposedly) sounds like it came right off of Danny Elfman’s (Macintosh) keyboard. Beal released a two-disc set a few years back entitled Coming Soon! The John Beal Trailer Project, on which he included the aforementioned Judge Dredd trailer theme.

My latest acquisition is from a pair of brothers who go by the pseudonymous appellation E.S. Posthumus. They’ve got a CD entitled Unearthed (only available via their website) which, though it’s not actually movie music, certainly sounds as though it could be. Its most recognizable track, “Pompeii,” achieved a small measure of fame in the first Spider-Man trailer; other tracks have started cropping up as well (including the latest Daredevil ad), and I’ve no doubt we’ll continue to hear more in the months (and years) to come.

If movie music has a small cult following, then trailer music is really heading toward the obscure. I’m certainly not qualified to argue the artistic merits of the music in question, but I have to admit it’s been kind of fun researching this stuff.

So for the moment, I think I’ll keep listening.

Unorthodox Tradition

The holiday season is officially upon us. Well, me anyway — I have no control over the rest of you (yet...). The girls and I went out and picked up our Christmas tree this weekend. A lot of folks (my parents included, before this year) make this a big affair, going out to a Christmas tree farm, spending time looking through the available options, picking out the perfect tree... not us. We prefer the Domino’s Pizza approach — 30 minutes or less.

For the past few years, we’ve gone down to this little church in Springfield, taken a quick run through the lot, picked up the tree, and gotten out of there. We’ve got no particular connection or attachment to this church; it’s just convenient, the help is friendly and efficient, they’ve got a little playground for the girls to amuse themselves on, there’s a decent tree selection, and they’re competitively priced. And hey, if the church uses the money to do something positive for the community, so much the better.

Now, I’ve got nothing against seasonal sentimentality. If you enjoy the tree-selection process, if that’s what gives you joy, great. Knock yourself out. As for me, though, anything that requires me to be out in the cold any longer than necessary has to have a pretty big return on investment (see my last entry, for example). Even my folks, the quintessential tree-hunters, have gone artificial this year; it looks nice to me (although my oldest daughter says it doesn’t feel real).

We’ll see if we end up going that route down the road. But for now, the 30-minute guarantee seems to be working.

Walking In A Winter Wonderland

Well whaddaya know? The weather forecasters actually got it right this time. What looks like six inches overnight, and as I write this, it’s still coming down. I’m taking a momentary break from sidewalk-clearing, but I’ve no doubt that I’ll have to get back out before too long and do it all again. Thankfully, my wife Pam took a fairly extensive turn at shoveling as well, but that’s not what’s most exciting about today.

That would be the girls, all bundled up and romping around in the blanket of white. Pam contends that snow days rank third among kids’ favorite days — just behind Christmas and Halloween — and after watching the two of them this morning, I’m inclined to agree. My oldest was fascinated by her new kitten’s surprised reaction, while simultaneously worrying that, being all white, she’d get lost amidst the drifts (she needn’t have concerned herself — after an initial foray, little Lily was all too happy to remain indoors).

The downside to all of this is missing work. Now before you write me off as some kind of workaholic nut job, I’m more than happy to have the time with the family (my boss actually left me a message asking me to do so). But the nature of success (at least for me) is that you end up with more and more work: At the moment, I’ve got two videos to edit, two to revise, one to shoot tomorrow, and a couple more on the back burner.

Well, I’ll try to take advantage of this forced respite to get in a little family time before cracking down. But first it’s back to shoveling.

A Little Healthy Holiday Debate

Washington is abuzz with the prospect of several inches of snow. The entire city braces for...

No, that’s too damn easy. The local radio and television personalities are already decrying this city’s overreaction to a mere touch of snow. I grew up in places like Massachusetts, Nebraska, New York... hell, I lived in North Dakota for a couple of years. Yeah, I know we’re overreacting in D.C. But I think it’s way past time we just realized that fact and moved on. It’s not much of a source of amusement anymore.

Instead, I think I’ll write about a little argument my wife and I had this past weekend. We were discussing my all-time favorite Christmas movie, the kind that makes me well up with emotion, really feeling the true meaning of the holiday.

Naturally, I’m talking about John McTiernan’s Die Hard.

Bizarrely, my wife’s contention is that Die Hard is not a real Christmas movie.

Now, there are any number of things we can agree on regarding this film. It was certainly the breakthrough role for Bruce Willis, a successful television actor who had, to date, been remarkably unsuccessful in transitioning to the big screen. It was a notable in its excellent casting of supporting actors, including Hart Bochner, Bonnie Bedelia, Reginald VelJohnson, and Alexander Godunov. It solidified the cinematographic style of Jan de Bont, who became a competent (if not particularly remarkable) director in his own right. It established the filmmaking career of John McTiernan, best known previously as the director of just another Schwarzenegger vehicle (the underrated Predator, which also introduced to film the current governor of Minnesota). It reinvigorated the action genre, establishing the everyman hero as opposed to the superhuman one. And it introduced mainstream audiences to one of the most charismatic and versatile actors of our time, Alan Rickman.

Of course, the reason my wife and I can agree on these points is that she doesn’t give a rat’s ass (she’s tolerant of my obesssions, but by no means overindulgent). But at the end of the day, she’s damn sure that Die Hard ain’t a Christmas movie.

Now, I could present a well-thought-out point/counterpoint argument detailing all of the intricacies of the debate. But then I can guarantee you that Inkblots wouldn’t want to run my Die Hard critique, which would probably be largely a rehash of those ramblings (“Hey, Geoff, I got a great idea for another review...”). More importantly, though... I don’t have to.

’Cause my wife ain’t here right now. And until she starts her own ’blog, I stand unopposed. The whole thing seems kind of one-sided, now that I think about it.

Die Hard takes place on Christmas Eve. There’s lots of Christmas music (don’t tell my wife, but I had them play “Ode to Joy” at our wedding largely as a result of this movie). There’s the whole marital reconciliation thing going on. And it’s just a kick-ass feel-good flick.

So its status remains secure as my favorite Christmas movie. Followed shortly thereafter by Lethal Weapon and On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

Around the Writer’s Block

Odd Todd was certainly right when he noted that screenplay writing is tough. For a moviemaker (or cinéaste, as I’ve taken to calling myself), it would seem that this skill would be a pretty basic requirement, but that argument doesn’t seem to make inspiration come any faster.

I wrote my first (and, to date, only) feature-length screenplay (Holding Pattern, né Quartered) for the original Project Greenlight contest, and I have yet to completely “finish” it. Oh, I submitted it to the original contest (and got knocked out in the first round), as well as the second (still getting knocked out early, but at least with a little more positive coverage), but I’ve never been able to sit back and move past it. It always seems that with just a little more tweaking, it’d be just right. So far, I’ve resisted the urge to alter it since the last contest, but that doesn’t mean I’ve moved on to anything else. I’ve even toyed with the idea of writing short stories featuring some of the characters in the screenplay; I tell myself that it’ll help flesh out their personalities, but I suspect that it’s truly just a way of hanging on just a bit longer (naturally, were one of these stories to actually help with the characters, that would necessitate another rewrite of the larger piece, and I’d be back where I started).

I did write a short-subject screenplay adaptation of a friend’s original story (with the intention of our actually producing the movie), but beyond an initial stab, it’s remained in limbo. I’d like to revisit that as well, but it doesn’t induce the same feeling of attachment as my own piece — it holds far less of my emotional content, being both (a) short and (b) somebody else’s idea (I’m not planning to direct the movie in any case).

I’m hopeful that these ramblings will allow me to develop some idea of where to go next. Or where not to go. Or at least allow me to go somewhere in the first place.

Bill Coughlan, Futurist

I had a rather unusual dream last night. I was placed into suspended animation for 50 years (the details of both plot and scientific plausibility frequently being absent in my dreams) and awoke into a different world. What made it unusual, however, was that it was not nearly as unfamiliar as I might previously have imagined. Sure, the details were altered, the sitcom stars of today had aged notably (my wife, of course, looked exactly as she had before my slumber), but all in all, the world seemed perfectly navigable.

All right, some details were conveniently omitted — I appeared to suffer no remorse at having missed my daughters’ childhood, for example — but overall, it started me thinking: Just how “alien” will the world of tomorrow be? We hear constant reminders of how much the world is changing, and how that rate of change is increasing exponentially (the “Jumping Jesus” phenomenon, as humorously articulated by guerilla ontologist Robert Anton Wilson). But as to the moderately technically savvy among us (a community to which I assume most readers here belong), just how lost would we truly be?

Much is made of the inability of seniors, for example, to handle a more technological world. But how much of that is our natural inability to adapt to change as we get older and our brains become more “hard-wired”? Would not those who can adapt at the normal rate similarly be able to adapt to a more dramatic shift? In fact, perhaps I spoke too soon in limiting my focus to the technically savvy. Certainly the more technology-averse among us would suffer the less — the denizens of Deliverance can’t handle today’s technology as it is; what would have changed for them? And those between the extremes require varying degrees of assistance with certain aspects of technology — are we to assume that those avenues will have disappeared?

Of course, this is all oversimplification. And naturally, larger issues could radically alter my hypothesis. Should the world evolve into either 1984 or Blade Runner, then basic survival becomes a more grueling task. And in any case, such a transition wouldn’t be without extraordinary difficulty (owing 50 years of back taxes, not having current identification, and so on). But it’s certainly worth challenging the all-too-common assumptions we hear on a daily basis.

And They’re Off!

All right, it’s way past time for me to put my money where my mouth is.

I’ve been squawking about writing more, creating more, doing more, and between work and family, the creative process just seems too easy to put off until tomorrow. And while I’m no closer to actually solving that little problem in its entirety, I can at least take this initial step. And who knows, if I manage to keep it up (and write material at least moderately approaching respectability), maybe I’ll get picked up by someplace like Inkblots.

We’ll see.

In any case, my first weblog is hereby inaugurated. Wish me luck.