Well, I couldn’t help myself. After my post yesterday, I made up my own Fake Criterion covers for three of my favorite films.

Smiley Face

Pootie Tang

Let’s go to Prison

I’ve always greatly enjoyed the stark artistry that Criterion collection covers offer. I could go on about positive and negative space, typography and all that jazz, but frankly they just look cool.

Here are some real Criterion covers.

8 1/2

M

Now, with that in mind, check out Fake Criterions. Somehow I missed the train on this one, but lucky for me I jumped on the last car. Here are some of my favorites.

UHF

Robocop 2
 

Annie Hall
 

Pineapple Express

Harold and Kumar go to White Castle

Yeah, chew on that!

(MERREL NOTE:  I had a wonderful time speaking with Chris Newman. His candor and intensity for filmmaking was refreshing. This article originally appeared in the most recent issue of Sound & Picture Magazine)

Award Winning Life Lessons with Chris Newman

There are a handful of sound mixers in feature films whose work has ascended to the highest echelon of the industry. These names, even known to the average filmgoer, represent a small and storied pool. One member of this exclusive pool is Chris Newman, a three time Academy Award winning (eight nominations) sound mixer. You’d have to be living under a rock not to have seen one of the films he’s worked on. From The Godfather, Amadeus, The Exorcist, to Fame and The English Patient, Newman has seen 50 years of sound mixing and experienced the sea change of Hollywood first hand in the process. He sat down with me to chat about his life, his career, his teaching and his reflections on the state of filmmaking.

A Career in Sound

Mixing and Production
Newman’s career is anything but typical. At the age of sixteen, he attended M.I.T. “It was overwhelming for me, intellectually, socially, in every way. It was a mistake to go at such a tender age, but I did,”  he said. I couldn’t cut it. I was gone in a year and a half. I was selling soft ice cream in Times Square.” By the time Newman was twenty, he crash landed into the bustle of New York City. Newman boldly announced to the world “I am a sound mixer!”

In the 1960’s, Newman began work on documentaries using his trusty Nagra recorder; “The first Nagra I ever had was in 1961, and when I got it, no one knew how to use it. The employer didn’t know how to use it so we had to figure it out together.” Luckily, by the time Newman landed his first feature, Haskell Wexler’s critical hit Medium Cool, his love for the Nagra was in full swing.

An old school love, the analog Nagra can be a hard thing to shake. Newman loved his Nagra; “The thing I miss about those kinds of recorders is the simplicity of using them. Working on the set is an almost bizarre experience where you are constantly bombarded with decisions, decision making and tension, your tension other people’s tension.” Keeping a simple recorder, he said, makes “life easier.”

As technology progressed in sound mixing and recorders, Newman eventually transitioned to hard drive based digital recorders. The first movie he solely used hard drive recording was Jonathan Demme’s remake of The Manchurian Candidate (2004). “I had problems, problems in the field. But we muddled our way through, and it made things a lot easier for the editors. Tthat was important. Prior to that, all we used was the Nagra D.”

When I asked Newman if there was a change in style of work since he began his career, he paused for a long moment; “Look, all this business about making movies, working on movies, all of it boils down to problem solving. We are constantly problem solving. One of the big differences I notice between movie making now and earlier on is that we had a hell of a lot more fun back then!”

A Set Life
Newman was surprisingly candid, “All I did was make mistakes, get better, make mistakes, get better.” He had a mentor, Jack Jacobsen, known for his sound work on Apocalypse Now and Kramer vs. Kramer. Jacobsen would call from time to time and tell him, “Chris, nice job.” But something Jacobsen said has stuck with Newman all these years later, “Look, all of film recording is about one thing. Signal to noise. It’s always about signal to noise.” Indeed, Newman encourages, “Question how much pull does the microphone have. How much of what you want can you get and how much of what you don’t want, can you eliminate.”

Newman has encountered his fair share of problems with sound on set. That is almost inevitable for all crews, and for him, the importance was always in how one is able to address and troubleshoot problems on set effectively and quickly. On his last film, What Happens in Vegas, he had problems finding enough channels for the wireless radio mics. Unbeknownst to him until production day, they were close to a Navy Yard. Almost all 16 channels were swamped. “I don’t know what happened, but it was probably God telling me time to stop working,” Newman laughs.

I wondered out loud if there was a film that Newman felt he had missed out on. “Plenty, but that’s no one’s business but my own. I turned down a movie that became Taxi Driver to do All the President’s Men and at that time there was no reciprocity between East Coast and West Coast unions. Ultimately, I was not able to do All the President’s Men. So, I lost both movies within a very short period of time. I tried my best not to have a nervous break down!”

Since Newman, couldn’t do All the President’s Men, he recommended Jim Webb. Webb asked if there was anything he could do for him. Newman simply said, “When you win the Oscar, you can thank me.” Webb did win the Oscar, but forgot to thank him. Humbled about it now, Newman reflects “I didn’t talk to him for 10 years. When I finally confronted him, he said, “I was so overwhelmed, I forgot. I apologize.”

Newman ultimately recommended Les Lazarowitz for Taxi Driver. “He did an amazing job and an even better job on Raging Bull. That was worth a lot to me because he was my second boom operator. I was very happy for him.”

Appreciation of his sound crew is important. “Sound mixers become famous because their boom operators were great,” Newman explains. “It’s not all the sound mixer. It’s a bunch of people… When you find great boom operators like Gregg Harris, Marc Jon-Sullivan, Dennis Maitland II, Ken Weston, Pat Suraci and David Sutton, you simply let them do their job.”

FULL DISCLOSURE: In my original interview transcription and conversation with Mr. Newman he stated 2 names; Greg Harris and Marc Jon-Sullivan. The additional names were added to the articles publication after my submission. I must fully disclose that I have not done additional reporting on this article. The paragraph as submitted is below:

“Appreciation of his other crew members is not without merit. “Sound mixers become famous because their boom operators were great.” Newman explains “It’s not all the sound mixer. It’s a bunch of people.” He admits, “I am a control person, I still am. When one finds a great boom operator like a Greg Harris or Marc Jon-Sullivan or some of the other great boom operators I’ve had. (note: over a half a dozen people.) One let’s them do their job, and one doesn’t second guess them, because it serves no purpose.”

School’s in Session
Now an instructor at the School of Visual Arts in New York City, Newman’s hard learned lessons on set are applied to his teaching syllabus.

In some form or another, Newman has taught throughout his career, starting as early as the 1970’s. At SVA, Newman would bring students to the set, if he was working a job. “When we were working with Sidney Lumet on 100 Centre St., a series that he treated like live TV from the 50’s, Lumet was very generous. He’d let students sit with him when he called shots.”

Dealing with students has its challenges. A much more technically oriented generation has emerged, yet they are sometimes more insular in their risk taking. Newman reflects on this, “The whole idea of bringing discipline to kids 18-22 years old is very elusive. Try to get them to show up to set on-time.” And not just for sound consideration, teaching students how to put their boots down on the battlefield requires a total understanding of the production process, working with people, teaching them how to work on set, work in teams, how to shoot, how to take sound on the set, how to cut and criticize.”

There are many clichés about the sound mixing profession. Jack Solomon once said, “We’re technicians not magicians.” Newman is quick to share wisdom with his pupils. “I tell them, always be thinking. Always be conceptualizing. Trust no one myself included. Assume nothing. Double check the equipment endlessly. Always have fresh batteries as well as fresh underwear.”

Students in Newman’s courses are directed to be meticulous and to check everything again and again. Because in his eyes, something will always go wrong no matter how careful or prepared you are. One must always be thinking about how to deal. “I won’t enable my students. Meaning, I will not show them how to do things very often. I expect them to kind of blunder through things as I did.”

The Ultimate Reflection
As my candid interview with Newman came to a close, I asked him to reflect on his accomplishments, and true to form, he didn’t miss a beat. “I have been extraordinarily lucky and been in the right place at the right time over and over again. I had a lot of discipline. I tried as I got older to be more reasonable, just a little.” He paused one last time, “One learns that doing sound is not about the sound man. It takes a sound man a long time to learn that.”

Wow! The non-stop gravy train that is the LA Comedy Shorts Film Festival continued yesterday with some great food, conversation, and networking. I spend lots of time at various conventions, festivals, and of course host Screenwriter Karaoke, so it’s always rewarding when  an event is well orchestrated. (Translation: thanks for having your shit together LA Comedy Shorts!)

Favorites of Saturday Night

Isabel Fay & Lee York’s With or Without U2 – A musical short, it appears to be about a man pining for his lost love. But it turns out as something else entirely. The short was good, but what elevated them above others on Saturday night was the filmmakers’ industriousness outside of the film.

When Isabel Fay began the short, she  the neglected to consider the rights of the U2 song they used. So, though they got into festival, the sound track was not licensed. What would any self respecting, industrious filmmaker do in such a predicament? Well, get the Silver Lake Chorus to perform the song live, acapella in the theatre. It was awesome!

It reminds me that filmmakers often work best when presented specific limitations – they came up with an absolutely inspiring solution that felt just the right bit of funny, old-timey, and performance art. Sadly, given the licensing issues around the short, the filmmakers shared With or Without U2 had its one and only public outing last night.

The other two favorites of the night were also foreign outings; Suiker a story accidental death and sugar and Appy Ever After the delightfully funny romp where a boyfriend uses a green-screen app on his iPhone, so he can drink with his buddies at the pub.

Rooftop Partay!

After the screenings it was onto the gorgeous Japanese Garden space at the Kyoto Grand Hotel.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s Day 4 wrap up and don’t forget to read about the first 2 days of the festival here and here!

The feel-good vibe here at the LA Comedy Shorts Film Festival keeps on growing. Friday, day two, was awesome! Sadly, I missed the panels in the morning, but was able to catch the evening screenings the Male Pattern Badness block (featuring. Atom.com).

It’s not too late to see what else is going on for the rest of this weekend! Check out the festival schedule.

DAY 2 Favorites:

The FUTURE-ER -  a great, lo-fi, dark, complicated time-travel dick joke from Utah filmmaker P.M. Baird. The short, while I’d say maybe 3 minutes too long, is an excellent lo-fi exploration. It looks great, has the right about of sci-fi ambiance and humor and I love the black and white aesthetic. At the Q&A an audience member asked what was the most difficult part of making the film, Baird’s response: “Convincing my mother to buy me the camera.” Win.

The FUTURE-ER from P.M. Baird on Vimeo.

Mutumbo Golberg – a brisk, faux reality comedy series, featuring grown-ass-black-man Anthony Anderson as a young adopted Jewish boy living in the home of a clueless suburban couple.  The series is absurd with is juxtaposition of race and culture, Jerry Minor plays a OB / GYN roped into pretending he’s an African tribesman on behalf of “Mutumbo”, while Thomas Middleditch’s character (whitey mc-jew town!) waxes poetic about the planes of Tanzania. When “Mutumba” horns on in on Mutumbo’s free living arrangement, Mutumbo puts his foot down when she tries to rip them off. After all their his parents!

Then it was onto the magic school bus, and a short ride over to ESPN ZONE at L.A. Live for the BIG ASS KIDS PARTY! Woo! We got our drink on and played many a free arcade game. It was like 1988 up in this bitch!

Watch out folks, I can stomp my feet in a mechanical motion to the beat of music for the sake of entertainment. Or @CoverMyScript said it better, I’m “goosestepping my way to dance perfection.”

Stay tuned for LA Comedy Shorts Film Festival 2011: Day 3! And be sure to check out LA Comedy Shorts Film Festival 2011: Day 1

It’s exciting to be a sponsor of the LA Comedy Shorts Film Festival, the vibe here in downtown Los Angeles is awesome. Over the next couple of days, me (@UncompletedWork) and Xandy (@CoverMyScript) will be tweeting and blogging talking about our experiences and all that fun jazz.

Here is the lovely entrance way of the Kyoto Grand Hotel. On Saturday night LA Comedy Shorts roof top party will be here.

Then it’s off to the Downtown Independent Theatre, to pick up our badges. And slippers. Xandy opted for the pink ones. Perfect fit!

Down at the red carpet, we tried out new battle poses. Watch out!

Hey! It’s a little CoverMyScript.com Signage. Nice!

Then it was into the packed theatre for the opening night screenings!

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World was unleashed last weekend. The $60 million, Edgar Wright directed video game romp is a strange foray into nostalgia, contemporary manga style fiction and stylistic filmmaking, so, when I went to see Pilgrim at the Arclight opening night, I had only an expectation: the film would be fun. Why then, did this collision of my beloved interests: manga, anime and video games feel slightly off mark?

It’s weird to see the very things I cherished in my youth being synthesized into a major studio releases. I was born in 1980′s and now my generation is now a prime target for 80′s nostalgia. From “pre-worn” graphic t-shirts to the resurgence of 2D side-scrolling platform games and 80′s action and ski flicks, us 20-something guys (and gals!) are getting it from every side.

Pilgrim shines with every  lovingly hand-crafted sound effect and video game call-out. It’s as though Edgar Wright kidnapped video game designers Shigeru Miyamoto and Hironobu Sakaguchi and forced them to work in a bunker deep under Los Angeles for Xbox Live points. Elements of every genre are present, just take a look at “Every Video Game Reference in Scott Pilgrim Vs The World” Pilgrim takes all my fun quirky, formerly niche interests and synthesizes them, and surprisingly for me, the sum is not as great as its parts.

Story with Character?

Scott Pilgrim Vs The World, adapted from an award-winning comic by Bryan Lee O’Malley, takes some tenants of video gaming to heart. But perhaps not the right ones. In seeking to emulate a video game style, many of the characters seemed flat, literally one-note “non-player characters” (NPC’s) in a light-on-story fighting game. It felt more like I had been playing an hour or 2 of Tekken than watching a proper story.

What happens between the awesome over-the-top fighting? Sadly, it’s where things really fall apart. Many geeky movie goers may be willing to forgo the flicks apparent lack of motivation or depth (more on that in a second.) For what it’s worth, this is a beat-em-up style movie, it has a story as deep and transparent as beat-em-up games like Streets of Rage II.

In fighting games, the story serves the gameplay, it (often clumsily) sets up the next chance encounter and then you fight!  That’s a tough trick to pull off seven times in a 112 minute feature. But as exciting as each battle was, the fun was ephemeral, the enjoyment fleeting. Like a ride at a theme park, we’re “on rails” until it’s over.

The love story between Scott Pilgrim and Romona Flowers runs on auto pilot. Love stories have to be authentic, to keep me invested, even in silly or fun movies. The “on-to-the-next-one” mentality of Scott, where his friends and loved ones are concerned, makes it difficult to reconcile his apparent infatuation with Romona. The Romona character never does anything worthy of being fought for. Yeah she’s cute, aloof, totally-hip but really she’s kind of a dick. And as a result, I never once cheered for Romona and Scott to be together.

It’s disappointing to see the story machinations so clearly in play. Can you recall the names of seven of the evil exes? How about their back story or motivation? I wasn’t looking for gold, but I just don’t know enough about any character to truly care about why they needed to be vanquished. This coupled with the anemic relationship between Scott and Romona left so much to be desired.

Visual / Sound

Edgar Wright has always been good with the visual details (check out my Shaun of the Dead breakdown) and he mixes it up with a clever visual vocabulary. I was initially drawn to the energy and visual execution of Pilgrim. Despite this, it’s hard for me to peg why this familiar synthesis isn’t a home run.

In a recent Popular Mechanics article, VFX Supervisor Frazer Churchill explains how they distilled the video game juice:

The film is informed by video-game style, but it’s not like we looked at games and thought, ‘We’ve got to put that in there,” – Frazer Churchill

And there’s plenty of video game mythos and fanboy gems to go around. Observant listeners may perk up when they hear the theme for Nintendo’s Zelda, ring chimes from Sonic the Hedgehog,  the explosion of coins out of a defeated enemy, or literally the hundreds of other small handcrafted audio cues that, no doubt, took time to design and execute.

The onomatopoeic manga-style typography adds some whimsy. By the second hour, I’ve seen as many “action words” as I’m willing to to bear. And perhaps that’s part of the problem. Pilgrim is filled with visual flourishes that are delightful, in small doses.  If Pilgrim was 15 minute YouTube video it would likely have 80 million views. There are constant split screens, over-layed text, power-ups, all with fast paced quick cuts interspersed with cheeky visual jokes. A.D.D. theatre at its best. But how do you do long-form A.D.D.theatre?

Insert Coin to Continue

I’d put the performances in Scott Pilgrim Vs The World into the same category as movies like Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children or Resident Evil: Degeneration. With goofy delivery of lines like “I’m a little bi-furious!” the movie misfires with a quirky, strange Japanese-esque smile.

Pilgrim’s strength is with style and flash. Its depth will be a matter of much debate. Still, I like the universe in which Scott Pilgrim lives. In fact, I look forward to the Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World video game. The nostalgia crowd is already eating it up. And why not? After all, as I left the movie theater I thought to myself, “I wish I could have played that game instead of watching it.”

Unlike novels, a script has implications far beyond the imagination of the reader. It is the document blue-print for an ultimately collaborative endeavor. In order to be an effective screenwriter, you need to be hyper aware of the production process and post-production process. I say aware, since you don’t have to do those tasks, you just need to know what is required of someone who does.

A couple of months ago at Screenwriter Karaoke, I was chatting with a writer about script dialogue. He was insistent that “real authentic dialogue is exactly like conversation.”  I responded that dialogue wasn’t actual conversation, but only gave the impression of conversation for the the sake of story. It is condensed and streamlined. After all, not everything we say in real life is interesting or even poignant. As we shared the exchange about a what dialogue needed to be,  he pulled the “well where did you learn how to write?” line. He’d gone to USC, was extolling the virtues of McKee or someone.  I simply said: “post-production.”

Pull the needle from the record! What, does the (mostly) solitary act of writing have to do with, say, cutting together a film? Quite a bit actually. Time and time again, I read scripts by writers who are woefully unaware that production and post process even takes place. For example: I often see scenes begin awkwardly with somebody walking into the room, simply to begin small talk, when the meat of the scene is a 30 second dialogue exchange on the couch later, where Jimmy tells Jane he’s joined a Poison cover band to avenge the death of his gerbil “Mikey.”

In a quest to mimic actual conversation, writers actually create the kind of stilted and obvious dialogue that makes most people groan. Film editing taught me to get in late and get out quick. Through my work, I’d spent so much time editing other people’s (bad!) dialogue, I began to gain a sense of what “good” dialogue sounded like to me. Part of a film editor’s job is to further finesse the dialogue, cut it so it sounds and feels natural, while maintaining the essence of the scene.  In many ways, the last cut of a film is the final draft of the script, or as Oscar nominated Director/Actor Peter Riegert said last year at the Southampton Screenwriting Conference: “Your script isn’t finished until opening night.”

As an editor, I was reverse engineering how to write a good scene.  I am able to recognize good dialogue when I read it in a script because I can see the semblance and pacing of “real” conversation, without all the boring parts. I am able to write good funny visual jokes that pop at the right moment, because I have an idea of when to get in and get out.

I put a call out to several writing and screenwriting communities for some comments on how their editing backgrounds have impacted their ability to write:

Xiaoniu (via reddit)

… I think it’s all part of what makes my film sense together, so it might have subconsciously influenced my writing.

Merrill Barr (Another Merrel?!)

You learn the idea of pacing early… when you bring that knowledge to writing, you end up pacing it the way you would edit something… It’s also helped the way I write movie/tv reviews. Reviews are written like a trailer almost. Short(ish), sweet, and to the point. I hate reviews that spend 4 paragraphs on nothing important. Most of my reviews never pass 700 words. You really shouldn’t need more than that.

Millstone99 (via Reddit)

I’ve spent a lot of time watching editors cut my extraneous dialogue (and sometimes entire scenes). So, I’m always thinking about the editor as I write. Is he just going to cut this bit anyway? Why do I think it’s so important, anyway?

So, the next time you write excruciatingly slow small talk, or have characters inexplicably enter the room at the beginning of the scene, think about how that scene will play visually, and how there would  be no way in hell, it would ever make it out of the editing room.

I encourage every writer to learn how to cut. I learned to cut on an AVID, and in recent years have moved to Final Cut Pro. There are many options out there. But, once you get a sense of how to assemble a scene visually, you’ll notice your writing will become more succinct. And even if you never work professionally as an editor, it is a skill and knowledge set which in no way can do harm to your ability to tell a story effectively. Get out there and be aware. Your story will be thankful for it.

Leah Meyerhoff

Leah Meyerhoff’s film Twitch won the grand jury prize at Slamdance in  2007. Twitch went on to show at over 100 festivals and received many awards and was her first foray into the film festival circuit.

Leah has been gracious enough to share a bit of her insight on her short filmmaking and how it has prepared her for her first feature length film. So, let’s get into it!

Merrel Davis: What were the circumstances surrounding the production of Twitch? When you set out to make Twitch did you have a particular endgame in mind, like getting distribution or simply visibility?

Leah Meyerhoff: I made Twitch while I was studying at NYU. I’ve always thought it best when filmmakers “write what they know” so I began with a very personal story and then expanded out from there. My mother was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis shortly before I was born and was in a wheelchair by the time I was learning to walk. My parents divorced soon after and I was left having to take care of my mother while I was still a child. I have always been interested in making a film about this mother/daughter role reversal and the complexities and challenges of growing up with a parent who was sick. Thus Twitch tells the story of a teenage girl torn between caring for her disabled mother and escaping into the world of adolescence with her new boyfriend. After many unsatisfying auditions in NY, I decided to cast my real mother as the mother character in the film, which meant that I needed to return to SF for the shoot. Around the same time, I was approached by a reality show called “Film School” who wanted to document the process of making Twitch for a program on the Independent Film Channel (IFC). Although in retrospect, it probably wasn’t worth the headache, at the time it seemed like an easy way to finance the film as well as secure a certain level of visibility. Although I didn’t have a set distribution strategy in mind, I knew that I wanted as many people as possible to see the film and a showcase on IFC seemed like a good opportunity. We shot Twitch on Super16mm over the course of three days with a small crew comprised of many of my classmates from film school. Afterward I edited the film on an Avid and began sending it out to festivals. [Merrel Note: If you want to see part of Leah's process, there are many clips available on Youtube of the "Film School" series.]

MD: Much short film seeks to mimic the style and pacing of television. I increasingly see “all flash, no substance” short films that feel very impressed with themselves. After traveling the festival circuit promoting your various projects and music videos, do you see any emerging trends?

LM: I agree that many short filmmakers seem more interested in making calling cards than telling a story, but at the same time I think there is a counter movement towards smaller, more performance driven work. Some of my recent favorites are films like Man, Lady Margaret, Antonio’s Breakfast, In the Morning and The Execution of Solomon Harris which don’t try to cram an entire feature into a short, but rather focus on conveying the emotional truth of a particular moment in a character’s life.

MD: At the Boston Underground Film Festival, you talked a little bit about your original career aspirations, you said you wanted to be a marine biologist. How has that skillset come in handy as a filmmaker?

LM: Although I had different interests in high school, by the time I attended Brown University I ended up majoring in Art-Semiotics, which is basically a combination of film theory, art history, postmodern thought and film production. This skillset has informed my filmmaking by provoking me to consider the meaning behind each shot in addition to the visual effect. Similarly, I am able to watch films with a more critical eye and take away specific lessons which I then apply to my work. At the same time, I think too much theory can be dangerous because the emotional truth of the story has to come first.

MD: Can you talk a little bit about your first feature Unicorns? Has your introduction to the short film and festival world been helpful?

LM: Unicorns portrays an awkward teenage girl who escapes to a fantasy world when her first romantic relationship becomes increasingly abusive.  Through a combination of social and magical realism, I hope to create an intimate, honest, performance-driven film that allows us to get inside the character’s head as well as her heart. I began writing the script as my thesis at NYU and simultaneously started fundraising as I traveled the festival circuit with my short Twitch. In fact, I would not be in the place I am at now were it not for my prior experiences in the short film and festival worlds.

MD: How did the production of Unicorns come about?

LM: I met most of the people who are currently working on Unicorns through the festival circuit. Our executive producer Allison Anders had recently mentored a film I saw at the Sarasota Film Festival as well as directed several amazing films of her own. I met producers Alexis Fish and Heather Rae through the Sundance Film Festival (where Heather’s previous film Frozen River won the Grand Jury Prize). Our casting directors Judy Henderson, Meg Morman and Sunday Boling were recommended by other filmmakers I met on the festival circuit and I initially had seen many of the actors we ended up casting in festival films as well. Similarly, many of the other crew members we ended up hiring were originally introduced to us through the festival world.

MD: Do you feel filmmakers should embark on short film projects before attempting to begin their first feature? In what ways did it prepare you?

LM: I absolutely recommend that filmmakers make several shorts before they try to tackle a feature. Not only did making shorts allow me to hone my skills as a director (how to work with actors, where to place the camera, etc.) but traveling the film festival circuit prepared me for the reality of the distribution landscape. It makes much more sense to learn the system with a short, plus you are able to make amazing connections along the way!

MD: Now that you’ve navigated the waters of the festival circuit. Do you have any advice to new filmmakers looking to embark down this path? What would you do again and what would you do differently?

LM: My advice is to plan out a festival strategy at least a year in advance. Figure out where you want to premiere, how many submission fees you can afford, where you want to travel, which festivals treat filmmakers well and so on. Compile a master database of everywhere you want to submit and then tackle each group of submissions one month at a time. Although this requires extra effort in the beginning, by the end you will have saved yourself a lot of time and trouble. Though I was lucky with Twitch (premiering at Clermont-Ferrand and Slamdance) I wish I had spent more time making a strategy in advance because there definitely were deadlines I missed or festivals I was disqualified from because I had already premiered elsewhere. Also, I can’t emphasize enough not to neglect the smaller festivals. Not only are you more likely to win awards there, but regional festivals tend to treat filmmakers really well and you are more likely to reach an audience that otherwise would never be able to see your film.

MD: Leah, thank you so much for taking the time to share your knowledge with other filmmakers. Do you have any take aways, or thoughts?

LM: Independent filmmaking is a long and difficult path, so the more we can help each other out and build a community the better off all of us will be!

MD: Amen! I’d like to end by sharing Twtich in its entirety.

LINKS:
Official Twitch Site
Official Unicorns Site
Leah Meyerhoff’s Blog
Leah Meyerhoff’s IMDB
Leah Meyerhoff’s Twitter
Unicorns Twitter

(This article was originally written for FilmCrusade.com)

During the summer of 1997, I worked in a Mom and Pop video store. We didn’t let the fact that we were small hold us back from being at the forefront. We were the first local video shop to carry a library of DVD’s while the behemoth retail chains were still hawking the soon-to-be-outdated VHS. As I first navigated the DVD format, something novel yet surprisingly intuitive emerged. Multiple languages, chapter stops, and special features introduced me to a brave new world of film. The feature that I was most enraptured by, and had the most value to me, was the audio commentary tracks.

Audio Commentary for “The Matrix.”

As a young aspiring writer and filmmaker, audio commentaries provided me an unprecedented, yet conversational look into filmmaking. I was enthralled by the scholarly discourse and entertained by the production minutiae. It was like a little bit of film school attached to the end of my favorite film. It made me feel like an insider. For others audio commentary provides sheer entertainment, an expected feature of modern home video. And others still, find it as an uninteresting feature that remains relegated to the niche backgrounds of cinephiles.

Long gone from today’s commentaries is the scholarly discourse. Instead, the commentary has been replaced by insipid anecdotes and the filmmaker’s inside jokes. It seems audiences are more interested in the strict entertainment aspects of commentary, such as on EuroTrip where the director plays a drinking game. Indeed it has become masturbatory rather than informational.

So, what happened to the thoughtful and deliberate audio commentary? When did the landscape change from deconstruction and intellectualization of filmmaking to a sheer and meaningless entertainment romp?

I asked a close friend of mine, a television writer, what she thought of the state of audio commentaries for film and television. She said plainly, she’s never watched or listened to a single one because she simply didn’t care. I was surprised! I had assumed, like me, most of my peers would enjoy, dare I say, revel in the special features and audio commentaries especially with movies that are repeat viewing favorites. Why wouldn’t they want to know everything there is to know about their favorite movie?

Another friend, a special effects artist feels ambivalent, “[the commentaries] always act like everything is a big happy family during production. I was just watching a dvd commentary on a movie I worked on. We [the effects team] made their movie look great. But the production was a nightmare, I wasn’t fully paid.” For him, commentary simply reminds him of the injustices of the industry.

Maybe there is very little usefulness of audio commentary for filmmakers. But that only makes up for a small portion of the movie-consuming public. Even today, despite its ubiquity, the value of having commentary on a film is difficult to measure. If you are an unknown, with only unsold or self produced projects there will be little interest in hearing you yap about how your uncle let you use his roller rink for the dance scene.

When an interviewer asked Woody Allen if he would like “definitive statements” on each of his films by way of commentary, Allen simply responded “No, I’m really not interested. I want my films to speak for themselves.”  For him, what is important is the film’s content. Is it a good film in its own merit?

Audio Commentary for “Donnie Darko.”

When I listened to the Director’s Cut DVD of Donnie Darko, I was disappointed when I discovered Kevin Smith, (whom was not involved in film) “stopped by” to talk on the commentary. I was far more interested in what Richard Kelly had to say about his vision and the new cut than Kevin Smith’s occasional dick joke and ramblings. It took me out of the experience; it was no longer a filmmaker and his film. I was no longer a fly on the wall, but an annoyed third wheel listening to two dudes who might as well have been chatting over a beer.

For those of you who love commentary and still feel like it has merit, there are sites that have emerged to help the film consumer navigate. Most notably is the user supported website RateThatCommentary.com. A quick look at the site and you may notice attitudes are changing. Interest in commentary that is more like an Inside the Actor’s Studio affair than a traditional audio commentary is on the rise. Indeed, one entry about the Donnie Darko audio commentary says: “I’m beginning to enjoy more commentaries where someone from outside the production of the film can sit in with the filmmaker.”

Despite this, I still love the audio commentaries and find their content mostly worthwhile. While I may get frustrated by their inelegance, or their pointless banter, it is still an inside ticket into a film. I feel more connected to it, knowing the small details that happened on set or the “happy accidents” that helped create my favorite scene. And for me, that’s what it’s all about.

It is quite possible that you’ve landed on my blog and you aren’t aware that I also organize a filmmaking network event called Screenwriter Karaoke. Right now the events are NYC based, but I hope soon to have an LA counterpart.

What is Screenwriter Karaoke? Think of it as a way to let your hair down, step up, wail on Super Tramp’s “The Long Way Home,” and then talk about your latest romantic comedy script. Looking for a collaborative writing partner with a knack for 17th Century English? You just might find one at Screenwriter Karaoke.

The event aims to be an informal way to meet your writing and filmmaking peers. Sometimes network events are just awkward, so why not try to loosen up have a couple of drinks and sing?

When: October 15, 2009 8:00 PM
Where:
Baby Grand
161 Lafayette Street at Grand
New York, NY 10013
212.219.8110

Please RSVP: http://www.meetup.com/Screenwriter-Karaoke/

To prove there is nothing to be afraid of, here I am on the right, rocking out to some Build me up Buttercup!

HEAD TO HEAD

As part of a new collaborative series of articles with Xandy Sussan of Covermyscript.com and Merrel Davis of MerrelDavis.com, we will deconstruct and evaluate modern and classic films from the screenwriting, directing and story perspectives. Our first movie is Shaun of the Dead. Articles will be cross-posted on both sites.

Shaun of the Dead: How do you Pegg it, when you Wright?

The zombie movie is as pervasive in our cinematic culture as popcorn at the concession stand, but what Shaun of the Dead brings us is a new take on a staid and challenging genre by seamlessly incorporating fresh comedic and romantic details into the traditional George A. Romero style zombie film. Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg figured out how to take a genre and twist it around, all the while, never sacrificing the key elements that make it what it is: a true zombie flick.

How do you tell a standard story in a way that is so fresh, so new, that while the pacing and character arcs are familiar, the offering is unique and special? How do you avoid being cliché, when there are only so many stories to tell and so many ways in which to tell them? The answer: Change the details. Could it really be that simple? Indeed, the Devil is in the details and the details are what makes a standard, typical, pat plot, fresh and inventive. That is exactly what Wright and Pegg did with Shaun of the Dead.

Shaun of the Dead changed the details in several key ways. In most zombie films, we open with a mysterious outbreak of a virus or some government experiment gone awry. The citizens get infected and then finally, a reluctant hero emerges, with a sawed-off shot gun to save the day… of the dead. But he winds up tragically only saving himself. Wright and Pegg take those elements and redefined them when they created Shaun.

CHARACTER

Xandy Sussan: Shaun, as a character, is archetypal, relatable, and understandable. He has a girlfriend he loves but he can’t get his act together. He works a dead end job, because he can’t get his act together. He has a Hamlet-esque relationship with his sainted mother, and childishly hates his step-father, because he can’t get his act together. Shaun is your basic everyman. The twist? Shaun is, while healthy, a zombie merely plodding through his own life. It takes the confrontation with the real zombies to knock him out of his stupor , to seize life, and to regain his love.

Both as a character and a visual metaphor, Shaun is what makes this movie such a gem and it is the literalness of the metaphor that makes it so clever. While the concept of the man sleep-walking through life is a well established premise, showing a man literally walking through life like a zombie, until such time as he has to fight actual zombies is a fresh and inventive take on that basic idea. The script wove pedestrian character dilemmas in to the fabric of the story so seamlessly. It used action counterpoint so masterfully, to articulate the problems that it felt there were two films (a romantic comedy and a zombie flick) running side by side, in harmonious, parallel perfection.

Merrel Davis: It is Shaun’s day-to-day minutiae, which establishes his character as someone we know, but that is only half of the character equation. Every Lone Ranger needs his Tonto, and for Shaun, it is the daft and selfish, best friend Ed. Ed appears only as comic relief in the first act, a bumbling fool who is so self-involved that while everyone is running from zombies, it is he who pauses for a silly photo-op or takes a call from a mate looking to score some weed. Others, including Shaun, feel that it is exactly this behavior that is holding Shaun back. Ed’s actions, serve to highlight the duality of Shaun: the man-child and the emerging hero. It is these two discordant characteristics, which illuminate Shaun’s inability to marry his old life with his new.

When Shaun finally decides that he must grow up, that he must be responsible for more than just himself, it is Ed’s ridiculous and selfish behavior that forces Shaun into a moment of clarity and responsibility. At the height of being surrounded by hundreds of zombies in front of the locked pub, “The Winchester,” Shaun can no longer ignore what he hates about his friend, what he hates about himself.

Like a good “Tonto” always did, when backed in a corner, Ed displays a triumphant act of heroism and sacrifice. When the zombies are closing in on the cellar and it seems as though all is lost, Ed redeems himself and shows Shaun that while you can still be a child at heart, you can also be a man.

Visual Style

Turning an eye to the visual look of Shaun of the Dead, we discover frenetic and fast paced cuts ala Requiem for a Dream for the most mundane of tasks such as brushing teeth. It is this visual reinvention of pedestrian activities which creates a feverish yet controlled environment that enhances the pacing of the plot. It is this filmmaking style, married with intuitive use of tracking shots and visual call backs that makes this movie.

MD: The first scene is a brilliant piece of filmmaking and editing that immediately pulls the audience in, while exposing several layers of backstory through a series of cut-aways and reveals. The scene begins tight on Shaun. It appears as if he is alone at the bar. Then, as we pull back, Liz is revealed. It now seems as though they are alone having a relationship chat. But then, we go wide again to reveal Ed, as he plays a fruit machine, mere steps away from the quarreling lovers. Then we ratchet back in tight to Shaun and Liz, until the line “It’s not like I don’t like David and Di” where we reveal yet again, there are more players in the room. We cut to a medium wide of David and Dianne as they sit right next to Liz; a hilarious reveal.

This style of editing and shot construction opens up the scene to five players, in a clever way that later echoes the interpersonal relationships and struggles the characters must confront. It also allows for us to go back in tight between two characters and then go wide again, without feeling too jostled.

XS: I love the entire “You’ve got red on you” sequence and multiple call backs. From the moment it begins, we find a foreboding, yet hilarious rake joke foreshadowing what’s to come. A simple pen stain on a white shirt really means so much more. It establishes character: a schnook of a man whose pen breaks open, ruining his work shirt. We suddenly know all we need to about that guy, and it’s all conveyed through one tiny detail: a small red stain on a white work shirt.

The red ink establishing the bloodshed to come is both a simple and elegant. It is a perfect visual clue to let us know what is just around the corner. When both Ed and Shaun’s Mother subsequently deliver the line “You’ve got red on you,” the meaning and intention is overtly clear. It is a quite clever touch, really.

STORY

The story is as basic as they come. Boy gets girl, boy looses girl, boy gets girl back by slaying zombies. What Wright and Pegg did was take a standard by-the-numbers plot and make it dazzling, simply by adjusting the details and changing up the visual way in which they were presented. They did so without sacrificing originality and staying true to their genre.

XS: The story, on the whole, is satisfying on a number of levels. There’s the romance between Shaun and Liz: their easily relatable problems, their commonplace if not charming arguments, their friends who can’t help but interfere with their own agendas. It’s your standard three act romantic comedy but it delivers with clever, fresh dialogue and a breezy pace.

MD: Then there is the zombie element, the action, and the adventure. All of which takes us down a path of thrilling edge-of-your-seat entertainment.

As the zombies spill to the streets there are moments that evoke Resident Evil 2, a survival horror video game. These are moments of intense desperation and fear, not only just of the known (zombies) but the overarching fear of the unknown (government conspiracy?)

Shaun embarks on a treasure hunt of sorts, he must go from location to location, saving person by person, until he leads them to relative safety. And, as though the filmmakers knew the audience was getting a little antsy for some gunplay, they deliver in the form of a pump-action shot gun!

XS: And of course there is the comedy to give us a much needed respite from all of the harrowing gore. There’s always room for a joke and Wright and Penn know the proper moment to deliver one, especially in the most dire of circumstances. Whether is be an off-color fart joke (“Shaun, I’m sorry. No, I’m really sorry”) or the more subtle joke (“No, what does ‘exacerbate’ mean?”) there is always an instance, which enhances the story or gives us a momentary break from the non-stop action.

MD: I especially liked the choreographed attack of the elderly zombie backed by the soundtrack of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now. It was new, different and gave the audience a catchy tune to bounce around to, while violence was erupting all around us.

A zombie flick is several things: it is a visual story, it is an emotional, and oft times painful journey, it is a bloody catharsis, which by the end, leads us to be reborn, satisfied movie goers. Shaun of the Dead is a perfect example of a film whose details made all the difference between lazing down the path of least resistance and charging down the avenue of newly conceived, exciting peril.

It is with Shaun of the Dead that we rediscover our love of romance, adventure and are thrilled by an equal amount of gory, yet hilarious, zombie slaying. The audience leaves with two lessons: Pay attention to your life, because it’s over before you know it. And that any story is new again when you simply change the details. The details are what will make your script and subsequent film stand out from the lackluster trite projects that consistently glut the marketplace. Shaun of the Dead should inspire you, as it did us, to employ standard structure and stay true to our chosen genre, but be intrepid when crafting original and creative, stand-out details.

I’m back from a five day stint at the Southampton Screenwriters Conference, which was held at Stony Brook University, Southampton, Long Island.

What a wonderful experience!  Back in May when I was accepted to the conference I had some very specific goals in mind. I was going to workshop my feature script Through the Broken Glass. By the time of the conference, I had finished my fifth draft and was ready to run it through the ringer.

Surprising to me, was just how many things I learned during the conference both internal and external of my script.

The Workshop

Each morning began with the core workshop. I attended “Mastering Scene Writing” with actor/writer/director Peter Riegert in a small class of about six people. In this intimate environment Riegert proved a sharp guy. He offered a wealth of anecdotal advice based on both his acting experience and his experience writing and directing his Oscar nominated short By Courier and his feature length film King of the Corner.

Merrel Davis (me!) and Peter Riegert

It was refreshing to hear a consummate actor such as Peter Riegert read lines from my script. A lesson emerged from reading, a lesson of cleverness and simplicity and their places. I had written something (in a much earlier draft) that tickled me pink, and I was proud of it. But as Riegert said, “wit runs only so far.” My clever scene with a visual trick with an overly complicated execution didn’t really add to the my story, in fact it detracted.

The rest of the workshop explored simplicity and profundity as a way to “rise to the occasion” in a scene. Many view scriptwriting as severely limiting – Riegert encouraged us to “exploit what is limited.” Part of filmmaking is to embrace the limitations (no internal dialogue, visual storytelling, et. al.)

The Classes

In the afternoon, there were electives available to all screenwriters and playwrights.  I took an elective course “What Lies beneath” about psychology and screenwriting with screenwriter turned psychotherapist Renee Shafransky. [Note: Look for a full post about just this topic in the near future.]

She opened quite compellingly with the statement “Every good screenwriter is a psychologist.” She focused on the concept of “Why Now?” The idea of why are we seeing these characters in a certain state at this moment, what pushed them there? Shafranksy stated: “This will give the urgency to your story.  What’s so urgent today that wasn’t urgent yesterday?”

“Writing for the Camera” with Robert Emmett Ginna focused on how the visual narrative can show so much, without a word of dialogue. He spoke about his time on the set of Lawrence of Arabia and regaled us with tales of old-Hollywood. We watched Kurosawa and talked about how important visual is to the story telling component. A real old-school Hollywood filmmaker.

“Based on a true story” with Carla Singer, whom had done many made-for-tv-movies for lifetime and others, was an interesting exploration of life rights, life story rights, and legal problems associated with basing a script on real events.

Lastly, I attended “Editing and Rewriting” with Carol Dysinger. We spent much of the class deconstructing the script and film version of Barton Fink. Dysinger was on point with no-bullshit advice advice about screenwriting. She convinced me to “kill the leather notebook” — I’d been hanging onto the vestiges of a sub-plot that existed in the first draft(s) that had proved problematic. It involved the protagonist receiving a leather note book as a child. I spent so much time trying to make this component work, when really it just didn’t belong.

Dysinger left two things seared into my mind: “Manifest the movie in the mind’s eye of the reader” and  “Dialogue should be Haiku.” I couldn’t agree more.

The Speakers

Novelist/playwright/screenwriter Peter Hedges, perhaps best known for penning the novel and screenplay of What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, spoke at length about his creation process.  I asked Hedges to share the differences he saw in adapting his own work or others. He said that early on he was afraid to betray the voice of the novel, even his own. Hedges later realized it was the story which mattered and began to focus on developing story for screen without rigidly focusing on the novel counterpart.

Screenwriter and AMPAS Nicholl Fellow Will Chandler posted some great notes on Peter Hedge’s Q&A over at the ScriptMag blog.

The following night, Alec Baldwin and Jon Robin Baitz took the stage to discuss writing for film and television. Baitz spoke of how he entered television writing as a way to financially offset his love of playwriting. He cautioned playwrights against going into television writing for the money, as too many never come back into the theatre fray. Baitz said “be responsible for what you write” – he stressed culpability for the work you produce.

Alec Baldwin spoke similarly of the responsibility of an actor. He once turned down a $750,000 gig to read a ‘part of a cop killer’ for the Grand Theft Auto games. Baldwin also said “the time of the writer/director has arrived” – if not for any other reason than, budgets are shrinking and why pay for 2 people when you can pay for one?

The Atmosphere

The lovely setting of Southampton, with its beautiful sprawling land and the beach so close, proved the perfect setting to clear my head. The Stony Brook University campus was accessible and inviting, and the organizers took every step to accommodate conference goers.

Unbeknownst to me until arrival, a playwriting conference was also taking place, and as a result I spent my time mingling between actors, playwrights, and screenwriters (and a couple of poets and novelists for good measure.) There was a sense of camaraderie between the “students” and the “teachers.” But really were all students and all teachers.

As there was a concurrent playwriting conference, I had the oft not indulged luxury of going to see some theatre. I attended a reading of “The First Day of School” by Billy Aronson, directed by Robert Davenport. It was a great experience, and made me wish to go to the theatre more often.

Also, be sure to check out Laura Thompson’s recap of the event. She attended Christina Lazaridi’s workshop on “Understanding Film Structure.”

Was it worth it?

Walking away, I feel invigorated. I’ve met new friends, made new professional contacts, and damnit I enjoyed myself! Something interesting emerged from the conference that I wasn’t expecting; I connected. Not just with my own work, but with fellow creatives. I have new goals to compliment my already riotous and fast paced journey.

This past weekend I went to the New York City opening of Duncan Jones‘ Moon downtown at my favorite theater, Sunshine Cinema.

There are plenty of great reviews of the film and interviews with director Duncan Jones. The buzz around Moon is burning white hot, there’s plenty out there to sublimate your media desires. As I often do, I’d like to explore my own personal experience as it relates to the film. I find this is a better way to connect with the work than a traditional review.

Moon is a film that readily plays with preconceived notions about what a science fiction film is or should be. As a jaded movie goer and screenwriter, I’m weary of the same contrived story twists that appear in movies. When I first saw the trailer for Moon, I was genuinely impressed. It has been a long while since simply watching a trailer got me excited to see a film. I was even more excited when I learned Duncan Jones would be on hand for some Q&A after the screening.

My science fiction chops were cultivated through American re-runs of Doctor Who. As such, I wasn’t expectant of over the top or flashy special effects. Just a good and engaging story that didn’t insult the audience. (On the literary side of things, I was reading things like Ender’s Game and The War Against the Chtorr.) Over the last twenty years, science fiction in television and film has fractured into countless sub-genres. The value of a good science fiction film has eroded as the marketplace is inundated big budget tent poles that look pretty but lack substance.  As an example, the “Space Opera” has enjoyed much time front and center. I’ve always felt there are better and more interesting stories to be told outside of warring factions in space and ship crews.

That is partly why Moon instinctively appealed to me. The story was smart and didn’t talk down. A sense of ambiguity played in favor against a set of preconceived notions that have manifested themselves in the movie going consciousness. However, it is hard to talk about the story beyond its synopsis, as there is a bit of magic that I don’t wish to ruin for others. By the way of “back to basics” story telling, Moon epitomizes sci-fi staples like Outland and Silent Running. There is an intensity and a level of energy that looks at real plausible science in a Carl Sagan-esque way.

When it came time to open up the floor for questions, I dutifully wrote down a detailed question. When called upon I could not find my paper! (Later, I’d find my question, it was about the revision process that screenwriter Nathan Parker went through.) So, I asked Duncan Jones to speak about the process leading up to his feature film. What was his planned trajectory? How did he position himself to move to the next level? Jones’ answer was a sensible one. He went to film school, leveraged himself in music videos and advertising, doing as much in the advertising world as possible to ready himself for a feature film. His ad for FCUK (not a typo, that’s French Connection UK) garnered quite a bit of attention in the UK as it featured two beautiful women in a martial arts brawl who then kiss.

The highlight of the evening, however, was when I briefly met Duncan Jones one on one. Ahead of me was a young Australian film student who was grilling him on “the next step.” Duncan was grateful, polite, and dare I say, humble. Always eloquent with my oratory skills introduced myself and said “I fucking loved” his film — I’m articulate like that! We talked for a bit, I gave him my card and thanked him for his work.

And so my evening ended standing next to a film director that I believe will make some great professional traction in the coming years. Go see Moon. You won’t regret it.

Every once in a while I will read a book that infects my mind long after I’ve finished it. The War Zone By Alexander Stuart, a narrative of a young boy coping with the emotional destruction of his world,  haunts and calls to me.  I find it hard to ignore.

Despite the  storied 20 year history of both the novel and subsequent movie, I was ignorant of its existence. By happenstance, I came across the author’s twitter account. Stuart’s amiable demeanor online proves a contrast to the dark and uncompromising world of The War Zone.

And quite a history The War Zone has; the novel was stripped of the Whitbread Prize (now the Costa book awards.) An event that Stuart himself credits as far more helpful in promotion of his book than perhaps just receiving the award itself. Script adaptations of The War Zone by Stuart number in the tens, and it seemed a successful film adaptation would remain in “development hell” for all eternity. Here in Part 1, I will focus on the novel.

The Novel

The War Zone is a dark, unwavering narrative filled with elegant prose. A book oft touted as about incest and abuse, was to me, a deep and layered texture about middle-class suburban despondence. The true disconnectedness and alienation that is male adolescence (I’ve been there!) is compounded by a world spiraling out of control. As a reader, the comfort of familiarity is ripped away as an impending sense of dread and uneasiness builds. To be inside the head of a young boy, Tom, surprisingly evoked more pity than sympathy. All of Tom’s innocence, his childhood, become forever stained by the knowledge of his father’s sexual abuse of his sister Jessica. As I read, my mind stiffened. I braced for impending impact, almost certain of its trajectory. And suddenly, what I knew, was not what I knew. Tom’s fear and his inability to change the outcome of even his own life paralyzes the reader.

The bleak and muted English countryside enraptured me. Even though I’ve never been to the United Kingdom, Stuart conjures a middle class moroseness that I’m all too familiar with here in the States. I enjoyed the subtle, stifled elements of the world. There is a realness and depth that is unnerving. As a result, I have very little want to ever visit the Devon countryside.

In literature and film, victims of sexual abuse are too often painted as helpless and subdued, call it the “lifetime movie effect.” Here, Jessica presents as a strong character, and even appears to instigate sexual encounters with her father. While it is clear Jessica is the victim of sexual abuse, The War Zone paints in shades of grey. In an unflinchingly real look at sexual abuse, the reader is left with a conflicted view of the ‘relationship’ – Does Jessica truly believe she is having sex with her father of her own volition? Or is she so emotionally damaged that her only way to cope with this terrible abuse is to somehow to claim it as her own?

As I read, I was reminded of my first read of Anthony Burgess‘ A Clockwork Orange. A book in which the most utterly taboo things were explored in an equally unflinching light. As a younger reader I was shocked and delighted at the shifts and turns it offered. Like The War Zone; Clockwork haunted me long after I set it down.

For me, this was a deeply personal book. Some may ask “how could you enjoy something with such a horrid subject matter?” I’m not sure I have an exact answer to that. There is nothing ‘feel good’ about it. And yet, I found it captivating and meaningful. The War Zone has found a permanent place on my bookshelf.

(Merrel Note 6/12/2009 : I posted this review to twitter. I was delighted and surprised by the response from the author himself. “@UncompletedWork Wow! That’s an amazing review of my book. Thank you so much. I really feel that you *get* every element of it…” If this wasn’t humbling enough, he re-tweeted my review to share with his other followers.)

The Future of The War Zone

This fall will see the re-issue of the  20th Anniversary edition of The War Zone.  The fate of the film is a little less clear. The North American distributor of the film, New Yorker Films, recently shuttered its doors. DVD’s are currently being price gouged on Amazon and other sites for as much as $60. It is unknown whether a new distributor will re-release the film.  Luckily, Netflix does have the DVD and it is available for streaming.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of Stepping into ‘The War Zone’ where I take a look at the Stuart adapted, and Tim Roth directed film.

Links

Alexander Stuart’s website
Alexander Stuart’s Twitter
Alexander Stuart’s Blog
IMDB page
Amazon