Even stranger....
One has the exact same name as one of our esteemed professors.
This just got real.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wow.
Isn't the information age amazing? In the course of five minutes after posting a call for actors on craigslist, I got 5 inquiries.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Moving forward
I have figured out what my film is about. The only problem is, I have no idea what my story is.
Perhaps I should clarify.
My film is based upon the statement, "Any form of idealism, once rejected by the idealist, leads to nihilism." My film is going to trace the lives of an idealist as he confronts the collapse of his idealistic structure and becomes a nihilist, a nihilist as she flounders in a cycle of meaninglessness, and another nihilist who breaks out of the cycle and becomes an existentialist.
This is all well and good (at least in my mind), except I have no idea what actually is going to happen in the film. I want to include a catastrophic event that links the lives of the three characters (like the car crash in Amores Perros), but I'm having trouble creating a life-altering event that can be produced with next to no budget.
I'm further confronted (again) with the issue of time. An idealist does not shed his ideals over night. He only surrenders after a long war of attrition that ultimately leaves him defeated. How to express this in ten minutes currently escapes me.
As for the episodes of the two nihilists....I haven't even begun to try tackling those yet.
Perhaps I should clarify.
My film is based upon the statement, "Any form of idealism, once rejected by the idealist, leads to nihilism." My film is going to trace the lives of an idealist as he confronts the collapse of his idealistic structure and becomes a nihilist, a nihilist as she flounders in a cycle of meaninglessness, and another nihilist who breaks out of the cycle and becomes an existentialist.
This is all well and good (at least in my mind), except I have no idea what actually is going to happen in the film. I want to include a catastrophic event that links the lives of the three characters (like the car crash in Amores Perros), but I'm having trouble creating a life-altering event that can be produced with next to no budget.
I'm further confronted (again) with the issue of time. An idealist does not shed his ideals over night. He only surrenders after a long war of attrition that ultimately leaves him defeated. How to express this in ten minutes currently escapes me.
As for the episodes of the two nihilists....I haven't even begun to try tackling those yet.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Philsophy and the Internal Struggle
After a studio visit and meeting today, I feel like I've found a new direction. With the establishment of more concrete deadlines, I feel like I can accomplish more than I originally thought. As it stands now, I'd like to do 4 "episodes." They would each have a clear cut beginning, middle and end and would be able to stand alone, but together they would create a much bigger whole.
In Screenplay, Syd Field defines a sequence as a collection of scenes with a unifying thought or idea. A film is made up of a series of sequences. I can see each episode of my piece being self contained, but ultimately a sequence in the entirety of my film. In this vein, I think I would change my goal from a 10-15 minute short over the course of the year to a collection of four 10-minute episodes that come together to form a 40 minute film. Maybe this is too ambitious. I'll see what my mentor says.
Right now I am struggling. The subjects and concept that most interest me do not lend themselves well to film. In terms of the dramatic need that is essential to a successful story, the idea I keep returning to is the need to find meaning in an absurd world. This got me going into researching and reading about both nihilism and existentialism.
I found resonance in the statement that any form of idealism, once rejected by the idealist, leads to nihilism. Nihilism holds that only higher values and truths deserve to be called as valuable and truthful, but rejects the notion that they exist. Nothing has any meaning or purpose. All acts, be they suffering, toil or any form of feeling, are in vain.
I feel like at some point, with the proper amount of will, nihilism transitions into existentialism. Existentialists see nihilists desire to destroy all knowledge, value and meaning as a form of suicide, as the human animal thrives on value. They hold that one must give value to their own existence by living as if one's life were a work of art.
I feel like both philosophies hold great thematic potential for a film. They deal with dread, boredom, alienation, freedom, the absurd, commitment and nothingness. Existentialism holds that man has the freedom to do anything he wants, but must own and bear the consequences of his actions.
It's interesting how the screenwriting tenet "A Character is what he does, not what he says," is perfectly in line with the existential belief that a man is defined only insofar as his actions.
But it's in the transition from philosophical inspiration to cinematic expression that I have reached an impasse. The struggle one experiences from the transition from nihilism to existentialism, or the conflict one feels toward the world while being mindful of either, is largely an internal one. An internal struggle at the forefront of a film would make for an incredibly boring cinematic experience.
Also, many of the philosophical confrontations and realizations that would be interesting arise over a long period of contemplation and experience. How would a film convey conclusions that arise out of years of toil and thought?
How does one visually manifest the dramatic need of a character to find meaning for himself in an absurd world following the collapse of his idealism as he tries to evade the trappings of nihilism?
In Screenplay, Syd Field defines a sequence as a collection of scenes with a unifying thought or idea. A film is made up of a series of sequences. I can see each episode of my piece being self contained, but ultimately a sequence in the entirety of my film. In this vein, I think I would change my goal from a 10-15 minute short over the course of the year to a collection of four 10-minute episodes that come together to form a 40 minute film. Maybe this is too ambitious. I'll see what my mentor says.
Right now I am struggling. The subjects and concept that most interest me do not lend themselves well to film. In terms of the dramatic need that is essential to a successful story, the idea I keep returning to is the need to find meaning in an absurd world. This got me going into researching and reading about both nihilism and existentialism.
I found resonance in the statement that any form of idealism, once rejected by the idealist, leads to nihilism. Nihilism holds that only higher values and truths deserve to be called as valuable and truthful, but rejects the notion that they exist. Nothing has any meaning or purpose. All acts, be they suffering, toil or any form of feeling, are in vain.
I feel like at some point, with the proper amount of will, nihilism transitions into existentialism. Existentialists see nihilists desire to destroy all knowledge, value and meaning as a form of suicide, as the human animal thrives on value. They hold that one must give value to their own existence by living as if one's life were a work of art.
I feel like both philosophies hold great thematic potential for a film. They deal with dread, boredom, alienation, freedom, the absurd, commitment and nothingness. Existentialism holds that man has the freedom to do anything he wants, but must own and bear the consequences of his actions.
It's interesting how the screenwriting tenet "A Character is what he does, not what he says," is perfectly in line with the existential belief that a man is defined only insofar as his actions.
But it's in the transition from philosophical inspiration to cinematic expression that I have reached an impasse. The struggle one experiences from the transition from nihilism to existentialism, or the conflict one feels toward the world while being mindful of either, is largely an internal one. An internal struggle at the forefront of a film would make for an incredibly boring cinematic experience.
Also, many of the philosophical confrontations and realizations that would be interesting arise over a long period of contemplation and experience. How would a film convey conclusions that arise out of years of toil and thought?
How does one visually manifest the dramatic need of a character to find meaning for himself in an absurd world following the collapse of his idealism as he tries to evade the trappings of nihilism?
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Stories
For my senior thesis project, I am going to produce a complete film, from development through production, over the course of the year. Lately I've been struggling with subject matter. I've been reading Syd Field's book Screenplay, which has been largely helpful with understanding the story-creation process, but it does not write my story for me.
I do not want my project to be easily identified as a college student's film. As such, I need to identify and avoid the conventions that many student filmmakers (most likely inadvertently) follow. When someone watches the final product, I don't want them to see it as one of many student films. I want to have my voice present, but not project that voice as that of a college student.
Films that inspire me include Amores Perros, 21 Grams, Trainspotting, La Haine and City of God. I am interested in exploring hyperlink cinema, but I feel like using that framework might come off as a gimmick, not to mention the character and story development required for its successful implementation would be next to impossible in 10-15 minutes.
I recently read the script from the Simpsons Treehouse of Horror VI. I thought that in reading a set of three complete stories that runs with commercials in 30 minutes, I could be better able to understand what I can do in a short amount of time. Amazingly, each segment adheres to the three-act structure (though sometimes truncated) as outlined by Field. The three-act structure does not need to be thrown by the wayside just because the time frame is a mere fraction of that of a feature screenplay.
I feel like my direction is beginning to develop.
I do not want my project to be easily identified as a college student's film. As such, I need to identify and avoid the conventions that many student filmmakers (most likely inadvertently) follow. When someone watches the final product, I don't want them to see it as one of many student films. I want to have my voice present, but not project that voice as that of a college student.
Films that inspire me include Amores Perros, 21 Grams, Trainspotting, La Haine and City of God. I am interested in exploring hyperlink cinema, but I feel like using that framework might come off as a gimmick, not to mention the character and story development required for its successful implementation would be next to impossible in 10-15 minutes.
I recently read the script from the Simpsons Treehouse of Horror VI. I thought that in reading a set of three complete stories that runs with commercials in 30 minutes, I could be better able to understand what I can do in a short amount of time. Amazingly, each segment adheres to the three-act structure (though sometimes truncated) as outlined by Field. The three-act structure does not need to be thrown by the wayside just because the time frame is a mere fraction of that of a feature screenplay.
I feel like my direction is beginning to develop.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Random Plug
I just finished the Potato Pirates' website. I've dabbled for a while with web design stuff but I still don't really know what I'm doing. I haven't had a chance to look at it on any other computers so I don't know if it'll look right on any monitor but my own, and there's not a whole of content there yet. Now I have the vessel though, and I can pour the content in once it becomes available.
And there's some buried treasure on there too, since nothing pirate related would be complete without some form of hidden riches.
And there's some buried treasure on there too, since nothing pirate related would be complete without some form of hidden riches.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Writing
Terry Rossio, the screenwriter behind Aladdin, The Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl and Shrek, worked as a reader for six different production companies in Hollywood for two years. This experience imparted some insight as to what makes a good screenplay. Out of an entire list of 60 points, my favorite words of wisdom are:
"If you're writing about a fantasy-come-true, turn it quickly into a nightmare-that-won't-end."
"What does the story have that the audience can't get from real life?"
"Start with a punch, end with a flurry."
"Does the screenplay create questions: will he find out the truth? Did she do it? Will they fall in love? Has a strong 'need to know' hook been built into the story?"
"Does the concept create the potential for the characters' lives to be changed?"
"Does the story transport the audience?"
"Once the parameters of the film's reality are established, they must not be violated. Limitations call for interesting solutions."
"Is there a decisive, inevitable, set-up ending that is nonetheless unexpected?"
"Is there heart at the center of the story? Avoid mean-spirited storylines."
The list contains a multitude of other points, but I think these are the most important to be mindful of when writing a screenplay.
"If you're writing about a fantasy-come-true, turn it quickly into a nightmare-that-won't-end."
"What does the story have that the audience can't get from real life?"
"Start with a punch, end with a flurry."
"Does the screenplay create questions: will he find out the truth? Did she do it? Will they fall in love? Has a strong 'need to know' hook been built into the story?"
"Does the concept create the potential for the characters' lives to be changed?"
"Does the story transport the audience?"
"Once the parameters of the film's reality are established, they must not be violated. Limitations call for interesting solutions."
"Is there a decisive, inevitable, set-up ending that is nonetheless unexpected?"
"Is there heart at the center of the story? Avoid mean-spirited storylines."
The list contains a multitude of other points, but I think these are the most important to be mindful of when writing a screenplay.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Learned Hopelessness
For some reason the psychological condition of Learned Helplessness has been floating around the back of my mind for a while. The last time I had any real exposure to the concept was in the fall of 2005 when I took an introductory psychology class.
The concept began with Martin Seligman's experiments at Cornell University in the late 1960s. In his first experiment, he placed three sets of dogs in harnesses. The first set hung in the harness for a set amount of time then was released. The second set was subjected to electric shock which they could turn off by activating a lever. The third set was exposed to a shock of the same duration and intensity as the second set, but had no control over the initiation of cessation of the shock. From their perspective, the shocks began and stopped at random.
Following this initial experiment, the first two sets of dogs seemed fine. The third set, however, exhibited signs consistent with psychological depression. Moreover, they exhibited a sense of helplessness that was absent to the other sets of dogs.
For a second part of experimentation, Seligman put the dogs into a room divided into two parts by a low partitition. On one side of the partition the floor was electrified and on the other side it was not. When dogs from the first two sets of the previous experiment were put on the electrified floor, they quickly jumped over the partition into the "safe" side of the room. The dogs from the third set, however, had learned that they had no power to end the eletric shock and chose to remain on the electrified side. They suffered through the pain because they had previously learned that they were unable to end the pain of electric shock through any form of action. They could have easily escaped the shocks, but they had learned to be helpless.
The interesting thing is that not all the group three dogs were immobilized in the second experiment. About a third of the dogs escaped the circumstances. Seligman concluded that during the learning period, the dogs either learned to be helpless in a context specific manner or to be helpless in a more permanent, pervasive manner. Two thirds of the dogs learned the latter, while the more resilient remainder the former.
One noteworthy aspect of the human correlation to Learned Helplessness is vicarious learned helplessness. A person can learn to be helpless merely by observing another's struggle against uncontrollable events.
Now after all that, I wonder if Learned Helplessness is in any way present in the American public's reaction to high gas prices. To sum up common sentiment in blunt terms, "High gas prices suck, but there's nothing we can do but pay them." Have we learned to be helpless in the face of a large, complex system that is difficult to understand or are we just too lazy to put forth the effort to fight against high gas prices?
The concept began with Martin Seligman's experiments at Cornell University in the late 1960s. In his first experiment, he placed three sets of dogs in harnesses. The first set hung in the harness for a set amount of time then was released. The second set was subjected to electric shock which they could turn off by activating a lever. The third set was exposed to a shock of the same duration and intensity as the second set, but had no control over the initiation of cessation of the shock. From their perspective, the shocks began and stopped at random.
Following this initial experiment, the first two sets of dogs seemed fine. The third set, however, exhibited signs consistent with psychological depression. Moreover, they exhibited a sense of helplessness that was absent to the other sets of dogs.
For a second part of experimentation, Seligman put the dogs into a room divided into two parts by a low partitition. On one side of the partition the floor was electrified and on the other side it was not. When dogs from the first two sets of the previous experiment were put on the electrified floor, they quickly jumped over the partition into the "safe" side of the room. The dogs from the third set, however, had learned that they had no power to end the eletric shock and chose to remain on the electrified side. They suffered through the pain because they had previously learned that they were unable to end the pain of electric shock through any form of action. They could have easily escaped the shocks, but they had learned to be helpless.
The interesting thing is that not all the group three dogs were immobilized in the second experiment. About a third of the dogs escaped the circumstances. Seligman concluded that during the learning period, the dogs either learned to be helpless in a context specific manner or to be helpless in a more permanent, pervasive manner. Two thirds of the dogs learned the latter, while the more resilient remainder the former.
One noteworthy aspect of the human correlation to Learned Helplessness is vicarious learned helplessness. A person can learn to be helpless merely by observing another's struggle against uncontrollable events.
Now after all that, I wonder if Learned Helplessness is in any way present in the American public's reaction to high gas prices. To sum up common sentiment in blunt terms, "High gas prices suck, but there's nothing we can do but pay them." Have we learned to be helpless in the face of a large, complex system that is difficult to understand or are we just too lazy to put forth the effort to fight against high gas prices?
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