Sunday, February 21, 2010

Adventures on Ventura

The boulevard, of course.
Last night, Jadi, one of my roommates, took me out to dinner with some friends of hers. Good wine, good food, and good conversation. Loved it.
These three gentlemen then suggested we go out afterward, so we went to a bar called Oil Can Harry's. Turns out, it's a gay bar, and it's 70s disco night.
I grabbed a gin and tonic and panicked for a moment - I don't dance, so it was terrifying.
Then I looked around. Middle-aged gay men in the valley can't really dance either, so I jumped in...
and I had so much fun. Blondie's "Heart of Glass" started playing, and I joined Jadi, her friend Jenny, and the guys on the dance floor. Such a strange feeling, that moment when I just stopped caring. But it felt awesome. I've gotta do that again.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Trampled by an Avatard, or Why I Hate Everyone

Last night, I had a ticket for the Writer's Guild Beyond Words Nominees Panel. It was beyond words, all right. Then I went to bed, my anger subsided, and now I'm calm enough to sift through the ordeal.
And I am at work, so I should be able to maintain a socially acceptable level of calm to retell the horrors of a room full of egos, maniacs, and humanity's proverbial dregs.

My evening started innocently enough. There was a group of five poorly and overly dressed 18-20-somethings standing in front of me sounding stupid. Probably from USC. No offense to any USC students, especially since the wonderful Scott Brown wrote and directed Blue Movies (www.watchbluemovies.com - GO THERE), but that's my guess. I chalk up my annoyance with them as me being hungry and teething.
So we go in, everyone sits down. The event starts nearly a half-hour late. The room is set up poorly - cameras front and center so no one can see, microphones for the Q&A set up in the middle of the aisles so EVERYONE is inconvenienced. These mics are wireless, by the way, and could easily be carried to anyone with a reasonable question within the theater. Like those of us who wanted to ask legitimate questions but did not want to sit on the floor in a skirt. I need to do laundry. I wore a skirt. Sue me.
Judd Apatow is a lovely moderator, and the evening begins interestingly. The writers all have interesting answers, they joke, they respect each other, and Geoffrey Fletcher, who wrote Precious, isn't a comedian. Big surprise. The writer of PRECIOUS isn't FUNNY. I'm fucking shocked.
So people don't like him. Writers, unproduced, skeezy writers don't like the guy who lived our lives struggling to make it for years and years and finally got his big break. Because their jealous, don't possess empathy, and probably suck at writing so they're going to keep struggling.
One woman clapped during one of his answers as though she were going to stop him from speakning. This woman, who smelled, was sitting in front of me. I whispered for her to stop. Fuck it - I wanted to hear what he had to say. He's coming from teh most familiar place, so he's probably got some of the best advice. Right? Oh wait - that would be LOGICAL. And half these people were there to see Cameron, so clearly logic is not high on their priorities.
God bless James Cameron, though, for shutting up the stupid nerds with stupid questions. He managed to tell people to stop talking while complimenting his fellow writers in a way that was sincere and showed his respect and love for film making.
And he made it very clear that he makes films for audiences, and it's really obvious to me now why he is so successful. Not that True Lies wasn't enough - it's just cool to see it in person.
Jason Reitman, on the other hand, loves himself, his overblown facial expressions, and his pie chart. Fuck that pie chart. I'm going to start keeping my own chart of how many times Reitman mentioned it. Ungrateful basterd. I'd love to be in a position where people could ask me questions, even the inane, ridiculous, and borderline retarded questions that he must get asked over and over and over again.
Poor poor baby.
Aaaaaaaaanyway, the evening ended, most mercifully, and people milled about. I got shoved into a cupcake, got frosting on my hand, so I decided to escape into the theater to try and meet either Scott Cooper of Crazy Heart awesomeness, or perhaps Lucas or Moore of Hangover fame since they came into speak to my class and I had an original draft of their script. This did not happen because I was pushed repeatedly and then trampled by an Avatard chasing after Cameron. And when I say trampled, I mean he stepped on my foot, but it still hurt and my toe bled a little.
When I tried to talk to other people waiting in line, when they weren't literally shoving their way in between me and the writers, I got asked what I did for a living. I suppose that's normal small talk. Only when I say I work at a production company, it immediately turns into "I have this script..." networking. I don't care if you have a script. So do I. Why would I put yours, which is probably crap because you're unrepresented and pandering to me, an assistant, in my boss' inbox?
Yeah, I can't figure that one out either. But again, logic was in short supply last night.
By the time I got home, I was too upset to do anything but cry myself to sleep.

I did meet Judd Apatow, very briefly. Not only was he an awesome moderator, but he's a pretty neat dude with a funny nose.

So, with a new respect for James Cameron, I still really hate LA, people, and this industry sometimes.
Why can't we all behave like animators?

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Weirdest, Most Lucid, Most Narrative Dream I've Ever Had

Last night, I had a dream that there was a zombie disease infestation. People were getting scared because you couldn't tell who was infected and who wasn't. The infection made you smarter, colder, more Hannibal-like, but it also made everyone hungry for flesh. I didn't have it, but I wasn't scared to go outside because I was really annoyed with the people I was stuck with, and the house was too small. I left.
As I was running along, people started hunting me because they thought I was a zombie. Which I clearly was not. I was laughing and smelling flowers and just enjoying life where everyone was off the streets. As people started to threaten me, I ran into this really nice house to escape, and two toddlers approached me. They were very articulate, clearly infected, and they both called themselves Colby. In fact, this infestation was something like a hive mind, an alien, that was one, but took over many humans and used their small brains to enact its small tasks. We became little hands of the bigger whole. A real collective consciousness. I took care of both the babies named Colby (what a STUPID name for a godlike infestation, right?!), but they wouldn't let me get infected and become smart like them. So I just hung out and enjoyed being around the little brains and away from the stupid house. But they found us, and they started to attack the house, so I woke up.
Or something like that. The details are fuzzy now, but it was a super real, super lucid, super narrative dream. The babies were really cute. And they respected me, so they didn't try to eat me. I liked their selection process - sorta like how we treat some animals as pets, eat others, and don't care at all about plants.
But I think I've got to stop eating chips and drinking Stella and watching Henson in the evening.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Asking for Trouble

I saw three fantastic movies this weekend. I've been writing.
I spent Valentine's day narrating The Holiday to a friend via AIM.
I've drank more Stella than I care to disclose.
And I've been very happy and very sad.
Gotta love a holiday weekend.
I realized, though, after An Education, that I need to grow up. And perhaps that means I need to hurt just a little.
I say I want to find a Henry Higgins or maybe a David Goldberg (An Education reference, forgive me) to, as I told my friend earlier, show me the other person inside me and bring her to the surface. I need to fall in love and have my heart broken.
I need to dance with another person and let go of that fear.
I need to live a life that is, for a moment, as idealistic as I feel right now.
See - asking for trouble.
Bring it on! For God's sake, bring it on!
I went from a very small world that didn't fit to a very large world that is so much bigger than I could have ever dreamed, and I'm lost.
Perhaps a first love would be like weight training. It would stretch and tear at that stupid little heart muscle so it can grow. So I can grow.

And there that is.
Good night, and here's hoping for some adventure and a few torn muscles along the way.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Slow Day at Work Means Interesting Discussion

First - today is a day I hate folks who went to film school and this new wave of "hipsters" who simultaneous revile and steal culture so that soon we will have nothing but genres.
I love the commercial film industry. It is not evil because we are not artists. Unless we're animators, then art is not our primary goal. And animators could bear that title, and most choose not to. They just love the work. Funny ol' world, idn't it?
That being said, this is a brilliant industry, beautiful as it is convoluted. So -
Understand the system before you criticize commercial film makers, and then take a moment to realize that there is almost no such thing as an independent film any more. Not like we want to think there is. Independent film is as much of an illusion as our cultural ideas of happiness. And I don't mean that as a cynic, I mean that as someone who sees something seriously wrong with the lack of culture, community, and commonality of purpose that used to make us human. Or humane.
And perhaps, selfish being that I am, I am hypocritical in saying any of this.
But today I was stuck in a facebook argument - I'll remark on that tragedy in another post because facebook, like "film makers", has worn me thin.
Big films, broad films, fund little films.
Sometimes, books, such as those by Isaac Asimov, don't get sold unless they can be made bigger, better, faster. Asimov is going the way of the dodo. Emmerich directing Foundations might not be ideal, but if he's willing, maybe another junior high or high school kid will hear about the original books and learn something new.
And hell, if there's an audience for it, doesn't that validate it as film?
A slippery slope, I know, but it's a question, not necessarily my belief.
Which brings me to number 2.
The New York Times had a photo accompanying their article about the Georgian luge racer killed at the Olympics. His last moments of life became a horror photo instead of a tragedy.
Sure, there is free speech. And sure, I don't believe in censorship, but what happened to taste and respect?
Perhaps if this were a film pitch, if this were a story being made about the incident and not a news article about the film itself, then maybe it's appropriate. But as it stands, I'm not sure this is. I think it's sensationalism at the expense of his family, friends, and fellow racers who survived him.
A frustrating day for media. Except for this:


It's a Beacon movie! Suzann Ellis, mentioned as EP in the article, is the woman for whom I work! Go Suzann! Go Beacon! I'm super excited for this project!

Sunday, February 7, 2010

The Annie Awards

Last night, my friend, a storyboard artist named Todd, took me to the Annie awards. He's awesome, and super talented, and you've probably experienced his work if you've seen Muppet Babies, Prince of Egypt, some of the Madagascar films, or if you go see How to Train Your Dragon. And he introduced me to some film makers that would be my favorite if they ever asked for big flashy credit.
It was strange - these were the people that illustrated my childhood. I met an artist from Beauty and the Beast - the first movie I ever saw in a movie theater. And another who did Aladdin and Toy Story. I have spent a majority of my time in life as these people's target audiences, and I loved to see how much they loved their work, their community, and hearing from an absolutely giddy audience member.
It's such a different, lovely world from Live Action, and it's someplace would like to be. I believe I am going to make it a point to learn to draw. I really loved last night, and it was awesome.
Minnie Mouse gave tribute to Mickey, who passed away this past year. Goofy and Donald helped, and it was truly one of the most beautiful moments I've ever seen. They changed their voices, and suddenly the whole of their persons changed into the characters I grew up knowing and loving. It was actual magic, and it shows the power film can have when truly passionate and caring people come together in a positive way!