Rehearsal, I Love You!

There is nothing I would rather do each day than rehearse. It is without a doubt the most fun I’ve ever had. Okay okay, to get it out of the way, I’m rehearsing for my movie “Thirsty Guy” that I’m shooting late in October. We have four primary cast members, and the four of us rehearse Saturday and Sunday for at least two hours.

Forget the script. I wrote 35 drafts of that sucker but now that it’s done it does me little good. We’ve read through it a couple times, we know what happens, so that’s good. But then we get on our feet, and all of a sudden that script feels a little restraining. We go through a scene and feel where it works and doesn’t work, and then I say “no scripts!” and we just go where our hearts tell us. We go in one direction and if something doesn’t click, one of the actors will decide to go in another direction, and we bump around through all kinds of situations until we find one that works. And that’s where having good actors with instincts and imaginations comes crucial. Our cast is close and trusting of each other and each one has great instincts. So we know when something isn’t right, and lots of things aren’t right.

My comedy is like New Orleans jazz. I may be the leader of the band, sure, but my trombone player plays a mean solo and the guy on base never skips a beat. We have the basic structure of the scene and know the event, and from there we wing it. As long as we stay in the right key it’s all good. And it’s never the same way twice. Today we rehearsed a scene through and through upwards of ten times, and each time it wasn’t just different, but wildly different, until by the end we’d sort of come to a good point. I love that. And what we arrived at nearly unrecognizable from what was on the page, except the basic event is still intact.

When you were a kid did you ever play make-believe with your friends? That’s what we do. Yesterday an actor who is my friend, Ken, and I rehearsed by climbing a tree and pretending that we were surrounded by wolves. Which of us would sacrifice ourselves to save the other? It wasn’t technically rehearsal, I guess, but it was really fun and readied us for comedy. I haven’t done that sort of thing with another person since I was a kid.

What’s also helpful is practicing physical comedy. At the beginning or end of rehearsals, we’ll work on basic tumbling techniques or basic stage combat. Sometimes one of us will come up with a great bit that we can use in the movie. One thing I think is missing from comedy today is this sort of training. Physical comedy is an art like dance. If you fall wrong, you could lose the laugh or hurt yourself. You gotta be in touch with your body.

I do think a danger is over-rehearsing. Fortunately we don’t rehearse to perfect a scene, we rehearse to find it. But I am aware that if we find something that really works, it’s best to leave it alone than to pound it into the ground. Today we found the right notes in a scene that requires some pantomime, and I’m not likely to rehearse that scene again until we shoot.

If I could rehearse five days a week for 6 hours a day I’d be a happy man (that is, if there is an actual movie we are rehearsing for). However in the future I’d like to do my rehearsing on set with the camera rolling. But that’s likely a few years from now. For the time being I’ll focus on making this movie the best it can be.

Simplify, Simplify, Simplify

Making it simple aint all that simple.

I suspect what I just wrote applies to many facets of life – or even life itself – but since I don’t have one of those I’m applying it to something I do know: writing. In setting out to write my script about a thirsty guy in the desert, one of my main goals was to write a simple story. Dude is in the desert, needs a drink – simple, right? After writing 35 drafts of the script and taking 70 pages of notes, I can definitively say the answer is no.

The story started out as a sequence of gags, then took on some form of story structure, then a whole slew of different story structures. I wrote enough material to make three or four short films, maybe even enough for a TV movie. I started writing last October, so what is that, nearly a year? Yikes. For a short film. I even shot the dang thing once. Anyways, there were periods where I yelled and screamed and punched my pillow and tore my clothes and went into general disarray, and there were good times too. But never a settling feeling. At no point during that year was I honestly pleased. A joke wasn’t right. Too many characters. Story not simple enough. Story not simple enough. Story not simple enough.

Simplicity is engaging. And it lasts. “Rocky” is simple. Comedy especially requires the utmost simplicity. You learn doing stand-up – an extra word kills the joke. And putting story into comedy is delicate. You have to put story first. It’s fundamental. I used to hate that, but now I love it. But it’s gotta be the right story, and it has to be honest. If comedy isn’t honest, it’s dead. Roger Ebert wrote about this in his “funny hat” theory. One kind of movie has a character wearing a funny hat, and the funny hat is the joke. The other kind has a character wearing a funny hat, and the reason why he’s wearing the hat is the joke. Can you guess which one is more honest? I have struggled in my immaturity by having a joke dictate my character’s behavior instead of allowing them to behave honestly.

The easiest thing in the world to do is write a character who behaves honestly. The hard part is inserting the humor. If you can marry the two, you get a star on Hollywood Boulevard.

I just watched some of the commentary on “Groundhog’s Day”, and in it Harold Ramis tells of how Bill Murray’s only request for direction in a given scene was if he was “good Phil” or “bad Phil”. That is simple. He wasn’t asking if his character was recalling the memories of a lost lover while still relishing in the joy of the moment.

Anyways I finally got my script written. It’s at the point where when I think of it, I am not unsettled at all. When I think of it I’m not even excited. I’m calm. I know that it is good, and it is time to start rehearsing and bringing it to life. I almost gave up on it several times. Glad I didn’t. The characters are honest and the story is simple. And I think it will be funny. We shoot at the end of October so I guess I’ll know then.

One Door Closes, Another Opens

Oh how I long to make this movie...

I was going to make the movie of my life. It was a simple film about a guy who was thirsty in the desert, and couldn’t find a drink. It represented my best efforts at crafting comedy and telling a story. I’ve actually already shot the movie once, back in fall 2008, but it wasn’t quite right. I mercilessly re-wrote the script, eventually totaling 30 drafts. I took fifty pages of notes. The script’s length? Fifteen pages. I had saved up as much money as I could, refraining from most anything extra-curricular. I reserved a movie ranch, went legit with the unions, even flirted with shooting on 35mm. But just like that, it was gone. And for a painfully obvious reason.

I had chosen to shoot this film in the high desert in the hottest month of the year. There was not enough money to protect the people or equipment involved. I had to listen to those around me as they implored me “don’t shoot until it cools!” So that’s it. Shooting has been postponed at least until October. So what now?

The funny thing is I had been getting hints that it wasn’t the best time to shoot. I had a nightmare that we were on set and everything was going wrong. I was unsure (still) about aspects of the script; whether they were funny enough or made enough sense for the story. Furthermore, a nagging thought had been creeping into my head: “you are not ready yet.”

How can I not be ready to shoot a short? I’ve shot tons of them, along with three feature films for goodness sake! Well, that’s what the arrogant side of me thought. The honest side knew that even though I’ve shot volumes of footage, not much of it has been any good. I don’t feel like I’ve done a truly funny film yet, front to back. Or a great story. I like two things I’ve done: “For the Love of the Dame” and “The Photographer’s Muse”, and I am fond of “Preacher Man” mainly because of Kai Elle and how much fun it was to shoot. But if I haven’t even made one funny film, how I can expect to make a masterpiece?

When I was fourteen I went snow-boarding with my Church. It was the first such experience of my life. We paid for lessons, but mid-way through I decided I was ready and left them to make my first foray down the hills. This resulted in some rather amazing speed followed by my only concussion to date. I wasn’t ready for the hill, but I tackled it anyway. That’s who I am. So to avoid any more filmmaking concussions I’m going to go back to comedy 101. To where I started. In sketch comedy.

I have a heart for it right now. I’ve written eleven scripts that would be great 2-3 minute pieces. Now I’m going to shoot them. I’m not going for production values, I’m going for substance. I want to learn what’s funny, and hone my gifts them before trying anything bigger. And there are plenty of great actors I know, so might as well use them. So that’s that. In about a month I’m going to debut the first episode, and hopefully there will be one a week from then on.

Also thinking about cutting an album…

Can You Laugh For Ninety Minutes?

“Short films are only good to get your foot in the door. Features are where it’s at.”

I’ve had so many people tell me this, and they’re all right. There is no money in shorts. But I don’t feel like comedy translates well to 90 minutes. How come comedies rarely win Oscars? It’s not cause they get no respect, it’s cause they’re not usually much good. But our culture demands everything be between 80-120 minutes, so that’s what we get. A bunch of features with maybe a few good jokes surrounded by mediocrity.

A friend recently told me that animated television shows had made him laugh more than movies ever had. It’s easy to see why. Animation is not restricted to reality, and the shows are usually short. Breeding ground for comedy. Aqua Teen Hunger Force is hilarious in it’s 11 minute incarnations, but when stretched out to a feature it’s a disaster.

I think only a master of comedy should be allowed to make a feature. And there have been few masters. Even Chaplin, who I consider to be the master of master’s, never made a feature as consistently funny as his Mutual shorts or, say, Soldier Arms or A Dog’s Life.

So why on earth should I go about making a feature? At this point in my career, I am a novice. I know what I think is funny, and I know how to act okay, but I need so much more experience. My execution isn’t very good. If I write a gag I think is 100% funny, I can usually only milk about 50% of that for the screen. I don’t feel like I have absolute command of my style, both technically and artistically.

That being said, if a studio gave me 20 mil to go make a comedy, I would make a good one by today’s standards. But that’s not good enough. When I make a feature, I want it to be highly anticipated and hailed as one of the greats. In short, I want to already be a master.

I figure I have 3-5 years of making shorts before I do a feature. That is if I am fortunate enough to make a short every few weeks. How do you master something? By doing it again and again. But how can I afford to do that? Shorts aren’t gonna make any money! I’m not so sure. I think people are gearing more towards shorts. Youtube is rivaling the multiplex these days, and the comedies on that site are usually one joke, 30 second pieces similar to the ones the Lumiere brother’s did in the late 1800’s. But soon I think the audience will start demanding more quality, and then we’ll get back to liking short films again. Also I think it’s romantic to be trying to do something nobody is doing – trying to make a career making short films (or at least, for the short term).

The Art of Filmmaking

I bet if you took a study, you’d find that the average shot length has quickened decade by decade. If Darwin is correct, this means that quick-cuts and extreme close-ups are the ideal way to make a film. But through the years I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and am excited to be arriving at conclusions.

The popular thought is that film is a director’s medium. The camera goes where it goes. The writing can always be tighter, the camera can always be closer, the lighting more complex. Actors must hit their marks and say their lines with the proper rhythm’s, making for an easy edit. Technical mastery is preferred over excellent acting. And sure, in the end it’s always about the story.

But where is the freedom? It’s like the movies are made before anybody steps foot on set. Endless pre-production meetings decide just where each light will go, which angle will be used, how the shots will cut together, what lenses to use, must I go on? Usually the standard will involve a master, then punch in for a few over-the-shoulder’s and finally the ever-present close up. More talented directors will find other ways of telling their story, but it usually involves the same process. The reasoning is simple: if we are well planned, we can save a dime. But if film making were politics, then this method is awfully communistic. The day is planned with little room for experimentation. Sure, most directors are willing to experiment, but only to a point. The actors still have to play to the camera and hit their marks, lest the precious focus go soft. Depth of field, if you don’t know, is precious among filmmakers. I think it’s masturbatory. “Look at the focus that 135mm gets!” But unless you have a top-of-the-line focus puller, this is detrimental to actors, because they need to be at just the right millimeter to stay in focus.

Another big to-do is coverage. We gotta get that master to cut to, but the meat of the scene will be in the OTS’s or the close-ups. So we’ll move the camera around, re-light, and make the actors do it the same way they did it in the last shot. No, no, don’t change that line! How will it edit together? Hold on, did you raise your arm in the last take? Goodness fella, you gotta do it exactly the same way over and over again!

I’m beginning to hate coverage. Many times have I shot the heck out a scene, getting a plethora of angles, and in the editing room found myself captivated by the master shot. There’s just something natural about watching actors interact without breaking up the action. I feel that if a director and a DP are good enough, they should be able to pick one shot, make it look great, and let it last. If the picture looks good and the actors are good, isn’t that enough? You might not get all your masturbatory (yes, another reference but I swear it’s so true of film making) angles, but who cares? There’s something alive and real when actors are interacting uninterrupted. But because we as a society are weened on quick cuts between a million angles, we respond positively to movies like Quantum of Solace which provide sound and fury, but signify nothing.

As a director I want to provide the actors with the best possible environment to perform. This means deepening the focus, widening the shot, and giving them free reign. If you have good actors who can improvise, you can get gold you’d never find in a production meeting. Of course I am influenced because I’m a comedy maker, and improvisation is an essential ingredient to comedy. So instead of changing angles over and over again, I want to keep the camera planted and change the scene over and over again. Take after take, I want to see where it goes. Feel the rhythm, connect, experiment, discover. It never gets old. Not often do people complain on my sets when I do a million takes, because each one is (hopefully) different. This isn’t to say I’m not prepared; I always write at least ten drafts of the script, have storyboards ready, and a good vision of what I want. But there’s so much discovery on set that I can’t rely on what I’ve got planned. A movie set is a sacred ground where brilliance can happen at any time and the camera is there to capture it. I don’t want to take the magic out of it by rigidly scheduling the day.

I am guilty of not adhering to my theories. Of course, these theories have developed over the course of time and have just recently blossomed after my latest movie, “The Photographer’s Muse”, so I haven’t fully put them to practice. My feature “Candeo”, while having lots of long takes and wide shots, also had a lot of fancy camera moves and flashy angles, and a whole scene made of quick zooms and cuts. “Preacher Man” and “Photographer’s Muse” both use OTS’s and close-ups, sometimes very unimaginatively. But movie by movie, I’m getting away from it.

I should also say that some of my favorite movies employ the quick cut style. “City of God” being the ultimate example. And nobody really makes movies today like I like to make them. Woody Allen does, and he’s kind of perfected it. It’s no wonder so many of his movies have won Academy Awards for best performances.

I’m just trying to find the perfect way to shoot comedy.

The Onion News Isn’t Reliable At All!

I am outraged. Just like every other citizen in this country, I demand accurate news to keep me an informed member of society. So it was much to my chagrin when I picked up a copy of The Onion, a newspaper I had never heard of. The front page story was about a documentary on Mike Tyson. Okay, so first of all, why on earth is this front page news? I mean, sure the man is interesting, but unless the documentary offers video evidence of his alleged rape I think I’d rather read about some school bus being blown up in Iraq. But wait, that’s not all; the documentary apparently contains interviews with King Hippo and Soda Popinski – people who don’t actually exist! I remember Mr. Hippo and Mr. Popinski from the game “Mike Tyson’s Punch Out”, but even when I was a kid I was sure they didn’t exist in real life. No sir, Onion News, you’re not fooling this guy.

My skepticism led me to search through the Onion’s archives to see what other lascivious and fraudulent articles they’ve passed off as reporting. One report tickled my fancy: “Jerry Lewis Undergoes Emergency Gefloigel Surgery”. I am a big fan of Jerry Lewis, but I never knew he underwent such a surgery. They quoted the surgeon responsible for the surgery as saying, “We had to go in through Mr. Lewis’ schlaphlecky system, bypassing the oy-hayvel.” Now I was a liberal studies major in college, not a science major, but I’m sure there’s no such thing as an oy-havel. And for a high-profile man like Mr. Lewis to undergo such an unusual procedure, I was sure other papers would report it. I searched the archives of other respected newspapers, and so far I’ve found only the Onion reporting such a surgery. Furthermore, I searched wikipedia for “gefloigel” only to arrive at a dead end. As a fan of Mr. Lewis I say shame on you, The Onion. But this is only the start.

Being an avid basketball fan, I searched their sports archives to find, to my amazement, an article headlined “Majority Of Utah Jazz Players Have Never Heard Of Themselves”. Now I hate the jazz as much as the next sane man, but surely this cannot be accurate. With the exception of maybe Carlos Boozer, every player on that team must have the intelligence to at least be familiar with the basic image of themselves. Or maybe I’m giving the Jazz too much credit. Maybe the Onion was actually right on that one. But that doesn’t get them entirely off the hook!

One heartbreaking article detailed the rape and murder of a zookeeper by an unruly grizzly bear. How awful! However this is more like it, as I expect my news to turn my stomach inside out and make my view of the world bleaker. But as I read the report, I was shocked to find the article written with what was apparently a sense of humor! Check out this quote, and tell me I’m wrong: “This bear kept ‘bearing down,’ and Byrne just had to grin and ‘bear it’! Maybe Barry was mistaking him for his ‘honey!” How does that sentence show any respect for poor Mr. Byrne? The attitude at this paper disgusts me. You know I even found some articles that used swear words? Even the F word! An outrage!

If we band together we can bring this paper down. Because I, for one, will not stand for hilarious articles that keep me smiling day to day throughout my miserable existence.

http://www.theonion.com

Abbott and Costello Meet Me

The boys.

When I was young my parents put on a movie about two idiots getting involved with Dracula, the Wolf Man, and Frankenstein. They loved it, we loved it. That movie shaped not only my views of comedy, but also defined those monsters for me. I didn’t care about Dracula aside from the fact that him slowly opening his coffin sent Lou Costello into hysterics. I loved how mean Bud Abbott was to his best friend. The irony of their friendship delighted me. Why are they friends? What are they doing in these situations? Bud Abbott seemed like he could be a productive human being, a respected man. But here he was with this idiot. Their relationship still seems to me to be a comic riff on the George/Lenny relationship in “Of Mice and Men”, only without reason for it.

One night in sixth grade there was an Abbott and Costello movie on. They were in the desert, and a skeleton started after Costello to hysterical results. I watched on as another one of their movies came on. Then another. I stayed up all night watching one after another, as the duo ran into all manner of creatures and mystics. I knew that I liked them, and I liked their style. I would have called myself a fan. But that was it.

Then, when I became a junior in high school, I really got a good listen to their legendary routine “Who’s On First”. The words built upon each other to make this sort of comic house of cards, climaxing in a crescendo of confusion, and the result was that I became a student of their craft. The timing was too perfect, the performance was obviously partly improvised, and routine was just genius. So obsessed I became. I watched as many movies of theirs as I could, and would watch them over and over, day after day, memorizing their routines and absorbing their behavior. I introduced my friend Andrew to them, and when he too got taken by them, we started getting the itch to perform. We did. We performed on stage, on the radio, and even on the streets of Waikiki. He would play Costello and I would play Abbott. We even developed our own routines, though they all had the exact same structure as A&C’s.

For the last time, Who is on first!

They influenced the way I performed in class. I got good grades in math because I would perform the classic 7×13=28 routine. In other classes I would be allowed ten minutes at the end to get up and do a routine. When I got home, I would read “Lou’s On First” or watch their Colgate Comedy Hour specials until it was time to go play basketball. The obsession, and I mean full blown obsession, lasted more than two years. Only Calvin and Hobbes can claim they’ve stolen more of my attention. I have Abbott and Costello posters on my wall, the largest collection of Abbott and Costello videos and DVD’s on my shelf, and several books. So it was with some surprise that I walked into a job interview today to see the walls parading classic Abbott and Costello memorabilia.

The job interview was for an editing position, one I particularly needed. I made mention of the A&C gear to the receptionist and she said “oh yeah, the owner is Lou Costello’s granddaughter. You’re interviewing with her.” I tried my best to keep a calm demeanor. Then when I was called into her office, I gushed. There were two other attractive women in the office with her, and I think they found it charming. I went into my history with the duo, about how I have all their routines memorized and how I’ve performed them and blah blah blah. I don’t think it mattered what my resume looked like or how good my reel was. She’s going to give me a shot. It doesn’t mean it’s a job, just a shot. But it’s enough for me to prove myself. And I need that now more than ever. I’ve been contemplating recently that two or three more weeks without work and I could be out on the street. So in some small way, Abbott and Costello might have come swooping to my rescue at just the right time.

Thanks guys.

Eras

1830’s-1890’s London. The time of Charles Dickens. When a street urchin would comb the streets looking for suckers. Where tenements stood next to barber shops and butchers. Where a child who fell out of his pram might fly away to Neverland.

1860’s-1880’s America. Boom towns spring up across the West. Explorers, families, southern gentlemen head out west to find prosperity and adventure. Lawlessness creates a male-dominated society governed by street justice. Heroes and villains are immortalized.

1910’s America. Vaudeville reaches its peak. The Catskills and borscht belt are home to many a comic. London pours in it’s Karno troup which leads to the success and fame of Charlie Chaplin and Stan Laurel. Broadway is America’s highest form of entertainment.

1920’s California. Hollywood blossoms into its golden age. Everybody tries to be a genius, and some succeed. A time of promise.

1930’s. Great depression. A forest fire that cleans up after the roaring twenties. A dust bowl accompanies the depression, making America a desperate place. Men return to the fields to work and survive. A time of unparalleled hardship in the history of America.

1940’s World War II. The greatest evil earth may ever see threatened the safety of the planet. The good guys won, the bad guys went home with nothing.

1960’s America. A time of rebellion. Big things happened. Concerts were staged on the roofs of buildings. Teenagers around America flocked to San Fransisco wearing flowers in their hair. Change was on the forefront of America’s conscious. A transition from the old ways to the new. And a group of four musicians peaked at the right moment and created an awe-inspiring string of music that still hasn’t aged a bit.

2010’s America. We’re finally shaken for the first time in forty years. People’s lives change. We no longer live in the manner of which we have become accustomed. Most everybody is poor and struggling to survive, but they dream again. In other words, things finally return to normal.

?

My Christmas Gifts To You

Christmas is about a lot of things. Obviously, the birth of Christ. And then giving. Lots of giving. And spending, hopefully. But definitely giving. So in that spirit, here are my gifts to you.

#1: Peter and Wendy.

This is a book about a girl named Wendy and a boy named Peter Pan, if you’ve heard of them. It’s a wonderful book. If you’ve only seen a big screen adaptation, or a play, I suggest you pick this book up right away and read it. J.M. Barrie as the narrator speaks to us the reader as if he’s sitting beside us recounting war stories. He juggles different adventures, not sure which one he’d like to tell us next. It’s very refreshing. Also very much for adults. In fact, Barrie seems to be speaking to adults specifically. In one of my favorite quotes of all time, he writes to us of the Neverland: “We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.” The Neverlands are available to children, because they still have their imagination. When we grow up, our playfulness turns into a work ethic, and responsibility, and life. This is logical, of course. If we’re lucky, that work ethic will turn into a profitable job, and Lord willing, a good family. But we’ll never land on those Neverland shores again.

Peter Pan is not what you’d think in this book. He is, as my sister puts it, a great character study. What if a child never grew up? What would he turn out like? Well, children are innocent and playful, but they are also self-centered and prideful, especially little boys. So if you take those characteristics and have em’ hang around for years without developing any maturity, what would you come up with? Barrie argues that you get an egocentric maniac, a totally self-centered little devil who’s so occupied with himself that he simply forgets everyone else around him. Peter Pan is gifted with many abilities. He’s athletic, smart, he can fly, he can impersonate anything. But he’s legitimitatly not cute. He kills, and then he forgets. By the end of the book, Tinkerbell is dead and Pan has completely forgotten her. He’s forgotten Hook. The only person he remembers is Wendy.

Wendy is a fascinating character herself. All of them are. The world of Neverland is fascinating. The details are wonderful. I feel like I live in that world when I read it. The texture is there. The mythology is comforting. And, maybe I’m not alone here, but the book feels like me. It feels like my dreams. And I’m hoping it will have the same effect on you. This is why this is my first Christmas gift.

#2: I Dream of Jeannie

Are you familiar with this series? It’s wonderful. My favorite television show. I’ll give you three good reasons. 1: Barbara Eden is h-h-h-ot. 2: It’s funny. 3: The sexual tension is about as good as it gets. See, those three things are basically what I base my movies around. A hot girl, sexual tension, and the comedy that springs from that. They handle all three with remarkable creativity in “Jeannie”.

Okay, I know, this series was a response to “Bewitched”, which is a funny show itself. But “Jeannie” is superior because it’s more clever. Okay, so tell me if this isn’t a guys dream: you’re an astronaut, you drive a cool car and live in a cool house, and you have a half-naked blonde bombshell hovering around granting your every wish. But what makes the series so funny is that Major Nelson, the astronaut in question, isn’t some hedonist who takes advantage of Jeannie, he’s a moral guy trying to work a good job and live a good life. The chaos that Jeannie brings upon him tests his every wit. And he has a lot of wit. One of the funnier aspects of this series is the relationship between Nelson and Doctor Bellows. I guess I could write on and on about this, but I won’t for now. It’s a truly great show, and a comforting one.

#3: Calvin and Hobbes

My next blog post will be all about Calvin and Hobbes. I will save my ponderings until then. But for now, this is the best Christmas present I can offer. But oh wait, there is still one more!

A DOG!!!

My Favorite Movies

Movies are very personal for me. Sure, my favorite movie going experiences have been in crowded theaters where the audience was into it, but often times I like to just sit by myself and absorb a film. My world this way is very small. Sometimes I’m surprised to find people like the same movies as I do. Anyways, I have tons of favorite movies, but three stand out: Being There, The Circus, and The Plague Dogs. These three are my favorites because they take me somewhere, and they have a certain feel that no other film replicates. When I pop them in the DVD player, it’s comforting, like I’m about to visit with old friends.

Being There is the smartest movie I’ve ever seen. On the surface it tells a very innocent tale, and it’s charming. But when you look closer you realize it’s one of the more cynical and cruel movies. In a brilliant film, there are moments of even greater brilliance, like the famous exit of the old man’s house to “Also sprach Zarathustra“, the cab ride to “Basketball Jones”, and the entire eulogy/ending. I don’t want to get into performances. Yes, Peter Sellers and everybody else does great. But occasionally a film is more important than the performances, and this is one of them. The real stars of the movie are the director (Hal Ashby) and the writer, Jerry Kosinski. The last shot has been discussed and debated for 30 years, and Ashby must be laughing. I think the proper approach to this movie is not to try and figure it out, but to appreciate it. There’s no way you can explore the depths this movie reaches. It’s unfathomable. And that’s the point.

The Circus is the best Chaplin ever did. I know, I know, that’s heresy right? City Lights! Gold Rush! Modern Times! Okay, okay, those are great films and I admire them very much. Watched them tons of times and am baffled by the genius of them. But he never did better than the film he hated, The Circus. He doesn’t even mention it in his autobiography. It was hell to make. I don’t need to go into why, it’s been well documented, let’s just say that his struggles, both personally and professionally during that time, were enough to turn his hair from black to white. But the movie is about what it means to be funny, and what it means to be an artist. More is said on the art of comedy in that eighty minutes than any other film I’ve seen. But “The Circus” is actually the least overtly philosophical of his features. This might be why it’s more powerful. Everything serves the story. There is no out-and-out sentimentality (Chaplin’s weakness). The end is beautiful, and poetic, and sad, but bittersweet. And beyond that, it’s just funny. The Circus contains three of the funniest scenes put on film: Chaplin in the lion cage, Chaplin at the fair, and Chaplin on the tight rope. That last one is the best I’ve seen. Chaplin was a master of building comedy on top of comedy. He didn’t let a joke come and go, he let it come and then he nursed it. And on that tight rope he has so many things happening, and all of them are funny, and at the same time he’s making his statement about who an artist really is. My goodness I love Chaplin. I’ll have to write another blog about him soon.

The Plague Dogs, I cherish. Not too many people know about this one. It has a frightening beginning and a wonderful end. But why is the ending wonderful? It’s sad. Devastating. But at the same time it’s a happy ending, because the dogs, like the song says, don’t feel no pain no more. How am I supposed to react? I’ve been watching these wonderful animals endure cruel and brutal things for eighty minutes as they try their best to survive and be free. As Rowf says at the beginning, “why do they do it Snitter? I’m not a bad dog.” Rowf doesn’t understand why people hate him. He doesn’t understand why the world is so cruel. He didn’t do anything to deserve this. Snitter is hopelessly optimistic, he doesn’t understand what’s happening around him. His brain has been tampered with. And even though he has spells of madness due to this tampering, his basic character is still there. He’s a sweet, good natured dog who wants to believe that people are good at heart and will help them eventually. He’s a tragic dog, confused by his brain surgery and he comes to believe that all the bad that’s happening is his fault. Rowf, the realist, and Snitter, the dreamer. Their relationship is the core of the film, and it develops in the most interesting of ways. By the end, as Rowf and Sinitter are swimming out to their deaths, Snitter is losing his dream. But Rowf won’t let him. “Stay with me. I’ll get you there.” So how am I supposed to react to this? My instinctual reaction is to cry. I cannot talk about this film without crying. I am being honest. I’ve tried to tell my mother and sister about it, but have been reduced to tears. I don’t even try anymore. It’s too emotionally devastating. But I’m happy for the dogs, because they are free from the cruelty of life. The fact that I feel happiness makes me feel terrible. How can I feel any hint of gladness that these dogs have died? Is it a mercy killing? What is it about humanity that makes me feel this way? That’s the worst part. But what’s even more touching is the relationship between Rowf and Snitter at that moment. I don’t think Snitter even realizes it, but Rowf has become his brother. They are no longer cell mates at the testing facility, they are no longer hunting partners in the wild, but they are best friends. Snitter doesn’t have the capacity to realize how much Rowf loves him. And it’s touching to see the cold, calculating Rowf become protective of his friend. To see them overcome their fears and dream together for a better place is wonderful. And they do find a better place. Because all dogs go to heaven baby!