Silence of the Unenlightened

Don't we wish. Really. Don't we wish that the unenlightened would remain silent and people would research, read, and research some more before shooting their mouths off? Wouldn't it be lovely if BEFORE somebody posted something on the internet or forwarded some rumor or thrashing on social media, they checked it out first? I guess most people just aren't wired that way. But writers are. Or, I thought they were.

Many years ago (2007 to be exact), Terry Rossio was speaking with several writers over dinner in Austin, Texas, about creative control and told us a cautionary tale of a visible and known critic who gave two thumbs down to a film citing the fatally flawed screenplay, a piece of work the critic never set eyes on. Terry urged us to remember that few people who criticize writers in this way have any real concept of how the process works. Otherwise, they would not make such uninformed judgments.

Fast forward to present day and a particularly scathing Lone Ranger review by Michael Phillips who seems to lay everything he doesn't like about the film squarely at the feet of Terry Rossio without ever seeing a draft of any screenplay or, evidently, learning about the film's story process or finding out when the writing of the film began with Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio or when Justin Haythe came on board or who was holding the creative reins when the film was shot.

A werewolf plot line? Really, Michael? A werewolf?

Maybe the film feels schizophrenic because the work of the replaced writers was morphed into the work of a new writer with a different vision. Maybe you had an actor on the set adding his own personal touches, some of which worked and some that did not. Maybe the film is precisely what Jerry Bruckheimer and Gore Verbinski wanted it to be. Maybe the horse was really the one doing all the writing, producing, and directing. Who knows. Oh, wait. Michael Phillips does. A replaced writer is to blame and he knows this without ever having set eyes on a screenplay.

QED, Mr. Rossio. QED.

I don't have a problem with anyone saying what they liked and did not like about a film. That's what we do as movie-watchers and sometimes we even walk out spoiling it for people in line with our loved her, hated him, this sucked, that didn't, and can you believe they stuck a horse in a tree? Wait ‘til you get in the car, people!

What does bother me, though, is when people wag their fingers about things they didn't take the time to investigate and spread assumptions that other people will accept as fact and then also spread without checking. This is particularly heinous if you are a high profile finger-wagger.

I saw The Lone Ranger and while I have very strong opinions (primarily disappointed that the violence is not implied enough for me to take my seven year old nephew), I will see it again since I have a habit of getting lost in a particularly exquisite soundtrack and forgetting to watch the film. This happened more than once in The Lone Ranger. But, I do actually know who to blame for that. Thank you, Hans Zimmer. I wag my finger at you, sir.

Meanwhile, I just had a film idea I need hurry up and draft on paper. It's a western with – wait for it – werewolves!

Screenwriting Bucket List

The floodgates are closed. The Nicholl application deadline is now a thing of the past and I am curious how many entries there are. Since I"m sure it is a ridiculously high number in the 7000-ish range, I have long since given up any hope of winning the thing. I would, however, like to advance before I die. It's at the top of my screenwriting bucket list, a list that is rather short and contains goals that are unlikely in my real world. But in my sometimes delusional and often contrived reality, I would like to ---

• Advance in the Nicholl at least once.
• Attend a big Hollywood premier and sit in the audience.
• Watch an epic beast of a film get shot.
• Hear one of my favorite screenwriters say about my work, "what a great story".

If I reach those goals, I have a secondary list.

• See my own film get made.

If I reach THAT goal, I do have yet another list.

• Witness a great actor begging on his hands and knees to portray my character.
• Author a screenplay that gets caught up in a bidding war.
• Receive a phone call from Hans Zimmer or James Horner saying he just finished my score.

Once I'm dead, there is still one more list.

• Be remembered by my children as somebody who left a positive footprint on this earth. 

You know what? I think my last goal may actually be the only one that really matters. After all, we only have one life, one earth, and two feet. But yeah, I'm one of those 7000-ish. I don't really believe in luck but best of luck anyway to all my fellow screenwriting buddies who entered!

Thou Art Worthy

A project worthy of your extra $5.00 should you have any money left after you pay your bills, put gas in your car, tithe at church and retrieve your wallet from the kids who are pillaging it for summer swimming and movie money, Prodigy is a short film about a little girl's soaring imagination and how an honest love of music affects us, regardless of our individual talents.

The prospect of this film touches me in a very real and personal way. Music heals the soul and moves people like nothing else. When I was growing up, writing was my escape and my salvation but music was my counselor and best friend. Scary thought but I can tell you that in the depths of my childhood despair, it was music that brought me joy and the prospect of a bright future.

Hans Zimmer refers to music as the wings of a film. Try to imagine Star Wars without John Williams. Imagine Titanic without James Horner. Imagine Pirates of the Caribbean without Hans Zimmer. (Speaking of POTC, if you've not heard the Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides soundtrack featuring Rodrigo y Gabriela, do it now! Track 4, The Pirate that Should Not Be, has heart racing Spanish guitar that brought tears to my eyes.)

I am, at present, playing the flute in an orchestra WAY ABOVE my skill level. I joined late with a borrowed instrument because mine is loaned out to my aunt so she can teach private lessons. I have two other flutes but they're not in any shape for stage. My music was incomplete and not entirely transposed into the correct key. I'd only had it a few days when I attended my ONE rehearsal that covered only the second act. Everyone in the room flew through the music like they'd been playing it their whole lives while I .. well, I was like a lost lamb in the rapid fire of key signature and time changes. It was pitiful.

And I loved EVERY. SINGLE. MINUTE!

We rehearse with the cast on Thursday. I am not qualified to be part of this production so I must work ten times harder than anyone else to be one tenth as good. Regardless of my talent or lack of talent, it is a glorious experience!

Music, my friends, expresses the inexpressible. I hope Lisa Ford gets all her funding for Prodigy. Judy Hyman, an Emmy award-winning violinist, is composing the score. I'm confident these two ladies can illustrate what music does for the soul much better than I can. It's not about talent.

I'm the proof.

Any Man That Falls Behind

How well do you remember the pirate code from the first Pirates of the Caribbean film, Curse of the Black Pearl? Well, maybe I remember it a little too well.

Went to see Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides yesterday with my brother and son even though it doesn't officially release until the 20th. Facebook held a free fan premier and after listening to the soundtrack, I jumped at the chance to take a familiar ride that I hoped was as fresh and new as the music. I was not disappointed.

Being searched at the door for cameras was unexpected but the moment they finished poking through my handbag and running a wand up my legs, I ditched my brother and son and made a mad run for my favorite seats. You know the ones. Right there behind the wheelchair spaces where you can prop your feet up on the rails? Well, I got 'em! Three seats. Right there. You betcha. I didn't wait in line three hours to crane my neck beside the exit sign. But did my men folk appreciate my considerate dash?

NO!

My son seemed offended and demanded an accounting of what I would have done had he texted me that he'd been detained at the door for having a knife in his pocket. What nerve. I assured him I had a plan. I took out my phone and sent him this sweet little message.

"See you in 141 minutes, son. Love ya."