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December 22, 2011

Christmas with the Kids

Always in the background of our experience at Vancouver Film School is the fact that my kids are a thousand miles away.  Seems like just yesterday we were all saying goodbye, Christmas feeling like an eternity into the future.

Then, boom: four and a half months have passed, we're on a plane back to Calgary, and I'm wondering where the time went!

It hasn't exactly been a pleasure cruise for any of us, being apart this way.  There have been a lot of goofy Skype sessions, long-distance phone updates, emotional texts, and even a few angry Facebook inbox messages.  Yet we've managed to collectively keep the communication alive and the relationships tight.

James is paving a brilliant future for himself, both at school (Mr. Sovan's assistant in the kitchen) and in his new job (chef's assistant @ Chopstix).

Jenni is establishing herself as an independent working woman with wicked business sense (@ Amato Gelato).

And Ricky is killing it at school, nailing great grades and carrying himself with a confidence, kind heart, and sense of humour that makes this guy one proud papa.

In our many conversations over the past few months, it's been exciting to hear about their experiences at school, at home, with friends, and now with their first official jobs.  Books read, music discovered, friends helped, spelling bees entered, milestones achieved.  They call and ask for help on their resumes.  Now they're telling me about the people they work with.  Now they're telling me about the latest shenanigans with their buds. And underneath it all, the unmistakable sound of them growing up, coming into their own, taking responsibility for their futures, and having fun doing it.  What more could a parent want?  I don't know if they'll ever realize how proud they make me, but I think they get the idea.  Simply put, they frickin' amaze me.  Anybody would be lucky to have kids like these!

Day 1 - We land at the Calgary airport on the night of December 15, where Jenni and the ever-hospitable Brandi Flynn meet us.  Long, four-month-in-waiting hugs (and a couple of tears) abound.  In the back seat I put my arm around Jen and hear all the latest news.  She's even more beautiful than the last time I saw her, if that's possible, and I soak up every word.  Back at Brandi and Steve's place, James and Ricky are firmly ensconced in a couch playing Modern Warfare 3.  I expected nothing less.  More hugs and kisses, and this early Christmas weekend has officially begun.


Day 2 - After a busy day of movies, more games, and general tomfoolery, I pick up a rental car and Jenni and I make our way to the Olive Garden, one of our fave spots.  She has bruschetta, I have a chicken caesar salad.  We top it off with a ridiculously tasty chocolate cheesecake filled with mousse and topped with chocolate chips, et cetera, et cetera.  Full of sugar, we make up for lost time, talking about everything from music to love to drugs and other things - you know, typically father/daughter chit chat. It's wonderful. Neither of us wants it to end.  So we stretch it out and go mall hopping before heading back home, singing and laughing all the way.  A truly magical night!  After the kids go to bed, Mel and I disappear for some last minute shopping and are up till three a.m. wrapping presents.  Tomorrow morning will be our own personal Christmas.

Day 3 ("Christmas") - As per tradition, the kids are up before we are. Bleary-eyed, we make our way to the living room and the ceremonies begin!  It's chocolate!  It's a book!  It's a movie!  It's make-up!  It's more chocolate!  Grandad arrives just in time and more presents are opened.  Guitars come out and are played. It's a ton of laughter and bally-hoo.  And then, it's a nap.  Z-z-z-z-z-z-z.  And then we're off to Aunt Stacey's for Turkey dinner.  She goes waaaay out of her way to make sure everyone is warmly welcomed, entertained and summarily stuffed.  We cap the night with a two-hour game of charades before slipping into tryptophan- and laughter-induced comas for the night.  

Day 4 - From Stacey's, we head off to Indigo Books at the Cross Iron Mills mall where each of the kids has $33.33 to spend, care of Aunty Barb.  Six books later, Jenni and Ricky disappear with Mel to visit Tara and Randy in Airdrie, while Grandad, James and I make our way to A&W for burgers, root beer and a deeply political discussion about the future of Western civilization.  You know, standard guys-out convo.  It's great to get this time with James, and having Grandad is a wicked bonus!  Then it's back to Tara's to play some game I've never seen before that tests our ability to dance and willingness to completely embarrass ourselves.  (I take enough pictures to implicate everyone.)  Grandad says his goodbyes and we wish him a safe trip back to Edmonton.  En route back to Calgary, we all stop at Jenni's new place of work (Amato Gelato) before Ricky and I separate for our one-on-one time at Petland.  Twenty budgies, one cat and several fish later, we head to Future Shop where Ricky drops some of his Christmas money on the latest "Harry Potter" Blu-Ray.  He's a little short (financially, I mean) and I slip him five bucks to complete the sale.  He offers a back massage as repayment.  And that's why we have kids!

Day 5 - Our plane doesn't leave till three so we pack in as much as we can together.  Gathering our wares from Brandi's basement, we travel back to Airdrie where we watch Ricky compete in his school spelling bee, take a tour of the Bert Church High School kitchen where James proudly works, and then jet to Amato Gelato one more time to finally sample the seventy thousand or so flavours they have there.  Mmm mmm good!  Then, wishing it wasn't so, we drive the kids back home and say our goodbyes.  It's been a truly spectacular weekend, more full and fun than we'd even imagined!

Let's be honest, none of us like the fact that we're not living in the same town.  This was always going to feel weird, no matter how good the reasons.  But as a wise friend who's been through this himself once told me would happen, we've found a way to make it work.  Bottom line: if the love is there and the relationships are strong, time and geography don't have to change that.  So long as they're nurtured in the spaces between, family bonds and true friendships never fade.  If anything, in some ways, they get stronger.

I can't wait to be close to them again.  But in the meantime, as this Christmas proved, we're never really that far away in our hearts.  Turns out, the best cliches are true!

November 25, 2011

VFS Progress Report #2: The First Three Months

Four days shy of month three.

In some ways, the time seems to have passed by like a Japanese bullet train at rush hour, just like some said it would.  In other ways, it feels like the days and weeks have followed one another at a pace that my sage grandmother, when discussing the passage of time in her own life at 87, called "just right".

If time is, at least in part, a measuring stick of what we have and haven't accomplished in life, VFS has helped us make extraordinarily good use of it.  On Orientation day (August 22), I blogged my strong belief that VFS couldn't be expected to work miracles, that I had to grab every opportunity to write or network when it strolled by, and that ultimately, my VFS experience would be as good as I made it.

Was I right? Here's how it has gone down so far:

1. "VFS can't be expected to work miracles." 
By miracles, I mean the magical ability to turn me into a brilliant, award-winning writer, or the bestowal of a long, satisfying career upon completion of my program.  No school has that kind of power and no one at VFS ever pretended it did.  Having said that, I've been blown away by what VFS has managed to pull off so far.  Time and experience have clearly helped the departmental powers that be to build a solid, low-fat, high-output program.  Compressing a two-year program into one, we're definitely stretched, but it never feels like too much, partly because all the classes fit together in such a clearly integrated, "wax-on-wax-off" kind of way, and partly because the assignments are just so much darned fun and targeted to help us build a kick-ass portfolio. 

Plus, the instructors are ridiculously invested in students.  And let's be honest, they could easily half-mile it if they wanted to.  These are successful, busy writers in their own right - i.e. they've got shit to do.  A few nods here and there wrapped in feigned interest might pass with a good number of students.  But this crew steadfastly refuses to take the easy way out.  No matter how many story ideas or pitches they listen to, no matter how many synopses, outlines, beat sheets, or scripts they read, they keep coming to class and workshop fresh and as committed to our work as we are.  I've been to two universities and half a dozen other post-secondary programs, and I've never seen instructors go above and beyond like this.

And I haven't even talked about the constant stream of mentorships, guest speakers, contests and events VFS offers, none of it window dressing.  If we don't walk out of here significantly better (and better-connected) writers than when we came, it's won't be VFS's fault.  So miracles, no.  Ridiculous opportunity and development - hell, ya!

2. "I have to grab every opportunity to write and network that comes my way."
The great thing about having theoretically lived half my life already is that I've discovered how rare certain opportunities tend to be.  I mean, when else am I going to spend a full year surrounded by other writers, story editors, and writing mentors, many of whom have been writing successfully for years and are actively connected to industry - all freely and constantly available to talk and workshop with, give feedback, and help me build my chops and confidence?  When else am I going to be able to write all day long, month after month, building skill and a body of work, free from the encumbrances of "normal life"?  When else am I going to get to collaborate not only with other writers, but with directors, producers, visual and sound designers, and actors on projects with virtually no creative limitations, in an environment designed to help us make our cinematic dreams come true?  The correct answer is, "Probably never".

So I decided from the beginning to keep my ears and eyes open to every email, poster, or whisper in the wind announcing that an opportunity to write or collaborate was near, and then jump on it in a full-body choke-hold.  Whether it's VFS's regular Compendium production, private student productions, open pitch sessions, opportunities to hear and meet guest speakers (regardless of the department hosting them), regularly-offered elective classes or chances to score music, I'm on it.

Yes, I am trying to be a hero: the hero of my own life, thank you very much, Mr. Campbell! I paid twenty grand to be here and it's all I've ever wanted to do!  I'm going to miss out on a chance to get better and meet the right people because I'm a little tired?  Somebody call a wahmbulance, but not for me.  It's for the guy sitting next to me who plans on crying into his beer ten years from now, whining about what "could have been".    

J.J. Abrams' new series, "Alcatraz", in production outside VFS
3. "Ultimately, my VFS experience will be as good as I make it."
To succeed at VFS, paying attention, building relationships, and meeting deadlines are critical.  Early on, I developed tools and a process that would streamline everything, from plot and beat sheet creation to character development to pitching. No point in re-inventing the wheel with each assignment. 

At the start of each term, I've clarified the objectives and outcomes of each class to avoid getting lost in a sea of "to-dos" and to make sure assignments get to teachers on time. 

And there's no replacement for building strong, genuine, relatively ego-free relationships with everybody.  And by everybody, I mean everybody - students, teachers, people from different departments, guests, and the lady who cleans the bathroom.  I don't think I need to explain why that's so important.

Beyond those chestnuts, it's about quality and volume.  Generating a lot of ideas, throwing them against the wall to see which ones stick, and then producing like a freakin' rabbit.  "Write well, write lots," has become my mantra.  Lucky for us, VFS throws us so many assignments, we couldn't end the year with a meagre portfolio if we tried.  To date, between class assignments and extracurricular projects, I've completed or am working on:
  1. Four feature screenplay outlines, one in development ("Can We Meet?", "Full Circle", "World On Fire", "Early Retirement")
  2. One original short screenplay ("From the Bench")
  3. One adapted short screenplay ("Enveloped", based on a story by fellow student Nicole Jerick)
  4. One TV spec teleplay ("Big Bang Theory")
  5. One animated spec teleplay ("Kid vs. Kat")
  6. One original animated series treatment ("Street Bosses")
  7. Two short stories ("Howard", "A Date Interrupted")
  8. Five VFS Compendium short screenplays ("The T Party", "Beating the Beast", Split Decision", "Facing the Queen", "The Garden of Eaten")
  9. One original short screenplay for a student film (in production)
  10. A second original short screenplay for a student film (in development)
That's fourteen working concepts or finished products in less than three months.  And I was worried about whether I'd come out of VFS with enough on my resume.  But we've all got a story like that.  All of us are going to walk out of here with a suitcase full of surprises when we're done. How many suprises, and how well they help set us up for the future, is our call.

November 4, 2011

Tatchell & Jennewein Inspire Screenwriters









Guest post originally published on Vancouver Film School's Blog (Friday, November 4, 2011)

During the recent Writing for Film & Television Two-Weekend Intensive, VFS played host to two special guest speakers: alumna/Oscar nominee Terri Tatchell and Advisory Board member Jim Jennewein.  

The Two-Weekend Intensive was a chance for aspiring screenwriters to experience a barrage of screenwriting tools, techniques, and exercises.  Some attendees responded by saying “the instructors are wonderful” and that it “exceeded every possible expectation”.  We hope the weekends were the beginning of something much bigger for everyone involved. 

Guest Post by Paul Donnett

Even for students who’ve mortgaged an arm and a leg to come to Vancouver Film School, stuffing a Friday night with one more teacher, not matter how “wafer thin”, can be a tough sell.

Just ask writing department head Michael Baser, who could be found at any given time peeking around corners and classroom doors like Kilroy on the days that Hollywood screenwriter Jim Jennewein (October 21) and District 9 co-writer Terri Tatchell (October 28) came to town, inviting us to attend if at all possible.  I mean, honestly, what could these two tell us that we hadn’t already heard, in one class or another, every day since orientation?

But good speakers aren’t stupid, and neither (usually) are the ones that invite them.  (You’re welcome, Michael.)  Speaking plainly about some of the challenges writers face in the film industry, from writing high concept comedy that sells to navigating the Hollywood food chain just to get a script read, Mr. Jennewein clearly understood how to make his Friday night presentation worth our time.  With writing credits that include Major League 2, The Flintstones, and Richie Rich, Jennewein briefly reviewed the basics of story writing before moving into a dynamic discussion of the rules of comedy, why some comedies work and others don’t, and the importance of getting inside the heads and hearts of our audiences.

Academy Award nominee Terri Tatchell brought a profoundly human vibe to a presentation that was less lecture than conversation, this one with teacher Kat Montagu in an engaging exchange straight out of Inside the Actors Studio.  Opening up on the real-life balancing act of writer as parent, Tatchell also talked about projects past, present and future, including the upcoming adaptation of Amanda Hocking’s Trylle Trilogy and the full-length feature Chappie, currently in development with husband (and 3D Animation & Visual Effects grad) Neil Blomkamp (Elysium).

In her disarmingly down-to-earth manner, she somehow managed to make the ego-crushing work of writing and film production feel not only doable, but eminently worth it.  It was like sitting and having coffee with an old friend.  An old friend with an Oscar nod and a loft on Granville Island.  Sigh.  One day. 

In both cases, Jennewein’s and Tatchell’s, it wasn’t their information so much as their inspiration that made coming out worth it.  Even if we had heard some of it before (and we had), it was still hugely motivating to hear a fresh spin coming from experience in a world we’re all training madly to enter, while being encouraged to respect the needs and demands of our own humanity.  Next time a speaker comes to town, go if you can, even if you think it’s just “more of the same”.  There’s a good chance it won’t be, and you never know what lights might get turned on in the process!

October 20, 2011

Winner - 8th Place, Writer's Digest 80th Annual Writing Competition (TV & Movie Scripts)


Click here for list of winners.

I just got word that I came in 8th place in the Writer`s Digest 80th Annual Writing Competition (TV & movie script category), for my original script, "Spare Change".  

It was my first crack at writing a script and, because I only learned about the contest four days before the deadline, I had to work fast.  (These days, that just sounds like a typical week at VFS!)  So this is very cool, and I'm very honoured!  Sounds like names of top winners in all ten categories (including fiction, poetry, stage play, and others) will be published in the November edition of Writer's Digest.

To all you aspiring writers out there, if you haven't heard of WD magazine or their annual competition, check it out online here.  They also have several other major writing competitions throughout the year, as well as a heap of writing resources (such as the annual and indispensable Writer's Market family of directories).

It's definitely worth the click!

October 5, 2011

Life @ VFS: What I've Learned So Far (Episode 1)

Every day at VFS is an epiphany.  I'm not even kidding.  It's kind of ridiculous.

Just when I think I've jotted down that last great tip, morsel of wisdom or industry insight from one of my teachers - boom! - they fire off another one, just to prove they can.  I don`t think the big blue binder can take much more.

Don`t get me wrong, I love every minute of it.  I`ve dreamed of this for years and I pinch myself a couple of times a day.  But Moses never found revelation so exhausting.  Oy.  I'm going to need a sleep therapist to realign my biorhythms after the last six harrowing weeks of editorial all-nighters and beer-soaked pitch preps.

But that's another story.

So what are some of these big flashing lightbulbs?

1. I can't be a good writer in isolation, no matter how isolated my life as a writer may be.  
To become worthy of other people's attention or commercial successful, my writing needs the spit and polish of other people's perspectives and feedback, insights and questions, criticisms and encouragements, emotionally-satisfied smiles and incredulous, raised eyebrows.
At VFS, this input wears various faces: class discussion, pitching, workshopping, group exercises, teacher's comments, and informal conversation.  It's constant, unrelenting, and indispensable. In a very real sense, our tuition includes the cost of each other.  I learn as much from the students around me as I do from my teachers.
Had I stayed writing in my basement in Alberta, my work would be (and I'm approximating here) 10% as good as it is now.  I wouldn't be enjoying an environment that constantly sparks new and better story ideas, and my ego would be in disproportion to my ability.  As far as I'm concerned, the shoulder rubbing and spit-balling we do every day is worth whatever it took to get here.

2. For the love of God, don't become an auteur.
Have a vision.  Have a good idea.  Have a really, really good idea.  Have a lot of really, really good ideas!  Write compelling, juicy, commercially-strong stuff.  But categorically refuse to become "special" - i.e. an arrogant, unapproachable, defensive dick nobody wants to work with, no matter how awesome you are.  It's vocational suicide, as well as being really, really annoying.

3. Leave your ego at the door.
It's going to get checked, balanced, smashed, dissected, analyzed, stripped naked, pointed to and laughed at, crucified, resurrected, then laughed at again.  Okay, not really, but it may feel that way sometimes.  All depends on how big it was when we got here.  (I'm talking about your ego, Jeff, settle down.)  This is about becoming a better writer, not about satisfying a subconscious need to be thought of as clever and witty.  Let`s be honest, it takes a healthy ego to dare to write in the first place.  But don`t let it turn into a tumor.

4. Embrace criticism and enjoy the ride.
As it turns out, having other people scrutinize our ideas and values isn't nearly as painful or nerve-wracking as we thought it would be.  (Unless you're talking about Kelsey Kirvan's pitch class, in which case I retract my previous statement.)  Once you realize that workshops, mentoring sessions, and class feedback exist to make your writing stronger, crisper and more marketable (and I have yet to be the recipient of any of these where my writing didn't improve), you`re off to the races.  I'm already at the point where I look forward to having my ideas ripped apart and my bright ideas challenged, because I know that I and my stories will be the better for it.  

5. Love the baby, love the baby, love the baby . . .Kill the baby!
It sounds worse than it is.  Just means that while it's vital to be passionate about our ideas and committed to a story`s vision (how else could we keep plugging away day after day?), we also need to be able to admit when an idea or element just isn't working and be prepared to abandon it as unemotionally as possible, moving in whatever other direction makes more sense.

6. Let the freedom-loving artist in you shake hands with the savvy businessperson in you.  
Sure writing is a highly individual art, but it's also a career and a business where we tend to work with other people.  Therefore a few questions are in order: Am I going to marry every detail of my vision or story, unwilling to negotiate one jot or tittle with studios or co-writers?  Will I only write or work on material originated by moi?  Will I only agree to projects over which I have complete creative control (and by the way, good luck with that)?  Can I work with others who may have totally different, sometimes incompatible visions?  Can I stomach watching someone else take my work and twist it into something else completely?
Each of us will have to draw these lines for him- or herself, and invariably each time an idea or opportunity emerges.  Whatever the outcome, it's important to recognize and make peace with the fact that writing, like any other job or endeavor, will inevitably ask us to make some compromises.

7. Write everything down and constantly find better ways to get stuff done.
I keep a small stationary store with me at all times.  I know I look like a dork always writing shit down on sticky notes and pasting them all over my binder, but I`m sorry, I just have to.  I`m not smart enough to remember all the great stuff we get hurled at us throughout the day.  Besides, I paid a butt-load of money for these pearls and I'll be damned if I'm going to let them slip away just because I didn't feel like investing in a good clipboard.
Plus it helps me constantly refine the various processes involved in writing (plot outlines, character profiles, dialogue development, pitches, log lines) so I'm not reinventing the wheel every time we get an assignment.   I know I sound like a big nerd, but guess what?  That's how you get good, bitches!  (My guess is, that's also how you get rich.  Bazinga!)

October 3, 2011

My Worst Poem

Because screenplays and poems are close cousins (in terms of both format and economy of language), my first-term style teacher, Adam Warren, asked us to write a god-awful poem en route to coming up with a good one.  For what it's worth:

I Flung Myself At Her
by Paul Donnett

I flung myself at her like a dog in heat,
Like some sweet luncheon meat,
Like a field full of wheat.

And she opened her arms like a bright sunny day,
and the horses did bray
And the children did play
And the farmers made hay
And the real men turned gay.

And we rolled and we rolled
In a patch of pure gold,
Till we got really old
and started to mold.

Fin

September 11, 2011

Remembering 9/11 at the Movies

It`s ten years ago today. And yes, it still deserves - will always deserve - the attention it gets.  Especially a few years from now, when we talk to our kids (and grandkids) about 9/11 the way our grandparents talked to us about Pearl Harbor, hoping that a profound historical moment our children never actually experienced will nonetheless resonate and influence the way they design and shape the world's future after we're gone.  


Like most of us, I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news.  Highway 2 between Calgary and Edmonton en route to a western religions class on modern Islam, enjoying the sunrise to my right and listening to the radio. A plane had flown into the World Trade Center and I wondered how drunk a pilot had to be to miss seeing that in the way.  Then word of a second plane and, immediately, I knew this was no accident.  Then came that sick, pull-the-car-over, "what the hell just happened" feeling.  Even as the news reports poured into the college cafeteria, we didn't comprehend the full impact of what had just taken place, either in personal or historical terms.  We were too shocked, too numb, too much in-the-moment.   


As the days and months unfolded, we went from sad to worried to a little crazy.  Every Walmart and Home Depot in the midwest States figured it was next.  Unceasing CNN danger alerts kept Americans entrenched in fear and George Bush in office.  In eventually going after bin Laden, the President couldn't resist pointing his guns at Saddam Hussein, lambasting the French, and insisting that we were either with him or with the evildoers (i.e. Al-Qaeda - oh and by the way, Iran and North Korea, too).  The Dixie Chicks couldn't criticize the President without engendering the closest thing to a Nazi-style CD burning on U.S. soil.  For years, the news became a surreal, nightmarish rehearsing of America's most embarrassing traits and ugliest historical moments - McCarthyism, the Red Scare, bomb shelters, racial segregation - in short, conservative fear-mongering on the right and liberal pandering to Islamic groups on the left, none of which seemed close to addressing the real problem.  But as nuts as it all seemed, it made perfect sense at the time.  We were sad and shocked.  More than anything we were, well, terrified.  


Ten years later, it's interesting to think about how Hollywood reflected (or fed) our public and private emotional responses to 9/11, as well as our eventual determination to move on.     


In 1998, The Seige (starring Denzel Washington, Annette Bening and Bruce Willis) eerily forecasted how a domestic terrorist attack might play out.  So wonderfully naive were we in those pre-9/11 days, many of us found the film's depiction of indiscriminate mass-murder and threatened constitutional rights distasteful or far-fetched.  Who knew how small Edward Zwick's imagination would end up feeling compared to the real thing?  By the time The Sum of All Fears debuted in 2002, audiences were in a decidedly more receptive frame of mind.


Images of the WTC were quickly pulled from films and television ads. Early promos for 2002's Spiderman were immediately re-shot. In Serendipity and Zoolander, the twin towers were digitally edited out.  Other films were re-written, postponed or axed altogether.  The ending of 2002's Men in Black II, originally located at the WTC, was moved to the Statue of Liberty grounds.  The release of Arnold's Shwarzenegger's Collateral Damage (whose tagline, "the war hits home", was ultimately removed) was delayed a full year.  Jackie Chan's Nosebleed, about a window washer who discovers a plot to bomb the towers, was shelved permanently.


Interestingly, while movie attendance dropped significantly for a couple of weeks, it quickly rebounded and overtook 2000 box office sales by nearly 20% ($1.2 billion).  Harry Potter and the Philosopher's StoneShrekMonsters IncThe Mummy Returns, and The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring scored huge between the fall of 2001 and summer of 2002.  Apparently, we needed to escape for a while, and fantasy was bumped forward on studio schedules while more realistic movies with even the slightest psychological connection to 9/11 were pushed back.


"I think one of the major problems that the movie industry now faces," said Collateral Damage screenwriter Terry George at the time, "particularly the big studios that produce the mega-blockbusters -- is that the reality of events on Sept. 11 so overshadowed and engaged and shocked this nation and the world, that any attempt to come close to, or duplicate, or re-enact a similar scenario is going to look pretty foolish and pathetic."  


And yet our appetite for cinematic destruction didn't go anywhere.  In fact, we got hungrier.  North American video rentals of high-action films like Die Hard and Independence Day skyrocketed right after 9/11.  And if ticket sales for half-milers like 2012 in the years since say anything, it's that we never really lost our fear (or desire) to see shit blow up and tragedy rain down upon us.


And of course we still needed heroes, perhaps more than ever.  For a while, Hollywood served up (apparently to our delight) national champions who defended the "homefront", even if it was thousands of miles and hundreds of years away.  Troy's Achilles (Brad Pitt) and 300's Leonidas (Gerard Butler) appealed not only to the ladies but to anyone wanting to believe someone could step up and protect us.  


Even our existing heroes changed. With Daniel Craig, James Bond dropped the smarmy charm for scowling, straight-to-the-balls realism, suggesting that beating the bad guy wasn't quite as neat and easy as Hollywood had suggested prior to 9/11.  This 007 didn't linger at the martini bar with a wry smile; he stared you down like the mad man he'd become before kicking the piss out of you and leaving you in the desert to die.  Batman ended the decade as the people's choice for most compelling crime-fighter primarily because he reflected the new, morally-challenging manner in which evil and evildoers might have to be addressed.  The Dark Knight's Joker might have strained an audience's credulity had it been released a decade or two earlier.  (Jack Nicholson's rendering actually scared us in 1989.)  The clown prince's insatiable thirst for disorder and the inability of government officials to stop him in Nolan's film would have arguably played too grimly back then.  But by 2008, Heath Ledger's Joker made perfect sense because, by that point, we'd already been forced to recognize that evil on that scale was not only possible, but its remedy was truly that elusive in a world where the bad guys could hide quietly among us. 


Wonderfully, something else happened in the years between then and now.  Slowly but surely, we allowed Hollywood to accompany us through the various stages of our collective grief. We experienced the tragedy of 9/11 vicariously and put a figurative arm around its victims in films like Reign Over Me and Remember Me.  We celebrated the courage and enduring human spirit of those who risked their lives to save others in Paul Greengrass's United 93 and Oliver Stone's World Trade Center.  We got downright angry and questioned the manner in which our leaders handled the national response in Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11.  Gradually, we began to debate the growing culture of fear, lamenting what we were becoming in Spike Lee's Inside Man and Gavin Hood`s Rendition.  And through it all, we entertained subversive speculation about how it all went down on the internet in conspiracy flicks like Zeitgeist and Dylan Avery's Loose Change.  

And now we get Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon.  Sigh.  


I guess it was inevitable.  And you know what, probably a good thing.  Because it means we didn't let the bastards completely destroy our way of life, even if our way of life includes moral conundrums like Michael Bay.  By and large, I think Hollywood and filmmakers in general have done a pretty good job of mirroring, exploring and helping us get through the last decade.  Sure, we've been manipulated, duped or pandered to in some of those films.  But that's Hollywood for you. That's life.  If even a handful of them consoled us and helped us effectively process the unbelievable shock and grief that hit us on September 11, 2001, then we have one more reason to love going to the movies.   

September 9, 2011

VFS Progress Report #1: The First 10 Days

A bit tired.  Five A.M., can't sleep, so figured it was a good time to write. Bob`s outside going through the garbage again.  (At least I think it's Bob.  It probably isn't.  I'll just use Bob from here on as an umbrella pseudonym for whoever's out there at any given time.)

The first two full weeks of class end today.  Went something like this:

Monday, Aug. 22 - Orientation

Thursday, Aug. 25 - Admissions advisor Bronwyn Smith takes Mel and I on a guided tour through VFS's  underground film studios. It's great to see where a lot of the interior shoots take place.  We find each room in alternating states of fully-assembled and nearly-torn-down.  A bird or raccoon hustles across ceiling beams, shooing us out.  We oblige.

Friday, Aug. 26 - We meet a handful of fellow writing students for drinks at the Cambie Pub, a block away from the school.  As usual, it's fun and a little nerve-wracking.  I introduce Mel and myself to Lynn, Ivan, Rachel, Thomas, Kate, Hannah and several others whose names my brain couldn't share space for beer with.  We talk about where we came from, what we`re here for, our favourite movies and TV shows.  It`s a lot of fun.  I feel genuine camaraderie with a group of people I'm meeting for the first time.

Day 1 - IT Orientation.  We learn how to use the school computers and printers, how to access our email and homework assignments, and how to properly break the rules re: eating and drinking in the computer room.  This is followed by Global Day, where we meet previous writing students and current teachers, and learn how to effectively analyze movie plots while planning that evening's drinking schedule.


Day 2 - Copyright lecture. Taught by Ken Ashdown, former VP @ Polygram Group Canada.  Thanks to Ken, more interesting than it should have been and more important than we realized.  Learned a ton in a short time.  Hope I get a chance to nerd out a bit more on this stuff.  (Bonus feature: Ken is the head of the school's Entertainment Business Management program (whose students function as, among other things, producers for student films), so I passed on a CD of my original film score music for his review.  A little personal product placement, in case students were looking for a soundscape or two.  I later passed a copy on to Rodger Cove as well, who in turn passed it on to Wade Fennig.  More to follow!)

Other classes in Term 1:
  • Story - 
  • Character
  • Dialogue
  • Style
  • Script Format
  • Script Structure
  • Short Script
  • Pitch
She`s a full plate, me hearties!

So far, we've analysed and/or watched snipets of Some Like it Hot, The Verdict, His Girl Friday, About a Boy, The Maltese Falcon, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Star Wars, Gladiator, Braveheart, 500 Days of Summer and Legally Blonde, to name a very few.

In the next few weeks, we'll "have" to study or watch Pulp Fiction, The Godfather, Sideways, Napoleon Dynamite, The Blair Witch Project, Juno, Seven, Unforgiven, The Graduate, Good Will Hunting, Clerks, It's a Wonderful Life, and Planes, Trains & Automobiles.  That's just term 1.  Oh, the torture.

By October, we'll each be asked to produce outlines for two low-budget feature scripts, an outline for one short script, and pitches for all.  At this stage, keeping all my classes, readings and assignments organized without losing hair is my main objective.  I may be a big geek, but it's been ten years since I last graced a lecture hall.  And here, I'm somehow the "old guy".  Sigh.

Meanwhile, Mel finally got a job.  Executive assistant for Victoria Gold, literally a five-minute walk from our front door and fifteen from VFS.  She was one of two finalists, then took the prize because she's awesome!  (And big sigh of relief!)

Then Ricky came to visit last week and helped us relieve that other anxiety - being so far from the kids.  (Only thing missing, obviously, were Jenni and James, but we'll get them out here before too long!)  Had a great time strolling Robson, visiting Stanley Park and Granville Island, seeing Captain America, going for  swims in the basement.  Was sad to watch him go back home, but so great to have him here.

Ivan the Terrible
And now I'm tired, so I'm going back to bed for one last hour of sleep before getting up to to study the finer points of dialogue, which consists for me right now of grunts at a cat more coherent than I.  Meow.

August 22, 2011

Orientation: "Just Do It!"


One move and several hundred shamelessly voyeuristic photos later, I am yanked rudely from my slumber by the familiar sound of Bob rummaging through the dumpster outside our bedroom window.  Finding my glasses, I notice he’s wearing two different shoes and recall with a twinge of regret that I gave three pairs away before leaving Alberta and, calculating his feet to be roughly the same size as mine, I now wish I had held onto at least the Adidas runners, and what time is it anyway? 

Seven-fifteen, my phone tells me.  August twenty-second.  VFS Orientation day.
Having stacked everything I need to bring on the dining room table the night before, I stare at the ceiling for five sweet, luxurious minutes before scratching my ass and rolling over to kiss Melissa gently on the cheek.

“You want to come today, hon,” I whisper.  “It’d be great for you to meet everyone.”

“Yeah, I’d really like that.” 

We stop at a grocery store along the way for a pack of gum to ensure good first impressions and to give us something to do while we stand in the inevitable line leading us to the inevitable table where we will process still more paperwork securing my enrolment in the writing program at Vancouver Film School.  I’ve been waiting for this day for six years.  For the moment, I straightjacket my natural impulse to douse the red tape in starter fluid and move slowly through the massive crowd of restless new students like me, shaking warmly the hands of strangers who will soon be colleagues and closer than family.  

Eventually we shuffle into cinema 7 and take our seats near the front.  It takes several minutes to sink in, but I’m finally here, finally standing inside Wonka’s factory and not merely peering jealously in through the gates.  I’m surrounded by students of all ages from seventy-two countries, each having forsaken other pursuits, proximity to family, and some degree of financial security to embark on the riskiest, bravest, most important of adventures: the satisfaction of a lifelong passion, the realization of dream.  As the last of us file in, I grin stupidly and bask in our collective hope and anticipation, knowing I will never experience this particular moment again.

The lights go down and we are treated to a video montage of the school’s recent successes. VFS graduates participated in all 10 of last year’s highest grossing films, as well as top-rated games like God of War, Assassin’s Creed and Red Dead Redemption.  Student works have been featured in up to 200 international festivals annually, garnering nominations or wins that include Leos, Golden Globes, and Oscars.  Graduates have gone on to work for Disney, Weta Digital, and George Lucas’ Industrial Light and Magic, to name a few.  I’d discovered most of these realities in previous presentations, but it was good to hear again.  

Then out walks Stephen Webster, VFS’s marketing director.  He’s from Dublin and somehow this makes the whole presentation cooler and more ingratiating.  He welcomes us by continent and country then gets straight to the point: At VFS, results matter.  Not sales pitches, not ego, not talent alone, but actual resultsEnd product.  Accomplishment.  Perusing the student handbook, I land on a similar sentiment expressed by founder and president James Griffen:  “The culture of Vancouver Film School is the culture of doing – doing every day, with relevant knowledge, relevant tools and relevant outcome.”  


This is, for me, the final nail in the coffin for those (few) critics who suggest VFS is a kind of puppy mill simply looking for student numbers and dollars.  From my own experience as an educator and college administrator, "graduate factories" simply don't (and can't) talk like this unless they plan on putting their money with their mouths are, and pronto.  In the long term, no school can maintain its credibility or sustain its success unless it produces a notable number of quality graduates who succeed in their chosen industries, and demonstrates a genuine commitment to hold students accountable for their own success while supporting them to that end.  VFS has clearly aimed at and achieved both.  No school can guarantee a specific outcome, and it would be naive to expect this.  What I am super jazzed about at this point is the idea of walking into an environment that will force me to produce, and help me get better and better at what I produce.  Now that's what I'm talking about.         

Next, the school’s student services manager takes the stage and tells us the entire faculty is here to serve and help us.  It’s a promissory note I have faith in, and not blindly.  I’ve simply had too many personal conversations with my academic advisor, admissions people, housing director and department head to believe otherwise.  In every conversation thus far, I've been spoken to like a real person everyone seems sincerely interested in helping.  And I’ve never felt it necessary to be disingenuous or kiss anyone’s butt to get direction or answers.  Clearly, this isn't a favourites game; it’s about how effectively we’ll all be able to build industry relationships, and fundamentally, how good we are at what we do.  Which is, of course, the way school should be.  I need guidance and a relatively level playing field more than I need special favours.  So far, so good.

Other takeaways include help for international and ESL students, a vendor fair (CIBC, Car2Go, medical insurance providers, etc) and most instructively, a review of the school’s six requirements:
  • Professionalism (reliability, respect, quality)
  • Communication
  • Bringing my “full game” (health, focus, energy)
  • Commitment to myself
  • A sense of humour
  • A joy for life
It’s a reminder to me that VFS is as serious about me achieving my goals as I should be.  For the next year, I get to live and breathe film, full-time.  Vancouver Film School’s commitment to me is clear.  The rest is clearly up to me.  

August 15, 2011

Gotta-Read: Making Movies (by Sidney Lumet)

He's been one of my favourite filmmakers for years and someone I'd wistfully hoped to meet one day, so it was with a genuinely heavy heart that I learned Sidney Lumet had passed away in April at age 86.

Director of a bundle of personal favourites like NetworkDog Day Afternoon, Serpico, and The Verdict, Lumet represented that old-school mix of irrepressible passion, inexhaustible work ethic, and an unrivaled ability to troubleshoot production problems while still bringing films in on time and often under budget.

I've soaked in the sunlight of his movies for years, but I fell in love with him this past spring by reading his memoir, Making Movies.  Admittedly (and unapologetically) an actor's director, Lumet always cared as much about the co-creators of his vision as he did about the original material or the finished product.  At once a diary and a technical analysis, the book moves through the various stages and elements of filmmaking in a style so comprehensible and intimate, a reader could easily mistake himself or herself as being on set and part of the process.

Nothing essential gets missed.  Not only directing, writing and acting, but art direction, costume design, editing and scoring receive the full-chapter treatments they deserve, breaking the sum into its various parts so respectfully (and helpfully to an aspiring filmmaker), there is simply no room for ego by the time he is done.  Films are so clearly a collaborative effort, and Lumet is so clearly willing to share glory where it is deserved, one cannot help but appreciate the sheer magnitude of the profession he chose and the kind of individual he needed to be in order to execute his vision so well, so often.  Lumet was a skilled and talented director to be sure, but more than this he was a truly authentic, deeply personable, refreshingly honest human being committed to transferring his experiences and insights to anyone willing to learn.

I particularly enjoyed his rationale for determining which ideas deserved cinematic treatment: "I'm not a believer in waiting for 'great' material that will produce a 'masterpiece.'  What's important is that material involve me personally on some level. . . As long as the theme is something I care about at the moment, it's enough for me to start work."  Of course, years of theatre and television work prior to entering Hollywood undoubtedly helped educate his choices regarding what was both intuitively satisfying and commercially viable.  Nonetheless, it is always refreshing to hear a filmmaker talk as much about a story's human impact as it's technical achievement or box office potential.

Punctuated with anecdotes featuring actors like Henry Fonda, Marlon Brando, Paul Newman, Faye Dunaway, and his obvious favourite (and mine), Al Pacino, Making Movies strips the filmmaking industry, if only temporarily, down to its most basic elements: a process and a community of people deeply invested in making that process work.  This is not a book by an "expert" who writes about film; this is an enthralling and highly personal guided tour through a career with no guarantees and no end of adventure by someone who's been there, over and over again.

"Nobody knows what the magic combination is that produces a first-rate piece of work," wrote Lumet.  "I'm not being modest.  There's a reason some directors can make first-rate movies and others never will.  All we can do is prepare the groundwork that allows for the 'lucky accidents' that make a first-rate movie happen."

Would love to have heard more about those "lucky accidents", Sidney.  But thanks so much for putting some of them down on paper before you left.

August 14, 2011

Missing My Kids

Saw Sade last night with Mel at Rogers Arena.  Was magical.  Rocked out to "Smooth Operator" and "Soldier of Love", slow-danced to "Moon & the Sky". Wonderful to see her for the first time!

Missing the kids a lot today.  Bit of a rough morning.  Maybe it was all the Sade the night before.  Just want to touch them and hug them, getting those same panic attacks I feel when I'm stuck on a plane for too long.  I thought that was claustrophobia, but apparently it has more to do (at least partly) with an inability to access the people I love, the inability to leave where I am right now and easily move to where I want to be.  In this case, to move into the next room so I can hold my children.

I'm glad we came to Vancouver.  I remember all the reasons why this was a good idea and, of course, we never could have done this unless we really believed that.  But, man, sometimes it`s a bit unbearable being this far away from them.  Not being able to watch James play the Dubliners on his penny whistle, listen to Jenni sing a song she just wrote on the guitar, or enjoy a new drawing by Ricky of some mythical creature accompanied by one of his richly-detailed explanations.  Run down to 7-11 for a Slurpee, drive to the city limits to make a quick movie, buzz over to the mall to check out hunting gear at Bass Pro.

Not being able to do those things - to watch them grow up day by day, to meet their new girlfriends or boyfriend: you know, the big stuff - that's one thing.  But sometimes all you want to do is walk into their bedrooms and watch them as they sleep.  Just to make sure they're okay, that's it.  Just to stare, mystified at how they managed to turn out so well, and in awe at how grown-up they look now.  I used to do that all the time with them, right up till the morning before we left: sneak in and listen to them snore, think about how small they once were or how big they'll soon be, send up a little prayer to who-knows-who to keep them safe, plan what we'd do that day once they wake up.  I'm really, really missing that today.

I need a coffee.

August 13, 2011

The Journey West

I questioned whether we'd pull off the move to B.C. with a 14-foot Uhaul trailer, but we did it!


Well, once we sold or gave away two-thirds of our earthly possessions.  That and a solid week and a half of packing, two straight all-nighters' worth of cleaning and painting, address changes, tearful goodbyes, and an eleventh-hour BBQ move (thank you, Tom Hannam), before handing the keys back to our landlord and finally hitting the highway around noon on July 31, bound for Vancouver via Penticton.  There, Auntie Barb and Uncle Bob wined us and dined us while Finnigan (our cat) eyed Tika (Barb's dog) suspiciously and flirted with disaster on the deck of their seventh-floor condo (closest I've come to coronary arrest in years).  As coincidence or the Universe had it, it was also our one-year anniversary, so we celebrated with spirits from not one, not two, but three Okanagan wineries!  Delish!



Retaining enough presence of mind to hire two movers, we arrived in Van on the afternoon of August 2 and let them do all the dirty work.  Thank God.  Vancouverites would have read about a double murder next morning had Mel and I tried to unload everything ourselves.  Good thing we didn't realize at the time that the unloading would prove a cakewalk compared to the unpacking, or the headline would have read "murder-suicide".  I tell ya, the math has to get downright Euclidean when downgrading from 1300 square feet and a basement to 650 square feet and no storage space.  Boxed in, wiped out, and feeling like two players caught in some nightmarish hybrid of Tetris and Tron, we spent ten claustrophobic days trying to position furniture we had no room for, and nick nacks we could now admit we had no use for.  When the dust finally settled, the tenants of 1122 Haro Street had inherited 22 moving boxes, four boxes of books, a coffee table, and an unopened box of Feline Pine cat litter.  The vultures picked it all clean in three days.


But we were in Vancouver!  And nothing says "welcome to your new home" like a sunny afternoon at Kits Beach.

That and morning coffee at Granville Island Market.  And a Locarno Beach reunion with old high school friends.  And fish and chips with Auntie Betty at Rocky Point Park.  And receiving a warm reception from my academic advisor and the head of my department at Vancouver Film School.  And the fact that "downtown" is a mere step out the front door and around the corner.

And something happened to Vancouver since I lived here last.  (Actually that's a lie, I never lived in Vancouver.  I lived around it, close to it, but never in it.)  It seems cleaner, quieter, safer than it was in 1992.  We've been out on the street nearly every night till midnight or later (everything is open late), and have felt completely comfortable every time.  It's like Paris that way.  Yes, we know anything can happen (we shoulder-check instinctively), but I feel safer here than I did in Calgary.  As big and busy as it is - as many times as car horns honk, all-night partiers sing, and eyes avert my gaze -, there is an unexpected sense of community here, a politeness that seems to go beyond the simple Canadian stereotype into something more inclusive and intentional; an informal social contract that goes something like, "You watch out for me and I'll watch out for you.  Let`s all work together to keep it clean and safe, and we'll get along just fine.  And by the way, I hope you're not going to leave your cigarette butts on the street."

Maybe it's a post-riot thing, or maybe it's just me.  (I've determined to smile at or say hi to the people I pass on the street.  Call my Paullyanna.)  I'm sure time and familiarity will give us a fuller picture, but I don`t believe it will give us a wildly different picture.  Maybe it's just a West Coast thing, and I get that it's not for everyone. The laid-back, health-conscious, beach bum, can't-smoke-in-the-park thing might drive some people crazy.

But as far as we're concerned, we're home.  And we love it!

July 21, 2011

The Checklist

30 things to get done in prep for Van Film School:

1.       Assess personal finances (can we afford it?)
2.       Determine whether 2011 or 2012 works better
3.       Talk to the kids, make sure they’ll be okay with it
4.       Ensure their mom will be okay with it (staying with her while we’re gone)
5.       Build a “Plan A”, “B”, and “C”
6.       Put aside some money (2-3 month cushion)
7.       Apply for & get accepted to VFS
8.       Apply for & get scholarship
9.       Apply for & get student loan
10.   Apply for every other bursary, scholarship, grant or funding we can find
11.   Find & apply for housing
12.   Confirm housing (first month’s rent + deposit)
13.   Mel – Find work
14.   Give notice – Work
15.   Give notice – Landlord
16.   Give notice – Kids
17.   Secure moving truck
18.   Secure movers (move-out, move-in)
19.   House – Pack
20.   House – Clean
21.   Notify billers, cancel utilities
22.   Address change > Canada Post, family, friends, billers, etc
23.   Utility deposits on new home
24.   Find out re: B.C. car insurance & medical
25.   Finalize any legal paperwork
26.   Wrap up medical appointments before current health benefits run out
27.   Sell my car
28.   Sell/give away everything we can’t bring
29.   Say our goodbyes (kids, family, friends, work)
30. Write a list of all the reasons we’re doing this so we don’t lose heart (or our minds!) later