Dreaming With Nothing

"I dream for a living" -Spielberg.

Good for him, the rest of us struggle. A field covered in the dead corpses of projects that faltered, fell and faded.

You have to believe in the impossible. To make a living in the movie industry is to do the unrealistic, to pull magic out of a hat when you don't even know what a hat is.

Advice is wonderful; write every day, write only when inspired; dedicate all waking hours to film, dedicate all waking hours to life and living; work for free to prove your worth, charge lots to prove your worth. Advice is great but however you do it, you end up time and again with nothing except a heap of battered-beat up experiences to share in some coffee house with a friend.

But at least you have those experiences. The work of successful artists is painted with a hundred failures. Everyone I know goes to bed at least six nights a week struggling with the dark knowledge that the goals we set for ourselves and the promise we've shown has lead to not much of anything at all.

And the real world has questions. The values set by the Western world are: how much money did you make? Did you win the award? Are you famous yet?

In some alternate reality someone asks; did you enjoy it? Did the project fulfill your ambitions? Did you manage to produce what was in your heart? Not in this world, not yet.

The worries of the artist are small compared to the real world issues of bills, poverty and war.

But art makes the journey worthwhile. The song at your wedding, the movie you watch every Christmas, the poem you have pinned up in the kitchen. I'm not saying they're everything but they're a huge contribution to society. We need to cherish the artists. They drive themselves mad as hell insane, just to produce something. Producing magic is the dream, producing something adequate is a miracle.

The successes failed again and again too, right up until they hit the jackpot. When I interviewed Lawrence Sher he told me how he was earning $7000 a year and struggling like crazy. Then it changed. The last few years he's been DOP'ing films like 'Due Date' and 'The Hangover', he's one of the most sought after guys in the industry. Scott Rosenberg told me that he wrote ten feature films before he got an agent. He wrote four more before something got made.

How close are you to giving up? How close are you to succeeding?

The margins are small. As Pacino said in 'Any Given Sunday': "It's a game of inches...".

Sometimes people put us down when we want to reach for the stars. Other times people want us to reach for the stars and we're too busy putting ourselves down and dwelling on failure.

Sure, you're failing. Everyone's failing. You have thousands of people for company. But you've trained yourself in your art for years; we improve, we get better. Sometimes you reach people, sometimes you get the big cheque. But not if you quit or cave.

Good luck, we're all in this thing together.

"If I am going to have any life anymore
it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch
because that is what LIVING is.
The six inches in front of your face."
-Pacino, in 'Any Given Sunday'

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STEVEN SPIELBERG Interview at AIN'T IT COOL NEWS

Spielberg, he's one of us. Just a kid who loves movies. Check out Quint's amazing interview with the one and only Steven Spielberg here.

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"JURASSIC PARK" and "JAWS" on the big screen

Last night, at the Prince Charles Cinema in Leicester Square, London, I watched JURASSIC PARK and JAWS back-to-back at a sellout screening. This is thirty five years after the release of 'Jaws,' and seventeen years after we first saw 'Jurassic Park' - and it left everyone in no doubt about the genius of Steven Spielberg. Not that there ever was any doubt.

For Jurassic Park, I was sitting in the front row, center. I was every bit of the 'Kid In The Front Row' I claim to be. It's funny because most of the time I claim my favourite films to be titles like 'Jerry Maguire' and 'The Apartment' -- but I think, when you come down to the essence of what it is to be a Kid In The Front Row, what you really mean is - someone who is down front and center during a Spielberg film, feeling every dull BOOM as the T-Rex gets nearer and nearer.

I have a theory; that films are always changing. I tried to explain this once before, and didn't really succeed. The thing that is amazing to me is how a film will never play the same way twice. 'Jaws' was different in '75 to how it is now. When we watch it today, we're aware that it is not modern day, and we're aware that the shark had problems during production, and we have 35 years more collective and individual life experience. What does this mean? I don't know. It just means-- the experience is different.

It's the same for every movie. Even when you watch them at home. 'Jurassic Park' will be different today to what it was two months ago. For one, you'll have the experience and knowledge that came from your last viewing. Also, the world will have changed a little. Maybe your cousin had a baby, and suddenly now, you find it a little more scary when the dinosaurs turn the kids upside down in the jeep, maybe two weeks ago you read an article in the New York Times about cloning animals, or about nearly extinct animals, and it changed your perspective slightly. Maybe you watched 'War Of The Worlds' and was disappointed, and that made you look closer at Spielberg's direction this time around. Maybe when you watched it two months ago you had a headache, and this time, instead, you have an annoying pain in your foot. The obvious thing to say is that we change. But also, the movies change. They grow older.

'Jaws' was always a funny film. But as it ages, it gets funnier. There are things that Quint says and does that wouldn't have raised laughs 35 years ago, but now his actions border on the hysterical for audiences. Scenes that were tense and dramatic when it originally screened still are, but in different ways. If you are in any doubt about the magic of Steven Spielberg - seeing these films in a packed out cinema with hundreds of adoring fans will soon put that to rest. The crowning moment, for me, was when a shocked Chief Brody delivered the immortal line "you're gonna need a bigger boat." The entire audience spontaneously cheered and applauded, and laughed. It was a wonderful, communal moment between strangers that, for those very few seconds, brought us much closer together. It was a moment of joy, a moment of magic and a moment that acknowledges the importance of what Spielberg, Schneider and co achieved with this film.

There is no guarantee that an audience will react in that way every time 'Jaws' is screened. It's the un-plannable magic of having the right people, in the right place, at the right time. Plus, you can't help but feel, 'Jaws' was having a good night, it was ready to perform. But then, 'Jaws' is always like that. Some films have good days and bad days, but not 'Jaws.'

All I'm really saying is: It was great to see these old friends again on the big screen. They really reminded me of what it is to be a true Kid In The Front Row.

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The moment Chief Brody changes.

I was watching 'Jaws' (Spielberg, 1975) and the brilliance of these few scenes hit me in a way it hadn't before. It's a masterclass in acting from Roy Scheider and subtle directing from Steven Spielberg.

It's the moment in the film where Chief Brody really realises the gravity of the situation he's in. In the moments leading up to these scenes he is elated when the fisherman have brought in a shark - which he is of course convinced is the killer. And then he is confronted by the woman whose son was killed.

"I just found out that the girl got killed here last week. And you knew it. You knew there was a shark out there.. you knew it was dangerous, but you let people go swimming anyway. You knew all those things... but still my boy is dead now."
The minute she speaks - you can see the guilt in Brody's eyes. He doesn't have to say a word. In fact, his face barely moves -- but you can feel the weight of the situation and the guilt he is carrying.

"Come here, give 'us a kiss."
"Why?"
"Cause I need it."
In the next scene he is having a personal, touching moment with his son. He barely says a word. He feels responsible for the death of the little boy - yet here is he now with his safe and healthy son next to him. Again, Scheider barely does a thing; it's all in the eyes.

"Martin hates boats. Martin hates water. Martin... Martin sits in his car when we go on the ferry to the mainland. I guess it's a childhood thing. It's a... there's a clinical name for it isn't there?
"Drowning."

When Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) turns up, Brody is just quietly amused. The occasional wry, painful smile. As Hooper talks to Brody's wife he just sits there between them, mulling a million things over in his head.

He pours himself a large glass of wine before giving a small glass to his wife and to Hooper. Up until this point, he's hardly said a thing. As Ellen, his wife, tries to think of the word for his fear of water; Brody jumps in with "drowning," before going in to a very specific question about sharks, which he directs at Hooper.

In these few minutes alone we see Brody's character and purpose completely change. It's a change that informs the rest of the film. Suddenly, the man who has been afraid of water all his life takes to the water without complaint. He has a job to do, it's the only way he's going to beat the guilt that's building up inside of him.

Incredible filmmaking from Spielberg, with heartbreaking music from John Williams. But most of all - Roy Scheider lays himself bare in these scenes-- what he does with his eyes and only minimal dialogue is incredible.

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