I Am Not Watching Movies And I Am Okay With It

I go through spells of not watching any movies, and I kind of like it. If you're not careful - watching films becomes something done out of duty rather than passion - especially when you work in the industry, or write a film blog, or both. And there's just no fun in that. 

Truth be told, I haven't seen 'Argo', or 'Looper', or 'Skyfall', or 'Rust & Bone'. I'm behind. But so what? Right now I'm loving books, and news articles, and music. I've always had this pattern, it's a natural thing, where my interests dive into different areas for short periods of time. It's usually really intense. I won't read a book in a year, then I'll read nine in six days. That's how I am, and I like it that way. 

But I don't always allow myself to be like that. Because I have this identity, as the 'film guy'. I'm not sure if other people pushed it upon me, or if I claimed it for myself. Indeed, there's something cool about being the guy people turn to if they need an opinion or, dare I say, some expertise regarding films. 

But these ways in which we identify ourselves, they're not really real. It's just a tag we wear. And actually, it can be extremely limiting. 

When I was a kid, I used to love books about crime, and aliens, and monsters. But somewhere growing up, I told myself I don't like those stories. But you know what? I kind of really do, it's just buried deep inside of me. My tastes skewed towards classic Hollywood, modern indie films, and world cinema. And I really do love those things; but I also over-identify with them a little too much sometimes, as if it means something. As if it's who I am. 

I kind of blame the blog. It adds more pressure. It shouldn't do. A blog is just a blog. But again; you start to over-identify with what you're doing. See yourself as the indie film blogger guy. The one with the slightly off mainstream opinion on things. But what is that? It's just some made up self-perception that means very little. 

We are who we are and sometimes I just wanna sit in my room for six hours and watch 'Ally Mcbeal' episodes. I never let myself do that; because it seems wasteful, or girly, or something else; I can never put my finger on it. But actually, sometimes that's really what I want to do. A voice in me says "watch eight Billy Wilder movies then write an epic article about them," or "read ten screenplays, they'll help you with your scripts and then they'll help you come up with something really interesting for the blog...." -- but it's not a voice of passion, it's just this crazy nutbag inside of me who pushes me to keep to this identity; the film guy persona. 

But no, tonight I just want to watch a bunch of Ally Mcbeal episodes, and then read a good book. The movies will still be there a day, week or month from now. 

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SHORT STORY: In Search of Writer's Block

Abley was competent with words, some might even say talented. He'd experienced many things as a writer, but never writer's block.

He was of the belief that to be truly great, you have to suffer from the pain of writer's block. He constantly daydreamed about being blocked, and romanticised about it endlessly. "I don't want to have all these ideas," he said, to a passer by, called Merv, who didn't expect to be a part of this story.
"Excuse me?" asked Merv.
"I have too many ideas. It's all flowing," said Abley.
"What are you talking about?"
"I want to have writer's block. I'm desperate to be fresh out of ideas."
"Have you thought about moving to Hollywood?" said Merv.

Abley mumbled something offensive and sauntered off towards home. He arrived and turned on his laptop. Much to his dismay, he was full of creativity. He instantly wrote 2000 words, and that was just to respond to Liz on Facebook. Then he worked on his novel. Eight hours later, the novel was complete and he'd written outlines for four new stories.

Abley was meeting Greg and Nancy for coffee. They were both writers who didn't take him seriously due to his unusual productivity. Abley was desperate to be more like them, more like a real writer. He looked for patterns. Greg had a beard - and so did Nancy. Maybe this was the key to creative death.

"What are you working on at the moment?" asked Greg.
"Nothing," replied Abley, who convinced no-one, probably because he was scribbling down the seventh chapter while talking. Nancy was deeply concerned about him. Without the huge struggle, and years of creative bankruptcy, how could Abley ever expect to be taken seriously? 

Abley was desperate. He wrote six books on 'the hunt for writer's block', and they were all best-sellers. The depression was hitting hard. He stayed up nights, consumed with fear that he would never run out of ideas. How could he be more like his writing idols who had all suffered extreme bouts of creative nothingness?

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The Lonely Cinema

Jon and Nancy were on their first date. He was nervous and had sweaty palms. "I want to hold your hand," she said. Jon plummeted both hands into the popcorn. "No, sorry," he said, smiling like a madman. His whole body began sweating and he died a little inside, knowing this was all too much for him.

Brad, Tom and AJ were in the middle row, dead centre. They were film geeks and all decided they hated the movie -- and this was before it had even started. They bought tickets without knowing what it was -- but they knew it would be terrible, they could tell by the type of audience.

Riley and Alice loved the movie, but hated the three guys behind them who were constantly ridiculing it. It was obvious to them that the guys were trying to impress them with their trendy disdain, but it wasn't working. Alice felt sad, thinking about all the men who'd stayed alone because they didn't realise how negative being negative sounded to women.

Stefan was angry at the projection. There was definitely a problem. Also, the sound was too quiet. Lisa just wanted him to kiss her, but he was too outraged. She tried her magic -- a movement of the arms and a little eye contact. He looked at her, and wow she was beautiful. He wondered why he could see her so clearly. It was because of the Fire Exit sign, so bright! Stefan kicked the chair in front of him and mumbled something about the cinema staff being 'amateurs'.

Albert didn't know for sure, but he sensed that this would probably be his last visit to the cinema. He longed for Ginger Rogers, but was content with a bald guy shooting at cars, because it distracted him from what the doctor had just told him. He thought about Gina, and all her favourite pictures. He missed being able to talk to her. He missed her smell. There was one film she absolutely loved, that starred Henry Fonda, but he couldn't remember the name of it.

Scarlett didn't care about the movie, she only cared about Liam. For the next two hours, she could pretend he wasn't leaving. She could pretend the play-fight over popcorn didn't have a subtext. She could pretend she wasn't lost in sadness. She could pretend he cared more than he did. While he was made to sit silently in a dark room, she could convince herself he wasn't an asshole. She could convince herself this thing wasn't over.

All Becci could see as she looked for a seat, was couples. But then she saw: the guy. All alone and intriguing. She sat next to him, of course. She spent the entire movie wondering what she would say to him at the end. The end came, and she rushed out quickly without saying a word. She always does things like that, and has no idea why.

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Let Me Take You By The Hand And Lead You Through The Streets Of London

I'm exhausted. Must have walked for about ten hours today. We did Buckingham Palace, we did Shakespeare's Globe, Hyde Park, Soho, I even showed her these little old houses behind Waterloo Station that are so OldLondon that you feel like you've time travelled.

You know what was great about today? That it wasn't about movies.

I'm not saying they never came up. She's a top director from New York, and I desperately wanted to hear all about her latest film. And when we were in the Tate Modern we had a lengthy conversation about my screenplays.

But today wasn't about that. It was about seeing London. I'd never been to the Tate before! I mean, I thought it sucked and most of what passes for art is ridiculous. But at least now I can say I did it!

It was good to be a tourist. Refreshing. I pass these streets every day but usually it's for a meeting or I'm making my way to the Curzon for a screening. It was good to actually look up at the buildings and see London in all its history.

And of course, being her first time in London - she expected me to be full of facts. I was -- but most of them were made up. The stuff I did know didn't really cut it. I pointed out a location from 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' when we passed the BFI on the Southbank, but it wasn't very interesting, because today really wasn't about movies.

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Paid/Unpaid: Your Value in the Film Industry

This isn't an article about what rights you have, it's an article about the realities of the industry that most of us find ourselves in. You can quote rules and figures to me from unions and laws, but unfortunately; so few of us get to live within those luxuries. Sometimes we write/act/sing for free, sometimes we get paid huge amounts. At the opening and closing ceremonies of the Olympics, there were professional dancers who were fully paid, and thousands of 'volunteers' who worked for nothing. But who in their right mind would turn down the opportunity to be a part of such a unique event? Virtually no-one.

And that's what it comes down to in movies. Supply and demand. When a movie is being cast, there are often 1500 people applying for 5 roles. Unless you're indispensable as an actor, they can easily replace you for someone else.

What does it mean to be irreplaceable? A big part of it is business. If your name is on a poster, will it mean a big increase in ticket sales? If I put you in a YouTube video, will you bring in 50,000 views?

Johnny Depp gets twenty million dollars a movie because he guarantees profit at the box office. Robert De Niro gets two million because his name being attached to your project will guarantee pre-sales with a distributor; they can sell his movies before they're even made.

But you're not De Niro or Pacino, so what are you? You're an out of work actor.

It's like Jim Rohn used to say, your value goes up when you provide value to the market place. You can demand £100 a day to be in a student movie, but it's unlikely you're that valuable to them.

The successful actors build their careers over time. The harsh truth is, you're probably not as good as you think you are. You did twenty unpaid films then said, "I'm only doing paid work now"? Well maybe you should have done fifty projects, or a hundred.

It's a gradual thing. Longevity counts for a lot. It's like the way google ranks websites higher when they've been around longer. It's the same with actors, there's weight to longevity! All your favourite actors were at it for 15 years before they broke in at the levels we know them for. 

You get paid based on business, or uniqueness. Maybe you're not successful yet, but you have a unique voice as an artist. If you've been at it long enough, and you're unique enough, you'll probably be worth it. We'll cut down the food budget, we'll fire the DOP and hire you, because you're magic! If you think you're this already, when you're only just starting out, you're delusional!

As I said, this is not a post about rights. Or unions. I know my rights but still I've written screenplays for productions companies who have exploited my talents like crazy for very little money. But I'm not Charlie Kaufmann, it's the reality of the business. You take what you can get, otherwise you're unemployed and irrelevant. 

Even at the top of the line. You've got Ron Howard losing his studio deal, you've got Kathleen Kennedy going two years without a greenlight before the Lucas/Disney deal, and yet Christopher Nolan gets to make the movies he wants.

Why?

Business and uniqueness. No-one can do what he can do. At the moment, he guarantees box office. And the movies are great.

Why is Woody Allen still making movies? Business. His reputation, plus that of the stars who beg to work for him for scale; they make the movies profitable. Maybe not in America, but after foreign sales and home video, he's a safe bet. Woody doesn't get to make films because of his glasses, it's because he's unique and profitable. 

You can think about paid/unpaid as a thing about rights, and making a living. But if your goal is to make a living this year, go work in an office. Your goal, long term, is to be a unique artist who can demand a big fee based on what you bring to the table.

You're less helpless when you realise how empowering this can be. Have you PROVEN you can do the work? Have you shown you can be AMAZING?

Don't moan about how poor you are. Do something that shows a bit of talent. Make a 30 second movie. Write a book and give it away for free. And then do it all again to prove it isn't an accident.

Provide value to the market place.
Build an audience.
Build uniqueness.

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