It seems to me that there are a lot of people out there that don’t want other people to have fun. GTA comes with with a “mature” rating and an explicit warning about what the game contains. While GTA is an incredibly popular franchise it certainly doesn’t appeal to everyone. A study that sets out to link video games and violence is going to prove just that. It’s no different than a study aiming to disprove the link achieving its goal.

There is no conclusive connection between video games and violence. Just as there is no clear link between movies and violence. Blaming media for problems in society is simplistic. Video game players and their developers are going to defend their efforts, just as the producers of an ultra-violent movie would stand by their work. No one knows what comes first: the violence or the depictions of violence.

Now leave us alone and let us play video games. They’re fun!

The Thinking Writer tracked down and shared links to the studios that were basically giving scripts away for free. The links are More Scripts and More Scripts, Pt. 2.

Being earnest, I read all of them. In fact, I printed them all and what a mountain of paper it made.

I was not at all surprised that Cody Diablo’s Juno won the Academy Award award for Best Original Screenplay. I was quite happy with the choice, in fact. As I pored over every script I could find from the past year, Juno is the one that struck me as the most original. It is written with a unique voice. As I read, I could see the movie playing in my mind. It hooked me from the first page. And by the last page I was feeling jealous that my writing isn’t nearly as good.

It stands head and shoulders above the other original scripts I read this year. And those were good scripts too.

As for the Best Adapated Screenplay, I did enjoy reading No Country For Old Men. But it wasn’t my favorite. Of those nominated, I think The Diving Bell and The Butterfly is the one I’d rather read again.

In a play, the author typically has to devise several ways of getting the actors on and off the stage. The action occurs in only a few locations. In a screenplay, however, the action takes place over several locations. The heightened pace of film also makes entrances and exits seem staged. They are best avoided unless there is a dramatic reason for them.

When I’m writing a scene, I like to build the four walls first. The scratch scene, my first pass at writing, often has both an entrance and exit. Then I very quickly begin to rework the scene, cutting it down until only the bare essentials are left. It’s almost like a director giving lines for actors to speak before the actual scene begins. They won’t appear in the film, but still help bring the performance up to speed. I find this also works well in writing.

In his memoirs, Elia Kazan compared the difference between directing for stage and screen:

A film director can choose to leap into the “meat” of a scene or from high moment to high moment, leaving out what, in his opinion, is not worth the attention of the audience. Entrances and exits - unless they’re freighted with dramatic substance - mean nothing. It doesn’t matter how the character got there. He’s there. Cut to the heart of the scene.

Good screenplays also cut straight to the heart of the scene.

Take a screenplay like Woody Allen’s Annie Hall (1977). There are very few entrances in the entire script, even though the story jumps from location to location. There is an excellent party scene at a Beverly Hills mansion. It begins with two men chatting. This cuts to a wider shot and another man joins the conversation. Another cut, and Alvy (Woody Allen) and Rob (Tony Roberts) are at the center of the scene. They arrive at the party without actually making an entrance. It’s economical. It’s also good writing.

“The first casualty of war is innocence.” That’s the tagline for Oliver Stone’s Platoon (1986), a film that’s different from other Viet Nam war stories because it’s not about two countries fighting each other. Rather, it’s a story about a country at war with itself. Although the story centers on the thoughts and fears of one soldier, everyone in the platoon faces similar moral choices, and must decide for themselves what is right and wrong.

The men in Chris Taylor’s (Charlie Sheen) platoon divide into two groups: the heavy drinkers loyal to Barnes (Tom Berenger) and the pot smokers who follow Elias (Willem Dafoe). The main difference between them is that Elias already believes the war can’t be won, but keeps fighting in it with honor. The audience roots for him because he’s a moral compass and mentor to the liberal minded members of the platoon. Barnes and his men, however, have a different take on the war. They lash out at the Vietnamese and each other; committing atrocities that turn them into the real bad guys.

With a story as multi-layered as this, it’s not surprising to find a moral center - someone who voices the author’s perspective. The moral center steers the theme, so that is not about surviving war, but surviving war with humanity still intact. The moral center of Platoon is King (Keith David), introduced early in the script:

• KING looks like a king. A lion of a black man but with a sleepy, gentle face, not to be roused, is painfully trying to scrawl a letter home with the pencil held awkwardly, mouthing the words.

He has many of the film’s key lines and entertains the platoon with his home-spun wisdom and sense of humor.

King wonders how an educated man like Chris wound up in Viet Nam. The boy’s idealistic view of the war makes him laugh. He calls Chris a crusader for thinking dropping out of school and signing up would make a difference. (Stone reportedly dropped out of Yale twice and based Platoon on his own experiences serving in Viet Nam.)

After the hero survives an injury, King - whose very name is symbolic - accepts him as part of the group. He takes Chris under his wing, shrugging off the possibility that he might have let the platoon down. King tells him there is “no such thing here as a coward,” a line that he repeats later in the film.

As an ally, King introduces Chris to the “head,” an underground world where Elias’ crew smoke pot and escape the war. He gets Chris high for the first time, which not only relieves the pain of his injury, but initiates him into the underworld. The symbolism of this occasion isn’t lost on King:

• KING
• (smiling)
• This ain’t Taylor. Taylor been shot. This man Chris been resurrected…

King is not the only moral guide in Platoon. The Christ like figure Elias is another strong force of good and the focal point of Chris’ admiration.

In my mind, the moral center is generally a less active participant in the story and more of an observer. Elias plays a big part; staying very involved in the plot. He helps the men prepare for missions and teaches them what he can about survival. When faced with difficult tasks he crusades for good. King is more of a witness and commentator on the action. His actions never influence the direction of the story.

When the platoon suspects that Barnes actually killed Elias they talk about getting revenge. Barnes turns up drunk and challenges them, giving them a chance to get even.

• King, the biggest one there, is about to say something, but the moment passes.

He knows that an eye for an eye is not justice; and remains an observer. As an observer King is also the only that notices Chris isn’t writing home anymore. In case the audience hasn’t noticed Chris’ transformation, King is there to point it out.

We don’t know what happens to Chris and the other members of the platoon at the end. King makes it out alive before the final battle and he gives Chris some final advice:

• KING
• Make it outta here, it’s all gravy, every day of the rest of your life man - gravy.

If anything, this is the delivery of the film’s real message. War is a terrible experience for everyone involved. Surviving it is one thing, but surviving it and still remaining human is another.

For King, to have another chance at life, and to live life to the fullest, every day is gravy. It’s an extra gift that is worth staying alive for.

I’ve found that many screenplays contain a special character type that is somewhere between a stock character and an archetypal character. This figure is someone who will help the hero on his journey, and I call him or her: the moral center. It’s possible that the moral center also doubles as one of the archetypal roles such as the mentor or shapeshifter. This may be less common though, otherwise all stories would have moral centers and I don’t think that’s the case.

Aside from helping the hero in some small way, the true job of the moral center is to introduce the film’s theme, and clue us in to what the movie is all about. The voice of the moral center illustrates the writer’s perspective.

While the hero may be the moral compass of the film - the one who will strive to right the wrongs and reestablish the status quo - he is never the moral center. The hero is too busy with his quest, battling the villain, driving the story forward and facing obstacles. As the audience roots for him, he will make a series of choices - some of them will turn out to be right, others wrong. If he were also the story’s moral center, the film would assume a tone of preaching, and be of little interest to most audiences.

The moral center is almost always a minor character; someone often allied with the hero, but corrupted neither by him nor the villain. He brings to the story a voice of wisdom; shedding light on what the story is really about. With a few key lines, this enlightened individual will represent understanding and insight in a nearly godlike way.

If you really want to know who the moral center is: he’s the one dude in the film that you’d really want to hang out with.

I’ll elaborate more on the moral center in my next post with a few examples from popular films.

John has posted to his site the text of a recent speech he gave at Drake University, The Challenge of Writing in a Digital Age. Sometimes all it takes is an expert to say something obvious for it to resonate clearly. John offers up the following definition:

Writing is how we demonstrate that we understand something.

For the screenwriter that means your story. If you’re going to write a movie you should have something important to say. You can’t tell a good story if you don’t understand it yourself. A good script should adhere to a certain structure and follow a logical plan. There are as many books as there are blogs on screenwriting, but real insight and understanding only comes through hard work. This is the day to day routine of writing.

This applies equally to other kinds of writing. A songwriter needs to understand the mechanics of emotion. Songs may tell stories too, but if anything, the true purpose of music is to stir an emotional response. What remains true to all kinds writing is not only what you say, but how you say it. As John said at the end of his speech, we should all write like our lives depend on it.

Traveling is waiting out the single line check in at the airport for a flight that is going to be delayed several hours. Traveling is also the 12 hour bus ride that is nauseating enough to make a robot feel car sick. It is dealing with foreign languages, sleeping somewhere different every night, trying foods you can’t identify and battling tropical storms. When you add all the small things together any respectable trip entails a fair amount of struggles.

But ultimately, a good trip is one you come out of with new insights and perspectives. It’s only natural that it should take a little suffering to make that leap.

On my last trip to Viet Nam I thought it was slow going getting through customs. I don’t mean the line in front of me was slow; I was at the front. The guy checking my passport was just taking a really long time. I thought it might be because of my passport photo. When it was taken my hairdo was something akin to Henry Rollins’. On the day of my arrival I was sporting something more like an unwashed Pat Metheny.

Anyway, I started to suspect there might be a real problem when the young officer went off in search of a supervisor. That’s never a comforting sign at the border. Fortunately, he soon returned with no further questions or delay. He stamped my passport, smiled at me, and let me in. It was only as I getting ready for this trip that I realized what was the matter.

On my last trip to Viet Nam, my visa to enter the country was valid from June 16th. I hadn’t paid careful attention to this point and arrived in Hanoi on June 15th!

I’m sure there were all sorts of unpleasant scenarios that could have followed. Instead, they treated me like a welcome guest and made my arrival hassle free. They didn’t even say anything about it. Now that I’ve clued into it three months later, it has me thinking about the all little things people do when you’re traveling to make your stay in their country better. Quite often we don’t even notice the ways in which people go out of their way to accommodate us.. I’ll certainly enjoy this trip that much more, knowing the kindness that was extended me last time.

To add now to my litany of writing sins, I want to discuss the power of sleep. Besides providing your body with the rest that it needs, sleep is the time when your conscious mind gets turned off, and the unconscious takes over. Fortunately for the writer, the unconscious mind is often better at solving story problems than you’re awake and incessantly thinking about them.

Whenever possible, I do my writing in the morning. One’s energy is always on the increase until about mid-day, so it makes sense to write as much as possible before noon. I spend my afternoons on story planning, organization and other work. If I’m in a hot climate I’ll try and take a nap in the afternoon. I also walk a lot in the afternoons and evenings, which is another great way to think about my story.

But when it comes to stubborn story problems that I can’t think my way out off, I’ll turn to a good night’s sleep. Lots of writers like to feed their subconscious in this way, and I was not altogether surprised when I found this passage in Graham Greene’s autobiography Ways of Escape:

Dreams, perhaps because I was psychoanalysed as a boy, have always had great importance when I write…Sometimes identification with a character goes so far that one may dream his dream and not one’s own.

I have never personally had that experience. But many seemingly insurmountable story problems have vanished thanks to several hours sleep. Graham also had this to say on the subject:

I imagine all authors have found the same aid from the unconscious. The unconscious collaborates in all our work: it is a nègre we keep in the cellar to aid us. When an obstacle seems insurmountable, I read the day’s work before sleep and leave the nègre to labour in my place. When I wake the obstacle has nearly always been removed: the solution is there and obvious - perhaps it came in a dream which I have forgotten.

I had already been doing this before I knew of Graham’s methods. And I can absolutely vouch for it. If you are really doing your work, sleep does help.

Of course, thinking too much before trying to sleep has it hazards. If you’re not careful it can lead to bouts of insomnia. That will certainly adversely affect your ability to write and maybe even sap your interest in the story altogether. But I have found that by considering a single problem as I drift off to sleep, I will invariably wake up with the solution at hand. It’s not magic, and it’s probably not science either. But it does have a lot to do with making writing a balanced part of your life. Never let writing consume all of your time.

I don’t want to fall into the trap of stereotyping actors. Yet, as evinced from his style of writing, Laurence is more concerned with creating an esoteric emotion rather than relaying a clarity of thought. This may be an approach that satisfies the author, but it leaves the reader feeling puzzled. Confessions of an Actor reads like the product of an actor with a frazzled brain, who isn’t interested in details or clarity. It’s difficult to turn the pages when you haven’t made much sense of the page you’re on. In the end, Laurence only seems to be a shadow of the larger than life roles he played.

I was hoping to find some deep insight from this mighty thespian and occasional director. Instead, I spent most of the time reading passages over again trying to figure out what he was talking about. Does he even have a point? What is this chapter about? Is there any purpose to this book? These questions kept coming up as I read.

Confessions of an Actor puts things together with no sense of chronology or relatedness. The greatest revelation into Laurence’s work is his penchant for changing his appearance with a fake nose to help him find the character he is trying to become. I finished the book disappointed that he didn’t fill it with that special magical light he brings to movies.

John Huston, on the other hand, is a natural and gifted storyteller. An Open Book is basically one great story after another. Each chapter reads like a movie, ending with either a significant observation or a cliffhanger moment that keeps you enthusiastically turning the pages. John’s life is anything but dull. This is a veritable collection of rip roaring adventures from a man who truly did great things. When he relates his war experiences, or opinions of the anti-communist blacklisting in Hollywood, you really feel you are listening to an authority figure.

When I read an autobiography, I want to read honest accounts that let me into a bygone era. John shares his great admiration for his many friends and speaks modestly about his own achievements. He never sounds apologetic about his shortcomings either. Even when he glosses over a significant part of his life, he does it with flair. There is a picture in the photo section of his adopted Mexican son, Pablo. This is a great story that is only afforded two paragraphs. Throughout the book there isn’t a trace of bitterness for things that didn’t turn out favorably.

After reading both these books, I asked myself who I’d rather sit down and have dinner with. The answer of course is John Huston. Laurence’s writing makes the actor seem stuffy and a bit insecure. He’s neither elegant or enlightening with his words. John is a master storyteller who knows how to keep his audience captivated. Dinner with him every night of the week would be a real treat.

Lately it seems as if I’ve been traveling as much as I’ve been working. Travel is the greatest of escapes. It sure beats that other favorite writer’s excuse for not working - cleaning the fridge!

Not only does a trip take me outside the box, it also stimulates me with new ideas and experiences. It’s more likely that a real life situation I wouldn’t get in my regular writing space will produce that key line that transforms a scene and saves the story. Whatever I’m working on, inevitably, turns out better for a little time spent on the road. It’s not always possible to go away mid-project, so I make a point of going somewhere after completing each draft, and again before starting a new one.

I see why the writers from the classic Hollywood era did a lot of their work in hotels. I’m thinking of Robert Riskin writing for Frank Capra in Palm Springs, or Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur churning out scripts for Howard Hawks in Manhattan hotel rooms. For some reason, it’s just easier for me to get work done in hotel rooms. (Yeah I know, the above writers were all notorious for partying it up - but they completed some of their most famous work under those conditions.)

This advice, if it can be termed advice, should come with a warning. Travel can offer some great inspiration; but inspiration only accounts for two percent of a great story. The rest is perspiration - hard work!

When I settle into the hotel room after a long day of activity, I can do a whole day’s work in less time than usual. Most of the time the work is better too. If I had to guess, I’d say it has to do with the fact that while my mind was busy doing other things, the subconscious had all day to work on the story by itself. We writers carry our stories around with us for a long time, sometimes years. The mind simply can’t put it to rest because you’ve gone into escape mode. As Graham Greene wrote in Ways of Escape, “the unconscious collaborates in all our work.” I think I’ll have more to say about this later.

This rather sensational program does a pretty good job of laying out the mountains of evidence from plane crashes. In under an hour it illustrates the tiny details that resulted in a shocking loss of life.

I always thought it was an odd show to watch in Hong Kong. Most people in hotels here are probably like me - they’re flying in from one place and will soon be flying off somewhere else. Hong Kong has one of the world’s busiest airports and the average visitor only stays here for 1 or 2 nights. The day after watching Crash Scene Investigation at the hotel, they could be in a plane waiting for take-off, and start looking around the cabin for some tiny flaw that could lead to disaster.

The day before I left for Hong Kong, a 737 owned by China Airlines burst into flames after landing in Japan. It was a spectacular scene, and fortunately no one was seriously hurt. As I waited for my flight to Hong Kong, all the free newspapers in the waiting lounge had full color photos of the burning plane. No one seemed to mind these shocking images. Maybe it’s time to start showing movies with plane crashes as part of the in-flight movie.

While reading this captivating piece the question that immediately came to my mind was: when is someone going to turn this into a movie? Biopics of the recently deceased are always touchy subjects, but taking an unusual vantage point, like the point of view of the son who knew who his father was but never knew him, has real dramatic potential.

Dramatizing the obvious gap between what a person says and what he does always makes interesting viewing. This real life story even makes room for the possibility of a happy ending, with the elder Miller receiving some kind of redemption by a final noble deed prior to his death. But the article hits the mark when it suggests: “The important part of the story is that Danny transcended his father’s failures.” Could there be a better theme for a story than that?

Fortunately, I put the book aside for a while, and came back to re-read slowly, digesting each paragraph carefully. What we actually have here, is a nice novel size guide to screenwriting that every screenwriter should keep within arms reach.

I don’t really subscribe to any one screenwriting guru or trainer. (Although I do like Robert McKee’s Story a lot). I think screenwriting is something that cannot be taught; but it can be learned. Anyone who is serious about writing films should immerse themselves in the world of screenwriting. For that reason, I read just about every reputable book on the topic.

Syd Field’s Screenplay is definitely aimed at a more general, beginner audience. But don’t let that deter you from dipping into this book. Many of his ideas can be found in the works of different writers under different names. For example, McKee talks about the successful Inciting Incident as having a set-up and a payoff. In Syd’s view, they are two separate events: the inciting incident and the key incident. Anyway you look at it, it’s reassuring to know that two respected experts have arrived at similar conclusions independently.

Syd’s writing is unavoidably a bit repetitive. That serves to remind me that he is writing for a more general audience. But what he’s really trying to do is emphasize just how crucial those points are to a successful screenplay. Screenplay comes across as a light read the first time around. But if you go back to it and treat it as a serious read, digesting each point carefully, you will be impressed by Syd’s knowledge and insight. The newer edition makes use of many examples from contemporary cinema, and that can only be an added comfort for younger readers discovering Syd’s work for the first time.

This is actually the only book of Syd’s I’ve read. But the writing style is warm enough that I would consider reading anything else by him. It’s good work. This book is sure to be on my shelf until it falls apart, and then I’ll immediately order the latest edition.

I wonder how much it looks like me. It’s kind of like writing about yourself, you want to describe yourself the way you want people to see you. Thanks to Helena for brining this cool, new toy to my attention. Here’s one more of me with one of my kitties.

The legendary Italian director is another cornerstone of the art film world. Two of his most memorable films from his six decade career include “Blow-Up” and “L’Avventura.”

Once again, The Washington Post has an obituary in their online entertainment section.

The Washington Post has a well written obituary: Swedish Film Director Ingmar Bergman Dies at 89

The second-rate cinema mind has always been attracted to symbolism - the apple blossom falling in the rain, the broken glass, all the sham poetic ways of avoiding the direct statement, which demands some insight into the way men really act.

In the same piece, he describes the overused technique of filming an old man about to die. Rather than showing his death, the camera settles on the stylus of a gramophone scraping at the end of the record.

I agree completely with Graham in his take on symbolism. The trouble with symbols is that they invite clichés. An artist that uses a grand symbol may think he is being pretty clever. He may even fool himself into believing that he is doing something that has never been done before. Of course, everything has been done before and then done again. Today’s screenwriter knows that avoiding clichés is an essential part of good writing. Without any completely original ideas to work from, many writers like to start with a cliché and turn it on its head. They will write something a little different by defying an expectation. In any case, the result should be far more interesting that resorting to symbolism. A writer will never have cause to pat themselves on the back for coming up with a clever symbol.

I believe that when we invest so much of ourselves in a story that it consumes our every waking thought, the subconscious starts to take over. When we are not actively thinking about it, the subconscious continues working out problems and essential details. The more time the subconscious has to work on things, the clearer the results will be.

My favorite ways of procrastinating are walking and sleeping. Taking long walks is a meditative experience. While the exercise raises your heart rate, your legs are the only part of your body working and in need of more oxygen. The leftover extra oxygen that is produced then goes to your brain and you end up thinking more clearly than usual. Many a story problem can be solved with a leisurely walk. In any given day, I actually spend more time walking that writing. But when I do sit down to write, I always know what to say, because it’s been in my mind for hours.

You should never procrastinate to the point where you don’t get any work done. Set a deadline and make sure you write the required number of pages every day so you meet that deadline. But don’t worry that waiting as long as possible before putting the words on the page is going to hurt your writing. Take your time and meet your deadlines. It will all work out.

The Rules

1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Eight Facts About Me

1. I read fewer than eight blogs so finding people to play along means seeking out new blogs.
2. I fart way too much.
3. I’m fluent in Chinese and sometimes dream in that language.
4. I drink 4 bottles of Gatorade everyday.
5. I like to take two naps everyday.
6. I forgot how to cook.
7. I don’t know nearly as much about things as most people assume.
8. I have a stalker so I always lie online about where I live.

Now the hard part: finding eight willing participants. Here goes anything:

David Hodge
Helena Bouchez
Ray DeRousse
Swifty
Adam
Dan Denley
Gishdog
Darrin Koltow