What's in a Name?

Dearest Reader, I am referring to the illustrious name of this blog, "Fuck You Too And the Porsche You Rode In On." I felt that I should provide a bit of perspective on what the blog's name means for me and for you, the digital revolutionary:

1) Besides how it just feels good to say "fuck you" to those who deserve it, the blog's name is obviously a shout out from a writer and filmmaker with a chip on both shoulders about our media establishment. After all, until very recently they have enjoyed a disproportionate control over the destinies of creators--and they'll continue to hold sway a little while longer until access to filmmaking is entirely democratized (and it will be). Yes, "revenge is a dish best served by writers," I like to say (and I like to say it especially cuz I made it up).

2) This blog's title is deliberately subversive, if a bit sophomoric. While there's something thrilling about the words "fuck you," to actually have the words instantly published for the world to see, well that's just downright empowering. Sort of like the first time I wrote something on a bathroom wall. It was third grade and I wrote the words "Pink Dink" in ballpoint pen with my heart in my throat. I'll never forget it. Someone would read those words, I thought. I put them there, and in the privacy of this stall no one would ever know it was me. So this blog's title takes me back to that thrill of doing something naughty. And if ever there was a time for filmmakers to be naughty, it's now. The threat of studio executives being able to control the content we create vanishes more so every day. You can create a television show with tits and cocks and swear words if you want. If you think revealing body parts in all their glory keeps your creation truer to your artistic vision, there's no reason to compromise. Write it and shoot it and get it out there for us to see. The ultimate arbiter of taste will be the consumer of your creation, not advertisers or executives.

Art needs subversion. Subversion needs art. And don't for a moment think that there's a single great artistic endeavor, including every film "classic," that hasn't contained a healthy dose of subversion. The digital revolution is subversion. Embrace it. Use it. Fuck it.

What's in a Name? (Part II)

You might have noticed, all three of you, that the title of this blog isn't the same as the blog's URL address. The blog's URL address is http://mewanthorsie. blogspot.com/ (or "me want horsie" for those of you incapable of deciphering personalized licence plates). At the time I created this blog, I didn't really know why I chose that. It was instinct and a riff on the "horse you rode in on" theme. But only today did I realize there was more to it (a writer's subconscious is ever at work)...and it has a lot to do with a profound shift in the ways I am now consuming film and TV.

You've heard it before: The distribution and consumption of film is changing forever. And like you (and a whole bunch of Brits), I watch less TV than I used to. In fact, there are shows I really want to see because of the good word-of-mouth, like NBC's Heroes, but I don't even know what night they're on and I just don't have the will anymore to bother figuring that out. Because my HABITS have changed. Keep in mind that a habit is something that isn't necessarily good for you, nor rational. It's just what we default towards out of, well...habit. And my habit is not to even look at a TV schedule, nor to care about what that schedule might reveal. A sexy scandalous new TV movie? Whatevah. An all new episode of Lost? I just don't feel like organizing my life around it. And with the increase in serialized storylines (shows that tell on-going stories that evolve over a season, rather than self-contained shows like Law & Order) I just can't bear to watch a show partway through a series having missed so much supposedly "good stuff." I want to start with episode one. Call me obsessive compulsive, my therapist does.

So instead, I watch good TV on DVD, so I can watch it whenever I want. The downside, obviously, is the long wait until the show is released on disc. So, what will bring me back to "network television"? Downloadable content that's what. I realize just how much the Internet has re-programmed my viewing appetite. I don't want to be home on Thursday night at 8 pm to catch a show. I can barely remember to eat dinner let alone keep a specific hour of my life free for a television program that might be a repeat or pre-empted by a football game. And I most definitely don't want to fiddle with a contraption I don't even own to record the show for me (a la TiVo or what have you).

To sum up what I want: well...me want horsie, that's what! The immortal words of a petulant, spoiled child who gets what she wants, when she wants. I want to Google the show, click download and a few minutes thereafter, I wanna watch it. Give me a link to Heroes right now and I swear to gawd I'll give it whirl. Note: BitTorrent is a lot of work and full of viruses and incomplete or bogus files. And I'm not talking about stealing programs anyhow. I'm talking about being more than happy to pay for them, or alternatively accept the advertisements contained therein. Get downloadable Internet content on my TV now and someone will be making a fortune off me and my brethren. Microsoft is already in on the game--they smell the revolution. Check out Xbox Live, which is allowing for video rental downloads, including HD movies and TV programs. So strange how quickly the traditional model of television delivery seems completely counter-intuitive. We will gravitate to whatever technology suits our fundemental nature. And rushing through traffic so I don't miss the first ten minutes of "Who Cares" doesn't suit my nature any longer. I want my MTV whenever I want it, from whomever I want it, and for that matter I want to be able to make my own MTV too. Feed me, Seymour. Me want horsie, now!

THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE CAMERA

As a rabid believer in the cult of DIY filmmaking, I found Craig Mazin's Nov 5 post, "A Widening Chasm Part II" over at Artful Writer to be particularly relevant. The blog in general is wonderfully revolutionary, advocating strategies for empowering the much neglected screenwriter. And the reason I find the Widening Chasm post particularly prescient is that it's speaking of a trend which dovetails so well (and probably not so coincidentally) with the "democratization of filmmaking" (i.e., the notion that soon anyone can get their hands on a good "film" camera and editing system). Mazin discusses the recent shift in film financing models wherein risk averse studios are being "scooped" by private financiers on some of the most creatively interesting projects. An artist like Sacha Baron Cohen, for example, is retaining control both creatively and financially by using private financing to produce his next film, which he will then in turn SELL to a studio which can still do a handy job of marketing and distribution. Mazin points out that the trend is growing. It's a model that allows a writer and director to package their own film and retain greatly increased creative and financial control (to the tune of millions more right into the artist's pocket).

For me, it's exciting to read about artists owning their work, but I find it particularly interesting that this shift in film financing coincides with the digital revolution, which is putting video cameras in everyone's hands. While many blogs herald the increased power to filmmakers as a result of the digital revolution (even the likes of Atom Egoyan state that he'll simply make his films using digital means if a studio were to ever threaten his final cut authority), in fact it's the writers who stand to benefit the most. And here's why.

In the end, when film is so democratized that everyone has access to a good "film" camera, it's the writer (who may also be the director, but often is not) who will be revealed as the rarest commodity. Yes, Hollywood and stars and big-shot directors have long declared their devotion to "good material," but the fact is writers are treated like shite. To paraphrase Joe Esterhas, Hollywood accepts the adage that "nobody knows anything," but everyone still thinks they know everything about screenwriting. You see, screenwriting, well it's just typing after all. Or failing that, we all know how to print in block letters with a crayon (thank you Mrs. Rumsey, I loved kindergarten). Yes, the talented writer has always been rare, but apparently not so rare that he doesn't take a serious back seat to "the money" (that is, people in suits who control the millions of dollars traditionally required to secure the necessary crews and equipment to make a film). Certainly, writers have been considered much less important than the director who does technically baffling magic tricks with cinematographic machines and dangerously hot lights. Ah, but the financial barriers controlled by the studios are eroding--the Avid suite that once cost a million bucks can now be had for the price of a thousand dollar PC and some pirated software. And the mystery of the directors' tools is eroding too. How ironic that in the end, it's the humble quill pen that could win out. That's my prediction.

Because soon every kid in school will be able to shoot pretty pictures with the visual lattitude and dreamy resolution of 35mm film (just check out the Red Camera). Oh, and the same high school kid can add stunning Hollywood-level visual effects right from his home computer too. The necessary equipment simply gets more powerful and cheaper every day. I believe that in the near future, everyone will try her hand at filmmaking--at least once, and probably dismally--just as I'm sure every last literate human has at least tried to write a novel, only to get no further than the first paragraph. I think the demand for stories will only go up as the number of films being produced increases exponentially too. Finally, all the lovely moving images which so many aspiring filmmakers are churning out daily will highlight more than ever how a film needs a great writer. It will be the product with brilliant writing that will stand out, not so much the product with production values. You see, everyone will have production values.

Of course, a talented cinematographer is a talent to behhold, but I have a feeling that cameras and the directors who wield them will soon be relegated to that place where they're seen as a little more "replaceable"--the same corner where writers have cowered so long--and maybe the mighty pen will assume its rightful place at last.

BACK TO HOME.