Sorry for going two solid months without a single post. Without going into too much detail, I just got too busy taking care of other things. Something had to give way, and that turned out to be the blogging habit.

And that is a shame, because I really enjoy doing this. But as I like to explain to people, my life is divided into five neat little sections: sleep, work, family, music, and writing. Not in that order: sleep always goes last. In fact, it’s 2 a.m. right now. Anyway, things got all unbalanced and I had to crank the writing section down. I was writing, but it was exclusively screenplay-related stuff.

So, though I already said I was sorry, I’ll try make up for it by telling you a funny little story. A story about crummy writing, A story about a crummy writing in a crummy movie.

Several years ago, my wife and Mysti– a friend of ours and a talented writer– were having a movie marathon at the house. I wasn’t there when they went to Blockbuster and I did not get to pick some of the DVDs, so one of the movies they grabbed was Return To Me (d. Bonnie Hunt, 2000).

Yeah, that Bonnie Hunt. It was the first theatrical film she directed– and her last. Here’s the summary, by Stephen Hughes via the IMDb:

Bob Rueland (David Duchovny), a Chicago building contractor, cherishes life with his veterinarian wife (Joely Richardson) until she is tragically killed in an automobile accident. Meanwhile the family and friends of Grace Briggs (Minnie Driver), a waitress at a local Italian restaurant, are overjoyed when they learn that Grace will finally get a replacement heart (the heart of Bob’s wife). Both Bob and Grace struggle to maintain normal lives after these traumatic events, until fate intervenes and brings them together.

(an aside: The phrase “tragically killed in an automobile accident” is seen quite commonly, but doesn’t it strike you as a strange qualification? “Joe Smith was hilariously killed in an automobile accident, after losing control of his car while furiously pleasuring himself listening to Katy Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl.”)

So the girls got themselves a bona-fide chick flick to watch. I joined in for the beginning. Joely Richardson’s doomed veterinarian character specialized in primate research at the zoo. One gorilla in particular was taken by her joyous spirit and, whenever she came close to his cage, he would put his hand up to the glass. Having read the snap-case and knowing what was in store for her, I thought: “No. You are friggin’ kidding me! Are they really gonna hang a lantern on that?”

Minutes later, Joely is “tragically” killed, David Duchovny cries his eyes out (the weirdest part of the movie, like “X-Files” weird), and Minnie gets Joely’s heart. A year passes. Minnie,with her swell new ticker, is on an outing at the zoo with her friend’s kids. She takes them to see the gorillas…

I said, “If that gorilla touches that f***ing glass, I’m outta here!”

Mysti said, “Won’t happen. They wouldn’t–”

–as if on cue, as Minnie came close the gorilla touched the f***ing glass.

I went back downstairs.

And a new in-joke was born. To this day, during the (all too common) horribly predictable bit of a movie any of the three of us will lean over and whisper to the others, “The gorilla is gonna touch the glass!” Always good for a laugh.

-Skot C.

From the IMDb:

Mike Myers’s The Love Guru , which is being released on Friday, is receiving so many blistering early reviews that Los Angeles Times writer Tom O’Neil, who tracks films up for major awards in his column “Gold Derby,” is predicting that the film may be a shoo-in for the Razzie for worst film of the year.

Slate’s review subtitle on the front page says it all: “Even worse than you thought it would be.”

To paraphrase another godawful comedy featuring another past-his-prime, perpetually infantile, creatively exhausted SNL alumni: You don’t mess with the TPN::Box Office Weekly.

–Skot C.

Last fall John (the co-writer of the thing) and I took a free half-hour of advice from Robert Hawk, a New York indie heavyweight. He suggested a staged reading. Sounded like a good idea, so when we had draft thirteen locked, we got the ball rolling.

It’s been an interesting experience, and we haven’t even put the thing on yet.

It started with auditions: Sixty-five applicants, mostly women (the majority of roles in the screenplay are for actresses) narrowed down to eight: One exceptional actress to read the protagonist, four fine actresses to read the 30-odd other female roles, two excellent actors for the male parts, and a leather-lunged voice-over specialist to read the “left-hand:” The scene headers and descriptions, about 16,000 words.

After the very first table reading with the full cast, John and I made a crucial discovery: A film script may jump off the page when it is being read silently, but when it’s being read out loud by a narrator and actors those little left-hand descriptions that seem so important to a scene’s definition mostly killed the actor’s momentum. So a big job two weekends ago was to produce a special “Staged Reading” version of the script with lots of left-hand blah-blah cut out to allow unbroken stretches of dialog.

This is all new to us. I can’t tell you who is least experienced with the world of live theater, me or John. Well, I got some Children’s theater work in during High School, and I took a course in direction in college, but neither of us as far as I know has ever taken an acting class.

The most interesting aspect is how the thing has mushroomed in terms of the importance of the event. It was originally intended to workshop the script– just the actors, John and I, running the whole script to find out what works and what doesn’t. As things have turned out, events have somewhat overtaken us: The buzz the story generated (as I mentioned a while ago, it kills every time we pitch it) has got some people interesting in attending the reading. L.A. people.

It’s set to go off in less than two weeks. Stay tuned.

–Skot C.

The program kicked off with a few truly interesting little shorts: A lovely narrative about visiting an elephant sanctuary in Thailand, a few well-done music videos, and a strange little 2-minuter about the “Pink Umbrella Man,” a fixture in Santa Cruz’s downtown who has apparently recently gone missing.

About halfway through the program “Arrangements” started. It was very well received, and not just by the many, many members of the cast and crew in attendance. The audience laughed where the humorous parts were written, gasped when the reality-fraying ultra-fast montages went off. The applause at the credits was genuine, warm and wide-spread.

A few shorts later and the program concluded. The directors, including Chip Street, came to the stage for Q and A. The very first audience question was on “Arrangements:”

“Was that movie based on actual events?”

Talk about a gratifying moment.

I’m paraphrasing here, but his response: “No, it was a work of fiction– but it had some real-life elements to it. Skot wrote it, and he’s here somewhere, I think.” From my seat, I did that modest hand-wave to the audience. Faye, the producer, took the next moment to mention the short film screenplay contest I bested to have it produced.

I don’t think of myself as a fame hound, but it was a rather intense minute or so of public acknowledgement.

Afterwards in the lobby and in front of the theatre, I had a chance to say hello and hang a bit with the artists and craftspeople who made “Arrangements” come to life. I realized, for many, it was in all likelihood a last goodbye. “Arrangements” is sitting on my desk at work as an HDCAM master, and the DVD festival version is already out in the world. Faye took the last Cinemar short (”The Coyote and the Ten Gallon Hat”) into the festival circuit: ours will in all likelihood follow suit.

The story of incredible collective creative effort to bring a modest, unlikely 11-page story to life is over. The next chapter in its life has begun.

–Skot C.

In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talents, new creations. The new needs friends.

Sure, we both take swipes at things that are bad or silly or excessive, but these criticisms are generally leveled at systemic problems (goodie bags, tiny video, labor issues, popcorn prices) or the personal shortcomings of the celebrated (Amy Winehouse, Kate Hudson, Sofia Coppola). We generally leave movies alone to live or die by their own lights, sniping only parenthetically or, in the case of the podcast, through brief, witty, withering wordplay.

What makes me proud of the site is the fact we take the time to highlight new discoveries (”Life on Mars,” “Torchwood,” the Heroic Cheerleader sub-genre, The Met in HD). One of the more satisfying aspect of the general editorial direction here– completely unbidden, mind you, just something Dan and I do– is re-evaluate and recommend older works (Brute Force, Lolita, Basic Instinct). It may not seem like it when the articles are skimmed, but one of the hallmarks of TPN:: Box Office Weekly is a generally positive approach to the creative works of others, reserving harsher criticism for the business itself.

Having said all that, I have to break precedent and go after a film based solely on it’s preview.

Based just on said trailer, The Love Guru™ looks like one of the worst movies to come along in quite a while. Watch the preview if you don’t believe me, or the annoyingly web 2.0 home page. Whatever comedic magic Mike Meyers had has been dissipated: Whatever new or original ideas he brought to his movies seem to have abandoned him. It is also offensive on it’s face, with midget jokes and Indian stereotypes mis-fired by the bushel basket. Meyer’s “Guru Pitka” seem to be another variant on an Austin Powers-type character, a vaguely 60s-era pastiche.

Am I judging The Love Guru™ by it’s trailer? Yeah, for two good reasons: Hey, if you’re marketing a comedy aren’t you supposed to put the funniest parts of the film in it? If this is a Hollywood verity, than something has gone seriously off the rails here. Secondly, from what I could glean (First saw the trailer a few night ago on broadcast: it thudded so loudly, this article had to be created to counter it) this thing is so stunningly reprehensible I believe this break from our editorial practices is something of a public service.

Namaste,

–Skot C.