Ever wonder who the faceless drones are who help bring you-yes, you the living-the mass entertainment you so wantonly crave are? Me neither..well, occasionally

Name Redacted] came from humble beginnings, a small town outside of [City Redacted]. After graduating from college, [Name Redacted] moved to Hollywood to pursue a career in entertainment. He/She first landed a job at [Agency Name Redacted], working for an agent with a penchant for throwing phones. Or better put, this agent had a penchant for throwing phones at [Name Redacted]. Rather than play "face catch," [Name Redacted] took a job at a competing agency. It is during that time that our winner stole the title of "The Miracle Worker" from Helen Keller and never gave it back.

Funny stuff at The Hollywood Temp.

- Machine is back with an interesting project.  1) At 6pm on Sunday July 6th a stuntman will leap from Machine Project’s 2nd story window. We would like to invite folks to attend and document the leap with a miniDV camera and then give us the video footage (tapes to be provided, unless you want to donate one) to be edited to create a very clumsy “Matrix” effect that suspends the stuntperson in mid-air with a 360 degree pan. Please email us at machine@machineproject.com with subject line JUMP if you're interested in participating.

- Sujewa Ekanayake work on his doc The Indie Film Bloggers: A Portrait of a Community.  If you are one or both of the fore-mentioned, check it out.

- Vanity Fair's Bright Young Hollywood?  KAT DENNINGS Age: 22. Hometown: Philadelphia. Breakthrough role: Catherine Keener’s daughter in The 40-Year-Old Virgin. Upcoming film: The House Bunny. Number of shoes in your closet? “I would say at this moment a conservative number would be 40 pairs because I’ve gotten rid of a lot. I mean, I’m adding to them, though, sadly, so soon it will be 50 pairs.” Hmm, I wonder.

 -Finally, if you are not already a fan you will be. Mad Men is out on DVD this week.

June 27, 2008

 Is my heart dying fast or am I just living? Am I missing something? Should I embrace what I haven’t? I should work harder, drink less, and try to move in a direction that is more honest? But when you do what I do, well..

Evening Commute Drink Club

The first rule of evening commute drink club is that you do not talk about evening commute drink club. The second rule of evening commute drink club is that you do not talk about evening commute drink club.

This should be obvious.

The third rule of evening commute drink club is that you do not talk or text on your cell during ECDC. You only have two hands and to be toooo greedy, well, that hazard speaks for itself. CHP is in a deep budget crisis and they are just looking for an excuse on the 405, the 110, the 10, the 60, the 105, and of course the 91. Besides, you will probably say something you truly regret to the friend or lover who jilted you years a go (which you keep in your contacts for this very reason) but don’t press those numbers. It can but open another can of worms for you to deal with on top of keeping your car in the proper lane.

Leave it.

The fourth rule of ECDC is to always use an inconspicuous container. A Bud Ice can screams stop me for I want the attention and drama of getting caught. If you are still in this stage you do not belong in ECDC. Make you way home and lay your head in your Mother’s lap. If she is no longer around, search out the legally youngest friend you have and split a six of Zuma and tell them all about it.

The fifth rule of ECDC is do not give into the temptation of checking out your fellow motorist no matter how hot or insane or rich they may be. There is only one reason to take your eyes off the road during ECDC and that is for the world-shattering occurrence of a dog or cat darting out in front of you.  ECDC is hard-pressed to give advice in this triptych so suffice it to say hurt yourself before you hurt others (or your cocktail)

The sixth rule of ECDC is do not, no matter what high school anthem comes on the radio or you manage to punch up your Ipodwalkman, turn up the volume to murderous levels. The desire to lip-sync, or even worse, start dancing in the saddle only attracts unwanted attention and we all know where that leads to while sipping on a Nail Bomb in a plastic gator-aid bottle; jail, or worse.

A word to the wise. More to come.

(via flickr pool member Susan Catherine)

As the credits rolled at the end of Jeremy Osbern’s feature film Air, I looked at my wife and said “Wow, that was not only a good indie film, it made me feel good.” Rare these days as too many indie filmmakers are content to film their navels while mumbling to someone who may or may not be a stranger in the corner of a room something like “I dunno..maybe?” It is all one can do to sit through these valiant efforts, much less enjoy them. Granted, Jeremy and his team at Through a Glass Productions are not exactly beginners-Jeremy is an award-winning filmmaker in his I believe, late twenties and Producer Christopher Blunk has an accomplished track record in his own right-but together they made this movie in their home town of Lawrence, KS with mostly homegrown talent, moxie, and a love of community that comes through every frame.

“Air” is an original musical, at once a romantic comedy and a drama as it tracks three ordinary folks who feel out of place in the world. Not pandering to stereotypes, Osbern and co-writer Blunk frame a middle-age African-American falling for a lonely soul in a country western bar. Lovely without being saccharine, Granvile O’Neal and Brenda Harvey sing and dance in Osbern’s (another triple or quadruple threat) excellent cinematography, which never misses a beat the entire film. Nothing short of professional.

Ian Stark and Megan Carter meet in a head-on collision. Not the most auspicious start to unlocking one’s heart, but if Air drives home one point, it’s that it doesn’t matter how you get there, just get there. Dylan Hilpman and Jennifer Coville are young lovers who get lost amid the pitfalls of youth (Oh! Ambition!) as he looks for the perfect song, blind to the fact it was at his elbow the whole time.

All the performances are heartfelt and the dramatic moments come with pounds. I was amazed at how good they looked on screen (my LA moment-sue me) But all the tech savvy, beautiful people, and camera tricks in the world don’t amount to a hill of beans if the story does not have honest, universal, emotional chops. Seek this one out. It’s good stuff from Kansas.

Last night saw me and me chum Rita Thompson hitting the Hammer to take in Roy Anderson's latest, You, the Living, as part of the LA Film Festival. The film screened at 10 PM on a Monday night but the line was not a zoo at the Billy Wilder Theater and we got seats. For those readers familiar with Roy Anderson's previous film Songs From the Second Floor or his commercials for TV, you know what you've come for. Tragicomedy in one take in one frame. Genius when it works as it did for most of Songs.

You, the Living  is an exploration on the "grandeur of existence, centered around the lives of an overweight woman, a disgruntled psychiatrist, a heart broken groupie, a carpenter, a business consultant, an elementary school teacher with emotional issues and her rug selling husband, among others. I admit it flags at times, eliciting one or two audience members to laughter, but rarely the way I saw it.

Shot in an unconventional manner, it consists of a fluent succession of exactly 50 short set-ups each filmed in one take. Most of them have an absurd but all-too-human undertone. It utilizes a combination of alienating techniques such as presenting the characters in grim make-up and having them talk to the camera, turning them into highly expressed folks you see everyday but fail to see as well.

Anderson can be heavy-handed in his feelings about the death penalty (the set-up is funny as the devil) and other issues he feels strongly about. But when these moments flag, there is always his amazing production design (all scenes are filmed on sound stages!) and framing. A dream of a groupie at home after her wedding is flat-out amazing.

The audience laughter died out abit after the opening sequence but I chalk that up to mostly not knowing how to take Anderson. Is he being mean? Sarcastic? Serious? Funny? I can't think of a better compliment to pay a filmmaker, who while you decide on those questions, wows you with his moviemaking.

Mark Gill, former President of Miramx films, and current CEO of the The Film Department, delivers some sobering but hopeful advice on the state and future of independent film at an LA Film Fest Conference. In short, make fewer better films:

In the most reductionist fashion: tere's the holy trinity of structure, character and dialogue, of course; the crucial if more ephemeral notions of authenticity, voice, theme, and tone; and the imperative for originality of utterance and perception.

In the end, all of this has to add up (seamlessly if possible) to something that moves us-- to the quality of the emotional content. It doesn't matter if we're talking about thrills, laughs, tears, or an adrenaline rush. What matters is that we are engaged and, ideally, emotionally transformed and satisfied.

In a world increasingly dominated by numbers--financial, technological and most importantly the finite number of hours in a day, our very human desire for contact, meaning and emotional transformation isn't going away. It's growing. Those who remember that will survive and most probably win.

Everyone should be able to make a film if they want. Of course. But don't expect for your film to a success if its no good, despite the tons of marketing you might throw at it. Brutal but true.

George Carlin, the Grammy-Award winning standup comedian and actor who was hailed for his irreverent social commentary, poignant observations of the absurdities of everyday life and language, and groundbreaking routines like “Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television,” died in Santa Monica, Calif., on Sunday, according to his publicist, Jeff Abraham. He was 71.

One of the few joys of trudging through the jungle of these internets is coming across some damn funny writing. In this case it's Steve Boone over at Spout who watches movies in a very unusual place with some unusual people

Without our movies, what have we got? A bunch of homeless guys with no more than a bag of clothes, some food stamps and dollar store toiletries each between us. There’s only so much shit-talking and communal daydreaming (typically about which beautiful celebrity we would treat to multiple orgasms) one can do in the downtime, the hours between 5pm and lights out. And we can’t bring women in here. And we keep forgetting to buy a cheap chess board. And the streets of East New York are no place to find non-lethal distraction. Gunfights every night.

Read it.

 Most filmmakers-but not all-are driven to pick up a camera and start shooting because they saw a movie that just blew them away and they had to make one, if not just like it, then something damn close. The Yuzzi Brothers (Co Directors Thomas Vosicky and Kenneth Kit Lamug) shot their first full-length film, "Vegasland", for a budget of under $2,000. It was shot mainly during Wednesdays and Thursdays between the times of 9pm and 3am in various locations throughout Las Vegas using "Guerilla filmmaking tactics". Most of the editing was done in home computers with software available to anyone: Truly Indie Filmmaking.

The Yuzzi Brothers do wear their influences (Guy Ritchie, Quentin Tarantino) on their collective sleeves but lack of originality never trumps style and technique in Las Vegas, right?

Professional Gambler, Eddie G, played very well by Ernell Manabat, is taken in for the ride of his life as he unwillingly helps a dirty-psychotic cop, Decker (Greg Opal) Decker takes Eddie on a tour of terror while trying to find a meth addict named Worm (Jeffrey Crawford) who has a video tape of an underground fight where everything went awry.

What blew me away with Vegasland is the sheer number of characters and locations in a no-budget film. True, the pacing is disrupted a few too many times by extended riffs straight out of Pulp Fiction, and the way it was structured and shot in ‘modules’ or set pieces (one of which involves some scorpions!) but then the filmmakers kick the narrative back into gear and zoom, off we go again. The performances are believable despite several misfires and one cares about the players which is what story is all about.

The movie was shot using a Panasonic DVX100 and downloaded and edited using a 500GB USB drive. Go here to check out these very talented filmmakers.

David Branin and DreamRegimeproductions have announced they are about to shoot their first full-length feature, Night Before the Wedding. "I have a strong, passionate team involved
with this one.  It will easily be my best work upon it's completion."
 Without further ado, go here and congrats David and Team.

- Go to ExploreTalent.com for your casting needs. They make it as easy as possible.

- Never Say Macbeth is coming out on DVD, oddly enough, at about the same time Hamlet 2 hits theaters in August. In Never Say Macbeth, a science teacher says "Macbeth" in a theater and unleashes mayhem upon a troupe of actors. It's a cross between Waiting for Guffman and Beetlejuice.

- Two Nobel prize winners, Kenzaburo Oe and Orhan Pamuk discuss the West and its influences.

- File under JESUS!!: "The FBI raided  Ira Isaacs’ Koreatown offices in January 2007. “The FBI guys were really nice,” Isaacs says. “[One] asked me, ‘How do you get girls to eat shit?’ I never had a problem getting real pretty girls for $500 or $600 — they were attracted because there’s no sex involved and such a little audience for these films that no one’s going to recognize them. Plus, “I don’t have that much talent to compete with artists,” Isaacs says in his New York accent. “I chose shit to get to the ****ing edge.” 
 

  It’s a cliché now I suppose that really indie films-shorts and features- usually, one, involve people in a room torturing each other and the viewer; or two, are made for other ‘indie’ artists to watch and plug; or three (perhaps the one most prickly) made to get Hollywood’s-or any patron of the arts-attention. Despite there being a grain of truth in these cynical assumptions, I believe that some folks still make films or music or paintings, et al. because they simply enjoy the process, much like a carpenter enjoys building a a fine bench.

 Amir Motlagh, an artist of many hyphenates, sent along two of his short film works, Plain Us and Knock Knock for HIT to take a look at. Mr. Motlagh is one to take events and experiences of his life and plane them into fiction that shoot for a reality that the rest of us can relate to. By and large, he hits more than he misses (Mumble Idiots-ah ehm) in that he stretches out little moments that might otherwise be tossed in the trash.

In Knock Knock ,a really appealing Chris Manz plays a struggling internet comic, more or less dealing with the real demands of age who attains a wistful kind of fame. Of course an old girlfriend comes calling and old ambitions and wounds are brought up.  Shot in 16mm (!) Knock Knock looks good on DVD, a credit to cinematographer Zamir Kokonozi. Moments of  honesty retreat into silence, nice photographs, original music, et al; not enough to engage the viewer in 20 minutes, despite the miles-wide open Manz and the efforts of co-stars Keaton Shyler and Lene Pederson.

Plain Us..Rock..and..Roll. Mr. Motlagh ratchets it up a notch, mixing it up, batting it this way and that, getting to the heart of the matter. He plays a singer/leader of a rock band who has to come home again. Of course it hurts when there is a wife and daughter you rarely see. Shrudder..Yet, filmmaking-wise, the short looks good. Color-Correction, framing, the elements are there. Kindy Barr dials in a good performance as the put-upon young Mom opposite Motlagh who is wildly photogenic in musician mode. He steals the frame in this capacity and is quiet believable on screen. Theme-wise, I'm not sure his goals come across powerfully to the viewer but is that so important? At the end of the day you express yourself and put it out there. Only he-Mr. Motlagh-knows for sure or not if he is enjoying building the bench.

 I want to believe he is.

- Intriguing news, even if just a rumour. PT Anderson might be considering a script from-set down your coffee- from Variety's Peter Bart (!) about the war between the casinos and Native Americans called Power Play with Jack Nicholson  possibly attached. Check out Cigarettes and Red VInes and HE for more.

- Filmmaker/Writer David Lowery reviews Carlos Reygadas's Silent Night for Hammer to Nail.

- Our web serial Masher will be up very soon. Promises, promises, I know, but we did run into some bumps in the road in the form of a flying Gus, day-job intrusions, lost weekends, etc., but we are on track now.

DVD reccos: Blast of Silence, early noir minamalism; and the Romanian  07 Palmd'Or  winner,4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, which the lovely Ms. Dargis called "a ferocious, unsentimental, often brilliantly directed film about a young woman who helps a friend secure an abortion, the camera doesn’t follow the action, it expresses consciousness itself. "

The best trailer mash-up I have seen in awhile. The Happening meets Rerun and What's Happening. Priceless.

Chuck Palahniuk is not everyone's cup of snake venom as he has become a bit rote as of late (the Stephen King  psycho-punk of serial novels?) but I am interested in how the film version of his novel Choke, starring Sam Rockwell and Angelica Houston, will turn out,  especially when the Fox Pub Depart. is handing out anal beads to promote the film

In a new interview with the Daily Texan, Palahniuk thanked Fox for the anal beads: "And then also 20th Century Fox is gearing up to publicize 'Choke,' so they have all these Chinese factory anal beads."

No mistake about it, a tough market these days. Watch the trailer here.

Post Script: Novelist Lucy Ellmann reviewing Palahniuk's latest, Snuff, for the NYTS

What the hell is going on? The country that produced Melville, Twain and James now venerates King, Crichton, Grisham, Sebold and Palahniuk. Their subjects? Porn, crime, pop culture and an endless parade of out-of-body experiences. Their methods? Cliché, caricature and proto-Christian morality. Props? Corn chips, corpses, crucifixes. The agenda? Deceit: a dishonest throwing of the reader to the wolves. And the result? Readymade Hollywood scripts.

Hahaha...eh-hum, she's right.