Thursday, July 20, 2006
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Emotion Delivery Engineer: Part One
The more I read, the more I watch, the more I write, the more I understand that storytelling, in any genre, is about the delivery of emotions. When you pick up a book or go to a movie, see a play, listen to your grandma, you are doing so with the expectation of feeling something. You want an emotional ride.
You ask the storyteller to throw you into misery to make you laugh, into confusion help you make sense, into terror to let you feel relief, into the lives of the alienated so that you might feel connected. If these expectations aren't fulfilled you feel unsatisfied. Comedy's gotta make you laugh and horror's gotta make you feel scared or you feel cheated.
For writers and performers it can make for difficult times especially when you decide to bend or blend genres, or shift tone within a piece.
The first time I remember this happening to me was while I was a teenager watching Jimmy Stewart in No Time for Comedy on some CBC afternoon movie or something. The first half of the movie played like a Frank Kapra comedy, fun and quirky... then at the halfway point of the movie, it became a drama. And it kinda makes sense the screenwriter was one of the writers on Casablanca... and Arsenic and Old Lace. Two great films... one weird mash up.
The experience was interesting... but I wouldn't call it enjoyable.
I find I'm learning a lot about craft by looking at the reasons I look forward to or enjoy particular books or movies. Why do I keep going back to the same writers, the same directors, the same books, the same movies again and again.
I suggest we're looking for the creation or repetition of a feeling... a satisfying emotional experience. I think this is why certain authors and filmmakers become brands. You know what you're going to get if you pick up a Charles Dickens, Margaret Atwood, Bernard Cornwell, Nick Hornby; see a film by Kapra, Kurasawa or the Coen brothers; just as sure as you know what you're going to get if you watch The Simpsons, Deadwood, Frasier, or Felicity (okay, I don't know about Felicity but I bet the people that liked it... liked it.)
I'm saying there's something more than style. There's a feeling you want to have when you experience a story that has nothing to do with special effects or movie stars but has to do with fulfilling the emotional need of the audience.
The writer's job is, through story, to deliver it.
You ask the storyteller to throw you into misery to make you laugh, into confusion help you make sense, into terror to let you feel relief, into the lives of the alienated so that you might feel connected. If these expectations aren't fulfilled you feel unsatisfied. Comedy's gotta make you laugh and horror's gotta make you feel scared or you feel cheated.
For writers and performers it can make for difficult times especially when you decide to bend or blend genres, or shift tone within a piece.
The first time I remember this happening to me was while I was a teenager watching Jimmy Stewart in No Time for Comedy on some CBC afternoon movie or something. The first half of the movie played like a Frank Kapra comedy, fun and quirky... then at the halfway point of the movie, it became a drama. And it kinda makes sense the screenwriter was one of the writers on Casablanca... and Arsenic and Old Lace. Two great films... one weird mash up.
The experience was interesting... but I wouldn't call it enjoyable.
I find I'm learning a lot about craft by looking at the reasons I look forward to or enjoy particular books or movies. Why do I keep going back to the same writers, the same directors, the same books, the same movies again and again.
I suggest we're looking for the creation or repetition of a feeling... a satisfying emotional experience. I think this is why certain authors and filmmakers become brands. You know what you're going to get if you pick up a Charles Dickens, Margaret Atwood, Bernard Cornwell, Nick Hornby; see a film by Kapra, Kurasawa or the Coen brothers; just as sure as you know what you're going to get if you watch The Simpsons, Deadwood, Frasier, or Felicity (okay, I don't know about Felicity but I bet the people that liked it... liked it.)
I'm saying there's something more than style. There's a feeling you want to have when you experience a story that has nothing to do with special effects or movie stars but has to do with fulfilling the emotional need of the audience.
The writer's job is, through story, to deliver it.
Why I'm glad the world isn't HBO (revised)
I was out for my evening walk (that I say is for fresh air but is really to avoid writing work) last night. When I stumbled upon several of the boys from Sketch22 sitting down and having a beer. Sketch22, for those who may not know is a sketch comedy group... a troupe... gang... here in Charlottetown. They are enjoying their third summer of fairly large and often sold out houses, but aren't without controversy. It doesn't seem to bother most of them.
Anyway, after they were gracious enough to invite me to join them, conversation turned to the shows everybody's been watching and in particular HBO's very fine Deadwood. Now not everybody had seen it, some had been meaning to watch it, some had only watched season one, some season two, and a couple of us have been enjoying season three, but we all agreed what a fine show it was and what a shame that HBO wasn't going to let them do a fourth season. But that HBO had a lot of fine programming.
This led to one of the guys to say: "Man, their shows are so awesome. They can say anything they want, they can show anything they want! I wish the world was HBO!"
And for some reason this got me all squawky. I started talking about how that's crazy talk and I don't want HBO programming all over. That I wanted HBO to stay on HBO, and many other things I just didn't believe.
It took me a day of rolling my eyes at myself, and working on another post about "branding" and story-telling (coming soon) to figure out what set me off.
It seemed to me that HBO was somehow being equated with freedom of artistic expression. Instead of a brand that stands for a particular kind of programming. Which led me to wonder: is showing sex and violence and using strong language freedom of expression when you HAVE to show sex and voilence and use strong language?
I would argue: It's not freedom, it's HBO.
Anyway, after they were gracious enough to invite me to join them, conversation turned to the shows everybody's been watching and in particular HBO's very fine Deadwood. Now not everybody had seen it, some had been meaning to watch it, some had only watched season one, some season two, and a couple of us have been enjoying season three, but we all agreed what a fine show it was and what a shame that HBO wasn't going to let them do a fourth season. But that HBO had a lot of fine programming.
This led to one of the guys to say: "Man, their shows are so awesome. They can say anything they want, they can show anything they want! I wish the world was HBO!"
And for some reason this got me all squawky. I started talking about how that's crazy talk and I don't want HBO programming all over. That I wanted HBO to stay on HBO, and many other things I just didn't believe.
It took me a day of rolling my eyes at myself, and working on another post about "branding" and story-telling (coming soon) to figure out what set me off.
It seemed to me that HBO was somehow being equated with freedom of artistic expression. Instead of a brand that stands for a particular kind of programming. Which led me to wonder: is showing sex and violence and using strong language freedom of expression when you HAVE to show sex and voilence and use strong language?
I would argue: It's not freedom, it's HBO.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Trailer for the new Michel Gondry film.
Can't wait! It's got the homemade quality of so much of his work: dream sequences like his Chemical Brothers video, the Giant Hands of his Everlong video, the helpless romance of Eternal Sunshine... plus the sexy french accents. Boni Plus!
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