The World of the Kid

Rawhide, Arizona.

December 26, 2005.  Boxing Day.

So I'm in this general store, right?

And they've got this full-length mirror?

And I've got this digital camera?

So I shoot myself.

Like that.

                       *     *     *

I'm still up.  It's 5:12 AM.  This is good.  I'm getting stuff done.

Since I'm on vacation, I can actually set my own hours.  It seems that when I work through the night, I get more done.  Especially when it comes to writing.

Actually, I haven't done any writing during this vacation (except for these blog entries).  Instead, I've been reading voraciously -- both cinematic theory and story -- and watching Western films, and working with the production team to prepare for our shoot on January 7 and 8.

I've also gone out to eat quite often with close friends.  Sharing a meal is probably the most powerful bonding activity, emotionally, that exists.  It's no accident that the communion ritual involves a meal.

                       *     *     *

My Christmas was memorable.

After two hours of rest, I left Los Angeles at 3 AM on December 25, zipping out of the city by way of the 10 West.  There was little traffic. 

On the way there, and on the way back, I stopped myriad times to shoot exterior shots of the desert coming to life under the rising sun.  I hope to use these shots in my comedy short for Channel 101.  Don't ask me how, since I didn't have a tripod, and the coffee I was drinking didn't make my hands any steadier.

I arrived in Phoenix in time to attend church with my old friend Glendon Yoder's family (Deborah, Ashley, Angie, and Tyler).  The service was fairly short, the community warm and friendly.  I stayed awake during most of it.

After Christmas lunch, which was attended by Glendon's parents Dan and Mary Louise Yoder (she makes a mean seven-layer salad), we got down to business with a three-hour game of Monopoly. 

You'd think that my enthusiasm for the game would have carried me farther, but no.  After failing to secure any real holdings, I went bankrupt.  Quickly.  There's something unjust about that.  I chose the game!

Of course, my disastrous performance could have had something to do with the fact that when I wasn't playing, I was trying to find good angles for photo of the group playing Monopoly.  Oh, well.

After supper (another fantastic spread of food), we plugged in the DVD of It's a Wonderful Life -- I was shocked to discover that after having seen the film at least 15 times, and having edited/directed a staged version of it, the story STILL sucked me in and wouldn't let go...

 The following day, I slept in.  Got up and read cinematic theory.  Ate too many cookies.  Drank more coffee.  Went out for breakfast with Glendon.  Hung out.

That afternoon, Glendon, his father, his son, and I headed up to Rawhide, a Western town rebuilt on a reservation.  There I got closeup shots of the various aspects of the town, which I intend to use as transition shots in the Channel 101 piece we're doing.

That night, the rest of the family joined us at Rawhide Restaurant.  Delicious meal, great conversation.  Is this beginning to sound repetitious?  Trust me, the experience was anything but.

The next morning, I had breakfast with Glendon and left the city at about 7 AM.

The fact that I left that late (as opposed to 3 AM) added an additional hour to the driving -- by the time I reached the outskirts of LA, I was crawling along at an average speed of 5 MPH.  Ugh.  LA traffic.

Not like Arizona.

                       *     *     *

This blog has also been a wonderful way to communicate with those I know.  I've gotten some interesting reactions during the past few weeks:

For example, an email warning me that "an hour after I die, I'll regret everything I've ever done, but it will be too late.  Forever." 

Lovely.

A few on my mailing list followed my instructions and asked to be removed.  That's a relief.  My biggest fear in writing this blog is that I'm pushing unwanted emails on my friends.

A surprising number of friends and relatives, with whom I haven't communicated in years, have responded to this blog with gratitude and renewed friendship.

And that's the purpose of this blog.  It allows me to keep in touch with my friends, no matter where in the world they live.

                       *     *     *

I've tapped back into Western novels.  Angie, Glendon's daughter, loves the Zane Grey series, so I suggested to her that she choose her favorite, and I'll read it.  She left a copy of Twin Sombreros in the kitchen for me.

It was a wonderful read.  Granted, Zane Grey reshapes his words to reflect local accents, which is confusing.  But the stories and characters are simple and clean.

I really liked the novel.  In fact, I want to read more.  But since Barnes and Noble didn't carry any of the full novels, I've shifted to reading Louis L'amour.  It's been years since I've read a Western, and I'm coming back to them with a greater understanding of story, and a profound appreciation for the way Grey and L'amour shaped their stories.

                       *     *     *

So the question I have is this:  when will the Western experience its next great revival?

It's the only film genre that is genuinely American.

Here's an interesting anecdote.  In 1932, when John Ford went to all the studio heads and asked them to fund a Western film with a B-rated actor named John Wayne, they turned down Stagecoach, telling Ford that the Western was dead.

It was Ford who gave the Western new life.  It just took a really solid director who utterly believed in the genre.

Merry Christmas!

It's been a quiet night with Sir Knavely.

He does so love our little chess games.

                        *     *     *

INT. HEATHROW AIRPORT - ARRIVALS GATE - DAY

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the Arrivals Gate at Heathrow Airport. 

General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed - but I don't see that. 

Seems to me that love is everywhere. 

Often it's not particularly dignified, or newsworthy - but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends.

                                                                        - from Love Actually

                        *     *     *

Tonight seems a good time to break out It's A Wonderful Life.  I've seen it so many times during this time of the year. 

How can you not be moved by that story?

                        *     *     *

Tomorrow at 2 AM, I'll be leaving for Phoenix, where I'll be spending two days with Glendon and Deb Yoder and their kids.

Kind of adopting myself out, as my friend Alice puts it.  It's only a six-hour drive, since by driving at night I avoid the stop 'n go traffic patterns.

                        *     *     *

I'm taking care of my two neighbor cats, Jasmine and Chloe.  Their mistress Sarah (my neighbor) is spending time with her parents, and can't be with them.

Hey, what are neighbors for, anyway?  Especially a neighbor who writes about his cat in his blog.  As if it's a real live person.

They're beautiful and smart.  Then again, they are cats.

                        *     *     *

Yesterday, Allesandra, my art designer, storyboarded the script of The Discount Kid with me.  Today I created a shooting script, listing the shots, one by one.  I think this script is going to move fast.

I'm varying wide angle shots with extreme closeups.

My art designer has a brilliant sense of comedic timing.  She definitely contributed to the finished product.

Nice to work with talented people.

                        *     *     *

Time to get some sleep.  But before I do, I'd like to finish this Merry Christmas greeting as I began it, through the words of writer/director Richard Curtis (and voiced by Hugh Grant):

Before the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate and revenge - they were all messages of love.

If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspicion you'll find that love actually is all around...

The Secret Recipe to Mom's Famous Chicken Soup

There they are.  The entire family.  That's an historical moment.

I took this picture while my brother Richard and his family were here on their adoption mission.  I shot it within a local cafe using a digital camera -- I think it makes a stunning family picture. 

So, to Caleb, Richard, Patrick, Katrina, and Tina -- Merry Christmas!

                       *     *     *

Thoughout my years of growing up at home, my father had a hobby.  During his free time, he puttered in his bedroom, playing with his reel-to-reel tape recorder.  Once 8-track was invented, my father quickly obtained the necessary equipment.  We soon were entertained by recordings of the latest church hymnsing as it looped through the machine again and again.

Did I mention that I grew up without radio?  It wasn't permitted.

We could hear that hymnsing no matter where we were.  For my father personally wired the house, putting speakers everywhere, including in his body shop, located in our garage.  As we unwillingly taped up our neighbor's sedan for a paint job, we could listen to the latest elementary school programs through the speakers.  Did I mention each tape looped?

Yes.  Be happy for small blessings.  For example, thank goodness we didn't have radio or television.  If so, we would have had to listen to the latest, cheezy disco hits, been forced to understand the link between the Dukes and a pair of Daisy Dukes.  I'd even have been exposed to the inherent sappiness that is Country music.

Actually, that analysis is still pretty accurate. 

Back then, I disagreed philosophically with my parents -- I thought they were way too out of touch with culture.  They believed that practicing faith meant being separate from the world.  That belief shaped every other belief and social practice they chose.  They still maintain these beliefs today.  For which I respect them.

But I still kind of disagree with them.

                       *     *     *

I'm in the midst of pre-production for the pilot episode of my comedy short:  The Discount Kid.  This means I'm staying in Los Angeles over break.

I have an unusually long holiday vacation this year -- it started on Friday, December 16, and I'm due back in the classroom on Tuesday, January 3. 

I need this break.

I started it, of course, in the classic way:  by catching that infamous Cold-in-Your-Chest, which has nailed more than one person out here.  So I spent my weekend on the couch, sucking down tangerines while absorbing Western films. 

By Sunday, I had recaptured my energy.  I've more or less quit coughing since then.  And tonight, I made my mother's Famous Chicken Soup.  No one makes it better than she.

I'm allowed to be biased, right?  The secret, by the way, is in the broth.

                       *     *     *

I'm slowly building my team of collaborators.  My goal is to use the series of Channel 101 films I intend to submit this spring (one per month) as a team-building exercise before my producers and I budget any real money.  We're using primarily creativity to create each piece.

That goal recognized, the reality is that no one actually does a zero-budget film.  One must use a DV camera, and tape, and have access to editing equipment.

I've come to peace with the money I will spend by accepting the fact that this is a practical film education for me.

For example, I just spent the most worthwhile $120.00 of my life by paying a superb teacher, Ken Stone, to teach me how to edit dv film professionally in Final Cut Pro 5.  He's a superb teacher.  He even runs a web site committed to answering questions from Final Cut Pro users.

Over Monday and Wednesday, I spent 12 hours in his studio listening, practicing, asking questions, being tested -- the most intense class I've ever taken. 

But I actually finished a short film (1 minute and 48 seconds long), complete with a simple story line.  I used split edits, created a sound track, practiced sound editing principles, and even used a dissolve.  Being able to manipulate what was on the screen to create an emotional experience was absolutely exhilarating.

In between introductory lesson I took on Monday, and the mostly practicum lesson I had on Wednesday, I raced through a superb book on Final Cut Pro:  Editing Techniques with Final Cut Pro by Michael Wohl (2004).  Surprise.  It is actually well written, easy to read, with excellent analogies that help you understand.  And best of all, it teaches sound principles of editing.

If I ever had any doubts about whether I should continue to pursue my goals as a filmmaker, this experience eliminated them.  Stone is a mentor who doesn't throw out compliments lightly, so his praise at the end of the short "course" was a powerful incentive to persevere.

I've said this to my friends, and I believe it.  One of the reasons I was able to capture basic skills so quickly in Final Cut Pro 5 is because of my the years of experience I had with Adobe Pagemaker as a yearbook advisor.  Different programs, similar intuitive demands.

Incidentally, this does not mean that I've mastered Final Cut Pro -- far from it.  I've just gotten started.  But I know how to talk about editing, I can complete minimum editing tasks on Final Cut Pro, and I better understand how to deliver good takes to my editor.

Most important, working in it is SO much fun.

                       *     *     *

Research for The Discount Kid means watching a lot of Western films.

The most thought-provoking have been the films of Sergio Leone.  Everything is so stylized -- very different than American Westerns.

I think it's the perspective behind the films.  American Westerns are hopeful -- the films of John Ford felt good about the fact that we conquered the West, essentially taking the land from Native Americans.  John Wayne makes no apology for what we did.

By the time you get to the Spaghetti Western, things have changed.  A post-war weariness pervades Leone's films -- pessimism defines his characters.  Instead of white versus black hats, we have the forerunner of the Tarantino protagonist:  violent, cool, and amoral.

And his films are brilliant.

                       *     *     *

So how to create a directing style that works for our comedy Western?  After all, we have an incompetent hero who calls himself "The Cheapest Shot in the West."  Somehow he wins, but never in the way that he expects.  His primary antagonist is Savage Sam, a close relative of Yosemite Sam.

When the art design team met this past Tuesday, we looked at the comedy found in James Lubin's script, and decided that our production design would use cartoon touches, even though our characters are live.

If you look at the film Leone loved most, Once Upon a Time in the West, you realize that he is creating a fairy tale -- based on an American myth called the West. 

For example, I didn't realize until recently that the whole concept of the fast draw was invented by Hollywood in the early twentieth century.  Was it Clint Eastwood's comment on a track of The  Outlaw Josey Wales who said that  a man in the old West would never have carried his gun in a tied-down holster -- he would have stuck it in his pocket.

But who cares.  No one in that era of Western movies actually cared about reality:  the emblems of the American myth were far more interesting.

So rather than trying to make our Western feel real, we are deliberately creating something as fake as a cartoon:  costumes in primary colors, establishing cranes shots over a scale model of the Arizona town of Rawhide, exterior shots taken at the tourist recreation of Rawhide, a very fake cow in our Very Small Corral, and toy guns that look fake and sound very real.  I suppose it's a form of deconstruction.

But all this sounds like a research paper, and this five-minute pilot will be anything but.  It's going to be funny, and it's going to tell a great story of a bumbling hero who faces overwhelming odds.

But you can see this when you view the film on Channel 101 during the last week in January.  At least I dearly hope so.

Wish us all luck!  And if you can, and if you live in the area,plan on attending the screening at Cinespace on Hollywood and Vine, the evening of the last Sunday of the month.

                       *     *     *

One more note:  I'm really pleased with the production team that is coming together.  They're talented and committed and loyal.  They're hard-working.  I'm so completely honored to be working with them.

I'm still looking for several critical players, but some quality people have expressed interest.

Putting this team together has given me flashes of deja vu.  Probably because it's all about defining roles and helping my team see how the entire puzzle fits together. 

My background and training has been in the theatre, and the roles on a movie-making team are different from those found in the theatre...yet not so different. 

For example, the responsibilities of my AD (assistant director) are very much like those carried out by the stage managers I've worked with in the past -- it's all about people.  And planning helps.  But instead of blocking out each scene with your actors on stage, you storyboard every camera shot on paper.

Thinking through these connections has also made the process of directing less intimidating (Ah, I've done this before!), and gives me confidence.  Just as I began directing in the theatre by mastering technical direction (The Music Man, Steubenville), so I'm beginning my work in film in the editing bay.  

Once you get the connections, it all feels very familiar.

                       *     *     *

Tomorrow morning (Thursday), I'm heading out on a scouting trip with my art director.  We're looking for key exterior locations, checking out several model/toy shops.

I'm psyched about the chance to possibly work with model trains again.  I deliberately set this in the post-Civil War era because it's got those very cool smokestacks on trains.  We'll see.

The following evening, we'll be spending a significant block of time storyboarding the script.  This job is very much like blocking out a show on stage, except that it's just you and the artist creating the storyboard, rather than the entire cast.

I'm determined to have every shot planned out ahead of time so that my shoot will fly by like lightning, so that the actors won't lose their forward momentum.  The last thing they need is me not knowing what I want to do next.

Everything I've read indicates that the most successful directors are those who have a clear plan to follow.  Actors hate waiting around.  It drains them of their energy.  I'm going to do my dangdest to avoid that.

                       *     *     *

On Christmas Day, I'll be doing another run to Phoenix, Arizona to spend time with an old friend, Glendon Yoder, and his family.  I'll leave at 2 AM, missing the slow-moving traffic patterns that haunt the freeways during the day.  I should arrive just in time for church services on Christmas morning, followed by dinner.

Spending time again with Glendon and his brothers has been very fulfilling.

When I was 20, I moved to Phoenix to teach school.  I spent a lot of late nights playing Rook with Glendon and his two brothers.  This past Thanksgiving, the four of us played again (I actually won).  This time, however, the conversation was very post-teenage. 

We discussed real estate, business, etc.  Around us flowed conversations and movements of their daughters and sons -- a lot of family members packed into Glendon's and (wife) Deb's brand-new house.

Glendon's parents are supposed to be there for Christmas, as well.  I haven't seen them in over 20 years.

The day after, we'll do a quick trip to Rawhide to shoot exterior shots for The Discount Kid.  You can have more than one reason for a vacation jaunt, right?

                       *     *     *

It sounds like I'm not doing much other than preparing for the shoot.

Well, you might be right.

It also seems like there are going to be a lot of people involved in a project that will only run less than five minutes.

That's true too.  But why do something that is this much fun all by yourself.  For me, joy comes through collaboration.

I loved the comments of Walter Murch, who edited The English Patient, among other films.  In an interview with Michael Wohl, he talks about his childhood fascination with recording bits of reality, and making those bits tell a story.

Before this week, I never made the connection between his love for sound, which he recorded on reel to reel tape recorders (he still loves to putter with the sermons he recorded by George R. Brunk in the 50s), and my love for moving pictures, which I record on a dv camera.

Ironically, my father could have written this: 

At a very early age, I fell in love with the tape recorder. 

What I loved about it (and this is true about film editing now) is that you could instantly capture a fragment of reality, and then you could manipulate that fragment and juxtapose it with other fragments in unpredictable ways.

That was intoxicating to me in the early 1950s, and it still is in the early twenty-first century.

I also love the collaboration, working with other people... (523).

                                                                -- Walter Murch

The Amish Strand

I am me,

And you are you,

As you can see;

But when you do

The things that you can do,

You will find the Way,

And the Way will follow you. 

     ~ Benjamin's Hoff's "The Tao of Pooh"                      

                        *     *     *

Yes.  That's a photo of my parents -- Earl and Magdalena Denlinger -- taken by Dick Gotschall at my parents' 50th wedding anniversary in Hartville, Ohio.

                        *     *     *

The following came as a surprise to me.

The most powerful strand woven into the culture of my birth is...Amish.

                        *     *     *

Incidentally, just for the record, I am Mennonite.  I will always be Mennonite.

You can't really write or direct until you know where your home is.  Not until you can lead people to the unique window you've created, given them a stepladder, and let them climb up to see the view.

Perhaps that's why I started this blog.

Certainly, my most honest work has garnered the most powerful reactions.  Is it possible that my readers can help point me toward the stories I need to tell?

                        *     *     *

My own world view was created in the clash of cultures through which I've moved over the last twenty years:  Amish, Mennonite, Friends, Catholic, Methodist, Presbyterian, Jewish.  Even Atheist. 

I am Mennonite in the same way that a Catholic will always be a Catholic.  The Jesuits used to say, "Give us your child until he's seven, and we'll own him forever."  It's so true.

                        *     *     *

I'm also a Christian.  But that has nothing to do with being Mennonite or Amish or Catholic.  

As an artist, and a person of faith, I am deeply aware of the fact that the constant flow of questions streaming through my mind is a gift -- and a curse. 

I wish it were just a gift.

It's not like I can help myself.  I'm going to ask questions.  Feel free to join the conversation, or get the heck out of my way.

Is that a rude remark?  I intended it to be welcoming.  Just for the record, I'd prefer that you join the conversation.  Really. 

                        *     *     *

During my childhood and youth, I saw my home community attempt to differentiate itself from Amish culture.  How unfortunate.  The Amish culture is the gentlest weave within the quilt of my faith today.

Several religious influences fused into a denomination in the 1950s.  It labeled itself conservative Mennonite.  I've already spoken about its harshness.

In 1988, I completed my history thesis on an all-school revival that took place at Hartville Christian School in 1973.  To understand its force, I examined the birth of my home church, the Hartville Conservative Mennonite Church. 

To my shock, I discovered that the gentlest cultural influence of my childhood -- and the one from which my community had fled -- was Amish.

                        *     *     *

I don't know why my perspective is so different.  One could argue that every one of my siblings are individualists by nature.  I suspect that's because we come from a father who refused to do what everyone else did.

At least that's his nature.  I used to regard this quality as a negative. 

Today, it's the reason I am so proud of my father.  He modeled individualism.  He questioned the world around him.  He invented labor-saving gadgets.  And he drove everyone crazy, including me.

What caused my father to be this way?  Why couldn't he simply be like everyone else?  He didn't seem to give two cents for what other people thought.

Can you imagine what it was like to have a father like that?  When I was in my early teens and just wanted to fit in.  Forget that.

                        *     *     *

My father left his home community, Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to marry a conservative  Mennonite girl.  A beautiful young woman he had met  while he was completing his 1-W service as a conscientious objector.  During the Korean War.

They met while doing missionary work to multi-ethnic children.  The mission was located squarely in the Bronx.

They worked together as a married couple until my third sister arrived.  Shortly before I was born, they decided that the Bronx was no place to raise a family.  So they moved to Hartville, Ohio.  It was five years after they were married.

                        *     *     *

Several years ago, I got an email from some random mother.  She was looking for her missing child.

Apparently, she took a boy child home with her on September 8, 1963.  But it turned out that this boy child was NOT her progeny.  Her real child was switched in the hospital.

Wait!  September 8, 1963.  That's MY birthday.

A hospital in New York City.  In the Bronx.  My parents were living in that area right around that time.

I thought my birth certificate was registered at Aultman Hospital.  Canton, Ohio.

The random stranger who wrote to me asked me if I was her child. 

If she was my mother. 

Now that would explain a lot of things, I thought.  So I checked with my mother.  Where exactly was I born?

                        *     *     *

In Hartville, Ohio, my parents tried to fit into my mother's conservative Mennonite community.  It didn't work. 

For one thing, my father didn't own a farm.  He didn't know how to do construction work.  He only had a high school diploma.  And he was mighty proud of it.

So my father got a job in a lumber yard.  Too many times a month, he had to miss work, due to debilitating migraines.

                        *     *     *

So there's no real proof that I'm a child of my parents?  Oh, there is.

Okay.  Now that you mention it, I do look a LOT like my family.

                        *     *     *

The move to Ohio must have been a jolt to my father's system.  He knew NO one in Hartville.  And he carried a funny last name that people still can't pronounce.

I often tell people this:  My ancestors must have lingered in dens.  Den-linger. 

It's the only way I can get them to pronounce it correctly.

                        *     *     *

In the 42 years I've known my father, I've never heard him question his decision to live within my mother's home community.  He has steadfastly supported its conservative lifestyle.

When I was ten, I believed that my father had thought it up. 

Okay, not really.  But almost.

                        *     *     *

In July 2003, as I researched material for Mennonite Prince, I happened upon Donald B. Kraybill's The Riddle of Amish Culture (2001).

It opened my eyes.  It's one of the most respectful, profound examinations of that culture.  On the cover is a picture of two Amish girls moving down the road -- on roller skates.

On pages 34-5, Kraybill talks about a German concept called Gelassenheit.

The constraints of Amish culture would certainly suffocate the "free spirits" of the modern world.  But Amish children, taught to respect the primacy of the community, usually feel less stifled by the constraints than Moderns who cherish individuality.

The grammar of Gelassenheit regulates interaction with others.  How one smiles, laughs, shakes hands, removes one's hat, and drives one's horse signals Gelassenheit or its absence.

A boisterous laugh and a quick retort betray a cocky spirit.  Rather, a gentle chuckle, a hesitation, and a refined smile embody a yielded and submissive spirit.  A slow and thoughtful answer, a deference to the other's idea, and a reluctance to interrupt a conversation are signs of Gelassenheit. 

It was Kraybill who first helped me see what a stark change had taken place within the Amish of Hartville, Ohio, who converted to a faith that was evangelical and fundamentalist.

It is precisely at this point that Amish faith bewilders those with evangelical religious persuasions.  Amish faith is holistic.  The Amish resist separating means and ends -- salvation and eternal life.  They are reluctant to say that they are sure of salvation.  They focus on living faithfully while waiting on providence -- trusting that things will turn out well.  Announcing that one is certain of eternal salvation reveals a haughty attitude that mocks the spirit of Gelassenheit....

The code words of the evangelical mind-set --personal salvation, personal evangelism, and personal devotions -- accent the individual rather than the community as the center of redemptive activity.  In refusing this vocabulary, the Amish bring a much more holistic, integrated view that does not separate the individual fromcommunity or faith from action. 

Evangelical and Amish vocabularies are analogous to two foreign languages describing the same sentiments of love.  One is a communal language of patience, humility, community, and practice; the other is a individualistic language of beliefs, certainty, feeling, and experience. 

Whereas evangelical Christians want to know, control, plan, and act to guarantee their salvation, the Amish outlook is a more modest and perhaps a more honest one.

                        *     *     *

"We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time."

              ~ "Little Gidding" by T.S. Eliot

To become a filmmaker

Becoming a filmmaker is a challenge.

As you can see in his latest photo, Sir K is well on his way.  When the raw footage is shot...

But I digress.

                          *     *     *

Congrats to JD Ryznar and the crew of Yacht Rock, who took home the Channy for Best Show at Channel 101.

That would include Hollywood Steve, my writing partner and the host.  He bookended each episode of the series with flair.

If you haven't checked out the show, and if you're over the age of 13, take a look at it.

                          *     *     *

Sir Knavely the Westside Cat is on its way to becoming an illustrated series of books

A children's book.  Well, kind of.  The themes are probably too dark for the smallest children.  But I'm sure they'll appreciate the sketches that my illustrator, Terra Harker Pearson, is creating for him.

Terra fell in love with the character I've been creating on this blog -- just for the record, the journey you're getting on this blog is mostly imaginary -- and suggested that I create a book about him.  I suggest that she become an illustrator for the series of books I'm planning on Sir Knavely.  She agreed.

I adore Terra.  She played Lucy when I workshopped our play adaptation of A Tale of Two Cities at the Canton Players Guild in July 2003, and I was very pleased with her work.  The audiences loved her as well.

I'm honored to work with Terra again.  It's going to be fun.

                          *     *     *

I'm watching How the West Was Won:  the latest in a series of Westerns I've chosen.  Before directing the Two-Gun Kid pilot, I'm trying to get a visual understanding of the Western genre.

I've seen a range of Westerns this month:  John Ford's The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance with Jimmy Stewart and John Wayne, Lawrence Kasdan's Silverado with Kevin Costner, Scott Glenn, and Kevin Kline.

Also John Ford's The Searchers with John Wayne; and George Stevens' Shane with Alan Lad and Van Heflin; and several episodes from The Lone Ranger, the 50s televison vehicle for Clayton Moore from the 50s. 

I couldn't finish David O. Selznick's Duel in the Sun with Jennifer Jones, Gregory Peck, and Lilian Gish -- too over the top.  It looked like a Western version of Gone with the Wind.

The strangest thing is this:  Lilian Gish got her only Oscar nom from this film, and Jones picked up her third.  Why?  Oscar is inscrutable, at times.

                          *     *     *

The other evening, I had a long conversation with Sandy Said, my art designer, about the kind of sets and locations we want to use for Kid.  Since this is a zero-budget piece, we have to be creative.

I don't want to cover for the lack of a set by doing lots of closeups.  Somehow, I think we can do better than that.  My art director is  young and energized.  She'll figure out what can be done.  Ever since Sam Mendes did American Beauty, I've trusted filmmakers who come out of the theatre.

She believes the set and costume design need to come out of the story idea.  So I'm inviting her to my next story conference with my writer, editor, story consultant, and dp.

One of the big questions we must answer is this:  why a Western?  What is there about this story that demands it?  I know it does, but I want us to articulate it.

                          *     *     *

Last night I finished reading Robert Rodriguez's Rebel Without a Crew:  Or How a 23-Year-Old Filmmaker with $7,000 Became a Hollywood Player.  What an inspiring book.

What I liked most about him is his creativity as a director.  His story about using the turtle to bookend El Mariachi was a perfect example of the way to use creativity rather than a big budget to create a film.

                          *     *     *

I saw Rent Friday night.  Major disappointment.  I loved the show, so perhaps my expectations were too high, but there were several problems that helmer Chris Columbus simply couldn't overcome.

The problem I had with the movie Rent -- and this showed in the first two episodes of Harry Potter series that he directed -- is that whenever Columbus needed to imagine the story differently, he retreated to the theatre.

Thus the opening scene takes place on the stage.  Beautiful, if you're doing a video of the show.  But there was no visual connection made between that scene and the rest of the story. 

Second example:  the tenant rebellion, with a fire started in the apartment, and the people lighting up paper on the fire escapes.  What?

The film couldn't decide whether it was a film -- or a video of the stage production.  For example, at the end Mimi dies and comes back to life.  Who?  What?  Why?  And was there ANYONE in the theatre who didn't predict that the pinky would wiggle back to life -- at least by the time the camera had moved laboriously, slowly, deliriously up her hanging arm to the open palm.

Too bad.  I really wanted to like this film.  By the way, Sarah Silverman puts in an appearance as the executive who hires Mark as a documentary filmmaker.  Interesting.

I know this movie was a labor of love for Columbus, and I respect that.  But he should have hired a director who could reimagine the story for a film audience.

                          *     *     *

I've been watching all of the films of Hitchcock.  Netflix gives me excellent access to films I'd never have been able to locate even five years ago.

It's a nice option for a young filmmaker today.  It should prepare my generation of filmmakers to do even more informed work.

I like Hitchcock's style -- very precisely designed -- with beautiful cohesion.  Very stylized.

I believe the raw material of a film should be generated from a process that includes risktaking, mistakes, and random brainstorming.  But the final product should be the result of sheer hard work, and ruthless choices.

Oddly enough, as I've been learning and processing the material I read and discover, I keep referencing my workas a yearbook advisor:  so much of the work feels similar.

This feels especially true when it comes to using computer software.  When I began my tenure at Hoover High School, I immediately pushed the program into using Pagemaker, a difficult software program with a steep learning curve.

I'm just beginning to learn how to use digital editing equipment.  In so many ways, filmmakers have a much easier task than did Rodriguez when he shot El Mariachi. 

And of course because of that, expectations are higher.  So any way you look at it, filmmaking is a hell of a lot of work.  Exactly what I like.

I suppose it's no surprise that I'm planning to direct this Western piece by using a stylized set.  I don't think it's an accident that my 1998 Romeo and Juliet production was the most stylized piece I've done.  It works for me.

Of course, it's awfully hard to pull off style, but if it works, it can be breathtaking.  I'm willing to take the chance that I'm going to fall flat on my face with this piece -- a good reason not to spend money

Rodriguez believes EVERYONE has several bad films in him, so you're best off shooting those before you go to film school, before you spend money.  I like that.

                          *     *     *

As I watched The Lone Ranger, I realized again why Westerns went out of style.  The show is about a team of crimefighters who solve crimes.  But the plots are predictable, and the production values are in the toilet. 

The radio show was far more successful.  Television simply couldn't match it -- a few simple sound effects, and you created a brilliant world in people's minds that film is now only beginning to create.

Today's crime fighting shows are much more interesting and relevant.  People can compare the complexity of CSI to their own lives much more easily -- the Republicans like to shout about how people in middle America have simple values, but that simply doesn't match the reality of people's lives.  Everyone has a dark side:  how many politicians who stand for family values turn out to have a dark side that shocks and horrifies the naive.

It's for that reason, I suspect, that a straight-up Western simply wouldn't be interesting anymore.  Taking out the bad guys with clean cheer, a horse, and a six gun simply isn't believeable anymore.

Thus, we're creating a Western show that isn't really about the old West at all.

Another example of a prop in The Lone Ranger that doesn't fit:  the black mask.  A black mask should symbolize secrets.  So why does Clayton Moore's lawman wear it?  He doesn't have another life to protect -- as he says to Old Joe's sister, his mask is simply fashion accessory.  Unless what he has to hide has nothing to do with crime.

For a prop like the mask to work, it needs to be relevant.  And it isn't.  The only Batman films that have worked clearly play on the truly dark, secret life that the hero actively hides.

                          *     *     *

I wonder which direction film will go next?  The current generation seems influenced most by Quentin's obsession with game violence -- especially action grounded in the martial arts.

I know this much.  I found Sin City -- a child of Tarantino's ideals -- to be incredibly disturbing.  But its power could not be denied.  I'll never forget the impact of the film, because I was in the midst of writing this summer when I saw it, and it shut me down for two days while I wrestled with its ideas.

                          *     *     *

Several other books on my immediate reading list -- mostly film theory and practicum:  Rudolf Arnheim's Film as Art; Christina Metz's Film Language; Camille Landau and Tiare White's What They Don't Teach You At Film School; Sergei Eisenstein's Film Form; Renee Harmon's The Beginning Filmmaker's Guide to Directing; Karel Reisz and Gavin Millar's The Technique of Film Editing; and Bruce Block's The Visual Story.

For sheer pleasure, I'm also reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Love in the Time of Cholera, Frank McCourt's Teacher Man, and Stephen Chbosky's the perks of being a wallflower.

I finally finished Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kevalier & Clay, but I had to first read Wonder Boys (I love the film) in order to get up the courage.