Category: Production Blogs

WORST-CASE SCENARIO
You know your friend called you eight times last week. The red light’s flashing on the machine. You know it’s him. It’s clearly your turn to show some love, yet another week goes by. The obligation to call begins to haunt you. Had you called that first week, there’s no way you’d be this plagued by guilt. But by now it’s clear… the guilt has won. You stop checking your machine. You stop answering your phone, entirely. Two weeks later, there you are: in a corner of the apartment, eating the last of the Cheez-Its and conversing with the blue gnome you’ve discovered living in your sock drawer.

MAYBE NOT THE GNOME
Okay, may it hasn’t gotten that bad. But still, I’ve been playing the role of “bad friend” to all of you for the past two months. And you deserve an explanation.

NO, I’M NOT SEEING ANOTHER BLOG.
It’s just that ours is so damn complicated for me. You could say I’m not the blogging type (no pun intended). You see, it takes me THREE HOURS to write one blog. This may overwhelm many of you, considering the tripe you’ve been subjected to in the eight months I’ve been writing for this website. But it’s true. Three hours for maybe five paragraphs. What’s even more baffling is that I still have no idea who’s reading this besides my father. I feel like the words are getting sucked into a void. And yet, I’m a man of my word. I have no intention of giving up on Quick Stop Entertainment staff nor the three, possibly four fans (dad included) who’ve given their valuable time to reading this blog.

A SOLUTION
As a result, I’ve decided to rearrange the format of this blog. Starting in February, I will begin podcasting my tripe. You heard it correctly, I’m letting go of the writing reigns to focus on an AUDIO PODCAST for QSE. My aim is to get more entries out to all of you wonderful people on a more consistent basis. I’ll also be able to get the rest of the Take Me Home cast and crew involved. Rather than listening to my drivel alone, you’ll be able to hear from the likes of Mike Hobert (Lonnie on Scrubs and the producer of Take Me Home) and Jeff Seibenick (director of Advantage Hart, our film’s editor, and the most aggravating man you’ll ever love). I think you’re going to dig the results. It’s better for you, it’s better for me. Gnomes be damned!!

TALK AT YOU SOON!

-Sam Jaeger

AND NOW, a final look back at the moments, sights, sounds, and events that touched us in places we don’t like to talk about.

BEST MOVIE: That one with Toby Keith. Where he plays a country singer? And sings country music? That one. Definitely.

BEST ALBUM: That one by Toby Keith. Where he plays a country singer? And sings “country” music? That one. Definitely.

BEST TV COMMERCIAL: The self-referential ad. Beginning with Head-On and the NFL Ads about coming up with MORE NFL ads, this was the year advertising executives decided to one-up themselves by spending 30 seconds of our valuable time talking about their LAST commercial. Really makes you want to run out and buy some commercial space, doesn’t it?

BEST OF THE INTERNET: lonelygirl 15. Thanks to the kinetic advancement of technology, we can watch a scripted blog about a teenage girl sitting in her room talking about her boyfriend and stuffed animals. The Citizen Kane of minutiae. I sifted through these blogs today, looking for the episode where she stabs her mother in the heart with a spork. No such luck. Just a girl pretending to be a girl with not a whole lot to say. Way to champion this one, nerds.

BEST FRUIT DRINK: Powerade. Because it has no fruit in it. And because of the blue bottle with the oblong nipple that makes you look around to see if anyone’s watching.

BEST DRINK AT WORK: Cider with rum. Lots of it.

BEST SCIENTIFIC QUANDARY: How does SO much honey drip down the side of the squeezable bear? I close that thing real good.

BEST REASON TO CARE ABOUT CELEBRITIES: Because they’re just like us. Only richer. And more selfish. Oh, and they get free stuff all the time. For being like us. Only richer.

BEST MUSIC IF YOU LIKE CRAP: Paris Hilton’s “Paris”.

BEST VIDEO GAME: I’d say Gears of War, but it doesn’t involve college football.

BEST PUSSY: See photo

BEST RACIST: Michael Richards. Take that, Mel.

BEST ATTEMPT TO SEEM LESS RACIST: “See, when I said ’50 years ago you would have been hung upside down with a fork up your ass’, I meant to say ’80 years’ instead of fifty, and ‘crucifix’ instead of fork.”

BEST REASON FOR A FACELIFT: “For myself”

BEST CURRENT U.S. PRESIDENT: Gerald Ford?

BEST DECISION BY THE PRESIDENT: Admitting he was wrong for appointing Taylor Hicks “Chancellor of Gettin’ Down”

BEST REASON TO STAY HOME: Terrorism! Oh, I meant television. About terrorism.

BEST WAY TO REFUEL FREEMASON CONSPIRACIES: Hire Tom Cruise as spokesman.

BEST REASON TO LIVE ON YOUR FRIENDS COUCH: No bills in their mail for you, and every once in a while you get to pretend you’re asleep while his girlfriend walks around in a robe. Unemployment never felt so full-time.

BEST PICK-UP LINE: “I’d like to date you, go on a nationally syndicated show to talk about you, jump on a couch when describing you, marry you, impregnate you, and have a mutant baby with you in an effort to shroud my desire to have sex with guys. Cool?”

BEST FORGIVEN DRUG ADDICT: Robert Downey Jr. The perennial fave.

BEST HOAX ON THE AMERICAN PEOPLE: The phone that plays all your music. Back to the drawing board, fellas.

BEST CONVERSATION: When your friend is telling you a story while on her Blackberry. “And then, you are not going to believe this, Greg…(typing)…um, he said to me…(typing)… he was like…(typing)…so totally…(typing)…oh, I have to take this. Hold on. (into Blackberry) Hello? Oh my gosh, you are not going to believe what Greg said to me…”

BEST SPORTS STAR/ROLE MODEL: Heisman Trophy winner Troy Smith

BEST REASON TO LOSE FAITH IN HUMANITY: Terrell Owens

BEST REASON TO HAVE FAITH RESTORED: Walmart announces plans to incarcerate its Chinese textile workers for taking home too much lint on clothing.

BEST LOOKING SIX-FOOT DOG: Toby Keith in that one movie.

UGLIEST BABY: Terrell Owens

BEST REASON TO BELIEVE 2007 IS GOING TO BE BETTER: Sequel to Stallone’s classic Rhinestone finally in the works!

-Sam Jaeger

(NOTE TO MY READERS: I apologize for the “hiatus”. No, I was not sipping wassail high in the Alps somewhere, but working fruitlessly on auditions and a rough edit of the short. It shall not happen again.)

SECOND OPINIONS
Parked at a cafe smack-dab in the middle of Hollywood, I peeled open an LAWeekly to the film section. If you’re unfamiliar with the newspaper, LAWeekly is the largest free newspaper in Los Angeles, much like The Village Voice in NYC. I was curious what critics thought of Darren Aronofsky’s latest mind-bender, The Fountain. After two paragraphs, it dawned on me: I was reading not a review, but an indictment:

“In truth, The Fountain is closer to one of those vomitous fantasy romances, like Somewhere in Time or this past summer’s The Lake House, where the two lovers are so destined to be together that neither time nor space nor plain old common sense can keep them apart. The only viewers who risk having their minds blown are those who didn’t have much of one to start with.”
–Scott Foundas, LAWeekly
Wednesday, November 22, 2006

OOH, NO HE DIDN’T! Listen, you KNOW it’s a good review when the writer takes the time to insult not only the film, but the film’s audience. Go git ’em, Scott!! Being part of that audience, I can’t help but wonder what was behind Mr. Foundas’s onslaught. Like the Michael Richards meltdown a few weeks prior, you have to imagine there’s some bad blood there. Maybe not between Foundas and Aronofsky, the director, but between Foundas and Aronofsky’s exalted concepts of love.

BAD LOVE
I’ll be the first to admit that the “I did it for all for love” storyline isn’t my favorite; it’s usually the most heavy-handed and often over-reaching. I still believe that no better love story exists than in The Empire Strikes Back. There’s charm, there’s chemistry, then Han gets frozen in carbonite. THAT’S a love story. But if you think The Fountain is just a love story going in, you’d be wrong.

The problem with professional criticism is that there is no constant. For example, the cumulative critic site Metacritic averaged out reviews for The Fountain at about the same level as those received for Saw III and Open Season and way below The Ant Bully. So, according to the reviews, we should run out and see a hugely disappointing star-fest like Bobby rather than the most ambitious film of the year.

Trying to review The Fountain like all other films is a waste. Two minutes into the movie, you understand that this is not your typical “vomitous” love story. It’s more like the director’s cut of your most lucid dream: it may not make perfect sense, but coming back to the real world is a bit of a letdown.

So why was Scott Foundas so miffed about this time-spanning, love-knows-no-bounds escapade? In the same article, he gave a warmer reception to another romance, Flannel Pajamas, about the long and slow demise of a relationship. Which is more true to life? Can I say, “C. All of the above”?

It’s one thing to cut down a movie for missing its mark, but for sharing a dissenting view? Of LOVE?! I have an image in my head of Mr. Foundas in an argument with his spouse:

MRS. FOUNDAS: Hey, Hon. I’m glad you’re home.

SCOTT FOUNDAS: WHY? So you can suffocate me with your lofty expectations? YOU SICKEN ME! Oh sure, you’re glad now. What about in a year, when I’ve gained a little weight? When the paper fires me? When it all goes to pot, you’re saying you’ll be right there by my side?! OH, SPARE ME!!

MRS. FOUNDAS: Did you pick up the dry cleaning?

SCOTT FOUNDAS: I AM NOT A MACHINE, TINA!!!

TIS THE SEASON
Yes, love hurts. Yes, relationships are work. But the people I know who look at love with optimism are, surprise, surprise, happier in their relationships. So here’s a perfect idea for the yuletide. Let us all be young, ignorant lovers. Let us, this holiday season, act like we did before the weight of the world crushed our shoulders. Leave Mr. Foundas’s musings of emptiness for January. They have no place here. Pass the wassail! Let’s hear it for the hopeless romantic!

-Sam Jaeger

I was washing dishes this morning when I heard the news on the radio. In some unspecified Los Angeles hospital, at some unspecified time of night, director Robert Altman died. He was 81 years old. In his parting, he leaves with us a body of work that pushed the limits of filmmaking.

TWO JOURNEYS
Robert Altman was, and will forever be, an exception to many rules. Practically every film released by a major studio since the success of Star Wars has followed The Hero’s Journey first defined by Joseph Campbell; a young man/woman must accept a task and ultimately overcome personal and situational obstacles to succeed in the end. But Robert Altman never seemed to play by these rules of cinema. His work wasn’t about the ordinary person against extraordinary odds, but the ordinary person against common odds. His films are as close as cinema has come to an honest depiction of life.

Beginning with Countdown in 1968, it was clear Altman had a different focus. The film, starring Robert Duvall and James Caan, was a documentary-style drama that revolved around the first mission to the moon and the toll it took on both the astronauts and their families. The film, though not considered among his best, indicated two very important characteristics of the films to come. Firstly, the film was topical; America was to land their first man on the moon later that year. But it was the documentary style, the attempt to catch characters in the middle of struggles rather than from beginning to end, that Altman quickly perfected. Two years later he would shadow the Vietnam war with the anti-war classic M*A*S*H.

THE (anti)ANTI-WAR FILM
The film, set during the Korean War, is as black a comedy as you’re likely to come across. No “Hero’s Journey” here. No scenes of precious indignation, no long-winded speeches about the atrocities of battle. The people of this film are too busy creating havoc with episodic parties and pranks. Isn’t this a more honest depiction of how we as human’s cope with life during wartime? Most other films about war, no matter how light their mood at the onset, eventually culminate with some remarkably “honest” realization for the hero (see also Good Morning Vietnam). That, for the first time, the hero (and thusly, we the audience) get the point: that war is hell. We see bodies on stretchers. The carnage left after artillery fire. What’s the brutally honest climax of M*A*S*H? A fixed game of football featuring heavily doped athletes. Offensive? Possibly? But… accurate?

One of the other constraints of The Hero’s Journey is that the hero/heroine is called to duty and mentored throughout his quest by an old wise man (see also Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and of course Mr. Miyagi). What’s Altman’s answer to that? Quite possibly Jack Lemmon’s character from Short Cuts, an estranged father who tries to gain his son’s sympathy by explaining his infidelity. He’s clearly the elder statesman of the film, but all he can offer the hero is shameless rationale that borders on denial.

DECADE (AND A HALF) UNDER THE INFLUENCE
While Altman may have faltered through most of the late eighties and early nineties, it had more to do with the enormous shift in cinema than with the director’s vision. His film adaptation of the beloved cartoon Popeye was a risky failure. Altman was exploring many new creative avenues… perhaps too many. His film was a musical about a popular NON-musical cartoon icon. It was Altman’s largest budget. It was also a critical and commercial failure. Popeye, along with Coppola’s Apocalypse Now and Michael Cimino’s notoriously bloated Heaven’s Gate tightened the reigns on 70’s filmmakers. Because of these costly endeavors, the studios took back the power from directors and have retained that control ever since. Altman would never helm a major studio film again. It may have taken the next decade for Altman to come to terms with these constraints. In the end, was worth the wait.

In the early 1990’s, Altman returned to critical acclaim with the searing black comedy The Player. Born out of the creative turmoil he faced in Hollywood following Popeye, The Player was a sinister look at the inner-workings of an industry that had given him every freedom and inevitably taken them all back. What was most notable about the film’s reception is that its champions were, coincidentally, Hollywood insiders themselves. Did this in some respect pave the way for the self-congratulatory work to come (how much fun has this industry gotten out of patting its own back? See also HBO’s over-hyped and under-amusing Entourage).

EAVESDROPPING
It can be said that Altman was not meant for the big-budget film, and vice versa. His films didn’t hit you over the head with lessons to be learned, nor did they flourish due to grand camera moves and roaring musical scores. It’s comical to imagine him at the helm of a Gladiator or Troy. Those situational “epics” didn’t seem to interest him in the slightest. It wasn’t the grand that fascinated Altman, but the mundane. His films are the conversations you hear from the next table over, the ones you probably shouldn’t be listening in on, but can’t help yourself.

If a person approaches an Altman film expecting to see anything BUT a Robert Altman film, he or she is likely to be confused and possibly anxious. This may be what kept his audiences relatively small, but also incredibly loyal. Altman didn’t reveal his themes, nor did he indicate where these particular stories would lead. He didn’t seem concerned with where he was taking you. It was never about the destination to Robert Altman, but the journey itself.

That was the kind of journey Altman knew to be endlessly more rewarding.

-Sam Jaeger