Kids and Hatchets: an unlikely duo

Where has our summer gone?

It was spent learning Humility. 

Yes, Humility w a capital H.

Witness our cheezoid poster for a cheesier movie that doesn't quite work:

But we lick our wounds and move on

(although we kinda like the poster).

On a happier note, the summer was fruitful in other ways.  We indulged in a super fun day of shooting the boys in the band; a sizzle reel for Midnight Swing!

We are now in production on a scary short that involves little kids and hatchets, lots of creepy FX and other fun things. Stay tuned for a few bloody good pics!

Finally, we signed with the lovely Knight Marcher Studios for our action/thriller "Blood Land" -- a Nicholl Fellowship quarter-finalist. Sean and Sanja Brosnan producing.

Hollywood: Fade Out

Wow. Where have we been the past several months?

We've taken an unexpected break from our Hollywood dreams and dabblings to tend to family matters. The passing of parents and the job of acting as an executor of an estate demands that you put your own life on hold.

This sad excursion has given us a chance to (momentarily) wipe the stars out of our eyes.

Now that we have some closure on the business side of that journey we're dipping our parched toe back into the waters. But maybe water isn't the best metaphor now that the rest of the world can see the damage from the ongoing drought in sunny California.

Look. It's a desert, folks. Water has been re-routed and piped in for decades so Hollywood can keep up the lush facade.

An actor friend of ours who lives and works in LA sometimes talks about the biz sucking his soul dry. But that's what you get when you live in a desert town.

The desert will win. It will eventually claim what it was meant to claim ... no matter how often you sweep the sand off your porch.

I have a prediction that there will be a mass exodus from CA to the Ohio River Valley area - where green things grown naturally from the abundance of fresh water lakes and rivers. Where earthquakes are minimal to non-existent and where the cost of living is 40% less.

I have a feeling that Hollywood will move its studios to this side of the Mississippi. If I'm wrong, the beautiful people of Hollywood will be trapped inside their bubble surrounded by the ever-encroaching desert while they sip wine under the smog ... I mean stars.

Meanwhile, we Cowtowners will continue to enjoy our film industry boom in Beautiful Ohio.

Thank you, technology (and fresh lake and river water).

In other news ...

• We're in development with Anova Pictures for our thriller Blood Land.

• Getting back in the swing of things with our Midnight Swing package.

• Considering a request to produce the hip-hop feature Groove Shack.

• ... and we're in the mad and merry process of a film contest through MOFA (Mid Ohio Filmmakers Association). We were lucky enough to get assigned the genre of Space Opera. Our team is stoked, the script is being hashed out and some awesome locations have already been secured. So ends Day 1 of this contest.

Stay tuned for more Cowtown news as we dance on the periphery of the Hollywood bubble
(um ... at least until that well runs dry). 

Botched Teddy Bears and Broken Heaters

It's the first day of 2015.

Our heater broke down and it's 21° outside.

No problem. A nice man is here fixing it.

But we have to pay him extra for holiday pay.

It seems to be taking longer to fix than we thought. 

No matter. Our stove still works.

See? I made a teddy bear pancake while wearing my winter coat.

Then I flipped it and broke it.

 Is this really how 2015 is starting out?

It's a life

A madcap couple of months.

• Still in development with Anova Pictures for the "Americanization" of our thriller script.

• Still reshaping the Midnight Swing package.

• No word from undisclosed co on the undisclosed title they hired me to write.

What does this piece of art have to do with anything?

We have plunged into a dark, cold winter ...

It's only November ...

I need something cheery to look at.

QUICKIES

Summer Flings:

• Finished 1st rough draft of romantic drama for OnFire Films. Awaiting notes. 

• Finished new opening scenes for Blood Land for Anova Pictures. More development. 

• Welcoming lovely new people to the Midnight Swing team as we reshape the pkg. 

• and visiting stray kitties at a local shelter. This old jaded heart is melting!

 It's a life.

DEATH OF THE MOVIE STAR

WHERE ARE ALL THE MOVIE STARS?

I probably don't have a point to make and none of this will enlighten anyone or make the world a better place -- but I feel the need to ramble on a bit about movie stars.

A few short weeks ago Variety put out a piece entitled Movie Stars Have Become an Endangered Species. Over on Stage 32 there’s a huge discussion on whether the era of the movie star is over.

So what is it that makes us plop down our  $10-17 for a movie ticket in this day and age when our world is full of economic woes?  Is it the star or the story?  Or is it smart marketing?

When I was younger it was 50/50 with me. I loved certain movie stars. Most teens do.  I would gladly spend my babysitting money on a ticket to see the stars. But I also saw Jaws over and over again. No stars. Just one terrifying shark.

These days, if there's a Wes Anderson, Alexander Payne or Guy Maddin film I'll be there. I have to say that reviews will also get me in a seat. I may never have seen Asghar Farhadi's excellent "A Separation" had it not been for all the glowing reviews.

Recently, though, too many editorials and thought pieces are heralding the news that we are witnessing the death of the movie star. I reluctantly agree.

Here's why.

Arguably, the most glamorous year for Hollywood was 1939. Hollywood was in its heyday. Big pictures like Gone with the Wind and the Wizard of Oz were served up. Movie Stars were untouchable, gorgeous beings – beautifully lit, meticulously groomed. Not that the current generation isn't also gorgeous and well-lit. They are.

The thing that separates today’s movie stars from Hollywood's "glamorous" era is progress and excess. The bubble used to be impenetrable. Once upon a time you could only see a movie star on the silver screen or in a magazine. IF you lived near Hollywood you might be able to see a premiere. 

Stars were pretty untouchable

 and unreachable.

Today there's a glut of self promotion on social media from stars who can't get enough attention. We see ALL aspects of their lives. They're everywhere we look. Twitter. WhoSay. Facebook. Snapchat. Blogs. You name it. It's how we all communicate. It makes the world smaller. It makes stars accessible. It also overexposes them.

Even too much ice cream will make you sick after a while.

Today, anyone can write a script, shoot a movie on iphone, and slap it on youtube or vimeo or a plethora of other sites. There’s an oversaturation.

Hollywood had its bright and shining moment – a sparkling beacon of grand cinematic wonder. But those days are over. The rest of the world doesn't need or even want to shoot movies in Hollywood. At the last American Film Market more than one notable Hollywood producer who spoke on the finance panel admitted to shooting 8 of their 10 movies outside of LA.

Why? Because it's cheaper. And infrastructure and incentives have popped up all over the map.

Hollywood had a great run – and it's not dead yet. It may remain a hub of history and archives for movies. But it will never be what it used to be. The newness and wonder are gone. We are a world that understands the gimmicks behind the magic and can make a flash-in-the-pan "star" out of a pimpled youtube teen with a drumbeat machine.

But we still need to share stories. That's what bonds people around the world. It's how we communicate.  In this brief and fleeting life it gives us a chance to share our experience.

So what is it for you? Is it the star or the story (or a slick bombardment of marketing) that will pull you out of your comfy home to buy a movie ticket?

http://variety.com/2014/voices/news/movies-stars-are-an-endangered-species-as-actors-struggle-to-stay-relevant-1201217741/

Hollywood Beauty: 10 Nails and a Pitch

Hollywood Beauty

From my archives

I am at the American Film Market. I'm surrounded by sun-kissed actors and models, producers and writers, movers and shakers. But you can spot me easily as I'm the one with chalk-stick legs, no Botox, and still wearing a teen-charm bra at this age.  I dabble in the glamorous and colorful industry of movies. But I am not a glamorous or colorful woman by industry standards. It's the humiliating adventures that add a little color to my life.

Years ago when I ventured into Hollywood for my first screenwriting seminar and networking party I promised my mom that I would do her proud. I would NOT dress like a tomboy. I would stuff my size 8-and-a-halfers into a pair of killer heels. I would glide on the lip gloss. I would sweep on the eye shadow.  And to top it off I would even wear fake press-on nails at my mother's request. "We don't want you looking like a corn-pone in the big city!" she said.

I decked myself out in all the glimmers, shimmers, potions and lacquers you can imagine. Suit? Smart. Hair? Not horrific. And my fingers sported 10 glossy, coral-colored press-on nails. Babs would have been proud.

After mingling with the crowd for an hour I found myself near the hors douvres table where a large butter sculpture of a swan swam on a bed of lettuce. Tiny goldfish crackers were sprinkled around the swan like confetti. (I don't get it either. I was hoping that if I shared that image someone might shed some light on what that was all about.)

Standing next to the swan was a rather unassuming looking man. Bespectacled. Nervous. Quiet. I introduced myself thinking he was just another overwhelmed screenwriter from out of town. After a few comments about the butter swan and scarfing down a couple handfuls of goldfish crackers he invited me to pitch my scripts. I had met my first producer!

And I had a mouth full of goldfish mush embedded in my gums.

A quick swig of Sprite and I was ready to go. I pitched the first five scripts I had written. He hated them. Then I pitched a swing-era script I didn't think would fly. He loved it. He asked many questions about the story, the characters, the budget. This guy was really into it!

I smoothed back my hair so it would have a little extra bounce during our conversation. That's when my hand – with all those lovely coral-colored press-on nails – got caught in my hair. I couldn't yank it free. Somehow, my hair had gotten twisted around the fake nails right in the middle of my captivating pitch. I mean – he looked captivated. (In retrospect, perhaps he was captivated with my dilemma and not my script.)

I didn't miss a beat as I yanked my hand as hard as I could. It came free. Much relief! Until I glanced down and noticed that two of the fake nails were missing from my carefully self-manicured hand. I casually touched my hair during the rest of our conversation. In fact, I touched it a lot, but I couldn't find the lost nails anywhere.

After we exchanged contact information, I dashed off to the ladies room and looked in the mirror. Hanging in two brilliant clumps were my fake coral nails. I had to cut them out when I got back to my motel. Thank you, God. Thank you very much.

This was my introduction into the world of moviemaking.

I have been in the periphery of the business as an indie screenwriter and producer for over 10 years now and you'd think it would be bit easier for me to develop class and poise when I take a meeting or give a presentation. I am always the one at the table with food in my teeth (I actually eat at these lunches). 

My producing partner, who is rather young and rather hot (if you have tweeny daughters his Tiger Beat or Popstar fold-out posters might still be taped to their walls), enjoys harping on me to try dazzle it up a bit – to at least use an eyelash curler so my eyes will POP. But given my past record I fear I would rip out my eyelashes during some crazy mishap while curling them. A sneeze perhaps. Or maybe an earthquake.

So I go about my life in a glam biz with poker-straight eye-lashes and chronic red test-rabbit eyes – which is  probably the only colorful thing about me. Lord knows I try. (We won't talk in great detail about the mishap with the bikini-line hair removal wax that I accidentally dropped onto my ... ahem … woman hairs down there. I had to give myself an impromptu haircut. It looked like a bad topiary job when I was through. Such is life and the cruelty of beauty.) 

Stay tuned for more misadventures of a Cowtowner in Hollywood.

From my archives, 2009