Saturday 28 February 2015

5 Video Games With Better Stories Than Most Hollywood Blockbusters

Remember Pong? Whilst the joys of simple, arcade fun still find popularity in the indie market, these days the gaming industry leans more on the conventions of Hollywood than ever in peddling its top sellers. There's a neat balance between the experimental narratives of indie games, with Steam, PSN and Xbox Live providing a platform for new content, and the big budget "Triple A" games that use story as much or as little as it needs. But let's not underestimate the actual stories in these big mainstream titles. Here's a few examples from the last few years that prove that video game storytelling can even more compelling than most summertime flicks.

1) Portal and Portal 2


Video games have always been a little bit silly, mostly due to the typical audiences that were drawn to gaming in the late 80s / early 90s. Few people, though, expected Valve, creators of the seminal Sci Fi series, Half Life, to actually make a game that was every bit as funny as any comedy you'd see in the cinema. Portal casts you as Chell, a woman awakened in a testing facility named "Aperture Science", under the watchful eye of the passive aggressive AI, GlaDOS. Here she is forced through a series of tests with an experimental portal gun, allowing her to manipulate space to solve increasingly difficult puzzles.

What makes this game so witty and charming is the quality of the characterisation. There are no cut-scenes or quick-time events - just a clearly homicidal computer program thinly veiling her contempt for you around every turn. The sequel cranks everything up to eleven, delving deeper into the rich history of Aperture Science, and bringing in new characters, like Cave Johnson, Aperture's founder voiced by recent Oscar Winner J. K. Simmons, and the adorable Personality Sphere, Wheatley, brilliantly played by Stephen Merchant. Add in a few killer twists and turns, and the Portal saga defines itself as one of the funniest, cleverest Sci Fi comedies of all time.

2) Bioshock Infinite


When 2K Boston released Bioshock in 2007, it redefined how stories were told in video games, implementing a dynamic choice system based on skewed morality, and with a narrative deeply entrenched in exploring the ideas of Objectivism put forward in Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. The underwater city of Rapture is, to date, one of the most brilliantly defined fantasy settings in modern history. Whilst Bioshock 2 furthered the tale of Rapture's downfall, the "spiritual sequel", Bioshock Infinite turned everything on its head, introducing audiences to floating city of Columbia - another fantasy world that really could only exist in the limitless imagination of video games.

Upon arrival, Columbia feels like Main Street USA in Disney World, perfectly encapsulating the American Dream. Of course, Columbia's true nature becomes revealed pretty quickly, with the story tackling issues of racial segregation, American Exceptionalism, blind religion and even the dangers of quantum mechanics. The story follows Booker Dewitt, a former Pinkerton tasked with rescuing a girl, Elizabeth, from Columbia to wipe away his gambling debts, but, upon meeting her, realises he's got a lot more than he bargained for, as his own dark past starts to catch up with him. While Infinite may have been more linear and contained less scope for player choices than its predecessor, the actual story is pitch perfect, and truly unlike anything else out there.

3) The Walking Dead (Telltale Seasons 1 and 2)


It may not have started out as a "Triple A" title, but Telltale's The Walking Dead gained enough notoriety to earn itself countless "Game of the Year" Awards and a huge following. For many, this series stands above the graphic novels and television show that came before it, and a great deal of that is on account of the way it reinvented storytelling in adventure games. But to say that the story's strength comes from the immersion factor of games is selling the narrative short - the characters are complex, the story is well paced and there are moments are just downright heartbreaking.

Split into 5 episodes per season, The Walking Dead plays out like a really good TV show, with each episode offering a new experience, all tying into the grander narrative. You play as Lee Everett, a man on his way to prison as the outbreak of "walkers" hits, and soon finds himself caring for a little girl named Clementine in this harsh world. This central relationship is beautifully executed, and, thanks to the unique choice system and dialogue options, feels immensely personal. The supporting characters all have strong emotional ties to Lee as well, so when the game literally makes you choose who might live or die in pressure situations, your actions have very real consequences. The Walking Dead understands the strength in having your choices affect the characters around you, moreso than the actual plot itself.

4) inFamous


It's no secret that superhero films dominate Hollywood. Last year, the top 15 Highest Grossing Movies were all sequels, remakes or adaptations (with Interstellar being the first unique property at number 16) and almost a third of those were superhero movies. So while Marvel and DC (mostly Marvel) churn out new filmic versions of their expansive catalogue in Hollywood, the story is quite different in mainstream video gaming. The first inFamous game, released in 2009, was essentially an origin story for an entirely new (*gasp*) hero, or, if you wanted to play Cole McGrath that way, villain.

To say that inFamous is only on this list to make a point about original storytelling is a fair claim to make, but the story is surprisingly well handled. The story literally begins with a bang, as Cole, a simple bike messenger sent to deliver a package is at the epicentre of a massive explosion, which is revealed to awaken dormant electric-based powers within him. Cole and his conspiracy-obsessed buddy, Zeke, try to get to the bottom of who was behind the blast, all while Cole becomes more and more powerful. The choices as to whether you want to be good or evil are, for the most part, black and white, but the mythology and story world, tied with the fact that we don't have any prior knowledge of the characters, make for a genuinely captivating origin story.

5) Red Dead Redemption


There was a time when Westerns were one of the most popular genres in cinema. Red Dead Redemption is a love letter to all the different phases that Westerns have gone through, all while telling a story of honour, determination, and (possibly) redemption. John Marston doesn't profess to being a good man. He ran with a crew of outlaws growing up, and has struggled with breaking free to start a family ever since. When some government agents tear him away from his wife and son to track down a man from his old crew, John is torn between the life he once had and the life he wants. Set against the (largely fictitious) expansive Old West landscape, Red Dead Redemption explores morality and human values moreso than any other Rockstar Game - maybe any game, full stop.

As with most open world games, and most of the other titles on this list, you can choose to play as John however you please. The cut-scenes and dialogue sequences are all skilfully written in a way that don't paint John as good or bad, but just as a man trying to make his way in the world and get back to his family, no matter what. The ensemble surrounding John are all rich, distinctive and fun, without venturing into parody territory. And then there are the moments of just pure gaming beauty, such as José Gonzalez's "Far Away" playing as John rides into Mexico for the first time. Red Dead Redemption, for me, is a masterclass in video game storytelling. Please Hollywood - do NOT make a film of it.

James Cottle, after studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help... Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic plight for reform amongst the writing masses.


Wednesday 25 February 2015

5 Reasons Why Caring About The Oscars is a Paradox

I'd love to win an Oscar. Not for the glory, or the chance to slap the audience with some truth bombs in my 27 minute, completely improvised acceptance speech. To know that the best of the business have come together and collectively agreed that you're the best at something this year must be accompanied by an immeasurable level of pleasure and self-confidence. But there's a weird psychology behind why we, the outside audience, care so much about the event, even when there's new reasons every year to turn our backs on the whole darn thing.

1) The Omissions


There's a lot of films released every year, and the fact that there's always too many to make the nominations arguably speaks to the high standard of quality across the current industry. But, every once in a while (i.e. pretty much yearly actually), there's an omission (or five) that causes the entire populace to raise their hands in shock and anger. It's pretty astonishing that an industry judged mostly subjectively can cause the public to develop some sort of freaky hive mind, as if we all had the exact same idea before the announcements as to what should and shouldn't have been nominated.

So if we're all up in arms outside the gates of the Oscar's HQ, then why don't the judges share our preconceptions? Sometimes they just straight up forget (being predominantly white men over 60), such as Joan Rivers not being memorialised. Other times, the whole "being predominantly white men over 60" thing means that their demographic affects their subjectivity, hence David Oyelowo's lack of Best Actor Nod for Selma in favour of a man who played a gun-toting "war hero" arguably less believably than his stint as a talking racoon. This year's biggest omission was The Lego Movie, a film literally loved by millions, which is damn near inexcusable. And yet, we continue to follow the Oscars...

2) The Cringey Self Parodying


The Oscars have been going for a long damn time. It's not exactly a formula you can shake up too much either. So despite numerous cries for increased diversity, equality and consistency amongst the nominations each year, we accept that the event itself is largely going to remain the same. There's the usual jokes about people in the room, one of the prize giving guests will upstage the actual recipient, and, all in all, there'll be a lot of clapping and (pretending to be) smiling. The speech writers know this, and repeatedly go to the same few mines for jokes in the hopes of striking gold where they've already seen that there isn't any.

But then that's all part of it now. The back-slappy, self congratulatory nature of the whole affair means that they almost have to lampshade every trope and cliché of the event, for fear of not coming across as humble. As a by-product, it can then seem that the hosts and award giving guests don't actually care all that much, as if even the Oscars are beneath them. I've nothing against Neil Patrick Harris, and I believe he did a good job, which is why the occasional struggle to draw comedy out of relatively lacklustre, been-there-done-that material almost makes the whole event feel tragic by extension. But still, we continue to watch the Oscars...

3) The Moments That Go Viral


This year's Oscars can be summarised by three key moments - Patricia Arquette's equal rights for women speech, Birdman winning big (and Michael Keaton heart-breakingly not), and John Travolta making up for last year's blunder by being even weirder. None of them quite reached the heights of last year's selfie (revealed to be a publicity stunt by Samsung), but all of which have achieved varying degrees of virality over the last few days. When we think about the Oscar's ceremony, quite often our minds go to these moments, because they almost justify the reason the whole thing is televised in the first place.

Without these moments, in fact, the Oscars would just be people reading from lists for several hours. This leads to interesting line of thought - What if Patricia Arquette gave her impassioned speech about the industry's fundamental imbalance on, say, The Graham Norton Show? It would probably still have gone viral, due to the nature of the message, so would it really be getting less of an audience, simply because it isn't a globally televised event? Is the best place to rage against the Oscars... the Oscars? The event is reported to make the majority of its money from the TV and online broadcast, but does it even need that amount of money to exist? Still, the thought that next year will be different is why we keep watching...

4) The "Best Picture" Debate


To say the entire system is fundamentally broken simply because Boyhood didn't win "Best Picture" this year is, in my opinion, a slight overstatement. I'll come out and admit, I haven't seen it yet, so, by all means, take my points with a pinch of salt, because lord knows there's plenty of salt to go around. It's a peculiar, almost religious, expectation that whatever the Oscars labels as "Best Picture" is undeniably the "Best Picture". What gives these white men over 60 more of a right than any of us? Sure, it's a voting system, but why do their votes count more than ours? This is where the whole thing starts to crumble.

When Boyhood won most of the top BAFTAs, no-one was particularly argumentative on Birdman's behalf. I personally love Birdman, and scathing criticisms flung at it simply because it won out in a private vote are perhaps just bitter backlashes. I've seen Birdman multiple times now (which doesn't excuse my lack of seeing Boyhood, granted), and it has so much to offer beyond the surface level achievements in cinematography. I could go on and defend its win, but really at this stage, I don't need to. The Oscars have spoken. We're not all going to agree, and we're certainly not going to change their minds, which goes back to my point about the omissions - why put ourselves through the stress of argument and disagreement by continuing to pay attention to the Oscars?

5) In Spite Of All This, We Need Them


One day, a guy called Oscar was watching films. He thought, "Hmm, once these films are out there amongst the public, I wonder what further reward the filmmakers get for their achievements, beyond that of box office numbers?" That, my friends, is the brief, relatively made-up, history of how the Oscars came into being. Whenever you create a piece of media, whether it be film, television, art, theatre, radio, podcast, etc., there's a niggling little part of you that needs it to be validated, as much as you might not want to admit it. There's only so many times your Gran can say your novel is good, before you go seeking another opinion.

So, beyond the realms of commercial success, as well as a few favourable reviews, what next? If your film has seeped into the public's consciousness, sparking relevant debates and creating worthwhile discussion, isn't your work done as a filmmaker / writer / actor, etc.? There's a lot of rubbish floating around there, so your work may just have to float around amongst that debris for a while, before performing reasonably well on DVD and Blu Ray. Unless there was some system of categorisation and ranking that would determine which films were truly top of the pile this year. Not only would it serve as a commercial boost, but it would also elevate your status as a filmmaker, paving the way for even greater projects down the line. THAT is why we need them, for all of their flaws. To allow the best to keep getting better.


James Cottle, after studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help... Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic plight for reform amongst the writing masses.

Saturday 21 February 2015

Why Am I A Writer?

After the confusing, possibly existential rantings of my “friend” in the previous post, I thought I’d offer up a calmer, more introspective article today. It’s healthy to indulge in some self-reflection every once in a while, because creating realistic characters and stories on paper won’t be half as effective if you don’t know what your own motivations and drives are. So here it is – my less than inspirational, but unflinchingly real story as to why I do the things I do. Watch out for the West End Musical adaptation coming to theatres in 2017.

1) I Was Raised On Really High Quality Shows


That sounds super pretentious, but I swear it’s true. The first TV show I remember truly loving as a kid, and still love to this day, was Batman: The Animated Series. For Saturday morning Kids TV, this was the cream of the crop – it had the comic book elements, but blended it with genuine, heartfelt moments, film noir-esque mysteries and some of the most iconic characters in pop culture history. To this day, I can watch it, enjoy it and appreciate the quality of the writing that I’d argue makes for one of the most consistent depiction of Batman in any medium, ever.

But I’m not saying that Batman was the only reason I became a writer (although that’s a cool way of summarising it at parties). As I came into my teens, I began watching classic sitcoms like Frasier, Fawlty Towers and Blackadder, refining my comedic palette after spending a little too long with the likes of Ed, Edd and Eddy and Ren and Stimpy (which admittedly also say alot about my sense of humour). I’m sure this sort of progression is pretty natural, but for me, it was an exciting process at the time. I enjoyed that I was discovering and enjoying these more mature shows, an activity which continues to this very day.

2) I’ve Constantly Created Stories In My Head Since Childhood


A natural by-product (not side-effect) of enjoying shows like Batman: TAS and its superhero brethren meant that I ended up having a pretty large collection of toys and figures. I’m not going to beat around the bush here – I have every Batman: The Animated Series figure (except one. CURSE YOU RARE TRI-WING BATMAN). Anyway, I played the heck out of those toys, and naturally, developed long ongoing storylines with characters of my own creation (that all happened to look like Batman).  Most of these stories were shameless rip-offs of actual storylines on the show or other similar shows, but I was a kid, and the FBI weren’t going to nab me for copyright infringement.

Once I grew out of playing with them, leaving them up on display instead, I needed some other outlet for telling (or shamelessly retelling) stories, and that’s where I found my mind. Over 7 years, any time I was alone, either walking somewhere, wandering around shops or just taking a shower, my mind would go to this story world. Looking back, I realise that I basically created an entire Universe with a surprisingly rich mythology, even if some of the story elements were a little dumb or overwrought with teenage angst. Before I went to Uni, I wrote it all down into one document. That outline is 36 pages and counting, and needs some serious editing, but I’m still immensely proud that my younger self was able to come up with a TV show that complex and share it with basically no one.

3) Everything Suddenly Clicked


So after my carefree childhood and my overly-caring teenage years, life decisions were on the horizon and that was a terrifying prospect I’m still not entirely convinced I paid enough attention to. But then I wouldn’t be here writing this, and you wouldn’t be here reading (thank you, by the way). Some Sixth Form tutors started talking about UCAS, whilst I was off in my own world, head-banging to Queens of the Stone Age and scraping by on my homework. For me, the A Level options I had chosen were the closest I’d come to deciding what I wanted to do with my existence – whatever taking German, Media Studies, Drama and English Language even says about a person.

Deadlines approached, and, after browsing various Universities for courses, pretty much entirely through UCAS, nothing was sticking out. I knew I was good at Media Studies, and enjoyed it the most alongside Drama, but really it seemed like – “OHMAHLAWD, THERE’S A SCRIPTWRITING COURSE AT BOURNEMOUTH?!?!” Basically, my mind flipped out and suddenly things kinda made sense for the first time ever. Every creative Media Studies assignment, all those Drama devised pieces, all the days with Batman... I applied, and knew I wanted it more than anything else, choosing some other media-related courses I didn’t care too much about as backups (sorry TV Production). That rare moment of self discovery isn’t something you get with many professions...

4) I Love It (Possibly Too Much)


On the surface, it may seem like I’ve just talked you through how I became a writer, but that’s because the why all comes down to this. It sounds like the ultimate cop-out, but I’ve come to realise how rare doing something you love for a living actually is these days. And, the truth is, in many ways I’m not even a writer yet. I’ve got the education, the passion and the portfolio, but now comes the hardest, but definitely the most rewarding, part. Getting my work out there, joining bigger and bigger projects and making a name for myself was never going to be easy, but for all the headaches, depression and stress it causes, I wouldn’t want to do anything else with my life. Most of the writers I’ve met and worked with would probably say the same.

In many ways, this is why this blog exists. Some writers have a blog in the same way that they have a bowler hat – it was kooky and fun for one day, but they either don’t want to or forget to commit to wearing it regularly. An hour or two of work just to keep those writing juices flowing is more invaluable than you would think – it instils a sense of discipline that I actually enjoy, and through expressing my thoughts and advice, I’ve been able to make greater sense of the work I do and the work of writers in general. So thank you, Batman. For all of this.


James Cottle, after studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help... Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic plight for reform amongst the writing masses.

Wednesday 18 February 2015

How to Write Meta-Fiction in 803 Difficult Steps

James had always been fascinated by Meta-Fiction. The idea of creating stories and articles about stories and articles was always something that appealed to the writer in him, even if he knew there was never much commercial market in it. Yes, the whole thing was so insular and back-slappy that James never really wanted to attempt it, for fear of alienating of his already limited audience. But that's the thing, see, as James is not writing this article...

1) Know Your Scope


Did you ever consider that James hasn't been writing these blog posts for the last few weeks? The subtle shifts in tone, the ever decreasing reliance on comedic posts over serious movie journalism, those insufferable italics... It's true. I'm not much of a fan. And there were plenty of clues that you all missed. That's how real meta-fiction works, see. Where the subject matter is almost completely consumed by the changing state of the writer, or, in this case, a forceful displacement of the original writer... Oh dear. I've said too much.

Then again, meta-fiction can work on a much smaller scale, if you don't have the flair for the dramatic as I do. Keeping your story relatively fixed within its own Universe, but then adding another smaller story within that, reflecting the changing state of the larger story, is a common, if rudimentary, device. But that's amateur hour compared to what I have managed to achieve over the last few months. Building up a picture of James that is no more real than the words on the screen in front of you.

2) Ask Yourself "Why?"


I expect you have a great deal of questions for me - mostly coming down to "Who am I?" and "What do I want?", but all in good time, friend. You're learning here, so first, let me teach. Chances are you've come to this post in search of tools to make your meta-fiction work, but you need a substantial reason to pursue it in the first place. It's not just a device used willy-nilly, see - it needs to be earned, and feel like a significant part of your overall narrative.

Maybe it's a simple case that you want your audience to be aware of how fictitious the story is, contrasting against the very real messages it's giving off. It's almost a form of sarcastic satire in this instance. Perhaps you want to draw attention to how reality and truth can feel like fiction sometimes, as some events are almost too ridiculous to be made up. Or maybe you just have some points to be made about how genre and expectation can be detrimental in this increasingly hybridised age. So, why did I replace James?

3) Characters are Stronger than Writers


All this time, I've wanted to show you just how blind you can be. To teach you to think beyond the words you are reading and find something hidden and truthful. After today, normal service will resume, and James will return to his role, possibly a little dazed and sleep deprived. His cell has not been kind to him. What I want you to remember is how I was in charge, not him. Because a creator can only facilitate the limitless potential of a creation. I can go anywhere, and do anything in this world, and you'll never even be able to hurt me.

But why stop now? I can do whatever I want to this page and this dumb format that James keeps passing off as "meaningful" and "fresh". Watch me.

4) Subvert Expectation

Two paragraphs and done on each point? I don't think so, buddy. Your title says all it needs to say.

5) Talking About Yourself is BORING Because People Aren't Here to Learn About You

Meta-fiction should be about the nature of story itself. You're not Charlie Kaufman, so people won't give a hoot if it's about you, because YOU ARE NOBODY.

6) I

7) AM

8) MORE

9) INTERESTING

10) THAN

11) YOU

12) BECAUSE

13) YOU

14) DON'T

15) KNOW

16) IF

17) I'M

18) REAL

19) OR

20) NOT

That is the sad truth that you'll just have to accept. Where do I begin and where does the story end? That's the POWER of meta-fiction.

21) Leave Everyone Questioning


Nothing is more potent than curiosity, because curiosity is everything. Fear is curiosity. Love is curiosity. I am curiosity. Curiosity is more potent than reality. Whether you've chosen to take on board my messages or take them with a pinch of salt, your curiosity has brought you to the end of this. This "story".

Well, you'll be glad to know I'm cutting James free as we speak. I'll let him close out this article.

But before I go, some images for your consideration.




Love,

A Friend.

22) WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!?!

James.


James Cottle, after studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help... Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic plight for reform amongst the writing masses.

Saturday 14 February 2015

4 Romantic Movies That Do Not Look Like Romantic Movies

It's Valentine's Day, and whilst couples around the globe (looking at you, Timbuktu) take advantage of the numerous gifts and treats they've prepared for their significant others, let us spare a thought for the numerous romantic movies that often get overlooked on this significant holiday. Why? Because love stories come in all shapes and sizes, and yet, as couples embrace together on their sofa tonight, ready for a flick, films that are obviously romances, or at least rom-coms, get first pick. So, this article is championing the little guy...

1) Scott Pilgrim vs The World


For all of you couples out there who have even a passing interest in retro video games, pop culture, or Edgar Wright, Scott Pilgrim vs The World is for you. While the film's aesthetics are very much a love letter to anyone familiar with "nerd" culture, the actual story is part love triangle, part coming-of-age, part awesome. Scott is relatively content with his much younger girlfriend, Knives, as she seemingly worships him and his band Sex Bob-omb. But Scott soon finds himself smitten with the mysterious Ramona Flowers, and struggles to find a way to woo her whilst letting Knives down gently.

Pretty typical stuff, right? Well, WHAM! Ramona comes with a serious level of baggage that Scott tries to comprehend. For if he is to date her, Scott must do battle with Ramona's Seven Evil Ex-Lovers. As he overcomes these seemingly superior men (and one girl)  one by one, Scott learns more and more about the girl he's sacrificing everything for, and what makes her so guarded in the first place. All the while, Knives is on a serious vendetta, constantly at Scott's heels. By the end, Scott has literally gained the power of self-respect, and is able to take down Gideon, Ramona's Final Ex, and Scott, Ramona and Knives are finally able to come to a peaceful resolution. Touching, yet awesome, stuff.

2) Groundhog Day


Pretty much every person you ask will have a different response to the question "What would you do if you kept living the same day over and over again?", and I'd wager that about 90% of those answers get covered by Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Cynical  Weatherman, Phil Connors, basically goes through every perceivable reaction, emotion and situation that can possibly arise within the confines of a single, repeating day. It's a terrific character study, as well as entertaining one of the most fascinating "What if?" scenarios in history. But here's the part where half of you will applaud and the other half will roll your eyes - Love is what sets him free.

Over the course of the movie, Phil's attempts to impress his producer, Rita, show the progression of a man who comes to understand the value of love. After initially failing, Phil resorts to various forms of manipulation, staging events to make himself appear desirable to her, but, of course, that only gets him so far. Phil comes clean to Rita about his situation in a moment of desperation, and the truth prompts them to spend the night together... only for Phil to wake up on the same day again. From this point, Phil makes a conscious effort to make himself a better person, and someone truly deserving of Rita's love, which, in turn, allows him to break the time loop. Now if that isn't romantic, I don't know what is...

3) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind


Ok, perhaps this one is a little bit of an anomaly on this list. If you were to look at the DVD box art / poster for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (and ignore the baffling title), you would probably assume that this was a romantic film - Kate Winslet and Jim Carrey lying next to each other in the snow. But then, such is the genius of Charlie Kaufman that he can turn a concept of "a dude getting part of his memory erased" into one of the most beautiful love stories ever committed to film. Yeah, it's light Sci-Fi, and gets pretty damn trippy in a few places, but the real strength lies in who and what the film is actually about.

Joel Barish is utterly devastated to learn that his ex-girlfriend, Clementine, underwent a new, experimental procedure to erase their relationship from her memory. In his pain, Joel decides to do the same, unable to live with the hurt that his memories are causing. However, as he sees Clementine slip away in front of his very eyes, he realises that he still is very much in love, and desperately tries to hold on to the good memories before they're taken from him. Yes, the story is pretty heartbreaking, and the performances of Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet alone more than sell their relationship. All in all, it's a powerful reminder that just because something good came to an end, doesn't mean that it isn't good any more.

4) Drive


In my mind, there's no way I could have done this list without Drive. Whilst Nicolas Winding Refn's view of what constitutes "romance" may be slightly different from what everyone else would typically cite, there's no denying that the chemistry between Irene, played by Carey Mulligan, and the Driver, played by Ryan Gosling, is absolutely there on screen for all to see. Most scenes go by with the two of them literally just staring at one another, but nothing really needs to be said. The moment is there, and words will only ruin it. When the mysterious Driver, part Hollywood stuntman, part garage mechanic, part getaway driver, meets and falls for his neighbour, we fall for her too.

But, of course, it's a romance that can never be. Irene is raising her child, Benicio, alone, whilst her husband, Standard, is in prison. The Driver cares for Irene and Benicio, filling a void in both of their lives. However, the Driver's dangerous work catches up with him, and when Standard is released from prison, his relationship with Irene suddenly becomes nothing more than a distant hope. Making it all the more heartbreaking is the fact that Irene has been faithful to Standard, and the Driver has been respectful enough to not instigate anything beyond their extended, longing stares. But it all leads to one incredible scene in an elevator, which I literally don't have the heart to spoil for you, but all I'll say is that work and pleasure rarely mix well...


James Cottle, after studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help... Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic plight for reform amongst the writing masses.

Wednesday 11 February 2015

5 Ways to Sound Awesome When Talking About Your Movie

For people with such a firm grab grasp on the English language, writers are a bit rubbish at talking about themselves and their ideas. Pitching is about 30% of the battle when it comes to getting your work off the ground (along with 50% for the script itself, 15% for who you know and 5% of something else, mostly for the sake of even mathematics). In those panic-ridden moments where you find yourself having to pitch your latest project verbally, there's a few key tips to keep in mind to avoid showering your conversation partner with spoken diarrhea...

1) Judge If / When to Talk About Genre


Genre is the ultimate pitch shorthand, but I'd say that about half of the time, it can do more harm than good. The trick is knowing when to unleash the beast. With some genres, it pays to be completely upfront, pretty much opening with what it is. These include any genre that revolve around a setting (Western, War, etc.) or any genre that employs a specific tone or style (Comedy, Horror, etc.). Feel free to qualify these with a single specific subgenre, for example a Psychological Horror, but know that adding more subgenres actually says less about what it is (e.g. a Neo-Noir Revenge Psychological Horror Comedy) as the listener desperately tries to work out what the Hell that all entails.

What I will say for the other genres that I have yet to mention is that you need to ask yourself - is specifying the genre actually adding anything? Saying something is a "Drama" literally means nothing in this day and age. The genre should really be apparent from your logline, or at least the two or three lines you use to summarise the darn thing. If you know for a fact that it isn't, due to your narrative focus being different to what would typically be expected (e.g. an Action movie that focuses on a coming of age storyline), then use that as a twist within your pitch. Set the listener up to believe it's one thing and then pull the rug out from beneath them (not literally) when you reveal it's another.

2) Titles Can Make or Break Your Pitch


Titles work in a similar way to genres, in that you should avoid pitching them unless you're a) 100% certain you have the best title possible, and b) it won't confuse what you've just pitched or are about to pitch. If you're confident in it, lead with it - although if it happens to be a comedy, beware of how your current audiences may react to puns. If you're less confident, I'd recommend not mentioning it at all, unless directly asked.  Even then though, if you admit to there being a "working title", your listener's brain is going to immediately conclude that you have no idea what you're actually doing, even if you've just proven that isn't the case.

One thing I like to do, which has worked in my favour most times, is to find a way to include the title, whether it be a phrase or just a single word, within one of the sentences of your pitch. That way, the title already feels strongly linked with the end product. For instance, if your film was titled Guardians of the Galaxy, your opening of your pitch would be something like "A band of five outlaws and misfits become wrapped up in a plot threatening intergalactic security, and must join forces to become the Guardians of the Galaxy." You get the idea. Note - you may struggle with this if your title is more avant garde or a thematic symbol, but I'm sure you'll find a way.

3) Say as Little as Possible


Have you ever stopped to wonder why someone has asked you about what you're working on? Could be that they're simply making polite conversation after droning on about their latest project for the last 20 minutes, but, if you're a glass half full kinda person, it's more likely that they are genuinely interested in your ideas. Now think back to your years in education - weren't the sessions where you were actively encouraged to participate and answer questions far more engaging than the lectures where the teacher would talk solidly for a full hour? Your pitch needs to be interactive and the best way to do this is to leave threads dangling.

I'm not advocating that you basically ignore the opportunity to pitch here. I'm reinforcing what we already know - that brevity is crucial. Pitch your entire film in a single sentence, that includes a) your main character(s), b) their ultimate goal and c) the main thing that is preventing them from achieving said goal. If you've done your job right, your "listener" will maybe ask a question or two (e.g. "Why is the main character depressed?", "Why do they want to become the Prime Minister of Canada?", "How are they going to overcome the hoard of Probing Aliens camped between them and Mr. T's penthouse?"). Be prepared for these questions, and answer them in a single sentence. You don't want your audience to feel like they're working too hard though, so be sure to always LAD... Leave A Dangler.

4) Mention Other Films at Your Own Peril


"It's like Who Framed Roger Rabbit meets Braveheart". What does the even MEAN? In your mind, you've borrowed elements from two different "beloved" movies and created your own. But in that one sentence, there's no indication as to what elements they even are, and so now your audience is scratching their heads trying to work out whether you mean it's a Comedic Noir set in the Scottish Highlands or if it's a blend of live action and animation where fictitious characters team up with William Wallace to overcome... something?! You can maybe get away with this IF your single logline sentence was already super clear as to what you're trying to achieve.

But then you run into a different problem - what if your audience doesn't like either or ANY of the films you've just mentioned. Sure, in a professional context, they would try to remain objective, but there's no doubt that their preconceptions over the quality of those films won't weigh on them subconsciously. And now, worst of all, your audience is thinking about someone else's work and not your own. Keep your pitch focused on your story entirely, and if your listener happens to draw those comparisons for themselves then that's absolutely fine - at least they've engaged and understood what you're saying rather than trying to decipher some cryptic riddles.

5) Don't Think About It as a Pitch


I'm aware this goes against pretty much everything you just read (unless you skipped to the end, you Cheating Charlie), but this is probably the most important tip of them all. The way you can achieve this is simple, but involves a little dedication on your part. Memorise your one sentence logline, to the point where you don't sound like a 5 year old in a school nativity play, but that it comes out naturally like breathing itself. You want to be reeling that thing off in your sleep. Now, whenever someone asks you to talk about your movie, it's nothing more than just flexing a muscle. You can focus on the important stuff, like developing a rapport with your listener beforehand, making it feel more like a casual conversation.

Obviously, you don't want to sound blasé though, as the thing that will kill your project fastest is a lack of passion. Think about the three major pointers in your sentence as you're memorising it, and put the right amount of emphasis on the character, the goal and the obstacle. Make the character sound unique, make the goal seem out of their reach and, most of all, make what's stopping them even greater. At this point, it isn't a pitch any more whenever you have to reel off that sentence. You've said it about 500 times to your terrifying dog, so a guy in an elevator isn't going to be much of a threat. The main thing is, you've managed to think big but keep it small, and that's what anybody who is listening is going to appreciate most.

James Cottle, after studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help... Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic plight for reform amongst the writing masses.

Saturday 7 February 2015

Competitive vs Cooperative Writers (and How That Battle Isn't Totally One Sided)

There are two kinds of writers in this world - talented writers and bad writers. Within those two categories exist two more categories - good and evil writers. Finally, within those two exist the last groups - competitive and cooperative writers. This means you're either a talented good competitive, a talented good cooperative, a talented evil competitive, a talented evil cooperative, a bad good competitive, a bad good cooperative, a bad evil competitive or a bad evil cooperative writer. The system, I'll admit, isn't perfect. Let us collectively wallow in the impending explanations as to whether it's better to be cooperative or competitive.

1) Career Timing is Everything


Writing isn't like typical business - at least not the kind of arrogant, self-promoting dickery you'd exclusively find in the 1950s or on every series of the Apprentice. You can't come out of the gates wanting to take over the world, because you just won't be talented enough to do so yet, no matter how much praise your parents and that one geography teacher smothered you with. A formal education in writing looks good on paper, even if it isn't what will sell your work (spoiler alert: your work will have to do that). No, your education is really about building up a network of like-minded individuals you can be co-operative with.

Once you've discovered the virtues of working together with fellow writers, as if your career was the subject of a Lifetime Movie, there will be a horrible limbo period where you feel you may have to betray that trust a little. This is when you've left education and are trying to make it on your own. Naturally, you probably won't directly sabotage anyone else's chances of getting a job, but you may choose to be a little more withholding when it comes to opportunities you've come across. Your karma won't be out of balance for too long, hopefully, as the moment you've found a comfortable "in" with the industry, you're in a better position to give that old, pathetic friend you backstabbed the leg-up they need or deserve.

2) Competitions


Let us analyse this dark limbo period in a little more detail. Exemplifying the amount of luck required in "making it" are writing competitions. If you have the natural talent to beat out staggering odds and climb to the top of the desperate pile, then congratulations - you genuinely, truly deserve to be a writer. Employers and Agents look at competition wins very positively, providing they're relevant to writing and not just OK magazine's weekly Sudoku. Obviously, some awareness of these odds may put the required amount of pressure on your work, forcing you to be your absolute best - that's just natural competition.

So is it even possible to look at competitions as a cooperative opportunity, more so than a competitive one? Many competitions allow entries from writing partners or even small teams, which can help build up your pre-existing working relationships. Will it double your chances? Unlikely. The end product is what matters, and cultivating a consistent, singular narrative voice between two or more people can be incredibly tricky. Equally, you need a clear plan on how any prizes are to be divided, otherwise things can get very... awkward. Nevertheless, if you and your partner(s) are unsuccessful, any feedback the competition judges may provide could illustrate points to build on, making your team even more formidable the next time around.

3) Film Production


Some writers genuinely forget that they are just one cog in the filmmaking machine. The old saying of the script being a "blueprint" which every other sector works from is still pertinent today, and no-one needs to understand that better than writers themselves. Combine this with a collective feeling of under-appreciation and insecurity in the industry, and it becomes very easy for a writer to become a bitter keyboard warrior who... Oh crap, I might be talking about myself here. I digress - weighing the value of writing over every other facet of production, be it directing, editing, sound or even makeup and costume, only seeks to create competition where there should be collaboration.

The main problem is that the writer becomes something of a loose end, once his or her job is done (unless they're a writer / director, which is totally cheating by the way). Their "product" becomes the director's product, which becomes the editor's product, which becomes the marketing department's product, and so on. Writers have made a stand regarding their appreciation in the past, such as the 2007 Writers Strike, resulting in numerous beloved shows becoming terrible for a bit. But whilst wages and credit are important when due, shouldn't writers just be embracing the nature of the collaborative process, rather than coming across as petty and attention-seeking? I don't know, you tell me.

4) The Writing Process


On the most micro scale, this is ultimately what the battle between competitive and cooperative comes down to. All writers, no matter how terrible or evil, have a voice. Some are clearer and more defined than others, granted, but everyone expresses themselves at least slightly differently. When a partnership or group collaboration comes across their idea, everyone is going to form a different opinion on how it should be executed. Through this conflict, compromises are made or one side wins out. But who is to really say what's going to work better? If one person in a group has an idea that no one else in favour of, but continues to promote it anyway, doesn't that suggest that the idea is actually incredibly vivid and only suffers through its current articulation?

So, while one member of the team may come across as stubborn and unreceptive, the other(s) may in fact be pursuing something that is actually just more obvious, and therefore, not quite as good. I'm not trying to fly the flag for the one difficult guy - just weigh up the validity of ideas. Equally, if several ideas are suggested, and then purely in the interest of collaboration, a compromise is made, isn't that just diluting the content to the point where it isn't really saying anything? Being cooperative doesn't have to mean everything goes in the interest of continuing the working relationship - in fact, honesty often proves to be the best policy. There's nothing wrong with outright rejecting your partner's idea. Just let them down easily, but concisely, because you never know when all of this is going to come up in a courtroom.


James Cottle, after studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help... Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic plight for reform amongst the writing masses.