In These Words ... © copyright 2014 by Lillian Carrero
As an undergraduate my eldest daughter took a
screen writing class. As the designated nerd of my family everyone comes to me
to look over homework assignments. It was nice to see that my daughter thought
me nerdy enough to look over her stuff and even offer feedback. Personally I
have to say I found her screenwriting class fascinating. It was interesting to
learn that screenplays are written within the confine of a formulaic structure.
Initially I was disturbed by this
notion of a structure to screenwriting. I started to imagine constraints on
creativity. How can you just go where the story takes you without the risk of
deviation from the format? And is deviation from the format a bad thing? Are humans such predictable animals that we
can be spoon-fed formulaic fiction? At what point do I stop asking these inane
questions and get to the point? Was there ever a point beyond the obvious
rambling? Is rambling a bad thing?
Sadly, I now find it hard to watch a
movie without seeing the formula. Even sadder, the movies that do not stick to
the formula are usually not well received. The thing is I looked back on old
films to see if the formula was there all along. Mostly it was. And I have to
wonder if I loved the formula or the movie. There really is nothing new and
with or without the formula movies mostly take us to a place we’ve been before.
For me the journey is more pivotal than the formula.
Rehash (and that was rehash, not remake—remakes more often
than not inspire in me a desperate need for a vomit bag—of course there are
exceptions, but rule of thumb, try to always imagine that you are the rule and not the exception before you
set off to remake a movie) the same story, but give me an interesting journey
and I’ll watch. Again and again I’ll watch that interesting journey and mostly
I forget the formula, unless the journey fails the test of time.
Some things were not meant to endure.
It’s not just the lackluster of waiting to be digitally remastered. It really
is time. Years go by and strip away everything. Take for instant Christopher
Reeve’s Superman II; it’s as dated as I am. These days I look at that and
cringe a little, because it truly is a cardboard version of New York City in
some backlot. But back in the day I left the movie theater with the light of
day filling the sky above Time Square and I—looked
up in the sky.
Some movies were only meant to
resonate to an era and not go beyond that. Director Allen
Coulter’s Remember Me is kind of like
that. There is a moment in the film when the date is revealed to the audience
and I cried. But in a few generations will that moment be the same. Nothing can
diminish the performances of Robert Pattinson and Emilie de Ravin. Yes, Pattinson channeled James Dean and I thought kudos to him for being brave
enough to even go there. But only time
can tell us what will endure.
Endurance isn’t measured by the
formula, too many other things come into play: screenplay, directing, cinematography
and a million little things the audience never sees. What we see revolves
mostly around performance and I’ll admit I’m a sucker for pathos. I like the expressiveness in a face like
Robin Williams or Jim Carey or Steve Carell. I watch these faces and everything
around them rises to another level.
Comedians invariably understand the
nuances of drama and how it doesn’t juxtapose comedy, but becomes a blending of
the two forms. I was re-watching Dead
Poet’s Society for the umpteen time and wondered why of all the nameless
faces in the crowd of young actors—why Ethan Hawk? Why not all of them? What
was the secret that plucked one from obscurity and left the others behind?
Posthumous accolades mean something to the living; the dead don’t care.
But like film, people are tested by
time. I don’t stop traffic and to look at me now, I know you’ll find it hard to
believe that at one time I could, but I did more than once and now I don’t.
There is this movie I recently saw
with one of the actors mentioned above and it was okay, even with this kind of
visually unfinished quality. It even had some funny moments and then there was
the smashing of the wedding cake and the goat. You show as much disrespect as
humanly possible for another human being and everyone gets a good laugh. Yet,
I’m not laughing. I’m told it’s not my kind of humor or I’m too old to
understand. And I look for the formula to see if it deviated and find out if I
truly am a lemming and then I just lose interest because the movie wasn’t important
enough for me to care.
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