One of my top five movies is The Karate Kid, 1984, starring Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita. Ralph played the unconfident Daniel Larusso, and Pat played Kesuke Miyagi, Mr. Miyagi.  It’s one of the coolest stories because it’s aboutbelieving in yourself.

Both at the time were relative unknowns. Macchio had only acted professionally, according to IMDb, since the early 80′s. Morita had been acting since the 60′s, possibly earlier.  I do remember him as Al in the sitcom Happy Days. Mr. Miyagi was his role to play, and from the DVD extras, the voice and mannerisms came to him instantly. A sign of this was his nomination as best supporting actor both in the Academy and Golden Globe awards.

When I first heard they were remaking this, I cringed. Then I heard Jaden Smith, Will Smith’s son was starring in it.  I felt Smith was grooming his son to follow in his stardom, which is fine. And I think it worked.

Honestly, I wasn’t going to watch this.  I loved the original too much, but then I told myself, “I gotsa support my Asian brothah, Jackie Chan!”  If that were true, then I would have watched The Spy Next Door.

I’ve always been a proponent of knowing why you like certain things, and The Karate Kid, 1984 was one. I’ve watched the movie dozens upon dozens of times.  Analyzed it as much as I could. And my most favorite part about the story is the relationship between the student and teacher. The relationship has a rocky start since Mr. Miyagi is cold and distant in the beginning. But as Daniel’s needs become apparent, Mr. Miyagi makes the reluctant decision to teach him, putting him through day-long chores, which are really karate lessons. You can feel that their relationship is real.

Remember “Wax on, wax off”?

The newly released version replaces Daniel with Dre, played by Smith, and Mr. Miyagi with Mr. Han, played by Chan.

The feel of an intimate relationship is what’s missing from The Karate Kid, 2010. Both Smith and Chan act well, but their relationship never blossoms. We see there is supposed to be a connection when Mr. Han gently pats a snoozing Dre, or when Dre realizes that taking his jacket off, throwing it on the ground, picking it up, putting it back on a thousand times is a karate lesson…I mean a kung fu lesson.  But I’m writing about The Karate Kid. Ah…huh…anyways…

The awe, the holy crap I am learning karate…argh…I mean kung fu…wasn’t totally realized. And it’s in that moment, in the original, is where their relationship solidifies from mere student/teacher…

to mentor/believer…

and moves on to BFFs…

Another problem I had with the movie was personal.  I’ve seen the original too many times.  I know it too well.  And they really didn’t do anything new with the story.  Well…there’s new names, new actors, better martial arts choreography, and two big names playing the main parts, and China, but that’s it.  It wasn’t really a remake as much of a regurgitate.

A lot of the dialogue mirrored/copied the original.  The story structure and plot mirrored/copied the original.  There was a moment in the movie where I told myself, here comes the humanizing of Mr. Han, jokingly.  Then that scene came when Mr. Han shows Dre, and the audience, that he’s human.  I often found myself comparing the two movies.  And I don’t think I would have had the dialogue, scenes, and when they happened didn’t mirror/copy the original so closely.

One last thing.  Macchio played the role well, swimming in and out of self-realization and fear.  In the last climatic fight, Daniel-san’s leg was kicked, rendering unusable, and Macchio sold it.  When the same thing happens to Dre, Smith doesn’t sell the injury at all, walking as if he stubbed his toe.  Despite acting well, Smith didn’t have opposing sides of fear and self-realization, something that would have given the character dimension.

“[Is] unacting acting, or acting unacting…” -Bruce Lee

Objectively, the movie worked, albeit without the relationship. The audience cheered the ending.  Most were too young to have seen the original.  It’s one thing to remain faithful to the original, like translating comic books to the silver screen.  It’s another to copy the original.

I just saw Fame, the 2009 version.  I never saw Fame, the 1980 version.  I should since it won two Oscars.  And I’m not one of those people who watches only Oscar winners, but the 2009 version got bad reviews.  And I know why.

In the 2009 version, we have a cross section of characters that are admitted to Performance Arts High School.  Clever name.  In this cross section, we have freshmen who deal with issues with shyness, self worth, preconceived ideas from parental figures, grades that lead to being expelled, and people in the industry who’ve scammed money.

This seems like a lot but a lot of stories have this many sub plots that help drive the main story line.  Problem here is I’m not sure what the main story line is, and these play like sub plots with no main plot.  You could also say they are all main plots but that would be too many.

The second problem is we move from admission to graduation in a period of 107 minutes.  I’m not saying this can’t be done, but when you have many sub plots with no main plot, or a whole bouquet of main plots, it’s going to be difficult to develop these characters.  Hell!  It’d be difficult with just a single character.  Again, it can be done, but you better be one helluva screenwriter.  The issue here is no character development.  Here’s an example:

There’s a character named Malik who runs into the problem of parental limitation.  His mom says he ain’t all that.  Not in those exact words, but it’s a good problem.  We’ve all at some level–friends or family–have been told we ain’t all dat.  Is any of it true?  Of course not.  But the movie doesn’t show Malik overcoming that issue, finding that he’s special, then realizing he is truly talented.

What if he wasn’t?  The movie doesn’t show that either.

So is the message of the movie saying that none of us are special (not in the yellow bus way)?  No because the movie is called Fame.

So what’s the message?  Not quite sure.

Throughout the whole movie we get performances that are well choreographed.  There must have been a dozen.  To take up 107 minutes with that many performances ruins the pacing and doesn’t spend enough moments on what is truly important, the story.  It’s like having a ton of special effects with no substance.

We go from admission to graduation, and, in doing so, the characters who are faced with character arc problems either don’t solve them, or we don’t see them solved, or are not solved.  One ballet dancer is told he won’t make it by his teacher, told that he might be a decent teacher.  He believes her, submitting to becoming a ballet teacher.  So does the teacher see herself as a failure?  Then why is she teaching?  As the term character arc states, there’s an arc.  We basically go from beginning, miss the keystone moment and BAM!  We’ve arrive at the end.  And we’re not sure why.

One of my favorite critics is Roger Ebert.  I’ve watched his show Siskel and Ebert, a TV movie review show that made the two thumbs up famous.

On hissite, he had reviewed a movie call The Girlfriend Experience. In meandering around Neflix, I had come across this movie that stars Sasha Grey, directed by Steven Soderbergh, director of the Ocean’s Eleven movies, The Informant starring Matt Damon, just to name a few.

GFE is filled with unknown actors except for one, Sasha Grey. She is a porn star. Don’t ask me how I know this. I just happen to be really smart. Ahem. GFE is an actual term used by escorts who give the girl friend experience. They usually charge by the hour or clients can arrange overnight stays, which seemed to be Chelsea’s (Grey) bread and butter.

According to Ebert’s research on IMDb, Grey has starred in 161 adult films, and she now has her own company managing other girls. I’ve done no research into Grey.  That is a lot of movies.  I know guys who haven’t had sex that many times.

For Soderbergh to choose a woman who has sex for money to play a woman who has sex for money seems obvious. But why choose Grey? Mainly because of who she is and the depth she carries. Further proof of depth was revealed when she listed her top five movies on Current’s Rotten Tomatoes show.  I’ve heard none of those movies because most of them were foreign films.  Her explanation of why she chose them indicates her depth.

Porn stars are not known for their acting ability, nor are they even required to. And for a woman who I think would have thick skin, Grey plays Chelsey with a level of sensitivity and vulnerability.

The movie takes place during the 2008 presidential election, follows her through several of her transactions, while following her boyfriend’s as well. He’s a personal trainer who’s trying to get a clothing line up and explores more lucrative job opportunities.  Chelsey’s clients talk mainly about the downed economy, telling her what she should do with her money.  I couldn’t help thinking how we’re all selling a part of ourselves. Chelsey may be selling her body, but how many of us work in meaningless jobs, selling parts of our souls.

The character arch seemed to be a tragic one. We’re lead to believe that she is special, that she’s the creme of the crop in the escort industry. But as the film moves along Chelsey realizes that she’s not. A bit depressing since we get the same sense that her clients are also nothing special despite their wealth. Chelsey is expensive.

I liked the movie. It’s was an experimental film by Soderbergh. Did I need to see it? I guess so, having watched it.

Now here’s a question:

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There’s only two ways to Kick Ass, the movie.  The high road.  Or the low road.

Let’s take the high road since that’s gonna be short and not so sweet.  Having an 11 year-old girl kill endless mob men with red hot knife through butter ease is horrific, gruesome, grotesque, highly unnecessary, and just freakin’ stupid.  Something like this would never happen in real life.  Her acrobatics makes Jackie Chan look like a first grader.

Well…that wasn’t all that fun.

When I see a movie with the word “Kick Ass” as it’s title, I have a slight feeling, an inkling that this movie isn’t going to delve into the meaning of life.  That’s what my woman’s intuition is telling me.  This movie is about escaping the real world, whatever that may be for you, and having fun.  It’s pure fun.  It’s entertaining.  And the writing is pretty damn good.

One of the screenwriters was Jane Goldman who took the screenwriting class fromDavid Freeman.And one of the main things he emphasizes is surprises, to not write cliches.  So one of the things I expected was Kick-Ass, played by Aaron Johnson, to literally kick ass.  But like any real person who tries to fight bad dudes who has no fighting skill, no athletic ability, no fitness of any kind will get their ass kicked.  And that surprised me.  He didn’t get bit by no spider and, bam, he has super powers.

I also didn’t expect an 11 year-old girl, aptly named Hit Girl, to literally kick ass.  And she did.  It was also nice to see that she wasn’t written to have any kind of remorse.  Nor did the movie explain why.  It didn’t need to.  It would have taken away from the comedic carnage that she commits.  She’s a highly trained killer who could probably take on many Jackie Chans.  Chloe Moretz’s presence slid off the screen.  I think she made the part and even stole the show.

Another thing that was cool was Nicholas Cage, playing the role of Big Daddy.  His whole thing is vengeance.  But he teaches his daughter how to kill through love and adoration as if he was teaching her how to paint a Monet.  He doesn’t teach her with anger, to punish those who took away his love.  And that’s different.

I had seen several critics take the high road.  And I’m thinking, “Are you serious?”  Apparently, yes.

When the main character is named Kick-Ass, aided by Hit Girl and Big Daddy, and the kid who made McLovin from Hawaii famous plays one of the bad guys called Red Mist, you can’t take this movie too serious.  Or else you won’t have fun.

Anthony Hopkins is an Academy Award winner. Benicio Del Toro is an Academy Award winner. Emily Blunt is a Golden Globe winner. Hugo Weaving is an AFI Award winner. Director Joe Johnson is an Academy Award winner.

When they were brought together to make The Wolfman, given the technology today, it should have been one great remake.

Somehow the story was devoured. Put in place was a lot of shock value. Hey, here’s a really fast werewolf. Ooh, captivating. A damsel in distress.  Holy cow crap, Batman!  How about some gruesome murders. Ah, can’t call it a remake without reusing blood gushing murders. How unexpected. Needed? Yes. But it wasn’t done creatively. It’s one thing to be predictable. It’s another thing to know what’ll happen at the beginning of the movie.

The special effects were not over used.  A positive.

Netflix. Man do I love Neflix. Want to get rid of your cable bill? Get Netflix. It has TV shows, movies, DVDs, Bluray, and a lot of the content can be streamed online.

As I was browsing, I’d run across Dexter. The hero is a serial killer who kills serial killers.  And he’s likable.  You’ll find yourself rooting for him. I haven’t read the novel it’s based on, but once I watched the first show, I was hooked. I don’t like horror much but watch it on occasion.

One thing Dexter has very little of is shock value. But the tension and conflict is high in each episode. And it’s not predictable. For the most part anyway. The episodic stories and the overall story of Dex was amazing. There were story lines that ran the length of the season, and, more importantly, story lines that ran the length of each episode. Amazingly, it all coalesced together nicely, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

Each character is wondefully flushed out. Each one has their own goals, strengths, and issues. The backstory for each character is spread over each episode, and the season. And the growth, or deterioation, was well done.

Then, when I found out the first season was based on the book, Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay, I was ecstatic.  Somehow, within me, I was hoping it was based on the book.  The storyline just worked so well for me.  Every plot element circled on itself, playing an essential part to the story.  Shouldn’t that be the case?  Or else why not just eliminate it since it doesn’t serve the story or plot?

But The Wolfman was missing the essential element of story.  And the plot, though obvious, tried to circle back, but it just wasn’t done well.  I wasn’t rooting for any of the characters, nor did I care for any of them.  In fact, if the damsel was the werewolf who caused the initial murders, it might have been a better movie.

Maybe Dexter should go after the Wolfman.

Dead eye.  One of the biggest things I notice about all CGI movies are theeyes. They’re dead.

James Cameron has solved that by using motion capture to specifically record the actors’ emotions from the eyes.

But I’m not here to talk about how he made it.  Mostly because it’s beyond me.  I only understand the reasoning behind it like solving dead eye.  Sounds like a disease.

So here’s a list of what I truly loved about the movie as a whole:

• No over usage of CGI as a replacement for story.
• No over usage of 3-D.  In acting there’s a fourth wall, the wall removed so the audience can watch.  Rule is to never break the fourth wall.  But many 3-D movies do because it’s 3-D.
• All of the actors did an incredible job.
• It didn’t feel very heavily directed.
• Clear plot, clear themes, clear characters types.
• And most important of all, there was a good story.

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I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been so obsessed with story and writing for the past few years, but there were some parts that were predictable, only because the story required it.  Certain key supporting characters died, certain story elements had to happen to drive the plot, the theme and climax. The ending was definitely predictable, and I mean the ending after the climax.  But what was strange was I wanted that ending.  I desired it myself.  And I know why.  Cameron made it important, subtly.

Spoiler alert:

Jake Sully is a paralyzed war veteran.  Without saying it or making such a big deal about it, he wants his legs back.  When he takes over his avatar, he runs out into the open with pure joy.  He’s laughing, yelling, and sprinting, then he takes a moment and digs his toes into the dirt.  That tiny scene was aforever moment.

At that point I was certain Sully was going to be permanently place in his avatar body.  I knew it before I watched the movie.  When it happened it was wholly satisfying like eating a warm chocolate cookie.  There were little things like the digging toes in that emphasized the need for that ending. It really speaks to how Cameron doesn’t over do things like using the technology both given to him, and invented by him.  He’s a storyteller at heart, knowing how to use little things to make certain story elements big.

I’ve experimented with that in writing myepisodes.

Trying to make something big by making it a big deal is a big big mistake.  In one of the writing seminars the teacher made fun of beginner writers when they write about the first serendipitous moment between two lovers.  Paraphrasing here:

“The world stopped as I gazed into her eyes. The ticking of my watch slowed and the flakes of the first snowfall hung in the air.  The hustle of the streets silenced and I felt my heartbeat yearn to feel hers.”

I must admit, when I first heard that I wanted to rush to my manuscript and make sure I didn’t do something similar.

The whole point here is that James Cameron played it well when he told his story.  I didn’t feel overwhelmed by the technology.  I didn’t feel overwhelmed by the directing.  Another words, I didn’t feel his hands in the movie (an example would be the first three episodes of Star Wars).  The actors were awesome. For example, Sigourney Weaver’s character as the dedicated scientist didn’t play up to stereotype.  Sam Worthington’s performance as Jake Sully felt relaxed, which contrasted well to his avatar character (nicely done, communicating a message).  There was a scene where he watched his brother’s cremation, which felt false.  But at least it wasn’t forced like having flashbacks.  And it was OK being false, since it was a small scene, despite requiring to be emotionally heavy.

Avatar is what storytelling should be like, whether computer imaging is involved or not.  I left the theater totally uplifted and inspired and still feel the same as I type these words.  I can’t wait for the sequels.

When it comes to critics I turn a blind eye.  If you can’t do, critique.

When I studied acting, my teacher didn’t really enjoy going to plays.  She went, but not very often.  And it wasn’t because she hated plays.  She loved them.  She’s worked with American greats like Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller, and several members of New York City’s Group Theater.  But her work, her job analyzing students, whether they were acting well or not, had become second nature.  An example, one scene I did required me to enter the stage.

As I walked on, she said in her frog like voice, “Jimmy. What are you doing?”

“What?  I didn’t even say anything, yet,” I said.

“You didn’t have to.  Your energy wasn’t there.  You weren’t present.”

She was right.  It was one of the coolest things that I remember about her.

So when she goes to theatrical performances, she can’t help but analyze everyone’s performances.

When I go to movies, watch TV or plays, read books, or listen to a story, I can’t help but see certain techniques used to create emotion, depth, the setup, etc.  I can, however, turn it off.  That’s how good I am.  Or maybe that’s how incompetent I am.

Before I went to see Blind Side, starring Sandra Bullock and Quinton Aaron, I saw the viewers’ reviews on Fandango.  It had a green cartoon bubble with a plus sign inside, meaning, go see this movie unless you’re a loser.  Not wanting to be a loser, I went to see it.  One of the things I noticed, just off handedly, there weren’t a lot of disaster.  I caught myself looking for it.It seemed pollyannaish.

I think what saved the movie, aside from being heartwarming, is thehumor.It’s not Will Ferrell kind of humor.  That can and does get annoying.  Absurdity upon absurdity isn’t absurd anymore.  It’s kinda like trying to find a black dot on a black screen.  It was the kind of humor that helps contrast Bullock’s confidence and Aaron’s low key performance.

Even though this movie broke a huge rule in compelling story telling, it worked for the general audience.  Because no matter what a professional critic may say, it’s the fans that determines the success of any work.

In saying that, reading what professional critics say can teach any storyteller some intricacies of the art, especially when they begin to say the same thing over and over again.  If, however, the list of complaints is so varied, then it is just their ownopinions.And we know what that smells like.

There’s a certain satisfaction when I see Hollywood going to books for inspiration for studio production.  Lord of the Rings brings a certain beauty and grit to the silver screen.  The same director, Peter Jackson, did a remake of King Kong, a movie I have on DVD.  I don’t buy DVD’s on the fly, only the ones that I connect to.

His next movie to be released is Lovely Bones, based on the book of the same name by Alice Sebold.

I have the book.  After reading several chapters, I had to stop.  Not because it wasn’t good because it was.  As I read I could tell I was nearing the infamous part where the girl meets her violent death.  It’s something very difficult for me to read through.  So I stopped.

OnYahoo.comthere was a post that talked about Jackson’s production and how the reviews were not good.  The main complaint it seems was the emotion and the cruel reality of the murder was missing:

“Gone is the dismembered body part that alerts the family to Susie’s fate. Gone is her anguished mother’s adulterous affair with the detective who leads the case. Gone is all mention of what really transpired in that lonely 1970s cornfield.”

According to the article, Jackson was tyring to get a PG-13 rating.  If this is true, why?

I’m not saying kids shouldn’t see this.  They should, if they want.  But this subject matter deserves an R rating.  Again, not from a prohibition standpoint.  But from a subject matter standpoint.  I know the movie industry is a business.  It’s also an artistic medium.

Look at the Matrix movies.  All of them carries an R rating.  From a subject point of view, it’s a war.  And yes, I know Star Wars has a PG rating, but clearly that was child’s play.  Matrix and Lovely Bones are not.  There’s a certain level of grit that exists in the way those stories are told that Star Wars is missing.  A good indication are the stormtroopers in the white clad armor.

There’s little that I would prohibit a child to see or learn.  That is not my standpoint here.  But Lovely Bones the movie deserves an R rating out of respect for its art and subject.

I saw Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. And with the slew of good to raving reviews that are out there, I’m not going to add to it.  Now, for you Potter fans, I’m not here to say how good or bad it is.  I love stories and always ask myself why I like certain stories in comparison to why I don’t.

I liked this one, based on Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts.

J.K. Rowling has said in many interviews that the books would get darker, and this one, with the death of a main character, is definitely dark.

One other series I’ve been obsessed with are the Matrix movies.  The first one was a sleeper hit.  Every one loved it, critics and fans.  But once the sequels hit theaters, despite its financial success, not many really liked them.

And I think I know why.

With both Potter and Matrix sequels going toward dark, why did one do and feel well, while the other just felt monotone?

Humor.

The sixth movie had enough humor to bring the laughs all the way up to the climax.  The climax was the darkest part of the whole movie, so the laughs ended.  Makes sense.

Matrix had humor and sarcasm.  There were also different types of characters. One wished they didn’t take the red pill, another would pimp out a virtual girl, then there was one guy half black, half Asian who was enthusiastic, etc.  Those characters contrasted the war that was going on.

With both the Matrix sequels, there was no humor at all, no characters with color.  That’s why to me it felt monotone.  People will say that Neo and his crew were fighting a losing war.  But Harry and crew are fighting what seems to be a losing war, too.

Laughs.

Now the question becomes why laughs are needed in a dark movie?

I was talking to a coworker who is an avid churchgoer.  We were talking about perspectives on life, and I asked him what he thought about the world.  His response was this is a fallen world.  Then I told him mine, which of course is prettyPollyanish.

He countered with, “Then why is there so much suffering in this world?”

I imagined him and his choir of religious heathens eating this fallen view of the world and answered, “Because in order to have light, you must have dark.”

I personally don’t like it but understand the philosophical side.

In story, humor is not just a good release of tension.  It also contrasts the dark, making the dark darker when the dark comes.  As the story works toward its dark climax, we feel even darker as the dark falls upon us.  Which is the exact purpose of the sixth Potter movie.

Transformers, more than meets the eyes. Transformers, robots in disguise.

I loved that show. The cartoon movie after the original TV show ended got critical acclaim. Watch it. You’ll see why.

I love movies. I’ll watch anything from mindless blockbusters to sappy, chick movies.

But here’s the thing. I’ve listened to teachers of story, and those who teach writers of screenplays state one truth: The talent out there is amazing.

Really?

Sam Witwicky is the main character. His character arc is…wait for it…wait for it…committing and saying he loves Megan Fox. I understand not making yourself totally available to a girl, but common!

Then for him to be able to vow his love to this girl 20 million tons of robots have to fight eah other, military soldiers die, a famed Autobot dies, attempted assassination on his life, and being brought back to life from the brink of death.

Huh?

None of the other characters go through any change. Am I missing something? Well the girl vows her love, too. And, yes, I enjoyed it as entertainment.

But shouldn’t that be a subplot?

Now, I’m not a screenwriter, nor do I have an interest in it, but I think there’s still room for great screenwriters. As the saying goes, “There’s always room at the top.”