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.

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But for the past few years we weren’t receiving the needed amount of rain and headed toward a drought.  So I’m thankful for this storm.  But all I hear throughout the office is how terrible this weather is.  How awful it is out there.  How inconvenient the rain is.

So would they rather have this?

Because people were complaining how we didn’t get a lot of rain.  Either way, complainers can’t seem to be satisfied with anything.

Here’s a good one.  A lot of companies are going through layoffs.  Mine was no different.  But some of my coworkers complained how busy we were.  We were so busy that overtime was authorized.  I don’t know about them, but busy should equal job security.  I’m not a proponent of guarantees, but in a time when unemployment is higher than normal, you’d think they’d be glad it was busy.

I’m not saying I don’t complain.  I tend to do it in my head.  And once I’m done, I feel tight, angry, and depressed.  So I’ve become aware of it and do what I can to quiet my mind.  Sometimes, though, I whine like a baby.  In those cases, I either write a post, surf the web, workout, take a drive, listen to music, watch a good movie…you get the idea.

But a habitual conscious effort will replace a lot of complaining.  Because the best way to replace a habit is with another one.  Just don’t replace it with another bad one.  I’ve seen this before.  When people know their complaining doesn’t do anything, they take on addictive habits.  Like watching reality TV.  Sit at bars staring at the ladies and giving them the hibbie jibbies.  Or eat crap food.

Find what gives you joy.  True joy.  And do it.  You never know where it’ll lead.

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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.

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Ever heard this?

As a storyteller, this can be a very limiting view.  Or is it?

William Shakespeare’s version of Twilight

A prominent screenwriter in Hollywood, David Freeman, gave a seminar.  There are hundreds of seminars I could have attended, but why did I go to his?  If you go to his site, he talks about techniques in writing.  No theories.  In fact, he gave so many techniques, it was like getting a trunk full of tools.  And in any one job, it’s highly unlikely you’ll use all of them, but you’ll definitely use enough to make your story emotional, something he emphasizes a lot.

He agreed with the quote above, but in a very un-limiting way.

I love going to movies, and one of the pleasures is seeing the previews.  I hate missing the previews like I hate missing the beginning of any movie.  One movie I’m anticipating is Avatar.

When I first saw it, I thought, James Cameron stole my idea!  WTF Cameron?  How’d you hack into my PC?

As I watched the preview, his premise was different.  Similar but different.

Then an image sparked in my mind.  American Indians gazing out into the sea as English ships sailed toward them.

The story of the Native American Indians against pioneering pilgrims is a familiar one.  It’s empire building.  The conflict?  The natives don’t want to leave.

Look at Braveheart.  I love that movie.  It’s the same thing.

Look at the battle of Thermopile, 300.

Look at the Mongols invading China.

Look at China’s history of the seven independent states warring against each other for power.

Look at Star Wars.

Look at King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

We have tons of stories based on the idea of oppression.  Sometimes the story ends with unification, like China and the seven states.  Sometimes we have stories of independence, like William Wallace’s fight for Scotland’s freedom.  But they all stem from a single idea.

Avatar is no different.  A powerful force, in this case us in the far future, wants something, a valuable mineral.  To mine it, we have to “politically” move a native race.  Easy enough.  But wait!  The native people don’t wanna move.

And the story begins.

Freeman said there were an unlimited amount of stories that could be told using the story computer.  Look at any story that you love or connect to.  Find a variation.

Turn the hero into a heroin.

Change the race.

Change the time.

Change the setting.

Change anything.

Look at Romeo and Juliet.  Change the time to the present.  Make the male a brooding, James Dean-looking vampire.  Now you have Twilight.

The Princess and the Frog is a great example.  What do we expect to happen when the princess kisses the frog?  The frog should turn to her prince.  But Disney was like, “Hell no. Dat’s been dun.  Da princess should turn to a frog, sucka!”

OK.  I doubt Disney execs would talk like that.  But they used the story computer to churn out what seems like a great story.

The Seven Provinces is a familiar story.  It’s about empire building.  It’s an underdog story.  It’s about a man trying to protect his family in a time of war.  It’s about oppression, betrayal, tragedy.  And much more.

There may be nothing new under the sun.  But that doesn’t mean new stories can’t be told using familiar themes.

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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.”

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The story is basic.  A person get’s obsessed with coworker.  Coworker is happily married.  The obsessed obsessively obsesses over the coworker and chases after him.  Ali Larter plays the obsessed.  Idris Elba plays the loving husband.  But the obvious draw to the movie is Beyonce.  And because she’s a strong woman both in real life and in the movie, she takes care of business.  As expected she kicks Larter’s ass.  Might I say a very nice ass.  Overall, despite being predictive, it was  entertaining.

How is it a comedy?

One of the climatic scenes in the movie is when the wife is led to believe that her husband cheated on her.  Elba, who plays the loyal husband, denies, denies, denies.  And then he denies some more.  Even though we see the movie through the husband’s perspective, and he did everything to thwart Larter’s obsessive obsession, when Knowles accuses her husband of cheating, all of the women in the theater were like:

“You go girl!”

“Oh, hell naw.  He lyin’.  He lyin’!”

“Das right.  Take it to him, girl!”

One lady turn to her friend.  “Mm hmm.  He did it.  He cheated on Miss Knowles.”

I could not stop laughing.  As I said, I didn’t know I was in for a comedy.  The scene continued at home where Beyonce proceeded to kick her husband out.

“Das right.  Das your house.”

“Mm hmm.  Take control.  You deserve better.”

“Oh, girl.  Don’t listen to him.  He did it. Liar!”

The whole theater filled with catcalls and whoops, praising Beyonce for defending her womanhood.  I busted up laughing.  Not only because of the enthusiasm of the theater, which I suddenly felt to be the only guy in attendance.  But because the guy really didn’t do anything.  He actually made no moves, no actions, and wasn’t even tempted.  Still, the estrogen filled theater heckled him as if he committed the ultimate marital sin.

I felt compelled and yelled, “He didn’t do nothin’.”  Which of course fell on deaf ears.

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One day I was rummaging through a fantasy book store and came across The Neverending Story, by Michael Ende.  The book was first published in 1979 in German.  Ralph Manheim translated it to English.  I must have seen the movie dozens of times.  I loved the characters, I loved the story within the story, and I totally loved the soundtrack.  So when I saw the hardcover, I bought it.

For parents and children, this is totally appropriate.  It’s an allegory on life, and if you watch the movie with your kids, ask them what the movie means.  It’s the one thing that I don’t see parents doing is asking their kids what things mean to them.  Do it and you’ll be surprised by what you find out.

When I mentor students, I always ask what things mean, or how they feel about the experiences they’re going through.  It’s also my main tool in getting them to open up.  Eventually, they spill the beans about anything that I ask.  I need to know what they’re thinking, feeling in order to help them out.  Click here if you want to read more on talking to your children.

If you read to your kids, read The Neverending Story.  If not, then watch the movie.  Don’t have the money to rent movies, well the whole movie is on youtube:  Part 1.

While I was perusing youtube at work, don’t tell my boss, I came across the Karate Kid.  This is an interesting movie.  Not because of the awesome cat-like choreography.  To me the hero is interesting.

A normal underdog story goes something like this:  hero enters new world (town, school, wizard school), is overwhelmed by bad dude (love interest’s ex, bully, the most evilest powerfulest wizard), gets a gift (learns the way of love, learns how to fight, learns he’s a great wizard), and, voila, hero wins.

Most of the times, the bad buy is an actual bad guy.  Not in The Neverending Story or Karate Kid.  The antagonist is the hero’s disbelief in themselves.

When we look at Neverending, Bastian, the hero, must follow his inspiration, his love for books, fantasy, and story.  It isn’t until he fully gives in does he overcome the antagonist, self-doubt.  In Kid, Daniel must believe in himself.  He never got stronger, faster, or learned more karate then the bully.  The bully was never the obstacle, just the opportunity.  His teacher guided him to trust in his ability, to let go of his self-proclaimed weaknesses.  In doing so, Daniel prevailed, or what I like to term kicked ass.

I’ve always loved stories that have this undertone.  When I look at the characters I’ve written in my book, all of them at some level must deal with self-belief.  It’s the one thing I hone in on when I mentor people.   I use stories to open conversations with children, to guide them toward their passions in life, their truth.

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