Sunday, November 23, 2008

To Octopus. A new verb

There are hugs and there are Hugs.

There are the namby pamby air-hugs that ladies give each other insincerely to avoid intimacy and smudging their make up.

Then there are friendlier hugs of greeting, football player crushing hugs of congratulations after they win the game, and other shades of grey in between.

But there are those totally entwined hugs (both erotic and not) in which the participants so thoroughly intertwine their limbs (arms and legs, necks and torsos) that the place where the hugger and huggee begin and leave off are difficult to determine.

I think this deserves a better description than "hugging."

So, I've "verbized" yet another noun from "octopus" into "to octopus" meaning for two (or perhaps more) people to so totally entwine their limbs that the place where the hugger and the huggee begin and leave off are difficult to determine.

Examples: They octopussed and then fell asleep.
The two kittens were octopussed as they took a nap.
The teenagers were so octopussed, it was hard to tell how they could stand up. In fact, they toppled over onto the bed, still octopussed.

You're free to use the new verb provided you credit me. You can send money, too. I won't refuse.

And have fun octopussing.

Benjamin Button, F. Scott and Me

This is another one of those fish that got away stories, or more definitely a story of a story that got away. If you don't like those kind of stories, skip this.

F. Scott Fitzgerald penned a lovely, edgy, witty little ditty called The Curious Case of Benjamin Button during 1921 or so in which our protagonist (like Merlin the Magician) is born an old man who as he gets older becomes younger until finally his befuddled family must hide a pewling infant as, we imagine, he devolves into a sperm and ovum and then vanishes. It seemed a truly delicious way to dissect a lifetime and a milieu and a culture and humanity and how we relate to one another, by turning it all upsidedown.

Benjamin Button always seemed to me the perfect candidate for a movie adapation, but there were problems.

The main ones were that doing the special effects twenty-five years ago was no picnic. Getting a fellow to age backwards involved make-up and casting. You can age someone from, oh, their twenties to their nineties without much trouble. A few latex appliances, wigs and some grease paint, and there he is,  an old man! It's the youth part that is diffcult. You must find a succession of teenagers, children and tots who bear a spitting resemblance to the starring actor as young guy. I recall the agonies of the casting director for Superman I hunting for someone to play Christopher Reeve as a teenager, child and infant. They had hundreds of casting photos all over the office and kept putting them up on the wall until they had a succession of boys who looked like they were the same person growing up. Then they had to be available, negotiated for, and quickly filmed before they grew yet more adolescent or less infantile.

The other problem was that no one in Hollywood liked the idea. Or, more accurately, they thought I was nuts. This never stops me: the list of films that I've wanted to make that no one liked but that got made anyway is awfully long now (Benjamin Button being the latest among projects that go all the way to Herman Hesse's Steppenwolf and Siddhartha which my agents all shook their heads at), so I've persisted all these years muttering and pleading until, at last, I realized that David Fincher, whom I've never met, was going to fulfill my dream.

David's got it easy. He has a track record for offbeat, if not downright weird movies, and he has the magic of CG special effects to back him up. It's simply a breeze in 2008 to make someone get younger and old: you just use the computer to map the face of the actor onto someone elses, tickele a few pixels and Voila! the aged or infantilized Benjamin Button. I envy him in the most respectful way. It's not that it's being handed to him on a silver platter, it's just that he was the right guy in the right place at the right time. And you can do a period drama with period locations without spending millions on building a 1922 city. I haven't checked to see if it is being done as a period drama of if he's updated it to the 21st Century. I'd have done it as a Jazz Age piece. There's something so appealing and appalling about that. Some of you, by now, already know what it is or if you're reading this after the release date, absolutely know, but I'm still curious and wondering.

Brad Pitt, of course, didn't exist when I wanted to do this. Heaven knows whom we would have cast way back when if someone in The Black Tower at Universal had said "Yes," but it wouldn't have been Brad. I'm sure he'll do a fine job, and surely bring in the audience or "an audience" of some sort, more than an unknown would to a film with an edgy, science fictiony premise like this one.

I look forward to it. Of course, I'll be sitting in the theater muttering under my breath and cursing fate once again. One of these days, I'll get to do the movies of the books that I've dreamt of for decades. Or not.

Are you guys with big bucks out there listening? I've got a BIG LIST of great projects and so far, I'm batting a thousand on which ones get financed, just not on when.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Kitties and Movies

Cats have virtually no interest in being the first in the neighborhood to see the new hit movie.

Monday, September 08, 2008

The Coming Golden Age of Stereoscopic 3D Movies: A Revolution, or "Oh Grandpa, I don't want to see those dumb "flat" movies!"


For the past two weeks I've been kicking myself for never having published an essay about my plans for using IMAX as a vehicle for action feature-films over 20 years ago.

I had seen North of Superior, a 1971 IMAX film, in the original curved-screen theater on Ontario Place in Toronto. In that amazing moment when the tiny first image in the film expanded to the full six or seven story height of the screen, and it felt like the building was about to tip over, my vision of the future of the cinema was born.

I wanted to make a James Bond film in IMAX. All of the exposition scenes would have been in horizontal strips across the center of the big, square frame or, perhaps, in smaller, multi-screen sequences ala Charly or the Johnson's Wax film, To Be Alive, of the 1964 World's Fair. But when Bond took to the air, or launched a car chase, the huge screen would be filled with swooping action shots, all sixty or eighty vertigo inducing feet high.

Of course, it occurs to me now, I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want them to steal this incredible idea, so -- until this summer -- you've never really seen a motion picture before in quite this way.

But, somehow, Chris Nolan used some diabolic mind-reading device (this is the science fiction age, isn't it?) to suck this idea out of my brain when I was sleeping or drinking coffee in Zabars or at some other moment when my guard was down, and incorporated it into The Dark Knight: The Imax Experience (as the execs at IMAX like to call it). The entire opening bank-robbery sequence, the climax, and interspersed aerial shots of Hong Kong and other cities were shot in full-sized IMAX, but all those endless exposition scenes were left in normal widescreen format in the center of the frame.

Well, it is small comfort now to say that I was right and it works just great, exactly as I imagined it. But in the long-past interests of secrecy, I never published the notion, and my film producing career never deposited me in the catbird seat long enough to realize the dream, so it's victory served up cold. The Batman team did a great job, but, of course, I would have done it better -- and sooner -- if only someone had listened to me and handed me the money.

There were, come to think of it, real discussions with George Lucas and Gary Kurtz about doing The Empire Strikes Back in IMAX during 1977 Not only did I try to twist their arms to do it, but, Gary told me years later, IMAX had secretly approached them and begged them to do it. What stopped it from happening were the limitations of photomechanical special effects: they would have looked terrible blown up on a screen that big. There were so many photographic generations, that the grain levels would would have looked like dancing basketballs enlarged on the giant screen.

Well, enough sour grapes and regrets.

Here's my new prediction.

Having tried for nearly 8 years now to put together my two new top-secret IMAX films, the steepness of the slope toward that goal is painfully apparent. So, I won't reveal the secret films, but I will tell you what I see in my Movie Crystal Ball.

It's summed up in the sobriquet: "Oh Grandpa! I don't want to see those dumb flat movies!"

When I started putting together an IMAX-3D feature film nearly a decade ago, I envisioned the arrival of a new cinema, a stereoscopic, dimensional one.

The invention of holograms seemed to promise 3D movies with no glasses that could float in the air in front of an astonished audience, but despite Joseph Losey's announcements to the contrary in the mid-1970s, no technology to produce that has materialized beyond some tiny, optical-laboratory experiments that never panned out.

Let's be clear for a moment. The term "3D" has been co-opted by graphic artists. The term has come to be used to refer to graphics that have a "round," rendered look. This is the "look" of WALL-E or The Incredibles or any of dozens of PIXAR animated films or the CG (computer graphic) rendered special effects in live-action films produced by Industrial Light and Magic.

But it was originally coined to designate movies or images that had true, stereoscopic, in-depth, pop-out-of-the-screen images viewed, usually, with either Polaroid or anaglyph (red/green) glasses. I've been calling this sort of three-dimensional movie S-3D or 3D-S to differentiate it from the diluted 3D term in common use for video-games. It's just possible, however, that over a period of several years -- if stereoscopic 3D becomes pervasive -- that kids will simply substitute 3D for the "new" stereoscopic version without missing a beat. But I'm guessing that a newer term will take root.

There have been several previous historic eras of stereoscopic photography. One lasted from the late 19th Century into the early 20th Century and was composed of "stereopticon slides" seen in a special hand-held viewer. There were some experimental 3D movies as early as 1894, but they were few an far between. In the 1930's there was minor upsurge in anaglyph 3D short-subjects shown as novelties using red/green glasses. In the 1950's, however, there was a serious "second-wave" of 3D pioneered by Arch Oboloer's Bwana Devil, a twin-projector, polaroid glasses feature-film thriller that sold out theaters and kicked off a two year frenzy of 3D movies that fizzled out just as Alfred Hitchcock's brilliant Dial M for Murder hit the screens. Let's call thsi the "First Golden Age of 3D Movies."

The "Second Golden Age" dribbles into existance from Arch Oboler's The Bubble (1966), Andy Warhol's Frankenstein (1973) and really takes root through the late 70-s and early 80s with a seemingly endless series of Grade-Z horror and western films all of which used what is call "over and under" single-projector 3D projection. This wave ended rather more abruptly than it started.

Around the same time and in parallel, the original IMAX corporation developed a15x70mm two-camera 3D process which was and still is the most stunning presentation of moving stereoscopic images that we have today. However, these films were almost exclusively travelogues and science-related films, not dramas or deliberate forms of escapist entertainment.

The late 1990s saw the development of a new variation on 3D projection that utilizes a digital projector and an LCD screen to project alternating left eye / right eye images that are viewed through special circularly polarized glasses (that make it possible to tilt your head without losing the 3D effect). Walt Disney Pictures has embraced this technology and has released several films (Chicken Little, Hannah Montana, Meet The Robinsons, and others) using a version similar to the Real-D system.

Not to be left out, Dolby has developed a reliable, non-polaroid method that utilizes incremental differences in the frequency of color light which is much brighter and clearer than the Polaroid methods.

So here is my prediction and, hopefully, you've read it here first.

We are on the eve of the Third Golden Age of Stereoscopic Movies. This one, I believe, will be nearly permanent, and I've even gone so far as to predict that 30% of all new movies in the next few years will be produced in stereoscopic 3D. And eventually, ALL movies (and television) will be in 3D as well.

The crucial factor is the roll out of the infra-structure. There must be enough theaters capable of showing stereoscopic 3D for the studios to make money from it. The final obstacles to digital projection in commercial theaters are crumbling and it's likely that the majority of non-museum movie theaters will be converted to digital by 2015.

What's required here is the "3D Blockbuster." This must be the equivalent of The Jazz Singer in 1927-28. It was the first successful sound film (not the first sound film). It was the one that brought audiences to the theater and established synchronized sound as THE way to show movies. (Grandpa, I don't want to see those "silent" movies.) By the early 1950s color film had established itself, and black and white had largely vanished as a motion picture (or television form) by the 1980s. (Oh Grandpa! I hate those black and white movies!). In the 1970s, the desire to see Star Wars with stereophonic sound forced theaters to install Dolby Stereo systems by the thousands and established Dolby as the sine-qua-non of motion picture sound.

The result must be a critical mass of theaters capable of showing digital, stereoscopic 3D with stereophonic sound. How many theaters is this? There are an estimated 40,000 movie theaters in the United States. Perhaps there are triple that number in the whole world. I can only guess that it must be 1500 or more. That bears some resemblance to the early installed base of Dolby Sound capable theaters in the 1970s.

So where are we in 2008? Well, almost every multi-plex movie theater has at least one digital projector, and hundreds of them have the LCD panel necessary to show 3D, and more of those theaters are going online everyday. Various conversion projects are announced that promise thousands of 3D equipped theaters by Spring of 2009.

Now we need the "Blockbuster." There are two main candidates. Avatar and Star Wars.

Star Wars? Yes. As I type away here, Real-D is slaving mightily converting all six Star Wars movies to stereoscopic 3D. There is a computerized process that automates this, and the results (visible in the converted 3D version of The Nightmare Before Christmas released two years go) are stunning. Knowing the Lucasfilm perfectionism, this will the the ultimate in 3D conversions. Make no mistake, this is high-quality: Much better than mere cutting edge "colorization" of black and white movies.

When the first of the 3D Star Wars hit screens in, purportedly, Spring of 2009, every theater in the world will want to participate in this license to print money. There is no doubt that the promise of this goldrush will push reluctant venues to convert to digital so that they don't miss out. There was talk of having the 3D Star Wars released in 2008, but, clearly, this has been moved back because not enough venues were on board.

And then there is Avatar. James Cameron of Terminator and Titanic fame has, apparently, like me, dreamt of doing a 3D movie for much of his life, and Avatar is it. At 300 million plus dollars, it will be not only the most expensive 3D movie ever made, but also the most expensive movie of any kind.

According to the IMDB, Avatar is "the story of a wounded ex-marine, thrust unwillingly into an effort to settle and exploit an exotic planet rich in bio-diversity, who eventually crosses over to lead the indigenous race in a battle for survival" Hmmm.... could be kewl. Given how expensive it is, it had better be very kewl. We'll find out in December of 2009, all things being equal.

It goes without saying that eventually Steven Spielberg will want to make a 3D movie. The animated TinTin (now in production) is touted as being that, but Steve will want to do a live-action film, his own Creature from the Black Lagoon or It Came From Outer Space.

Everyone in Hollywood, eventually, from Peter Jackson to George Lucas will want to get in on the action. And that, I'm suggesting, will form the basis of the "Third Golden Age of 3D.

Only this time, I think it will stay with us.

There are already patents filed for 3D television sets. I did my own developmental work on a lenticular system, but others have already built prototypes of similar systems that are operating on the streets of Germany right this minute. I've seen them demonstrated, and they are, though crude, very impressive. Spielberg himself has invested in a 3D-TV system of unknown design.

There's the sequence, then:
- Critical mass of 3D capable theaters
- The 3D Blockbuster
- Follow-up and copy-cat movies
- A home-television based aftermarket.

All of these elements are in the works and, barring unforeseen events, will come to pass on a discernable schedule.

"Awww Grandpa! Do we have to see that flat movie? I hate flatties."

"No Dear. You don't. Grandpa is just finishing up converting Citizen Kane to 3D for you. And we're doing Gone With the Wind and Casablanca next month."

And, let me tell you, the tools for Grandpa to do that already exist. I predict that the 3D handwriting is on the wall, and I guess I just wanted the satisfaction of -- at least once -- having a prediction like this in print before it happens. Then I can say, with impunity, "I told you so."

It's not as good as being able to do it myself, but then, if Cameron's movie does well, someone who reads this will come to me and give me my big chance.

I'm here and waiting!

And, of course, when the Hologram revolution finally arrives in 10 or 20 years, when some physicist finally works out a way to mould and bend light waves without benefit of a screen, the next Golden Age will begin. Maybe some of us will be there to witness it all as this pattern repeats itself once again.

WALL-E. Some film-making reflections.


By now you've either seen WALL-E or read something about the film (or WALL-E himself). Much has been made of the story-telling style of this unexpectedly remarkable film, so it might be worth swinging the flashlight around and attempting to illuminate another part of the picture.

It's facile to say that WALL-E is an homage to, say, Charlie Chaplin since no characters say much of anything until 40 minutes or so into the 98 minute movie. It's a bit more than a Chaplin homage, I'd venture: Motion Pictures as a form had no synchronous dialogue to speak of from the inception of movies in 1894 until 1928 or so. Deprived of "spoken" dialogue, thousands and thousands of films found a way to tell stories through body language, motion, facial expressions, editing, intertitles and the Stanton and Reardon screenplay is absolutely in the classic tradition of the so-called silent era. You have to watch the movie to tell what's happening. This is not illustrated radio (in the way that most modern television shows are which enable you to know what's happening even if you're in the other room cooking dinner and can't see the TV set). This is true "visual" story-telling.

What's stunning about this simple and quietly touching little fable (if one can stretch the definition of "fable" to include robots along with anthropomorphic animals) is the economy and richness of the script. There's hardly any wasted motion here, no fat in the meat, as it were. A second viewing reveals how wonderfully a detail pays off at the end. For example, each and every one of the "mad" robots released by the blast from EVE's disconnected arm plays a specific (and comic) part in the final chase scene. Rich in forwshadowing, the storyline shades in character, emotion, motivation all through tiny details: WALL-E's collection of his favorite garbage, the spare parts library, a tilt of his eyepods or twist of a mechanical wrist, and ultimately the precious videotape of Hello Dolly.

WALL-E himself is something of a simpleton, as one might expect from a robot intended to compress garbage, yet it's that incremental step up from "mechanical device" to "lonely being" that slides unnoticed past our critical inclinations that makes this whole thing work. The "acting" of what is literally a box-shaped garbage scoop on tank treads is amazing. Reduced to minimal cues to emotion, the animators have been forced to express character through the simplest forms of mime. Marcel Marceau would have been proud of them.

Nothing more than "boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back again" in schematic construction, the plot is woven intricately with the sort of science fiction detail that has -- until now -- been nearly impossible to create on the motion picture screen. I found myself thinking that the late Robert Sheckley, a seminal writer of speculative fiction in the 1940s and 50s would have loved this film. His stories were, twice, made into films (Freejack and The 10th Victim), but without the richness of modern CG graphics. One evening, about a year ago, I found myself watching an aerial shot of dozens of sailing ships gliding an 18th Century Harbor in Pirates of the Caribbean and realizing in that moment that virtually anything we can think of can now be shown on the huge motion picture screen in dazzling detail (soon to be followed by the same thing in stunning stereoscopic 3D). Now, here's WALL-E, the quintessential 1940's science fiction story fully realized in awesome reality 30 or 40 feet high in full color. [It breaks my heart that Ray Bradbury and I will never have the chance to bring The Martian Chronicles to the screen (as it should have been long ago) using this technology to re-create the retro-science fiction vision of the book. But that's a topic for another time.]

Few modern films have the simple, direct originality of WALL-E's screenplay. It has become de-rigeur to overload films with sizzle and flash and to leave the meat in the refrigerator. Young directors and editors, intoxicated with AVID and other non-linear editing systems, overdose with two-frame jump cuts simply because it's so easy to do so, and ignore the needs of telling a good story clearly. Not so here. This film plays out with effortless clarity. This has inexpicably become a nearly lost art. Somehow Hollywood has allowed its current product to become synonymous with "expensive computer graphics." Even the wonderful Star Wars series has gotten a bit too cozy with the aesthetics of computer games instead of the stories of DeMaupassant and perhaps this has led American filmmaking closer and closer to the slippery slope of entertainment based solely upon spectacle.

This, like the movie, is an essay theme worth re-visiting. Fine pieces of jewelry invite the owner to pick them up, turn them in the light, and discover new beauty over and over again.

In the end, WALL-E transcends its own technique and its very origins in digital bits and fractal equations. It's a softly whispered tale of loneliness, dreams, and loss. But most of all, it is a story of hope. Hope for the future, hope for mankind, hope for friendship and companionship, hope for the warm loving touch of a hard, cold mechanical hand.

And in the stunning climactic moment when the technological equivalent of fingers intertwine with passion and life, no words can express the fullness of the relationship between a square, clanking robot and a shining, white, flying egg with arms, and the promise that we, too, will survive our own pollution, technology and human follies with hearts -- filled like theirs -- with love.

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Cultural Patriotism

Cultural Patriotism is the patriotic support of your country through culture and art.

What better route to international progress?

KinDzaDza You-Tubed

KinDzaDza has been YouTubed.

This is not the ideal way to see this film. But it may be the only way at the moment.

KinDzaDza Part One

Saturday, August 30, 2008