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Michael Kinsley has an excellent article in Time about the editor/writer dynamic at publications. He sides with the writer.

Writers, [editors] say, are whiny, self-indulgent creatures who spend too much time alone. They are egotistical, paranoid and almost always seriously dehydrated. Above all, they are spectacular ingrates. Editors save their asses, and writers do nothing but bitch about it.

It’s absolutely strange to watch the transformation of someone from staff writer to editor. Everyone who goes through it experiences this loss of the romanticism about writing. Being an editor makes a person realize how haughty, demanding and spoiled a writer can be. The focus for an editor is readability and getting the issue in on time – nothing about artistic merit or “voice” – just the realistic fact that people have to read this newspaper.

I think there’s value to that, though. It crosses the line (and Kinsley especially acknowledges this), when the editor mistreats the writers like they’re complete underlings: ignoring emails, hacking at random paragraphs to save a few words, etc.

Being an editor at the Loyolan has sucked the creativity right out of me, but I think it’s made my articles better. I can’t wait to see what happens over the summer when I’m completely out-of-touch with editorial.

Party boy

I really like Virginia Heffernan’s blog. Here’s her article from the NYT magazine about Evites and the complexities of online party invitations. Afterwards she suggests alternates to Evite:

For the supremely confident only: Twitter to tell your followers where you’ll be in 10 minutes, and expect a crowd.

I think she’s on to the Kelly Sutton idea for Twitter usage.

When media meets media

There’s a great article about the culture clash between Silicon Valley and Hollywood in the New York Times yesterday. The whole thing is interesting, but I’d like to highlight part of it. It’s a quote from a Sony exec:

“I don’t know if they feel they don’t need us or are going directly to the talent,” he said. “There are always going to be huge cultural differences between us because the interests are different. On their side they are fundamentally interested in technology and, on our side, we are interested in the content.”

The strange thing is that right now a huge percentage of the new media audience is fundamentally interested in technology also — and not content (the entertainment sense of content translates to “Brad Pitt”). Companies like Revision3 are banking on this. In fact, the internet is creating its own celebrities based around geek-dom, like Gary Vaynerchuk, Veronica Bellmont and Kevin Rose.

But my inkling is that if web entertainment is going to stay completely afloat, some people better start flying their private jets north.

Technology in College — for its own sake

This was an article originally written for the Los Angeles Loyolan but it was also published at HackCollege.com.

I’m part of the last generation of “Film Production” majors to go through LMU. The School of Film and Television is phasing out the major and already, the sophomores and freshmen major in something different: just plain old “Production.” The point is to encompass both television and film (and maybe even new media) into one major. The class structure is altered now so that students have to take both television and film classes. The idea is that the two workflows are gradually converging, as one-hour television dramas shoot on film and action movies get shot on digital video. That sounds pretty progressive for a film school, doesn’t it?

Unfortunately, changing the name of a major doesn’t do the trick. If you’re going to shoot a junior thesis, AKA PROD 300, you have to use film – actual film, like the stuff we used in still cameras once upon a time. Real film is expensive. That means the bare minimum budget for a junior thesis is about $3,000. Indeed, it’s as goofy a requirement as it sounds. Effectively, when you’re a junior, you can’t shoot a fictional piece on a digital medium in spite of the dawn of iTunes, high-definition television and outstanding digital cameras like the Red One. Granted, 35mm is certainly not obsolete, but it’s noncore for a media person these days.

Our school is chock full of such techno-hypocrisy. Tenured professors who still use AOL meet in 2008 with young people holding iPhones. These bigwigs sit on boards and control policies to prepare students for real life – if our students were graduating 10 years ago. Someone out there saw this happening at LMU and decided to do something about it: hence, the ITA. Every school at Loyola has an Instructional Technology Analyst, whose sole job is to push people toward podcasting and blogging. The ITAs report to IT – not the deans and Jesuits from the past – which gives them enough autonomy to make changes quickly. It’s a step in the right direction, which I applaud, but I still have to watch my peers struggle with celluloid just to meet the requirements for graduation.

Why do people need to learn digital video instead of film? It seems silly to ask this question, but it sheds light on other situations. If the industry is moving towards cameras with hard drives instead of clockwork, then shouldn’t our students be learning about those instead? By the same token, if PR is moving towards MySpace and lectures are moving towards iTunes U then shouldn’t the same follow for our communications and education majors?

In the technology biz, people are critical of one such new phenomenon: the wiki. A wiki is a simple online space for organizing and sharing information. There are other wikis besides Wikipedia – ones for traveling, planning weddings or Philosophy 101 classes. Few would argue that there’s anything inherently bad about a wiki. The resentment is for the “throw a wiki at it” mentality that many leaders trumpet – where letting users put all the information in one place can supposedly solve every problem. Wikis can’t solve every problem and neither can digital video, blogs or Blackboard. One might say: “But isn’t that what these ITAs are doing? Just promoting technology for the sake of it?”

They are, but in the classroom, it’s different. I never thought I’d be doing this, but this is an argument for “technology for the sake of technology.” I really think that educational institutions are an exception to the “throw a Wiki at it” misconception, because throwing a Wiki means a class of students has to learn how to catch one. Students need to know these technologies so that they can use them when they graduate. In other words — if we still wrote our papers on typewriters none of us would get jobs.

My summer

For the record, I’m PAing for G.I. Joe and interning at Revision3 this summer. It’ll be a blast.

How to Get a Hollywood PA Job

This article comes from the now defunct “Film Student Blog.” I still think it’s useful, so I thought I’d backdate it and toss it to the web again. It used to get a lot of traffic.

It’s right about time to be scrambling for a summer job and for a film student, there is no better job than being a set PA on a studio project. PAs work long, stop-and-go hours, aren’t paid well, and are generally demeaned by most of the crew — but the amount of experience you can get is mind-blowing. It’s also a great way to start yourself off with a small network of good contacts.

First, a little job description. A production assistant does what people in the industry call “jumping on grenades.” In other words, you will practically risk your life in an effort to solve problems that no one else can solve (or wants to solve). It mostly involves getting things: coffee, a lighter, batteries, Advil, a TX-90 6″ hex screw… that type of thing. But because of the versatility of a PA, they are one of the most important parts of a movie crew. Working as a PA, you will do at least one thing that will save the entire production from complete failure and disaster. How about that for your resume?

PAs are constantly bossed around by almost every department, but for the most part, they technically work in “Production” directly under the Key PA or Second Assistant Director. That being the case, working as a PA is an important component to eventually getting into the DGA or becoming a successful director.

Even though the production assistant is technically an entry-level position, actually getting a legitimate (paying) PA job is difficult. There is a huge amount of competition from other students and recent graduates. But there’s definitely a few things you can do to make sure you’re the one who’s working this summer. And if all else fails, get a job at Starbucks and write a screenplay instead.

If you know people

Because if you don’t know people, you’re pretty much screwed. Don’t get scared yet – you probably know someone who’s connected, but you don’t realize it. Even that cocky grad-level student producer (the one who always says, “Hi,” but doesn’t know your name) can probably hook you up.

Here’s why you need connections: PAs get hired on a whim. Good productions rarely put out a classified. If they do, they probably hire all the PAs before you’ll even read it. That’s because the best PAs are connected enough to find out about a production before you read about it on Craig’s List.

The main factor here is loyalty. Production Coordinators (who normally hire PAs), have a reliable handful of workers who they call every time they need them. The trick is becoming a part of that handful or the back-up for that handful. And for that, all you really need is one good production (so you can get friendly with the Production Coordinator). And all you need for one good production is one good contact.

First of all, don’t be afraid that you’re going to “waste” a contact. You aren’t “using” the person. You don’t have to save your connections for one good favor. People expect to get this call — just do it.

Now down to the nitty-gritty. You’ve got your contact. What do you do? What do you say? It all depends on how legit they are. If it’s a good friend or a lower ranking person (PA, 2nd AD, APOC) just ask them if they know about anything that’s crewing up soon and get the production’s contact info. Meet for a cup of coffee or something and keep touching base.

If you’re lucky enough to know a big-shot, you have to handle things more carefully. It definitely comes off as demeaning to call a VIP only to ask for a lowly PA job. You need to butter them up a bit first. Try to get into their office for a 15 minute meeting. Pitch it as an “informal interview” — tell them you want to use their infinite experience to inform your summer job decisions (which you probably do anyways). Talk with the person for a bit about your aspirations and ask for some advice. You want to subtly coerce them into offering you a little job — and if you play it right, you might even get a bigger job than you expected.

If you don’t know people

If you “don’t know people,” go back and read the section about “knowing people.” You are going to exhaust yourself for no reason if you don’t at least try to milk some connections first.

And, as a last resort, do it cold. There are a few good resources for finding what’s in pre-production and production right now, and that’s where you should start. Probably the best place: the trades. Look in Variety every Friday for film, and every Thursday for television. The Hollywood Reporter does film every Tuesday (that’s the issue that lists the date as Tuesday through the following Monday), and television the first and third Tuesday of each month.

And here are the best websites:

Mandy (mandy.com)
Hollywood Creative Directory (hdconline.com)
Production Weekly (productionweekly.com)
Production Alert (productionalertusa.com)
Craig’s List (craigslist.com) (I’m not kidding)

Here’s the trick to the websites. Most of the time, the ad will not read “Great chance to PA on a big studio action flick with Bruce Willis and Michael Bay! Please apply!” The Production Coordinators I know normally stay really low-key and discreet. It will look like a sketchy independent film. I guess it’s just to mess with people.

Okay, so between those resources, pick out about 30 viable productions and get all the information you can. Again, you’re trying to get in touch with the Production Coordinator. Here are two ways to do this once you have the numbers and addresses.

Probably the best idea is to just walk right into their production office. You’re going there to hand-deliver your resume. The person at the front desk (an office PA) is probably going to tell you that they’ve already crewed up, which is probably true. Try to give them your resume anyway, in case they need back-up. They are going to throw away your resume when you leave. Who knows.

If the person says they’re still crewing up, try to meet the Production Coordinator as long as you’re there. It might turn into a mini-interview. In fact, you might even get hired right on the spot (like I said, PAs are hired on a whim).

Your other option is to call or email. Get them your resume. Follow up in a few days. Then, again, a few days after that. Pray. It’s much easier to get turned down this way.

No matter what you do, be as friendly as you can to everyone, especially that office PA who will answer the phones or greet you at the door. Soon, that person might be your co-worker, but more importantly — that person is probably going to read the resumes and pick a few PAs (because everyone else is too busy). So, make small talk, and remember names. Do your mother proud.

If you don’t even live in LA or New York

If you don’t live in LA or New York, it’s going to be tough. If you’re really lucky, you might be able to cold-call until you get an on-location shoot where the production will fly you in and put you up, but rarely would they go to that much trouble just for a PA. They normally opt to hire locally for on-location shoots.

Your best bet is trying to work on a mini local production. Try to get in touch with your state/city film/television commission/association… they might be able to help you. Even if you’re working for free on a fitness program on public access, you’ll still gain valuable experience. In fact, in an intimate setting like that, the director might even know your name.

A Crash Course

[I wrote this for my motion picture analysis class. I think that even though it’s not a perfectly written piece, it’s my final word on the movie Crash. Since it’s such a hotly debated and talked-about film, I just wanted to go on record with my thoughts. Enjoy.]

The most important thing in a movie is the writing. Concept is all we hear about in Hollywood and while clothes-pins are nicknamed “C-47s” on a set, the story has a more appropriate moniker: “the bible”. It’s importance is such that no amount of acting, cinematography, or sound design can redeem a poorly-written screenplay. And rightly so: what more could filmmaking be than an elaborate form of storytelling? Crash is a multi-racial hodgepodge of intersecting lives, brought together through conflict and disaster – an interesting way to tell a story – yet it fails by being too contrived. It was written and directed by Paul Haggis in 2004, won an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay (often considered “cooler” than Best Picture). But don’t let that fool you. It doesn’t take a forensic scientist to get to the bottom of this wreck.

On the first day of an introductory class in screenwriting, the teacher would explain “on the nose” dialogue: one of the biggest pitfalls of an amateur writer. “On the nose” refers to dialogue that too clearly indicates what a character is thinking or feeling. It lacks the subtlety that real life exhibits. Example: I would never say, “I am so mad right now! I am furious!” unless I was being completely facetious. But this is what Crash boils racism down to: an obvious, on-the-surface expression of anger. When a Persian and an American gun shop owner get into an argument he busts out this line: “Yeah, I’m ignorant? … And I’m flying 747s into your mud huts and incinerating your friends?” When an Asian and a Latin American (police officer) get into an argument over a car crash, the Asian says she’s going to “call immigration” and the other woman insults the Asian’s accent. People just don’t talk like this. It goes back-and-forth for almost the whole film, to such an absurd point that some people play a drinking game according to how often each race gets blatantly dissed.

Okay, so maybe Crash is supposed to be a movie about people who become diehard racists when they’re upset. No excuse. White Americans watch this shocking, dramatic film, but deep down inside, they feel comforted. First, because Crash would have you believe that racism is an ever-happening cycle that victimizes everyone equally, including white people. And secondly, Crash doesn’t just tell us that racism is bad; but that as long as you’re not a bigot, you’re okay. As long as you don’t call someone “Osama” or a “chinaman”, then you’re fine – which couldn’t be more wrong. Today, there are no Jim Crow laws. The problem with racism in this country is not extremism. It’s unconsciously clutching your husband’s arm when you see a black kid. It’s unaffectedly getting angry when your car collides with a white person’s.

So, maybe Haggis didn’t go to film school, but a high school English class might have taught him something else he ignored: to do multiple revisions of his work. A woman and her father get a free box of ammunition with the gun they are purchasing. He wants “the kind that fits,” and she responds: “There’s more than one kind.” Sixty seconds of unashamed racism later, the clerk asks about the kind of ammunition, she earnestly responds, “The kind that fits.” An inconsistency like this should be gone after draft one, but Haggis’s priority in this scene isn’t the characters. Instead, it’s their banter, since it tends to his agenda.

But Haggis might have benefited most from an elementary school writing class, where they may have explained a devious, little-known element of despicable storytelling. It’s one thing to be inspired by a film, or to pay homage to another masterpiece, but Crash practically engages in outright plagiarism. It goes without saying that Crash joins a handful character-driven, episodic-style Los Angeles stories that began with Grand Canyon in 1991 and begot at least two remarkable motion pictures: Short Cuts, and Magnolia.

The culminating scenes in Crash, Short Cuts, and Magnolia involve an experience that all of the characters share in common. In Short Cuts, it was a strange climactic condition: an earthquake. Magnolia took off on Short Cuts, but in a totally different direction: frogs fell from the sky. Crash copied both by using a strange natural disaster that also fell from the sky: snow. In Crash, this scene also completely departs from the whole film’s musical motif and switches to “Into the Deep” by Bird York. Only hearing it back-to-back with “Wise Up” by Aimee Mann (played during Magnolia’s similar montage) can fairly exhibit what a rip-off this song is. The timbre is identical: everything from the singer’s voice to the drumbeat in the background.

To contrast, consider a film from another culture, ironically, with a similar name: Caché of 2005, from France. It puts story first, with a thriller-like plot – but in a completely unique, deliberate style, all its own. Caché may or may not even have an “agenda” like Crash because it treats racism like the theme it should be. It handles it with such precise subtlety that an American, unfamiliar with the tensions in France, could watch the entire film and not even realize its implications. Crash crashed, and Caché delicately bumped. I don’t claim that the French are better filmmakers than us, but maybe they’re just better-educated.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

By now, I’ve traversed this 3,000-mile stretch of country by every form of commercial transportation known to mankind except watercraft and hot-air-balloon. Planes, okay, we all get that, and most people have taken a road trip and a train: well, even a trip on the rapid gives you some perspective, so in the end, what do I have to say? Moving your body to a different location sucks, and I don’t care if we’re talking about cross-country skiing or arguing about who’s going to DD for the night, it just sucks, but you should try a train, just once, because it’s pretty decent if you get lucky. C’mon, if it’s good enough for Sir Topham Hatt, then it’s good enough for me.

But then again, you can get a shitty situation like I did on the short coach leg from Chicago to Cleveland. It smelled like coleslaw in my car and I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. An obviously homeless woman asked the conductor for help and after he explained, she responded: “Thank you, I get kind of confused sometimes, because I think I had a stroke. That’s why I’m taking the train, so I can go to the hospital in Chicago.” Eventually, I fell asleep and when I woke up, the white-trash woman across the aisle was changing her kid’s diaper right there on the seat. And it still smelled like coleslaw.

But the majority of the trip was great, from Chicago to California. I saved a lot of dough, that’s for sure. They even bumped me up to a sleeper. One major difference, is the price doesn’t fluctuate as much as it does for a flight, so there’s no need to book it months in advance. There are outlets, which is a definite plus. Because there’s no way you’re gonna toast Hot Pockets in a plane or a car. In a train, there is no “fasten seatbelt sign,” in fact, there’s no seatbelt at all. So you can wander about and stretch and sit the café or the observation car and whatnot. Security is lax, so it’s no big deal to bring your transformers or drugs on board.

That’s what’s measurable, but something different made it really valuable. I won’t tackle the obvious here and try to convince you that 40 hours of desert scenery really made it worth it – it definitively didn’t. What really made the difference is the collection of people on the train. You do meet people on a train, no matter how hard you try not to. In the dining car, they force you to sit at a table with three other strangers. I met a woman with 11 kids and a husband in Iraq. I met a New Orleans refuge who lived in his car for 3 weeks. I met a Persian from New York who rides trains to avoid harassment at security checks. I met a blind guy from France. I even met a fellow screenwriter. I don’t want to get all “wise” so I’ll stop there, but you get the point. Other ways of moving about are weighed for their convenience, but after you’ve been on a train you realize what it’s really like to travel.