Slumdog Millionaire. Definitely one of the best films of last year. Not on my top ten list for the decade, but an enjoyable film that really struck a chord with audiences.

There has been a lot of debate over the film, including some points I think are worth taking a moment to address.

1) It's emotionally manipulative.
Well, uh, yeah. It's a movie. Seriously, though, this is I think one of the oddest complaints and its one I've seen directed toward other popular movies, like E.T. I've never been sure whether the problem is that it's transparent about the emotions it's working to evoke, that it does so clumsily or incompletely, that it becomes melodramatic, or that it does so too well. Nearly all films, including documentaries... in fact, nearly all art, is emotionally manipulative. Whether it's simply trying to share a sense of the wonder of a panorama, or to get us to share the soaring hopes and failures of a character, that is part of what movies do. Do you really think There Will Be Blood was not manipulative?

2) It's culturally biased.
Well, the Indian co-director did her best to help temper cultural insensitivities, and my impression is that she did an excellent job. A little of this is unavoidable any time you have a film being made about a country and culture that the director is not native to. I think it's far less culturally insensitive than, say, Last of the Mohicans is about Native Americans, or The Hunt for Red October is about Russians. Even a native Indian director would have their own bias: muslim/hindu, Mumbai native or from another city, etc.

3) It glamorizes poverty/It makes the poor look bad/It makes Mumbai look like a crime-ridden slum/It only shows one side of India
I did not find that it made poverty look appealing. I can't imagine any kid watching Slumdog and thinking it would be cool to be poor like that. Nor does it portray all the poor folks in the same light (all good or all bad.) I don't know how anyone could see the harshness of burning out a child's eye so they will make more money begging as "glamorizing," unless they were just looking at the pretty colors and the lovely cinematography. And in the two brothers it shows the choices that most poor face: embrace a life of crime and try to profit at great risk, OR work hard and be honest and hope that destiny will deliver you to a better life.
As for only showing one side of India or portraying Mumbai as a slum: The only slum larger than the one portrayed in Slumdog is in Nairobi. Dharavi is home to millions, and it is most definitely a slum (though one that is beginning to be redeveloped.) And since when has it been the responsibility of any movie to accurately portray an entire nation. It's not the job of a movie to give an accurate and balanced view of India, and this kind of criticism only points out how much further world cinema has to go.

4) Destiny? That's weak.
A lot of people were frustrated by the plot revolved which around a character who felt he was destined to achieve what he achieves. There are three things they miss.

First: Destiny holds a much more important place in the thinking of a culture where most marriages are still arranged and where poverty is a much less permeable barrier than in the US. The film's character believes in destiny.
Second: Most Hollywood Romance movies, and many other films, rely to a large extent on destiny. They found each other because they were meant to be together. It's a fairly common device.
Third: Destiny... or the sum of a life's choices? How can you tell the difference? is there one? I am sitting here now writing this blog, and I can go back and point to various instances in my life that led me to be exactly where I am and who I am now, that led up to this precise point. They were things that happened to me, and how I responded to them. To say that a character is Destined is only to say that what must occur does occur, or what does occur must. Destiny is no mystery. Destiny does not negate choices, it simply uses our choices to manifest itself.

5) The acting was weak.
OK. I concede this one. At least as far as the leads were concerned. I think that Dev Patel was flat, and am glad that he was only in a fraction of the film. The younger actors were full of spark and life and were completely wonderful. Frieda Pinto's performance completely lacked nuance - but that does not matter for reasons I'll get to shortly. The other actors, however, were great, including the older Salim. So I don't think Dev Patel should win any awards for his performance, but he did manage not to muck up the movie as a whole.

6) Latika was a golddigger, or Latika was way underdeveloped
There were subtleties in the character that a better actress could have brought to light. She sacrificed her virginity to save Jamal's life, but part of her wanted him to somehow stop Salim. Instead, Jamal ran away, and left her to become a trophy to the local mafioso. So yeah, when he showed up again it took her a little while to warm up to him. And she knew that if she ran away, the bad guys would come after her - so it would take some money to get someplace safe. Asking about money was practical, but it was also defensive - fear of being judged, criticism of Jamal who had abandoned her for so long... but ultimately, Latika's character and her feelings are unimportant for one simple reason.
I'm surprised that no one seems to have seen her this way, but Latika is not so much a character, as she is the MacGuffin.
Latika is what motivates much of the key action in the film, not just because she is what Jamal wants above all else, but because that desire directs many of Salim's actions, and desire to possess Latika motivates the beggar-king, and the mafioso.
Latika is the MacGuffin. It doesn't matter one bit if she loves Jamal. It's the journey toward her, toward the object of desire, that gives an order and a meaning to the otherwise apparently random string of events that make up Jamal's life.

So, uh, that competition?The one I barely managed to complete the assignment for, with zero editing?Figured I'd do Ok. Top third. Enough so that I could do well in the overall, since the points for each round accumulate.I placed 1 in my group.Wow.

I've got a short screenplay posted on my other blog.

Go check it out, I'd love to hear your feedback:
Desire's Revenge

I now have more faith in my country than I ever thought possible.

I have said for several years that what we needed as president was a leader. Not a politician, or a negotiator, or a businessman, or whatever else a president might be - but a leader. Someone who would hold up a vision to inspire the nation, and then encourage us to get there. That to re-invigorate innovation, promote service, and generate real change - we needed someone who could make us see that a) it is possible, still and b) it is our job as individuals, to make it happen - not to rely on the government.

Kennedy was such a leader. Martin Luther King. Lincoln, and Susan B. Anthony.

But I didn't think I'd see such a leader anytime soon. A leader like that requires not only their particular skills and charisma, but the right atmosphere for their message to flourish. I simply didn't think things were bad enough for the public to be motivated in any significant way.

When I first heard Obama speak, knowing nothing about him but the small rumblings that he might run for president one day. I don't remember what he said, I just remember being impressed...but I did not think we were ready to elect a black man president. The more I learned about him, the less chance I thought he had. Bi-racial, African father, raised abroad, hippie mom. I thought his name alone would be his downfall. That his opponents would just have to say "Barak Hussein Obama" a few times, and that while there was little chance the majority of voters would vote for someone with an ethnic name, there was no way they would vote for someone with a muslim name - and not just any muslim name, but one specifically demonized and associated with the worst kind of despotism.

And they tried...

...but we got past it.
Mr. Obama got us past it, but we were ready to go there.


We turned out in record numbers. We got past race, past ethnicity, past the demonization of a name.
And I am so proud, right now, to be an American.

Managing the clinic takes a huge amount of energy. It's stressful, and I'll be honest: I'm not happy doing it. It's not quite what I'd imagined: a lot more administration, a lot more dealing with complaints and with needy people - both clients and employees. So I've given myself permission to not think or write - a mental vacation - and spend my free time playing Warhammer Online. Sometimes it's necessary to shut off for a while. I'll be back. I always am. Either I'll find balance at this job, or I will go back to doing massage.

I was promoted to manager at Massage Envy, running the location in Plano, and we're severely understaffed right now so I'm working pretty much all the time. Anyone want to work a front desk/sales position? $8/hr plus commissions on memberships you sell. Low key and relaxed environment. Full and part time, morning and night shift available. Get in touch and let me know!

I've been a bit stuck with my writing for the last, oh, couple of years - for reasons I'll get into in another post (real soon) - but in the meantime, my creativity has found other outlets, primarily cooking.

So I've decided to include the occasional food post here.

A few notes about the way I cook...I improvise a lot. I take risks. I experiment. I play. When I tell you I can't give you a recipe, it's true. Not only do I rarely know how much I used of any ingredient, I often don't remember every ingredient I used. When I want to try a new dish, I research and find about a dozen recipes. I see what they have in common, and what items and amounts vary - and go from there. I also have enough experience to have a very good idea of how certain flavors will play together, or how changing the amounts of ingredients will effect the texture.



Recently I did a brisket, slow cooked for about 18 hours. Yes, that's right, 18 hours. Brisket is tricky - and the only way to really get it tender is to use a whole one (around 10-12 pounds), with the fat cap on (yes, that's just what it sounds like - a good inch or more of fat on the top of the whole thing) and cook it as slowly as you can manage while keeping it as moist as possible (the fat cap helps with this.) I made a rub that I liked, and thankfully have some left over so I'll use it again: salt, black pepper, smoked hot paprika, sweet paprika, dry mustard, cumin, cinnamon (and maybe some other things I've forgotten).

But the thing I was most happy with was the sauce. It was a Dr. Pepper Citrus BBQ. Where I got that notion, I'm not sure. I saw a recipe for a mop sauce (that is, a thin BBQ sauce you mop onto the meat while it cooks) that used root beer, and Dr. Pepper just has a little more complex flavor - so I thought I'd try it. I added the juice of a couple of oranges, some of the dry rub seasoning, a fair amount of liquid smoke (pecan), a little cider vinegar, a little ketchup, and some honey. I simmered it, letting it cook down a bit - and when it was time to baste, I took some of the drippings out of the pan and mixed them into the sauce before using it to baste. The resulting sauce was complex, a little smoky, a little tangy (without being too vinegary - which shuts down the taste buds), a little sweet (but not cloying.) I have no idea if I can repeat that sauce, but I'll definitely play with it again. I'd like to try a thicker version with more citrus on some chicken.



Last night my sister and I shared a Lamb and Apricot tagine. I made something similar a couple of months ago, using dried apricots. This time I used fresh, and you'd never even realize they were the same dish. I used lamb neck this time, too, which is much leaner (and way cheaper) than the shanks I used last time, so the flavor was more mild, not as gamey. If you're going to stew the meat, then a cut like neck is fine - the meat falls off the bone, is tender, the marrow contributes to the dish, and if you have dogs they will appreciate it.

I'd started the tagine over a week ago - because I'd picked up the lamb, not realizing how long the brisket would last us - and had it in a container in the fridge. I wasn't sure if it'd still be good, but when I pried open the top and got a bright whiff of fresh apricot - I knew it was all good. (A cold fridge and air-tight container makes a huge difference.)

For those who aren't familiar with the term: a tagine is a stew, traditionally cooked in a ceramic pot with a high conical top. the word actually describes the vessel, but is applied to the dishes made in it as well. It's designed to cook on a low fire, and works best in a modern kitchen on a stove top. The high cone captures the moisture, allows it to condensate, and drip back into the food. Moroccan tagines are generally made with a cheap cut of meat (often lamb or chicken), a few veggies, some fruit and maybe honey - plus a complex blend of spices.

I'm in love with the Moroccan spice blend Ras el Hanout. Like curry, there are as many variations as there are cooks - and some of the ingredients often used in Morocco are illegal here (like Spanish Fly) - but it's still a wonderous thing. The one I bought from World Market includes not only "warm" aromatic spices like cinnamon, cardamom, turmeric, black pepper and ginger, but rosebuds and lavender. My mother used to refer to cooking as alchemy, and all I need to do open the container and smell this in order to believe there's some kind of magic here.

So - this tagine, I threw together the following: lamb neck, ras el hanout, salt, the juice of a lemon plus the rind, a little honey, red wine, a couple handfuls of baby carrots, and a can of diced tomatoes. I used some mint I'd grown, but I have no talent for gardening and the mint somehow managed to have almost no flavor - so it had no noticeable impact in the dish. (Last time I made the tagine, with dried apricots and lamb shank, the mint played beautifully off of the tomatoes.) When it was all done, I felt like it still needed something - so when I re-heated it last night, I added garbanzos and more ras el hanout and red wine.

This dish was a real joy. The brightness of the apricots and tomatoes balanced the heaviness of the lamb, and the spices wafted off of it, filling the room with the smell.

Good food, especially when I am involved in it from conception, to production, to consumption, to be transported to a realm of pure sensuality.


Right now, I've let my weight climb up alarmingly, and my sister's having health problems related to her weight and diet - so most of my posts on cooking will focus on healthy foods. Whole grains, small amounts of processed carbohydrates, lots of legumes and beans, lots of veggies and fruits, and lean meats of all kinds. I'll be using these posts as a way to keep myself excited about cooking healthy, and remembering that tea-smoked salmon with a wasabi vinaigrette can be as sensual and fulfilling as brisket burnt ends.

It's generally accepted that the '30s and '40s were the golden age for cinema, and that more great films were made in 1969 than in any other year.

But In a recent blog, Earl Pomerantz says

1939. The Oscar winner was Gone With the Wind, the nominees – among others – The Wizard of Oz (Dr. M's favorite), Stagecoach, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and Ninotchka, leaving no room fo Beau Geste, Gunga Din, Young Mr. Lincoln and The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Not the mention The Thin Man. May I have your comparable list of any other year? Or any era, beyond the Thirties and Forties, where, by the way, the movie business was just as passionately committed to making a profit?


This was my response:

1976:

All the President's Men
Bound for Glory
Carrie
Marathon Man
Network
The Omen
Rocky
Taxi Driver


That's a pretty good list - and there are comparable ones from every year from 1969 to 1979 (with some stellar films in '67 and '68 as well.)

And of course, 1939 also included Hitler - Beast of Berlin, Barricade, Bachelor Mother, Boys' Reformatory, Andy Hardy Gets Spring Fever, and Daughter of the Tong.

Every year has good and bad films.


Though, I do admit, the balance has been off for a while - I think it's cyclical. Film improves every time it's threatened by new technology. In the '30s - there were over 40 million radios in use in homes in the US. To compete with radio shows, the movies had to be better. In the 60's TVs had proliferated - and in the 70's, with the advent of the VCR, movies had to shine a little more to compete with videos.

I think we're about due for another golden age, as "new media" becomes more prominent and studios realize that to compete with DVRs and the Internet, they don't need to make more expensive movies - just better ones.


---

(I left out The Man Who Fell to Earth (one of my favorite movies), and a handful of other favorites)

I get frustrated with the kind of nostalgia that says things were better once and they'll never be that great again because it's all ruined. It reminds me of the nostalgia for a fake-perfect America that conservatives use, an imagined 1950s where everything was Leave it to Beaver and there were no poor people, or shell-shocked vets, and women never minded not being able to divorce their alcoholic husbands, or to work as something other than a secretary or waitress when they were widowed.

There were a lot of great movies in 1939, and in 1976 - but every year has amazing films, groundbreaking work, and every year has schlock. Indiana Jones, this year, is schlock. But did you see Iron Man? Critically acclaimed movies thus far this year include: Reprise, Priceless, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, The Visitor, and The Counterfeiters - and we're not even close to "Oscar season."

for those of you who love Buffy, Angel, and Firefly/Serenity:
Welcome to Dollhouse.

Caesura is a literary term, referring, in poetry, to a pause that occurs naturally when a line is spoken. It is used purposefully, using the rhythms of speech to make it fall in a specific place, to create a desired effect, and can be soft (barely noticeable) or hard (as in a full stop, such as a period.) Without these little pauses, the words all run together an become meaningless. When used skillfully, they can not only add to the flow of a piece, but can actually create implied meaning. (For example, when I sing White Christmas, when I get to the line, "everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe," I like to pause after "turkey". That pause give a whole new meaning to the line.)

What I've noticed recently, is that there is some equivalent to the caesura in all art forms.

On Dancing with the Stars, one of the judges is fond of saying that a good dance needs "light and shade," by which he means aggressive or flashy moments should be punctuated by quiet ones in order to have the most impact. A dance that is all "pow" simply isn't as interesting.

In advertising and print design, we talk about "white space." The page needs to have a certain amount of white space in order to look like something meaningful, or it all bleeds together. A page of advertising that's full of exclamation points and neon lettering and bright photos might as well be a black and white list of dense text - when everything is loud nothing stands out. High end advertising often contains a large amount of white space, and may be a single large object on a white or other simple background, with little more than a short slogan and a logo.

Examples:
3G
VW
Coke
Dove

as opposed to something busy like this, where the message gets lost


This one is interesting because it effectively blends the background details so that they appear monochromatic, and then it also echoes for emphasis and to play on the message. This kind of echo, or refrain, is used in music and poetry in a similar manner.


In visual art, we talk about "negative space," which is, simply, the space not used. It applies not only to painting and photography, but to three-dimensional and functional arts such as sculpture, architecture, furniture, and even jewelry.

Negative space is used to create optical illusions, where we focus on one image, and only when we shift our perception do we see another image as well. Perhaps in a similar manner, in a story what seemed like the background, or what seemed like the pauses between action, could suddenly pop to the forefront, while the the other story becomes backgrounded.

Which brings me to screenwriting and film. The caesura is used here as well.

Visually - framing, focus, and light are used to direct the eye. Where the eye is not directed is the negative space. Look at the use of negative space in these filmic images, and the way they dramatize the actor, make them seem bigger than life, or overwhelmed by their environment:
Pirates of the Caribbean
7-Year Itch
Platoon
Sound of Music
Serenity

Without the negative space surrounding them, these moments in the film would feel smaller, less important. The negative space sets them apart, sets the actors apart.

Here's a great image from Lord of the Rings, where the actor becomes part of the negative space, a shade lighter than the background, and the focus is on an object in the foreground.

These things might be implied in a script by describing the big sky behind the character, or the tight box enclosing them. The focus on an object could be highlighted by describing the character matching the background: grey, more than white, as the tower was a grey of a darker shade - and the red eye of the orb glowed before him (OK, that sucks, but you get the idea.)

But film is not static, and negative space can be manipulated to create meaning and moods in movies through movement - whether it's as simple as pulling back to increase the volume of negative space, or pulling in to tighten on an actor. Changing the color, texture, and location. Changing the focus, sharp on one actor or object, then switching focus to another.

What I'm most interested in right now, however, is the use of the caesura in screenwriting. Pauses in the story. Quiet moments. Or, as Mystery Man put it in a recent post, breathing room.

The most straightforward use is perhaps to modulate pacing. A few movies have come out recently that are non-stop go-go-go, and while Crank and others like it are fun, I wonder if they would have been improved by a little breathing space. The pace goes from 0 to 60 very quickly, and to maintain the feeling of speed, needs to keep getting faster. When you're driving at 70mph, it stops feeling fast after just a few minutes. To keep feeling the speed, you need to slow down a bit at regular intervals. It also gives the character a chance to believably rest and have the energy to go hard again.


Another use of slow moments is to build suspense and tension. The calm before the storm (in a natural disaster movie, this might be literal.) It's suspense, rather than surprise. Hitchcock said it best.

There is a clear difference between surprise and suspense […]. We are sitting here and having an innocent conversation. Let us assume that there is a bomb under this table between us. […] suddenly there is a loud boom and the bomb goes off. The audience is surprised, but before this surprise they have only seen a very ordinary scene without any significance. Let us instead look at suspense scene. The bomb is under the table and the audience is aware of this because they have seen the anarchist plant it there. They also know that the bomb will go off at one o'clock, and up on the wall is a clock showing that the time is now quarter to one […]. In the first scene we have given the audience 15 seconds of surprise […] but in the last scene we have given them fifteen minutes of suspense.

Those moments of suspense are when an audience becomes invested in the result, and those moments are the ones they remember. Surprise may get their heart rate up, but nothing's been invested, so without another surprise immediately after the moment passes and is soon forgotten.


Another use of the caesura, or dramatic pause, is to emphasize the importance of a moment. This can be a small one, and need not even be a full scene. A pause can simply underline whatever occurred right before, or let us know that what we see next is something to pay attention to.

If a character simply walks by our protagonist on the street, stops and looks in a window, and moves on, the audience is unlikely to even take note. That's just an extra, a passerby. If, however, the protagonist has just stopped to, say, check at their watch or look at the sky and are essentially doing nothing for a moment before that other person passes them, and as that other person stops and looks in the window, then the audience is likely to take note of them and wonder what their significance is. You can bring this character back, and many audience members will remember them.

It can also underline theme. A moment that is quiet will give the audience time to reflect, and think about what's happened and why. Small moments, with small reactions from the characters, are ones the audience can fill with their own meaning. If these come right after a significant thematic moment, then it will serve to underscore that idea. Say, the character looks at a photo - and then sits back on the couch for a minute, and gets up and starts straightening the room. Whatever was in that photo becomes more important than if they look at it, put it down, and move on. If they look at it, then rush out the door - the photo may be important to the plot, but with the quiet moment, it's likely to speak more to either theme or character.

Which brings me to the final use of quiet moments in a film: character development. Whether they highlight some element of the character's background or history, or show something about their nature, or give them time to process an emotion - this is a challenging way to use the filmic caesura, but may be the most rewarding for the writer. Well, if you like focusing on your characters, that is. Which I'd say most of us screenwriters do.

Examples:

A man goes to a park, and walk around. Maybe he kicks the leaves, or stops at a particular bench, smells the flowers on a particular rosebush. You know he is remembering this place, or one very much like it.

Or - she folds laundry. Every shirt is military-precise. Items are separated, socks are paired, things are hung or put into drawers right away. Then imagine, against this quiet background, she comes across an unmatched sock - a man's sock - and sits down with it, on the bed, sighs, and fights back tears as she strokes the pillow on the opposite side of the bed. This is a much more dramatic and memorable way to tell us her husband is missing (dead? at war? run off?) than if we caught the news through dialogue. If it hadn't been a quiet scene, it would not have been pregnant with implied meaning. Such a small thing as a sock, and touching a pillow, would get lost in a busier, faster scene. The questions about exactly what happened can be answered later, with a close up of an object or a single line of dialogue that wouldn't have had meaning unless the audience was already looking for answers. (When she goes to the post office, someone stops and puts their hand on her arm and says, I'm sorry. She nods and thanks them.)



The caesura is an essential building block of the art of the screenplay, just as any other art, and I'm sure there are many other uses for it.