How to Know You are Actually in a Movie

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Characters in movies don’t know they are in a piece of projected fiction. This is often portrayed as “genre blindness,” where a particular genre of movies is never referenced in the story directly. This is often the case with zombie movies.

If you were trapped in a movie, a character in a piece of cinematic fiction, how could you tell?

Well, for one thing, parking would be a lot easier. Wherever you go, to a friend’s house, to a shop, or anywhere really, there will be a parking spot not only close by but very likely right in front of the place you are hurrying to. This is especially true in massive cities with crowded streets. No one in a movie set in San Francisco bats an eye at the magical parking available to them.

Another way to know that your actions are being played for someone else’s entertainment is through the radio and television news. When you turn on these devices, not only will the news be playing, but the story will have direct and important relevance to your particular situation. You will not have to wade through minutes of side stories, political posturing, or sports results to get to the vital piece of information that you didn’t know you required.

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Sometimes the Answer is Right There

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One of the challenges in this current novel I am writing, created because I am “pantsing” it—writing the entire thing without a preplanned map or outline—is that I know certain things need to be solved, but the manner of that resolution was utterly unknown to me.

For example, the cultists who have set the plot into motion started everything some 52 years before the novel opens in 1984. Their actions, plots, plans, and objectives are buried in that history and drive the major action, both physical and supernatural, of the story. That’s all well and good, but for the protagonist to come out ahead—to defeat their plans—he has to first know and understand them, and he is way out of date.

There never was going to be a Bond or comic book-like scene where one of the bad guys takes the time to explain everything to my protagonist. That’s not this type of story, and it is not my style of writing.

I knew this problem existed, and in previous books I would have solved the trouble at the outline stage, having worked out a method that served the story, the character, and my own sense of plotting—but not when I am pantsing it. I started the manuscript with only the vaguest idea of precisely what was happening and why, much less any conception of how the “good guys” were going to get clued in on it.

Now I have completed Act 4 of 5, and I really, really need to answer that troublesome question.

And the answer came to me yesterday. It arose naturally, organically from events and backstory I had created along the way. There are details to be worked out and much establishing to do in the revision stage, but the shape can be seen, and it had been there for chapters and chapters—but it took me a good long while to see it.

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Movie Review: The 4th Man

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While researching films that played, particularly in the art houses of San Diego, during the summer of 1984 for my work in progress, I came across a newspaper ad for Paul Verhoeven’s The 4th Man and became quite intrigued.

Searching all the online streamers yielded the result that no one had the film available, nor was it available for a Video on Demand rental or purchase. The fact that the movie seemed impossible to watch only enhanced my curiosity about it. Eventually I found a copy in the public domain section of the Internet Archive and after much toil and trouble got the subtitles working as the film is in Dutch. So, this past weekend my sweetie-wife and I watched The 4th Man.

Verenigde Nederlandsche Filmcompagnie

The story centers on Gerard Reve, a bisexual novelist and clearly on the path to severe alcoholism. After fantasizing about murdering his roommate and lover, Gerard takes a train to another city to give a lecture to a local literary society. Along the way he becomes fascinated by a strikingly handsome man he briefly sees in the carriage of a passing train and is also haunted by strange delusions or visions of a seemingly threatening woman.

After the lecture and experiencing seeming confirmation of his frightening visions, Gerard accepts an invitation from the society’s treasurer, Christine, to stay the night at her home and business. The pair become lovers, but Gerard continues to have disturbing dreams and visions, some of which present Christine as a murderous woman killing off her former lovers. When her current lover Herman returns from his business trip, Gerard is shocked to see it was the same handsome man that had fascinated him at the train station. Now with his sexual desire for both Christine and Herman burning strongly, Gerard’s visions or delusions also intensify and he must discover if they are truth and if he or Herman is destined to become the 4th man murdered by Christine.

Given the similarities in theme—a potentially murderous woman, bisexuality, and explicit sexual scenes—The 4th Manis often compared to another Verhoeven film, Basic Instinct, with the director himself calling The 4th Man a spiritual prequel.

The 4th Man is a stylish erotic thriller that is uninterested in providing the audience with any solid answers to the questions it raises. Gerard’s visions might be prophetic flashes of both future and past or they may be delusions of an alcohol-soaked brain. Christine may be a spider luring men into her parlor and their deaths or she may be a woman tragically unlucky who has suffered the loss of several lovers. It is for the viewer to determine which is the more likely scenario. While watching this film I turned to my sweetie-wife and commented that “David Lynch probably loved this movie.” My feelings were only intensified by the lush, lovely, and captivating cinematography of Jan de Bont. There is absolutely no doubt that The 4th Man is a masterpiece of photography, even with its limited budget.

I have no idea if the movie will make it to the pages of my work in progress—elements of it fit perfectly with my cast of characters—but whether or not it makes an appearance, it was worth the viewing.

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Movie Review: Honey Don’t

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The second in Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke’s planned trilogy of ‘lesbian B-Movies’ Honey Don’t is the story of Honey O’Donahue (Margaret Qualley) a private detective in sun-blasted Bakersfield California.

Focus Features

When a prospective client dies in a single car traffic accident, Honey begins investigating which brings her into the orbit of police evidence officer MG Falcone (Aubrey Plaza) and the pair begin a heated and powerful relationship, bonding over the shared trauma of terrible fathers. The investigation brings to Honey’s attention a Christian church of questionable morality led by the charismatic and corrupt preacher Drew Devlin (Chris Evans.) Things become more complicated when Honey’s niece, Corinne, (Talia Ryder) fails to return home after her closing shift at a local fast-food joint.

At a breezy 89 minutes Honey Don’t is a fast and easy watch but perhaps the film is a bit too breezy. In the resolution of the mystery and when revelations come to light Honey connects dots that I have no recollection of ever being presented to the audience. Now, this is not a terrible thing in a black comedy neo-noir, this is not the Agatha Christie movies of revealing the killer in a murder mystery with clues withheld from the reader, but it would have been nice to have had the same set of dots that Honey possessed.

That weakness noted, and this film has not been gathering great reviews, I enjoyed Honey Don’t with much of it dark and grisly humor working quite well for me. This movie is fairly explicit in the sex scenes, both the heterosexual encounters and the lesbian ones, so be aware of that when you watch it. Given that this is directed and co-written by half of the Coen Brothers team it has the collection of odd and offbeat characters one can expect from Ethan Coen but much more sexually explicit than the team tended to produce together.

This is not a film for everyone, its various plot threads do not eventually all resolve into a single narrative but rather appear more like ‘slice of life’ where life is criminal, corrupt and darkly comic. I do not consider it a waste of my time to have seen Honey Don’t in a theater but for many this may work perfectly well as a home experience.

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A Prequel I’d Be Interested in Seeing

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Prequel films are tricky beasts to pull off and make work well. Usually, they are the product of a studio’s endless hunger for more cash and are stuffed with fan service bits that often are needless fixation on minor production details of the original movie. I couldn’t care less about exactly how Han Solo got his distinctive blaster in Star Wars; the pistol is not what made Solo an interesting character.

If it is not trivial details of props or settings, then another issue that faces prequels is that it is difficult to chart the growth of the character. We know who the character is in the original source material, if we give them a dynamic and interesting character arc in the prequel then for much of that prequel’s run time we are not in company of the character we grew to love but rather a different person who became that beloved individual.

There is one cinematic character who if written, produced, and acted well I think would be fascinating to watch as they transform into the one we originally met, William ‘Will’ Munny from 1992’s award-winning film Unforgiven.

Warner Brothers Studios

David Webb Peoples’ script introduces the audience to Will Munny long after his criminal and murdering days are behind him. A widowed pig farmer trying to raise a pair of children following the death of his beloved Claudia from smallpox, Will is pressed back into the role of assassin for reward money posted by sex workers seeking justice after one of their own survives a brutal assault.

Will repeatedly reminds the people he travels with and the audience that he is not the man he used to be. His drunkenness, his cruelty to animals, his wanton and unpredictable violent manner were all ‘cured’ by Claudia. ‘He ain’t like that no more.’ However, when the events of the film finally push Will beyond his new self the old Will Munny, a vicious and sociopathic killer reemerges for the movies climatic finish. A postscript card at the film’s end lets us know that Will once again returned to a peaceful life, the one Claudia brought him into, and not the one of murder and robbery she saved him from.

The prequel I want to see is the story of how Claudia changed Will Munny. The picture drawn of Will in days before her influence both by Will himself and those who knew him is one of such vast violence and bad temper it is hard to imagine the situation that brought Claudia and Will together much less how this apparently loving and peaceful woman induced such a powerful transformation.  I have no idea if Peoples ever worked out any sort of detailed backstory for Will and Claudia but man it fascinates me to no end.

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The End (of my novel) is in Sight

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While I had hoped to get writing done at last week’s World Science Fiction Convention, the stress of the unhappy events made that nearly impossible. Oh, I managed to complete a scene I was in the middle of with an additional 600 or so words written during one session, but that was the sum total of my writing during the five days.

Yesterday, back at my day job, at lunch I got down 800 words on the next scene, and I can feel the narrative moving again. With this act nearly completed and only one act remaining, I can see the end of the manuscript, and I should reach it before September is done.

That leaves a lot of work yet to be done on it, though. This is the only novel that I have written by the seat of my pants, no list of characters and their traits, no outline showing all the major events, I just sat down and started the thing with scarcely any idea of where it was heading. That means that there is a lot of ‘reconstruction’ to do once I reach the end. For example, I now have a much clearer concept of the story’s themes, community being one of them. The communities that betray you and the ones that defend you has emerged as an element of the plot. It is also about outsiders to the wider culture and the insiders, and how that dynamic puts pressure on the individual. All of this I had no conception of when the first words hit the page, and now the revisions much strengthen and elaborate on these ideas.

Still, with luck and determination, I may have a completed novel ready before the end of the year.

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A Little More WorldCon

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So, here is a bit of the vacation that went well.

The World Science Fiction Convention, WorldCon, had loads of good and interesting programming. Over the five days of the convention, I primarily attended panel discussions on horror (both prose and film), space science, and writing strategies.

The Con was well-run and well-organized, taking place in the Seattle Summit convention center, a massive building with five floors and loads of open-air spaces. The convention program was available on the app ‘Guidebook,’ which allowed users to browse the offerings, mark which were part of their personal schedule, and then add those panels and events to the calendars on their phones. This made it easy for my sweetie-wife and me to stay in the loop about each other’s panels.

Also, unlike some conventions, there was adequate cell coverage throughout the center, so there was never an issue with not being able to get a text to someone to arrange dinners and the like.

The con committee also deployed an interesting, if not entirely ready-for-prime-time, bit of tech to help members who suffered from hearing issues. Each room had a monitor that displayed live text of the panelists’ discussion. The AI tech employed did not always understand the words, particularly if they were from a foreign language or were unusual, and in those cases it guessed wrongly, but overall, I think it was a boon for any hearing-impaired fans.

Now, the convention is history, my vacation has ended, and in just a few minutes I will be returning to my day job and wading through an outlandish number of emails that await me.

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A Vacation of Woe and Wonder

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From August 12th through the 17th, I was on vacation from the day job and enjoying my first World Science-Fiction Convention since 2018. Sadly, while the convention itself was quite nice, with nearly every hour presenting me with multiple panels that I wanted to attend and having to sacrifice panel time just to have dinner with my sweetie-wife, the entire time was also the most stressful vacation I have taken.

We flew from San Diego to Seattle on Alaska Airlines, using miles accumulated on my credit card to reduce the cost of the flight to mere taxes. While transitioning through TSA security I screwed up royally but was unaware of the mistake until I deplaned at SeaTac in Washington. I discovered that I had left my wallet, with all of my identification, and my key ring at the security checkpoint in San Diego.

Thanks to Apple Pay, I was not without the ability to pay for things and could function at the convention, but the loss of the wallet weighed heavily on my mind for the entire duration of the convention.

Every morning I telephoned Lost and Found at the San Diego Airport and every morning their answer remained unchanged, no wallet, no keys. I researched how did TSA deal with this issue as I could not be the only person who had some terrible event cause them to lose all of their identification while traveling. TSA deals with it, I learned, by additional security screening, but it is not assured that you will pass it and be allowed to fly. So again, for the duration of my vacation my mind was bedeviled with the possibility that at SeaTac I would be turned away and have to find an alternate method of getting home. Amtrak had only sleeper remaining with costs of over a thousand dollars and Greyhound reported travel times of more than 48 hours.

I was so stressed that in the evenings instead of socializing at the open room parties, after my sweetie-wife retired for the night, I would just go to the hotel lobby and watch videos on my laptop.

The final morning of the convention, not only did Lost and Found not have my missing items, but a neighbor texted to alert us that my car had been broken into, the passenger window smashed with glass scattered everywhere.

Luckily, I made it through TSA enhanced screening and boarded the flight for home, though the flight was delayed a good twenty minutes, so we only got back into our home about 9:00 pm instead what of I had hoped for something more like 8:30pm.

My brilliant sweetie-wife produced spare keys for my car, our front door, and our mailbox. I took my Kia Soul to the dealer to have them replace the smashed window, but they wanted an astounding $1200 for that repair and that amount I was not going to pay. I found an independent service who was able to schedule an on-site fix for my car the next day, today, and do the job for under $300.

So today, I have finally, mostly, rebuilt and recovered from the disaster of losing my wallet and keys. Though a few more issues and details need to be addressed, I am ready to return to work in the morning and put this stressful ‘vacation’ behind me.

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Not The Best Day

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Yesterday, Tuesday, was by far not my best day. The night before I found it impossible to get decent restorative sleep, waking constantly throughout the night, suffering nightmares, and finding the air from my CPAP machine had suddenly become far too warm and wet.

It was no surprise that when my alarm sounded to rouse me for a day of work and writing, it brought me into a raging migraine headache.

I called in to the day-job, took my medications, and waited for nine hours for the pills to finally quell the headache. They normally get it done in two hours, but this stress-induced attack proved stubbornly resistant.

Needless to say, in addition to missing a day of work, I got nothing done on my novel, which only made me feel emotionally even worse.

I still have high hopes of completing the first draft, this very rough draft, by the end of September and perhaps having a completed manuscript before the end of the year—provided the evil migraine demons are not too vigorous in their assaults.

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Star Trek: Strange New Worlds Episode — A Space Adventure Hour

CBS Studios

Credit: Paramount Pictures

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Let me say that in general, and with the exception of a single episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation (Hollow Pursuits,) I detest stories centered on the damned holodeck. In order to make the story have any stakes at all and to avoid the dreaded trope of “it was all a dream,” something has to go disastrously wrong so that the ship is in terrible danger, and the safety features have to fail so disastrously that the troublesome piece of equipment cannot simply be turned off.

Putting a holodeck episode into Strange New Worlds is particularly offensive. The damned thing was new when it would be installed in the Galaxy-class cruisers some 80 years later—so new that Data had to instruct Riker on what the room actually was.

Wait, someone might be screaming: weren’t you the person for whom canon is more like a guideline than a rule? Yes, I said I don’t mind breaking canon to create a good story, but that is a very high bar for a holodeck-centered tale to clear.

So, we have one of my favorite characters, La’an, thrown into a fictionalized setting and plot while the rest of the crew faces death due to the poor engineering of the device. The episode was meant to give us a deeper look into the Spock/La’an relationship, but with a story—the murder mystery—that has no stakes and a B-plot that is predetermined to resolve happily (no way the Enterprise is getting crushed or cooked by a neutron star), the episode is left with absolutely no tension or drama.

Add to that the fact that the story La’an is thrown into takes serious time to puff up the chests of Star Trek writers by proclaiming how special the entire enterprise was for ’60s television, and you have a self-important, narcissistic piece of writing that has all the emotional depth of a dry riverbed.

Don’t get me wrong—Star Trek, in the ’60s particularly, was very important and has had a profound cultural impact, but to take time out of your own script to crow about your own important influence is just downright tacky. It is the job of others to analyze the effect and influence of a piece of art, not the creative artists themselves.

The most enjoyable aspects of episode three of season three were watching Anson Mount have tremendous fun burying himself in yet another role and hearing Jess Bush get to deliver some lines in her native accent. Aside from that, watching the episode was a chore.

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