Dialogue of the Day

"One morning, over at Elizabeth's beach house, she asked me if I'd rather go water-skiing or lay out. And I realised that not only did I not want to answer THAT question, but I never wanted to answer another water-sports question, or see any of these people again for the rest of my life."

From "Bottle Rocket" (dir. Wes Anderson, 1996)

More Master

So, last night I stumbled upon the new trailer for my most highly anticipated film of 2012, Paul Thomas Anderson's "The Master". The first one got me leaping and spinning like a cat to a yarn ball just out of reach. However, it basically just focused on a deranged-looking Joaquin Phoenix. This latest one features the mighty Philip Seymour Hoffman as Lancaster Dodd a "world war II veteran who starts his own religion in 1950's America". Sound familiar? If you're at all familiar with Scientology, then it should.

Because yes folks, despite all the denials coming from all associated with the film, it is clearly at least loosely based on that kooky bunch. As evidenced here by Hoffman declaring himself "a writer, a doctor, a nuclear physicist, a theoretical philosopher etc". Again, anyone familiar with the works of L. Ron Hubbard knows the parallels. Simply put, this film just gets weirder with every new bit of footage released and I, for one, could not be more intrigued...

Also, on the movie front, I had the pleasure of seeing not one but two of the best films I've seen in a while. The first was the George Clooney starring "The Descendants". Now, this film has certainly had it's detractors (my missus being one, declaring it..."shit") despite all of the award season acclaim,  so I went into it not expecting much. I thought it was amazing. Yes, it's a bit ponderous, yes they could have easily cut 15 minutes out and not missed a thing but it was by FAR my favourite Clooney performance and the film as a whole made me laugh, cry and contemplate my existence for several hours afterwards. Always a good thing.

Then I went and saw Wes Anderson's (no relation to Paul Thomas) new flick "Moonrise Kingdom". I generally like Wes Anderson films, but they always get bogged down in 'quirkiness' for me to consider any of them a favourite. Apart from "Bottle Rocket", which is the bollocks. "Moonrise Kingdom", on the other hand, was a pleasant surprise. It certainly had plenty of quirk, but the story (about two 12-year olds falling in love and running away) was a wonderful depiction of what it's like to be stupidly in love. Plus the cast was first-rate. Ed Norton playing a scout master? Brilliant. Also, Bill Murray was fecking hilarious. More so than usual in fact, which is quite a feat for him. What an absolute legend that man is. However, special mention must go to the two leads who were both brilliant, this being despite the fact that they were 12, and despite the fact I usually hate child actors (apart from the Culkin, obviously....and The Goonies....and that kid from There Will Be Blood...actually the only ones I hate are the twins from Harry Potter. So I take that back)

Hurrah!

JB.

One Season to Rule Them All

Greetings Earthlings,

Once again this blog seems to have fallen down the to the very bottom of my importance ladder. I do have an excuse this time, I have been busy with finishing up the old film business, as in - getting it finished, doing all the promotional malarkey and getting ready for a festival run (all going well of course). Plus the Euro's have been on.

New film poster:  mildly offensive.

So far most of my time and effort has been on the promotional side of things, which in all honesty I am completely at pain to do. It's just not in my nature to go "hey guys, look at my fecking amazing film", however, all careers are filled with at least some unpleasant work and, as unpleasant work goes, this really isn't that bad. For the record, bagging up plates in a darkened room for 7 hours a day, is. Or indeed selling bowling promotions door to door. I know, I did both. However, I now have promotional flyers, business cards, a facebook page and I've painted the side of my flat with a mural of myself saying "Are you missing out on the wonder that is John Byford?" so I'm pretty well sorted on the 'whoring myself out' side of things.

All jokes aside, I'm sure all of this effort will pay off. Indeed it will have it's first chance this coming weekend where I will be jetting off to the Palm Springs Film Festival. My film is in the market there, entitling me (and guest) a free pass to the festival and cheap hotel rooms galore. Marvelous. It should be interesting, despite being 110 degrees every day, and at the very least it'll be good to spend some time among like-minded dreamers (see: mentalists). At the very most? Who knows. Apparently this 'market' I'm in is a hotbed of industry types looking for new talent. I'm certainly new so half of their requirement is met already. Hurrah.

Also, it will give me great pleasure to be handing out flyers with the word "Twat" emblazoned across it. It's the little things in life, eh?

My final hope for this weekend is that I meet some people who will help get my feature off the ground. I've been pursuing this venture in earnest of late, making small but significant dents in the pre-production process and it's starting to look like an actual possibility, which frankly excites me beyond belief. A trip back to England will hopefully be needed soon. Fingers crossed.

I should probably also mention that I received an email from another film festival head personally saying that they "loved" my short and look forward to meeting me. I wanted to scream "does that mean I'm in then you vague bastard?!" but luckily thought better of it. Again, at the very least, it's all very flattering. It's weird though, while people are finally beginning to see the film and the supposed 'payoff' stage for all the hard work is close by, in my mind, I am completely over it. Not in a negative way. It's just that when you work on something for so long, when it's 'finished' your mind immediately moves on to the next project. I suppose because now you know twice as much as before and you're ready to make a film twice as good. That and the fact that I've probably watched a 14-minute film about 900 times. Regardless, a strange but very pleasant phenomenon.

Peace and Love,

JB.

Classic Albums: Astral Weeks

Now, obviously I'm not the first person to sing the praises of this record. Pick up just about any 'Top Albums of All Time' list and you'll be certain to see this one riding pretty high. However, such it the absolute breathtaking beauty of this album, I shall anoint it nonetheless.

Van Morrison, an enigma at the best of times, was at the beginning of his musical career. He had just penned the Essex-wedding staple, "Brown Eyed Girl", and should, by rights, have been a star. However, as the music industry sometimes has a habit of doing, he was instead handcuffed to a Draconian contract and absolutely flat broke. Threatened with deportation back to his native Belfast, he ended up marrying his girlfriend at the time and scratching a living playing grubby little dive bars around New York and Boston. Until, one day, he came in contact with a producer from Warner Bros. Records (at the time known for being artist friendly, as opposed to money-at-all-costs friendly) who was moved to tears upon hearing the title track and declared "I didn't know what it was, I just knew I wanted to be a part of that sound". Thus they agreed to make an album.

Holed up in a New York recording studio, they rounded up a handful of accomplished musicians and recorded the whole album in two days. Yep, two days. An achievement in itself, but what makes this even more interesting is that Van didn't tell the musicians a thing about what they were doing. Their only instruction being "just do what you feel". So Van played the guitar and sang, the others kept up. The end result is astonishing.

What follows is one of the most evocative, passionate, soulful 45 minutes you'll ever hear. There is not a chorus in sight, there is often the ear-piercing Irish wail that he has been unable to match since, there are tales of heartbreak, death, happiness, love and all else in between. The entire thing just pours out of this 23-year old kid (when I was 23 I barely knew how to tie my shoelaces!) and you can't help but get dragged along for the ride. From the opening title track to the mournful "Slim Slow Slider" this album  gets you on a level that's not really even musical after a while. You just have to forget the world you know exists for a bit and feel the man sing. For that reason alone, this ranks as easily one of my favorite records of all time. So, if you so desire, give it a listen. I guarantee that everything you listen too after will seem shiny, plastic and marginally shite in comparison.


Van Morrison - Sweet Thing


Peace and Love,

JB.