Cyber Land

So….let's talk the internet. Now, if the hilarious musical "Avenue Q" is to be believed, then the internet is solely for one thing: porn. I myself have spent many years researching this matter and while I can safely say that I haven't used it solely for porn…you get my point.

However, these days there is another use for the internet, besides making my mother ashamed of me, and that use is a new and strange phenomenon called "online distribution". It is a brave new world and one that I (we) have been exploring vigorously of late. To give you, the reader, some context; what happened is that my cohorts and I made the informed decision to release Starving In Hollywood online on the most miserable of days (speaking only for myself, of course), Valentine's Day. Thus somewhat conceding to the fact that TV execs aren't exactly beating down our door to put our show on telly and make us rich beyond our wildest dreams. Indeed, so low had the bar been lowered that I would've settled for a few likes on Facebook and maybe a 'well done, lad' from my Nan.

I digress.

Then, wouldn't you know it, right at the death our trailer came across some eyes, impartial eyes, eyes that weren't from my friends or family or people on my twitter account. These eyes liked what they saw and wanted more. So we sent over the first episode and the owner of these eyes liked that even more. Long story short, this blessed soul took mercy on us and vowed to put us in touch with "online distribution companies" who would, apparently, be interested in this sort of thing. Obviously it's all to be taken with a pinch of salt at this point but I can't tell you how gratifying it feels to have someone you've never met tell you that you're doing good work.

Anyway, the part about online distribution I don't quite yet understand is this: how does one make money off of it, exactly? TV it seems relatively straight-forward enough - you sign a contract, you get paid. Regardless of viewing figures. If people aren't watching, you get sacked. But you still got paid and at least you're not a complete failure. However, with this inter web malarky the path seems less clear. For example, if you put a video of yourself hilariously dancing naked in front of a white wall so we can only see your shadow (a mate of mine actually did this) and that video "goes viral" - as they say - then you only begin to make money if you get a certain number of hundreds of thousands of views and even then the proceeds are minimal. However, I suppose, that's where these companies come in and help. Unbeknownst to me, there is an actual science to getting things seen online - actual algorithms and such - a modern day, covert-style art to this stuff. Begs the question, is it morally wrong to manipulate the system, also begs the question - do I actually care?

The fact of the matter is that times are a-changin'. The way we consume content has gone from TV, Cinema, Home Movie to phone, laptop, tablet etc etc etc. As Netflix have gloriously proven, it means the rules are changing - hopefully for the better - and upstart little oiks like myself may finally have the voice we've so longed for. Without, necessarily, the typical corporate structure. Maybe I'm getting all romantic about the idea based on a flicker of a prayer, or maybe we just might be on to something. Who knows, my friends. Who knows?

I've sort of lost my point, I think - that's what chronic insomnia and alcohol will do to you - which was that good news may be on the way. If we do sign with one of these companies, there is potential to make money off what we did and, more excitingly, development money to do more. This news is better than a kick in the gonads, let me tell you. I've tried both. So, our release date is postponed indefinitely while we await further meetings, and potential contract negotiations. All of this, of course, could still amount to nothing. As I say though, at this stage in the game, any help will do.

Also, I'm almost finished with my new short film. Here's a teaser for it. If one more person tells me it's like the Coen Brothers I'm going to go mad. Only joking, of course, that's about the highest praise I've ever had. From anyone. Ever. Enjoy.

Peace and love.

JB

New Stuff

So, what on earth have I been up to? I hear you ask.

Well, the journey with "Starving In Hollywood" continues. Negotiating the murky waters of the industry has been an interesting and extremely frustrating experience. In this day and age, methods of distribution are apparently changing by the second. Depending on who you talk to, TV - as we know it - is a thing of the past, and the future lies with the internet. Increasingly, us humans are watching content on laptops, on netflix, on phones, on iPads etc etc. so online streaming is bigger than ever. All of which should play precisely into our hands, right? Surely we can just put our show on youtube and reap the spoils after millions of people tune in and enjoy? Well, apparently not. As the things that do well on youtube are things like "cat jumps over gate" (which is, admittedly, fecking hilarious). There seems to be a solid marketing path for show concepts, pilots or pitches, however finished content - such as ours - seems to be all dressed up with nowhere to go. Which is annoying, to say the least. My logic would dictate that having something finished is better than having an idea not yet begun, but then again, what do I know?

Therefore the best option remains, at this moment in time, trying to negotiate the Iron Wall of the Managers/Agents/Production Companies and hoping that somehow, some way, someone may take a passing interest enough to go "I like it, here's some money". Stay tuned, friends.

To cheer myself up, I embarked on something I said I'd never do, which is make another short film. However, when the opportunity came around, the people involved on the production side and what they would bring to the table for little to no cost made me instantly change my mind. The result was the filming of a script that I'd had written for a few years now called "Head-Side Up". Here's a poster for it…

The shoot itself was the best one I have ever had, and certainly, by far, my best experience as a director. For the first time in a long time, I felt at ease, in total command of the form, and enjoying every second of it. I think a large part of this feeling comes purely from experience - which dictates how long you should schedule, which locations to use, what lighting schemes you like, how to handle set-backs (an absolutely inevitability) and the best way to work with actors, which I basically find is giving them a nice, relaxed, environment to let them do their work. A large part also comes from having the right crew around you which, for the first time ever, I did. That is why, folks, it pays to get out and work because, by doing so, you accumulate the good people and sift out the…not so good ones. At the risk of sounding like a capitalist pig, I can't tell you how much easier my job is when you know everyone around you is doing theirs. Marvelous stuff and certainly pretty integral to the film-making process, which is hard enough as it is. This project also marked the first time that I directed without also being an actor in the film, which again made life a great, great deal easier and was equally satisfying. Fun times all round, really.

Also, I've been hired to edit multiple projects over the past few months. All of which have gone absolutely swimmingly. In fact, editing continues to be endless source of fascination for me. It really is remarkable what you can do. You can turn a good performance bad and a bad one good in a matter of frames. So, any actors (female mainly) out there remember to give your editor (me) a nice, healthy blow job at the start of every project and things will turn out just fine. In fact, such is the importance of editing, you can actually turn a good film bad, or indeed make a bad one good - well, reasonable maybe - so the same rule applies to all you directors (female) out there also. I even edited an editing reel. And here it is…

Other than that, I've just been keeping my head down, my chin up, and my lyrics on point. If I think of anything else interesting I've done, I'll let you know. Don't hold your breath.

Much love to everyone for your continued support and interest in this here writing space.

Cheers,

John.

Billy No Mates

"Oh, you've got a TV show? That's great"

So friends, here we are again. Stuck in the endless merry-go-round that is the entertainment industry complex. This is now my third time at the rodeo, as they say, and it gets no easier. In fact quite the opposite.

Last year, when doing the film festival circuit with my short film "Love Is...", I found myself at one of those panel Q&A sessions. The people on stage consisted of various actors, filmmakers and - most pertinently to this post - agents. Of course, a variety of shameless hacks in the crowd bombarded the agents with all manner of questions in the vein of "will you please watch my film?" or "will you please sign me?" or "will you please be godfather to my only child?" etc. So embarrassing was this relentless medieval-style baying that one agent eventually intervened and said "Listen, let me just say this. All of the time and energy and effort you guys are seemingly putting into getting an agent, instead put it into creating good shit. If you make something good, trust me we will find you"

Those words hit me like a pick-axe to the testes. At a time when I was feeling completely bewildered by the whole film festival thing, this saint came along and told me exactly what I always hoped in my heart would be true. You don't have to be a marketing genius, or indeed a silver-tongued door to door salesman, to succeed in this industry. It is, after all, about the art. I mean just look at all my heroes, they didn't sell their souls to the devil and they turned out just fine. In the everlasting words of "Field of Dreams" -- if you build it, they will come. Right?

Someone order a group of bell-ends?

Turns out that was a load of bollocks, and here's why...(Note: there's no way of writing the following without sounding bitter so please just rest assured that I'm not). The reviews thus far for "Starving In Hollywood" have been nothing short of spectacular. Literally everyone who has seen it has nothing but glowing things to say. From friends and family to industry veterans, the response has been the same - "I can't wait to see this on TV". However, the journey one must take from obscurity to...um...scurity(?) is a strange and twisted one, my friends. If I were a musician, it seems relatively simple. I write good songs. I play those good songs to people. I will be actively sought out by record companies who rely on new talent to keep the cash cow churning. I will be advanced money to record an album. I will tour extensively. I will thus have a career. Or at least the beginning of one. Do Film & TV reps have a similar philosophy as to unearthing new talent? Apparently not.

Instead, there seems to be an ever-growing wall of Mordor-type thing happening. By which I mean that if you are a nobody - which, at last count, I definitely am - then no-one gives a shit about you or anything you've done. We've tried calling producers, agents, tv networks and it's always the same: "(Fill in blank) does not accept unsolicited material. Now fuck off and have a nice life". Because the problem is, when swimming in the murky waters of the unsolicited, by default you are instantly lumped in with everything else floating around with you. I'm not putting our stuff on top of anybody else's, my point is merely that for anyone coming out of the pool, it's already a 'no' by virtue of where your material came from. However, if I'm soandsowhatshisname and I present my latest 'sidesplitting' venture, merely because of who I am, I am indeed now 'solicited'. This only confirms what I had previously written about here and here. If you get an in, you're laughing. Your stock instantly goes up about twelve-fold and whatever your peddling (in our case, abortion jokes and paper mache shark heads) is instantly met with not disdain and trepidation but with glee and giddy-eyed anticipation. The question, the dilemma me and my partners are currently facing, is...how do we go from no-one to someone?

Climb me...I dare you

Especially when all avenues seem to be a figure-eight scalectrix track of rejection. TV networks don't accept material unless it comes from an agent. Agents don't accept materials unless coming from a production company. Production companies don't accept material unless from an agent and, oh wait, I'm back where I started again. It is a very weird, surreal position to be in, and one which I am finding it most difficult to negotiate. I feel like a sperm frantically head butting away at the egg, watching all the millions of other sperms doing exactly the same thing and hoping to christ that I can burrow inside first.

However, this is the point. In every artist's, or creative-type's, career there comes a time when you have to strap on a pair and do the dirty work. It would be so easy for me to move on to the next creative endeavor. It'll be fun, keep me busy, and be another beautiful adventure to embark on. The problem with that philosophy is, however, that when done with that project, you're back to exactly the point you were before. You're still in the unsolicited pile and now a couple of years older and greyer. All you've succeeded in doing is turning a potential career into an actual hobby. Therefore, now is as good a time as any to get out there and do the awkward, uncomfortable, downright rubbish, part of trying to coerce people into parting with their hard-earned cash to take a chance on you and your project. No easy task but an abundantly necessary one.

Onwards and...onwards, my good people.

JB.

Only God Forgives

Well well well, so it transpires that I have just watched what may be the most bonkers film I've laid eyes on in my life. Nicolas Windig Refn's follow-up to 2011's ultra cool, ultra violent, Ryan Gosling starring "Drive" is an even cooler, even more violent Gosling re-teaming and the results are quite astonishing.

Dialogue? No thanks.

Now, call me crazy but I am bored to tears with the same old tentpole, superhero, generic bollocks that studios are churning out these days (Avengers, I'm looking at you). It seems more than ever that the divide between box-office success and good films is becoming inescapably large. Edgy, innovative, original content is being pushed further under the rug and loud noisy fanfare VFX shite is all over the place. I mean honestly, 'White House Down'? Do me a f*cking favour.

Thus it is my eternal pleasure to report on a film that made a point of grabbing hold of me by the proverbials, dragging me through the sand and refusing to let go. It made me squeam, made me squirm, made me laugh (unintentionally), made me cower, made me gasp and ultimately left me completely drained by the end. No real action to speak of, no noise, no special effects, no punchy dialogue (the entire script must've been about four pages long), the camera moves in an almost painfully slow, methodical way during each equally methodical scene, however this only goes to show that you need not the "ooo's" and "ahhs" typically associated with a movie-going experience to get something from it.

The plot is loosely based around a crime family operating out of Bangkok. Gosling, in mad silent mode, plays the youngest of three lunatic brothers who is charged with avenging one of their deaths. However, on the other side of the law is a man simply known as "The Angel of Death" who maraudes around the neon-drenched underworld handing out his own punishments to all who cross his path. The two are set on a collision course by Gosling's diabolical mother (played brilliantly by Kristen Scott Thomas) and there you have it. Pretty simple fare, right? Wrong.

Dream sequences, gruesome murders, torture, implied incest, completely random screaming and some first class battery are all shot and executed in such a way that completely blindsides you. It's like being in a terrible, terrible nightmare for 90 minutes, then being woken up by a lunatic singing karaoke. It is a completely brutal, unflinching portrayal of life in the underworld and has a claustrophobic, grim, blackness to it that I imagine people wrapped up in that side of life feel on a daily basis.

Refn is proving to be quite a master of his craft. I thought 'Drive' was basically a standard gangster plot but directed with such perfection that it elevated the film to a new level entirely. Something only a few people on earth are capable of. He does the same again here. The camera is smooth and steady. Every single frame is meticulously put together. The cinematography is absolutely outstanding -- possibly the best I've ever seen. Every shot looks like a painting. You could literally take any freeze frame from any scene and it would hang happily on your wall. The music is also great. At times very unsettling, at times pulsating, it subtly adds to the dread in the air quite beautifully.

"Wax on"....etc

When it premiered at Cannes this year, apparently half of the crowd booed and half gave it a standing ovation, and that really couldn't sum this film up more accurately. I can imagine many, many people thinking it's the worst film ever made, however, by the same token, I think if you appreciate cinema in any way, it'll be a treat that gets better with age. There are scenes which are beyond ridiculous (the dinner with mum and whore scene alone stands-out) but in the best possible way. It panders to no-one. Instead, Refn is just hanging his bollocks right there on the screen for all to see and screaming "have a load of that". Fair play, my friend. Fair play.

Much like last year's "Amour" I am completely shocked, appalled, and totally in awe of this piece of work. Also like "Amour", despite my love for it, I'm in no rush to ever see it again.

Over and out.

JB.

Starving In Hollywood - Trailer #2

Well, folks. Guess who drank too much coffee and did a new trailer in the twilight hours of yestermorn? Me. Enjoy.



Cheers,

JB.

Love Is... (Outtakes)

So, as my current my project inches towards completion, it took me back to Vimeo where I found this. Brought back some good memories.




Cheers,

JB.

Proper Ganda

So, away I have been once again from this here blog space. Largely because I'm getting a little sick of all the "anonymous" comments from Nigerians offering me free money and/or a penis enlargement. I'll tell you what I told them...it's fine the way it is, thanks. My money situation, I mean.

Anyway, so in my time away I managed to finally sit down and watch Kathryn Bigelow's "Zero Dark Thirty". Now, since it's release I have purposely avoided this film like the plague. This would be because, as anyone who cares to know me knows, I am staunchly against the politics involved in the whole sordid affair (if you care to know more, drop me an anonymous line offering penis goodies). 

So, against my better instincts and partially out of pure boredom, I decided to sit down and give it a whirl. For anyone who doesn't know, the plot is based entirely on the hunt and, ultimately, destruction of one Osama Bin Laden: bad guy numero uno of the last 10 years. 

For the entire first ten minutes I sat with my finger hovering over the stop button as some absolute moron mercilessly tortured a man for information while spouting absurdities like "everyone breaks, bro". I was appalled and so far, the film was exactly what I had first feared - nothing more than a piece of self-gratifying propaganda for the United States and their foreign policies. "Rah, rah, rah, aren't we all a jolly bunch of trained killers"-type stuff. 

Once the first ten minutes subsided, I found myself unwittingly swept along in the frankly quite pulsating storyline, told with absolutely expert direction by Bigelow (who, let's face it, knows how to make a film). By the end I was positively gnawing at my fingernails, such was the amount of tension that had built up in that time, this despite me knowing the end. Obviously. 

The performances were first class, the score brilliant and the cinematography pretty flawless, particularly in the final "storm the compound" sequence. As the credits rolled, I found myself taking it all back and declaring it one of the better films I'd seen in recent memory. Forget all the politics, murky moral waters and potential debate involved, that was just a bloody good yarn. It was sensitive to the material involved and overall a very well made film which wasn't exploitative at all. And, with that, off I went to live my vacant little life once again. 

However...when the clock struck late and I rested my head on the pillow a thought suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks and that thought went something like "OF COURSE IT IS!!!" 

You see, when engaging in any form of propaganda the key ingredient is for it not to look like you're engaging in propaganda. That's the whole point. In this day and age, and wise as people here in the US are, of course they're not going to back some ridiculous Bin Laden-baying gorefest directed by Paul Verhoven. No, that would be far too obvious. Of course, as Goebbels did in fascist Germany, you hire the best filmmakers to make the best film possible to further the agenda of those who want it furthered. Now, I'm not for a second comparing the US Government to Nazi Germany, I'm just saying, what better way than to document the murder of the boogeyman than to hire an Oscar-nominated director to adapt a best-selling novel into something that will most likely serve as 99.9% of people's account of what really happened the night OBL got smoked. 

Daniel Day Lewis said of his role in "Lincoln" that it gave him sleepless nights because he knew that for an entire generation of people, his portrayal of honest Abe would be the only one that people would ever know. It's true. When you ask people how Bin Laden went down, you'll think of a bunch of muscular, cool, wise-cracking Americans wiping him out with ease and panache. What you will not remember, nor ever care to actually find out is the truth. And why would you? You know what happened, you now know a spectacularly slick version of how A got to B, so why would anyone ever need to know, or care to know, anything more? Job done, and in a manner that George Orwell would be mighty proud of. 

As a method of propaganda, the film could not be more effective. It gleefully ignores the fact that women and other people (who are unknown) get casually shot in the face on the way to the end of the film. It joyously glides over the fact that some numpty gets choked, drowned and put in a small box, because they got what they needed. Delightedly it dances by the sheer facts of how many innocent, repeat innocent, women, children - and men for that matter - died in the search for this twat. Instead we find ourselves going..."Oooo, I hope Jessica Chastain doesn't get humiliated in her next meeting. She needs results, and quick". The absolute perfect distraction. Fuck, even I didn't care about the innocent souls lost in this fight by the end of the film...and I care...a lot! A masterful job by all involved.

Yes, the film was sensitive to the potential molotov cocktail of emotions that could be stirred by it. No, it wasn't half as "Rah, Rah" as it could have been but I think the makers (and backers) of this film were smart enough to know that it doesn't need to be any of those things. We already got him, we already celebrated. Let's just show everyone how we think they should think we did it. It's very existence is enough to permeate the minds of the masses in this country and will absolutely leave everyone who's seen it with at least a subliminal feeling of "America...fuck yeah". 

Maybe I'm a lefty, commie, nut. Maybe I'm the only sane man in the room. I don't know. The one thing I do know is that Baked Potatoes are delicious and mine just finished cooking. So we'll leave it there.

Cheers,

JB.

Bad Motherf*cker

This is, without question, the best short film I've seen in years. Absolutely mindblowingly good...especially seeing as I have completely no clue how on earth they did it. Bravo, sirs. Bravo.



JB.

New Poster

For my new sketch show. I did it on photoshop and it took me bloody ages so someone better leave me a comment stating how brilliant it is, or I might go on a rampage.

Cheers,

JB.

2013: An Absolute Belter (So Far)...

Well shaft me sideways with a blind man's stick, what a January that was. Of course a by-product of having such a wonderful month is the absolute lack of posting on this blog. However, last I checked, this fact had absolutely no impact on the daily life of anyone...so cest la vie really.

You got that right, random plane picture off Google Images

Upon returning to Satan's Playground, after the relaxed (see: eating and drinking myself into oblivion) happiness of being back home for Xmas, life has been a blur. I went straight back to work for a few days, then shot all weekend, then went back to work for a full week, then shot all weekend again, then booked a commercial, for which I had I to fly to Seattle for 4 days, then came home and got royally shitfaced. Santori times indeed.

First off I should report that we managed to finish principal photography on "Starving In Hollywood" - my beautifully insane little sketch show. Thus concluding one of the more stressful, challenging shoots I've ever embarked on. By the end of the second week (without having a day off) I was absolutely, mercilessly knackered beyond pale. However, the experience was completely and utterly worth it as we got more funny material in the can than I know what to do with. I've never worked with more talented actors. Everyone who came in to do even the smallest part was nothing short of magnificent - making already mildly offensive material positively appalling. I'd like to think this was down to the shrewdness of my directing skills, however I'm pretty sure it wasn't.

Also included in these two weekends was the most efficient day of shooting I've ever had at the helm of a project. Nothing makes me happier than starting the day with a schedule in hand, utterly terrified at what's ahead, only to then find that everything goes smoother than you ever could've imagined, you've got all the coverage you wanted and you're wrapped precisely when you intended to be. It makes a man realise that he may not be as incompetent as once feared - a feeling that is indescribably great, my friends.

Then came the commercial and a trip to Seattle. This marked the first time I had ever shot "on location" and I must say that it is something I could get used to, and get used to quite quickly. To be paid handsomely to travel to place you've never been is literally everything I've ever wanted in life. Indeed there was a moment when filming our twelfth hour of the first day, freezing my tits off in the pissing rain when a huge grin stretched it's way across my face and I thought "blimey, I'm in f*cking SEATTLE!!!". It didn't help the scene much, but felt good nonetheless. I can't even imagine doing something like "Lord of the Rings". I'd have a permanent woody, I think.

Seattle - they love a good market

Also, I can't begin to tell you what a relief it was to just be an actor on a shoot - literally for the first time in ages. The first few hours I found myself inadvertently fretting about how everything would cut together, or whether we were on schedule, or whether the continuity was working, or whether barking dogs would ruin takes or blah blah blah. Then suddenly I realised I had nothing to do with that and should just relax and focus on being all handsome and hilarious. So I did. Sort of. Anyway, the crew I worked with up there really were some of the loveliest people I've ever come across and the whole experience was one of the better ones I've had. To top it all off, I had almost a full day to myself before I left to go and explore the city. And what a beautful city it is. I can't be arsed to go all "Lonely Planet" and extoll it's virtues here - you want that shit, go elsewhere hombre - but I will simply say, in my simplest Essex slang, it was the absolute bollocks.

All in all, as the title suggests, 2013 has been pretty excellent so far. More to come hopefully. Until then, good people of the interweb, here's a song that I have not been able to get out of my head for the past ten days. Enjoy.

Peace,

JB.

P.S - The Superbowl....pile of shite. That is all.

More Frames...

So, this week I have managed to skulk myself into not one, but two free screenings of Christmas blockbusters - and by blockbusters I mean highly anticipated, mega-budget, 3-D spectaculars. The results, folks, have been interesting.

First up "The Hobbit". Now, I am a self-confessed Lord of the Rings maniac, therefore I could not have been wetter with anticipation over this film...at first. Now, as seems to always happen around the actual release time of a film I'm into, I found myself not being that fussed by the whole affair. I suddenly fell into the old "it's not gonna be as good as the first lot" way of thinking. However, last night, as soon as the opening titles began I found myself giddy as a lovesick schoolgirl. The rest of the three hours was absolute, open-mouthed, fan-boy bliss. I thought it was out-bloody-standing.

Except one thing.

For anyone who doesn't know, Peter Jackson decided to shoot the entire Hobbit Trilogy digitally at 48 frames per second. For anyone who doesn't know what on earth that means, the frame rate required to achieve live motion has always been traditionally 24fps, which of course came from film passing through light at a certain speed to achieve the art of "motion pictures". Shooting at twice the frame rate, in theory, should make the image clearer and almost entirely eradicate the problem of motion blur, which happens when cameras whip around too fast etc. One problem though, it looks terrible.

You see, I consider the first LOTR batch to be some of the most visually stunning films ever made. Not once did I, or do I, find myself thinking "god, if only this bloody motion blur wasn't there I'd be loving this". No, instead I just involuntarily let out the sound "weeeeeee" at various intervals. But there were long stretches of The Hobbit where I found myself removed from the action purely because of the 48 frames thing. Some action sequences look exactly, and I mean EXACTLY, like a video game. A massive disappointment.

The upside of this shooting format was the actual act of camera motion. When it moves, you really do move with it (as apparently evidenced by the amount of people complaining of motion sickness at advanced screenings) which, I must admit, is quite a thrill. I just wish people would stop relying on gimmicks or technological tricks to tell a story. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Upon leaving the cinema, my first thought was "I would love to see that again, at 24 frames and NOT in 3-D"

However, there is another side to that argument and that side is represented by Ang Lee's "Life of Pi". Again, after seeing the trailer, my ignorant idiot side immediately dismissed this film as 'green-screen shite' and I had no desire to see it whatsoever. As luck would have it though, I got into a free screening on Monday night. I was mildly curious purely for the fact that A) it was Ang Lee, who is a bloody good director and B) I couldn't remember the last time I went into a film knowing absolutely nothing about it. What followed completely blew my little mind.

This was also in 3-D (only the second film I'd ever watched in that format) and immediately I realised I was in for a treat. From the opening shot this film is a visual feast. From there it goes on to be one of the most spectacular things I've ever seen in the cinema, if not the most. I have never seen anything like it. At night I closed my eyes and still had the sensation of being in the ocean. Incredible. Of course it helped that the story was fascinating and the lead performance (from an unknown Indian kid) was nothing short of brilliant.

But that's my point, see. I knew I had one. My point is that technology is all well and good if used correctly. In the case of Peter Jackson, the technology as hand was used magnificently to create Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit needed not anything beyond that. Because all the technology in the world can't save a bad story (George Lucas, I'm looking at you...) but it can help a good one massively, like Life of Pi, but the story should never be the special effects, which it was with Avatar, it is with all the Transformers shithouses and almost became with The Hobbit. Point is, the story should always come first. Yes, that was me - a so far unproven talent of any kind - berating some of the more successful directors in history. You did read that right and I am aware of the 'those in glass houses' theory. However, it's my bloody blog and I'll say what I want!

I'm off to play with my precious.

JB.

Mired In Muck

Good day fellow Earth dwellers,

Once again (and I'm aware there is a recurring theme developing here) this blog has been sorely neglected, leaving my hordes of salivating fans hungry and desperate for new material. So, to the many thousands of you that have been in contact with not just myself but the world's media, I wholeheartedly apologise. However, in my defence, it has been a very busy time. When I'm not editing reels for the actors of this town, I am home and editing our sketch show - the mighty "Starving In Hollywood". Now, when writing and creating said show, I thought "oh, this will be easy, each item will be a pleasurable summer's breeze to edit. Then it will be simply a matter of putting them side by side and Robert's your mother's brother". This has proven to NOT be the case.

Never trust your television, kids. 

You see, when creating fake reality shows, games shows, commercials, music videos, news reports etc etc etc I had sorely neglected the need for Motion Graphics. Motion Graphics? What the feck is that? I hear you hark. Well, friends, it is essentially the combination of visual arts, animation and sound design which is, to my feeble brain, an abominable nightmare to edit. You see, it's not like editing a film, which is difficult enough, where there is a single narrative, and merely a manipulation of image and sound to create a story. Here you are doing that EVERY SINGLE TIME you begin a new sketch. Each one requires an almost ungodly amount of title cards, animated images, flashy, snazzy cuts, and all manner of visual and audio special effects.

A good, healthy, political debate

Some people reading that may think...piece of piss, what's he complaining about?...and to that I say, CALL ME. With immediate effect, as someone who actually knows how to do this stuff would be wonderful. However, as you might expect, these Motion Graphics chaps are in high demand and very short supply. So the burden has mostly fell on the shoulders of yours truly. Now, I'm not saying I mind, but yet again I find myself hopelessly in over my head and learning everything on the fly. The good thing is that it is all learnable and all of it is learnable in the bowels of youtube, where any question I may have is swiftly answered by a 12 year-old with a nifty "how to" video. Indeed it has been these interactions with the younglings of the interweb (take that how you will) which have slowly restored my faith in humanity. I think it speaks to the very best of human nature that these people spend hours toiling away finding out how to decipher this stuff, then have the good grace to put their findings online for simpletons like me to borrow and learn from. Those people should be the fibre of our society and lauded as such.

Perfectly normal...

The good news at the end of all this is that we are getting closer and closer to having a rather excellent series on our hands (at least...it makes me laugh) and something that will stand forever. I suppose that's the beauty of art isn't it? No matter how much toil and tyranny one suffers in creating it, when it's done, it's there forever - a capsule in time. It matters not that that time capsule may feature items such as "Willy Circus", "Dingo vs. Baby" and "Little Abortion Annie" it is still a time capsule nonetheless.

Love and other shite.

JB.

Behind The Curtain

Greetings one and all (or, more likely, just one). It has been a while and we have lots to catch up so cut right to the chase.

My life of leisure has come to an end, unfortunately. Meaning, to anyone who doesn't know or doesn't care to, that I have had to get a job once again. The pleasure of living off a commercial has dried up and I am back in the world of the working man. To be fair, the transition hasn't been half as painful as I feared it might be - largely due to the fact that I have a really fun job. Basically I edit reels for actors (see: mainly REALLY attractive women) which is most rewarding and has helped my editing chops no end.

More important than that though was the very recent Hollywood Film Festival which was yet another dose of absolute insanity for yours truly. It began with the screening on Sunday, which was fine. However I find it absolutely unforgivable that a cinema as prestigious as the Arclight could get away with such colossally shite projection. I'm not talking about "oh, it's a bit loud" here, either. The poor people involved with the first film in my program must've felt absolutely dreadful afterwards. Half of their entire film was off the screen - literally the lead actress was cut out of half the film. I would have thrown a major tantrum if that happened to us. Luckily it didn't. What did happen to us was that they began by having it cranked way too loud (which I was secretly loving as most films benefit from such volume), they then realised their mistake and turned it down too fucking low! This coming after there was a problem with every single film before ours. Shocking form. As if it isn't hard enough to clamber your way up the industry ladder...

I digress.

That said, I must say that seeing my film screening at my (now former) favourite cinema was an absolute treat. I felt minor nerves, if any at all, and actually managed to watch my film for the first time without an impending sense of doom coursing through my veins. Instead, as we sat there watching it unfold, I felt a tremendous sense of pride and excitement the likes of which I haven't felt before. When your film is playing in a massive darkened room full of people, it suddenly takes on a life of it's on. You can feel the atmosphere in the room. Friends, it is truly a fecking amazing thing to experience and I can't recommend it highly enough....if you're into that sort of thing. Lot's of people came and offered well wishes afterwards so all in all it went rather well, if I do say so myself. I certainly handled the whole thing a lot better so that is a victory in itself, surely?

Now, as Director of a competing film in the festival, one is privvy to certain benefits. The best one being four VIP Tickets to the next evening's Hollywood Film Awards Gala. I didn't really know what, or indeed who, to expect at this event. Indeed I didn't know what it was until some producer told me that a very rich man essentially wants to be part of "the club" so he throws an annual awards ceremony at the Beverly Hilton for celebrities to bask in their own glory one more time. From that description, I predicted a bottom-feeder Kardashian-fest and began plotting ways to spoil everyone's evening (note: all of my plans involved fecal matter)

However, when we arrived at the Hilton, nothing prepared me for what happened next. Screaming fans. Paparazzi flashes. Velvet Ropes. Red Carpets and general mania engulfed us. A proper Hollywood Event, for want of a better phrase. The peasant in me instantly thought we were in the wrong place and almost stopped the cabbie before he'd gone too far. However, to the entrance we went and, inexplicably, entrance was granted. The rest of the evening was a complete whirl of mega-famous people (including at least three absolute idols of mine...and I do mean idols), lots of free booze and generally feeling like being in an anonymous David-Blaine box with the best view to the weirdest party on earth. Sat at our reserved table, watching this mad, nonsensical award-ceremony unfold before us, I couldn't help thinking "how on earth did this happen?"...home felt a long, long way away. Still, happen it did and I am proud to say that our crew were the last to leave the venue by at least half an hour and we managed to steal multiple bottles of wine, bouquets, menus, programmes and food. Class all the way.

I've been attempting to find some meaning to this whole affair, if only to provide a conclusive paragraph to this post. Yet somehow I can't find the words. Maybe there is no meaning. Maybe sometimes you've just got to sit back and consider yourself a lucky boy to be part of the absurdity. That I do, my good people. That I do.

Peace and love.

Juan.

Quote Of The Day

"Look into the eyes of a chicken and you will see real stupidity. It is a kind of bottomless stupidity, a fiendish stupidity. They are the most horrifying, cannibalistic and nightmarish creatures in the world"

-- Werner Herzog

So Close, Yet...

So, a week after a spectacular "Master" related five days and the hangover has officially set in. As I've mentioned previously on these here pages, one of the most difficult aspects of pursuing a career in "the arts" is the comedown. Typically this is directly related to the joys of creation. As in, the tangible joy you feel when creating something you love is soon a distant memory after it's finished. Like any good boozing session, the fallout will carry you through a couple of days but, silently and potently, reality will eventually set back in, usually upon receiving a pile of bills. Thus begins the hangover phase.

This time however it was different. For I was not creating anything. Even worse, I was there, and I mean right there, with those that had created and created at the highest level....right, I'll stop being cryptic....being around famous, successful people made me feel worryingly good and I am thoroughly disliking being relegated back to lowly piss-ant status. There, I said it.

You see, in the film industry, one of the chief perks of being successful - be it as an Actor, Director, Writer, Editor, Producer, whatever - is that you simply just get better treatment than everyone else. It's a painful truth, folks, but having seen it first hand it is a truth nonetheless. Everything is free, you get to go where you please, do what you want and, get to meet and communicate your idols, get to work with whoever you want to and to be around it, as much as it pains me to admit it, felt pretty bloody good. Once you're in, you're in. You know what I mean?

Now, I understand there are several factors to consider. One, me getting into a couple of films, saying hello to a few of my idols (who will never remember me in a million years) and eating some free muffins does not, repeat does not, constitute fame and/or success in any way, shape or form. Two, there is a price to pay for these privileges (for most people, anyway) and that price is fame itself. You can no longer masturbate with your bay window curtains undrawn, or have a peaceful shit on your front lawn. Gone are those days. As Dave Chapelle once said "you can never become un-famous". However, when you're at an International Film Festival, it is like a secret society - where everyone understands each other's plight, casually sipping money-free beverages and discussing their next collaborative masterpiece - and to be right there amongst it all, everything suddenly seemed so real, so feasible, so easy. My dreams were right there in front of me....getting hammered. However, I got only a brief glimpse behind this curtain before being, as those who haven't earned their place there do, unceremoniously tossed back to the gutter. Now it all feels far, far away again. This is the problem.

Now, don't get me wrong, fame is not something I covet at all. It's the success and the whole "once you're in, you're in" thing I'm after. My motto in the past year, one that I've had to batter into my numb, lazy skull, is that nothing is easy in this industry and I do mean literally nothing. The most menial of tasks, like sending a DVD to a festival for screening (as I'm doing now) requires a great deal of time and effort, for reasons which are frankly too dull to get into here (it's to do with projection in case you're interested). Every time you think you've made it over the hump, another one appears twice the size. Of course, it is at these moments where I seek solace in the fact that if it was wasn't monumentally difficult, then everyone would do it. All you can do is get back on the horse and ride. Again, and again, and again.

I don't know what my point is. Sometimes you don't need one. Sometimes it's good to just be pointless.

JB.

Formal, Impersonal, Bullet-Point Updates

Here's the latest scoop...

* Saw "The Master" for a second time at a private screening in LA. This time around I was completely blown away. Instead of looking for wasn't there, I focused on what was and what was there was utterly brilliant. Not for everyone though, I'm sure. Also, this time I sat up the front. This is a must. Never have I had a film (and glorious 70MM film) dominate my senses in such a way. Beautiful film.

* My film "Love Is..." got into the Hollywood Film Festival. This is very good news as I'm told this festival is a very good one. Been working on press-kit type stuff. All very surreal.

* "Starving In Hollywood" - the sketch show I've been working on, now has an IndieGoGo campaign. Please, if you feel so inclined, visit the page and give generously. Good and lovely things will come your way if you do. http://www.indiegogo.com/StarvingInHollywood?a=814159

* Watched Clint Eastwood's Speech at the Republican Convention. Absolutely cringe-worthy. Stick to acting, mate. Politics is clearly not your forte.

* This is the most gorgeously weird piece of music I've heard in a while. Fact:



* Found out that Deer have no gall bladders. Who would've known?

End Transmission.

JB.

Starving In Hollywood - Trailer

Here is a promotional teaser for my new sketch show. Enjoy.



The revolution will not be televised.

JB.

Sketch Show

Filming of my new sketch show has begun and the past week has been absolutely mental.

To fill you in, I met some peeps at a party. We started talking. They showed me a sketch show they had previously wrote and directed. It was utterly insane, slightly perverse and in-your-face enough for me to love it. Thus they brought me in to help write, direct and act in what is now known as "Starving In Hollywood". Thus begins the story.

Today was day three of shooting at a crazy house deep in the San Fernando Valley where many, many debauched things have occurred (not least, several porno shoots - in the past, of course). In those three days I have been in a bikini, been a German professor, been a news reporter, been a big, black, dildo, been a sock puppet, eaten dirt and probably anything else you could imagine.

Suffice to say it has been fun, as I always expected it to be. However what's been the most pleasant aspect of shooting this show has been working with a wonderful group talented, lovely people who are game for anything. It has been the absolute antithesis of everything "Hollywood" and, as a result, an absolute breath of fresh air. It feels so nice to be amongst this merry bunch of misfits creating hilarious stuff (one hopes, anyway) and despite how close to the bone the subject matter is - and trust me, some of it pretty fecking close - people have just mucked in and gone all-out. It's been hot, extremely cramped, and a lot of hard bloody work, however it has been a joy to be behind and in front of the camera again. Indeed doing projects like this reminds me of exactly why I love doing what I do.

The other element of this project I have found thoroughly satisfying has been taking the piss out of everything I dislike about mainstream culture. It somehow feels cathartic to get these things off one's chest. Skewering celebrities, politicians, musicians, reality shows, or just the industry in general has been nothing short of delightful fun. Ultimately, of course, this sort of behaviour is akin to throwing stones at a vast cliff face but, metaphorically speaking, it's good exercise.

Hopefully I'll have some footage to post here soon and all in all, although knackered and massively sunburned, consider this big-headed human happy.


Peace and poo-jokes,


John.

My Film On The Big Screen: A Review

So, after drinking far too much free Pepsi I am now high as a kite and wide awake. A perfect time to review the earlier events of this evening. Namely the first ever screening of my film. I'll try and talk you through the emotional rollercoaster. It was quite a ride.

All day I had been a simmering brew of nerves. However, as soon as I set foot inside the festival, I became a full-boiled nightmare. I haven't experienced sheer, gut-wrenching terror like that since the first time I ever did stand-up. I might even go so far as to say I was more nervous on this occasion. Anyway, the entire lobby was packed with people, there was a Red Carpet, people wanted pictures of us...the whole thing just sent my arsehole into oblivion. You see, deep down, I had always suspected that my dislike for publicity was a conceited attempt at staying grounded or something. I think I always suspected that when faced with the "red carpet" and the "Q&A" type-scenarios I would instantly become the ham I've always been, love every second, discard all my friends and family and become the next Jodie Marsh. Turns out I really am quite publicity-shy. After seeing pictures of the evening, the utter discomfort I was feeling inside apparently wasn't betrayed by my face. I was a wreck.

Then of course came the actual screening. We were in a two-hour slot, which is FAR too long to be showing short films. Especially when the first hour was utterly appalling, and I'm saying this as a fan of film. They were shocking. So much so, in fact, that they had somehow managed to kill the room. An experience I had previously suffered many times on the stand-up circuit.

Then, about an hour or so in, came mine.

I was already hopped-up on Pepsi and dread and when the first musical notes began I felt myself shrinking into my seat like a chocolate rabbit by the fire. Now, the first rule of reviving a dead room in stand-up is that it takes them a while to trust you - you have to win them back and let them know you're not like the others. The same applied here. However this meant, in this scenario, that for the start of the film, it became plainly apparent that no-one was laughing. No-one. Silencio. "That's it", I thought, "their will has been broken. They've become jaded by the pure tripe put before them for the past hour. They hate my film."

A few smatterings of laughter began. Then a nice moment where everyone jumped. That felt good. I started to move slightly more upright, we were winning them back. Then next thing you know, the whole place laughed loud. They had finally warmed to the story. I was now almost fully upright (not sexually, of course) when suddenly, out of nowhere, a moment of actual warmth, satisfaction and achievement hit me over the head like a ton of bricks. I could see my own stupid little (see: massive) face up there on the big screen, in a film that I'd also wrote & directed, and it was getting laughs. Not only that but the exact message I was trying to convey was getting across. People were on the character's side. For a brief moment in time, I was in Woody Allen territory. I could have creamed myself right there and then.

Obviously there's no way of writing about this sort of thing without disappearing completely up your own arse, which I by now probably have in your eyes, and it's certainly quite presumptuous to put myself in the same stratosphere as the Woodster, but the reason I do write this is because lately I have been really disillusioned with life in "the industry". Surrounded by bottom-feeding swine with not a moral or shred of dignity to their name. Everyone telling me it's not possible, or you've got to do it like this, or like that or you've got to "network" or whatever the fuck people who think they know better than you tell you. The point is, in all that I kind of lost why I got into this in the first place. It's easy to lose touch with that when you're caught up in the hustle of 'making it' but the reason I got into this game after 28 years of drifting was, of course, to get up on that big screen and entertain a crowd. Plain and simple. To be a small part of the magic of cinema, where people go to a darkened room, sit in front of a giant screen and "oooo" and "ahhh" at what's before them. To see that happening, with something I created, before my eyes was an absolute honor and a privilege. I felt like a little kid again.

I've gone up my arse again, I know.

Right, I'm getting all soppy now and it's late so I'll stop rabbiting. But overall, the screening was a big success. People had very kind words and I even managed to duck out of the old Q&A session afterwards. Marvelous.

To everyone that has shown, and continues to show, support. I honestly can't thank you enough.

Rock n' Roll.

JB.

Things I Love: Breaking Bad

So, last night was the third episode of the fifth series of what is now, in my humble opinion, undisputedly the best TV show I have ever seen. I thought The Sopranos couldn't be topped. It has been. By this man...

For those who don't know, Breaking Bad is the story of one Walter White, a high-school chemistry teacher (slash genius) who is diagnosed with terminal cancer. Walt subsequently has what I will understatedly call "a bit of a breakdown" and, riddled with worry about his family's financial future, goes into the business of cooking Crystal Meth with a former student of his.

Thus he begins life as a drug dealer. What follows is an intriguing tale of a completely criminally inept man trying to hide his new business venture from his suspecting wife, his son and his DEA agent brother. All straight forward enough, right?

However, what elevates this show above your standard fare is the characters. Especially Walt, whose descent into the dark side is the single most perfectly written thing I've seen. There is so much room for error. So many opportunities for contrivance. So many chances to lose an audience with a "Oh, that would NEVER happen" type scenario (see: 'Lost') but not once does this happen. In fact, the exact opposite is true. Never have I found myself shouting "oh my god!" at the screen so many times throughout the story and never, most certainly in the latest episodes have I been so nervous watching everything unravel. That's the thing...you really shouldn't, but you really do care about what happens to these people, even peripheral figures. Everything is just so well executed that you can't help but find yourself right in the deep end, swimming through the murky waters of moral ambiguity along with everyone else. Every single story is on a knife-edge at all times, no-one can get out because everyone needs each other to survive. It is masterful storytelling folks, I tell thee.

Of course all of these wonderful characters would be nothing without great actors and it's no surprise that Bryan Cranston's portrayal of Walter White has won him every award under the sun (as has the brilliant Aaron Paul, as his sidekick, Jesse). Cranston is the best actor on TV. He goes from bumbling idiot to steel-eyed psycho so effortlessly and so subtly that it is doubly terrifying. Anna Gunn is great as his put-upon wife. Paul Schrader starts off as a boisterous, alpha-male knobhead as Hank, the DEA brother-in-law but he has evolved into something so much more. Bob Odenkirk as Saul, Jonathan Banks as the dead-eyed Mike, the list goes on and on. Everyone is incredible.

Also, the music, the guest stars, and, most notably, the cinematography are absolutely top draw. It looks like nothing else on TV, feels like nothing else on TV, is like nothing else on TV and frankly, I defy anyone not to get caught up in it after a few episodes.

In fact, why are you reading this? Go and watch it. Now!

JB.