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

The Star Wars Holiday Special

Well, here I am back in England where it's cold, rainy and dark. However the Christmas spirit is in full effect and drunkenly wandering around the streets of London last night made me realise what a beautiful city I live on the doorstep of.

Anyway, enough of that. Here is part one of The Star Wars Holiday Special - a two-hour xmas television event that aired back in 1977 (after 'A New Hope' became the biggest grossing film of all time). Words cannot begin to describe how hilariously shit this thing is, however when George Lucas himself says "If I had the time and a hammer, I would track down every copy of that show and smash it" you know it's going to be bad. After all, this is the same man who put out "A Phantom Menace".

Enough from me, just sit back and enjoy the brilliance...



JB.

The Book of Face

So, after much bitching and whining from my friends and family, I decided to re-instate my facebook account. Initially I was most reticent to do this as I felt my initial point, whatever that was, was being proven and being proven well. I will not lie my friends, I took untold pleasure from saying to people "Sorry, luv, I'm not on facebook.....now smell this hanky"

After getting my account back, at first things proceeded much the same as they did before. I barely even checked my account, it was almost as if I didn't even have an account, certainly not one that I cared about. In fact, the only time I would ever even log in would be if I received an email from someone. The battle for my collected conscience, it seemed, had been won.

That was then. This is now.

Now, about a month later, I find myself - twitching and crouching like Gollum in his cave - almost involuntarily logging in to the site. Every time I've got a free few seconds, some demon takes possession of my being and forces my reluctant fingers to type my username and password, completely against my will. Every logical part of my brain knows there is nothing to be found there. No nourishment whatsoever. None. Not spiritually, emotionally, physically (well....let's not go that far), nothing. However I can do absolutely nothing about it. It's got me and I don't know what to do but delete my account and rid myself of this terrible curse once and for all.

I mean, and this is just one example, I logged in this morning to find at least 53 updates talking about snow. Fucking SNOW! I can feel myself becoming dumber by the second. I'm tempted to start using heroin to compensate. Not only would facebook become suddenly far less important, but there would also be all manor of medical help available should I ever wish to quit. Mark my words, people, for I am certain, many many years from now, it will be revealed that this whole thing was created by government mind control experts to keep the masses docile, apathetic and thus less likely to revolt. The enemy has many spies...


JB.


P.S - I'm not sure, but I think it's snowing in England.

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.