The Undeniable Influence of Hollywood

Rocky 1:

Rocky 3:

John.

"In The Can"

Friends, let me tell you a thing about my experience writing, directing and acting in a film. First of all, if you intend to go down the road I did - that is, rent some equipment on the cheap for a weekend, get your friends to star in it as well as occupy several jobs for which an entire crew is usually required - then be prepared for a severe lack of sleep and/or food of any nutritional value. Secondly, in pre-production, prepare. Once you've prepared, prepare some more. Allow yourself to be ready for every single scenario known to man - if winged monkeys carrying laser guided flame throwers were to invade your set, you'll be ready for it - as you are bound to forget something that will end up being vital to the telling of your story. Trying to minimize these instances, in my personal experience at least, is the key to a smooth guerilla production. Preparing includes more than just knowing your lines by the way. As a director, you really do need to analyse every word of that script, checking for shots you want at various points, reactions you want to see from the actors involved and any props that will be needed throughout. I'm sure there's a whole host of other things to remember but I forgot them.

I, of course, failed with all of these points, which is why I give them to you now. However, lucky as I was, a tremendous amount of help from a truly exceptional group of people was afforded to me and we ended up getting most everything I wanted, in one way or another. I cannot thank everyone involved, or indeed praise them highly, enough. They all have big futures so I felt pretty lucky to get them early and at a discounted friend rate.

Day one of the shoot was by all accounts pretty disastarous. I got off work late, made it to the rental place just in the nick of time, then hot-footed it across the traffic strewn roads of LA to my apartment where we proceeded to shoot for the rest of the evening. Two things I hadn't considered: One - next door's dog barking through every f**king take. Two - the temperature in my already baking apartment rising to miserable levels when "movie lights" were thrown into the mix. This is not conducive to good acting or a pleasurable experience for anyone involved. Suffice to say, after we wrapped (at about 2.30am I might add) I was not feeling particularly confident and slept barely a wink for fear I was making the next "The Room".

Day two was much more successful. I had an epiphany in the night and got back to what I wanted to achieve with this piece in the first place - keep the camerawork simple and let the acting do the talking. Thus we did that and got some great footage. We even managed to turn my mate Stas' apartment into a waiting room, which was far more difficult and pat-on-the-back-worthy than it sounds, trust me. Plus we finished on time, which I was also proud of. However, I still didn't sleep as it is just simply impossible to do so under these conditions.

Day three went better than I could have hoped. We managed to turn Taylor's back garden into an organic cafe, which again as before, is bloody hard work! After running around like blue-arsed flies all day and night, we decided (to the sound of a collective groan) to re-shoot everything (yep...everything!) from the Day 1 shoot that evening. Thus we did not finish filming until 2.30am once again. Did I care? Did I f**k? Every second of it was an absolute pleasure...for me at least. For everyone else you'd have to ask them.

Driving back up the 405 at 3 in the morning, I can't begin to describe the feeling of exhaustion, elation and pride at having achieved something I had been secretly aspiring to since as far back as I can remember. Now of course comes the headache of editing the hours of footage, syncing up the sound, re-shooting anything we might have missed (which going by my track record will be plenty) and generally making it not shit, for want of a better phrase. That's all part of the fun though isn't it?

Salutations,

John.

And The Spurs Go Marching On

Penalty courtesy of Mr. Myagi

Today I could not be happier. For those who don't know, today Tottenham Hotspur FC, aka Spurs, aka the bane of my existence for the last 29 years, polished off Young Boys (which isn't a euphemism) 4-0 to qualify for the Champions League group stages for the first time since 1961. Nineteen. Sixty. One!

The letdowns from the past are all forgiven, all those hours I've spent freezing my bollocks off in the rain watching us get dominated, all the jibes I've had to put up with from Arsenal supporters, all those letdowns, all those disappointments, all the Ruel Fox's, Andy Sinton's and Ramon Vega's...they're all worth it just for feelings like today. Bravo boys, I'm proud of you all.

To Peter Crouch...you are a lanky legend sir.

Fingers crossed for Real Madrid in the draw tomorrow.

"GLORY GLORY TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR"

Peace,

John.

Summer Days

Ahhhh, this takes me back.

Quote of the Day

"Kids, you tried and failed miserably. The lesson is, never try."

(Homer Simpson)

Things I Love: Swingers

I remember vividly the first time I even heard about this film. I was in my first year at university and my dear friend (and then room-mate) Adam had watched it one night after I went to bed. The next day he could not stop raving about it, telling me that I simply have to watch it as I would love it and then end scene was almost a direct reflection of an incident that happened in my life. I didn't really pay this much attention, I didn't really pay attention to much at all back then if I'm honest.

However, Christmas rolled around and I bought a VHS copy with my 10 quid HMV voucher. From the first time I laid eyes on it, I absolutely loved it. Not only was it hilarious, poignant and clever, but it was literally like watching an American manifestation of my life up until that point. It is the one film that single-handedly inspired me to write a book (although it took a bloody long time), and want to become an actor and a film-maker. I watched it last night for the first time since I moved to LA and it was like seeing it all again with a fresh pair of eyes. I have now been to most of the places they frequent in the movie and I finally got subtle inside jokes like - "818?"..."No. 310"..."Ooo nice." I'm cool, I know.

Almost as interesting as the film itself is the story of how it got made, which is absolutely remarkable. Made on a budget of 200 grand. Shot in bars/casinos/parties that were open and full of real people. Rejected by film festivals all over. Until it finally showed at a private screening (funded by the cast & crew) and subsequently got picked up, single-handedly launching the careers of Vince Vaughn, Jon Favreau, Ron Livingston, Heather Graham and Doug Liman in the process.

Just goes to show, if you're money and you're like a big bear with big f**king claws and big f**king fangs, anything is possible.

P.S. - The last scene really did happen to me. Not exactly but pretty damn similar. Extremely embarrassing.

Writer's Block

Frustrated? Yes. Angry? Indeed I am. Confused? Abso-f**king-lutely Bob!

The reason for these feelings is simple. I have recently decided, in a moment of searing clarity, that the sit-com my writing partner and I have written needs to be on TV...at once. Thus I decided to begin contacting people in London who could make this happen. To say I have been so far disappointed would be a gross understatement.

My instincts told me that the pertinent place to begin this epic journey would of course be production companies. So I went about emailing every company I could find. The response was swift and deadly. "No...f*ck off" being the most common response. Or, more accurately, "Mr. Byford, thank you for your spectacularly charming correspondence, however we at (fill in blank) do not accept unsolicited scripts unless from an agent or an industry professional. P.S - You are extremely handsome and well hung."

So, of course, common logic would dictate that the next place to look would be literary agencies, in order to get our pilot in the right hands. Therefore, I dusted off my copy of "The Writers' & Artists' Yearbook" and went to work. However, I have so far (I'm at the letter 'D' in the list) been frustrated to find exactly the same response from agents - that response being that they also do not accept unsolicited scripts, or they will only if accompanied by a letter of recommendation from a recognised industry person. Even more perplexing is the fact that a number of them have asked for a CV showing my previously published works...and I'll explain why.

You see, here's my problem (and I'm sure you can by now tell where I'm going with this)...if TV companies only accept scripts from production companies, and production companies only accept scripts from agents, and agents only accept scripts from their already established clients, then where the f**k does that leave me??? It's not like I can quickly run through my phone and call up sodding Elton John is it? "Yes, Elton old buddy old pal. You wouldn't mind being a dear and typing me a letter of recommendation so I can get this blasted TV Show off the ground, would you?"

It's like having a big glass wall in front of you. You can see through to the other side, look at them all having fun chinking champagne glasses and living the dream, my dream, but you cannot get in. There's no door. Nothing to even knock on, let alone be heard from.

I might be sounding somewhat defeatist, but I'm not. I honestly don't care if you put an army of heavily armed, land-dwelling robotic sharks from the future in front of me, it's happening one way or the other. My gripe is with the absolute twisted logic of this process. If you were to take the information I have recently found as red - i.e. absolutely objective - then it would be impossible for a CV to be built or any new ideas to ever see the light of day or indeed any unknown writers to ever get a break. Luckily for me, I am naive and stupid not to let this put me off. I mean, at the end of the day the worst they can do is tell me to sling it. It just upsets me that the industry itself seems to be geared towards producing essentially "cash cows", meaning in this case safe options that they know will succeed and keep the cheques rolling in. From a business standpoint, this makes sense. From an artistic one, it makes none. (As proven time and again)

So, I have decided that one day in the future when I am nice and successful, I intend fully to start a company which will be solely dedicated to the nurturing and procuring of new ideas from absolute unknowns like myself. You can quote me on that friends.

Fight the power!

John.

Heroes To Humanity: #68 - Jim Morrison

After getting extremely drunk on whiskey and beer last night, I have spent today immersed in things I'm interested in. Namely, The Doors. The perfect hangover band.

I began by watching "When You're Strange" which is a very interesting, somewhat surreal documentary about The Doors. While they have always been one of my all time favourite bands, I never really knew much about their story. Well, their story is really the story of one man...Jim Morrison. When the band formed in 1965, he was a quiet, shy military-raised kid who would turn his back on the audience from fear. By 1966, he was the swaggering, shirtless, rock-god we all know and love today. Watching him gyrate around the stage like a possessed shaman, howling out classics like "Break On Through" it became immediately apparent to me that they just do not make rock stars like this any more. All of the Justin Bieber's, Kesha's, and Miley Cyrus' of the world should hang their little corporate, vacant heads in shame.

R.I.P - Mr. Mojo Risin'

The Doors - "LA Woman"

Lyrics To Live By

"Been working for the church
While your life falls apart
Singing hallelujah with the fear in your heart
Every spark of friendship and love
Will die without a home
Hear the soldier groan, "We'll go at it alone"

(Arcade Fire - "Intervention")

Terrible Films (continued...)

By popular demand, well two people technically, I have decided to expand my all time worst films to a list of 10. Now, Magnolia is off the list because it has yet to stand the test of time. I have also excluded shite which no-one would expect to be good in the first place ('You Got Served', Spiceworld, Boat Trip etc.) So, in ascending order once again:

10) Tommy Boy (1995) - Oh I get it, a fat bloke and a skinny bloke together in the same film is HILARIOUS! Except it's not, is it. If someone could explain how this film is considered "comedy" I'd really appreciate it. Also, could you please explain how David Spade has had a career? Thanks.

9) The Matrix Revolutions (2003) - Yay! Zion is saved! Oh wait...I couldn't give a f**k. So bad that it managed to ruin the once-brilliant first film all on it's own accord. Just bile-inducing from beginning to end. Also features the most pointless fight ever.

8) Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999) - Why would you do that to us, George? Why? Why would you want to take something sacred and holy and shit all over it, viciously raping it until it's last dollar falls into your lap? Jar Jar Binks, George? Why, George? Why?

7) Deep Blue Sea (1999) - This film is almost redeemed by the scene where Samuel L. Jackson gets eaten, mid-inspiring speech. However, this moment of hilarity is quickly off-set by sharks that can twist bolts, open locked doors, read, write, play the guitar etc. and LL Cool J killing the final shark with his "bling". A turkey for the ages.

6) Miami Vice (2006) - This Michael Mann re-make of the TV series is deeply, epicly, crap. The plot is...well...there is no plot. The 'action scenes' look like I shot them on my phone and it features one of the most wooden (but actually hilarious) love stories of all time, including Colin Farrell prancing about spouting absurd one-liners like "We made moves on each other". Garbage.

I need a shower.

John.