A co-worker of mine with whom I discuss movies blogged about his thoughts about the Oscar-nominated The Hurt Locker. Now Bradford is much, MUCH more critical of movies than I am. And while I don’t always agree with his assessments, I do appreciate the criticism he offers. If you don’t want to read the post, he complains the films overuse of war movie conventions cliches. What struck me were his comments regarding the protagonist Sgt. James played by Jeremy Renner.

He claims there wasn’t much character growth – at least not enough to sympathize with the character as he encounters physical and emotional obstacles throughout the story. It occurred to me that there are parallels with Sgt. James and Ryan Bingham, the protagonist in another Oscar-nominated film, Up in the Air.

Here are some excerpts from his blog post and the ensuing comments:

[AS PER USUAL, THERE ARE SPOILERS]

From Bradford’s post:

I would have loved to see Sgt. James CHANGE throughout the course of the movie. Maybe see him get more and more addicted to his job, have him start his tour with all the hope in the world, only to lose it bit by bit. Or have him start his tour completely brainwashed, but find something more important within himself outside the confines of the battlefield. ANYTHING would have been more intriguing. But instead, we got a bunch of losers who stay losers in the course of two hours. How pathetic!

I replied with this:

You say you wanted Sgt. James to CHANGE more, but I actually wanted him to change less. I felt that while it is important to have your protagonist discover something to fight for, his character just wasn’t built for that. And because of this, I never really bought the transformation that was hinted to at the end of the 2nd and into the 3rd act.

You suggest that there really isn’t an arc, but I think there is. You see him react to his surroundings and his subsequent choices go against how the character was set up. He just comes to the realization that this “new” Sgt. James isn’t for him. He makes a bad call, learns from it.

I kind of want to compare him to Ryan Bingham from Up in the Air. You see Ryan in his comfort zone and is forced to scrutinize his entire existence – what he really wants out of his life – because of a change in company policy. He goes through the motions and suddenly, he makes noble, yet characteristically unsound decisions. He gets burned and in the end you’re wondering has he REALLY changed?

Now perhaps this is where The Hurt Locker misses its opportunity. I never felt that connection with Sgt. James like I did with Ryan Bingham. Sure, the whole war thing is a bit less accessible than life in the corporate world, but if you put Ryan Bingham’s experience into Sgt. James, would you have liked it better?

Then Bradford’s reply:

I wasn’t even aware there was a hint of “transformation.” When Sgt. James wandered off to find the boy’s parents, I thought it was a foolish script twist instead of an attempt at developing his character.

I did not even see a beat where he realizes anything. The only thing that matters to him is his mission, and the outcomes seemed to have no bearing on his character. Yes, he makes a bad call and learns accordingly, but just because a kid learns to not fall off his bike, it does not exactly change or develop who he/she is.

Why do we empathize with Ryan Bingham? Maybe we don’t. I felt like Up in the Air was equally a visual punishment as it was a moral tale. Bingham is lonely, yes, and we have all felt lonely before. But Bingham chooses to be disconnected from people, like how Sgt. James chooses to go to war.

The difference? Bingham actually realizes something essential and proactively TRIES to improve his life. Has he really changed? I think so. Just a hint. Sure, he goes back on the road because his one attempt failed, but he is wiser for the ware. I can appreciate that.

Sgt. James, on the other hand, stays an arrogant loser. I don’t think he proactively tries to do anything. If nothing else, he learns that war is where he belongs. How pitiful. There is nothing hopeful, interesting, enlightening, or likable about that. It isn’t even a “dark” or “badass” revelation, since from the start, he already enjoys defusing bombs.

And me again:

“Bingham actually realizes something essential and proactively TRIES to improve his life.”

That’s it right there. With Up in the Air, the audience can see the value of not living solitary life. You can understand the value of relationships – mainly because Reitman hits you over the head with all the interview footage. With The Hurt Locker, you never really care WHY it’s important that Sgt. James goes to look for the kid’s family – important to the character.

And Bradford’s final comment:

Exactly.

I didn’t understand how or why Sgt. James went after the kid’s parents. That was the point where the movie lost me.

I thought, maybe Sgt. James was thinking about his own son? Nope. He showed no regard for his son or wife when he returned… it was pitiful.

In fact, if there was such an intended parallel between the two boys, we should have seen James with his family BEFOREHAND. THAT would have motivated the move entirely.

Oh well.

I enjoyed The Hurt Locker, but I wonder how that film would fare if it didn’t come out in the summer when the popcorn movies run circles around the more “serious, Oscar-bait” fare. Had the film been release in November or December would it have received as much praise as it is currently getting?

To expound a bit on my thoughts of Sgt. James, I too felt uncomfortable when he went to go find the kid. It is certainly interesting psychology for Sgt. James to feel more connected to an Iraqi kid than his own son, but something felt off about the development of that relationship. I suppose that’s what we want from our soldiers – we want to know that Capt. John Miller (Saving Private Ryan) was a schoolteacher. We want to see that Sgt. James isn’t just a badass who is really good at his job – that he secretly longs for an emotional connection in a war-time situation. But you either go all in or you don’t go at all.

If you keep Sgt. James as a cold, hard war machine, that’s fine. You have the opportunity to show how his persona affects the supporting characters, the other two guys in his company. The story arc would revolve around them and NOT Sgt. James – the way you see Natalie Keener’s (Anna Kendrick in Up in the Air) character evolve because of her experiences traveling all over the country with Ryan Bingham (George Clooney).

But then you have an entirely different movie.

I subscribe to several screenwriting blogs and every now and again, they will mention some overused movie cliches conventions that you would see that either advances the plot or informs character development. Recently, Scott from GITS mentions a “running through the streets of NYC” montage and The Bitter Scrip Reader discusses the newscasters as an expository device.

As a kid who grew up on 80’s action movies, it would be those training/preparation montages along the lines of this classic:

…or like when Arnold gears up for the big rescue of his daughter (played by Alyssa Milano) in Commando. Sorry, I couldn’t find a YouTube clip of it, but it’s various shots of Arnold sliding a big survival knife in his boot, painting his face with tiger stripes, slamming a magazine into his machine gun, and hanging some grenades on a vest he zipped up a few cuts prior. There’s usually some dramatic horns with a snare drum in the back and throw in a few snap zooms for emphasis.

Now I was watching Defiance last night and realized there’s one that’s very commonplace in action/war flicks – the explosion next to a character who becomes temporarily dazed. It usually takes a moment to come to – usually due to another character screaming his name to get his attention. This device is pretty effective because it uses sound design and post-production to get its point across.

I’m sure this has been done prior to this film, but I really took notice during the Omaha Beach landing of Saving Private Ryan. It happens at around the 4:40 mark on the video below:

This sequence is cut in such a way that the audience becomes Capt. John Miller. They see what he sees and hears (or doesn’t) what hears (or doesn’t) all in a heightened state of consciousness. The sound goes in and out and you hear that eerie high-pitched tone after your ears get pounded by high decibel levels. You see another soldier trying to get his attention, looking straight at the camera to give you Capt. Miller’s point of view. Miller comes to and the sound is now back to what you would expect to hear in the middle of a fierce gun battle.

[NOTE: I should say that I've never been nearby when an explosion goes off, so the way this event is portrayed could actually be accurate. The closest I ever came was when a pretty large firecracker named an onion went off in a big steel drum next to me during a New Year's Eve celebration in the Philippines. I was probably about 5-6 when this happened so this memory isn't vivid, but I do remember that strange hum. No slow-mo, though.]

This is all great, except it’s becoming more and more common. Several years later, you would see a similar sequence in Ridley Scott’s Blackhawk Down and just last night, I saw the same sequence in Edward Zwick’s Defiance when the refugee camp was bombed by German plans. Same explosion nearby. Same close-up of the disoriented character (in this case it was Daniel Craig). Same other character getting his attention.

In fact, I’m curious if there was a similar sequnce in The Last Samurai. I can’t remember off-hand, though.

Don’t get me wrong – these sequences do a good job of breaking that wall between the audience and the character on the screen. The audience is supposed to experience what the character experiences. Put that on the list of cliches conventions you will likely see over and over again…until someone comes up with a fresh way to do it.

Can anyone else remember other movies that incorporated a similar sequence?

Ever since the SF Giants baseball ended without a post-season cameo this year, it’s not surprising that I’ve shifted my focus to being more creative. I’ve been inspired to put together a super duper small project before the end of the year. To keep the production modest, Al-Jay and I thought perhaps the best option is to come up with a very short script, or even just a single scene from a larger piece to shoot. After all, if I want to be a writer/director, I should have stuff that shows I can actually do those things. And while it would be ideal to shoot a complete story, showing you can construct a scene wouldn’t be a bad way to show off your skills.

This led me to sift through some of my old scripts over the past 8 years. (WOW – it’s been that long since I’ve started on this film thingy) I came across a script I wrote that was meant to be my senior thesis film. Of course, this was before funding ran out and I had to take a break from school. The last time this file was modified was June 4, 2002 and it’s been at least 5 years since I’ve actually read it all the way through.

The script is in the same vein of Bryan Singer’s short film Lion’s Den in which pent up tensions flare during a brief reunion between old high-school friends. In my script, members of a now-defunct mobile DJ group are forced to deal with their interpersonal and internal issues when the group reunites to DJ a party for a common acquaintance.

Well, it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone when I say that it was bad. Every writer – amateur, professional, or otherwise – will admit that the early stuff was horrible. I notice mistakes novice screenwriters typically make – expository and stilted dialogue, extensive action-description, non-distinct character voices (basically, everyone sounds the same), and unsatisfying cop-out endings.

And on top of these general scriptwriting faux pas, the theme is thin and the point of view narrow. Not to say that there isn’t value in a story about friendship, it’s just not as powerful when it’s obvious the author doesn’t really have a whole lot to say about it. This is the impression I got when I re-read Beats Per Minute. [I REALLY like this title - in fact, I stole this title for another script (still unfinished) because I didn't want to waste this gem on such a crappy story]

I know there’s value in looking back for signs of progression – shit, that was really the intent of this blog. It’s good I can look back and point out the mistakes. It shows I’m learning this craft – slowly but surely. I’m light years away from a good screenwriter, mind you, but I’ve also come a long way since then.

[NOTE: I was THIIIIIIS close (picture the smallest possible space between my thumb and index finger) to uploading a .pdf version of said screenplay, but I'm afraid that A) you'll laugh at me for how bad it is, B) you'll notice uncanny resemblances between the characters and my friends (who are also the ones who read this blog) and/or C) that you will tell me something to the effect of, "wait, I don't see the difference between this script and the stuff you write now."]

BTW: Cereal Monogamy is up on imdb now.

Every now and again, you watch a movie and it speaks directly to you. From the first frame to the last, you’re drawn in, completely connected with the characters and the journeys they go through. In the 90’s that movie for me was Swingers, and in the early 00’s, the film was Michel Gondry’s Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Now that we’re in the tail end of the decade, 500 Days of Summer is what’s up.

I’ll be the first to admit that I like the sissy relationship stuff, but it has to be intelligent and sincere. I’ll pass on Serendipity, The Notebook, and anything with Matthew McCogaughey. Eternal Sunshine was brilliant in so many ways – visually and in its storytelling. And Swingers, while nowhere near as stylistic, has an honesty about the it that makes it loveable. These are the types of stories I like to write. I’m captivated by how relationships evolve and devolve, how the characters navigate through such events.

Now I’m not a HUGE Woody Allen guy, but I appreciate how influential Annie Hall was to the relationship genre. And as this movie was influential to the younger filmmakers of that era, 500 Days of Summer has the chops to have that kind of impact with the younger filmmakers of this generation – the way Swingers and Eternal Sunshine impacted me.

So go watch it this weekend and let’s get the discourse going!

I read this post from The Bitter Script Reader today about character introductions and couldn’t agree more.

From the moment your protagonist shows up on the screen, the audience expects to see the character evolve (or devolve) throughout the course of the story. If the protagonist continually makes decisions that match the audience’s expectations, you run the risk of being cliche, predictable, and even unbelievable. Conversely, if the character always makes decisions against audience expectations, you run the risk of disconnecting your audience.

And as I gradually learn more and more about storytelling and the craft of screenwriting – via books, TV, and movies, I’ve come to understand it’s really about managing the audience’s expectations – finding the right blend of expected and unexpected character choices.