I've said for a long time if the studios would do one or two less $100M blockbusters a year and start 20 indies instead, their ROI would go up, although you can't predict which titles will be hits. (Like the book biz or music now.) You can bundle the investment offerings, as Disney often does, to package three movies, say, as a single offering. But investors in the movie business are greedy wildcatters. They don't want to spread the risk. They want a 10 multiple sure-thing. Hence the blockbuster mentality.
I'm sure Murdoch is doing the math. Movement toward the Web as distribution medium will also fracture the audience size even more. Like magazines now. And the recent writers and actors strikes/threats have had union-busting consequences. If it's an original for the Web, it's possible to do a lot nonunion and get around the rules. Or, at the very least, deferred pay, which permits you to start all kinds of losers without upfront opportunity cost.
I don't know much about Peter Rice but Fox Searchlight has hung in there when other boutique-spinoffs got closed. Warners closed their boutique distribution right in the middle of producing Slumdog Millionaire and that is why they did the split distribution deal with Searchlight. (And I don't think Disney has been as enthusiastic about Miramax since the Weinsteins left.)
Slumdog's success might change some thinking, maybe even was a factor in the decision to promote Rice.
Expect lots of Hollywood outsourcing to Bollywood, just like the software industry. They speak English and they're cheap and now they proved their global reach.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
G&G Review Kirk Douglas at the Kirk Douglas
Amazing how far a guy can go with a dimple on his chin and a wickedly playful sparkle in his eye.Georja and I took in his one-man show Before I Forget.
And speaking of sexual politics, 92-year-old Douglas has been married to his beloved Anne for more than a half-century now. He'd been married once before, and first wife Diana (mother to Michael and Joel) left him when she found out he'd strayed. Later, Anne was his assistant and language coach on a movie shoot in Paris. For his birthday, she threw him a surprise party - attended by most of the women he'd dated there, "including the one I'd been with last night."
He goes on to marvel, "How do they always know what we're doing?"
Great question, Kirk. Post a comment if you think you know the answer.
Which leads me to wonder, why isn't the head of Homeland Security a woman?
You can read our review for LASplash.com here.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Book Review: Bill Bryson's Shakespeare
Ever since I learned that Gerald and Shakespeare both mean "spear chucker," I've had a long-standing Jones for the Bard. Quite coincidentally, a colleague recently suggested that I'd enjoy anything written by Bill Bryson. My friend suggested A Walk in the Woods or A Short History of Nearly Everything. The first sounded too much like a mossy travelogue and the ambitious scope of the second seemed far too cumbersome for casual sampling. So Bryson's biography, Shakespeare: The World As Stage, was the irresistible choice for me.
I can now agree that Bryson may be the most entertaining nonfiction writer I've ever read. He dares to be a stylist in these days of plain-vanilla journalism, and that is praiseworthy in itself. Perhaps it's in the blood: His father was a sportswriter with the flair of an H. L. Menken or a Heywood Hale Broun.
Apparently Bryson was assigned to write Shakespeare as an entry in the Eminent Lives series from Atlas Books (a HarperCollins imprint, a News Corporation subsidiary, a Viacom competitor, and a prize possession of Rupert Murdoch et al). Right off, Bryson seems bewildered that so much material has been generated about the most illustrious English dramatist -- and most of it on scanty and even nonexistent evidence. You can almost hear Bryson implore, "I got stuck with writing this, now how do I fill a few hundred pages without making stuff up?" He starts by describing the Chandos portrait (shown here), and after tantalizing us with intriguing details about the wealth of the sitter (apparent from the dark clothes, which require lots of expensive dye) to the earring (as rakish on a man then as now), the embarrassed biographer bestows the fact that no one knows whether this most famous likeness is actually the person we've been told it is.
Bryson chatters on, quite amusingly, making much ado about nothing as he overturns reams of research. Perhaps because statistics offer some hope of solid evidence, he informs us that Shakespeare's vocabulary included about 20,000 words. You probably know about 50,000, but today's world is a more complex place. But -- and here's the astounding factoid -- when Shakespeare couldn't find an appropriate word, he apparently made one up.
In fact, Shakespeare contributed about 800 words to your 50K. Among these coinages are: abstemious, antipathy, assassination, barefaced, critical, eventful, excellent, frugal, indistinguishable, leapfrog, lonely, well-read, zany, and, as Bryson quips, countless others, including countless.
Suffice it to say Shakespeare must have had a fairly deep knowledge of Latin and Romance-language root words and syllables, to so effectively concoct and combine new polysyllabic English ones. Is this more grist for the grinders who allege Shakespeare was in fact someone else? Bryson does not comment specifically, but he does a credible job of debunking various Baconian and Marlovian speculations later in the book.
Shakespeare's turns of a phrase also enhanced the language. Many of his inventions are cliches of modern speech (Bryson's compilation): one fell swoop, vanish into thin air, bag and baggage, play fast and loose, go down the primrose path, be in a pickle, budge an inch, the milk of human kindness, more sinned against than sinning, remembrance of things past, beggar all description, cold comfort, to thine own self be true, more in sorrow than in anger, the wish is father of the thought, salad days, flesh and blood, foul play, tower of strength, pomp and circumstance, and foregone conclusion.
The King James Bible was a new translation back then. Most spiritual and scholarly works were still being written in Latin. So the English Bible and Shakespeare's plays apparently contributed more to our daily discourse than you'd think.
I plan to read lots more Bryson, and thanks to him I now admire William Shakespeare (whoever he was) more than ever.
I can now agree that Bryson may be the most entertaining nonfiction writer I've ever read. He dares to be a stylist in these days of plain-vanilla journalism, and that is praiseworthy in itself. Perhaps it's in the blood: His father was a sportswriter with the flair of an H. L. Menken or a Heywood Hale Broun.
Apparently Bryson was assigned to write Shakespeare as an entry in the Eminent Lives series from Atlas Books (a HarperCollins imprint, a News Corporation subsidiary, a Viacom competitor, and a prize possession of Rupert Murdoch et al). Right off, Bryson seems bewildered that so much material has been generated about the most illustrious English dramatist -- and most of it on scanty and even nonexistent evidence. You can almost hear Bryson implore, "I got stuck with writing this, now how do I fill a few hundred pages without making stuff up?" He starts by describing the Chandos portrait (shown here), and after tantalizing us with intriguing details about the wealth of the sitter (apparent from the dark clothes, which require lots of expensive dye) to the earring (as rakish on a man then as now), the embarrassed biographer bestows the fact that no one knows whether this most famous likeness is actually the person we've been told it is.
Bryson chatters on, quite amusingly, making much ado about nothing as he overturns reams of research. Perhaps because statistics offer some hope of solid evidence, he informs us that Shakespeare's vocabulary included about 20,000 words. You probably know about 50,000, but today's world is a more complex place. But -- and here's the astounding factoid -- when Shakespeare couldn't find an appropriate word, he apparently made one up.
In fact, Shakespeare contributed about 800 words to your 50K. Among these coinages are: abstemious, antipathy, assassination, barefaced, critical, eventful, excellent, frugal, indistinguishable, leapfrog, lonely, well-read, zany, and, as Bryson quips, countless others, including countless.
Suffice it to say Shakespeare must have had a fairly deep knowledge of Latin and Romance-language root words and syllables, to so effectively concoct and combine new polysyllabic English ones. Is this more grist for the grinders who allege Shakespeare was in fact someone else? Bryson does not comment specifically, but he does a credible job of debunking various Baconian and Marlovian speculations later in the book.
Shakespeare's turns of a phrase also enhanced the language. Many of his inventions are cliches of modern speech (Bryson's compilation): one fell swoop, vanish into thin air, bag and baggage, play fast and loose, go down the primrose path, be in a pickle, budge an inch, the milk of human kindness, more sinned against than sinning, remembrance of things past, beggar all description, cold comfort, to thine own self be true, more in sorrow than in anger, the wish is father of the thought, salad days, flesh and blood, foul play, tower of strength, pomp and circumstance, and foregone conclusion.
The King James Bible was a new translation back then. Most spiritual and scholarly works were still being written in Latin. So the English Bible and Shakespeare's plays apparently contributed more to our daily discourse than you'd think.
I plan to read lots more Bryson, and thanks to him I now admire William Shakespeare (whoever he was) more than ever.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Book Review: The Long Lavender Look
Time was, I was a big fan of John D. MacDonald (he was still alive then). I believe I read all of the Travis McGee books, of which this is one. I also read Condominium, one of his attempts at literary fiction, and predictably it was a disappointment. The power of the McGee books is in the genre and in the attitude. Dirty dealings and benign cynicism.
Trav is a very 'Sixties hero, with parallels to James Bond. Like Bond, McGee is a garbage-collector of the vile detritus left behind by the world's evil geniuses (and quite a few just plain idiotic criminals reminiscent of Elmore Leonard and Quentin Tarantino stories). Trav is also both a lover and an exploiter of beautiful women -- some smart, some dumb, all in some kind of trouble. And, as in the Bond stories, the ones he loves too much end up dead, usually horribly so, at the hands of the elusive monster-du-jour. Revenge then adds to Trav's justification for giving back as bad as his girlie got, or worse.
As an education in the underside of Florida real-estate schemes and political corruption, MacDonald's books are delightful and unexpected discoveries. You also get a strong dose of macroeconomic theory anytime McGee engages his neighbor Meyer Meyer in intellectual banter, whom we find sitting next to him in the speeding old Rolls pickup truck in the opening pages of Lavender.
But what strikes me as I pick up this book again is the depth of the cruelty MacDonald conjures. It's really ugly, voyeuristic, more shocking than the scummiest story in today's Enquirer. Leonard dishes out such material with a sigh, Tarantino with a chortle. I'm not sure where MacDonald stands, but suffice it to say his opinion of human nature is not too high.
Trav is a very 'Sixties hero, with parallels to James Bond. Like Bond, McGee is a garbage-collector of the vile detritus left behind by the world's evil geniuses (and quite a few just plain idiotic criminals reminiscent of Elmore Leonard and Quentin Tarantino stories). Trav is also both a lover and an exploiter of beautiful women -- some smart, some dumb, all in some kind of trouble. And, as in the Bond stories, the ones he loves too much end up dead, usually horribly so, at the hands of the elusive monster-du-jour. Revenge then adds to Trav's justification for giving back as bad as his girlie got, or worse.
As an education in the underside of Florida real-estate schemes and political corruption, MacDonald's books are delightful and unexpected discoveries. You also get a strong dose of macroeconomic theory anytime McGee engages his neighbor Meyer Meyer in intellectual banter, whom we find sitting next to him in the speeding old Rolls pickup truck in the opening pages of Lavender.
But what strikes me as I pick up this book again is the depth of the cruelty MacDonald conjures. It's really ugly, voyeuristic, more shocking than the scummiest story in today's Enquirer. Leonard dishes out such material with a sigh, Tarantino with a chortle. I'm not sure where MacDonald stands, but suffice it to say his opinion of human nature is not too high.
Friday, January 16, 2009
The Boychik's Los Angeles Events Next Weekend
Reflections Publishing 2nd Annual Writers Seminar (Free)
January 24, 2009 01:00PM
LAX Radisson Hotel, 6225 W. Century Blvd, Los Angeles, CA, The United States
http://www.reflectionspublishings.net
Gerald will appear on a panel to discuss "Making Early Decisions that Affect, Duh, Everything!" Intended particularly for memoirists, his examples will address point of view, voice, plot, emotional subplots, and structure, as well as editorial discipline to support those decisions. He will be joined by Robin Quinn of Quinn's Word for Word, a respected ghostwriting and editorial service.
January 24, 2009 01:00PM
LAX Radisson Hotel, 6225 W. Century Blvd, Los Angeles, CA, The United States
http://www.reflectionspublishings.net
Gerald will appear on a panel to discuss "Making Early Decisions that Affect, Duh, Everything!" Intended particularly for memoirists, his examples will address point of view, voice, plot, emotional subplots, and structure, as well as editorial discipline to support those decisions. He will be joined by Robin Quinn of Quinn's Word for Word, a respected ghostwriting and editorial service.
January 25, 2009 02:00PM
Barnes & Noble at the Grove, 189 Grove Dr. Suite K30, Santa Monica, CA, The United States
http://www.iwosc.org
Gerald will read from the forthcoming third comic novel in the Rollo Hemphill series, "Farnsworth's Revenge: Rollo's End." His reading is part of IWOSC Reads Its Own, sponsored by the Independent Writers of Southern California.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
G&G Review 'The Magic Flute' at LA Opera
Masonic ritual is fun and games! A flute and a few bells are potent weaponry against villainy! Enlightenment is a stroll through a translucent pyramid!
Life is paradox, and paradox is just damn funny.
Read all about it here.
The Freemasons were not exactly latter-day feminists, but at least in this production, the princess joins the prince as they both scramble to the top of the pyramid of wisdom.
(Photos by Robert Millar courtesy LA Opera)
Monday, January 5, 2009
G&G Savor Pink Martini
On New Year's Eve, Georja and I took in Pink Martini's performance at the Walt Disney Concert Hall. You can read our review for LASplash.com here.
Besides obvious musical virtues we mention in our review, I want to give Pink Martini credit for their business savvy. They've released three successful albums so far, all under their own label (Heinz Records, named for artistic director Thomas Lauderdale's late, beloved dog). So even though their CDs have sold hundreds of thousands of copies, this world-touring band is not answering to one of the big music labels. Like the best small-press book publishers, they are actively engaged in -- and apparently profiting from -- what I like to call "garage-band marketing."
A further thought in this New Year: In just a few years, Pink Martini has done a beautiful job of inventing itself as a "little orchestra," including building a well-deserved reputation for both musical virtuosity and originality. And they are perpetually reinventing old music genres like torch songs, Latin ballroom, and club tunes.
So I commend them to you not only as artistic but also as lifestyle role models.
Because it's going to be a year when we all need to think hard about reinventing just about everything in our lives just to cope!
Besides obvious musical virtues we mention in our review, I want to give Pink Martini credit for their business savvy. They've released three successful albums so far, all under their own label (Heinz Records, named for artistic director Thomas Lauderdale's late, beloved dog). So even though their CDs have sold hundreds of thousands of copies, this world-touring band is not answering to one of the big music labels. Like the best small-press book publishers, they are actively engaged in -- and apparently profiting from -- what I like to call "garage-band marketing."
A further thought in this New Year: In just a few years, Pink Martini has done a beautiful job of inventing itself as a "little orchestra," including building a well-deserved reputation for both musical virtuosity and originality. And they are perpetually reinventing old music genres like torch songs, Latin ballroom, and club tunes.
So I commend them to you not only as artistic but also as lifestyle role models.
Because it's going to be a year when we all need to think hard about reinventing just about everything in our lives just to cope!
Pianist-composer Thomas B. Lauderdale and lead vocalist-songwriter China Forbes of Pink Martini.
(Photo by Sherri Diteman courtesy Pink Martini)
(Photo by Sherri Diteman courtesy Pink Martini)
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