Dim Sum Fiction

Check out my new flash fiction blog, Dim Sum Fiction, and feel free to leave any comments! I’m going to try and post a new story every week, or whenever I feel a sudden surge of inspiration.

She’s off to see the world

As Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, Judy Garland had a breathtaking girlish elegance that mesmerized me even when I was a child. It wasn’t just her hypnotic singing voice — it was the way in which she looked at the world, as if everything around her was an unbelievable magical illusion. She was as enthralled by Oz as we were, and never once did she betray her audience with a winking self-awareness, the way many child stars do these days with their aw-shucks-I’m-in-a-movie mellifluence. Judy became a household name because she understood that moviemaking was about sharing the enchantment.

In Life with Judy Garland: Me and My Shadows, that enchantment is more palpable than ever. The filmmakers of this Emmy-winning TV mini-series not only channelled Judy Garland’s spirit, they brought the legendary actress to life. Tammy Blanchard, in her film debut, plays the young Judy, while renowned Australian actress Judy Davis resurrects the manic, drug-addicted adult Judy; both possess an uncanny resemblance to the star, and they embody her so brilliantly and effortlessly that watching them is akin to participating in a seance. You’re not just watching a movie about Judy, you’re watching Judy.

With impressive meticulousness, the biopic documents Judy’s unexpected ascendancy to fame and her tragic downward spiral towards mental and financial desperation. Hollywood was an abusive lover she had an unhealthy on-and-off relationship with. Consumed by an overpowering drug addiction and the feverish pressures of showbiz life, Judy was eventually left with nothing but a ghostly shell of herself. The movie never judges the star, nor does it patronize her; it shows us who Judy Garland was: a woman willing to sacrifice herself for her dreams. 

Grade: A

Pixar won’t go down

By the time Pixar released its fifth feature in 2003, Finding Nemo, it had already become an axiom that every film produced by Pixar will invariably strike gold. Now the invincible computer-animation company has released its tenth film, Up, and the general truth remains evident: Pixar doesn’t know how to fail. Up is an endearingly old-fashioned adventure bolstered by the kind of shrewd slapstick choreography that the classic cartoons of the 1950s thrived on. It’s also disarmingly poignant. It tells the story of a grumpy old man, Carl Fredricksen, who tries to keep the spirit of his dead wife alive by reigniting the thing that brought them together: a fervent desire to explore the unknown. Determined to vanquish the festering loneliness in his heart, the reclusive Fredricksen ties thousands of balloons to his house and lifts off towards South America. Up in the air, the old man discovers a cherubic little Asian kid named Russell who has inadvertently tagged along for the ride. It soon becomes clear that the true journey is the budding friendship between the two explorers. Up is a prodding reminder that no matter how old you are, you’ll always be a kid looking for a new adventure.

Grade: A-

Five sequels, remakes I’d like to see

5 sequels I’d like to see:

Gremlins 3

Roger Rabbit II

The Road to Oz

The Incredibles 2

Planet of the Apes 2 (with Mark Wahlberg — yes, I actually liked it)

Zac Efron could be your father

Say what you will about Zac Efron. For all his Disneyfied, tween-heartthrob blandness, the kid is actually a decent actor. In 17 Again, the 21-year-old High School Musical star plays Michael O’Donnell, a man who magically transforms into his younger self and seizes the opportunity to undo his regrets. It’s yet another variation of Big, but the film, directed by Igby Goes Down helmer Burr Steers, is surprisingly clever.

On the verge of a bitter divorce, O’Donnell begins to form a bond with his two kids, something he never had when he was a contemptuous middle-aged man. The young O’Donnell, in essence, becomes one of them — a teenager high on the possibilities of life yet lost in his search for self-identity. In his kids’ sex-crazed world, abstinence is anathema and anti-individualism is in vogue. 

O’Donnell, spouting hilarious say-no-to-stupidity rhetoric — the kind of verbal punishment he’d inflict on his kids as a grown-up — begins to understand what it means to be himself again. It’s that sort of truthful “ah-ha” realization that distinguishes 17 Again from other teen-movie knockoffs, and Efron delivers it with delightful comic precision. Of course, the movie is not without some cringeworthy sophomoric jokes, but what’s high school without a bit of infantilism? 17 Again puts the high back in school.

Grade: B

Rage against the machines

It’s easy to dismiss Terminator: Salvation as nothing more than an empty thrill ride, because that’s exactly what McG’s film is. Still, there’s something oddly comforting in its rambunctious, “blockbuster movie” preposterousness. This is heavy metal alright, but it’s metal that’s been created with utterly defiant confidence, as if the director set out to prove that he’s as bad-ass as the characters in his movie. McG is far from becoming the visionary director he believes he is, but in Terminator: Salvation he demonstrates his burgeoning skills as an action-movie craftsman.

The film’s greatest achievement, however, isn’t the action. It’s Sam Worthington, who pretty much steals the show with his understated, heart-wrenching performance as Marcus Wright, an ex-prisoner who discovers he has more than a few things in common with the enemy. Worthington is on the fast-track to becoming Hollywood’s next big thing, and you can see why — the actor gets us to feel Marcus’s pain through his steely yet compassionate gaze. He makes internal agony seem effortless; unlike the director, who tries so hard that the film eventually collapses under the weight of its glossy, over-eager vacuousness.

After an unsurprising, by-the-numbers climax, the filmmakers move hastily towards a manufactured “emotional” ending, where they attempt to inject the movie with heart — literally. It only reminds us that what we’re watching is just as artificial as the T-1000. McG knows how to direct action, but he has a lot to learn about storytelling. Terminator: Salvation is about a war against machines, but, by the end, it’s all too obvious that the real machine is the movie itself. 

Grade: B-

Where every man has gone before

J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek crackles with such infectious cinematic fervor you almost forget that he and screenwriters Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci are merely stirring up old ingredients. The film never quite transcends its source material, yet it manages to thrill us with its spry, geeky knowingess. It’s as if Abrams injected the franchise with a much-needed shot of adrenaline.  

But the true spectacle here isn’t the action or visual effects (which are, indeed, spectacular); it’s the tension-laced relationship between Starfleet students Kirk and Spock. Their competitiveness gradually allows them to form their infamous bond, and watching them get there is something that even non-Trekkies will take giddy pleasure in.

Abrams, the prolific and gifted TV producer who opened that confounding mystery box called “Lost,” understands that great storytelling isn’t about the plot, it’s about the characters. Chris Pine plays James Kirk with a sexy, rugged charm — a rebel with a twinkle in his eye, and he makes Luke Skywalker look like a wuss. Zachary Quinto, as Spock, effortlessly summons the erudite Vulcan’s hardened emotions and “logical” intellect. The rest of the cast, including Karl Urban as Dr. Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy and Simon Pegg as Scotty, are equally inspired choices. 

If Star Trek falls short of greatness, it’s because, halfway through, the film abandons its sharp wit and opts for the conventionalism we’ve witnessed far too many times in the “Star Trek” canon. Abrams shifts gears and focuses on the explosions, as if he were afraid of losing the audience’s attention. Still, the action is directed with gleeful confidence, at times bringing to mind the early films of Spielberg.

Perhaps J.J. Abrams’ genius is due, more than anything else, to his ability to make the familiar seem new. Lost, Alias and Fringe have little to do with originality and more to do with execution. The guy’s passion for storytelling is palpable. He’s gone where every man has gone before, yet we’ll gladly follow him anywhere. For Abrams, no doubt, it’s only logical. 

Grade: B+

What are you waiting for?

For the longest time I was held back from making films because I believed I didn’t have the “right camera” or the “proper equipment.” Well, I now refuse to be stuck in that limited mindset. I think this is the secret to becoming a good filmmaker: 1) make as many awful movies as you can and 2) learn from them. If you want to be a screenwriter, 1) write as many awful screenplays as you can and 2) learn from them. If you wait for the “perfect script” or until the “right time,” you’ll end up with nothing but regrets.

Mistakes and setbacks are inevitable. It’s a struggle, no doubt about it. But that is how we get better at what we do, and that is how the story goes: we struggle, we work hard, we succeed. Take the “work hard” part out and you get nothing but struggle.

If you’re passionate about making movies — and I mean really in love with the art, the craft, the utter torture it inflicts on your creative soul — get out there and shoot something. It doesn’t matter if it’s on the lowest grade DV camera, or an old crappy 2001 Sony 3CCD camera like mine. Steven Spielberg never would have become the man he is today if he had said, “I don’t have the right camera. Well, I guess I have to wait until I get one.”

Stanley Kubrick was on to something when he said that young filmmakers should grab a camera and just “make a movie of any kind at all.” I’m certain that’s precisely how he became one of the most celebrated filmmakers in the world.

The possibilities are within us, not somewhere out there in some intangible form. I know there are others out there like myself who need a little push sometimes. So here’s your push. I’m looking forward to seeing your name up on the screen.

The Art of Deliberate Practice

About three decades ago, at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, Professor William Chase and a postdoctoral fellow named Anders Ericsson posited an interesting theory. They argued that our innate talents — whether it’s playing the violin, winning at chess, or running a Fortune 500 company — aren’t really innate at all. After many years of research and conducting dozens of experiments, they concluded that the individuals we perceive as “geniuses” — Mozart, Tiger Woods, Itzhak Perlman, to name a few — become who they are through “deliberate practice,” not thanks to some miraculous higher power.

That means thousands and thousands of hours of hard work. Tiger Woods wasn’t born a gifted golf champion. His father, a pro golfer himself, started training him at age three. Mozart’s music wasn’t merely handed down to him by God; the composer rewrote his music numerous times, trying to perfect it as he went along. Violinists like Itzhak Perlman accumulated at least 10,000 hours of practice in 10 years before he finally mastered his art. In one study, Chase and Ericsson proved that great memory can be cultivated — anyone, at any level, can improve their memory skills, not just math wizards and chess players.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that no one succeeds unless they work hard. But what separates the “ordinary” people from so-called “gifted” people, Chase and Ericsson suggest, isn’t some magical inborn quality; it’s deliberate practice. According to Geoff Colvin, author of the book Talent is Overrated:

Deliberate practice “is designed specifically to improve performance, often with a teacher’s help; it can be repeated a lot; feedback on results is continuously possible; it’s highly demanding mentally, whether the activity is purely intellectual, such as chess or business-related activities, or heavily physical, such as sports; and it isn’t much fun.”

Deliberate practice equals high performance. I understand now why many of my teachers believed I was a “gifted” writer and artist. But my talents weren’t gifts bestowed upon me at birth. I was a good writer because I wrote every single day — journals, essays, school newspaper articles, letters — I even created newsletters that I sent to one of my cousins regularly. I started my first collection of short stories in second grade. And I excelled at art because, at 6, I began drawing pictures on a regular basis. I was practicing deliberately without realizing it.

In retrospect, it makes sense why, in film school, my editing and shooting assignments often stood out (one of my professors once told me he had no doubt that I would one day “make it”). Prior to film school, as a teenager, I shot and edited numerous silly little short films; I volunteered at a local broadcasting station and taught myself video production; during my spare time I wrote dozens of awful screenplays. I didn’t wait until film school to learn the craft of filmmaking.  

My point here isn’t to boost my own ego. Far from it. For the last few years I’ve been racked with self-doubt and uncertainty about my future. I’ve never had any doubts about my own talent, but here’s what I’ve realized: I haven’t been working hard enough. And you out there, whoever is reading this: keep working your ass off. Double the amount of time you spend on pursuing your dreams. Stop wallowing in fear and laziness. Surgeons don’t become surgeons after a year of med school; it takes up to 10 years. It’s a mistake to believe we can achieve overnight success simply by wanting it. You’ve gotta get out there on the field and train like crazy. We may never truly know where talent comes from, but what we know for sure is this: deliberate practice pays off.

Lynch’s Twitter report

David Lynch is arguably the most unique filmmaker of our time. Case in point:

Apatow’s Oscar ‘Express’ short

In case you missed Judd Apatow’s hilarious short from last night’s Oscars, here it is.  James Franco and Seth Rogen reprise their stoner characters from Pineapple Express. Cinematographer Janusz Kaminski makes an unexpected cameo. 

‘Funny People’ Trailer

The movie, due July 31st, looks like Judd Apatow’s best film yet.

Watch the trailer.

‘Scream 4′ in the works

Wes Craven speaks with BloodyDisgusting.com about plans for Scream 4. Kevin Williamson, the mastermind who penned the first two films, is writing the script (thank you, God). It has been 13 years since the first film revitalized the horror genre and paved the way for more progressively disturbing films like Saw and Hostel. Though Scream remains the top grossing slasher flick of all time, it’ll be interesting to see if the fourth installment will be able to compete with the recent “serious” gore fests like Friday the 13th and the upcoming The Last House on the Left (a remake of Craven’s 1972 gruesome revenge flick).

Boredom kills

Boredom can kill, and Scott H Young knows a thing or two about it:

If you measured your life, not by achievements, but by how much boredom you could avoid, would you live life differently? Would you accomplish less? Or, by eliminating the things that dull you, would you end up completing more interesting things?

Life is too short to waste on uninteresting pursuits. Too many people have the false idea that success requires putting up with years of boredom to get what you want. I’d argue the opposite: the more boredom you tolerate in your life, the fewer meaningful things you are accomplishing.

Evolution of film editing

A recent story from Variety.com explains how film editing has evolved, thanks to digital technology:

For example, in a back-and-forth office scene between Tom Wilkinson and Tom Cruise from “Valyrie,” Wilkinson’s hand was all over the place — waving a cigarette in the air, on the desk, out of frame entirely. Rather than cutting around it, Ottman simply asked the vfx team to erase the offending arm and superimpose it on the desk, lifting the replacement limb from another shot. “It completely frees the editor to use a take where the performance is terrific but it would have been dumped because of an egregious continuity problem,” he says.

Timing is another consideration. In the past, if editors wanted to tighten a dialogue scene, they could remove pauses or entire lines by cutting between the two characters. Now, they can do it within the shot itself — a technique David Fincher’s editing duo, Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall, perfected on “Zodiac.” The film was running long, but it had been shot on digital. “There’s no film scanning, so to split a performance for the right side of the frame against a performance on the left side is a very easy and practical thing to do,” Baxter says.