Obligatory Dark Knight Review

Here we go again… (beware of spoilers)

As I was sitting and watching the picture, this feeling washed over me, the same feeling I get when eating a meal at the cheesecake factory and they set those oversized plates of food in front of you. This movie felt gluttonous.

The movie is long. Over two and a half hours long. There are a lot of characters and a lot of villains. There are a lot of story lines. There are a lot of action sequences and just about as much exposition. There is just a lot of everything. So why did it also feel incomplete? I’ve been struggling for an answer and, as much as I am able to figure, it’s because there was very little to savor…save for some scenes with The Joker.

It’s been said that in comic book films the movie is only as good as the villain is bad. Heath Ledger’s Joker is bad in the most enjoyable way. Wanting to wreak havoc for havoc’s sake, he delights in his evil exploits. This movie’s pace is stunted by dialogue that tells instead of shows its character motivation. Where other characters choke on the earnestness of their speeches, Ledger plays with his dialogue offering up the verbal equivalent of a cat batting a ball of string. At least it’s entertaining.

Harvey Dent also known as Two-Face emerges as a villain largely created by The Joker in the last third of the film. The Joker’s influence is obvious and a relief. Harvey Dent as District Attorney represents all that is good and wholesome in the city of Gotham. His character is begging to be embittered. Ultimately he is…from anger, from loss, and from the betrayal of his ideals also known as…justice. Aaron Eckhart’s Ken doll appearance adds to the too-good-to be true persona and makes for an affectively gruesome transformation into the budding super villain. However, if this is the last we see of good ‘ole Two-Face, my fear is that he never truly fulfilled his potential as evil or deranged and instead is left merely sad and damaged.

Bruce Wayne spends the bulk of this movie deliberating over the unintended consequences of Batman. As a result, he turns his tortured nature into something much less interesting…navel gazing and a feeling of being misunderstood. Claiming that his “vigilante” antics were only meant to be a short term solution for the city of Gotham, he’s left questioning if he can inspire confidence and the type of good he imagined dwelled within its citizens. This type of blind hope for humanity seems the exact thing to evoke the true love of his childhood sweetheart Rachel Dawes–except it doesn’t. Instead she makes a decision more evolved and enlightened than any romantic heroine (or woman) I’ve ever seen and chooses the seemingly stable lawyer over our brooding hero. Of course no good deed goes unpunished, and she is sacrificed as a script complication. Sadly, this complication is never fully resolved.

Like my plate of half eaten nachos at the Cheesecake Factory, there is just too much. Even the action sequences. What once made the French Connection so edge-of-your-seat has now become routine and banal. Instead of building to some meaningful show down, the chases become extensions or imitations of video game sequences where cars crunched and flipped garner points for some imaginary score. All that being said, there are moments when the cinematography was beautiful. The use of an Imax camera for a traditional Hollywood film is something I’ve been hoping for–for decades. I was pleased.

Overall, I cannot say the film was bad, nor can I say it was a masterpiece. The audience I sat with (interestingly a theater full of bussed in Nielsen media participants) cheered and applauded at all the right spots. The crowd was definitely different from your average bunch of cynical filmies known to haunt the Arclight. Evidently, the picture is a crowd pleaser, even at two hours and thirty-some minutes, it’s a crowd pleaser. Then again, so is the Cheesecake Factory. Apparently, we’re a gluttonous group.

Obligitory review of Dr. Horrible

Here’s another obligitory review of Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog….

Let’s address a couple things right off the bat…
First, as it’s been previously noted Dr. Horrible isn’t a blog. Dr. Horrible doesn’t have a blog. The show had a twitter feed (yay), a facebook fan page (ehh), but no blog. That’s just…interesting in this new media world…and not to mention that the way in which the four minute exposition-laden opening scene was filmed, one wonders if it should really be called “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Vlog”?

Which brings me to my second complaint…what’s so sing-alongy about it? Where is the bouncing ball? Where are the catchy little ditties that inspire midnight showings and homemade costuming? I guess I was hoping for something a little more campy. More than black rubber gloves or goggles campy. I will concede once or twice I’ve caught myself humming “so, that’s the plan, rule the world.”

Seamless segue into–

Things I liked: Neil Patrick Harris. Having been Doogie Howser, he’s somewhat of a cult figure already. At least a cultural pop icon. At least for my generation. Long before Sex and the City placed Carrie Bradshaw in front of her laptop, Doogie was already typing away about the life lessons he learned as a misunderstood tweeny doctor. Oh, Doogie. Leaving that awkward phase behind, recently, Neil Patrick Harris has been recognized as the surprising stand-out jokester on the sitcom “How I Met Your Mother”. So, I wasn’t really surprised to see NPH bring such touching humanity, comedic timing, and a beautiful singing voice to the character of Dr. Horrible. Oh did I mention his stint on Broadway? This guy is no stranger to musical theater. He’s performed in Cabaret, Assassins, and Rent to name a few.

Nathan Fillion, who can pull off a hunky brooding hotty with the best of them, plays a smarmy self-involved superhero who despite said smarminess remains, well, hunky. (Again, I’ve been a long time fan since his OLTL days) His role as Hammer, the obtusely do-gooding nemesis of Dr. Horrible, is fun but weak. Which begs the question: how do you write a shallow character without making him so one note? (One note? That could have been an interesting musical choice for his character.)

Felicia Day portrayed the damsel in distress. I thought Day did a good job with what she was given but really shines in her own web series, The Guild. I was disappointed with the lack of characterization behind…uhh (I pause to look up her character’s name)…Penny. What I left the show knowing about her is that she loves laundry, wants to help the homeless, and will choose the jock over the nerd. She’s a plot device more than a character providing motivation and the occasional duet. This is disappointing in a Whedon work which is usually filled with strong female characters. I felt that there was an opportunity missed to dovetail the three character’s emotional arcs…ya know if they had them.

After polling my friends and family, the songs were reported to be “better than expected.” I love that response to musical theater. Personally, I love a little song and dance. (Which btw, there was no dancing except for some much appreciated laundr-o-mat action.) As it’s been explained to me, in musical theater, the moment a character breaks into song is the moment words alone can no longer express their emotion. This felt true in the first episode, but by the second and third episodes the songs grew less organic. And sadly the humorous musical refrain that I loved: the Bad Horse Henchmen did not sing in the final episode at all. I was also disappointed that there was no over-arching anthem tying the series together. I was hoping for some sort of “Evil on the Rise” reprise.

The series ended with the death of a major character, a once scandalous but now trademark move by Whedon, and a rather open ended final scene leaving room for a sequel. After watching my fill of web series especially the likes of Big Fantastic’s Sam has Seven Friends or Prom Queen, I was frustrated asking myself why someone can’t just end a damn web series anymore. If it’s good enough we’ll want a sequel regardless of cliff hanger!

Overall the series was professionally shot and produced…albeit on a budget much lower than Whedon was accustom…a budget that would provide for a couple of seasons of most web series or at least a hundred episodes of something produced by Big Fantastic.

Heralded as proof that money can be made in online serials, heralded as a big HA! in the face of traditional studio production, there was much ado about Dr. Horrible. As a new media convert, as a Joss Whedon fan, I looked forward to it. I watched it at 10pm PST as each episode became available to the east coasters. I enjoyed it and as a result, have a hankering to watch some old Doogie Howser,MD. I’m not sure, however, what this series proves other than Joss Whedon has some uber-fans. I mean didn’t we all know that already?

A question of cost…

There are a couple of key components to creating a successful show.  First of all you need to have a good idea.  That part usually goes without saying.  Second, you need the right cast & crew.  You want people who breathe life into an idea.  Sure we’ve all played the game where we’ve tried to imagine the original casting choice of Tom Selleck as Indiana Jones, but would Magnum PI have existed without him?  Lastly, there is timing.  The show has to meet the audience and their needs at the right time.  In essence, a certain kind of magic needs to be present for all these elements to co-mingle and create great entertainment.  With any one of them missing, what you’re left with is something that is at best just watchable and at worst just plain painful.

So, even with the best idea or the biggest star power, creation of a show is still a veritable crap shoot –a roll of the dice as to whether all the other elements will fall into place. Enter the idea of the television pilot.

In the old media world of television, traditionally writer/creators would be given a development deal.  They’d generally be paid some (often large) sum of money to sit and come up with a certain number of show ideas and of those ideas a certain number of pilots would be produced.  Networks would look to test audiences for feedback then, based on their research, a pilot would get rejected, shelved, or a “pick up” –sometimes for a full season, sometimes for just a few episodes.   The studio or production company would foot the bill for writers fees and production costs, and in turn they owned the show.   The investment in these pilots allowed the studios to hedge their bet as to whether they had created magic in 22 or 44 minutes.

Now, of course, as we all know, times, they are a changin’.  Studios are looking to cut costs and this year’s party line is how pilot season does not need to cost nearly as much as it has in recent years.  This begs the question as to how the studios plan to cut costs. How do you still hedge your bet and develop a show?

One answer is shorter less elaborate pilots known as “presentations” ie:  stock sets are used as opposed to original designs; one or two scenes are filmed as opposed to a whole script.

Another answer is to renew, reuse, and recycle.  A number of networks are bringing out old bankable ideas and giving them another shot.  Shows like American Gladiators and The Mole are reality based examples, but revamped versions of network failures (re-dubbed “cult followed”) like ABC’s 1998-99 dramedy, Cupid, is a fascinating development.

In addition to searching their own vaults, the networks are looking to foreign produced hits for show fodder.  A recent article in Hollywood Reporter breaks down the various shows from various countries being revamped for American TV screens.  Hoping to repeat the success of shows like Ugly Betty and The Office, networks are using a show’s international success as a sort of make-shift test audience.

Not surprisingly networks are also looking to New Media.  Despite it’s well documented failure on NBC, Quarterlife is a notable example of old media’s new tendencies. This show was an old media pilot, revamped for the internet, then re-aired on traditional TV.

So, it was over dinner with an old media friend that I began forming my theory behind this new evolution of television.  She was explaining how fewer and fewer companies were accepting pitches for shows.  Instead, they preferred to see a fully produced 7-10 minute pilot presentation.  I was still digesting this information when I happened upon a blog post Kent Nichols wrote enumerating his new media Ninja business expenses.  My theory crystalized.  Hollywood, like a lot of corporate America, has begun outsourcing.  They are happily passing along the cost of show development in various degrees from pitch to pilot to the show creators.

Where it is true that this world and web-wide search for the next best show offers a lot of opportunity to the independent producer, it also transfers the financial burden of production.  As Kent pointed out, the mere cost of doing business, never mind any hard production costs, can quickly reach into the thousands and thousands of dollars.

Like a lot of indie filmmakers and new media producers know, raising the money to create your one big masterpiece can be a hell of an endeavor.  Then, on top of whatever strength you bring to the production, you are still called upon to wear many other less fitting hats to finish the project –in new media, it’s often web designer, social networker, and blogger to name a few –all things that distract from creating that one good show.

So, what happens when that elusive magic doesn’t bring everything exactly together or the indie producer doesn’t manage to create a cult following on the increasingly noisy interwebs?  In this Web 2.0 world where we mistrust everything traditional, value the individual perspective, and herald the amateur as the next unsung talent, are we undervaluing the cost of development and as a result undervaluing ourselves?

A response to a little gas…

Yes, the process in which television shows are created, bought, & sold is changing. Fueled by the strike and advances on the internet, changes that have been slowly gaining momentum suddenly seem to be racing forward.

New media producers couldn’t be happier. There is nothing we internet junkies love more than change. We can’t wait for software updates, site revisions, or another invite to the newest beta. Give me fresh, give me cool, give me now.

So, it’s no surprise that in a recent post new media giant, Kent Nichols called the traditional television development model a “braindead corpse”. I mean it’s been around for 40-something years, and as Kent noted: in this old model if you’re a 45 year-old content creator you’re done. Doesn’t this old model know it should just wander out into the woods somewhere to curl up and die? Unfortunately, it’s a little more complicated than that.

Don’t get me wrong, I am all for making room at the table and inviting more indie creators to the party. (Consider this my RSVP, go ahead and order me a Guinness cause I’m on my way.) I just question whether eliminating pilot season will really result in the diversity and fresh programming Kent hopes it will. At the end of the day what matters to advertisers, networks, and studios is not diversity but dollars. The upfronts helped provide the financial architecture that allowed shows to be created at all.

Kent’s 12-step program to creative frustration was amusingly stereotypical and as with many stereotypes, bashfully true. However, I offer that the path of any creator be it writer, filmmaker, or actor is hard. Usually marked by an interesting balance of self-doubt and relentless hope, regardless of route–it’s nothing short of arduous. What bothered me most about his list was how it breezed by two of the traditional model’s most valuable aspects: apprentice/mentorship and a paycheck. Trust me, it’s a lot easier to dream big with a full belly.

Indie producers are a special breed of content creator. They’ve taken their love of their “art” or “craft” or “work” to the highest level by putting their time and money (and usually the money of many loved ones too)where their mouth is. It’s a risk that can afford a much bigger pay-off than any desk job, but it usually comes at a fairly high and very real monetary price.

An end of upfronts would mean a shift in the way advertising dollars are spent on television shows. An end of pilot season would mean a shift in the way new shows are developed & introduced. These are two closely related yet very different changes.

New Media and Indie producers have a rare opportunity to create value as old markets shift and new markets emerge. I wonder, though, if maybe we should conduct a quick autopsy of our braindead buddy, in hopes of learning what worked what didn’t and why it failed. If New Media producers are going to survive the long haul, I believe it will be through support, cooperation, and collaboration. As our social networks grow into affiliations, associations, and corporations, what can we learn from the networks that preceded ours?

The Strike and New Media

Oh, the writer’s strike! For the past few weeks, my loving friends have had to witness my reactions from mild frustration to general kvetching to complete disbelief as I digested the wretched situation between the Guild & the AMPTP. This strike more than any other has hit an emotional chord with me because of its association with New Media.

A couple years ago, I left my life in Traditional Media for one in the wide world of the web. Like the pioneers in covered wagons who headed west in hopes of building a life for themselves, I eased out of studio servitude to start my own production company. My company would focus on creating content specifically for online distribution. I reveled in the freedom and the possibility of doing it right this time. Naivety and optimism are such powerful qualities.

When I got started working in television, like most bright-eyed youngins, I took whatever job was available: PA, Production Secretary, Art Department Coordinator. I had creative goals, but along the way to that great writer/director job, I wanted to learn as much as possible about production. One of the first big lessons (besides the ease at which a producer credit was handed out) was that when asking for a raise or for additional items the various departments in which I worked might want the answer would consistently be “It just isn’t in the budget.” After a couple years of this, naturally, I wanted to get my hands on that damn budget. How much was it? And who decided what went in it?!

A show accountant near and dear to my heart took me under his wing and slowly but surely taught me everything he knew. We created a working partnership that we hoped one day would transition into producer-dom. Those were some of the most enlightening and fun years I had working in traditional media. Learning how the money flows in and out of productions, studios, and networks is like discovering the Rosetta stone for Hollywood.

As 50% of marriages know, not all partnerships make it and my working partnership was no different. We began to have disagreements on the types of jobs we were taking, and I had this growing itch to go out on my own. Enter the internet.

Comforted by my naivety and optimism, I thought I could take my traditional media know-how, my understanding of budgets, my ability to speak the studio language and create quality independent content for the web that sponsors would be happy to get behind. There was a bullish attitude towards New Media. VC flowed freely. Video sharing sites seemed to pop up every day. Even before the Google-YouTube merger or the You Tube “partners” program, sites like Blip.tv (not to be confused with the now defunct bliptv.com) and Revver launched promising an advertising revenue share with show creators. Advertisers, however, were slow to bring money to the table. Instead, a few advertisers opted to create their own content hoping for a viral hit. Everything was an experiment.

I’ve been in New Media for over two years now and in that time, I’ve seen a lot of big numbers thrown around in flashy headlines, but I have yet to see a proven business model. Friends of mine who are making money online are making very little, and those who are making an actual profit are doing so because they have no production costs beyond their time & talent. Early on, the big thing was itunes & the video ipod, that very quickly shifted to video content for the cell phone, that was quickly replaced by improved streaming flash video sites, and today the talk is about social networking–your video flash site now must also be an interactive community hub.

Over the past year, I’ve been to every New Media & Television associated conference & convention I could afford. The overwhelming theme was “When you want it, where you want it, & how you want it” when speaking of the future of media consumption. Do you want to download your favorite show? Do you want to stream it? Do you want it on your ipod or on your Tivo? The National Association of Television Program Executives holds a conference every year, this is traditionally where TV syndication deals are made. Their theme last year was “Evolve & Prosper.” They welcomed a lot of New Media participants to the table. The advertisers discussed their desire for involvement, but reiterated that their ventures online were still experimental.

There is very little debate over whether there is a future for television on the internet. The question is more how will television be involved online and for that matter will your internet be involved on your television. We are dealing in a realm that has active programmers designing better delivery methods everyday, a realm that has an ever-evolving vocabulary to define these advances and movements, but has no standard metrics system as of yet. For a lot of Traditional Media dabblers as well as New Media entrepreneurs, it seems there are still more questions than answers.

One of my New Media friends once described the world of online video as the wild west. What a great image of people grabbing what they can and shooting what they want (film-icly speaking of course) in this New Media Gold Rush. The problem is except for a few large com-glomerates (dot-coms that have their hands in a lot of online ventures) no one has seen a lot of gold–not even Traditional Media producers. Some people have managed to find silver and it’s those people who keep my hope alive.

So, to these writers who felt it necessary to strike over residuals for online content: I do not dispute the idea of fair wages for fair work, or the idea of intellectual property and usage–I just ask whether now is the time for this specific battle. Is bitterness over past negotiations going to fuel your decision making more than a clear understanding of the medium for which you are fighting? Is a portion of a future something so undefined really worth the wages you’d make today? My experiences working in studio accounting taught me that Traditional Media finance is a complicated beast that is not always understood nor fair. My experience working in New Media leads me to believe that its financial system will be even more complex–with more players and more variables.

I am happy to hear that the WGA and the AMPTP have agreed to resume discussions after Thanksgiving. I welcome them both to join the New Media conversations that we’ve been having for years.