Why it’s called “Go,” and not “Call”
IMDb has message boards for every film and every filmmaker. I would strongly advise you to never read them, and in particular, don’t read them for any film you’ve worked on. You will walk away feeling a little worse about yourself and humanity.
But today, while looking up the name of an actor in Go, I ignored my own advice and clicked on one of the message board threads, which brought up an interesting point:
Did anyone else notice that even though the film was shot in 1999 and focused on young people that no mobile phones appeared in the film? Unless I missed something it seems like this was a deliberate decision by makers of the film. I like the choice.
The stripclub guy who Simon shot may have used a mobile phone to call the Riviera to find out which room Simon and his friends were staying in. I don’t recall, it may have been a carphone. It still doesn’t explain why no other characters in the movie use a mobile when they had the opportunity.
The answer, of course: the film came out in early 1999, and cellphones weren’t yet ubiquitous in Los Angeles. They existed, to be sure, but they were relatively expensive and rare. We hadn’t even settled on the lingo yet. Here’s how I describe one early in the script:
Even my mother wouldn’t call it a “cellular phone” today. Later, Simon uses the current term to refer to the Ferrari’s built-in phone:
(There’s still little consistency between cell phone, cell-phone and cellphone.)
Whatever you call them, there are two such phones in the movie: Zack’s and Vic Jr.’s. Ronna uses a pager, which is as much as she could believably afford as a grocery store cashier with rent trouble.1
Nearly ten years later, it seems natural to expect that every character in Go would have a cellphone. Their modern-day equivalents would. And the story would have had to change. Some examples:
Todd would have called Simon to check on Ronna before selling her anything.
Claire would have called Ronna, rather than paging her, while stuck at Todd’s apartment. Todd would have insisted on knowing why there was such a delay.
The conversation between Todd and Simon wouldn’t have necessarily happened in the hotel room.
Todd would have called Simon the moment he realized the pills were swapped.
As originally scripted, Ronna was conscious after being hit by the Miata. She could have called Claire, Manny, or 911 to get help.
After the shooting at the strip club, Simon and Marcus would have called Tiny and Singh, warning them to pack up.
Simon could have (but might not have) called Todd to warn him about the Vics.
Claire would have called Ronna after being ditched at the rave.
Ronna and Claire would have tried calling Mannie when looking for him.
Looking at this list, I’m really glad there weren’t a lot of cellphones when making Go. None of these changes are horrible, but they demand extra work to explain why characters aren’t just picking up the phone. Getting people face-to-face in movies is crucial, and cellphones work against that.
But cellphones are better than texting, which is what these characters would have been doing if the movie were made in 2008. Texting is not just uncinematic, it’s anti-cinematic: characters sitting still while twiddling their thumbs. I’ve yet to see it done effectively in movies or TV.
- I can’t find the link, but I recently read an article about how bad we are at remembering when technologies started. How long have fax machines been around? How about DVDs? When did television go color? If it happened during our lifetime, we can often match it up to a specific purchase; the first DVD I owned was Go. But my three-year old daughter will have no idea whether the fax came before the telephone. In fact, she may never really understand a fax. It’s been six months since we’ve sent one. ↩
Using a pseudonym
How do you go about using a pseudonym? My name doesn’t particularly stand out, and I’ve been using a pseudonym I really like while blogging. I’d like to use this as I submit scripts to contests/fellowships/agencies, but I’m not sure of the legalities of doing such. I don’t want to legally change my name — just write under a pen name.
How would I go about doing this, but still receive credit for what I write? How would I make authorship clear on applications/registrations?
– Phillip
Salt Lake City, Utah
Your email included your full name, and I disagree — your last name is straightforward, easy to pronounce and easy to remember. But if you decide you want to use a pseudonym, there’s nothing stopping you.
For now, just use your chosen pseudonym on your scripts. You’ll need to use your real, legal name on contracts and registrations, but for casual purposes, your nom-de-plume is fine. It’s only when people start paying you actual money that you’ll need to address the legitimacy of your pseudonym.
The WGA determines how names appear on screen, and the rules are pretty specific:
PSEUDONYM
19. A writer must use his/her own name in all writing credits unless he/she has already established a pseudonym or registers one at the Guild office before commencement of employment on a writing assignment, or before disposition of any rights to literary material on which he/she wishes to use such pseudonym.
Here’s what this means in practical terms. At some point, you’ll get a job writing for a WGA signatory company (any of the studios or major producers) and will be required to join the WGA. When you do, there will be forms to fill out, including a place for your pseudonym. You better be sure it’s the name you want to use for the next 30 years.
There’s one special case that sometimes comes up. A writer has the right to use a pseudonym if she receives credit on a movie, but don’t really want her name associated with it.
Credited writers of theatrical motion pictures are guaranteed the right to use a “reasonable” pseudonym if the request is made within five business days after credits are final and if the writer was paid less than $200,000 for writing services on the movie.1
In this situation, you’d still get residuals and all the other protections from being a credited writer, but you wouldn’t have to claim public ownership of a movie that went horribly awry.
It’s important to remember that using a pseudonym is different than legally changing your name. That’s what I did in 1992 before moving to California. My original last name flummoxed everyone, so I went to court in order to swap it with my father’s middle name. It was a massive hassle, but in the long run, it’s worked much better to have one name in both public and personal life.
- The $200K threshold seems arbitrary, but it’s a demand from the studios. If they’re paying a writer that much, they want to be able to use his or her name and credits for marketing purposes. ↩
A bunch of marriage news
It’s been weirdly under-reported, but Proposition 8, the November ballot initiative that seeks to amend the California constitution to ban same-sex marriage, had its official language changed earlier this month. It used to read as follows:
LIMIT ON MARRIAGE. CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT.
Amends the California Constitution to provide that only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California. Summary of estimate by Legislative Analyst and Director of Finance of fiscal impact on state and local government: The measure would have no fiscal effect on state or local governments. This is because there would be no change to the manner in which marriages are currently recognized by the state.
What’s going to appear on the ballots in November is much more accurate, and makes it clear that voting for it means actively taking away existing rights:
ELIMINATES RIGHT OF SAME-SEX COUPLES TO MARRY.
INITIATIVE CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT.
Changes California Constitution to eliminate right of same-sex couples to marry. Provides that only a marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California.
Fiscal Impact: Over the next few years, potential revenue loss, mainly sales taxes, totaling in the several tens of millions of dollars, to state and local governments. In the long run, likely little fiscal impact to state and local governments.
I would have added, “Voting for this means you’re a dick.” But the new language is certainly an improvement.
As I noted earlier, the polling indicates that the initiative is struggling: just 42% are in favor, a huge drop from 2000’s similar initiative. So its backers are already falling back on FUD tactics, the most recent being kindergartners. They warn –
If the gay marriage ruling is not overturned, teachers will be required to teach young children there is no difference between gay marriage and traditional marriage.
In the words of Mrs. Lovejoy: “Think about the children!”
Nevermind that the statement is factually wrong. Also, when do public school teachers give lessons on marriage, period? And are there popsicle sticks and yarn involved?
It’s easy to be glib, but dangerous. The proponents of Prop. 8 — many of them out-of-state — have deep pockets and a long history of stirring shit up in their favor. That’s why in lieu of a traditional wedding registry, we signed up with Equality California, which is spearheading the opposition campaign. Frankly, we’d rather have justice than a toaster.1
But worst case scenario — what happens if it passes? That’s still up for debate.
The consensus is that existing marriages couldn’t be voided, since they were legal at the time they were enacted. And to paraphrase the late Charlton Heston: you can pry my ring off my cold, dead hand. But there are reasons to believe the amendment might still get considerable court scrutiny even if it passes. The legal lingo about “suspect classes” is a bit head-swirling, but can be summarized thusly: imagine an amendment that said African-Americans couldn’t marry. You’d have a guaranteed court battle.
. . .
In much happier news, my friend Andrew Lippa just wed his longtime squeeze David Bloch, and the New York Times has a great piece on it. I hadn’t realized that the Times now does video interviews, but wow, it’s great. You get a much better sense of the couple when you hear them tell their own story. You’d have to be pretty hard-hearted not to want them married.
Andrew is a genius composer and lyricist, and I’ve been fortunate to be working on a project with him for the past two years. Mazel Tov to them both.
- If you’re itching for some righteous equality but don’t have another couple to gift, the registry is still there. John and Michael August, under “J,” strangely enough. ↩
Packing light
I’m headed to Seattle tonight for a quick screening of The Nines. I’m packing almost nothing: my iPhone, my Kindle, toiletries and a change of undies. Over the past year, I’ve found I am packing less and less, to the point that it’s become a sport to see how little I can get by with. It’s like urban survivalism.
It even has its own subcultures: I’ve become an adherent of bundle wrapping.
Part of my packing-light buzz is probably a reaction to having a child, because particularly with infants, there’s just so much crap you have to carry with you. When you leave them at home, you’re eager to ditch the luggage as well.
Zombies, Bridesmaids and Assassins
A quick trip to London over the weekend gave me 20+ hours of plane time to catch up on reading. I finished three books. The first two had been sitting on my Kindle1, while the last is dead-tree-only at the moment.
As I’ve mentioned before, screenwriters spend an inordinate amount of time thinking and talking about zombie invasions, so it was high time I read Max Brooks’s World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War
These are Romero-style supernatural zombies, as opposed to 28 Days/Weeks Later style biological zombies. That sounds like an esoteric distinction, but it has huge plot implications. These zombies won’t stop. Ever. They don’t need food, water, oxygen. They can’t swim, but they’ll walk along the ocean floor in giant mobs, later to walk up on beaches. Survivors are smart to head up above the frost line so zombies will freeze solid — but remember, they’ll thaw come spring.
As disaster movies love to show us, there’s something comforting about the end of the world, and Brooks’s book is no exception. J. Michael Straczynski is writing the big-screen adaptation, and while I’d love to see it, the material really feels better suited to a Lost-style television series. Regardless, the book is worth a read if you ever spend time contemplating zombie fortifications.
Sloane Crosley’s I Was Told There’d Be Cake
To her credit — I guess — Crosley seems to understand her negatives. Her story about volunteering at the butterfly pavilion accurately reflects how mostly-good intentions can result in drudgery, self-doubt and shame. In the best of the essays, Crosley serves as a bridesmaid to a high school friend she barely remembers. The story works largely because the former friend is such a needy monster that Crosley’s ambivalence feels fully justified. The conclusion is disappointing, but true to the spirit of the book: she’s not sure what she learned, or if there really is anything to learn.
I think Crosley will improve greatly with better editing. She’s a smart observer, but too often feels like she’s padding to reach a target word count.
The last book of my trip was Derek Haas’s The Silver Bear
Considering they’re both assassin origin stories, Wanted and The Silver Bear couldn’t be more different. Where Wanted is all flourishes and suspension of disbelief, The Silver Bear is played straight. It reminded me most of Donald E. Westlake’s The Ax
It’s a smart, quick read, and recommended.
Links to Kindle versions: World War Z
- Mini review: I like the Kindle a lot.
It looks awkward, but feels surprisingly good in the hand. The screen is terrific for books, but far too slow for reference materials. It’s good enough that I’ll always get the Kindle edition of a book if available. ↩
Vote yes on credit proposals
Just a reminder for WGA members: ballots are due Thursday for the three screen credit proposals, which I wrote about in more detail a few weeks ago. It’s an easy Yes for all three. They’re basically just closing loopholes.
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