Andrew Lippa and I did an interview for Big Fish about our collaboration. We recorded it in the lobby of the Oriental Theater while the show was playing, so in the background you can hear Kate Baldwin singing “I Don’t Need a Roof” from the second act.
Mason and Finley
The 22-year old twins at the center of my 1999 TV show D.C. were named Mason and Finley. I picked those names because they sounded like a brother and sister who came from some money — or at least the kids of English professors. I pictured them solving mysteries as teenagers.
I also picked those names because they were rare. I’d never encountered any actual people with those names.
Now the country is lousy with Masons. For 2012, it’s the #2 name in America, steadily climbing from #64 in 2000.
And while Finley isn’t exactly common, it has grown quite a bit. In 2005, it was the #986 name. For 2012, it’s #349. (Still, the only Finley I’ve met in real life is an eight-year old boy in my daughter’s French class.)
D.C. lasted only seven low-rated episodes, so I can’t take any credit for these names rising in popularity. But it’s interesting to realize that names chosen for their relative obscurity may not stay that way.
For the hero of Chosen, I picked Asha. Right now, it’s ranked #978, but in a world full of Emmas and Ellas, it feels like the kind of name that has room to grow.
(The scripts for D.C. are available in the Library.)
Use whatever camera works
IndieWire lists the cameras used by filmmakers at the 2013 Tribeca Festival. The ARRI Alexa is, unsurprisingly, a popular choice, as is the Canon 5D.
But what I find heartening is just how many different types of rigs are in use, from SLRs to older videocams to iPhones. There’s no one “right” camera, so fetishizing pixels and dynamic range is often detrimental.
If you’re making a movie, the best camera is the one that works for your style, story and budget.
The life of the unknown screenwriter
Justin Marks offers a look at what it’s like to be a working screenwriter you’ve never heard of:
I had the fantasies of what this life would be like — a life that, for most, never will be a reality. I’ve wanted to write movies since I was 12 years old. I wanted trips to backlots, premieres, moments of seeing my movie on the shelf at the video store. That’s what we sign up for.
Then there’s the other 90 percent: waking up, walking the dogs, grinding away at my computer in the clothes I slept in. Occasional fits of creative euphoria interrupted by phone calls from agents, arguments on Twitter or the dogs barking at squirrels in the yard. But when it picks up — when there’s a movie being made or a star being attached or a deal being closed — man, that high feels like it’ll last forever.
For the record, I’d heard of Justin Marks. In fact, he wrote a piece for this blog urging writers to ignore my advice and get a manager.