Although many see Hollywood as an evil place where innocence is corrupted, celebrities become Gods, and sexual deviance is mandatory. I feel these concepts have grown out of hand. Los Angeles is a place where miracles happen. And no, I do not mean where you can make five hundred million dollars for spending a weekend on the screenplay that will ‘change the world’ before retiring to a villa, declaring everyone else as shit, and briefly calling each one of your high school classmates rubbing their nose in it. When I say miracles, I mean the unbelievable event that is making a film.
Producers have to juggle several plates at the same time. Dealing with one artist is hard enough but, running back and forth between many, stopping only long enough to remind the audience that everything is okay, before dashing back to replace actor plate number one with actor plate number two. It can only be described as unbelievable that each one is not terminally covered with shards of porcelain. Yes, dear reader, I do have a malicious approach to the metaphor.
Los Angeles releases around 500 films a year, give or take, (as much as Europe combined). Until anyone watches at least two-thirds of these, they have no concept of what level the city’s film quality is. Whilst shit may come from a corporate or independent source, it’s still shit, and pretentiousness can be considerably worse for art than wide distribution.
After years of reading scripts, going to low-budget performances, encouraging myself with the notion that maybe this bodes well for my career, I discovered that Hollywood is filled with talent. Talent you have to look for, but talent nonetheless. The Cinemas, film festivals, and many golden opportunities make this a place of inspiration, not degradation.
Before I gush so hard that I dehydrate and my laptop explodes, let me qualify by saying that I do believe film needs help. There are some that may require, being taken directly behind the shed before some vicious torture is in order, before putting them out of their misery (That’s right ‘Avatar’, right this way). There are others that are weak, and need a serious run around the track, preferably with a drill sergeant hot on its heels (That’s right James Bond! Move it!).
Whether a box office success or not, I intend to point to flaring errors as objectively as I can (assuming they don’t remake ‘Casablanca’, in which case I’m inclined to go on a murderous rampage, involving Humphrey Bogart’s Hollywood star and a six pack). Mostly, to review without prejudice, and to find that elusive film that reminds me that film is worth protecting and my script development and screenwriting are not in vain, after all.
Perhaps, given enough followers, we can truly push film into an era of originality and prosperity, so that the four horsemen of the apocalypse may be distracted from their wanton destruction, rather than enraging them further at ‘Vampire Film #23000’.
I have loved film since my parents were desperately trying to wrench me off the film couch and onto the reading couch (Happily, now, it’s a part of my career, they smile at me doing both), and an older and severely more cynical version of myself wants to help sift through the muddy river of moving pictures, to find the few sparkling treasures, in the dirt.
