The Legion of Decency

Lazy Sunday # 205: Debunked

2012-01-29T14:19:00.001-05:00

During Friday night’s “Real Time With Bill Maher” on HBO the panel discussion degenerated into chaos as all the speakers insisted they alone knew the facts and everybody else was living in a bubble that prevented them hearing the truth.

Now in most political discussions “truth’ is kind of a relative concept.

But earlier in the evening, I’d been bemused by the following tweet from a CBC Radio listener…

It would appear that no matter how often the CBC Ombudsman assures the public there is no “Left-leaning” bias at the network, some of the audience is still exercised by a diversity of views.

We all have our own prejudices and unshakable beliefs. And despite the wealth of information now available, many of us just don’t want to question the truths we hold to be self-evident.

We cling to our myths no matter how much proof is provided to debunk their existence.

And since our myths are the strands on which we’ve built the warp and woof of our cultural fabric, maybe that’s a good thing.

Or perhaps failing to debunk them is what keeps us from evolving and creating an even stronger culture…

What follows are not misconceptions which might shake our society to the core. But since I heard two of them offered on CBC News Network this week as statements of fact, it makes you wonder how much of what we’re told by any media outlet is as reliable as we might have once believed.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

The Crabby Old Man

2012-01-27T15:53:00.003-05:00

There is a poem floating –- more correctly –- flying around the internet these days. It was first shared between caregivers in nursing homes and geriatric wards.

But now its readership is growing among those of the “sandwich generation”, people in middle age caring for both their children and their aging parents.

It was found following the death of an elderly man in North Platte, Nebraska. He had died penniless and alone, a ward of the state with no relatives or close friends anyone could find.

He owned nothing of value, but in disposing of his few belongings, a nurse found a hand-written piece of paper. She was so overwhelmed by what she read, she copied it for everyone else on the ward. From there it spread.

And now it’s available to you to share…

“The Crabby Old Man”

What do you see nurses? What do you see?
What are you thinking when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food and makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice 'I do wish you'd try!'

Who seems not to notice the things that you do.
And forever is losing a sock or a shoe?
Who, resisting or not lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding the long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am . As I sit here so still,
As I do all your bidding, as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters who love one another.

A young boy of sixteen with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now a lover he'll meet.

A groom soon at twenty my heart gives a leap
Remembering, the vows that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five, now I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide and a secure happy home.

A man of thirty my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me to see I don't mourn.

At fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me my wife is now dead,
I look at the future and shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing young of their own.
And I think of the years and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man and nature is cruel. It’s jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles grace and vigor depart.
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young guy still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys. I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living life over again.
I think of the years, all too few gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes people, open and see.
Not a crabby old man. Look closer, see ME!!

Lazy Sunday #204: Scoring

2012-01-22T00:09:00.001-05:00

Those who have been paying attention know Matt Catingub as a Polynesian composer whose music has appeared in “A Beautiful Mind”, “My Best Friend’s Girl” and “Good Night And Good Luck”.

Others might know him as the conductor of the Honolulu Symphony or the musical director and arranger who toured for many years with “easy listening” artists like Rosemary Clooney.

He’s widely recognized as an expert in an era of popular music that featured the likes of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr.

It’s a genre he comes to honestly as the son of Jazz vocalist Mavis Rivers, the first female artist Sinatra signed to his renowned Reprise label.

Catingub grew up around Reprise studios and the “Rat Pack” and now keeps that music alive by taking local symphony orchestras and transforming them for an evening into the orchestras made famous by Nelson Riddle, Billy May and Count Basie.

For those who work in television, those evenings are a mix of nostalgia and musical forensics.

Because at the time Sinatra’s Rat Pack were dominating the showbiz scene and hip culture, the band leaders who composed and arranged their music were the creators or primary influence of most of the music on television.

Riddle began scoring TV series in 1962 with “Sam Benedict” and went on to “The Naked City”, “The Untouchables”, “Route 66”, “Tarzan” and many others.

May was best known for “Batman” and “The Green Hornet” as well as seasons of “The Mod Squad”, CHiPs” and “Emergency”.

They were of a time when series television was scored like movies, an entire orchestra coming into the studio and playing to projected sequences of edited film every week.

Later the process evolved to synthesizers and sampling and the same cues being recycled from episode to episode to cut down on costs.

These days it often seems like the concept of creating music to reflect and enhance the emotional intent of TV scenes has been tossed aside in favor of previously released music the audience already knows.

“Oh, there’s Nora Jones! And here comes Radiohead! Everybody cry on cue now!”

Attending one of Matt Cutingub’s concerts reminds you of the power of original orchestral music played by artists contributing their own interpretation of what the writer, director and others have put on screen.

It’s not yet a lost art, as the following clip of music from a pretty good but not much attended film exemplifies. Perhaps a reminder of how much a great score can enhance the audience experience.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

White Out / Black Out

2012-01-18T19:01:00.001-05:00

As I write this, storms blanket the American Pacific Northwest and Western Canada. It’s a virtual white out across the Left side of the continent and the people who live there have a “snow day”.

I love snow days. When I was a kid it was a day off school where you could head out to toboggan or build snow men. Or you could just hole up in front of the TV or catch up on comic books.

Snow days were our best chance to be left to our own devices and our own creativity.

As an adult, they’ve become the days when I know meetings will be cancelled, I’m less likely to be interrupted and I can maybe spend a little more time researching online to enhance a current project.

But I can’t do the latter very easily today because most of the websites which might assist my creative research aren’t available.

Google, Reddit, Wikipedia, WordPress and several hundred other branded sites are on strike today as they participate in an internet blackout to protest SOPA and PIPA, two American bills designed to place control of the internet in the hands of large (mostly American) media conglomerates.

PIPA (the Protect IP Act) and the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) are legislation that will criminalize many of those using the internet with laws written by politicians trying to please deep-pocketed copyright holders.

And if these bills are passed, your inability to find the information you need online today will become the way it is everyday -- along with seeing people being fined and jailed for doing nothing more than telling you where you can find some of what you’re looking for.

This is not about stopping online piracy or protecting jobs. It’s about forcing you to give Hollywood more of your money and making some creative endeavours against the law. Laws which reverse our current “innocent until proven guilty” way of justice.

SOPA and PIPA are designed to protect broken business models and discourage innovation. They are the Hollywood studios best hope of remaining the controlling gate-keepers of our culture.

But they are something even more troubling. They are a way for how Hollywood does business to subvert the way our governments do business.

Much has been written about the concept of “Hollywood Accounting”, the way it screws honest, hard-working people and even operates counter to laws designed to guarantee equality of employment.

In just the last year, a group of Hollywood studios were forced to admit to Ageism, that they had actively prevented screenwriters over the age of 40 from being contracted to write scripts.

The first class-action suit against the practice earned WGA writers over 40 a $90 Million settlement. Two more suits totalling $120 Million in settlement payments are in process.

Other class actions are forming to penalize the same studios for discriminatory hiring practices against women and minorities.

Are these really the kind of people politicians want to admit to befriending the next time they have to get re-elected?

And if they are, maybe those same politicians need to understand just how friendship operates at the studio level in Hollywood.

Last year, Harvey Weinstein, recognized as Hollywood’s new “God” at Sunday’s Golden Globes, attempted to purchase his old company, Miramax, back from the Disney Corporation.

He still owned a share of many of the Miramax titles he’d produced with Disney and Disney was looking to offload the imprimatur.

But in doing his due diligence, Weinstein discovered discrepancies in the earnings reports of several of those titles. Disney eventually rejected his bid. But they ended up paying him more than $75 Million in previously unreported income.

These guys can’t even be honest with one of their own.

That’s something every politician accepting not only their donations but their arguments for how or why a law should be written need to seriously consider.

For more on why SOPA and PIPA need to be stopped, please take 15 minutes to listen to one of the most internet savvy people in the world – Clay Shirky…

UPDATE: Here…

Warming Winter

2012-01-16T02:48:00.001-05:00

There’s a theory that much of what passes for Canadian artistic exceptionalism can be credited to Winter.

Yeah, the season’s a nice change when it starts. You want a white Christmas and a crisp, fresh day to start the New Year. But after that…

It’s cold. It’s dark. It’s messy. Sometimes even accomplishing the smallest errands or tasks can take forever. The Canadian Winter becomes an endurance test and experiment in isolation that forces you to hunker down and do the work – because there is no escape.

And for me, that January “We’re not even half way done” feeling hits about now. We’ve felt the lash of the first real cold snap and our options seem to narrow to Havana or hermit.

The trapped feeling usually peaks on a Monday morning like this with me staring out my window and realizing I cannot will the weather away. Time to zip into the cocoon of creativity for the duration.

Yet, those creative fires need to be stoked and what better way than with some warming music.

Harry Manx is a Toronto Blues man most of the world has never experienced. And that’s odd because he travelled the world searching for a way to match the music he loved with the music he felt inside.

He found it in India in the form of a 20 stringed instrument called the Mohan Veena which sparked an inspired musical journey, transforming not only his love of the Blues but his flat top guitar and banjo into East/West and frigid/balmy bridges.

If you’ve never heard Harry Manx, you’re in for a treat. Lay out your creative tools for the day and prepare to be swept away by a muse that will inspire and enrich your efforts.

No matter the temperature, you’re about to feel a whole lot warmer.

Lazy Sunday # 203: Shake On It

2012-01-15T02:08:00.001-05:00

The 49ers beat the Saints with 9 seconds to go after the lead changes four times in the last four minutes.

The Patriots crush a team half the country was rooting for.

And there will be more of the same today.

Monday is gonna be rough on a lot of guys.

Enjoy Your Sunday…

Tim Tebow’s Fire

2012-01-14T14:47:00.001-05:00

There’s probably nothing more American than jumping on a bandwagon.

America loves winners. Loves rubbing shoulders with them. Loves being identified as a winner by association.

It explains a lot about their politics, their celebrities and the culture.

And it feeds the need of a consumer society to keep innovating change to keep people buying something new thus keeping the money circulating.

Two months ago, barely anybody outside of football had heard of Tim Tebow. The name might’ve rung a bell from when he and his mom did a Pro-Life TV commercial. Or he was that pro-athlete who publically admitted being a virgin.

To most Americans, he was just some fringe doofus.

And then he started to win football games. Win them in the final seconds. Win doing things most people in football were certain he wasn’t capable of doing.

But instead of spouting the game theorems and cliché phrases appreciated by the Jockaucracy, Tebow didn’t talk much in the “Me” realm and credited his achievements to his spirituality, something considered wildly out-of-fashion by most in the mainstream media.

His detractors scoffed, sometimes too harshly it felt, given he was just a guy playing on a fringe football team barely hoping to make the playoffs. Who was he going to influence? What difference would he make in the grand scheme of things?

And when Tebow lost a game, there was a sudden burst of celebration from the bellwethers of the culture. A kind of sneering Edward G. Robinson, “Where’s your Messiah now, Moses?” glee.

I wondered why it was so important to marginalize this guy and even turn him into the Sarah Palin of the gridiron.

Yet Tebow kept pulling victories out of the fire, just sticking to what meagre talents he had.

And his fan base heat continued to grow, far from being fanned by a supportive media, most of whom considered him a “flash in the pan”.

Yet numbers released this week revealed that Tebow jerseys are the top seller in the league and the company whose underwear he endorses has seen its sales increase by 2000%.

When Tim Tebow won his first playoff game last Sunday -– again in a spectacular overtime sudden death display, the ratings indicated it had been seen by 25% of the country, achieving numbers only previously reached by the Super Bowl.

Suddenly the American media seemed to realize it had been ignoring a winner and better get on the bandwagon.

Those still dumping on Tim Tebow were chastised. His marketing power was touted. Presidential candidates sought his endorsement.

Others whispered that the 316 passing yards gained in his playoff win matched the number of the Bible verse the NFL forced him to remove from his eye black. Could it mean there really is a God?

If you want an answer to that question, look no further than the photo leaked this week of Tim’s girlfriend. In spiritual terms, this is what’s known as “Proof Positive, Brother!”

Unfortunately, Tim Tebow’s winning streak will likely end tonight. He’s up against a powerful team the Vegas money insists will triumph by a couple of touchdowns.

If the Denver Broncos do manage to win, expect Caesar’s Palace to add a Sistine Chapel replica to hedge its bets.

And a Denver loss will also probably cause the MSM to hop off the Tebow bandwagon and get on with doing what it appears to do best –- remain out of touch with the people who make up their audience.

But in losing, Tim Tebow will have reminded those who truly understand spirituality, the warrior’s spirit or any true faith that their belief does not provide access to some kind of magical vending machine that dispenses exactly what you want.

It’s just a way of living a life based not on wins or losses but on how well you live it and how well you treat those around you. In those terms, guys like Tim Tebow are never defeated.

The Epiphany

2012-01-09T03:51:00.001-05:00

If there’s one word every writer dreads and every story executive demands, it is “Epiphany”. That moment when the penny drops for the lead character and he realizes what the point of his cinematic journey has been, understands how to overcome the obstacles placed in his path, discovers what will bring about a successful resolution.

Without that moment the development exec knows the story probably won’t work. For cinema (and TV) is about transformation – facing a fear and finding a way to overcome it and go on to a better life.

But for the writer, scripting that scene is a bitch.

The audience can’t see it coming, but have to have all the information to know it when they see it. It’s gotta be a surprise, a revelation, a moment of blinding awe and inspiration.

Writers beat their heads against the Epiphany for hours, days, weeks even years. It demands they look at their story and their characters from every conceivable position plus a few that didn’t even make it into the Kama Sutra.

It’s hard work. The kind that makes writing painful and scary for many, causes more than a few to avoid the task at all costs and probably accounts for most cases of writer’s block.

Sometimes it wears down the development executives and the producers as well. The clock is ticking. The set needs pages. Why not just go with this. It’s worked before.

Such decisions let everyone get on with their lives – and ensure that actors like Steven Seagal maintain a career.

Safe mode is only a keystroke away.

But the reality of writing is that when you sit down to write you are taking a journey. It’s going to be long and hard. You may know exactly where you want to go. But the journey will be the one who determines what awaits you at the end.

So many elements of any journey are beyond our control. The weather changes. Planes get delayed. While you’re in the air there’s an earthquake at your destination or the economy collapses.

What we think we’re looking for is not always what we find.

But when you look back on the journeys you’ve taken – aren’t the ones with the unplanned for, unexpected twists and turns those you remember the most?

It’s the same for an audience.

I’m betting that in the last few days, a lot of writers reading this made a commitment to write something really good in 2012. To finally start or finish that story they’ve always wanted to write.

Now it’s a week into the new year. The house has never been cleaner. Everything on the “Honey-Do” list has been crossed off. You’ve even sorted all your socks and tax receipts.

But that story is still tapping its foot inside your subconscious –- waiting to hit the road.

Because the road is hard and it wears you down. And there’s always that one big hill you know you won’t be able to avoid.

Maybe you need to look at the other definition of Epiphany. The original meaning in ancient Greek -- “A Vision of God”.

In the Christian Calendar Epiphany was this weekend, January 6th – 12 days after Christmas and symbolizing the Magi (on their journey) discovering God in human form.

Whether you believe in that stuff or not is up to you. The point is, in a movie about the three wise men that discovery is their moment of…

They didn’t see it coming. It changed them completely and it made all they’d been through and still had to face worthwhile.

That’s how you have to approach your writing. Accept and try to enjoy the trials and tribulations of the journey. When you arrive at an unexpected place, don’t give up and go back and try to find the Interstate.

Let the journey take you where it wants to go.

Because when you arrive at that dreaded “E” moment, it will be so much better than what you thought you were seeking. It’ll be a surprise to you and perhaps a revelation. Which means it’s gonna awe the shit out of your audience and development exec.

The journey’s joys always outweigh the pain.

Lazy Sunday # 202: Riusuke Fukahori

2012-01-08T01:44:00.001-05:00

Good screenwriters work in layers. You don’t ever reveal a character all at once.

I mean, you can. But in an odd way, that defeats the purpose. Because knowing all there is to know about somebody from the get go turns them from a three dimensional character into one that seems flat and uninteresting.

If there’s nothing left to look for, what’s the point of watching what they do next.

So you give them a little here and a little there. The spine of the character one place and the shading in another. And as the layers overlap, the audience forms the three dimensional character you laid out for them in deft strokes of action and dialogue.

Riusuke Fukahori does much the same thing. Only he does it with paint, constructing three dimensional drawings from layer upon layer of what seem like unrelated brushstrokes.

It’s just that easy -- and that hard. Enjoy Your Sunday.

And here’s the technique…

Natural Born Filler

2012-01-07T03:43:00.001-05:00

The arrival of television's "Second Season" this month also marks the return of the overblown hyperbole machine known as Network PR.

As new series debut, the same people who mere months ago insisted "The Playboy Club", "Pan Am" and "Prime Suspect" would forever alter the television landscape are back declaring that every member of the new crop will have an even greater impact on the popular culture.

It always amazes me that those watching Entertainment News and Gossip never get tired of hearing that everybody the latest flavor of the month star or celebrity is working with is "brilliant" and a "genius". Nor do they seem to catch on to the continual disconnect between the sizzle and what's passed off as steak when it's finally delivered.

What's more, nobody every gets rude and says, "Why should I even listen to you idiots anymore after the lemon you sold me last time?"

I guess at some level we all really do want to believe we're not being toyed with and that our search for thoroughly satisfying entertainment will at last be rewarded.

And I suppose newspapers who can't afford stories written by actual journalists anymore can still attract advertising by filling up pages with unedited press releases.

But still…

Among the filler pieces I came across this week was an interview with best-selling author John Grisham hyping the upcoming premiere of the series version of his 1991 novel "The Firm" which spawned the successful 1994 film version starring Tom Cruise and Gene Hackman.

Of course, Cruise and Hackman are not in the TV sequel, nor is its plot the one that fans of Grisham's book or the resulting Robert Towne scripted film may recall.

In this version, brilliant Harvard lawyer Mitch McDeere emerges from a decade in witness protection after exposing his mob-connected law firm and suddenly finds himself partnered with another firm who ("Oh no, it's happening again!) are apparently also up to no good.

I guess Harvard Law doesn't offer a course in conducting "Due Diligence".

And you'd figure a guy who's really smart might realize that the Witness Protection Program is there because there really are people who don't forgive and forget.

A few years ago, I wrote a pilot that had me hop-scotching the USA to interview real people in real Witness Protection. They weren't the nicest folks I've ever met. And none of them liked the places to which the Federal Marshals had dispatched them for their own safety. But not one was dumb enough to think bygones would one day be bygones.

Now, I have no idea whether "The Firm" is or is not good television. It might well be the kind I hate and a whole lot of other people really like -- or vice versa. I'm led to believe its "Canadian" although few of the creative 'above the line' appear to be legitimate frostbacks.

But in a world where "The Tudors" and "The Borgias" are "Canadian" with even fewer bodies on staff who might have once attended a hockey game or bobbed their heads to "Nickleback", I guess that's possible.

No. My beef is with the bullshit.

Despite a number of reviews which can best be described as tepid at best, John Grisham insists "The Firm" will (unlike his last TV foray "The Client") be a hit, also stating that he's a big fan of all the other lawyers turned writers or producers staffing the show and has been having great fun watching the characters come to life on set.

But you gotta wonder if that's what he really feels in his heart. Or at least the heart we've been led to believe he wears on his sleeve.

Those who know Grisham's history might recall that he once took on an Oliver Stone movie called "Natural Born Killers" after a pair of copy-cat teens brutally murdered one of his close friends claiming they'd been inspired by the movie's mayhem.

Grisham wrote a scathing essay in a magazine he published demanding a First Amendment (Freedom of Speech) exception be made so that those involved in the film could be called to account.

"The notion of holding filmmakers and studios legally responsible for their products has always been met with guffaws from the industry. But the laughing will soon stop. It will take only one large verdict against the likes of Oliver Stone, and his production company, and the screenwriter, and the studio itself, and then the party will be over! Once a precedent is set, the litigation will become contagious, and the money will become enormous. Hollywood will suddenly discover a desire to rein itself in. The landscape of American jurisprudence is littered with the remains of large, powerful corporations which once thought themselves bulletproof and immune from responsibility for their actions. Sadly, Hollywood will have to be forced to shed some of its own blood before it learns to police itself".

Grisham's displeasure with those in any way associated with "Natural Born Killers" was so great that he personally stopped the studio filming his next novel "A Time To Kill" from hiring "Killers" star Woody Harrelson.

And yet, he now seems positively tickled to death that Harrelson's co-star, Juliette Lewis, is part of the cast of "The Firm".

Odd when you consider that for several years, the death of his friend had caused Grisham to forbid his publisher from selling the film rights for any of his books to a Hollywood Studio.

Or maybe time heals all wounds. Eventually we all realize we need to forgive and forget. At least that sentiment might explain the inexplicable "The mob's probably over it by now" premise of the series.

And perhaps, like a lot of writers, Grisham's characters are based on his own self. Maybe like Mitch McDeere, he sometimes just goes along to get along.

If not, he might've noticed that Executive Producer John Morayniss sat for many, many years atop the Writers Guild of Canada's "Unfair Engagers" list.

Now, I don't know what producorial faux pas or Guild misdemeanor Mr. Morayniss committed to earn this ignominy. But it meant Canadian screenwriters were forbidden from being contracted by him for a very long time and it became somewhat of an industry joke that the thing never seemed to get settled.

You really wondered what the poor bastard could've done, given that other Guild Grievances were being dropped without serious penalty (literally by the hundreds).

But around the time The Firm's production company (Entertainment One) came along, he finally disappeared from the list. I asked my Guild rep what had happened, but never got an answer.

Maybe at the heart of Grisham's gushing over "The Firm" there's a lawyer's implicit understanding that we all deserve the chance to one day freely return to society. Maybe he's just happy he dodged his own bullet because no parent blew away their kid's rapist and claimed they were inspired by "A Time To Kill".

Or -- he's just another guy with a 275-Million-copies-sold gift for fiction moving some product. Which -- kinda flies in the face of the image constantly painted of a man with a passion for truth and justice.

And that leaves me feeling "The Firm" might not be what it's being cracked up to be. Meaning in a few short months the hyperbole machine will be back, once more promising me something else it likely won't deliver.

New Year / New Music

2012-01-02T12:53:00.001-05:00

Nobody told me this was a Stat Holiday…

I’m thinking it’s some kind of plot to make people feel they don’t really have to get started on their New Year’s resolutions. Some automatic cheat day or 24 hour grace period.

As for me, I stuck with the program. Got up earlier than the dog for a change. Hustled her butt through the park. Turned up showered, shaved and wearing a crisply starched shirt. Only to discover nobody else was ready to play.

So now I’ve got time on my hands – always a dangerous state for yours truly. That “Idle hands are the devil’s tools” thing was coined with me in mind.

So the idle hands plugged in one of the new albums I bought over the holidays and then I figured why not tempt others away from what they thought they’d accomplish today.

I’m Satan. Plain and simple.

And as we all know, I’m a fan of Country Music.

But there are some interesting new breezes blowing across that landscape. Some of the bands I’m introducing you to today have been around a while. But they’ll probably be new to most of you.

So think of this as “Out with the Old – In with the New” for your 2012 listening habits.

First up, The Avett Brothers, Country Music Television’s “New Artist of 2011”. They’re followed by “Mumford & Sons” and “Old Crow Medicine Show”. I know you’ll like ‘em. I hope you’ll want to hear more of what they do.

The Avett Brothers

Mumford & Sons

Old Crow Medicine Show

Lazy Sunday #201: Starting 2012 With A Bang!

2012-01-01T00:06:00.001-05:00

Yes, what better way to welcome in a new year than with the first fireworks extravaganza of 2012 from Sydney Australia’s inner harbor where it’s already January 2nd…

Toggle full screen and turn up the speakers if you’re able.

And if that’s a little bit dangerous today, knock back some ASA and Gatorade and try to – Enjoy Your Sunday.

Regular blogging at The Legion resumes on Tuesday. Hope you had a great holiday –- and my best wishes for 2012. May it make all your dreams come true.

And what’s more…

Merry Christmas, Everybody!

2011-12-24T21:52:00.001-05:00

It’s been a tough year for a lot of people on a lot of levels. But it’s also been a year when our better natures came to the fore.

There is Peace this night in places that have not known it for years and millions tasting freedom for the first time in their lives.

I don’t know if the good guys are winning, but we’re certainly holding our own. And a season born out of hope for the future feels more hopeful than it has in a while.

I hope this Christmas makes all your wishes and dreams come true and its spirit carries you through the year to come.

Thanks so much for continuing to drop by The Legion. I hope I can continue to give you a reason to do that.

As the duo in tonight’s carol symbolizes, it’s all a matter of setting your sights on perfection while not forgetting where you come from.

Merry Christmas!

In The Spirit Of The Season…

2011-12-22T13:34:00.001-05:00

Every year, there seems to be an escalation of what’s been called “The War On Christmas”. Somehow a season that’s all about peace, goodwill and generosity gets construed by some as being an “offensive” concept to somebody else.

Yet for all the “Holiday Trees” and “Best of the Season” cards, I can’t recall ever meeting anybody of any race, creed or religion who got even a little sideways over me or anybody else celebrating Christmas.

And if you want proof that the entire premise of the anti-Christmas argument is bogus, you need look no further than this note posted in the window of a New York Chinese restaurant, directed to its Jewish clientele…

Merry Christmas! 和平 And Shalom…

The 2011 Legion Christmas Concert

2011-12-21T14:17:00.001-05:00

On Christmas seasons past I’ve waxed poetic about the school concerts I was part of as a kid, posted reader favorites and taken you on a cross country winter tour.

This year, I wanted a Concert with a definite Canadian theme.

Maybe just because that wasn’t reflected in any of the seasonal specials offered by our nation’s broadcasters via Russell Peters, Justin Bieber or even the folks at CBC tasked at keeping the home fires burning.

Kevin O’Leary as “Scrooge”! Srsly? Is that merely a lame joke or just more pointless cross-and-self-promotion?

Thing is, Canadians feel a certain ownership of Christmas. We’ve got the snow and the trees and both official North Poles (geographic and magnetic). Our immigrant population has embedded the Christmas traditions of every single country of the world.

Both the White House and Buckingham Palace officially import our chocolates and candy for the season. We send New York’s Rockefeller Centre its tree. And without ex-pat Canadian writers most Christmas parties would roll away the shrimp tray at sunset in LA.

We began celebrating Christmas 200 years before there was a Charles Dickens to codify the traditions and 300 before Coke rebranded Santa.

In 1643, Jesuit Missionary Jean de Brebeuf penned one of the first Christmas carols and the first written in the language of the Huron/Wendet people he was trying to convert.

The monk was martyred a short time later by the Iriquois, but his carol lived on to be translated into English in 1926. Now sung in many languages in many churches it reflects both Christian and Aboriginal spirituality…

“Twas in the moon of wintertime when all the birds had fled
That mighty Gitchi Manitou sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim and wondering hunters heard the hymn, Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria”

The best selling Christmas album this season is by Canadian Michael Buble, arranged and produced by fellow Canadian David Foster. Among its tunes is “It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas” by Broadway Composer Meredith Willson.

“There’s a tree in the Grand Hotel and one in the park as well…”

And a lot of people claim Willson wrote those words while vacationing in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia where he stayed at the Grand Hotel which had a tree in the lobby and where his room overlooked another decorated tree in Frost Park across the street.

Further proof of our special connection to Christmas.

And to close, a brand new Christmas song by Sarah McLachlan and the students of her Vancouver Music School. I have a feeling this will be a seasonal tradition by next year.

Christmas in Canada. The Giving never stops.

The Ripple Effect

2011-12-20T17:38:00.001-05:00

Situated amid my social media hubs are two distinct groups of filmmakers.

One makes a living working in the production industry while the second group is either breaking into the business or pinning their career hopes on the future of new media platforms.

Both are intelligent and media savvy, updating regularly on the industry while spinning this news in whichever direction they hope the zeitgeist will respond –- responses that will impact the futures in which they are personally invested.

One such topic arose last week when Comedian Louis CK produced and released his own stand-up special online. At $5/purchase, CK gave buyers multiple downloads and streams of his show and rang up $200,000 in profits virtually overnight.

His venture eliminated all the media middlemen from development executives to distributors, all of whom take a cut of the work of most artists.

What’s more, no one had interfered with, attempted to enhance, censored or appended any other agenda to his artistic vision.

Louis CK had, in this single bold move, end run the gatekeepers and turned a quick dollar – the double Holy Grail for most media artists.

As CK described the process, “I paid for the production and posting of this video with my own money. I would like to be able to post more material to the fans in this way, which makes it cheaper for the buyer and more pleasant for me”.

The initial reaction among the non-mainstream set was that this was a “Game-Changer” finally opening the floodgates of internet media sales for all.

Meanwhile, the established applauded Louis CK’s success while pointing out he was an established artist who had garnered fame (and therefore the ability to exploit it) via mainstream television.

I tend to think they’re both right.

And they’re both wrong.

That’s because while our attention is always drawn to the big splash a rock makes when it lands in a pond, it is the ripples of the impact that change the surrounding environment.

What’s become clear over the last months is that both producers and consumers are realizing what threatens the current way shows are delivered while undermining piracy is price point and accessibility.

We’ve become an “On Demand” culture in which exposure drives audiences to seek content it has missed, can’t afford at the studio/network dictated price or doesn’t have access to because its geo-blocked or just unavailable.

It’s true that Louis CK has a high level of brand awareness because of his previous Stand-up specials, talk show appearances and the FX network series “Louie”. But his public profile is not as pervasive as some might think.

For all his appeal to a hip comedy crowd, “Louie” rarely attracts more than 700,000 weekly viewers and averages about 2/3 that audience in repeats.

Indeed, the show only found a place on FX because CK traded total creative autonomy (no network notes) in exchange for making his series at a MUCH lower budget than their other programming.

CK also told NPR this week that he has never made any money beyond his upfront fees for ANY of his previous specials.

So – Big Time TV Star? No.

And while this success at marketing his exceptional talent may finally earn him a decent pay check, it could mean much more for other comics while spelling trouble to HBO, Showtime and other Pay and Specialty networks who depend on comedy specials to draw an audience.

If Louis CK can sell 100,000 downloads in 4 days, what numbers might Chris Rock, Jerry Seinfeld, Russell Peters or even Russell Brand rack up?

And where do the networks depending on these stars turn if they are no longer available to them while competing online for the same audience?

Does it mean previously under-exposed comedians will now get shows or do networks break the bank to hang onto the big stars and their audiences?

And will audiences continue paying or even pay more to keep the current gatekeepers in business?

Dan Harmon, showrunner of NBC’s “Community” has suggested that he could deliver a 13 episode, uncensored “direct to viewers” version of his show for $50/subscriber.

But does that make sense to an audience who can already access the broadcast version, purchase a 20 episode NBC season for less than that via iTunes or wait for a DVD box-set season marketed for even less?

And what if Louis CK uses his newfound audience database to market his own slate of favorite, unknown or under-appreciated comics? Where do the networks turn then?

New Media advocates would suggest they will turn to them and that Louis CK’s marketing coup will convince investors that their product can be similarly marketed. But can it?

Louis CK’s show was developed over months of concert engagements, honed by an experienced master of Stand-up. The production itself was budgeted at $170,000 and filmed over two nights at New York’s Beacon Theatre, a venue that could draw exactly the right live-audience demographic.

The finished show is as polished as any HBO Special, for CK understood one thing many championing New Media do not.

Audiences know the difference between professional and crap.

And what they will endure for a few minutes of YouTube video or webisode is not what they will reach into their pockets to pay for.

CK then further invested $32,000 in a website that could correctly service the product while spending more to allow credit card and Paypal sales.

Therefore, anybody following the same model needs to come up with almost a quarter of a million dollars just to get into the game. For most of the new wave that’s not anywhere near a number that can be confidently crowd funded.

Yet this and other trends in online marketing may convince risk friendly investors to begin kicking their tires.

Last year, Lee Goldberg, an American author unable to sell any of his 15 novels to a publisher, dumped them all on Amazon’s Kindle site and 12 months later had earned $300,000 after fees and expenses.

Meanwhile, previously published British Psychologist Richard Wiseman discovered he couldn’t find a US publisher for his new book “Paranormality” unless he reversed its central premise that ghosts and psychics were bogus. He went the kindle route as well – and suddenly had a mainstream best seller on his hands.

And then there’s “Lamb”, a barely known electronica duo from England who’d broken up in 2005. No record company would even advance them enough to cover the meagre studio costs of a comeback album. So, they announced they were back and took pre-orders online, tripling all of their past sales before they’d even stepped into a studio.

So the money is there.

Provided you have a product someone wants.

Provided you offer it a price that will both turn consumers from Corporate product and dissuade them from piracy.

And perhaps most important, provided you make it available in a format that does not restrict either your customer’s usage of the product or their ability to share it with their friends.

Ultimately, I don’t think “Louis CK Live At The Beacon” is a game changer. But if you follow where its ripple effect leads, you may begin to see major changes taking place.

And I think that means the New media crowd must start approaching the future much more pragmatically, while those already established need to consider that the system that’s always worked for them may soon begin to crumble.

Here’s an outtake from Louis CK’s Special. You can order your own copy of the full show here. Trust me, it’s well worth your time and money.

“You Gotta Believe. Every Day.”

2011-12-18T16:52:00.001-05:00

I’ve never been a fan of the Denver Broncos. No reason really. The Philadelphia Eagles just got to me first.

But then the Eagles hired a quarterback named Michael Vick and I signed off for reasons I’ve related previously.

Since then I’ve bounced around the League like a CFL wide receiver trying to make the practice squad, spending time rooting for New Orleans, Green Bay, Oakland and Buffalo.

Then along came a guy named Tim Tebow.

Tim was a star at the University of Florida where he won the coveted Heisman trophy in his sophomore year. On graduation, he was drafted by the Broncos. But nobody seriously considered he’d have a noteworthy NFL career.

Without going into details that would put anybody but football-geeks to sleep, Tebow’s skillset is better suited to the wide open game of the CFL than the way the NFL plays.

But he came to national attention after admitting to be a virgin in a televised post-game interview and then agreeing to do a Pro-Life commercial with his mother that ran during the Super Bowl.

Now, Tim had a particular and personal reason for being Pro-Life. His parents were Baptist missionaries in the Philippines when he was conceived and during her pregnancy, his mother experienced complications that threatened her life. The doctors recommended an abortion. She refused.

Between that and his homeschool upbringing, Tebow developed a strong set of Christian values – values that don’t fit the current template for sports heroes and celebrities.

That’s led to a lot of mocking the man and a gang of pundits piling on with expert opinions on his lack of technique and/or football smarts.

Through all of it, Tebow has continued to profess his faith, openly pray on the sidelines and – win football games.

He began the 2011 season as the Broncos’ backup quarterback, moving to start after Denver had lost five of their first six.

Since then, he’s quarterbacked them to a division leading 8-5 record, virtually all of those wins coming after being down by several points in the final quarter.

Yet, somehow, all of that success had made him an even bigger target for those who don’t much care for what people like Tim Tebow stand for.

And it has led to a lot of discussion about whether religion has any place in professional sport and how anyone could believe a Supreme Being has any interest in the outcome of a football game.

All of which completely misses the point.

Now, I’m a Christian, albeit not a very good one. And maybe for those reasons or a lot of others, I don’t hold with some of what Tim Tebow stands for either.

But that doesn’t stop me from admiring what he does.

At its core, football, and just about every other professional endeavor, is about character and believing you can overcome whatever adversities you face.

As Tim Tebow has often said, “If you believe, unbelievable things become possible”.

Whether you believe your fate is in your own hands or those of an invisible friend, the process is the same – you just never stop believing.

That flies in the face of the multitudes who would prefer you fail, for their own selfish reasons or just because unexplained success or achievement that hasn’t been pre-approved only makes their failings and inadequacies appear even larger.

But the rule still holds. You get nowhere without believing completely in something.

The following is Tim Tebow in a hopeless situation last Sunday. He’ll be in an even more impossible today against the New England Patriots and Tom Brady (who’s generally accepted as the embodiment of Satan in places like Buffalo).

Oh, ye of little faith – pay attention! This guy is onto something.

Lazy Sunday #200: The Bloody Olive

2011-12-18T01:02:00.001-05:00

I’m thinking that 2011 was the year that couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.

One of those, “The ‘War on Terror’ 2000s are over with Bin Ladin dead and troops out of Iraq and the 2010s haven’t decided what their theme is yet –- so… we’re just marking time…?”.

Think about it –- Newt Gingrich is running for President and Prince is on tour. Does that make it 1995 all over again?

The most anticipated film of the year is a silent movie. Are the 1920’s about to come roaring back?

Wait. Unemployment is skyrocketing, everybody’s in debt and the banks are collapsing. So it’s like the 1930’s, right?

Time Magazine names “The Protestor” their Person Of The Year. Then it’s the 60’s that are on the horizon?

Man, I hope so. I can still fit into that fringe jacket in the closet and I look bitchin’ in it too!

In searching around for something that symbolized this confusion, I found a wonderful little film by Belgian filmmaker Vincent Bal.

It was filmed in 1996, in B&W and as an homage to film noirs of the 1940’s and 50’s, so it fits our schizophrenic present to a T.

And it takes place at Christmas, so that works too!

Please don’t try to figure it out until the end –- because, trust me, you won’t.

It’s very 2011. But a great way to –- Enjoy Your Sunday!

Saving The Rain (Coast) Deer

2011-12-13T21:26:00.001-05:00

No matter where you live in Canada, there are usually wild critters nearby.

A few years ago, I bought a farm about 40 minutes from downtown Toronto, soon realizing it was also home to rabbits, raccoons, foxes, coyotes, herds of deer and the occasional Lynx or Bobcat.

Bears regularly rooted through the garbage in nearby towns, much like the one discovered yesterday in a Vancouver dumpster usually home to junkies and disowned NHL Goalies.

The bear was quickly tranquillized and transported to the relative safety of the Squamish Valley.

From the reactions of the crowd in the above video, you can tell that many Canadians have a warm spot for the animals that surround us.

Like all those who live in proximity to wildlife, we tend not to anthropomorphize them. But we also seem more aware that they’re sentient creatures as unsure of us as we are of them, but with similar needs and frailties.

Which brings me to a story that occurred a little further up the rainy West coast.

Fisherman Tom Satre, of Sitka, Alaska, was out with a charter group when the four black-tailed deer pictured at the top of this post swam to his boat and began circling it.

Satre realized they were tired and cold and likely had been in the frigid water for some time. He and his charter group immediately hauled them aboard.

The deer collapsed on the deck as Satre turned his boat for shore.

According to Satre, “Once we reached the dock, the first
buck we pulled from the water hopped onto the dock, looked back as if to say 'thank you' and disappeared into the forest.”

With a little help, the others followed, leaving everyone aboard with the impression that animals normally terrified of people had realized people were their only hope for survival when they got into trouble.

It’s an impression more of us should work at fostering.

Trilogy Updates

2011-12-13T14:47:00.001-05:00

PART ONE

In which we attempted to discern the likeliest Summer Blockbuster flop of 2012…

There were a lot of votes for “John Carter” since nobody can quite figure out to whom or on the basis of what Disney is marketing it.

Watching the latest trailer makes you realize how much of this franchise has already been “borrowed” by previous Blockbusters. And using the Led Zeppelin inspired theme for previous flop “Godzilla” doesn’t help.

Others suggested nobody needed a superhero reboot barely 10 years after it was last done. And since Marvel won’t veer much from comic gospel, what audiences have not already seen of “The Amazing Spiderman”, they’ve experienced in video games.

But the consensus pick was “Total Recall”.

Personally, I never got the popularity of the original. And veering closer to Philip K. Dick’s original story, “I Can Remember It For You Wholesale” may sound laudable, but...

Banking on the “which memories are real and which aren’t” might work in the internal world of print but that scenario might be a little inside when you need more than 100 million people to buy tickets just to break even.

Add a director with dreck like “Underworld: Evolution” and “Live Free or Die Hard” on his resume and you begin to sense a disaster of biblical proportions. They don’t even let this guy helm the franchise he INVENTED anymore!

No trailer available for “Total Recall” yet. So I guess we gotta go with this…

PART TWO

This post questioned some of the high end Christmas gifts being advertised this year and wondered if somebody could top the Million Dollar Porsche Advent Calendar or the completely pointless Neiman Marcus 20 sq. ft. edible gingerbread house.

I got lots of other items from the Neiman-Marcus catalogue – my fave being the celebrity designer hosted tequila party for 75.

But other items reflected a mean-spirited and even flat out hatred for Christmas like the Martha Stewart Animated Snake Wreath.

However, when it comes Christmas cruelty, I don’t think you can top this – the puzzle locked toilet paper dispenser.

Srsly people! The season is supposed to be about caring…

PART THREE

Finally, I directed you to two worthy Christmas Charity initiatives backed by members of the Canadian Showbiz community.

In return, I got a couple of official looking reminders that Justin Bieber has a Christmas Special on CTV December 22nd, with all proceeds going to his BELIEVE foundation.

Actor Tom Jackson continues his Christmas tradition of criss-crossing the country performing in support of local food banks and community services. You can find out when he’ll be near you here.

But my favorite link came via the band Canada supposedly loves to hate –- “Nickleback”.

Seems Chilliwack rockers “Pardon My Striptease” recently released a single to help the BC Children’s Hospital, where lead singer Andrew Putt’s one year old daughter Lilee-Jean had undergone lifesaving treatment.

Their song “Pray (For LJ)” had begun selling when the band challenged another local band, “Nickleback”, to match the money it raised.

“Nickleback” accepted the challenge and now “Pray (For LJ)” has passed their own new hit “When We Stand Together” as the top selling Canadian song on iTunes.

So far, Nickleback has donated $50,000 to the BC Children’s Hospital.

Now that’s making a difference! And you can make it a bigger one by purchasing the song for only 99 cents on iTunes.

Lazy Sunday # 199: The Water Commercial

2011-12-11T00:11:00.001-05:00

On one level, I understand the popularity of bottled water. Convenient, portable, available, etc.

But on a lot of levels, I don’t. It’s water. It’s as close to free as you can get at home. You can put it in a bottle yourself and save looking for a store and lining up behind all those people buying lottery tickets.

Where the concept completely loses me is when I’m standing in front of the cooler staring at an array of twenty different brands and bottle shapes.

What’s the difference? It’s water.

That said, if I’m ever in France, I will be looking for one brand in particular.

Why?

Because their commercials always make me smile. Enjoy Your Sunday.

These Things Come In Threes: Part Three

2011-12-10T21:20:00.001-05:00

A few years ago, I asked a showbiz friend of mine what he’d like for Christmas. He said, “How about a couple hours of your time?”.

A week or so later, just before Christmas and on one of the coldest nights of the year, he called and told me he needed those hours and he wasn’t taking a rain check.

I turned up at his place to discover about a dozen other people he hung around with, all of us wondering what the heck was going on.

We soon learned that he and his wife had gone out and bought a few dozen pairs of mitts, toques and blankets which his kids had carefully wrapped around an inner core of dried fruit, candies, toiletries and a booklet of free hamburger meals.

We each got an armful and were instructed to hit the streets until we found people who could make use of the gift.

We froze our asses off, wandering parts of town most people don’t frequent at night until all of our bundles were delivered.

Every single one of us volunteered to help the next year.

We all try to do something for those in need during the Christmas season. But every now and then somebody steps up and does something special. Something you wish you’d thought of. Something you know will make a big difference in the life of somebody you don’t even know.

Sometimes people in this business do things unrelated to it that make you very proud.

If you listen to Diane Wild’s “TV-Eh?” podcasts or visit the website of the same name, you’ll be aware that she has been gathering items from others in the Canadian TV game for an auction to benefit Kids Help Phone, an organization that offers anonymous and confidential phone and online counselling for kids with a problem and nobody to talk to about it.

That auction launches Monday. Please check Diane’s website then and bid on something.

Meanwhile, Lifestyle director extraordinaire, Catherine Swing, is hoping you’ll contribute to Walls of Hope Canada’s new initiative, “The Dream Room”.

Walls of Hope is an organization that renovates and customizes homes for people in need and “The Dream Room” will help children facing a terminal or life challenging illness, providing them a special place of their own within their family home.

I spent a great part of my own childhood in hospital or sick at home and I know from personal experience how much of a difference it makes to have a space that reflects your dreams and aspirations rather than the reality you’re facing.

If you live in the Greater Toronto Area, Walls of Hope is hosting their second annual “Hard Hats & Halos” Gala in March. Tickets would make a great Christmas present to anybody you know – and especially those who love renovation and makeover shows.

If you know somebody in Canadian Showbiz doing something special to help those less fortunate this Holiday season, email, tweet or comment here at the Legion and we’ll pass the information along.

I’ve been looking for third suggestions on today’s posts. But in this case we’ll add all the links submitted to an update that will publish Monday.

These Things Come In Threes: Part Two

2011-12-10T15:36:00.001-05:00

The Rich are different from the rest of us. Always have been.

A couple of years ago, I had the pleasure of producing and directing a TV pilot partially shot at Vieux le Vicomte, the magnificent French castle pictured above at Christmas.

The place was overwhelming in its opulence, with expansive gardens, fountains and statuary. More overwhelming when you learned that it had been built for a family of three.

Vieux le Vicomte was the blueprint for the Palace of Versailles that stands just a few clicks down the road, with mansions of similar stature dotting the landscape as you travel between one and the other.

Each of these places required thousands of docile peasants to finance, maintain and service, people who lived lives of poverty and desperation.

Well, nobody says life is fair. But being amid those stately homes sure made it easy to understand how the French Revolution finally came along.

These days, we pride ourselves on being more thoughtful, empathetic and aware.

But we’re not.

With millions losing their jobs and homes or living under crushing austerity measures imposed to protect banks and financial institutions who either manufactured or were too dumb to predict the economic crisis, Porsche has designed a unique gift for those who still have a little cash left to spend on bling.

For only $1 Million, the automaker will supply you with a 6 foot tall aluminum “Advent Calendar” which, unlike the dollar store ones which dispense a single chocolate each day before Christmas, has something else inside its little windows.

Stuff like a Porsche Stopwatch, a full Porsche Kitchen and motor launch with a 525 HP Mercury engine.

Pity the Porsche designers didn’t consider that anybody who’d spring for one of these likely isn’t much of an Advent observing Christian.

Meanwhile, all those Canadian politicians either screaming about or claiming they’d done all they should for the slowly freezing to death and sewage drinking people of Attawapiskat this week will all be bellying up to the sumptuous seasonal cocktail buffets in the days to come, as they enjoy the hospitality of various government departments and foreign embassies.

I’m told the spread laid out by the Freedom of Speech, Votes for Women and Gay rights supporting nation of Saudi Arabia is one no MP misses –- none.

And hey, maybe they’re just hoping to change some minds, maybe convince somebody to spring for a gift for our hungry and homeless.

Maybe they could kill those two birds with one stone and purchase the Neiman Marcus Edible Gingerbread House – only $15,000.

Said house measures over 20 square feet with a six foot ceiling and is constructed of 381 lbs. of gourmet gingerbread and 517 lbs. of royal icing, not to mention giant cookies, lollipops, mints, gumdrops and the like.

No word on whether Gingerbread improves the taste of raw sewage.

I’m not saying people shouldn’t enjoy Christmas or spend their money in the way they want. But sometimes the wilful blindness to the what’s going on in the rest of the world just beggars belief.

Let me know your own “Most Inappropriate Christmas Gift”. Email, Tweet or add a comment. It will be added to an update of this post on Monday.

These Things Come In Threes: Part One

2011-12-10T03:17:00.001-05:00

I’m looking for some feedback on a few topics.

So, I’m posting three different questions today offering two-thirds of a trilogy and letting you fill in the final piece.

Two Summer Blockbuster trailers were released this week and if they are any indication, 2012 could finally be the Summer when Hollywood reverses the tent pole feature concept that started way back in 1973 with “Jaws”.

First trailer up was, “The Three Stooges” by the eminently talented Peter and Bobby Farrelly, who have given us such brilliant comedies as “There’s Something About Mary”, “Dumb and Dumber” and the highly underrated “Kingpin”.

The Farrellys have been working on this project, a personal homage and labor of love, for 15 years, waiting for just the right combination of elements to ensure its success.

At one stage in its development, press leaks indicated the cast included Jim Carey as “Curly” and Sean Penn as “Larry”. That smacked of brilliance to me and I was really looking forward to what promised to be a very special film.

So I was surprised when first Penn and then Carey departed. I wondered if the financing had gotten shaky or somebody at the studio wanted the film to resonate with a younger, maybe edgier comedy audience.

And then I saw the trailer…

Instead of a movie about “The Three Stooges” what the Farrellys have constructed is their own version of the comic shorts they loved as kids.

Nuns in Bikinis? The cast of Jersey Shore? Srsly…?

I’m predicting major tankage.

But I’m not sure “The Three Stooges” will do as badly as “Battleship” which released an updated (and presumably more polished) trailer this week.

If you recall the once last summer concentrated on the films characters and relationships revealing that it actually had neither.

It was also clear that the studio had paid Millions to Hasbro for the rights to a game that had nothing whatsoever to do with the finished film.

Something similar happened with the 1996 Demi Moore movie “Striptease” based on Carl Hiaasen best seller. When Hiaasen saw the rough cut, he offered to give the studio back what they’d paid him so he could sell the book to somebody who might shoot the story he’d actually written.

But maybe Hasbro handed over more than the title to a far from engrossing or dramatic board game. From the looks of things, the film includes a few of the Transformers toys they haven’t yet managed to place in that franchise.

Not to mention the chance to reuse all the CGI wireframes from any number of mayhem riddled films of summers past.

I’m sure there’s also a Liam Neeson action figure in the works to enhance the marketing.

Judge for yourself.

So – if these things come in threes – as disasters often seem to – let me know what you think the third big budget stinker of Summer 2012 will be. Email, tweet or register a comment. I’ll post the consensus choice in a Monday update.

Just when you thought it was finally safe to get out of the water and go see a movie…

How Does That Go Again…?

2011-12-09T15:00:00.001-05:00

‘Tis the season when people gather for Christmas parties, office holiday get-togethers and roam the malls dressed in Charles Dickens hand-me-downs, all singing the traditional songs of the season.

And there’s not much worse than launching into one of your favorites and realizing you’re belting out Mariah Carey’s version while everybody else knows the real words.

Therefore, please click the link below to find your own downloadable and printable (PDF format) song book of Christmas classics.

No more “Jeff’s nuts roasting on an open fire” or “Get dressed you married gentlemen”. Now you’ll be doing the lines as written.

And isn’t that what a lot of screenwriters wish for at Christmas?

h/t The Sagacious Iconoclast

Not So Little Drummer Boy

2011-12-08T23:45:00.001-05:00

Winnipeg and Manitoba have a long and storied history of spawning some of Canada’s greatest musicians.

From Chad Allen & The Expressions (aka “The Guess Who”) to the legendary Lenny Breau, through “Bachman Turner Overdrive” and “Red Rider” to the “Crash Test Dummies”, Chantal Kreviazuk and Susan Aglukark – it’s been one mid-country hit after another.

Am I the only guy who still remembers “Gettysbyrg Address”?

Well, the music hasn’t stopped.

Get into the Christmas spirit with Winnipeg’s new “Golden Boy” Sean Quigley, a high school kid with a monster Christmas hit on his hands – hands which are somewhat magical when it comes to drumming.

Bing and Ziggy never sounded this good…

You can download a copy of Sean’s updated Christmas carol here.

The Return

2011-12-07T14:31:00.001-05:00

Honolulu -- December 7, 1941. 2,403 Americans were killed during the Japanese sneak attack on Pearl Harbor, including 58 aboard the USS Utah.

Honolulu – December 7, 2011. 70 years later, a sailor holds an urn with the ashes of Pearl Harbor survivor Lee Soucy.

Soucy, who died last year at the age of 90, wanted his ashes interred with his lost shipmates inside the USS Utah.

Who Says You Can’t Ski In The City?

2011-12-06T23:28:00.001-05:00

There are people who live to ski. And this time of year can be rough on a lot of them.

Winter’s here. But it’s not. There’s snow. In some places. Fresh powder way up in the mountains. Grey slush in the city where you are.

What’s a guy to do?

Ski the city…?

You can’t ski a city.

Can you…?

Last year, Canadian ski movie filmmaker Dave Mossop (Green Cap) and buddies JP Auclair (visor), Rory Bushfield and Andrew Hardingham decided to see if that concept would fly.

Using the streets of Nelson, Trail and Rossland, BC, they put together one of the most spectacular ski sequences you’ll ever see.

Has the age of “urban skiing” arrived?

You tell me.

JP Auclair Street Segment (from All.I.Can.) from Sherpas Cinema on Vimeo.

Lazy Sunday # 198: Tuba Christmas

2011-12-04T03:19:00.001-05:00

There are basically three kinds of Christmas traditions.

There are those everybody is familiar with, Midnight Mass, Santa Claus, the tree and the gifts, turkey and stuffing.

There are those that evolve within families, recreating the moments everybody treasures from Christmases past.

And then there’s the third kind. The kind that don’t make a lot of sense – but still keep coming back year after year.

William Bell was born on Christmas Day, 1902 and went on to become the premier player and teacher of the tuba for most of the twentieth century.

He began his career with John Philip Sousa and went on to play with the New York Philharmonic and help found the NBC Symphony orchestra.

Among Bell’s protégés was Alec Wilder, a mostly self-taught composer who wrote eleven operas and composed Jazz pieces for odd combinations of instruments.

Wilder also loved Christmas and published the first arrangements of Christmas carols for – of all things – the tuba. In an odd twist, he died on Christmas Eve.

Among Wilder’s protégés was Harvey Philips, who thought it would be a great idea to have as many tuba players as he could find play Wilder’s arrangements to honor Bell on his birthday.

The first Tuba Christmas was held on the ice rink in New York’s Rockefeller Center in 1974. More than 300 players gathered to play various instruments of the tuba family, including sousaphones and the euphonium. One or two brought along the rarest members, the helicon and the serpent.

The concert was a smash hit and has been repeated every year since. It also spawned Tuba Christmas concerts in thousands of cities all around the world.

In every case, the organizers try to find as many players as they can ranging in age from school kids no bigger than their instrument to octogenarians who have played it all their lives. The sizes of the orchestras range from the official minimum of 4 to several hundred.

A lot of people don’t find the sound of the tuba all that pleasant. But I’m here to tell you that in a bunch they are something to behold.

It’s likely there’s a Tuba Christmas concert happening near you this Holiday Season. I have a feeling that if you attend once, Tuba Christmas will become one of your own seasonal traditions.

Someday, it might just become one of those that everybody associates with Christmas.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

Tuba Christmas from Christopher Polydoroff on Vimeo.

The Christmas Parking Trick

2011-12-03T21:14:00.001-05:00

All you people running a top-notch Canadian productivity website need to pick up this post, because I just discovered a way to save about two hours on every Christmas shopping trip.

You know what it’s like out there this time of year. The stores and malls are jammed and the parking lots and parkades are even worse.

A guy can drive around for an eternity trying to find an empty space. In the process, you deal with people who won’t let you into traffic, block your path as they wait for a spot to open up in some special territory they’ve staked out – or worse – whip into the space you’re signalling to enter and then claiming they didn’t see you.

By the time you finally park, the stores are about to close and you’ve lost whatever Christmas spirit you might have had.

This afternoon, I headed out to start my Christmas shopping, fully prepared to spend about half the time I’d allotted to making circuits of the parking lot.

My first stop was a parkade, one already so jammed the machine wouldn’t let you take a ticket until the traffic arm at the pay booth raised to let somebody else exit.

When I got in, I joined the long line of cars making the trek to the roof, not finding any spaces along the way, slowing to trail anybody carrying packages and generally eating up the day.

Turned out the roof was full. So we all played follow-the-leader back down, hoping to find an open space before the guys coming the other way.

And then I saw him.

He was an older man, obviously confused, clicking his key flob around the top floor. He was trying to find his car.

I rolled down my window and confirmed he couldn’t remember exactly where he’d parked.

“Get in!” I said, “We’ll find it together.”

He seemed relieved, happy for the help. I admitted that my motives were not pure. When we found his car, I got the spot.

Five minutes later we found it. And two minutes after that I was in the elevator while everybody else kept circling.

By the time I hit the mall, I’d perfected my technique. I just drove up to the entrance and waited for somebody loaded down with shopping.

“Hey!” I called. “Need a ride to your car?”. The guy I’d targeted appeared caught off guard by the offer. But the woman behind him was no slouch.

“Are you serious?”. I assured her I was. Five minutes later, she was on her way and I was parked and heading for the store.

Now, I realize this could quickly become a viable MO for rapists and muggers, but I’m counting on the spirit of the season to trump all that.

Both the people I helped (and who helped me) remarked that a stranger lending a hand made them feel like Christmas was just around the corner.

I could say the same thing. Now if I could just find somebody dying to string lights…

The Test

2011-12-02T23:23:00.001-05:00

It was a busy day in Heaven with a long line waiting outside the pearly gates.

Toward the back, a man waited nervously, watching St. Peter as he spoke privately with each new arrival, gesturing some through the gates and some the other way.

The man wondered what he’d be asked, certain he’d lived a good life, but now in this final moment worried that he’d done something that might bar him from paradise for eternity.

No. His life had not just been good. It had been exemplary.

He’d never said a bad word about anyone. He’d obeyed all the rules. Whenever he’d come across trouble or strife he’d turned the other cheek, walked away, kept his own council and never once caused anyone a problem.

And he sensed St. Peter already knew all that when it was his turn at the front of the line. The elderly gatekeeper regarded him with warmth and a tangible feeling of love, saying nothing.

The man returned the saint’s smile. “I’m not sure what to say.” he said, “I’m pretty sure I did everything the good book says I should. I followed all the rules.”

“Well, there are a lot of good books.” St. Peter said, “And a lot of rules made by a lot of people with good intentions. Up here, there’s just one question. One test.”

“What’s that?” asked the man.

“Let me see your scars.”

The man was suddenly filled with excitement, certain he’d soon be in paradise. “I don’t have any scars!” he said, “Not a single one.”

St. Peter’s eyes darkened, now full of sadness, as he stared at the man with immense disappointment.

“Really? Could you not find one thing worth fighting for?”.

They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?

2011-12-01T23:50:00.001-05:00

Given all that’s going on in the world, you can be forgiven for missing things.

Given how many causes are crying out for your attention, you should feel no guilt over the ones that skipped past without your noticing.

But sadly, much of what fills us with anger, sadness or regret, goes on because those we elect or otherwise charge with addressing them, don’t do the job we thought they were doing.

Millions lose their homes, their jobs and their life savings because those overseeing the integrity of the financial markets didn’t.

Aboriginal Canadians suffer third world living conditions because generations of politicians have opted for expediency over simple decency.

And so it goes, through all aspects of human endeavor, when “doing the right thing” is set aside for not doing anything or hoping nobody notices the wrong that was done instead.

One week ago, US President Obama pardoned a couple of turkeys in a traditional Thanksgiving show of compassion before the annual national decimation of the species.

It’s a cute ceremony, enjoyed by all, that reminds us that we may be carnivores, but we’ve still got some compassion for our fellow creatures.

What slipped under the radar is that just prior to the quaint White House ceremony, the President signed a bill lifting a six year ban on the slaughter of horses, a ban he himself had pledged to make permanent.

Why? Probably for the same reason the practice goes on in Canada. Farmers and ranchers are strapped, caught in the economic squeeze and have no choice but to sell once valuable thoroughbreds,rodeo stock or pets to the slaughterhouse.

The alternative is even less palatable. Every year, thousands of horses are released into the wild where they starve or are torn apart by predators.

Both Canada and the US are nations with a long history of dependence on the horse. The animals have just as long been symbols of our heritage, our sense of compassion and even our love of freedom.

Most are now brought into the world to entertain us. They race. They rodeo. They’re ridden for recreation. And they deserve a better fate.

There are charities that rehabilitate thoroughbreds at the end of their racing careers, such as The Exceller Fund, named for a stallion who beat two triple crown winners during his storied career – and then was butchered when he couldn’t run anymore.

There are also dozens of charities working tirelessly to find homes for horses whose owners can no longer care for them.

But, as in so many other parts of our society, more could be done.

But it seems that if it’s something that can slide under the radar or make somebody in charge a larger dollar, doing the right thing, the decent thing, gets ignored.

Leading the fight to have the President repeal the recent pro-slaughter bill and replace it with the one banning the practice are a couple of young ladies known as “The Barbi Twins”.

Shane and Sia Barbi made their names as Playboy centerfolds. But in real life, they’re horse trainers who have long advocated for both the rights of animals and an end to turning horses into commercial meat.

They’ve already released an award winning documentary entitled “Saving America’s Horses” and are behind a petition demanding the new law be repealed.

Given that 70% of the American public is opposed to the slaughter of horses and it’s an election year, I’d say doing the right thing might stand a chance this time.

But as in everything else, the guys in charge only move when they’re pushed.

Please take a moment to advocate for creatures who can’t speak for themselves. Nobody will thank you. But then, that’s not what it’s supposed to be about – is it?

The Elephant In The Room

2011-11-29T14:53:00.001-05:00

We just lost a great one far too soon…

Lazy Sunday # 197: Over Time

2011-11-27T03:03:00.001-05:00

There's a lot being made this week about the Muppets being back onscreen after a twelve year absence -- "...and they haven't aged one bit!".

What's not much mentioned is that their creator, Jim Henson, died in the Spring of 1990 and his puppeteer partner Frank Oz, the genius behind Miss Piggy and Fozzie Bear, refused to have anything to do with the new film because he didn't like the way the Muppet characters were portrayed.

I don't know what that says about the film one way or another. And it's far from the first time that characters have outlived their creators or been rebooted for a new generation or a new round of sequels.

But there's something about the relationship between puppets and a puppeteer that's -- different.

If you've ever watched puppeteers rehearsing, there's a great deal of intimate interplay between the artist and the inanimate object being brought to life. It's almost like watching people with their kids.

There are tales aplenty about ventriloquists who treat their dummies like real people. And who among us has not interacted with a puppet as if it were a completely separate entity from the guy with his hand up its butt?

Somewhere, there's an element in our humanity that simply accepts that our teddy bears, dolls and other beloved toys have some kind of life of their own.

Which means that "they" must be aware that the person who brought them to life is no longer around.

Here's a beautiful French film that uses that premise. It's one of the most moving shorts I've found in a while.

Enjoy your Sunday.

Overtime from ouryatlan on Vimeo.

Drawing On Your Creativity

2011-11-26T11:19:00.001-05:00

It’s raining where I am today. In fact it’s raining really hard.

So hard the dog took one look at all the wet, turned around on the porch and backed up just enough to tinkle without getting more than her butt soaked.

Then she shuffled back inside, content to sit out the rest of the day – but not be happy about it.

When I was a kid and pissed off because it was raining too hard to go outside, my mom would plop my ass down at the kitchen table with a big newsprint drawing pad and instructions to “amuse” myself.

So I did. And, in the process, discovered how much I could amuse both myself and others.

Sometimes I think that’s all creativity really is, finding a way to make yourself and others happy in the face of realities attempting to prevent you from doing that.

Can’t get a network to listen to your pitch? Can’t find financing? Can’t get anyone to help you realize your vision?

There’s always a way. Perhaps one that doesn’t depend on attracting star talent, having money or even much skill.

You just have to be a little more creative.

Creative in the face of rejection by all the powers that be.

Creativity that will get you through, no matter how long the rejection and the rain go on. Because sometimes, the longer you’re rejected and the longer it rains, the more creative you become.

Being On the Right Side Of History

2011-11-25T20:27:00.001-05:00

2011 has been rough on a lot of people. Some more than others…

Be thankful for what you have.

Got Anything Planned For Tonight?

2011-11-23T13:40:00.001-05:00

Say around 10:00 pm Eastern or 7:00 Pacific – 02:00 for those on Greenwich Mean Time…

Uh, lemme see. Wednesday. Let’s check the book…

Cops knocked down the Occupy tent, so I don’t have to do that anymore…

There’s the News or “Coronation Street” on the CBC – neither of which will have much Canadian content…

Everybody else has celebrity gossip or reality shows. Again, not much that’s recognizably Canadian…

Whoa, are there ever a lot of reality shows on Wednesdays…

No hockey games…

Okay, might I suggest you flip open the laptop, surf here and listen to the LIVE “Dyscultured” podcast.

60 minutes of 100% Canadian cultural news and opinion delivered as entertainingly as possible.

I’ve posted my affection for “Dyscultured” before and I continue to be a die-hard fan.

Name me one other forum for cultural discussion that broadcasts live while offering listeners the opportunity to join in the discussion via a chatroom every step of the way.

What’s more, you can go on Twitter, hashtag tonight’s episode #dys161 and get a sense of what they’ll be discussing. You can also toss in your own suggestions. Chances are good it will get picked up.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – “Dyscultured” is essential for anyone in Canadian show business trying to find their way through all the tech, politics and fragmented media landscapes we deal with daily.

These guys may be as lost as we are. In fact, you can count on it. But they’re having fun and firing off flares that help to light the way.

Here’s a taste of last week’s podcast…

If you can’t enjoy “Dyscultured” live, archived episodes are available for free at the show website and iTunes.

And The Change From A Dollar On 95 Cents Is...?

2011-11-22T14:21:00.001-05:00

It's fashionable, especially in Canada, to voice your disdain for “Nickleback”.

Much of this comes from the knowledge that we have given the world far more worthy musical icons like Celine Dion, Justin Beiber and Raffi.

And although as we would like everyone beyond our borders to think we only listen to “The Tragically Hip”, “Arcade Fire” or Leonard Cohen and all own an original vinyl of “After The Gold Rush” protectively wrapped in a room temperature beaver pelt -- we know that's not true, don't we?

Pour a few fingers of Crown Royal down any Canadian and you'll discover that we all know the lyrics to "Burn It To The Ground" -- and can sing them even louder after each subsequent shot.

Not long ago, the venerable British publication, The New Music Express, (who once predicted “Darkness” would surpass the popularity of “The Beatles”) voted “Nickleback” the worst band in the world.

Yet another reason we need to rethink the Monarchy thing if you ask me…

Hard on the heels of this, an online petition in Detroit demanded that the Detroit Lions football team rescind their invitation to the band to perform at halftime of their Thanksgiving Day game, the complainants insisting that the booking was a slap in the face to Detroit's musical legacy.

I'm sure the Lions were shaken by this. After all, it was an online petition.

But I'm also sure they had already checked to see if the surviving members of "The Temptations" could get out of their retirement home for the day and that there was a construction crane available to haul Aretha Franklin to the 50 yard line.

If there's a couple of things I've learned about the music business and the media over the years it's that the critics and the Rock intelligentsia mostly love bands who will never make it and the mainstream media only loves those who are mostly over the hill.

How else do you explain year end Top Ten lists including nine bands you'll never hear from again and shows like CBC's "Cover Me"?

This week, “Nickleback” took time out from the tour schedule that earned them over $100 Million last year alone as well as promoting their already multi-platinum just-released album to respond to Detroit with a cute video over at "Funny or Die".

Of much more importance, they'll be back home in Vancouver on Sunday to perform the halftime duties at "The Grey Cup Game" -- where fully 1/4 of the country will be tuned in and, dare I admit it, singing along.

Here's a snippet if you need to practice.

Lazy Sunday #196: The Lame Street Media

2011-11-20T15:48:00.001-05:00

Often, while watching television, I get the feeling broadcasters think I'm stupid. A guy without any critical faculties, connection to the real world or ability at rational thought. And that's not just when they program a Sunday long "According to Jim" marathon.

Mostly it happens when I'm watching the news.

And maybe broadcasters don't think I'm any of those things. Maybe I'm just overly sensitive or overly suspicious -- or both.

In a lot of ways I can't help that. In my first career as an actor, I was taught that the skills to hone involved observation and interpretation. Watch and listen. Notice the way someone walks or their emphasis in a turn of phrase and work backward to what created that gait or motivated the choice of those particular words.

That process is enhanced in writing as well as producing. A television writer, in particular, needs to know the ways of quickly establishing character, making a point and efficiently moving the story. A producer eliminates the unnecessary and focuses the essential to better serve his budget, schedule and most of all the target audience.

So forgive me for coming to the conclusion that a lot of what I see on TV News these days makes me wonder if anybody is giving me the facts instead of what they want me to believe is true.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Living in the rose colored world of showbiz has kept me incredibly naive. But I can't help that either.

Last Friday on his SUN-TV program "The Source", host Ezra Levant broadcast a segment in which he snuck onto the "Occupy Toronto" site at 4:00 a.m. with infrared cameras, revealing that "99% of the tents were unoccupied". To further make his point, Levant managed to inspect a couple of those tents before being set upon by either Occupy security or thugs depending on your point of view.

Finding the story full of that "All The President's Men" Chutzpah that Hollywood has taught me to imbue in journalists, I shared it with a few friends. One in England got back to me with the news that Ezra's "exposé" was not original and perhaps not even accurate.

He supplied me with a link to a British newspaper, wherein I learned that several UK tabloids had conducted an identical experiment in September with the same results. Only those results were now being dismissed by experts in infrared imaging who stated that insulated tents or sleeping bags would erase the heat signature of an occupant, making you believe the tent was empty when it was not.

Now keep in mind that the newspapers who conducted the experiment tend to advocate for the Right and those who dismissed it lean in the other direction.

Still unaware of who was giving me the unvarnished truth, I decided to go directly to "The Source", asking Levant if he'd been aware of the British study going in and wondering if this was one of those "poke the bear" moments he gets up to every now and then. Levant's response was quick, courteous and -- evasive.

To wit, "Hey Jim. Did the UK newspaper also refute what I saw when I opened up the tents and looked inside?"

Well. Er. No. But the SUN-TV story seems to indicate that Levant only inspected a couple of tents before he was accosted. Enough to determine that 99% were empty?

I'm still not certain if I'm getting the real story or I'm being played. But that's not all Ezra Levant's fault. I was feeling quite uncomfortable with news coverage in this country long before Friday night.

The photograph at the top of this post appeared last week on the CBC News website and later the same day on that of the Toronto Globe and Mail. It depicts a demonstration by farmers unhappy with the Canadian Government decision to eliminate a law requiring all sales of Canadian wheat to go through the Canadian Wheat Board.

Unlike other marketing groups like those that control the sale of poultry or milk, the CWB is not run by the farmers who produce the marketed commodity. It's an arm of the government.

Last summer, an uncle in Saskatchewan in his 80s who still farms told me how he's allowed to sell canola, soybeans, lentils, almost anything he grows to anybody he wants. But if his wheat doesn't go through the wheat board he can be sent to jail. He recalled a tough winter when ranchers across the border in Montana were begging for grain to save their cattle. Any farmers who tried to help had their trucks seized and were fined tens of thousands of dollars. Some even went to prison.

That's what the government is trying to address. But over at the CBC News Network you see endless debates in which we hear that the vast majority of farmers are outraged and the Feds are once again trying to destroy "Canada as we know it!".

Okay. Maybe they are. But here's a photograph of that same demonstration that didn't get distributed by either the CBC or the Globe and Mail.

Does that look like a "vast majority" of any kind to you?

Does it make you wonder why the CBC and their constant defenders at the G&M chose not to let you see the entire picture?

But not supplying the entire picture or the whole story seems to be the realm in which CBC News operates these days.

A couple of weeks ago, I awoke to learn from CBC that this was the day the Harper Government would choose which two of our three major shipyards would be granted huge government shipbuilding contracts. It was a decision the network predicted would set off a "political firestorm" as diverse regions of the country were pitted against one another.

All day long, pundits insisted Harper had better not exclude his political base in the West, must not ignore the economic woes of the East coast and could not slap Quebec down for mostly voting for opposition parties. He was in a no-win situation that could spell the beginning of the end for his government.

In the end, two yards were chosen and there was no firestorm. Not even a brushfire.

But not until after the decision did CBC report that the shipyard left out was-- uh -- er -- in bankruptcy protection and had acknowledged it might not have been able to fulfill the contract if they'd gotten it.

Kind of an important point to ignore, don't cha think?

Unless you're maybe looking for ways to slag the guys who might be about to reduce your budget.

But CBC News has too much class to do something like that, don't they?

I mean, they keep running a commercial where one of their hosts states every politician they've encountered calls them "Tough but Fair". Y'know like Fox News assures you, with complete sincerity, that they are "Fair and Balanced".

Can I be forgiven for thinking that news organizations only want me seeing the part of the story that fits their own world view? And since the Web provides any number of places will give me a different angle on any story, does that mean I am the one being naive -- or is it they?

Thursday the host of CBC News Network's "Connect", Mark Kelley, did his show from New York to cover the "Shut Down Wall Street" demonstration by the Occupy Movement. For weeks, Kelley and others had been wondering if this was North America's version of "The Arab Spring". And since I'd watched him broadcast live from Tahrir Square in Cairo, I figured who better to compare the two.

As we know, the demonstration didn't halt a single financial transaction, unless you were maybe a stranded commuter trying to find an ATM.

But Kelley's show concentrated not on its failure but its icons, like a Marine famous for chastising cops in a viral video and an 84 year old activist who'd been pepper sprayed, as it reiterated how influential the movement had become.

There was, however, no mention of its dark side or what that part of the movement might mean.

No interviews with the dozens of women who'd been sexually assaulted in the encampments.

Nothing about the murders or deaths from drug overdoses among occupiers.

No mention of the participant in LA arrested for masturbating in front of a group of children.

Nary a word on the participants in Oakland who had pelted street vendors in Oakland with urine for not giving them free food.

No discussion at all about the moment of solidarity held in Washington for the Occupy participant arrested attempting to assassinate Barack Obama.

Nope. In the world of CBC News, "Occupy Wall Street" was intelligent people power, where if the downtrodden and broken 99% could be given voice, they would almost certainly agree with blowing away the President of the United States.

Thursday night, "The Daily Show" gave us a glimpse of the Occupy Movement that struck me as being somewhat more honest. (Click for full screen to work around any visible format error in your browser).

Have we really reached a point where we can only find unbiased insight into the news from a comedy show?

Maybe it's time to turn off all of these guys until they promise to give us the whole story.

As for me, I'm sticking to sportscasts for a while, where you know it's all bullshit and stuff that doesn't really matter anyway. But at least it's entertaining.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

Lazy Sunday # 195: The Future of Television

2011-11-13T04:06:00.001-05:00

There's an old screenwriter's trick, when you're bereft of ideas, to open a newspaper and link 2 or 3 random articles to devise a story premise.

I'm told some hedge fund managers similarly link a handful of current events to concoct the argument that their clients should buy or sell a certain stock.

This week a few unrelated events caught my own attention which, when combined, might just reveal the future of television.

The first actually began about three months ago, when a crew of university students rented the house across the street.

Like a lot of students, they're either too broke or too disinterested to buy curtains. Unfortunately for me, there are no side benefits in that since they're all guys. On the other hand, being guys, the first piece of furniture they moved in was a massive HD television they hung on the wall facing the front window.

So every night when I walk the dog, it's not hard to notice what they're watching. But what I've come to realize is -- I've never seen them watching a TV show.

The set gets used for a lot of video games, facebook updates and twitter messages. One night I thought they were watching a movie, when the screen suddenly went black and returned them to the familiar "Recently Added" Netflix screen, where they clicked another selection.

Now, I'm not sure how pervasive their habits might be, but it shed some light on a business article I read last week about how there are something like 3 HD television sets in Canada for every HD cable box that can actually supply them with the proper signal.

This was spun as a huge revenue opportunity for cable providers as they sold boxes to all those people who hadn't realized they needed one to fully enjoy their new flat screen.

Except…

I think what's happening out in the real world is exactly the opposite.

First, I'd wager that more and more people are mostly using their smart TVs to watch DVDs, play games and stream online content.

What's more, about 3 years ago, I bought a HD antenna that allowed me to get several local channels in better quality than my cable provider without having to pay a monthly fee for the privilege. At the time, the dealer told me about 1000 people a month in Canada were making the same decision I had.

While that number may have leveled off, I would seriously doubt it's in decline.

I think the reality is that more and more of us have become our own content programmers, having had enough of the multi-channel universe of programming that just seems to repeat shows we've already seen from one specialty channel or tier to another.

Meanwhile, on Tuesday, news came out that the once mighty and unchallenged "Number One" American television network, NBC, the home of "Appointment TV", has lost 18% of its audience this year and is regularly eclipsed by the Spanish language Univision network.

Like the cable box article, this news was spun as "an opportunity" since a single hit might -- I repeat "might" -- get their numbers up. At least for one night of the week.

But what if the night that potential new hit was to debut was Tuesday, when last Tuesday 6.5 Million Americans and Canadians stood in line to purchase the new version of "Call of Duty"?

Don't you think there's a good chance that Tuesday night there were upwards of 6.5 Million North Americans not in the least interesting in watching whatever NBC or anybody else put on TV because they were trying out their new game?

"Call of Duty" earned $400 Million worldwide on Tuesday. And between now and Christmas there are a half dozen similarly popular gaming titles issuing new versions and anticipating equally rabid fans -- and rich paydays.

Maybe Gamers don't watch that much regular television to begin with. But you get the feeling their ranks are growing much faster than those who are just happy to plop down on the couch and let whatever is being served wash over them.

Final observation…

Wednesday night, I was watching a hockey game while surfing my Twitter feed and on the latter heard about the riot at Penn State University. I jumped over to CNN, only to find Piers Morgan interviewing somebody nearing the end of their personal 15 minutes of fame.

I dropped down a channel to Headline News to see if they had coverage, finding Dr. Drew kibitzing with somebody just beginning their celebrity 15. Over to CBC who were running a documentary repeat. Way down the dial to SUN TV where somebody in a bad suit was really annoyed about -- something.

Thirty seconds later, I found the live coverage I wanted -- on my laptop.

In this era of 24 hour news cycles, the guys who seem least aware of that fact are those broadcasting the news.

They remain locked into the decades old model of news at noon, six and eleven -- or ten at CBC -- or nine if you want to see the exact same version of "The National" on the CBC News Network.

I came to the conclusion that all of this is happening because, while you and I are embracing all the new technologies on offer, our television networks and cable companies are locked into business models that support their own internal needs but fail to service the audience.

This week, the usual suspects will troop up to Gatineau for CRTC hearings on OTT (Over the Top) services. Nothing will likely evolve from these meetings beyond arguments for regulation to shore up or sustain the collapsing business models that we have. There will then be another round of hearings in May.

And in the meantime, more and more people will either discover the new entertainment options they have or discover how easy it is to devise workarounds to watch what they desire.

More of us will become our own program directors and program schedulers. And we'll have less and less interest in a system that says you need four separate sports channels to watch your home team, or you need your news filtered and interpreted before its presented for your consumption.

More of us will find that "Call of Duty" is more engaging than "Republic of Doyle" or yet another singing competition.

In short, more of us will realize we can make our own choices.

And those people won't be interested in handing that freedom back to somebody else.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

The Evil That Walks By Night

2011-11-09T02:10:00.001-05:00

I did a few hours of Community Service last week. Not the court imposed kind. My life's not that exciting. This was the type where somebody phones you up and you kinda feel obligated to assist.

In the middle of carving the pumpkin on Halloween I got a call from my local church. They have one of the oldest graveyards in the country and last Halloween somebody pretty seriously vandalized it.

This year they called the cops in advance to see if somebody could keep an eye on the place and were told that the night was one of the local constabulary's busiest, so we were on our own. The only option was finding a few brave souls who wouldn't mind spending the night among the tombstones.

Now that's the sort of invitation you can't turn down.

So, as Midnight drew close, I packed the sheepdog in the car and headed over. Along the way, I passed the elementary school. They had cars backed against all the entrances and a foursome with flashlights patrolling the perimeter. Apparently, the police didn't have the staff to look after them either.

I later learned that the year previous, schools and churches in my small corner of the world had sustained tens of thousands of dollars of damage on Halloween. I don't know why those two institutional groups were singled out. For that matter, I don't see what's achieved by tagging the walls of a gym or busting up 200 year old headstones under any circumstances.

But then I also don't understand how people who set out to challenge crooked financial practices end up throwing bottles of urine at street vendors or maintenance workers and still think they're somehow "stickin' it to the man".

The church's Priest and the guy I call the Pre-Priest (he doesn't get ordained for a couple of weeks) were on duty when I arrived. They'd already put in a long night, after putting in a long day doing all the things Priests do. Which in this day and age, when most of those with a degree in theology also hold one in psychology or sociology, is a lot.

The deal was, we'd mostly hang in the church and about every 20 minutes, a couple of us would make a sweep of the graveyard. What we'd do if we actually found anybody up to something, we didn't discuss. Hopefully, anybody casing the place would see the flashlight beams and go elsewhere. And more hopefully, if they didn't, the sight of a dumpy guy holding back a sleepy sheepdog would surely be enough to make them scamper.

The graveyard was suitably spooky in the pitch darkness. Now and then, our flashlight beams would catch a rabbit or a deer foraging between the graves. But after the first few, even they didn't make the dog anxious to make another circuit. She was quite happy to curl up between the pews and snooze.

It looked like we were in for an uneventful evening. We checked our watches. The bars were long closed. We hadn't heard a car go by in at least an hour. Maybe we could call an end to the vigil.

Then the dog suddenly lifted from her spot between the pews, her head cocked. I listened too. Nothing. Then…

The chained rear doors of the church shook, yanked hard from the outside.

We weren't alone.

We grabbed our flashlights and bolted for the nearest door, running around to the back of the building. By the time we got there, who or whatever had shaken the doors was gone. The night was perfectly quiet. The dog sat down and yawned. The Pre-Priest and I shared a look. Maybe we'd imagined it.

Then I played my light across the steps of the rear door. The imprints of a pair of heavy work boots were clearly visible in the dew.

The next day, I wondered who our visitor might have been. What would he have done if the doors hadn't been chained or we weren't there? What kind of a person takes satisfaction in pointless and wanton destruction?

I was interrupted by a call from another friend asking if I could help out with the annual Legion Poppy drive. The Canadian Legion, not the faux outfit I run around here.

Like most Canadian Legion Posts, the vets are getting on and standing around a shopping mall for an afternoon isn't as easy as it once was. So I said, "Sure", put on a suit and headed out.

99% of the people you meet when you're holding a tray of Poppies and a donation box greet you with a smile. They know what that little paper flower symbolizes and that the money goes for a good cause. They even exude a certain pride when they pin it on. It's one of those things that says, "I'm thoughtful. I care. I appreciate the sacrifice".

But after about an hour of smiles, this guy strode up looking a little belligerent. "I'm not buying a Poppy! You know why?" I shook my head. "Because I don't believe in war!"

"Neither do we," I said.

Big mistake.

He glared at me. "Bullshit! You're selling those for the military."

I glanced down at the floor, wondering what was the best way to handle this and noticed...

He was wearing big, heavy work boots.

I looked back at him. The possibility that this was the same guy was beyond remote. But what if it was…?

"First of all, we're not selling anything," I said. "People donate what they want. Hell, we even give them away free if somebody asks."

I held out a Poppy. He slapped my hand away.

I met his eyes. "All the money goes to veterans and their families. Every penny."

The muscles around his jaw tightened. By now I'd decided this was the kind of asshole who trashes church yards. And I almost hoped he'd try something. Even though there was no trusty sheepdog nearby with its dopey tongue hanging out or an almost Priest to provide me with absolution if I went into "Defender of the Faith" mode.

A guy bigger than both of us interrupted. "Why don't you piss off!" he said to the guy with the boots as he dropped some change in my box and fished a poppy from the tray. Boot boy looked up at him and slunk away. The big guy smiled and I realized he was wearing a uniform.

He pinned the poppy next to one he already had on his chest. "Good to have a spare." And he was gone.

There was a point back in the 1930's when Adolf Hitler's Nazi Party and Mussolini's Fascists were indistinguishable from street thugs. Saddam Hussein, Gadaffi, the serial rapists of The Lord's Army, the Sudanese Pirates and any number of tribal warlords were and are, when you come right down to it, no different from petty criminals.

There is an evil that walks by night, stalking a nurse just off the night shift, stomping a gay guy, snapping the crucifix from a headstone.

Unchecked and unchallenged, it becomes bolder, enjoying the ability to strike fear or cause pain or create suffering. Sometimes it finds like-minded companions and begins to feel safe in the daylight and to contemplate even larger evils.

When that happens, there have always been those willing to force the evil back into the night. Some of those brave men and women don't come home, leaving families in need of help. Some return from the battles with scars it takes time to heal.

That's where the money raised by Poppies goes. And wearing one designates you as one who understands that sometimes sacrifice is required and you respect those who chose to pay the price.

But it also marks you as one who knows that there is evil in the world and that you stand against it.

Greenlight “Cover Me Finland” Immediately!

2011-11-07T12:26:00.001-05:00

Somehow I missed the first 6 or 7 episodes of “Cover Me Canada”, the CBC’s latest effort to discover talent it doesn’t actually employ anywhere on its network.

But last night, I gave them a shot.

Can somebody tell me why CBC gets a Billion+ ever year and can’t come up with something even fractionally as entertaining as what follows…

Yeah, that’s how you do a cover song! Finland’s “Porkka Playboys”. Somebody give them a show!

Lazy Sunday # 194: Happy Trails

2011-11-06T11:50:00.001-05:00

Fifteen or twenty years ago, for reasons I can’t recall, I found myself in Victorville, California, home of the Roy Rogers Museum. I had a couple of hours to kill so I decided to look around.

Roy had been a huge Western star for a couple of decades before I discovered him in my childhood. By then he was well known as “The King of the Cowboys” with a weekly TV show starring himself, his wife, his horse and his dog.

Though not an actual monarch, Rogers was as wealthy as one, listed among Hollywood’s box office leaders from 1943 – 1952.

But Roy’s empire wasn’t restricted to the movies.

Born into poverty in a Cincinnati tenement, he’d had to seek factory work as a child to support his family. He never finished high school, quitting after he was chastised for falling asleep in class – after a night shift making shoes.

His family travelled West during the depression, with Roy learning to play the guitar and sing in the transient and worker camps later made famous in John Steinbeck’s “The Grapes of Wrath”.

He broke into show business in the 1930’s as a country singer, forming a group called “The Sons of the Pioneers” and meeting his wife Dale Evans (later “The Queen of the West”) at an Oklahoma radio station where she gave him with a lemon pie to coerce him into playing a song she’d requested.

The Sons had several hits that eventually landed them spots in a few Westerns, including a Gene Autry movie that the star exited on the first day in a contract dispute. Stuck for a star, the producers noticed the handsome young man with the guitar, handed him a white Stetson and the rest – as they say – is history.

But Rogers not only copied Autry’s singing cowboy character, he improved on it. In a 1940 contract negotiation he gave back some of the money the studio was offering to acquire the rights to his likeness, voice and name.

Within a couple of years, he’d parlayed that into his own production company, radio serials, comic books, adventure novels, public appearances, records, action figures, western clothing and toy six guns of all description.

Only Walt Disney had more merchandise bearing his name.

Already a cottage industry, one that soon expanded to include Dale, trusty mount Trigger and dog bullet, Rogers took over creative control of his films, shooting them in color when everybody else was still making their low budget oaters in B&W.

The West of Roy Rogers films had nothing to do with the Real West and he knew that. But he understood that most people dealt with enough reality in their own lives and wanted something else when they bought a ticket to one of his films.

I thought the museum was kind of tacky. It was weird looking at the taxidermied Trigger, Dale’s horse “Buttermilk” and Bullet posed around the corral set from Roy’s Ranch I’d remembered from childhood.

The racks of rhinestone and silver saddles, handmade Technicolor boots and shirts all seemed phoney and dated.

And after watching film clips of shows I’d loved that now came across as awkwardly concocted and badly produced, I wondered why so many people had bought into the Roy Rogers myth.

I got my answer yesterday as the media marked the 100th anniversary of Roy Rogers’ birth.

In an interview with Rogers’ son, who still makes a good living touring with his own son performing a show featuring the music and stories of his father, there was this insight…

"He came at a time when World War II was coming on pretty heavy and a lot of people, their dad didn't come back or they came from broken homes, so Dad, was a father figure to a lot of kids."

"And so they looked up to him and they knew they could hang their hat on what he would ask them to do. To go to church on Sundays and to keep yourself neat and clean and take care of your animals and obey your mom and dad, and just basic, common sense things."

The museum in Victorville closed a few years ago and its artefacts were sold for millions. Trigger alone went for more than six figures.

Roy Rogers may have been a cowboy caricature and a walking merchandising campaign, but he spent much of the fortune he earned realizing the values he espoused, advocating for adopted children, kids with polio and research into Downs Syndrome.

He also did much for environmental causes, animal rights and ensuring that the history of the west, the “Real” West was preserved.

He closed every episode of his TV series singing one of his biggest hits, “Happy Trails”. You always felt he really meant the sentiment and maybe that’s the part of the man we should most remember.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

Get Over It!

2011-11-03T23:45:00.001-04:00

"You wave it like a flag, you wear it like a crown
Got your mind in the gutter, bringin' everybody down
Complain about the present and blame it on the past
I'd like to find your inner child and kick its little ass."

-- Glenn Frey/Don Henley

Sometimes I feel like I've become the local Internet Go-To Guy for an opposing opinion.

At least five times in the last week, I've had people asking me to blog about Rob Ford and the CBC, the Occupy Movement and other issues the Left and Right like to take sides on in order to pontificate on what morons the other bunch are.

And I'll admit I have opinions on all those issues. But since everybody and their dog is already filling up Column inches, Op-Ed pages and as much blog, podcast and TV panel space as they can on those topics, I ultimately came to the conclusion that nothing I add will be all that and a bag of chips.

Yes, I'm capable of throwing a pretty good fit from time to time on topics where I figure I have some inside perspective. But that's off the top of my head stuff. I really don't have the time or inclination for subject matter that doesn't concern me personally.

Tackling such issues also makes me think too much and being a Libra that ultimately means I'm gonna see the other side of the argument as well and end up either confused or catatonic or both. And we don't want that. At least, I don't.

But that still doesn't stop people, even weeks after some "outrage", from needling me on Twitter with "new information" or some "inside scuttlebutt" even the Press doesn't know. As if most in that profession actually look for much more than how to wind somebody up enough to tuck some change into the "Pay Here" slot.

My particular favorite is when somebody refers to some politician who has miffed them and asks "So what do you have to say about 'Your Guy' now? " as if I'm that idiot's mom or personally responsible for their current Gazebo building binge or whatever.

Other than making a mental note of who to call should I ever need a Gazebo, my honest response is, "All politicians are junkyard dogs! You can't even trust the ones you vote for!" I mean, we all live in hope -- but seriously…

For instance, while I know Jack Layton has now been beatified, there's still news footage of him screaming at police to arrest peaceful demonstrators outside an abortion clinic and threatening to have any cop who doesn't fired.

Put those same words in the mouth of somebody demanding an Occupy encampment be removed and those who admire Jack would be equally horrified.

Where did we move from a common sense of decency and maybe skepticism as well as acknowledging we don't own the moral high ground to needing to take up an immediate implacable stand?

"They point their crooked little fingers at everybody else
Spend all their time feelin' sorry for themselves
Victim of this, victim of that
Your momma's too thin; your daddy's too fat."

Do I think the CBC crossed the line with Rob Ford? Yeah. Do I think Ford over-reacted? Yeah.

Do I think the man is a Buffoon? Sometimes. Is he going anywhere else for the next three years? No.

But what's amazed me the most is how little so many people who work in my own film industry are aware of how video can be tweaked, sound bites clipped and additional perspectives omitted (by all sides) to skew the final impression. We do that every hour of every day in our own work but ignore the possibility that others might do the same for their own reasons.

So while the Left has used the incident to make Ford come across like more of a doofus than he already is, the Right has used it to successfully eviscerate the CBC.

I don't like to put anybody through the agony of tuning in to SUN-TV with its bad 1970's Game Show sets and caricature personalities. But they went to the trouble of simply removing the fake laugh track from the CBC broadcast, revealing the cause célèbre as little more than a blown joke that somebody whose creative skills outranked their ideology would have binned and replaced.

I'm just saying that anytime you can make Ezra Levant come across as the voice of reason, you have completely failed as artist or activist or both.

But it seems we've become a society where it's okay when our side does something wrong and a capitol offense when somebody else does it.

Even more than that, we seem to have become a people more intent on shouting down opposing views than considering they might actual have a kernel of merit.

A couple of days ago, I chatted with a good friend who has the unenviable task of getting Dwaine Lingenfelter elected Premier of Saskatchewan. He was wrestling with the fact that he couldn't get anybody from the local media to write about how Brad Wall's Saskatchewan Party was using subliminal images in their attack ads -- in direct contravention of the Elections Act.

He pointed me to a Youtube video where Lingenfelter's image had been photoshopped to make him look somewhat demonic and then surrounded by further Tarantino-esque imagery to brand him as a mud-slinger instead of the one on whom mud was figuratively being slung.

With Wall polling somewhere around 186% of the popular vote, it seemed such contravention of election rules raised no interest among media types. Was that because nobody wanted to alienate future government ad dollars or because it wouldn't alter the outcome of the election, or -- wasn't there enough controversy since Lingenfelter's people had been caught doing something similar not so long ago?

It's weird how we jump at the chance to make a Federal case out of the slightest things but appear to have no interest when an actual Federal case can be made.

"The more I think about it, Old Billy was right
Let's kill all the lawyers, kill 'em tonight
You don't want to work, you want to live like a king
But the big, bad world doesn't owe you a thing."

All this got me thinking about a couple of comedians I admire. Bill Maher, who continuously inflames the Right. And Dennis Miller, now firmly entrenched as a conservative radio host.

I still think Miller is the best "Weekend Update" anchor SNL ever had and I'm enthralled by the intelligent wordplay that permeates his material. But mention Miller to those leaning Left and he's almost universally dismissed as "no longer funny".

When I lived in LA, I made it to as many tapings of Bill Maher's "Politically Incorrect" as I could, enjoying his visceral outbursts. But now, not a week goes by that some aspect of his new series "Real Time" angers those on the Right to the point of demanding he be silenced.

Have we fallen so far that we not only can't laugh at our own sacred cows being skewered, but we can't even acknowledge that somebody with talent might not think exactly the way we do?

And why do we feel it imperative to insist they change their minds and think just like we do?

Aren't those the kind of people who go around knocking the dongs off statues or burn books or crucify those who make them feel uncomfortable?

Aren't those the kind of people that form in pods if we should fall asleep?

If a joke's funny, it's funny. If it's not, maybe you shouldn't try to wrap it up as something else in order to make your point. And if you don't like the joke -- maybe you should consider that it's just a joke.

"It's like going to confession every time I hear you speak
You're makin' the most of your losin' streak
Some call it sick, but I call it weak.

All this bitchin' and moanin' and pitchin' a fit
Get over it, get over it!"

There was a time, less than 10 years ago, when Maher and Miller could be on the same stage and enjoy each other even though they disagreed.

This clip was recorded a few months after Maher was unceremoniously turfed from ABC for remarks he made about the 9-11 attacks. Instead of celebrating his newfound status as only "politically incorrect" comic remaining on TV, Miller put his own career on the line by bringing Maher on as his guest.

Their discussion on the importance of free speech and making room for dissenting voices has as much power a decade later as it did at the time.

And here's that Eagles song some of may need to listen to a little more closely…

Happy Halloween

2011-10-31T19:26:00.001-04:00

When I was a kid, Halloween was just for us kids. A chance to dress up as somebody else, score some free candy and play a few tricks on people. Even if you went so far as to egg somebody's front door or tip over their outhouse, nobody got too upset.

But all that's changed. Everywhere I went today, there were people in costume and somebody else who thought their dressing up wasn't appropriate.

And I'm not talking about schools where the holiday has been dubbed "Black & Orange" day (whatever that means) or have requested that kids turn up dressed as a character who symbolizes compassion and caring.

That always reminds me of the Halloween I wrapped my school Vice-Principal's house in toilet paper while dressed as an Angel (complete with tinfoil halo). The concept that one night a year of childish debauchery might permanently warp a person's character or turn them down some dark pathway just doesn't make any sense to me.

Yet, I passed a zombie stocking shelves at the grocery store only to encounter a manager taking heat from an elderly couple who felt his outfit was too offensive for a place of business.

Over at Starbucks, the guys at the window bar were ogling a 20-something walking by dressed as a "sexy nurse". One of them later admitted that this actually made him quite uncomfortable since his 8 year old was trick or treating in the same get-up. That remark was met by troubled glances among his colleagues.

Like I said, some people take this stuff a lot more seriously than it warrants.

My day was made, however, by a burly guy outside the hardware store, dressed in the black and orange of the BC Lions football team and a dead ringer for their head coach.

"Hey, it's Wally Buono!" I chirped.

He smiled back. "Thank God somebody gets it," he said. "The last three people I met said I looked like a fucking pumpkin!"

As for me, I will join tonight's festivities dressed as I always dress, as the inimitable "Sexy Screenwriter".

And that's far from inappropriate -- even if only we screenwriters know it's not a fantasy.

Have a fun Halloween!

Lazy Sunday # 193: Best Episode Ever

2011-10-30T03:42:00.001-04:00

Somewhere around 2004, the Internet spawned a new form of media known as the podcast.

It's unofficially defined as a digital audio or video file that is episodic; downloadable; program-driven, and has a host or theme or both.

For almost as long as most people have been using the Internet, there have been streamed webcasts, radio or TV broadcasts and digital files you could download. But this was something different, the evolution of a community, one that didn't yet know it was a community, in fact was mostly individuals in cubicles or basement offices, converging audio, the web and portable media players so the world might listen to what they had to say for a change.

In Communication terms, podcasting is what's known as a disruptive technology, meaning that it circumvents or end runs the established media outlets to distribute content to an audience it assumes has enough similar interest to find and value it. In a way, it's a medium where the producers are the consumers who are also the distributors and contributors to the conversation.

Basically, podcasts are conversations held without chaperones or gatekeepers, shared to spread the conversation.

In 2005, iTunes began offering podcasts as part of its download services. There are now more than 150,000 separate titles available, some numbering hundreds of episodes updated monthly, weekly, or daily. Add the number of podcasts hosted by other sites and their pervasiveness increases exponentially.

To a great extent, the people podcasting have never been part of a recognized media outlet. And yet their ability to inform, entertain and offer intelligent opinion often surpasses those who are well paid to do the same by the mainstream media.

All those who say they'd be lost without CBC Radio, NPR, Fox News or Pajamas Media just haven't looked very hard at what's available to them for free in the form of podcasts.

In the same way that the audience has fragmented, the business of providing us with our cultural touchstones has forever fractured as well.

And if you ask me, that's a good thing.

Those of us who work in Canadian Television are doubtless aware of Anthony Marco, co-host of Diane Wild's essential and perhaps definitive weekly round-up of Canadian TV news, "TV-Eh?". Anthony does several other podcasts, all accessible from his eponymous website.

Among them is "Best Episode Ever" a look back at television series which had a popular impact on the culture that is now in its third season.

I got to help Anthony kick off that third season by joining him to talk about "Route 66", one of the series that sub-or-unconsciously got my creative juices flowing before I'd even reached puberty. You can find that podcast here as well as episode two which features MacLean's Entertainment blogger Jaimie Weinman.

Our industry has always been driven by the arrival of new voices and new ideas. And in a media world that seems to be endlessly polarizing into Fox vs MSNBC and CBC vs SUNTv in a perpetual "He Said, She Said", perspectives that inhabit other points of the compass can be more than a little refreshing.

In the same way that I hope what I had to say about "Route 66" informs the way you look at television, I hope you'll search for what some of the voices of podcasters have to offer.

Like the incredibly infectious theme of "Route 66" it might help you -- Enjoy Your Sunday.

The episode of "Route 66" that Anthony and I discussed is also available on Youtube in its entirety. You can find it here.

Is It Safe?

2011-10-29T00:25:00.001-04:00

Szell: Is it safe?

Babe: Yes, it's safe, it's very safe, it's so safe you wouldn't believe it.

Szell: Is it safe?

Babe: No. It's not safe, it's... very dangerous, be careful.

There’s been a lot of talk over the last few weeks (driven mostly by the dismal Fall ratings at the CBC) about when might be the better (or best) time to release Canadian content.

Some believe these series should have debuted in late October or November to avoid the massive marketing campaigns that accompany the launch of new American series.

Others predict they’d do better if they were held until the dead of winter, when the thrill of the other new had worn off, or maybe in the Summer, or on the nights major networks program repeats, perhaps even in non-Prime-Time hours, or maybe…

Oh…Stop it! Just stop!

You’re all starting to sound like Dr. Christian Szell, the Nazi war criminal in William Goldman’s “The Marathon Man”, trying to figure out if he can safely retrieve his stolen cache of diamonds.

I’ll be publishing several posts next week with my take on why Canadian show numbers are so anaemic this season. But I wanted to make one point first.

No time slot on television is safe. They’re not supposed to be. That’s the whole point.

The entire system was built to support the needs of the advertisers and the audience. The audience wants to be inspired, entertained or shown something they’ve never seen before. The advertiser pays producers to do that in order to reach the largest possible audience.

No islands of safety were embedded to serve the mediocre, the less entertaining or those who just feel they deserve a shot.

It’s a system that does not guarantee that the “Best” shows succeed. But it is one that makes sure that the audience always has a choice.

Maybe that’s not “Fair” to those who struggle to make TV shows and maybe it goes against our Canadian penchant for treating everyone with equanimity. But that’s just the way it is.

And it’s only going to get LESS fair.

The wide open Summer season of repeats has been closing for a decade. Upstart cable channels kick off new series every month of the year, maybe every week.

Netflix now has more than one million Canadian subscribers and will DOUBLE the smorgasbord of content it offers before Spring.

Others (like the Google Megalith) are about to launch their own viewing alternatives that will further fragment the audience.

And then, late Friday, Youtube announced a massive increase in their streaming channels, literally offering something for everyone.

Just what kind of channels? Here’s a partial list:

Alchemy Networks
Alli Sports
Bedrocket Media Ventures, Official Comedy
Bedrocket Media Ventures and Full Picture Productions, Look TV
Bedrocket Media Ventures & Wasserman Media Group, Network A
BermanBraun, theLOGE
BermanBraun & Rodale Inc., Vigor
BermanBraun & Rodale Inc., Taste
Big Frame, BAM
Bleacher Report
Numberphile
CafeMom
Chopra Media/Generate, The Chopra Well
Clevver Media, ClevverStyle
Clevver Media, ClevverNews
Clevver Media, ClevverTeVe
The Comedy Shaq Network
Cooking Up a Story, Food Farmer Earth
DanceOn
DECA, KinCommunity
Demand Media, eHow Home
Demand Media, LIVESTRONG
Demand Media, eHow Pets & Animals
Digital Broadcasting Group (DBG), Spaces
East of Center Productions LLC, YOMYOMF
Electus, Pop Culture Channel
Electus NuevOn, Latin Channel
Electus, Food Channel
Emil Rensing International, Auto Channel
EQAL, u look haute!
Everyday Health TV
EYEBOOGIE, POP SPOT
FAWN by Michelle Phan
Fine Brothers Productions, MyMusic
Frederator Networks, Channel Frederator’s Cartoon Hangover
FremantleMedia Channel, Pets & Animal
Hearst Magazines, Fashion & Beauty Channel
Hearst Magazines, Car and Driver Television
Iconic, Life and Times
IconicTV, 123UnoDosTres
IconicTV, myISH
IGN Entertainment / Shine Group, START
Intelligent Television
Jon M. Chu, Dance Channel
Katalyst, Thrash Lab
Knights of Good Productions, Geek & Sundry (with Felicia Day)
Lionsgate, Lionsgate Fitness Channel
Machinima
Magical Elves and InStyle magazine, Little Black Dress
Maker Studios, The Maker Music Network
Maker Studios, The Moms’ View
Maker Studios, Tutele
Meredith Corporation and Meredith Video Studios, Digs
ModernMom Channel
Mondo Media, New Animators
monotransistor, werevertumorro
My Damn Channel: Live
New Nation Networks
Pharrell Williams, i am OTHER
Philip Defranco, Sourcefed
Pitchfork TV
PMC Entertainment News
Radical Media, Education Channel
Red Bull Media House North America
Roadside Entertainment/BAC, The NOC
SB Nation
Seedwell, American Hipster
Slate News Channel
Smart Girls at the Party
Smosh/Alloy Digital, Smosh Animation
Soccer United Marketing & Bedrocket, KickTV
SoulPancake Productions, SoulPancake
Source Interlink Media, Motor Trend
Steve Spangler Science, The Spangler Effect
TakePart™ TV
TED Conferences, TEDEducation
The Bowery Presents
The Nerdist Channel
The Onion, Onion Broadcasting Company
The Wall Street Journal
The Young Turks, Town Square
Thomson Reuters, Reuters.com
Tony Hawk’s production company, 900 Films, Inc., RIDE Channel
Uncommon Content Partners, The Conversation Channel
Uncommon Content Partners, Taste & Access
Varsity Pictures, Awesomeness
VICE, VICE
VICE, Noisey
Vlogbrothers, CrashCourse
Vlogbrothers, SciShow
Vuguru & POW! Entertainment, Stan Lee’s World of Heroes
Walter Latham’s “Kings of Comedy”
WWE Fan Nation
Young Hollywood, Young Hollywood Network

If you’ve purchased a HD television in the last year, it likely came with “Smart” technology, meaning it can pick up anything streaming over the Internet, be it Netflix, MLB.com or Youtube, so you can watch it right on the big screen from your usual spot on the couch.

If your TV isn’t so smart, you can increase its IQ for $99 by purchasing one of these at any place that sells television sets.

Television producers never had any business making programming that was just designed to be filler or made in the hope it would find some oasis of safety, where it didn’t have to compete on its merits with whatever was programmed against it.

Now, there is absolutely no place to hide.

And that’s a good thing. A very good thing!

Lazy Sunday # 192: Becoming A Failed Writer

2011-10-23T01:19:00.000-04:00

It's actually quite easy...

Enjoy Your Sunday.

Obsession x Voice (Failed Writer #6) from Yuvi Zalkow on Vimeo.

More here.

And the lecture it's all based on -- here.

Men Writing Women Writing Men

2011-10-19T15:41:00.001-04:00

On a fairly regular basis, somebody looks at a show with promise that fell on its face, a newly released set of statistics or the complaints of some frustrated artist and wonders if television would be better if more (or fewer) of a particular gender were involved in its creation.

Such was the case recently with a Globe and Mail feature by Kate Taylor entitled "You've Come A Long Way -- Maybe". Which you should read because it's very well written.

Although you do have to get past…

a) The initial statement of fact that all American TV writing rooms are "bastions of male hackdom".

b) The assertion, despite contrary interviews with several Canadians, that "there's no reason to believe the situation here is much different".

And above all…

c) That the UCLA Sociology professor supplying the "scientific data" admits he actually "has not finished compiling" all the research.

Maybe that last is just where the concept of "settled science" has brought us -- or its inclusion exemplifies what passes for journalism in Canada's purported National newspaper.

When these discussions get trotted out, they inevitably evolve into wondering whether men can really write women and vice-versa. And around that point we exit the realm of making TV shows and get into personal and societal issues that have not much to do with the reality of churning out popular entertainment.

That's because most people who are intimately involved in the production of TV shows embrace the singular truth that "A writer is a writer is a writer" and the abilities of any individual writer have less to do with what's between their legs than what's between their ears.

If somebody can write -- and more importantly write the kind of show you're desperately trying to make, you don't give a flying fuck what position they take to urinate. You just want them nailed down in front of a computer and writing.

I began my TV career at a time when a lot of women writers used initials instead of a first name so that script readers wouldn't know they were women. I always had a special soft spot for those who chose "BJ".

And while the chauvinist producers and writers that Anita Loos, Lilliane Hellman and Joan Didion first made famous certainly existed and probably still do in some places, I didn't understand exactly why this hidden identity game was still played.

Because I honestly don't remember any producer I worked for who read a submitted script and remembered the writer's name let alone thought to ask whether they were male or female. Most often, the discussions went along the line of "What about the one who wrote that thing with the thing and the dog? We all liked that one didn't we?"

True, the first couple of shows I worked on didn't have women writers on staff. But they all had female supervisors at the network level, female producers, directors and heads of various production departments. Not to mention actresses in key roles who had input into what transpired with their characters. And many of our freelance writers were women as well.

So while I often heard "This script is a piece of shit", I don't recall anybody ever suggesting that it could be made better if a woman were hired instead of a man to do the rewrite. Or a man brought in if said "turd" had been deposited by somebody of the lady persuasion.

I have no doubt there are a ton of women writers both my age and younger with unimpeachable stories of how they were used and abused and sullied by the world of television. But I'm just as certain those tales can be matched by any man in the profession.

Television is simply an equal opportunity user and abuser where, as the man said, "Good men (and women too) die like dogs!".

Yes, I know what the stats say about the percentage of women in writing rooms and how those numbers either don't seem to improve or do for a season or two and then backslide. And I can't explain it anymore than I explain why the team with the highest paid or best players doesn't always win the World Series.

If I had to come up with a reason, I'd say it had something to do with which showrunners have shows this season -- and what kind of shows the networks felt their audiences wanted.

That's because when I'm putting together a staff or making a list of writers I want to use, my only consideration is "Who can write the kind of scripts we need?" and that list gets further shortened by "Who's available?", "Who's reliable?" and "Whose quote can I afford?" -- or more accurately of late, "Who'll work for scale?".

I might get an additional list of writers the network or production company(s) want me to use. Often those lists include writers who are right for the show. And sometimes they include writers who are owed favors or have a contractual commitment the prodco or network can burn off if I hire them.

Sometimes the corporate lists include close friends, boyfriends or girlfriends. I try to shortlist the writers I think are right for the show.

And then the network puts a checkmark next to who's right for them.

And if you work in Canada, there's somebody from the government also wanting your staff to reflect some undefined (or indefinable) gender, regional or diversity target.

What I'm trying to say is, with that many different agendas being addressed, nobody is busy painting a "No Girls Allowed" sign to nail on the clubhouse.

Perhaps more important, no matter the final make up of your writing room, some demographic will be in the minority.

I just know there's always a point where I feel like a high school student council entertainment coordinator setting out to book "The Travelling Wilburys", who's ultimately thrilled that he found a pretty tight little "Bon Jovi" cover band.

Yes, women currently only comprise 32% of the membership of the Writers Guild of Canada. But then, only about 15% of the entire membership is working at any given time. And yes, a lot of that membership (both male and female) don't get writing jobs or even job interviews because they don't have a lot of produced credits to prove they know their craft.

So, it would seem the real problem might be the lack of work opportunities that would provide production experience for Canadian screenwriters overall.

But if someone like Kate Taylor wanted to write about that, she'd have to start questioning the resistance to producing Canadian scripted shows that comes from companies like the one which owns her own Newspaper.

How many scripted shows is CTV (like the Globe & Mail a property of Bell Media) producing this year? One.

One which has a woman co-showrunning it.

Indeed, despite Ms. Taylor's assertion that "the situation isn't much different here", virtually every flagship show on Canadian television has a woman in charge of its creative decisions.

"Flashpoint" at CTV. "Rookie Blue" at Global. "Lost Girl" at Showcase. "Call Me Fitz" at HBO Canada. "Living In Your Car" at TMN. Not to mention "Little Mosque", "Heartland" and "Being Erica" at CBC.

Hey, wait a minute… Should Ms. Taylor consider a think-piece asking if all those shows created and/or run by women is the reason ratings for Canadian TV series have gone into the tank over the last couple of years?

Of course not. Because too many series created and/or run by men, "Endgame", "Michael: Tuesdays & Thursdays", "Thirteen" and "The Bridge" have all tallied much worse numbers.

A woman writer I know once stated her belief that women network execs preferred male writers because they did not like having story conferences with women writers who might be smarter than them and male writers were also more "flirt-worthy".

Either of those assertions make me shudder on a whole bunch of levels.

The truth is -- the sex of your staff has nothing to do with the quality or entertainment value of your finished product. That's determined by level of talent alone.

And then, no matter what your sex or sexual preference, every writer can only pray (or "hope" if praying offends their belief system) an adequate audience finds and then keeps coming back to the show.

And even then -- you stand a pretty good chance of being cancelled.

As to "Can men really write for women and women for men?" -- that's pure Bullshit; the kind of intellectual nonsense reserved for network executives working on a doctorate in creative obfuscation.

For proof of how false and facetious this argument is, I'd ask you to surf over to Netflix and call up Season One of "Californication" Episode 12. Go nine minutes in to a conversation between a bride to be and her best friend moments before the march to the altar.

No matter who you are, you'll be instinctively aware of the utterly female truth in that scene -- a scene written by a man ("Californication" creator Tom Kapinos) and at the same time using language no male writer in his right mind would ever drop into any moment populated by drunk Australian Rugby players.

Good writers get it. They understand people. Whatever their sex, they know what makes the other tick. And they are intimately aware that unlike government bureaucrats, network executives or perhaps newspaper journalists, that each writer comes with a particular skill set that isn't replaced simply by bringing in a "different" writer.

Whether the works of William Shakespeare were written by Shakespeare, Christopher Marlowe or the Earl of Oxford; whether the real author of those plays was a gay man or noblewoman using a pseudonym, the reality is -- that sonovabitch could write. Men and women both.

Are the men in scripts by Nora Ephron, Diablo Cody or Shonda Rhimes underserved by their author? Do the women of "The West Wing" and "The Social Network" come off less than real because Aaron Sorkin is a guy?

No. What determines character depth and worthy content is talent. And talent is not a quality reserved for those of any sex, race or age.

So, could we stop all this nonsense and just make sure that the best people get the jobs? And maybe we could also ask that companies like the one Kate Taylor works for start supporting the creative endeavors of a few more of them.

Lazy Sunday # 191: Red Solo Cup

2011-10-16T02:09:00.001-04:00

Country Superstar Toby Keith describes "Red Solo Cup" as, "The stupidest fricken song I've ever recorded!". It's also turning into one of his biggest hits, as well as the audience participation highpoint of his live shows.

And he's right. It truly is a stupid song. But it's also fun and catchy and hard to get out of your head -- although I don't think you can really dance to it.

But it also resonates with something which every screenwriter wrestles.

We're all familiar with the light and flexible plastic container manufactured in a variety of colors by the nice folks at Solo (trademark registered, I'm sure). And what's becoming more familiar to fans of the Country genre is how many artists are now working product placement into their songwriting.

To be sure, Country crooners have always sung the praises of products they used or admired or knew their fans used or also admired. Everything from Ford pick-ups to Kenworth Semis, Lone Star Beer, Jimmy Dean Sausages and pretty much anybody sponsoring a NASCAR team has been immortalized in song.

But lately, the line of embedded products has crossed over into what passes for the mainstream. Items that can be found in any supermarket.

When last I posted an attempt to coax my readership into the pleasures of Country Music, I mentioned some of the product placement in Brad Paisley's latest Platinum-at-least offering.

But here's the thing.

It's all over the dial now.

And it isn't hurting the content or enjoyment of the product into which it's embedded in the least.

Now, I don't know if this trend is driven by advertisers searching for the audience that now deletes them from their PVR viewing, or it's coming from artists trying to make up for the continuing downturn in music sales. But if it means I've got something new to bop along to in the car and it keeps Toby recording -- well, where's the harm?

And maybe "Red Solo Cup" doesn't meet the normally exacting creative standards of the man who gave us "Who's Your Daddy", "Beer For My Horses" and the "Shock'n Y'All" album. But then, Garth Brooks practically begged his record label not to release "Friends in Low Places" and absolutely hated the song until it pole vaulted him into selling out 100,000 seat stadiums in 3 to 5 minutes.

By the time he was playing those shows, he'd added new verses and turned the tune into a show stopping set piece.

We, who write, often overly concern ourselves with what best exemplifies our artistic image of ourselves or whether our protagonist will be corrupted if he holds a can of Coke or Pepsi or the producer wants him to hold one while we scripted him holding the other. Toby Keith has found the solution.

Just pour whatever you're drinking into a "Red Solo Cup" and proceed to party.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

Let's See Who The Boys In The Backroom Will Have

2011-10-12T19:20:00.001-04:00

Every time politicians vote themselves a salary increase or new job perks, the argument is always: "If we don't, we won't get the best and brightest running for office." My response to this rationale has always been: "How come that hasn't worked so far?".

No matter which side or sidestreet on the political divide you've chosen to park, you're either openly or secretly aware that it's not just the "other guys" who consistently run incompetent dipshits for Public office.

We've all voted for people who promised to clean things up and didn't, level the playing field and tilted it or guaranteed hope and change that never arrived.

In just the last week, Ontario re-elected a Premier who has openly and unapologetically lied to its citizens and an American President sympathized with those occupying Wall Street while continuing to refuse to criminally charge "the banking folks who did some very bad things".

Meanwhile, in British Columbia, one arm of the government wants to outlaw smoking in all public places (interior and exterior) while another requested funding to hand out free crack pipes. Perhaps the hidden agenda is to get all the junkies to move to Alberta before lighting up…

Jesus Wept.

Are there no clear thinking, intelligent and passionate to do the right thing people running for elected positions anymore?

Well, of course there are.

Then, why don't they get elected?

And how come so many incompetent boneheads and brown envelope collecting scumbags do?

And why do so many who might make terrific Public servants not even consider the possibility?

Does somebody benefit from not having the best possible people in political office?

I've been asking myself these questions for a couple of weeks now, ever since a guy I've never met but come to consider a friend was mauled by a swarm of untruths and innuendo unleashed in a smear campaign against him.

Now maybe I'm taking this story personal because I've been the target of a couple of mud-slingings. And I gotta tell you, it's real hard to disprove a negative. About all you can do is say, "No, I'm not." But when a couple of people are saying "Are too!" and there's nothing on paper or even iPhone video -- well, it's time to hit the showers and hope you don't drop the soap.

For those who don't know this story, Anthony Marco, familiar to most in Canadian showbiz circles for co-hosting the weekly "TV-Eh?" podcast discussing current events in Canadian television, ran in the aforementioned Ontario election as a candidate for the NDP.

And with about 2 weeks to go in the campaign, the Ontario Liberal Party began disseminating out of context snippets from some of his other, more personal podcasts in order to brand him as everything from a Nazi sympathizer to cop hater and somebody you oughta think twice about letting near your children.

Now, from a political standpoint, Anthony and I are diametrically opposed. But I agree with about 101% of what he has to say on "TV-Eh?". More than once I've been absolutely thrilled that somebody who doesn't work in the industry can understand it as well as those working in the trenches -- but, unlike most of them, is willing to speak out about its many absurdities and corrupt practices.

Based on Anthony's insights into TV, I began listening to "Dyscultured", another podcast he does about Canadian culture and emerging technologies that should be required listening for anybody in the show businesses considering an expansion into new media -- or even just trying to figure out how to work their mobile phone.

Because of those podcasts alone, I'd have voted for the guy if I lived in his riding. For starters, unlike the Conservative party leader he was running against, he wasn't afraid to say what he stood for. But mostly, because I knew he would be somebody in the legislature who not only understood what Canadians are facing in the rapidly changing cultural and tech worlds, but could be a strong voice advocating on the behalf of both artists and audiences alike.

But the smear campaign won.

And a good man had his good name torn to shreds.

And the rest of us lost one who could've been one of the good ones.

Anthony has detailed what it was like enduring attacks that were both baseless and impossible to combat here in a log he kept of the events as they happened. On the same site you can find an archive of the daily podcasts he was doing as a candidate until the nature of what he was fighting forced him to pull the plug.

It's a must read for anybody either considering running for Public office or simply voting in an upcoming election.

We all know that politics is a rough and tumble game. From movies like "Mr. Smith Goes To Washington" to "All The Kings Men" to "Advise and Consent" to "The Candidate" to "Primary Colors" to the just released "Ides of March" we've all witnessed the drama of good men destroyed and those of lesser character succeeding.

Maybe that's the way of the world. But why do we put up with it?

Why are we willing to allow the lesser or mediocre at best govern our lives? Why do we regularly allow those who deal in character assassination, petty gossip and fear mongering to control how we choose those who would govern and lead us?

Are we that dumb? That small minded? That desperate to see somebody not much unlike ourselves tossed to the wolves?

Typically, we're told that the decision to smear somebody is made by the backroom boys in the party war rooms. It's not the people running, it's the campaign. But in the end, those elected get elected because of the campaign -- so aren't they the ones we should hold to account?

In this instance, it's clear that Dalton McGuinty, the Premier-elect of Ontario was aware of what was being done in his name to Anthony Marco. I wonder if he has the courage, the next time he speaks glowingly of Ontario Teachers at one of their gatherings, to explain why he allowed his minions to unjustly pillory a man those same teachers have chosen to represent their interests at the Union level.

Or is the Premier's real message, "I'll be your best friend as long as you don't get in my way".

And how do those of you who vote Liberal feel about your party going out of its way to unjustly ruin the reputation of a man running in a riding neither he nor you had any hope of winning?

Do you feel good about yourselves? Do you feel good about the people you give your time and money to elect?

Actually, that's a question I should be asking of anybody who supports any party. Because they've all done it.

And maybe, of equal importance, they've all done it with the assistance of the Main Stream Media in Canada. None of the concocted smears against Mr. Marco would have gotten past the press release stage if any of the newspapers, radio stations and TV networks reporting them hired journalists who either checked their facts first or weren't beholden to an editor beholden to assisting one of the parties.

To be fair, several did their due diligence after publishing and broadcasting the initial smears and dropped the story. A few more stopped rising to the bait in the days that followed as the Ontario Liberal Party continued to chum the waters.

But others just regurgitated what they were fed while their editorial boards had tea with the leaders trooped in to be scrutinized by the fourth estate so that each publishing empire could tell their readers who they had decided they should vote for come election day.

We long ago got rid of the corrupt and antiquated system where each voter had to publicly state their preference in favor of a secret ballot. Maybe it's time that corporate entities dependent on fat government advertising contracts also STFU and stop telling us where to mark that secret "X".

But that would mean basing a decision on party platforms and candidate qualifications rather than the spin the boys in the backroom want in play.

They're really the ones deciding who's worthy and who's not -- aren't they?

Towards the end of his essay, Anthony Marco wonders, given the trends in social media and online blogging, forum conversations and the like, where our future candidates will come from.

We all have online lives now. We've all posted a "Party On!" comment when a pal's status update says he's out drinking. Does that cost us the support of Mothers Against Drunk Driving? If we linked to a G20 riot video have we branded ourselves anti-cop? God forbid we ever hint at rolling a fattie or post a picture from a topless beach in Australia.

But what about being as innocuous as pledging support for one party when you're 18 and then changing your mind 20 years later. Does that come back to haunt you, make you a flip-flopper, indecisive or exhibiting disloyalty? The boys in the back rooms can spin "Love you, Mom!" into an Oedipus Complex if that's their intention.

And sometimes I think that's their real purpose. Not to get you to vote one way or another, but to make sure those with the smarts and the character to do what's best for their country don't win and those positions are filled with meat puppets so devoid of life experience, failures that led to insight and bad choices that made them better people that they will never question what the boys in the backroom want them to do.

After all. Cross one of the guys who specializes in spin and he can spin something against you. Even if he has to take it out of context or even better, just make it up.

Anthony Marco deserved better. And it's up to the rest of us to make sure that what happened to him never happens again.

Lazy Sunday # 190: Thanksgiving Dinner

2011-10-09T01:49:00.001-04:00

Like a lot of Canadians, I’ll spend much of this weekend in the kitchen, putting together a kick-ass Thanksgiving dinner.

Not to toot my own horn too loudly, but I’m a pretty darn good cook. And it wasn’t a skill I picked up from Mom or special classes or concentrated effort. I learned from watching TV.

When I was a kid, there was a British guy on Canadian TV named Graham Kerr aka “The Galloping Gourmet”. Kerr’s shtick was cooking a complicated gourmet meal in 30 minutes while simultaneously polishing off a bottle or two of fine wine.

He was funny and enthusiastic and given to breaking the rules of what passed for TV decorum back then, so I made a point of watching his show. And I soon realized what he was doing wasn’t all that difficult.

Meaning –- it was incredibly difficult, but he made it look far less daunting and something you could have a good time doing.

So one afternoon, while I was home with a cold, I copied down his recipe of the day and tried to recreate it.

Maybe I got lucky. Maybe my house mates were incredibly forgiving -– or just happy somebody else had done the cooking. But dinner was a hit. I never looked back.

If you ask me, the secret to cooking is not taking it too seriously. I mean, unless you’re cooking Fugu, how bad can you really fuck up?

And unlike the modern TV meme, you don’t have Gordon Ramsay or some douchey Iron Chef judge waiting to take you apart.

So, just have fun. And if having fun includes a couple of beverages, even better. As the following exemplifies…

Happy Thanksgiving! And Enjoy your Sunday…

Lazy Sunday #189: Maximall

2011-10-02T00:56:00.003-04:00

Famous last words, but by the end of the weekend, Life should be pretty much back to normal.

Once all systems undergo the final pre-launch check, regular blogging will resume next week. Lots of thoughts about the new TV season, the apparent seismic shift at the CRTC, Copyright, new production models and where it all might be leading us.

Let's hope some of it will be in creative directions like the one that follows. Click on "Full Screen" because the detail here is nothing short of amazing. And, of course...

Enjoy Your Sunday!

Maximall from Axel Tillement on Vimeo.

And...

For those in search of something more substantial...

Lazy Sunday # 188: The Last Seats In The Theatre

2011-09-25T02:17:00.001-04:00

Have you ever watched the goings on in a dog park?

All the Poodles, Labs and Golden Doodles bouncing around with one another, being nice to the purse dogs, sharing sticks and tennis balls.

Then – the gate opens and in walks a Rottweiler tricked out in a shiny spiked collar or soiled bandana. The mood suddenly changes.

Not among the dogs. Among their owners.

The people present are already stiffening, assessing the animal’s body language and temperament, eyeing whoever’s on the other end of its leash for any obvious signs of anti-social behavior.

More often than not, the dogs give the new kid a sniff and get back to doing what they were doing. Most often the perceived “bad boy” simply joins in the fun.

People, of course, are far more sophisticated. We have a thousand different ways of separating others from our particular herd. We seldom trust those who aren’t like us.

We pre-judge based on how those “others” are dressed, what newspaper they read, what kind of TV they watch, what’s written on the bumper sticker on their car.

And in the process, we wall ourselves off from broadening our horizons, having our beliefs challenged and sharing experiences that might open us to entirely new ways of thinking or living.

Or – maybe just require us to question or justify (just a little) exactly why we think and act the way we do.

Recently, the brewers of Carlsberg beer conducted an experiment involving our preconceptions of others. I think you might find the results both interesting and entertaining…

Enjoy your Sunday.

Sometimes A Great Notion

2011-09-23T16:24:00.001-04:00

Often, we get caught up in causes which appear just, seem to support fairness and carry the hope of solving complicated problems.

And then someone speaks with complete clarity on how simple the solution might really be. What follows are words which deserve your consideration…

ROAD FOOD

2011-09-21T19:14:00.001-04:00

I’m amid another of my epic “If it’s Tuesday, this must be Edmonton” road trips. And over the years, I’ve learned that it’s not just armies, but film crews and screenwriters that travel on their stomachs.

But while we live in a nation of plenty with an immense diversity in local produce and culinary selection, our highways seldom lead to anywhere other than tasteless, high-fat, high sodium burgers and dried out chicken fingers.

Oh, you can always find a farmer’s market, a grocery store with a deli section or a diner serving delicious home-cooked meals. But they’re all either far down some side street, plunked on a service road you can’t get to or hidden away in a town you don’t know.

Why is it that every major gas station or highway egress in Canada only hosts a major fast food chain?

Travellers in a hurry to reach their destinations seldom stop more often than they must. And when they do, it’s usually by pulling into a place where they can get gas, relieve bladders and find some sustenance at the same locale.

When I was a kid, that was usually your friendly Esso dealer, which contributed to its “Happy Motoring” motto by offering full service pumps, clean washrooms and a Voyageur restaurant with steeple point roof and Courieres du Bois canoe.

Back then, I stuck to a strict diet of grilled cheese sandwiches and strawberry milkshakes. But I’m told these places featured meals that reflected local delicacies from Alberta Rainbow trout to Quebec Poutine – all lovingly prepared by local chefs.

You can still find a few in towns where the main road used to run. On the current route, however, they’ve been replaced by concourses where you can find magazines, DVDs and sunglasses, but little food-wise beyond a burger and fries.

Now I like digging into a juicy burger as much as the next guy -- maybe more. But when you’re on the road for days at a time, you begin to wonder why this is our only option – especially at the same time our governments have become obsessed with the problems of high salt, high fat diets and Obesity.

Which momentarily brings me back to Edmonton.

A couple of weeks ago, Alberta’s Health Minister announced a $16 Million plan to reduce obesity. It made me wonder why governments just don’t do one thing to address the problem that wouldn’t cost them a dime.

You see, they own all of our roads and (for quite handsome fees) lease the locations where Shell and Esso and Petro-Canada build their franchises, subletting the adjoining space to MacDonald's, Burger King, A&W or Subway.

How hard would it be – instead of spending taxpayer money on new obesity programs – to simply require anybody who wanted to pump gas at the roadside to offer a healthy dietary alternative that might make an even bigger dent in the problem?

Does anybody really think truckers wouldn’t pull in for a nice Pho or mom wouldn’t rather the kids shared a spring roll than a meal that comes with a toy?

I’m not saying you have to kick all those high-school kids flipping burgers at minimum wage to the curb for some guy making bean sprout sandwiches. Just…

Give people the option.

For my sins, I’m a huge fan of The Food Network’s Guy Fieri, especially his current show “Drive-ins, Diners & Dives”.

Now, most of the hash slung on that program wouldn’t fall into any optimum healthy eating category. But a chunk of it does. And it certainly beats chicken fingers in anybody’s taste test. Which brings up something else governments could do for the weary, waistline challenged traveller.

While most of the locations Fieri visits are run by certified Chefs, more than a few are operated by guys with little more going for them than a love of cooking and some of mom’s recipes.

So, If every gas bar along Highway #1 in this country had to offer a burger alternative, can you imagine how many new local businesses might be created?

Businesses which might one day evolve into nation-wide franchises themselves.

And they wouldn’t need much more than the space to park a used shipping container, just like one of the best seafood restaurants on the planet, Victoria BC’s “Red Fish, Blue fish”.

So, we have proverbial “two birds with one stone” potential here. Increased employment and obesity reduction – without having to build a single additional tier of government spending or a whole new Public bureaucracy in the process.

As a side note -- Fieri owns a few legitimate restaurants. Check out the menu of this place and tell me it wouldn’t have you swerving off the road for a taste.

Which brings to mind another of my Food Network heroes, Jamie Oliver. Oliver has spent the last few years igniting food “Revolutions” on both sides of the Atlantic, changing school menus, steering entire cities toward healthier eating, etc.

Can you imagine how much positive PR some multi-national fossil fuel dispenser could acquire if it simply propped his apple-cheeked visage next to their roadside logo promising a nutritious menu to offset the carbon footprint?

I mean, is there anybody who better embodies that “Think of the Children” mindset?

I realize that most governments have to prove they’re keeping busy by creating programs that throw money at a problem. But this is something we could do with little more than the stroke of a pen.

Decent, tasty food that’s also good for you from coast to coast to coast. More than my own burger clogged arteries would thank those with the foresight to make it happen.

Lazy Sunday # 187: Sam & Ralph

2011-09-18T17:35:00.001-04:00

I was doing a couple of location shoots last week and took my sheepdog along for the ride.

Somewhere in the middle of the prairies, she needed a walk and I punched “Rest Area” into the GPS, finding one a couple of clicks up the road.

Like most Prairie roadside stops, it was little more than a grove of trees in the middle of nowhere and as we approached I noticed what looked like a lump of roadkill on the shoulder.

But the pile of fur lifted its head to check us out. It was a coyote.

It’s not unusual for a coyote to bed down near a busy highway. They’re naturally curious animals easily entertained by our coming and goings – and there’s always the chance a passing semi will deliver a free bunny or skunk dinner as it rolls through.

I didn’t give the critter a second thought. What coyote’d be so bored he’d wander a few hundred yards up the road just to see what I was up to.

But I was wrong.

We’d only been out of the car a few minutes when the coyote loped into the rest area, eyeing my dog and, perhaps sensing it was a female, happily wagging his tail.

Now “Dusty” (my pooch) has had a close encounter with coyotes before.

When she was about a year old, we were on a late night walk when the coyotes in the conservation area the house overlooked made a kill, whooping it up like crazy as they celebrated the hot meal to come.

Dusty froze, listened a second and then made a beeline for home, terrified. No sooner were we in the door, then she went to the landing window facing the park and stared out through the glass.

Four hours later, she hadn’t moved a muscle, keeping watch on where the coyotes had been howling. She was still there the next morning.

Back in the rest area, I felt confident that a single coyote wasn’t going to mess with a guy and his dog. But I leashed up my pal to get both of us out of harm’s way all the same.

The dog was trembling, her eyes locked on the coyote as it took a couple of steps forward, still wagging its tail and, for all I know, sending “come hither” vibes.

Dusty wasn’t buying and she suddenly squared herself, digging in her heels. Not running but not attacking either.

Standing her ground, she turned from docile travelling companion to ferocious beast, snarling and barking ominously, daring the coyote to take one more step, her body language threatening deadly consequences if he did.

I looked down at her and could have sworn all of her hair was standing on end, making her look twice her normal size. Somehow I was now leashed to “Cujo” in full menace mode.

600 years of instinct and breeding was kicking in. This was the enemy, the animal she had been bred to keep from sheep and cattle.

And despite the fact that she’s never shown the slightest interest (let alone any affinity) for sheep or cattle, this intruder was getting the message that she was the last creature with whom he wanted to mess.

The coyote stopped wagging his tail, turned and trotted away.

We got back in the car and for the next half hour, Dusty sat in the back, making sure we weren’t being followed.

Back in 1954, Chuck Jones immortalized the conflict between Sheepdog and coyote in a classic cartoon entitled “Sheep Ahoy”. It was a tremendous hit, introducing the Wile E. Coyote character.

In his original incarnation, however, Wile E. was just a slavering, red-eyed villain without a name. But the popularity of the cartoon spawned several sequels featuring a sheepdog named Sam, a coyote named Ralph and the concept that both were just doing the job they’d been hired to do.

Like the generations of instinct and inter-species understanding I witnessed this week, those old Warner Brothers cartoons still pack a comic punch 50 years later.

Sam and Ralph. Enjoy your Sunday.

Lazy Sunday # 186: Finding The Words

2011-09-11T00:39:00.001-04:00

Winston Churchill once said of Americans – “They will always do the right thing -- after exhausting every other possibility”.

Observing the current level of animosity and rancour that exists in American political debate, it’s hard to imagine that Americans will ever again find common ground and be able to treat one another with decency and respect.

And then you have moments like the ones that occurred yesterday in Shanksville, Pennsylvania as past Presidents George Bush and Bill Clinton and Vice President Joseph Biden dedicated the Memorial to the passengers of United 93.

Three men representing both ends of the ideological divide, and who have all had occasion to say very unkind things about one another, set that aside to speak from the heart about how what had happened in the skies over Pennsylvania meant to them and to their country.

Each was a magnificently constructed oration. And each gave you the impression that when it really matters, when the moment is right, both sides are capable of doing the right thing.

I’m certain others in New York and Washington will similarly find the right words as the events of September 11, 2001 are remembered.

But these are all well worth recalling.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

The Meanest Man in Hollywood Was A Canadian

2011-09-06T16:30:00.001-04:00

OUR HOLLYWOOD HISTORY (10/10)

Lazar Meir never knew precisely where he'd been born. It might've been in Russia or the Ukraine, it might've been on a boat to North America. It might've been in Canada or even the United States. Heck, he didn't even know which year marked his birth, let alone the month or the day. What's more he could never prove his parents' name was actually Meir. There simply was no documentation and neither of his parents seemed able to recall the details either.

However he came into this world, Meir spent the first 19 years of his life in Saint John, New Brunswick and so Canada claims him. And he was content to have us do that -- when it suited his purpose.

He never shone in school. Mostly he skipped, to pull a little wagon through the streets, picking up discarded metal for his father's scrapyard. At fourteen, he left school permanently to become the junior partner in a scrap company that now bore his family's adopted name Mayer and Company. His first name was changed as well -- to Louis.

The business did so well, that in 1904, Louis convinced his father to expand to Boston. Here he met a new girlfriend named Margaret, who introduced him to a wondrous new invention called "the moving pictures". Mayer was immediately smitten, both with Margaret, whom he soon married, but also with the possibilities of the movie business.

Together, they pooled their resources and purchased a theatre in nearby Haverhill, Massachusetts that was so rundown the locals had changed its name from "The Gem" to "The Germ". Working day and night for months, assisted only by a man from the nearby lumberyard, and with everyone else, including the local newspaper editor, claiming they were out of their minds, Margaret and Louis renovated the place into a 1000 seat jewel box theatre they called "The Orpheum".

From its opening night, "The Orpheum" revealed what would become Mayer's trademark flair for showmanship and uncanny ability to sense what the audience wanted.

Unable to avoid musicians, let alone an orchestra, he installed an organ, starting a trend that would continue well into the 1970's. He only booked "wholesome, family entertainment" and promoted it tirelessly. He also brought in the stars of the films he showed to sign autographs and answer questions from the audience. It was the first time anyone, anywhere had conceived of the "personal appearance".

Audiences flocked to the Orpheum and within 4 years Mayer not only owned every other theatre in Haverhill, he owned the newspaper, firing the editor who had said he couldn't succeed. A year later, he owned an entire chain of theatres throughout Massachusetts and realized he had enough clout to form his own Distribution company. So he did that too.

Finally, in 1915, he formed "The Metro Company" to produce his own "wholesome, family entertainment" and in 1917 moved it to Hollywood so he could film all year round.

Once in California, Mayer began developing what became known as "The Star System". Years of watching audiences react to actors making personal appearances had taught him what they wanted in the people they paid to see onscreen. And while the other studios hired actors, Mayer found "interesting people" with "interesting qualities" and groomed them for stardom.

By 1924, Metro was making 4 or 5 features a week, all making profits. Impressed at his achievements, the Loew theatre chain came to Mayer with their production entity, Goldwyn Pictures, which they needed someone to run. Mayer agreed to merge it with Metro and appended his own name at the end. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer was born.

It would go on to become the most successful film studio of all time and Mayer would soon be the richest man in Hollywood.

If Mayer had a secret about producing successful films, he didn't try to hide it. In fact, he placed it on the company logo for everyone to see "Ars Gratia Artis" -- Art is beholden to the Artist.

To Mayer's mind, his job was to create a place where artists could do their best work. They were not only his livelihood, they were his family and he his place was to protect them at all costs. Hence the Lion in the logo, whose real life counterpart, Leo, lived on the lot with a large staff and accompanied Mayer to important studio functions.

The philosophy seemed to have merit, for in 1926, the top ten films produced in America were all MGM productions. And all of those films had stars either discovered or polished into stardom by MGM, including Ramon Navarro, Buster Keaton, Greta Garbo and Lon Chaney.

Knowing that his stars and their movies needed as much publicity as possible, Mayer founded the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in 1927 and created separate studio divisions to train and promote his actors.

And over his career, Mayer probably created more movie stars than all the other studios combined. He also had a reputation for giving newcomers a chance. If they proved they had an inner spark and were willing to work hard, he put them under contract and turned them over to coaches and teachers who diligently built them into what he felt the audience wanted to see.

He began attracting the cream of film talent from Clark Gable, Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, Joan Crawford and Jimmy Stewart. He supported them with the best writers money could buy and the top directors, not to mention lavish productions that packed theatres all through the Depression.

But he also showed loyalty to his past as well. The man from the lumberyard in Haverhill was put in charge of set construction at MGM and a Broadway actor named Walter Pidgeon was offered a long-term contract the minute Mayer learned he was also from Saint John, New Brunswick.

Mayer also did anything he could for the Silent stars who had helped him build his theatre chain and Metro. He kept dozens working into their sunset years with bit parts and supporting roles, still treating them like stars, often sending his own car to pick them up for work or take them home. On those days, Mayer walked to work so no one else need be inconvenienced.

What's more, Mayer had an entire division of the company staffed with ex-cons who had served time for Forgery. He'd realized that there was no way his stars could sign all the autographs that fans requested, so he brought in forgers who could perfectly mimic their handwriting to personalize each and every fan response. To make sure none of them lent their skills to any other MGM documents, Mayer made sure they only had access to green ink.

If you find a personalized MGM photo on eBay, check the ink. If it's green, the signature is the work of a forger.

But all of Mayer's attention to detail paid off. Audiences felt that they too were part of the MGM family. By the 1940's, the studio boasted without challenge that they were the home to "More Stars Than There Are In Heaven".

And despite earning more than a Million dollars a year ($20 Million in today's dollars) it was well known that he gave most of that away, to build University theatres and synagogues, to support technical research that benefitted the entire industry, and to fund medical research that helped the entire world.

In 1943, with black soldiers in Europe still relegated to their own units or squadrons, Mayer issued an edict that no one who discriminated against another race would any longer find employment at MGM. Segregation of any kind on the lot was equally forbidden.

So how did a man such as this gain the reputation of being "The Meanest Man In Hollywood"?

It might've been because protecting his family sometimes came at a great cost. Some said all he wanted was an appreciation for the special life he had given his stars. Some said he wanted something more.

Mayer was ruthless with those who sullied the name of MGM or put one of its people in jeopardy. He once not only fired an actor who'd been arrested for urinating off a location balcony and closed down the shoot, but he let other studios know they could never borrow another of his stars if they employed him.

He banished directors who refused to do reshoots or chose their own artistic vision over what Mayer felt was best for the script or the stars involved.

In a once famous contract dispute with Clark Gable, he threatened to introduce the actor's wife to his mistress if he didn't reduce his financial demands. And he led the way in assisting Senator Joe McCarthy's "Witchhunt" to expose Hollywood Communists he felt were undermining the values of the American audience.

He also constantly fought with MGM ownership in New York and his own Producers. Many attributed Irving Thalberg's sudden death at age 37 to stress caused by Mayer's relentless work ethic.

He was ruthless in protecting his "family". Perhaps to the point of covering up a murder.

On September 4, 1932, MGM actress Jean Harlow's new husband, Paul Bern, was found dead in their home of a gunshot wound. According to Mayer, the maid had called him at 10:00 a.m. and he had rushed over, getting her to call the police who arrived at 11:00.

But neighbors insisted they'd seen Mayer and Howard Strickling, MGM's Head of Publicity, ushered into the house by Harlow at 7:30. A short time later, an unidentified man showed up just as a white limo with tinted windows carried someone else away.

When the police arrived, they found Mayer and Strickland and the body. They were told Harlow had spent the night looking after her sick mother at her parent's home. There was also a suicide note at the dead man's side, apologizing to Harlow and stating that "this is the only way".

The studio kept Harlow sequestered "at doctor's orders" for several weeks. And by the time she did meet with detectives, Bern's death had been pretty much accepted as a suicide. The police ignored the statements of the neighbors, going with the more precise times that matched the statements made by Mayer and Strickling.

By then, the maid had left town and nobody involved seemed to have any idea about the limo or the unidentified man.

Had Harlow's husband met his end in any other manner but his own hand?

No one will ever know for sure. Although a reporter, who did some digging 20 years later, discovered two interesting tidbits.

The Maid and her husband were living on a handsome income from some unknown source in a little town back East called Haverhill, Massachusetts.

And the suicide note in Paul Bern's hand -- had been written in Green ink.

Louis Mayer ran MGM until 1951, and might have done so for longer had he not given his Board of Directors a "Him or Me" ultimatum regarding his company President in New York. Among the last of the projects he put into production was the studio's massive 1952 hit, "Singin' In The Rain", a film which depicted the inner workings of a studio not unlike his own.

Mayer was devastated by his eviction from the family he had so lovingly built and died of Leukemia in 1957, leaving the bulk of his fortune to research on the disease.

Without him to lead it, already eviscerated by anti-Trust suits, the rise of agents who could end-run star contracts and Television, MGM drifted into financial problems and was finally carved up between Ted Turner and the Sony Corporation in 1986.

One of the first things to be removed was the massive steel sign Mayer had erected on its roof in 1926. Perhaps fittingly, it was trucked to a nearby scrapyard.

Lazy Sunday # 185: The Wheel Of Death

2011-09-04T01:36:00.001-04:00

We all take pride at doing something really well. Even if it isn't a really big thing, it gives you a deep sense of satisfaction. I'm personally in awe of people like surgeons and sharp as a tack lawyers, or cops who solve murders.

But I also get a thrill seeing somebody parallel park in like three seconds using one hand and not even glancing in the rear view.

That shit just impresses the hell outta me.

But I can't imagine having the kind of confidence and poise that allows you to literally risk your life every night of the week and twice on Matinee days -- just to entertain people.

That takes a level of commitment few in this business even come close to making.

But here are two guys who do just that.

May they leave you in awe.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

The Canadian Who Made The Movies Talk

2011-09-02T19:02:00.001-04:00

OUR HOLLYWOOD HISTORY (9/10)

Virtually any respected encyclopedia, reference book or history of the motion picture will tell you that the first movie with sound was Warner Brothers' "The Jazz Singer", released on October 6, 1927 and that Al Jolson's "Wait a minute, wait a minute, you ain't heard nothin' yet." were the first words spoken onscreen.

Like a lot of stuff that comes out of Hollywood, this is pure bullshit.

Because another "Talkie" had appeared months earlier using a process invented and perfected by a Canadian.

Douglas Shearer was born in Montreal, Quebec in 1899. And while his sisters Norma and (the unfortunately named) Athole aspired to be singers, actresses and models, he became obsessed with electricity.

Long before he was even in high school, little "Dougie" had built an electrical lab in his basement, alongside the darkroom he'd constructed, to conduct experiments in -- "the miracles of sound and light".

At the time, residents of the upscale Westmount neighborhood were constantly complaining to the city of frequent power blackouts. City workers were at a loss to explain them. And Shearer's parents never revealed that most were caused by their son's basement experiments.

Before he was 14, Shearer ditched school to work at Northern Electric, where he was soon a leading light in their experimental division. Eventually, with the help of a teacher who faked a high school diploma for him, Douglas entered McGill University to study electrical engineering.

But his family fell on hard times and after only a year of University, Shearer was back at Northern Electric.

Around the same time, Norma and Athole moved to New York, where both found theatre work and soon began appearing in films at Biograph. Norma was quickly singled out by Universal executive, Irving Thalberg, who brought her to Hollywood. By 1924, she was making quite a name for herself and Douglas decided to visit.

Thalberg was now second in command at MGM and he and Norma were engaged. At one of their parties, Douglas fell into conversation with Jack Warner, who offered him a job, "starting at the bottom" at Warner Brothers. The next day, Shearer went to work moving props.

But he spent his long hours hanging around the set learning all he could about the way the industry used cameras and lighting and began dabbling with ways of improving it. He discussed many of these over Sunday dinners at the Thalberg house and soon found himself invited to perfect his ideas for MGM.

But while he tinkered with light grids and camera accessories, Shearer knew that the Holy Grail for all of Hollywood was Sound. And a few weeks after he'd arrived, he took a silent film, "White Shadows in the South Seas" into a recording studio and added music and effects that could be synchronized to the film by linking it to a phonograph.

Other studios had been supplying recorded music to play alongside their films for a couple of years. But no one had ever increased the reality of the experience by including the film's sound effects. Shearer achieved his single track record of both by creating sound effects while a live orchestra played the score.

Despite the film's success, Shearer knew what audiences really wanted was to hear actors speak.

In 1927, during the filming of Norma's next picture, "Slave of Fashion", he approached Thalberg with the idea of creating a talking trailer for the film. It would be a test run of his new Sound technique in all 15 Los Angeles area theatres where the film would play.

To create the trailer, he had the director film several scenes with the actors clearly mouthing their lines. Then after the film was edited, he had the cast lip-synch their dialogue as it was projected in a recording studio.

The dialogue was put on one disk and music and effects on another because no one had yet perfected a method of mixing all the sound elements together without one element drowning out the others.

But this meant that each theatre projection booth would need two additional people capable of dropping the needle on their separate records at the exact time the first frame of the trailer hit the projector.

Not confident that would happen, Shearer's plan called for a local radio station (where technicians regularly combined or "mixed" multiple recordings during live radio dramas) broadcast sound to the theatres. Radio speakers were set up behind each movie house screen with the projectionists taking their cue from the broadcast. It worked perfectly.

The "Talkie" had arrived.

In fact, the first screening was such a sensation, with audiences leaping out of their seats and cheering, that MGM had to arrange for an immediate repeat broadcast.

The trailer experiment went on for a week, with theatre managers claiming people were paying just to see the trailer and coming back every night.

But success turned to failure when "Slave of Fashion" was released. The finished film was still silent and audiences, led to expect much more, booed it off the screen.

Shearer was certain, however, that combining theatre showings with radio broadcasts could be accomplished for entire films. But MGM head Louis B. Mayer disagreed. If audiences could hear a movie in the comfort of their own homes, he reasoned that they wouldn't venture out to spend money to see it in a theatre.

A few months later, Warner Brothers released "The Jazz Singer", which, despite its "Hear Jolson Speak" hoopla, was a silent film with a musical track and only brief vocal interludes.

Shearer knew Hollywood had to think of something better. And he quickly did just that.

All over the city, studios were trying to perfect disc recording processes. But since film was fragile and constantly breaking, using such a system meant sound and picture were often completely out of sync.

Shearer felt the answer lay in magnetic tape and concocted a method whereby a second camera recorded sound while a primary camera recorded images. The process was tried for the first time with MGM's "All Talking, All Dancing, All Singing" feature "The Broadway Melody" in 1929. The film was a huge success and won that year's Academy Award for Best Picture.

Still feeling there was much to be done to make Sound truly feel real to an audience, Shearer expanded his division to perfect sound effects and eliminate camera noise and other studio imperfections. MGM's studios were quickly rebuilt to be sound proof.

Shearer also devised boom microphones, so actors didn't have to stand in one place to be heard. He also revised the way lights were hung and sets built to eliminate any chance still bulky and primitive sound equipment could cast shadows or would otherwise restrict directors when choosing their shots.

Every single one of his alterations to the way films were shot was replicated by the other studios.

By 1930, there were enough sound films being made for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences to award its first Oscar for "Excellence in Sound". Douglas Shearer won for "The Big House", and shared the stage with Norma, who won Best Actress for "The Divorcee", the only time a brother and sister have won the coveted trophy.

But Shearer wasn't content to rest on his laurels. He knew that the main stumbling block to Sound was the theatres themselves, where the era's speakers could not hope to fill their auditoriums. Indeed, sound was so bad in many that Charlie Chaplin continued to release only silent films that regularly topped the industry in box office returns.

Shearer and his team went to work inventing a device that came to be known as "The Shearer Horn". It separated music and dialogue, making both louder and clearer and became the industry standard. His invention remained in use up until the 1970's when theatres converted to stereophonic sound.

For MGM's 1936 film "San Francisco", he invented the first sound "mixer", combining 8 separate tracks of effects, music and dialogue to wow audiences during the movie's climactic earthquake sequence.

And he devised other improvements for film production as well, in 1941 inventing a fine grained film that gave screens in large theatres a never before seen level of clarity.

Then -- Shearer suddenly disappeared from Hollywood.

Never one to attend industry parties or even studio lunches or dinners, he now couldn't even be found in his office or laboratory. MGM ignored all requests regarding his whereabouts.

Then in 1945, he abruptly returned, declining to say where he'd been or what he'd been up to.

Finally, in 1947, he gave an interview to Variety acknowledging that he had spent the war years, at the specific request of President Roosevelt and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, perfecting radar. Later, although offered a civilian award for his military service, he declined, insisting he hadn't done it for any glory.

He hadn't done it for money either. During his four years of secret military service, the only paycheck Shearer cashed was the one he got weekly from MGM.

Through the late 1940's and 1950's, Shearer returned to sound recording, winning Oscars for "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo", "Green Dolphin Street" and "The Great Caruso".

By 1952, he had won 12 Oscars for his achievements in Sound, Special Effects and Technical Achievement, more than anyone else in film history.

But he would add two more to his total before he was through.

In 1958, he went to work developing a wide screen system that would eliminate the imperfect Cinemascope three camera system widely in use. Shearer came up with a 65mm film that could deliver wide screen using only one camera. It was dubbed "Panavision" and was first used on MGM's massive hit and multiple award winning, "Ben-Hur".

For his work, Shearer was awarded another Oscar and garnered his 14th in 1964 for perfecting the process of background projection.

In 1968, Douglas Shearer finally retired and the man no one ever saw lose his temper was asked if he felt slighted for not being acknowledged as the creator of the "Talking Picture". Shearer simply replied, "I knew what the studio and I had achieved and that was all that really mattered".

Douglas Shearer died in 1971, receiving a final honor never before (or since) bestowed on a Hollywood technician. His obituary filled the front page of the New York Times.

The First Actress Hollywood Destroyed Was A Canadian

2011-09-01T20:11:00.001-04:00

OUR HOLLYWOOD HISTORY (8/10)

There is an oft repeated tale that those who run afoul of the Rich and Powerful in Hollywood are "Blacklisted" or become "Gossip Fodder" or are otherwise driven from the community. The sad truth is that these stories are not always fiction and the practice began with a stunningly talented actress named Marie Prevost.

She was born Mary Bickford Dunn in Sarnia, Ontario on November 8, 1898. At the age of six, her father, a train conductor, was killed in a railroad accident and her mother took she and her sister to live with relatives in Alameda, CA. Not long after, mom married an LA banker and Mary changed her name to Marie to match his French surname of Prevost.

A bubbly girl with a wise-cracking sense of humor, Marie graduated from high school at the age of 14 and went to work as a legal secretary. She had no show biz ambitions whatsoever. But that would all change after a chance encounter in 1917.

The firm for which she worked represented Mack Sennett's Keystone Studios and one day Marie was asked to deliver Sennett a contract that needed signing. As she waited outside Sennett's office building, a man ran up to in a panic. "Quick, paste on a smile and run over to that table and sit down!"

Unaware the man was a director who'd mistaken her for an extra, Marie did what she was told. The chair collapsed and Marie did a perfect pratfall, then burst out laughing. Without a word of thanks, the director grabbed his cameraman and cast and hurried off to the next set up.

Marie took the incident in stride, collected Sennett's contract and went back to her office.

Next morning, her boss was waiting when she arrived. He was solemn and concerned, telling her Sennett had demanded she be sent back to Keystone immediately. Marie was sure she'd done something that would get her fired. But instead, Sennett was waiting with a contract to make one of his "Bathing Beauties". He'd seen her scene and wasn't taking "No" for an answer. Since he was offering almost double what she was earning as a legal secretary, Marie didn't hesitate.

As a Sennett "Bathing Beauty" Marie was expected to do little more than stand around in a swimsuit and look pretty. But now and then Sennett had the girls play small parts in his comedies.

One day, while shooting on the Venice Pier, Sennett learned Marie could actually swim and worked up a gag where he'd knock her into the water. That didn't seem all that funny to Marie, so when the camera rolled, she knocked Sennett into the water instead. Surfacing to find his cast and crew helpless with laughter, Sennett doubled her salary on the spot and made her one of his Studio's comic foils.

Over the next two years, the size of Marie's roles increased as did her audience popularity. Other studios began offering her contracts. But she felt she could learn more about comedy working at Keystone and turned them all down. In his autobiography, Sennett referred to her as, "The most talented actress I ever discovered".

But in 1920, Universal made an offer Marie couldn't refuse and she left Keystone. Her first film for the new studio, "Kissed" was a massive success and established her as a star. She had so many admirers, Universal had to hire a full time secretary just to answer her fan mail.

She made two more films for the company in 1921 that made so much money they literally saved the struggling studio from bankruptcy.

Keeping a close eye on Marie's career was Warner Brothers studio head Jack Warner, who made a pre-emptive bid when her Universal contract came up for renewal. In addition to a huge increase in salary, Warner promised her script approval, co-star approval and the right to turn down any studio that might ask that she be loaned to them for a picture. No actress had ever been offered so much control over their own career.

And that's when things started to go wrong…

Ever on the prowl for ways to promote his studio and his stars, Warner noticed a budding romance between Prevost and actor Kenneth Harlan. Without consulting them, Warner went to the newspapers to announce that they would be wed on the set of their next picture, "The Beautiful and the Damned".

The only problem was -- Marie was already married.

A few years earlier, she'd become involved with a wealthy LA socialite named Sonny Gerke and they had eloped because Gerke was afraid to tell his mother she was no longer the most important woman in his life. Sonny and Marie didn't even live together and every night he went home to Mommy.

One afternoon, Mom was out shopping and saw Marie being dragged out of a bank by a bunch of policemen. She was so shocked she failed to see the camera crew filming the incident. All the same, she went home and told Sonny in no uncertain terms that Marie was no longer welcome in their home.

Instead of telling his mother that Marie was an actress, Sonny phoned his wife and informed her the marriage was over and she was not to contact him again. By the time she went to work for Warner Brothers, Marie didn't even know where Sonny was.

Warner was still outraged and threatened to fire both Marie and Harlan. But his lawyers talked him out of that since the wedding announcement had been his own stupid mistake.

But Jack Warner didn't like looking stupid and even though "The Beautiful and the Damned" broke box-office records and Marie soon got her divorce and married Harlan, the studio boss began the long, deliberate process of making Marie Prevost pay for his mistake.

She quickly discovered that she no longer had script and co-star approval, nor any choice in where she was loaned out. And if she complained Warner was happy to make her sit at home until her contract expired.

But Marie loved doing comedy, so Warner first loaned her to William Randolph Hearst's Cosmopolitan Studio to make a film called "Red Lights" he thought had bomb written all over it. The picture became such a hit, however, that Warner's had to hire two secretaries to make a dent in Marie's fan mail.

By that time, Jack Warner had already sent her to Louis Mayer's First National to film another sure-fire disaster entitled "The Wanters". It too was a smash.

Pressured by his brothers to get their own contracted actress making money for them, Warner demanded that his top director, Ernst Lubitsch "put her in something that won't cause such a fuss".

But Lubitsch was acutely aware of Marie's comic talents, so to placate Warner and still direct a successful film, he gave her a supporting role to Adolphe Menjou, Florence Vidor and Monte Blue in "The Marriage Circle".

Under Lubitsch's direction Marie shone in every frame in which she appeared. And the director made a point of telling the world at the film's Premiere, infuriating Warner when he said, "It is unforgivable she is not billed as the number one star. She stole every scene!". The first night audience howled its agreement.

Menjou and Vidor were scandalized but Monte Blue agreed, stating he couldn't wait to work with Marie again.

Instead of swallowing his pride and realizing he was wrong and Marie was a potential goldmine for his studio, Warner redoubled his efforts to ruin her. He put Monte Blue on his shit list as well, burying him in such crummy movies that the man ended his career as a circus clown.

By now, others in the film community were realizing that Warner's vendetta was getting the better of him. Sam Goldwyn sent over a terrible script called "Tarnish" and requesting the loan of Marie's services. Warner jumped at the opportunity. But once signed, Goldwyn revealed the real script, penned by his top writer Frances Marion. Warner was livid. And Marie had another huge hit.

Meanwhile, Lubitsch set up his next two features, "Three Women" and "Kiss Me Again" both written specifically for Marie. When Warner refused to cast her, Lubitsch pointed to a clause in his own contract granting him the use of any Warner contract player he wanted and Marie headlined two more successful films.

Still, in 1926, Warner refused to renew her contract, then quietly put the word out that any actor or director who worked with her could forget about ever working for Warner Brothers.

By now, the stress of the constant conflict was taking its toll on Marie. During the last two Lubitsch pictures, Jack Warner had been on set for all her scenes demanding additional takes. And while Lubitsch always used her best performances, the long hours caused her to start drinking heavily.

Her marriage began to crumble with Harlan additionally blaming her for the downturn in his own career. To top everything off, her mother was killed in a car accident.

It looked like Warner would finally push Marie out of the business.

Other Hollywood friends tried to help as best they could. Cecil B. DeMille shepherded Marie into the Sound Era with his first talkie, "The Godless Girl", and Frank Capra gave her a juicy supporting role in one of his first comedies "Ladies of Leisure".

But more often than not, Marie's opportunities evaporated as others turned her aside in order to avoid Warner's wrath.

By 1936 she was existing on handouts, living alone in a small apartment with her pet terrier. And on January 23, 1937, she became a grotesque symbol of what happens when you cross a studio boss, when her emaciated body was found many days dead and partially eaten by her dog.

As a further indignity, it was revealed that Marie Prevost had died of starvation.

Shamed by what had been allowed to happen to one of their own, many in the Hollywood community banded together to create the Motion Picture Country House and Hospital to provide medical care for those in the industry who had fallen on hard times.

But after that she was largely forgotten until her death was immortalized in Kenneth Anger's "Hollywood Babylon". That lurid chapter inspired Nick Lowe to write a song about her in 1978. But to date, none of her Warner Brothers films have been made available on either video or DVD. Even after death, Jack Warner's vendetta continues.

Here's Marie Prevost in Frank Kapra's "Ladies of Leisure", her comic skills sparkling at 10:25 as Barbara Stanwyck's roommate and almost making you forget the much bigger star who might have been.

Hollywood's First "Bad Boy" Was A Canadian

2011-08-31T16:16:00.001-04:00

OUR HOLLYWOOD HISTORY (7/10)

The movies have always had a love affair with "Bad Boys". Fans love rugged, hard-living, hard-partying characters who break all the rules, get all the girls and somehow end up on top.

Sometimes it works in the studios' interests to imply that the actors playing those parts aren't far removed from the characters they make famous.

The stories about Errol Flynn, Sinatra's "Rat Pack" and other stars up to and including Charlie Sheen have become the stuff of Legend. But one man can be credited for not only creating the myth other stars have emulated but embodying it completely, a Canadian named Jack Pickford.

Pickford was born in Toronto on August 18, 1896, the youngest brother of Mary Pickford, who would become the biggest star of the Silent Era. But while she became beloved as "America's Sweetheart", with more fans than the rest of Hollywood put together, her brother solidified a reputation as "Hollywood's Nightmare".

Jack made his stage debut at the age of 8, universally acknowledged as a beautiful boy with immense talent and predicted to follow in the footsteps of his already famous (in theatrical circles) sister. Some even felt Jack had the makings to become the best actor of his generation.

But somewhere during the run of his very first play, Jack revealed another side of his personality, one which would soon scandalize not only the movie business but much of the world -- and ultimately destroy him.

Later in life, Jack acknowledged that his legendary capacity for alcohol got its first test during that first play. And it ignited a desire to push the boundaries of morality as much as he could.

Even as a child, Jack had an unbridled love of fun. He was known for possessing a potent combination of talent and charm. He was nice to everybody, a completely "happy-go-lucky" guy. By the age of 12, he was wowing Broadway audiences and producers. As one director put it, "He came over the footlights like an angel from heaven."

But backstage, another Jack Pickford was emerging. His sense of fun warped into rough practical jokes that humiliated members of his casts and crews. At the age of 13, he was caught having sex with the daughter of a wardrobe mistress. He once even glued on a merkin to hide his youth and visited a whorehouse. The merkin didn't fool anybody. But it did make him a hit with the resident ladies.

Those incidents aside, his drinking increased exponentially and he began using cocaine. Audiences still loved him, but he was becoming a handful backstage.

His mother enrolled him in a military academy in the hope he would straighten out. But instead, Jack recruited other boys into what might have been show business's first "entourage". When one theatre owner attempted to discipline him for some prank, Jack had his academy friends descend on the theatre and cover it with obscene graffiti.

Before his 14th birthday, he was officially blacklisted by the New York Theatre Managers and Producers Association -- forbidden from even attending auditions.

Jack's banning didn't have much impact, however, for in 1911, the entire Pickford clan moved to California to embrace the movie business fulltime, and producer Carl Laemmle, perhaps unaware of Jack's excesses, perhaps hoping to curry favor with Mary, signed him to a movie contract.

A year later, at 16, he starred in his first feature, "A Dash Through The Clouds", while also causing a lifelong rift between Mary and fellow silent stars Lillian and Dorothy Gish by -- as Lillian would admit decades later "doing things to Dorothy that neither of us understood at the time".

Indeed Jack had a reputation for turning up in the dressing rooms of his leading ladies, dropping his pants and ordering them to have sex with him. Some threw him out. But many more did not.

Jack also formed a new entourage that included actors Wallace Reid, Lew Cody and Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle. They were known for their wild parties and out of control hi-jinks. First dubbed "Pickford's Gang" and then "The Rat Pack" they were rumored to be regularly provided with cocaine by director Desmond Taylor -- until he was mysteriously murdered; and once literally destroyed an exclusive Beverly Hills country club.

Banned from ever darkening the doors of the club, Pickford and his pals crashed a car into the main dining room, tossed patrons into the pool and then pelted them with beer bottles. Mary somehow managed to convince the police to drop charges and paid for all the damage.

But Pickford's gang had some harmless fun at the expense of other stars as well. On Charlie Chaplin's wedding night, they hired the famous Paul Whiteman orchestra to set up on his lawn and play Sousa marches into the wee hours. Despite Pickford's assurances that Chaplin was in on the gag, he wasn't around when the police arrived and hauled the entire orchestra off to jail.

As Pickford's career success grew with movies that were lauded by critics and hugely profitable to the studios, so did his capacity for causing trouble. He appeared to be settling down in 1917, after Paramount's Adolph Zuckor provided financial backing for the independent "Jack Pickford Film Company" and he married Zeigfeld Girl and rising star Olive Thomas.

But with America entering WWI and realizing he might soon be drafted, Jack suddenly enlisted in the Navy. While studio publicists applauded his patriotism, privately, he told friends his fame had allowed him to land a cushy desk job far from any combat.

And to all outward appearances, Jack seemed content to serve his country although stationed in New York. But shortly after the Armistice was signed, the New York Times ran a headline screaming, "Scandal in the Navy" over a story revealing that Jack Pickford had been supplying women, booze and a penthouse party location to Senior officers in order to secure safe postings for friends and wealthy associates.

A little studio and family finagling saved him from a court martial and although discharged as "medically unfit to serve", Jack was soon back in LA making movies. But Olive was heart-broken at the realization that the man she'd married had not mended his ways.

The couple seemed headed for divorce. But a year later, they set sail for a "second honeymoon" in Paris. Unfortunately, it would end in tragedy.

After a night of clubbing in Montmarte, Jack frantically called the front desk of his hotel to send up a doctor. A half hour later, Olive was pronounced dead -- from poison.

At the inquest, it was revealed that Jack had been diagnosed with Syphilis in 1917 and was taking the only known medication at the time, Bi-chloride of Mercury -- poisonous in large doses. Shortly after his return from the Navy, Olive learned that he had passed the incurable disease to her. To this day no one knows if her death was from an overdose of Mercury, suicide -- or she was murdered to keep Jack's secret.

Back in Hollywood, Jack had become a pariah overnight. He only made one film in the next year, albeit with a clause in his contract that he would have no physical contact whatsoever with his leading lady.

He soon left town for New York, returning a year later with a new bride, another Ziegfeld girl, Marilyn Miller. Ziegfeld was outraged, threatening in print to "murder the man". But once again, Jack charmed Hollywood's elite and appeared to be mending his ways.

The newly remarried Jack was affable and agreeable with everyone. Over the next couple of years he made eight more successful films. On the surface, his domestic life seemed perfect. Yet as one close friend confided, "That's the thing about Jack. He's always pleasant. But he's always loaded."

Then one day, Marilyn announced that the marriage was over and returned to New York to take the lead in a new Ziegfeld show. After five years of marriage, she had finally learned her husband had Syphilis.

A deflated Jack made one last film, "Exit Laughing" and then joined Marilyn in Paris to finalize the divorce. Why Paris? The couple knew a divorce in New York or California would require them to provide details of their marriage neither wanted to make public. In Paris, they were out of court in 20 minutes.

Jack dropped out of sight for a while, surfacing in the social pages in 1930 when he married a third Ziegfeld girl. A year later, she too learned of his disease and moved out of their home.

Pickford then drifted back to California, now suffering the dementia that accompanies the final stages of Syphilis. After visiting a friend in Palm Springs in 1931, he missed a curve while speeding down a desert highway, totaled his car and was badly injured.

Mary rescued him from the small hospital to which he was taken and placed him in a private clinic in Los Angeles, where he was soon declared "clinically insane".

Jack's days in the clinic were mostly spent singing dirty songs as he recovered from his physical injuries. Once those were healed, however, he often became violent and Mary finally had him transferred to a clinic in Paris that claimed it had found a cure for Syphilis.

But recovery was not in the cards for Jack. He died on January 3, 1933, an autopsy revealing that much of his brain had been eaten away.

Hollywood's first "Bad Boy", a Canadian, was finally at rest.

Lazy Sunday # 184: So Fast

2011-08-28T02:55:00.001-04:00

It never fails, does it? You get wrapped up in a couple of projects, spend the remaining waking hours trying to keep the regular portions of your life operating normally and one day, you wake up, glance at the calendar and say, "Whoa! It's the last week of Summer!".

That was fast!

And so is this!

Enjoy Your Sunday!

The Canadian Who Created Comedy Legends

2011-08-26T17:50:00.001-04:00

OUR HOLLYWOOD HISTORY (6/10)

Just like every other kid, Del Lord dreamt of running away with the Circus. Life was boring in his hometown of Grimsby, Ontario and it wasn't much better in nearby Niagara Falls where his widowed mother moved them to find work.

But in his 14th Summer, a circus camped at the Falls for several months and its clowns took pity on the skinny kid who came by every day to watch them rehearse. They soon worked him into their routine, playing a hapless rube, dragged from the audience at every performance to be tossed around the ring, hit with buckets of water and otherwise made the butt of jokes.

Seeing how much her son enjoyed Circus life, Mrs. Lord gave her permission for him to follow them to their winter quarters in Jacksonville, Florida.

A few months later, in early 1909, she died and the Circus became Del Lord's family.

For three years he travelled with the Big Top, learning the skills of clowning and acrobatics. In 1912, while touring California, Lord's Circus was asked to set up near a Hollywood studio to serve as background for a film they were making. Del watched one day of shooting and knew he had found his true calling.

But his first job in the industry was building sets in fellow Canadian Mack Sennett's Keystone Studios. The construction was for a film Sennett felt might spawn a new star, a young vaudeville comedian he'd hired by the name of Charlie Chaplin.

Chaplin arrived but seemed overwhelmed by the world of the movies. He was new to California too and didn't know a soul beyond Sennett. Lord engaged him in conversation and Chaplin asked if he knew anywhere he might find a room. Lord took him back to the rooming house where he was staying. It was one of the few which allowed "theatricals".

Lord convinced the landlady that Chaplin was trustworthy and would pay his rent on time. Then the two sat up all night trading stories about their lives on the road.

"I was a very scared person. And when I saw the chaos of the studio I felt sure I would soon be on my way back to vaudeville. The second day was different. The second day, I had a friend" -- Charlie Chaplin

Chaplin went to work on his first film and Lord continued to build sets. But every night he and Chaplin would work on gags and routines back at the rooming house. Chaplin soon recognized that Lord had an innate sense of what was funny and begged Sennett to hire him as an actor so he would be available as an on-set coach.

Watching Lord work with Chaplin, Sennett also realized the kid had something special and Lord was soon put to work as a member of Sennett's comedy mainstay "The Keystone Cops". Lord reluctantly joined that raucous, slapstick stunt-fest. But not before leaving Chaplin with one more comic suggestion -- the moustache that became his trademark.

Lord's acrobatic training was perfectly suited for the dangerous mayhem that characterized "The Keystone Cops". Eventually he performed almost all of their dangerous driving stunts as well, many of which were filmed in LA traffic with no one else on the road aware they were part of the scene.

Despite almost being killed by locomotives, streetcars and driving over cliffs, Lord flourished. Sennett soon had him directing. And he was always on call to do one thing he did better than anyone else -- throw a pie.

"Putting a pie in Del Lord's hands was like handing Rubens a pallet and a brush. He was an artist to his fingertips." -- Mack Sennett

From 1914 to 1917, Lord directed hundreds of films for Sennett, polishing and perfecting the work of such stars as Harold Lloyd and Wallace Beery. He even convinced Sennett to re-hire a comic he had fired because audiences felt he wasn't funny.

Del Lord saw something in a guy named Ben Turpin. and in a few short weeks, Lord had transformed him into one of the biggest comic stars of the Silent Era.

The Crash of 1929 wiped Sennett out and hit most of Hollywood hard. But Lord's reputation as a "comic genius" kept him working for a number of studios. He made the transition to sound with ease. But as the Depression deepened, he found himself directing a series of unsatisfying musical shorts and decided to leave show business and make the kind of money that would support his family selling cars.

A couple of years later, that's where fellow Sennett director Jules White crossed his path. White had always admired Lord's work and had just been hired to supervise a new comedy division at Harry Cohn's Columbia Studios. Lord resisted at first, but White convinced Cohn to offer him a contract too rich to ignore.

Lord came back to the movies and was soon working with the likes of Harry Langdon and Buster Keaton. It was said that no one had to ask directions to whichever soundstage Lord was shooting. You simply stepped outside and listened for the uncontrolled laughter of the cast and crew.

A typical Lord set was so out of control that Crewmembers were known to stuff handkerchiefs in their mouths to avoid blowing a take. And even Buster Keaton, famous for his deadpan personality wasn't immune.

"Some of his ideas were so original and so hilarious that I often fell out of character and joined in the fun." -- Buster Keaton

But Lord would begin to make the mark for which he will forever be remembered in March of 1935. That's when he was put in charge of a struggling comic trio known as "The Three Stooges". Lord's style and inventiveness meshed perfectly with Larry, Curly and Moe. Over the next 13 years, they would make 41 films together.

Later in life, all of the Stooges would confirm that Lord had invented every single one of their trademark gags.

"We were the stars, but Del Lord deserved equal billing. He knew what we were capable of doing and he dragged every ounce of it out of us." -- Moe Howard

And while most directors would have been happy with the level of craft Lord achieved on set, he went further when the films were done.

Unknown to the studio, he would sneak rough cuts into local theatres and tape the audience reactions. Then he'd go back to the edit suite and run the films with this makeshift "laugh track", tightening jokes and eliminating bits that didn't work until he had audiences laughing from beginning to end of every Stooge release.

Around 1950, Lord began to scale back his work load and travel the world with his wife, Edith. In the process, he became troubled by all the child poverty he saw and vowed to do something about it.

He and Edith purchased a larger home and over the next decade raised and educated 21 refugee children from a variety of countries.

In 1968, he also went back to help the Stooges, launching a lawsuit to win them a share of the tens of millions their films were making on television. But the Distributors fought hard and eventually got Lord's case thrown out of court. But his battle inspired the children of the retired comedians to launch their own court action, finally shaming the rights holders into doing the right thing for their fathers.

Lord died in 1970, a man who'd never gotten very wealthy and never even been nominated for an industry reward despite the millions whose lives he had enriched with laughter. It was reported that no one from the Hollywood community attended his funeral, in most cases to avoid the wrath of those he'd sued on behalf of the stars he had helped to create.

But in attendance were the families of the Stooges and 21 other young men and women to whom he had given a better life.

Lord's last film with "The Three Stooges" can be found here.

Hollywood's Most Prolific Director Was A Canadian

2011-08-24T00:47:00.001-04:00

OUR HOLLYWOOD HISTORY (5/10)

Allan Dwan was born in Toronto in 1885, the son of a snake oil salesman who fled the city in 1893, taking his family to Chicago where he went into politics. According to Dwan, "It was just the natural progression".

The elder Dwan prospered in his new line of work for as Allan would also later say, "All politicians prospered in Chicago".

As a result, Allan soon found himself able to attend Notre Dame University where he became a star football player, member of the Drama club and top of his class electrical engineer.

After graduating, he landed a job with a company developing mercury vapor lamps. These became his entree into show business when he was tasked with installing the new lights in several Chicago theatres.

One night, George Spoor, one of the owners of the Essanay-Spoor-Anderson Film Company saw the lights in action and asked Dwan if they might be of use to the film industry.

Dwan didn't have a clue, but he rigged up Spoor's studio for a test which turned out to be a magnificent success.

As Dwan hung around the studio tweaking the lighting set-up, he noticed that writers were constantly dropping by to deliver story ideas for the company's films. Mostly, he noticed that Spoor paid $25 cash for each one he used.

Having had several stories printed in the Notre Dame student newspaper, and sensing he had much better stories than the ones he saw being shot, Dwan went home and gathered up 20 of his best. Spoor not only bought all 20, he hired Dwan on the spot to be his "script editor" -- for $300/week.

A couple of months later, another local outfit, The American Film Company, noticed an uptick in the quality of Essanay-Spoor-Anderson titles and offered Dwan double his current salary to work for them.

Dwan's first assignment for American was to join a crew of actors and technicians being dispatched to Arizona to shoot Westerns.

The distant location was less about achieving cinematic authenticity than finding somewhere nobody might look for a movie company.

Y'see, the year was 1910 and several film companies including the major players, Biograph and Vitagraph, had teamed as "The Patent Company" so named because they owned all the camera patents necessary to prevent smaller companies from making movies.

And they didn't put those companies out of business by hiring lawyers. They hired thugs to attack the sets, beat up the cast and crew and smash the cameras. And there were a lot of thugs for hire in Chicago.

On their first shoot day in Arizona, Dwan discovered the director had disappeared on what was a semi-regular bender. Nobody knew when, or if, he'd ever return. So Allan wired Chicago, asking them to send a new director. The return telegram was short and to the point. "You are now Director. Salary doubled. Deliver a minimum 3 films a week."

The Westerns the company was shooting were known as one-reelers, literally one reel of film or ten minutes in length. Still -- a tall order for somebody fluent in the cinematic arts and Dwan had never directed a frame of film.

But he gave it a shot, evolving what became his trademark, simple, straightforward story telling with no aspirations to "Art" or "Significance". Allan Dwan just made sure each film, each scene, each shot had a beginning, a middle and an end.

He also became adept at shooting on the fly, taking advantage of anything in front of his camera. One morning, he found an impressive cliff and improvised a fight with one of his cowboys getting tossed over it. Later in the day, he came across a desert aqueduct and concocted a story of one rancher poisoning the water that flowed to his neighbor, thereby leading to the fight on the cliff edge.

The company churned out several films over several months and then word came that Patent Company thugs had discovered their location.

Dwan was shooting a cowboys vs Indians film when he was alerted that a posse of Patent thugs were headed to the set. Thinking quickly, he had his actors change over to real ammunition and real arrows and attack the posse when it arrived. The intruders were quickly driven off -- with Dwan rolling film on the action.

Dwan wrote a story to go with the "cowboys and Indians on the same side" climax and the resulting film was a sensation when it was released.

By that time, the company had escaped to California, but avoided Hollywood, setting up shop in La Mesa, CA.

Over the next 15 months, Dwan produced and directed 200 one-reel films while writing over half of them. His output not only included Westerns, but melodramas and comedies as well. On days when he couldn't come up with an idea, he took his crew out and shot a documentary.

By this time, he was considered one of the top directors in America and Hollywood finally came looking for him. Dwan signed with Universal for another salary increase on the understanding that from then on, he would only write and direct features.

He was already attracting top talent like Wallace Reid, Norma Talmage and Donald Crisp (who would win an Oscar in 1941 for "How Green Was My Valley"). But he was discovering stars as well, including Gloria Swanson, Lon Chaney, who started as his props man, and Erich Von Stroheim, his AD.

Swanson and Von Stroheim would eventually be teamed in Billy Wilder's 1950 film "Sunset Boulevard" and if you look closely, Allan Dwan is one of the photographers in the movie's chilling final sequence.

Dwan's simple approach to shooting made him a darling of both studios and stars. Audiences also flocked to his films. In addition to writing and directing such silent classics as "Robin Hood", he helmed one of the first color films, "Stage Struck" starring Gloria Swanson in 1925.

In 1928, Fox put him in charge of all their sound films. They let him out of his contract to direct Douglas Fairbanks' first sound film "The Iron Mask" in 1929. It was also to be the last of the great swashbucklers of the era.

Dwan stayed with Fox until 1941, churning out several films a year, including classics like Shirley Temple's "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm" and "Heidi". In 1933, he made a star out of Ida Lupino in "Her First Affair" and discovered Rita Hayworth (Human Cargo, 1936).

In 1936, he also made a potboiler called "High Tension" that featured black actress Hattie McDaniel. McDaniel would become the first African American actress to win an Oscar in 1939 for "Gone With The Wind". But she credited much of her success to Dwan, saying he was the first director to treat her like a lady. She also treasured their first day on the set, when Dwan took her to lunch in the Fox Commissary. "For the first time, I was an equal member of the company."

Dwan's simple story telling style made him the go-to guy for almost any kind of film. Westerns, thrillers, horror, comedy, drama -- even historical spectaculars. No matter the genre, the budget or the stars, Dwan's work always found an audience. Yet he remained nowhere near as well known as John Ford, Billy Wilder, Alfred Hitchcock, George Stevens or William Wyler -- despite the fact that his credit would end up on more films than all of them put together.

One afternoon, UCLA called asking if he could lecture their film students on his craft. In his usual, no-BS way, Dwan stated that he didn't really know anything about craft. He just placed the actors, pointed the camera and trusted everybody else knew what they were doing. Then he rolled film and had a sandwich. He later swore that one of the students popped up to ask, "What kind of sandwich?"

In 1949, Dwan directed the film he knew would be the one he'd be remembered for, "The Sands of Iwo Jima" with John Wayne. The film was Republic studio's biggest success.

Having been in the film business for more than 40 years and beyond wealthy, he could have easily rested on his laurels but that wasn't Dwan's style. He began making independent features and in 1955 tried live television.

In 1958, at the age of 73, he directed his final feature, "Enchanted Island". By then his resume included 444 feature films, many of which he also wrote. Add to that more than 600 one and two reelers.

The most prolific director Hollywood would ever know kept writing scripts until he was 82 and in 1976, at the age of 91, accepted the LA Film Critics "Career Achievement Award". It was the first time he'd received any recognition for his work beyond the offer of another job.

Allan Dwan died in 1981, aged 96, leaving the UCLA Medical School his vast fortune and his body for research. Simple, straightforward -- and Canadian -- to the end.

Peter Bogdanovitch penned a biography of Dwan in 1970 entitled "The Last Pioneer" and many of his experiences shooting one reel Westerns formed the basis of Bogdanovitch's 1976 film "Nickelodeon". A full roster of Allan Dwan's films (some streaming in their entirety) can be found here.