Keith Makes It To 70

I’m old enough to remember seeing the first Rolling Stones album placed in the window of Regina’s Woolworth’s store, the place where all we local hip teens bought all our records.

It was 1964 and while I liked “Not Fade Away”, their first hit in my neck of the woods, I had already taken umbrage with the Tigerbeat and Teenbeat magazine insistence that they were the guys who would knock The Beatles off their perch.

In those days you took sides. Not necessarily in a Tupac/Biggie Smalls way. But you just didn’t buy the records of anybody who threatened your icons.

My ambivalence toward The Stones continued through at least the first decade of their career. While I’d been devastated by the deaths of Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Janice Joplin, the overdose/murder of Brian Jones had been of little consequence.

I liked more of their stuff by then, but they were still on my musical fringes, the kind of band you associated more with the darkness of Altamont than the warmth of Woodstock.

Then in February of 1977, Keith Richards was arrested in Toronto, charged with possession of heroin for the purpose of trafficking. His passport confiscated, he was forced to hole up in the city for a few weeks until a legal way could be found to get him home.

It was a bitterly cold winter and I was doing some play at the time that left me dashing for a streetcar I’d have to wait an hour for the next one if I missed it. One Saturday night, worn out from two back to back shows, I missed it.

Seeking shelter, I wandered into a small restaurant to get a drink and a bite. There was one occupied table at the back, a half dozen folks who’d clearly been there a while.

My food came, followed shortly by a froggy voice with a British accent calling from the table, “You eating by yerself, mate?”. It was Keith Richards.

He waved me over with a cigarette, instructing the gathering of wives, lovers and friends to make a place.

He was emaciated, clearly strung out and you got the feeling the others were more dedicated caregivers than acquaintances, making sure he was both protected and –- handled gently.

I missed a couple more streetcars that night, listening to astonishing stories, addled rants and enduring long silences where the looks among his companions telegraphed “Should we take him home now?”, “Is he taking a turn?” etc.

I left first, appreciative of our time together, but haunted by the feeling that the guy was not long for this world, no matter how adept and compassionate his entourage might be.

Keith weathered that crisis, returning to England for rehab a short time later. My next close encounter with him was more than a decade later when I went to see the IMAX Rolling Stone feature “At The Max”.

Two obviously long-time Stones fans sat in front of me, almost as high as Keith had been during our brief encounter. But even they were as astounded as I by the film’s first shot of the band in the wings prior to taking the stage.

The first thought that went through my mind was “My God, how many German sheep hormones have these guys been shooting?”.

Like many of those who have had the pleasure of that amazing concert film, the high point was the Keith’s performance of “Happy” before the Intermission. One of the guys in front of me was so moved, he turned to his buddy and said, “Keith’s so good they should give him TWO songs”. I’m not sure if his pal nodded or simply nodded off.

But again, I departed with the feeling that Keith could not last much longer.

I’m so pleased my diagnostic skills are so sadly lacking.

Keith turned 70 today and threatens to verify the belief of some that after the human race disappears, the planet will be inhabited by two life forms, the cockroach –- and Keith Richards.

And if that’s the case, I for one will be enormously “Happy”.

Lazy Sunday # 303: Singularity

Apparently –- at least according to some scientists in Denmark –- the Universe has begun to collapse.

Now, if you’ve read anything about the Big Bang Theory, you know a lot of scientists believe that will eventually occur (and use your best Carl Sagan voice here) “in billions and billions of years…”

Only these guys in Denmark have done some calculations and think it might be a whole lot sooner.

Not, as in, take a pass on the Christmas shopping or forget setting something aside for your grand-kids college fund sooner. But sooner.

Now let’s not forget that exactly five years ago today, in 2008, Al Gore assured us that thousands of climate scientists had concluded the artic would be completely ice-free by last Summer. And, well, look out any window in the Northern hemisphere this morning and it’ll give you some idea how accurate those smarty pants scientist guys were.

At any rate, the end is nigh –- or as nigh as it’s ever gonna be for most of us -- and it might be worth your while giving some thought to Life and Death and Eternity and how you and those you love fit into that picture.

But since getting your head around such weighty issues at Christmas can be a bit of a struggle, filmmaker Eric Hurt has done the job for you, in a brilliant short film entitled “Singularity”.

Prepare to be blown away.

And Enjoy Your Sunday…

Singularity from Eric Hurt on Vimeo.

Something For The Weekend

Lovely as the traditions of the season are, let’s all admit, it’s easy to slip into a rut.

But it’s also easy to turn all that around. Some thoughts for the weekend…

Flying This Christmas?

You might want to consider buying a ticket from the airline I take whenever I have the option…

Some airlines claim to be “The World’s Favorite” or promise to “fly the friendly skies” or assure you you’ll “fly with friends”; all hoping to offset the aggravations and annoyances that have become synonymous with air travel these days.

Some offer you a complimentary drink in their lounge, no charge for your first piece of luggage or a free headset for in-flight entertainment.

Others attempt to exemplify the best of their heritage through exotic menu items or flight attendants in traditional dress.

But only one goes this far to let their passengers know how much they are appreciated. For this reason, and many more, you might want to consider a Canadian airline that truly reflects the country they call home.

Westjet.

Lazy Sunday # 302: Reach Out Worldwide

Often it seems that only in losing someone do we discover how special they really were.

For most, Paul Walker, who died last week, was the star of a phenomenally successful film series that was more about cars than characterization.

Immediately, the media seized on the “lived fast – died young” meme to frame the story of Walker’s life, apparently unaware that he was so much more than a good looking action hero just as the “Fast & Furious” movies were about more than drag racing.

They made a visceral connection with fans who, like the aficionados of martial arts films, know that it’s the action scenes in such films that define and delineate characters. And those fans had lost an icon.

What’s more, the F&F franchise created a family of outsiders with their own special codes of honor and loyalty. And those drawn to that sense of belonging had lost a brother and a friend.

Then we learned that Walker was less about Hollywood success than using the assets success gave him to make the world a better place.

When he wasn’t shooting a film, Walker’s time and energy were dedicated to an organization he’d founded known as “Reach Out Worldwide”, a network of professionals with first responder skill-sets (EMT, paramedic, firefighting, and healthcare) providing expertise when disasters strike.

Designed to quickly respond to need and suffering, ROWW was responsible for establishing one of the first field hospitals in Haiti after its earthquake and to date has responded to earthquakes, tsunamis, typhoons and tornadoes all over the planet.

And Walker wasn’t one content to be the fund-raising face of the organization. More often then not, his were the first boots on the ground, tirelessly providing aid for disaster victims, many of whom never knew they were being cared for by a movie star.

In the wake of his death, Walker’s family asked that donations be made in his name to ROWW. And if you’re of a mind, you can do that here.

Or you can buy a DVD copy of “Fast & Furious 6” when it’s released next week, as a portion of its earnings will go to funding the humanitarian work Walker supported.

With the season of giving upon us, it might be fitting that we in the business do what we can for one who was part of “La Familia” as the Fast and Furious characters were fond of saying.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

Lazy Sunday # 301: Shaybu Shaybu!

Well, this is going to get interesting…

For those not paying attention. This week Rogers Communications, considered by most to be somewhere around number 3 or 4 in the TV broadcast hierarchy in Canada, took $5.2 Billion it had squirrelled away (probably from exorbitant roaming charges) and bought 12 years of exclusive rights to NHL hockey on every conceivable platform.

Almost immediately, a wringing of hands began over what this might mean to Canadian broadcasting as a whole and the venerable CBC in particular.

Y’see for years, CBC, home to Saturday’s “Hockey Night in Canada” twin bill of games and most of the playoffs, has claimed that Hockey and the money gusher attached to it was what allowed them to make “great” Canadian television.

It also allowed them to make fewer shows overall since it had 3 months of Prime Time taken up by the Stanley Cup Finals. Encouraged them to make cheap spin off hockey related reality shows like “Battle of The Blades”, “Last Man Standing” and the soon to debut “NHL Revealed”. Not to mention green-lighting countless documentaries and MOWs about the Canada/Russia series of 1972 and Don Cherry.

Now, it seems, they’ll have to do something else -- as well as find a way to pay for it.

Meanwhile, over at Rogers, a lot of Cancon will almost certainly be shunted aside so that their City-TV channels can broadcast hockey along with the multiple Sportsnets, since Rogers is committed to making every single game played by a Canadian team available nationwide.

That means up to seven games on any given night on competing channels and as many as three in a row on any one outlet.

This might strike some as overkill and have others wondering if there are really enough guys living in their parents’ basements in Burnaby and Woodbridge to attract well-heeled sponsors.

But it’s something Rogers had to do since competing (and so much better at broadcasting hockey) Sports network TSN would’ve been the keeper for most fans when cable unbundling begins.

It also prevents fans from opting for the NHL’s online streaming service “Centre Ice” which blacks out games available on local TV since now everything will be available on local TV.

Gee, I wonder if anybody at the NHL realized that Canadians would have no use for their online package anymore, meaning it will have to be funded by 8 guys in Boston, 3 in New York and whoever is watching at Wayne’s house in Phoenix.

Oh, and of course –- Rogers also needed you to be able to access games on your phone so they can sell more of those. And golly, who doesn’t lust for the thrill of end to end rushes on a 3” screen with a virtually invisible puck.

Hey, are we about to see the return of the infamous “glowing puck” of 1994? And if we are, how many Billions will Rogers have to pay Fox for those rights?

Also --  with $5.2 BIG going out the door on this one deal, will we soon see Rogers going back to the CRTC, hat in hand, to ask for some breaks on the money they currently have to spend on dramas and comedies? Or to “pretty please” bump up their subscription rates? Maybe higher charges for data packages?

I’m thinking that this might actually be one of those cases of corporate over-reach that ends up burning the guy with the deepest pockets more than the competition.

Anybody remember what became of the massive deals that were AOL/Time Warner, Daimler/Chrysler, Snapple/Quaker, and HP/Compaq from which all involved are still struggling to recover?

God knows, it could be quite a while before anybody owning Rogers stock sees another dividend check. And what happens to ad revenue when the hockey market is fragmented over so many games, night after night after…

Rogers just might have to feed the beast with new teams and a population as hockey mad as we are. And where would that be?

Wait. I know…

Shaybu, Shaybu.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

For those who don’t speak Russian, the lyrics are as follows:

Shaybu! Shaybu! Victory will be ours!
Shaybu! Shaybu! Guys, we are with you!
If we have to, we’ll score even more!
Shaybu! Shaybu! Russia is behind you!
Shaybu! Shaybu! Guys, you are strong!
We are the Russian team! We are are the Red Machine!

Lazy Sunday # 300: Go Riders!

Later today, I will pick up a couple of growlers from a local brew pub and venture into a Tiger den of Hamilton fans more adept at tailgate cooking than rooting for a winning football team –- like mine.

And I shall feel no fear of losing the wagers I will be offered, for I come from the Valley of the foot-bally Green Giants where our motto is…

The Tiger Cats will venture into said Rider Valley this evening where the predominant colors will be green –- and white…

A blinding, arctic white…

Poor Kitty.

Cold Kitty.

Little Mauled up Fur…

No, it won’t be pretty. Somebody should really call PETA.

Go Riders! Grey Cup 101! Nothing like winning at home!

Enjoy your Sunday.

Syd Field

In the Summer of 1979, I was hired by a couple of producers in Hollywood to write a movie.

I was still mostly acting back then, but I had a couple of Canadian writing credits and for one reason or another they either liked my stuff or I came cheap.

The initial excitement of “making it” wore off in a couple of days as I met a handful of fellow screenwriters about my own age. They usually had about the same number of produced titles as I had –- with one difference –- I’d actually heard of the movies they’d written while nobody in LA had seen anything of mine.

About to get an insecurity complex, I decided to spend as much time acquiring the writing education I’d never had as I did writing. And I soon found a slim volume by a guy I’d never heard of named Syd Field.

To be honest, hardly anybody had heard of Syd in the Summer of 1979. His book, simply titled “Screenplay”, had just come out and LA was not yet a breeding ground for script gurus and screenwriting conferences.

I read Syd’s book and frankly was a little put off by it. Because it made the craft of writing look so damn simple and the process of creating a story as step by step as changing the washer in a faucet.

I felt duped. But I also had the nagging suspicion he knew what he was talking about. Because when I applied his simple “paradigm” to my own script –- it got a lot better.

A week or so later, I saw an ad for a weekend course Syd was teaching based on his book and signed up. I think it cost me about 40 bucks -- not to mention two whole days away from the beach and exploring old movie haunts.

The class was small, maybe a dozen people sitting around a chewed up set of tables on mismatched chairs, while Syd mapped everything he’d written about on a blackboard.

The other writers seemed as sceptical as me. We had sweated blood and banged our heads against IBM Selectrics for years trying to churn out something decent. And this teacher, who wasn’t even one of us, more accurately a guy who basically wrote coverage, was making it sound as easy as snapping together the pieces of a hot rod model kit.

But once again, when you applied his theories and tried out his suggested adjustments, not only did the scripts get better but they seemed to suddenly push all the right buttons for the studio guys.

I figured Syd Field might be onto something.

A year later, back in Toronto with Syd’s dog-eared book of wisdom now opening all kinds of doors for me, the newly forming Writers Guild of Canada asked me to organize some writing workshops.

The first call I placed was to Syd, who was genuinely excited to come to Canada in the middle of winter to espouse his approach to writing.

He was a wonderfully down to earth guy, not at all inflated by his growing success, even though his book was now flying off the shelves in a world where everybody and their dog walker seemed to be “working on a screenplay”.

And when his workshop was done, the Toronto conference room seemed evenly split between those who felt they’d had their eyes opened and those insisting he was selling some kind of snake oil.

Oddly, none of the snake oil crowd ever amounted to much.

But a lot of the ones who continued to follow Syd’s “rules” made out like bandits.

By the time he passed away yesterday, Syd Field had spawned countless writing careers that have resulted in both personal fortunes and Billions in earnings for studios large and small. His list of former students who have won Oscars, BAFTAs, WGA and WGC awards and even a few Genies and Screenies is formidable.

Yet to the end he remained an easy going guy who just wanted writers to have an easier time creating better movies.

There are those who moved on to other script gurus, including myself. And there are many who blame Syd’s Paradigm for making so many films simplistic and predictable.

But that dog eared copy of “Screenplay” from 35 years ago still sits next to my computer and still gets cracked open now and then. 

For those writers inspired by Syd know that it wasn’t his rules that made movies bad. Because like all things creative they were merely a rough map, a line of torches in the darkness, simply showing a path you could then walk in any way you chose.

Syd, like Joseph Campbell, John Truby and Robert McKee, understood that human story telling has a biological component. Its structure is embedded in our DNA. Understanding that while the Human Genome has only 23 markers, each of the billions that are its product have our own unique and original story.

Syd brought millions of stories into the world, including my own. And for that, I, and anyone else who writes, owes him an endless debt of gratitude.

Slaughter Nick for –- Mayor?

First, Canadian actor Rob Stewart saved Serbia from a brutal dictator. Now the city of Belgrade wants him to run for Mayor.

Srsly?

Maybe Toronto should think about hiring him. I mean, well, they could do worse…

And it would be a shorter commute for him from Brampton.

More important for you Canadian film and TV types, this is how you engage an audience and make them want to see your movie.

Rob Stewart helming one of the great cities of Europe? As with so much of this amazing Canadian story -- weirder things have happened…

Lazy Sunday # 299: Screenwriters

Screenwriters. You can’t make a great movie or TV series without one. They are the spark which ignites the creative flame.

The image we screenwriters have of ourselves and our trade is an almost holy one. Dedicated. Ethical. Seekers of truth and lucid communicators of the human condition. The smartest guys in the room. But quiet about it and not at all stuck up.

We are the reason everybody else works.

Steven Spielberg steps onto the stage at the Academy Awards and intones, “In the beginning there was the word…” and the rest of the auditorium silently nods –- and we know he’s giving us the props we deserve –- and hope our quote ticks up, when that mantra is repeated at our next meeting.

We attend endless seminars and conferences where those with recent credits or a bundle of past triumphs speak in hushed tones about “the craft” and “passion”.

We laud those fellow scribes who were blacklisted for refusing to water down their vision. We toast those who never gave up no matter how often they were put into turnaround or had their series cancelled before it was given a chance.

We’re all about courage and determination and not going home until it’s perfect.

And several times a year one of us writes “Sharknado”.

“The Lone Ranger”

“A Good Day To Die Hard”

“Battleship”, “Alien 3”, “Green Lantern”, “Red Sonja”, “Xanadu”, “Super Mario Brothers”, “Catwoman”, “Battlefield Earth”, “Megaforce”…

I’d include all the Canadian films Telefilm has pumped tens of millions of your tax dollars into, but I wanted to mention titles somebody has actually heard of.

As Screenwriter William Goldman, a worthy role model and, let’s face it, pretty much a God to most of us who share his trade, said in his inimitable “Adventures in the Screentrade” -- No studio executive ever goes home to his wife and says, “Guess what, honey! We decided to make ‘Megaforce’!”

Except that one of them did.

And some screenwriter wrote it.

And likely got a development deal for “Megaforce II – The Return of Ace Hunter”.

And I’ve always wondered who these guys are. Where do producers find them? And what makes development execs fall under their spell, never asking the tough questions they level at the rest of us?

Who decides to park “craft” in a drawer for the weekend and churn out “Identity Thief” or “The Last Exorcism: Part Two”?

Who’s the guy pissing on Dalton Trumbo’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, muttering “Paddy Chayefsky was a hack” in Starbucks and not wearing their cardigan over their shoulders with the sleeves tied in front?

Well, I think I’ve found him. And he’s all too real and unsettling.

Enjoy Your Sunday.

More Stuff You Can’t See In Canada

In the Somalian city of Barawe this week, the terrorist group Al’Shabaab sent trucks with loudspeakers into the streets ordering people to turn in their televisions and satellite dishes, deeming that watching TV shows harmed their spiritual lives.

Halfway around the world in North Korea, 80 people in 7 cities were rounded up and executed by firing squads. They had been found guilty of watching TV shows beamed from South Korea, such programming having been determined to “cause changes to people’s mindsets” by the government.

One of the programs designated as most harmful in this regard was “Desperate Housewives”.

Luckily, nobody’s confiscating flat screens or frog marching audiences into soccer stadiums in Canada for public dispatch –- at least not yet. But everywhere you look, somebody here is throwing up even more barriers to prevent you from seeing all kinds of new programming.

Last Friday, Amazon, purveyors of books, DVDs, music and just about anything else you might want to buy online, debuted two new sitcom series for those who subscribe to their “Amazon Prime” delivery service.

Two things before we go any further:

One –- we need to come up with another term to describe TV series that you don’t necessarily have to own a television to watch.

In the same way that you can’t call Netflix a broadcaster because they don’t program or schedule anything, just letting you initiate the process and get what you want when you want it like any video store or Vegas hooker; we need a term for shows never intended to run first on Global and then on every fricken Shaw owned channel forever or until people stop believing everybody still drives a 1989 Ford Focus and has never heard of a cellphone.

And Two –- somebody needs to explain to me how “Amazon Prime” in the US gets you same day free shipping plus monthly free downloads of movies and music as well as specially produced “shows” –- while “Amazon Prime” in Canada gets you same day shipping if your entire order is in stock and it isn’t a statutory holiday.

Anyway.

Friday, Amazon debuted “Alpha House” written by Doonesbury cartoonist Gary Trudeau, which stars John Goodman and (Canada’s own) Clark Johnson and “Betas” featuring Joe Dinicol (also Canadian) and some guy in the writers room with a wonderfully twisted string of dark one-liners.

But you can’t see them in Canada.

Amend that. You can see the pilots by going to Amazon.com (not .ca) and clicking Amazon Prime. But if you want to follow where those shows go from there –- well, you’re outta luck.

And you’ll be further out of the pop culture loop a few months from now when Amazon debuts the first of its dramas –- “The After” the latest creation from Chris “X-Files” Carter.

And there will be many more since a company that’s basically a big mail order warehouse currently has more original drama and comedy pilots either shot, shooting or about to go into production than all of Canada’s broadcasters put together.

Almost daily now, I get email reminders from the CRTC (Canada’s Al Sha’baab and Kim Jong-un wannabees) that they need to hear what I think about the state of Canadian television. Well, how about this…

“IT’S OVER!”

And not only has the industry been smothered to death because our over-protected broadcasters never felt the need to actually make very much content, let alone content desperate to attract an audience; but it’s going to have a tough time reviving because we can’t even watch what other countries are making that we have to compete with.

It won’t be too long before we’re as behind the times and out of touch as Somalia and North Korea.

Check out “Alpha House” here. And watch “Betas” here. And do it before they come for your screens or suggest something’s been done to alter your mindset and you’d best hurry over to the soccer stadium.

Lazy Sunday # 298: Canada’s One Man Army

Canada is notorious for ignoring its heroes. There’s something about the national psyche that strives for anonymity. We don’t want to be noticed, singled out or made a fuss over. And we go out of our way not to tell the stories of those among us who would be celebrated in other cultures.

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. And if any Canadian broadcaster programs a movie about our war veterans it’ll probably be that inexcusable piece of shit “Passchendaele”, which has little to do with history and even less relationship to the real Canadians who fought in the First World War.

But our participation in WWII, when we took a larger and more important role is even less a subject of Canadian films and TV. The fact that the dwindling number of warriors from that generation have never seen their stories told onscreen is nothing short of a national disgrace.

It leaves the impression that we might have been there and maybe did our part and all. But it wasn’t like we did anything anybody else couldn’t or wouldn’t have done.

And while we smugly snigger at Hollywood’s war heroes, the cornball patriotism of John Wayne, the undefeatable heroes portrayed by an endless stream of stars; the truth is that there was one among us who would make even Chuck Norris hang his head and whisper, “I’m not worthy”.

You’ve probably never heard of Leo Major. And once you have I guarantee you will feel two emotions:

1) Disbelief that this man’s name never came up in any history class you ever took.

2) Disdain for anyone who claims to have programmed film or television in this country and did not fight to make his story known.

What follows is a simple list of Leo Major’s character traits and accomplishments on the field of battle. As you pin on your poppy tomorrow morning and partake in the eleven o’clock moment of silence, let those acts of remembrance note that there were hundreds, perhaps thousands, just like him.

Men and women whose blood may flow in your own veins, who once walked among you as teachers, storekeepers or that quiet nondescript guy who caught the same bus home from work that you did.

They might even be one of those frail and bent 80 year olds nearby struggling to make it through one more Remembrance Day ceremony.

But their lives and their stories have been denied to you -– and you have been made lesser people because of that not knowing.

Maybe the story of one man you’ve never heard of can spark the change we need in finally beginning to tell our own stories to ourselves and realizing that we are worth telling stories about.

Learn. And Remember –- and Enjoy Your Sunday.

Brent Butt Predicts The Future

All over the free world this morning, people who believe in honesty, accountability and a certain level of decorum from their elected officials are beginning to wonder if there’s anybody worth voting for anymore.

In Toronto, a mayor who apparently embraces the “high” part of higher office, apologized for royally fucking up by promising to stop doing whatever he was doing, hire a driver and stay in his basement when he drinks.

South of the border, a President who won the Nobel Peace prize a short while ago is overheard bragging to aides about how good he has become at killing people.

Billions in tax dollars gets blown on gas plants that don’t get built and dysfunctional websites that do. And every day some new whistleblower is coming out of the woodwork to reveal how much we’re secretly being used and abused by those we elect to look after our interests.

Is there nobody left you can trust?

Well –- I’m picking Brent Butt and the comic brain trust behind the Canadian TV series “Corner Gas”.

There’s an unwritten rule that every successful Canadian TV show has to let a few politicians have cameo appearances.

It’s actually a requirement buried in the incomprehensible boilerplate in the contracts we producers have to sign in order to get money from Telefilm.

To be honest, it’s a win-win for everybody involved. The politician gets to appear human and the media turns up on set for the day, guaranteeing at least one mention in a Canadian newspaper during your run.

But a wily showrunner or subversive scribe can use these guest appearances to let the Public know what kind of person they’re really dealing with.

Last week, an RCMP investigation into Senatorial expenses alleged that Senator Pamela Wallin mighta been cookin’ her books. And while many in her home province gasped “Not our Pam!”, a few folks recalled Pamela’s cameo appearance a while back on “Corner Gas”.

Art imitating Life or vice versa? You be the judge.

Lazy Sunday #297: Higher And Higher

One morning last week, I popped into my local coffee spot for a brew and strapped into the car for a long commute. An hour later, I was still in the parking lot, mesmerized by an interview on “The Howard Stern Show”.

It’s a shame many people still avoid Stern, feeling the self-appointed “King of All Media” is just another potty mouth radio shock jock.

Truth is, the title has stuck for a reason. There is simply nobody better at getting to the heart of the subject at hand.

The interview I didn’t want to risk missing a word of in rush hour traffic was with former Van Halen lead singer and distiller of a superb line of Tequilas –- Sammy Hagar.

Hagar was there to promote a new album. But he and Stern immediately took off on a tangent, discussing how creative inspiration comes about. That led to a wonderful insight for anybody making film or television as well as music in what makes artistic collaborations work.

Lately, there’s been a lot of discussion among Canadian TV types about if/why/how come the current “Golden Age” of television might be passing us by.

Those with experience in the business have tagged everything from risk averse network executives to non-writing showrunners and a lack of time and money as the culprits.

But one issue we seldom mention is a fairly rigid “way of doing things” that has begun to permeate how we go about the production process.

Take scriptwriting as one example.

I’ve never been able to get my head around writer rooms continually located a thousand miles from or working months prior to where or when the actors and directors turn up; or those that seem predetermined to take a Marxist Collective approach to what is released from the room to the production.

TV production is by its very nature chaotic, chaos created by those collaborating adding to or subtracting from the original intent to create something seldom fully envisioned on the page.

As Nicholas Ray once noted, “It’s never all in the script. If it was, why bother making the movie?”.

Yet, this latest “Golden Age” has seen the deification of Showrunners and the sense that Mathew Weiner’s attention to detail or the writing approaches taken by Vince Gilligan or Kurt Sutter are the only keys to their series’ successes.

It’s like some kind of writers’ revenge for the Auteur theory and the possessory directorial credit. But I’d bet all of the guys mentioned above would be the first to tell you how essential the nameless background singers, roadies and groupies attendant in their bands were to what it created. 

Yet. My social media feeds are rife with scribes bitching about intransigent directors and thespians who don’t thesp as expected, those respective jurisdictions being everything from bumps in the road to an IED that has blown everything to pieces.

Oh, the other Creatives are online weighing in as well, bemoaning their own problems in making the scripts they’ve been delivered work.

On one hand, all this signifies an industry with too little shelf space and far too few opportunities for the size of its creative community. But it also illustrates a system built to maximize efficiency while insuring the impossibility that a real chemical reaction might happen.

If there is one characteristic of virtually every TV series produced in Canada, it is this –- they’re predictable. You always know where the story is heading and how the lead characters will be affected.

But predictable doesn’t make for excitement or leave the door open for the surprises that keep audiences wanting more or becoming inspired to alter the way they think about things. 

All great bands, just like all great TV series, are the result of several disparate elements combining in just the right amounts. But here it often seems that efforts are made to keep a critical mass from sparking anything not tightly pre-formulated into life.

Sadly, there’s just no basic recipe for making television. And the necessary chemical reactions can’t even begin to happen when the artistic ingredients are isolated from one another or not influencing and restructuring each other on a daily basis.

That’s hard for an industry built on copycat product to comprehend. And trying to explain the often subconscious decision-making that determines how one artist determines which hill is worth dying on and when’s a good time to step back and let another artist take point is hard in the best of scenarios.

But Hagar explained the process brilliantly and taking his cue, Stern drove the interview into all kinds of uncharted artistic relationship territory.

What’s most striking is that given the history of “Van Halen”, Hagar and fellow interviewee, bassist Michael Anthony, have every reason to be as cynical about the music business as most Canadian TV people are about their industry.

But what they serve up instead is a cheerful and accurate assessment of how artistic temperaments operate when creating something truly unique.

In a lot of ways, TV series are just bands with the various craft Creatives being its assorted players. Yes, there’s often a dominant voice or multi-level head-butting, but in the best of them, the overall power of the final product is the result of a unique chemistry being nurtured and allowed to evolve.

Maybe if we got that part together, the roadblocks arrayed against innovative television in Canada might be easier to get over and around.

Please give Sammy and Howard an hour of your time. I believe you’ll find it very worthwhile.

And… Enjoy Your Sunday.

And a taste of what comes from finely tuned collaboration.