Notes from Underdog.

Confederacy of Dunces movie? I'll believe it when I see it, but have to dig the casting.

This has long been a rumored film, but something always gets in the way -- maybe the ghost of John Kennedy Toole himself. The one-of-a-kind novel, sadly posthumously published and decorated with a Pulitzer Prize, features the truly unforgettable Ignatius J. Reilly at the center, a portly, acerbic, misanthropic nutter. Anyway, now comes word that Zach Galiafianakis may star in a new attempt to get the film made, with Flight of the Conchords and Muppets director James Bobin in charge -- sounds like a perfect match.  But color me skeptical that it will happen, and still somewhat skeptical that it should. 

Anyway, hat tip to Vulture for the report. 

What do you think? Is Zach right for the role, or too "hipster"-ish? I think he can capture the smugness and find some of Reilly's clumsiness. 

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo: Book into film.

*** 1/2 out of 5

Swedish author Stieg Larsson's  book The Girl With the Tattoo had moments so disturbingly chilling and evocative that I had to put it down - only to have to pick it back up again, the same kind of shuddersome grip reminiscent of Thomas Harris' Silence of the Lambs.  The film version won't shock those of us who read the book in the same way, but whether you have or have not, the film is inarguably a well-crafted thriller.

Larsson's novel has sold about 25 million copies worldwide, and spawned two sequels -- published, alas, posthumously, as Larsson died of a heart attack at the age of fifty in 2004 -- and now is the basis for the new film The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, directed by Danish filmmaker Niels Arden Oplev.  Larsson himself was a journalist who clearly used his own experiences as an activist reporter as a basis for the Mikael Blomkvist character. The screenplay by Nikolaj Arcel and Rasmus Heisterberg makes mostly good decisions about what to cut and condense in adapting the book, while maintaining the gist and the spirit of things, but as is often the case, it still loses a little something in transition.

The story centers on Harriet Vanger, niece of the wealthy businessman Henrik Vanger, former CEO of the Vanger companies. Harriet disappeared when a young woman, a mystery that had never been formally solved. Harriet was like a daughter to Henrik, who is convinced she was killed. He hires Mikael Blomkvist, an investigative reporter being sued by a possibly corrupt industrialist for libel; Blomkvist is not just a reporter but an amateur sleuth. He actually finds he has a vicarious connection to Harriet Vanger, dating back to childhood. (The film spotlights this interrelation more than the book did.) 

At the start of the story, Lisbeth (a terrific Noomi Rapace), the titular tattooed, and pierced, girl with aspects of Asberger's syndrome,  is hired to spy on Mikael, to basically hack into his life -- she's a wizard with technology but utterly asocial; her personal life, after a rough childhood and some rather abusive experiences with men, is a closed book. (The original title of the novel and film in Sweden is actually "Män som hatar kvinnor" which translates as "Men Who Hate Women," which gets more overtly at the story's theme.) Lisbeth and Mikael eventually pair up, driven for their own reasons to solve this maddening case, as they dig deeper into the Vanger family's unsettling well of secrets. What seems a simple mystery unfurls layer upon layer.

While the book starts off slow in a prolonged prologue about Wennerstrom's libel case, the film does a nice job cutting to the chase in these early sections; the one time I found myself impatient with Larsson's novel was in its set-up. The adaptation makes quite a few cuts, many of them judicious given the book's overlength, a few of them to the film's detriment. A quite extended denouement in the book -- which wraps up the secondary storyline in satisfying fashion, is much more quickly sped along here. My sense was it was smart to focus that section down, but it may have been compressed a bit too much.

It also makes decision to move the chronology of when Mikael serves his prison sentence from nearer the beginning of his investigation, to the very end.  This works, though it seems odd that they essentially drop the Wennstrom story and his jail sentence for the majority of the film with nary a mention.

Every reader who embraces a book casts the film version in  their own heads; in my case I kept picturing Stellan Skarsgaard, even if he's probably ten years too old for the role of Mikael. But while Michael Nyqvist wasn't who I pictured, he's quite fine in the role, with the required curious face and disappointed features, and the right mix of edge and childlike fear. He's just not Stellan Skarsgard.

I had more trouble picturing the titular character Lisabeth Salander, despite Stieg Larson's vivid portrayal of her. Either way, Noomi Rapace absolutely is her. She captures Lisbeth's barely controlled anger under the surface, while slowly warming up as she grows to trust Mikael, letting him - and us - in a bit more, but never completely. Rapace reminded me a bit of 70s/80s actress Linda Manz, with her somewhat mannish features and permanently sullen expression. She has a unique sensuality to her that fits the character perfectly.

There is a brutal rape scene in the film, as vivid here as it was in a reader's imagination. Lisbeth's financial guardian Nils Bjurman, played by Peter Andersson, who looks like a pockmarked, slightly older Philip Seymour Hoffman, desires some kickback in order to help Lisbeth's financial situation. The scene is crucial; it helps one understand why Lisbeth would be so taken by the mystery of Harriet Vanger. And it's a tricky balance for the director, to go too far risks angering and alienating the audience, but to shy away from it risks copping out.  The disturbing scene almost goes on a bit too long, bordering on the exploitative, but mercifully ends before crossing that line.

Oplev is a solid director, whose lovely family film Drømmen (aka We Shall Overcome) is worth seeking out, but I can't help but wonder how the film might have turned out with superior suspense filmmaker behind it. (We might find out eventually, if David Fincher ends up remaking it, as is rumored. Normally, I'm skeptical of American remakes but it's hard not find that match-up compelling.) But the Swedish production is Scandanavian suspense along the lines of Insomnia and Opley, with cinematographer, capture the blacks and blues of the northern hemisphere, and the blood red the bubbles under the surface.

The film has a few awkward flashbacks, a shorthanded way of getting at both Mikael and Lisbeth's childhood traumas. While it's necessary to condense these passages from the book they're a little too rushed over. The script also condenses and brings in earlier the finding and researching of evidence found about Harriet's disappearance, including a key discovery, which in the book happen rather climactically but in the film occurs as a turning point a third of the way in. A choice to ratchet up the suspense perhaps.

But The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo still works quite well as an unsettling suspense film, that, like the book, comments on contemporary society -- not just Sweden's but the Western world's -- the moral bankruptcy of many aspects of capitalist society, while weaving a most gripping mystery tale. 

JD Salinger and film.

JD Salinger died today. He was out of the public eye for so long it was sometimes easy to forget that he was still alive, but regardless his novels and short stories continued, and will continue, to have great influence on the reading and writing world.  But like a lot of people I often wondered about the fact that his works remained untranslated to film (wondered about it even when acknowledging that this was probably indeed a good thing.) Anyway, there is an interesting little history of his relationship with film in his Wikipedia entry (see entry for footnoted sources). 

In the early 1940s, Salinger had confided in a letter to Whit Burnett that he was eager to sell the film rights to some of his stories in order to achieve financial security.^[33] According to Ian Hamilton, Salinger was disappointed when "rumblings from Hollywood" over his 1943 short story "The Varioni Brothers" came to nothing. Therefore he immediately agreed when, in mid-1948, independent film producer Samuel Goldwyn offered to buy the film rights to his short story "Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut."^[33] Though Salinger sold his story with the hope—in the words of his agent Dorothy Olding—that it "would make a good movie",^[34] the film version of "Wiggily" was lambasted by critics upon its release in 1949.^[35] Renamed My Foolish Heart and starring Dana Andrews and Susan Hayward, the melodramatic film departed to such an extent from Salinger's story that Goldwyn biographer A. Scott Berg referred to it as a "bastardization".^[35] As a result of this experience, Salinger never again permitted film adaptations to be made from his work.^[36]

----

In the wake of its 1950s success, Salinger received (and rejected) numerous offers to adapt The Catcher in the Rye for the screen, including one from Samuel Goldwyn.^[35] Since its publication, there has been sustained interest in the novel among filmmakers, with Billy Wilder,^[48] Harvey Weinstein, and Steven Spielberg^[49] among those seeking to secure the rights. Salinger stated in the 1970s that "Jerry Lewis tried for years to get his hands on the part of Holden."^[50] The author has repeatedly refused, though, and in 1999, Joyce Maynard definitively concluded: "The only person who might ever have played Holden Caulfield would have been J. D. Salinger."^[50]

Here's more from Letters of Note, correspondence from Salinger regarding film adaptation inquiries for Catcher in the Rye.

RIP, David Foster Wallace. A Remembrance.

I am speechless and beyond saddened at the news that author David Foster Wallace took his own life today. He was someone I admired and regarded as both highly intelligent and blessed with a great sense of humor. His stories are often marvelous. Please read them.

Meanwhile, I can't write much about him at the moment, but John Seery - who knew him personally - does a fine job in his own remembrance:

David Foster Wallace, 1962-2008

Update: Read Wallace's timely-again piece on John McCain, from Rolling Stone, April 2000:

The Weasel, Twelve Monkeys And The Shrub:
Seven Days In The Life Of The Late, Great John McCain

More links from GreenCine Daily.

 

Another book set in a boarding school.

I have nothing against Tom Dolby (son of groundbreaking sound meister Ray Dolby), and admit I haven't even read his writing - hey, I've heard some good things - so I don't mean to pick on him specifically here, but after reading about his new novel "The Sixth Form," I finally had to say something.

If you're currently writing a book set in a boarding school, or thinking about writing a novel set in a boarding school, I have one word for you: "Don't."

Enough books set among the privileged young lads struggling to find themselves amidst the confining confines of a New England prep school. Enough. Enough.

Book: How Independent Screenplays Work

Me You and Memento and Fargo: How Independent Screenplays Work,  JJ Murphy's useful book on the varying structures of indie scripts, should be of particular interest to budding screenwriters as well to those critics with an interest in, as Variety would say, "scribes." The elongated title names three of the films focused on here - others include Gus van Sant's Elephant, Jim Jarmusch's first feature the deadpan Stranger Than Paradise and Linklater's Slacker (which seems de rigeur for any discourse on independent film over the past 20 years, but less commonly analyzed for its screenplay). 

If the book has a fault it's that Murphy, a Professor of Film at the University of Wisconsin, can get a bit too bogged down in rehashing point by point the plot for each film dissected, occasionally without enough analysis or context. Particularly in the first chapter's detailed examination of Stranger Than Paradise, the plot recap is especially trying  if you've seen the film. But the book does find its rhythm more in each subsequent chapter. One may ask, why rehash Strangers Than Paradise rather than some of the other truly innovative screenplays, say, Charlie Kaufman's Being John Malkovich (but is that an "independent film"?) - yet when you look a more elaborate film like Malkovich you can see that, as out there as it is, the script does follow a classical three act structure (the painful process of writing therein Kaufman would later deride, or at least chronicle, in Adaptation). 

The book could also use more analysis in some of the chapters, but detailing plot points are necessary to examine how Jarmusch (and the other directors in the other sections) varies so wildly from conventional hollywood screenwriting.

In a discussion of Hal Hartley's comedy Trust, trying to explain the structure of a Hal Hartley screenplay seems a bit like trying to explain a platypus - it's a freak of nature, one of a kind, any attempt to explain it will seem futile -- but Murphy makes a valiant effort.  What goes into a Harmony Korine script would seem outside any rational human being's mode of description, but again Murphy does well to break a challenging film down by the way the script works (and doesn't) - in that case the freakish comedy Gummo, in my opinion the most clearly divisive film looked at here - you either love it or hate it - along with Elephant.

At first blush the high school shooting drama Elephant might seem an odd choice, seemingly practically scriptless, and, as Murphy admits, "it's ultimately not character-driven," but, he points out, it actually has a 3-act structure, and while it starts slow it does build to the expected tense payoff in the last act.  The highly structural approach in Elephant can be off-putting, too, but Murphy's examination of Van Sant's storytelling actually made me want to go back and see the film, to appreciate it more.

Most interesting from a screenplay structural standpoint - in the most obvious way - is Christopher Nolan's Memento (from a short story by his brother Jonathan), and while that specific script may be the most analyzed previously of the batch featured here it's still worthwhile to revisit. Alongside that film and Elephant in a section labeled "Temporal Structures" (an introduction to each section would have been useful) is Tarantino's first feature - interestingly though not surprisingly, the majority of the scripts featured here are first films - Reservoir Dogs, which uses a flashback structure. We know even more clearly from QT's enthralling follow-up film, Pulp Fiction, how much he abhors "cinema's inherent linearity," Murphy quotes him as seeing his structure as following that of a novel, which go back and forth all the time, rather than call them flashbacks. Whatever you call it, Murphy argues that thescrambling of time gives the narrative greater complexity (and, take that Syd Field! who considers flashbacks "a dated technique.")

Other scripts featured in the book include Alison Anders' Gas Food Lodging, an interesting film that frankly could've benefited from more script focus - Murphy heads that chapter "Shifting Goals and Focus", which I'd argue was one of its problems, but, as the author points out, the film's strong female characterizations and Wim Wenders-ish storytelling make it more than worthwhile; the Coen Brothers' Fargo, which makes some interesting choices along the way (including not introducing the central protagonist until well into the story);  Todd Haynes' Safe, a fascinating film with a script that would be hard to teach to a screenwriting class; David Lynch's Mulholland Drive, which one could write a whole book about but Murphy does well to explain the film's dream logic (in fact, I'd recommend this chapter to anyone who watches that film and comes out of it, as many do, utterly baffled); and lastly Miranda July's recent debut feature Me You and Everyone We Know, which Murphy uses as a way to look at ensemble approaches to narrative, which that film did about as well in its sweeter, more low-key way as many of Robert Altman's key films.

All told, the book is a most useful approach to writers and filmmakers (often the same person, it should be noted, commonly a major difference between Hollywood films and independents) who broke the mold, the Syd Field model of the standard script paradigm, to bring their unique voices and visions to the screen via the written word - in many cases more the latter than one might initially have imagined.

The Braindead Megaphone

Even though I'll read anything by George Saunders - one of my favorite writers - I was fully prepared to be disappointed with his new collection of essays, The Braindead Megaphone, if only because I've been disappointed in collections like this before. Oh sure, just cobble together some random tidbits, scribblings, non-fiction musings, previously unpublished works (unpublished for a reason), package it into a book to satisfy said writer's desperate fan base. Well, this is not filler, and won't disappoint Saunders' fans. It may even win a few new converts. 

The pieces here have appeared in McSweeney's, The New Yorker, Slate, among many other places, and run the gamut to short, and true to Saunders, surreally hilarious little gems (an advice column written by "The Optimist" that turns increasingly out of control; a letter from an erudite canine to its owner, pleading for said owner to  please refrain from dancing naked to Purple Rain in front of him) - to longer, non-fiction pieces that maintain Saunders' trademark absurdist viewpoint (a look at the oddball exploding new city of Dubai; an American's view of England, which would qualify more as fiction, except it does capture perfectly the worst of both places and the American xenophobe's perspective). There are also Random Pieces  That We Like (as Saunders might put it), including a fine and amusing introduction to Huckleberry Finn of which Mark Twain would surely approve. The titular essay  is  a reflection on how the American way of holding debates seems to have denigrated into shouting at each other ("the people who used to ask, 'Is it news?' now seem to be asking, 'Will it stimulate?'")

The best essay in the whole collection, however, is "The Great Divider," which may be the single best piece of writing on the US-Mexico border debate I've yet to encounter. Saunders trekked down to Texas and parts west (and south) to interview, and follow around, those most intimately involved with illegal immigration - from Mexicans who've made it to the militia-like Minutemen who want to keep any more Mexicans from making it. Saunders displays his usual terrific sense of humor and also a sense of fairness in portraying all the viewpoints, even when he's upfront with his subjects about not only being a member of "the Media" but also an "East Coast Liberal" (which the Minutemen he hangs out with find fascinating). This piece, which originally appeared in GQ magazine, should be required reading for every American - the majority of whom, if I had to guess, are probably somewhere in the middle of this debate.

Saunders should be required reading in general, though part of me wishes he was still my little secret.

[More quickie book reviews coming soon]

A Letter from Michael Powell

In the front of the Faber and Faber published script for Powell and Pressburger's The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, before the screenplay itself, there is a series of fascinating letters from and to Powell about the film. Most of the letters are about the struggles to get it made, and in particular their battles with the British War Office; surprisingly to me, the film was quite controversial to many in the government as it was taken to be an affront or criticism of British morals (and morale?) during wartime.

At any rate, I highly recommend reading through this correspondence, which includes letters to and from Laurence Olivier - who was Powell's original choice for the protagonist who would ultimately be played wonderfully by Roger Livesey - and to actress Wendy Hiller. I found in particular the note to the latter to be quite amusing - and still inspiring and relevant.

An excerpt:

"I must first of all, because we still don't know each other well, reaffirm our responsibility as independent film makers.

One, we owe allegiance to nobody except the financial interests which provide our money; and to them the sole responsibility of ensuring a profit, not a loss.
Two, every single foot in our films is our own responsibility and nobody else's. We refuse to be guided or coerced by influence but our own judgement.
Three, when we start work on a new work we must be a year ahead, not only of our competitors but also of the times. A real film, from idea to universal release, takes a year. Or more. [Or in my case, 12 - ed.]
Four, no artist believes in escapism. And we secretly believe that no audience does. We have proved, at any rate, that they will pay to see truth, for other reasons than her nakedness.
Five, at any time, and particularly at the present, the self-respect of all collaborators, from star to prop-man, is sustained or diminished, by the theme and purpose of the film they are working on. They will fight or intrigue to work ona  subject they feel is urgent and contemporary, and fight equally hard to avoid working on a trivial or pointless subject. And we agree with them and want the best workmen with us; and get them. These are the main things we believe in. "

George Saunders Sighting

I had the great pleasure last night of hearing one of my favorite authors speak - George Saunders - and then, even better, to chat with him for a few delightful minutes - thanking him for helping inspire me to really push my work as I finished my thesis of stories recently - before he signed my copy of his new book, the brilliantly funny In Persuasian Nation. He autographed it with a silly doodle. I told him I'd just convinced a semi-tipsy guy (did I mention they were offering free beer?) why he should buy one of Saunders books. When asked to explain Saunders' writing, I said a few things about how he writes darkly funny stories satirizing American culture and the media, and so on, before finally coming to the conclusion, "You know what, just buy his books and read his work. It defies description."

In Persuasian Nation defies description in many ways, but it is definitely riotously funny. It's also, as with much of Saunders' work, disturbing. The titular story about advertising characters that battle for freedom from their cruel, repetitive existences is a pointed jab at the modern ad age and our own brainwashing by it. The lengthy, unforgettable story, "Brad Carrigan, American," [excerpt on Harper's]
which may be the best piece in the collection, takes aim at reality shows, and a parallel universe, or near-future, version of the sick world they've created - replete with talking, sympathetic corpses and fake Indian chiefs. Another story is a sci-fi-ish tale in which teens have lived their lives in a product testing "camp" that have to choose between that cushy, but unreal life, and the world outside the fence;  this, as with much of Saunders' best pieces, surprises the reader by being as poignant as it is humorous and disturbing.

But again, no point in describing his work. There is only this: Read it for yourself.

Escape Pod

I'm so proud. Madge's bear-rific short story Hibernation is now up as a podcast on Escape Pod, the science fiction podcast site. It's more of a comical fantasy story than sci-fi, but quite fun. Give it a listen and let her know what you thought.