Resurrection

This isn't a post about worldbuilding — but there will be more of those.

This is a post about the failure of art.  I once sat in on a film class years ago, because it used the same room as my Roman history course that came after ... and hey, I can write anywhere.  I knew the prof from several interviews I'd taken for the university newspaper the year before, when I was also writing reviews of the university drama department's performances.  He and I would have coffee occasionally, disagree with each other a lot and respect boundaries.  I was allowed to sit in his class, so long as I didn't participate.

He used to tell his students remorselessly that screenwriting was about hitting marks.  10 minutes in, the protagonist gets kidnapped.  30 minutes in and the protagonist meets the bad guy face to face.  37 minutes and the murdered girl's sister shows up.  That kind of thing.

I don't like this sort of writing; but I don't write screenplays, either.  In any case, a writer's got to have some idea of just how much dry oats the audience will eat before they're given a drink of water.  And how long it will be, again, before their mouths get dry.  Virtually everyone in the industry knows that if you can't hit these moments precisely, you have no fucking business thinking you're a screenwriter.  I say "virtually" because there's one class that don't have to play by the rules.

Recently, encouraged to do so, I saw Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, from 2019.  I'm not going to say much; on the whole, Tarantino is a garbage director who over-embellishes cheesy pulp plots, catering to a congregation I don't have much use for.  Apologies to any of my supporters who feel that the sun rises and sets on Tarantino's work, and are rushing to remove themselves from my Patreon right now.  Let me help you.  'Course, if any readers out there don't support me and agree with me about Tarantino, throw me a buck or two.  I'm just your writing monkey.

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood hits no beats whatsoever.  I didn't find it a bad film.  I rather enjoyed it.  Not for the story or the characters, they were trash.  But because the film's setting and timeliness contained elements that roused memories of mine that were long forgotten.  There's a scene in the film when the sun is setting, and a montage of restaurants turning on their lights (1970 being a time when the lights were not left on day and night), producing a sudden, deep rising electrical thrum.  I remember the sound of that thrum.  It was dead on accurate.  Very cool.

To pull out another example, I also recently saw The Ballad of Buster Scruggs.  This odd film from 2018 is written and directed by the Coen Bros.  And then almost never hit their beats ... at least, not in the traditional order.  I don't care, personally.  Whatever they wanna do, I'll sit and watch it.  

I enjoyed the film, especially the first half.  There are parts I'll watch again.  There are parts I don't care if I ever watch again, and I couldn't honestly encourage others to watch.  The film comprises six stories.  1, 3 and 4 did fine by me.  2 was meh; 5 took a while to digest, but I found peace with it.  6?  Well ... no.  Not for me.  Too clever-clever.

My point is that films don't need to conform to specific rules and principles of writing ... but the rules in general should stand most of the time, because of what happens when talentless hacks ignore them.  And how much worse it is when talentless hacks manage to glom together 190 million dollars, so they can piss it all away.

Now, I'm going to put up some spoilers.  It won't matter that I warn you, because you're going to keep reading anyway, but it's considered impolite not to warn about spoilers when including them.  These spoilers will apply to two different films.  I will keep the spoilers as vague and indefinite as possible; and all spoilers apply only to the first 52 minutes and 50 seconds of each film, including the opening logos and credits.  One of these films was released in 1999.  The other, in December 2021.

I won't comment excessively on whether or not I liked the films, though as regards the more recent one, I stopped watching at 52 minutes and 50 seconds.  I don't give a fuck what happens after that, because I watched the first slightly less than 53 minutes.  I don't need to see more.  In any case, what follows are two timelines, comparing film A to film B, in terms of what happens when.

We'll start with the later film, film B.

11:46.  The new Morpheus reveals himself as Morpheus.

15:44.  The co-worker whose name I don't care about is sitting at the coffee bar with Thomas Anderson and sees Trinity, or rather, "Tiffany."

20:52.  Thomas Anderson finishes talking to his boss, Smith, and starts talking to his analyst, "The Analyst."

25:35.  While Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane sings White Rabbit, Thomas Anderson eats steak.

30:03.  Thomas Anderson talks to "Tiffany" about her kids and motorcycles.

31:47.  Thomas Anderson meets the new Morpheus in the bathroom; an immaterial action scene follows.

37:54.  Thomas Anderson talks with his analyst again.

40:39.  Thomas Anderson moves to step off his roof and is super-predictably stopped by Bugs.

46:33.  Thomas Anderson is shown the red pill.

52:50.  Neo is welcomed to the "real world."

Film A.

11:46.  Trinity tells Neo that "the answer is out there" at the club.

15:44.  Morpheus tells Neo that "there are two ways out of this building" over the phone.

20:52.  With his mouth melded shut, Neo is thrown onto a table by two "agents."

25:35.  Before showing him into the room to meet Morpheus in the flesh, Trinity tells Neo to "be honest."

30:03.  Neo, having taken the red pill, is moved to the next room and seated next to a mirror; the others move about getting ready to recover Neo's body.

31:47.  The mirror is taking possession of Neo's hand.

37:54.  Morpheus shows Neo through the Nebuchadnezzar for the first time.

40:39.  Morpheus turns on the television in the construct loading program and tells Neo that he's seeing "the world at the end of the 20th century."

46:33.  Neo is waking up, having "popped" because he's unable to accept reality.

52:50.  While fighting Neo in the training program's dojo, Morpheus tells him, "Don't think you are; know you are."

Pacing.  It is all about pacing.