The Prestige

I saw this film for the first time two weeks ago. The ending of this film completely took me by surprise which led to a big argument between my wife and I. The only resolution was to download the screenplay. Ok, she won the argument but I found a true gem of screenplay writing.

The Prestige is about two talented magicians Borden (Christian Bale) and Angier (Hugh Jackman) who are torn apart when a water tank escape-artist illusion goes terribly wrong resulting in the drowning of Angier’s wife. Tormented by his loss, Angier begins a deadly escalation of revenge between the two men believing that Borden’s incompetent knot tieing led to her death. Borden who is also distraught, tries to let matters lie until Angier begins to sabbotage Borden’s act, which results in Borden losing a finger. From this moment, all bets are off, as both men battle to out do one another on and off stage. The battle of rivalry is so fierce that both exact plans so deadly and conspiratorially that the viewer is one the who is constantly missing the trick.

The film is a dream to watch and most of this is down to Christopher Nolan’s apt direction and the screenplay deftly written by his brother Jonathan Nolan based on the novel by Christopher Priest. With a great supporting cast of Michael Caine (Cutter) and Scarlat Johannson (Olivia) they give the film a naturalistic and balanced perspective during the sparring of the magicians.

The screenplay is told through the journal of Robert Angier, which is being read by Borden who was convicted of murdering Angier – by drowning him in a watertank. The story is well plotted (there are some loop holes in the logic!) and it is the tricks that the screenplay / film play on the viewer that is most satisfying once you realise that what you’ve been watching is actually some great trick  – this is punctuated by the opening page:

The story will flit seamlessly between the events taking place to Borden (i.e. him being in Jail, the trial) and the reading of the journal and Tangier’s quest to unlock the secret of Borden’s illusion “The Transported Man”

The other great example of this is while Borden is readuing Angier’s journal in Jail, Angier is actually reading Borden’s journal which he writes about. This confusion all becomes apparant later when we learn that during their battles, Angier actually stole Borden’s journal and he is deciphering it with a codeword – again that we wil learn later about. There is a very good use of foreshadowing as the audience is forced to ask inner questions and maintain the different threads – or keep the spinning plates spinning!

How would we describe magic tricks in a screenplay? Read this and tell me whether you visually see what is going on. I think it’s been done very well.

I thoroughly enjoyed the screenplay and there were some nice mechanics on the efficient use of screenwriting that I’ve certainly learnt.

For those that are interested I’ve attached the screenplay – note that Jonathan Nolan forgot to spell check this draft, which is very satisfying to know that not of all us writers are perfect!

Prestige

Where am I going with this story?

The more I try to think about generating a story the more difficult and frustrating this whole process is becoming for me.  It makes me crazy that I can’t yet think of a story to write about. I’ve done quite a bit of research, taken the photographs, immersed myself in the stadium atmosphere yet I feel so empty and devoid of a story to tell that it’s quite upsetting and depressing. In some ways I feel like a complete failure and maybe I’ve set the bar too high and that actually, maybe I am a writer who has run dry of ideas of his own.

There I’ve said it. I’ve done what I hoped I would never do. And that is tell the world I’m crap. Writing is always such a frustrating process for me because unlike other people, writing comes to me in drips and drabs. It’s never ever flowing. It’s always really really hard work.

Looking back over my notes I wrote that Emirates stadium was like a gladitorial environment. Week in and week out the stadium would swell to capacity with its hordes of supporting Arsenal and the minority away team. The songs that the Arsenal supporters sing en-masse are akin to a National Anthem which energises the supporters in a mad frenzy. Weekend games are so important. It’s that time when all the supporters have been waiting all week for their dose of intravenous football. The blood pumping, the snarls made when the opposite team foul one of our players, the lift-off the seats as Arsenal score a goal. This is football like you never see on television. This is the hardcore version with the supporters letting rip how they really feel.

I’m always asking myself who are the characters that will be borne from this reasearch? I know that I have a father and son and this is some form of passing the mantle (or rites of passage) between father and son. But who else? Of course there are the fans,. These are the people that come in week and week out, and they are willing to spend between £40-£110 per ticket, or if their a season ticket holder they could be spending between £1k – £2k per year, or premier seating between £2k-3k, or for those that have bottomless pockets they would pay £100k in which they get their own private area, access to the private members bar, an underground car parking space and 3 years season ticket use. Can we say that clubs like Arsenal are actually manufacturing or exacerbating the great divide between those that can afford, against those that cannot? Football clubs are not built and maintained by executives – who are only the few. They are buit by the supporters who have for generations supported the club. What happens to those that for generations love this club, but have a hard time paying money to see their team? What does that say about the stadium that on one hand needs to swell itself each week, but for some the price of being part of that swell is beyond their means?. Is this what football is all about? Not just about the game but the division between those that can attend, and those that cannot?

As the characters are to be borne from the stadium, the characters will need to personify the stadium. Is the stadium a means of how we blood our young – especially in the context of passing the mantle? There is something very profound about this as it links it very nicely to what I observed during the Members’ Day, and obviously the matches themselves. The Dandelions also hold an important motiff to me but I can’t seem to figure that out – at the moment. Still not sure what the story is about…

The key to my story must be rooted in impressionism. If you think about it, Impressionism is rendering of natural life as it happens around you. For the great Impressionistic painters of our time like Renoir, Monet, Degas, Van Gogh etc to really look around them and capture the world as they saw in all its raw natural beauty. I think about directors like Ken Roach who embraced impressionism in films like ‘Kes’. And, maybe instead of feeling scared that I don’t have an idea for a film I need to relax a little bit and think about what I have occrued to date from my oberservations and perhaps think a little more deeply about what I’ve actually observed and processed.  When I think of the great painters, or directors did they simply sit down and think what they’re doing is a masterpiece, or was it simply about doing it and doing it well because they had an infinity to their subject? Maybe that’s my problem. I’m trying to create an award winning masterpiece, and I’m not giving myself space or time to breathe and think about what I’ve observed and processed and use that information to base my story idea upon.

I’m very weary about the story that I select doesn’t just come from the mind, but is directly drawn from my observations. I recently read an interview with Syd Field on the publication of a new edition of  his screenwriter books. He mentioned his collaboration with Jean Renoir (son of Pierre August Renoir). He stated if you try to draw a leaf from imagination,  you will only ever draw a particular type of leaf. But, if you draw a leaf from looking at it in its natural environment you will have hundreds of leaves to chose from. Now, looking at this assignment it does become a scary assignment because I am really afraid of selecting the wrong story. I love the process of writing, but the actual lift-off into writing is fraught with despair. I worry about the authenticity of what I intend to write as I want to make sure that my characters are derived from the stadium and not simply from my mind.

When I question myself about my feelings of authenticity I do feel very unsettled, anxious and despair. On one hand, I’m trying to fit in everything that is academically required from me (from reading the Unit materials) and then trying to think how I can fit this into a very artistic piece simply worries me. I worry about authenticity, because I’m scared of chosing a story that people will read and not believe it came from my observations. For me, this would be heart breaking as I would have spent effort and time in the writing only to be told that what I’ve written is too much from the mind and not from direct obsevervations. I suppose the closest this is to the real world is gaining a commission, then writing something that was totally outside of the requirement scope.

I want to be authentic. I don’t want to shoe-horn a story into my observations. I don’t want to write about football itself. I want to write about those that frequent the games to watch football. It’s the people that I want to care about. Its those their lives, their time, their money, their sacrifices they make seeing the games week in, week out. People who goto football matches make great personal sacrifices to do so, especially if they see home and away matches. That is sacrifice from a timing perspective and a monetary perspective – I remember at the members’ day I met a man with his two young boys who had spent over £100 to buy the latest away kit. He wasn’t too happy about the money but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make for his children. It’s really interesting about the sacrifices people make to go and watch the games. I personally could not go and see every game because of the expense and the timing of the games. A boundary would have to be set, as seeing all the games would disrupt my weekends with my family. But I wonder if those people that come to the games, if any of those didn’t have any boundaries? If coming to the games was the ultimate sacrifice they were making, at what expense to their lives was this costing? Is the money people are spending to goto the games being used from a pot of money reserved for other things, like a food on the table, travel money, paying the rent, paying a loan shark, paying debts off, paying for medication? If money is being used elsewhere to fund the football games, how is the quality of life being decreased? And as it decreases, does it enrage the spectator when they witness their team doing badly? How does it affect them? This is quite important from an observational reasearch basis, because there are times when the crowd are hurling such vitriolic abuse that it does make you turn around and want to face and name the shamed.

I need a cup of tea…..

National Gallery

After a tough day working on all sorts of different problems for work, my wife asked if I wanted to meet her at the National Gallery. Of course I said ‘Yes’ as I know it stays open late until 9pm – and it’s free!

I only had one mission in mind, after saying hello to the missus, once I got there. I wanted to spend the next 2 hours bathing myself in front of all the Impressionistic masters.

Rooms 45, 44 & 43 were to be my research focussing on 18th – early 20th century paintings. Let me start off with Van Gogh’s Sunflowers – information about the painting and picture can be found at: http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/vincent-van-gogh-sunflowers

I’ve most probably seen this painting a few times but today I was admiring this from the perspective of a writer/artist. Its difficult to discern if this was actually a painting, or whether it had been carved out of oil. On closer inspection you can see the thickness in the oils giving different parts of the sunflower its gloss and matte look. Looking at the dying flowers, it actually looked like real seed heads that had been pushed into the painting. I admired this painting from close up, focussing on the brush strokes. Then, pulling back and looking at the picture as a whole.  Those tiny brush strokes, intimate and precise represent the words that we carefully chose to express a scene. Then by pulling back and viewing the picture as a whole, I began to think about how sentances are read from an objective viewpoin. The choice of words, the order of words to construct succinct sentences.

Whether a painting is small or large, I always wonder where is the starting point for a such a painting? Whilst I was wondering around I came across this beautiful lady staring across at me. She had a slight sadness to her as she stood transfixed looking at me. A gentlemen to her right was holding an umbrella over her but she seemed only interested in me. To her left stood a little girl of around 5 years old with streaks of blond protruding from her bouffant style hat. An innocence captured so beautifully. What I descibe could be reality but it was Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s painting of ‘The Umbrella’. Never have I been so swept off my feet by looking at such majestical beauty of a painting. To look at this woman staring wherever you walk is so intense. Her head slightly cocked to one side, she’s almost enticing you to stop and look at her. Sitting on her arm is a basket and both hands appear to be slightly holding up her long dress. Was she looking at me, or in fact was I looking at her? Who was the painting and who was the observer?

I stood in rapture watching not being able to take my eyes of this painting. There are bowler hatted men walking in the background armed with their umbrella’s, the scene is illustrated like that of a photograph with the ends of the painting clipped – to depict real like in motion.

I saw many paintings by Monet, Van Gogh, Pissaro, Degas but it was Renoir’s painting of ‘The Umbrella’ which was breathtaking. I’ve never stopped to look at a painting and realise that I’m so calm and into what I’m looking at that my breathing comes so slow and very shallow. It’s almost as if in my mind I’m trying to find that door into the painting. I can hear the rain falling and the bustling of people, yet it is that woman who looks at me with a hint of sadness who is the only one not covered. Her red hair reflecting the intensity of what ever little light is left on that cloudy day.

An incredible painting. Even more inredible is that it is a painting that depicts an everyday occurance that we would never think twice about – people going about their way in rain.

No matter what we chose to write about, the choice of words and their construction to create the illusion of reality will be the difficult task that awaits me for the observational research.

If anyone is interested here is the painting, but it’s so much better in the flesh.

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/pierre-auguste-renoir-the-umbrellas

Observational Research – Arsenal vs Blackpool

It was a fantastic day out that was rounded off when Arsenal beat Blackpool by 6-0! Okay, its Blackpool first foray into the Premier League but they did pose some problems by probing our defence which still is quite leaky. I was able to take some interesting photos – like the one above .

As I came out of Arsenal tube station and onto Gillespie Road, the street was awash with Red shirts with white sleeves.  As I walked down, some of the residents opened up small stalls selling T-shirts and other memorabilia. Ticket touts formed a defensive barricade, standing still like statues quietly asking fans as they walked past them if they had any tickets to sell. It was a full house for today’s game and I would be very surprised if anyone wanted to sell their tickets for the first home game for the 2010/2011 season.

As I entered the stadia perimeter people were milling around. Some on mobile phones chatting, others taking lone pictures of the stadia, whilst many were trying to cue their loved ones against the backdrop of the stadium to wait for a break in the swirling crowd to take that single shot without other people strolling into the picture.

I swiped my card and entered the stadium making my way up to the upper tier. On my journey up the stairs, a father was attempting to make idle conversation with his son, who seemed slightly overweight and disinterested in the ramblings of his dad. The father was reviewing the paper tickets and conversed to his son that he believed they had good seats. The son’s only response was “I hope so.” But his manner was dismissive, almost as if he really did not want his dad to be there. As he walked up the stairs, he was wearing the latest home kit including the purple Nike football trainers. Emblazoned on the back of his shirt was the number 4; above it read “Gooner”, and below it read “Life” – Gooner 4 Life. It got me me thinking about my story and how interesting it would be to feed this into the dynamic between father and child. As I was observing these two, I realised that the father was either being aloof, or he was overcompensating to ensure the child was going to have a good time. I find these dynamics between father and child quite disturbing because a parent should not have to appease their child, especially when taking them to a football match. It’s incredible that in today’s age the children seem to have more power or the ability to exert more influence on their parents than the other way around. Is it because this child is spoilt, has a troubled background, simply bored or is their homelife dysfunctional such that the neccessity to have the latest football kit and the best seats is a measure for the father to overcompensate due to the lack of emotional connection between him and his child?

I took my seat and looked to see several elderly people walking up the concrete steps to their designated row. Some could only walk one step at a time. They made it eventually to their seat and you could understand why they came early, just to master the steep staircase.

It wasn’t long before the massive LCD screens exploded into life with Arsenal TV depicting excerpts of their past classic victories stitched together into an elegant footage with dramatic music to incite an emotional response from the fans. The music then changed tempo and the discreet roving camera was activated. Audience members’ faces were then projected live onto the screen – immortalised for only a few seconds before the camera switches to another unsuspecting fan.  A fan appeared so bored when his face was shown on the big screen, some patted the Arsenal logo on their chest as a Roman would do when saluting Caeser; others simply smiled or waved.

As people began to take their seats, the smell of stadia food – hot dogs and cheese burgers – wafted and envelop us. That single smell causes a biological trigger to want a burger and with still some time before kick-off I decided against putting that into my system.  My ears were inundated with the latest pop tunes blasting from the PA system. The tunes were all happy ones to get the fans into the mood – it’s dance music you would expect to hear in a club.

Just before the game kicked off, Arsenal unveiled the naming of its stands with great fanfare and the re-inroduction of the famous replica clock which stood at Highbury under then manager Hertbert Chapman in the 30’s. The crowd were ecstatic that Emirates was now beginning its process of Arsenalisation – a process by which the legacy of Arsenal is to be imprinted into the uber-cool stadium. This is not merely a stadium, but a museum hailing the great Arsenal legacy and taking the best of yesterday and fusing that into the uber-cool stadium of today.

Trying to watch a football game whilst taking the odd picture and mental notes is fraught with immense difficulty because at some point something has to give. In the enjoyment of the game I had to just park my Observational Research hat and get into the ebb and flow of the ensuing game. What is marvellous to note is only in a stadium do 60,000 people shown any sign of empathy. Arsenal missed five good opportunities to score goals and in each missed opportunity the 60k crowd howled their indignation. Some even took the mantle to verbalise their feelings with a mixture of comedic and vulgar language which certainly brought chuckles to us in the upper tier.

It’s interesting to note that the terraces of football stadiums are awash with discussions and opinions painted in the emotional overtones that succinctly express how the majority feelings – but are perhaps to introverted or afraid to speak their minds. The constant barrage of shouts and intimidation inflicted at the opposing team are mostly for the punters sitting in the upper tier as I doubt the Seasiders (Blackpool) could hear any of the diatribe from the pitch. Looking around you can see that attending a football game is not just a rite of passage for some, but it’s the indoctrination of the way to handle language in its most cruel and vulgar form as an instrument of attack to be hurled like a pot of blazing oil to the opposing team. Is it warfare conducted by the power of extreme contorted facial expressions spewing the bile of intense foreboding language that is indoctrinated into the young who will carry the mantle into the next generation? Has society become so wrapped in cotton wool that attending matches is the only outlet for us humans to express a sincere desire to win? By exposing children to this type of warfare, are saying that in general it’s incorrect to behave in such a manner outside a football, but it’s tolerable inside? If I look at my story, does this child begin to exhibit this persona – i.e. is the child slowly changing as it begins to adapt to the nature of the spectator and in doing so is able to come to terms with a damaging secret? Or does the child use this persona change as a weapon to remonstrate with its father over the lack of emotional connectivity? There is something deep and profound that a football game evokes in all us, that it may not necessarily change us but it could free our ability to become more expressive and with that it may begin to break down barriers. I’ve noticed myself that what I’ve just written is a dichotomy and I suppose that is life.

An image that featured very strongly in my mind is when Arsenal scored a goal. Rows upon rows of people packed tightly in their seats. A ball is directed into the opposing teams’ goal and suddenly in slow motion, rows upon rows of people stand to attention. The flip-up seats in a row stand up to attention as people lift off from their seats. The furious roar of the stadium explodes in ecstasy as the ball penetrates the inside of the net. Hands out stretched, clapping, waving, finger pointing, as the crowd leap off their seats and jump in unison. Only to then wave their attention at the ineptitude opposing team where jolly banter is inflicted upon them.

As the game was ending I noticed hordes of Arenal fans who were making their exit. Some trapped in the middle of a long row would suddenly see a person after person getting up to let the early bird exit the row. Some were actually leaving moments before the last goal was scored. I always wonder people leave a stadium so early on Saturday game. It’s not as if it’s a school night and they have to beat the traffic and get to bed in order to have a good night’s sleep.

I just remembered that before the first half ended a middle-aged man turned up for the game. I noticed he was season ticket holder as he held a Gold Card which has your seat number and location printed on the rear of the card. Unfortunately, he was seated 30-40 seats into the row and could barely see his seat. Therefore, he decidede to sit on the concrete steps next to his allocated row. A steward approached him and asked him not to sit there for health and safety reasons, but after he showed his card she understood his predicament and left him to it. How can you be this late for a game?

I sat in the stadium for around 12 – 15 minutes watching the numbers slowly disperse the stadium. The east stand (situated opposite us) slowly began to reveal the white gunners logo that was hidden behind the seated individuals and it wasn’t long before the stadium had emptied out. All that was left was a few stragglers watching the game highlights on the big screen and Stadium would now sleep for another 2-3 weeks before it would host another big game. The stadium is like a animal feasting on a huge meal in which it will takes weeks for it to digest before attempting to feed again. Is Emirates a Tiger, or is it an Anaconda in the way it feeds? While Emirates digests its win, the supporters where all hanging outside taking the obligatory photos of the stadium.

The opposing supporters talking and shaking hands with some Arsenal fans, while many were down on the concourse doing some last minute Arsenal shopping for items.

This was my first time hanging around the stadium after the game and it was interesting to see the diversity of people that attend football matches. I also noticed a line of fans queuing outside the underground car park armed with their cameras waiting to take a picture of the Arsenal team as they drive home.

At this point, this was my cue to also head off home.

Included are some videos taken during the match:

Players warming up.

Start of the Match.

End of the Match.

Handling the great expectation

I have odd dreams. I suppose we all do. Sometimes I dream that I’m in a rock band and I get up on stage to play Bass guitar (which I used to play back in Uni), only to find out that I can’t strum a single note! And, the whole band are looking at me thinging WTF, while I look out to the crowd and see that everyone has left! Or walking onto a pitch thinking I’m a professional footballer, only to find out that I can’t even kick a ball – which is actually true.

Handling the great expection that everyone has of you must be a serious dent to one’s confidence. How long can someone remain seated on a pedestal high above everyone else before you are knocked over and someone else takes your limelight? Each week we watch football games hoping, praying that our team wins.  But, sometimes members’ of team commit howlers that make you want to scream with shame.

During the stadium tour, we were given the opportunity to walk through the players’ tunnel and onto the pitchside (we were not allowed to set one foot on the pitch). It’s an incredible walk because you are surrounded in this halo red coccon. Walking down you can imagine what the players could be feeling. For me it was excitement (as I was a tourist), but reflecting on my dreams it was quite discomforting. Everyone outside cheering you on, only to find by the second half they could be spitting your name in blood and booing at your inability to feed the crowds their weekend dose of adrenaline-fuelled wins.

As I write and review my notes that day, I certainly fely very different emotions as to where I was located at the stadium that day. From looking at the pitch from the Directors’ Box there was a sense of elevated objectiveness. But then as we walked into the private warrens of the players’ inner sanctity the perception and emotional values to change to imagining what it’s like being here. I felt almost at times empathetic and to handle that kind of pressure on a weekly basis is not something I could live up to, regardless of the money they throw at you. They are actors in a play which has no script. They must fend for themselves at the mercy of the crowd, for we are the Gods looking down at the pathetic mortals who must win our hearts for that day.

Going back to my story. Has the daughter done something so bad that the expectation of her has entered freefall to such a low and possibly dangerous point? Is the father her only lifeline to bring her back to normality before something terrible happens to her? Could be.

Psychology – It’s a game of two halves

To see the players changing rooms might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but you have to admit this is most probably the second most important place during a football match. The place where the players may vent at one another, or where tactics are rethought or simply a place where the players are elated or downright sobre.

Apparently, Arsene Wenger was responsible for the design layout of the players changing area. Unlike most clubs, Arsenal’s area is shaped in a horseshoe and in the centre they have a low table which sits all the sports drinks. However, in the visiting team’s changing area their table sits quite high such that when the players are sat down they can’t see one another across the table because it sits quite high and it’s pilled of sports drinks. This is an added psychology to wind the players up. Imagine, the opposing team are having an awful game. They come back and sit down but as someone opposite is talking, the player can’t see that person so they have to stand up – which affects the psychology of the players because they should be resting.

You look at buildings and you don’t tend to think about the psychology of how one feels being inside it. It’s quite amazing that a simple changing room can be designed to induce a psychological change in someone. Which takes me back to my story. I know this will be a about a father and son, or his daughter. But the question is why is it so important for this father to take his kid to the football? Is it because football games are actually rites of passages for sons and daughters to be better acquainted with their parents – something that has gone on for generations – or is it a case whereby the parents are handing the mantle of football supportership down to their children?

This is an interesting piece of psychology because had this been 15-20 years ago, no one in the right mind would take their children to a football game. I certainly never went to a game because of the violence and racist attitudes in those days. But today, we live in a different society that is more tolerant and open to the diverse Londoners that inhabit our city.

But to get back to the story, I am intrigued about this dynamic. And, instead of writing a rites of passage story I seem to want to dig deeper as to rationale why this father is taking their child to see a game? Now, the most obvious choices come to my mind such as: Parents are going through a divorce and the father is about to lose custody of his child so attends the last few games of the season before the mother moves town. Sounds interesting, but writing this kind of story doesn’t really set my mind on fire and becomes a piece of kitchen-sink / social drama – which is not bad but is not the angle I want to pursue to push my writing.

Sometimes the best stories are those which focus on the relationships. In this case, secrets are always so very interesting to explore. I had this fascinating idea that maybe the story is about a Father and Daughter, and the football games represent the connection between the two. – i.e. they are both battling to win.  I won’t go into detail about my proposed story because as a writer I don’t want to share too much with the outside world about the genesis of my ideas, but I do like the concept of a secret that needs to be extracted in order to understand some catastrophic event that occured. Most people would use a couch and a psychiatrist, but it would be interesting to set such a revelation about an incident at a football match. And that revelation would then bring the Father and daughter closer together. Maybe?

The Glorious Pitch

The tour started at 11am and we were ushered around the stadia by Eddie Kelly. A charming Scot in his late 50’s who played for Arsenal in the early 70’s. He scored the equalizer as a substitute against Liverpool in the 1971 FA Cup Final – the year I was born!

What I found fascinating about this chap, and the others ex-players who also chaperone the tours, is their love for this club. Arsenal has had quite a bashing over the last few years about the fact it’s an English club owned by different nationalities and our squad fields very little English players. Yet look around and the Stadium fascade tells a very different story and here’s Eddie giving us his impressive footballing career when he was with Arsenal.

I began thinking who is my character, is it an ex-footballer? Someone who yearns for their past? Someone who was in the public eye then, but is now nothing more than an ordinary person today. I don’t know. The more I kept thinking about this the more I realised that it was not fitting to have someone yearn about their past as the stadia is about today and now. It’s about glory. Maybe pain, maybe even suffering. But it’s about letting yourself go in the only safe environment in which you can vent your spleen (within reason) with anger, passion and hilarious insults.

We were taken to the Directors Box in which the first thing that hit my senses was the smell of freshly cut grass. It was so overwhelming that it reminded me when I was a kid and my Dad would cut the grass with one of those manual push lawn-mowers with rotating blades.

The pitch at Emirates is considered one of the best playing surfaces in the world and is constantly monitores on a 24/7 basis all year round. The grass seeds are imported from Holland, and they have a pitch drainage system that is totally automated – no expense is spared.

Sitting in the Director’s Box looking out at the centre pitch you are dumb-struck by the sheer size of this stadium.  But it was the smell of the grass that totally consumed my senses. To look at this manicured pitch, sweltering under the hot sun with automated sprinklers periscoping up and dispersing water and then retracting into the underground orrifices was almost science fiction like.

Sitting there taking pictures it dawned on me that football is about a rite of passage between a father and son. My dad never took me to a football match and it was only until 2008 when I saw my first ever game in France – of all places – between England and France. Even when I cast my memory back to Member’s Day it was incredible to see the number of families who had attended that. I must admit, there is something very compelling about a father and son dynamic set in the realm of a football club. I can’t intellectualise why, but for some reason I felt a strong reasonance that this father-son dynamic is the compelling centre-point of a story. The question is whether the stadia will be immortalised in the father, or the son?

Tour of Arsenal Football Club – Emirates Stadium

Last Wednesday was my birthday.  I never work on my birthday. So I took the day off (approved of course!) and decided to treat myself and my best friend (whose 40th is upcoming) to a tour of Arsenal Football Club. Now, some of you maybe thinking that I’m using this as some kind of lame excuse to do all things Arsenal related and somehow shoehorn this into my project. The way I look at it, is if you’re going to do something you might as well enjoy yourself doing it.

On a serious note though, in order to better understand the ground – which I had described as a gladiatorial stadia – I wanted to get into the fabric of my surroundings and see the stadia from its internal machinations – something which not that many people see.

Also, to round off my research I plan to see Arsenal vs Blackpool on Saturday, 21st August in which I hope to capture the mood and feeling of watching a game surrounded by 60k fans – which of course will be blogged.

The Dark Knight – Screenplay

After reading and making notes on two classic British screenplays, I decided to turn my attention Christopher & Jonathan Nolan’s screenplay of ‘The Dark Knight.’ The film is famed for breaking box office records – 3 days US domestic pulling in over $155m, and the unfortunate death of Heath Ledger who went on to win a posthumous Oscar for his portrayal as the Joker.

I chose to read this script for two key reasons: It has a great story and the dialogue is terrific for an action-comic movie.  The script reads at a clip and you find yourself very quickly chomping through the high octane set-pieces.  The dialogue is never on the nose and the actions are sparsely written yet give clear indication what the characters’ motives are.

How the Dark Knight is going to help me in my Arsenal script is yet to be determined, but I felt compelled to read this because the relationships between all the characters are twisted. For example, Alfred warning Bruce that his actions have forced the criminals to seek solace in the Joker; Bruce and Rachel are like two flies dancing around a fire – never destined to be together; Dent who is willing to make a stand against the criminals and be the shining knight that batman can never be, and then we have the ongoing friendship between Gordon and Batman.

These individual binary relationships are not long lasting and at some point they will begin fracture. In this scene, Bruce has to be reminded of his own limitations after the Joker gatecrashed his fundraiser:

WAYNE
Targeting me won’t get their money back. I knew the mob wouldn’t go down without a fight, but this is different. They’ve crossed a line.

ALFRED
You crossed it first, sir. You’ve hammered them, squeezed them to the
point of desperation. And now, in their desperation they’ve turned to a
man they don’t fully understand.

Wayne gets up from his monitors, raises the bat-cabinet.

WAYNE
Criminals aren’t complicated, Alfred. We just have to figure out what he’s
after.

ALFRED
Respectfully, Master Wayne, perhaps this is a man you don’t fully understand, either.

Another really good example about the dichotomy of relationships is clearly shown towards the end after Batman has strung up the Joker :

THE JOKER
Just couldn’t let me go, could you? I guess this is what happens when an
unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You truly are incorruptible,
aren’t you?

Batman secures the Joker UPSIDE DOWN. The Joker is LAUGHING.

THE JOKER
You won’t kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness… and I won’t kill you because you’re too much fun. We’re going to do this forever.

The script / film contains some memorable scenes which I also think are very important, as the reader / viewer should always be left with some imprint of great scenes.  For me this is important because as a viewer / reader this is the first question I will always ask: What was your favourite scene? In the Dark Knight we have the prologue – the bank scene, Joker and the vanishing pencil, Batman abducting Lau from Hong Kong etc. One of my favourite scenes is when he kills Gambol (who has ordered a hit on Joker- dead or alive) and opens a position for Gambol’s men to join him:

The Joker FLICKS his wrist- the Body Guards flinch as Gambol goes down.  The Joker turns to them.

THE JOKER
Now, our organization is small, but we’ve got a lot of potential for aggressive expansion… so which of you fine gentlemen would like to join our team?

The three bodyguards all nod. The Joker SNAPS a pool cue.

THE JOKER
Only one slot open right now- so we’re going to have try-outs.

The Joker drops the broken cue in the middle of the men.

THE JOKER
Make it fast.

The men stare at each other. Then at the jagged pool cue.

The main reason why I wanted to read and briefly blog about this script is the difference in script styles. Whilst the observational research module is very focussed on creating characters/stories from our chosen arena, I can’t help but think about dialogue. Because for me, whilst I’m aware that writing visually is so important I don’t want to get too sucked into the whole art nonsense where I forego dialogue. As a writer, I want to write visually but not at the expense of the story. What I mean by this, is that I don’t want to labour the reader / viewer with too much visual and constantly make them figure out the story because it’s mentally draining for me and not my cup of tea!

Dangerous Liaisons – Christopher Hampton

I decided last night that I would sit down and read Dangerous Liaisons in its entirety in one sitting. An hour and 20 minutes later I can only say that Christopher Hampton truly deserved to win the Oscar for best adapted screenplay – based on his play ‘Les liaisons dangereuses’. In this blog I will refer to excerpts from Christopher’s script – therefore the assumption is that you have either seen the film, or read the script. These excerpts are areas that I myself want to learn and improve upon in my own writing.

The screenplay has all the elements which appeal to me:  The world and its setting is introduced in the first 2 pages; the characterization and dialogue are aptly written; the scenes move effortlessly and the visual description is succinct.

The first 3 pages introduce us to the world and in particular Madame de Merteuil (Glenn Close) and Vicomte de Valmont (John Malkovich).

One of the things I love about this script is the dangerous and witty dialogue that Christopher has injected. In one scene, Merteuil is entertaining Volanges and her beautiful but naive daughter, Cecile, when Valmont is announced. Volanges is alarmed to hear this news:

The script is littered with sexual references and more so as this is a film about the power of sex and its salacious grip upon women – who are not so subjugated as we are meant to believe during this period.

The threading of the scenes between characters who are at different locations is expertly handled. As a writer, how would we handle scenes in which our main character writes letters to his supposed loved one? Do we see him writing, sending the letter off, and it arrives all done within a montage – something I personally detest in screenplays? Or do we simply merge the scenes into a seamless thread. In this scene, Valmont is in post coital and is writing a letter to Madam Tourvel (the pious woman who we must seduce):

Notice how elegantly we move from Valmont writing the letter to Tourvel who is reading the letter aloud. It’s great method to demonstrate the spatial difference without having to slow the story down.

Another great example of impressionistic writing, is how to deal with people looking at one another and to describe externally how they are feeling.  This excerpt is full of feeling and betrayal when Valmont who is seated next to Merteuil at the Opera is caught looking at Madam Tourvel:

This section is elegantly written and you can feel the swathes of emotion that are exhibited by all three characters in synchronicity with the emotional peaks and troughs of the ensuing Opera.

This is another great example of British Writing that exhibits Impressionistic writing that I want to develop in my own writing.