ATTENTION: New Site!

I'm officially breaking up with Blogger. Can't do it any more. This last time they threw me down the stairs and asked me to pretend I'd fallen off my bike was the last straw.

Until I can get my shit together and have someone build me a real big boy site, I'll be nursing my wounds over here.

Film Pigs Video Game Review Vlog -- Rock Band!

The Pigs climb out of the movie review ghetto to form the awesome band "Adult Diaper Party" and rock out to all your favorite hits, like "Black Hole Sun," "In Bloom," and "Todd's Got No Rhythm."

Say It To Me Now

I'm So Glad I'm Not In Film Studies

Aside from another story containing the words "Diablo" "blog" and "stripper," can you think of a more tired, exhausting subject for an article about the 2007 Oscar race? I imagine during the writing of this piece, Patrick Goldstein resting his head on his desk dejectedly and sighing, "Oh my god, I really should just shut the fuck up right now." And then opening up a file on his desktop entitled, "Screenplay" and staring at it for a few seconds before he hears his editor shuffling down the hall, and quickly closes Final Draft and goes back to torturing his thesis:

"Writers and directors tell stories for a thousand reasons, many of them too inchoate to ever be articulated. But it's increasingly plausible that today's filmmakers, living in a post-Sept. 11 world wracked by fear of terrorism, doubts about a bloody war in Iraq and concerns over U.S. involvement in torture, are responding to the spirit of the times."

At this point I'd kill for an article about Javier Bardem's haircut.


ETA: Well, a few articles down... there it is!



Oh Los Angeles Times. You never stop not disappointing me.

What The Strike Was Really For

So that instead of addressing the studio notes I have about 6 hours left to complete, I could have the freedom to surf the net and post five-year old Internet bits about rap. Thanks, WGA!

INTELLECTUALIZING RAP

New Film Pigs Alternate DVD Commentary -- Disturbia!

The Film Pigs just can't get enough of that charming Shia LaBeouf! This time he stars as an impulse-control challenged and slightly pervy teenager under house arrest in this modern take on Hitchcock's classic Rear Window. Major difference: Disturbia has a flaming bag of dogshit that is noticeably absent from Hitchcock's version. Not that you should read anything into that. Also, Grace Kelly has been replaced by a skinny teenage girl and an iPod. David Morse is, as always, extremely menacing. He frightens us. Somebody make him leave Shia and Dr. House alone.

So head over to Film Pigs Dot Com. We can also be podcast from iTunes. Search under "Comedy" to subscribe.

Pencils Up!

...with World's Worst Person, Strike Edition: Variety's Dave McNary!

Man, I'll miss ol' (and I do mean ol') Dave, for his slant, his shillitude, his outright lies, and his terrible prose. To wit, today:

"Some 92.5% of the 3,775 ballots cast were in favor of ending the 100-day strike, with 3,492 members voting yes and 283 die-hards ready to tilt at the windmill of continuing the work stoppage that began Nov. 5."

Tilt at the windmill of continuing the work stoppage...? Way to torture a sentence in effort to work in a Don Quixote reference that doesn't even make sense in the made-up fictional old-tymey context Dave's invented here. The strike's over, old man. Your work is done. Or rather, your big pen o' hack can now be pointed towards SAG.

During certain cold mornings on the picket line I entertained myself with thoughts of Cynthia Littleton -- a normally quite readable entertainment journalist and someone forced to often share bylines on strike stories with McNary -- and Dave working late on another hatchet job on the WGA, Chinese food congealing in open containers on their desks. It's midnight and only the janitor is still around, shutting off lights as he mops. They've been fighting over whether to have an "insider" call Patric Verrone "smug and militant," or "dangerous and untested," when the fraying nerves, the close quarters, and the MSG get the better of them and Cynthia grabs Dave's ancient brittle bones and pounces on him, and they slide to the ground in a dizzying cloud of Ben Gay, Chanel No. 5, and discarded journalistic integrity.

As for what happens to me now, the picture is not yet 100% clear. Today is the first day I can talk to the other side my entertainment partners and we can assess where we are. I'm in various places on four very different television pilot scripts for four very different networks & studios -- some are written and awaiting greenlight (or death), some are not yet written and I now have to see where they fit into this foreshortened and rushed pilot season.

I would have liked to have gotten more done during the strike, but something just did not permit it. I would like to have emerged from the strike with some new perspective or framing of priorities, or at least another completed novel, but I do not have that. I have 30 pretty good pages of a feature spec, a deepened respect for my fellow writers, a keen awareness of the difficulties the labor movement faces in this country, a confirmed suspicion for the media, and a handful of new friends. Not bad, all told.

Now back to work.

Film Pigs Movie Review Vlog -- Rambo / Cloverfield

Rambo makes the Film Pigs' dreary day a little brighter with extreme gun/bomb/arrow/fist/and pig-on-man violence. But Cloverfield just makes them angry again.