Monthly Archives: November 2006

When a job is more than a job…

  • Reading time:5 mins read

So JNT didn’t have a strong creative vision guiding him. Well, sure; that’s obvious, considering where the show went (or didn’t) during the ’80s, until Cartmel came around. In that sense his approach — being so hands-off — was significant. So were his ideas about casting, his ideas about presentation, his ideas about continuity, his feel for showmanship, the way he tried to spin the show for various groups (in particular the increasing fanbase and the BBC management). There’s a pretty good story to be told here, and it needn’t be altogether negative. If anything, there’s more drama here than in most earlier periods.

As with any other era, the way JNT handled the show (or didn’t!) clearly led to the way it turned out and was ultimately perceived. It’s the mechanics of this that it would be enlightening to see illustrated, especially in contrast to other production eras.

I mean, even this discussion right here has made some connections in my brain that I hadn’t made before. Yeah, of course; JNT didn’t pay much attention to the creative ins and outs, did he — though he had some vague and shaky concept of a “big picture” he wanted for the show, and he had a few arbitrary things he felt he wanted to see. That would explain why it kind of went in circles, and why it kept referring to the past so much instead of moving forward. And why he made so many apparently odd demands. And why it was so terribly uneven, jumping from brillant to questionable to conservative to oddly progressive. And it would also explain why Cartmel was able to have so much influence when he came aboard, as there were no real creative conflicts (aside from JNT’s random specific demands). The show was just something to produce, with certain production concerns, according to a form he was familiar with.

Everyone was looking to the producer as a creative force, a guiding spirit for the show — and he was just expecting everyone else to get on with their creative work, while he paid attention to the mechanics of getting the show made and selling it to his bosses, the fans, and the general audience. After season 18 and until the McCoy era, no one was really driving. The real problem in the ’80s seems like it was one of communication — with perhaps a side order of organization (though that’s kind of a facet of communication).

That right there — that’s fascinating as hell.

Or to put it another way, this was the era where the script editor became the supreme creative force over the show — whether he appreciated it or not! Both Bidmead and Cartmell had distinct ideas what to do with the series, and went about implementing them with little interference; Saward… well, I’m not entirely sure what he was doing. There was obviously a huge communication issue here, in terms of what each party expected of the other, that wasn’t present with the other two editors, that just led to escalating frustration all around. Again: drama! Needn’t be dirty; if anything, an even analysis of the situation could defuse a lot of tension and anger that still seems to lurk around this area. Clear up a lot of misconceptions, and open it up for rethinking.

Dwelling a little more, this lack of communication on JNT’s part (though again there are two sides to any exchange, and neither Bidmead nor Cartmel seemed to have all that much difficulty, comparably speaking) might to some extent explain why he was stuck with the show for so long.

It’s often struck me as odd that JNT kept asking the BBC to reassign him, yet was continually refused. Looking back, I realize in most cases the sitting producers and script editors tended to have successors in mind who they preened for the role before themselves moving on. JNT didn’t approach it this way; again, it appears he was all business. When he decided he wanted to quit, he figured he could just fill out the forms and trot along; he’d done his part of the picture. The problem was, he was leaving to other people the task of continuing the show — much as he generally left the creative duties to the script editor, writers, directors, and cast. Of course the BBC wouldn’t have that; they probably felt it was his job to get the show’s affairs in order. Indeed, if JNT didn’t do it I can’t imagine who would.

Though JNT’s approach didn’t seem a very good fit for the show, I’m not sure if he can wholly be blamed. He just seemed to have different expectations from everyone else — and in another situation, his expectations might have been essentially reasonable. And they might have worked, if everyone wasn’t looking to him to make decisions that he wasn’t prepared to make and had simply let him do what he was good at — an area where, from what I understand, he was indeed quite skilled.

“I feel like I’m in a John Hughes rite du passage movie”

  • Reading time:3 mins read

Something curious about Wayne’s World is that, whereas most movies expanded from TV shows or skits throw the main characters into a situation where the goofy yet courageous heroes have to preserve [x] from the sleazy [corporate/bureaucratic/criminal something], in this case most of Wayne’s problems are entirely his own fault. They come out of the same character traits that put him in an endless string of food service jobs, living out of his parents’ house, wishing he could make something out of his life. These in turn simply the downside of the same traits that make him so charming and fun to be around in the short term.

Which, come to think of it, is a similar situation to the one in The Big Lebowski. And collectively (both as a unit and within that unit), to the main characters in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. And even, yes, to Charlie Kaufman’s protagonists (despite the existential crisis in Adaptation). The qualities that make the characters distinctive and interesting to watch are also those that make them vulnerable; a strong character-based plot (and every plot is to some extent character-based) explores the positive and negative qualities of those traits, first by ingratiating the characters then by showing how those qualities we admire allow them to screw up, then showing how, when applied correctly, those traits can in some way redeem the characters. It’s pretty much scriptwriting 101, of course; the nature of a character arc. Still, there you go.

On an essential level, that’s what we’re there to experience: people who are redeemable fuckups, whose power for redemption comes from the same quality that makes them weak. The question, of course, is where to draw the line: how fatal, exactly, is that fatal flaw? It all depends on the character, and the traits in question — which is basically the point. As all stories are character-based (even if that character is nonliving or even nonphysical), a satisfying story comes entirely out of those characters’ characters. And there’s very little contrived about Wayne’s World; it’s a solid, honest, well-told story. For the movie’s origin and premise, this is pretty unusual! It comes through allowing the character to indeed be fuckups, rather than putting them on a pedestal where they can do no wrong and all the world’s ills befall them in spite of their best efforts.

Then Wayne’s World 2 finds the main cast again in a rut, basically relying on the same shortcuts that got them through life last time we saw them — only now they’re a little older, and the world is a little bigger, and none of their tricks are working anymore. If anything, they’re backfiring on a basic level. Taking the whole plot into account, they’re backfiring on a scale grander and deeper than is immediately obvious — which is sort of the whole point to the movie, and the reason for most of its awkward humor. Part of the reason the movie maybe isn’t so easy to like as the first one is that it portrays its characters as even less effectual than before. None of the character traits we’re there to see are doing the protagonists much good. The movie is basically chiding them for not learning their lesson last time, and giving them one last lesson by showing them the results of their lack of development. (Sort of an Ebenezer Scrooge thing.) It’s a really good coda, though — and an appropriate one, given the characters.

Defining the Next Generation

  • Reading time:28 mins read

by [name redacted]

This article was originally intended as a conclusion to NextGen’s 2006 TGS coverage. Then it got held back for two months as an event piece. By the time it saw publication its window had sort of expired, so a significantly edited version went up under the title “What The New Consoles Really Mean”.

So we’re practically there. TGS is well over, the pre-orders have begun; Microsoft’s system has already been out for a year (and is now graced with a few excellent or important games). The generation is right on the verge of turning, and all those expensive electronics you’ve been monitoring for the last few years, half dreading out of thriftiness and secret knowledge that there won’t be anything good on them for a year anyway, will become the new status quo. Immediately the needle will jump and point at a new horizon, set around 2011, and everyone will start twiddling his thumbs again. By the time the drama and dreams resume, I’ll be in my early thirties, another American president will have served nearly a full term – and for the first time in my life I really can’t predict what videogames will be like.

Work update

  • Reading time:2 mins read

Museum of Terror 3 is supposedly out now, though again I’ve not yet seen it. As good as are the earlier volumes, I far more enjoyed this than the first two. Furthermore, I think it should be a lot easier to get into than the Tomie stuff. If you pick up one English-language manga this year, choose this one! Dark Horse isn’t sure whether or not to continue the line, so sales of this book are critical.

Oh hey, remember that article I spent so long finishing? It’s going to go up soon, albeit in greatly condensed and at times summarized form. Colin has no objections to my putting the full version up shortly after its initial publication, so watch this space over the weekend for an excusive director’s cut.

I guess the issue was, I intended this to be published two months ago as sort of a conclusion to TGS. I finished it a few weeks ago, and it got held until now as an “event” piece. Then I guess Colin realized it didn’t quite address the new system launches the way he wanted it to, so it got paraphrased into something kind of different. Fair enough, I guess. He’s the editor.

Anyway, I’ll post the original version on Sunday or Monday, after NextGen has accumulated most of the hits it’ll get. It’s kind of different! I was actually pretty excited about some of the ideas in it; a shame they won’t get more air.

(Yes, Shaper, I’m still working on your article. I’ve got it sketched out, and almost two pages of finished text. Moving slowly! As usual! It’s coming, though — if not in exactly the way I expected.)

The Trouble with Lisa

  • Reading time:2 mins read

Finally a pretty good Torchwood episode. Though each of the previous three was better than the last , last week’s height was a respectable mediocrity. Now we’re basically on target with what I expected out of the series from the start. Aside from the story and tone details (A snappy pace! Enough plot to fill an entire episode! “Adult” content that doesn’t feel completely gratuitous!), finally we get some decent characterization going on! For the first time, there’s some chemistry! Even Dr. Sato gets more to do than usual, here — which isn’t to suggest a lot.

And amongst all that, it’s probably the best Cyberman story ever produced. (Which isn’t to suggest a lot!)

Actually, that leads to odd thing: despite this episode being the biggest, most obvious crossover yet with the parent series, it’s also the first one that seems to project its own personality apart from Who. Perhaps it was being set almost entirely in the Hub, mostly using elements introduced in the previous episodes — and the Who crossover, though involving a traditional monster, was directly tied to established Torchwood lore. From the pizza to the Canary Wharf incident to Ianto’s background, to Jack’s intense hardness, for once this series feels like it’s got its own mythology.

Now that I know the production team is capable of living up to some of the series potential, I guess I can be a little harder on it. Given that this is what I had always imagined as an “average” episode of Torchwood, I’ll be expecting a lot from now on.