Noah Henry Morriss

This still is from Andrzej Żuławski’s 1981 movie Possession.

The two characters, husband and wife played by Sam Neill and Isabelle Adjani, are having a conversation on whether she is seeing someone else.

I watched this movie a couple of years ago and still this framing sticks in my head. It’s just interesting that the two wouldn’t sit at the same table, they sit at this weird angle forced by a cornered wall.

For the most part they don’t even look at each other, they just converse like this. It adds a whole new layer of tension to the scene as the camera slowly dollies closer to them.

I’ve been reading David Bordwell’s book Figures Traced in Light: On Cinematic Staging which is an analysis on a number of different dinner scenes between small groups of characters. It demonstrates different ways in which these scenes, which are typical of most films, can be framed, shot, edited, and blocked. It goes through a number of films by a number of different directors and goes into a lot of detail on how such a simple scene can be done.

A lot of films tend to operate on the same set of standards. A dinner conversation like this would have back and forth coverage between the actors, which is a fine thing to do. We know that it works.

But a choice like this one is just a touch more weighty.

It’s a scary thing to accept a niche. Be it genre, style, medium, theme… whatever category you decide to claim.

It’s a scary thing but also a necessary thing. Neither is it a permanent thing. If a few years down the line, once you’ve established yourself in one thing you will likely have the option to switch up for another, or more likely add something on to your already established niche.

Limitations are so hard to get along with. As people we tend to struggle against them constantly, always looking for a sense of freedom, the ability to do what we want in the moment.

We think that to be “successful” in a chosen dream field is to have complete freedom, the ability to work on whatever we want to work on as a career. But this is not the truth.

The people who “succeed”, the people that you admire be it writers, filmmakers, designers, performers… yadda yadda yadda… they have boundaries. There are things that their audiences expect of them and they’ve got to play by rules or else risk it all.

So they learn to live within it. To work with it. To appreciate the niche.

It’s a decision I guess, yes, but it’s the price of admission. And you’ve gotta pay up.

Danny Boyle’s 2002 film 28 Days Later was rereleased in theaters last week as promotion for the upcoming sequel 28 Years Later. It’d been awhile since I’d seen it last, I remembered enjoying it but not feeling overly enthused by it, but I didn’t have anything to do that night so I went.

It’s fantastic.

Maybe it’s because I saw it in a theater on a big screen. Maybe it’s because I saw it with a large crowd of people who all seemed invested in it. I don’t know what.

But it was fantastic.

It’s a great story, it’s got a great soundtrack, the cast is great… but my favorite element is how it was filmed.

To my knowledge it’s one of the earlier examples of digital filming on a studio picture, especially using digital cameras predominantly for their maneuverability.

There is so much texture to the film. So much noise and movement that gives the grittiness of the story a new meaning. Paired with some really great compositions and movements, it’s something else.

It was shot by Anthony Dod Mantle who worked on a lot of the initial Dogme 95 films which definitely translates over to this film.

The rhythm of the compositions was also notable with the image cutting from these great dolly shots to oddly framed stills at just the right time.

I was reading some reviews on Letterboxd, a mistake, and kept coming across people complaining about the visuals.

Personally I think it was masterfully done. I got a lot of ideas watching it and it was a real treat to experience.

Most of the time when I’m working on a script I really just feel like I’m working with scratch paper. That I’m just noodling around with some ideas and am not actually doing any definite work.

There’s a lot to say that a screenplay is just a blueprint for the film, that it’s an unfinished project until the rest of the pieces come together.

That’s not a great outlook for me as someone who is actually trying to get some work done.

Typing up words onto a script draft really feels like nothing is getting done. There is a constant feeling that things can be so easily changed, the backspace is so easy to press.

Finding ways to make sure that I’m moving forward without the ability to easily move backwards is one of the most important things in my process. If I can linger on something I will, that’s just how I am.

Right now I’m putting together a pitch deck for a project. I’ve done a little brainstorming in terms of story, logline and such, but no writing writing. I’m doing this as an experiment to see if this way will help me define the project before I jump in.

If by creating the pitch first, I might be able to have a better grasp on how to keep moving.

I’ve been working on a new project today and was using some of Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat to try and work some things out.

I’m wasn’t initially a huge fan of the book, it sort of broke down the process in a way that didn’t totally resonate with me. But I do keep coming back to some of its ideas, and I think that’s the point. Each time I revisit it I take something and refashion it to my own uses. Or atleast reexamine it through a lens that I can get behind.

I think that’s really the point of these “self-help/How to do it” type of books. If you look at them long enough you can usually find a way to make them work for you, whether or not that was the author’s intent or not.

For context, I was using the book to try and improve the logline for the story I’m working on.

I’ve been trying to get better at noticing when I’m stalling on a project. Noticing when I’m “trying” to move forward, but am just doing the same old things that haven’t been working.

It’s easy to fall into this trap. To really believe that your chipping away at something when you’re just sort of wandering around kicking a can about.

This blog post by Wait But Why gets to the point pretty quickly.

Basically, specificity is key. If you can be specific in defining the type of thing you’re trying to do, you’ll figure out a way to get there.

Also, just asking yourself if your moving in a purposeful direction can be a great way to reorient yourself.