RANTING AND RAVING

The fourth anniversary of The Hot Button came and went without much notice on Saturday… not even from me.  Not good.  Things are changing.  And I need to make a commitment that I can keep and feel good about keeping. 

What that means is that as of next week, The Hot Button will become a weekly column, not progressing, but kind of regressing into the region where some of my other roughcut work lived.  I don’t think the new THB will be like The Whole Picture, since it should be a lot more topical.  On the other hand, I don’t expect a reflection of Working Hollywood, since it will be less specific to any one event.

It will be, as The Hot Button has been, a work in progress.  In addition, I will be starting a weekly column for the FIU Miami Film Festival website (www.miamifilmfestival.com) sometime in September.  So there will be two bites of the apple left out there.

Writing a daily column has been a fairly spectacular experience.  I’ve been free to bend the format, play with traditional journalism’s supposed rules, pursue fights relentlessly… One of the great things about a daily is that it allows me the freedom to be wrong.  Being wrong is one of the great bugaboos of journalism.  And there is reason for that.  Such as the fact that outlets HATE admitting they are wrong.  They would rather let the part that they screwed up fade into the background… though it never fades.  One has to step up and take responsibility for being wrong.  And that can be as rewarding, amazingly, as being right.  Because the readers are a part of the entire experience and your nature is often far more interesting to me when I have been wrong.  How you correct me, attack me, care for me, abuse me… all a wonderful part of my growth.

The other thing I see out there, more clearly than ever, is how fallow this area of journalism is right now.  I expect a great and glorious backlash against the commoditization of film from writers who really care… eventually.  Right now, I see strong men and women cowering in fear of a lost paycheck.  And it doesn’t make me any happier to see the ones who were too cocky and egomaniacal cowering than the ones who were gentler and more thoughtful.  We are all part of what makes the stew flavorful. 

As I move into a new era of my life, I am already dealing with the awkward reality of being the subject of attention as well as the distanced journalist.  It is an odd place to be.  And yet, there has already been a steady flow of this stuff in my life.  A friend asked me the other day, “What’s it like to come back to Miami as a semi-celebrity?”  I didn’t think to say it then, but I’ve been a semi-celebrity in certain circles already.  And while it has been nice in certain ways, it hasn’t really added to my skill or my smarts or, least of all, my clarity.

When the plane touched down in Los Angeles last night, suddenly I felt it.  I was the Director of the Miami Film Festival.  I was now on the side of procuring the best films I could find and talk someone into letting me show.  I was now in the business of creating small moments of magic that would light up the Miami skyline and make my job of convincing distributors easier in 2003 and beyond.  I was now in the business of embracing and building the careers of artists who bring something worthy to our lives, struggling against all logic to give voice to their dreams.

It felt good.

Someone wrote in yesterday to make some suggestions, since he felt I had lost interest in the column.  I guess there is some truth to that, but I see it from another angle.  I’m a pretty good multi-tasker.  I can keep a lot of balls in the air at the same time.  But, in doing the work that really matters to me, I must be connected in the deepest way.  People wonder why I’ll see a film two or three or four times.  It’s because knowing is my job… not guessing, not sticking my finger in the wind and letting the crowd influence me… knowing.  Which isn’t to say that I can’t be wrong.  Or that others don’t get to have equally strong opinions.  But if I’m not sure, I’m not having the fight. 

And these thoughts are all fights.  When I bring bitter disappointment to a film, I take that very seriously.  Traveling back and forth from Miami this time, I watched Driven twice.  Driven is easily the worst film I’ve seen this year.  Nothing comes close.  It makes Battlefield Earth look pretty good… at least Battlefield Earth seemed to believe its own confused conception.  But I needed to hear all that incredibly bad dialogue again.  I needed to watch Renny Harlin, who is underrated in most quarters and who sunk beyond anyone’s earlier attacks on him with this absolute turd of a film, move the camera like a 9-year-old in need of Ritalin.  I needed to see an outright crotch shot of Estella Warren (as overt as anything Larry Clark did in Bully) that Harlin managed to make as sexy as shopping for lingerie with your grandma.  I had to watch Kip Purdue get serious by putting on glasses… to see the integration of video game imagery that they clearly decided to cut to almost nothing in post… to see the stunning parade of bad plastic surgery.  Oddly enough, I walked away from the second viewing believing that Til Schwiger could be an American movie star on the level of Rutger Hauer if he selects more carefully.  But I watched. 

When I love a film, I want to be able to defend that too.  I spend a lot of my time convincing people of a lot of things… but mostly, I want to be able to convince myself.  And this week, in Miami, I did.  I fell in love with what we are about to do. 

And so, that romance begins.  And The Hot Button becomes my sister, instead of my lover. 

You know, I love my sister.  (Actually all three sisters.)  And I’d do anything I could for them.  They get a part of my best.   But the festival will get more. 

Sometime soon, this site will have an e-mail sign up, for no reason other than to let you know when a new column is up… especially when I am inspired to write more than the one a week.  In the meanwhile, I hope you’ll stick with me and help me shape the future of this column and ultimately, the future of my beloved festival. 

See you next week…

David

READER OF THE DAY:  I try to stay away from printing self-serving e-mails, but somehow Gordo found a tine that hit home for me today:  “It must be great to be famous! Shame you never get the credit for it.  There I was, reading the paper on Saturday and my eyes fall on an article about what a bad summer it's been for movies. No disagreement from me ... I read on, and the writer proceeds to tell his audience about how studios are now trying to earn the maximum amount possible from the opening weekend through a process called front loading ... can you tell where this is going yet?  "Voices of Hollywood" has been pointing out this trend all summer.Saturday's story appeared in the Irish Times, under syndication from the UK newspaper The Guardian.

OK, print is so 20th century ... I've since located the story online if you want to have a look at it. You'll find it here.

I've been reading your articles since the days of "The Whole Picture" and IMHO, your coverage of the movie business this summer has been among your best writing, informed and informative.  I know where I read it first. Keep up the good work and congratulations on your recent festival appointment.

E ME:  Thanks…