Wednesday, October 01, 2003
Happy Halloween the First.
Yesterday was another remarkable writing day. By dinner time, I'd done 2,037 words on Chapter Eleven. That's after the rewrite I did on Tuesday's pages. It is my goal to do as much today, then slow down tomorrow. The novel should be "finished" by Thursday or Friday. With hope. Cross your fingers for me. Productivity-wise, October was amazing. I had 24/30 productive writing days. When you factor in my having lost the 1st and 2nd to Dragon*Con, and one day to proofreading, and another to the photoshoot for the Low Red Moon author's photo (all these things are pseudo-work), it's more like 24/26, based on days available for potential productivity, and I get a 92.3% productivity rate for September (I think). There was only one real off-day. Yay for me. Anyway, there's something bizarrely bouyant in the ending of this book. It's so dark, and such terrible things are coming, but there's still triumph and courage, and it seems to be lifting me. Yes, that all sounds strange. I know. But I was almost this same way at the end of Low Red Moon. I've never written anything so sad, I think, as Low Red Moon, and yet I found a triumph in the conclusion. I would explain it better if I could. When I strip away from a character everything, and I mean everything, all dignity and health and hope and the people whom they love and yet, still, I find some route whereby to imbue them with the courage to continue and triumph, however dark that triumph may be, it gives me hope and I begin to understand the truth of why I write. Maybe all those agents and editors weren't rooting for Gin in The Five of Cups, but I did. We go as far as we can, and then we keep going.
Last night, Spooky and I watched In Dreams. I'd not seen it since it's initial theatrical release in 1999. And having seen it again, I still think it's a beautiful, powerful film, and far more deserving than people think. It's like a second take on The Company of Wolves, almost, only the wolves stay hairy on the inside. Great casting. Elliot Goldenthal's score is great and Darius Khondji's cinematography is Oscar-quality. Annette Bening's performace is a little shrill here and there, and Stephen Rhea would have done better without the heavy New York accent. But otherwise, only one huge gripe . . .
As I said when I first saw it, I believe In Dreams bears the heavy hand of studio interference. Claire and Vivian go over the edge of the damn into the resevoir and the film draws to a beautiful (and darkly triumphant) conclusion as Claire drowns and is reconciled with her murdered daughter. Beautiful. The camera gives us a gorgeous low-angle shot of Claire and Rebecca backlit by the surface of the water and a brilliant autumn sun shining through it. And that's the end of the film, right there. But. It continues for several more minutes with a peculiar, idiotic epilogue of sorts, in which we see that Vivian didn't die in the fall and has been sentenced to life in prison, where he'll be haunted by Claire's vengeful ghost. Suddenly, we have an entirely different film. Robert Downey, Jr. isn't even playing the character here and the direction doesn't feel like Jordan. The soft-spokeness of the film is suddenly shattered by bleeding walls and spectral hands emerging from a mirror. And I pray that this is not the director's doing. It can't be. This is the work of studio pressure following a screening for the execs or some lamentable series of "test" screenings. Some moron (or morons) didn't get it, or they thought the end was too much of a downer, or they thought it was too morally ambiguous and we had to see Vivian get his comeupance. Some silly dren like that. I haven't confirmed this, but I believe it. Those last few minutes simply are not part of the whole of In Dreams and they turn an artful supernatural thriller in Freddy Kruegeresque nonsense. I blame, expectation, of course. In it's original form, I suspect this film was not what was expected of a supernatural thriller so someone forced it into the mold of expectation and, viola, something fit for the scuttlefish! It's so painfully reminiscent of what I went through with the ending of The Girl Who Would Be Death (but that's another story for another time, kiddos). Anyway, believe me, if you appreciate Neil Jordan (I adore him), and haven't seen this film, rent it, just be sure to hit STOP after the aforementioned low-angle shot (and I apologize for the spoilers — the greater good and all, you know). You might fast forward to the credits, so you can hear the lucious Roy Orbison. Trust me.
Take a moment to check out the eBay auctions and the Species of One shop. Gas money for New England, you know.
Oh, and a huge thank you to Bert G. of Amazon.com for shutting up an asshole.
|
|
