I forgot to write about the most important part of the film. The man behind it all. The man that gets no credit at all. The Luke Suzumoto (I hope to GOD I'm spelling that right, because if i'm not--and I misspell it a LOT--I'm in the dog house tonight. No sex for me). Luke Suzumoto was with me for the ENTIRE writing of the script. He was my "go-to" guy. Whenever I would have an idea like, "Okay. So the dad thinks that he's Elvis Presley because he was it a a car accident and only has long-term memory, etc.", he would say "that's crap" (He's actually say something more like "uhh...", which i took to mean "that's crap"). I have to thank Lukie for helping me write the entire script, and he deserves a credit as "shit checker".
In addition to his title as "Shit Checker", he's also the Director of Photography on the entire film, although he's often stuck with nothing to do. He's in charge of the entire look of the film, and if it comes out shitty, I know who's ass to kick.
I think Luke deserves more credit than anybody on this film for putting up with so much of my bullshit and everybody's bullshit. He sits around doing nothing when Austin brings "his friend that he boxes with" to "set up lights". If there was ONE major injustice done to anybody on this film, it wouldn't be giving Maggie's role to Sam Hertz and it wouldn't be giving Sam France's lines to Michael. It would be taking Luke for granted.
Well, here's your credit, Luke. On a blog somewhere on the internet. A blog that you might never read, but a living testament to you. You are a great photographer, visionary, actor, and friend. You hold everything together whether you think you do or not. You are the glue of this movie.
Thank you for everything.
--Jonathan Rado.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Why HAOJ Will Blow Minds (and Why it Matters) by Jonathan Rado
"Here's Another One, Jon" is going to be the breakout hit of the summer. Kiss my ass, Daniel-Day Lewis and fuck you, Coen Brothers. There's a new sheriff in town. In fact, many sheriffs. There's a fucking police force in town--and they ain't takin' names, they're taking numbers (what?).
HAOJ (for short) will succeed for one and only one reason: The Stellar Cast. Not since "Magnolia" or at least "Colonel Bedlum" has there been a better cast.
Let's start with Micheal Callas. The genius of Micheal Callas cannot be described in words. Only in hand gestures. When I thought Sam would not be able to be in the film, I asked Michael to play the part. He stepped in with open arms and an open heart (I don't know what that means), and played the part better than Sam could have. He is the driving force behind this movie -- acting in it as well as helping out behind the scenes. Fuck yeah.
Sam France: I wrote the "Johnny Lash" part for Sam (it was then Peter Apple), and directly quoted (when I say "quoted" i mean "took credit for") conversations (Sam France rants) that we've had in the screenplay. The movie took a serious blow when we thought he couldn't be in it, but now he's back (and funnier than ever). I wrote him a better part (despite what he tells you), and he plays it fantastically, even though he's not in it a lot (he's in it for a good 4/6 of the script, despite what he tells you). The movie would suffer without him.
Sam Hertz: Wow. Sam stepped in as Maggie Marshall after we realized that using Maggie Anderson would never work (although she was also fantastic). She was originally the character of Layla, but has somehow charmed her way up to "the big league". The part of Maggie is a hard part to play, because it's not THAT funny but still has to carry the entire movie. It's a lot of pressure, and although we've only had one shoot with her, she's doing it fantastically. We originally were worried about her playing it to "theatrey", but she managed not to (which is hard to do--come from the stage to screen. I have heard this. I wouldn't know. Fuck me). She DOES carry the film, and better than anybody expected her to. A star is born. She's the next Diane Keaton (or at least the next Allie Martone).
Bryan Felber: I originally wrote a part for Bryan to make him feel bad. You see, I've never had a big role in any of his movies. I'm usually the guy he calls to fill in for Evan Lewis. My 3 lines in "Metronome" are the funniest one's -- not to mention my "I don't know, they speak French there" in Doppelganger. So, to spite him, I tried to write him a really funny part. I partly succeeded. The part of Stephen Cash isn't THAT funny, the lines are strangely written, and written really fast at that. However, at the read-through that we held, the world (all 9 of us) got a glimpse at the true genius of Bryan Felber. He managed to take a half-assed character and create it into a powerhouse of funny. It's his best role (third to Pushpaup and Kid #4 in Doppelganger). People will remember his performance forever (for maybe three weeks). However, Bryan is not just a brilliant actor, he's also the producer of the film. He's doing a wonderful job at planning shoots and whatnot. He's a breath of fresh air on the set and all around a great guy. All hail Bryan Felber.
Ron Becks: Ron Becks plays my therapist "Dr. Becks". The character was originally named "Dr. Coyne", but we changed it to Dr. Becks because he played the character so much differently than it was written (a good thing). His performance was marvelous and now he lives in Las Vegas. I had to pick him up at his apartment a couple times and he made my car smell like petchulli oil. That's all I have to say about Ron Becks.
Ariana Dewing: Ariana plays Courtney. She has about seven lines, all of which she plays better than Sidney Portier in "In The Heat of the Night" ("they call me Mrs. Dewing!"). I'm going to give her more lines because she's very good at them. My fingers are tiring. I will do a few more.
Ashley Strumwasser: She plays the character Layla. We haven't filmed anything with her yet, but she was great at the read through. I look forward to the shoots.
Cathrine Combes: Plays Allison Costello. She's on the Oak Park Comedy Sportz team. I've never even met her, but I already know that she'll be great in this sarcastic, Radoesque role.
Chris Recuptio: I've met him once. He came to the Auditions and read for Mooky. He got the part on the spot. We haven't filmed with him yet.
Allison Martone: She isn't in the film yet. But needs to be. She's the most talented person in the Agoura High drama program, and deserves a good part in this film. She's blown me away in every role that she's ever played, and I would be honored to have her in this movie. I've just got to write her a part -- that's the hard part.
Austin Kearns: Austin doesn't have a role in the film, but he's the director (as you all know). Austin is doing a great job directing, and i truly, honestly, have the utmost faith in him when nobody else does. Austin makes movies about Bicycle fights and Frisbees. He's sure as hell never made a romantic comedy. Hell, I'd be surprised if he's even seen a romantic comedy. But therin lies the genius. He's come into it with no preconceived notions. He's making something fresh out of my re-hashed script, and I really enjoy it. Even if he is a pain in the ass.
Jonathan Rado: Not really that good in the movie. I didn't write myself any funny lines, either. I just tell a bunch of annoying stories and fragment my sentences with "um" and "uh". Everybody else carries the film. Snaps for ensembles!
HAOJ (for short) will succeed for one and only one reason: The Stellar Cast. Not since "Magnolia" or at least "Colonel Bedlum" has there been a better cast.
Let's start with Micheal Callas. The genius of Micheal Callas cannot be described in words. Only in hand gestures. When I thought Sam would not be able to be in the film, I asked Michael to play the part. He stepped in with open arms and an open heart (I don't know what that means), and played the part better than Sam could have. He is the driving force behind this movie -- acting in it as well as helping out behind the scenes. Fuck yeah.
Sam France: I wrote the "Johnny Lash" part for Sam (it was then Peter Apple), and directly quoted (when I say "quoted" i mean "took credit for") conversations (Sam France rants) that we've had in the screenplay. The movie took a serious blow when we thought he couldn't be in it, but now he's back (and funnier than ever). I wrote him a better part (despite what he tells you), and he plays it fantastically, even though he's not in it a lot (he's in it for a good 4/6 of the script, despite what he tells you). The movie would suffer without him.
Sam Hertz: Wow. Sam stepped in as Maggie Marshall after we realized that using Maggie Anderson would never work (although she was also fantastic). She was originally the character of Layla, but has somehow charmed her way up to "the big league". The part of Maggie is a hard part to play, because it's not THAT funny but still has to carry the entire movie. It's a lot of pressure, and although we've only had one shoot with her, she's doing it fantastically. We originally were worried about her playing it to "theatrey", but she managed not to (which is hard to do--come from the stage to screen. I have heard this. I wouldn't know. Fuck me). She DOES carry the film, and better than anybody expected her to. A star is born. She's the next Diane Keaton (or at least the next Allie Martone).
Bryan Felber: I originally wrote a part for Bryan to make him feel bad. You see, I've never had a big role in any of his movies. I'm usually the guy he calls to fill in for Evan Lewis. My 3 lines in "Metronome" are the funniest one's -- not to mention my "I don't know, they speak French there" in Doppelganger. So, to spite him, I tried to write him a really funny part. I partly succeeded. The part of Stephen Cash isn't THAT funny, the lines are strangely written, and written really fast at that. However, at the read-through that we held, the world (all 9 of us) got a glimpse at the true genius of Bryan Felber. He managed to take a half-assed character and create it into a powerhouse of funny. It's his best role (third to Pushpaup and Kid #4 in Doppelganger). People will remember his performance forever (for maybe three weeks). However, Bryan is not just a brilliant actor, he's also the producer of the film. He's doing a wonderful job at planning shoots and whatnot. He's a breath of fresh air on the set and all around a great guy. All hail Bryan Felber.
Ron Becks: Ron Becks plays my therapist "Dr. Becks". The character was originally named "Dr. Coyne", but we changed it to Dr. Becks because he played the character so much differently than it was written (a good thing). His performance was marvelous and now he lives in Las Vegas. I had to pick him up at his apartment a couple times and he made my car smell like petchulli oil. That's all I have to say about Ron Becks.
Ariana Dewing: Ariana plays Courtney. She has about seven lines, all of which she plays better than Sidney Portier in "In The Heat of the Night" ("they call me Mrs. Dewing!"). I'm going to give her more lines because she's very good at them. My fingers are tiring. I will do a few more.
Ashley Strumwasser: She plays the character Layla. We haven't filmed anything with her yet, but she was great at the read through. I look forward to the shoots.
Cathrine Combes: Plays Allison Costello. She's on the Oak Park Comedy Sportz team. I've never even met her, but I already know that she'll be great in this sarcastic, Radoesque role.
Chris Recuptio: I've met him once. He came to the Auditions and read for Mooky. He got the part on the spot. We haven't filmed with him yet.
Allison Martone: She isn't in the film yet. But needs to be. She's the most talented person in the Agoura High drama program, and deserves a good part in this film. She's blown me away in every role that she's ever played, and I would be honored to have her in this movie. I've just got to write her a part -- that's the hard part.
Austin Kearns: Austin doesn't have a role in the film, but he's the director (as you all know). Austin is doing a great job directing, and i truly, honestly, have the utmost faith in him when nobody else does. Austin makes movies about Bicycle fights and Frisbees. He's sure as hell never made a romantic comedy. Hell, I'd be surprised if he's even seen a romantic comedy. But therin lies the genius. He's come into it with no preconceived notions. He's making something fresh out of my re-hashed script, and I really enjoy it. Even if he is a pain in the ass.
Jonathan Rado: Not really that good in the movie. I didn't write myself any funny lines, either. I just tell a bunch of annoying stories and fragment my sentences with "um" and "uh". Everybody else carries the film. Snaps for ensembles!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
"Why 'HAOJ' Will Fail (And Why It Matters)" by Sam France
After weeks of contemplation and rigorous research, I have developed my HAOJ thesis.
I am both honoured and proud to announce that this film is destined to fail miserably. It will be boring, un-funny and maybe even offensive. Why?
First off, I'm in it. Anything I'm in is never really taken seriously. Why do you think Ethan Kuperberg never cast me in anything? I had two lines in the murder fucking mystery last year, Man. Marcella Gersh even jumped the gun the year previous and handed me a fat, British role where I played the Asshole I play in everything. Doppelfuck? No, thanks. What if I played A.J.'s role in Doppelfuck? Wow. No, it wouldn't have kicked ass. It would have been a high Mr. Robbins improvising bullshit, and would have kicked ass. And I would've had to kiss Alex Paul, which isn't so bad seeing that I had to kiss her in Sugar, which I wasn't in because I became an alcoholic as part of a science experiment. But now I'm a Mormon and I'm saved.
Secondly, nobody can relate to the screenplay. I don't even get half the references and I'm Rado's fucking best friend. Superbad fucking slappy sippy dick humor? Kids can relate to that. Oscar Wilde? Who? Yeah, because more than 50 percent of the people on Earth have a dick but a good 90 percent of my high school's never read The Picture Of Dorian Gray. I sound like Bendis.
Thirdly, there's no story. The whole thing is a Rado vanity project. Bendis' death, the Big Funeral; nothing happens besides Rado just being Rado for two hours and a good two minutes of Bendis-isms is enough for me, if not too much.
Obviously, the collaboration of Auddy Waffles and Rado is insane -- and the ending result can only be a compromised vision of the two. Wes Anderson, meet Woody Allen. Okay, Good. Now -- make a movie together and don't disagree about the shot where Diane Keaton is wearing a red jumpsuit and is sitting in front of floral wallpaper to sitar music for a half an hour. Go!
Also, there's no sex. What's a movie without sex?
All in all, Martin luther king was a good man because he was white and because white people brought dying black people to america to serve the Lord and eat corn on the cob. yayayayaya!!!
-dead
I am both honoured and proud to announce that this film is destined to fail miserably. It will be boring, un-funny and maybe even offensive. Why?
First off, I'm in it. Anything I'm in is never really taken seriously. Why do you think Ethan Kuperberg never cast me in anything? I had two lines in the murder fucking mystery last year, Man. Marcella Gersh even jumped the gun the year previous and handed me a fat, British role where I played the Asshole I play in everything. Doppelfuck? No, thanks. What if I played A.J.'s role in Doppelfuck? Wow. No, it wouldn't have kicked ass. It would have been a high Mr. Robbins improvising bullshit, and would have kicked ass. And I would've had to kiss Alex Paul, which isn't so bad seeing that I had to kiss her in Sugar, which I wasn't in because I became an alcoholic as part of a science experiment. But now I'm a Mormon and I'm saved.
Secondly, nobody can relate to the screenplay. I don't even get half the references and I'm Rado's fucking best friend. Superbad fucking slappy sippy dick humor? Kids can relate to that. Oscar Wilde? Who? Yeah, because more than 50 percent of the people on Earth have a dick but a good 90 percent of my high school's never read The Picture Of Dorian Gray. I sound like Bendis.
Thirdly, there's no story. The whole thing is a Rado vanity project. Bendis' death, the Big Funeral; nothing happens besides Rado just being Rado for two hours and a good two minutes of Bendis-isms is enough for me, if not too much.
Obviously, the collaboration of Auddy Waffles and Rado is insane -- and the ending result can only be a compromised vision of the two. Wes Anderson, meet Woody Allen. Okay, Good. Now -- make a movie together and don't disagree about the shot where Diane Keaton is wearing a red jumpsuit and is sitting in front of floral wallpaper to sitar music for a half an hour. Go!
Also, there's no sex. What's a movie without sex?
All in all, Martin luther king was a good man because he was white and because white people brought dying black people to america to serve the Lord and eat corn on the cob. yayayayaya!!!
-dead
Monday, January 14, 2008
"Mystery Train" by Sam France
I guess Bryan Felber (?) wrote the previous blog? Composing sentences that aren't in question form with question marks at the end? Very urban? It's genius and blindly ticklish -- that's all I know. Anyways, I had to crawl up and post another (One, Jon!) blog (sorry America) in order to reinstate my rule here; I just want it known that this is MY blog, I made it, I rule it, and all you criddlers who actually have something to do with the film can get off your Posting Horses (Buffalo Son prequel) and leave the poetry to me. Just kidding. That's a JOKE -- and a good one at that!!!!! Actually, every time one of you posts it's like a little sunburst orgasm moan in my socks. This is all I do at school besides listen to Highway 61 Revisited and 36 Chambers. Mhmm. At the same time. Yeah. Awesome. Killer. Stellar. Dark Side Of The Wizard Of Oz trippy mind-bending shit. "As Good As It Gets" set to Sabbath's "Paranoia." Try it/buy it SOMETIME SOON!
Finals Fuck Shit Up and Serit Rathbone Needs a Part
As of right now, we don’t have any shoots lined up till February because certain pussies of the cast and crew want to partake in this truly 21st century practice of “studying for finals.” It’s okay. We all know they’ll go to Starbucks, get a caramel frap, and never once open their history book or whatever bullshit they decided to bring with them in their inevitably futile attempt to study outside the house.
All I have to say is “Fuck my ball sack in the mail!” Try saying that whenever feeling stressed. It works.
We have such a great movie on our hands, guys. And we all know Austin Kearns is gonna fuck it up. Just kidding. The Maggie Bedroom scene actually went fairly well according to my knowledge. I don’t mind being just the producer of this film as long as I don’t end up producing a fucked up Woody Allen version of Brick.
We have a great cast. I think we can all say we belong to the Church of Godless Gays and Contemporaries…whatever that bullshit means. Sam Hertz is so god damn perfect for the part (that was my call, thank you Kristy). I said, “Hey Rado. Why don’t we just have Sam Hertz play Maggie. She’s cute, sweet, and a little Jewish looking. Then we just get fucking A-Strummer to play Layla.” Genius. I know. Fuck my ball sack.
Am I the only one who thinks Serit Rathbone is really cute? She should play one of Rado’s flashback dates.
Look forward to working with all y’all!!!!!!
Peace ya later!!!
All I have to say is “Fuck my ball sack in the mail!” Try saying that whenever feeling stressed. It works.
We have such a great movie on our hands, guys. And we all know Austin Kearns is gonna fuck it up. Just kidding. The Maggie Bedroom scene actually went fairly well according to my knowledge. I don’t mind being just the producer of this film as long as I don’t end up producing a fucked up Woody Allen version of Brick.
We have a great cast. I think we can all say we belong to the Church of Godless Gays and Contemporaries…whatever that bullshit means. Sam Hertz is so god damn perfect for the part (that was my call, thank you Kristy). I said, “Hey Rado. Why don’t we just have Sam Hertz play Maggie. She’s cute, sweet, and a little Jewish looking. Then we just get fucking A-Strummer to play Layla.” Genius. I know. Fuck my ball sack.
Am I the only one who thinks Serit Rathbone is really cute? She should play one of Rado’s flashback dates.
Look forward to working with all y’all!!!!!!
Peace ya later!!!
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Holler by Michael Callas
For everyone that's been reading these blogs (no one), I'll tell you what it's about because there's no way you know. You probably think this is just some weird live journal belonging to this fucked up kid named Sam France. This movie is about a quirky kid who's got two somewhat neg-head friends and he meets the female version of himself and finds love. The working title was Garden State II (This Time It's Personal) but I think we're just gonna call it Here's Another One, Jon! Also it's directed by Tyler Durden/The Gay Handicapped Quentin Tarantino.
Much Love,
3K
Much Love,
3K
Thursday, January 10, 2008
The Day the Music Died
This is the best blog ever. It's turned into a somewhat coherent fourm of HAOJ decadence and decent production blogs to just a stadium for Sam France dribble. Have you ever heard Guess Who's "American Woman" live at the Paladium? That's the best piece of gobblety-goop.
Not to say that we don't enjoy Sam France dribble, but what the fuck is a corpse shell?
Fuck it. I also plan on quitting HAOJ. Only then will the production be "perfect".
As for Sam leaving Foxygen:
Fuck it.
I'm joining Train.
-Rado
Not to say that we don't enjoy Sam France dribble, but what the fuck is a corpse shell?
Fuck it. I also plan on quitting HAOJ. Only then will the production be "perfect".
As for Sam leaving Foxygen:
Fuck it.
I'm joining Train.
-Rado
"You Can All Touch Me (Later)" by Sam France
I'd like it noted that my hair is in the upper right-hand corner of the photo with Sarah Finlayson as evidence that I'm somewhat in the know concerning what's happening with this movie, (I'm there, I'm not crusting over/pan and the inevitable No rising, Yes/dead (?,) and it's currently 4:20 ooooh dude fuggin' smokeout shiiit!!! Have you ever smoked weed? It's kinda nice and sincerely safe; I don't see the problem with it and all that. Fuck the police, comin' straight from the underground. Getcher snack on. Anyways, the film's churnin' out great New butter cells like a fucking pedal-machine! (raaaandooom saam hahaha holy fuck!!!) Do you think I should've started "Anyways" in a new paragraph? Definitely arguable. But, uh, ah yes -- the filmage is surreal and genuine. Not to say that the film doesn't suck, which it does. The only film that doesn't suck is Citizen Kane because Orsen Welles is a fucking genius dude you don't even know, he cut a fucking hole in the ground to film the bedroom-trashing scene and I mean the film is essentially a visual masterpiece, sooooo ahead of its time and shit to the point that it's like, wow -- this film is so NOT bad. It's good. I've never seen it, but I mean this isn't bullshit arguable film observation thiss is like FACT. But black curtain-creep circus reels aside, I'd like it known that I plan on quitting HAOJ production this evening -- leaving the film Sam-less and basically perfect. I add nothing to the film but the occasional squirt of pesticide popsicle bullshit, and Rado hates me so it's really all good. I'm also going to call an end to Foxygen to start a new group with Luke Suzumoto and Alyssa Litman called The Wandering Collies' Infinite Black Hole Whole School Bus Command Center For The Cold And Homeless. I also plan on ending Bryan felber's life so he can be set free of his strangling lifehold and be free. If you little fuckers call the police over this stupid blog I will kick your hair myself.
-Ghost Flybox
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
"A Cerebral Spirit Gasps" by Sam France
More school, so more "HAOJ" journalism. (Looks like this madness will be daily; keep you readers on your toes and inside words and harmony and head brilliance instead of outside in the warzone.) Ginseng root plus an empty room and Ima spill my guts for you guys, really. I'm going to work up some tears. This is good.
First off, I'd like to say that I think Rado's idea to post a shitty twenty-second clip of trashed footage of Maggie Anderson on a blog that nobody reads is a brilliant, courteous and honorary way of saying, "Sorry for completely nixing you out of a role, your hopes, your dreams and your gas money." I think that she will truly be uplifted and will truly give a fuck. And as for my cut scene -- it's not like we should put it on the DVD or anything, the footage only being my most hysterical, genius Golden and most importantly sexy shirtless performance since the bathtub implied-masturbation scene in Ryan Schwartz's UNDERAPPRECIATED Oak Park nightmare art film California Eddie.
Which leads us to Katherine Combs, whom Rado and the gang want to play Maggie's right-hand woman; yes, Katherine is a great actress and a "joy to work work" (suit pig talk) as I can vouch acting alongside her in Eddie, but the beauty of the character Rado wrote is in her mellowed-Maggie pop culture prowess which would be both sexy and funny coming from a female who looks like any average tween bop (Bailey, for example, filled in and read the part at the read-through and I thought she was fucking great,) but could easily be blackened/ruined by a chick who already is a pop culture vampire priestess such as Katherine who is dominant and towering (http://www.kanankids.com/.) Not to say that Katherine's text to Bryan wasn't both reassuring and Biblical in its epic-ness:
"I'm drunk and studying my part
I work in mysterious ways
I am not God
And therefore
will not fail you."
The only reason I could tolerate her playing the role is because of this magic. This is genius and beautiful. Fuck it, fuck it fuck it. Katherine Combs all the way. What a fucking magnificent person.
"There -- I have illustrated the contradiction I am famous for. Yes. I have sincerely just changed my mind 100 percent and completely gone against the argument I was making when I started this entry! (good?) It wasn't even on purpose and all the while it was so on purpose. Is this mental illness? Insanity? Simple-mindedness? Sanity?! When does it end? I just wanna take my prizes. (click.) I'm not a free-soul spirit shaker, i'm tellin' you -- I want what's mine, I'm greedy and mean, I swear. (You don't understand.) The book-movie life is not mine, (I never even liked castles,) my dad uses Xacto knives instead of scissors, I don't want your colors to be mine, and I never asked for this. Compartamentalize and all that, and John Garcia. (woosh.) And (he wrote such a great poem sophomore year, i loved it. it was about a guy from Michigan who just loses his kids and his money and stuff and just drives in this bumpy red car just 'a bumpin' along singing about his hardships. the picture was colored pencil and wobbly, real gone stuff you remember.) john raises his hand and everybody waits for the biting cold stuff he spills -- too cold and overcooked, but still scary and motivating. guy has green guts. he really pulls it off. I mean, everybody "pulls it off," right? We just do what we feel we need to do, and sometimes folks nod and sometimes they shake their heads and sometimes they do cartwheels but at the end of the day we all just want a full belly and a little bit of love. Fuck all you black-death hater-warriors. You have friends, so I know you know love. Smile, smile. Whenever I get a fever I smile and my headache lessens. Frown, frown. We are at war, our planet is dead, polluted destroyed massmedia burning plastic pornographic television-machines kill, kill, kill. THERE IS NO DOVE. THERE IS NO HARMONY; no music. What can we do but huddle around, cold? Is that shared misery -- people freezing and miserable tryin' to get warm with their bodies -- love? Or is the real love when you get up, stand up and play the french horn and/or trumpet through the madness? Or is it both? And does it matter? And if it does, why? And if not, why not? And if so, why not not?"
*France then takes a humble drag off his cigarette, sips his black coffee and closes eyes and folds his arms. His self-consciousness is obvious, (he is looking for something -- trying -- trying to get comfortable --) and his friendliness with me has faded noticably since I first began the interview.*
CONT.: "We all know who's set up for failure and who's not. Let's be real. We all know they just pump out proportionate SAT scores in accordance to our GPAs, that you Box motherfuckers write like illiterate backwoods creature-freaks when it's not for an essay and a nice lil' red-stamped "yes!" and a finger in hole, that the deep groan and hatred down in your Soul is real and will serve as your Family Entertainment one day, that it's all about getting your sick pink cocks wet, that nobody reads your college essays, that the men in suits in the white office bulbs already know your social security number and the whole culture is filed. We all know you ASB motherfuckers are glory-holed cocksucking cultist pricks, cliqued-up barbeque useless nothings with an heir of purpose and you know it too -- but you keep it up 'cause it kinda feels nice. Well, I'll say it now -- fuck Mr. Stephens, fuck AHS, fuck ASB, fuck Mr. Misel, God Save Kyle Baker, fuck teachers who repeat their schpeels and mechanical jokes for each class and don't listen, fuck CA standards and the limitations set on learning, fuck multiple choice tests and memorization vs. knowledge and discussion, fuck robots, fuck not having a corpus callosum (4.5 monglers who sip,) fuck anybody who "hated" Corpus Callosum, fuck E. Kuper and arrogance in generel, fuck the Big Scene, fuck Christmas cards that show the family decked-out in their college gear as if those two-colored boring cursive thread Nothing stands for something Greater than just a building which you hung out at for four years, fuck the radio, fuck these weird princesses that churn out shit and infect our newspapers, fuck the news stations not documenting the WAR, fuck anybody down with murder, fuck assumptions and Senora Wallace and the eraser burns, fuck all you fake Peter Pans, fuck you little pirates who memorize the phrases and crumble in conversation when I bend yo mind, Smash Yo Scene, fuck all you lost bro-ho furry SWAT freckle drunk sluts I pray for your tired lives, fuck the bullshit movies that you pigs are pumping wide-eyed children who don't know any better like sister full of, fuck all these fantasy books with talking bears and bows and arrows and shit Bring Us Literature, fuck tired hick racist bullshit I Want J.F.K., fuck blind faith, fuck people who despise religion, fuck people who vote in accordance to financial benefit and justify it by becoming a Right-Wing religious zealot propheteer, fuck illiterate assholes, fuck the soldiers out there doing the first-hand murder, fuck the bumper-sticker monsters supporting these folks, fuck day care and working parents who aren't home, fuck false Disney divorced families in their little newww-age Modern systems that make broken homes seem normal, fuck psychologists who raise their eyebrows, fuck walkers who bow their heads and don't say "hi" back, fuck gossippy bullshit, fuck anybody who blames a child for anything, fuck the sore losers and the fat winners, fuck the government, fuck money and fuck the Material World."
r.i.p.
First off, I'd like to say that I think Rado's idea to post a shitty twenty-second clip of trashed footage of Maggie Anderson on a blog that nobody reads is a brilliant, courteous and honorary way of saying, "Sorry for completely nixing you out of a role, your hopes, your dreams and your gas money." I think that she will truly be uplifted and will truly give a fuck. And as for my cut scene -- it's not like we should put it on the DVD or anything, the footage only being my most hysterical, genius Golden and most importantly sexy shirtless performance since the bathtub implied-masturbation scene in Ryan Schwartz's UNDERAPPRECIATED Oak Park nightmare art film California Eddie.
Which leads us to Katherine Combs, whom Rado and the gang want to play Maggie's right-hand woman; yes, Katherine is a great actress and a "joy to work work" (suit pig talk) as I can vouch acting alongside her in Eddie, but the beauty of the character Rado wrote is in her mellowed-Maggie pop culture prowess which would be both sexy and funny coming from a female who looks like any average tween bop (Bailey, for example, filled in and read the part at the read-through and I thought she was fucking great,) but could easily be blackened/ruined by a chick who already is a pop culture vampire priestess such as Katherine who is dominant and towering (http://www.kanankids.com/.) Not to say that Katherine's text to Bryan wasn't both reassuring and Biblical in its epic-ness:
"I'm drunk and studying my part
I work in mysterious ways
I am not God
And therefore
will not fail you."
The only reason I could tolerate her playing the role is because of this magic. This is genius and beautiful. Fuck it, fuck it fuck it. Katherine Combs all the way. What a fucking magnificent person.
"There -- I have illustrated the contradiction I am famous for. Yes. I have sincerely just changed my mind 100 percent and completely gone against the argument I was making when I started this entry! (good?) It wasn't even on purpose and all the while it was so on purpose. Is this mental illness? Insanity? Simple-mindedness? Sanity?! When does it end? I just wanna take my prizes. (click.) I'm not a free-soul spirit shaker, i'm tellin' you -- I want what's mine, I'm greedy and mean, I swear. (You don't understand.) The book-movie life is not mine, (I never even liked castles,) my dad uses Xacto knives instead of scissors, I don't want your colors to be mine, and I never asked for this. Compartamentalize and all that, and John Garcia. (woosh.) And (he wrote such a great poem sophomore year, i loved it. it was about a guy from Michigan who just loses his kids and his money and stuff and just drives in this bumpy red car just 'a bumpin' along singing about his hardships. the picture was colored pencil and wobbly, real gone stuff you remember.) john raises his hand and everybody waits for the biting cold stuff he spills -- too cold and overcooked, but still scary and motivating. guy has green guts. he really pulls it off. I mean, everybody "pulls it off," right? We just do what we feel we need to do, and sometimes folks nod and sometimes they shake their heads and sometimes they do cartwheels but at the end of the day we all just want a full belly and a little bit of love. Fuck all you black-death hater-warriors. You have friends, so I know you know love. Smile, smile. Whenever I get a fever I smile and my headache lessens. Frown, frown. We are at war, our planet is dead, polluted destroyed massmedia burning plastic pornographic television-machines kill, kill, kill. THERE IS NO DOVE. THERE IS NO HARMONY; no music. What can we do but huddle around, cold? Is that shared misery -- people freezing and miserable tryin' to get warm with their bodies -- love? Or is the real love when you get up, stand up and play the french horn and/or trumpet through the madness? Or is it both? And does it matter? And if it does, why? And if not, why not? And if so, why not not?"
*France then takes a humble drag off his cigarette, sips his black coffee and closes eyes and folds his arms. His self-consciousness is obvious, (he is looking for something -- trying -- trying to get comfortable --) and his friendliness with me has faded noticably since I first began the interview.*
CONT.: "We all know who's set up for failure and who's not. Let's be real. We all know they just pump out proportionate SAT scores in accordance to our GPAs, that you Box motherfuckers write like illiterate backwoods creature-freaks when it's not for an essay and a nice lil' red-stamped "yes!" and a finger in hole, that the deep groan and hatred down in your Soul is real and will serve as your Family Entertainment one day, that it's all about getting your sick pink cocks wet, that nobody reads your college essays, that the men in suits in the white office bulbs already know your social security number and the whole culture is filed. We all know you ASB motherfuckers are glory-holed cocksucking cultist pricks, cliqued-up barbeque useless nothings with an heir of purpose and you know it too -- but you keep it up 'cause it kinda feels nice. Well, I'll say it now -- fuck Mr. Stephens, fuck AHS, fuck ASB, fuck Mr. Misel, God Save Kyle Baker, fuck teachers who repeat their schpeels and mechanical jokes for each class and don't listen, fuck CA standards and the limitations set on learning, fuck multiple choice tests and memorization vs. knowledge and discussion, fuck robots, fuck not having a corpus callosum (4.5 monglers who sip,) fuck anybody who "hated" Corpus Callosum, fuck E. Kuper and arrogance in generel, fuck the Big Scene, fuck Christmas cards that show the family decked-out in their college gear as if those two-colored boring cursive thread Nothing stands for something Greater than just a building which you hung out at for four years, fuck the radio, fuck these weird princesses that churn out shit and infect our newspapers, fuck the news stations not documenting the WAR, fuck anybody down with murder, fuck assumptions and Senora Wallace and the eraser burns, fuck all you fake Peter Pans, fuck you little pirates who memorize the phrases and crumble in conversation when I bend yo mind, Smash Yo Scene, fuck all you lost bro-ho furry SWAT freckle drunk sluts I pray for your tired lives, fuck the bullshit movies that you pigs are pumping wide-eyed children who don't know any better like sister full of, fuck all these fantasy books with talking bears and bows and arrows and shit Bring Us Literature, fuck tired hick racist bullshit I Want J.F.K., fuck blind faith, fuck people who despise religion, fuck people who vote in accordance to financial benefit and justify it by becoming a Right-Wing religious zealot propheteer, fuck illiterate assholes, fuck the soldiers out there doing the first-hand murder, fuck the bumper-sticker monsters supporting these folks, fuck day care and working parents who aren't home, fuck false Disney divorced families in their little newww-age Modern systems that make broken homes seem normal, fuck psychologists who raise their eyebrows, fuck walkers who bow their heads and don't say "hi" back, fuck gossippy bullshit, fuck anybody who blames a child for anything, fuck the sore losers and the fat winners, fuck the government, fuck money and fuck the Material World."
r.i.p.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Here's Another One, Jon! : The two shoots that went to hell.
As you might or might not know, as we started production on "Here's Another One, Jon!", Maggie Anderson was cast as the female lead, Maggie Marshall. She was constantly in the production and out of it, mainly (entirely) because she goes to college in Santa Cruz and filming was near impossible. We DID, however, have one shoot with her -- and not a bad one at that. It took place on a beach while Maggie and Bendis walk and talk. All-one-shot bullshit.
Because I feel horrible about completely nixing her from the production, I plan (in the near future) to post that scene on here ss an homage to the wonderful and charming enigma that is Maggie Anderson.
I might also post the previously mentioned "Peter Apple drug dealer" scene as an homage to the lameness and crustiness of Sam France.
Also --
Some production stills will be up here, too.
Whatever.
Nobody's ever going to read this besides Sam.
Fuck it.
--Rado.
Because I feel horrible about completely nixing her from the production, I plan (in the near future) to post that scene on here ss an homage to the wonderful and charming enigma that is Maggie Anderson.
I might also post the previously mentioned "Peter Apple drug dealer" scene as an homage to the lameness and crustiness of Sam France.
Also --
Some production stills will be up here, too.
Whatever.
Nobody's ever going to read this besides Sam.
Fuck it.
--Rado.
"A Return To Earth, Revelations, Head" by Sam France
I just read the stoned theoretical social essay I wrote this morning below. I realize now that no real substance concerning any sort of HAOJ production is really even mentioned, though it's quite possibly the worst/best work of literature since the reading comprehension sections of the 2004 STAR test ("Boar Out There,"Chinese Dollmaking," "Dog Day Care," etc.) And I'm still sitting in school with a shitload of work to do that's breathing and grinning at me and giving my brain an indian burn/noogie. Plus, Carrie the ex-crackhead is sleeping on some sick red Japanese mattress she found in here, Christopher on solitaire and Katie just bopping around being a person and I can't take it, I gotta get my eyes off that and breathe, breathe. keep yer eye on the ball. ignore this terrible drug. (?) So I'll dig deep into the brainz-steeeem and recall the shoots 'cause that's what you want you little mountain climbing american teenage pesticides. r.i.p. every fly who cried. I am the gravedigger.
The first shoot was the infamous Peter Apple-as-drug-dealer scene. This was pre-rehab fer me, (thinkin' I'd be shipped off fer years) and so I humbly took a cameo and improvised some genius shit in my kitchen-transformed into a frightening meth lab -- Johnny Lash and (Bendis, tagging along,) looking to buy some weed and witnessing a strung-out Peter shooting up, cooking shit, screaming in and out of demented panic, ravaging around and eventually leaving the boys with a huge bag of free kush in a schizophrenic stupor. The footage allegedly "looked like shit," and Peter needed a bigger role anyways, so that's in the trash bin. oh, well! (hahaha oh jeezus lord almighty hahah.) Hooray for C-Dave with a bunch of machines, monitors, lights and Gooty showing up looking confused and tons of wires and electric money. Oh, well. I do this for the Love. Dude, I'm barely in the fucking movie. What the fuck am I doing.
Next shoot was Mike and Rado in a car. I wasn't there but I smoked the leftover cigarettes.
Next shoot was Maggie's room at the Callas abode. I gave Rado a bunch of shit for stuttering through his lines and looked like an asshole. I left and talked to Katie Felber about panoon and other philosophical mind-candy. Already been over the rainy smokers' lounge. Sarah Finlayson is sexy. We took Mike's door off to roll a dolly. Mike was antsy and pissy. Sam is a great actress. I'm a great actor. All in all, my life sucks.
r.i.p. Sam France already
The first shoot was the infamous Peter Apple-as-drug-dealer scene. This was pre-rehab fer me, (thinkin' I'd be shipped off fer years) and so I humbly took a cameo and improvised some genius shit in my kitchen-transformed into a frightening meth lab -- Johnny Lash and (Bendis, tagging along,) looking to buy some weed and witnessing a strung-out Peter shooting up, cooking shit, screaming in and out of demented panic, ravaging around and eventually leaving the boys with a huge bag of free kush in a schizophrenic stupor. The footage allegedly "looked like shit," and Peter needed a bigger role anyways, so that's in the trash bin. oh, well! (hahaha oh jeezus lord almighty hahah.) Hooray for C-Dave with a bunch of machines, monitors, lights and Gooty showing up looking confused and tons of wires and electric money. Oh, well. I do this for the Love. Dude, I'm barely in the fucking movie. What the fuck am I doing.
Next shoot was Mike and Rado in a car. I wasn't there but I smoked the leftover cigarettes.
Next shoot was Maggie's room at the Callas abode. I gave Rado a bunch of shit for stuttering through his lines and looked like an asshole. I left and talked to Katie Felber about panoon and other philosophical mind-candy. Already been over the rainy smokers' lounge. Sarah Finlayson is sexy. We took Mike's door off to roll a dolly. Mike was antsy and pissy. Sam is a great actress. I'm a great actor. All in all, my life sucks.
r.i.p. Sam France already
Entry One: "The Road Thus Far And All That" by Sam France
Well, well. Rado's weak little script has morphed into a multi-million dollar explosion, and the cast read-through of the revised and final version of the "Here's Another One, Jon!" screenplay in the Callas garage was truly immaculate and salty. Chainsmoking American Spirits blues, garage grime, smoke dancing gray into pinball light next to a Very Pink and Very Smiley collection of Taryn Hurlbuts who tagged along to eat that good shit, that homeliness, that grime off the Cool Drama Kidz scene in a world of meetings in J-2 and chairs and carpet that was previosuly cold but, now, with the bleeding creeping of reasonable drug use, honesty, creativity and the long-expected Fuck It attitude of new-age lurkers like Sam Hertz, Auddy Kearns, MikeyCal, Sam France, Rado, B-Felbz, Ekul and first-time actress and indie-pop ballerina fur-huntress Ariana Dewing, the sheer Now-ness, Ultimate Truth and Genuine Humor of Rado's screenplay was so thick you could suck it, taste it and even shake your fist at it. Sure, Rado's script is chalk-full of the little ramen-y pop clicker brown squeezy references, real words -- that smart, cute and sharp humor that is not handed on a school bus to Doppelganger/Agoura scooty moms because (A.) His script covers not only This generation's cultural nooks and crannies but also displays a Wonderful universal sense of the past -- a better recollection of 60's, 70's pop culture than Doppel Moms who saw it firsthand can pinpoint, thus sneaking into their whole "Oh, those craaaaaaaaaazy 70's!" older generation giggly best-kept secret and revealing them all as frauds and (B.) messes with their desperate need to feel that high school is this colourful drama stage of This Group and That Event where Enlightenment can be reached with the winning of a girlfriend, (or the awwe-realization TWIST that she just wasn't his type, she was a bitch anyways and that tomboyish best friend who was there for all the hurricanes is still waiting, standing alone all dirted up with seaweed in her hair and though no emotional involvement ever existed before, after the turn and chaos of the protagonist's struggle and Grand Realization she just looks so golden all muddy...) or an understanding friend, or a cast of rainbow-clad hoppers who know of drugs, (for that is fine, I mean Knowledge is power baby go go go go) but let all the weed and shit be scrounged up by "stoners" and weirdos so wrapped thick in smoke and brain damage that it is no longer human but funny -- the actual physical reality of a nug of herb in a glass pipe is impossible, too personal -- the sensation of drugs in these Doppel student films is floaty and removed and psychedelic, characterized by smoke, posters and dirty kidz or perhaps a joint, for what is a joint but another character, another piece of bread. No, Rado's script dares to go outide the High School World and document high school humans -- I remember discussing with Rado, pre-script, how we should just make a movie about the Character Rado -- the picky, Woody Allen deli-hopping record collecting mess and throwing him into a love story. (Everybody knows that this Rado was washed away during the past year and a half by my humbling and Rado became somewhat adventurous.) Still, no scenes take place on a school campus but in restaurants and delis and at houses and brings you into Rado's life, my life, our Culture and the things we like but keeps it all grounded with a love story that is not typical only in the sense that Maggie and Bendis meet, dig each other, towards-the-end-before-eternal-embrace-conflict-less and that's it. Dialogue-driven, no pastel indie slow-mo bullshit -- just humanity.
Wonderful script aside, I'm pissy about the fact that the Peter Apple (me) character was basically converted to the Johnny Lash (Mike) character on account of my outdated boarding school plans, and now all of Mike's lines are things I've basically fucking said in real life. Rado slipped back in a Peter Apple role, but it's small and pretty fucking insignificant and pops up only here and there. (Not to blame anyone -- it's nobody's fault.) Whatever. Take, take.
Filming will get it moving; we just shot the scene in which Bendis and Maggie have a lil' makeout sesh in Maggie's room and, of course, I was a third wheel in that heat of tracks and all sorts of Austin Kearns poeple holding lights and doing makeup just shocked by the brilliance and brightness of the previsouly unknown Sam Hertz smiling up the place. She's just this new American princess -- the kind everybody just kinda tilts their head at, wide-eyed, astonished by her sexyness but altogether religiosuly lifted by her general goodness and, in the end, badassery. Anyways, I ditched that magic for and had a cigarette outside in the storm with Sasha Stock, Jackie Cohen and Katie Felbs as we all languidly melted into the ground in the sudden realization that we were all un-needed, unhinged, drowing and headed straight for the gallows.
Wonderful script aside, I'm pissy about the fact that the Peter Apple (me) character was basically converted to the Johnny Lash (Mike) character on account of my outdated boarding school plans, and now all of Mike's lines are things I've basically fucking said in real life. Rado slipped back in a Peter Apple role, but it's small and pretty fucking insignificant and pops up only here and there. (Not to blame anyone -- it's nobody's fault.) Whatever. Take, take.
Filming will get it moving; we just shot the scene in which Bendis and Maggie have a lil' makeout sesh in Maggie's room and, of course, I was a third wheel in that heat of tracks and all sorts of Austin Kearns poeple holding lights and doing makeup just shocked by the brilliance and brightness of the previsouly unknown Sam Hertz smiling up the place. She's just this new American princess -- the kind everybody just kinda tilts their head at, wide-eyed, astonished by her sexyness but altogether religiosuly lifted by her general goodness and, in the end, badassery. Anyways, I ditched that magic for and had a cigarette outside in the storm with Sasha Stock, Jackie Cohen and Katie Felbs as we all languidly melted into the ground in the sudden realization that we were all un-needed, unhinged, drowing and headed straight for the gallows.
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