SPECIAL EDITION WRITING TIPS

Over the years, the Indiana Jones franchise has taught us how to build pacing and dramatic tension in storytelling. Unfortunately, the new lessons from the latest outing are of what NOT to do, which is truly tragic considering the storied history of its predecessors.

I will try not to dwell on my firm belief that Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is the sole perpetration of one George Lucas hiding behind the names of Stephen Spielberg and David Koepp, careful not to garner further negativity in the piecing back together of his reputation.

Spielberg and Koepp are both far too intelligent and accomplished to be responsible for the dreck of a motion picture this turned out to be. Whatever Lucas has on them, however, seems to work as they are taking responsibility, leaving filmmaking’s answer to Darth Vader with nothing but a co-story development nod… I guess reputations need not be worried about when you’re taking the rap for a man as powerful as Lucas.

But fans aren’t stupid.

The current 64% Tomato-meter reading on Rotten Tomatoes says it all. Common filmgoers for whom these movies exist are, for the most part, disappointed, and they’re blaming Lucas more than any of the rest of the triumvirate. In case you haven’t been to school in a while, a 64% translates to a D on the trusty report card. Hardly something those of us with parents or ambition care to take home to mother.

After 19 years, one would think the premise could have more creativity behind it, and those responsible for creating the character in the first place would be getting wiser, not dumber. But alas, it takes only 10-15 minutes of the new installment for fans to realize age does not necessarily bring wisdom… yes, sometimes we get stupider.

This brings us to our lesson for today – how to keep credibility in your fiction. A series such as Indiana Jones brings with it tons of fun, out-of-this-world excitement. The first time around we had the lost Ark of the Covenant; the second time it was the sacred Sankara stones; the third it was the Holy Grail; and this time, it’s the crystal skulls of unknown origin.

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of these prized objects as the focal point of their stories, and in the previous three cases, execution was pitch-perfect. But ten minutes into Crystal Skulls, I was rolling my eyes, shaking my head, and giving up on any hopes that it would turn out decent.

How come?

After all, I love the Indiana Jones character. I was prepared to forgive any shortcoming (within reason) this film might have, deciding that I would ultimately like it even if I had to make myself. Truthfully, expectations were low after seeing the preview, but I was still convinced there would be enough of good old Indy present to win me over. Unfortunately, those dreams were fried the minute Dr. Jones stepped into a lead-lined refrigerator, which subsequently crash-landed after being airlifted hundreds of feet by the blast. As if Indiana Jones could have survived the blast itself in his lead box, the crash landing would have killed him.

The scene completely defies every law of physics, and leaves viewers wondering what the hell they’ve just witnessed. Is the close-up on LEAD-LINED supposed to compensate for the fact that Indiana Jones falls a minimum of ten stories in a hard, rickety box, and walks away with nary a scratch on him?

Lucas and Spielberg claim they set out to make a 50’s sci-fi type B-movie, but they did so using a character grounded in reality by his previous adventures with the one small exception that he’s limited by age. Also, the environment is subject to 1950’s history, knowledge, and technology, meaning some ground rules apply to fantasy elements.

The atom bomb, we know through history, was powerful enough to obliterate two enormous cities and cause years of suffering to follow once inflicted on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, yet Indiana Jones is near the point of impact and survives within the confines of his flying fridge after plummeting hundreds of feet to earth.

Mutt Williams (Shia LaBeouf) is knocked off an elevated road in the thick of the jungle, where he manages to catch on to a dangling vine, which is certainly possible… but to hit it with just the right amount of momentum to swing to the next and the next and the next strategically placed vines via hokey CGI idiocy? Please.

In the past, Indy would get in to some pickles, but there was always a plausible way out that led to some thrilling escape, expertly photographed with the best technology currently available to convince us he just did exactly what it looked like he did, creating the necessary suspension of disbelief so we can accept the story.

Not so here. This is the worst of the worst, and while CGI is hardly a factor in writing, it reminds us here that our audiences are comprised of people… real living, breathing, people, the simplest of whom are still complex creatures. You do something stupid like what is seen here, and rather than be thrilled, they’ll feel insulted.

When writing a work of fiction, whether grounded in reality or floating in the clouds of make-believe, remember your environment carries with it certain ground rules. You can obviously get away with more in a futuristic setting. But when it takes place on planet Earth, certain limits must never be broached.

The audience knows this world. They live in it. Don’t try to set your story in their world, and then tell them certain common sense rules don’t apply. If you do, they may not hate you for it, but your story won’t be so lucky… of course, if you’ve already got a franchise of three spectacular and successful films with over 25 years of history behind them, feel free to ignore all my advice and keep doing things your way. Audiences will continue to check out your morbid curiosities.

For the rest of you, stick to the ground rules, and maybe you’ll one day arrive at a $311 million worldwide box office? Until then, focus on good storytelling, and realize that not all make-believe is make-believe.

Few films from the horror genre terrorize their viewers like this graphic, deliberately paced gem from director Takashi Miike. AUDITION shifts from first to fifth gears without warning and leaves you feeling somewhat deceived by what you've witnessed. However, the change is intentional and the result is one of the best recent horror efforts on any level AND in any country.

It starts with Aoyama (a widowed TV producer) holding mock auditions for Mrs. Right at the behest of his best friend. The role is for the lead in a fictitious network production. Asami is a mysterious young lady, who hopes to land the part, but ends up capturing the real role instead. These two people share equally traumatic histories, but different forces of nature bring out their back-stories. Aoyama lost his wife to sickness. Asami survived something much more sinister. For a moment, it seems the two may have actually found happiness in each other - until Miike forces us to see the world from a heinous reality as we enter Asami's past and learn in mercilessly visceral fashion the woman she is and how she came to be.

As social commentary, the Asami character should be admired for her strength of will and utter disregard for resignation. While on the surface she seems like an afterthought, she proves herself capable of living in a man's world and making it her own. She has many layers, but as each one peels away, we're left with an uglier, more aggressive truth. She's a survivor. Even a predator. One example of this is the gruesome surprise Asami has stored away in a burlap bag on the floor of her apartment. She's obviously no stranger to the ability of taking powerful men and reducing them to mindless, tormented shells that would lick a bowl of her own vomit if she sat it down in front of them (unfortunately, I'm being quite literal). In fact, the men in her life have a history of holding great power, only to have her assume brutal control when she grows fearful they'll one day tire of her and say good-bye.

At the film's outset, there's something very bothersome about the actions of the male characters. Putting women in a competition against one another for the affections of one man is pompous, and Aoyama's agreement to the process shows a dark side to his human decency. However, it's difficult to see his inevitable suffering as an even trade. He is a man, and he has agreed to something chauvinistic, but his underlying interests are both well intentioned and externally motivated by his other more secure male counterparts (namely two, his best friend and teenage son). What makes Aoyama's foolish choice to play along so forgivable is his vulnerability. In a way, he's as victimized by his own gender as his female cohorts. He rushes into the decision to have an audition because of pressures forced upon him to move on when perhaps he's not quite ready to do so. He shares qualities likened traditionally to women, thus the conflict between his own masculinity and the ideals of those he trusts are thrust against his more feminine nature. He's kind, sensitive, nurturing and ready for commitment after many agonizing years alone, with nothing but the upbringing of his son to quench the thirst for companionship. The crux of the film's events all rest on this one decision Aoyama makes to follow his friend's idea and his son's "move-on-with-your-life" encouragement down a very dark road from which he may never return.

Guiding Aoyama on his terrifying journey is Asami, one of the most fascinating female leads to grace the horror genre since Jessica Walter's turn as Evelyn Draper in Clint Eastwood's too-often-overlooked PLAY MISTY FOR ME. However, these two homicidal characters are far from alike. Draper was more of a thickheaded, proud, obsessive psychopath, while Asami's straightforward neurological misfires can be largely attributed to abuse, neglect and a perpetual fear of loneliness. Neither woman is someone you'd want to meet at the local bar or dance hall, but they have distinguishing human characteristics, agitated to an insatiable degree by their perceptions of what men do to them. In PLAY MISTY FOR ME, you never really get a clear picture of what caused the imbalance in Draper's head. AUDITION is not quite so viewer-friendly, and the explicit details work to build sympathy for the destructive Asami. Her heartbreaking life mixes with the meekness of Aoyama to put the viewer on a collision course with tragedy. And with a gruesome, intense final 35 minutes, what a tragedy it is!

It's very hard to imagine an American version of AUDITION succeeding on the same levels. Hopefully, we'll never be subjected to such an attempt. Ultimately, this film wins out because of what it has to say instead of what it has to show. There is graphic, leave-nothing-to-your-imagination violence here, but the social commentaries and vivid characterizations make these depictions of brutality all the more compelling. Such a notion is lost on domestic, watered-down horror. Whether this film is making a statement about male and female roles in society, relating to anyone who's ever experienced a bad break-up, or wrenching your gut with raw, unequaled, blood-soaked horror, AUDITION, like its female star, is a film with layers, surprises and ferocity.