“[Immigration reform] has nothing to do with race, with country of origin, with ethnicity. Nothing. It is an American issue. It’s citizenship that is under attack.”

“If what he means by that (is) we represent a threat to the culture of this country, then he is right because we’re gonna change it. We’re gonna do what every major immigrant wave has done. We’re gonna make it dynamic. We’re gonna create a whole new America.”

Official Website: How Democracy Works Now

Journalism can make us care — or
it can numb us to human suffering.

China is a major fixation in my imagination, but this fascination doesn’t help much. I keep stacking away essentials to to-read shelves. China Wakes is an excellent exception. It just happens to be a terrific book by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn.

Today I got up from my bed to the news from Southern California Public Radio on which I chanced upon this thought-provoking interview on journalism and compassion:

Journalism can make us care — or it can numb us to human suffering. Nicholas Kristof’s columns in The New York Times wrap hard news inside human stories with broad appeal. He discusses the lessons of his life covering some of the worst atrocities in the world, and how he draws on insights of neuroscience to pierce through compassion fatigue.

While I was listening to this fine interview by Krista Tippett, it occurred to me that I have simply stopped following news from Iraq, Afghanistan and Sudan. Though I do read stories about individuals and show interest in mostly development news, I try hard not to ignore mentions of massacres and genocides. I didn’t know this was common even among journalists and writers who are supposed to stay involved with serious issues of our times: most people share this ‘compassion fatigue.’ By telling individual stories of people, Nicholas Kristof believes we can generate empathy among our newsreaders towards issues that might seem beyond their control, but are actually not.

Over the years, I have tried hard to change the way I look at violence, its causes and aftermaths. Barbara Ehrenreich’s gripping account of origins and history of the institutionalization of violence and war in Blood Rites has been a great help in my attempt to understand the real cultural, psychological, subconscious or scientific causes of violence. As I write, I still struggle with the fact that war and violence is a constant in our world. More recently, I tried to go through Steven Pinker’s The Better Angels of Our Nature, a terrible polemic about the seeming decline of violence in our age. I just couldn’t read it. It was badly written, and somehow just totally unconvincing.

There must be a term for ‘grievance fatigue,’ which is the only reason why I find it hard to blog these days. This post actually grew from a tweet that couldn’t fit in 140 characters no matter how much I tried to cut or edit it, and all that I was trying to say is that good writing is good story-telling. And if you’re like me, who still can’t forego that strong desire to change the world, you’ve got to tell stories.

Also published on mFC on Jan 6, 2012

The last day of December demands introspection, and I sense a now all-too-familiar pressure to choose the right words for this end note. The year on the calendar upsets my plans. These plans have now become ‘old plans’; plans that stopped my time a long ago. And to watch Frank Capra now means to freeze this time even further.

Capra’s world is the one of hope—often, the oldest hopes of man. There’s a childlike simplicity that characterizes these men. His women are strong-willed and independent. In this world the greatest villain is self-centeredness. Honesty and kindness come across as something worth striving for, and because you want to believe so. ‘Be nice.’ ‘Be good.’ That seems to be at the heart of his best-known films: It Happened One Night (1934), Mr Deeds Goes to Town (1936), Lost Horizon (1937), Mr Smith Goes to Washington (1939) and Meet John Doe (1941), among others.

Screenwriter Robert Riskin with director Frank Capra

It’s a shocking discovery then: the voice in these films doesn’t belong to its director Frank Capra. This voice that we admire so much belongs to the writer of his films who could sympathize with the underdogs, who sailed the boats for Columbus but never got their due share of credit or recognition. Sadly, his partnership with the writer of his best films, Robert Riskin, can be described as the relationship that D.B. Norton had with John Doe in Meet John Doe.

Even the choice of the title of Frank Capra’s autobiography, The Name Above The Title, clearly propels his reckless attitude. The star director refused to visit the lowly writer who was slowly dying in a hospital. Throughout his life, Capra attempted to shroud the genius of the great scenarist. The truth is that Capra eschewed the funeral of a man whose creative vision and distinct voice was widely mistaken to be Capra’s own. Nothing could be more ironical for the man who reaffirms the Christian doctrine of forgiveness in his works.

Robert Riskin seems to have no problem with accepting the true nature of the director-writer relationship in the studio era. Riskin helped to set up the Screen Writers’ Guild and fought as a screenwriter for the screenwriters, and the fight still continues. Riskin needed Capra as much as Capra needed him, or any writer needs a director unless they are both one. The collaboration, between the man with an idea and the man with the means to sustain it, couldn’t be less lopsided:

                        JOHN DOE

Do you mean to tell me you’d try to kill the John Doe movement
if you can’t use it to get what you want?

                      D.B. NORTON

You bet your bottom dollar we would!

Such a reading of Meet John Doe’s text then adds an autobiographical quality, on Riskin’s part, to this last collaboration. And it seems Meet John Doe is nothing short of a triumph of Riskin the individual over Capra the institution. Yet it cannot be denied that the brief marriage between Riskin’s idealism and Capra’s pragmatism was responsible for the birth of some of the finest classics in Hollywood.

In the beginning of the last year or was it the year before that, I left the oblivion of a film that I had co-written to return to the oblivion of advertising. The oblivion grows on you, no matter whether you’re a director-in-the-making or a director who’s made many films.  Capra did his best films with Riskin, and Riskin did his with Capra. On the first viewing, a Capra film is a dialog film—hence a Riskin film. It’s all drama, and then when you keep playing back your favorite scenes over and again, you begin to notice the mise-en-scène. Capra clearly knew how to translate the text on to the silver screen, and all so well. Only if he were less ‘mean.’

 ***

Postscript from In Capra’s Shadow: The Life and Career of Screenwriter Robert Riskin by Ion Scott:

Jo Swerling, a mutual friend and colleague of Riskin and Capra, and himself a wonderful Hollywood screenwriter, once paced around Riskin’s wheelchair while he was ill, complaining that Capra’s reluctance to visit his old friend was just not right. In the end, however, Riskin lost his temper with Swerling and revealed a deep-seated loyalty to his former partner by dismissing what seemed to be a reasonable claim with the comment, “You’re talking about my best friend.”

Co.Exist editor, Morgan Clendaniel, writes that companies that aren’t making a difference—to the world and to consumers—aren’t going to be around much longer. Instead of just making your product incrementally better than the competitor, you need to create impact.

Also read Three keys for moving beyond branding, and into storytelling.

The truth about social advertising & how to get more for your spending
It pains me to see how a great idea is being crushed under the weight of unsympathetic brand managers. It is sad when you’ve to cook up feel-good stories when the original idea—if executed right— could produce real, outstanding results.

Key to Social Advertising

Social advertising isn’t for people looking for short-term goals. If the primary focus of your social advertising campaign is your brand, but not the social cause which you pretend to espouse, you shouldn’t expect your advertising money to produce the kind of results that you want. A brand can’t leverage from the social advertising if it fails to bring out the merits of the original idea—which is often the case with brands that solely focus on chasing that magic number.

Social advertising is worth your advertising money if your goal is to build long-term relationships with the people who buy your products. The truth is that social advertisingisn’t advertising per se. We should think of social advertising as philanthropy, and then make our campaign strategies accordingly. We shouldn’t be afraid to project the people who buy our product as the heroes of our social advertising campaign. If they aren’t the real heroes of your campaign, it’s unlikely that your brand would emerge as the winner.

Paul talks about The Book. The Book has all the theorems of Mathematics. Theorems can be proved in a lot of different ways but in the Book, there is only one proof. And it is the one that is the clearest proof; the one that gives the most insight: the most aesthetic proof. It’s what he calls the Book Proof. And sometimes when there is a problem and when somebody solves it and the proof is not so beautiful, then he’ll say, “Well okay, let’s look for the Book Proof. Let’s try to find the Book Proof.” And this is the sense of Mathematics that the Book is there. The theorems have an existence of their own. And what we are doing is we are just trying to uncover; we are trying to read the pages of the Book. We don’t create Mathematics. What we do is, we read the pages of the Book. We discover the pages of the Book.

So when he goes from university to university and when he talks about problems, he asks everybody to try to solve these problems, it doesn’t matter who solves the problem. It really doesn’t matter to him because all of us are in the same venture. We are all just trying to uncover the pages. And sometimes we succeed; sometimes we find these beautiful theorems.

- Attributed to Paul Erdös in N Is A Number

Maths can be very interesting: this was a major revelation. It was the only reason why I felt I shouldn’t leave the theatre without taking Takashi Koizumi’s autograph, after the screening of his movie, The Professor’s Beloved Equation, at the Mumbai Film Festival last year. When I had first seen Koizumi earlier that evening, I had made fun of him. He looked so much like Akira Kurosawa that I couldn’t stop telling people, “Look, Kurosawa is here!” Little did I know about his background – the fact that he had assisted Kurosawa in his later movies.

Last night after watching a documentary on Paul Erdös, it has become clear to me that Mathematics has a lot in common with Humanities. I lost interest in Maths during my final years at school since I hated memorising anything. The way we were taught made me to avoid school and later college. I always sought creative freedom and space for my imagination. Only in the past few years, I developed my own method of learning and I have started to see Maths as a liberating experience.

As a writer, you are always looking for ideas and solutions to meet the challenge of the writer’s life. Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running and V.S. Naipaul’s The Enigma of Arrival are two books that I have identified with the most. One more author that I turned towards earlier this year was Albert Einstein. His Ideas and Opinions is indispensable to those who are in the business of thinking different.

Updated: Dec 5, ’11

“History—a true, warts-and-all inquiry into the past—is a nuisance. So it should be no surprise that the ‘happily-ever-after’ pablum that passes as history in schools is, in the end, a lot like advertising. There is, however, a notable difference: Advertising is focused on the future, targeting our ever-increasing quest for the new. So while advertising aims to increase desire, this history (or pseudo-history) hopes to kill it. By decontextualizing events, by erasing competing arguments, by boring studentsto death, pseudo-history inspires nothing but a distaste for history. Therein lies a great irony, which we discuss elsewhere: History has become the least imaginative and most hated subjects taught in school precisely because it is so important.”

Full text @ Introduction: Advertising and the End of History by Carrie McLaren

Also watch Ken Robinson’s thought-provoking talks from TED:

“Who is the father of computer?” I asked my 9-year-old niece. “Charles Babbage,” she replied promptly. Then I asked her, “And who is the father of cinema?” “What is cinema?” the fourth grader asked me. “It’s the art of films,” I tried to explain but seeing the little girl perplexed, I changed the topic. We were soon talking about ants that had found their way into a cupboard where she had kept her candies.

The first thing that a man learns is the language of his people. The language of other arts is an acquired and a required skill. When I was in school, I learned about many great personalities but none of them were filmmakers. Why don’t we teach cinema to children? There is little evidence that we have understood this modern man’s expression. There are not many people who can ‘read’ films. Is this the reason why film history is still not a part of the school curriculum while other expressions are taught seriously?

There are not many people who can ‘read’ films. Is this the reason why film history is still not a part of the school curriculum while other expressions are taught seriously? I discovered the new language of cinema very late during my adolescence. If anything, the idiot box was just a major distraction until my discovery of the cinematic language came along with the discovery of P2P and bit torrents. I had only heard about Satyajit Ray until I was 18. The Apu Trilogy was my first download; The Bicycle Thief was second. Sadly, a majority of us are not unaware of the many potentials and powers of the cinematic medium. But I can at least feel satisfied that I’ve already started.

While Ray was a redefinition of what cinema could be, there was one film that just changed everything for me. I don’t know whom to thank for the inspiration or the creation of this great art form; cinema has no such patron deity. It is truly modern. But I worship Ingmar Bergman anyway; it was his persona, his partnership with cinematographer Sven Nykvist that convinced me that cinema is the art of all arts and it warrants a serious study like other ‘expressions.’

The technology that limited the faculty earlier is no longer an issue. The Kerala State Chalachitra Academy, for one in South Asia, has already taken steps to make cinema an integral part of the school curriculum. NJ Nair wrote in The Hindu this January that the academy has proposed teaching the aesthetics of cinema, the technical aspects of filmmaking, including cinematography, editing and sound recording, in the vocational higher secondary education.

“Students should have a serious approach to cinema and they should learn it like literature itself. While appreciating the intrinsic artistic worth of cinema, they should be able to make use of its employment potential too. Hence, we have mooted a serious study of the technical aspects at the higher secondary level,” the academy vice-chairman VK Joseph told the newspaper.

Ronald Bergman started a similar discussion on The Guardian blog. He writes: Schoolchildren should be taught how to “read” films just as they are taught to read literature. They should learn how films systematize time and space and communicate ideas and emotions; how the patterns and structures of film genres allow us to engage specific historical and social rituals; how different conceptions of film history can direct and shape our responses; how film theory is a pragmatic extension and intensification of our interactions with a film, formal, technical and empirical. They should learn how to explore films from different angles and cultural perspectives.

“Why is film history not taught to schoolchildren?” The question must have occurred to many in the later half of the last century. A majority of us might consider it too modern a notion for our country. All great art form is modern in the true sense. Some might call it a dangerous proposition. All art is dangerous. Before our children begin to ask the same question tomorrow, let’s acquaint ourselves with the art of films. Start “reading” them.

Audience Activity

A film, without any visible protagonist, plays with the audience and forces them to become active as the invisible protagonist. The audience feel s/he is there, s/he feels part of the story. Normally the audience can connect to the film through the characters playing on the screen, but is there any film that keeps the gap which only the audience would fill?

A discussion on interactivity in films on The Auteurs.

Excerpts:

The future looks promising for filmmakers who want to exploit whatever interactivity technology might offer.

But from the same thread that you suggested, I’d like to quote Patrick:

“I think that the interactivity of New Media is a false promise…. the game is rigged, and what is invited is not honest contemplation, but merely “figuring out the next movie”…. most games that I’m familiar with are, at heart, puzzles with actions to be “figured out.” I sincerely hope the day never comes when movies become interactive…. I don’t think motion pictures stand to gain anything via interactivity. I want To know that Hitchcock and David Lean and Tim Burton have made the choices (this is the Ebert argument that I think holds up.)…. and aren’t leaving it up to me to take the next step. But this isn’t to say I want them to do my thinking for me…. and this is where passivity comes into play. I think motion pictures are often a passive experience, but needn’t be, at the best they aren’t….. inviting critical thought is something that many of the best films do and rely on for their impact. But if a video game is active only because you move your thumbs about and figure out where the medipack is…. or even which corners you can go around in a game like Passages….. than this level of activity doesn’t seem to stretch far from passivity in a very meaningful way. I’ve no doubt that some games can give you a migraine thinking so hard about a given problem….. but by getting to move around on your own, I don’t see this as making you far more active than getting a migraine thinking about the issues and conundrums of a filmed narrative. It may take more active thought and hand-eye coordination to complete a task in a video game, but this thought is limited to the task at hand…. a great movie will give you opportunities to leave it behind and contemplate the world around you, which is a very active process, even if it isn’t interactive.”

Patrick does make a convincing argument. Is it interactivity in true sense? I’m trying to stick to the tradition (deciding the structure for the viewer without giving them you-can-choose options) while exploring new possibilities. However, what matters at the end of the day, is of course if you achieved your goal of telling a story and creating an impact best desired. I think it’s a tough call but this human desire to accomplish something unique and new probably drives all of us.

“Here’s a recent quote that I found: ‘we do not talk, we bludgeon one another with facts and theories gleaned from cursory readings of newspapers, magazines and digests,’. That was actually written in 1945 by Henry Miller, and I think it’s timely. I think what it says is that the world has been on its present course it’s on for a long time. People all over the world spend countless hours of their lives, every week, being fed entertainment in the form of movies, tv shows, newspapers, YouTube videos, the internet. And it’s ludicrous to believe that this stuff doesn’t alter our brains.

“And it’s also equally ludicrous to believe that at the very least this mass distraction and manipulation is not convenient for the people who are in charge. People are starving, they may not know it because they’re being fed mass produced garbage. The packaging is colourful and loud, but it’s produced in the same factories that make Pop Tarts and iPads, by people sitting around thinking ‘what can we do to get people to buy more of these?’.

“And they’re very good at their jobs. But that’s what it is you’re getting, because that’s what they’re making, they’re selling you something. And the world is built on this now, politics and government are built on this, corporations are built on this. Interpersonal relationships are built on this, and we’re starving, all of us, and we’re killing each other, and we’re hating each other, and we’re calling each other liars and evil because it’s all become marketing and we want to win because we’re lonely and empty and scared and we’re led to believe winning will change all that. But there is no winning.

“What can be done? Say who you are, really say it in your life and in your work. Tell someone out there who is lost, someone not yet born, someone who won’t be born for 500 years. Your writing will be a record of your time, it can’t help but be. But more importantly if you’re honest about who you are you’ll help that person be less lonely in their world because that person will recognise him or herself in you and that will give them hope. It’s done so for me, and I have to keep rediscovering it, its profound importance in my life. Give that to the world, rather than selling something to the world, don’t allow yourself to be tricked into thinking that the way things are is the way the world must work and that in the end selling is what everyone must do. Try not to.

“This is from ee cummings: ‘to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting’. The world needs you, it doesn’t need you at a party having read a book about how to appear smart at parties – these books exist, and they’re tempting – but resist falling into that trap, the world needs you at the party starting real conversations, saying ‘I don’t know,’ ….being kind. (link)

Resources Online:

On Charlie Rose (Part I & II) (17 min)
On Synecdoche, life, work (with Tom Tangney) (17 min)
On writing, television years (Thinktalk) (12 min)
Charlie Kaufman On Being — And Directing (NPR- audio) (30 min)

Read:

Wikipedia
Being Charlie Kaufman (Salon)
Interview with Kaufman (Bluntreview)
BFI – Screenwriters Lecture Series  (Close-Up Film)
Anurag Kashyap’s notes Kaufman’s master class

One day I was at my college, by chance, and saw a group of students hanging around the notice board. Some eyes were fixed on it. I hadn’t been around for three days three years ago, so wondered if there was anything of import. And there was!

A copy of my first published work was there on the notice board and I didn’t have a clue. The joy of announcing my ‘breakthrough’ was a moment I yenned for but couldn’t really experience. Then it became so ordinary a feeling, there was nothing special about it. I felt the same way when Barack Obama was elected the president of the United States. I had cold and my heart was hot and I forgot. And now it’s already time to get back to business…