At 6pm on September 15th, 2005, Diane Karagienakos and myself gave a well attended Made on Mac presentation at the San Francisco Apple Store.
In a little over an hour we covered all the trials and tribulation’s of this feature film project (to date) and fielded a myriad questions.
It was officially billed as:
Come Fly With Me Nude Making a film with no money, a lot of creativity, and a little help from your friends and Apple Computers: How the movie Come Fly With Me Nude was made using Macs at every stage of the production process – including screenwriting, scheduling, pre-production, publicity, production, and post production. (Made on a Mac)
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Dames Don’t Care Back in ’98 I was digging through a pile of old postcards when I found one for a somewhat obscure 1955 movie. The title, Dames Don’t Care, was so evocative that a complete roaring 30’s storey popped into my head, and here it is, all 120+ pages (and the postcard’s on the left):
Download the pdf version [here]
Or read on for the first five pages: Read the rest of this entry »
Xesque was originally written for Artist One, a local San Francisco based start-up production company. Sadly, like many spec scripts, it was never to be brought to life on the big (or even small screen).
The option has now lapsed. So perhaps it may now serve at least as an example or entertaining read.
The story is a pretty blatant rip-off of an early Professor Xavier (of X-men fame) comic strip. Here we first encounter a show-down between two individuals with super psychic powers. The idea was to start a series exploring what it would be like if normal people suddenly found themselves with super/mutant abilities. The last thing they’d probably do is dress in spandex, or otherwise draw attention to themselves.
The following is a short extract from the screenplay itself, the full version can be downloaded in PDF format here: Read the rest of this entry »
[Republished from GOING USA's November/December 2004 issue]
Fresh H1-B visa in my passport, I am delivered to SFO by Qantas. In a jet-lagged haze, I stare at a bank of cotton-wool cloud resting on the nearby hillside all the way to luggage claim. I drift through passport control and gathered my bags on autopilot. The smiling face of my agency rep snaps me into some near reality for as long as it takes to get into a waiting car. The short trip up the 101 and into down town San Francisco is in hyper-real, slow motion, as I make a poor effort at sustaining polite conversation with my driver.
Download the full PDF version here. (2.6MB)
Stereophonic Acrimonious Nudity START Bella Hagen and Dom Casual have been each other’s muse for a good many years, but it is only recently that this intimate, artistic support-group have grown beyond their subtle tacit singularities; Following near identical orbits around the body of California’s performance arts circuit; Disturbing Middle-America’s mental myopia with highly individual acts of auricular adversity. Since ’95 the sum became greater than the parts; The melding of man/woman, yin/yang became complete and “Come Fly With Me Nude” (CFWMN) was released upon a totally unsuspecting public. Continuing their unrelenting assault on the people of the world, they have now announced the imminent release of a new textual corroboration which promises to surpass all other literary works of recent times. So, who are these entities that have been likened to a tsunami of Byronian Ferlinghettis? How did they find each other, let alone themselves, amidst the detritus of pop USA? Wayward: What catalyst caused this big-bang? Bella: Its genesis was almost eerie. I was returning home from my Rolfing for Creative Personalities class, when I was struck by the beauty of the flowers outside a small florist. I was inspired to indulge myself, and couldn’t decide between the Phlox Drummondi and the Delphinium Consoldia. Now mind you, this struggle to choose was purely internal, I’d not vocalized my conflict, when this soothing voice behind me said “the Delphinium Consoldia.” I turned to see Dom standing there, nodding gently, assuredly. Of course I recognized him right away; who hasn’t seen his performance piece “I Miss Me”, and I knew he was right–about the flowers. But more important, he answered my questions, heard my thoughts, and completed my purchase. It was fate. Wayward: You were both held up as untouchable divas of the performance art world. What did you stand to gain by becoming a single amalgam? Dom: Neither gain nor loss was ever considered. We simply did what we had to do. What we were chosen to do. Bella: Actually, we have an affordable health plan available to us now. And we got a decent tax break. Wayward: What is your response to those people who would have your work banned and labeled as the worst form of gutter literature? Dom: First, we ask that they read it. Wayward: So, you deny that much of what you write is purely for shock value? Bella: I’ve never heard that before. We have been accused of writing purely for schlock value. Simply, we speak the truth. I suppose the truth is shocking to some. Wayward: Then you’re not just “riding the wave of controversy” and “exploiting sensationalism,” as the London Times reviewer states? Bella: That’s rather amusing. The New York Times said we were sensationalizing exploitation. Wayward: Is there any truth in the rumor that the PBS channel asked to produce a biographical documentary on you both and that you felt this to be a plot to trivialize your art? Dom: I don’t see how you could possibly trivialize it. Wayward: CFWMN seemed to pull on the apron strings of the past thirty years or so of US Pop culture. Does this make you the Bradys of poetry? Dom: My approach to writing more like that of Keith Partridge, and Bella is my erstwhile sister Laurie. More than a keyboardist: part Tracy, always ready with a tambourine. Wayward: The piece entitled “Come Fly With Me Nude, Santa” appears to be some sick sexual fantasy about a jolly, old, fat man. Surly there are greater depths here to be plumbed. Bella: No, we simply wanted to write a lighthearted, festive childrens poem for the holidays. Dom: We thought the children needed a voice. We wanted to crystallize how they really felt about Christmas. Wayward: So, the “Santa” here is more of a prototypical representation of the Satanic nature of Western materialism … Dom: Ask the children. Simply ask the children. Wayward: If you had to capture the essence of your work as a single image, what picture would you paint, who would be the artist and what materials would be used to craft the image? Dom: Play Doh…SpiroGraph…Etch-a-Sketch…Lite Brite; Bella and I illuminate each other in the mixed-media of our youth. I’m real big on Spam carvings because they’re edible. Wayward: …. Interesting … and why did you choose these materials? Bella: Clearly we live in the past. Wayward: Well, I’m not entirely sure that what you’re saying makes sense in the Newtonian universe that we inhabit …. Dom: Obviously I’ve reaped nepotism’s fruit. Living in uncle Wayne’s shadow was both a blessing and curse. But to credit a whole universe to him, even at his egotistical best I don’t think he’d go that far. Wayward: …. So you’re trying to reach that other plain …. Dom: You’re not listening, cocksucker. Wayward: Earlier you mentioned “cocks”. Would this be an adroit reference to farm animals and how the human sexual act is animalistic? Dom: No, clearly it’s the human penis. Whoops! Can I say penis? Wayward: I see … please go on … Bella: I see the animal sex act as very humanistic. Wayward: That’s rather offensive …. don’t you think? Bella: Have you ever seen two farm animals – nude farm animals – make love? It’s very… Wayward: You lost me there …. can we back up a bit … to what you were saying about the male organ? Dom: No more, I was finished. Now it is you who fixates. Wayward: Me fixating! You’re the ones who write this stuff. Dom: Hey, you’re asking the questions. Wayward: Okay … let’s move on to your new book … Bella: It’s a sequel, “Come Swim With Me Nude.” It’s filled with anecdotes, poems, and short stories, all of hope and inspiration. To us. Wayward: … yes … I’ve heard this described as mainstream. How do you respond to that and the assertion that you’re selling out? Bella: Selling out implies that people are buying our books, which is a fascinating thought. As for mainstream, I think we’re finally reaching our understanders – and there are many of them – who’ve been waiting for a voice. Wayward: Have either of you heard about the Internet and do you find it useful in your art? Bella: We’re vehemently against it, since we can no longer communicate with the children in our favorite chat rooms. It seems the POLICE [Parents Opposing Lewd Internet Chatroom Exhibitionists] don’t want us to reach them [their children]. And that’s a shame. Wayward: Now that you’ve worked poems and short stories, where do you intend going next? Is there a novel or play on the horizon? Dom: We’re working on a picture deal with Disney. It’s in the very, very, very early stages. I don’t want to give away too much, but the working title is “Have You Seen My Hymen?”. It’s based on Lewis Carroll’s lesser known masterpiece “Alice in Hymenland.” Wayward: And beyond that … What does the future hold? Bella: We’re not terribly future-oriented. Although it’s been suggested that we retain a good attorney. But we’re optimistic; a bumpy legal road would only give us fuel for the fire, fodder for fiction. Dom: I’m going to EuroDisney! Bella: Amen! FIN
It is March 20th, 2002, and I am sitting in one of the world’s most popular parking lots, otherwise known as the Southbound 101. A quick look at my watch confirms my worst fears. It is a little after six in the evening, and my beat-up Civic is threatening to overheat, leaving me stranded by the SFO on ramp. Tonight is the inaugural meeting of, the brand new MUG-about-town, the Mac Filmmakers User Group. Doors open in less than a half hour at the center of the Mac universe, the Apple Campus, in Cupertino. As that is forty minutes away, I’m probably already very late.
[This article first appeared in the Bay Area's Release Print magazine, in February of 2003.]
But miracles do happen, and less than thirty minutes later, I half-trip-half-run around the corner of the De Anza Three Auditorium to find that I’m not the only one that is late. Noting the frantic volunteer activity behind the large glass doors and the line of attendees waiting patiently to enter, I decide to explore who else is attending this event.
I am surprised and pleased, to say the least, when I find that I’m not the only Film Arts member to have made the trip, nor have I traveled the farthest. For here is a very diverse crowd of people; Long-time Film Arts members; First time Mac owners; Commercial directors, editors; And they’re from as far South as LA and as far North as Mount St Helena. I count one hundred and thirty-four people in line, with more are arriving by the minute.
Miami Beach
After checking out, I wandered across the street and onto the crest of the dune which marked the beginning of the beach. Even though it was only just after 9 am, the white lounge chairs were filling with sun worshipers. Back on the street side of the dune, people were taking breakfast at the cafes, bistros and restaurants. Joggers lumbered along and small groups of roller-bladers glided effortlessly by. Both the car and people traffic was extremely low compared to last night. I wandered down the beach for a while and then back via the street. The large Art Deco temperature gauge was being used heavily by tourists as a prop for photos. It already read ninety-one degrees. The humidity was rising as well. It had certainly been far more pleasant on the beach, where a slight breeze fanned you.
The streets were quite all over Miami Beach. There was just so much Art Deco, and all of it was so well maintained. It gave me an inkling of what the rest of the world was trying to achieve during the 1920s. In most other cases, what is left of that period has been watered down to a dull set of architectural white-elephants. Here they still have an exciting energy, paying homage to an optimistic age where mankind felt he could achieve anything.
Key West – Down Town
Key West marked the farthest point South in the USA, and the farthest point away from San Francisco. But I was not considering my outward bound trip complete until I reached Miami. When I awoke, I had to fight back the desire to jump straight in to the car and drive back up Route 1 to Miami, and to the turning point in my trip. A mental, calm and rational voice chipped in and first suggested, and then reiterated, that this may be the only time that I would ever be in Key West. Eventually,the rumbling in my stomach won over all else, and drove me to the nearest breakfast emporium. Thankfully this was next-door to my lodgings. As I filled in my diary, I momentarily reflected on the four-thousand plus miles that I had covered to date, and the twists of fate that had made the trip possible. I HAD to look around this key.
My mind made up, I slouched back in my chair and troweled the hash, eggs, sausage and OJ down my throat. I had twelve minutes before the next tour tram left.
The Everglades
Towards the end of yesterday’s drive, two weeks of almost continual driving started to take their toll on me. I pulled a muscle that made my shoulder and neck feel like a hot steel bar was being driven through them. The only time that I have ever experienced such intense pain was when I came off a bike and dislocated my shoulder. This may go some way to explaining why I was not so enthusiastic about the miles of countryside I had covered.
Today I awoke after a largely sleepless night. But thankfully, some of the fire had been extinguished in my left shoulder. I clambered in to the car, took a deep breath and set off.
I had arrived in Bradenton when it was almost dark and as a result had not seen the local vegetation. Now that I did, I realised that the area had a far more tropical look to it than the costline at my entry point to the state. There were palms, fig trees and banana plants. As I neared Port Charlotte I started getting a little frustrated at the Sunday Drivers. Gradually I noticed that the worst of them were actually quite senior in their years … And then I started to recall all the Retirement Resorts and Homes For The Elderly that I had driven by, between Panama City and this point. How come it did not strike me as unusual yesterday? There must be literally hundreds of them! Is this the Florida equivalent of the Elephant’s Graveyard?
Bradenton Beach
Landing in Bradenton marks the end of a rather long, rather uneventful, day of driving. It started on Panama City Beach – miles of white sand beaches, framing the Gulf of Mexico. It ended on Bradenton Beach – miles of white sand beaches, framing the Gulf of Mexico. Okay, there are more rolling dunes here and this area is a little busier. But the only real difference is that it is nearly twelve hours drive further down the road.
Before I left the Panama City area, I dropped by a Wal*Mart (US supermarket franchise) to pick up some toiletries. I found my dental floss, turned right at the bottom of the isle and stopped stock still, as my mouth fell open. Panama City’s Wal*Mart has one side of one isle dedicated to sun lotion (aka tanning cream, sun cream, etc.)!!!! I rallied, and attempted to look like I had just recognised some one I knew on the opposite side of the isle. Unfortunately my tortured mind was then confronted with the dietary aids isle. It was much smaller, but I was unaware that there were so many different chemically enhanced ways of burning fat. Slim Fast to bikinis is evidently the equivalent of honey to bees. A swarm or stylishly anorexic beach-babes devoured the shelf-stock. Wal*Mart evidently not only fills all your desires but you inadequacies too.
Back on the road, it was only a short time before I entered a forested area. This remained with me for the rest of the trip, broken only intermittently by marsh, scrub and what were labeled as glades (though I am pretty sure this has little to do with air freshener). Yes, the grass was green, the trees tall, the sky blue … but after the first five hours, it started wearing thin. This route is imaginatively named something like, “The Natural Wonder Route”. I would have been a little more enthusiastic, if I was walking through this area and had time to commune with Mother Nature. But I was not. Even the way that derelict road-side buildings had been consumed by the surrounding forest, only momentarily entertained me.
