So said the cinematic screenwriting coach, Robert McKee. I watched Adaptation tonight, which unexpectedly became one of my favorite movies of all time when it was released on video. At the time, I was sort of getting settled into a “real” job after college, and this film really spoke to me (so much so that I call it a film). Recently, I saw Synecdoche, New York and was disappointed when it failed to touch me in that special place like Adaptation had. For the uninitiated, these two films share the same writer, but the difference is that Synecdoche, New York was writer Charlie Kaufman’s directorial debut (or so goes the story; I honestly don’t follow Hollywood mechanics but became an avid fan of Charlie Kaufman’s writing after Being John Malkovich and, later, Adaptation). After being disappointed, I thought it would be interesting to watch Adaptation again to see how it strikes me now.
Usually, when I think about re-watching movies, I think of Tony Robbins’s comment about how if you see a movie a second time, you need to get a life. That sort of motivational self-loathing usually stops me, but sometimes I can rationalize it as being constructive in my own creative and self-reflection processes. See? I can be neurotic like a real writer!
Enough time had passed since I first saw this movie to where I wasn’t able to recall most of the plot, which gave me an enjoyable opportunity to experience things differently than how I had six years ago. For instance, I identified with Kaufman’s nervous insecurity when I originally liked this movie, and I was impressed with the complex expression of simple “truths” and insights. In many ways, the structure and presentation, as well as the attention to story detail, in Adaptation remind me of The Big Lebowski, but whereas The Big Lebowski ratchets up the lulz, Adaptation seems more focused on delivering a ….an opportunity for introspection(?). With various characters experiencing major life changes, as well as histories of loss, Adaptation delves into serious issues in a way that may comfort viewers as it demonstrates the shared aberrance of poachers and professional writers. Cinematically, it works on many levels, and I still believe it’s a brilliant story.
The first time I saw it, Adaptation made me think, “That writer really harnesses his crazy!” Then, the key lessons I took from it were Donald’s insights about owning his love for the girl who dismissed him and ubiquitous, impending danger. Lately, though, I have been thinking about starting a new project—or some new projects. I want to work on something bigger than myself because lately, I feel like squandered potential energy; I have a lot of stuff going on, but, like Susan Orlean in Adaptation, I want to feel completely passionate about something. Whereas previously I was more interested in Kaufman’s character’s neurosis, this time Susan Orlean’s focus on change (not necessarily her own tumult) and Bob McKee as a deus ex machina captured my attention. In fact, the key lessons I walk away with this time are that “Change is not a choice” and, as I indicated in the title, “Wow them in the end, and you’ve got a hit.”
Now I want to talk about all kinds of real-life applications for this insight, but I will organize my thoughts and add those posts to the list of other drafts I never finish.
I have been interested in black markets—pardon me, informal economies—since I first discovered it was the subject of legitimate study (and by legitimate, I of course mean institutionally acceptable). For one economics class, however, I did a project on hedge funds in Latin America, and I discovered that finding good data on something so unregulated is exceptionally difficult.
In the years after school, I still think about informal economies and/or black markets because I have come to view them differently. Whereas when I was younger, I may’ve thought more in terms of “right” and “wrong” or at least [socially] “acceptable” and “unacceptable,” I have come to view informal economies more as a direct reaction to regulations and prohibition. Indeed, where I once saw government as a sort of referee, I generally see high-level bureaucrats as basically the other side of the corporate management coin. After all, when we read about these execs paying bribes, there’s someone on the taking end, too.
Anyway, I’m drifting. As my perception of black markets has shifted, I have come to see black markets as representing grassroots people power, persecuted simply for existing outside the establishment. To bolster my case, I tracked down a book called “Off the Books” by Bruce Wiegand. When I went to purchase it, I was referred to another book of the same title but by a different author. That “Off the Books” arrived today, and I will be reading it in the next couple days/weeks.
In my notes for this post, I go on to ask whether black markets arise because some people simply don’t want to be part of the system or because the system is designed to label some segment of the population criminal for the purpose of benefitting more politically powerful classes. I will use the book to try and answer this question.
I was going to wait to post this until I read it, but I’ve noticed that what makes for good blogging is the steady trickle of information. More later.
