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Posts tagged as “Star Trek”

Seven Years of TV Analysis

Seven Years of TV Analysis

We’ve taken a long glance at a lot of TV shows over the past seven years.
In fact, I’m usually pretty vocal about shows I love, and shows I…do not.

Before the age of Ultron TV marathons and binge-watching had arrived, I pointed out “why mythological shows are often idolized.” I’d probably broaden the scope to “serialized shows” now, but most of my points still stand:

In marathon-like screenings, the mind is somewhat submissive to the story told and the episode. The brain is passive, not active. You don’t have time to really think about the many twists and turns since you’re watching them unfold. You’re “eating” away the episodes, not “digesting” them. Everything will probably seem to blend into a unified storyline instead of finite stories broadcast every week or so with hiatus lasting months in-between seasons. Watching the first three seasons of Battlestar back-to-back won’t be the same thing as having been there since 2003.
For one thing, you didn’t theorize during Season One or Season Two. That might not seem all that important, but not being able to think for several months or years (or even only days in the case of a marathon) about who the twelve Cylons are won’t make you aware of how preposterous the introduction of the Final Five during the show’s third Season is. If you care a little bit about a show, you’ll surely think about it, start asking yourself questions. Let’s be honest, we all have way too much time on our hands and we love to theorize. Shows such as BSG or Lost work because you can theorize about them all day long… Until you can’t due to a faulty mythology.
Turns out, when watching episodes back-to-back you don’t have months to think about “what’s in the Hatch” or anything else that deserves theorizing. You’re not expecting special answers either, so you rarely end up disappointed either.

Since we’re on the topic, I did expand in another article on my love-hate relationship with Battlestar Galactica (as the show concluded six years ago).
And speaking of finished shows–
There was this post on why Dollhouse might be renewed, and a counter-post on why Dollhouse would be canceled. Turns out I was right on both ends. It would get a second season, thanks to some of the elements I brought up, and then subsequently would get canned, again mostly due to the aforementioned reasons. Looking back, it’s interesting to see that even at the time I was alluding to the concept of “brand” for writers. Namely, Joss Whedon’s geek appeal. (Part of which would get him the Avengers gig later on.)

As I said previously, I often voice (or write) my opinion on shows, even if it’s a negative one. One such example (and disappointment) was with the series premiere of FlashForward. For over a year, I had hyped the show. I loved the script, Iloved the cast, I was anxious for the final result. Unfortunately, the finished product left a lot to be desired:

Overall, what worked on the page didn’t work on screen.
I don’t blame the writing though, I blame the plain directing and editing.
A two-hour premiere would probably have given enough time to develop both the story and the characters. Sadly, this wasn’t the case. Better luck next time.

Although more optimistic, Lordy wrote at the time about two cult-adjacent series in Better Off Ted and Medium.

In science-fiction show news, I expanded on the unoriginality of Fringe. First I tackled its resemblance to The X-Files, before comparing its alt-world dichotomy to that of Sliders.
And we shan’t forget Heroes, now incidentally coming back from the dead. During its third season, I explained why Heroes should not set an end date.

Haters gonna hate.

Case in point: my 2009 article on the heydeys of Mad Men, or as I called it, “Mad Men: demystifying the overhyped“.

When a single series occupies 80% of all writing nominations despite obvious worthy contenders, when Times Square dedicates a whole evening to said series’ season premiere, when virtually everyone declares it the best series of the year, no matter how good the show actually is, that’s Mad Men.
And Mad Men is being overhyped.

Finally, let’s transition to more positive thinking, and three of our biggest talking points over the past seven years: Lost, Star Trek, and Breaking Bad. Trek was more writing (and Terran)-related, the other two were about their end.
To celebrate all three, we dedicated for each an entire week of brand new in-depth articles. Kind of like what we’re doing now with this site, except with original content.

The first one was the end of Lost, and our Lost Week. On top of articles covering Lindelof/Cuse quotes, Lost parodies and the future of the brand, my main focus was on a big aspect of the show: how Lost revolutionized TV storytelling. One example were its use of flashforwards:

Flashforwards in Lost gave weight to something that was rarely used, or at least not for their sake, but just to give hints of the future. It was the ABC show that truly revealed the potential of such a storytelling technique. The series had showed again that audiences could follow simultaneously two very different timelines. Not since La Jetée have we had such a complex array of timelines, combining both analepses and prolepses. One could argue the writers are trying to catch the lightning in the bottle once more with this season’s flashsideways technique. But all they’re actually creating is a fake sense of nostalgia.

On September 2013, I decided to spec and release a pilot for a new Star Trek show (Terran). We already covered that aspect earlier in the week, which is why I wanted to bring up another post I did on the subject: “Why Star Trek?” — The State of an Enduring Franchise. Beyond my own spec experiment, it was a way to express why we needed (and still need) a new Star Trek series. Here’s a taste:

One of the most interesting trait of the genre has always been that it could serve as an echo of reality. And the world desperately needs a reflection of itself.
You could make a pretty long list of contemporary issues that are begging to be explored (surveillance, social class, role of government, etc.). These are issues that would still be prevalent within the Trek-verse. In fact, the franchise has always been great at taking on societal and moral issues throughout its series (some more contemporary than others).

Even more importantly, Star Trek endures because it always has been forward-looking.
Star Trek stands for hope. Reaching for the sky and going where no one has gone before. It is sending a positive outlook about people. A better humanity, united, and equal. We need Star Trek on TV to inspire society, but also a new generation, people growing up to be explorers in their fields. This is about believing in a better future and striving to better ourselves.

We need a new Star Trek series, not for the fans of the franchise, but for everybody else. We need it for the bigger picture.

What a rallying cry!

Last but certainly not least, we had the end of Breaking Bad, and our Breaking Bad Week. I’m actually even happier with the amount of great, thoughtful articles we did on the show. (Maybe I’ll edit a book with these fancy posts!)
I covered the amazing experimental storytelling of Breaking Bad:

The show took the time to breathe and embrace the real world around it, and feed the humanity of its characters. Consequences and repercussions mattered because of the time spent at building these relationships, this status quo being broken apart. Like a steady hand on the wheel, it knew where it was heading towards. It was spending its time on meaningful moments. Bad was about real emotions, real greed, real jealousy, real fear. All of it stemming from smaller scales. The series was not trying to milk these moments, it was trying to establish context. Even in the craziness of season five, you still had family moments and humorous moments, like Skinny Pete and Badger’s Star Trek conversation.

We talked about the realism of Breaking Bad:

The show was hyper-serialized, and given its time-frame (one year within the story), it couldn’t afford being “ripped from headlines” topical. Nonetheless, it was still relevant. We’ve already seen how the series embraced its everyday roots by showing the “moments between the moments”. And the show proved to be even more receptive to its cartel storylines. Most notably, in the second season, the now-iconic image of a drug informant getting beheaded (and later put on a tortoise). “Extreme” moments that are, actually, completely believable (and similarly happened later in real life). Another great example of an atypical sequence is Los Cuates de Sinaloa’s narcocorrido track inspired by Heisenberg in 2×07 (“Negro Y Azul”). Narcocorridos are traditional Mexican songs with lyrics usually inspired by illegal criminal activities, often cartel-related. Although not a music genre well-known in the States, it nonetheless cements his story within the “real world”.

We braced ourselves for the failings of Breaking Bad:

As a fervent viewer of the show since day one, that season two buildup was one of the biggest cock-teases in recent TV history. It wasn’t as bad as Lost’s smoke monster, or Battlestar Galactica’s Cylon plan, but for a season-long mystery, it was definitely a miniature version.
It may not play out the same now, as you binge-watch the show, but when it came to a weekly viewing, the resolution of such an extended teasing was nothing short of a slap in the face.

A little too harsh? Only time will tell.

And then we talked about the legacy of Breaking Bad, most notably its serialized binge-viewing:

With the advent of Netflix and other great streaming services, Breaking Bad was able to capitalize on its serialization where other shows had previously failed. Word-of-mouth coupled with amazing cliffhangers (i.e. the need to watch the next episode) cemented its online boom.
It started out as a niche show that caught on with the popular success only coming the last couple of seasons. It is without a doubt thanks to the unprecedented access to Breaking Bad’s previous seasons that viewers were able to not only catch up on the show but tune in live for the final episodes. Bad was the first drama to fully benefit first-hand from the one-click-away access to its serialized episodes. Everybody caught on just in time for the final season. With only a couple million viewers watching the series “live” during most of its run, it isn’t a stretch to believe that more people actually watched the show on Netflix than on AMC.

Lots and lots of shows. Lots and lots of great analysis.

I can’t wait to see what I’ve been up to.

Robert Hewitt Wolfe’s Mastertweets on #TVWriting

The awesome Robert Hewitt Wolfe started tweeting out last Sunday a lot of advice for up-and-coming TV writers.
And by a lot of advice, I mean over 55 tweets (so basically 1,500 words).

Liz Thurmond generously compiled this amazing masterclass (or mastertweets) chronologically.
Check it out below, it’s worth the read. Robert Hewitt Wolfe goes into everything from spec scripts and agents to production jobs and professional reputation.

UPDATE: The Storify website is gone, but you can access an archived copy of the tweets at this link: https://web.archive.org/web/20160707102829/storify.com/countmystars/becoming-a-tv-writer/

Scribosphere Carnival #3 – Criticism

Scribosphere Carnival #3 – Criticism

The Scribosphere Carnival is a weekly discussion from a variety of screenwriting blogs around a rotating theme.

And I’m continuing to catch up on those I missed.

Michael over at Red Right Hand chose today’s topic:

CRITICISM — This week’s Scribosphere topic is how we each take criticism, or how we don’t, who do we seek out to provide it, and what do we do with it once we have it, how we give it, or, you know…whatever.

Giving it

In my long-standing experience as a professional critic (*takes a puff of cigarette*), there are a few things I always try to do when giving criticism (and more specifically, giving notes).

The Frame
How you say something is just as important as what you say.
This is especially true when giving notes, since, as you already know, writers are very sensitive creatures. An obvious tip is to never lead with the bad.
I’ll go a step further and mention the shit criticism sandwich. Heard of it? You’ve probably been on the other end of one, as it’s a psychological trick often used by HR and in performance reviews.
Basically, you start your criticism with a compliment, then move to a real issue, and conclude with another positive comment. Repeat ad nauseam.
Here’s a pretty comic strip to illustrate the idea:
sandwich
You’ll still be saying what you want to say, but in a nicer way.

The Content
What is the one thing you should always be doing when giving notes? Be doing honesty. That’s right.
If you’re trying to help someone with their script (or anything else for that matter), there’s nothing worse than downplaying and/or outright censoring a negative comment you may have. You need to put it all on the table and actually talk about the issues with the project, even if it’s going to mess up with, say, act two.
That doesn’t mean you should just point at the page and say it’s the worst thing ever. Or be like this:

(He’s talking about the Photoshop job.)

Giving notes is about trust. Yes, I’m already tearing up.
If you’re willing to give notes, then you should be willing to put aside any personal feelings (good or bad), be objective, and be honest about it all.

In terms of what your notes should generally be about, a common rule of thumb is to start off with the macro first, and then move on to the micro.
In other words, start with the big picture. Structure, plot and characters are probably going to be the three biggest triggers.
As we’ve seen, don’t just pile on the negative. Unless it was literally the worst script of the decade, you probably (for example) engaged with some things, but not others. What about that turn in the fourth act? How amazing was it when the clown ended up being the serial joker?
Then, move on to the smaller things. It can be anything like syntax, phrasing, character names, formatting, etc.

Finally, if you’re sending out negative criticism, try to offer some sort of solution (or suggestion) to the problem(s) you’re highlighting.
Nobody likes a complainer.
It’s likely that they won’t actually be putting the ideas to use, but, like the shit criticism sandwich, it’s a way to soften the blow. (Plus it shows that you cared enough to think about the problem.)

Getting it

To go on a slight tangent, if you’ll recall, I did a “script experiment” a few months back by publicly putting up my Star Trek: Terran spec pilot.
I was surprised at the amount of feedback and criticism I ended up getting (e-mail/Facebook/smoke signals). And I don’t mean one-line bashing; I’m talking full-on notes. From complete strangers.

It was an interesting experience (that is still ongoing), not only for the kind of criticism I received, but also from whom. Even more surprising to me was the 50/50 split between writers and non-industry people who were just Trek fans in their own rights. And all these people read my weird 1-hour pilot draft out of their own volition (no pets were kidnapped)! Still can’t believe it.
As I’ve previously said, a writer never wants to write in a vacuum. I’m always grateful when someone reads my work, let alone gives me notes in return.
Sometimes it is hard to get good feedback, or find people who can give honest feedback.

A good place to start is–wait for it–your friends.
Like many people (I assume), I tend to divide the people I get my notes from between writers/industry folks, and non-writers/non-industry people.
As you can probably guess, the idea is to end up with notes that will help both the craft and the story.
A layman doesn’t care about structure, but he’ll probably tell you that he fell into a deep coma around page 4 of your boring church description.
This is especially useful for genre/convoluted scripts, which I sometimes (often) tend to write. The stories can be intricate, so it’s nice to know where/when a reader gets confused or what s/he missed entirely.

Besides BFFs, another great way to get constructive (and continuous) feedback is through a writers group.
There’s a few ways of going about those. It can be a “build as you go” group, in which case people trade/reads X pages every week, and everyone comments about each other’s scripts. It can also be a writer’s room-type format, where each session revolves around a participant’s project.
Whichever way you go, it’s again about valuing the people’s opinions. If you don’t feel comfortable sharing your material and/or getting notes from the other members, you’ll be wasting more than just your time.

Taking it

There could be an entire book written about the “proper” way to “take a note”. But this isn’t anger management.
The good news about criticism is that it isn’t always about bad news. Real criticism is supposed to measure and analyze both the positive and the negative behind a piece.
That is, in theory. The reality is that, as writers, we often only hear that bad news stuff.
We’re too sensitive.

The initial outpouring of energy when receiving negative criticism tends to go in two directions:

Anger
“The third act could use a little trimming.” Gimme a razor, and I’ll trim something alright.
“That character didn’t pop.” I’m gonna pop one right in your face!
“I wasn’t engaged with the story.” *sounds of head bashing*

Justification
“You don’t understand! There needs to be a floating pig in act three to symbolize the protagonist’s purgative withdrawal from the feeble-minded society surrounding him! Also, I love Pink Floyd.”

Neither reactions are worth your time (or your reader’s).
Criticism can be harsh, but regardless of our personal feelings, we need to realize that every comment, every criticism, and every note has its value. Even when it sounds lame.

Simply put, listen to the note behind the note.

Listen to the problem behind the criticism.
The person giving you feedback doesn’t always (read: never) know your script better than you. S/he therefore won’t always be giving the best solution or most relevant comment. But maybe it’s only a question of phrasing the problem properly.
If you’re getting notes from a non-writer, chances are that real structure issues will be disguised as issues regarding the reader’s comprehension/engagement (among other things).
If someone forgets to comment on an entire plotline (e.g. C story), maybe you don’t need it. Or if you do, then it’s definitely not as compelling as you think it is.
The same can be said about potential fixes/suggestion given to you. Listen to the problem behind the solution.
Even if you don’t agree with the fix (or find it appalling to even consider! My God, what the hell is this guy thinking?! That’ll bust my entire third act! I can’t even–), that doesn’t mean there isn’t a problem.
Abre los ojos.

Once all the notes have been received and tabulated, I try to organize them according to their importance, both on an “urgency” scale, and a “meta” scale (i.e. the aforementioned macro vs. micro problems). Note that the “importance scale” is in reference to the script, not the person giving the note. (Assuming of course I already know who’s giving it to me. Nomsayin’)
And then it’s time for draft number two. Or three. Or back to the outline. Or the ledge.

Well. That’s a lot about criticism.
Any notes?

Scribosphere blogs also on the topic:

Shouting in the Wind | Red Right Hand | Jonathan Hardesty | Bamboo Killers