The Three-Hour Formula

Last night I had the relaxing pleasure of watching a three-hour-long movie: The Great Escape. This 1960's classic depicts the intricate escape plan hatched and implemented by a group of Allied officers trapped in a Nazi POW prison. Although the film is based on a true story, the plot was significantly augmented in order to create a compelling film.

Even though the movie itself is quite good, what particularly interested me was the actual length and how a film this long could hold my attention. I live in a world where entertainment can be captured and consumed in milliseconds. In addition, most modern films are around two hours or less in length - often filled with action and/or intricate plot twists. So the habit of sitting down in front of a television set - which is endowed with over 500 channels - without changing the channel for three hours is not very ingrained in my being.

So what made The Great Escape good enough to hold me, a very selective attention-giver, for three hours? It was a surprisingly simple balance of good acting - quality of delivery, a sufficiently novel and captivating plot - intellectually stimulating experience, and fun - emotionally stimulating experience.

Local Should Be Everywhere

When I was a child growing up in New York City I loved to go to the movies on a regular basis. At that time, the most convenient way to find movie listings was to go to the street corner and pick up a copy of the Village Voice (a local newspaper), quickly flip to the back while trying to avoid the many ads, and manually find the movie theatres of interest.

Although the ads in the Village Voice were frequently annoying, they were usually geographically relevant. The local restaurants, nail salons, and dry cleaners would all advertise their establishments.

Today, movie listings are only a click away. But finding a relevant theatre via Fandango still involves putting in a local identifier - the zip code. Although I receive a list of local theatres, I don't see any ads for local establishments - instead I see ads for big, national brands. This means that the most current technology for finding movie information doesn't leverage the powerful knowledge that newspapers have been able to leverage for decades - the ability to geographically place the audience.

Clearly the Internet is still an evolving medium, but geo-location and related targeted advertising seems like an easy win. The long tail of small and medium local-establishments might provide that marketing boost that many websites are in dire need of.

It's Hard to Beat the Bullshit Detector

For a few years now I've had an idea for a screenplay stuck in my head. The idea is original and I believe that it has the ability to entertain millions. Those who've heard me describe this idea agree that it has value. It's full of intrigue, twists, turns, and all the necessary dramatic elements required to hold the attention of a full theatre for about two hours (or so I hope).

Although I've defined the main plot, the characters, and the settings, it turns out that it's much more difficult to write a good script than I believed. The issue that keeps getting me is the dialogue. Apparently it's quite challenging to make inherently artificial conversations seem real and pertinent to the plot. Every time I conceive a verbal exchange, the results seem fake.

I've begun to make progress and to develop more realistic dialogue. But this frustrating exercise has reminded me of the difficulty of writing both relevant and realistic conversations. Maybe this is why written speeches and presentations are so difficult to pull off, or why improvisation often comes across more naturally. Practice has helped me get better in my writing. But the innate bullshit detector that is present in most people is a tool that shouldn't be forgotten, no matter what message is being conveyed.

The Truman Show

I love quirky movies - movies that can't be easily defined, that are poignant and moving, and that are persistently memorable. A prime example of such a difficult-to-find movie is The Truman Show. The film, which was released in 1998, combines comedy and drama, reality and science fiction, subtlety and extravagance.

The core of the plot is naturally unbelievable. Truman Burbank is a seemingly common guy who isn't common at all. His life is actually one sensational 24/7 television show in which everyone but him is a participating actor. The plot evolves as Truman's psyche devolves - as he realizes that something is fundamentally wrong with his perfect yet shallow life. The whole movie builds brilliantly to a culminating third act - an emotionally moving progression that always gets me.

I'm not quite sure why this film resonates so strongly with me, why I always watch it when it is on television. It could be the predictive nature of the plot - that it strongly foreshadowed the rise of the absurd phenomenon that is reality television. It may be the strong performances, my respect for Jim Carrey, or the overall quality of the production. Or it could stem from my core need to find meaningful context in every-day reality.