Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

To make magic on film you have to have a need for danger, poetry in your soul, and a touch of madness in your heart. Orson Welles had it. Citizen Kane is still an amazing film to watch, even though it was made 73 years ago. Fellini had it. 8½ can still tear you up with its beauty and pain. Kurosawa had it. Seven Samurai will knock any modern film out of the park with its intensity mixed with heartbreaking beauty.  Jean Renoir had it. The Rule of the Game is as modern now as it was in 1939. Hitchcock had it. Notorious is stunning in how perfectly suspense, romance, psychological dynamics and cruelty mix so smoothly together. John Ford had it. The Searchers is as vicious and cruel as it is loving.

Modern filmmakers -- I can't think of any who have those qualities or aspects. Steven Spielberg almost gets it, but then it scares him and he does something goofy to mess it up. The closest he came to achieving it was Empire of the Sun, but he still had a couple of dumb moments in it to make sure the audience knew he didn't really mean it. Same thing happened in Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan, albeit more blatantly. Martin Scorsese is too busy proving he knows how to play with a camera. The Coen Brothers are too busy being quirky and esoteric. Alfonso Cuarón was doing it with Gravity, till the end. Ang Lee is too level-headed an artist to let himself succumb. I can't think of anyone else who would even begin to count.

Which brings me to Chris Columbus. I just watched the movie version of the first Harry Potter book and I can say, without doubt, he has none of it. Not a drop. If I had seen the movie before reading the book, I'd never have touched a page. For a film that's about magic, it was very leaden and limp and amazingly lumpy. The book's not great literature, not in the least, but it made sense and it rocked along. This movie lurched, and I lay that at the feet of its director.

I've seen other directors ruin films -- The Last Time I Committed Suicide was the worst example -- but Columbus doesn't even ruin it. He just...shoots it. From a dozen different angles. And makes his movie out of that. Like a music video director. No sense of story. No build. Nothing but scene after scene. And his way with child actors is nonexistent. To be honest, Daniel Radcliffe was bad. He got a lot better as he grew, but in this first movie, he's no more real than a comic book sketch...and the same goes for Emma Watson and Rupert Gint.

Not that it matters; the thing's made a billion dollars...but talk about a disappointment.

Question...

Can a script that's really quite vicious and violent be playful, too? Carli commits some pretty hideous murders -- justified, to an extent, but still...to my mind that would weigh on a person. Unless they're a sociopath. And I don't think Carli is. She's just pissed off and out to exact justice for her sister's death. But could she still be human and sympathetic after what she does to Anastasia and her married boyfriend, and Grady? All in the first ten minutes of the movie?

She's ex-military. She's been in Afghanistan. She's killed people, there. Would that give her a different take on death? One bullet = too easy an end for a devil? I'm getting odd vibes off this aspect of her.

I think it's being brought to the fore by the ludicrous spectacle of Dick Cheney and his two-faced, back-stabbing bitch of a daughter, Liz, writing a column berating Obama for not keeping an occupying force in Iraq, even though al Malaki demanded we leave, and saying he's the worst thing to happen to American freedom, ever. This from the man who ignored the threats leading up to 9/11, lied us into invading a country that had done nothing to us, helped pass the Patriot Act (the biggest assault on American Freedom, ever, period), deliberately outed a CIA agent to get even with her husband for saying there were no WMDs in Iraq, and even shot his friend in the face. He's got the nerve to bash Obama for not being willing to kill more American soldiers in a country that was out of control the second Saddam was toppled. And don't anybody tell me it ever was under control; there was an ebb and flow to the violence, but there was never an end to it.

And then there's St John McCain, who's never been wrong about anything. Just ask him, he'll tell you...and has, over and over. The fact that he's been completely wrong about every aspect of the invasion of Iraq since the drumbeat to war began is irrelevant and a "pack of lies," so far as he's concerned. It'd be interesting to watch these soulless creatures in action if it didn't mean so much human suffering, thanks to their evil needs.

So...Carli...is she like them? Able to justify anything in her mind? No matter what kind of hell it brings? Religious freaks do -- be they Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Jewish, or Christian. So do billionaires out to turn the US into their personal fiefdom. Republicans are doing it in Washington as they cut food stamps to pay for more tax breaks for the rich while letting billion-dollar companies get away with paying no taxes, while too many Democrats let them. It's like a full-scale epidemic of "I don't give a fuck about anybody but me."

Is Carli aiming for that until she meets Zeke?

Showin' off...

Zeke's showing off a little...and Carli's letting him. They moved a scene to earlier in the script, and even though it doesn't make logical sense, it feels right there. That's usually when I turn to granite -- when I feel right about something in the story. Once that happens, not even God could get me to change it.

I ran into that with my family script, Bugzters. When I did the first draft, it wasn't great but I liked the relationships of the characters, and I intensified that on the second draft. But then, despite my better judgement, I was talked into minimizing one major character, and it hurt the script. So I decided, Never again.

Sure enough, I kept getting hit with ideas for my scripts to "make them better," meaning make them different and more like someone else would write them. If I wasn't sure about the script, I'd try out the ideas. But if I knew I had it right, I wouldn't.

Then I agreed to change Bugzters into an animated script, and tried very hard to put my ego and absoluteness aside. And I did good...until I was asked to get rid of another major character and blend her aspects in with the lead kid's. I wouldn't. No, it wasn't that I wouldn't, I couldn't. Period. I didn't just refuse; I got angry.

For all the good that did. I had to give the script up, because when I first wrote Bugzters, I was paid for it. Legally, I had no rights to it. That was six years ago...almost six years.  And it hasn't even been bought, yet, let alone made. No one else wants it...because the people who own it don't believe it in.

This is what solidified in my mind that if a producer doesn't want your work as it is, he or she won't gain respect for the project if you make free changes for them. If they give you notes and you do what they want -- something I was instinctually refusing to do -- they still won't be happy with it. The only way to get your work through the wasteland of cowardice populated by producers is to find one who believes in your work so much, they won't want you to change a word and will fight to keep it as is.

It's not the quality of the work that matters, anymore; it's the passion of the people involved. And if you don't feel passionate and confident in your work or what projects you want to make, why should the money guy? He wants to be reassured, not shown that no one else feels all that strongly about the project, either.

Wish I'd figured this out a couple decades ago; I might not have wasted so much of my life.

The characters take over...

This is what I like about writing. Sometimes. I also hate it, sometimes, for different reasons. But Zeke's taken himself over and is leading me places that I hadn't really expected. He's become the peacemaker, stepping into conflicts to try and defuse them. He also has no problem with Dax being a son-of-a-bitch, because the man backed him up. This makes him part of Dax's band of cutthroats --and yet, apart from it.

Carli's taken his lead and done some adjusting of her own. She thinks Zeke's one of the men who raped her sister, and he's on her list to kill. But seeing him in action and talking to him slows her aim for vengeance down. Derails it...a little. Makes her question her motives. Her goals.

Of course it's going to turn out he had nothing to do with the rape, that he didn't join the group till long after. The way Zeke's going, he's not the kind of guy who'd hurt anyone, if he could help it. So this won't be as dark as I can go. Or maybe it will, I don't know.

The main scene I added was Zeke and Thor, his dog who looks a bit like the Viking god and is just as cool as Zeke about everything. I may be adding hurdles to this script getting made, but I can't stop my characters when they're working so hard. And it's not like it'd matter, anyway. The script needs to get to the right person to get made, someone who will believe in it enough to fight for it instead of letting others spit on it.

And there's always someone who wants to spit.

More of Carli's Kills...

Desert land...

The continues from yesterday...
-----------------------

EXT. ISOLATED HOUSE — NIGHT

A beat-up old ranch house surrounded by nothing. The woman leans against the Mercedes, watches Grady glide up. Dust covers him. He beats most of it away and removes the goggles.

WOMAN
You should’ve stayed by me.

GRADY
Do I gotta shower?

She links a finger in his belt and pulls him into a kiss.

WOMAN
Wash your face. Use some mouthwash, too. Or would you prefer another beer?

GRADY
You gotta ask?

INT. ISOLATED HOUSE — NIGHT

The interior just as old and worn as the outside; total opposite of the Benz she’s driving.

Grady washes his face in the kitchen sink. He turns to find her offering him a Negro Modelo. She’s already drinking one.

GRADY
Tough beer.

WOMAN
You prefer Miller Lite?

He takes the beer, gulps down half. She grabs his t-shirt and pulls him close.

GRADY
Don’t tear the shirt. It’s my best roughed-up one.

They kiss.

WOMAN
Now we taste alike.

GRADY
Aw, fuck.

WOMAN
That’s the idea, play-toy.

GRADY
Name’s Grady. What’s yours?

WOMAN
Anastasia -- but you may call me Stasi.

GRADY
Hmph, I knew another girl by that name.

WOMAN
That a fact?

Off goes his shirt, revealing an elaborate tattoo on his back.

WOMAN (CONT’D)
Got any more tatts?

GRADY
You’ll see.

She unbuckles his belt and the buttons of his jeans. He grinds against her, then grunts and tries to keep his balance.

WOMAN
Problem?

GRADY
Just feel weird and...and...what the fuck...? That beer...

WOMAN
Grady -- have roofies been used on you, before?

GRADY
You fuckin’ bitch...what’re you doin’ -- ?

He falls on his ass. Tries to talk but his words dribble into nothingness.

She rolls Grady onto his belly and straps his wrists together with a police band.

WOMAN
I don’t need the restraint, but I feel like playing it kinky.

She pulls off her red wig to reveal brown hair, then her top to reveal a girdle-bustier combination that pushes her breasts up and accentuates her curves. Off it comes.

He watches her, confused, his mouth moving but saying nothing. He passes out.

EXT. DESERT - NIGHT

Grady wakes, face down, bound spread-eagle to the ground, a ball-gag in his mouth. He is naked. He fights to get free.

The woman makes him look at her.

WOMAN
Hi, Grady. Sleep well?

GRADY
(grunts)
What the fuck?

She holds up an iPhone. VIDEO PLAYS — shows a college girl being held down on a pool table by four men as Grady rapes her. The man holding the girl’s head and shoulders is not completely visible. The girl sort of struggles...but is obviously drugged.

WOMAN
That’s you raping her, right?

GRADY
(grunts)
I dunno what you’re talkin’ about. You got the wrong guy. I ain’t done nothin’ to you. I don’t even know you. What do you want?

WOMAN
(known as CARLI from this point)
You don’t know me? Okay. First off, my name is not Anastasia. She’s dead. Second off, my last name’s Vincenzo. Does that fire up any memory cells?

They do. He breathes faster. Pulls harder at his bindings.

Carli pauses the video.

CARLI
Yes. This girl you’re raping -- she’s my sister -- was my sister. Because this video was posted on a dozen different sites, for everyone in her family, all of her friends, and every student in her college to see. So she killed herself, just over a year ago. Thanks to you and the other assholes in this video.

She shows him a full honey-bear. Dribbles honey over his naked legs, arms, and ass.

CARLI (CONT’D)
As you know, she reported the rape, but local law enforcement decided she got into a situation she could not control, so it was her own damn fault, and they refused to arrest or prosecute anyone. I think that’s a crime, Grady, and where there’s a crime, there should be punishment.

She picks up a knife. Runs it over his back, sensuously.

CARLI (CONT’D)
Here’s yours.

She slices into his skin, cutting around the tattoo.

Grady’s CHOKING SHRIEKS fill the dark, empty desert.

EXT. DESERT -- DAY

Buzzards circle over two sheriff’s cruisers and BLM SUVs. They sit near a small plateau in the middle of nowhere. Some Bureau of Land Management AGENTS and DEPUTIES gather around.

Another cruiser rolls up and SHERIFF CHARLETON MENSON gets out -- tall, rangy, completely at home in the desert.

MENSON
Anybody touch anything?

DEPUTY #1
None of us has. Check with the feds.

BLM AGENT
My agent didn’t get all the way up on the plateau. The second he saw it, he came down and called it in.

MENSON
Why’s he over here lookin’?

BLM AGENT
The car. The buzzards.

Menson climbs up the plateau to find --

Grady’s body staked to the ground, next to the car...crawling with ants. Pieces of flesh were pulled away. Menson looks at the buzzards.

MENSON
Ain’t gettin’ no prints off this one, that’s for sure. Got an ID on that car yet?

DEPUTY #2
Belongs to an Anastasia Bordosky, over in Phoenix.

MENSON
What?! You sure ‘bout that?

DEPUTY #2
Yeah. License plate, registration, everything.

BY SOME DISTANT ROCKS

Carli uses a telephoto lens to catch video of the men. Their voices come from her iPhone.

BLM AGENT (O.S.)
What’s the big deal?

MENSON (O.S.)
She died ten days ago. Murder, suicide.

Carli shifts to watch them through the sniper scope of a NEMO Omen .300 Rifle.

BLM AGENT (O.S.)
Bordosky -- I heard about that. Killed her married boyfriend then did a jumper.

MENSON (O.S.)
That’s what the M-E said.

BLM AGENT (O.S.)
Sounds like she was on something.

MENSON (O.S.)
Maybe. And maybe I oughta talk with that M-E and see about takin’ a closer look.

DEPUTY #1 (O.S.)
Why, Sheriff?

MENSON (O.S.)
Nobody said her car was missin’.

Carli smirks.

DEPUTY #2 (O.S.)
Say, wasn’t a girl named Bordosky mixed up in that mess, a couple years back?

MENSON (O.S.)
Yep.

BLM AGENT (O.S.)
What mess?

MENSON (O.S.)
Some stupid college brats got junked up. Fell into some shit that’s way too deep for ‘em.

Carli almost pulls the trigger on him.

CARLI
You got no idea what shit is, you son-of-a-bitch, but you’re about to find out.

Carli's Kills -- opening scenes...

Rather Grady-ish

FADE IN:

INT. HIGH-RISE HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

A MAN and CO-ED have sex. The bed thumps the wall. MOANS of ecstacy. Someone pounds the wall in the next room.

VOICE
Keep it down, in there!

The couple just get louder -- then finish. Whoosh...

MAN
Oh, Stasi...baby...that was good. That was great.

CO-ED
It always is...

MAN
Shit, if my wife could...

CO-ED
Keep her out of this.

MAN
First girl I ever met who didn’t give a shit I’m married.

CO-ED
You fuck around with other girls!?

MAN
No, no, that’s not what I meant.

CO-ED
Bullshit.

She gets out of bed. Goes to the balcony. He follows. Caresses her.

MAN
Stasi, baby, I haven’t fucked with anybody but you since I met you.

CO-ED
Not even your wife?

MAN
I wouldn’t call that fucking. More like using her pussy to masturbate. But you -- you got muscles where I didn’t know girls had muscles.

CO-ED
(smirks)
Cocksucker.

MAN
That’s your job, bitch. And you could teach fags a thing or two about it.

She grabs his hair and pulls him half over the balcony railing.

CO-ED
What the fuck? You been comparison shopping?

He laughs.

MAN
Never gonna -- .

SCHWICK! A KNIFE IS SLAMMED INTO HIS HEART! He gasps. Collapses.

The Co-ed screams an instant before a tall, cruel WOMAN shoves her over the railing. She falls 20 stories, shrieking.

INT. ROADSIDE BAR - NIGHT

A CUE BALL DOES A PERFECT BREAK!

A gorgeous WOMAN in red hair, big breasts and tight jeans rounds the pool table, looking for her next shot. She plays alone.

She’s in a typical desert roadside bar, a chunky BARTENDER and its few PATRONS the only things cheaper than it. Crap music plays on the box.

She leans in for another shot. An ugly bearded dude, SPIT, drunkenly swaggers up and pushes his crotch against her butt, giggling.

SPIT
Got more o’ that, sweetcheeks.

FEMALE PATRON
He’s just your style, honey.

Another holds up her pinkie.

OTHER PATRON
Real big, yeah, really.

The woman’s fingers twist in his beard. Draw him close.

WOMAN
Touch me, again, and I’ll rip off those peanuts you call balls and shove up your nose, you piece of shit. And don’t think I can’t...

She hisses sharp red nails at him.

He snarls. She jams her cue on his instep. He yelps and falls on his ass. Beer spills everywhere. The whole bar laughs. He skulks off.

GRADY BARNES, a linebacker gone to biker trash, tattoos covering one beefy arm, leans on the other end of pool table. Crooked fingers grip a beer in one hand and a joint in the other.

GRADY
Now you done got Spit all pissed.

WOMAN
Friend of yours?

GRADY
Just know him.

WOMAN
His name fits.

GRADY
What do you call you?

She looks him over, like a jackal eyes its meat.

GRADY (CONT’D)
Okay, so what do you call me?

WOMAN
Dinner?

GRADY
What -- no movie?

WOMAN
How ‘bout a game, instead?

He holds up his hands.

GRADY
I’m not so good with pool.

WOMAN
I’ll spot you a couple balls.

Grady picks out a cue and sets his beer beside hers.

GRADY
Stripes or solids?

WOMAN
You tell me.

He looks the table over. She’s dropped two of each.

He drops the five and six but misses the three. She drops the nine and motions for him to go, again.

GRADY (CONT’D)
Your turn.

WOMAN
Not if I don’t want it.

He drops the two and three, but misses the eight.

WOMAN (CONT’D)
Go again.

GRADY
Thought you wanted to play pool.

WOMAN
I like watching you play.

O-KAY...Grady sinks the eight.

GRADY
I win.

WOMAN
I’m gone. You sticking around?

She finishes her beer, puts away the cue. Grady follows her across the bar. The second she’s out the door, he casts two exhilarated thumbs up to the patrons and exits.

SPIT
Lucky bastard.

EXT. DESERT — NIGHT

A sleek, new Mercedes slips down the road. Grady rides a Harley. Plays tag with it. When he gets close to the driver’s door, she caresses his thigh. He laughs and shoots ahead.

She turns onto a gravel road.

He spins around and chases after her.

The Mercedes’ headlights glow through the billowing dust...then vanish into the night.

My five top freebies...

Yummy of the Day put up his Top 5 Freebies -- i.e. male crushes he'd love to be with -- and challenged others to do the same. So...here are mine:

1. Chris Evans

He seems to take his beauty as a lucky joke, which makes him even sexier.

2. Rodiney Santiago

His abs may pay his rent, but what holds me is his non-stop joy at being alive and knowing what he has may not last, so best to make the most of it now.

3. Aidan Turner

Charismatic to the extreme, even when being a murderous monster...he could talk me into spending eternity with him.

4. Ryan Gosling

A goof who thinks he looks goofy and can't see that's what makes him gorgeous.

5. Joe Manganiello

He epitomizes what I always wanted to look like but never could because I'm pale skinned, easily burned, and have an awkward body construction thanks to childhood issues.

As for the rest of my day...it was spent working on Carli's Kills. A little restructuring, and suddenly the first 20 pages shoot past. I also turned one character from male to female. Much better.

Helps that I got my laptop power adaptor back, today. Only cost $66 to ship. For $79 plus tax, I could have gotten a new one, had them just snail-mail the old adaptor back to me and had it as a backup if I ever pulled this same boneheaded stunt, again. I'm an idiot about money. But then, aren't most artists?

Hey, I called me an artist.

Lesson hopefully learned...

I keep finding out that any time I try to save money, I wind up spending more. Latest case in point -- getting my laptop's power adaptor back. I'd heard nothing from anybody about it since last Friday, so I called the hotel to see if it had been sent and if they had a tracking number. The plan was for them to send it COD and I pay for postage when I get it. The hotel told me the Post Office returned it to them because there was no one to sign for it. That doesn't even begin to make sense.

I don't know exactly how COD works, but if they sent the package on Monday, would it have gotten to my place and back to Indianapolis by Thursday? I seriously doubt it. Also, why wouldn't the carrier leave a notice for me to come pick it up from my postal station, and give me time to do that? I'm supposed to pay for a COD with cash, when I don't know how much it is and whether or not the carrier will have change?

But I accepted their explanation and asked them to send it to me via FedEx. This time, I got a tracking number...and found that it's costing me almost as much as buying a new one. I'd have done better to leave the airport, rent a car and drive to the hotel to pick it up. I had plenty of time, but I thought that would be too expensive. So I've been without my laptop all week because I wouldn't spring the $40 for a car.

But that's how it usually works. I used to buy pre-owned cars and just pay to fix them when they broke down, as pre-owned cars will. Until I had enough of it, bought my Honda Civic brand new...and I'm still driving it nearly 16 years later, and for one hell of a lot less overall than doing the used car thing.

Same for shoes -- I got a pair at Target that looked right and felt comfortable enough...until I wore them to work all day and into the evening and got home to find bruises on the tops of my feet from where the crease in the faux-leather pressed into my skin. All they cost me was some of my points from Best Western, but I could have used those for something else.

So now I need to figure out how to pay for a pair of new shoes in the brand I like...which ain't gonna be easy. I used to buy them at Macy's, but the damned store doesn't offer "wides" anymore, and the ones they do offer are just a hair too narrow.

Plus I need new pants and shirts...I haven't bought clothes in a couple years and it's starting to tell on my appearance. I don't look homeless, yet...but I'm getting there. Thing is, I'm still too deep in debt from publishing my books to be able to afford anything, right now.

Friday's proving to be the 13th under a full moon, all right.

Oh...sigh...

I will be so glad when I get the power adaptor to my laptop back. My desktop is slow, at best, and when I'm trying to do anything on the internet, it stops dead for several seconds at a time and I get the spinning beach ball of death. Maybe I need a new relay; I've had my current one for 4 years. Isn't that a lifetime for wifi technology?

I'm calling the hotel, tomorrow, to find out if they have a tracking number for the shipment of my adaptor to me. It shouldn't take this long, really; I was only in Indianapolis, not exactly Alaska or England or anything. I'm halfway afraid they haven't sent it, yet.

Worked more on Ck but only added a little. I need to print the outline I did so I can reference it more easily. Keep me on track. Something the story's doing is shifting a bit to my non-linear style -- with Carli remembering things that led her to where she is, now. I don't know if I want that; it seems to be a problem when people read my work and I don't do A-B-C-D style.

I've cut back on how much I eat. I've always done light at breakfast -- juice and some herbal tea, a breakfast bar about 10am. Around 300 calories. Lunch under 400 calories. Diner about 6-700 calories. Couple snacks of 200 calories...so 400-500 more. 1-2 DPs -- about 250 calories (I drink a combination of Dr. Pepper 10 and regular, which works well and cuts my calorie intake in half). That's under 2200 calories a day, when I used to do 2500-3000. Hasn't made a hint of a difference in my weight. Unless I go for starvation mode, I don't think that's going to help me drop any of the pounds.

Starting to consider liposuction...

Elegance...

They sang this in a train station, in Germany...so wonderful...

I have a CD of another Icelandic group -- Edda -- that I bought by mistake but was mesmerized by it, when I listened. These harmonies give Gregorian Chants a real run for their quality.