So this week I had a mini-reunion with Cort Webber and Bobby Roberts on their new podcast "Welcome To That Whole Thing." Great (and a little weird) to be back in that studio again a year-and-a-half after the end of "Cort and Fatboy."
The lads' assigned discussion topic was a big one: "creativity" -- how I work, along with any Deep Additional Thoughts we might have on the topic.
On the morning of the taping -- in an attempt to get my game face on and wrap my head around a concept I frankly found a little nebulous -- I sent Bobby an email that slapped together a few lessons I've learned (usually the hard way) about doing creative stuff -- particularly as it applies to writing/drawing and trying to get paid for it. We got to some of it on the show. An edited/expanded version of the whole email is after the jump. There will be no test later.
As far as merch goes, I’ll have two prints that come in lovely custom envelopes, an educational comic I scripted, and my last 15 or so copies of "Sabertooth Vampire" Vol. 1. I'll also have a new sketch-card. Hope to see you there.
From 2009 to 2012, I drew “live comics adaptations” of Portland Opera productions -- speed-sketching the major story points as they unfolded onstage, then turning the drawings into little comics. “Opera, Drawn Quickly” collects them all. And now you can download it as a free 79-page ebook.
Full backstory after the jump.
A couple of years ago, economist Joe Cortright sent me an email with the subject head "Almost Random Inquiry from an economist." In it, he threw down a comics-making challenge.
Joe's an expert in the study of "industry clusters" -- as he described it in the email:
[Cluster theory is] basically the notion that businesses flourish and ideas happen faster and better in places where there's a geographic concentration of people and businesses interested in and doing the same kind of things -- think Hollywood for movies, or Detroit (once upon a time) for cars, and Wall Street for inventing diabolical and opaque ways of defrauding people and destroying the economy.... We're exploring alternative ideas for trying to communicate clusters in a simplified, non-technical way.... One idea we want to explore is some kind of graphic treatment, not unlike the narratives you do in CulturePulp.
So yeah, flash forward, and I spent a good chunk of last year working on an educational comic about economic theory.
Clusters and Your Economy: An Illustrated Introduction provides a quick 28-page overview of why industries tend to group in specific places -- finance in London, winemaking in California, Portland's "Silicon Forest" and coffee-roasting scene, high-end sports cars in Italy's "Motor Valley," and so on.
Boiling these ideas down into simple comics panels was a serious ability-stretch. I scripted, thumbnailed and lettered, in collaboration with Joe and Lotte Langkilde. Adrian J. Wallace did some of the best work of his career on the art. Bill Mudron provided colors.
If you're a media outlet and you want a review copy, drop me a line.
Oregon Children’s Theatre just staged a musical adaptation of Kelly DiPucchio and Scott C.’s children’s book “Zombie in Love.” OCT asked me, Lucy Bellwood and Graham Annable to join Scott C. at the March 8 performance and live-sketch the show. My hasty drawings after the jump. ( Here are Lucy's, BTW, plus some photos from the evening.)
Movie review in the Friday, Feb. 14 Oregonian....
The problem is that "Winter's Tale" wants to be a magical romance that leaves you feeling like the universe might be full of secret purpose, but the actual movie that was written and filmed is convoluted, over-narrated and deeply silly.
If you're going to title your film anywhere in the neighborhood of a Shakespeare play, even a "problem" Shakespeare play, you probably need to put a little extra shoulder into the screenwriting part of your job. Writer/director Akiva Goldsman -- adapting Mark Helprin's much-liked, much-vaster 1984 novel -- does not do this, though at least he starts things off with an intriguing story hook.
A man named Peter (Colin Farrell) is wandering around modern-day New York with memory issues. He finds mysterious items in a tiny attic space in the ceiling of Grand Central Station. We soon learn, in an epic flashback, that Peter has been the same age since 1916, when he was a thief chased around New York by a glaring gangster (Russell Crowe) and his bowler-hatted henchmen.
This is all fairly intriguing. But then, maybe 10 minutes into the movie, Peter is rescued from those henchmen by a blindingly white flying horse. [Exit, pursued by Crowe.]
And then that horse guides Peter to the home of the world's most ebullient young woman afflicted with late-stage consumption (Jessica Brown Findlay).
They meet cute (Peter's trying to rob her, she offers him some tea). And the movie starts sprinting down an increasingly corny, ridiculous road -- as everyone starts yammering about "destiny" and "miracles" and "light" and the forces of bowler-hatted evil being literal demons trying to "tip the scales" by robbing people of hope, or something.
There's nothing inherently wrong with trying to mashup "Somewhere in Time" and "Harry Potter," I suppose. And cinematographer Caleb Deschanel certainly makes it all look very pretty. But fantasy universes usually work best when they function according to a coherent set of ground rules. As adapted by Goldsman, "Winter's Tale" keeps piling on exposition that adds rule after rule after rule: Demons have to keep miracles from happening, specific miracles are assigned to specific people, demons have to get permission to travel, the stars in the sky are either departed souls or angel wings, stolen jewels can be used as holographic projectors, J.J. Abrams-style lens-flares have cosmic significance, the horse is actually a dog, and so on. It's all over-explained by actors who are frankly capable of better, though Crowe at least seems to be having fun (and anyone who can deliver the line "There'll be no miracles tonight, and her destiny is gettin' skewered!" with a straight face and an Irish brogue deserves something approaching respect).
Even worse, none of it seems to add up to anything significant. The process of Farrell figuring out his divine purpose finally gets so convoluted and schmaltzy, it feels less like "destiny" and more like "cruel cosmic joke," which is at odds with the romantic spiritual vibe Goldsman clearly hoped to achieve.
P.S. I highly recommend Drew McWeeny's lengthy decimation of the ridiculous theological underpinnings of "Winter's Tale" (a film he declares "the 'Batman and Robin' of magical realism") followed by his survey of cinematic "dream projects" gone horribly wrong.
(118 min., PG-13 for violence and some sensuality) Grade: C-minus
'Winter's Tale' (The Oregonian, Friday, Feb. 14, 2014)
A fair amount of traumatic stuff happens in "2 Autumns, 3 Winters" -- muggings, relationship tests, suicidal depression, even the odd life-threatening medical crisis and melodramatic coincidence. But writer/director Sébastien Betbeder's French seriocomic romance still feels light (or emotionally distant, depending), thanks to the film's fusillade of stylistic tics.
Betbeder's tale of aging art-school grads (Vincent Macaigne, Maud Wyler) falling in love is told as a near-relentless collage of fourth-wall-breaking monologues -- "High Fidelity"-style -- and peppered with chapter breaks, dream sequences, and clips from other movies.
The constant talking-head interjections keep the film at a slight documentary remove from its heaviest material; I would rather have seen certain key moments instead of being told about those moments by characters standing in front of green screens. But the cast's lumpy charm still wins the film -- putting it more or less in the neighborhood of Cédric Klapisch's "Spanish Apartment"/"Russian Dolls" series, entertainment-wise.
(France; 91 min.) Grade: B. Showtimes:
Writer/director Jan Ole Gerster's first feature "Coffee in Berlin" (originally released in Germany as "Oh Boy") does a fair job riffing on the usual beats of the slacker indie.
An unemployed college dropout (Tom Schilling) with serious life-commitment issues wakes up in Berlin and drifts through a seriocomic day that includes a disappointed girlfriend, a psych eval, an even more disappointed father, a movie-set visit with a struggling actor pal, a wacky neighbor, a wounded actress and that hoariest of slacker-indie clichés, the truth-telling barfly -- among other loosely structured incidents that may or may not serve as a twentysomething's wake-up call.
Schilling's character is just enough of a vaguely unpleasant blank that he's a little hard to root for, frankly, but the whole enterprise still manages a low-key appeal, thanks in part to its attractive black-and-white cinematography.
(Germany; 88 min.) Grade: B-minus. Showtimes: