RERUN: The Basic Craft of Filmmaking

The following film is a perfect example of exceptional film making. Some of you may have seen this short before, perhaps in the context of the entire BMW series, but I assure you on second viewing, when the construction of the piece is considered, it will take from you a new level of respect. How it can be so short but still so comprehensive and coherent I don't know. How the dialogue and voice over can be so sparse but every character so rich and complex I don't know either. It's at once a love story, an action film (some of which is only implied), an intense drama and, not least, a character study in full form.

The choices in music, sound design, what to show vs. what not to show and over all production design are inspiring. This is film in pure form. I must commend Wong Kar-Wai and Andrew Kevin Walker for a brilliant work.

writing under the influence
jeffc

Poetry That Wouldn't Pass a Breathalyzer: "Pulse, Blue"

"Pulse, Blue"

Love courses through my red veins.

Envy courses through my green veins.

Sorrow courses through my blue veins.

Fear courses through my black veins.

My veins course with things that seem natural,

but, when they pulse, it feels alien.

The feelings that you give me, when and where,

push the blood through my veins with little regard.

My veins house things of which there are no definitions.

My veins house them, unapologetically.

My veins will pulse until the day my heart stops.

My veins pulse for you.

written under the influence by

jeffc

My Obsession With Words and The Endless Search for a Muse

I feel homeless, lost in the haze of empty words. Why must a muse be a woman? I have found love, but with it, didn't come my muse. 

Let's start with my biting obsession with words, obviously of the English origin. It's a recent thing. Since I started actually reading to be specific. Until about four, maybe five months ago, I hadn't actually read a piece of fiction, front to back. Hard to believe? It is for me as well. Sure I fought through Bill Shakespear in high school in an out-loud class setting, and before that, even lied through many a book report in elementary school. I would read the first page, and the back cover. Then I would pick a few lucky pages from the middle, and with them, I would formulate the most asinine, but seemingly believable essay. After high school I would read a few self help books, which did little but manufacture a raging inferiority complex.  Long after, I would fall into the blind oblivion of creative commitment and the art of story telling. So, I went right to the source. The Novel. 

I picked up "Barbary Shore", Norman Mailer's second and relentlessly critically panned novel. I hadn't read "The Naked And The Dead", which separated me from the majority of those who had read Mailer. And thus, I had nothing to compare too. So, as a result of that naivety, I quite enjoyed "Barbary Shore". But, not for reasons one might imagine. In point of fact, I didn't even really comprehend the story, partly due to my limited knowledge of world politics, past and present. But, what I did enjoy were the words. I'll repeat; I enjoyed the words. The way he used words to explain things in such an eloquent, poetic and descriptive fashion. The way he manipulated the English language, as if it didn't own him, he owned it. 

Since, I have been through other Mailer books, even read Faulkner and Dostoevsky. And let me tell you, I will never, ever, turn back. At this point, it isn't simply the words of authors that bite at my mind. It's everything. A traffic sign signaling construction, a salon advertising services, a radio personality pitching a new single or even the man behind the counter at the gas bar. Why did they choose the words they did? What drove them to do so? How did those words find themselves in their vocabulary. Do I know these words? Should I know these words? Could I use them better?

Most of the time, when this obsession with vowels and syllables strikes, it's due to, if not Mailer, a film. And not just crazy elusive works of John-Luc Godard or Andy Kaufman. It can be while watching pop like "Definitely Maybe" or "Enchanted". The words they use. It makes me want to use them too. It makes me want to create. I want to have the same fun and the same liberty with the English language that they had.  I boil with desire.

And like many artists, I need a consistent vehicle to translate those very desires into works. Or do I? Do I really need a muse? Would Woody Allen survive with Scarlet Johanson? Would Lennon have written the things he did without the presence of Yoko? I have often yearned for a muse and never been given one. Often they are women but such is not the case for myself. I have found the love of my life, she is everything a man could want in this world, but perhaps not everything a writer could want. This has left me searching for a muse. And, in fact, I am infinitely relieved my love is not my muse, because as I migrate further and further down the rabbit hole, she would soon become more a muse than a love. 

But, I am left with a sort of disconnect. Every minute of every day I am compelled to write. Not a dream of mine. In fact, I was always a very poor reader and writer, and, in my opinion, still am. I had tutors, special education and even extra curricular 'English-as-a-second-language' courses. But, it's a force I can't ignore, and until it leaves me, I will accept it. The disconnect being, a constant influx of inspiration and content but with no muse to transport it to the fleeting masses. Obsession is the gasoline to which I have no vehicle. 

Forgive the grammar and spelling, I am into a few.

writing under the influence,

jeffc

Another Nomination: BlogNet Awards "Best Literary Blog"

So my self-indulgent ranting has earned A Writer Under The Influence another Blog Award Nomination; this time from The BlogNet Awards for "Best Literary Blog". If you want me to win, you'll have to vote.

BlogNet Awards had this to say about A Writer Under The Influence:

"Jeff Campagna is a writer…a very good writer. He mainly writes screenplays, but has dabbled into poetry and, obviously, blogging. The BlogNet Awards team enjoyed his candor. While he seems to attribute most of his talent to vodka, he does admit that, like any true writer he NEEDS to write about everything, good or bad. He admits it more eloquently than that of course. This blog review doesn’t unearth any great mysteries or teach us to conquer the world. It just tells us about one writer’s life. It tells in a way you’ll want to read more."

Who knew there were so many organizations out there giving out Blogging Awards? 

writing under the influence,

jeffc

Poetry That Wouldn't Pass a Breathalyzer: "Imbue On To Me and You"

Imbue Onto Me and You.

Imbue onto me and you,
The things that you and I must do.
Always consider and pursue,
The dreams that you and I deem true.

Speed bumps we must subdue,
And push, push on through.
For when the moment is in view,
Be certain it does not pass you

For these moments that I preview,
Are all too sparse and all too few.
These moments don't add up in lue,
And make themselves clear they fail to do.

written under the influence by,

jeffc

Poetry That Wouldn't Pass a Breathalyzer: "88"

"88"

In a seated position, straight is my back.
On the board lies 88 keys.
Some in white and fewer in black.

I position my fingers with ease and care.
I let the keys play themselves,
and play a song that is true and bare.

I can feel the chords strike the wire.
I can feel the honesty of the notes,
and every truth that they require.

Keys played for false reason,
Are the one true crime,
and falseness in any season.

A minor fall and a major lift,
I am reminded of my mother,
"The ability of music is but a gift."

Some are bright and fewer are dark
I notice the pattern of the keys,
and on a profound journey I do embark.

There will always be darkness in this life,
but a world can exist,
where darkness is less rife.

written under the influence by,
jeffc