Out of Focus

PAUSING FOR PODCASTS: DIVORCE GIVING ME CHILLS

There was a new episode of This American Life this weekend, and the theme was "Break-up." As usual, the entire episode is excellent, but nothing stuck me quite as powerfully as the second act called "But why?"

During a very tight 10 minutes, they first played an interview from 1987 when Noah Adams -- then host of All Things Considered -- talked to eight-year-old ("Nine, next month") Betsy Walters, a young girl trying to deal with her parents' recent divorce. She had written a letter to then-NYC mayor Ed Koch, asking for some advice on how to handle things. She figured since he was the mayor, he must be smart and might have an idea on how to help. Of course she wanted her parents to get back together, but all she was looking for was an answer as to why? The second half of the This American Life piece was another interview between Betsy -- now an elementary school teacher -- and Adams today, as she's almost 29.

I'm a child of divorce. My parents got married quite young -- Dad was 22, Mom not yet 20 -- and by the time I was four, they had been married 10 years ... but that was more than enough. I'll be 36 in just over three weeks. By this time in my father's life, he had an eight-year-old son and my parents had already been apart for four years. It was only once I reached my very late 20s and really early 30s that I even started to realize how growing up in this environment affected me. Don't get me wrong: my parents' divorce was probably the best thing possible in terms of me and my upbringing, and as far as divorced couples go, my parents handled it very well, never arguing in front of me; always making sure that I had a home with and knew I was wanted by both of them; and always making sure that every child's fear -- What did I do? -- was definitely not the case. Being a child of the '70s, I don't think my story is all that unique, and I think in lots of ways, I was likely luckier than many.

But this experience of mine certainly played a part in me finding myself virtually stopped cold on 42nd Street tonight, walking back to the subway after a show at Signature Theatre Company, and hearing this little, eight-year-old voice full of pain and confusion asking why? Why did her parents have to split up? Why couldn't or wouldn't they get back together? They tell me it's not my fault, and I don't think it's my fault? But ... why? At one point, Adams asks her if she now understands her parents divorce better, and she answered no. He then asked what she still doesn't understand. Transcribing the following doesn't have the proper impact, but even so:

Why did they have to go off and do it? Because, see, the most painful part was when I saw my dad packing up, and I really don't understand because ... it's hard because they won't tell me what happened to them, and I really want them back together and I don't understand why they can't.

When Adams and Walters begin their modern-day chat, it was fascinating to hear Walters describe how even though she remembers the 20 year old experience vividly, hearing it now as an adult with a greater understanding of what did actually happen was painful in an entirely different way. In her own words:

Then recently, I heard it as an adult, and it was so heartbreaking. I didn't think it was so sad when it was me. It was just what was going on. It made me sad to hear the pain in my voice, confusion, and now I hear it even differently as an educator.

There are certain things that certain media do quite well -- often better than others. There is a reason why This American Life is such a successful show -- because it uses the format of radio the best way possible. The juxtaposition of these two interviews, I would bet, is much stronger happening without a visual accompaniment. The emotion -- whether we would recognize it or not -- comes from the sound and tone of this little girl in a way that is likely far more effective -- and focused -- than had it been accompanied by her sad face. That may seem hard to believe, and yet, I'd still argue it to be true. I didn't give it all away: go listen for yourself.

WELCOME BENTEN FILMS

I would be more than remiss was I not to mention how huge a day today is for two friends of mine: Andrew "Filmbrain" Grant and Aaron "Cinephiliac, or rather, I'm-too-busy-getting-paid-to-write-to-update-my-site" Hillis. About a month ago, the two of them announced something I had heard rumblings about for over a year from Andrew: the formation of Benten Films, their very own DVD distribution label. And today marks the arrival of their first release: Joe Swanberg's LOL.

I haven't actually seen the final DVD product yet, but simply knowing Andrew and Hillis (I have trouble calling other Aarons by my first name, obviously!) and their goals for this venture, I have no doubt that this and the rest of the Benten releases are going to be everything one could want from a DVD and certainly far more than major or discount labels would give the kinds of films you'll most likely find coming from Benten -- a truly curated collection of American indies and interesting foreign titles that you might not hear about otherwise because someone who pays more attention to business rather than aesthetic doesn't consider it marketable.

Well, help Andrew and Hillis prove them wrong. All the talk right now is about the "mumblecore" movement. Whether or not its an actual "movement" and whether or not it's a "good" one is debatable with lots of people on both sides of the fence. In New York, "Generation D.I.Y.: The New Talkies" is happening right now at the IFC Center so you can decide for yourself. In fact, Swanberg's latest film, Hannah Takes the Stairs is running there right now along with a slew of other "mumblecore" films. Starting tomorrow is Aaron (another one? Dammit!) Katz's Quiet City, which, as it turns out, will be one of Benten's next releases in early 2008.

So help Andrew and Hillis make their first release a success. Try the disc out over at Netflix. Or better yet, if you've seen and like the movie (or hell, even if you haven't and just want to support to grass-roots cinephiles who want to bring something new to the marketplace), buy it! Hell, at $25.19, it's got free shipping without having to purchase another thing.

Good luck guys.

"$18 MILLION": GNAWING ON WOOL ISN'T SO BAD (EVEN IF THIS PUN IS)

I'm not completely sure what compelled me. I'm not actually a performer, or at least, not an actor. I learned that years ago, even before going to UCLA as a theater major. In fact, in high school, my theater teacher sat me down one day to tell my why he wasn't casting me in the role I really wanted in our Fall play. He told me that he thought I was one of the most passionate and intelligent students he'd ever had, and he had no doubt that I would find a career in theater if it's what I wanted; it just wouldn't be as an actor. Surprisingly, this didn't actually bother me. It just encouraged me to try other things -- tech, directing, producing -- which I discovered I enjoyed far more.

And yet, something compelled me. Maybe it was a little bit of slowly getting to know and watching the developing writing career of Kimmi; or my continuing awe at how much Rachel constantly gets done or is doing even as she always feels like she's falling behind. Or maybe it simply had to do with some personal things I've been discovering and thinking about recently regarding how I present myself or relate to people or, in fact, I suppose ... perform.

Whatever it was, about two weeks ago, I suddenly felt compelled to participate in one of the Moth StorySLAMs. Obviously, as an addict of film and writing, I'm fascinated by storytelling. As I was saying to a friend of mine at work yesterday, everybody has stories to tell. (He disagreed with me. He was fairly certain his father had none. But I digress ....) It's not having the story but being able to tell the story that counts. Whether on the page or on the screen, storytelling is both the thing about which I am both most critical and most admiring. And as a writer (meh) and filmmaker (HA!) myself, I obviously hope to think of myself as a storyteller. But also, being as critical of myself as I am, I don't always, in fact, manage to believe in my own abilities, and that, of course, leads to sometimes not even trying.

The way The Moth StorySLAM works is simple: they have a theme, and you have five minutes to tell your story. You stick your name into the proverbial hat (this time, a bag), and then throughout the evening, 10 people are selected to tell their stories. These aren't necessarily writers or actors -- anyone can do it. The stories are judged by three groups of audience members, and the best score at the end of the night wins.

After putting my name in for selection, I wasn't sure whether the "please, please, please" running through my head was a "please get picked" or "please skip me." I don't really get stage fright; at least, not when I'm on stage. But the anticipation can occasionally kill me. I downed two Heineken's pretty quickly through the first two storytellers. Halfway through the second beer, the evening's host Sara Barron called my name. Drink up!

As soon as I stepped-up to the mic, the nerves went away. Not sure why though: I wasn't really prepared. I had a few specific lines memorized; the rest of the story plotted out; but I hadn't really rehearsed. It hadn't been that long since I had last talked in front of large groups of people what with my hellish and exhausting days of Tribeca volunteer orientations, but it has been almost 20 years since my last acting class at UCLA where I had to actually memorize text and "perform" an entertainment for an audience. I never planned on memorizing my story like a monologue -- I didn't want to; I wanted it to feel more conversational and fresh -- but I did find that trying to rehearse at all was incredibly difficult. You know what's a lot harder (at least for me) than getting up in front of a a room full of 100 (or however many; The Bitter End was pretty packed last night) people? Standing in a room by myself, with nobody there to address and trying to talk for five minutes.

Anyway, I got up there; I told my story; people laughed at the right times; nobody really laughed at any of the wrong times; it felt good. It was also quite educational. I spent too much time embellishing the first half; found myself rushing a bit through the second; briefly lost my train of thought when the five-minute whistle blew even though I was very close to the end so I wouldn't go over that much; proceeded to forget not a vital plot point of the story but an important part of the telling; and then wrapped it up with the ending that I wasn't all that happy with even before I started.

My scores were OK, but as the night continued, I certainly discovered that unless you know it out of the park, going later definitely has its advantages. I followed a man who was a retired fireman. He told a really fun story about a firehouse practical joke, and aside from one moment in the middle where he actually lost his flow, stopped, and admitted to being really nervous, he did a pretty good job, certainly selling the punchline. But he was also a little like those documentaries that proliferate these days: average-made films which luckily have phenomenal stories to tell, and the subject-matter simply overcomes any flaws in technique. Again, he didn't tell his story badly at all; but it was pretty simple and straightforward and didn't really contain any surprises whatsoever. So when this really amiable, nice and even heroic guy who admitted to being baffled at his nervousness on stage since he used to run into burning buildings for a living finished, the crowd was certainly on his side, and the judges gave him all 8s. And I was next.

My scores were OK: the first judges gave me an 8.5; the second a 7.5; the last a 7. So I instantly was thinking to myself: did I do worse than I thought? I mean, the fireman was fun, but I thought I did better, and while I didn't have the big closing laugh he did, the audience definitely seemed with me and engaged all the way through. And as the evening continued and more people went, with the exception of the guy who won (who followed me, received very high scores, and was by far the most well-crafted out of all of us), I was surprised to see how some of the other scores matched-up compared to me. I felt better when, while waiting in line for the bathroom, one woman told me she loved my story and the judges had screwed me. A few other people came up to me after as well, telling me I did a really good job and seeming quite surprised when I explained I had just lost my Moth-virginity.

I meant to record myself so that I could really examine how I thought I did after and so as to recreate the text -- as I performed it -- here. Of course, I left my digital recorder at home, so that didn't happen. But if you're curious, after the jump, you can read my initial, pre-performance draft of "$18 Million" (the theme for the evening was "Money"). As I mentioned, last night was certainly different than the text which follows -- in some good ways and some not so good -- and there's a brief, but whole, section at the end I forgot to do ... but if you care, you'll get the idea.

Sadly, I can't try again at the next StorySLAM on Sept. 11 as I'll be in Toronto. The theme of "Beginnings" is one for which I actually have at least three ideas. Instead, I suppose I better start thinking about "Art" for Sept. 24 ... just in case I get picked again.

ANCHORWOMAN: WHY DID THEY EVEN BOTHER?

For weeks, Fox had been pimping their "new summer series" Anchorwoman. It wasn't even until this week that I realized it was a reality show and not a bad summer sitcom. Not that it would have mattered to me: I would have watched it either way, and had it been a good reality show, I would have loved it.

Instead, the one hour premiere (occupying the time slot of the recently concluded great So You Think You Can Dance) was, in fact, two 30 minute episodes, the first of which was so relatively trite, unimaginative and sleep-inducing that I couldn't make it more than 10 minutes into the second episode before I finally said to myself, "Why am I bothering?"

So, the news yesterday that the show was "canceled after one airing" came as no surprise, and really, it shouldn't have been one to Fox either. There was absolutely nothing interesting about this show. There certainly was nothing new in either the situation or the "characters." I think what bugged me the most was the simple fact that here is your typical fish-out-of-water story where all of the "real" journalists on the show are all up-in-arms about how having this blonde, leggy spokesmodel join their station as an anchor will damage their journalistic integrity, and yet, none of them seemed to have any issue participating in this program, which I would find much more troublesome if I was judging their professional chops. The worst of the lot is the other female anchor/writer/producer who is obviously meant to be the prime antagonist (albeit, not necessarily a "villain') because she's the one hemming and hawing and shocked and awed and mouth-gaping the most. And yet, not once was her face blurred onscreen to mask her identity.

Whatever ... the worst part is just that it was bad, not funny, not clever, not interesting and really a prime example of why all reality TV gets such a bad rap. Good riddance.

DIVO ALERT - JEKYLL: ONE OF THE BEST SHOWS YOU'RE PROBABLY NOT WATCHING

For anyone who thinks that this summer has presented a dearth of good television, you a) must not have actually been watching and, maybe more importantly b) definitely haven't been watching BBC America (Channel 106 on Time Warner cable.)

Among the several series I've been following on the Brit-caster is also one of the all-around best series I've seen this year: Jekyll is a modern reimagination -- a bit like a sequel, really -- of the classic "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" story. It's a sequel because it imagines a world where the Robert Louis Stevenson novel was actually based on fact, and our main character -- Dr. Tom Jackman played brilliantly by UK TV star James Nesbitt -- is mysteriously a direct descendant who shares a certain quality with his ancestor.

Nesbitt's portrayals of both Jackman and "Hyde" are simply some of the best acting you'll see anywhere onscreen. Additionally, if you're like to stare at the stunning Michelle Ryan before she turns in to Jamie Sommers in the new Bionic Woman, here's an opportunity as she plays Jackman's assistant utilizing her natural British accent.

But the best reason to watch Jekyll is to see the creative and imaginative way Steven Moffat -- one of the best writers and show-runners working in British television, having also created their original version of Coupling as well as writing some of the best episodes of the new Doctor Who -- navigates this territory.

The show in its current state is actually more of a mini-series with only six hours worth of episodes. The final two hours air this Saturday night at 8 PM (repeated at 11), and originally, BBC America had a full marathon of the show leading up to the finale. Those first four hours are riveting, and I'm not sure why the channel changed its schedule so that they're only showing hour four before the finale. But you should be able to still catch the first three episodes via BBC On Demand (channel 1011 on Time Warner), and I highly suggest you watch. Or, if you miss it, you can always Netflix it when the 2 disc DVD set comes out in about a month.

It doesn't look like the series will continue beyond the original six, which -- although I haven't seen the finale and have no idea whether or not it would make sense to go on -- I would love to see. The creator and star are busy enough with all kinds of other projects, apparently, and according to The Guardian's TV blog, Moffat is already quashing rumors that Nesbitt will be the next incarnation of The Doctor following the end of David Tennant's reign in Doctor Who. Whatever. British television is a whole different world from ours, and much of it is tremendous. But if you want to see some of the cream of the crop, check-out Jekyll.

YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME

This is a major something ... Fox and The Academy of Television Arts & Sciences apparently are totally devoid of the ability to find an interesting host so they've settled on ... wait for it ... a little longer ... no, it's just too good ... here we go:

"Seacrest OUT!"

That's right: in what can only be described as an attempt by ATAS and Fox to dumb down the Emmys and pay absolutely no attention to the actual artistry of television, not only will the awards likely go to a bunch of should-be-also-rans, but the show will be hosted by a Dick Clark-wannabe.

You know what would have been even better: Have Ryan Seacrest and Carson Daly double-team!

OK, to spend just one more second on this, I'll give Seacrest his props: when watching other Fox network reality show hosts like Cat Deely (on the brilliant So You Think You Can Dance or Adrianna Costa on the not-so-brilliant On the Lot -- not to mention a host of others -- it goes a long way to showing that Seacrest actually is talented and not everyone can stand on a stage and blather lots of nothingness with a smile while also seeming to actually have a non-robotic brain.

But come on ... the Emmys?

MISCELLANEOUS MISCELLANY: WEEKEND NOTES BIG ON THEATRE

I'm having motivational issues, so instead of motivating myself, I think I'll try to motivate anyone who happens by here wondering, "Hmm, what's good in New York that I may not know about this weekend." I'm sure I'm the only person with a blog doing that, so it should come in quite handy.

• Closing this Sunday is The Black Eyed by Betty Shameih. I just caught the show on Tuesday, and although I found the show somewhat uneven with a bit too much preachy statement making here and there, there is more than enough in Shameih's writing and a couple of the performances to recommend catching it. The show looks at four Palestinian women who meet in Limbo, all looking for men in their personal histories who they believe might be behind a secret door with all the other "martyrs." One woman is Delilah (as in "Samson and ..."); also there is Tamam, who suffered brutality at the hands of Crusaders; and then two from the modern era: Aiesha, who grew-up in a Palestinian refugee camp and became a suicide bomber, and a woman known only as The Architect, a Palestinian-American killed on one of the 9/11 flights. Jeanine Serralles' performance as The Architect is reason enough to sit through The Black Eyed mostly brisk 85-odd minutes. Her character begins mostly in the background, but when she takes command of the stage near the end, she is absolutely tremendous, filled with nervous energy and using her movement and voice to absolutely captivate the audience. For me, this was important because while I also enjoyed Emily Swallow as Delilah, I found Lameece Issaq and especially Aysan Celik (as Tamam and Aiesha, respectively) mediocre at best. The play begins and roughly ends with the words "Unanswered questions. Unquestioned answers." Occasionally, Shameih hits us over the head with this theme, but her examinations of violence, faith, violence in the name of faith, female identity and power (or lack of), U.S. imperialism. the Palesitnian struggle combined with diverse opinions about the best way to solve it -- depicted most specifically between Aiesha and The Architect -- are generally fascinating and well-handled. Only when Shameih becomes a bit too polemical and do the lines sound like parts of a speech from a protest rally do things get tedious, but not so much to completely undermine the show. If you can get to New York Theater Workshop in the East Village and in to see it (my performance on Tuesday was sold out), it would be well worth your time.
  

• Frost/Nixon, a fascinating look at the behind-the-scenes goings-on of David Frost's famous interview with Richard Nixon in 1977, also closes on Sunday. Written by Peter Morgan (also screenwriter of The Queen and The Last King of Scotland), the show brought Frank Langella a very-well-deserved Tony Award for his moving, sympathetic and riveting portrayal of the only American president to ever resign from office. The play is fascinating not because of how it recreates segments of these very famous interviews, but rather due to its incisive examination of not only a tragic plummet from power into -- and then eventually, even sadder, out of -- self-delusion as well as, and even more impressively, a wonderful look at the power of television. In 1977, a full 17 years after the Kennedy/Nixon televised debate that had its own impact on that presidential election, the true reach and influence of television as a forum and its strength and differences from older media such as radio and newspapers was still not fully recognized. For a piece of theater to do such a great job showing it is marvelous. Four performances left: get there if you can. And if you can't, oh well ... Ron Howard will be directing Langella and Michael Sheen (starring in the show as Frost) in a feature version for next year. I'm not sure whether that's necessarily a good thing, though.

NOTES FROM TRIBECA: IT SEEMS LIKE JUST YESTERDAY I WATCHED KING OF KONG AS A SUBMISSION

Wow, how a week as jusdt flown by. Now I'm way behind again with posts backing up just waiting to be written. But I have a relatively decent excuse. If you've happened to swing by here and paid any attention to my Twitterisms in the column to the left, you would have noticed a few mentions of a certain apartment that I was hoping to get. I hate apartment hunting (as I've mentioned here before), and as usual, this one was causing me my fair share of agita. Thankfully, the search is over: I saw a nice one bedroom in a part of Prospect Heights (for you non-New Yorkers, that's still in Brooklyn) which I categorize as "Aaron's preferred neighborhood"-adjacent. I can't afford to live exactly where I want to live, but I got damn close this time, and in a surprisingly nice and relatively good-size apartment all for a relatively inexpensive (thanks rent stabilization) price.

Anyway, that's why I've falled behind, so now I need to get back on the ball. And since today is Thursday, that also means the Tribeca email newsletter was released, this week making one very important announcement: The 2008 Tribeca Film Festival will be held April 23 through May 4, and we start accepting submissions on Sept. 10. That means, I start watching submissions not long after, I'm sure. The various deadlines start in November, and last year, November was when I started viewing. If you're prepping a film you'd like to submit to the festival, while it doesn't hurt you by any means to get it in right at the deadline, there is something to be said for the early bird. Although, with that said, if you're submitting a film to the festival, make it the best you can and use the time you have to do it.

One of the very first films I received and watched last year was The King of Kong. I fell in love with it instantly, going in to the office after the weekend saying that we had to show it and how it would be perfect as part of the Tribeca/ESPN program we were developing. Not so long after, it was announced that the film would make its world premiere at Slamdance. Then it was also accepted at SXSW. But I was very happy when we were able to offer it a slot too.

I'm going to write a separate post about the movie itself: Picturehoues bought the rights to it out of Slamdance, and it opens tomorrow in New York and LA. The Picturehouse distribution deal was part of a larger deal so that New Line and HBO Films could make a dramatized version of thie documentary. The director Seth Gordon (who talks to Elvis Mitchell in a pretty interesting episode of "The Treatment") will also be making the new narrative version. It should be a challenge because had this film not been a documentary, it would have seemed impossible to believe. But instead, The King of Kong is one of the most fun, fascinating and entertaining films you'll see this year, and it's much more than simply two guys playing arcade games. (It's also much better than the Sundance entry Chasing Ghosts which, personally, I found fairly dull.) We have our own video interview with Seth on the Tribeca website.

And by the way, if a feature or short for the festival seems like too much work, and if even putting a seven-minute film for [email protected] seemed like too much work so you missed last week's deadline, we have another contest that just opened, and there's a good chance you already own all the equipment you already need. Nokia is sponsoring a "Slice of Life" competition in which people can shoot 30-second clips of virtually anything as long as they use their mobile phones. Click here for more info, details, rules, and all that other specific and important stuff.

"JURY SERVICE AND YOU" (OR WHATEVER IT'S CALLED): A REVIEW

I lived in LA for eight years, seven of them over the legal voting age of 18. During my time there -- all of which was I registered to vote and had a drivers license -- I was never once called to jury duty.

October 23 will mark 11 years living in New York -- nine in Manhattan and two in Brooklyn. I am currently sitting at the Kings County courthouse in Brooklyn, in the juror assembly room, called for jury duty for the third time. Part of me being here today is my fault. I last was called just under three years ago, and every time you serve, you're excused for at least four years (and based on something said during this morning's orientation, I think now it may be up to eight). But that was in Federal Court, and I can't find my receipt of proof. Besides, with my pattern, it seems like it would just postpone things for another year until I was eligible again, and being called now, at the end of the summer, is certainly best for me schedule-wise. So here I sit.

The first time was in New York County Superior Court. The second, Federal Court. This time, Kings County Superior Court. Three different courts, and three different experiences. I was placed on a jury the first time, but as an alternate, which has to be the worst of all worlds. Sitting through the trial is the best part because, depending on the case, it could be (and was) really interesting. But as an alternate, you're only there in case someone from the jury has to drop out, and if that doesn't happen -- which it didn't -- they let you go before deliberations. So you sit and watch and observe and think and, eventually, start to judge, but then you're sent on your way with nothing to say.

The second time, I waited around all day, never called to a panel, but then not having to return. Apparently, the State of New York has tried to make jury service even less time consuming. Unless I misunderstood things, instead of being almost guaranteed to be here at least three days (like the first time I was called), now, if I'm not selected to a jury by the end of the day, I'm excused.

But the thing that really struck me first thing this morning after arriving as requested at 8:30 AM and waiting until about 9 AM for anything to actually start was the movie. OK, fine ... the video. That's right; now when you arrive for jury duty, the very first thing they do is show you an educational video about the justice and jury systems so that everyone can know why we're all here and what to expect from the .... zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Sorry, I nodded off while reminding myself of the experience.

It's not that I don't think such a video is unreasonable or even invaluable, and I do understand (as scary as it may seem) that a lot of people don't understand the system, but this video is a total piece of crap. Its obvious purpose is to make the people here feel like they're doing something valuable -- which they are -- while also convincing them that they will likely leave behind their jury service with a completely different idea of it than the horrors and time-wasting experience they imagined. And yet, the very first thing they do is show us the most annoying, boring, borderline condescending (considering that this is a room of adults and not third graders) piece of crap possible, made worse by a brief courtroom reenactment. Said reenactment involves performers who I really hope are actual government/court employees because if any of them are wannabe actors, giving them a paying gig will only serve to prolong their delusions.

Yes yes ... I know that this is not an artistic endeavor and it's likely to be somewhat dry and lacking in any sort of creative wit and ingenuity. But considering the entire purpose of this video, does it really make sense to lull everyone to sleep at 9 AM when their perspective is at its most I-don't-want-to-be-here? And it's not like this video was made by a high school civics teacher with his/her class. The damn thing has (the late) Ed Bradley and Diane Sawyer narrating two-thirds of it. And by the way: it's between 25-30 minutes long, so I'm not complaining her criticizing some little five minute blip in the day.

You know what would be cool and cost-effective? A contest. Open it up to film school students and other young filmmakers; create boundaries and context so that the winner isn't anything inappropriate. Obviously, we're talking about the court system here, so you're not going to expect or want anything too out there and you need to get the vital information across, but, to repeat the never-forgotten lessons from UCLA screenwriting teacher Richard Walters' lectures, Entertainment comes from Intertwine. To entertain, you're really just talking about capturing somebody's attention. When you capture someone's attention and keep it, that person is more likely to actually understand and retain what you're giving him/her. I would place money on the fact that most of the few hundred people sitting in the Kings County Courthouse with me today can barely remember a thing about today's video, or, whatever they can recall, they probably already knew. It's not so different from watching the safety video on an airplane. Most people who have traveled have seen it so many times that even if they do watch it instead of reading or whatever, they're minds are likely glazing over a bit and drifting due to their familiarity with the subject. Now imagine an 30 minute airline safety video ... and you get the idea.

So come on court sytem. A video isn't such a bad idea, but why does the idea have to produce such a bad video.

THE WORST PART OF NEW YORK LIVING

I love New York. I love living in New York. This October will mark 11 years here for me, three longer than I was stuck in LA and only six shorter than my time growing up in San Francisco. And looking forward, I don't see myself living anywhere else, certainly not anytime soon. But moving ... moving in New York City ... finding an apartment and moving in this town ... they only thing as bad that doesn't actually qualify as tragic (i.e., death of a loved one, etc.) is job hunting. I often don't know which is worse, but as I don't have to job hunt right now but I am looking for an apartment, I'm going to go with the apartment hunting.

And somehow, not only does it never get any better; it progressively gets worse. In my 11 years here, apartments and rents that seemed outrageous not so long ago are now steals. I'm totally priced out of Manhattan (at least, the parts of Manhattan I would live in, and there are plenty), and now, I even seem to be priced out of where I want ... nay, need ... to live in Brooklyn.

It used to be that parts of Brooklyn weren't necessarily so much cheaper than Manhattan, but at least you would get more bang for your buck. That still may be the case, but the bang has gotten much quieter. I currently live in Clinton Hill, a neighborhood between Ft. Green and Bed-Stuy. Five years ago, Clinton Hill was still, shall we say, less than desirable and not on the gentrification ladder. Less than two years ago when I moved in, it was just starting to become a popular neighborhood with new buildings being constructed, but rents were still reasonable. Not anymore, though. My friend's one bedroom in Clinton Hill, even further east than where I live now and arguably in Bed-Stuy, just blocks from where they shot Dave Chappelle's Block Party is costing $1750. Yes, it's a brand new building with a gorgeous kitchen area and all new appliances including dishwasher, but otherwise, it's certainly not a huge apartment.

I've come to the decision/realization that location is, right now, more important to me than space. That is a huge thing for me to decide, though, because I have a ton of shit, and stuff that I don't want to get rid of. But I have decided that I will likely place a lot of it in storage until I can afford a larger place. Of course, that statement would likely blow the mind of anybody who doesn't live in New York since I'm looking at apartments that cost up to $1500 per month.

Today I went to look at a place in North Park Slope on Sixth Avenue near Sterling. This is basically my ideal location without moving back to Manhattan. It's close to subways, close to my gym, close to my bank, close to a Duane Reade, close to a great grocery store, close to Prospect Park, close to the best part of Fifth Ave in Brooklyn, close to the Atlantic Center ... you get the idea. But the apartment? Tiny. They call it a "Jr. one bedroom." And yet, I'm sitting here struggling to decide whether I should suck it up and take it? Why? Primarily because I love where it is. Second, because there's no broker's fee involved. A fee on an apartment like this (with a rent of $1450) would probably be about $2500.

But it's soooo small. My Queen size bed would likely fit, but nothing else would; and because of where the closet and the window is in the bedroom, it would likely be a very awkward layout. The living room would be an OK size if one end of it wasn't the galley kitchen and the refrigerator -- because of the location of the living room closet -- wasn't in the living area proper.

And that's the problem ... when one lives in New York, one considers places like this. And because of how quickly things get snapped up, it's hard to determine whether one has seen enough before to deciding to jump. I probably won't take this place: if there wasn't actually a wall separating the bedroom space, it would probably be better/more manageable size-wise. But the process of looking and finding and getting approved ... it just makes me want to scream.

(On that note: if anyone can help make it easier, e.g., you know of an available place ... I hope you emailed me before even getting tot he end of this post! Thanks!)

If you're curious about some of my other New York apartment adventures (particularly involving my incarcerated landlady from my first NYC abode), you can re-read my "Acts of Catharsis" here: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.