2020-09-30

Detour, revisited (short story 28)

  Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories. This is a spoof on part of the film noir "Detour". I love the film, and write a post about it ("Public domain film noir: Detour (1945)"), but parts are unintentionally funny and inspired me to write the story below.


*
Roberts has his thumb out and his ratty old sports jacket buttoned up as best as he can. His fedora is pulled down to try to keep out the cold. It’s only in the 50s but the wind is blowing along this long flat stretch of highway in South Dakota, which makes it seem colder. An old guy in a rusty old Ford 150 pulls up. “Where are you headed?” the old man asks. “LA,” Roberts says. “Sounds good.” “Okay, hop in then. My name’s Sam.” Sam unlocks the door. “Thank you,” Roberts says climbing in. “Al Roberts.” Roberts takes off his hat, placing it on his knee, and unbuttons his jacket. “It’s getting a bit chilly out there, compared to Kentucky.”
“You started out in Kentucky? Ain’t ya a little far north for LA?” “Yeah, but I hitched a ride from a trucker in Kentucky and this is where he was going. It was west, so I stayed with him.” “Yeah, South Dakota is west of Kentucky, I’ll give ya that. I’m going to Montana.” “So, you're from Kentucky?” “No, I’m from North Carolina, near the coast. Born and raised.” “Why leave? What’s in LA?” “Movies. I want to be an actor.” “You done any acting in movies I've seen?” “I did some community theater. And I did some commercials.” They chat off and on until they’re a good ways into Montana. Not one thing Roberts says is true. Sam didn’t believe him, or care much anyway. Sam didn’t think much of hitch-hikers. After Rt 90 joins Rt 94, Sam pulls into a truck stop. “We’re just outside Billings. This is where it ends for me. You can hitch a ride on Rt 90 to Butte then get out and hitch a ride south towards LA on Rt 15.” “Thanks much, Sam,” Roberts says, getting out. Roberts thought about killing Sam but just couldn’t get in the mood. Besides, Sam’s truck smelled funny and he didn’t want to drive to LA in a smelly truck. As Roberts gets out, Sam looks behind him at the truck bed. The top of Janice’s knitted cap sticks out of the tarp. The blood is visible from his angle, but not Roberts'. Janice was the last hitcher. Sam makes a mental note to readjust the tarp when he stops for gas. He liked riding with Janice more than with Roberts, and was glad to be rid of him. There’s a bus station down the block. After Sam drives away, Roberts walks to the bus station and buys a ticket for a bus to Butte, then goes into the men’s room to wash off.


*
Roberts has his thumb out and his ratty old sports jacket buttoned up as best as he can. His fedora is pulled down to try to keep out the cold. Behind him is a sign for Rt 15. In short order, two girls up front and a guy in back, all in their late teens stop next to Roberts. “We’re going to Reno,” Betsy says. She's blond with a pink t-shirt. “I’m headed for LA, but Reno sounds good to me,” Roberts says. “We’ll give you a ride if you buy food and gas,” Ginger says. She's a red-head with hard expression and a temper. “I can do that.” The guy unlocks the back door. “Are you a serial killer?” George asks with a smart-alecky grin. George seems charming and easy-going. It's a good act. “How did you know?” Roberts laughs. “I’m Al.” “I’m George, she’s Betsy and she’s Ginger.” “Thanks for picking me up.” They chat, tell jokes, eat in restaurants, all the way to Reno. Roberts makes sure they all order dessert in the Applebee's they stop in located 10 miles outside Reno. On the road, Roberts hears faint, muffled yells and bumping sounds coming from the trunk. He notices George eye him after each one, so Roberts launches into a new joke or riddle to deflect the attention. He figures it was someone who didn’t pay the bill. He’d do the same if her were them. They drop him off at a truck stop in Reno.


*
Outside that Reno truck stop, Roberts has his thumb out and his ratty old sports jacket flipped over his shoulder. It’s a nice day and he’s looking all cleaned up after a hot shower in the truck stop bathroom. A preacher with a blue clerical shirt and tab collar drives by in a beat up old Toyota. About 30 yards down the road she stops and puts the car in reverse. Roberts walks towards her to meet her halfway, and is a bit shocked to find the preacher is a woman. "Rubenesque" is the phrase that pops into Roberts' mind. She's a big woman, big arms, big hips. She cranks the passenger window down, as the car’s too old for electric power windows. “Would you like a ride?” she asks. “I’m going to LA,” Roberts says. “So am I. I passed you by but felt sorry for you.” "Thank you." Roberts gets in. He notices a dog asleep in the back on a blanket. "That's Betsy, my old yorkie-doodle. She's twelve," she says. “Sweet dog. I love terriers. I’m really glad you stopped. Are you a preacher?” “I’m Reverend Helen Ratchet of the Episcopal Church of Bakersfield, but you can call me Helen.” “Al Roberts. I got a degree in philosophy from UVa but didn’t have a course on religon per se.” “The University of Virginia?” “In Charlottesville. I was born there.” “A long way from there to Los Angeles. What’s in LA for you?” “I’m visiting my brother. I save money hitch-hiking. Little known fact: if you want to be rich, don’t get a degree in philosophy! Ha, ha.” Reverend Helen laughs at that too. “I know what you mean.” They chat off and on until they’re just outside LA. Besides disguising her annoyance at Roberts smell, which she’s good at, not one thing she says is true. But Roberts lies about everything too, which she sees clear as day. After a long day of driving, she pulls over on a deserted section of a highway near a cliff. “... and so the bartender says, ‘Is the Pope catholic?’ Ha, ha. I love that joke. Well, Al, here we are. LA’s not far now. Thanks for the company.” Al just stares blankly at the dashboard. “Let me help you,” Reverend Helen says, getting out of the car and walking around to the passenger side. She opens the door. Roberts has a huge knife sticking out of his chest. She leans him towards her and twists him around so she can grab him under his arms. With a heave-ho, she pulls and drags him out of the car over to the cliff, then pushes him over. Reverend Helen gets back in the car. Betsy wakes up and stretches. Helen pets Betsy behind the ears and and drives off. “The liars have a certain smell, don't you think Betsy?” she says to herself. She pulls out a pine scented spray can from under the seat and sprays the passenger seat. “Much better.”

2020-09-26

Photography
 design principles
 according to Johannes Itten (part 1/2)

Johannes Itten (1888 – 1967) was a Swiss painter, designer, teacher, writer and theorist associated with the Bauhaus before starting his own school in Berlin. He won the Sikkens Prize in 1965.
One of Itten's paintings from 1916, Der BachSanger (Helge Lindberg):
Except for this painting of Itten, all images below are mine. Feel free to use them as you like (even for commercial purposes), but please credit them to me: for example add "(c) David Joyner used by permission." The basic references used here are
  1. M. Freeman, The Photographer’s Eye, Focal Press, 2007. (Note: The latest 2019 edition has no mention of Itten in the index, but the original 2007 version does.)
  2. J. Itten, Mein Vorkurs am Bauhaus. Gestaltungs und Formelehre, Otto Maier Verlag, Ravensburg (1963). Translated as Design and Form: The Basic Course at the Bauhaus, Thames and Hudson, London (1964).
Design principle: Two important ingredients of photographic composition are contrast and balance.

Balance is the relationship between contrasting elements.

Laws of form, discussed in detail below, describe these relationships.

Contrasts come in a variety of manners. This post illustrates some of the basic contrasts according to Itten.

We will see how Itten introduces other design elements via his "laws of form". For example, two other design elements entering into photography are:

Direction: Using implied movement (via motion blur, for example) to create the illusion of displacement.

Rhythm: A repetition of one or more elements, creating harmony.
Laws of Form and Shape
In design theory, "form" is any visual element in an image, as opposed to we commonly call "negative space" (an area of the image with little or no contrast value). Sometimes a form is also called a "positive value" in the image, while a "negative value" is really negative space in the image.
  1. Proximity - Nearby visual elements are grouped together in the mind
    In this example, the cars/gondolas of the ferris wheel and the birds lined up on the railing get grouped into shapes.
  2. Similarity - Similar visual elements in a photograph are grouped together in the mind
    In this example the vertical stripes of apartments with the same colors are grouped together.
  3. Closure - Visual elements which are grouped together form an outline shape
    In this example the triangles of books at the Peabody Library get grouped together.
  4. Simplicity - The mind tends to prefer simpler compositions (symmetry, balance, simple shapes)
    In this example there are only two colors (blue and tan) and two objects (one bird and one building). The building is made of simple rectangle.
  5. Continuation - The mind tends to continue shapes and lines beyond where they end.
    In the above example, the rows of cemetery tombstones seem to go on forever.
  6. Continuation, 2 - Grouped elements with an implied motion are assumed to move together.
    In the above example, the runner and 1st baseman move in sync with the out-of-shot baseball.
  7. Continuation, 3 - The mind tends to continue shapes and lines beyond where they end.
    In the above example, the skater is mostly seen in shadow, but we know he’s there.
  8. Separation - To be perceived, the object must stand out from its background.
    Of course this collage-type shot (it's from a single shot of a lamp) is artificially separated, but at least it makes Itten's idea clearer.

2020-09-12

Nate the Happy Painter (short story 27)

  Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.


*
Nate, in well-worn shorts and a faded t-shirt, searches for coffee in the kitchen he shares with three others. There are dishes in the sink, the pantry is bare except for some cans of spegetti, and the refrigerator only has moldy cheese in a baggie and some peanut butter. There’s actually more food caked on the walls, stove and oven that in the fridge and panty. No coffee in this drawer ... nor in that. Under the sink? Nope. He washes his stubbly face in the sink, and dries off with the dirty dish towel. Nate goes back to the kitchen table and his notebook and plops down in the chair. Tired, coffeeless.

The phone rings. He lets it go, he knows it’s not for him. “Answer the phone,” says room mate George. It’s probably for George, Nate knows. It rings again.

“Answer the fucking phone,” says Tom. It could be for Tom. Probably George though. It rings again.

“Goddamn it, answer the phone,” yells Derek. Derek is having sex right now with his girlfriend Mary, so he can’t bother answeringing up.

Nate picks up on the fourth ring. “Yeah?”

“Nate? This is Brandon.”

“Haven’t heard from you in awhile.”

“Well, Anna and I have been busy fixing up our last house.”

“How many do you have now?”

“Uhhmmm, I don’t know. Six? No, seven now. We just bought another one. Forty five hundred square feet. In fact, that’s what I called you about.”

“Yeah, I can paint it for you.”

“You read my mind! Anna loved the job you did on our last house. Here’s the deal: we got an estimate of five thousand from a local company. Will you do it for three? We’ll buy the paint, drop clothes, brushes, rolls, everything.”

“How long?”

“Actually, we’re going on vacation, touring Europe and then we’re visiting Anna’s parents. It’s just be you in the house. Can you finish in three weeks?”

“No problem.”

“I’ll stock up the panty with food before we go.”

“Do you have a coffee machine?”

“I’ll make sure your all set with a coffee machine . Thanks man, you’re really saving us a lot of money.”

“No problem.”

“Come over and Anna will tell you what paint schemes she’s got in mind. I’ll send the address. It’s about fifty miles out of the city. Take a taxi. We’ll pay for it.”

“I’ll get packed and be there in a two or three hours.”


*
Anna, Brandon stand in the middle of the living room with Nate. The entire house is practically empty, but the floors are clean and the walls are dirty. Anna and Brandon look like a typical young yuppie couple in love. In old sorts and shirt, Nate looks ... well, like he’s about to start painting a house.

“Egg-shell white,” Anna says, indicating the gallons of paint and supplies in the corner of the room. Nate checks them to make sure he’s got enough. He nods, “White.”

All three move into the dining room. “Princess Ivory,” Anna says with a sweep of her arms, “a very soft yellow.” Nate checks the color sample on the cans and nods, “Light yellow.”

They pass to the neighboring kitchen area. “Summer Lily,” Anna says. Nate checks the color sample on the cans and nods, “Yellow.”

Brandon shows Nate the fridge and panty stocked with food. This continues on to the library, the foyer, and all the other rooms on the first floor. They all move up to the second floor. “All the bedroom will be two-tone, two walls one color, two walls another.” They move from bedrrom to bedroom, checking colors and supplies. The second floor also has a small reading room/office. “This one will be two-tones, but the upper half is Vienna Violet and the bottom half is Breeze Blue.” Nate nods, “simple enough.”

They go back to the first floor. “Any questions?” Brandon asks.

“Where do I sleep?”

“The basement, which is also where the coffee machine is,” Brandon says.

“There’s also a bed, bathroom, and the washer and dryer. You can paint the basement however you like.”

“Anything?”

“The limit is your imagination,” Anna says with a smile.

“Cool.” At this Nate cracks a small smile.


*
Nate stands at the front door looking outside, waving to Anna and Brandon driving away. “Have fun on your trip!” Anna tooks the hork and zips down the road.

Nate shuts the door and heads downstairs. “First things first,” Nate says to himself. He gets a workspace set up for writing, makes coffee, sets a timer on his cellphone for 2 hours, and sits down at his laptop. Tap, tap, his fingers march a slow beat. Tap, tap. He types a sentence, then deletes it. This goes on for two hours. Ding, he cellphone alarm goes off. He finishes his coffee and heads upstairs.

“White room,” he says making his way to the living room. He lays painters cloth, applies painters tape to the edges, mixes the paint, and gets to work. By the evening, it’s finished. He cleans the brushes in the basement tub, then heads to the kitchen for food. He eats and reads a novel he brought along, turns out the lights and goes to bed.

The next morning, he gets up, makes coffee, sets a timer on his cellphone for 4 hours, and sits down at his laptop. Tap, tap. Same routine. He gets a couple of pages out, but he’s not happy. Ding, he cellphone alarm goes off. He finishes his coffee and heads upstairs.

“Light yellow,” he says making his way to the dining room. You know the drill.

Next day, same thing, different room. A few more pages. Each day on the first floor is about the same. The writing is difficult, and not many pages come out.
The second week, Nate starts painting the second floor. More colors to use when painting the bedrooms. Each room is two-tone, and the colors are a little more variety. Pages come out a little better, not much, but a little. His best writing effort is that day when he paints the small reading room/office in light purple and blue.


*
The third week is his last week in the house. He can use whatever colors he likes in whatever pattern he wants. His creative side comes alive and his page production explodes. Each morning he gets up earlier and earlier and, each morning, and the words fly off the page non-stop until the alarm goes off. When he paints, he paints quickly and confidently, with a clear vision. He uses a variety of brushes, and colors but, on occasion, will paint over a section he doesn’t like or needs to be revisited. He paints everything using a different composiiton. Even the inside of a door to the bathroom is painted different than the outside.

Coincidentally, as he finished the last space, his cellphone rings. “How’s it going? We’ll be there tomorrow morning,” Brandon says.

“Just finished,” Nate says.


*
Nate’s back in his kitchen, in the apartment he shares with Derek and George and Tom. The same dishes are still in the sink, but the panty is full and the fridge is well-stocked. Now, there’s actually less food caked on the walls, stove and oven than in the fridge and panty. Nate starts to brew coffee. He pulls out his favorite cub from the cabinet in anticipation.


*
Brandon and Anna are downstairs with Susan Gessen, an art gallery owner. “Five thousand for the door,” Susan says.

“How much for that wall?” Anna asks, pointing to the large wall with an abstract mural.

“Fifty thousand, if I can get extract it safely.”

“We covered the wall with wallpaper then canvas over that,” Brandon says.

“How much for the whole thing?”

“Ninety thousdand.”

“Deal,” Anna and Brandon say at the same time.


*
Nate sips fresh coffee from his favorite cup. His cellphone rings. “Hey, man, I still have your routing number, so I just did a direct deposit in lieu of a check. Hope that’s okay,” Brandon says.

“I saw it. Three thoughsand dollars really helps, thanks,” Nate says.

“No, man, thank you.”

“Anytime you need a house painter, let me know.”

“Funny you should mention that, we might be buying another place in a few months after doing so renovations on this place. New appliances, some landscaping, that sort of thing.”

“Cool, hit me up then. Later,” Nate says hanging up.

2020-09-05

On Albert Bester's "The Demolished Man"

I was motivated to read this novel after hearing a story by David Mamet in his masterclass on writing. I described the story in my blog post on his class.

Alfred Bester (1913-1987) wrote science fiction, but also wrote for TV, radio, and comic books. He was an editor for a travel magazine for many years. In 1936 he married Rolly Bester, the actress who played the first Lois Lane on the radio show Adventures of Superman.

Among his many short stories and novels, Bester is perhaps best known for The Demolition Man (1952) and The Stars My Destination (1956), both serialized in Galaxy magazine. The 1952 novel won the first ever Hugo Award given at the 11th World Science Fiction Convention.

I'm not a lawyer but here is some information which suggests both of these novels are in the public domain. The Internet Archive has The Demolished Man, scanned from it's publication in Galaxy, (part 1, part 2, and part 3, and likewise for the 1956 novel). While there is an indication that Bester renewed the copyright (see this search item for the 1952 novel, and this item for the 1956 novel), the copyright page of Galaxy indicates that Galaxy owned the copyright and so it seems to me, as a non-lawyer, it is Galaxy that had to renew it. (I base my reasoning on the section "Who May Claim Renewal" in this copyright.gov pdf.)

I've typed all of The Demolished Man into latex, including the original artwork, for fun and to learn Bester's writing style by forcing myself to pay attention to the details. A really terrific novel by an excellent writer.

2020-08-31

Goodbye Buddy (short story 26)

  Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.


*

 

In the back seat of their big old sedan sit three kids, 7 year old Tommy, 5 year old Carol, and 3 year old Debbie. Tommy and Carol are buckled in, while Debbie’s in a car seat staring out the car window in wonder. Tommy and Carol act silly. Tommy calls Carol a “Carol-Barrel-Feral-daryl-big-barrel” and Carol calls Tommy a “Tommy-orgami-commie-big-dommy.” When they both laugh, that’s Debbie cue to join in with her own high-pitched laugh.

Fred and Marcie are in the front seat, somber. It’s a humid, overcast day, and looks like rain, but it's holding back. Marcie strokes the greying hairs of their beagle-mix Buddy, who she holds in her arms. Buddy’s awake and stares blankly with his foggy grey eyes. He’s been blind for a few years and has been going deaf recently. 



Fred pulls in the parking lot of the Animal Hospital. “I’ll be right back,” Fred tells his kids in the back. Fred gets out and Marcie opens her door. Fred somberly takes Buddy in his arms and carries him inside. Marcie sniffs, shuts her door, and watches Fred and Buddy go inside.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Tommy asks Marcie. “Nothing,” Marcie says without looking at Tommy. Carol tickles Debbie and pokes Tommy in the arm. This starts another sequence of silly laugh-inducing behavior from the back seat, that continues until Fred returns without Buddy. 

Fred gets in the car, pulls out of the parking lot, and heads back home the way they came.

Eventually the silliness in the back seat dies down and Tommy asks, “Where’s Buddy?” 

“Buddy was sick, sweetie,” Marcie says.

“Is Buddy at the dog doctor?” Carol asks.

“We had to put Buddy to sleep,” Fred says, almost apologetically. “What does that mean?” Tommy asks. "He's sleeping?"

“Is Buddy sleeping at the vet’s?” Carol asks.

“Buddy was sick. The vet put him to sleep permanently. He’s not coming back,” Fred says.

“Buddy’s not asleep, he’s dead?” Tommy asks.

“Yes, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Marcie says. Carol starts to cry. Then Tommy starts to cry. When they both cry, that’s Debbie cue to start her own high-pitched, loud wailing.

“Couldn’t you wait until tomorrow?” Carol asks.

“It was his time, honey,” Marcie says.

“No it wasn’t!” Carol said, snot running down her nose.

“He’s not asleep. Why did you say he was?” Tommy asks, in between sobs.

“It’s just an expression,” Fred says. “He was fifteen. That’s a very old age for a dog.”

The rest of the ride home was like this - crying followed by occasional sobbing questions - but, deep down, Tommy didn’t believe Buddy was gone. Buddy has been around the house ever since Tommy was born.

That night, Fred came into Tommy's bedroom to tuck him in for bed. 

Tommy told his dad about thhe times he teased blind old Buddy, picking his up and placing him in front of a wall then loudly calling him from another room. Buddy would walk into the wall and Tommy would laugh like the immature, sometimes cruel, little snot he was. He thought nothing of making fun of Buddy, when Buddy was alive. Now that Buddy was gone, he couldn’t stop thinking of how mean he was. This started a new round of crying.

“I’m sure Buddy’s in heaven and he forgives you,” Fred says, handing Tommy another kleenex.

“How do you know?” Tommy asks in between sobs. 

“He was a nice dog, don’t you think?”

“He was the best.”

“It’s in his personality. Are you going to do that again, if we get another dog?”

“Never, dad. Will God forgive me for being mean to Buddy?”

“You know it was wrong and you promise to do better in the future, right?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“I think God forgives you and Buddy forgives you. And you mom and I forgive you. I love you, kiddo. Get some sleep and let Buddy live a happy life in your dreams tonight.”

“I’m going to dream about playing with Buddy.” 

“Good night,” Fred says, kissing Tommy on his forehead, turning out the lights and softly closing the door. 

Outside, the rain finally stars pouring. And Tommy starts to cry again. 

2020-08-26

Breakdown and review of Magic (1978)

 Magic was written by William Goldman (based on his own novel of the same name) and directed by Richard Attenborough. It starred a young Anthony Hopkins and Ann-Margret. 

Warning: Spoilers below!

The first part of this 1978 film takes place in Hollywood, California, the rest is mostly in a few cabins on a lake in the Catskills.

Breakdown:

* We pan around the room of Merlin Jr, an old, sick magician. All kinds of magician's nik-naks are scattered around the small room (including an old ventriloquist doll). Merlin Jr is wheezing away, alone, laying on a couch, covered by a blanket.

* Corky Withers (young, bright, shy) enters. Merlin asks how his act went. Corky lies: he knocked them dead. Flashbacks to his act intercut with their conversation indicates the audience was bored and Corky was very nervous. Merlin Jr doesn't buy the story that Corky was successful. Indeed, onstage, Corky eventually cracks and calls the audience names. Merlin says Corky needs to "find himself some charm."

* Some months later, talent agent Ben Greene, who is handling Corky, is entertaining George, a CBS entertainment executive at a Hollywood Lounge. They talk about Corky and his act: magic combined with comedy using his ventriloquist dummy Fats. Both Ben and George are impressed with Corky.

* Corky's dressing room has a photo of Merlin Jr and a photo of a teenage girl (Peg, as we'll learn later). Ben enters and they talk about his act. Ben sees great things in Corky. Corky wants to know when he'll make it big. Ben says when they eat at the Four Seasons Restaurant he'll know.

* A scene of Corky on the Dinah Shore Show was cut in the movie.

* Corky and Ben meet at the Four Seasons restaurant in NYC. Ben says George wants Corky to star in a pilot for a new show on CBS. One thing: they need Corky to take a physical. Corky refuses "on principle" and walks out.

* Corky goes to his hotel room and packs up. He has a conversation with Fats, but there's no indication that Fats knows things that Corky doesn't. It doesn't appear Fats is a supernatural presence. Fats complains by Corky packs him into a special carrying case. Then Corky checks out and takes a cab out of NYC. 

* Corky and the cabbie talk about Corky's career as they drive up to a lake in the Catskills. After they arrive Corky pays the cabbie an extra amount to not tell anyone where he was driven.

* Corky rents a cabin on a lake from Peg, a lady his age. After they are alone in his cabin, Fats reveals an aggressive, creepier personality.

* Corky gets settled in and goes to Pegs house and flirts as he gets soap and towels for his cabin. She thinks Fats is cute and invites Corky over later for some wine. On the walk back to the cabin, Fats and Corky have a strange sexual conversation about Peg.

* Over wine, they talk about Corky's career. He says he's afraid of success. It's a long scene. He confesses he had a crush on her in HS. She knows. She tells him she's married (her husband's out of town) but the marriage is rocky.

* Corky returns to his cabin. Fats wants to know how it went with Peg.

* The next day, Corky and Peg walk in the woods. Peg asks about Merlin and what tricks Corky has in his act. He shows her a simple magic trick with an acorn.

* Back in the cabin, Corky shows Peg a complicated card trick (requiring her to think of a card and he guesses it). It doesn't work and Corky gets very upset. Corky confesses he's loved her all his life and that he never expected to find her here. He forces Peg to try it with him again. She's uncomfortable and worried about his reaction but they do it again. This time it works and Corky says "I didn't fail".

* That night she spends the night in his cabin and they have sex. Fats listens in the next room. He wants her to leave her husband Duke. She says that's impossible.

* He walks her to her house. He says he's serious about running away. She says she wants to think about his offer some more.

* Corky goes back to his cabin and talks to Fats. He leaves the front door open. Fats wants to go back to NYC. Corky says he doesn't want to discuss it. Fats insults Peg. Corky starts to strangle fats. Ben Greene shows up on his doorstep.

* Corky makes up a lie: he and Fats are practicing a new routine. Ben doesn't buy it. He now knows Corky's crazy. He asks if this is why he refused a physical exam. Corky lies and says he's just afraid of success. Ben says he knows good doctors who can help him. Fats keeps interrupting, tells Corky that Ben is against him, thinks he's crazy, wants him to see a shrink. Corky tells Fats to shut up repeatedly. Ben starts to leave. Corky asks him to stay, to see the new acts. ben says, he'll stay if Corky can make Fats shut up for 5 minutes. If he can't Corky has to agree to see a doctor. Corky agrees. Ben starts a watch. Corky breaks down and Fats belts out a long nonsensical speech. Ben gets up and leaves. Corky and fats argue. Fats tells Corky he's going to get locked up in an asylum if he doesn't stop Ben. Fats tells him to use "MEE-MEE- MEEEEE!" to stop him.

* Ben chases after Ben and repeatedly hits him over the head with Fats until Ben collapses in the woods, unconscious.

* Interrupting, Peg yells a question about dinner from her porch. He yells back an answer. She goes back in. Fats complains his head is broken.

* Corky and fats are in his cabin, Corky taping up Fats' head. Fats tells Corky to empty Ben's pockets, replace them by lots of stones, and swim Ben's body out into the middle of the lake.

* Corky does that, but when he gets to the middle Ben wakes up. They fight in the water and Corky drowns him. Corky swims back. The ripples in the lake fade from moon-lit dark to morning light.

* Corky wakes up, goes outside his cabin. Peg is there she says Duke arrived home late last night. He's suspicious and watching them now. Duke wants to meet Corky.

* Corky gets Fats and returns to Peg's house for some coffee. After small talk, Duke leaves to lock up some of the unoccupied cabins on the lake. He discovered Ben's car, unoccupied and returns to Peg's house. Corky says the car must be Ben's (as though he's never seen him). Duke asks him to call around to figure out what's going on. Corky makes a phone call and pretends to be talking to Ben. They get into an argument.

* Later, Duke and Peg get into an argument in their bedroom. Duke thinks Peg has slept with Corky.

* Later, Duke and Corky are out in the lake with fishing poles. (It appears Peg has gone to town.) They get out in the middle of the lake and Duke tells Corky that Peg admitted she slept with Corky. Corky laughs it off. Duke gets his line snagged on something heavy. Corky says he's cold and wants to go in now. (Note Corky is without Fats for over 5 minutes...) Duke keeps reeling in his line. Finally, he reels in a log. They row back to shore and spot Ben, lying on the sore, half in and half out of the water.

* They get out and examine the body. Corky lies and says it's not Ben. Duke tells Corky to call the hospital and tell them to come right away. Corky runs off. Duke tries to revive Ben but gives up after he realizes Ben's dead. 

* Duke enters Corky's cabin while Corky is in Peg's house. He snoops around and finds Ben's wallet hidden in a drawer. He takes the wallet and starts to leave when he sees Fats in the kitchen. He walks over to Fats. Fats stabs Duke to death. As Duke collapses, the camera pulls back to reveal Corky.

* Corky asks Fats what is he going to do now? Fats says to wrap both bodies in a sheet, dump them in the lake, clean the blood up off the kitchen floor and get in the shower. 

* Peg returns. Corky tells her Duke went hunting and kicked him out. Peg tells Corky that she's decided to leave Duke and go with Corky, but she has to wait for Duke to return form his hunting trip first. They agree to go get packed to be ready to go.

* Corky packs in his cabin with Fats. He tells Fats that Fats will not be going with Peg and him on their trip. Their act together is over. Fats is enraged. He says he's the only reason Corky because famous. He tells Corky he has to kill Peg, to stab her with the knife. Corky stabs himself to death instead. 


Review of script:

The script is published in one of William Goldman's books (Five Screenplays). This is the version I'm using.

While entertaining and very well-written, it is formatted quite different from a typical spec script. (This script was contracted upon reading Goldman's manuscript for the novel this is based on. It is very detailed in terms of editing suggestions and camera directions.) Sluglines, if they exist, are all non-standard. All caps are used liberally to indicate where the camera is to focus. None-the-less, readable and very engaging.

About the perspective from which the story is told, I can't help to think that this is a story about a very unstable young man with an unhealthy obsession over a woman his age. The doll Fats represents his worsening psychological issues. As the film evolves, it's revealed Corky has what I guess would be called a split personality. The doll Fats represents his self-centered part of his character and Corky himself, as the world superficially sees him, is his bright, sweet, kind self. If it were about a supernatural doll doing evil things to help Corky, one that has corrupted Corky somehow, I'd feel more comfortable with the story. (I'd also prefer we follow Peg more closely, making this a little more about her.) But Corky is the protagonist, and a very non-sympathetic one at that. The story simply explores an aspect of his worsening psychosis in the framework of a horror movie.

Screen grab from Magic (1978)
Peg, Fats, and Corky 


Review of the film:

In a "monster in the house" movie, a "monster" (Fats) is introduced into the "house" (namely Corky, or his world) as the result of a character flaw or sin. It's like a fable, giving us a moral lesson. The sin here is Corky's egotistical desire to be liked and successful. To have an act that never fails. As a result, Fats comes into his life and the selfish side of him is uncontrollably channeled into Fats. It gets worst and worst, until Fats makes Corky do terrible things, all so he can do what he wants. The only way to defeat the monster is for Corky to kill himself. That's a moral lesson?

The acting is good, especially Ann-Margret. The very young Anthony Hopkins is solid but doesn't have the engaging smoothness he commanded later in his career. The editing and pacing are good. Good camera work and direction. Is it scary? Not really. It's shot as though it's a horror (with jump cuts, as usual), but we are simply watching a poor man's mental health dissolve before our eyes. If you like these types of psychological thrillers, this is the movie for you.

2020-08-17

An episode of "Gracious Gardens" (short story 25)

  Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.


*

Gracious Gardens is a soap opera for senior citizens. It's on TV or the web or cable or something. You've seen it. As you know, it takes place in a two story nursing home and hospice care facility in the Baltimore-Washington corridor called Gracious Gardens. Actually, it’s three stories if you count the basement, but that’s underground, for storage only, secured by sophisticated electronic locks, and only accessible by a special key card.

Stay tuned the latest episode...


On the first floor, in the nursing care wing, Alfred Jones is alone with Stanley Johnston in Alfred’s room. No one calls him by Alfred, he hates that. Everyone calls him Jonesy, even the staff, well except for the very busom, very uptight, and very by-the-book Mrs Margery Farnsdale, the head caregiver. She insists on Mr Jones. 

 Jonesy is an 82 year old with a bad back, prostate problems, and heart arhythmia. He walks with a walker, but that’s really just an act. He can walk fine. Stan has bad knees, poor circulation, and high blood pressure. Stan uses a cane. 

 “Stan the Man! I got percoset, tylenol with codeine, vicodin, generic cyallis, viagra - the real thing, twenty-three joints of medical marijuana –” Jonesy says. 

 “Give me a vicodin, three cyallis pills, and two joints,” Stan says. 

 “You got it. Who’s the lucky lady?” Jonesy asks. He gets the pills and joints from a hidden compartment in his dresser and hands them to Stan. 

 “Brenda,” Stan says. Stan hands Jonesy a roll of bills. 

 “Have fun,” Jonesy says, counting the bills and then putting the money in his hidden compartment. “Leave the door open,” Jonesy tells Stan as he exits. 

Leslie Smart enters and shuts the door. “At it again?” she snaps. Leslie has diabetes and cancer but as far as Jonesy knows the big C is in remission. 

 “I provide a public service,” Jonesy says. “How are you, Lee? Did your screening come back okay?” 

“Public service my ass.” 

 “What did the sonogram say?” 

 “It said fuck you,” Leslie says and hobbles to the door. “Leslie, what was it?” 

 “Fuck you, you fucker.” Leslie opens the door and leaves. Jonesy uses his walker to get out to the hallway. He watches Leslie limp away. 

Bill Harding comes up behind him and pats him on the shoulder supportively. Jonesy turns and greets him. “Hey, Bill.” Bill’s had a series of mini-strokes but gets around with a walker. He thinks and speaks okay but has problems processing TV. Somehow the audio and video don’t sync together in his brain. 

“Wanna talk?” Bill asks. 

 “Not in my room,” Jonesy says, heading to Bill’s room next door. Bill follows him in. 

 “I heard her cancer’s back,” Bill says. 

 “She told you?” Jonesy asks. “No, she told Marge. Do something for her. Flowers, whatever.” 

 “She wants a puppy.” Bill laughs. 

“No way in hell. They aren’t even getting a comfort dog in this place. Marge is allergic to dogs.” 

“That battleaxe? I thought she was bulletproof.” Jonesy says. 

 “Everyone's got a chink in their armor, Jonesy. Maybe even you” Bill hands Jonesy a roll of bills. 

“What can I get you?” 

 “Vicodin."
...

It’s 2:15am and Jonesy’s alarm buzzes him awake. He pulls out a small flashlight, flicks it on and pulls an ID smart card out of his hidden compartment. The picture on the face looks nothing like him. Because it isn't. He pockets the flashlight, cracks open his door and looks out. He knows the shift change is now and they are having a staff meeting of the guards, so no one is monitoring the security. He goes down the hall to the “No Admittance” door and swipes the smart cart. It clicks up and he slips down the stairs to the basement. He cracks open the basement door and walks to the storage room. He opens it and swipes the card again on the refrigerated medicine cabinet. He grabs a few pills from each of the bottles and puts each different type of pill in a separate baggie. Then he retraces his steps and hides the stolen pills in his hidden compartment. 

Lastly, he grabs a huge wad of cash from his stash of bills and stuffs it in his pocket. It’s all his money, and he’s been saving for awhile. He uses his walker to go out to the front desk. A bald guy, in a Gracious Gardens monogrammed jacket, is manning the phones. 

 “Busy night, Smooth?” Jonesy asks. 

 “Hey Jonesy, what are you doing at this hour? It's past curfew.” 

“I gotta request.” 

 “Shoot.” 

 “A puppy for Leslie. Flowers for Marge. White roses.” 

“Roses for Marge?"

"So she'll stay quiet about Leslie's puppy."

"About that puppy? No way.” 

 Jonesy pulls his roll of bills on the desk. “Count it.” Smooth counts it and whistles softly. “Wow.” 

“You and the missus can take a trip with the kids.” 

 “What kind of puppy?” 

“The cute kind. And deliver it tomorrow night after lights out.” Smooth nods. 

Jonesy hobbles back to his room with his walker. He’s crying. Everyone's got a chink in his armor. Even Jonesy.