A little patriotism from Thomas Paine

. . . as if he were speaking to current events of the past few days and past few months (counting backwards).

Facebook people will need to go to the source.

The Wisdom of a Child

I never said anything, but I missed my son Padraig's birthday last month. My children were quite literally taken from me in the middle of the night (well, over Labor Day Weekend) as my ex-wife closed up her home and drove to Omaha, Nebraska to live with her parents.

We were already in a long distance custody relationship, but I had found a way to afford a monthly visit since they were only 650 miles away and the drive was manageable. I was trying to give my boys a life and a pattern they could rely on. Then all four of us had the rug pulled out.

Charisa did this without saying anything to me, and in fact while pointedly telling my own boys that if they dropped any hints to me in the matter I would "do something bad and we [meaning her and them] would end up living on the streets." This is a direct quote from Padraig, my seven-year-old at the time (turned eight a week and a half ago), who did what he was told but didn't believe a word of it, as I'll explain later.

You see, I had applied for custody recently. I hadn't been by her house making any demands or anything (c'mon, I live in a different state), I hadn't been AWARDED anything in terms of a new custody arrangement, I had simply asked the court to review our situation. It's been over four years and both of our situations have changed so much since 2005, I figured it was time for a sit-down. Well, she blindsided me with some unfounded accusations regarding child support payments, and while I spent my time gathering evidence and writing responses about that (I was working "Pro Se") she left.

Looking back, I can now see little moments where my sons tried to say something. When their mom's mother ("Oma" as she is called) came to help with the move, 11-year-old Caelan called me and let me know. He was under oath not to say why she was there, so he began to say she was there to "visit and help us" and then his mom immediately made him hang up (even though it was on his own phone that I bought him). I should have known that it was an unusual call--he made it at 6:00 AM.

Caelan also texted me the day they left, though again I didn't understand it at the time. On September 5th I got two messages--"Caelan loves dad:-)" and "Bye:-)". We text each other often, so I thought again they were innocent. It wasn't until a phone conversation I had with an ex-neighbor of hers the next day (Sept. 6) that I began to put together the idea that she might be planning a move, but by then (I would later learn) it was too late.

Returning to Padraig. When I say he did what he was told but didn't believe a word of it, I mean he kept quiet because he was told to, and he was told I would do "something bad" if he said anything to me, but as soon as we spoke on the phone after they arrived in Omaha (I called her mom's house before she was ready to tell me, chagrining them both it seemed), he told me everything and when I asked him simply what he thought I would have done he shouted to the whole room, "Dad wouldn't have done anything!"

Morgan wanted to say the most, I think, because in the days leading up to their move whenever it was "his turn" on the phone with me he would go off by himself somewhere, a couple of times to climb trees. But they are good boys and they honor their mother. He stuck to talking about video games, and in fact kept calling me on his own to ask if I would replace a Gameboy of his that he lost. Looking back now, that is the kind of thing you pack for a trip.

I will put my best foot forward in this situation, but right now I remain officially unemployed, on disability, and Omaha is 1,591 miles away. I'm not going to be able to get to see them as often as I used to, not even by plane. When I told Caelan, he cried; that was something that wasn't explained about the move.

Morgan continues his record of profound statements; he is getting frustrated with of all of this. The other day as we were on the phone, I asked him about the weather, I think, and after telling me, he said he was tired of "making things up," of "just talking about stuff," and "not really talking." I instantly knew what he meant. The boy is nine years old, but he gets it, and I said so.

I agreed with him that there is a big difference between talking on the phone every once in a while and seeing someone every day to hug and love and talk to and really talk about their day. I said THAT was the better way to get to know people. He said "Yeah." I told him I missed him and I had tried to be there for him, but that still wasn't my call, and maybe someday it would be.

But he is so right. It isn't just a boyfriend/girlfriend cliche'. Long distance relationships don't work. Anybody who says they can make it work has never been in one. Or never had one forced upon them.

And yes, I know, everything I just wrote flies in the face of my "No Comment" entry, but I have to get these feelings down somewhere (see "Journals Vs. Blogs" part 3).

Hollywood Sleeze

This story keeps getting worse and I can't stop myself from commenting on it any longer. This is the "Hollywood Newbie" blog after all, right?

But I have been in this business for fourteen years. I have loved it for much longer--you become a film guy because you start out as a film buff. Or at least I like to think and hope so (some of my peers' knowledge of film history scared and dismayed me in my undergrad and even graduate studies).

Starting from the point of being a gee-whiz kid with all of this, I guess I never really lost it. I love movies. I love stories. I love to see what happens when a camera is pointed somewhere.

That is why I am so appalled at what has happened over these last weeks, with the camera being pointed right back at the Hollywood of 2009. My industry. The people I am trying to "get in good" with, as my career is still young and I am still much less known than I want to be professionally, and less than I need to be if I am to support my boys, my wife, my life.

Scores of these people are defending the man, justifying him, saying it wasn't so bad, get over it. After all--he's Roman Polanski.

Something Adelina and I have talked about often is the fact that we would like to have a daughter in the near future. (I know my record isn't great on that front, but nevertheless.) I would want her to feel safe around me. On the most basic level I would want her to feel safe about where I work and the people I work with. Right now, I am scared for us both. For myself and the little girl I don't have yet.

Director Roman Polanski did some amazing things 30-40 years ago in the world of the movies. He deserves credit for that, but there is an old Jewish prophet who says it well: "If [you] do evil in my sight, that [you] obey not my voice, then I will repent of the good, wherewith I said I would benefit [you]."

Here Jeremiah is talking for God about a whole nation (hence, my edits) but oh man is the principle the same. What on earth did Polanski ever do that can be justified against his RAPE OF A 13 YEAR OLD GIRL? Now, I admit, in the past, I have enjoyed "Rosemary's Baby" and "Chinatown" and thought they were justifiably held up as works of art in their time, but, c'mon, they were made before he did the monstrous thing he did, and they do NOT somehow absolve him now.

In fact, I don't think I can ever look at anything he did before the same way again. I always had in the back of my mind a vague idea that he'd had "underage" relations with a girl and left the country to avoid prosecution, but this new arrest has brought forward the true nature of it--the (BEWARE! VERY DETAILED!) court transcripts are available online here--and I can't understand how anyone who knows the nature of what he has done could stand to know him. Let alone defend him.

What if it had been your daughter?

"9" - Good Short Film, Great Visual Experience, a "Meh" of a Movie

Earlier this year, I described the death of my mother-in-law and what the funeral was for her mostly Buddhist family. A time to mourn.

In Mormon circles, funerals are a time to celebrate the previous life and eat potatoes. They are basically reunions.

My grandmother died last Monday. And while it was sad, it isn't the focus of this entry. It gave me an opportunity to be together with three of my five brothers for the first time in a long time, and so we did what any group of brothers might do--we hit the multiplex. (Mind you, this was before the service.)

We went out to see "9," that new Tim Burton produced 3D animation that was directed by the young filmmaker Shane Acker, based upon his short film from four years ago.

Here's my take. That's right, the "Hollywood Newbie" site is actually going to weigh in on Hollywood!

The film is based on a short subject that Mr. Acker did four years ago. It was nominated for an Academy Award at the time. Since it generally takes four years to make an animated feature, I can imagine Shane Acker walking out of the Kodak Theater and being tackled right then by Mr. Burton.

It's pretty good. Pretty great actually. Nice to have an animated feature out there that doesn't rely on mice or rabbits or talking dogs. The problem with it, however, is in the adaptation.

In expanding his story to a full 90 minutes, Mr. Acker relied too heavily on the plot of his short film. He didn't allow himself to carry the THEME and SPIRIT of the short film over and then just go with it.

What I mean is, the two films have exactly the same ending, despite the first one being about 8 minutes long, and the ending only works on an eight minute movie. The new film, co-written by Pamela Pettler, the excellent screenwriter for "Monster House," has so many threads that need to be explained that the old ending just doesn't work anymore. I can imagine Shane sitting in the story meetings insisting that he wanted his campfire/clouds ending anyway, and that was what he was going to get!

For those who have seen the movie, here's how I think it should have ended:

The "evil machine" that destroyed the world, the one that they awakened and which has been gathering their souls all through the movie, that sent creepy surrogates after them, which they had been fighting so desperately against, was created by the same scientist who created the nine of them, right? The movie told us this. The movie also told us that it was itself soul-less, and that was what was wrong with it. The scientist poured his own soul into them to "fix what went wrong."

So, what if, instead of triumphing against it and freeing the trapped souls before destroying it (souls that just fade away anyway) they discover at the last possible moment that they are SUPPOSED to be gathered? I was hoping for a shot of the last rag doll, maybe #1, screaming and fighting to be free, after 9 reassures him that this is what he is meant for and leaps into the belly of the beast.

Then, after they all are gathered in, the menacing red eye changes color, and the machine begins to rebuild the world it once destroyed.

Not only would that have been so much more emotionally satisfying, it would have made more sense.

No Comment

Unfortunately, I can't fire my way out of this dynamic. (There is much more that has been going on in the background in my personal life, but in the spirit of Journals Vs. Blogs I am keeping it off this board.)

As usual for my Facebook friends, if you aren't seeing a video (videos being something I've been incorporating a lot lately) go to the original post.

Vintage Corsa

Last night, I went to my first meeting of the Orange County Corvair Club in months. I still pay my yearly dues (a whole $25), but since getting married and, especially, wrecking and selling my last Monza last summer, it has been harder and harder to find the time.

I made the time this month because a friend of mine from Chapman recently made a film that I wanted to tell everybody about because it features a Corvair.

Man, was I glad to be back. I missed the sights. I missed the SMELLS. And I missed the guys. There were a few new members, too--like a guy who has built an all-electric 'Vair that is a near-perfect replica of the Electrovair II, except that it is a convertible, and he claims to have had it up to 100 mph. Everyone was glad to see me, which was fun, and asked when I would be buying another car.

Who knows. Who knows.

Remembering 9/11

I know this is a little early. But I have been wondering how I was going to do this and the perfect way has opened up.

I was on a Metrolink Train that day. Commuting to my job about 70 miles away in order to support my family, when people's cell phones started ringing with updates and mysterious news. By the time I got to work and logged into my computer, the images were on the web.

With deference to my friends who may not share the same world view as I do, I find the following presentation entirely appropriate.

P.S. - If you are reading this on Facebook, you may not see the video, you have to go to the original blog post to watch it.