Limitations + Sausages = Good

Wisconsin native Orson Welles once said:

"The enemy of art is the absence of limitations."

After which I'm sure he added "please pass the sausage." But he couldn't have been more right about either.

We haven't even officialy begun pre-production and I can't count how many times I've already heard "Your budget is too small. You can't make a movie for that!"

Obviously, I disagree.

I believe that money makes things easier, not better. There are hard costs, of course, and we'd like to work with (and pay) talented people, cover our collective ass legally, and give the film a real chance to succeed in the marketplace. Filmmaking is not cheap, but the last time I checked, creativity was still free.

From the Hollywood Reporter:

Accepting reality is a crucial part of a director's work, which -- arguably more than that of any other artist -- requires functioning within the limits of the possible.

"Any filmmaker has to balance the creative aspects and the practical, money aspects," said David Cronenberg, director of "Eastern Promises." "That is a normal part of filmmaking; it is one of the many tricks you have to be able to do."

Paul Haggis, the director of "In the Valley of Elah," said he welcomes financial limitations.

"I don't know what I would do with all the money in the world; I think I would be a very bad director. (Limitations) make you think and challenge yourself."

I understand it's convenient for an independent movie to roll out the virtues of thrift and creativity, but I truly believe it's honorable to create more from less. After all, just imagine what the poor ancient butcher would have done when given a couple pounds of scrap meat, a few yards of intestine, and nobody to eat either.

I'm betting he and Orson would have lots to talk about.

The Super and the Natural

Put your nerd hat on.

Long suspected, but never proved, NASA scientists recently discovered that the Northern Lights get their energy from a stream of charged particles flowing like a current through twisted bundles of magnetic fields. The solar wind carrying these particles consists of the fourth state of matter - plasma. Plasma is simply an ionized gas - it has one or more free electrons, which are not bound to an atom or molecule.

Here's plasma at work:



Rather ghostlike, eh?

This is where it gets kooky and you have to suspend disbelief for a moment.

Many paranormal experts believe that ghosts manifest themselves through the use of a visible ionized gas, namely plasma.

In his paper, "Towards a theory of ghosts: plasma and psychospheres," Marinus Anthony van der Sluijs writes:

It would seem, then, that the psychosphere is an electromagnetic field or at least has an influence on electromagnetism. But how could an electromagnetic field possibly take on the visual appearance of a ghost? This question has to my knowledge never been answered in existing literature and it is at this point that I would like to introduce plasma as the possible key to decipherment of the ghost enigma.[15] A plasma is an ionised gas, which is by definition located in an electromagnetic field. The particles of the plasma rearrange themselves according to the field lines of the magnetic field, so that a plasma in a field with a sufficiently strong current becomes a visible manifestation of the magnetic field. The shape a plasma takes on, therefore, is the shape of the magnetic field. It is now generally acknowledged that plasma accounts for 99.9 % of the universe; well-known examples of plasma formations are stars, the sun, the auroras, lightning, and fire. I would now propose the following working hypothesis for a new theory of ghosts:

A ghost is a plasma formed when the percipient's electromagnetic field overlaps with the electromagnetic 'psychosphere' of the – often distant – agent and the combined field strength ionises the gas particles in the air.

This hypothesis could be tested by a detailed comparison of the morphology of ghosts with plasma physics. Although I am in no way a specialist in plasma physics, a general reading of literature would support the following observations:

• Ghosts often glow or are visible in the dark. This is a property of plasma.
• Ghosts run the gamut of sometimes being completely transparent and sometimes being completely opaque. Opacity is a function of the density of the plasma.
• Ghosts occasionally produce sound, but they often have difficulty with it, fail to say something, or merely utter an eerie cry. Plasmas, such as auroras and lightnings, are frequently accompanied by sound.
• Most ghosts are stationary, but some are engaged in some activity or move around. Plasmas could be either stationary or mobile.
• Ghosts are sometimes seen passing through walls, but often open doors like ordinary people. There would be no boundaries for moving plasmas, although it appears that the agent urges the plasma to react as a living person would do.
• Ghosts never leave physical objects behind. Plasmas are simply ionised gases.
• Many ghosts start off as a ball, then become a ring or a humanoid form.

Hogwash or science? You be the judge.


Northern Lights energy source discovered

Towards a theory of ghosts: plasma and psychospheres

Writing about hauntings

Alex Epstein, screenwriter and blogger extraordinaire, analyzes his experience watching and re-watching The Amityville Horror and Poltergeist. Even though they both occupy a soft spot in my heart, I couldn't agree more with his take. I saw them both as a child, but there is no doubt that they're a little cheesy now.

Alex writes:

We're writing a haunted house movie, so we watched the AMITYVILLE HORROR and POLTERGEIST. I'd never seen the first, but I remember the second one being molto scary when I saw it in my 20's.

Lordy, how lame they seem now?

Is it the cheesy special effects? The late 70's styles, which seem so off now?

Or is it the really terrible acting and dialog?

For me, what's at the heart of the problem is that nothing is going on except haunting. You take a perfectly nice happy family with no problems -- something that doesn't exist -- and throw it into a perfectly nice happy place, and then we're all waiting for something to happen.

Here's my recipe for a haunted house movie: they're already having problems. They're arguing and not talking to each other enough. So you're interested in them, and something interesting is going on during the spaces between the supernatural incidents. And of course, they don't give up their point of view -- they don't stop arguing about whatever it was. Because people don't. Soldiers will keep arguing about who stole whose dessert while they're waiting for the next barrage -- even if only to keep their minds off being under fire.

I had this exact same point of view while writing Phasma Ex Machina. The supernatural aspect only serves as a Trojan Horse to the emotional heart of the narrative. I'm not interested in painting a false reality. I'm aiming for truth, albeit one with theoretical physics, murder, and people that won't stay dead.

Read the rest of his post here.