I loved that movie growing up. My favorite part was when Ernest inexplicably became Raiden for like five minutes to effect his escape. I'm unsure if that makes younger me more innocent or just retarded.

I love A:TLA almost despite myself, because I have my own martial arts fantasy story involving the manipulation of the elements (though I have 10 instead of 4), and including a hero who is the "last of his kind," which I came up with before AIRBENDER, but which will inevitably be compared to and probably considered a ripoff now that AIRBENDER beat me to it. Then again, most Western fantasies are variations on LOTR, so hopefully the differences will speak louder than the similarities.

I agree that the martial arts in A:TLA are well-conceived and animated. The styles are recognizable and it's clear what's going on. I especially enjoy what they do with Toph, and in the credits she specifically had her own advisor to the animators. That's a show done right -- though the finale is a bit rushed and has one hell of a deus ex machina that they might have at least hinted at before the very end...

If I trust M. Night to get anything right, it's the visuals. The guy has apparently never spoken to or observed other human beings, based on how he writes and directs his characters, but he sure as hell knows how to frame a shot. Most people don't know how to shoot action, but as far as it goes, the initial teaser is promising, interviews make it sound like he has the sense to just get out of the way and SHOW it, and ILM's work in the trailers looks incredible.

But I don't trust him to get the emotion, story, characters, or tone at all right, and I expect the dialogue to be abominable. I'm trying to go in knowing that, overall, I will be disappoint.

But it's tempered by my feeling that there kind of isn't a way to get this flick right no matter who did it. It's a story I don't think you can condense meaningfully into two hours. So at least we get one that'll look damn cool.

I'm pulling for it to succeed, even with my distaste for MNS, because KUNG FU RED needs all the martial arts hits it can get this summer. It's riding on SCOTT PILGRIM, too.

Saw Surrogates last night.

Mostow is apparently really good at making a 90 minute movie that simultaneously feels too long and yet never feels like it's actually started.

EDIT: I also just got around to PRINCE OF DARKNESS. That's a silly movie. It's a lot of cool ideas, but he just kind of throws them in a pile and goes "ta-daaa!" Disappointing, because I think the other two, bracketing flicks in Carpenter's informal "Apocalypse Trilogy" -- THE THING and IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS -- are favorites of mine.

I thought it was pretty funny that none of us had ever seen it and just decided to mock it roundly without ever giving specifics or indeed much of a reason.

But if it's on Netflix streaming, shit. No excuse not to, at this point. And longtime listeners will no doubt be delighted when it shows up in their RSS feed.

1. Monsters, Inc.

2. Toy Story 3

3. The Incredibles

4. Wall-E

5. Finding Nemo

6. Toy Story

7. Toy Story
 2
8. Cars

9. Bug's Life

10. Ratatouille
11. Up

As mentioned on the Twitter link to this ep, we primarily did T3 because we had to in order to do T4.

When we do T4, there is no end to the "HOW DOES SKYNET KNOW THIS AND WHY IS IT DOING THIS STUPID THING IF IT KNOWS BETTER" discussion.

The idea of innate talent has been added to my list of "Things I Stopped Believing In As I Got Older," aided in part by reading books like "Talent is Overrated" and "Outliers." I don't think people are born with particular talents. I do, however, think that there are certain traits which, in combination, can create the illusion of "talent." I'm guilty still of using the word "talent" because it's useful shorthand, but I don't mean some kind of congenital ability to frame a shot. That's silly.

The idea of innate talent in creative endeavors implies that some people will simply create things that don't suck without much effort at all. I don't think this is true at all. What I think separates the "talented" artists from the rest is the fact that when they have done something that sucks, they recognize that they've done something that sucks. And the really "talented" ones are the ones who have the metacognitive capacity to recognize why it sucks, and can focus their efforts next time on not doing the thing that made the work suck.

Admittedly this does require, I think, an above-average degree of intelligence, which can't be taught. More importantly, it requires a high degree of honest self-assessment, which is something that can be taught somewhat but depends significantly on the person's temperament.

But the specific skills of filmmaking -- how to frame a shot, how to structure a story, etc. -- are things that not only can but must be taught, as no one is born with this highly-specified, artificial skill.

Once you've learned the skills, I don't think you forget them. When we say people have "lost their touch," I think what's really happened is their capacity for honest self-assessment has been hindered.

It's not necessarily that they have forgotten how to frame a shot or tell a story, it's that they no longer have the capacity (or, perhaps, never did) to see the disconnect between what they're trying to achieve and what they've actually managed to achieve.

I guess I'm splitting hairs, but the pithy version of this is that I don't believe some people are born more talented, but I do believe they're born more competent.

So the real question, regarding the specific example, is: does Peter Weir still know good from bad, and does he still possess enough self-honesty to tell the difference? If so, then I don't think he's forgotten any of the specific skills that filmmaking entails.

I thought you had changed your opinion on it?

Well, this is technically about a movie, just not one we've done.

I'll bring it over next time you guys want to have a non-DIF shindig and blow your minds.

I don't know how to answer that question other than to repeat the point: tie the two plots together. We don't get into details because the details are almost irrelevant; it's the story's most basic structure that fails.

What it would entail is a significant restructuring of both plots, such that one would not occur the way it does if not for the interference of the other. The things she does in the fantasy world alter the course of events in the real world and vice versa.

One example -- off the top of my head and not necessarily a good idea, just an idea -- instead of the rebels being total morons at every turn, have the little girl break into the storeroom using her magic-chalk. For whatever reason, make it part of a task. So then after the rebels arrive, the Big Bad discovers provisions missing, but the lock wasn't forced. He begins to suspect that the maid is in league with the rebels -- he's right, but if not for the little girl and her fantasy tasks, he would never have had a reason to suspect.

Conversely, maybe a fight with the rebels fucks up a task that she has to complete. Like she's got to pick some golden flower off a specific tree, because down in the labyrinth there's a beast that the flower can put to sleep. But the flower gets shot and she can't use it, so the beast is awake when she sneaks in, and it winds up getting out, and it fucks up some shit in the real world, etc.

Again, I pulled that straight out of my ass and I'm not saying it's the best way to do it, but the point is ANYTHING tying them together would be better than NOTHING. Name something that's more than the nothing in the film. It's better.

The two stories should enter a feedback loop, where A in the fantasy world alters B in the real world. B leads to a C in the real world that would not have happened if A had not intervened, and because C happens, D in the fantasy world doesn't go according to plan, which leads to E which Fs it up. Et cetera. There should be a constant escalation of chaos, with neither "world" behaving the way it's "supposed" to, which comes to a head in a decisive moment where both stories are resolved by a single action.

That's as specific as you can really get considering that the movie's flaw is fundamental. Fix that, and as long as one action leads believably to another (e.g. people don't disregard their own character and let the bad guy live just because the movie would be over otherwise), the movie is probably most of the way to being fixed.

To bring back a metaphor from MATRIX REVOLUTIONS, if a house has a screwed-up foundation, we're not going to get anywhere by discussing the curtains.

I like that idea quite a lot. However, it's purely your eisegesis of the film, as there is almost nothing in the film to indicate this and interpreting things this way doesn't mend the central problem that the film is two hours long and tells two unrelated stories with nothing worthwhile to say.

Had your reading of the film actually been the film, I think it could have been fucking awesome. A fascist monster coming out to the countryside and running afoul of actual monsters in league with his abused stepdaughter? Well, I just gave myself chills.

But alas.

Well, there you go. It was too long by a factor of 30, and I was only off by a factor of five.

So, really, I was estimating conservatively.

Yes. Yes, that's what we'll say.

TROPIC THUNDER spoilers....

I liked most of TROPIC THUNDER. It crossed a line for me, tonally, when Ben Stiller spent five minutes playing with a severed head. The director's sudden and violent death toed the line to begin with, but when that scene just kept going it went all the way over to disturbing and became impossible for me to find funny. In fact the longer it went on and the more time we spent dwelling on the fact that this guy was really and abruptly dead, I actually found it more and more upsetting.

But cut that scene out, or maybe shorten it to just the first gag, and I think I could say I love the flick.