On Building Shiny Castles
31 Aug
I watched an ass ton of movies this week, and that’s an exact measurement. A sampling:
1. Immortal Beloved. I believe Beethoven actually did leave behind a mysterious letter addressed to “My Immortal Beloved”. As far as I know, however, it did not lead to a melodramatic love story that, if it didn’t excuse it, at least made sense of his lifetime of douchebaggery. Therefore, this movie is terrible history. That said, it was a really pretty movie, Gary Oldman is a badass, and dude, it’s Beethoven. I don’t care if it’s uncool, I love the evil bastard.
2. The Great Gatsby. Mia Farrow makes me happy. Can’t help it. Robert Redford too. No way this could stack up to the book, but that’s the magic of Fitzgerald and his twit of a narrator Nick “I’m a complete ass-hat but don’t know it” Carraway, isn’t it? But man, it was pretty. Just like I pictured it in my head.
3. Pan’s Labyrinth. Obviously I loved that one, and I don’t have to tell you why.
So okay, three films that in scope, script, and purpose don’t have a lot in common. But the thing that left the most lasting impression on me about all of them was the same: production design. Yeah, the script and the acting are just as responsible for leaving a lasting overall emotional impression, but I’m clearly a person who likes shiny things, what with the art history degree and all. I remember art direction, even in these– two of which are hardly among the most visually stunning films I’ve ever seen (one of which very likely is, but again, obvious).
But writers have to do it for me too. Figuring out the aesthetic of a shiny new fantasy world is production design on the page, and when someone does that right, I’ll forgive their book almost everything else. The list of authors I consider successful at it is way too long and predictable, but you know what I mean.
And so my revelation for the week is that I need to spend more time writing descriptions*, sketching**, and collecting source photos*** for anything I attempt to write that requires worldbuilding. And I probably need to branch out and find new ways of doing this, since I’m obviously clueless.
So help me out, if you can. What do you do to make the picture in your mind complete, when you’re writing in some world other than the one you (officially) inhabit? What details from the movies and books that created a lasting visual impression on you were important?
*Which will of course never make it into the story itself, but are always a huge help to me.
**At which I used to be decent, but those brain cells have apparently atrophied. Doesn’t stop me when I get an urge, though.
***Of the general “The aesthetic is similar to this building, this pottery, this blah blah blah…” variety.
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Now playing: Franz Liszt – Ballade No.1 in D flat, S 170 “Le chante du croisé”
via FoxyTunes
I once did an entire plan of a motel (for The Midnight Motel) inluding what furniture and wallpaper decorated each room. I knew every inch of the place. Of course that was easy to do as it was such a small world.
My movie watching this weekend was a little less brainy – Meet the Fockers.
Nice movie choices. We use the non-metric “ass ton” to weigh or buildings prior to shipping around North America. That designation used depending on who worked on the building (I am very familiar with the “ass ton”).
Cate– a decoration plan! That’s a completely brilliant idea. I’m definitely going to try and do those for buildings that are important, from now on. I love it!
Also, I thought Meet the Fockers was awesome. Last weekend I watched Pineapple Express and laughed my ass off, so you know, I’m definitely not one for the brainy movies
Alan, I’m so excited to meet someone who understands the uses of the ass-ton– even to recognize the difference between the metric and English. You’ve made my day!
The City of Lost Children. Awesome aesthetics, struggled with the plot. Dark City was amazing, too, if I’m in an urban mood. Sometimes I sketch with pictures, sometimes I sketch in words. Sometimes I just close my eyes and imagine.
I SUCK at other worlds. I’ve written two stories in the future: one was set in a room, the other inside a building.
I haven’t seen the City of Lost Children, Aaron, but a google search shows me it’s Jean-Pierre Jeunet. Good sign. I’ll have to check those out!
Those methods are my tried and true ones as well– and it gives me more faith in them to see your faith in them… if that makes sense. Thanks dude.
Nat, yeah, I pretty much suck too. I can keep things under control if it’s a building, or even a small town… sort of. But even then I feel like I need to do so, so much more to make it worthwhile. Nice to know I’m not alone, even though I obviously do not wish suckage on anyone!
Structures kill me – houses, municipal buildings, you name it. If I don’t have a firm picture in my head of what something looks like, I’m doomed. Or, internally doomed anyway. Not sure if it seems as flat on the page as it does in my head.
This is why I pay a hell of a lot of attention to people’s houses, random buildings, and all that when I’m inside them. I never know when I’ll have to steal the layout. (Danny’s house, for example, is very VERY close to my uncle’s… except that his basement is unfinished and contains no hot tub of awesomeness.)
I absolutely love The Great Gatsby. I love reading the book then watching the movie right after.
Megh, I had no idea Daniel’s house was based on someone’s– oh the fun facts I never knew! That’s totally awesome. I do the same thing, though, using various floor plans because they suit a particular bunch/character.
Too bad about the hot tub though. Because, er, ah… you know. Good times
Danielle, that’s a great idea. It shall be my new ritual. Officially.