My feature film script set in England, The Stagemaster, has just made it to the quarterfinals of the Final Draft Big Break 2024 competition, bringing the total number of accolades to five.
Next step: finding producers to bring it to life. Stay tuned.
My first attempt at a "Mid-Century" illustration. I recently discovered the name of this graphic style, and now it's all I do:
I've decided to draw everything this way for the rest of my life.
The method we’re taught in school is bogus.
While you're busy researching and working on the fundamentals to avoid mistakes or rash actions (and not getting a bad grade because "you didn't work hard enough"), the sly ones have already taken action to grab everything up for grabs.
These folks understand that the jury doesn’t deliberate after the closing argument: decisions are already made in the hallways, in the antechambers, between two doors, driven by those who didn't stay home to calmly ponder the problem.
Besides, what's the point of thinking? When the world boils down to "me against the others," there’s no subtlety left to consider. You can just act.
Thomas Piketty explains this well in a paragraph from Capital in the Twenty-First Century:
Sure, there is a simple economic principle to balance the process: the law of supply and demand. If a good is in short supply and its price is too high, then demand for that good must decrease, which will help stabilize the market. In other words, if real estate and oil prices rise, just move to the countryside or ride a bike (or both). But aside from the fact that this can be unpleasant or complicated, such an adjustment can take several decades, during which the owners of the buildings and oil can accumulate so many claims against the rest of the population that they will end up permanently owning everything worth owning, including the countryside and the bikes.
I think the consequences of this idea are clearly seen in the testimony of Jean-Baptiste Rivoire, former deputy director of *Special Investigation*, who recounts how Vincent Bolloré worked to strip Canal+ of real journalism (French only):
It’s a note I remember writing in my notebook a long time ago: "It’s not the deserving who rise to the top." Or, as Keynes said:
"Capitalism is the extraordinary belief that the nastiest of men for the nastiest of motives will somehow work together for the benefit of all."
– John Maynard Keynes
UPDATE: Another example from the New York Times. The lead Google has amassed by abusing its monopoly can’t be caught up by its competitors, despite the recent ruling against it.
Episode 5 of Panic in Space has been selected for the Open Festival de Marseilles and will be screened on October 5th and 6th at the Pathé Joliette and Pathé Madeleine cinemas:
And Episode 6 has been selected for the Made in Trouville section of the Festival Off Courts and will be shown during the Opening Ceremony Wednesday, Sept 7th:
While at the festival, I’ll take the opportunity to shoot a music video for the band Retrópico. Stay tuned.
A.I. didn’t invent anything new!
If you have 7 minutes, I recommend watching this Armenian animated short film from 1983. Starting at 1:30, you’ll see that the psychedelic transformations of the demon Ekh closely resemble the current nightmare-inducing deep dreams of A.I.:
Moral of the story: always be kind to talking animals.
What a pleasure it was to attend the premiere of the documentary Les Sirènes de Dieppe at the Max Linder yesterday morning! An hour in the company of the drag performers from La Sirène à Barbe (The Beardy Mermaid Cabaret): the backstage, the camaraderie, the financial struggles, the fight against intolerance, and a bit of musical comedy. A truly well-made film.
My composer friend Raphaël Bancou—whom I reconnected with after 10 years at this event—composed the music. More on him soon.
If you’re interested, the film by the two Nicolas (Birkenstock and Engel) will be available on replay starting September 19th on France TV. Don’t miss it. And if you’re in Dieppe, go see them live!
I’m belatedly exploring the works of Giorgio Moroder, aka Giorgio, who seems to have influenced every electronic artist on the planet. Recently, I’ve been listening to this 1972 track on repeat:
The simplicity, the repetition, the crescendo. That’s all it takes.
I registered after the deadline, so I couldn't schedule my meetings as well as I would have liked. Despite that, I caught up with friends, met some very nice people, attended some truly enlightening conferences, and had a few drinks—it's been a while.
This festival is very well organized for networking—with pre-arranged meetings and an app for connecting. And Valence—I forget this every time—but it's quite nice.
If you had asked me the day before yesterday, I would have told you I'm not really into concerts.
The music is too loud. There's too much commotion. It's too long.
But that was before my buddy Jackie Berroyer (who, let’s not forget, was a music columnist for Hara-Kiri) invited me to see Fat White Family last night at La Cigale. Never heard of them. I wasn’t expecting much. "You'll see, they're pretty good, you might like them," he said.
OK, now I get why people love concerts.
Incredible experience. Yes, the music was wild, hard-hitting rock with a sense of progression and some unexpected instruments (flute, baritone sax). Then there's the lead singer, Lias Saoudi. He's in shorts. By the second song, he's down in the pit singing in the middle of the crowd—setting the tone. For the rest of the concert, he sings (sometimes screams, but always in tune) balanced on amps, in a fetal position on the edge of the stage, or crowd-surfing.
From above, the pit pulses. It’s a collective experience. But you can tell it’s all masterfully controlled by a seasoned band: you catch the subtle, precise gestures the band members direct to the technicians; behind the wild personas are professionals who have crafted a structured and generous show. And the space of La Cigale, where you can move around freely, offers the freedom and intimacy to truly enjoy the experience.
I can see how people who’ve experienced this once can become concert junkies, chasing that initial high. And why some old-timers endlessly reminisce about a show they saw in their youth: "Oh, you know, when I saw that band back in '76..."
"A concert like that, you remember it for the rest of your life," Jackie told me as we walked out. Yup, probably.
