Comic Con 2008

And so here we were – at the fabled San Diego Comic Con.

I’ve seen some big shows (NAB in Las Vegas probably topping the list) but this is just something else.

The beauty of the whole thing is that it’s for the fans – from the gigantic pimped out booths to the sprawling hordes of costumed aficionados. The 4 days were one big celebration of all things sci-fi, fantasy, comics, anime, popular entertainment culture and above all, the untouchable joy of pure, absolute fandom.

What amazed me most were the speaker panels. There must have been at least a hundred, probably more. I could only attend a few, and none of the ‘big’ ones such as the Watchmen and The Spirit panels cause the crowds were just impossible. But even those I attended fed the soul like chicken soup for a cold.

That’s what special about the Con – you hear from the folks actually creating the work – artists, writers, production designers, animators. Some are young and genuinely brilliant; others older but speak with such reverence (often about the fundamentals of the craft) it’s hard not to be captivated.

Just listening to Stan Lee talk about the creation of Iron Man and his process that led to the character’s development was a fascinating and unforgettable experience.

From left: Mark Fergus (Iron Man co-writer), Zak Penn (Incredible Hulk writer), Stan Lee, Jeff Goldsmith (Creative Screenwriting Magazine)

It’s certainly an energizing change from the usual business conferences where network executives talk about stuff that more often than not feel rehashed.

Comic Con was everything I’ve been told it is and more. It’s an awe-inspiring experience that affirms the wonders of imagination and celebrates the child inside every person that never grows up. It’s an event every creator in the field of popular entertainment (or otherwise) should attend at least once, with costume or not.

Sign me up for 2009. I might just bring along my lightsaber the next time.

 

LA/Comic Con/Tokyo Part 1

It was a draining 16-hour flight, but not much worse than any other long haul flights I’ve been on. At least it was direct. I could have done without the eagerness of the Indian bloke beside me raring to get a conversation going though.

Flight: Singapore to LA (direct)

First thing Indian bloke said: “So, you going to LA?”

……

Most of what I feel about the US in terms of personal experience is based on New York City since it’s the place I’m at the most when I’m in America.

Now NYC can get a little rough. It’s a city throbbing with energy and urban culture and there’s much to like about it, but it’s a tough-talking town and there’s a relentlessness to the city’s pace.

LA, on first impressions (it’s 18 years since I was there), seems far more laid back. People seem to take their time going about their business. It feels like a Sunday afternoon on the streets of Sunset Boulevard even though it’s pushing rush hour on a weekday. And the supermarket cashier actually thanked me with a smile after I paid for my groceries.

Strangely enough, the place reminds me of Perth – really spread out, low rise buildings, a fair amount of greenery and quiet at night.

Most of West Hollywood actually feels like a pretty nice neighborhood. I didn’t feel compelled to have a roam of Rodeo Drive mostly because it was baking hot. But we did drive by and I caught a queer-looking Asian man in a glitzy green tuxedo suit arguing with a shop owner.

I was told there’s a shop there with no price tags on their goods. Apparently if you had to ask for the price, you shouldn’t be in there the first place. That’s just deranged.

After weeks of practicing right-hand-side driving on Grand Theft Auto IV, I’m glad we ended up not needing to rent a car. My good man and agent Troy was kind enough to chauffeur us around town for our main appointments at the studios.

Walt Disney Studios, Burbank

Jim Henson Company (coolest offices I’ve seen. Just edges past Studio Ghibli)

The meetings went well enough. I’m getting used to this speed pitching thing, though it does get tiring and by the end of the day part of me actually didn’t give a damn about the show anymore. I just wanted to lie down and watch Comedy Central (it’s a sin that it isn’t available here in Singapore).

The combination of traumatic jet lag and full day schedules means there was little time for partying. But I definitely aim to check out the scene at the Sunset strip the next time I’m over.

Next Up: San Diego Comic F*****k Con!

 

One Night in KL

It’s always a little embarrassing that I’ve traveled a bit but haven’t seen much of neighbouring Malaysia. Last month I went up to KL for only the 2nd time I could remember, with CK and CM for a meeting.

For someone used to the glitzy décor of Terminal 2 and 3, T1 was slightly sobering. I haven’t stepped in the grand daddy of Changi in over 10 years. It’s sprawling with foreign workers, Asian tour groups and all types of colourfully-dressed business travelers jetting around the region on budget flights.

Not that it’s run down at all (impossible after a $500m upgrade), just a different crowd. Mind you, it’s still a hell lot better than the European and American airports I frequent. Wish I had grabbed some shots, but taking pictures at the home airport somehow didn’t come naturally.

Up next was my first flight on a budget airline (I was really feeling like a first-time flyer by now). The Thai stewardess was nice enough but she stamped her authority when I stopped halfway along the aisle to stash my bag into the storage above me.

“PLEASE DON’T HOLD UP THE LINE!” she shouted from the front of the plane.

Memories rushed back to primary school and first day on the school bus. I quickly sat down like a scared puppy.

The 45-minute flight into KL was, needless to say, a breeze compared to the usual 13 and 20 hour flights I’m more accustomed to. I’ve barely chosen my songs on the iPod before the pilot announced he was descending. The only thing that felt weird was flying an airline sponsored by Manchester United (their logos were everywhere). I’m a Liverpool supporter so it’s like sleeping with the enemy. I wanted to humiliate myself.

The KL LCCT (Low Cost Carrier Terminal) is visibly less impressive, but efficient. Suddenly T1 felt like the Taj Mahal. I walked off the plane, crossed the runway and headed towards the gate. Theoretically, I could be run over by a plane.

Once out of the terminal touters flocked to us like moths to a lamp. We tried damn hard to be cool, like we’ve done this hundreds of time. (I’m pretty sure we failed miserably). Next thing we knew we were being led to a dark, shady corner where a beat-up Proton Wira was waiting – engine running, ready to hit the dirt.

A lady was behind the wheel, sucking the life out of a dying cigarette. I reached for the front passenger door, but was halted by the man who led us there. He pointed to the rear seats, just as the woman got out and moved into the front. The man is driving, and I wasn’t about to fight the woman for a front seat view.

So three Asian boys sat thigh-to-thigh at the back of the car as we rolled into town, hoping to spot the unmistakable shape of the Petrona Towers soon just so we know we aren’t being shipped elsewhere.

Of course we got there safely, checked in to Novotel and went looking for food at Jalan Alor. Had some awesome chicken wings and dark, disgusting-looking noodles that look sinfully unhealthy but taste fantastic.

On the way back we bought a large bottle of beer for the night cap. Couldn’t find an opener in the hotel room, so three of us took turns at attempting to pry open the stubborn cap, which went on for 15 minutes. The beer was warm by now. Out of ideas, we finally called the concierge who sent someone up with an opener. The guy walked into the room and froze – in front of him were three Chinese men in their boxers and t-shirts, foreheads glistening with sweat (from struggling with the bottle), and one holding helplessly onto a bottle of Tiger beer, with American Idol blasting on the telly.

It was a classic ‘Moment of Wrong’.

Anyway we finally opened the damn bottle, drank warm beer and watched David Cook and David Archuleta fight it out.

The meeting the next day went well enough. It’s funny though – no matter how far you are away from home, be it an hour away by air or half way round the world, it takes one night in a foreign bed, regardless of how comfortable it is, to make you miss your own sack.

 

Cannes # 7

Cannes has become a rather strange destination for me. Over my 7 visits in 3 years, I’ve developed a somewhat muted contempt for the place and even more so the 16 hours needed to get there. Yet it is undeniably a pretty little town in the South of France with great food and most of the time, great weather.

Not this time though. The weather was grim, cold and wet for pretty much the whole MIPTV market. Add to that a packed 3 days of high intensity meetings and it was less fun than usual – which was not unexpected, given that it’s my first time there as a producer.

Gone are the airport limousine transfers, swanky studio apartments, leisurely breakfasts, parties and meetings of an ‘introductory’ or ‘touch base’ nature customary with my previous employment. Now it’s bus rides to and fro the airport, apartments that feel like high class cells, cereal and milk breakfasts, tense operational and sales meetings, high-stress pitches and obligatory networking sessions where downing more than a couple of glasses of wine really wouldn’t do a lightweight like me any good if work is to be done.

That said, there is definitely a palpable sense of purpose to each day and meeting, a rush when the distributor tells you another sale has closed, an excitement when a pitch goes well and a keener anticipation as business opportunities present themselves.

It’s not all good news of course. There are pitches that went flat, thorny issues brought up by partners that need to be resolved, and perhaps a genuine appreciation of how competitive and tough this business is.

For the first time in 3 years after coming back from Cannes, I’m getting the feeling that a whole lot of work needs to begin on Monday morning.

The landlord’s primary weapon against intruders.

 

Tokyo ‘08 Retrospect: Harajuku

I’m blogging from Changi Airport’s spanking new Terminal 3. That’s a first. It’s been a airport-friendly few months for me, which I don’t mind although I’m not mad about flying – mainly because I’m not a sleeper.

It’s April and I’ve done New York, Toronto, Tokyo, off to Cannes in an hour and looks like it’s Seoul next month. I need my Krisflyer Gold, dammit.

Here’s a new addition to my Album of Wrong from the recent Tokyo trip. Makes you kinda glad it’s only a holiday.

I’ve got the tissue, but he’s got the issue.

 

Tokyo ‘08 Retrospect: The Pressure of Greatness

Ghibli Museum, Mitaka, Tokyo

24 March 2008

I left Ghibli Musuem in a somewhat sombre mood. I had little to say to my friend whom I went with, and was quiet for most of the long walk back to Mitaka station. It confused me why I was feeling that way – almost depressed. I struggled to find an answer.

My thoughts searched back to the afternoon’s visit. For 2 hours or so I walked the halls and corridors of the museum, passing by Ghibli’s famed creations, concept art, original storyboards and handwriting from Miyazaki himself, seeing the research, dexterity, talent, love and heart that went into making these timeless animated films.

I saw the uninhibited joy of children surrounded by their favourite Ghibli characters, without a worry in the world except how to get themselves on the catbus and go flying with Totoro.

I could see the wonder in the eyes of adults seemingly lost in a world that calls out to their memories, beckoning them to let their childhood return for a few moments, for they have never quite gone away – only forgotten.

As I board the train back to the city, my thoughts return to the present and it struck me: I wanted to visit Ghibli Museum because I love the films and thought I’ll have a good time and be inspired. Truth is, inspiration was never the problem. The effect on me was much more profound. I felt the presence and more significantly, the pressure of true greatness. And It was terrifying.

But as I passed stations after stations, the fear subsided, replaced by a clarity and sense of pride – almost beaming pride – that I’m in the same profession as the magicians and storytellers at Studio Ghibli. The important thing is not that I even contemplate achieving what they have done, but that I felt their spirit and understood their purpose.

It fortified my resolve to produce the animated feature film that I was so voraciously writing and visualizing in my head not so long ago. Recently however, that project has at best ghosted in and out of my thoughts and dreams. Such is the toll of a new job and its worries.

Making an animated film would be nothing short of a herculean task on so many levels. In my heart though, I know that if my film touches just one person in the theatre the way Ghibli’s works touch a generation, it would have been worth every drop of sweat and tear to make it happen.

 

NYC / Toronto

Every February for the last 3 years, I find myself braving the harshest of weather conditions in New York City, all for the sake of creating quality TV entertainment for children.

You can almost always count on something going wrong in NYC in February as it bears the full brunt of winter. 2 years ago I was caught in the worst blizzard on record that closed all 3 airports, including the one where my departing plane spent almost 3 hours being de-iced before the flight was eventually called off. No fun, I assure you.

‘07 Blizzard. View from Airport hotel room.

Last year, my hotel had an electrical fire at 4am the night I checked in. Still stoned from the 19-hour flight, I  thought I was dreaming as hotel security came on the PA system, somehow managing to sound both relaxed and rattled at the same time. It wasn’t until I saw the fire engines downstairs and the smell of smoke from the corridor did it strike me. Foolishly, I went back to sleep and lived to tell the tale.

Pic courtesy of my ex-colleague who evacuated to the Sheraton Lobby as soon as the fire notice came on the PA, clearly intending to NOT DIE.

This year, fears of another blizzard seized again as it snowed on the first day I got in the Big Apple. This was followed by ice-cold rain the whole of next day (day 1 of the conference). Misery would have felt snugly at home.

A familiar sight this year.

For some reason bad weather seems to follow me around like a lovesick puppy in NYC. On Saturday as I left for Toronto the skies were as clear and blue as ever. Perhaps that’s why I’ve never felt quite welcomed there. Maybe I’ll give its summer a chance one of these days.

Toronto wasn’t any more fun, weather wise. In fact it’s colder than New York, with temperatures dropping to -10 degrees on a couple of days. It sounds bizarre, but it actually got warmer when it snows. I’m sure there’s a perfectly scientific reason for that though…

View from Toronto hotel room. BBQ was unexpectedly cancelled.

Apart from the cold and the fact that it feels like a planet away geographically, I like Canada. Things seem a little more laid back, people are more polite, and the place generally feels more livable (compared to the US) for me. Well, Toronto at least, even if Vancouver and Montreal often get a stronger rep.

And it was great to finally be able to just hang out with the Decode folks who are irrepressibly fun and terrific hosts. Just another reminder of why I love the business, sticky contracts and heart-attacking deadlines aside.

Rolling deep with the Decode posse. Bling not provided.

Beth’s lovely kittens, Max and Cowboy.

Finally, in the grand tradition of Things-Going-Wrong-During February-Travels, my luggage didn’t make it back to Singapore from Toronto. So here I am, wondering when the Airport will call with the good news and if an insurance payout wouldn’t be that bad a thing.

 

SQ 26

There are little lotteries you always wish you’d hit when flying. Here’s my personal rundown in order of jackpot size:

1. An impossibly beautiful woman takes the next seat (this is harder than getting hit by a meteorite. Mostly I get people with chronic coughs or who can’t stop farting).
2. Business Class upgrade (I actually got this once on route to Sydney. Was in Bermudas so my good fortune was glaringly obvious to the other ‘real’ Biz Class folks).
3. Attractive and friendly stewardesses. Again, hard to come by these days it seems. By friendly I mean conversational. You stand a better chance with the leading stewardesses.
4. 4 empty seats in a row (see pic).
5. Emergency exit seats. Aside from the legroom, during take-off and landing you can chat up the stewardess strapped in on the jumpseat who is temporarily incapable of any evasive action.

Top 5 morale-killers on a flight:

1. See point 2 above for the kind of neighbours I usually get.
2. The seat in front of you drops down and almost hits your face a nanosecond after the seatbelt sign goes off after take-off.
3. Lavatory seats that look like they’ve just experienced a mudslide.
4. Snorers who render noise-canceling headphones useless.
5. Babies. You know it’s true.

 

MIPCOM 2007

 

Another Cannes market, another feeling of having ate too much gluten and cheese for the last 5 days. And not enough alcohol.

This year the drinking sessions were cut back from the decadence of 2006 when I was drunk almost every night and actually woke up still in my suit one morning. This time, some of the guys actually had to pass on the drinks due to late meetings and working dinners. Oh well, we all have to start acting like adults sometime I guess

One night we did have drinks at the Grand Hotel (which is kind of an unofficial nightly drinks venue for delegates. See 3rd pic) with some industry friends, and a few of us ended up sharing photos of our cats like they were our children. I’m not sure if that’s very French, but it’s definitely not very straight (note to self). Oh, and not for the first time a lady was convinced that my cat is in fact a dog.

 

Another reason for less partying this year was probably the depleted stamina at the end of each day. This market was tiring if anything, as I had to do all the talking at meetings since my usual sidekick is not around.

The meetings in the room were fine, but it was a Herculean task to focus on meetings outside in the open, what with the opposite Wicked Pictures booth blasting out their hardcore pornography on a 36 inch (insert lewd pun) LCD. I’m talking XXX, girl-on-boy-on-girl stuff. In other words – quality television.

Conversation I had with Carmen Hart the lovely adult actress (she’s the Girl in 6C), who it appears don’t just make adult movies, but also doubles up as receptionist at the Wicked booth:

Carmen: So what happens if you get caught with porn DVDs in Singapore?

Ervin: I think it depends on where they catch you.

Carmen: (raises eyebrows in curiosity)

Ervin: Erm…if you get caught at customs, they’ll just confiscate it. If you get   caught elsewhere, or downloading it, they’ll still confiscate it and maybe make an example out of you.

Carmen: Make an example? How??

Ervin: They might go public with you, in the press and news…

Carmen: That’s terrible!

Ervin: Yes it is (I wanted to tear out my MDA badge, chew it and spit it out, because Carmen thinks it’s terrible. I would have offered a hug but she was clearly not distressed, merely surprised)

Carmen: (smiling again) Well, you better have your fill while you’re here!

I had to leave before the whole situation – talking to a porn star who is on TV in the background having a threesome with two girls on the bonnet of a police car – gives my nose a hemorrhage.

Sadly, Carmen did not return on the last day and I was devastatingly deprived of a photo op before I leave. So here’s a googled picture of the wholesome goodness that is Carmen Hart, immortalised on this blog:

All in all, this was a good market. While the parties never got too wild, I met some interesting people and companies that perhaps wouldn’t have been possible if I hadn’t gone solo this time. Ultimately, that’s the pleasure of MIPTV and MIPCOM. Sure, it’s a torturous 16 hour flight, accommodation is never swanky, days are long and you invariably meet the odd weirdo who thinks he’s got the next big animation hit and has vaguely heard of a character called SpongeBob. But you also get to see some great content, catch up with friends and meet new, interesting people. The great weather and food don’t hurt, and neither does Carmen.

Actually I’m not sure about that last bit, based on what I’ve seen in the Wicked Pictures screener…

 

Cannes Fight This (Jetlag) Feeling

The cat was ready to stick it out 16 hours in the luggage to see France for the first time but Ervin would have none of it.

I don’t think the human mind (not mine at least) is wired to think ahead and decide what the body is going to wear for the next 7 days in advance. On top of that, colours have to match, configurations have to be ready for every possible occasion that might present itself and of course one hopes to avoid attention from the fashion police as best as possible, especially since the destination is a resort town in the south of France.

That said, my luggage for the twice-a-year trip to Cannes has lightened considerably over the last few years. I’m also able to keep packing down to within an hour, leaving time to update my iPod’s playlists for the testing 16 hour trip.

So here I am, at Cannes again for MIPCOM and struggling with jetlag. It’s Sunday and the weather looks gorgeous, though probably a tad chilly for the beach nudists more often seen during Spring’s MIPTV. Still, what’s life without hope?

More updates over the next few days.

Village Croisette – apartment includes the usual horde of drunks and crackpots partying away till the wee hours at the bars below.