Sorry I haven’t updated lately.  I haven’t had much to say lately, especially with regards to theatre.  I’m feeling a bit disconnected.

I’m trying to jump back on track in a slightly different route:  storytelling.

I mentioned this before in another blog, but sometimes I feel like I’m not very creative.  Well, as far as originality is concerned.  I know that many people consider all the great stories to have already been told, and everything we write today is basically just a variation or more complex (or simpler) version of what has already been told, but still…

After I watched Dr. Horrible (you can get it on iTunes), I was inspired to write my own musical story.  I’ve always wanted to, but I’m musically retarded.  On top of that, my work skews towards the epic and dramatic rather than the short and funny.  I’m hoping to change that.

So I got this idea for a story for a short film a la Dr. Horrible.  I’m not going to give it away here just yet — I’d rather get it written and at least in the preliminary stages of production and then blog the process.

I’ve been developing my concepts and storylines, coming up with variations and such to give me some options and directions as to where to go.  I asked open ended questions of friends (e.g. Who is Everyman’s nemesis?, etc), brainstormed backstories and character profiles, and hummed tunes to myself.

I finally settled on a character and situation.  At a certain point in the story, there comes a point where I could take two different paths to two completely different stories.  Actually, it just occurred to me that I could use both — one could be the sequel of the other.

At any rate, I told one of the plot lines to someone else, and they said “That sounds like [insert favorite movie here] except with a different ending.”

Does that matter?
Should it matter?
Am I any less creative because my idea had already been thought of?

Sometimes I wonder.

I remember the first time I felt regret at growing older. You spend the first decade of life wanting to grow up, grow up, grow up, yet at some point that desire turns upon itself and you would trade anything to be younger. I remember the first time I felt that way. It was 7th grade and just starting Jr. High. I looked at my schedule: English, Math, Social Studies, Science, P.E., lunch, study hall, and an elective. One glaring omission: Recess.

Shit. I miss elementary school already.

Ever since then, I’ve looked back on my early years with happiness, remembering the times when my friends and I would ride our bike to the comic store, play Snake-in-the-Gutter, have snowball fights, play video games, go swimming, build forts and wait on the front porch for the Ice Cream Man to drive by. Sometimes, I wish I were a kid again.

Every once in a great while, however, I will find myself in such a state of happiness and feeling carefree, invincible, as if there were nothing wrong in the world. I can forget about job hunting, relationships, paying bills, and keeping up appearances. Every once in awhile, those memories become real — in my mind, I AM a kid again.

Last night, I went to see Wall-E with my brother and his fiancee. It was the most delightful, charming movie I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t action-packed or even super funny, but it was so cute and full of joy that I couldn’t help but giggle every time Wall-E did anything. Last night, I was a kid again.

The story follows a little robot, Wall-E, whose sole job is to pick up trash and compact it into little squares and pile up the squares. There are no humans around and all of the other robots that Wall-E passes are broken and immobile. Occasionally, he scavenges parts and finds little trinkets that amuse him, but most of all, he looks to the sky and wonders what’s out there. One day, he finds out.

For the first half of the movie there is virtually no talking, other than Wall-E and Eve (a visiting robot). And even then, all they say is “Wallllll-eeeeeeee!” and “Eeeeeeeeeeve!” Yet you get every emotion Wall-E has (yes, robots have emotions here.. it’s a Pixar movie, get over it!). You feel bad for Wall-E when things go wrong, happiness when they go right, fear when he’s in trouble, elation when he makes it through.

And over and over again, you think “Awwww”.

The artists and animators at Pixar have, in the past decade, become master storytellers. Each story up until now contained vast amounts of dialogue, but Wall-E shows their skill at telling a story without the use of too many words. Each word is carefully added and considered, and any word that is uttered brings that much more poignancy and emotion to the scene. Even saying “Wall-E” and “Eve” in various ways conveys emotions and meaning that one would be hard pressed to see in real life.

For you actors, directors, producers, playwrights, designers, take a lesson from Wall-E and Pixar. Try and tell the same story with fewer words. You’d be surprised at the result.

Do your inner child a favor. Take your family and go see Wall-E today — and feel free to giggle hysterically. It’s okay.

Really.