Dodging Potholes

I was driving along a never-ending deserted road. So long and dusty I thought I would never reach the end. It was my bridge to nowhere. After the dust cleared I could see them. Their expressionless faces, hundreds of them, some dark, others even darker. Staring at me with eyes full of pain, staring at me like I had the answers. Who was hurting more in all of this? It had been 7 years since peace had graced these harsh lands. What would I tell my daughter? Of what world would I tell her stories of? If she knew where her father was it would break her heart, break both of ours. But I had another heart on my mind as of late and it was one of immense darkness. One that had cloaked the region in fear for so long many people had forgotten which way was up.
They never told me of the unique emotions that would rush over me. Pounding at my soul like careless ocean waves, this was never in the manual. As dictators screamed vengeance and generals barked orders from soft chairs I drove headfirst into the unknown. In a luxury car nonetheless, a solitary pawn in a wicked game of undying treachery.
If I was caught I would be tortured. Or killed…or both. I would deny my true identity along with my country of origin. And my leaders would do the same. They continued to stare. Was it me or the Mercedes I was in? They seemed so transfixed on me, I almost felt like I knew them somehow. The car continued on, barreling across a country that time forgot, and so I wish my government had too.
In for a penny in for a pound, oh she was a harlot. Our great nation in bed with no one, in bed with everyone. I felt safe when my tail finally arrived. She was a rich one though. I could see the metallic grey helicopter streaming overhead in my side mirror. A hawk of death, sent to protect, sent to kill.

“Burn it. She said. Light up the whole region in a fiery blaze”.

Our director was a feisty one. First female head of a department…ever. Never mind the CIA. If it was the wrong time of the month you can bet some poor soul in a far off place was suffering. She was fired shortly after what happened. I resigned as well, after the horrors in Africa had followed me home to Connecticut. I could accept the possibility of my own death, but not a loved one.
It was supposed to be straightforward. Dangerous…but simple. It’s always risky when trying to manipulate a country from afar. Isn’t that what the British learned? Whoever said history repeats itself must have been burned…twice.
The attack chopper raced overhead as I neared my destination, in a nation of destiny. Plenty of people around, local villagers moving about. Who are the terrorists I asked myself. Which ones were plotting to bomb us or shoot at us? It always seemed they were waiting for exactly the right moment to strike. Innocent people get killed, a sad reality everyone knows all too well. As I neared the so-called safe house I noticed a playground in the distance. The helicopter veered off towards the coastline. I could no longer see it. I received one last radio transmission from my superiors back home. The mission was still a go. I had to mark the target. I pulled up to the building. With my heart racing I clicked the radio on and off a few times to verify that this was the place. I was growing impatient because they were supposed to respond right away, no matter what. Tapping on the steering wheel with my sweaty palms I anxiously gazed around. In my rearview mirror I saw a flash of light up on a hilltop. We’re taught early on that most likely it’s a sniper, the reflection of the sun off a scope. I waited a few more seconds for them to verify my position via GPS. They never verified it…as far as I remember. I then pulled away quickly with dust and sand swirling up around my car. I thought of my family right then and there as I flew across that strange continent. An image of my wife’s hair moving gracefully filled my mind. I could almost touch it, I could almost smell it. I had never felt so disconnected. So many years of dancing a dance of death in far off countries. So many years of lies to people I met, friends and enemies. So many years of lies to my family and the biggest lie of was the one I told myself. That putting myself in harm’s way would save my family and countless other American families. But all along our relationships were badly strained because of the very protection I tried to bring them.

A few minutes later after when I was a good distance from the target I received a radio message. They were trying to contact me. “Can you verify the position? The chopper had to turn back due to the threat of RPG attacks. The heli is now in route to your target”. Thinking of my wife and child I could only look down at the radio. I was numb. I had seen enough, and I didn’t want to be apart of the masquerade any longer. I looked up slowly and I could see a bunch of villagers running towards the target building. That was when I heard the chopper. The villagers were running because the small school behind it was just letting their kids out for recess. I froze. The helicopter came screaming in and fired off several missiles that blew up the target building as well as part of the school. I ran from my car crying and yelling. But the sound of the chopper was too loud and the cries of the villagers and mine were never heard. Only the cries of the children remained after the horrifying whizzing of the missiles had subsided.
When I had come back home, it was all over the news. I was an undercover in another country so my name was not released. But my superiors were held accountable for war crimes. The military court found that the target was never completely verified but the Director and Deputy Director still went through with the strike. They claimed the loss of those civilian children as collateral damage. Their lawyers argued that there was a bigger picture. And the killing of the terrorist in that safe house saved thousands of lives. Too bad my wife was not one of those.
Four weeks ago I murdered my wife in our Connecticut home. The horrors of that war and others had come home with me. An uninvited guest if you will. My rage had become a malevolent force that I could no longer contain. My wife had told me I was different when I first got back. She said I seemed…older. I write this letter to you from my cell, because I have no one to talk to. My daughter hasn’t spoken to me since the night before I killed her mother. I still love them, I do. I just am a sick person. I don’t know if I’ll ever get better. But I do know one thing that if you don’t take this letter to heart you may end up just like me, building a bridge to nowhere. Hopefully I can you save you from building your bridge.

Sincerely,
Corporal Reed Stevens…to all future agents.

Remember from Jayson Lecuyer on Vimeo.

The movie The Usual Suspects is directed by Bryan Singer and scripted by his good friend Christopher McQuarrie. This neo-noir crime thriller centers on a group of small-time criminals brought into a police line-up. A mysterious figure that may or may not exist orders them to team up on a once in a lifetime score. It is a job so big and dangerous that not all of them will make it out alive.
As the credits role in the beginning symphony music is heard as the camera pans slowly across a body of water at night. A lone street light reflects of the water. This creates a mood of intrigue and mystery as the piano melody moves almost in sync with the ripples of water. A shadowy figure at night emerges, his face almost completely obscured. They are on a ship, it is burning. Music picks up right before the man throws his lit cigarette onto a tiny river of gasoline running across the deck. The music hits its peak and a close-up shot of the man’s hand wearing a black glove is seen with orange embers flashing in the night sky as the cigarette spins and flips. An explosion occurs and the symphony escalates in unison with the flames rising high above the harbor.
The next scene the crooks are being caught one by one by the police to be brought in for questioning. Flashlights stream into a dark room with a lone man sleeping, handcuffs jangling in the background. Right as he is grabbed there is an immediate jump cut to a paint can being shook by motorized apparatus. I think it was shown to demonstrate the harshness and to set the scene that the next man being taken in is working in a garage. The man reaches for something and the cops run over, he says a line then he throws his oily rag into the camera which in my mind gracefully ends and then sets up the next man getting apprehended. The visual frame had gone from a rag getting thrown at it to black then it jumps to a Mexican man walking on the street. He is calm and cool, bright colors cover the screen even his shirt is hard not to notice. Once he notices the cops the camera does a series of jump cuts to a deep drum beating conveying the ritual of arrest that he knows all to well.
Throughout the movie the main character’s girlfriend is always filmed in good lighting and nice music is either being played or she is always shot well positioned within the visual frame. I think the director did this to show that she was pure unlike his criminal behavior which he was trying desperately to keep in the past.

When the men are interrogated all of them are filmed in a harsh light beaming down on their faces. The cops’ faces are not shown nor are they illuminated by the harsh light. It might be shown to dramatize the long arm of the law staring down on them like a microscope, searching for any weaknesses or discrepancies in their statements.
Every time the mysterious figure Keyser Soze is shown he is always slightly obscured. They use either lighting or the lack thereof. Shadows cover his face as he walks in slow motion towards the camera. Another scene they use normal lighting but they add a blurry dream-like effect to a flashback. One more part is when he is stalking someone who has betrayed him he is never shown; only his shadow is, creeping up the wall slowly; until it swallows his victim like the fear itself. The director and editor it seems work hand in hand to keep this figure enigmatic and elusive.

Another impressive scene that exhibits Bryan Singer’s innate ability to convey unique emotions through imagery is the elevator sequence. It starts with low ominous strings as the victims enter the building lobby. The music picks up drastically as their silhouettes head towards the elevator. The hit man is zoomed in on as the elevator doors close on him. Shots of the elevator cables going down the lobby are shown. The men get on the elevator, the lights go out and two guns shots are heard. The lights go back on and there are two blood stains on the glass and one man remaining in the middle, the lights flicker on and off as they go up. A shot of the elevator cables zooming up to the highest floor hits again with the musical crescendo. An elegant pan of the city and the skyscraper rises together with the harmony of the musical score. This last shot appears to be alluding to the fact they have reached their heights as small time criminals and they are finally rolling the dice and demanding to know more about the mysterious figure and his associate who have hired them for what they know all too well is a suicide mission.

Ok hold the fuck on.  What the hell is going on with our world?  Yeah, I know people have been asking this question for a long time, but lately it’s getting worse.  I recently witnessed a news report on CNN.com.  The piece was about high school football game in which a wall collapsed and fans came toppling down.  No one was seriously injured as I far as I know.  And the video isn’t really that gruesome.  It’s basically a bunch of people excited about the game and then the stands crumble.  They fell but were low to the ground.  Now I’m not sure how much this says about our society, but bear with here.

     Now I’m writing this not because of what happened, but what took place right after that.  Most people reacted with screams of panic and loud gasps.  Then they either helped or looked on to make sure people close to them were ok.  But there was one guy who just doesn’t really seem like a winner.  He was cheering and happy and then all of a sudden his face turned scared and he just watched everyone fall.  They were all on the ground screaming and moaning, and what this man did next is beyond me.  Ok mind you this kid is a male (of course) and he is probably 16-19 years old.  He looked to be in shape and healthy.  He wasn’t wearing a cast nor did he look sick.  If anything I would go on to say he was probably one of the bigger people in the stands, but not fat.  He was also wearing a Tapout shirt.  Now Tapout is a mixed martial arts clothing company.  Mixed martial arts is well, you know what mixed martial arts is.  What his guy did next is beyond me, he screamed like a little girl, saw what had happened.  Which are people on top of each other and pieces of the wall scattered about.  And then he quickly turned around and started to run up the bleachers.  Ok…am I the only one who finds this crazy? 

     Go to CNN.com and see for yourself.  On top of all things he was wearing a Tapout shirt.  He’s wearing a no-holds barred fighting shirt.  Is he trying to act tough or something?  It’s almost as if this kid has been walking around for the past few years with a fake exterior.  When it came time to help others and react accordingly to a situation that was serious, but not that serious; he failed, miserably.  And the fact that he did that all with a Tapout shirt on I think says a lot about this generation coming up.

Top of the mornin to ya! (Except film critics). As you may already know I’m a highly underrated writer and aspiring filmmaker. You might be asking yourself hmm…what inspired this boring article? Well folks, it was just the other day I was reading some bogus movie reviews and I realized how pathetic film critics really are, that’s what motivated me to write this random article.

Let’s talk about movie critics real quick, yes those lovely people who have cake jobs and no real talent to make it, or else they would have already. For the amount of money these people get and paid and the fact that their job is so easy, they should be held to a higher standard. Not to mention they are attempting to dissect America’s most popular art form, cinema. They are attempting to analyze nothing more, nothing less. This is what they do worst. The MAJORITY of film critics (professional complainers) have never even completed a feature length script, never mind made a short film. I’m not even going to mention editing or cinematography.

This same breed of pretentious people denies our films into film festivals across the globe. Who are these faceless judges? What real qualifications do they have? Attention all so called movie buffs and part-time film critics, just because you’ve seen obscure movies and lots of them, doesn’t make you an authority on what makes a movie or a story profound.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but someone had to do it, because your friends and family have been telling you how talented you are that you got another article in USA Today or Entertainment Weekly. Get some real life experience (not just hollow talent there’s a difference). Then use everything you’ve ever learned from YOUR life, the good & the bad and transform that into a great story, jot it down with pencil & paper, then get a camera, then get some editing software. Then round up some actors and lots of money. Devote the next year of your life which will be full of suffering and sacrifices. Then maybe just maybe you can begin to discover what cinema and life truly is, because after all they go hand in hand. Life imitates art and vice versa. Until then we DON’T need your empty remarks, we really don’t. Go scrutinize yourself. How much are the production companies paying you anyway?

     Is it just me or did the whole country totally overlook this whole gay marriage thing? Now I’m not gay, contrary to popular belief. There was that one day when I watched “The Devil Wears Prada” but that’s a whole nother story. Hey Meryl Streep is an amazing actor you can’t knock that.
     Anyway back to our walking contradiction of a country that many call home bittersweet home. Now I’m no brain surgeon but I’ve been watching the old picture box lately and reading the daily cries for help, and it dawned on me. What about the separation between church and state? It just seemed so obvious to me, after all it’s in our first amendment. Freedom of religion, as well as some other must have freedoms. These are not luxuries, these are rights. This is not a democratic or republican issue (I need to go take a cold shower after using those words). This is an issue of human rights (did I just hug a tree?).
     The following is an excerpt from Wikipedia “The concept of separating church and state is often credited to the writings of the British philosopher John Locke. According to his principle of the social contract, Locke argued that the government lacked authority in the realm of individual conscience, as this was something rational people could not cede to the government for it or others to control. For Locke, this created a natural right in the liberty of conscience, which he argued must therefore remain protected from any government authority. These views on religious tolerance and the importance of individual conscience, along with his social contract, became particularly influential in the American colonies and the drafting of the United States Constitution”.
     So why are the powers that be (the state) trying to put their hands in the religious acts (marriage) of others who they don’t even know and never cared about until they popped up in the courthouse demanding equal rights. Like Locke said the government should have no say on whether two males or two females can marry each other. Marriage after all is a religious tradition, so why is the government getting involved? Probably many reasons, one that comes to mind is that old bitter white dudes just can’t handle the fact that society is changing faster than they can change their own diapers. They say marriage is a sacred institution and it should not be corrupted by same sex weddings. This just doesn’t make sense, because in America the divorce rate is horrible, it’s roughly 50%. That means when you go to the altar it’s like flipping a coin, your whole life comes down to the flip of freakin coin? Scared not sacred comes to mind. How bored is everyone in Congress that they have to debate whether Chloe and Beatrice can get married? There should be no debate at all because we have a wall of separation between church and state.
     Let’s take a quick gander at the first amendment! Because I think 7th graders know it better than our congressmen. “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances“. So the United States cannot prohibit the free exercise of a same sex marriage because it is an essence a religious ceremony.  God only knows how many different variations of religions there are not only in America but across the world. Who’s to say how one can practice their beliefs or rituals? Certainly not our government, but alas they do and they waste our taxpayers money when they could be fixing the economy, foreign policy, health care, and education. Waste of fucking time! What does anyone really care if Steve and Ralph tie the knot? If you don’t like it, just look the other way!  Homer doesn’t mind.

My friend Cameron Tylek and I made this music video a few years ago.  It was my first video.  We filmed it mostly in Boston, MA.  Enjoy.

So as most of you already know the world is ending.  And I figured I would trying blogging.  I know it sounds dirty and I swear I will wear protection.  God knows those creams aren’t working!  Ok…moving along.  My cousin inspired me to create this bloggy thing and here we are.  I am an aspiring writer/director and I hope that you enjoy my commentary and wit or lack thereof.