The (Dreaded) Silent Role

While greats like Charlie Chaplin reveled in the "Silent Role", it is a role most actors try to avoid.

However, sometimes a silent role can be more desirable than most people realize. Getting back to Chaplin... he could do a lot without speaking a single word. Even in his own talkies, like Limelight (1952). Yes, his character speaks. But there are some great moments when the best stuff is all in the body language.

Another great "silent" role comes from Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939): The President of the Senate, played by actor Harry Carey.

Before Carey signed on to play the role, other famous character actors were first offered this role. However, they turned it down because of one thing: the lack of dialogue.

No one realized quite how Director Frank Capra would make this role into one of the more memorable characters in the entire film! Watch the movie and you'll notice the number of lines is decidedly on the low side. However, it was such a good role that Harry Carey actually received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor!

And then there's Dumbo (1941). Dumbo says nothing. Absolutely nothing. Everything comes through his facial expressions. Especially those eyes.

Ah, but you could say that that was seventy years ago... Things have changed. It worked for Chaplin. It worked for Dumbo (who's a cartoon, don't forget). But would it work for movies today? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it depends on the role. It's gotta still be believable and work within the movie world.

It's certainly a challenge we filmmakers can take up. To create some good "silent role" characters worth their weight in gold. A role that no actor should ever dread playing.

Chaplin's World of Sound

Charlie Chaplin became world famous in the era of pantomime. When movies were silent. (Even now, most people would probably be able to recognize his "Little Tramp".)

But, Chaplin had trouble when the reality of sound came to the movies. (Here's one of our old blog posts about how he didn't like all the sound gear needed to make a talkie.)

Once the Jazz Singer (1927) came out, all the studios were scrambling to come out with their own talkies. But not Charlie... His next two films -- The Circus (1928) and City Lights (1931) -- remained as silent films. The King of Pantomime couldn't make the switch. At least, not yet...

Then Chaplin released a film called Modern Times in 1936. When he began filming, Chaplin experimented with recording dialogue. But, ultimately he was unhappy with the results. So he abandoned -- yet again -- the idea of making a talkie. However, he did concede in a couple ways.

Modern Times is a movie about machines... And how machines are controlling our lives. The only "dialogue" in the movie comes from machines. The factory-owner barks out commands on a Star-Trek-like console (before Star Trek was even invented!). And there's the pre-recorded demonstration of the machine designed to feed the factory workers in an efficient manner.

By the end of the movie, Chaplin does something interesting. His Tramp "speaks" -- or rather sings -- for the first time on camera.

Yet it's not quite as straight forward as all that. Chaplin has another trick up his sleeve.

We've come to the part of the plot where the Tramp has finally obtained a job as a singing waiter. He's not very good at the waiter part and his boss tells him (via intertitle) that he better be a good singer. Then, while the Tramp prepares to go on stage for his turn, we get to watch and hear a snippet of the other singing waiters. The anticipation is building up to the Tramp's turn on stage. And here's where Chaplin thumbs his nose at us. (SPOILER!) The song is in gibberish. The Tramp has forgotten the words to the song he's supposed to sing. So... he makes up nonsense words.

And it works. For his audience in the movie world. And for us, the audience watching the movie. Even if we don't exactly understand what he's singing, we get the gist of the song. And the song is a delight to watch. (If you haven't seen it, watch the movie.)

This movie was the first time people heard the Little Tramp's voice. It was also the last time. Chaplin never made another movie featuring his well-beloved character.

[Photo by /pitzyper!]

5 Pitfalls of a Remake

Have you ever thought much about movie remakes? How many of them have you actually really enjoyed?

Often when people talk about a remake of a particularly beloved film, they usually say something like "Why did they have to spoil a great movie?"

Remakes don't usually have a good reputation. So, why do they exist?

Oftentimes, it seems that a remake exists to update the story. For example, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974) is a heist movie that takes place in -- can you believe this? -- the 1970s. So, it's a bit dated. Not in a bad way. But certainly in a 1970s way. The updated version of the movie came out in 2009.

Pitfall #1 - The Need to Update the Technology
This one assumes that modern audiences just won't be able to understand what life was like back in the 1970s.

Since thirty years years after the original, the folks in Hollywood decide the story needs to be updated. In the original movie, the transit police (i.e. the good guys) have no clue what was happening in the hijacked subway train. The hijackers were equally blind to what was going on above ground. This actually works to the hero's benefit. Police Officer Garber is able to stall for time. It also keeps him ignorant to the hijacker's identities, which is key to the final scene when he's searching door-to-door.

In the remake, they make a point to give Ryder (i.e. the bad guy) internet access. This also applies to a laptop that just happens to have its webcam eye on the subway car. A particular plot point that, when it comes down to it, doesn't really have a point.

Pitfall #2 - Retooling Character Traits
Now, let's compare the performances of the leads. You got some great actors in the original. How do you top it? Well, you get equally good (or at least well-known) actors for the remake. You might even do a little retooling with the character traits.

Cool and calculating Robert Shaw (as Mr. Blue, the leader of the hijackers) vs. the loose-cannon, John Travolta (same character, but called Ryder in the remake). Denzel Washington's character (2009's Garber) gets some shades of gray with a backstory involving a bribery. Walter Matthau (1974's Garber) has his foibles, but is clearly the hero.

How do Washington and Travolta compare with Matthau and Shaw? Well, sometimes it's a matter of personal preference.

Pitfall #3 - Getting Rid of Supporting Actors
In addition to the lead actors, sometimes a remake will lessen the importance of a supporting role. In this case, the motorman-turned-hijacker. In the remake, he's killed off halfway through the movie. In the original, he gets a lot more screentime. In fact, it's his story that closes the movie.

Pitfall #4 - Trying to Find Deep Meaning
This is a heist movie, plain and simple. And the 1974 version treated it as such with a dash of comedy.

The remake sought to find deeper meaning in the story by trying to psychoanalyse the characters. The whole bribery subplot illustrates this. Did the hero (Garber, played by Denzel Washington), or did he not, take the bribe?? The movie doesn't really answer that question. This ambiguity actually puts Garber more or less on the same level as the bad guy, Ryder. Because it isn't clear on what really happened, the audience can make the assumption that it isn't that important to the story. (Take it out, and you wouldn't miss it.)

In the original, the bad guy (Robert Shaw) and his methodical calculations aren't given backstory. And, it works. The main thrust of this movie is, will Garber (Walter Matthau) foil the hijackers? Or will the hijackers succeed? Simple enough. It works.

Pitfall #5 - Relying on a Cookie Cutter Ending
The remake often will fall into the we-need-more-explosions pitfall. While the movie tries hard to bring meaning to the actions of Ryder/Garber, it also decides to use the cookie-cutter ending of most action movies. Add a car chase. Get actors running after each other on a bridge. These are all rather predictable and rather over-used in the industry.

In the original, there's the element of chase, but it's more low-key. What's interesting is that Robert Shaw's story does not close the movie. All the hijackers are dead, except one. And he's the motorman. We know his identity, but Matthau's Garber does not. So, the tension's pretty high when they come face to face... But we won't spoil the ending (in case you haven't seen it).

These are just some of the pitfalls that many remakes face. Do you agree? Have you come across a remake that defies these pitfalls?

The Theme of Character

We all know movies have themes, right?

But have you considered that characters inside of movies can also have their own themes? Take, for instance, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975). The story takes place in a psychiatric facility. Jack Nicholson's character, McMurphy, represents freedom. Nurse Ratched symbolizes the repression experienced by the psychiatric patients.

This is beautifully illustrated in the scene where McMurphy wants to watch the ballgame on TV. In her classic dictatorial style, Nurse Ratched says no. No matter what argument he gives.

And there's nothing McMurphy can do about it.

Except there is. Staring at the blank screen of the TV, he suddenly gets an idea. McMurphy starts to make up a play-by-play for an imaginary ballgame. The other patients come in to see what the fuss is about. Gradually they pick up the spirit of the "game". Cheering. Yelling. Enjoying themselves as if they were really watching the ballgame on TV.

And there's nothing Nurse Ratched can really do about it.

When Surprise becomes Dramatic Irony

In an earlier blog post, we talked about the use of surprise in filmmaking. We mentioned that maybe surprise isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Surprise is related to mystery. Think about a birthday package. If you genuinely don't know what's in the box -- and it turns out to be something you really want -- than that surprise becomes memorable and effective.

And yet, it only lasts for a moment.

You can never truly re-live that moment of surprise. Same goes with movies. Once you know the secret, it's no longer a surprise. (Unless you have a very bad memory and can't remember anything.)

Now, that doesn't mean a movie that uses the element of surprise is necessarily bad. There are very good movies that use surprise. It's just that if you were to watch the movie a second time, that particular scene is no longer operating in the same way.

For example, when you re-watch The Empire Strikes Back for the second, third, fourth (or you fill in the blank) time, you will never experience the I-can't-believe-it!-Darth-Vader-is-Luke's-father! moment again.

No, instead of surprise, it now becomes tension. Or rather, dramatic irony.

We know the secret. In the movie, Luke doesn't know it. Even in Star Wars, the whole Ben Kenobi line about how Vader murdered Luke's father brings new meaning after you've watched all three of the original trilogy.

This is probably why Star Wars fans keep coming back to these movies. They weren't just about the surprise or shock of the moment. A movie should be enjoyed on different levels. An element of surprise should be able to morph nicely into dramatic irony.

[Photo via flikr, courtesy of lawndart]

The Surprise Ending

The surprise ending in a movie can be a good thing. Audiences like surprises. Far too often, movies are too predictable, we applaud when a filmmaker succeeds in creating a genuine plot twist that upends what is expected.

But, bringing the surprise factor to a movie is not easy. Practically everything's been done before.

One movie that is known for its surprise ending is Planet of the Apes (1968). For the entire movie, Charlton Heston (and by default, the audience) thinks he's on some distant planet. But the surprise is in the final reveal: a deteriorating Statue of Liberty... (He was on Earth the whole time!)


Perhaps one of the problems that comes with the surprise ending is that eventually enough people talk about it that it's no longer a surprise. Take a look at the recent DVD cover for the movie (see image on right). It completely gives away the whole secret. The 1968 poster did not do this (image on left).

And it's not just audiences. In the case of The Planet of the Apes, its secret has become part of popular culture. Perhaps you can blame parodies like the episode of The Simpsons where they make a musical based on this movie.

In a case such as this, you can certainly argue that surprise isn't always ideal.

Any thoughts as to whether or not you think the surprise ending is worth it?

Conflict is to Drama...

Conflict is to drama what water is to fish.

Or another way to think about it is that it has something to do with Newton's 3rd law. (That's the one that says that every action has an equal reaction). Too much peace and serenity in a story, and it turns into boredom.

Unfortunately, some films have taken this idea to the level where every scene has to have a chase or an explosion. But does that mean that every movie has to be about bombs blowing up? (We wrote a similar post about this.) If it did, we'd miss out on a lot of good movie plots.

Conflict doesn't have to be manifest in explosions. Yes, it may, but it isn't mandatory. Conflict can be with oneself, with others who are nearby, against a diabolical system. (Yes, even with giant robots who intend to blow up the universe, if that's the genre you're going for).

That's not to say that explosions are bad. It's just to say that sometimes an explosion can be metaphorical.

When story comes second after special effects, it shows.

[Photo via flikr, courtesy of felt is the fabric]

The Backstory of Star Wars

If you think about it, the Star Wars prequels are basically just backstory.

In fact, one could argue that they are actually unnecessary backstory. In essence, there's really nothing new learned in the prequels that we didn't already know from the original trilogy.

The original trilogy handles backstory just fine. Little by little, the old jedi, Ben Kanobi, tells Luke who Darth Vader really is... that Vader is responsible for the death of Luke's father.

But then, when we think we have him all figured out, there's a plot twist in the second movie (Empire Strikes Back): the revelation that Vader actually is Luke's father. It just adds another detail to our understanding of the backstory. Add to that yet another plot twist that comes out in the third movie.

The problem that the prequels had, especially for those who were around when the original trilogy came out, is this: Our imagination is so strong, usually it's hard to top. We put together the clues to form the full backstory in our minds.

Put the two trilogies back-to-back, and you'll find that there are little inconsistencies. Backstory and story don't quite match, especially regarding the reasons and circumstances surrounding the turn of Anakin Skywalker to the dark side.

Yes, the special effects in the prequels blow away the effects in the original.

But, this is one case where too much backstory is not always a good thing.

Bicyles, War Rooms, and Breakfast at Tiffany's

Sometimes, movies can make things seem so REAL.

There are people who, on a trip to NYC, expect to find that breakfast is served at Tiffany's.

There are people who ask to see the basement at Alamo. Hoping to find Pee Wee's red bike there, perchance? There are actually signs posted to remind that the Alamo is site where a lot of people died. (In other words, don't ask about the bike!)

And then there is the story (or, urban legend?) of the newly-elected President Ronald Reagan... who, during a tour of the White House, asked to see the War Room; only to be disappointed when he was informed that such a room does NOT exist. (Maybe Reagan could have had Stanley Kubrick design a War Room while he was in office, and get Peter Sellars to play the part of Dr. Strangelove.)

Yes, Hollywood can be pretty persuasive.

However, who was it that said that you can fool all the people some of the time, some of the people all the time, but you can't fool all the people all the time?...

[Photo courtesy of cpmanda]

The Art of Danger

Who would deny that stunt work in movies can be dangerous? Which is why few actors do their own stunts. Or, rather, why the insurance companies won't let certain actors do their own stunts.

Here a short list of a few unfortunate events involving stunt work:

• The Wicked Witch of the West (Margaret Hamilton) was burned in the scene where she vanishes from Munchkinland in a cloud of smoke in The Wizard of Oz (1939). And it was the actress who did her own "stunt". (Note: In the finished movie, they did not use this take. Instead, they used was an earlier take where you can see the smoke is released a tad early -- which is why they had asked for another take in the first place.)
• In the Lord of the Rings trilogy (2001-2003), actor Viggo Mortensen (Aragorn) was known for doing his own stunts. Director Peter Jackson dubbed him one of the "Walking Wounded" since he sustained some fairly serious injuries during filming.
• Unfortunately, there are also stuntman who have died on set. For example, the stunt pilot who crashed his plane in The Flight of the Phoenix (1965). (The movie is dedicated to his memory.)
• And who of recent years can forget hearing about the tragedy that befell Brandon Lee, killed in a stunt involving a gun during the filming of The Crow (1994).

And yet audiences crave stunts.

Okay, so while we don't have any big car chases or people jumping off mountains -- including stunt disasters -- in our upcoming feature film Under Jakob's Ladder. But the movie did require a few of its own "stunts".

A while ago, we posted an interview with our stunt coordinator, Matthew R. Staley... In that interview, we decided to save some of the interview questions for a later blog post. Well, this is a blog post. And this is later...

We asked him about how he goes about preparing for a stunt.

Matthew's answer:

"Though science is frequently involved, preparing a stunt is still very much an art. Every script is different and presents its own unique challenges. It is all-too-easy to write a line in a script without having to give thought to the difficulty involved of actually visually achieving it onscreen (i.e. "The hero leaps to safety just in time as the helicopter explodes above him"). It is up to the Stunt Coordinator to devise a way to safely and believably achieve a physical action that a writer has written and that a director wants to shoot a certain way."

Of course, that is just our problem... as script writers. It is easy to write in a stunt. It's much harder to get that stunt safely performed.

And yet there are people who thrive on the potential danger. Mind you, these stunts are well thought out. Matthew was very safety-conscious on set. The key of a stunt is to make it look dangerous, not actually be dangerous.

When asked if there was any stunt he hasn't yet done, but would love to do... this was his answer:

"I have been very fortunate to have performed a variety of different stunts over the years. But if a script called for me to perform a high fall while on fire or roll a car, I certain wouldn't turn the opportunity down!"

Maybe that's something to consider for our next movie!

Why Call it a Movie Trailer?

Did you ever wonder why we refer to movie trailers as "trailers"?

A trailer is supposed to "trail" things, right? Like the trailer trails behind the truck. (Try saying that five times fast!) So, isn't it kinda odd to say we watch movie trailers BEFORE the feature movie begins?

So... then, why do we call it a movie trailer?

Here's what we dug up. Apparently, back in 1966, an executive at Paramount told the L.A. Times this story about the "first trailer" which screened at a New York amusement park in 1912:

"One of the concessions hung up a white sheet and showed the serial 'The Adventures of Kathlyn.' At the end of the reel Kathlyn was thrown in the lion's den. After this 'trailed' a piece of film asking 'Does she escape the lion's pit? See next week's thrilling chapter!' Hence, the word 'trailer,' an advertisement for a coming picture."

Of course, that would work very well for a serial cliffhanger.

But as history moves on, trailers became useful to more than just for those types of movies. In essence, a trailer is just an advertisement. And movie theatres (as well as the studios) wanted people to actually watch the trailers.

That's when some brilliant entrepreneur must have realized that people tend to leave once the movie is over. "Hey, the movie's done. Time to go!"

However, put the movie trailer BEFORE the movie... now you have an audience.

Think about it. Would you sit AFTER the movie's done to watch a bunch of movie trailers? Nah, you got more important things to do. On the other hand, how often have you allowed yourself to sit through movie trailers (often for movies you don't really care to see) just because you're forced to wait to watch the newest Lord of the Rings movie? You may not like it, but you'll wait.

P.S. Sometimes movie trailers are called "previews", or "coming attractions". Both of those seem to make a lot of sense. But still the name "trailer" has stuck. Really, when was the last time you asked a friend, "Did you see the preview on the internet for the new [FILL IN THE BLANK] movie?!" Probably not. Probably you called it a movie trailer... like everybody else.

[Photo courtesy of chidorian]

Straying from the Truth

Some more thoughts on artifice and truth. (This post is really a continuation of last week's post.)

Screenwriter William Goldman, in his book Which Lie Did I Tell, says: "What is genuinely heroic in life many not work for film. It simply, as they say, won't shoot." Goldman goes on to tell a story how he personally once saved a kid from drowning. "In real life it was extraordinary. On film, nothing." (p.80-83)

In his book, he then recounts how he came across a heart-chilling true story of the heroic John Henry Patterson -- a man who hunted down and killed two man-eating lions in East Africa. "It took him nine months, but he got the first [lion]."

(Look at the photo... That's one of the lions.)

Then, after patiently waiting up in a tree, Patterson got the second lion.

What kind of movie would that have been? As Goldman put it: "For nine months he sits in a tree? Wow. For nine months, his plans mostly suck? Whoopee. For nine months he fails?"

In movie-making, sometimes you have to stray from the truth a bit. Shrink a time line. Meld several people into one character. Add a character to help move the story along.

But the key is this; you also need to remain true to the essence of the historical event or person. If you as the filmmaker can do that, than the movie based-on-a-true- story -- although you may have strayed from the truth -- will be truthful in the way that art is truthful.

(By the way, that's why historical movies tend to use the term "based" on a true story. As opposed to proclaiming: "A true story" or "This movie is 100% accurate in its historical depictions. Learn your history from us!")

Truth in Historical Movies

How important is truth in a movie? Especially a movie based on history?

Take The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957). One distraught viewer of the movie made this comment on the IMDb movie forums:

"There was a time that I really thought that this movie was excellent. I had given it a 9 star rating. That was before I watched a special on the History Channel with interviews with survivors. I have never watched this movie again, changed my rating to one star, and threw away the VHS tape that I had..."

That one-star rating is a pity. What this person failed to take into account is that the greatness of this movie doesn't lie in the precise facts of the historical setting.

Or, as Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote:

"Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures."

Art is contrived; there's no way around that. The trick is to artistically hide this fact. In a movie like The Bridge on the River Kwai, the story rides between the poles of both fact and fiction. This particular story is really more just a historical document about an event during World War 2. It's about how one man's greatest strength is also his greatest weakness.

A movie's purpose is to tell an engaging story. A great movie both tells an engaging story and strives to communicate a truth.

[Photo courtesy of Dave W. Clarke]

Nightmare at the Movies

You sit down in a crowded movie theatre. You've paid your money. You've been anticipating this movie and you can't wait for it to begin. The previews are finally over and you settle into your seat when...

A cell phone rings.

It's not your cell phone. It belongs to the guy next to you. How do you know this? Because he actually answers the phone. And then proceeds to talk. All the while, you are trying to concentrate on the movie!

Finally, he hangs up. But, unfortunately, the "nightmare at the movies" has begun. As the couple behind you begin a running commentary on the entire movie, the teen in front of you begins texting. While it's true that she's not saying a word, that bright little screen can be very distracting.

What do you do?

However, this kind of behavior from some moviegoers isn't all that new... Even back in the 1920s, during the heyday of silent films, they had problems! Okay, so they didn't have cell phones back then. But, they did have to deal with different issues.

Since silent films are, well, silent. No sound means no dialogue. Okay, there was a little dialogue, but it was all on title cards. Nothing audible. Still, moviegoers complained about the patron who decided they would read each title as it came on screen.

In fact, in Kansas City, the theatre owners thought this was such a problem that they asked a young Walt Disney -- before the days of Mickey -- to create short cartoons to address this issue. Disney created several of his Laugh-O-Grams to feature a comical professor who would slam a mallet on the head of title readers; or would release a trapdoor that would chute them to the street.

Do you have any nightmare stories that you've endured at the movies? Share your experiences in the comments below...

Silence Can Be Golden

Movies are just moving pictures. Right?

Legendary director, Alfred Hitchcock, is said to have loved silence. Perhaps that can be traced to his beginnings during the era of silent film.

Certainly, some of the most remembered sequences from his films could very well have been silent. If there was sound, it was natural noise. If there was dialogue, it was more often than not unintelligible.

Think of the guy falling from the Statue of Liberty in Saboteur. The championship tennis match, (not to mention the fairgrounds sequence) in Strangers on a Train. And in Rope, it's the maid clearing the trunk, quietly observed by the camera -- the main actors aren't even on screen.

These golden moments of silence can be very powerful.

Sometimes, when you're editing a movie, you have something all planned out. But then you find a moment of silence -- quite serendipitously. Which is what has happened in one particular spot in our feature film, Under Jakob's Ladder.

As we were editing one section of the movie -- a scene involving a character who angrily throws a box against a wall -- we wrote music to underscore the tension of the moment. However, on one of the renders, we noticed something missing from this scene. The music had disappeared, but only on that section of the scene. (This would have been due to us muting the track that held the music before rendering the scene out to watch it.)

And that particular moment had become silent. Well, not completely silent. But the music was gone. And the moment became stronger with its absence.

Sometimes, action is louder than words.

Or music, in this case.

Predictions in 3D

There are lots of predictions going around right now as to future of 3D.

Although, it's not like 3D is new.

But, with a whole assortment of movies being released in 3D -- Avatar, Alice in Wonderland, to name a couple -- it's certainly on people's minds. But is 3D just a passing fad? Or is it here to stay?

Everybody is making predictions. But predictions can be interesting things.

For example, in 1900, a writer for the New York Times predicted that the advent of the automobile would solve the parking problem. The reasoning? The auto occupies less space at a curb than a horse and wagon. (Oops! Bad prediction.)

Second example... Have you ever heard of "Disney's Folly"? This was the pejorative nickname for a full-length animated feature film that Walt Disney had in production in the 1930s. Up to this point, no one had ever attempted a movie-length cartoon. People in the movie industry predicted that it'd be the death of Walt Disney Productions.

In addition to this, Walt disney even had opposition even inside his own fledgling studio. After a viewing of the almost-completed movie, one employee wrote an anonymous note to Walt: "Stick to shorts!" (This note apparently upset him for days.)

Of course, ultimately, Walt Disney got the last laugh.

Because the movie that his peers had dubbed "disney's Folly" was, of course, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

(By the way, after the enormous success of Snow White, if a Disney employee responded in a negative manner to one of Walt disney's ideas, he would exclaim, "I'll bet you're the guy who wrote 'Stick to shorts'!")

So... what about 3D?

Well, they're coming out with 3D televisions, now. One thing to consider is that these TVs are rather expensive, especially considering there are only a handful of movies out there using 3D technology.

And you still have to wear those glasses.

What do you think? Is 3D here to stay?

Real Life Versus the Movies

Memorable Taglines

We're working on some poster ideas for our feature film Under Jakob's Ladder.

And with poster ideas come taglines. But finding a good tagline... not an easy task.

A good tagline sums up the plot, or maybe the movie's tone or theme. Usually, you got to do that in only a few words. It's meant to draw interest, to create a hey-I-got-to-see-that-movie response from movie-goers. It's got to be pithy. And memorable.

Some taglines from the early days of film would not be acceptable in today's movie world. For example, there's "Garbo talks!" from the 1930 film Anna Christie. (In 1930, that would have been a big selling point. But it doesn't really tell you much about was the story is about!) Then there's Citizen Kane's tagline from 1941: "EVERYBODY'S TALKING ABOUT IT! It's Terrific!"

Nowadays, there are people who actually make their living writing movie taglines.

Here are some examples of the modern tagline. (Bonus: Can you guess what they have in common?)

"Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free."
The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

"Put a fence in front of these men...and they'll climb it..."
The Great Escape (1963)

"No one has ever escaped from Alcatraz... And no one ever will!"
Escape from Alcatraz (1979)

"His greatest fight was for justice."
The Hurricane (1999)

If you didn't catch it, all the taglines are from prison movies. Which, of course, is the genre of 'Under Jakob's Ladder'. Now, all we have to do is come up with a good tagline for our own movie...

Ideas, anyone?

(Too bad 'Citizen Kane' already took "It's Terrific!")

Poll Results | Movie Ticket Prices

We asked you how much you're willing to spend on a movie ticket. Here's what you told us...

$10 -- 39%
Less than $7 -- 33%
I don't buy movie tickets -- 11%
$15 -- 6%
$20 -- 6%
Price does not affect me -- 5%

$25 or more -- 0%
$12 -- 0%

Are you surprised by these results?

The Cost of a Movie Ticket

When was the last time you went to see a movie at the theatre? Did your heart sink to see the price of the ticket? Or maybe you gave no thought as to the amount you had to pay at the box office...

Did you know that in 1948, the average ticket price to see a movie in the U.S. was just 36 cents?! Ten years later, in 1958, the price nearly doubled... to 68 cents a ticket.

Take a look at the chart below. Notice the average price doubles for each decade (the exception being from 1988 to 1998).

1948 -- $0.36
1958 -- $0.68
1967 -- $1.22
1978 -- $2.34
1988 -- $4.11
1998 -- $4.69
2008 -- $7.18

Hmmm... What does that mean for the next decade? If we're at an average of $7.18 per ticket right now, double that and you jump to around $14.00 a ticket.

Of course, these figures are the average for the entire United States. Spend some time in New York. We're already paying between $10-$14 for a movie ticket in NYC. So, that would make the average New York City movie ticket $20-$28 in 2018, right? (Popcorn, anyone?)

What do you think? What are you willing to pay for a ticket to see a movie? (Where do you draw the line? $10? $15? $30???)

Take our poll... {This poll is now closed, but you can still leave a comment below.}

Also, feel free to leave a comment...