The Griffith Observatory is raised high above LA, so we ran around and gaped at the miles of sprawl below us. From it, one can clearly see the white block letters outlining the most recognized word in the world, “Hollywood”. The notorious sign rests on the hillside above everything else, branding the geography as the land of opportunity, fame and stardom but also of flops, failures and falsehood. It stands as a metal monument to the U.S. movie industry and maybe as marker for the start of our careers.

The truth is, sometimes it feels like a gravestone commemorating all the filmmakers and talent that came before us.  Maybe Hollywood is dying.  People seem to be scrambling at the liquidating industry beneath their feet. High quality cameras and equipment are more accessible now that ever before in the history of filmmaking. Youtube stars have become more valuable to productions than famous names of past films. Content is put straight online without any gatekeepers to prevent the world from viewing it with one easy click. Hollywood may not truly die, but things are definitely changing and they are changing fast. Our generation is in a whole new wave of access and technology. To be honest, I feel like the change in the industry is on my side.

Taking the Hollywood block has opened my eyes. We always joke that CC can be a bubble because school can be so detached from the real world. However, this class has popped the bubble just enough to make me realize that college is the perfect opportunity to take huge risks, and then push even further. We are in a moment of our lives where if we reach out and fail, we will end up exactly where we are.  I’ve never seen all the sides to the bubble. It’s an environment where we can push boundaries and fail. The further in life we get, the more limitations and things to actually lose we will acquire (good or bad). Right now we have everything to gain and nothing to loose.

It is incredible to be here in LA actually experiencing  the industry first hand. There are aspects of culture that cannot be read but must be experienced. I feel like I have a much greater understanding of film as a medium of communication.  I am excited to play with it and use my understanding of the industry to try to create deeper truths that pertain to my own path and career.  Thank you Clay and Dylan for this wonderful opportunity and experience that will alter the course of my life.  As Steve Jobs once said, “the dots connect in hindsight,” but I can already feel the change in me.

I can’t believe it’s already fourth week. Didn’t we all just fly into LAX and settle into the Oakwood screening room for the first day of class like, yesterday? That’s one thing about the block plan, if you blink you’ll probably be in fourth week in the mist of writing a final essay before you know it.

The past weekend was spent wrapping up some loose ends in the class, visiting the Griffith Park Observatory between rain showers, and eating a delicious dim sum celebratory dinner at NBC Seafood Restaurant in Monterey Park with Esther’s father, Gideon. On Friday, we were fortunate enough to visit Doug Pray, a fellow CC alum and previous CC visiting professor, at the HBO editing suites. He was nice enough to speak to the group about his experience in the industry and what it was like to make documentary features while being surrounded by the world of make believe (aka Hollywood). He and two of the people he works with explained how they found themselves in the documentary business, and all of them spoke to the idea of documentary filmmaking as a service industry, serving the people and communities they are filming. Some previous features Doug and his team have worked on include TransFatty Lives, Hype!, and Levitated Mass.

Doug and his team all spoke to the challenge in presenting nonfiction subject matter in a way that also provides entertainment for the viewer. They also spoke to the large reward they all feel when they are able to do this successfully. Documentaries are an editors’ medium. There are directors, producers, sound mixers, and researchers that work on a single doc, but the story plays out in the editing lab. It was a very interesting contrast to the handful of other people that we have met with over the past three weeks.

This visit created a nice balance to the class. Honestly, it was a bit humbling to meet with some people that are successful in Hollywood but for different reasons than the executives and businessmen we have been meeting with over the past three weeks. It really goes to show that only a small percentage of LA is people in the business of make believe. For the next few days, we’ll all be giving our best shot at creating some make believe as we finish our final creative projects to wrap up the end of the block.

Did I mention this block went by faster than any block I’ve ever been in? I know we’re all feeling a bit nostalgic, already.

I will remember Los Angeles, in part, by its food—I’ve had some of the most memorable meals of my life in this city. Here are a few highlights, strange and unexpected and delicious:

Taco Stand —

After the Alumni Party at the Paley Center, the five of us who aren’t on our way to Wisconsin walk to find food and land at a small corner taco shop. A stand out front holds dozens of salsas, but it’s dark and I mostly guess and scoop several kinds into Dixie cups. We sit at a wooden picnic table and eat under a streetlamp. I devour my cow tongue taco—it cost three dollars but is worth a million.

Roscoe’s House of Chicken & Waffles —

The restaurant is windowless, and from the outside, it appears like a fortress. We have to fight through a crowd out front to get our name on the list. Fifteen minutes later, we’re called inside. It’s loud and illuminated in low red light. The place seems like it was originally set up as a cover for something illegal, but the cover—chicken & waffles, naturally—was so successful that the illegal business was given up altogether and the chain exploded. All of us get the same thing: a fried chicken thigh and a waffle.

I thought about Mildred Pierce as we dug into our meal. Our class had seen the film earlier in the block; the story is, among other things, of a single mother who finds financial success starting a chicken and waffle restaurant. I imagined Joan Crawford spinning around Roscoe’s. I imagined her flickering like black and white celluloid, waiting on the late night club-goers.

NBC Seafood Restaurant —

Thirteen of us fit around a round table—the ten of us students, our professors, Dylan and Clay, and Esther’s father who was joining us for the night. A massive lazy Susan sat in the center. We turned it back and forth to dole out dishes and cups of hot tea. A platter of pork, chicken, ham, and jellyfish arrived first. This was only an appetizer. Over the next two hours we ate scallops, steamed bok choy, spongy mushrooms, fried halibut, red bean soup, creamy tofu, fish stomach soup, and crispy duck skin and plenty of Hoisin sauce. It was truly a feast. And I was appreciative for the chance to regroup and be reminded of how special this block has been. I couldn’t have asked for better fellow LA adventurers, in food and in film.

WARNING: A little cynicism to round out our pathological optimism.

Look, I love a good dancing Channing Tatum as much as the next person. And yes, I am more likely to watch a 30 second video of that over a five minute one. I will probably pay to see Alice Through the Looking Glass in theaters because the spectacle is that much more awesome on a big screen. But when I hear someone say that her job is to ask a movie star to clog so she can post a video that gets the most views, I get squeamish. When Todd Cherniawsky (the art director I interviewed) tells me that most of the elaborate sets created for films are scrapped at the end of the day, I am uncomfortable. When Greg Foster talks about the intricate and expensive process of turning a film into an IMAX film, I am confused. And when I think about the number of people sitting in a sound mixing room for eight weeks, basically to make another unbearable car chase, I am kind of sad. (Not that sad.) I, like some of those we’ve spoken with, am disappointed in the moronic nature of humans. But, as mentioned above, I see that nature in myself. It’s human. Everyone has it. And sometimes it feels like the sole purpose of this industry is to make money off it. And to make money off of it they put an extraordinary amount of resources into it.

I have been pleasantly surprised by LA and the Hollywood business, just as I think most of my classmates have. The people we meet are excited to tell us what they do. And much to our relief, their advice about making it in the business seems grounded: work hard, build good relationships with people, do what you love. My guess is that this is good advice for any career pursuit, but it is nice to hear that about an industry that seems so inaccessible and harsh. I have had a very positive experience here. I have loved every second of it, and I think I will seriously pursue a career in film. But sometimes it is important to take a step back. What is it that matters? Why are we here? Personally, creating things is what I love, and I hope to create art that has a positive influence. But when is putting that much money, and resources, and time into entertainment justified? How far does it go before its kind of sick? I really really really hate to pull the starving children in Africa card. Things are never that black and white, ever. But I don’t think I have ever felt so figuratively far away from my time overseas as when discussing the millions of dollars that go into building a set that will just be thrown away later.

Sitting down with Dee Bradley Baker under a chandelier outside, I could not ask for a better start to my Tuesday. As we ate our delicious breakfast and listened to Mr. Baker it seemed as though every moment was filled with laughter. It was truly incredible to meet such a talented voice actor. Usually when watching a cartoon I assume each character if voiced by a different actor, even though I know that is not often the case. However to see an actor so easily switch between different sound effects and character was really incredible. Aside from Mr. Baker being tremendously entertaining he was also extremely insightful.
I believe I speak for most of the kids in this class when I say we really enjoyed hearing Mr. Baker talk about how we should all do something we love rather than something we are good at. While I have enjoyed every moment of this class, I recently got caught up in the business side of Hollywood and forgot that the whole reason I came out here was because I love to make movies. Over breakfast it was really inspiring to hear Mr. Baker talk about his path to becoming a voice actor and the advice he had to give us. All in all this morning was one of the best meals we have had together and some of the best conversation as well.

When compared with writers of film, who are notoriously separated from their projects when studios tear the script to shreds, television writers have serious power. Whether writing for a comedy or for a drama, the writers’ room is an essential part of the process of developing any television series. The writers’ room is where ideas are flung, plots are outlined, and character arcs are built. While procedurals and sitcoms tend to push the reset button at the end of each episode, every modern television series has aspects of serialization. Without a writers’ room, a season of television would have no connectivity. An event of one episode would be erased by the next episode. Characters would not develop, relationships would not be altered, and the status quo would fizzle as a boring norm for the audience.

At Baby Daddy, we witnessed the power of writers in a live multi-cam sitcom. A script arrives early in the workweek to be rehearsed.   Each day during rehearsal, suggestions from the cast, crew, and directors are passed back to the writers. Typically, writers will respond to some (but not all) of the suggestions by tweaking the scripts. Later in the week, when the show is being filmed in front of a live studio audience, cast members may ad lib jokes. The director may provide a last-minute direction. The writers, however, are the final judges of these choices by providing feedback as to what carries in the edit room (writers are often also producers of a given episode).

The frequent back-and-forth between writers and other above-the-line crew is unusual on other types of television. Single camera shows tend toward a much more rigid production structure. On Chicago PD, a procedural drama, the writers meet at the beginning of the season and rarely afterwards. The scripts are divided among primary writers. From the moment a script is assigned to a specific writer, the script is their baby. Writers have to respond to the executives—with the idea, the draft, the final draft—but are given freedom to work within constrains of network standards. During production, a script is nearly solidified but the writer is on-set to respond to changes. Procedural dramas have less collaboration between writers and fewer script changes during production, but the writers still maintain a high degree of creative input.

You’ve heard it before but I’ll repeat it again: Film is a director’s medium. Television is a writer’s medium. Where would you rather be?  Elle and I certainly know.

Today, we had the honor of meeting the west coast editor of Vanity Fair, Krista Smith. She was extremely personable, intelligent and very transparent with us about the obstacles she believes we will face as millennials entering the workforce.

She talked about the common perception of millennials as entitled, whiny and lazy, and how we can counteract that perception by minding our manners, showing gratitude and working hard. Of course, this reminder to treat people with respect was simply a reiteration of what we’re always hearing from our gracious professors, Dylan and Clay. Looking around my room of peers, I saw no one who fit the millennial stereotype, a humbling reminder that my friends in Film and Media Studies at CC are and will continue to be some of my greatest role models.

Krista also talked about the media we consume, asking us about the weight of “click bait” versus long-form journalism. Our generation’s reputation tells us we’re obsessed with instant gratification, unwilling to consume media that will require any sustained thought. We are uninformed, mindlessly scrolling through the countless headlines that comprise our news feeds. To an extent, this is true; I do find myself mindlessly scrolling through my news feed sometimes, in an effort to sift out what is worth versus not worth spending time on. And yet, I don’t quite buy that we want instant gratification. I don’t want to read three sentences summarizing the world’s news and call it good.

What we actually want, I believe, is connection. We want to feel connected to the people in our lives, informed about what the people around us know, and invested in current events. I believe we actually would like to read articles and watch videos that explore issues in depth. In fact, I believe that the reason we click so quickly from story to story is because we want to stay informed. It’s nearly impossible to know what’s worth reading, when choosing–not between the day’s newspaper headlines–but between the hundreds upon hundreds of articles released each day on (probably at least) four social media channels! Why the appeal of click bait then? Why are we willing to spend the full 3 minutes and 52 seconds watching some bad lip reading mocking the presidential campaign rather than reading about the presidential campaign? We watch videos with millions of views because we want to understand the cultural references being made by the people around us. It’s as simple as that.

I’m a sucker for old-school journalism, and our meeting with Krista Smith reminded me of how much I love the art form of weaving a great interview into a great story. In print. On a page. As our forms of communication evolve, as visual media continues to rise and take precedent in our clicks, I retain confidence that written words will remain. What people in Hollywood, young and old, have in common, is a love for good stories. Now, with a  plethora of accessible resources through which to communicate our stories, the battle is not between old and new, but between this and those-other-five-hundred-things-I-could-be-reading. If a good story belongs in print, I believe its value is as high as it ever was, if not higher. The challenge faced by a naive millennial entering the workforce as a story-teller, then, is to figure out how to distinguish a good story from the rest.

In other news, check out highlights from tonight’s Conan O’Brien. We were lucky enough to be in the audience. See if you can spot special appearances from Georgia and Caitlin!

In Hollywood, the only thing that’s free is advice. I have received more life advice on this trip than I have at my entire time at Colorado College.  What turns out to be costly is time. A lot of people we have had the pleasure of meeting are extremely busy, and the biggest sacrifice they make for us is their time. As students trying to understand the world of Hollywood, we are given a special kind of access in a space where donated time meets good advice. Because many of the people we are meeting are alumni of Colorado College, we also have the advantage of an established trust and understanding. You know you are in a unique position when you can bond with an agent about living in the same hall in Slocum or share the story of your favorite block break with a TV producer you just met. We all share a common love for CC that transcends age and success.

Last week our clan of 10 was fortunate enough to find ourselves in a room full of time, advice and CC pride. This past Thursday, we stepped out of the van clad in our dress-to-impress best. We walked through the elegant doorway of the Paley Center for Media, grabbed an official name tag and entered a party full of Colorado College Alumni, all of whom are currently working and living in Hollywood. The crowd ranged from the most successful CC alums to former students who had taken “On Location: Hollywood” and decided to try out Los Angeles for themselves. The keynote speaker was Neal Baer (MD), a pediatrician and TV writer with an impressive and eclectic resume that floored me.  Again we were given a unique access to advice, and as Baer spoke about the way his interest in writing and interest in medicine grew and evolved, I thought about the emerging themes in the advice we had been given over the past few weeks.

What I realized is that the best advice we received was vulnerable. The advice that stuck with me most came from people who didn’t shy away from doubt or failure, but in fact embraced those moments as valuable learning experiences. I also was struck with how many people pressed the point “pursue what makes you happy.”  This advice may seem obvious, but I think it is something that is easy to forget in the environment of Los Angeles.

Lastly, I found that good advice sometimes comes in the form of a story. At its best, Los Angeles is a land of storytellers. The storytellers we have encountered shared with us their assorted paths from their time as a Colorado College student all the way to where they are now. We heard stories of cars breaking down, auditions and projects bombed, and embarrassing and hilarious side jobs. No speed bumps and uncertainties were omitted, and no false narrative of consecutive success was painted. There is no one right way to get into doing what you love. There is no one right way to be successful. There is no way to know what kind of person you’ll end up being. And after hearing all this advice, these truths are far less scary than they used to seem.  I am more inclined to trust the process.

Today in our meeting with prolific voice actor Dee Bradley Baker, he shared his own story about being a fresh CC graduate, and finished it all by saying “you don’t know who you are yet.” Even CC alums who had only been in Los Angeles a few years were clear on this point — you cannot anticipate how things will turn out even a year from now, but what you can do is pursue what makes you happy. Below I share with you a photo of a group of young people, dressed to impress, who don’t know who they are yet. And not only is that okay, it’s pretty damn exciting.

Late last night, four of my classmates and I returned to LA after spending the weekend at Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin for the first ACM Film Festival. The weekend was full of student films and cold weather. While the trip was enjoyable, it was busy and it was cold. I am from Colorado, so the cold doesn’t bother me, but for some reason, Wisconsin didn’t feel right. Upon returning late last night we were glad to return to the warmth of LA. Getting back into the van we are often stuck in for long rides in traffic, it felt comforting and normal. The same was true when I entered the apartment we are staying at for the block. It is strange to me that I found myself returning to a place that I have always thought I wanted to avoid – Los Angeles. Before this class I never thought I could spend this much time in LA and be happy about it. Returning last night made me realize that for the moment, LA is my “home” base, full of exciting adventures and great company.

Tonight a few of us went downtown for dinner and attempted to watch a movie at the RedCat theater by the Disney Concert Hall. We wandered around the downtown area for a bit searching for food. While walking we came across this area that was more pristine and had carefully designed spaces. The walk was lovely and we passed the bench from (500) Days of Summer that is currently inaccessible due to the fence around the park it is in. I always feel that it is important to walk around a new place in order to get to know it. Even though LA is large and we did not walk around that much, I feel like I have a better sense of the downtown area.

Also, through wandering we discovered some interesting spaces. After discovering the Central Market was closed (and that many other restaurants happened to be closed on Mondays) we settled down in a restaurant with great a view. We sat outside and looking up would see tall, looming buildings. There was one in particular that looked like a flat panel standing straight up, ready to fall over with too much wind.

Unfortunately, the movie was sold out so we did not get the chance to see it. Regardless, the evening was enjoyable. I appreciate how throughout this class I have been slowly discovering treasures within the city. While LA is not home and I am still not sure I want it to be, for now it was been a gracious host sharing its wonders with us. For now I am content being here and am glad to be back from Wisconsin. A little warmth never hurt anybody.