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Stories Have a Ring Structure because they Show How to Solve Problems
The emotional arcs of stories are dominated by six basic shapes, Reagan, Mitchell, Kiley, Danforth, and Dodds
Storytelling 
19 hours ago by citadelgrad
Cassandra Khaw: "Narrative is frightening and staggeringly powerful, and those who control the narrative control what the world sees." | Mithila Review
Meta is fun. On some level, my fascination with the fourth wall is nothing but pure play. I love those instances when I find them so I’m going to work them into my fiction.

On a more esoteric level, I’ve always believed that stories are alive. Stories whisper and hiss, seethe and grow, change as the world’s interpretation of them alter. Why not narratives that reflect that?
story  fiction  storytelling  sciencefiction  writing  narrative  interviews 
yesterday by allaboutgeorge
Artificial Intelligence and next generation storytelling | The Space
Artificial Intelligence is increasingly part of our everyday lives, but what role could it play in creative expression, arts and culture? The Space brought practitioners, experts, and audiences together to explore how Artificial Intelligence can be a tool for us all. via Pocket
ai  creative  ethics  narrative  storytelling  text  writing 
3 days ago by kintopp
Sharing new perspectives – Your 3D view on Europeana
The “Sharing new perspectives” project will contribute to increasing access to digital resources of European heritage in response to the Connecting Europe Facility’s deployment of the Europeana digital service infrastructure to encourage cross-border use and use of cultural heritage digital resources. The “Sharing new perspectives” project responds to the Council Conclusions which recall the importance of online access to cultural heritage “to enable access for all to culture and knowledge, promote richness and diversity of European cultural heritage and contribute to the achievement of the digital single market through the increasing offer of new and innovative products and services” and the challenge “to better reach and engage end-users, content shared through Europeana needs to be presented in attractive and diverse ways”.
3d  storytelling  Europeana 
3 days ago by stacker
Digital Content, Storytelling and Journalism: A Genuine Museum Experience – MW19 | Boston
What does it mean to explore a museum digitally? How can digital content do the work of the museum itself? When does online digital content become a genuine museum experience? This paper looks at how both science and art museums use digital channels to engage substantial non-visiting audiences with digital media. Using Wellcome Collection, the free museum and library for the incurably curious as a case study, we will look at how digital transformation and a product-centred approach to the website allowed us to build a content team that works alongside other product teams to challenge people’s ideas about health and make connections between art and science. We ask what the experience of journalism brings to museum content and the role of social media in amplifying narrative content, creating dialogue with visitors and increasing our understanding of audiences. We’ll talk about the challenges we’ve faced in this approach and include the experiences of other digital content people, who have experimented with this approach in museums . Digital content can address a diversity strategy through bringing new voices in to speak through the museum. We will share insights about our analytics, audiences and how we measure the impact of our work and its value to the organisation. Finally, we ask what difference it could make to museums to commit to a strategy of using online digital content to reach audiences well beyond their visitor base, to participate in public debate, and to add to the overall public engagement with art, science and cultural heritage.
mw2019  wellcome  storytelling  collection 
4 days ago by stacker
Inglourious Basterds part 1 : Todd Alcott
Landa slowly backs LaPadite into a corner with his equating of Jews with rats.  He’s a salesman, in a way, and the thing he’s selling is "the revealing of the Dreyfusses."  A salesman will tell you, you start off asking questions that can only be answered as "yes" until you finally get your mark into a corner, and they’re so used to saying "yes" that by the time you spring your trap they’re afraid to say "no."  May I come in?  Of course.  May I have a glass of milk?  Why not.  May I compliment your daughters, speak English with you, ask you a few harmless questions, smoke a pipe with you?  Yes, yes and yes.  Do you hate rats?  Well, yes, I suppose.  Aren’t Jews a lot like rats?

The dehumanizing of The Other is an important tactic in war, and, not coincidentally, in drama.  A dramatist routinely places audience identification with one character or another, the result being we want one character to succeed over another.  In an excellent drama, everyone is right, everyone has their reasons, and everyone acts intelligently and resourcefully.  It is the conflicting agendas of the principals that gives rise to drama.  But there are very few WWII movies — very few war movies in general — hell, very few movies in general — that bother to create excellent drama.  Rather, characters are labeled "good" or "bad" so that the audience knows who to "root for."  Basterds stretches this tendency to ridiculous extremes, ending up as an examination and critique of cinematic art.

LaPadite is,  of course, torn.  He wants to protect the Dreyfusses, but he wants to protect his daughters, and himself, more.  What Landa finally sells LaPadite is his life.  He’s aware, he says, of what humans are capable of when they no longer have dignity.  Well, he should — he spends fifteen minutes stripping away LaPadite’s.
film  movies  storytelling 
5 days ago by cmananian
Taika Waititi on Oscars, ‘Jojo Rabbit,’ ‘Thor’ & ‘Star Wars’ Rumors – Variety
My earlier films were about dads. I’m moving into my mum phase now. What I love about families is that no matter where you’re from, everyone has got the same dynamic. You’ve got heroes; you have villains. You’ve got those two grumpy dudes from the Muppets — the uncles and the aunties who know everything and bitch and whine. You’ve got the Greek chorus. You’ve got every dynamic and every stereotype in families. That’s why I keep going back to them. It’s an endless source of entertainment for me. My family is so f—ing hilarious. And I’m always stealing their stories and putting them in movies.
oscars  movies  story  storytelling  cinema  film  family  families  fiction  starwars  comics 
6 days ago by allaboutgeorge
On what it's like to discover superhero fiction in your thirties, as a Brit - Wild Cards
Operating like an American superhero in anything resembling the modern British Isles makes you a supervillain by default. This doesn’t mean that superhero fic is impossible: it just requires some lateral thinking.
writing  fiction  comics  creativity  uk  usa  storytelling 
6 days ago by allaboutgeorge
Hayao Miyazaki’s Cursed Worlds
“I brought a friend with me the first time I saw Princess Mononoke in an American movie theater. He had no experience with Miyazaki or with Japanese culture or animation, but he was intrigued to see what promised to be a grand adventure story, especially one that was appearing in the United States under the auspices of Disney. In the middle of watching the movie, however, he started nudging me. “Who’s the good guy?” he hissed irritably. “I can’t tell which is the good guy and which is the bad guy!” “That’s the whole point!” I whispered back.

Princess Mononoke inaugurated a new chapter in Miyazakiworld. Ambitious and angry, it expressed the director’s increasingly complex worldview, putting on film the tight intermixture of frustration, brutality, animistic spirituality, and cautious hope that he had honed in his manga Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind. The film offers a mythic scope, unprecedented depictions of violence and environmental collapse, and a powerful vision of the sublime, all within the director’s first-ever attempt at a jidaigeki, or historical film. It also moves further away from the family fare that had made him a treasured household name in Japan.

In the complicated universe of Princess Mononoke, there is no longer room for villains such as Future Boy Conan’s power-hungry Repka, the greedy Count of The Castle of Cagliostro, or the evil Muska of Laputa: Castle in the Sky. Miyazaki instead gives his audiences the ambitious but generous Lady Eboshi and the enigmatic monk Jiko-bō, who insists that we live in a cursed world. Jiko-bō isn’t the only one who thinks this, apparently. In the darkest moments of his tale of humans battling the “wild gods” of the natural world in fourteenth-century Japan, Miyazaki seems to be saying that all the dwellers of this realm, human and nonhuman, are equally cursed. Princess Mononoke raises questions Miyazaki had implicitly asked in the Nausicaä manga: Given what humanity has done to the planet, do we have a right to keep on waging war against the nonhuman other? Is there any way that humans and nonhumans can coexist?

These questions struck a deep chord in Japanese audiences, and the movie opened a new chapter in Miyazaki’s influence on Japanese society. Princess Mononoke became not simply a hit but a cultural phenomenon. The Japanese media celebrated the more than two thousand eager fans who lined up for the movie’s first screening in Tokyo, then vociferously commemorated the moment when the film surpassed the country’s previous highest earning movie, Steven Spielberg’s E. T. Magazine articles and even special issues on the film flooded Japan, tackling everything from the movie’s reworking of traditional history and its varied and impressive group of voice actors to its innovative animation techniques, including Studio Ghibli’s first use of computers and digital painting.

Miyazaki was interviewed on subjects ranging from environmental degradation to his judgment on whether children should see such a violent movie (on which he reversed himself, initially saying that they should not see it and then insisting that children would make the best audience). His fame among anime fans had been building for many years, and the success of his 1989 film, Kiki’s Delivery Service, opened up a still wider audience, but it is with Princess Mononoke that Miyazaki became a celebrity of sorts. This does not mean that he built a flashy house and started dating supermodels. He remained in the unpretentious Tokyo suburb of Tokorozawa and continued to welcome friends and staff members to the rustic cabin his father-in-law had built in the mountains of Nagano prefecture. In an interview after Princess Mononoke’s release, he spoke longingly of a desire “just to go away and live in a cabin in the mountains.”

This desire for retreat was understandable. As numerous articles and a six-hour documentary on the making of the film make clear, Princess Mononoke was the most stress-inducing film the director had created. Notably longer and far more expensive than any previous Studio Ghibli film, the work required almost superhuman efforts on the part of Miyazaki and his increasingly weary staff. Given Miyazaki’s obsessive attention to detail, the film’s epic scope, historical setting, and wide cast of characters made the preparation period alone intensely time-consuming, to say nothing of the time that the actual production took. Exhausted by the experience, some of the veterans who had worked on Princess Mononoke left the company when the film was finished to be replaced by new animators.

Toshio Suzuki, who produced Princess Mononoke, recalls a moment when Miyazaki finally “exploded” after being asked to do too many things in too short a time. The director was “correcting the storyboards, checking the originals, aligning the music to the story, and presiding over the ‘after recordings’ ”—vocals added after the initial animation is complete. He was also giving interviews on television and to newspapers and magazines, all while being involved with the marketing and with introducing the film to audiences as it was rolled out over Japan. As Suzuki puts it, Miyazaki had “given his body and soul” to the movie and was beyond exhaustion. Suzuki remembers being with the director the night before the movie’s premiere in the provincial city of Kochi. Miyazaki lay in bed and with a felt pen drew a sketch of his own face. Handing the paper to Suzuki, he said curtly, “Here, you put this on and go out and pretend to be me at the movie tomorrow.” Princess Mononoke’s aftermath would mark the beginning of the director’s retreat from extensive public-relations responsibilities.

The all-out marketing campaign that surrounded the movie marked a first: the studio marketed it as a Ghibli film rather than a Miyazaki film. This change was more than symbolic, attesting to the ascendance of Suzuki as Ghibli’s main producer in the widening realm of Miyazakiworld. Involved with Miyazaki and Isao Takahata since his days as an editor at Animage, he was widely credited with successfully marketing Kiki’s Delivery Service. But Princess Mononoke’s record-breaking box-office performance was deemed Suzuki’s most spectacular success to date, launching him firmly into a highly visible position in the animation industry. Viewed as the pragmatist who enables Miyazaki to express his idealistic vision, Suzuki became an increasingly dominant force at Ghibli. Indeed, the documentary on the making of Princess Mononoke sometimes appears to be allotting almost as much face time to the producer as to the man who actually directed the film.

New faces were also coming in from overseas. In 1997, Ghibli’s parent company, Tokuma Shoten, announced a deal with Disney to distribute its products worldwide. Suzuki had arranged the agreement, and it was a huge achievement for him and for Ghibli. The deal expanded Ghibli’s influence globally in one stroke and achieved an enormous public-relations coup at home. More than a thousand reporters attended the press conference announcing the deal. As Suzuki disarmingly explained, “The announcement that [Princess Mononoke] would be opening across America was important only in that it helped us capture market share at home.”

In fact, Princess Mononoke, despite an elegant English-language script written by the fantasy writer Neil Gaiman, and an impressive roster of American and English voice actors, did not perform particularly well in the United States. While the film critic Janet Maslin of the New York Times praised the film’s “exotically beautiful action” and Miyazaki’s construction of “an elaborate moral universe,” she also felt compelled to mention its occasionally “knotty” plot and sometimes “gruesome” imagery. A Japanese journalist wondered later, “How could [Americans who were] used to stories about good versus evil, full of musical numbers and comical sidekicks, and always with a happy ending, be expected to appreciate the appeal of Studio Ghibli’s offerings?”

Miyazaki’s feelings about the new arrangement with Disney are cloudy. Beyond a rather vague speech at the press conference, I can find no public pronouncement by him on the subject. Over the years, neither he nor Suzuki had had much good to say about Disney, so it seems likely that the arrangement was a purely practical one for the benefit of both parties. But Miyazaki and Suzuki could at least be satisfied that they had broken new ground for quality Japanese animation. Furthermore, the Oscar later awarded to Miyazaki’s 2001 film, Spirited Away, would show that American audiences could indeed appreciate something beyond “happily ever after.”

Although groundbreaking in many ways, Princess Mononoke did not come out of nowhere. By the early nineties, Miyazaki had completed his first adult-oriented feature film, Porco Rosso, and was finally finishing the Nausicaä manga. Always searching for new inspirations, he became intrigued by the idea of doing something with the Hōjōki, a classic work from the thirteenth century. A brief, beautifully written reflection on the world and the transience of life, the Hōjōki is still part of the curriculum in most Japanese schools.

The Hōjōki is not an obvious candidate for a movie, animated or otherwise. Written by Kamo no Chōmei, a former courtier who had grown disillusioned by the ways of the world and became a Buddhist monk, the work appeared in 1223, at a time when military takeovers, famine, pestilence, and natural disasters such as earthquakes and floods rocked the capital and claimed thousands of lives. The Hōjōki chronicles these disasters from a safe distance, through the viewpoint of a thoughtful, poetic man who sees in the apocalyptic events around him a reason for retreat and reflection.

Miyazaki’s interest in the Hōjōki was stimulated by a book called Hōjōkiden, by a favorite novelist of his, Yoshie Hotta. But beyond such influences, … [more]
hayaomiyazaki  2018  susannapier  princessmononoke  film  animation  worldbuilding  akirakurosawa  filmmaking  japan  hōjōki  emptiness  yoshiehotta  porcorosso  nausicaä  kamonochōmei  spiritedaway  storytelling  studioghibli  manga  castleinthesky  futureboyconan  war  multispecies  morethanhuman  mythology  environment  environmentalism  interconnected  interconnectedness  interdependence  industrialization  landscape 
8 days ago by robertogreco

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