Arcaneya

Tag: 2006

  • Click (2006): Polishing The Story With a Couple of Improvements

    The 2006 film Click, starring Adam Sandler, presented audiences with a truly thought-provoking and high-concept premise: what if you had a universal remote control that could literally manipulate your life? This ingenious idea immediately resonates, tapping into our universal desire to skip the mundane, fast-forward through the unpleasant, and perhaps even rewind a mistake or two. It’s a fantasy that makes you ponder the very nature of time, productivity, and the precious moments that constitute a life. The film masterfully sets up this alluring temptation, drawing viewers into Michael Newman’s initial glee as he zips through traffic, avoids arguments, and powers up his career.

    However, as Michael’s reliance on the remote spirals out of control, the film’s second half, while essential to its cautionary tale, shifts into a more frantic and at times “all over the place” pace. The rapid-fire progression of years, marked by automatic fast-forwards through significant life events, certainly delivers a stark message about lost time. Yet, this hectic acceleration, while serving its purpose, could arguably benefit from a couple of key adjustments to deepen its emotional impact and more fully realize Michael’s profound transformation.

    One such missed opportunity lies in the potential for a more public and devastating moment of reckoning for Michael. The film allows Michael a private, deathbed plea to his son, which is impactful. However, consider the profound dramatic weight of a scene where Michael, perhaps at his grown son’s wedding, breaks down during what should be a celebratory speech. Overwhelmed by the crushing realization of decades lost to the remote’s insidious influence, he could, with raw desperation, confess to the assembled guests his fantastical truth – that he has literally fast-forwarded through the very fabric of his family’s life. This moment of public vulnerability, a stark contrast to the private torment he has endured, would create an extraordinary layer of dramatic irony. The wedding attendees, unaware of his literal magical experience, would undoubtedly interpret his fragmented tale of a “remote” and a “skipped life” as a tragic, stress-induced parable from a father who worked too much. This misinterpretation would not only heighten Michael’s isolated agony but also subtly reinforce the ambiguity of the remote’s reality, leaving the audience to question if his journey was a true supernatural event or a vivid, life-altering psychological projection. The scene would serve as a public catharsis for Michael, a desperate, misunderstood cry for help that underscores the irreversible nature of his losses before his ultimate simulated collapse.

    Furthermore, the film’s conclusion, while offering a second chance and a tearful reunion, could have been immeasurably strengthened by a tangible, symbolic act that demonstrates Michael’s profound transformation. The simple act of embracing his family, while sweet, leaves the audience to infer his changed priorities. A more powerful and lasting image would involve Michael actively choosing to engage with a previously undesirable, mundane moment – the very type of moment he once eagerly fast-forwarded through. Imagine him, back in the present day, perhaps taking his dog for a leisurely walk. This seemingly insignificant activity, once a tedious chore to be bypassed, now becomes an opportunity for presence. We would see him not glancing at his watch, not distracted by thoughts of work, but genuinely enjoying the simple rhythm of the stroll, perhaps even stopping to observe his dog’s curious sniffing with a newfound appreciation for the small, quiet details of life. This deliberate act of cherishing the ordinary, of finding contentment in the un-skipped moment, would serve as a powerful full-circle narrative.

    These additions would significantly enhance the storytelling. The public confession would heighten the dramatic irony and deepen Michael’s suffering, allowing his internal torment to spill out into a profoundly impactful scene. The subtle act of cherishing a mundane moment, like walking his dog, would then serve as a powerful and direct visual testament to his transformation. It would show, rather than just tell, that Michael has not only learned his lesson but is actively living it, demonstrating a complete shift from wanting to control time to simply wanting to experience it, in all its messy, beautiful, and sometimes boring reality.

    Thank you!

    Ira

  • Eragon (2006): How a Promising Fantasy Fumbled Its Flight (And How We’d Fix It)

    In 2006, the cinematic adaptation of Christopher Paolini’s bestselling novel Eragon arrived with considerable anticipation. Billed as the next big fantasy epic, it starred Ed Speleers as the titular farm boy and promised dragons, magic, and a sweeping adventure. Yet, despite a substantial budget and a beloved source material, the film largely failed to resonate with critics and fans alike. Its shortcomings weren’t just minor missteps; they stemmed from fundamental storytelling “sins” that left the narrative feeling rushed, unearned, and ultimately, flat.

    The Shortcomings of the Original Film

    Eragon suffered from a script that seemed to check boxes rather than craft a compelling story. Its most glaring issues included:

    • Excessive Telling, Not Showing: The movie opened with heavy exposition, dumping lore on the audience instead of allowing them to discover the world organically. Character development was often stated, not demonstrated.
    • A Passive, Unearned Protagonist: Eragon himself felt like a spectator in his own story. His “specialness” was handed to him, not earned through struggle or active choices. His primary motivation, seeking revenge for his uncle, felt too narrow and naive for an epic of this scale.
    • The “Too Perfect” Dragon: Saphira, the majestic dragon, grew to full size in minutes and was immediately wise, benevolent, and perfectly behaved. This instant perfection robbed the audience of the wonder of her growth, the tension of her power, and the opportunity to witness a truly earned bond with Eragon.
    • Convenient Magic & Plot Devices: Magic in the film often felt like a quick fix, appearing without clear rules or significant cost to the caster. Plot points, like Eragon’s “dream motivation” to save Arya, felt unearned and robbed the narrative of genuine tension and character agency.
    • Undefined Antagonist Motivation: The relentless pursuit of Eragon by the king’s forces, particularly the Ra’zac, lacked clear strategic reasoning from Galbatorix’s perspective, making them feel like generic monsters rather than agents of a terrifying tyranny.

    A Different Outline: Straightening the Story

    To truly make Eragon soar, we need to strip away the unpolished shortcuts and focus on building a character-driven narrative grounded in earned struggle and clear motivations.

    A New Beginning: Desire, Humiliation, and the Unknown

    First, let’s lose that opening exposition and narrative. A fantasy world’s wonder is best left to the audience’s imagination and discovery.

    Instead, open the film with Eragon hunting, failing miserably. This immediately grounds him as a relatable, ordinary farm boy, highlighting his current limitations and setting up an almost absurd contrast with any grand aspirations. It’s during this humble, perhaps humiliating, outing that he finds the mysterious egg and hides it in his hut.

    Later, show the village gathering around a campfire or in a communal space. Brom, the enigmatic storyteller, joins them. When the debate touches on dragons, Brom begins to answer questions, but his responses are mystery-filled and unbelievable, hinting at ancient lore but offering no clear answers.

    At this opportune moment, a naive Eragon steps forward and boldly declares, “I want to be a Dragon Rider!” The village erupts in laughter. Brom, perhaps with a smirk, might make fun of him, pointing out his current lack of skill or the sheer impossibility of such a dream. This immediate humiliation provides a powerful, active initial motivation for Eragon – not just revenge, but a burning desire to prove himself and achieve this seemingly impossible dream.

    Brom then offers a crucial piece of lore, explaining, “Even if you would have what it takes, it’s not up to you. The dragon chooses its Rider.” This statement establishes a core rule of the world, adds a touch of magic, and creates a delicious irony for the audience who knows what’s coming. This initial, deeply personal motivation—Eragon’s active desire to be a Rider despite mockery—would linger throughout the entire movie, giving it a totally different vibe. Only then would we transition into the dragon hatching.

    Saphira: The Litmus Test of Courage

    Once hatched, Saphira should not be all positive and wise from the beginning. Instead, she should be as a dragon ought to be: aggressive, wild, and unpredictable. Her immense power would be terrifying, her instincts raw, and her bond with Eragon a constant, perilous negotiation.

    This unpredictable Saphira would become the mirror (the ultimate litmus test) for Eragon’s development. His growth from fear towards courage wouldn’t just be internal; it would be shown through his arduous, often frustrating, attempts to understand, calm, and guide his formidable companion. Every small victory in gaining her trust would be hard-earned, making their eventual, deep bond genuinely meaningful.

    This changed dynamic would radically impact key scenes. Consider the Varden entrance. In the original movie, the Varden’s ultimatum for Eragon to call Saphira in and she better behave, lest they both be “toast,” lacked any tension because Saphira was perfectly behaved. But imagine the difference: an unpredictable, potentially destructive dragon glides into the Varden’s hidden city, the air crackling with fear and uncertainty. The tension would be palpable. Saphira’s eventual, deliberate good behavior would then be a monumental triumph—a direct result of Eragon’s hard-won growth, his calm nerves, and his ability to project that control through their developing bond. It transforms a plot point into a powerful display of earned character development.

    An Earned Quest: Saving Arya

    The original movie’s “stupid dream motivation” for Eragon to save Arya was a convenient shortcut. Instead, after Brom discovers Saphira and connects the dots to Arya (the elf carrying the egg), their understanding of the king’s vast reach and Arya’s perilous mission would grow. Brom could reveal Arya’s strategic importance to the Varden, and the urgency of her situation. Their motivation to find her wouldn’t be a vague dream, but a calculated decision rooted in a burgeoning sense of responsibility to the larger cause, and perhaps even an intuitive empathetic link developing between Saphira and Eragon as they sense Arya’s plight.

    Magic: Rare, Costly, and Powerful

    The use of magic in the original film was often inconsistent and served as a convenient plot shortcut. If the story is already aiming for the grand scale of Lord of the Rings and with the introdution of dragons hints at Game of Thrones, there’s no need to also inject the magic of Harry Potter.

    Instead, magic should be rare, difficult, and primarily wielded by ancient, powerful beings like the elves (with their millennia of practice) and the corrupted Shades (whose power comes at a terrible cost). Eragon’s own magical abilities would be nascent, incredibly taxing to use, and earned through immense effort and understanding of the Ancient Language. This would force him to rely on his wits, swordsmanship, and ofcourse, Saphira.

    The Liftoff: A New Title for a New Vision

    These changes would be enough for the rest of the story to fall into place, creating a far more cohesive and engaging narrative. And to truly reflect this new vision, the title needs a change. Naming a sweeping epic solely after one character’s “ego” feels too vague and lacks intriguing hooks.

    A more fitting title might be “Eragon: The Liftoff.” This title captures the sense of a new beginning, a momentous launch into a terrifying but hopeful future, and the visual majesty of a dragon taking flight for the first time. It promises adventure, but also the potential for monumental shifts, hinting at the start of a journey that will forever change the world.

    This revised outline, with its focus on earned development, nuanced relationships, and the true weight of power and responsibility, would in my opinion transform Eragon from a cinematic misstep into a truly soaring fantasy epic.

    Thank you,

    Ira