Matt Ingwalson
I do a lot of stuff. I guess you'd say I'm a doing-stuff addict. I write screenplays, play music, and compete at any number of sports. By day and night, I'm a creative director at Karsh Hagan.
Blog- Resume
- Status
- Video
-
Posts
- Apr 23, 12Gotye's "Somebody That I used To Know" unfolds not as song, but as story. It has three acts, with character introductions, climaxes and grieving along the way.
Don't bore us, get to the chorus? Pft. Gotye spends the first 1:30 of the 4:04 song in murmur mode. He's developing a character, a man relieved that an impossible relationship has finally ended.
Conflict is introduced at the beginning of the second act in the form of the chorus. Deep inside, our protagonist is confused and angry about just how completely his girlfriend separated herself. "But you didn't have to cut me off / Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing."
The third act begins at 2:33 with the introduction of the female lead. She has her own desperations and regrets. She feels her ex demanded a complete separation, that he told her it was the only way he could go on with his life. And at the climax at 3:02, his cries spill down over hers like a mountain waterfall that will not be pushed aside by the wind.
The dénouement starts at 3:47, the boiling subdued by haunting, inevitability and loss. Unlike classic dénouement, the protagonist isn't any better or worse off than at the start of the narrative. The story concludes with the same indie hopelessness that you'll find in movies like Winter's Bone. The characters have cried without finding a shoulder, opened their hearts and found nothing waiting.
[Ed. - I don't really like the video for "Somebody That I Used to Know," but you can watch it here. And I doubt "desperations" is a word. But it seemed so perfect, defining for me that feeling that you get when you have fucked up absolutely everything, and you don't know how to make any of it better.] - Apr 19, 12
The problem with effort is that as you progress towards the top levels of any given skill set, you have to work exponentially harder to see incremental improvements.
Imagine a novice guitar player. It takes him a month or two to learn a few open chords and soon he is strumming his way through a selection of campfire classics. This is enough for many people to label him a "guitarist." The next level of musicianship requires him to learn moveable chords, pentatonic scales, and a few hammer-ons well enough to work them seamlessly into songs. This requires a bit more effort. But within a year or so, 90% of people will nod their heads and say, "Hey, you're pretty good at guitar." To get to the next level, he has to learn some theory, to study major and minor scales and their relationship to chords, to spend hours with a metronome, and to integrate this knowledge so fully it becomes instinctual. It may take years. Yet to the untrained ear, it doesn't sound terribly different from what our imaginary guitarist was playing before. He soldiers on and spends a decade mastering sweep picking, tapping, and palm muting. But he finds these techniques are only usable for a few seconds of any given song, and most listeners don't recognize them anyway, lumping them all into the category of "Playing Guitar Real Fast." A virtuoso - Vai, Gilbert, Buckethead, Bumblefoot - has invested tens of thousands of hours developing skills so refined that only a tiny fraction of human beings can possibly appreciate them.
In P. H. Mullen Jr.'s Gold in the Water, swimmer Sergey Mariniuk is puzzled by the same phenomenon. He finds he only needs four hours of training every week to achieve speeds that guarantee him a slot on his country's Olympic team, but he'd need upwards of 20 hours of weekly training to knock another three seconds off his time. A 500% increase in effort to achieve an almost immeasurable increase in speed. He decides the added struggle is not worth it. After all, what's the difference between seventh and sixth place?
It's not that effort is bad. It's that it is most efficiently applied to learning new skills, not refining existing ones. This is the exact opposite of the way most of us lead our lives. We jump and sweat, trying to reach the next plateau, never realizing that amazing things are easily within our grasp if we're willing to walk in an entirely new direction.
[Ed. - I am not sure I agree with my own post here. But it is an idea that has been rattling around in my head for awhile and I enjoyed writing it. I think that I think that excellence has some intrinsic value. And while effort may not be efficient, it is still worthwhile.] - Apr 09, 12
Just one of the pieces of film from our 2012 summer campaign for Colorado. See stories about the work in The Denver Post, Westword, 9 News, Channel 7, and The Denver Egotist. And for the full story of the production, check out the Karsh Hagan blog. - Mar 21, 12
I have heard some iteration of this sentiment from three agency leaders in the past year:
I have been trying to find the right interactive director for my agency. I keep hiring these brilliant, inspirational thought leaders and they always flop. Great speakers, but they just can't get projects done. The next hire I make, I am am going to ask to see applicants' code. And if they can't show me actual code they have written, I am showing them the door.
This makes sense to me. After all, I have never met a creative director who didn't start his career in the trenches, creating work as a copywriter or art director. Why should any director-level position be different?
But then again, maybe it doesn't make sense at all. Not all great workers are suited to be managers. (I know genius creatives with stellar portfolios who never became creative directors.) And not every great manager was a screaming success as a worker. (For instance, John Fox never played a down in the NFL.)
I don't have an answer. I'm not even sure I am asking a question. It's just what's rolling around in my head. Who wants to buy me CD: Y0? - Mar 15, 12
My brain did something really disturbing last night. Something I wouldn't have thought possible. Something so flabergasting to me that I am blogging it now in the hopes someone might understand how the brain can work in this marvelous but terrifying way.
The first thing you should know is that I sometimes dream entire original movies. These movies are often long, graphic, densely plotted horror movies. I wake up feeling like I watched a very sick, very scary piece of underground cinema.
Last night I had one of these dreams. And I noticed some elements early on in my dream-film that seemed out of place. A misplaced seam on a jacket, for instance. At the end of the movie, there was a huge twist. (He was the killer all along! Here's how he killed his victims! Here's why!) The end of my dream-film explained the misplaced seam and other elements from early in the dream.
Think about that for a second. Some part of my brain composed the entire script of a dream in advance, including seeding it with clues and foreshadowing. That means my composer-brain must have known how the dream would end all along. Then, somehow, my composer-brain was able to keep all these elements secret from my audience-brain so that it could be surprised (and disgusted) by the big twist.
I only have one brain, don't I? Don't I? - Jan 09, 12
I was always a little odded-out when people told me they liked the old karsh.com. It was missing most of the work we've done in the past two years. And it provided only a snapshot of the 60-something people that make our agency what it is.
On Friday we launched the new karshhagan.com. Besides a much broader array of work, it has a spiderweb navigation system that lets you browse the site by exploring our connections to campaigns, clients and each other. Check it out. Rachael has a more in-depth look at the site on the Karsh Hagan blog. - Dec 08, 11
For the three people that read my blog and not The Denver Egotist, here is "What I Learned This Year 2011 #3: Matt Ingwalson" in its entirety:
In January, I learned that energy is 99% of my job.
In February, I learned that if a business wants to be indecisive, it better also be rich.
In March, I learned that scrappy wins. That you can shoot great TV for less than you think. And that you should couple the print and video shoots if you can. Twice this year, I found my way into situations where a film director also happened to be an amazing photographer. Both times, magic occurred.
In April, I learned that 50 people can jump around hugging each other without it ever getting awkward.
In May, I learned how hard it is to add staff. You think it'd be all sunshine and flowers. But there are tons of worthy people out there. And every new employee has the potential to jack up your team's chemistry.
In June, I learned that music may be the most important element in a spot. And that failing to sell a great track can be just as devastating as failing to sell a great script.
In July, I learned to love creative testing.
In August, I learned that energy is 99% of my job. Again.
In September, I learned how to almost die on a Jeep trail. I also learned how it feels to stand at the top of a high mountain pass in the middle a big production crew on a sunrise photoshoot and suddenly be struck by a single thought. "My dad would be so proud of me right now."
In October, I learned that it is vaguely unsettling to achieve your goals. My whole professional life, I wanted to be a creative director at Karsh Hagan. And then I got that job. And I had to look in the mirror and say, "Now what?"
In November, I learned that it is almost impossible to change a preconceived notion.
In December, I learned that advertising is nothing like history. We are judged not on the results of the previous year, but on our potential for the next one. 2011 was good to Karsh Hagan. And to me. But it can and must be fucked off. It's over. What's next? - Nov 10, 11
A month or so ago @chrisreinhard wrote something about how few songs have perfect moments in them. For some reason, the comment stuck with me, and I started making a mental list of musical moments that took my breath away.
After awhile, I began noticing that a high percentage of my list came from songs that could be loosely classified as metal. Like the gripping transition from the chanting of "Waking the Fallen" into the heavy, hooky, mute-and-release intro to "Unholy Confessions." Or the vocal explosion out of the breakdown and into the climax of "Stinkfist," a song for which there is no polite or safe Internet link.
The moments that captivated me most brought dark and seemingly irreconcilable elements together in an unexpected but somehow unavoidable moment of release.
"Release" really is the only word for it.
This construction is very like that of a horror movie, where the torturous second act exists to heighten the excitement of the third, when the victim must earn her way to redemption.
(The parallel with sex is even more obvious. I mention it only to prove that I am not willfully avoiding it.)
When you look back on the very best moments of your life, will you remember summiting a mountain after a grueling hike or deadlifting 400 after five years of training? Or will you remember something lazier: sitting in the grass on a sun-soaked summer evening? Could it be that bliss is too creeping and transitory to really captivate us, and that perfection is created by the brokenness that precedes it? - Oct 28, 11
The formula for great advertising is simple. Emotion = results. Every book and speaker concur. Research proves it. Any proof point or fact you include in a print ad subverts its impact, inviting a rational debate that you are almost sure to lose. So why is it so hard to do in practice?
- Oct 27, 11
You walk around carrying deep and unsettling emotions that you lack the skills to articulate. When you find a band or a writer or an artist that expresses them, you feel connected to that person. They aren't just a band you listen to. They are a translator for your soul. And when that artist changes course - suddenly, radically - you feel betrayed. You didn't lose a source of entertainment. You lost your voice.
- Oct 27, 11
Whatever fame Way of the Gun has, it has because of a three-minute prelude in which an unbelievably profane Sarah Silverman provokes a fight in a parking lot. The scene has nothing to do with the rest of the movie, and even feels like it was shot by a different crew with different equipment.
- Sep 14, 11[Ed. - It would take me forever to link every character and movie cited in this post. Many of them can be sourced at Wikipedia's Disney Princess entry.]
I think I understand what little girls used to dream about. Work hard, be pretty and eventually a prince will sweep you away to a vastly better world. I know this because I've watched every Disney Princess movie. Over and over and over again.
Snow White (1937), Cinderella (1950), Aurora (1959), and Ariel (1989) were all separated from their mothers and tormented by stern female authority figures. But all four remained sweet, beautiful and chaste. And all four eventually had a valiant and handsome prince carry them off without anything resembling a courtship.
But Ariel was the last of a dying breed. In 1991 Beauty and the Beast introduced us to Belle. Like her predecessors, she was sweet, beautiful and chaste. However her male counterpart was not a handsome prince, but a selfish jerk cursed to mope around his castle in the form of a furry and top-heavy beast who kidnapped Belle's father and then blackmailed her into a life of slavery. Belle's raison d'etre was not to better herself, but to find a way to fall in love with this monster and - more importantly - teach him how to love her back.
Since then, America's girls have watched Tiana follow roughly the same script, but with a frog. And they've been introduced to Jasmine and Rapunzel, both of whom are beautiful, powerful princesses who inexplicably fall for petty crooks.
Post-1991 Disney princesses are not the equals of their male counterparts. They are their superiors. They are more attractive and more aggressive. Which makes me think teen boys these days must have it awfully easy. Wear slouchy pants and smoke pot and eventually some gorgeous girl will offer you adoration, money and a blowjob.
If I'm overreacting, I blame Atlantic essayist Caitlin Flanagan. She's one of those writers who thinks stating opinions strongly turns them into facts. But her apocalyptic descriptions of modern teen sexuality worry the hell out of me:Fellatio, which was once a part of the sexual repertoire only of experienced women, is now commonly performed by very young girls outside of romantic relationships, casually and without any expectation of reciprocation... Nowadays girls don't consider oral sex in the least exotic—nor do they even consider it to be sex. It's just "something to do."
This was not the way things were when I was in high school.
It's not female empowerment that scares me. (Although I wouldn't define casual blowjobs as empowering.) It's male apathy. With Disney as their tutor, modern girls are taught to marry their lessers and then try to brush the boys towards greatness through some combination of seduction and guilt.
There is a drastic flaw with this system. Ninety percent of the things teen boys do, they do to impress girls. If the girls no longer need impressing, teenage boys have no reason to rise above mediocre.
One of Flanagan's most powerful pieces is the unfortunately titled essay The Passion of Alec Baldwin. I may have read it more times than I've watched The Little Princess. No small feat, that.A girl wants a story to build her life on, the original story of the great love that brought her here. She wants things a boy never will: the dried flowers from her mother’s bouquet, the glass ashtray from the honeymoon hotel, the telling (over and over again) of the way her father insisted to the charge nurse that there had to be, somewhere on that maternity ward, a private room for his wife.
Perhaps this is why the princes that fell for first-generation Disney Princesses never had a backstory. Nobody cared. Boys don't need backstories. They need swords. Meanwhile, Snow White and her friends had missing matriarchs, aging tormentors, fairy godmothers, animal friends, hobbies, lovely singing voices, cottages in the woods, and so on.
But modern fairy tales fail our children, encouraging our daughters to spend their adolescence making out with losers and our sons to spend their lives pursuing nothing much at all.
With less and less help from society, parents must be more and more vigilante. They have to tell their children that the fairy tales have got it all wrong. They must find a way to explain why casual sex is the province of adults. And they need to tell their daughters this: "Marry a prince, not a project. Marry a man who does not need saving." - Sep 14, 11
Videos come in all shapes and sizes. Some happen to be exactly 30 seconds long and formatted for a television screen. Occasionally these 30-second videos have voiceovers. Here are some things to keep in mind when you write them.
Write both sides of the script: TV scripts are written with visual instructions on the lefthand side of the page and the dialogue, voiceover or music direction on the right. Write that way from the start. Both sides. Simultaneously. It'll prevent you from writing your voiceover as a paragraph of body copy. And it'll get you thinking about how sight and sound can complement each other, allowing you to communicate more in less time. Screenplay format is ok, too. But it drives me crazy when I see a voiceover laid out like it's a chunk of copy.
Cast before you write: Pick a favorite actor. Someone with a distinct vocal pattern. (Morgan Freeman, Matthew McConaughey, Cameron Diaz, Edward Norton and Kris Kristofferson have all been inspirational for me. Al Pacino might be too unique.) Then write your voiceover. Let the actor's voice echo in your head as you write. This exercise will make sure your script is written to be heard instead of read. And it'll make your tone cohesive and interesting.
Transcribe other people's scripts: I was told that as a boy, David Mamet recorded his parents' dinner conversations and then transcribed them so he could see the way everyday conversation looked on a page. It's a mess. People interrupt each other, repeat themselves, and never speak in complete sentences. Try it. If you don't feel like eavesdropping on a conversation, go find your favorite spot on YouTube and transcribe it. You'll be amazed how sparse and odd it looks.
Read your voiceover out loud: Act it out. Don't just mutter it to yourself under your breath while staring at your monitor. Read it boldly. This will ensure your flow is perfect. And it will also ensure that on recording day, you have a clear idea of how the talent should read your script.
Read books: Two of the most famous spots of all time, Surfer and America, have voiceovers derived from literature. More than radio, more than copy, more than headlines or websites, a voiceover is a copywriter's chance to dream big. To write something that will make people's lives better. Go do it.
[Update: Thanks to the Egotist network, this piece has found a home in Denver, Minneapolis, Des Moines, Toledo, Detroit, Los Angeles, Alberta, San Francisco, Atlanta, and DC and Baltimore.] - May 24, 11[Ed. - I wrote the guts of this post at the same time I was working on Our Answers to Your Job Questions with Carmel. The two posts seemed redundant, so I shelved this one. I recently discovered it sitting around and decided to publish it. Enjoy.]
"I want to get into the creative side of the advertising business, but don't have a clue what to do. Help."
I have heard some variation of this question least four dozen times. My answer has become so pat it is more like a speech. Here it is:"The calculation is simple. Great personality plus great book equals job. But I feel your pain. You can't get a job without a book and you can't start on your book without a job. You're stuck in a chicken versus egg scenario. What are you going to do?
First, look around you. Every single designer, art director and copywriter you see has found a way to break out of the loop. So take heart. It can be done.
There are all sorts of ways to make it happen. Be lucky. Have the right parents. Be named David Droga. But in general, I've seen three successful, repeatable strategies that anyone can use. And here they are:
First, try to get a job as an account coordinator. That's not to say that being an account coordinator is any easier than being a junior creative. It's not. At all. But the financial barrier to entry is lower. Ten bucks to print resumes versus several hundred dollars to shoot spec ads, buy layout software, and assemble a book. If you can land a job on the account side, you'll be able to spend a couple years learning how to work hard, speak intelligently and sell great advertising. And you'll be in an environment where you can get ahold of briefs, printers, software and most importantly, mentorship. Work on your book at night and on weekends. After a couple years, you can have a surprise epiphany. "I want to be a creative!" And you'll have the tools and the personal network you need to make that happen.
Second, you could go to ad school. The real benefit of Creative Circus or Miami Ad School isn't only a great portfolio. It's access to a giant network of working professionals all over the world. This is a foolproof method. It is also time-consuming and expensive.
The third strategy is the cheapest and fastest, but also the most bruising. It requires you to be fearless and persistent. Take your crappy samples and show them to everyone you can. Even people who you feel might be more junior or less talented than you. Explain that you do not expect a job, just some advice. You will get lots of conflicting comments and you will hear things that hurt your feelings. Don't let it get to you. Instead, go away and work to make everything better. Try new colors, new layouts, new headlines, new media, new everything. You must demonstrate that you are taking the advice you are getting seriously. Within two months, come back to everyone (yes, everyone) and ask to show your book again. Then ask them if there is anyone else they know who would be willing to give you even more advice. Repeat this process. A lot. With each round of showings, your book should get 25% better and your circle of contacts 50% wider. Eventually, you will be in the right place at the right time."
People in advertising have almost infinite patience for passionate, hardworking, humble young creatives. But they won't waste time on anyone who comes off as lazy, helpless, or full of themselves. So work hard and don't be a jerk. That's my advice. - Apr 22, 11
It's supposed to be The Clash, right? Fugazi? The Smiths? Or maybe Big Head Todd and the Monsters, a band that I practically followed when I was in college? It's not. The only band that changed my life was Duran Duran.
Because Duran Duran was the first band I identified with that was not introduced to me by my parents.
I was barely 10 when Wild Boys was released as a single. At the time, it didn't seem like anything seismic had occurred. I memorized the lyrics. Learned the band members' names. There may have been an air band involved.
It's only now that I realize how important those moments were.
Littler kids don't even consider the existence of a world apart from their parents. What mommy and daddy like is good, everything else is dumb. The moment children discover something on their own is the beginning of their emotional adolescence. It is the initiation of a decade-long hunt for an identity.
I am so lucky that my discovery was Duran Duran, a new wave icon with real songwriting ability that has remained relevant for three decades. The band was a gateway to New Order and Love & Rockets, which in turn led to Joy Division, Bauhaus and all sorts of wonderful hallways that today sound like The National, No Age and Broken Social Scene.
In other words, it was a good gate to open.
The other day I realized my four-year-old could sing at least some of the words of Lying From You, doubtlessly picked up while listening to music with me, her 37-year-old dad. I briefly worried over the implications of helping her hurdle Justin Bieber and dive directly into something louder. But only briefly.
[Ed. - Now that it is written, I think this post is almost a companion piece to I Still Have Heroes, which talked about my lifelong love affair with Miami Vice. Go '80s.] - Mar 10, 11
I co-wrote this article for The Denver Egotist. It includes nuggets such as:
In the longterm, is it better to work internally for a brand or work for an agency?
This depends a bit on the type of job you want. In general, agencies need flexible people, and great work for five brands shows a wider skill set than extensive work for just one.
How do I apply for a specific job when I don't know what, specifically, I want to do within an agency?
You don't. Do internships until you know. When you apply for a job, you need to believe in your heart that you want that job more than any other job in the world. (Or at least act like you do.)
Check it out. - Mar 05, 11
Staff Sergeant William James, to his infant son: You love playing with that. You love playing with all your stuffed animals. You love your Mommy, your Daddy. You love your pajamas. You love everything, don't ya? Yea. But you know what, buddy? As you get older... some of the things you love might not seem so special anymore. Like your Jack-in-a-Box. Maybe you'll realize it's just a piece of tin and a stuffed animal. And the older you get, the fewer things you really love. And by the time you get to my age, maybe it's only one or two things. With me, I think it's one.
Screenwriters have to type all sorts of terrible things. "The zombie tears off the crying naked woman's head." That sort of awfulness. I get all that. But as a writer, I can not imagine anything quite as devastating as sitting down to write the closing monologue of The Hurt Locker. "OK, in this scene, the movie's hero will tell his infant son that he doesn't love him."
Not much leaves me speechless. - Feb 12, 11
The client has a problem. He has to show results. Now. The average tenure for a CMO is 23 months. If the campaign doesn't work, your client will have hell to pay.
If you consistently fail to solve this problem, your agency will be pitched under the nearest bus. You will be let go. A few of your friends will lose their jobs.
The agency has a problem. It needs to do work that makes it famous. That gets on the blogs. That wins awards. Because great work is an agency's main tool for bringing in new projects, new clients and new talent.
If you consistently fail to solve this problem, you will be fired before you drag your whole agency into a self-defeating downward spiral of boring work that attracts timid clients.
The consumer has a problem. He's numb. He looks for inspiration, joy and meaning. And finds Charlie Sheen and Jersey Shore. He is assaulted by so many ads and logos that they've become nothing but the paper that covers the walls of his world.
If you consistently fail to solve this problem, nothing much will happen to you. You will go on winning awards and your clients will shake your hand heartily. But at the very deepest level, you'll be a failure. You were handed the chance to talk to thousands, maybe millions of people. And you passed the opportunity by. In your soul, you'll know. You're part of the problem. You're making this world worse. Not better. You're putting up wallpaper instead of kicking open windows.
Every brief you get has three problems hidden inside it. Average ads solve one. Good ads solve two. Great ads solve three. - Feb 11, 11
"The hardest job in advertising isn't creating the work. It's buying it." I think Mark Fenske said that, although I wouldn't bet my life on it. And it's true. A marketing director has hopes and dreams for a brand. It can be hard to learn to love an agency's interpretation of those dreams.
That being said, we want to thank our clients at American Crew and Pinnacol Assurance for letting us do work audacious enough to be recognized by the New Denver Ad Club at the show last night. The 50 awards the 50 biggest, brashest, most game-changing ideas to come out of the market. We came up with four of them, including the American Crew 100 Honest Answers campaign, the American Crew Hair Color campaign, the American Crew invertible stylebook, and the Pinnacol Assurance Good Makes Good campaign.
If being a marketing director is the hardest job in advertising, surely hosting an award show is close behind. We appreciate Jeff and all the volunteers for giving their time and energy to the event.
Onward,
Matt Ingwalson
[Ed. - Crossposted from Karsh Connect.] - Jan 21, 11
I hate sploggers. I have a Google news alerts on all of Karsh\Hagan's clients. And all of them, especially "American Crew," are triggered a dozen times a day by sploggers. This vomiting up of noncontent should be punishable by law.
I hate teases. People who Tweet things like, "This made my day! LINK" or "Check this out! LINK" Can't you even bother to tell me whether the link leads to a photo or song or give me some little hint?
I hate faux modesty. Status updates like, "I can't believe my blog post is getting so many great, smart comments! LINK" Give me a break. Your transparent attempt to draw traffic to your blog by feigning humility is silly. If you have a great post up, just post the title and let me decide for myself.
I hate complimenting up. I hate insulting up, too, of course. But at least the time-honored practice of drawing your betters into pissing matches requires nimbleness, persistence and balls. The newly popular method of flattering your betters so you can bask in their reflected glory really makes my skin crawl. "I can't believe I'm about to meet INSERT NAME HERE!" Or "Love your most recent post INSERT NAME HERE!" Or "In the offices of INSERT NAME HERE and so psyched to be meeting all their awesome and talented people!" Stop it, stop it, stop it. Nobody buys your lame attempt to ride someone else's coattails.
Oh my god, I think I hate the Internet. When did this happen? What the hell is going on? - Jan 19, 11Lebron:
For myself, 44 minutes is too much. I think Coach Spo knows that. Forty minutes for D-Wade is too much. We have to have as much energy as we can to finish games out.
Kobe:"As far as me hitting the wall, so what if I did? I didn't, but so what if I did?"
"What does it mean if you did?"
"It means nothing."
"Because?"
"Because I'll run straight through it." - Jan 17, 11[Ed. - This short post may give away both twists and the ending of The Disappearance of Alice Creed. You've been warned.]
The Disappearance of Alice Creed is a great movie. But I probably wouldn't have enjoyed it nearly as much 10 years ago.
The first 30 minutes are as hard to watch as anything you'll see in, say, Wolf Creek. But just a few years ago, I could have shrugged my way through them, confident that Alice would, in fact, escape and get to go home eventually.
Not anymore.
I'm not really a big fan of modern horror. There are too many hateful movies out there, movies that detest themselves and their audiences. But by destroying our expectation of a happy ending, Roth and his ilk have added an extra layer of suspense to every new thriller. The fact is, until Creed's credits rolled, I had no idea which of its three characters would live or die. And the ultimately satisfying and thought-provoking ending wouldn't have been a shock at all.
-
Info
- Marketing and Advertising | Greater Denver Area, USExperience
- Sept 2011 - PresentCreative Director / Karsh\Hagan
EducationAdditional Information-
Websites:
-
Tweets
- Kicking it at @PostmodernCo with @bsiagd for a minute. Keep calm and keep going.
- Wonderful morning. Gray skies, warm rain, every green is so rich.
- Unplugging with malice
- I uploaded a remix to @hitRECord today. Something I always wanted to do. Thoughts? http://t.co/CJLkGBRb
- @andrewhyde it's kind of a working breakfast, unfortunately. But it'll be good to say hi.
- @andrewhyde I am at Snooze now!
- @safeway this is a photo of milk from @horizon_organic on the shelf at @mykingsoopers http://t.co/ZB2eHdje
- @safeway this is a photo of milk from @Horizon_Organic on the shelf at @mykingsoopers http://t.co/q1eAH8wM
- @safeway I just spent an hour of my life waiting for a cashier, who then tried to convince me @Horizon_Organic doesn't make milk.
- Miniature Hamlets? Kung fu Dana? Every day should be this surreal.
- Put down CD: Y0 from @ihaveanidea to watch the last quarter of the @denvernuggets game. What a waste. #killtherefs
- @rossiman66 thanks! Are you still in the ATL?
- @pmcowan you're about to have the best day of your life.
- @garethk Yes, but Smiths were a singles band. Hatful and Louder Than Bombs were better than any proper LP.
- Off making stuff in Vail with @BryceBoyer @bsiagd
-
Uploads
