Announcing The [Screenplay] Bitch List

THE BITCH LIST

The Bitch Pack announces  The [Screenplay] Bitch List, as seen in Bust Magazine.

On this list we will have un-produced screenplays that not only pass The Bechdel Test, but that  feature female characters who are:

Brilliant
Intriguing
Tenacious
Creative
Heroines

We’re keeping a tally of votes from entertainment industry professionals of scripts they see in 2012 that:

Pass The Bechdel Test for more than one page:

1. It has to have at least two [named] women in it

2. Who talk to each other

3. About something besides a man

In general, we’re also always on the look out for:

Female characters who are-

Active instead of passive

And dialogue that is-

Beyond the stereotypically “female” speaking roles, ie. about just shopping or babies.

We’ve partnered with Pop Change (where popular culture meets social change) to better facilitate data collection for the list. Pop Change was started by Dr. Eleanor Morrison, a graduate of USC’s Annenberg School of Communication and Journalism. Please sign up here to be part of this new tide.

It’s sad to see that only two Oscar nominated films passed The Bechdel Test (see below). Women talk to each other about all kinds of things in real life besides men, so why don’t women do the same more in our “best” films?

Thanks to Feminist Frequency for this video describing this year’s field of nominated films and if/how they made the cut.

We will announce the results in January 2013.  The Bechdel Test page has breakdowns of movies that have already been produced and released. We will concentrate on scripts that perhaps should get made.

Shout out to the creators of The Blood List for horror scripts and The Black List for just great screenplays.

Email us your votes with your affiliation to biatchpack@gmail.com.

Thanks for playing and we look forward to hearing from you.

 

T&A Do The Bitch Pack

One of our names begins with T and the other with A – we’re a magical combo representing the front and the back, the best of both worlds, the humps and the lumps. We’re women with similar life paths, who came to Los Angeles ages ago and earned our stripes looking for love among the Hollywood hipsters. We are here to share what we’ve learned with you, with the charm of Southern gals and the smarts of city vixens.

A has dated so many LA guys that she couldn’t come close to naming them all, and sometimes doesn’t recognize them in public.

T has managed not to kill her boyfriend, somehow.

Please come join us at our Facebook Page.

The Bitch Pack is a collective of female film students and professionals working in Hollywood. Look out for them at upcoming film festivals and happenings. Hear this new breed howl:

Where are you from?

LA, all over California and The East Coast.

How did you get your name?

Guys have been traveling around in “Wolf Packs” after The Hangover, so why not women?

How did you guys identify each other out of the herd of Hollywood hopefuls?

There was bonding over a couple of our old teachers (one male and one female) putting us down- saying things like- we should just work in development or maybe, maybe we could get to write tv movies. One of them goes around trying to sell a “summit” on how to make it in tv when he’s never been on staff on a show. They set limitations for us and that’s wrong.  Some teachers want disciples, not people with minds of their own who aren’t afraid to express themselves. There really needs to be more education reform.

We feel like we don’t need to take crap from anyone and can work together to fulfill each other’s visions, and not accept what we were being told just because our tastes don’t lead us to writing movies like How Do You Know or  The Vow for instance.  We’re not only into mushy non-sense that’s marketed to women. Movie makers need to give movie viewers more credit.

We separated from those around us who judge us and identify themselves by things like how we appear and what we eat. We know someone who paid for an agent and tells everyone his career is “skyrocketing”. We know you don’t pay agents upfront.

We don’t go around telling everyone lofty stuff. Everyone in “Hollywood” is so pretend elitist, it’s ridiculous. We’re just doing what we can and recognize the potential in one another.

What do you bring to the table in terms of entertainment?

Execs are always saying they don’t know how to get young people into the theaters anymore. Maybe they’re talking to the wrong people.

We’re movie goers; we’re the audience too and 90% of what we see is crap. We write stuff we want to see that’s not offered. We write horror with female protagonists and off beat coming of age. Young women want to see more than Twilight, ok?

To the Hollywood establishment- call us if you want to know why you’re at a 16 year low in box office returns. To them we say, bitch please~ women viewers are smarter than you give us credit. We want better. Give us the resources to make it.

We understand marketing and transmedia as well.

What’re your domination plans?

We found a couple great mentors. We’re not going to drop their names. One is a strong woman who’s brains and muscle. She built her own empire and knows how to give back. She’s coaching us on how to get stuff done. She’s helped other film makers when they were starting out—like John Cassavetes. Our other mentor is a riot. He’s just the best. He’s realistic and above the frey. He’s made things you’ve seen before and probably love, if you’re not of the Bride Wars persuasion.  He encourages free-thinking.

We’re also in contact with other graduate students at a different, near-by, supposedly rival film school. We watched The Golden Globes with them and are cooking stuff up with them for an Oscars party.

We also have the advantage that one of us has Irish citizenship if anyone out there has any cultural significant ideas for international co-funding, we’ll pitch it to The Irish Film Board, who are all very nice.

Favorite movies?

American Pyscho, Drive, Submarine, Kick-Ass, Attack the Block, Rocket Science, Bubba Ho-Tep, Perfume, Raising Arizona, Kill Bill, Death Proof

Favorite Hollywood haunts?

Candy stores.

Places that are dark and serve grilled cheeses and pirate chais.

Totally.

Nom nom and a yum yum.

Find The Bitch Pack here. or @biatchpack

 

Deadmau5 at the Hollywood Palladium

When people ask me why I continue maintaining this blog (no one asks me that) I tell them it’s because there are some good perks. Those perks include receiving emails that ask if I’d like to go check out a Deadmau5 show at the Hollywood Palladium. Well yes I would, thank you.

Most shows I attend involve watching 2-4 people strum or beat on instruments while I stand in a crowd of folded-arm 30-somethings. This crowd was a little different.

The scene at the Palladium only be compared to Second Life. People danced like they were at the bottom of a pool, holding themselves up with one hand for ridiculous amounts of time, and other insane moves that my aging brain was not quick enough to take in and comprehend.

That said, this show was awesome. It’s been years since I attended a concert that felt like a full-on experience (Poison/Warrant 1990 Providence Civic Center… ok Death Cab at the Hollywood Bowl was pretty amazing too.) There was an overwhelming positive vibe in this giant room. A stranger hugged me and some girl with a blue band-aid over her mouth smiled at me (I think.)

If you get a chance, you should definitely check out Deadmau5 when he returns to the Hollywood Palladium, and he has to because this was the perfect room for him. Thanks to HARD for putting on this amazing show, I will be a return customer/hug recipient.

Here’s some iPhone photos of Z-Trip/De La Soul/Nosaj Thing @ The Palladium

One of DJ Z-Trip‘s reps has apparently been spying on my Hype Machine account and noticing all the hip hop and dance music starting to creep into my usually rock-centric favorites list. I’d recently mentioned to the girlfriend that we should hit up a more dance-oriented show at the Palladium because it’s the perfect venue to get your dance/roller skate on and from the heavens of the internet, a press pass found its way into my inbox.

We arrived in time for the start of Nosaj Thing‘s set. In my ideal Jetsons-style home of the future, I will be able to come home and with one click I’ll have a cold beer shot into my hand, mood lighting will automatically set to “relax”, and Nosaj Thing will emerge from behind a curtain and start doing his thing in my living room. Never before has knob twisting seemed like performance art, but I can see it now.

I never thought I’d get the chance to see De La Soul perform live, but there they were, warming up the crowd with a mix of the old and the new.

Z-Trip (that small shadowy figure in the top pic) turned the Palladium into a full-on party that made me feel like I was at once attending a party at LAX, a high school dance, and a NYC block party. We all like to think we have eclectic taste in music, but Z-Trip owns us all there, and he carries his collection around with him to every gig. Plus: cameo by L.L. Cool J? What a night.

Hopefully I’ll have that whole low-light photography thing down by the next time Z-Trip rolls through town.

Every Rose Has Its Thorn – Poison and Motley Crue at the Hollywood Bowl

When you’re the hippest blogger in town you need to be able to make tough decisions. When presented with The Flaming Lips at Hollywood Forever Cemetery vs. Florence and the Machine at the Greek vs. Poison and Motley Crue at the Hollywood Bowl, you have to choose Poison and Motley Crue.

Why? Well in my case it’s because 15-year-old me would lose his mind if he was given the chance to see Poison and Motley Crue on the same stage. 18-year-old me would die to see The Flaming Lips at a cemetery, but I’ve seen an amazing Lips show in recent years and I’m going through this concert bucket list chronologically.

The Thorn:

I need to accept the fact that buying tickets to a Hollywood Bowl show means I have to take a half day off from work. I became aware of this fact after leaving Santa Monica at 6pm in an attempt to make Poison’s set at 8pm. I would have loved to check out the New York Dolls’ set, but the Scenestar informed me that they were going on at 7pm and I assume their entire audience was made up of people that actually live at the Hollywood Bowl because I saw no way of getting from anywhere to the Hollywood Bowl by 7pm.

It took 30 minutes to get from Wilshire/Centinela to the 405 underpass. Poison, the reason I spent all my high school graduation money on an Ibanez RG-470 guitar, was hitting the stage in an hour and a half. “Aren’t rock bands notorious for going on late?” Not for a “lease event” at the Hollywood Bowl. The Hollywood Bowl attached the words “lease event” to this show as if they were putting a Mr. Yuk sticker on a cleaning product under your mom’s sink.

We started heading north on Highland at about 7:10pm. That’s 50 minutes until Poison, the reason I made my brothers pose for a photo wearing colored towels like 80’s metal wigs, was to take the stage.

Every driver in front of us was texting. Every single one. Lights go green, we lean on the horn.

*Polite wave in the rear view*

For the last couple Hollywood Bowl shows we attended, we parked in the parking garage at Hollywood and Highland. This had a tendency to turn into a slow, painful downward spiral of cars parading down into the ground in order to find an available parking spot 20,000 leagues under the tourists. This time, we spied out of the corner of our eyes a parking lot next to Jimmy Kimmel’s outdoor stage. It was $20, but that $20 got us out of the car and power walking up the Highland hill, past the bacon wrapped sausages and into the Hollywood Bowl.

I may have thrown down some serious cash on these tickets. I justified this by telling myself that I was satisfying 15-year-old me’s desire to be close to his rock idols. The other reason is I don’t know what kind of people I’d be forced to sit next to in the cheap seats at a Poison/Motley Crue show. I had to sit next to a complete A-hole at a recent Prince show, so this wasn’t worth taking any chances. When we found our box seats we noticed that our little pen was already filled with piggies. I asked the usher if that was in fact our box, hinting that maybe someone there was in the wrong seat, but he said “yes those are your seats” and pointed to the two chairs folded up in the corner.

So there I was, dripping with sweat from an uphill power walk, standing in front of a short girl who had a perfect view of the stage until I showed up, and taking up all the space that the couple next to us had been using to dine on the 30 or so brownies they bought at Diddy Riese.

The Rose


After two minutes of wrestling our folding chairs to their open position, Poison appeared on stage. Look What The Cat Dragged In indeed: Four golden gods from my high school years running around the stage like it’s 1986. Rikki Rockett, who I regularly see at Coffee Bean, still twirling sticks after ever snare hit, Bobby Dall, still the dark horse I’m not quite sure about, Bret Michaels using the same stage banter I heard at the Providence Civic Center in 1991, and C.C. DeVille, still the ultimate rock star, but now with veneers that shine a bright white light all the way back to the cheap seats.

Poison’s set was really short, under an hour. This was actually fine as it made for a great best-of set that left me and all the other drunk, quickly approaching middle-aged people in the crowd wanting more. Talk Dirty To Me, Unskinny Bop, Nothin’ But A Good Time, Every Rose Has Its Thorn, Fallen Angel -they were all in there. They were off the stage in under an hour, and by the time they left the stage all the other hair metal fans from the West Side had made it through that hell traffic and were in their seats with their $13 beers and ready to rock.

After a short break, Motley Crue exploded from behind a big top curtain. Tommy Lee, looking almost as young as he thinks he is, Nikki Sixx, looking pretty much just like he did in my old Crue posters, Vince Neil was there without a handcuffs and Mick Mars, still managing to stand on stage and hit every single note from those old records despite a continuing battle with ankylosing spondylitis.

Motley Crue’s set was a spectacle straight out of their 80’s heyday. Fire, more fire, smoke, fire extinguishers, Tommy Lee’s rollercoaster drum solo in which he, and then he and a fan, flipped upside down and all around to the Ohio Players’ Rollercoaster.  Vince Neil is still not able to sing his way through a whole line, unless he’s standing still with a guitar or next to Tommy Lee’s piano but he did not shy away from any of those high notes and the crowd appreciated it. A nice addition to their lineup was two dancer/singer women that added some necessary eye candy and really helped fill up those singalong hooks.

There were some surprises too, in addition to the insane price of  t-shirts ($40). Cee Lo Green joined the Crue on stage for Don’t Go Away Mad, Just Go Away which he mashed up with his hit Fuck You. Another, perhaps slightly more unwelcome surprise (even more than the t-shirt prices?), was the buckets of red liquid that stagehands and Tommy Lee threw on the crowd, not while everyone was drenched in their own sweat from partying so hard, but after the music stopped and people were searching for their keys. That was odd. I can only imagine the soaking wet pissed off girlfriend conversations that filled the streets of Hollywood afterward. “Yeah sorry about that, but please don’t ruin the upholstery.”

Note to self: Stop complaining about the $40 t-shirts, those t-shirts are paying to keep Mick Mars out of the hospital and Vince Neil out of jail, so unless you have an excellent bedside manner or you’re into conjugal visits, just suck it up and by a shirt to keep these guys on the road for as long as possible.