Yesterday I talked about my early attempts writing Star Trek: The Next Generation spec scripts circa 1991, when I was 16–17. I went to college from 1992–96, then moved to Los Angeles in 1996 and did Film Score Monthly full time, expanding the magazine and starting our CD label. I also started to write again—thanks to Star Trek. Fred Dekker, who I knew socially from Shane Black’s house (I’ll tell the story of “Shane’s house” some other time), was hired on the first season writ

This is the first script I ever wrote, a spec submission to Star Trek: The Next Generation circa 1991. I was 16. I think I found it in my mom’s basement when I was organizing my old stuff some years ago and brought it out to Los Angeles. Star Trek: The Next Generation was unique amongst television shows in that they had an open submissions policy. This was instituted under the writing showrunner/Executive Producer Michael Piller circa season three. Piller is a pivotal figure

I can’t say I’m proud of this, but apparently I drew this circa 1994 when we were covering Basil Poledouris’ score to the ludicrous Steven Seagal “environmental” action movie, On Deadly Ground. We never printed it in FSM, but I held onto it and scanned it as part of a “Lost Issue” of FSM odds ends that Joe Sikoryak kindly put together when we were scanning all our print backissues. I used to draw a lot and I loved comics, especially Marvel and the X-books. One of my favorite

I’ve been looking through the FSM “physical archives” (the boxes I scanned in 2014) for fun stuff to post—things that are interesting but don’t take too long to explain (or reveal any confidences). Here’s the playlist/mixing instructions for Jerry Goldsmith’s Coma (on our “Michael Crichton” 2CD set of The Carey Treatment, Westworld and Coma) that I left for Michael McDonald at Private Island Audio (then known as Private Island Trax). Mike did the lion’s share of our mixes for

Here’s a random scan from the FSM “physical archives,” which is the digital folder I created from several dozens of bankers boxes of documents that I scanned in 2014. This is my album sequence for Ride the High Country (on a CD with another George Bassman western score, Mail Order Bride). The Sam Peckinpah film is a masterpiece; the score, by Bassman, is incongruously cheerful and traditional, and miles from the dark, brooding, complicated strains that Jerry Fielding later br

I am not planning or preparing these daily blog posts, which is actually quite liberating. I post what I feel, and whoever reads it—well, you get what you pay for. I mentioned yesterday that prior to our kids (twins) being born in 2014, I scanned several dozen bankers boxes of documents to make room at our townhouse. So on days I don’t feel like writing much, I’ll go through those scans and maybe post some interesting odds and ends from my travels. One of the things I used to

Here’s an unhappy memory: taking Film Score Monthly overstock back issues to the recycling center. I always tried to print the FSM magazine—and, for that matter, our CD releases—in large-enough quantities that they wouldn’t become ridiculously expensive collectors’ items. I wanted people to be able to afford them. But more times than not, we made too many, and there are still hundreds of copies of some CDs at Screen Archives. As for the backissues, the good news is that we ha

I am so excited to see The Many Saints of Newark. And I’m happy I can see it at home. With unvaccinated children at home, we’re not taking any chances. Also, I can barely wear a mask for two minutes, let alone two hours. (Nothing ideological, just comfort.) Like most of us, I love The Sopranos and hold it atop the pantheon of TV shows. I would probably call it the best show ever made. Certainly it has been the most influential of the past 20 years. (My other tops: Mad Men, Br

When you watch Star Trek reruns for decades, you start to obsessively notice some things. (“You don’t say!” says every Star Trek fan.) When The Next Generation started, Dr. Crusher’s hair was Gates McFadden’s natural hair (although I seem to remember reading it had been dyed red because of a play she had been in). McFadden was fired at the end of season one because Maurice Hurley, who had taken over the writing–showrunner duties from Gene Roddenberry, hated her character and

I spent a year and way too much money to make a 15-minute sci-fi short film. It was a demanding, stressful experience that I thought would give me a movie career. It didn’t! Although—it might yet. And did I say “way too much money”? Not kidding! The short in question is Sky Fighter, which was released by the DUST sci-fi channel (on Facebook, YouTube, Roku, etc.), from Gunpowder & Sky, where it has performed pretty well. (Here’s our Facebook fan page for the project.) Forgive

Just a quick shout-out today to one of my favorite YouTube channels, Ryan’s Edits, which I guess is by a guy named Ryan. He has a series he calls “In-Takes,” in which he meticulously edits bloopers (from various home video releases, I presume) back into clips from the finished episodes, complete with music and sound design. I love the surreal, understated humor of the all-so-serious drama lurching in and out of a gonzo mistake, as if nothing had happened. Well done!

I love Mancini. My appreciation for him has only grown as I’ve gotten older, especially of his lesser-known dramatic scores. I was watching the original Pink Panther on HBO Max (although that’s hardly one of the “lesser-known” ones!) and that’s why I thought of the below anecdote. In spring 1992, I was invited by the Society for the Preservation of Film Music’s Jeannie Pool to attend their annual awards banquet in Los Angeles—they would pay my way. (Such a terrible name for t

I was sad to hear of Norm Macdonald’s death this week. Cancer is one of the few things I truly fear. 61 is way too young. We lost my stepdad, Herb Putnam, to pancreatic cancer in 2008. He was only 59. Of course I was aware of and liked Norm Macdonald although I wasn’t terribly familiar with his performances. (His heyday at SNL coincided with the brief time in my life—college and right after—when I didn’t have a TV. Me me me everything has to be about ME!!!) He was way funnier

Here is the fundamental conflict in being an entertainment journalist: You can have honesty. You can have access. But you can’t have both. Or, rather, you can try, but it’s a constant battle of picking your spots to speak out vs. kiss ass. It’s a constant, adversarial, passive-aggressive relationship you’re in with your subjects (and their publicists), and frankly it’s exhausting. And there’s no way to escape it without compromising your integrity. I started the magazine that

Showtime has been showing the four Indiana Jones movies. I love watching them—even the ones I like less (more below)—because Spielberg’s direction is endlessly delightful not to mention educational. There are two different “schools” of directing, although I tend to think there are three: 1) Camera. 2) Performance. And when you put those two together: 3) Storytelling. Spielberg is the closest we’ll ever have to a Mozart of directing. His judgment and taste in composition, bloc

I wrote a few days ago about Star Trek: The Next Generation’s lame first season. The embarrassing early-season episode “Justice” aired last night on H&I and I watched some of it, following along with the script at ST–Minutae. The first two seasons of TNG were produced under such drama that sometimes the scripts are different from the episodes—and this revealed a different ending. In this episode, the Enterprise visits the primitive Aryan sex planet (thanks, Gene), filmed at t

I have explained elsewhere, to the approximately three people reading this blog (including my mom—hi mom!), that I have been trying to break in as a writer–director in the film business. This is a long, arduous, competitive process, and I’m reasonably optimistic, though it’s already been going on for (eeeek!) decades. The more I have learned about screenwriting, the more I have come to believe that it can be learned, but not taught. The critic’s conclusion in Ratatouille is t

Here, briefly, is the story of my most memorable childhood trip aboard the Steamship Authority’s crummiest boat, the M.V. Uncatena. This is circa the mid to late 1980s. The “Uncy” (also the “Tincantena” or “Junkatena”) was beloved by no one as the SSA’s smallest and least comfortable vessel. She was built as an auxiliary boat in 1965, and quite tiny: She was fast, but everybody hated her spartan, bus-like accommodations, compared to the graceful, larger steamships that had tr

Here’s a screen grab from the teleplay to the Star Trek: The Next Generation pilot, “Encounter at Farpoint,” by D.C. Fontana and Gene Roddenberry—but really, the lameness is all Roddenberry. This comes near the end of the show. As you can see, as cringeworthy as the episode is, it could have been even worse. (All of these scripts are online.) And yes, I know the episode is important for introducing the character of Q. As bad a writer as Roddenberry was, his ideas and dictums

Above: the chair (the white glider) where I sat and watched the news on 9–11. I once had an Internet date with a young woman who dabbled in stand-up comedy. I watched some of her act on YouTube. Her best joke was of tourists who land at JFK, hop in a cab, and blithely say, “Can you take me to 9–11?” I am the last person who can add anything meaningful to the commentary on the 20th anniversary of this terrible day. But it also seems wrong not to acknowledge it. I remember waki