Burn Out Than Fade Away ...

Most movie makers work backwards. First they look for that brilliant ending. A shocking one. Or a surprising one. One the audience cannot predict midway. Once it's in place, they work the story backward. Find the characters, build them, name them and write the story. Lay out the path that leads to the finish. Leave enough hints on the way, but not too obvious. Be vague in some places. Set them up for something, then pull the carpet from underneath. Bait and switch.

And this is how Gwindle Adams liked to make his movies. All seven of them. Each of them had left his audience surprised. Yes, the word was Surprised,  though he liked to believe they were Stunned. But this eighth movie was different. He had finished shooting almost two hours worth of footage, but hadn't thought of the climax yet. He had begun shooting before the idea came by. Six months in and no ending decided. First time ever. Gwindle closed his eyes and went into deep thought.

Joseph Newrich came in smiling, almost apologetic. Gwindle's assistant. Fancy designation - Head of Creativity. Full of ideas. None of them good. "You wanna hear #15?" he asked. He immediately realized he had phrased it wrong. It would remind Gwindle that 14 times he had failed. Before Gwindle could react, he began speaking - "Tom gets depressed, starts drinking, goes mad and burns down the last building he built." Gwindle heard him, twisted his face and threw his glass at Joe. Lost his temper. Screamed like a madman. First the glass dining table was broken, then the vodka bottle and a few books were thrown at Joe. That's when Joe walked out, wiping the blood off his forehead.

Joe had had enough. He hated his job. This was going nowhere. He sat down, wanting to quit and walk away. Ten minutes later, Gwindle came out to apologize. He tried his best to look genuine. It won't happen again, Gwindle assured him. This is not the first time, mumbled Joe as he felt the other 3 scars on his face. Gwindle ignored him and began to talk calmly and slowly.

"Listen to me carefully. Concentrate. I'll recap the story so far. Understand the flow and what I want. Ok? The protagonist Tom is a famous architect. He's built seven monuments. All of them are now tourist attractions just for the design. He's received multiple awards. Fame. Money. Women. He's living the rockstar life. But it's fragile. One bad building and it would all be over. He's now building the eighth. And he knows it isn't his best. He's struggled for ideas. He still doesn't know how it'll finally look. And he knows a ninth one will be a disaster. Will ruin his reputation. This is his last. Gotta retire now. Before people realize he's lost it. Got it? Now I need the climax scene. He has to go. The building must remain in his memory. Need the message out subtly. Not  spoonfed. Gotta make the audience interpret. So yeah, we can't burn down the building. Got it?" Gwindle made the speech and walked away, leaving Joe in thought.

Joe sat there like a statue. Forehead creased, eyes closed, fingers clenched. An hour passed. Then a smile broke slowly. Became a wide grin. Number 16 was here. Sweet 16. This time, Joe walked in confidently. He pulled up a chair and began narration. He spoke non-stop to a bewildered Gwindle. Once he was done, Gwindle was sold on the idea. He got up and gave Joe the longest hug. Holding his shoulders, he said "I love you, my man. I'm gonna miss you." They got to work.

The movie released a month later. First day first show sold out. Packed cinema hall. Gloomy crowd. Some people standing. Some on the floor. Not enough space. They watched silently for an hour and 50 min. They loved Tom. They cared for him. They loved the eighth monument. They felt sad when he cried. They laughed when Tom laughed. They wondered what Tom was going to do.

The final scene began. Tom sitting in his twelfth floor apartment. Sitting by the window. A drink in his hand. Bright daylight outside the window. Buildings all around. He spoke emotionally into a tape recorder. He spoke about his past. He spoke the truth. He said he wasn't happy with his work anymore, and wanted to stop. I want to burn out, not fade away. He told the box that he's giving up and retiring in some secluded island. Goodbye he said, but he won't kill himself. Switching off the recorder, he said to himself, but actually addressing the audience - "I don't wanna leave a lie behind. I'll be honest to myself and all my followers. No subtlety. No secrecy. Gotta go out my way" and put the tape in a bag that read "Confidential. For the New York Times."

He took a swig from the whiskey and stared out the window. The cinema hall fell silent. They saw some movement in the window opposite Tom's window. Slight movement of a man. They didn't know if it was relevant. This man walked out of the window and stood on the edge. The screen began to shake. The cameraman was adjusting. He was zooming into the opposite window. Before the blur went, the man jumped. The camera moved to the window and looked down. The audience followed the view. The camera focussed. The face of the splattered body was now visible. The audience gasped. They knew the face. This scene looked real. The screen went blank.

"Please note - The final scene was caught on camera accidentally. It was not part of the shoot" it said in the middle of the screen.

They were stunned, not surprised. The longest applause followed when the screen read "In loving memory of Mr.Gwindle Adams. Rest In Peace." A standing ovation followed. Applause went on for ten minutes.

Tears rolled down Joe Newrich's eyes as he clapped from the first row. "Just the way he wanted.", he told himself. "Gwindle had burned out. Not faded away".

(from: http://senthilsblog.blogspot.com/2011/10/burn-out-than-fade-away.html)