I got the computer of my dreams and now all I want to do is use it to make little inscrutable movies with interesting soundtracks. A few months ago I started collecting MP3s of odd tunes from around the net and compiling them into a 75+ song collection called "unmade movies." Each one, for some reason or another, suggests that it would provide vivid accompaniment to a film. They range from the predictable ambient electronic and cheesy soundtrack to Mongolian vocalists, American gospel, and Klezmer.

It begs the question of what makes for a suitable soundtrack -- that is, music in some form designed to accompany a visual medium that is not inherently connected to the accompanying sounds. As I listened to a zillion MP3 files looking for the perfect tunes, certain seemed to recommend themselves, while others lacked some quality that could not fully define. There are certain unconscious cultural referents at work. The music must evoke a certain mood, but remain flexible enough to accommodate different visual imagery. It must have an authentic and original atmosphere, but not assert its presence so aggressively that it competes with visuals. One experiment I carried out was to listen to a single tune several times in a row, each time conceiving of it as background for a variety of different scenes.

It's easy enough to say that background music must be evocative without being overwhelming, but how does one operationalize that information? It would be interesting to reduce the cultural constructs to quantitative, measurable factors, in much the same way that psychologists break down the concept of "self awareness" into testable characteristics for research. These data patterns must vary considerably between societies, as different groups of people enter the cinema with differing expectations for their entertainment. By measuring the changes in soundtrack metrics over time among different movie-making traditions, and observing the degree to which some adopt the quantifiable patterns of others, you could assess the degree to which one visual culture has contaminated and changed that of another. To add a whole level of complexity, analyze the quantitative relationships between sound patterns and the visual imagery that they accompany. There you are, it's your thesis, free of charge.

The only item I lack in my quest to make little movies is a video camera. And any idea what I'm doing.

Some time ago, Susan and I got this idea that it might be interesting to write screenplays for motion pictures. We'd been discussing collaborating with friends Jim and Barbara on some sort of creative project, and this sounded like an interesting test case. The difference between Jim and Barbara and us is that they have a clue. Jim has taught this topic at the University level, so they actually have something to contribute except energy. They either think we'll be worthwhile creative allies or they are just being very nice.

To get us up to the amateur level, Jim has been giving us a series of lectures on the essentials of the movie script -- its structure and development, as well as how the script is translated into a completed film. It's fascinating to dissect the underlying assumptions behind constructs that I've unconsciously accepted as normative through lifelong exposure. There are certain stylistic elements that, when violated, make a film "feel" wrong to the viewer. You're not aware of them until you see them done wrong, and in most cases it suggests that the filmmaker doesn't know what s/he's doing. The masters are those who manage to violate norms within a conventional structure that prevents the viewer from disassociating from the medium.

Of course I believe my movies will be like that. There are some issues that I have yet to resolve. Although I possess a vast collection of potential soundtrack music, I own the rights to none of it, which could potentially lead to some legal unpleasantness. And since I don't really know anyone who can act worth a damn, it's a safe bet that music will still be important to my shitty little movies. My old friend Doug DeMaine, with whom I once rode off-road motorcycles loaded with ice chests across harsh West African terrain on a mission to deliver vaccines to isolated health posts, said he'd provide music, so the films can only get but so bad. The lack of a camera is somewhat more problematic. In the meantime, I keep editing and re-cutting the demo video that came with the machine. Someone else's home footage of two cute kids washing a dog, over and over. Recut and obsessed over to Kubrickian extremes. Again and again.