Wait a minute - if Tatooine is supposed to be the ass-backwards middle of nowhere in a galaxy of ten thousand star systems, how the fuck does Tarkin know what that guy is talking about when he says that the Falcon blasted its way out of Mos Eisley? Isn't that like me recognizing the name of a coffee shop in outer Mongolia?

Well gang, in spite of my best - and if I may say so, heroic - efforts, there will be no 10th anniversary sequel to Fuck: the Documentary, which was to be titled Fuck 2: Fuck You!. Instead, Adam and I will be collaborating on a film about Oshawa. It will combine fiction and non-fiction elements and be called You, Me, the Cannonball, and the Shwa. We aim to go to camera in November, when the Shwa will be at its most Shwa. More details to be confirmed at the latertime.

Meanwhile, I'm getting an awful lot out of the Stephen Prince book, The Warrior's Camera. It's a little annoying that I can actually hear Prince's didactic monologue in my head as I'm reading his words, but that's my own fault for listening to so many Criterion commentaries. I remain intensely distrustful, however, of any analysis that makes it seem like a filmmaker put so much damn work into the pre-thought of his movie. Diagrams and schematics and ethical projects and so forth. Surely nobody actually breaks a film down to what essentially amounts to a masters thesis in philosophy, before he even begins writing it? Surely one just has an idea, sees some themes or concepts that can be articulated through that idea, and then just tries to make the flick as best as one can?