Had a blast shooting our comedy web series Sherlock@Home

SHERLOCK@HOME: A Stay At Home Dad Who Solves Neighbourhood Mysteries

I had an amazing time shooting our new comedy web series Sherlock@Home, about a former cop now stay at home dad who solves neighbourhood mysteries. We were blessed with an amazing cast and crew. Special shout outs go to our lead actor David Pinard, producer Elena Lombardi and director Jaime Escallon of LuloFilms who made it all happen.


I can't wait to share the actual show with everyone. Stay tuned.

GOOD COP/DAD COP

Chris Rock and I Part Ways Over a Bully

I just saw Chris Rock in concert. It was a great night with some very funny pointed stuff. While I'm a fan of Rock's, I can't speak definitely on the history of his material though one routine about keeping your daughter off the pole being the mark of a good father is a great bit about parenting  delivered in a very funny, obscene way. I found some of his material (particularly about men v. women and relationships) rehashed and, since his bitter divorce and custody battle, more therapeutic ranting than comedy. But  the audience generally lapped it up.

He had this new bit about bullies though that I keep thinking about. Essentially he has put his daughters into private school and when he went to the orientation he heard how the school was proud of its no tolerance of bullies policy. His response was nearly to pull his daughters out of school - they needed bullies to make them tough and ready for the real world where bullies even get elected president. I get it. It was a joke. And kinda funny. But it got me thinking, which is the mark of a good comedy show in my book.

I agree with Rock that we do our kids no favours by shielding them from the real world (the irony of him making this assertion in the context of putting his kids into private school seemed not to occur to him or was at least unacknowledged). But the idea of just throwing them into that situation without support seems wrongheaded. Especially given something I just have gone through.

My boys play hockey. Two of them now at a (low) competitive level. Recently my second announced that he wanted to try out for the Select hockey team (a team selected from your local hockey club that plays against other club's teams). Honestly, I wasn't keen on the time and monetary commitment this would entail. I told him he'd have to practice more (I thought this would end it - he takes after me, lazy) Fine, he said.  Huh. I told him the only time that worked for me was at 7:00 am on Fridays before school. No problem, he said. I was flummoxed but impressed. Hard-ass.

He worked hard, improved immensely, even being named his house league's team Most Improved Player. Still I wasn't sure he would make the Select team - they were very good, very competitive and a closed shop. Then, a miracle - the entire Select team left to start up a new higher level competitive team elsewhere. So my son tried out and (like every other kid who showed up) he made the team. More importantly, his good friend who lives two blocks away also made the team. Therefore I had a built-in carpool. Which is critical.

"With three boys, I don't care how important something is to them - if there's no carpool it's not happening."

It's been a happy experience, he's getting a lot of hockey, he gets some cool team swag to strut around in and he has achieved a goal of his through hard work, persistence and a fair amount of luck. The team is actually winning many games, which was an open question given the draft process. There is another kid on this team who lives close to us who needed regular rides to games and practices. He has a single mum and they don't have a car. I can't even imagine trying to swing competitive hockey in that situation so, while I wasn't ecstatic about having to do more driving out of my way, there really was no question about we other two families stepping up and bringing him into the car pool.

Over the last few months I've got to know this kid a little and he seemed super happy to have made the team. He scored his first goal recently. But he started missing practices. And then just the other day I heard from my co-driver that he was thinking of quitting the team. Why would he do that? It turns out that some dirt bags on the team have been bullying him when there were no adults around, awarding him the 'worst player of the game' etc. True, this kid isn't an amazing player but everyone made the team because NO ONE ELSE SHOWED UP. But most of the kids on this team are very well-off, entitled, all go to the same private school and summer camp and this kid doesn't fall into any of those categories - to the degree that, instead of being driven to practices in a luxury cross-over, he often takes the bus. And I mentioned: single mum, reduced circumstances etc. In other words - soft target.

I lost my mind.

Then commenced some questionable parenting on my part. I cross-examined my son on what was going on. I got the usual dazed look, shrugged shoulder and non-committal grunt most direct questions elicit. But this time I would not accept it. Within moments I had the whole sordid story. Yes, the kid had been bullied by, surprise surprise, one of the entitled in-group. Surely we've seen enough John Hughes movies by now to know the dynamic. My son didn't participate (thank god!) but he didn't stand up for this kid either. I berated him at that moment - how many damn anti-bullying/empathy-building sessions has he had to sit through at school (at times it seems like they have one of these a week) and he does nothing? He was a tearful wreck by the time I finished with him. Then - remorse.

Clearly, though he had sat through these consciousness-raising sessions, they don't help kids with how hard it is to actually stand up and speak up against this sort of bullshit. All it does is impose another obligation on kids. And one most adults fail at, in my experience. Poor kid was just trying to fit into a new team himself and here I was expecting him to take on the whole in-group power structure like some  pint sized Norma Rae. I apologized and I told him I expected him to stand up for this kid and to support him but told him he should find the right way for him to do that. I gave him some ideas. Some were even appopriate and didn't involve swearing.

Now what I needed to do was show him how to stand up to bullies. I emailed the mom and told her we would support her and her kid and outlined what we would do. I contacted one of the team managers, whom I know to be a good man and father, and told him the story. But I heard nothing from the mom. I worried that I had overstepped and maybe she didn't appreciate my butting in. I still felt it needed to be addressed, if only to make sure my son was on a team that was worth being on.

The next day we were all notified that, after the game, there would be a team meeting with all parents and kids. Still nothing from the mom. I fretted. Close to game time she and her son still hadn't arrived - then they rushed in with only a few minutes before game time but didn't have the entrance fee. I paid for them. All I got was a brusque thank you and they rushed off to the changeroom.

I was hurt and felt I'd blundered in and made things worse.

Then I started feeling irritated. Was she actually angry at me? And  no real thank you or acknowledgement that I had tried to do the right thing? Why did I bother with this crap? And I overheard some other parents complaining about having to go to this meeting, "Why do the parents have to get involved? Let the kids sort this out." Now I was really in a bad mood.

After the game (we won!), the meeting was held and it was handled exceptionally well. No one was centred out but it was made very clear that any more nonsense of this sort would result in real and immediate consequences - less ice time to suspensions to expulsion. Everyone seemed to feel positive (me included) about the meeting and my son definitely seemed glad it had been handled without him. We were joking around when the bullied boy's mom came up to me.

It turns out she hadn't known who I was until she saw me with my son. Ego-check. She thanked me. She was very grateful. She clearly had been at her wit's end and felt alone and unsure what to do. She felt optimistic about the future. I'm sure that there will still be hiccups but I feel we turned a corner. Funny enough, my son, when asked by my wife about the meeting, shrugged and said of course everyone was being on their best behaviour because they knew what the meeting was about - little cynic. But he did say that everyone was pretty keen on playing hockey so, if for no other reason, they'd probably behave. I'm totally OK with that - I'm not expecting these kids to actually get empathetic.

Later that night we got a heartfelt email from the boy's mom - and got a real sense of how they had been struggling, thinking the situation was impossible and ready to give up but that knowing  people were there to help them made a huge difference. Her son is now happy and is eager to play. In her words, we "saved her and saved the dreams of a child". Perhaps overblown but she really meant it. I'm a cynical fellow (no kidding) but this obviously got to me. *sniff

Kids learn how to handle bullies not by preventing bullying (because you really can't) or by throwing them into the mix and letting them sort it out on their own (because they lack the skills to do that effectively) but by modelling behaviour that shows them that sometimes taking a stand and speaking out you can change things in a practical way. And that letting people know they are not alone is huge.

In that vein, I replied to the mom's email that we were all happy to help and reminded her that -

as the old African saying goes, "It takes a village to raise a hockey player."

Using My Words



Every so often I bump into someone or have them over for dinner or we are hanging out somewhere and they will pepper their conversation with profanity. They will stop short and look like they're in trouble because they will realize one of my kids is there.

"Oops, sorry", they will say.

I tell them not to worry. My kids have heard worse - they have been in the car when I'm driving.

I don't even want to know the stuff I've said while my children are in the car. Occasionally I'll come out of some sort of fugue state and catch the last few words of what I was muttering and I am shocked and appalled at the base and ignorant invective I've been spewing but, oh, well, I'm not likely to stop now so I ignore it and turn the radio up.

I defend it by saying "Daddy is using his driving words."

In my defence, I drive in Toronto which apparently has a higher than average number of morons driving (mind you, I occasionally drive though Kitchener Waterloo and they've got to be pound for pound the worst drivers I've encountered). One of my friends, back home visiting his folks from Europe drove to meet me for lunch. He lives in one of those progressive European cities where no one needs to drive apparently. He missed the experience and wanted to get back behind the wheel so he borrowed his father's car to do so. He confessed that, within moments, he was turned into a belligerent rascist hothead.

"Sweeney, I called someone a Goddamn Chinaman. First of all, who even uses that expression anymore? And second, he wasn't even Asian. I became not only a racist but an inaccurate racist!"

He may never drive again. Driving does it to you. Even my very nice neighbour is transformed by driving. She took my kids to the movies a little while ago and they came back and entertained me with the expressions she uses as she makes her way driving through the city. "Come on, uncle, move it!" "Let's go, fatty!" etc.

That said, am I a complete hypocrite when I do not let them swear around me or in public? No. I don't think so. They need to know what is appropriate and swearing is still not socially acceptable in most situations. All bets are off though when they start driving. I'll have to bite my tongue when they start using their own driving words once they get behind the wheel. I got a small taste of it the other day, I was confronted by someone at a four way stop who apparently lapsed into a coma partway through their turn. I leaned on my horn, and waved him through impatiently.

'Come on, come on," I muttered, "if you're going to go, go!"

"Halfwit," concurred my eight year old in the back seat, not even looking up from his picture book.

Parental Advisory Moves On To Phase II NSI Totally TV

 

Parental Advisory moves onto Phase Two of National Screen Institute - Totally Television

 

 

Jaime Escallon Buraglia (Producer) and Christopher Sweeney (Writer) of Parental Advisory
 

Very happy to move onto the next exciting phase of this well-regarded television development program. A workshop in March, followed by the Banff Television Festival and pitching Network executives. The grant will also help us develop the project and perhaps take a trip to L.A. to court backers.

This is a further development of our comedy series which began with our bravoFACT short Parental Advisory: Disciplinary Measures.

Apple Falls Not Far From The Tree - But It Fell In Glorious Combat

So, I'm a writer these days - occasionally paid, sometimes read - when I can fit it in around laundry, ferrying kids to activities and the general duties that come with being a parent of three kids, that is. I once was a lawyer and the decision to leave lawyering to do writing was clearly not primarily an economic one (or at least not a good economic one) but was one reached with my wife when trying to sort out how best to look after our kids and have a good life. I'm still amazed that she supports me (in many sense of the word) in the decision to stay at home, be there for her and the kids while pursuing the dream of writing for real and dependable money some day.

That decision would not be supported by many and I still wake up in the middle of the night, with "What the hell were you thinking?!" screaming in my head. Even my 9 year old recently questioned my decision while I was editing a school paper he had written. Of course, he objected to me looking at it as he knew it meant more work for him, so I pointed out to him that I am a professional writer and editor who gets (irregularly) paid to do what I was doing for him. There was a pause as he digested my words and then asked - "So why don't you go back to being a lawyer?" Jerk.

Nonetheless, occasionally it pays off in other ways - like the time I found said jerk up on his bed reading a bunch of graphic novels. I asked him what he thought of them. Pretty good, he answered. I pressed for more details as to which he liked better and why. He sighed and looked at me. "Why?" he asked.

"Because I wrote those."

He was dumbstruck. "What? You WROTE these? How?" Certainly not an unqualified endorsement since he was amazed that I was capable of writing good stuff but, you know, I'll take it.

The most recent example of me being a writer (perhaps) influencing my kids is the new authorship of my 7 year old, whose prolificacy frankly astounds and shames me. He'll shout out from the other room, "I just finished another chapter! That's four today!", while I'm busy wasting time reading Facebook. He'll also insist on reading aloud his compositions. Sure, as an 'artist' and fellow writer I should support this but again, given his output I'd be listening to his stories all day, so I try and avoid it. He announced after shutting his notebook in satisfaction, "Maybe I'll be a writer when I grow up." This made me almost as happy as when last year he told me (when he discovered I could juggle), "Daddy, when I grow up I want to be a clown. We can be clowns together." Sniff.

Mind you, I am a little concerned about his potential foray into writing for a living. He should have some other skills to fall back on. He's a bit of a bruiser and is enrolled in French Immersion, so I've had the dream of him perhaps getting a rugby scholarship to a school in France where he could train to become a pastry chef, with a minor in clowning.

His writing actually might prove more commercial than mine. It usually begins with two guys who meet up and immediately embark on an adventure involving taking on bad guys and killing them in numerous ways. Yikes. I'm waiting on the call from the school psychologist.

Parental Advisory: Disciplinary Measures



A while ago, I wrote a comedy script for a short film and, together with Jaime Escallon-Buraglia,  Elena Lombardi and the good folks at bravoFACT, we made a funny short film about a dysfunctional PTA.

It's part of the same world as the comedy series we are developing through NSI Totally TV. So, if you like what you see here, maybe someday you can see more in an actual series.

Here's the link. You can watch it on the bravoFACT site, like it on YouTube and share with anyone you think would like a laugh. Cheers.

http://www.bravofact.com/2014/11/10/parental-advisory-disciplinary-measures-2013/

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder?

Well, I sure hope so - I've been AWOL from this blog for almost a month now. I've got my excuses: laptop died; spent two weeks In-Country at Disneyworld and environs with the family; back to (new) school and sports try-out pressures; but, enough is enough. The break has allowed me to garner a ton of material that I plan on showering you with in the next while. But where to start?

Maybe I will start with how I am not a very good father. Some of my posts may come across as if I (think I) actually know what I am doing and am qualified to offer advice. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Perhaps my blog should be called Pop Culture: A Cautionary Tale.

I don't know about other dads out there but I recognize myself in depictions of awful dads in pop culture all the time. Dads seem always cast as dorks or villains these days. Are these our options now? I watch these depictions and cringe; is that really the way I am perceived? Is this to be my legacy - either a bitter angry guy offering bullshit advice and lessons to his kids or a dufus eunuch offering bullshit advice and lessons to his kids? How did it get from Leave it to Beaver to this state?

My kids screw around and break stuff, spill things or poke me in the eye - and I yell at them. Yes, I do. Loudly, at length and, by the end, I'm not making much sense. Why? I have told them countless times not to engage in certain behaviours for certain reasons. They don't listen and the result I predicted comes about, which costs me time, money or pain. So I yell. I know I shouldn't do it. It's of questionable utility and I am likely overreacting but I suffer from what a friend once described as Child Intolerance - similar to Lactose Intolerance, it's not so much I am allergic to my kids, it's that repeated exposure to them has caused me to quickly have an unpleasant reaction to minor doses of bone-headery. So, not Dad of the Year. But every time you see a Dad in a movie, TV show,  New Yorker short story, or in a Can Lit opus who yells at his kid, he can't just be a tired and flawed human being who might actually be a good parent otherwise - he is really an abusive, alcoholic guy who makes his kids' lives a living hell - and maybe is a pedophile, as well. Really? And if they're not yelling at their kids, Dads are apparently clueless and ineffective or remote and uninvolved in their kids' lives, at least in most media portrayals.

I went to see Boyhood, the new Richard Linklater film that is garnering critical praise and I was disappointed for a few reasons. Shot with the same actors over 12 years it charts the "boyhood' of the main character from about 5 to 17 years of age. Parts of the movie are fantastic observational pieces of film and the conceit of filming a Boy and his "parents" as they really age is brilliant. However, I found the movie to be too long, repetitive and self-indulgent. It would have benefitted immensely from being at least a half-hour shorter.

However what really disappointed me, again, is the portrayal of almost every single adult male in the film.  His absent Dad, as played by Ethan Hawke, is a feckless hipster. His redemption apparently comes later when grows a stupid moustache and buys a mini van in accordance with the needs of his second family and new born kid (The moustache is not redemptive, the minivan is supposedly; the moustache is just weird and incongruent and not even ironic.) The message in the movie is that a father is a foolish man who gives up what matters to him in order to look after his kids and openly mocks himself  for doing so, while also clearly regretting it. I call bullshit.

All the other males? Cartoons. The Boy's two stepdads rapidly go from being admirable, responsible males (unlike his dad) to embittered, self-hating alcoholics who hector the Boy for not being responsible or serious (WTF? BOTH of them?) - it was like seeing an Ann Marie MacDonald novel on the screen, absent a redeeming lesbian relationship. We very briefly meet a pompous, self-important teacher (whom we only ever see once) monologuing like a super villain about the Boy being irresponsible and lazy. Lastly, we meet an openly comic restaurant manager (one of my favourite characters but who seems more like he should be in School of Rock) who AGAIN lectures the Boy about being more responsible. All these guys are villains and/or losers.


There is an older step-grandfather whom we briefly meet and who seems to have a good bond with the Boy (of course, however, he's a devout Christian and gun lover  - it is set in Texas, don't forget.) but we never see him again. There's a LOT (too much) of the Boy with his first girlfriend. The first time you get laid is a big deal but it does not foretell your future or your life as a whole as much as your relationship with your parents. Perhaps I am expecting too much of TV, movies and books but it is just such a cliché. I get the feeling a lot of TV, film and book people had pretty lousy parents.

I am likely in a growing minority to have had my dad around for my whole life and him being a good role model - hardworking, supportive, fun and yet holding me to high standards. Further, I aspire to be that kind of dad myself (notwithstanding yelling at my kids for doing stupid stuff and telling them when they need to do better). I guess it's not as 'dramatic' as what you see in Boyhood, but that's what makes the movie so obviously (bad) fiction for me. I look around and I see a lot of dads doing their best and it gets no respect.

The last point I want to make about Boyhood is there is a reason why all those adult males are telling the Boy he is lazy and irresponsible. He is. He turns out to be a jerk-off sullen teenager "artiste" whose all-important girlfriend ends up dumping him because he is such a gloomy negative person. What does his Dad tell him? That it was her fault for dumping him for a University Varsity lacrosse player - he is an artist and she was never bright enough for him (the Boy). What? She chooses someone who is actually actively engaged in his life with goals and accomplishments over some moping proto-alcoholic/drug addict and she is the loser? The Dad should have told him years ago to get his head out of his ass, work hard to achieve some real goals or rather, he should have actually done that himself and shown his Boy what it means to be a real and admirable man. The fact is the Boy is turning into his Dad which, in this case, is dispiriting.

OK so I figured out what I a getting at (finally, eh?). It's classic writing advice: Show, Don't Tell. All of the men in this film needed to stop telling the Boy what he should be doing with his life and demonstrate it. I really would have liked Linklater to have given the Boy and the audience one  guy who did. I see them all the time in real life and it s a crock not to have one in this film. So,  that is my New (School)Year Resolution: More Show, Less Tell.

I hope that when I am no longer around, my kids look back on me fondly and have given them some sort of assistance in negotiating their own lives.