The system of "magic"

So, I've been thinking about two things regarding The Magician Upstairs: The system of magic, and the nature of the story.

See, the story I want to tell--as I've discussed in earlier posts--is that of how magic comes into the world for the first time, but more importantly, how magic comes into the life of one, not so special, guy. The more I think about it the more I want to tell a story about the magic IN life, the magic that has ALWAYS existed. I think that the best way to tell such a story is by telling a story about "magic." But, I'm afraid that People in the Know would say that such a story isn't commercial enough; it's almost a drama (as I imagine it). But, then I think of how Charlie Kaufman has managed to create such entertaining scripts/films/stories out of, seemingly, uncommercial material. I mean, take Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind--I loved the film. It was sweet, melancholy, thoughtful stuff, which held me riveted for the duration. But, on paper, as a logline, it would've seemed...uncommercial to say the least. After all, it's the story of a guy who can't stand to remember the love he's lost, so he has his memory erased...but while undergoing the procedure, realizes how much even the memory of the love and the associated pain means to him. He fights back--struggling to retain his memory, to retain the pain of lost love.

The danger I'm sure that story faced, in its inception, was of others telling him that maybe he'd started the story too early. That he should cut out all the drama of the main characters human condition and get right to the fight to retain his memory. However, it's the human condition of the story that makes it so poignant. It's the fact that we love the characters, and feel like our happiness is inseparably connected to theirs that makes us care when Carrey fights to retain the pain in the face of impending oblivion.

Such is the tone I desire for my Magician Upstairs story. I want to establish, poignantly, the human condition of my character; a character who doesn't see himself as worth much to society, a character who feels lost in the face of our high-speed world, a character who doesn't see the magic of life around him, a character who has no place...and yet, a character who wants to have meaning and purpose, a character who wants to fit in--to have the house, white picket fence, wife, 2.5 kids, a dog, a character at the end of his rope--as so many of us feel on a day to day basis.

I want to honor our lives in my story; I want to somehow present the nature of our mundane human existence in a bewitching, interesting, entertaining way--like Kaufman does; I want to reveal the magic of life, through a story of how a character gaining "magic" discovers, to his (and our--as the audience) great joy and satisfaction.

I don't ever want to settle for writing stories which are trite. I guess that's a needless worry, given my passion for stories that matter. I guess my fear is of expressing the power of my ideas in a less than relevant, poignant manner. I fear not doing them justice.

My second concern is how to represent the system of magic, and how to reveal the magic in life. My current idea is relatively good, I think. Basically it boils down to this: all of life: every creature, object, person, and action is tied connected. This connection looks kind of like a silver filament between everything; a web, if you will. These filaments are constantly being created, disrupted, and manipulated on a daily basis. A hunter ends a life by severing the filament bonding the creature's life to the whole of nature. A person falls in love with another person through the creation, and artful strumming of the newly created filament.

Our main characters power is essentially the manipulation of these filaments. And here's the kicker, his "power" requires everything else. Without others (plants, animals, people, objects, nature, life, the whole of our existence) his power is useless.

I'm thinking, as I've already mentioned, that these filaments are like strings. "Magic" is worked by plucking them--singly or in chords, at various places along the filament. You can disrupt by severing or creating discord, create by harmonizing.

I love this idea because it lends a musical and strongly auditory element to the story. In such a film, the music would be essential, rather than merely used for atmospheric effect. Which begs the question: how would a score fit into the film? Would it have to do without a score, period? Or, could a score be crafted to accentuate, and strengthen the underlying themes of magic through the playing of the filaments?

What's the problem?

Well, in some regards, an idea like mine treads on territory already trod by The Matrix films--at least in the sense that there's something underlying reality. But, I guess that territory was trod even before The Matrix. Science has long known that everything in life is more arrangement of atoms. I guess the Matrix represented the concept as code, and I represent it as musical filaments which are connected.

Would my visual representation of the filaments feel like too much of a knock-off to an audience, though? I worry about that.