On Monday, I went to another of the Screenwriters Meetups here in the Big Apple. As it had been with the last meeting Zombie and I attended, I had to read a script and come ready to critique it. The script, very much an indie flick, generated almost as much discussion on the structure of indie films as it did on itself. The overwhelming consensus among the other attendees of the Meetup, which I disagree with wholeheartedly, is that indie films do not need structure.
I was sitting there shaking my head as some of the other people – I won’t begin to speculate as to anyone’s experience (or lack thereof) with screenwriting – defended the script’s passive protagonist and lack of tension by saying that indie movies do not need traditional cinematic devices (such as a climax). The script essentially flat lined at the end of act one. It was supposed to be a romantic drama about two people struggling to get their lives together. Yet there was never any sense that the characters were really fighting for anything. If they got separated, they didn’t seem to mind. If they were homeless, they were just as happy as if they had a roof over their heads. The script, if anything, ebbed and flowed, but it did not build. The stakes were never raised. The characters never fought for anything, and at the final FADE OUT, they were no different than when we were first introduced to them.
I say all that about the script not to criticize it – there was a lot I liked about it – but to give you the necessary background for why I was so frustrated with other peoples’ notion that all of those flaws were OK, since this is an indie spec. I was amazed by how willing people were to love a script that didn’t build, simply because it would most likely play in art-house theaters if made. No producer, at least none I can think of, is going to buy a script with flat characters and story because it’s indie. Indie films, contrary to what people were saying, often do follow traditional structure, but are so well crafted that the act breaks are not immediately noticeable. The characters are so engaging you’re alternating between looking away from the screen because you don’t want to see them hurt and clinging to the edge of your seat, because you can’t wait to see what’s next.
It’s a dangerous trap to fall into to let yourself believe that independent movies are free to completely discard format and structure. While indie movies are more frequently about “normal people” than most blockbusters are, normal people do not go see movies about normal people not learning lessons or doing anything interesting. It’s not a form of escape. And producers are well aware of the fact that independent movies, which run on limited screens in limited cities, cost just as much if not more per ticket as do blockbusters playing on 3,000 screens across the country. Independent films might be much closer to home thematically than say, Max Payne or The Dark Knight, but they’re still movies. They still require structure.
Scott Tobias recently posted a great interview with the ever-enlightening Charlie Kaufman over at the AVClub. I always love hearing this guy talk about his writing and the writing process, if only to hear something beyond the traditional character arc and three-act structure dialogue that most writers will get into when prodded about what makes them intriguing writers. That stuff is all important, but it's nice to hear things that weren't part of every screenwriting class or book that you've already managed to devour.
Kaufman talks about his writing, his new movie, and interesting (considering all of our recent discussion on here about giving up our babies) directing your screenplay for the first time. As a frustratingly slow writer, here's one of my favorite, most reassuring bits of the interview:
AVC: You don't seem like the sort of writer who has a set of note cards and knows what's going to happen in every scene, but your movies are very intricately constructed. How do you pull that off?
CK: I take a very long time to write them. By doing that, I can allow myself to be expansive. As ideas come in, I can include them and then go back and figure out how to introduce them. So it's an ongoing process of back and forth and back and forth until I have a script. In this case, that took two years. So by the end, I'm pretty clear on it. I don't need cards to know where things are, and I start to understand relationships not only between people, but between parts of the movie, in new ways, and that's exciting for me. It keeps me excited about the process, and it allows for a certain amount of complexity in the construction. You know, it's weird: If you set up something early on as a structure or a goal, then that's what you write toward, and there's no opportunity to allow other stuff in. So you end up saying, "I can't do this, because this movie goes here." That doesn't interest me, and it doesn't feel exciting to work that way. So I don't.
So, while tinkering with PhotoShop yesterday, I decided to take a stab at working up a cover for SILENT CITY. Above is what I came up with. Thoughts? Am I being pretentious by even posting this?
Obviously, the images need to be a bit more hi-res and the smudging may work better as a dark red (Blood! Get it?), but overall I was pretty happy with the end result.
I also blacked out my name (which would be under the "A NOVEL" line) for obvious reasons.
There comes a time when all writers have a baby. Most will have upwards of a dozen, probably more. I’m not talking the kind you raise, send off to college, and get betrayed by with an impractical career choice in screenwriting. I’m talking about the kind of baby you polish, develop, and shop. It’s the flagship script of your writing fleet, the current piece that you feel best represents you as a writer, the script that can get you on the map if you haven’t been discovered. Like people are with their firstborn, writers are usually pretty protective of this script...or novel. (just for you King Suckerman) A few times in conversations with my peers I’ve been very surprised by just how protective we can be of these works and how firmly we may stand by what we believe to be the value of the script. We insist that we won’t give in to any high powered exec’s offer unless it’s the offer we believe in. I think about these conversations and wonder what we sound like to those established in the industry, or what we might sound like to anybody. Are we cocky or confident? Are we smart or just young?
When it comes to protecting a script, I remember a time within the last few years when some of my peers, myself included, were uber distrustful of contests, queries, any type of release form, and most outsider’s eyes. It became second nature to expect that the industry was just a field of predators waiting to feast on our darling projects. It was kind of suffocating now that I think back to it, feeling like I would never have another “baby” and that I wouldn’t find success until some yellow brick road within the industry presented itself and steered me away from the predators. I’m not really in a position to give many writers advice, but if you’re young or just starting out down this path, I hope I can save you some time with a few crunchy nuggets of insight. One of my favorite screenwriting sayings is that “a great script will get made.” There are variations, maybe it’s come to you as “if you have a great script, somebody will find it.” I always found this very comforting, but in reality it’s kind of bullshit, because your great script won’t go anywhere on its own unless it grows legs and a silver tongue. It’s up to you to put your baby out there, so if the script is ready and it’s protected, no sense in aging it on a shelf like it’s an Australian shiraz.
I’m sure there are still many dangers in the industry, but to my friends and I it’s no longer the sinister villain that only exists to steal young writers’ material. Scripts need to be pushed into the field of play. The League has a lot of fun sharing our work with each other in writing meetings, but it’s more fun to place in competitions and be contacted by management and production companies. Good luck Cake Man!
In terms of script protection I feel like The League has matured a great deal. We understand that scripts need to be protected, but that no script can be protected entirely. We also understand that we have to let those birds fly. But I personally feel the urge to question (or explore rather) our sense of what’s realistic when we say that we wouldn’t sell our baby for less than six figures or that we wouldn’t sell a script unless we could own the rights to the characters. I wonder if these sort of things can’t be perceived in a positive light until you manage to pull it off. Nobody is laughing now at what Sylvester Stallone did with Rocky when he refused to sell the script unless he got to play the lead, but is it possible that there was anybody out there praising Sly for his intelligence, his determination, or his confidence before he landed the role? I guess you can play it safe or play it bold. The League is fortunate enough to have a diverse group of writers who have different approaches. We’ll all have the benefit of observing first hand the successes and drawbacks in each others tactics when we eventually find ourselves negotiating the fate of our firstborn. I have a feeling that day will come sooner than later.
PS
Warner Bros wants to buy your baby for $25,000. Rumor has it that a big star is interested in the lead role, but nothing is confirmed. The only guarantee is that you’ll have 25 grand before tax, a screenplay sale under your belt, and some new Hollywood contacts. Would you sell your baby?
In 1972, a plane filled with cheerful, well-to-do young men, leaving Uruguay for a rugby game in Chile, crashed in a remote part of the Andes. STRANDED recreates the extraordinary experience of the 29 who initially survived the crash, followed by two months of cold, hunger and despair. Now, decades later, the men who found their way out of this frozen hell tell their story to documentarian (and childhood friend) Gonzalo Arijon in a film that eschews both sensationalism and sentimentality. These events were the subject of the 1973 worldwide best-seller, Alive, as well as a feature film, but STRANDED is the definitive, haunting version of this profoundly moving drama. Winner of the Grand Prize at the International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam (IDFA).
There will be a Q&A with filmmaker Gonzalo Arijon and plane crash survivor Fito Strauch on October 22nd, 23rd, and 24th at the Film Forum, following the 6:40 PM shows.
Last time, I decided to plop in front of my television and watch my latest NetFlix delivery: Street Kings, starring our pal, Keanu Reeves. The movie was middling at best.
Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, on the other hand, is a great movie. The kind of movie I know I'll watch again just because I enjoyed it so much and to catch the nuances that pervade almost every aspect of the film: the dialogue, the camera angles, the acting (!) -- pretty much every aspect.
The movie tells the tale of two brothers, Hank (Ethan Hawke) and Andy (the amazing Philip Seymour Hoffman). Andy's in deep shit at work for doctoring the numbers to feed a growing heroin addiction. Hank is painfully behind on his child-support payments to his daughter Danielle and his crabby ex (played with aplomb by The Wire and Gone, Baby Gone vet Amy Ryan). Then Andy hatches a plan to knock off their parents' suburban jewelry store. Sounds simple enough, right? The brothers fence the goods, the parents are protected by their insurance. But in the first few scenes, things go horribly wrong.
But Devil is more than a mere heist flick. It's less about the actual robbery and more about the players and those surrounding them. Two desperate men, hoping that a quick infusion of cash will fix not only their monetary problems, but absolve their faults -- addiction, infidelity and a fractured family.
Hoffman is his usual amazing self. Much like his character in The Savages, Hoffman brings a controlled and quiet desperation to Andy, who seems to have everything together on the surface, but is clearly about to burst from the stress. Hawke is admirable as Hank, the younger, bumbling brother who can't seem to stop his life from spiraling into disarray. The two play off each other well, and it's in those scenes where Hawke elevates his work, perhaps to meet the challenge of Hoffman.
I have to give some credit to Marisa Tomei here. She plays Andy's wife with an air of shaky desperation and sex appeal that the role demands. And while she doesn't have much screen time (or clothed time, come to think of it), she manages to make the best of her moments, especially toward the end of the film, as the plot careens toward its tragic climax. Thumbs up go to Albert Finney as well, who plays father to the troubled siblings. All in all, every actor is cast sharply, with very little of the celebrity disconnect that seems to litter a lot of movies these days. "Oh, Tom Cruise is in this!"
The script is tight and moves crisply, benefiting from it's non-linear structure. Had the story been presented chronologically, it may have ended up as a serviceable drama. Toward the end, it does settle into a more traditional format. But the finished version really generates more momentum with the choppy, out-of-order scene rollout. Even the slight overlapping bits of character interaction add to the overall feel of the film, one of lost control and frantic reactions.
Lumet's work is stellar. Beyond the structure, the camera angles, movement and lighting add a gritty, realistic feel to the work, but not in a ham-fisted, "this is important, so you must watch!" way. Everything seems real enough, and that's the point. The characters react in realistic ways to realistic problems. Once their reactions lead them down a dark path, they deal with those consequences in an equally real way. It's a heart-wrenching and frightening movie, but not in the ways you'd first think. This is a tale of two people at the end of their rope and the family and loved ones they drag down with them.
SuckerFlix Grade: A Next Week: After Dark, My Sweet
The Screenwriters League is a collective of NYC-based writers sharing their experiences as they build their careers from the ground up, and hoping to impart any knowledge they gain along the way.
