We're in the home stretch of the year, which means that most Hollywood heavy-hitting Oscar contenders are either out, or just about to come out (with a few notables that have already come and gone - to DVD). So, out of curiosity, and because I'm really not overwhelmingly excited about anything slated to debut in the next month and a half (nor was I too jazzed about anything in the ten and a half months before now), I decided to do some research, test the waters, and take the temperature of the current Oscar race. I did some googling and came up with a list - from various sources - of which movies are likely contenders, which might be upsets, and what movies are worth watching before the Oscars.
You're probably aware that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences earlier this year yet again changed the nomination voting system for Best Picture. Now, rather than a hard and fast 5 or 10 nominees, depending on the number of first place votes a film gets in the nomination round (it must receive at least 5% of the first place votes), it will be listed as a Best Picture Contender. Among the sites I read, the common consensus seems to be that we should expect seven (7) Best Picture nominees. So, I went with that.
I read - and actually put together a little spread sheet of contenders - the top picks list from Indie Wire, Reelz, the Awards Prophets, Entertainment Weekly, and the LA Times' blog The Insider. (It is worth noting that these lists will likely all change as more reviews come out and the climate evolves for each film. Not all articles were written around the same time, either; for example, the EW one is from August. But let's play along anyway.) With the exception of Entertainment Weekly's contributor's picks, the lists were ranked in order of most likely to take the top prize. Because so many focused on seve real competitors, I looked at the top seven from each of those to determine if there were any unanimously agreed upon choices. There were three:
The Descendants
War Horse
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
I will make it a point to see each of those. Among other notable contenders, Moneyball, Midnight in Paris, The Artist, and The Help were in the top seven for all but one of the four lists. So those goes up there. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo made two top seven lists.
When calling in the top ten, Tree of Life, appears three times, while J. Edgar and Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy garner two votes each (J. Edgar was lower on many lists, just FYI). Other notables include: Martha Marcy May Marlene, The Ides of March, A Dangerous Method, Young Adult, Hugo, and occasional shout-outs for The Iron Lady, Carnage, and We Bought a Zoo. Tin Tin is looking like the potential front runner for animated, assuming it qualifies for that category.
So what are the take-aways from this little project? First, I have to eat my words with the League, because I as convinced that Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 would earn a Lord of the Rings style nomination, yet it wasn't on any of the lists I looked at. Therefore, if you're trying to assemble your list of what to see before the 84th Academy Awards, as I am, then these are likely the fifteen you will want to focus on:
The Descendants
War Horse
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Moneyball
Midnight in Paris
The Artist
The Help
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Tree of Life
J. Edgar
A Dangerous Method
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy
Young Adult
Hugo
The Ides of March
Something's been weighing on my mind this past week. Call it a concern. Call it a question. Call it... guilt? either way, the newest idea I've come up with, one that I am actually very excited about and that my manager has responded quite positively toward, is causing me a bit of angst. The idea has to do with religion. My concern, is whether my treatment of it is sacrilegious.
Now, to preface, a bit of background on me. I'm not what you'd call the most religious person. By that, I mean that I didn't growing up going to church on a regular basis. (If the grandparents were in town, particularly for Christmas or Easter, then you better believe we were there looking our best, not to mention confused and bored.) Religion wasn't really discussed in my house; I can't quote any scripture, nor can I really paint a very vivid picture of the seminal Biblical events. That said, I also consider myself a believer. (Many of the Leaguers reading this are probably rereading that last sentence at this very moment - the image I bet they have of me is more likely that of an Agnostic, to be honest, if not Atheistic.) I do believe in a higher power, with reciprocal afterlife situations depending on one's behavior and actions. I don't want to get into the meat of what I believe and don't believe here, who I think gets "damned" and who doesn't. Suffice it to say, I am respectful and aware of the basic tenets of Christian theology and associate myself with at least some of them.
The new idea in question, then, invokes certain Biblical ideas. There's no direct naming of important figures; Jesus and God and the Devil will not appear on screen. We don't see angels. There's no talk of miracles or outward attempt to prove or comment on religion, Heaven, or any doctrinal debates. Rather, conceive of the idea more along the lines of Legion or Priest (admittedly, I have seen neither, nor do I envision Paul Bettany in my project, but hopefully that sheds some light on the overall integration of religion into the idea). Demons factor in, but not in the winged, pitchfork-wielding sense. Hell and souls are real in the world of the script, but dealt with in a more action, almost comic-book way. In short, I am invoking religion to create an action piece, and my concern - warranted or not - is whether that is a blasphemous act.
I could go further into depth about why I'm thinking about the nature of the script itself, but I won't. Whether that concern is inward (i.e., mine, regarding me) or not (i.e., dealing with the wider audience's reception to religious elements being treated in this manner) also seems a moot point now. Am I asking for an answer? I don't even know. I suppose the ultimate answer is that, if I am comfortable writing it, I should go forward with this idea. If not, then no. Yet I am excited by the concept. I feel it will offer me the opportunity to write some very interesting characters and quick, stimulating dialogue. I would be lying if I said I was not looking forward to working on this script.
So what is my take away? (What is yours?) Do I go ahead with this idea? Is it, in some way, blasphemous? The Bible has been a source of inspiration for a lot of pieces of art over the years - from paintings to prose to film to plays to sculptures and everything else imaginable. Should I be concerned that my usage of it is any different?
At a certain point, we as writers must draw a line in the sand. Where do we scrap an idea? Where do we turn to ourselves (inwardly, in the mirror, however), and acknowledge that we don't want to work on a certain project, that we're just not invested in it?
A couple weeks ago, I sent my manager a few (four, actually) ideas that I was thinking of working on. Of the four, one was a re-hash of an earlier period piece that I had spent a bit of time on (my horror spec). The other three were new. I was really stoked about one of them - a mystery/thriller set during World War 2 - before another idea came along that surpassed it - a murder mystery set in a unique hotel. The fourth was kind of a tossup, not something I was extremely gung-ho about, but something I could potentially get behind if need be.
My manager liked idea number four the best.
Admittedly, there are some issues with the others. Namely, the first two a period pieces; while one of them is relatively recent (my manager thought it sounded better suited to television, but we didn't discuss it further, so I don't know exactly where he's coming from - I'm curious to hear, though), it's still tough to get studios to sign off on non-contemporary scripts. The horror thriller is centuries old setting-wise, so that would be an even greater stretch.
This brings us to idea number four. It's sort of a revenge idea, but with a bit of a mystery and a bit of a twist. I still have an incredible amount of detail to figure out about it - in reality, the idea is quite nascent, so even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to go into greater specifics here. I just don't have them.
There we are, though. Idea number four. The contemporary revenge thriller with a twist. At this point, I feel like my best option - or, at the very least, my option until I come up with an idea I like better - is to flesh it out a bit more. Why not, right? I came up with it. I sent it to my manager. At some level, I must be interested in working on it.
At a certain point, we as writers must draw a line in the sand. Where do we scrap an idea? Where do we turn to ourselves (inwardly, in the mirror, however), and acknowledge that we don't want to work on a certain project, that we're just not invested in it?
More importantly, can we become invested in something that presents itself lukewarm at first? I'll let you know next week, after I work on developing the revenge spec for seven days.
All new writers (at least those that I have met) look forward to landing representation. We want an agent. We want a manager. We want a lawyer. We want the access and presumed instant success that all of those pledge.
The reality, for any of you hoping to land a combination of the above representatives, can paint a very different picture. For one, you feel compelled to run ideas - even just a kernel of an idea - past them. Something that's already in the works or too "out there" might not be worth their time. If it ain't worth their time, it most likely ain't worth yours (skip the part about it being inappropriate for the market; if they're not behind it, how hard do you think they will try to push it?).
Then, there's the whole process of - once you've gotten the idea approved - moving forward. Your rep might want to see a synopsis. Then an outline. Then pages. Only then, unfortunately, might he or she decide it's not as viable a spec as originally presented. Or something else is out there like it. Or they don't dig it. Granted, this can happen with anybody weighing in on your pages, from producers to writers group members, but it is somehow more frustrating, in my opinion, when it happens with your rep.
None of the above takes into account the fact that it can be difficult getting a response back from your representative. You might recall from earlier posts that I fired my first manager, because he would go months without getting in touch about whatever I had asked him. My current rep is better, though I feel like my project is cooling, and the response time is dragging out a bit. The only thing I can do is choose an idea and go forward with it; however, I'm reluctant to get too far into it, lest he say "oh, Universal's acquiring something just like it," thereby undoing all my progress. At the end of the day, progress undone is probably better than no progress at all, so I will sally forth.
I write the above not to be pessimistic or discourage any of you from getting/seeking representation. I hope you find it when you're in need and wish you a very healthy relationship with your agent/lawyer/manager/whoever. I also just urge caution, patience, and the knowledge that landing a rep doe not equal landing a sale, and that the battle is still uphill after that fortuitous day.
We writers are introspective creatures. We're observers. We note mannerisms on the micro level and human behavior on a macro one. Our eyes are trained to pick up signals, behaviors, and subtext. Regardless of whether we're writing giant, blow-em-up action specs or small living room dramas, our true practice is that of recording the quirks and subtleties of mankind. It fails to surprise, then, when our discerning eyes fall upon ourselves.
I have recently been doing a lot of self-reflection, observation, and analysis. It seems imperative that I ask myself certain big questions, to get the inner dialogue rolling so that I might answer them in a timely fashion. They seem monumental, because they are. Do I want to stay in New York? Should I change careers (or at least jobs, if not industries)? How long will I keep writing?
That last one is the true biggie, the Everest of questions a writer can ask him/her self. But the other two directly feed into that. The truth of the matter, which I've accepted for a while now, is that I'm not wedded to this city, and I do not believe that I will be here for years to come. A half a year to year and a half, tops. I think. A change in career or employment scenery is probably a guarantee (economy providing) too, if I can make it happen. All of that, naturally, goes to reinvigorate the writing juices, which if I am being completely honest, have frozen over a bit in the past few months.
Writing is no easy feat, especially when other things in your life seem trite. For me, the fact that the ideas I have strike my manager as not exactly commercially viable at the moment is a hard blow to my creative drive, also. He comes from a point of reason and logic when assessing whether something is worth the time to write now or not (from an industry point of view). So I am forced to ask myself yet another question; do I write against his advice, because that's the story I want to tell? As much as maybe I shouldn't be, I am torn on this point. Part of me thinks, "yes," because that is what true artists do. They say what they must. Yet, on the other hand, I think, "no," I am too young to work against the current yet, that while I still have people on my team who are going to try and put their neck out there for me as long as the product warrants it, then I should do us both the favor of matching my scripts to the industry's pulse.
Naturally, the common ground is to find an idea that I like, which is within the scope of what my manager thinks can sell now. That's tough, but that's what I'm doing. I'd like to get him three ideas. So far, I've come up with two. The last one's on me.
A while back, we reviewed UCLA Screenwriting Chairman Richard Walter's book, Essentials of Screenwriting. Well, now we're happy to let you know that we've found out that the man himself, Richard Walter, will be here in the city tomorrow (!) to give a free talk and workshop to all those interested. I'm even told that he has also offered to read the scripts of writers who purchase a copy of his book at the event.
The talk is free and open to the public. It will take place from 7:00 to 8:00PM on Friday, October 21, 2011 at the Barnes and Noble Bookstore located at 86th and Lexington Avenue.
To guarantee priority seating, it is recommended to RSVP on the event's Facebook page and to purchase a copy of his book at Barnes and Noble.
Ideas are not flexible. They are set in stone. That gem of a thought that will lead to the (your) next best screenplay is priceless and incorruptible. It comes as is, or it ceases to be. You won't budge on it, because you shouldn't. And anyone who fails to see the genius that it is clearly just doesn't get it. They never will, so you can forget about trying to show them the light. It's their loss if they ask you to change something. Their loss, and their admission of simple-mindedness.
My manager called me last week to discuss an idea I had emailed him about, which Jon (known here as Onyx) and I are working on. He was interested in what I sent him, but yet he had a few concerns about it. Mainly, he felt as though there were too many components to it. We were compounding three movies into one, with disparate elements that - while they might function fine together - could be separated and reduced to streamline plot and efficiency. He didn't outright say no to anything, but he wasn't overwhelmingly sold on the complete package yet, either.
Ideas are malleable. They are fluid, and they evolve based on the needs of the script at hand. A character might not be working, his intentions unclear and ultimately detracting from the script. A plot point might not make sense. The decision to kill off the protagonist will prove itself unmerited, and the result is a grim screenplay without a sense of hope (and therefore, higher sale potential) that comes from allowing your hero to live. The genius idea that birthed the story might falter, but the supporting elements around it can carry the weight, rendering the golden nugget tarnished and unnecessary. Not everything works, and as much as you might love a line or scene or character or other part o an idea, knowing when to let the weak link go is essential to your job as a writer.
Jon and I discussed my manager's feedback briefly (we'll have a longer chat about it later when not both so busy). The main trouble with the outline we presented was the key aspect of the story Jon brought to me - a setup for the overall story, which fades from the setting about halfway through the script. As much as we liked it, as much as we both felt that the foundation for the script was unique and interesting, we both acknowledged that it also added elements to the story that we could remove, without losing much later. Something happens to our protagonist, and he finds himself in undesirable circumstances. The particulars of those circumstances, however, can change. We went one way to start with, but though we both liked it, we know we're not wedded to it.
It's hard to let an idea go sometimes. Others, the kernel that got the ball rolling can be sufficient as just that; once the idea is more fully formed, you're free to move away from it and to let the project evolve as it needs to. Still, there are other instances in which deciphering that line - when do you hang tight, versus when do you drop something - can be extremely, agonizingly difficult. What do you think? When do you concede on an idea?
