Showing posts with label Dough. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dough. Show all posts
Friday, 8 June 2012
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Does this make me official?
Yesterday I discovered this
Smallest profile ever.
But hey, it's a start. And in the words of David Brent - coolio
:)
Smallest profile ever.
But hey, it's a start. And in the words of David Brent - coolio
:)
Wednesday, 16 February 2011
Dough-tastic
Some DOUGH news, at last. Have been bursting to share this but had to wait until it was official and on the Viva Films website.
And Merveille Lukeba is attached to play Muslim cannabis dealer Ayyash Habimana.
And if that wasn't weird enough - Mark Knopfler OBE, former Dire Straits lead guitarist, vocalist, songwriter and all round music legend - is attached for the film score.
It's all getting a bit exciting now. I'm over the moon with the casting. There are not that many actors around that can play Nat and Jonathan Pryce is an excellent choice. I'm delighted he likes the script enough to want to do it. He's a British institution and eerily, even looks a bit like how I thought Nat should.
Once we'd nailed the character of Ayyash, Merv was always our first choice. The script was basically written for him and my rather gushing review of his performance in SKINS is now a bit embarrassing having met him. I'm pretty sure he has better things to do though than read my blog so I think I'm safe.
And the involvement of Knopfler. Well that was just something Producer/Director John Goldschmidt pulled out of the hat and it feels rather odd that someone who is a legend in their field wants to invest his time, experience and talent working on something I wrote.
As William Thacker might say, nice... surreal, but nice.
Sunday, 31 October 2010
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
Comedy, and a bit with a dog
I went to see Tamara Drewe last night and a couple of interesting things happened (possible spoilers coming)
Firstly, the film is a comedy. Most of the people in the cinema were laughing consistently all the way through. But towards the end the film either veers into black comedy, or turns away from comedy all together and becomes a drama to deliver an emotional pay off - I'm not quite sure which. But during this sequence a man gets trampled to death by a stampeding herd of cows - and there was a fair bit of laughter scattered across the cinema, including from the lady sitting next to me. A few minutes later and a dog got shot - and the same lady was literally covering her eyes she could barely begin to look. How very British.
Second thing - I was in the loo afterwards and overheard a couple of gents talking.
Gent 1: So what did you think?
Gent 2: Was alright. Quite funny in parts
Gent 1: Yeah
Gent 2: Gave up caring half way through though
Gent 1: I know what you mean
Whether I agree or disagree is not the point. What occurred to me was that (A) had I been the writer and overheard that I probably would've thrown up in the toilet there and then - and (B) everyone is going to have an opinion about the work you produce. And you are never, ever going to please all of the people all of the time.
So commiserations to those who got a pass from Red Planet yesterday - it really doesn't neccessarily mean your work is no good. And of course congrats to those who made it through.
Tonight sees the onset of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. It was almost a year ago that I started work on Dough and I realise I haven't updated you in a while. Well the script is basically finished (as much as any script can be whilst it's not actually been shot and edited.) It took virtually the whole year to go from outline, to treatment to many drafts (not telling how many) to get to the final one. And now starts the fun and games of trying to package it, as they say, and actually make it.
But for me, whilst I'm still working closely with Viva Films during that process, it's time to properly start a new project. Because juggling Dough, my part time job, my reading work, and life, has meant that I haven't really written anything else for a year. (aside from some pitch documents, one pagers etc.) I know what I'm going to work on. And I'll will keep in mind the lessons learned from last night.
Keep the audience laughing, keep them caring - and whatever you do, don't shoot a dog.
Firstly, the film is a comedy. Most of the people in the cinema were laughing consistently all the way through. But towards the end the film either veers into black comedy, or turns away from comedy all together and becomes a drama to deliver an emotional pay off - I'm not quite sure which. But during this sequence a man gets trampled to death by a stampeding herd of cows - and there was a fair bit of laughter scattered across the cinema, including from the lady sitting next to me. A few minutes later and a dog got shot - and the same lady was literally covering her eyes she could barely begin to look. How very British.
Second thing - I was in the loo afterwards and overheard a couple of gents talking.
Gent 1: So what did you think?
Gent 2: Was alright. Quite funny in parts
Gent 1: Yeah
Gent 2: Gave up caring half way through though
Gent 1: I know what you mean
Whether I agree or disagree is not the point. What occurred to me was that (A) had I been the writer and overheard that I probably would've thrown up in the toilet there and then - and (B) everyone is going to have an opinion about the work you produce. And you are never, ever going to please all of the people all of the time.
So commiserations to those who got a pass from Red Planet yesterday - it really doesn't neccessarily mean your work is no good. And of course congrats to those who made it through.
Tonight sees the onset of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. It was almost a year ago that I started work on Dough and I realise I haven't updated you in a while. Well the script is basically finished (as much as any script can be whilst it's not actually been shot and edited.) It took virtually the whole year to go from outline, to treatment to many drafts (not telling how many) to get to the final one. And now starts the fun and games of trying to package it, as they say, and actually make it.
But for me, whilst I'm still working closely with Viva Films during that process, it's time to properly start a new project. Because juggling Dough, my part time job, my reading work, and life, has meant that I haven't really written anything else for a year. (aside from some pitch documents, one pagers etc.) I know what I'm going to work on. And I'll will keep in mind the lessons learned from last night.
Keep the audience laughing, keep them caring - and whatever you do, don't shoot a dog.
Sunday, 16 May 2010
Did you hear that?
I've been a bit quiet of late, mainly due to being quite busy and/or unwell. I had a virus, then a cold, then thought I was getting better so went back to work, and am now worse with flu. So I'm doing all the right things; resting (i.e catching up on TV and movies) drinking hot drinks and taking paracetamol. But I find that if I don't write something I still get a bit antsy. My head is far too fuzzy for any constructive work but I thought I'd chance a little blog. (So please excuse any incoherence)
As the DOUGH script nears completion (as much as any script ever does) we decided to have a read through. The only previous experience I've had of this sort of thing was with THE STORYTELLER at the International Emmys. On that occasion half a dozen Broadway actors brought my words to life... whilst I just sat there in a surreal daze trying to take it all in. So although I don't think either John, Jonathan or myself would claim to have much in the way of acting skills, we gamely set about the task. They took on the two leads and I read all the rest. And it was an incredibly useful exercise.
For one thing, if you read in a natural, evenly paced way, you build up a momentum and you can really see the rhythm of a script in a way you might not have done before. Scene to scene, whole sequences or even just enclosed in one scene, you get an idea of what is flowing and working, and what is not. Also, people tend to read what they think is there on the page, rather than what is. It may be small changes and nuances, but the gut, instinctive line of dialogue tends to be better and more natural than the one you originally wrote.
I plan on having a reading of all my scripts now. All you need is a few friends, get some snacks in, and you'll probably all have a laugh. And you might just learn something about the script you've been slaving over for a few months but that has never been lifted off the page. Yes there is a certain amount of exposure in this. You're laying it all out there, and putting it on the line. But we all know a thick skin is an absolute necessity in this business anyway. So just do it. And if it's crap, don't blame the would be actors. Think about why it didn't sound out loud like it did in your head. If you can be honest with yourself it will make the next draft so much better, so much sharper, and having gone through the reading, you'll be all the more confident about it.
Now hand me those tablets and put the kettle on again, please.
As the DOUGH script nears completion (as much as any script ever does) we decided to have a read through. The only previous experience I've had of this sort of thing was with THE STORYTELLER at the International Emmys. On that occasion half a dozen Broadway actors brought my words to life... whilst I just sat there in a surreal daze trying to take it all in. So although I don't think either John, Jonathan or myself would claim to have much in the way of acting skills, we gamely set about the task. They took on the two leads and I read all the rest. And it was an incredibly useful exercise.
For one thing, if you read in a natural, evenly paced way, you build up a momentum and you can really see the rhythm of a script in a way you might not have done before. Scene to scene, whole sequences or even just enclosed in one scene, you get an idea of what is flowing and working, and what is not. Also, people tend to read what they think is there on the page, rather than what is. It may be small changes and nuances, but the gut, instinctive line of dialogue tends to be better and more natural than the one you originally wrote.
I plan on having a reading of all my scripts now. All you need is a few friends, get some snacks in, and you'll probably all have a laugh. And you might just learn something about the script you've been slaving over for a few months but that has never been lifted off the page. Yes there is a certain amount of exposure in this. You're laying it all out there, and putting it on the line. But we all know a thick skin is an absolute necessity in this business anyway. So just do it. And if it's crap, don't blame the would be actors. Think about why it didn't sound out loud like it did in your head. If you can be honest with yourself it will make the next draft so much better, so much sharper, and having gone through the reading, you'll be all the more confident about it.
Now hand me those tablets and put the kettle on again, please.
Monday, 19 April 2010
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Location, Location, Location
Last Sunday me, co-writer Jonathan Benson and producer/director John Goldschmidt went on a field trip. Actually, we went location scouting. I should clarify. This has absolutely nothing to do with shooting anything. We are still a long way off that. But it became apparent when looking at the last draft, that there was both a lack of visual information in the script, and not a good enough sense of place.
So we went to have a look at one. It may not be the area the actual film is set in, and almost certainly wouldn't be somewhere to shoot in, but for reasons I can't go into, it resonated with the world of the fictional story we had created.
From a writing point of view, I found it really useful. I often find myself in the habit of being able to visualise something in my head, and therefore, because I have managed this extraordinary feet, assume that somehow everyone who reads the script will have the same picture in theirs. This of course is ridiculous. Whilst you have to be wary of the dangers of overwriting, nothing can be assumed. The only way to convey visual images is to write them on the page. I think this is a weakness in my screenwriting and with the help of the others, I am working really hard on this.
Because it doesn't really matter where your story is set. A real place, a fictional somewhere that mirrors a real place, the wild west, outer space or Middle Earth. It's got to be plausible. It's often said that screenwriting is not about making up stories or creating characters. It's about creating a world, and then letting all the rest happen in that place. But it's going to be really difficult to do that if you don't know what your world looks like.
I've got a better idea of the one we're working on now. And the next draft has got to be done this weekend. I hope it pays off.
So we went to have a look at one. It may not be the area the actual film is set in, and almost certainly wouldn't be somewhere to shoot in, but for reasons I can't go into, it resonated with the world of the fictional story we had created.
From a writing point of view, I found it really useful. I often find myself in the habit of being able to visualise something in my head, and therefore, because I have managed this extraordinary feet, assume that somehow everyone who reads the script will have the same picture in theirs. This of course is ridiculous. Whilst you have to be wary of the dangers of overwriting, nothing can be assumed. The only way to convey visual images is to write them on the page. I think this is a weakness in my screenwriting and with the help of the others, I am working really hard on this.
Because it doesn't really matter where your story is set. A real place, a fictional somewhere that mirrors a real place, the wild west, outer space or Middle Earth. It's got to be plausible. It's often said that screenwriting is not about making up stories or creating characters. It's about creating a world, and then letting all the rest happen in that place. But it's going to be really difficult to do that if you don't know what your world looks like.
I've got a better idea of the one we're working on now. And the next draft has got to be done this weekend. I hope it pays off.
Saturday, 23 January 2010
A New Hope
Last week, in this order, was the 2nd script meeting for Dough, propelling us into now writing the 3rd draft, followed by sending my first scripts off to LA, followed by my birthday, followed by me setting up a couple of meetings in the coming weeks.
1st the script meeting. It went well, was good fun, clarified uncertainty, and threw up new ideas and angles we hadn't even thought about. Once again we were armed with notes from readers, as well as our own thoughts. The script moved on a lot from 1st to 2nd draft. It's a lot tighter. But from here on in is where I think we (the writers) will earn our dough. It's from here I think that the men are separated from the boys (or ladies from girls, whatever.) Because, as Julian Friedmann is want of saying, good enough is not good enough. What we do now, the attention to detail and wringing out as much as possible from every single sequence, scene, line and character, will make the difference from a good script to a great one. That's not arrogance. That's what we are all trying for with every single script, isn't it? To write something great. It's really hard. Maybe we won't get there. But we're gonna have a helluva go.
Then the scripts. It's a big, big company... in LA and everything. I've not done this before. New York, yes. But not the motherland. Again, I tell you this not to give it the big I am. My point is that how does a schnook like me, sitting here in London, with no credits or agent, even get this shot? Only one answer. Being in the room. The room on this occasion was in New York in November back at the International Emmys. I spoke to someone who spoke to someone else. And that was it. Regular readers will know how I got in that particular room. But that's irrelevant. The room can be anywhere. Anyone who was at The Screenwriters' Festival was undoubtedly in any number of 'rooms' over the course of three days. 'Rooms' pop up all the time, mostly in London, but in other parts of the country too. Writers need to seek them out and get into them, by any (legal!) means necessary. I caught the show Spielberg on Spielberg on ITV4(!?) the other day. He said how he used to sneak onto the Universal Studios lot as a kid, dressed in his barmitzvah suit, so he didn't look out of place (cos back then everyone wore suits to work - which is ironic considering now the richer one is the more casual they are apparently allowed to dress to work!) I'm not suggesting anyone tries this nowadays. But hey... you do what you gotta do to get in the room and meet the people who can make a difference to your career.
Because if you have nowhere to send your scripts, it's self gratification. Okay that might be a bit harsh - but it's definitely a hobby. It's certainly not the building blocks to a career. I am under no illusions. A lengthy phone 'meeting' with the director of this company means I am already aware that the likelihood is nothing will happen with these script, for various reasons. But they'll get read. And hopefully they will be liked. And then I'm on the radar. It's always, always, about the long game.
But every single one of these things is a little new hope. Of course they hurt when they don't come off. But I wouldn't change that for not having these encounters. That frustration would be far worse.
And so to the meetings. They are exciting. Maybe everything, maybe nothing. I got them by networking and backing that up with the work, the script(s). So here is my five point guide to the possibility of a screenwriting career.
1. Read scripts (remember to get involved with David Melkevik's script club)
2. Write scripts
3. Get feedback (from peers, Power of 3, professional readers, I don't care)
4. Rewrite scripts
5. Network
Everything else is just commentary.
Oh wait, except, did I mention it was my birthday?
1st the script meeting. It went well, was good fun, clarified uncertainty, and threw up new ideas and angles we hadn't even thought about. Once again we were armed with notes from readers, as well as our own thoughts. The script moved on a lot from 1st to 2nd draft. It's a lot tighter. But from here on in is where I think we (the writers) will earn our dough. It's from here I think that the men are separated from the boys (or ladies from girls, whatever.) Because, as Julian Friedmann is want of saying, good enough is not good enough. What we do now, the attention to detail and wringing out as much as possible from every single sequence, scene, line and character, will make the difference from a good script to a great one. That's not arrogance. That's what we are all trying for with every single script, isn't it? To write something great. It's really hard. Maybe we won't get there. But we're gonna have a helluva go.
Then the scripts. It's a big, big company... in LA and everything. I've not done this before. New York, yes. But not the motherland. Again, I tell you this not to give it the big I am. My point is that how does a schnook like me, sitting here in London, with no credits or agent, even get this shot? Only one answer. Being in the room. The room on this occasion was in New York in November back at the International Emmys. I spoke to someone who spoke to someone else. And that was it. Regular readers will know how I got in that particular room. But that's irrelevant. The room can be anywhere. Anyone who was at The Screenwriters' Festival was undoubtedly in any number of 'rooms' over the course of three days. 'Rooms' pop up all the time, mostly in London, but in other parts of the country too. Writers need to seek them out and get into them, by any (legal!) means necessary. I caught the show Spielberg on Spielberg on ITV4(!?) the other day. He said how he used to sneak onto the Universal Studios lot as a kid, dressed in his barmitzvah suit, so he didn't look out of place (cos back then everyone wore suits to work - which is ironic considering now the richer one is the more casual they are apparently allowed to dress to work!) I'm not suggesting anyone tries this nowadays. But hey... you do what you gotta do to get in the room and meet the people who can make a difference to your career.
Because if you have nowhere to send your scripts, it's self gratification. Okay that might be a bit harsh - but it's definitely a hobby. It's certainly not the building blocks to a career. I am under no illusions. A lengthy phone 'meeting' with the director of this company means I am already aware that the likelihood is nothing will happen with these script, for various reasons. But they'll get read. And hopefully they will be liked. And then I'm on the radar. It's always, always, about the long game.
But every single one of these things is a little new hope. Of course they hurt when they don't come off. But I wouldn't change that for not having these encounters. That frustration would be far worse.
And so to the meetings. They are exciting. Maybe everything, maybe nothing. I got them by networking and backing that up with the work, the script(s). So here is my five point guide to the possibility of a screenwriting career.
1. Read scripts (remember to get involved with David Melkevik's script club)
2. Write scripts
3. Get feedback (from peers, Power of 3, professional readers, I don't care)
4. Rewrite scripts
5. Network
Everything else is just commentary.
Oh wait, except, did I mention it was my birthday?
Friday, 20 November 2009
Big Apples
I'm in New York. Hurrah. This year it's just mainly for a holiday. But as luck would have it, the International Emmys are this Sunday so I thought I would swing by, see some old friends, and meet my worthy Ustinov successor, Clare Tonkin!
I'll report back on that and more from the festival next week.
I'm back in London on Dec 1st so won't be reading scripts until then. But I'm happy to take bookings for when I return. Contact me as usual on jezfreedman"at"hotmail.co.uk
A couple of thoughts in the meantime. I was listening to an online shiur the other day and bizarrely got some of the best screenwriting advice I'd heard in ages.
The lecturer said that if you don't understand something or if something is just not working for you in your thought process - ask more questions. That may well lead you to solving your original problem.
Secondly, if you have a single problem, and then think of a solution, that may or may not be right. But if you have several problems, and then think of one solution that solves them all - it will very likely be the right one.
Thinking of screenwriting - how true is it that if something is not working, be it structure, characters, whatever - if you dig deeper, ask more questions, look at other areas, very often you will find the solution to your original problem.
So to that if you have many things that aren't working, sometimes one idea - to cut the opening, to combine two characters into one, whatever it may be - will very often solve all your problems. That sense of economy is what screenwriting is all about.
As I digest everything that arose from the DOUGH script meeting earlier this week, one thing that really became the motto was narrative drive.
There were scenes and indeed whole sequences in the script that both me and Jonathan liked, and were equally convinced that John would like because of their visual, cinematic quality, only for John to quite rightly come along and say well yes, they look nice, but how are they moving the story forward?
Answer is, they weren't. And this led to a lack of focus and a 10-15 min story lull which now needs to be cut. The knock on effect from this is that it allows us more breathing space and screen time to develop some things that were crucial to the story, but are actually underdeveloped at the moment.
One solution solved about three problems.
Have a good weekend.
I'll report back on that and more from the festival next week.
I'm back in London on Dec 1st so won't be reading scripts until then. But I'm happy to take bookings for when I return. Contact me as usual on jezfreedman"at"hotmail.co.uk
A couple of thoughts in the meantime. I was listening to an online shiur the other day and bizarrely got some of the best screenwriting advice I'd heard in ages.
The lecturer said that if you don't understand something or if something is just not working for you in your thought process - ask more questions. That may well lead you to solving your original problem.
Secondly, if you have a single problem, and then think of a solution, that may or may not be right. But if you have several problems, and then think of one solution that solves them all - it will very likely be the right one.
Thinking of screenwriting - how true is it that if something is not working, be it structure, characters, whatever - if you dig deeper, ask more questions, look at other areas, very often you will find the solution to your original problem.
So to that if you have many things that aren't working, sometimes one idea - to cut the opening, to combine two characters into one, whatever it may be - will very often solve all your problems. That sense of economy is what screenwriting is all about.
As I digest everything that arose from the DOUGH script meeting earlier this week, one thing that really became the motto was narrative drive.
There were scenes and indeed whole sequences in the script that both me and Jonathan liked, and were equally convinced that John would like because of their visual, cinematic quality, only for John to quite rightly come along and say well yes, they look nice, but how are they moving the story forward?
Answer is, they weren't. And this led to a lack of focus and a 10-15 min story lull which now needs to be cut. The knock on effect from this is that it allows us more breathing space and screen time to develop some things that were crucial to the story, but are actually underdeveloped at the moment.
One solution solved about three problems.
Have a good weekend.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Dough-nuts
So where were we? About two months ago I announced the DOUGH news. And it’s been full on ever since. As promised, I want to keep everyone informed of the development process. This is relatively new to me so as I go along, inevitably learning along the way, it may prove to be of some use to others too.
Me and my co-writer, Jonathan, delivered the first draft on the last day of October, bang on when our contract stipulated. I brazenly thought we’d get it in earlier, but things do have a habit of cropping up and in the end we were happy to have the extra time. Because when I say we delivered the first draft, what I actually mean is, it was the first draft for Viva Films. For me and Jonathan, it was about the third draft.
I had taken the first stab at it, then Jonathan had a look at it, then I workshopped it with my writing group, and then we both rewrote it again. Feedback, feedback, feedback. I’ve said about a thousand times on this blog that that really is the name of the game. And I’ll probably say it a thousand more.
And of course after we delivered the draft, we then got notes from John Goldschmidt and a couple of readers. This was invaluable because John, Jonathan and I all felt that it was important it was looked at by people who didn’t know the story. (My workshop group had already given feedback on the original four page outline, so although things evolve of course, the basic premise has remained the same.)
One reader totally got it. That’s not to say the report was just blowing us metaphorical kisses from screenwriting heaven. When I say they got, what I mean is, they engaged in the story, stated explicitly what they felt we were trying to do, and then went on to say how and why we perhaps weren’t quite there yet. (And they were right on both counts.) It’s extremely gratifying from an experienced reader to pick up your script cold, read it, and understand what you want it to do. It means that even now, at this relatively early stage, that much at least is coming across.
Having said that, the other reader wasn’t as keen. The story just didn’t grab them. And John, being the very nice chap that he is, tried to protect us a little bit from what he perceived as quite a critical report. I realised this, and the thing is, like I told John, I am perhaps a little thicker skinned than other writers of my age and experience. Having gone through two years on my MA course, workshopping all the time, and continuing to do that as much as possible even now, I am used to people criticizing my work. Because after all, we call it feedback, but what we mean is, criticism. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice and appropriate for a reader to mention the good bits and what is working. But it’s far more important and useful for them to talk about what isn’t. Otherwise it’s just an exercise in self-gratification. (And more crucially, the work won’t get any better.)
What’s more, this ‘harsher’ (for want of a better word) of the two reports also contained some very complimentary words about the writing – and more significantly, hit the nail on the head on a couple of really key points that have become central to the next rewrite. John wasn’t to know this but trust me, I have had a lot, lot worse feedback reports than this!
So yesterday John, Jonathan and I met up, three sets of notes in hand, to discuss where we go from here. I’ve had script meetings before but not on a project as exciting as this and although the meeting lasted around four hours, the other two had to almost crane me out of the room to get me to stop. The room is what it’s all about. Writing is a solitary business (albeit less so when co-writing.) But collaborating, meeting, discussing, throwing ideas around and beginning to think about the type of locations, the use of music, the role of montages and cuts etc, to achieve the visual look we want, really gets the juices going.
And that's where we are at the moment. What comes next? What do you think. Another draft of course. Pencilled in for delivery about a month from now. At which point we’ll do the whole process – notes from John, a couple of readers, and a meeting – where we’ll probably lay down the foundation for, you guessed it, another draft.
I don’t know why they call this development hell. Sounds like heaven if you ask me.
Me and my co-writer, Jonathan, delivered the first draft on the last day of October, bang on when our contract stipulated. I brazenly thought we’d get it in earlier, but things do have a habit of cropping up and in the end we were happy to have the extra time. Because when I say we delivered the first draft, what I actually mean is, it was the first draft for Viva Films. For me and Jonathan, it was about the third draft.
I had taken the first stab at it, then Jonathan had a look at it, then I workshopped it with my writing group, and then we both rewrote it again. Feedback, feedback, feedback. I’ve said about a thousand times on this blog that that really is the name of the game. And I’ll probably say it a thousand more.
And of course after we delivered the draft, we then got notes from John Goldschmidt and a couple of readers. This was invaluable because John, Jonathan and I all felt that it was important it was looked at by people who didn’t know the story. (My workshop group had already given feedback on the original four page outline, so although things evolve of course, the basic premise has remained the same.)
One reader totally got it. That’s not to say the report was just blowing us metaphorical kisses from screenwriting heaven. When I say they got, what I mean is, they engaged in the story, stated explicitly what they felt we were trying to do, and then went on to say how and why we perhaps weren’t quite there yet. (And they were right on both counts.) It’s extremely gratifying from an experienced reader to pick up your script cold, read it, and understand what you want it to do. It means that even now, at this relatively early stage, that much at least is coming across.
Having said that, the other reader wasn’t as keen. The story just didn’t grab them. And John, being the very nice chap that he is, tried to protect us a little bit from what he perceived as quite a critical report. I realised this, and the thing is, like I told John, I am perhaps a little thicker skinned than other writers of my age and experience. Having gone through two years on my MA course, workshopping all the time, and continuing to do that as much as possible even now, I am used to people criticizing my work. Because after all, we call it feedback, but what we mean is, criticism. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice and appropriate for a reader to mention the good bits and what is working. But it’s far more important and useful for them to talk about what isn’t. Otherwise it’s just an exercise in self-gratification. (And more crucially, the work won’t get any better.)
What’s more, this ‘harsher’ (for want of a better word) of the two reports also contained some very complimentary words about the writing – and more significantly, hit the nail on the head on a couple of really key points that have become central to the next rewrite. John wasn’t to know this but trust me, I have had a lot, lot worse feedback reports than this!
So yesterday John, Jonathan and I met up, three sets of notes in hand, to discuss where we go from here. I’ve had script meetings before but not on a project as exciting as this and although the meeting lasted around four hours, the other two had to almost crane me out of the room to get me to stop. The room is what it’s all about. Writing is a solitary business (albeit less so when co-writing.) But collaborating, meeting, discussing, throwing ideas around and beginning to think about the type of locations, the use of music, the role of montages and cuts etc, to achieve the visual look we want, really gets the juices going.
And that's where we are at the moment. What comes next? What do you think. Another draft of course. Pencilled in for delivery about a month from now. At which point we’ll do the whole process – notes from John, a couple of readers, and a meeting – where we’ll probably lay down the foundation for, you guessed it, another draft.
I don’t know why they call this development hell. Sounds like heaven if you ask me.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
Character
Sometimes a blog is just useful to put down on paper, as it were, random thoughts going round in ones own head. And unfortunately for those kind enough to read it, it come sometimes be misinterpreted for some profound, revolutionary insights.
With that in mind, as I've been working on Dough these last few weeks, (first draft delivered last Friday - hurrah,) I’ve been naturally thinking about character a lot. And after emailing with a friend about the script they are working on, I’ve come to the conclusion (not a very inventive one) that there is no such thing as an ordinary film character.
Movies that look like they are about ordinary people, like American Beauty, for example, are in fact not. When you look closer, you see they have unique quirks, they are unusual, and they change in ways and in a space of time that doesn't happen in real life.
The only time you might get a character that is truly ordinary is in an action movie or thriller - because then the fun will be about plunging this otherwise ordinary person into an extraordinary world (Enemy of the State.) But even then you will probably discover that they in fact have special skills or strength they didn't know they had in order to help them survive this new world.
Sometimes I read scripts where the characters are too real. This can often happen when the story or characters are based on real life stories and people. And so the characters might behave like people do in real life, but that doesn’t necessarily make them effective movie characters. For one thing, we as an audience don’t really want to watch real life people on screen. (Even reality TV is heightened and cut to get the maximum amount of entertainment.)
So the trick, I think, is too look for ways to initially make characters look ordinary - but in actual fact, when we get to know them, all sorts of quirks and desires are revealed. It can be anything really. Build it slowly but deliberately, and in the process you are guaranteeing audience engagement.
But keep in mind what a character consciously wants is not usually the same thing as what they need. The story should be about them trying and trying to achieve whatever it is they think they want - failing - and then during that process realising that the thing they want is not what they really need. And they realise (and maybe find, or maybe not – that will probably define the tone) what it is that they really do need.
Simple eh?
But it needs to be there in every sequence, every scene, every line of dialogue. And I need to keep reminding myself of that. All the time.
Thanks for helping.
With that in mind, as I've been working on Dough these last few weeks, (first draft delivered last Friday - hurrah,) I’ve been naturally thinking about character a lot. And after emailing with a friend about the script they are working on, I’ve come to the conclusion (not a very inventive one) that there is no such thing as an ordinary film character.
Movies that look like they are about ordinary people, like American Beauty, for example, are in fact not. When you look closer, you see they have unique quirks, they are unusual, and they change in ways and in a space of time that doesn't happen in real life.
The only time you might get a character that is truly ordinary is in an action movie or thriller - because then the fun will be about plunging this otherwise ordinary person into an extraordinary world (Enemy of the State.) But even then you will probably discover that they in fact have special skills or strength they didn't know they had in order to help them survive this new world.
Sometimes I read scripts where the characters are too real. This can often happen when the story or characters are based on real life stories and people. And so the characters might behave like people do in real life, but that doesn’t necessarily make them effective movie characters. For one thing, we as an audience don’t really want to watch real life people on screen. (Even reality TV is heightened and cut to get the maximum amount of entertainment.)
So the trick, I think, is too look for ways to initially make characters look ordinary - but in actual fact, when we get to know them, all sorts of quirks and desires are revealed. It can be anything really. Build it slowly but deliberately, and in the process you are guaranteeing audience engagement.
But keep in mind what a character consciously wants is not usually the same thing as what they need. The story should be about them trying and trying to achieve whatever it is they think they want - failing - and then during that process realising that the thing they want is not what they really need. And they realise (and maybe find, or maybe not – that will probably define the tone) what it is that they really do need.
Simple eh?
But it needs to be there in every sequence, every scene, every line of dialogue. And I need to keep reminding myself of that. All the time.
Thanks for helping.
Sunday, 27 September 2009
Antonement
Tonight sees the onset of Yom Kippur - The Day of Atonement, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar. It finishes Monday night, the completion of 25 hours spent mostly in Synagogue, fasting and praying. We ask forgiveness for the sins committed in the last year and pray for a better year to come.
The thing that most people don't get about religion is that it's just all about making choices. Making choices about how we spend our time, making choices about how we behave, and how we treat other people, making moral choices everyday. Can you be a moral person, however that is defined, without being religious? Of course. Can you be a religious person without being moral? No. You can pretend. Many people sadly do. But they usually get found out in the end.
As screenwriters, we also constantly face choices. What stories we tell, how we tell them, what a character does when, where and how? The more successful we are, the more important these choices become. When you know what you write will end up on the big or small screen, hopefully watched by millions, the words and stories can have an incredible influence we may not consider when we first scribble FADE IN.
However, I have never supported the idea that a film is the 'reason' people do what they do. Off the top of my head there have been criminal court cases which have led to accusations being made against films like Child's Play (I've never seen it) Reservoir Dogs (loved it) & Severance (never seen it.) How many people saw these movies, and yet only one, or two, thankfully, decided to act out something they saw on screen. These people were sick, and if it hadn't come from a movie, the 'inspiration' would've come from elsewhere.
But nevertheless, it's always worth thinking about what we choose to put on screen. Like I've said many times on this blog, I am all for freedom of expression. But just because we have the legal right to do something, doesn't mean we should ignore the moral obligation not to. Take for example Lars Von Trier’s Antichrist. Let me say up front that I haven't seen it. And I don't normally like to comment on something I haven't seen myself (and if I do, I make sure that I state that I haven't) But goodness me. I know what it's about, I know what's in it, and when the director himself describes the movie’s ending as full of “violence and stupidity”, and apologised for some of the clumsy Biblical references, saying “normally I would have taken out all that shit. I was relatively uncritical of the script,” you really do wonder who thought the estimated 11 million dollar budget was going to be money well spent?
But if anything, I was even more dismayed by the recent Nick Love film, The Firm. Again, I haven’t seen it, even though the official website screams it’s 'this year's must see film,’ (courtesy of Zoo, apparently) But maybe a better epithet would be the most unnecessary film of the year. Did we need another film about football violence? We already have the original The Firm, ID (which I had a rather unhealthy obsession with when I was younger and dumber) Green Street, and The Football Factory (from er, Nick Love, again.) Yes I’ve read all the protestation that The Firm not actually about football violence (do they protest too much?) but, well, sorry, it is. Because that’s the setting you’ve chosen to tell your story about male behaviour, boys growing up and whatever else you want to chuck in there. (Not to mention the obvious glee in the interviews on the website with the creators about the violence.) Nick Love and co couldn’t have known that not long before the film’s release, Millwall and West Ham fans would conduct their own remake of 80s football violence. And he is of course entitled to make the film he wants to make. (I’ve never met him and have nothing against him!) But why the hell would you? And perhaps more importantly for the industry at large, why the hell would you finance it?
This goes to the core of an article by Phil Parker recently in Screen International, reprinted over on Julian’s blog. Phil was in charge of my MA when I started there and was a huge inspiration for me. Anyone who has heard his passion for screenwriting and film knows that when he speaks, the industry really should take note.
But coming back to what we ourselves do on a personal level. And I speak as much to myself as to anyone kind enough to read my blog. Let’s think about what stories we want to tell this year and how we want to tell them. I’m not talking about censorship or being a prude. For a start, when I read scripts, I never pass judgement. One of the best spec scripts I’ve read was a horror film that I’d never go and see in a million years – but its quality was undeniable and scary even just on the page! Previous screenplays of mine contain violence, alcohol and drug abuse, swearing and er, in the last one, some pretty low brow Judd Apatow style comedy! And as the tagline for Dough is now in the public domain, the savvier amongst you will no doubt recognise a drug reference that is very relevant to the movie. But I hope and like to think that the overall message of the stories I tell is a positive one, never justifying things that a moral society should find abhorrent. And that the content is never included just to shock, to cause controversy or because I couldn’t be bothered to “take out all that shit.”
Good luck with everyone’s writing this year. Let’s tell stories that force the British film industry to acquiesce to Phil’s wishes, and end the endless monotony of remakes and sequels etc. And more importantly, choose stories so that when we look in a mirror in our old age, we can still think, I’m proud I did that.
The thing that most people don't get about religion is that it's just all about making choices. Making choices about how we spend our time, making choices about how we behave, and how we treat other people, making moral choices everyday. Can you be a moral person, however that is defined, without being religious? Of course. Can you be a religious person without being moral? No. You can pretend. Many people sadly do. But they usually get found out in the end.
As screenwriters, we also constantly face choices. What stories we tell, how we tell them, what a character does when, where and how? The more successful we are, the more important these choices become. When you know what you write will end up on the big or small screen, hopefully watched by millions, the words and stories can have an incredible influence we may not consider when we first scribble FADE IN.
However, I have never supported the idea that a film is the 'reason' people do what they do. Off the top of my head there have been criminal court cases which have led to accusations being made against films like Child's Play (I've never seen it) Reservoir Dogs (loved it) & Severance (never seen it.) How many people saw these movies, and yet only one, or two, thankfully, decided to act out something they saw on screen. These people were sick, and if it hadn't come from a movie, the 'inspiration' would've come from elsewhere.
But nevertheless, it's always worth thinking about what we choose to put on screen. Like I've said many times on this blog, I am all for freedom of expression. But just because we have the legal right to do something, doesn't mean we should ignore the moral obligation not to. Take for example Lars Von Trier’s Antichrist. Let me say up front that I haven't seen it. And I don't normally like to comment on something I haven't seen myself (and if I do, I make sure that I state that I haven't) But goodness me. I know what it's about, I know what's in it, and when the director himself describes the movie’s ending as full of “violence and stupidity”, and apologised for some of the clumsy Biblical references, saying “normally I would have taken out all that shit. I was relatively uncritical of the script,” you really do wonder who thought the estimated 11 million dollar budget was going to be money well spent?
But if anything, I was even more dismayed by the recent Nick Love film, The Firm. Again, I haven’t seen it, even though the official website screams it’s 'this year's must see film,’ (courtesy of Zoo, apparently) But maybe a better epithet would be the most unnecessary film of the year. Did we need another film about football violence? We already have the original The Firm, ID (which I had a rather unhealthy obsession with when I was younger and dumber) Green Street, and The Football Factory (from er, Nick Love, again.) Yes I’ve read all the protestation that The Firm not actually about football violence (do they protest too much?) but, well, sorry, it is. Because that’s the setting you’ve chosen to tell your story about male behaviour, boys growing up and whatever else you want to chuck in there. (Not to mention the obvious glee in the interviews on the website with the creators about the violence.) Nick Love and co couldn’t have known that not long before the film’s release, Millwall and West Ham fans would conduct their own remake of 80s football violence. And he is of course entitled to make the film he wants to make. (I’ve never met him and have nothing against him!) But why the hell would you? And perhaps more importantly for the industry at large, why the hell would you finance it?
This goes to the core of an article by Phil Parker recently in Screen International, reprinted over on Julian’s blog. Phil was in charge of my MA when I started there and was a huge inspiration for me. Anyone who has heard his passion for screenwriting and film knows that when he speaks, the industry really should take note.
But coming back to what we ourselves do on a personal level. And I speak as much to myself as to anyone kind enough to read my blog. Let’s think about what stories we want to tell this year and how we want to tell them. I’m not talking about censorship or being a prude. For a start, when I read scripts, I never pass judgement. One of the best spec scripts I’ve read was a horror film that I’d never go and see in a million years – but its quality was undeniable and scary even just on the page! Previous screenplays of mine contain violence, alcohol and drug abuse, swearing and er, in the last one, some pretty low brow Judd Apatow style comedy! And as the tagline for Dough is now in the public domain, the savvier amongst you will no doubt recognise a drug reference that is very relevant to the movie. But I hope and like to think that the overall message of the stories I tell is a positive one, never justifying things that a moral society should find abhorrent. And that the content is never included just to shock, to cause controversy or because I couldn’t be bothered to “take out all that shit.”
Good luck with everyone’s writing this year. Let’s tell stories that force the British film industry to acquiesce to Phil’s wishes, and end the endless monotony of remakes and sequels etc. And more importantly, choose stories so that when we look in a mirror in our old age, we can still think, I’m proud I did that.
Tuesday, 15 September 2009
Dough
With thanks to Hashem, I can finally tell you all that my latest project, the one I have been busting myself over for the last couple of months, has been optioned by Viva Films. I'm incredibly excited by it and look forward to working closely with my co-writer, Jonathan Benson, and producer/director John Goldschmidt. It's called Dough, and whilst I obviously can't disclose any confidential information, I will try and keep everyone informed of the process, which hopefully other writers will find useful.
This all started many years ago in fact. Jonathan knew I was a screenwriter and told me he had this idea for a movie. Now I don't know about you, but this happens fairly often when people hear about what I do. And a lot of the time you just want to extract yourself from the conversation as quickly and as politely as possible. Sometimes, the idea might even be really cool, but you still feel like saying okay then, go and write it. But I knew straight away Jonathan's idea was a bit special. We both went off to do other things, always promising to work on it together, but never getting round to it. Mentally I always kept returning to the idea though.
At the end of June I was in contact with John Goldschmidt about reading for him. He asked me to do a trial script report and I was bit put out! I was far too experienced for trials!! But I remained professional and calm and did the report. John really liked it and we met up for a chat. We got on well and during the meeting spent more time talking about his projects and mine, instead of script reading. He said he was actively looking for a new project and told me a bit about the sort of thing he was after. I couldn't believe it. It sounded exactly like Dough. So I pitched it to him then and there, and John liked what he heard.
He asked to see an outline, which of course we didn't have. So I rushed home, phoned Jonathan, and said we have to work on this right, now. We spent about a week or so writing a 4 page outline, which I then got notes on from my workshop group. We rewrote it and then sent it to John. For him it confirmed the potential he already felt the story had.
Next all 3 of us met up to discuss it in more detail, the upshot being that John asked for a treatment. My heart sank a little. Like most writers, I hate treatments. But both John and Jonathan agreed we needed one and I reluctantly admitted it was probably a good idea. John said to keep it to about 10 pages, with 1 page representing 10 minutes of screen time. I don't know about anyone else but I've heard so many things about how to write treatments, the optimum length and style etc, but had not actually heard this one. It's so simple but for some reason it just clicked. This was far more manageable and made sense both in my head and on the page. It seems to work and I will be doing all my treatments like this from now on.
Anyway, a few weeks later we handed in the treatment and John liked that as well. A lot of the ideas had evolved and fleshed out and where we were really lucky was that all three of us were in close contact throughout this time. Quick emails and text messages were exchanged with alarming regularity and it meant ideas could be banded about and got feedback on straight away. This is clearly not a usual situation. Projects don't often evolve like this and I personally really like the collaborative nature it took. John was convinced that this was the project he was looking for. And he wanted to option it.
I don't have an agent. And neither does Jonathan. And when the contract arrived, some of the jargon is mind boggling. We were all getting on extremely well but you have to remain professional. John is fantastic to work with but you cannot just sign anything that is put in front of you. So I asked an agent I know if they would do me a favour and look at it. They kindly agreed and certain things were highlighted that we wanted to review. I won't name the agent because I don't want them to be inundated with people asking for favours! But they know who they are and I am really grateful for their time.
So there was still some thrashing out to be done. It was a bit stressful but the important thing was that everyone ultimately wanted the same thing and remained on good terms, resolute in the desire to develop this project. Finally everything was agreed and we met up for dinner last night to sign the contract.
It was a great feeling, but none of us are under any illusions. The real work starts now as we write the first draft, which will inevitably be rubbish, but then commit to rewriting and rewriting until it's exactly what we want. The fact of the matter is that most films don't get made. But we are determined not to become just another statistic in the quagmire of the UK film industry and no matter how long it takes, to write and make a film we are all proud of.
I will keep you up to date on our progress as much as I can.
One final post script. My original meeting with John was the same week I got rejected from the Writers Academy. I was pretty glum and this opportunity came along at just the right time. Had I got in would I have had time to concentrate on Dough? Probably not. Having said that if John Yorke phones up tomorrow and says Jez, there's been a terrible mistake and there couldn't possibly be an Academy without you... would I turn it down? Of course not. But once again it just goes to show you've got to roll with the punches, keep plugging away, and be in contact with the industry as much as possible and in anyway you can. Because you never know when or where the next opportunity might come from.
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