How does it all end?

Lucy blogged recently about the myth of one element of a script being more important than another, or at the very least given more importance by those assessing it. So, for example, dialogue and character over plot. This of course, as Lucy says, is complete nonsense. If only it was that easy! This is also true with different parts of the script. How many times do we hear that the first 10 pages are the most important. But so many specs suffer from a severe drop off in the middle, so maybe act two is the secret key? But then again, the ending is the last thing the audiences sees and often the first thing they remember. So this has gotta be pretty important too, right?

The obvious truth is that everything, every single element and every single moment of the script has got to work and stack up. Because everyone (readers, producers, agents) are looking for a reason to say no. Not because they are mean. But because they are swamped. And a no is easier than a yes. A great 10 pages might mean the whole thing gets read, but a lag in the middle or rubbish ending will see it quickly placed into the rejection pile. Great characters and snappy dialogue is wonderful - but if the plot has bigger holes than Arsenal's midfield, you're gonna be as successful as they are.

That said (!) I want to look at the endings of The Wrestler to see how it defines the tone of the movie and leaves the audience with a specific emotional feeling that will effect how they describe the film to others. (And I'm looking at the ending so yup, they're gonna be spoilers!)

The Wrestler was one of the surprise hits of 2008 and relaunched Micky Rourke's career. The story of a WWE style wrestler called Randy, way, way past his prime, still living on former glories. He is estranged from his daughter and the only thing he has resembling a close, personal relationship is with a stripper called Cassidy. Randy suffers a heart attack is in told not to wrestle any more. But Randy struggles out of the ring, and away from the roar of the crowd, and to cut the film short, after screwing things up with his daughter yet again, returns to the ring for the rematch of the century - against the wishes of Cassidy who pleads with him not to risk it.

What's interesting is that I read the script before I saw the film. In the script, during the finale, as Randy climbs the ropes to leap onto his opponent in his signature move, it says:

Torn, his eyes drift in Cassidy's direction.

HIS POV: Cassidy is gone.

Randy bows his head in disappointment.

The crowd cheer, Randy leaps, and the film ends. I read it as a tragic story. The guy has messed up his life, cannot move on and form any real relationships with people, and is going to kill himself in the ring, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon.

It's a fantastic script but when I told a friend what I thought, they disagreed. They saw it as an act of defiance by Randy. He was going to live his life, his way, and keep his dignity. (As opposed to the crappy store counter job we see him endure and quit etc.) But when I came to watch the movie, I noticed something very interesting. The shot described above is not there. The definite look towards Cassidy, and the disappointment that she has gone - and therefore seemingly given up on him - is missing from the film. And that one change altered so much of the meaning for me. If Randy doesn't look for her, if he just climbs the ropes, sucks in the adoration of the crowd, and takes a defiant leap - then hell yeah it's a different tone to a sad, tragic glance for something, or someone, that is not there any more.

I don't know if this was done in the shoot, the edit, a late rewrite - or whose decision it was. I might even be making a big deal out of something that wasn't even seen as being that significant. But I noticed it straight away and like I say, it did change the meaning of the scene. And as the final scene, it fundamentally influenced the whole story! As writers we might not have much control over something like this when it comes down to it. But we need to be aware that at script stage at least, what we write - even one single shot - can have significant ramifications in influencing how you want the reader to feel about your story.

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?

The Reader

The mercurial David Melkevick has come up with a brilliant idea.

We all know that screenwriters need to read more scripts. But how many of us actually do it?

Well David has started his own script club. And I really recommend as many writers as possible get involved, read the scripts, think about them seriously, and get involved with the discussion that follows.

If you miss a week okay, no problem. Just get back into it the week after. By the end of the year you could have read 50 more scripts than you otherwise might have done.

And if your writing doesn't improve as a result, David will eat his hat.

Genre

I was actually thinking about this blog before I read David Bishop's post which mentioned Phil Paker's theory on genre. But as I've said previously, I studied screenwriting under Phil during my MA. You spend enough time with the guy, you start to buy into a lot of what he says. (Sounds like a cult I know, but he's just a very good, very enthusiastic, teacher!)

So basically I agree with Phil's theory. There are four basic genres, Romance, Horror, Thriller and Personal Drama. Having said that, there are a few sub-genres in each. For example within the Romance drama, you've got Rom Coms, Romantic Dramas and Romantic Tragedies. I'm not going into the whole thing. There are back articles by Phil in Twelvepoint and he's got his own book. One further thing though, like David said, is his belief that things like Sci-Fi and Western are not genres, but settings. This actually makes perfect sense to me (although I respect the fact that others would completely disagree) because it seems a bit odd that Star Wars and Alien are supposedly both the same genre (Sci-Fi,) but have radically different stories (because one is an Action Adventure and one is pure Horror.) You can have a love story set in the Wild West, or you can set a thriller there. You get my point.

Why is this important? Because Genre is key to understanding how stories work. If we understand genre conventions, and we understand the genre we are working in, we have the tools to analyse what is working, what is not, and crucially, why something is not. Take for example two films I saw recently, How to Lose Friends and Alienate People and Pineapple Express. I believe that one works because it understood its genre and used its conventions to come up with something original, and that the other one got in a bit of a muddle.

How to Lose Friends and Alienate People was about Sidney Young (Simon Pegg) and his struggles to make it as a journalist, which took him somewhat inexplicably to New York. It's a Personal Drama (I'm not talking about tone. I realise it's a comedy not a drama!) Sidney's struggle is to become a journalist but not sell out and write puff pieces in order to do so. But he meets Alison Olsen (Kirsten Dunst) and suddenly, towards the end of the narrative, the plot starts turning on Rom Com beats. I realise you can have a love story subplot - but in which case your main story should not turn on those beats. The active question was never whether Sidney would get a girlfriend, whether Sidney and Alison end up together. They do, at one of those open air, big screen old movie showings, that only seem to exist in, well, the movies. But we don't really care. The question I wanted answering was whether Sidney stayed true to himself and his beliefs. He did, in the end, kind of. But it was all a bit wishy washy.

On the other hand, Pineapple Express takes the familiar Action Adventure film and makes it new with its protagonists. I'm not gonna rattle off the plot, but it involves someone seeing something they shouldn't, going on the run, drug gang wars, corrupt cops, shootouts and car chases. That could describe many a Will Smith or Tom Cruise movie. The only difference here is that the two leads, played by Seth Rogen and James Franco, are complete pot heads! So they stumble from one disaster to another, the worst shootout ever, the worst getaway car chase ever etc. And it's hilarious. There is total respect for the genre conventions - but with a couple of stoners thrown into the middle of it. It's similar to what Hot Fuzz tried to do, with mixed results. But it's a reminder that knowing genre conventions and using them, does not inhibit creativity and originality.

So whatever script analysis tool works for you, that is probably the one to follow. I don't always agree with Phil. (Phil - I still maintain Shakespeare in Love is a Romantic Comedy, not a Romantic Drama!) But the important thing to keep in mind is how important Genre is. Because not only will it help you write your screenplay, further down the line, it will also hopefully be a key tool in marketing your film too. But if you establish a genre, and therefore a 'contract' with the audience, and then don't deliver on those expectations for whatever reasons, chances are you'll have a bunch of unsatisfied customers on your hands.

The goals are, there are no goals

Since late September I’ve been harbouring a dirty secret. Whisper it quietly, but I’ve been working in a part time job. A real one. In an office, that pays and everything. And it has nothing to do with screenwriting, film, television, or anything industry related.

Y’see I’ve always been lucky. My wife, and my parents before that, have always supported my (somewhat ludicrous) career choice. They’ve never once pressured me to get a ‘real job.’ So I haven’t had to get one for years, going back to before my MA. And I realise I am privileged in this respect, as most people do indeed have a ‘day job’ and then write in the evenings.

I was emailing with a friend not long ago (no one talks any more do they?) This person was a bit down. I can’t remember why now; another rejection, another let down, we all know the feeling. And they asked how long can we keep doing this? I replied that we just have to keep going, for as long as we want to, as long as we can, and as long as we still have food on the table and a roof over our heads.

And there comes a point, probably around the time when you are literally standing in the supermarket debating whether you should buy one carton of juice or two, that you realise that this cannot go on. You may have signed up for this, but your family didn’t. Supporting you shouldn’t also mean suffering the consequences if you can help it. So I got a part time job. Fairly easily as it happens, with a big Jewish charity that does amazing work for the community. It fell in my lap quite by chance, although I don’t believe in chance. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, first lasting 3 weeks, then 5, then to the end of the year, and then, finally, permanent maternity cover for the whole of 2010.

So the challenge for me this year, and I dare say a lot of people, is to work everyday (albeit part time, which for me, physically, is like full time) and then work as hard as I can writing in the evening. That’s it. No get an agent, no get an episode of Eastenders, no get more film work. Because Piers is absolutely spot on. We don’t run the world. I was extremely close to getting an agent in 2009, after some rejections, only to have it fall apart at the eleventh hour through no real fault of anyone involved. And then I had an original feature optioned out of nowhere.

The only goals you can set are ones you can control yourself. So okay, if you insist, my goals for 2010 are to work as hard as I can doing the thing that I love, whilst at the same time working as hard as I can for a really important organisation, that also helps me to help my wife support us. Other than that, live the right way, be nice to people, do mitzvot, and be a good husband.

If I’ve done that by this time next year, it would’ve been a good year. Anything else, well, that’s not up to me.

Kaos Films British Feature Screenplay Competition

Somehow this fell under the radar but Kaos have relaunched their feature screenplay competition.

Full details are here

I've always felt their entrance fees are a bit steep, and I won't be entering this year anyway cos I am knee deep in Dough, but at least they seem to make good on their promises.

Last year's winner, John Paul Sheerin, has his film The Legend of New York Pizza, in development and is now represented by Katherine Vile from United Agents.

Early deadline is 3rd Jan - late deadline is 28th Feb.

So I wouldn't recommend starting something new. But if you've got something you've been working on, there's certainly enough time to do some rewriting and polishing and get it in.

And of course, (shameless plug coming up) if you want some feedback on it, you know where to come!

jezfreedman"at"hotmail.co.uk

Happy holidays and happy writing!

Things we noticed watching tv this week - well actually last week

The Men Who Stare At Goats is the best Coen brothers' film that the Coen brothers never made. Although I knew going into the movie that they hadn't written or directed it, we arrived a little late so missed the opening credits. It's so like one of their movies, complete with Coen regular George Clooney in the lead role, and Jeff Bridges virtually reprising his iconic role as The Dude in The Big Lebowski, that I was convinced I would discover at the end credits that they had at least produced it. But they didn't and to my knowledge had nothing to do with it. However it was interesting to note that there was a strong British influence, from writer Peter Straughan, to producer Ruby Films and BBC Films, which was all the more remarkable considering the movie felt so much like an American indie.

The supposedly, maybe, a little bit true, premise is that the US military once had a special unit trained to fight by using the power of the their mind. So they could mentally detect where someone was hiding, or even kill etc. They are called Jedi warriors, which seemed like one big in-joke considering the presence of Ewan McGregor. But the movie is actually about guilt and redemption. Clooney's character is the star pupil, and reaches the point where he is tested as to whether he can kill a goat simply by staring at it. At first he is reluctant - what has this innocent goat done to him? But soon he succumbs, and is willing to sacrifice the goat because he just needs to know whether he can do it or not. But when he does, he is racked with guilt, and he is never the same man again. Of course it's daft and played for laughs. But isn't that a poignant and profound observation. Just because we can do something, doesn't necessarily mean we should. And this (rather weird) journey is all about how he can atone from this one moment weakness.

And one moment of weakness is at the heart of the climax, or probably anti climax would be more accurate, of A Serious Man (definitely the Coen brothers this time.) I liked this movie. I liked the eccentric characters and I liked the very bittersweet comedy. But the ending was infuriating. I've never been a fan of movies that just seem to stop, with no sense of resolution or even evolution. In fact, considering all the bad things that are hurled at the protagonist, the one moment of fraudulent weakness he displays at the end feels like it should come at the beginning. Maybe that's the point and I am missing it. The subject of faith and God comes up on a few occasions in what must be the most Jewish movie of all time. And perhaps the Coen's are suggesting that the Almighty already knew what Larry Gopnik was going to do and therefore punished him in advance! But I'm not sure I buy that. However leaving the ending aside, what was really interesting to note was how the Coen's handled their protagonist. Larry is not a bad man. And you certainly don't get the sense that they don't like their leading man. Quite the opposite. But nevertheless they don't hesitate is putting him through the absolute wringer. That is where the drama and wry comedy comes from. And I often find that I am too easy on my characters, especially the protagonist. I created them, and I get to know them better than anyone, and then I am soft on them! I don't want them to suffer. But if they don't suffer, emotionally as much as physically, then the story will.

So what did we see from my NY movie fest. In brief:
Into the Storm - don't be afraid to make your protagonist, even a national hero, into a complex, often unpleasant, human being.
Up - the power of visual story telling cannot be underestimated. It's crucial in animated movie because children respond to it. But as adults we never lose this and a picture really can be worth a thousand words.
Julie & Julia - a lack of much at stake and of narrative drive will mean the story falls flat, even with a couple of likable lead characters.
District Nine - On the contrary, a strong narrative drive with very clear goals and a tough journey for the protagonist, will keep an audience emotionally engaged on the edge of their seat.
The Men Who Stare at Goats - real themes and emotions can make even the most surreal of plots resonate.
A Serious Man - Don't love your characters so much that you aren't willing to put them through hell for the sake of the story.

I'm willing to bet that we all knew these things already. Nothing written above is anything particularly new. But as soon as we decide to become screenwriters, our days of casual viewing are over. Entertainment is one thing, but we can take learn from everything we watch. And reading theory books and attending lectures is one thing. But when you see it on screen, and pick out this is why this does or doesn't work. That's when the writing really comes alive.