J. Edgar, the Brown

Please go see this movie if you just love the colors brown and grey.  If the thought of listening for over two hours to actors speaking in perfectly clipped mid-Atlantic accents, slowly and with exacting annunciation, thrills you to the marrow, this one’s for you.   If you think it’s hilarious when people in the past refer to things in their future that turned out to be true, it’s a real laffer.  And if you get deep satisfaction from seeing two swords together on a mantlepiece and just knowing this means the two men in the room are in love, then run, do not walk, to your closest cinema today.  

This thing’ll probabaly win a bunch of Oscar nods, and...  Is the production design impressive?  Yes.  Was it well researched?  Seemingly.  Are there some thoughtful performances?  Certainly. But if the primary positive feeling one has while watching a film is respect for the dedication of the filmmakers, then something is probably missing. 

Unless, of course, the color mousy-brown really sends you.  Then you’ll be clinging to the edge of your seat for a full 137 minutes. 

From the Belly of the Beast

My friend, a filmmaker, asked a friend of his, a top literary agent at a top Hollywood agency, if he would be open to hearing a pitch for a new biopic.

The following is the agent's reply. It could be considered disheartening.  Daunting. Discouraging.   But it's also completely honest and very good information to have.   Typos and all.   Enjoy.

Its like, there are so many stories out there that could go a thousand different ways, mostly they turn into a boring bio pics. that lose money. So to invest the money studios do, they want someone who they know can deliver (aaron Sorkin and David Fincher) and even then they tend to want it to be about Steve Jobs, which is the hot assignment right now or in the prior case Facebook.

If you have a lights out script that blows people's mind, that isn't about a subject with a failing track record(IE the middle east wars.) you may have a shot there too, but people better totally flip.

127 hours btw only grossed $60mil world wide. Not a lot for a global release

Hurtlocker grossed $50 mil world wide. Even less.

Its fine and well people in LA and NY like to talk about these movies over cocktails but in a world where it costs a mint just to market these pictures, they financially are damn tough.

If they are getting into something like that, they want it to be Social network that did $225M WW.

I shit you not, baring guys like Cameron of which there are about 5-10 people with anywhere near that juice, almost every project is freaking existing IP driven stuff. Meaning Robocop remake, Fast and the furious 6, Transformers 4, Ouiji (based on the board game), Battleship (also based on the board game), Highlander remake, 2 snow white movies, Cinderella, a 300 sequel about Xerses, The Man from Uncle remake, Cannon ball run remake, The secret life of walter mitty remake. You would fucking laugh and then never try again in Hollywood if you saw the grid list of stuff out there, sometimes we just laugh.

We are along way from the 70's and Chinatown. A long long way.

THE LINCOLN LAWYER: A Study in Status

In my earliest weeks in acting school, we were taught to look at our characters in a scene for really only two things:

“What do I want?”  “Who’s got the power?”

The fancy word for the first is “Intention”.  The second – “Status”.  

Status, mind you, is not lower in status than Intention.

Because without Status, Intention is dead in the water.  To make it interesting, there’s got to be someone you want something from.  That makes that person have power over you.  That makes them higher in Status. 

Or the other guy, he wants something so bad he'll do anything for it and you’ve got just the thing he needs.  That’s a whole lotta power. 

As an actor, it’s really kind of the most fun thing about bringing the material to life.  It’s juicy.  As a writer, it’s one of the most effective things you can create for your characters.  It’s real, human, and dynamic. 

Unfortunately, most screenplays nowadays pay very little attention to this truly powerful story-telling tool.  Status...playing with it, using it to mold your characters, mold a scene, a whole story, is so incredibly effective a device that it’s really kind of shocking that it’s nearly all but forgotten in most screenplays today except in the broadest of terms.  It's a great writing tool to understand. 

In life, most people gauge how they’re doing by how they compare to other people.  Unless you’re really enlightened, self-perception is mostly about how you perceive you are in relation to other people.  Which means that your self-worth is wrapped up in how you are in your relationships.

The primary way to tell how you’re doing?  Status.  “Who’s got the power?”

What makes it such a great story-telling device is that Status instantly means that one person wants something from the other person, and the other person is not inclined to give it, sometimes vociferously.  It’s really very elegantly simple.  And incredibly active.

The Lincoln Lawyer, a really solid screenplay adaptation by John Romano, is a well-made film in many respects, but its best quality is that it’s like a super-charged Study in Status. 

Every single scene is operating on one major axis:  “Who’s got the power?” 

And it flips on a dime. In nearly every scene, it switches at least once, usually more.  Often the script explores triangulation: Someone who has more power in one area will have less power in another, in the same scene.  This is drawn very distinctly and deliberately.

Characters will trade Status back and forth with each other, sometimes played out over an entire sequence. 

In one scene...Matthew McConaughey’s character, Mick, a self-inflated defense shyster who dreads ever defending a truly innocent man, gets thoroughly drunk.  He engages his smart, gorgeous ex-wife, Marisa Tomei, to drive him home, and gets all warm as Texas honey over her when she drops him off, to no effect.  She’s in charge.  (And damn – she is a beautiful woman.)

Several scenes later, Marisa Tomei (in the same bar) ties on one, and M.M. turns on the charm to get her reveal some important – and secret - information.  Now he’s working her.  That night they go home and have hot we’re-not-married-anymore sex.  But the next morning it flips again; she takes him down several pegs by cooly insulting his parenting skills and his profession as a defense lawyer all in one breath. 

It’s pretty well done.

The whole film is about the arc of M.M.’s status as a man, and how he compares to his own view of himself.  Ultimately the story is: in reality he is lower in Status than his own opinion of himself, and he has to win it back.

And let’s not forget the actors.  Everyone single actor gives a solid performance in this one, no little thanks to the fact that these were actually complex, specific characters.  It generally works like that.  Good Material = Good Performances. 

When you’re wondering how to really bring your character development to the next level, dig deep.  Look at each and every moment of a character, and ask yourself what the actor’s going to be asking:

“Who’s got the power?”

Then go write it.

THE RULE ABOUT: Action Lines

I like rules, but not as a rule.  I like rules that make sense, that have a reason for being, and actually make things better.   Like stop signs and no double-dipping.  

One of the most talked about rules in screenwriting is what does – and doesn’t - go into the action lines. 

Some writers are never tempted to put such things into their action lines as “She feels sad.” “You can tell these two have a strong connection.” “What did he just say?” or “He has never met this person before, but he likes them immediately because they remind him of a friend he had as a kid.”

Then again, some writers are.

The general industry-held rule is simply this:  Nothing goes in the action lines that can’t be seen or heard onscreen.  Period.  

The action lines above, and their kin, are emotional states, interior monologue, and a serious case of TMI.

Now, this is a rule just like any other rule.  The people who are tempted to put this kind of thing into their script will find all kinds of exceptions to this rule and justifications for it. 

However, I happen to think this is a Very Good Rule for a few reasons I’ve found to be true over the years.  They are:

1) Going against the rules can be enough to turn a reader off your entire script.   Just like that.  Even if they never come out and say so in the coverage, or tell you directly.  Even if they’re not completely aware of what’s bugging them...this can be the thing that makes them decide that your script is unprofessional and poorly executed, even if it’s great in many other ways. 

Why give any reader, from intern to Executive Producer, a chance to dismiss your script out of hand for something that is totally within your control to change?    If you can make it “industry standard”, why wouldn’t you?  It’s a standard as  three-hole-punch paper with only two brass brads.   And really...it’s the polite thing to do.  It shows a certain lack of respect to not do it, or worse, a lack of knowledge.  Enough said.

2)  If there is no specific action attached to the interior information, there is no way for that to happen onscreen.  We have to either see it, or hear it.  If you want someone to express feelings of sadness but don’t create a direct way to do that, chances are you’ll get a performance out of an actress who’s thinking the hell out of “I’m sad”, but it could look just as much like “God, I want that man” or “I should really switch to cloth shopping bags”.   No one will know what she’s thinking just by her thinking it. 

3)  If it’s important enough to be part of the story, it’s important enough to have a specific action created for it.  There’s a high probability that without a direct visible, physical action to show the internal information, it’s just not going to make it into the picture.

Actors interpreting a script look for “playable” moments, and those moments will all be attached to some kind of action, even a movement or gesture.  “He places a hand over hers before turning his eyes to her” shows tenderness and concern.

And, hey, if you don’t feel like making an action to show that idea, just cut it altogether.  There, that was easy. 

4)  Give them what they need to see it when they read it.  Non-visual action lines leave up to the reader - be it actor or suit - carte blanche to interpret those action lines however it occurs to them.  They could be reading “These two have a connection” and imagining anything from a deep, soulful look...to a full-on, tongues and all, make-out session.  Or worse, absolutely nothing.   Make sure people are reading your vision of the story: 

.........................

The one exception to this rule...yes, I get to make one...is when first introducing a character.  It’s totally within reason to say a few choice words about a character that are background or emotional qualities, especially if knowing them right away will help the whole story make deeper sense to the reader.   For example, a “real survivor” or “a former Beauty Queen wannabe”, describe an impression more than a physicality, but are evocative of a meaningful character trait.  It’s still best to keep it simple here, but feel free. 

The only argument I occasionally entertain is if a writer is going to be directing their own piece, and therefore will have all the inside dope.  But please don’t fall into this.  Other people have to read your script and get it.  Actors have to read your script and play it. 

IN THE END...Film is a visual medium. “If it ain’t on the page, it ain’t on the stage.” Yadda Yadda.  There’s just no good reason to break the action-line-rule, and some very good reasons to follow it, all of which will make your screenplay more effective...and hopefully get made.   

BLACK SWAN: The Exquisite Pain of Having a Body

It must be hard to be Darren Arononfsky.  He clearly finds it gloriously horrifying to have a human body.  Flesh, blood, and bones, and the desire and utter fallibility contained therein, must really keep that man up at nights.

The power of a story, in any genre, is in its ability to connect to the core of the human experience.   To express that experience in narrative form is like that spoonful of sugar that makes the medicine go down.  A story well told about the things that make us the most human cut right to the core, sometimes in some sneakily beautiful ways.  

This is the essence of primal story-telling.  There are stories and settings that consistently connect with people throughout history.  Most of us relate to rites of passage: weddings, births, and funerals.  Most people know the pain of a broken heart, the loss of someone they’ve loved, the unique thrill of having a dream fulfilled, be it ever so humble.

But everyone alive on the planet absolutely knows 100 percent what it’s like to have a body.   Sometimes it’s awesome.  Sometimes it sucks.  Sometimes you turn into a bird and then die. 

The three films of Aronofsky's, Requiem for a Dream, The Wrestler, and now the bloody, rapturous thriller, Black Swan, examine from very different points of view people trapped in the pain and glory of having a human body.  As we all are. 

Natalie Portman’s performance in Black Swan is astonishing not just in her obvious physical commitment to the demands of the role, but in her total emotional availability to the deliciousness and suffering of that physicality.  The sexual highs of drug-induced orgasm and the lows of self-induced regurgitation. The lack of food, a cigarette snuck in, her peeling finger, her shattered toenail.

This is not just the stuff of horror films, though those often are the greatest example of primal, physical story-telling.  What would any Harrison Ford movie be without him getting the living crap kicked out of him?  What would Die Hard be without Bruce’s bare feet getting sliced to ribbons on broken glass?   

While certainly Black Swan can be looked at from many different angles, the most powerful aspect of it is that amongst all the other seductive layers and levels, metaphors and myths, at the base of it is simply the fact that we can all relate to the exquisite pain of having a body.