You’ll often hear people talk of gray characters. Meaning they are neither black nor white, complex, surprising, challenging, resisting cliches. How do you go about doing that, exactly?

The toughest part is finding the balance between the good in someone and the not so good. You want a multidimensional protagonist, so you sprinkle in some pepper, some badness, maybe even—at first glance—some downright evil aspects. The difficulty is adding that complexity without making an audience hate your lead. Unless hate was what you were after in anti-hero style, the question you need to ask is how far out do you go tearing down a character before you build them back up to where we see and understand the journey, and look at it as something real, something truthful.

Saw an instructional movie on this last week, FLIGHT, with a killer performance by Denzel Washington. Let’s look at the script and see how the screenwriter, John Gatins, wrote the complex character Whip Whitaker.

Spoiler alert! If you haven’t seen FLIGHT and plan to, you might want to stop reading now.

Page 1 sets the tone…

Back to the bed as WHIP WHITAKER rises into frame and inhabits the room like a lazy ape at the zoo. WHIP wears his 40 some years of life experience like a medal. Smoke hangs in the air and empty beers, a pint of vodka and two empty carafes of cheap hotel wine clutter the table as WHIP snatches up his phone and answers…

VOICE: For the love of Christ! Look…just hold… HOLD ON.

He aggressively drains the last four inches of beer from a clear bottle and cracks the last fresh one that bobs in the hotel ice bucket.

The naked, YOUNG WOMAN bends over to pick up her clothes. We witness her ass as a tanned glass vase with a perfect crack down the middle. Whip smiles, taking it all in…

….

TRINA is still naked but she holds a navy blue skirt and a white blouse as she hands WHIP his pants. WHIP can’t help but pat that perfect ass as TRINA tries to skip away.

ON THE RADIO We hear the opening bars of a familiar rock anthem…JOE COCKER’s “I’m Feeling Alright”

WHIP: Yeah, I’m feelin’ a little lightheaded. I shoulda ate somethin’.

WHIP leans over the motel table, picks up a soda straw that’s been cut in half. He efficiently sniffs up a line of coke.

This dude is a party monster! Booze, coke. Blood alcohol limit of .02-whatever, three times the legal limit to drive a Subaru, and he happens to be flying a JR-88 commercial airplane that very morning. Damn! Great conflict set up from page 1.

They take off and find themselves in very rough air right from the start. Whip remains calm, instincts take over and he leads the plane out of it. It takes him about two minutes to release himself from his Captain duties, and find the bar cart:

INT. CABIN – GALLEY – DAY

WHIP opens a bottle of orange juice and takes a big swig. He then pours half of it in the sink. WHIP places the open juice bottle on the liquor cart, reaches up, and grabs the cabin mic to address the passengers.

WHIP: Folks, this is Captain Whitaker. If you look up, I’m here in the galley. I will wave to you.

WHIP steps into the aisle so the passengers can see him. WHIP waves with a calm smile that would put anyone at ease.

WHIP (CONT’D):Good Morning. I apologize for the bumps, but Florida just doesn’t seem to like us Georgians. Must be the beatin’ the Bulldogs put on the Gators last fall.

Titters of laughter from the passengers as WHIP moves the half step he needs to put himself behind the liquor cart.

WHIP (CONT’D): Stretch out and relax. The air might stay a little cranky so I’m gonna ask that you sit tight if you can, with your seat belts fastened.

We now watch from behind WHIP as his free hand reaches into the top drawer of the liquor cart and pulls three small vodka bottles out.

WHIP (CONT’D): We won’t have beverage service but the girls will walk through with water and snacks and I’ll have you in Atlanta in about 40 minutes. Thank you.

WHIP puts the mic to its hook. Alone in the galley and out of view, he quickly empties the vodkas into the orange juice bottle and replaces the cap. Whip shakes the juice as he tosses the little empties into the galley trash. Whip takes a healthy pull from the spiked juice, downing nearly half.

This movie is about addiction, and the lies those addicted tells themselves and others. We see this guy from page 1 as the drunk he is, but to the folks around him, he seems solid, even inspirational in the heat of the moment as he saves the plane and all lives. What is vs. what appears to be. That is the essence of character complexity. Speaking of saving lives, I have to show you the pages where, after the instrumentation blows out, he saves the airplane. The sequence is long so I’ll trim some for the sake of brevity. A great action sequence:

The G-force of the roll presses Evans away from the console.

EVANS: I CAN’T REACH THE GEAR!

WHIP: WHAT’S OUR ALTITUDE?

EVANS: 3,000…I think.

WHIP: Let it roll. I got it!

Whip quickly retracts the speed brakes, then PUSHES HIS YOKE FULL FORWARD! The clumsy liner does a slow, ungraceful roll.

INT. PLANE CABIN – SAME

WE WATCH as the PASSENGERS scream as the plane rolls over and they are suspended upside down…

EXT. SKY OVER ATLANTA – SAME

The JR-88 finishes its barrel-roll, skimming over suburban rooftops and trees. A CLOUD-TRAIL of Jet-A SPEWING from its wings…

INT. FLIGHT DECK – SAME

THE PLANE IS COMPLETELY INVERTED!! THRU THE WINDSCREEN — THE PLANE LEVELS OFF — IT’S INVERTED NOSE RISES TO MEET THE HORIZON.

EVANS hangs in his harness straps as dust and smoke swirl around him. The inverted wings make an EERIE WHISTLING SOUND as the plane SHUDDERS violently side-to-side.

EVANS: Oh Lord Jesus! We’re inverted!

WHIP reaches over and pulls the throttles back. He suddenly seems strangely calm, comfortable with his fate…

THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD WE SEE — the landscape and the church steeple getting closer and closer…

INT. COCKPIT — SAME TIME

Whip frantically spins the trim wheel!

THRU THE WINDSCREEN –THE CHURCH SPIRE IS COMING RIGHT AT US — BOOM! — THE RIGHT WING CLIPS THE STEEPLE, SHEARING OFF THE CROSS!

WE HEAR A HORRIFIC, METALLIC GRINDING — followed by a TERRIFYING SILENCE — RIGHT ENGINE STOPS.

EVANS:WE LOST ALL POWER!

An unnerving quiet descends over the passenger cabin. The only SOUND is the wind RUSHING past the air-frame.

THROUGH THE WINDSCREEN –WE’RE DROPPING RAPIDLY TOWARD THE GROUND — A GROUP OF PEOPLE GATHERED NEAR A POND IN THE CHURCHYARD SCATTER — some are wearing long white robes.

CLOSE ON WHIP –

WHIP (CONT’D): WE’RE IN A GLIDE! PITCH FOR GLIDE!

THROUGH THE WINDSCREEN — THE BEAN FIELD RUSHES UP AT US…

CLOSE ON WHIP –

WHIP (CONT’D)

BRACE! BRACE FOR IMPAC…

ALL SOUND FADES AWAY AS THE SCREEN BLEEDS HOT WHITE –OVEREXPOSED. IN GRAPHIC SLOW-MOTION — THE INSTRUMENT PANEL CRUMPLES AND COLLAPSES AROUND WHIP –

And in a final, ironic, cosmic gesture –

WHIP’S CONTROL YOKE HURDLES TOWARD HIM — IMPACTING HIM BETWEEN THE EYES –

 

Inverted! Unreal image. Whit saves the day and 100 lives. Only one problem…he was drunk doing it. Blood is taken, lawsuits readied, and a fall guy all picked out. Despite his heroics, Whit could go to jail for 20 years.

Enter the Don Cheadle lawyer character. Talk about grays…brought in by the pilot’s union, he works to clear Whit, but for all the wrong reasons. He gets the blood work report tossed out, works to get Whit clean for his NTSB hearing but he doesn’t much care for Whit at all. His motivation is all about $$$. In the determination of whether the airplane manufacturer or the airline was responsible, tens of millions are stake. They place Whit in solitary confinement the night before the big hearing, not a drop of booze in sight, place him under armed guard, but Whit—like any true addict—finds his way to a stash in the refrigerator of the room next door:

HOTEL ROOM CONNECTING DOOR — SAME TIME

The connecting door is unlocked. WHIP arrives and waits. He now watches as the connecting lock-bolt CLICKS against the frame — the door swinging in a draft. He looks up to see the culprit — a heating vent. WHIP flips the vent closed.

Whip now pushes the door with his finger, opening it a few inches. Nothing. Darkness.

WHIP: Hello? Anyone?

Whip enters.

INT. CONNECTING HOTEL ROOM — SAME

The room is vacant. The bed is made. The drapes are pulled open.

WHIP walks quietly on the carpet towards the window. The night is clear. Quiet. Whip takes in the city lights.

WHIP’S POV –Among the glass and steel office buildings, Whip spots a church spire. A simple cross is perched on top. Whip looks at the church, deep in thought. Then suddenly…

We HEAR A HUM. THE GENTLE HUM OF AN ELECTRIC MOTOR.

WHIP turns from the window and scans the room…

It’s the MINI-BAR refrigerator — HUMMING to life.

Whip stares at the gleaming black box. The WHIR of the motor seems to get LOUDER. Calling Whip. Beckoning him…Whip looks at the fridge. His face is blank, His eyes tell us nothing. Then… Whip steps toward the box.

CLOSE ON THE MINI-BAR. Whip swings open the door.

WHOOSH — OUR DARK SCREEN LIGHTS.

COLORS SPARKLE as a cadre of tiny liquor bottles GLOW like jewels in a chest.

WHIP stares at the “glimmering gems” for a long, long time –vodka, gin, wine, bourbon. The bottles SHIMMER — AMBER,

CRYSTAL, EMERALD, RUBY.

WHIP reaches for a frosted vodka mini bottle — he gently pinches the neck of the bottle and lifts it out of the fridge. He holds up the mini vodka and considers it. Now Whip slowly removes the stopper and smells the White Whiskey. He looks at the bottle once more, then slowly twists the tiny cap back on. With a look of solemn resignation, Whip places the frosted mini bottle on top of the fridge and walks away.

WE STAY CLOSE ON THE BOTTLE. The CAMERA FOCUSES on the small bottle as a small droplet of condensation runs down its side– ever so slowly, slowly. Then suddenly…

WHAP!!! In a flash, WHIP SCOOPS THE VODKA OUT OF FRAME!!

Talk about dark night of the soul! Anyone who has ever struggled with substance abuse or known anyone who has will recognize the truth in this scene. You want complexity in a character? Find the true double bind—cannot take that drink, cannot stop himself from taking that drink…what does he do? The essence of conflict.

So they find him crashed out, utterly wasted, bloody, having drank not just all the gin but the vodka, rum and whisky too. Everything! The President of the Pilot’s Union and this upstanding lawyer then call John Goodman—aka Dr. Feelgood—for a cocaine hangover treatment (talk about gray characters!) slap him in a suit and get him to the NTSB hearing.

Whip is flying through, looking free and clear, able to carry on with his career, able to keep lying about his addiction, unless this happens:

A picture of Trina’s beautiful smiling face FLASHES UP ON THE BIG SCREEN.

ELLEN BLOCK: Is it your opinion that Katerina Marquez drank the vodka on the plane?

WHIP smiles at the photo of TRINA as if she can see him. He then shakes his head to snap from the memory of her great spirit. He gets serious as he bears his look down on ELLEN.

WHIP: Can you repeat the question?

ELLEN BLOCK: Your opinion Captain. Is it your opinion that Katerina Marquez drank on that flight?

Whip shakes. He runs his trembling hand through his hair.

WHIP: I’m sorry. My what…

ELLEN BLOCK: Since her toxicology report is the only toxicology report that is admissable in this hearing, and she in fact tested positive for alcohol, is it your opinion that Katerina Marquez drank those 2 bottles of vodka on the flight?

Whip drops his head and MUTTERS SOMETHING INAUDIBLE.

ELLEN BLOCK (CONT’D): I’m sorry Mr. Whitaker, I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?

WHIP: I SAID…God help me…

A confused MUMBLE rises in the room. Whip’s response flusters ELLEN for a moment, but she recovers quickly.

ELLEN BLOCK: Yes, well. However, is it your opinion…

WHIP: It’s my opinion…Trina DID NOT…drink the vodka.

ELLEN BLOCK: Excuse me, Mr. Whitaker…

WHIP: (softly, to himself) She saved that boy’s life…

ELLEN BLOCK: Captain Whitaker can you speak louder-

WHIP: (loud again) I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT SHE DID NOT DRINK THAT VODKA…

Whip stops. His whole body trembles, his face tightens. He looks right at ELLEN…

WHIP (CONT’D)… because I did. I drank the vodka.

The crowd gasps, unsure of what they just heard…

WHIP leans close to the microphone.

WHIP: I drank the vodka bottles on the plane.

ELLEN BLOCK: Mr. Whitaker, in light of that remark, would you like to readdress…

WHIP: You don’t have to readdress anything. I DRANK THE VODKA!

ELLEN BLOCK: On the three nights before the accident, October 11th-

WHIP: On October 11th, 12th and 13th and 14th I was intoxicated. I drank alcohol on all of those days. I drank to excess.

Chaos erupts further as REPORTERS outnumber SECURITY. Flash bulbs pop repeatedly and large lights are aimed at the fracas on stage as video is taken of the bizarre melee.

ELLEN BLOCK: Mr. Whitaker, on the morning of October-

WHIP: I was drunk. I’m drunk right now, Miss Block…I’m drunk right… (Whip finally breaks down) I’m drunk now, because… Because I’m an alcoholic.

We have pushed into a tight shot on WHIP’s face as the sound in the room fades away. We stay tight on WHIP’s face as he lets the moments unfold.

Suddenly the noise cuts to silence. WHIP is looking at the assembly. WHIP wipes tears from his eyes. We hear WHIP’s voice as the dialogue pre-laps the image of his face.

WHIP (V.O.): That was it…I was done. It’s as if I’d hit my life long limit for lies.

A new angle shows WHIP speaking these words…

WHIP: I could not tell one more lie. And maybe I’m a sucker. Because if I had just told one more lie? I could have walked away from that whole mess and kept my wings and my false sense of pride and most importantly I would have avoided being locked up here with all of you nice folks for the last 13 months.

We hear laughter as we pull out from WHIP to realize that he is in fact wearing a white penal jumpsuit and leading an AA meeting in a Federal Prison.

WHIP (CONT’D): It looks like I will serve every day of the remaining 4 plus years of my sentence. And that’s fair. I betrayed the public trust. I did. That’s what the judge explained to me. I had betrayed the public trust. The FAA took my license. And that’s fair. The chances of me flying again are slim to none. And I accept that.

INT. MCRAE FEDERAL PENITENTIARY — GEORGIA — DAY

A large room houses an AA meeting for about 50 inmates wearing white jumpsuits. WHIP continues his story.

WHIP: I’ve had time to think about all of it. Doing a lot of writing. I’ve written letters to each of the families that lost loved ones on my flight. Some were able to hear my apology, some never will. I’ve also apologized to all the people who tried to help me along the way, but I couldn’t or wouldn’t listen, like my wife, I mean my ex wife…(he gets emotional) …and my son. Again, some were able to forgive me…some never will. (collects himself) But at least I’m sober, and I’m grateful for that. And this is gonna sound really stupid coming from a man who’s in prison…but for the first time in my life…I’m free.

Whit is convicted and sent to prison for five years. He’ll never fly again. The life that he knew is over. And he speaks happily about being free for the first time? Yeah, it’s called a gray character, compelling and true.

Forget that the script is 149 pages. Never mind that John Gatins writes in endless camera angles, unfilmables, we sees and we hears, capped screen direction, dialogue, and character names throughout…when you conceive imagery like a plane flying inverted or plumb the depth of substance abuse to give us powerful, complex characters—you’re going to sell your script.

 

 

 

 

 

 

• DAY 11: 4-19-13

Goodbye to the comfortable womb that was our Jackson Avenue Board of Trade Offices. Goodbye to the entire second floor we were living in for a full month,  to the hundred $200 buck mesh biz chairs, the snack room, and to the rat that ate director Boris Wexler’s box of chocolates. Haven’t mentioned our unofficial mascot previously but yes, we did have an intrudor on set for the last month. There was a rat and rumors of a rat spreading during our downtown filming. There were sightings, uncomfirmed…in the makeup department, in wardrobe, hither and thither, shadows seen. He was a big fucker, word had it. Who knows, maybe he just wanted in on the catering. No Mickey D’s on this shoot!

We transitioned this week, from rat to mouse. Caged. The name of Allen was given to our brown-spotted, four-legged marsupial by a Kickstarter doner. $750 and you get to name Falcon’s pet mouse. He was happier than the proverbial pig-in-shit, being fed grapes half the size of his body, pieces of a fruit bar and some caffeinated energy drinks by adoring crew. He was also a party mouse, fully awake all the way until 4 a.m. when we wrapped today’s shoot.

Our new digs this weekend were Falcon’s apartment. Great location, spacious two-bedroom, two-bath Chicago apartment graciously donated to our micro-budget operation. Thanks to EVERYONE who donated space to help us. Just another piece of the good vibes happening for this movie—just seems like it came together, in this case, at the last minute. Our great location manager (—-) came upon this cool, brick-walled apartment and got the owner’s approval at the very end of our search.

With the killing and blood-spilling done last week, this week’s scenes are primarily to do with Falcon (Rush Pearson). Dialogue scenes kicking in. No Woody Allen-style monologues but two or three emotional speeches for both Falcon and Annie (Marielle de Serra Rocca). Falcon talks about what it was like to lose function in his eyes, and shortly after, to lose touch with his daughter Mary Rose.  Annie talks about the loss of a loved bird, and relations with her alcoholic mother. No guns this week, just intensity of our lead actors on display.

This is a movie that unfolds through computer screens. Themes of disconnection and isolation play out behind the filters of internet chat cameras. Our director (Boris Wexler) was challenged early trying to dream up not just how this would look, but how it would be filmed. When two folks are having a conversation via computer how would we, with limited resources, practically film that? Two weeks ago Boris filmed the Mary Rose scenes in her downtown chat room. You film her side of things, speaking into the computer that will be Falcon. This week we film the other side of it, actually tying in the shot Mary Rose scenes into Falcon’s computer so when Rush does the scene he’s actually talking to Mary Rose—or so it appears. The actress playing Mary Rose isn’t even on set (Caitlin Collins). Nor are the pair of other actresses who previously shot scenes and who are replayed live for Rush and Annie to play against tonight. Hitchcock teaches that movie-making is the juxtaposition of images for manipulated effect. It’s also about pure illusion and we do our share here, making it appear that Falcon is talking to Mary Rose online, live.

• ·         DAY 12 4-20-13

Saturday night in Boys Town! Just because we said goodbye to the Jackson Avenue sax guy who pretty much haunted us every day of our downtown shoot, doesn’t mean we don’t have some sound issues up here in Wrigleyville. Lots of happy folks letting out of the bars around 2am, exactly the time when we’re filming the most intense dialogue scenes between Annie and Falcon.

The layout of this apartment is ample, for two people. We have a nightly crew of  25! Attempting to find a space you can call your own, a few of us are sent out onto the porch deck where—Chicago being Chicago—it’s freaking 39 degrees on April 20! I mean, c’mon! This is why people just LEAVE TOWN. Some folks also hang in the hallway but we’re cognizant that this is someone else’s home and that the neighbors might not be quite as enthused as we are about making a movie at 3 a.m.

We’re running two cameras on Annie’s big monologue scene. Annie is a tough character and Marielle has kept a leash on obvious emotions the entire shoot. This may be the one moment where the character shows some vulnerability, something that we’ve got to have. Now, it’s one thing to say you’ve got to have it, but how you go about getting that performance on a tight schedule, with camera-light-space-time considerations is another matter. And…action! Marielle is a total pro and stands-and-delivers tears for take after take. Ever wonder how actors can pull that off? Emotional recall is a bitch and saline tears are always handy in case the actor just can’t get there. Tonight, that wasn’t an issue. Beautiful job, Marielle!

 

• ·         DAY 13 4-21-13

Being Writer-On-Set isn’t a thankless task. It’s not a task at all. You’re irrelevant, unless there’s a moment where a script change actually has to happen. In a previous movie I directed/wrote, Jane Doe, when we weren’t even close to making our days, I would have to draw up daily bridges from scenes A to C because we never filmed Scene B. The movie no longer made sense without Scene B and I had to work fast to write new connections and dialogue to give the information that would have come from the scene we never filmed.

Here on Chat, that just hasn’t happened. We’ve made our day, every day. There have only been two times when director Boris Wexler turned to me for a word or line. Tonight, for instance, we weren’t going to film a scene because of time considerations. There’s a moment in the dialogue where Falcon says “She disappeared…into there.” Because we weren’t filming the computer we had to come up with a line change, and did so in about ten seconds. Piece of cake.

No matter how much I’d like input into the process of creating the scene in terms of blocking, or influencing an actor’s emotion for any given scene, I know that my wisest course is probably just staying THE FUCK out of the way and letting Boris and DP Fred Miller make the movie happen. This, of course, is likely not  to be the movie in my mind. The look of this film that I, the writer, saw before we starting shooting, the movie in my mind, was stripped down, a realistic look to it with stylized actor intentions ala Lynch. This movie would live a shade or two into stylized reality. What’s shaping up is just the reverse. Boris’ vision is more realistic performances and stylized look. Saturated colors are giving us an almost Dick Tracy look. It’s not the movie in my mind, and you know what….that’s fine!  CHAT doesn’t have to be the movie in my mind. It just has to work.

Thus, in the course of staying out of people’s way, my on-set duties have recently involved the new title of COFFEE BITCH. I am happy to be coffee bitch to our marvellous DP Fred Miller. To keep him caffeinated through these crazy 4 a.m. shooting schedules.  Others on the crew have caffeine needs too and the least I can do is make a 1:30am Starbucks run for these noble fellows making my movie happen. The Chat coffee list tonight looked like this: Chai, two shots of expresso; Café Americano with steamed soy; Skim milk Latte shot of expresso; Grande Mocca; 7 Tall Coffees….

When I’m not the Coffee Bitch I’ve been taking photos of the shoot for social media purposes. We’ve got weekly updates going out over my blog here at Script Gods, at www.moviebytes.com, plus the 2X a week posts on Escape Films at Facebook. A once-a-week video clip (taken by me) is also going out to our Kickstarter backers to give them a backstage look at Chat. In the realm of micro-budget, this is essential activity. Building a niche audience has to happen. We want to bring people into the experience of making the movie on every level. That might mean creating a small-part for a big enough donor; it might mean naming the lead character’s pet mouse; it can also mean getting advice and suggestions from our backers on everything from the movie’s title down the costume a character might wear.

The look Fred Miller and crew have given us tonight is a wonderful amber look. In the script it’s described as an apartment lit by 15 watt light bulbs. The sanctuary of a man with photophobia, a disease of the eye concerning light. Our team has made it look these brick walls look exactly so, the big scene being Falcon entertaining Annie after their first meeting. Falcon tells of how his eyes degenerated and how Mary Rose left; Annie agrees to ask around and help find her. Rush Pearson—after having his “red eyes” applied—stands and delivers a powerful monologue. We have to be out of this apartment tonight and the pressure’s on all concerned to get adequate but inspired coverage within our 12 hour timeframe. Another 4 a.m. close out, the days blur one into another, but this movie is coming together.

Two weekends to go.

 

• DAY 14: 4-26-13

I owe it to Falcon (Rush Pearson) and the Hot Dog Vendor (Rich Cotovsky) to attempt to list every sound source disturbance in our shooting the single scene that was the Hot Dog Vendor monologue. For whatever purpose, I decided to give the biggest monologue of the movie to a ONE SCENE character in, yes, an exterior night shot. This sort of thing might have been fine for Preston Sturges with an unlimited budget for his 1930’s comedies, but not so hot for micro-budget digital movie-making circa today. Notoriously difficult to shoot exterior night scenes for just such sound troubles. The cast and crew attempt to lay it on the line and throw down against the dark forces outside our Weekend 6 location on Erie Street. A smattering of these were:

—The loose manhole cover that jiggled metalic for every car that ran over it.

·         —The beeping gate of the parking garage that rang out like a warning bell on Star Trek Deep Space 9.

·         —The drunken Erie Street bar hoppers whose fascinating drunk speak babble was oh so more important than respecting some dinky micro-budget trying to make its day.

·         —The passing EMT van, cop cars, cop wagon, limo, pizza delivery guys, and a dozen other rubberneckers who slowed vehicles to a crawl to gape out on what might have been the filming of the final first-season episode of Chicago Fire, but alas, was only us.

·         The same vehicles attempting to park in the two parking spaces cleared out by Chat crew to have ample views of the location across the street. PA’s and the writer himself were dispatched as living lawn chairs in the great Chicago tradition of saving cleared parking spaces. Unfortunately, this only works in winter.

·         –The sirens in downtown skyscraper chasms howling…

·         –The skateboarders click-clacking…

·         –The Harley-engines revving…

·         –The small dogs of high-rent paying owners, late-night walked whilst yip-yapping…

·        — The constant Muddy Waters from yet another ubiquitous Friday night sports bar…

These and a dozen others. Truly amazing Cotovsky pulled it off, standing and delivering that monologue time and again like some cross between Abby Hoffman and Charles Manson. There are scenes that great movies, and even mediocre movies, will always be remembered by. When you watch Chat don’t forget I told you about the hot dog vendor scene. You’re will remember it.

And for you screenwriters, PLEASE limit those exterior night shots!

• DAY 15: 4-27-13

On the subject of memorable scenes, there were a couple tonight straight out of a Lynchian nightmare. Mulholland Drive-land. Without giving too much story away, poor Syd (Rick Peebles) is made to atone for a plan gone bad by lady liposuctionist Dr. Lauren (Cheryl Graeff). Fun Fact Trivia Question: Name the last female movie antagonist who was a liposuction doctor? Answer: None. Google away, the idea of a lady bad guy who also runs a plastic surgery complex is a new one. Cheryl terrifies in the role and  her makeup plays a big part. From the crew we heard Star Trek Voyager with her wet, slicked back hair. Also, Tilda Swinton from some zombie movie; white-caked cheeks, an apparition, the slayer of men.

The big Dr. Lauren/Syd scene is set in the chamber of horrors– the liposuction room. Something Room 101-like about the lady doctor strapping Syd down and forcing him to memory-recall every event that contributed to his oh-so-sad life. “Think about all the times the kids called you Fatty.” As she paces over him in white smock, the look of the torture chamber is blue and DP extraordinaire (Fred Miller) has made the rig to end all rigs, allowing our Canon 5D to pull down right into the mouth of poor slob Sydney. Part-Lynch but part Coen Brothers, it’s a funny-as-shit moment long as it’s not YOU in the chair, the wannabe-mobster screaming for his very life!

This scene wrapped yet another 12-hour day. While it’s tough to do a 12-hour turnaround, the director (Boris Wexler) rightly notes how it’s even tougher to do the 20-hour variety. For instance, if your body gets used to graveyard shift, you get in a routine and sleep normally, even if you retire at 8am. Here though, shooting 8pm to 8am, to then attempt sleep normally and be back ready to go at 11am is difficult indeed. Anyone who has ever attempted to work graveyard part-time will understand the feeling. But no time to bitch and moan, like our director says, “Moving on!”

• DAY 16: 4-28-13

A special shout out to Dr. Rodger Wade Pielet for use of his offices at 1 E. Erie. Things were looking mighty bleak in our location search for a plastic surgeon’s office before he rode in like the cavalry! The cast and crew of Chat  have once again taken over the entire floor, making use of every corner and nook. This includes the procedure rooms complete with dentist-like, fully reclining chairs, towels, and the machines that remold and shape the customers who patronize our good doctor. Also bearing notice: nick-knacks in the doctor’s office itself: The radio remote controlled two-foot long helicopter, the tequila bottle shaped as a pistol, and the never-to-be forgotten plastic-mold, squeeze-toy, stress-relieving, foam breasts. We have never seen their like in this world before….

The good doctor is on set today looking over the two major dialogue scenes we’re filming. Compared to what went on Friday night these are tame by comparison (and perhaps it’s a good thing the doctor wasn’t on hand to see the Syd “therapy in blue” scene!) In one scene Dr. Lauren talks of the human “biological materials” she has in a red thurmus-style device. The real doctor tells Boris if we had come just a couple days before he could have donated all the real sucked-up fat we could handle.

Now that’s an image we could happily… just…leave alone.

Between the two scenes, we film SIX pages in half-a-day. Not too shabby! Especially when you consider that they shut the air off completely on weekends. Happened to us in our Board Of Trade location too. No air on weekends. Not a biggie when it’s 35 outside. Alas, we’ve turned the corner on winter in the final days of April. It’s a beautiful 75 outside, making it downright brutally hot in here, airless, though not without sound issues.

The city that never shuts the hell up contributed again today with EMT vehicle sirens, car horns, car alarms…three members of the crew even swore they heard a cat wailing. We got through it with Rush and Cheryl delivering savage lines take after take. Film the two scenes completely from one side, pull in from the master to the medium to the close shot, then reverse, spice it up with some handheld… Looking damn good.

Last weekend, coming up!

 

 

 

One of my all-time favorite articles is by a fellow you probably have never heard of, Allan Heifetz, who at one point or another in his life found himself making a buck as a script reader.  The powers-that-be, the money people, the people with an actual vote on whether your script is actually made, are not reading your script until it clears multiple levels of readers. Readers are EVERYWHERE. You will not advance at any screenwriting contest, any production company, any agency, without the script getting some sort of thumbs-up from the withered and withering eyes of the Reader. The new dynamic of Micro-Budget and DIY filmmaking makes the Reader somewhat less important.  But, on any level, true liberation is at hand the day you no longer need other people’s money. If you have the money, shit, you can’t write your script in crayon. You can write it in 12 different fonts. If you do not have the money, without an agent, without contacts, you’re doing it Old School, meaning you have to beat the Reader.

You’re going to want to get into the head of the Reader, like getting into the head of the enemy. Figure out how they think, possible red flags for your script, etc.

Enter Allan Heifetz. This article puts you into that guy’s mind. Surprisingly, this is a really funny place to be. I found this article originally on Film Threat. Enjoy!

CONFESSIONS OF A GENIUS SCRIPT READER

“According to Quentin Tarantino, if a rookie screenwriter wants to get their script read by the right people in Hollywood they must first find a way to bypass the script readers. In the director’s eyes, a reader will never recommend you since they’re frustrated writers themselves and don’t want anyone else to succeed. Tarantino was killing me softly with his advice, telling my whole life, with his words, killing me softly. Yes, I do read scripts on occasion for extra cash and I’m also currently writing a script that I know everyone will hate and that I’ll never finish anyway. However, I assure you that we readers have nothing but respect for the show-offs who actually complete a script. It’s more accurate to say that we’re hoping your script is very, very, very bad.
You see, in the world of a script reader, the only thing worse than a bad script is a good script. If by some miracle I get a dreaded “quality” script then I have to go and explain exactly why it’s good and be all celebratory and nurturing and sincere. What a pain in the ass. A script reader’s job is supposed to be simple; you must reassure the client that the huge pile of scripts on his desk is pure trash and not worth considering. It’s just so cushy to coast on the tsunami of Final Draft excrement that flows my way…  Alas, the nastiest comment I can get away with is a “The story lacks freshness”, or a “Doesn’t have the depth to fully explore the issues that it raises.”
Most people can’t write. Alas, it’s not my place to say such things or to decide what the public wants. After all, there seems to be a sizeable army of loonies who, after a long day of cackling in the street have managed to scrape together some complete sentences on their Apple II’s and, more incredibly, were able to dump their psychotic manifesto on a movie exec’s desk. To them I say congrats (and, no I don’t have any spare change), but when it comes to this grade of screenplay, one should interpret the list of “attached stars” on the cover page rather as a directory of people the author will systematically stalk and kill if no one returns his calls.
I’m not sure why Tarantino assigns us bottom feeders so much power… I’m well aware the job I’m doing could be done by any unpaid intern. However, I’d like to think I know what I’m talking about. I went to film school, ok? Need I say more? I think I just might know a little bit more about movies than Mr. and Mrs. Joe Stupid-ass out there. FYI: I make four to five grand a year doing this shit. You ever made that much scratch in such a miniscule period of time? Didn’t think so. So sit back and be schooled. Thanks to reading hundreds of examples of what not to do, I now know exactly how not to write a movie. And hey, isn’t that almost as good as knowing how to write one? In my book* it is. It’s high time I use my negative writing powers for the benefit of mankind. Allow me to steer you past the typical rookie mistakes that make readers like myself hate your script.

THE GOLDEN DONT’S

1. Voiceovers, Flashbacks and fourth wall breakin’: Don’t You Dare!

If you’re a beginning screenwriter looking to kick-start your saga with some empty gimmickry, your desperate mind will immediately run to old Auntie Flashback and Uncle Voiceover for help. Don’t do it. If you think you can use these shaky devices in a fresh and new way you’re wrong.

A flashback can be a dangerous thing in the hands of an amateur and unless you’re writing Memento II: Assignment Miami Beach, it’s a good idea to steer clear of them. Beginners love to send readers on a purposeless trek back and forth in time without contemplating the benefits or what the point is. All script readers suffer from chronic chronological whiplash because of these jokers. The worst offenders spend so much time in the past that the “present” becomes but a vague and distant concept that wecan never really grasp. Films like Memento and Pulp Fiction are guilty of convincing no-talent writers that the “present” is strictly squaresville. Perhaps I’m old-fashioned but I sort of dig the present; it’s where I spend a good hundred percent of my time. To quote Mr. Jesus Jones; right here, right now, there is no other place I’d like to be.

Voiceovers: nobody likes ‘em (see Bladerunner). In documentaries the voiceover can be a powerful tool (see Grizzly Man), but there’s something about fiction films that render VO’s unnecessary. A movie isn’t a book on tape with visual aid. If a few short lines of dialogue or a telling silent moment can speak volumes, why would an audience benefit from being told anything?
Newbies also love to break the fourth wall. These fools must think they have super strength. “Hulk smash fourth wall! Aaargh! Hulk need to address audience for lighthearted and wacky fun! Hulk’s rom-com is effervescent and delightful! Aargh!” Unfortunately, once you have a character address the camera you are essentially saying that your movie takes place in a magical fantasy land where anyone can talk to a theatre full of people from another dimension whenever one feels the need to vent. What’s worse is that many writers use the fourth wall break only a handful of times only to drop it early on as if the main character eventually grew tired of sharing….
I’m sure that anyone can site instances where these gimmicks were used wisely, but why not err on the side of caution? You already have so many factors stacked against you, such as your inability to write. Why make it harder on yourself?

2. Swearing

Sometimes a script isn’t so much a screenplay, per se, as an excuse for the writer to use swear-words in really clever ways, i.e., “Halleh-fuckin-luyah!” Many writers specialize in crafting unique combinations of swears and/or inventing new ones like fucknuts, a recently discovered gem. Modern cuss artists are way too concerned with swearing and overestimate its importance as a communication tool. Sometimes their scripts even feature mini-discussions about swearing. My favorite example:

MAN #1
(insulting MAN #2)
Mother fuckin’ faggot!

MAN #2
Isn’t that a contradiction?

Touché. I love swearing, I assure you, but at a certain point, repeating the f-word isn’t writing, just swearing. After all, how many times can one say fucknuts before it loses all meaning?

3. Thesaurus Abuse

Some writers work hard on maintaining a rich and varied vocabulary palette from which to paint their story. Mixing things up word wise is certainly a good thing– for a book report or a term paper on Micronesia. Thesaurus-toting writers don’t understand how movies operate or where a film’s power comes from. With movies, however, an audience couldn’t care less if a character is articulate or the least bit intelligent. Your dialogue need not be eloquent, unique or even interesting. What matters is the psychological makeup of the character saying the words, as well as the circumstances in which he’s saying them. “Please pass the butter”, might be a dull phrase but if someone says it while wrapped in a straight jacket and writhing around in a padded cell, then maybe we’ll listen.
Thesaurus addicted writers never bother to visualize their characters saying their precious dialogue out loud, in a big screen context. Perhaps they subconsciously already know what we know; that their movie isn’t going to make it to the big screen, little screen, or even one of them crappy one inchers seen in the stands at football games.
If you must choose an alternative word, pick one that human beings have actually uttered within the last few hundred years. I always see fossilized words imbedded in dialogue that seem to have come directly from my 11th grade English class vocabulary list. Words like pneumatic, for example, which one particular author chose to repeat twice in the span of a page. I believe it was used thusly: “Oh, that’s so pneumatic, dude!”, and, “Way to be pneumatic, asswipe!”

4. Names and Titles

What’s in a name? A whole lotta nuthin. Let me list a few characters I’ve had the pleasure of meeting lately; Dusken, Melvah, Floridia, and Frederix. Pleased to meet you all; what ultra-pretentious planet do you hail from? Rule of thumb, if a particular character’s name can’t be found in a 50,000 Baby Names book, the writer has sadly succumbed to the name game, in which names of characters tend to have incongruous syllables forced together like Farken, Morfblatt and Gotvill. This name obsession is what ruined Fight Club for me. Tyler Durden? Yeah, right.

SULTRY VOICE (on phone)
My name’s Bambi Gamble.

BOBBY
That’s an interesting name.

Here we see the author congratulating himself on yet another kick-ass name. It takes the razor-sharp Bobby eighty pages to bring up the last name of his love interest.

BOBBY (to Felicia)
What kind of a name is Quattlebaum?

Is it Jewish? How quirky and hilarious!

6. Soundtrack Advice

Just as a script can deteriorate into a swearing dictionary it can also morph into a playlist of songs currently cramming up the author’s IPOD mommy got him for graduation. If the author is suggesting certain tunes at certain intervals throughout his script, we have gone in the wrong direction once again. For example:

EXT. CEMETERY – CONTINUOUS

Durden’s coffin is lowered into the ground as Poison’s Every Rose Has its Thorn gives the scene a sad, introspective mood.

INT. MOVIE THEATRE – WEEKS LATER

Frederix and Melissfah lean in for a passionate kiss. Lionel Richie’s Dancing on the Ceiling takes them to a higher romantic plane.

INT. KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS

Mr. Morfblatt lifts the toilet lid and unzips his pants as Cutting Crew’s, I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight wraps him and us in a soft ethereal blanky.

Just like books on tape with pictures, mix tapes with big screen visual accompaniment don’t make film producers drool with excitement. Producers will also not be willing to pay the ridiculous licensing fees for your kick-ass music wish list. However, if you’re Zack Braff and you get the green light for your upper middle class, 20-something white male project, you can literally have people in your movie telling you:

“You gotta hear this one song, it’ll change your life I promise you.”
-Natalie Portman to Zach Braff in Garden State

Here, Portman is really speaking for Braff the writer, who wants to share his incredible taste in music with us. So, in a sense, Braff is asking himself, “Hey! What music do I like?”, and answering with, “I’m so happy you asked. The Shins.”

7. Men Writing Women

To be fair, most no-talent writers aren’t sexually, emotionally or even plain ol’ regular retarded. The problem is that their scripts often tell a different story, revealing ugly unconscious desires and hang-ups that they probably didn’t want exposed. This is especially true of male writers who, left to their own devices, often unwittingly create an elaborate patriarchal fantasy world that they themselves rule with an iron penis. Finally they can do with womankind what they’ve always wanted to do. It must be said that even in so-called “quality pictures” you’ll find that the women characters are only there to be humped. If only pumpkins or bottles of Jergens could talk, eh fellas?
The male psyche is a terrible place to visit and we readers must make this journey regularly. I recently read a comedy script in which a group of guys go to Japan to teach English and end up starting a gigolo service where Japanese women pay to perform oral sex on the male prostitutes. Let me repeat that; the ladies would pay the guys to stand there and get blown. Hmmm…might the author have a schlong? In another script a woman confesses she had to “rub one out” in order to be calm enough for sex later. Is this Girlz Gone Wild? More like Girlz Gone Boyz.
Guys, if you’ve never had contact with the opposite sex you are hereby not allowed to put words or anything else for that matter in their mouths. You gotta write what you know and you know nothing, therefore I implore you to stick to these genres:

1. Sci-Fi (as in a movie set on a planet where all women have been eradicated).
2. Military Sagas
3. Prison Dramas

You say you haven’t been to jail or to the front lines? Hang out with your asshole friends for afternoon and record it. Your script is almost complete. If you insist on coming up with women characters then at least rent some Catherine Keener movies and get your mind blown. Listen, buddy, I’m on your side. I just don’t want you to let all our secrets out. Guy code, dude.”

Here’s the latest in the continuing series from the DIY landscape of CHAT. Hopefully those of you about to make your own micro-budgets or eventually want to make one, will glean something from these real-time posts.

• ·         DAY 9: 4/13/13

Weekend 4—Saturday. Final two days downtown at our Board Of Trade offices. This is the most important day of the shoot, bar none. Difficult to give specifics without compromising story, but let’s just say blood will be spilled today. The gun wrangler brought not just a Clorox bottle full, but a spare Jim Beam bottle filled to the brim with the scarlet stuff. Fun fact: The mixture for fake blood is ¾’s corn syrup, ¼ glycerine. Our guy also brought about five guns including a .9mm Beretta, which will be our weapon of choice. The guy’s got a ZZ Top hat and has brought his daughter in on the business to help with the squibs, several of which we’ll be rigging up today.

It takes time, of course, putting characters into identical clothing for take after take and the crew listens to tall tales about our gun guy working on everything from The Dark Knight to Wanted. One fun story included the time a character in dreadlocks was pasted down in a bloody compound so often he was actually stuck to the ground and had to be unpeeled by crew. Another good one was describing his secret for adding texture to a wound: Hash browns! Gives it a greasy, squishy feel should you happen to need a character to stick his fingers inside the fake wound. Lovely!

The thing about writing in guns into your movie which you find out before you even get on set is that, for insurance purposes, you need to pay for an on-duty policeman to oversee the production. In our case, one of Chicago’s finest. Great guy. Fully armed, shooting the shit with our cop character Detective Songa (Craig Harris) and the gun wrangler. He happily busied himself on his cell phone, chowed down with crew, mostly sitting in one of the $200-buck, black mesh Board Of Trade easy chairs. Be advised: If you go overtime on your day, you will be paying Chicago’s finest time and a half, an expense that quickly saps the ‘ol contingency fund. Thus, Good Writer, for micro-budget, as with visual effects and dialogue-heavy exterior night shots—write them in at your own peril.

Yesterday’s late night schedule—8pm to 7am—was highly concentrated on hallway scenes. We’ll leave the story details to the movie but it involved catsuited women leading an Ivy League educated fellow down a darkened corridor on a dog leash. The sick avocado-green lighting attained by DP (Fred Miller) and his crew is shaded like some bad absinthe dream of a Van Gogh painting, or near Lynch’s Blue Velvet. The hallway scenes just a prelude to today’s action in the bathroom.

 

This bathroom is straight Board Of Trade boring, at least it was before Fred Miller and director Boris Wexler got through with it. Its small confines are heavily-geled, reds and greens. The look screams 70’s film ala Hardcore, primary colors glitzy, like a nasty version of Dick Tracy.

There’s a lot at stake when Boris calls action on these killing scenes. There is only so much time in the schedule and so many costume changes allowable by budget. This is the one scene where digital doesn’t save you—you can’t keep going back and doing it over and over. We have four takes to get it right, period. Only a skeleton crew can fit in the bathroom along with the actors and tensions run pretty high as the moment comes. It has to come together, camera, sound, blood effects, performance…the falling of bodies has to be just so in frame; no crew images reflected in the mirror; squibs need to blow perfectly and believably. 3-2-1…Action! How did it come out?

We’ll find out soon enough…

• ·         DAY 10   4/14/13

Chicago, the Windy City. Also the obnoxiously noisy freakin’ city. Shooting indoors today at our Board Of Trade office. The conference room looks out over Jackson Avenue and trying to run dialogue scenes with 3pm activity below? Not ideal. Some of the sound sources that caused us to call “cut” for bad sound today—Passing Brown Line El trains every 7 minutes, passing trolley and Double-decker tourist buses, over-excited Cubby fans just in from Union Station and the western suburbs hooting and hollering in front of the big game with Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh! Add to that squeaky conference room floors, the elevator bings, and Chat-enemy #1-The Saxophone Guy.

Almost the instant we get down to the serious dialogue scene between Syd (Rick Peebles) and Annie (Marielle de Rocca-Serra) the sax guy kicks in with the same awful Sweet Home Chicago serenade, absolutely mocking our attempts at grand cinema. Had to pay him off last week and great, we’re gonna have to pay the dude again. Boris tasks producer Lucy Manda with a “Lucy…the sax guy…hurry…please.” Lucy, sharp as ever, brings our fake cop Craig Harris down with her. You know the stories about heroic citizens lifting cars to free pinned people from traffic accidents? Craig could lift a car himself…with one hand. Five minutes later Lucy and Craig are back, the dulcimer sax tones gone. No bribe funds were paid. Thanks, Craig!

Earlier in the day we are on the street shooting the last of the Falcon exterior shots. Falcon loses his protective glasses and staggers into passerby, unable to handle the bright light. Obviously when you write in these exterior shots you just assume that the production team will get the bright light required on the day you’re shooting. Ah, in Chicago? Even on a sunny day like this, sun only filters through the downtown high-rise canyons, shafts of light amidst shadow. Fred gets the handheld working as Falcon is thrown-out of a building and curses while accidentally stepping on his glasses. The insert takes 20 attempts of getting the glasses to match the master shot, having them fall on the sidewalk in an exact position. They can only be crushed once and Falcon (Rush Pearson) pulverizes them under boot. Thanks to the extras who came out today, including the gentleman who spun tales of some of the 100 movies and TV shows he had appeared in as an extra. Also to our fiesty receptionist (January Stern) who provided a nice punch to a one-line character.

Nail down this last day at our downtown offices. We’ll miss having an entire floor to work on and those $200 buck mesh office chairs, but it’s time to move on. Next week: Falcon’s joint!

Special thanks to Columbia College’s Julian Grant and Del Harvey who have—for about the thousandth time—shared an amazing link on Facebook. This one, from the New York Times, is a series entitled Anatomy Of A Scene. It features key scenes from major movies broken down by the director. I’ve been trying to do something similar in terms of picking scripts and highlighting a key screenwriting feature within each, but c’mon! Who the hell cares what I have to say compared to Quentin Tarantino or David O. Russell?!

Right from the horse’s mouth is best.

Frankly, I’m also in the middle of shooting Chat and haven’t much time. I’ll be sending back weekly progress reports with some backstage production photos when I get the chance.

Meanwhile, rather than a blank blog, here’s the link to the entire Anatomy Of A Scene series. Some of the individual scenes follow. Please bear with the 15 second commercials, the NY Times has to pay its bills too!

Hit the link under each graphic to get to the movie’s video scene and director narration. For this first post we’ll stick to the current batch of Oscar nominees. Enjoy!

• DJANGO UNCHAINED

• MOONRISE KINGDOM

• HITCHCOCK

• SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK

• ARGO

• BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD