2011 September | Script Gods Must Die

 
Screenwriting with attitude


→ Contact

»
S
I
D
E
B
A
R
«
Services

PROFESSIONAL SCREENWRITING SERVICES

Comprehensive, line-by-line screenplay consultancy.

Affordable Prices.

Fast, personal attention.

→ What Do We Offer?

New Book Released!
Purchase your copy of Paul Peditto & Jessie Coleman's Writing Screenplays!.



Pages
  • About Paul Peditto
  • Contact Us
  • Screenplay Consulting Services
  • Subscribe to Script Gods Must Die!
  • Testimonials
Recent Posts
  • Black List 2012- Trends
  • The Monster Concept- Part 2
  • Chat Wraps: Weekends 7 and 8
  • The Graying of Characters– Flight
  • Chat- Weekends 5 and 6
Recent Comments
  • paul peditto on Confessions Of A Genius Script Reader
  • Kaj Kjellesvig on Confessions Of A Genius Script Reader
  • Celesta on Ted vs. Moonrise Kingdom
  • paul peditto on Format: 3: Montage vs. Series Of Shots
  • Drew on Format: 3: Montage vs. Series Of Shots
Search and hit Enter!
The Fallacy of Resolution: Part 2
Sep 24th, 2011 by paul peditto
  • NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN VS. THERE WILL BE BLOOD

Came out together. No Country won four Oscars, including Best Picture and Director. Blood got two including Best Actor. Cream of the crop for 2007.

But something bugged me about No Country For Old Men. Couldn’t put my finger on it. I hadn’t read either book at the time so it wasn’t the adaptation of the source material.

99.9% of directors, after following Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) around for the entire movie, would show the co-protagonist’s death. Not the Coen Brothers. We roll up with Tommy Lee Jones to find Brolin already dead, killed by Mexican hitmen who drive off in a pickup truck. Ballsy choice, but it wasn’t the problem.

It was the ending. I couldn’t get my arms around it. The ambiguity of it. From the IMBD plot synopsis:

“Carla Jean finds Chigurh sitting in her mother’s house. Chigurh explains that he made a “promise” to Moss that he was going to kill her. Chigurh offers that if she calls correctly in a coin toss, he’ll spare her life. Carla Jean dismisses Chigurh’s game, saying that he’s the one who decides on whether or not to kill her, not the coin. He is unmoved, however, insisting on his lack of a free choice in the matter. During this exchange, we see two boys ride past the house on bicycles.

We next see Chigurh walking out of the house, stopping to check his boots, apparently, for blood. Driving off, he is looking at the same two boys in the rear view mirror as he proceeds through the green light when he is suddenly hit broadside by a car speeding through the intersection that he just entered. The other driver appears dead, but Chigurh gets out of his car, his eye nearly popped out of his skull and his bone protruding out of his elbow in a compound fracture. The two neighborhood boys come up to him to see if he’s all right. Chigurh pays the kids for one of their shirts, which he uses to make a rough-and-ready sling for his arm, and to have them not report having seen him. Chigurh limps away down the street.

At Sheriff Bell’s house, he ponders what to do for the day at breakfast with his wife, Loretta (Tess Harper); he is restless in retirement, but she rebuffs his offer to help out around the house, as he will just throw off her established routine. He recounts a dream he had about his sheriff father. Bell dreamed that he and his father were riding a mountain pass in the night. His father, carrying a horn with embers inside that glowed like moonlight, rode ahead into the darkness and disappeared. Though he couldn’t see anything in the dark night, Bell dreamed that he kept riding forward since his father would have a warm fire waiting for him. Bell ends the film with the final words: “And then I woke up.”

Bad guy gets away, good guy dies. Tommy Lee Jones is left to his bad dreams. What the….$#%!?

Compare this to the simplicity of There Will Be Blood, from IMDB:

“As Plainview, like a beast, gnaws the cold steak leftover from his dinner, Eli reveals that old Bandy has died and that his grandson wants to sell the oil drilling rights to his grandfather’s land in order to fund his goal of becoming a movie star — with Eli as the broker for the deal. Plainview agrees but only if Eli will say that he is a “false prophet and God is a superstition.” When Eli does so several times, Plainview reveals that, having owned all the wells around the Bandy ranch, he has already taken the oil from the Bandy property through drainage.

Eli reveals that, despite a successful radio preaching career, he is broke due to bad investments. Plainview chases him around the bowling alley then bludgeons him to death with a bowling pin. When the butler comes to see what the commotion has been, Plainview announces to him, “I’m finished” .”

Eli Sunday dead. Plainview “finished”. Bad guys go down. Simple, clean, the normal retribution meted out in most movies.

No Country is harder to stomach–bad guy gets away, good guys all fucked up–a brutal but great ending because it gives us no easy answers.

  • THE SOPRANOS VS. THE WIRE

I found a great breakdown of The Wire’s last episode here. Here’s a piece of it:

“The finale provided closure by the barrelful for all the human characters — in many ways, it was the antithesis of “The Sopranos” ending — but the one character whose fate remains very much up in the air is Baltimore itself. When the cycle turns round and round — when a Bubbles escapes the junkie life only to be replaced by Dukie, when Carcetti sells out every last principle in order to become governor, when the keys to the police department are taken from Cedric Daniels and handed to Stan Valchek — what can be done to save the city (and, by extension, America)? Can anything? Or was Bunny right last week when he said that there was nothing to be done?…

“Some people I know…thought it provided too much closure, that Simon tried to rush too many endings into 93 minutes — or that he spent time spelling out fates (like Dukie and Michael) that should have been clear from previous episodes. I’ve also heard some complaints that too many characters get something too closely resembling a happy ending (McNulty seems okay with losing his badge, Daniels looks happy as a lawyer) or the direct opposite, that the ending is far too dark (Carcetti is governor, Nerese mayor, Valchek commissioner, Marlo is a free man, Jimmy and Lester and Daniels aren’t cops anymore, Templeton gets a Pulitzer while Gus and Alma are demoted, Dukie’s a junkie, etc.).”

For me, The Wire’s resolution was too dark.  I get it– real life in Baltimore doesn’t comply with happy-ending Hollywood fiction. The power of The Wire is that it never blinks from that brutal Baltimore reality. I’m all for gutsy realism…

But…

Doesn’t make it any easier to watch Marlo Stansfield go free, Carcetti become governer, McNulty and Lester get booted from the force, or my man Omar Little shot by a nine year-old.

Controversy flew about the final episode of the Sopranos in 2007. The black screen ending confused many, some calling it a letdown. Predictable reaction, yet incredible…being as it might be the greatest 60 minutes ever to air on television.

Check out this fantastic interpretation of the ending. Here’s a excerpt:

“‘If you look at the final episode really carefully, it’s all there.’ These are David Chase’s words regarding the finale of the Sopranos. He is right, it is “all there”. This is the definitive explanation why Tony died in Holsten’s in the final scene of The Sopranos…”

Tony dead?! Wait…we didn’t see that.  The hell is the guy talking about? Screen went black, end episode, end Sopranos. What kinda way is that to end the thing?

“Chase uses the ringing of the bell of the door of Holsten’s to signal to the viewer that he will be using the traditional point of view shot discussed above (character looking at something/cut to a shot of what the character is looking at from the character’s POV/cut back to a shot of the character, usually for the reaction). This is repeated five times in the final scene to create a “pattern” that logically concludes that the last “shot” of the series (10 seconds of black and silence) is from Tony’s POV. The implication being that Tony sees “blackness” and “nothingness”. Tony is dead.”

Seeing the killing is too easy. Chase won’t give that to you. You have to piece it together. This isn’t Scarface or Public Enemy or Key Largo. You don’t get to see the gangster die. It’s complex, and complex pisses people off. Classic film resolution is simple, it’s on the plate. The necessity of it is a fallacy, as Chase shows here.

“The bell rings and Tony’s face is shown in close-up looking up to see who is coming through the door (this shot is about 2 seconds). According to the pattern, the next shot should be Tony’s POV of who is coming through the door (this should be Meadow as she is seen about to enter the diner a few seconds before the bell rings). Instead, the screen cuts abruptly to black mid-scene (at the exact spot where we should see Meadow from Tony’s POV) and the audio cuts off. All the viewer sees is “blackness” where Tony’s POV should be. This is Tony’s POV because he is dead. We no longer hear Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing because Tony no longer hears it. In a normal ending, the screen would simply fade to black followed immediately by the credits and the music would probably still be heard. Instead, the blackness and silence lingers for 10 seconds before the credits are shown. This emphasizes the blackness, nothingness and eternal nature of death. The 10 seconds of silent darkness is a scene unto itself-as significant as any image or line of dialogue. Chase originally wanted no credits at all and the blackness to last all the way to the HBO logo … This would further emphasize the eternal nature of death. Tony is dead…”

1 Comment »
Uncategorized
Surivival Strategies For The Unknown Screenwriter: Selling Out Your Brother
Sep 17th, 2011 by paul peditto


The thing about a life lesson is… it’s not butterflies, Pooh Bears or honey pots. You have to pay a price to learn the lesson.

Here’s a story about education the hard way.

SELLING OUT YOUR BROTHER

 

Back in the day I was represented by Writers And Artists. My agent was, oh, let’s call him Mickey Loveless. I was mid-20′s, blissfully ignorant. I wrote a good script that garnered interest and got me signed.

It was based on a play titled: A Fire Was Burning Over The Dumpling House One Chinese New Year. For obvious reasons, the screenplay had a name change to Pictures Of Baby Jane Doe, and finally Jane Doe. My brother had acted the lead and produced three theatrical productions of it. It was understood—at least in the cavernously ignorant recesses of my mind—that he was attached as lead actor. He had steered this project for years in the play’s genesis, was great in the role, and was going to play the male lead, period.

Enter my agent, Mickey Loveless, who called:

“We got a bite. Lilly Taylor read the script, she loves it. She wants to play the lead with her boyfriend, Michael Imperiole. This is great news!”

My response was not enthusiastic. “Yeah, that’s great, but…”

“But?”

“My brother is playing the lead.”

On the other end of the phone–silence. A kinda… LA silence. Then: “Maybe we should rethink our strategy, Paul.”

“How so?”

“Getting a bankable star will get us financing. It’s your first credit. Your brother can be part of your next picture…”

“Yeah, Mickey, I hear ya, but I’ve seen my brother make people weep in our theater in Chicago—”

“Paul, this isn’t your little theater in Chicago.”

“So you want me to sell out my brother?”

“This isn’t about selling out. It’s about selling a script.”

“Can’t we just take her, and not her boyfriend?”

“Lilly won’t come in without Michael.”

“Well…I won’t do it.”

Things were never the same with Mickey Loveless and I after that conversation. Less than a year later I was with William Morris. Eventually we sold the script and made the movie but, for many reasons I don’t need to rehash and truly don’t matter, my directing the movie and my brother acting in it was the worst choice we could have made.

The professional thing would have been to talk with my brother, relate the situation, and make the deal. If the movie had been a commercial success with theatrical release and reviews, there might have been a second or third project to come from it, a career launched.

Didn’t work out that way.

Should I have sold out my brother? At the time, it seemed like I made the right choice. That’s the thing about a life lesson: Ain’t no do-overs.

If you rise from the ocean depths to taste that dizzy Hollywood air, even in your amazement as you drink it in, I encourage you to do as Kipling suggested: Don’t lose your head. The decisions you are about to make will impact your life for keeps, and there’s no going back.




3 Comments »
Survival Strategies For The Unknown Screenwriter
The Fallacy of Resolution
Sep 10th, 2011 by paul peditto


INT. AUDITORIUM – MORNING

Kaufman, bleary-eyed, sits in the back. McKee paces.

MCKEE

Anyone else?

Kaufman timidly raises his hand.

MCKEE

Yes?

KAUFMAN

You talked about Crisis as the ultimate decision a character makes, but what if a writer is attempting to create a story where nothing much happens, where people don’t change, they don’t have any epiphanies. They struggle and are frustrated and nothing is resolved. More a reflection of the real world--

MCKEE

The real world? The real fucking world? First of all, if you write a screenplay without conflict or crisis, you’ll bore your audience to tears. Secondly: Nothing happens in the real world? Are you out of your fucking mind? People are murdered every day! There’s genocide and war and corruption! Every fucking day somewhere in the world somebody sacrifices his life to save someone else! Every fucking day someone somewhere makes a conscious decision to destroy someone else! People find love! People lose it, for Christ’s sake! A child watches her mother beaten to death on the steps of a church! Someone goes hungry! Somebody else betrays his best friend for a woman! If you can’t find that stuff in life, then you, my friend, don’t know much about life! And why the fuck are you taking up my precious two hours with your movie? I don’t have any use for it! I don’t have any bloody use for it!

KAUFMAN

Okay, thanks.

The scene from Adaptation brings up an interesting question:

Do you need resolution in your script?

I’m distrustful of absolutes in screenwriting, words like: Must. Always. Never.

The notion that you must have resolution is a fallacy. The real answer is a bit more complex… It depends on the movie.

CLOSEUP TERMINATOR, as the chain drive brings it into view. Half human flesh, half chrome steel. His red eye gazes right at us as he -- FIRES.

210A The T-1000 takes the round in the belly. The grenade EXPLODES inside its body. A huge hole is blown clean through it, and it is ripped open and peeled back, half inside-out. It topples into the molten steel and

-- 211 The T-1000′s head and upper body reappear above the molten steel. It is screaming. A terrifying, inhuman siren of a scream. It is changing, morphing, transforming into anything and everything it’s ever been so rapidly the eye can barely follow it -- We catch a glimpse of Janelle Voight checkered with the linoleum tile colors, Lewis the Guard with knives exploding from his face, other faces, switching at a stroboscopic rate now... a face every two frames until they merge into one face --

The T-1000 screams and slips beneath the surface of the molten steel. We see liquid silver running in dissipating whorls over the superheated surface... until it vanishes, swirling into nothing.

212 JOHN runs to Sarah. She stands staring into the pit. The empty shotgun slips from her fingers. Clatters to the floor. He sees that she’s okay and he runs to the fallen Terminator.

212A The crippled cyborg is trying to rise. Its servos whine and stutter. It pathetically lifts itself to a kneeling position, collapses... tries again. John lifts for all he’s worth. Sarah joins them, helping. The help the crippled machine get on its feet. It can barely stand.

TERMINATOR

I need a vacation.

They walk to the edge of the pit. Terminator looks down and sees that it is over.

JOHN

Is it dead?

TERMINATOR

Terminated.

 

Terminator 2 needs a resolution. The T-1000 must die. Sara Conner, John Conner must live. The audience, unconsciously, knows and expects this. The entertainment comes, and the magic of the filmmakers, in making us believe that John Conner could die.

Same with Neo in The Matrix. I don’t care how fast Agent Smith moves, how formidable an adversary he is–Neo can’t die! Not if there’s going to be Parts 2 and 3.

When was the last time James Bond died in a 007 movie?

Did you really think Nemo was going to get eaten by sharks? Or not be re-united by his ocean-fearing Dad? These endings have to happen. It’s a credit to the writers and filmmakers that they make an audience believe it could end badly.

What would happen if Nemo actually did get eaten?

Think of the wailing six year-olds, the livid parents never, ever paying for a Pixar movie again!

Resolution is essential for tentpole movies with mass audiences: Shrek, Pirates Of The Caribbean, Harry Potter, Iron Man, X-Men, Spiderman, Toy Story…

Failure to provide resolution would be box office suicide. Such a movie would never get made. Got to have closure for John Travolta and Nick Cage in Face Off…

But…

How about Faces?

What do you think John Cassavetes would have said if you told him Faces needed a firmer resolution?  As necessary as closure is for a movie like Terminator, it’s equally non-essential in a movie like Faces.


How about Altman? Take away the movies where he didn’t wrap things up in a neat, clean bow of resolution, how many Altman movies would be left?

Oddly, or maybe not so, the further away from Hollywood and the Studios, the less essential seems to be the need for resolution.

Foreign filmmakers feel no such story restraints. Fellini, for example.

Also free of the confines of Studio expectation are low-budget films. Raise your budget on Kickstarter, chances are you’re going to end your movie exactly as you like–resolution or no.  This includes a 12 year-old making his first film with a Sony Handycam, and David Lynch, too…

Major directors aren’t bound by the need for resolution. That’s not essential to storytelling, nor why people go to the movies.

People go to movies to be moved. Emotion is the key. Your own personal vision and experience transmuted into a universal statement that resonates with an audience. Writing characters they can invest in, love or despise, the audience going along for the ride…to the end of the line.

This is the heart of storytelling.

 

 

 

Post Your Comment! »
Uncategorized
Xtranormal Movies
Sep 2nd, 2011 by paul peditto

It’s September, summer’s over. Rewriting syllabi for Colombia College I found myself in need of a laugh or two, I came upon Xtranormal movies. The banner reads: If you can type, you can make a movie.

Pick a template, choose one actor or two, write the dialogue and decide on “camera angles”. Computer voices give life to stripped down 3D style characters.

The first one I came upon was on the John August site. It’s called Hope Springs Eternal. Who would have thought the follow-up franchise to Transformers would be…Slinky!

Another excellent “movie” is Another Day In Hollywood. Thanks to the Hollywood Temp Diaries…

Some of the best are really funny, and really angry. For instance: Cinematographer vs. Producer.

The last one goes out to the Film & Video department of Columbia College-Chicago.  The Film School Graduate. Three cheers for the Democratization of cinema!


 

 

 

 

Post Your Comment! »
Uncategorized
»  Wordpress Customization and Development: Local Galaxy Web Development  
»  Substance: Chicago Script Consultant, Script Gods Must Die   »  Paul Peditto, Author
 


© All Content Property Script Gods Must Die © 2013