OK, film school is in session…
Thanks to Simply Scripts for assembling The Writer’s Guild Top 101 Screenplays of all time. When you think about free screenplay resources, you think Drew’s Script-O-Rama, you think IMSDB. But Simply Scripts offers something in one click I don’t see on either of these. Go to Simply Scripts, hit the Oscar Scripts tab, and you’ll find this…
2014 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 87th Oscars
2013 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 86th Oscars
2012 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 85th Oscars
2011 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 84th Oscars
2010 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 83rd Oscars
2009 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 82st Oscars
2008 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 81st Oscars
2007 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 80th Oscars
2006 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 79th Oscars
2005 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 78th Oscars
2004 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 77th Oscars
2003 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 76th Oscars
2002 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 75th Oscars
2001 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 74th Oscars
2000 Academy Award Nominated Films – The 73rd Oscars
Yes, that’s every– or almost every– Oscar nominated screenplay, for free, at the click of a button… damn!
Back to the WGA’s Top 101 Screenplay list, here’s what we’ll do… I’ll pick my favorite scene from each movie, find the scene in the script, then put up the YouTube clip below it. Run the scene as you read the script, compare and contrast, check out the action lines, how the lines are laid out on the page, the dialogue changes (if any). It’s the best kind of school for screenwriters and a lot cheaper than paying the near $50,000 tuiton that USC charges these days.
So, vamos!
- #92: PSYCHO
INT. MARY IN SHOWER Over the bar on which hangs the shower curtain, we can see the bathroom door, not entirely closed. For a moment we watch Mary as she washes and soaps herself. There is still a small worry in her eyes, but generally she looks somewhat relieved. Now we see the bathroom door being pushed slowly open. The noise of the shower drowns out any sound. The door is then slowly and carefully closed. And we see the shadow of a woman fall across the shower curtain. Mary's back is turned to the curtain. The white brightness of the bathroom is almost blinding. Suddenly we see the hand reach up, grasp the shower curtain, rip it aside. CUT TO: MARY - ECU As she turns in response to the feel and SOUND of the shower curtain being torn aside. A look of pure horror erupts in her face. A low terrible groan begins to rise up out of her throat. A hand comes into the shot. The hand holds an enormous bread knife. The flint of the blade shatters the screen to an almost total, silver blankness. THE SLASHING An impression of a knife slashing, as if tearing at the very screen, ripping the film. Over it the brief gulps of screaming. And then silence. And then the dreadful thump as Mary's body falls in the tub. REVERSE ANGLE The blank whiteness, the blur of the shower water, the hand pulling the shower curtain back. We catch one flicker of a glimpse of the murderer. A woman, her face contorted with madness, her head wild with hair, as if she were wearing a fright-wig. And then we see only the curtain, closed across the tub, and hear the rush of the shower water. Above the shower-bar we see the bathroom door open again and after a moment we HEAR the SOUND of the front door slamming.
- #77: ADAPTATION
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!
- #73: AMADEUS
SALIERI
These are originals?
CONSTANZE
Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies.
CUT TO:
INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823
The old man faces the Priest.
OLD SALIERI
Astounding! It was actually beyond
belief. These were first and only
drafts of music yet they showed no
corrections of any kind. Not one.
Do you realize what that meant?
Vogler stares at him.
OLD SALIERI
He'd simply put down music already
finished in his head. Page after
page of it, as if he was just taking
dictation. And music finished as no
music is ever finished.
INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S
CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins
to sound under the following:
OLD SALIERI (V.O.)
Displace one note and there would be
diminishment. Displace one phrase,
and the structure would fall. It was
clear to me. That sound I had heard
in the Archbishop's palace had been
no accident. Here again was the very
voice of God! I was staring through
the cage of those meticulous ink-
strokes at an absolute, inimitable
beauty.
The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of
great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and
to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits
happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks
around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping
them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his
agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough
and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and
great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read,
scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles
the room.
Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in
C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable
to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut.
Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head.
He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up,
perplexed.
CONSTANZE
Is it no good?
A pause.
SALIERI
It is miraculous.
- #43: TAXI DRIVER
TRAVIS
(restrained anger)
You carry a gun?
SPORT looks into TRAVIS' eyes, saying nothing: he realizes
the seriousness of the situation.
TRAVIS pulls his .38 Special and holds it on SPORT, pushing
him even further back against the wall.
TRAVIS
Get it.
SPORT
(submissive)
Hey, mister, I don't know what's
going on here. This don't make any
sense.
TRAVIS
(demanding)
Show it to me.
SPORT reluctantly pulls a .32 caliber pistol (a "purse gun")
from his pocket and holds it limply.
104.
TRAVIS sticks his .38 into SPORT's gut and discharges it.
There is a muffled blast, followed by a muted scream of pain.
TRAVIS
Now suck on that.
Agony and shock cross SPORT'S face as he slumps to the floor.
TRAVIS turns and walks away before SPORT even hits.
As TRAVIS walks away, SPORT can be seen struggling in the b.g.
TRAVIS, he gun slipped into his jacket, walks quickly up the
sidewalk.
AROUND THE CORNER, TRAVIS walks into the darkened stairway
leading to IRIS' apartment.
As he walks up the stairs, TRAVIS pulls the .44 Magnum from
behind his back and transfers the .38 Special to his left
hand. He walks up the steps, a pistol dangling from each
hand.
AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS, TRAVIS spots THE OLD MAN sitting
at the far end of the dark corridor. THE OLD MAN starts to
get up when TRAVIS discharges the mighty .44 at him. BLAAM!
The hallway reverberates with shock waves and gun powder.
THE OLD MAN staggers at the end of the corridor: his right
hand has been blown off at the forearm.
There is the sharp SOUND of a GUNSHOT behind TRAVIS: his
face grimaces in pain. A bullet has ripped through the left
side of his neck. Blood flows over his left shoulder.
TRAVIS' .44 flies into the air.
TRAVIS looks down the stairway: there SPORT lies choking in
a puddle of his own blood. He has struggled long enough to
fire one shot.
Falling, TRAVIS drills another .38 slug into SPORT's back
but SPORT is already dead.
TRAVIS slumps to his knees. Down the corridor THE OLD MAN
with a bloody stump is struggling toward him. TRAVIS turns
his .38 toward THE OLD MAN.
The door to No. 2 opens: IRIS' scream is heard in the b.g.
The bulky frame of the PRIVATE COP fills the doorway. His
blue shirt is open, in his hand hangs a .38 service revolver.
The PRIVATE COP raises his gun and shoots TRAVIS. TRAVIS,
blood gushing from his right shoulder, sinks to the floor.
His .38 clangs down the stairs.
105.
THE OLD MAN grows closer. TRAVIS smashes his right arm
against the wall, miraculously, the small Colt .25 glides
down his forearm into his palm.
TRAVIS fills the PRIVATE COP's face full of bullet holes.
The PRIVATE COP, SCREAMING, crashes back into the room.
