CUT TO
THE MAIN STAIRCASE as THE KIDS sprint down. TRIP AND ECHO follow them down; his arm around her shoulder.
CUT TO
CLIMBER getting out of his car, but slowly; the wound not yet completely healed.
CUT TO
THE FRONT DOOR OPENING as THE KIDS hurry out, race to the car, get in their usual spot in the back.
ECHO alone, standing in the doorway.
CUT TO
CLIMBER, standing by his car, looking at her. A nod.
CUT TO
ECHO. Beat. A nod.
TRIP (OVER)
(calling from inside)
Darling? See you on the beach.
ECHO
(calling back)
Catch up with you.
CUT TO
CLIMBER. Beat. Into the car again.
CLIMBER
No tickets today?
CUT TO
ECHO. She forgot. Now she moves to the car, hands tickets inside to him.
CLIMBER
(taking them--with dread)
Performance art in the Village?
ECHO
(her big moment)
Tractor pull in New Jersey.
They look at each other. Then--
CLIMBER
(counting carefully)
There are four tickets here.
She is totally vulnerable now. Just standing there. He's vulnerable too.
Neither of them dares make a move.
Then her nerve starts to leave her, and just as she's about to turn back--
SHIRLEY
Oh get in, Mom.
(to PHOEBE)
They'll probably just louse it up again.
PHOEBE
But of course.
ECHO'S in the car now. One quick touch of hands. Then CLIMBER starts to drive.
And off they go. Into the biggest adventure of all.
FINAL FADE-OUT
Okay, readers, last chance now before the doctors take over. Monday-morning quarterbacking not allowed. Would you make this movie? How would you change it?
How would you cast it? (Nick Cage? Terrific actor, but is he a shade too young? If you were Mr. Time Warner and you heard Nick Cage wanted to play Climber, would you make the movie? What if you heard that George Clooney wanted to do the part--which would you pick? And why? Oops, that was Harrison Ford's agent on the line, he also wants to be Climber. Is he a bit old for it? Would you say goodbye to Nick and George and go with The Fugitive?
You would? Great for me, I'm rich, but if you're a studio executive, you want to do the best you can for your studio, thereby advancing your career, and guess what I know?--Mel is desperate to star. Do you duck Harrison? Are you still back with Nick? What if I tell you that Bruce Willis is driving onto the lot right now and won't leave until you give him the lead?
What's a mother to do?
What scenes do you want to keep? All of them? Great for me again, I don't have to do any more work. Did you like the drowning scene? Did you feel Climber loved his kids? Enough? Not enough? Too much? How would you change things?
Think about all this stuff and try to remember your ideas, because the doctors can be pretty persuasive.
Starting with Peter and Bobby Farrelly. Their suggestions are in the form of an interview because they had day jobs when they got the script, directing Me Myself and Irene. I went up to Vermont and taped them.
In case you want their writing credits, according to the Internet Movie Database they wrote Kingpin, Dumb and Dumber, There's Something About Mary, and Me Myself and Irene, which is due out in summer 2000.
On the drowning scene:
THE FARRELLYS
I remember when I read it I thought, well, first I thought he's rescuing her. Boy, that's not necessary, he just rescued her, and then, when you flip that, I saw what you were doing but I thought, well, we didn't need a reason why he would fall in love with her. Besides, you can't use it because we're using it in the movie we're shooting right now.
On their falling in love:
THE FARRELLYS
You don't have to tell us why he falls for her--everybody falls for her. And I think she falls for him in the scene he has with her father when he gets $25,000 and says you owe me two--he doesn't want more, that's not what he dealt for--
-- and she should hear that scene--maybe not be in the room but she should hear. And that makes her think this guy is different, this guy has a code that he lives by.
On their divorcing (1):
THE FARRELLYS
Got to be a great reason, not the kind you think of right off. Throw those out. Well, they had money issues. She spent too much and he didn't like it and they had a fight. Can't be alcohol. Maybe it's because it's in his blood, what he does, and she's saying, this is crazy, we're rich, you don't have to be doing this risky stuff. Except that's obvious. But the question of the movie is why they split up.
On Act II:
THE FARRELLYS
Act II is what you haven't written yet--Act II is Bogart and Cagney and the kids. And not just for one scene. What if Cagney is the driving force behind the kids joining in--he remembers when Climber was young and his mother said the same thing Climber's saying now--they're young, they're not ready. And they don't just do it for one scene--they're on this case and they're good at it, and maybe there's a scene where they shove Phoebe into a chute and send her away to get a form from a wastebasket and they're watching the room on a fuzzy black-and-white monitor and Phoebe's in the room when all of a sudden someone else comes into the room, someone bad, and they go tearing down a corridor to get to the room when there's a shot--Climber goes nuts and breaks the door down and there's Phoebe with a gun of her own and the guy with his hands up and Phoebe says Grandpa gave me the gun and Climber is about to kill Jimmy for this and Jimmy says to Climber, "What are you, crazy? I'm not going to send my granddaughter in there without a gun."
On the kidnapper:
THE FARRELLYS
Trip is too obvious. Remember the guy who he meets with? He's like a judge or something. He's coming across as a great guy--"I'm representing the family" and all that. That should be the guy behind the kidnapping, because you've got a smoke screen.
On their divorcing (2):
THE FARRELLYS
Back to the divorce for a second--what if they broke up because he did something that he had to do? In his mind, he was stubborn, he did the right thing. But it embarrassed her family. He's on a case and he finds out something and she says hey wait a second, I'm asking you, let them off, don't push that. And he can't not push it because he's a moral guy. And he pushed and they broke up because she felt he betrayed her. But the trick is, what you don't find out till the end is, he didn't say everything he knew. He let the person off easy. He knew way more, her whole family was going to get pulled in. She thinks he went all the way but he has a whole trunkful of stuff he never blew open and that's revealed at the end but not by him. So he lost his soul when he held it back. He's Bogie but he was untrue to himself and so that is why he left her. He resents her. She resents him for what he did but deep down, he's the one who resents her because she made him be untrue to himself.
On the project as a whole:
THE FARRELLYS
There's great stuff here. When the kids pile into the front seat. When he makes Phoebe remember the kidnapping. There's a great movie here--you just haven't written it yet.
* * *
Scott Frank started his career in 1988 with a movie I never heard of, Plainclothes. In 1991 he had two more: Little Man Tate and Dead Again. He and Elmore Leonard turned out to be a pretty good match, witness Frank's adaptation of Get Shorty and last year's Out of Sight, for which he got an Oscar nomination and won a Writer's Guild of America Award. His next is to be Minority Report, with Steven Spielberg on board to direct.
Dear Bill
Subj: Thoughts on "The Big A" ...
Okay, these thoughts are maybe three seconds old, so take them with the
usual caveats. I should warn you, if I sound a bit fuckerish, it's only because I'm overworked, underinspired and in a foul mood. The perfect headspace for critiquing a screenplay. Just know I'm probably talking more to myself than to you.
Anyway, ahead of time, forgive me.
I like the idea and in terms of plot (structure), the story is fun and full of abundant twists and turns and surprises. In fact, every scene seems to go in the opposite direction you think it will. If you want to simply tell a fun story, then you've succeeded.
On top of that, as with everything you write, everyone speaks in a distinct voice and I particularly like the kids and the way you've made them precocious without being obnoxious.
But, for me, I need more character stuff. Character is (for me--and maybe this exercise isn't about me or what I would do so I should just fuck right off, but since you asked ...) everything.
To begin with, I think we need to spend more time with Echo and Climber before they split, only because I don't know these two at all. She was a sophomore in college, yeah, but WHAT DOES SHE WANT? To be a doctor? To be a painter? To be a hooker? To be the wife of a private detective? What does he want? You tell me how they got their nicknames, but you don't tell me much else about them. Why did she fall in love with him? I know why he fell in love with her. The same reason all men fall in love with women: she's beautiful. But what's the thing about Climber? Why does he still love her (more on this later)?
In terms of character, it seems to me that you give more to the reader of your script than to the viewer of the film. Long paragraphs at the beginning tell us, the reader, about these people. But how will the audience know how she got that nickname? How will the audience know that he's "a good man in a bad world ... as close as anyone's come to Bogart in TMF"?
And why did she leave him? The reason I get from the script is: Because he turned out to be exactly the guy he appeared to be. Maybe she thought that's what she wanted in a guy, but then couldn't live with it. I don't know, I don't want to make too big a deal out of it, but without knowing these people beyond types, I don't care much what happens to them.
About the kidnapping. I like the details. The Gardeners did it (and yes, you'd have to set them and the other household staff up, but that could be fun to see the kids interacting with them and I think the movie is under-peopled as it is). I like that Phoebe saw it, but hid, etc. etc.... I just don't know if I'm surprised enough when Shirley (can we get away in this day and age with naming a boy Shirley? Especially with a mother named Echo and a father named Climber? Just a question ...) gets snatched.
I do like the idea of a case they all have to work on together, but jeez, it seems like whenever a movie hits a wall, someone close to the good guy gets grabbed up. The wife of the cop. The daughter of the cop. The son of the cop. The cop comes home, there's a fucking note on the kitchen table ...
I'm not saying it couldn't work, but are we surprised enough by it? Does that even matter?
A few words about the kids. I love the way they talk. I love the IDEA of who they are, but I have questions, most stemming from the notion in the script that:
They pretend to hate their father to make their mother happy.
A) Why DOES their mother so dislike their father? And why does she want her kids to dislike him as well? B) Why would they ever go along quietly when their mother and the asshole Trip want to keep his visits supervised? Why wouldn't they, as articulate and intelligent as you've drawn them, tell their mother what's up? Especially if they love their father so much?
I think the reason you had trouble with that first scene is because it's probably the wrong scene. It's not a scene we want to see. Do we believe it? Look at question B above. Say we do. I still don't think we need to have the scene. In fact, if you look at your outline, you could cut it and the story wouldn't change at all. Everybody's miserable. We know that. Moving on ...
You talk about the sleight of hand used in setting up Phoebe's memory with the line from Jimmy. I think you need more than a line. After the robbery at the bodega, why can't we have a moment where she (the "blind girl") describes for the cops everything she saw. And, then, in her moment of glory, Echo and Trip show up, piss on everybody's high. Just a thought.
Okay--say Trip brought Echo along, who didn't want to believe it. Who still loves Climber, but can't be with him because ... (?) He did ... (?) I don't know, maybe he cheated on her because he refused to believe that a woman like that would ever really love a guy like him ... he knew that she was more amused with him than in love with him ... she didn't know what she had until now ... I don't know ... I'm looking for SOMETHING more than they just come from different places.
Echo Echo Echo. Why do we like her? What's she doing now besides being a rich bitch (showing her working at the foundation is too little too late, and perhaps, even more off-putting than having her do nothing. And again, you tell us--the reader--how good she is at her job, but we really never see her do anything).
Why in God's name is she with Trip?
We're supposed to want Echo and Climber to get together, but the only thing attractive about her is that she's attractive. Other than that, we know she's rich. She likes Bartok and Kabuki theater. She's dating a guy our hero once punched out. Right about now I'm thinking your fastball should have been, SHE gets kidnapped again, this time Climber and the kids go looking for her ... but aren't so sure they really want to find her ...
Okay, I know. I've come down with both feet. Why? Because I love the idea. I love the story. I don't love the characters. I'm not even sure they ARE characters--at least not in the sense that goes beyond types or attitudes. When I see a film, I want what the characters want. I want to see them get it, or not get it, in some terrific, dramatic way. I guess what I'm trying to say is this:
Character is what makes us give a shit. Don't you think?
Okay, I'm done.
(I have trouble WRITING these thoughts. It would be much better if we could talk. That is, if you still WANT to talk to me ...)
--Scott
Tony Gilroy's first flick was The Cutting Edge in 1993. More recently he has written Dolores Claiborne and The Devil's Advocate. I have known him for thirty years and we still speak to each other--a remark you will understand after you've finished his comments.
Bill,
Okay, I'll play.
I've tried to follow the rules here as I went along, but ideas for me come quick. It's organization that takes time. Opting for fertility over elegance, I'm gonna brain dump here, and then maybe we can talk about it later and clean it up.
We'll see if you bless me when I'm done.
Opening scene:
Climber--hate the name. Echo--ditto. All the cute stuff about them never makes it to the screen. I know this trick too well. Hype hype hype. Way too much.
Where are we? Is it the thirties? Is this a radio serial? Is this the frigging Shadow or something?
Answer--his apartment--ESPN. Shit, this is now. I like the TV in every room. My favorite thing so far. My only favorite thing.
Is he a cop? He's not a cop. Is he a cop? Why aren't you telling me this?
Okay, antisocial shlub hero goes to the mansion.
God, I really hate the name Climber. Is this gonna have some purpose?
So he's desperately in love with this unattainable rich girl. Dad's a jerk. (I'm bored, Bill.)
Six, seven pages of her saving him in the ocean. (Tough to shoot to make sense of this, I don't like the pace, I want other things to be happening and I'm in another action piece that's not really setting the world on fire ...)
And now the credits?
Okay--here's what I'm thinking. This is a movie about a team. He's got all the detective experience but his soul is dead. She's the daredevil rich chick with money to burn who's been trapped in this mansion since she was born. He's gonna break her out. She's gonna elevate his spirit, appetites, and cases. They'll travel the world. What a team they're going to make. Hell, who knows, maybe she staged the k
idnapping herself just to meet him. Better yet, maybe her father did ...
And now the credits?
Okay. Stop. Reset. I've just read through to the bodega shootout. I want to change gears. I want to call my little thing here:
Bill's Little Family Thriller
I want to talk about tone.
You mess with tone all the time. It's your right. Short of inventing an entirely new, undiscovered plot, maybe the next most heady discovery is an entirely new, unique tone. Butch Cassidy was that creation. A whole new stink on the western. A completely unique attitude to some very heavily trod territory.
This was big stuff. So you're the King of Tone.
Sometimes it's dazzling--Princess Bride.
Sometimes it's Year of the Comet.
For every Strangelove there are dozens of Batman IVs.
You know I love to mess with the rules. And I want to keep at it. It's all gonna keep evolving and I don't want to get bored or get caught short.
But tone? Tone scares me.
Why? Because when it goes wrong it just sucks out loud. I think the audience--the reader--I think they make some critical decisions in the opening movements of a film. How deeply do I invest myself here? How much fun can I have? Should I be consciously referencing the rest of my life during the next two hours, or is this an experience I need to surrender to? Are you asking for my heart or my head or both? Am I rooting for the hero or the movie? Just how many pounds of disbelief are you gonna ask me to suspend before this is through?
When it's done right, it makes no difference. They all work. They're all of value. They're all worth writing and seeing.
The audience just wants to know.
When you fuck with tone, you risk squandering that spark. You risk losing the one thing the audience brings with them.
The noir-comedy. The romantic-spoof. The gothic-farce. This is very tricky, alchemical stuff to play with. And what it seems to me you are trying to pull off here is a something we'd have to call ...
The family thriller.
Dangerous and cute.
Who the hell is this thing for, anyway? I mean, not to sound like the lowest MBA Hollywood scum here, but who's supposed to be watching this? If it's for kids, it's way too boring. If it's for adults, then where's the meat?
I start in the shitty apartment. The lonely TVs. The bag-a-doughnuts Toyota.
Why's he pulling up to a mansion?