Rewriting bad movies
I was perusing your site, and it occurred to me that you might be a good
person to ask a question I’ve been struggling with.
I’ve been a working screenwriter for about five years. I’ve never had anything produced, but some things are looking promising. I’ve worked at most of the major studios, and my career thus far has been steadily getting better. No spectacular ups and downs.
Over the years, I’ve pitched on quite a few rewrites, passed on a few, and done a few. Most rewrite opportunities that come my way are pretty bad. A lot of times, people are looking to breathe new life into their stalled projects. When you read them, it’s clear those projects have stalled for a reason.
Here’s my question. I mostly get rewrite opportunities on scripts that are based on mediocre ideas that are also badly executed. I’m generally interested in making money, but I’m not desperate. I don’t HAVE to do everything that comes my way. Often I get scripts that I know can make much, much better.
Here’s the catch: they’re based on mediocre ideas. It’s never going to be GREAT. If I bust ass and do what the producers want, it might be solid, professional, entertaining and generally well-written, but it’ll still be kind of derivative and unoriginal. In this (very common) case, should I:
Take the job and just make it the best it can be, without making fundamental changes to the idea. I’ve done this. The problem, it seems, is that people are really happy with you initially because you’ve fixed the problems. But, when they go out to get it made, the fact that the idea was never that great becomes a problem. And inevitably, their enthusiasm for you as a writer cools. Since you were the last writer on the project, it becomes kind of your fault that the project is stalled again. Is that okay? Does it matter?
Take the job and try to re-work the premise, making fundamental changes to try to make the project actually good. I tried this, as well. I’m proud of the work I did, and everyone I gave it to who had nothing to do with the project thought it was a HUGE improvement. But it was a horrible move politically, since I was changing ideas that had originated with the producers. I had been careful to make it clear what I was doing, but they weren’t listening - they just wanted it rewritten. Then I turned it in, and was burned alive.
Pass on rewrites that aren’t based on good ideas. I’ve certainly done this, but I worry that it just takes you out of the rewrite pool. My agents aren’t going to endlessly send me rewrite gigs if I pass all the time. Rewrites are a big part of the business.
I know this is a long-winded question, but it’s a thorny dilemma. Oh, by the way, I’d appreciate it if you could make me anonymous if you post this. God forbid someone should find out I think they have a mediocre idea for a movie.
– Matt
Los Angeles
Obviously, many readers would kill to be in Matt’s position: a working screenwriter with the luxury to turn down jobs. But I think his question is helpful because it points out the tough choices you end up making as a screenwriter.
Deep down, a screenwriter wants many things: money, artistic satisfaction, the respect of his peers. But if you were to really ask…
STUDIO EXEC: What kinds of movies do you want to write?
SCREENWRITER: Movies that get made.
Unlike the novelist, whose work is finished the minute she hits “Print…”, the screenwriter is beholden to countless external forces who will determine whether or not his screenplay becomes a film. Matt’s been working five years, and hasn’t had a movie made. Still, he has a career, because the people who hire screenwriters recognize his talent.
What should Matt do when rewrites come knocking? I think all three of his options have their merits, given the right circumstances. Here’s what I’d do:
Pass on fundamentally bad ideas.
Note the difference between “bad idea” and “not based on a good idea.” Lots of good movies are based on ideas that, on their surface, don’t seem especially promising. Keep those in the mix. You’re just trying to weed out the concepts that, even if perfectly executed, would be lackluster. (”He’s a clown who solves grizzly murders!”)
Pass on perma-development projects.
Watch out for the project that one mid-level studio executive is championing, particularly if he says something to the effect of: “I think if we could just crack this one thing, then the Studio Bosses will get it.” Nope. That project is going to be sitting on the development list for years. You have plenty of unmade projects. You need a produced movie.
If you’re planning major changes, say so before you take the job.
And if they’re squeamish about what you’re planning to do, walk away. You may still piss off certain personalities involved with the project, but at least they were warned.
Accept that sometimes, you’re shining shit.
Or to put it more optimistically, you’re making a bad movie better. Think of yourself as an interior designer. True, new paint and curtains won’t fix the hole in the living room ceiling, but they might make you notice it less.
In the end, remember that you’re a screenwriter, not a screen-rewriter. You don’t want to make a career of it. But sometimes, rewriting a bad movie can be liberating, because you know that almost anything you do will improve it.
Articles
March 11th, 2005 at 8:52 am
I don’t know if you could say that a grizzly actually “murders” anyone. We normally don’t ascribe that kind of criminality to animal attacks, do we?
(Now, if we’re talking about trained bears, and the clown is in the same circus with the grizzlies…)
March 11th, 2005 at 11:43 am
Nathan:
I think he means grizzly as in “gruesome”, “ugly”, “inspiring repugnance”, “shocking”. No animals were harmed….
March 11th, 2005 at 1:23 pm
I’ve just noticed Nathan’s confusion. That made me laugh so hard.
And Matt, buddy… Me, among others, would love to be in your position. Though I understand your predicament.
March 11th, 2005 at 1:33 pm
Great discussion. I deal with this in various forms every day. My problem is, I hate putting my name on anything I know is crap (Not that I’m incapable of doing so unwittingly…seems I’ll be deleting my crime-solving mime piece when I get home. John. )
Unfortunately, my aversion to crap limits my opportunities in Hollywood. I know I’m not telling secrets when I say that much of the business is based on bottom line rather than quality of product. Then again, so are many businesses. It’s more about the shiny packaging and not its contents.
Too bad there aren’t credits like “Dialogue Polish by” to give writers a cozy, little Pontious Pilate robe to wear while cashing the check. Here’s to the Alan Smithys of the world.
March 11th, 2005 at 7:10 pm
Doug wrote: “I know I’m not telling secrets when I say that much of the business is based on bottom line rather than quality of product. Then again, so are many businesses,” and “I hate putting my name on anything I know is crap.”
So true. While working for an architecture firm, one filled with terrific talent (please note, I’m not referring to myself), so often the projects I worked on were crappy and uninteresting. But, they were important for the firm’s bottom line. The two primary flavors were crappy projects that I couldn’t possibly care about (office buildings with first floor retail: yawn), or, once nice designs that had been “value-engineered” to death.
I can see the dilemma of the original post. Continue to take the re-writes or not?
My question: Is it possible to do the work and not have one’s name associated? Or is that an insult to the producers that that would lead to career suicide?
March 11th, 2005 at 7:32 pm
John- Thanks for the thoughtful response!
Mired-In my experience, it’s certainly possible to do the work and not have your name associated with it, at least in terms of credit. In fact, it’s likely.
But within the industry, you’re dealing with a small circle of players. Your name may not ultimately be on anything, but people know what projects you’ve worked on. If things go badly, at the very least you are compromised at the studio where you did the work. Your agents know you did the work, too.
I’ve been fortunate in that the only time I had a really bad situation on a rewrite, I was simultaneously doing another rewrite at the same studio, which was a pretty good situation. So it kind of balanced out. But it was scary.
To extend your architecture analogy… it would be closer to a situation where you’ve been invited to work on a building that is in danger of falling down. Or being paid to do some work on a spec building project that you suspect won’t sell. It’s not your building. You didn’t get to make the decisions that have led to the problems. But you’re responsible for fixing them. And often you aren’t allowed to say “start over, it’s structurally unsound.” So do you do the work, despite the creeping dread that you’ll be blamed if the building falls down?
March 12th, 2005 at 12:58 pm
This would also help Matt clinch his way up from his screen-rewriter status.
Sure “people who hire screenwriters recognize his talent” but they’re very likely to believe, implicitly, he’s just a good “word man.”
For those studio execs who tend to despise screenwriters that’s just what they are, for they think the hard work is to come up with a high-concept movie idea, attach valuable elements, get it wrapped up as smoothly as planned and then market it like it’s “the best movie since [enter big blockbuster title whose marketing strategy is being duplicated].”
March 15th, 2005 at 7:19 am
I’m late to the party here but this is a great topic but I wanted to toss in a slightly different perspective. For the record, I’ve been supporting myself and my family as a writer for about twenty years (ten in television, ten in movies.) Sometimes I have the luxury of turning down gigs, but with two kids in private school, I usually take the meeting. I don’t care if it’s Cat Woman, The Musical.
A few weeks ago, a producer at a major studio sent me funny but structureless screenplay that was in desperate need of a rewrite. As usual, I searched my soul for an emotional hook I could live with and went in to pitch my fixes. During the Q & A after my pitch, one of the six producers in the room suggested “fixes� to my story that included all of the stuff one of the other producers told me was wrong with the draft they had sent me. I had walked into a field of egg shells. The draft I had read was not the rantings of a crazed writer but a script dictated by a producer without a clue. The second producer (who was brought on to save the project) had a much better sense of story but deferred to the first producer’s seniority. I scheduled another meeting to pitch the “fixes� knowing that whatever I did next was bound to piss off somebody. I decided to punt. I pitched the hell out of the best angle I could think of and left with a bounce in my stride. I felt confident that I had pitched the absolute best possible version of their idea. They passed.
Two days later I got a call from the second producer. He liked the quixotic zeal that I put into polishing that particular turd and called to give me a better project away from the other producers. I just got back from that meeting. It was great. And they lived happily ever after. In this case, the road less traveled was covered with mines, but I got points for taking the walk.
Just a different perspective. Take it for what it’s worth.
March 15th, 2005 at 10:14 am
Rob makes a good point about rewrites: A lot of times, you’re not just dealing with the words on the pages, but the emotions and politics that got the script to where it is. I’m still learning to tread cautiously when coming into an existing project.
March 22nd, 2005 at 12:22 am
I’d like to know the backstory on “Ring Two.” Was it lost in translation with a Japanese director? Studio Exec meddling? or just a case of a bad script happening to a good writer? Ehren Krueger isn’t Paddy Chayefsky, but he’s a much more competent screenwriter than what showed up on the screen.
March 22nd, 2005 at 10:15 am
Amen to that, Gary. I don’t know what happened with Ring Two, but I’ll ask around. I’ve always said that a sequel can’t make an original movie worse, but this one sort of did. The whole watch-the-videotape/get-a-phone-call gimick from the first American version seems wholly disconnected from the backstory they reveal in this one.
March 28th, 2005 at 12:20 pm
Dear Matt,
When in difficult situations, such as yours, I often find the best way to deal is to ask, “What would Gary Oldman circa 1994’s ‘The Professional’ do?”
I took the liberty of posing your problem to him, and Gary Oldman says to pass on all crap rewrites.
“All of them?” you ask.
“ALL OF THEM!” Gary Oldman screams in your face, the spittle flying fast and freely.
You see, Matt, your good name is all you have in this business, and as such, you should only take rewrites for scripts that already have great ideas and unforgettable characters built in. Scripts that elevate, never denigrate, your brilliant writing skills, Matt. Oh, no, never denigrate. As such, you should be passing on 90% of the work offered you.
But wait, why are you backing away from Gary Oldman, and why the worried brow? Gary Oldman is just trying to help, Matt. Gary Oldman is… Hold on, he got a pill stuck in his throat. OK, better now… Gary Oldman is your friend, and he insists–INSISTS–you take only the great scripts. Don’t mind the twitch in Gary Oldman’s eye, Matt, it just means the “medicine” is kicking in.
Furthermore, Gary Oldman says to give all those crap rewrites to me. I will take the bullet for you, Matt, because like Gary Oldman, I am your friend as well.
I know, Matt, I don’t fully grasp his ways either, but there you go. Gary Oldman stares at me through the eyes of Sid Vicious, Lee Harvey Oswald, and psychotic police detective Stansfield. I don’t question him, and neither should you.
Matt, so that me may all sleep soundly tonight, please do as Gary Oldman says.
March 28th, 2005 at 2:40 pm
Um, Tom…how do you manage to type with the strait-jacket on?
March 29th, 2005 at 11:25 am
You’re on the list, Gary…
April 4th, 2005 at 11:56 am
Tom-
I appreciate Gary Oldman’s advice and friendship, as I clean the spittle from my glasses.
However, the one part of his/your advice that I’d take issue with is the “give all the crappy rewrites to you” part. Not because I’m not willing to. I am. But because I think you underestimate the amount of mind-bending toil it takes to get one of these crappy jobs.
If you think you can pull it off, I’m happy to let you and Gary know next time something comes up.
April 4th, 2005 at 3:12 pm
Matt,
Gary Oldman and I are both well versed with mindbending toil and crappy jobs, I having worked for McDonald’s and Gary having starred in “The Scarlet Letter.”
As a starvling (struggling + starving) screenwriter, I would be honored to take your sloppy seconds. You may contact either me or Gary Oldman at oakclimber @ yahoo.com.
Huzzah and good fortune to you, sir!