Go

Did you originally write GO as an out-of-sequence story,
or was that something you and Doug Liman changed after the script was written?

–Chris

Although there’s hardly a trace of it left in the script, the deep underlying
story of GO originated from Alice in Wonderland. Even before I came to L.A.,
I’d been pondering ways to stage a modern Alice centered around a rave, with
a white Volkwagen Rabbit to get us into the action. (The White Rabbit would
ultimately become the Mazda Miata that Adam and Zack drive, and the Cheshire
Cat is still there, though now he speaks telepathically to Mannie.)

Fortunately, I never wrote that script, because it would have been horrible
– clever for the sake of being clever. But those Alice thoughts were still
rumbling in my head when in 1994 an aspiring director friend asked me to write
a script for him to direct as a short film. What I wrote was called "X," and
detailed a supermarket checkout clerk’s attempt to pull of a tiny ecstacy deal
at Christmas. My friend never got around to directing it, but other friends
would read the script and ask questions: who was Simon, and why was he going
to Vegas? What’s the deal with Adam and Zack? Are they cops or what?

I knew the answers, so two years later when I had the time, I wrote out the
full version as a feature. The first section, "Ronna," is the short
film script, almost verbatim. Rather than wedging all the new plot into the
first section, and ruining its tension, I started the movie over twice, each
time following a different set of characters. It became one story told in three
parts.

Inevitably and frustratingly, GO gets compared to PULP FICTION. While I think
they’re vastly different movies, the truth is, I don’t know if GO could have
been made without the success of Quentin Tarantino and Roger Avary’s film.
While there had been plenty of non-linear movies before it (RASHOMON, MYSTERY
TRAIN, NIGHT ON EARTH), none had the kind of popular acceptance PULP FICTION
did. By the same token, GO
wouldn’t have worked told "straight."

I was wondering,
do you read reviews of films you’ve worked on? When you’re in a bookstore,
do you go to the film section and check out how many stars Maltin or Ebert
have given the films?

–Brenton

Thanks to the Internet, not only can I read what Maltin and Ebert say about
my movies, I can find out what the Pioneer Press and the Times of London thought.
And yes, I read them obsessively when the movie comes out, to the point where
I’ll be at my computer from midnight until 2:30 a.m. reading the Friday morning
reviews online, before the papers are even printed.

In addition to the "Reviews" links on IMDB, I love Rotten Tomatoes
because it gathers the reviews from thirty or forty different sources. I also
read the "User Comments" section on IMDB,
and sometimes the various be-your-own critic sites.

Honestly, my fondness for reading reviews is more a function of pride than
vanity. I don’t get excited reading my own name, but rather seeing what someone
thought of my baby. And of course, my attachment varies based on my involvement.
For GO and CHARLIE’S ANGELS, I was a veritable soccer mom. TITAN A.E., on the
other hand, was like a friend from summer camp you were never sure you’d see
again.

If someone offered you a lot of money to do a sequel to GO,
would you do it? Do you think a screenwriter has to take big money projects
whenever they come
along, just to survive in the business?

–L.M. Dix

First off, no one is going to offer me a lot of money to write a sequel to
GO, because barring a bizarre change of circumstances, there will never be
a sequel. While the movie was moderately successful given its small budget,
it was never the kind of breakout hit that merits a roman numeral after the
title.

Which is kind of a shame, because I had a sequel plotted out in my head while
we were still in production on the first one. It involved the Fourth of July,
Mexican fireworks, head trauma and Muppets. For a brief time after our debut
at Sundance, I was convinced I would be writing it. But alas no.

As for your second question, no. A screenwriter doesn’t have to take big money
projects to survive, any more than an actor has to take multi-million dollar
roles. It’s all about the choices you make for your career and your quality
of life.

Screenwriters can work three ways. The first is when you write "on spec." That’s
when you sit down and write a script all on your own, without any guarantee
of being paid by anyone. While that doesn’t make for much economic stability,
you have complete artistic freedom, because you answer only to yourself. GO
was written on spec.

The second way a writer can work is "on assignment." That’s where
a producer or a studio pays you a certain amount of money to write a script,
generally based upon a property they own, be it another script, a novel or
a TV series. CHARLIE’S ANGELS was written on assignment.

The third way for a writer to work is "on weekly." Usually, this
only occurs when a movie is coming close to production, and the writer is hired
to make smaller changes. The writer is paid every week, rather than every draft,
and is working mostly as a craftsman, fixing problems rather than reshaping
the story. It’s analogous to being a highly paid temp. Everyone’s nice to you,
but they know you’re going away soon, and don’t become very attached. I worked
on weekly for MINORITY REPORT.

To make a broad generalization, prominent screenwriters can make more more
working on weekly than on assignment or on spec. That’s because if a movie
is close enough to production to merit a writer working week-by-week, the studio
is often willing to pay a higher rate.

But working on a weekly basis is exhausting and ultimately a little unfulfilling,
because you don’t have a strong relationship with any of the scripts you work
on. That’s why a writer will often turn down a project despite the paycheck
attached.