John August

Film Industry

Women in film

Film Industry, Story and Plot

Screenwriters: Think back over the scripts you’ve written, and ask yourself three questions about each one:

1. Are there two or more female characters with names?
2. Do they talk to each other?
3. If they talk to each other, do they talk about something other than a man?

This is the Bechdel test, [first articulated](http://alisonbechdel.blogspot.com/2005/08/rule.html) by cartoonist Alison Bechdel and amended by others over the years. ((The origin of the test is complicated, and very Googleable.)) You’d think it would be a very low bar to climb over. You’d be surprised.

Let’s be clear: many, many great movies don’t pass this test, and many terrible movies do. It’s not even a particularly good gauge for determining a film’s feminist content; Transformers 2 meets the requirement because Megan Fox receives a compliment on her hair.

So if this rule doesn’t necessarily speak to quality or content, what’s the point? My friend Beth, who took all the women’s studies classes I never did and therefore yawns at the mention of this old axiom, would argue it’s meaningless checkbox-marking.

But for screenwriters, I think it’s still fascinating. After all, we’re the ones who ultimately put characters in scenes together.

Looking back through my movies, I’m struck by how rarely the female characters actually do talk to each other. In Big Fish, it’s only a brief moment with Sandra and Josephine. In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, it’s a throwaway moment between Violet and Veruca. Titan A.E. fails the test unless you know that the alien Stith is technically female.

In each of these cases, I had to spend a few minutes just to come up with these (admittedly slight) examples.

Also, I find it fascinating that the Reverse Bechdel Test is almost meaningless. Pretty much every movie made includes two named male characters talking about something other than a woman.

Does acknowledging the situation change anything? Maybe. I’ll certainly ask myself these questions about future scripts. For now, my upcoming projects all seem to pass, but they have a familiar paradigm: a single main female who mostly interacts with the men in the story.

Do you tip studio valets?

Film Industry, Los Angeles, QandA

questionmarkI don’t know what to do with the valet guys at studios when I go in for meetings. Do I tip them? How much?

— Van

I follow the keys rule: If at any point they are touching my car keys, I tip them a buck or two at the end. But I never know whether they expect it.

When you’re valet parking at a restaurant or an office building, you tip. You’re paying for parking, so it seems natural to tip the guy who brings your car back. It’s a pretty thankless job, so a small monetary acknowledgement of their efforts feels right.

But it’s more ambiguous when you’re on a studio lot. You’re not paying to park there. Generally, the only reason studio lots have valets is because they’re trying to fit more cars than the parking lot can really accommodate.

Yes, they’re providing a service, but so is the executive’s assistant who is bringing me water, and it would be weird to tip her.

I guess I tip studio valets because it’s the same job no matter where they’re doing it. The guy parking cars on a studio lot is functionally the same guy doing it for a restaurant. I would hope he’s getting paid better, but I don’t know. So I tip him.

To my recollection, Sony used to have a sign saying tips were not accepted — but then the sign went away. And at times, even fancy screenwriters get banished to the dungeon of self-parking across the street at the plaza, so I’m feeling flush and happy any time I can drive through the Madison gate.

At Warners, I follow the keys rule. The valets at the executive building will often point you to a spot rather than take your car, particularly later in the afternoon.

Dreamworks has a tiny parking lot, but the guys in charge feel like security rather than valets, so it would be odd to tip them.

As far as agencies, I tip at UTA. If I can help it, I never park at CAA. It’s the most expensive garage in Los Angeles. When parking costs more than lunch, something’s wrong.

Writing for 3-D

Film Industry

As more of our big summer movies go 3-D, Steve Zeitchik wonders [how it affects screenwriting](http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-ca-3ddirector-20100425,0,2986021.story):

> But even as Hollywood goes z-axis crazy, many directors and writers are questioning the stampede. While they express a general enthusiasm for the form, they say executives don’t always grasp all the complexities of adding that extra dimension. As the 3-D storm continues to gather, they point out that 3-D will affect much more than whether a filmgoer picks up a pair of glasses: It will change what films get made, and even the very nature of cinematic storytelling.

I think that’s overstating it.

In the short term, yes, the rush towards 3-D may affect the kinds of movies that get greenlit. But the underlying “nature of cinematic storytelling” doesn’t tend to change much even in the face of tremendous technical innovations. Color and widescreen were both huge changes, but their impact on story and screenwriters were very minor. (Sync sound was obviously a Very Big Deal, since it allowed characters to speak.)

I’m currently writing a film which is designed to be black-and-white and 3-D. Reading the script, you’d never know it. A few times, I’ve had to remind myself not to describe things as red. But beyond a joke at the outset, I never needed to acknowledge the 3-D — just as I never mention the dolly or color-timing in scene description.

For screenwriters, 3-D is something that may come up in a pitch, but will have very little impact on the written word.

On Golden Handcuffs

Film Industry, Psych 101, Random Advice

questionmarkI was young, innocent and seduced by a mouse. I spent 29 years working for The Company and even after I was laid off continued to work freelance doing the same work for seven more. Held back by golden handcuffs, I fear I’ve wasted decades to pursue greater things.

Is it too late to break in? Should I stop writing scripts and just take a job behind the counter at Starbucks to sell coffee? Should I never have considered starting to write in the first place, since clearly I wasn’t driven enough at an early age?

Hold old is too old to hold on to a dream? Not just screenwriting, but any dream.

— Paul
Santa Ana

random advice“Golden Handcuffs” is a term I heard a few times while visiting Pixar: a job that’s so good that you’d be crazy to leave it.

In the case of Pixar, well, Pixar is awesome. Get a job there, and you’re making amazing movies with some of the brightest people you’re going to meet anywhere. But you’re ultimately making Pixar’s movies, not your movies.

The same could be said for companies in every field. Take an anonymous survey of executive vice presidents from Fortune 500 corporations, and I bet you’ll find a lot of MBAs who feel like failures for not starting their own ventures.

Life is choices. In this case, which do you put first: your comfort or your ambition?

From what you describe, Paul, you chose comfort. ((Inaction is a choice, too, though it often doesn’t feel like it. You didn’t ask yourself every morning, “Should I quit my job today?” But it’s a good question to ask.)) And that’s okay.

I strongly doubt you wasted decades: you had an entire life outside of work that was possible in no small part due to having a steady paycheck. Most of America would gladly trade places with you. On Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, you’re aiming for self-actualization. That’s good, but recognize that it’s a comparative luxury.

Right now, you’re playing the What If? game, and you’re playing it wrong.

You are never going to be able to go back and make different choices. As Daniel Faraday would remind you, whatever happened, happened. So stop fantasizing about scenarios in which the past 29 years might have turned out more artistically satisfying. More importantly, stop beating up the younger version of yourself. He wasn’t lazy or naive. He was you.

Here are your new rules for the What If? game:

* **Only ask What If? questions about the future.** What If you now devoted yourself full-time to writing? Or, What If you stopped carrying this torch for screenwriting, and pursued something else you enjoyed? Which would make you happier?
* **Only think about the person you are today.** A 20-year old has different options and challenges than a 49-year old. How much of your current life would you be willing to up-end?
* **Recognize assumptions.** Don’t assume you know where a path would take you. Rather, ask whether traveling that path would be interesting and fulfilling. ((Yes, this is essentially the chorus to the Miley Cyrus hit, “The Climb.”))

Golden handcuffs don’t really go away, incidentally.

I write movies for other directors because it’s safe and lucrative. And fulfilling, mostly. I want to get movies made, and I can write many more movies than I could ever direct.

But every time I take a job writing someone else’s movie, it pushes back my own next movie another few months. At some point soon, I’ll need to quit my day job to pursue my own ambitions, with all the risks that entails.