John August

QandA

You know, like in that other movie

QandA, Words on the page

questionmarkIs this a smart shortcut or stupid laziness?

“We are thrust into the middle of a vast, vicious ground fight (think of the main battle scene in Braveheart, except with assault rifles and bayonets). On the right side is a sea of soldiers wearing red uniforms. The left side is a sea of soldiers in black uniforms.”

— Sung

Your example would fall in the “stupid laziness” category. Lazy in that it coasts on a cinematic reference without really expanding or commenting on it. Stupid in that it squanders an opportunity to show what’s exciting or unique about your battle scene as opposed to all that have come before it.

But I suspect you were really asking about whether it’s okay to drop a reference to another movie in your script — something to help the reader understand what you’re describing. ((Here’s the distinction: In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, there’s a very deliberate reference to 2001, with a Wonka bar replacing the black obelisk. That’s in the script, and in the movie. That’s not what we’re talking about here.)) And the answer is yes. Just be smart about it.

You’ll almost always want to marry a movie reference with a significant qualifier, something that greatly amplifies, defeats or transforms it. Some examples…

Carla’s date PHIL is like Shrek’s uglier cousin.

There’s something uncomfortably sexual in Josh and Stan’s rivalry. It’s like Top Gun without planes.

With razor-sharp teeth and leathery wings, the dremonae are a cross between prehistoric fish and Oz’s flying monkeys.

So while it’s okay to drop an occasional movie reference, you’re almost always better off doing it your own way. Let’s take your hypothetical example and see how it might be better constructed.

We are thrust into the middle of a vast, vicious ground fight

All good up to here. But rather than immediately reducing it to a movie reference, why not better establish the goals and geography?

We are thrust into the middle of a vast, vicious ground fight: the mighty Empirix Guard, backlit by the afternoon sun, and the scrappy Raiders, whose zeal somewhat compensates for their lesser firepower. From above, we can make out the serpentine battle line, neither side clearly winning.

That feels like Braveheart without explicitly calling it out. And by being more specific to your world, you don’t risk popping the reader out of the story to remember what that scene was like in Braveheart, and how promising Mel Gibson was before he started drunk-driving and crucifying people.

Changing horses mid-stream

QandA, Writing Process

questionmarkI am on page 75 of a screenplay that I am writing, and I was so excited about finally finishing a draft. Then today, I went to write and came up with a MUCH better first act — which would mean completely rewriting the first act and seriously reworking the second and third act. I pitched it to an exec I used to work for and he agrees that, while the old idea is viable, the new idea is much more organic and the characters are inherently more flawed, and thus, more likeable than the Kate Hudson-esque characters that preceded them.

If you were in this situation, would you proceed with the current draft, or immediately begin on the rewrite?

— Anna
Los Angeles

If your new first act embodies the movie you want to make, then grinding out the last 45 pages of the “old” movie will do you no favors. So write the new first act.

Yes, I generally caution that rewriting is the enemy of finishing — you can find yourself rewriting the first 20 pages a dozen times, and never complete the full script. And your new ideas will always seem more exciting than your old ideas, simply because they’re fresh and unimplemented.

But there’s nothing so dispiriting as finishing a script you know is fundamentally flawed. As a professional writer, you’re sometimes stuck in that situation, forced to implement notes that couldn’t conceivably work (c.f. Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle). But for your own scripts, you should never be printing out 120 pages of ambivalence.

Continuing this discussion of mixed emotions, what is “Kate Hudson-esque?” Is it a mathematical derivative of Goldie Hawn, approximating the slope of comedy without ever achieving intersection?

Because while I can sense the stereotype you’re wrestling with — pretty, manic, girl-next-door — there’s a fairly wide swath of actresses I’d put in that category: Jennifer Aniston, Mandy Moore, Katherine Heigl. Many actresses could play a “Kate Hudson-esque” role, more or less interchangeably. And that’s not good, particularly in a comedy. (I’m guessing you’re writing a comedy.)

So as you’re rewriting the first act, and introducing your characters, create situations and motivations that will keep the reader from ever thinking of Kate Hudson. If it helps, make the oddest mental casting choice you can and write the role that way. When your script sells, and Kate Hudson stars in it, she’ll have the opportunity to not be “Kate Hudson-esque.” And she’ll thank you profusely.

Mysteries of Pittsburgh

Adaptation, Sundance, The Nines

The LA Times has [a great article](http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-ca-thurber20jan20,1,1213177.story?ctrack=1&cset=true) about my friend and former assistant Rawson Thurber, whose adaptation of The Mysteries of Pittsburgh debuts at this year’s Sundance Film Festival. I’ve seen the movie five times, and am ridiculously proud of Mr. Thurber.

Trivia: If you’re watching The Nines, that’s Rawson’s house which gets burned down at the start of the movie. And if you’re watching The Nines on DVD (ahem), the short film God was shot at my apartment off of Melrose, which Rawson later took over.

I probably need to start paying my location scouts more.

On horseshit, and the New York Times

Strike, Words on the page

I’m quoted in an article in today’s New York Times about how the strike has affected relationships between writers and executives. More accurately, the blog is quoted; I didn’t speak to the writer.

In November, John August, the writer of movies like Charlie’s Angeles[sic] and Corpse Bride spied Peter Roth, president of Warner Brothers Television, at Osteria Mozza, a Los Angeles restaurant. “When you see someone you kind of know at a restaurant, it’s always a process to figure out whether or not to say hi,” Mr. August wrote on his blog. But the strike makes that decision process much more complicated.

Instead of confronting the studio executive, Mr. August returned home and wrote a vulgar blog entry about what he would have liked to say. One part of it that is printable here said: “Everyone knows the C.E.O.’s are talking out of two sides of their mouths.”

Really? What vulgar thing did I write about Peter Roth? I only remembered an insider reference to how Peter Roth tends to hug people. (He does.)

Let’s look back at the original post from November 15th, and my imagined conversation:

ME

Hey Peter. John August.

PETER ROTH

John. John August! How are you? This strike, huh? Crazy. I can’t wait for this to be over.

ME

Then tell your side to come back to the table with an internet residual plan that isn’t horseshit, and you could be shooting pilots by February. Because I’ve been on the picket line for seven days, and every writer wants to come back to work. But not a single one of them would take that shitty deal. Because everyone knows what’s at stake, and everyone knows the CEO’s are talking out of two sides of their mouths.

Obviously, the word in question is “horseshit.” I immediately did a web search of the New York Times website to find all the other instances in which they used “horseshit” in a quote, and found exactly zero results. They really don’t print the word. ((They will use “shit” on occasion, such as when the president was quoted as saying, “What they need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit, and it’s over.”))

Honestly, I find it charming that they deem certain common words too coarse for their readers. They also insist on using polite forms such as “Mr. Smith,” even when it creates more confusion. It’s their newspaper, and they’re entitled to their quirks. ((I’m also a fan of Technology Review‘s predilection for the diaeresis, such as coöperate.))

So it seems that the writer of the article was following Times policy in not printing the full, horseshit-inclusive quote. I can’t object to that.

But what I can object to is labeling my original statement vulgar. That’s a pretty condemnatory remark to slip into a light news piece, considering the word in question is barely PG-13. “Horseshit” may not be an approved word for the New York Times, but it’s a stretch to claim that the mythical New York Times reader would consider it vulgar. It’s basic cable at this point.

Worse, by omitting what I actually said, the article creates the implication I said something much worse. Something — gulp! — unprintably awful. Which I didn’t. I said that the AMPTP’s offer on the table was horseshit. Which it was.