Creative Differences

The Writers Guild's current contract with the TV networks and movie studios expires at midnight on Halloween, a spooky moment of disharmonic convergence which has created an industry-wide anxiety that feels eerily like a sequel to Y2K. All interested parties are holding their collective breath, unsure exactly what will happen when the clock strikes twelve but bracing for what my aunt Doris would call a "disastrophe." (Hey, do you think I can sell a pitch of this "Y2K2" idea before the deadline hits?)

I've been watching these developments with a mixture of fascination and detachment. As one of the unfortunate legions of WGA members not currently employed, the prospect of going on strike from work I'm not doing suggests the proverbial tree falling in an ear-deprived forest. Then again, should a strike be called, it'll be nice for my unemployment to seem suddenly noble and principled instead of, well, pathetic.

I fully support the WGA's goals in these negotiations, especially their attempt to ensure that writers (and actors and directors) will share fairly in whatever revenue emerges from the still nebulous "new media", after decades of screwdom on VHS and DVD. And while I thought nothing in this business could surprise me any more, I was honestly stunned when the notion was floated by the studios to rethink the payment of residuals until a given project has made back its money. That loud cackling you've heard echoing off the Hollywood hills was the ghost of Art Buchwald, laughing from beyond the grave. In some dusty ledger, Gone With The Wind is probably still struggling to make its way out of the red. And I didn't hear any accompanying suggestion that the executives who greenlight, supervise and occasionally fuck up these projects would also be docked future pay in the event of unprofitability.

If any proposal was ever going to unite the creative community, this was it. If it was merely a negotiating ploy on the conglomerates' part, I can't comprehend what psychological game they thought they were trying to play by putting this issue on the table. It's as if a bully told you, "I'm going to rape your sister," then later said, "On second thought, I'm not going to rape your sister," and you're supposed to think, "Gee, what a great guy! He's not going to rape my sister!"

I've grappled at length with the absurdity of the literary-industrial complex in what seemed the only suitably illogical form: farce. I wrote a screenplay titled Creative Differences, in which a struggling female screenwriter, who feels her autobiographical labor-of-love was butchered by an obnoxiously-successful male screenwriter's rewrite, is given her chance to exact revenge by rewriting one of HIS scripts. Then an Oscar-winning diva and a studly actor, considered the sexiest (and dumbest) man alive, get their hands on the script, each trying to contort it to suit their own agendas. And once the word-impaired actor enlists the deposed male screenwriter to ghost-write his script notes and mash notes to the smitten female scribbler, closet doors are flung open, cell phones get slammed shut, and love doesn't conquer much of anything.

I like the script. It was even optioned. Directors and producers have flirted with it but, as I knew could happen before I put a single finger to my keyboard, it has been hampered by its very Hollywoodiness. Much like musicals and Westerns, projects about the entertainment business are deemed by conventional wisdom to be terminally uncommercial, with every failure viewed as proof and every success seen as a fluke. My condolences to anyone out there who's writing a musical Western about Hollywood. Make the lead characters women over 35 and your doom will be sealed!

Regular people don't give a hoot about showfolk, we are told, despite the existence of Extra and ET and EW and E! (and their latest bastard child, TMZ) or the check-out rags which inform us each week that Brangelina are splitsville, reunited, expecting, wasting away and secretly in love with George Clooney. My best friend from high school's mother-in-law in Milwaukee read my script and she "got" it.

Well, seeing how there soon won't be anything to read in Hollywood because nothing's being written, I offer the following scene for your time-killing enjoyment. Here Dick, the writer of many "lots of shit blows up" blockbusters, has his first meeting on Down Beat, the gritty cop drama which he impulsively sold to the highest bidder. Read this scene now because, once the strike ends, the situation depicted here will seem a relic from a distant age, as scriptwriters will finally be accorded the full respect they deserve.

No, really.

(In the spirit of Radiohead's recent album giveaway, if you'd care to read more, just drop a note here and we'll send you the whole script -- for FREE!!! What a deal.)

INT. STUDIO - EXECUTIVE'S OFFICE - DAY

JUSTIN, a baby-faced secretary, ushers Dick into a lavishly

furnished office. TRICKLING WATER is heard in the next room.

JUSTIN

Would you like something to drink?

DICK

I'm fine. What's on that billboard?

Dick points out the window at a billboard across the street.

It's covered with typewritten text in screenplay format.

JUSTIN

Some writer's posting his script,

one page a day. I'm sure he hopes

somebody will read it and buy it.

MALE VOICE (O.S.)

Like any of us has that long an

attention span.

A FLUSH, then SKIP GOULD enters, zipping his fly. He looks

more like a high-school sophomore on prom night than a powerful executive. Skip offers his hand. Dick hesitates before shaking it.

SKIP

Skip Gould. Damn glad to meet you.

DICK

Uh...hi. Dick Hackett. Will Arnie

Goldschmidt be joining us?

SKIP

Uhhh...Arnie has left the studio.

DICK

Since when?

SKIP

Since yesterday. He wants to spend

more time with his family.

DICK

He doesn't have a family.

SKIP

Maybe he wants to start one. So,

let's talk about this script. T?

DICK

No, I don't need anything to drink.

SKIP

Oh. No. T is my assistant.

Skip beckons to the outer office. A skeletal young female

executive named T enters. Justin leaves, closing the door.

SKIP

T, Dick Hackett. Dick Hackett, T.

DICK

Just T? Are you married to Mr. T?

T grins weakly. She's endured that one before. They all sit.

SKIP

The studio's been looking for a cop

movie, and this is a cop movie.

DICK

Well, that was my intention.

T

I loved your writing. The words

leaped off the page. Literally.

SKIP

It's so great to read a script that

can be shot without having to

change a word. We have some notes.

Dick grabs his legal pad. T hands Skip some stapled pages.

Dick tries to look at Skip's notes. Skip pulls them away.

SKIP

Uh-uh-uh. No peeking! Okay,

first, can we change the setting

from L.A. to, say, San Francisco?

L.A.'s been shot to death, and San

Francisco would give it a neo-noir

flavor, like "The Maltese Falcon".

T

Or "Chinatown".

DICK

But..."Chinatown" IS in L.A.

T

I meant the one in San Francisco.

Dick lets it slide. He jots down "SF" on his legal pad.

DICK

Sure, San Francisco could work.

SKIP

Great. Plus San Francisco will

give us more chance to play up all

of the homoerotic undercurrents.

Dick's pen stops in mid-note. He's baffled.

T

We loved how you suggested the

attraction between the two cops,

but we'd like to make it clearer.

DICK

It can't be made clearer, because

it isn't there.

SKIP

Well, we certainly saw it. That

scene with the two cops in the car

all night? What was that?

DICK

They're on a stakeout!

SKIP

"Make out", more like.

DICK

Why does any script where two men

are friends automatically have some

gay subtext? You must have male

friends who are just friends.

SKIP

I'm a studio executive. I don't

have friends.

DICK

T, don't you have any female

friends who are just friends?

T

Well, yeah. But then, I'm gay.

SKIP

If you're uncomfortable with the

gay angle, fine. The suits would

probably prefer to keep it vague.

So, who do you see in the leads?

DICK

James Woods and Harvey Keitel.

SKIP

Sure, we could make it with them.

Or we could just burn eighty

million bucks on the back lot. The

end result would be the same.

DICK

But they're perfect for the roles.

SKIP

Don't get me wrong. Jimmy and

Harve are wonderful actors.

T

They were amazing in "GoodFellas".

SKIP

But the two of them together

couldn't open a jar of pickles.

DICK

Okay, I grant you, they're not A-list.

Who were you thinking of?

SKIP AND T (UNISON)

Nick King.

Skip and T are very excited. Dick stares in astonishment.

SKIP

Is that a problem? We heard you

two got along great on "ATF".

DICK

Yeah, but...he's barely thirty.

T

Twenty-seven. Or so he says.

DICK

So how is he supposed to play a cop

on the verge of retirement?

SKIP

See, that's one of our problems.

The male lead has to be younger.

DICK

You can't just make him younger.

The script is ABOUT aging!

SKIP

People my age worry about aging.

DICK

Yeah, I'm sure you're petrified

you'll hafta start shaving someday.

(Immediately apologetic)

I'm sorry. But that's such a huge

change. I'll have to think about

it. Do you have any other notes?

SKIP

Well, there is...the title. "Down

Beat" is just so...downbeat. We'd

like something more upbeat.

T

Hey, how about "Upbeat"?

Skip reacts as if T has just split the atom. Dick is irate.

DICK

But the story isn't upbeat! And

"Down Beat" is a reference to the

fact that Dave plays jazz trumpet.

SKIP

We're thinking of losing the jazz.

Rocco would be more into hip-hop.

DICK

Rocco?

T

The streetwise cop.

DICK

The streetwise cop is Dave.

SKIP

We don't think Dave's a good name.

DICK

Well, I do! I spent two weeks just

deciding on the right names!

SKIP

Relax, Dick. What does it really

matter what the character is named?

DICK

If it doesn't matter, then let's

stick with the names I gave them!

SKIP

Look, why don't you meet with Nick

and hear his ideas on the script?

DICK

Nick King has already read it?

SKIP

Yup. He's dying to play the part.

DICK

Which part? Dave, the arthritic

old jazz musician, or Rocco,

the gay young hip-hopper?

Comments

[devilyousay]

The networks will start showing programming from cable, watered down of course. Expect NBC to start showing Sci Fi Channel material like Battlestar Galactica, probably the best written program on television. Ratings will go up, the strike will end, then ratings will go down.....it sucks.

[Beatitudes]

Hell, they could outsource to just about any nook and crany in America there's so many writers with manuscripts in their hands....
Here's one and boy this will make a great film or series, or man, whatever you want: New Orleans Noir...sweeeeet!
Out of New Orleans before the catastrophe that was made by a hurricane and, as Dante wrote, “of false gods who lied,” comes The Beatitudes, part one in the New Orleans Trilogy. The Beatitudes portrays New Orleans as Dante’s purgatory, a place where the sins of men are exposed for all to see, where redemption is close at hand but most often lost.

This world is revealed by the lives of two social workers, Hannah Dubois (white and nicknamed Scrimp) and Earlene Washington (African-American and nicknamed Pinch), who start their own business, Social Investigations, in order to solve the murders of ten foster children in New Orleans, Louisiana. The NOPD, the Catholic Church, and politicians have sidestepped clues that point to those who hold great power. As Hannah and Earlene find more and more evidence, they also know that they are dealing with a force that crosses into the realm of the spiritual. The murderers are part of a secret organization called the White Army (le Armee Blanc), centered in New Orleans, but rooted in Medieval Europe and the Children’s Crusades. Each clue leads to a beatitude and each chapter defines the novel: The Pure of Heart, The Persecuted, The Merciful, The Sorrowful, The Peacemakers, The Meek, The Poor in Spirit, and Those Who Hunger and Thirst for Justice. The Beatitudes is thus a study of good and evil, and that act, the murder of innocent children, which encompasses all of the

[frank1569]

Please, you think that's funny? Over two decades in "the biz" above and below the line, five script sales, numerous assignments, thousands of scripts analyzed for the top dogs, years and years of study, craft honing, practice, being nice to a-holes...

Still, no rep. Can't even get 'em to read me. The few who dared: "It would be hard to sell on the poster." "Your vast experience is a negative. Tell them you're a first time writer." "Too clever." "We only consider clients who already have representation." "You seem like you would be hard to control."

If only I had the talent to pen the next torturetaiment "movie" I'd be golden...

[NoOneSpecial]

When producers and other film execs play these kinds of games explaining, "There's no money in THAT kind of film." What I think they are really saying is: "You're screenplay will NEVER be a mega-blockbuster unless you change this, this, (ad infinitum), to cater to 14-24 year old males who want whack-off material and lots of things getting blown up."

It's really sad.

Of COURSE, there's a huge market for those films that don't fit the blockbuster formula. Just look at all the people craving entertainment that doesn't amount to a 85 minute amusement park ride!

What it means is that there's no creativity or desire on the financial and marketing side of Hollywood to promote these kinds of films to the people who will watch them.

[Zenobius]

If you have the book rights, make your idea for a screenplay about the agendas of people who get their hands on a screenplay into a book. It might sell.

As for the Writer's Guild strike; maybe the studios are planning on outsourcing writing to India? Possibly even all of movie making? Bollywood's conventions are a little different,but if Jab We Met and Kareena Kapoor are any indication, maybe Bollywood is better, faster, cheaper than Hollywood. Of course executive salaries are also lower than in Hollywood.

Sorry for the unsolicited advice:-).

[llozano]

Who says "reality shows" are not written. They are as real as a twinkie is a real food. On a related issue I wonder when actors are going to start speaking up on the proliferation of cartoon tv shows that are replacing live actors to do their jobs.

[shortgirl]

Welcome to my world. I wrote a screenplay about women 45-53. Shame on me. I also made them action heroes. Shame on me. It has been read by 3 production companies. All liked it. All passed. I asked if there was anything I needed to work on. No, they loved it. I asked if anything offended them. No, they loved it & thought was a very unique script & well written. There is just not any money for middle aged women ensembles. I hope some day that changes.

Good luck on your screenplay.

[JScott]

I remember some columnist quite awhile ago during another strike of some kind wrote something like 'well since there won't be enough material to fill up prime time, the networks should just do the following where there's nothing to show for that night-on one night it just had a sign on the screen that said 'READ' and the next night it said 'CONVERSE' and so on.

[wrabbitt]

the people should go on strike until we get a TV program that don't suck. besides commercials have ruined tv 3 min. of tv 5 mins. of commercials writers? well they may call themselves that.

[JoeBlough]

Let's hope all of the reality shows die a quick death!