Got a little sinking sensation in my stomach when I saw the L.A. Times' West magazine cover this Sunday, on account of: Do we need this? Yet another neon swatch of the kind of hyperbole that turns your average writer to drink?
Charlie Kaufman isn't just the the best writer in Hollywood. He may be the best writer of his generation. Period.
That's the entirety of the front cover -- inch-high bold black print on a stop-the-presses red background. And it makes me immediately conflicted. Because I love Charlie Kaufman, maybe as much as I hate the media's propensity to turn my lifetime love and livelihood into the kind of dumb losers-and-winners game that oughta have been left in the school yard. 'Cause, c'mon, one man's best is another's I don't think so and when someone can label say, Danielle Steel a "genius," the word becomes dross and why does there always have to be a number one, anyway? Etc.
On the other hand, the article is by David Ulin, a writer I respect, he did at least have the presence of mind to use "may be" (...may be the best writer...), and hell, he could actually be right.
But I'm just sayin'.
Meanwhile, the article's hyperbolic claims turn out to be mostly the attention-grabbing hook for a provocative exploration of writing and our culture, and at the core of it lies the welcome articulation of a key, I think, to what screenwriting is really about --that is, when you're doing it right. And this may sound like a duh! but it's really true:
It's about the passion.
This weekend I hosted a panel for the Writers' Program at UCLA Extension's Arts Day L.A. that was called "The Most Popular Job in L.A.: Writing Your First Screenplay." It was me and four other screenwriters discussing, among other topics, "what constitutes a great story idea." In truth, we didn't get to any other topics, because I was dog-with-bone on this great story idea thing, as I pursue same on a daily basis in my job as a reader, and had just this past week blogged about trying to define that ineffable, magical thing.
With Chrys Balis (Asylum), Deborah Dean Davis (Daddy Boot Camp, Star Trek Next Generation on TV), Keith Giglio (producer of A Cinderella Story, writer for Bruce Willis, Adam Sandler) and Steve Mazur (Liar, Liar) on board, I was genuinely curious to see how specifically we could break down what a great story idea for a movie is. And the discussion took an interesting turn that I hadn't foreseen.
Keith's definition of What the Studios are Looking For was a fine phrase; he said, "they want to see something that's uniquely familiar" (this jibes with my belly-of-the-beast perception; I call it the Same But Different concept). Deborah told of a producer who wanted movies that were "happy meals" (funny, scary, all too industry-typical). Steve identified scripts with story ideas you could "get" by seeing the poster as one crucial way to sell a movie, and scripts having a great part for an actor as an another.
This led us into an exploration of what made a great part. Chrys, via an impressively compressed presentation of Joseph Campbell's hero myth, argued that stories utilizing its universal conflicts (an underdog pitted against vast forces, a fish out of water, etc.) most easily struck a chord with audiences. I seized on this universal thing -- what speaks to everyone? -- and before long, you had all the writers at the podium in agreement on one basic principle.
Universality comes from personal experience. You have to bring yourself into the creative process. What moves you? The movies that move people most are the ones tapping into universal themes, but those themes don't arise from the ether -- they come from a writer having strong feelings about something, trying to understand it, and then expressing what he or she's discovered, from that writer's uniquely personal point of view.
Callie Khouri famously got the idea for Thelma & Louise driving home from a long night's work as a p.a. on a video shoot. Sitting in her truck she jotted the phrase "two women on a crime spree" on a piece of scrap paper. What happened next is that this germ of an idea wouldn't let go of her. It raised questions. What two women? Why women? Why would they go on a crime spree, and what would be different about it with them being women as opposed to men?
And, as Keith-who-knows-Callie pointed out in our panel, the story that emerged became a vehicle for her to write about what she did know: Texas, marriage, her POV on love, freedom -- she was writing about the values she believed in, the issues that were most important to her.
The idea of writing about what you care about the most, writing from passion, turned out to be my UCLA choir's song for the day. Apparently "commercial" and "personal" are far from antithetical. What all of us writers ended up, um, passionately arguing for, was passion (read: personal, this-is-my-life investment) as the key to writing great movies.
Mazur noted that the first spec he ever wrote, with a partner, was a labor-of-love baseball story that never sold. But the writing team's love for the sport and the characters they'd thought up to play it was so palpable on the page that it earned them other work, and eventual success. People responded to the depth and intensity of the writers' feelings.
Which brings me back to the so-called Maybe Best Writer of His Generation. I wasn't entirely surprised, and in fact, deeply gratified, to see that this same idea is a throughline in Ulin's analysis of Charlie Kaufman's work.
As the character "Charlie Kaufman" expresses it in Adaptation, "Writing is a journey into the unknown." Ought to be, yes, and when it is, inspiration feeds on this creative exploration, from a writer being passionately involved with a given subject, with the adventure of finding stuff out. This is what the real Susan Orleans says, in Ulin's article: "Passion itself is a unifying factor. For me, writing [The Orchid Thief] was a way to discover my own sense of passionate engagement, to learn why I do what I do."
What makes Kaufman's movies great, Ulin posits, is his...
open-ended, process-oriented approach to writing, in which one poses questions as opposed to answers, which is, unfortunately, something too few movies do.
What do you want to find out, in writing this? That's the question I always pose to consult clients, students, fellow writers. Why am I here? How did I get here? are among the central questions, Ulin notes, that Charlie Kaufman chases after in his movies, and you can't get much more primal-universal than that. His movies are a thoroughly personal, often agonizingly introspective pursuit of the kinds of questions that can keep any man or woman up at night.
The article is bracingly bold in its case for Kaufman as a hero for our times, and acute in its canny analysis of why his work matters and how its effects are achieved. (I was happy, for one thing, to see my own experience of Adaptation echoed in print: the first time you see it, you think the third act sucks; the second time you realize it's brilliant, and perfectly set up by everything in the first act; like any great work of art, the thing gets better and more intriguing the more you get into it.)
Ulin also nails down the peculiarly contemporary sensibility embodied in Kaufman's films:
This is a subjective era, when every story is fluid, every truth—political, personal, cultural, historical—is up for grabs. We're no longer certain even of the line between fact and fiction, actual and imaginary. For Kaufman, this is a defining issue. From John Malkovich to Susan Orlean to (yes) Charlie Kaufman, his films are full of real people in unreal situations, which raises fundamental questions about the nature of reality itself. Is it a lie to create a fictional twin and give him half a screenplay credit, as he did with Donald Kaufman, who is listed as co-author—and, indeed, was co-nominated for an Oscar—for his work on "Adaptation"?
I can't help adding (as Periphery Man must) that I got a phonecall from a friend in NYC the night before Kaufman won his Oscar, asking me if Donald Kaufman really existed... because, you see, I know Charlie Kaufman.
But even to say that is to become, in my Zelig-like fashion, Kaufman-esque. I've hung out with Charlie on at least half a dozen occasions -- he and his wife are friendly with a couple near and dear to me -- but to say I "know" him with any great conviction would be to kid myself. He's famously difficult to get to know, a wary, guarded kind of fellow, and despite a number of conversations with the guy, he remains as mysterious to me as ever.
But I think I do know where he's coming from. It's not from trying to follow industry trends, or from how do I get an agent and sell my script for a million dollars? It's not from "what page is my first act turning point supposed to be on?" or from trying to second-guess What They're Looking For. He comes from, you know, a personal place.
Where the passion lives.
Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot. (D.H. Lawrence)
I'm just jealous that you got to spend the weekend with Steve Mazur!
Posted by: Audrey | May 15, 2006 at 08:19 AM
Mernit - Great post. How do have time to write all this stuff?! I'm still digesting David's article -
Posted by: Babs | May 15, 2006 at 09:31 AM
What's Kaufman working on now, does the article say? Does he largely just write spec stuff, or is he taking on assignments?
Posted by: Scott the Reader | May 15, 2006 at 10:57 AM
Allow me to be completely off topic and ask how you like that new Placebo album? I've abandoned them as of the past couple years and am feeling slightly guilty. Is it better than Sleeping With Ghosts?
Posted by: Jenna | May 15, 2006 at 11:35 AM
Audrey: Well, D.H. would know, wouldn't he?
Babs: Insomnia.
Scott, the article alludes to some hush-hush "new project" that's clearly a spec; to my knowledge, he doesn't do on-assignment stuff anymore.
Welcome, Jenna: Better than Sleeping, I think, which I never really listened to either, but Without You I'm Nothing still rules (for "Pure Morning" alone, if nothing else).
Posted by: mernitman | May 15, 2006 at 12:41 PM
I saw Jody Foster speak at U of Pennsylvania's commencement today and she echoed the same ideas. (I'm paraphrasing) That when she started to tell stories it helped her sort out and discover who she was. Several times I've been tempted to write stories based on commercial appeal. However, in the process of developing them, I inevitably steer them in a different direction that I want to explore. That direction usually tends not to be obviously commercial, but it does makes me a lot happier.
On a side note, I'm currently working on a very unorthodox rom-com, and I'm in the middle of reading, and thoroughly enjoying, "Writing the Romantic Comedy."
Posted by: Craig | May 15, 2006 at 05:14 PM
Billy,
Couldn't agree more, Charile Kaufman is a great, great story teller. "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" is brillant,and very cleaver. People who think all rom/com's are predictable need to pop a couple of Charlie's films into their DVD or VCR.
In an age where there is a tendancy for movies to copycat the beats of past sucesses Charlie Kaufman is welcome breath of fresh air -- I can't wait to see what he's up to next!
Thanks for sharing a little of what you know about the man behind the mask. I always appreciate knowing a little more about the stud screenwriters in Hollywood.
- E.C. Henry from Bonney Lake, WA
Posted by: E.C.Henry | May 15, 2006 at 05:15 PM
Where the passion lives. Great line.
Posted by: MaryAn | May 15, 2006 at 06:38 PM
Anybody got a link to the article?
And what if you don't like the third act of Adaptation so much you never go back? Wouldn't an act that you LIKE the first time thru then realize the brilliance of in your countless other beloved viewings and fawnings over have been even better?
Clever = self-referential? And a speech by your main character admitting self-indulgence transforms self-indulgence to Oscar -winning genius?
Could any of US get away with that?
Ok, maybe a LITTLE jealous. I DO love Eternal Sunshine and like Malkovich...
chris
Posted by: Chris Soth | May 15, 2006 at 06:49 PM
Chris, here is the link:
http://www.latimes.com/features/magazine/west/la-tm-kaufman20may14,1,4924686.story?coll=la-headlines-west
Billy, so glad you covered this. I read it online on Sunday (looking for West's short fiction piece) and thought - "Wow, I'd like to write about that but can't do it justice." You did it justice.
Charlie Kaufman is one of my writing heroes. I had the sublime experience of reading an early draft of Adaptation before the movie was on the public radar. A friend sent me a messy, large file that consisted of individual scanned images of the screenplay. I read it, and was completely taken away. Years earlier, when I was in graduate school and didn't have a TV, I had read the original Susan Orleans article from the New Yorker (that was turned into a book) and knew what he was dealing with.
On the page, the 3rd act worked for me the first time through. However, many friends who saw it first in the theater noted they thought the 3rd act was weak. (Until they saw it again.)
And then Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - I think it might be even BETTER than Adaptation. It inspired Jim Carrey to one of his best roles ever.
I call his movies "existential comedies" because they ask "Why am I here? How did I get here?" sorts of question. He's like the Talking Heads of screenwriting.
Seriously, the only other film that I think fits into the category is I Heart Huckabees by David O. Russell. IMHO, it almost worked. But not half as well as a Charlie Kaufman story. I think I Heart Huckabees failed because David O. Russell told the story through the wrong "access character." The Mark Wahlberg fireman was much more interesting (and passionate!) than the David Schwartzman drip - he should have been the protagonist.
Posted by: shecanfilmit | May 15, 2006 at 09:24 PM
Craig: Yes, it's great when your heart steers you towards... doing what you should be doing. Hope the book helps!
Thanks E.C. and MaryAn...
Chris: the link is in my post -- where it says "the article by David Ulin" (top of the 4th para).
I hear you re: the third act, but since the first two-thirds had been That Good, I went back to see "what went wrong." What I'd reacted to was what seemed a deliberate going against the grain of audience expectation -- I felt that, and felt it so strongly, that I was curious to explore the movie further... and when I did, I found the experience revelatory.
No "fawning over" here -- simply appreciation of exceptionally good and substantive work. And I don't think the Oscar was awarded for self-indulgence. I think it was awarded for someone taking the kinds of risks rarely taken in mainstream moviemaking... like, for example, writing a third act that would piss people off -- but which was the logical, appropriate and organic development of everything that had been set up at the front of the film! :-)
SheCan, re: Kaufman... what you said. Re: Russell... I'll have to confess I found that movie a struggle, but I'd be willing to take another look at it.
Posted by: mernitman | May 15, 2006 at 11:10 PM
I'll have to check it out. Sleeping is kind of hollow and creepy, I could never get into it. Without You is how I got drawn in, so it's obviously still my fave.
Posted by: Jenna | May 16, 2006 at 05:26 AM
Thanks for the great post, Billy.
I've always known that passion is the fuel that drives creativity. Thank God it doesn't cost $3.50 a gallon.
Posted by: chesher cat | May 16, 2006 at 10:48 AM
I agree that Kaufman is a good writer, but "his" films all too often leave me cold. I found Adaptation, in particular, to be extremely painful (can still hear Nic's kvetching, which almost had me running from the Sunshine screaming all the way down Houston). Cleverness does not a movie make, and the intervening cinematic moments--the car crash in "Adaptation," the visual erasing in ESotSM, the 7.5th floor in BJM--fade when confronted with belabored solipsism. I personally wish he'd stay on the page.
Posted by: Bill Sebring | May 16, 2006 at 11:40 AM
Link in post. DUH. And to clarify...yes, he IS brilliant, but I think it's only obvious in Eternal Sunshine. Jealous, I said...jealous.
cbs
Posted by: Chris Soth | May 16, 2006 at 09:22 PM
Chesher, I never thought of that -- passion is priceless!
Bill: And that's what makes horse racing, as they say, but I like that you pointed out three moments of inspired Kaufmania that even an anti-Charlie can respect.
Chris, you think YOU'RE jealous? Sheesh, considering that Eternal is a rom-com I only wish I coulda come up with, just know that it hurts me, too...
Posted by: mernitman | May 16, 2006 at 09:35 PM
Great post- many thanks for crystallising thoughts on theme and universal appeal. Thanks to the insight, it took only a few minutes to clarify my set-up scene and self-revelation for my novel re-write. Party on dude.
Posted by: Ray-Anne | June 07, 2006 at 10:55 AM