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Showing posts with label Robert de Niro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert de Niro. Show all posts

Sunday, August 18, 2013

How to be Successful as a Screenwriter



When you’re learning to write a screenplay, or you’re writing your first or your whatever, and you have no experience or contacts in the movie world but you’re passionate about your work and you have a powerful dream, you’re pretty vulnerable. You tend to believe anything anybody tells you so long as they do it convincingly.

You’re easy pickings for self-styled authorities who earn a grand living with books or lectures or seminars on how to write the perfect screenplay, how to avoid the mistakes that amateurs make. Who tell you that unless you write the perfect screenplay you won’t be able to sell it. And they of course know how to identify that perfection and formularize it. They make it sound so cut and dried.

You think – right! All I have to do is do what they tell me and I’ll be able to write the perfect screenplay and I’ll be made. QED, Quite Easily Done, as a mad Maths teacher once told me with a scary giggle. Better get onto that Oscar speech.

The vulnerability of scriptwriters not confident in their own judgment, humble enough and willing to learn and desperate to succeed has made for a giant sector within the movie industry. There’s everything right and nothing wrong with learning from pros, but it’s the gurus who believe they have plumbed the depths of the success formula and who seamlessly forge a connection between what they can teach you at a goodly price – or simply for their ego trip - and you being able to sell your screenplay that gets my goat.

If they’ve so got their finger on the success pulse, why are so many terrible scripts made into films? Here’s the reality: there’s no formula to success in selling your screenplay.

Take this scenario: you write a screenplay, you hand it to an editor. They tell you to throw it in the dumpster, there’s nothing of any value in it. You follow their advice. Well that’s the end of that, isn’t it? The next day you retrieve it and show it to another editor. They think it has merit but you need to change the sex of your protagonist. You don’t want to, so you show it to another editor, who says the sex of the protagonist is fine, but you need to change the storyline and they tell you how.

If you were to follow their advice you’d of course be ghostwriting their screenplay. But you follow it anyway, because you’re a novice and they know what they’re talking about. Or that’s what you believe. Eventually you write something that pleases this editor. You don’t feel as passionately about it as you did your original story. But you get to show it to a producer. Who doesn’t like it, says the story doesn’t feel authentic. You take a risk and say actually it’s not. The producer asks what you mean. You tell them, you originally wrote a different storyline altogether. The producer says what was it? You tell them. They like it.

As it happens, this is a true story. The writer was a South African, the producer from New York. The writer had attended a very prescriptive course and was told unless he changed his screenplay completely he didn’t have a chance in hell of it ever being read by a producer. He’d be lucky if it ever made it to the pile of reading matter in any producer’s toilet.

You can’t formularize why somebody succeeds and somebody doesn’t. You can read screenplays that you think are brilliant – and that probably somebody else thinks are dreadful – and learn what you can from them. You can study the craft, and structure that goes back to Greek plays. You can study people in depth so that your work reflects your insight. But, some people want that in films, some people don’t get it and don’t care. Or you can not understand people at all, and write something childish and shallow. Some will love it, some will hate it. You can please some but you can’t please all, no matter what you do.

Robert de Niro said once about auditioning that it’s pointless trying to impress the director. The best you can do is forget about impressing anybody, but just do the best you can. Be as authentically you as possible, because that’s where your greatest strength lies. I thought it was pretty good advice for any kind of creative enterprise.

Once you’ve done your best with a screenplay, you can show what you’ve written to anybody you want, but how do you know that any suggestions they make will make your work better or more marketable? You don’t. The impact of art in any form is totally subjective; there is no ultimate good or bad, especially with movies. Personally, I think it makes sense to do the best you can, then set about doing the best you can to sell it to a producer. If one says yes, I’ll buy it and here’s the money but I want you to change something, then if you want the money you can say fine, I’ll change it, when the money’s in my bank account.

Otherwise, you’re kind of pissing into the wind by changing things because other people think you should. You could spend your whole life trying to ‘perfect’ one screenplay. Better to write a score of less than perfect and try and sell them, and learn by your own experience how to be more powerful in what you want to say in your writing and in pitching to producers. Whether that power actually creates success or not I can’t say, but I do know it impacts on people. It’s kind of an animal thing.

Here’s what else I know; writing a screenplay is a huge amount of work. I can’t imagine anything worse than spending my whole life writing to try and please somebody else but never pleasing myself. And imagine if I never sold anything anyway. What a total waste of a life that would be.

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Barack Obama Comes to Town

 
Who do you think is coming to town?
You'll never guess who...

A few years ago I finished what I thought was the last draft of a script that I wanted Robert de Niro to produce and act in. As I typed 'END' I thought, wouldn't it be just great if I lived in New York, then I could my walk my script to him. Somehow.

The next day a friend told me Robert de Niro was here in Cape Town. I called everybody under the sun to try and find a way to get my script to him. His agent's PA's PA in LA said I didn't have a chance in heaven or hell. I called Tribeca Films in New York and the man I spoke to spat at me and slammed the phone down. I called the hotel de Niro was staying in here and they said sorry, you have to follow protocol. Whatever protocol was I wasn't in on it. I found out who his publicity person was in Cape Town and they were aloof and disinterested.

I tried to gate crash the big opening night of the hotel de Niro was staying in and men in tuxes and shades politely steered me away. I didn't have an invitation.

Utterly daunted and dispirited, I decided that asking people clearly wasn't going to get me anywhere. My Dad used to say do before you ask. You might get into trouble for whatever you do after you've done it but at least you get to do it.

So, script in sweaty hand I marched up to the grand hotel, sauntered into reception hoping nobody could see the holes in my shoes, and asked a receptionist to deliver my script to Robert de Niro. She asked me if he was expecting it. I said nonchalantly. "I'm not sure. I think so." I didn't move from my phone for weeks. He never called. He never wrote. I don't regret refusing to take no for an answer, but I rather hope he never got round to reading it because it was horribly amateur. I've done 3 more drafts and it still isn't finished.

When I heard Barack Obama was coming to town I did a double flip. I called everybody under the sun and they all told me there was no way any member of the public could get close to him. I understood that but I didn't like it. Didn't quite see myself trying to get past Presidential security, though.

On The Day I got cabin fever and went out to buy a pie and eat it on the beach. Console myself. Annoyed that I hadn't tried harder to find a way to see my political idol. I drove past a whole lot of kids and adults lining the streets by the entrance to an AIDS centre. Would you believe it, the Obamas were dropping in on that centre.

Police vans and cops clogged up the streets, even the cavalry was turned out. But it was security a la small suburb in Africa. No visible guns, no sinister looking men in shades. There were a couple of CIA lookalikes with earpieces, just like the movies, but it was all pretty relaxed.

We waited all day, kids climbing trees, sitting on walls, to get a better view. Excitement building. There were only about 150 of us, but by the time the advance guard arrived everybody was hopping.

We could see the limo coming for at least half a mile, surrounded by police cars and bikes, lights flashing. It was over in seconds. The limo swept past and in true Bridget Jones fashion I missed them. Most of the crowd left, but not me. The US President and I had a rendezvous and I wasn't going to be the one to renege. I waited another couple of hours and - da da da da!


He got out the car to shake my hand and tell me he reads my blog religiously. I swear he did.