here today

 

buddy cops

My buddy cop script is printing right now. It is very bad. Pretty sure it could pass for a parody, had I the energy for that. Instead, I am tired tired tired. 3:30am all week, even with a trip to see The Incredibles (very fun. why didn't I write a movie like that instead?) and a night out with Nike friend. Had said friend in tears with description of bad buddy cop script. Wish it were as fun to read as it is to talk about. Instead, it is just bad.

I am not being hard on myself, here. I am not looking for a few pats on the back or for sympathy. I am good at writing scripts. My first one was terrible, of course. But the others were readable and fun and sometimes funny.

This one, the one that is printing, is not any of those things. And it is the one I am handing in tomorrow at the end of my last writing class with the teacher who hates me. I'm sure there are very interesting psychological reasons why I wrote something so stinking awful for this expensive, time-consuming and painful class. Maybe it's my own little fuck you to the teacher who really does hate me. Because she has to spend two hours reading a script with, I kid you not, FBI agents dressed as old ladies, a bomb, machine guns, a double-crossing chief of police, a taciturn cop, a funny (buddy) cop, a karaoke bar, and the love interest who disappears after page 40 (something I just noticed this morning. in fact, a few characters don't stick around for the end of the script. I can understand why. They've probably all slunk off to a dark and smoky bar to hide out until this is all over. the script is very very bad.).

My other scripts were romantic comedies with characters I'd like to meet. They had long conversations about things that I find interesting. In the buddy cop script, some of the dialogue goes like this:

EDNA "What we need here are a few volunteers to jump out first"

CHARLOTTE "But the men with machine guns will shoot us"

That little bit of banter is on page 81. Also on that page is a large man called "Chicago Freddy". I swear to god.

I tell myself that I've learned a lot about structure. And pacing. And what genres I should avoid (buddy cop, action, porn). I've learned to write an outline, and to throw it out, and to wish that I hadn't thrown it out because then maybe my script would make sense (how did they get locked in the dining hall with FBI agents in drag?). I've learned about visual excitement and how necessary that is to a movie (Lost In Translation wouldn't have been the genius film it was without the piano bar, the crazy nightclubs, the views out the hotel window. Sure, the dialogue kicked ass, too). I've learned that in order to write something good, I have to have fun doing it and when it stops being fun, I have to notice, and change things before I'm suddenly knee-deep in guns and wigs and bad jokes.

so, I'll take all of that, and sleep on it.

next stop: Peace Dog.

Posted by: 120pages at 05:35 | link | comments |