Decade in Review, Revisited: The Screenplays

Screenplays are different from the actual films they precipitate. Quite often the screenplay ends up being my favourite of a film. It all begins with the screenplay really – here are the ones that I remember most clearly from the last decade.

Runners Up: (Alpha): Big Fish* – adapted (2003); Bright Star* – original (2009); Brokeback Mountain – adapted (2005); The Constant Gardener – adapted (2005); Corpse Bride* – original (2005); The Fantastic Mr. Fox – adapted (2009); In the Loop – adapted (2009); Little Miss Sunshine  – original (2006); Mean Girls* – adapted (2004); (2009); The Others* – original (2001)

       

#15: A History of Violence (2005), adaptation by Josh Olson

Richie Cusack: “So you like that farm life? Milking cows and shit?”
Tom Stall: “I don't have a farm.”
Richie Cusack: [chuckling] “No? Fogarty thought you lived on some kind of farm. Said you could smell pig. How that old fart would know what a pig smells like, I don't know, but that's what he said.”

Visceral is not a word I find myself using often, but it’s the one that comes to mind immediately when I think of A History of Violence. It approaches an issue – a character with two sensibilities – in a manner that’s unorthodox and also quite sanguine. Its aim is not to shock, at least not unwarrantedly. In approaching the concept with such smoothness Tom Stall becomes a symbol for any man.

     

#14: Chicago (2002), adaptation by Bill Condon

Billy: “When she returns, she gently wakes up Harry. Harry says, "What? I'm alone." She says, "Alone? You got two other women in bed with you ." So, get this. Harry says, Come on , doll . You gonna believe what you see or what I tell you?”

Marshall is not credited, though a significant amount of the idea emanates from him. Still, Condon does excellent here. He doesn’t get overwhelmed by Ebb and Kander’s standards and forget to make sure they’re resting on a dependable set of words. He raises the standard ensuring that the every scene exists as it should and the spoken scenes succeed as much as the musical ones.

        

#13: You Can Count on Me (2000), originated by Kenneth Lonergan

Terry: “Where are we going?”
Sammy: “To pick up Rudy.”
Terry: “What, do you not even want me to come visit now?”
Sammy: “Of course I want you to visit, you idiot! I've been looking forward to seeing you from the moment I got your letter, I told everyone in town that you were coming home, I cleaned the whole fucking house just so it would look nice for you! I had no idea you were just broke again! I wish you'd just send me an invoice!”

A bitingly realistic and poignant look at filial love, it’s easy to forget and just see the excellent work being done by Ruffalo and Linney. Longergan crafts his screenplay with a surprising lack of pretentiousness, and even when we might hope for something a little more “movie-like” she’s careful to ensure that her characters are acting in keeping with the world he’s created for them.

#12: Babel (2006), originated by Guillermo Arriaga

Yussef: “I killed the American, I was the only one who shot at you. They did nothing... nothing. Kill me, but save my brother, he did nothing... nothing. Save my brother... he did nothing. ”

It’s simple to ignore because of Crash, which it’s mistakenly seen as a derivative of. It does tend to get a little bit too heavy-handed when delving into its symbolism but I forgive a few of its occasional missteps because in the greater realm of things I do treasure its ultimate result. The balancing between the three narratives is handled gracefully; and the message though obvious is not less profound for it.

#11: Traffic (2000), adapted by Stephen Gaghan

Caroline: “On the good days, I feel like I get it, like it all makes sense. I can stay in the moment, I don't have to control everything in the future, and I believe everything is gonna work out fine. On the bad days I just want to grab the phone and start dialing numbers. I want to pull my hair and run through the streets screaming. But thanks to the people I've met in these rooms, like Margaret and Jim and Sarah, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna make it through today.” 

Another massive ensemble drama, Traffic depends significantly on its screenplay. It's riveting and it flies by, but it's also incredibly smart. Gaghan has an ear for dialogue, especially topical dialogue, and the script serves as an excellent appraisal of current affairs.

     

#10: Erin Brockovich (2000), originated by Susannah Grant

Erin: “I've been working, that is all I have been doing, what am I supposed to do check in with you every two seconds?” 
Brenda: “Yes, it's called accountability and...” 
Erin: “I'm not talking to you, bitch!”
Brenda: “Excuse me?” 
Erin: “Get out of my face!”

This is another one that’s often overlooked. Grant takes a concept that’s almost pedestrian – the hardworking heroine against the world – and creates a screenplay that’s uncluttered and not at all condescending. We forget at times that at the end of the day this film is ultimately a legal drama, because Grant is willing to touch on more than just a single issue in her script.

    

#9: An Education (2009), adaptation by Nick Hornby

Helen: We should go shopping together one day, if you want.
Jenny: That would be nice. But South Ken, C'est beaucoup trop cher pour moi.
[Pause]
Helen: Sorry?
Jenny: I just said...It was too expensive for me.
Helen: No you didn't. You said something completely different.

Hornby has the admirable ability to push a host of ideas into a particularly short screenplay. Moreover, though it ostensibly focuses on something as singular as a girl’s “coming-of-age” each character, regardless of their relative importance, speaks words that are completely their own.

#8: Match Point (2005), originated by Woody Allen

Chris: “The man who said "I'd rather be lucky than good" saw deeply into life. People are afraid to face how great a part of life is dependent on luck. It's scary to think so much is out of one's control. There are moments in a match when the ball hits the top of the net, and for a split second, it can either go forward or fall back. With a little luck, it goes forward, and you win. Or maybe it doesn't, and you lose.” 

On the surface it’s just Woody Allen’s perverse take on a classic tale, but underneath it’s a thoroughly original and almost subversive take on people in the world. It stings as much as it amuses and when you think it’s a trifle there’s always something deeper lurking below – if you’re willing to look closer.

      

#7: The Departed (2006), adaptation by William Monahan

Uncle Ed: “Are you trying to prove something to the family?”
Billy Costigan: “When you say "the family," who do mean exactly? You?”
Uncle Ed: “You always have to question everything, don't you?”
Billy Costigan: “Maybe it would have done you some good to have some *questions* from time to time, you know? Am I an asshole? Are my kids a mess? Is my wife a money-grubbing whore? I mean, those are questions, right? Have I ever been good to my dying sister or am I just now pretending to be?”

Monahan’s adaptation of the Asian drama is a beast of its own. Complete with little character idiosyncrasies that are all his Monahan’s piece is completely original – adaptation or not. The world he creates is probably fabricated but everything that occurs is rendered believable simply because of the sameness throughout the narrative.

#6: Burn After Reading* (2008), originated by Ethan and Joel Coen

Osbourne: “And you're my wife's lover?”
Ted: [shaking his head] “No.”
Osbourne: “Then what are you doing here? [pause] I know you. You're the guy from the gym.”
Ted: “I'm not here representing HardBodies.”
Osbourne: “Oh, yes. I know very well what you represent. [pause] You represent the idiocy of today. ”

This remains as one of the most inventive comedies of the decade, and the script is one of the decade’s best. The entire thing is permeated with a glorious amount of irreverence that doesn’t stop the harsh truths in the screenplay from being seen. It’s the very fact that it doesn’t take itself too seriously though, not caring to sentimentalise any of its characters.

#5: Atonement (2007), adaptation by Christopher Hampton

Robbie: “Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.”

Not as piercing as his work on Dangerous Liaisons, but done with the same amount of astonishing brevity. Like any such adaptation the script is littered with bits of symbolism here and there, and it must have been a task creating a screenplay from McEwan’s impressive novel. He doesn’t quake at the challenge, though, and the story works well on its own.

       

#4: The Hours (2003), adaptation by David Hare

Laura: “It would be wonderful to say you regretted it. It would be easy. But what does it mean? What does it mean to regret when you have no choice? It's what you can bear. There it is. No one's going to forgive me. It was death. I chose life.”

I’ve not read Cunningham’s novel, though I’ve read extensive biographies on Woolf and Mrs. Dalloway. The screenplay exists seamlessly; there are three women but it is one story. Oddly, it never becomes too “talky”, the dialogue is never obtrusive. Instead everything flows together in beautiful subtlety.

#3: Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead* (2007), originated by Kelly Masterson

Gina: “When are you going to grow up, Hank? We have a really good thing going, and you should just enjoy it. We have a really good time in bed. I don't ask for anything.”
Hank: “I love you. I want more.”
Gina: “So does Oliver Twist.” 

Masterson’s script is discordant, but that's the beauty of it. Such a tale could easily have become a message film, instea she turns it into a nuanced character study giving every character their pivotal moment – and ensuring that plot points that occur are readdressed. She refuses to conform to the norm creating a world that is completely hers.

     

#2: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), originated Charlie Kauffman with Michael Gondry

Joel: “I can't see anything that I don't like about you.”
Clementine: “But you will! But you will. You know, you will think of things. And I'll get bored with you and feel trapped because that's what happens with me.”
Joel: “Okay.”
Clementine: [pauses] “Okay. ”

It’s an obvious choice, but deservedly so. It is a work that’s strikingly original even though the issues are ones we know all too well. Ostensibly it seems to be science fiction, but that solitary plot point is just that, and the issues addressed are done so with some of the most perceptive and smart comedic writing.

#1: Gosford Park (2001), originated by Julian Fellowes with Robert Altman

Sylvia: “Where's that wretched Mabel.”
Aunt Constance: “Has anyone checked her outfit? She's probably in black velvet with a feather in her hair.”
Lavinia: “She's in the morning room looking perfectly normal. Don't be such a snob aunt Constance.”
Aunt Constance: “Me? I haven't a snobish bone in my body.”

So subtle and yet so intense, addressing serious issues and yet so hilarious it’s a choice that comes easily – almost too easily. The ensemble drama gives the writer much ground to cover, and Fellowes does it with aplomb. He travels upstairs, downstairs and back again – but never tries too hard. Character development is vivid, but sometimes subtle we need to look (and listen) carefully…and just when you think you can put it in a box, he’s waiting to add something to new. Perfect.

     

Twelve originals and thirteen adaptations make up my twenty favourite screenplays. The ones with asterisks (seven) were, unfortunately, ignored by the Academy.

     

Which screenplay from the last decade would you want to take credit for?

"Meet Me In Montauk"

Late in the film when Clementine and Joel meet (for the first time chronologically) we get the feeling that we’re experiencing some strange time of déjà vu. It’s a different time and yet our protagonists are exactly the same. Sure, her hair isn’t the same colour, and sure they’re not on a bus alone but Joel’s good-natured blandness is the same and Clementine’s almost sadistic cheer is still there. In what’s arguably one of the most poignant moments in the film Joel and Clementine watch as Clementine and Joel break into a house. Disconcerted by this unusual woman Joel leaves. As they look on Clementine turns to him and says, “What if you stayed this time?” That, right there, is the core of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Of course it’s decidedly difficult to recreate what you’ve already forgotten but as Joel resists the erasure procedure and as the film reaches its dénouement that piece that is the human in us all realises our love of second tries…or even the third. After all Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is about repetition

I’ve often heard Eternal Sunshine referred to as a romantic comedy, but I’m never that sure that it’s a romance. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind works because it’s completely aware of one thing – its characters. It’s not exactly a character study in the most stringent sense of the word, but from Winslet’s tumultuous Clementine to Dunst’s almost pathetic Mary. There’s no one in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind that falsified and with a plot that focuses on erasure of memories, it can’t be. With his pervasive script Kaufman takes a look at the minds of us all and even more, he looks at the relation we have to fate. Erasing a single thing, even thoroughly, can’t particularly prevent us from our own inclinations as humans. The saying goes; the heart wants what the heart wants – even when the mind doesn’t have a clue. And yet, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind doesn’t exactly hit us over the head with its message, if you can call it that.

                   

Whenever I think of the film my mind returns, almost immediately, to that train ride to Montauk. It’s tied to that scene in the erasure as Clementine wanly whispers to Joel, “Meet me in Montauk.” Of course, neither of the two is aware of their past predilection for each other, but the two click, with each other even when they don’t. It’s the sort of chemistry that seems strange, but works. Jim Carey and Kate Winslet don’t exactly cross the mind as a typical couple, but it’s their unusualness that makes them work so well – and the very fact that it’s Joel and Clementine we’re watching on film, not Jim or Kate. It’s the complete self-awareness of Clementine even as she’s self deprecating – “I apply my personality in a paste” – she says, almost as if for reaffirmation. Or, Joel’s very dour opening monologues that Carey plays just right.

            

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is not a film I can extract the best scenes and write a logical analysis of, it doesn’t really work like that. It’s all the odd, idiosyncratic bits and pieces together that make for the excellence that it is. It’s a true gem, and oddly, unlike most excellent films, it’s actually remembered for its goodness. Only yesterday Luke listed it as his 33rd favourite film. It lays just a notch lower at #34 on my own list.

Performances of the Decade (Female)

It’s anyone’s guess why British actors are so successful in Hollywood. I suppose if you measure it there are more American actors in the business – obviously – but when we think of important thespians (Olivier, Burton, Leigh, Hopkins, Day Lewis, Dench) we often turn to that little island and with the new generation of actors coming up even though Australia and other parts of Europe have made their indelible stamp on it all, there is still a significant quantity of British talent continuing to impress on the screen. And few are more important than this lovely lady in this wonderful performance.

            

#10 Kate Winslet in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

Many single this out as Kate’s best. I wouldn’t go there, but with such an illustrious résumé there are a number of performances you could make the best of argument for. Eternal Sunshine was one of the better films from 2004 featuring a brilliant turn from Jim Carey as Joel Barish; but the performance that stuck with me the most was Winslet’s Clementine. It’s difficult to adequately analyse the merits of Carey and Winslet in this comedy since the film’s nonlinear format asks you to assess their performances in no stratified order, so it’s not until the end we can look back and fill in the blanks. A favourite part of mine occurs towards the beginning of the film – though it’s towards the end in real time – the trip to Montauk. It would probably rank somewhere in top 10 scenes of the decade and though Carey’s boorish discomfort is effective it is Kate – completely – who makes it work. The conversation may sound pointless and meandering to the less attentive but it’s filled with little clues that Gondry is giving us and Winslet sells it completely.

Clementine has a number of hangups, and she knows them. In fact, she reveals a key portion of her character early on. She says it herself actually – I’m a vindictive little bitch, truth be told. It sounds like a throwaway, but it’s not actually. But as moody as she is Clementine is she is also spontaneous, fun and honest. It’s sort of a tug-o-war between the good and the bad and it’s this irrepressibility about her that Joel adores so much and it’s the difficult task Kate is given. It’s an occupational hazard, but I always marvel at Winslet’s ability to do accents. It’s precise without ever sounding pedantic and I credit her Clementine with some of my favourite line readings – You’re freaked out because I was out late without you, and in your wormy little brain…you’re trying to figure out, did she fuck someone tonight? It’s to Kate’s credit that we want to slap and hug Clementine at the same time.

The thing is when an actor becomes renowned they’re often boxed into a particular niche. A free spirit like Clementine doesn’t seem like the “quintessential” Kate performance, but Kate is an actress – above all else – and it’s a credit to her talent that she makes Clementine work. Like my favourite performance of hers – Marianne Dashwood – the performance depends on the candour and sensibility of her character. We don’t often think of Kate like this, but it’s how I often remembered her. Whether with a British accent or an American one I love her playfulness and her honesty. When she says I’m just a fucked up girl looking for her own piece mind we're right there with her. She is isn't she? Her Clementine is real and absolutely perfect - flaws and all. Few do line readings are as well as Kate's and with Gondry’s brilliant script she’s exceptional.

                      

I don’t think anyone will argue against this. It’s one of Kate’s most beloved. It’s not my favourite of hers though. Is it yours?