Adaptation. Page #7

All right. It's just a thought, buddy.

I mean, he's really

goddamn amazing at structure.

I have to go.

All right. Adis, amigo.

Finish that...

F***!

Okay, thank you, thank you.

We have a long three days ahead.

Years from now, you'll be at a posh

cocktail party congratulating yourself

on how you spent a weekend with an

a**hole from Hollywood for your art.

I am pathetic. I am a loser.

So, what is the substance

of writing?

I have failed. I am panicked.

I have sold out. I am worthless.

I... What the f*** am I doing here?

What the f***

am I doing here? F***!

It is my weakness, my ultimate lack

of conviction that brings me here.

Easy answers,

rules to shortcut yourself to success.

And here I am because my jaunt

into the abyss brought me nothing.

Well, isn't that the risk one takes

for attempting something new?

I should leave right now. I'll start over.

I need to face this project head-on...

And God help you if you use

voice-over in your work, my friends.

God help you.

It's flaccid, sloppy writing.

Any idiot can write narration to

explain the thoughts of the character.

Okay, that's it.

One hour for lunch.

You cannot have a protagonist

without desire.

It doesn't make any sense.

Any f***ing sense.

You follow? Good.

Anyone else?

Yes?

What if a writer is attempting to create

a story where nothing much happens?

Where people don't change,

they don't have any epiphanies.

They struggle and are frustrated,

and nothing is resolved.

More a reflection

of the real world.

The real world?

Yes, sir.

The real f***ing world.

First of all, you write a screenplay

without conflict or crisis,

you'll bore your audience to tears.

Secondly, nothing happens

in the world?

Are you out of your f***ing mind?

People are murdered every day.

There's genocide, war, corruption.

Every f***ing day,

somewhere in the world,

somebody sacrifices his life

to save somebody.

Every day, someone somewhere

takes a conscious decision

to destroy someone else.

People find love.

People lose it.

A child watches a mother beaten

to death on the steps of a church.

Someone goes hungry.

Somebody else betrays

his best friend for a woman.

If you can't find that stuff in life,

then you, my friend,

don't know crap about life!

And why the f*** are you wasting my

two precious hours with your movie?

I don't have any use for it!

I don't have any

bloody use for it!

Okay, thanks.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

No. Thank you.

Thank you so much, Mr. McKee.

This course makes you look at

writing in a whole different way.

Mr. McKee.

Yes?

I'm the guy you yelled at

this morning.

I need more.

I'm the one who thought

things didn't happen in life.

Ah. Right. Okay.

Nice to see you.

I need to talk.

Mr. McKee, my even

standing here is very scary.

I don't meet people well.

But what you said this morning

shook me to the bone.

It was bigger than

my screenwriting choices.

It was about my choices

as a human being. Please.

Yeah.

Well, you know, I could

sure use a drink, my friend.

"...But a little fantastic

and fleeting and out of reach."

Then what happens?

Well, that's the end

of the book.

I wanted to present it simply

without big character arcs

or sensationalizing the story.

I wanted to show flowers

as God's miracles.

I wanted to show that Orlean never

saw the blooming ghost orchid.

It was about disappointment.

I see.

That's not a movie.

You gotta go back,

put in the drama.

I can't go back. I've got pages of

false starts and wrong approaches.

I'm way past my deadline.

I'll tell you a secret.

A last act makes a film.

Wow them in the end,

and you got a hit.

You can have flaws, problems,

but wow them in the end

and you've got a hit.

Find an ending. But don't cheat.

And don't you dare bring in

a deus ex machina.

Your characters must change

and the change

must come from them.

Do that and you'll be fine.

You promise?

Mr. McKee.

Have you taken my course before?

My brother did.

My twin brother, Donald.

He's the one who got me to come.

Twin screenwriters?

Yeah.

Well, Julius and Philip Epstein,

who wrote Casablanca,

they were twins

You mentioned that in class.

Finest screenplay ever written.

Great writers' residence.

Donald.

Hey, how's your trip going?

You getting it on with that

lady journalist, you dog, you?

Yeah.

Listen, I'm just calling to say

congratulations on your script.

Isn't that cool? Marty says he can

get me high-sixes against a mil-five.

That's great, Donald.

I want to thank you

for all your help.

I wasn't any help.

Come on,

you let me stay in your place.

And your integrity

inspired me to even try.

It's been a wild ride.

Catherine says

she wants to play Cassie.

Oh, please!

Ha, ha, ha.

Please, Donald?

Catherine Keener?

Catherine Keener's in my house?

Yeah, we're playing Boggle.

She's great. You should really

hang out with her, Charles.

Yeah. Um, look...

I've been thinking.

Maybe you'd be interested in hanging

out for a few days in New York.

Oh, my God, yes.

Yeah?

I was gonna show my script

to some people,

and, well, maybe you could

read it too, you know, if you like.

Of course. I'd be flattered.

Okay.

Thanks, Charles.

Okay, bye.

So, like, what would you do?

The script kind of

makes fun of me, huh?

I'm sorry. I was trying something...

Hey, I don't mind. It's funny.

Good. Okay.

So, what would you do?

You and me are so different,

Charles. We're different talents.

I know. Just for fun...

how would the great Donald

end this script?

Heh, heh. Shut up.

"The great Donald."

I feel like you're missing something.

All right. Like what?

Look.

I did a little research

on the airplane.

"Sometimes this kind of story

turns out to be something more,"

some glimpse of life

that expands

like those Japanese paper balls

you drop in water

and they bloom into flowers

and the flower is so marvelous

you can't believe there was

a time all you saw

"was a paper ball

and a glass of water."

First of all, that's inconsistent.

She said she didn't care about flowers.

For God's sake, it's just a metaphor.

Well, but for what?

What turned that paper ball

into a flower?

It's not in the book, Charles.

I don't know. You're reaching.

Maybe.

But I think you actually need to

speak to this woman. To know her.

I can't.

Really.

I'll go.

I'll pretend I'm you.

I want to do it, Charles.

We'll get to the bottom of this.

We're gonna fix your movie, bro.

But you've gotta be exactly me.

I have a reputation

to maintain.

You can't be a goofball.

Can't be an a**hole.

I'm not an a**hole.

You know what I mean.

No flirting.

No bad jokes.

Don't laugh how you laugh.

I'm not gonna laugh.

I get to have people think I'm you.

It's an honor.

So I guess I'll bring out

the big guns now.

Do you keep in touch

with Laroche?

I felt I detected an attraction to him

in the subtext. Care to comment?

Uh...

Well, our relationship

was strictly reporter-subject.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes