I could begin this post three ways. Being too lazy to make up my mind, I shall
include all three of them.
Beginning One:
Ten or so years ago, I took a nighttime “extension” course at UCLA on “Constitutional Law”, wherein,
among other landmark decisions, such as Brown
v. Board of Education (1954) – abolishing segregation in public schools –
and Roe v. Wade (1973) – you probably
know that one – there was Loving v.
Virginia (1967), a unanimous decision invalidating state laws, prohibiting
marriage between members of different races, it’s constitutional “right to
privacy” interpretation paving the way for subsequent decisions, involving the legal purchasing
of contraceptives, the Roe decision
itself, and, decades later, the rights of gay people to marry, “Loving” thus becoming
the initial blow in a series of “It’s none of your damn business” adjudications.
So that’s “Beginning One.”
Long but, I think, informative.
Beginning Two:
Every year, members of the Writers
Guild receive promotional material intended to win favor for the studios’ more
prestigious releases, gunning for Oscars
consideration. Not that all writers are
in the Motion Picture Academy; we
aren’t. But before the Oscars voting, there are the Writers Guild Awards. A victory there could enhance the film’s
chances for a possible Oscars
nomination, though not as reliably as winning a Golden Globes Award selected by a gaggle of Foreign Press
sycophants but it’s something. Maybe.
Who cares? I get free DVDs sent
to the house. And also, occasionally, and
more meaningfully from a writer’s
perspective, published copies of the scripts.
“Beginning Two” – boring but illuminating. Somewhat.
Beginning Three:
I really dislike reading the “For Your Consideration” screenplays they
send out. The print size in annoyingly
miniscule (to save money.) Besides that,
there are tons of tedious screen directions – CUT TO: being the only one I
can easily understand – plus my eyes water plowing through the reams of detailed
description, more helpful to “Location Finders” than to yours truly. Most disappointingly, because the scripts we
receive are literally stenographized replications of what appears on the
screen, you don’t learn anything about screenwriting the way you would if the script
included revised dialogue and strategic omissions from the final version. You are simply “reading a movie.” Which, the contrast in my appreciation
reminds me, was written to be seen.
I kind of like “Beginning Three.” Because as fascinating as “Beginning One” and
“Beginning Two” were, “Beginning Three” blends organically into what I am about
to say. Which is,
Reading Loving –
the screenplay, not the Supreme Court
decision, which was interesting but “lawyerly”, was a warmly satisfying
exception to my overall antipathy to reading screenplays. The script’s unassuming simplicity, mirroring
the unassuming simplicity of its central characters, made me enjoy reading the
screenplay, respond empathetically to the story’s central characters and admire
respectfully the creative auspices behind the movie, who opted to eschew
histrionical “fireworks” in favor of storytelling that is as believably natural
as the pivotal characters being portrayed.
Destroying, in the process, however, any chances of Loving’s winning an Oscar because, despite the intensely dramatic nature of the
narrative and the historic impact of the decision, nobody in the movie lost
their minds, ran precariously amok or made long and impassioned orations.
They just calmly – and honestly – told the story.
The quintessential example (simultaneously encompassing the
heart of the story and the tone of the storytelling):
The Lovings’ attorney
is about to plead their case in front of the highest judicial body in the land.
THE LOVINGS’
ATTORNEY: “Is there anything
you’d like me to say to the Supreme Court of the United States?”
RICHARD LOVING: “Yeah.
You tell the judge I love my wife.”
An additional bonus, at least for me, is a moment in the
script where the screenwriter pulls off a tickling “reversal” on the
expectations of the audience.
SETTING UP THE MOMENT: The married Lovings and their children have secretly
moved back to rural Virginia, risking, if caught, certain “hard time” incarceration. As a hobby, Richard Loving serves as a
mechanic, helping his friend Raymond an amateur car racer partake in local “pick-up”
competitions.
And then we have this:
Richard stands on a
ladder hammering together a wooden frame against the doorway of one of the out buildings… Richard, from
the vantage point of the ladder, sees Raymond’s car tearing towards the
house. Dust flying.
Richard watches, but a
panic slowly takes over. He slides off
the ladder and runs towards the house.
RICHARD: “Bean!
Call the boys. Peggy, take Meme
inside.”
Richard runs down the
drive to Raymond’s car.
The car slides to a
stop in a cloud of dust. Raymond, climbs
out, in a real hurry.
Richard arrives out of
breath. His hands hit his knees.
RICHARD: “What is it?”
RAYMOND: “I got a message for you.”
RICHARD: “What?”
RAYMOND: “That lawyer called. He says he needs to meet with y’all.”
Richard stands
straight. He looks back at the house to
hear Mildred calling the boys from the porch.
His attention goes back to his friend.
RICHARD: “Raymond, why you driving so fast like that?”
RAYMOND: “What you mean? That’s how I always drive.”
Man, did I laugh.
Once again, it’s the old story. Did I like it ‘cause they did it right? Or did I like it ‘cause they did it the way I
like it?
I don’t know. I just
liked it.
And for me, liking reading a screenplay…
That’s quite an accomplishment.
3 comments:
Thanks for mentioning this. I enjoyed the movie as well, not only because of the understatement, but I appreciate the fact that it allowed me to fill in what was not being stated. I cannot recall which "Charlie's Angels" movie it was, but one of the characters (I gather, I came in on the middle of this) was dancing up a storm, presumably because it was assumed she couldn't. That was fine, however, another character was shouting out the dances she was doing while she was doing them. They couldn't let me see that they were good, someone had to TELL me.
Yecch.
By contrast, Preston Sturges wanted to
"Moonlight" is similarly understated, albeit not as surprising.
I'm glad you included the first two beginnings. It helped me better understand the rest of your post.
What I was TRYING to say was:
By contrast, Preston Sturges wanted to show how distant a husband and wife had become. In "The Great McGinty", McGinty a street person that is groomed to be mayor. He's trying to go to bed and instead, he opens a closet door.
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