like a bat out of hell, except less bat-like.
The quote of the day:
"Fire! Fire! Cat?"
We got back and it was time to begin the conference. This is the Austin Heart of Film Screenwriters's Conference's 5th year; this is Pooks's 4th visit and Mary's 2nd or 3rd. So they know a lot of people here already, all of whom were in the lobby milling about. I met a ton of people in a very short time and had to use tricks to keep them straight: Daniel's the guy with the camera, Ron has glasses, Brian is extremely tall...
I could see how if you made a repeat visit, you'd already have a bunch of people you knew when you got here, and that would be a big incentive to return.
I went to the first panel with Pooks and Mary--"What to do when the muses are taking a coffee break: Creativity", which I thought sounded pretty stupid but Pooks assured me wouldn't be, because one of the guest speakers was Patrick Sheane Duncan (Courage Under Fire, Mr. Holland's Opus, Nick of Time), who is a very good speaker. The other guest speaker was Jeremy Pikser, who co-wrote Bulworth.
Pooks was right: Patrick Sheane Duncan is a very interesting speaker. I didn't get the feeling that I wanted to talk to him in person--maybe because he talked about how he works on 5 or 6 scripts at a time, or because he's so confident and successful that I'd have nothing to add to the conversation. But he was a very good speaker.
Some of the tips they mentioned:
- Have folders full of ideas, stories, and characters.
- Write something awful on purpose.
- Go see a bad movie--and rewrite it.
- Pitch your story to a friend and talk it out.
- Go to bed thinking about the scene you're working on.
- Find a stimulating environment--if you have to go write in a bar or disco, go there and write. (Both Duncan and Pikser write in clubs.)
- Figure out what the emotional response for the scene is.
I ran by the Eckerds drugstore to get a clipboard--I am always buying clipboards but never bringing them with me to places where I might actually use them, and at this conference was one place where I might actually use one--and then by Starbucks to get some coffee.
Then I went to the Rewriting panel, which had Jeremy Pikser and Dale Launer (Ruthless People, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, My Cousin Vinny). Their main advice was: if someone's paying you, then change it; other than that, blow it off (unless it's a change you really, really believe in).
MODERATOR
Can you talk a little about working
with Warren Beatty?
PIKSER
Not if we're on tape.
One of the interesting things they talked about how to interpret comments received on a script, and how to factor them in for rewriting.
- "These characters are too TV": just work on the characters. Don't sit there trying to figure out how to make them less TV.
- "We want to know more about this character": We want you to imbue this character with a personality trait that factors into the story later on.
There was other good advice, such as "Every single scene should move the story along. Or be really funny."
Dale Launer told a funny story about working on Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, which was being shot during a WGA strike. So as a writer, he could do nothing; as executive producer, he was on the set. "$2500 a week with nothing to do. In the South of France."
The conference held a welcoming cocktail party on the mezzanine, with plenty of tables of food and a cash bar. I got a glass of water and walked around. I decided to give myself the goal of speaking to 3 people--once I'd done that, I could go upstairs. I did pretty well: I chatted with Jeremy Pikser for a while (he asked me what I liked about the panels so much; I said, "The anecdotes," and he said, "That seems to be what everyone likes"), a woman I know from online, a guy I know from online, and then Pooks, with whom I discussed evening plans. We decided to meet in the bar at 6 to go over to the premiere of Pleasantville.
Since Darin wasn't attending the conference, he didn't have the magic badge to get him into all the screenings. We became a little worried about getting him a ticket to Pleasantville, so we headed over early. At 6:15 (the screening was scheduled for 7:00) the theater was about half full. I wondered aloud if I should try to save seats for everyone else. "No," Darin said.
(I discovered later that the people I'd talked with about going to the movie were all sitting in the back of the theater and had saved us seats, but had long since given them up. <snarl>)
After the movie a large group of attendees, the vast majority of whom knew one another from previous conferences, went to dinner. Darin, being the one who had gone to UT Austin, led us to Katz's. Unfortunately, his memory was a little hazy and he took us a little out of our way, going down to 4th Street instead of staying on 6th. It was also a little further than anyone had bargained for--instead of a medium-sized walk it verged on long--and everyone made jokes about it. I felt a little embarrassed, since I didn't know most of these people, but they seemed to get over it and find the will to eat.
We returned to the hotel late--the movie had run long, then coordinating our large dinner party had taken some doing, then dinner took a while--and Darin went up to bed. I stayed in the bar with Pooks and Ruth, since I had heard so much about the famed bar scene at the Driskill during the conference. (Ruth I had met with Pooks a few months ago, and during this get-together both of them had the same dark red hair coloring, which made me suspect they were in cahoots about picking the shade.)
Problem #1: the bar resembled a bombed-out derelict building. A ripped-out ceiling and construction materials everywhere and couches laid out in a less than congenial fashion were not offset by the strands of white Christmas lights strung from the rafters.
Problem #2: the panelists at the conference had been put up at the Omni Hotel, across the street. (We found this out later.) One of the big draws of the Austin Heart of Film Screenwriters' Conference is how accessible the panelists have been, hanging out in the bar and chatting, letting their hair down, not having the same "Who are you and what can you do for me?" dynamic so prevalent at other conferences (especially ones based in Los Angeles). Well, few of them were staying at the hotel, so they were far and few between at the bar. Not the same sort of camraderie. I came to feel like some kind of leper, like I caused this situation, as this was my first year.
INT. BAR - NIGHT
DIANE and POOKS chat as conference attendees mill about.
A MAN, clearly two sheets to the wind and hoisting his
third sheet, interrupts them.
MAN
Are you Ruth?
POOKS
No, I'm Pooks.
MAN
You're Pooks! Okay. Okay. Are you Ruth?
DIANE
No, I'm Diane.
MAN
Oh wow. Wow. You're Diane? Wow.
DIANE
And...you are?
Turned out this was our friend Derek, from online, who was just as boisterous (if not a little smartass and strange) in person as he is online. The four of us--Pooks, Ruth, Derek, and I--ended up chatting until last call, with Derek insisting on buying all our drinks and telling us who everyone in the room was.
He pointed to a middle-aged guy sitting in a cluster of seats with other panelists such as Polly Platt. "Know who that guy is?" Derek said.
I took the bait. (Of course. You knew I would.) "No, who?"
"That's Paul Schrader."
Hey, the Antichrist. Right there, a few feet away.
"Wanna meet him?"
"No thanks."
Derek was so weird he bought us all shots of Patron tequila, despite the fact that Ruth and Pooks said over and over again they wouldn't drink it. I drank mine, in very tiny sips, over the course of an hour. I have no idea what the hell the four of us talked about, not because I got drunk, but because it was just nonsense and went on for a very long time. I had a good time though.
And now, on to the premiere of Pleasantville.
Darin and I really enjoyed this movie. It's the story of a guy who's a misfit at his modern-day high school and his too-cool slutty sister who, by the help of a magical remote control, find themselves transported into the brother's favorite family sitcom from the 50's/60's, Pleasantville. The movie is about how they manage to screw up the perfect suburban existence for everybody (and really, it's for their own good). If you've been tainted by the radical notions that the brother and sister have introduced, you become colorized, which was done quite well--or, as I put it, a special effect that has a point.
I thought the screenplay was very well-done--funny, coherent, touching, had a point--and while the ending was just a little too pat, I felt as though those were 2 of the better hours I've spent in a movie theater recently.
After the movie, of course, a whole bunch of plot holes were discussed and a few weak scenes totally torn apart--it's a convention of screenwriters, after all--but the problems with it didn't bother me at all while watching it. My main quibble with it is somewhat minor: I was somewhat disappointed by the action that finally makes the brother regain his colorful existence.
The movie projection experience was less than satisfactory: at a few points the sound went out for a few seconds, and then somewhere in one of the later reels they lost both picture and sound. After several minutes of starts and stops--always at a different places--the house lights came up and the writer/director, Gary Ross (Big, Dave), came out.
"We can do the Q and A now, or we can go back to the start of the reel, which is the bowling scene."
Overwhelmingly, the audience wanted to go back to the start of the reel, which probably gratified Ross a lot. I found out later that he'd wanted to pull the movie altogether, because he was so upset by the projection problems, so the audience enthusiasm was probably very welcome.
Anyhow, Darin and I both liked it a lot.
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Copyright 1998 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com