Two days to finish the film, so I’m drinking wine in a bar and filling in blanks with appropriate quips.
It’s hard to think of funny lines when you’re obliged to. You want organic hilarity, and sometimes it’s pretty tricky. I don’t tend to walk into rooms and make people die of laughter. There are very specific people who have that skill. I’m more of a slow burner. Five days after my quips you will find yourself giggling in the queue for the bank. Or like, getting on with your life.
Tom and I got ‘punch drunk’ with giggles yesterday as we went over Act 2 with a fine comb, our brains searching for appropriate lines of dialogue to hit that emotional beat or express that childhood regret. In the end we descended into silly innuendos. The alternative script would be filled with ‘that’s what she said.’
The difficult thing is hearing a line of dialogue in your head, and knowing that beyond what you have written you have no control over how an actor might say it.
Tom and myself have imaginary dream actors in our heads saying the lines, which makes the process easier, but you know it’s just personal preference with regards to the reading. You will have no control over it. I guess that’s the exciting part. Seeing what other people take away from your script. What they react to.
When we hand in our first draft on Tuesday it will be the end of a three year journey that has seen many tears (all mine) frustrations, and all the lols. And the endless destruction of ideas. I am such an idea horder, and find it difficult to let go of anything. Which doesn’t make for a compact script at all. It wouldn’t be punchy if you kept everything in, but the ideas are like my, I don’t know, word children (?) and I’ve had to shoot many of them in the head and throw them into a, i don’t know, word furnace (?)
How do writers do it? I guess you never see the unedited super long version of the book/script/movie. And if you do it’s never normally a good thing.
When it’s finally done, I might go hang out here for like, a week,