American Psycho - Analysis

American Psycho (2000), screenplay by Mary Harron & Guinevere Turner, novel by Bret Easton Ellis

OWEN: Call me. (Hands him a business card)
PRICE: How about Friday?
OWEN: No can do. Got a res at eight-thirty at Dorsia. Great sea urchin ceviche.
There is a stunned silence as he walks away and sits in a corner of the room, ostentatiously studying papers.
CLOSE-UP on Bateman’s face, cold with hatred.
PRICE: (Whispering) Jesus. Dorsia? On a Friday night? How’d he swing that?
McDERMOTT: (Whispering) I think he’s lying.
Bateman takes out his wallet and pulls out a card.
PRICE: (Suddenly enthused) What’s that, a gram?
BATEMAN: New card. What do you think?
McDermott lifts it up and examines the lettering carefully.
McDERMOTT: Whoa. Very nice. Take a look.
He hands it to Van Patten.
BATEMAN: Picked them up from the printers yesterday
VAN PATTEN: Good coloring.
BATEMAN: That’s bone. And the lettering is something called Silian Rail.
McDERMOTT: (Envious) Silian Rail?
VAN PATTEN: It is very cool, Bateman. But that’s nothing.
He pulls a card out of his wallet and slaps it on the table.
VAN PATTEN: Look at this.
They all lean forward to inspect it.
PRICE: That’s really nice.
Bateman clenches his fists beneath the table, trying to control his anxiety.
VAN PATTEN: Eggshell with Romalian type. (Turning to Bateman) What do you think?
BATEMAN: (Barely able to breath, his voice a croak) Nice.
PRICE: (Holding the card up to the light) Jesus. This is really super. How’d a nitwit like you get so tasteful?
Bateman stares at his own card and then enviously at McDermott’s.
BATEMAN: (V.O.) I can’t believe that Price prefers McDermott’s card to mine.
PRICE: But wait. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
He holds up his own card.
PRICE: Raised lettering, pale nimbus white…
BATEMAN: (Choking with anxiety) Impressive. Very nice. Let’s see Paul Owen’s card.
Price pulls a card from an inside coat pocket and holds it up for their inspection: “PAUL OWEN, PIERCE & PIERCE, MERGERS AND ACQUISITIONS.” Bateman swallows, speechless. The sound in the room dies down and all we hear is a faint heartbeat as Bateman stares at the magnificent card.
BATEMAN: (V.O.) Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh my God, it even has a watermark…
His hand shaking, Bateman lifts up the card and stares at it until it fills the screen.
He lets it fall. The SOUND RETURNS TO NORMAL.
CARRUTHERS: Is something wrong? Patrick…you’re sweating.

Bateman (Christian Bale) has a hateful rivalry with Paul Owen (Jared Leto), who outplays him at every turn, even though it’s only ever about appearances (He’s not too fond of anyone else who outplays him as well). The rivalry is prevalent among all these guys. But none can touch Owen with his reservation at Dorsia or his unrivaled business card, especially not Bateman who had to lie about a Dorsia reservation, and whose card is second rate to at least a few others.
This is a classic pivotal scene and inciting incident, which reveals Bateman’s deep inner conflict, torment, personal anxiety, and hatred toward Owen, and serves as the premise of the story (Bateman’s psychosis). This incident sets Bateman off on a killing spree, starting later with taking an axe to Owen to Huey Lewis’ ‘Hip to be Square'”.

       

Posted in daily dialogue |

Leaving Las Vegas: Analysis

Leaving Las Vegas (1995)
John O’Brien (novel)
Mike Figgis (screenplay and director)
with Nicolas Cage and Elizabeth Shue

Scene

INT. RESTAURANT – NIGHT
Ben and Sera are eating. He plays with his food, eating very little of it. Finally he pushes it away and orders another drink.

SERA: I’m from the East. I went to college, did an arts course. I now live in Vegas. I think of it as home. I came here deliberately to carve out a life. I was in LA before, but I’ll come back to that later. (pause) The tough times are behind me now. I can deal with the bad things that happen. There will always be dark characters. But my life is good. It is as I would want it to be. So, why are you a drunk?

BEN: Is that really what you want to ask me?

SERA: Yes.

BEN: (worried) Well, then I guess this is our first date… or our last. Until now, I wasn’t sure it was either.

SERA: Very clever.

Sera thinks for a while and decides to give in to him on this.

SERA: First. It’s our first. I’m just concerned. So… why are you killing yourself?

BEN: Interesting choice of words. I don’t remember. I just know that I want to.

SERA: Want to kill yourself? Are you saying that you’re drinking as a way to kill yourself?

And she leans across the table to be close to him, listening intently. Ben becomes uncomfortable and tries to joke it off.

BEN: Or killing myself as a way to drink.

Sera continues to stare at him, wanting to know the real answer. He takes a slug from his drink. She sits back.

BEN: We’ll talk about it some other time maybe. OK?

Sera relaxes and continues with her food. We hear her thoughts for a moment.

SERA (v.o): It wasn’t so important to me. I mean, he never asked me why I was a hooker, and that was impressive. I really liked him. So I decided to just play my part. I mean… it’s good to help someone once in a while., it’s a bonus to being alive, and that was my plan… to stay alive. I suddenly came to a decision.

Analysis

I love this movie. Cage got an Oscar. Shue was nominated, along with Figgis for screenplay and direction. It’s a classic great with a wonderful bluesy jazz track. It’s one of those rare films where everything comes together.

This scene sticks in my mind, especially the line about how killing himself is a way to drink. That line is very representative of his character. He is always jovial and light about everything, with a few exceptions of rage. But this indicates how he rationalizes and accepts his depression. He’s OK with killing himself. And it seems he doesn’t even know he’s depressed. Or doesn’t admit it. That way he can carry on life as if it’s all very acceptable.

In fact numerous great writers seem to fall into depression and even suicide. And the novel is semi-autobiographical. In writing, if you put your soul into it, it can be reflective and can bring up certain thoughts such as the general futility of life (everything ends). In Hollywood this kind of demise seems even more a rule than an exception. Success is usually short lived. It’s wonderful to face these things through this character.

Birdman or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance (analysis)

**** SPOILERS ****
Here is my take on “The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance”. It is explained and owned by Dickinson (the theatre reviewer character). It’s the title of her review that was so feared by Riggan before she ever wrote it. And it explains Riggan’s dichotomy.

Dickinson defines Riggan as a personification of Hollywood:

….I hate you. And everyone you represent. Entitled. Spoiled. Selfish. Children. Blissfully untrained, unversed and unprepared to even attempt real art. Handing each other awards for cartoons and pornography. Measuring your worth in weekends. Well, this is the theater, and you don’t get to come in here and pretend you can write, direct and act in your own propaganda piece without going through me first.

She’s telling him he is ignorant and she’s thinking he doesn’t even know it (he’s an untrained child). Ignorance becomes a “virtue of ignorance”, but it’s only virtuous when she sees he is actually honest in his performance and direction of the play.

Honesty is a virtue in acting. I think it is the thing that most divides Hollywood/film from theatre. The simplest thing can be honesty. It is possible to transcend both film and theatre as some great actors do. You might not expect that of an untrained, Hollywood comic book character player with no theatre background.

Riggin’s ‘virtue of ignorance’ is his ‘innocence’ (as a beginner on the stage), an unexpected innocence. I would add that the dichotomy between film and theatre is another strong recurring theme and mirrors Riggin’s own inner conflict of Divided Self and Disunity.

As Mike also eludes to it:

Do you have any idea who walked these boards before you? Geraldine Page, Marlon Brando, Helen Hayes, Jason Robards… And now you. Riggan Thomson.

And again later:

….Your stage? This stage belonged to a lot of great actor’s, pal. But you are not one of them.

Perhaps it is the explicit reflection of the implicit film/theatre disunity subtext that we also see personified in Riggan’s conversations with the Hollywood Birdman. If Riggin were to embrace and understand Dickinson’s meanings, he might come to terms with, and conquer his internal disunity. Perhaps her review was a letter to him.

As an aside, the film/theatre theme is carried out in the execution of the film itself. We watch Birdman, a movie shot in the style of theatre, where actors play out scenes in one uncut take as they would on the stage. This is the greatest advantage of the fluid Steadicam, no-cut, no-coverage, continuous take style. I think it should be the norm and not the exception when actors are involved.

Mad Men Ending

Of course Don forsakes human interaction and love for fellow man by selling out to a Coke ad. That is completely in his character and certainly to be expected. No doubt, you along with most everyone was holding out for hope that Don comes to an epiphany, even to the point of suicide, because killing off the proverbial ad man, in his own realization that what he does has no substance except to subvert human growth into tooth decay and obesity (Coke by products), would be the most humane thing we could do for society.

And I liked Don. But he was never better than after he dumped his ad man life. Going back to it is a fate worse than death.

Of course he will ultimately fittingly die of cancer, just as he suffers for his wife at the hands of ad men like himself (they sold and still sell nicotine, yo). No ad men. No smoking. No cancer. And that's what Hollywood is all about. Happy endings at any cost. It makes the execs happy.

But ironically in this case, it exposes the reality of 70's hype that killed what the sixties stood for. And that is why it’s a great ending. It is truth. It is exactly what happens and what did happen. And you call that upbeat? Get cancer and see how upbeat it is.

Moneyball, Written by Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin

The Scott Hatteberg walk off scene.
This is a very typical sports underdog makes good scene, with a winning move at the climax of the movie. What’s interesting with Moneyball is that it’s main premise is that very thing, how overlooked underdogs actually have talent that can make all the difference. There is very little dialogue. Though we see the coach have to coax Hatte out to bat. Hatte isn’t expecting this at all. The build up is great. And in fact, it’s this sudden lack of dialog that makes us pay attention and gives the feeling of suspense and anticipation. Note that in the locker room Billy watches a MUTED TV, adding lack of sound to the lack of dialogue. There is something to be said for silence.

EXT. OAKLAND COLISEUM FIELD – NIGHT – BOTTOM OF THE 9TH 152

The scoreboard shows us that it’s still tied in the bottom of the ninth. Nobody’s out. DYE grabs a bat and walks to the plate. Then, inexplicably, Howe turns to-

ART
Hattie. Grab a bat.

SCOTT HATTEBERG actually points to himself and mouths, Me?

ART
Let’s go.

SCOTT pulls a bat from the rack and heads to the on-deck circle. He only manages a warmup pitch or two before –

INT. WEIGHT ROOM
Billy is watching on a muted television as he sees Dye fly out to right field. As Hatte approaches the plate, he kills the TV.

EXT. OAKLAND COLISEUM – SAME TIME
As ROY STEELE’s booming voice echoes:

VOICE OF GOD
Pinch hitting for Eric Byrnes–Scott
Hatteberg.

Scott’s wife, ELIZABETH, watches from the VIP seats. She clutches her face. SCOTT lets the first pitch go by.

UMPIRE
Ball!

Art Howe looks like he can’t stand it any longer. In the dugout, Koch looks like a psychopath ready to kill.
SCOTT steps out of the box to catch his breath. He steps back in and stares at the exact spot in space he thinks the pitch will leave the pitcher’s hand.

The pitch. SCOTT swings.

Crack! 55,000 erupt. The A’s leap to the front of the dugout steps and watch.

We see the ball ascending on a strong trajectory, but before we can know for sure where it’s headed, TIME SLOWS TO A CRAWL-

INT. WEIGHT ROOM – SAME TIME 155

BILLY’s sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, trying to breathe. He looks like he’s in pain. He can’t move.

He hears the crowd ERUPT outside. His Blackberry buzzes: “hatte homered. a’s 12, ryls 11″
Billy flips on the TV. With sound off, he watches silent images of his team swarming the mound in (archival footage) mixed in with Art Howe celebrating with them.

EXT. OAKLAND COLISEUM – SAME TIME

The place is going crazy. ELIZABETH is screaming as she watches her husband get mauled by his teammates at the plate.

Review: A Serious Man

Originally posted on the Black List

Title: A Serious Man [download a PDF version of the script here].
Year: 2009
Writing Credits: Joel Coen & Ethan Coen
IMDB rating: 7

IMDB plot summary:

Bloomington, Minnesota, 1967: Jewish physics lecturer Larry Gopnik is a serious and a very put-upon man. His daughter is stealing from him to save up for a nose job, his pot-head son, who gets stoned at his own bar-mitzvah, only wants him round to fix the TV aerial and his useless brother Arthur is an unwelcome house guest. But both Arthur and Larry get turfed out into a motel when Larry’s wife Judy, who wants a divorce, moves her lover, Sy, into the house and even after Sy’s death in a car crash they are still there. With lawyers’ bills mounting for his divorce, Arthur’s criminal court appearances and a land feud with a neighbor Larry is tempted to take the bribe offered by a student to give him an illegal exam pass mark. And the rabbis he visits for advice only dole out platitudes. Still God moves in mysterious – and not always pleasant – ways, as Larry and his family will find out.

Tagline: …seriously!

Awards:
Nominated for Oscars for Best Original Screenplay and Best Picture;
Nominated for Golden Globe for Best Actor, Michael Stuhlbarg
Nominated BAFTA Best Screenplay
Won AFI Movie of the Year
Nominated Eddie Best Edited Feature
Nominated Art Directors Guild Excellence in Production Design Award
Won Independent Spirit Award Best Cinematography Roger Deakins
Won Robert Altman Award
Nominated Independent Spirit Award Best Director Ethan & Joel Coen
Nominated WGA Best Original Screenplay
Numerous others

Analysis: What stood out to me immediately was the detailed camera directions in the script, and very much a big part of telling the story. Of course the Coens are director-writer-editors. It makes sense that they might see the film at the script stage in terms of how they intend to direct and cut it. The film is 107 minutes. But the script is 133 pages, which testifies to the added camera direction, despite a page or two of cuts at most. I looked at two other Coen scripts and saw a similar treatment at the beginning of Fargo and Raising Arizona. But A Serious Man is a bit more so. I think there is a tendency among novice filmmakers to write this way until they are corrected to leave that detail to the director, even if it’s themselves. But this is not generally recommended. They also ignore conventions like INT. or EXT. in the scene heading. Instead they just put the location there. They do not place the character name line when the same character speaks with action lines between. It makes for easier reading.

I watched the film after reading the script. Though I had seen it before. But I didn’t notice much difference from the script, except stuff that was cut. It’s impressive that the script is pretty much exactly what the film is. The theory on making movies is that there are three versions, the script, the one you direct and produce, and the one you edit. Not so with the Coens. What they write is what the final product is.

It’s been said that film has a long way to go, that the best films are yet to be made. I like to compare film to music, which has been around since the classics, about 400 years. I like to think that film could be more like a classical composition with the various instruments, melody, bass, rhythm and so on, analogous to image, sound, dialog, effects and so on. Could film be done more harmoniously as music is? The Coens seem to approach this concept, especially considering their script as the composition, is strictly adhered to as a musical composition is. The idea that the writer(s) control everything from image, to effects, to music. to dialog, in the script, the direction and the editing; makes this kind of harmony more likely than relegating these things to separate people, or at separate stages.

The theme of A Serious Man is quirky and magical for me; about the futility of being concerned over things in your life you cannot control. The setting is a period 60s Jewish community. The characters are both religious and irreverent, and perhaps naturally hypocritical. They are all either shallow or self centered. This reflects on the protagonist as someone who isn’t really close to anyone, considering everyone is seen through his perspective. The film even seems to say that irreverence is a part of life and a part of Judaism, at least among lay people. In this way it pokes fun at being serious or at taking religion literally. And this is the dilemma of the protagonist who wants desperately to understand things in his life that affect him and that he can’t control, and who looks to his religion for answers.

The protagonist goes through nearly all of the film with no real arc or change. He is simply put upon by his family and people around him. He mostly accepts his fate and everything his wife tells him to do. He is pushed around. Yet at one point he decides to take a stand. But this has absolutely no effect, which makes him even more frustrated. He looks to Rabbis as mentors. Externally they appear more as tricksters who tell him there is no answer. Yet internally they are telling him not to be concerned over such things. By the end he does arc ever so subtly. He accepts that he cannot understand these things and must move on.

The film is very unusual and original in having a passive protagonist and no real dramatic overcoming of an obstacle. It’s all very subtle and even easy to completely miss. I think this is why the film is misunderstood, underrated and even considered a failure by people who are used to being lead by the hand through a more conventional traditionally structured story, with a strong arc or strong climax. On the other hand, if you can accept the originality, it’s a film that makes you really think.

In this clip the protagonist sees the junior Rabbi, who talks about the inner world or the expression of Hashem (translated as the Name or God) in the world, as opposed to seeing Hashem as externally living only in shul (the synagogue). I see this as a parallel to inner world and outer world of the protagonist, and his inability to reconcile them. By the way, this script sent me to the dictionary. Though the word meanings are apparent in context.

The Jefferson Airplane song ‘Somebody to Love’ is used as a device in the film and echoes the theme with the line ‘When the truth is found to be lies, and all the hope with in you dies…’ You could even say the entire film concept stems from that line. It’s a simple genius. Another rule the Coens break is to explicitly use known songs in the script.

Most Memorable Moments: The second Rabbi tells Larry the story of a man with inscriptions in his teeth, that turn out to be meaningless. Larry doesn’t understand the point of why he was told the story. And the Rabbi basically responds that here is no point. That’s the point. It is wonderfully comedic. This also echoes encounters with others characters.

Larry: So what did you tell him?
The rabbi seems surprised by the question.
Rabbi Nachtner: Sussman?
Larry: Yes!
Rabbi Nachtner: Is it. . . relevant?
Larry: Well—isn’t that why you’re telling me?
Rabbi Nachtner: Mm. Okay. Nachtner says, look. . .
The consultation scene again, with the rabbi once again narrating in voice-over. He silently advises the fretful Sussman in sync with his recounting of the same.
. . .
Rabbi Nachtner: The teeth, we don’t know. A sign from hashem, don’t know. Helping others, couldn’t hurt.
Back to the rabbi’s office in present. Larry struggles to make sense of the story.
Larry: But—was it for him, for Sussman? Or—
Rabbi Nachtner: We can’t know everything.
Larry: It sounds like you don’t know anything! Why even tell me the story?
Rabbi Nachtner: (amused) First I should tell you, then I shouldn’t.
Larry, exasperated, changes tack:
Larry: What happened to Sussman?
Sussman, back in his office, works on different patients as the rabbi resumes the narrative in voice-over.
Rabbi Nachtner: What would happen? Not much. He went back to work. For a while he checked every patient’s teeth for new messages; didn’t see any; in time, he found he’d stopped checking. He returned to life.
Sussman, at home, chats with his wife over dinner.
Rabbi Nachtner:. . . These questions that are bothering you, Larry—maybe they’re like a Toothache. We feel them for a while, Then they go away.
Sussman lies in bed sleeping, smiling, an arm thrown across his wife.
Back in the rabbi’s office, Larry is dissatisfied.
Larry: I don’t want it to just go away! I want an answer!
Rabbi Nachtner: The answer! Sure! We all want the answer! But Hashem doesn’t owe us the answer, Larry. Hashem doesn’t owe us anything. The obligation runs the other way.
Larry: Why does he make us feel the questions if he’s not going to give us any answers?
Rabbi Nachtner smiles at Larry.
Rabbi Nachtner: He hasn’t told me.
Larry rubs his face, frustrated.

 Most Memorable Dialogue: The last and elder Rabbi, Marshak, at the end talks to the Bar mitzvah boy, Danny, and returns the transistor radio confiscated from him by his teacher.

Finally:
Marshak: When the truth is found. To be lies.
He pauses. He clears his throat.
At length:
Marshak:. . . And all the hope. Within you dies.
Another beat. Danny waits. Marshak stares.
He smacks his lips again. He thinks.
Marshak:. . . Then what?
Danny doesn’t answer. It is unclear whether answer is expected.
Marshak clears his throat with a loud and thorough hawking.
The hawking abates. Marshak sniffs.
Marshak:. . . Grace Slick. Marty Balin. Paul Kanta. Jorma. . . somethin. These are the membas of the Airplane.
He nods a couple of times.
Marshak:. . . Interesting.
He reaches up and slowly opens his desk drawer. He withdraws something. He lays it on the bare desk and pushes it across.
Marshak:. . . Here.
It is Danny’s radio.
Marshak:. . . Be a good boy.

What Did I Learn About Screenwriting From Reading This Script: I learned that camera direction can be very useful and can help to visualize the story cinematically. One criticism I’ve heard about some screenplays is that they aren’t cinematic enough. I think screenwriters have to be conscious of this, and able to picture the script on the screen. Reading this script is like watching a film.

I learned that there is something very beautiful in simplicity. Something like a phrase from a song you love, or even the basic theme of a bible story (like the story of Job), can inspire a cool movie.
I learned that ambiguity and subtlety can make the audience think and make a film much more interactive that way. Those are the kinds of films I tend to like the most. The idea that some people can get something out of it, while others may not, gives the film a controversial reaction and starts a conversation.

Finally, don’t be afraid to break rules and conventions. You just might invent something very original.

The Canyons: A Cool 60s Grindhouse Thowback Mirror of Hollywood

It doesn't take place in the 60s. It's modern day. But the style of the film is totally retro. It's grindhouse. I'd love to hear Tarantino's take on it. And if he hates it, I still love it.  We see Deen's character arc from bad to worse. And Lindsay's from scared to petrified. We see a world of people who live for money.  There is back stabbing, cruelty, cheating, and perversion. Yet there is love and romance amidst it all. But in the end the bad stuff extinguishes the good. This is true Hollywood with a true real Hollywood end. It's not the fairy tale people want to be lulled into complacency by.

And the music is great. Son of Perdition (featuring Rob James) sounds like a 60s Lee Hazelwood. The rest of Brendan Canning & me&john's soundtrack is great and hits that undercurrent of decayed Hollywood theaters, and decayed Hollywood people; topped of with classic Dum Dum Girls' Coming Down.

Yes, there are technical flaws, maybe. Or maybe it's just a casual style. There's stuff that an experienced contemporary filmmaker would look at and say, it's terrible, it's amateur. But is it really flawed or is it just that the viewer is so accustomed to homogenized perfect Barbie world tripe?  And that's part of the nostalgia. 60's films were like that; grungy, less than perfect. People didn't care. They just wanted to see the film, or maybe take their sex-mate to a drive in and get it on . And when was the last time a major Hollywood film was actually X rated? Today's world is so conservatively annal retentive about being political, fashionably, and financially perfect.

When I watch this movie I look past all that perfection crap and I look at the meat of the matter, and I'm not talking about James Deen's wad or Lindsay's naked breasts. I'm talking about the story and the quality of the basic cinematic story aspects. Get past where you think the lighting isn't right, or there's something distracting in the background. That kind of critical thinking is based on what you expect a  movie to be. It's a perception,  based on media hype about what a film should look like. But that definition of is only technical excellence. You may like the Hangover series. They are technically perfect. I think they suck ass. The Canyons is an unusual film about the decay of Hollywood. Not just the physical decay of abandoned movie theaters.  But the decay of the people who make films who stoop to personal fulfillment over some kind of selfless contribution to film (In case you're from Hollywood, selfless means you don't care about your self, over some kind of greater good).

I think the plethora of critics coming out in droves with hate and disdain for this movie, actually fear what they see in the mirror. Do any of them find anything good to say? Obviously none of them were brought up to stay silent unless you have something nice to say to people (neither was I). And that's why this movie is their mirror. If you believe something is bad and you tell others it's bad, then it's perceived as bad.

The Poker House: This film is amazing

I caught the world premier tonight at the LA Film Festival. Not a dry eye in the house. The audience went nuts. Standing ovation. It has a hard hitting ending that actually hits home in the credits, similar to how No Country for Old Men did but this one doesn't leave you guessing. It just leaves you in tears. What an incredible cast. But I'd have to say the real star of this film is the director, Lori Petty.

I do think it will be hard to sell. I predict it will go to DVD as do most festival features. It's a shame because this film deserves a theatrical release. Like I expected, the woman's perspective from writer-director Lori Petty is so original and refreshing.

The big problem with distribution is the same thing that makes this a great film, it's subject matter; that being the story of three young girls growing up in a poker house with a hooker mother and an abusive pimp along with their seedy associates. People don't want to hear that films like this are playing at the cineplex. They don't want to know what really goes on in America.

I was discussing this film with someone who mentioned Memoirs of a Geisha in comparison, which got me to thinking about how Geishas are highly respected and trained as in a profession. But in the US people in this business deal with drugs, guns, pimps and violence. It's one of the most outrageous saddest state of affairs that plague American society, and the reason is because it is illegal in most every state, forcing it into the hands of underworld unscrupulous characters.