Sunday, 3 July 2011

I want some Bill Murray in my life

Or at least in a hypothetical production of my new screenplay.

Ever since finding out that one of our projects next year can be a feature-length screenplay, and that we don't have to go through to ache of attempting to produce it, I've been attempting to give it a go. I've never written a feature-length, I've attempted it before but become too easily distracted by another, "better" concept – as always. I still have a lack of faith in the strength of any concept or plot I come up with by myself, but I have a vague idea that seems to be coming together as I attempt to run with it.

My desire is to produce a sort of 'whimsical misery' (as a friend of mine put it). As most of the writing that interests me is very raw, stripped back drama, it can often be very depressing, and that's what I'm often prone to coming out with – depressing material. But looking towards the sort of dramatic comedy that interests me, thanks to my recent, growing affection for Wes Anderson films, I've realised that, rather than sad films with funny lines and a warm heart (such as 'Little Miss Sunshine'), humorous films with a sad, dramatic core can be much more touching and relatable. I'm also interested in the (much criticised) on-the-nose, deadpan or obscure humour and behaviour that plagues such films.

I've spent a lot of my recent time watching around Wes Anderson and his footprints in film (which is maybe something I shouldn't admit, in case of any coincidental similarities in my writing to his, especially as I've found myself imagining Anderson's signature actor, Bill Murray, delivering the lines of one of my characters).

The in-progress draft of my script is about the relationship between a father and son, and how the father's advice has unwittingly obscured the son's view of his surroundings. When the son is thrust into the spotlight of popularity at school, he tries his best to devise a way to reverse this status.

The actions and behaviours of each character are backed up by their surrounding environments that react metaphorically to the events. This is most prominent with the house that they live in, which is just as dysfunctional as the family themselves.


Not that I see this script-writing as any more than an exercise, I'm struggling to think of a name and a face that would be able to deliver these lines as well as a (younger) Murray, without sounding morbid:

FATHER (CONT'D)
Your mother's in love with a dead person, you just need to give her some time.

TIMOTHY
Are you ok?

FATHER
I'm a little bit lonely and sad.


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