Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Dog Tags

While in NYC I did a research trip to the U.S.S. Intrepid and while I was there I got a set of dog tags made for the main character in the film, Owen Weir. For the next few days I wore the tags around town, and I realized that they were starting to effect me in a strange way. Wearing a hunk of metal around your neck and another one laced into your shoe to I.D. your body after parts of it have gone missing starts to seep into your dreams. It changes the way you think about your body. The nice Hispanic girl who typed Weir's name into the the metal told me that if I died in combat they'd shove the tag inside the mouth of my corpse for easy identification. Dealing in bodies and death seems a strange way to live.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

"Good thing you didn’t bust my ATV, or I’d have to eat your gonads."

Feeling burnt out from the "Anniversary Present," shoot, I decided to take a week off in New York City. Before leaving town I frantically mailed off a dozen scripts to readers and a couple of producers, but little did I know, my screenwriting software garbled the bottom couple of lines of about thirty of the script's pages. I sent out an email to try to give the readers the missing ends of sentences. My friend Missy pointed out that this document was actually pretty funny on it's own, so I've decided to share these randomized choice quotes with y'all:

Page 7: CAPTAIN VASQUEZ: We gotta talk.

Page 8: There’s a Huey waiting to take you to a flight due out of Riyadh at 1800.

Page 17: How can you still live in this shithole, Bruce?

Page 21: ENTIRE PLATOON:You’re right!

Page 24: Owen sits in the driveway in Darrel’s brown, busted up Ford pickup truck. He puts the key in the ignition.

Page 37: BRUCE (slurring badly); I get it.

Page 57: The Camouflaged Figure stabs at the body repeatedly with his ka-bar knife.
Owen watches.

Page 58: BRUCE (CONT’D): Good thing you didn’t bust my ATV, or I’d have to eat your gonads.

Page 66: Do you remember a patient, Darrel Weir?

Page 68: Owen sits alone eating a greasy burger watching the people across from him.

Page 72: You wouldn’t want me to drink it all at once would ya?

Page 73: BRUCE (CONT’D): We don’t know who it was yet, cause buddy was wearing a mask.

Page 76: Owen, 17, walks around the house to a blacked out window in the back yard.

Page 77: She doesn’t want her daughter to associate herself with Owen.

Page 79: Sergeant Anderson sits across from him smoking Shisha from a large Hookah.

Page 81: DARREL: You sound like you’re reading from a script.

Page 86: Owen picks up the clicker and scans the channels to a news segment showing green anti-aircraft fire lighting up the Bagdad skyline.

Page 94: BRUCE: What do you know? Mr. world traveller? Mr. Fucking hard-core?

Page 100: He presses down on the gas and gets back up to highway speed.

Page 102: DARREL: Do you really want to go back?

Page 103: OWEN: I don’t know.

Page 104: BELINDA: I told you, no Owen.

Page 108: Owen looks out at the water and the classical North American vista as he crosses the bridge.

Page 115: On the television, President George Bush is in the process of making an Oval Office address: This is a victory for all mankind, for the rule of law and for what is right.

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Writing While Sleeping

Last night I tossed and turned as vivid images filled my head. When I woke up I had the entire first act of my newest screenplay figured out (temp titled "White Man"). I've been mulling over how to open the film for months and haven't come up with anything which really makes the thing work.

The more I thought about it today, the more I realized that many of my favorite moments in my screenplays have occurred to me either while I'm sleeping, under the influence, completely spaced out or while daydreaming. That's not to say that I don't need to then write these inspirations down and make them work over month, and even year long periods. And I have certainly had the experience of dreaming what seemed like amazing stories, that while I'm asleep seem like the best thing since the invention of nuclear power, but when I wake up, reek of insanity or worse inanity. It just seems interesting that thinking about a thing rarely gets you where you need to go, whereas relaxing and just letting it eventually flow into you almost always brings you something interesting. I guess I should spend more time sleeping.