Lesson From Charles Brackett

I’m reading the journal entries of one of my favorite screenwriters, Charles Brackett. He was the writing partner of Billy Wilder on classics as “The Lost Weekend” & “Sunset Boulevard.” What struck me, as a man whose writing would have you believe is a high society intellectual actually seems to be like the rest of us. Babbling, angry, unappreciated douchbags. And that makes me really happy to know. What is also very intriguing is, while writing was their occupation (working for Ernst Lubitsch) the amount of back and forth he battled with in terms of getting a scene “perfect.” They spent days on a single scene. They spent weeks on a certain piece of dialogue. Writing is hard work. They whipped up on a story to within an inch of its life. Then hit it some more. That’s when they started to read it aloud. And then more changes were made as they shot it. Lubitsch, a perfectionist to a tortuous degree. Granted, they knew the movie was going to be made, but if you think about if your own movies were going to be made, the time spent may be a great exercise in what it really takes to break into the business. Keep in mind we’re also talking about the year 1936. When you didn’t have the resources of someone breaking down the structure of a story for you in template form to ape.

A lesson to be learned here.

I’ve always had it in my head that people in the past probably spoke with greater class. This is proven to be not true. It’s probably more likely they spoke less, unless it was in diary form. Relating to other “celebrities” in his immediate circles as drunken bores or idiots, Brackett strikes me as a snob who has the working class mentality of blowing off steam. Which amounts to partying with models and getting drunk while regaling guests with stories of how George Cukor got his “Little Women” actresses to give him the performance he wanted by screaming at them (supposedly) “Will you four whores try to pretend that there’s some cocaine in that dish and act as though you really wanted it?” Hahaha. It’s too specific not to be true.

I don’t mind salacious stories that paint these people as…human. In fact, it almost binds you closer because they are so crass. Or that it affirms your belief that not much changes in society, besides wardrobe and hairdos. The rest of us behave relatively the same. Whoever and wherever you are. That’s who we are.

It got me thinking about the core of who we are. As I believe there’s very little to be learned after a certain level, most people fine tune what they already know. Steven Spielberg, for instance, tells the same type of story over and over again. He knows how to tell a specific story (even as the genre changes) his overall tone is him. That’s what he is essentially hired for. I think people need to know their niche.

I’ve written this before, but too many people want to do too many things Fuck, I love making all types of movies. For the time being, I can spend my own money figuring what that is. I don’t like the idea of putting everything into one pit. But, the balance is not giving up after a first attempt either.

And that’s a lesson too. Sometimes we don’t end up doing what we want to do in life, but we often times stumble into what we end up doing. For instance, I may not be a romantic comedy filmmaker, but what if I’m better at mysteries? That’s cool. Better to discover that and go with it, then to pound my head on a nail for decades before realizing it’s not a bad way to go. Many people are steadfast (stubborn) in what the world may be guiding them towards. I’ll be the first to admit, I lost a ton of projects because I made more excuses as to how I couldn’t do the project rather than figuring out how I was going to do the project. In that sense, I’ve already defeated myself. I’m sure Charles Brackett started out, as most writers of his generation, writing the great American novel. But even novelist like F. Scott Fitzgerald fizzled out of Hollywood. His niche was elsewhere. I think the old guard calls this “following your muse.” I personally fight this battle a lot. Not because I know why I fight it, but because I don’t know why I want to do something. This attacks the very joy of spontaneity. It kills the drive to make anything. Because it’s scary. The unknown is scary. And scary isn’t bad. I will reiterate this as much as I can (to convince myself, even). “If you’re not scared doing something, it isn’t worth doing.” Putting your ass (um..heart) on the line for something you feel passionate about isn’t easy. Suppose we’re suppose to ignore the harsh criticism. Or the shitty patronizing people that are dumb and clueless to the plight. The goal is to keep your head down, ignore these idiots and keep moving forward. The people who mock you, are on the sideline and not in the race. This is to be pitied.