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Cinema with substance: screenwriting, film classics, European, Asian, African, Hollywood, short films

Why are there so many bad movies?

The secret to selling a screenplay is the same as publishing a novel, a memoir, or any form of popular art: write something really great! Something fantastic! Something with integrity!

This advice was reiterated at the first meeting of the Heart of Illinois Screenwriters’ Troupe I attended in December. At one point I raised my hand to ask what sounds like a smartass question, but one to which I needed an answer: “Then where do all the terrible movies come from?”

The secret to selling a screenplay is the same as publishing a novel, a memoir, or any form of popular art: write something really great. Something fantastic, something with integrity, something that people want. This advice was reiterated at the first meeting of the Heart of Illinois Screenwriters’ Troupe I attended in December. At one point I raised my hand to ask what sounds like a smartass question, but one to which I needed an answer: “Then where do all the terrible movies come from?”

The answer was that most screenplays undergo some pretty hefty revision once they become studio property. By the time a script moves from the sale to the screen—if it ever gets there at all—any number of people may have hade a chance to “work” on it, adding,  cutting and rearranging until the finished product bears very little resemblance to the original. Did this answer my question? Well, yes and no. I appreciated the realistic insight into the world of big-industry entertainment and marketing, yet this still didn’t quite to seem to explain it. Try as I might, I can’t bring myself to believe that Children of the Corn III was once a brilliant script that got ruined by a mishmash of commercial and artistic visions.

 It’s true, of course, that too many cooks can spoil even the tastiest soup. The Writers Guild of America, the ultimate authority that determines who gets the screenwriting credit for every film produced, does its best to limit the number cooks in the kitchen: “Only three writers may be credited for the screenplay if they collaborated, and a maximum of three teams of three may be credited no matter how many actually worked on it. For example, Lethal Weapon 4 (1998) had about a dozen writers, as did Hulk (2003). The film adaptation of The Flintstones (1994) supposedly had over sixty writers.” And what glorious fruit they bore.

Hey! None of that! One of the cardinal rules of writing—of pretty much any endeavor—is this: success is not to be sneered at. Every published manuscript or produced screenplay can offer me a lesson about industry, perseverance, or even craft, and I can learn from them if I choose. But a walk through the racks of any video store can be as disheartening as a stroll through the shelves of bestsellers (or remainders) at Barnes and Noble. It’s hard to keep this philosophy in my wide-open mind as I stare at the boxes for Anacondas: The Hunt For The Blood Orchid, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, Dracula 3000 and Million Dollar Baby. (Yep, I said it.) Did these writers indeed write “the best damn screenplay they knew how,” making it “as good as it could possibly be” before cashing their six- or seven-figure checks? “Don’t sneer at success, don’t sneer at success,” I repeat to myself. Judging from the looks I get from the people near me, it appears I’ve been muttering it out loud.

 At the same time, it’s encouraging, in a way. If The Bad News Bears Go to Japan can make it to production, maybe there’s hope for my little comedy after all. But I know the answer to that, too: the “make it the best you can” rule applies primarily to those of us trying to break into the business. We’re not going to break in with mediocrity, or even stuff that’s good. It’s got to be great. And so, just for luck (and inspiration) I tip my mental hat to the “classics” section as I leave the store, on my way back home and back to work.