Stuch and Bruch is the idea that every fencing technique has a counter and every counter has a technique. Technique and counter are two major components of German swordsmanship and a fair description of my screenwriting adventures and life.
The floodgates are closed. The Nicholl application deadline is now a thing of the past and I am curious how many entries there are. Since I"m sure it is a ridiculously high number in the 7000-ish range, I have long since given up any hope of winning the thing. I would, however, like to advance before I die. It's at the top of my screenwriting bucket list, a list that is rather short and contains goals that are unlikely in my real world. But in my sometimes delusional and often contrived reality, I would like to ---
Advance in the Nicholl at least once.
Attend a big Hollywood premier and sit in the audience.
Watch an epic beast of a film get shot.
Hear one of my favorite screenwriters say about my work, "what a great story".
If I reach those goals, I have a secondary list.
See my own film get made.
If I reach THAT goal, I do have yet another list.
Witness a great actor begging on his hands and knees to portray my character.
Author a screenplay that gets caught up in a bidding war.
Receive a phone call from Hans Zimmer or James Horner saying he just finished my score.
Once I'm dead, there is still one more list.
Be remembered by my children as somebody who left a positive footprint on this earth.
You know what? I think my last goal may actually be the only one that really matters. After all, we only have one life, one earth, and two feet. But yeah, I'm one of those 7000-ish. I don't really believe in luck but best of luck anyway to all my fellow screenwriting buddies who entered!
Let me be plain. Posting this video is not a criticism of Eric Roth on my part. It's a funny observation and it makes a point. Artists have signatures. Even writers.
When my son and I went to see Legend of Zorro, I knew Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman had the screenplay credit and Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio received story credit. Still, I was expecting to see T&T's fingerprints all over the film.
I didn't.
First act came and went. Hmm. Nothing struck me as T&T's work.
Second act. Odd. Nothing stood out there either.
Finally, toward the end of the film, there's a horse on a train. A horse on train! Now, THAT is something T&T would write!
As soon as I got home, I emailed Terry and told him the film just didn't feel like something he'd touched except for the horse on the train. Terry replied that he hadn't seen the film but had recently received his obligatory copy of the screenplay and flipped through it. He really didn't see anything of his own except -- you guessed it -- the horse on the train.
You see, once you get to know an artist's work, it's relatively simple to feel the familiarity. You'd be surprised how much Pirates of the Caribbean has in common with Mask of Zorro and Shrek and Road to El Dorado or how much National Treasure has in common with Aladdin. They all have the same writers' fingerprints.
James Horner, one of my all time favorite film score composers, almost always uses some kind of haunting oboe solo in his soundtracks. You wouldn't think Cocoon and An American Tale would be similar enough films to have common denominators in the soundtracks. They aren't. But, they do. Danny Elfman has a genius for weaving darkness with whimsy. That's his signature. Just listen to Nightmare Before Christmas, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Batman, and the theme from the Simpsons. The similarity is there even though the music is decidedly different.
Producers have signatures, too. Is there any mistaking Ridley Scott's herky jerky camera-on-a-tether ball scene transitions?
So yeah, filmmakers have signatures. Now watch this -- good stuff.
