Author: Rob

We’ve got plenty of movies about superheroes and cops tracking down serial killers. We need more good movies about writing. Here are my top picks (and why)  plus a few runners-up.

Wonder Boys

Wonder Boys is one of my favorite movies. Based on the book by Michael Chabon, Michael Douglas stars as a college professor who can’t seem to bring himself to finish writing a massive manuscript. (The manuscript is called Wonder Boys, too, by the way.)

There are a lot of fun moments in that movie and Toby Maguire is cast perfectly as the weird and aspiring young writer, James Leer.  There’s a great scene where three drunk writers make up fictional histories of fellow bar patrons. I do that, too (the making up part, not the drunk part.) Great characters and intrigue are everywhere.

Reading Wonder Boys, I find the interiority of the main character is interesting in its depth. There’s plenty to admire in Chabon’s imaginative use of language. In one scene, students stand by an open door blowing “bored clouds” of cigarette smoke. I found myself wondering how many editors would cross out that line and sneer in the margin: “bored clouds? Really?” (Typical editors, not all editors. In context, it’s a great line.) 

If a book description includes the phrase, “beautiful language” I’m usually suspect that it will be a literary novel in which nothing much will actually happen. When critics of old felt they had to give a pulp writer any credit, they’d grudgingly observe that the prose was “muscular” or “workmanlike.” (They often used to say sort of thing about Stephen King and Dashiell Hammett.) From the mouths of snobs, they damned fun books and good writing with faint praise. Readers ate it up and couldn’t wait for more. In Wonder Boys, Chabon finds the middle ground. The use of language is often innovative but the guy can paint a picture and there’s lots of fun and hijinx going on.

I love the line about James Leer’s second-hand smelly overcoat. I’m going from memory but it goes something like, “Standing nearby you could feel your luck change for the worse.” Beautiful.

I won’t spoil what happens with Professor Grady’s overlong manuscript but it’s memorable if you love books at all.

Finding Forrester

Sean Connery plays the successful recluse whose novel hit huge (like To Kill a Mockingbird huge). He mentors Jamal Wallace, a young writer with promise played by Rob Brown. The student is ready, the master appears. The apprentice writer finds the old man has critiqued his work savagely, exing out page after page in red ink. Jamal has talent and his prose is visceral but needs refinement. 

That’s not the moment that really sticks with me, though. What resonates is a moment when the young man walks home at night past a burning car. Cops slide past in a cruiser, giving Jamal the evil eye. It could have been a throwaway scene but it’s not. Jamal is intelligent, observant and vulnerable.  That one short scene is a nod from the director that connotes: yes, he’s young but his experience of the world is complicated, painful and worthy of being written.

I never had to walk home past a burning car but that hit me hard. In my twenties, I worked in Toronto’s book publishing industry. I was part of an army of underpaid professionals filling editorial positions and working in the sales force.

We were young, often underestimated, underappreciated and sometimes even belittled. I met smart people in that profession but the smart ones weren’t all in charge. The industry valued us only as cheap labor. In one job interview, my prospective boss told me I wouldn’t get to have an opinion for seven to ten years. I told him I may as well go to med school because they’d let me perform cardiothoracic surgery faster than that.

In Finding Forrester, it was nice to see a movie that didn’t undercut the young simply because they’re young. I had lots to say back then but unfortunately, I believed I had to wait. If you’re a writer, don’t wait. Gather experience. Read more. Write now.

As Sean would say, “Punch the keys!”

Runners-up

There are several runners-up for my top three. Throw Mama from the Train stands out, especially when Mama comes up with the crucial word (“sultry”). That’s the moment Billy Crystal, playing the writer frustrated and blocked, decides he’s willing to murder her.

In Bullets Over Broadway, the struggling playwright played by John Cusack gives up. He announces, “I am not a writer!”

It’s devastating. As Cusack walks off-screen into The Future of Abandoned Dreams,  I thought, No! Don’t give up! I was a child when I saw that but I wanted to be a writer. I took his failure personally.

Adaptation is pretty great. Nicholas Cage plays twins with an appropriate level of weirdness. The portrayal of Robert McKee is spot on. Playing the famous writing teacher, Brian Cox gives a blistering speech in which he eschews the notion that a plot point is unbelievable. That’s worth the price of admission. It’s also fun to watch the writer who insisted on no car chases ends up writing about a car chase.

Misery is a good movie but I prefer the book. I read it in fascination because most of the action takes place in one room. King keeps it going and flowing. In several of my books about global apocalyptic conflict, the settings are quite expansive, more like the structure of The Stand. (As in, “Meanwhile in Jakarta…) By comparison, watching Stephen King keep a whole novel to one claustrophobic space is almost a stunt.

I don’t think Barton Fink is a great movie. However, John Goodman screaming, “I’ll show you the life of the mind!” Gold.

Those are the runners-up but the bronze medal goes to…

Stranger Than Fiction

Stranger Than Fiction was good for me in part because of the great character work by Will Ferrell. However, it’s Emma Thompson standing on the desk that makes it for me. She’s imagining stepping out on a ledge and looking down, figuring out what it would be like to feel the wind between her fingers before she leaps to her death.

We don’t have to experience everything nasty in order to write about it. I forget who said that by the time we’ve gone through high school we’ve experienced enough trauma to write for the rest of our lives. Writers observe and imagine. We put ideas through the brain blender, bake it up and, if done well, the fiction souffle rises.

Imagination allows me to write crime thrillers packed with murders. I have rage. I am vindictive. Still, I keep it to the page. Somehow I’ve avoided killing anyone in real life just for the sake of experimentation. The truth is, I think about murdering people in imaginative ways quite a lot. I mean, a lot.

Writing novels allows me to make an acceptable living of which my family disapproves. It’s also a healthy and entertaining outlet. I never have to taste prison coffee.

What are your favorite movies about writing? Tell me.

BONUS

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