Five Question Interview: "Going The Distance" Screenwriter GEOFF LATULIPPE

A few weeks ago I wrote about the film 'Going The Distance' in my article 'The Moment You Connect'. Teri, over at the Year 31 Blog, sent the post to the film's screenwriter Geoff LaTullippe via his Twitter account. Then Geoff left a lovely comment on my blog. After that, it was Christmas; and Geoff didn't get me a present. I soon forgave him and decided to interview him about 'Going The Distance', to find out a little more about its journey from script to screen. Here is a picture of Geoff dressed as a Banana, followed by the interview. 

How many drafts did you write of 'Going The Distance', and how long did it take in total?

The first draft of the script was written in three days; however, those three days were spread out over a period of about six months.  I was writing the script on spec based on some ideas that I had and the experiences of my good friend (and GTD exec) Dave Neustadter.  At one point I wrote about 30 pages, then stopped; a month or so later I wrote another 30 pages, then stopped.  And then came the writer's strike, and even though I wasn't a WGA member yet, I decided to curb writing until it was over.  In July 2008 I wrote the last 60 pages all in one night.  I sent that to Dave, we did some serious rewriting the next weekend, and then we turned it into New Line that Monday.  It sold that Wednesday.

When we got into actual studio rewrites, I'd say we handed in about 20 drafts overall, though many were for minor tweaks.  And then I tinkered with it at various times the whole way through production.  At one point the director brought in a writing team to do some rewrites as well, though I'm not sure how many drafts they actually did.

Did the script have an easy or difficult journey from script to screen?

Well, let's get this out of the way: there's never been a script written that's had an "easy" journey to the screen.  Especially when you're working on a film for a studio, there are seemingly a billion moving parts that all have to click within a very tiny window, and seeing that process up close and behind the curtain...I can't believe anything ever gets made.  I think it all comes down to luck.  Fucking luck and hard work and a willingness to be a total asshole on occasion to push things through.

Now, that in mind...on a comparative scale of 1-10, 1 being the easiest it's ever been to get a movie made and 10 being the hardest, I'd guess this was about a 3.  We definitely had our arguments and battles and moments where it was like, "Oh yeah, this is falling apart," but we also had a group of people - and I know how cloying this sounds, but trust me - who really believed in the movie and wanted to see it happen.  And I think that's what won out at the end of the day.  We went from script sale to shooting in just a shade under a calendar year.  That's almost unheard of.  I know it'll never happen again to me, and that makes me curl up in a ball and cry in the corner.  It's all uphill from here, goddamnit.

When you were writing, did you really believe someone like Drew Barrymore would be saying your words? And when it finally happened, how was that experience?

Not in a million years.  Even though the project moved pretty quickly, until we got a greenlight (after Drew and Justin had attached to the project) I never thought it would get made at all.  It's just not something that's possible to fathom.  In fact - and I'm not at all joking - it still doesn't seem real.

The first time I saw the movie I thought I was going to have a joy aneurysm. It was cool to see the actors play out the things I'd written, but it was even better to see them ad-lib into things that I might never have thought of.

Since the film came out, up until now, have you had more opportunities come your way?

Absolutely.  Even though the movie bombed, I'm still really proud of it, and for the most part people seem to like it.  So that doesn't hurt.  And I was lucky enough to get a good buzz off the script well before it ever went into production.  I sold another idea just a few weeks after I hired my agent and manager, and the ball just kept rolling from there.  I've lucked into so many great opportunities that it spins my head, and even the ones that didn't quite pan out can lead to something on down the road.  The goal now is just to try to keep doing the best work I can possibly do and make myself indispensable so this can be my job for the long haul.

'Going The Distance' had a big beating heart all the way through it, a quality which is so often marginalized by American films, or simplified into cheesiness, how did this film manage to escape that?

First of all, thanks.  That's one thing I never get tired of hearing and the thing about the film that I'm most proud of.

One of the things that Dave and I were dead-set on from the start was wanting to make this real.  The joke he makes now is that, "People pay you to write like we talk."  Which is 100% true.  My theory is that even if someone doesn't live a life similar to yours, they at least know someone like you.  And when you're watching an observational comedy, THAT'S what you want to see - the experience you want to have is one of parallel.  You want to be watching that movie saying, "YES! That's EXACTLY what it's like for me," or, "Oh HELL yes, I know THAT guy!"

The trick to achieving this is balance, and the key to that for me is hitting a chord of universality without being broad.  I think "heart"comes from a combination of shared experience and someone being able to say something that you weren't ever quite able to put words to.  And that's my job as a writer - expressing the things the audience wants to express but, for one reason or another, can't or hasn't been able to yet. It's almost like putting someone in front of a dirty mirror; I'm the guy that wipes off the grime.

And the only way I know how to do that is from personal experience.  I take the things that have happened to me in my life and either use them exactly or borrow wholesale.  Everyone's had that experience of walking away from an argument or a fight or a long conversation or whatever and later thinking to themselves, "OH JESUS CHRIST I SHOULD HAVE SAID THAT."  The greatest thing about being a writer is that I get to say "THAT" the first time.  But you never want to go too far with that - a movie has to imitate life, but not seem exactly like real life and not seem like a movie.  It's a tightrope walk.  And when you fake it it generally sucks.  So I try to fake it as little as possible.  It seems to have worked so far.

Care to share?

Tweet

2012: Enjoy The Journey

We always focus on the goals. Our giant ambitions. The problem is, anything less than complete success and we feel like failures.

But you're a success every time you wake up in the morning and declare yourself an artist.

Too many people I know, myself included, get locked into self-judgement, angry about the things we haven't accomplished yet and how we're not achieving everything we want. Instead of enjoying the creative people we meet and fascinating places we visit, we focus on what we've achieved or not achieved.

Too many artists are unhappy. I know the stereotype, I know the cliche, but it doesn't have to be. It's a journey. We create things and sometimes they work out, sometimes they don't. The important thing is the journey we're on.

In the past I have preached ambition and dedication and work ethic. But here's the thing, they're not everything. You have to live life too. Your art will be better for it. Earn your artistic indulgences. Art is best when it has relevance in the world. You need to participate in it. If you spend too long dismissing the mainstream and hiding in your room, you'll miss out on what matters to your audience. 

Society has a set idea of success. Are you rich? Are you famous? Do I know your work? This is jarring to the true artist, because deep down your body dances to a different rhythm. An artist asks: am I enjoying this? Does it feel like me? Am I passionate? Without those, you'll be in mental chaos. We forget this, and begin judging our work the way everyone else does, which can only lead to unhappiness -- because they're the wrong questions. 

Get closer to what and who you love, and dive into the journey. Find souls who are like you. Find collaborators who you want to be around for the rest of your life.

Don't limit yourself with ambitions. Of course, It's good to have direction, but you gotta stay open to the different waves the universe sends.

Every artistic experience, whether big or small, is valid. When you're pissed off because you're working on a short film rather than winning Oscars, you're disrespecting the people you're working with, and you're limiting your chance to grow and be a better artist. Scrap that and enjoy whatever it is you're involved in right now. 

I've had a blast this year, and I'm only now realising it, after months of depressively dissecting the projects that didn't quite go right. There is always another project, another chance, another journey. It's important to remember that it isn't life and death, it's just art. And art is like the wind, it blows in different directions and sometimes it'll carry you and sometimes it will be a force against you. As long as you get out there and be a part of the journey, you're going to have a great time and you'll create work that will resonate with a lot of people. 

Just don't put pressure on yourself. You know what you want and you know how to do it. Beating yourself over the head every time you wake up is not going to help. 

Relax. 

Remember how much you love the movies. 

And calmly get to work. 

Care to share?

Tweet

Christmas Eve At The Video Store!

I used to rush down there as early as possible for the Christmas Eve deal. It was 4 discs for £5, and you could keep them for 3 nights. The big titles would go first. And then the Christmas classics were gone. You'd scramble around for the perfect films to fit your mood. 

The place was rammed. The best part was the conversations, the banter. It was the place to be. 

They knew me from when I was a kid, so I got preferential treatment. They'd keep videos behind for me, let me take extra ones. It was about community back when things were about community. That was always  why people loved the video store. You could get away from your parents or your wife or your kids and go into a place where what mattered was THE MOVIES.

And it was right at the end of your road. Seems crazy now; to think that you could just walk down the street and then spend two hours talking to someone about Al Pacino or Jack Lemmon or Jean-Luc Godard. 

I was desperate for a job there. I begged and begged. 

And then one day it happened. 

Tuesday nights were my domain. And this was after video stores were dead. My nights were the only profitable ones. Not by a big margin, but enough. I recommended the right blockbusters to the blockbuster crowd and the best alternative films to those who were looking to see something unique. But it was dying and gone and by this time we were all looking towards the internet, DVD rentals and everything else. 

People think it's all about technology but it isn't, it's about people. Sure, the Kindle will take over everything but there's nothing magical about passing books electronically through the generations. It's the actual physical books that hold magic. The video store was about the community. That's why our store lived as long as it did, people went there to connect, to speak to someone who valued the cinema over whatever junk was on TV. No-one got kicked out, no-one was forced to buy. We were genuinely happy just to chat. 

I guess that's why the video stores died. They refused to change. Very rarely did you find a business savvy independent video store, they were too invested in the people. Video stores were the coffee houses of the 80's and 90's. The difference being the drinks were films, not coffee beans; and the staff actually remembered your name. 

I wasn't working on Christmas eve; but I went down there and did it for free anyway. And even though the business model was dead, its future gone; we rocked it on Christmas eve. Everyone in town and further out knew about it. 

Sometimes, for the briefest of moments, you're able to convince yourself that magic can live forever. But it can't. You gotta hold onto it when it happens because before long everyone has changed and the thing you love about it is gone. The video store is something that our children will never know about. There'll be new ways of experiencing things, but even those will change. I was just getting used to the thrill of discs dropping onto my doormat, and now they want me to stream everything. Technically things are improving, but I miss the people. Sometimes we'd stand there for three hours, amongst the DVDs, drinking tea and talking about life and movies and whatever else. 

And now it's a Chinese takeaway place. 

That thing we loved is gone and exists only in our memories. 

Care to share?

Tweet

DIRECTING ACTORS: Multiple Takes

Sometimes you don't need to give any feedback, the actor will get it right the second time around.

When you do too many takes, everyone loses their energy. It's good to remind your actors what their character's intentions are.

Be prepared to insist on a certain bit of dialogue when an actor wants to change it. Also be prepared to disregard the script and let the actors be free. Both ways are right, just at different times.

Be direct in what you want.

Give compliments.

Don't give too many compliments.

When you've got it, get the actors to do one 'for fun'. This is usually the best take.

Don't allow actors to worry about sound issues or lighting, It's not their job.

Often, all an actor needs is a little tiny insight about their character. It's probably something tiny and obvious that you assume they already know.

Take a short break.

Don't indulge too much in goofing around laughing. Jim Carrey is funny in outtakes, the actors in your film aren't. There's work to do.

Keep a close eye on how awake the actors are. Even the best ones dip in and out of the moment, like a footballer who disappears halfway through a game.

Care to share?

Tweet

Movie Star Girl - Chapter Four

Nicola filmed with Spielberg and got famous. Jason and his wife separated and his friendship with Nicola turned into something more. Tommy stayed in New York, finishing the movie. That’s how it went for a while. Tommy began dating some big-breasted French girl who was all excited about meeting a film director, but he soon dumped her because he could never remember her name.

Tommy liked things the way they were. He missed Nicola, but he knew it was impossible. She was a beautiful movie star girl, and he was a small independent film director in New York. They were in different worlds now. He didn’t begrudge Jason either. He understood it. They were friends, they were staying together in L.A, and things developed. That’s just the way it goes. He’d learned to deal with it and handle it, just as long as they stayed in L.A.

But the Premiere of "Two People Lost" was in New York at the Angelika. Jason couldn’t make it, because he was filming with Polanski in Europe. Nicola was scheduled to be working with Jason Reitman, but had managed to find space in the schedule to make the trip down. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be there; things hadn’t been left on great terms with Tommy. But she wanted to support the film – it meant the world to her and she got her big-break because of it.

Tommy’s phone rang four hours before the Premiere. It was Nicola. “What are your plans tonight?”

“I’m going to a Premiere,” said Tommy.

“I know that. What are you doing before?”

“Getting ready for the Premiere.”

“Let’s meet up. We should talk.”

“Okay.”

“Meet me at six, outside the place on Mulberry Street.”

They met up outside the place on Mulberry Street and went to the tiny Italian restaurant. Nicola took off her coat, which revealed her dress and the fact that she was, at that moment, quite possibly the most beautiful woman in the world. Tommy mentioned this fact, which made her smile. It was a strange kind of smile, because she realized she could never figure out what Tommy meant by anything he said. And now, with all that had happened, she couldn’t figure out how she felt about him. “I just wanted to meet up, because things got so weird between us and I wanted to make sure that we’re still friends.”

“What’s this Spielberg guy like?” asked Tommy.

“He’s okay. I had to keep telling him how to take the lens cap off the camera.”

“Yeah I’ve heard that about him.”

“So – are we okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re okay with me – you never did anything wrong. I just liked you and got jealous of Jason.”

“You liked me?”

The question confused him. “Well, obviously.”

“I never knew that.”

“I liked you like crazy.”

“You ignored me for the whole shoot.”

“I was trying my best to kill it.”

“Why?”

“I like seeing my fears come true.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had this big fear that you would end up with Jason Hurl; and if we had got together, I’d have spent the rest of our relationship worrying that you’d get with him. So instead, I figured I’d just worry about you getting with him.”

“..And then I got with him.”

“Precisely.”

“It’s not like it was destined to happen.”

“It was destined to happen. He’s Jason Hurl, look at the guy; and you were in a movie with him and you moved in with him.”

“You could have just kissed me.”

“I did.”

“And then what happened?”

“You announced you were moving to L.A. with Jason Hurl.”

“As friends!”

“But you got with him!”

“Because I didn’t get with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t think you liked me.”

“This is like high school.”

“Tommo.”

“What?”

“I just realized something.”

“What?”

“It’s important.”

“What is it?”

“The Premiere starts in fourteen minutes.”

Tommy looked at his watch. Shit. He looked up at Nicola and her beautiful dress. “Nicola,” said Tommy.

“What?” said Nicola.

“You have Bolognese sauce on your dress.”

Nicola looked down at her dress. Shit. “I can’t go to my first premiere dressed in Bolognese sauce."

“You don’t have a choice,” said Tommy.

They burst out into the New York City night and planned on sprinting to the Angelika until they realized Nicola’s heels were not made for running. “Let’s get a cab,” said Nicola.

“It’s one street away, we can walk.”

“Mulberry Street is a long street.”

“We’re right near West Houston & Lafayette.”

“I don’t think you know New York very well,” said Nicola.

“I don’t think we have time to be talking,” said Tommy.

They walked and walked, thinking they were about to hit East Houston Street but instead they hit Spring Street. “Yeah, this isn’t where I thought we were,” said Tommy.

“You have no idea how to treat a Hollywood movie star do you,” said Nicola.

“I’m sorry, we should have got Jason’s limo,” said Tommy.

Nicola smiled, and took a step closer to Tommy. “I don’t want a limo,” she said, “I just want a cupcake.”

Tommy looked into her eyes. He played the cupcake line back in his head. “I just want a cupcake.” That sounds like a romantic line, he thought. Could it be? How would he know? How did any human being in the history of the world ever know if a line was romantic or not?

“I’ll get you a cupcake,” he said.

“I don’t want an actual cupcake,” she replied.

Tommy’s soul sunk. He didn’t understand this girl. “You said you want a cupcake, so what am I meant to think it means if you don’t actually want a cupcake?”

“I don’t want a cupcake right now. What I’m saying is, I want cupcakes. I want to be running around New York, chasing after cupcakes. That’s our thing.”

“What’s our thing?”

“You really need to get a clue before old age creeps up on you,” said Nicola.

“We’re missing the Premiere,” said Tommy.

“Don’t worry. The only thing worth seeing is happening right here on Mulberry Street,” said Nicola, as she wrapped her arms around Tommy and kissed him under the New York City skyline.


The End

Care to share?

Tweet