I'm still learning the process of criticism. When someone gives an opinion on something I've written, it's just that: opinion. I have to filter it, consider the reasoning, and ultimately choose whether to accept or discard their argument.
Kerri and Jeff both read the script a few months ago. This past weekend Mike and Stuart gave me their notes. And the verdict is ... if four people tell you the same thing (in slightly different ways) it's no longer opinion. It be fact, folks.
The script is divided into two parts. Part the First covers the misadventures in Galway. Part the Second covers my return to the States and the 15 years that follow. And it's unanimous that everything after the return from Ireland is too much "new" too late in the game. Too new a struggle, too new a romance. Mike went so far as to say that the "Brian" character was a different dude. (Valid, that point.) For the final 20 minutes of a film, it's a different ballgame. And that don't cut the mustard. That second section was where reality and fiction went fisticuffs. Reality was great to get words on the page, but reality doesn't a good narrative arc make. I really struggled writing some of the fiction. The logical part of my brain kept going, "But! But! But, that didn't happen!!" And then the creative side would say, "Your point?"
I had to constantly remind myself: I'm not writing a memoir or an autobiography. "Based on" stories are far from the truth. This one, in particular, is filtered through fiction, alternate history, a singular point of view, and 15 years of fuzzy memory. "Truth of events" isn't anywhere near this story. "Truth, in spirit," that may be another matter entirely.
So, radical cutting will happen. 111 scenes will be cut down to 91. 142 pages will be cut down to 124. Yes, I know, 124 is still a wee bit long. But this is only the first swing of an axe to the whole. There's other pruning and clipping I can do.
But this is good. Kerri, Jeff, Mike, and Stuart did for me a thing which I could not do myself. They told me to get rid of the useless stuff. (Shock! Horror! What?! Nothing in here is useless! It's all beautiful, golden, poetry riding around on a rainbow-farting unicorn!) Not only does it cut the page-count down, something that desperately needed doing, but makes room for the remainder to be a tighter, more focused story.
Special thanks go out to them. I appreciate their honesty and candor. (And, especially, their gentleness when they had to tell me they hated something particular. It can't be easy doing the verbal two-step around the phrase, "Murph, this sucks.")
Thanks, guys and gal.
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