ReportWire

Tag: Christy Hall

  • ‘It Ends With Us’ Screenwriter on How She Hopes the Film “Destigmatizes” Domestic Violence

    ‘It Ends With Us’ Screenwriter on How She Hopes the Film “Destigmatizes” Domestic Violence

    [ad_1]

    As the first hire for the It Ends With Us film adaption, screenwriter-producer Christy Hall knew she had a long road ahead of her.

    After she was asked to pen the script by director Justin Baldoni, who developed the movie via his Wayfarer Studios shingle, and author Colleen Hoover, whose 2016 best-seller inspired the adaptation, Hall jumped right into immersing herself in the book and its beloved story.

    “I like to do that first, just fall in love with every word, fall in love with every moment, fall in love with every line,” she tells The Hollywood Reporter. And that’s kind of my marinating piece of it.”

    Christy Hall

    Cindy Ord/Getty Images

    From there, she started creating the screenplay, aiming to stick to the “core story as much as possible,” while also being “extremely strategic and systematic” about what stays in from the book and what doesn’t. In addition, she wanted to make Hoover proud as well.

    It Ends With Us follows Lily (Blake Lively) who overcomes a traumatic childhood and embarks on a new life. But after getting romantically involved with neurosurgeon Ryle (Baldoni), she sees sides of him that remind her of her parents’ abusive relationship. And when someone from her past, Atlas (Brandon Sklenar), reenters her life, it complicates things even more and Lily must learn to rely on her own strength to move forward. 

    Now, years later and with the film finally in theaters, Hall hopes the adaptation “destigmatizes” domestic violence and “sparks a lot of conversation” around the subject.

    “I just think it’s art’s job to ignite conversations that can be uncomfortable and hard. But it’s kind of its job to shed light on the darker corners of society,” she says. “And I really believe that art saves lives. I believe this book has saved lives. So I just really hope that the movie can continue the legacy that Colleen Hoover herself started.”

    Below, Hall also talks with THR about the pressure “to do this book justice” for Hoover, book fans and everyone involved in the adaptation, her process of writing the screenplay, and why she hopes the movie inspires Hollywood to tell more stories that “society needs.” The conversation took place before reports of a rift between Lively and Baldoni came to light.

    Going back to the beginning, how did you first get attached to pen the script?

    My film Daddio came out like six weeks ago, [Baldoni], read that as a spec. He also read an adaptation I did for 21 Laps, Shawn Levy’s company. And he reached out to me and said, “I just really feel in my bones that you’re the one to adapt this.” I had not read the book at the time, but he said, “Look, go read it. You’re gonna wanna do this and give me a call.” And that’s exactly what happened. I went away and I read the book and I really, absolutely fell in love with Colleen Hoover as a result. I love that she’s very vocal about that this was inspired by events in her life. I love that I felt like I was just reading a very classic love story and that slowly but surely you realize that Lily was a frog in boiling water. I ultimately called Justin and said it would be my honor and privilege if you guys will have me. 

    He set up a Zoom with me and Colleen … and we hit it off right away. There was a lot of trust there. I was kind of auditioning for her. I was telling her these are all the things that I feel like we can really preserve in the novel, and then here are things that I think we can continue to explore. Because it’s not a novel, it’s a screenplay, there’s limited real estate. It’s a three-act structure – I was already flagging for her that I maybe want to explore in terms of additions to the narrative. And then here are things that I already instinctively feel like might need to be cut. I basically just laid it out for her. And I like to speak very honestly in meetings, like this is my instinct and if it doesn’t feel like a good fit for you, then no harm, no foul. But I like to be very transparent in meetings like that. And I was thrilled that at the end of that conversation. It was probably an almost two-hour Zoom that we had just really talking about it, really unpacking it. And at the end, she told Wayfarer, “that’s our girl,” so I was thrilled. I felt like I’d won the lottery. 

    Originally, we thought this was gonna be a small indie movie that maybe Wayfarer would sell on the other side. But I’m a big believer, if you build it, they will come. So it’s been an incredible journey to go from writing a script and then Sony got involved and then Blake got cast and now it’s just swelled into something that is just deeply exciting and humbling. 

    Knowing the book and story are beloved by so many fans, did you feel any pressure when it came to adapting it into a screenplay?

    Not just by the fans, but by everyone involved. Hundreds of people gathered together to create a village to make this movie. And I believe that everyone was there for the right reasons. We all wanted to do this book justice because we were all fans. So, yes, I felt outside pressure because there’s a lot of expectation around this book. But I even felt internal pressure. I love this book. And Colleen chose me and I was damned if I was gonna let her down.

    Can you walk viewers through the process of taking an established story in a book and transforming it into a screenplay?

    I take a few months to read it and then read it again and then read it again and read it again and just completely immerse myself in the original material to the point that I almost have it memorized. Then from there, you have to start already thinking in a three-act structure, you already have to really be thinking about drive, you have to be thinking about the midpoint, you have to be thinking about the turns. The other complicated thing about this one is it’s a dual timeline, so you have even less real estate if you think about it. There are two stories being told, there’s the past timeline that basically starts when we see Lily wake up and then all the way until she’s seeing – spoiler alert – Atlas being loaded into the ambulance. Then the present timeline. You have to be extremely strategic and systematic about what holds and what doesn’t. And I think a lot of it was just sticking with the core story as much as possible. 

    No decision was made lightly. We wanted everything to be blessed by Colleen herself because if Colleen isn’t happy, I don’t know what the point [is].

    Knowing there is a heavy topic in the story, notably domestic violence, what kind of preparations and research did you do to help make sure its depicted accurately?

    I know Wayfair partnered with a company, I believe it’s called NO MORE, to just make sure that we were getting it right and that we were being extremely thoughtful about the decisions we were making. And again, I have a lot of respect for the fact that this is not an autobiographical story, but it is inspired by true events in Colleen’s life specifically. So just really allowing her to be our North Star and then also working with this organization. They read the script, they saw early assemblies of the edit. I think that partnership was a really integral part of it. 

    Once the film is fully cast, do you go back and make any changes to the script after knowing which actor is playing each character?

    I actually try not to write with an actor in my head. Especially for this because in Colleen’s novel, the characters she’s created are very distinctive, very specific. And so [I’m] just trying to honor what Colleen had created in these characters. I absolutely love everyone’s performance. I think Blake’s performance is just absolutely pitch perfect. I have to say Jenny Slate — she is Allysa. I mean, she’s everything you want her to be when you’re reading the book. I feel like it was just cast extremely well and I feel like those performers just really delivered characters that again started with Colleen. I’m just really, really proud of them for that. 

    I know you couldn’t be on the set due to the writers strike that year, but can you talk about your other role as a producer of the project?

    I was able to be deeply involved all the way up until my union [Writers Guild of America] announced the strike. And then as soon as the strike was over, I was able to then be involved and give notes on the edit and I saw very early assemblies, and I was able to then be activated again, which was great. So I’m very proudly a producer on this film, but I’m also very proudly a member of the WGA. I’m sad I couldn’t be on set every day, that was the intention. But also I’m very proud to have stood with my union.

    Since you’re been on this journey since the beginning, literally as the first hire, what do you hope audiences walk away with after seeing the film? 

    I hope that it maybe destigmatizes this subject matter. This can be an uncomfortable subject matter, and I feel like this tends to just kind of be relegated to indie movies talking about domestic abuse. And I’m really proud that… I have to give a shout to Sony to put out a movie that is very glossy and commercial. There’s a lot of wish fulfillment around it. It’s very beautiful. And also it’s tackling a tricky subject matter. So I hope it destigmatizes, I hope it sparks a lot of conversation. I hope that victims who are seeing this movie might seek help. I hope that abusers who see this movie might also seek help. … I hope it inspires friends of victims, you know, you don’t have to force your help but you can offer it and you can render yourself a lifeline and a very safe place to run to if and when a victim is really ready to receive that help. I just think it’s art’s job to ignite conversations that can be uncomfortable and hard. But it’s kind of its job to shed light on the darker corners of society.

    ***

    It Ends With Us is currently playing in theaters.

     

    [ad_2]

    Carly Thomas

    Source link

  • I’d Like A Quiet Ride: Daddio

    I’d Like A Quiet Ride: Daddio

    [ad_1]

    Before even going into Daddio, the premise is already a hard sell. It’s just Dakota Johnson and Sean Penn talking for roughly one hour and forty minutes (or one hour, thirty-three if you exclude the credits). And yet, the script, written by Christy Hall, managed to make its way onto the Black List in 2017. Unsurprisingly, it was originally intended as a stage play, hence the minimalism and dialogue-heavy nature of it. But, being that a play usually has to be slightly more “bulletproof” with its dialogue, it’s a bit of a shock to see that the content of Daddio is so undeniably cringe. Not, as Hall, Johnson and Penn seemed to be hoping, “edgy” and “no holds barred.” In this case, some holds definitely ought to have been barred, starting with the unsavory gender cliches that both Johnson’s character, whose name is never revealed, and Clark, the driver played by Penn, embody.

    Perhaps just as vexing is that one keeps waiting (and hoping) for some theoretically inevitable twist that finds “Girlie” (this is how Johnson is referred to in the credits) upending everything that Clark thought he knew about life and women (and contempt for modern conveniences). Sort of the way Steve Buscemi’s 2007 film, Interview, did. In a similar fashion to Daddio, Interview also relies solely on the dialogue between a man and a woman of very different stature and in very different places in their lives, while also leaning mostly on one location: Katya’s (Sienna Miller) loft in Manhattan. The film was a remake of Theo van Gogh’s (yes, Vincent is his great-granduncle) 2003 movie of the same name, with Buscemi directing and starring in it, in addition co-writing the script with David Schechter. Like “Girlie” and Clark, Katya and Pierre (Buscemi) play what amounts to a game of verbal cat and mouse, with each person one-upping the other on “emotional sluttiness” as the movie unfolds.

    Hall likely thought that the context of a cab ride remains a totally plausible milieu in which someone might get overly confessional with a stranger. Even though, more than ever, no one wants to talk to their driver, least of all a female passenger forced to engage with a male “ferrier.” But, in having “Girlie” opt to take a yellow cab instead of using an app to call an Uber or a Lyft, etc., Hall seems to want to leave the impression that this woman is an “old soul.” Therefore, also willing to talk to an “old man” like Clark instead of totally disappearing into her phone. In fact, one of the first things Clark says to her is, “It’s nice you’re not on your phone. You don’t have to keep talking to me or nothing, but, just…nice. You, know? To see a human, not plugged in.” Here, it’s worth noting that a great many people do still relish the small talk interactions of the cab ride, along with small talk in other service-centric environments as well. Indeed, some are appalled at the idea that “quiet mode” a.k.a. “quiet ride” could even exist. That it only serves to make us all more isolated from one another and, consequently, even lonelier and more depressed. But then one looks to what a conversation between “Girlie” and Clark is like, and it’s enough to kill off all romanticism about the need for “interacting” with strangers.

    Something that “Girlie” appears rather deft at as she gives an obsequious laugh to Clark’s comment about her being off her phone and asks, “What’s your name?” When he tells her what it is, he doesn’t feel at all inclined to do the “human” thing and ask her what her own name is in response. Therefore, the namelessness of “Girlie,” despite the numerous opportunities presented where he could have asked for it, is one of many things about Daddio that makes it so inherently sexist. That a woman created the product, as usual, has nothing to do with the fact that it is a misogynistic one. Indeed, throughout the movie, rather than being repulsed by the type of man Clark is, “Girlie” only encourages him with her “coy looks” and reinforcing giggles.

    Clark’s overt chauvinism begins around the ten-minute mark of Daddio, when he tells “Girlie” that her “little outfit” gave her away in terms of being someone who actually lives in New York rather than someone who’s just visiting. Instead of being grossed out by that description, she titters and repeats, “My little outfit?” Clark then proceeds to rattle off the reasons why her outfit represents, ultimately, that she can “handle herself,” the supposed true mark of being a New Yorker (who can often never “handle themselves” anywhere else). For those wondering, at this point in the “narrative,” how the fuck it’s going to manage to drag on for a full movie-length amount of time, Hall presents the convenient obstacle of a standstill traffic jam around the twenty-one-minute mark. A.k.a. the proverbial “end of act one.” At which time, it starts to become clear that even 2004’s Taxi has more value when it comes to romanticizing cab rides.   

    With act two, Clark’s freak flag flies unchecked as he has the audacity to turn around (as “Girlie” is engaged in another gross text exchange with the older married man she’s having an affair with), slide open the partition and ask her, “Did you like getting tied up?” This in reference to a story she just told about her much older sister tying her up by her hands and legs and putting her in the empty bathtub when she was a kid. A means to teach her how to “escape” if she was ever kidnapped. Obviously, Clark is more turned on by than “sympathetic” to the story. Rather than shutting him down at this point, as she should have long ago, “Girlie” continues to invite Clark’s skeevy rhetoric by justifying the question with the answer, “I liked the challenge of getting free.”

    After enduring Clark’s “shrink bit” for a while though, there does come a point when “Girlie” finally has the presence of mind to say, “Go fuck yourself”—and it certainly took her long enough. Unfortunately, she opens the door, so to speak, to him again after he “apologizes” by saying, “I just like to push buttons.” Sounds like something his first wife, Madonna, might wield as an excuse. And yes, there’s a missed opportunity for playing one of her songs in the cab when Clark asks if “Girlie” wants to listen to the radio. To keep some aspect of the ride “quiet,” she opts to say no. And it goes without saying that there wasn’t enough money in the budget for “Papa Don’t Preach” (the lead single from the album Madonna actually dedicated to Penn, True Blue) to blast from the speakers—which, for “Girlie,” would have been far more emotionally soothing than indulging Clark for this fucking long. Or even the married man she keeps texting with, often revealing facial expressions that indicate how “icky” she feels at certain moments throughout the “conversation,” not least of which is when the married guy, saved in her phone as “L,” keeps insisting that he “needs her pink.” Needs her to get him off, etc., etc. Alas, she’s already busy getting Clark off on an emotional level in the cab.

    The car doesn’t start moving again until around the fifty-four-minute mark, which means thirty-three minutes have gone by wherein these two are as stationary as the plot and dialogue itself, the latter always dancing around the trope of “Girlie’s” “Daddy issues,” hence the reason why she’s with an older man who’s already taken. And yes, “Girlie” does get into it with Clark about her absentee father, and the fact that he never actually touched her as a child (you know, in the affectionate way, not the molester way).

    Far earlier than this point, a reasonable viewer might ask themselves: are there times when one is feeling this chatty with their driver? Apart from when one is a rich woman with a regular chauffeur? Sure, but this goes well-beyond the “TMI” level of believability. Granted, when straight women are in an especially vulnerable state, particularly over a dude, it’s not out of the realm of possibility for her to become confessional with another man—ideally, an “objective” stranger. Alas, the grotesqueness of their conversation would seemingly require a certain amount of drunkenness to be at play. Not least of which is the almost Woody Allen-meets-Jean-Luc Godard-esque exchange during which “Girlie” says to Clark, “If I told you that I was twenty-four or thirty-four, your opinion of me would drastically change.” He replies, “That’s not true.” She rebuffs, “For women, it is true. It is fuckin’ true. The moment we hit thirty, our value is cut in half.” Clark shrugs, “I mean, fine. Fuck it, it’s true.” He then “comforts” her by adding, “You really do look twenty-something, but by the way you talk all smart and shit, you know, if I wasn’t lookin’ I would guess you were fifty.” (Side note: Dakota Johnson is thirty-four.)

    Through all this supposed repartee (again, by more twentieth century standards of what would constitute that), a tension seems to keep building, but there is never any real release. Never any grand denouement that would make it worthwhile enough to, as a viewer, endure this very long cab ride. Not even the “revelatory” final piece of information that “Girlie” metes out to Clark.

    Worse still, “Girlie” is so “touched” by Clark’s toxic masculinity-based candor that she tips him five hundred dollars at the end of the ride. Of course, an Uber would have been much cheaper in every way, not to mention the prior-to-booking offer it gives to have a “quiet ride” and not deal with any chatty bullshit from fundamentally lonely men like Clark, a driver who, in the end, doesn’t make anyone feel all that nostalgic about the slow death of the yellow cab.

    [ad_2]

    Genna Rivieccio

    Source link