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When it comes to wanting to emulate a certain screenwriter, the biggest “douchebag cliché” veers toward Charlie Kaufman worship. In the screenwriting world, it almost amounts to the same thing as a literary writer worshipping David Foster Wallace—who, yes, is mentioned within the first two minutes of Only Murders in the Building’s fifth episode in season four, “Adaptation.” (Specifically, “I can quote David Foster Wallace AND Ace Ventura.” Which is not exactly something to be proud of.) Obviously named as such in honor of Kaufman’s grudging homage to the masochism of screenwriting in the 2002 film of the same name.
To convey the masochism and imposter syndrome that’s particularly unique to screenwriting, Marshall P. Pope (Jin Ha) opens the episode with the age-old question, “What makes a writer a real writer?” For most, whether writers or not, the answer, tragically, remains: being paid for it. Because being paid for things is what’s supposed to make you feel like a “real person” in general. But that sensation magnifies tenfold when you’re a writer—and, unfortunately, just one of many in the competitive cesspool of overall mediocrity that often actually allows only the mediocre to rise to the top.
After selling his script to Paramount (with producer Bev Melon [Molly Shannon] at the helm), Marshall fears that he might be just that sort of “success story” as he applies a fake mustache and beard in front of the mirror (an Antonioni poster looming in the background for added pretentious, pseudointellectual flair) to make himself appear more “writerly.” More “worldly,” as he calls it. And, as most people in New York will maintain, “It’s about convincing the world and, honestly, yourself that you have the goods.” The old “fake it till you make it” chestnut. A vexing platitude that was much easier to execute back during a time when absolutely every embarrassing and/or compromising detail about your past couldn’t be dredged up somewhere on the internet and used against/to discredit you.
Even so, Marshall tries his best to evoke the “Kaufman look” (a picture of Charlie tacked to the mirror, in what could be called Single Asian Male-style) in the hope that said screenwriter’s own “brilliance” might rub off on him. Because, as Marshall also adds, “The look only gets you so far.” Theoretically, you’re supposed to have some talent, too. But that theory seems quaint now, rooted in the days before the Kardashians landed onto the scene. Marshall then instructs, “It comes down to what’s on the page.” Alas, if that were truly the case, movies like Madame Web would never be made.
While OMITB’s “Adaptation” never bothers with getting meta in quite the same intense, envelope-pushing way as Kaufman’s movie (though, on a related note, Meryl Streep was in Adaptation just as she’s in season four of OMITB), the episode’s own writers, Steve Martin, John Hoffman and J.J. Philbin, are sure to drive home the meta aspect that stems from Charles-Haden Savage (Martin), Oliver Putnam (Martin Short) and Mabel Mora (Selena Gomez) being forced by the studio turning their podcast into a film (rather than the movie-within-a-movie genre, OMITB seeks to embody the less-trodden movie-within-a-TV-show genre) to be photographed with their so-called doppelgangers: the actors playing them. For Charles, it’s Eugene Levy; for Oliver, it’s Zach Galifianakis; for Mabel, it’s Eva Longoria (who tells Mabel she’s been “aged up” to make her relationship with two old men seem less creepy). This serves only as more creative fodder for Marshall as he delves into additional rewrites on the script after spending more time with the trio (thanks to being questioned by them as a suspect).
As Mabel and Charles wrap up their questioning of their “suspect,” Mabel can’t resist the inclination to ask, “Is your beard…fake?” An embarrassed Marshall replies, “Oh god, is it that obvious? This is supposed to be costume-grade human hair.” When Mabel continues to probe about why he has it, Marshall admits, “I can’t really grow facial hair and… I wanted to sell myself as a ‘real writer.’ This is the look, right?” Charles and Mabel both regard him as though he’s the saddest creature in the world before Charles gently inquires, “How could a writer of your talent have imposter syndrome?” Mabel, however, can immediately relate to knowing what it’s like to be good at what your passion is, yet still not really believe in that talent even after being accepted by the Establishment. Indeed, for Mabel, Establishment acceptance seems to be another sign, to her, that she’s an imposter. Particularly after Bev laps up every half-cooked idea she offers as Bev’s next adaptation-from-a-podcast movie.
As for Martin (even if playing Charles while saying it) asking the abovementioned question, he’s no doubt speaking from his own experience in the screenwriting field, a métier that makes most of its pursuers feel like a fraud. Especially if they’ve never even sold a script. That one-in-a-million chance befalling only so many aspirants—and it’s typically only the most annoying, least talented ones who are willing to openly say, “Yeah, I’m a screenwriter” despite having no evidence other than an ego and a spec script to back it up.
But what this episode of OMITB aims to do (apart from introducing a pair of new lead suspects) is assure those billed as “amateur” artists that said word is not a bad thing. That, in fact, it proves one is doing it for the love of the art rather than the quest for commercial “glory.” Marshall initially serves as a representation of both sides of that coin, albeit one who only really wants “success” because he’s been conditioned his entire life, like everyone else, to believe that art has value solely if it’s being in some way corporately subsidized. Therefore, “sanctioned” by a “higher power.”
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Genna Rivieccio
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