Introduction to Love in Plain Sight: A Screenplay

This is an introduction to a book I am self-publishing for one of my early screenplays. It will be available very soon, hopefully within a couple days.

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Singhular Vision Productions.

All Rights Reserved. © 2021.

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Introduction

First off: thank you to anyone reading this or giving it any attention at all, it means a lot to me.

Before you read the script I think it requires a bit of background for a full appreciation of what I was aiming for. I also don’t want anyone going into this with any weird expectations about what this is and being disappointed, so allow me to explain. (Or you can just skip right to the script, it’s up to you, as Ricky Nelson would say, lol).

I graduated from my useless program at the University of Toronto in the spring of 2014. I wrote a screenplay that I wanted to make that summer called “Suburban Summers,” an anthology film inspired heavily by European filmmakers I liked at the time, specifically the French New Wave and Kieślowski’s Dekalog. When I finished it, I realized the cast ended up being way too many people for me to actually make it with (maybe I will publish it someday). So I shelved it and spent the ensuing time working dumb jobs wherever I could, reading, and educating myself further in film in the meantime. It was very intense, and I took it very seriously: I would watch 4 movies a day, and read a lot of screenplays every single day. Working in the film industry as a writer-director is one of the only things I’ve ever wanted to do consistently in my life, so I figured if I was educating myself in the annals of film history I wouldn’t be wasting time.

I consider it a beautiful period of my life I’ll always remember fondly. I’d watch as many movies as I could, filling in the various gaps in my knowledge that my film professors never covered. I’d exhaustively watch every single movie ever made by a director, and then I’d try to read every single interview that director had ever given. (I don’t think there’s a single book in the Conversations with Filmmakers Series that the University of Mississippi published that I haven’t read). It was a wonderful, crazy time for me: I was attempting to learn and cram several decades of film history into my life all at the same time, constantly reading about the craft, and going insane.

There’s a great book called I Lost It at the Video Store by Tom Roston I read during this time that had a big influence on my undertaking. It made a compelling case: in the 90s, the video store was to filmmakers what bookstores were to writers. That was a major part of their education: guys like Tarantino, Kevin Smith, and Darren Aronofsky came of age when video stores were a big deal. With the eradication of video stores, that meant I had to take things into my own hands. I always wanted to be a member of the video store filmmakers, but in a way I happened to be luckier: I was a member of the “Torrent Generation.” 

I realized I was among the first generation of filmmakers who had unprecedented access to almost every single movie I could ever dream of at my fingers. Never in human history did anyone ever have the ability to watch an entire director’s filmography in such a short span of time; even with video stores you’d have to go through a bunch of steps to get the movies you wanted. In the age of the internet, in an average week I could plough through like 28 movies. Some titles were a bit harder to track down than others, but I always found them. Everyone talks about the lore of Tarantino working in a video store and absorbing all those influences and knowledge, and that is obviously very cool, but to me what I was doing was much more effective.
In the daytime I’d do that obsessively, and at night I’d work at a call centre (the place that served as the basis for my first novel, ABSOLUTE ANHEDONIA). While dialing customers, I’d be devouring a screenplay I picked up that day from the library, or a University of Mississippi book of director interviews. Then when my shift was over late at night, I’d come home, eat something fast over the sink, and watch another movie. It was madness: I really lived, breathed, ate, shat, and slept cinema during this time of my life. I don’t think there was a single soul in the world more obsessed with film and filmmaking than me in 2015. That guy is still kind of who I am to a certain extent, but these days I’m a lot better at controlling that aspect of myself. Back then it was different: when you’re in your early 20s you just have a ridiculous amount of energy, and you kind of want to do everything at once because you feel like you’re constantly losing time. For me, that kind of anxiety has always manifested itself into the art life.

Anyway, by January 2016 a year had gone by and I’d learned a lot, but hadn’t actually made anything of my own. I was always having ideas, but I never really explored writing any of them. I felt it was important to take some time to educate myself properly and decide what types of movies I liked and what I was trying to say before finally starting something, and it was time.

The idea I ended up exploring was a sort of talky romantic drama story about 2 people in love who can’t be together due to circumstances outside their control. It would be no more than 90 mins, it would take place in no more than 2-3 locations, and the cast and crew would be as small as possible. I wrote this with the intention that it would be my directorial debut as a 24 year old. It could only have been written by a crazy person in their early 20s bursting with energy and dying to make a movie. The script poured out of me faster than anything else I had ever written; it was all done in a notebook, finished in a month, and I was sad when it was over.

Because of all the movies I was watching, the story was filtered through an eclectic mix of influences. I wanted the film to have the feel of my favourite things at that time in my life: a little bit of Hitchcock, the erotic thrillers of Brian De Palma, the conversational style of Eric Rohmer’s Six Moral Tales, and the plot structure of Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs. It sounds like it’s all over the map, but not inappropriately — it’s still a very measured script. Other movies I was influenced by were things like: Some Velvet Morning (2013), Bad Timing (1980), For Lovers Only (2011), 5 to 7 (2014), The Sunset Limited (2011), and Linklater’s Before Trilogy. Intelligent talky dramas depicting serious subjects for mature, smart adults. I was attracted to the idea of surfaces, and saying a lot with a small world. These movies aren’t for everyone, but the people that like them really like them, and that’s the type of movie I wanted to make.

I soon learned these types of movies don’t really get made that easily.

I tried and tried for the longest time to get it made, and it never happened. At first I tried to do everything independently: I searched for non-union actors. I was willing to pay people thousands of dollars if I had to, but 99% of the actors submitting for the roles didn’t feel right. Some of them didn’t even read the casting notice properly: at one point I had an overweight white man submit for the role of Frank, a character described as a handsome black dude.

Then I tried to go through the traditional routes, getting grants or funded by CFC or Telefilm. More dead ends. At one point, not knowing any better, I reached out to one of the dudes responsible for funding independent movies at Telefilm on Twitter, hoping that I could explain my case and convince him to back the project, only to be told to not contact him there, and to go through the system I already had. This is a guy that had “champion of independent films” in his Twitter bio, so I thought he really did care about making great cinema. I was wrong: most people just want to do the regular shit, of course. (Weirdly, shortly after that this same guy was later accused of misconduct and featured in a post-MeToo documentary about workplace harassment. I guess he was too busy using his power in the industry for bad rather than actually getting cool shit get made).

The Canadian film industry is kind of a joke: there are all these absurd Kafka-esque rules that make you feel like you’re losing your mind. For example, you’ll read stuff like: “In order to be eligible for a grant, first you must have made a film that had a budget of $75,000.” So what they’re saying is that in order to receive money, you have to be the kind of person that doesn’t even need that money in the first place. Even TIFF is a giant joke: they have programs for independent filmmakers that pop up every now and again, but there are all these stipulations designed to screen out the people that need help the most. “Those eligible to apply must have made a feature already,” etc. It’s like that old joke about the young person trying to apply for jobs that require 900 years of experience. I would work there, but I’m in my 20s...how am I supposed to cough up those 900 years? It’s a real chicken and egg thing. 

For all their talk about helping Canadian artists and diversity and blahblahblah, it’s all a load of shit. It’s all a matter of luck, someone helping you, etc. I’m not bitter or complaining, I’m just matter of factly explaining my experience trying to get this film made and failing. I’m saying all this to paint a picture: I consider myself highly intelligent and much more qualified to make a movie than most people, and even I can’t get something made. That’s the landscape we’re in. For every Canadian film that gets made, you have to imagine there are probably dozens of people like me with stuff that doesn’t see the light of day.

The whole experience was incredibly frustrating. I couldn’t do it independently with non-union actors without compromising quality, and the people that claimed to be championing independent film in Canada were really just a bunch of posers and creeps. Even some of my closest friends never got back to me regarding the script or offered any feedback after I sent it to them. I’m not sure if it was because they were expecting a comedy based on my personality or if they were just awful people, but most of them never read it. I’ve found most people insincere in that regard: they say things like, “Let’s do it dude, let’s make a movie!!!” But when it comes down to it, most people are all talk and just not serious about doing the work. I was heartbroken to tell you the truth — I have since cut off all contact with some of these people, lol.

At one point I even considered compromising on the actors and making this script as a stop-motion animation type thing with dolls, but of course with my luck…..Anomalisa came out around that time. A movie that takes place primarily in one room and features two adults talking a lot: there was no way I could do that anymore.

I entered the script into screenwriting competitions and lost every single one of them, but the reader feedback was pretty good. Surprisingly, the readers seemed to get what I was going for and responded pretty well to it. Even if they were disappointed by the end, for the most part they wrote that they liked the rhythm of it and the dialogue. That cheered me up a bit.

After several months trying to get it made it became clear it wouldn’t happen by the deadline I had set for myself. There were just too many obstacles: it was a piece of work that demanded solid actors, and I couldn’t find any. I also had very specific casting notes I wasn’t willing to let go of: I specifically wanted an interracial dynamic onscreen because I firmly believed that would highlight the tension in the relationship further, and one of the characters had to have a convincing Irish accent). The sexuality also seemed to be a problem for some people: some actors that seemed right for the part would be down to work with me, and then they’d flake when they learned more about the project. 

I ended up shelving the script and went on to work on other projects that year, including a documentary on my grandparents, and a biopic script about William Levitt. Over the years I’d write other scripts and work on other things, but I’ve never forgotten this one.

It’s been 5 years since I wrote this and I still haven’t forgotten it entirely. I don’t always like everything I do, but I still really like this one and think it would make for a cool movie. I consider it among the top 5 best things I’ve ever done. It came from such a pure place. There are movies that have been released in the time since I wrote this I’ve literally paid to see that aren’t anywhere near as good as this script in my honest opinion.

I am choosing to publish it now because I don’t think I’ll ever make it. I’m also not really sure anymore if a modern audience is actually able to watch stuff like this these days without checking their phones or giving it the proper engagement it requires to make sense. It’s a very niche type of movie for people that like to watch other people talk a lot in movies. That’s not really the most popular or profitable thing right now, as evidenced by movies like Malcolm and Marie recently: the general consensus I noticed was that people were mainly just bored. However, on the bright side: I’ve also noticed people that read the script for Malcolm and Marie seemed to like it more than the actual film. A script is its own thing, after all, and I’ve found that movies with two characters in one location function very well on paper in general.

Andrew Sarris once wrote, “There is no greater spectacle in the cinema than a man and a woman talking away their share of eternity together,” and that’s a view I share. Movies with men and women talking a lot are among my favourites, and when dialogue is good it’s always fun to watch two great actors perform.

Even though the film was never actually made, I still consider myself a director. I made a choice to not do it primarily because I couldn’t find the right people. Sometimes that’s the most difficult decision to make as a director, but I’m glad I did. I’m also not too disappointed anymore because the script still exists and it’s right here; I’d rather you read a good script than watch a bad movie.

I haven’t changed anything since I finished it 5 years ago, however, one small note: whenever you read asterisks in the script that look like *this,* that is supposed to be something that was meant to be in italics. For some reason italicized words weren’t showing up properly in the publishing thing, so I’ve changed it for that purpose. (That is the only thing I’ve changed for this publication).

If you’ve gotten this far and you’re still here, thank you again for checking this out.

Sincerely,

Dilair

-April 2021