It’s funny reading through old scripts. They are simultaneously so much better and worse than I remember.
One of my older scripts is the funniest. It’s a mumblecore kind of thing– 90 pages of people talking about the meaning of life. But that’s not the funny part. The funny part is that I wrote a perfect manic pixie dream girl. The girl literally tries to show the boy the meaning of life. It’s embarrassing, to say the least. And, in my first few drafts, that’s all she was. A manic pixie dream girl to save the tortured boy. Ah, how I wanted to be that girl, once upon a time, to save a troubled artist and peer inside his beautiful soul. But a friend read the script and he called me out. And I realized, fuck, this girl should have problems. I certainly do. And so she does. And she doesn’t talk to Mr. Protagonist just for his story. She does it to exorcise her old demons. And, by the end, she’s realized she can’t deal with his problems. She has her own shit to deal with.
And, now, I’m trying to think of a way to update it for public consumption. To make my manic pixie dream girl the main character. Because who is more interesting–some suicidal rocker or a woman so desperate to be needed that she tries to save an acquaintance from his suicidal tendencies?