Writing mysteries-of-the-week for LONGMIRE is still my most challenging writing gig. Each one needs: a catchy hook, a well-hidden perp, a clever Longmire way of solving it, & an emotionally-resonant reason for the crime. Plus, it ideally reflects on Walt's current state of mind.
Breaking, outlining, writing, revising, prepping, & producing three of these a season for five seasons was the best TV writing education I could ever receive. I return to my showrunner Greer Shephard's guidance all the time, especially her emphasis on scheduling information.
That is, what gets revealed when in a scene. Identifying what the major card each scene holds, and when and how you lay that card down. Or, also: how to distract the viewer/Walt so the actual important clue registers, but their attention is on something that looks like a clue.
I'm not writing mysteries right now, but many of the same principles still hold. Instead of clues, I think of what cards a scene holds in terms of emotion or psychology or a surprising reveal or narrative turn. And then try to determine how to schedule them out in optimal order.
Or, how to hide or de-emphasize those cards so it feels more like a discovery when they come back into play later in the story.
And I still aim for something I think I only achieved a couple of times on LONGMIRE: arranging the crime of the week and Walt's personal story for that episode so they both crescendo at the same time, and each story line speaks to the other.
Another great lesson I took: identifying the texture and aim of the show. A constant question in the writer's room: is this a uniquely LONGMIRE mystery, one that wouldn't show up on another procedurally-minded show? How can we make this weirdly Wyoming?
The seeds of a lot of the mysteries were just found by scanning the news for crimes in Wyoming and crimes having to do with Indian reservations and jurisdiction issues. Or from talking with Marcus Red Thunder, our Cheyenne advisor, or from other folks outside our LA circles.
The goal wasn't necessarily, I don't think, to provide social commentary, but to find situations and conflicts unique to rural & western & Native American life. If it was a crime or conflict that could happen in a city, we'd leave that to other shows. It wasn't our strength.
Another element was coming up with *how* Walt would solve the mystery. Since he was averse to technology (no cell phone), it was a general rule that forensics and such would never be his method for solving a crime (tho such evidence could validate or invalidate his hunch).
Walt was purposefully in a Sherlock Holmes school of deduction -- he gives his deputy a copy of THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES in the pilot. But my favorite solutions relied less on Walt's clever mind than on his deep local knowledge and understanding of human hearts & minds.
So, coming up with a new episodic story that could utilize these elements of our show's somewhat unique procedural engine -- and that could also interface in an interesting way with the "cowboys & Indians" iconography of the Western genre itself -- was the best kind of challenge.
Oh, and one last bit of advice I got from Greer Shephard that I think applies equally to both mysteries and other types of stories: however complicated or tangled the plot gets, the motivation for the inciting incident needs to be simple, direct, emotional, and relatable.
If you're curious about LONGMIRE, or if you dug the show and want a peek behind the scenes, here's a cool five minute video about Marcus Red Thunder and the role he played in our storytelling:
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When I decided to leave academia in order to pursue screenwriting, I also decided to change my culture habits. My brain needed rewiring. All cerebral navel-gazing post-modernism was out. I watched Sons of Anarchy & listened mostly to Johnny Cash & AC/DC & Gn'R. It sorta worked.
Since rewiring my brain into a more elemental, foundational, structurally-sound creative instrument and sorta establishing myself professionally, I've largely been trying to recalibrate in order to let the poetry & weirdness & occasionally even the intellect back in.
I sometimes feel guilty because I rarely take up other peoples' movie/TV/music suggestions. Not too guilty, tho. Most of the art that I take in is actually geared at me trying to get my creative brain and my instincts in tune with what I think it needs at any given moment.
PAT GARRETT & BILLY THE KID (1973). For the longest time, this has been my favorite western. I think it's also the best film ever made about no longer being a young man. It feels like the end of 8 separate epics. It creates & sustains a feeling that no other film approximates.
My favorite scene of any film ever is the "Knocking on Heaven's Door" sequence where Coburn & Slim Pickens & Katy Jurado make their raid on LQ Jones' homestead, ending w/ Pickens's death by the water. It's what -- 3 minutes long? But has the compressed knowledge of a great poem.
My 2nd favorite sequence in any film is also in PAT GARRETT. It's at the end, again scored by Dylan, where Kristofferson & Rita Coolidge arrive at Pete Maxwell's house. Recollections of a pointless death + young lovers' tenderness + the approach of angels of death: most of life.
THE MASTER (2012). In the final analysis, despite my best intentions, I'm a pretty basic film bro. I'm most at home w/ Tarantino, the Coens, PTA. I dig Fincher & Nolan quite a bit less than my type. But I love me some Kubrick. And worship Scorsese. Very basic bro stuff.
Even in my film bro-ness, I've continually found myself resisting THE MASTER. But weirdly I've kept returning to it, I think because I find the first 40 minutes so visually captivating. This time, I think I internalized the film's (non) structure enough to get into its vibe.
I have some theories. One theory: the only reason PTA ever works as a writer is because he always gets PTA to direct his scripts. In the same way that Tarantino is only interesting as a director because he always gets to direct Quentin Tarantino scripts.
JOKER (2019). The boys (12 & 10) had been wanting to see this after they flipped out for Heath Ledger's take on the character. I have zero emotional investment in the Batman mythos, so I take this film as just a movie. It was a top 5 film for me last year. Totally holds up.
I don't care that it's just transposing TAXI DRIVER & KING OF COMEDY into the DC universe. I actually think that's an inspired creative decision akin to Leone transposing YOJIMBO into the West in FISTFUL OF DOLLARS or Kurosawa transposing RED HARVEST into the world of YOJIMBO.
What I care about: JOKER carefully -- almost classically -- builds up Arthur Fleck piece by piece and crisis by crisis until we understand and sympathize with the human underneath the mythic mask. Story wise, it's more disciplined than anything Nolan did. Better visuals, too.
I tend to love films that respect the privacy of their characters. Or that recognize how existential solitude can actually be a kind of dignity. TENDER MERCIES is one of my favorite films because of this. It regards its characters in the same spirit that they regard themselves.
The "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" sequence in PAT GARRETT & BILLY THE KID is my favorite scene of all-time. I find the loving self-imposed distance between Slim Pickens and Katy Jurado -- allowing Pickens his dignity in his last moments -- to be overwhelmingly gorgeous and moving.
All of this might be a result of my own special bag of personal issues. Leigh and I have been together for 17 years and one of my favorite things about our relationship is that in many ways we're pretty much still mysteries to one another.
Little Richard's place as one of the absolutely essential, seminal founding fathers of rock n' roll is unassailable. But that placement isn't made any more secure via imaginary narratives at the expense of other badass legends. That's to say, Jerry Lee Lewis didn't steal shit.
Of course, Jerry Lee Lewis is a bit of a thief. Just like Little Richard and every interesting artist ever. Both men played the piano. Both were incendiary personalities. Both emerged in the 50s. But it diminishes both Little Richard & the Killer to say they have the same act.
They worked different sides of the street. Little Richard's sound emerged from the black gospel tradition and from the jump blues, r&b sound of pioneers like Louis Jordan and Johnny Otis. But his flamboyant, androgynous, code-mixing personae was pure vaudeville.