Save the Cat Goes to the Movies (7 page)

Whenever we screenwriters pitch a “road picture,” that story almost always falls into the GF category, but there are many types. A “Buddy Fleece” is often lighter in tone and includes
Planes, Trains and Automobiles; Road Trip;
and
Little Miss Sunshine;
while the “Epic
Fleece” is more like its Greek antecedent, as
Saving Private Ryan
and
Star Wars
show. There is also the “Solo Fleece,” where a single participant goes on the trip, as seen in
About Schmidt
and
Garden State
, and some biographical films where the road that is one’s life reveals the risk and reward of the passage, e.g.,
Capote
and
Ray.

And since there’s gold in that-there Golden Fleece, this category also includes “Sports Fleece” movies like
The Bad News Bears, Hoosiers
, and
Slap Shot
— where the gold is a trophy, and the “Caper Fleece” like
Ocean’s Eleven
— where the gold is an actual treasure kept in a locked room. In these, the team is a variety pack of oddballs who have characteristics the leader lacks, but needs to be whole, and to win.

What’s great about a Golden Fleece is the adventure of being away from home, the lift of participating in a team effort with meaning beyond just us. And what a good time at the movies when it’s done well!

Like Monster in the House, a Golden Fleece is about three essentials: (1) a “road,” (2) a “team,” and (3) a “prize.”

So let’s go “on the road” and take a look.

The “road” is that thing we venture out onto, going away from home and perhaps coming back, but it need not be actual blacktop. It can also be metaphor. The road can be someone’s life, a trip across oceans or across the street — so long as the meaning of that journey is life-changing. And as
The Lord of the Rings
and
Three Kings
prove, the road can cross whole universes, planetary systems, war zones, and dimensions of time and space.

The test of whether or not you are writing a Golden Fleece comes when you ask: Are my heroes going somewhere definite, and can I chart their journey? That demarcation can be seen in the rungs up the ladder of a “Sports Fleece,” for instance. Think of that stock shot in
Major League
as the Cleveland Indians climb out of the cellar, or in
Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story
when Vince Vaughn’s team of Average Joes start knocking off the competition — you can see that whatever path the heroes of these tales are on, these notches let
us know how they’re progressing on the way to the prize. Whether the road is large, small, or imaginary, it’s how the heroes of these tales grow that makes the trip worth taking.

As far as the “team” goes, especially in a “Buddy Fleece” movie like
Planes, Trains and Automobiles
, the story is often about friendship, and whom one picks as one’s teammate(s) — or has thrust upon him — is almost as important as the prize itself, whether it’s one buddy or a lot of them. The hero in a typical Fleece is an underdog, or iconoclast, and his team often represents other qualities such as “heart” or “brains” or “soul” that will be integrated into the hero’s character by the end.

The hero is the centrifugal center of the team, and often the “dull” one. Of all the characters in filmdom, isn’t Luke Skywalker the dullest? But that’s why he needs to be surrounded by Han Solo, a walking shag rug named Chewbacca, and a couple of snarky droids — each with his own unique voice. Luke shares with Jason the thing that makes him a hero: He is
us
on our best, Type-A day — eager, bright-eyed, and plain as vanilla.

In films with larger teams, the introduction of each member can incorporate a goodly chunk of the set-up and a brilliant entrance for each individual is almost required. Masterful versions of this can be seen in heist films like
The Hot Rock
and
Ocean’s Eleven
, in which we establish character and skill set with amazing economy. And check out
Dodgeball
for the comic version of how to intro a team, each with a unique “Limp and Eyepatch” — and in the case of the “Steve the Pirate” character of that film, an actual eyepatch!

When we get to the end of the road, the “prize” doesn’t have to be an actual thing to qualify — and your heroes may not even win it! The “Caper Fleece” includes prison sagas like
Papillon
and
Escape from Alcatraz
where the prize is freedom. And even when the prize is money — as in most heist movies — the good ones are those in which there is a primal reason for taking it: revenge, love, or in the case of
Ocean’s Eleven
, manhood.

Yet when it comes to winning, there’s often a monkey wrench. The
road apple
pops up in a lot of GFs, and is defined as that
thing that kyboshes the plan just when victory is in sight, as when Tom Hanks’ team rescues Private Ryan — who promptly says “no thanks,” and Walter Matthau realizes his “Bad News Bears” can never win. Part of what makes a GF work is our heroes learning that the gold they seek doesn’t even matter, and pales in comparison to the real gold of friendship. Just like in
Rocky
, starring my close personal friend Sylvester Stallone, Rocky Balboa need not beat Apollo Creed to learn who his friends are — and it’s certainly a great way to set up
Rocky 2!

If you are assaying a true road picture, however, keep in mind that these are not as easy to write as you might think. Just sending someone out on the road and assuming the adventure will be great is why I read so many bad “lesbians cross America in a car” scripts (that, sadly, all end up winning Honorable Mention at Sundance). The trick of any story where we send our heroes on the road to find something is making each stop along the way count. Each signpost must have a reason, really mean something, and can’t just be included because it’s “funny” or you’ve always wanted to shoot a scene that takes place at the site of the World’s Biggest Ball of String in Yuma, Arizona. Nope. That may be interesting eye candy, but it really has to have a point to be included.

The journey story is one of the oldest we have in our quiver, but one of the hardest to do well. So take note of what the good ones do right.

And do likewise.

If your screenplay shares any of the following (and I bet it does!), then these are the telltale signs you’ve got an itch for the broad highway — and a passel of GF movies to watch:

1. A “road” spanning oceans, time, or across the street — so long as it demarcates growth. It often includes a “road apple” that stops the trip cold.
   
2. A “team” or a buddy the hero needs to guide him along the way. Usually, it’s those who represent the things the hero doesn’t have: skill, experience, or attitude.
   
3. A “prize” that’s sought and is something primal: going home, securing a treasure, or re-gaining a birthright.
   

The Golden Fleece tale reveals the amazing range of the genre, each with a unique goal, hero, lesson — and a host of meaningful pit stops!

Some movies are icons.
Die Hard
is one.
Jaws
another. And
The Bad News Bears
certainly qualifies. Not only is it a great example of the “Sports Fleece,” it spawned a series of movies that can be pitched with the phrase: “It’s
Bad News Bears
with _____________” in which the blank can be any sport (e.g., hockey in
The Mighty Ducks
, bobsledding in
Cool Runnings).
Of many “Sports Fleece” films that show a quest for athletic gold,
The Bad News Bears
is the champ.

As this story’s down-and-out Jason, an ex-Greek hero with sciatica and a hangover, Walter Matthau is superb; it is to my mind one of his better roles in a long, distinguished career. And with the Bears, that foul-mouthed group of pint-sized Argonauts, director Michael Ritchie treats us to some of the finest sketches of pre-teen suburban dysfunction ever put on film.

To compete for the Little League trophy, Walter and the gang must fight over-involved parents, small minds, and big time Cyclopes, including Vic Morrow as the opposing coach — whom I
still
have nightmares about! And yet the quest these no-names are on is as noble and real as any ancient mythmaker ever put to papyrus: the search for dignity. In the end, the Bears will learn it’s not the trophy, it’s the journey that makes us heroes. Walter and his peewee players will discover that love and friendship of the team trumps gold every time.

GF Type: Sports Fleece

GF Cousins:
The Longest Yard, Slap Shot, Rocky, Major League, Hoosiers, A League of Their Own, Cool Runnings, The Mighty Ducks, Remember the Titans, Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story

THE BAD NEWS BEARS

Screenplay by
Bill Lancaster

Opening Image:
A baseball field watered in preparation for the new season. Morris Buttermaker (Walter Matthau) arrives in a beat-up Cadillac. Walter looks tired; he grabs a beer and spikes it with something stronger, as Kelly Leak (Jackie Earle Haley) watches. Jackie Earle will be key later, but for now he’s a stranger who lights Walter’s cigar. A child shall lead them — or at least have a handy Zippo.

Theme Stated:
Walter meets with the parent hiring him to coach the team. A politician, the man says: “I think we’re doing a really fine thing.” Are we? We’ll find out.

Set-Up:
The team Walter is guiding has sued to be included. As their coach, Walter gets the brunt of the disdain from the parents who run the league. Of these, Roy Turner (Vic Morrow) is the draconian Yankees’ head, and Joyce Van Patten is the power-mad “Cleveland.” Walter is tossed the rule book and meets his team. They are a collection of misfits, each with a peculiar “Limp and Eyepatch,” each less talented than the last — and each with an unusual “skill” Walter doesn’t have. Tanner is “the mouth” whose racial epithets are hair-curling; Engleberg is “the gut” who can’t stop eating; Ogilvie is “the brain” who knows baseball statistics but can’t play for beans; and Lupus is “the heart” who — though a “booger-eating spaz” according to Tanner — will be worth protecting.

Catalyst:
The season starts. At the league kickoff dinner at the local Pizza Hut, Walter is told he better get on the stick. He needs to get the kids’ uniforms. Walter rues the day he agreed to take the job, but now it’s too late to turn back.

Debate:
Or is it? Walter half-heartedly “coaches” the team, but mostly he drinks and has the boys cleaning pools for him. On opening day the results are clear: The Bears’ game against the
Yankees is a disaster. Yankees’ coach Vic emerges as the bad guy — and dark opposite of Walter. In the overall scheme of things, it’s just a game, but the tragic look on Walter’s face while the Bears are embarrassed reveals more. As a metaphor for his life, the loss is a reflection of longtime failure. The humiliation is so bad, one of his team, a Hank Aaron wannabe, Ahmad, runs off the field, strips out of his uniform, and climbs a tall tree (ironically, the exact same reaction I had the day
Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot
came out).

Break into Two:
In the aftermath of the game, Walter realizes what he’s done, but does he have the guts to take responsibility? He’s given an out when he’s “fired,” but he won’t give up. This “quitting thing” is a hard habit to break, he tells the boys, then yells at them. Walter is coming alive.

B Story:
We meet Amanda Whurlitzer (Tatum O’Neal). The long-lost girl phenom with the great curve ball is selling maps to the star’s homes. She is the daughter of a woman Walter used to date and clearly hurt by his departure. Whiskey-voiced Tatum is poised between childhood and young ladyhood, but Walter needs her, and offers Tatum a bribe to get her to join the boys.

Fun and Games:
As the quest unfolds, we see how difficult the Bears’ challenge will be. The “fun” is in watching them come together as a team. If there were ever underdogs worth rooting for, these are them. They become the “Bad News Bears.” As Tatum joins the misfits, the “upside-down version of the world” now includes girls. And when Walter recruits Jackie Earle, we know they’re going to get somewhere. He may be a juvenile delinquent, but he’s the best athlete in town. The team bonds further when Lupus is bullied and Tanner defends him. Being a Bear, even if a “booger-eating spaz,” now trumps everything. The Bears start to show promise; the “road” is now open and the “prize” may be attainable.

Midpoint:
At Minute 58 the Bears win their first game, but it is a “false victory” that keeps getting falser. Will they become soulless weenies like the Yankees? The possibility exists, especially as Walter’s relationship with his charges becomes colder in the guise of being “professional.” When a player gets hurt, Walter is less concerned with the kid and more concerned with beating Vic. Walter has peaked and the “fun” has turned serious.

Bad Guys Close In:
Walter has caught Little League fever and wants victory no matter what. He tells Jackie Earle to handle the ball — even if it means cutting out the other players.

All Is Lost:
On the eve of the championship, Tatum begs Walter to have dinner with her and her mother after the game. Walter gets angry. He throws beer at Tatum and she cries.

Dark Night of the Soul:
The result of going for gold is a “road apple”: Jackie Earle is ostracized by his teammates, and Tatum’s pitching arm is hurt.

Break into Three:
After arguing, the Bears decide to play anyway.

Finale:
The final game is a bookend of the first. Egged on by Vic, Walter wants to win at any cost. Having learned the Little League way, Walter has become one of them — and it isn’t pretty. But when Vic slaps his own son during a tense moment of the game, the truth of “doing a really fine thing” becomes apparent. Walter goes back to the old way, letting all the Bears play. Despite this, fate almost smiles on them; in the final play, they nearly win. But no. Afterward, in a great Synthesis moment, Walter gives the boys beer. Tanner throws their 2nd place trophy back at the Yankees, and all celebrate.