7/8/23
Newsletter #390
The Crack of Dawn
Since I already told these stories – 255 newsletters ago – I’m just going to grab it and put it here. I’ve also included a fairly large hunk of if the Unforgiven script (about 7 pages), but it’s certainly worth reading. The fact that the screenwriter, David Webb Peoples, wrote “Production Draft, April 23, 1984,” on the cover indicates to me how hopeful he was that his script was about to go into production. Alas.
10/22/22
Newsletter #135
The Crack of Dawn
I consider this one of the best retorts of my life. The cinematographer on my film, Alien Apocalypse (2005), was David Worth. David is older than me, a terrific DP, and a really bright, funny guy. David shot two of Clint Eastwood’s movies, Any Which Way You Can (1980) and Bronco Billy (1980), and his camera operator was Jack N. Green. After Bronco Billy, Clint shit-canned David, promoted Jack Green to DP, then had him shoot his next thirteen movies, including Unforgiven (1992), for which Jack received an Oscar nomination.
So, David and I were being driven home from the set of Alien Apocalypse in Bulgaria, and I was telling him about my movie, Running Time (1997), and how it’s a heist movie in black and white and it’s all in one shot and in real time. David said, “That sounds great. Better than Reservoir Dogs. Why aren’t you as big as Quentin Tarantino?” I was slightly taken aback, but luckily, I had the wherewithal to respond, “Jack Green was your camera operator. Why aren’t you as big as him?” David grunted like he’d been kicked in the gut, and said, “Good one.”
Hollywood may be located in a big city, but it’s its own small community. David Worth also shot my buddy, Sheldon’s, film, Bloodsport (1988). Jack Green shot the pilot for Bruce Campbell’s TV show, The Adventures of Brisco County Jr.
I love the movie Unforgiven. I didn’t think Clint Eastwood had a great movie in him, but he did. And I think the tale of the screenplay is a magical story for Hollywood. David Webb Peoples, who would later co-write Blade Runner (1982), wrote a western script in 1976 called The Whiskey River Murders (which was also titled, Whore’s Gold, which may have come first). When Blade Runner came out and Mr. Peoples was hot shit for a half-a-minute, he retitled his western script, The William Munny Killings, and sold it to Clint Eastwood. I have no doubt that Mr. Peoples was ecstatically happy with the sale, and eagerly expected to see a movie of his script soon – with Clint Eastwood starring and directing, no less. Well, folks, it generally doesn’t work that way. David People’s script was then put through the “standard Hollywood rewrite process,” meaning, other writers were brought in, draft after draft was written, then different writers were brought in, more drafts were written, and in most cases, the conclusion of this process is that the movie never gets made. In 1991 I was a guest at a Writer’s Guild meeting and heard a really smart screenwriter, Ted Elliot, who is a big shot, and had just written Disney’s smash hit, Aladdin (1992). He described the “standard Hollywood rewrite process” as, “Dissection. And nothing ever comes out of dissection alive.” So, David People’s western script was rewritten and rewritten – dissected until it was dead – and was then it was forgotten.
Eight crucial years elapsed. Although most people don’t remember this anymore, Clint Eastwood’s career went completely into the shithole. He made ten shitty movies in a row that all either way under-performed, or just flat-out bombed. Bronco Billy (1980), Firefox (1982), Honkytonk Man (1982), Sudden Impact (1983, the 4th Dirty Harry movie, which did make money, but was clearly a desperation move), Tightrope (1984), Pale Rider (1985), Heartbreak Ridge (1986), Bird (1988), Pink Cadillac (1988, that he let the stunt director direct), White Hunter Black Heart (1990), and finally, The Rookie (1990). He was 60 years old, which is old in Hollywood, and was forced to rethink his career. Other than Sudden Impact, which as a third sequel in a fading series wasn’t taken very seriously, his last movies that actually made money were, Every Which Way But Loose (1978) and Any Which Way You Can (1980), described by Leonard Maltin as, “Clint takes the first pickup truck to Stupidsville.” Though it’s hard to imagine, Clint Eastwood’s career was almost over.
Being a smart guy, Clint understood that he had to make a really exceptional movie to pull himself out of his hole. He remembered buying a good western script that was sent into rewrite hell, then disappeared. He read the script in its most recent, highly rewritten form, and thought, “That sucks.” Here’s where Clint did something truly intelligent that’s never done in Hollywood. He reread the original Whiskey River Murders script – the one he’d purchased eight years earlier – and that’s the movie Unforgiven. Clint shot the original script, with very few changes. It is truly an inspired script that then caused Clint to become inspired and do the best work of his life. This inspired Jack Green to do his best work, and Gene Hackman and Morgan Freeman and Richard Harris, and Sol Rubinek (whom I met in Best Buy), and everybody else to do their best work. And that’s how a great movie got made.
But wait, I’m not done. At the Oscars in 1993, Unforgiven rightly won: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Supporting Actor, Best Editing – Jack Green was nominated but did not win Best Cinematography. David Webb Peoples lost Best Original Screenplay to that dumb piece of shit movie The Crying Game. As Alex says in A Clockwork Orange with his eyes propped open, “It’s a sin!” David Webb Peoples is now 83 years old, and I just want to tell you, dude, you got ripped off. Your script is brilliant, and the single best element of a terrific movie.
Back in the present day of Newsletter #390, I am including one scene of David Webb Peoples’ 1984 “Production Draft” of the screenplay. It’s almost exactly the movie, word for word. There was one change made that is both crucial and perfect (I assume by Clint), which is – the moment William Munny (Clint Eastwood) begins to drink again after seven years of sobriety. David Peoples has him start drinking at the beginning of the scene. Clint, very wisely, waited until the whore tells him that Ned (Morgan Freeman) is dead, and that Little Bill killed him, then Munny automatically reaches out, takes the bottle and begins drinking. For him, alcohol inevitably leads to him killing somebody.
(We can thank Substack for the strange spacing of the script).
THE WILLIAM MUNNY KILLINGS
Original Screenplay
by
David Webb Peoples
PRODUCTION DRAFT
April 23, 1984
EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - DAY
Open country at sundown seen from a low hill, and you can
barely make out a lone RIDER approaching in the extreme
distance.
VIEW ON MUNNY
Standing on the rise and watching the rider in the distance.
THE KID
Is that what it was like, Bill, in
the old days... ridin' out with
everybody shootin'... smoke all
over an' folks yellin' an' bullets
whizzin' by?
The Kid is behind Bill sitting under a large oak drinking
from a whiskey bottle.
MUNNY
(absently)
Yeah, I guess so.
THE KID
Shit... I thought they was gonna
get us. I was even... scared a
little... just for a minute.
(pause)
Was you ever scared in them days?
Munny turns from watching the rider's slow approach and
walks over to The Kid who can't see the rider from where
he's sitting.
MUNNY
I don't remember, Kid. I was
drunk most of the time. Give me a
pull on that bottle, will you?
Munny takes a big pull on the bottle, returns it to The Kid,
and walks back to the edge of the rise to resume his vigil.
The rider is a little closer now and the sun is a little
lower. It is very beautiful.
THE KID
(drinking heavy)
I shot that fucker three times.
He was takin' a shit. He went for
his pistol an' I blazed away...
first shot got him in the chest...
The Kid wipes whiskey from his chin. He has been working
hard to make the hysteria he feels into a high... but it
won't quite come.
THE KID
Say, Bill...
MUNNY
Yeah.
Munny is watching the rider and the rider is closer.
THE KID
That was... the first one.
MUNNY
First one what?
THE KID
First one I ever killed.
MUNNY
(preoccupied with
his vigil)
Yeah?
THE KID
How I said I shot five men...
it wasn't true.
(long pause)
That Mexican... the one that come
at me with a knife... I busted his
leg with a shovel... I didn't
shoot him or nothin'.
Munny is watching the rider and the rider is much closer but
coming at a walk and Munny goes back over to The Kid for a
pull on the bottle and he's trying to make The Kid feel okay
when he says...
MUNNY
Well, that fella today, you shot
him alright.
THE KID
(forced bravado)
H-hell yeah. I killed the hell
out of him... three shots... he
was takin' a sh-sh-shit an'...
an'...
The Kid is shaking, becoming hysterical, he can't go on, and
Munny hands the bottle back.
MUNNY
Take a drink, Kid.
THE KID
(breaking down, crying)
Oh Ch-ch-christ... it don't... it
don't seem... real... How he's...
DEAD... how he ain't gonna breathe
no more... n-n-never. Or the
other one neither... On account
of... of just... pullin' a
trigger.
Munny walks back to the edge of the rise and watches the
rider and it is a lovely sunset happening and he is talking
to no one in particular.
MUNNY
It's a hell of a thing, ain't it,
killin' a man. You take
everythin' he's got... an'
everythin' he's ever gonna have...
THE KID
(trying to pull him-
self together)
Well, I gu-guess they had it...
comin'.
MUNNY
We all got it comin', Kid.
VIEW on the rider at the foot of the rise and it is Little
Sue and
VIEW on Munny pulling the saddle bags off and Little Sue is
still mounted. They are under the oak tree and it is dusk
and The Kid is just sitting there with his bottle.
MUNNY
I was watchin' you... seein' if
you was followed.
LITTLE SUE
(scared to death)
Silky an' Faith, they rode off to
the East an' two deputies was
followin' them.
Munny has lit a little candle and spread a blanket and he is
opening the bags to count the money.
MUNNY
(pouring out the
coins and bills)
You wanna help me count, Kid?
The Kid is leaning against the tree in a semi-stupor.
THE KID
I trust you, Bill.
MUNNY
Well, you don't wanna trust me too
much. We'll take Ned his share
together so you don't figure I run
off with it.
LITTLE SUE
(startled)
Ned's share?
MUNNY
(counting)
Yeah, he went South ahead of us.
I guess we'll catch him before...
LITTLE SUE
(blurting it out)
He's... he's dead.
MUNNY
(counting)
No he ain't. He went South
yesterday.
LITTLE SUE
They... they killed him. I...
thought you know that. I thought
you knew because...
MUNNY
(looking up)
Nobody didn't kill Ned, he went
South yesterday. He didn't even
kill nobody. Why would anybody
kill Ned?
Little Sue just looks back at him, scared, trembling.
MUNNY
(realizing)
Who killed him?
LITTLE SUE
Little Bill. The... the Bar T
boys caught him and Little Bill...
MUNNY
He hanged him?
(Little Sue shakes her
head "no")
Shot him down?
LITTLE SUE
N-no. He... he beat him up. He
was making him... answer
questions... and beating him up...
and then... Ned just died.
(pause)
Little Bill didn't mean to kill
him... he said he was sorry an'
all... but he said it was a good
example anyhow.
MUNNY
(outraged)
Good example! Good example of
what I'd like to know? He didn't
even kill nobody... he couldn't do
it no more.
LITTLE SUE
They got... a sign on him says
he was a killer.
MUNNY
(flabbergasted)
A sign on him?
LITTLE SUE
In front of Greely's. It says,
"This here is what happens to..."
MUNNY
(incredulous)
They got a sign on him in front
of Greely's?
The Kid just has his head in his hands, it's too much for
him and Little Sue is scared shitless of Munny.
MUNNY
The questions Little Bill asked
him... what sort of questions
was they?
LITTLE SUE
About where you an' him
(indicating The Kid)
was... an' where you was from...
an' what your names was... an'...
MUNNY
What'd Ned say?
LITTLE SUE
L-lies... at first. About how you
was just passin' through and didn't
kill nobody... an' Little Bill kept
askin' questions, mixin' him up,
catchin' lies... an' then he'd beat
on Ned an' Ned would cry and lie
some more an' then... then...
MUNNY
Then... what?
LITTLE SUE
A cowboy come in sayin' you killed
Quick Mike in the shit house at
the Bar T...
MUNNY
An' Little Bill killed Ned for what
I done?
LITTLE SUE
Not on purpose. But he started
hurtin' him worse... makin' him
tell stuff. First ned wouldn't
say nothin'... but Little Bill
hurt him so bad he said who you
was...
Munny looks up sharply. Little Sue is scared, her voice
quavers...
LITTLE SUE contd.
He said how you was really Three
Fingered Jack out of Missouri...
an' Bill said "Same Three Fingered
Jack that dynamited the Rock
Island and Pacific in '69 killin'
women and children an' all?" An'
Ned says you done a lot worse than
that, said you was more cold
blooded than William Bonney or
Clay Alisson or the James Brothers
an' how if he hurt Ned again you
was gonna come an' kill him like
you killed a U.S. Marshall in '73.
MUNNY
Didn't scare Little Bill though,
did it?
LITTLE SUE
N-no, sir?
MUNNY
Lemmee see that Schofield, Kid.
THE KID
Wha... what f-for?
MUNNY
(sharply)
Lemmee see it.
THE KID
(giving it to him)
Sure. Sure, Bill.
Munny takes the pistol and begins to check it methodically,
inspecting the load first... and The Kid watches nervously,
shifting from foot to foot.
THE KID
You... you could keep it, Bill.
I ain't... gonna use it no more,
I ain't gonna kill nobody.
Munny, still checking the gun, glances up and meets The
Kid's uneasy gaze.
THE KID
I... I ain't like you, Bill.
Munny looks back at the pistol, checks the sights.
THE KID
You... gonna take... the money?
MUNNY
(to Little Sue)
You better get on back, Miss.
And Little Sue, still mounted, breathes an enormous silent
sigh of relief and turns her horse away hastily and Munny,
satisfied with the pistol, sticks it in his belt and walks
over to the horse and pulls his sawed-off shotgun out of the
bedroll.
THE KID
You could have it. All of it.
MUNNY
I thought you wanted to buy
spectacles an' fancy clothes an'
all.
THE KID
I'd rather be blind and ragged
than dead, I guess.
Munny looks at The Kid who is behaving bravely but is
trembling anyway, scared, and Munny's eyes are full of
brutally painful memories.
MUNNY
Shit, Kid. I ain't gonna kill
you. You're... the only friend
I got.