Hikayeler, makaleler, röportajlar, şiirler, çeviriler, fotoğraflar, desenler ve notlar. Hatta bir roman.- Stories, essays, interviews, poetry, translations, photos, drawings, and some notes. And even a novel.
Hikayeler, makaleler, röportajlar, şiirler, çeviriler, fotoğraflar, desenler ve notlar. Hatta bir roman.- Stories, essays, interviews, poetry, translations, photos, drawings, and some notes. And even a novel.
A MAN of around 60 with short hair, stubble and thick horn-rimmed glasses having a drink on his own in the bar.
A well-padded guy in his 40s, again with stubble and glasses (ME), is staring at him from the other corner of the bar. The MAN seems immersed in a world of his own; he isn’t even aware of the guy staring. He finishes his drink and orders another.
The other guy drains his glass in one. He pauses for a moment, waits, summons up his courage and finally makes up his mind: he now edges nervously towards the MAN. In an obviously foreign accent, he ventures in English:
ME: Mr M-Mamet?
The MAN in glasses snaps out of his reverie and turns to him.
MAN: Who?
He shoots the guy a squinting glance. Turning to face front:
MAN: No!
ME: (smiling) I recognize you from your pictures.
MAN: (brusque, facing front) I said no. Beat it!
ME: (smiling persistently, not moving) There’s something I wanted to ask you. When you say it’s much easier to write great dialogue than to write great plots...
MAN: (spins around with an imperious look) Fuck you! Who are you anyway?
ME: Just a fan of yours. From Turkey. I also write scripts and dir..
MAN: (interrupts) Can’t you see I’m busy? I told you, beat it!
ME: (goes nowhere, with child-like insistence) I’ll only take a second of your time. Less than 1500 words.
The bespectacled man turns and glances at the guy again.
MAN: Jeez, what is this bullshit? Look, if you’re gonna try selling me something...
ME: No, no, of course not. I’m a fan of your writing, your films... Look, when I first started writing, your films--the ones I saw--they made a big...
MAN: I see...
ME: ...they made a big impact on me. I loved House of Games.
MAN: ...OK. Thanks. Now...
ME: Glengarry Glen Ross... I know it backwards. I’ve probably watched it 50 times.
MAN: That’s nice! Thanks a lot. Goodbye! (dismisses the guy with a wave of the hand)
ME: (ignoring the gesture) Most recently Edmond... I loved it... It came to the Istanbul Film Festival. Nothing beats your style of dialogue. Even films where you only wrote the screenplay, they’re like completely yours. Edmond’s the same: it has you written all over it. Can I ask you a...
MAN: (interrupts again, impatient, trying to stifle his irritation) Look, I don’t have time. (just then, the barman hands him his refreshed glass; as the man pays...) Let me drink this in peace and catch my flight. If you don’t mind...
ME: (gabbling) One question and maybe a piece of advice... Your dialogue writing has taught me so much. Short, clipped sentences. Natural, but incredibly rhythmic flow. And depth... Combining humour and horror, wit and tragedy in the same...
MAN: (interrupts) OK, OK! (gives in, despairing, takes a deep breath) Ask your question and go!
ME: I ran across something you said on the internet.
MAN: Snatches of anything anyone said are all over the place. The internet’s a trash can as much as a gold mine... (as though writing in the air) “What makes me so aggressive is having a small penis...”
ME: Sorry?
MAN: If you get to be famous enough, you might find your name attached to some bullshit remark one day. “What makes me so aggressive is having a small penis,” or “I can’t take alcohol. I drink at airport bars and harass the first celebrity I find, knowing full well I’ll regret it next morning.” Signed: you... Your, you know... Name. What would you say then?
ME: (smiles, swallows the rebuke, sheepish, but not giving up) You said: “It’s much easier to write great dialogue (which is a talent and not really very much of an exertion) than to write great plots. So we playwrights do the next best thing to writing great plots: we write bad plots. And then we fill up the empty spaces with verbiage.”
MAN: (laughs) No shit, you did memorize it!
ME: (laughing) But then... I mean... You’re a writer who writes flawless plots like in House of Games. And your mastery of dialogue...
MAN: (with finality) I didn’t say that...
ME: (faltering for a moment) There’s a website on writers, it was there, as a quote...
MAN: I didn’t say it...
ME: David Mamet was written underneath. I have a hunch you’re just kidding, but...
MAN: (interrupts) Look, buddy, I’m not Babet. I know nothing about that stuff... I’m here minding my own business...
ME: (corrects him): Mamet!
MAN: Excuse me?
ME: David Mamet.
MAN: Whatever the fuck he is...
ME: A playwright, screenwriter and director.
MAN: He must be a hard worker... But I’m not your man.
ME: I’ve seen a few pictures of you, plus an interview on the internet... You look a lot like...
MAN: (interrupts) Sounds like you spend your life on the internet. Look at the computer screen too long and you’ll fuck your eyes. Get out, breathe. Life’s out there on the street.
ME: For a foreigner in the US... The street’s kind of scary...
MAN: (as though saying something trivial) Behind every fear there’s a wish. Go mingle with the crowd. Forget Mamet, Manet, whoever the fuck. Find your own voice and all the rest. If you want some advice, here you go, that’s my advice.
ME: (hung up on the man’s first sentence; repeats the words to himself in a whisper as though trying to figure out where he remembers them from) “Behind every fear there’s a wish.” (lost for words at first, then excitedly, with a smile) Thanks.
MAN: Now get lost.
ME: Thanks. I wish we could’ve talked...
MAN: I said get lost!
I walk away smiling to myself. I think the bespectacled man in the bar had to be David Mamet seeing he was able to quote from Edmond, but neither I nor the audience will ever know the truth.
(*) This conversation didn’t take place during some miraculous encounter with David Mamet (or his lookalike) at a bar in New York’s JFK Airport. Here in Istanbul, as I was thinking about what to write for this book and surfing the internet for inspiration, I found a David Mamet quote (the one cited above) on a website for aspiring writers.
It’s unlikely that a writer who’d written a plot as complex and unpredictable as House of Games would make light of his own dialogue writing when this is his greatest strength. I later dreamed up this conversation and tried to reproduce Mamet’s dialogue style as I wrote it. The sense of tragedy in David Mamet’s perception of the world, his anger, compassion, ruthlessness and sometimes all-enveloping jet-black humour have naturally influenced my own perspective along with several other artists. But I can say I’ve been influenced most by his dialogue technique. There are shades of his style and technique in the monologues of 9 and dialogues of ARA, Anlat İstanbul (Istanbul Tales) and my last three (yet to be made) screenplays. If I ran into him for real, I perhaps wouldn’t be so bold or brazen; but if I dared to open my mouth, I’d say something similar to the above. Of course I’ve no idea how he’d respond...
This article has been published in a book titled : "Film Festivali’nin 30 Yılından 20 Yönetmen" - "20 Directors from 30 years of the Film Festival". 20 directors chose 20 favourite films/directors and wrote some piece about them for the 30th anniversary of Istanbul Film Festival. Translated by: Lucy Wood