One thing which annoys me when reading a review of a film is the phrase ‘lacklustre script’ – I mean, how do you know? You’re reviewing the finished production, not the script. You haven’t even read the fucking script, so how can you know it’s lacklustre?
It’s not like watching an orchestra perform a concerto where they (should) play exactly what was written down. Sometimes, film making is more like giving the orchestra the music … only to have some musicians decide they’d rather play different notes because they don’t understand the original ones and for some reason haven’t bothered to ask anyone what they mean.
Other musicians are quite happy to play the music as is … but can’t because they haven’t been practising – they thought they were going to be offered a different instrument and only said yes to the triangle as a safety net. Despite the triangle being an essential part of the concerto, they’ve decided it’s beneath them and only ting it half-heartedly thirty seconds or so after being prompted by the conductor.
For some reason, instead of violins, someone’s bought bass guitars because they’re cheaper and, let’s face it, they’re pretty much the same since they’ve both got four strings and are made of wood – no one will notice. Except the violinists who end up hospitalised twelve seconds into the performance.
The lead cellist can only be there for half the performance, so his part is just crossed out at the halfway mark and the kettle-drum-guy asked for a couple of minutes off in the middle and someone just said yes without bothering to check if he was needed.
The conductor has decided to change the ending, but hasn’t bothered to tell *all* the musicians so they’ll just have to improvise when they get there. Luckily, the money runs out three-quarters of the way through recording so the orchestra just rounds it off with a burst of ‘shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits’ instead of the thundering seventeen minute finale.
Afterwards, the sound engineer decides it would be ‘really’ cool’ if the entire middle section was played backwards and because no one really knows what ‘cool’ means … they agree.
The beginning has been lost because no one remembered to start the microphones and the end is unusable because the ‘concert hall’ was actually an open space at the side of a runway and no one realised the planes taking off would be an issue.
What started out as months of carefully plotted musical notation ends up sounding like someone’s pushed half an orchestra down the stairs while the other half hit their instruments with wet cats.
And then, the final insult, some fucking nob end decides the original score must have been ‘lacklustre’ because the resulting mess makes his eardrums bleed.
There is a difference between a script and a finished film and sometimes that difference is incompetence.
Not always, mind you. Sometimes, possibly even most times, the script is lacklustre … but the only way to find out is to actually read the fucking thing. Review the film you’ve watched, not the script you’ve never fucking seen.