Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

William Goldman may be a blowhard. He may write too many cutesy one-liners (and entire scenes), too many reversals, and the occasional exchange of dialogue that makes no sense whatsoever and has nothing to do with the plot.

He may, some years later, turn around and write a book called Adventures in the Screen Trade: A Personal View of Hollywood and Screenwriting, and then, some more years later, write another book called Which Lie Did I Tell? More Adventures in the Screen Trade. Both books are full of equal parts bullshit and wisdom from experience. This guy might be the greatest screenwriter who ever lived. Go look. I'll wait.

(Actually, Goldman himself points to Ernest Lehman, whose resume is admittedly much more impressive.)

Both of Goldman's books are required reading for aspiring screenwriters, or really anyone who has the big, irrational dream of "making it someday." I'm not sure I have that dream anymore, or if I ever really felt that way. Reading Goldman's books did more to confirm why I didn't want to go west than underscore anything I wanted. I learned more about screenwriting (and Hollywood in general) from Bill Goldman's books than virtually anyone or anything I read before or since. His books helped me realize that writing a blockbuster or learning "the Hollywood way" wasn't really what I wanted. I guess I wanted to write something different. And if I never make a dime, at least I never wrote a critical disaster or a punchline to a film snob's joke. I could've made a conscious effort to write formula, to write pabulum. But I just don't want to do that.

Goldman includes the entire screenplay for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid in Adventures of the Screen Trade, and then he spends 20 pages on the strengths and weaknesses of the screenplay, uses examples, and generally rips himself apart and pats himself on the back at the same time. Still, at no point do I feel like he's self-aggrandizing.

This DVD is like film school, which is interesting because I was watching this film a lot when I was in film school. Having a piece of that is nice. Two commentary tracks — one with director George Roy Hill, cinematographer Conrad Hall, and a few others. The second commentary track is William Goldman talking about the film. Much of what Goldman says is in his book(s), sometimes word for word, but watching the commentary track is a good way to get the distilled version of Goldman's reflections.

Goldman was a teacher before he wrote this film. He immersed himself in his job and wanted to be the best teacher his students ever had. One day he looked up and realized three years had passed since the last piece of fiction he wrote. I hear that and think, man, I've been teaching for ten years, off and on, and in that time I've written exactly two screenplays, plus some scattered shorts, sketches, and pieces of fiction. Should I feel bad at my lack of output? Should I be upset that my teaching job takes up so much of my time? Because some days I do feel bad, upset.

But most days I don't. Most days I just feel like I'm living a life of quiet desperation, and I'm not dead yet.