Scriptwriter and creator of sci-fi TV series First Wave, Chris Brancato, tells Katy Bauer how to hurtle across Hollywood potholes without getting whiplash or becoming a jerk
Writers? They’re a pain in the arse. They hover between chronic insecurity, bar- room brawls and delusions of grandeur. Hardly surprising really. The vast majority do exist in a labyrinth of horror: crass editors, outraged or indifferent readers, rude publishers, pitiful advances, snide reviews and crappy salaries. All of which regularly ping out at them from the rim of the quicksand path that they tread. Is there no respite?
“Well, you can make a pretty good living writing scripts that never get made into anything,” offers screenwriter Chris Brancato – helpful, his voice lilting encouragingly at the end of the sentence. “I once wrote 28 drafts of a feature film script. It took a year-and-a-half of my life. Then the director said he didn’t like it, and they got another writer on the project. On my project! I only got paid for eight of the rewrites, but I still made good money.”
It’s the kind of tale which should end in a bloodbath: the writer commits suicide, but not before he spitefully massacres 12 innocent diners at the Warner Brothers canteen.
It can only be that loads-of-cash twist right at the end which stops him.
At 38, Brancato has been working steadily as a Hollywood writer for 10 years already. He doesn’t love the parties. He isn’t into drugs. He doesn’t date women who look like very tall 11- year-olds. He’s not star-struck. He’s not a jerk or a power-monger. So how did he manage it?
“Look, it’s not just called ‘show’, it’s called ‘show business’. It is a business and that’s how you’ve got to approach it,” says Brancato frankly. “I’m from New York, but I realised I had to be in Los Angeles if I wanted to make it as a screenwriter – so I moved.” So did every other wannabe screenwriter in the Western world. “Sure, everybody there wants to be part of the entertainment industry, but you’ve got to see that as an advantage.”
Brancato did. He gave a script to a friend, who had a friend who was some kind of studio executive, who mentioned it to a friend who worked with Aaron Spelling. Brancato’s script was never realised, but his talent was, and it led to writing jobs on various Spelling productions, including Beverly Hills 90210 and Robin’s Hoods. (Projects offering more psycho-killer potential perhaps, but Spelling cheques must have “incentive” written all over them.)
Brancato acknowledges the element of luck involved in a break like that, but some rule of logic is clearly the greater force.
“There are certain basic things you should do if you want to work in Hollywood: become part of the community, know who’s who, don’t stop writing, get things produced whenever you can – don’t worry about the quality of the production too much: as long as it’s been produced, then it’s valuable resum material.”
For Brancato, the quality of the productions on his resum is no longer under question. Features include Species II and Hoodlam, and for TV there’s The Outer Limits and The X-Files. “I only wrote one X-Files episode, but people talk as though I did the whole series! I’m sure Chris [Carter] has a little Voodoo doll of me which he sticks pins in.”
Science fiction is a recurring theme: “My favourite ever TV series is The Twilight Zone.” Brancato fidgets in his seat. His eyes open wide. His face reddens slightly. He’s excited. “The series writer Rod Serling used science fiction brilliantly as a vehicle for exploring and reflecting the human condition. That’s really what appeals to me about the genre. I’m not at all obsessed with just any science fiction, but I do believe it’s a wonderful way to explore ourselves.”
It also has instant popular appeal – and that’s another how-to-make-it-in- Hollywood tip: popular culture is never a bad place to start.
With First Wave, Brancato takes the popular appeal of sci-fi a step further by infusing it with another global favourite: sex. “The aliens in the show realise that human beings have an exaggerated regard for beauty, so they come to Earth in perfect human form and use sexuality as a means to getting what they want, that is, planetary control. It was a good selling point.”
But selling a television series that is going to cost tens of millions of dollars to make is never easy. Even when you’re teamed up with Francis Ford Coppola’s production company, American Zoetrope and promising a show which would be part The Fugitive, part Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and part Baywatch, financiers don’t swoon.
“Yeah, pitching to financiers is another whole thing.” Brancato half smiles and shakes his head as an indicator that we’ve reached the worst part of all. “You can’t get too deep with them. You have to use other well-known productions as reference so that they get the picture as quickly as possible. The other trick is to use buzzwords and phrases. With First Wave, it was ‘sexy science fiction’.” Brancato laughs at the sound of his own hype, “And don’t be afraid to be vague, or exaggerate. I knew they’d be impressed with the X-Files thing, so I’d just say, ‘Oh yes, I did The X-Files.’ Then at one meeting this guy says, ‘That’s great, and what episodes did you do?’ I just blurted the name of the only episode I’d done: ‘Eve. I did the episode called Eve’. There was a pause, but ultimately they didn’t really care.”
They didn’t give First Wave any money either. Them, and 24 others. “Twenty- sixth time lucky!” Isn’t that a contradiction in terms? How the hell can anyone keep pitching an idea that’s been rejected 25 times without bursting into tears – or flames?
“I had other things going on, which helps. But you’ve got to keep pitching, because that’s how it works. You’ve got to get yourself a thick skin if you want to survive in this business.” Without hesitating, he adds, “And that goes for the writing too. You have to take criticism. It’s hard in the beginning, but now I like it when people tell me ‘look, this middle part is really boring’. It’s a lot better than shooting it your way and having millions of viewers all over the world saying ‘that middle part was really boring’.”
But what about the less robust, hypersensitive, creative lambs in his line of work? How do they survive? “They don’t,” he says.
A short while later: Brancato is called away to take an international phone call. He returns, beaming. “You won’t believe this. You know that script I told you about? The one I rewrote 28 times? Well, my agent just told me that they want to use my version after all!”
Who said writers were a pain in the arse?