…is to write the screenplay and/or direct the adaptation of Lev Grossman‘s The Magicians. I must have read this book literally twenty times last year. I have never identified with a fictional character like I did with Quentin Coldwater- well, maybe Jay Gatsby. Quentin “really believes in magic,” which is true one way or another of every lead character in every one of my movies and scripts. And he gets hurt because of it, a lot, which is also true for my characters.
Anyway, they will probably do the movie soon and get someone who’s all famous and stuff. I wish I knew people at CAA and was in a position to lobby for this.
ps I should add here that I was always, always, always* a magic-user in D&D and to this day do not understand why anyone ever wanted to be any other class.
*and will be in the game my grown-up brother is starting with his kids
This is the end of the movie. I clipped it out because, looking back with the perspective of a year, I am pretty proud of it. Of course there are a million things that could have been done better, but still, I think it works.
Emily is a struggling screenwriter who works in an ice cream shop (but don’t call her “struggling!”). Emma, the lead character in Emily’s screenplay, is a struggling screenwriter who works in a coffee shop. But Emma is also secretly “Emmageddon” – a superheroine who brings down doom upon her enemies with the razor-sharp wit and impeccable manners of a Jane Austen heroine. (And the whole thing takes place in outer space, on an asteroid hurtling towards the Earth.) It’s not a comedy.
Emily’s writers group thinks her script is self-indulgent and masturbatory. Except for Dylan. Dylan likes the script. Dylan likes Emily. Darius, Emily’s boss at the ice cream shop, doesn’t like Emily. She’s always late, she has an attitude, and also her screenplay “Emmageddon” is a revelation of Darius’s real, actual plot to use an asteroid-mounted mind-erase ray to destroy the ambitions of all struggling artist-types everywhere, and rid the world forever of the plague of unrealistic artistic aspiration. Darius wishes they could all just accept it and be happy at their day jobs. He’s a humanitarian, really.
But Emily and Dylan disagree. So does Emily’s alter-ego, Emmageddon (she keeps the suit in her closet). And so they must confront Darius to once and for all decide the fate of all struggling artists everywhere (but don’t call them “struggling!”). And they must confront him with the razor-sharp wit and impeccable manners of Jane Austen heroines, in outer space, on an asteroid hurtling towards the Earth!