A new nightmare has hit me: During a gala, the script of which I co-wrote – what do I know, some Goya – a monologue that sounded acceptable in my head and in rehearsals turns out to be nonsense when verbalized live. But that's not the drama, this fear is part of the job. The real horror comes when whoever publishes it blames its screenwriters at that moment.
It happened on Sunday at the Golden Globes. During the gala's opening monologue full of failed jokes, host comedian Jo Koy wanted to point out that some were written by him and others by “other people.” Later, in the absence of any complicity on the part of the audience, he clarified that his jokes were the ones that were funny. And none of it was a joke.
Just as he often denies us praise, the screenwriter's proverbial invisibility sometimes protects us from criticism related to our work. Most of us screenwriters fail, and we have to accept that it seems that way to the public because we are writing for them. Almost no one enjoys the genius they aspire to, and woe betide those who think so. But a performer never pauses during a laugh-inducing monologue to celebrate their creators.
The work of television, cinema and theater is collaborative, which complicates their success – it depends on many people and their mechanisms – and encourages their failure – it only takes one card to fall for the castle to collapse. It also allows us all to benefit from the talents of others. Knowing that you are part of this castle means celebrating the successes of your colleagues publicly and at least reserving the distribution of responsibilities to private individuals.
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