ERIC ROTH
CAREER HIGHLIGHTS:
Forrest Gump; Ali; The Horse Whisperer; The Insider
“It will come to you, whether it’s in a dream or some song you hear or a feeling you have or some memory. I don’t know what the reasons are, whether they’re subconscious or unconscious, but something always seems to save the day.”
—ERIC ROTH
Eric Roth speaks in an almost tepid tone, like a weary man thinking out loud in an empty room. But it’s not apathy. The Oscar- winning scripter’s pleasantly rumpled, modest manner stems from a thoughtful mind that long ago realized a distaste for loud speakers with little to say.
So, like a Zen master who never wanted to be asked, the veteran writer answers questions in a bare, hovering voice that makes you listen more carefully for all its quietness. Of course, what he says helps hold listeners after they lean in. There is also the matter of his career, as notable for huge successes as for the genre-jumping diversity of his credits, from Forrest Gump to The Horse Whisperer and The Insider to Ali.
A good story is what connects them all.
Here, in an expansive, at times personal chat, Roth talks about The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, his own mortality, and the unavoidable truth of classic dramatic structure.
He says he writes more to theme than he does to story and that the first twenty or so pages of a script are where all the work happens. He rewrites those first pages over and over until he breaks the script and knows where it goes from there.
I guess you could say that, but you could also probably say Ali is like that. I think it’s not inaccurate, but this is really from cradle to grave and Forrest Gump isn’t. It was certainly from a boy to a man.
I tried to make it singular, let’s put it that way. Whatever is reminiscent is not by design.
No, no, I think it’s a fair question because obviously I created both, so I’m bringing something with me. There’s probably some similarity in style, but I think they’re very different movies. I think Benjamin deals with different subjects.
I think it’s a look at mortality in a way, the natural qualities of life and death. There’s nothing really extraordinary about his life except for the fact that it’s extraordinary because he ages backwards. He’s sort of an ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances.
I think it makes you think about all sorts of things. On face value, you’d think it would be great. You’d become young again, you’d have great vision again and great stamina and great love, things that sound sort of wondrous. And yet, when one would experience it, it seems to me there is a major component of loneliness. And also, you’re simply aging toward your demise in a different way.
The simple conclusion, without giving too much of the movie away, is that, whether you live your life backwards or forwards, it’s best to live it well.
I can talk to you about my parents’ death. They both died during the writing of this. They informed the whole writing of this.
That’s why I was a little hesitant [when you asked earlier on background] about them … I don’t want to … I love them.
They passed about three years apart, but the [writing] process began when my mother was passing away. I’m not trying to be exploitive of either of their deaths, but it did make me a more mature writer. It’s like the Joan Didion quote about how you have to go to this land of grief that you’re not prepared to go to, but that you have to go to when a loved one dies.
Completely. I remember one particular day, my son, who was twenty-five or so at the time, was having a child and my father had had a stroke so they were at the same hospital. I was going from one room to another. So my son having a child makes me a grandfather and I’m also a son going to visit his father. It just happened that they all fell at the same time.
That does bring up your mortality. Look, I know I’m not only on deck, I’m up to bat right now. But that’s not necessarily bad. If one believes in the natural qualities of life and death, there’s nothing wrong with it. That’s one of the things about the movie that we deal with.
This was more in the middle of it.
I don’t know … I’m not sure the universe is that interested in me. I think you just hopefully come to terms with the conditions of life. There’s going to be all sorts of experiences—good, bad, and indifferent. You have to face these things.
Yeah. I mean, I’m not telling you I’m all that accepting, but I think acceptance is key to some form of peace. But what would I know?
I don’t think I know anything. I really don’t. Not any more than anyone else.
Yeah, I would say more than anything else I’ve written, this one is the most personal. It’s also one that has helped me find some acceptance. That’s a great question. I love that.
There were two, I think. One was trying to decipher what I was going to use from the short story, which became almost nothing. That was painful because obviously F. Scott Fitzgerald is a hundred times the writer I could ever be. But I had to make a decision about what spoke to me in doing this.
I knew that he had written this as a whimsy. I spoke to a few of his biographers and neither felt that he thought this was one of his important works. It was something that had been dashed off.
INTERVIEWER
Was it important for you to know that?
ERIC ROTH
Well, to me it was. Most important was the core of it, which is the idea of a man aging backwards, which actually came from an essay Mark Twain had written about how interesting it would be if we could age the other way and avoid all the infirmities of old age. Maxwell Perkins, F. Scott’s editor, gave him the [Twain] essay, and he wrote a story for a magazine. He’d also just had a baby so he probably needed some money for diapers and alcohol.
Diapers and booze, what else is there? So eighty years later it’s given to me. A number of people had taken a shot at it, including the wonderful Robin Swicord, but for whatever reason it hadn’t really landed. So they gave me a little bit of free rein.
Yes.
The next thing was finding the theme, which is something I’m always interested in. As I said earlier, I wanted to tell a story that lent itself to the idea that, whether you live your life backwards or forwards, you should live it well. That’s how I wanted to tell the story.
The next step was the technical decision of how I wanted to tell the story, which was through a framing device. It doesn’t feel like a device, I think it feels very natural being told by this old woman who’s dying. Once I had that, I knew what the beginning and end was because I knew what was going to happen to her. I knew I was going to start it with a baby being born under unusual circumstances. I decided I was going to take the story through his life—with jumps in time and all—but that it would go from cradle to grave, or grave to cradle as it were.
Which, if you want to talk about screenwriting, is true of all my work. I’m as interested in the theme as I am in what the story is. I feel like I write more toward theme than I do toward story.
Yeah, I think it does. Then I start to populate it. Part of the storytelling is all these people that come through your life. Some make an impact and some don’t. And in the long run, these people have helped give you your point of view on life. It’s this pastiche of people that helps create the fabric of who you are.
Also, you might find it interesting with this movie, I don’t think there’s a bad person in it. There are complicated people and people who don’t live up to what we’d hoped they’d be, but nobody really arch, I hope.
I don’t think too much except for the woman dying. There are all kinds of personal things that enter into it, but no specific people, I think, except for her. And then there are several metaphorical things about destiny and chance and fate, which is an overriding thing.
Completely. Some of it, I just used actual words she said to me. When she was dying I asked her if she was afraid and she said, “No, I’m curious.” That’s in the movie.
And then there’s the notion, what if a person is telling you things you didn’t know about them in the last moments of their life? There was nothing startling about my mother at the end of her life that she hadn’t told me, but you still sort of learn things about people as they’re going away that makes you appreciate them even more.
Then I had to think about the story. The storytelling is very picaresque. It has a structure, but it’s very episodic. I’ve done that in a couple films before, even though I can write in the classical, three-act dramatic structure.
I don’t think you can avoid the classical dramatic structure. You can stand on your head and try to have four acts instead of three, but you’re still going to have a beginning that presents a problem, a second act that complicates it, and a third or fourth [act] that resolves it or doesn’t resolve it. I don’t think you can escape it.
Yeah, with me, even though I’m well aware of structure and where the act breaks should be, the narrative is first. It’s difficult to say which is the chicken and which is the egg. You know, in the back of your head that the structure is there, the act, and so forth.