Like Brothers

by Mark Duplass

  At this point Mark looked at me. And I could see he was fighting back the emotion. He was giving me the “fuck you” look but the tears were already rolling down his cheeks. And all the anger just drained right out of me. I felt horrible. I felt horrible that I’d hurt his feelings. And I think I also felt horrible that I was, essentially, trapped in some way. That I was inextricably linked to Mark in a way that was already limiting the types of friends I could have and the types of things I might want to do. And I knew in my spirit that there was something incredibly beautiful and also inherently unhealthy about our relationship. And a big part of me wanted to dig in my heels and say that “this has to be okay, for me to do things without you.” But I was only nine years old. And I loved my little brother. And I didn’t understand all the things I was feeling.

  So I went outside, took the hammer, and destroyed the rest of the box while Mark watched me from inside. I walked the pieces to the trash can and tossed them in. I did it slowly so he could see me doing it all. And when I was done, I came back in and sat down next to Mark. We turned the TV back on and watched whatever movie was on.

  Later that night, I didn’t tell on him to our parents. I think that, even at those early ages, we already knew our relationship was beyond what our mom and dad could police or even understand. We were building that nonverbal language that we still use today. Laying the track for the familiar blend of big love and heartbreak that only the two of us are capable of wielding upon each other.

  THIS IS THE story of how I liked one of Jay’s new movie ideas so much that I accidentally murdered it. Like Lennie did to that sweet little puppy. (FYI, I’m writing this alone because Jay would try to be nice to me and make me feel less terrible about what I did, but I’d rather just tell it like it happened.)

  I was in Maine on vacation with Katie. Jay and I were coming off of a particularly long run of intense work together. During this time, we were both feeling the need for a little space. Also during this time, Jay came up with an interesting movie idea that didn’t necessarily fit into our “brand” at the time. We were becoming known for making quirky dramedies, and we planned to make a few more that stuck to that mold before we ventured off into uncharted territory. But as we all know, you can’t stop ideas from coming to you. And Jay had come up with a loose concept for a moody, dramatic movie he was calling Children of the Mountains. He didn’t have much, but he knew it should involve a teenage girl from a small town who is estranged from her mother, plus this girl’s not-so-nice boyfriend, her chubby male best friend, and their adventure together through the wilderness to find her mother.

  Since I was on vacation and we were looking for a little break anyway, Jay planned to work on the idea by himself for a bit. Jay and I would talk on the phone every day about something business-related, and I would ask him how the movie idea was coming along. The more he explained the world and feel to me, the more excited I got about what it could be. So I asked him to send me something on paper whenever he felt it was ready. Normally we share things with each other right away. It’s almost inevitable that the other’s ideas will improve the project and help push it forward.

  But Jay was…I don’t want to say resistant, because it wasn’t that. He was just kind of slow getting me some pages to read. Which was an anomaly for him. But I was on vacation, so I didn’t push. Still, I remained excited and felt the idea starting to swirl in my own head. It was taking off and forming a life of its own inside my brain, whether I liked it or not.

  By the next week, I still hadn’t gotten any pages from Jay. So I pressed him to send me something. He was still hesitant, feeling it wasn’t ready yet to be shared, but I assured him I just wanted to get a look at it because I was so genuinely excited about the idea. Which was true! He reluctantly sent me what he had written. And this is when it all got weird.

  When I read the pages I was disappointed. I felt that the plotting was thin. That there were so many opportunities for a classic, great story that Jay was missing out on. Which was insane to me because, of the two of us, Jay in particular has a penchant for using standard genre structure to make our movies move at a fast clip. But this was…slow. And kind of boring. And I was shocked. I knew Jay was a better writer than this and I couldn’t believe that he wasn’t seeing all the opportunities I was seeing. Up until this point, Jay and I had shared the exact same creative instincts and taste. We had never come across a situation where I wanted the movie to go one way and he was seeing it a different way.

  At the time, though, I was so excited about “my version” of this movie building steam in my head that I could only see that version. And it truly was a “good” version of the movie. Well plotted, well-developed character dynamics, good twists—the works. So I just assumed that Jay would be excited that I had cracked the code for Children of the Mountains and could elevate his movie idea beyond what he had been able to write.

  I called him and, as a respectful creative partner, first complimented him on what I thought he did well. Then I excitedly launched into what I thought the script could be. Changing character dynamics, upping the plot quotient, walking Jay through an entire version of the movie that I had accidentally developed in my head over the past couple of weeks. I pitched it well. It sounded amazing. And when I was done…crickets.

  I know Jay well enough to know when he’s bummed out. And I could hear it in the silence on the other end. Yet he too is a respectful creative partner. So he thanked me for my thoughts on the movie and said he needed a beat to let it all settle in his brain. And all I could think was “What’s there to settle? I just cracked the code of an amazing movie! We could go make this thing!” But I didn’t say anything. I hung up. Confused. And a little soul-sick. I couldn’t figure out what went wrong.

  My first thought was that I had damaged his ego. Maybe he couldn’t stand the thought of his little brother being able to crack a better movie out of his idea than he had. But that didn’t make sense. We never had that sense of ego with each other when it came to the work. Over and over again through the years, we’ve always had the philosophy of “best idea wins,” and we were just as happy for either one of us to come up with that idea.

  So I just sat in this gross feeling for a while. And when Jay and I talked the next day about more business stuff, neither of us talked about Children of the Mountains. It had somehow become the diseased elephant in the room, and eventually I couldn’t stand it anymore. So I just jumped in….

  MARK: Hey. Can we talk about Children of the Mountains?

  (Pause.)

  JAY: Sure.

  MARK: Good, cuz I’m feeling weird about it and I don’t know what happened and I don’t know what to do.

  JAY: Yeah. It’s…kinda hard. I’m still figuring it out.

  MARK: Do you wanna…just…try to talk it out with me?

  JAY: Um…okay.

  (The breath. Fuck.)

  JAY: So, you’re an incredible writer. And that version of the movie you came up with is kinda undeniably…great.

  (This is not what I was expecting to hear. I am momentarily relieved, but it might just be my ego feeling that. Not sure yet.)

  JAY: And…I guess what’s been hard for me is that I’m…I’m trying to do something a little different with this one?

  MARK: Okay.

  JAY: Like…I’m trying to give it the space to breathe and tell me what it wants to be. And admittedly that vibe is something maybe more atmospheric, poetic, odd, whatever…something that doesn’t look as good on paper as what you are seeing for this movie.

  (A tough silence.)

  JAY: And the truth is I don’t really know exactly what this movie wants to be. But I’m interested in slowly chasing it, instead of grabbing it and just…jamming it into the place that we already know exists for it. Because we’ve already done that thing. And I want to do this one differently.

  (This break
s my heart. I understand it now. And Jay feels my heartbreak and immediately jumps to my aid with some compliments to soften the blow.)

  JAY: And you are so good at making that movie into something that works. So quickly. But it also makes me doubt myself and what the movie can be. And it kinda puts a cloud over the movie, while I’m still in the phase of trying to get some light on it. I know that sounds corny, but…

  MARK: No. I get it. You’re, like, deep-sea fishing for a bigger, odder, newer way of telling a story. But I’m on the surface just catching fish after fish and it’s hard to do what you’re trying to do with all the noise up there.

  JAY: Yeah. Kind of.

  (Silence. This sucks for both of us. He knows I meant well. I know he appreciates me. But it feels terrible. For both of us.)

  MARK: I’m so sorry. I think I just got excited and saw it….

  JAY: I know you did. And your version is awesome. And maybe better than anything I will eventually come up with. Which is part of what makes this so hard.

  MARK: Okay.

  (At this point I realize I need to back off and take his lead.)

  MARK: So how should we proceed?

  JAY: Um…I think I’m just gonna take some time with it. Let it marinate in my head…try to get back to that pulse I was chasing and see what comes.

  MARK: That sounds good. Don’t feel like you need to include me if you don’t want to. But know that I’m here if you do wanna discuss it at any point.

  JAY: Thanks. I really appreciate you being understanding. And I’m genuinely sorry that you feel like you have to apologize for being inspired and coming up with a brilliant version of my movie.

  It ended here with both of us laughing. Jay is very good at giving this energy to our hard conversations. It’s one of the things I love about him most. So we told each other we loved each other and hung up.

  And we never talked about Children of the Mountains again. It was an unfortunate casualty of our intense collaboration. Jay couldn’t find his way back in because of what I had done, and neither of us wanted to make the movie I came up with because of the way it had all gone down. And now we’re both a little bit better at giving each other that critical time and space during the fragile mystery of birthing a creative idea.

  IT IS BEDTIME. You are wiped. Your kids are wiped. And your goals are at odds. You want them to go to sleep. They want to stay up. It’s a perfect conflict, and one that in our experience does not resolve easily. In fact, we would argue that the great collaboration of parents as rule makers and children as rule followers is never more greatly tested than at bedtime. The essential conflict is simple: Most parents feel the need to lay down the law and make the law feel impenetrable. “This is our routine. We are sticking to it.” And the children are normally smart enough to know that their only chance of “winning” (staying up past bedtime) is to disrupt that routine in any way possible. Basically a fucking nightmare.

  Recently one of us had an experience with one of our daughters (we will leave out names to protect the innocent) that perfectly encapsulated this conflict. Daddy Duplass was trying to get Daughter Duplass into bed, and Daughter Duplass had a new balloon that she did not want to let go of. It went a bit like this:

  DAD: Sweetheart, did you brush your teeth?

  DAUGHTER: Yep.

  DAD: Brush your hair?

  DAUGHTER: Yep.

  DAD: Okay. Thank you. Let’s get you to bed, love.

  DAUGHTER: Okay.

  (Daughter dutifully heads for bedroom, still holding balloon.)

  DAD: Let’s leave the balloon out here, sweetie.

  (Pause. Daughter is thinking. An idea comes.)

  DAUGHTER: But I want to sleep with my balloon.

  (Pause. Dad is now thinking. He knows that if he allows this little girl to bring the balloon into her room, there will be no sleeping tonight. There will only be playing with the balloon.)

  DAD: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  DAUGHTER: Why not?

  DAD: Because balloons are for playing, not for sleeping.

  (The ridiculous shit we say as parents continues to surprise us.)

  DAUGHTER: But I not going to play with it. I only going to sleep with it.

  (And now Dad sees “the play.” If she continues to argue, even if she loses the argument she still gets to stay up later because she bought all this “awake” time by arguing. Even better, if she actually wins the argument, then she gets to stay up that much later playing with the balloon. She has somehow, at four years old, gotten herself into a win-win argument like a skilled corporate trial attorney. Cornered and exhausted, Dad now has no choice but to go into power play mode.)

  DAD: I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s just the way it is.

  (Pause. Quivering bottom lip now from Daughter. Is it real? Fake? Is there a difference? Shit.)

  DAUGHTER: But, Daddy…I cannot sleep without my balloon.

  (Aha! Dad realizes he has found a crack in her logic and the solution has laid itself bare. He has a chance after all.)

  DAD: Honey, you definitely can sleep without that balloon.

  DAUGHTER: I can’t.

  DAD: Yes you can.

  DAUGHTER: But I can’t, Daddy!

  DAD: Sweetie, I know for a fact that you can sleep without that balloon.

  DAUGHTER: How?

  (Dad, excited, goes in for the kill.)

  DAD: Because you just got this balloon today. And I have known you your entire life. And for your entire life you have gone to sleep every single night without that balloon.

  (Bam. Nailed it. And now Daughter knows she has been caught. But surprisingly she does not give up. Dad watches her as her eyes seem to search the room and her own brain for another tactic. Some new approach to win this argument. Or at the very least extend the argument to win more precious time before bed. Then suddenly it hits her and she begins to speak, piecing together an argument that bears an intelligence way beyond her years.)

  DAUGHTER: Yes, Daddy, I know that. But…you see…all the nights that I did sleep before this one…those were nights that I did not have my balloon. And now I do have my balloon, and I cannot sleep without it. Anymore. Ever.

  (And Dad takes this blow to the chin hard. It’s a fantastic argument. It’s been executed with clarity and relative precision. Fuck. He knows he really should honor this hard mental work of hers. But at the same time, he cannot let that balloon into her room or else she will not sleep. She will stay up and play with that damn balloon all night, and tomorrow will be Armageddon for the entire family due to this one little girl’s lack of sleep. Dad has a decision to make. It’s a big one. He must consider not only this girl and himself but the entire family. And he is tired. And maybe not at his best right now. So…)

  DAD: Honey, I’m not going to argue with you anymore. I’m taking the balloon, and it’s time for you to go to bed. And that’s final.

  And, with that, Dad takes his daughter into her bedroom. She cries hard but eventually calms down as he reads her an extra book and lies with her until she falls asleep. And then Dad goes downstairs to finally get his free time. The kids are asleep. He can relax now.

  But he can’t relax. Because he knows he screwed up. Because his daughter made an impeccably smart argument in the face of authority, and he shut it down with the blind hammer of a brute squad. And while he realizes he had her “best interests” in mind (getting her some good sleep so she won’t be exhausted the next day), he did not consider some longer-range interests of hers. That she is a girl. And that he is a man. And that one of the major lessons he needs to teach his daughter is that, with intelligence and a clear, strong, fair argument, she can topple any figure of authority that stands in the way of her goals. Particularly a male figure of authority.

  Fuck.
r />   So Dad beats himself up a little bit longer and then comes up with a plan. He calls it “One out of five.” And he allows himself the luxury to maintain his authority over his daughter in four out of five arguments. This approach will generally keep order in the house. But on that fifth argument, that one that she truly earns a win on, he must concede that win to her. To empower her so that when she is twenty-two years old at her first job and looks up at that boss standing in her way, she has the innate confidence (and historical precedent) to know she can move through that boss and accomplish her goals.

  And then Dad goes upstairs and puts the balloon in his daughter’s room so that she can see it first thing when she wakes up. And watches her sleep for a bit longer. And he is flooded with equal parts lament and celebration that this child-parent collaboration is a complex puzzle whose grand mysteries will never fully reveal themselves.

  (PART 6)*

  American Movie

  Raising Arizona

  Tootsie

  Rocky

  Hoop Dreams

  Dumb and Dumber

  The Horse Boy

  You Can Count on Me

  Joe Versus the Volcano

  Ordinary People

  The final list. With two new movies we hadn’t previously considered. Movies that not only were fantastic but truly rounded out our collective list, as their greatness was tied to viewing experiences we shared together. That time in Austin circa 1993 when we rented Joe Versus the Volcano because we realized one of our great modern playwrights, John Patrick Shanley, wrote and directed the film. And how pleasantly surprised we were to see that it wasn’t a flop after all, but a highly intelligent, misunderstood adult fairy tale. Also—Ordinary People. The film we watched in the early 1980s (way too young) that taught us no matter how difficult things got between us, the thought of losing each other kept us eternally bound.