I watched a movie the other night called Seven Psychopaths. It was one of those love or hate kinda movies, the ones where your instantly a fan, or an unforgiving critic.
The flick instantly drew me in because it was about a writer writing – shocker. He was coming up with a screen play about seven personalities, all were psychopaths, of course. As a twist, he spoke of buddhism early on, and told his co-star that he didn’t want to have shoot-outs, gore, or violence filling the screen.
His co-star was smart, he said that he should change the name of the movie.
The movie itself, and our writers screenplay, ended up a bloody mess. It leaves our author, the Irish alcoholic, even more addicted and distraught than when we meet him with nothing more than a title and a deadline. But then, in the midst of carnage, he finds his ending.
I won’t completely spoil it for you, but lets just say that while covered in red tragedy, our writer found his buddhist amongst psychopaths. He found his story amongst the noise.
The main character, our self-loathing, self-destructing boozer, got exactly what he wanted in the end. Sure he got a whole bunch of what he didn’t; blood, guns, and violence. But still, he got his story.
And that’s life, and that’s why it was a good movie. Well, that and it was full of Christopher Walken, serial killers, and buddhists.
When we get what we want, the story we worked for, what do we remember? The cool ending with a buddhist, or the blood and guts? Do we remember the shots, or that we survived them?
As a cruel twist, our writer friend gets a phone call during the credits. It sounded a lot like God calling and saying, “since your unwilling to remember and thank me for what I got you out of, I’m changing your ending.”
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