I find it misleading and even unethical, that you failed to mention that Paul Thomas Anderson was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay because of his script for BOOGIE NIGHTS. It obviously doesn't help prove your point does it? Also, even though No country for old men is adapted, you seem to say that that is the only reason why it is good. i beg to differ; the book was mediocre at best, and had any other director/s been at the helm, it wouldn't have been as great as it turned out to be. As Roger Ebert said, "flawless."
When Two Heads Really Are Better
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Indeed, before the breakdown of the studio system in the '60s, the vast majority of cinema's most celebrated directors—Griffith, Eisenstein, Gance, Murnau, Pabst, Ford, Hawks, Wellman, Lang, Huston, Wyler, Hitchcock, Walsh, Renoir, Kurosawa, Ozu, Mizoguchi, Ray—almost invariably shared their duties.
Even in recent decades, after the major studio model splintered into a thousand pieces, many directors lauded as auteurs—Kubrick, Truffaut, (early) Godard, Lean, Peckinpah, Spielberg, Eastwood, Scorsese, Burton—have chosen to work with a screenwriter for most of their projects. They understand that writing is its own time-consuming craft, and completing more films means apportioning themselves. As directors they know they already have ultimate control anyway.
Dividing the artistic load often allows more freedom, not less. Robert Altman could improvise to his heart's content because he had solid scripts by Joan Tewksberry on "Nashville" and Julian Fellowes on "Gosford Park." Billy Wilder always teamed up with an accomplished writing partner. Joel and Ethan Coen have each other. Even so, "No Country for Old Men," their best film in years, was made by hewing closely to Cormac McCarthy's novel, in some places line for line.
Last year all five nominees in the Best Picture category, including the winner, "The Departed," were products of the usual division of labor; this year two of the five were steered by writer-directors. More films around the world are being produced now in this mode than ever before, and many of them benefit from this fused personality. Mike Leigh in England, David Cronenberg in Canada, Werner Herzog in Germany, Pedro Almodóvar in Spain, Michael Haneke in Austria, Hayao Miyazaki in Japan, Guillermo del Toro in Mexico, Cristian Mungiu in Romania, and a number of Americans (Woody Allen, David Lynch, Albert Brooks, Charles Burnett, Todd Solondz, Lisa Cholodenko, Todd Haynes, Tarantino and Anderson) have consistently realized personal films that have also pleased critics and the public.
This proliferation has resulted in part from such films' being easier to finance. Investors get a package deal: two expensive jobs for the price of one. Anderson was able to bring in "There Will Be Blood," with a large cast and oil rigs that were historically correct, for the relative bargain price of $25 million.
Given the long odds against any of these complex and expensive vehicles ever making it to a theater, and given the numbing standard fare that critics are subjected to on a daily basis at screenings, it's understandable that they cheer unpredictable projects like Anderson's, however badly flawed. Who wouldn't prefer it to another soulless remake, sequel or audience-tailored blockbuster? Perhaps his script should be best viewed not as a parable about American business but about the dangers of writing and directing a feature film by oneself. The Day-Lewis character is an independent oil prospector who refuses to sell out to the majors. More than one American director—most unforgettably Coppola, with "Apocalypse Now"—has veered toward madness in trying to finish a huge and risky project.
Independence should be encouraged, when warranted. Many distinctive films would never have happened without one person taking on both roles. No duo or team of writers could have dreamed up "Eraserhead" or "Killer of Sheep." Finding a simpatico author can at times be more trouble for a director than doing both jobs alone. Hsiaou-hsien Hou, the Taiwanese director, is unusually lucky to have found T'ien-wen Chu and Nien-Jen Wu, his longstanding screenwriters.
And the better movie is not always the most thrilling. "Michael Clayton," written and directed by Tony Gilroy and another contender this year for Best Picture, is more finished and satisfying than "There Will Be Blood." It's also more gimmicky, and I'm not sure I would sacrifice the first 45 minutes of Day-Lewis's bravura performance, as he seduces the trusting locals out of their land, for the more rounded ensemble work, headed by a likably depressed George Clooney, in a melodrama that caricatures lawyers and big business in familiar Hollywood fashion.
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