First, most obvious callback that comes to mind—“I gotta go see about a girl.” I got the feeling the first time I watched the movie that when Sean said this about his wife, it was setting up a Will/Skylar moment later on, so it could have been more surprising (I love it when a callback truly surprises me!), but I thought it worked nonetheless because you’re invested in Will and want him so badly to find happiness. The “It’s not your fault” “I know…” scene worked well for me as a strong, moving moment of catharsis with very simple dialogue that grows more intense through the performance and repetition. Seems like a good lesson in not getting too fancy writing-wise when it comes to dramatic moments—the actors can say so much with so little, and even simply on the page, the less talky/specific it is, the broader the appeal—sure most people haven’t been abused foster kids, but many people have latent guilt stemming from issues in their childhood/past that they need to free themselves from, and in its simplicity, this moment speaks to all of those. Will’s meeting with the first psychologist had a few dialogue moments that felt a little false for me (Tom-foolery, shenanigans, and the comment about his having dinner with his janitor) Sure, some people speak this way, but I would guess the psychologist, who may be an elitist, but a fairly intelligent elitist nonetheless, would try to speak in a way that he believed Will would identify with—by having the psychologist try to use what he perceived to be working class lingo, this might have shown his condescending view of Will in a more believable way. The court scene delivers exposition about Will’s criminal past nicely, seems natural that the judge would review Will’s past crimes and call him out for them while he’s defending himself with archaic legal history. (I doubt a real judge would let him drone on as long as he does though, they tend to be very no-nonsense and curt) This comes soon after Will’s little victory in the bar when he smacks the rude Harvard kid in the face with his extensive knowledge of history, so it’s a nice juxtaposition that is very telling exposition-wise about who Will is and how he’s lived his life up to this point.

Sean is not elitist at all. To me, Sean is Will, or at least a Will who didn't reach his full potential (Lambeau makes the point about Sean was and is smarter than him). Moreover, along with the weightlifting, his working class background is reinforced by the scene where Sean tells Will that he had a ticket, but missed game 7 and Carlton Fisk's homer, all because he met a girl. From a Boston man's POV, giving up that ticket represents the ultimate sacrifice, one that Sean was willing to make, no questions asked, because he loved the girl that much.

Right, I wasn't talking about Sean, but the first psychologist Will meets with, Henry Lipkin, he's the one who says those lines.

my mistake.

I'm not going to copy-paste the whole script; you get what I mean. I'm sure you met Will the parrot: PSYCHOLOGIST: You're getting Defensive, Will. WILL: You're getting defensive, Henry. SEAN: Well I think that's a great philosophy Will, that way you can go through you're entire life without ever having to really know anybody. After a long talk about other subjects, Will finds an opportunity to repeat the same lines to Sean. One of my favorites: WILL: You ever think about gettin' remarried? SEAN: My wife's dead. WILL: Hence the word remarried. SEAN: My wife's dead.

Betsy, good stuff. * Callbacks are one of the single best devices a writer can use in dialogue. A line that has one meaning in one context can take on an utterly different meaning in another context. Plus it serves as a sort of marker for the script reader to note the passage of time and the importance of what has transpired during that time. This is especially true in a screenplay where oftentimes, characters go through dramatic transformations in 100 or so pages. Callbacks can really spotlight those changes. One of my favorites is in the script "Shakespeare in Love," the whole "How does it turn out" / "I don't know. It's a mystery" series of callbacks (done three times as I recall). It's used twice for strictly comedic purposes with Geoffrey Rush's character, but then in their final moments together, Will and Viola use it, the line transformed from humor into something deeply human and bittersweet. * Your point about "It's not your fault" is quite apt. Sometimes it does pay off to write a simple line that is [seemingly] on the nose. And yet what's so interesting about that repeated line of dialogue is how each time Sean says it and each time Will responds, the exchange has a different tone to it, almost like a compressed version of the five stages of grief -- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance -- all back to back to back. * The point you make re the first psychologist and in the court scene, the use of dialogue moments coming off as a "little false" is a good one, and I share your reaction, especially with Will's run-on business citing historical cases. At some point, you just go, "Okay, I get it, he's really effing smart," and the less-is-more-o-meter clicks on. * Finally the court scene is a great way to deliver key exposition quickly and in an entertaining way, amidst the backdrop of a tense dramatic moment. Good analysis, Betsy!

Your comments gave me a great idea: What if we stripped out all the Will-Sean scenes, and read them back to back? Just those scenes to track the arc of their relationship, especially how that is reflected in dialogue? I'll bet that would be quite revelatory. Your observations also bring up another point I had jotted down in the script: The theme of loss. * Sean lost his wife [death]. * Skylar lost her father [death]. * Will lost his parents [death]. Per Will: There is another loss which is really more relevant to his story, at least as it plays out with Sean, then ultimately Skylar: The loss of his childhood and innocence due to abuse by his foster father.

There are so many great lines in GWH, but let me just focus my comments on two long monologues: Sean [52-53] and Will [91-92]. I'm assuming Damon & Affleck must have known the supposed conventional wisdom in Hwood screenwriting circles: avoid monologues. And yet here we have two of them [there are other shorter ones, but monologues nonetheless]. But I think they are justified. Sean's monologue is essentially him stripping away all of Will's defense mechanisms in terms of his behavior, a bromide to blast through Will's consciousness and say, "I see through your shit." By dominating the scene for a full 1-minute plus of dialogue, he does not allow Will to use his best defense: his brain and tongue. Will's monologue is a bit more complex. In his explanation why he can not justify using his intellect for the NSA, there are several things going on: (1) Yet another example of Will's genius, a window into how his mind operates. (2) His grasp of how powerful his genius can be, its potential for both good and mostly bad. (3) How helpless he feels to do anything with his life. (4) As Sean points out immediately after the monologue: "Do you think you're alone?" That is a major piece of subtext in the monologue, that Will perceives himself as being this singular person with this singular condition in a singular circumstance. Both monologues are terrific and remind us that if we have certain types of characters in a certain type of situation in a certain type of story, and most especially if we hear our characters go off on a monologue in a scene, we have the right to write that. Yes, understand that a reader is going to initially think 'uh-oh,' but if what you write is true, compelling and entertaining, screw conventional wisdom. The story prevails. End of subject.