Scripts Admired by Tarantino: Dialogue, Structure, and the Finished Film

Tarantino has spoken about other people’s writing in specific contexts. His comments make it possible to examine dialogue and narrative construction without inventing a definitive ranking of the best scripts in history.

A conversation about writing offers identifiable examples

In November 2003, a conversation between Tarantino and Brian Helgeland, moderated by Lynn Hirschberg for The New York Times, included a discussion of favorite scripts. Tarantino mentioned, among others, Only Yesterday, Rio Bravo, and Hero. It is a specific source about writing, different from a survey that simply asks about favorite movies.

Only Yesterday makes it possible to see how dialogue can produce action. The lines try to persuade, hold on, deceive, or regain an advantage. The verbal speed matters because each character has a relationship to what the other wants. If the words were merely clever, the conversation could stop the story; here, they take part in its movement.

The script also needs to organize information that several people know unevenly. The audience may understand a maneuver before one of its intended targets and wait for its effect. That difference feeds humor and tension. The writing distributes who knows what, when they say it, and what they are trying to achieve by saying it.

Recognizing that construction does not mean attributing everything that appears in the finished film to the screenwriter. Performance, direction, and editing realize the text’s possibilities through concrete decisions. Praise for the dialogue can coexist with admiration for the way it is delivered. Separating the functions helps us understand their collaboration without turning them into compartments that never affect one another.

Rio Bravo and Hero: living with characters and distinguishing outcomes

Rio Bravo offers a relationship between a threatening situation and the time shared by a group. The story lets us get to know abilities, wounds, and ways of treating one another without fully abandoning its conflict. The writing can sustain interest through coexistence, as well as by preparing events. The audience returns to a conversation because it already knows what it means for the people involved.

Progression does not require every scene to introduce a spectacular twist. An exchange can change trust or show a limit that will matter later. That accumulation turns the characters into presences with memory. When a decision arrives, the viewer has previous experiences to understand why a person might make it that way.

Hero, known in Spain as Héroe por accidente, introduces a distinction Tarantino made in that exchange: his view of the script was stronger than the one he had of the resulting film. The example shows that admiring writing and admiring the finished movie do not always line up. An idea, a structure, or a set of characters can be interesting even if their cinematic development does not satisfy the reader of the script.

Comparing page and screen requires an identified version. Published scripts may correspond to different moments in the process and do not always include all the changes made during shooting. A discrepancy does not by itself prove that someone ruined the work. It allows us to ask what was preserved, what was transformed, and what effect that decision had on the whole.

Aaron Sorkin and the caution needed when speaking about Paul Schrader

Première recalled in May 2020 Tarantino’s admiration for Aaron Sorkin as a dialogue writer, along with his choice of The Social Network as the film of the decade. These are related judgments, but they do not amount to a universal list of scripts ranked by quality. Nor do they allow us to claim that every Sorkin work received the same praise.

The Social Network offers a form of writing where speaking quickly does not eliminate the need to listen. Responses can correct an interpretation, shift an accusation, or reveal an ambition. The exchanges gain energy because people do not always want to answer the question they are asked. Verbal tension arises from conflict between goals, as well as from the skill to craft memorable lines.

The opinion Tarantino has of Paul Schrader requires another nuance. His interest in films such as Taxi Driver and Rolling Thunder should not be reduced to unconditional approval of any version of their scripts. In Cinema Speculation he discusses films, decisions, and alternative possibilities. Critical commentary can include admiration and disagreement within the same analysis.

Cinematic writing also includes action without dialogue. An entrance, a wait, or a visual piece of information can reorganize a scene. Reducing the best scripts to the most quotable lines would leave out the structure that makes those lines matter. The relationship between scenes, shifts in knowledge, and the setup of consequences are part of the same work. Even a memorable line needs the right recipient and the right moment to stop being just a one-off remark.

The documented examples make it possible to identify fertile questions: how a conversation becomes conflict, how a group stays interesting, and how a film transforms a text. They do not constitute a definitive ranking of the whole history of screenwriting. Tarantino appears as a reader and viewer who distinguishes aspects of works, and that distinction offers more tools for analyzing them than a collection of praises presented as if they all meant exactly the same thing.

Back to Tarantino-recommended movies.