REMEMBERING FRAILTY By Brent Hanley

Frailty. I remember typing that word on the title page of my shitty old computer screen back at the tail end of December ’98. A year out of film school, I had just finished the first draft of my second screenplay, which I had been calling The Ambulance Story but had not officially titled yet. I printed the title page and loved the way the word frailty looked on paper, and it seemed to sum up my script and how I felt about it. Writing it had been a bit harrowing; keeping track of all the plot strings made me feel like it all might fall apart at any moment. I knew the script was solid as a first draft, yet it still seemed frail somehow in my mind. And I loved that it was an abstract title, yet seemed to make perfect sense once you read it and thought about it: the frailty of perception, the frailty of belief, the frailty of man. It was elusive, a bit mysterious, and darkly unique. I had no idea at the time that this simple word, this simple title, would come to mean so many things to me and to so many others. I never imagined that it would take me on a dream adventure where I got to meet, work with, and even become friends with some of my cinematic heroes.

From script to screen is often a torturous, absurd, and overly complicated journey for the screenwriter. I did not have that experience on Frailty. Quite the opposite. There are often many, many drafts done by several other writers before a script makes it to production. I did exactly three drafts of Frailty (including my original), and we made the third, and no other writer touched it (though the running joke on set was that Carrie Fisher was lurking in the shadows ready to do a “punch-up” at any moment). And I owe that completely to the producer, David Kirschner, a man of personal and creative integrity with an unshakable faith in art, who believed in the script and in me so strongly and passionately that he kept us both safe throughout the entire process. Most screenwriters are done once production starts, and are not allowed anywhere near set unless there for a visit. I was involved in all stages, from pre to post. I worked alongside Bill Paxton crafting the dialogue with Matthew McConaughey and Powers Boothe, who both gave masterful performances in the film. Having a natural Texas accent myself, I helped Matt O’Leary and Jeremy Sumpter with their accents. I got to spend hours at the feet of legendary cinematographer Bill Butler, got to watch the brilliant and esteemed artist David Ivie draw the storyboards, got to see every scene shot, got to see it all being cut together, even became dear friends with the editor, Arnie Glassman, when most screenwriters never even get to meet the editor.

During production, I was warmly welcomed by all of the crew, though I had never been on a set before. I did not know it at the time, but the wise and tirelessly dedicated producer David Blocker had given the entire crew the script to read, and thankfully they all seemed to love it and were genuinely excited to be involved. My rare inclusion in all aspects of Frailty was due in part to Kirschner and the other producers, but it was mainly due to the late, great Bill Paxton.

We had sent the script out to several actors, including Bill, for the role of Dad. I had written the role with Tommy Lee Jones in mind, but when Bill was suggested, I loved the idea. I remember Kirschner telling me that Bill not only wanted the role, he also wanted to direct the film. And honestly, I loved that idea too. Night of the Hunter (1955) had been an enormous influence on my script, and it had also been directed by an actor, Charles Laughton, so it made perfect sense to me. When I met Bill and heard him talk about the script and his own love for Night of the Hunter (and other works that had inspired Frailty), I knew he would be true to what I had written. And like most that meet him, I was completely won over by his charm and energy. But I was also impressed with his encyclopedic knowledge of cinema and all the other arts, from painting to architecture. His profound and deeply personal understanding of my script just sealed the deal. We instantly agreed that we wanted to make a film that would, as Bill phrased it, “fuck people up” the way films like Psycho (1960) had done to us. It was obvious to me that he was meant to direct this. In the hands of a lesser director, Frailty would have been just another serial killer gore fest with cheap scares. Long before Bill passed away, we discussed how Frailty had garnered a cult following, and how we were both proud of that. Like Night of the Hunter, we had made a film unique for its time that eventually found a whole new audience mostly made up of people not even born when it was made. With this 4K restoration and release, Frailty will live on a little longer, and hopefully continue to “fuck people up” long after all of its makers are gone.

I sincerely thank every single person that was involved in the creation of Frailty, and all of the fans, especially the ones not born yet, for making Frailty live.