Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead – writing like you're alive

Boat drinks or buckwheats? Think very carefully before you answer. How can an underrated 90s noir movie help us find a more authentic voice in advertising?

Everything I know about advertising I learnt from the movies #13

“Buckwheats” sounds like a healthy wholewheat breakfast cereal, that will keep you regular. But, if you ever met The Man With The Plan, it’s one thing you would never want to hear. It would have a significant impact on your health – and your bowels – so much so, you’d never eat breakfast, or any other meal, again. It’s just one of the idiosyncratic words and phrases in the rich vernacular of the characters in Things to Do in Denver When You’re Dead (TTDIDWYD) from 1995, that defines their world and brings it alive on the screen.

The Man with the Plan, played by the great Christopher Walken, is a bitter quadriplegic Denver crime boss, who wants to bring his old gang together for one last simple job: an “action” not “a piece of work.” Most of them are happily retired from their criminal activities, and pursuing more wholesome activities, like Jimmy the Saint, played by Andy Garcia.

Jimmy is trying to go it alone, and legit, with his new business: “Afterlife Advice.” He films people imparting worldly wisdom to their loved ones, to watch after they’ve died. But it’s his business that is dying: part of the reason he answers The Man with the Plan’s call. He needs the money, but nowhere near as much as he needs to stay alive. You don’t say “no” to The Man’s call,  which is where the buckwheats comes in, but more of that after breakfast. 

Released after Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, TTDIDWYD is a classic underrated film noir, often sneeringly dismissed as Tarantino-esque. But, it was written before either, and what makes it stand out is the dialogue:  the unique argot the characters use, that makes it and them feel so real. The characters have great names too: Jimmy the Saint, Critical Bill, Pieces, Easy Wind, Mr Shhhh… And they live in cruel ugly world, but one in which humanity still shines through.

When writing dialogue specifically – whether that’s for movies, books or even ads – one fundamental flaw that writers make is that it is too “on the nose.” It’s when the characters speak in an artificial, flat way that conveys too directly what they mean, without any nuance, subtext or colour. Or, more importantly, life. Like it’s been written by Chat GPT.

Rich dialogue, sometime with made-up words, conveys so much more than the literal meaning, it gives you an insight into the soul of the character. It helps you understand and bond with them – even if they’re a psychopath, like Critical Bill – so that what they say resonates much more strongly.

It’s kind of hard to do in the thirty seconds of a TV ad, but some brands do it brilliantly: like Budweiser, in their old campaign that launched at the 2000 Superbowl. It didn’t talk about the great fresh crisp taste of Bud, how it is lovingly brewed with the finest hops. Instead, it just brilliantly expressed the real feeling of sharing a Bud with friends. In one beautiful, stupid word: “Whassup.”

In real life, people have always created their own languages and vernacular: defined by nationality, region, religion, occupation, social class, shared interests or just your group of friends. It’s how we define ourselves and create our identities. It us what makes us real, unique, human. And it doesn’t follow the rules of grammar or spelling.

In TTDIDWYD, through such language, the script’s writer Scott Rosenburg created a colourful world that you can believe in – even if it isn’t one you’d want to live in. It feels raw, rough and real. The script is full of so many great little phrases, that the characters use among themselves: “put it in the wind,” “mammy rammer,” “Boat drinks.”

Sometimes we don’t know what they mean, as they don’t immediately explain it, but it intrigues you, draws you in, and the meaning comes out later in the story – and also the stories they tell each other.

‘Boat drinks’ is Jimmy and Co.’s vision of the sunlit uplands, when they’ve hung up their guns, and are sitting on a yacht sipping cocktails in the sunset. Shiny, happy, glossy. Kind of like in an ad. For cocktails. Or boats.

“Buckwheats?” That’s a particularly cruel and messy way to die, that the Man with the Plan orders for anyone who has pissed in his porridge, so to speak. A cereal killer.

What you write should sound like something you overheard in the pub, not that you read in a PowerPoint presentation. Create your own vocabulary. Keep it raw. Keep it real. Say it once more with feeling. Make it alive.

More buckwheats. Less boat drinks.