Q&A: Filmmaker Nicholas Stoller Thrives on Conflict
Q&A: Filmmaker Nicholas Stoller Thrives on Conflict
The prolific comedy writer, director, and TV creator responsible for 'Forgetting Sarah Marshall', 'Neighbors', and, most recently, 'Platonic' discusses his authored approach to screen storytelling
Tina Fey, Judd Apatow, Adam McKay. These are just some of the filmmakers and/or TV creators whose work you immediately think of when you the subject of U.S. comedy titans of the 21st century comes up. You know, when that comes up in conversation in your life. If it ever does. Okay, it probably doesn’t. But if it did, you’d probably be like, “Ooh ooh, what about Jason Segal? Didn’t he write a bunch of his movies, too?” At which point, I’d say, “Yes, Jenny, he did, and I’m so glad you brought him up and not someone else less helpful to the point I’m about to make here,” then lean over and gently suggest, “It’s probably also worth looking at the guy standing next to Segal at a lot of those premieres.” And next to other frequent collaborators like Seth Rogen, Apatow, and so many others. That guy, in this longwinded setup I’m clearly having too much fun with, would be Nicholas Stoller — who is easily one of the most prolific and successful comedy screenwriters, directors, and TV creators of the past two decades. Because of how much he’s made me laugh over the years, I was thrilled when he agreed to join me for one of my artist-on-artist conversations.
As for Nick’s work, I won’t list all his titles, as I don’t want to risk developing carpal tunnel syndrome typing them all out, but I’ll try to present an overview. In features, he’s directed Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008), The Muppets (2011), and Neighbors (2014) and co-wrote or wrote and directed Get Him to the Greek (2010), Neighbors 2: Sorority Rising (2016), and Bros (2022) amongst others. In TV, he’s created five series - two of which he co-created with his wife and sometimes writing partner Francesca Delbanco, “Friends from College” (2017) and “Platonic” (2023). In fact, I wrapped my artist-on-artist conversation with Nick just in time as Season 2 of “Platonic”, which co-stars Seth Rogen and Rose Byrne, was going into production. Oh, and I should add Nick also writes, directs, and creates family films and TV series because why the fuck not, right? These include Storks (2016), Dora and the Lost City of Gold (2019), and “Goosebumps” (2023).
I repeat, this is just a partial list. There really is too much to get into here.
Nick and I are going to discuss his backstory and approach to his craft both in terms of comedy and family films/TV, interrogate his broader oeuvre and how its themes have evolved, and go deep into one film in particular for no reason other than I really love it. For screenwriters at all levels, there’s much to learn here about how to use character conflict, humor, and personal experience to create deeply authored stories that move huge numbers of people. You might even say that this is Nick’s secret to making audiences so happy. When you’re done reading, go back and rewatch some of his work through the lens of what you’ve learned here. It all shows up on the screen, trust me.
COLE HADDON: You’re primarily known as a writer and director of film and TV comedies. In fact, your comedy roots go all the way back to university. But I’d like to really start this conversation by asking you about the last piece of art – in any medium – that made you cry for whatever reason.
NICHOLAS STOLLER: I love this question. My goal with almost every movie and TV show I’ve written and directed is to make people cry. The great magic trick is that you’re laughing and laughing and laughing, and then suddenly you tear up a little. Or you’re more moved than you thought you would be. I don’t know if I’m always successful – but that’s the goal. Or at least my goal.
Weirdly, the last thing that made me cry was an episode of “For All Mankind” where an American astronaut and a Russian astronaut are supposed to do a handshake in space. The mission is put on hold because of global tension between the two superpowers, but they go through with it anyway. I was taken aback by my emotional reaction to the moment. You know the whole episode they’re going to go against the directive and do the handshake – or at least you assume this. But it was surprisingly moving. I think because we’re in an unstable moment right now globally and this was a reminder that even something as superficially silly as a handshake in space can change global events. I love that show. If you haven’t watched it, I highly recommend it.
CH: I’m genuinely sad to say I haven’t seen it yet, but only because it’s one of those series that I’m 100% confident was “made for me,” as they say. My only excuse is that most of my TV time, without my kids around, involves my wife having a vote – big problem in our house. [Laughs]
I’m curious, you just described making people cry as one of your goals in your work - but have you ever managed to articulate a broader personal philosophy around what a Nicholas Stoller script, film, or TV series is? I ask because your filmography is deep at this point, extraordinarily so even for successful filmmakers, and I recognize a lot of common DNA I see between them beyond, say, casting choices.
NS: Thanks for calling my filmography deep! I recently saw myself described as “veteran comedy director,” which both made me feel established and old. [Laughs]
CH: I’ll go with accomplished.
NS: In terms of a broader philosophy around my work, I’m not exactly sure, although I recently have been able to shift from explaining my tone to people or the tone I’m going to hit in a certain film to just saying, “You know, it’s my tone.” I’m proud that I have only directed original comedies at this point. It didn’t start as a goal, but it has kind of turned into one. It’s not that I would never do IP or something like that, but for me, directing is all about expressing something personal. The films I tend to respond to the most are personal and of a piece. I think of Alexander Payne or Woody Allen or Nicole Holofcener or Lisa Cholodenko. They also tend to feature people talking to each other. They also are often built around a male-female relations or a romantic relationship. And I try to be as honest as possible because the more honest you are, the more relatable your film and, therefore, the funnier it is and the bigger laughs you get.
I used to make movies that were about a few years before in my life. But I’ve kind of run out of super personal stuff to write about, so now it’s obliquely connected to me, but still connected.
CH: Can you give me an example?
NS: I just wrapped a movie for Amazon I’m very excited about for Reese Witherspoon and Will Ferrell called You’re Cordially Invited. It’s about a double-booked destination wedding and all the insanity ensues. But for me, it’s really about my relationship with my kids and my parents and my siblings under many, many, many layers. I guess I would say my tone is, honest, human stories. You wouldn’t know it – I’m Jewish and from Miami and these are all Southern characters – but the emotional core is there.
CH: I wanted to ask about conflict in your work. Conflict is, it goes without saying, the key to great drama, but you, I’d suggest, are a bit of a master of the approach clumsily described as “somebody wants something, something stands in their way, and character is revealed in how they overcome that obstacle.”
NS: That’s a good way to describe drama. I had a huge realization a few years ago, which is all movies – and TV for that matter – are characters saying what they want and how they’re going to get it. Scenes are characters talking about what they’re going to do next. You can look at every movie ever made, and that’s what they are. And what they’re going to do isn’t an emotion or feeling – they want a specific thing and they’re going to get it. And without that, you cannot have a film.
Neighbors is the perfect example of Seth [Rogen] and Rose [Byrne] wanting the frat to move and the frat not wanting to move. Sure, there are a million emotional things happening under the surface of why they behave the way they do, but their wants and what they want to do about it are front and center. Every scene in that movie is characters talking about what just happened, what’s going to happen, and what is currently happening. I would argue this is true as much in The Godfather as it is in The 400 Blows as it is in Moonlight as it is in The Hangover. This is not a studio versus indie versus arty choice – this is how movies and TV fundamentally work.
CH: In your mind, is there any difference between how something like The Godfather is written and, say, one of your comedies? I’m probably specifically talking about features here.
NS: My movies are all structured as dramas. It’s the tone that makes them funny. But with a different tone they could all go sad or dark or scary. I’m trying to get at something fundamentally human in each of my movies. This sounds highfalutin for a comedy about a family fighting a frat. And yet, two of the most challenging moments in my life when I made Neighbors were when I graduated from college and when I had my first kid and emotionally they felt super similar. I was trying to draw on that when I made that movie. And I think it’s why that movie is super funny, sure, but it’s also touching, as well, and you feel for everyone in it. Are the stakes as high as those of The Godfather? I mean, obviously not. But they also aren’t inherently comedic. They’re dramatic.
You need conflict in your work otherwise it won’t be funny or interesting. It’s why I abhor misunderstandings. Misunderstandings often drive a lot of comedy or can drive a lot of comedy and I abhor it – you have to have characters who fundamentally disagree with one another or have desires that are truly at cross purposes to make a good comedy. At least in my opinion.
CH: What about miscommunication? How do you distinguish that from misunderstandings? I’m thinking of The Five-Year Engagement, which I recently rewatched with my wife as prep for this chat. Such a lovely, but also laugh-out-loud film. At the heart of it are two characters who love each other very much, but whose struggle to communicate honestly slowly blows up their relationship.
NS: That’s a great observation. There’s a huge difference between misunderstandings which is what drives a silly rom-com, and miscommunication which is when two characters due to differing backgrounds or upbringings or trauma cannot connect. Humans are social animals – we’re all always attempting to connect with one another. And sometimes we simply cannot due to character flaws that are often not our faults but exist nonetheless. A good film or TV show will excavate these flaws – a comedy will do it for laughs. With Five-Year, I was intrigued by what happens after the end of a rom-com. Okay, these two have finally fallen in love and gotten together – what happens now?
NS (cont’d): In Five-Year, Jason Segel and Emily Blunt enter their engagement unprepared for what life will throw at them. Unlike a traditional rom-com, their personalities aren’t at odds with one another. Like one isn’t too organized and the other’s a slob – they’re actually a great match. What Jason and I were interested in in that film was throwing all of life’s real obstacles in their way, and seeing how two well-meaning characters who were in love could completely fall apart and have nervous breakdowns. It makes it a bit more of a darker film than I think either of us intended, but it’s at least pretty real. Particularly for those in the academic world. The characters are trying to communicate with one another, but what they both want is in conflict, and so they can’t really be honest with one another and so they end up lashing out at one another with cheating and meanness. And they start out so sweet - this could happen to any of us! Then, they pull through and, by the end, once they have more life experience, they come out the other end a stronger couple than they were at the beginning.
CH: You just described it as a darker film than either you or Jason intended, but I have to say, that’s why the tone worked so well for me. It was a film that appropriately seemed at odds with its own genre in the way that you describe it as the aftermath of a rom-com. What happens next? You know, when the real collides with the Hollywood fantasy. My wife, who is a screenwriter, too – we talked about it afterward, and I observed it felt like the sequel to a beloved rom-com I’d never seen, but instead of the studio going bigger and louder and dumber with it, someone decided to get artsy and hire a screenwriter who hadn’t worked since their hit 1990s indie relationship drama. That’s my unnecessarily verbose form of high praise for what you two pulled off.
NS: Thanks so much! What’s funny is that Jason and I intended it to be a big studio rom-com. Like, I love indies as much as I love studio films, but the movies I’ve made are all intentionally going for that studio gloss. So, it was a surprise that it came out darker than we meant it to be. I mean, to be clear, I don’t think it’s dark at all. It just feels real to me. But real can seem dark, particularly if it has the gloss of a studio picture.
CH: Before we pivot into less craft-centric questions – though I’m sure more will come up as we chat – I want to ask one more question about The Five-Year Engagement. I’m sure you’re familiar with the screenwriting guide Save the Cat. I’m not a fan of these books myself, but one of the arguments in it is that you can make an expositional scene or one perhaps more conventional in its set-up more interesting if you change the dynamics of the scene in some unexpected, quirky way. The author uses putting the Pope in a pool to have a conversation that would otherwise be just talky-talky in the papal office. In Five-Year Engagement, Emily and Alison Brie – who play sisters – have a difficult relationship conversation in front of children who demand they use Muppet voices as they talk. Specifically, Elmo and the Cookie Monster. I mean, it’s fucking hilarious and Emily and Alison commit to it. Was this a case of the Pope in the pool when you realized the scene wasn’t going to work straight-forward? Because, if so, it’s probably one of the greatest examples of it I’ve ever seen.
NS: That scene fully came out of something our oldest daughter did who is now sixteen, but when I was shooting Five-Year, she was only four years old. She would insist that my wife and I do Elmo voice when we talked to her. And if we didn’t do Elmo voice, she would keep asking over and over until we did, and so my wife and I would end up having whole conversations with each other in Elmo voice. And it seemed like a hilarious premise for a serious scene. It was part of the scene from the get-go. But yeah, you’re right, you do have to make a comedic scene dynamic in some way. In comedy, it’s often called “the game of the scene”.
CH: So, let’s talk about your world outside of Hollywood. For example, I just discovered your brother is
– who I read a lot over at Substack. I don’t know how I never made this connection before. One writer in a family is remarkable enough without marriage being involved, so two are extraordinary. How do you account for this? I suppose what I’m asking is, what was in the water in your neighborhood growing up?