Credits include The Little Vampire, Chicken Run and James and the Giant Peach.

A version of this interview was originally written for and published on the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy movie web-log. Karey Kirkpatrick kindly gave his permission for the interview to be reproduced here and added some new questions for himself about the filming period.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Interview with Myself

I decided to interview myself because a) I think I’ll be harder on myself and know what sort of questions an interviewer might ask and b) no one has asked to interview me. And why should they? Who am I? Not Douglas Adams is the answer that concerns most people. So with this in mind let’s proceed. Here are some of the questions I imagine most fans of the book (and the radio series and the TV series and the Infocom game) are asking at this point.

Who the hell are you and what gives you the right to muck around with this treasured piece of literature, you American Hollywood hack?

Ah. Good one. Yes, I can see why a lot of people might be wondering this. So let’s see …

I gave Jay some of my thoughts, pointed out some structural and thematic concerns, and much to my surprise, he agreed with most of what I was saying. And when I told him of my “I’m not worthy” moment, he said, “I think you’re perfect for it and that attitude will probably help you.” And the more we talked about the project, the more excited I became. I mean, how can you not get excited talking about poetry as torture or nuclear missiles that turn into a sperm whale and a bowl of petunias? Assignments like this don’t come along every day. Actually they never come along. So after pitching my ideas to the Disney and Spyglass executives and Robbie, who was there on behalf of Douglas’s estate, I got the job and started writing in September of 2002.

What gives you the right to decide what stays and what goes, you formulaic chicken-writing bastard?

Hey, let’s keep it clean. My mother will probably read this.

To familiarize myself with the material, I thought it best to go back and become acquainted with it in chronological order. It started as a radio play. So I was sent all of the radio plays on CD. I would listen to them in my car, and for those blissful fifteen to twenty hours was actually oblivious to the deeply loathed LA traffic. It was while listening to those radio plays that I first heard what was actually the opening to The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, which was a Guide entry that started “The story so far …” It goes on to summarize what happened in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and I realized that was what the script needed. That one summary expressed some ideas and themes more clearly than the screenplay did. And suddenly, it became clearer to me what the script was missing, and I suddenly had some hope that I might be able to fill in some of the missing pieces.

My goal in the writing was to be like an editor on a feature film. If an editor has done his job well, you don’t feel his or her presence. That was my aim here. I thought, if people read this script—especially people who knew Douglas or knew the material well—and can’t tell the difference between what I created and what Douglas did, then I will have succeeded. I was never trying to put my stamp on this material or bring my “voice” to it (whatever the hell that elusive thing is).

So … what exactly did you change? More importantly, what did you think was worthy enough to add?

That’s a hard question to answer because it depends on whether you are comparing the final shooting script to the book or to the screenplay that I inherited from Douglas. If you compare it to the screenplay, then the answer is that I added very little. One of the things I really admire about Douglas is that he was willing to keep The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy an organic evolving entity. While reading the various drafts and familiarizing myself with the history of Hitchhiker’s, I noticed that most of the incarnations seemed to contradict themselves. Douglas had a very refreshing lack of faithfulness to himself, so since The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy was in a constant state of revision by its creator, I felt a certain amount of freedom to continue carrying that torch, mostly with the new concepts, characters and plot devices that Douglas had already created. Naturally, there were holes that needed to be filled so some new material and dialogue was required. But I was always going to the source material to find the right voice and tone.

Was this a tough adaptation?

I finished my first draft just before Christmas 2002. It was 152 pages long.

152 pages!? What did you do next?

I played dumb to the studio. “What? You think that’s long? Compared to Lord of the Rings it’s a short!” They weren’t buying it. So I started the painful process of cutting. And I didn’t want to cut any of it. Didn’t know what to cut. Sent it to a couple of writer friends and asked “What should I cut?” And they each said, “I understand your dilemma. IT’S ALL GOOD!” And it was. I give a huge chunk of the credit to Douglas, obviously, because I was mostly rearranging, tightening and enhancing his existing concepts. And the studio was very excited about the first draft. They felt I had created a structure that finally worked. It was just too long.

First drafts for a screenwriter are usually the easiest because you don’t have any notes from the studio and there is nothing but hope and possibility ahead of you. And in this case, I didn’t have the blank-page problem because, as I mentioned, I had such excellent source material.

It was during the trimming-down phase that I found myself facing what had been the dilemma that prevented The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy from becoming a feature film for the last twenty years, and this dilemma can be summed up in the words of an executive on the project (who shall remain nameless because … well, because I’m not that stupid). He said, “We aren’t going to make a $90 million cult film.” And I get that. I understand. If I had turned in a draft that could be made for $15 million, they would have more or less let us do what we wanted. But everyone knew the budget for this movie was going to be, at the very least, $50 million. And when that kind of money is on the line, those who are putting up the money tend to want a film that will appeal to as wide an audience as possible to ensure some return on their investment (and rightfully so). But it put me in the position of being the servant of two masters because on the one hand I desperately wanted to make sure that the integrity and distinctive sensibility of the book was being maintained, but on the other I wanted to be fiscally responsible to those signing my cheques.

Again, I found myself going back to Douglas’s drafts, which were much shorter than mine. He cut much more mercilessly than I did, so I felt I had some leeway there. Mostly I had to cut a few of the Guide entries with the assurance that they would end up on a DVD someday in the future. And what’s great about the Guide entries is that they are somewhat modular, so final decisions regarding them can be made after filming is complete and the movie is assembled.

What did you do when Jay Roach decided not to direct and who the hell are those Hammer and Tongs guys?

I’ll be honest. One of the main reasons I got into the project was to have a chance to work with Jay. Mutual friends had told me we had similar temperaments and sensibilities and that it would be a good match, and they were right. Jay was an invaluable collaborator on the outline and first two drafts. He put in a lot of time with me, and the script wouldn’t be the success it is without his involvement. So I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was feeling a bit gutted when he decided this wasn’t the best film to make his next.

But Jay gave the script to Spike Jonze and Spike said he couldn’t do it but he knew the perfect guys and he suggested Hammer and Tongs. And when I got the call that I was to have a conference call with said Hammer and said Tong, I asked the question everyone seems to be asking—“Who are they and what have they done?” Needless to say, it wasn’t of much comfort to find out they had never directed a feature. And I didn’t get a chance to watch their commercial and music video reel before the call (because my DVD player wouldn’t play UK Region 2, but I digress), but when I heard that they wanted to talk to the writer before talking to anyone else, I thought, “Hey, these guys are either very cool or very naive. Don’t they know screenwriters are but a fly on the ass of this business?”

To this day, however, I am embarrassed to say I still don’t know which one is Hammer and which one is Tongs.

Quit being so vague! Give us specifics, damn it! What’s in the movie and what isn’t?

Sorry to say, I will continue to be vague. I really don’t want this to turn into a “what Karey did versus what Douglas did” situation. By Douglas’s own admission, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is a story with a long beginning and then an ending. There isn’t much middle. And movies need a middle. So most of the new material comes in the middle. Douglas created much of it. I took what he did and enhanced, expanded and connected (much like a Wonderbra—and this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been compared to that miraculous contraption).

More has been made of the Arthur–Trillian relationship and the Arthur–Trillian–Zaphod triangle. Douglas knew, as I know, that in order to make a feature film bankrolled by an American studio that is to play on the global stage there needs to be a certain amount of attention paid to character, character relationships and emotion. The trick here is doing that while staying true to the spirit of the book, which is what I hope we’ve done. It’s fine if there’s a bit of a love story, it just can’t be sentimental and sappy.

Do you consider yourself to be in the Mister Friggin’ Lucky Club?

Yes. Definitely. This was a unique assignment for me because it became more than just a job. Actually, all of them are more than just a job because as one famous quote goes, “Writing is easy, you just open a vein and let it pour onto the page.” I always feel I do a bit of that on each project (yes, even Honey We Shrunk Ourselves—a small vein maybe, but a vein nonetheless). But this one was different. This became a quest: a quest to do the memory of Douglas Adams proud. And that has been the attitude of essentially every person who has joined this production (except for the accountants, who say they want to do the memory of Douglas’s accountants proud, but hey—whatever works). Never before have I been involved with a project where everyone seems to be aiming for a higher cause, which is great because it means egos get checked at the door. Each time the film enjoys some form of success along its way (getting a director, getting the green light, attaching cast, etc.) it is always bittersweet because we’re happy to see what was Douglas’s lifelong hope becoming a reality, but deeply saddened that he can’t be here to enjoy it with us.

I think fans will be pleased and I trust new fans will be created in the summer of 2005.

What is your favourite line from the book?

Tough question. So many great ones. Many of my favourites from the book are actually in the prose, like Easter really meaning small, flat and light brown or the passage about Hooloovoos, which are super-intelligent shades of the colour blue. How did this guy think up this stuff? Amazing. I read lines like that and I am humbled and awed.

Most of my favourite lines of dialogue, however, are said by the Voice of the Guide or the narrator. I love the passage about Vogon poetry and the Azgoths of Kria and how, during a recitation of a poem by Grunthos the Flatulent, four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. That just cracks me up every time I read it (and as of this date, it’s still in the movie). I also love the Babel fish entry and how it proves the non-existence of God and I love all the Oolon Colluphid titles (Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God’s Greatest Mistakes and Who Is This God Person, Anyway?).

In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, there’s a passage about the Vl’hurgs and their commander being “resplendent in his black jewelled battle shorts.” Black jewelled battle shorts? Who thinks up this sort of thing? I love it.

What was the hardest part about adapting the script?

One day, I found myself addressing a note from the studio to “clarify the concept of the Infinite Improbability Drive.” As if it was something that actually existed and thus needed clarification. And sadder still, I tried to clarify it and soon discovered how little I knew about laws of probability.

Actually, Garth and Nick and I spent an entire day sitting poolside at the Four Seasons Hotel in Los Angeles discussing the Infinite Improbability Drive and how to make more sense of it and better use of it as a plot-driving device. This was tough because what I always assumed about the IID was that it was basically a plot-contrivance machine. Writers are always struggling with contrived plots; the old “would this really happen?” problem. And I thought this was yet another stroke of brilliance from Douglas to create something that allows a finite probability to become an infinite improbability—all at the touch of a button. It’s a contrivance-justifier machine.

Each time we tried to clarify the IID, we’d look through the script and say, “It’s in there, isn’t it?” By lunch, we moved from coffee to wine and the IID concept was gaining clarity. By late afternoon, when we moved from wine to more wine, we had deduced that we were, in fact, brilliant and that the script was flawless. So we decided to go with the “less is more” theory and left the script alone. And then we had more wine.

Garth Jennings (Hammer? Tongs? Your guess is as good as mine) sent me a note once that said, “When Zaphod first comes out of the temple and is approached by well-wishers, the banana alien on the mole-horse needs to replace the multi-headed groupie.”

You just don’t get notes like this every day.

You’ve established you can write for chickens, but can you write for real people?

We’ll see. Fortunately there aren’t many “real people” in this movie.

Give it to us straight; is the movie in good hands?

Yes. Very. From the top down. Everyone has been very supportive. From Nina Jacobson and Dick Cook at Disney to Roger Birnbaum and Gary Barber, Jon Glickman, Derek Evans and all the folks at Spyglass to Jay Roach (now producing) to Robbie to the directors to the crew—everyone is just really excited about how unique and wonderful this film can be. This is one of those rare films where everyone seems to be on the same page. Even the agents! From Douglas’s long-time agent in London, Ed Victor, to his film agent in LA, Bob Bookman, who has seen this film through many an incarnation. I recently saw Ed at a party and he said to me three simple words that made my day, actually made my last two years. “You nailed it.” I could see the relief in his eyes because people like him have been waiting a long, long time for this to finally come to fruition.

I’ve recently returned from London where I spent two weeks rehearsing with the actors and making last-minute script tweaks (they were so great, so accommodating and so very enthusiastic about the material). I had to return home just before shooting started but have been told the first week was a blazing success.

I started knowing little about this wholly remarkable book and have become a devoted fan. In my dreams, everyone will be happy with it. I know this isn’t possible, but I feel really confident about the work we’re all doing.

Most importantly, I think Douglas would be pleased.

If he isn’t, may I be nibbled to death by an okapi.

Amendment to Interview with Self

So, Karey, now that filming on The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is complete, is there anything you’d like to add about your thoughts and experiences during production?

Oh, I would love to, Karey. Thank you for asking. Actually, I can sum up my feelings about how the production went in three simple words.

I wasn’t there.

What?? Shocking!! A big-time Hollywood writer such as you wasn’t allowed on set??? Do I smell scandal?

So I stayed home and adapted Charlotte’s Web. But I have a contact in England who’s shipping me bootlegged copies of EastEnders.

How did it feel when those actors wanted to change your lines?

Alfred Hitchcock once said that actors are like cattle. To me, actors are more like the North American woodchuck. Perky, excellent climbers, good teeth. They’re also quite good with dialogue (I’m talking actors now, not woodchucks), so when an actor suggests a line change, I welcome it with open arms. Unless, of course, the line sucks.

None of these actors suggested sucky line changes. Sam Rockwell seemed to want to add “all right” to every second line. And not as a question, more as a sort of nervous addendum. Example: “Let’s go to Magrathea. All right.” “Hit that drive button. All right.” Sort of an Elvis additive. And that worked out … all right. Martin Freeman kept saying, “You know, if Ricky Gervaise were here, he’d write the line like this”—and that just wasn’t necessary. So I told him Tim in the American version would probably be better than him. Mos kept wanting things to be more “poetic.” Curse you, Russel Simmons! Zooey told me I was really in touch with my feminine side and ever since I’ve been watching more football and have sold all my Bette Midler CDs.

How many hours of rewrites did you have to do?

Not many. The read-through revealed the script to be in pretty good shape. Most rewrites were done on the spot while we were working the various scenes.

I did do one fun exercise. For all of the scenes between Arthur and Trillian, I wrote two different versions. In one I replaced the dialogue with the subtext dialogue. In another, I wrote (in dialogue form) exactly what the characters were thinking, which they spoke out loud before delivering their actual lines. It actually turned out to be very helpful.

Isn’t that fascinating? I think it’s absolutely riveting. I asked Garth and Nick to include that on the DVD. Their response? “Hmm. Let us get back to you on that.” So I wrote out the subtext of their response and here it is.

“Dream on, wanker.”

So, how’s it looking now?

I think—and I say this with all humility—that it may very well be one of the best films ever created. It is beautifully shot, masterfully directed and exquisitely acted.

Then again, I haven’t actually seen it so I might not be the best person to ask.