Robert Benton

The English Patient. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Captain Underpants. Like so many classic films, Kramer vs. Kramer started out as a book.

Kramer vs. Kramer, written by Avery Corman, hit the shelves in 1977, but movie exec Richard Fischoff already had a copy. He saw the story's potential as a big screen drama, and passed the novel along to Stanley R. Jaffe, a bigwig producer with Columbia Pictures (source). Jaffe was sold. All they needed was somebody to turn the novel into a script.

That's where Robert Benton comes in. Almost a decade earlier, he'd been nominated for an Oscar for co-writing Bonnie and Clyde, and Jaffe tapped him to adapt Kramer for film.

Look Who's Talking

Benton's script is noted for its attention to the subtleties of dialog. Here's how legendary film critic Roger Ebert described Benton's work in his 1979 review:

His characters aren't just talking to each other, they're revealing things about themselves and can sometimes be seen in the act of learning about their own motives. That's what makes Kramer vs. Kramer such a touching film: We get the feeling at times that personalities are changing and decisions are being made even as we watch them. (Source)

When Benton's characters speak, they sound real. As Ebert notes, they're dynamic; they're evolving as they navigate the narrative, and we can tell by what they say and how they say it. Benton's dialog provides insight into Ted and Joanna as human beings, and their reactions to the situations in which they find themselves are detailed and richly observed.

Those situations are also detailed and rich observed, for that matter. Take the scene where Ted and Billy have breakfast in silence, for example. We know it's been several months since Joanna left and Ted made some terrible French toast; we can tell by the Halloween and Christmas cards from Joanna taped up on Billy's bedroom wall.

In the kitchen, Billy sets out two plates and a box of chocolate doughnuts. Ted brings over milk, juice, and two glasses. Then Ted and Billy read silently: for Ted, it's the newspaper; for Billy, it's a comic book. It's not an awkward or tense silence; it's a comfortable silence that updates us on their relationship status quickly, in detail, and—bonus points—with doughnuts instead of dialogue.

With a Little Help from My Friends

The success of Benton's screenplay is mostly the product of his talent as a writer, but it's also due, at least in part, to the fact that he wasn't afraid to ask for help during Kramer vs. Kramer's production, which was frequently cray—er, we mean stressful—mainly due to Dustin Hoffman's Method acting antics, like slapping his co-stars.

At the end of the film, Joanna delivers a big monologue in court about why should she get custody of Billy. Benton didn't like what he wrote. He felt that it sounded too much like a man trying to write what he thought a woman would say, so, on the second day of the film's shoot, he asked Meryl Streep (Joanna) if she'd take a crack at it.

Benton had already changed the character of Joanna quite a bit. In Corman's novel, she's distant, detached, and more interested in tennis than her family. Her motives for leaving are muddy. Her reasons for coming back aren't much clearer.

When it came time to shoot the court room scene—Joanna's big shot at getting her kid back—Streep turned in her new speech to Benton who was like, "Uh, what's all this then?" He'd completely forgotten that he asked her for notes. Whoops. Fortunately, her rewrite was solid. In fact, in Benton's opinion, Joanna's monologue from the witness stand killed. Tearily, she repeated:

"I'm his mother."

But the word that slayed Benton was "mommy." "I could have never imagined writing that," he said. No longer the aloof tennis addict of Corman's novel, Joanna now had a vivid inner life, full of yearning and tenderness and regret. (Source)

On Oscar night, the entire script killed. Benton brought home the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. He also scooped up Best Director, and the film won Best Picture (amongst several other trophies). Benton's dialogue had heart, and after Oscar night, his shelves had two shiny new bookends.