When the writer Niall Johnson first set out to create the story that was to become White Noise, he started with the idea that if it were possible to contact someone you had loved and lost, the average person would pursue these avenues even at great personal risk. The further he delved into background for his writing, he discovered that a fairly significant culture of EVP enthusiasts has existed for quite some time and is highly organized and scientific about its findings. Albert Einstein professed an open-minded view of the possibility that life has echoes through time and space and Thomas Alva Edison believed that electronic impulses could be passed on from generation to generation.
This basic premise took on a much more resonant life for the writer once he began to elaborate on it, surfing the Web and meeting some of the EVP gurus like the Butlers and Sarah Estep, whose research and findings helped Johnson as he constructed his script.
Producer Paul Brooks is no stranger to a compelling script, having executive produced the phenomenally popular My Big Fat Greek Wedding and been on the ground floor of what was (up until recently) the highest grossing independent film ever made.
Brooks remembers, “My brother brought me the script for White Noise around Christmas two years ago and I had planned to read a few pages after dinner and pick it up again the next morning. But I changed my tact once I opened it and began reading—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so disturbed reading a piece of material. It was fascinating. And I immediately saw it as an audience member would—it was a great page-turner and had a shot at being an intriguing movie. The particular landscape of the story was just so extraordinary. I have to admit that I became obsessed with it, which is my nature once I get into a really interesting script.”
Already in “terrific” shape, Brooks and Johnson spent a few months fine-tuning the script of the paranormal tale of Jonathan and Anna Rivers—during which time, the producer had caught the beginning of a contemporary re-telling of a towering Shakespearean classic. Says Brooks, “I saw the first seven minutes of Geoffrey Sax’s Othello, made for British television. I say seven minutes because I was so blown away by that first part of the movie that I hired him at the end of that first part of the film. We still have a running joke that I haven’t even seen the rest of the film!”
When he first read Johnson’s script, director Sax was not aware of any of this scholarly research—he just thought it was a good plot device. “Jonathan Rivers’ obsession comes from a quite simple premise,” he says. “What would you do if you were given the chance to contact somebody that you’ve loved and you’ve lost? That was the notion that really drew me to make this film, because what would you do? And I think that probably 99 out of 100 people would say, yes, give me more.
“Even if you knew, whatever the cost, say, to spend 30 seconds with that person whom you’ve lost, might you give a year or life? I mean, I don’t really know how far people go, but I certainly would do that for anyone I’ve lost. If I had a chance to contact them again, I would grab it.”
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