A Close Divide - Screenplay Review
- Festigious
- Aug 22
- 3 min read
Jesse Dorian's "A Close Divide" is a bold and unsettling screenplay that pushes into difficult, taboo territory while maintaining a strong sense of authenticity. Set in Austin, Texas in 2011, the story follows Charlotte and her troubled older brother Trent, whose bipolar disorder shapes and strains their lives in disturbing yet deeply human ways.
The strength of the script lies first and foremost in its characters. This is something present in all of Dorian’s screenplays - his characters are always painfully real, deeply wounded yet layered, complex and multidimensional, at once repelling and drawing in the reader with their raw humanity. Trent is written with terrifying intensity, scary, unhinged, and dangerously jealous, but he is never reduced to a cliché. His vulgar remarks and aggressive behavior make him a constant source of tension - whether joking crudely about his sister (“Hopefully Charlotte is not getting gang banged without consent”) or belittling her partners by dismissively calling Ryan “what’s-his-face.” Yet the writing allows us to feel compassion for him as well. In one of the most powerful lines, Trent admits to Charlotte: “And the reason you have no idea what you're talking about is because you have no idea how much I fucking hate myself!” This balance of cruelty and vulnerability reveals the complexity of his inner world.
Charlotte, meanwhile, emerges as a figure of quiet strength and frustration. We see how her brother’s illness has stolen opportunities from her, yet her loyalty to him reflects the burden and complexity of family bonds. The introduction of Ryan, Charlotte’s new boyfriend and an aspiring family psychologist, adds both dramatic conflict and intellectual depth. His ability to confront Trent head-on, recognizing his illness, challenging his aggression, and ultimately earning Trent’s respect, creates some of the most memorable and gripping exchanges in the script. One such moment occurs when Trent threatens him: “I’ll cut your fucking balls off and feed them to you.” Instead of backing down, Ryan replies: “The only thing you’ll be feeding me around here is respect.” Trent’s reaction - “Damn, you’re good” - captures both his volatility and his surprising ability to respect strength.
What elevates "A Close Divide" beyond a character study is the consistency of conflict. Nearly every scene crackles with tension, whether through violent language, uncomfortable hints of taboo, or heartbreaking vulnerability, and much of this power comes from the dialogue itself. The conversations between Trent and Ryan are electric, blending threat with dark humor and exposing the underlying pain that drives Trent’s outbursts.
Just as powerful are Trent’s exchanges with Charlotte - not only in the explosive moments of shouting and confrontation, but even more so in the quieter scenes where their bond is tested in subtle ways. One of the most striking examples is the bathtub sequence, where Charlotte insists Trent remove his sunglasses and the two volley back and forth, “No.” “Yes.” “No.” “Yes.”, until he finally relents when she quietly adds “Please.” It is a moment that captures the screenplay’s strength: quiet, simple, yet devastatingly emotional.
The screenplay builds to a climax that is both powerful and surprising, leaving its characters irrevocably changed. By the end, we are left with a story that is disturbing but also deeply moving, a testament to Jesse Dorian’s ability to craft flawed yet fully human characters.
"A Close Divide" is not an easy read, but it is an important one. Through its fearless portrayal of mental illness, taboo desires, and the thin line between love and destruction, it challenges its audience to confront uncomfortable truths. Above all, it stands out for its honesty, emotional depth, and the courage to explore subjects many would shy away from.
Jesse Dorian's website: https://linktr.ee/jessedorian
