I’m developing a treatment with a friend for a movie that centres on a close friendship, so figure that we should catch an example or two. Only, there’s something clearly twisted about my take on such things because the films that catch my attention in the local rental store are twisted hymns to dysfunctionality. Not quite the vibe we’re aiming for in our own attempt at the new Little Miss Sunshine.

The first is Ghost World, an adaptation co-scripted by Daniel Clowes of his own graphic novel, co-written and directed by Terry Zwigoff. Despite an appealing look and starring Thora Birch and Scarlett Johansson, it’s a film that doesn’t give up its pleasures easily.

The principle problem is the source material, and the arch and distanced take Clowes has on his characters. He observes with some accuracy but little empathy, as two high school girls prepare to take on the world and discover it isn’t how they wanted it to be.

There’s also an issue to do with change: Clowes is seemingly opposed to it, while most films traffic in transformation. This is addressed directly in a scene in which a curmudgeonly blues fan who’s been taken under the wing of a woman turns his back on the wider world she’s introduced him to. The character, played by Steve Buscemi, retreats to the narrow world of his obsessions, and you can’t help but feel that Clowes is chuckling as he flips the bird at Hollywood.

Somewhat disappointed, we next watch Chuck & Buck. Again I’ve misjudged my memories of the film, my co-writer correctly pointing out some half way through that it could easily be a horror movie. Scripted by Mike White, the film is a toe-curling tale of a man-boy who refuses to grow up, and tries to rekindle his friendship with a childhood best buddy who’s now grown up with a job and fiance.

We both squirm as the beautifully judged film takes us through exquisitely painful scenes as the twisted man-child stalks his former pal in Los Angeles, watching him have sex with his partner and hiring a theatre to put on a perverse account of their relationship with adults in the role of children. This really is naked and painful stuff, and it’s only a perfectly balanced resolution that stops it being one of the most awkward experiences of your life, the tenderness of the climax a blessed relief after the sheer torture of what comes before.

The performances are pitch-perfect, Mike White himself playing the child who hasn’t grown up, and Chris Weitz the equally complicit jock who has managed to move on in his life. Shot on DV, the film has a jagged and brutal look that suits its themes perfectly.

What has all this taught us given Vicki and I are developing our own treatment? While Ghost World doesn’t give equal weight to its protagonists — you never get as clear an insight into Scarlet Johansson’s character as you do Thora Birch’s — it does at least delineate them clearly.

Chuck & Buck meanwhile is a masterclass in exposing the undercurrents of a macabre friendship, and while the project we’re doing has none of its darkness, there are scenes when we need to portray a rift between the pals. Seeing how Mike White writes Chuck and Buck is a model in developing characters who have a shadow side to their relationship, and the better we can do that in our own tale the more impact the pals’ break up will have before they make up again.

Is it possible? A film with the twisted insight of Chuck & Buck and the cheery worldview of Little Miss Sunshine? It’s certainly worth a try. And aiming for it will give us something of note to aspire to. Watch this space.