Making Period Films Feel Fresh

The Wrap recently sat down with the writers of three period films (Brooklyn, Suffragette and The Danish Girl) to discuss how to bring out the lessons we can learn from the past and how these films still matter today, despite being set decades in the past:

Nick Hornby, Brooklyn

Brooklyn is a movie of big emotions, but without the kind of big conflicts you’d usually find in a film like this. It’s delicate, emotionally.

I think that was the thing that we were all the most conscious of when we were making it–the delicacy. It’s interesting that there’s no baddie, really. In terms of the central characters, they are all lovely and they all want the best for each other, pretty much.

But I guess the truth is that the experience of living is extremely painful. The intense homesickness, which I have not seen done on screen before, is a big feeling that we all have. And loss, of course. So it felt to me like there was plenty in there without having that conventional structure of obstacle/opposition/whatever. How many of us have baddies in our lives, actually? I don’t have any in mine. A couple of critics, that’s about as far as it goes. And yet, life is difficult and sad and occasionally exhilarating.

Director John Crowley has said that it had to be emotional but not sentimental. Do you need sensitive radar to figure out where that line is?

I felt emotional when I was writing it, and it never occurred to me that it would be sentimental. I just felt the weight of the story and the sadness that was buried in the story as a sort of weight in my chest. I have no idea whether that affected the actual writing. It could have been merely hopeful, like playing a piece of music that you love and hoping that ends up in your writing somewhere.

I tend not to write sentimentally — it makes me feel yucky if I think I’ve done something that’s sentimental. But I knew that we wanted to be close in on this girl [Saoirse Ronan], and to feel everything that she felt.

As an Englishman, did you feel connected to this very Irish story?

I think we’re quite similar, really, the English and the Irish. Of course, the English didn’t emigrate in the same numbers, but in terms of what life was like in those decades, I think our experience wasn’t so different. I read the book and thought, “I can do this.”

Your first few books were about guys of a certain age, sports fans and music fans. But the movies you’ve written — An Education, Wild and now Brooklyn – have young female protagonists. Was that a conscious choice?

After the first three books, I thought, “I don’t know if there’s anything else I want to say about certain guys.” I hoped that I had some sort of long career ahead of me, which meant that I would have to write about everybody. And after I wrote An Education, I got a lot of confidence — or, at least, any fear about writing about a young woman was taken away.

Top 5 Ways You Can Wreck Your Characters

There are so many ways to screw up a screenplay and not having believable, well-written characters is one of them. Lucy V Hay of Bang 2 Write wrote a post about this:

5) … They introduce their characters badly. Whether screenplay or novel, your character needs to be introduced in an interesting and dramatic way.  When we meet your character for the first time – especially your protagonist – s/he should be preferably DOING something that:

a) Tells us *something* about him/her in terms of personality

b) Gives us a sense of the storyworld/the tone

c) Gives us *some clue* or indicator about the situation at hand

Yet too often we meet characters waking up, getting ready for the day ahead and/or eating breakfast; coming down the stairs or from another room (usually when someone yells for them); sitting in cafes or restaurants musing; or sitting in their bedrooms doing the same. LE YAWN.

This is nearly always because writers mistakenly believe that seeing a character in their home environment (or similar) makes us “care” about them. IT DOESN’T. It’s just dull!

Remember, readers make all kinds of assumptions not only from your very first page, but from your opening image too! Make sure you introduce your characters in ways we don’t see all the time to stand your best chances in the marketplace.

4) … They put too much tragic back story “up front”. This is an issue that seems primarily a screenwriting-related problem. I loved the following dialogue in the brilliant WRECK-IT RALPH, which I watched recently with my Wee Girls. For context, Ralph, a character from a platform-esque computer game, finds himself at one point “inside” a Call of Duty-style military game, under the orders of Calhoun, a hard-ass female sergeant:

RALPH: Jeez, she’s kinda intense, huh?

SOLDIER: It’s not her fault. She’s programmed with the most tragic backstory EVER.

In comparison to WRECK IT RALPH then, scribes DON’T play the notion of a tragic back story up front for laughs. Instead, the reader will have to wade through stories of child abuse; adoption/rejection; rape; bereavement; self harm and recriminations – all before the actual main story gets going. More often than not, this will mean going through an acre of flashback before the situation in hand kicks off, though sometimes there will be various arguments and/or a funeral, or even ALL OF THIS (yikes!).

Yet these huuuuuuuuge adverse life events are massive; to make them blithely “character building” feels like a slap in the face for the characters. Not convinced? Think about it:

“Oh my character has to deal with being held hostage in the bank where she works – BUT IT’S OKAY BECAUSE IN THE PAST SHE WAS ABUSED AS A CHILD, SO SHE CAN HANDLE THIS” —WTF???

Yeah, yeah ***of course*** writers don’t mean it this way; they’re trying to give their characters “layers” and make us “care” about them. I totally get that. But seriously, overly tragic back stories played up front are not the way. Characters’ reactions and the way they deal with what’s happening to them in the “here and now” tells us SO MUCH more than acres of flashbacks or expositional dialogue about their traumatic childhoods.

3) … They “back end” (quiet at the back) characters’ motivations. And of course,  as with most things writing-related, there’s an opposite end of the scale too: we don’t know what characters’  motivations are in the first instance, because writers are so busy trying to make us “care” about them, usually with various flashbacks to stuff that happened “before”. So we don’t know what the characters want, why they want it, or when by. Instead we end up finding this out in retrospect. As a result it’s difficult to invest in those characters’ journeys.

Sometimes this happens in spec novels too, especially those where the scribe is writing in the first person. I’ve noticed writers attempting Young Adult in particular can have this issue. What tends to happen is the scribe is so busy “setting up” the character and the world s/he lives in (especially a school environment), they forget to tell the reader what the story is *really* about.

2) … They introduce too many characters. Sometimes a screenplay or novel will have a plethora of characters, often to persuade us what a great or upstanding protagonist we have. We’ll see the protagonist interract with all kinds of people, in all kinds of ways, usually all positive. Aaah. Sweet.

BUT NO!

And before you say it: YES, technically novels can have as many characters as they want. But — and there’s always a but with me! — they need to have a reason to be present in the narrative. The reason can be anything the writer wants, but broken down, those characters need to relate to:

a) Plot

b) another character

c) arena (or storyworld)

d) theme

e) all of the above

Otherwise your characters simply float about randomly and the reader can’t “connect” with them. FACT. Sorry!

It’s the same with screenplays, but more condensed. Being much “shorter” than novels (both literally and figuratively), this is inevitable, yet many screenplays – whether feature length or TV pilot –  have what I call a “Mer De Noms” (sea of names). I simply can’t keep track of them all. This is usually because in addition to that sea of names, I can’t discern each character’s role function. More on this, next.

1) … They give characters No discernible role function. This is probably the top screenplay characterisation problem EVER and usually happens because scribes are so busy trying to persuade readers to “care” about characters, they forget *why* the characters are part of the story in the first place.

We all hear about “differentiating characters”, so many scribes spend a lot of time trying to make each one SOUND or LOOK different. And this is a good start. But sounding or looking “different” does not great characterisation make. Why?

Because great characters are what they DO. 

In other words then, the characters in your screenplay all have to DO different things in order to be “differentiated”.

For the above, they need a specific role function, ie:

Protagonist: Usually “for” the “main theme” of the story. 

Antagonist: Usually “against” the “main theme” of the story. 

With protagonists and antagonists in mind, it’s usual the protagonist drives the story, though sometimes it’s the other way round and the antagonist will instead. Occasionally, we will have a passive protagonist (especially in the case of the Comedy genre), but if this happens, another character (antagonist OR an important secondary) will usually “take the reins” and give them back to the protagonist in the resolution.

Secondary Characters: These guys can boiled down to this notion – they HELP or HINDER the protagonist or antagonist in their respective missions. 

From the above, secondary characters may perform very tried and tested roles like Mentor; Second In Command; Henchman; Love Interest; Best Friend; Comic Relief and so on.

Peripheral Character: These guys reflect the story’s intentions and/or facillitate the plot or (usually) the main characters’ motivations in some way (or the opposite). 

A good example here would be characters who are placed in the narrative simply to die as in the Horror genre, or war and disaster movies. Peripheral characters don’t have to die though; sometimes in Comedies and Thrillers a peripheral character may obstruct our protagonist in his/her mission, like the Jobsworth Official who won’t help, or a Police Officer who arrests the protagonist or turns them away.

Remember:

• Great characters come from great stories; they are inextricably linked.
• Good characterisation makes use of back story, but not at the expense of the “here and now”.
• Great characters have role functions/ a reason WHY they’re part of the story.
• Good characterisation is about a character’s reactions to the situation in hand.
• Great characters are what they DO.

Good luck!

Telling Everything Without Words

Everyone says not to use heavy exposition, but what choice is there? You have t get a certain amount of information across somehow.

Jennine Lanouette contends otherwise. She maintains that one does not even need dialogue to convey essential information and what’s more, she proves it in the following video, which talks about world building in The Road Warrior. It’s a fascinating glimpse into the possible.

Backstory for Dummies!

Dummies.com reallly does have a page for everything. They have one for screenwriting and it specifically covers backstory and the steps needed to establish one for a character.

Creating the Backstory For Your Characters  – from Dummies.com:

Most writers dream a little before they tackle writing their scripts. Actually, they dream a lot. Before you craft an environment, you want to know its history, its geographical location, and its condition. Before you write a scene between parents, you want to know what attracted them to each other, how long they’ve been together, how many children they have, and the like…

The ability to write complex events inhabited by complex people comes from knowing everything you can about why those events occurred and who those people are. The details you unearth may not all make it into your final draft, but they will add color and depth to the eventual script…

Backstory refers to everything that occurred in your story’s past. A character’s backstory may include family background, job history, psychological condition, and any memories you create for that person from childhood on. The backstory of a situation includes events that led up to it and a suggestion of why that situation’s occurring now.

Walter White’s past is suggested but never completely explained.

Elements of the backstory

You may find it helpful to invent your script’s history one section at a time. Just as detectives follow a certain line of questioning, so will you subject your story to an inquisition of sorts. Here’s a list of categories that you may want to consider in your search for a backstory:

• Convictions and beliefs: What are your character’s political, social, and economic views? Does your character have any theories on life in general or in detail? How did he or she come to feel that way?

• Education: Consider both formal education and acquired education in this category. Where your character went to high school may be as important as the three months he spent on the streets learning to play the drums.

• Family background: Invent your character’s family history, including the uncle she was named after but never sees. Friends are included in this category.

• Geographic location: Detail any environment that helped shape your character’s present circumstances. Create everything from the climate to the socio-economic make-up of the community to the carefully manicured lawns.

• Key past events: Virtually every main event in your story will be possible because of something that’s occurred in the past. What events led up to those in your story, and why did they occur?

• Past successes and failures: People are shaped in part by their best and worst memories. Knowing what your character’s track record is may be helpful in certain situations that arise in the script itself.

• Phobias: Your characters’ fears dictate what they avoid in life and, in some cases, what’s pushing them to succeed. Think specific and general; a fear of rose thorns may be just as compelling as a fear of commitment. The film Arachnophobia was fueled by the main character’s fear of spiders.

• Profession: How do your characters make a living? Do they enjoy working at the library, or are they biding their time? How did they get where they are?

• Quirks: What makes them unique, physically and psychologically? In Forrest Gump, the main character is compiled of odd characteristics, one of which is how fast he can run. The film A Beautiful Mind tackles one man’s battle with schizophrenia. A character’s quirks may propel your story forward.

• System of values: People differ in where they draw the line between right and wrong. What do your characters value most in themselves? In a lover? In a child? What types of behavior would make them ill?

• Talents: What has your character always been good at? Does he utilize that talent, or has it gone by the wayside? Perhaps your story starts on the day an opportunity arises for that talent to emerge.

• Time period: What part of history are you tackling? Whose history will you portray? Is yours a Civil War story or that of a future age? If you plan to flash between moments in your character’s life, how many moments and what were they?

Each of these categories suggests its own series of questions that you might answer about your story. Jot those questions down as they occur to you; you’ll undoubtedly return to them with each new person and environment you create. Although it’s impossible to highlight upon all that you discover in a single script, much of your story may come from the information you invent now.

12 Years a Slave features a story set in the 1850s.

Developing a screenplay through backstory

Imagine that you’re a tourist in a foreign country — you don’t speak the language, the people aren’t familiar, and anything might happen to you next. This experience isn’t unlike that of most movie-goers. They need someone to guide them through their journey and a guidebook to understand the importance of what they see along the way. You are their guide; the backstory is their guidebook.

A detailed backstory may be your greatest source of support as a screenwriter. It renders your characters unique and colorful, which will inform how they speak and behave throughout your story. It helps establish a clear world for your characters to explore and, therefore, provides the fuel for most — if not all — of the future scenes in your script.

Consider the information that you have: You’ve created a time period, an environment, and some character biographies. You may also have envisioned several situations leading up to your story’s main events. Your next step involves conveying those details to an audience that knows next to nothing about your story.

You can easily convey time periods and locations through costume, dialect, a lingering description of the landscape, or a caption alerting your audience that the story takes place in Paris, 1763. Past events and character traits are often more elusive. Although there’s no single formula for using this type of backstory to generate scenes, you may want to consider the following process as a way to begin:

1. Identify the detail that you want to develop. It might be an event, a trait, a location, a family member, or a friendship. Choose one element.

For example, your main character could have moved around constantly as a child and is, therefore, unable to settle down as an adult. That unsettled sensibility could be the detail in question.

2. Visualize three ways the detail manifested itself in the past. In particular, concentrate on what moments might reveal the detail to a stranger.

For example, you could envision your character as a child. She’s kept her bedroom decidedly blank, anticipating the next move. She fidgets constantly in school, often upsetting her classmates. She travels with an imaginary friend — the only constant in an ever-fluctuating environment.

3. Visualize three ways the detail manifests itself in the present. Every character exists in at least three roles during the course of a day. Your main character might be at once a mother, a neighbor, and a renowned biologist. Decide how the detail affects your character in several venues.

Julianne Moore in The Kids Are All Right has several roles: wife, lover,  and mother.

For example, you might imagine that your character is a marathon dater, unable to settle on any person for a length of time. She juggles three jobs at once, constantly dashing from one end of town to another. Although she’s lived in an apartment for a year, she has yet to completely unpack.

4. Decide which scenes might exist in your screenplay. Flag any scenario you visualized that will help an audience understand the story you want to write. If more occur to you along the way, jot those down, too. You’ll return to those scenes later when you begin piecing your screenplay together.

Not every piece of information you come up with will find its way into your screenplay. If you’re telling a Civil War story, you may concentrate on your character’s political history and ignore his family background. On the other hand, if your Civil War story centers on Abraham Lincoln, his upbringing might be important. The type of story you’re telling will dictate which details you reveal from the past. But remember, whether you focus on it or not, everything you imagine will enhance and strengthen your script.

“Does the character need to convey the information?”

David Mamet is an award winning playwright (Oleanna, Speed the Plow, Glengarry Glen Ross) and an award nominated screenwriter (The Verdict, The Untouchables, House of Games). His latest play, China Doll, starring Al Pacino, has just opened on Broadway, so it seemed like a good time to post some Mametian pearls of wisdom.

Mamet (In case that was not obvious)

“As obliquely as possible”

This is in reference to “the essential information of the play.” This information, Mamet says, is vital because otherwise the play does not make sense. “You want to give people information before they know they’ve been given it,” Mamet remarked.

“They’re just jabbering to try and convince you of something.”

Mamet agrees with Aristotle that character is action. “It’s not what they say, it’s what they do, what they’re physically trying to accomplish… Say someone came up to you and said, I’m glad to be your neighbor because I’m a very honest man…Well, you really don’t know anything about that guy’s character.”

“People only speak to get something. If I say, Let me tell you a few things about myself, already your defenses go up; you go, Look, I wonder what he wants from me, because no one ever speaks except to obtain an objective. That’s the only reason anyone ever opens their mouth, onstage or offstage. They may use a language that seems revealing, but if so, it’s just coincidence, because what they’re trying to do is accomplish an objective.”

“I don’t know.”

Speaking of work habits, Mamet relates, “It’s really not an intellectual process…I think the process of writing a play is working back and forth between the moment and the whole. The moment and the whole, the fluidity of the dialogue and the necessity of a strict construction. Letting one predominate for a while and coming back and fixing it so that eventually what you do, like a pastry chef, is frost your mistakes, if you can.”

“Circumstance”

This is what drama is about, Mamet says, just a set of circumstances. Tragedy is due to individual choice, however. “That’s why we identify with a tragic hero more than with a dramatic hero—we understand the tragic hero to be ourselves.”

In House of Sand and Fog, Jennifer Connelly and Ben Kingsley make bad decision after bad decision until practically everyone is dead or in jail.

“No”

The question was, have you ever considered putting in stage direction in your plays? It set off quite the quote:

” if you’re writing a drama, to get involved in it is kind of nonsense. It’s like, you read a screenplay and it says: BRENDA comes into the room. She’s beautiful, she’s sassy, she’s smart, she’s twenty-five, she’s built like a brick shithouse. This is the kind of girl that you’ll leave your wife for. When you see those deep blue eyes . . . I mean, you’re going to cast an actress and she’s going to look like something, right? Some idiot script-reader from Yale is going to get a kick out of what you’ve thrown in, but it has nothing to do with making the movie, because you’re going to cast an actress who will have qualities that are going to have nothing to do with what you made up. When you write stage directions—unless they’re absolutely essential for the understanding of the action of the play (He leaves. She shoots him.)—something else is going to happen when the actors and directors get them on the stage.”

“Does the character need to convey that information?”

Mamet is not a fan of unmotivated speech: “If the answer is no, then you’d better cut it out, because you aren’t putting the audience in the same position with the protagonist — I try to adopt that as an absolute tenet. I mean, if I’m not writing for the audience, if I’m not writing to make it easier for them, then who the hell am I doing it for? And the way you make it easier is by following those tenets: cutting, building to a climax, leaving out exposition, and always progressing toward the single goal of the protagonist. They’re very stringent rules, but they are, in my estimation and experience, what makes it easier for the audience.”

Check the whole thing out: Mamet Paris Review Interview

The 11 Laws of Great Storytelling

This is an interesting list of tips from Jeffrey Hirschberg and this article is an abbreviated excerpt from Jeffrey Hirschberg’s recently published book: “Reflections of the Shadow: Creating Memorable Heroes and Villains for Film and TV.”

Throughout my eighteen years of screenwriting I have read and analyzed thousands of scripts from writers of all levels, including screenplays from my students at Buffalo State College, Cornell University, Syracuse University’s Newhouse School, and R.I.T.’s School of Film and Animation.

During this time, I discovered 11 Laws of Great Storytelling – trends that tend to exist in many of the most memorable stories of all time. Of course, creating unforgettable heroes and villains is an integral part of all the Laws and should always be in the forefront of your mind as a writer.

So while it is impossible to have a foolproof objective formula for a great story, I have learned that if certain principles are followed, the probability of your story achieving a modicum of greatness increases dramatically.

With this disclaimer firmly in place, here goes:

1. Assume everyone has ADD

There has never been a greater truism in Hollywood. While I am guilty of playing dime store psychologist, one does not need a PhD in Clinical Psychology to conclude that audiences (that means us) tend to have short attention spans.

Now, we can argue there are certain external factors contributing to a population of diminishing attention spans (MTV, video games, text messaging, IM, and the Internet to name a few possible culprits), but it is safe to say that the attentiveness (or lack thereof) of the audience is directly related to its ability to make a successful emotional connection – and that connection must be made quickly, or you will lose your audience even more quickly.

Readers, like moviegoers, need to be entertained very quickly.

2. Spend most of your time on the first ten pages of your script

In Gladiator, we are immediately engaged as we are introduced to our hero – General Maximus – and the respect he commands from the Roman army. Add an action-packed, bloody opening battle to the mix, and we are sold.

In Pulp Fiction, the first ten pages of the script feature a restaurant robbery and the prophetic musings of two unforgettable hit men. The dialogue is fresh, imaginative, and unrelenting in its pace and originality. If you are a reader perusing the screenplay, you undoubtedly want to continue turning the page.

Marcellus Wallace, foot rubs and Royale with Cheese. The art of saying everything while saying nothing

When you are finished with your script, give the first ten pages to a group of friends or family you trust. Then ask each of them one simple question: “Do you want to read more?” If the overwhelming response is in the affirmative, you are on the right road to writing a memorable screenplay.

3. Write roles to attract movie stars

Create a memorable hero or villain and chances are you just might attract a movie star to your script. Why? Because characters like the heroes and villains featured in my book are unique, intelligent, and intriguing people with magnetism to spare. Who wouldn’t want to play Hans Gruber, Norma Rae Webster, Hannibal Lecter, Ellen Ripley, or Gordon Gekko?

You may also want to watch films that feature Academy Award-winning roles.

Movie stars can buy anything from Porsches to Picassos; they have adoring fans throughout the world who will wait for hours to get a glimpse of them; and they are told by sycophantic agents, managers, attorneys, studio executives, PR professionals, writers, producers, and directors that they are nothing less than the great Da Vinci reincarnated.

But, they cannot buy the respect an Academy Award affords them. So, if you can write a juicy role that will attract the attention of one or more movie stars, you just might find yourself in the midst of a studio bidding war.

REEEEEESPECCCCT!!

4. Write economically

Throughout my years of writing and reading screenplays, one of the most common mistakes I have experienced is “overwriting.” This phenomenon often falls into two categories: 1) verbose stage direction; and
2) “on the nose” dialogue.

Verbose Stage Direction

Keep your stage direction short (I recommend trying to keep each paragraph to less than five lines) and to the point. Never forget you are writing a piece of entertainment, and stage direction should entertain as much as it informs us as to the comings and goings of your characters.

“On the Nose” Dialogue

Several years ago, I sent a script to my manager and received notes including quite a few pieces of dialogue circled with the comment, “OTN.” I was perplexed and asked him to explain. He said these were several instances where my dialogue was too “on the nose.” The point is to make the audience work a bit for the information – not too much (we don’t want to frustrate them) – but enough for them to feel emotionally involved in your story.

5. Make sure every character has a unique voice

Movies work most effectively when they are populated with characters that are unique from one another. So, you should try to —

Avoid stereotypes
One of the problems I see over and over again with new writers is the depiction of characters who feel familiar and stereotypical. The key is to go against stereotypes, thus providing your audience with the refreshing read they crave.

Surprise us with quirks and unusual traits
Every once in a while, I’ll be sitting in a movie theater and suddenly I’ll discover something fresh and unusual about one of the main characters. It is that feeling of surprise we all desire and unfortunately, those moments are few and far between.

Create someone an actor will love to play
One can only imagine Julie Roberts’ reaction when she read the script for Erin Brockovich. It is simply not the typical role afforded to actresses in Hollywood. The hero of the film is a quintessentially strong character any actress would love to play. She is confident, bold, sympathetic, and has plenty of memorable monologues. It is a classic underdog story resulting in Roberts winning the Oscar in 2000.

Transform him/her over your story
Rick Blaine in Casablanca is a great example of a hero transforming over the course of the story. At the beginning of the film he confidently states his mantra, “I stick my neck out for nobody.” But, at the end of the film, he does just that – sticking his neck out for the woman he loves.

Make everything about his/her journey difficult
We love watching our heroes struggle. What would Raiders of the Lost Ark be if Indiana Jones immediately stumbled upon the Ark of the Covenant and brought it back to America? What if John McClane burst into the Nakatomi Christmas party and took out Hans Gruber and all of his henchmen in one momentous moment? And, what if Ellen Ripley easily discovered the Alien’s whereabouts as well as a surefire way to destroy the monster? Boring!

6. Understand your audience

When you are writing a screenplay, there are two audiences you should consider: 1) the readers, agents, managers, producers, and studio executives who will be reading your screenplay (aka, the buyers); and 2) the demographic you believe will be most interested in seeing your movie.

If your script is a comedy, it must be funny. If you are writing a horror script, it must be scary. Sounds like common sense? It isn’t. Talk to a professional reader and ask her how many comedy and horror scripts she has read of late that are actually funny and scary. “The comedy scripts are scary and the horror scripts are funny,” is the answer you just might receive.

Re: demographics: Hollywood studios like to categorize the world into four simple compartments, typically referred to as quadrants: 1) Male under 25; 2) Male over 25; 3) Female under 25; and 4) Female over 25. If you ever wondered why every Pixar film seems to make a billion dollars in worldwide gross and ancillary revenues, it is because the company excels at making Four Quadrant movies – films that appeal equally to males and females under 25 and over 25.

7. Know your three-act structure

Like it or not, Hollywood has a language all its own. Here is what buyers expect from your script:

1. By page ten, they want to be introduced to your hero, what he wants (his goal), and the genre of the story you are telling.

2. By the end of Act One (page twenty-five or so), readers want to know exactly where this story is going, including the stakes (What happens if the hero does not achieve his goal?) and the villain (The person, place, or thing preventing the hero from achieving his goal).

3. By the midpoint (the middle of Act Two, page fifty-five or so), readers like to feel that the stakes for the hero have been raised in some fashion. Maybe a new character has been introduced. Maybe a new obstacle or villain has reared its head. Maybe the hero has experienced a distinct character transformation.

4. By the end of Act Two (page ninety or so), readers presume your hero will be in a heap of trouble. Up until now, the hero may have been steadily moving toward achieving his goal. But at the end of Act Two, things have changed. He has suddenly been put in a corner and the audience is asking itself, “How in the world is he going to get out of this one?”

5. In Act Three, readers want your hero to somehow devise a new plan and escape from the mess that has presented itself at the end of Act Two. This is the big finish.

8. Be aware of theme, and keep it consistent throughout the script

Theme is a tough nut to crack. When I ask my students the theme of Die Hard, they often restate the film’s core concept (or, in Hollywood terms, the “logline”), saying something like, “It’s about a cop thwarting a group of international terrorists while saving his wife and a bunch of innocent people.” While this is true, it doesn’t quite touch on theme. I then dig deeper, suggesting Die Hard is really about a man trying to reconnect with his wife. True, this reconnection takes place amidst the backdrop of an action-packed heist, but at its core, this is a story about John McClane discovering the importance of family and the love and appreciation he has for his wife, Holly.

9. Watch and re-watch successful movies similar to your story

There is an old adage in Hollywood: They want the same, but different. Because the average studio picture costs over $100 million to produce and market, studios are in the risk aversion business every bit as much as they are in the movie business. The impact on you is that these buyers of product tend to gravitate toward the familiar – stories they think will have the best chance at attracting a global audience.

10. Know what your hero wants (the goal), what happens if he doesn’t get what he wants (the stakes), and who/what is preventing him from getting what he wants (the villain)

Think about some films you haven’t loved. I bet one of the reasons there was no love connection was because they failed to answer the questions above.

In Toy Story 2, Buzz Lightyear is the primary hero whose goal is to lead a group of toys to save Woody from being sent to a museum in Japan. The primary villain of the story is Al (of “Al’s Toy Barn” fame) and the stakes are simple: If our hero and his team do not achieve their goal, they will never see Woody again.

So well written, Buzz came back for the sequel

Jaws is another movie that quickly answers our burning questions. By the end of Act One, we know Police Chief Martin Brody (with the support of Quint and Hooper) is our hero, his goal is to kill the shark, the villain is the shark itself, and the stakes are: If Brody does not achieve his goal, more residents of Amity will die.

11. Leave them wanting more

This Law seems to be as ancient as showbiz itself. Yet it is just as relevant today as it was at the turn of the twentieth century. The Law is really about crafting a memorable, climactic ending that will forever be satisfying to your audience. An outstanding ending can often save a mediocre film while a mediocre ending can often ruin an otherwise outstanding story.

So, does your climax:

1. Feel like a big, fulfilling finish?
2. Reveal a significant character trait of your hero or villain?
3. Resolve the central problem established in Act One?
4. Contain a satisfying surprise?
5. Appear five to twenty minutes or so before the end of the film?

If your story accomplishes all of the above, you are on your way to crafting a memorable tale that will live on in the memories of your audience. Happy writing!

 

Writing Believable Action

This post comes from the folks at TSL, The Script Lab. Note: they define action as anything a character does. This is NOT a tip on writing a set piece for Transformers 6: Blowing Up Whatever’s Left.

Writing Believable Action

Recently, we were asked about the use of “false action”, which was described as forcing your characters to do something during dialogue because that’s better than having them just standing around.

We had never heard of this exact terminology used to illustrate action, but understood the concept behind it. However, not every concept is necessarily a good one, and this is never more evident than with writers guilty of applying this so-called “false action.” Big rookie mistake!

The word “false” is our first clue. When supporting points in an argument, for example, you wouldn’t use false logic (or fallacies) to illustrate your claims. Your audience would be skeptical of sweeping generalizations, jumping to conclusions, and non sequiturs, etc. Because your argument is based upon false thinking, you lose all credibility. “False action” works the same way: it’s forced and unconvincing.

The screenwriter’s job is to find believable action for the character to do, something that is not only plausible, but probable. You have so little time in a screenplay to create believable and dynamic characters. Wasting that time with “false action” is a sure fire way to lose your reader.

Chef is literally nothing but non stop sandwich-building action.

It’s true that characters should never be just standing around. Film is a visual medium after all, but if the dialogue doesn’t require action, find a reason to have the character interact with his or her environment and use the character’s body to show another part of his or her personality.

While your hero is lambasting his baby brother for wrecking his car, for example, have him whipping up his latest culinary masterpiece. Or while your heroine is reciting some great legal exposition, have her organizing her desk like a consummate OCD patient.

Whatever can show a glimpse into another part of their personality is what you’re after. Each moment is an opportunity to give more depth to your character; never waste it.

The Script Lab

More Screenplays Than You Could Ever Read

The website Go Into The Story has unleashed a cavalcade of screenplay links. Award contenders from the last four or five years and some from even earlier.

http://gointothestory.blcklst.com/free-script-downloads/

And this is a formatting guide from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.  www.oscars.org/sites/oscars/files/scriptsample.pdf

“The best way to learn how to write a script is to read as many scripts as you can, in as many formats as you can. As a beginning screenwriter, odds are you’re going to be writing a lot of spec scripts (short for “speculation,” or, in other words, free); if the spec script is sold, and manages to make it to production, then you’ll end up with a shooting script (which has been broken down by the script supervisor) and feature lots of details like CUT TO:, POV, and CAMERA ANGLES. This is the draft the crew uses to make the movie,” No Film School says, and this collection has plenty of both.

Award Worthy Screenplays

In the Internet era, most production companies that have screenplays that they think have a chance at a nomination, release them online, which is a great boon for screenwriters finally able to see several truly excellent screenwriters ply their trade. Here are some of those links for this year:

Grandma, by Paul Weitz

The Diary Of a Teenage Girl, screenplay by Marielle Heller, based on the graphic novel Phoebe Gloeckner

Infinitely Polar Bear, written by Maya Forbes

The Lady in the Van, screenplay by Alan Bennett, based on his memoir

Son of Saul, written by Clara Royer & László Nemes

Testament of Youth, screenplay by Juliette Towhidi, based on the autobiography of Vera Brittain

Truth, screenplay by James Vanderbilt, based on the book Truth and Duty by Mary Mapes

Room, screenplay by Emma Donoghue, based on her novel

Straight Outta Compton, screenplay by Jonathan Herman and Andrea Berloff, story by S. Leigh Savidge & Alan Wenkus and Andrea Berloff

Trainwreck, written by Amy Schumer

Legend, written by Brian Helgeland

Carol, screenplay by Phyllis Nagy, based on the book The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith

Woman in Gold, written by Alexi Kaye Campbell

Macbeth, screenplay by Jacob Koskoff & Todd Louiso and Michael Lesslie, based on the play by William Shakespeare

Slow West, written by John Maclean

Ex Machina, written by Alex Garland

The End of the Tour, screenplay by Donald Margulies, based on the book Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself: A Road Trip With David Foster Wallace by David Lipsky

While We’re Young, written by Noah Baumbach

Mississippi Grind, written by Anna Boden & Ryan Fleck

Remember, written by Benjamin August

 

Perhaps we should pick one and read it to figure out how the authors handle the plot points transitions, etc. What does the group think?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What I Look For: The Script Reader

(Ray Morton is an author and script consultant, but previously he was forced to slog through hundreds of scripts. These are tips he says can help us stand out from the pack.)

1. A Reasonable Page Count

The first thing Ray does when he gets a script is flip to the back and check the page count. Screenplays are to between 90 and 120 pages long. Any shorter and there probably isn’t enough story. Any longer and the screenplay either has unnecessary plot, too much description or camera moves. Either way, Ray practices his jump shot and chucks it toward the trash.

2. Something Interesting In The First Few Pages

Ray likes when scripts start with a bang. Something exciting, interesting, funny, scary, etc. needs to happen right away to hold his interest.

Scream has an amazing opening that hooks the viewer from page three

Very often Ray had to endure endless amounts of expository blather, giant blocks of description or first pages that look more like a novel than a screenplay (no white space).

3. A Clear Premise

A general’s family is murdered and he is sold into slavery as a gladiator. The stuttering second son of the king suddenly becomes king himself and has to give the most important speech in modern British history. A Hollywood hack whose career has dried up comes to Broadway to reinvent himself as an artist.

The premise, Ray says, is the central part of a dramatic film, and the audience needs to know it as soon as possible – no later than the end of Act 1. Ray states he has – more than once – been forced to endure 100 pages of backstory to set up a premise that pays off on page 110. Jump shot, trash can.

The premise also needs to be clear and there should be only one. Many new writers, Ray says, put two or three premises into their script with unfortunate results.

4. An Interesting Protagonist

They’re only the main character and likely to be in, at minimum, 98% of the scenes. It might be helpful if they weren’t boring. How to not be boring: give the character a clear goal whose actions in pursuit of said goal will drive the plot, Ray states. Meeting the main character as soon as possible is important as well – to avoid confusing the main and secondary characters – and getting their goal revealed as soon as possible so he knows where the story is headed.

5. A Worthy Antagonist

How do we know Clarice Starling is up to snuff? Because she tangled with the most dangerous, psychotic and intelligent bad guy of them all:

Voted the #1 movie villain of all time…You tell him the news.

If the character goal is to get ice cream and only a four year old can prevent it, that is not going to make for a compelling test. Ray says the antagonist must be a formidable obstacle and if a person then a colorful and interesting character – but not more colorful and interesting than the main character.

6. A Clear Conflict Between the Two

The conflict between the protagonist and antagonist must be clear so that it is evident why the two are at odds. The conflict must also escalate continuously becoming bigger and more intense, Ray says.

7. A Story That Develops the Premise

A good script is one in which the story springs from the premise and spins that concept out through three acts to a logical and exciting conclusion, Ray says. If your script is about a gigantic house that flies, then let’s explore that entire concept.

Technically, it is a castle: The script for Howls Moving Castle is a gem.

8. A Story That Brings a Fresh Twist to Its Genre

If the script is a genre piece, the story should incorporate all of the narrative elements that constitute that genre so that it will be satisfying, but to do so in fresh and interesting ways, so the piece won’t be predictable, Roy says.

9. A Plot I Can Follow

If I can’t understand your story, then it’s a good bet I’m not going to recommend it. Nuff said, Roy. Nuff said.

10. A Plot With Momentum

A narrative builds continuously from the inciting incident to the inevitable yet surprising climax.  That intensity is hard to achieve…if you keep stopping it for flashbacks, fantasy or dream sequences or asides, or if you allow it to get sidetracked by superfluous subplots, according to Roy.

Roy has more recommendations from his years of experience which you can find at the below link.

http://www.scriptmag.com/features/meet-script-reader-looks-for?utm_source=newsletter&utm_campaign=scr-jvb-nl-151126&utm_content=801219_SMN151126+Thurs+ScriptMag&utm_medium=email#sthash.372sq2oG.dpuf