Tuesday, May 27, 2003
Lesson 15: Relish the Unexpected
In the classic thriller Three Days of the Condor, Robert Redford plays a CIA employee who reads books for a living, siphoning out the plots of thrillers and comparing them to actual CIA activities. When Redford gets too close to the truth, his entire office is murdered, and he goes on the run. Along the way, he kidnaps a woman, played by Faye Dunaway, who believes some of what he says, but not all. It is pretty clear to Dunaway, a lonely, sharp-eyed photographer, that Redford is soon to be a dead man. The chemistry is intense, and they have desperate, frenetic sex.
The next morning, Redford tells Dunaway he has a plan. But he'll need her help.
Dunaway smiles slightly, and says, "Have I ever denied you anything?"
It's a beautiful line, because we don't quite expect it. It's a funny line in the middle of a tense situation. And it's a line which manages to describe what happened the night before.
And--not so coincidentally--it also moves the plot along.
Sure, Faye Dunaway could have said, "Yes, I'll help you." Or: "What do you need?" But that would be mediocre writing. And you don't want to be mediocre, do you?
In the classic thriller Three Days of the Condor, Robert Redford plays a CIA employee who reads books for a living, siphoning out the plots of thrillers and comparing them to actual CIA activities. When Redford gets too close to the truth, his entire office is murdered, and he goes on the run. Along the way, he kidnaps a woman, played by Faye Dunaway, who believes some of what he says, but not all. It is pretty clear to Dunaway, a lonely, sharp-eyed photographer, that Redford is soon to be a dead man. The chemistry is intense, and they have desperate, frenetic sex.
The next morning, Redford tells Dunaway he has a plan. But he'll need her help.
Dunaway smiles slightly, and says, "Have I ever denied you anything?"
It's a beautiful line, because we don't quite expect it. It's a funny line in the middle of a tense situation. And it's a line which manages to describe what happened the night before.
And--not so coincidentally--it also moves the plot along.
Sure, Faye Dunaway could have said, "Yes, I'll help you." Or: "What do you need?" But that would be mediocre writing. And you don't want to be mediocre, do you?
Tuesday, May 06, 2003
Lesson 14: Embrace the Ordinary, Then Blow It Up
Yesterday was a pretty typical day: my husband and I were in desperate need of socks. So I took our laundry down to our condo’s laundry room—only to find the two washers crammed with somebody else’s laundry. The dryers: ditto.
Because I was a reasonable woman, I let a couple of hours pass until I dumped out the laundry—careful not to let any of it drop on the floor. I got my laundry done, while marveling at someone who couldn’t be bothered to leave a note apologizing for the laundry he or she left behind.
But what the laundry leaver DID leave behind was the seed of a story. What kind of person would leave laundry behind? Why would he doing it? What kind of laundry was it? What kind of life does the person lead that he underestimates either his time or his quarters so that the laundry just gets left?
These are small questions, to be sure. But what if, say, I hadn’t just needed socks—I couldn’t live without them? What if the person who left the laundry behind isn’t just a little careless or having a rushed day—but is, a la “Pacific Heights” or “Single White Female,” a truly Bad Neighbor? And what if the fact that I scooped his laundry out of the washers and dryers is some kind of Final Straw?
Many movies, both thrillers and comedies, have been ignited with less. In the film Changing Lanes, all it takes is rushed lawyer Ben Affleck refusing to trade insurance cards with Samuel L. Jackson to bring each of their lives into (necessary) crisis. In the film Meet the Parents, a common-as-dirt occurrence—the temporary loss of Ben Stiller’s luggage---creates so many problems for him that it nearly kills him.
So, the next time the UPS guy doesn’t show up when you expect, or library lists one of your books as overdue, when you know you brought it back in plenty of time, ask yourself: How Big Could I Make This? And how could you combine this mundane catalyst with a crisis large enough to make it movie material?
Yesterday was a pretty typical day: my husband and I were in desperate need of socks. So I took our laundry down to our condo’s laundry room—only to find the two washers crammed with somebody else’s laundry. The dryers: ditto.
Because I was a reasonable woman, I let a couple of hours pass until I dumped out the laundry—careful not to let any of it drop on the floor. I got my laundry done, while marveling at someone who couldn’t be bothered to leave a note apologizing for the laundry he or she left behind.
But what the laundry leaver DID leave behind was the seed of a story. What kind of person would leave laundry behind? Why would he doing it? What kind of laundry was it? What kind of life does the person lead that he underestimates either his time or his quarters so that the laundry just gets left?
These are small questions, to be sure. But what if, say, I hadn’t just needed socks—I couldn’t live without them? What if the person who left the laundry behind isn’t just a little careless or having a rushed day—but is, a la “Pacific Heights” or “Single White Female,” a truly Bad Neighbor? And what if the fact that I scooped his laundry out of the washers and dryers is some kind of Final Straw?
Many movies, both thrillers and comedies, have been ignited with less. In the film Changing Lanes, all it takes is rushed lawyer Ben Affleck refusing to trade insurance cards with Samuel L. Jackson to bring each of their lives into (necessary) crisis. In the film Meet the Parents, a common-as-dirt occurrence—the temporary loss of Ben Stiller’s luggage---creates so many problems for him that it nearly kills him.
So, the next time the UPS guy doesn’t show up when you expect, or library lists one of your books as overdue, when you know you brought it back in plenty of time, ask yourself: How Big Could I Make This? And how could you combine this mundane catalyst with a crisis large enough to make it movie material?
Saturday, May 03, 2003
Lesson 13: Perform Time and Motion Studies
This is a writing 202 exercise.
Take an existing piece of your screenplay where there is some action and some dialogue going on. Let's say your two lead characters, Romeo and Juliet, are checking out library books while they argue about whether they should tell their respective families that they are dating. And there's no line at the library. Unless we have a snappy librarian, or a breakdown in the computer system, or a terrorist at the library, this is not a long discussion, and your dialogue should reflect it.
Does the discussion you've written track, time-wise, to the action you've described? Have you written 10 minutes of dialogue with only ONE minute of action to match it?
Granted, you say, the director will change things, add things, subtract things. But it is the duty of a good screenwriter to learn about How Long Things Actually Take. One of the easiest ways to do this is to sample different parts of your screenplay, and actually read the dialogue aloud AND perform the actions you have commanded your characters to perform. If dialogue and action are really out of sync, your screenplay isn't finished yet.
Knowledge is power, even if you don't use it. Are your characters, say, experienced steelworkers? Spend some time in the mill. Not only will this give you confidence, it will give you ideas, story points, little bits of truth that will make your finished screenplay all the more juicy.
Special thanks to Scott Zachek for this tip.
This is a writing 202 exercise.
Take an existing piece of your screenplay where there is some action and some dialogue going on. Let's say your two lead characters, Romeo and Juliet, are checking out library books while they argue about whether they should tell their respective families that they are dating. And there's no line at the library. Unless we have a snappy librarian, or a breakdown in the computer system, or a terrorist at the library, this is not a long discussion, and your dialogue should reflect it.
Does the discussion you've written track, time-wise, to the action you've described? Have you written 10 minutes of dialogue with only ONE minute of action to match it?
Granted, you say, the director will change things, add things, subtract things. But it is the duty of a good screenwriter to learn about How Long Things Actually Take. One of the easiest ways to do this is to sample different parts of your screenplay, and actually read the dialogue aloud AND perform the actions you have commanded your characters to perform. If dialogue and action are really out of sync, your screenplay isn't finished yet.
Knowledge is power, even if you don't use it. Are your characters, say, experienced steelworkers? Spend some time in the mill. Not only will this give you confidence, it will give you ideas, story points, little bits of truth that will make your finished screenplay all the more juicy.
Special thanks to Scott Zachek for this tip.
