Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Lesson 25: Steal from a Master, Even If He Has Never Written a Screenplay in his life: A.J. Liebling, Between Meals
It should be blindingly obvious that before your screenplay becomes a movie, it is a piece of writing.
It should be, but it isn't. Far too often, I've read screenplays that were dense with ideas, or snappy with dialogue, or rich with character, or awe-inspiring with structure. But. They just didn't read well. Without the screenwriter to explain the screenplay's intention, the screenplay was flat. Some screenwriters are lucky enough to find a collaborator willing to translate their work. Some screenwriters direct their own work, and therefore can allow themselves to write in a secret code known only to them. But most screenplays go out naked into the world, and they must immediately make the connection with the reader, or die trying. And if they are not naked in an entertaining way, well....
Here's the deal: make your descriptions and transitions as fun to read as possible. There are lots of ways to up the fun quotient---screenwriter Shane Black (LETHAL WEAPON ad infinitum) was notorious for directly addressing the reader. In one screenplay, he cut to a sex scene--then refused to describe what happened, because his mom reads his screenplays. William Goldman loves to write in superlatives--the Biggest F-ing Explosion in the World, etc. (That's the kind of thing you need to do sparingly, unless your screenplay is about a special effects master.)
One of the best ways to pep up your screenplay style is to steal from a master journalist. Tom Wolfe was, and is, a master at setting a scene, and, most importantly, creating a conspiracy between himself and the reader. That is: providing the reader with a piece of information that will eventually pay off in a spectacular way--the literary equivalent of the bomb under the bed. Look at your screenplay and see where you might create that sense of intimacy with your reader. For a genius example of this with Tom Wolfe, read the first chapter of his The Right Stuff.
Farther back in the day, lived (and how he lived) was the New Yorker magazine's late great A.J. Liebling, fat man, boxer, and lover of Paris. About an abnormally thin boxer, Liebling wrote: "His torso was so narrow that his heart had standing room only." About a compliment he received from a woman long ago, Liebling remembered: "{It} is wrapped around my ego like a bullet-proof vest riveted with diamonds..."
Ah. Lovely. There are probably simpler ways to say both things, but probably not better. Now, you wouldn't use this style if, say, you were writing an episode of Law and Order. But in most cases, it applies. Isn't it nice to be memorable? And isn't it great when you make it to unforgettable?
It should be blindingly obvious that before your screenplay becomes a movie, it is a piece of writing.
It should be, but it isn't. Far too often, I've read screenplays that were dense with ideas, or snappy with dialogue, or rich with character, or awe-inspiring with structure. But. They just didn't read well. Without the screenwriter to explain the screenplay's intention, the screenplay was flat. Some screenwriters are lucky enough to find a collaborator willing to translate their work. Some screenwriters direct their own work, and therefore can allow themselves to write in a secret code known only to them. But most screenplays go out naked into the world, and they must immediately make the connection with the reader, or die trying. And if they are not naked in an entertaining way, well....
Here's the deal: make your descriptions and transitions as fun to read as possible. There are lots of ways to up the fun quotient---screenwriter Shane Black (LETHAL WEAPON ad infinitum) was notorious for directly addressing the reader. In one screenplay, he cut to a sex scene--then refused to describe what happened, because his mom reads his screenplays. William Goldman loves to write in superlatives--the Biggest F-ing Explosion in the World, etc. (That's the kind of thing you need to do sparingly, unless your screenplay is about a special effects master.)
One of the best ways to pep up your screenplay style is to steal from a master journalist. Tom Wolfe was, and is, a master at setting a scene, and, most importantly, creating a conspiracy between himself and the reader. That is: providing the reader with a piece of information that will eventually pay off in a spectacular way--the literary equivalent of the bomb under the bed. Look at your screenplay and see where you might create that sense of intimacy with your reader. For a genius example of this with Tom Wolfe, read the first chapter of his The Right Stuff.
Farther back in the day, lived (and how he lived) was the New Yorker magazine's late great A.J. Liebling, fat man, boxer, and lover of Paris. About an abnormally thin boxer, Liebling wrote: "His torso was so narrow that his heart had standing room only." About a compliment he received from a woman long ago, Liebling remembered: "{It} is wrapped around my ego like a bullet-proof vest riveted with diamonds..."
Ah. Lovely. There are probably simpler ways to say both things, but probably not better. Now, you wouldn't use this style if, say, you were writing an episode of Law and Order. But in most cases, it applies. Isn't it nice to be memorable? And isn't it great when you make it to unforgettable?
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Lesson 24: If You Are Going to Comment on Your Story, Make Sure Your Story Is Interesting in the First Place: American Splendor
American Splendor is a movie about Harvey Pekar, a file clerk in Cleveland, and accidental star by way of David Letterman, who makes comic books about his "ordinary" life. It is also a movie about making a movie about Harvey Pekar, who appears as himself in the movie, sometimes alongside the actor Paul Giamatti, who is sometimes alongside the various comic book drawings of Harvey Pekar. Holy Godard, Batman!
There are so many ways this shouldn't work, but it does. The filmmakers, Robert Pulcini and Shari Springer Berman, are old pros in the documentary world, and they know the Big Secret: if your basic story isn't entertaining, all the meta-commenting on it won't make it so. Harvey--whether he's real Harvey, actor Harvey, or comic Harvey--possesses a fierce drive to make his mark in the world, and, less obviously, because he is one of the biggest cranks captured on film, he wants to be loved. The filmmakers treat his needs with generosity and humor. The meta-commenting---which includes animation, mixing real footage with staged, interviews by the filmmakers, and a funny comic book coda--aren't gimmicks, but tools that organically express Harvey's quest to be understood, admired, and loved. It's a real achievement.
There seems to be a little explosion of these techniques lately, from Six Feet Under to any movie Charlie Kaufman puts his hand to, but the techniques aren't really new. Most of them are borrowed from (ahem) the theatre, and go back, oh, thousands of years. And there's sort of two truths about them. One is, if the effect is theatrical enough, the first time you use it, you'll wow your audience. But. If the effect isn't organic to revealing your character or advancing the story, the second time you use it, you'll bore them. ("Oh, no! He's not going to split his body in two to express his ambivalence AGAIN? I'm going out for Milk Duds!")
American Splendor is a movie about Harvey Pekar, a file clerk in Cleveland, and accidental star by way of David Letterman, who makes comic books about his "ordinary" life. It is also a movie about making a movie about Harvey Pekar, who appears as himself in the movie, sometimes alongside the actor Paul Giamatti, who is sometimes alongside the various comic book drawings of Harvey Pekar. Holy Godard, Batman!
There are so many ways this shouldn't work, but it does. The filmmakers, Robert Pulcini and Shari Springer Berman, are old pros in the documentary world, and they know the Big Secret: if your basic story isn't entertaining, all the meta-commenting on it won't make it so. Harvey--whether he's real Harvey, actor Harvey, or comic Harvey--possesses a fierce drive to make his mark in the world, and, less obviously, because he is one of the biggest cranks captured on film, he wants to be loved. The filmmakers treat his needs with generosity and humor. The meta-commenting---which includes animation, mixing real footage with staged, interviews by the filmmakers, and a funny comic book coda--aren't gimmicks, but tools that organically express Harvey's quest to be understood, admired, and loved. It's a real achievement.
There seems to be a little explosion of these techniques lately, from Six Feet Under to any movie Charlie Kaufman puts his hand to, but the techniques aren't really new. Most of them are borrowed from (ahem) the theatre, and go back, oh, thousands of years. And there's sort of two truths about them. One is, if the effect is theatrical enough, the first time you use it, you'll wow your audience. But. If the effect isn't organic to revealing your character or advancing the story, the second time you use it, you'll bore them. ("Oh, no! He's not going to split his body in two to express his ambivalence AGAIN? I'm going out for Milk Duds!")
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Lesson 23: What To Do When You're Stuck
Cary Tennis is a wonderful advice columnist on Salon.com. Here he gives some of the best advice ever about what to do when you've got writer's block. Because it involves coffee, I am especially fond of it.
Cary Tennis is a wonderful advice columnist on Salon.com. Here he gives some of the best advice ever about what to do when you've got writer's block. Because it involves coffee, I am especially fond of it.
