ScriptFaze

Merry Christmas!!

Hope everyone's happy and healthy--whether there's a Christmas tree in your day, or a marathon of movies at your local cineplex!

I'm gonna get back to imbibing myself here, but in the interest of sharing the holiday spirit, here are clips from my three favorite Christmas movies of all time:

The REAL Leading Lady

Every year in late February, those who can stand it find a couch to share or a party to crash, and drink their way through the three hours of misery also know as The Academy Awards. Yes—it has perks. The men are hot, the women are hotter, and goddamn it—someone might just surprise this year with their clever mocking of the official script! Thank GOD there are no reality-TV movies, and therefore no reality TV hosts to SABATOGE the Oscars the way they did the Emmys. At least Gil Cates has the good sense to keep hiring back Jon Stewart…

But here’s the thing—the Oscars reinforce the idea that the most important character in a movie is the HERO or HEROINE—the “Best Actor” or the “Best Actress.” This concept of the leading man and leading lady is reinforced in screenwriting classes and books, and the guiding principle in writing screenplays these days is think FIRST about how one’s hero should act and what information he or she should FIND OUT as the screenplay progresses. Once you’ve shaped the hero, the idea goes, all the other characters and character problems can be wrapped around this leading figure.

I suggest another approach.

Yes—the leading lady and/or leading man is important. They will guide your story, and getting them RIGHT on the page is hugely important. There is one person (or group of people), however, who are even MORE important to your screenplay’s success:

The AUDIENCE.

Yes—the VIEWERS. Or in the early stages, your READERS.

In this day of actor-financed movies and Oscar-vehicle screenplays, writers have focused less and less on the AUDIENCE, and more and more on attracting the movie stars that will get their scripts greenlit. And while I see the allure and practicality of this approach, the result has been a batch of recent movies that feel more like high-caliber acting reels than well-rounded films. Just watch Changeling, Seven Pounds, or Revolutionary Road to see what I’m talking about. All of these scripts provide ample room for actors to ACT, but have numerous flaws that could have been avoided had their creators spent more time thinking about the REAL central character of any movie: the people WATCHING it.

When I start into a script, I try to think about the audience AS THOUGH IT WERE A LITERAL CHARACTER. And in the same way that I shape reveals, withhold information, and design emotional highs and lows for my LEADING CHARACTER, I do this first and foremost for the AUDIENCE. The AUDIENCE is the character that matters most, and if writers treat the audience like the LEADING LADY it really is, more attention will be paid to DESIGNING the audience’s experience, and hence increasing their involvement and excitement in the movie.

Before you can write for your audience, however, you need to figure out exactly who your audience IS. Just as you’d flesh out the details for the hero of your screenplay, you need to know as much as possible about your audience. Watch other films in your genre, and if possible, analyze the marketing and packaging of these films. Are they targeted to 18 year-old boys, or 55 year-old women? An urban population, or folks in the Midwest? Once you know the demographic of your audience, try to imagine the IDEAL person sitting in that sitting movie theatre. Is it a college-aged male with a middle-class background who just broke up with his girlfriend? Or a 48 year-old single mom who thinks it’s too late to find new love? Getting as specific as possible will help you write to your audience’s emotions, and satisfy their expectations.

Finally—when starting a new screenplay, I suggest you prepare a “knowledge arc” for your audience in the same way that you’d create character arcs for your central cast. Moving scene by scene through your beat sheet, try to be as detailed as possible in deciding what you want your audience to KNOW, what misdirects you want them to BELIEVE, and most important—what EMOTIONS you want them to be feeling. Good screenwriting is all about manipulation—try to get as specific as possible about what you want your desired audience to be THINKING and FEELING at any given moment. When I’m moving through this process, I’ll often end up augmenting my beat sheet once I’ve finished with this knowledge arc—and only then do I start into the actual writing.

So give it a whirl! Some actor-centric movies work beautifully—The Wrestler and older movies like Taxi Driver and Dog Day Afternoon are great examples. But too often, screenplays are written without enough thought paid to the audience’s experience, and it’s a trend that has grown stronger in recent decades. I’m not suggested that writers create weak leading roles--on relegate their heroes to second fiddle. But I do think that the greatest leading characters work BEST when their stories are balanced against the equally-fantastic emotional journeys of their audience.

So—recast your leading lady and leading man! Johnny Depp and Kate Winslet are no longer your first priority. Focus on the audience, and you’ll end up with a script that feels less like a complex monologue, and more like a cohesive movie.

How to Explain Screenwriting to Your Family

‘Tis the season when struggling screenwriters across Los Angeles will pack their bags, board an airplane, and someday soon find themselves sitting in front of family members, trying to paraphrase what it is that they DO. And not just the writers—creative folk all throughout the industry come up against a wall when trying to explain their work to non-film folk in those towns we all left behind after high school. Most annoying, everyone thinks they understand Hollywood after last month’s Netflix-binge of Entourage, and everyone judges your success by one variable—money.

If you’re not knee-deep in Maseratis—you’re probably doing something wrong.  

Two months ago, I delved into this subject matter in the post What The Hell Is A Semi-Professional? But in these tough economic times, the issue is more pressing than ever:

What the DOUBLE-hell do we think we’re doing tapping out stories and sipping coffee all day in the middle of an economic MELTDOWN? I mean—seriously. Isn’t it time to give up the dream, roll up that six-foot Chinatown poster hanging over your bed, and finally move yourself back to Connecticut?

No.

Instead, you need to find a NEW WAY TO EXPLAIN SCREENWRITING to your family.

‘Cause let’s face it—the old ways aren’t working. If you try to explain to Cousin Jack that writing takes TIME, and that the film industry has never been harder to break into than it is TODAY—it sounds like you’re making up excuses. If you tell people your script is in development with a big company, they want to know WHEN it will be in theatres—and when you can’t give a day, you may as well draw a big fat “L” on your forehead. And if you’re suffering for CASH while scheduled pitches are being pushed to infinity and beyond—come on now. Is this whole writing thing really the best use of your time?

I’ve always appreciated Mark Twain’s quote on professional writing:

“Write without pay until somebody offers to pay you. If nobody offers
within three years, sawing wood is what you were intended for.”

It’s still true—except swap three years for TEN, and ‘sawing wood’ for ‘brewing coffee.’

The truth is, Hollywood has been INUNDATED by writers in recent decades, and even the most-skilled amongst us must overcome significant hurdles of time, money, and pride to get to the top of this industry. Read the post Hurry Up and WAIT to see my views on the role of PATIENCE in the lives of newbie screenwriters. But this is simply what’s required. The process is tedious, it’s difficult, and at times it’s no fun at all—but there are few writers now on top who did not first wind their way down this bumpy path. You WILL make it if you keep working—and all those delays, setbacks, and cash-strapped months will be little more than bricks on your road to success.

But what to tell the fam’ in the interim? 

Here’s my suggestion: Write down, and email a ‘progress report’ to everyone before you get home. Keep it short, and focus only on the positive. Use familiar lingo from Entourage, and avoid terms that require further explanation, such as “development,” “pitch” and “turnaround.” Use finite, easily-understandable phrases to describe any recent successes, and summarize what you do in a week. For example:

If you have a screenplay that has been optioned to a production company, is currently in development, but temporarily shelved while that company films a TV pilot in Hawaii, tell the fam’:

I sold a script, and it will be shot next year.

Or, if you sold a pilot pitch, and are just starting into the actual script with a year of development ahead of you:

I am writing a new show, and it will be shot next year.

Try to foresee people’s questions, and answer them in your email. When will it be shot? Aren’t you excited? What’s your screenplay about?

For instance:

Hello Family!

I’ll be seeing all of you in a few weeks, but I thought I’d write to you now and let you know what I am up to!

Things have been going great in Hollywood. I sold a movie script about a boy who can fly, and it looks like it will be shot next year. I’m also writing a new TV show, and hope to have it finished by this summer. In general, I spend about 40 hours per week writing, and another 5-10 hours in meetings. Otherwise, life is good—I’m still dating Sarah, and my dog Chuck is cuter than ever.

Can’t wait to see you—

Henry


Yes—some friends and relatives will see this email and want to know MORE. They’ll want to know HOW that boy can fly, and what your TV show is about. But by sending off this email up-front, you’ve setup those discussions on your own terms. You’ve DESIGNED the questions people are gonna ask, and can be ready to answer them quickly. No one’s asking you about the money, the development process, or what ‘turnaround’ means—they’re talking to you about the interesting stuff—the STORIES in your scripts.

So, that’s my two cents. If you’re already home for the holidays, it’s never too late to shoot off that email. Just push aside the cookie platter, plop yourself down, and shoot it out. Trust me—your family will feel INCLUDED in your life, and you will be off the hook for a stream of discussions you’d rather avoid!

When Drama Goes Rogue

 

Last week, I was watching Clint Eastwood’s newest flick Changeling—just sitting there, enjoying the movie, watching Angelina yell “I want my son back” for the umpteenth time—when suddenly, I couldn’t hold it in any longer:

I started to LAUGH!

Seriously.

It rose up out of me, and once the seal was broken it took several minutes to bottle it back up. By then, it was too late: The bug had spread, and others in the audience were now choking it back as well…

I felt terrible! I respect the austerity of movie theatres, and am always the first to turn off my cell phone—well before the digital popcorn man reminds me to do so.  And yet, here I was: Absolutely challenged not to bust at the seams at this quiet, ostensibly DRAMATIC part of the film. Something had happened. The movie had just undergone a TONAL SHIFT, and in one short moment—it had lost me.

It was a part of a scene that had clearly been improv’d on set, and not a product of J. Michael Straczynski’s original script (I hope). And I don’t blame Angelina, either—actors have a right to overindulge on set, and this was a moment that should have been edited out: As though reminding herself of why she was crying, Angelina went broken-record, and starting repeating, each time more demanding than the last, “I just want him back, I want him back, I just want my son back…” It didn’t work. It could have, but it didn’t. And in this moment, I knew we had just taken a detour from the roughhewed world of DRAMA, and had entered the murky waters of something far more treacherous:

MELODRAMA

The very word gives me the shivers.

There is a time and a place for melodrama—the time is 10am to 4pm, and the place is Lifetime Channel or the broadcast networks. It belongs nowhere else. In comedies, melodrama may also rear its ugly head—but the purposeful use of melodrama to induce laughter is something else instead. Self-aware melodrama shifts categories, and joins the well-respected genre of FARCE.

So what is melodrama? Why is it so nasty, and how can writers avoid it?

Simply put, melodrama is drama for drama’s sake. When a scene separates from its dramatic foundation, and lifts-off into a world of heightened emotion and strained interaction that seems out-of-sync with the situation inspiring these reactions, it has become melodrama. Interestingly, the term “melodrama” comes from the Greek words for “musical drama,” and was used to describe plays whose emotional beats were exaggerated by music. This exaggeration still defines the format. When the emotions and/or situations of characters in a movie start to feel pushed or bloated for dramatic affect, you have entered the land of make-believe known as MELODRAMA.

For writers, dramatic over-indulgence can be easy. Everyone wants their scripts to pack a punch, and what’s so wrong with having one’s characters cry, scream, pound on their chests, and EXPLODE INTO RAGE at life’s many injustices? 

Nothing. But you better make sure that the situations inspiring these events would REALISTICALLY create those reactions. Melodrama is created when a character’s REACTION to an event seems out of whack with the ACTION that initiated it. In Changeling, you would EXPECT Angelina to be sad and to lose control at her son’s disappearance. But at the point I started laughing, her son had already been gone for many months, and we had watched her break down MANY times already. With little new impetus, Angelina broke down into a torrent of tears that now felt uninspired by her situation, and included in the film only to make the audience feel her loss more intensely. The result was the opposite. Because her tears seemed exaggerated in the context of the scene, myself and others were sucked out of the story, and reminded in that moment that this was all just a movie.

Americans have a high-bar for melodrama. Our summer blockbusters often include scenes and characters that milk their emotional contexts for everything they’re worth.

But we also know when we’re being duped. Remember in the post-911 years when the Bush administration introduced a series of colored threat levels? ORANGE THREAT meant trouble, but RED THREAT meant totally heinous, serious shit was coming to a city near you! Well—after months of ORANGE THREAT LEVELS with virtually no televised terrorist action, people began to sense that the federal government was being a little sensationalist. And when the RED THREAT LEVELS returned (along with their heightened security and travel restrictions), Americans began to suspect that they were being duped. No matter what the reality behind the claims, when Americans started to feel like their emotions were being MANIPULATED, the DRAMA of the terrorist warnings had become MELODRAMA—and had lost their credibility.

Don’t let your script lose its credibility. You can have highly emotional, ratcheted-up scenes and characters, but you must also make sure that these reactions feel REALISTIC and IN CONTEXT to the situations inspiring them. Don’t push the intensity of your scenes so far out of alignment with your storyline that you risk losing your audience half-way through the film.

A movie is a contract. Once you have them in their seats, an unspoken promise is made to your audience that for the next two hours they can TRUST YOU to take the reigns on their emotions. If you break this contract midway through a film it’s near impossible to win them back.

MATT PELFREY: Problems Are Character

I asked MATT PELFREY, a Los Angeles-area writer, for his tips on CREATING CHARACTERS. Here's what he had to say:



He was a troubled young man. His father died, recently. His mother was set to marry his uncle. A ghost, perhaps that of his father, perhaps a demon trying to lead him astray, has told him his father was murdered by his uncle. Surrounded by enemies, unsure what to do: This boy has some serious problems.

Of course, I’ve just described Hamlet.

What distinctive traits are missing from his character in the description above?  His childhood dreams?  His relationship with his cat?  His favorite color?

Nothing.

The DNA of a character is locked in the character's problems.  By creating a set of problems (not all of them necessarily part of your main plot) you can create a complex character:


1.  His dog has been kidnapped.
2.  His brother is in jail.
3.  His father has Alzheimers.
4.  Someone is leaving threatening messages on his voice mail.
5.  He's just found out his boss is having an affair with his chief rival at work.


Now, let's give him a name:  Wayne Richards.  And a job:  Forest Ranger.

Wayne Richards, a forest ranger working in Northern California, has problems.  His dog has been kidnapped. His brother is in jail. His father has Alzheimer's. And if that's not bad enough, someone is leaving threatening messages on his voice mail and his boss is having an affair with his chief rival at work.

Now, just that little sketch starts to tell you things about who Wayne is. At the very least, it gives you material to start spinning off with. For all we know, none of the above character problems will even be connected to the main plot of whatever story Wayne finds himself in.

Problems insinuate depth and a life in progress.

Problems are a great tool to build the basics of a character.


Matt Pelfrey is the author of seven published and produced plays.  His work has been seen across the US at such theaters as the Actors Theatre of Louisville, 59E59 and Furious Theatre, where he is the playwright-in-residence.  He currently teaches undergraduate playwriting at UCLA.  Visit his website at www.bluntforcedrama.org.

It’s My Birthday!!

Remember when you couldn’t WAIT to get older? When a birthday was a bonified milestone on your path towards greater independence and adulthood? When getting older was something to BRAG about?

Hell—I still do. Getting older IS a milestone, and every year that passes I learn more, and become more capable as a writer.

The problem is that OTHER people in Hollywood aren’t as excited about my advancing age as I am.

In Los Angeles, people go through some pretty spectacular steps to fight the aging process—plastic surgery is often a LAST foray, proceeded by years of exercise, diet, makeup, hair dye, balding remedies and good old fashioned LYING. But why all the hoopla? Really—what is so terrible about GROWING OLDER?

To diagnose the youth obsession, you have to follow the money. When movies first hit the scene in the 1920s, all ages of people went to see to them, and hence, movies were designed to appeal to a varied demographic. After the 1940s, two things changed all this: First, America had made it through the depression and World War II, and for the first time in a long while, OLDER CHILDREN did not need to work to help support their families. ADOLESCENCE was born, and a thriving new market of teenagers with nothing to do and money to spend created a financial incentive for studios to begin catering films toward this audience. Second, TELEVISION found its way into the American living room, and despite the best attempts of the Hollywood moguls, they did lose a portion of their audience to this newfangled technology: the OLD portion. What resulted was a film industry preoccupied with the under-25 audience, and like it or not, it’s a trend that has grown stronger over time.

Today, any marketing guru will tell you that it’s the KIDS who are spending the money, and it’s therefore the KIDS whom movie studios must attract if they want to keep their balance sheets in the black. So, you may ask—what’s that have to do with screenwriters?

Well—in the twisted minds of most Hollywood executives, there’s an idea that young people are best marketed to by, well… Young people. And since most movies (and even TV shows, these days) are designed for the youth audience, it follows that being YOUNGER makes a writer more relevant and more marketable to the studios. This, in turn, is a point of view that has fueled an already beauty-obsessed culture, and created the problems with AGING that we all deal with in the film industry today.

So what does this mean for you—the up-and-coming writer?

Luckily for writers, looking young matters more when you are at the beginning of your career, when you still need to impress people and prove that your screenplays are right for the market. If you are able to establish yourself in the under-40 phase of your life, no one down the road will give a shit about your wrinkles so long as your past films have made money. You do, however, need to be AWARE of the youth-obsession in Hollywood and to DRESS THE PART. And if you can swing it, writing screenplays that cater to the under-25 market will advance your career a hell of a lot faster than that great idea you thought up for Cocoon 3.

Getting older is a part of life, and for me, keeping perspective on the fabricated drama of aging has allowed me to once again enjoy my birthdays rather than dread them. Getting older does not make you less capable, less intelligent, or less relevant; in fact, the opposite is usually true (excluding for Neil Young, of course). And while it’s natural to have some fears about aging, always remember the words of a young philosopher named Aaliyah when she spoke that wisened phrase:

AGE AIN’T NOTHING BUT A NUMBER

Choose... But Choose Wisely

One of the most important decisions screenwriters must make is WHICH PROJECT TO WRITE. Great characters and great dialogue can overcome most any obstacle -- but not a broken concept. New writers in particular often get excited about a great scene, or a great hero, then charge ahead into a story only to find themselves at a figurative dead-end. Experienced writers too make the mistake of thinking they can "write their way out" of story trouble-spots, but choosing a weak, faulty or woefully cliché concept is a problem much better fixed UP FRONT, before the first word of a new screenplay is written.

Picking the "right" concept for your next script is never easy -- it's a constantly moving target, and one that will require some serious soul-searching and a little research. The most important rule of thumb is NOT to go with the very first idea you have. It may be great. It may even be the best idea anyone has ever thought up for a script. Even then, you should WRITE IT DOWN on a list and tuck it away for a few days until you can review it with some perspective (see the post: Midnight Genius). Use these days in waiting to BRAINSTORM other ideas, and see what else spills out of you. Some ideas will suck, and some will be damn good. Other ideas might STRENGTHEN your original concept, or change it into something else entirely. That's OK-this up-front work is worth the effort, and will save you WEEKS of agony down the road when you have to start dealing with the shortfalls of your initial outline. While brainstorming, let the DAM FALL--challenge yourself to think up the WORST film you've ever heard, or to outline a storyline in a NEW GENRE, or area of difficulty for you. Brainstorming is a wonderful exercise, and a hugely important step in crafting a compelling script.

Once you've narrowed your list of likely ideas down to just a couple, consider each one carefully. You may have thought up a whole new twist on Indiana Jones-but is this really a script you want to spend the next two months or two years focusing on? This is important. In the past, I've thought up and even beat-sheeted projects for scripts that I know others would love to read-action films with exciting twists and marketable characters. But in the end, I had to ask myself: Is this really something I will ENJOY writing? Or am I drawn to this idea simply because it has commercial appeal? Sell-ability can be a consideration, but must never be the main consideration in choosing your next project. The story must ignite your passion, or else you risk losing your momentum for the project early-on. Yes --writing is fun, but it's also A LOT OF WORK. Never embark upon a project that doesn't tickle you deep down, or you'll waste time, and ultimately end up with an un-finished or uninspired screenplay.

After picking a story that EXCITES you, you need to ask yourself a few questions: First, is this a screenplay concept with enough inherent conflict to support a feature script? If not, go back to the brainstorming session. If the answer is yes, ask yourself: Is this also a project in which my main character will be allowed to substantially CHANGE? A changing hero is the backbone of any good movie, and you don't want to start into a script with a main-character that is stuck in one place. Third: Is this a concept that will work ON-SCREEN? Many times, new writers will get excited about a story that is better suited to novel or short-story writing. Close your eyes and try to VISUALIZE your movie. What do you think? Will it work as a film, or should you save this particular idea for next Spring's New Yorker submission? Finally (and perhaps most annoyingly), you need to ask yourself: Is this a concept that is right for the times?

Picking a project that is right for the times may seem counter to the "go with your gut" model for choosing your next screenplay, but filmmaking is a BUSINESS, and you don't want to spend months of your life working on a script that will NEVER GET MADE. To decide if your project is right for the times, start by asking yourself: Does this feel like a project that could play in theatres THIS YEAR and attract a modern audience. A modern-day Casablanca may sound pretty cool, but I'm not so sure that a 2008 audience will have attention span for a expatriote World War II club-owner that they did in 1942. You may need to UPDATE your concept, or cast it aside altogether if it is wholly mismatched to the contemporary market.

If you feel your concept is indeed right for the times, you now need to do a little RESEARCH. Get on IMDB, wikipedia, or other film databases, and double check that: a) a film with your EXACT concept has not been made within the last three years, and b) a film with a SIMILAR concept has not been released to the public that LOST a substantial amount of money. Surprising, step-B here is more important. Remakes are making up a greater and greater share of release schedules these days, but NO ONE wants to make a movie that reminds viewers of a recent flop. It doesn't matter if your script about a firey-skeleton biker is the freshest, coolest twist on this concept anyone has ever read-they already made Ghost Rider, and it was a disaster. Any forays into similar subject-matter will not be read, and passing out a script with obvious parallels to a box office wipe-out will make you appear amateurishly out of step with industry trends.

So, there you are -- go forth and conquer, but be sure to start your screenplay off on the right foundation. A poorly thought-out, weak or generic concept cannot be overwhelmed by good writing-it will always be there, lurking below your well-shaped characters and witty dialogue. Spend some extra time BEFORE YOU START, and you'll not only wrap up your next script sooner, but the process itself will be a far more joyful ride...