Why This is Good

On Friday I gave my take on Dear John, and I hope it helped guide some of your movie-watching choices over the weekend. I’d like to give a quick update on the other movies I watched over the past two weeks in keeping with my New Year’s resolution. For the first six movies I watched this year, see my post from Jan. 21.

The next set were: Inglorious Basterds, When in Rome, A Clockwork Orange and Dear John.

Inglorious Basterds-As is becoming my habit, I’m embarrassed that it took me so long to see this amazing film. I had it on my list to rush out and see the day it came out but somehow didn’t manage until recently. I’m so pleased to see such a great example of Quentin Tarentino’s brilliance on display once again. I sometimes think he is overrated and is idolized too much by film buffs and students, but when he puts out something this good, his genius is undeniable. The story is fascinating, the acting superb and the use of dramatic irony to create intense tension and suspense is incredible. Check out my post on Talking Heads for more on this.

When in Rome-I love a good romantic comedy, but this was just an adequate romantic comedy. It tried hard, but suffered from a silly premise and clichéd rom-com devices that bordered on corny. Once again we have an over-worked, cynical, ridiculously successful ingénue (so successful that, to my utter horror, she could afford to toss aside her beautiful cerulean blue satin Christian Louboutin’s as if they were some cheap Payless knock-offs) who can’t and doesn’t even want to find love until her baby sister marries.

I was amused by the antics of the men under the spell of the fountain fawning over, stalking, and harassing poor Kristen Bell (especially Danny DeVito) but I didn’t feel quite enough chemistry between her and Josh Duhamel to really enjoy the story. They try hard, but fall short of creating a truly memorable love story. It’s good for a few laughs, and the reunion cameo of Napoleon Dynamite and Pedro is a cute touch, but this movie overall will be remembered (or forgotten) as another mediocre romantic comedy.

A Clockwork Orange-Sometimes I think Stanley Kubrick is just a pervert who we’ve all mistakenly dubbed a genius. There are parts of this film that fully support my theory, and other parts that hold him up as a great. Of course, we can’t blame Stanley for all of the perversions in this adaptation, but we can give him credit for crafting such an intriguing, if utterly disturbing film. The direction certainly helps make this film great, but the story is also a huge part of its success. Considering how avant-garde this film is supposed to be, it does use a fairly traditional plot and story structure that presents a fascinating moral question and an interesting examination of a possible future dilemma.

I’ll admit it, I’m a sucker for a good tear-jerking Nicholas Sparks adaptation. A Walk to Remember and The Notebook will have me bawling no matter how many times I’ve watched them.  And although the Oscar-nominated Crazy Heart was playing at the same time and I knew it would probably be a better film, the teenage girl in me opted for Dear John. I was fully prepared to fall in love along with the beautiful Amanda Seyfried and equally gorgeous Channing Tatum, and bawl my eyes out when some tragedy tore them apart. While some might fault Sparks for being sentimental and melodramatic, I appreciate that he is not afraid to examine the illnesses that are a reality for many people. His works can be a little formulaic, and Dear John was no exception. As Walk to Remember dealt with cancer and The Notebook with Alzheimer’s, Dear John focused on Autism. The bravery and honesty with which it was portrayed, notably by Richard Jenkins as John’s aging father, was the best part of the movie, but it didn’t save the film overall from its major flaws.

As with his other adaptations, Dear John presented us with another pair of attractive young people torn apart by outside forces bent on destroying their pure, amazing, incredible love. In this case it was the war that took dear John away from Savannah’s loving embrace.  The story was less predictable than I predicted, but sadly the acting was so horrible that I couldn’t bring myself to shed a single tear. Channing Tatum is gorgeous but he can hardly speak, his acting so wooden he could give Pinocchio splinters. While Amanda Seyfried is stunningly gorgeous and possesses possibly the most beautiful pair of blue eyes ever made, I couldn’t help but see a bit of the vacancy she displayed in Mean Girls poking through in this performance. I won’t go so far as to say they had no chemistry, but I will say their passion fell flat and I didn’t feel the love in the way I was expecting to, and because of that, this film failed to draw out a single tear from someone who can tear up after viewing a mere commercial featuring a soldier returning home to a loving family. This is Nicholas Sparks, it should have left me bawling. And it wasn’t just me. I heard more snickers than sniffling from the teenage through sixty-something women in the audience around me, and for that reason alone Dear John was quite a disappointing failure.

One criticism you may run into is that you have a lot of “talking head” scenes. This means that you have a page or more of non-stop straight dialogue-usually just two characters talking back and forth. This is generally considered bad screenwriting, although it is something most new writers do with abandon.

One reason so many attempt this at first is that it is very prevalent in books and stage plays. What works on stage or in a novel usually doesn’t in a screenplay. Films are visual mediums, and so they should utilize the wide array of features available to the filmmaker, not limit themselves to dialogue. In a play, it makes sense to have characters simply sit, or stand, and talk back and forth. This is how plays deliver information and tell the story because they are limited in terms of location. Even the biggest budget Broadway production will only have a few different sets, and so the actors often have to talk about things rather than showing them happening. There is no ability to cut to a scene, a person, or a shot of something to explain it. There are no close-ups to reveal something small or a detail or clue. Facial expressions and emotions are also more exaggerated in stage plays than in films. Actors know the difference is huge, and writers must as well.

Another reason why new screenwriters fall back to the talking head trope is that many writers are excellent at writing dialogue. They have a great ear for how people speak and they have crafted unique, exciting characters with interesting voices and perspectives. The dialogue sounds beautiful, melodic, poetic in their ears and the writer falls in love with their own talent and brazenly displays this talent on page after page of back-and-forth witty, beautifully written dialogue. But, again, since film is a visual medium, dialogue is the most inefficient and un-cinematic way to tell a story on screen. In nearly every case, it is better to show us what is happening than to tell us.

I know you’re about to comment: “But my favorite movie is Pulp Fiction and it is incredibly dialogue-heavy! How can you say that Quentin did something wrong?” The short answer is that you’re not Quentin Tarentino (and if you are and you’re reading this blog, awesome, please tell your friends!). Until you are, you can learn something from the advice of others and you should stick to the rules until you make it big.

The long answer is that Quentin Tarentino has a gift for creating intense dramatic tension. He can use a lot of dialogue and still craft an exciting, visual story. Tarentino never just uses talking heads. His characters are always on the move and doing something. He uses the dialogue to prolong the tension and as an ironic backdrop to the events that are happening. When Pumpkin and Honey Bunny are discussing robbing the diner, we feel anxious because we know that at any moment they’re going to whip out guns and hold up the place. It’s also ironic and funny how sweet and cutesy they are with each other when immediately followed by their extremely violent outburst. When Jules and Vincent are discussing cheeseburgers, it’s tense because we can already tell these two are bad-asses on their way to something nefarious. When they arrive and shoot up the apartment, the fact that they were calmly discussing France only seconds before is not just ironic, but reveals how often they perform violent acts-they are so blasé about it and used to it that it doesn’t bother them a bit and they can go from inane chit-chat to shooting people with ease. In this way, Tarentino is showing us what their characters are like in a far more effective way than if he told us in the action description. Their conversation also sets up the idea that messing with Marsellus Wallace’s wife will get you in a world of hurt, and that fact is what sustains tension throughout all of Vincent and Mia’s discussions.
The same is true of Butch and Fabienne’s conversations. We know Butch is a hardened, tough fighter, but seeing him be so syrupy sweet to Fabienne makes him loveable, offers contrast, and creates tension when we know he has to get his watch before things go terribly wrong. All of these conversations could be talking-head scenes except for the fact that they are used to create irony, contrast and dramatic tension. You’ll also notice how rarely the characters are just sitting and talking. Usually they are on their way somewhere or doing some sort of small action while speaking.

Tarentino uses the same brilliant technique for creating tension in Inglorious Basterds, another extremely dialogue-heavy film. Again here he is using the long-drawn out dialogue to build tension. As Hitchcock explained, having a bomb under the table can make the mundane act of two people having breakfast extremely tense and suspenseful. The audience knows it is there and is anxiously anticipating its explosion. This is exactly why so much back-and-forth dialogue still works in Inglorious Basterds. Once we see the Jews hiding under the floorboards, we worry intensely through what would otherwise be a boring conversation between Hans and LaPadite. When Shoshanna later talks to Frederick, or Hans, we are worried that they will discover she is an escaped Jew, so their dialogue is full of anticipation and fear. In the bar scene when the Basterds go to meet Bridget, we worry the entire time that the Nazis will uncover their plot and realize who they are. This tension sustains the length of the conversation and makes it far from a talking-heads type of scene.

In both When Harry Met Sally and 500 Days of Summer, there is a lot of back-and-forth dialogue between the two principal characters. These films do not seem too talky because they keep the characters moving. The characters never just sit and talk, they are always doing something interesting, in a new place, or walking around. Any movement or action is better than two characters just sitting in a dull setting and speaking to each other. Keep the story visually interesting even through dialogue by injecting movement and action everywhere. In their own way, these two romantic comedies also rely on tension and suspense to keep the conversations intriguing. In When Harry Met Sally, we are constantly wondering if they will get together, so their long conversations are interesting as we are looking for a sign that they do love each other, and we get the feeling they might kiss at any moment. In 500 Days of Summer, we, like Tom, are trying to figure out what went wrong and why they are no longer together, so their conversations are interesting in an analytical sense, we’re tensely awaiting a big blow-up or some sort of conflict that would tell us why they didn’t make it.

Films are visual. Whenever possible you should show what is happening rather than having the characters tell us about it as they would in a stage play or a novel. Avoid talking heads, and use dialogue to create tension by using dramatic irony. Keep the characters moving and give them something to do. Never have an entire page of only dialogue!

Check out my guest blog post on engaging the reader on Debra Eckerling’s website: Write On! Online.

While all of the different elements of the first ten percent that I’ve mentioned in the past posts are important-describing your hero, introducing your hero, drawing the reader into the world of the story and establishing the Ordinary World and creating sympathy-none are more important than the inciting incident. During the first ten percent of the story you must establish what is going to happen by inserting the very first turning point, what is commonly called the inciting incident. Not to be confused with the first act turning point that occurs at the end of Act One and establishes the goal that the hero will pursue, the inciting incident is the very first event that gets the story going and prepares the hero and the audience for what will happen during the rest of the film. The inciting incident must occur during the first ten percent. It typically occurs near the end of the first ten percent, after the hero and his or her ordinary world have been established, but it can occur at any point in the first ten percent of the story.

The inciting incident of When in Rome is when Beth’s sister announces she is getting married. This sets the story in motion, without this event Beth never would have traveled to Rome and taken the coins from the fountain, but this is different from the first act turning point because it has not created  a goal yet for Beth. The first act turning point does not occur until she removes the coins from the fountain, at which point the story really gets going and the hero’s goal is established.

In Shrek the inciting incident is the fairytale creatures moving into Shrek’s swamp, which prompts him to travel to Duloc to see what is happening. The first act turning point occurs when he is charged with the quest of bringing back Princess Fiona. This is when the goal is established, but the inciting incident is what began the story, disrupted Shrek’s Ordinary World, and set the story in motion. Both are essential, but it is important to understand the difference and when each element should occur in a properly structured story.

Dorothy’s story begins with the tornado that transports her to the new world of Oz, which represents the inciting incident. But she is unsure of what to do and has no goal until the first act turning point in which she sets off on her quest down the yellow brick road. The story could not start without the inciting incident, but it would not have anywhere to go without the first act turning point.

The inciting incident that occurs in the first ten percent disrupts the everyday life and normal, established routine that they have been enjoying in the first few pages, this incident changes everything, but does not yet tell the hero or the audience exactly where the story is going to go. The hero must spend some time adjusting to this disruption, figuring out what to do, and then reacting to the inciting incident in a way that will lead them to the first act turning point.

For more information on the first 10%, check out Michael Hauge’s lecture Grabbing the Reader in the First 10 Pages-available on DVD by clicking here.

Before the story gets going, before the adventure begins, the first ten percent must be used to show the hero’s everyday existence, what their daily routine is like prior to the inciting incident. As I discussed in the post on introducing your hero, one of the best ways to do this is to show your hero actively doing something when the story opens. While they are technically active, they are probably engaged in an activity they have done a million times. Most movies do not open with the hero skydiving for the first time, or reaching the peak of a mountain they’ve never climbed before, or winning a prize or a race. By definition, the Ordinary World-the hero’s normal life before the story starts-is normal, boring, and mundane.

At this early point in the story it is okay for them to be engaged in an average everyday existence. The audience and reader’s mind is open and in a learning mode. They are looking for clues and trying to figure the story out, so at this early point they are open to seeing the hero doing a few normal things. That’s not to say that you should spend five pages describing the hero brushing their teeth or getting ready for work, although some films, to set up contrast, do spend a lot of time examining routines like this-Paranormal Activity and Stranger Than Fiction are a few that spend a lot of time setting up a dull everyday existence, but they do this as a technique to offer contrast between what life was like before the story got started, and how significantly it changed after the inciting incident changed the character’s lives forever.

In cases like Shrek, Elf, Daybreakers, Star Wars or Harry Potter, the Ordinary World is something extraordinary and wonderful to us, so it makes sense to dwell in the swamp examining Shrek’s odd takes on grooming rituals, or in the North Pole to take a closer look at what elf life is like. These worlds are ordinary to the characters, but interesting and different to us. In fantasy, future, or sci-fi genres, time needs to be taken examining and exploring the Ordinary World so the audience will feel as comfortable there as the characters are. Examining the rules and the way this strange world works will help orient the audience so that they can fully understand the story, the characters, and the hero.

A big part of the hero’s normal life is the introduction of their friends and mentors. Establishing their relationships helps us understand who the hero is, and often the way they relate to people in the first ten percent will show us how dysfunctional they are, and give us a reference to see how much they have changed and grown by the end of the film. The hero will often grow and learn something while their friend doesn’t change at all, as in Legally Blonde, 13 Going on 30 or Sideways. This offers a contrast and emphasizes the hero’s growth as compared to the friend who represents who the hero was at the start of the story.

Often the hero will evolve out of the romantic relationship they were in at the beginning of the film because they have grown as a result of the adventures they will undertake-as in The Wedding Singer, When Harry Met Sally, About a Boy and most romantic comedies.

Jobs and careers usually change throughout a hero’s journey, and establishing where the hero works and why it isn’t right is an important part of the first ten percent if their career will be a part of the story. In movies about career, like Office Space or The Devil Wears Prada, obviously this is true, but you’ll also see it in non-career based movies like 27 Dresses, Julie and Julia, Fight Club, and 500 Days of Summer. By rejecting the job they had at the start of the story, before they were transformed by the events of the story, the hero is symbolically proclaiming that they have changed and grown and throwing off the mantle of their former life.

The hero’s entire life can and should change as a result of the journey they will undergo, their relationships, their attitude, their perspective, their career, their friendships and their personality will all change. In order to appreciate and understand how significantly the change is, it is important for the screenwriter to spend adequate time establishing what they are like in the first ten percent and showing us why they need to change to really be happy and fulfilled.

For more information on hooking your reader, check out Michael Hauge’s lecture Grabbing the Reader in the First 10 Pages-available on DVD by clicking here.

Taking the reader out of the world they inhabit and into the world of your story is a vital part of good storytelling. Whether you’re writing a novel, a short story, a stage or a screenplay, you must transport the audience into the world of the story. This is especially important when writing about a time or place that is drastically different than the world your viewers inhabit, but it is still important if you are writing about the present time in a very familiar location.

Stories that fail to properly bring the reader into the world of the story are less engaging and less real. If the setting doesn’t feel authentic, and the story begins abruptly without establishing where we are and what the rules of this world are, the reader will have a hard time relating to the story and caring about what happens. Just as you must create empathy for your hero in order for the audience to relate to them and see the story through their eyes, you must create a world which feels so real and alive that the audience is transported there and forgets that they’re actually sitting in a movie theater, or at home reading a script, and is completely enveloped in the vivid, exciting place you have created. As with character description, the most effective way to do this is to choose the most vivid, visual details that most efficiently convey the image and essence of the place or time you are creating.

After plunging us down into the depths of the world the sunken Titanic now inhabits, the script takes its time to show us what life was like for those who boarded the ship in on its maiden voyage in 1912. The grandeur and richness of Rose’s world was portrayed in the opening of Titanic by showing her clothes and the opulence of her world, as compared to the dull, dingy rough world Jack inhabited. These details not only set the stage for their star-crossed love story, but brought us into the world of 1912 London with stunning realism.

In Daybreakers this future world is examined carefully and much time is spent showing us what life might be like if everyone were a vampire. The different inventions and changes that have taken place to accommodate a population who cannot tolerate sunlight are shown and examined, and the filmmakers take their time drawing us into this new world, with shots of the dead faces of the people, the small changes to everyday life, the fact that everyone smokes, they examine the minor problems of how people get around in the daylight, and the fact that there are kids who will never grow up. By the time the story gets underway, the audience feels immersed in this strange world, and understands how everything works.

In the first Lord of the Rings we spend plenty of time in the Shire with the Hobbits, before rushing into the story. Since this is not only the past but an imaginary realm with different species and types of people, the writers have made sure that everyone-even those unfamiliar with the books-will feel comfortable in this new word.

Shrek opens with the storybook to help emphasize that this movie pokes fun at all of the other fairytales, and to draw attention to the fact that this is a fairytale.

In Sideways, the opening slowly reveals where we are, what Miles is like, and where the characters are going. The drive up the coast is gorgeous and immediately orients the reader in California and offers a wonderful transition from the cities they leave behind to the quiet wine country they approach.
While some who love downtown L.A. and want to imagine it as the next New York City adore the way 500 Days of Summer uses its setting, it felt very generic and un-Los Angeles like to me. The settings were beautiful, and time was taken to discuss them, but the way the characters acted and the people populating this world made it feel very un-Southern Californian and made it evident that the writers were more familiar with a city like San Francisco, where public transportation is the norm, and where people actually walk around at all hours of the day and night.

Not only did the makers of The Box fail to successfully draw the viewer into the story, they failed to utilize the setting they chose. For some reason, the story was set in the 70’s, but aside from the mention of the date and the excess sideburns, one would have never known that it wasn’t taking place in the present. Aside from wanting to adhere to original story, I can’t comprehend why the story was set in the 70’s as it didn’t seem to matter to the story. Like 500 Days of Summer, if no one had mentioned where they were-in this case, where in time-I would have never guessed it was supposed to be in the 70’s.

As you read screenplays and watch films, pay attention to how well the screenwriter or filmmaker draws you into the world of the story. The contrast is sharper in stories set in another time or place, but even contemporary stories set in your hometown can succeed or fail at creating a realistic and vivid world that brings you into the story and makes you want to stay. You’ll know the story has succeeded at drawing you into the world if you feel completely engrossed and do not want to put the script down or pause the dvd. If a sound in another room startles you because you are so engaged by the film that you have forgotten where you are and what world you really inhabit, then the screenwriter has done their job well. If you find yourself getting up, fidgeting, looking away from the page or the screen, getting popcorn or going to the bathroom, the story is not compelling, and this may be due in a large part to the failure at drawing you into a new world in the first ten percent of the story.

For more information on the first 10%, check out Michael Hauge’s lecture Grabbing the Reader in the First 10 Pages-available on DVD by clicking here.

Aside from the physical description, it is important how you introduce your hero to the audience. When you introduce them, what they are doing, and what they say are going to give your audience their first impression of your hero and set up what they think of them throughout the rest of the script.

Within the first ten pages, as reviewed in the last post, we must establish sympathy for the hero by using one of these techniques.You may choose to introduce your hero in the midst of doing one of these things-maybe the first time we see them they are having a birthday party thrown for them, giving cash to a homeless person, or getting fired or kicking butt at work. But you don’t have to use the sympathy techniques right away. As long as you create empathy within the first ten pages, you can introduce your hero in any way you want. Any way that fits in the story, makes sense for the character, and conveys who they are, that is.

Whether you use these sympathy techniques right away or not, it is important to introduce the hero in the middle of doing something. You don’t want to show them sitting around, sleeping, watching TV, drinking at a bar, driving, or any sedentary, dull activity. Showing an inactive, passive hero makes them come across as a loser. Even if the character starts out as a loser, or is going to grow and change throughout the movie, they can still be active when we first see them.

In Being John Malkovich, one of the first things we see Craig doing is performing with his marionettes. We see that despite his appearance, his weird home, and his depressed attitude, he is a true artist with enormous talent. He starts out as an inactive, uninspired struggling artist, but because of the way we see him in the first few scenes, we understand that he is talented and passionate.

If their job is an important part of the story, and is generally is, even if it is something they will stop doing, introduce them in at the job, doing their normal tasks-as in Jerry Maguire or Tootsie. Seeing them while they are working shows us a lot about them and helps draw the reader into the world of the story-in these cases the world of sports agents and the world of actors in New York city-while also revealing what they do and who they are to the audience. If we see the characters at their job or doing what they love most when they are first introduced, you don’t have to go back and explain, or have the characters unnaturally state in the dialogue that they are an actor or a sports agent. We already know and we understand that this is the essence of who they are and an important part of their life because it is the first thing we see them doing, and first impressions stick.

An important part of the first ten percent is drawing the reader into the world of the story, particularly if it is set in a fantasy realm, or a past or future world we might be unfamiliar with. This can be achieved not only through appropriate description of the setting, which is important, but through your introduction of your hero. Showing the hero interacting in this new world can help draw the reader into the new place in an engaging way that also helps them identify with the hero. In Shrek, the opening sequence where Shrek does all of his odd ogre morning rituals helps us to learn about who Shrek is, what his world is like, and get us comfortable and familiar with this new world. It is an active, interesting and amusing opening and is an excellent example of how to introduce a hero.

Ideally, your hero should be the very first major character that is introduced. The audience at this point is looking for someone to identify with and trying to figure out who the important people are. Sometimes it is not possible to put the hero first, and if this is the case with your story, make it clear when you do introduce the hero that he or she is the hero. Take extra time to describe the hero, but please don’t rely on the cheesy gimmick of talking to your reader by stating in the text that “We find our hero…” or “Our hero, BOB, is busy at work,” etc. Those devices are hackneyed and irritating. If your story and your writing are strong enough, it will be easy to spot the hero.

For more information on the first 10%, check out Michael Hauge’s lecture Grabbing the Reader in the First 10 Pages-available on DVD by clicking here.

The first ten percent of the film establishes the character in their everyday life, or the “Ordinary World” to use Chris Vogler’s terminology. This part of the script is often the easiest to write, and because of that, many writers overlook it and don’t spend as much time here analyzing and agonizing over every word. Since the second act is often the most difficult, and the third act contains the climax and the most exciting part of the story, the opening ten percent is glossed over.

This first portion of your script is where you win or lose your audience or your reader, and it is vital to the success of your script. Some scripts open right away with an inciting incident that sets the story in motion. In this case the first ten percent is off to a quick start and the writer will have to go back when the action has slowed a bit to establish who the character is and what their world is like. For the majority of films, and the majority of screenwriting structure paradigms, the first ten percent prior to the inciting incident is what tells us who the character is, what their everyday life is like, and establishes why we should like them and care enough about them to want to watch the rest of the film.

In this short amount of time, you need to accomplish several things:

-Introduce and describe the hero.

-Grab the reader’s attention with an exciting, compelling story and engaging writing.

-Establish the hero’s normal life, what they are like and what they are doing before the story really starts.

-Invite the reader into the world of the story by using vivid detail and visual descriptions to create a realistic and three-dimensional setting, whether the story is set in a real or imagined world, in the past, present or future.

-Create empathy for the hero using some of the techniques described here.

-Show the inciting incident that sets the story in motion.

This is not to be confused with the first act turning point that occurs at 25% and firmly establishes the goal for the rest of the film. The inciting incident is the very first event that begins the hero’s journey out of their ordinary world and into the world of the story.

For the next few days, I’ll examine how to accomplish each of these objectives in depth. First I’ll discuss introducing the hero, specifically, describing them.

While character descriptions must be brief, the description of the hero can be a little longer. Take a full paragraph-at least a few sentences-to really describe the hero. Remember that the character description should not be about hair and eye color, or any physical description that would limit casting, unless specific looks are essential to the story or the character. For example, the hobbits had to be described as short, rotund, and with hairy feet,  that Elle Woods was Legally Blonde, and it did matter to the story that all those nerdy girls who would become hot by taking off their glasses or getting a makeover (She’s All That, The Princess Diaries, Walk to Remember, Never Been Kissed, etc.) looked nerdy. But even when looks matter, you’ll find that the descriptions aren’t so specific-as they often get in books-that only one person could play the part. Any number of blondes could have been Elle, the hobbits casting wasn’t limited to brunettes, and those nerdy pre-makeover girls could have any number of hair color, eye color or height.

What matters in describing characters, particularly your hero, is capturing their essence. Who are they? What can we tell about their personality from the way they act, the way they carry themselves, or the way they dress? And while you cannot get into the character’s head and give us a psychoanalysis of their neuroses and hang-ups, you can and should give us an overall image of what they’re like.

You can also use visual description to imply what a personality is like, it’s all about choosing the right adjectives. You need to pick words that can be acted and shown on screen. Shy is not as visual and actable as timid, meek, soft-spoken or careful. Mean is not as visual as aggressive or hostile. Nice is not as visual as warm, friendly or bubbly. Be careful in your descriptions, and try to choose the most actable, visual words to describe your hero. Throughout the script, make sure that we see them acting in a way that is consistent with this description. As you review your character descriptions, ask yourself how the audience will know that what you’ve described is true, since they won’t be able to see the words you’ve written. If your description is visual and actable, then everything you’ve written about your character will be easily known and understood by viewers watching your film, not just people reading your script.

Here are two character descriptions that say the same things about the hero. The first is an example of what not to do-and what most writers do out of habit in their first draft. The second description rewrites the first in a more visual way that an actor could take to the screen and portray.

JESSICA is 5’8” and 140lbs, thin but muscular and toned. She is 24 years old. She spends all her time outside riding horses so she is always tan, with some freckles on her nose and cheeks. She has long brown hair that she always wears up in a ponytail. Jessica’s parents divorced when she was six and she has always had a hard time trusting people because her father left her and her mom. She has abandonment issues and when she gets into a relationship she always suspects her boyfriends of cheating on her. She gets jealous easily and constantly starts fights with them, and has a hard time being friendly because she is afraid if she gets close to someone they will leave like her father did.

JESSICA, 24, is athletic and outdoorsy. She wears black mud-covered riding boots over dusty, worn jeans and a thin white tank top. Her hair is pulled up out of the way. Jessica is reserved and cautious.

It’s not just the length of the description that has been cut down, it’s the novelistic background details that aren’t visual. How would the audience know that Jessica’s parents divorced? The only way they would know is if she reveals it in dialogue, or if you show a flashback of this event happening. But those things are not part of the character description.

The details about what she does in a relationship are also not something that can be acted on screen when Jessica is first introduced. Rather than telling your reader something the audience cannot see, you will need to show that Jessica does this by writing out scenes in which she acts this way. The details about her looks that limit casting have been omitted, and the overall look is summed up in the general but visual adjectives of athletic and outdoorsy. The important thing about her is that she is athletic.

By describing her clothes, we can tell she rides horses. Even better would be if she were introduced in a restaurant, or at school or work-somewhere where the fact that she was dressed this way was not appropriate and would reveal that she is so into riding she is always just coming from seeing her horse and can’t be bothered changing into more suitable clothes. This is a good way to show that she is a rider rather than novelistically telling us that she rides horses a lot.

To transform the novelistic sentence: “She has long brown hair that she always wears up in a ponytail” to one that works in a screenplay, I have changed it to “Her hair is pulled up out of the way.” No need to limit casting with the long brown hair detail, it doesn’t matter to the essence of the character if her hair is long and brown or short and blonde. We can’t know that she always wears it up because we are only describing what we see here. Her hair is up now, but the audience would have no way of knowing that she always wears her hair in a ponytail, so it’s inappropriate to describe her this way in a screenplay.

By saying she is reserved and cautious, we have transformed all of her background information and hang-ups into two actable, specific, visual adjectives that the actor can use to approach the character and show us that she has all of these issues, the details of which can be revealed through dialogue and later events. The important thing now is giving an overall impression and a visual description that evokes an image in the readers mind, and character traits that any athletic, 20-something actress could portray.

In your first draft, don’t slow down your writing by worrying over every word. Describe the character as you see him or her, but go back in subsequent revisions and analyze whether or not your descriptions are visual or not. Ask yourself how the audience will see that what you have written is true. If the only way to know a detail you have put down would be to read the script, then you need to revise your description to make it more visual and appropriate for a screenplay.

For more information on the first 10%, check out Michael Hauge’s lecture Grabbing the Reader in the First 10 Pages-available on DVD by clicking here.

The best way to explain montage in American filmmaking can be summed up by these lyrics from Team America:World Police:

The hours approaching, just give it your best
You’ve got to reach your prime.
That’s when you need to put yourself to the test,
And show us a passage of time,
We’re gonna need a montage (montage)
Oh it takes a montage (montage)

Show a lot of things happing at once,
Remind everyone of what’s going on (what’s going on?)
And with every shot you show a little improvement
To show it all would take to long
That’s called a montage (montage)
Oh we want montage (montage)

And anything that we want to go from just a beginner to a pro,
You need a montage (montage)
Even Rocky had a montage (montage)

(Montage…montage)

Anything that we want to go from just a beginner to a pro,
You need a montage (montage)
Oh it takes a montage (montage)

Always fade out in a montage,
If you fade out, it seem like more time
Has passed in a montage,
Montage

Watch the sequence on You Tube here.

As the song so eloquently describes, montages are typically used to show the passage of time by using a series of shots. Most montages do not use the actual sound from each scene, but rely on a song or theme music over the shots to unify them into one cohesive piece.

The most common, and now clichéd use of montage is the training montage, which involves someone learning how to do something and as the song says “with every shot you show a little improvement, to show it all would take too long.” This song was used over the training montage in both Team America World Police, and an episode of South Park, Asspen in which Stan had to train to beat an older skier on an intimidating run. The technique, especially popular in the 70’s and 80’s, is in all kinds of movies-as the song notes, Rocky, The Karate Kid, Dirty Dancing, Ghostbusters, Footloose , Kung Fu Panda, and amost martial arts movies.

For a silly montage of training montages, check out this video on You Tube.

Montage is often used to show preparations for a journey or a battle, as in Lord of the Rings, or the actual war or battles themselves, as in Braveheart.

It’s also often used in a non-training sense to show people falling in love, as in Groundhog Day, Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid, etc. Or, to show someone reminiscing about lost love, or thinking about the person they love, as in Casablanca, When Harry Met Sally, and 500 Days of Summer. Even in Toy Story, Woody reminisces about the good times he had with Andy. This device is so common, you might not even notice it as a device, but just watch it as another part of the film.

American montage should not be confused with Soviet montage, which is used to show the thematic connection between two things. Sergei Eisenstein’s Soviet montage theory is that you can create a sort of cinematic metaphor by juxtaposing two images. The technique will feature one shot of something within the story, then abruptly cut to another shot of an image, sometimes even an image unrelated to the story, that thematically ties to the first image. These montages served to imply, and not very subtly, that the first shot was like the second shot.  In Eisenstein’s Strike, we see a shot of the rebelling workers being brutalized, and the next shot is a cow being slaughtered. The cow is not a part of the story, and has nothing to do with the narrative, but it is used thematically to compare the workers to the cattle and create an association in the mind of the viewer.

A good example of Soviet montage being used in American film is the montage sequence in The Godfather, when shots of the baptism are edited together with the different mobsters being killed. This sequence shows the irony of the pure, innocent act of baptism, the hypocrisy of the mob boss pretending to be religious and also represents Michael being baptized – in blood rather than water — into his new role in the family at the same time his nephew is literally being baptized.

Soviet montage wasn’t just about metaphors, this editing technique was used in other ways to elicit emotion and create desired effects. Montage was used to create pacing, by showing increasingly shorter and shorter shots, which gives the sense of an increasing pace.  Shots were cut at different times to create different feelings than the images would have been if traditionally edited.

Although montage is an editing technique, writers can and should incorporate montage into their script if and when it is necessary and appropriate to the story. The training montage technique has become a bit clichéd, but if you can be creative enough in the way you choose your images and what you show, you can use this device without it looking hackneyed. And sometimes it really is the only way to “go from just a beginner to a pro.”

If you are going to do a montage, make sure you understand what it is and what it isn’t. Whether Soviet or American, a montage represents a series of shots-that means that each image you describe should be something that can be shown within only a few seconds, if that. If each of your montage “shots” is several sentences long and involves a lot of dialogue, it’s probably not a montage, just write it out as a regular scene.

When you’re watching movies, look out for montage and note how well it was executed. What was the overall message of the montage? Was it used to show training, time passing, or a relationship developing? Or was it used thematically? If it was thematic, what was the message the filmmaker was trying to convey? What images or juxtapositions did they use to evoke an emotional response in the

We’re now almost three weeks into the New Year-how are you doing with all those writing resolutions? As any good teacher, I wouldn’t ask you to do anything that I wouldn’t do, and I have so far not failed in my quest to watch two movies per week. These movies are movies I’ve never seen, sometimes new in the theater and sometimes new to me. I’ve signed up for Blockbuster Online, which I highly recommend. Netflix is also an awesome service, I used it in graduate school when I had to watch 3-5 often quite obscure movies per week. I think both programs are great, a really good value, and a must for screenwriters. The Blockbuster option has the advantage of letting you return a movie you got via mail to the store, which is good when you get an impulse to watch a movie that may not be in your queue-you can still run out and rent like in the olden days without paying any extra fees. I’m currently on the one-movie-at-a-time plan, which is around $12 a month-well worth the price. There are other options available and I highly recommend investing in this service, it’s not only the cheapest way to see a bunch of movies, it’s so convenient you’ll be less likely to skip out on your resolution.

But I digress.

The following are the movies I have watched so far this year with a brief note on each, and something you can learn about screenwriting from them.

Lars and the Real Girl-This was the first movie I ordered from Blockbuster online, I have been meaning to watch it for awhile and was not let down. Michael Hauge highly recommended it and even used it (along with the Bourne Identity) in one of his lectures at the Screenwriting Expo on Creating Powerful Scenes to illustrate his point that character, desire and conflict form the basis of every scene.

The film is very slow and quiet, contained and a little claustrophobic. It is very sweet and heartwarming, and Ryan Gosling is amazing. If you liked Shopgirl, I would recommend this, if you liked this, see Shopgirl. The two films are very different but they have the same small, quiet tone, and both deal with a love story that isn’t perfect, but that prepares the main character to grow to a point where they can finally be ready to love in a healthy relationship.

Daybreakers-see my review

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest-It pains me to admit I hadn’t seen this classic until now, but finally checked it off my list. The superb acting is what really made this film work for me-Jack Nicholson, of course, was wonderful, but the rest of the cast was equally great. By treating the other patients like normal people, in a way no one else ever has, he allows them to experience happiness and freedom that. This movie is all about subtlety, and while it is a little episodic due to its literary basis, it still works on screen because of how well the cast is able to convey emotion and passion with the smallest changes in facial expression and tone. The tension and antagonism that develop is interesting when you consider how little physical confrontation takes place during most of the film.

10 Things I Hate About You-Another modern adaptation of Shakespeare, this teen-comedy version of Taming of the Shrew is cute, fun, and easy to watch. It’s not the most amazing film ever made, but it’s a good teen romantic comedy. When you have such a solid story backing you, it’s hard to screw it up, and Heath Ledger fans will adore his performance.

My Fair Lady-Again, a crime that I haven’t seen this until now, but I’m glad I finally did. While, like all musicals, it was a little too perfectly cheery and choreographed, it was an excellent retelling of the classic Cinderella/Pygmalion story that has inspired so many movies and books. Audrey Hepburn is, as always, phenomenal, and it’s refreshing that even in a musical set in such a romantic era, the romance that develops between Eliza and Henry is real, grounded and a touch cynical.

500 Days of Summer-Cute modern love story, structure buffs will find the non-linear storytelling interesting, though it’s not groundbreaking or amazingly original, because the different days chosen to tell the story still follow the classic plot points of the standard three act structure.

The one major critique I have of this movie is that it did not utilize its setting well. Until one of the characters mentioned that they were in Los Angeles, I had assumed they were in New York City. It wasn’t just the love story and the dialogue that reminded one of Annie Hall, it was the settings and the people and their actions-everything screamed New York City.  I was not surprised to find out that the original story was set in San Francisco, and later moved to L.A. and slightly tweaked. Even though the characters talk about the buildings, point out L.A. landmarks, and really are walking around L.A., it doesn’t feel like it’s really set here. The way they act, the places they go, and their huge reliance on public transportation belie the fact that this was originally a story set in a different type of city. The main character owns a car, but only uses it once-he and his girlfriend walk around, take buses, subways, trains. Everything looked like another city-the weather, the other people, the clothing. It was clear the writers had not meant for it to be set here and it bothered me and made the film feel less authentic. I don’t live downtown, so maybe life is really like that there now, but I have lived right outside the city for my entire life and spent plenty of time there, and movies like L.A. Story seem much more like they were actually filmed here than this one did.