iv) the spectator feels that the writer is taking a sadistic pleasure in burdening the character with ever greater obstacles.

He will regard the character as being victimised, pitted against impossible odds, and suspect the writer’s motives for making life so difficult for him.

The rape scenes in A Clockwork Orange, the chainsaw scene in Scarface (the 1983 version) and the torture scenes in Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction fall into this category, in my view. Tarantino, the writer-director of these last two movies, has defended himself vigourously against charges of sadism, saying that his only responsibility is of an artistic nature and consists of being consistent in his treatment of the characters.

If a character is an odious criminal, it is normal, he said, that the character should be seen acting odiously. That’s a fine excuse! In Die Hard 2 and 24, a particularly unscrupulous villain blows up an airliner in midflight.

If a character is an odious criminal, it is normal [...]
that the character should be seen acting odiously.

In King Lear, Cornwall gouges out Gloucester’s eyes. In Psycho, a mysterious killer carries out a sudden, brutal murder.

In Misery, Annie (Kathy Bates) cripples Paul (James Caan) by breaking his ankles. In each of these cases we may feel that these are abusive acts, that there was no need to go so far, but we do not suspect the writers of self-indulgence. They leave the spectator little time to draw any satisfaction from the crime and its representation even if he should be inclined to do so. In fact, the violence in the screen version of Misery is watered down compared with the violence in the novel in which the nurse actually hacks off the protagonist’s feet. As William Goldman [83b] notes of the film’s audience: “They hated her but they loved the movie. If she had cut his feet off the audience would have hated her and hated the movie.”

Take two other famous examples: the dentist’s drill scene in Marathon Man and the rape scene in Deliverance. They leave us feeling queasy, to be sure. But in the first case, the violence is suggested rather than shown, conveyed in a preparatory scene and through the words of Szell (Laurence Olivier). The actual torture is never seen.

It is not simply a matter of artistic coherence,
it also has to do with dramatisation, with duration,
with the way a given act is represented.

In Deliverance there is a kind of trade-off insofar as we know that the victim (Ned Beatty) may pull through: two of his companions, Lewis (Burt Reynolds) and Drew (Ronny Cox), are absent but could return at any moment and put an end to the rape. In short, and notwithstanding Tarantino’s views on the matter, it is not simply a matter of artistic coherence, it also has to do with dramatisation, with duration, with the way a given act is represented. It is not enough to say simply that human barbarism exists, I’m doing no more that showing it. Broadly speaking, we can say that there are two ways of representing human barbarism: the humanist way and the barbaric way. Writers—and, incidentally, spectators—should have the courage of their convictions, even if these are very often (to a large extent) unconscious.

There are two ways of representing human barbarism:
the humanist way and the barbaric way

Note too that there is a significant difference between the examples of Scarface and Reservoir Dogs and those of Misery, Deliverance and Marathon Man. In the latter three cases, the victims are the story’s protagonists. When a writer wishes to indulge his sadistic tendencies, it is better that he should do so on a secondary character rather than the protagonist.

When a writer wishes to indulge his sadistic tendencies,
it is better that he should do so on a secondary character
rather than the protagonist.

The issue of obstacles—getting the right balance between the difficulties the protagonist faces and his ability to overcome them—is one of the most crucial for the writer of drama to resolve. These obstacles should be as forbidding as possible, and yet not too much so. There is one work in which the obstacles are too strong, and where it is precisely the insolubility of the problem—the writer having refused to resort to any miraculous outside intervention—that lends meaning and power to the story. This is No Man‘s Land. I shall refrain from discussing the film here so as not to spoil the pleasure for anyone who has not seen it, but clearly it provides an exception to the above rule.

-Yves Lavandier

If this excerpt has whetted your appetite and you would like to own this book, don’t fork out the $150 or so Amazon is charging.

Instead, send an email to the publisher contact@clown-enfant.com with subject ‘the story department referral’ and you will be eligible for the super-discounted price of 30 Euros (i.e. only $37 at the time of writing). This saves you $113 (or 75%) off the Amazon cost.

Perhaps not a surefire way to find high concepts easily but definitely an approach to getting your imagination kickstarted.

And if I were her, I would have probably made sure this guy with his laundry signed a released form.

After all, instead of a banker, he could be a lawyer. And not wanting to be seen with the dirty laundry…

Screenwriting Tips from nehir tuna on Vimeo.

With thanks to Louise Lee Mei.

_____________________________________

Check out this video link…

_____________________________________

For more videos about screenwriting or filmmaking, look in the sidebar or click on the category link under the title of this post.

If you know of a great video on Screenwriting, let me know!

Just complete the form below and send me the link.

Thank you!

Karel

[contact-form]

Because we’re about mastering the craft, not sending it to an early grave.

I don’t know why, but the more challenging the review, the happier I am. I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess. If you don’t enjoy punishing yourself, then I don’t know why you’d want to be a writer.

I can objectively review any script except my own. A writer needs friends who can give you good feedback.

By the way, if you’re just skimming scripts and writing short, thoughtless, generic reviews, then get off the bus. You’re hurting yourself and you’re wasting our time.

On receiving criticism – take it like a man. And if you’re a woman – take it like a man.

Get used to criticism. Execs, producers, directors, actors, and especially film critics can be even more brutal and quite often dumber.

Be of good cheer. You’re amongst friends and fellow laborers.

On receiving criticism – take it like a man.
And if you’re a woman – take it like a man.

Don’t be harsh. Almost everything about storytelling is debatable. There are almost always multiple solutions to any one problem, and your solution may not be the best one.

The only thing that’s truly black & white is format & grammar.

If you don’t give a flying flip about format & grammar, well, you’ve been warned.

Because a screenplay ought to look like a @#$%ing screenplay. And a writer ought to know how to @#$%ing write.

I know a handful of professional studio readers. Believe me when I tell you that sloppy specs and bad grammar really pisses them off. At least I’ll tell you when I’m pissed.

What Dave Trottier says about format is the law. And I’m the Chief of Police.

When you criticize someone over format, there’s no excuse for being wrong because you could easily look it up.

What Dave Trottier says about format is the law.
And I’m the Chief of Police.

Reviewers, beware: giants do, indeed, roam TriggerStreet. So far, I’ve encountered 2 people whom I would consider “brilliant” and 1 flat-out “genius.” No, I’m not kidding. You never saw my review for the “genius.”

And yet, geniuses don’t write masterpieces every single time.

Then again, you can’t underestimate the work of a genius just because you didn’t “get it” the first time you read it.

If you truly care about the people you know on this site, you WILL do freewill reviews for them and THANK THEM for the opportunity.

If you’re writing a review for a friend, you’re not doing that person any favors by not saying what’s wrong with the story. Just don’t be harsh about it.

The point of a review is not to condemn but to push the writer to greater heights of craftsmanship. Although some writers need a good shove.

Do you know what it really means to get your script sold and filmed and distributed to the masses? It means that your weaknesses as a writer will become public knowledge.

The point of a review is not to condemn but
to push the writer to greater heights of craftsmanship.

And if your friend sells a script that YOU reviewed and that script turned into a film and it bombed and got ripped apart by critics and audiences alike because of its glaring weaknesses in the story – that you did not point out – you failed your friend.

I read every script twice. You’d be surprised by how much more thought went into it then you first realized.

Half the battle in a review is proving the worth of your opinions. You have to prove that you really read the story, that you really know what you’re talking about, and therefore, the author should seriously consider your opinions.

Don’t forget to praise the writer. Don’t forget to encourage the writer.

The world looks at us and they think that we’re only as good as our last script. We know better. Success is a long-term devotion to the craft. We have to give our friends the breathing room to fail and never think less of them when it happens. And believe me, it happens to everyone.

Help them up when they’re down.

It’s better to share all of your thoughts in your review and be open about being wrong than to say nothing at all.

- Mystery Man

In his own words, Mystery Man was “famous yet anonymous, failed yet accomplished, brilliant yet semi-brilliant. A homebody jetsetting around the world. Brash and daring yet chilled with a twist.”

MM blogged for nearly 4 years and tweeted for only 4 months, then disappeared – mysteriously.

The Story Department continues to republish his best articles on Monday.

Here, you’ll also be informed about the release of his screenwriting book.

_______________________________

With thanks to Sol.

Enjoy!

Karel

He was ready to pounce on a project with money supposedly in hand and needed to mobilize quickly.

His eagerness was overwhelming as he bulldozed through small talk and gave me a heavy-handed breakdown of an ambitious television endeavor. After I received his pitch, Michael handed me a pilot DVD. His hope? I’d go home, review footage, like it and sign on.

The following morning the telephone calls began. Only 10 hours after our meeting, Michael called and texted me repeatedly. Each message was more urgent then the last. Why hadn’t I gotten back to him? The investors are waiting! And the doozy “I gave you my one and only DVD and I must have it back because I have a meeting across town, I need you to drive an hour and a half to me now!”

Red flag city!

As nice as the payday would have been, I had to turn him down on-the-spot, because my philosophy is to only take on clients who are the caliber of people I want to work with. The only difference between A-list and craigslist is which people you decide to take on. Don’t be afraid to lay down the “no” smack down. Like Pretty Woman, you decide who, you decide when, you decide how much.

The only difference between A-list and craigslist
is which people you decide to take on.

Days later, I settled down on my porch to share cigars with some buddies when our not so intrepid producer showed up unannounced. As you may imagine, it was not a good scene. As I sent him on his way, Michael seemed devastated, but not as devastated as I would have been with a final product by the hands of this guy.

Clearly my stalker producer is an extreme example.

But what if you’ve already signed onto a project? This producer could have behaved differently up-front and then started to act a fool mid-project. What happens when the work is untenable and it’s on-going?

Walking away from work you’ve invested your time, heart and money is a hard thing to do and indeed a decision you shouldn’t take likely. A good friend, Cory, was in this very position – he produced his close friend Gary’s film. They’d worked together before, but never on a project this ambitious. What started as a collaborative process, degenerated to a pissing match between two friends.

We’ve all been there.

We enter a project with good intentions, an ambitious goal, we’re thwarted by the ineptitude or the bad direction of others. Gary, a first time director, was unwilling to move on any major creative decisions. And since they were “friends first” it was doubly tenuous ground to navigate.

Naturally, I took Cory out for drinks. He lamented that he just wanted to make the best film he could. Somewhere between our Vodka and Tonics and Seven and Sevens (it was senior drink night!) this jewel of wisdom emerged from Grandpa’s cocktail: “there are friends you make films with and there are friends you don’t.” Indeed.

There are friends you make films with
and there are friends you don’t.

Ultimately, Cory continued to work until the bitter end, bitter as it was. When you invest your time, it’s hard to walk away, especially when you try to save a sinking ship. The film, though better through his diligence, never reached even a quarter of its potential.

Declining to work with someone doesn’t mean you’ve burned the bridge.

If done delicately, you can preserve your relationships and make a graceful exit. Whether it’s an overzealous producer or an underwhelming auteur, use “no” as a tool for protection. In an industry of aggressive “yes” cut to the root, and set your boundaries.

If you know it and you feel it, say “no” to anything but the best for you.

-Merrel Davis.

Merrel Davis is a script analyst based in Los Angeles. He’s worked as a video editor, writer, producer, director, graphic designer and cinematographer on various projects including cutting HD video for the 2008 Bejing Olympics. He’s the creator of ‘Screenwriter Karaoke‘, a successful monthly networking event and is currently working on a feature and a web miniseries.

photo credit: TheCabaal

Two of the short films I produced each have the exact same story problem.

I will explain it to you, so you have no excuse whatsoever to make this same mistake.

Aerosol (2005) is the story of a factory worker who has to deal with an ant that is perniciously keeping him from his work. At the end of this tether, the worker sprays aerosol into his machine and it explodes. Here is – from the film’s synopsis – what happens next:

The ant, feeling guilty, tries to help reconstruct the machine.
From this moment, the Worker begins to realize
that there is more to being human
than his life to that point has lead him to believe.

Tin Can Heart (TCH) tells the story of a robotic puppy. To become friends with a visiting android, the puppy offers his help when the droid starts disintegrating. The third act goes like this:

When the pup gives up his very own battery, his last hope comes
from a within mysterious spherical chamber…

… as a new droid appears from the chamber to rescue the pup.

Can you see what is happening here?

In both cases, there is a strong ‘all is lost’ moment signalling the end of Act Two, in which the hero redeems himself (Aerosol) or makes a sacrifice (TCH).

However, there is no third act for the Hero.

The main action in the final act is done by a different character. I am almost certain that this left audiences confused.

Although both films have had relatively good festival runs because of their outstanding production values, I believe they would have fared much better if there had been a consistency in who the hero character is throughout the film.

Whoever is your Hero at the beginning of the film, must stay the Hero.

And the final climactic action in the story’s third act must be initiated and completed by that same Hero.

These films are proof that you must always have someone with a professional understanding of story structure look over your story before you sign off on it. Even if you believe you know enough, you probably don’t. Spend some money and get a professional opinion. It will save you the disappointment afterwards.

Do you know other examples of a similar story issue?

Or have you seen successful movies that prove me wrong?

_______________________________

With thanks to Sol.

Enjoy!

Karel

At least you’re in some way intrigued by the movie industry or else you wouldn’t be here.

So, you’ve got imagination.

Now, dig if you will this picture…

Dear fellow story lovers…

If you think you’ve just read a manufactured tale, think again.

This story is true. Nothing has been changed – not names, plot, dialogue, not even the fashion. Jean Stevens is a real, rather ghoulish grandmother-type person, but she is alive in the world today.

And, since 1999, this unassuming nonagenarian kept the embalmed bodies of her husband and sister in her house.

This was one of those true stories I stumbled on in my daily cyber-pilgrimage to the Sydney Morning Herald website. And it was one of those moments when I said to myself,

You can’t write this stuff.

Everything in this story was movie-tastic. Even the setting was positively David Lynchian – Endless Mountains, Pennysylvania.

You can’t write this stuff.

And if the definition of ‘write’ in this case is dream up fanciful notions, scenarios and mysterious set-ups that involve a sweet little old lady who digs up her family’s corpses for a good ol’ chin wag well, wow – you’ve struck scribe gold.

But the truth is, you cannot possibly write this stuff – if you’ve done your job, this sort of narrative magic should ‘write itself’.

In other words you can’t always contrive fabulously quirky characters and hope they’ll enact nuts things for you in the course of your story without the results looking staged. Why?

Well, if your characters are as flimsy as the paper you write on, you won’t be able to conjure up some true storytelling magic – the kind that makes writers say, you can’t write that stuff.

The story only starts with you.

When you create a solid story populated with memorable, mutli-faceted characters, the quirks, the realities of these human beings seem to write themselves.

You just the start the ball rolling – sorry I can’t be more romantic about the writer’s mysterious craft here. But sometimes there ain’t no mystery, just precision thinking and a little clever contrivance.

So, the moral of the story?

Research your characters. Know them inside out, back to front, enjoy their backstories, relish in their evil, angelic natures. Fall in love with them, ask them questions. Welcome them into your family.

Do all of this and there’s every chance you’ll write a Jean Stevens-esque story that’ll make corpses staying for tea read like an impotent fairytale.

-Phyllis Foundis

Writer, producer, presenter Phyllis Foundis has written and bellydanced her way to the tender age of 39-ish. She’s been writing stories, ads, one-woman shows and to-do lists forever. Not so much a budding screenwriter than a scribe that’s bloomin’ ready to see her stories up on the silver screen. Phyllis loves her boys and big, feelgood movies – that appeal to people not funding bodies.

To give you the opportunity to delve into Lavandier’s amazing knowledge and insight, we will be publishing a weekly excerpt from the book.

Justifying external obstacles

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine,” sighs Rick (Humphrey Bogart) in Casablanca. It is indeed highly inconvenient for Rick, but if Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman) were not to turn up in his gin joint, there would simply be no story.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world,
she walks into mine

In The Great Escape, just as they are about to make good their escape, the protagonists notice that their tunnel has fallen 20 feet short of their objective. “How could that happen?” asks MacDonald (Gordon Jackson). He is right to ask the question since, given all detailed planning that has gone into the operation, it is indeed incredible that they could have made such a gross error of calculation. However it provides another obstacle for the would-be escapees to overcome. So Bartlett (Richard Attenborough) replies: “What the hell difference does it make? It’s happened!” and they get on with getting round it. We may wonder why the spectator is so prepared to accept these coincidences or strokes of misfortune. But there is no mystery.

anything that hinders the protagonist’s progress
is considered acceptable

As a rule, anything that hinders the protagonist’s progress is considered acceptable since the spectator is always pleased to see the conflict pile up. However this does not mean that the writer has a free hand to invent obstacles randomly and gratuitously.

Most obstacles require a minimum of justification.

Most obstacles require a minimum of justification. It is better that their appearance should appear probable rather than merely possible, though their preparation need not be overdone.

-Yves Lavandier

If this excerpt has whetted your appetite and you would like to own this book, don’t fork out the $150 or so Amazon is charging.

Instead, send an email to the publisher contact@clown-enfant.com with subject ‘the story department referral’ and you will be eligible for the super-discounted price of 30 Euros (i.e. only $37 at the time of writing). This saves you $113 (or 75%) off the Amazon cost.