McGuffin by Hitchcock from isaac niemand on Vimeo.
Any way you spell them, they’re a screenwriting staple. (via Movie City Indie)
McGuffin by Hitchcock from isaac niemand on Vimeo.
Any way you spell them, they’re a screenwriting staple. (via Movie City Indie)
A few months ago, I discussed how Every Villain is a Hero — very few bad guys perceive themselves as bad guys, so you need to think of their motivation in heroic terms.
I just finished playing the Descent into Darkness scenario for Battle for Wesnoth, ((Wesnoth is an old open-source game now available for iPad.)) which provides a surprisingly good example of this lesson.
The story follows Malin Keshar, a young mage trying to save his village from orcs. Desperate, he uses a little necromancy in a pinch, which gets him banished from his homeland. As the twelve chapters unfold, bad decisions snowball until the story reaches a satisfyingly bleak conclusion.
Reading up on the scenario afterwards, I came upon this description of Malin’s dilemma, a trope called All of the Other Reindeer:
A character is surrounded by people who constantly put him or her down, usually because of some trait that is integral to them being a hero or villain. It seems the only responses one can make to this are the extremes: “put up with it silently” or “let them die/kill them all.”
If a hero, the character will constantly show their virtue by putting up with it and saving their tormentors’ lives again and again. Said tormentors will be grateful for about five seconds (that is, until the end of the episode), and then start it up again.
If a villain, they’ll inevitably explode and slaughter their tormentors, to the barely disguised envy of the audience. Oh, the hero will stop them eventually, but not before most of those who wronged the villain are taken out.
That’s a great roadmap for one kind of villain backstory.
And if you haven’t spent an afternoon clicking through TV Tropes, it’s well worth the time suck.
One of my frustrations with independent film — and in particular, micro-indies of the past few years — is a lack of narrative ambition.
Flip through the catalogs of any festival and you’ll see movies with fascinating characters and rich settings in which *nothing really happens,* as if the filmmakers took a Dogma vow to avoid plot.
My hunch is that it’s actually a consequence of thinking small. If you’re making a movie on a limited budget, it may put real constraints on your locations, schedule and cast size.
But that frugality doesn’t need to limit your story. Story is free.
Waiting around for things
——
I spent last week at the Sundance Screenwriters Lab, working with writer-directors on their next projects. I don’t want to single out any one script — I’m eager to see all of these movies made. These filmmakers are very talented.
But I often found myself pausing at page 45 asking “What’s happened so far?” and “What am I curious about?” And too often, the answer was *not much.*
Some of my red flags:
* Are characters waiting around for something?
* Do they take half-steps, then retreat?
* Do major events (death, abortion, incest) happen off-screen, or before the movie begins?
* Do people talk about food?
* Could you swap a scene from page 10 and page 34 without changing much?
A few of these projects would fall within the loose borders of the mumblecore movement, stories that focus on the sputtering interactions of a few well-educated characters. This is no ding on the genre; I like my Humpday just fine.
But I wonder if filmmakers are looking to mumblecore movies as an excuse for underwriting and avoiding character conflict.
A lot of story can happen even when you’re constrained to a few locations. Hamlet takes place in a few rooms. So does The Usual Suspects. Both Go and The Nines pack a lot into each of their three-part sections. And while Sex, Lies and Videotape might seem low-plot, the story keeps forcing characters to make choices and face the consequences.
In meeting with the screenwriters at Sundance, I challenged them to look for scenes in which characters were talking about things and show them doing those things. Often, the omitted scenes weren’t more expensive than what they would replace — but they were more difficult to write. The beginning of an affair is trickier than showing it mid-course. A trapped child is uncomfortable to write, but compelling to watch.
The writing is always going to be the least expensive but most challenging part of the process. Making a low-budget movie is a study in compromises. Story shouldn’t be one of them.
What weight do you give professional reading services? You know, the dudes that read your script, mark it up, make suggestions, tweak it, and send it back? Do you recommend anyone or company in particular?
— Chance
Other than my assistants, I’ve never paid anyone to read my scripts. All the notes I’ve gotten have come from friends and colleagues, many of them producers or screenwriters.
Reciprocity is a big part of relationship-building. When I was starting out, I would give hours of notes to friends, working through several drafts with them. In turn, they would read my scripts. I got my first agent through one such screenwriter friend who was interning for a producer at Columbia.
I was fortunate in that essentially all of my LA friends were from film school, and many of them were really smart. But you actually only need one or two smart people. One set of brilliant notes is more helpful than a dozen mediocre ones.
If you can’t find that one great note-giver amid your circle, it’s possible that you’d benefit from paying someone. I don’t have any names to recommend, but if I were in your place, I’d look for a few things:
1. A sample set of notes. I wouldn’t pay anyone who didn’t write clearly and logically.
2. A face-to-face meeting. Good feedback ends up being a conversation. In addition to written notes, I’d want an hour to talk through the issues and options.
3. No producers/managers. I want insightful feedback, not connections. Some producers and managers can give great notes, but I shouldn’t be paying them upfront to do it.
4. Someone who can say ‘not for me.’ Every person has genres that simply don’t click. Before taking my money, a reader should ask what my script is about, and respectfully decline if it’s outside of her domain.
I’m certain there are good paid readers out there. A few will probably leave comments. So let me stress, *I’m not recommending or endorsing any of them.* Caveat scriptor.