John August

QandA

Women in film

Film Industry, Story and Plot

Screenwriters: Think back over the scripts you’ve written, and ask yourself three questions about each one:

  1. Are there two or more female characters with names?
  2. Do they talk to each other?
  3. If they talk to each other, do they talk about something other than a man?

This is the Bechdel test, first articulated by cartoonist Alison Bechdel and amended by others over the years. ((The origin of the test is complicated, and very Googleable.)) You’d think it would be a very low bar to climb over. You’d be surprised.

Let’s be clear: many, many great movies don’t pass this test, and many terrible movies do. It’s not even a particularly good gauge for determining a film’s feminist content; Transformers 2 meets the requirement because Megan Fox receives a compliment on her hair.

So if this rule doesn’t necessarily speak to quality or content, what’s the point? My friend Beth, who took all the women’s studies classes I never did and therefore yawns at the mention of this old axiom, would argue it’s meaningless checkbox-marking.

But for screenwriters, I think it’s still fascinating. After all, we’re the ones who ultimately put characters in scenes together.

Looking back through my movies, I’m struck by how rarely the female characters actually do talk to each other. In Big Fish, it’s only a brief moment with Sandra and Josephine. In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, it’s a throwaway moment between Violet and Veruca. Titan A.E. fails the test unless you know that the alien Stith is technically female.

In each of these cases, I had to spend a few minutes just to come up with these (admittedly slight) examples.

Also, I find it fascinating that the Reverse Bechdel Test is almost meaningless. Pretty much every movie made includes two named male characters talking about something other than a woman.

Does acknowledging the situation change anything? Maybe. I’ll certainly ask myself these questions about future scripts. For now, my upcoming projects all seem to pass, but they have a familiar paradigm: a single main female who mostly interacts with the men in the story.

Formatting the faux-documentary

Formatting, Genres, QandA

questionmarkI want to know more about proper formatting of the new documentary aesthetic that’s been brought about by shows like The Office and Modern Family. I’m referencing specifically the ironic or conspiratorial glances into camera, the unexplained interview shots. These shows seem to have the assumption that there’s a documentary crew present. I love that! And I love the potential for humor it brings about.

My question is this: how would that be written in a script other than through the use of “into camera”? Is there a way to indicate that an entire film or pilot would be shot in this manner? I’m also interested in your general stylistic take on this and whether or not you think we’ll see this approach used in feature films successfully?

— Ashleigh
Los Angeles CA

The faux-documentary trend has detractors, but I think it works very well in the two shows you mention.

Each show will have its own house style for how they format it in the script, ((As always, if you’re writing a spec episode of a existing show, hunt down one of its scripts and follow its lead exactly.)) but it’s usually handled in the slugline when the whole scene is directed towards the camera:

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY [INTERVIEW]

MARK

No. I’m not disappointed. Not at all. Surprised, sure. Dejected? A little. Angry maybe, but not furious. I guess I’d say I’m “disappointed” and leave it at that.

These shows tend to treat the camera as an unnamed character who either (a) is aware of something other characters in the scene aren’t, or (b) might take something embarrassing out of context unless clarified.

If a character is directing a line or a look to camera, call that out. (If it helps, think of “camera” as a producer standing right next to the lens.)

CANDY KANE

It just seems too big to fit. Maybe if we greased it up or something.

Laura gestures to camera -- see?

Reference the camera sparingly. Unless the point of your script is the documentary itself (c.f. The Comeback), you’re likely to undercut the comedy or drama by acknowledging that characters are aware their actions are being filmed.

Worst-case thinking for the screenwriter

Genres, Psych 101

Bruce Schneier on the danger of worst-case thinking:

You can’t be too careful!

Actually, you can. You can refuse to fly because of the possibility of plane crashes. You can lock your children in the house because of the possibility of child predators. You can eschew all contact with people because of the possibility of hurt.

He argues that we’re making bad decisions on the basis of what is possible rather than what is probable. Does anticipating disaster really make us safer? Are the costs worth it?

Schneier and I agree that one group certainly benefits from this kind of Black Swan doom-and-glooming: screenwriters.

Basically, any fear that would make a good movie plot is amenable to worst-case thinking.

When I’m waiting for a meeting, I’ll often wonder, “If Godzilla fell back into this building, knocking it over, would I climb ‘up’ or ‘down’ to get out?” That’s somewhat productive thinking for a screenwriter.

For a policy-maker, less so.

Desperate punchlines

Words on the page

Jane Espenson hates that McDonald’s commercial because it’s trying too hard:

[Our showrunner] told us not to put the funniest word at the end of the line, but to make sure the line continued past it. This seemed to me to go against one of the basic principals of joke writing, but now I see the value in it. He wanted casual, easy, “thrown away” funny, not needy rim-shot comedy, begging for laughs by hitting every comedy-made-easy rule.

And yes, I’ll probably keep linking to each and every new Jane post. She writes so well about the details and why they matter.