John August

QandA

Slumdog Coincidentalist

Follow Up, QandA

A reader writes in requesting a reexamination of my post “The Perils of Coincidence” in light of an acclaimed movie which is already a screenwriting award contender:

questionmarkThis weekend, I saw Slumdog Millionaire, a story that is succinctly described by the equation: “I knew the answer to this obscure question because this farfetched event happened to me once. And repeat.”

Is coincidence good now?

— Andre Gayle
London

I would argue that Jamal’s knowing the right answers falls into my category of a Premise Coincidence, much the same way that in Die Hard, John McClane just happens to be in the building when the villains attack, or in the original Spider-Man, Peter Parker just happens to get bitten by the radioactive spider.

In each of these cases, the coincidence is the reason why the story is happening.

But I can see why Andre is bristling. In my original post, I single out luck and chance as being particularly flimsy pegs upon which to hang a story, and there are a couple of answers in Slumdog that seem arbitrary or tangential (the cricketeer comes to mind). ((A reader points out that the cricket question is actually an answer that’s handled mostly in the present-day story.)) However, the overall flashback structure sets a rule and sticks by it: every time we jump back, we’ll see how he got the answer.

I addressed this in my original post, calling it correlation:

Rather than ask an audience to swallow a bunch of little implausibilities, try bundling them together.

In Heroes, imagine if each character had a completely unique origin story: Claire got her powers from a shaman; Sylar is an alien; Peter has a magic ring. You’d get frustrated pretty quickly, because a lot of screen time would go towards explaining why and how. Instead, the creators wisely decided the characters all had some mysterious gene mutation activated by an environmental change. The audience is willing to make that one big leap, because they’re not asked to make similar leaps each time a new character is introduced.

In fact, the biggest coincidence in Slumdog would have to be that the answers Jamal needs just happen to be found chronologically in his life story. That’s something you buy or you don’t. It didn’t bother me.

How do I show simultaneity?

Formatting, QandA

questionmarkMy script involves a “spirit” or “ghost” character. He can appear to people on a whim, and he says typical meta-clever, wise stuff. The thing is, he’s beyond all time and space, so, for example, he can be in two places at once.

I want to create a scene where this spirit character is talking to two different characters at the same time, but in different places. In other words, the spirit is talking to both Alan in Cleveland and Betsy in Los Angeles, but it occurs at 2:00PM at the same time (ignoring the time zone changes). What would be the most effective way to do that?

— Kevin
Neptune, NJ

You’re confusing what happens inside the world of the movie with what the audience experiences. When we’re watching a movie, or reading a script, we don’t know or care what the clock says — unless you tell us that it is important.

If for story purposes two scenes need to be happening simultaneously, you’ll generally be cutting between them. Max runs up the stairs while Lisa sits down at her desk. Max reaches the fourth floor while Lisa wakes her computer. Max reaches Lisa’s door just as she’s about to open the email message. That’s six short scenes which play together as a sequence.

Alternately, you might sync up time after the fact by replaying a moment or giving some other signal to the audience about a shift in time. GO does this twice, repeating the scene in the break room to let the story fork in different directions. ((Go also features two sides of a phone conversation separated by half a movie, but it’s not crucial to line up those moments.))

Split-screen is another possibility, though on the page you’d almost certainly write it as typical cross-cutting.

How do I include animated sequences?

Formatting, QandA, Words on the page

questionmarkI’m writing something at the moment which, while it is mostly live action, has scenes of animation featuring the main cast which are also occasionally intercut with live action scenes. How would you format this?

— Nic
Essex, England

When you have entire scenes that are animated, you can handle it in the slugline.

EXT. MARTIN’S HOUSE – DAY [ANIMATED]

A big, cheerful Kellogg’s sun rises behind the house. Bluebirds flutter from the trees, TWEETING a delightful melody.

If animated characters cross into the real world à la Roger Rabbit, you’ll want to consistently label them as such.

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

Martin opens the front door to find Karen sweaty and half-dressed on the couch. Only when she sits back do we see she’s on top of Animated Martin, who is similarly disheveled.

A long beat.

MARTIN

So the ink on the sheets..?

KAREN

The kids weren’t coloring, no.

Your goal should always be clarity. You want the reader to follow what you’re doing without dragging down the storytelling.

Do I need a caveat?

Pitches, Psych 101, QandA

questionmarkMy question is simple, albeit mildly existential. I recently completed a spec — a raunchy, R-rated, Apatow-esque comedy — that a mother couldn’t love. Even mine. Think “Something About Mary” and you’ll begin to get the picture.

Of course, buried in the premise, there’s a sweet love story and all that jazz, but it’s pretty crass stuff, replete with humor that, if taken the wrong way, could easily offend. Naturally, as an aspiring writer, I don’t want agents and the like to think: “Man, that Evan sure is homophobic and likes to talk about Mormon orgies.” Is there a way to address this in a query letter? Pitch meeting? Or should I just assume everyone will understand writers don’t necessarily create characters that they agree with?

— Evan
Los Angeles

Don’t stress over it. Hollywood folk are savvy enough to realize that actors who play serial killers aren’t themselves dangerous, and that the guys who wrote Saw aren’t any sicker than most screenwriters.

In a query letter, don’t back away from your premise or your big moments. If you wrote raunchy, let them know it’s raunchy. In a pitch meeting, there will be plenty of time to establish that you’re a normal human being without gay Mormon issues. And if they like your idea, they won’t care one way or the other.