John August

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Characters who are not yet important

QandA, Words on the page

questionmarkIf the first time a character appears in a screenplay, it is in a scene in which he does nothing — he is just a peripheral presence — should he be introduced at that point?

The specific scene I’m writing is a funeral. There are four characters in that scene that we haven’t met yet. In that scene they don’t really do or say anything notable; they are peripheral mourners. They will all become significant characters later on in the screenplay. Does convention dictate that I introduce them to the reader at that point? (When we meet them later on, we’re supposed to recognize them as having been present at the funeral.)

— Ed
New York City

Yes. If a character needs to be in a scene, you need to put him there. If you don’t, there’s every possibility he’ll get dropped out of the schedule when it comes time to shoot that scene. Screenplays are literary works, but they’re also instructions. Recipes of a sort. While it might be tempting to leave something out — “Of course they’ll remember that Balthazar is at the funeral!” — assumptions like this invite mistakes.

Ideally, the very first time we meet a character, his introduction should be meaningful, giving us some reason to remember who he is and keep us curious what he’ll do. But there are valid reasons why this might not happen, and crowded moments like funerals and weddings are one example.

So if you need to include a character in this way, remember that you’ll need to make your proper introduction later. For example, in the funeral scene, you might simply write…

  • Among the mourners are JOHN BALTHAZAR (50) and his wispy daughter FIONA (21), who hover near the edge of the crowd. Closer to the action are two imposing men in sunglasses — ELAN and MAX, both 25. We’ll meet them all later, but for now, they’re merely paying their respects.

Later in the script, when we really need to meet one of them, we can do the proper setup…

  • Glenn sits across the table from John Balthazar, who we saw briefly at the funeral. With broad shoulders and a piercing gaze, he has the look of a Viking forced to wear to a suit. He keeps his knife and fork clutched like weapons throughout the meal.

You don’t capitalize his name in this second introduction. Since it will be the first time he’s spoken, the dialogue should be enough to help the reader notice that someone new has joined the story.

For Your Consideration

Film Industry, Projects, The Nines

One of the perks of being in the WGA is that you get sent scripts and screener DVDs for many of the year’s best movies. Just this week, I got Juno and The Savages. My Christmas holiday to-watch list keeps getting longer.

WGA members are sent these scripts and screeners in the hopes that they’ll be nominated for the awards, obviously. ((Specifically the WGA Awards, which I have a hunch will not be picketed, unlike some others.)) But it’s not always clear why some movies are “For Your Consideration,” while others aren’t.

The answer has less to do with critics than calendars; the decision is made months before the movie is released. It’s made by studio marketing departments, who are looking at dates, cast and comparable films to figure out whether it’s worth the money and time it takes to mount a serious FYC campaign.

Sony decided Big Fish was an awards contender, so they bought the ads and publicity to support it. We screened for the National Board of Review and all of the other tastemakers. In the end, we got a handful of nominations. I got Best Adapted Screenplay nominations from the Broadcast Film Critics and the BAFTAs.

But a few years earlier, the studio didn’t try to get anything for Go. We’d debuted at Sundance, and had gotten terrific reviews, but since we hit theaters in February of that year, there were other movies for the studio to promote by the time awards season came. Doug Liman, Sarah Polley and I would have been longshots — but our names could certainly have been placed in the mix. But for Sony, a couple of award nominations would have meant very little for an R-rated teen comedy already at Blockbuster.

With the summer release of The Nines, I knew there was little chance we’d be remembered come awards time — and zero money for ads, mailers and screenings to refresh people’s memories. ((It didn’t matter that we’d only come out in New York, LA and Austin. Most of the awards-givers are conveniently housed there.)) I would have loved some actorly appreciation for Ryan and Melissa, who are consistently singled out in reviews for being terrific in multiple roles, even by critics who didn’t like the movie.

But I’ve tried not to be frustrated when looking at the 14th full page For Your Consideration ad in Variety for a “worthy” movie I know is worthless. The awards campaign was always part of these Very Important Movies’ marketing. It wasn’t for ours. Our target audience was the intersection of sci-fi geeks and Sundance aficionados, who we’ll reach better when the movie comes out on DVD on January 29th.

We didn’t send out the script of The Nines, although it’s been available for download for months. With a bit of stomping and fuss, I probably could have gotten the distributor to mail it to at least WGA members. And I kind of regret not pushing for it, because I have a hunch that the small subset of members who actually read the scripts they’re sent ((My great frustration is that awards for Best Screenplay are given without any direct exposure to the screenplay. You’re watching the finished movie and guessing which ones were well-written. The more honest award would be given to the director for Not Fucking Up What Was Probably a Good Script.)) are the ones inclined to log in and do the new online nominations for the WGA Awards.

So if you’re a WGA member who falls into that category, let me invite you to read it and nominate it if it seems like one of the five best contenders for Original Screenplay this year. (We’re number #109 on the ballot. The deadline is January 8th at noon.)

Did that feel uncomfortable? Because it was. It’s so much nicer to sit behind a glossy trade ad than ask a reader for his or her vote. But I just did.

I’ll be heading out for a Christmas holiday, but I’ll be checking in occasionally. If I don’t see you, have a good one.

Strike, days 42 and 43

Strike

Yesterday was the last official day of picketing before the new year. I was happy to see a large contingent turning out at 5:30 a.m. for my home gate at Paramount. Blog reader Andrew brought along his girlfriend Olivia. Since she’s not even a future WGA member, I felt an obligation to promise her that if the UCLA psych-bio majors ever go on strike, I’ll carry a sign at her picket.

Paul Weitz came as well, which gave us an opportunity to talk about the experience of being in the audience at a Sarah Silverman show. Mostly, it’s really funny. And then a moment comes when you realize the boundary between hilarious and offensive has been breached, and you find yourself replaying the last few jokes to figure out exactly when it happened.

I missed the general membership meeting last night in Santa Monica, because (a) we had guests over for dinner, and (b) open microphones make me squirm. I was in bed by nine.

This afternoon, I’m having the Disney Feature Fellows over for a chat about craft and career. It’s a cold, drizzly, sleepy day, which seems perfect for quasi-academic conversation.

In a previous comment thread, reader Paul Ramos (a friend from Boulder) asks…

Is it totally outside of the realm of possibility that the WGA can form its own production house that offers the terms that writers are looking for? Or is it just completely financially un-doable? Why must writers deal with production houses that don’t want to play ball? I realize that these questions probably seem rather naive. But wouldn’t distributors of media still be interested in a movie shot by the WGA vs. by Paramount or some other large production house?

Not naive at all. While the WGA itself can’t be in the movie or television production business (it’s a union which represents writers, rather than employing them), there’s nothing preventing writers from finding alternate sources of funding and setting up their own productions.

And, in fact, that’s happening as we speak. There are venture capitalists who recognize this as a unique opportunity: you have giant pool of unemployed content creators, and a hungry distribution system (the internet). Depending on the nature of those deals, they would probably need WGA vetting. But there’s a history of alternative deals being reached.

At the Indie Gate last Thursday, I heard it put thusly:

After the first time negotiations fell apart, the message was, “Come back, baby. We can work this out.”

After this last blow-out, the message is slowly becoming, “Maybe we should see other people.”

Look, the strike will end eventually. We’ll go back to working with and for the studios, writing TV series and summer blockbusters that make money for everyone. But we’re at a strange point in time. Certain ideas, certain properties, may not need giant corporations behind them. If you created the next South Park, or the next It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, you as the creator might find it more profitable to deliver it through the internet, where the playing fields are much more level.

That’s one irony of the strike: the key issue of internet distribution may become more viable because of the strike itself.