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Writing for the very small screen

February 13, 2007 Film Industry, QandA

I just read a great article by David Denby of the New Yorker on the quickly shifting “end-user” experience in cinema. He bemoans the technology convergence that has squeezed the Hollywood blockbuster into his 2″ square video iPod screen.

Whereas he is uncomfortable with the physics (and optics) of viewing content from handheld devices, he sees the youngest generation of consumers as “platform agnostic,” willing to contort themselves into “pretzels… cuddling it under the covers after lights-out.”

He points out that the length of a 50’s pop single was “influenced by what would fit on a forty-five-r.p.m. seven-inch disk” and that “the length and the episodic structure of the Victorian novel—Dickens’s novels, especially—were at least partly created by writers and editors working on deadline for monthly periodicals. Television, for a variety of commercial and spatial reasons, developed the single-set or two-set sitcom. Format always affects form, and the exhibition space changes what’s exhibited.”

Now my question for you. What’s your perspective on format affecting form? Will you ever write for 2″x2″?

–John
Los Angeles

Yes, for two reasons.

The first is because I have absolutely no choice in the matter. Every movie and TV show created will eventually play on iPod and similar screens. And soon after, on virtual-screen ~~googles~~ goggles, holographic projectors, and direct-input brain jacks. With the arrival of new technology, the past isn’t rewritten. It’s simply reformatted.

But the second reason I’ll write for the very small screen is less pessimistic. I think there’s an opportunity for a new kind of storytelling suited to the more-intimate experience of watching a screen 12 inches from your face. Just as television developed its own storytelling grammar–deliberate act breaks, season arcs, a reliance on close-ups–the iPod and mobile phone media will demand their own unique ways of telling a story.

Today’s teenagers are often slammed for having short attention spans, but I think the real change is that a generation weaned on the internet, DVD and TiVo isn’t willing to surrender control of entertainment.I’d call them “actively passive.” They want to watch, but they want to be doing something else at the same time. It’s impossible to read a novel while watching “Two a Days,” but a magazine like EW is a perfect fit. And while it’s unconscionable to text message in a movie theater,Seriously, this is where I become Cranky Old Man. This is not your living room. Shut off your damn phone and watch the movie. I admire how the mobile generation never disconnects from their tribe(s).

In the next few years, someone (maybe MTV) will develop the tiny-screen equivalent of Must See TV, something that is uniquely tailored to iPods and the generation who can’t imagine life before them. It will be interesting to witness not only how the format develops, but what impact it will have on big-screen movies. (Which, for the record, I believe will still exist 10, 20 and 50 years from now.)

How to write dialogue

February 7, 2007 Words on the page, Writing Process

Continuing my efforts to blog less about the profession of screenwriting and more about the craft, I thought I’d offer up some thoughts on dialogue. As with my earlier post on How to Write a Scene, this isn’t an exhaustive tutorial by any means. But it’s at least a guide for how I do it.

1. Listen to how actual people talk

We all watch movies and television, which is chock full of dialogue: good, bad and inane. One might think it helpful to listen to great actors speaking great words. It’s not. In fact, it will probably screw you up.

It’s like trying to paint landscapes based on how other artists paint landscapes. The best you can do is a crude approximation. In order to paint a great landscape, you need to get your butt out in the cornfield and paint what you see. There’s really no alternative.

Fortunately, the world is full of dialogue cornfields. Sitting at Fatburger for lunch, I eavesdropped on two engineers discussing fire door trim allowances, and two women in their 60’s clucking about how small the hamburgers were. Far more important than the content of the conversations was the flow, the back-and-forth. We tend to think of dialogue as a tennis volley, with the subject being hit back and forth between speakers. But when you really listen, you realize that people talk over each other constantly, and rarely finish a complete thought.

To get a sense of this flow, you need to stop paying attention to the actual words being spoken. It’s the auditory equivalent of un-focusing your eyes. Listen for which speaker is dominating the conversation, and how often the other party chimes in to acknowledge he’s still paying attention. (“Uh-huh.” “Yeah.” “Really?”) Questions are often not phrased as questions, and in real life, no one speaks with exclamation points.

How often should you eavesdrop? Pretty much constantly, with particular focus on finding interesting speakers. Some people are inherently funny, and if you soak up enough of their rhythms you can recreate them on the page fairly faithfully. But even the annoying woman ahead of you at the checkout line deserves a listen. You never know when she might come in handy.

2. Figure out the flow of your dialogue

Generally, before I put pen to paper, I let the scene loop in my head 10 or 40 times. Those first cycles are silent, but eventually characters begin to talk. Based on what needs to happen in the scene, it’s often pretty clear who’ll be saying what. But figuring out the flow — the how, the when, the why — takes time. You can rush it, but you’ll often end up with too many words in the wrong order. Or worse, you’ll end up with characters talking at each other rather than with each other.

So imagine watching your scene, but in a foreign language with the subtitles turned off. What does the talking feel like? What’s the emotion behind the words? Who’s in control? There’s a classic drama exercise in which actors have to stage a scene speaking only faux-Chinese. That’s what you’re looking for at this stage. Not the words, but the texture.

3. Pattern out the information

Conversations in real life are often empty (“these burgers are too small”), but movie conversations almost always involve an exchange of information (“the fingerprints don’t match” or “I’m not sure I ever loved you”). Your job as a writer is figuring out how your characters would tell each other the information.

Let’s say Bob needs to tell Mary that her dog has been eaten by a python. As the writer, you need to decide not only what facts Bob knows, but how he’s anticipating Mary will react to the news. This will determine not only how he starts the conversation (“Say, you were talking about how you wanted to get a new dog, right?”) but every subsequent decision along the way.

Of course, as the screenwriter you’re not solely interested in helping the characters convey information to each other; your primary focus is getting that information to the audience. The challenge is to do the latter while pretending to the former. So if it’s slipping a bit of exposition in a joke, or staging an altercation to reveal a piece of backstory, find a way.

Bad dialogue tends to spray out information in every direction, whereas smart dialogue sneaks the facts in while you’re otherwise entertained.

4. Write the scribble version

The scribble version is the very rough draft of a scene, devoid of formatting, punctuation and other garnishes. My scribble versions tend to be largely dialogue, with an emphasis on the overall flow rather than finding le mot juste.

5. Write the nice version

Once you have the blueprint for the scene, it’s time to go back and start worrying about getting each word right. Great dialogue has a melody to it, and achieving that is probably unteachable. But you can write pretty good dialogue simply by reading each line aloud, over and over, smoothing off the awkwardness through better words or a different composition.

Movie dialogue is how characters would speak if they had a few extra seconds to compose their thoughts between lines. It’s just slightly optimized. But it’s very easy to overshoot and end up in soap opera land. Keeping dialogue real but efficient is one of the hardest challenges in screenwriting.

6. Ask: Are characters listening, or just speaking?

Once you have the scene finished, take a look back and make sure your characters aren’t just speaking because it’s their turn. That’s a common problem, perpetuated (I believe) by the prevalence of exposition-heavy crime dramas.

BOOTHE
Two campers found the body in a culvert five miles down river.
GARMAN
Toxicology shows arsenic in the well.
BOOTHE
Looks like we got ourselves a serial killer.

While actors could probably pull this off as a conversation (with a lot of head nodding), it’s not hard to get Garman listening and responding:

BOOTHE
Two campers found the body in a culvert five miles down river. Once we get the toxicology back…
GARMAN
Just came. Arsenic in the well.
BOOTHE
Looks like we got ourselves a serial killer.

7. Ask: Is there a shorter version that works as well?

Many times, the best way to improve dialogue is to cut it. Once you’ve let a scene sit for a while, revisit it with a red pen and look for what could be cut. If a piece of information isn’t essential, it should probably go. And a joke isn’t worth it if you’ve had to break the scene to achieve it.

Eddie Murphy on Parade

February 4, 2007 Parade

Several readers have expressed bewilderment at this site’s weekly Parade feature, asking, “What is the point, exactly?”

That’s a question worthy of koan-like contemplation: can utter pointlessness have a point?

International readers in particular have no frame of reference for Parade, so let me offer the briefest of introductions. Parade comes free in the Sunday paper. (No one would ever buy it.) Its feature story is generally about one of three topics: a threat to your family, a threat to your health, or how great America is.The perfect Parade cover story would hit the trifecta: “How one small town stopped a deadly disease that was killing our kids.” In addition to the uniquely unfunny Howard Huge comic, Parade includes Marilyn Vos Savant, an ageless woman who claims to be clever.

But the most delicious part of Parade is right inside the cover: Walter Scott’s Personality Parade. It’s a Q and A about random celebrities and detritus of popular culture, with very wide latitude for topicality. Some might look at the improbable phrasing of the “reader questions” and conclude that they’re simply fabricated by a soulless publicity machine.

But I choose to believe.

I choose to believe that average Americans are dying to know more information about Phil Collins’s new girlfriend, yet are incapable of the most rudimentary Google searches. I choose to believe that it is complete coincidence that a reader in Bumfucket expresses curiosity about a minor actor’s next role the exact week said actor’s new TV movie airs.

And because of my deliberate and irrational naivete, I choose to see my weekly re-answering of Parade questions not as parody or satire, but a celebration of pointless celebrity gawking. Parade’s journalism is like Las Vegas’s architecture: empty, false and kind of fascinating.

Now that I’ve answered the meta-questions,The other frequent question is why I turn off comments on the Parade articles. The answer is simple: just to frustrate you. let’s begin with this week’s installment, which originally ran in the January 14th issue.

What do you make of Eddie Murphy’s claim that his divorce inspired his Oscar-worthy Dreamgirls performance?—Sam Rush, Kailua, Hawaii

Great question, Sam. By asking, “What do you make of it?” you invite skepticism, yet keep the door open for just about any answer. Personally, I can’t imagine a celebrity lying for any reason, so I take Eddie at his word.

Could you tell me how the ’50s film star Jeff Chandler died?—Winnona Evanauski, Holton, Mich.

Shortly after completing his role in Merrill’s Marauders (1962), Chandler entered a Culver City hospital and had surgery for a spinal disc herniation on May 13, 1961. There were severe complications, an artery was damaged and Chandler hemorrhaged. In a seven and a half hour emergency operation over and above the original surgery, he was given an enormous amount of blood, 55 pints. Another operation followed, date unknown, where he received an additional 20 pints of blood. An average adult has about 14 to 18 pints of blood, so his entire blood volume was replaced 4 to 5 times! Chandler fought hard to live, but expired June 17, 1961. His death was deemed malpractice and resulted in a large lawsuit and settlement for his children. Tony Curtis and Gerald Mohr were pallbearers at Chandler’s funeral.

Do you know where I found this information? An amazing website I discovered called Wikipedia. Be careful, though. It’s apparently written by ordinary people, as opposed to professionals like Walter Scott.

I saw a trailer for The Painted Veil, with real-life couple Naomi Watts and Liev Schreiber. Did they meet on that film?—Diane Silver, Canton, Ohio

Diane, you saw a trailer for a movie, and really think it’s worth bothering our nationwide readership with your silly question? How’s this: spend your $9 to see the friggin’ movie, and if you’re still curious, then maybe Walter can get your answer.

You asked readers to respond to your selections of the Top 10 football players of all time. What were the results?—Thomas T., Cedar Rapids, Iowa

100% agreement. Parade readers know better than to disagree with their intellectual superiors, be they real or fabricated.

Sean Bean, best known as heroic Boromir in Lord of the Rings, plays a sadistic kidnapper in a remake of The Hitcher. What drew him to the role?—Joanna Jones, Columbus, Ohio

Personal experience. “Back in the early 90’s, I went through a phase where I liked to pick up hitchhikers and put them through psychological torture,” says the classically-trained Bean, 47. “This was a chance to revisit those days.” Would he let his 8-year old daughter watch the film? “No, she’s too young.”

Kristin Chenoweth won rave reviews for The Apple Tree, now on Broadway. What’s next for the talented singer?—D. Silver, Devon, Pa.

Dinner. She’s thinking about having a salad. But the salmon looks really good, too. It’s just so hard to decide. What are you having?

Jaime Pressly, who plays Joy on My Name Is Earl, is pregnant. Who’s the father?—Tammy M., Detroit, Mich.

Surprisingly, Earl. “A lot of people wonder how I could have gotten pregnant by a fictional character,” says Pressly, 29. “But look at Mary and Jesus. I mean, it’s completely presidential. (sic)” It’s also a reminder that no method of birth control is 100% effective.

Ivanka Trump is back with her dad this month on The Apprentice. Does she also intend to continue modeling?—Theresa Vaughn, Cleveland, Ohio

If by “modeling,” you mean her father’s history of dating beautiful women who somehow tolerate his presence despite his being physically and spiritually repellent, then no.

After seeing Home of the Brave, I’m curious: How does 50 Cent rate the demands of acting vs. rapping?—Matt Z., West Chester, Pa.

“It’s not a literal thing, you know what I mean? Everything, if you give yourself over to it, eventually transcends into something artistic and that’s always a world that is a bit gray and indefinable. You do all the kind of concrete work that you can do, the documentaries or the audio tapes or the visuals or what you read, you interview people. I keep saying I put myself alone in a room four months before we started to shoot and tried to get in that room everyday for an hour or two with all these materials that I had and everything I could, and just start working. And what that is, is something that I had to figure out. A lot of it was practice and things like that of technical stuff. But ultimately all that had to be one. Where it wasn’t just imitation, it wasn’t just mimicry, it was creating a character. A real guy and it was trial and error.”

Actually, that was Philip Seymour Hoffman. Trust me, you don’t want to ask 50 Cent about the craft.

Jennifer Lopez on Parade

January 30, 2007 Parade

I was unprepared for the volume of mail I got wondering what had happened to the weekly Parade feature. Sorry. I was busy premiering a movie. But that’s really no excuse. Walter Scott manages to write a weekly column despite not actually existing.

Today’s questions originally ran in the January 28th, 2007 issue of Parade.

The buzz on Jennifer Lopez’s upcoming movie, El Cantante, isn’t so hot. Her clothing line, JLO by Jennifer Lopez, also is struggling. Why is she slipping? — Alexandra L., New York, N.Y.

Because she’s months behind on her payments. Jenny, it’s $10,000 per month for favorable mentions in Parade. Not per year. Maybe you’re getting us confused with one of those other rags (like Newsday, uggh), but look through the contract, hon. We’d love to do a nice puff piece like “Jennifer Lopez shows you hidden Miami.” James Brady already has his cursor blinking. But just in case, we have freshly written “questions” ready to hit you from all sides. Let’s start with the A’s: Affleck, Adultery and that Ass of yours. Don’t make us get alphabetical. You’ll be dead by the E’s.

I was surprised to learn that singer-songwriter Phil Collins is dating a TV journalist from New York City. Who is she, and what happened to his wife? — Jill Clayborn, Phoenix, Ariz.

Really, Jill? How surprised were you on a scale of one to ten? A seven, maybe? It is pretty shocking when a former rock star splits from his third wife. Our advice is to take the rest of the day off from work. Build-A-Bear will have to get by without you.

Montel Williams wears a black diamond bracelet. Does it have special meaning for him? — Rosie Davis, Seattle, Wash.

No.

Producer/writer David E. Kelley (Ally McBeal, The Practice, Chicago Hope) has disappeared from TV. What’s happened to him? — Nadine Lester, Greenwich, Conn.

I can understand your worry. After a decade of simultaneous Emmy-winning shows, Kelley is currently running a single program: Boston Legal, which my staff tells me is actually written in Japanese and quickly translated by Babelfish. I can only presume the reason for Kelley’s slacking off is that he suddenly realized that he’s married to Michelle Pfeiffer, and he should hit that while he can.

A while back, you said Ben Affleck was interested in running for office. Is he ready to take the plunge in 2008? — Larry Kramer, Los Angeles, Calif.

Yes. Sources tell us he’s planning a campaign for PTA secretary at the prestigious Crossroads School, but won’t officially announce his intentions until his daughter is old enough to walk.

I heard that Reese Witherspoon now makes $15 million a picture. Is she really worth that much? — Harley S., Santa Fe, N.M.

Reese Witherspoon is worth her weight in gold. Guesstimating she tips the scales at 50 kilos, and with gold trading at $20,800/kilo, that would put her worth at just over $1 million. The extra 14 million is for spunk. And don’t forget that Oscar!

I see that Richard Pryor’s daughter, Rain, wrote a biography of the late comedian. Is it a “Daddy Dearest” book? — Tricia Guthrie, Lambertville, N.J.

I’ll let you know after this month’s book club meeting. I just hope everyone’s actually read it this time, unlike the last meeting, when Sally Jansen tried to fake her way through Barak Obama’s book. Honestly, if she didn’t make amazing brownies, we would have cut her loose months ago.

Two-time U.S. bronze medalist Angela Nikodinov is now touring with Smucker’s Stars on Ice. What caused her two-year absence from skating? — Mike Anderson, Syracuse, N.Y.

The ill-conceived “Skippy Peanut Butter on Ice” tour. Five skaters died in that debacle.

With the Taliban making a comeback in Afghanistan, how much help can we expect from President Musharraf, our Pakistani ally? — T.D., Boston, Mass.

Finally. Thank you for asking a question that makes use of Walter Scott’s decades of experience in Middle East affairs. The answer: more than a smidgen, less than a heap.

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