Barney Lichtenstein: A Story Analyst's Top-10 List: #4

Having taught story analysis for film in the classroom and online through the Writers’ Program at UCLA Extension, I’ve trained a number of students who have gone on to cover screenplays for studios, production companies, and Sundance Institute. One of the tools used in the course is a top-10 list of professional screenwriting skills industry readers look for when evaluating material and writers. I call these methods “in-between details,” which are neither at the heart of premise, plot or characterization nor important issues of formatting and presentation -- they exist somewhere between the two. These in-between details often make a critical first impression, the following among the most significant, elaborated upon with examples and illustrations, which I believe can be quickly utilized. Lessons will be posted on Fridays.

#4 Secondary Characters
Do secondary characters and even minor ones speak with their own distinct voices? Not every extra or store clerk must have something witty or profound to offer, but whenever appropriate, supporting or minor characters with distinct points of view should be adding color to the mosaic (i.e. Oracle’s musings in The Matrix; “plastics” touted by a materialistic party guest in The Graduate). Secondary characters who interact with your lead throughout the plot should ideally bring out some inner quality in your hero we might not see otherwise.

Watch a musical or epic with lots of well directed extras but a weak leading man or woman -- the experience won’t be wholly satisfying, but the overall production will seem much more professional than the other way around: A terrific lead but poorly written and directed supporting cast. The same can be said for your screenplay. Even if the story analyst has some issues regarding your hero or plot, if minor characters are written with vitality and engaging, unique details, it goes a long way towards promoting your work.

One way to approach minor characters is to go scene by scene, once the screenplay is written, polishing lines of dialogue and actions, giving distinct points of view to characters your hero bumps into. Better yet, when creating minor characters initially, consider situations or points of view on their behalf which may intensify, enhance or conflict with the overall scene. A woman who sells tickets at a metro train station, for instance, may love her job and with each ticket sold offers every bit of information about the fare, platform, departure and arrival times. Perhaps the ticket line for her booth is twice as long as others due to this quirk in her personality and the hero on the run has to hide in this line, slowing down his escape. Now you’ve used a minor character to add suspense and possibly new twists to the plot.

A great variation on this type of minor character can be seen in A Few Good Men, when Tom Cruise picks up a magazine from a news vendor on the street. Rather than mundane pleasantries, each keeps trying to top the other with time worn phrases such as, “A rolling stone gathers no moss," “Catch you later,” “Unless I catch you first,” etc. The playful banter with this minor character quickly makes us like Cruise’s character as an unpretentious attorney with a sense of humor, while the news vendor adds texture and appropriate comic relief to an otherwise intense drama.

One needs to be careful though and not make every minor character too distinct. Too much spice, so to speak, with minor characters can be detrimental in its own way. Finding a balance between creating background characters who stand out or blend in with the scenery is the key.

For tip #1, click here.
For tip #2, click here.
For tip #3, click here.

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Barney Lichtenstein, former story analyst for Amblin Entertainment, New Line Cinema, and Largo Entertainment, teaches story analysis online for the Writers’ Program at UCLA Extension, and periodically assists with the training of new story analysts for the Sundance Institute and major production companies. He has served as a story editor for a multi-award-winning installment of the PBS series P.O.V., and for Voices, which won the Peabody Award, and is recipient of the UCLA Extension Outstanding Instructor Award in Screenwriting, 2006. Mr. Lichtenstein will be conducting a one day screenwriting seminar in September at UCLA Extension, comparing narrative structures of three 2008 Academy Award-nominated screenplays. Please click here for more information.

Barney Lichtenstein: A Story Analyst's Top-10 List: #3

Having taught story analysis for film in the classroom and online through the Writers’ Program at UCLA Extension, I’ve trained a number of students who have gone on to cover screenplays for studios, production companies, and Sundance Institute. One of the tools used in the course is a top-10 list of professional screenwriting skills industry readers look for when evaluating material and writers. I call these methods “in-between details,” which are neither at the heart of premise, plot or characterization nor important issues of formatting and presentation -- they exist somewhere between the two. These in-between details often make a critical first impression, the following among the most significant, elaborated upon with examples and illustrations, which I believe can be quickly utilized. Lessons will be posted on Fridays.

# 3 Making an Entrance
Writing should make the most of a lead’s entrance (the back of Sean Connery’s head in first James Bond film; Bugs Bunny leaning on Elmer Fudd’s shotgun). The opening line of dialogue from the lead should let us know much about the character (“Bond … James Bond;” “What’s up, Doc?”). Even if someone is just commenting on the weather, ideally it should reveal something (sees storm clouds coming when there aren’t any -- pessimist; expects sun when pouring -- optimist).

There are several ways to check and possibly strengthen a lead’s entrance. First, look at various lines and actions of your lead character in the first few pages after he or she is introduced. See if anything could simply be deleted, with the most dramatic moved up (similar to or, in some cases, the same as omitting needless opening scenes). Second, see if a mundane line of dialogue can be sharpened to bring more characterization to it. A hero who walks into a bar and says, “I’ll have a beer” isn’t as dynamic as one who walks in and says, "Cold in a bottle." The latter shows he’s familiar with the bar scene and probably has a richer inner life. He’s likely the type to talk in a more colorful manner, not spelling everything out overtly (meaning less risk of overwritten dialogue, which the reader appreciates). He also seems tougher, as his request doesn’t open itself up as much to the inevitable question from the bartender, “Which beer?” The hero probably doesn’t care. If he walks in, grabs a bottle from a man being served, hands the bartender 10 bucks and says to both, “I’m in a hurry,” now you’ve really grabbed our attention. There’s an element of mystery to the man, we want to know more about his circumstances.

Finally, juxtaposing a dynamic scene with a mundane one can create an entirely new context. If we’ve just seen a masked man in a black body suit pull off an elaborate jewel robbery, à la James Bond, walk into a bar in jeans and t-shirt, casually asking for a beer, as police outside comb the crime scene, his opening line possesses an irony and humor that give it an entirely new meaning.

Just showing something about your lead in his or her introduction isn’t enough. Creating an element of mystery is critical in introducing major characters. Any opening line or action should make us eager to learn more about your leads and their situations. Too often, this is a critical opportunity beginning writers, and sometimes pros, overlook.

For tip #1, click here.
For tip #2, click here.

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Barney Lichtenstein, former story analyst for Amblin Entertainment, New Line Cinema, and Largo Entertainment, teaches story analysis online for the Writers’ Program at UCLA Extension, and periodically assists with the training of new story analysts for the Sundance Institute and major production companies. He has served as a story editor for a multi-award-winning installment of the PBS series P.O.V., and for Voices, which won the Peabody Award, and is recipient of the UCLA Extension Outstanding Instructor Award in Screenwriting, 2006. Mr. Lichtenstein will be conducting a one day screenwriting seminar in September at UCLA Extension, comparing narrative structures of three 2008 Academy Award-nominated screenplays. Please click here for more information.

Meet the Reader: What Makes a Good Screenwriter?

I was talking with a writer friend lately about what qualities a person needed to have in order to be a good screenwriter and this is what we came up with:

1. You have to love movies: You’d think that would be a given, but it never fails to amaze me how many people that aspire to write screenplays are quite comfortable saying that they never go to the movies or that they only like old movies or that they won’t watch anything made before 1950 or 1960 or 1970 or that they hate studio movies and will only watch foreign films or that they hate reading subtitles and that they only want to see the latest mainstream special-effects extravaganzas. Likewise, I’m always stunned when I meet budding screenwriters that don’t know the history of the movies or have never seen the great classics of yesteryear and of today. Quite simply, I don’t see how -- if you’re not in love with cinema and its amazingly plastic ability to tell every type of story in every type of genre in every type of way and aren’t tickled pink by the notion that the same medium that can give you Citizen Kane, The Rules of the Game, and The Red Shoes can also give you Animal House, Pirates of the Caribbean, and I Spit on Your Grave; if you don’t understand the history of the medium and the industry and the craft; if you don’t know and appreciate its masterworks -- you can ever write for it effectively. It would be like saying that you want to be a painter, but you don’t understand color, you hate Picasso, and you don’t like getting your hands dirty.

2. You need to have a nose for a good (movie) story: As mentioned above, the cool thing about cinema is that it can be used to tackle just about any type of subject matter, but to work as a movie, a tale must be interesting enough to hold an audience’s attention for two or three hours, contain a suitable amount of action (and by that I mean behavior and incident and visceral conflict, not just car chases -- although car chases are cool too) and be able to be told in ways that are kinetic and visual. People that can recognize tales that have these qualities (and maybe, just as importantly, also recognize those that don’t) have a good chance of succeeding as screenwriters. Those that don’t should probably stick to writing novels or plays or e-mails.

3. You have to know how to write: By that I mean you have to know the basic rules and concepts of dramatic writing -- things such as acts and conflict and inciting incidents and plot twists and reversals and climaxes and resolutions. You need to understand the purpose of each of these things, why they have been codified in the way they have, and know how you can bend or twist or even break these codes without compromising the dramatic integrity of your piece. In other words, all you rebels and iconoclasts and innovators out there -- you’ve gotta know the rules, especially if you want to break ‘em.

4. You have to understand that you are writing for a mass audience: Movies are meant to be shown to large numbers of people all at the same time in a collective viewing experience -- even the most obscure art film is meant to be screened for an auditorium full of people. This means that when you write, you have to do so in such a way that your material is understandable to the people that you want to come to see your film. This does not mean you have to talk down to your audience or dumb down the material or anything like that -- you simply have to remember that when you are writing a movie, you are not writing just for yourself or for your immediate circle, but for large numbers of people that are eager to experience your ideas. It’s up to you to make sure that those ideas are clearly communicated and, if the film fails to connect, to never take refuge in “they just didn’t get it.” As a screenwriter, it’s your job to make sure they get it.

5. You have to be willing to rewrite, rewrite, rewrite: It is always said that “writing is rewriting” and this really is true. In most cases (Mozart may have been the exception), the first draft of anything is really only good for getting your ideas down on paper and because of this most first drafts are sloppy and unfocused and unwieldy. It’s simply the nature of the beast. If you want your material to work, you need to shape it and edit it and refine it until it is razor sharp and communicating everything you want in exactly the way you want exactly when you want it to. Despite this, there are many, many aspiring writers out there that are unwilling to make any sort of serious revision to their work and, as a result, there are an awful lot of scripts floating around that contain some excellent ideas that are buried under tons of excess and dross. If you want to be a serious writer, you need to be ruthless with your work -- to hone the rough edges and throw out things that aren’t working, no matter how much you love them. You need to seek out constructive criticism, listen seriously to it, and then figure out what to do about it. You need to be willing to do whatever it takes to make your material the best that it can be. If you’re not, then why even bother in the first place?

And finally …

6. You have to love movies: In the end, it really all comes back to that, now, doesn’t it?

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Ray Morton is a writer and script consultant. His books Close Encounters of the Third Kind: The Making of Steven Spielberg's Classic Film and King Kong: The History of a Movie Icon from Fay Wray to Peter Jackson are available in stores and online. He analyzes screenplays for production companies, producers, and individual writers. Morton is available for consultation and can be reached at ray@raymorton.com.

Will Chandler: Blogging From Southampton

This is the final installment of Will Chandler's blog from the Stony Brook Screenwriting Conference.

Sunday morning, the workshop faculty gathered for a candid, intimate Q & A panel. The room was jammed full of conference attendees who came armed with a wide range of questions.

When asked how important the ending scene is in a film, actor-director Peter Riegert offered “Endings are crucial. But whoever has the power in production will decide what it will be.” Using the example of Local Hero, a touchstone for many screenwriters, he said that the original ending had his character leaving Scotland and returning to his empty apartment in Houston, looking out on the lights of the city in melancholy contrast to the warmth of the quirky little village that had gotten into his heart. The studio told writer-director Bill Forsyth that he would have to shoot a new ending. They wanted Riegert’s oil exec character to fly back to Scotland and tie the story up with a bow. Forsyth would have none of it, but realized that he had to give them something. The studio had to believe that he was doing what they asked.

In the editing room, Forsyth found a stock shot of the village phone booth. He inserted it with the sound effect of the phone ringing. The juxtaposition suggested that Riegert was making the call but Riegert believes that if you were to ask Forsyth about it, he would say that the call had nothing to do with the oil exec or the happy ending that the studio wanted.

“How do I approach rewriting?” Ken Friedman (Heart Like a Wheel) thought about it a moment, “You’re always tinkering. I may do dozens of rewrites, but I don’t rewrite everything each time. I might go through once to make sure the main character is consistent, and maybe one time for the other major characters. Then I might do a dialogue rewrite or look for ways to create imagery in the scene. For each rewrite target something you’re trying to achieve.”

Malia Scotch Marmo (Once Around), who has done dozens of studio rewrites, said that there’s a difference between what executives ask for and what they want. “If you give them what they ask for, they will be disappointed. They don’t want you to be a ‘note taker,’ they want to feel like a writer rewrote it.” She suggested that writers need to think about why the note is being given and come up with an original solution that addresses the concern.

When the panel was asked if there were other skills that screenwriters should study to improve their craft, Andy Bienen (Boys Don’t Cry) immediately suggested acting classes, particularly scene study as a way of getting inside your characters.

Not sure if your scene is working, but not ready to have friends or colleagues look at it? Stephen Molton (The Kennedys, the Castros and the Politics of Murder) said that he reads his scenes into a recorder and then plays them back. Hearing your words read out loud “helps you work out the story but not dissipate the energy, You’re not risking disapproval by an audience or by someone who doesn’t understand where you’re headed with it.”

The room was filled with questions from every angle of screenwriting and students who were energized by the workshops, elective classes and evening events. No one wanted to go home.

The night before, actor-director Alec Baldwin and screenwriter-playwright Jon Robin Baitz shared clips from a few of their favorite movies. The easygoing banter between the two friends was an entertaining mix of what makes a good scene, examples of great dialogue and comparisons between screenwriting and playwriting.

Including clips from All About Eve, Chinatown, Being There, and Network, they each pointed out their favorite moments when a strong character conveys the perfect line. Baldwin advised screenwriters to study directing and become hyphenates in order to protect their work. The evening ended with a lively Q & A with the crowd.

When we headed out on Sunday, you could see that everyone was sad to leave, but eager to get home -- and start writing!

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Will Chandler, an AMPAS Nicholl Fellowship screenwriter, is the director of the Young American Writers Project (YAWP) through the M.F.A. in Writing & Literature Program at Stony Brook Southampton University. YAWP sends artists into schools across Long Island to teach screenwriting, playwriting, fiction, poetry, and personal essay. Chandler is also a screenwriter, having worked for a variety of studios and production companies as well as selling scripts on spec. Chandler also works as a script doctor with private clients. More information: Writers911.com, Twitter.com/ScreenWrite.

Barney Lichtenstein: A Story Analyst's Top-10 List: #2

Having taught story analysis for film in the classroom and online through the Writers’ Program at UCLA Extension, I’ve trained a number of students who have gone on to cover screenplays for studios, production companies, and Sundance Institute. One of the tools used in the course is a top-10 list of professional screenwriting skills industry readers look for when evaluating material and writers. I call these methods “in-between details,” which are neither at the heart of premise, plot or characterization nor important issues of formatting and presentation -- they exist somewhere between the two. These in-between details often make a critical first impression, the following among the most significant, elaborated upon with examples and illustrations, which I believe can be quickly utilized. Lessons will be posted on Fridays.

#2 Setting the Tone
Look for predominant tone established quickly and kept consistent, balanced. “Seeds” should be planted if the tone is going to change significantly (i.e. a serious prologue at beginning of Life is Beautiful suggests darker events to occur in a film which begins as a lighter comedy; mother’s concerns about crib death at the outset of Terms of Endearment create the same effect). Too often, scripts either start as humorless and heavy-handed, or too light and frivolous. Make sure the author is clearly creating a specific, effective tone.

Readers may wait for a central conflict, but from the opening sentence they are responding to tone. We may have no idea where a script is headed at the outset, but we instantly make judgments about something as being funny, dramatic or frightening. Regardless of genre, tone is established with your opening shot, and it’s amazing how often writers overlook this or take it for granted, failing to exploit fully what should be one of the most important aspects of a screenplay. As Steven Spielberg has noted, “Whatever mood you establish in the first 10 minutes of any movie, for me, that’s the most critical time in a film -- the first 10 minutes and the last 10 minutes.” Whether writing a Hollywood horror flick or European character drama, the best filmmakers know how to capitalize on those initial images and lines of dialogue.

When it comes to fantasy genres, injecting the right amount of realism is critical in opening scenes, alerting the reader as to parameters of the universe explored. We readily suspend disbelief and accept the impossible throughout The Wizard of Oz, The Dark Knight, The Matrix, Spider-Man, Iron Man, E.T., and the Harry Potter franchise, not because we have simply been informed the genre is fantasy, comic book, or science-fiction, but because we comprehend that supernatural rules and occurrences possess a certain logic, while moments of human drama and even political statements place the fantastic elements in more meaningful context.

In terms of more realistic genres, balancing drama and humor can be equally critical in the opening pages of a screenplay to achieve the right tone. When Harry Met Sally interweaves genuinely touching real life stories from older couples as to how they met, keeping the hilarious banter between the jaded and non-committal leads from becoming overly glib, due to these reminders that fulfilling lifetime commitments do exist. On the other end of the spectrum, a dark prison drama such as Shawshank Redemption offers relief from its intentionally oppressive atmosphere through Morgan Freeman’s subtle wit and some (albeit sick) humor in the form of inmates taunting the “new fish” their first night. Had early moments of comic relief in Shawskank been non-existent, or worse, given over to broad slapstick (as easily could have happened in the hands of a less skillful writer), what followed could have been irrevocably damaged. It is not simply a matter of injecting details of drama or humor at the outset, but making sure their interplay adjusts nuances of tone to full advantage.

For tip #1 click here.

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Barney Lichtenstein, former story analyst for Amblin Entertainment, New Line Cinema, and Largo Entertainment, teaches story analysis online for the Writers’ Program at UCLA Extension, and periodically assists with the training of new story analysts for the Sundance Institute and major production companies. He has served as a story editor for a multi-award-winning installment of the PBS series P.O.V., and for Voices, which won the Peabody Award, and is recipient of the UCLA Extension Outstanding Instructor Award in Screenwriting, 2006. Mr. Lichtenstein will be conducting a one day screenwriting seminar in September at UCLA Extension, comparing narrative structures of three 2008 Academy Award-nominated screenplays. Please click here for more information.

Discussing July/August With Andrew Shearer, Part 2

When I first read Wesley Rowe’s column “Hitting the Boards” in the July/August edition of Script magazine, it pissed me off. I was thinking, do burgeoning screenwriters really need advice on how to “up their quota” and figure out the best way to produce unoriginal work by having their own “twist on a classic” in their back pocket? Just last month, the subject of my blog was on the common concern voiced in Script about the lack of support for the unique voice in Hollywood. Shouldn’t we be encouraging screenwriters that if you’re focused on the money, you’re probably not going to make it in the first place?

Then I remembered, I’m fucking broke! My screenwriting partner and I have two projects in development that haven’t been set up yet and thus we haven’t been paid yet. We just finished a spec our manger and agent plan on packaging with actors, and we’re writing another spec for a very reputable company who has a good track record for getting movies made. Three of the projects are original, and one is a loose adaptation of a very unique book, which ultimately places it in the mini-studio market. We’re very close, but we’ve been “very close” for years now. And very broke for years now. You don’t get all this writing done by having full time jobs, right?

This brings me back to Wesley Rowe. What if he’s right? What if one of our “original” projects goes through, but the other three don’t happen? If we follow Wesley’s advice, perhaps we get really lucky, and we secure a financial future that allows more creative freedom to pursue our original work for as long as we want. Let the cynics say what they will, but I know for my writing partner and I, we’re not in it for the money, and a big paycheck will go a long way for us. Give me good food, daycare for my kid, good beer, and … HD? Not necessarily in that order.

And then there’s the re-writing gigs Wesley suggests. My partner and I had the chance to pitch for two re-write gigs thus far, neither of which we got, neither of which we were right for really. Both scripts were, shall I say politely, in really bad shape. Christopher McQuarrie of Usual Suspects fame once called re-writing a “soulless act” but also noted one can make up to a hundred G’s for a week’s worth of work. I thought to myself, I could live off that an entire year and write original work for 51 weeks -- or 40 and vacation 11. Anyway, I re-read Wesley’s column a few times, and it reminded me I’m constantly torn between remaining true to why I started writing screenplays in the first place and facing the reality that original work may not financially support an entire career. What do you think? Is Wesley’s advice right on or not?

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A redneck from Small Town, North Carolina (population 8,000, high school drop-out rate 40%), one day decided to tackle the film industry. Andrew’s film-school short, Son Up, based off his experience teaching at a juvenile hall, ended up winning seven festival awards and made the regionals for the Student Academy Awards. Andrew’s feature script version of Son Up, co-written with Nick Sherman, went on to win first prize at Cinequest. Then one day, the screenwriting gods shined their rarely shown light down from the Heavens and awarded the Nicholl Screenwriting Fellowship to Andrew and Nick for their feature script, Holy Irresistible. The duo is now repped by Endeavor and Brillstein Entertainment. They have two projects in development and are lucky enough to be co-writing a spec with another writer they’ve admired for years.

Will Chandler: Blogging from Southampton

“Film is emotional manipulation, not theory. What is the emotional wringer that you want to put your audience through?” I hadn’t even finished my first cup of coffee and screenwriter-instructor Christina Lazaridi already had the gloves off. With only three days of intensive workshops, there’s no time to lose. Connecting with her students, she draws out themes and conflicts from their work. “What is the sense of your main character’s day and what is he moving toward? You want to make the world alive.”

I have the easy job: eavesdrop as Lazaridi asks her students the hard questions and makes them think more clearly about their work. A screenwriter of original work, adaptations and documentaries, including the Academy Award-nominated One Day Crossing, Lazaridi is fluent in every type of film project and pushes her students to go deeper. She reminds them to “... pick the top thing that you want the audience to connect with. If your character is pulled in too many directions, the story will feel muddy.”

Throughout the morning, she reminded students how important it is to convey emotion in their work. “If you put emotional brackets around it, we will watch but not feel. What is the emotion that you want the audience to come out of this with? How do you want us to feel?” In the end, it’s emotion that connects us all to a script’s characters. A wise reminder for all writers.

Last night, filmmaker Bette Gordon interviewed screenwriter-director Peter Hedges (Pieces of April, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape). Hedges shared how he came up with the idea for Gilbert Grape. He had just started teaching writing at Northwestern University. On the first day, a student challenged “What, if anything, have you ever written?” Hedges responded “I will write a play tonight, we’ll start rehearsals on Friday and perform it on Sunday.” The student was impressed. Now all Hedges had to do was ... well, everything.

Sure enough, the short play was completed. Students loved it. Gilbert Grape’s story was eventually developed into a novel, which was optioned by Lasse Hallstrom. When Johnny Depp signed on, they had a green light and a start date. Now, the only thing Hedges needed to do was something he’d never done before: write a screenplay. He shared many of the ups and downs of that process with the audience.

Hedges said that he loves complex characters in the small moments of life that may not look dramatic on the outside, but from the character’s perspective, can be life changing. He is also fascinated by “how people like us can do the unthinkable.”

Contrasting screenwriting with playwriting, he cited the example of a character who expressed his anger with God in a seven page speech on stage; but in the screenplay, he just grabbed a crucifix off the wall and threw it into the fireplace. “Can you find that gesture or movement that conveys the emotional state?”

Hedges also discussed the challenges of writing and directing Pieces of April, which lost its funding three times and was eventually shot for $300,000 in 16 days. The story was inspired by a random meeting with an actress on a subway and his own mother’s death from cancer. And while he pointed to specific examples lifted from his life, he also said “writing is what I don’t write, what I don’t say.” Bring your characters to life, then let them breathe and trust your audience to understand them.

Tonight, actor/director Alec Baldwin and screenwriter/playwright Jon Robin Baitz discuss their all time favorite movie scenes.

Read Will Chandler's first Southampton blog here.