Showing posts with label Screenwriting Helps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Screenwriting Helps. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

SCENE DESIGN

SCENES are unified around DESIRE, ACTION, CONFLICT and CHANGE



Each scene has to be a minor, moderate, or major turning point

The effects of TURNING POINTS are fourfold:
SURPRISE
INCREASED CURIOUSITY
INSIGHT
NEW DIRECTION

You need to lead the audience into EXPECTATION, make them think they understand, then CRACK and open a SURPRISE

SURPRISE and CURIOUSITY always bring the audience into the story

Give the audience the pleasure of discovering life, pains and joys at a level - and in directions - they have never imagined

SETUPS/PAYOFFS
-Setup is layering-in knowledge
-Payoff is closing the gap and delivering the knowledge to the audience

THREE POINTS YOU NEED FOR THE AUDIENCE TO FOLLOW YOUR STORY


1) Empathy with the characters. We don't need to like them, but understand them and feel for them.
2) We must know what the character wants and let the character have it.
3) We must understand the values at stake in the character's life.

The more often the audience experiences something, the less effect it has.

EMOTION peaks and valleys rapidly in a great story. It's the catalyst for the PACE of the story.

THE LAW OF CONFLICT - Nothing moves forward in a story except through conflict.



As long as conflict engages our thoughts and emotions, we travel through the hours unaware of the VOYAGE that is leading us.

KNOW WHAT'S AT STAKE IN THE MOVIE - WHAT IS THE CONFLICT?

1) SURVIVAL - Many good films are about survival - human instinct - do-or-die situations. If you're into Hollywood scripts and stories, think about the top-grossing films of all time. 99 out 100 are stories with characters in DO-or-DIE situations.
2) SAFETY AND SECURITY - Need to find a secure/protected setting once again.
3) LOVE AND BELONGING - Someone longing for connection - wanting to feel LOVED.
4) ESTEEM AND SELF-RESPECT - Wanting to be looked up to, and be recognized for their skills.
5) THE NEED TO KNOW AND UNDERSTAND - Curiousity, and understanding how things happen and what they have to go through to get answers.
6) THE AESTHETIC - Trying to be connected with something greater than themselves - a higher power.
7) SELF-ACTUALIZATION - The characters need to express themselves - to communicate who they are. The audience roots for someone to succeed. A lot of comedies have this plot.

RAISING THE STAKES WHILE THE CHARACTER GOES AFTER THE GOAL: PRESSURE AND ROADBLOCKS

Parts of A Scene

A scene is an expression of essential conflict that advances the story. By adhering slavishly to this principle at all times, you will never have a flat or dull scene, nor will you ever have a scene which is merely expository. To understand the power of this statement, we must start with the essence of character – the forces that drive the character. These are the essential forces that shape the character’s choices. In screenwriting, choices are the only means of displaying character. Each character has a number of driving forces, often conflicting with each other. Various writers and commentators classify these forces differently. For our purposes, we will use the terms super-objective, story objective, scene objective and point of
view.
Super-objective = a character’s deep-rooted
goal, not to be confused with the specific goal of the story. Rather,
it is something which runs deeper and often outlives the specific
goal of the story. For example, an ex-con may seek to kill the man
who set him up (the character’s story objective), but
beneath that is a more important goal, to restore or maintain his
self-respect. That deeper goal is the character’s super-objective.
It informs all the character’s actions, even if it sometimes
runs afoul of his or her story objective. Other examples
may be the woman who wants to steal a baby (her story objective)
but what is really underneath it is her desire to have a family (her
super-objective.) The plot may have her trying to steal a
baby all the way through the story, but in the end, as she is carted
off to jail for kidnapping, she discovers she is pregnant. Despite
the catastrophe of her life (and the irony), she is happy because
she is achieving her super-objective. Of course, the author
may choose to make her unhappy because, although she is pregnant,
she may consider that having a baby in prison does not meet her super-objective,
namely, to have a family. The super-objective need not be
known to the character or the audience, but it must be known to the
writer who, as we will see below, will use it in determining every
action of the character.
NOTE: The term “Super-objective” is sometimes
used differently by different writers and dramatists. Sometimes, it
is used for what we are calling the story-objective. Sometimes,
it is used in a broader sense, similar to the way we use theme. In
this article, it is always used to mean the character’s deeper
goal.
Story Objective = a character’s specific
goal during the screenplay. For example, to save the girl, to steal
the money, to avenge the death, to bring the killer to justice, to
return to one’s regular life, to escape the law, etc. Unlike
the super-objective, this goal is typically a result of events
which occur in the first act of the screenplay and it is typically
resolved by the end of the screenplay. Keep in mind that, like the
super-objective, the objective may not be obvious or known
to the character. For example, in The Color of Money, Paul
Newman’s character believes he is on a journey to train and
exploit new raw talent (Tom Cruise). However, the talent leaves him
at the end of act two. Thereafter, he decides to compete in the pool
tournament himself. It takes a deeper analysis to see what his real
story objective was and an even deeper analysis to see his
super-objective. Like the super-objective, the story
objective
must be known to the writer.
Scene Objective = a character’s goal
in the specific scene. It could be getting past a guard, convincing
a friend to participate in a robbery, convincingly lying to a spouse,
climbing a sheer cliff, or sitting alone in a room for ten minutes.
Powerful scenes have only one scene objective for each character.
Typically, the scene objective is known to the character,
but not always. It should always be known to the writer.
Point Of View = the way in which the character
sees the world. This seminal concept is dealt with at length in
another article which should be fully considered. (Sorry - other article is also from old website, not posted yet. It’ll go up again in the next few weeks.) In short, it
is a filter through which the character runs perception and an ordinarily
unspoken position from which a character performs all acts. Examples
of points of view are “everyone in the world is out
to rip everyone else off”. In that case, each word and action
of the character comes from her belief that everyone is trying to
rip her off. Even if she never says it, it always informs her actions.
She looks at fruit longer than the next person, she rejects a gift
because “it must be a rip-off”, she is unable to evaluate
a business proposal because she is certain is has a hidden trap which
she is not seeing. There are infinite points of view available. A
few examples include “only the smart survive”, “I
am ugly and people are repelled to look at me” and “The
world owes me.” Typically, there is one point of view per character
and characters are rarely aware of their own points of view.
Each and every character has his or her own super objective,
story objective, scene objective (in each scene),
and point of view. Every choice of every character must be
informed by each of these forces and is a result of the interaction
of these forces. The writer must continually keep in mind the specific
forces guiding the character and allow the forces not only to inform
how a character behaves in each circumstance but to inform what circumstance
the writer puts the character in. Put another way, the writer must craft
each and every circumstance to test the character’s resolve with
respect to each of these forces. Do not ever put the character in neutral
circumstances which do not require resort to these forces to determine
outcome, not for an eighth of a page, not for a brief establishing shot, not even
for a single word of dialogue. Adhering to this extremely high standard
is one of the marks of a truly professional writer.
Before writing begins, the writer should make a serious and thoughtful
attempt to determine the super objective, story objective,
and point of view of each major character. However, as in any
creative effort, writing is a journey of discovery and the writer may
find that objectives and points of view emerge through the process of
writing itself. When this happens, and it always does, the writer must
re-address the story from the beginning and revise it so that all of
a character’s choices are a result of the interaction of these
forces. Often, this means discarding a favorite scene or line of dialogue.
Have courage, bite the bullet, make the change. You will come up with
other beautiful lines of dialogue. The writer must write in service
to the story as a whole or his or her scripts will always be mediocre.
The purpose for understanding the essential forces for each major character
is to allow the writer to ask and answer these questions in each circumstance:
(1) What is the character feeling and thinking at this exact moment?
In other words, what is his or her emotional state?
(2) What will the character do or say in this moment?
The informed inquiry into these two questions is essential to determining
action. It is not a light inquiry and it is often not an easy inquiry.
Excellent writing is hard work. The writer should not simply accept
the first answer that comes to mind, but probe the answer by examining
in light of each of the essential forces, trying a different answer,
analyzing it, and trying yet a different answer. For each possible choice,
the writer should consider its opposite as another possible choice.
Often, the opposite turns out to be much more powerful.
As stated above, each moment should be crafted so that, given the forces
acting on the character, he or she is tested in that moment. Often,
it will take approaching a moment from many different standpoints, experimenting
with different possibilities, until that one single moment is best crafted
to exploit the forces which shape the character and best reveal that
character’s choices. Each moment must push the character further
than the last, ever stretching the fabric of the character, creating
greater and greater pressure with each choice the character makes, until
the character surely must burst apart. It is only in that moment when
the character is stretched to his or her limit that he or she can learn,
change, grow, adapt, or be destroyed.
Given this framework for understanding the essence of character, we
return to the initial premise – the seminal principal which guarantees
engaging, powerful scenes. A scene is an expression of essential conflict
that advances the story. Looking at in pieces, we find “ an expression
of essential conflict” and “that advances the story”.
“Essential conflict” is a conflict which tests the character
in light of the essential forces shaping his or her choices. The character
can be alone, for example climbing the shear face of a cliff, or more
typically with other characters, for example trying to talk her way
out of hostage hold-up. However, in each case, the moment must be an
essential test of the character in terms of the essential forces. When
Clarice first confronts Hannibal in the classic scene from Silence
of The Lambs
(bottom of page 9 through page bottom of page
16), the conflict springs from the forces which drive each character.
For Clarice, these forces are: Super-objective = desire to
demonstrate her real worth beyond that of humble background; story
objective
= desire to apprehend the “Buffalo Bill”
serial killer; scene objective = to get Hannibal to help her;
Point of view = “If I adhere to my principals, I will
always prevail.” In this six page scene, Hannibal astutely preys
on exactly these forces in toying with Clarice. His insight into these
forces gives him his power. It is worth reading and rereading this scene
and considering the forces at work to understand how character creates
perfect scenes. Just as Clarice has forces at work, so does Hannibal.
His forces are just as essential to his action as are hers to hers.
Notice that in all scenes within a story, each character’s essential
forces remain constant except for the scene objective, thus
forcing each scene into a focused context in which it is supported both
before and after. A scene can never be saved after the fact; it must
work in the moment or it fails. However, the enjoyment of the scene
grows when subsequent scenes illuminate and clarify the essential forces
which created that scene. In this way, the entire story is wound tightly
around the interaction of the main characters’ essential forces
and these forces continuously drive the action to its ultimate climax
and resolution.
In a scene involving multiple characters, the writer must craft each
scene with reference to each of the character’s essential forces.
Internal conflict arises when circumstances test a character’s
essential forces, some of which themselves may conflict. External conflict
arises when one character’s essential forces conflict with another’s.
On the most superficial level, this occurs when characters have different
scene objectives. However, the writer should not be satisfied
there. Well crafted characters will collide on multiple levels –
conflicting super-objectives, story objectives and
points of view can all also come into play. When each choice
of each character is controlled by conflicting essential forces, sparks
ignite. Because these forces are essential, the characters care about
the conflict. Because the characters truly care, the reader also cares.
The characters seem to have authenticity and we find the scenes engaging.
Finally, in order for the scene to be effective, the essential conflict
must advance the story. Advancing the story means driving it towards
its ultimate conclusion on multiple levels. Although a scene must always
advance the plot towards the story’s ultimate conclusion, that
alone is not enough. It must also advance (1) each character by increasing
the tension between the character’s circumstances and his or her
essential forces and (2) the relationships between characters by deepening
the essential conflicts between them. It must also make these advancements
through essential conflict, in other words, by exploiting the essential
forces at work on each character. In this way, each scene presses each
character further and further, strains the relationships between the
characters even as it deepens their bonds, and ultimately brings us
to the point of maximum tension where meaningful growth or destruction
is possible.
A common pitfall of emerging writers is to rely on non-essential forces
to drive particular scenes forward without reference to the essential
forces. Doing so creates weak, wandering stories since readers and audiences
do not care much about non-essential forces acting on these characters.
While such a story moves logically forward, it does not engage at the
level of a competitive, professional screenplay. The audience cares
about the same things the characters care about, but the audience must
be shown what the character really cares about. Define the essential
forces acting on your character and stick with it through the entire
story.
Following these principals, doing the work that needs to be done, creating
choices by asking the questions that need to be asked, you can expect
perfect scenes which add up to a highly focused, engaging, professional
screenplay.

How to write a scene

1. Ask: What needs to happen in this scene?

Many screenwriting books will tell you to focus on what the characters want. This is wrong. The characters are not responsible for the story. You are. If characters were allowed to control their scenes, most characters would chose to avoid conflict, and movies would be crushingly boring.
The question is not, “What could happen?” or “What should happen?” It is only, “What needs to happen?” If you wrote an outline, this is the time to look at it.1 If you didn’t, just come up one or two sentences that explain what absolutely must happen in the scene.

2. Ask: What’s the worst that would happen if this scene were omitted?

Imagine the projectionist screwed up and accidentally lopped off this scene. Would the movie still make sense? If the answer is “yes,” then you don’t really need the scene, and shouldn’t bother writing it.
But it’s so dramatic! you say. But it’s so funny!
Tough. Put that drama or that comedy into scenes that are crucial to the movie.2 One thing you learn after a few produced movies is that anything that can be cut will be cut, so put your best material into moments that will absolutely be there when it’s done.

3. Ask: Who needs to be in the scene?

Scripts are often clogged with characters who have no business being there. But because words are small, it’s easy to overlook that “Haversmith” hasn’t said or done anything for five pages. And sadly, sometimes that’s not realized until after filming.3

4. Ask: Where could the scene take place?

The most obvious setting for a scene is generally the least interesting, so don’t be too quick to set your scene in the police bullpen, a living room, or a parking garage. Always consider what the characters could be doing, even if it’s not directly related to the focus of the scene. A father-and-son bonding moment at a slaughter house will play differently than the same dialogue at a lawn bowling tournament.

5. Ask: What’s the most surprising thing that could happen in the scene?

Give yourself permission to step away from your outline and consider some wild possibilities. What if a car smashed through the wall? What if your hero choked and died? What if a young boy vomited up a finger?
Most of your scenes won’t have one of these out-of-nowhere aspects. But your movie needs to have a few moments that are completely unexpected, so always ask yourself, could this be one of them?

6. Ask: Is this a long scene or a short scene?

There’s nothing so dispiriting as writing a great three-page mega-scene and realizing that you could have accomplished just as much in two-eighths of a page.4 So ask yourself up front: How much screen time am I willing to give to this scene?

7. Brainstorm three different ways it could begin.

The classic advice is to come into a scene as late as you possibly can. Of course, to do that, you really need to know how the previous scene ended. There’s often a natural momentum that suggests what first image or line of dialogue would be perfect to open the scene. But don’t stop at the first option. Find a couple, then…

8. Play it on the screen in your head.

At least 50% of screenwriting is simply sitting there with your eyes closed, watching the unwritten scene loop in your head. The first couple of times through, it’s really rough: a blocking rehearsal. But eventually, you start to hear the characters talk to each other, and the vague motions become distinct actions. Don’t worry if you can’t always get the scene to play through to the end — you’re more likely to find the exit in the writing than in the imagining.
Don’t rush this step. Let the scene percolate. Mumble the dialogue. Immerse yourself as fully into the moment as you can.

9. Write a scribble version.

A “scribble version” is essentially a cheat sheet so you’ll remember the great scene you just saw in your head. Don’t write sentences; don’t write full dialogue. It shouldn’t take more than five minutes. Just get the bare minimum down so that you won’t forget the scene in the next hour as you’re writing it.
I generally hand-write a scribble version in tiny print — sometimes literally on the back of an envelope — but you can also type. This is what a scribble version consists of for me:
  • DUNCAN waiting edge of seat
  • ITO
  • I was one of the doctors who worked on your wife
  • accident
  • injuries severe, trauma team, sorry, couldn’t save her
  • (sits, reflex)
  • nature of injuries, concern fetus wouldn’t survive in utero. paramedic able deliver caesarian boy healthy
  • (nodding not hearing)
  • nurse can take you to see him, know a lot to handle
  • what
  • a lot to handle
  • take me to see him?
  • yes
  • see who?
  • your son. paramedic was able to
  • (grabs clipboard)
  • I know this may seem
  • My wife wasn’t pregnant
  • Your wife didn’t tell you…
  • My wife has never been pregnant. been trying three years. fertility clinic last week
  • I examined the baby myself. nearly at term.
  • I don’t know whose baby, not hers.
It’s kind of a mess, and really wouldn’t make sense to anyone but me — and only shortly after I wrote it. But that doesn’t matter. The scribble version is only there so you don’t get lost or confused while writing the full version of the scene. Yes, it’s finally time to…

10. Write the full scene.

If you typed up the scribble version, don’t just try to fatten it out. Start clean. The scribble version is deliberately crappy, and rewritten crap is still crap.
The scribble version is your outline for the scene. Yes, allow yourself the chance to detour from your scribble version if a truly better idea comes along. But if you’ve really spent the time to play it through in your head (#8), it’s probably on the right track already.
Depending on the nature of the scene, getting the dialogue right may be most of the work. Regardless, focus on choosing the best words to describe the characters, the action and tone, so your readers will see the same scene in their heads.
  1. Repeat 200 times. ===
    1. I’m neither pro nor anti-outline. They can be a useful way of figuring out how the pieces might fit together. They’re nearly essential in television, where many minds need to coordinate. But sticking too closely to an outline is dangerous. It’s like following Google Maps when it tells you to take Wilshire.
    2. Do my own scripts hold up to this (admittedly harsh) standard? Yes, largely, but feel free to correct me where you disagree. Big Fish has quite a few meanders and detours, but that’s very much on-topic — it’s the reason the son is so frustrated.
    3. As an example: Kal Penn in Superman Returns. He’s basically an extra.
    4. Scenes are measured in eighths. You really do say two-eighths, not one-quarter.