Feedback is starting to trickle in for the latest draft of the comedy spec. So far, reviews are favorable. It’s still very rough around the edges, but confidence is running high heading into the next rewrite.
It’s very encouraging to have more than one person tell you “I actually laughed out loud. More than once!” That counts as a win in my book.
So in keeping with the comedy theme, here’s a question for you:
Someone asks for your recommendation for an underrated comedy. Preferably one they’ve never heard of.
I’d go with GOON. Quite a nice surprise. Bonus points if you know anything about or have an appreciation of hockey.
As part of my work on the low-budget comedy spec, I’ve made an effort to read other comedies to help get a better understanding of how it could be done and hopefully some guidance I could apply to mine.
It’s always been tough for me to read comedy because my sense of humor doesn’t always align with others. Many’s the time I’ve read a script that garners universal praise for being gut-bustingly hilarious, but doesn’t do anything for me.
There is, however, one detail I’ve noticed that keeps popping up:
Unrealistic situations.
Things that seem to happen only for the sake of a joke, and not much else. These often feel forced and inorganic to the plot. Almost as if the writer thought “Hey, wouldn’t it be crazy if ____?”
In theory, potentially a good idea, but in execution – not really.
Some might argue that since it’s comedy, things don’t have to be realistic as long as they’re funny.
I beg to differ. If I don’t think something could actually happen, I will most likely not find it funny.
**side note – this doesn’t necessarily apply to slapstick or absurdist fare, which are two entirely different discussions**
Sure, there are comedies where the entire premise isn’t all that realistic to begin with, but even the humor in those should stem from the situation, rather than being a crazy assortment of wacky gags.
Going for the easy laugh or cheap joke doesn’t take much skill and shows a lack of sincere effort. If a writer does it once, chances are they’ll do it a lot. It also doesn’t offer anything new. Who wants a joke they’ve probably seen or heard a thousand times before?
Looking at comedies that would be considered strong, there are a lot of instances where the joke is an integral part of the scene, rather than feeling like something tacked on.
You’ll hear that the best comedy is the kind that makes you think. I prefer comedy that shows the writer did a lot of the thinking.
And it all starts with this guySomething just a little different and of a somewhat personal nature today.
In the summer of 1982, I went to see Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.
With my dad.
At a night-time show (probably the 7:30 one).
As a thunderstorm raged outside (typical south Jersey summer weather conditions).
It was a great night.
All of these elements combined to make what was one of the most memorable times I’ve ever had at the movies. What made it that way? I can’t say specifically, but it just was.
It’s still something I will truly never forget. If I ever get to meet Nicholas Meyer, I’ll make a point of telling him that.
Maybe someday a dad and his son or daughter will go to see a movie I wrote, and that child will experience the same sensation I did: the creation of a memory they cherish for the rest of their life.
(Whether or not they tell me about it in their adult years is beside the point, but I wouldn’t object.)
What writer wouldn’t want to have their work be the basis for something like that?
And now I’m a dad who enjoys going to the movies with my child. Could history repeat itself and we see a movie, and we have a great time, and it’s something she’ll remember for the rest of her life?
So far, it hasn’t happened yet (as far as I know).
A definitive shining example (AND a prime candidate for a remake)
Since the screenwriter’s education is ongoing, there’s always something for you to work with or study to get a better grasp and understanding of what constitutes good writing, which can then be applied to your own.
Read scripts. Attend or take part in a table read. Watch movies.
While there are countless examples of exemplary writing and filmmaking to see it done properly and effectively, there are even more examples of crappy writing and lousy filmmaking to see it done poorly and ineffectively.
Nobody starts out with the intention of making a bad movie. What starts out as a great script can easily be messed up along the way to the point that there’s no salvaging it. It happens.
Is watching one waste of time? Not necessarily.
As enjoyable, informative and educational as the good stuff is, the bad stuff is actually just as good, possibly even more so. Because from these cinematic travesties you can learn what not to do with your own scripts. Lessons abound with all the glorious misfires regarding story, characters, and dialogue.
Regrettably, bad acting is a category all by itself and there’s nothing that can be done about it. Do what you can to ignore it (which can border on the impossible, depending on the quality of badness) and focus on the non-tangibles.
It’s especially helpful to work with something from the same genre as your script. See how they did it, then compare it to your own. Can you see why theirs didn’t work? Is it riddled with plotholes you could drive a truck through? Is the dialogue pure on-the-nose? Do the characters come across as unrealistic caricatures?
Look at it as a whole. Does it respect the reader/audience’s intelligence? Is the structure solid? Do you care about what happens to these characters over the course of the story?
Now bring your script into the equation – and be objective! How much of a similarity or difference is there between that story and yours? Did that other material open your eyes to some previously unforeseen flaws and potential problems within your script, so much that it made you realize “this needs work”?
Once you identify these problems, your writer’s mind goes to work, figuring out how to make sure your script doesn’t repeat the mistakes you just read or watched.
It may not be easy to endure having to watch a bad movie just for the educational experience, so just keep reminding yourself “It’s to help me become a better writer”.
Good luck!
Question time! What’s your favorite bad movie? Feel free to list it in the comments.
The next person who comes in will sit directly in front of me. Guaranteed.
I recently had the opportunity to revisit the outline for my pulpy adventure story after having not looked at it in several months, and wanted to see what was needed in order to get me a little closer to being able to start on pages.
Time was limited, so I was only able to get through the first half. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that a lot of it still held up, plus an added bonus of some small inspirations resulting in tweaks that strengthened a few of the subplots and tied a few them together in a better way.
And of course, some of these new developments were a total change from how I’d always imagined them. This happens a lot for me.
But what was really the most positive experience out of this was how easy it was to “see” the story play out. It was as if I was in a private theatre, watching my imagination come to life on the big screen, complete with surround-sound. It definitely reinforced the kind of story I’m trying to tell.
When you’re putting your story together, or writing it, or even just reading it, how easy is it for you to visualize it? Do you “see” it as if you’re watching it in movie form? Is it a smooth transition from coming up with the idea to putting it on the page so it reads how you originally imagined it?
And therein lies part of the challenge. It’s just not an easy task, or at least isn’t for a lot of writers. It takes time to find the right words.
You might know what you want to say, but can’t find the exact way to say it, so you tinker around with it, trying and trying until something takes hold. Or maybe after writing it down, actually seeing it on the page makes you realize “this might not have been the best way to do it,” so you jump back in to come up with something new.
Sometimes I even go so far as to narrate aloud while acting out what’s happening for that particular part of the story (or as much as I can while sitting at my desk), which really helps, despite how silly it might look to somebody else.
As writers, the gears of our imaginations are always turning. Always. You could be doing something totally ordinary or mundane, and then, like a bolt from the blue, come up with a solution so perfect and now-obvious that you can’t understand why you didn’t realize it before.
So you work and work, making your writing better to the point that anybody reading your story will eventually be able to “see” it the way you want them to.
