The silver lining of a bad movie

Krull
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.

A few points about plot points

delorean

Time for a quick refresher course, chums.

Today’s topic: plot points. What they are and what they represent.

I’ve always seen plot points as pivotal moments in the story; events that change the situation for your protagonist, usually in a negative manner, and ask/reiterate the central question (Will your hero achieve their goal?).

Having solid plot points also helps establish your story’s structure. Without it, all you’ve got is a big convoluted mess, and who wants to read that?

Although this uses a 110-page script as an example, plot points don’t have to happen exactly at those pages. A few more or less is totally acceptable. I’ve also opted to use fairly recognizable examples to emphasize each plot point.

Pencils ready? Let’s begin.

Page 3 – statement of theme. What’s the overall message of your story? The theme should also be incorporated in some fashion into each scene throughout the course of the story. (“No McFly in the history of Hill Valley has ever amounted to anything!” “Yeah, well, history’s gonna change.”)

Page 10 – inciting incident. The event that shakes up you protagonist’s world, and asks the central question of the story. (Will Indy get the Ark before the Nazis?)

Page 17 – a twist to further complicate things for the protagonist. (“Alderaan? I can’t go with you to Alderaan!”)

End of Act One (page 25-30) – Your protagonist leaves behind their old world and enters a new one to achieve their goal. Also repeats the central question. (Marty arrives in 1955)

Page 45 – another twist to complicate things for the protagonist (Indy saves Marion, destroys her bar. “I’m your goddamned partner!”)

Midpoint/Point of No Return (page 55-60) – your protagonist becomes fully committed to achieving their goal (Brody decides to go after the shark after his son barely survives the latest attack)

Page 75 – yet another twist to really complicate things for your protagonist (Vader kills Ben as Luke & Co escape)

End of Act Two (page 90) – All is lost. Your protagonist is totally screwed with no apparent way out. Makes it seem like the answer to your central question is “no”. (The Nazis get the Ark).

Climax (page 95-100) – final showdown between your protagonist and antagonist. (Rebels attack the Death Star. Marty must hit the wire when the lightning hits. Nazis open the Ark. The shark attacks the Orca, eats Quint.)

Resolution (page 100-105) – Aftermath of the climax. Central question gets answered. (Rebels victorious. Marty returns to 1985. Brody & Hooper survive. Indy delivers the Ark.)

Denouement (page 105-110) – How your protagonist’s world is now different from what it used to be (but not necessarily better). (Marty’s family is successful. The Ark gets crated and goes into a warehouse. Luke & Han hailed as heroes. Brody doesn’t hate the water anymore.)

So there you have it. Do the plot points of your story match up with these? Just something to think about. And feel free to watch the movies represented here (or one of your own personal favorites, or one similar to yours) to see all those plot points in action.

It just might be some of the most fun homework you’ll ever have.

Go for the hard turn

bullitt gif

I just finished reading a friend’s comedy script. It was okay. It needs work, but the one thing I couldn’t shake was how the story played out pretty close to how I expected it to. There weren’t any real surprises.

However, one of the things that really stood out about this story was that deep within it was the idea for the same kind of story, but from a totally different angle. Not only would this open up new and original ideas, but it also made me think that this new story would be one I don’t think I’d ever seen/heard of before.

How many times have you read a script and known what was coming? Don’t you love that feeling when you read something and get what you were totally not expecting? A story that keeps you eagerly wondering “what comes next?” is one to be thoroughly enjoyed. The more surprised we are, the better.

Cliches. Tropes. Clams. Old reliables. Whatever you want to call them, writers with less experience use them because they’ve worked before. It takes a lot of effort to NOT use them.

The challenge is to come up with a new way to present these old ideas. “Familiar yet different,” as the saying goes.

It can be a little intimidating to take those first steps into unfamiliar territory, but you want the journey the reader takes through the story to be memorable, right? So why not take that chance and head in a new direction?

Go through your latest draft. Are there elements to it that feel tired or overused? You’ll know them when you see them. Is there a different way to do or say the same thing?

You can even go so far as to imagine “What’s the least likely thing that could happen/be said here, but still takes the story in the right direction?”

Try it. You might be surprised. And if you’re surprised, chances are the reader will be too.

A refresher course we can all use

Okay, class. Who needs more time to work on their script?
Okay, class. Who needs more time to work on their script?

I’ve had a lot of goings-on with loglines over the past couple of days, which prompted me to re-post this gem from a little over 2 years ago.

Enjoy.

“Scenario:  You’re at a social function, engaged in idle chit-chat. The topic of you being a screenwriter comes up.

“What’s your story about?” they will undoubtedly ask.

The chance you’ve been waiting for!  What do you say?

You want to pique their curiosity, and not bore them.

In the simplest of terms:  provide a quick summary of the main characters(s) and what happens in the main storyline.

Avoid too much information, non-essential characters, intricate subplots, how it’s a metaphor for this totally different other thing, or generic phrases like “and learns about themselves” or “stumbles into a world she wasn’t prepared for” or the ever-dreaded “wackiness ensues.”

What are the components of an effective logline? Just the following:

1. A protagonist with a flaw.

2. An antagonist with a goal.

3. The situation that pits them against each other

4. What’s at stake/what happens if the protagonist fails?

That’s pretty much it. Keep it simple. Nothing too specific or generic.

Make sure you emphasize the genre. If it’s a comedy, play up the comedic angle. A thriller, go for the suspense. That sort of thing.

And most importantly, make it sound interesting. This is your best chance to grab their attention, so make the most of it (and make sure the script is just as good).”

-3rd half-marathon of the year this weekend. Training’s been more sporadic than I would have liked, so hoping to break 1:55, but will settle for under 2 hours.

Let’s get those brains stimulated, people!

You mean movies can be smart AND good?
You mean movies can be smart AND good?

One of my favorite things to do as a parent is go to the movies with my daughter. It’s a nice feeling knowing I’ve instilled in her the appreciation of the whole moviegoing experience. It also helps that there’s a fantastic two-screen (one of a handful of similar small neighborhood theatres in San Francisco) a few blocks from us.

And as she’s getting older, our choices are growing in number. Strictly kid-based animation has given way to PG-13 fare, so we try to see what we can when possible.

Earlier this summer, we caught JURASSIC WORLD and INSIDE OUT within a week’s time. She really enjoyed the dinosaur flick. I thought it was fun, but felt it relied more on the nostalgia factor rather than smart storytelling (“Remember when we helped Grandpa fix that old car?”). I found the latest offering from Pixar to be pure genius, while she found it to be simply “okay”. I asked why she liked the first movie more than the second.

“I think I like movies where you don’t have to think too much.”

Gasp.

I won’t go so far as to say it was a dagger in my heart, but you can probably understand my being taken somewhat aback.

I could easily chalk it up to that she’s still relatively young and hasn’t latched on to my love of the movies to the extent that I have. Like I said, the list of what she’s seen is somewhat limited. I’ve done what I can, and hopefully can continue to contribute to it.

But as a writer, what’s my biggest takeaway from this?

Obviously I want to write scripts for films that will be embraced by the general public, which means they’d have to be simple enough that anybody could follow along, but also written in a way that the reader/audience doesn’t feel insulted or talked down to.

All this talk about needing to appeal to the lowest common denominator has always bothered me. It makes it sound like there’s no point in trying to write something smart.

I beg to differ.

Getting the reader/audience to really think about the story gets them more involved. You hooked with them with the beginning, kept them intrigued throughout the middle, and now they’re compelled to find out how it all ends. Isn’t that what it all comes down to?

I love it when I read a script where it’s obvious a writer knows what they’re doing when it comes to telling a story. Setups and payoffs. Multi-dimensional characters. Plotlines where I know what the endpoint is, have no idea how we’re going to get there, and am getting a real kick out of taking the journey.

This is the kind of writing we should all strive to create.

It’s easy to write something that doesn’t try to challenge the reader/audience, and the reaction will probably be similar. “Boring.” “Unoriginal.” “Meh.”

Push yourself to write something that offers up something new, or at least a new twist on an old standard. Give us something we haven’t seen before, or totally weren’t expecting. Not just one part. THE WHOLE THING. There’s something exhilarating about venturing into new territory. Take us there.

We’re writers. It’s what we do.