Professional Documents
Culture Documents
7 Super Kick Ass Secrets
7 Super Kick Ass Secrets
Q: How many development execs does it take to change a light bulb? A: One, but does it have to be a light bulb?
No matter how amazing and dynamic you think your screenplay is, some producer or studio exec or valet or bicycle messenger is going to want to change it. And destroy it. And tear it down. And build it back up again. (Probably in some form you won't recognize.) And thats really the way it should be.
Because screenplays are not literary works of art. (Read the script of any Michael Bay film and that'll become abundantly clear.) They are glorified blueprints. Wordy prototypes. Rough sketches of a story intended to get investors to take notice of your start-up and eventually transform those words you typed at your local Starbucks into something transmitted onto 22-foot screens from Beijing to Baja. And above-the-line talent (producers, directors, actors, etc.) invest in your "start-up" when: 1. They respond to your material emotionally. 2. They can "see" it as a movie. But here's the cool part. All it takes is one investor, one connected person in the film biz to "see" something in your little scrappy project to suddenly change your career, and your frickin' life overnight.
Kick-Ass Screenplay Secret No.1: Make the Hero of Your Story the Hero of Their Story
Oh, I know. You think your hero is your hero. I mean, you've given them the best character description in your script and you've spent months working on their finely-tuned backstory. And you've given him or her a great name like Mack Tanner or Samantha Colsingame or Brad Punchypants. But unless you write--and we see--the story through their eyes, then your hero is not your hero. And somebody else in your script is your hero. Or worse yet...nobody in your script is your hero. This isn't just a mistake that rookies make. I defy you to watch Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace and tell me WHO the main character is. (It sure as hell ain't Qui-Gon McGillacuddy.) And though everyone in the world tells me over and over again how Paddy Chayefsky is the greatest living writer in the world, every time I see Network I just yearn for some kind of emotional connection to a single human being in that movie. Somebody I can relate to. Somebody whose eyes I can see the events of the movie through. Somebody who is the frickin' HERO.
Steals the microfilm Kills the shark Gives up the girl so Victor Lazlow doesn't get sad And it is the antagonist's job to stand in the way of the hero. But if the hero just reacts to what's going on, and doesn't proactively charge toward a goal, then no amount of creepy bad-guy scenes will help. So whether youre just starting to sketch out your comedy scripts backstory or youre knee-deep in the seventh rewrite of your techno-thriller, make sure EVERY SINGLE SCENE is either about: Your hero trying to achieve something Or somebody standing in the way of your hero achieving that something Leave the nuanced, multi-protagonist scripts for when youve sold your first spec and youre sipping Mai-Tais in Redondo Beach.
Action Step No.1: Make sure your hero is the "toll booth" of your story everything, and I mean everything, goes through them.
We FADE IN on a Russian military installation. Two brutish soldiers guard a small shed. An explosion ripples behind them. What's happening? At that moment, James Bond comes in on a pair of skis shooting a .50 caliber gun and holding a dry martini.
Do we need to know what's in the shed? Do we need to know why Bond is there? Do we need to know anything except mean guys are guarding something important and
James Bond wants to get it? No! We'll figure it out. All you gotta do is let us.
Action Step No.2: Cut your first five pages. Then cut some more. If you dare(Wha-ha-ha!)
Kick-Ass Screenplay Secret No.3: Take the Climax of Your Scriptand Back it Up 20 Pages
So youve nailed down the amazing, no-holds barred, everything-goes, ultimate climactic showdown of your script. (You know the part where the villain says to the hero: You know, Jack, were really not so different you and I) And you just know in your heart your climax is so powerful it will: Shock and amaze every human on the face of the Earth. Cause men and women to throw themselves at you in uncontrollable desire. Force agents and producers to assault each other with handmade weapons just to get you on the phone. And yet, Id like you to take that awesome climax and move it back to the middle of Act II and then FORCE yourself to create an even greater climax. This ninja tactic does a few things: Helps fill the cavernous emptiness that is Act II. Keeps the audience really alert. (Geeztheres no way they can possibly go anywhere from there. Ohthey just did!) Gives you the chance to completely change direction in your script. (This is a good thing.) Forces you to top yourself, to come up with an even stronger, better ending. I know you dont think you can do this. You can. Trust me. All youre really doing is taking your Act II Climax and moving it to the middle of Act II. But most Act II Midpoints in the scripts I read are rather weak, and the march toward the final climax feels very paint-by-numbers. (Okay: so weve killed the mentor; now the girl gets kidnapped; Uh-oh, the best friend is the villains henchmen. Yawn.) But if you shift the best stuff you have to the middle of Act II--and then top yourself with a new climax--then everything about your story will feel faster, tighter and way more entertaining.
And the reader/viewer will have no idea where youre going. (Having that is screenplay gold.) Oh. You want examples. Well I think one of my favorites is Psycho. In the first half we think we are following Janet Leigh in some hard-boiled film noir. But Hitchcock does an amazing thing. He literally switches genres in the middle of the film, going from thriller to horror in a single, shower scene. (Ill bet a big part of the shock of that scene wasnt just the staccato jump-cuts, but the fact that the hero of the movie was killed mid-way through the film.) So look through your own script and see where you can come up with the best climax you can. Then move it back. And rinse and repeat.
Action Step No.3: Move your climax back. Then create another (better) climax. And focus all of Act II's energy toward the new climax.
But notice how with the Shawshank example, that the library subplot eventually gets him thrown into solitary. (And gives the main plot, of him trying to get out of Shawshank, a serious turbo boost.) And notice how the other couple in When Harry Met Sally acts as a sort of strange funhouse mirror version of Harry and Sally. This is good. This is awesome. Subplots are like steroids for your main plot. (Me strong!) Just make sure they dont leave your main plot with roid rage and man boobs. So here are my top-3 tips when it comes to subplots: Tip No.1: Have at Least One of Your Subplots Contradict the Theme of Your Story In An Officer and a Gentleman the central question is: can you become a civilized honorable, disciplined, and respected person or are you just a victim of your upbringing? For Richard Gere and Debra Winger the answer is a positive one. (You can change; you can become a gentleman.) For the other best-friend couple, where things end really badly, the answer is no. (No matter what you do, youre still low-class trash.) Having these contradictory outcomes only heightens the power of the main plot. Tip No.2: Have the Subplot Characters Articulate Your Theme If you have to have a character say what the theme or central question is, and you should tread carefully if you do, make sure its a subplot character. Do not, for the love of God, have your main character do it. Please, oh please. Best of all, have your villain express what the theme is. (Oh, you see, Mr. Bond. The trouble with you is you never get to know women well enough to recognize true love when you see it.) Tip No.3: If a Subplot Doesnt Reinforce or Contradict Your Central QuestionCut It This one comes straight from Jeffery Katzenberg, when he worked at Disney developing animated movies.
He would mandate that every subplot in the film had to echo or reject the central story. If it doesnt do either, it has to go. No questions asked. There just isnt enough time or audience patience to go around, for plots to compete for attention. Stick to one central story, with connected subplots. And youll not only create a more brisk story, but the audience will forget about where the story is going, and just sit back and enjoy the ride.
Action Step No.4: Create 2-3 subplots for your story that all make some statement about the main plot. (Or rewrite your existing subplots so they are more related to your central plot.)
right and a wrong. Its a choice between a wrong and a wrong. Does Indiana Jones go after the antidote to the poison in his body or the diamond he's spent his whole life chasing? Does Michael Corleone whack his brother Fredo or does he risk the safety and business interests of his family? Does Clarice Starling risk being humiliated and intimidated by Hannibal Lecter or does she let Buffalo Bill continue to run free? And they dont have to be as epic and monumental as these. You can also use them at the scene and sequence level. Imagine your main character is a cop chasing a villain in a car chase across New York City. Does he sideswipe the luxury car parked on the side or does he go up on the curb and possibly hit the homeless guy sleeping on the street? Does he brake for the baby carriage that ends up in the middle of the street or does he plow through it in the quest for law and order? Does he shoot the villain when he has the chance or does he take him in with all legal means necessary? And heres the awesome cool part. Notice how all of these dilemmas say something about the character. We dont need a four-page monologue about the character describing his belief in justice by any means necessary. (We can get that from him shooting an unarmed villain in the back.) So next time you find yourself in that awful nowhere land of your script--and you will-- just remember to inject it with some serious dilemmas. (And you might just find your way back to safety quicker than you thought.)
Action Step No.5: Make sure your story has a somebody who is forced to do the last thing on Earth they want to do. Over and over again.
Kick-Ass Screenplay Secret No.6: Make Sure Your Characters Feel Pain (and Lots of It) When They Express Themselves
Ever watch the Superfriends cartoon? As an American child of the 70s, I never missed the opportunity to spend Saturday mornings jacking myself up on high-fructose cereal. And then in the throes of a sugar high, I would watch as Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman and the rest of the DC universe battled the collection of arch-villains who called the "Legion of Doom" home. And as any fan will know, there always came a time in the show when a character had to do something complicated. Something important. Something that required exposition. And so you'd have Aquaman swim toward the Hoover Dam control center, in an attempt to turn off the main reactor before Lex Luthor arrived. And Aquaman would utter: "If only I can get to the Hoover Dam control center, and turn off the main reactor, before Lex Luthor arrives." Well, no shit, Aquaman. We can SEE what you're doing. We don't need to HEAR it as well. And that's the problem with on-the-nose dialogue. It expresses exactly what the character thinks and feels. And it's duller than a CSPAN marathon.
Suppose we have a scene like this: JIM, 34, stumbles into his apartment. Turns on the light. JENNY, his girlfriend, sits in a chair. Seething. JENNY I'm so mad at you right now. (Sobs) This drinking has got to stop. Jim looks down. JIM I'm really sorry. Jenny walks out. I'd rather watch Speed Racer. Twice. Then have to read any more of that literal, surface crap. Suppose we change it up: JIM, 34, stumbles into his apartment. Turns on the light. JENNY, his girlfriend, sits in a chair. Seething. JENNY I'm so mad at you right now. (smiles) This drinking has got to stop. Jim looks down. I'm really-JIM
Jenny walks up to him. Throws him onto the bed. Kisses his neck. Now we're getting somewhere. And it's not just about sex. It's about making sure there's a disconnect between what people are saying and what they're feeling or doing. It's crack for moviegoers. (And it makes actors REALLY excited to perform your material.) So...how do you do this?
Well, lots of screenwriter gurus suggest you map out each scene with internal and external motivations. Then diagram wants and desires for every character in the scene so they intersect into a finley-woven tapestry of organization and motivated behavior. But I think there's a far simpler approach.
Action Step No.6: Write your script the wrong way, where everybody is an open book, so you can rewrite it with nuance and intrigue.
That every word you write is perfect, succinct and emotionally compelling. You'll announce to your loved ones what kind of car you'll buy them when you sell your script. Because there's no way someone as good as you can be overlooked for long. Truth is...neither is true. Or both are true. Doesn't really matter. What matters is you keep working. This business is littered with great talent who've optioned a script or two and then found themselves manning the counter at Blockbuster. The secret is to just keep moving forward. Because while the bipolar upand-down of being a writer may not kill you, it will certainly kill your joy of writing. And writing, when it's good, is the best thing in the world. So, chill out. Take your Xanax. Do some yoga. Kill some zombies on your Xbox. And then get to work. You may not write very good stuff today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. But if you keep writing, the universe will reward you with something amazing. A story worth telling. And that can change the world. (Including your own.) Good luck with your writing. And kick writer's block in the ass! Michael Rogan
http://ScriptBully.com Twitter/@ScriptBully
Facebook.com/ScriptBully