A million authors have written about the genius of Julius K. Epstein, Philip G. Epstein and Howard Koch‘s screenplay; over 75 years it has become an ingrained part of cinema history and culture. Though its influence on today’s popular culture has waned, for screenwriters, it’s an enduring touchstone for lessons in screenwriting. Which is what got me thinking – what did I learn from Casablanca this time?

Actions speak louder than words

That’s the yardstick when you want to know how to judge a person’s character. Watch what they do, not what they say. It’s one of the Golden Rules of screenwriting, too. It’s the backbone of what makes a character feel relatable and realistic to an audience.

So when I look at Humphrey Bogart‘s character, Rick Blaine, in Casablanca, what kind of person do I see at the beginning of the film? Is he a ‘changed man’ by the end? Do his actions support this, or just his words? Let’s look at the evidence.

Rick is described as cynical by Ugarte (Peter Lorre) in the beginning of the movie. More than once we hear Rick himself say, “I stick my neck out for no one.” By the end of the film though, Rick seems a changed man.

I stick my head out for nobody

He sacrifices his own happiness for that of his former flame, Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman), so she and her husband, WWII resistance leader Victor Laszlo (Paul Heinrid) can escape the Nazis and continue leading the movement from the safer shores of the US.

That seems like a pretty cut-and-dried character arc. Rick goes from selfish and cynical, to hopeful and selfless. Job done. Arc complete.

But did he really? Was his inner transformation as a person really that profound? I don’t think it was. I think this guy was just bitter because he got his heart broken, but that heartbreak didn’t really change who he was on the inside, despite what he told others.

Rick’s Redemption

That’s why Lazslo comments that Rick sounds like someone who’s “trying to convince themselves of something he doesn’t really believe” when Rick professes to be motivated solely by self interest. The evidence is in his actions throughout the movie:

• Rick helps a young Bulgarian couple after the wife has admitted she slept with Captain Renault (Claude Rains) to secure transit visas for her and her husband.
• When Signor Ferrari (Sydney Greenstreet) offers to ‘buy’ Rick’s piano man, Sam, Rick refuses to participate in the ‘trading of human lives’, and proves it by giving Sam the final say in whether he wants to ,work for someone else.
• When Captain Renault closes down Rick’s cafe, Rick keeps his entire staff on full pay, even though it could bankrupt him.
• Rick’s past running guns for the losing sides in other wars is further proof he’s a sucker for the underdog.

Captain Renault is right – Rick is really a “rank sentimentalist”, so I think we can say that the change he achieves is more of a simple but very relatable kind: he gets over his broken heart.

Rank Sentimentalist

When confronted with Lazslo’s selflessness, Rick realizes he’s just being spiteful because Ilsa deserted him in Paris to be with a man who is a better version of himself. Any man’s ego would be wounded by that.

He’s also confronted with Ilsa’s selflessness. Remember the young Bulgarian wife who slept with Captain Renault to get the visas? That was a minor but important B-plot that foreshadowed and built sympathy of Ilsa. She asks Lazslo indirectly if he could forgive her for doing such a thing, and he indirectly says yes.

Rick recognizes this when she claims to still be in love with him. It’s what he’s always dreamed of, having Ilsa back in his arms, but he knows what she’s doing. My God, between Lazslo and Ilsa, how could Rick not feel like a heel for hanging on to those letters of transit!

The Beginning Of A Beautiful Friendship

Being the good guy that we know he really is, he decides enough is enough; a little closure has helped heal his broken heart and he can do the right thing – he let’s Ilsa go with Lazslo to America.

I’ll never forget the impact that final moment of goodbye between Rick and Ilsa had on me the first dozen times I saw the film. Rick’s heroic sacrifice pulls at your heartstrings, but when you examine his change of heart in context, you see why this is such an enduring masterpiece of a film. Rick’s change was something we could all recognize from our lives.

We’ve all had our hearts broken and eventually gotten over it, but how many of us have done it for such a noble reason? We like to think we could, that’s why we love heroes like Rick.

-Phil Parker

Phil Parker

Screenwriter Phil Parker has written screenplays for directors and producers around the world. His highly awarded spec script ‘The Third Bomb’ is currently under option with BAFTA-winning producer Sias Wilson. Phil also has many years of experience writing scripts for original content and promos at the BBC, where he won a coveted Global Excellence Promax BDA Award for ‘Frontline War’.

www.storiesbyphil.com

Zombies have long formed their own, important sub-genre in movies. The genre started with White Zombie back in 1932, and it keeps going strong.

Today, it seems that the undead have a higher survival rate at the box office than many other genres. One of my recent favourites was the Korean master piece Train To Busan (2016).

Remove The Head, Destroy The Brain

Zombie pictures rarely cross over into mainstream territory, and this is what made Shaun Of The Dead special. It was produced in the year my son was born, and 12 years later we watched it together. We had a ball. The ultimate father/son bonding movie.

Shaun is a classic that defies pigeonholing, and it transcends style. It satisfies the staunchest fan of the genre, as well as those who have never seen any of Shaun’s zombie predecessors.

Among others, it pays homage to the movies of George A. Romero, easily the most revered zombie writer/director in cinema history.

Apparently Romero was so impressed with Shaun that he asked filmmakers Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright to appear for zombie cameos in Land of the Dead (2005), the fourth part in Romero’s Dead series.

How To Make Zombies Go Viral

For reasons other than a recent zombie outbreak, super slacker Shaun is pushed out of his comfort zone. He has to get his girlfriend back, kill his mum’s boyfriend, and make it to the pub alive. Or, as the IMDB logline states in a rare example of clarity:

A man decides to turn his moribund life around by winning back his ex-girlfriend, reconciling his relationship with his mother, and dealing with an entire community that has returned from the dead to eat the living.

It gives us the goals, the circumstances/stakes, and the theme.

When a logline works, it often promises a well-structured, easily-remembered story, and this is exactly what Shaun Of The Dead delivers.

Filmmakers tend to underestimate the value of a simple logline, reflecting a clear structure. They think it makes the film feel predictable, or it dumbs things down. You know why a short, crystal-clear logline is so important?

It makes word of mouth a piece of cake.

After seeing the movie, my 12-year old could summarise the essence of the story in once sentence. That’s how successful movie marketing works.

Don’t get me wrong: you still need to deliver a brilliant movie. But the masses will do the viral campaigning for you.

Avoiding Death By Slackers

Shaun impersonates the perfect transformational character, forced to go on a mission that would be impossible for his normal self.

Early in the story, his girlfriend Liz paints the picture of where he is going with his life: “Look, if I don’t do something, I’m gonna end up in that pub every night for the rest of my life like those other sad old fuckers, drinking myself to death wondering what the hell happened.”

Shaun needs to grow up, let go of the friend who enables his immaturity, and settle with Liz… if he doesn’t want to lose her.

In a mythological sense, he will also need to kill his father, so he can enter the realm of masculine adulthood. And all the while, he is metaphorically surrounded by the threat of death by slackers.

The first act runs for about 35 minutes, yet it doesn’t drag. The zombie outbreak gives it tension, and the Wright/Pegg dialogue and editing gives it pace. As a result, the shortish second act feels nice and tight, too.

Shaun Of The Dead – Break Into 2

In the scene/sequence that concludes Act One, Shaun gives us an exact rundown of what he needs to achieve in the movie. It could be a rehearsal for the movie’s pitch, edited in the signature snappy Edgar Wright style.

But before we get to this sequence, Ed calls into the phone: “We’re coming to get you, Barbara!”

The irony is that George A. Romero, who was given a private viewing of the film, was oblivious to the fact that this line was copied literally from his own film Night of the Living Dead (1968). He only found out later after a phone conversation with Wright.

What follows is fabulous storytelling. We first see the events as they should happen, but with each next version, Shaun shows an increasingly flawed response to the various calls to adventure.

On the last shot of the sequence, we know where the story really should not, but might well end: the Winchester.

-Karel Segers

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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So I didn’t get the Simpson’s scene where Principal Skinner chases Bart in The Boy Who Knew Too Much (1994), let alone the episode Itchy & Scratchy Land from the same year.

The Original Terminator

Michael Crichton wrote the novel that Steven Spielberg turned into Jurassic Park (1993), which is essentially the same story as Westworld if you substitute dinosaurs for people. When Malcolm (Goldblum) in that movie says the “Pirates didn’t come to life and kill people”, he is obviously referencing Westworld. Another one I had missed.

A major character in this film – and in our clip below – is The Gunslinger (Yul Brynner). As homage to The Magnificent Seven, he wears the same outfit as in the Sturgess western: all black, like the TV version’s Man In Black.

The fans often refer to the Gunslinger as the original Terminator. Schwarzenegger reportedly based his performance on Brynner’s. You get it: for an overall better entertainment experience, watch Westworld. You’ll definitely have more fun if you watch the HBO show after savouring this feature.

Have We Got A Vacation For You

The movie did well at the box office. It cost only $1.5m to produce, made nearly three times that amount during its first release, and it took even more during the re-release a few years later.

You wouldn’t think this success came as a surprise, given the terrific high concept. Nobody had seen anything like this before: a thousand-dollar-a-day resort where people go on a holiday to act out their forbidden primal desires. Then, of course, things get out of control.

The truth is: despite the great concept, Crichton struggled to get it financed, the film was troubled with all sorts of production nightmares and the story doesn’t really hold up very well today.

Even back then, writer/director Crichton completely re-edited the first cut of the movie because he was depressed by how “long and boring” it was.

After Westworld, he learned a thing or two about basic screen story structure.

Westworld’s Structural Malfunctionings

[SPOILERS] Westworld’s realism, its tremendous attention for detail, and its slow build reminded me of 2001 A Space Odyssey.

It seems Crichton wanted it to look like pure sci-fi. If you can appreciate this, and you can transport yourself back to the 1970’s, you’ll enjoy the movie. If you prefer fast-paced however, skip straight to HBO.

Until the movie’s mid point, nothing really happens that is out of the ordinary in Westworld. In fact, the encounter with a malfunctioning rattlesnake is the real (and much overdue) Call To Adventure. How so?

Everything before this moment really belongs to the world our characters have been in during the entire movie. As long as it is functioning properly, the resort is the movie’s Ordinary World.

Doesn’t Anything Work Around Here?

A strong Call to Adventure (CTA) is an event that has never happened before, that has an impact on the main character, and that calls for action. It is always an Event happening to the hero, never an Action by the hero.

Here, in response to this CTA, our heroes should no longer trust the safety of the park, and the appropriate action would be to leave.

Remember Jurassic Park? That structure worked. When you’re developing a feature, it is always helpful to find successful precedents with a similar concept, and study their structure.

To make a screen story work for today’s audiences, the story catalyst should sit at least half an hour earlier.

Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy, creators of the HBO’s show understood this, and introduced the inciting incident/CTA (the first on-screen malfunctioning ‘host’) within the first half hour of Episode 1.

Bring In The Gunslinger

Apparently Yul Brynner was one of only two actors in Hollywood who wouldn’t blink during the firing of a gun. Okay, that’s a piece of totally useless trivia, but still fun(*).

In this clip from Westworld, Brynner delivers an extraordinary blend of cowboy cool, and techno cold. “Get this boy a bib,” he taunts Peter (Richard Benjamin)… “He needs his mama.”

The moment is retained in the TV series, when one of the heroes spurs the other on to start a fight. They’re invincible anyway… Even though we know that the Gunslinger’s bullet can’t hurt our heroes, the tension is palpable…

Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes that is indeed Christian Bale who traveled back in time to play John Blane (James Brolin).

-Karel Segers

(* the other one: Clint Eastwood)

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Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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Chariots of Fire was hugely successful, though. It ended up making nearly $60 million at the US box office alone. It also won four Academy Awards, one for its original score.

I remember enjoying the movie, and as a fan of the early music of Vangelis (who also scored Blade Runner), I was curious to see if and how 25 years later the film would hold up.

Minimal Appeal

I put Chariots Of Fire on my watch list, but didn’t get around to buying the BluRay until its 30^th anniversary. It took another five years before I actually watched it.

Do you have that, too? Some films you really want to see, yet you never end up being in the right mood. Perhaps because of all the reasons Michael Hauge gave when he labeled the movie a fluke.

This so-called logline in IMDb doesn’t help, either: “Two British track athletes, one a determined Jew and the other a devout Christian, compete in the 1924 Olympics.”

Whoever wrote it, must have missed an act or two. The first half of the story takes place in Cambridge from 1919, and shows Jewish student Harold Abrahams’ determination to counter the prevailing anti-Semitism, by proving he is the university’s best runner:

“I’m gonna take them on, all of them, one by one, and run them off their feet.”

Director Without A Clue?

The movie still works, mostly because of the sheer obsession of its main players. And running is in a way very cinematic. (Tom Cruise has known this all along) But what is it about?

Tom Stemple wrote an amusing piece about two video interviews, one with writer Colin Welland, and the other with director Hugh Hudson. After he listened to Welland, he concluded: “Religion is the main theme of the film. Then I turned over the tape and listened to Hudson. He talked at great length about the mechanics of shooting the film. It became clear from how he talked that he did not have a clue what the movie was about.”

Really? It’s not that hard to see what this is about. As the act one curtain falls, in a textbook declaration of the hero’s objective – the ‘Outer Journey’ if you wish – Abrahams vows to “run them off their feet.” It is a fairly open goal, but in good tradition, the mid point will specify it further as ‘winning at the Olympics’.

The theme is clarified in the movie moment that I will show you below. While adversary Liddell runs because he finds his inspiration within, in his faith (“when I run, I feel His pleasure”), for Abrahams the motivation lies external.  It is all about how others perceive him. His faith defines him negatively. He wants to fight prejudice by proving himself worthy, through running – to an Oscar®-score.

Oscar To The Greek

Synthetic soundtracks usually don’t age very well, and their composers rarely achieve more than cult status, e.g. Carpenter, Moroder, Wendy Carlos (for Kubrick), Tangerine Dream (for Michael Mann) and Vangelis. But did you know that Hans Zimmer’s early scores were largely synthesizer-based?

Nothing is more subjective than music, and I was expecting for Chariots Of Fire’s Oscar-winning score to be quite dated.

At the opening credit, my fear was confirmed.

As we see the Cambridge men running on the beach in slow motion, over Vangelis’ main theme, I cringe. The tune has been played to death, to a point that it distracts.

Director Hugh Hudson made a beginner’s mistake: images and music never carry any intrinsic cinematic emotion. Unless an emotion is set up through a character’s experience, the moment is shallow. To the mainstream audience at the time, this music cue appealed as a catchy tune, rather than an effective movie score. A lubricant into the actual movie. Thirty-five years on, it no longer works (to me).

Ars Electronica

That opening image with the famous tune may be what most punters remember about the movie, but it’s also devoid of emotion. We don’t know these guys yet. Pretty pictures, but we don’t really care.

To my surprise however, the rest of the score holds up fairly well, and one scene in particular jumps out.

There is a moment twenty minutes into act two that really works in terms of emotional – and musical – payoff. 

Chariots Of Fire – Movie Moment

Abrahams and Liddell meet for the first time in London in June 1923, when they race against each other in a British open. Liddell beats Abrahams, who takes it extremely badly.

Over the rhythmic clapping of the grandstand seats, sharp electronic shards from the legendary Yamaha CS80 synthesizer emphasise our Hero’s pain, alternating with more subtle filtered ‘pads’.

In that moment, Sybil appears, to comfort her lover. Now we see what our Hero’s real problem is: “I don’t run to take beatings. If I can’t win, I won’t run.” She realises it is all about his ego, and this is exactly what he needs to resolve before the movie is over.

“Ring me when you’ve sorted that one out. Try growing up.”

-Karel Segers

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Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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After the release of Batman vs. Superman (2016), articles and videos appeared about Hollywood’s obsession with *moments* at the expense of *scenes*. Ironically, when I write about movie moments, mostly they are meaty dramatic scenes.

This time, I am going to show you something special. Some scene/moment hybrid.

Cult Invasion

If you are familiar with the best of Asian cinema, you will know how much it has influenced our screen culture over the years. Hollywood westerns, as well as Star Wars are indebted to Kurosawa, The Matrix borrows heavily from manga (like Ghost In The Shell); and TV shows like True Detective have a distinct Korean feel to it.

Only once in a blue moon do Asian films themselves make it to the Western box office, and break out big, as did for instance Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

A Kung Fu Hustle Spectacular

When Stephen Chow’s Kung Fu Hustle (2004) was released in the US, it opened in more theatres than any other foreign language before. Its global box office takings exceeded a hundred million dollars, and so doubled the director’s previous success Shaolin Soccer.

The movie’s credits are almost all Chinese, as the film was produced entirely in Hong Kong. Among the rare Western credits is an Australian sound post-production house (Soundfirm).

A supreme achievement of the modern age in terms of comedy.

Kung Fu Hustle tells the story of the inhabitants of Pig Sty Alley, fighting the notorious Axe Gang, in spectacular kung fu action fashion.

Much like most hero’s journeys, the movie stays light-hearted throughout its first half. Fight scenes are entertaining and funny, and only the baddies die. The comedy is world class, and Bill Murray has declared to be a fan. He called it a “supreme achievement of the modern age in terms of comedy.” And: “There should have been a day of mourning for American comedy the day that movie came out.”

Beware Of The Harpists

Halfway the story, the cast of characters is joined by a sinister duo of Sitar players, ‘the Harpists’.

In a wonderfully cinematic scene of a mere sixty seconds, we are warned that the stakes have just gone up – exponentially. In order to survive, the heroes of Pig Sty Alley will now have to fight harder. A lot harder.

The scene is not representative of the kinetic kung fu action set pieces that define this film, but it does show Stephen Chow’s knack for pure visual storytelling.

In contrast to the movie’s high-budget tentpole moments, it is simple and even subdued. We’re just watching Cookie’s last moments until he falls prey to the power of the Harpists’ evil trickery.

Cookie’s Fate

[SPOILERS] – As Cookie turns and walks away from the Harpist, we follow him first from the back. If you look carefully, you will see shrub leaves to his right be cut off, and fall away, silently.

Then, we follow Cookie from the side, and in the background we see a terracotta jar sliced in two, with water spilling out. Not a sound is heard.

Next – still in the background – a cat on the roof stalks closer, towards the roof edge, jumps …

What follows, you will need to watch for yourself. Indirectly, it is foreshadowed that things may not end well for Cookie.

This short scene not only shows supreme visual cinema; it offers a great example of dramatic irony. The character doesn’t have the information, but we do.

This creates terrific suspense, and in true cinematic tradition you will take pleasure … in anticipating the worst.

-Karel Segers

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Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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Sometimes I watch a movie and a week later I have forgotten everything, except for one single scene. Do you have that, too? Invariably, this happens more often with movies that have an unusual narrative structure.

After watching Charlie Wilson’s War, I forgot everything except for a handful of masterful scenes and the ‘zen master’ ending.  To me, one scene stood out above all else. It is an instant classic, and a class example of expert use of dramatic construction, exposition and subtext.

You could do a whole masterclass, just on the scene structure of this moment.

Charlie Wilson’s Fail

Charlie Wilson’s War is by all standards a solid film, but most people will agree this is not a great movie.

With Sorkin on story, a budget of $75m, and Tom Hanks’ & Julia Roberts’ star power, the studio must have looked at the domestic result of $66m as a big disappointment. If a film of this calibre doesn’t reach the mainstream, usually the filmmakers are to blame.

But if you’re a discerning viewer, you don’t want the studios to stop making these pictures.  In fact, if you love political intrigue, you’re on the left of the political spectrum, and you enjoy great dialogue, then this film is pure delight.

Sorkin has said that he never has an agenda when he writes. Really? Charlie Wilson makes a pretty darn strong statement.

Out of its contemporary 2007 political context – the West fighting a heavily armed Taliban in Afghanistan – this is a straightforward hero movie with a happy ending. Add the zen master perspective, and it becomes a wry satire about the bungling and moral murkiness of American politics.

The stuff of great drama.

Why Didn’t It Work?

Satire is a tricky genre at the US box office, particularly if it’s just smart, and you leave out the primal elements.

Borat worked – primal allover – but what other satires do you know that broke out and went big?

Charlie Wilson’s War recounts the eponymous Texan Congressman’s lobbying in the arms race during the Soviet-Afghan war of the late 70’s.

What started as a covert operation with a budget of $5m spins out of control to an all-out war effort spending more than a hundred times that amount.

With stars like Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Emily Blunt, a screenplay by Aaron Sorkin and Mike Nichols at the helm, this is nothing short of a dream team. Still, the movie didn’t made its money back.

In my view, one reason the film didn’t work is because it ends ironically. (The reason it did work for me, is Sorkin’s addictive dialogue, and his masterful sense of scene structure)

In the McKee sense of the word, the resolution is a tainted victory. There is no clear happy ending. Wilson wins his war, but at the end of the film we are reminded of where the resources of this arms race ended up: with the Mujahideen – and by extension, the Taliban.

We don’t really need McKee to explain that this is also pure, literal irony.

Flawed Movie – Fabulous Scene

If Sorkin’s movies lack cinematic arcs, their individual scene structure makes up for it. Borrowed from stage theatre, he creates sweeping mini-movements that put the best visual screenwriters to shame.

How often do we find a well-constructed, meaty, dramatic scene these days? Pressured by the kinetic editing rhythm of today’s action movies, scenes are often kept too short.

This movie moment from Charlie Wilson’s War is the exception: a classic three-act scene structure with a spectacular climax, and the entire event clocking off at three minutes sharp.

Interestingly, the protagonist is absent; the scene introduces the supporting character of CIA spy Gust Avrakotos.

Hero For One Scene: Gust

In a spectacular collision between Gust and his superior Craigley, we learn all there is to know about Gust.

His CV is substantial, and he gives us all the fine detail. Yet, we happily swallow the expositional subtext, as the drama keeps us at the edge of our seat.

The exposition is subtextual because at the surface, it all starts about an apology. But when Gust arrives at the Langley office, the last thing he wants to do is apologise.

The function of this scene is simple: to introduce the character of Gust.

In my classes, I explain how the most important character aspects are (in order) psychology and sociology. Craigley tells Gust to his face that the reason he lost the Finland job is because he is coarse.

In the scene’s final act, Gust speaks five words that sum up his character’s function (or sociology) in this movie, as well as the scene’s reason d’être: “I am an American spy.”

This has been the subtext of the entire argument, ultimately floating to the surface in the climax.

Scene Structure – Mini Hero’s Journey

When we understand that the argument is no longer about the apology, but about Gust’s missed career opportunity, Sorkin signals this with a First Threshold: a tradesman opens the door, and interrupts the conversation. Scene structure emphasised by action and setting. Beautiful.

If you don’t believe this constitutes the mythical curtain between the scene’s first and second act, do read on.

Gust builds his argument, with tension increasing to the boiling point. At the mid point, things get personal. Gust goes so far that he risks losing his job – and in Hero’s Journey terms his identity – when he attacks Craigley ad hominem, by revealing he knows about an affair. This is the scene’s lowest point, or Ordeal.

Time for the Final Threshold, and guess what Gust does… He opens the door again, to find the tradesman!

What follows next, you’ll need to watch for yourself. Too good to spoil. Let’s skip to the aftermath moment.

In the Hero’s Journey, after the hero has completed the quest, he brings the elixir back to his people (here: “How was I?”), and he is hailed by the community for his achievement: thumbs up!

Pure class.

-Karel Segers

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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Given that it became the most successful animated film ever, I felt compelled to give Frozen another chance. So I watched it with the script in hand. Soon it became obvious that I had missed something. This time around, I was blown away by its refreshing visual splendour, intelligence and genuinely moving storyline.

Walt Disney first tried to adapt H.C. Andersen’s The Snow Queen for the screen in 1937. It took John Lasseter – of Pixar fame – to come around and guide it to success as an Executive Producer.

This only happened in 2012, shortly after Pixar’s purchase by Disney.

Box Office Queen

The back story of Disney’s attempts to get this one to the screen is riveting. Finally, 75 years after Walt’s first attempt, Lasseter teamed producer Peter Del Vecho with Tarzan director Chris Buck and writer/co-director Jennifer Lee. Frozen was released in the winter of 2013.

It beat every other movie of that year at the B.O. — and every other animation in history.

Still, it took me a while before I appreciated the film. I’ve always enjoyed its first act, and in my writing classes, I often show the scene where Anna meets with Prince Hans. This largely verbal ‘meet cute’ is cleverly constructed around a few simple, funny action beats. Without seeing the full film, you might argue it seems somewhat formulaic. Only, later in the movie you realise you were put on the wrong foot, as not all is what it seems.

Against Type [Spoiler]

In quite a few movies – Avatar and Toy Story 3 are examples – the mentor turns out to be the story’s villain.

Frozen produces a shapeshifter that is a lot less common, and darker. Here, the character who turns out to be unreliable is the heroine’s love interest.

You might expect this in a Hitchcock thriller; not so much in a 4-quadrant Disney kids animation.

To me, this is exactly what makes the movie fascinating. It is structured as a full-blown heroine’s journey, yet subverts the archetypes along the way.

Songs Scripted

No matter how much I love this romantic inciting incident at the beginning of Frozen, it’s not my favourite scene. The movie moment that enthralled me the most sits somewhere just before the movie’s halfway point.

On their journey, the characters of Anna and Sven encounter Elsa’s childhood snowman Olaf. He was brought to life inadvertently by Elsa, and in a song he dreams of seeing and experiencing summer for the first time.

The songs in this movie are fabulous. They reveal character, move the story forward, and are super catchy to boot. (*)

Should you want to know how songs are printed in a script, check out the Frozen screenplay. Just watch the video below and enter your details to receive it. You’ll find the songs are printed in BLUE CAPS.

Frozen Summer

In the song In Summer,  Olaf evokes the longing for the unattainable, something I believe everyone can relate to.

“Winter’s a good time to stay in and cuddle, but put me in summer and I’ll be a … [stares into a puddle] … happy snowman!”

The theme of the scene is somewhat reminiscent of Pixar’s 2010’s short film Day And Night, which was packaged before Toy Story 3.

While Olaf celebrates his pipe dream of a hot summer day, we are aware that the world won’t remain frozen forever.

When inevitably thaw will come, what will happen to Olaf? We adore him!
At the end of the movie, this question will get an unpredictable, and satisfying payoff.

Frozen is brilliant. Girlie, yes, and great.

-Karel Segers

Watch the clip below and receive the Frozen script in your inbox!

https://ozzywood.wistia.com/medias/4227a5j7qn?embedType=iframe&seo=false&videoFoam=true&videoWidth=1080

(*) Co-writer/composer Kristen Anderson-Lopez is credited as “additional story by”.

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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Robert McKee went in the right direction with his statement “If the scene is about what the scene is about…” But great writing does not stop at avoiding to ‘write on the nose’.

We just need to go a little further.

I saw Easy Rider for the first time a long time ago. In fairness, I was never too keen on seeing it again. My recollection of it was slow, self-indulgent, and celebrating a culture I am not a part of.
Recently I studied thresholds, those sequences in movies where characters are on the move, as a metaphor of their psychological progress. I wanted to understand what this legendary road movie had to say about that.

Arthouse With A Story

Easy Rider was released in the year Nixon took office. Close to fifty years later, it is baffling how little has changed in the grand scheme of the American socio-political landscape. Easy Rider feels like an end-of-an-era movie, and today we are there again. While all hope is lost, the masses are watching Captain America and preparing to vote for Trump.

The first seven minutes of Easy Rider show what anti-heroes Billy and Wyatt (Captain America) are all about: two seemingly careless bikers who finance their freedom with the occasional drug deal.

When the opening credits roll over Steppenwolf’s Born To Be Wild, the film is already breaking new ground, as soundtracks had never consisted of existing song compilations. Against some spectacular cinematic backdrops – trademark of the movie and its cinematographer Laszlo Kovacs – the sequence launches the first minor threshold, leading us into the story.

And this may be an arthouse pic, but there is a clear visible goal: to make it to New Orleans in time for Mardi Gras.

Of course this is not the type of film that keeps you hooked because of its riveting plot. What matters lies under the surface.

No Subtext Without Serious Digging

After the hippies pick up a hitchhiker, and fill up with gas, we’re in for some serious musical sightseeing. Over The Weight by The Band, the bikers cruise through Monument Valley, where they hole up for the night.

After the beauty, fun and freedom of the riding scenes, Wyatt now seems reflective; perhaps even tormented.
Billy asks “What’s the matter?” Wyatt replies: “I’m a little tired.” Later he says “I’m just getting my thing together.” I believe that’s exactly what this movie is about.

In the non-verbal, conventional sense , what Wyatt is saying here is “I don’t really want to talk with you any further right now.” The real subtext of the scene will only transpire later in the movie, when a pattern is established.

That pattern: Wyatt is tired of this life. He is ready to make new choices. Always being on the run from society may not be the solution for him. To me this seals the first act of this film; we know the destination, and we understand the psychological challenge the hero is facing.

America Getting Its Thing Together

Easy Rider is Captain America’s quest for identity and purpose, and by association, this is a metaphor for the nation’s journey towards redemption. Metaphors are part of the deeper subtext of a story.

When Billy laughs irreverently, the hiker tells him to be ‘a trifle polite’, as “the people this place belongs to are buried right under you.” In a non-verbal sense, the hitchhiker doesn’t like Billy’s attitude.

On a broader subtextual level, this may be why the hiker has fled the city. Because it builds on the burial grounds. His remark to Billy may also be criticising the nihilist attitude of those who attack everyone and everything, but don’t have a valuable alternative to offer.

Billy has long lost any values he might have had. He now floats from one high to the next, ignorant and numb. Without Wyatt, he is nobody. Wyatt seems to be more aware. He wasn’t born to follow – tons of subtext in the music, here – and he is still hopeful for that redemption. If only he might find himself somewhere along Route 66.

Spoiler alert: he won’t.

What Subtext Really Is About

Father Henry Fonda didn’t understand what his son Peter was going on about with Easy Rider. This is not your regular Hollywood picture. Its meaning doesn’t lay bare on the surface. But it’s there for those willing to look.

A scene early in the movie sets it up. Billy (Hopper) and Captain America (Peter Fonda) invite themselves for lunch with a farmer and his large family. “My wife is catholic, you know.” Wyatt commends the rancher on the fact that he’s built a good living for himself.

The contrast between the rancher and his family, and the free-riding bikers who haven’t achieved anything tangible is stark. For Wyatt, this is a call to adventure. Perhaps it is a solution to his empty soul.

“No, I mean it, you’ve got a nice place. It’s not every man that can live off the land, you know. You do your own thing in your own time. You should be proud.”

And although Captain America is literally saying what he means, this line of dialogue provides true subtext. It is the meaning of the movie, and we are not (yet) aware of it. It will gain greater depth as the movie rolls on, and if we make an effort to look beyond merely non-verbal communication, we will slowly become aware of it.

Wyatt is ready to seek a purpose. He even considers settling. Easy Rider is the journey he goes on to figure this out.

-Karel Segers

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Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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Soon after I first watched this movie, I had the fortune of meeting with composer David Raksin. He told me an anecdote that teaches us a thing or two about the issues that even seasoned filmmakers face. It also shows the power of the composer.

Preminger wanted to show how the main character – a detective – was falling in love with Laura. Or rather, he was falling in love with Laura’s portrait. She herself had been murdered. The critical scene didn’t work, and without it, the entire movie would fail.

The director asked the composer to fix it, by writing a suitable music cue.

Raksin struggled under the pressure. He lacked inspiration, as he was in a dark space. His girlfriend had just broken up with him … in a letter.

About to throw in the towel, Raksin sat down at the piano, and put the letter on the music rack. He read it again, while improvising a melody.  Raksin ended up composing what would become one of the most recorded love themes in cinema history.

Was it all a dream?

The story is that of Detective McPherson, who investigates the murder of Laura Hunt. In the process, he realises he is more than just intrigued with the victim.

About forty minutes into the film, for the first time McPherson is alone in Laura’s flat, and while he is admiring Laura’s portrait on the wall, the famous love theme plays.

This moment sits right at the movie’s mid point, and it could have had everything of a traditional love scene, if it weren’t for the inconvenient fact that the lover is in fact … dead.

At the end of the scene, the detective has a drink and falls asleep, which has spurred some to claim that the rest of the movie could be interpreted as merely a dream.

In an alternative cut of the film, the ending had a character suggest that the whole story had been imagined.

As you may know, both options are among the worst possible ways to end any story, so the original cut was restored.

In love with a painting

While McPherson gets more and more familiar with Laura, her surroundings and her entourage, a knock on the door introduces Waldo Lydecker, a close friend to Laura, and a potential suspect in the murder case.

If Raksin’s love theme didn’t already communicate what was going on between McPherson and the painting, Lydecker states it in his own acerbic manner: “You better watch out, McPherson, or you’ll end up in a psychiatric ward. I don’t think they’ve ever had a patient who fell in love with a corpse.”

The entire film abounds in spectacular, quotable dialogue, the type Robert McKee would urge you to cut.

Admittedly, the film was made over seventy years ago and today, the lines sound theatrical. In particular the character of Lydecker boasts a language that you would now only hear on the stage. Yet it sounds sharp, to the point, and appropriate for this character, a writer of short stories – and a narcissist.

Preminger deserves the credit for bringing this delightful character to the foreground, against the wishes of the original playwright Vera Caspary.

More proof that the last thing a movie adaptation needs to do, is honouring the original.

A remake of Laura has been announced, and before you panic: the writer is James Ellroy, genius behind Black Dahlia and LA Confidential.

-Karel Segers

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Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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Unless you’ve read the original novel, you won’t know until late in the film that Under The Skin is the story of an alien in human form. Still, the filmmakers reveal in interviews: “part road movie, part science fiction, part real, it’s a film about seeing our world through alien eyes.”

Spoilers Would Have Helped

In fairness, I would have enjoyed the film a whole lot better if I knew this before watching. Perhaps this confusion about what to reveal and what not lies at the basis of director Jonathan Glazer’s mixed success at the box office.

Glazer is what you would call a cult director. He has a smallish, dedicated following. His debut Sexy Beast grossed only about $10m worldwide, but it established him as a force in the indie world. For Birth, his next, he had $20m to play with (most of which I suspect went to Nicole Kidman’s fee).

That movie barely made its money back, and it took Glazer nine years before getting another picture into the theatres. With a production budget of $13m and a reported worldwide gross of just over $5m for Under The Skin, one wonders if he’ll be helming again any time soon.

Under Your Skin

Still, I’ll always be interested in Glazer’s movies. They are eerie, unnerving. They linger in your memory, and get under your skin. To me, this is a sign of relevant cinema.

In this picture, Scarlett Johansson plays a woman who roams Scotland seducing men, then killing them. This ritual repeats itself over and over, until she too meets a harrowing end. The scenes of seduction and sex are disorienting and alienating, to an extent that we can’t really tell what is going on, how and why.

Scarlett Johansson’s Skin

It is one of those stories I kept watching out of intrigue (contrary, of course, to those who confessed to keep watching for the substantial amount of Scarlett in the flesh). Where could this all possibly lead?

When any answer is ultimately lacking, you are left with the choice to accept this as art – or dismiss it as nonsense. I’m divided. In my view, great cinema doesn’t leave the viewers in the dark, with an attitude of “Didn’t you get it?”

Or was this film intended for readers of the original novel only? Not a convincing business model, if you ask me.

Glazer’s Idea Of Beach Fun

That said, Under The Skin has one scene that represents Glazer’s style of filmmaking.

If you haven’t seen the movie, I’m not sure whether it will draw you in, or turn you off completely (I guess this may also depend on your appetite for Scarlett Johansson). But it may haunt you forever… if you’re a human.

The scene sits about twenty-five minutes in, and is set at the beach during wild weather. Our heroine watches the drowning of a couple in the waves while their infant child is left alone, crying. As a parent, I found this the most heart-wrenching scene ever.

But it’s not over yet.

This is only the setup – being a long one – for what is to come. Unmoved, the woman observes how a swimmer in wetsuit fails to rescue the couple, and washes up on the beach, exhausted.

What happens next, is profoundly disturbing, and if you’re in need of something to cheer you up, perhaps leave this one for later.

Or pour yourself something strong.

-Karel Segers

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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