For years, I blindly followed this dogma, as it seemed to make a lot of sense. Learn from good and bad examples. Don’t we all do that in other fields? With hundreds of screenplays readily available for download from www.script-o-rama.com, www.imsdb.com and other sources, it appeared to be a quick and easy way to study the craft of scriptwriting.

But does it?

On average, I try to watch a movie a day, either in the cinema or on DVD. With the birth of my son late 2004, that became a bit more of a challenge. I found myself falling asleep in the second act. To remedy the ‘early fatherhood syndrome’, I would make notes, forcing myself to stay awake. As long as I had the discipline, I would even type them up into structural diagrams.

Suddenly, I had a revelation: the more I liked the film, the easier it was to find the Aristotelian three act structure and the principles of dramatic tension.

Revelation? Hardly.

What was truly phenomenal was that to crack the key to the film’s story structure, it had taken me only the duration of the film plus a few minutes. If I had read the screenplay instead, I’d have spent hours reading and taking notes – and only then would I be able to start work on piecing together the structure. A finished film underscores the drama in ways that help you identify the importance of the beat, scene or sequence: through music, fades or the use of light and colour (Soderbergh’s TRAFFIC is an extreme example).

At the time of writing I was developing a story with Wojciech – “Aerosol” – Wawrzyniak, whose structure is vaguely similar to Kenneth Brannagh’s MARY SHELLEY’S FRANKENSTEIN (thank you, Chris) so we decided to read the screenplay and watch the movie.

That’s when the true value in reading screenplays became apparent: it allows you to compare script and finished film. It shows the areas where filmmakers struggled, where what was on the page didn’t translate into what was onscreen.

Comparing script and film also reveals where directors made last minute decisions because they didn’t believe the script worked (or more often, the money ran out). A great example is the Chicago Train Station climax in THE UNTOUCHABLES. Mamet’s original Third Act had Capone’s accountant going on the train, with a chase and shootout following. However, De Palma had blown the budget and was forced to improvise.

For years, De Palma had been dreaming of shooting a homage to Eisenstein ‘Odessa Steps’ sequence from THE BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN. A budget issue in THE UNTOUCHABLES finally threw the opportunity into his lap. In my view, reading lots of screenplays is the hard way to learning how to write good stories. However, analyzing a few classic scripts in terms of language, style and formatting may help you find the right balance to turn your final draft into a better read.

– Karel

And I see why it is not getting the word of mouth it deserves.

My take on the film is primarily from a broad story perspective. I don’t go into dialogue, performance, SFX etc. because I believe they are secondary and ultimately not decisive for the success of the film.

PUSHING IT: ACT STRUCTURE

In my view, Luhrman and Beattie have knowingly taken a few risks. The main one is the four-act structure. Here I mean: four acts according to the traditional three-act model. Not three acts with the second cut in two.

Both the drover and Sarah have a clear four-act journey. Their first objective is to get the cattle to Darwin, which spans most of the film. As a ‘road movie’, it works fabulously to my taste and it is in the second act that the film has its best moments, including some instant-classic scenes such as the cattle stampede threatening Nulla.

Ironically, the expectation of a traditional three-act structure is reinforced by the death of Flynn, perfectly halfway Act Two.

Then, when they reach Darwin and succeed in their objective, a new objective is set for the next act: the return to Faraway Downs. Here is where the structure begins to collapse. Where we had an instinctive feeling we were moving towards the end of the movie, we have exactly one more hour to go.

Act Three climaxes in the realisation that Nulla is in danger and drover decides to save him. The final act is the rescue of Nulla.

UNDERESTIMATED: POINT OF VIEW

The only other major potential problem is the multiple point of view (POV). Each POV has a serious problem.

The film is told through Nullah, Sarah and Drover.

Nullah’s story is that of the stolen generation: he is trying to stay out of the hands of those who want to take him away from his community.
This story is scattered across the movie and it doesn’t really have the power to span the entire film, to keep the three hours together. When we are in Nullah’s POV though, we all empathise with him because we understand this is a struggle for freedom, a basic human instinct. When sifting through the hundreds of promotional photo’s on australiamovie.net, the photo above is the only one I could find of Nullah. It says a lot about how important the filmmakers see this character and his story.

Sarah’s journey does a better job in tying the movie together, for at least three acts. In order to save her cattle station, she and the drover must undertake an epic cattle drive to Darwin. On the way, she falls in love with him. We empathise with Sarah, because we understand her journey, too. Because of the love journey, she is probably the most powerful POV in the movie. Everybody accepts her falling in love with the drover as he represents masculinity, freedom, her future.

Drover’s POV is more problematic. He wants to help Sarah, then falls in love with her. Here is the problem. Sarah Ashley is portrayed as a completely undesirable female. She is uptight, annyoing and sometimes plain naive. Who would desire such a woman, when you can get much better? I don’t believe many audience members would therefore identify with the Drover.

Looking at the three options, Sarah is the most likely character to identify with. After all, Hugh is a desirable male! I would like to see a breakdown of the demographics in terms of audience reception for Australia. It wouldn’t come as a big surprise if it turns out to be a chic flic.

MINOR ISSUES

Like most other good but not great movies, if you drill down you’ll find a lot of issues that keep you from fully participating.

Towards the end of the movie, I was getting totally annoyed by the mind-numbing repetition of the WIZARD OF OZ theme “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”. The original score of Australia is strong enough, there was no need to revert to this blatant recycling. A film’s identity gets lost when it has to rely on references to other movies to get a point across.

Finally, I found the visual style gorgeous until the arrival in Darwin, where things got completely out of control. Effects became totally in-your-face, unnecessary and plain badly executed. Luhrman had almost created a timeless classic piece of cinema, but in the last two acts he blows it.

That said, I enjoyed AUSTRALIA. The word of warning about its length did help me, as I gave it the time and space it needed.

And about the fascinating heated discussions after posting an article from the SMH and one from The Guardian on my Facebook page and Jason Gordon’s article on the Story Department Group at the end of last year, I would like to say the following: I am a Belgian and I look at Australia’s history with a certain level of neutrality. I find it hypocritical of a nation to say sorry but continue to celebrate Australia Day on 26 January. But I don’t have a desire to see social, political and historical issues resolved in the cinema.

In my view, despite its failure to appeal to the mass audience, AUSTRALIA is still one of the most entertaining Australian films of the decade.

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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But as you’re asking about dialogue, here are some principles that I have observed in great screenplays. And yes: more often than not when writers draw the attention to their dialogue, the story doesn’t work.

These twenty tips are not exhaustive, there are probably another ten major principles and fifty equally valid minor rules of thumb. And each has probably been breached beautifully at some point in great movies.

Feel free to add more or argue any or all of these in the comments.

1. it should never – even remotely – smell like exposition.
2. it should support the subtext, the characters’ secret objective(s).
3. its grammar should be organic and deficient, not perfect.
4. its semantics should be meticulously shaped.5. it should be composed to support the scene’s intended rhythm.
6. it should not sound theatrical unless the character or genre warrants this.
7. lines should get shorter, punchier towards the end of the scene.
8. different characters should have different ‘idiolects’.
9. long dialogue should be broken up by characters’ responses, action etc.
10. avoid talking heads: give characters ‘something to do’ while speaking.
11. strong lines mostly deliver their ‘beat’ at the very end.
12. dialogue shouldn’t open nor end scenes (the latter not a hard rule).
13. characters shouldn’t tell each other what we have already seen.
14. no parentheses unless the line doesn’t work at all without.
15. when a character asks a question, don’t answer it directly.
16. numbers should be spelled out in full.
17. characters should not say exactly what they feel (except in PP2).
18. only use in-jokes, innuendo etc. if the audience understands.
19. avoid tongue-twisters, clever dialogue or lines that stand out.
20. avoid dialogue that only great actors can deliver credibly.

The last two clearly show this is all about spec screenplays by writers who still need to prove themselves. Once you’re up there, you set your own rules. And even then, there are exceptions. Look at the dialogue in Juno. It draws so much attention to itself that some thought those first couple of minutes were borderline indigestible.

Diablo Cody got away with it.

Each principle above is a challenge in itself. That is why often at the very end of your development, when you are tantalisingly close to the final draft, a ‘dialogue pass’ helps making sure every line and every word hits the mark.

Beginning screenwriters can’t always judge whether their own dialogue really works. That’s why it is essential to have a professional do a final polish of your work before you send it out, even if the story works.

Then again, you can avoid all the hard work as tip #20 holds the easy solution to all your dialogue problems.

Just spend an extra ten million on your cast.

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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Since writing the below post, I have come to realise that the mid point may well be the last checkpoint to make sure you have the most powerful story you can get.

I believe the mid point can only exist if everything else works. Without knowing exactly what the outer objective is (Turning Point 1) and how the character changes (Turning Point 2) it is impossible to create the right mid point. The mid point changes the direction of the visible goal (Outer Journey), sometimes it completely changes the goal altogether. It also accelerates the Inner Journey as the protagonist is now committed to resolving the Need.

I have added some notes on THE INCREDIBLES and THE LIVES OF OTHERS to the examples below.

Many unsuccessful movies run out of steam halfway. Even a fair few memorable pics are weak in the middle, or have a ‘soft belly’. The Second Act seems to be the hardest nut to crack. But why? Perhaps because the protagonist is chasing the same objective all along? After all we have a massive chunk of script to fill, about an hour of screentime on average. One remedy is to chop the movie up in quarters. First and last act are roughly one quarter each already, so Act Two we just cut in two.

It’s variously called the mid-act climax, the mid-point, first culmination or the mid-point reversal. I prefer the latter, although it is not always a strict 180 degree turn. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a climax either but it must be a ‘major turning point’. Things will be dramatically different from this point onwards.

Syd Field describes it something like this: “An important scene in the middle of the script, often a reversal of fortune or revelation that changes the direction of the story.” Field suggests that driving the story towards the Midpoint keeps the second act from sagging. For once I find Field more helpful than others. An executive at the talent agency ICM is trying to get his head around it:

“An event occurs wherein the character cannot give up his pursuit. It is a “no turning back point.” The bridge has been burned behind him (figuratively speaking), and he can only move forward. Often, this is manifested as a TICKING CLOCK. In classically structure (sic) romantic comedies, this is the point where the man and woman sleep together.” Hmmm… Not sure about that last one.

Here’s my favourite definition, from Frank Daniel:

“Mid-Point or First Culmination: a Major Reversal of fortune, making Main Character’s task even more difficult. Often, give the audience a very clear glimpse of an answer to the Central Dramatic Question “‘ the hope that Main Character will actually succeed at resolving his problem “‘ only to see circumstances turn the story the other way. First Culmination may be a glimpse at the actual resolution of the picture, or its mirror opposite.”

Let’s look at a few examples to understand the mid point better:

THE UNTOUCHABLES – Not only a well-structured, commercial movie with a top notch cast; it has a midpoint that ticks all three boxes: After a shootout on the Canadian border far away from the crime-ridden streets of Chicago, Eliot Ness and his team find out they can get to Capone through his accountant.

The mid-point sequence happens halfway the movie (ironically, not all midpoints really do), it changes the course of the story (Ness is no longer after Capone but after his accountant) and it takes place in a very different environment/change of scenery from the rest of the movie. And indeed: catching the accountant does get Capone in court. Important for the Inner Journey at this point is Ness’ response to the criticism on the way Malone forces a confession out of one of Capone’s men. When he says “Well, you’re not from Chicago”, it proves Ness is now open to approaching things ‘the Chicago Way’, as taught by his mentor Malone.

JAWS – It’s more than thirty years old and scary as ever, and not because of its state-of-the-art FX. Look closely and you’ll see: that plastic shark is a big joke! This is one piece of brilliant writing. Police Chief Brody (Roy Scheider) has been unsuccessful in trying to stop the shark killings by urging the mayor to close the beaches. When his own son narrowly escapes death, he is forced to change tactics (different direction): he must go and attack the shark in its own habitat. It brings a fresh turn to the movie with a change of scenery and the stakes are heightened because we are now fighting the killer on his own territory. What’s more: the protagonist is under greater jeopardy because he can’t swim. At Brody’s Inner Journey mid point, he is committed to tackle things at the core in stead of dealing with the symptoms. See also my notes at the bottom of the structural overview of Jaws.

ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST – In his book THE SEQUENCE APPROACH, Paul Gulino mentions another function of the midpoint: it gives the protagonist a flavour of the possible outcome of the story (Frank Daniel’s “glimpse of an answer to the Central Dramatic Question“). Here, Nicholson’s character tastes freedom when he takes the patients out on a trip. The reality however is that after this point he learns he may never leave the asylum again. A powerful reversal: rather than proving he’s insane, he now has to try and get out. The scene/sequence of the mad men’s outing is another beautiful example of a change of scenery. At one stage during the edit, director Milos Forman cut the sequence out. About the result he says: “I cut it down television style, under two hours. And you know what was funny? It felt much longer.”

I wouldn’t necessarily call the following movies class examples but I’ll give them any way because their mid-points worked really well for me:

THE PARALLAX VIEW – Bang in the middle of this classic conspiracy thriller, Warren Beatty’s character undergoes a five minute brainwashing. The scene is borderline unbearable and would have probably been cut by today’s studio heads. We undergo the character’s psychological torture first hand while we stare at the seemingly random images, exactly like the protagonist experiences them. After this, Beatty’s character is no longer the curious outsider vs. the mysterious corporation; he is fighting the system from within, which will ultimately lead to his demise.

GIU LA TESTA (A FISTFUL OF DYNAMITE) – Very much like in THE PARALLAX VIEW, we share the point of view of Rod Steiger’s character Juan while he watches what will cause a major change in his personality and in the course of the movie. At the very midpoint in the movie Juan witnesses a lengthy, traumatic shootout with a life-changing effect: from a mindless and merciless robber dreaming of the ultimate big heist he has now become a freedom fighter and finally commits to the cause of his alter-ego Sean (incarnated wonderfully by James Coburn).

THE QUEEN – The Queen is stuck in the lonely hills near Balmoral, her Land Rover having let her down. Without help from anybody she is out of her comfort zone when she notices the deer her grandsons have been stalking, upon her own advice and encouragement. A moment of realisation (with a lot of symbolism) leads to the decision to chase the dear away in an attempt to save its life from the hunters. The parallel with Princess Diana’s end becomes even more apparent when it turns out the deer was shot by a group of hunters after a chase on a neighbouring land (France?). The Queen has witnessed something that has changed her view and we see it externalised in her lukewarm response to the Queen Mother’s statements about the British people in a following scene.

NORTH BY NORTHWEST – The single most memorably scene of this film sits right in the very middle: the famous cropduster scene. Again, an entirely new setting in the movie, with hardly any other characters around. While most of the movie is rather talky, this sequence offers pure visual cinema with minimal sound design, then gradually picking up the pace and finally (literally) exploding in a symphony of action and music. The reversal: Roger Thornhill learns that Eve has betrayed him.

THE INCREDIBLES – Mister Incredible has successfully completed the task he travelled to the Special World for: eliminating the evil robot. Now, for the first time he is about to meet with his employer.

The reversal happens when his mission turns out to have been a setup to get him killed. The employer is effectively his arch-enemy Syndrome and the mid point delivers two major reversals: 1) in stead of staying on the island, he will have to escape 2) in stead of working alone, he’ll have to collaborate with his family.

THE LIVES OF OTHERS – In the first half of this 2007 Oscar winning drama, Captain Wiesler tries to expose the suspected playwright Dreyer to satisfy his superior at the Stasi (the former Eastern German State Security Service). While listening to a phone call, he learns that Dreyers best friend and mentor has committed suicide. Wiesler realises his work is not doing the good he had always believed it would. He is effectively killing people. When Dreyer plays the piano music he received as a gift from his mentor, Wiesler is so moved that he decides to not expose but protect Dreyer from this point on. To my taste, this is one of the most wonderful and moving mid points in cinema in recent years.

In my earlier blog “STRUCTURING THE FACTS” I briefly mention the midpoint reversal in UNITED 97: The passengers learn this is a suicide flight, therefore they have to change their tactics from trying to notify their relatives on the ground to actively fight back the terrorists.

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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It was nominated for seven Academy Awards: Best Picture, Best Actor (Morgan Freeman), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Cinematography, Best Editing, Best Original Score, and Best Sound – but it failed to win a single Oscar.

This film has an interesting structure because of its unusual treatment of the protagonist. The POV character ‘Red’ is not the one with the clearest objective. Andy drives most of the story, although he is not entirely ‘honest’ to the audience. Only at the end of the story we find out about his real agenda.

One might argue that prisoners by definition have a strong desire for freedom. This is not the case for Red. He considers himself ‘an institutional man’ without hope of ever getting out. Despite the lack of a strong outer objective, Red is the character with the strongest transformation.

While the theme of the film is about ‘hope’ and Red’s arc is just about that, there is some sort of a weaker arc for Andy, too. After the death of Tommy and Andy’s two months in the ‘hole’ (a text book example of an Ordeal sequence), Andy has a redemptive moment when he says about his wife “She died. Because of me, the way I am.”

Because of the lack of a clear ‘outer objective’ for either character, the end of Act One is not really signposted. The end of Act Two however is very clear.

Have a look and see how you see the story structure of The Shawshank Redemption. Of course, there is no ‘right way’ of doing this. Depending on which criteria you use, you may have a completely different outcome and I would be very keen to hear about it.

ACT ONE

Sequence A: “Fresh Fish”: New arrivals at Shawshank.

00.00 Andy Dufresne in car with gun.
02.00 D.A. quotes: “See you in hell before I see you in Reno.”
04.30 Eight bullets, two victims. He reloaded.
06.00 Verdict: Two life sentences for Andy.
06.30 Shawshank: Red’s parole hearing: rejected.
07.30 Red: I’m the man who can get anything for you.
09.00 1949: Andy Dufresne arrives. Inmates look on.
10.00 Red bets on Andy, he will crack tonight.
12.00 Norton: Your ass belongs to me. Welcome to SS.
13.30 Shower, clothes, bible. Red has his bet on Andy.
15.30 Lights out. “Fat ass by a nose.” Andy holds up.

Sequence B: Andy takes initiative.

19.00 Lunch: fat man dead. Andy: “What was his name?”
22.30 Shower: Andy taken by The Sisters.
23.30 Andy orders rock hammer. Red: “Grow eyes on back.”
27.30 Rock hammer comes in. “Book delivery for Dufresne.”
28.30 Sisters take him again. “He always fought.”
31.30 Roofing. Andy’s offer Hadley: taxes for three beers each.

ACT TWO

Sequence C: Andy fights to improve conditions

37.00 Playing checkers. Getting to be friends.
38.30 Andy asks for Rita Hayworth. Red: I’ll get her.
40.30 Sisters take Andy in projection room.
43.00 Hadley beats up Bogs. To min. security hospital.
43.30 Rita Hayworth poster for Andy. No charge.
46.00 Norton sizes Andy up; cell checked, bible found.
49.00 Andy library assistant; wants funding.
52.00 Report over lunch; asks for pool table, organise funds.

Sequence D: Brooks and being Institutionalised

53.00 Sends a letter a week for funding; no answers.
54.00 Andy does all tax returns; Red assists.
55.30 Brooks goes crazy; 50ys in jail. Institutionalised.
57.30 Brooks lets Jake free; in halfway house. Bagging job.
61.00 Thinks of going back. Shoot boss? Suicide letter.
62.30 Andy reads letter. Red: “He should’a died in here.”

Sequence D: Hope and how Andy’s efforts start to pay off

63.00 Response to letters: $200 and lots of books donated.
64.30 Andy plays Norton’s record for inmates: 2 weeks in the hole.
68.00 Andy: “a place called hope.” Red: dangerous thing: Brooks.
70.00 Red: 30 years anniversary and parole rejected.
71.00 Andy’s parole rejection present to Red: harmonica.
71.30 Red’s ten years Shawshank present to Andy: Monroe.
73.00 $500 annual payment to library. Extension and music.
75.00 Inside – Out program and shady deals bringing in money.
77.30 Paper leaves a trail. No: Randall Stevens. A phantom.

Sequence E: Tommy offers a sparkle of hope.

80.00 New young Boy Tommy. Andy teaches him.
82.00 Tommy is sick of learning, loses interest and hope.
85.30 Red tells Tommy about Andy, Tommy realises who he is.
86.00 Tommy tells Andy and Red about Andy’s wife’s real killer
88.00 Norton wouldn’t let him go. Andy 1 month in the hole.
90.00 Red: Andy is innocent. 19 years.
90.30 Tommy passed his test: news brought to the hole.
91.30 Norton wants to see Tommy; Hadley shoots him.

Sequence F: Every man’s got a breaking point.

94.00 Norton lies: Tommy shot escaping. Andy refuses further work.
96.00 Another month in the hole.
97.30 “I killed her, Red. Because of me, the way I am.”
98.30 Andy about Mexico. Red: I’m an institutional man now.
101.0 Andy: get busy living or get busy dying.
102.0 Andy: go to Buxton. Something I want you to have.
103.0 Andy asked for a piece of rope for Andy. Breaking point?
103.3 Andy gives Norton three deposits. Norton wants shoes shined.
105.0 In cell: lights out.

ACT THREE

Sequence G: Andy’s Resurrection

105.3 Red: That was the longest night of my life.
106.0 Man missing: Dufresne.
108.3 Red called into cell, questioned by Norton.
109.3 Hole in cell behind Racquel Welch: escaped.
110.0 Andy tunneled through wall in less than 20ys.
111.3 FB of night: shoes, climbing out, 500yds sewers.
115.0 Out. Bank, cashing in. Posts envelope from bank.
116.0 Press: “Corruption and Murder at Shawshank.”
118.3 Police raid on Shawshank. Norton suicides
119.0 Andy driving in convertible.
120.3 Parole board for Red. “I don’t give a shit.” Approved.

Sequence H: Living with Hope

123.0 Out
123.3 In halfway house: “Brooks was here.”
124.0 Bagging. Asking “permission to piss.”
125.0 What to do? Break parole? Go back? Live in fear.
125.3 Fulfill the promise: Red goes to Buxton.
127.0 Finds box with letter: I’ll keep an eye out for you.
132.0 Red travels to Andy. “I hope”.

The Shawshank Redemption – Screenplay (Early draft by Frank Darabont)

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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I am not sure which film this student had in mind as a successful example of non-conventional structure, but I bet you it was PULP FICTION. Ever since 1994, filmmakers have been hoping to get away with it in the same way Tarantino did. In my view PF has done far more damage to the craft of screenwriting than its success will ever justify. The irony is that PULP FICTION is relatively conventional in its structure, just not linear. Check Linda Aronson’s book SCREENWRITING UPDATED.

But all that is completely beside the point. The point is that writers often have this immature attitude. “But my script is different.” Another one that keeps coming back: “Hollywood only makes crap, audiences really don’t want to see that stuff anymore.” This one I only heard today: “It all works in my head, the film experience will be very different from the script!”

Call me conservative but the more I learn about film, the more I am convinced audiences are conditioned by an increasingly structured type of filmmaking. Time and time again I hear people rejecting structure one minute, and raving about highly structured films the next.

Ever since the story of a boy and a princess in space 30 years ago, audiences – whether you like it or not – have been conditioned by a more sophisticated version of the 3-act structure, i.e. the Hero’s Journey. And this process has only been reinforced since that paradigm was written down by Christopher Vogler. (I almost called The Hero’s Journey ‘a structure’ but it was never really intended to be. Yet it can often be elegantly blended with the three act structure.)

LEARN THE RULES, THEN BREAK THE RULES

Despite my endless complaints about Australian writers, I have had the pleasure and honour of meeting and working with dozens of writers who are dedicated to learning the craft. They read, study, analyse, attend seminars etc.

Most of them learn with the intention of later applying what they have learned. Others take the basics on board and explore ways of being original and creative within the boundaries. Yet others fully intend to knowingly break the rules with their first screenplay.

Now that may be unwise.

The statement above reading “Learn the Rules, then Break the Rules” is in my view a dangerous one. I would rather replace it with something like:

“Master the Rules, then Bend Them.”

It often happens that screenwriters only get their first screenplay made after years of learning the craft. When the film finally hits the screen, they realises that although they believed they had learned the skills, they hadn’t. An audience is a funny thing. You want them to feel this way, but they respond that way.

As a writer you won’t know if you actually master the craft until the film goes out and is successful. Believing that you can learn the rules and break them with your first script, is a dangerous illusion.

Of course every year there will be at least one success story of a breakthrough screenplay that didn’t apply the principles. Everybody will write and talk about that one person. Bottomline: if you are in this game for the long term, it pays to look at the statistics and then review your chances.

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

I am currently working with a client on a screenplay that reminded me in some peripheral way of the French rural drama Jean de Florette, starring Gerard Depardieu and the late Yves Montand*. I watched the film again with my wife and paid attention to its structure.

Although I had seen the film at least twice before, what I found out this time, literally blew me away.

The screenplay was adapted by director Claude Berri and veteran scribe Gerard Brach, from a hugely successful original French classic by Marcel Pagnol. The film had been a breakout arthouse hit across the world, with major prizes in its home country but also in England and the U.S. where it was nominated for a Golden Globe.

My wife and I had seen this film last about ten years ago, yet neither of us remembered much of the plot. We did remember the characters and even individual scenes. Not the plot.

Why??

Because the structure is quite extraordinary.

The whole film is structured following a text-book three-act structure. Inciting incident, first act turning point, second act are all ‘tres formulaic’. But what seemed unusual to me, and the primary reason why I think this film still looked so fresh to us: the story is structured around the antagonist’s journey.

My advise: don’t try this at home. As a beginning screenwriter, make sure you try your hand at convential material before you venture into this type of territory. The screenwriters of Jean de Florette were both highly experienced, with many successes to their names. Unfortunately, although the follow-up to Jean de Florette (Manon des Sources) may have brought a more upbeat closing to the rural saga, the writing was less inspiring.

When you have the chance, do watch both films, analyse these structural exceptions and asks yourself what is different, why this one works and the other doesn’t (so well).

It is always fascinating.

*Nice coincidence: when I was out the following night my wife randomly picked the Marilyn Monroe classic “Let’s make Love” from our DVD shelf and watched it, only to find it had – again – Yves Montand in a major role.

THE WORKSHOPS WORK

More than one week to go until 10 February and the Sydney story workshop is sold out. This weekend I’ll be teaching for the first time in Queensland, at the International Film College. My next Sydney Workshop will be on Sunday 13 April and bookings are open now.

The emphasis of the workshops has shifted slightly. The first sessions were heavily theoretical, focusing on aspects of the 3-act structure. Lately I have shifted towards more practical examples from a wider diversity of films, both old and recent, across completely different genres: from action movie to comedy, from Touch of Evil (1958) and Die Hard (1988) to The Incredibles (2004) and The Lives of Others (2006).

Some people find that the material taught in these classes is advanced. Let me tell you this: it is not. It represents the bare essentials. It is the absolute minimum you need to know if you want to even consider breaking into the scene. That doesn’t mean that it will sink in the first time around. You will still need to watch films, analyse them and apply what you have learned to your own work.

Next, you will need to call in the assistance from a professional. But you will be so much better prepared to enter into a dialogue about your work if you have laid the foundations by learning the terminology. Not only will it speed up your development, it will potentially save you hundreds or thousands of dollars as your script editor will talk to you about your script on your level.

THE PREMIUM EDITION

The Premium Edition has had visitors from New York to the country of Jean de Florette (Provence, South of France), from Australia’s East and West Coasts to the City Library of Amsterdam. Meanwhile, the first paying subscribers have signed up, from Australia and overseas!

Eight users are online while I am writing this, of which no less than seven guests and a few search engine spiders. Check it out for yourself by subscribing for a year at only the cost of one cappuccino a fortnight.

Among the newly added content, Premium Members now have also access to a list of mistakes I have come across in screenplays lately, as well as a few suggestions on how to avoid them.

In the coming days and weeks new articles will be added and I will be conducting an interview with Michael Hauge (who is coming to Australia this May) and will talk about the dangers of mystery.

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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Inside the Plot Point lies the Meaning of Drama.

It’s about cause and effect, it’s about what a character DOES because of what it WANTS, it’s about the necessary action following an external trigger event. It is about what the character MUST do because of who he/she is.

Like the scorpion and the frog.

Syd Field launched the concept of ‘Plot Point’ in:

The PLOT POINT is an incident, or event, that “hooks” into the action and spins it around into another direction.

I must say I don’t find this definition particularly helpful. The outcome of a plot point is indeed a change of direction. But I would like to see ACTION included in some way into the definition. Linda Seger does this. She even calls it ‘Action Point’:

An action point is a dramatic event that causes a reaction. Usually this reaction causes another action. Since this action is dramatic and visual (not expressed through dialogue), it pushes the story forward.

Robert McKee introduces conflict into the plot point. The change of ‘direction’ becomes a change of ‘values’ and he calls them ‘Story Events’:

A Story Event creates meaningful change in the life situation of a character that is expressed and experienced in terms of a value and ACHIEVED THROUGH CONFLICT.

Because I have seen numerous failed movies, full of ‘events’ but without any resulting action from the protagonist, I strongly believe the following:

A plot point necessarily consists of two beats:

1. SOMETHING HAPPENS (THE EVENT)
2. SOMEBODY REACTS (THE ACTION)

To have a plot point, you need both sides of the equation: the external trigger + the action taken by the character. Do you notice how this is also the core structure of any story? The first element represents the Inciting Incident and the second is the First Act Turning Point. Add to this a third element:

3. THE REACTION IS SUCCESSFUL/UNSUCCESSFUL

And you have a skeleton three-act structure.

next: Brainstorming Plot Points (Premium) >>

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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Over thirty minutes into the movie, Redford’s character identifies himself suddenly as the new warden and announces in the same scene he wants to force through some serious reform.

Finally we have a 1st Act Turning Point.

But why was the warden’s identity hidden from the audience all along? Apart from a sudden surprise, it doesn’t add a thing. The use of dramatic irony (i.e.: the audience knows, but the other characters don’t) would have been much more powerful and it would have allowed for the badly needed character development.

Roger Ebert wrote:

“There’s no room for the spontaneity of real human personalities caught in real situations. That’s especially annoying with the character of Brubaker himself, played well but within a frustratingly narrow range by Robert Redford.”

Redford’s performance is rock solid given the material. BRUBAKER’s real problem is its flawed structure: half an hour into the movie, we have run out of screentime to sufficiently set up the protagonist’s character and potential internal conflicts. Redford didn’t have anything to work with, which makes Ebert’s comment rather unfair.

What the screenwriters did achieve quite well though, is the setup of antagonists and external obstacles in the way of the protagonist’s objective. Perhaps this explains why the film did work for me.

(originally published 06/05/2006, edited 31/10/2007)

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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What I had read was a great short novel. Brilliant prose, lively detail and sharp dialogue. But the story didn’t work because we would not care for the protagonist. This is a typical mistake: confusing a good script with a good story. Beware of the ‘good read’. Or as my best friend Chris always says: “Armaggedon was a good read too.” In the case of this Australian hopeful, the story was told from a protagonist without any clear objective. Ironically, a character close to the protagonist would have much better fitted that role without the need to significantly change the premise.

The joy of the ‘good read’ is truly a danger and one of many reasons why you don’t rely on friends for script feedback, even if they work in the film industry. I have heard of aspiring screenwriters asking advice from assistant directors, decorators production managers. Although like everybody in our industry, these people SHOULD have a notion, in reality they hardly ever do. (As a matter of fact, a lot of decision-makers don’t have a clue either.I could give you a recent example of a script where even the writer admitted ‘there was no story’. Still he got the money to develop it. Develop what? The novel? I won’t name the example or I would be dead. Fact is that the writer in question ironises about this reality when he says that

“to get your hands on delicious development money you don’t have to have a great script, it only has to be a little ‘better’ than the norm. And if you can do that with no story…good times.”

THE WISE AND THE NOT SO WISE

As somebody who takes the craft very seriously, I’m sometimes frustrated to see how people who should know better send out confusing messages. Now take this quote, which I found on a web site claiming to give story advice and tips to writers:

“As for the content of your screenplay; structure counts, usually. Have a clear Act I, II, and III. Try to hook the reader on the first page! Make the first five (or ten pages at most) be Act I, wherein you introduce all the main characters and show the reader the who, what, where, when and why of your story. Notice that I said SHOW. Telling is not so good. Film is a visual medium and you should actually be writing a FILM, not a script. Act II is the rest of the story, where you build on what you started, and it climaxes at the clear end of Act II. Act III should be five or ten (max) pages, where all loose ends are tied up and all conflicts are resolved.”

I must admit I had never heard of the Ten Minutes First Act. And the second act being “where you build on what you started“. How can you be more vague? You know what is REALLY frightening? The person talking is the director of an internationally renowned film festival. And as for: “structure counts, usually”… The festival director is probably hoping of getting the new KOYAANISQATSI.

Let me counterbalance the nonsense with a solid quote from Chris Vogler, the man behind The Writer’s Journey. This time not about the ‘big structure’ or the Journey Stages but about scenes:

“A scene is a business deal. It may not involve money but it will always involve some change in the contract between characters or in the balance of power. It’s a transaction, in which two or more people enter with one kind of deal between them, and negotiate or battle until a new deal has been cut, at which point the scene should end. It could be the reversal of a power structure. The underdog seizes power by blackmail. Or it could be the forging of a new alliance or enmity. Two people who hated each other make a new deal to work together in a threatening situation. A boy asks a girl out and she accepts or rejects his offer. Two gangsters make an alliance to rub out a rival. A mob forces a sheriff to turn a man over for lynching. The meat of the scene is the negotiation to arrive at the new deal, and when the deal is cut, the scene is over, period. “

THE POWER OF A PARADIGM SHIFT

Years ago a good friend returned from L.A. where he had attended a much hyped screenwriting seminar. The speaker made a point by asking the room who would visualise the scenes while writing. I agreed with my friend’s astonishment when he reported that only half of the writers raised their hands. What were the others thinking? What idiots to believe you can actually write movies without thinking visually???

I have come to fundamentally change my view on this. Did Alan Ball necessarily think visually when he wrote SIX FEET UNDER? Or AMERICAN BEAUTY? The last boasts wonderfully visual scenes but most of the script’s power lies entirely not on its visual level. We do indeed need visible elements to show character subtext, but not necessarily a visual context. Think about CRASH or more recently THE LIVES OF OTHERS. On what level do these movies make an impact?

Whether a movie works or not, is decided on an entirely different, almost abstract and non-visual level. Until a late draft, a screenwriter doesn’t always need to visualise. And you can take this right through to very visual action flicks such as DIE HARD, THE FUGITIVE or even SPIDER-MAN. Visual elements such as setting, time of day, camera angles etc. could have been easily replaced without really changing the story. They might have even worked without the eye candy but they surely wouldn’t have without the character drama underneath.

Recently I was recommended THE SEVEN HABITS OF HIGHLY SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE. Early in the book Stephen Covey speaks about the Paradigm Shift. (Beware: this Paradigm has nothing to do with Syd Field.) It’s about looking at something from a specific angle and (not) seeing what others see. I found this concept very similar to reading text vs. reading subtext. I had been reading screenplays on the surface for years before it most literally ‘clicked’ in my head; it felt as if a ‘sixth sense’ had switched on, as if I was suddenly reading with an infrared eye.

Switching on the understanding of this subtextual level is a skill writers, just like producers or directors, need to develop before they can become successful. It is just as essential as switching on your desk light at night to read.

THE LOGLINE

“A logline is a one-sentence summary of your script. It’s the short blurb in TV guides that tells you what a movie is about and helps you decide if you’re interested in seeing it. It’s the grabber that excites your interest.” (-Scriptologis.Com)

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The logline shouldn’t be confused with the tagline (marketing one-liner for the poster) or even slugline (“EXT. KAREL’S OFFICE – DAY”).

Once I believed you can only write your story’s logline when you have finished your script and even the one page synopsis. Until then, it may not even be clear what the story is about.

Here are a few good reasons why you should start thinking of the logline earlier. First of all: a good logline is a good indication that you have a story. If after a few drafts you still can’t find a logline that captures what your movie is about, you really need to think hard about the story again. Secondly: it will become an essential selling tool for your script. A strong logline will give you the confidence that you have a story: you’ll be able to pitch it with passion! In both senses the logline does pretty much what I promote about the synopsis in my consultancy services: it helps you improve AND sell the story. All that with the economy of one simple sentence.

I am currently working as a consultant on an amazing high concept story with some major story issues. It is always nerve-wrecking having to break the news that to unleash its potential, a story needs to be significantly reworked. But when I found out the writer had already written a logline expressing exactly what I believed the story should deliver, I sighed: we were on the same wavelength.

The moment you find a logline expressing your intentions, you have found an invaluable tool to stay on track. It could be the road map saving you from disaster. If the logline is selling and you stay true to it during the writing of the draft, chances are you will have a selling story.

THE $5 SCRIPT SOFTWARE: ASHAMPOO’S TEXTMAKER:

I recently had a computer scare when it looked my four year old laptop was about to die. That would have been a disaster in a few ways, not the least because I recently bought a – legitimate – OEM version of Office Standard. I lose my laptop, I lose that.

No wonder I was interested when recently I received an offer to an elegant software program called ‘Textmaker’, which does everything I use MS Word for. Only for $4.99 only. And legitimate. If you are looking for a good quality text processor, which is BTW faster than MS Word and whose license won’t expire if your computer dies, have a look here:

https://www.ashampoo.com

I believe the offers on these newsletters remain open for at least 1 purchase per customer.

BEATS VS. TURNING POINTS

While working on a step outline with one of my clients, it bothered me a number of scenes ended in the exact same way: the protagonist would respond to a situation by rejection or reluctance to respond.

None of these scenes really ended in a plot point, there was no hook nor change to the story’s direction. So I didn’t find the scenes’ ending strong enough and almost suggested to cut them altogether. Still, the point the writer was trying to make about the protagonist was a valid one: it gave us important information we would need later in the story.

The solution we came up with: keep the protagonist’s reaction as a scene beat but work towards a stronger scene ending by creating a new plot point for each in order to turn the scene, create anticipation and propel it into the next one. Not an easy task but ultimately better than cutting.

THE QUIZ

As part of a Google Adwords campaign I’ve created a quiz about the craft and – to a lesser extent – history of screenwriting. If one or two questions are a matter of opinion rather than fact, you will find the answers in The Story Dept. Twenty challenges, definitely not for beginners (and neither is this blog, apparently) but essential knowledge for whomever is serious about the craft. Anyway, if you consider yourself an expert, or at least intermediate level writer, you shouldn’t be intimidated. Click through until the very end of the quiz and you’ll land back on the OZZYWOOD web site after seeing all the right answers. Have fun!

https://ozzywood.com/quiz

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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