dialogue – The Story Department

Scene Structure With Aaron And Gust

Karel FG Segers — Sun, 24 Jul 2016 07:54:58 +0000

Yesterday I told you about where the master learned his craft. Today we’ll learn about scene structure from my favourite Sorkin scene. And you’ll be surprised, as you may have missed it.

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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Aaron Sorkin Master Class: Do It! [not for the reason you think]

Karel FG Segers — Fri, 22 Jul 2016 14:01:28 +0000

If I see the face of Aaron Sorkin one more time in my Facebook feed or in a newsletter, I’m going to punch my laptop.

Okay, he is among the most interesting screenwriters alive. In fact, he wrote the one scene I study the most with students in my own screenwriting classes. In exactly three minutes, that scene shows Sorkin’s genius in its dramatic construction, exposition and subtext.

Heck, I love the guy. So let’s make it the Sorkin Weekend on The Story Department – and get it over with. (If you come back tomorrow, I’ll show you that scene.)

So Sorkin is doing this Masterclass.

And you’re dying to part with 90 dollars, because he is going to teach you how to … be Aaron Sorkin.

You won’t be alone forking out the bucks.

How many others do you think? I reckon in the order of 10,000. So once you’ve completed the class, you will write a script following the method he teaches, and you’ll be competing with those other 10,000 who have done the same.

I still think you should do it, for the same reason I told you to spend even more to see McKee.
These guys are the Rolling Stones of Screenwriting. You spend your money, not to become the next great writer, but to have some guilt-free, good quality fun.

Do it. Seriously.

The 5 hours you will be watching and listening to Sorkin, you will have a great time. He is a fascinating character, and his unique style is greatly entertaining. From that perspective, $90 is actually great value. You may even learn a thing or two, but better consider that a bonus. They are probably things you already knew but had forgotten, or things you could have learned elsewhere, for less.

The other reason why you should take the class, is you can brag about it afterwards! You will be at the centre of attention as you share Sorkin’s tricks with your screenwriting friends. And when you send your script to a producer, you can whet their appetite by claiming you learned the skill from Aaron Sorkin!

In hindsight, scrap that last thing.

How Aaron Sorkin Learned His Craft

Why am I cynical about actually learning the craft from the Masterclass?

First, because Sorkin is essentially a brilliant dialogue and scene writer. This is why he broke onto the scene with The West Wing.

Grand story arcs are not his forte. The Social Network was released with amazing timing. Yes, it offered spectacular dialogue, but ultimately delivered on the back of the global Facebook hype, and the star power of Mark Zuckerberg.

Steve Jobs came too late for the hype. It really consisted of only 3 scenes, written completely in the theatrical tradition. It cost $30m to make, and returned barely that from its cumulative worldwide box office. Given that major pictures need to return 2.5 to 3 times their budget to break even, it means it left the studio a huge loss.

And Charlie Wilson’s War was brilliant in my view, but sadly also a commercial flop.

More importantly, you know how Aaron Sorkin learned his craft?

Immersion.

His parents took him to theatre plays from an early age. He was immersed in the world of story, and learned it by osmosis. As a child, he fell in love with the sound of great dialogue, and he is still working to emulate this every day.

Of course all this doesn’t mean you can’t have your fun and do the Masterclass. Go ahead, and spend the $90!

If you think it’s too much money for entertainment, then watch this fabulous, free one-hour masterclass with the man:

If you really want to learn screenwriting the Sorkin way, immerse yourself.

And come back tomorrow for my favourite Sorkin scene, which I’ll play to you – for free.

-Karel Segers

Karel FG Segers

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Preminger’s Laura: In Love With A Score

Karel FG Segers — Mon, 06 Jun 2016 12:03:13 +0000

As a student I lived only a 25min train trip away from the Brussels “Cinematek”, once hailed by Martin Scorsese as the world’s best cinema repository. Among the half dozen classics screened daily, Otto Preminger’s Laura would pop up at least once a year. I watched it; and I loved it.

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

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

Karel FG Segers

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Better Dialogue For Screenplays – John August Pt 4 – [Video]

Jamie Wynen — Wed, 31 Dec 2014 03:19:34 +0000

Working on a rewrite? At a loss as to how to go about it? Successful Hollywood screenwriter John August (Big Fish, Frankenweenie, The Nines) shows us how to write stronger dialogue by examining what belongs in conversation versus what belongs in the action, how to create authentic relationships, and dozens of other little tips and tricks.

[vimeo 14435922 w=500 h=281]

Writing better dialogue from John August on Vimeo.

If you liked this, check out more videos about screenwriting or filmmaking. And if you know of a great video on Screenwriting, let us know in the comments. Thanks!

Best of the Web 15 Jun

Jamie Campbell — Sat, 14 Jun 2014 23:33:40 +0000

Story & Structure

:: The Complete ‘The Dialogue Series’
:: Your Opening Scene Better Be Awesome
:: Movie Analysis: ‘Edge of Tomorrow’

Script Perfection

:: How to Take the Terror Out of Writing
:: James Cameron Talks Writing Three Avatar Sequels Simultaneously
:: Writers’ Rooms Vs. Solo Scribes: Where Does TV Creativity Flourish Best?

Pitching & Selling

:: ‘Edge of Tomorrow’ is the Kind of Sharp Action Film We Need
:: Employers Should Pay Their Interns. Here’s Why

Best of the Rest

:: ‘Edge of Tomorrow’s Doug Liman on the Blockbuster That Almost Broke Him
:: I Am A Straight White Man And I Want More Women In My Games
:: FX’s ‘Tyrant’: The Dramatic Backstory
_______________________________

With thanks to Cameron Pattison.

Jamie Campbell

Jamie Campbell is an author, screenwriter, and television addict.

Jamie is proud to be an Editor for The Story Department.

Her latest series Project Integrate is out now.

jamiecampbell.com.au

When Readers Don’t Know What Your Characters Are Talking About

Jamie Campbell — Mon, 19 May 2014 23:33:19 +0000

A good story will always be a balance between providing readers necessary information—and keeping them curious by not giving them all the info. Nowhere is this more true than in dialogue.

by K.M. Weiland

Make no mistake. This is a tough wire on which to balance. Give readers too much juice, and they’ll not only grow bored, they may also feel as if you are dumping info on them or condescending to them from your toplofty summit of superior knowledge. But give them too little info, and they’ll not only suffer confusion, they may still end up resenting you for condescension.

How does that work anyway? How can you condescend to readers by not dumping info or flaunting your knowledge? This is where we run right smack into the problem of exclusive dialogue.

What is exclusive dialogue?

Think of exclusive dialogue as an inside joke. You and your characters know what’s being talked about—but your poor readers are left out in the cold. In the First Five Pages, agent Noah Lukeman uses the analogy of the odd man out at a party:

iA good example of exclusive dialogue: you feel shut out as a reader, as if you’ve crashed someone’s private party and no one has any intention of filling you in. Note the plethora of cryptic and personal references, the clipped speech. This type of dialogue is sure to make the reader angry, [since] it seems as if the writer is blatantly disregarding him.

Most of us have probably found ourselves in a real-life situation like that. We stand there, grinning bravely, nodding along, trying to project an understanding of what the other people are conversing about. Meanwhile, they go right on talking over our heads, making no effort to include our obviously willing selves in their conversation.

Can you say awkward?

That’s how your readers feel when you let your characters ramble on in enigmatic sentences that hint at something juicy and interesting without including the reader.

Think of exclusive dialogue as an inside joke.

An example of exclusive dialogue

“Did you get the thing—the you know?” “Yeah, I got it.” “How’s it look?” “Oh, you know.”

Did you get any of that? Does it make you want to read on—or does it just annoy you? If readers are left dangling like this, without any further context, they’re going to feel as if you’re taunting them with what you know and they don’t.

Does exclusive dialogue ever work?

Occasionally, you can get away with using cryptic dialogue as a hook, such as Trinity’s conversation with Cypher at the beginning of The Matrix or the phone call overhead by Barbara Stanwyck’s bed-ridden character in Sorry, Wrong Number. But these instances must always be used with care. You rarely want POV characters knowing something your readers don’t. Instead, you want to create an intimacy between your readers and your character, in order to heighten your readers’ vicarious experience of the story. Exclusive dialogue creates distance between your readers and your character—and makes it that much harder for readers to identify with the story or suspend their disbelief.

The best use of exclusive dialogue will always be instances in which your POV character is just as clueless as your reader. In these instances, the mystery of the dialogue becomes a focus within the plot—instead of just a cheap gimmick to try to hook the readers’ curiosity.

They’re going to feel as if you’re taunting them with what you know and they don’t.

How can you remedy exclusive dialogue?

The answer to this one is easy: make the dialogue inclusive. Instead of writing dialogue that is purposefully vague or obscure, spell things out. Specificity will almost always bring more power—and more reader curiosity—than will vague rumblings anyway. You want readers to be curious enough to ask specific questions. In order for them to do that, they first have to be given enough specific facts to allow them to frame those questions.

We might rewrite our original example like this:

“Did you get the puppy for Jamie?” “Yeah, I got him a mastiff.” “How’s it look?” “Like I should have gotten him a Pomeranian instead.”

Before, we had no idea what the characters were talking about, who they were, what they were up to, or why we should care. Now, we have enough specific facts to understand exactly what’s going on. Now, we can actually participate in the story, instead of just looking on as an outsider.

-K.M. Weiland