by Phyllis Foundis

I. Had. A. Ball.

Why? Well, aside from the fact that there were regular displays of honed male muscle (take that as you will, dear readers), it was a thoroughly immersive, enjoyable cinematic experience.

Okay, before the purists tweet up a storm about the supposed script deficiencies, single dimensional characters, blah, blah, wank, I am not, for a millisecond, suggesting Magic Mike is Citizen Kane.

The film’s naked men are unlikely to attract other naked men (of the golden, bare-buttocked variety). Magic Mike simply did what all good movies should do and that is, entertain.

As the scenes unfolded, I turned off the writer inside and got lost in the magic.

Magic Mike simply did what all good movies should do and that is, entertain.

‘Story, schmory, I whispered to myself as yet another set piece assaulted the senses; smiles and sweat, and dance routines that were nothing short of eye-popping – particularly when Mr Tatum showed us he was more than just a ‘cock-rockingly’ good stripper (the film’s description, not mine).

And frankly, when the fuss subsided between one’s loins, the narrative was actually a viable one. Yes, Virginia, there is a story in Magic Mike. A very believable and often touching tale.

Midway through the flick, I managed to unglue my eyes from the screen to look at the audience (female and male) and they were all doing what they were supposed to be doing – watching, unflinching. No sly texting, talking, fidgeting, not even any popcorn nibbling. All eyeballs faced forward.

So it got me wondering… could you improve on this perfect audience response? Surely Mr Soderbergh should have considered the wonders of 3D in the sharing of Mike’s magic?

To 3D or not to 3D

Well this is the $64,000,000 question isn’t it? And for a measured, informed response unfettered by the libidos of horny audience members, we need to take an intimate glimpse inside the 3D argument.

So here goes…

3D cinema has raised the ire of many a filmmaker, critic and fan ever since moviegoers were persuaded to strap on a pair of ill-fitting cardboard frames for the earliest recorded screening of a 3D film,The Power of Love. It premiered in LA (where else) on September 27, 1922 and decades later the technology has exploded and now nearly every movie that has its day in the dark, is in 3D.
But does this trend reflect the stunning technology on offer?

Not now baby, I’ve got a headache. No, really.

At a recent Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas, Reuters interviewed two leading opthalmologists who basically shot down the 3D argument in big, explosive, Hollywood-tastic flames.

Basically, a lot of us are walking around with minor eye problems, for example a muscle imbalance. It’s not a big deal because the brain can deal with this issue naturally. But the minute we subject our eyes to the largely unfamiliar experience that is 3D – our eyes have to work harder, which means our brains have to work harder which translates into one big, fat headache, folks.

In fact, a recently published article in Consumer Reports claims that 15% of moviegoers experience headaches and eyestrain during 3D movies.

Essentially, when you’re looking at something in real life, each of your eyes sees it at a slightly different angle. And the perception of depth is created when this image is processed in your brain. But the illusions you see in a 3D movie just aren’t calibrated in the way your brain and eyes are.

Put simply, your eyes weren’t made for 3D! And uber film critic Roger Eber concurs (very loudly on his blog),
“3D doesn’t work with our brains and never will.”
Shots in the dark.

Put simply, your eyes weren’t made for 3D!

You’ve probably already gathered from the tone in this article that I am not a 3D-ophile. What man can do with technology has never really twiddled my proverbials. It’s fun, sure. But will I be buying a 3D TV so I can see Spiderman’s arachnid ass whip past my cheek as he slings over to the next skyscraper on his way to lunch? Er, no.

But aside from the very real physiological reasons why film lovers should steer clear of 3D, there are some hard and fast technical reasons why it’s actually not such a great visual treat.

3D movies are either produced specifically for the format during filming (a’la Gatsby) or converted in post-production. Either way, in order to create the illusions, 3D movies are screened at significantly lower light levels.

Did you know a typical 3D system can lose as much as 80% of the light used to project 2D images up on the silver screen? Basically, the image you see is projected at only two or three foot-lamberts* as opposed to the traditional 2D film system that projects its images at a giant 16 foot lamberts.

Oh Mr Luhrmann, what were you thinking? Thankfully, not all big-shot directors are seduced by 3D. Director, Christopher Nolan refused to make Batman in 3D because of the darkness issue,

Oh Mr Luhrmann, what were you thinking?

“On a technical level, it’s fascinating, but on an experiential level, I find the dimness of the 3D image extremely alienating.”
So instead of creating a closer connection between the audience and the movie it’s having the totally opposite effect.

For the love of Leo’s baby blues, why, Baz, why?

When a filmmaker announces that his next film will be in 3D – I don’t care how big the budget (or his ego) is, it feels like a desperate attempt to force some kind of connection between the audience and the story. You will like this movie, you will connect, you will feel like a part of the action, the love, the horror, the squillion dollar sets I had to sell my first born’s soul to afford.

My counsel to the ticket-buying public is simple… If you want real, in your face life – leave the cinema. Get up out of your seat and go outside. You won’t need to wear cumbersome, plastic glasses to get it, it’s all there in full, you-can-touch-it, colour.

If you want real, in your face life – leave the cinema.

As you know, the next big 3D splash will be Baz Lurhmann’s, Great Gatsby. The movie community and DiCaprio fans at large are eagerly anticipating the release. And needless to say, Lurhmann’s take on Gatsby is bound to be a feast for the senses, it’s part of the man’s genius. Which is why his compulsion to mess with tech bothers me.

Baz can make great movies. Big ones, funny, splashy, larger-than-life, colourful, even small-budget forays (Strictly Ballroom anyone?). So why, oh why, can’t we just enjoy the pleasures of Mr Gatsby’s opulent world without the gimmicks? Aren’t the stupendous displays of wealth, hedonism and Leo’s baby blues enough? I thought they were.

When crotch-clutching doesn’t need a crutch.

The argument against the (literally) dizzying effects of 3D is almost fairytale-like, but rings very, very true…

If the story is gripping enough, you will already be ‘in’ the picture in a pleasurable, altered kind of state; as if you’re floating around in the best lucid dream you’ve ever had. You know it’s a movie, you know it’s fiction, but you’re a willing passenger on the joyride.
In other words, if the movie’s world is engaging enough you’ll enjoy more dimensions than your head and your heart can ever cope with.

How spectacular does that sound?

if the movie’s world is engaging enough you’ll enjoy more dimensions than your head and your heart can ever cope with.

I’m a traditional moviegoer. For me it’s all about the story and more importantly the world this narrative creates. Is it a world I want to spend 90 minutes in? Does it make me feel good, provoke thought, laughter, tears… then, yes, I’m yours, in the dark, without question.

The 3D argument is a long and hairy one. And we’re certainly not going to cover all of it in this modest article. Suffice to say, filmmakers should beware – it’s not the be all and end all of storytelling. Let your stories, your characters, your dialogue (!) do the talking.
If a story is written well, it’s engaging and it should have you at, ‘hello’. You don’t need whiz bang to get more for your movie buck.
Which is a natural segueway back to ol’ Mike and his magic.

If a 3D movie is supposed to bring you closer to the action, immerse you in moments as if it were real life, then Magic Mike is as close to 3D as it’s ever going to get. And it could’ve been because of Mr Soderbergh’s skillful direction, or the raw energy of the script, or the copious flashes of glistening naked flesh. But ultimately, I think the movie did what it said on the tin – it succssfully portrayed the magic of Mike.
So the question still begs…

Would this hip-swivelling extravaganza have blown more minds in 3D?
(Somewhere a worried mother cries,‘You’ll have your eye out with that thing!)

Well, given that 3D images are often dark, small and generally distance you from the action on the screen… Ladies and gentlemen, dear fans of the celluloid artform, male, female and beyond – the answer is an unequivocal, resounding, holler it from the multiplex rooftops…

No.

* The unit of luminance by which screen brightness is measured.

Performer, producer, writer, Phyllis Foundis has written for ad campaigns, books, one-woman shows, online articles, scripts and speeches. In 2004, she performed in her self-penned, one-woman show, the virgin club on London’s West End, the Edinburgh Festival and Melbourne’s International Comedy Festival.
Phyllis has also written coverage for Hugh Jackman’s production company and acted alongside John Waters in Burleigh Smith’s, Ragtime.
She is the host of her own TV chat show, Foundis for Television Sydney (TVS).

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With thanks to Sol. Enjoy!

Karel

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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_______________________________

With thanks to Sol.

Enjoy!

Karel

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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Meanwhile, the Story Dept. has entered its third calendar year, offering workshops, one-on-one consultancy PLUS a Premium Version of this blog, exclusive to clients and
subscribers. The Hero’s Journey continues, the obsession grows.

THE HERO’S SECRET

eXistenZ, named after a fictitious virtual reality video game, was released around the same time as THE MATRIX; the timing having been an excuse for its poor performance. I was surprised to see Roger Ebert’s review not really giving us any critical assessment of the film; all he says is:“eXistenZ’ is likely to appeal especially to computer game players”. He probably means: “It sucked but I don’t know why.”

The film remains original and entertaining but I believe the end holds a crucial mistake as it turns out our heroes have been keeping a secret from us. This goes directly against a key principle of writing for the screen: a protagonist must share with us their knowledge and emotions.

In the Premium Edition (see also below) I will look at a few more examples of heroes who are ruining box office prospects by withholding information or being unreliable for other reasons.
THE WRITER’S SECRET

When I asked one of my most loyal clients for a testimonial, he refused. I was baffled. “Karel,” he said, “if you knew where the gold was buried, would you go and tell everyone?” At first I thought that was a lame excuse, but then I had no reason NOT to believe him. He is a film industry professional who always puts his money where his mouth is. He is continuing our collaboration throughout 2008. But I’m not allowed to tell anybody.

My Unknown Client says about the story theory I’m teaching and applying during my consultancies “it’s the film industry’s best kept secret.” In many ways, he is right. Despite the title of Robert McKee’s bestselling screenwriting manual ‘STORY’, he only dedicates a relatively brief section to the principles of story structure. Many screenwriting manuals do mention the three-act structure but forget to explain why it works and why it is successful. Without a proper foundation, the 3-act structure remains dead theory.

Some people say Australian film schools are gravely deficient in the area of structure and if I am to believe my clients, many AWG script assessors tend to barely brush over it, too. In an article in The Australian last week, Joan Sauers, Billy Stoneking and Duncan Thompson blamed Australian scripts. Again. And again they forgot to mention what William Goldman said: “Story is structure”

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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Have you noticed the almost unnerving consensus that this is great movie? The SMH gave it 9/10 in yesterday’s paper, Roger Ebert hands out four stars, on IMDb it scores 7.8/10.

Who believes that the sheer magnitude of the events guaranteed the movie would work, should check out the TV dud “FLIGHT 93” and think again. I believe here’s a hell of a great script at work.

I watched Paul Greengrass’ movie last weekend and was truly impressed. When I had recovered from the emotional rollercoaster ride, something quite unexpected dawned upon me: this story boasts an amazingly conventional structure.

If you go with me that the protagonist in this movie is made up from the collective passengers of the flight, you’ll agree the film reflects the following 3-act structure:

– ACT ONE: Boarding until cruise altitude; hijackers take control.
– ACT TWO/A: Passengers try to notify the ground.
– REVERSAL: News of the WTC attacks – this is a suicide flight.
– ACT TWO/B: Passengers prepare to fight back.
– ACT THREE: Attack on the cockpit and crash.

An important subplot dominates the first half of the movie and intertwines with the First Act: Ben Sliney’s struggle at the FAA to stay in control of the US air space. Here I’d like to refer to my very first post and my structural note on SCHINDLER’S LIST and THE INSIDER. Both movies start with a major subplot, in the case of THE INSIDER possibly even a second protagonist. Once we’re in the Second Act of the subplot, the main story kicks in. Same here: we’re well into Ben Sliney’s Second Act before the action on board United 93 starts.

For all above reasons – and I know this one is hard to prove – I believe the movie would have worked fine for anybody completely unfamiliar with the 9/11 events. While we sit through the relatively uneventful First Act (if you don’t know what’s coming up), we empathise with Ben Sliney whose air traffic controllers are steadily losing control.

You may argue that this structure is a mere reflection of the facts. Don’t forget filmmakers have always made their own choices about how and which events are presented over the course of the available screentime.

With this subject matter I initially didn”t believe Greengrass really HAD to be this rigorous in his structuring for the movie to have an adequate effect. Still he did. Why? To create maximum empathy with the protagonists. And boy it pays off!

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.

Subscribe to our YouTube Channel!

Jim Mercurio makes the following point about Gaghan’s comments in the notorious CS podcast: “Gaghan’s comments are showing that he is evolving from a screenwriter into a filmmaker. “

With ‘filmmaker’, he undoubtedly means ‘director’ and with his quote he hits the nail on the head. However, Mercurio makes it sound as if this is a natural evolution, when he goes on to explain how his own latest script too is told with transitions. All of a sudden Gaghan is fashionable, and screenwriters are re-inventing Tolstoy. Now let’s not forget the following facts:

1. Tolstoy was a novelist
2. Gaghan is NOT a meanstream screenwriter
3. Transitions do not stand in the way of proper story structuring

What everybody seems to be missing in this discussion is that transitions play on a shot level, or at best on a scene level. Story structure goes way beyond that. Whatever Mercurio may think, a screenplay written solely from transitions will most likely end up in the same tiny niche market as KOYAANISQATSI.

DVD: THE MANN SPEAKS

The same day I stumbled on the discussion above, I heard writer/director Michael Mann’s commentary on the Restored Director’s Cut of MANHUNTER.

Mann’s comments focus mainly on the parallel psychology of the serial murderer and the cop, besides a few killer anecdotes about production nightmares. My favourite: the airplane scene with the little girl freaking out over Will Graham’s bloody crime scene photos. The only way to shoot this was to book the entire film crew on a United Airlines flight from Chicago to Orlando without informing the airline of their plans, keeping all equipment as hand luggage. Mid flight suddenly these hundred or so people got out of their seats and started filming. No need to say that Mann could kiss his United air miles goodbye.

But let’s skip to the last few minutes of the commentary in which Michael Mann summarises his approach to filmmaking. “Film is made in the editing room. In the writing and in the director’s preparation you’re planning what you’re gonna do in the editing room.” He then refers to the Russian theory of montage from the 1920’s, which was followed by the Brits in the next decade (and used later to great commercial success by Alfred Hitchcock a.o.).

I don’t want to get too theoretical here, but anybody with a real interest in the effect of montage, should really do some reading on Lev Kuleshov and what is still known as the Kuleshov Effect. Using this, I could easily build a case to prove that transitions are structure. I’ll spare you that one for now. But isn’t it remarkable that seventy years apart, two Russians were telling the world about transitions in their respective art forms?

To conclude: Mercurio is right when he says that Gaghan writes like a filmmaker. Like Michael Mann, he is already thinking of what he will do in the editing room and therefore writes his story from scene transitions rather than starting from an overall dramatic arc. This approach to script writing is indeed in many ways similar to that of Hitchcock or Mann but I am sure those last two went through far less drafts than Gaghan.

BTW: Don’t rush out to get Manhunter from HMV or Amazon.com: unfortunately Mann’s commentary only features on a rare DVD which has been out of print for a while, which limits your options largely to eBay. But as a bonus from OZZYWOOD, you can download the last four minutes of Michael Mann’s director’s commentary here.

LOOSE ENDS: The First Act Monolith

Recently I watched BRUBAKER, not knowing anything about this 1980 drama directed by Stuart Rosenberg. If you haven’t seen the film but are planning to do so in the near future, don’t read on as I will spoil the pleasure (and surprise).

The film strays from the traditional structure mainly because of its offbeat First Act. For the life of me, I could not detect an Inciting Incident, nor any significant protagonist characterisation. Instead we witness from Robert Redford’s detainee character’s POV how the most appalling injustice and brutality is inflicted relentlessly upon the inmates.

Over thirty minutes into the movie, Redford’s character identifies himself as the new warden and announces in the same scene that he wants to force through some serious reform. Finally we have our 1st Act Turning Point. I am still trying to understand why the warden’s identity was kept 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.

Leading US critic Roger Ebert wrote about this film: “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.

It still beats me though why BRUBAKER was nominated for Best Screenplay back in 1980. Perhaps it was a fluke. In my view, this theory gains strength when we look at co-writer W.D. Richter’s latest work: STEALTH…

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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