The feature length follow-up to the 2004 Academy Award Best Animated Short Film winner HARVEY KRUMPET, MARY & MAX opened Sundance earlier this year.

M. Rodriguez spoke with writer-director Adam Elliot and producer Melanie Coombs about the writing process, festival fun and the move from short to long form claymation.

Interview by M. Rodriguez
Editor: Cleo Mees

TSD: I’m curious about your writing process – do you storyboard? Because I understand that a lot of animators prefer to storyboard and then write a script.

AE: No, I’m the other way round. I’m obsessed with the script. A lot of writers start with the three act structure and the plot, and then add detail. I start with the detail, and hopefully there will be a plot by the second draft. I start by thinking, “I want to have snails in this film – how am I gonna get snails in there?” So I have all these ingredients to thread together and that takes time.

I use a lot of adjectives in my scripts. I read other short film scripts and think to myself, where are the adjectives? “The man walked through the door…” That’s boring! How about, “The man with the long grey beard walked through the broken door”? I probably overuse adjectives. I don’t like to leave things out, I like the script to be as jam-packed as possible.

TSD: Why did you write your own script and not choose to work with a collaborator?

AE: I’m just too selfish. Even collaborating with animators and cinematographers, I found it difficult. We had script assessors and Melanie’s the script editor. But I think it’s the one part of the process where you have absolute control. Once we got into the studio I had to learn to collaborate and give away a bit more. And writing the script is the part I enjoy the most.

“A lot of writers start with the three act structure and the plot, and then add detail. I start with the detail, and hopefully there will be a plot by the second draft.”

TSD: Is there any difference in writing a script for claymation?

AE: No, when I write the script I imagine the characters as real. I think that keeps the characters more authentic. Some animators start with a drawing, whereas I’ll think of my pen friend, who the film is based on. If Disney are at one end, I’m at the other [end of animation productions]. There are no magic fairies in my scripts. It’s all about trying to create characters in a real, grounded world that we all identify with.

TSD: Do you describe how the characters would react and what their expressions are in the script?

AE: More so in the storyboards – where I do a lot of facial expressions. The storyboard is an elaboration of the script, but that’s more for the camera department and the animators. And it’s also a way to think up visual humour.

TSD: How did you enjoy yourself at Sundance?

AE: (Laughing) You don’t enjoy yourself at Sundance. It would have been more enjoyable has we gone as short-filmmakers or as people just going to see films – or even as filmmakers whose film wasn’t opening night. It was so much hype, so much expectation!

My job as director was to tell people, “It’s just a film. It has flaws.” And because it was cold outside [the theatre] everyone was packed inside. Everyone had had way too many coffees, and people were worrying about who would buy the film… The whole experience was just so intense!

The part I did enjoy about Sundance was the question-and-answer sessions after the screenings. Because I knew then that, even though we didn’t make all the reviewers and all the critics happy, we’d made the most important people happy – the audience. We knew that at least in America, or at least in Mormon country, we’d got a positive response.

MC: It was absolutely extraordinary! To think that we’re Australians, and that in its 25th year… Sundance is the touchstone festival for independent filmmakers around the world.

As a short film and documentary filmmaker, you’re always struggling to get noticed. But here, coming out of your party on the opening night and already finding a review that someone has posted at 2 a.m. is just like, “Whoa, we’re in a different world now.” I think we didn’t get nervous because it all felt so surreal.

“I think it’s your job as a director to be engaging and to really push the boundaries. My aim with Mary and Max was to create a lead character that you would never have seen anywhere else.”

TSD: This is a melancholic story about loneliness and acceptance with human simplicity and humour in your dialogues. How do you get that down on paper?

AE: In all my films, I try to get the balance between humour and pathos, and to get the right rhythm of storytelling – you know, having a bleak moment and then a comic moment without the audience getting distracted. And it’s really just an intuitive thing – writing, rewriting, reviewing and getting feedback.

The example I always use is my short film, Cousin. There’s a static shot where Cousin is standing in a picture frame with his mum and dad, and we hear that his parents have been killed in a car accident. At the same time, Cousin is wearing a t-shirt that says, “I Yodel for Jesus”. Audiences never know what to do with that moment, because they see the t-shirt and want to laugh, but they’re also hearing that information. You know, it’s like they’ve been belted over the head twice. But it keeps them awake, engaged, and it challenges them.

I think it’s your job as a director to be engaging and to really push the boundaries. My aim with Mary and Max was to create a lead character that you would never have seen anywhere else. Parts of him you’ve seen in other characters, but not as a whole. The same goes for Cousin, although Asperger’s is in a lot of films now and autism is in a lot of documentaries. It’s out there, and that‘s great because it means that people are being educated about the phenomenon.

MC: Adam’s storytelling style is the voice of an innocent in a complicated world. It’s not naïve. It’s like when you see a kid on a bus that suddenly screams to his mum, “Mum, mum! Why’s that man only got one leg?” The kid doesn’t know that’s rude. He’s just saying it because it’s true.

I first met Adam when I saw Cousin. After the film I went up to him said, “That’s the best film I’ve ever seen about a disability.” It was only a four minute animation, but it was just so honest. It wasn’t politically correct in that mean spirited way. It was like, that’s right, he does have a funny arm that moves up and down. People with cerebral palsy just have that sort of thing, and to not say those things is also incorrect.

TSD: I also noticed you’ve really exuded that irreverent Australian humour in the film…

AE: Yeah, the self-deprecating thing – which is something I think Americans struggled with in the film. What did they say? “Too many scatological references.” And they’re right, there are too many poo-gags. They’re for the kids… [laughs] No, but it is being irreverent and trying, again, to push the boundaries. My dad was an acrobatic clown, and he always said, “Don’t get carried away with being too serious in your films. There’s nothing wrong with being an entertainer.”

MC: The thing about America is that they don’t have the history of Wallace and Gromit, so they associate claymation with a pre-school, Bob-the-Builder kind of thing. So, for them to see Asperger’s syndrome, and references to prostitutes and homeless people and drugs and alcohol and attempted suicide, and homosexuality [in the film] – all the phobias… Well, it actually reminds me of a comment we got when we took Harvie Krumpet to L.A.

“The animation community is very open – we share our secrets – and these cameras had only just come out, so we were the guinea-pigs, basically.”

At one of the studios’ Q&A sessions, a woman put up her hand and asked, “Who let you make that [film]??” I loved that comment! It was just so American. I mean, she clearly loved the film but she must have been thinking, “I love this, but how on earth did it happen?” The heart towards independent filmmaking is different in every country, but independent films do not have any government subsidy (in the U.S.), and the idea that you can make a film purely for cultural reasons and get government support for it is something they think we’re really fortunate to have.

I tried to explain to them how difficult it is – that it’s really competitive and only 25 films get made a year [in Australia], and so on – and they sort of understand that, but the idea that we could put every phobia that Adam wanted in the script without someone telling us, “Oh, you can’t say that!” is still something they’d say we’re very fortunate.

TSD: I hear you got Aardman’s attention, and they came to visit you on set?

AE: Yeah, they sent a technician over because they’re about to go fully digital. They’re not going to use their film cameras anymore – so we’re told, and they just wanted to look at our system because there weren’t any other feature films being done in the same way. Our post-producer, Henry Karjalainen set up the system himself so that we got very high production values at a fraction of the cost. And they were fascinated as to how we did this! We were using local software from people down in Melbourne. Because most of the money was state-government money [Victoria], we were under a mandate to do things as locally as possible. The animation community is very open – we share our secrets – and these cameras had only just come out, so we were the guinea-pigs, basically. They wanted to see whether we’d died [filming] or not.

TSD: How do you feel that the process has changed since creating your first film, Uncle, and now that you’re doing it digitally?

AE: I don’t’ animate anymore, but our animators on Mary and Max said they found it liberating. They could see everything in high definition; they didn’t have to wait for their rushes to come back from the lab – they could see it within minutes of it being finished. So, suddenly they could do things that they never were able to do before. And that’s great for the whole worldwide animation community.

When I think of my first film, Uncle, which was shot on a little 16mm Bolex camera, it was a very different process. And it’s evolved for the better. When I left film school – I was at the VCA – I was told I was pursuing a “dying art form”.

TSD: But you were pushed to do Uncle as a claymation, right?

AE: Yeah, Uncle was accidental. I was going to do the film as a 2D animation, and there were seven other animators doing 2D films. There was a spare studio and a spare camera, and they said to me, “We think your film would look better as clay.” So I said, “Alright,” and off I went. My dad had a hardware shop at the time, so I got all the cheap wood and nails and glue… not thinking that this is what I would do! I thought I’d do kids TV or kids animation – something where I’d get paid well.

TSD: But you’re happy doing this?

AE: Yeah, some of my friends are 2D animators and I say to them, “How can you sit in front of that screen all day??” I love to get my hands dirty – I love cooking and I love gardening. If I don’t have stuff under my fingernails, I don’t feel alive.

“So I went out and bought a bottle of red wine, then I said to Adam, “Now, we never have to make it – it’s just for these meetings tomorrow, but by the time we finish this bottle of red, we’ve got to have a story.” That night I prodded away at him, until he started, “Well, I’ve got this pen-friend…” And I said, “Gold! Let’s go.”

TSD: Adam, you mentioned earlier that you left the animation to six animators [for Mary and Max]– were you very hands on during the shoot?

AE: No, but I did a lot of approving. I was always the first to arrive at the studio and the last to leave, and I did seven-day weeks for a year and a half, which was exhausting. But I’m a control freak and I have to have absolute control over everything, from a knife and a fork to a giant set. I even did all the character designs. I mean, in hindsight I could have let go of some of that. But because it was my first feature, I didn’t want it to look that different to Harvey Krumpet. I wanted people to look at Max and think, “That looks like an Adam Elliot drawing”. [Laughs] Someone worked out that it would take 225 years for me to make Mary and Max all by myself.

TSD: And how have you seen yourself evolve as a filmmaker, from your first film to your first feature now?

AE: I think it’s only in the last couple of years that I’ve been able to look back at my scripts and see why I’ve done them the way I have, and how they’ve become what they are. I think really good writers are angry writers. And I don’t like injustice. In the school playground I was always the one befriending the bullied kids – the kids that had autism or that were racially ridiculed, that didn’t have many friends. I wanted to learn more about them, and I wanted to defend them. So I think what I’m trying to do now with my films is to fight on their behalf – and entertain at the same time – without being preachy or too dogmatic. And I think audiences appreciate it.

MC: To me, all of Adam’s work is about accepting difference. The important thing his work says is that being open to difference is hard, but it’s ultimately totally rewarding. It’s what makes life worth living. And everyone, no matter how revoltingly different we all are or feel, craves love and acceptance.

Also, so often in life now, you’re being told to privilege either financial success or a romantic relationship. What about friendship? When your lover leaves you, who do you call? This film is really about the power of friendship in our lives and how important it is for us all.

TSD: Melanie, how did you get Adam to sit down after Harvie Krumpet winning that Oscar and write a feature? Because I know after Harvie, Adam was hoping to make a television series…

MC: Well, the studios actually said no to that idea. The way things work in the US is that they plan everything for you, you can’t do much yourself. After Harvie, our US agents said to us, “We’ve got all these studios lined up for you to meet. What are you going to pitch?” We said that we were thinking of a 13×5 minute series. To which they said “No, no, no! You’ve got to have a feature idea. Just come up with one just to meet these people.”

So I went out and bought a bottle of red wine, then I said to Adam, “Now, we never have to make it – it’s just for these meetings tomorrow, but by the time we finish this bottle of red, we’ve got to have a story.” That night I prodded away at him, until he started, “Well, I’ve got this pen-friend…” And I said, “Gold! Let’s go.” So we based it on his real relationship, except we made Adam – Mary, an eight-year-old girl to add a fictional element to it.

TSD: Well that was easy, I thought it would be hard because you said Harvie took you all over the world and you got so many different offers…

MC: Well, it was only because I literally told Adam, “I promise you we never have to make it.”

The studios didn’t really want us to make the film at first. What they would really like Adam to do is a children’s film. Which wouldn’t really be an Adam film, it would be a kiddie claymation. And that’s not why we’re filmmakers. We’ll probably never be super-rich, but we’re filmmakers because we genuinely believe in the passioned project of being Australian storytellers, and in the project of an Australian cultural life.

TSD: What do you do in your free time? I know you are passionate about meeting children or people who have disabilities. Do you get involved in these communities?

AE: After the Oscar win, many charities asked me to become associated with them, but I quickly learned that it’s best to focus on just one charity. I was approached by the Disabled Film Festival – I don’t use the word “disabled” a lot but that’s what they choose to call themselves – and I became their patron. I raise awareness about their festivals and their films, and I also get to meet some amazing filmmakers.

I don’t have a lot of spare time – but I enjoy cooking, and I’d love to spend some time drawing again. You just become a slave to your film. Mary and Max has been like we’ve just given birth and I’ve got a bit of post-natal depression. I’m about to go on my first two-week holiday in three years, but after that we’ve got Berlin and all this other publicity events. You’ve got to sell the film, of course, and it’s a tough film to sell. Melanie often says that with this type of subject matter is not easy, but it is ultimately rewarding if you stick with it.

MARY & MAX opens in Australia on 9 April.

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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REPLICANTS, SCREENWRITERS AND DOGSWhen last year the restored BLADE RUNNER screened in Sydney in all its 4k digital splendour, I was present at the Cremorne Orpheum, on the hunt for story weaknesses. It didn’t take me long. After fifteen minutes and thirty seconds, I put the scalpel aside and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the film, i.e. Act Two and Three. (For Premium Subscribers, my brief analysis is here.)

This year the Coen brothers snatched the top Oscars despite issues with the ending of NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN. I won’t add to that discussion but if you would like to read some incisive thoughts, check out this article on the Mystery Man on Film blog.

Long before the Coen brothers won their first Oscar with FARGO, they had established themselves as favourites of the Cannes film festival with a Golden Palm for BARTON FINK. I have watched it a few times since and I still enjoy its Faustian slant, the flamboyant performances of Michael Lerner and John Goodman and the wonderful production design.

Why could BARTON FINK never appeal to a mainstream audience? It is about a screenwriter. But more importantly, the end of Act One makes a promise, then Act Two doesn’t deliver. Variety wrote at the time:

“After a little more than an hour, the pic is thrown in a wholly unexpected direction. There is a shocking murder, the presence of a mysterious box in Fink’s room, the revelation of another’s character’s sinister true identity, three more killings, a truly weird hotel fire and the humiliation of the writer after he believes he’s finally turned out a fine script.”

In essence there is nothing wrong with ‘a wholly unexpected direction’ but the problem is: no new promise is made. What do I mean by that?

The end of act one shows us what the protagonist’s objective is: Fink wants to write a screenplay. It promises a clear direction for the film. Once the murder is introduced, Fink doesn’t really have a clear objective and the story suffers from that. The film as a whole survives because of the exquisitely funny references to the real world of Hollywood in the 1940’s, the sensational performances, the amazing sound design etc.

Recently somebody mentioned WAG THE DOG (1997) to me, written by Hilary Henkin and David Mamet. In my memory, this movie was a hilarious touch of genius. Upon re-viewing, I was dumbfounded as not much of the exhilaration from ten years ago had survived for me.

Again, problemo numero uno: Hollywood behind the scenes. No matter how important we believe the workings of Hollywood are, no-one cares.

Secondly: no matter how clever, genuinely funny and genuinely TRUE the premise – don’t trust your president when he goes to war, the story is preaching to the converted. I don’t believe one single vote was gained or lost because of this film.

The core problems with this film lie on a pure story level. It seems Robert De Niro is the protagonist, his objective: fix a potential presidential scandal. Then we shift to Dustin Hoffman. His objective: stage a war. Soon, however, it appears neither are really facing any seemingly unsurmountable obstacles. Problems are solved as quickly as they arise.

Ultimately the film industry outsider is left with a self-indulgent, unsatisfying and uninvolving story. Mamet’s dialogue is brilliant but this is not the type of film I can watch more than once without an element of disappointment.

Whatever I may say about WAG THE DOG, the fans will rightfully point at the film’s respectable BO figures. Oh well. Star-power saved the dog.

PAGE RANK FOUR!

The Story Dept.’s Page Rank has gone up a full notch and I’m now in the company of such excellent PR4 blogs as The Unknown Screenwriter and the above mentioned Mystery Man on Film.

If you have the Google Tool Bar installed, you can see a white/green strip indicating the PageRank of the page you are visiting. It is usually located in the top middle of your page, under the address bar.

Last year, the world of SEO was turned on its head when millions of web sites saw their Page Rank drop. OZZYWOOD Films was one of the victims, sliding from a respectable Rank 4 to an okay 3.

In all fairness and humility, this web site may be on par for PR with Mystery Man and UNK, but no need to say yours truly will have a long way to go to deserve equal status with these boys.


THE LAW OF DIMINISHING RETURNS

Your second draft is the easiest of all. Why? Because the first draft is so bad each problem sticks out like a sore thumb. It is full of great ideas, but the execution stinks. To your editor/consultant it will be instantly obvious what needs fixing first. Hence, improving your story massively, immediately is actually a breeze.

On the other hand: the final draft is the hardest. Almost everything is as almost good as you can get it. Still, those few minor details that need fixing, jeopardise the entire rest of the script. Not only is it technically challenging, you aren’t quite sure which one is the right move. You can’t see the wood for the trees any longer.

Worst of all: after a long development you are so worn out you may be sick of this script and want to move on. You will need all the support and encouragement you can get, from your producer, your editor, your mum and dad (or wife and kids).

To move from draft one to two, it really takes only basic to intermediate skills. To move from draft eleven to twelve, it takes tremendous craftsmanship, talent and arduous persistence. Early on you will get heaps of great tips and advice from your story/script editor; towards the final draft more and more decisions will be yours: here is where your instinct comes into play.The comforting factor: it is often no longer a matter of working or not working, but of good or great. At this stage, you might have also shown the script to a few industry people, who should be encouraging you to run the last mile.

NEXT POST

With Michael Hauge’s Australia tour in May, I’ll be publishing a podcast and interview transcription, in conjunction with Inscription.

Also:
– Movie structure breakdowns (Premium)
– RATATOUILLE’s deleted scene
– Why the ‘3 Act 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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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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From the answers I have compiled the list below, together with ten common problems from my own experience. These are not just issues with scripts of my clients, but problems occurring in many – if not most – screenplays sent to me for financing and/or production.

Script Editors’ Top Ten:

– long descriptions
– lack of practical insight
– too many characters
– too many subplots
– over-writing
– passive protagonist
– weak antagonist
– not enough obstacles
– absence of logic
– breach of genre rules

Karel’s Top Ten:

– weak protagonist
– lack of conflict
– lack of subtext
– lack of turning points
– shifting point of view
– on-the-nose dialogue
– too clever dialogue
– direction from the page
– lengthy scenes
– bad use of parentheses

Half of my list I consider structural problems. They are issues to be addressed during the story development, i.e. before you even write your screenplay draft.

If you are about to write a draft or have just written one, you might want to have a look at the screenplay checklist (Premium only) in which I focus on a number of problems that may occur in the writing of the draft.

Screenplay Checklist (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.

Subscribe to our YouTube Channel!

Still you will need to get through the hurdle of the paperwork. Before getting access to tax payer’s money, a rather large amount of boxes needs to be ticked. Still, these application forms are usually not as daunting as they look.

If you have studied the questions in the application and there are still questions left, it often pays to pick up the phone and ask the people in the development department directly.

However, the most important elements of any application package for a new screenplay are the following:

– the screenplay
– the logline and/or one-paragraph synopsis
– the synopsis
– the three-page outline
– the development notes

If you are confident that you have a good story, it is paramount to make sure each of these four is in prime shape. Let’s look at them in further detail.

SCREENPLAY

ALL scripts are read. To my knowledge, this is where the first selection occurs.
This means you the screenplay’s presentation is extremely important. To improve a reader’s experience and keep the focus on the story, your script needs to be as perfect as you can get it. Proper format, no typos, ‘lots of white’ etc.

It is true that if you have a formally deficient screenplay but a rock solid story, you will ultimately find the money. If you have a dead-boring story written in a perfect, super polished screenplay, no-one will care. Still, your script may be eliminated from a funding round just because it looks un-professional.

The external reader in charge of making the first selection may decide that if you are not disciplined to even get something as simple as the format right, you are not serious about screenwriting in the first place.

LOGLINE

It tells in only a few words what your story is about. Twenty-five-words-or-less, ideally. If you can’t do this, most likely any future sales people will have trouble pitching your story.

The logline is a one sentence or one paragraph summary of your story, sometimes called the elevator pitch. Clever writers have used this tool during development and now is the time for the world to admire the brilliant gem.

The logline is so powerful, it doesn’t just tell us what the story is about, it also demonstrates your clarity in terms of vision and plot.

Think of it like this: if you give the people deciding on development or production investment the most powerful, exciting line summarising your story, you can almost be sure your story will pop in their minds before any others. You have already half won the money.

SYNOPSIS

Even if the synopsis is not used for the first elimination, a badly written synopsis will most likely throw you out of the race at some point. Once a first selection is made, readers will need to refresh their minds and in stead of re-reading the entire script, they may look at the synopsis in stead. If yours is sloppy and uninspiring, this may reflect on the discussions about the script in the shortlisting stage.

I am of the opinion that significant tax money could be saved if funding agencies would behave like the rest of the film industry and make a selection based on the synopsis first. It is a time-efficient and highly reliable tool to assess the story in a reasonable level of detail without the need to read for hours. A badly constructed story can be a good read but ultimately it may waste everyone’s time.

Finally, one page is one page. Don’t cheat. If necessary, cut out all subplots and focus purely on the protagonist’s journey.

THREE PAGE OUTLINE

Here you can go into more detail about any side-characters and their journeys. If the synopsis suffered in terms of its style because of the struggle to get the essential plot points in, here you can be more evocative. Give us a flavour of the genre of the film by using expressive language. However, this is still not a treatment: no dialogue or detailed description.

DEVELOPMENT NOTES

Honesty first. Know your strengths and weaknesses. Don’t over-sell. Be clear about what you want to achieve in the next draft. The development notes are hugely important and in all fairness, it is not really an area where you can be on your own. It always pays to hire a professional to look over the application materials as the competition is fierce and many of your competitors will have worked through their submission with the help of a script consultant.

These notes should provide the SWOT Analysis of your work. Why do you believe it will attract millions of viewers? Why is it worth spending money on further development? And most importantly: what are you intending to do next? For a writer, it is hard to judge the merits of your own work. Here you will need help from an experienced reader, another writer or a script editor.

One more piece of advice: start writing these documents EARLY. Don’t wait until the last days before the deadline. Not only will you save yourself the stress and the danger of having documents riddled with typos. When you have the time to let your application materials rest for a week, two, three, you will have time to write another seriously improved draft. You will pick up on weaknesses you didn’t see in the first place. The final result will be 200% better.

Back to work. Good luck!

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Karel FG Segers

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

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“an overt focus on structure may be to the detriment of the script overall. He prefers to discuss scripts using more generic terms such as beginning, middle and end. The hero’s journey (a la Campbell and Vogler) should be approached warily.”

Not only does it show a grave lack of understanding of the depth and importance of the Hero’s Journey, it goes directly against most forms of successful storytelling.

I find it a dangerous statement, as aspiring screenwriters may have taken it as sound advice from a working screenwriter. The fact that it hasn’t sparked more controversy in the industry is another symptom of a film industry lacking a genuine storytelling culture.

On the other hand, Karin Altmann’s views on script editing are completely in line with those held by successful professionals around the world.

The following article, containing the quote, was reprinted with the kind permission of ScreenHub.

NSC 2007 – Script Editing
by: Anne Richey
Screen Hub – Monday 22 October, 2007

The first draft’s done. The characters are in place, and the story has been established along with what you would like to say. Except for maybe that character – that scene – the way the story is resolved – Time to call in a script editor.

The next question is who do you choose? With places like the AFC unable to recommend script editors to you, the best way is probably to ask around, and to find a script editor with the style you will best respond to. And their styles do vary.

To illustrate this point, Keith Thompson and Karin Altmann outlined the different methods they use to assist the writer to improve the script.

Keith Thompson, script editor on more than 20 produced feature films and five or six mini series, takes a very fluid approach. He considers his role to be the editor of the writer, not the script. He looks for a way for the writer to find the truth in what they are writing, whether through getting to know the characters better, preventing self-censorship, or any of the variety of other hurdles which the writer must find their way over.

In order to find the truth in the script, the writer must first reach a place where they can recognise what the script is about, and just as importantly, why they should be the one to write the story rather than anyone else, Taking this kind of psychological approach creates a less defensive atmosphere where the writer feels more confident in developing the script further.

Importantly, the script editor should not make suggestions about the script, but rather, encourage the writer on a path to finding the answers for themselves. The aim of the game is to emphasise the good and reduce the bad.

Keith is wary of scripting how-to books, believing that they hold the potential for all movies to end up looking the same. Similarly, an overt focus on structure may be to the detriment of the script overall. He prefers to discuss scripts using more generic terms such as beginning, middle and end. The hero’s journey (a la Campbell and Vogler) should be approached warily.

Unlike Karin Altmann’s approach, he also prefers to avoid the use of cards to work out the structure of a script. He prefers overall to avoid theory and stick to encouraging the writer and developing the script. Karin takes a structuralist approach in a similar way to Robert McKee, starting with the logline, premise, one pager, treatment and then on to developing the script. While Keith agreed that this does work in some cases, he certainly doesn’t believe that it works in all. His theory is that sometimes people need to work out the script while writing it, particularly the first draft.

Engaging in weekly meetings with the writers he’s working with, his role is more that of an encouraging spectator, facilitating ways for the writer to achieve the right outcome. As people only get one chance to read a script for the first time, Keith uses a colour code method for the first draft read-though notes, with a different colour once he knows what the story is about and how it ends. He finds it to be a helpful way of differentiating what should be worked on, depending on the perspective taken,

Karin Altmann’s approach is far more analytical and mechanical. She believes that a script editor shouldn’t get involved with the first draft, and that the script editor’s purpose in the ensuing drafts is to assist the writer’s internal judge. To her, the script editor’s role is to identify not solve problems, and it is not their place to provide scenes, lines or dialogue. They should always remember that they are the script editor, not the collaborator.

Script editors really take the role that producers and directors should be taking if they were better trained at the role, as they have an ongoing investment in making the project as viable as possible. She believes that as time goes on, and more training is developed in the industry, script editor role will gradually disappear, replaced by others with a vested interest in the film.

When editing, she tends to focus on the story more than the writer. She wants to know not only what the story is about, and why the writer is doing it, she also wants to know what the story is really about and why the writer is really doing it. When reading a script for the first time, she likes to imagine it as though watching a movie. On the second read, she uses the one-line scene breakdown method. She finds this to be the best way to determine the strengths of the emotional logic, rhythm and narrative logic. It help in identifying the gaps between the intention and the result, and provides a strategy for moving forward.

Ultimately, the script editor is the servant of the story, not the writer or the producer. They identify the places where the script is in need of resolution, and provide the writer with the pathways to achieving a better script, rather than rewriting it on their behalf. Stop banging your head against the keyboard when trying to move forward with your next draft. A good script editor is all you need.

Anne Richey
Anne Richey is a writer with an engaging demeanor, a systematic approach to organisation, and a criminal mind.

(Reprinted with kind permission of ScreenHub)

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 have just returned from SPAAmart, Australia’s film financing market, where Wojciech and I pitched THE MORTAL COIL to twenty-four industry executives from Australia and overseas. It was only the second time ever I applied for this competitive market. One hundred percent hit rate. Luck? Possibly. But my recent string of successes cannot be ignored as an unusually high hit rate. An AFC project manager with impressive film credits recently told an audience how his applications used to be rejected at a rate of 8/1. No future for me as an AFC project manager, I guess…

If luck is one factor, what other factors are there? The talent of the writer, first and foremost. I have the honour and the pleasure of working with brilliant people. Without an interesting concept you can edit until the cows come home. THE MORTAL COIL has the support of Richard Taylor at the famous Weta Workshop in Wellington. Given the amazing track record of that effects house, their attachment is a major bonus and it helps convincing decision makers that this project will fly.

STORY VS. SCRIPT EDITING

There is no doubt in my mind that the story development approach is another crucial factor in those recent funding successes. I used to get sucked into reading, analysing and assessing screenplays. Most scripts have enough weaknesses on the scene level for a script editor to provide his money’s worth in surface level feedback. The writer takes on board all the comments and does a – often completely useless – rewrite. My rejection rate used to be higher than average until I changed my development strategy. By focusing on the story, the writer doesn’t touch the screenwriting software until the structure works. This sounds like a longer process, but the reality is just the opposite.

If there is an easier way, why do we keep getting caught in this trap? Why do we all give feedback based on the script? I believe that we are scared to tell you – the writer – to fundamentally review the story. What if you walked away to find yourself another editor? It would mean the potential loss of some hard-earned business. Will those essential story changes guarantee a movie that works? Of course not. The most quoted line in the movie industry is William Goldman’s “Nobody knows anything.” But a well-structured story will increase the chances that better people read your script and give you better feedback so you get a step closer to funding.

Once you have successfully applied the principles of story structure and you’ve made it past the Ordeal of story and script development, remember Vogler and don’t confuse the Sword with the Elixir. I, too, am fully aware that the Final Confrontation is yet to come.

SHORT FILMS AND THE PRINCIPLES OF STORY STRUCTURE

The Australian Film Commission is paying $60,000 towards the production of ACID SUN, the first project I took on as a producer after becoming a father late 2004. Parental responsibility had brought with it a greater focus and a more radical selection of projects and short films just didn’t seem to cut it any longer. “Short films no longer work as a calling card.”

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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Otherwise, here are some tips to save you the money and frustration I sacrificed on my way to stardom.

Being a decent citizen, I buy after I try. So I replaced my “trial” version of Final Draft with a legit copy, hoping the bugs would go. It turned out to be the equivalent of going to see THE DA VINCI CODE in the cinema. I felt I had been caught in the trap of some excellent marketing. But what should you expect from a screenwriting package? Let’s put things in perspective.

The last time I checked, Final Draft cost AUD$569, or roughly the same as the entire Microsoft Office Suite. All that, while some simple MS Word macros or style sheets can achieve what Final Draft does? Plus: you have the wildest flexibility in terms of backups, tracking changes, spell-checking, saving online etc. If you don’t have MS Office or you hate Bill G.: OpenOffice. Free.

If you’re really dying to part with your money on a script package, explore Movie Magic Screenwriter (formerly: Screenwriter 2000). Cheaper than Final Draft and better value for money in my view.

But why pay if your writing isn’t earning you any money (yet)? No, I’m not referring to BitTorrent here. A new, totaly FREE piece of software is called Celtx. Still in its infancy but growing rapidly, with a smart development team behind it and community-oriented.

Celtx intends to go a lot further than just the screenwriting bits: it aims at becoming the central command post for your film’s entire project management. If they manage to stay afloat, it may well become a filmmakers’ software of choice.

Now, if you believe that any of the above will help you writing better scripts, you have fallen prey to the Film Industry’s Greatest Con. These are all just word processors with serious formatting limitations. Jazzed-down versions of MS Word if you wish.

Here is my advice for the cash-poor: don’t spend a cent on script formatting and save your money for software that helps you with the hard work. Instead labour on the story using Dramatica Pro, John Truby’s Blockbuster, Movie Outline or Powerstructure.

I used to use the last one, as it distinguishes itself from the others in pretty much the same way MM Screenwriter does among the script software. Powerstructure has immense flexibility, allows you to write full scenes, just one liners, or whatever in between you feel comfortable with.

You can customise it to your own favourite structure, be it three acts, sequences or Vogler’s THE HERO’S JOURNEY, then export directly to a text file or into whatever script software you use. If you’re a member of that circle of writers who first write their entire first draft before starting to outline, you can import your existing script to reshape its structure. Admitted, I’ve had a few quirks doing that but the PS support team helped me out.

Powerstructure makes a lot of sense, as it works in the way most movie decision makers think. It is being distributed by the wonderful guys at WriteBrain, where you can download a trial version.

Even better than burning your money on software: give it to a human story/script editor who could really make a difference for you. ;-)

DVD COMMENTARY: McCABE AND MRS MILLER

I found a downright great commentary on this unsung masterpiece by writer/director Robert Altman, in which Warren Beatty opens a whorehouse in the Old West.

Although thirty-five years old, this movie could be seen today alongside the razorsharp doco THE CORPORATION and – to a lesser extent – AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH. It ultimately tackles corporatisation and if you wish globalisation within the genre of the western. And as the commentary puts it: Altman won’t give you a John Wayne type of Western hero. No. Warren Beatty’s protagonist will shoot you in the back if his life depends on it.

The voice recording of this commentary track is so crystal clear you can literally hear producer David Foster’s watch ticking in the background as he explains why every man and his dog in Hollywood wants to work with this director. I agree: Altman has a vision and integrity that is so rare you won’t even find it with masters like Scorsese. Unlike the latter, Altman will NEVER make ‘one for the Studio’.

My favourite bits are the account of Leonard Cohen’s musical collaboration, Altman’s hilarious tirade about western’s big hats and the master’s view on dialogue:

“The dialogue in these kinds of films […] is part of the character […]. It is not the words that are important. […] That’s too related to theater, where you […] advance plot with the words. When you have close-ups of people and faces […], it’s just better that the words come from the moment or from the actors themselves.”

Altman makes this statement in the context of Beatty’s soliloquies in the film. He asked Beatty to mumble to himself inaudibly before actually delivering the crucial lines in soliloquy. As a result, the audience is used to the character talking to himself in a more or less natural way. And here is the mark of a good commentary: the director sharing with us his struggles to make the movie work.

DVD COMMENTARY: ANTZ

Recently I consulted to a team of comedy writers, which was a completely new and refreshing experience to me. As I’m not a comedy expert, I focused on the (lack of) drama in the script and afterwards the writers were happy enough about the outcome to hire me again for a look at the next stage.

Comedies that don’t work often still work on the scene level but they have issues with the overall story arc. Situations and dialogue may be absolutely hilarious. If there’s no dramatic undercurrent, the audience WILL switch off.

I found a quote on the commentary of ANTZ that makes the exact same point about the input from Jeffrey Katzenberg (photo), who was uncredited producer (and the “K” in Dreamworks SKG):

“We added a lot of comedy kind of after the fact. It’s one of the things that Jeffrey Katzenberg really pushes hard: get the drama to work because if you’re rely on the comedy, you’re gonna loose the audience’s interest in the characters. So sure enough we really focused on the drama and afterwards we […] ended up upping just the silliness of it, the humor of it.”

This charming animation, in which Woody Allen voices the neuroses of the ant “Z”, dates from the turbulent days when Dreamworks went head to head with Disney’s A BUG’S LIFE. Ironically it was Katzenberg who had sealed the deal between Pixar and Disney.

Directors Johnson and Darnell don’t deliver by far the cutthroat commentary we’re used to hear from the Pixar guys, but they do give some insight in their struggles during the development. Notably their work on the character of Princess Bala (Sharon Stone) and her relationship with the protagonist are interesting from a story point of view.

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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