Hello, everyone. As you all know, my purpose is to bring you valuable insights you wouldn’t normally get in your typical screenwriting course, screenwriting class or screenwriting workshop.  Why?  Because there isn’t time to go into great detail on certain topics when there’s so much to cover in just the basics.

We’ve been talking about dialogue so I thought this would be a good time to transition into monologues and VOICE OVER NARRATION that is in many ways the inner thoughts of the protagonist or those characters who seem to drive the story forward.

I love these monologues when they’re done correctly – I guess it harkens back to my days as a playwright. I just love words and these great monologues are a great outpouring of words that (if done correctly) can really suck the audience into a film.

This is of course anathema to many pundits who tell you dialogue should only be 3-4 lines long. Well, these monologues are clearly longer than 3-4 lines long and yet when they work, they really work and can enrapture audiences with the beauty of the spoken word.

If you’ve followed this blog for any length of time you know I’m a huge fan of Jerry Maguire, written by Cameron Crowe. He made 2 really wonderful films – “Almost Famous,” and “Jerry Maguire,” then the really forgettable “Elizabethtown.” I’m praying he still has a lot of great scripts left in him and we’ll be hearing about his newest film soon.

Anyway, how can we not be inspired by the opening VOICE OVER NARRATION of Jerry Maguire at the beginning of this movie…

EARTH FROM SPACE

The blue marble as seen from space. We hear the calm voice

of Jerry Maguire, talking just to us.

JERRY’S VOICE

Airight so this is the world and

there are five billion people on

it. When I was a kid there were

three. It’s hard to keep up.

AMERICA FROM SPACE

The great continent through mist and swirling skies.

(Satellites and other pieces of skycasting equipment float by.)

JERRY’S VOICE

That’s better. That’s America.

See, America still sets the tone

for the world…

KID ON BASKETBALL COURT

A puberty-ravaged kid dribbles a basketball, stares straight

at us.

JERRY’S VOICE

In Indiana — Clark Hodd. 13.

The best point guard in the

country. Puberty hasn’t been easy.

Discreetly, his hand slips into his pants and scratches.

Girl on a high dive she’s poised. A faraway look in her eyes.

JERRY’S VOICE

(continuing)

Becky Farling. You’ll see her in

the next Olympics.

She launches her dive into mid-air, into nothingness.

ON TEENAGE GIRL BOXER

throwing punches toward the camera.

JERRY’S VOICE

Seattle, Washington. Dallas

Malloy. Went to court to be

allowed to box professionally.

She’s 16.

ON A YOUNG BASEBALL PLAYER

at bat.

JERRY’S VOICE

Art Stallings, Indio, California.

Check out what pure joy looks like.

He swats a pitch — not out of the park, it’s much sweeter

than that. He drills it over the first baseman’s head, just

out of reach of his glove. Art runs to first, laughing. Pats

the first baseman’s butt. Gotcha.

ON GOLDEN BOY QUARTERBACK — FRANK CUSHMAN

A line of NFL scouts watch a dazzling pass from a future star.

JERRY’S VOICE

In Odessa, Texas, the great Frank

Cushman. Cush is 20.

Quarterback, role model, my

client. He’ll probably go number

one in the draft this year.

Cush turns into a closer shot. He’s a living magazine cover.

A YOUNG CHAMPIONSHIP GOLFER

eyeing a long but level putt.

JERRY’S VOICE

There’s genius everywhere, but

until they turn pro, it’s like

popcorn in the pan. Some pop…

The kid misses the shot, whips his club at his coach.

JERRY’S VOICE

(continuing)

… some don’t.

Hold on the kid, he’s all youthful adrenalin, breathing hard.

Portrait of an intense young competitor.

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. NFL OWNERS MEETING/PALM DESERT FOUR SEASONS — DAY

A wall of new NFL merchandise. Television monitors blink

with the latest endorsement films. Into frame moves JERRY

MAGUIRE, 35. He walks briskly and smoothly, yellow legal

tablet in hand, at home in this lobby filled with Athletes

and Sports Team Owners. We hear Herb Alpert’s epic

instrumental, “The Lonely Bull.”

JERRY’S VOICE

Now I’m the guy you don’t usually

see. I’m the one behind the

scenes. I’m the sports agent.

Can an opening monologue get any better than this? We already feel for this guy. He may be arrogant, he may be brash and a little full of himself, but he clearly loves the beauty of athletic achievement and he clearly loves those he represents or wants to represent. That is a rooting technique. It makes us care for Jerry Maguire – beyond the fact that he’s played by the very personable Tom Cruise.

There’s nothing like studying from the greats. It takes us out of our own insecurities and forces us to aspire to greatness. Let’s all aspire to writing that is this good. There will be a bit more on this subject in the future and then we will switch gears once again.

Until then — KEEP WRITING!

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Hello, screenwriters.  After a one week hiatus we’re back to the topic we were pursuing:  writing great dialogue.

Here is a great example from The Matrix, where Neo meets The Oracle to see if he is the One.  She’s baking cookies as they talk:

ORACLE: I know. You’re Neo. Be right with you.

NEO: You’re the Oracle?

ORACLE: Bingo. Not quite what you were expecting, right I got to say I love seeing you non-believers. Always a pip. Almost done. Smell good, don’t they?

NEO: Yeah.

ORACLE: I’d ask you to sit down, but you’re not going to anyway. And don’t worry about the vase.

NEO: What vase?

He turns to look around and his elbow knocks a VASE from the table. It BREAKS against the linoleum floor.

ORACLE: That vase.

NEO: Shit, I’m sorry.

She pulls out a tray of chocolate chip cookies and turns. She is an older woman, wearing big oven mitts, comfortable slacks and a print blouse. She looks like someone’s grandma.

ORACLE: I said don’t worry about it. I’ll get one of my kids to fix it.

NEO: How did you know…?

She sets the cookie tray on a wooden hot pad.

ORACLE: What’s really going to bake your noodle later on is, would you still have broken it if I hadn’t said anything?

Smiling, she lights a cigarette.

ORACLE: You’re cuter than I thought. I see why she likes you.

NEO: Who?

ORACLE: Not too bright though.

She winks.

ORACLE: You know why Morpheus brought you to see me?

He nods.

ORACLE: So? What do you think? You think you’re the One?

NEO: Honestly? I don’t know.

She gestures to a wooden plaque, the kind every kitchen has, except that the words are in Latin.

ORACLE: You know what that means? It’s Latin. Means, ‘Know Thyself.’ I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. Being the One is just like being in love. Nobody can tell you you’re in love. You just know it. Through and through. Balls to bones.

She puts her cigarette down.

ORACLE: Well, I better look at you.

She widens his eyes, checks his ears, then feels the glands in his neck.

ORACLE: Open your mouth. Say ‘ahh.’

She nods, then looks at his palms.

ORACLE: Okay, now I’m supposed to say, ‘Hmmmm, that’s interesting but… Then you say –

NEO: But what?

ORACLE: But you already know what I’m going to tell you.

NEO: I’m not the One.

ORACLE: Sorry, kid. You got the gift but looks like you’re waiting for something.

NEO: What?

ORACLE: Your next life, maybe. Who knows. That’s how these things go.

Neo almost laughs.

ORACLE: What’s funny?

NEO: Morpheus. He almost had me convinced.

ORACLE: I know. Poor Morpheus. Without him we are lost. We will never find the One.

NEO: What do you mean, without him?

The Oracle takes a long drag, regarding Neo with the eyes of a Sphinx.

ORACLE: Are you sure you want to hear this?

Neo nods.

ORACLE: Morpheus believes in you, Neo, and no one, not you or even me can convince him otherwise. He believes it so blindly that he’s going to sacrifice his life to save yours.

NEO: What?

ORACLE: You’re going to have to make a final choice. In one hand, you will have Morpheus’s life. In the other hand, you will have your own. One of you is going to die. Which one, will be up to you.

Neo can’t breathe.

ORACLE: I’m sorry, kiddo. I really am. You have a good soul and I hate giving good people bad news. But don’t worry, as soon as you walk outside that door, you’ll start feeling better. You’ll remember that you don’t believe any of this fate crap. You’re in control of your own life, remember?

He tries to nod as she reaches for the tray of cookies.

ORACLE: Here, take a cookie. I promise by the time you’re done eating it, you’ll feel right as rain.

Neo takes a cookie, the tightness in his chest slowly beginning to fade.

Okay, let’s talk about what makes this a great scene and really great dialogue. Every bit of dialogue reflects the different aspects of who the characters are. These are the corners of the character’s diamonds (as we spoke previously when we talked about character diamonds – a David Freeman invention).

The Oracle is quirky, eccentric, motherly, insightful with dry ironic wit. Everything she says reflects some aspect of her character diamond.

Notice the strange turns of phrases she uses – “Always a pip.” “Bake your noodle, “balls to bones,” etc. Only the Oracle would say things like this. She also is apt to speak in longer paragraphs, whereas Neo only speaks in short, terse sentences. He is not philosophical as she is. Neo would never say the things the Oracle says.

Their speech rhythms are completely different. We never quite know what the Oracle is going to say or do next, she is mysterious and surprising – being a grandmotherly type baking cookies is a great choice for this character, as I don’t think we’ve ever seen a seer quite like this. So not only her dialogue surprises us but her actions do as well.

Notice how the scene begins with baking cookies, and then takes a much more serious direction, then comes back at the end to cookies. The writers use a metaphor for time – she could have just said you’ll forget this conversation in a few minutes – but she used the metaphor of how long it takes to eat a cookie to describe how quickly his bad feelings would go away.

Always use colorful images like this in your dialogue. He will be right as rain. Just as we paint pictures in our narrative, showing as much as possible without telling, we use pictures in our dialogue as well. We always paint pictures, that’s the form we are all trying to master. It gives us concrete images to bring things to life.

From now on, just as I encourage you to study movies for their structure, rooting interest, etc, let’s now do the same with dialogue, and tune our ears into what makes words sing on screen and banter wonderful to behold.

Until next week – KEEP WRITING!

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Hello, everyone. You know my mantra – I do everything possible to provide information you wouldn’t normally get in your typical screenwriting course, screenwriting workshop, or screenwriting class.  So, here we go again —

Now that we’re focusing on writing great dialogue I hope you all have you personal antennas on alert as to what you hear – not just in everyday life but in films as well. What makes the dialogue in “Juno,” quite extraordinary and the dialogue in a soap opera (any soap opera) extremely uninspiring?

One thing to get clear is that great dialogue in films is not “real” dialogue – what people actually say in real life. None of us are as clever as Woody Allen banter – when Woody Allen banter is really great. Great dialogue in films is a kind of hyper reality.

Very few people actually speak with the wonderful rhythms and choice selection of words that we use when wowing our audience with a great exchange of character interactions. But it has to sound like it’s real, even though it’s not. We can’t pull the audience out of the scene by using dialogue that doesn’t sound like it could be spoken or is too cute or precious.

So it’s a balancing act between great repartee and sounding unreal or pretentious – using words and phrases that don’t sound anything close to how people actually talk.

We do want to use techniques that mimic the way people talk in real life. For example – people interrupting others in a normal conversation. You will notice when you hear people speak that they often interrupt one another. Or someone will only get out half or 3/4 of a sentence and then stop, or quickly switch gears and go onto another related topic.

This is a technique that can spice up an interplay of conversation and make it sound more “real.” We will talk more about these techniques as we continue with this topic.

Next week we will examine “The Matrix,” a really incredible screenplay by the Wachowski Brothers. Amazing how the first film could be so brilliant and the next two so atrociously bad. Be that as it may, we will listen to the dialogue Neo has with The Oracle.

Until then – KEEP WRITING!

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Hello, everyone. As you’re all aware, my sole mission with these posts is to provide information you wouldn’t normally receive in your typical screenwriting class, screenwriting workshop, or screenwriting course.  This certainly fits that fill.

We begin a new topic today, writing great dialogue.

It’s apropos as we start the fall season with renewed energy to create that career we so ardently desire in films.

I encourage all of you to consider getting involved in a screenwriting workshop, to share your work in a group situation, challenge yourself to do the best work possible. The reason I’ve had 6 produced films launched from my private groups and many writers getting representation and/or getting their work optioned is that we keep pushing each writer to do his best work possible.

The film business today is more competitive than ever and you should never let a script go out until it is as good as it can possibly be. Without discerning eyes and knowledgeable guidance, no one including myself can really tell how well he or she has hit the mark. I don’t always get openings in my group but please contact me for information if I can be of assistance.

Now let’s move on. We’ve spent a great deal of time talking about writing great narrative, some formatting issues, and we’ve had many, many posts about writing great characters – especially great protagonists.

Writing dialogue is just as rich a topic. Many writers are confused about dialogue. I think it’s because they read so much Shakespeare and other plays in school and somehow have the notion that writing dialogue is what a screenplay is all about. It’s not. Great screenwriting is writing in pictures. So structure and writing visually is really the essence of what makes a great screenplay.

And that certainly doesn’t mean great dialogue isn’t important. It’s vitally important. But as Waldo Salt said many times, once you’ve discovered the visual image of what the scene is all about, the dialogue tends to come rather easily.

I also had a false notion about writing dialogue when I began as a screenwriter. I thought you either had the talent or ear for writing dialogue or you didn’t. I was wrong. There are many techniques that I’ve learned over the years that have made my dialogue better. These are techniques that anyone can learn whether you have a great ear for dialogue or not.

Let’s look at this banter from “Knocked Up,” by Judd Apatow.

We’re at Pete and Debbie’s House. Ben has come over to have breakfast with Allison, the girl he’s knocked up. Debbie is her married sister and Pete is Debbie’s husband.  Charlotte and Sadie are the young kids who have never met Ben.

Charlotte: Who’s he?

Ben: I’m Ben Stone.

Alison: He’s my boyfriend.

Pete: That’s nice.

Sadie: I never met him before.

Alison: He’s a new boyfriend.

Ben: But a boyfriend.

Sadie: So he came over for breakfast because he’s your new boyfriend?

Debbie: He came from his house, drove over to our house because he thought it would be fun to have his breakfast with us, so he drove his car from his house to our house to have breakfast.

Pete: Because he likes breakfast so much.

Charlotte: I love breakfast.

Ben: You guys wanna hear something neat? We’re gonna have a baby together.

Sadie: What?

Ben: Yeah, a baby.

Sadie: Well, you’re not married. Aren’t you supposed to be married to have a baby?

Pete: You don’t have to be.

Debbie: But they should be because they love each other and people who love each other get married and have babies.

Sadie: Where do babies come from?

Debbie: Where do you think they come from?

Sadie: Well, I think a stork, he drops it down and then, a hole goes in your body and there’s blood everywhere, coming out of your head, and then you push your belly button, and then your butt falls off and then you hold your butt and you have to dig and you find a little baby.

Debbie: That’s exactly right.

Jeez, that’s as good an explanation as I ever heard. But let’s look at this dialogue a little and see what we can learn from it.

It’s short and sweet. It has a rhythm. It’s like good music in that it ebbs and flows and has certain punctuations. It’s clever. And you will notice if you’ve seen the movie that each character has a specific way of speaking and this is captured in their dialogue.

Pete is supremely dry and cynical and doesn’t seem to take anything seriously – this drives his wife Debbie crazy as she is very concerned about her kids, is overly pedantic at times and takes a very serious point of view about just about everything – like people should get married if they’re having babies.

Ben likes to crack wise, he’s a slacker supreme, he makes smart remarks about everything but has another side too – he really likes kids and doesn’t look down his nose at them. He treats kids the same way he treats adults. Alison is a sweet heart, supremely intelligent, but plays the straight guy to Ben and Pete.

Dialogue on the whole should be snappy. It should be clever. It should flow and have a rhythm. It’s not there just to give information, it’s there to be music to our ears. And that doesn’t mean you can’t have dialogue that runs more than a line or two, like Sadie’s wonderful monologue about where babies come from. Actors love monologues. Check out Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction for great dialogue and monologues. But these monologues should not be the norm, but something which plays against the brevity of other dialogue.

The reason a script gets made is because a star elects to do that film. Never forget that. And what do stars want desperately? Great words to say. Great moments to be in. Give them great dialogue and you will be on the road to getting your movies produced.

We will continue this discussion about dialogue in the weeks ahead.

Until then – KEEP WRITING!

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Hello, screenwriters.  Let’s talk turkey this week-end and explore how a screenplay actually gets made.

The truth of the matter is it’s a lot easier to say no to a project than to say yes.  The people who make these decisions are always worried about one thing – losing their jobs and making unprofitable movies.  So it’s much safer for them to turn down projects than to green light them.

Fear rules Hollywood just as greed does.  Anyone who works for a production company, a studio or a network is always trying to cover their ass.  Therefore, the urge to avoid taking responsibility for anything is paramount.

Therefore, when literally one person who has any clout – whether it’s an agent, a manager, a development person, a director, producer or a studio head has the courage to actually say, “I like this.” You’re on your way to getting your film produced.

In other words, you just need one cheerleader with some amount of clout who’s willing to put his reputation and authority behind your project.  That person, if sufficiently motivated, will then go to his colleagues and say:  “You should consider this.  It’s really good.”

Does that sound like a huge breakthrough?  Well, actually it is because that person has been effected in a serious way by something you’ve written.  And that, believe it or not, will effect others.

Because so many people who hold the reins of power in Hollywood don’t have a clue what’s really good.  All they know is – one of my people really likes this project and isn’t afraid to say so.

That one cheerleader will give confidence to others to get onboard.  This person can be an agent or a manager or even the secretary of a producer (who was the first person who liked the first screenplay I wrote and recommended it to her boss, who ended up buying it).  And no, I wasn’t having sex with her.

Very few people out there have the actual confidence in their own judgment to do this.  If you find someone like that, you have hit real pay dirt.  Don’t feel dejected because 100 people didn’t do the same thing – you found that one.  He or she when properly motivated will start a prairie fire that will (if the conditions are at all right – and remember – luck is very important in this regard) that fire will catch and will effect others.

Feel really good when you’ve found one or two of these cheerleaders.  It means your work has a good chance now.  You now just need to fan the flames a bit more, make your screenplay even more marketable with further rewrites (especially if the notes are coming from your cheerleader) and never give up.

We’ll talk more in the future about the inner workings of screenwriting success.

Until then – KEEP WRITING!

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Hello, screenwriters.  You may have taken a screenwriting course, screenwriting class or screenwriting workshop.  In those venues you hopefully learned the basics.  But what I try to do in these posts is provide information you could only learn from someone who’s toiled in the trenches for many years.  This certainly fits that bill.

As we continue to improve our craft and gain knowledge day by day, we hear about one topic more than any other – the character arc.  What does that really mean?

The character arc is central to every great screenplay – whether it’s Casablanca or The Dallas Buyers Club.  The character arc charts where a character begins his emotional journey to the point where he resolves the central emotional conflict he or she is facing.

The more dramatic the arc the more emotion we can emotionally mine in the situation. If a character goes from trust to disappointment, it’s clearly not as dramatic as a character going from trust to betrayal – and this is what all great films are basically about.

Lajos Egri in his fantastic book, “The Art of Dramatic Writing,” writes extensively about this, and I would recommend this book to everyone. He talks about stage plays, but everything he has to say relates to screenwriting as well.

Let’s take another character journey of sorts – From Hatred to Love. This is the heart of just about every romantic comedy – the two romantic leads begin by hating each other and by the end of the film fall madly in love. “The 10 Things I Hate About You,” which was a modern remaking of “Taming Of The Shrew,” did this nicely.

The following is from The Art of Dramatic Writing:

Let’s begin with:

Insecurity to

Humiliation to

Resentment to

Fury to

Hatred to

Causing Injury to

Satisfaction to

Remorse to

Humility to

False Generosity to

Reevaluation to

Real generosity to

Sacrifice to

Love

You see how the steps are carefully laid out – we don’t jump emotions from Resentment to Remorse (for example). This is called jumping emotion and we see this oftentimes in scripts where the reader or audience member will feel something has gone awry – how did the character go from there to there so quickly? It doesn’t feel real.

We as human beings go from one emotion to the next on a gradient scale – so when we chart a character’s development we must be careful to chart it out step by step so it feels real.

Benjamin Button doesn’t really have a character arc from one extreme to the other, he meanders, he has no central relationship which can reflect the journey he is on.

Pay attention to the central relationship of your film. As the film “Rain Man” does it so artfully with Tom Cruise and his autistic brother – we truly see a person going from complete selfishness to compassion and caring – all in this one relationship. This is the signal that you are watching a great film and witnessing wonderful screenwriting.

This craft we are all attempting to master is like any endeavor, the more you do it the better you get. This means moving forward day by day – if you only write one page in 120 days you will have a completed first draft. The race truly goes to the tortoise and not the hare.

Until next week then – KEEP WRITING!

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Hello, screenwriters.  As you’re well aware, these posts are designed to offer insights that you normally don’t hear in your typical screenwriting course, screenwriting workshop or screenwriting class.  This post is certainly in that same vein.

As you know I’ve been writing screenplays for a good while and have also taught screenwriting in my professional workshops and in my private consultations.

During this time I have received some insights into the process of writing movies.  And one of the big lessons I’ve learned both as a screenwriter and an instructor is that good stories change, good characters change and themes change as you get deeper and deeper into the material.

Weak writers who are afraid of their talent want to desperately hold onto their initial ideas.  Strong writers who don’t fear running out of talent or ideas are always open to better ideas and more creative ways to develop their plots and their characters.

Don’t fear change.  Great stories always change.  What you thought your movie was about is not necessarily what it will become.  In fact, if your story and characters aren’t changing to some degree that is a negative sign that the story is not taking on a life of its own.

And that’s what will happen when you dig deeply into your own subconscious and allow yourself to bring your own experiences and feelings into your writing.  What I thought my screenplay was about initially is not what ended up on screen.

I was always open to creative feedback from producers, directors and story analysts.  I wasn’t afraid to take a good idea from anybody – whether it was the guy serving me fries at Burger King or the head of the network or studio.

What we’re doing in screenwriting is a collaborative process.  That means you have to know how to play well with others.  If you insist on always having it your way — this is not the right business for you.  And that doesn’t mean you have to accept stupid suggestions just because your producer has a crazy idea that doesn’t really serve the story.

But if you’re given an idea that doesn’t work you have to be able to come up with a sound, logical reason why it’s wrong. Your argument can’t just be:  “Well, I don’t like,” or “That’s not what I wanted.”  You have to fight stupidity with logic and reason, not stubbornness.

I’ve worked with many beginning writers and the most talented ones always were always open to suggestions on how to make their screenplays better.  The writers who were reluctant to change anything were the least talented and never succeeded in the film business.

If you want to keep others away from your material and refuse to accept good ideas from others maybe the novel writing business is a better choice for you or writing stage plays where no one can change a word of your writing unless you agree.

In the film business, everyone wants to contribute.  And you would be smart to accept good ideas if they’re truly worthy of consideration.

Allow your screenplays to develop, allow your characters to get deeper and more layered.  Let the story tell you what it wants to say rather than keeping a dictatorial clamp on your creativity.

We’ll talk more about these issues in the future.

Until then – KEEP WRITING!

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Hello, screenwriters.  As you’re well aware, I do everything possible to tackle issues not normally covered in your typical screenwriting workshop, screenwriting class or screenwriting course.  This certainly fits that bill.

So here goes – It might appear obvious but we all need someone we can tell our deepest, darkest secrets to.  And hopefully that’s not some shrink.

Well, your protagonist isn’t any different.  Did you ever ask yourself why most heroes and heroines have best friends?  It’s not just because most of us have one of those characters in real life (and for some it’s our dog or cat), but it gives a chance for your protagonist to express to another their most intimate feelings and thoughts.

Why is this so important in films and television?  Because we’re working in a visual medium.  We can paint pictures for people, we can see how people react to things and describe their facial expressions, but we can’t hear what they’re thinking and this is an enormous handicap for screenwriters.

Novelists don’t have this problem.  They can delve much more intimately into their characters lives but telling us what they’re thinking.  It comes across in an extremely natural way and it gives great insight into the protagonist.

Not only that but in a novel we can seamlessly flashback to past events in a way that is usually fairly clunky in a film where we don’t want to break the forward momentum of the story.

So how do we get around this problem?  We have a best friend that the protagonist can open up to – we get to find out what’s really going on internally with the character.  And if done properly, that best friend can also be a counterpoint to what the protagonist is feeling – providing another point of view or can challenge the protagonist in what she or he is feeling.

This counterpoint is important because otherwise the best friend is just a sounding board and there will be no conflict in their relationship or in these scenes.  And we need conflict whenever possible to keep the tension rising and provide drama at every turn.

Another great benefit of the best friend is that he or she can easily provide humor to the story as the best friend is usually eccentric, off the wall, foul mouthed or in some way the opposite of the protagonist.  These best friend parts are wonderful for actors because they get to be colorful in some way without the burden of carrying the story.

But beware – if you’re not careful, best friend can steal the movie – which we certainly don’t want because the protagonist has to be the most dynamic character in the story.

Give great thought and insight into the best friend and look for them in real life as well – whether they’re your husband or wife or bar buddy or dog – life is certainly enriched when we have them around.

We’ll talk more these issues in the weeks to come.

Until then – KEEP WRITING!

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Hello, everyone. As you all know, what I mean to achieve in these posts is providing information you wouldn’t normally hear in your typical screenwriting course, screenwriting class or screenwriting workshop.  So here we go again.

Last week, I mentioned “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,” as an inspired premise that did not deliver the goods artistically.

Why this is so is clearly because of the lack of a compelling character diamond for Benjamin and his lack of a strong character arc. For those of you who missed that post about character diamonds, I will return to the subject soon, so don’t fret.

“The Curious Case” lacks a strong emotional through line. Why this occurs relates to Benjamin not having one strong relationship — one person he can relate to that mirrors his growth as a character.

In practically every film, we need that one relationship that will grow and evolve, mirroring the growth of the protagonist. In this film, Benjamin has no strong relationship with anyone until he returns from the war and begins an affair with Daisy, a girl he befriended earlier.

But to start a relationship like this as late as the second half of the film does not do justice to the protagonist’s need to go from one emotional pole to another – nor do we have time to adequately develop a good character arc.

In “Kramer vs. Kramer,” it was the protagonist’s relationship with his son which showed how he went from a very non-involved father to a great father. In the film noir “Body Heat” it was Ned Racine’s relationship with Maddie which showed how he went from naïve trust to betrayal.

How can we show how a character develops if we don’t have a relationship to reflect this? Well, yes, it can be the protagonist’s relationship with an animal, too, as in “Firehouse Dog,” if you ever saw that or “Beethoven,” an hilarious comedy about an uptight neat freak (Charles Grodin), who needs to control everything. He goes from that extreme to a man who can tolerate messiness and confusion – not just in terms of his physical environment but in emotional relationships as well.

You see from these examples how it behooves you to take extreme examples – don’t just pick a person whose a little uptight about messiness, pick someone who is absolutely crazed about it. Then the arc will be that much more dramatic.

We will talk more about character arcs in the weeks to come.

Until then – KEEP WRITING!

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Hello again, screenwriters.  I promised you that I would provide seminal information you wouldn’t normally hear in your typical screenwriting class, screenwriting workshop and or screenwriting course.  I fulfill that promise in this post as well.

It is a murderously hot day in Los Angeles therefore a good time to talk about movies – as it always makes me think about nice air conditioned movie theatres and sitting in front of the big screen.

As you all know, I live and breathe film and great movies.  I have spent my entire career not only writing screenplays but analyzing what is the real heart and soul of a great screenplay.  What makes an audience really care about one movie and not another.

My personal hero Waldo Salt said – the bond between the hero and the audience is what makes a film succeed or fail.

We need to create that bond with every trick and device at our disposal. And there are definitely tools that the screenwriter learns and employs to sway his audience into feeling that deep connection with his hero or heroine.

If you recall in years past, “Slumdog Millionaire” did it in spades. If you have a working heart and soul there is no way you won’t empathize with the protagonist of this film. Watch the many instances where the hero is slammed by society, the police, authorities in general, by fate. We end up truly rooting for this character to overcome all the terrible limitations imposed upon him to win the game show and get the girl.

Let’s look then at another film which isn’t so attentive to rooting interest, yet has an even more intriguing premise. “The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button.”

Here Brad Pitt is born an old man and gets increasingly younger as the film goes on.  Yet Benjamin Button is curiously unsuccessful in effecting us emotionally. It is the written by the same screenwriter who wrote “Forrest Gum,” Eric Roth.

Where Forrest Gump has major rooting interest – Forrest is handicapped mentally, he is a simpleton but wise, he has a huge heart, he fights for the underdog, and he gives his heart and soul to an abused girl he will never stop loving (Jenny).

In contrast, Benjamin seems rather remote and passionless. He seems to wander through life, doesn’t have deep feelings about the war or those being effected by it and is just kind of bouncing from one experience to the next. This changes in the second half of the film but by then it’s really too late.

We want to immediately care for our protagonists, we want to create that bond immediately between hero and audience. Take a lesson from “Slumdog” how the writer does this, we’re immediately thrown into a dramatic situation with a highly sympathetic character who is facing undeserved hardship (a strong rooting interest).

Always, always as burgeoning sceenwriters be analytical about those movies that work for you and those that don’t – tear apart those films as to why they are compelling or are not.

You will learn yourself how to avoid those pitfalls or emulate the screenwriting skills that are employed successfully by those writers getting their films produced.

We will talk more about Benjamin Button next week so if you have a chance to see it in the meantime, please do.

Until then – KEEP WRITING!

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