Matías from Mallorca, Spain writes in:
I’d really like you to comment on these thoughts by David Mamet:
“People have tried for centuries to use drama to change people’s lives, to influence, to comment, to express themselves. It doesn’t work. It might be nice if it worked for those things, but it doesn’t. The only thing the dramatic form is good for is telling a story.”
I haven’t read Mamet’s full essay on “Countercultural Architecture and Dramatic Structure,” ((It’s apparently also in On Directing Film
He doesn’t detail his logic behind why drama doesn’t work for those four specific purposes, but it’s part of a larger criticism of how filmmakers spend too much energy making “statements” and too little effort on making movies. And fair enough.
I don’t have evidence to argue that drama can change people’s lives. I know it can affect them; I’ve got a folder full of emails about Big Fish. But “changing someone’s life” implies a marked and permanent alteration, and given my limited sample size (myself), I haven’t found that any drama has necessarily done that.
Can drama influence or comment? Certainly. We often think of comedy as the preferred means of making a social or political observation (Bulworth, 9 to 5, Borat), but there’s a long history of issue-oriented dramas, many of them top-tier (Reds, Traffic, Hotel Rwanda).
Can writers use drama to express themselves? Well, yes, obviously. Most artistic works, from graffiti to haiku, can be considered self-expression — though to my thinking, anyone who defends his work as self-expression is very likely a hack.
There’s no question that you can write a movie about [how shitty your parents were](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0439289/). Mamet isn’t really denying that. He’s saying drama isn’t good for this purpose, the same way you can pound a nail in with a wrench, but it’s not the ideal tool. Maybe drama, with its demands of plot and tension and resolution, is not particularly well-suited to a lot of the tasks put before it.
Ultimately, I agree with his point if not his conviction. The foremost purpose of a movie should be the story itself. If a secondary purpose (such as social commentary, or “telling my journey”) weakens the story, you’ve weakened the movie.
I know this is high talk coming from a guy who co-wrote Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle. But that trainwreck is actually a perfect example of how a movie collapses when nearly every element (wardrobe, choreography, wire-fu) is allowed to trump story. ((If you’re bored and curious, the DVD commentary between me and The Wibberleys is an amusing dissection of how Full Throttle got so messed up.))
WRITER
Why don’t the Angels just sneak onto the boat?
DIRECTOR
We need a striptease number.
WRITER
But what are they doing?
DIRECTOR
It’s going to be sexy -- lace stockings, riding crops and...
WRITER
But why are the Angels doing it?
DIRECTOR
I dunno. They need to get something. Think of something they need to get. You’re the writer.
(Repeat 149 times.)
What Mamet is arguing is that even high-minded goals like social commentary ultimately become Cameron Diaz’s swirling ass — attractive distractions that ultimately lessen a movie. And he’s got a point.