John August

John

Seriously, pick up The New Yorker

Rave

At the urgings of the [Lazy Self-Indulgent Book Reviewer](http://lazybookreviews.tumblr.com/post/3169147541/wait-shut-up-this-entire-issue-of-the-new-yorker), I checked out the February 14, 2011 issue of The New Yorker. She’s right. It’s amazing.

Lawrence Wright’s piece on Paul Haggis and Scientology is so long I suspected it was some kind of Möbius strip. Through it all, I kept thinking, *Jesus, if this is what could make it past legal and fact-checking, what got cut? Moon bases? Re-animation of the dead?*

Rebecca Mead’s celebration of George Eliot was great even though I’ve never read Middlemarch. Now I will.

Malcolm Gladwell has sort of made a career of pointing out the obvious — I enjoy this snarky [Gladwell book generator](http://www.malcolmgladwellbookgenerator.com/) — but I agree with him that college rankings like you find in U.S. News and World Report are largely useless. For most students, the character of the school is a better decision factor than its selectivity. Some students flourish at giant public universities, while others need the community of a small school in the hinterlands. Comparing those experiences on a numeric scale to figure out which is “best” is pointless daturbation.

For screenwriters, the prizewinner has to be Tina Fey’s essay about trying to decide whether to have another kid, knowing how it will mess up 30 Rock and other aspects of her career.

> I can’t possibly take time off for a second baby, unless I *do*, in which case that is nobody’s business and I’ll never regret it for a moment unless it ruins my life.

> To hell with everybody! Maybe I’ll just wait until I’m fifty and give birth to a ball of fingers! “Merry Christmas from Tina, Jeff, Alice, and Ball of Fingers,” the card will say. (“Happy Holidays” on the ones I send to my agents.)

It’s the first New Yorker in which I barely looked at the cartoons.

Two things I liked about Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark

Broadway

Taped to the back of my seat at this past Friday’s performance of Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark was a survey soliciting audience opinions of the still-in-progress musical.

Survey cards are common in the film industry, but this was the first I’d seen used for a Broadway show. The front side of the form was designed to be filled out before the show began. It asked questions about demographics (age, income, education, whether you lived in NYC) and why you chose to see the show. It was more detailed than I’m used to seeing for movie test screenings.

The reverse side was for after the show, asking questions about scenes, songs and characters. I didn’t fill it out very thoroughly, because there’s not much I can offer as criticism of the show that hasn’t been said at length in last week’s excoriating reviews. Piling now on feels like schadenfreude.

I did make a point to highlight two things I thought worked. I’ll share those here.

**”If The World Should End”**
This is the song MJ (Jennifer Damiano) sings in act two. It’s lovely, spare, haunting — and nicely on-story. This and Peter’s song (“The Boy Falls From The Sky”) that comes right after it felt like they snuck from a much different, much more compelling musical.

**The Skyscrapers**
How do you translate an idea that centers on a vertical cityscape to the stage? In this case, really well. The forced-perspective Fritz Lang-ish skyscrapers are constantly in motion, culminating in a a fold-out Chrysler Building that juts overhead like a plane taking off. In general, talking about how pretty the sets are is damning, like complimenting a writer on his punctuation. But in this case, the skyscrapers really are something worth seeing.

I have no idea what’s going to happen with this musical. On one hand, it’s selling well, so maybe it’s review-proof. On the other hand, the producers are publicly and privately acknowledging it needs work.

I’m pointing out these two bright spots because (a) if it keeps running in its current form, they’d be the two reasons to consider buying a ticket, and (b) if it closes, these were Things That Were Cool.

It’s too easy to file things away as “success” or “failure.” Almost every creative work is a mix of both.

Any printer will do

Follow Up

Reader Brian asked for follow-up on an old post about [picking a printer](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2005/picking-a-printer).

Back in 2005, I had an HP LaserJet 4100. I still do. I haven’t needed to replace or upgrade it. It still works fine.

As I noted back then:

> I don’t print nearly as much as I used to, since most times I’m delivering a .pdf rather than a printed script. I used to recommend screenwriters spend the extra money for a fast printer, but there’s really no great advantage now. Almost any laser printer — and even most inkjets — can print a script in less time than it takes to walk the dog.

I’ve spent a lot of time this year in New York, working on a project that requires a fair amount of printing. My only printer is a cheap inkjet from Staples that I store in the producers’ office.

Every time I use it, I marvel. It’s remarkably fast. Inkjets have come a long way from my college StyleWriter.

Same with laser printers. My first Apple LaserWriter cost several months’ rent and weighed more than my dorm refrigerator. Now you can get one for a hundred-and-something on Amazon.

If I were in the market for a new laser printer, I’d have my choice of great options. But the one I’ve got is perfectly fine.

We’re used to technology becoming better, faster, smaller, cheaper — in this case, nearly disposable. ((The environmentalist in me frets that printers may have become too cheap and too easy to throw away. The printer cartridge racket supports selling printers at a loss (or near-loss). More than once while re-boxing this printer before carrying it several blocks, I’ve thought It would just be easier to buy a new one.)) I think the reason we don’t talk about how good printers have gotten is that paper has become much less important in our lives.

So for a screenwriter like Brian, I’d recommend checking out reviews online and buying the least expensive (but decently-reviewed) printer that meets your requirements: laser or inkjet, color or not. Don’t invest the money or time into more than you absolutely need. And then hold onto it. It’s likely to last you a really long time.

Talking over a black screen

Formatting, QandA

questionmarkI want my screenplay to begin with a short statement from my main character, just over the black screen prior to the film beginning, then cutting to that specific character already in action. I’m unsure how to format this.

Currently I just having his statement in quotation marks prior to any actual formatting:

EXT. BLACK SCREEN

“Something Important”

INT. HOUSE – DAY

Character stands in his home, exclaiming things.

I don’t like the looks of that, because it doesn’t state who is speaking. I’m unsure of how I should handle this, which is disconcerting as it is my first sentence.

— Ben
Saginaw, MI

answer iconA black screen is a black screen. It’s not INT. or EXT. Whether you start the film with a black screen, or you create one mid-way with a CUT TO BLACK, you can simply have your characters speak over it.

Dialogue always has a name above it. Always.

Even if we haven’t yet been introduced to the character speaking, it’s okay to use the character’s name. Depending on the situation, you might use a descriptor instead, e.g. “NERVOUS WOMAN” or “BOY’S VOICE.”

In your case, the intro might look like this:

A black screen.

MAX (O.S.)

What I saw today was failure. No, worse than that. I saw surrender. I saw someone taking all the opportunities they’d been given and throwing them in the trash.

FADE IN:

INT. DOG SHOW – DAY

MAX HERNSHAW (33) is on his knees, berating an adorable YELLOW LAB PUPPY.

MAX (CONT’D)

Do you know what I sacrificed to get you here today? A personal life. Girlfriends. Drinking buddies. Do you know how many times Andy got to see Inception? Four. How many times did I get to see it? One-and-a-half.

The puppy begins to lick its crotch.

You don’t have to say “black screen.” Until you’ve shown us something else, we’re going to assume it’s a black screen. But it’s not a bad idea to call it out anyway.

I used (O.S.) after Max’s initial dialogue, but one could make an equally good argument for (V.O) or (PRE-LAP) — or using nothing at all. It’s your preference. The reader is unlikely to get confused.

Learn more about formatting dialogue here!