Search Results for: characters

Happy Birthday to Lawyers

July 21, 2011 Rights and Copyright

If you write a scene in which characters sing “Happy Birthday,” prepare to [write a check](http://www.slate.com/id/2298271/pagenum/all/):

> Its copyright retains an eternal power to provoke incredulity: *Really? I have to pay for that?* But Warner Music Group, who acquired it in 1988, collects upward of $2 million a year from film and TV fees off the song.

But is the copyright valid? George Washington University law professor Robert Brauneis says no:

> “It is almost certainly no longer under copyright,” he concludes in his study, “due to a lack of evidence about who wrote the words; defective copyright notice; and a failure to file a proper renewal application.”

> So where’s that $2 million annual windfall still coming from? Insurers, for one: The insurance necessary on film financing often requires that litigation be avoided by paying all permissions fees. And even without that barrier, it’s simply cheaper to pay the bill than it is to fight Warner.

Paul Collins has the [full story](http://www.slate.com/id/2298271/pagenum/all/) for Slate.

Writing fight scenes

July 19, 2011 Charlie's Angels, QandA, Words on the page

How much should one describe a fight scene in a screenplay? How specific should you get? What do you leave for the director/choreographer to figure out?

— Evan

Always remember that you’re writing a movie, not a screenplay. Even though you only have words at your disposal, you’re trying to create the experience of watching a movie.

When two characters are talking, that’s easy. Dialogue is straightforward.

When two characters are fighting, that’s hard. Action sequences are the most difficult and least rewarding things a screenwriter writes, but they’re essential to many movies.

I’d direct your attention first to a scriptcast I recorded: [Writing better action](http://johnaugust.com/2009/writing-better-action).

My advice there applies to any situation in which characters are running around, doing things.

Keep sentences short.

Use sluglines to break things up.

Keep our attention so we’re not tempted to skim.

When you have two characters fighting, you’re not going to write every punch. Rather, you need to get specific on how this fight feels different than every other movie fight. What is it about the style, the environment, the stakes and the story that makes this battle unique to this movie and this moment?

The original script for the 2001 Charlie’s Angels sequel (then called Charlie’s Angels Forever) called for Alex (Lucy Liu) and The Thin Man (Crispin Glover) team up in a generic suburban house in Las Vegas.

Here’s what the minimal version of the scene would look like:

INT. HOUSE – DAY

Alex and The Thin Man take on a dozen CARULLO FAMILY THUGS, smashing the house apart in the process.

When every goon is down, Alex disarms The Thin Man. A tense moment, then they suddenly kiss.

ALEX

Who are you?

It’s short, and you’ll find examples like this in many screenplays, including some that have been produced. But it’s cripplingly unspecific. As readers, we have no idea what we’d actually see on the screen.

Will it be scary? Goofy? Gruesome? Realistic?

The actual scene I wrote was a lot longer:

INT. BEDROOM – DAY

TWO THUGS open the closet doors, pawing through racks of dresses as they look for their prey. But they haven’t yet checked

UNDER THE BED,

where a knife-wielding hand suddenly lashes out, cutting one thug’s Achille’s tendons. The goon SCREAMS as he falls. Gun in hand, his partner flips back the comforter to carefully look underneath.

But there’s no one there.

Confused, he glances up just in time to see the Thin Man kick him across the face.

Hearing the commotion, two more GOONS crowd into the room.

Ripping the clotheshanger pole from the closet, the Thin Man uses it as a quarterstaff. Not only does he take down those two thugs, he also drives it

THROUGH THE WALL

to peg ANOTHER GUY in the hallway.

INT. KITCHEN – DAY

Still holding Chico the Chihuahua, Alex takes on one THUG after another, using all the tools at her disposal. One guy gets hit with the freezer door, while another gets a face full of flour and a frying pan to the head.

Alex may not be much of a cook, but she’s great in the kitchen.

Needing both hands free, Alex puts Chico into a ceramic cookie jar. A beat later, the dog pokes his head out from under the lid, wanting to watch the fight.

Rolling back over the counter, Alex swings a hanging plant to knock out a pursuer. Be it a waffle iron, rolling pin or barbecue tong, anything Alex touches becomes a weapon.

INT. BATHROOM – DAY

A THUG goes flying through the glass shower door, which SHATTERS. Wrapping his hand in a towel, the Thin Man grabs a large shard and uses it as a glass sword.

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

On the table, the iMac’s progress bar shows that Betty’s interminable download is nearly complete. Alex faces two more thugs. She kicks one through the wall. Just then we hear...

AOL VOICE

File’s done!

Alex picks up the iMac and SMASHES it into the second thug, who goes down. Just when she thinks she’s finished, she hears a

SHOTGUN PUMPING

behind her. She turns to face one last thug, the LEADER. He keeps both barrels trained on her.

THUG LEADER

Kung-fu this, bitch.

Alex knows she’s toast. But just then, we hear a THWICK!

The cut was so fast we didn’t really see it, but then the Thug Leader’s head separates from his body. Both parts fall, revealing

THE THIN MAN,

who carries his improvised glass sword, now blood-stained.

Half a beat, then Alex rushes him. She spin-kicks and SHATTERS his sword, which falls to pieces on the floor.

Both unarmed and extremely dangerous, Alex and the Thin Man stare at each other, face-to-face, not sure what happens next.

Suddenly he grabs her, pulling her in for

A PASSIONATE KISS.

She doesn’t fight it -- at least not at first. But then the adrenaline wears off, and she pushes free.

ALEX

Who are you?

While I’ve included a lot of specific ideas about what kinds of things we’d see (shower doors, closet rods), I’ve left a lot of room for the director and fight choreographer to be creative (“Be it a waffle iron, rolling pin or barbecue tong, anything Alex touches becomes a weapon.”).

The scene as written gives a sense of what the final scene will feel like, even if a lot of the details change. That’s what you should be aiming for in a fight sequence.

Javier Grillo-Marxuach on craft

July 14, 2011 Television, Words on the page

The Tiny Protagonist has a [good interview](http://thetinyprotagonist.wordpress.com/2011/07/12/interview-javier-grillo-marxuach-of-lost-and-the-middleman-part-1-of-2/) with Javier Grillo-Marxuach (a writer/producer on Lost and many other shows), talking about how he got started and the craft of television.

I like his explanation of keeping the reader engaged:

> You know what a Gilligan cut is? It’s how on Gilligan’s Island, the captain always goes, “I’m not wearing the chicken suit!” and then bam –- he’s wearing the chicken suit. A Gilligan cut is very much a SMASH CUT TO. So if I have two scenes that are sort of languid scenes of characters, you probably don’t put a CUT TO. But if you’re doing a Gilligan cut, then you put a SMASH CUT, and instead of using a slug line, you turn your slug line into the captain wearing the chicken suit, and you describe the setting later. So you do things like that really to try to get the reader involved with the prose so they don’t just go from dialogue to dialogue.

To get a sense of his style, check out [Grillo-Marxuach’s site](http://web.mac.com/chaodai/Grillo_Marxuach_Design_Bureau/projects.html), where he’s posted a bunch of his scripts, treatments and pitch documents.

He also discusses one thing I’ve come to appreciate over the years: screenwriting does get easier with practice. What you lose in youthful energy you make up for in finesse:

> I find that, what experience gives you is craft, which means that when inspiration fails you, you can still build a pretty workable set of bookcases, even if they’re not the prettiest bookcases. And an ability to cope, mostly to cope with the psychological rigors of the job.

Newly arrived in Los Angeles

July 12, 2011 First Person, Los Angeles

Matthew Hickman was born and raised in rural Georgia. After dropping out of law school, he started working an hourly-wage job at a UPS store, and saved money for a year in hopes of moving to Los Angeles to begin a screenwriting career.

Several months ago he arrived in Santa Monica, where he now works at another UPS store, writing in his off hours. He recently published a [novella on Amazon Kindle](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004LLIEZW/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=johnaugustcom-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399349&creativeASIN=B004LLIEZW”) and has just started work on his second feature length script.

—-

matthew hickman I want to stress my beginnings here because I know that for many of you, getting to L.A. is the battle before the battle. I think many of John’s readers may have a sensation similar to what I felt in the time I read this blog before I moved to L.A., and that’s one of isolation. In the middle of reading all this talk about getting an agent, pitches, script revisions, options, treatments, and copyrights, many of you probably feel left apart entirely from the ability to act on your ambitions. I know I did.

How it starts
—-

As I sit here in my two hundred square foot studio, water is boiling on the stove. I live in a guest house attached to someone’s guest house. I’m not completely broke, but I do eat a lot of spaghetti these days. I don’t have much money to go out with friends, much less go out looking for them.

On the other hand, I recently paid eleven bucks to see a screening of The King’s Speech followed by a Q&A with David Seidler, Tom Hooper, Colin Firth, and Helena Bonham-Carter. The next week it was Darren Aronofsky between screenings of Black Swan and Pi. At my day job I’ve had conversations with Marcus Dunstan, Lester Lewis, and others about advice for new writers. I’ve met Jessica Biel without knowing it, and walked by Paul Haggis on an empty sidewalk on a Sunday afternoon. If I hadn’t been wearing a Cookie Monster t-shirt at the time (don’t ask), I probably could have exchanged a few words with him about what it takes to succeed here. Lastly (and most importantly), I’ve met countless other transplants from Normalville, USA looking to carve out their place in the entertainment industry.

All this has happened during my first four months in Los Angeles. These are a few of the trade-offs I’ve gladly made for a shot at what most of you reading this column want: to be a screenwriter.

Unlike a lot of the first-person columns you’ve been reading the last few months, I haven’t accomplished much yet as a screenwriter. I don’t have any writing credits to my name, none of my work has been optioned. Hell, I don’t even have an IMDb profile. But I have made one significant step toward that dream of being a working writer we all harbor: I made the jump and moved to Los Angeles.

For those unconvinced about the benefits of moving here, see the above paragraph for examples of why you should rethink your position. I’m not just namedropping (Jessica Biel aside). If a guy freshly transplanted from the foothills of Appalachia can run into all these people, imagine who you could meet here.

And I don’t even have a car.

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