John August

Search Results for: characters

Voice-overs

Formatting, QandA

I have noticed that many films seem to depend on voice-overs,
especially films adapted from novels, I worry about overusing voice over in
my own script writing
because it seems like a kind of compensation when one can’t write the action
of a scene, or translate a character’s thoughts into a compelling visual. What
guidelines would you suggest for writing voice-overs?

–CIM

Voice-overs have a bad reputation for exactly the reasons you cite. Often,
one senses that that writer didn’t do a good job finding visuals and dialogue
to tell the story, and thus fell back on the voice-over as a crutch. And it’s
an especially pervasive problem with movies based on books, because the voice-over
is often the easiest way to translate prose to the screen.

My advice – nothing revolutionary – is to do everything you can to plan out
your story without using any voice-over at all. That means creating scenes that give the important information while moving the story forward, and using
images and moments in place of explanation.

But there are some instances where a voice-over is appropriate. BIG FISH,
which I adapted from a novel by Daniel Wallace, uses voice-over extensively,
because the movie is about unraveling the elaborate stories that a man tells.
Since storytelling is at the center of the movie, it makes sense that characters
will be narrating these tales, both on-camera and off.

What’s important is that voice-over should never replace actual scenes, nor
should it be redundant to what we do see. If a character opens a box and finds
a gun inside, the voice-over shouldn’t say, "When I opened the box, I
found a gun inside." That voice-over adds nothing, except an explanation
for the blind. But if the voice-over had said, "My uncle had many ways
of keeping us in check," then you would have changed the dynamic of the
scene in an interesting way.

Another important factor is which character is doing the voice-over. Whoever
you pick will automatically get elevated to Most Important Character status
unless you deliberately state otherwise (such as THE PRINCESS BRIDE, which
is narrated by a character outside of the world). Just make sure that whoever
gets voice-over power is worth the investment.

Finally, a pet peeve. In my opinion, movies should either use voice-over throughout
or not at all. If a movie starts with a voice-over, then never uses it again,
I get frustrated waiting for it to come back. Similarly, a voice-over that
just kicks in at the end is bewildering, because it seems to break the rules
of the movie I just watched.

Various locations

Formatting, QandA

Can you tell me what is preferred/correct for this situation? Mabel is moving through a house (and, if necessary, outside):

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

Mabel searches for the cat.

INT. KITCHEN – DAY

Mabel searches for the cat.

EXT. STREET – DAY

Mabel searches for the cat.

Et cetera. Thanks very much.

–Arnold Sable

Yeah, that pretty much sucks, Arnold. Unless you are repeating the sentence for some effect, perhaps showing how intensely single-minded Mabel can be, almost anything else would be better.

The simplest choice would be to use a different scene heading that encompasses all needed locations, such as:

INT. HOUSE – VARIOUS ROOMS – DAY

Or, if you do want to show each location, try varying your descriptions of Mabel’s search so that they don’t repeat.

Finally, you could consider using a montage format:

MONTAGE as Mabel searches for the cat:

— She pulls open the dryer in the laundry room.

— Checks the kitchen cupboards.

— Searches under the porch with a flashlight.

— Pokes the broom under the sofa.

— Rechecks the kitchen cupboards again.

What format you choose really depends on the situation, and how much information you need the reader to know.

Film vs. TV writers

QandA, Television

Is there a big difference between being a film writer and a TV writer? Do
you pretty much only do one or the other?

–Alex

Increasingly, many writers work in both film and TV, either simultaneously
or at different phases in their careers. Good writing is good writing, so the
likelihood is that if someone is a good film writer, she’ll be a good TV writer,
and vice-versa. But there are some important differences between the two mediums.

Writing for series television means following a prescribed format, whether
it’s a sitcom or a one-hour drama. There are true act breaks to allow for commercials,
a limited number of recurring characters and sets, and an overall mandate about
what kinds of stories can happen. Television writing is generally collaborative,
with a group of writers contributing to that week’s script, under the supervision
of a producer called the "showrunner." The pace of television writing
is much, much faster than film writing, because there’s a continuous need to
keep up with production. In many ways, being a TV writer is like having a real
job, because you’re working office hours — although they’re often quite long
office hours.

Writing for film has far fewer limits on structure, storyline, characters and tone. It’s also a much more solitary endeavor, because aside from occasional
producer note, you’re off doing the work by yourself on your own timetable.
Some writers thrive in that freedom, while others become paralyzed by indecision.
Usually, a film writer is paid per draft, rather than per week as a TV writer
is, so dawdling can be costly.

There are other important differences between film and TV work. In television,
you see your work on screen every week. In film, you’re lucky if you see it
on screen once a year.

On film, you get to use your characters for two hours. On TV, you get to use
them for a hundred hours or more over the lifetime of the show.

In film, the writer has very little say in the final execution of the work.
In television, the writer supercedes the director.

Now, true confession time. After the success of GO, I created and ran a one-hour
drama on the WB network. While the circumstances and personalities surrounding
that show were uniquely unpleasant, even in the best of situations, I could
never, ever see myself running a television series again. While any project,
film or TV, is going to involve some compromises, television is nothing but
compromises: not enough time, not enough money, not enough energy to fight
the same battle for the 43rd time. And if you’re writing a show about cops,
then by default you’re not getting to write that space epic you’ve always dreamed
about. So you’re compromising your own aspirations as well.

I have friends who truly enjoy their work in television, and manage to pull
off a film career as well, so it can be done. But in answer to your question,
Alex, some people are better off doing one or the other.

Genres and structures

Genres, QandA

Do you have a clear idea of the genre of the film before
you start to write? Do you write to a model, like the three-act structure?

–Lydia

Usually you have a pretty good idea what genre the movie is before you start
writing, at least in the broadest sense – a comedy, a thriller, an action movie.
And of course, within any category there are sub-genres. "Comedies" can
be romantic comedies, black comedies, action comedies, family comedies, spoofs
and so forth. You could spend a weekend listing all the different sub-genres
and still find movies that don’t fit into any.

More important than knowing where to put the video at Blockbuster is figuring
what approach you’ll be taking, and that’s where the real work comes in. For
instance, CHARLIE’S ANGELS is an action comedy, so logically it should do some
of the same things as LETHAL WEAPON or RUSH HOUR. But from its inception,
there were always going to be things about CHARLIE’S ANGELS that would be unique
and difficult.

First, the characters. The movie has three heroines who need roughly equal
screen time, each with their own subplots and love interests. Bosley needs
enough to do so that an actor will want to play it, but not so much that it
takes away from the Angels. And then there’s Charlie himself. He’s the disembodied
voice on a speakerphone box, yet we need to believe he’s a real person.

Second, the tone. Trying to escape the cheesiness of the TV show, early drafts
of the script played the world very cold and high-tech, almost like a MISSION:IMPOSSIBLE
movie. While we wanted the Angels to be super-competent when they were in danger
mode,
we needed them to be huggable when they were off-duty.
They needed to be like your best friends: rowdy, caring, impetuous and fun.
Also, we wanted the movie to be a love letter to Los Angeles: the sun is always
shining, colors are hot, and everyone looks great.

Finally, the action. Early on, we agreed the Angels wouldn’t carry guns. The
decision was less because of the social message than the action possibilities.
Gun fights are about people hiding behind things; we wanted the Angels punching
and kicking. We ended up hiring the fight team behind THE MATRIX to train the
actors in martial arts, and I can’t imagine the movie any other way.

Notice that all of these decisions were made BEFORE we started talking about
plot or structure. That was the right choice, because it meant we could develop
a storyline that would fit the movie we wanted to make, rather than dress-up
a pre-existing plot with details from our movie.

The actual outline we used for the movie was simply a list of 20 sequences.
It was less than half a page. But it took months to get there. During production,
some of the sequences changed for budget, schedule or location reasons, but
the underlying spine remained exactly the same.