Most script readers, producers and agents will agree the average spec screenplay has too much dialogue in it. Yet the average spec screenwriter takes very little notice of this proclamation, believing their craft or their individual screenplay to be the exception to the rule! It’s not difficult to see the thought process behind this: after all, they work hard on differentiating their characters’ voices and on writing great lines actors would LOVE to say aloud, so they’re home free, right? Again: a million times, NO. Your screenplay is NOT the exception to any supposed ‘rules’, especially if it is a drama screenplay! In the case of genre screenplays like horror, thriller, or even comedy, many scribes accept that characters must ‘earn the right to speak’ and often try to relate dialogue to both character motivation and plot. This frequently goes out of the window, however, when the same writers attempt to write drama, the most oft-cited reason being, ‘But it’s a talky film!’
Again, it’s not difficult to see why spec drama writers feel this way. It’s definitely true that dialogue plays a (slightly) larger part in drama screenplays than genre. What’s more, it can even be a selling point ‘off the page’, especially when it comes to the likes of acclaimed drama writers such as Aaron Sorkin. If we consider a produced drama like The Social Network (2010), the story of social media phenomenon Facebook, it is clear that witty dialogue is a ‘high point’ of the movie. Being a relatively recent true story that has been widely reported, we think we ‘know’ how it will work out for all the characters involved (Zuckerberg squeezes his co-founder Eduardo Saverin out and Facebook takes over the world), just like we think we ‘know’ how it will work out in Saving Mr Banks. In addition, Zuckerberg (and indeed most of the characters) are hard to relate to, being so privileged and, ultimately, dislikeable. It’s perhaps part of the human condition to admire those who can do what we cannot; but, equally, many of us also want to crush others like bugs if they’re ‘too clever’ and/or have superiority complexes… Mark Z and friends have such superiority complexes in abundance, which is probably the principal reason nerds are so reviled (rightly or wrongly) in high school and the world at large. So, we can see Sorkin’s dilemma: how can he make his audience LIKE such ultimately dislikeable people? The answer is simple: make them funny! Generally in life, IF you’re funny – and a male, preferably white – you get a free pass to be as obnoxious as you like. Sorkin does this with aplomb in The Social Network, getting the audience on board regardless of what the characters actually do! This combination of funny dialogue and despicable actions means the audience ends up in a curious place, hating AND admiring the characters at the same time. No mean feat.
But there’s an obvious mega-difference between a Sorkin screenplay and the average drama screenplay dialogue. The latter’s is just NOT GOOD, regardless of how hard a writer has worked to differentiate characters’ voices, or write the so-called ‘great lines’. The main issue is down to the fact writers appear to think spec drama screenplays are ultimately theatrical in nature; they end up writing what I call ‘screenPLAYS’. In other words, writers think drama screenplays equal people standing or sitting around, simply talking. As a result, screenplays will become long chains of exchanges, going on for pages and pages, occasionally broken up by a line or two of scene description to promote the idea of ‘movement’ in the scene. But it is a lie: there is no real movement in the scene. Often that scene description is just ‘filler’: staring out a window; a raised eyebrow; a shake of the head. Readers won’t fall for it and neither should writers. Screenwriting is a visual medium; we all know this. Yet many spec screenplays contain very few visuals at all, with drama screenplays being the biggest culprit in this respect. But how do writers tackle this and turn their drama screenPLAY around?
Sometimes, an obvious problem like your drama screenplay being ‘too theatrical’ thanks to its having ‘too much dialogue’ requires an obvious solution: writers need to think SCREENplay, not screenPLAY. But what does this entail? How about this, for starters:
• Cut, cut, cut. Very often, spec drama screenplay characters will make long ‘speeches’ every single time they speak: typically four or five lines, or even more. Writers make this mistake because they realise correctly that drama is about eliciting an emotional response… but instead of trying to elicit emotion from their target audience, they attempt to do this with their characters instead! As a result, their drama screenplay becomes very melodramatic, with characters naming their pain and splurging their FEELINGS OF WOE all over the place. UGH! Get rid. Same goes for other extremes of emotion, especially anger, but also other stuff like romance. Think about the people in your life: do they say exactly what they mean all the time? Of course not. Loads of things get in the way of ‘true’ honesty. During our ENTIRE LIVES, we can probably count the number of times anyone is truly honest with us on one hand, yet here is a screenplay full of this stuff? Readers can’t believe in the story or your characters as a result.
TIPS: So, if you want us to believe, make it DIFFICULT for your characters to say what they truly mean. Do it any way you want. But do it.
• It’s about character behaviour, NOT talking. An old screenwriting adage is ‘characters are not what they SAY, but what they DO.’ Many Bang2writers over the years have confessed they’re ‘not really sure’ what this means, usually because they feel that if they can’t have their characters saying what they need or want, their motivation is ‘unclear’. The key word, however, is ‘do’, as in ‘behaviour’. We know people want various things from us in ‘real life’ by the behaviour they exhibit, even if they don’t actually speak it aloud. The most obvious example would be romantic relationships. If you’re British like me, you’ll know dating can be a minefield because very few of us will come right out and say we want to go out with someone! Yet most of us pair up at least a few times in our lives and this is because we decode what that other person DOES. Sometimes it’s obvious (i.e. s/he sends us a signed Valentine’s card, or takes the opportunity to plant a snog on us under the mistletoe at the office Christmas party)… sometimes it’s NOT so obvious (i.e. s/he hangs out at the photocopier in the hope of talking, making you think, ‘Hmmm, does s/he do that to avoid working, or to talk to me??’). Misunderstandings, threats and opportunities will abound in our real, lived experiences of romance and its pitfalls, so these lived experiences must help ‘inform’ our characters’ actions in our drama screenplays, for them to be authentic.
TIPS: Think about your characters’ motivations or goals in your drama screenplay. Do you have any direct experience of the same? Great! Make a list of the events that happened, the people involved and what they did, both for you and/or against you, plus your own response. Now try and imagine WHY they might have taken the course of action they did and HOW you could have reacted instead? Try putting yourself in their shoes, even if it pisses you off (arguably, it’s good if it does, you might learn something extra!). But if you don’t have any direct experience, that’s okay: find people who have real experiences of what you want to write about. You can do this in ‘real life’ or you can read interviews with people, but DON’T rely on just one account; remember Eric and Gail’s ‘mitosis screenwriting’. Again, make lists of what people DO and why you think they followed that path. That’s what ‘write what you know’ ultimately means; it doesn’t mean you have to have lived it personally – just do your research!
• Substitute visuals for dialogue. Remember: most scenes in drama screenplays are STATIC, with characters talking about ‘whatever’, with the screenwriter sneaking in the odd line of description here or there to describe someone doing something PHYSICAL, e.g. crying, putting a hand on someone’s shoulder, hugging them, etc. YAWN. You need to know how to make scenes VISUAL. Watching a play, we will sit in the audience and stare at the characters moving around on stage; that’s it. Movies are different: the various camera shots and transitions (wide shot, close-up, POV, dissolve, match cut, etc.) can make the audience feel they are ‘right there’ with the characters, sometimes even looking directly through THEIR EYES. Never lose sight of the fact that you should be using visuals WHEREVER POSSIBLE, because ‘scene description is scene action,’ as Script Secrets’ Bill Martell says in his fantastic ‘16 Steps to Better Scene Description’, which is probably the ‘how to’ article I’ve recommended most to Bang2writers in the last ten years or so.
TIPS: The purpose of drawing your attention back to the mechanics of filmmaking is NOT to say you should include camera shots and transitions in your spec drama screenplay (generally speaking, you should NOT). Instead, think of how the finished film will look, then render that as ‘image’ (aka scene description) on the page in such a way that we can appreciate the world view and internal conflict of the characters. Again, there are no ‘rules’ on how to do this, but if you find yourself stuck, watch those produced dramas you feel have done it well (and read their screenplays!) and take a note of HOW they did it. At first, you may find yourself copying, but keep going! As ‘rendering as image’ via scene description ‘clicks’ in your head, you will develop your own style.
• Man the perimeters! Most spec drama writers do not give themselves an effective ‘perimeter’ for scenes, preferring instead for the scene to go on for as long as it ‘feels right’. As a result, too many scenes end up way too long, often because they end up feeling ‘bloated’ with dialogue (or, up until three or four years ago, because those scenes were ‘bloated’ with scene description! Always interesting to see how writing habits and mistakes change, en masse, in the spec pile). Writers need to challenge themselves to ensure each individual scene is as dramatic as it can be; or, as another old screenwriting adage goes, they need to ‘enter late and leave early’.
TIPS: I frequently suggest spec writers have ‘up to a page’ for ‘ordinary’ scenes and ‘up to three pages’ for ‘extraordinary’ scenes in genre screenplays. Obviously that’s not set in stone and, in the case of drama screenplays, there’s perhaps a little more leeway for ‘extra’ dialogue, though those dreaded chains of exchanges must never take priority over a drama script’s visual potential. Think very carefully about scene length and its impact on your story and the characters; never just leave it to chance.
• Dialogue is an ILLUSION. Very often spec drama writers will look at produced writers ‘known’ for their dialogue, like the aforementioned Sorkin, and believe the success of the work is down to that great dialogue alone. But it’s important to remember not only that the produced writer may have more ‘leeway’ than a spec writer, but that Sorkin doesn’t just write ‘good dialogue’; he is the WHOLE PACKAGE. In a world in which there are more spec screenplays than anyone could ever want, the reason Sorkin has a career and Joe X doesn’t is because Sorkin can do ALL OF IT: story, character, dialogue, visuals, THE WORKS.
TIPS: Don’t ‘work on’ your craft, then; INVEST in it. Do you even know what you need to invest in – what are your weak points? How do they compare to your strengths? If you don’t know, why not? If you do know, what are you doing about it? And by when? You need to be the whole package, too, and you need to be it ASAP or you might as well go home. You have to be willing to challenge your writing to be the best it can possibly be, otherwise it doesn’t matter how great you are at selling yourself: the screenplay will let you down and you won’t see others for dust. With this in mind, then, it’s time for our final case study – a drama screenplay still in development, just like yours, and how its writer/director plans to get it made, whatever it takes… just like you!
Writer/Director: Chris Jones
Produced by: Judy Goldberg
Budget: Unproduced (so far!)
Q: What’s good about it?
A: In a corner of the market overtaken by both American Media Imperialism and animation via the likes of Pixar, DreamWorks and Disney, Rocketboy offers a rare chance for family audiences to glimpse a decidedly ‘British’ 1960s story world in which the Great Outdoors meant adventure, summers were never-ending and friendships felt like they would last forever.
MY LOGLINE: An old man recounts his childhood building rockets with his grandfather in the 1960s, detailing how he fell in love along the way.
This case study is slightly different, because the movie is as yet unproduced (the only reason I would ever obey the ‘no spoilers’ rule, in fact!). What’s more, no book on taking your filmmaking destiny in your own hands would be complete without a word from the original Guerrilla Filmmaker, Chris Jones. Known for his stirring ‘Do It Yourself’ books and classes, and working out of the iconic Ealing Studios, Chris is also director of the London Screenwriters’ Festival, overseeing the rest of its many classes year round. But in an industry in which trainers often haven’t actually done what they teach, Chris has: he practises what he preaches. He’s written screenplays, raised finance, plus made and sold the films… and in the case of LondonSWF’s 50 Kisses initiative, even crowdsourced them and got them in the Guinness Book of Records! So I was only too happy to give Chris notes on the two projects currently in development with Living Spirit, his filmmaking arm: one, a horror called Transplant, was an intriguing tale about playing God, which I liked a great deal, but felt (at that time) to still need work. However, it was the other script, a family drama called Rocketboy, that really caught my attention and fired up my own imagination.
Including a family drama AGAIN may seem like a strange choice at first glance (but then this has become a recurring theme in this book). But many family dramas include elements of comedy or action-adventure, surely taking them beyond the ‘usual’ remit for a drama story? No, says Chris: ‘Family drama is not about being the fastest, or getting the girl/boy, or winning the game… it’s about taking a stand for what you believe, and then acting with courage for that belief. And core to this is that kids MUST know that failure is always a possibility. I feel many stories are afraid of upsetting kids, not remembering all the great ones had real jeopardy, consequence and often loss.’ I totally agree with Chris. When I consider the movies that made the most impression on me as a young child, the list reads like a Muppet/Puppet Appreciation Society: The Dark Crystal (1982), a tale of how everyone has the potential to do both evil and good, so tolerance and understanding are a must; Labyrinth (1986), a story of how family ties matter more than sibling rivalry; and The NeverEnding Story (1984), a dark and epic journey of self- actualisation via the power of the imagination. Interestingly, all of these movies are quest narratives drawing on Homer’s Odyssey, in which their protagonists are tested and even betrayed in the course of the story, facing heartbreak and loss. As Chris points out: ‘I believe kids are robust and hungry for experience they can relate to, stories they can grow from… the playground is a battlefield!’
An emotional response is absolutely key to most family dramas. Also, like many produced dramas destined for more adult audiences, family films frequently mine those six themes I identify in the course of this book: ‘joy’ is the most obvious, but even devastation, on occasion. After all, what adult now, growing up in the eighties, can forget Atreyu’s horse, Artax, succumbing to the Swamp of Sadness in The NeverEnding Story? But it’s a family movie more recent that is Rocketboy’s biggest influence: Disney’s Bridge to Terabithia, the story of two opposites, a country boy and a city girl, who create a fantasy world of trolls, monsters, ogres and giants, which they rule over together as king and queen. ‘I wanted to capture those first moments when we, as young people, fall deliriously in love, even if the experience is confusing, scary and overwhelming,’ says Chris. ‘It’s a love letter back to my former self.’ But, most importantly perhaps, family dramas frequently have messages for their young audiences, moral or otherwise, that adults can also relate to. Yet that doesn’t have to mean being preachy with it, Chris argues: ‘Kids are small adults and really sharp as tacks. Let them live emotionally challenging experience through drama, so they feel informed about who they would like to be when similar problems manifest in their own lives… inspire them to be the most courageous they can be.’ But how does a writer ‘capture’ emotion, so this might be transferred to their target audience, via storytelling?
When I think of the two family dramas that have elicited a strong emotional response in me recently, the first that leaps out immediately is Frozen (2013). As the highest-grossing animated movie ever, Disney’s Frozen needs little introduction; it is a retelling of the classic ice queen fairy tale and contains not one but two three- dimensional female characters. Elsa and Anna are princesses and sisters, with one’s ‘gift’ (or ‘curse’) coming between them, isolating them from each other as they grow up. Elsa’s ability to create ice is seen by some as a metaphor for being gay; others as being symbolic of mental health issues, disability or other things that may make a teenager socially ‘awkward’, in comparison to the bubbly, lonely (but otherwise ‘normal’) sister, Anna. But it is not Elsa’s story: it is Anna who must recognise her sister’s right to be whoever she needs to be… only then can Anna truly be there for her. One of the things Disney does especially well in my opinion is relating their stories to girls in the audience, so I was gratified when my little girl, just seven years old, quipped, ‘I feel very emotional right now!’ as we were leaving the cinema.
The second family drama that left a lasting impression by eliciting that all-important emotional response in me was Epic, also 2013. Despite its rather poor title, Epic is the story, not only of the importance of being environmentally friendly, but of how to cope with grief. After the loss of her mother, city girl Mary Katherine (MK) goes to live in the countryside with her eccentric and estranged botanist father, who insists there are little people called ‘Leafmen’ in the woods. Of course, MK’s father is correct and she finds herself caught up in the little people’s war with the Boglins, putrefying creatures symbolic of deforestation and pollution. Strikingly, Epic features a female protagonist who is a teen, rather than ‘tween’ (ten to twelve years old). This is not only very unusual in family dramas (teens are frequently cast in the antagonist’s role, especially as the older brother or sister), but forms part of the moral message of duty and sacrifice that underscores the whole movie. When Queen Tara of the Leafmen is mortally wounded by the Boglins, she passes the role of finding her successor on to MK, who happens to be present. Tara explains she realises MK doesn’t know what her place is in their world, but that everything is connected and she must do this quest for Tara, so the balance of both their worlds can be preserved. This is a brilliant piece of writing, because very often teenagers are not sure of who they are, or what their place in the world is. As a result, they may underestimate how everything and everyone is connected, which can lead to conflict between them and other people, especially figures of authority like parents and teachers, who usually have their best interests at heart. Here, then, in Epic, is a way of ensuring older kids have that same chance Chris describes of ‘living through drama’ so they too can become ‘courageous’, just as MK has to be in the course of the quest against the evil Boglins.
American titans like Disney, Pixar, DreamWorks and, to a lesser extent, Blue Sky (which produced Epic) have cornered the market. But, unlike Epic or Frozen, Rocketboy is not an animated film. Also, Chris and his team are not as heavily financed as Disney, which made Bridge to Terabithia for a budget of about $30 million. That may be chump change to Hollywood, but is a figure out of the grasp of most indie filmmakers, especially British ones. ‘I don’t plan to compete, just to make the best movie I can,’ Chris explains. ‘When I get to distribution I will assess the market at that time and make choices based on the landscape then, not now. What I can tell you is that it’s better to sidestep the bull in the bull fight, with effortless grace, than it is to directly engage the bull head on.’ So, with its large cast, plus its larger-than-life arena that includes an entire rural off-shore island (complete with lighthouse!), not to mention its period setting in the 1960s and stunts involving actual rockets and children in the water in capsized dinghies, how on earth does Chris hope to get this film funded?! ‘We are living in a massive evolution for all creative industries,’ Chris replies. ‘There’s always money for the right project… we will find money from the traditional sources such as the Enterprise Investment Scheme (tax relief), broadcasters, but also new tools and ideas and, of course, the crowd.’ It’s so easy to talk down such plans and dismiss them as pipe dreams. But Chris’s enthusiasm calls to mind Alison Owen and Kelly Marcel on Saving Mr Banks. Some might have called the women ‘crazy’ for even considering potentially ‘wasting their time’ on a project that could so easily have faltered, had Disney not come on board. Yet Saving Mr Banks now exists, proving perhaps you have to be both passionate about your project AND ambitious to be in with a chance of making something of worth. I have faith Rocketboy will come into being on the same basis.
• Family drama isn’t about ‘just’ winning or losing, but taking a stand for what you believe in, so they often involve sporting contests or ‘battles’ of some kind against figures of authority, especially parents, teachers, nasty neighbours or baddie businessmen. Often such battles are metaphorical, with the target of the child protagonist’s resentment completely unaware of how s/he is seen. In the case of Bridge to Terabithia, Jess casts his father as the antagonist and they can only find their way back to each other after a tragedy, ‘seeing’ each other for the first time in years. In the best family dramas, there is a very real sense of jeopardy and potential loss: the days of ‘it was all a dream’, where characters can just ‘wake up’ Alice in Wonderland-style, is no more tolerated by children than it is adults!
• Though many family dramas stray into realms of fantasy, science fiction and/or action-adventure, many, such as Bridge to Terabithia and Rocketboy, create world views from a child’s POV, giving us a glimpse of how their psyche works, rather than being ‘event-driven’. Family dramas are most typically in the ‘Joy’ subtype, but frequently include elements of ‘Wonder’ and ‘Bittersweet’, as well as ‘Devastation’, which Bridge to Terabithia does brilliantly with Leslie’s shock death. Family dramas infrequently use ‘Shock and Awe’, since this most often takes the characters into action-adventure and event-driven, rather than character-driven, storytelling, but not always.
• Family dramas often rely on the quest as a metaphor for growing up, especially in the case of ‘coming of age’ dramas. As Chris suggests, children and teens can ‘grow’ via drama; they’re making sense of the world around them. So how can you relate your story to this concept? What did your childhood mean to you? To other people you grew up with? To those you don’t know? What would you tell yourself ‘back then’ that you know now? Ask everyone.
• Family drama is an underrated opportunity to use various methods of storytelling, arenas, symbolism and allusion to disseminate a complex message to an eclectic group of people, both young and old. In my experience, there are relatively few family dramas in the spec pile and almost all of them are American, which I always find interesting. British and European children have relatively little to watch that originates in their home countries in comparison to their American counterparts, and whilst it is difficult going up against the ‘Big Three’ (Disney, Pixar, DreamWorks) and other large animation studios, as I’ve already said multiple times, the more difficult path is often the most worthwhile. Plus, as Chris points out – don’t compete, sidestep instead! There’s room for everyone if you play it ‘right’.
• Enabling children in the audience to link stories and relate them to one another, so they can ‘live through drama’, as Chris suggests, is a smart move. Children are more media literate than they have ever been, so if they can work out hidden meanings in your story, you will keep their attention longer. What’s more, parents love their kids learning stuff in their leisure time, so get parents on board and you’re likely to sell tickets or DVDs, because it’s adults who hold the purse strings.
• Everyone has a favourite family drama from when they were a child – and I mean everyone! Reference them, pay homage to them or update them (without doing an out-and-out adaptation) and you may find this a great way of getting other people on board with you.
• Make decisions based on what is going on at the time. The industry is constantly in flux, so you can’t plan for every minute eventuality in advance. Every film is essentially a leap of faith, but you can make that leap ‘shorter’ by knowing how the industry works and what opportunities are available to you, such as tax breaks. There is always money for the ‘right’ project. Lots of writers and filmmakers don’t believe this, but there are always ways of making it happen for your drama screenplay if you’re determined enough and willing to go the long haul.
And remember…
Ambition is great, but passion is key. None of the dramas in this book were ‘easy’ to pull off. Most productions are not easy in truth, but, as mentioned, you may at least have a starting point or ballpark for genre. So if you’re hoping that someone will come along and just take your drama screenplay off your hands and make it, you should probably write something else. Seriously. But if you can throw yourself into this story; research it; challenge yourself; write and rewrite times infinity; plus stick with it NO MATTER WHAT and find others who will commit to doing the same, you might just have a produced drama, about ten or twenty years from now! So I’ll wait for my invite to the Oscars, Golden Globes and BAFTAs… See you there!