Mrs. Mulwray (The phony): “My husband, I believe, is seeing another woman.”
—Robert Towne
Chinatown
During the two years or so that I headed the story department at Cinemobile Systems, I read more than two thousand screenplays and almost a hundred novels. I read so much I couldn't see straight. There was always a large pile of scripts on my desk and no matter how fast I read I was always seventy scripts behind. Every time I thought I was caught up, my boss would walk in and tell me a new batch of submissions was coming in and that I “better hurry” if I didn't want to fall too far behind. That meant I could expect about a hundred screenplays to arrive in the next few days.
I looked for any excuse to avoid reading a script. If a script came in with a one-page synopsis, I read the synopsis only. If the writer told me the story when he or she submitted the script, then I read the first few pages, a page or two in the middle, and the last three. If I liked the story line, or the situation, and the way it was written, I read the whole thing; if I didn't, I tossed it in the return file—in this case the trash can. If I had too much to eat for lunch, or if I had too much to drink, I would lean back in my chair, read the first few pages, prop it on my lap, turn off the phones, and take a ten- or fifteen-minute nap.
My job, as I was constantly reminded, was “to find material.” And yet most of the scripts I read were not very good. Either they were derivative of other movies, or old TV series, or the initial idea was simply a one-liner, meaning the entire screenplay was only about one thing—similar to the later Analyze This (Peter Tolan, Harold Ramis, and Kenneth Lonergan), which is only about what happens in the psychiatrist's office and the character's reaction to that, or Four Weddings and a Funeral (Richard Curtis), which is merely a cute and clever boy-meets-girl story. More often than not, the scripts were thin, flimsy, and weak and I had seen it all before. That was the “good stuff ”; the rest of the material was just poorly written.
I began to see what Jean Renoir had pointed out to me so many times before: writing for the screen is a craft that occasionally rises to the level of art. To write a good screenplay, you have to tell the story in pictures, not words. As I was learning, the art of screenwriting is in finding places where silence works better than words.
Of the more than two thousand screenplays I read, I found only forty worth submitting to our financial partners for possible production. Why so few? As a writer taking a much-needed break from screenwriting, I was curious as to what made these screenplays better than all the others I had read.
Over the next few years, I watched as studios and producers picked up many of the scripts I had found and made them into movies. Of those forty scripts I had selected, some thirty-seven films eventually were made, including classics like The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo), American Graffiti (George Lucas), Jeremiah Johnson (John Milius, Edward Anhalt, and David Rayfiel), Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (Robert Getchell), The Wind and the Lion (John Milius), and Taxi Driver (Paul Schrader), along with many others.
What made these forty screenplays better than the other one thousand nine hundred sixty I had read? I began studying these scripts, and soon began to enlarge my own understanding about the nature and craft of screenwriting. After a while, I began to separate certain styles into specific genres: action-adventure, romantic comedy, science fiction, drama, mystery, and detective stories, and I began to explore how they were put together. I started understanding the dynamics of the sequence, a series of scenes connected by one single idea with a definite beginning, middle, and end.
While I was still in this observational mode, I was given the opportunity to teach a screenwriting course at the Sherwood Oaks Experimental College. I had never taught any kind of a class before and the memories I had of my own teachers were not very flattering. The only effective models I had as teachers were Jean Renoir and one of my English professors at Berkeley during the '60's—they were teachers who sparked my desire to learn. And I remembered something Renoir had once said, that a good teacher is someone who teaches the student to see the relationship between things. Could I do that? Did I want to do that? And the bigger question: What would I teach and how would I go about doing it? The only thing I could do, I realized, was to go into my own writing and reading experience and share my observations about the craft of screenwriting.
What did I look for as a reader? First, I noticed the style of writing—whether it was active, written in present tense, with terse, visual descriptions. The style had to be established from page one, word one. For example, here's a brief description of a run-down building that is a good illustration of a strong, active, visual style: “Bright sun beating through holes in a rusted tin roof. The dirt floor has been dug up. A deep hole, lined with plastic sheeting has been unearthed. There's a FOOTLOCKER open to one side.” That kind of visual description grabs my attention immediately.
The next thing I learned is that as a reader, I have to know what the story is about in the first ten pages. What is the dramatic premise? It could be as simple as the phony Mrs. Mulwray's line in the first few pages of Chinatown: “My husband, I believe, is seeing another woman.” The answer to that question, of course, results in the uncovering of a huge water scandal and several murders.
I also needed to know who the story is about. Who is the main character? Then I can determine whether the action and characters have been “set up” within the first few pages and a strong dramatic context established. In Chinatown, Jake Gittes is clearly the man in charge.
The third thing that has to be established is the dramatic situation, the circumstances surrounding the action. In Chinatown, the dramatic situation is shown and talked about within the first ten pages: Los Angeles is in the middle of a severe drought and water has become a scarce commodity. Jake Gittes is a private investigator hired by the wife of a prominent man suspected of having an affair, and her husband is the head of the Water and Power Department of Los Angeles. All three things: main character, dramatic premise, and dramatic situation are related and set up the story within these first ten pages.
It wasn't too long before I discovered that I could tell whether or not a script was working within the first ten pages. If I didn't know what was going on during that unit of action, I found my interest wandering and I began to look for ways to stop reading.
You've only got about ten pages to grab the attention of your reader or audience. It is the screenwriter's responsibility to set up the first ten pages of the screenplay so the essential story information is established. These first ten pages need to be designed with skill, economy, and imagination. You don't have time to wander around searching for your story. If you haven't involved your readers within the first ten pages, you've lost them. You must set up and establish three major elements in those first ten pages:
Number one: Who is your story about—that is, who is the main character? Number two: what is the dramatic premise—what is your story about? Number three: what is the dramatic situation— the circumstances surrounding the action? In other words, what forces are working on your main character when the story begins? Once you determine how you're going to incorporate these three elements, then you can design and structure the first ten pages as a unit, or block, of dramatic action.
What is your opening scene? Where does it take place? Is it a dialogue scene or an action scene, or simply a series of shots to establish a tone? Do you want to evoke a mood, like Cold Mountain or Gladiator (David Franzoni, John Logan, and William Nicholson)? Or do you want to establish the texture of a character, time, or place, like American Beauty, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, or Gandhi ? Or do you want to set up the characters and situation like Y Tu Mamá También (Alfonso and Carlos Cuarón)? Or, maybe you want to open it with an exciting action sequence like The Matrix or The Bourne Supremacy ? Do you want the opening to be loud and noisy or tense and suspenseful? Do you want a car driving through the deserted city streets at night, or a man strolling through a crowded park with a child on a beautiful Sunday afternoon?
What is your main character doing? Where is he or she coming from? What is the back story? Where is he or she going to? Think about it. Define it. Articulate it. Structure it.
If need be, take that first scene or sequence and structure it into individual and distinct parts: the beginning, middle, and end. How? Start with a separate sheet of paper. Then, take the general line of action, like a chase or wedding sequence or just getting out of bed in the morning, and list the activities that happen at the very beginning of the scene or sequence. Remember that scenes are made up of shots and connected by two things: place and time. If you change either, you need a new scene. (If need be, see Chapters 10 and 11 in Screenplay.)
Do the same with the middle of the scene, and the end—just list the number of activities that occur during the scene or sequence. For example, if the first scene takes place in an office, the beginning might show your character preparing for the meeting or putting together the presentation that occurs in the office. He or she might be working with an associate as they go through the material for the presentation. Or, you might show the character at home after an argument with a friend, lover, or spouse, going through the material before he or she leaves for work.
Maybe your character is catching a flight later in the day on a business trip and we meet him as he's packing. Maybe he has a family and we see him getting ready for his day, like the opening of American Beauty, or waking up on a morning that may have a significant impact on his life, like getting the lab results regarding a serious illness.
The way to approach the scene is to define your character's dramatic need. Is this a scene that is going to move the story forward or reveal aspects of the character? What is the purpose of the scene in relation to the story? Remember that we're striving for conflict, either internal, external, or some combination of the two. What is your character doing before the scene begins and what does he do or where does he go after the scene? What happens at the beginning and end of the scene? At this point you might want to sketch in some visual aspects and details you could use in the scene.
As an example, here is the inciting incident of an original screenplay titled After Life, a sci-fi film set three hundred years in the future in which a cosmic event sets into motion a catastrophic reaction. The main character, a recent widower, reluctantly accepts command of the mission that is forced upon him. He is the person who is best equipped to deal with the emergency. Here are the opening scenes.
WE OPEN IN BLACK:
A PENCIL SCRATCHES ON PAPER, and we hear:
LIGHTER (V.O.)
Looking back, it's easy to see that our world has changed from what it once was. But what happened, and how it happened… That's the mystery.
FADE INTO:
EXT. DEEP SPACE
Black, forbidding, unknown…Then, a velvety RIPPLE reveals the COSMOS—BILLIONS OF STARS back-dropped with brilliant hues of GASES, STARDUST and NEBULAE. Spiralling into position, we watch as TWO NEUTRON STARS SPIN, conjoined in their final nanoseconds of life, and IMPLODE IN A SPECTACULAR DISPLAY OF LIGHT AND MATTER.
Alpha to Omega: the beginning and the end.
What quirky little twist of fate managed to tick the clock one step closer to the end? Well…
WHITE OUT:
A MASSIVE EXPLOSION erupts, thrusting a tremendous amount of destructive energy ripping through the blackest night at the speed of light. A phenomenon known as a GAMMA RAY BURST.
LIGHTER (V.O.) (cont'd)
That was a long time ago, back at the beginning.
THE CAMERA TREMBLES as giant pulsations of deadly radiation sweep through space, burning nebulae, exploding stars—literally gobbling up everything in its path. Layers of gases, clouds, matter and planetary bodies vanish with its passing. It travels thousands of light years, leaving an unbelievable path of destruction.
EXT. PLUTO
PLUTO, glittering in the distant light of the sun, travels quietly along its orbit. The deadly gamma rays approach our solar system. SUDDENLY the tiny PLANET is OBLITERATED, blown out of existence as you or I might blow out a candle.
FADE TO BLACK:
FADE IN:
INT. NASA SPACE FACILITY, ARIZONA—DAY
SUPER TITLE:
FEBRUARY 23, 2323
A BLINKING RED LIGHT flashes silently. We PULL BACK and gaze upon a blank computer screen.
A dazzling display of computer symbols BLASTS onto the screen; the WATCHER PROGRAM boots up and we see a graphic display of our Solar System. But something's out of whack; something's missing.
The orbital trajectory remains the same—but there is no planet there. PLUTO IS GONE. VANISHED.
DR. TRAVIS LIGHTER sits at the computer working the program. Mid-forties, trim and athletic, a space scientist, he works the program impatiently. There's a glitch and he doesn't handle them very well.
He pushes a button on the intercom.
LIGHTER
Sudhi!
SUDHI (V.O.)
Yes, Dr. Lighter.
He stands, sighs deeply, walks to the large window at the mountains standing guard over the brilliant desert wilderness on the edge of suburban Phoenix. Stately saguaro cacti dot the sandy, rocky landscape in the mid-morning sun.
LIGHTER (cont'd)
The overnight in? I think we've got another glitch in Watcher.
SUDHI (V.O.)
Yes…but you're late—again. Do I tell them you're coming? Or do I tell them that you're just late—again?
Chagrined, Lighter gives her a look.
INT. LAB CORRIDOR—DAY
Lighter and SUDHI PANARJEE, Lighter's assistant, attractive, mid-thirties, walk quickly down the hallway. And we
CUT INTO:
Those are the first two pages of the screenplay. Every scene is usually about one thing—one piece of information that is needed to keep the story moving forward, or to reveal something we need to know about the main character. In screenwriting parlance, it's called the reveal. There is a reveal in each scene—do you know what it is? Can you define it? Is it revealed through action or character? Character, remember, is who the person is in terms of their human and moral behavior; characterization is how the character expresses themselves to the world—how they dress, what kind of car they drive, where they live, their taste in art, fashion and music. It's all an expression of who they are.
There's a good screenwriting tool that may help guide you when you're writing the scene: entering late and getting out early. William Goldman, the brilliant screenwriter of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, All the President's Men, The Princess Bride, and numerous others, tells a story about where and when to enter a scene. Goldman sets up a hypothetical situation: a reporter is interviewing a subject for a newspaper or magazine article. The beginning shows the reporter preparing for the interview and arriving at the location; the middle has him greeting the subject, getting comfortable, taking out his or her tape recorder, and beginning the interview. The ending is concluding the interview, packing up, thanking the subject, putting on his or her coat, walking to the door, then suddenly remembering something, turning around and saying: “Oh, by the way—one last question.” That's the beginning, middle, and end of this hypothetical scene.
Where does the screenwriter enter the scene, Goldman asks? With the reporter arriving? Greeting the subject? The interview in progress? The answer is none of the above. The best place to enter the scene, Goldman says, is at the last possible moment, just before the reveal with the reporter asking: “Oh, one last question.” That would be the best place to enter the scene because you can omit all the unnecessary stuff that happens before and focus on what has to be revealed in the scene. Enter late and get out early.
There's a great little scene from Magnolia where Claudia (Melora Walters) is sitting in a bar and a guy comes up to her and says “Hey.” She says “hi.”And we cut to Claudia's place as they “stumble into the apartment,” do a few lines of coke, and he looks at her and says “So?” and we cut to them having sex.
It's great screenwriting. The audience can fill in the blanks; we know what's happening and don't need it explained. It's a very good example of entering late and getting out early with a beginning, middle, and end.
As you explore your options for writing this first ten-page unit of dramatic action, do you think you'll be able to establish the dramatic premise in this first scene? Or are you going to do it in the fifth scene? Is the premise clear enough in your mind to dramatize it? If you decide to open your script with an action sequence like The Matrix or Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Steven Spielberg), can you structure the action into a beginning, middle, and end? Or do you want it to be a series of shots like Vincent (Tom Cruise) arriving at LAX in Collateral ? Or do you want to create an inciting incident to open the script, like the opening of Basic Instinct, Crimson Tide, or The Pianist (Ronald Harwood)?
These are all creative decisions. You want to choose the most exciting part of the scene or sequence and use that as your starting point. You have to grab your reader's attention. Do you see the first scene done in close shots or in a master shot of the entire location, like a restaurant or living room? Your intention is to create the best visual impression to make the scene or sequence work most effectively, with maximum dramatic value.
It is essential to set up your story line immediately, from page one, word one. You have ten pages to grab the attention of your reader or audience, so you'd better design them carefully, with skill and precision.
The opening of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Philippa Boyens), is a good example; the first few pages set up the history of the Ring; we see it forged in the fires of Mount Doom, see the struggle of good and evil played out, then learn that it must be destroyed at its place of creation. Once this is established, we cut to Gandalf arriving at Middle-Earth and the story begins to unfold.
The script opens with an action sequence which is the inciting incident, and hear a voiceover narration spoken by Galadriel (Cate Blanchett) wherein we introduce the history of the Ring. “It began with the forging of the Great Rings…. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest—fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf-Lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And Nine … nine rings were gifted to the race of Men who, above all else, desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made. …In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a Master Ring to control all others…. And into this Ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all…”
During this opening battle for the Ring, the inciting incident occurs: the Ring is lost, then found on page 5, “by the most unlikely creature imaginable…A Hobbit—Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.” We meet the creature, Gollum, anguishing over the loss of his “precious” and we learn on page 6 that “the time will soon come when Hobbits will shape the fortunes of all.”
In the next scene, we enter the Shire as Gandalf (Ian McKellen) arrives and is greeted by Frodo (Elijah Wood). He then visits Bilbo Baggins (Ian Holm), and on page 10, Bilbo tells Gandalf how weary he is: “I feel it in my heart,” Bilbo says. “I need a holiday—a very long holiday and I don't expect I shall return—in fact, I mean not to.”
Look at what we've learned in these first ten pages: we've established the history of the Ring, introduced Gollum, showed how Bilbo found the Ring, met two of the main characters (Gandalf and Frodo), and been introduced to life in the Shire as Bilbo reveals the Ring to Gandalf and tells him of his intention to disappear. We've set up everything we need to know to move the story forward. It is lean, clean, and tight, visually designed to grab the attention of the reader and audience. And it works marvelously. This entire unit of action, the first ten pages, is what sets up all three episodes of The Lord of the Rings.
In American Beauty, we meet Jane (Thora Birch) and Ricky (Wes Bentley) as Jane provocatively asks Ricky if he'll kill her father. Then we cut into a high overhead establishing shot of the street, ending at the house where Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey) and his family live. We see the house and hear Lester speaking in voiceover: “My name is Lester Burnham, I'm forty-two years old and in a year I'll be dead. Of course, I don't know that yet.” We're introduced to Lester's wife, his daughter, and his neighbors. In a few simple strokes we know who the main character is and what the story is about—Lester regaining his “life”—and we are prepared for the key incident, when he meets Angela (Mena Suvari) at Plot Point I, where the true story begins.
Another good example of an opening scene is Crimson Tide. We are on the deck of an aircraft carrier, and watch as military jet planes take off, then cut to newsreel footage of Russian rebels taking over the Kremlin and threatening a nuclear strike on the United States. Then we pull back from a television screen into a birthday party for Lt. Commander Ron Hunter's (Denzel Washington) four-year-old daughter. It is a scene that exploits the situation and reveals character. It's a very visual sequence, and a great example of an inciting incident.
Whether you're writing a comedy or drama or thriller or love story makes no difference at all. The form remains constant. Annie Hall opens up with a monologue by Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) telling us that he and Annie (Diane Keaton) have ended their relationship and how he “keeps sifting the pieces of the relationship through my mind….” That, really, is the whole film, since those “pieces of the relationship” are then told in flashback. It's all set up on the first page of the screenplay.
Larry Kasdan's Body Heat, also a classic film noir, is another good example of setting up the story within the first ten pages. The film opens with Ned Racine (William Hurt) looking out the window at a distant fire while his one-night stand gets dressed. Racine says that it was “probably one of my clients” who started the fire. On page 3, he is in court and we learn that he is a lazy, “incompetent” attorney. The judge is irritated and tells him “the next time you come into my courtroom I hope you've got either a better defense or a better class of client.” On page 4, he is having lunch with his friend Lowenstein (Ted Danson) and we learn that Racine is a man who's “searching for a quick score.” It tells us a lot about him.
On page 6, we see him in his law office with an elderly client; Racine had sent her to a doctor who will not testify on her behalf, so he tells her he will find a “more understanding” doctor. “We'll sue those reckless bastards dry,” he adds.
Later, on page 7, it's night and he's bored. He has a drink at the bar, then wanders over to the beachfront bandstand. He listens to the music, sees Matty Walker (Kathleen Turner), “this extraordinary, beautiful woman,” walking toward him. “She passes within a few inches of him…. Racine's body sways a moment as she goes by as though buffeted by some force.”
He follows her, and during their conversation she tells him she is a married woman; he replies that she should have said, “I'm a happily married woman.” She sizes him up and says, “You're not too smart, are you?” Then, as an afterthought, “I like that in a man.”
He remarks that she looks “well tended,” then adds, “I need tending, but only for the night.” Racine's the type of person, we learn, “whose dick gets him into trouble.”When Matty spills a cherry Sno-Kone on her blouse, he gets some paper towels, but when he returns she's gone, vanished into the night.
These pages are very good illustrations of a well-designed opening.
You can see how important the first ten pages of the screenplay are in terms of setting up the story. They need to be conceived, designed, and executed for maximum dramatic value. If you set these pages up correctly, the story can unfold properly, with simplicity, insight, and understanding.
You've done the preparation. You've clarified your story line, done your character work, structured the first act on 3 × 5 cards, written the back story, and designed the first ten pages. You're ready to start writing this unit of dramatic action to introduce your main character, establish the dramatic premise, and create the dramatic situation.
Look at some films to help illustrate some effective first ten pages, such as Collateral, American Beauty, The Lord of the Rings, Citizen Kane, All About Eve, Chinatown, The Bourne Supremacy, The Shawshank Redemption, and Basic Instinct. You can obtain a copy of the some of these scripts online at Web sites like: simplyscripts.com or Drew's-Script-O-Rama.com or dailyscript.com. Or you can just Google “screenplays” and see what comes up.
The first ten pages are probably the most difficult you'll write. After all, you're putting your first words down on paper, you haven't found your own style yet, so you may experience some doubt, confusion, and uncertainty. Never mind. Just sit down and do it, and be willing to write some terrible pages.
Don't think about it. Do it. Jump in. Trust the process. No matter what the results, good or bad, “true art,” as Jean Renoir once told me, “is in the doing of it.”
The very worst that can happen is that you write some terrible pages. So what? If they're that bad, just throw them away! You're not obligated to show them to anyone.
If you ask yourself how good or bad your first few pages are, you don't have to guess what the answer is. Obviously, it's going to be bad. You will know that it's boring, dull, trite, and ordinary, and you've seen it all before. That may be an accurate judgment. It may well be true. But who is it that's making that judgment? You are.
Let it go. It's only a judgment; it doesn't mean anything. “The mind,” the great Master Swami Muktananda said, “is a strange and funny thing. In the summer it longs for winter, and in the winter it longs for summer.”
But judgments are part of the screenwriting process. Expect it, but don't let it interfere with the experience of writing. Screenplay form should never get in the way of your screenwriting. It's so simple it's difficult.
Screenwriting software like Final Draft will do the formatting for you. A good exercise might be to type up ten pages of a screenplay. Take any screenplay, open it at random, and simply type ten pages. Just copy everything on the page and familiarize yourself with the form. If you don't have access to any screenplays, go online and download a screenplay that you like. There are many Web sites available, so just copy these 10 pages, word for word, shot by shot. You may find it an effective way to help nudge you into the screenwriting process.
When you start writing, just lay your story line out scene by scene, shot by shot. You may find it easier to write everything in master shots: INT. RESTAURANT or EXT. PARKING LOT. Be willing to make some mistakes. You're not going to write perfectly from page 1.
Just tell your story.
When I was working with Jean Renoir, he remarked that beginning a new creative project, whether it be a painting, symphony, or novel, is very much like going into a clothing store and trying on a new jacket. When you try it on the first time, it doesn't look right or feel right. You take it in here, let it out there, alter it so it fits. When you try it on again, it looks all right, but it still feels a little tight under the arms. You shrug your shoulders to loosen it up a bit and make it a little more comfortable, “but you have to wear it awhile before you get used to it,” Renoir said.
It's the same principle when you're writing a screenplay. You've got to get used to it.
Be willing to try things that may not work, to write awkward, stilted, or boring dialogue. It doesn't matter at this stage.
Sit down and write the first ten pages of your screenplay, focusing on your main character, the dramatic premise, and the dramatic situation.
Remember “the longest journey, begins with the first step.”
