Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Highlights & thoughts: TV Script Analysis course

I've received my final grade for TV Script Analysis class. The professor, Pamela Douglas, is chair of the television track in the screenwriting division, USC School of Cinematic Arts.

Professor Douglas's bio says that her book, Writing the TV Drama Series, "has been adopted by network mentoring programs at NBC and CBS, and foreign language editions have been published in Germany, China, Korea, Spain and around the globe." As I studied her book for class, I felt like Professor Douglas was standing next to me with heartfelt admonitions. Her writing is stern, authoritative and funny. She loves television, she loves what she does, and she loves teaching.

One week in class we studied a clip from MASH. The clip is only a few minutes in length and each of the main characters is being interviewed for a documentary. What brilliant acting and writing; while being filmed talking about their experiences taking care of the wounded, the depth with which each character understands themselves (truthful, evasive, kind, broken, exhausted) and the real psychological impact of their experiences is revealed by their expressions, layers revealed between words; with each pause. The reality for each character is often different from the words they are speaking and is visible and clear. If I learned this lesson well, my character's words will never be generic. Each character truly is "unlike anyone who has lived, or who will ever live."*

The class was the first time I considered television drama to be literature. As the weeks went by we were exposed to increasingly complex themes. One of the final dramas we studied was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In the episode we screened, vampires had descended upon the town, stealing the characters' voices and leaving them mute; that was one story that was woven into the episode. We also saw Buffy's attraction to one of her classmates and his to her; their experience mirrors the other story; on a deeper level both he and Buffy are struggling to be able to use their voices so that they can talk about their feelings for each other. It's just as frightening and almost impossible for them as battling the vampires to regain their ability to speak. A couple of weeks ago, I made a presentation about storytelling to a group of writers and mentioned this episode; a friend who recently earned her degree in literature mentioned that there are college courses where many episodes in the Buffy series are studied. Another person in the group mentioned an episode that tells the story of Buffy's mother's death; after watching it a hospital chaplain told him that it's the best study of grief that she has ever seen.

Many if not all of the clips and series of clips, and full episodes we screened in class had won awards. As I rode the train home after the final day of class, I wondered if the students' expectations had been raised too high. Not every episode of every show is close to the quality of the episodes we had studied.

On the final day of class, Professor Douglas told us that she was going to give us one of her top pieces of advice for beginning writers.

She said that beginning writers can often find work writing for shows that aren't the top shows. She said that at the beginning of her career she decided that no matter what project she had been hired to work on that she would honor her craft, and always give it her best.

For some of the early shows she had worked on she told us, episodes where she had done this received the only awards those shows ever received. She said she'd had a friend long ago who refused to do this; he said he would give his best someday, when the project merited it. Tragically he passed away at a young age, before he had the opportunity.

We covered so much this past semester including an entire lecture on working with composers and music in film. I've saved my notes and will write more about the class as it impacts what I'm working on or struggling with (these are the most fun posts for me to write).



Sunday, May 6, 2012

Bringing life to a scene: The actor's business

After finishing the master of professional writing/screenwriting program, I asked for permission to take classes in the USC School of Cinematic Arts. I learned that USC alumni may sign up for any class at USC, with permission from the school that offers the class.

While I eventually attended classes with graduate students (production/directing & screenwriting students), the first class I took as an alumni was Ron Friedman's beginning screenwriting. I approached the class as a master class, and I wasn't disappointed.

Like other great screenwriting teachers I've taken classes from, Mr. Friedman was more interested in the story than if the scenes he assigned were in perfect screenwriting format. In the project's early stages, what matters is if the content is as powerful as it can be, and if it can be captured on screen.

Mr. Friedman thinks more quickly than anyone I've ever met; in fact I once turned in a project that wasn't the best and he read it aloud to the class. Instead of tearing it apart, he created dialogue and storyline as he read, showing me what the scene could become. Brilliant and motivating!

One week, we were workshopping a nighttime scene a student had written. The characters enter a house where a party is taking place. After we had read the scene Mr. Friedman paused and suggested that the student give the actor something to do. Suggestions: take off a coat, fiddle with his keys, use a prop. He called this the "actor's business."

I've searched for "Actor's business" online, and can only find links to the business of acting. The actor's business must be a secret technique that actors learn about from the best teachers, directors, or mentors. Giving the actor something to do gives the actor another tool to shed light into what the character is thinking.

How powerful can the most subtle direction the writer includes in the scene be?

A few years ago a friend told me about an experience she'd while she was a resident. Staff taking care of a tiny infant were terrified when they examined the baby and monitoring alarms would sound. They would immediately put the baby back into the incubator and the alarms would stop. Finally someone realized that the preemie was controlling the situation. This wasn't mom or dad; he didn't want to be examined or prodded, or have a needlestick. He could control the situation; he had learned that when he held his breath the exam would stop and he would placed back into his warm, cozy incubator. NOTE: Another example would be how Martha Stewart chopped cabbage as she answered questions during the CBS news Early Show while answering questions about her sale of stock in 2009.

Just how does the character fiddle with his keys? How does she take off her coat? Giving the actor something to do with their hands is part of the artistry of film; it makes us not want to take our eyes off the screen for it can help deepen the audience's understanding of the character.


NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for "The Business of Writing for Screen and Television," a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.