Thursday, June 23, 2011

Day 17: Roadmap into the industry

Movie clips we studied last night in Directing Actors course included:

  • The Graduate (interaction between Dustin Hoffman and Anne Bancroft; imagery in first scene)
  • Rain Man (characterization vs. character. Characterization is how we are introduced to Tom Cruise at the beginning of the story--selfish and greedy, unable to love--while character is what he becomes)
  • Next (lack of an interesting/intriguing plot leads to flat performances as the actors don't have internal conflict to draw upon; also a good example of character as Nicolas Cage rescues Julianne Moore even though she will torture him later)
  • The American President (amazing performance Annette Bening gives as she hides her emotions from Michael Douglas while moving out of the White House)
  • Gladiator (great storytelling in this movie, inspired by the story of George Washington)
In Gladiator the audience is introduced to Russell Crowe as he stands on a charred, empty landscape. His mind wanders to home, where he imagines he's standing in a field; he caresses golden stalks of grain as we hear children playing. Then the movement/sound of a small bird brings him back to the present. He's wearing the uniform of a Roman General; his expression changes to resolve--he has decided that he will fight one more battle before returning home. Even before one word of dialogue is spoken, we see that he isn't a fearless warrior, that he's a kind person who loves his family, and home.

As we studied clips from the various movies, Michael Uno's urged us to think simpler, viscerally. He'd ask a question and instead of a complex explanation, he asked us to evaluate the story and what the characters' actions reveal with one-word answers: is the character sad, mad, jealous. If we started to give a complex explanation, he would stop us and tell us that the answer was much more simple.

This is one of the hardest things for me to do. When I worked with Irvin Kershner, I learned that he despised minuscule details that were unimportant to the story, especially in the beginning stages of planning. As I outlined the scenes, he asked me to write on index cards using the biggest, thickest marker I could find. Being able to squeeze only four or five words onto each card forced me to distill dozens of thoughts into what was really important.

Here's to keeping it simple.

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.




Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Day 16: Roadmap into the industry

Last night was the first session of Michael Uno's course, "Directing Actors." The course is offered as part of the USC School of Cinematic Arts' Summer Production Workshop.

After having worked a full day, whenever I leave a seminar or class on the USC campus at 10:00 p.m. I feel energized, even though it's an hour-and-a-half commute back home. I've never left a class session without having learned something that will change my writing, or that I will share with friends.

Last night Michael gave us 23 handouts with information about acting, and passages and quotes from well-known directors. We watched scenes from several movies and he lectured about the actors and the characters they were playing including dialogue, facial expression, what's happening internally, interactions among the characters/actors, and wardrobe.

He repeated a saying several times last night that touches on dialogue: "The bigger the lie, the better the line." The more a character wants to hide something or to be intentionally deceptive, the better smoother/more convincing his or her line will be.

We learned that a director shouldn't tell an actor to become more angry, or more sad (more about this tomorrow).

Michael also spoke about characterization vs. character. As an example, he showed portions of Tom Cruise's first scenes in Rain Man. The only thing Tom cares about is making money. That's characterization, while character is what he later becomes--concerned about his brother and longing for family. Character is also what a character does in a moment when he or she doesn't have time to think or decide what to do.

The class was from 6:00 to 10:00. We reviewed class requirements: writing original scenes and then making them come to life: choosing real actors and joining production teams to film, and then editing the clips into scenes ourselves. I realized that in order to complete the assignments I'd need to take nearly two weeks off from work. For the first time I can remember I dropped a class at USC. I'm hoping to take the class next summer.

As I write screenplays, I will think about the actors who must interpret the dialogue; writing scenes that will make it easier for them to show emotion.

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.


Monday, June 20, 2011

Day 15: Roadmap into the industry

"Why is this day different from any other day in the character's life?" I wish I could remember where I first heard or read this. I think about it every time I begin to make notes about a protagonist and I ask it again as I write the first scene.

The day begins the same way it always has and then something happens; the character's life can never be the same again.

I think I heard the words during one of Syd Field's lectures. I've never taken a class from him but I responded to an email that the Master of Professional Writing office sent to the writing students in the program. He was updating his book "Screenplay," and needed someone to transcribe lectures he'd given at USC and during a 3-day seminar he'd held in the U.K. I responded and eventually transcribed audio from classes and the U.K. seminar into about 400 typewritten pages. It was an amazing experience for a beginning screenwriter.
For my friend, the doctor, the moment happened during an ordinary workday as he admired the skill of an older construction worker. It shocked him into redefining his life and he applied to med school. For me, it happened one afternoon while working on a monthly newsletter for a dental school. Deadlines were always hectic; many issues were completed with the help of Starbucks w/double shots of espresso. That afternoon a nursing student was working in the office asked: "Is this what you're going to do for the rest of your life?" "No," I replied. ( story: http://bit.ly/NYbio )

The protagonist feels content and then something happens; the adventure begins. His life will never be the same. This will continue to motivate me as I finish that short story.

Note: Syd Field's books are in my library; they were helpful as I struggled to learn the structure of those 120 pages.

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.


Sunday, June 19, 2011

Day 14: Roadmap into the industry

For several years I worked in a college PR office. Our office published a four-page ad sheet, and each ad represented a story--a diamond wedding ring for sale, never worn; a moving sale 7:30 a.m. Sunday, everything must go; lost pets; houses for lease. Sometimes when the receptionist was away from his desk I'd help customers who were dropping off ads.

One day a physician rang the bell. He was wearing a lab coat embroidered with his name and his specialty. I felt a subtle disconnect; his appearance didn't match his uniform; he didn't have the physique or the affect of many doctors I'd met.

I could tell by his build that he was someone used to physical labor. He wanted to rent a room; his wife was a physician working in a hospital about an hour away until he finished his residency. He was studying for state boards and needed a room to sleep in, two to three nights per week.

I took his ad and payment, and answered his questions. His personality was down-to-earth. I wondered what his story was.

After the ad was printed, I ran into him once in awhile on campus. One day I asked why he had chosen to study medicine. "I was working on a construction crew," he said, "when one day I watched an older worker put some spackle on a trowel and then onto a wall. He did it expertly and so quickly and for a split second I admired his skill. Then I was horrified--I'd admired him. Was that all I wanted to be able to accomplish in 30 years?"

He applied to medical school. "My dad," he said, "is a tough guy; in high school and college he always insisted that I take the most challenging science courses."

During his med school interview, a faculty member asked why he wanted to become a physician. "So I don't have to work outside in the summer," he replied. The faculty member laughed. "That's valid," he said.

* * *
When I began taking screenwriting courses, no matter how hard I tried each character's dialogue sounded alike. I struggled with this for a long time; I knew they were no more interesting than people in computer generated crowd scenes.

I once attended a Ducks game with a friend who provided commentary about the crowd. Describing the row in front of us: "Season ticket holders usually sit in those seats but they're not here tonight. Those people shouldn't be there. Look how guilty they look." Across the ice, a several girls were sitting on the front row. "They're season ticket holders, too. They come to all the games and dress as sexy as they can, and flirt with the players. See the one wearing blue? she got pregnant; never stopped coming to the games, and then had the baby." I knew their stories and yet my friend had never met them.

In computer generated audience or crowd scenes small details, their stories, are missing. That's the disconnect; what appears on screen remains unsatisfying.


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.






Friday, June 17, 2011

Day 12: Roadmap into the industry

Many of the writing courses in USC's master of professional writing program are presented in workshop format. Several times during the semester, each of the 12 or so students in the class complete 15 or 20 pages of a story, polish them, and make a copy for each person in the class to read. The next week the students take turns discussing and critiquing the pages, followed by the professor's assessment.

I'll always remember one of Gina Nahai's introductory lectures. She spoke about how the first scene in a novel can be likened to a stage shrouded by curtains. As the reader opens the book for the first time (or begins to read the opening sentences on a Kindle or Nook), the curtains rise to reveal the main character. The experience is wondrous, magical. Who is this person, what is their story? Gina made it seem so exciting!

Gina also discussed character, quoting a playwright's description of a little girl playing outside, she's wearing a tulle dress and is by herself spinning (or maybe she's dancing), caught up in her own thoughts and world.

I can remember at the beginning of the writing program struggling because my characters' dialogue was indistinguishable from each other. They weren't living, breathing characters. As I remember Gina's voice describing the little girl whose actions could've captivated an audience it helps make creating and writing fictional characters less paralyzing for me.

I remember an incident taken from hundreds of hours spent in writing workshops. That night we were critiquing a classmate's story. I could see the main character relaxing on the deck of a small boat, seagulls circling. The class didn't have a problem with the storyline, but our professor did. She was picturing those hundreds of thousands of books that are published each year. In her opinion, the student's work didn't stand out.

"Your character is passive," she said. "All he does is rest on the boat and watch the world go by. He needs to do something." Now, a few years later, I wonder what happened to that character. Is he still sitting on the deck of that boat watching the world go by? Does he only exist in a file on a laptop, or was he reworked, fighting battles? Would I root for him as he ends up somewhere so incredible and unexpected that as the last chapter finishes, I am saddened, wanting more?

I'm working on a short story now, and that's a lot to think about.

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a USC 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 roadmap into the industry.


Thursday, June 16, 2011

Day 11: Roadmap into the industry

What to write, what story to tell?

The bestselling authors, the agents and managers, producers, directors and actors who spoke to us at USC were realistic about our odds.

Two agents who met with us both talked about the importance of creating a saleable product. As artists create, they must consider bread before pleasure; work to put a roof over their head before creating something that's meant only for their pleasure.

To become and remain successful we were advised to read the trade publications every day. One agent was inspired by stories; another advised us to see every movie that's released and to study how they did opening weekend; then how they fared the next week and the next.

During her lectures Gina Nahai, one of my favorite professors and mentors in USC's Master of Professional writing Program, reminds students in each of her writing classes how many hundreds of thousands of books are published each year. Only a tiny fraction of them will become bestsellers, and she suggested that as we begin a new project that we ask ourselves: "Why am I writing this?" and "Why am I writing this now."


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

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Day 10: Roadmap into the industry

Irvin Kershner spoke about screenwriters who had learned their craft well with respect and awe. He spoke just as passionately about screenwriters who didn't give him a story that intrigued him, or wasn't well written. He disliked talky scenes where the characters' words were unnecessary or if the dialogue didn't create tension or advance the story.

Kersh said that the best screenwriters he knew were always watching people--in their day-to-day lives, always observing what they did, what they said.

And he said this about screenplays: "In every scene, one of the characters wants something. They may not say a word. What do they do to get it? Now that's interesting."

He gave us one assignment where we were asked to create a five- to seven-page screenplay inspired by a short story. The story had two characters--a pregnant young woman and a man who meets her one winter afternoon at a mill in a small town, and falls in love with her. And we were to use no dialogue.

That assignment was almost impossible for me at the time, as I relied on dialogue to tell the story. I wish I could complete the assignment today and give it to him.

But the lesson isn't lost. I will remember his words,"...someone wants something. They may not say a word. What do they do to get it? Now that's interesting," as I write envision the story, and with every word I write.

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