FATAL FLAWS OF THE NOVICE SCREENWRITER (PART 3)...

On-the-Nose Dialogue

In other words, don’t tell us exactly what the characters think or feel. For instance:

JOANNE: I don’t love you anymore.
ROGER: Why, Joanne, what are you saying?
JOANNE: I want out of this marriage. I’ll call a divorce lawyer first thing tomorrow. I suggest you move out.
ROGER: I’ll move out first thing in the morning.

You could rewrite that as:

JOANNE: It’s not working, is it?
ROGER: Not for lack of trying. People change, I suppose. I just never thought we would.(a moment) I’ll stay somewhere...until we get things worked out.
JOANNE (a smile): You were always the considerate one.

And here’s another one:

Jane, Frank, and Ken react sadly to the death of their friend Josephine. Frank sobs like a baby.

JANE: This is awful.
FRANK: She’s gone.
KEN: I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s so sad she got on the wrong side of the law. She had so much potential.

Frank grabs a bottle of vodka and drinks.

KEN: Take it easy on the booze, friend.
FRANK: It’s no use. Without Josephine, there’s no living.
JANE: Look, I know it’s bad. If you can’t take it, please get help. Don’t do anything crazy.

Ouch. If that’s not on the nose, then what is? (And no, it wasn’t from a comedic script.) Find ways of imparting information without nailing it on the head (i.e., subtext). Again, it’s perfectly OK to be a little vague, a little mysterious, and keep the reader/audience guessing a bit. So, you could rewrite the above as:

KEN: I’m sorry, Frankie. Sorry for the mistakes she made. Sorry for what she’s putting you through now.

Frank reaches for a bottle of vodka.

KEN: That’ll only make it worse.
FRANK: Without her, how will I --
KEN: You will. Jane and I will help. I promise you that. Just no crazy stuff...okay?

Robotic Dialogue

For example:

JOHN: I do not think I want to go to the theater tonight.
MARY: Why do you not want to go to the theater?
JOHN: I just do not want to go.
MARY: So I have to go alone?
JOHN: You can take your sister. You said you have been wanting to take her.
MARY: Yes, maybe you are right. Maybe I will call her.

People just don’t talk in this stilted, robotic manner. When appropriate (which is most of the time), it’s okay to use a contraction. So, instead of…

"Do not," use "don’t."
"Is not," use "isn’t."
"You have been," use "you’ve been."
"You are," use "you’re."

With this in mind, here’s how I might rewrite the above exchange:

JOHN: I don’t think I’ll go to the theater tonight.
MARY: Why not?
JOHN: I just don’t want to go.
MARY: I have to go alone?
JOHN: Take your sister. You’ve always wanted to take her.
MARY: Yeah, maybe I’ll call her.

Show, Don’t Tell

I’ll often read descriptive passages like this:

Tom and Frank walk down the street together. They are best friends. Frank was also married to Tom’s sister at one time. Right now Tom and Frank are angry with each other.

OK, so how do we film all this? WE CAN’T! This is all stuff you might read in a novel. It doesn’t belong in a screenplay. If Tom and Frank are best pals, show us by their playful brotherly antics. If Frank was married to Tom’s sister once upon a time, then that’s something you can impart via a brief bit of dialogue, or (in another scene) a wedding photo of Frank and Tom’s sister. If Tom and Frank are pissed off with each other, then that’s something you can show with some angry looks and brusque dialogue. Or, for another example:

Sidney sits alone at the counter, eating oatmeal. He is anxious –- a disorder stemming from an abusive childhood.

As written, the anxiety disorder portion of this description is something we can’t film. If we can’t film it, the audience won’t know about it. You could impart this information by showing Sidney wringing his hands, or sweating profusely when he’s in a crowd of people. Then you could have a bit of dialogue later when he talks about hating his father for what he did. You don’t have to nail it on the head with dialogue like, “I hate my dad for molesting me.” No, just a few choice words that clue us in that something went terribly wrong in Sidney ’s childhood. The reader/audience will be able to connect the dots. So…if we can’t SEE or HEAR it, don’t write it!

In Late, Out Early

Most novice screenwriters have a tendency to write fatty script. By this I mean scripts that contain action and/or dialogue that do nothing (or very little) to progress the story.

Let’s say you have a dramatic story about a middle-aged married couple—Tim and Arlene—and they’re on the verge of divorce. They go out to dinner to discuss their marriage and what can be done, if anything, to save it. Here’s one “fatty” way the scene could be written:

INT. RESTAURANT – NIGHT

Tim and Arlene enter, step over to the HOST.

TIM: Two for dinner, please.
HOST: Certainly, sir. If you’ll just follow me...

They follow the Host through the restaurant and to a table in a quiet corner.

HOST: Here you are. Your waiter will be right with you.
TIM: Thanks so much.

The Host moves off. Time and Arlene get comfortable at the table.

TIM: You always liked this place.
ARLENE: Yes. They make a fabulous Greek salad.

The smiling WAITER steps up.

WAITER: Good evening. I’m Paul. I’ll be your waiter this evening. Can I start you off with a cocktail?
ARLENE: I’ll have a white wine, please.
TIM: Make it two.
WAITER: Certainly. Thank you.

The Waiter moves off. Tim and Arlene look about the restaurant, doing whatever necessary to avoid each other’s eyes. Then finally...

TIM: Arlene...

She looks at him.

TIM: Remember when we first met...and how you laughed at every little thing I said and did?
ARLENE: You were always so funny.
TIM: I haven’t heard you laugh in a long, long time.
ARLENE: Life becomes so much more serious the older you get. Sometimes, laughter is a luxury.

Tim looks at her a long moment, then...

TIM: It’s over, sweetheart. We both know it. We just haven’t wanted to admit it.

The Waiter returns with two glasses of wine, sets them down.
WAITER: Have you decided?
TIM: What’s on the specials board tonight?
WAITER: Tonight we have the red snapper with cream of broccoli soup. We also have the pasta primavera. Both are quite excellent.
TIM: Thanks. (to Arlene) Honey...
ARLENE: I’ll have the Greek salad.
WAITER: Excellent choice. For you, sir?
TIM: The primavera sounds great.
WAITER: Very good. Thank you, sir.

The Waiter moves off. Tim and Arlene turn their attention back to each other.

TIM: You can have everything.
ARLENE: Tim –-
TIM: Please, Arlene. You deserve it. I want you to be happy and secure.
ARLENE: Tim, you know I make good money. I really don’t think –-
TIM: No, Arlene, please. I want it this way. You’ve given me fifteen glorious years.

Arlene looks deep into his eyes, lovingly.

ARLENE: It has been glorious, hasn’t it?

OK, so that’s your scene. A good portion of it is unnecessary and can easily be cut. After all, do we really need to see Tim and Arlene enter the restaurant, chat with the host, walk through the restaurant, be seated at their table? ABSOLUTELY NOT! Why? Because none of that stuff does anything to progress the story. Here’s one way you could trim that scene:

INT. RESTAURANT – NIGHT

Tim and Arlene are seated in a cozy corner booth, both doing whatever necessary to avoid each other’s eyes. The smiling WAITER steps up.

WAITER: I’m Paul. I’ll be your waiter this evening. Can I start you off with a cocktail?
ARLENE: I’ll have a white wine, please.
TIM: Make it two.
WAITER: Certainly. Thank you.

The Waiter moves off. Then finally...

TIM: Arlene...

She looks at him.

TIM: Remember when we first met...and how you laughed at every little thing I said and did?
ARLENE: You were always so funny.
TIM: I haven’t heard you laugh in a long, long time.
ARLENE: Life becomes so much more serious the older you get. Sometimes, laughter is a luxury.

Tim looks at her a long moment, then...

TIM: It’s over, sweetheart. We both know it. We just haven’t wanted to admit it.

A poignant moment between them. Then...

TIM: I want you to have everything.
ARLENE: Tim –-
TIM: Please, Arlene. You deserve it. I want you to be happy and secure.
ARLENE: I make good money. I really don’t think –-
TIM: Arlene, please. I want it this way. You’ve given me fifteen glorious years.

Arlene looks deep into his eyes, lovingly.

ARLENE: It has been glorious, hasn’t it?

The Waiter returns with two glasses of wine, sets them down.

WAITER: Have you decided?

Tim looks up at the Waiter, manages a thin, rather sad smile.

TIM: No, I don’t think we’ll be staying.

OK, so it’s not Casablanca —but you get my point, don’t you? Trim your scenes; keep only what’s absolutely necessary to forward the plot, story, motivations, etc.

Characters Sound the Same

Always remember who your characters are. Think of their ages and their backgrounds. Some young dude who grew up in the projects and sells crack, more than likely won’t speak the way a middle-aged Manhattan attorney speaks. For instance:

Fred, a 60-ish lawyer, emerges from his Mercedes Benz. A Mugger jumps him, shoves a knife in his face.

MUGGER: Awright, you $%#^$%#, gimme da money!
LAWYER: Yo, dude, is this a stick up?
MUGGER: Shut yer &$^%#$$ lips and gimme da %&$%#$^& money, man! And gimme that shiny watch too!
LAWYER: Man, this just ain’t right! My momma gave me that watch!
...or the reverse can also be applicable:
MUGGER: Pardon me, but would you mind handing over your wallet?
LAWYER: Oh, would this be a stick up?
MUGGER: Why yes, it is. Do forgive the intrusion. And oh, can I have your watch, too, please?

Or in this scene:

MOMMY puts her SON in his tiny bed with the SpongeBob sheets.

MOMMY: Now dear, I want you to be a good little boy and do what your babysitter tells you.
SON: But Mother, I don’t understand why you must always leave me alone with that woman. She smells just awful!

…or this:

In a courtroom as the Judge admonishes the Suspect.

JUDGE: Look, bub, keep yer trap shut. I’m the Judge ‘round here, see? I make the rules, see? Do what I say or I’ll stick your %#$&#% rear end in a cell for a thousand years!

Again, always remember what type of character you’re writing for…and give them an appropriate voice.

Superfluous Description

Can YOU spot the superfluous description?

Fred takes a seat in a purple chair. He glances at his moderately expensive watch, notes the time. He pulls a large, black comb from his right-side pocket and combs his reddish-gray hair.
Unless it’s pertinent to the storyline, we don’t care what color the chair is, we don’t care how much his watch costs, we don’t care about the size or color of his comb, we don’t care which pocket he pulls it from, and we couldn’t give a rat’s rear end what color his hair is.

Lazy/Dull Description

INT. BAR – NIGHT

It looks like a typical bar...

What does “typical” mean? Is it an upscale bar, like one you’d find in Beverly Hills ? A sleazy bar you’d find down by the docks?

INT. MANSION – DAY

It looks like the house from the TV show Dynasty.

Ugh. Please don’t reference other movies or old TV shows. I’m not saying give us an entire page of description, but give us the essence of the setting—a thumbnail image of what your specific location looks like.

Repetitive Description/Action

A while back I read a script where the main aspect of character description was the verb smiling. Yup, there was quite a lot of smiling goin’ on. He smiled. She smiled. They smiled. They were all smiling. Smile, smile, smile. I’m serious. Virtually every page of the script had at least one instance of someone smiling. There were some pages where you could find six or eight variations of “smile”! So I told the writer, “You need to find other ways to convey characters’ feelings/emotions.” A few months later I did another critique for this writer, a different script, and this was the predominant descriptive term:

He frowned. She frowned. They frowned. They were all frowning. Frown frown frown.

ARRGH!!