As much as I loved it for its characters and situations, my first screenplay turned out to be 132 pages long, twelve pages over the 120 page limit for screenplays.  I knew that I had to cut it down to size and began the editing process.  I came to the conclusion that I was trying to throw too much into one screenplay.  As an excited amateur, I tried to stuff all these ideas I had into 120 pages, and it wasn’t going to work. I also found that many elements of the story weren’t working together.  I was trying to force a lot of situations that just didn’t seem all that natural.

DO I NEED FRANK?

One thing I noticed in particular was my struggle to close a character’s storyline.  His name was Frank, and he was supposed to be ultimately revealed as a figment of the protagonist’s imagination, a fractured creation of his mind due to the trauma of the experiences we see him go through.
I found it wiser to question whether or not I needed Frank. He was something that I fumbled with, something that just would not fit.  It was in my issues with Frank that I realized something important.  Frank may have been memorable, but he was extraneous to the overall plot.  He was a shortcut to explain certain things about the protagonist.  I had taken the cheap way out.  And because of that, ultimately Frank was cut out of the screenplay, and the story reworked.  The lesson that I learned here: All characters must exist for a reason, and a good one.

So, to elaborate on the topic of those who inhabit the world you are creating for an audience: my expertise is in the creation of unique and interesting characters.  These characters are fueled by my real life observations of all the people around me.  By simply opening up my eyes and ears, I overhear little tidbits of conversations of real people who are leading real lives, all with very authentic and genuine emotions.  I like to think that each individual is just that: an individual.  I find out what makes them unique, what drives them to do the things that they do.
In learning these things about a person, you can create a character in the same way.  Use your imagination.  Why does your protagonist do the things he does, why are those emotions in his heart?  Keep asking yourself why.  In the same way that you get to know a person, become very intimate with your character.

THE ROUNDABOUT WAY

Great characters are not all a good screenplay needs.  As great as I was at introducing quirks and writing a unique voice for each of my characters, my screenplays often lacked a strong structure.

I’m a very verbose and structureless person.  And it’s reflected in my writing and my screenplays.  Considering that it’s in my nature to tell stories in a way that are rather indirect and in a roundabout way, changing my writing style was one of my greatest challenges.  If you asked me how to get to the Trump International Hotel in Manhattan, I’d probably tell you that you could go take the D train to 59th St-Columbus Circle stop.  I know this because I used to work the area as an outside salesman.  You get up from the station, and look north.  Across the street and down a block is a store that I made my first sale for that company.  And boy, let me tell you, it was quite a thrill.  From that day on, I decided that I would become the best salesman ever and learn to close 90% of the time.  That’s how I ended up coming across this book entitled Influence, which I bought on Amazon.  Did you know that Amazon has some of the best prices?  You can even get free shipping and…..

And somewhere along the way, I’d forget to tell you precisely how to get there.  Though you’d end up with a great story about my experience as a salesman, you’d also probably be thinking, “Okay…well, that’s great, but how do I get to the hotel?”

The same goes for your screenplay: each moment in your screenplay must be moving towards something.  Your screenplay may have great character depth, but if those characters have no clear direction, your audience will become uninterested and bored as they watch you wander around with the hero in a disjointed fashion.  As such, you have to create a compelling and dramatic story.  Remember to ask yourself, where am I going with this scene?  Does it enhance the drama?  What does it show the audience?

A screenplay is not just pages and pages of dialogue taking place in various locations.  Nor is it simply a pair of talking heads.  It is the blueprint for a film, the culmination of dramatic story telling and compelling characters.  It is an emotional experience.  It is cinema.

INT. LUANNE’S APARTMENT – DAY

Later that day I meet up with Luanne and tell her about my dream.  I am a little hesitant to tell her about the extended hug.  But I tell her everything and lay it out for her, shot by shot.  As I finish recounting my dream to her, she replies with a sophomoric, “Ewww…”  I was right: she’s not very sensitive.  I make a mental note: if I ever need an insensitive and unfeminine figure in my screenplay, I’ll look to Luanne.

-Terry Ip
Self-styled perennial student of film working towards a career with a pension.

Aspiring screenwriter Terrence ponders over a question that has bugged all of us at some point: ”Is screenwriting for me?”

Post: Terrence
Editor: Cleo Mees

The bustling streets of lower Manhattan. Ubiquitous blue planks of wood, held up by rusty bars of steel. A pedestrian crowd waves in and out of the shade falling from the skyscrapers.

CU of LUANNE, emerging from the crowd.

PULL BACK to reveal her blue sunflower-print dress. With a big smile, she waves from across the street.

Luanne walks against the crowd and crosses the street to meet ME. We hug for a long time. She gives me a warm grab of the arms. I relax into her and hold on tight. But she breaks off contact and I slouch, rejected.

She walks off and disappears back into the crowd.

LONG SHOT of me, standing still as the crowd floods around me. I become indiscernible. CUT TO BLACK.

Fade in.

This is me waking up from a dream. For the longest time, I have dreamed in a cinematic format. From framing to camera angles to cuts and fades, even sound mixing, my dreams were the stuff of film.

I only started becoming cognizant of these little quirks when I stumbled across the special features on some DVD that I can no longer recall.  It talked about framing shots, creating movement, and a lot more.  I had no idea what a lot of these cinematic principals were at the time, but it certainly opened up my eyes to the true art of motion picture.  After watching those special features I understood that every frame of that movie was by design.  Every shot, every cut, every dolly in and every close up, they were put there for a reason.

When Netflix blessed me with a service center that was not 5 miles away from me, I became obsessed with movies.  I loved rating the movies that I watched.  After all, Netflix did provide viewing suggestions based on your ratings.  By the end of a couple of months, I had rated over 800 movies, and within a year I had watched and rated more than a thousand movies.  At first, they merely served as entertainment, sometimes a distraction from the hustle and bustle and pain of daily life.  But then I started to become more of a discerning consumer.  I started to take an active interest in films.  I started noticing how there would often be shots of actors only from the chest up.  Sometimes one actor’s face would fill nearly the entire frame.  And then sometimes their presence on the screen was a small one, a small dot in the center of an aerial shot.

IS SCREENWRITING FOR ME?

Not having a formal education in film as an art form, I was a self-proclaimed student of film by way of self-study.  My education consisted of my own observations and notes about the hundreds of movies I had watched…Until the day came when I had to register for classes at my college.  It wasn’t a liberal arts college, so I was rather excited to see that there was a new class being offered.  It was Drama 106: Introduction to Film Appreciation.  Boy was I ecstatic!

Throughout the semester, we watched and studied films like The Cabinet of Dr. Galligari, Citizen Kane, Nosferatu, and surprisingly even The Graduate.  As we progressed through the syllabus, I gained a new appreciation for film.  I came to learn the lingo used in film and why we see two-shots, close-ups, how high angles and low angles are used.  I learned about mise en scene, lighting, the use of sound.  I absorbed all of this new knowledge with a great enthusiasm and appreciation.

Shortly after the semester’s end, I began penning a screenplay.  I noticed that the format felt incredibly natural to me.  Scenes started with a time and a place, new characters were introduced, dialogue was written.  The flow of it came easily – everything just seemed to make sense in a movie.  In fact, I saw my life as fitting into little scenes.  Before entering a classroom, I thought to myself, INT. CLASSROOM – DAY.  People became characters to me, and I studied them as such. I remembered bits and pieces of people I saw, be they bums on the street corner or a pretty lady in the New York City subway.

The question this leads us to is, how do you know if screenwriting is for you?  It may not come as naturally to you as it did for me.  I feel that the only way to see if the format is a good fit for you is to go and try to write one.  Just write out a story that you’d like to tell and put it into a screenplay format.  Also, find something that interests you, something that you’re passionate about.  Authenticity comes from real experience and expertise.

-Terry Ip
Self-styled perennial student of film working towards a career with a pension.

The biggest movie out of Australia since AUSTRALIA is a simple tale of pen-friendship that can’t be seen in IMAX nor 3D. MARY & MAX comes in… Clayography.

The feature length follow-up to the 2004 Academy Award Best Animated Short Film winner HARVEY KRUMPET, MARY & MAX opened Sundance earlier this year.

M. Rodriguez spoke with writer-director Adam Elliot and producer Melanie Coombs about the writing process, festival fun and the move from short to long form claymation.

Interview by M. Rodriguez
Editor: Cleo Mees

TSD: I’m curious about your writing process – do you storyboard? Because I understand that a lot of animators prefer to storyboard and then write a script.

AE: No, I’m the other way round. I’m obsessed with the script. A lot of writers start with the three act structure and the plot, and then add detail. I start with the detail, and hopefully there will be a plot by the second draft. I start by thinking, “I want to have snails in this film – how am I gonna get snails in there?” So I have all these ingredients to thread together and that takes time.

I use a lot of adjectives in my scripts. I read other short film scripts and think to myself, where are the adjectives? “The man walked through the door…” That’s boring! How about, “The man with the long grey beard walked through the broken door”? I probably overuse adjectives. I don’t like to leave things out, I like the script to be as jam-packed as possible.

TSD: Why did you write your own script and not choose to work with a collaborator?

AE: I’m just too selfish. Even collaborating with animators and cinematographers, I found it difficult. We had script assessors and Melanie’s the script editor. But I think it’s the one part of the process where you have absolute control. Once we got into the studio I had to learn to collaborate and give away a bit more. And writing the script is the part I enjoy the most.

“A lot of writers start with the three act structure and the plot, and then add detail. I start with the detail, and hopefully there will be a plot by the second draft.”

TSD: Is there any difference in writing a script for claymation?

AE: No, when I write the script I imagine the characters as real. I think that keeps the characters more authentic. Some animators start with a drawing, whereas I’ll think of my pen friend, who the film is based on. If Disney are at one end, I’m at the other [end of animation productions]. There are no magic fairies in my scripts. It’s all about trying to create characters in a real, grounded world that we all identify with.

TSD: Do you describe how the characters would react and what their expressions are in the script?

AE: More so in the storyboards – where I do a lot of facial expressions. The storyboard is an elaboration of the script, but that’s more for the camera department and the animators. And it’s also a way to think up visual humour.

TSD: How did you enjoy yourself at Sundance?

AE: (Laughing) You don’t enjoy yourself at Sundance. It would have been more enjoyable has we gone as short-filmmakers or as people just going to see films – or even as filmmakers whose film wasn’t opening night. It was so much hype, so much expectation!

My job as director was to tell people, “It’s just a film. It has flaws.” And because it was cold outside [the theatre] everyone was packed inside. Everyone had had way too many coffees, and people were worrying about who would buy the film… The whole experience was just so intense!

The part I did enjoy about Sundance was the question-and-answer sessions after the screenings. Because I knew then that, even though we didn’t make all the reviewers and all the critics happy, we’d made the most important people happy – the audience. We knew that at least in America, or at least in Mormon country, we’d got a positive response.

MC: It was absolutely extraordinary! To think that we’re Australians, and that in its 25th year… Sundance is the touchstone festival for independent filmmakers around the world.

As a short film and documentary filmmaker, you’re always struggling to get noticed. But here, coming out of your party on the opening night and already finding a review that someone has posted at 2 a.m. is just like, “Whoa, we’re in a different world now.” I think we didn’t get nervous because it all felt so surreal.

“I think it’s your job as a director to be engaging and to really push the boundaries. My aim with Mary and Max was to create a lead character that you would never have seen anywhere else.”

TSD: This is a melancholic story about loneliness and acceptance with human simplicity and humour in your dialogues. How do you get that down on paper?

AE: In all my films, I try to get the balance between humour and pathos, and to get the right rhythm of storytelling – you know, having a bleak moment and then a comic moment without the audience getting distracted. And it’s really just an intuitive thing – writing, rewriting, reviewing and getting feedback.

The example I always use is my short film, Cousin. There’s a static shot where Cousin is standing in a picture frame with his mum and dad, and we hear that his parents have been killed in a car accident. At the same time, Cousin is wearing a t-shirt that says, “I Yodel for Jesus”. Audiences never know what to do with that moment, because they see the t-shirt and want to laugh, but they’re also hearing that information. You know, it’s like they’ve been belted over the head twice. But it keeps them awake, engaged, and it challenges them.

I think it’s your job as a director to be engaging and to really push the boundaries. My aim with Mary and Max was to create a lead character that you would never have seen anywhere else. Parts of him you’ve seen in other characters, but not as a whole. The same goes for Cousin, although Asperger’s is in a lot of films now and autism is in a lot of documentaries. It’s out there, and that‘s great because it means that people are being educated about the phenomenon.

MC: Adam’s storytelling style is the voice of an innocent in a complicated world. It’s not naïve. It’s like when you see a kid on a bus that suddenly screams to his mum, “Mum, mum! Why’s that man only got one leg?” The kid doesn’t know that’s rude. He’s just saying it because it’s true.

I first met Adam when I saw Cousin. After the film I went up to him said, “That’s the best film I’ve ever seen about a disability.” It was only a four minute animation, but it was just so honest. It wasn’t politically correct in that mean spirited way. It was like, that’s right, he does have a funny arm that moves up and down. People with cerebral palsy just have that sort of thing, and to not say those things is also incorrect.

TSD: I also noticed you’ve really exuded that irreverent Australian humour in the film…

AE: Yeah, the self-deprecating thing – which is something I think Americans struggled with in the film. What did they say? “Too many scatological references.” And they’re right, there are too many poo-gags. They’re for the kids… [laughs] No, but it is being irreverent and trying, again, to push the boundaries. My dad was an acrobatic clown, and he always said, “Don’t get carried away with being too serious in your films. There’s nothing wrong with being an entertainer.”

MC: The thing about America is that they don’t have the history of Wallace and Gromit, so they associate claymation with a pre-school, Bob-the-Builder kind of thing. So, for them to see Asperger’s syndrome, and references to prostitutes and homeless people and drugs and alcohol and attempted suicide, and homosexuality [in the film] – all the phobias… Well, it actually reminds me of a comment we got when we took Harvie Krumpet to L.A.

“The animation community is very open – we share our secrets – and these cameras had only just come out, so we were the guinea-pigs, basically.”

At one of the studios’ Q&A sessions, a woman put up her hand and asked, “Who let you make that [film]??” I loved that comment! It was just so American. I mean, she clearly loved the film but she must have been thinking, “I love this, but how on earth did it happen?” The heart towards independent filmmaking is different in every country, but independent films do not have any government subsidy (in the U.S.), and the idea that you can make a film purely for cultural reasons and get government support for it is something they think we’re really fortunate to have.

I tried to explain to them how difficult it is – that it’s really competitive and only 25 films get made a year [in Australia], and so on – and they sort of understand that, but the idea that we could put every phobia that Adam wanted in the script without someone telling us, “Oh, you can’t say that!” is still something they’d say we’re very fortunate.

TSD: I hear you got Aardman’s attention, and they came to visit you on set?

AE: Yeah, they sent a technician over because they’re about to go fully digital. They’re not going to use their film cameras anymore – so we’re told, and they just wanted to look at our system because there weren’t any other feature films being done in the same way. Our post-producer, Henry Karjalainen set up the system himself so that we got very high production values at a fraction of the cost. And they were fascinated as to how we did this! We were using local software from people down in Melbourne. Because most of the money was state-government money [Victoria], we were under a mandate to do things as locally as possible. The animation community is very open – we share our secrets – and these cameras had only just come out, so we were the guinea-pigs, basically. They wanted to see whether we’d died [filming] or not.

TSD: How do you feel that the process has changed since creating your first film, Uncle, and now that you’re doing it digitally?

AE: I don’t’ animate anymore, but our animators on Mary and Max said they found it liberating. They could see everything in high definition; they didn’t have to wait for their rushes to come back from the lab – they could see it within minutes of it being finished. So, suddenly they could do things that they never were able to do before. And that’s great for the whole worldwide animation community.

When I think of my first film, Uncle, which was shot on a little 16mm Bolex camera, it was a very different process. And it’s evolved for the better. When I left film school – I was at the VCA – I was told I was pursuing a “dying art form”.

TSD: But you were pushed to do Uncle as a claymation, right?

AE: Yeah, Uncle was accidental. I was going to do the film as a 2D animation, and there were seven other animators doing 2D films. There was a spare studio and a spare camera, and they said to me, “We think your film would look better as clay.” So I said, “Alright,” and off I went. My dad had a hardware shop at the time, so I got all the cheap wood and nails and glue… not thinking that this is what I would do! I thought I’d do kids TV or kids animation – something where I’d get paid well.

TSD: But you’re happy doing this?

AE: Yeah, some of my friends are 2D animators and I say to them, “How can you sit in front of that screen all day??” I love to get my hands dirty – I love cooking and I love gardening. If I don’t have stuff under my fingernails, I don’t feel alive.

“So I went out and bought a bottle of red wine, then I said to Adam, “Now, we never have to make it – it’s just for these meetings tomorrow, but by the time we finish this bottle of red, we’ve got to have a story.” That night I prodded away at him, until he started, “Well, I’ve got this pen-friend…” And I said, “Gold! Let’s go.”

TSD: Adam, you mentioned earlier that you left the animation to six animators [for Mary and Max]– were you very hands on during the shoot?

AE: No, but I did a lot of approving. I was always the first to arrive at the studio and the last to leave, and I did seven-day weeks for a year and a half, which was exhausting. But I’m a control freak and I have to have absolute control over everything, from a knife and a fork to a giant set. I even did all the character designs. I mean, in hindsight I could have let go of some of that. But because it was my first feature, I didn’t want it to look that different to Harvey Krumpet. I wanted people to look at Max and think, “That looks like an Adam Elliot drawing”. [Laughs] Someone worked out that it would take 225 years for me to make Mary and Max all by myself.

TSD: And how have you seen yourself evolve as a filmmaker, from your first film to your first feature now?

AE: I think it’s only in the last couple of years that I’ve been able to look back at my scripts and see why I’ve done them the way I have, and how they’ve become what they are. I think really good writers are angry writers. And I don’t like injustice. In the school playground I was always the one befriending the bullied kids – the kids that had autism or that were racially ridiculed, that didn’t have many friends. I wanted to learn more about them, and I wanted to defend them. So I think what I’m trying to do now with my films is to fight on their behalf – and entertain at the same time – without being preachy or too dogmatic. And I think audiences appreciate it.

MC: To me, all of Adam’s work is about accepting difference. The important thing his work says is that being open to difference is hard, but it’s ultimately totally rewarding. It’s what makes life worth living. And everyone, no matter how revoltingly different we all are or feel, craves love and acceptance.

Also, so often in life now, you’re being told to privilege either financial success or a romantic relationship. What about friendship? When your lover leaves you, who do you call? This film is really about the power of friendship in our lives and how important it is for us all.

TSD: Melanie, how did you get Adam to sit down after Harvie Krumpet winning that Oscar and write a feature? Because I know after Harvie, Adam was hoping to make a television series…

MC: Well, the studios actually said no to that idea. The way things work in the US is that they plan everything for you, you can’t do much yourself. After Harvie, our US agents said to us, “We’ve got all these studios lined up for you to meet. What are you going to pitch?” We said that we were thinking of a 13×5 minute series. To which they said “No, no, no! You’ve got to have a feature idea. Just come up with one just to meet these people.”

So I went out and bought a bottle of red wine, then I said to Adam, “Now, we never have to make it – it’s just for these meetings tomorrow, but by the time we finish this bottle of red, we’ve got to have a story.” That night I prodded away at him, until he started, “Well, I’ve got this pen-friend…” And I said, “Gold! Let’s go.” So we based it on his real relationship, except we made Adam – Mary, an eight-year-old girl to add a fictional element to it.

TSD: Well that was easy, I thought it would be hard because you said Harvie took you all over the world and you got so many different offers…

MC: Well, it was only because I literally told Adam, “I promise you we never have to make it.”

The studios didn’t really want us to make the film at first. What they would really like Adam to do is a children’s film. Which wouldn’t really be an Adam film, it would be a kiddie claymation. And that’s not why we’re filmmakers. We’ll probably never be super-rich, but we’re filmmakers because we genuinely believe in the passioned project of being Australian storytellers, and in the project of an Australian cultural life.

TSD: What do you do in your free time? I know you are passionate about meeting children or people who have disabilities. Do you get involved in these communities?

AE: After the Oscar win, many charities asked me to become associated with them, but I quickly learned that it’s best to focus on just one charity. I was approached by the Disabled Film Festival – I don’t use the word “disabled” a lot but that’s what they choose to call themselves – and I became their patron. I raise awareness about their festivals and their films, and I also get to meet some amazing filmmakers.

I don’t have a lot of spare time – but I enjoy cooking, and I’d love to spend some time drawing again. You just become a slave to your film. Mary and Max has been like we’ve just given birth and I’ve got a bit of post-natal depression. I’m about to go on my first two-week holiday in three years, but after that we’ve got Berlin and all this other publicity events. You’ve got to sell the film, of course, and it’s a tough film to sell. Melanie often says that with this type of subject matter is not easy, but it is ultimately rewarding if you stick with it.

MARY & MAX opens in Australia on 9 April.

Last year she worked with Michael Hauge as part of Inscription.

Last month Tracy traveled South to attend the NSC in Adelaide.
As a guest blogger on The Story Department, she gives us a de-brief.

“As an unproduced writer it was a huge outlay to attend the National Screenwriter’s Conference in Adelaide in February. Did I get my $1,000 worth? You bet.

I didn’t know a single person before I arrived. I departed clutching handfuls of business cards and felt like I’d found a new family.

The main thing that impressed me was how generous everyone was with their time. You could walk up to anyone, introduce yourself and have a chat. Tell me where else in the world you would find such diverse and interesting characters as Rolf de Heer (Ten Canoes) and Darren Star (Sex in the City). Clayton Jacobson (Kenny) and David Weiss (Shrek). Mike Bullen (Cold Feet) and Jan Sardi (Shine).

The Micro-Mentorships (30 mins) were also useful if feverishly short. Tim Ferguson gave me some great advice about Romantic Comedies and followed it up with some interesting articles.

Here are some tips I picked up from the speakers that will stay with me.

• Detail drives a character (Clayton Jacobson, Kenny).

Remember the scene when Kenny visits his Dad with the boy and has napkins placed on the floor, under his feet? The shot is very brief, and Clayton knew some people would miss it, but this tiny moment reveals so much of the Dad’s character.

• A script is a document in seduction.

So says Rolf de Heer. He doesn’t write a word until his plot and story are fully thought through. And he does this by using cards that he sticks up on a wall. The cards give him the flexibility to play around with structure and content, and to feel happy with the story before he commits a single word to paper.

• If you’re stuck, make a Vomit Pass. David Weiss (Shrek).

If you’re having trouble writing a scene, just get some thoughts down. Don’t worry if they’re bad. When you come back to it later, it’s much easier to evaluate something and make it work better than having a blank space in front of you.

• Choose crispy dialogue. David Weiss.

Avoid letting a character say exactly what she is feeling. For example, don’t say in dialogue ‘I’m afraid.’ Say it differently. What about ‘Would you mind if I slept with the light on?’

• Network or attach yourself to someone who can.

I found a friend in Helen who is a network demon. Watching enviously as she deftly worked the room, I started to try by myself. All it takes for the more shy amongst us is a deep breath, a smile and an outstretched hand.

Gripes? Not many. I wish it could have gone on for another morning. I wish that I had spoken to Jan Sardi. I wish I could have done an Hermione Granger and used the Time Turner to attend all the sessions. But most of all, I wish everyone the very best with their projects and can’t wait to see how far they’ve progressed when the conference happens again in 2011.”

-Tracy Richardson

Although he has had numerous box office successes, in my view he has never equalled the overall excellence of THELMA & LOUISE (1991). It is a fabulous movie and an outstanding debut script by first-timer Callie Khouri.

Here is an attempt to analyse the structural dynamics of this wonderful screenplay and film.

ACT ONE

SEQUENCE A (8.5mins): Preparations.

00.00 Opening Titles: Landscapes that express freedom.
02.00 At diner, Louise is serving & advises against smoking, then smokes.
03.00 Thelma at home, hasn’t asked husband yet for permission to leave.
03.30 Darryl patronises Thelma, humiliates her, she still doesn’t ask.
04.30 Darryl leaves in sportscar, shouts at workmen.
05.00 T. calls L.. After the manager’s innuendo, they arrange their departure.
06.00 Louise leaves, montage shows both getting ready.
07.00 Louise picks up Thelma, who carries half household with her. Polaroid.

SEQUENCE B (13mins): Departure and disaster.

08.30 Driving. T.: I didn’t ask. L.: You get what you settle for (i.e. Darryl).
09.30 Thelma is smoking, looking in the mirror: “I’m Louise.”
10.30 Dusk, Silver Bullet, going to have fun. Different responses to Harlan.
13.30 Louise is reserved, it makes Thelma nervous. Harlan shouts drinks.
15.00 Dancing, line dancing. Thelma dances with Harlan.
16.30 Louise back to table, Thelma keeps dancing. Louise wants to leave.
17.30 Thelma is unwell, they go outside. Louise is looking for Thelma.
18.30 Harlan: Not gonna hurt you. T. resists. He hits her and attempts rape.

19.30 Louise appears with gun. “Suck my dick”. She shoots. (I.I.)

SEQUENCE C (11mins): Figuring out what to do.

21.30 They escape. L. blames T. for her behaviour. Police won’t believe them.
22.30 Louise vomits. Trucks & noise everywhere. Let’s have a coffee & plan.
24.00 They try and figure out what to do. Thelma calls Hal. Nobody home.
25.30 Detective Hal with waitress: Harlan deserved it! She defends T&L.

27.30 No money. Need to figure out what to do.
28.30 They argue. Go to police? Not ready to go to jail.
29.30 T. at the pool, L. calls Jimmy for money. Do you love me?
31.30 L. & T. leave in a hurry. They have decided to run. (PP1)

END OF ACT ONE: The decision has been made to go on the run.

ACT TWO

SEQUENCE D ( 8.5mins): Organising money.

32.30 Hal’s boss: Possibly interstate. Let the FBI in on this.
33.00 Louise: Let’s go to Mexico. Are you up to this? I’m going.
34.30 L. calls Jimmy. He will send the money. I miss you, Peaches.
36.00 T. calls Darryl, he’s watching a game, judging but not concentrating.
39.00 Young handsome JD asks for a lift. Thelma is keen, Louise says no.

SEQUENCE E (10.5mins): To Oklahoma for the money pick-up.

41.00 Hal is on the case, looks up Louise’s car: ‘66 Ford Thunderbird.
41.30 Louise doesn’t want to Mexico go through Texas.
43.00 Hal is investigating at Louise’s place.
43.30 Thelma and Louise are enjoying the ride.
44.00 Detective Hal is investigating at Louise’s Diner.
44.30 They see JD again; Thelma begs to pick him up. Louise gives in.

45.00 Detective Hal interviews Darryl, who is more concerned about himself.
46.00 JD to T.: Your husband sounds like a real asshole. T: he is. They bond.
47.00 JD warns them, they avoid an approaching police car.
47.30 Hal has info on Thelma’s gun etc.
48.30 They go to pick up the money. Jimmy is there, he books rooms.
50.00 JD leaves them and each go to their rooms. L. to T.: Guard the money.

SEQUENCE F (16mins): Mid Sequence, cross-cut.

51.30 Jimmy is jealous & violent. He calms down and proposes to her.
54.00 JD knocks on door. T invites him in. They have fun and make love.
1.00.0 Over breakfast Louise and Jimmy kiss goodbye.
1.04.3 T. arrives: Finally got laid properly. Left money in the room. Run!

1.06.0 Money gone. Louise breaks down. End of Thelma’s innocence.
1.07.0 T. cheers L. up, takes control and drives. Move! (MPR)

SEQUENCE G (10.5mins): Thelma has found her calling.

1.07.3 Hal & Co with Darryl. When she calls, be gentle. Women love that shit.
1.10.0 Thelma robs Store. Drive us to Mexico.
1.11.0 FB: This is a robbery // Hal & Darryl watching. Everybody is shocked.

1.12.3 Thelma brags about her robbery. Found your calling. You’re Disturbed.
1.14.0 Sexist truck driver. They think we like it.
1.15.0 Police now with Jimmy.
1.16.0 Louise with old man, gives him her jewellery.
1.17.0 L.: murder one, little defense. T.: How do you know all these things?

SEQUENCE H (8mins): Fugitives.

1.18.0 Hal blames T.’s robbery on JD. They wouldn’t have otherwise.
1.22.0 Thelma calls Darryl. He knows. L. calls, asks for police.
1.23.3 Hal knows about Mexico. T. talked. L. angry: We’re Fugitives now.

SEQUENCE I (11.5mins): Speeding towards Mexico.

1.26.0 Darryl with cops changes channel, annoys cops, changes back.
1.26.3 Driving through National Park by night.
1.28.3 Dawn. Passing sexist trucker.
1.31.0 T.: Texas. You was raped. L.: I’m not talking about that.
1.32.0 Stopped by cop: clocked at 110km/h. In trouble.

1.34.3 Thelma with gun, shoots radio. They put cop in trunk.
1.37.0 Thelma: I’ve got a knack for this shit.

SEQUENCE I (5.5mins): Dead or alive.

1.37.3 Hal: Brains only get you so far & luck always runs out.
1.38.0 Louise has doubts & regrets. Thelma justifies. Having fun, not sorry.
1.39.0 L. calls Hal: charge w/ murder;knows about Texas. Dead or alive?
1.41.3 Not giving up. Not making any deals. Dead or alive. (PP2)

END OF ACT TWO: Their fate has been sealed. T.’s arc complete.

ACT THREE

SEQUENCE J (6.5mins): Revenge.

1.43.0 Thelma feels awake.
1.44.0 They see macho trucker again. Ready to get serious? Yes.
1.46.0 They ask for an apology. Fuck that! They shoot, truck explodes.

1.48.3 Drive on.

SEQUENCE K (8.5mins): Freedom at last

1.49.3 (POV) Stoned bicycle rider, smoke into air hole.

1.50.3 Police helicopter: closing in.
1.51.3 Police cars chasing them, they go off the road. Cars follow.
1.54.0 Temporarily shake them off under bridge. Eerily quiet.

1.54.3 Thelma: crazy, first chance to express yourself.
1.56.0 They reach the edge of a cliff: Grand Canyon. Hal appears in heli.

1.57.3 Surrounded. Hal lands. Orders to surrender.
1.58.3 Louise: not giving up. Thelma: let’s keep going. (C&R)
2.00.0 They drive, hal runs.

I.I.: Inciting Incident (or Call to Adventure)
PP1: Plot Point 1 (Act 1 Turning Point / Crossing the 1st Threshold)
MPR: Mid Point Reversal
PP2: Plot Point 2 (Act 2 Turning Point / Ordeal & Reward)
C&R: Climax & Resolution (Resurrection)

PROTAGONIST

In my view, Thelma is the protagonist, for the following reasons:

1. She is prominent in the setup and we empathise/sympathise with her.
2. We may hope that she will become less submissive and find freedom.
3. Her story has a clear Inciting Incident (a major event happening to her).
4. She has a clear Mid Point Reversal.
5. She has a clear character arc.

Interestingly, if you look at Thelma’s story in isolation, the first half (before the Mid Point Reversal) she is a passive protagonist, mostly just following Louise. Only after that, she becomes an active protagonist. This passivity is counteracted by Louise’s initiative until the Mid Point.

ACT STRUCTURE

The Inciting Incident is clear: two major events happen to Thelma: Harlan’s rape attempt and Louise’s shooting Harlan. Although Louise later argues that Thelma started it because of her behaviour, Thelma’s actions are two degrees away from the Inciting Incident (Harlan’s death) that kicks off the story. Therefore, this is clearly an event happening to Thelma, not an action by her.

This leaves Thelma with the necessity to act.

The 1st Act Turning point is more problematic: Louise takes the initiative, Thelma agrees by following her. After a period of considering their options, they have decided to go on the run. Although the destination won’t be known until later, Act Two is now set in motion. In my view, this act break is reinforced by the next scene in which we learn the FBI will be on the case. This increasing of the stakes by showing the antagonist’s power is a frequently used technique to open Act Two.

The Mid Point Reversal is at the same time a reversal of fortune (loss of the money) and proof of Thelma’s change of heart. She is now committed to her inner journey towards finding her true identity (or essence) and freedom. Two events trigger this: her first fulfilling sexual experience and the realisation that she has failed to take responsibility by constantly relying on Louise. The evidence in her commitment lies in two immediate actions: she drives the car and robs the store.

The crisis occurs when they learn about the major setback that Hal knows where they are heading and he will charge them with murder. It is a crisis moment for both women: Louise has doubts and regrets, so Thelma has to make a choice. Her newly found strength is the Reward, as well as the fact that Louise hasn’t made a deal with the police. It is a strong Ordeal moment as 1) the image of death occurs when they realise it is now a matter of life or death and 2) it signifies the death of Thelma’s old identity.

At the climax, two important actions take place: 1) Thelma demonstrates her new strength when she stands up for herself in the confrontation with the sexist truck driver and 2) by saying “Let’s keep going” she commits to her new principles with her life and seals it with the ultimate act of defiance.

POINT OF VIEW

After the characters have been set up, every scene has the hero (Thelma) or the antagonist (Harlan/the police), except perhaps one or two.

Any scenes that are not told from Thelma’s POV either add to the jeopardy (as the police makes progress) or they provide comic relief (the black cyclist blowing smoke into the trunk with the cop in it).

In a series about screenwriting software, some of the main screenwriting software titles out there will contribute an article to The Story Department.

We open the series with Mark Kennedy, CEO of Celtx.

“Just a few days ago, we released version 2.0 of the Celtx software.

A lot of people don’t quite get what Celtx is about. I guess people see things from their own perspective. If they are screenwriters, they see a screenwriting application, if they are filmmakers, they see a pre-production package, if they are storyboard artists, they see a media application, if they are comic book creators, they see a new tool to help them make the same. And so it goes, each person seeing in Celtx what is useful to them in their own pursuit of creativity.

Don’t get me wrong. That’s all fine by us. In fact, that’s what we hoped would happen. That people would derive their own benefit based on their own needs. We always figured that there were, are, as many different ways to create media as there are users, so we tried to make the Celtx software as flexible as possible.

Thing is, no matter how they work, whether following traditional bottom up approaches to developing their story, or employing non-linear methods, most every media creator uses a lot of the same tools as the next person. It comes down to Story – characters, a situation, and locations.

You see a lot of references these days about the trend towards “convergence”, the merging of many different media formats – film, game, audio – the re-purposing of one media format for adaptation to another format. This in our view, is only describing what has always been the case. Artists have never been afraid to try new forms; to apply, and expand their skills beyond the confines of a single type of media.

Very few, if any, of the existing media software offerings seemed to recognize that fact, choosing instead to pigeon hole users in to one type of media, and through the use of proprietary file formats, and rigid work flows, preventing those same users from expanding beyond their initial canvass.

This, ultimately, is the opportunity we saw – to provide media artists with a tool that would be as expandable as they wanted it to be. One that let them easily re-purpose their media to other formats, and re-purpose their data to other applications.

What was needed was a universally accepted tool. A platform. Whatever you want to call it. But a way for any and all media creators to use one system that supported all of their requirements and let them collaborate without worrying about data formats, and incompatible technologies. Making media is hard enough without being frustrated by files that won’t open or technologies that limit creativity.

This is why Celtx is open source and uses only open standards. It ensures maximum flexibility and a common platform that all media makers can use.

Being an open source software application, Celtx is open to anyone to integrate their own technology in to the system. Just recently, another company developing a script writing offering had indicated that they are developing a tool that ties in to the Celtx software.

That’s the whole idea. To make Celtx the default system for developing media regardless of the specific application you are using to create different aspects of their project. Once saved in a Celtx Project, the media is unassailable, re-purposeable, convertible, and sharable by all.

This usually begs the question of how do we make money from all of this? What motivation do we have to make Celtx a success (other then for altruistic reasons)?

The growing use of web services is an undeniable, and unstoppable trend in the technology business. Every company developing technology sees the writing on the wall. The future is in selling web services that augment the desktop environment.

When the cell phone industry first got going in Europe, everyone agreed (with the help of some gentle persuasion from the regulators) to a common standard. The risk was that without a common standard everyone would go off madly in all directions, balkanizing the cell phone environment in to a myriad of networks, none of which would talk to each other. The result would have been very bad for users.

Instead, an open standard was promulgated, and everyone rushed to innovate off that open standard, introducing new hand sets and new technologies to gain market share. Nokia became one of the best in the industry at being the first to market with new innovations, gaining more and more users. The rest, as they say, is history.

This is what we hope for Celtx – that it continues to establish itself as the open system for creating and sharing media. We may have invented it, but we don’t own it, any more then Nokia owns the 3G cell phone network that they have so successfully leveraged.

The new Celtx Studios is our first commercial offering based on the open standards Celtx software. It is designed to provide media creators with web based access to their media projects, including optimized archiving for sub-versions, collaboration features and the ability to create protected web Previews.

The same offering, or one similar to it, could be developed by anyone using the open source code of Celtx to achieve their goal, just like the Nokia competitor, Ericsson, has also developed new cell phone technologies that work on the same system as Nokia’s.

One open system, many offerings based on that system, all benefiting users. That’s the promise. That’s the future.”

-Mark Kennedy
CEO Celtx

National Screenwriters’ Conference 2009: Kenny – Plumbing the depths
by: David Tiley
Screen Hub
Thursday 26 February, 2009

Before opening a completely charming discussion with Andrew Knight about the writing of ‘Kenny’, Clayton Jacobson produced some very sobering numbers.

Kenny cost $500,000. By the time the film returned $5m, he was still $250,000 in debt. When it made $8m, his investors started to get a return. He has still not seen a dollar. As he said later, if he had cleaned toilets for all those hours he put into the film, he would have doubled his income.

However, he was determined to follow a film through the entire process, from idea to audience, and experience all the details in the middle. He is glad he did this, and learnt a lot, but he wants a fee for service in the future.

Andrew is an experienced comic writer and producer himself, and he brought a knowledgeable eye to the clips, the Jacobson touch, and the craft of comedy. Again and again he reiterated the same point – that the comedy works because it carries an exquisite sense of detail.

Indeed, Clayton acknowledged that the film is a mass of details driven by an underlying theme.

Here are the stages in the development of the project:

1. The Jacobson family assembles a gallery of fabulous characters with a fine sense of the vernacular. (His grandfather, for instance, ran a carnival, and the family lived for years in the big tent after it became unfinancial.) In a film mad family, the children are named after characters and actors. Raised on Jerry Lewis, Clayton sees Midnight Cowboy when he is fifteen and the skies open up.

2. Clayton goes to Swinburne, cleans toilets to pay for the course, graduates in 1984, ends up in high end commercials, develops many friends, writes extravagant features that have nothing to do with life.

3. Younger brother Shane runs a business doing lights for big shows. One day he imitates Ray, an old toilet plumber, and Clayton is fascinated. It sticks in his mind, and liberates in him the ability to write (O cliché! O wisdom!) what he knows about.

4. For months he collects lists of assets – dozens of connections, insights, lines, quirks and resources. Mates who can act, gear that is available, stuff that can go in the film, places that inspire him. Stories he is told. All to take him further than the limited world of his imagination.

5. Inspired by Paul Harris at the St Kilda Film Festival, they use a bunch of experimental rushes as a the basis of a 47 minute mockumentary.

6. They show this to the poo people, who supplied trucks, equipment and support, along with material from Shane. They are enchanted and want a feature film. They even want to put the money up. Clayton can’t see an extended version. Then they tell him about the toilet cleaning convention in the US, and it opens up for him.

At this point, Clayton made many decisions about the script. The first fifteen minutes is all about cramming scatology into the film, so the audience gets tired of it and happy to move on. We, the audience, see Kenny in his disregarded role, plodding on optimistically and decently doing a job we all need, and look down on. We are the antagonists in the film, it is our journey too.

He is driven by the desire “make the audience secretly love every character in the film” which means he gives space and emotional journeys to small sidebar stories and people. This is about an overwhelming ethic. He takes something crucial from Jerry Lewis – his ability to undercut humour with sudden tragedy, and then move on quickly.

He deals with the underlying melancholy of the characters and their crappy social tragedy by giving them an almost unshakeable sense of optimism. Bad things happen but they stay positive.

The film is built around a dual journey – we learn to respect and love Kenny, while he doubts himself. Moves into a crisis, goes to America, resolves the crisis – but it comes back. We want him to respect himself, but that is becoming less and less possible. The crisis is resolved because his father gives him some acknowledgement, and because he decides to reject the desk job which takes him away from his fundamental identity.

He plotted the film around the various events which the real company had, up to and including the trip to America. He invited ideas and talked incessantly about the projecte and its story, refining it as he saw how others responded, sometimes having them tell the story back to him. He recruited actors, mostly in his family – even his pestiferous brother in law who wanted to be in the movies, and developed a simple philosophy of performance: get people to exagerrate themselves, and use their own memories.

He plotted the emotional development in detail, and how the audience responded. He is an editor, and was keenly aware of set ups, and the way the audience can be placed on its feeling journey. This is very important – he managed the viewer’s knowledge of the characters very carefully.

He knew the script thoroughly, and would tell the actors what they were doing on the same day. He mined their knowledge of dialogue, and capacity to improvise. But he always knew the crucial lines and moments that had to be delivered exactly. Again and again, the right details.

Over six months, they shot the basic story, and over the next year they went back to the same events, for additional shots, to put in particular characters, to create atmosphere or simply reshoot.

Then Clayton went into the editing room until he just about went insane. With money, risk and family chaos layered on top.

He is now working on a web series called Mordy Koots: Blazing Angels, Clouds of Fear. Google as the project develops.

David Tiley
David Tiley is the editor of Screenhub, and can be contacted at editor@screenhub.com.au. or 03 9690 6893.

editor@screenhub.com.au
http://www.screenhub.com.au

http://www.screenhub.com.au/ | For Australian screen professionals

Republished with permission

THE EMPOWERMENT THEORY

Machiavelli postulated that man’s quest is for power. He said that no-one is more miserable than a disempowered man.

Ironically, he wrote his thesis as a book called THE PRINCE but when he presented it, hoping to impress his Medici rulers, to reap glory (and status), they hated it. And banished Machiavelli back to his disempowered state.

In his head, the scriptwriter has endless power. He/she is more powerful than Superman, and perhaps as omniscient as a god. The seduction of infinite power could be a valid reason alone to write a script.

Say your job is a janitor during the day. Picking up office workers’ discarded used tissues and dropped apple cores. Scrubbing toilet pans and facing mysterious indelible stains on white towels. But at night your characters (a facet of yourself) have the power to fly, rescue the needy and fall in love…all in your script. Your abilities are only limited by your imagination. You are empowered! Until you have to sell the script, in which case you may crash to earth with a giant thud. But that’s another story.

Immortality is another aspect of empowerment. The gods are immortal, but humans are not. But a film can be everlasting. Especially a classic. So the drive to write a wondrous script appears a way to cheat even death. And that’s mighty powerful.

Often you hear would-be scriptwriters say this, “ I’m going to write a script about my life. It’s more interesting than anything you see on the screen these days”

These are people who desire empowerment in their lives. They want the ability to control the uncontrollable aspects that surround them.

I can’t help but think of the tale of Faust. The doctor who gave his soul for empowerment and immortality. Sadly, it didn’t turn out well.

———————————————–

In conclusion, the scriptwriter is a complex and complicated psychological creature. Often psychically damaged but compelled to do his/her best to repair that inner wound.

We can only wish him/her luck, courage, the avoidance of neurosis and psychosis plus, of course, the occasional brilliant script.

Jack Feldstein.

PART 3: THE ID THEORY

In an average life, most people have a very constricted time. Rarely is a person satisfied with as much sex, food, money and fun as he/she desires. Mostly, society (and health issues) enforce humans to lead somewhat disgruntled lives. Because the alternative, if everyone did exactly what their hearts desired and damn the consequences, would be anarchy and chaos. Plus obesity and death.

The thing inside us all, in our unconscious, that wants to be free, regardless of outcome, is what Freud named the id.

And it wants to play.

Seemingly, scriptwriters have discovered a method to let their id run free. In a script, they can allow their characters to indulge in any taboo behaviour. And with impunity to boot!

Freud said that every person in your dreams is you. And so logically, every character in a script is thus a facet of the scriptwriter. And when characters have sex, kill, and generally do whatever they want, it’s the scriptwriter’s id at work.

Often you’ll meet a scriptwriter and he/she will be bespeckled and timid. And then you’ll read their script and be astonished at what the scriptwriter has written.

You’ve probably heard these comments said about certain scripts…

“I couldn’t continue reading it after he ate his cat.”

“The fact your protagonist does that with his mother makes him unlikeable.”

“I had to look up coprophilia in the dictionary”

Unchecked by the Super Ego ( the disciplinarian part of the unconscious) the id can truly run free. And occasionally some scriptwriters fall prey to their unencumbered id ruining their script. A good example of this is Joe Eszterhas, the writer of BASIC INSTINCT. By the time Eszterhas wrote SHOWGIRLS, a famously bad film, his id had truly and uncontrollably run amok.

Jack Feldstein.

Previously:
PART 1 – THE AUTISTIC FANTASY THEORY
PART 2 – THE NARCISSISTIC THEORY
Next: PART 4 – THE EMPOWERMENT THEORY

And I see why it is not getting the word of mouth it deserves.

My take on the film is primarily from a broad story perspective. I don’t go into dialogue, performance, SFX etc. because I believe they are secondary and ultimately not decisive for the success of the film.

PUSHING IT: ACT STRUCTURE

In my view, Luhrman and Beattie have knowingly taken a few risks. The main one is the four-act structure. Here I mean: four acts according to the traditional three-act model. Not three acts with the second cut in two.

Both the drover and Sarah have a clear four-act journey. Their first objective is to get the cattle to Darwin, which spans most of the film. As a ‘road movie’, it works fabulously to my taste and it is in the second act that the film has its best moments, including some instant-classic scenes such as the cattle stampede threatening Nulla.

Ironically, the expectation of a traditional three-act structure is reinforced by the death of Flynn, perfectly halfway Act Two.

Then, when they reach Darwin and succeed in their objective, a new objective is set for the next act: the return to Faraway Downs. Here is where the structure begins to collapse. Where we had an instinctive feeling we were moving towards the end of the movie, we have exactly one more hour to go.

Act Three climaxes in the realisation that Nulla is in danger and drover decides to save him. The final act is the rescue of Nulla.

UNDERESTIMATED: POINT OF VIEW

The only other major potential problem is the multiple point of view (POV). Each POV has a serious problem.

The film is told through Nullah, Sarah and Drover.

Nullah’s story is that of the stolen generation: he is trying to stay out of the hands of those who want to take him away from his community.
This story is scattered across the movie and it doesn’t really have the power to span the entire film, to keep the three hours together. When we are in Nullah’s POV though, we all empathise with him because we understand this is a struggle for freedom, a basic human instinct. When sifting through the hundreds of promotional photo’s on australiamovie.net, the photo above is the only one I could find of Nullah. It says a lot about how important the filmmakers see this character and his story.

Sarah’s journey does a better job in tying the movie together, for at least three acts. In order to save her cattle station, she and the drover must undertake an epic cattle drive to Darwin. On the way, she falls in love with him. We empathise with Sarah, because we understand her journey, too. Because of the love journey, she is probably the most powerful POV in the movie. Everybody accepts her falling in love with the drover as he represents masculinity, freedom, her future.

Drover’s POV is more problematic. He wants to help Sarah, then falls in love with her. Here is the problem. Sarah Ashley is portrayed as a completely undesirable female. She is uptight, annyoing and sometimes plain naive. Who would desire such a woman, when you can get much better? I don’t believe many audience members would therefore identify with the Drover.

Looking at the three options, Sarah is the most likely character to identify with. After all, Hugh is a desirable male! I would like to see a breakdown of the demographics in terms of audience reception for Australia. It wouldn’t come as a big surprise if it turns out to be a chic flic.

MINOR ISSUES

Like most other good but not great movies, if you drill down you’ll find a lot of issues that keep you from fully participating.

Towards the end of the movie, I was getting totally annoyed by the mind-numbing repetition of the WIZARD OF OZ theme “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”. The original score of Australia is strong enough, there was no need to revert to this blatant recycling. A film’s identity gets lost when it has to rely on references to other movies to get a point across.

Finally, I found the visual style gorgeous until the arrival in Darwin, where things got completely out of control. Effects became totally in-your-face, unnecessary and plain badly executed. Luhrman had almost created a timeless classic piece of cinema, but in the last two acts he blows it.

That said, I enjoyed AUSTRALIA. The word of warning about its length did help me, as I gave it the time and space it needed.

And about the fascinating heated discussions after posting an article from the SMH and one from The Guardian on my Facebook page and Jason Gordon’s article on the Story Department Group at the end of last year, I would like to say the following: I am a Belgian and I look at Australia’s history with a certain level of neutrality. I find it hypocritical of a nation to say sorry but continue to celebrate Australia Day on 26 January. But I don’t have a desire to see social, political and historical issues resolved in the cinema.

In my view, despite its failure to appeal to the mass audience, AUSTRALIA is still one of the most entertaining Australian films of the decade.