Workshop: "Script Writing" by Teh_no
Even if you've never wondered how to write a story in the form of a script, this essay is a great read. It includes excellent examples, both amusing and useful, as well as...um...OTTERS! And it'll definitely leave you asking for more...
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Okay, let’s start off small. First off, you can learn all the real
nitty-gritty from actual screenwriters who get paid for this sort of
thing. Which would you rather do, learn writing by reading fanfic or by
reading literature? Exactly. So, Terry Rossio Ted Elliott’s website
is a good place to start (they wrote Pirates of the Caribbean, in case
you’re wondering), as well as W.C. Martell (he wrote
Invisible Mom. If you were wondering, you certainly aren’t now). Like
writing anything else, a great way to get familiar with this is to find
stories you like and look at how they were written. Simply Scripts has just about
every script ever; find a movie you like and read its script to be
pleasantly surprised. And remember, Shane Black gets to write that way
because he’s Shane Black.
And, for the real basics, (man, I wish I could do this with everything)
you could just listen to what Bruce
Campbell has to say.
But hey, you didn’t come here to hear what all those fancy-pants
Hollywood types have to say, you came to listen to me, right? (Right?)
Oh, intro. Hi, I’m Teh_no. You might remember me from such
scriptfics as The Flash, Birds of
Prey, Nightwing,
Spider-Man
3, and Teen Titans.
Some people might also say that I’m known for excessively pimping my own
works, but I don’t see it.
First off, let’s start with the basics. This is called a slugline.
INT. BATCAVE
It’s basically where the action is taking place. INT. and EXT. mean, as
you may have guessed, interior and exterior, followed by the setting.
INT. WAYNE MANOR - DAY
That tells us that we’re inside Wayne Manor during the day. Of course,
at some point we may travel to somewhere where we don’t know whether
it’s night or day… like OUTER SPACE.
EXT. MOON - TIMELESS
Problem solved. Every time your scene changes location, you need a new
slugline, like so:
INT. WAYNE MANOR - NIGHT
Dick Grayson looks out the window.
DICK: Holy SOS, Bruce, the Batsignal!
Bruce Wayne stands up from his chair.
BRUCE: Quick, Robin, to the Bat-Poles!
Bruce and Dick run to a bust of Abraham Lincoln and trigger a secret
button, causing the bookshelf to open up and reveal two firepoles. Bruce
and Dick ride down them.
INT. BATCAVE - TIMELESS
Bruce and Dick land, now dressed as Batman and Robin.
Next is dialogue. In real movie scripts, dialogue is centered like this,
name in ALL-CAPS over the lines.
BRUCE
Who the hell do you think I am? I’m the Goddamn Batman!
Of course, I’ll just put them in front of a colon, because I’m lazy. I’m
so lazy, in fact, that this is being transcribed by cheap Mexican labor.
Speaking of which, Pedro, you doin’ anything tonight? No, don’t write
that down! Backspace, backspace! Did you delete all of that? Good. Now
start typing this.
Characters are introduced with their names capitalized, followed by a
concise description. Let’s talk a look from screenplays that were
actually made into movies.
The screen is filled by the face of PETER PARKER, a seventeen year
old boy. High school must not be any fun for Peter, he's one
hundred percent nerd- skinny, zitty, glasses.
SUPERMAN stands in his classic outfit, arms folded, gazing intently back
up at the CAMERA which -represents JOR-EL. He is older now. A handsome,
strong man, his intelligence, warmth, and compassion shining through his
clear eyes as the final words of JOR-EL flow through him.
A good description should tell the audience everything they would get
from seeing an actor and watching his performance. Also remember; show,
don’t tell. Give the characters actions to express how they fell, or at
least lines.
Wrong
Bruce staggers out of the Batmobile. He hurts like hell.
Right
Bruce staggers out of the Batmobile. He hurts like hell. He limps his
way to a medicine cabinet and unscrews a bottle of painkillers, then
gulps a few down. That helps a little.
At some point, you may want to use voiceover narration. Don’t overdo
it. Voiceovers should ENHANCE the action, not replace it. It’s true
what they say; action speaks louder than words.
Wrong
Dick stands in his apartment.
DICK: (V.O.) God, I miss Barbara.
Right
Dick stands in his apartment. It’s empty. Quiet. He turns on the TV.
That brings a modicum of noise to bear, which just makes his loneliness
seems more pathetic to him. Finally, he opens a drawer and pulls out a
framed picture. Him and Barbara, in happier times. He smiles momentarily
before the memory turns bitter. Dick puts the picture away and opens
another drawer. His Nightwing costume is waiting for him.
Did you catch that (V.O.)? That means the character is narrating from
some great Sound Booth In The Sky. This is different from (O.S.), which
means offscreen.
INT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT
A CROOK is going through a woman’s purse.
NIGHTWING: (O.S.) Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to take things
that belong to you?
The Crook turns to see Nightwing in the fire escape. Nightwing jumps
down and attacks him.
DICK: (V.O.) I arrested criminals all night, but it didn’t make the pain
go away. Funny, you wouldn’t think knowing that Barbara was waiting for
me at the end of hell would make hell seem any different. It did though.
I guess that’s the secret of hell. You can’t get through it.
And what if someone is talking over a telephone or radio?
Suddenly, Nightwing’s comlink rings. He holds his wrist mic to his mouth.
NIGHTWING: Kinda busy.
BARBARA: (filtered, over comlink) Nightwing, we need to talk. Come to my
place, immediately.
Let’s leave the scintillating saga of Dick and Barbara behind for a
moment to switch tracks to Peter Parker. Remember, every scene should
have a purpose. Your script should be like a shark; it never stops
moving. This even applies to characterization. If two characters are
falling in love, they should be doing it while moving the plot forward.
Otherwise, you get something like the love scenes in Attack of the
Clones. That’s when the audience goes to get their popcorn refilled. If
a scene has no function other than being cool, cut it out.
This scene has a single purpose; giving Peter information about the
Lizard’s plot.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - HALLWAY - DAY
Peter stands outside an apartment, knocking.
PETER: Hello? It’s me, Peter Parker? You buzzed me up.
The apartment opens. Peter walks in.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - WOMAN’S APARTMENT - DAY
The Woman is in a morning gown, drowsy, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
WOMAN: Who are you again?
PETER: Peter Parker. I’m a reporter with the Daily Bugle. I was
wondering if we could talk a little about the Lizard.
WOMAN: What about him?
PETER: He attacked your tour bus. Do you remember any details, anything
at all?
WOMAN: He had a badge on his labcoat.
PETER: What kind of badge?
WOMAN: I don’t know… it was white plastic, except for this patch in the
middle. That was blue.
PETER: The white plastic with a blue patch in the middle? You’re sure?
WOMAN: Yeah, saw it clear as day. Why, is that bad?
PETER: (reassuring) That’s… (screw it) That’s very bad, yeah.
That was pretty boring, right? One thing we can do to improve it is to
make it advance the plot in more than one way; give it multiple
purposes. In the original Spider-Man movie, you’ll remember the Macy
Grey setpiece where the Green Goblin attacked for the first time? That
advanced, obviously, Spider-Man’s story. It also advanced Norman’s story
(he killed the board of directors). It advanced Harry’s story (Mary-Jane
isn’t too attracted to him). It advanced Mary-Jane’s story (she starts
to fall for Spider-Man, aka Peter Parker). Almost the entire cast had
their arcs progressed in one scene. Can you imagine how much screentime
it would’ve taken if all of those plot points were addressed in separate
scenes? Plus, it gives the audience a cool action sequence to keep them
awake.
So, in this case we can advance the story of Peter’s love life by
changing generic woman to love interest.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - HALLWAY - DAY
Peter stands outside an apartment, knocking.
PETER: Hello? It’s me, Peter Parker? You buzzed me up.
The apartment opens. Peter walks in.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - GWEN’S APARTMENT - DAY
Gwen Stacy is waiting for him, dressed comfortably in jeans and a
T-shirt. Peter looks at her a tad too long; he’s never seen her dressed
this casually before.
GWEN: Hey Peter. What blows you this way?
PETER: Work, unfortunately. Daily Bugle thought you would prefer talking
to me than some soulless reporter.
GWEN: Might as well get it out of the way. I’d just assumed you already
got everything from the cops and other witnesses.
PETER: But do you remember any details, anything at all?
GWEN: He had a badge on his labcoat.
PETER: What kind of badge?
GWEN: I don’t know… it was white plastic, except for this patch in the
middle. That was blue.
PETER: The white plastic with a blue patch in the middle? You’re sure?
GWEN: Yeah, saw it clear as day. Why, is that bad?
PETER: It was a radiation badge.
GWEN: But blue is good on a radiation badge, right? Red is bad.
PETER: Blue is worse. It’s called Cerenkov radiation. I have got to go,
but could you call the Nuclear Regulatory Commission? They might want to
know.
But it’s still just two people talking together, so let’s add a few
actions to the scene to really make it pop.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - HALLWAY - DAY
Peter stands outside an apartment, knocking.
PETER: Hello? It’s me, Peter Parker? You buzzed me up.
The apartment opens. Peter walks in.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - GWEN’S APARTMENT - DAY
Gwen Stacy is waiting for him, dressed comfortably in jeans and a T-shirt.
GWEN: Hey Peter. What blows you this way?
PETER: Work, unfortunately. Daily Bugle thought you would prefer talking
to me than some soulless reporter.
GWEN: Might as well get it out of the way. I’d just assumed you already
got everything from the cops and other witnesses. You want a beer?
PETER: No thanks.
She gestures for him to sit down. He does.
GWEN: No offense, but you look like you could use one.
PETER: On second thought, I think I will have one.
Gwen goes to the refrigerator. Peter watches her as she grabs two
longnecks, trying not to stare. He’s never seen her dressed this
casually before.
PETER: Do you remember any specific details, anything out of the ordinary?
GWEN: Aside from the fact that he was a giant lizard? He had a badge on
his labcoat.
Gwen brings the beers, holds them above the coffee table. Peter gets the
drift and sets out two coasters. She opens both bottles for them,
holding the cap in her shirt-gloved hand before twisting it off. Peter
spies her belly button as she does this. Takes his beer.
PETER: What kind of badge?
GWEN: I don’t know… it was white plastic, except for this patch in the
middle. That was blue.
Peter raises the bottle to his lips, searching his memory. He pauses
halfway there.
PETER: The white plastic with a blue patch in the middle? You’re sure?
Gwen finishes her first sip.
GWEN: Yeah, saw it clear as day. Why, is that bad?
Peter puts the cap back on his beer. No time for drinking.
PETER: It was a radiation badge.
GWEN: But blue is good on a radiation badge, right? Red is bad.
PETER: Blue is worse. It’s called Cerenkov radiation. I have got to go,
but could you call the Nuclear Regulatory Commission? They might want to
know.
Now, you probably already know this, but just in case, here’s a
refresher course involving cute animals. The three-act dramatic
structure is kinda like this:
First act: Otters are holding hands.
Second act: Otters stop holding hands.
Third act: Otters hold hands again.
Of course, there’s a lot wrong with this. The first act drags on way too
long and the second act is too short, but aside from that, this is much
more dramatically sound than, say, the remake of When A Stranger Calls.
Here’s how it works. First act introduces the character and the problem.
The second act involves our hero(es) trying to fight the problem. The
third act is our hero with his back against the wall, forced to solve
the problem. For instance, look at X-Men.
First Act: Introduces Rogue, Logan, Magneto, and the rest of the X-Men.
Ends when Sabretooth attacks.
Second Act: The mutants try to figure out what Magneto wants with
Wolverine. Ends with a reversal; Magneto really wants Rogue. He captures
her.
Third Act: Huge fight at Liberty Island, the X-Men are triumphant.
Or Terminator 2.
First Act: Introduces John Connor, the Terminators, Sarah Connor, and so on.
Second Act: Terminator attack. The Terminator and the T-1000 fight over
John Connor, ending with the attack on Skynet.
Third Act: The T-1000 shows up, prompting a giant chase that ends in the
foundry with the T-1000’s destruction.
The first act serves as our primer. It introduces the protagonist and
his goal and what the antagonist is doing to get in the way of that
goal. Or, alternately, the antagonist and his goal and what the
protagonist is doing to get in the way of that goal. In hip-hop terms,
someone is getting SERVED. Like Spider-Man 2. Doc Ock’s goal is to
recreate his fusion experiment.
Second Act: Doctor Octopus tries to fix his machine, but Spider-Man is
always in the way. Ock tries to get money, Spider-Man is at the bank.
Ock tries to get trillium, he has to kill Spider-Man.
Third Act: Doc Ock kidnaps Mary-Jane. Now Peter Parker HAS to fight Doc Ock.
A goal is not the same as a motive. Spider-Man's goal is to fight crime,
specifically, stopping Doc Ock. His motive is guilt over his uncle's
death. Remember to pay attention to your villain's motivation and goal
as well. It should make sense or your entire script ISN'T going to make
sense. Magneto's goal: Turn the world leaders at a UN summit into
mutants. His motivation: He was a Jew at Auschwitz, so he thinks that
humans persecuting mutants is inevitable.
The second act is the protagonist and the antagonist bouncing off each
other, like a tennis match. Lex Luthor tests the Kryptonian crystals,
Superman saves the shuttle, Lex Luthor steals some Kryptonite, and so
on. This is going to be the majority of your story, the meat in your
delicious metafictional hamburger. The second act ends with a reversal
that shifts the conflict into high gear. Ra’s Al Ghul burns down Bruce
Wayne’s manor and leaves him for dead. Lex Luthor grows a Kryptonite
island. The Green Goblin finds out Spider-Man’s secret identity and
kidnaps Mary-Jane. It is ON now.
The third act. The hero’s back is against the wall. He has no choice but
to face the antagonist down for all the marbles. He can’t run away any
more, he can’t back down, he has to do his thing or the world is doomed.
This is the big, special effects-laden showdown where EVERYTHING BLOWS UP!
Batman goes into the Narrows to fight Ra’s Al Ghul. Spider-Man goes to
the George Washington Bridge to save Mary-Jane. The X-Men go to Alcatraz
to stop Magneto’s army.
The denouncement. This is the very end of the third act, closing the
curtains on the entire script. It would be unsatisfying if you just
ended things with the villain defeated; you have to give the audience a
little time to cool down. Peter Parker tells Mary-Jane he can’t love
her. Superman recites the Kryptonian oath to Jason White, Dick and
Barbara get together (awww), Bruce decides to rebuild Wayne Manor. Also,
this is the part where you set the stage for the sequel, if you’re so
inclined.
That does it for the external conflict, but what about the inner
conflict? That’s our hero’s emotional journey. What do they learn from
all of this, what do they get out of it? Peter Parker chooses a life of
responsibility, Superman realizes that he has family on Earth and not on
Krypton, Iron Man conquers his drinking problem, Nightwing gets out of
Batman’s shadow, Will Turner is alright with being a pirate.
Start off with an emotional problem. Either they have to resolve this
problem before they fight the Big Bad or, by fighting the Big Bad, they
realize how to resolve their problem. Now, is it possible to write a
story without an emotional arc? Sure, but you’ll get one of those
eighties action movies where Ah-Nuld blows everyone away and lets rip
with a witty one-liner. I happen to like those movies.
Just by the nature of the genre, you’ll have tons of emotional journeys
to choose from. Let’s start with the clichés. Character has a death wish
and realizes life is worth living. Character has a mad-on and realizes
Killing Isn’t Worth It. Character wants to stop being a superhero.
Character is afraid of intimacy. And so on and so forth.
Well, that’s my piece. I hope I’ve learned you something you don’t
already know. And remember, whatever you do, never, under any circumstances
----------------
Okay, let’s start off small. First off, you can learn all the real
nitty-gritty from actual screenwriters who get paid for this sort of
thing. Which would you rather do, learn writing by reading fanfic or by
reading literature? Exactly. So, Terry Rossio Ted Elliott’s website
is a good place to start (they wrote Pirates of the Caribbean, in case
you’re wondering), as well as W.C. Martell (he wrote
Invisible Mom. If you were wondering, you certainly aren’t now). Like
writing anything else, a great way to get familiar with this is to find
stories you like and look at how they were written. Simply Scripts has just about
every script ever; find a movie you like and read its script to be
pleasantly surprised. And remember, Shane Black gets to write that way
because he’s Shane Black.
And, for the real basics, (man, I wish I could do this with everything)
you could just listen to what Bruce
Campbell has to say.
But hey, you didn’t come here to hear what all those fancy-pants
Hollywood types have to say, you came to listen to me, right? (Right?)
Oh, intro. Hi, I’m Teh_no. You might remember me from such
scriptfics as The Flash, Birds of
Prey, Nightwing,
Spider-Man
3, and Teen Titans.
Some people might also say that I’m known for excessively pimping my own
works, but I don’t see it.
First off, let’s start with the basics. This is called a slugline.
INT. BATCAVE
It’s basically where the action is taking place. INT. and EXT. mean, as
you may have guessed, interior and exterior, followed by the setting.
INT. WAYNE MANOR - DAY
That tells us that we’re inside Wayne Manor during the day. Of course,
at some point we may travel to somewhere where we don’t know whether
it’s night or day… like OUTER SPACE.
EXT. MOON - TIMELESS
Problem solved. Every time your scene changes location, you need a new
slugline, like so:
INT. WAYNE MANOR - NIGHT
Dick Grayson looks out the window.
DICK: Holy SOS, Bruce, the Batsignal!
Bruce Wayne stands up from his chair.
BRUCE: Quick, Robin, to the Bat-Poles!
Bruce and Dick run to a bust of Abraham Lincoln and trigger a secret
button, causing the bookshelf to open up and reveal two firepoles. Bruce
and Dick ride down them.
INT. BATCAVE - TIMELESS
Bruce and Dick land, now dressed as Batman and Robin.
Next is dialogue. In real movie scripts, dialogue is centered like this,
name in ALL-CAPS over the lines.
BRUCE
Who the hell do you think I am? I’m the Goddamn Batman!
Of course, I’ll just put them in front of a colon, because I’m lazy. I’m
so lazy, in fact, that this is being transcribed by cheap Mexican labor.
Speaking of which, Pedro, you doin’ anything tonight? No, don’t write
that down! Backspace, backspace! Did you delete all of that? Good. Now
start typing this.
Characters are introduced with their names capitalized, followed by a
concise description. Let’s talk a look from screenplays that were
actually made into movies.
The screen is filled by the face of PETER PARKER, a seventeen year
old boy. High school must not be any fun for Peter, he's one
hundred percent nerd- skinny, zitty, glasses.
SUPERMAN stands in his classic outfit, arms folded, gazing intently back
up at the CAMERA which -represents JOR-EL. He is older now. A handsome,
strong man, his intelligence, warmth, and compassion shining through his
clear eyes as the final words of JOR-EL flow through him.
A good description should tell the audience everything they would get
from seeing an actor and watching his performance. Also remember; show,
don’t tell. Give the characters actions to express how they fell, or at
least lines.
Wrong
Bruce staggers out of the Batmobile. He hurts like hell.
Right
Bruce staggers out of the Batmobile. He hurts like hell. He limps his
way to a medicine cabinet and unscrews a bottle of painkillers, then
gulps a few down. That helps a little.
At some point, you may want to use voiceover narration. Don’t overdo
it. Voiceovers should ENHANCE the action, not replace it. It’s true
what they say; action speaks louder than words.
Wrong
Dick stands in his apartment.
DICK: (V.O.) God, I miss Barbara.
Right
Dick stands in his apartment. It’s empty. Quiet. He turns on the TV.
That brings a modicum of noise to bear, which just makes his loneliness
seems more pathetic to him. Finally, he opens a drawer and pulls out a
framed picture. Him and Barbara, in happier times. He smiles momentarily
before the memory turns bitter. Dick puts the picture away and opens
another drawer. His Nightwing costume is waiting for him.
Did you catch that (V.O.)? That means the character is narrating from
some great Sound Booth In The Sky. This is different from (O.S.), which
means offscreen.
INT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT
A CROOK is going through a woman’s purse.
NIGHTWING: (O.S.) Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to take things
that belong to you?
The Crook turns to see Nightwing in the fire escape. Nightwing jumps
down and attacks him.
DICK: (V.O.) I arrested criminals all night, but it didn’t make the pain
go away. Funny, you wouldn’t think knowing that Barbara was waiting for
me at the end of hell would make hell seem any different. It did though.
I guess that’s the secret of hell. You can’t get through it.
And what if someone is talking over a telephone or radio?
Suddenly, Nightwing’s comlink rings. He holds his wrist mic to his mouth.
NIGHTWING: Kinda busy.
BARBARA: (filtered, over comlink) Nightwing, we need to talk. Come to my
place, immediately.
Let’s leave the scintillating saga of Dick and Barbara behind for a
moment to switch tracks to Peter Parker. Remember, every scene should
have a purpose. Your script should be like a shark; it never stops
moving. This even applies to characterization. If two characters are
falling in love, they should be doing it while moving the plot forward.
Otherwise, you get something like the love scenes in Attack of the
Clones. That’s when the audience goes to get their popcorn refilled. If
a scene has no function other than being cool, cut it out.
This scene has a single purpose; giving Peter information about the
Lizard’s plot.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - HALLWAY - DAY
Peter stands outside an apartment, knocking.
PETER: Hello? It’s me, Peter Parker? You buzzed me up.
The apartment opens. Peter walks in.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - WOMAN’S APARTMENT - DAY
The Woman is in a morning gown, drowsy, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
WOMAN: Who are you again?
PETER: Peter Parker. I’m a reporter with the Daily Bugle. I was
wondering if we could talk a little about the Lizard.
WOMAN: What about him?
PETER: He attacked your tour bus. Do you remember any details, anything
at all?
WOMAN: He had a badge on his labcoat.
PETER: What kind of badge?
WOMAN: I don’t know… it was white plastic, except for this patch in the
middle. That was blue.
PETER: The white plastic with a blue patch in the middle? You’re sure?
WOMAN: Yeah, saw it clear as day. Why, is that bad?
PETER: (reassuring) That’s… (screw it) That’s very bad, yeah.
That was pretty boring, right? One thing we can do to improve it is to
make it advance the plot in more than one way; give it multiple
purposes. In the original Spider-Man movie, you’ll remember the Macy
Grey setpiece where the Green Goblin attacked for the first time? That
advanced, obviously, Spider-Man’s story. It also advanced Norman’s story
(he killed the board of directors). It advanced Harry’s story (Mary-Jane
isn’t too attracted to him). It advanced Mary-Jane’s story (she starts
to fall for Spider-Man, aka Peter Parker). Almost the entire cast had
their arcs progressed in one scene. Can you imagine how much screentime
it would’ve taken if all of those plot points were addressed in separate
scenes? Plus, it gives the audience a cool action sequence to keep them
awake.
So, in this case we can advance the story of Peter’s love life by
changing generic woman to love interest.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - HALLWAY - DAY
Peter stands outside an apartment, knocking.
PETER: Hello? It’s me, Peter Parker? You buzzed me up.
The apartment opens. Peter walks in.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - GWEN’S APARTMENT - DAY
Gwen Stacy is waiting for him, dressed comfortably in jeans and a
T-shirt. Peter looks at her a tad too long; he’s never seen her dressed
this casually before.
GWEN: Hey Peter. What blows you this way?
PETER: Work, unfortunately. Daily Bugle thought you would prefer talking
to me than some soulless reporter.
GWEN: Might as well get it out of the way. I’d just assumed you already
got everything from the cops and other witnesses.
PETER: But do you remember any details, anything at all?
GWEN: He had a badge on his labcoat.
PETER: What kind of badge?
GWEN: I don’t know… it was white plastic, except for this patch in the
middle. That was blue.
PETER: The white plastic with a blue patch in the middle? You’re sure?
GWEN: Yeah, saw it clear as day. Why, is that bad?
PETER: It was a radiation badge.
GWEN: But blue is good on a radiation badge, right? Red is bad.
PETER: Blue is worse. It’s called Cerenkov radiation. I have got to go,
but could you call the Nuclear Regulatory Commission? They might want to
know.
But it’s still just two people talking together, so let’s add a few
actions to the scene to really make it pop.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - HALLWAY - DAY
Peter stands outside an apartment, knocking.
PETER: Hello? It’s me, Peter Parker? You buzzed me up.
The apartment opens. Peter walks in.
INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - GWEN’S APARTMENT - DAY
Gwen Stacy is waiting for him, dressed comfortably in jeans and a T-shirt.
GWEN: Hey Peter. What blows you this way?
PETER: Work, unfortunately. Daily Bugle thought you would prefer talking
to me than some soulless reporter.
GWEN: Might as well get it out of the way. I’d just assumed you already
got everything from the cops and other witnesses. You want a beer?
PETER: No thanks.
She gestures for him to sit down. He does.
GWEN: No offense, but you look like you could use one.
PETER: On second thought, I think I will have one.
Gwen goes to the refrigerator. Peter watches her as she grabs two
longnecks, trying not to stare. He’s never seen her dressed this
casually before.
PETER: Do you remember any specific details, anything out of the ordinary?
GWEN: Aside from the fact that he was a giant lizard? He had a badge on
his labcoat.
Gwen brings the beers, holds them above the coffee table. Peter gets the
drift and sets out two coasters. She opens both bottles for them,
holding the cap in her shirt-gloved hand before twisting it off. Peter
spies her belly button as she does this. Takes his beer.
PETER: What kind of badge?
GWEN: I don’t know… it was white plastic, except for this patch in the
middle. That was blue.
Peter raises the bottle to his lips, searching his memory. He pauses
halfway there.
PETER: The white plastic with a blue patch in the middle? You’re sure?
Gwen finishes her first sip.
GWEN: Yeah, saw it clear as day. Why, is that bad?
Peter puts the cap back on his beer. No time for drinking.
PETER: It was a radiation badge.
GWEN: But blue is good on a radiation badge, right? Red is bad.
PETER: Blue is worse. It’s called Cerenkov radiation. I have got to go,
but could you call the Nuclear Regulatory Commission? They might want to
know.
Now, you probably already know this, but just in case, here’s a
refresher course involving cute animals. The three-act dramatic
structure is kinda like this:
First act: Otters are holding hands.
Second act: Otters stop holding hands.
Third act: Otters hold hands again.
Of course, there’s a lot wrong with this. The first act drags on way too
long and the second act is too short, but aside from that, this is much
more dramatically sound than, say, the remake of When A Stranger Calls.
Here’s how it works. First act introduces the character and the problem.
The second act involves our hero(es) trying to fight the problem. The
third act is our hero with his back against the wall, forced to solve
the problem. For instance, look at X-Men.
First Act: Introduces Rogue, Logan, Magneto, and the rest of the X-Men.
Ends when Sabretooth attacks.
Second Act: The mutants try to figure out what Magneto wants with
Wolverine. Ends with a reversal; Magneto really wants Rogue. He captures
her.
Third Act: Huge fight at Liberty Island, the X-Men are triumphant.
Or Terminator 2.
First Act: Introduces John Connor, the Terminators, Sarah Connor, and so on.
Second Act: Terminator attack. The Terminator and the T-1000 fight over
John Connor, ending with the attack on Skynet.
Third Act: The T-1000 shows up, prompting a giant chase that ends in the
foundry with the T-1000’s destruction.
The first act serves as our primer. It introduces the protagonist and
his goal and what the antagonist is doing to get in the way of that
goal. Or, alternately, the antagonist and his goal and what the
protagonist is doing to get in the way of that goal. In hip-hop terms,
someone is getting SERVED. Like Spider-Man 2. Doc Ock’s goal is to
recreate his fusion experiment.
Second Act: Doctor Octopus tries to fix his machine, but Spider-Man is
always in the way. Ock tries to get money, Spider-Man is at the bank.
Ock tries to get trillium, he has to kill Spider-Man.
Third Act: Doc Ock kidnaps Mary-Jane. Now Peter Parker HAS to fight Doc Ock.
A goal is not the same as a motive. Spider-Man's goal is to fight crime,
specifically, stopping Doc Ock. His motive is guilt over his uncle's
death. Remember to pay attention to your villain's motivation and goal
as well. It should make sense or your entire script ISN'T going to make
sense. Magneto's goal: Turn the world leaders at a UN summit into
mutants. His motivation: He was a Jew at Auschwitz, so he thinks that
humans persecuting mutants is inevitable.
The second act is the protagonist and the antagonist bouncing off each
other, like a tennis match. Lex Luthor tests the Kryptonian crystals,
Superman saves the shuttle, Lex Luthor steals some Kryptonite, and so
on. This is going to be the majority of your story, the meat in your
delicious metafictional hamburger. The second act ends with a reversal
that shifts the conflict into high gear. Ra’s Al Ghul burns down Bruce
Wayne’s manor and leaves him for dead. Lex Luthor grows a Kryptonite
island. The Green Goblin finds out Spider-Man’s secret identity and
kidnaps Mary-Jane. It is ON now.
The third act. The hero’s back is against the wall. He has no choice but
to face the antagonist down for all the marbles. He can’t run away any
more, he can’t back down, he has to do his thing or the world is doomed.
This is the big, special effects-laden showdown where EVERYTHING BLOWS UP!
Batman goes into the Narrows to fight Ra’s Al Ghul. Spider-Man goes to
the George Washington Bridge to save Mary-Jane. The X-Men go to Alcatraz
to stop Magneto’s army.
The denouncement. This is the very end of the third act, closing the
curtains on the entire script. It would be unsatisfying if you just
ended things with the villain defeated; you have to give the audience a
little time to cool down. Peter Parker tells Mary-Jane he can’t love
her. Superman recites the Kryptonian oath to Jason White, Dick and
Barbara get together (awww), Bruce decides to rebuild Wayne Manor. Also,
this is the part where you set the stage for the sequel, if you’re so
inclined.
That does it for the external conflict, but what about the inner
conflict? That’s our hero’s emotional journey. What do they learn from
all of this, what do they get out of it? Peter Parker chooses a life of
responsibility, Superman realizes that he has family on Earth and not on
Krypton, Iron Man conquers his drinking problem, Nightwing gets out of
Batman’s shadow, Will Turner is alright with being a pirate.
Start off with an emotional problem. Either they have to resolve this
problem before they fight the Big Bad or, by fighting the Big Bad, they
realize how to resolve their problem. Now, is it possible to write a
story without an emotional arc? Sure, but you’ll get one of those
eighties action movies where Ah-Nuld blows everyone away and lets rip
with a witty one-liner. I happen to like those movies.
Just by the nature of the genre, you’ll have tons of emotional journeys
to choose from. Let’s start with the clichés. Character has a death wish
and realizes life is worth living. Character has a mad-on and realizes
Killing Isn’t Worth It. Character wants to stop being a superhero.
Character is afraid of intimacy. And so on and so forth.
Well, that’s my piece. I hope I’ve learned you something you don’t
already know. And remember, whatever you do, never, under any circumstances