by Jim Mercurio
Scene Analysis:
The Departed
THE GOLD DOME ON BEACON HILL
INT. AN APARTMENT ON BEACON HILL. TWILIGHT
A REALTOR switches on lights. An empty, flash apartment above the Parisian rooftops of Beacon Hill. A view of the Dome. More than you’d think a cop could afford. We see, as COLIN does, beyond his reflection in the glass, the STATE HOUSE DOME.
REALTOR
This is it. Nice. You’ve got high ceilings, parquet floors. There’s a lock on the fridge in case you have eating issues… Joke… not a very good one.
(uneasy)
So, you’re a policeman?
COLIN
(like something he is used to reciting)
I’m a State Police detective.
(This is not exposition, because it is defending against an attack; it’s a push to gather power and status and to change the agent’s perception of him.)
REALTOR
(wondering where he gets his money from)
State Police Detective. You a married State Police Detective?
(The parenthetical isn’t really necessary because even if the reader/audience doesn’t understand, the point will become clear within a few lines.)
COLIN
(coming out of his reverie and coldly:)
… No.
REALTOR
Oh, ’cause it’s big and I wondered if a cop…
COLIN
I have a cosigner.
(If the subtext of the agent’s last two lines weren’t clear to us, they were clear to the character, whose response clarifies the last few-line exchange. Subtext: “I can afford it,” and possibly “Shut up.”)
REALTOR
You intend to have a housemate. That’s cool.
(Subtext: “If you’re gay, that’s cool with me,” or “I know you’re gay.”)
COLIN
Give me the f****n’ papers.
Underneath the simple goal of finding an apartment is some pretty intense and specific conflict as subtext. In thirty seconds of successive beats, the agent questions Colin’s entire sense of self—his profession, his net worth, his self-worth, his power as a man, and his sexual identity.
Exaggerated Importance:
A Source of Comedy
Importance plays a critical part in comedy in two ways.
Just as in drama, the power in a situation comes from its alignment with the deeper emotions inside the character. Unlike in a sitcom, a line can’t exist just to make a character or the audience laugh. It must be an active beat that reveals character or forwards the story.
In My Best Friend’s Wedding, Julianne sets up a metaphor with herself as Jell-O and Kimmy as crème brûlée. When Kimmy says, “I can be Jell-O,” she imbues it with all the importance in the world. It means, “I will fight, I will do anything, even change myself and my nature to get the love of the man I love.” Julianne has a reason to retort, “Crème brûlée can never be Jell-O,” and there is an equal amount of importance. Her flaw is that she is too competitive, and the subtext here is “You can’t ever be me or as good as me.”
Importance represents a solid connection from a present action to a deep and meaningful resonance from a character’s past. We can also create humor by replacing this legitimate association between past and present with a flimsier, more tenuous one.
Instead of aligning perfectly with the internal conflict, a situation can merely rhyme with it. Logically, the current situation shouldn’t have the same emotional magnitude as the more serious issues in the past. However, humor occurs when the characters imbue the situation with the same level of importance.
Step Brothers takes a small trait of “I don’t like it when people touch my stuff,” and elevates it to a hyperbolic level. When Brennan (Will Ferrell) touches Dale’s (John C. Reilly) drum set in his special and genre-appropriate way, we understand why that incites their absurd fight. It works because it’s based in truth, albeit an exaggerated one.
In Caddyshack, the slovenly greenskeeper Carl (Bill Murray) imagines himself to be a professional golfer on the verge of winning the Masters. With every swing, he destroys a dainty flower that lines the walkway. The visuals suggest a deeply irreverent attitude and possibly the character’s frustration with the wealthy snobs, but the humor comes from exaggerated importance as Carl pretends to be an announcer narrating his final hole. Here is the last third of his monologue:
GREENSKEEPER CARL
The crowd is on its feet here. He’s a Cinderella boy. Tears in his eyes, I guess, as he lines up this last shot. He’s got about 195 yards left, and
…
… looks like he’s got an eight iron. This crowd has gone deadly silent. Cinderella story. Out of nowhere. A former greenskeeper now about to become the Masters’ champion. It’s in the hole!
Foils and Mirrors
Almost all supporting characters face a choice that is a variation of the protagonist’s dilemma. This is another way that dilemma contributes to unity in your character conflicts and story. All characters are some combination of same, different, or same and different. They become mirrors of or foils for each other.
Mirror characters are alternate versions of the protagonist. They could be mentors who have already made the decision that the protagonist should or will eventually make. Think Obi-Wan (Alec Guinness) and Luke in Star Wars. In a romantic comedy, when a woman who has been married fifty years gives advice to the female protagonist that helps to save her relationship, the older woman is a mirror of who the younger protagonist could possibly become.
The purpose of a foil character is to accentuate aspects of the protagonist. This is done in two ways. Sometimes a foil character is just an opposite whose contrast sheds light on the protagonist’s overall characteristics.
Another way foil characters function is to be very similar to the protagonist, except for a single exception, a trait or an eventual action. When given the same figurative dilemma as the protagonist, a foil character will make a different choice that emphasizes the protagonist’s choice.
The final voice-over in The Dark Knight helps to define the ultimate dilemma for Batman.
GORDON (VO)
… he’s the hero Gotham deserves… but not the one it needs right now. So, we’ll hunt him because he can take it. Because he’s not our hero… he’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector… a dark knight.
This summation also reminds us of the theme, “A hero has to make hard choices, even risk looking like a villain to do the right thing.” Like Batman, each of the characters in The Dark Knight must choose between a selfish action and a more difficult and selfless one. In the breakout box, Dilemma 101 or 101 Dilemmas, notice how even glorified extras have very concise dilemmas, which echo this choice, that define them.
Dilemma 101 or 101 Dilemmas
Jonathan and Christopher Nolan, the screenwriters of The Dark Knight, obviously embrace dilemma as a tool to quickly demonstrate the essence of their characters. In The Dark Knight, Batman (Christian Bale) has several choices, each of which is a lose-lose scenario. Here are two of them:
Dilemma #1
• Let the Joker live and continue to harm the city.
• Kill the Joker and destroy his own conscience while allowing the Joker the victory of showing that even Batman can be corrupted—another blow to the city.
Dilemma #2
• Take the fall for Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart) and look like the villain.
• Reveal Dent’s fall and once again crush the spirit of the city.
As Bruce Wayne, he must choose between his crusade for justice and the soul of Gotham, or ending his Batman identity to be with the woman he loves, Rachel (Maggie Gyllenhall). This leads to a conundrum for Alfred (Michael Caine) later in the trilogy, after Rachel’s death.
Alfred must choose whether or not to give Bruce Wayne the letter in which Rachel resolved her own dilemma by rejecting Bruce and choosing Harvey. For rhetoric’s sake, let’s couch the nature of Alfred’s choice
in terms of win-win, a choice where both sides are equally good:
• Don’t give him the letter and prevent Bruce from experiencing tremendous pain.
• Give him the letter and the push he needs to finally give up his self-destructive role as the Dark Knight.
Batman’s other allies also have important dilemmas.
Bruce Wayne’s business manager, Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman), must decide whether to compromise his integrity and help Batman by using the intrusive and illegal sonar technology he created to find the Joker.
FOX
Spying on thirty million people wasn’t in my job description.
Later, he must choose whether or not he wants to continue to work for the man, Bruce, who set up such a dangerous and immoral technology.
FOX
As long as this machine is at Wayne Industries, I won’t be.
Commissioner Gordon (Gary Oldman) must choose whether or not to fake his own death. The consequences might not be immediately clear, but he risks damaging his relationship with his wife. After thinking he is dead, when she discovers the lie, she becomes infuriated and slaps him in the face.
Later, the deranged Dent, as Two-Face, gives Gordon a variation on Sophie’s choice: the ultimate dilemma of which family member to save, his wife or child.
Consider the minor characters on the ferry boats that are rigged with explosives. The Joker puts a trigger device on each ship that supposedly will destroy the other ship. They each have a variation of Batman’s dilemma: to do the right thing despite the great personal loss that will occur.
A mother with a child, and a businessman, who don’t even have a single line of dialogue, must choose between self-preservation and committing or condoning an act of mass murder by pressing the detonation trigger and preemptively destroying the other ferry, which is full of prisoners.
On the ferry with the prisoners, the captain has a unique dilemma. Does he give up the detonation trigger to the intimidating tattooed prisoner, or not? He could survive while simultaneously absolving himself of any guilt or responsibility. In a surprise that thwarts expectations, the tattooed prisoner takes the trigger and tosses it out the window, becoming, at least momentarily, a hero of sorts.
In The Dark Knight, two classic foil characters, both of whom are police officers, have choices that rhyme with Batman’s and are almost identical to each other’s. The Joker has threatened to blow up a hospital, and both officers, Berg (Matt Shallenberger) and Ramirez (Monique Gabriela Curnen), have a family member in a hospital or in need of medical help.
Detective Anna Ramirez’s Dilemma
• Turn down a bribe from villains to reveal where Rachel and Dent can be captured.
• Take the money so she can pay for her mother’s medical care.
Officer Berg’s Dilemma
• Protect Reese, who is willing to identify Batman, which will cause the Joker to destroy a hospital.
• Kill Reese or allow him to be killed to protect his wife, who is currently in a hospital.
Ramirez takes the bribe, which leads to Rachel’s death. Berg honors his duty as a police officer and chooses to protect Reese. The contrast in their actions highlights their respective cowardice and heroism.
The Lord of the Rings trilogy abounds with foils, shadows, and doubles. Each character has several other characters that compare and contrast with himself to develop the world and its inhabitants.
Let’s start with Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen) and Boromir (Sean Bean). They have the same goatee and long hair. They mirror each other in their appearance as warriors. Yet they have exact opposite feelings toward the ring. Aragorn is reluctant to embrace his power and role as king, which might explain why he has no desire for the ring. Boromir wants to use the ring’s power to defend Gondor. He succumbs to its power and his desire for it and even attacks Frodo (Elijah Wood) to try to retrieve it.
In another example of same but different, Boromir’s younger brother Faramir (David Wenham) eventually captures Frodo. Although his desire for the ring is less voracious than his brother’s, his initial plan, like his brother’s, is to use the ring to protect Gondor. Unlike his brother, before doing anything rash, he sees the errors in his way and sets Frodo free.
Frodo and Gollum are textbook foil characters, too. Frodo displays amazing strength in resisting the ring’s powerful sway, whereas Gollum, who used to be a hobbit named Smeagol, embodies weakness, a complete inability to resist the ring. He is a reminder to Frodo and the audience of what’s at stake. The ring has the power to turn a decent being into a wretched, enslaved degenerate.
That Is the Question
In a screenwriting workshop, I declared that the root of all drama stems from dilemma and that, for the most part, all characters can be reduced to one simple choice. A young student scoffed at what he thought was an oversimplification, and his diatribe went on to let me know that back in the day, Shakespeare didn’t need all of these “rules.”
I said, “Let’s play a game where I say a word and you say the first thing that comes to your mind.” He agreed. Here is our exchange:
JIM
Shakespeare.
STUDENT
Hamlet.
JIM
Hamlet.
STUDENT
To be or not to be.
If the idea of dilemma is good enough for Shakespeare and the Nolan brothers, then it is good enough for us. As simple as it may sound, appearances are deceiving. It might take hours of writing to find the perfect way to articulate the essence of a single character, but the time is worth spending so you can utilize each character in a deeper, more meaningful way.
Once you have stumbled upon the essence of your character, use that insight to define the character’s dilemma. It will give your scenes clear direction and bring profound focus to your writing and rewriting.
Understanding your character’s dilemma helps you to clarify the conflict between characters and create more personal stakes that are imbued with importance. You can develop organic, powerful twists that reveal your character’s essence.
7
EXPLOITING CONCEPT: FROM INSPIRATION TO SURPRISE
The notion that a great artist uses creativity to weave a story with unlimited possibilities is quite romantic, but in truth, the magic in commercial concept-driven screenwriting is the methodical exploitation of a very narrow what-if premise.
The concept of your story encompasses the main elements that demand preeminence and will function as your main source of inspiration for the majority of your dialogue, situations, and scenes. Your concept is the creative but specific cauldron in which you cook up your ideas.
The best way to distinguish between a high-concept and low-concept story idea is found in the pitch: how easy or how difficult is it to describe the entire story in one or two tight sentences? A high-concept film has a clearly defined, easy-to-pitch premise that quickly conveys the inherent nature of the conflict and that suggests intriguing, concrete possibilities about how the conflict will develop.
For instance, a logline for the high-concept movie Big presents a clear picture of the setup and how it will play out:
A kid’s wish that he were grown up is granted by a fortune telling machine, but after trying to navigate the world as an adult with a job, romance, and friendship, he yearns to become a kid again. In the process, he grows up a little.
A low-concept story focuses more on subtleties such as character development, the voice of both the characters and the filmmakers, and other nuances. Sideways and Pulp Fiction do not lend themselves to the same pithy summaries as do high-concept films. Despite the laziness inherent in the cliché, describing the action film Speed as “Die Hard on a bus” does the job rather well.
The overriding element of your concept is called a hook. It is what immediately captures your audience’s attention and distinguishes your story from others in the same genre. The hook can be a fantastical conceit or curse, such as in Liar Liar, It’s a Wonderful Life, or Freaky Fri
day. Supernatural hooks such as the existence of aliens in District 9, the Alien series, or E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial are as common as the existence of ghosts and monsters in horror movies. In films such as Die Hard, 12 Angry Men, and Buried, the hook is the limited setting that essentially traps the characters.
Other elements beyond the hook that can help make the telling of a story unique include a comic premise (Tootsie, Animal House, The Proposal, Beverly Hills Cop), the structure or way of telling the story (Rashomon, Reservoir Dogs, or Citizen Kane), a style element such as one-take or first-person (Rope, The Blair Witch Project, or Chronicle), or the essence of most sci-fi stories, the exploration of a hypothetical future (Jurassic Park, The Hunger Games, Looper, or Rollerball).
Consider pieces of your concept as purposeful obstructions—like the rules of a sonnet—that challenge you to stay within its form. These obstacles can inspire you and accelerate the process of generating ideas and surprises. Sometimes a low-concept script is more challenging to write because there are fewer obstacles and limitations through which to filter your story. The prominent elements and resources in high-concept narratives are more conspicuous.
When writing low-concept films, you must to fight to discover the limited realm from which your surprises can emanate. In a slice-of-life character drama such as Gas, Food, Lodging, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, or Leaving Las Vegas, you will pull most of your inspiration for scenes from characterization, character, your own knowledge of universal truths of the real world, and your personal voice as a writer. The context, with its sense of time and place and texture of the world, often becomes a crucial limiting factor for period pieces, dramas, Oscar-bait films, and romances. It’s not a coincidence that the trailers for many of these films begin with the ubiquitous voice-over clichés: “in a time of…” or “in a world where…”
For instance, the geographic locale and sense of place in history become essential to the telling of Brokeback Mountain. Without the historical setting (1963), geographical location (conservative, small-town Wyoming), and societal norms (traditional family structure, a tendency toward homophobia), as well as the attention to cultural nuance (set amid the cowboy subculture, where traditional masculinity is idolized), the film would struggle to put up a worthy obstacle to the love story.