by Jim Mercurio
Here is a more complete articulation that includes the genre, hook, and tangible stakes:
A slapstick comedy about a lying lawyer who falls under a curse that makes it impossible for him to tell a lie for twenty-four hours. He must win a case to salvage his career and must prove to his son that he loves him.
Soon after the inciting incident, there is a memorable slapstick set-piece. In “the pen is blue” scene, as Fletcher struggles to write the lie that a blue pen is actually not blue, the pen fights back by writing the word “blue” all over his face. It cleverly delivers exposition for the character and audience via conflict. We now know two additional facts:
He can’t speak or write a lie, and he can’t overcome the curse with sheer force of will.
Clarify your story parameters early in the story and your writing process, so you can draw on them for scenes. That way, you can avoid cluttering your concept with additional premises—functioning solely to address little plot holes—that won’t be fully exploited.
Compactness
If you add a piece to the concept and fail to explore it fully, it is a wasted resource and a lost opportunity to explore your core premises. Neither the added element nor your basic premise benefit from ad hoc plotting, which is a reason to work on your concept logline as early as possible in your process.
Let’s say in “your” Liar Liar script, you want to explore the premise:
When he tries really hard to tell a lie, he breaks out in an unsightly rash.
If we add a prominent element like this, then we are obligated to explore it. We can envision scenes in which Fletcher might run away, hide, or use literal or figurative makeup to avoid embarrassment. On the downside, if the character actively evades—literally fleeing the space—then this premise will tend to defuse tension and potential confrontation. Plus, would you want to encourage the star of your movie to hide his face, especially such an expressive and expensive mug?
See how a single additional subpremise or conceit can fundamentally change the nature of the scenes and your story? One simple choice makes telling your story harder by hindering conflict and impacts the all-important castability of your lead role.
Ask yourself if you can get the gist of your desired goal without adding an entirely new premise. Let’s brainstorm… We want to give him mumps… They are sort of like a scarlet letter for his deceit… So we want it on his face… The pen is blue… Can the mumps be, too?
When the pen writes on his face, it’s like giving him the mumps figuratively.
Instead of committing to adding an entirely new premise, you will find that your current concept can often “stretch” to accommodate new ideas.
Despite the inefficiency, sometimes it does become necessary to add a new wrinkle to the concept only for a scene or two. Near its end, Liar Liar relies on a last-minute addition to the concept to address what would otherwise be a gaping plot loophole. In the climactic trial, what if Fletcher asks his client questions and lets her do all the lying for him? If that works, the movie’s over. So the film adds an additional caveat: Fletcher cannot even ask a question if he knows the answer will be a lie.
It’s smart to wait to introduce this added element until it’s needed in the script. If you brought it in earlier without a scene that involves Fletcher interrogating a liar, it would have been forgettable and extraneous. It’s a bit clunky as it comes in later, but essential.
Here’s a final, complete, and compact concept logline that could guide you through the telling of Liar Liar:
A slapstick comedy about a lying lawyer who falls under a curse that makes it impossible to tell a spoken or written lie for twenty-four hours. He can’t even ask a question if he knows the person will answer with a lie. If he struggles to break the curse, it will retaliate against him. He must win a case to salvage his career and must prove to his son, who thinks that he is a liar, that he loves him.
Scene Analysis:
Superman: The Movie
Let’s look at a scene from the 1978 Superman: The Movie. And then afterward, we will look at its relationship to its concept logline:
Concept Logline for Superman: The Movie
Superman is a near-invincible superhero whose lone physical vulnerability is Kryptonite. He must stay disguised as naïve, mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent. He falls in love with Lois, who falls in love only with Superman, not his Clark Kent alter ego.
After his first day of work at the Daily Planet, Clark and Lois exit the building. Lois chastises him for using the word “swell.”
A voice and a gun interrupt them and lead them back into an alley where a mugger holds them at gunpoint. Clark makes sure he is in front of Lois. He says that they better do what the mugger says, which is, of course, a setup of expectation for an eventual surprise.
In a moment of comic relief, Clark gives a naïve speech about crime not being the solution.
CLARK
Listen, mister. I realize times are tough for some these days, but…
(total sincerity)
This isn’t the answer. You can’t solve society’s problems with a gun.
The MUGGER blinks. LOIS looks at CLARK unbelievingly.
(Their humorous reactions accentuate how dorky the response is. Surprise, the scene follows in that direction for a moment.)
MUGGER
You know something, buddy? You’re right. I’m turning over a new leaf.
CLARK
That’s the spirit.
(The zag toward the potential surprise—that the rah-rah speech would transform the robber—makes the abrupt return to the expected that much more amusing:)
MUGGER
Right after I rip off this lady’s purse.
(to LOIS)
Now hand it over.
The setup of “Do as he says” pays off when Lois, not Clark, takes action by kicking the mugger as he is trying to grab her purse. In the fracas, the gun goes off and Clark uses Superman’s superpowers to grab the bullet and pretends to faint.
Lois “revives” him as he flutters his eyelids to pretend to wake up. He tells her that he must have fainted. In response, she says, “Swell.”
In the final action, he chastises her for endangering herself for the mere contents of her purse.
CLARK gets to his feet, dusts himself off.
CLARK
Really, Lois. Supposing that man had shot you? Is it worth risking your life over ten dollars, two credit cards, a hairbrush, and a lipstick? I mean…
LOIS
(strange expression)
How did you know that?
CLARK
(suddenly nervous)
Know what?
LOIS
You just described the exact contents of my purse.
CLARK
(pause -- smile)
Wild guess.
CLARK turns self-consciously, strides out of the alley as LOIS watches him curiously.
CLARK
Taxi!
For now, let’s just revel in how fun it is to have him name the exact contents of her purse to create the beat of “chastising her” for her rash decision. It exploits the concept, specifically one of his superpowers, his X-ray vision, to create humor and intrigue from a moment that could have come off as a standard, stern warning.
Reverse-Engineering the Concept
When a movie is properly smashable, there is a two-way path from concept to scene and back.
In the Superman mugging scene, Kryptonite is the only element of the concept logline that’s absent, but every other aspect becomes a key source of inspiration for the scene’s most memorable moments.
Let’s look at how the scene’s highlights connect directly back to the premises in the concept logline.
He Stops Bullet and Protects Her
This obviously is him using his superpowers.
Superman is a near-invincible superhero…
Funny Speech
His naïve plea to the robber could originate from Clark’s gullibi
lity or Superman’s wholesomeness. So, who’s the dork? Superman or Clark? Some elements of the scene can work with either decision, like his usage of the word “swell.”
Do we really want the most powerful and honorable man in the world to be a nerd? In a straight-out comedy, it might be a nice counterpoint, but here it works in a more productive manner as his shadow and alter ego, Clark Kent.
His Fainting and Comical Recovery
When he recovers from the faint, Clark exaggeratedly play-acts his role by fluttering eyes. It cements the fact that the “dorkiness” is an act.
He must stay disguised as naïve, mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent.
The faint hides his superpowers, which addresses the need for his disguise, but we must dig deeper to see why the disguise is imperative.
In general, movies with characters seemingly impervious to physical threats must provide the characters some sort of vulnerability. For Superman, it’s Kryptonite. Without some sense of danger for the protagonist, what does the audience have to worry about? This actually becomes a problem in Lucy and Last Action Hero, which seem to have no physical stakes for the protagonist.
In addition to Superman’s physical vulnerability, there is a corresponding emotional vulnerability, too. Superman goes to the Fortress of Solitude, where his father, Jor-El, warns of the consequences should he reveal his true identity:
JOR-EL
… Furthermore, if you will reveal yourself, your enemies will have a way of getting at you where you are vulnerable: by hurting the people you care for.
He must stay in his disguise or endanger the lives of the people he cares for. In a moment, we will see how this becomes essential to the story.
“Wild Guess” Line
After he shocks Lois by revealing the exact contents of her purse, Superman wryly quips, “Wild guess.” If Superman, not the role he plays as Clark, is naïve and socially awkward, then the beat is merely “covering up” for his bumbling mistake.
However, having already concluded that Superman is not a dork and, therefore, is in control of what’s going on here, then he has made the bolder and conscious choice to pique her interest and give her a bit of “just deserts” for her condemnation of Clark as such a nerd. He is smug while enjoying his victory.
That’s right, “wild guess” is Superman, as Clark, coyly flirting with Lois. Why does he have to flirt indirectly? Why can’t he come out and tell her? The answer also draws on the concept: unrequited love.
He falls in love with Lois, who falls in love only with Superman, not Clark Kent.
Does Clark have a chance with Lois? Absolutely not. If Clark could become intimate with Lois, or if Superman were able to reveal his identity to Lois, then the source of this tension and much of the lighter comedy that comes with it in the entire Superman mythology would be gone.
Do you see how the unrequited love combined with the need for the disguise to keep Lois safe creates a powerful dilemma? The challenge with love stories is to find something powerful enough to compete with love as a choice. Here, it’s love versus love. He loves Lois and wants to be with her, but he also needs to protect her.
The tone of the movie is light and their relationship plays out as if part of a screwball comedy, so there is no suggestion that Clark is putting Lois in harm’s way. However, Clark’s unrequited love for Lois means his longing can be expressed only through flirtatiousness and subtext.
Notice how what seems like a cute, fluffy scene manages to embody all but one of the precepts of the film’s concept. Make your script smashable by finding inspiration for your scene’s surprises from the story’s premise.
Set-Piece Scenes
The classical definition of a set-piece scene is a big, spectacle-oriented moment with wide scope and/or challenging logistics from a production standpoint that includes a convergence of as many plotlines and resources as possible. The term originated from the old studio days when writers worked under contract and were expected to utilize standing sets on the lot for big production numbers. A big dance number in a musical, a gigantic wedding, or the car chase in The French Connection are all examples of set-pieces.
However, my definition relates to concept. So let’s get philosophical about concept for a moment.
For a 3-D film, if an ax flies across the scene from left to right, do you see how, in some ways, it’s just wrong? It should soar, instead, toward us and the camera. Why do something that ignores the most prominent elements of your medium?
That might seem an overly critical stance, but think about how Pixar strategically embraced animation as a medium that should tell stories set in nonrealistic worlds where surprisingly magical things could happen. They didn’t make a story featuring humans until their sixth movie, The Incredibles. And those “humans” happened to be superheroes in a hyperbolic world. Their next film featuring humans, Up, wasn’t until their tenth.
The reason to think about this deeply is that grounding your story in concept will help you write great set-piece scenes. Ask yourself what is the best, most audacious scene you can write, given your premise, concept, and genre? The essence of a true set-piece scene is that it is a perfect manifestation of concept.
For instance, in The Nutty Professor, part of the concept is that one actor plays several roles. The famous “I’ll show you healthy” dinner scene where Eddie Murphy plays all but the child character is an organic and wonderful set-piece.
Good Will Hunting relies on intimate but talky scenes that function as emotional set-pieces: the first therapy scene with Will and Sean, the Harvard bar scene, maybe even the long storytelling moments and the session when Sean and Will bond over both having been beaten as kids.
In Die Hard, when McClane throws the explosives down the shaft, think about how everything is about the environment: office chairs, elevator shafts, different floors, the way the feds on the outside misinterpret the action. In contrast, Moneyball has a great, extended set-piece that revolves around Billy (Brad Pitt) and his handling of several back-to-back phone calls.
At the essence of Deadpool is an irreverent deconstruction of the superhero genre, which begins with the credits (starring a “British Villain,” “directed by an overpaid tool,” etc.). In addition to the crude and sexual humor, the prominent conceit that sets its scenes apart is their self-reflexive quality. Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) even quips about breaking the fourth wall of a fourth wall being a sixteenth-wall break.
A set-piece scene is where you get to show off as a writer. Action doesn’t read the same as it plays on the screen, so you don’t have the luxury of overdirecting and jamming thirty pages of action sequences into your scripts. That said, you want to put some director-bait in your script. If long, talky monologues are actor-bait, then that showy, supervisual scene effectively entwined with the concept is director-bait.
Unlimited Limitations
The craft of writing to concept is one of the least-taught and last-learned skills. However, it probably has more impact on your ability to write a marketable script than any other skill.
A script that has a clear understanding of its genre and is modestly budgeted with a high-concept that is executed really well—it’s on the page—is the script that you have the best chance to sell as a screenwriter. A script whose premise and well-defined characters jump off the page is “producer-bait” because it’s easy to attract great talent and readily appeals to any marketing team.
The scenes from Freaky Friday and Superman: The Movie demonstrate the intricate challenge of writing to concept. These scenes’ few minutes of screen time incorporate practically all of the unique elements inherent in their overall setup. To achieve this, think of your concept as a piece of clay, and try to utilize its elasticity to create the most interesting shapes, without breaking it.
This is the process of discovering all of the situations, scenes, conflicts, and complications that organically ensue from your unique setup and then choosing only the best ones.
8
TH
EME: BUILDING YOUR CASE
Theme is the truth about the world conveyed by your story. If it is indeed true and universal, the viewer may relate to theme more deeply than to plot or even story. We don’t have to be freedom fighters to understand the power of love revealed at the end of Casablanca. We may have never been in a fistfight, but we have all been the underdog at some point in our lives and we know that Rocky is about more than just boxing.
The majority of the expression of your theme is found among the big-picture elements of your story. It solidifies itself in the climax of the film and in the way the protagonist resolves her dilemma.
An ending actually has three parts: the crisis (the impending choice to be made), the climax (the choice is made), and the resolution or aftermath (the consequences of the choice). Your character’s final choice and the brief depiction of the resulting consequences of that choice coalesce to form a syllogism—a logical deduction—about the world. Think of it this way:
If faced with this certain circumstance, and you make this specific choice, from the ensuing consequences we can generally surmise that the world works this way.
When Annie in Sleepless in Seattle makes the choice to leave the safety and practicality of Walter for a chance at something new and unknown with Sam, the filmmakers leave us with a hopeful but inconclusive ending. The film takes a clear stance on what love means. The shift in values that Annie embraces suggests that love, in its fullest embodiment, involves risk-taking, magic, fatefulness, and a willingness to endure the unknown.
If we look at the three films in the Godfather trilogy as one story, the theme emanates from the events’ logical progression. Sonny (James Caan) was too much of a hothead to protect the family and its business. Although Michael’s coolness yields short-term results, let’s see where it leads us by the end of the trilogy:
If you become so cold that you treat family like business—resulting in actions such as killing your own brother for his petty betrayals—you will destroy everything important to you and die alone.
On a lighter note, at the end of Superbad, Seth (Jonah Hill) and Evan (Michael Cera) decide to split up at the mall so that each of them can spend time alone with a female friend. This suggests a coming-of-age statement: