by Paolo Braga
40For this reason, screenwriting technique for dialogue, in spite of its emphasis on conflict, can’t be used to argue in favor of those semiotic theoretical perspective that consider, in different measure, aggressiveness as an inevitable part of communicative interaction. It is the case, for example, of Roland Barthes’s thought and of the one of Algirdas Julien Greimas. See on these points, respectively, Marco Maggi, Roland Barthes, in Gianfranco Bettetini, Sergio Cigada, Savina Raynaud, Eddo Rigotti, (eds.), Semiotica II. Configurazione disciplinare e questioni contemporanee, La Scuola, Brescia 2003, pp. 87-139 and Paolo Braga, La semiotica strutturale generativa di Algirdas Julien Greimas, in Bettetini et al. (eds.), Semiotica II, cit. pp. 87-139. In film dialogue, conflict stems from the fact that achieving values entails effort and sacrifice, not necessarily from the impulse to hurt the antagonist.
41Two thorough analyses of this aspect of McKee’s thought can be found in: Armando Fumagalli, L’happy end fra logiche narrative e richieste del mercato in Maria Pia Pozzato, Giorgio Grignaffini (eds.), Mondi seriali. Percorsi semiotici nella fiction, RTI - Link Ricerca, Milan 2008, pp. 139-157 and in Paolo Braga, “Il reframing argomentativo su istituzioni e valori nella pratica di sceneggiatura” in Marco Carapezza, Francesca Piazza (eds.), Linguaggio e istituzioni. Discorsi, monete, riti, special monographic issue of Rivista Italiana di Filosofia del Linguaggio, 2014.
42Saying that values are the very core of the art of storytelling means that fiction is a powerful resource to improve our knowledge of good and evil, to train our moral conscience following characters and the way they face their dilemmas. The literary theory by Wayne C. Booth has strong arguments in favor of this idea. See for example Idem, The Rhetoric of Fiction, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 1961 and Idem, The Company We Keep. An Ethics of Fiction, University of California Press, Berkeley-Los Angeles-London 1988. It is a fruitful approach also in the study of cinema and TV fiction. See on this topic Gianfranco Bettetini, Armando Fumagalli, Quel che resta dei media. Idee per un’etica della comunicazione, FrancoAngeli, Milan 1998 (2010 updated edition) and Paolo Braga, Dal personaggio allo spettatore: il coinvolgimento nel cinema e nella serialità televisiva americana, FrancoAngeli, Milan 2003. Mainstream U.S. cinema and contemporary U.S. TV series have followed two different storytelling approaches regarding values. While mainstream cinema is based on the archetype of the hero, TV drama has concentrated on the archetype of the antihero. The reasons of this differentiation and its cultural implications are discussed in Armando Fumagalli, Creatività al potere. Da Hollywood alla Pixar, passando per l’Italia, Lindau, Turin 2013 and in Paolo Braga, “La crisi del padre nelle serie cable statunitensi: i casi di Mad Men, Breaking Bad e In Treatment” in Comunicazioni Sociali, Journal of Media, Performing Arts and Cultural Studies, n.3 (2014), pp. 339-451. Some interesting considerations on the attention paid to values by cinematic storytelling can also be found in: Francesco Arlanch, Vite da film. Il film biografico nel cinema di Hollywood e nella televisione italiana, FrancoAngeli, Milan 2008; Raffaele Chiarulli, Di scena a Hollywood: l’adattamento dal teatro nel cinema americano classico, Vita e Pensiero, Milan 2013.
43The origin of this dialogue comes from the final part of the speech that Adams ends up winning over the guests with. These last lines, in fact, are very famous in America and are taken from a piece of a letter the statesman wrote to his wife from France. “I must study politics and war, that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history, naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture in order to give their children a right to study paintings, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelain” (cfr. David McCullough, John Adams, Simon & Shuster, New York 2001, pp. 236-237). In this letter, Adams generally complains about how the Parisians’ finesse can weaken one’s character. Having understood, from the biography on Adams, that he was not particularly fond of Madame Hélvetius, the screenwriter put the two things together, creating a context and dialogue in which the sentences that are full of pathos from the letter become a brilliant climax with an extra value of irony that cannot be found, even in the letter.
← 90 | 91 →
Chapter 2
Dialogue and subtext
With a nose for news and a passion for his job, Lowell Bergman (Al Pacino) is the chief journalist for 60 Minutes (the legendary investigative reporting broadcast on CBS). When the journalist finds himself skimming through a classified Philip Morris (the tobacco company) dossier, he decides he needs an expert to help analyze the information and is referred to Wigand (Russel Crowe), a chemist employed by a tobacco company.
Lowell tries to contact Wigand, but is slighted in his attempts. At first Wigand’s wife refuses to put him through. Lowell then leaves a message on Wigand’s answering machine, but the message is ignored. Eventually an appointment is made via fax, but only after a lengthy (and intriguing) exchange of messages (Lowell’s first fax: “Please, call me at…”. Wigand’s faxed reply: “I can’t talk to you…”. Lowell’s second fax: “Can’t talk to me? Won’t talk to me? Don’t want to talk to me…?”. Wigand’s faxed reply: “Can’t. Won’t. Don’t want to…”).
The meeting between the reporter and the chemist is a scene from The Insider (written by Eric Roth, USA 1999) that director Michael Mann uses to explain subtext44. Two dialogue exchanges run parallel in this scene ‒ one that is spoken and one that is unspoken. The unspoken dialogue (subtext) makes known the real subject of the meeting and discloses important facts.
THE SCENE. Lowell reads the New York Times (Wigand’s cue that it is Lowell) as he waits for Wigand in the hall of a Louisville hotel. The chemist arrives without even acknowledging the other’s presence and ← 91 | 92 → the two head upstairs to the journalist’s room. This is when the dialogue takes place.
First, there is what Lowell knows about Wigand.
The chemist’s roundabout responses during their “faxed conversation” cause Lowell to suspect that Wigand may have come into possession of important information and may be willing to share it. Wigand’s tension only confirms Lowell’s hunch. All it takes is a knock on the door by room service to arouse his suspicions. Nonetheless, the chemist tries to take charge of the meeting, remarking how busy he is and how little time he has to talk.
Secondly, there is what Lowell doesn’t know about Wigand, but what the audience does know.
Lowell does not know that Wigand has recently been fired and that this event has taken a toll on his marriage. Lowell also does not know (and neither does the audience for that matter) that Wigand has been fired from Brown & Williamson, a multinational tobacco company, where he was a top manager. After years of collusion, Wigand was fired for having rebelled against the company’s secret use of carcinogenic substances to increase addiction in cigarette consumers.
The point is, Wigand did not agree to meet this newshound to decipher a document that may or may not be important. Wigand has come to give Lowell information that has nothing to do with the Philip Morris’ dossier, explosive information regarding the criminal conduct of another multinational tobacco company. A dangerous enemy. This explains why Wigand is so nervous and so reluctant to talk.
Once both are sitting opposite each other in the hotel room, Lowell tries to put Wigand at ease. He tries to contain his own instinctive desire to get straight to the point. Al Pacino plays the part with an insightful eye and a relaxed demeanor.
LOWELL
Is there anything you want to know
about me, Mr. Wigand…?
Subtext: “If you have something important to say, I’m the right guy.”
← 92 | 93 → WIGAND
(Setting the tone)
Like what? Your sign? I know what I
have to know.
Subtext: “I still haven’t told you that I have something important to say. And I’ve already got the information I need, which isn’t much if you only need some good scientific advice.”<
br />
LOWELL
Just so I know you know, when I
talk to people in confidence, it
stays that way.
Subtext: “You have something important for me. I know you want to tell me.”
WIGAND
How did a radical journalist from
Ramparts Magazine end up at CBS?
Subtext: “How can I trust a man that gave into the system, who abandoned his own ideals for commercial TV? You see, I know everything I need to know. I just don’t know your sign…”
LOWELL
I still do the tough stories. “60
Minutes” reaches a lot of people.
Subtext: “I am committed and faithful enough to what I believe in to use commercial TV to report inconvenient and even risky news. If there’s anything you’d like to say, apart from the scientific advice on these documents here, feel free.”
WIGAND
Let me see the documents…
Lowell hands them over. The chemist takes a look at them.
← 93 | 94 → WIGAND
This is a Fire-Safety Product Study
for Philip Morris. Burn rates…
ignition propensity… things of that
nature.
I could very easily explain it to
you in layman’s terms because it’s
from another company. But that’s as
far as I go…
Subtext: “You are interested in what I know, aren’t you?”
LOWELL
Far as you go where?
Subtext: “Yes, I am.”
WIGAND
This issue is a drop in the bucket.
I can talk to you about what’s in
here. But I can’t talk to you about
anything else…
Subtext: “And you should be, because… true, with respect to what you have here, the information I have is much more important. Persuade me into telling you…”
He pauses. Then, sets the tone once again:
WIGAND
I signed a confidentiality agreement.
I honor agreements… Doesn’t
CBS have confidentiality agreements,
Mr. Bergman?
LOWELL
Between journalists and management,
yes, I believe they do… but I don’t
take that seriously.
← 94 | 95 → Wigand’s subtext: “You’re asking me to step out on a limb. This is about my company, a giant, a corporation, just like your CBS. How do I know you’ll protect your sources? Would you be so trusting if you were in my shoes?”
Lowel’s subtext: “If I were you, I would say what I know, because you’re talking to a journalist who’s ready to break agreements with his bosses at CBS. He’s no slave of the system. And he never breaks agreements with his sources, those are serious, confidentiality agreements.”
Lowell has figured out the secret information regards Wigand’s company and he goes in for the attack, striving forward.
LOWELL
Where do you work?
Subtext: “Come on, let’s start talking for real. Tell me everything you know.”
Yet the journalist has gone too far. His statement reminds the chemist that he is newly unemployed. Wigand grows sad.
WIGAND
Did work.
LOWELL
Did work?
Lowell’s subtext: “Interesting. Does this have something to do with the information you have?”
Wigand becomes nervous.
WIGAND
How much would I get paid?
Subtext: “I changed my mind. I’ll just give you that scientific advice you need on these documents. That’s it.”
Lowell takes a step back, feigning indifference:
← 95 | 96 → LOWELL
That, you have to discuss with
CBS Business Affairs. But, for
something like this, I would say
anywhere between 10, 12 thousand.
Subtext: “Okay. I won’t force you. It’s up to you.”
WIGAND
Should I just take the documents
now?
Subtext: “Indeed, I’ve thought about it and I’ve made up my mind.”
LOWELL
If you want to do it.
Lowell’s subtext: “As you want. Just the scientific advice then, are you sure?”
Lowell is just about to give up when Wigand suddenly looks him straight in the eye with conviction.
WIGAND
I worked as the head of Research
and Development for the Brown &
Williamson Tobacco Company. I was
a Corporate Vice President. Mr.
Bergman…
Subtext: “Alright, I’ll be your source. I’ll give you the information you want, but brace yourself. This is some hot news. What’s more, I’m like a bomb ready to explode, you have no idea. This is not just some tip-off about Big Tobacco… I worked at the top, with the big guys. I know everything there is to know and I can prove that the highest ranks know what’s corrupt with the system and that that’s the way they want it to remain.”
The chemist leaves the room holding the dossier. Lowell watches him walk down the hallway, then closes the door and goes over to the ← 96 | 97 → window. He looks down the street towards the entrance of a nearby skyscraper. The sign over the door reads “Brown & Williamson.”
Michael Mann, both director and screenwriter, comments on the climax of the scene explaining Wigand’s thoughts as: “I’m here to resurrect some of my dignity, because I’ve been fired, and that’s why I dressed up this way [Wigand is wearing a double-breasted suit, unusual for him] and that’s why I have these patrician, corporate-officer attitudes.”
Mann emphasizes how Lowell’s intuition shone through Al Pacino’s eyes, who, until that moment, had studied Wigand like two lasers (“laser-scans Jeffrey with his eyes”). Mann continues, “Without hitting anything on the head with exposition, without any of that awful dialogue, like ‘Boy, have I got a lead which may give us the newsbreak of the decade’.”
On the surface, the dialogue has been crafted to convey a negative, defensive tone (“No, I won’t do anything more than provide you with scientific advice”). The real conversation, however, which is never openly discussed, conveys much deeper meaning. It is a secret “yes”, an accord masked behind a negative answer. Even in the final lines of the scene, Wigand agrees to nothing more than providing scientific advice on the documents that he takes with him as he leaves.
Dramatic Subtext
“Characters mean much more than what they say.”
“There is always a hidden meaning between the lines of dialogue.”
“The truth beneath the words.”
Screenwriting manuals use these descriptions to define subtext, the second most important element, after conflict, of dialogue in film45.
← 97 | 98 → These definitions are quite broad, however, and do not specifically link subtext and drama. Thus, in a strictly dramatic sense, we can define subtext as what characters refrain from saying directly to each other in fear of provoking open and unpleasant conflict46. The following pages will focus on this in greater detail.
Conflict can arise not only between two characters, but within the character himself. Inner conflict is present within a character when, for example, openly confronting a subject means admitting his own weaknesses, dealing with unresolved parts of his own personality and/or parts of his life he does not easily accept.
In the above conversation, Lowell does not directly ask Wigand to tell him what he knows because he sympathizes with Wigand’s fears. The reporter feels that forcing the chemist to talk would cause him harm. If Lowell had disregarded Wigand’s fears, without allowing him to decide, on his own terms, both how and when to make the next step, the chemist would have thought he was only a ruthless journalist interested in the latest scoop, a reporter that wanted to use him to achieve his own success. Lowell does not
want to trigger a negative reaction or be rejected, and for this reason he uses implied and evasive signals.
Wigand, on the other hand, knows that talking to a journalist is not only a way for him to break free from his past, it’s a declaration of war. Unspoken words create a safety net, a space where Wigand can establish the reporter’s reliability, show his reluctance and still hold onto the ← 98 | 99 → option of changing his mind while avoiding an open confrontation with his past. Furthermore, even when something important is revealed (“I was a corporate Vice President”), the full meaning still remains below the surface. Wigand says just enough to emphasize the gravity of what is at stake (as Lowell is left to conclude) while sparing himself the consequences of openly making a decision.
Why use subtext
Reason one: it reflects real life
Subtext is used in films primarily because it is true to life, it is normal. It corresponds with the credible psychological behavior that people maintain when they are having a conversation that may lead to conflict.
On one hand, implied conversation about delicate subject matter allows speakers to study one another, carefully ponder the unpleasant consequences of becoming too explicit, then decide if they should change strategies and/or goals, pretending that nothing was really implied at all, or not.
On the other hand, a dialogue between people whose ideas have reason to collide is often laced with the hope that one speaker will suddenly begin doing or saying what the other wants him to, without ever having to become direct. Thus, on the surface, it does not seem that the speaker has spoken out of fear (fear of the consequences of conflict) because such fears have never been spoken.
Reason two: subtext creates tension
Subtext generates tension, tension that builds in anticipation of an effect.
A screenplay is a device that assigns characters opposing goals and gives them powerful, mounting motivations to keep them from ← 99 | 100 → giving up when things become difficult. The audience knows subtext is short-lived ‒ sooner or later conflict explodes. Conflict builds even more through implied speech, building up the audience’s curiosity and fear as well. Unspoken words foreshadow open conflict, making the audience more alert, uncertain and extremely interested in the outcome.