Words in Action

by Paolo Braga

  A good rule to keep in mind when writing dialogue is that when subtext emerges within the text, conflict explodes then wears down. At the same time, the opposition between the two characters is resolved. This is why a screenwriter must maintain conflict within subtext, ensuring that characters interact and struggle with each other as long as possible. Subtext also leads to a climax. The moment conflict is openly discussed is the same moment the film reaches its high point. Once we reach the main scene, where tension is at its height, the main character has matured enough to grab the bull by the horns and risk revealing his true self. Once this tension has been released from the story, the antagonist, from a dramatic point of view, is no longer necessary. Consequently, the end of this conflict is now met with ease.

  In The Devil Wears Prada, for example, only in their final dialogue does Miranda tell Andy she wants to mould her in her own image: “I never thought I would say this, Andrea, but I really… I see a great deal of myself in you. You can see beyond what people want, and what they need, and you can choose for yourself.”

  A similar “insult” can be seen in The Truman Show (directed by Peter Weir, written by Andrew Niccol, USA 1998). At the end of the film, Cristoph (Ed Harris), the producer who keeps Truman imprisoned, tells Truman that his need for truth is blocked by his own fear (“There’s no more truth out there than in the world I created for you. The same lies, the same deceit. But in my world, you have nothing to fear…”). At this same moment, another character, the villain, talks directly to the protagonist about a painful weakness that has always prevented him from running away. Until now, Truman has always faced fear in his own way, in silence, surrendering to it, without voicing it or listening to it when hearing it spoken by someone else, and thus, never completely admitting it existed.

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  Reason three: subtext holds an audience’s interest

  A scene with subtext is more engaging. The audience is captivated and focused on the unspoken words as it tries to understand the character’s real intentions and figure out just how far he or she will go to bring the real matter to the surface. The audience easily explores these meanings, inspired by their own pleasure of seeking out a hidden truth and satisfied by their ability to do so.

  Subtext “serves” the image, thus adding value to the film. Unspoken words keep an audience more focused on the images while enhancing the drama of what is actually spoken. The viewer must continually shift his attention back and forth from what he hears to what he sees to interpret the hidden thoughts of the characters. He dissects the meaning of gestures and carefully examines all close-ups, looking for clues to confirm what he has inferred from the words.

  In the previous scene from The Insider, the eyes of the audience are fixed on Lowell’s (Al Pacino) face, following the struggle between his desire to know (subtext) and his inability to ask directly (his gestures and his observant, but intentionally relaxed, expression). Likewise, Lowell’s eyes are fixed on Wigand’s (Russel Crowe) face, looking for any confirmation that he might want to reveal what he knows, all of which takes place through subtext.

  The following are two more classic examples.

  In The Silence of the Lambs (directed by Jonathan Demme, written by Ted Tally, USA 1991), when serial killer Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins) welcomes detective Clarice (Jodie Foster) into an underground psychiatric prison with the gentlemaness of a very well-bred man, the audience immediately picks up on the subtext and begins studying Hopkins’ face, trying to figure out what lies behind his kindness, searching for a glimpse of the beast.

  The same happens in the legendary beginning of The Godfather (directed by Francis Ford Coppola, written by Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo, USA 1972). Don Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando) is implored by a distraught acquaintance to avenge his daughter’s ill fate. Corleone asks one thing in return, that the man join the mafia. While Brando’s character appears that of a calm and quiet man, the audience ← 101 | 102 → cannot help but readily wait for a sign of Corleone’s ruthlessness (understood through the subtext) to show on his face.

  Reason four: subtext can be acted out

  Movement, expression, looks, subtle gestures, tone of voice, speaking fast or slow – all these elements of acting are inspired by subtext. If lines have no subtext, actors are limited to reading the words on the script without being able to enrich them with their own talent. The meaning is exhausted by the words themselves and the actors can do nothing more than repeat them47.

  If the eyes do not convey a state of mind, if posture, physical energy and hesitation do not communicate subtext and complete the sense of a sentence by creating further meaning, nothing but emphasis has been added. An actor’s talent is limited by spoken words and inspired by unspoken words. Subtext stimulates talent, encouraging the creation of everything that behind and around the lines of dialogue.

  Professional screenplays normally refrain from describing in great detail the behavior of a character or the way lines should be said. That’s the actors’ job. It is a rule of thumb that a screenwriter should not invade the space of the actor. Actors must have the freedom to interpret the script and grasp the meaning of the subtext from the situation itself, making it discernible to the audience in the most intriguing way possible48.

  ← 102 | 103 → A screenplay, for example, would never use all the parentheses we use in this book to explain the logical rhythm of the dialogue. We use parentheses for their practicality and usefulness in clarifying concepts of scenes that have already been filmed. The actors’ contribution is, thus, a permanent part of the dialogue and cannot be ignored.

  Two kinds of subtext

  There are two main ways to create dramatic subtext. Screenwriters can create it using the character’s need or the character’s possible hidden goal. Depending on which of these two elements are used in the dialogue, subtext can be “deep” (linked to a character’s existential core) or “strategic” (how clever the character is in achieving his goal while avoiding conflict)49.

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  Deep subtext

  A character’s need for internal fulfillment may cause the character to become uncomfortable with himself and others. Even though this makes him suffer, it can be hard to admit. The difficulty of change is linked to the difficulty of calling oneself into question. Referring back to our example from The Truman Show, Truman needs the truth, but is afraid of the risks truth brings.

  Referring to the moral need of somebody is like striking a raw nerve. It puts one in a position of vulnerability, risking a defensive and unwanted reaction only because people, including characters, instinctually protect the most intimate parts of their personalities. Caution is required. In a dialogue about need, caution becomes subtext, or rather, an indirect reference to that same need. From the screenwriter’s point of view, the development of deep, well-defined characters that have a need, creates the opportunity for dialogue with subtext.

  Deep subtext is characterized by a specific, dramatic tone and by a specific, fundamental, unspoken thought. Even though each situation is unique, deep subtext is active when the speaker with a moral need finds himself in front of another speaker who is, indirectly, telling him:

  “You and I both know it. You’re afraid to be who, deep down, you know you should be and who you want to be.”

  Deep subtext between two characters is developed within the limits of this implicit and mutual thought50.

  Many of the examples of dialogue considered thus far have a subtext generated by need. In Munich, Carl “congratulates” Avner, who has just become a father, for murder (“mazeltov”). In doing this, Carl draws the main character’s attention to the widening gap between himself and ← 104 | 105 → justice. Avner needs to obtain justice to really feel at home in his homeland. This inner conflict is what provides the basis for subtext.

  In The Devil Wears Prada, Miranda doesn’t respond to Andy’s greeting because she knows that such an affectionate gesture would bring out the best in
her, a part of herself that she abandoned for the sake of her career and success. This is why her appearance remains hostile. Yet once she is alone in her car, safe from the judgmental stares of others, Miranda lets the subtext come to the surface. She looks deep inside herself and her eyes reveal the person she would really like to be.

  In Lethal Weapon, Riggs tells Murtaugh his backstory. At the same time, through the subtext, he also tells Murtaugh that he cannot change who he is, even if he’d like to be his friend. Through this same subtext, Riggs asks Murtaugh to choose who he wants to be (a retired policemen or a mature man of action). The indirect meaning develops from the relationship both characters have with their true selves, the most authentic and sincere part of themselves.

  In The Best of Youth, Nicola is worried that Matteo is disappointed about having beaten up a protester. Yet the regret that Matteo masks behind his indifference (understood from the subtext), is a sign that there is still a part of the boy that has been saved from his wicked ways. Nicola invites Matteo outside the barracks to take a walk. The subtext allows us to see that this is actually an invitation for Matteo to experiment with the good, calm person he could become. The person that, deep down, even if he won’t admit it, he wants to be.

  As seen in this example, subtext is often a question of emotional tones and the distribution of dramatic charge in a scene. In fact, Nicola does not approach Matteo directly, neither as the psychiatrist he is or as his brother, he uses a bypass strategy. This strategy, however, is not the most important element of the scene. The audience is led to focus more on the moral message expressed in what is left unspoken (deep subtext) rather than on the communication strategy (strategic subtext). Tension is built because Matteo can’t bring himself to admit he is walking down the wrong moral path. The drama is based on Matteo’s implied reference to the person he would like to be, but which seems so unachievable at the moment.

  ← 105 | 106 → To fully explain the use of subtext based on a character’s need (deep subtext), we will analyze a dialogue that, similar to The Best of Youth, uses strategic subtext as well (the main character has an ulterior motive that cannot be revealed without causing trouble). As in the previous example, attention will be focused exclusively on the deep subtext. By doing so, what is left unspoken will express the dramatic essence of the character.

  The Next Three Days. “Goodbye”

  Sometimes a man must put everything at stake (including morality) to prevent destiny from tearing his family apart. This is the basis of John Brennan’s character (Russel Crowe) as a professor of literature in The Next Three Days (USA 2010). This thriller, directed by Paul Haggis, is a remake of Pour Elle (France 2007), which reflects on how much of our own lives and the lives of our loved ones (that we tend to take for granted), is left to chance.

  One morning, police burst into the Brennan home where John, his wife Lara and their son are having breakfast. Lara is arrested and accused – probably falsely due to a series of unfortunate coincidences – of homicide. She is found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. The picture Lara snaps just before her arrest seems to be the family’s last happy memory. The professor, however, refuses to allow all this to happen and the plot of the story reveals his secret and tenacious attempt to regain what destiny has robbed from him.

  John changes his whole existence. He leaves his child with his parents and starts using his own job as a cover, devoting all his time to his cause – to escape far away with Lara and his son.

  In pursuit of money and false documents, John submerges himself in the criminal underworld, putting his own life at stake and killing to avoid being killed. He looks for prohibited access into the prison and fails. Only destiny prevents him from being caught. Eventually, he devises a new plan. The day before the escape, he spends the night at his parents’ home. Neither his son or his parents have any idea of what he has been working on all these months. Now, in his childhood home, John’s dialogue is laced heavily with subtext based on need.

  ← 106 | 107 → THE SCENE. The professor arrives home at an unusual time. He hasn’t been his usual self lately and his behavior has not gone unnoticed. As John climbs the stairs for bed, his father George (Brian Dennehy), a reserved man, asks if everything is all right. John answers positively before disappearing up the stairs, but his old father remains there, full of doubt. As he hangs up John’s jacket, his suspicions are confirmed. Something is sticking out of the pocket. George pulls it out to see what it is. False documents and flight tickets. He understands.

  The next morning, as John and his son are leaving, George decides to tell his son that he is not alone in his struggle against destiny. He can’t speak openly, however, because his wife and grandson are present and don’t know what is going on.

  His strong feelings are clearly communicated by what is implied. His lines are few, but what all that matters is what both characters share beneath the lines, what they share through the subtext. Each gesture and glance is an unspoken line. Everything becomes clear in their exchange:

  George hands the jacket to his son. He holds it so that John instantly sees the documents sticking out of the pocket. The old man stares into Johns’ eyes for one split second, then lowers his gaze.

  Subtext: “I know everything. This is really serious.”

  As if in fear of being scolded, John lowers his gaze as well.

  Subtext: “Dad, try to understand me…”

  As John lowers his gaze, he sees his father stick out his hand, waiting to shake his son’s.

  Subtext: “You don’t need to explain. I know what it means to have a family. I’m not going to stop you. Say goodbye to your father.”

  The son shakes his father’s hand and George pulls him in for a hug. One line is spoken as they embrace. The subtext emerges in the text.

  GEORGE

  (quietly)

  Goodbye.

  ← 107 | 108 → They pull out of their embrace and George looks deep into his son’s eyes.

  Subtext: “Now go, and be strong.”

  John looks back at him. He nods slightly.

  Subtext: “Thank you, for everything.”

  The professor walks toward the door with his child. He stops and looks back into the kitchen where is father is with his mother. The woman does not realize what is going on.

  John looks into George’s eyes.

  Subtext: “I will never see her again…”

  George answers, maintaining eye contact with his son.

  Subtext: “I will explain everything to her…”

  John tries to keep his voice even:

  JOHN

  Bye mom.

  He looks at his father one last time.

  Subtext: “I will be strong.”

  John leaves.

  George sits down, feeling tried. Even though he has seemingly managed to completely contain his emotions, his wife has noticed something different about him and can’t help but comment:

  MRS.BRENNAN

  You’re getting sentimental in your

  old age.

  GEORGE

  Yeah. Well

  (a pause)

  Might as well have some coffee…

  ← 108 | 109 → What a clever way to end the scene. It is not often you find out that your son has been planning a jailbreak.

  After such a moving moment, in a film wrought with tension, the screenwriter effectively loosens the tension without any sloshy sentimentalism. The audience is allowed to recharge as the film smoothly returns to its action mode.

  Pour Elle (directed by Fred Cavayé, who co-wrote the screenplay with Guillaume Lemans) has a similar scene that contains a few small, but significant, differences.

  The French film subtly leads the audience to believe that the father (Olive Perrier) and son (Vincent Lindon) have a strained relationship. Their communication is less articulate; they speak mostly through their eyes. The son lowers his gaze, fearful of a hostile reaction on his father’s behalf. His father, instead, hugs him tight. There is no han
dshake, no hint of approval, just a generic “I love you anyway” hidden in the subtext. The scene ends on the hug. There is no quick goodbye to his mother or any ironic remarks made by the father to relieve the tension.

  The acting and directing in the American re-make are much richer. The handshake, however, cannot be found even in the American screenplay, which only reads, “George grabs his son in an awkward hug.” George’s last few “ironic” lines are also missing from the shooting script. It is evident that the actors, screenwriter, and/or director have added both at the last minute.

  Strategic subtext

  A character with a hidden agenda that cannot be openly expressed (because it goes against the interests of those he is talking to, could damage his image or because his final objective is inappropriate or even dangerous depending on the context) has something to maintain in the subtext. This is even more true when the person he is talking to knows his secret. Thus, through the dialogue, the character will try to achieve what he wants through an indirect, alternative, non-conflictual approach.

  Like in the case of deep subtext, strategic subtext is characterized by a specific dramatic tone. Every character with an ulterior motive ← 109 | 110 → picks up on an unspoken, fundamental thought lingering in the subtext of the other character:

  “We both know where you’re trying to go with this, what you really want.”

  This kind of dialogue is an alternative route to persuasion. It counts on the other person’s support and is often seen in negotiations. One person protects the result he wants. The other knows this and verbalizes his requests accordingly.