Movie Outline Screenwriting Blog

Yep, they can make it – and they can break it!  In one fell swoop you have to tie-up any loose ends and satisfy an audience’s expectation.  Not an easy task, right?  Absolutely not.  In fact, as a working screenwriter I have found writing a satisfying ending to be one of the hardest parts of the creative writing process.

Don’t get me wrong, I can write endings.  I can write all types of endings.  Endings with a final climactic showdown between the hero and villain.  Endings with a witty line that leaves the audience with a smile.  Endings with a sad yet uplifting tone.  I can write endings in my sleep.. but that doesn’t mean they are always going to be the best ending for the story.  Perfection is hard to attain.  We all try to create the perfect scene, the perfect witty banter, the perfect character arc and the perfect ending, but linking all of this together is complicated.  We have to fulfill expectations on so many levels and at the same time make it original and entertaining.

And things get even more difficult when you’re trying to please a producer, director and development executive because everybody has their own ideas of what needs to transpire in the closing moments of your movie.. which by that point is technically “their” movie or optimistically “our” movie.  The best advice is to keep it real and inevitable.  Don’t just tag on a twist you haven’t set up.  An ending needs to evolve naturally.  To be organic.

If you can create an a) original ending that b) entertains but more crucially c) resolves the central character’s journey, d) hints at the theme and e) either makes you laugh, cry or leaves you wanting more then you are onto a winner.  The feeling an audience needs to walk out of the movie theater with is one of “satisfaction”.  Sure, they may argue about who killed who, what that blue ornament on the mantelpiece represented, and why the director filmed it in Seattle rather than London, but ultimately they need to feel intellectually content with the resolution that was presented to them.

I hate movies that either give us a predictable ending (lazy screenwriting and filmmaking) or shove a truck load of exposition down our throats just to explain the plot.  If it’s that complicated then the writer has made some poor decisions somewhere down the line.  If you need to telegraph to the audience that the hero or heroine has changed, through dialogue or a clunky visual device, then that’s equally as irritating.

The best endings just “feel right” when you write them and watch them.  They may sometimes surprise you, not necessarily out of an intentional creative choice by the writer, but by the script itself which by the end of the story should have a life of its own.  Like putting that final piece of the puzzle into place and then stepping back to take it all in for the first time, an effective ending completes the picture.  And endings, like that final piece, should never need to be forced into position.. they should just slip into place as if they were always destined to be there.

Sometimes as writers we get so caught up with developing the crucial elements of a screenplay such as character arcs, plot logic, theme, structure and snappy dialogue that we forget how important it is to write effective scene to scene transitions.  Of course, you don’t want this kind of thing to hinder your creative flow but at some point, perhaps the day after writing a scene, or during the first rewrite, I encourage you to pay attention to this stylistic aspect of your screenplay.

You have probably read books or articles in which many screenwriting professionals recommend that you do not include camera directions and musical choices in your script, and for the most part this is true, they should be left for the director, but I do think that sometimes it is acceptable to include these stylistic elements in your script because they help to set the scene, evoke an emotion and reveal your screenwriter’s voice.

Writing an effective scene to scene transition can help crank up the pace or even provide a subtle subtext through sound and visuals that enhance a piece of dramatic script writing.

An example would be these two scenarios:

a)    A husband and wife argue at home late at night.  The wife ends the row by slamming the bathroom door shut.  We then cut to the next day and a wide shot of a car factory, within which is the husband, hard at work on the production line.

This example tells the story but how about this alternative:

b)    Cut from the door slam to a close-up of a hammer hitting a piece of metal.  We then reveal the husband working in a car factory pounding a car door.

The second scenario tells the same story but adds impact through the use of transition and carries the undertone of frustration from the end of one scene through to the beginning of another, suggesting that the argument, while over, is not forgotten and is still playing on the husband’s mind.  Visually it is also more powerful.

Be innovative with your scene transitions. Dissolve from a ticking clock in one location to a broken clock in another.  Cut from a burglar getting away to a barking dog chasing a ball.  But remember, don’t get carried away and overuse these stylistic choices because if you try to be too clever with every transition they will start to stick out like a sore thumb and cumulatively have a negative affect on your screenplay. In short, pay attention to detail. This may just be the icing on the cake but is important none the less.

Constructing an original, entertaining and intelligent plot is hard work, but that should not mean you should settle for the easy option when writing a screenplay.  In fact, the opposite should apply.  If it’s difficult to come up with something original then push yourself as a screenwriter that much harder.  Force yourself to be innovative because if you do you will undoubtedly produce something much more engaging and satisfying for an audience in the process.

Many writers of fiction, especially crime fiction, use a MacGuffin in complicated plots to drive a story forward, and Alfred Hitchcock (who coined the term) was one of them.  The whole point of the MacGuffin is that it is irrelevant. As Hitchcock himself explained, the MacGuffin is: “the device, the gimmick, if you will, or the papers the spies are after… The only thing that really matters is that in the picture the plans, documents or secrets must seem to be of vital importance to the characters. To me, the narrator, they’re of no importance whatsoever.”

In the golden era of Hollywood, writers and directors were never always as concerned as their modern day counterparts to get all the facts straight.  So long as the women looked sexy, the men looked rugged and there were guns and chases the Hollywood Execs were happy.  To illustrate the point, you may have heard about the classic Howard Hawkes movie The Big Sleep with Bogart and Bacall, based on the novel by Raymond Chandler.

In the story there was confusion surrounding the death of the Sternwood family chauffeur, a character named Owen Taylor. Apparently somebody sent a telegram to Raymond Chandler asking him “Who killed the chauffeur?”.  He replied “Damned if I know.”  It’s an amusing anecdote but I know that from my experience when developing a screenplay with producers and development executives that you must have an answer for everything and that nobody would be impressed with a reply like that.

So to avoid such professional faux pas and to make  sure the logic of your crime thriller is coherent I suggest you do your utmost as a writer to iron out all the creases in your plot BEFORE you present it to anyone.  And most importantly, do not rely on coincidence to be the solution.  If you hero just happens to find a gun under the bed during a frantic struggle with his nemesis then that’s poor penmanship.  If your heroine loses her job and then just happens to bump into someone who offers her another, that’s lazy.

As always, there are exceptions to the rule and sometimes a particular story or genre can get away with it so long as it’s an intentional screenwriting choice and clear to the audience as such.  But generally you should set up events so they do not seem coincidental.  If it strikes you as obvious then try to figure out another way around revealing a crucial piece of information or engineering a chance meeting without it being too contrived.  If that fails, you could always try to conceal your coincidence behind a powerful moment of action or drama and hope the audience don’t notice!

When we think of a hero in a movie we immediately assume we are talking about the central character otherwise known as the Protagonist, but many stories conceal a multitude of heroes, often unsung, in secondary, supporting roles that are just as important to the narrative and Protagonist’s psychological development and physical journey.

Think of Obi-Wan Kenobi in the original “Star Wars”. He is a hero in his own right because he allows himself to be slain by Darth Vader in order to push Luke Skywalker toward the next stage in his journey. Without this sacrifice Luke would depend on his mentor to see him through the final conflict instead of believing in his own inner strength.  And that is the key to a good hero.  Someone who sacrifices their own needs – or indeed life – for the sake of the greater good.

When constructing a story, writers typically focus on the central plot and central character, and this normally results in villains and secondary characters entering the stage simply to support what has already been established.  This can inevitably lead to two-dimensional characters that become sounding boards or vessels for exposition, and a central storyline that makes sense but is unfulfilling to an audience.

Instead, try introducing well-defined, three-dimensional characters with their own lives and stories outside of the main plot and then weave these secondary stories around the central storyline, and design some of the Protagonist’s story choices around the secondary characters.  This may not always work and you should obviously never lose focus of the principle story and character but the process will open your mind to new avenues and hopefully create a more rounded and engaging narrative.

Treat every character as a hero, even the villains.  That’s right, villains are heroes of their own stories.  When we think of Alan Rickman’s enigmatic villain Hans Gruber in “Die Hard” we see a guy who wants to steal money and kill whoever gets in his way.  But perhaps there is more to his story than we know?  Perhaps the screenwriter explored a complex backstory for Gruber that never made it to the big screen – because it was unnecessary for an audience and would more than likely be overly expositional – but knowing about Gruber’s childhood and experiences may have helped shape the part.

I am sure that Alan Rickman didn’t just read the role as a villain and that was that.  Like all good actors, especially those who believe in “the method”, he may have tried to find a spark of humanity in Gruber, something he could use to justify Gruber’s actions.  Maybe Gruber’s father used to work for a big conglomerate like the Nakatomi Corporation and that they fired him and it lead to the break up and suicide of his father.  Gruber would of course never reveal this to his accomplices but for him, the heist meant more than money.  It was revenge and closure.  A salute to his father.

By understanding that EVERYONE in a movie has a story to tell and a life beyond the bounds of the movie screen and pages of a screenplay we can begin to view each role, from hero to grumpy waitress with only three lines, with the respect they deserve.  The truth is, that grumpy waitress is the way she is because her boss is a jerk, she has no love life and is working three jobs so she can afford to look after her sick mother.  She is the epitome of the “selfless hero” – but we’ll never know.

Writers’ Block.  It’s a killer.  We’ve all been there, happily tapping away at the keyboard at our latest and greatest movie script in a creative stream of consciousness when suddenly we reach a dead end. A brick wall faces us and we have nowhere to turn.  We try idea after idea but nothing makes any sense.  We start to get frustrated but can’t give up because it’s such an important scene.  Damn!  We have to solve this.  The pressure mounts.  And mounts..  But nothing.  Nada.  Zip.

“What am I gonna do?!” we think or perhaps exclaim out loud.

The whole script hinges on this particular plot point or piece of dialogue. If we can’t solve this we might as well trash the script.  Oh my God, I’m never gonna get that friggin’ Oscar! Okay, okay, calm down. Really, dude.  Take a breath.  It’s not that bad.  There is a solution.  All hope is not lost.. even though it may feel like it.

So, the solution.. what is it?  Simple. Actually, there are three:

1.  STEP AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER!

That’s right, folks, sometimes we get so caught up in the moment and our own self-imposed frustration that our mind ceases up and can’t process clearly.  The best thing to do in those situations is to take a break and do something else.  The script’s still going to be there when you get back.  I usually make myself a coffee and watch some TV.  Other times I take out the trash or put the washing on.  Whatever.  It doesn’t matter.  It’s simply the fact that you focus your mind on something other than writing for a while and this unclogs everything and gets the creative juices flowing again.

It works.  Trust me.  Been there, done that.  In fact, most of my best creative writing ideas have come away from the computer.  It’s the same principle as setting yourself a problem to solve as your head hits the pillow at night and then waking up the next morning with a clear head and 90% of the time a solution.  Somehow our subconscious brains keep on working behind the scenes and help us out.

2. MOVE ON TO ANOTHER SCENE

That’s right.  If you can’t figure out the solution just move on to the next scene or rewrite an earlier scene.  It’s the same principle yet again. By doing this you will be opening your mind to new ideas which will undoubtedly present themselves once you have disengaged from the stumbling block in question.  Sometimes focusing on another issue is the answer. Sometimes you may not get an answer right away but don’t stress yourself out by creating even more pressure, that’s just counterproductive.

3. REWRITE THE SCENE FROM A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE

Your third option is to rewind a few pages and then attack the troublesome scene from a new angle.  If the hero in the original draft jumps into his car and goes to the bank in order to confront his adulterous wife, maybe he is forced to take the bus because his car won’t start.  Maybe he has an accident on the way and ends up in the emergency ward.  Maybe he gets to the bank and she’s not there.  You see where I’m going here?  All of these ideas will give you new avenues to explore and whether or not they will end up in the final screenplay is not the point, it’s the process that is important.

Flashback can be a clever device or it can be an annoying one.  If you use it sparingly and don’t rely on it too heavily to tell your story then it can really help with the revelation of subplot, the recollection of key past events tied into your current plot, and the resurgence of repressed memories – sprinkling a little style at the same time.

When learning how to write a script, think of flashback as just another weapon in the screenwriter’s armoury. Sometimes it may help you, other times it may just get in the way or over-convolute the story, but if you use it correctly this device can be a fantastic visual aid.  Don’t use flashback because you are lazy.  If you can find another way of telling your backstory then be innovative and pursue a more creative route that doesn’t rely on exposition.

Only use flashback if there is no other way to convey past events or if you feel that introducing flashback (or indeed flash forward) will enhance the piece in a stylistic manner.  Sometimes writers even use flashback to intentionally confuse an audience or lead them down a particular path so as to turn the tables on them later on.

A great example of this was in The Usual Suspects where Kevin Spacey’s character retold past events to the cop Chazz Palminteri.  We bought the story he was feeding us hook, line and sinker. And why not?  We had no reason not to believe that what he was saying was the truth, and the director also presented the backstory as the truth with no hint to subterfuge.  Then, right at the crucial moment in the third act, the writer and director pulled the floor out from under us and revealed that Kevin Spacey had been lying and that he was in fact the villain of the piece Keyser Söze.

Flashback, like any screenwriting device, such as voice-over, can be used or abused.  Good writers use it in a way that enhances the narrative and character development of a movie without relying on it to solve plot problems.  Great script writers find innovative ways to play with this cool device so that it feels fresh yet at the same time familiar. The trick is, striking the perfect balance.