Q&A: October 2005 Archives

AnswerPalooza!A1: It’s All About Context

A reader wrote in asking about what makes a good twist good. He had an interesting head-start on the answer. It’s not enough to have a surprising ending; the surprising ending must also be logical.

I’d probably explain it more in terms of context. A good twist isn’t just a surprise; it’s a surprise that instantly recontextualizes the entire story.

The fact that Bruce Willis has been dead for the majority of The Sixth Sense recontextualizes every scene the audience has experienced, and it does so after the fact of the experience, which makes twist endings so fascinating. The audience is forced to re-evaluate the very story they thought they understood.

This is why good twist endings typically spawn excellent post-film discussion as well as repeat viewings. Some twist endings are so radical, they can literally warp one’s appreciation of the film itself. I hated Fight Club the first time I saw it because I simply couldn’t recontextualize the film fully after learning the twist. When I saw it the second time and was able to watch the film in forward fashion with the proper context, I absolutely loved it.

While comedies rarely have twists of this nature, I sometimes write jokes that require recontextualization. For instance, in Scary Movie 3, Cindy finds George passed out on a table. He comes to, rubbing his head, and when she asks him what happened, he says, “I don’t know. Cody and I were playing a game, and…” Then he looks down, sees five dice all on the number six, yells “Yahtzee!”, stands up in excitement, and smashes his head into a shelf. He’s knocked himself out.

Again.

Once that happens, you get to recontextualize the entire prior 20 seconds of film. I’ve watched that joke play in front of about ten audiences. There’s always a slight delay in the laugh. There’s a small laugh when he hits his head (surprise), then a second big laugh when they realize what this means (recontextualization).

A2: Leave Behinds Are Not A Good Idea

When some writers go off to pitch movies, they “leave behind” a document that outlines the story they’ve just pitched (or some version thereof).

I’m not a fan of this idea. My feeling is that professional writers must get paid for their ideas in fixed form, and that means no leave behinds. Furthermore, when you leave something behind, you’ve given the executive a piece of evidence that can be dissected and rejected concretely by their higher-ups. If the exec really likes the pitch, they have to then relay it to the boss. If the boss says, “I dunno…”, the exec will always say, “I’m not pitching it as well as they did. It’s great.”

A leave behind is proof of you, and if you wanted to make the sale based on written proof, well…you’d be writing a spec instead of pitching, right?

Don’t leave nuthin’ behind.

A3: I Start Wondering What’s Wrong With My Script

First of all, let me get this whole “screenwriting is a marathon” notion out of the way.

No, it’s not.

At all.

And if it feels like one, one of the following is true. Either there’s a major problem with your script, or you’re not cut out for writing screenplays.

When I get fidgety or antsy or bored or tired when writing my screenplay, it’s usually a sign that I’ve hit some dry, dysfunctional or cliched section of my story. If it’s not fun and exciting to write, then it won’t be fun and exciting to watch. I return to my treatment or outline, and I think about what’s gone wrong.

If you repeatedly find yourself dreading the work, if you keep praying to find yourself at the end of the process, if you view the second act as some sort of Bataan Death March, then it’s time to hang it up. Screenwriting is hard enough to do when you want to do it. If you’re dealing with a lack of will at the same time, what’s the point of torturing yourself?