Tài liệu Writing the short film 3th - Part 3 pdf

France are devoted to short films, including fictional, experimental, docu- mentary, and animated films. Besides CILECT, a growing number of film festivals worldwide have short film categories. Chicago, Toronto, and even Cannes show short films, and all of these festivals have been important launching points for the careers of the filmmakers. But both the CILECT-sponsored festivals and the larger international ones highlight short films as a path to the pro- duction of longer films, as an apprenticeship experience rather than an end in itself. Unlike the short story, which continues to be a lively, viable form, the short film is not widely and internationally recognized as some- thing to which artists devote their careers. Nevertheless, we believe that, just as the short story has experienced a ren- aissance in the past 15 years, so too it seems that a new and longer-term inter- est in the short film is developing; recent cable programming initiatives and specialty market developments suggest that it too may experience a renais- sance. One of the more promising developments at present for the short film is the combining of three or more shorts to produce a film that can be marketed as a feature. A recent example of this is writer/director Rebecca Miller’s well received first “feature,” Personal Velocity (2002)—three short films of under 30 minutes each, which are unified by theme, rather than location or use of the same actors. Each main character is a woman on the verge of a major change in her relationship to the man she lives with, and to the world. In the past, anthologies such as 6 in Paris (Paris vu Par . . . ) (1964), made up of six short films with six different directors such as Godard, Chabrol, and Rouch, were marketed as features. In this case, what unifies the film and makes it a viable whole is the fact that each short is located in, and represents life in, a different district of Paris. Another such successful anthology, shot by directors such as Cavalcanti and Deardon, is the British film, Dead of Night (1945), in which five people are gathered in a country house to tell ghost sto- ries. (In this film, the framing narrative itself becomes a terrifying tale.) In the present climate, and with the public’s growing interest in seeing short films, it would seem that any of these examples might offer a possible direc- tion for independent video and filmmakers, especially those working under the strictures of a low budget. THE RELATIONSHIP OF LONG TO SHORT FILM The usual long-form, or feature-length film, has a definite set of qualities beyond its physical length. There are particular expectations of character, complexity of plot, presence of a subplot or secondary story line, and a par- ticular structure (generally called a three-act structure). There are numerous 4 Writing the Short Film Intro.qxd 9/27/04 6:13 PM Page 4 secondary characters, and often particular genre forms are used, such as the gangster film or film noir. Are the characteristics of the short film variations of those of the long film? In most cases, no. It is true that the two forms rely on visual action for exposition and characterization, as well as on the illusion of reality inher- ent in the use of film as a visual medium. Beyond these two characteristics, however, the short film proceeds in both a simpler, and a potentially freer, manner. The simplicity lies in the restricted number of characters, often no more than three or four, and the level of plotting, which is usually a simple story. This does not mean that the main character is necessarily simple in the short film, but it does mean that an economy of style is employed to create that character. There is no time in the short film for the kind of pauses for elabo- ration of character so often deployed in the long film. The freedom of short film relative to long lies in the possibilities of using metaphor and other literary devices to tell the story—a luxury not available in the commercially driven, realism-oriented long film. Indeed, one of our major points about the short film is its linkage to literary forms such as the short story, the poem, the photograph, and the one-act play. Rust Hills, a well-known editor, characterizes the short story as a “story that tells of something that happened to someone. Second, the successful contemporary short story will demonstrate a more harmonious relationship of all its aspects than will any other literary art form excepting perhaps lyric poetry.” 1 He also suggests that the story is dynamic, that the character is moved in the course of experience of the story, and that there are few sec- ondary characters and no subplot. Often the story will unfold around a choice that presents itself to the character, who never returns to his or her former state; closure is attained by virtue of making or avoiding that choice. 2 Rust Hills’s observations about the short story could be as readily applied to the short film. Although many books have been written about screenwriting, with few exceptions they are concerned with writing the long film. Most recent books have focused on structure and have moved away from the Aristotelian con- cerns of their predecessors. Consequently, the relevance of these books to the writing of the short film posits an analogy between the structure of the short film and that of the long, in essence a three-act structure. This rela- tionship between short and long film, both in proportion and in form, is at best tenuous. The long-form, act-length proportion is 1:2:1 (30 minutes, Act I; 60 minutes, Act II; 30 minutes, Act III). In a short film of 15 to 30 minutes, it is doubtful that this proportion would hold. The catalytic event that would begin the action of the film, which could be viewed as the beginning of Act II, must come much more quickly than a quarter of the way into the film. Indeed, in the short film, if we use the long-form act proportion or Introduction 5 Intro.qxd 9/27/04 6:13 PM Page 5 three-act structure, we find that both Act I and Act II are very short, because the setting up of the story (Act I) must be fast. Without the characterization and relationships of Act II, the conventional conflicts of the long-form Act II also move quickly, which leaves the largest proportion of the short film for the character to find a resolution—often a problem. In many short films, a one- or two-act structure might be a more productive writing device. The upshot is that much of what has been written about screenwriting in gen- eral is not very helpful for the writing of short films. THE SHAPE OF THIS BOOK We have structured this book into four sections, the first dealing with the underlying fundamental characteristics of the short screenplay; the second moving the writer from the fundamentals to strategies for storytelling, visu- alization, dramatization, character, and dialogue; the third dealing with forming the story; and the last pointing out future directions. Since the process of writing the short film should be an organic one, we begin with the idea and move the writer through the various phases of the actual writing and rewriting of the script. Where relevant, chapters will include exercises intended to guide the writer in writing the best script pos- sible. We believe that writing is a mix of talent and technique. We can teach you the technique and provide exercises to elicit creative solutions to writing problems, but in the end, it is your unique voice that will make your film story different from every other film story. NOTES 1. Rust Hills, Writing in General and the Short Story in Particular (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1977), 1. 2. Ibid., 1–11. 6 Writing the Short Film Intro.qxd 9/27/04 6:13 PM Page 6 PART I FUNDAMENTALS: BREAKING GROUND The story resembles a wind filtering through the cracks in a wall: it gives evidence of the vastness. It provides a mobility through time and space To enter a story, one must give up being oneself for a while. Self-abandonment to a story is probably one of the crucial forms of human experience, since few cultures have been discovered which did not value it. PAUL ZWEIG, The Adventurer Ch01.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 7 Ch01.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 8 1 STORYTELLING IN GENERAL Anyone who has ever been confronted by a small child’s searching gaze or seen an infant gulp down its surroundings with its eyes (Where am I? Who are you? What’s going on here?) will recognize that from early in their lives, human beings have an intense need to understand the world around them, to make sense of things. Inventing and embellishing stories are ways to sat- isfy that need; the first stories human beings told themselves and one another were about how everything in the world came into being, how things came to be the way they are. A WORKING DEFINITION For the purposes of this book, which deals with writing the short screenplay of 30 minutes’ length or less, we will define a story as any narration of events or incidents that relates how something happened to someone. The “some- one” will be considered the main character of a story, and if the element of causality is added to the telling of how something happened to that charac- ter, the story will be considered to have a plot. In his book Aspects of the Novel, novelist E. M. Forster gives a succinct example of this process: “‘The king died and then the queen died’ is a statement. ‘The king died and then the queen died of grief’ is a plot.” 1 In general, the short screenplay, like the short story, works best when its plot is uncomplicated, when we are given a glimpse of someone at a particular—very likely pivotal—moment in his or her life, a moment when an incident or a simple choice sets in motion a chain of events. 9 Ch01.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 9 10 Writing the Short Film WHAT STORIES CAN DO From early on in our history, stories have offered us alternative ways of experiencing the world. Huddled in the dark about a fire or in the heat of a marketplace, seated at a great lord’s table or in the darkness of a movie the- ater, we drink up stories about the marvelous or terrifying or comical expe- riences of other human beings. We participate in the adventures of heroes and heroines, whether they are called Achilles or Michael Corleone, Little Red Riding Hood or Dorothy of Kansas. The most important factor in mak- ing it possible for a narrative to entertain, as well as to instruct or inspire us, is our ability to project ourselves into characters, whether imaginary or “real.” It is to this ability that Paul Zweig refers when he writes, “To enter a story one must give up being oneself for a while.” 2 A universal longing to hear about the lives of others seems to be as strong in our own time as in the past. In industrialized countries, at least, it is no longer the oral or printed word that is the primary medium for storytelling, but the film or television screen. At home, we catch bits and pieces of other people’s lives as they are offered on newscasts and two-minute, “in-depth” portraits; we find ourselves held captive by the relentlessly predictable nar- ratives of situation comedies, police procedurals, or search-and-rescue docu- dramas. Although, as an educated audience, we complain about the dull and repetitive scriptwriting and the lack of variety in programming, we continue to watch faithfully week after week, even year after year, in our hunger for stories. In The Poetics, his great manual on how to write a play, the philosopher Aristotle said, “Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight to contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity The cause of this again is that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not only to philosophers but to men in general.” 3 A biologist as well as a philosopher, and a close observer of human behav- ior on stage and off, Aristotle was interested not only in the Greek tragedies themselves but in the reactions of their audiences. He goes on to say that for an audience, the pleasure of recognition is to “grasp and understand.” Like those Athenian audiences 23 centuries ago, audiences today long to grasp and understand something of the human condition. FAIRY TALE, MYTH, AND GENRE IN FILM The early myths of any tribe usually tell about ways in which human beings are affected by the actions of a god or gods, while its fairy tales and legends are apt to describe ways in which human beings are affected by more earthy aspects of the supernatural—say witches, giants, trolls, talking Ch01.qxd 9/27/04 6:02 PM Page 10 . Consequently, the relevance of these books to the writing of the short film posits an analogy between the structure of the short film and that of the long,. that character. There is no time in the short film for the kind of pauses for elabo- ration of character so often deployed in the long film. The freedom of short film