Know your Genre
Drum roll, please…This is the moment you’ve been waiting for…the number one thing that annoys this reader:
A writer who has no idea what he or she is doing. By that I mean, a writer who thinks they understand a genre (or even the craft in general) but is woefully, horribly mistaken. I worked with a writer recently who had written a “comedy”. That actually translated to over one hundred pages of what I can only assume were highlights of a drunken evening back in college. From what I read, I can only thank the Goddess I was not there. I asked the writer – what are you satirizing, exactly? And she said: What do you mean? What bothered me about that is the cavalier attitude that writing comedy is easy. As if Judd Apatow just sits down and writes this stuff and therefore so can you. As if that were true of Larry Gelbart, Nora Ephron, Woody Allen, Mel Brooks and too many others to name. It is a lack of respect for the craft that I must admit gets me very, very cranky.
Each genre has a history with high and low points, with expectations, transmutations and sub-genres. But let’s back up. Each genre has expectations. The thing is, you already know this. Because when we see movies, a primal part of us takes over. We await the romance to come to fruition just as much as we pleasantly dread the dissembling of the same romance – because it must be. We expect it. When we sit in the dark with our malted milk balls watching a horror movie, we cringe pleasurably as we wait for the…..JUMP OUT. But it can’t just be a jump out. It has to happen like this: Huh, what was that sound in the basement? Should I go look in the basement? I go down the stairs. I WHIRL AROUND. It’s just the cat. Phew, now I’m safe. I head back up the stairs. A HAND GRABS MY LEG.
In comedy, we expect to see set pieces highlighting the kind of comedy we’re watching. I could write a whole column about the kinds of comedy: satire, farce, slapstick, romantic verbal, black, political, parody and gross-out to name only a few. When you are writing a comedy, firstly it is critical that you know what kind of comedy and then from that decision, do your homework both in watching other movies in the genre and also studying up a little on comedy. Mel Brooks once said: Tragedy is when I get a hangnail. Comedy is when you fall down the staircase. Understand what “the topper” is in comedy. Understand the number of comic beats necessary to deliver the comedy most hilariously. Understand comedy from different eras. Watch the greats. And just as importantly – what makes you laugh? If you aren’t laughing when you write comedy, something is wrong.
Something newer writers don’t understand is that funny isn’t funny without the quiet moments in-between. And scary isn’t scary without the quiet bits either. A constant stream of action, horror or comedy disallows us from relating to the character these things are happening to.
In thriller the expectations will be centered around building dread, suspense, scares, thrills, chills and a helluva mind-bending, exciting showdown in the end. Here again, it depends on what kind of thriller you are writing: action-thriller, political-thriller, supernatural-thriller, horror-thriller and so forth.
Drama naturally has a million subsets because the word “drama’ in and of itself isn’t all that descriptive from the point of view of an executive. To name only a few subsets we might have sports-drama, historical-drama, political-drama or coming-of-age drama. If I’m going to the movies to see WE ARE MARSHALL, a sports-drama (and true story) you better believe I will expect to see moments of triumph, heartbreak, setbacks and victories. If I see a historical epic, I know I am going to see some really huge battle sequences. And in those sequences I will probably see that soldier who has a pregnant wife back home get killed. But he’ll die a martyr, he won’t be forgotten!
In each genre, set pieces highlighting and embodying the expectations of that genre should be plentiful and satisfying.
The first thing you need to do after you’ve come up with an idea is to ask yourself which genre you are in. It shouldn’t be difficult to figure it out. Once you’ve done that, go rent several movies in that genre and particularly movies that bear any resemblance to your idea whatsoever. Go see a movie in current release that is in your genre as well. Take notes and pay special attention. What beats are present, regardless of differences in story, in each movie? And very importantly, what pattern are the beats in?
I am not suggesting that writers attempt to cookie-cutter their writing to be completely derivative of pre-existing movies. Why was JUON so much better than THE GRUDGE? Because THE GRUDGE got put through the cookie-cutter and wound up limp and average. Derivative or imitative is not what I am suggesting here but rather an awareness of what makes certain genres work on that ancient, universal level. Lajos Egri’s book The Art of Dramatic Writing is a great resource for getting down to the fundamentals of drama. Harold Bloom’s Shakespeare: the Invention of the Human is not only a great reference book for the work of Shakespeare but a tremendous lesson for any and all writers who wish to understand what moves audiences. Donald Spoto’s book The Art of Alfred Hitchcock is a fascinating read. I’m sure others can name many more great references.
Whether you read scripts professionally, or for a friend you will notice the genre expectations – or lack of them – in your bones. You will find yourself losing interest because you haven’t had a nice, scary set piece in a few pages. Or because the romantic relationship has hit a plateau with no misunderstandings or fights. Or because no bad guy has entered, stage left, to challenge the sheriff of the town. As he should. As we expect.
Movies have been around as popular entertainment for less than a century. Yet collectively, Americans have consumed countless movies over our lifetimes. Part of the pleasure of seeing a movie is having a primal itch scratched. I feel like seeing a horror movie tonight. Not me, I want to see a romcom. No way, give me an action picture. I’m in the mood for a war movie. While audiences enjoy a good twist, a surprise ending or an unexpected development, they also look forward to, and in fact expect, certain notes to be hit.
The truth is that audiences are moved by very elemental emotions: being heartbroken, being chased, being lonely, laughter, joy, birth, death, mothers, fathers, growing up and too many others to name. And audiences pay for the privilege of being taken on a journey of both pleasurable familiarity and thrilling surprises.
Get to know your genre and the expectations of that genre so that while the story will be totally unique, the underlying, universally resonant moments are there for the reader. And ultimately, the viewer. And bear in mind, no matter which genre, this story is happening to and about a character. If we can’t relate to the character, the funny won’t be funny, the scary won’t be scary and the horror might even be funny.
Give the people what they want. Be it thriller, drama, comedy, western or romantic comedy. As Donald O’Connor sang so memorably: Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em laugh, make ‘em laugh!
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11 comments:
I understand what you are saying, but I'm just not sure to what degree I agree.
For some reason, I have a hard time believing that Groucho sat around pondering genre. That SJ Perelman studied all similar tales when he sat down to pen something funny. I think sometimes there are people who are funny enough—and who are comfortable in that knowledge—who can simply relax and focus on the actual work being created without a great deal of meta-thinking about how that work fits into some Grander Scheme of Things.
As for taste, I'm also not sure that it works to worry so much about what 'we" find funny. When i write, I try to express what *I* find humorous in some situation or moment, and if it so works out that others agree, then bully for me. But whenever i try to chase down someone 8else's* notion of funny, it never feels very funny or satisfying to me.
Not arguing—just sayin', is all. Humor is serious damned business, but I'm not sure that it's something one can "think" into being.
Or maybe I'm full of warm air.
[shrug]
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B
Good stuff all around...
Actually, the Marx Brothers were extremely careful about what worked and what didn't as comedy, and before they shot a movie they'd tour it as a stage show, from Iowa to NY (my mother--who worked on Broadway--used to see them whenever they were in town), in small towns and big cities. After every performance they'd sit down and analyze what got a laugh and what didn't. The latter were systematically discarded until, by the time they returned to the studio, the piece was scultped into a perfect comedy.
And I know that.
And my point wasn't that they didn't examine and hone their work in a serious thoughtful manner. I was talking about the act—the moment—of creation. I don't subscribe to the notion that you can merely think great art into being. At some level it is equally about feel, and instinct, and guts, and intuition, and all that stuff which runs and hides from conscious thought.
In simple terms, your post (to me) seems to say "make sure you think about it."
I agree, but I also think it's important to NOT think about it. At least, not too much.
Is a pie to the face any more or less funny for having a Harold Bloom-like encyclopediac understanding of the nature, history, and socio-political context of all facially aimed pastries?
I have my doubts.
Nice post. I just don't totally agree with every idea I sense being suggested.
Onwards.
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B
(And, as Groucho grumbled about/to Roscoe Chandler in ANIMAL CRACKERS, "it's not safe to ask this guy a question-- he takes things seriously")
;-)
My posts are always dual in nature: for a more accomplished or experienced writer, it is instinctual to combine an intellectual understanding of the craft with spontaneity in the act of creation.
Younger, less experienced writers tend to feel completely entitled to just go with whatever they want to write without any filter or investment in knowing at least something about the craft.
I quite agree that the act and process of creation should be spontaneous and passionate.
These comments may, at the end of the day, be a paen to the benefits of being a slightly older writer. Having said that, I love young writers and their no-holds barred way of approaching things. But part of the journey as a writer is a certain maturation which, as I say above, allows us to both understand writing from an academic point of view - and then completely set that aside as we write.
I prefer to chug a half gallon of Listerine and then let the genius just flow, baybee.
And then I fall over and wait for the FedEx man to wake me.
If this is how a "mature" writer works, well, then yeah-- I'm mature and stuff.
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B
LOL -
did you see Bowfinger? One of my favorite comedies. The slo-mo with the fed ex guy in the end was just hysterical!
Things could be worse.
Writers could be required to sing their scripts to readers.
Some of the hardest parts about being a reader is that sometimes a script simply does not read like the genre it is in.
I'm working on a project now, in which the scripts read like a comedy (to me), but they are supposed to be a drama. The premise is even one of those which could easily go either way.
Onscreen they nail the drama. The tone. Everything.
It's a strange business when opinion plays such a heavy role.
Now see, I would really enjoy being sung to by a writer. Grease paint, the whole nine yards. Sounds good to me, actually!
Yes this business so very subjective which makes the yoke on the readers back very heavy; looking for and adhering to dramatic and industry standards while both acknowledging and curbing your own personal tastes is very difficult at times.
This is a very satisfying discussion!
Brett, thanks for your honesty, and for going against the grain of what was being said (and doing it so lightly and respectfully, to allow for all sides to come out).
I agree with both Julie and Brett.
My style of writing is something like what Brett described. A big, huge, quivering creature claws its way up from the murky depths and needs to burst out of me -- and I need to have the know-how to let it.
That's how I wrote the first draft for my first screenplay: without knowing the first thing about the craft except the absolute basics of formatting (and that screenplays should be 120 pages or less).
That's not to say I haven't (since then) been reading ravenously and watching lots of movies, etc. etc. etc. to deepen my understanding, my skills and my dedication.
But without that pure passion for my story, I wonder whether I would have ever attempted the act of writing a screenplay. Because it takes HUGE levels of dedication. It's not something I can attempt on a cerebral level. It has to come from the gut first. Then structure, technique, and so on.
At the same time, I know how much Julie needs to say these things to certain writers. On a grassroots level, I've worked with a lot of writers. I've seen the range of attitudes -- everything from paralyzed with fear (even though this person is a good writer and deserves to believe in herself) to the newbie who thinks he/she is already brilliant and the world is waiting with held breath for the privilege of reading their stuff.
But they're not always young and wet behind the ears. I met one a few weeks ago who is retired and thinks she'll just whip out a script based on something she read twenty years ago (but hasn't checked yet whether it's available for option or in the public domain).
Meanwhile, she's planning to burn up valuable connections an acquaintance has offered her. First thing she plans to do is give a copy of the property in question to a successful composer and ask the composer (who works in TV) whether it would make a good movie.
Ouch.
And it degenerated from there. She told me the story blow by blow. She thinks writing the script will be a breeze. It didn't sound like *the actual writing* was a major part of the plan for success, to be honest.
I'm sure readers have to read many scripts created from this kind of bravado. So no wonder they tend to give what can sound like over-advice.
I found myself giving this writer almost the same kind of advice -- and I'm just a newbie writing her first screenplay. But, heck, it's all such a waste of everybody's time if these writers don't want to do the work.
If a new writer does not have a natural sense of story, then she really should start by studying. But I hope somewhere along the way she acquires that messy magic where the story needs to erupt from her brain and MUST be written down. I cannot imagine sustaining myself through all the rewrites (and what comes after) if my story does not feel like a child of my own flesh.
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