Subplots or "B" Storylines

There are of course charts, graphs and stacks of books on every aspect of screenwriting. And at times it can all feel quite academic and intimidating. I know I used to feel that way about subplots. Subplot - what do you mean? I just figured out the main plot! Aaargghhh!

But think of it this way - your character has more going on in his or her life than the adventure at hand, right? Your character has or had a job, a spouse or significant other, parents, siblings - a life. So the B Story - or subplot - is going to be related to something else going on for your main character, if not something going on with another significant character in your script. It's another, lesser complication and it also adds to the lesson or journey for your main character.

Writing subplots is part of writing three-dimensional characters - the adventure happening to them does not exist in a void, right? Stuff was going on for your character before the story began and stuff will go on after the story ends. Characters cannot exist in a bell jar. Subplots not only create a more compelling, fleshed-out story, they are part of a more compelling, fleshed-out character.

Your script might have several strands or subplots that all thematically connect and relate to the main plot. A subplot doesn't necessarily have to take up much screen time but it will definitely have a beginning, middle and end.

A great way to study and really GET subplot is in sitcoms. Just because they are quite overt. Rachel and Ross decide whether to live together - subplot - Joey auditions for a part as a dinosaur. And you'll notice the connect-a-dots with the subplot interrupting the main plot only enough to play itself out pretty efficiently.

Subplots do a lot of things for your script: They flesh out the world and the characters and they also serve as a way of creating more tension in the main plot because we want to get back to THE GOOD PART and see what's going to happen! I could say a bunch of academic stuff here about how the subplot needs to be in service to the theme - but, is that academic? Or just plain obvious? Right? The subplot is some kind of version - even an opposite version - of the theme in the main plot.

Let me think of some subplot examples off the top of my head - mind you, I am only plucking out ONE subplot from these examples, of course there are more:

LEGALLY BLONDE: Elle tries to help her manicurist friend with her love life.

BEETLE JUICE: Lydia's horrible mother, Delia, is an "artist" who seeks to turn the house into an avante garde haven for her pretentious friends.

MILK: Harvey's relationship with his boyfriend is strained by his ambitions.

3:10 to YUMA: Dan Evans tries to earn his son's respect.

HOT FUZZ: Nick Angel's friendship with Danny Butterman.

SCARFACE: Tony Montana's relationships with his wife and his sister.

STAR WARS: The love triangle between Luke, Princess Leia and Han Solo.

POLTERGEIST: Craig T. Nelson's relationship with his work - the evil company that paved the burial ground in the first place.

So take a look at your script - do you have subplots going on? And are those subplots in service to the main character and the main plot? Does each of your subplots have a setup, a complication and a resolution? Does the subplot (or subplots) fit organically into the larger plot? Does the subplot speak to the theme?

Remember, subplots don't need to be complicated, necessarily. Subplots are complements to the main plot. They add nuance, complication and emotional complexity. You don't need to overthink your subplot - I'll bet you already have at least one. Just make sure you set it up, complicate it and pay it off.

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How to Make a Good Script Great

So do Wavers think the Wave-inatrix ever takes a day off? Or a vacation? No! I work tirelessly, seven days a week! [Insert bleak moment of realization here]. And while it's the 4th of July all over the world, only one continent gives a damn, and not even the whole continent, either. The rest of us carry on living and creating and...okay I wish I were camping or something. At minimum. But. I do have a great article for Wavers today, by Michele Wallerstein: How to make a Good Script Great. Read and enjoy. And light a sparkler for me.

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Getting a screenplay down on paper is difficult, there’s no doubt about that. Yes, you search endlessly for that “different” story, for that unusual and fantastic arena that you are sure no one else has done or will do.

Writers often try to find and create unique situations that are so far out that they bear little or no resemblance to real life or real people. Trying to be unusual can be a trap for new writers as well as established pros.

A “great” screeenplay and film has legs. That means that people will want to see the movie over and over again. They might want to bring their friends, or rent the film on DVD, or purchase a copy to own.

The secret for writing a great screenplay is not in finding the rare situation, it is in writing with the following high standards:

1. Character Arc: No one wants to stay with a film or screenplay if the main character does not grow internally, does not learn something important about him or herself and does not become a better, smarter or move loveable person. Whether the film is BOOTY CALL or anything by Jane Austin, you will notice the growth of the star character, and love them for it.

2. Underlying Theme: A great movie is not about the plot. It is about what is going on underneath. It is about something emotionally important or with a universal problem of great significance. Jim Carrey’s MASK is about the insecurities of all people. It is about the main character’s feelings of inadequacy’s and personal fears. You must find a way to touch something that can affect the collective and often unconscious needs of people in general. Even the animated classic, BAMBI, is about all of our fears of abandonment.

3. Dialogue: I believe that it was the great actress, Helen Hays who once said “If it ain’t on the page, it ain’t on the stage.” Nothing in a screenplay is as bad as boring dialogue. You must learn to write characters that speak with a unique voice. They must jump off of the page with personality, wit and exceptionally clever ways of saying things. Each character in the piece needs to have a distinct personal quality and voice.

4. Pacing: If your pacing is slow, or worse, if it is repetitive, you will lose your reader in just a few pages. Keep the story moving forward like a shark in the water, never stopping, never holding back or over-analyzing itself.

5. Likeability of Main Characters: If the reader cares about the people in the story, they will want to go forward with the script. Likeability is more difficult to explain than it appears on its face. Sean Penn’s character in the 1995 film, DEAD MAN WALKING, is an obnoxious murderer. By the end of the movie, the audience understands him and has some sympathy for the child that he was and the unhappy adult he became.

Certainly there are more facets to a good screenplay then the above and those you will learn in film schools and books on the subject. The professional looking format, the short exposition, etc. mean quite a bit. However if you want to raise the standard of excellence in your writing, I suggest you concentrate heavily on seeing if the above 5 points are well http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifcovered in your next project. These 5 points will separate you from the crowd, they will turn a comedy, thriller, drama, family film or love story into a GREAT SCREENPLAY.

By Michele Wallerstein

"You can purchase Michele Wallerstein's CD titled "HOW TO BE AN AGENT'S DREAM CLIENT" by emailing her HERE.

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The Second Act

Rouge Wavers, welcome back from a blessed three-day weekend after which the Wave-inatrix trusts that you feel uplifted, rested, renewed, restored and sick of chocolate bunnies and matzo. Today we jump in by considering the second act.

The second act can often feel like a vast, empty field with your various elements bivouacked, huddling for warmth around tiny fires. Your first act went well, you know what you want to happen in the third act, but oy, that second act – so much empty space, so many pages to fill. Have another chocolate bunny.

There are a few things to remember about the second act which will help narrow it down to something more manageable and one of them is that the bulk of the entertainment that you set up in the first act, will appear in the second act. The second act is most of the movie, in other words. The second act of BIG has lots of scenes that show a kid experiencing life inside a grown man’s body. That’s the upshot of the promised entertainment in BIG. So whatever your promised entertainment is – you’re going to pay that off in the second act. With lots of scenes that show: an unlikely couple falling in love, or nurses battling vampire doctors, or passengers dealing with snakes on a plane. SNAKES is a lesson in high concept for all of us, incidentally.

While the Wave-inatrix freely admits that calculating a tip is a task that requires ten minutes and a calculator, for the sake of argument, take the golden 100 page script. Your midpoint is on or about page fifty, yes? This means that, in rough terms, you have 30 pages in your first act, 50 pages in your second act and 20 pages in the third act.

The second act can actually be divided into two parts: the first half of the second act which is punctuated by the midpoint and the second half of the second act which is punctuated by the second plot point which leads us into the third act. Most screenwriting texts will tell you that the midpoint of a script should be a very big reversal or complication; the point of no return, the point at which your character will have to completely change tactics in order to reach their exterior goal.

The advantage of viewing the second act in two parts is that you no longer view it as a huge, sprawling part of your script during which god-knows-what-will-happen but rather as mini-acts unto themselves. We know that in a screenplay each scene builds upon the last and introduces or foreshadows the next. There is a causal relationship between scenes. Well, the second act is no different in context. Things. Must. Ramp. Up. In fact, here’s a quick rule of thumb, from page one on – tension is always building. Whether that is comedic, dramatic or anything else. It is headed up up and up just like a beautiful balloon. Which will burst right around the second plot point.

The second act is the real meat and potatoes of your movie in the sense that it is here that we will see the essential action, drama, romance or battles that you the writer promised us in the first act. The second act is where you get your writer on. The second act is where you show us your chops. How great will those battle scenes be? How snappy or funny will the dialogue be as the story escalates into wilder and wilder setpieces? How emotionally invested will we be by the second act?

Fear not, Rouge Wavers, the second act need not be a dark, barren expanse littered with the dead bodies of what would have been your script. The way is lit for you: the second act is bracketed by plot point one which concludes the first act, the midpoint and the second plot point which propels us into the third act. Those guideposts, along with understanding that the second act is divided into two parts, will help make the second act a more digestible, less intimidating part of your script. Set forth with courage and confidence into the charted territory we call the second act.

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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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