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Best Testimonial Ever!
Published by September 18, 2015 7:21 pm

Scott's scenes

I had the opportunity to work with interesting screenwriters this past busy summer. One of them wrote me such a gracious testimonial that I had to devote a whole post to it. Scott Nankivel’s screenplay is completed and moving swiftly into production in China. His scene breakdown, aka The Board, is itself a testimony to how laborious building a story truly is. I am overjoyed that I got to assist Scott’s process and very proud of the results. Here’s what he had to say about my contribution:

“Selin didn’t just give me notes, she transformed my half-baked treatment into a full-fledged story. She didn’t just point out the problems, she gave me completely developed solutions. I feel guilty not giving her writing credit.

I received my MFA from Columbia University and thought I knew a thing or two about crafting a story until she completely shined a light on every single hole and empty idea in my script. Just reading her 14 page breakdown was like a 2 year education in screewriting. This script is a multi-million dollar, CG driven movie for the Chinese market and she is the reason it will make a return on investment. I can’t say enough about her talents for doctoring a script. The next time I have a glimmer of an idea for a film I will turn to her for ideas and take all the credit!”
— Scott Nankivel – Screenwriter, director


Beat Sheet: Deconstruction of Damien Chazelle’s Screenplay, Whiplash
Published by March 22, 2015 11:26 pm

whiplash

I received great response to my deconstruction of ‘Birdman’s screenplay based on Blake Snyder’s beat sheet model. Here, I will tackle one of my favorite screenplays of last year: ‘Whiplash’ written by Damien Chazelle. Caution: Please read on only if you already watched the movie.

Opening Image
Andrew (Miles Teller), our teenage hero, is practicing alone at night at the top music school of America. Enters the antagonist, Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), who is the ultimate decision-maker of who gets to be a great jazz musician – a goal which is clearly and painfully central to our hero’s life. From the first scene, we know who our hero is, what his goal is, what he must do to get it (climb mount Fletcher) and, judging by Fletcher’s damning exit at the end of the scene -a perfect ‘Kill the Cat’ moment- we know that a very tough ride awaits him. Such a simple, economical, powerful opening…

Theme Stated
Following Andrew’s first of many discouraging encounters with Fletcher, he goes to the cinema with his dad, Jim (Paul Reiser). Jim represents the opposite of where Andrew wants to see himself when he is at his dad’s age. When Jim hears about Andrew’s disheartening experience with Fletcher, he talks about how his dream of becoming a writer diminished over the years. “There are other options,” he says. To Andrew, naturally, there is no other option but to become the greatest jazz drummer in history. Andrew’s response to Jim’s “At my age you get perspective,” is the thematic premise of the movie: “I don’t want perspective.” The argument is posed: Will Andrew learn to get a perspective like his dad, or will he prove that he really doesn’t need a ‘perspective’. This argument suggests that we are about to explore the possibilities of a young man achieving what his father failed to achieve, (namely, greatness!) – a theme that is universal and timeless.

Set up
First 10 minutes establish the hero, the antagonist, the dad (who carries a Vogler-esque antagonistic energy considering Andrew’s internal struggle), the love interest (Melissa Benoist), the setting (the conservatory, the dormitory), Andrew’s position among his peers at the rehearsals, the depth and rigidity of his self-practice and how far he is from measuring up to the greats.

Catalyst
Fletcher turns up at one of Andrew’s band rehearsals and unexpectedly selects Andrew to join his band. This is no doubt a life-changing event, but it is not disguised as bad news. It is bad news, disguised as great news that is incredibly hard to transform into truly great news. Andrew’s willing entrance into the chambers of Evil is all the more powerful for it.

Debate 
“What do you want to do with your life?” bluntly asks Andrew on a first date. He is driven and believes every choice is made for a reason. Andrew’s determination to achieve his goal is clear and the threats against his achievement are quick to follow. Before Andrew’s first rehearsal with Fletcher’s band, Fletcher takes on the role of a father to Andrew – a total opposite of his real dad. “You’re here for a reason,” he asserts. This fatherly demeanor almost immediately dissolves into I-will-break-a-chair-on-your-head attitude. The debate over deciding between transferring to another school to become a regular person like his dad and staying on and risking his life in the hands of monster-Fletcher for the chance of being the next Charlie Parker is at its most intense. Does he kill himself practicing or does he follow his dad’s ‘take it easy’ advice?

Break into Two
First rehearsal with Fletcher’s band is Andrew’s introduction into the world of Act II and it’s not pretty! After the disaster of the first rehearsal Andrew emerges as a man who is now fully aware of what he’s getting himself into. His commitment to being one of the greats is now stronger than ever. He is ready to risk his life for his goal.

B Story
Andrew’s flirtation with Nicole is lacking in screen time and only partly carries the theme of the movie. It is merely one of the obstacles that Andrew removes from his life to clear his path. Andrew’s relationship with his dad has more of a B Story value, as it is a point of contact that intensifies the question raised in the theme. However, the real relationship that qualifies as B Story, I believe, is Andrew’s ‘love story’ with Fletcher. From the first rehearsal theirs is a love and hate relationship. Andrew ‘knows’ Fletcher will be his key to success and will endure anything to learn from him. Fletcher also ‘knows’ that Andrew is his key to discovering the next Charlie Parker and will stop at nothing to squeeze it out of him. These are two souls who desperately need each other for their respective goals.

Fun and Games
Andrew practices really hard! The tension builds as the band rehearses for a competition. Andrew has to do all he can to make it as a core member of the band. We watch him put all he’s got into his goal and feel that his triumph is inevitable.

Midpoint
Andrew misplaces the core drummer’s charts and unintentionally wins the position of the core drummer at the competition. A mysterious lucky break for Andrew but he nails his core position in the band thanks to his hard work. Nevertheless it is a false victory as the tables are quick to turn.

Bad Guys Close in
My favorite part of the screenplay, where every single scene relentlessly tightens its grip on Andrew. A succession of deliciously tense scenes send Andrew spiraling down into an abyss of loss of control and physical, emotional and psychological torment.

The scene of Andrew’s visit with his dad’s family shows that none of his efforts are appreciated by the people who are closest to him. His great achievement of making it in the core band means nothing to his family – he is still a disappointment. But Andrew knows he is better than all of them and his intention to prove them wrong adds to his commitment to his goal.

Andrew’s first step into taking control of his life and bettering his chances of success is to shed Nicole, whom he considers in the ‘loser’ category. Nicole is not even allowed to be a bad guy in his life. Andrew fights back by alienating himself further and moving more and more into the dark side.

Just as he thinks he finally has a firm place in the band, he is pretty much immediately replaced by musically inferior Connolly. Andrew gets increasingly enraged and obsessive. “Get that part back” rings in his ears.

Fletcher’s grief over his old student’s death further darkens the mood and intensifies the value of achieving greatness in Fletcher’s guidance. Who wouldn’t die to be considered ‘a beautiful player’ by him!

Andrew finally earns back the part by outplaying his competition after a 5-hour drumming marathon, but he is physically, emotionally and psychologically traumatized. Is it worth it, we ask. But Andrew is swept away by a deadly tide.

All is Lost
The scene where Andrew frantically tries to get to the concert that will give him the one and only chance of making it in the Lincoln Centre. He is still threatened to lose all that he literally shed blood, sweat and tears for. After he puts his life at risk to play at that critical concert, Fletcher’s words echo in his head: “You’re done.” Injured, in tremendous pain, enraged, turned into a monster worse than Fletcher-the-Devil himself, he has nothing more to lose. When the last words are spoken, his dreams are shattered beyond any hope of repair.

Dark Night of the Soul
Andrew is expelled, not just from school but from his life as he knew it. His drum kit as well as his entire history fit in a few boxes. He is even approached by a lawyer, who wants to use him against Fletcher as he has nothing more to gain from him. He is tired, sad and resigned. All he feels is betrayed by his dad, who dreadfully misses the point of Andrew’s life and passion. The distance between them is unbridgeable. There isn’t a soul in the world who understands Andrew now.

Break into Three
Except for Fletcher himself! A and B Stories cross, as two men who have lost the core of what makes them who they are finally have a heart-to-heart. Fletcher’s philosophy in all its glory once again rings so true to Andrew: “Charlie Parker would never be discouraged.” In a way Andrew is the only student who ever really understood Fletcher. Ironically Fletcher, who buried Andrew in the deepest darkest hole is also the only one who can bring him back to light.

Finale
The final showdown between Jake La Motta and Sugar Ray Robinson! Andrew takes a tentative step onto stage again with Fletcher’s new band. A total make or break moment in Andrew’s career. Fletcher names the game and throws Andrew the hardest blow of his life right at the start of the match. Andrew is knocked out within a few minutes into the concert and is ready to throw the towel. At backstage Jim is there to catch him when he falls. Andrew’s despair suddenly transforms into a Eureka moment, fuelled by his final realization that he must grow up and break out of his father’s loving grip. He is either to take a huge risk and make a life for himself following his true passion, or go back to a dull, cushioned life with daddy. When the stage hand asks Andrew whether he knows Jim, Andrew answers, much to his dad’s dismay, “No,” and returns to the stage. And to face his true love – Fletcher.

Final Image
When Andrew is back on stage, his fears are reduced to ashes. Our hero takes his place behind his drum kit to win a war. Fletcher was the only one who could make the next Charlie Parker out of him and he is the only one who could ever become the next Charlie Parker. Fletcher and his only Charlie Parker are united in an impossible victory. Final moment: A crash of cymbals on the very last hit – greatness at last!


Beat Sheet: Screenplay Breakdown of Alejandro Inarritu’s Birdman
Published by December 6, 2014 6:54 am

Birdman

I’ve been wanting to apply the Snyder Beat Sheet to a movie for some time. ‘Birdman’ is a great one for the task, and a challenging one too. Let me know your thoughts at selin@magicofstory.com
Caution: Please continue to read if you’ve already seen the movie!

Opening Image
Hero in meditation. His voice-over says, ‘How did we end up here? … We don’t belong in this shithole.’ Perfect opening for a character who will soon begin questioning his self-worth, the meaning of his existence and above all the reality of all that is. As he is levitated during meditation, we are led to think Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton) may be talking about the notion that all that we see, feel and think are perceptions of a grand illusion (maya), and in fact ‘this’ is not our true nature – we do not belong ‘here’ in the world of maya.

Theme Stated
Riggan is haunted by the superhero character that he played many years ago: Birdman. Birdman, the alter ego, tells Riggan that he will fail at his comeback in the theatre. He should give it up already and embrace his superhero persona instead. Riggan, either in reality or in his personal reality, does have supernatural abilities. We are left to doubt until the very end whether he is an extraordinary person doubting his extraordinariness, or a perfectly ordinary person doubting his ordinariness. Is he a potential winner or a loser?

Set-up
Riggan at a rehearsal for his comeback play. We observe him publicly exercise his superpowers, about which we remain doubtful. We meet his alter-ego, producer, daughter, fellow actors, lover, ex-wife. We get the sense that things are going badly for this guy. When all he wants is to prove that he is something, he grows more and more fearful of firmly establishing himself as a nothing. He is desperate for acknowledgment and success, but also strangely aware that ‘this’ is not ‘it’.

Catalyst
The catalyst is an amalgam of Riggan’s external and internal conflicts. On the one hand there is the question of whether he will really take on this crazy challenge of making it in the theatre and whether the incredible risk he is taking will pay off. On the other, his internal conflict is with his own ego. Will he be able to overcome it, silence it, stop battling with it? He also has a hyper-conflict: Are his superpowers real? Is he and everybody and everything else real? All of this is set up from the first instant we see and hear Riggan. His catalyst lies within himself. But if I had to pick a scene that is cataclysmic for his journey, I would pick the scene where he supernaturally ‘kills’ his co-star and takes charge of his destiny by changing it for the better against all odds.

Debate
The hiring of Mike (Edward Norton) and the previews that follow. The one-on-one rehearsal with Mike reveals Riggan’s weakness and self-doubt. In the first preview Mike messes up the whole show by insulting Riggan and the audience in the middle of the run. Riggan has to decide whether he should keep Mike, who will clearly be instrumental to his success, despite the risk of damaging his ego along the way. Right after the preview, Riggan and Mike have a conversation where we get to know who they are and what they are in this for. The stakes are high for Riggan: this play is a make-or-break for his career and seemingly for his entire existence.

Break into Two
This is a tough one, because almost the entire film seems to be a debate about all the explicit and implicit questions raised at Fade in. A prominent Break, if not the Act I Break, is the scene where Riggan’s daughter, Sam (Emma Stone), pummels Riggan’s ego by telling him he is unimportant and he better get used to it. Riggan is clearly devastated. But after she leaves, despite his apparent ‘loser’ outlook, he uses his magic to give the ashtray a gentle spin, as if to say, ‘Yes, I know, but there is something else…’ Meaningfully, in the scene that follows, his stage character says, ‘I spend every fucking minute praying to be someone else. Someone I’m not. … I don’t exist. I’m not even here. I don’t exist. None of this matters,’ and then shoots himself. The Riggan-Sam scene tips Riggan over to the throes of an even grander battle with himself.

B Story
The only love story credit would be traditionally given to Mike and Sam’s developing romance. But I feel Riggan’s relationship with his daughter has the only B story quality. At the Act I Break scene I mentioned above, Riggan is sympathetic toward Sam for the first time, and their relationship flourishes throughout the rest of the film. Sam will also become the first to find out about Riggan’s ‘true’ identity. Theirs is the true romance of the film.

Fun and Games
All the previews up to the first time Riggan reads a review of the play.

Midpoint
Riggan receives a review where Mike comes across as the star of the play and he, ‘the aging action hero who grasps for his youth.’ Riggan experiences a false defeat. He is once again pushed to the edge to choose between his ego and his dignity (which also stems from ego – there is no way out of the ego trap!).

Bad Guys Close in
Ego wins! Mike stays on as a threat, but he is no more of a threat to Riggan than his play’s failure. Riggan continues to take more risks for his ultimate goal of making his great comeback. But the pressure builds. Mike becomes more and more of a problem on so many levels, including as a love interest to Sam. Birdman insults and dares Riggan more than ever and drives him to the edge of sanity.

All is Lost
Tabitha, the critic who will give the life-or-death verdict on Riggan’s play, makes her decision before she even sees it: ‘I’m going to kill your play.’

Dark Night of the Soul
After hearing his fate Riggan truly gives up the fight for the first time. The whole world is against him. There is no chance that he will survive this and he has not a drop of hope left. He wakes up on a bench and peels his face off a garbage bag, appearing more like a homeless drunk than a superhero. Birdman brings in the big guns to take advantage of Riggan’s weakest moment  and lure him back to his side. Riggan falls for it. But, does he fall into Birdman’s trap, or is he building up the courage to step into his power. He ends up on top of a building, seemingly about to commit suicide. When a neighbor helps Riggan step down from the edge and asks ‘Do you know where to go?’ Riggan responds, ‘Yes. I know where to go,’ and jumps off the rooftop without hesitation. Riggan soars high over Manhattan, just like Birdman.

Break into Three
Riggan is a superhero now, and he knows exactly what to do. He has the solution but we don’t yet know what it is. He plans his ‘real’ suicide at the end of his opening show. Why? Because he knows he will fail, so he might as well make the most majestic exit he can? Or, now that he discovered his superpowers, he simply knows nothing can beat him, whatever happens will only serve him? We don’t know why exactly, but we know something is up when he prepares to pull the trigger.

Finale
Third act is set in the hospital room where Riggan lies with a bandage on his face that is practically the same as the Birdman mask. He not only survived, but also gained enormous sympathy from audiences and family alike, picked up great reviews and got himself a brand new nose!

Final Image
Riggan takes flight! From the opening image of a levitating man in meditation to a closing image of a man in flight from the POV of his daughter… What did Riggan figure out: that he doesn’t belong in this shithole. And he proved it.


Stories for Life
Published by November 5, 2014 7:15 am

storytelling

Richard Hamilton wrote about the effects of live storytelling in his article, ‘Tell me a story’ for Aeon.co. I quote here a few lines from his findings about our connection to stories and storytelling: ‘A need to tell and hear stories is essential to the species Homo sapiens,’ wrote the American novelist Reynolds Price in the essay ‘A Single Meaning’ (1978). ‘[It is] second in necessity apparently after nourishment and before love and shelter. Millions survive without love or home, almost none in silence.’

We all know how much we love and need stories. And to hear that it is our second basic need after food, before love and shelter, is mindboggling. But, it is especially the last sentence of this little quote that urged me to write: the suggestion that there can be almost no human life where there is no more story to be heard. I agree with this statement, but I would like to take it a little further and discuss the nature of silence.

There is a section in the book, ‘Where the Heart Beats: John Cage, Zen Buddhism, and the Inner Life of Artists’, where John Cage conducts an interesting research on sound and the Zen idea of ‘nothingness’. Since Cage works with sound, he wants to experience ‘soundlessness’. He goes to Harvard University, where there is an anechoic chamber, a soundproof box that offers ‘the most perfect silence on earth’. As he sits in the womb-like chamber, something unexpected happens: he hears ‘a dull roar and a high whine!’ Where there is no sound from no-thing, Cage hears earfuls of sound. When he speaks to the engineer about what he heard, the engineer says: ‘The high whine is the firing of his neurons. The dull roar is the blood flowing through Cage’s veins.’

Even where there is total silence, by our sheer existence we create sound. And that sound, if stripped from every other sound, is the story of our body: the sound of our biology sustaining itself, narrating its story.

‘Millions survive without love or home, almost none in silence.’ If silence is an absence of story, Cage’s experiment is proof that even in silence, as long as a human being exists, there will never be silence, and therefore never an absence of stories. Thus, millions can survive in silence too, as they will always have the story of their existence to listen to.

Stories are the lifeblood of our mental and emotional life. Richard Hamilton’s article differentiates live storytelling from other means of perceiving stories. As a lover of movies, the article raised my curiosity about perceiving stories through watching/listening to the teller of the story, as opposed to passive absorption in somebody else’s product of imagination projected onto a screen. Could live storytelling be a more direct and simple way of making sense of life through stories?

My yogi husband doesn’t enjoy movies like I do. But he can sit or move in meditation for hours in the dark of the night, when he is exposed to as little sound or image as possible. Whether we are in our chamber of silence, or exposed to a multitude of tales made up of infinite sounds and images, we are secretly striving to hear the narrative of our lives. May we find it, whichever way we choose.

— Read Hamilton’s article here. View image source here.


‘The Freud Scenario’ – Act I Break
Published by October 20, 2014 9:02 pm

SigmundFreud

I recently discovered a very good example for an Act I Break that is worth sharing and discussing in a little detail. In the 50s, US director John Huston asked French writer-philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre to write a screenplay about the founding father of psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud. Sartre’s first draft didn’t fully make it to the big screen, but the screenplay is published for us to enjoy as a piece of literature. ‘The Freud Scenario’ not only tells us an account of the birth of psychoanalysis, but also gives us a very relatable portrait of a human being mastering his own demons before bringing forth his contribution to the science of the psyche.

Sartre’s 380-something-page screenplay is by no means traditional in terms of its generosity with time and space for the characters and events to take shape. But, it certainly hits the right structural notes, which are delivered with meticulous care.

Following an unusually spread-out sequence where ‘The Call to Adventure’ (coined by Joseph Campbell) is established and an agonizing debate over taking on or refusing the challenge has ensued, Freud is faced with the antagonist of the story: Meynert. Meynert, the man who initially condemned Freud for following his inner voice, now prompts him to go ahead with his original plan: treating hysterical patients using hypnosis. Finally at page 138, off Freud goes on his quest to develop the ‘talking cure’.

The scene with Meynert is meaningful to me for several reasons. For one, I like the idea of a hero who gets a good kick in the butt from none other than the antagonist before going on his journey. The fact that the hero is dependent on antagonistic authority/father figures to make his decisions is important for establishing the hero’s pathology, the root from which his desires and ambitions stem in the first place and the reason for his eventual success. Who could be a better person to show one’s weakness -and his hidden strength- if not the bad guy! It is Meynert who obstructs Freud’s path, but it is also him who gives Freud the blessing to get back on it.

The scene also clarifies the goal of the hero: to know oneself. Meynert himself has failed in his lifetime to fight his own demons and is now dying in devastating ignorance. Thus this scene also shows us very clearly what would happen to the hero if he fails in his quest. The stakes are high: a life lived or a life lost.

Another interesting way in which the writer uses this scene is that the Shadow archetype turns into a Mentor archetype and sets up the new ‘bad guy’, which in this case is neurosis – the disease of the mind and the spirit. Meynert, as the Mentor, gives us the rules of the game: Freud has to delve into the muddy corners of his psyche and make a pact with the Devil if he wants to unearth and demolish what keeps him in darkness. This organic shift in archetype energies brings fresh momentum to Act II.

The importance of achieving the hero’s goal, the hero’s and the enemy’s characteristics that will make it a tough ride, the intensity of experience along the path to success and what it would mean to lose this battle are all settled in one stroke. Now we are ready to experience the Journey; we are aware of the stakes; we know the enemy and we have expectations about how the hero must now act. That’s what I call a good Act I Break.

Excerpt from ‘The Freud Scenario’:

Freud pulls his chair up close to Meynert.

MEYNERT Are you still searching for male hysterical patients?

At this reminder of the 1887 lecture and their quarrel, Freud frowns and shakes his head almost imperceptibly as a sign of denial. Meynert understands the sign.

MEYNERT Pity. I could have presented you with a fine specimen.

Freud dumbfounded and mistrustful, guesses beforehand the reply to the question he puts.

FREUD Who?

Meynert has recovered his bitter, ironical smile. He says with simplicity and almost with pride:

MEYNERT Me.

Freud does not reply. He looks at Meynert: on his face astonishment is mingled with a sudden, deep understanding – and, less clearly, with a certain satisfaction.

Meynert continues, with a kind of somber pride:

MEYNERT I knew the symptoms before Charcot; I learned about them the hard way – I had them all.

Still more proudly:

MEYNERT All. No one knew anything.

Freud speaks harshly: his resentment has not abated.

FREUD When you threw me out of your laboratory, you already knew that?

MEYNERT I’d known it for twenty years.

FREUD You called me a buffoon and a charlatan.

MEYNERT You know the story of Noah: a son mustn’t see his father’s nakedness.

He looks at him without tenderness and without regret. In a factual tone of voice:

MEYNERT You were my spiritual son.

 

Freud, in the same tone of voice, with an additional touch of sadness:

FREUD Yes. And you cursed me. You ruined my life. I was a scientist, not a doctor. Medicine disgusts me: I don’t like torturing people on the pretext that they’re ill. (A pause.) For six years I’ve carried out no research. I torture neurotic people I can’t cure.

Meynert laughs feebly.

MEYNERT Electrotherapy, baths and massage?

FREUD Massage, baths, electrotherapy.

Meynert laughs a little louder.

MEYNERT One might just as well put a poultice on a wooden leg.

Harshly, with sparkling eyes:

MEYNERT It’s quite useless.

FREUD I know. And yet I prescribe nothing else.

Meynert, with a still more ironical smile:

MEYNERT At all events, it can’t do any harm.

FREUD Not even that. (A pause.) Who would you call the charlatan? The young man who sincerely believed in the virtues of hypnotism or the man of today, who prescribes a treatment he doesn’t believe in?

Meynert has closed his eyes and does not reply. Freud looks at him with growing anxiety. After a moment, he rises noiselessly to his feet and is about to go over to the patient. Meynert hears him and speaks without opening his eyes.

MEYNERT Sit down. I’m not asleep, I’m gathering my thoughts. I’m very weak. I have to talk to you. Don’t interrupt me.

He speaks at first with his eyes closed; in a moment, he will open them.

MEYNERT Sufferers from neurosis form a fraternity. They rarely know each other, yet they recognize each other. At first sight. Just one rule: silence. Normal people, that’s who our enemies are. I’ve kept the secret… All my life – even from myself; I’ve refused to know myself; I’ve refused to know myself.

He opens his eyes and looks intently at Freud.

MEYNERT You belong to the fraternity, Freud. Or very nearly… I hated you, because you wanted to betray… I was wrong. (A pause.) My life has been nothing but play-acting. I’ve wasted my time hiding the truth. I was keeping quiet. Result: I’m dying with pride, but in ignorance.

Bitter smile.

MEYNERT A disciple of knowledge must know, mustn’t he? I don’t know who I am. It’s not I who has lived my life: it’s an Other.

He once more closes his eyes. Freud seems overwhelmed. He leans forward and timidly lays his hand upon the sick man’s pale hand, which is lying on the arm of his chair. Meynert reopens his eyes. He looks exhausted. But for the first time since the beginning of the film, he looks at Freud almost with affection. In a quicker, weaker voice:

MEYNERT Break the silence. Betray us. Find the secret. Expose it to the light of day, even if it means revealing your own. It’s necessary to dig deep down. Into the mud.

At these last words, Freud withdraws his hand and recoils somewhat.

MEYNERT Didn’t you know that?

FREUD (slowly) Into the mud? Yes, I know.

MEYNERT Does that frighten you?

FREUD Yes. I… I’m not an angel.

MEYNERT So much the better. Angels don’t understand men.

Freud’s face has altered: he is still somber but his eyes are shining.

FREUD What if I weren’t capable…

MEYNERT If you’re not, no one will be.

A silence. He raises his voice slightly.

MEYNERT For six years you’ve been champing at the bit… Now charge: it’s in your character. Retreat before nothing. If your strength fails you, make a pact with the Devil.

More quietly, but with burning conviction:

MEYNERT It would be splendid to risk Hell so that everyone could live under the light of the Heaven.

He has half raised himself, his pillow slips down behind him. Freud rises and repositions the pillow. Meynert lets himself sink back.

MEYNERT For my part, I lost – through lack of courage. Your turn to play. Farewell.

He is breathing through his mouth. Very slight rattle. Weary, painful expression. His eyes are open and staring. He repeats very softly, as if to himself:

MEYNERT Lost.

Freud looks at him for a moment, impassively. Meynert no longer seems aware of his presence. Freud stretches out his hand timidly. Touches the dying man’s pale hand with his fingertips, turns on his heel and leaves noiselessly.


10 Fundamental Lessons from Great Filmmakers
Published by July 25, 2014 7:26 am

tarantino

Here is a list of 10 invaluable lessons from famous filmmakers. I compiled some of my favorite quotes from the article, 100 Famous Directors’ Rules of Filmmaking. Enjoy!

1. My personal favorite! A screenplay should already be a movie in the reader’s imagination. This is the work…
Quentin Tarantino: “When I’m writing, it’s about the page. It’s not about the movie. It’s not about cinema. It’s about the literature of me putting my pen to paper and writing a good page and making it work completely as a document unto itself. That’s my first artistic contribution. If I do my job right, by the end of the script, I should be having the thought, ‘You know, if I were to just publish this now and not make it . . . ,’ I’m done.”

2. Make it universal, make it life…
Oscar Micheaux: “We want to see our lives dramatized on the screen as we are living it, the same as other people, the world over.”
Sarah Polley: “It’s been really important to me to create moments where there’s a breath or moments where there’s a laugh or moments where there’s real life that’s allowed to seep in through the cracks of whatever melodrama is happening, because that’s what does happen in life.”

3. It’s all about the emotions…
Ang Lee: “…the ideas don’t translate in a movie. It has to have emotions. So that’s different from the book quite a bit. So it has to be an emotional journey. . . . To me, I think that to me, it’s a visualization of feelings.”

4. The passion, the passion!
Gregg Araki: “It has to be something you’re so passionate about you are willing to die to make it…”

5. Keep your focus on what it is you are writing about…
Francis Ford Coppola: “When you make a movie, always try to discover what the theme of the movie is in one or two words. Every time I made a film, I always knew what I thought the theme was, the core, in one word.”

6. No need to force a plot, just create real characters, put yourself in their shoes and live through them…
Andrea Arnold: “When your characters are really living they tell you what they do.”

7. What to avoid at all costs…
Frank Capra: “There are no rules in filmmaking. Only sins. And the cardinal sin is dullness.”

8. The only way for the hero (and the picture) to shine…
Alfred Hitchcock: “The more successful the villain, the more successful the picture.”

9. The all-important ‘be you’ advice…
Wes Anderson: “They say, ‘Well, I see a lot here that you did before, and it’s connected to this other movie you did,’ and . . . that almost seems like something I don’t quite choose. It chooses me.”
Abbas Kiarostami: “I never reflect or convey that which I have not experienced myself.”
Diablo Cody: “Don’t ever agonize about the hordes of other writers who are ostensibly your competition. No one is capable of doing what you do.”

10. Daily exercise of coming back to the centre…
Stanley Kubrick: “Is it meaningful? Is it believable? Is it interesting? Those are the questions that have to be answered several hundred times a day.”

See full article here.


The Brains of a Hero – A Checklist
Published by May 31, 2014 1:40 pm

Taschen book: mindsets

I recently read an article called ‘The Brains of Successful vs. Unsuccessful People Actually Look Very Different’ on PolicyMic.com. The successful types are said to have growth mindsets while the unsuccessful suffer from fixed mindsets. As I was contemplating how my own mindset is dangerously close to the fixed mindset, if not smack in the middle of its murky sphere, I also saw a brilliant outline of what a hero’s mindset must, must, MUST be like in order for her and her story to succeed. The diagram above provides an excellent checklist to make sure your hero and her story succeeds!

Here’s the idea: ‘For fixed mindsets, intelligence is static. This leads to a desire to look smart and therefore a tendency to avoid challenges, give up easily, see effort as fruitless or worse, ignore useful negative feedback and feel threatened by the success of others. As a result, they may plateau early and achieve less than their full potential. All this confirms a deterministic view of the world. For growth mindsets, intelligence can be developed. This leads to a desire to learn and therefore a tendency to embrace challenges, persist in the face of setbacks, see effort as the path to mastery, learn from criticism and find lessons and inspiration in the success of others. As a result they reach ever-higher levels of achievement. All this gives them a greater sense of free will.’

Think about all the great heroes you love. Which mindset do they share common characteristics with? Sometimes a growth-oriented hero may be failing at one or more of the traits of the growth mindset. But isn’t that usually the area of weakness where the hero’s inner conflict lies?

You might say, but how about stories about people with fixed mindsets? Don’t their stories deserve to be told? Yes, they do, but only when the hero begins to see she must change and willingly or unwillingly goes through the journey of a growth mindset. A story about a fixed mindset getting a kick in the butt from life to adopt a growth mindset in order to overcome whatever hurdle life threw at her is a very common storyline.

No matter how big or small, every hero should be (or become) a force to be reckoned with. So we can find lessons and inspiration in their stories and do the same.

Read the full article here.


Sweetness of Entanglement
Published by April 30, 2014 1:57 pm

Quantum-doesnt-mean-small-or-big

“… the story of time’s arrow begins with the quantum mechanical idea that, deep down, nature is inherently uncertain.”

I read a very interesting article on quantum physics at Wired.com today. I believe it can be applied to the nature of stories and help explain our minds’ tendency and need to create and enjoy them.

Nature is inherently uncertain! What a beautiful statement! It has a ring of truth, acceptance, surrender and freedom. This sounds like a point that urgently asks to be further explored and its connections to the minute details of our lives thoroughly studied.

When I think about this statement in relation to storytelling, I feel more comfortable with the fact that stories too are inherently uncertain, just as their creators and audiences are. For one thing, they reflect an uncertain image of life. Secondly, they generate even more uncertainty as soon as they meet an audience. As many uncertainties as there are audiences.

It also explains why human beings and the characters they create and love are constantly striving for certainty and equilibrium. In fact, isn’t striving for certainty at the heart of all human conflict?

And now we know why! The article suggests that the moment a particle interacts with another (which, as I understand, happens as soon as the particle originates) it can no longer be described by its own ‘pure state.’ Professor Seth Lloyd who realized the relationship between quantum uncertainty and human uncertainty found that “When particles become increasingly entangled with one another, the information that originally described them would shift to describe the system of entangled particles as a whole. It was as though the particles gradually lost their individual autonomy and became pawns of the collective state. Eventually, the correlations contained all the information, and the individual particles contained none. At that point, Lloyd discovered, particles arrived at a state of equilibrium, and their states stopped changing…”

Bear with me as I try to make sense of this with my very basic level of comprehension. Is this how the story goes: We leave our ‘pure state’ of certainty as soon as we begin our lives and immediately turn into uncertain beings. By way of getting inevitably entangled with everyone and everything else in the universe and therefore becoming even more uncertain, we eventually reach a point of saturation with our entangledness. At this point we have sufficiently emptied ourselves out and become one with the collective ‘system’ that we stop changing/striving and finally become equilibriated, balanced, satisfied and happy?

Let’s try to apply it to the mythological structure of stories. A is confused, but doesn’t know it. A meets B. A gets even more confused and now knows it. B gets more confused too. Together A and B become more and more confused together until they have to change so so so much that A and B individually and collectively achieve a state of steadiness in a different and –in the case of stories– better way.

Lloyd says, “The universe as a whole is in a pure state. But individual pieces of it, because they are entangled with the rest of the universe, are in mixtures.” By living the story of our lives and all the little stories we generate and consume within it, we also become mixtures and eventually, hopefully, go back to that ‘pure state’.

Along the way, it sure feels good to know that uncertainty and certainty are natural and common in all of humanity, nature and the universe. Perhaps this is the reason why we tell stories and why we love stories. To entertain our uncertainties, to try to make sense of the inherent qualities in all of us, to move toward certainty…

Not surprisingly I am not certain about any of this. Have a read of the full article and send me your thoughts. Here’s the link: http://www.wired.com/2014/04/quantum-theory-flow-time/


Screenwriters’ Central Dilemma, Universal Pursuit of Happiness and the Source of Salieri’s Tragedy
Published by March 20, 2014 10:23 am

salieri

‘To be a screenwriter is to deal with an ongoing tug of war between breathtaking megalomania and insecurity so deep it takes years of therapy just to be able to say “I’m a writer” out loud.’ – Blake Snyder

In Blake Snyder’s ‘Save the Cat’, you get a strong sense of what a writing life is or should be like. But the screenwriter’s dilemma he mentions above truly reveals what it feels like to be a writer, regardless of whether you are an established or a beginning one. In fact, it makes you wonder, without this very conflict would one be compelled to write in the first place.

Stephen Cope in ‘The Great Work of Your Life’ names the problem of doubt as the central affliction to realizing one’s dharma, aka true calling, sacred duty, vocation. Unless you live and work aligned with your dharma, there is only self-destruction. Only when you find, name, celebrate and nourish your path, your Gift, your dharma, Cope says, you will be truly happy and fulfilled in your life.

And guess what, ‘[Dharma] is only born out of our wrestling matches with doubt, with conflict, and with despair.’ As it turns out, all the torment involved in writing or simply having a desire to write is for a reason. And that reason is at the heart of humanity’s eternal pursuit of happiness. This makes it all a bit more bearable, doesn’t it?

As I wrestle with the particulars of my own dharma, I realized a few weeks ago why I consider Milos Forman’s ‘Amadeus’ one of my favourite movies of all time. Because, to me, ‘Amadeus’ is about dharma and how life can be a long soul destroying suffering if you are not living your dharma.

You may remember Salieri’s meaningful outcry, paralyzed by doubt: ‘All I wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing… and then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn’t want me to praise him with music, why implant the desire? Like a lust in my body! And then deny me the talent?’ The ingenious screenplay by Peter Shaffer gives us the answer: because music was never meant to be Salieri’s dharma. It’s only his confusion that’s causing him all this agony.

Salieri’s true passion and dharma is hidden in the story. Do you remember those few short moments in the movie where Salieri talks about desserts? The most touching and dramatic thing about ‘Amadeus’ is Salieri’s passion for dessert! He is not only a man with a sweet tooth, he knows dessert and in a sense lives for it! These are the only moments in the movie where Salieri lights up and shines with joy and delight. Salieri’s character, as written by Shaffer, is a poignant portrait of dharma, or I should say, dharma-gone-wrong.

There is so much doubt and despair in store especially for people following artistic vocations. But, if writing is in ‘the subtle interior blueprint of your soul,’ then, Cope quotes Krishna’s lesson to Arjuna from the ancient story on dharma – Bhagavad Gita: ‘It is better to fail at your own dharma than to succeed at the dharma of someone else.’

I wish for all of us courage and perseverance in ‘looking more and more deeply into our doubts’ as a way to get to the certitude we need to take a leap of faith into our personal and unique dharma.


Frances Ha’s Shining Moment
Published by February 6, 2014 2:04 pm

Frances Ha

Noah Baumbach’s ‘Frances Ha’ is a wonderful modern tale about an artist trying to make it in the real world. Even more brilliant than Greta Gerwig’s heart-warming perfomance are the revealing choices the writers (Baumbach and Gerwig) made to create the character Frances.

Ever since watching the movie, there is a question that keeps popping up in my head: Why does Frances not tell Sophie she’s in Paris? You must have seen the movie. Frances often speaks untruthfully to impress people or to feel temporarily better about herself. When she is in Paris and receives a much-desired call from Sophie, she has a golden opportunity to feel important, busy, adventuresome, enviable… especially in the eyes of Sophie, who is about to break their bond by moving away with her boyfriend. It’s the one time Frances really is doing something ‘cool’, but passes on the chance to use it to her advantage.

These are the moments in movies that make characters ‘real’ characters. I can’t be sure why the writers decided to have Frances leave out that information. But the more I elaborate on it in my mind, the more I think it’s the best decision in the movie.

For one thing, Frances is a good-hearted person, who naively assumes everyone feels the same way as her. If Frances was in Sophie’s situation in that scene, she would have been hurt to hear Sophie enjoying herself in Paris when they could be together. So she lovingly protects Sophie from feeling bad. Secondly, Frances knows the whole Paris idea was stupid and at that moment hates herself for being there in the first place. Her characteristic insecurity about her crazy impulsive behavior stops her. And lastly, by not sharing such a major information as being in Paris, she is consistent in the randomness of her approach to self-portrayal.

The moment Frances makes the decision to keep her whereabouts to herself isn’t marked in the film. It’s not even a decision, it’s just what organically happens in that one little dialogue over the phone. But it is one of those key moments that invites the audience to really feel the character’s perspective in life, visit her emotional world and be a guest in her psyche.

This hidden moment in the screenplay is, I believe, one of the reasons why a lot of people, regardless of their age, gender, life experiences and personalities are able to empathize with such a particular character as Frances. Simply because she is ‘real’, and therefore embodies all of humanity in all her ‘uniqueness’. It is certainly why I liked her, understood her and felt myself in her shoes.

I congratulate the writers on this detail, among many others that give Frances her charm. I would have loved to be in the room when they discussed how Frances-in-Paris would cope with Sophie’s invitation to come to her party in New York. It must have been a victorious discovery into the character’s soul and the writers must have smiled with satisfaction, thinking ‘of course she wouldn’t tell Sophie she’s in Paris, because…’