Critique City

"So are mine," I said.

His mouth made a little "o".

My glasses are over a half-inch thick.

At lunch today we got on the topic of makeup. Carolann, Angie, and Erica wear it: a full, though transparent application of it -- base, blush, eye makeup.

I said I've never worn eye makeup because I always rub my eyes.

Carolann said, "I'd really like to see you with makeup on. And all dressed up. Something really different."

Angie said, "And speaking of looking like shit--" About a millionth of a second later she realized what she'd said. She spent the rest of lunch apologizing profusely.

I made one step closer to doing the liquid diet thing. I so enjoy being the dumpy one.

In thesis I heard pretty much what I was expecting to hear. Things are moving okay, but some stuff is unclear and I have to be more obvious about it.

"Write it for 8 year olds," said Len. "The studios will ask you to dumb it down for 6 year olds."

Len said great things about my pages. I was pretty happy. (Len has said less than positive things about other scripts, for example.) He also said, when we talked at the break, that one thing I do really well is charm -- and if I understood him correctly, he means me, not my writing. I think he likes my writing, but I tend to take it easy: going on for pages without conflict. (Kind of like my entries here. Hmmm.) I'll probably be some star's favorite writer, brought in to punch up her part on occasion.

Tracing wrote and asked about this process of writing and outlining I'm going through. I may find the process of writing slightly boring, but she doesn't -- she's involved in another creative endeavor and wants to know how I do mine.

Okay, here goes:

Movies and TV are two different animals. Their primary similarity is that they involve words and related formats.

Movies

Movies have 3 Acts: introduction of the problem, development, solution. Movie scripts tend to be 100 to 120 pages long. You'd think 120 pages of mostly blank pages would be easy, but it's not (if done well). You should only include what's necessary for the story. If it's peripheral, if it's character stuff, that's great -- but it goes out.

Here is how you develop a movie: start with the sentence, "[Main character] wants X." Aliens want to conquer the world. Jim Carrey wants a major score of Ritalin. Bruce Willis wants all of the money in Greater Los Angeles.

Then you come up with an antagonist: external antagonists are better than internal antagonists, although external antagonists that represent internal antagonists are best.

You have to decide whether the protagonist achieves his or her goal. Whether or not he or she does, you have to make it as hard as possible for the protagonist (the complications of Act II).

There's also the USC model of screenwriting, based on the 3 Acts, but in order for me to tell you the Big Secret, you'll have to write me a check for at least $10,000.00.

The best resource on the Web for moviewriting, by the way, is Wordplay by Terry Rossio.

TV

Hour-long dramatic series (also called "episodic," even though sitcoms are episodic as well) have 4 Acts. Some weblet and syndication shows have 5 Acts, but the classic form has 4. And as Linda says, those 4 Acts are like a crossword puzzle.

First, work out your A story (the most important story), and then the B and the C stories, all of which must center of the recurring characters of the show -- no interesting guest stars, the characters who return week in and week out. Then, fill in the damn blanks:

Act 1: The problem of the A story. B and C stories may be introduced.

Act 2: Complication. At the end of Act II, there must be some external jeopardy, such as someone dying. This is to keep people from turning to another show at the half-hour.

Act 3: It gets worse, probably with more development of B and C. At the end of Act III, there must be some jeopardy to one of the recurring characters.

Act 4: Falling action. The main characters complete their arcs.

The current classic template for dramatic series, NYPD Blue, has exactly 7 scenes per act.

Dramatic shows may also have a teaser, or 5 to 7 minutes before the main credits roll. The teaser may set up the story questions of the episode, or it may be a get-acquainted-with-old-friends bit, or it may have nothing to do with the show other than orient you in the world it takes place in (such as Miami Vice was want to do).

ER is well-known for breaking a few of these rules, such as having 10 to 11 scenes per act and having anywhere from 4 to 7 or 8 storylines per episode. That is: it has A, B, C, D, E, and F stories, and beyond.

Okay, so let's outline a sample ER story here and I'll try to show you some of the problems I've been having. The story I'm going to use here is of course not the one I am using in class; in fact, I think it's a story no one would probably want to use at all.

Let's say I am interested in this arc ER appears to be taking Dr. Mark Greene (Anthony Edwards) on this season -- that is, making him a total asshole. I decide to go beyond this and show that what Greene really needs is love, and he discovers that he is, in fact, in love with Dr. Doug Ross (George Clooney).

I exaggerate for the purposes of demonstration, of course.

Okay, so...where we start with TV is: what is the jeopardy of the end of Act III? We figure this out, and then outline backwards.

What are some possible jeopardies we could have for the end of Act III?

1. Mark declares his love and is rebuffed. In fact, Doug wants to be nowhere near Mark ever again, and he demands that Mark leave the show so it can be renamed Doug Ross's ER and Bachelor Pad.

2. Mark declares his love and to his surprise, Doug returns the affection. They are caught making out in Curtain Two and the entire hospital knows about their passion.

Clearly, knowing my own perverse and sick tastes, I'm going for Door Number Two.

Note: when writing spec scripts, you cannot change the direction of the show, as this storyline clearly would. You can't turn Dr. Benton into a serial killer, you can't have Dr. Carter marry the first babe he operates on that day, and you can't kill off Dr. Weaver (no matter how much you'd like to). You can do this when you work on the staff of the show, because then you know where the hell the show is heading.

Okay, so I know how I want Act III to end: Greene and Ross are humiliated by being discovered, but for the first time in episodes Greene is a nice guy and finally has found someone to hold. I need to start Greene as far from this at the beginning of the episode: he has to be grumpy, misanthropic, and perhaps aggressively (and unsuccessfully) heterosexual.

In the teaser, I might put in a scene in which Greene asks Cynthia (the new, hapless receptionist) out on a date. Cynthia calls him a dweeb and then asks what Tom Cruise is really like.

In Act I, I'm going to have Greene be an asshole to every one -- basically act the way he has the rest of this season. (Could someone prescribe this man a Valium? It's a hospital, for Chrissake.) How should Act I end? Perhaps Greene sees Ross and Hathaway in some hot clinch and becomes acutely aware that he hasn't gotten laid since Sherri Stringfield left the show. Greene sends Hathaway off to a marathon surgery that Benton has started and tells Ross they're short of hands in the ER and Ross needs to take the hangnail case in Curtain Three. Ross calls Greene bitter as he wipes off Hathaway's lipstick.

In Act II, a patient accidentally brushes Greene's arm and Greene jumps about a foot in the air. The nurses offer "hug therapy." Greene tries it, but something is wrong. He becomes disoriented and can't function correctly when operating on a patient. He completely loses it and Weaver immediately shoves him out of the way and takes the case. The patient lives, but barely.

In Act III, Ross goes to talk to Greene, aware (as in everyone in Cook County General, if not the greater Chicagoland area) that Greene is beginning to flake out. Greene loses it and starts throwing around patient charts. Ross offers Greene a hug. Greene immediately calms down. This is terrible! Greene flees. Then he returns. They end up in Curtain Two. The patient in Curtain Three complains about the noises. Ross and Greene are discovered.

In Act IV, Ross explains to Hathaway that he still loves her but Greene is really cute. All of the nurses get openly jealous of Greene. Greene smiles for the first time in months and stops wearing that stupid arm cast we all wish he'd get rid of anyhow.

Now, in a real story, the cliffhanger of each Act would not be the same story, but there's no way I'm developing B and C stories right here.

And, actually, this outline went a lot easier than the ones I've been working on, mostly because I went so nuts on the idea. (Hm, what does that tell me?) I keep doing much lighter stuff, like "Weaver cracks a smile," or "Benton lightens up for two and a half seconds."

Figuring out what the story problems are and what the cliffhangers are and then breaking everything down per act is the real work. As always, the actual writing of the scene is the easiest part. You have to be tight in TV.

How can you tell it's sweeps week? On tonight's 11pm news: "Models at Risk: the hidden risks of modeling."