Mrs. Brown's maid, in 9 and 11.[15]Trained nurse, in 22.Policeman, in 15.Blind beggar, in 27.Colored porter, in 28.
Mrs. Brown's maid, in 9 and 11.[15]
Trained nurse, in 22.
Policeman, in 15.
Blind beggar, in 27.
Colored porter, in 28.
Here are five minor characters, and yet, if the director desired, he could use only two people to play all five parts. Mrs. Brown's maid in 9 and 11 could easily change to a trained nurse for 22. The actor playing the policeman in 15 could just as easily make up as a blind beggar for 27; and he would then be able to change again and go on as a colored porter in 28, the next scene.
A point that many who are not familiar with theinner workings of the studios do not realize is that although Scene 10, let us say, is "done" on one day, Scene 11 may not be taken until the following day, or even a week later. It frequently happens that one set is allowed to stand for several days, on account of "re-takes" that have been found necessary, or because a director has difficulty in obtaining a certain lighting effect. In such cases certain players are required to play the same part over and over again, even though between the "re-takes" they may "work" for other directors in the same studio.
6. Actual Work on the Cast
You will probably find that the best and easiest way to prepare your cast of characters is to keep a rough list of all the people who take part in the action, as you write the scenario. Because, of course, although the cast of characters is the second division of the script, it should have its final preparation after the scenario has been completed, for the same reason that the synopsis is also finally prepared when the scenario has been finished.
Keep a sheet of paper beside you as you write your scenario. First put down the names of all yourprincipalcharacters so as to have them before your eyes as you write. Then as you work out your scenario, scene after scene, set down every character introduced; for example, if you use a doctor, who merely pays one visit to a patient appearing in only one scene, set down the following on your memorandum sheet:
Doctor, in 2.
Doctor, in 2.
and so on. At the time you write Scene 2 you may think that thatisthe only one in which you will use the doctor; later on, perhaps as you are giving the action of Scene 16, you may find that you have occasion to introduce a doctor again. Unless Scene 16 is supposed to be located in another part of the country, the chances are that you might just as well bring in the same physician again, and you then simply make it
Doctor, in 2 and 16.
Doctor, in 2 and 16.
7. Naming the Characters
Of course it is unnecessary to give a name toeveryoneappearing in a picture. The cast of characters is made up of the names only of those whose work in the photoplay materially advances the action in some way or another. On the "legitimate" stage any character who has even a "line" to say may be said to have a "speaking part." Only these are supposed to be in the cast proper. Similarly, in the photoplay no one whose work in the picture is not in some way necessary to the working out of the plot need be given a name. In the same way that you would write "Doctor, in 2 and 16," or "Policeman, in 8," write
Guests at ball, in 13.Stock brokers and clerks, in 22.Clubmen, in 27.
Guests at ball, in 13.
Stock brokers and clerks, in 22.
Clubmen, in 27.
The following is quoted from Mr. Epes Winthrop Sargent's weekly department, "The Photoplaywright," inThe Moving Picture World. He says all that couldbe said upon a subject that is of the greatest importance, no matter on what division of the photoplay script you are at work—the necessity for simplifying everything so as to make it quickly and easily understood by editor and director alike:
"When you start to write a play decide what you are going to call your characters, and adhere to your decision. If you have a character named Robert Wilson, do not indiscriminately call him Bob, Robert, and Wilson. Decide on one of the three and use that one invariably. If your character travels under an alias, being known as Montgomery in society, and Jimmy the Rat in the underworld, do not call him Montgomery in the society scenes and The Rat when he gets among his proper associates. Call him Montgomery straight through, and the first time he changes from Jekyll to Hyde tell the audience, in a leader, that he is known as the Rat; but in the plot of action hold to Montgomery, because you started with that and do not want to confuse the director. The editor is going to read in a hurry the first time through, and he cannot continually consult the cast to identify your constant changes in cognomens.
"Be careful in selecting your names. Do not let them sound too much alike, or confusion will arise. Often a story will be sent back that might be regarded more carefully were the characters more individually named, and perhaps fewer of them named. Too many names are apt to be confounded with each other. Names too much alike or not possessed of individual sound are apt to be confusing. In either case yourstory is not readily understood on a first reading and never passes to a second perusal. Take pains with your literary baptisms."
It seems scarcely necessary to point out that it is both easier and better to call the young people by whatever Christian name you decide to give them and to refer to their elders by their last name. You can say Freeman or Mr. Freeman, when speaking of Jess's father, but do not say that Tom and Miss Freeman are discovered by her father making love. Simply say Tom and Jess. If Jess's father is a farmer or a miner, it may seem more natural to say Freeman, or Jess's father. If he is a banker or a stock broker, you may choose to speak of him as Mr. Freeman. The most important thing is to make the name, as clearly as possible, suggest the age, rank, and general characteristics of the person to whom it is given.
A good deal has been written concerning the advisability of using only short and simple names for most characters in the photoplay. Others have advised photoplay authors to try to discover unhackneyed names for their characters. There are, of course, hundreds of short and appropriate "first" names for people of different nationalities; the trouble, especially with amateur writers, is that such names as Tom, Jack, Jim, and Charley, and May, Mary, Grace, Ethel, and Kate, are used over and over again, and without any regard to the surname which follows them. Simple and common namesaredesirable, so long as they really fit the characters who bear them. John and Tom and Mary and Kate are names that will be usedover and over again, both in fiction and in photoplay. But unusual names are desirable too, provided they fit the characters. The work of an amateur writer can almost always be told by the names he gives his characters.
In the writing of photoplays, where the author has no description to rely on to explain who and what his characters are, there is especial need of names that will help to indicate the social status of his different characters. In real life, a bank president is as likely to be a Casey or a Smith as he is to be a Rutherford or a Pendleton, but the chances are that, when given to a great banker, either of the last two names would make a greater impression on "popular" spectators. Again, certain names instantly make us think of villainy, while others as plainly tell us that the owner of the name is an honest man. The authors of the "good old" melodramas used exaggerated names that today would probably be laughed at. "Jack Manly" and "Desmond Dangerfield" would hardly "get by" in modern drama or in present-day picture plays; but the idea of appropriateness that was responsible for such names being used is what is needed by photoplaywrights who desire to name their characters convincingly. Percy certainly does not suggest a prizefighter, any more than Miriam portrays a cook.
By all means keep a special notebook in which to jot down new and unusual names to fit characters of every nationality and of every station in life,but try to get names that are short and easily pronounced. Very few photoplaywrights adhere to only one line ofwriting. A clever and ambitious writer may "do" a story of city life this week, and one with the scenes laid in Mexico the next. You can get plenty of names for your "down East" story, but will you be able to find eight or ten really appropriate names for your photoplay of life in "Little Italy" or the Ghetto? The following methods of obtaining suitable names—especially surnames—for characters have been found very helpful:
1. If you live in a city, cover the different foreign quarters thoroughly and note in your book names of every nationality that strike your fancy.
2. If the public library in your town gets French, Italian, or other foreign papers (all great city libraries do, of course), go over them and get similar lists of foreign names. You can never tell when a typical Russian surname, or an Italian Christian name, may be wanted for one of your stories. This will prevent your calling a Spaniard "Pietro" or an Italian "Pedro."
3. Buy an old or a second-hand city directory. An out-of-date New York or Chicago directory contains names enough, of all nationalities, both Christian names and surnames, to last you a life-time and will cost you little. But directories are notabsolutelytrustworthy after all.
4. When reading novels and short-stories, copy any names that particularly strike you. Use only the first or the last name in every case, of course, and do the same when selecting names from the directory or fromsigns in the street. You would not name your hero Richard Mansfield, nor his uncle John Wanamaker, but you might wish to call the uncle Richard Wanamaker and make John Mansfield the hero.
5. Select from regular theatre programs names that please you, but transpose the first and last names as recommended above. If you choose a French Christian name from one of Henri Bernstein's plays, do not take the surname of another characterin the same castto go with it. Rather take it from another French play, or from a French story in a magazine.
You do not wish to find, when the time does come for your cast of characters to be thrown upon the screen, that the director has found it necessary to change half of your names. Make them so good and so appropriate that there will be absolutely no excuse for altering them.
One thing to be remembered, however, is that the picture spectators of today have been gradually educated up to expecting and approving many things which the spectators of a few years ago would have looked upon as too "highbrow." This is due in no small degree to the many screen adaptations of literary classics and fictional successes generally which have been made, as well as to the large number of stage plays that have been transferred to the screen, for, of course, the authors, publishers and dramatic producers have always stipulated that the casts be kept as they originally were made out—except that occasionally certain characters who in the stage-production of a certain play were merely spoken about and describedhave been, in the photoplay form, actually introduced, and thus added to the cast. But the point is that there is no longer the frantic striving to keep everything as "short and simple as possible" that once existed, and this applies to everything in the nature of inserts quite as much as to the names used for characters in the picture. Little by little "art" in motion picture production is becoming a reality instead of being merely a high-sounding word used occasionally by the press-agents.
8. Describing the Characters
Since there is no restriction placed upon the way in which a cast of characters is made out, the writer may choose between the simple statement-form, when giving the names of his characters, and that in which the appearance and dominant traits of the character are set forth. You can say:
Silas Gregory, a miser,
Silas Gregory, a miser,
or you can draw a picture of the man himself in the very way you describe him, thus:
Silas Gregory, an extremely wealthy and eccentric miser; a bachelor and a man who both by his appearance and his nature repels the friendship of his fellow men; inclined to practice petty cruelty on children and animals; suspicious of and seeming to hate everybody except his old body-servant, Daniels, to whom he is strangely attached.
While the foregoing is a rather long description of a character to be included as part of the cast-outline,and while some of the points in connection with Gregory's nature could be more forcibly demonstrated by having himdolittle things in the action that would make them apparent, the point is that you are supplying these items of information for the benefit of the editor and the director, and that, as must be apparent, the fuller their understanding of your meaning in everything you write, the better will be their interpretation and production of your story.
It is very important to keep this point constantly in mind. Seldom is it today that the cast appears on the screen exactly as prepared by the author. Almost all the big companies at the present time are given to long sub-titles, and to lengthy statements in connection with the introduction of the principal characters. Many readers will see the similarity between the second of the foregoing descriptions of the old miser and the printed statement, in connection with a similar character, shown in the Triangle and Paramount pictures written by C. Gardner Sullivan, as well as in many others. The statement on the film which introduces a principal character, today, is much more in the nature of an actual leader than it is a mere announcement of the names of the character and the player. Thus, in Universal's feature production of "The Kaiser," the heroic blacksmith of Louvain was introduced in this way:
Marcas, the blacksmith of Louvain, was a mighty man. This man, Marcas, lived in faith and love and friendship, and, by the sweat of his brow, had won peace and happiness.MARCAS......................ELMO LINCOLN
Marcas, the blacksmith of Louvain, was a mighty man. This man, Marcas, lived in faith and love and friendship, and, by the sweat of his brow, had won peace and happiness.
MARCAS......................ELMO LINCOLN
In writing out your cast, give your most important characters first. Try, also, to simplify it and eliminate unnecessary words, first writing the name of a principal character and then giving the others in the order of their relationship, as:
Charles Waldron, a wealthy rancher.Mrs. Waldron, his wife.Bessie, his eldest daughter.Jean, his youngest daughter.Dick, his son.Graydon, Waldron's foreman.
Charles Waldron, a wealthy rancher.
Mrs. Waldron, his wife.
Bessie, his eldest daughter.
Jean, his youngest daughter.
Dick, his son.
Graydon, Waldron's foreman.
This will save words and show at a glance just how the other five characters are related to or connected with Charles Waldron.
Make it a rule to write your cast on the last sheet of your synopsisif you have plenty of room left after finishing the synopsis. Otherwise, use a separate sheet. Don't crowd the two divisions as if you were trying to economize paper. In the cast proper, give the names or occupations of every character whose work in the action really helps to advance the action of the play. Also name the scenes in which appear the various characters—other than the principals, who are likely to dominate nearly every scene.
The first two sample casts which follow do not give the characteristics of the different people concerned in the plot. They are simply reproduced as examples of photoplay casts which have been printed in the manufacturers' bulletins and other advertising matter, after the photoplay itself had been produced and was ready for release. The third and full cast is altered, so as not to be recognizable, from a photoplay which has not yet been produced. This last of the three forms is the one we recommend you to follow.
PIERRE OF THE NORTH
by
Elmer N. Wells
Pierre, a French Canadian trapper.......Baptiste, his brother...................Duncan McLain, a trapper................Mary McKenzie, the factor's daughter....John McKenzie, the factor...............Mail Carrier............................Half Breed..............................
Produced by the Selig Polyscope Company
THE OLD MUSICIAN
by
W.A. Tremayne
François Vian, an old musicianPierre le Noir, his neighborOscar Muhlbach, a German spyBertha le Noir, Pierre's sisterGeneral of the German armyInfantry officerGendarme
Produced by the Vitagraph Company of America
THE SOPHOMORE'S SURPRISE
by
X Y Z
The first step in the preparation of the scenario—or continuity of scenes—is not a step at all—it is a state of mind: the mood of visualization.
1. The Picture Eye
No matter how easy it may be for you to write a clear, brief and interesting synopsis of your story, nor how successful you may be in drawing up your cast of characters, you will fail in producing the right kind of scenario to accompany them until you acquire or cultivate the picturing eye. To possess it is simply to be able to visualize your story as you write it—yes, even before you write it. You must not only write that "Hal Murdoch steals his employer's letter-book so as to find out some important facts," but you must yourself firstseehim do it, just as you expect to see it on the screen. On the regular stage, the "business" of the actors—important as it is—is nevertheless of secondary consideration; dialogue comes first. On the photoplay stage it is just the reverse—at all times it is action that is of primary importance. It is what your characters do that counts. Leaders, letters, and other inserts help to make clear what you are trying to convey to the audience, but for a proper understanding and interpretation of your plot the spectators dependupon what they see the characters do; so how can you expect the editor, the producer, or the spectator, to "see" your plot understandingly unless you yourself are able to visualize every scene and incident distinctly as you are putting your thoughts on paper? This is what Mr. C.B. Hoadley has to say on this subject, quoted fromThe Photoplay Author, nowThe Writer's Monthly:
"Suppose you have a story that has all the requirements for an acceptable motion-picture play. You seat yourself to write it, chock full of enthusiasm and faith in the idea, and in the exuberance of your spirits you see visions of a substantial check. Very well. But have you a visualization of the story? Can you close your eyes and see it on the screen? Or will you 'get stuck' about the tenth scene when it appears to be running smoothly, and then finish along the lines of least resistance, mentally concluding that the plot is so excellent that the editor or director will finish the work you have so enthusiastically planned? This happens to about fifty per cent of the authors."
Mr. Phil. Lang, former editor of the Kalem Company, offered this sensible advice in reply to a question as to whether his company could use psychological scripts. We quote fromThe Moving Picture World:
"The successful photoplaywright is the one who has developed the 'picture eye.' If you will visualize each scene of this scenario, abandoning the 'psychology' which inspired it, you can readily determine how it will appear to the picture patron. The psychology ofan action or the development of an act in the photoplay is only psychology when the natural pantomime and business make it clear to the spectator. By the process of visualizing you can readily determine if your play offers anything different from others of the same character which have been done."
Strive, then, to cultivate this ability to see your scenes in action, remembering that it is the thing of all things most calculated to help you in writing a clear-cut, logical, and interesting scenario of your plot. What you cannot clearly visualize is not worth writing.
2. Identifying the Characters Early
There is nothing more annoying to the spectator or more calculated to insure the widespread condemnation of your photoplay after it has been produced than to fail in establishing the identity of all your principal characters early in the action. The basic relationship of each character to the others should be made clear just as soon as possible after each makes his first appearance in the picture, if, indeed, it is not made clear just before his appearance by the introduction of an explanatory insert.
We urge this clear identification of characters so that your spectators may be saved the annoyance of needless speculation, and be able to yield to the play their instant attention and sympathetic interest. Furthermore, this course will enable you to tell your story and develop your plot with much greater ease, since the onlookers, understanding who everybody is, andhow they are disposed towards each other, will grasp the points of the plot more quickly. Remember that the motives actuating the different characters are virtually sure to be the very foundations of a photoplay plot.
Almost everyone has sat half through a photoplay which was perfect in all other respects, but far from pleasing because it left the spectators guessing for minutes as to "who's who."
"Keep your first characters on the screen, even though in different scenes, long enough to get everyone familiar with them and their environment in the story before introducing a new and unexpected phase in the tale. To fail in this is faulty construction."[16]
3. Prompt Beginning of the Action
A common mistake among amateur photoplaywrights is to waste far too much time on preliminaries. If a guest is expected from a distant city, all that is necessary, as a rule, is to write in a short letter, which is opened and read by the host- or hostess-to-be, announcing that the guest will arrive at a certain time. But the young writer—to judge from many scripts we have examined—thinks that in such a case it is necessary to show the housemaid preparing the guest-chamber, another scene in which the hostess instructs the chauffeur to be ready at such an hour to meet her guest at the station, and so on. No matter what kind of story you are writing, go straight to the point fromthe opening—make the wheels of the plot actually commence to revolve in the first scene—plungeinto your action, don't wade timidly in inch by inch. To use up two or three scenes in showing trivial incidents which may happen to the characters while they are, so to speak, standing in the wings ready to make their entrances, is as tiresome as it is useless. If the hero of the Western story makes his first appearance by dashing into the scene madly pursued by a band of Indians, the spectator is not interested in finding out what he was doing at the time he first discovered the red men closing in upon him; it is how he will escape them that engages their whole attention. Once get your action started vividly and the interest of the spectators will permit you to give all the really necessary foundation information as you move on with your story.
4. Sequence in the Action
Apply the same rule of directness to the introduction of new characters in the scenes that follow. There is one main theme, one main line of development, in every well constructed story—and only one. See to it that you do not digress from it except as you bring up from the rear other essential parts of the action. There is absolutely no place in the photoplay for side trips.
As simply and as emphatically as we can put it, the most important thing in connection with the writing of the scenario is to have the action progress smoothly,logically, and interestingly from the first to the last scene. Wherever possible, one scene should lead into the next scene, and each scene should appear to be the only one possible—from the standpoint of the action it contains—at that stage of the plot's development. If, even for a moment, a scene appears to have been written in solely for effect, or merely to delay the climax of the story, the picture is open to criticism for padding. Not only should the denouement (the untying, the clearing up of the story at the close) appear to be the only one logically possible, but each successive scene should follow the one preceding it with inevitableness.
To be sure, this does not mean, as we explained in thechapter on Plot, that the sequence of your scenes must be the simple, straight-forward sequence of everyday life, in which one character is seen to carry out his action without interruption from start to finish. Quite to the contrary, photoplay action must often interrupt the course of one character so as to bring another personage, or set of personages, into the action at the proper time to furnish the surprising interruptions and complications—and their unfoldings—required to make a plot. But all this reallyisthe progressive, logical development of the story in good climacteric style.
Elsewhere in this volume we have spoken of the way in which the action progresses in the twelve- to sixteen-scene comic pictures in the comic supplements to the Sunday newspapers. Take for example the well-known "Bringing Up Father" series of "comics."Commencing with the basic situation, the action moves progressively to a logical conclusion, the climax coming, usually, in the next to the last picture. The last picture is the surprise-denouement—the event which naturally and inevitably follows the climax. There is, of course, a wide contrast between one of these series and a "dramatic" photoplay; but the same principle that governs the evolution of the story in the comic supplement should be applied to the working out of your photoplay story. Cultivate the picturing eye, we repeat, so that by being able to visualize each scene as you plan it in your mind you cannot fail to produce in your scenario a series of scenes whose action is logically connected and essentially natural and unforced.
5. The Interest of Suspense
To say that there must be a logical sequence in progressing from scene to scene, and that each must appear to be the natural outcome of the one preceding it, is by no means to say that you must suggest in one scene what is about to follow in the next. It is when we review a photoplay in retrospection that we decide whether proper care has been given to the planning of the scenes so as to make them lead smoothly one into the other, but while we are watching a photoplay for the first time, half the charm lies innotknowing what is coming next.
Suspense, then, must be kept in mind as the scenario is being planned. You should not only keep the spectator in suspense as to the climax as long as possible,but in building up your plot you should work in as many unexpected twists as you can without destroying its logic. Mr. Hoagland says: "Suspense is a delightful sensation, though we all beg not to be kept in it." So whet the spectator's imagination by springing little surprises and minor climaxes whenever they can be introduced without seeming to be forced. Make each such incident another step upward toward your climax proper; hold back the "big" surprise, the startling denouement, until the very end. The most enjoyable feature of Anna Katherine Green's "The Leavenworth Case" was that she kept the reader in the dark until the last chapter as to who was the real murderer. All the many detective novels that have since appeared have been successful exactly in proportion as the solution of the mystery has been withheld from the reader until the end of the story.
Naturally, this requires careful planning. About twenty years ago, one of the high-class fiction magazines published a story in which a reporter who had been interviewing the leading woman of a theatrical company was caught on the stage as the curtain rose on the first act. The leading woman was supposed to be "discovered" at the rise of the curtain, but the newspaper man was both surprised and embarrassed byhisbeing discovered. Nevertheless, having his overcoat on and carrying his hat in his hand, with great presence of mind he turned to the actress and said: "Very well, madam; I will call for the clock at three this afternoon." Then he made a deliberate exit, and the leading woman read her first speech. But, asthe play progressed, there was scarcely one in the audience who failed to wonder why the "actor" who had spoken the line about the clock did not reappear according to promise. At a certain point in the action of the drama, just where the intervention of someone from outside would have been most opportune, the audience expected that the "jeweler" would make his reappearance; but of course he did not, the play ended as the author had intended it to end—and the audience went out feeling that something had gone wrong somewhere—as it had.
The lesson to the photoplaywright is plain: Never introduce into the early scenes of the scenario any incident that is likely to mislead the spectator into thinking that it is of sufficient importance to affect the ultimate denouement, when it really has no bearing upon it. Reverse this, and you have another good rule to follow in writing the scenario. As one critic said in substance, if you intend to have one of your characters die of heart disease toward the end of the play, prepare your audience for this event by "registering" in an earlier scene the fact that his heart is affected. Do not drag in a scene to make this fact clear, but, in two or three different scenes, have him show that his heart is weak, and be sure that every one of these scenes serves the double purpose of registering this fact and introducing other important action relevant to the plot. In other words, make the slight attacks which the man experiences all through the story merely incidental to the scenes in which they occur. Then when the fatal attack comes, the audience is prepared for it, yet theyhave not been actually looking forward to it through several scenes. While speaking of heart disease, we would call the attention of the writer to an observation lately made by the photoplay critic ofThe Dramatic Mirror: "Scenario writers notwithstanding, it is exceptional for people to die because an unexpected piece of news shocks them, even when they suffer from weak hearts. Robust men do not part from life so readily, and film tragedies of this kind generally fail to carry conviction because the facts presented are divorced from the customary laws of nature."
Do not introduce a new character in one of the late scenes, especially if he or she is importantly connected with the plot, even though you use that character in the picture for only a brief interval. If the appearance of a certain man in one of the late scenes will help in saving the life of a condemned man, try to plan the entrance of this character into the story in an earlier scene, even though only for a period long enough to establish who and what he is. In this way you may avoid a long and otherwise unnecessary leader just when you are approaching your climax and thus halt the interest.
6. Action May Be Too Rapid
If you are writing the scenario of a dramatic plot, it is evident that, within reasonable limits, the more dramatic situations—the more "punches," in the vernacular—you can put into it, the more likely it is to find favor in the eyes of the editor and the producer.But too many writers, conscious of this fact, make the mistake of forcing the pace. The solid photoplay of today should not be made to resemble a cheap melodrama, in which something highly sensational is sure to happen every three minutes. Just because you have seen a sensational episode in a play on the screen, do not attempt to crowd your scenario with minor thrills and sensations, regardless of whether the incident pictured is relevant to the plot. If your plot is a strong one, its unfolding willsuggestscenes of sufficient dramatic quality to hold the interest. But do not search your brain for startling situations to introduce here, there, and everywhere in the action, paying no attention to whether they have little, if anything, to do with the plot.
Imagination is the writer's greatest asset, but imagination run riot is photoplay madness. It must be intelligently exercised else it will fairly run away with the plot, and the result will be a literary wreck. You must study—and hence realize at least fairly completely—the possibilities of your story before you start to write it at all. Haphazard work will never bring you anything—in photoplay writing or in any other creative line.
7. Centralizing the Interest
It is almost impossible to produce a really effective photoplay without centering the attention of the spectator on one of the principal characters and holding it there until the end. Even when the principal characters are lovers, either one or the other is bound to stand out in the picture more than the other. As in a play on the regular stage, either the hero or the heroine must dominate the action or the spectator is very likely to miss some of the best points of the plot because of the shifting interest. In such a play as "Romeo and Juliet," many would find it difficult to determine which of the two principal characters evokes the more sympathy and interest in the spectators. Yet a careful study of the play will leave no doubt that it was Shakespeare's intention that one of the two "star-crossed lovers"—Juliet—should dominate the action of the drama very subtly and certainly, the other being, though in only the slightest degree, it is true, subordinate to the "principal." The same thing is true in the stories of Damon and Pythias, Paolo and Francesca, and Pelleas and Melisande. You must determine at the very beginning whether it is to be the man or the woman, and, having trained the spot-light upon that one, keep it there until the end.
A certain picture, released about four years ago by a European manufacturer, was concerned with a husband, his wife, and his friend—a man who for a period of some months was a guest in the home of the pair. In the ordinary sense, it was not a problem plot; the friend was an honorable man, and the husband, who had the most sincere admiration for his old college companion, was a fine fellow in every way. Yet, as the story progressed it became apparent that there had been a love affair between the wife and herhusband's friend when they were both scarcely more than children. Little incidents in the action of the next few scenes gradually caused the audience to sympathize with the friend. Then, toward the end of the play, the sympathy was definitely shifted to the husband. This, of course, viewed in the proper light, was as it should be; but only a scene or two from the end of the picture an incident happened that again caused the audience to feel that it was the friend who alone deserved the woman's love. The result was that out of all the hundreds of people who saw the picture in the two days during which it was shown at a certain theatre, none expressed themselves as being satisfied with it, although only a few were able to say directly that they did not approve of the play because of the frequently shifted interest.
Thus the picture failed because whoever wrote it did not keep in mind the important fact that divided interest will go a long way toward destroying the dramatic value of any story, regardless of how perfect it may be otherwise.
Use as few principals as possible, no matter how many minor characters or extra people are employed; and be sure to keep the subordinate characters in the background sufficiently to prevent them from detracting in any way from the interest that should be constantly fixed upon your principals, and especially thetwoprincipals who make possible nine-tenths of all the stories written.
8. Managing Changes of Scene
In preparing the scenario it is important to remember that if a leader is introducedbeforea scene, the leader should be written first, and followed by the number and description of the scene. And in describing your scenes you should study the convenience of the director: where more than one scene is to be done in a set, refer back to theoriginalscene number. Thus if Scene 5 is the sheriff's office, and the same background is used for scenes 7, 9, and 14, when writing Scene 14 say:
14—Sheriff's office, same as 5—
14—Sheriff's office, same as 5—
No matter how many times that setting may be used as the background for a scene of your story, write it out every time just as you did at first. Do not merely say: Same as 5. Follow the scene number, whether it be 7, 9, or 14, with: "Sheriff's office;" then add the "same as 5." Also, do not forget what was said inChapter VIregarding the writing of your scene-number at 0 (or 0 and 1, if there are two figures) on the scale-bar of your typewriter. In this way, if 5 is your left marginal stop, you will have almost a half-inch space between the number and the description of the scene. Bridge this space with the hyphen or short-dash character, and you will be sure that the director's attention is quickly drawn to each change of scene.
It is extremely important to remember that in telling your story in action even the slightest change of location means another scene. Let us make this point perfectly clear:
Suppose you have a scene in which a fire ladder is placed against the wall of a burning building, only the lower part of the ladder showing in the picture. A fireman starts to mount, and finally disappears overhead. The scene changes, and we see the upper windows of the building and the upper portion of the ladder. Suddenly the fireman's head appears as he climbs up (into the picture), then his whole body comes into view, and presently he climbs in at one of the windows.
These are written in as two separate scenes, though it is plain that in real life they are actually one, and in the photoplay they are not separated even by an insert of any kind, thus seeming to be one, as intended.
But now suppose that when the fireman starts up the ladder the cameraman "follows him"—tilts his camera so that the result is a "shifting stage"—the eye of the spectator following the fireman as he goes up and until he reaches the top of the ladder and climbs in at the window. That, of course, constitutes only one scene—the swinging of the camera to follow the progress of the actor simply enlarges the stage, as it were. Such scenes as this second one are frequently seen in photoplays—an aëroplane leaving the ground and rising in its flight, a band of horsemen riding "across" and eventually "out of" a picture, a man climbing down the side of a cliff, and the like. But as a rule they are simply arranged by the director's instructing the cameraman to swing his camera as described—the writer of the script does not introduce an actual direction to the director to obtain the effect in this way but writes them in as two scenes.
In taking such panoramic scenes as those just described, the tripod of the camera remains unmoved. Even in a railroad drama, where we see an engine run down a track for a quarter of a mile or more, the camera is mounted on another train, which closely follows the one seen in the picture, and hence it is plainly, from a technical standpoint, only one scene, though while it is being shown on the screen the background is changing continuously. It is theabruptshifting from one locality to another that constitutes a "change of scene" in the photoplay.
This being so, it follows that each change of scene must be given a separate scene-number in your scenario. We have examined dozens of amateur scripts in which scenes would be found written thus:
8—Library, same as 2.
Tom looks on floor, fails to find locket, and then goes into one room after another searching for it.
Tom looks on floor, fails to find locket, and then goes into one room after another searching for it.
This, of course, is impossible. Even though the director were willing to show Tom going through the different rooms looking for the lost piece of jewelry, each scene would have to be separately and consecutively numbered in the scenario. If in the tenth room visited Tom should find the locket and then go out on the piazza to speak to Mabel about it, the scene showing the piazza would be 18 and not 9.
It is quite as incorrect to divide into two or more parts the action of what should be one scene, as alreadyexplained, as it is to try to make one scene out of two or more by running them together in the way illustrated in the foregoing bad example. To avoid both errors, bear in mind that besides giving every scene a separate scene number, you must write a scene into your scenario whenever it is necessary to supply a new background for some bit of action. For example, you cannot say: