Tired Conventions to Avoid

One of the problems of learning film by watching film is that new filmmakers, and old, confuse abused and sometimes nonsensical conventions with acceptable methodology. These common conventions may be well tried but don't ring true with modern movie-goers who are, thanks to the internet, far more sophisticated than audiences of the past. Next time you consider following one of these conventions, PLEASE, think again.

1. Everyone born before 1950 spoke with an English, Irish or Scottish accent. No, they didn't. Dear filmmaker, if your story is set in the Middle East 100 B.C., do remember that England didn't exist yet. Go with no accent or something more regional when making your casting and directing choices. On that note...
2. A spray tan will suffice in place of ethnic reality. Uh, no. Audiences didn't buy Mara Rooney as a native American in "Pan," and they won't buy that blue-eyed white guy playing an Egyptian pharaoh (with a British accent).
3. Anything with fuel explodes on impact. Seriously, watch a couple of episodes of "Myth Busters" before you plan your next stunt.
4. Young women are interested in dating older men. No, they're not. Oh, and on that note...
5. Women come in two age groups: twenties and silver-haired granny. Again, no. If you are casting a person who is seventeen, no one is going to believe that twenty-five-year-old is really his mom. Get ages right or get out of film. Women in their thirties, forties and fifties appeal to audiences and most ticket buyers today are women 35-49. Hmm....
6. Women can run and fight in high heels. That may have flown in the eighties, but ladies have figured this little bit of idiocy out nowadays. If a girl is going to do some butt-kicking or running, she's probably going to be in comfortable shoes. And unflattering pants. With a bra on. Get it?
7. Audiences are stupid and must have everything explained. Please, just stop with the expository speeches. Repeating what just happened to make sure we got it went out right about that time they poked fun at it in "Galaxy Quest."
8. If you're a genius, you know everything. How irritating. My IQ is around 163. I do not know how to fashion a rocket engine out of soup cans and radio wires. Give me a few diagrams or fifteen minutes on Bing and I might, but it's not just locked up there in my head to be accessed whenever I feel like it. Also, saying a character is a genius does not convince audiences s/he is. Being a genius also does not exempt you from personal care or wearing matched socks.
9. Bad guys die instantly from a single gunshot wound to the stomach. Naturally, the good guy can continue on to victory with 9 bullet holes and a stab wound. Honey, please! We've seen CNN. You get shot, it hurts, you fall down and bleed while calling for your mommy or 911. Unless you're hyped up on meth.
10. All drug dealers wear gold chains and listen to rap music while driving pimped out Cadillacs. Wow. Stereotype much? Today's crime lords look like your local politician or the high school volleyball coach. Sure, those gangsta types still exist, but don't let 80's Hollywood fool you. Criminals are far more sophisticated in this day and age.
11. A talented super geek can hack into any system by typing a few thousand characters while staring at a login prompt. Guess what? We all have computers now. Get that password wrong three times and it's nighty night. If I'm going to hack a system, I sure as heck am not going to physically break into a highly secured building and sit my silly butt down at a terminal and start typing random characters. No. I'm probably going to send Joe Bob in purchasing a tempting porn link and drop a Trojan on his PC. Then there's always the option of those adorable cat videos...
12. Remaking a beloved film with new technology will create an even better film. Sorry, but you should know by now this one is wholly wrong. Very few remakes are worth the cost of a tub of popcorn. If you're hurting for ideas, find a screenwriter. Preferably a new one with some fresh ideas. (Do not confuse "new" or "fresh" with "young." Young people have far fewer ideas than their life-worn peers.)
13. Last, but not least: Only attractive people can be good guys. Ugly people are always bad guys. (Yeah, tell that to the last few attractive guys I dated.) Here's the reality: average people want to see average people on screen doing the extraordinary things they fantasize about doing themselves. If we want to watch a bunch of supermodels running around in skimpy clothes, we'll watch a beer commercial or a perfume ad. Start casting actors who can act and quit pumping your films full of eye candy who couldn't deliver a believable line if their lives depended on it.
14. Sorry, missed one: All women come in a double-D. Except smart women. They're C cups. Do I even need to waste time explaining how idiotic this whole concept is?
15. Honorable mention in the bad film conventions department because this one is unique to our current decade: every cast MUST contain at least one Black person and one gay couple. No, it does not. Forcing a stereotype, race, religion, gender or otherwise into a film where it doesn't fit doesn't further anyone's cause or political agenda, and could even be working against the success of your film.

Film-makers: you know better. People are more sophisticated than they were even 10 years ago and we're sick and tired of watching the same crap year after year. We want truth. (Not to be confused with political or personal agendas.) If the success of those ridiculous reality shows tells you anything, it's that people want to see real people, not plastic Ken and Barbie dolls, on the bright flashy screen. Stretch reality, sure. But connect with your audience by exerting at least a modicum of effort in conveying some level of truth in your casting and your stories. You, and your audiences, will be happy you did.

5 Cool Film Collaboration Tools

Let's face it, with the advent of the digital age, the world of filmmaking has been dragged, sometimes kicking and screaming, right along behind it. While the world seems to continue to shrink, this is a massive advantage for the aspiring screenwriters and would-be filmmakers out there. Ten years ago, situated in Houston, TX, my film habit would be sorely under-served. Today, however, I am able to somewhat easily connect with others in the independent film world and keep my acting bug at bay with active voice and on-camera work.
     The magic connection? Aside from persistence, constant personal/professional growth, and a modicum of talent, I chalk it up in large part to these five collaboration tools. Here they are in no particular order.

1. Meetup.com - Once a place where lonely singles and bored twenty-somethings created online forums to plan outings with similarly minded individuals, Meetup now features many thriving film communities. You may have to try a few out before you find the right one, but there at least four pretty decent groups in any major city. Not one near you? For a few dollars a month, you can start your own and pay for it by collecting small membership fees from those who join. (Fees recommended if you want to filter out those who aren't really serious about their film careers.)
2. behindthevoiceactors.com - Whether you're an aspiring or experienced actor or filmmaker, this is a great place to connect with talent. Actors - perfect your vocal performance and audition skills from your couch. (Even if a part isn't a fit, submitting an audition and getting feedback is a great way to hone your skills.) Filmmakers - find some outstanding unknown voice-over and musical talent to aid you with narrations or bring your animated/CGI characters to life. Sure, there's a lot of subpar projects and talent on the site, but you can easily filter through the noise with just a little bit of effort. Some of my favorite lines to perform have come from  original audio books/plays and cartoon projects I've encountered on this site. To get a taste, check out my member page here.
3. Skype - There is a misconception out there that you have to be an Apple fanatic to make films. Get over it. Today Android is taking over the small device market place and Windows remains present on over 80% of the world's desktops. If you want to communicate with your collaborators, FOR FREE, over video and IM, Skype is the only reliable tool today that works on all four of the major platforms (iOS, OS X/Mac OS, Android and Windows). I love this as a way to collaborate on everything from screenwriting projects to voicing cartoons. Filmmakers, got a screenplay you want to test/table read before you move forward? Skype it.
4. Create50 - Created and owned by the London Screenwriters' Festival team, this unique concept brings together writers and artists from around the globe to create collaborative short stories, screenplays and films. There is a good deal of structure around the projects, so you may have to check back if you first step in at the wrong phase of a project cycle for your particular talents.
5. OneDrive - I know, I know. Another Microsoft tool. Shoot me. But hey, this is the same storage technology James Cameron leveraged to house the mounds of 3D data it took to produce Avatar, so it should be good enough for the rest of us, right? Platform agnostic (as of late 2015), OneDrive is the ultimate of shared storage out there. Sign up for a Microsoft account (you can use your current email), and you automatically get 15 GB/month for free. If you have an Office365 subscription, 10 TB is included. The service features near-military-grade security and encryption and syncs to any Windows or Apple device to provide offline access to your files anywhere, anytime. I keep all my in-work writing, resumes, headshots and voice-over recordings on this service, in addition to hundreds of photos. If I'm recording lines for an active project, all I have to do is share my folder out to the filmmaker and s/he has immediate access to all my audio files. (I control who has read only or full access.) Working on a screenplay? Combine this with Microsoft Word's shared editing capabilities, and multiple writers can simultaneously edit the same document without tripping over each other's changes. (I love the comments and review features in Microsoft Word, which even sports a free screenplay template that conforms to industry standards,)

     I think that's enough geeking out for now. Happy filmmaking! If you have a favorite collaboration tool of your own (other than the standard Twitter, Facebook, YouTube and Vimeo), leave a note in the comments. Like my grandmother used to say as she handed me a dustpan, "Everything is better when we work together."

Don't Tell Me, SHOW Me

In my July 2015 post "10 Tips for Film Fest Success," I mentioned one of my pet peeves is filmmakers using tired, over-used lines and phrases in the screenplay. My very, very favorite is the line that starts with "He is the best _____ I've ever seen." (Watch a dozen action movies and you'll hear it at least eight times.)
     Instead of telling me that Super Cop is the best police officer you've ever seen, SHOW me. Why? Well, for one, I don't know why the speaking character's opinion matters. Has he really seen that many cops? What does being the best actually mean? Does it have any bearing on the situation? Instead of dragging up another tired line or having a character I just met try to convince me (or another character), find a way to let me figure it out for myself. After all, if I wanted to have everything explained to me, I'd buy an audio book instead of going to a movie or watching TV.
     One easy technique to use is a quick montage, or series of shots. It might look like this:

(NOTE: All screenplay samples are the exclusive property of FracturedMom and require written permission prior to reprint or use.)
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SERIES OF SHOTS - SUPER COP'S HOME OFFICE

A. Several award certificates framed on a wall in a cluster.

B. A framed newspaper clipping with the headline "Super Cop Saves Metro City Again!" sits on a shelf next to a large glass trophy inscribed "Your City Thanks You."

C.  A picture of a politician shaking hands with Super Cop.

D. On the desk, a case full of medals and ribbons sits next to another case holding a large brass key inscribed "Metro City."
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     Without saying a word, you've established that your character is an exceptional police officer. This bears far more credibility than having someone say it.

     Another common over-sharing mistake you see are characters talking about what happened to another character in the past. In this case, a flashback will usually be more effective in conveying how past events have affected your character. For example, instead of having someone say "Jane's afraid to fly because she was in a plane crash that killed her dad," try something like this:

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EXT. AIRPORT - DAY

Jane hesitates outside the airport door, letting Bob and Lily walk on ahead of her. Bob stops and turns back toward her.

BOB

          What's the matter, Jane? I thought you were excited to go to Paris.

INT.  SMALL PROP PLANE - DAY (FLASHBACK)

Jane and her DAD are sitting in the cockpit of a small twin engine prop plane. Her dad is piloting the plane. The propellers can be seen spinning outside the cockpit windows as they fly in and out of clouds.

JANE'S P.O.V. - ENGINE OUTSIDE WINDOW

The engine bursts into flame with a loud BANG.

DAD -

He struggles with the controls as the cockpit shakes. There is another loud BANG. His face twists in terror.

THE CONTROLS -

Alerts flash warnings as the altitude drops rapidly.

JANE'S P.O.V. - THE COCKPIT WINDOW

Trees crash against the window, cracking the glass. A huge tree looms into view. The window SHATTERS.

JANES P.O.V. - HER DAD

A tree branch crashes into the cockpit, impaling her dad in the chest. He collapses forward, draped over the branch like a rag doll. Jane SCREAMS.

JANE -

Jane's body is flung forward as the plane comes to a sudden stop. Her head hits the dash in front of her. Blood flows from her forehead.

END FLASHBACK
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     Now, if Jane's character refuses to get on a plane, the audience understands the cause and severity of her fear far better than they would have from a few lines of dialogue.
     Instead of having characters describe an object or person, use an insert or cutaway. (See my January 2016 post on Cutaways.)
     The takeaway here is, before you have someone explain something in dialogue, try to figure out how you can tell the story visually instead. Unlike stage plays, movies and television shows give us the opportunity to tell a story with minimal dialogue. In the long tradition of abusing tired old phrases, when it comes to screenplays and dialogue, "less is more."

Why Cutaways Matter

I recently spent a couple of hours filming a quick little silent cutaway for an acquaintance who was adding the finishing touches to his latest short film. (Laughably, he had asked this 40-something single mom to play a trophy wife. I should get an Oscar for that one, hee hee!) It took me longer to wriggle into the sparkly little black dress than it did to film my bit, but it got me thinking: cutaways are critical, but you don't hear much about them.
     If you're new to the industry, this might be a new term for you, so here's the short definition: a cutaway is a short deviation from or interruption to the main scene used to convey information not visually present in the main scene. Cutaways seldom have dialogue, though there are no hard and fast rules preventing it. They are seldom more than a few seconds long, maybe 15 seconds max, and should be carefully placed to avoid disrupting the point of the main scene. (Again, no hard and fast rules.) In general, a cutaway is used to provide insight into a character's thoughts, a break in a long sequence of action, to simplify special effects or just to make a scene more interesting.
     In the example of the bit I filmed last month, the two main characters are talking about the trophy wife and the cutaway is used to briefly visualize the topic of their conversation. Most of the short film takes place in the same location, so my friend used a few strategically-placed inserts and cutaways to add color to the film and break up the monotony of the confined location.
     Cutaways can be the difference in a boring film and a work of art. Take "American Beauty," for example. The cutaway to Lester's dream about Angela in a bath of rose petals became the iconic image of the movie.
     Since cutaways aren't really scenes themselves, they are generally represented by slug lines in your screenplay. Again, using my little bit as an example, it might have looked like this in the screenplay:

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CUTAWAY - JENNY PRIMPING IN MIRROR

She fixes her makeup and quickly adjusts her cleavage.

RETURN TO SCENE

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     A cutaway is continuous to the action of the main scene and brief enough to avoid busting the pace of the action. It should always supplement the action of the main scene and differs from an insert in that it shows something that is occurring outside the scope of the main scene. It can be the ticking clock of a bomb your main character is racing to locate, an eavesdropper on the other side of a door, enemies gathering outside the heroes' sanctuary, and so on.
     What's most important is that your cutaway is the same quality and feel as the rest of your film. Yes, there are times where the cutaway may be old stock footage or intentionally different, but such disruptions to the main scene should not jar your audience out of the world you have created.
     Your cutaway needs to make sense within the scene. If you're tracking the countdown on a bomb's timer, make sure the elapsed time makes sense with the pace of your scene, especially if you return to it. For example, if my character is running down the street and I cutaway to my bomb, cut back to see him cross the street, then cut back to the bomb and it's counted down 5 minutes, my audience is going to call foul. I remember watching a film about a year ago that blew it big time with the cutaways. The filmmaker showed his main character in his car heading to the site of an accident. In his cutaway from the car interior to the accident site, it was raining. When the character arrived at the site moments later, the car was dry and there was no sign it had ever rained. That little inconsistency was so disconcerting I lost the importance of the location. He would've been better off skipping the cutaway altogether since the weather hadn't cooperated between shooting times.
     Don't use bad actors in your cutaways, either. It may seem like a great time to give Cousin Bob a little moment in your film, but if Bob sucks, it can ruin the whole scene. The most common sin you see here are actors over-doing it in an effort to steal the scene or make the most of their little moment. As a filmmaker, your biggest challenge is to get them to act natural for 10-15 seconds. (Unless it's slapstick, then all bets are off.) Help your actors understand that their moment will have more weight if it's believable, not over-baked. Don't be afraid to spend time getting the shot just right and never make the mistake of assuming your actor won't need direction.
     With the exception of "American Beauty" your cutaway should never over-shadow the main scene. Think of it as an illustration in a chapter book. It supplements the action, provides insight that can't be conveyed in the context of the main scene, helps time elapse, even lets the watcher in on a secret. Take this scene as an example:

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INT. GARAGE - DAY TIME

A MYSTERIOUS MAN sits at a worktable built into an alcove in the over-sized garage, a myriad of bomb materials scattered around a shoe with a thick bottom, a small, almost flat completed device amongst the mess. He peels back the sole of the shoe and begins scraping out the inside of it.

CUTAWAY - CIRCUS SECURITY GATE

Security officers are inspecting bags on a table and using metal detection wands as families enter the grounds of the circus.

RETURN TO SCENE

The Mysterious Man inserts the small device into the hollow now in his shoe and carefully seals up the sole, leaving just a bit of fuse sticking out. He puts on the shoe, grabs a small camera bag and climbs into the car.

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     In this scene, the cutaway builds tension by revealing to us that the mysterious man is placing the bomb in his shoe with the intent of attacking a stadium full of children. Without the cutaway, the audience can only guess at where and how he intends to use the bomb and will likely assume it's an airport. As a screenwriter, I can choose to leave my audience guessing and surprise them with the target later, or I can warn them of the impending attack and up the importance of my hero finding the villain before he can carry out his evil plot.
     In short, don't forget to plan your cutaways when you start developing your screenplay. If you're working with a screenplay that has none or seems a bit dry, take advantage of this technique to spice it up.

    For a great list of cutaway scenarios, check out this 2008 article by Eric Ossohou: The Art of the Cutaway.

Biting the Hand

Ah, film students. Like any college kid - ahem - "young adult," they know it all. They've spent a semester or two under the skillful tutelage of a sage-but-untenured professor and now are ready to show the world they're in charge.
     Snark is often the first skill we'll see leveraged by these lovely young up-and-coming film moguls. First, they will troll social media and fire off shots at everyone who expresses anything to which they do not agree with sniper-like accuracy. Seriously, didn't you know that those 524 Twitter followers, 387 of which are spam accounts, and that project film they shot in six weeks qualify them as experts? Second, they will blog, expounding at length why the producer with thirty years of experience working with big Hollywood studios is completely clueless when it comes to modern filmmaking. Oh, and those well-known but sketchily documented industry standards mean nothing since our young upstart has plans to prove them irrelevant.
     Tsk-tsk, sweet babies, did no one tell you in your six months of collegiate enlightenment that the use of snark is a privilege earned through vast experience and a proven track record of success? Unless you need only be mentioned by one name for the A-listers to jump onto your latest project, you should probably leave the snark buried in the bottom of your sock drawer.
     I'll probably never fully understand why the current generation thinks being cocky and obnoxious will get them anywhere. Although I guess one could say they're right: it will get you to the exit door faster than a pair of well-greased roller skates and a turbo jet strapped to your butt. Somewhere along the line most of the people currently under the age of thirty got brainwashed into thinking that being disrespectful will gain them respect. (I suspect this has a lot to do with the continued over-indulgence and current cultural wave of demanding everyone bend to children's every whim, but who am I to say?) Here's a fine example for you:
     I recently forwarded a tweet recommending an article describing how one well-experienced filmmaker applied the first 10-minute rule to his own personal viewing of films released in the past year. (If you're not familiar, this rule is commonly applied by readers in evaluating new screenplays, but is also commonly used in evaluating film festival submissions as well.) "Get an attention span," another user replied, as if this 10-minute thing was my idea. (Should I have been flattered that he thought it was?) He doesn't know me. He obviously doesn't know the industry well enough to realize that understanding this little rule will be critical to his future success. I hovered over his name to find the title "Film Student." Ah. I was no longer surprised. Film school may teach you processes and technique but only experience or a really well-aged mentor will enlighten you to the realities of the film industry. This young man probably thought that his snarky response would catch my attention and convince me to change my stance.
     Sadly, what really ends up happening in these situations is that those of us who have tread the long hard road before the cocky film student (or recent grad) smile quietly and nod our heads while the youngster in front of us lambasts everything we learned and accomplished before him. We listen politely as he insults the rules we all must play by and the methodology we all know works, having already tried and proven lacking many other ways of getting things done. If he shows promise, we MIGHT feel compelled to take him aside and guide him to try a different approach when speaking to people he may not know well but who likely can make or break his film career before it has even started. Given the number of hateful know-it-all twenty-somethings out there today, that's rarely going to happen. Instead, the group of older, more experienced filmmakers will shake their heads after he walks away and make a mental note to avoid hiring his obnoxious ass in the future.
     So, listen up film school kid! If you want to make it in film, the first thing you need to accept is that you don't know jack, and won't for many more years. Whether you like it or not, there are people out there who have forgotten more about making films than you will ever learn, no matter how pioneering your professors proclaim you to be. Your best bet is to learn to replace that cocky attitude with a whole lot of humility, a healthy dose of respect and just the right amount of confidence. You will get much further by listening and asking questions than by flatly rejecting the advice of your predecessors. Watch what you post, tweet, pin or whatever. When your name appears on a producer's desk for a critical position on a project, rest assured that producer will search the Twitter-verse and all related digital entities before he or she waists their limited budget on you. That blogger you slammed on Facebook just might turn out to be the producer's favorite niece.
     Now, zip it and go share this advice with your friends before they accidentally bite the hands that may soon be feeding them, too.