By Laura P. Valtorta
The leap from prose writing to screenwriting can be weird
and difficult because the two media begin in a similar place but end up looking
very different. Both films and short stories, for example, begin with words
written on paper maybe in the form of a plot summary. But a film ends up as a
string of visual images, while a story remains in the form of words on paper.
A filmmaker must think about the juxtaposition of scenes.
While a short story could exist entirely in the head of a librarian sitting at
her desk, observing her weird patrons, a ninety minute film likely would not
take place entirely indoors or entirely from the perspective of the librarian.
Films need to jump between images, from outdoors to indoors,
from present to past, loud to quiet, in a way that keeps the audience
interested. The director must set the stage and the setting through images,
often called “establishing shots.” Films need to tell the audience where they
are in an instant and then keep moving.
Of course there are exceptions. My Dinner with Andre notoriously
broke all the rules by filming two guys talking in a restaurant for the entire
movie. Their conversation was so interesting and funny that it carried the
story.
As a beginner, I can’t take that chance. While writing the
screenplay version of Bermuda, it would be tempting to
keep Mildred seated around a swimming pool, talking to her daughters the entire
time. That would be fun. I might try it. But the dialogue would have to be firecracker-snappy.
Never monotonous.
The better choice would be to use some flashbacks, Mildred
bothering Little Willie, Mildred and her daughters at work, getting fired,
selling guns on the street, and then Mildred landing in Bermuda, where she
meets and has dinner with Hamilton, the little guy. Since it’s a comedy, we’ll
end with a wedding. Hopefully the action and the change in setting will keep
the audience interested.
Writing this tale down as a short story, I might do it
differently beginning with Mildred living in Bermuda successfully, or traveling
to India for a grand tour with friends. The story might work backwards. The
suspense would be more cerebral and ask – how did Mildred get here? Rather than
the more nail-biting – what’s going to happen to her? How will she survive?
This is why it helps to plan a narrative film out with
moveable index cards, white for outdoors and blue for indoors. Making the
scenes interchangeable somehow makes the film easier to visualize. When the
time comes for editing, that’s how the film will actually fit together – as a
series of scenes pasted together, deleted, and rearranged on the computer.
