by Jim Mercurio
The change, in the form of small-scale or large-scale growth, could lead to the goal’s attainment. For instance, a character’s patience might be the key to getting another character to share critical information.
Sometimes the character’s inability to attain what he came for alters his attitude or approach in the ensuing scene(s). Maybe his confidence gives way to desperation. Maybe a by-the-book character begins to break the rules. Or a character on the brink totally loses control.
Consider the imagined scene described above in which our protagonist is stood up by a blind date. From a story perspective, the change might be slight. Although the moment might not deliver a crushing blow to our protagonist’s ego, the action in the scene will affect our character’s internal state. Stay attuned to his mind-set and the subtle emotional consequences. Does he decide to be productive and go to the gym, or does he slip off his diet by drowning his sorrows in a pint of his favorite ice cream?
I am often asked: “Does a scene have to involve a change in the character every time?” My response: “Why wouldn’t it?” A scene’s climax is a twist that reveals insight into a character. If you have only thirty or so of these opportunities in a screenplay, how can you afford to pass up any of them?
The Hollywood paradigm of narrative filmmaking demands scenes containing both kinds of changes.
Notice that in defining a scene we haven’t yet said a single word about dialogue.
Since we’ll be looking at the work of great writers, we’ll be seeing a lot of great dialogue. Many of the all-time greatest scenes have memorable dialogue, which contributes to the misconception that dialogue is the be-all and end-all of great scene writing.
In reality, at the base of a great scene lies a well-defined structure.
Working Definition of a Scene
Mike Nichols found an intuitive working definition of a scene. He said all scenes were either a fight, a negotiation, or a seduction. Eventually, you will find your own definition that suits you, which might be as simple as “a character, goal, and obstacle(s).”
For now though, let’s explore a slightly more nuanced definition. The more obstacles in a scene, the more a character has to zigzag and change strategy to reach her goal. These ongoing adjustments are essentially small turning points and are the foundation and building blocks for a scene. They are called beats.
A scene is a series of zigzagging beats that culminates in a climax, which will be the biggest surprise in the scene. A series of scenes that ends in an even bigger change is a sequence. Sequences accumulate into a reversal and together make an act. A series of acts culminates with the biggest change, the climax of the overall story.
A beat is the smallest unit of dramatic action. Consider it a small change. If nothing changes in a moment, then there isn’t a beat. But when the character hits a wall, adjusts, and tries something new, that’s a beat. When another character reacts to an action, that’s a beat. These are the aforementioned zigzags.
If a person sits in a chair, the action is not, in and of itself, a beat. If a character waves to someone and the wave is reciprocated, that might not be a beat either. However, if that wave were not reciprocated, then that non-action could be a beat. If a student is told to sit and she refuses, then that’s a beat. There is the deliberate action of defying or disrespecting.
These changes keep the audience engaged by creating suspense and momentum. The bare skeleton of a scene may not look very compelling, but a series of compounding beats serves as the foundation for everything that follows.
Let’s see a scene develop beat by beat.
Scene Analysis:
Clear and Present Danger
Here is a short scene from the movie Clear and Present Danger, the adaptation of the third Tom Clancy/Jack Ryan book. Jack Ryan (Harrison Ford) meets with Clark (Willem Dafoe), intent on gathering information that should put him one step closer to his ultimate goal of finding and defeating the villains.
The scene begins with Clark sitting in a hotel lobby as Jack Ryan enters. Clark approaches Ryan and tells him that he is late. Ryan apologizes, and Clark points to his watch and says, “Ten minutes.” Besides adding a dash of urgency to the scene, the gesture ushers in a sense of unease by making the tardy Jack Ryan start off on the wrong foot. He now must regain Clark’s respect and trust.
Transcription and Description of Scene from
Clear and Present Danger
RYAN
I can’t prove it but…
(This comes close to feeling like exposition, but there is a mild beat: persuading, convincing, or maybe even defending. However, the filmmakers don’t want to spend too much time with this low-level action, so they come in at the tail end of it. In general, “informing” is never really a beat. If the action is merely “delivering information,” then that is exposition in its worst connotation. Actors don’t want to deliver it, and audiences will be bored to tears.)
CLARK
Why are you coming to me? I have been out of the game for a long time.
(Clark shuts him down, exposes his shaky footing for what it is—scrambling in the dark—and challenges him.)
RYAN
Well, I was told you were the best, you were tied in.
(Notice the modifiers “well” and “I was told.” Without them, this comes off as a straight compliment, possibly even “kissing his butt.” With them, this becomes a back-handed compliment, with a touch of sarcasm. Harrison Ford and most A-list actors refuse to play characters who are weak or subservient.)
Clark laughs.
(Clark loosens up. He respects Ryan’s refusal to be frazzled or intimidated. Now, in retrospect, we can appreciate Ryan’s beat as “cutting through the crap” and establishing himself as an equal.)
CLARK
Who told you that?
(He opens up to a straightforward exchange and makes a simple, honest inquiry, which shows that he is taking Ryan seriously. The beat is probably “respecting” or “engaging.”)
RYAN
Jim Greer.
(He matches Clark’s directness with a simple, honest answer.)
Clark stares intently at Ryan. Ryan senses the shift to seriousness.
CLARK
How’s he doing?
(Clark poses a question that is part inquiry and part test.)
Look of concern on Ryan’s face.
RYAN
Not good.
CLARK
He’s a good man.
(Clark confides how he feels while the following description describes a sort of “testing.”)
Clark sees Ryan’s look of concern.
RYAN
The best.
(Ryan openly shares his true feelings and establishes common ground with Clark through their mutual respect for Jim Greer. Ryan passes muster. Clark deems him worthy of sharing information. The turning point is highlighted by a series of changes: in the music, the pacing, Clark’s blocking as he stands up, and his tone of voice.)
CLARK
(suddenly exuberant)
You a coffee drinker, Dr. Ryan?
(The tipping of the emotional scales toward the warmer and lighter side is apparent. And posing a question is a crafty way of grabbing Ryan’s and the viewer’s attention.)
RYAN
Coffee. Sure.
Clark stands up, offers hand.
CLARK
Try Lindo Brand. I think you’ll find what you are looking for.
(This cryptic and playful way of offering Ryan the tip rings true in the “voice” of a secret agent. Now that Clark trusts Ryan, he proceeds with “confiding and helping.”)
Notice how the climax culminates in a clear change in the story (a clue to investigate) and in their relationship (they bonded over a mutual friend). Perhaps it’s even the start of an alliance.
Beat Outline
A scene is a story in and of itself, and the “beat outline” tells it in its entirety. In the above scene, we don’t have to rely on a series of “he sai
d this” or “she said that” to describe it.
Jack starts off on the wrong foot with Clark, whose mistrust and skepticism are the basis of their conflict. Jack risks offending him to establish equal footing, which leads them to common ground—their mutual affection for a shared friend. With a new sense of respect and trust for him, Clark chooses to share information that will help Jack.
The scene’s structure is the backbone that props up and supports everything in it. This spine consists of beats that provide twists and turns. A beat can play out as a line of dialogue or an action/inaction.
Notice how these simple beats are in constant escalation in the above scene:
• Justifies, defends
• Shuts him down
• Insults/compliments
• Loosens up, reveals himself
• Tests him with question about Greer
• Answers question with honesty, shows himself
• Continues test
• Shows sympathy, passes test
• Finds common ground
• Perceives the bond, decides to help
This scene is fairly subtle emotionally and is made up of only short one- and two-line dialogue exchanges. However, over-the-top scenes, marked by huge emotions, can also play out in a few simple beats, even if those beats seem quite plain at the outline level. Let’s look at a great scene—which also happens to be full of audacious dialogue—and x-ray it to reveal its backbone. Here are its first five beats:
• Character A asks Character B where the stolen property is (Character B’s son has it).
• Character B lies and says that he doesn’t know.
• Character A calls him on the lie.
• Character B tries a more elaborate lie.
• Character A hurts him and convinces Character B that he knows he is lying.
Goons strong-arming a street thug? Retorting with an elaborate lie? Calling his bluff? Doesn’t this sound like a cliched scene from a bad eighties TV drama? It’s actually one of the most memorable scenes in modern cinema. It is the beginning of the interrogation scene between Cliff and Vincent from True Romance, written by Quentin Tarantino.
The dialogue in this scene is purposefully incendiary and offensive because one character wants to incite the other into taking a violent impulsive action. This is an additional challenge for you. Don’t get caught up in the showy banter and miss the point of how the posturing serves the scene’s backbone: simple, clear-cut goals and beats.
Scene Analysis:
True Romance
The vicious Vincenzo Coccotti (Christopher Walken) is described in the script as “the Frank Nitti to Detroit mob leader Blue Lou Boyle.” He and his henchmen, Virgil and Lenny, have ambushed Clifford (Dennis Hopper), a retired cop, in his trailer home. Clifford’s son Clarence has absconded with the mafia’s drugs, and Vincenzo interrogates Clifford in an effort to discover Clarence’s whereabouts.
Note: A wide ellipsis “…” on a line by itself represents an omission I am making in the material for the sake of brevity, when the excised part is not essential to the discussion.
INT. TRAILER DAY
…
COCCOTTI
Do you know who I am, Mr. Worley?
CLIFF
I give up. Who are you?
COCCOTTI
…
I work as a counsel for Mr. Blue Lou Boyle, the man your son stole from. I hear you were once a cop so I assume you’ve heard of us before. Am I correct?
(Coccotti is intimidating him, demanding respect.)
CLIFF
I’ve heard of Blue Lou Boyle.
(Cliff confirms but does it in a way that dismisses Coccotti.)
Coccotti establishes his mobster credentials and his goal of learning Clarence’s whereabouts. He warns Cliff to be honest or suffer grave consequences. Cliff turns down Coccotti’s offer of a cigarette. Coccotti’s interrogation starts out soft, and he even tries to seem empathetic. He makes it clear that Cliff has no choice but to cooperate.
COCCOTTI
… And I implore you not to go down the road with ’em. You can always take comfort in the fact that you never had a choice.
(Coccotti is applying some pressure here. Ironically, Cliff does outmaneuver him with a surprising choice later in the scene.)
CLIFF
Look, I’d help ya if I could, but I haven’t seen Clarence --
Before Cliff can finish his sentence, Coccotti slams him hard in the nose with his fist.
(Cliff’s action here—lying to cover for his son—is the least interesting beat. Notice that it takes less than a sentence for Coccotti to register the predictable lie. The details of the lie are unimportant. As soon as Coccotti understands the goal behind the beat, he reacts. The punch is a part of the resulting beat: “calling his bluff.” Later, the scene will allow a character to tell a story in its entirety, but this particular instance doesn’t merit much time or space.)
COCCOTTI
… your neighbors. They saw a Mustang, a red Mustang, Clarence’s red Mustang, parked in front of your trailer yesterday. Mr. Worley, have you seen your son?
(This beat is “calling him on his lie” and “demanding disclosure.”)
Cliff’s defeated.
This is how Coccotti reminds Cliff in a roundabout way of Clarence’s transgression so that Cliff might better understand the stakes.
…
COCCOTTI
I’m gettin’ angry askin’ the same question a second time. Where did they go?
CLIFF
They didn’t tell me.
Coccotti looks at him.
(Cliff gathers himself and comes up with a better lie. Here is its culmination.)
CLIFF
… and that’s the last I saw of him. So help me God. They never thought to tell me where they were goin’. And I never thought to ask.
(Cliff really gives it a shot. He pours his heart out into the best lie he can muster and tries to wrestle back some control. The overarching goal of saving his son inspires the sub-goal: “I gotta tell a great lie, so they will believe me and not hurt me.”)
Coccotti motions to a henchman, who then slashes the palm of Cliff’s hand and pours alcohol on the wound. Coccotti puffs a cigarette—a brief lull—before he makes a move to escalate things.
Although the characters are colorful, the scene’s first two beats are run-of-the-mill. If you put three clichés in a row, you still have a cliché. But this is where the characters’ actions begin to make the scene special and rise above clichés.
COCCOTTI
Sicilians are great liars. The best in the world. I’m a Sicilian. And my old man was the world heavyweight champion of Sicilian liars. And from growin’ up with him I learned the pantomime. Now there are seventeen different things a guy can do when he lies to give him away. A guy has seventeen pantomimes. A woman’s got twenty, but a guy’s got seventeen. And if you know ’em like ya know your own face, they beat lie detectors to hell. What we got here is a little game of show and tell. You don’t wanna show me nothin’. But you’re tellin’ me everything. Now I know you know where they are. So tell me, before I do some damage you won’t walk away from.
(Coccotti’s story entertains us and raises the stakes, but notice its clear-cut service to the scene’s escalating structure. The beat is clear: he threatens him, corners him, and convinces him of the imminent danger.)
The awful pain in Cliff’s hand is being replaced by the awful pain in his heart. He looks deep into Coccotti’s eyes.
CLIFF
Could I have one of those Chesterfields now?
Earlier, Cliff turned down a cigarette but now he accepts it. It plays just like when a condemned man gets a final request, a last cigarette or meal. The music and lighting underscore a clear change.
The scene slows down here, at its midpoint. It’s the proverbial calm before the storm. And it draws us in, because we sense the change in Cliff and wonder about the looming, unanswered question
of what he is going to do next.
After Cliff gets the cigarette, he takes control of the scene for a moment, asking for a light. He antagonizes Coccotti a bit and creates an additional moment of suspense and mystery with his rhetorical question:
CLIFF
So you’re a Sicilian, huh?
COCCOTTI
(intensely)
Uh-huh.
CLIFF
You know I read a lot. Especially things that have to do with history. I find that shit fascinating.
(In the script, this dialogue is continuous, but Cliff pauses here. His instincts are great. He is giving the speech of his life, which warrants the unhurried pacing as he intrigues Coccotti and toys with him by drawing him into the conversation.)
In fact, I don’t know if you know this or not.
(It’s hard to separate the craft of the actor from that of the character, but Cliff takes a long and deliberate puff of his cigarette. He continues to create intrigue and string Vincent along. Remember how Clark asked Dr. Ryan, “Are you a coffee drinker?” Asking a question and inserting a pause can create suspense out of nowhere. When he finally brings down the punch line, cool and deliberate, it’s a racial slur that lands like a sucker punch.)
Sicilians were spawned by n*****s.
All the men stop what they were doing and look at Cliff, except for Tooth-pic Vic who doesn’t speak English and so isn’t insulted. Coccotti can’t believe what he’s hearing.
(The point at which an individual viewer recognizes what Cliff is doing may vary. But when regarded in retrospect, the character’s intention becomes clear. Even if we do not grasp the beat’s actual purpose while watching the scene, we are intrigued by the suspense and mystery of his captivating rhetoric.)
COCCOTTI
Come again?
CLIFF
It’s a fact. Sicilians have n****r blood pumpin’ through their hearts. If you don’t believe me, look it up. You see, hundreds and hundreds of years ago the Moors conquered Sicily. And Moors are n*****s…
(His delivery is straight-faced, but its warped logic is cutting and darkly amusing as it builds suspense and speeds things toward the inevitable climax.)
… Your ancestors were n*****s. Your great, great, great, great, great-grandmother was f****d by a n****r, and had a half-n****r kid. That is a fact. Now tell me, am I lyin’?
