Keep in mind, of course, the subjective nature of this exercise. One of the caveats I always include in my own coverage notes is that it is up to the individual writer whether or not to incorporate the recommendations into subsequent drafts. Certainly the more people you invite to read your work, the better handle you have on how it’s going to be received by a broader audience. Just because you have paid someone money to render a critique of your work doesn’t mean that his or her opinion is more valuable than nine friends of yours from college who just read it for free. What it does mean, however, is that you are tapping the expertise of an industry pro who can provide solid guidance on how to fix trouble spots that may be keeping your work from getting produced.
That said, you need to remember why you engaged the consultant’s services to begin with, especially if the critique you receive is less glowing than what you were anticipating. For as many clients as I mentor who come away with a clearer understanding of what needs to be done to make their work stand up to scrutiny and tough competition, I have an equal number who take a defensive stance and spend more time arguing than learning.
The following story illustrates this point.
Several years ago, I was approached by an earnest middle manager named Wally who was obsessed with the Lewis and Clark Expedition and wanted my professional advice in penning an epic film about it. While the source of Wally’s particular fixation was never really made clear during the entire time he was a client, I nonetheless felt compelled to point out to him that (1) it had already been done and (2) Lewis and Clark don’t exactly spring to the forefront as riveting, cinematic giants.
Wally, however, was insistent on pursuing his vision. After all, he explained, the expedition’s 200th anniversary was approaching and he was confident that he was the only one who had been paying any attention to the calendar.
NOTE TO EPIC FEATURE WRITERS: Studios that film historical adventures tend to keep track of these things and start planning for them 5-10 years in advance. If the event holds enough commercial substance, you can bet someone else already has it in the queue.
The most challenging aspect of such films, of course, is that historical events themselves are either the end-game or accidental by-product of a much larger succession of celestial happenings. From the standpoint of a contemporary audience, the farther removed they perceive themselves to be from “So how does any of this ‘old news’ affect me personally,” the harder it is to convince the powers-that-be to fund it. Relevance to 21st century viewers has to clearly outvote whatever relevance the event itself had to the people who experienced it first-hand.
Historical retrospectives are also hard to manage from a structural level. Starting the plot from the very first domino that set the rest in motion can make for a story that’s too long. On the flip side, starting the action at the denouement can result in a tale which then has nowhere to go except into recap and reminiscence.
The additional encumbrance of an audience already knowing what the denouement is (i.e., the North wins, the ship sinks, the president gets assassinated) necessitates the author having to explore the existing body of knowledge through an alternative dimension and/or viewpoint. The question of what is going to happen accordingly assumes less importance than how and why it will impact the various characters involved. More often than not, the crisis represents a platform for social commentary, affirming that only under the most extenuating state of affairs will the best and worst of human nature be revealed.
RULE NO. 1: If it takes too much exposition to establish what the core conflict is going to be, it won’t work as a feature film. Audiences don’t have the patience to watch “reel” life played out and chronologically explained in “real” time.
Not only did Wally’s initial draft ignore the excessive backstory rules of screenwriting but he chose to make as his lead character a fictional lieutenant through which the wild and woolly adventures in the Pacific Northwest would be experienced. (Sort of a Greek chorus, if you will, on why Thomas Jefferson was so keen on the westward expansion plan to begin with.)
He began the script with the young lieutenant’s stint at West Point and from there segued to a nostalgic visit home to his invalid mother, his strict and unloving alcoholic father, and his younger sister who was engaged to his best friend’s brother who had originally contemplated the priesthood but changed his mind when—
Whoa! Wasn’t this supposed to be an epic about Meriwether Lewis and William Clark? What are all these other people doing here?
Wally maintained that the lieutenant’s dysfunctional family life was critical to the plot, especially since said lieutenant was going to meet an equally fictitious Indian princess along the way and that Sacagawea would be instrumental in convincing the princess’ father not to bash the lieutenant’s brains out on the nearest rock.
Hmmm. This was beginning to sound like Pocahontas Meets Dances With Wolves.
I recommended to him that if his intention was to glorify the accomplishments and heroics of the people on the expedition, he’d be better served to stick with those who were actually on it. Considering that this was probably one of the most thoroughly documented travels of its time, thrusting at least two fictional characters into its finite midst — 39 humans and 1 dog — would be sure to incur the wrath of the very history buffs whom Wally was trying to court as his primary audience.
In fairness, of course, even the 1955 version of this intrepid excursion into the wilderness was marred by the inclusion of Barbara Hale as a separate love interest for the two feuding frontiersmen (Fred MacMurray and Charlton Heston) in order to deflect potential controversy over an interracial romance involving Sacagawea.
That the latter was winsomely played by Donna Reed, of course, was supposed to be overlooked. Suffice it to say, 1950s moviegoers were more likely to forgive a multitude of creative-license sins than 21st century critics who thrive on exposing mistakes and posting them on the Internet.
With historically based plots that utilize gladiators, refugees, soldiers, peasant uprisings, shipwrecks, or anything else involving hordes of humanity, there’s no problem fabricating a few personas. It’s only when you try to add an extra astronaut or slip an additional wife into Henry the Eighth’s bed that you’re courting cinematic disaster.
RULE NO. 2: If the personalities of the key players in the history-making event can’t sustain a two-hour story on their own, it is either (1) a weak plot that should be abandoned or (2) the event itself needs to recede into the background of one of its secondary participants or a fictionalized character who could credibly have been present.
Since my client was determined to see this epic through to completion, I instructed him to draw up a list of those members of the expedition whose real lives would best lend themselves to a feature screenplay. In addition to the obvious trio of Lewis, Clark, and Sacagawea, he added Charbonneau (Sacagawea’s common-law husband), Jean Baptiste (their infant son) and York, Clark’s African American manservant to whom Clark repeatedly denied freedom until 1811. (My own contribution to the list was Seaman, Lewis’ black Newfoundland, who accompanied the party.)
Why make up phony lieutenants and Indian princesses, I reiterated, when he already had such a rich cast to draw from? Even the lesser known privates, boatmen and scouts — several of whom later went on to have wilderness adventures of their own — could provide a compelling perspective on what transpired during the long journey westward.
It was Sacagawea whom Wally finally deemed was not only the most enigmatic of the team, but the one whose unhappy personal life was mostly likely to resonate with modern viewers, especially females. Here, after all, was a woman who is one of history’s two most famous Native American heroines and yet no one can say with any certainty what exactly happened to her after the group’s return to St. Louis.
One faction claims that she died shortly after the expedition’s conclusion. Since Charbonneau by then had acquired several Indian “wives,” the death of any one of them could e
asily have been misconstrued and publicized as that of “Bird Woman,” the same young girl who accompanied the Corps of Discovery. Another faction, however — specifically, her own tribe — relates that she eventually returned to them, lived well into her 90s, and was buried wearing the Jefferson medallion around her neck which had been presented by no less than the president himself.
While we do know for fact that William Clark assumed the role of her young son’s legal guardian at her own request and was responsible for his schooling in Europe, this raises even more questions.
What would compel a devoted mother to give up that which was the most precious thing in the world to her?
Did she know that she was dying and wanted to ensure that her son would be well taken care of?
Was Charbonneau an abusive or distant father from whom she wanted to protect Jean Baptiste?
Was there an unrequited attraction between Sacagawea and Clark, complicated not only by the difference in ethnicity, but by their respective marriages to other people?
Was Jean Baptiste an unwelcome reminder of her association with Charbonneau whom she could easily live without?
Did she believe that her mixed-breed son would ultimately fare better in the white man’s environment than he would if she took him back to live among her own people?
Who’s really buried in Sacagawea’s grave? What if she related her adventures to another of Charbonneau’s female companions prior to her death, even going so far as to give away the Jefferson medallion as a gift? Pre-dating the Anna Anderson/Anastasia charade, could the woman who lived out her years as the well-traveled Sacagawea been, in fact, a pretender?
Reinvigorated by all of this mystique about the expedition’s only female, Wally embarked on his second draft.
EXT. – TEEPEES – DAY
There is much rejoicing in the tribe as they welcome the birth of a new baby girl.
RULE NO. 3: People are not born interesting. They only become interesting through age and experience. Don’t start your story at the beginning of their lives. Start it at the beginning of when their lives take on significant meaning to the rest of us.
By page 85 of Wally’s new and supposedly improved version, Sacagawea had yet to even meet her French trapper husband, much less encounter the two white explorers with whom her name would become inextricably linked throughout history.
“When, exactly, are you going to get to the expedition part?” I asked.
Unlike a novel where an author has the luxury of cradle-to-grave minutia, a screenplay demands that one’s lifespan either be sped up to the equivalent of dog-years (i.e., Braveheart or Amadeus) or focus on those traits or incidents which are directly illustrative of the character’s sense of self or purpose (i.e., Wilde or Jefferson in Paris).
While Sacagawea’s kidnapping as a child and subsequent enslavement by a rival tribe until her teens certainly had bearing on her world outlook, these don’t have to be spelled out in linear fashion in order for us to know who she is in 1804. For that matter, even her presence during the course of the journey isn’t going to hold our attention unless it promises to reveal something which we hadn’t already gleaned from elementary school history books.
RULE NO. 4: Make every word of dialogue count.
What should have been Wally’s third-time’s-the-charm attempt at recreating early 19th century history was still falling flat. Although he was now utilizing a bookend approach whereby Clark and Sacagawea are reunited a year after the expedition, their initial dialogue consisted mostly of “So how have you been? Fine, thanks, and you? Well, I’ve been pretty busy lately re-reading my journals. Would you like to see them? Oh yes, that would be nice…”
“Cut the chit-chat,” I advised Wally. “Open the film on a dark and stormy night in St. Louis.” A cloaked figure carrying a large bundle is anxiously searching the houses for a particular address. She finds it and knocks on the door. A moment later, Clark’s housekeeper informs him that he has a visitor, a “savage” woman who claims to know him. When he learns that this midnight caller is none other than Sacagawea, accompanied by her toddler son, he immediately invites her in.
With nary a word yet spoken between them, our curiosity is already aroused regarding their relationship.
Why is she out on such a stormy night?
Where is Charbonneau?
Where is Clark’s wife?
Why has she brought her child with her?
What were the circumstances under which they last parted?
What does she want from him now?
My client was enthused about this and excitedly continued the scenario with Clark sending his housekeeper next door to borrow some warm clothes from the neighbors.
Oddly — or perhaps just because Wally is a guy — the only loaner ensemble available was the latest, low-cut Parisian fashion and the requisite jewelry and hair combs. When Clark next sees her in the doorway of his study, Sacagawea has miraculously transformed into — “Catherine Zeta Jones would be good,” Wally opined. “What do you think?”
What I think is that I’m not paid nearly enough to read this stuff.
RULE NO. 5: Deliver what you promise and stay on message. If you start meandering, your audience will be led astray as well and get annoyed with you.
In Wally’s Catherine Zeta Jones opening, the implication can be drawn that this film will be a romance. “And maybe,” Wally optimistically envisioned, “her husband Michael could be talked into playing Clark…”
All right. We can go with the romance angle. Except that the first flashback after he tells her how beautiful she is makes a sudden splash into raging rapids, marauding bears, blood, gore, and dissension among the men about whether Jefferson is just sending them all on a wild goose chase to further his own ambitions.
Action.
Adventure.
Hot-headed politics.
Breathtaking scenery.
Native American mysticism.
Rivalry and fisticuffs.
Those sensuous, meaningful glances earlier exchanged in the doorway between Bird-Woman and the besotted William are now entirely forgotten as the Corps of Discovery grumbles its way westward and encounters hostile Indians, bad weather, poisonous snakes, and occasional documentary-style voice overs regarding their progress.
It’s one thing to keep an audience guessing where you’re going next. Flat-out confusing them by genre-switching is taboo. While history itself doesn’t neatly color within the lines, you — as the writer — are still obligated to do so. If your idea can’t be compartmentalized into a recognizable category that you can sustain for 90+ pages, you’re going to be scattered too far over the map to execute a cohesive story.
RULE NO. 6: Sometimes there’s a good reason why you can’t/shouldn’t/better not go home again.
I reminded Wally once again about the existence of The Far Horizons, the MacMurray/Heston film made back in 1955 and eventually reissued in video under the title The Untamed West. In 1997, Ken Burns literally retraced the footsteps of the famous expedition in a documentary narrated by Hal Holbrook. Other than that….
Wally interpreted the four-decade gap as the requisite validation that movie audiences were due for a reintroduction. I diplomatically proposed a different explanation: maybe this particular chapter of American history doesn’t really excite anyone. Unlike Wyatt Earp, George Armstrong Custer, Jesse James, Billy the Kid, Wild Bill Hickok, and Buffalo Bill Cody whose personas have been centerstage in 26-54 movies and scores more of cameos and documentaries, Lewis and Clark’s “star-power” sadly didn’t extend much beyond their return to Missouri.
That’s not to say they weren’t men of courage and historical merit. It just says that you don’t want to embark on a script that will keep begging the question, “Are we there yet?”
At the end of almost five months, Wally announced that he was terminating our relationship because he felt I didn’t like his script as much as he thought I should. “I’m going to find someone who’s more suppor
tive,” he said.
Could It Be a Movie Page 16
