The TV Showrunner's Roadmap

by Neil Landau

  One of the scenes I was really happy with is when Rick finds Carl (Chandler Riggs) sitting in a hayloftand he gives him a gun. He says, “I wish I had more to say, my dad was good like that.” You just get a whole sense of who this man’s father was. We know that Carl has lost his grandfather and that Rick is an inarticulate hero. And he gives him a gun which ends up being the gun that will kill Shane (Jon Bernthal). It’s a very underwritten scene, and if you look at how it’s filmed, we just set up a camera. Man enters frame and sits next to his son. Push in for a little coverage and get out. It’s very simple. On the page, when you read it, it might read a little flat, but then when it comes together, it plays, it’s right. I’m very careful not to overwrite, particularly on this show where things can get overwritten.

  NL: What’s the best thing about being a showrunner?

  GM: I have two answers. One, I realize how lucky I am and that I have a great giftin the sense that I get to do what I want and tell stories and work with talented writers and directors and that some studio puts up millions of dollars to make each episode. There are so many filmmakers and artists around the world trying to figure out how to do their art. I can’t take that for granted. I get to come to work every day and whatever I am passionate about will get made right now. And that’s very, very exciting. So I see being a showrunner as a gift. Last week, I went to Atlanta and I screened our season premiere for the cast and crew. Everybody cares so much about this show. Every part of the organization just loves The Walking Dead. And I’m the one person in the entire organization that gets to see everybody else do their best work. So I get to see the writer who’s excited about the fact that they found a great scene or they’ve got a great pitch. I get to see the casting agents excited because we got the perfect person. I get to see the director excited and the cameraman excited because he’s going to get the best take. And it goes all the way through special effects and the music. The composer, Bear McCreary, is fantastic. It goes all the way to this little studio at Warner Bros.—this little sound mixing room— and you walk in there and there are three guys and they say, “We just love this episode. It’s the best show we’ve worked on.” And they’re so excited. I’m the only person who gets to go through the whole process from inception to completion. That’s really special. That’s what’s unique about being a showrunner.

  Top Television Series by Structure

  Note

  1 In a sitcom, the epilogue is known as the “tag.”

  14

  Unify Storylines (Via Theme)

  Theme is a central idea expressed through action. It can add dimension and resonance. In episodic television, theme is the glue that holds multiple, and sometimes divergent, storylines together.

  Theme is what the story is really about. Not just a series of events, but some kind of underlying universal truth about life.

  Themes are always related to power—and sometimes that’s the power of the human spirit. Such themes include the following: can good triumph over evil? Can one person make a difference? Love conquers all; no man is an island; crime doesn’t pay. The list goes on…

  On a TV series, theme can be articulated by a character—through dialogue or V.O. or some other narrative device (such as Carrie Bradshaw’s magazine column). But, for me, theme works best as subtext on a subliminal level for the audience.

  I’ve been an avid TV watcher since I was a kid, but most shows just sort of washed over me; I didn’t watch TV analytically. I tuned in to escape my humdrum existence. I had many favorite shows, but if you asked me why one show was better than another, I couldn’t put my finger on it. The actors were always key. Like most people, I took the writing for granted, as if the actors were making up their own dialogue as they went along.

  The whole notion of a unifying theme didn’t really make sense for me until 1998, while I was watching an episode of E.R. The episode was titled “Stuck on You”—which was my clue as to how the disparate A, B, C, and D stories were going to coalesce.

  In the episode, Dr. Mark Greene (Anthony Edwards) rides with EMTs and treats a beating victim who turns out to be a sixteen-year-old gay male prostitute. He then helps the boy evade the police who have a warrant for his arrest; Lucy (Kellie Martin) has a crush on Dr. Carter (Noah Wylie), even though he’s harsh with her; two brothers come into the hospital glued together after a carpet cement accident and end up getting some of the E.R. staff stuck with them; and an elderly patient (played by Harvey Korman) comes in for his blood pressure appointment but doesn’t want to leave the nursing care of Nurse Carol Hathaway (Julianna Margulies) or the E.R. personnel because he’s so desperately lonely.

  So how do these strands of stories weave together into a cohesive theme? The title is the first clue: stuck on you. The male prostitute is lucky to discover he’s HIV negative, but goes back to his former self-destructive behavior. He’s stuck, even though he knows he’s putting himself in danger; Lucy is “stuck” on Carter even if he is dismissive of her; Nurse Hathaway is “stuck” with a patient who doesn’t want to leave; and the brothers are literally stuck together. Expanding on this idea is the larger truth that we are all stuck with each other, so we’d better take care of each other.

  In the episode “The Other Woman” from Mad Men, Pete Campbell (Vincent Kartheiser) asks Joan (Christina Hendricks) to sleep with a man in order to land an important account; Don Draper (John Hamm) doesn’t like the impact Megan’s (Jessica Paré) acting career will have on his life; and Peggy (Elisabeth Moss) is offered a job at a rival company as chief copywriter.

  Don lays out the theme as he pitches for the Jaguar account: “Oh, this car. This thing, gentlemen. What price would we pay? What behavior would we forgive?” There is a price for the things we want to attain. For Joan to become partner, she has to become a sexual bargaining chip; for Peggy to move on and up, she needs to leave the safe haven of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. For Don, Megan is no Betty (January Jones). Megan has her own dreams and is willing to pursue them.

  A subtheme could be the price that women pay in the workplace. Megan is stuck having to deal with success but only on Don’s terms. The final part of Don’s pitch is literally “At last: something beautiful you can truly own.” Men dominate women in this prefeminist society.

  Finally, how far will you go to get what you want? Which moral boundaries will you cross in the name of success?

  In the Homeland episode “Achilles’ Heel,” Brody (Damian Lewis) comes back to his wife Jessica (Morena Baccarin) after a week of having sex with Carrie (Claire Danes); Saul’s (Mandy Patinkin) relationship with his wife Mira (Sarita Choudhury) is crumbling; and Carrie looks to exploit a weakness in order to capture rogue former soldier and “turned” POW, Tom Walker (Chris Chalk).

  Once again, the theme of the show is hinted at in the title: everyone has an Achilles’ heel, a weakness, and it’s only a matter of figuring out what it is. For Saul, it’s his dedication to work. In the throes of losing his marriage, he still goes to the Agency when called. For Carrie, she realizes she may be lonely her whole life and her job will probably consume her. For Tom Walker, it’s his love of family that puts him at risk for getting caught; he phones his wife, not realizing the CIA is listening in and tracing the call. A minor theme is the theme of marriage, and how marriages last, or don’t based upon the weak spots in the relationship: failing to communicate, holding grudges, taking one another for granted, and having unrealistic expectations.

  In the penultimate episode of season 1 of The Americans entitled “The Oath,” duplicitous D.C. Russian Embassy worker Nina (Annet Mahendru) pledges her oath to the Motherland, but then has a crisis of faith and confesses her double-dealings to her Russian boss. Nina admits her affair with FBI agent Stan Beeman (Noah Emmerich)—ready to accept the harshest punishment for treason. She broke her oath and is prepared to accept the consequences. But she’s also smart and resourceful and offers her boss an enticing compromise: he can either kill her or allow her to continue her illicit relationship with S
tan—but now she’ll be working against Stan to atone for her sins.

  Meanwhile, at FBI counterterrorism headquarters, executive assistant Martha (Alison Wright) agrees to plant a recording device (bug) in her boss Gaad’s (Richard Thomas) office, but only after her lover “Clark” [alias of Phillip (Matthew Rhys)] agrees to tie the knot. Sure, Martha is suspicious of “Clark’s” motives, but she’s willing to do anything for the man she loves—as long as he’s willing to stand up in front of her parents and God and marry her. To make his side of the aisle look convincing, “Clark” invites his “mother” (actually his U.S. KGB contact playing the part) and “sister” (played by Philip’s current fake wife, Elizabeth [Keri Russell] to attend the small ceremony.

  Elizabeth has to watch her fake husband get into another fake marriage with a woman who thinks it’s real in order to forward the KGB espionage mission. It’s a funny, layered sequence of subtext because Martha has no idea what’s really happening, while Elizabeth realizes that she and Philip never had a wedding, real or otherwise—which leaves her feeling melancholy. And Martha marries “Clark” without knowing very much about him or his top-secret government work. Of course she assumes that “Clark” is working for the U.S. government and agrees to keep their marriage a secret indefinitely. Ironically, KGB spies Philip and Elizabeth were never officially married, but their effectiveness as sleeper agents is dependent upon everyone believing that they are married.

  But though Elizabeth suggests to Philip, in a conciliatory tone, that things might have gone very differently for them if they had said their wedding vows, “The Oath” reinforces the thematic that commitment without follow-through is meaningless, as actions speak louder than words.

  In the same episode, Viola (Tonye Patano), the Weinberger’s God-fearing maid, comes clean to the FBI that she planted a bug in the clock of their office.

  Sure enough, the title of “The Oath” played a large part in the theme, as the episode was bookended by characters literally reciting oaths. The theme is clearly about loyalty—about how loyalties to country, religion and marriage play out over time, especially when they intersect and conflict with each other—and, in those cases, which loyalty is more important?

  Sitcoms are not exempt from using theme. In the episode “The Kiss” of mockumentary/sitcom Modern Family, we follow three storylines that, you guessed it, deal with kisses and showing affection. Cameron (Eric Stonestreet) is upset that Mitchell (Jesse Tyler Ferguson) isn’t into public displays of affection; Claire (Julie Bowen) becomes overbearing when she finds out her daughter Alex (Ariel Winter) likes a boy. Haley (Sarah Hyland) pressures Alex to get her first kiss. While the Gloria (Sofia Vergara) and Jay (Ed O’Neill) storyline is more about Gloria’s Colombian heritage, and ends with Jay, known for withholding affection, bestowing a kiss on his son, Mitchell. Also, akin to Sex in the City, the voice-over at the end, in this case from Gloria, reinforces the theme.

  However, just as there are shows that use theme, there are shows that do not work according to one unifying theme. Breaking Bad doesn’t. Parenthood and Friday Night Lights have themes and motifs, but they don’t all line up symmetrically because not all the story lines match up so neatly.

  Revenge uses season-long themes identified by a subheading at the beginning of the season. The first season was from Confucius: “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” The series follows Emily Thorne (Emily VanCamp) in her quest for revenge against the Grayson clan, headed by Victoria (Madeleine Stowe) and Conrad (Henry Czerny). The theme is quite clear that while you may get revenge, you will harm yourself, too. And sure enough, throughout the series’ first season we watched as Emily whittled away her sense of morality—not caring about the collateral damage around her.

  The second season’s theme revolves around destiny, as shown by the sub-heading from Henri-Frédéric Amiel: “Destiny has two ways of crushing us … by refusing our wishes … and by fulfilling them.” It teases the question of whether Emily will be destroyed by the very knowledge she wants to gain.

  Great TV pilots tend to support a strong central theme—either explicitly or tacitly, articulated or inferred. Sometimes theme is deliberate on the part of the scriptwriter. And sometimes it’s not. Or maybe there are several themes at play within the same episode and it’s open to interpretation by the audience.

  Mad Men, in particular, is a series that often requires more than one viewing to fully extrapolate its rich subtext and complex themes. For me, the first viewing is to see where the characters and evolving plotlines are heading; the second viewing is a much closer reading of details and nuance, leading toward deeper meaning and discussion.

  After all is said and done, theme is a Rorschach test for each viewer, as our unique life experiences influence everything we see.

  Interview: Chip Johannessen

  Chip Johannessen Credits

  Best known for:

  Homeland (Executive Producer/Co-Executive Producer/Writer) 2011–2012

  Emmy Award Winner (Outstanding Drama Series) 2012

  WGA Award Winner (New Series) 2012

  WGA Award Nominated (Drama Series) 2012

  Golden Globe Winner (Best Drama) 2012

  Dexter (Executive Producer/Writer) 2010

  Emmy Nominated (Outstanding Drama Series) 2011

  WGA Award Nominated (Drama Series) 2011

  24 (Executive Producer/Co-Executive Producer/Consulting Producer/Writer) 2009–2010

  Dark Angel (Consulting Producer/Writer) 2000–2002

  Millennium (Executive Producer/Consulting Producer/Writer) 1996–1999

  Beverly Hills, 90210 (Co-Producer/Writer) 1992–1995

  NL: How do you approach constructing story? Do you start with plot, character, theme … how do you come at it?

  CJ: It depends a lot on the series. I came out of the Chris Carter [The X-Files] camp. That’s where I learned how to write and produce. And where I really learned the discipline of putting stories together. We did something there that a lot of shows say they do, but no one really does: which is that we made little movies every week. In that case, what we needed was an idea that was enough to sustain forty-four minutes of television. But the really good episodes had ideas big enough to sustain a feature-length film. They obviously tended to be sci-fi kinds of stories, which meant that they were already a little writerly. They were pushing an idea.

  In terms of having thematic structures, those stories were a lot more open to it. For example, I did a story with Millennium that had to do with gifts. There was this sort of karmic cycling, and it had a theme of gifts in it. There’s this book by Marcel Mauss about gifts, and how gifts flow through society … and that theme showed up in a lot of the construction of the story. But those episodes were all stand-alone.

  And since then, with Homeland and Dexter, we’ve been doing stuff that’s serialized, so it’s a whole different ballgame the way you construct stories. One thing we’re trying to do on Homeland—which is different than what we did on 24—is to construct stories that, even though they’re serialized, have a slight stand-alone component. Each episode looks and feels different, so you really don’t know what you’re going to get week to week. We’re doing that in a way to distance ourselves from 24 a little, which became a pretty homogenous wash of stuff. In both of these shows, what we’re looking for is some kind of character-driven story that also fits the flow of the whole season. At Homeland, we’re trying to do all this while also maintaining a high degree of verisimilitude, a general feeling that it’s actually real. One way to do this, and this comes out of 24, is to embrace a lack of writerly devices. A lack, for example, of putting themes into things. If you want something that looks and feels real, throw out the writerly devices.

  NL: And yet, in one of your excellent episodes of Homeland, titled “Achilles’ Heel,” theme is so prevalent. Was that subconscious or the exception to the rule for you?

  CJ: Actually, I struggled with that when writing that episode because we do no
t ascribe to themes in episodes. In 24, we had a mantra about that: “We don’t do themes.” We just don’t do the kind of stuff that is the writer injecting his opinion into things. That’s not to say that we don’t have ideas that we push, but we try very much to have things feel real, especially on Homeland. So we shoot it that way, we write it that way, and we think about dialogue like that. We just don’t put these writerly constructions in.

  NL: Although I have to say in that “Achilles’ Heel” episode, each character was struggling with a specific weakness, which seemed to track through the whole episode thematically—and beautifully, in my humble opinion.

  CJ: Thanks. And you’re right. And that theme even made it into text. Saul [Mandy Patinkin] actually says in dialogue that his work, his willingness to sacrifice everything else for it, that that’s his Achilles’ heel. But I really don’t tend to like to do that sort of thing. It’s too writerly. It feels phony to me. On these serialized shows it’s like “what is the story?” It’s all about that.

  NL: So for you, it’s first and foremost about figuring out the basic arcs of the stories and the relationships?

  CJ: Yes. There was a big thing in Chris Carter Land about the science of storytelling, and endlessly just looking at all your cards and talking it through with everybody, and making sure it really hung together. Much more than an artsy exploration of human behavior and you alone in a room. It’s really not like that. I’m more interested in human behavior set against a bigger event.