Allan Dwan — Scenario Writing from the Director’s Viewpoint (1918) 🇺🇸
A thing that has often come to my attention in reading scenarios, is the absolute lack of attractive style of expression by the author. He has been so prone to convey the plot that he adopts a method of shorthand expression, which robs the tale he is telling of all of its literary and heart appeal.
by Allan Dwan
Director for Douglas Fairbanks Sr.
As an example, phrases like this appear, “Nelly goes to room — gets paper — returns to parlor — shows paper to Bob — business of amazement,” and so on. The author expects the director or reader to catch the thrill that he experienced when writing, but he fails to express on paper. Of course, the thrill remains as a memory with the writer, and when his script is returned as undesirable he is highly indignant because he has probably only that day witnessed a less appealing story on the screen, and naturally feels himself a victim of injustice in having been refused production.
The reason that the story he witnessed that afternoon gained presentation, was because the story was conveyed to the producer in such a way that the pathos and sincerity of the story were conveyed to the producer, either by the author or by the reader.
The reason so many stories are written by staff members of companies is, that a staff member is able to convey verbally, with all the emphasis necessary, the true values of his story to the director. He may even pound the table and declaim like an orator to make his enthusiasm contagious — and often he does that.
I would suggest that every scenario writer study an interesting style of expression; that he write his story as fervently as possible and make his subtitles attractive, if he undertakes writing a detailed scenario, both from a literary standpoint and from the standpoint of style of expression.
They say that “brevity is the soul of wit,” but just as truly too much brevity is frequently the death knell of a scenario. Personally, I am averse to scene plots written by scenario writers, and much prefer a detailed synopsis written in short-story form. I would rather purchase a story from any good current magazine, than the average scenario, because from the lines of the magazine I get the full meaning and feeling of the author, whereas scenarios are frequently as mechanical and as lacking in style as the catalogue of an automobile company.
Do not misunderstand me, and think that I am declaring that style is more important than characterization or plot. What I wish now to emphasize is, that style and expression are necessary for the proper conveyance of character and plot. It would be a wise thing for all scenario writers to study the method employed by the literary masters in describing a character, and to try to adopt a similar individual method that will convey to the reader an accurate mental picture of the principal character.
The subtitle itself is worth volumes of discussion, but for the moment it is sufficient to say that clever subtitles are likely to bring a sale for a scenario, regardless of the subject-matter of the scenario. Subtitles come under the head of editing, rather than authorship, because the subtitles of a story are not inserted until the film is completed. During the process of cutting and joining the position of the subtitles becomes manifested. A clever phrase, whether it be a subject or a narrative phrase, inserted at exactly the right place, frequently determines the comedy value or the dramatic value of a situation.
If an author can arouse the director’s imagination or interest with a group of words he is very apt to increase his own bank roll considerably.
A recent experience to convey my point: One of our current productions starring Douglas Fairbanks is entitled, “A Modern Musketeer.” It is enjoying success because of the admirable spirit of the character played by Mr. Fairbanks. That entire production was inspired by the original title of a story written by E. P. Lyle, junior, D’Artagnan of Kansas. The association of the famous Dumas character with the flat plains of Kansas aroused my imagination sufficiently to cause me to purchase the title from Mr. Lyle and write the story of a “modern musketeer.”
Another point which is apropos of this discussion: Clever scenarios cannot be written rapidly, and if a story is worth telling at all, it is worth a little time in the telling. Too many scenario writers are prone to dash off ideas at the rate of six or seven a week, and no man living can do justice to more than one a month. It is the unusual scenario writer that can hit the bull’s-eye once a year.
The process of analysis in use by the average author is not sufficient. If you have an idea to convey that you thing would make a good motion picture, write it down. Then analyze it thoroughly. Test cut every point from a basis of logic. Analyze every character thoroughly to see if it has a false note. Then take your entire manuscript and rewrite it. This time try to make it attractive reading, your mechanics having been perfected. Then turn it over to some fair-minded member of your family or friend whose opinion you consider worth while — not necessarily to a literary person, because our appeal is not to literary people, but to the more normal-minded and less emotional type — and see if your entire idea is conveyed. If it is necessary for you to explain a great deal of your story, your method of conveying your play has been bad, and you should set to work to rewrite it again and try it out on some one else, until the whole spirit of your story strikes the heart and mind of your reader. Then, if you submit that work, you have a fair chance at least of having the scenario reader of a film company grasp your full idea.
As I look at it, a scenario that is worth less than two hundred and fifty dollars is not worth writing, and a scenario that is worth two hundred and fifty dollars or more is worth a lot of time and effort. Any story-teller who has the real gift, and who will put his whole heart and effort and soul into the conveying of a story for the reading of a scenario editor, will eventually reach a market price well up in the thousands. Good scenarios are extremely scarce, not because good ideas are extremely scarce, but because so few people know how to attractively express on paper their ideas.
To glean success, it is necessary to work hard. Anything worth doing at all, is worth doing well. A scenario written in an hour cannot possibly be any good. A scenario written in a day is very likely to be unintelligent. A scenario pored over for a week probably will contain fewer flaws than most scenarios, and the one that has the constant attention of the author for a month or more is likely to be fairly good.
In my personal experience with some of the highest-paid scenarioists in the world, I find that the best of them are able to do not more than from four to five stories a year. I would not advise the amateur writer to rely upon his sale of manuscripts for a living, any more than I would advise the amateur painter to rely upon the sale of his paintings for a living. And the masterpiece of scenario writing can only be attained by the same diligence and effort that the masterpiece of the painter is done, or the playwright, or the novelist.
If you want to win, you have got to work. If you want to sell your goods, you must make them attractive.
Two Movie Celebrities Adopt a New Trade
Thomas H. Ince and Bill Hart [William S. Hart] are now honorary members, in good standing, of the painters’ union. They joined not long ago, when it was suggested that they paint the first set made in the Biograph Studio after Ince leased it. We’ll wager that the regular painters had some job when Ince and Bill got through daubing.
Collection: Picture Play Magazine, May 1918