When a painter wants to capture an image on canvas from a photograph, he typically will divide the picture into quadrants in order to focus on the detail and maintain proper proportions. Filmmakers do something similar by dividing their story into 8 sections.

The question most often asked is “why 8?” when the story is based on a three-act structure. The answer comes from history. In the early days of the cinema, 20-minute reels were delivered to theaters with about 15 minutes worth of film on each reel. When the reel was played, a little dot in the top right corner of the film would appear toward the end of the reel to notify the projectionist it was time to switch to the next reel on a second projector, giving the audience a seamless uninterrupted experience.

The camera manufacturers built their equipment with 20-minute reels knowing the cinematographer would get about 15 minutes of story out of each reel. When television came along, the 15-minute standard was adopted and videotape was designed for about 15 minutes of programming on a 20-minute reel or cassette.

Directors and editors found themselves constantly working in 15-minute increments in order to tell their story, so they quickly adapted to the standard and learned how to tell stories incrementally through a series of sequences. Even television directors got on the bandwagon and tried to heighten the last scene on every reel to keep the audience riveted in hopes that they would continue watching after the commercials.

The typical 2-hour movie is therefore made up of 8 sections of 15 minutes each. Since dramatic screenplays are written in a way that one page equates to one minute of screen time, the average 2-hour movie is 110 pages in length. There is also an average of one scene per minute of screen time, which gives the screenwriter 12-15 scenes per sequence in order to tell the action plotline. A mixture of shorter scenes and sequences gives enough room to salt in an additional subplot or two.

Act 1 is comprised of two sequences. Act 2 is divided at the midpoint creating two sequences in Act 2A and two sequences in Act 2B. And, Act 3 is also made up of two sequences. In between each Act is a turning point that sends the main character in a different direction than expected, which catapults the viewer into the next segment of the story.

I recently wrote a coming of age story titled, “The Tree Jumper.” It’s about Jeremy, who is a geeky X-game enthusiast who falls in love with the head football cheerleader, Brianna. He struggles to understand the unconditional love that his blind grandmother teaches him that Brianna deserves, compared to the conditional love she receives from her quarterback and football MVP boyfriend.

Here is how the story unfolds in 8 major sequences:

S1: Jeremy uses his X-gaming skills to “soar” anonymously through the trees to save the MVP’s life during the football team’s team building rafting disaster.

S2: Jeremy becomes infatuated with Brianna and encourages her to enjoy “flying” in her cheerleading maneuvers, rather than being confined to the bottom of the pyramid by her fears.

S3: Jeremy learns that Brianna is dating the MVP and awkwardly tries to learn what it takes to court a girl so he can say and do the right things to win Brianna’s love away from her uncaring boyfriend.

S4: Chloe adores Jeremy so much that she agrees to help him win Brianna based on who he is, not old customs from days gone by.

S5: Jeremy becomes confident enough that he shares his love for Brianna publicly and brings the wrath of the MVP down on himself.

S6: The MVP and key players from his football team go out of their way to stop Jeremy from winning Brianna.

S7: Jeremy realizes that true unconditional love would free Brianna to choose whomever she desires to love and would honor her choice. He walks away so the MVP can continue his relationship with her.

S8: The MVP takes Brianna on a joy ride to help her break her fear of heights in his family Cessna and crashes in the trees hanging precariously over the gorge just out of the fire department’s reach. Only Jeremy, the tree jumper, can get to the plane and saves both Brianna and the MVP. Brianna has a blast “soaring” through the trees to safety and realizes that Jeremy’s love for her isn’t conditional like the MVP’s.

Each sequence breaks the story into manageable bites and is structured to fit the new 8-segment format for a movie of the week. It also establishes the proper parameters and durations for the three-act structure that feature films use. All because someone delivered 15 minutes worth of film on a 20-minute reel just shy of a hundred years ago.

Copyright © 2012 By CJ Powers

No matter what camp of writers you follow or attempt to emulate, all know that the opening scene in a feature film must be attention getting and set the tone for the audience. If it can also introduce the main character, you’re one step ahead, but the second scene is sufficient for an introduction.

Big box office screenwriters prefer to leave the main character’s introduction for a subsequent scene and focus on what some call the First Strike. Some great examples include J. J. Abram’s Star Trek reboot, which opens with an attack from a future century Nero who changes the course of history for Kirk and Spock. Typically in the James Bond franchise, the films open with a special 007 mission with cool effects and explosions that aren’t necessarily related to the story.

In the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the opening is of a man who receives a dried flower that causes him such great turmoil, he must do something different to bring an end to his pain. This scene doesn’t qualify as a First Strike, but rather an emotionally charged atmosphere, although some might argue that his misunderstanding of who is sending the dried flowers could be construed as a First Strike. The challenge for the screenwriter was in making the first scene a clear setup for an investigative thriller.

The screenwriter’s goal is to make sure he raises a question in the first scene that gives the audience a desire to find the answer as they watch the movie. This technique would be dressed in accordance with the story’s theme or genre. The audience expects to be taken to a place they’ve never been before, or experience something they haven’t seen.

If the main character is introduced in the scene, the audience expects to learn something special about the hero or what his typical day looks like. They desire to experience something with him that is either humorous, touching or formulated as a crisis – A shared emotion.

These techniques are designed to hook the audience into watching the entire movie and without it, the audience won’t suspend disbelief and enter the screenwriter’s world. It’s therefore important that the screenwriter touches on all the senses by addressing the following elements:

1. Location
2. Time
3. Mood
4. Tone
5. Style
6. Intent
7. Atmosphere

These important elements, coupled with raising the key universal question that drives the audience to seek the answer, will entertain and hook the audience long enough for the screenwriter to get through the needed backstory. It will also give the audience the confidence that they are watching a film worth their time.

Copyright © 2012 By CJ Powers
Photo © GIS – Fotolia.com

I recently saw that a film festival was offering directing classes to its attending filmmakers. Directing is one of the positions on a production team that few people really understand. Many books have been written on the subject, but few address what really happens between the director and his actors.

The best way to understand directing is for me to put it in relationship terms. The actor, who is exposing great vulnerability during each shot, needs comfort and confidence from the director. She needs to understand and trust that he will protect her performance and make sure it is not bad.

To accomplish this one element of directing, he can call on a couple dozen techniques. The three most common are:

1. Say something to the actor before and after every take.
The actor is unable to see herself or know how to feel about her performance until she takes her cue from the director. He must give her some form of honest feedback. If she did a poor job, then he needs to carefully explain that what “he” attempted in that shot didn’t work and mention that he’d like to try something a bit different. Actors are used to performing variations, so this response would be acceptable.

2. Don’t ask the actor to repeat what she just did.
If the director tells the actor to redo what she just did, she won’t know what he is referring to. Actors do movement, exude emotions, speak dialog, and about a couple dozen other things that spring from the moment, their history, and listening carefully to the other actors. Instead, the director must affirm the previous performance and suggest some action verbs that might help draw out additional emotions or visuals.

3. Give the actor permission to do business.
If the timing is a bit off with the actor’s interaction with a prop or form of touch involving other actors, telling the actor to do something earlier pushes the actor out of the character and into a robotic nightmare. Instead of saying, “pick up the mirror earlier,” the director should affirm the moment and state, “It’s okay, if you feel led to pick up the hand mirror a bit earlier.” This direction keeps the focus on the character and not the prop.

When the actor is allowed to create their character and are continually managed with the above techniques, they are free to be more creative and find a performance that is unique and screen worthy. In fact, the once vulnerable actor might receive a film festival award for best acting, with few people knowing that it was the director who made sure her award winning performance made it to the screen with confidence.

The best part of directing well is the relationship built between the actor and director during the shoot. Both will be keeping a look out for another story worth their collaboration.

Copyright © 2012 By CJ Powers
Photo © T.Tulic – Fotolia.com