Plotting along

According to Aristotle, the ability to plot is the most important aspect of writing–even more important than the characters themselves. Michael Tierno, author of Aristotle’s Poetics for Screenwriters (one of my favorite books) says, “Good writers serve their stories; bad writers serve their own agendas.” When writing, I think this quote should be planted in front of our eyes at all times. Within the structure of plot, we should seek to convey truth through the human condition. So, your plot must have a single issue, or as Tierno puts it, “one unified action.”  He uses The Godfather as a perfect example of this.  It’s easy to think that there are numerous plots weaving this story together, but that is not the case.  The single issue in The Godfather is the war against the Corleones.  Everything else evolves because of that single action event.

Greek scholars translated Aristotle’s ”Mythos” as plot.  We get the word “mythology” from mythos, and it’s defined as a story, legend, tale, folklore, fable, etc.  Without the plot, we only have characters, scenarios and language, but no story.  Aristotle understood plot, and so did other great writers throughout history.  Writers like: Homer, Shakespeare, Dante, and Geoffrey Chaucer, and Ovid, to name a few.  There is a reason their works have stood the test of time. Writers who understand the importance of creating stories that cause the reader or viewer to respond in an emotional way will create a winning story. Carl Jung said, “They touch the common experiences of life and death that humans undergo.” Sigmund Freud said, “They mirror our neuroses and help to resolve them.”  A screenwriter, who understands the power of myth and can recreate these stories in a fresh and present way, will scribe a successful story.

Plot is the framework where the story unfolds, but it is not the story itself. Story is what happens; plot is how those events unfold.

It is much like a seamstress who begins making a piece of clothing with a pattern.  The pattern is raw. Without it, the dressmaker cannot sew a single stitch; it is the framework for the dress. So the plot evolves one point at a time. Good plots move chronologically.  This is part of the reason that using flashbacks can be tricky.  Normally, a film that is written in chronological order works better, but (of course) there’s always the exception to that rule. Citizen Kane and Pulp Fiction are great examples of the exception. The only reason for writing a non-chronological plot is to reveal something about the character that will be better disclosed if not told in a chronological order. That being said, Aristotle, Horace and many other ancient writers advised to begin in medias res, “in the middle of things.” This is an ancient literary technique for manipulating the plot. It’s like hitting the reader or viewer between the eyes with a big club! In other words, begin the story near the heart of the problem. This device was used in films like: Sunset Boulevard, Fight Club and Hangover, and while this technique certainly served these plots well, BE CAREFUL. If you decide to use medias res, you need to understand its function and limitations, and for a novice screenwriter, I would avoid opening that door.

Never forget that plot is connected to action. Michael Tierno calls it the “Action-Idea,” or “mission statement.” So, when we are developing our plot, we must ask ourselves “if” it is an “Action-Idea.”  For example, say I want to write a screenplay about a love. That is not an “Action-Idea.” We have to look a little deeper.  Since plot and action are connected, how can we change this idea, to reveal a sequence of actions that have a beginning, middle and end? If I create a plot that involves the protagonist overcoming the obstacles to love that keeps him or her from engaging in “true” love, that is a great “Action-Idea.” I can then build central conflict; develop the character and other underlying themes in the story.

What about a quest-driven plot?  Raiders of the Lost Ark is a perfect example of this. A plot that is built around a quest always involves the protagonist’s search for a person, place or thing, and that can be tangible or intangible. In Raiders of the Lost Ark, Professor Indiana Jones ventures into the jungles of South America searching for a golden statue. From the moment his search begins, conflict arises with every deadly trap that comes his way. The plot thickens when museum curator, Marcus Brody, who tells Jones about a biblical artifact called, “The Ark of the Covenant,” contacts Jones. This artifact holds the key to human existence, and finding it comes with a price.  Jones is on the journey of a lifetime as he finds himself in remote places like: Nepal and Egypt, while fighting against Nazi enemies and antagonist, Renee Bellog.

Different plots will result in different paths, but if a plot is properly created, there will always be a chain of events that follows (cause and effect). In the end, a well-crafted plot will drive the story forward with action, and define and enhance the protagonist’s journey.  After all, at the end of the day, all good stories reveal a journey.

The “Journey” is More Than a Road Trip in Thelma & Louise

In every successful story, the journey is what helps transform the protagonist.  In Callie Khouri’s screenplay, Thelma & Louise (1991), the writer uses a road-trip to birth the two main characters call to adventure; an adventure that takes them out of all things familiar, into a world of monumental change.

The opening scene is revelatory, and Khouri’s uses juxtaposition to highlight the differences between the two main characters, THELMA and LOUISE, while setting up the premise for the story.  Louise is a meticulously groomed very attractive waitress in her early thirties who still works in a coffee shop, and Thelma is married, un-kept, untidy and in a dysfunctional, non-communicative relationship.  In fact, she was supposed to tell her husband DARRYL about the planned “weekend away,” but when he tells her he may not be home because it is Friday night, she opts to not share her plans and just go on the trip.  When he walks out the door for work, she says, “He’s gonna shit” (4).

Both of these women need to get away from the monotony of everyday life, and especially since everyday life does not seem to be very exciting or promising.   It is easy to picture their excitement, when they finally pack up Louise’s “66-T Bird convertible,”  and it is a good thing Thelma packs things like a gun and lantern, props that give the audience the idea that this trip might have some unexpected turns.

The first unexpected road trip happens about an hour before the ladies reach their destination.  Thelma is hungry, and Louise just wants to get to the cabin, but Thelma pleads her case when she says, “I never get to do stuff like this.”  The truth is, Thelma is bound by a loveless, boring marriage (great material for conflict within the character), with a husband who is most-likely unfaithful and very expectant.  There is no passion or excitement in Thelma’s life.  I’d like to add that her lack of zing creates a “need” for something more.  So, when these zany women stop off at THE SILVER BULLET, we see the beginning of Thelma’s exodus from her boring, old life.  To Louise’s surprise, she orders a “Wild Turkey, straight up, and a Coke back.” When Louise shows her surprise, Thelma’s response is very revealing.  She has had it “up to her ass” with placid living and is “letting her hair down.” Bottom line, there’s a huge shift happening, and Thelma is pulling Louise into the make-over.  Louise orders a margarita with a shot of Cuervo on the side.  In the meantime, while bantering about their problems on the home-front, the flirty HARLAN enters the scene.

The ladies opposite personalities shine through even in the midst of their fun-filled drinking adventures.  Louise is uneasy and Thelma is engaging.  It’s no surprise when later Harlan tries to rape Thelma in the back of the parking lot. OOPS, murder will always add some conflict to a plot.  Everything in their worlds shift, and it becomes clear that Thelma and Louise are on a very different journey.  The string of incidents that take place at the Silver Bullet demand ACTION, and create the NEED for change!  The dysfunctional, ordinary world that they knew will never be the same.  In fact, when the two women stop at a truck stop at 4 a.m., and Louise is trying to figure out their next move, Thelma is enjoying herself to the hilt!  “Ur next move?  I’ll say one thing, Louise.  This is some vacation.  I sure am having a good time.  This is real fun.”  lol

Of course, Harlan’s murder is the catalyst that not only births change, but it is used to dramatically shift the way these two ladies respond to life.  Thelma, especially, is embracing her new-found freedom and asserting herself without hesitation.  Hence, the entrance of J.D., the hitchhiker who Thelma wants to take home because he has a “cute butt.”  J.D. is not a normal guy though.  He’s an ex-con who robs the women, which in turn sets up the scene for Thelma to rob a store.  These two are in for the ride of their lives.  First murder and now a robbery’s been thrown into the mix!  And the conflict on their road to discovery only continues…

The robbery was taped.  What began as a joy ride for a weekend of freedom becomes a crazy crime-laden odyssey alternating between drunken hilarity, the reality of their plight, and empowerment.  Thelma and Louise choose to never return to anything that resembles their former lives (guess they’re not returning home anytime soon).  Their empowerment leads both of them into a very unexpected finale–a double suicide.  With an army of police behind them, police helicopters above them, and the Grand Canyon in front of them (yes, their boxed in), there is only one choice that will guarantee freedom.

Death is an odd kind of freedom, but the brilliance of the screenplay really does lie in the transition that takes place on this road trip; indeed, it’s a road trip of a lifetime.  Their journey is all about self-discovery in a way that would have never happened if they had stayed at home (it’s simply wonderful writing). Through these series of unexpected incidents, the author creates a premise for CHANGE (every hero must change), and even through these fallen heroes are criminals, they are fully realized–enlightened and free to choose death over confinement.  After all, they’ve already had a taste of imprisonment.

The Element of Structure in How Plays Work: It Is All About Time

The shape or structure of a play is equal to the story, and without the organization of the narrative into space and time, the meaning will be lost.  In David Edgar’s book, How Plays Work, he insightfully addresses the importance of structure and reveals why the plot is expressed through two structural categories:  Plays that are written in linear time and those who disrupt it.  While Edgar does not shift away from Aristotle’s belief that plot is paramount, and it must be composed of a beginning, middle and end, he does relay some varied approaches with the utilization of time and space in a refreshing and insightful way.

Plays that are written in linear time do not necessarily mean that the writer is progressing from one action to another in a sequence of organized steps.  Edgar uses Oedipus as a great example of a story that uses non-chronological order, but “covers.”  According to Edgar, “Oedipus is an example of a play that is structured in real time.  His stage action is “linear.”  History emerges in bits and pieces as Oedipus discovers his identity and crimes, and all of this is revealed in non-chronological order.  For example, the beginning of the play, Oedipus, the king of Thebes wants to know how to end the plague that has come upon Thebes.  He is looking for a cure and sends his brother-in-law, Creon to the House of Apollo for some answers.  There is light at the end of the tunnel (or so it seems)!  Once the killer of the previous king, Laius, is found, the plague will be lifted.  Oedipus is on a mission to find the murderer and banish him forever.  “ Whoever among you knows the man wit was who murdered Laius, son of Labdacus, I order him to reveal it all to me.  And if the murderer’s afraid, I tell him to avoid the danger of the major charge by speaking out against himself.”

Irony plays a huge roll here, for the murder is Oedipus himself.  So, chronologically the murder has already happened, but Sophocles creates conflict by revealing Oedipus’ identity after the audience has already been made aware that he is the assassin.

By writing non-chronologically the author reveals present information in a powerful and objective way.  When writing s linear, a story will begin at point A and follow a time-progression that will take the characters to point B.  Edgar says, “There are plays which operate in a single time but move from place to place, with only the necessary movement of characters from A to B interrupting the continuous flow.”  Some plays operate in a single time cycle and only in one place, and this enlarges Aristotle’s ruling about time and place by increasing the play’s time beyond real time.  In other words, the time is both “defined” and “confined,” as in an evening or a single day.

It was very interesting to find that Arthur Miller’s original title for his famed play Death of a Salesman was, The Inside of His Head.  Taking into account the definition of “disrupted time,” which Edgar claims, “Is most developed in cinema,” and knowing that the plays action revolves around the protagonist (Willy Loman) sorting out so many unfulfilled dreams and failed realities, makes perfect sense.

Miller has taken a cinematic device and reminted it to demonstrate how it is not the past but our memory that informs our actions in the hear-and-now.  By making his ‘flashbacks’ a dramatization of a character’s present thought processes, Miller has made his mechanism authorially invisible as it’s possible for a non-naturalistic device to be.”

It is easy to see why non-linear structural forms work so well in screenplays.  The use of flashbacks, non-linear narratives, multiple shots, backwards and forwards, etc., all break away from the chronological three-act structure.  According to Edgar, “Cinema’s appropriation of the flashback from the novel gave twentieth-century theatre a whole new structural répertoire.”  Plays (screenplays) with disrupted time, where events happen in a non-chronological order utilize effects like flashbacks and backwards and forwards.  A wonderful example of the use of flashbacks is seen in the film, Groundhog Day.

Since no one component alone builds a story, the utilization of open and closed structural elements that deal with time and space can broaden a writer’s options and bring greater depth to a story.  Edgar points out that there are some difficulties with real time.  One of those challenges is that, “You can’t avoid the naturalistic inconveniences of real life.”  By stretching time and place—“changing locations within or around a house or even a town reduces the impact of small changes in a single set, but opens up much greater opportunities for the setting to communicate meaning.”  This kind of structural format actually gets the audience to get involved.  They are able to examine the possibility of alternative plots.  “Moving some or all of the characters into a dramatically different environment and then moving them back again in the structural strategy most connected to a particular genre.”

While rudimentary guidelines still exist for the playwright and screenwriter, there is a lot more variance today.  The one-hero, three-act linear structure appears to be under revision.  Elements of structure have expanded, and what was once taboo, like:  flashbacks, backwards and forwards, non-linear narratives, multiple shots, etc. has disrupted the apple cart and given writers more creative options.

Staged debauchery: Luhrmann’s three-ring circus on the screen

There’s no doubt that writing a screenplay adaptation of a literary masterpiece is a challenge that few can successfully meet.  Let me begin this by saying, even though Zack Luhrmann is not the first writer to try and bring Scott Fitzgerald’s brilliant literary classic, The Great Gatsby to life on the screen, he gave it a decent and somewhat impressive attempt. In typical Luhrmann style, he gives the classic story a modern spin, and while it is somewhat entertaining, it does not always translate well.  In addition, I think anyone who is a fan of the novel, is going to be disappointed with Luhrmann’s reworking of the story.

Somewhere amidst the overproduced, 3-D jazz-age extravaganza, it is easy to become weary with the incessant parading of bobbles, bangles and beads, unremitting decadence, and the brash circus of visual effects. Luhrmann sticks closely to Fitzgerald’s storyline, with the exception of the beginning, where Nick Carraway, the author’s proxy checks into a psychiatric clinic to deal with his alcoholism, anger, fear, rage, despondency, depression and a list of emotional responses that are reflective of his disappointment with life as he knows it.  Even so, Luhrmann’s interpretation of  Fitzgerald’s parallel worlds where he reveals not just the theme of hindered young love between a man and woman (Daisy and Gatsby), but the ultimate out-of-control corruption of the American dream, leaving gallant morality behind is inadequately translated. Admittedly, Luhrmann captures “the parties,” and obsession with extreme excess perfectly, however…

If visual impression and panache are the measure by which we rate a good film, then I suspect Luhrmann would rank a bit higher for the effort, for his over-the-top cinematic production, with the elaborate costumes and sets define the word “excessive.” However, given the fact that much of this film takes place in and out of excess, it becomes somewhat distracting, and certainly is a far cry from a story set in the 1920’s.  One of the things that Luhrmann does have going for him is that this kind of gaudy excess is precisely how Fitzgerald describes the decadence and moral corruption of that era.

In all fairness, I think this story is difficult to translate over to film.  Why have all of these adaptations flopped? The novel is genius—there is no doubt about that, but there are problems with this newest version of The Great Gatsby.  The actors are certainly well suited, and especially Leonardo DiCaprio.  He did a wonderful job of portraying the heartsick, obsessively intent, mysterious Jay Gatsby.

In the novel, Fitzgerald purposefully delays letting the reader know the “real” story behind Gatsby’s wealth, and why he weekly throws opulent parties at his mansion.  In fact, it is the mystery itself about Gatsby’s wealth and his life that drives the plot forward in the novel.  Luhrmann reveals some of Gatsby’s secrets early on, which tends to take the suspense away, and leaves the audience feeling like we’re attending one reckless, obscene, indulgent event after another.

Another ongoing issue in the film is that Luhrmann has characters “explaining” the action instead of “showing” us the action, i.e., like Carraway explaining to the audience the history and reasons behind Gatsby’s motivation.  You see, in a novel, using exposition to unveil history and a character’s past is paramount, but it is something that should never be done in a film.  Perhaps the fact that The Great Gatsby covers numerous weighty and complex ideas makes it difficult to adequately capture in a two-hour film.  By the end of this film, I felt exhausted and unsatisfied.  The heart of the story itself is somehow lost among the rubble of overproduced excess. It is ridiculously ironic, since the novel addresses the corruption of the American dream, by comparing and contrasting newly fortuned millionaires of the 1920’s against old aristocracy. Fitzgerald is very intent on revealing the ostentatious, gaudy, crude lifestyles of the newly rich as being socially and morally repugnant.  Daisy (Carey Mulligan) and Tom (Joel Edgerton) Buchanan represent pieces of the old aristocracy, and this is not emphasized in Luhrmann’s adaptation.  Because the emphasis is lost, the audience only gets tidbits of those important details that should amalgamate the characters to the plot and ultimately drive the plot forward.

So, once again, it’s not the choice of actors, they were fine…It’s the script and the way it was directed. There’s a lot of flash, but no real depth—the audience is left feeling hung-over from the 2-hour debauchery and three-ring circus held at the great Gatsby’s “castle.”

Warner Bros. / YouTube screencap

Reviewing the situation: plot problems and a contrived ending

I went with a friend to see The Big Wedding this weekend, and much to my surprise and disappointment, the screenplay didn’t deliver.  I was even more surprised, given the all-star cast led by Robert De Niro, Diane Keaton, Susan Sarandon, Robin Williams and Katherine Heigl. I mean, common… Really?

So, what went wrong?

You know something’s going on when in the first 20 minutes of a comedy, no one is laughing out loud.  I remembering saying to myself, “Gee, the premise seemed funny, but no one is laughing, beginning with me!”  Worse still, when a comedian like Robin Williams has difficulty getting an audience to laugh, something is definitely amiss.

Let’s go straight for the juggler– the plot didn’t deliver.  It had problems.  There was a lack of focus; perhaps some misplaced emphasis on elements that really weren’t important; perhaps a part of trying to get a laugh, only it wasn’t working.  It’s not really good when an audience is “trying” to figure out the theme and make sense of the plot, which was a continuous issue while watching this film–there was just too much going on!

Can there be too much conflict?

Conflict births action, so in and of itself–conflict is a much needed element in a story.  However, though you can’t really have too much conflict, you can have too many conflicts, and that was an issue in The Big Wedding.  In fact, the story is basically conflict-driven, but without focus.  It felt like I was at a smorgasbord, being dished a combination plate of Meet The Frockers, Bridesmaids, and My Big Fat Greek Wedding, with raunchy French sexual innuendos served on the side.

The film is a loose adaptation of the French film, Mon frère se marie (2006), where a Vietnamese refugee, who was adopted 20 years prior by a Swiss family is about to get married.  His Vietnamese mother uses the wedding as an opportunity to “finally” meet the family who so lovingly took in her son.  However, all was not as it was supposed.  The Swiss couple underwent a less-than amicable divorce, the father is bankrupt, the sister is alienated and the oldest brother gloomy.

The awkwardness and confusion in this storyline starts at the very onset of the film.  Imagine a divorced, older woman returning to the scene of the crime—you know…where marital life and family life evolved.  In this scenario, Ellie Griffin (Diane Keaton) shows up at her old stomping grounds, only to find her ex-husband’s face creviced between the legs of her former best friend (Susan Sarandon), who is laying on the granite kitchen counter top calling her lover (not husband) Don Griffin (Robert De Niro) a “slut.”

O—kaaaay!

Why did Ellie leave her children and house in the hands of another woman, who happened to be her best friend?  How does a mother seemingly laugh off those life-altering events?  Of course, perhaps this character has a moment of sweet revenge when she ends up in a lengthy, loud sexual encounter with her ex (De Niro), who is particularly curious about her 90-minute orgasms.

Everyone seems to have an issue—to include the bride-to-be’s (Amanda Seyfried) weird and bankrupt parents.  This is dysfunction at its finest.  Perhaps a more authentic title would have been, “The Dysfunctional Wedding.”  Lyla (Katherine Heigl), the estranged child, who defines the word “bitch,” is as confusing as the day is long (and please someone talk to wardrobe and hair—clothing choices and her hairdo only added to her horrid persona). We do understand that she has obvious disdain for her father, and get a sense of how he sickens her in a metaphorical moment, when she manages to barf all over him as they reunite. Heigl’s character makes no sense, and never fully resolves.  You are just left with a million unanswered questions, and a very unlikeable character.

Ellie and Don’s brilliant 29-year-old doctor son Jared (Topher Grace) is saving himself for “Miss Right,” who happens to be Alejandro, his adopted brother’s sexy Colombian sister, Nuria (Ana Ayora).  Of course, he’s unaware that she’s “the one,” until she decides to give him a hand-job under the dinner table at the rehearsal dinner.  Suddenly, he’s inspired!

When a script is crammed with too many characters, with too much conflict, and too many unanswered questions, it is an indication that there is far too much going on.  The idea of “one external conflict” isn’t really present.

Here’s another important fact:  For a story to work, the audience has to have a relationship with the main character.  They must see relatable characteristics.  Even if the character is majorly flawed, the audience is still going to root for him or her.  I did not find myself doing that with any of these characters, in fact, they ALL annoyed me.

According to Aristotle, creating a powerful (believable) plot and structure is the most important aspect of writing.  In addition, plot and character are unified.  Screenwriter and author, Michael Tierno says, “Good writers serve their stories; bad writers serve their own agendas.”  Did Justin Zackham serve his own agenda?

For a story to work, the protagonist has to want something, and someone (the antagonist, and I’m still wondering who or what the antagonist is in this film) has to be there to stop that from happening.  It’s one major conflict—an important conflict, one that will send him on a journey that will change his or her life!

The Big Wedding promises to entertain—the title itself let’s us know we’re in store for something full-size!  But does it?  The late Blake Snyder, who authored one of my favorite books, Save The Cat talks about the “Promise of the premise…” Snyder suggests that a movies premise (it’s poster) can only satisfy if we (the audience) “see it in action.” In other words, there must be a pay off!  For the audience to feel satisfied, we must see the fulfillment of the promise (the theme) unfold with every scene.  If this does not take place, Snyder says, “The audience will consider it to be a bad experience.”

There is no pay-off in The Big Wedding, and by the time it’s over—the audience has only seen fragments of a wedding that never even got off the ground.  We’ve seen an ending that feels sudden and contrived, and three main characters that might be more believable if they were working as advocates for AARP.

Unlike the brilliant writing seen in the The Bucket List (2007), the biggest thing Justin Zackham has going for him with The Big Wedding is his exceptional cast, but even their genius couldn’t drive the rudder of this story.

What’s the point?

POV stands for “Point of view,” and is used to designate that the audience will see something from a specific angle or through a particular character’s eyes. It allows the reader/audience to understand how a character perceives or approaches a situation. The POV of a character is usually conveyed with a description of what the character is seeing and experience through dialogue and action.

EXAMPLES:
You can write a scene with identical dialogue, but with a different point of view—in other words, by adding a description, you reveal the character’s mood, heart/emotion.

(Example #1) MAGGIE glares.

(Example #2) MAGGIE glares, shocked and angered.

Do you see the difference? How does example # 2 bring the character’s POV to life?

In the second example, we are not just seeing Maggie glare/stare at something. There is obvious shock and anger, which could easily be revealed with body language, and in the way the character responds emotionally.

From this POV, the audience is going to see something from Maggie’s eyes.

Here’s another scene idea:

Maggie hovers outside a room eavesdropping on a conversation. We want her outside the door overhearing “something…” If you’re writing from the POV from a person inside the room, you would need to start the scene inside the room, and then have Maggie enter.

POV Character is the focal point of the particular scene. Typically, it’s a good idea that it be the character with the most to lose, or the higher stakes to play.

EXAMPLE:

INT. BOSTON PUB – NIGHT

The pub is dim, and Mark sits in the corner at the bar next to a drunken businessman watching Shelly and a BIKER—a heavily tattooed, drunk, obnoxious guy in his late 30’s, lean over a pool table bickering about the rules of the game.

_________

The audience is yet to discover that Mark is a pool shark, and he’s about to give these two a fast course in pool playing. Naturally, this will invoke conflict, because the Biker is into Shelly.

The camera is going to film that little scene from Marks POV. If it were from the Biker’s POV, Mark wouldn’t even be in the equation. We would only see the tension building between Shelly and the Biker.

This is part of the beauty of writing from a POV.  If the camera just dropped into the middle of this scene, not focusing on anyone’s perspective, the dramatic tension would not be nearly as strong when Mark confronts the Biker and starts to show them how it’s done.  Think about it…because this scene will be shot from Marks POV, it will give way to rising action and allow for greater conflict in the story.

We all have a point of view, right? This is part of human nature. That does not necessarily mean it’s correct, but it’s our POV. It’s the world as YOU see it.

Mark knows how to play pool, and he knows it well, so the way he views the scene between Shelly and the Biker is going to be very different from the way the guy sitting next to him at the bar does. The drunken businessman who is sitting next to him could care less about pool.

Question? Is Nora Ephron’s screenplay, Julie & Julia written from Julie’s POV?

Fun Trivia:

Here’s an excerpt from Emmy Award-winning interview host Charlie Rose’s interview with Meryl Streep and Nora Ephron.

Charlie Rose [to Streep]: If you have someone so pronounced in size and personality, in voice — distinct and different, easier to do, or harder to do? What were you trying to capture when you played her?

Meryl Streep: The outlines [of her character] were very familiar to people —
I knew that, and to me too, but in a way Danny Ackyrod’s version was even more vivid in our minds, and so it was already kind of already caricatured in your head. I wanted to look at her in the idealized way that Julie did, because this is Julie’s *imagined* Julia. [Emphasis in Streep’s own voice.] In her head, [Julie] imagines this gal in Paris with her husband. And I think because it’s in this roseate hue, I just wanted to make it as real as it could possibly be, but I didn’t feel that I really had to adhere to every piece of research I’d done on Julia. I just wanted to make a human being that lived.

Ephron: There’s no question that the Julia we show in the movie was Julie Powell’s idea [of her].

Streep: You never really know the ins and outs of a personality…but to imagine that you know the inner life and conflicts and anxieties of a public person, it’s very very difficult, but it’s endlessly interesting. [end]

So, I do think Julie & Julia is largely written from Julie’s POV.

Yep, yep, I do concur!

Decided to share a blog post with you all! It’s worth reading…While I’m at it though… I have to say this is so true.  I teach a screenwriting class in Santa Barbara, and we have discussed this very topic time and time again during workshop.  One of the advantages of reading your writing in a workshop, is to get feedback.  It also really helps flesh out characters, the storyline, and you will see pretty quickly where there are lapses in the story or action.  Reading  your work is paramount, and that’s true whether you’re a screenwriter, a poet, a playwright, or even a journalist.

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