Ride along with Christina in this look at some of the classic, romantic ghost stories of our times and examine the subtle techniques the screenwriter must use to pull them off. She also offers a writer's "spirit" checklist to help you fine tune your own skills!

Happily Ever Hereafter

By Christina Hamlett

"Til death do us part" has always been a popular theme at the movies, celebrating the concept of eternal soulmates and the triumphs of romance over all manner of earthly adversity.   That such fidelity can endure beyond a grieving lover's good-byes at the partner's gravesite is further manifested in a memorable host of ghostly films that attest to the strength of the human spirit and all of its inherent passions.  

Script such a tale for the screen and you're immediately guaranteed to appeal to two factions of the movie-going population: (1) those who believe that our dearly departed's continue to watch over our hearts and (2) those who feel that being courted by a sexy apparition is an acceptable diversion until the real thing comes along.

Before you start this spirited journey, of course, it helps to examine what has already been done in this genre and, accordingly understand the ground rules that make a romantic ghost story resonate with the audience.   

Although the Internet Movie Database (www.imdb.com) yields quite a few titles if you do a generic search on "ghosts," the following film sampler best illustrates what makes for unforgettable passion amidst the paranormal.

THE GHOST AND MRS. MUIR

GHOST

ALWAYS

TRULY, MADLY, DEEPLY

TO GILLIAN, ON HER 37TH BIRTHDAY

AFTERLIFE

THE HAUNTING PASSION

IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES

The major obstacle confronting each of the principals in the above list is also the most obvious: one of them is still alive and the other is dead as a doornail.   While men and women throughout history have been confronted with impediments to a happily-ever-after, those that fall under the category of race, religion, economics or marital status can usually be surmounted and resolved by FADE TO BLACK.  

What's a girl to do, however, if her paramour has already faded to celestial invisibility?   It's bad enough that he won't show up in any of the wedding pictures.   Who's going to wrap around her on a chilly winter's night or buy her Hallmark cards on Valentine's Day?

For the star-crossed romantics in each of the films named above, the only path to blissful communion requires that both partners be on the same side of the fence.   This, thus, puts forth the conundrum of whether the deceased is impatient enough to want to hasten the loved one's demise in order to provide some company or unselfish enough to encourage them to get on with the process of living and, in that process, open their hearts to meeting someone new.

ROMANCE WITH A STRANGER

In the 1940's, it was not socially acceptable in the movies to depict unmarried members of the opposite sex sharing the same roof.   Twentieth Century Fox made a creative exception to this in 1947 with the release of THE GHOST AND MRS. MUIR, a fantasy in which Gene Tierney as a beautiful widow takes up residence in a sea captain's mansion.   When the hot-tempered poltergeist fails to frighten her into leaving, a fragile attraction forms which soon leads to jealousy after a warm-blooded suitor steps into the picture.  

Tough choice.   What woman wouldn't want to spar with the eloquent likes of Rex Harrison or his subsequent television counterpart, Edward Mulhare?   Critical to the success of both the original movie and the 1968 series was the plausibility that a man who could strike terror in the hearts of his crew could be reduced to instant flummoxment at the sight of a woman's tears.

In both THE GHOST AND MRS. MUIR and the made-for-television THE HAUNTING PASSION starring Jane Seymour, both heroines' liaisons with the supernatural were purely a product of moving into a dead guy's former house.   Both women were also depressed by the problems visited upon them with the status of marriage and, thus, vulnerable to attention from outside gentlemen.  

For Tierney's character, she was widowed with two young children to support at the turn of the century.   The premise of her being a writer was repeated 20 years later in the persona of the no-nonsense Hope Lange.   With both Mrs. Muir's, the comfort zone of 24/7 male companionship was more desirable than the scarier proposition of re-entering the dating pool after a long absence.

For Seymour, she was saddled with an ex-jock (Gerald McRaney) who was not only grappling with his own mid-life crisis issues but believed a secret lover was cavorting with his wife.   Why else, he accused her, would she be erotically groaning in the shower?   This 1983 release skirted the then existing television standards of how much sexual activity could be conveyed on prime time.   Apparently if one of the participants is swathed in steam, you can engage in a multitude of sinful behaviors.

CUT DOWN IN THEIR PRIME

GHOST, ALWAYS, AND TRULY, MADLY, DEEPLY took a different tact on haunting.   Specifically, each of the three males who became unwitting ghosts were already in long-standing relationships but had their lives cut short without the chance to say good-bye to the women who loved them.   Interestingly, none of the male ghosts were married to their mates at the time of death, leading to the speculation of whether they would have popped the question if Fate hadn't intervened.

In GHOST--a story that instantly brings a lump to the throat every time "Unchained Melody" plays on the radio--Patrick Swayze's character is desperate to spiritually reconnect with Demi Moore as well as hover around long enough to solve his own murder.   Through the aid of Oda Mae Brown, a charlatan psychic played by Whoopie Goldberg, he is finally able to communicate that love endures beyond the grave.   As the audience, we accept that this revelation gladdens Demi's soul as opposed to sending her into long-term therapy and wistful expectation of further visits.   In addition, this is the only film among this selection whereby the newly departed attempts to logically examine the parameters and powers of his new existence (i.e., walking through walls, levitating objects, etc.).

The Richard Dreyfuss character in ALWAYS was the love of Dorinda (Holly Hunter)'s life.   This 1989 film was also a remake of A GUY NAMED JOE (1944) starring Spencer Tracy, the difference being that the latter was a pilot shot down in combat and Dreyfuss' Pete was an aerial forest-fire fighter who took one too many chances.   Both men subsequently found themselves in the awkward position of not only playing guardian angels to their successors but playing unwilling Cupids when they learn that the successors are romantically interested in the grieving gals left behind.   The mind-set of "If I can't have her, no one else should either" is put to the test when they respectively come to realize that it's in the best interests of their loved ones to let go and move on.   Character arcs, we see, are applicable even in the Hereafter.

Alan Rickman's portrayal of the cello-playing Jamie in TRULY, MADLY, DEEPLY brings us the story of a young woman who has yet to come to terms with the unexpected death of her boyfriend during a routine hospital visit.   When we first meet Nina (Juliet Stevenson), she is relating anecdotes to her shrink of all the influences that Jamie left on her life.   Imagine her surprise when Jamie himself returns.   Albeit a ghost, his presence in the house they shared is just the salve her aching heart needs.   Until, of course, he starts rearranging the furniture, inviting a few of his fellow ghosts in to watch videos, and tinkering with the thermostat.   In a character arc of her own, Nina slowly discovers that all of the irritating things her beloved did when he was alive are even more pronounced now that he's a spirit.   In the end, it is Nina who leaves Jamie to literally rejoin the living.

MISSING THE MRS.

Corporeal fidelity isn't just the purview of females, however.   In TO GILLIAN ON HER 37 TH BIRTHDAY and AFTERLIFE, audiences are introduced to two grieving husbands who lost their spouses to tragic accidents.   Depressed, suicidal, and remorseful over their roles insofar as not being able to prevent those deaths to begin with, both men attempt to alienate themselves from the present by dwelling on the past fervently enough in order to conjure the women they loved.

For Peter Gallagher, the boating death of Gillian (Michelle Pfeifer) still finds him grieving two years later and joining her ghost for long walks on the beach.   The widower's reclusive Nantucket lifestyle has his friends and family concerned, particularly since the workaday world that demands his attention is perceptibly unraveling.   While the females in the earlier mentioned films are lonely and distraught, none of them push the envelope in terms of taking reckless risks, sticking their heads in an oven, or lamenting that they should have been taken instead.   Life, as they know it, may have lost a lot of meaning but not to the point of wanting to end it.

Contrast this to both Gallagher's character and that of Logan in AFTERLIFE.   When the latter awakens from a two-month coma to learn that his pregnant wife, Angelique, is dead as the result of a car accident, he becomes obsessed with joining her on the other side.   Isn't that what she really wants, he rationalizes.   Why else would she keep popping up and insisting that she doesn't want to be alone?  

Logan's male associates are convinced he's delusional.   His female friends, on the other hand, ascribe to the theory that his getting laid--the sooner the better-- will knock all memory of Angelique right out of his head.  

The kicker in this ghostly conundrum, however, is that Angelique is very much alive and begging her comatose husband, via his subconscious, not to slip his mortal coils and succumb to an eternity in a very quirky Hell.

DEFINING THE LIMITS

Even if the genre you've chosen to write in is pure fantasy, it's still necessary to define its boundaries as judiciously as if all of the participants were carrying on a "normal" relationship.

For instance, it seems to be an immutable law that spirits can only operate within the same zip code in which they became deceased.   This accounts for why heroines who never had a prior encounter with a specter manage to attract one within the first 20 minutes of moving into the latter's last address.   This venue also invariably represents either the place the ghost was the most fond of or the site of the most unresolved business.

Less clear are the demarcations governing which ghosts can be seen and heard versus which ones are relegated to floating around in frustration.   Consistency becomes an issue when you ask yourself:

•  How come neither Mr. Muir ever checked on how their respective wives and children were faring?

•  Why is it that Nina can easily see Jamie's cemetery cohorts even though she had no prior kinship with any of them?

•  What enables ghosts to casually remark, "Not to worry.   They can't see me unless I want them to"? Do certain echelons possess invisibility cloaks they can drop at will?   If so, what's stopping them from acting like regular people all the time?

•  Why is it that ghosts like Jamie can move entire rooms of furniture while someone of Patrick Swayze's physique can't even push a penny?

•  And speaking of Swayze, how can someone so sensuously hot at the potter's wheel only manage to kiss Demi goodbye at the end via the borrowed lips of Whoopie?

Granted, the leap of faith inherent in romances of this nature can allow a lot to go unanswered.   By the same token, your ghost's modus operandi needs to be spelled out early in the story and remain constant throughout.

SEXY SPECTRES

Last but not least is the challenge of establishing sensual intimacy when the parties have such obvious physical limitations.   One factor, of course, is whether we were introduced to the deceased before he or she entered that state.   If the two partners had a pre-existing passion that we already witnessed (as in GHOST), it's easier to accept that the sense of lingering memory enables them to "stay connected" even on a different plane.  

On the other hand, the delicious anticipation of what it could be like to consummate a new relationship becomes an aphrodisiac that sweeps the audience right along with it.

With the exception of THE HAUNTING PASSION in which the ghost physically acts upon his lustful urges, the job of the screenwriter is to artfully convey the touchless, forbidden attraction through dialogue and nuance and to invite the audience to conjure their own, bittersweet   memories of loves that are no longer.

SPIRIT CHECKLIST

•  What went into the decision to make your ghost male or female?

•  Did your romantic pair have a relationship prior to one of them becoming a ghost? Is our first introduction when he/she is still alive?

•  Was the living partner responsible for the demise or could he/she have prevented it?

•  Why has this ghost come back?

•  What special powers, if any, does your ghost possess?

•  How much interaction do these two people have? (i.e., sight, sound, scent, touch).   Does anyone else in the movie have the same level of exposure?

•  If there is no interaction whatsoever, how will the ghost's presence be conveyed?

•  Which of the two has the greater lesson to learn about love?

•  How does your screenplay break new ground from what has already been done in this genre?

•  How will the romance be resolved?

•  How can a ghost communicate "I love you" without any words?

Christina Hamlett is an award winning author and script coverage consultant whose publishing credits to date include 17 books, 112 plays and musicals, 3 optioned films, and hundreds of columns and interviews that appear throughout the world.   For more information, please visit www.absolutewrite.com/site/christina.htm