The Foreplay of Foreshadowing & Other Cinematic Seductions

by Christina Hamlett

The inspiration for this month’s column was sparked by an email from Mr. Evan E., who recently inquired, “When are you going to write about sex?” I’m assuming, of course, that he is referencing this in the context of stage and screen topics and not just as a prurient device to get everyone to read this section of WOL first.

While such a contrivance obviously worked, the bad news (at least among the voyeuristic) is that this is, after all, a PG (pretty good) publication and will not be treading X-rated ground any time soon. The good news, however, is that Evan’s inquiry demonstrates he is already savvy to one of the cardinal rules of Hollywood: you need a good hook if you’re serious about reeling the public in. Likewise, you need to be able to deliver on whatever you’ve ‘teased’ if you want them to keep coming back for more.

Thus was born the idea of comparing the dynamics of sexual attraction with the power of crafting a compelling, come-hither script that producers will want to buy and audiences will want to flock to. The differences aren’t as far apart as you might think…

SHIMMER WITHOUT SUBSTANCE

We’ve probably all had the experience of sitting through movie theater previews and suddenly joining the collective ripple of delight over an upcoming feature. Two in particular that come to mind were LOST IN SPACE and WILD, WILD WEST, each conjuring fond memories of the long-ago television versions. As will be confirmed by most anyone who saw those films when they finally came out, however, the operative word was “dreadful.” Neither one—in spite of their glitzy gadgetry and big budgets—succeeded in capturing the charm, humor, or nostalgia of the originals. In both of them, the teaser clips (trailers) were the best part of the entire production.

While you as the writer won’t have control over which snippets of your own film will eventually comprise a trailer, you do have control over packaging your manuscript professionally and making sure that whatever you’ve proposed as an engaging premise is followed through with substantial development and a satisfying climax. A parallel is drawn to—oh, say, flirtations at ClubMed. Will the initial chemistry that ignited over Jamaican music and exotic drinks with little paper umbrellas be sustained after you learn that your paramour’s golden tan is fake, that he lives with his mother in a mobile home park, and that he’s a compulsive gambler?

Sometimes in the zeal to cement a relationship, an author will insinuate that there is more there than there really is, either in the script or his/her credentials to complete it. It’s for this reason that agents and directors want to see a complete synopsis or treatment as opposed to a cliffhanger letter which challenges them to become a pursuer if they want to find out how it ends. Agents and directors don’t have time to pursue; they have way too many people pursuing them. Remember that.

COMPROMISING POSITIONS

Many novice screenwriters falsely assume that once they’ve had a nibble on their first project, they are set for life. Roll out the red carpet. Have your people call my people. Ciao, baby. We’ll do lunch.

Just because someone loves your script, however, doesn’t necessarily mean they love every word of it . . . or, for that matter, love you. I am reminded of a book editor who once told me that she really liked my novel “except for pages 15 through 387.” Considering it was a 400-page manuscript, I had to wonder what it was that she liked about any of it. While I could have taken up the gauntlet of re-engineering the entire thing to suit her taste, it was easier to recognize that this relationship was more trouble than it was worth, not to mention the damage I felt her doofy suggestions would do to the plot. The very next editor bought it exactly as it was and it went on to get nominated for awards.

How many times in your youth (or—heaven forbid—even now) have you tried to mold yourself to someone else’s ideal? Although re-writes and more re-writes are a fact of life in the film business, it takes a well-adjusted ego to discern between the competence to put something on paper and the ability to actually take it to the screen. The producer’s job is the latter, calling upon you to do whatever’s necessary to bridge the transition and make that vision a reality for the movie-going public.

If change and/or imitation isn’t something you’re amenable to, you’re faced with two options: (1) turn down the offer and wait for someone new or (2) relinquish control to a writer of the director’s choosing. The ideal scenario, of course, is one in which both sides are open to compromise in order to bring out their respective bests. If the relationship is meant to work for the long term, each will respect the other’s area of expertise and be willing to work toward a final product that will make them both happy.

THE ART OF FOREPLAY

For a movie to be successful, it must effectively seduce at all levels, stirring the viewers’ senses and anticipation to the point that they just can’t wait to get to the good stuff. Furthermore, as soon as it’s over, they can’t wait to go tell their friends what a fabulous time they just had.

Film foreplay, like flirtation, can’t be rushed. Expose all the juicy secrets, liaisons, and cataclysmic action at the very beginning and there’s nothing left to develop or build on later. Mess too much with the audience’s minds by planting excessive red herrings to lead them astray, and the entire premise will ring false. Premature or erroneous disclosures, of course, can be just as damaging as the screenwriter who plays his/her cards so close to the chest as to provide absolutely no insights on the characters or their respective motives in the film.

In the same vein, too much backstory (i.e., everything I did before I met you) can impede the forward thrust of the plot (i.e., current goals and objectives). Reveal only that amount of background which is necessary to understand the characters’ present and future actions. The key to cinema seduction hinges on skillful foreshadowing. For this to work, you must learn to (1) hint at just enough mystique to get your viewers wondering what all the nuances and subtleties mean and (2) pace your most provocative clues at just enough distance apart throughout the movie to keep them hungry (and not just for popcorn).

WAS IT GOOD FOR YOU, TOO?

A dear friend from the South once ascribed to the philosophy that, “Whatever it takes to get a man (or a woman) is what you have to keep doing in order to hang on to them.” If money was the bait, you need to keep spending. If power was the attraction, you need to keep winning. If steamy sex was the lure—well, you get the picture. The same theory applies to filmmaking. Whatever enticement initially draws your audience into the theater is what they are expecting will be delivered and maintained. If it’s not, they will walk out. Even if they grit their teeth and stay for the duration, they will not likely be fooled if you try it on them again.

How often have you watched a movie in expectation of a happy ending, only to have the lead characters wander off into their bleak, separate orbits? Did you feel betrayed? Disappointed? Disenchanted? Certainly all of the indicators were there that the resolution would be a satisfying one and yet you were left with a sense of emptiness and the realization that your attention might have been better spent elsewhere.

This is especially applicable to new screenwriters who have a difficult time deciding what genre they’re writing in and, mid-way through the story, switch gears from a knee-slapping comedy into a brooding, introspective drama and a screen littered with dead bodies. Compare this to a relationship that starts out with a set of ground rules regarding the level of commitment expected (i.e., “I’m looking for someone to bear my children”) but unexpectedly devolves into something else (i.e., “I’d rather just be friends”). What if that individual returns at a later date and wants to pick up where he left off? Are you likely to trust him—or a scripted sequel— a second time around if the first one left you feeling so unfulfilled and cheated?

A good story, like good sex, makes you miss it when it’s over…and makes you impatient to revisit it time and again.

Former actress and director Christina Hamlett is a writer and script coverage consultant in Pasadena, California. Her publishing credits to date include 17 books, 100 plays and musicals, and several hundred magazine articles that appear regularly throughout the US, UK, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. For further information, please visit her website at http://www.absolutewrite.com/site/christina.htm.