From a Director's Journal: Story - Structure - Script

by Mark W. Travis

It’s a great story.

I said this with all sincerity, because I really meant it. It was a great story. I was genuinely moved, intrigued and fascinated. So I was a little taken back when a look of surprise crossed the writer’s face.

You liked it? You liked the story?

It’s rare to find a writer who is not intrigued with his (or her) own story. It is even rarer to find one genuinely surprised when someone else likes the story.

Yes, I liked it. Why are you so surprised?

All I hear is criticism. It’s over-written. There’s too much description. There are too many characters. It’s confusing. It’s overly detailed. And then the ‘you can’ts,’ which I hear all the time. You can’t have a screenplay that involves so many complex characters. You can’t have a lead character that has two objectives. You can’t expect the audience to care about … etc. etc.

As I was listening to this litany of critiques and criticisms I became achingly aware of the easy patter of the uneducated and inexperienced critics of screenplays. In front of me was a man who had spent years examining, exploring and eventually exposing a series of extraordinary events that had occurred to him. He had placed himself courageously in the middle of his story, risked the balance of his own marriage and the condemnation of a series of personal and political connections. Now it seemed that all he was getting from those who had read his script was a list of acquired axioms that have rarely if ever applied constructively to any screenplay effort.

You’re the first person who has really liked this script.

I didn’t say I liked the script. I said I liked the story.

In that moment I realized I had made a distinction that I had previously only felt, but never articulated.

I like the story. It’s a great story. The script is over-written, clumsy, complex and often confusing. But that doesn’t matter to me. I like the story.

The script. The story. The script. The story. Why was I struggling with some odd and elusive distinction? Why were my healing neurons vying over definitions and delineations? What was the issue?

How can you like the story and not the script? I don’t get it.

And neither did I … immediately.

For the next few weeks I found myself telling my associates, partners and producer friends that I had read a script that I liked, but that the script didn’t work, but it had a story that did. I think many of them thought that I was crazy.

But, how’s the script?

Not good. Problematic. Overwritten. And he knows it.

And you’re telling me that you have agreed to make it? You’ve agreed to put your name to a script that doesn’t work? Why?

And as I talked, as I explained … it started to become clearer. The distinction started to find its way towards articulation.

Story … Structure … Script. Story … Structure … Script. All intertwined, all interlaced … but not the same thing.

How often have I passed on a script because the writing wasn’t good? How often have I abandoned reading when the structure was uncertain and not supportive of the story? And how often have I said to myself, "Well, it’s a good story but there’s no structure and the writing is uncertain, faltering, amateurish?" How often have I abandoned a good story because of weak structure and writing? And … perhaps more frightening … how often have I expressed interest in a script because of strong writing when the story was hardly worth spending a couple of hours reading (let alone six months to a year of my life to make the film)?

As much time as I’ve spent analyzing and consulting on scripts, as much time as I have spent lecturing and teaching other directors on the value of a good script, I have only recently begun to realize that we all need to look at film scripts in three distinctive (yet interactive) categories. Story. Structure. Script.

STORY. Bottom line is -- I’m a director. I’m not a writer, not a dramaturg, not a script analyst or a development person.

I’m just a director. I make films. I make movies. I tell stories through the medium of film. I think I care more about the story than any other aspect of the writer’s work. If it’s not a story that I want to tell, if it’s not a story that I can feel passionate about … then I’m really not interested. The key is, the story is not the script. The story is not the structure. This story is what can be described in a few words. The story is the heart and soul of the script and of the movie. The story is why we have all come together in this grand collaboration, why we are spending all this time and all this money merely to create these images and sounds that will be projected and amplified so that an audience can experience – the story.

STRUCTURE. I think it was William Goldman who said that ‘writing is structure.’ If it wasn’t Goldman it should have been. It was someone of that stature. Someone who is keenly aware that structure is an essential and crucial aspect of any good story well told. And what is structure? I look at a story like this: a story could easily take place (in real time) over weeks, months or even years. And if we were to truly experience that story we would have to take weeks, months or even years to watch it. But we’re not going to do that! No one is interested in doing that! We want to be in and out of this story somewhere near the two-hour range. That’s the agreement we, the audience, are willing to make. Eight bucks, two hours … that’s it. So, no matter how big the story is that you want to tell me, I’m going to only give you a couple of hours of my time. Then I gotta get back to my life.

So, how do we tell a story in two hours? Selection, priorities, compression. Structure. It’s the selective feeding of information and events to an audience so that an illusion of the larger is created. The structure is not the real story. It is certainly not the whole story. It is more an emotional journey than a realistic journey. It is the reorganizing of the elements of an event to create another event. It is the highlights, the key moments, the key events. It is the compressing into one moment or one scene, crucial shifts in behavior, attitude and relationship. Structure is not the story, but rather how we are going to be told the story. Regardless of the structure, the story is still the same story. But the structure determines our journey, the audience’s journey, how we will experience the story. The structure is the first stage in the telling of the story. The second stage is the script itself.

SCRIPT. The script is what happens within the structure, what happens within each scene, each selected moment. It is the heartbeat, the pulsing within the skeleton.

It is what brings life to the characters and brings dimension to the relationships. For many years I have been saying (and teaching) that the script is not the story but rather the result of the story. And for many years, even though I thought I knew what I was saying (and was so sure that what I was saying was correct - and maybe even profound), it wasn’t until recently that I realized the accuracy of this statement. The script is not the story. The story is the interaction between characters as they strive to achieve their objectives and the script, the words, the actions, the behaviors are merely the expressions and the results of those attempts. The script is what the characters happen to say and happen to do as they attempt to achieve something else. Life is what happens as you are planning something else. The script is what happens as the characters are attempting something else.

You know, Mark. This all sounds very interesting, very insightful, very academic. I’ll even throw in ‘profound’ if it’ll make you feel better. But who cares? Either the script works or it doesn’t. That’s good enough for me.

Here lies the trap. "The script works (or doesn’t work)." In that statement we are ignoring the story. So what if the script doesn’t work? Is the story compelling? Is the story worth telling? If so, then go to the structure. Don’t worry about the script just yet. If the story is worth telling then ask yourself, ‘does the structure support the story, tell the story in an intriguing or captivating way? Do the sequence of events, as reflected by the structure, give you a strong foundation from which to tell the story?’ If not, then reexamine the structure. Ask yourself how you would like to tell this story. How would you like to lead the audience through the events and circumstances of your story? What kind of journey would you like to take the audience on? How do you want to manipulate the audience’s experience so that they receive the story in such a way that the impact is precisely what you want? Try telling the story (to yourself or to another) using the structure only. Do you find yourself altering the sequence or the events in order to give your listener a specific experience? All you are doing is altering the structure. The story is the same. The story hasn’t changed. All that has changed is the sequencing and selection of events. If you feel the structure is working for your telling of the story, then - look at the script.

If the story is compelling and the structure is supportive, then look within the structure and explore the behavior and expression of the characters. Does this behavior and expression take you into the areas of the characters and relationships that you want the audience to experience? If so, then the script works for you. If not, then you need to clarify your needs as director/storyteller and knowing that the story and structure work for you, all you are questioning is the actual occurrences within the scenes or moments.

Seems like a lot of work just to tell a story. Look, I get an idea, I start writing, eventually the characters start speaking on their own (they won’t listen to me for very long if they’re at all interesting) and then I’m lucky just to keep up with them until we hit page 120. All of this analysis of story, structure and script is a bit much for me. You directors are always analyzing our work to death. How would you like it if we analyzed every shot, every camera angle, every performance, every move, every cut, every piece of music, sound effect . . . ? You wouldn’t like it. I can tell. So just leave us alone. Let us write. Let us express ourselves. All we need is for you guys to help translate the script to the screen and let the story unfold.

If it were only that easy. Just translate from script to screen. I wish I could do it that way. I know I could try. But I also know that I constantly feel this enormous obligation to tell the story in the best way I can. Not for economic reasons and certainly not for career or ego reasons. But mainly because this story will most likely be told only once. And I have this tremendous obligation to give this particular story the best shot possible. So I analyze. So I compartmentalize. So I prioritize. I feel that if I serve the story in every step I make, maybe, just maybe, I might be able to come up with some comprehensive and compelling telling that will captivate the viewer. If I can see how the machine is put together, then there is a good chance that I will be able to take it apart, polish each part, reassemble it, and it will still work.

All I’m doing as a filmmaker is telling the same story that inspired the writer to write the script. I pray to God that I will be able to do it as well on the screen as he/she has on the page. I pray that my ‘structure’ and my ‘script’ will work as well as the original. That when I polish each part I don’t scratch it, remove that protective film or overexpose it to the elements. That it will slide smoothly back into place and hum right along with all the other parts and take the audience on an intriguing, captivating and compelling journey.

So, you like the script?

No, I like the story. The structure feels workable. The script needs reconsideration. It’s not living up to the potential of the story.

I said this in an interview the other day. I took the risk that the response would cost me the job.

You don’t like the script and yet you want to direct it?

Let me tell you the movie I see in the story. And you tell me if this is the movie you want to make.

When I finished telling the story I felt pulsing within this very awkward script the response was: Finally, you’re the first director who has seen the movie the way we see it.

I understand. But you have to understand that it’s not in the script, and it’s barely in the structure. But it is in the story. That is the story that is in there. That is the story I want to tell. That’s the movie I want to direct.

It was a risk. A big risk. Paid off. Got the job. The beauty of it is that we are all on the same page. We are all committed to telling the same story.

I’ve got a script I’d like you to read. I think it’s really good.

Take five minutes. Tell me the story. If I like the story, I’ll read the script.

-- MWT
©1999 Mark W. Travis