Friday, May 7, 2010

Screenwriting for 3-D

I was recently hired to do production rewrites on Conan (the barbarian, not the erstwhile Tonight Show host) which is being released in 3-D using the same digital process used in Alice In Wonderland. This is part of an industry-wide rush to embrace 3-D technology and thereby boost box office returns, as chronicled in several L.A. times articles.

A bunch of bloggers asked me how screenwriting for 3-D differs from traditional screenwriting, and I didn't have a good answer. So over lunch, I asked several other scribes how their approach differs now that studios have hired them to work on 3-D films. Each one said that it basically changes nothing - that they just focus on the story. In his own short blog entry on Writing for 3-D, Jon August sums up the sentiment by quipping, "For screenwriters, 3-D is something that may come up in a pitch, but will have very little impact on the written word."

But others see it differently. They warn that 3-D is going to "change the very nature of cinematic storytelling," apparently for the worse. In another recent L.A. times article, one screenwriter claims that "Just like a sitcom writer tries to have three laughs per page, I [try] to have a 3-D moment every 8-10 pages," an attitude that evokes the old Roger Coreman dictum to include bare breasts every 8-10 minutes. The article goes on to suggest that serious films are shot in 2-D, that only certain "genre films" are suitable for 3-D, and that Hollywood's recent turn towards the technology can only mean than it will be harder to get quality films made.

So does 3-D change nothing? Or does it change (and ultimately ruin) everything?

To say that 3-D has "no effect on the written word" seems false to me. Screenwriters are not novelists or poets. We use the "written word" the way architects draw blueprints, and ultimately we are judged not by the words we use but by the movies those words are meant to represent. Our job is not just to write story and character, but to pre-imagine a movie, so the way we imagine these movies really does matter.

When movies were primarily shot without sound, writers imagined the action without sound, and told their stories primarily with visual imagery. When movies were made in black and white, writers imagined the stories in black and white (in fact, people used to dream in black and white.) As more and more movies are made in 3-D, filmmakers ( and yes I consider screenwriters to be "filmmakers") will imagine stories in 3-D.

To me this is neither good news nor bad news for the quality of the movies themselves, although it's easy see it as a turn for the worse. The first sound films were far less creatively ambitious than the visually dynamic silent films of Buster Keaton and Fritz Lang. The first color films were often musicals that packed the entire spectrum in every gaudy frame; as late as the 1960's "serious films" (Think Godard, Bergman, and Fellini) were made in black and white.

These days filmmakers use sound and color in ways that serve the narrative. Unlike the early musicals, the cinematic palette is often extremely desaturated, so that a particular color makes a story point. Unlike early talkies, contemporary films avoid dialogue for long sequences in order to focus on the visuals. I'm not talking about esoteric and pretentious art films here (though I love them so). Think of M. Night Shyamalan's desaturated imagery and use of the color red in The Sixth Sense, or the long opening sequence with virtually no dialogue in WALL-E.

And these are choices the filmmakers made while first imagining the film, choices made while writing the screenplay.

To me the most striking thing about Avatar, as it concerns this issue, is not its awesome technical achievement, but that 3-D functions as a tool for storytelling, not as a gimmick. No one can tell me that James Cameron did not imagine his film in 3-D, and that this imagining had no effect on the words he chose to put on paper. Conversely, the most interesting visual aspect of films like 300 or Sin City, is that the filmmakers have chosen to eliminate depth entirely and focus on the dynamic graphic tension of radically flat, 2-dimensional imagery. Both those films were imagined and "written" in 2-D as graphic novels.

So my point ultimately is that 3-D has become not just a technical issue that screenwriters can ignore, but rather a creative choice that can enhance (or take away from) the storytelling. So that you understand what I'm getting at, indulge me for a moment and look at some pictures. My understanding of visual storytelling comes mainly from Bruce Block, a professor at USC's School of Cinema/TV, who wrote a must-read book for every screenwriter called The Visual Story. In it he defines three types of cinematic space:

Flat Space containing very little depth. Examples of movies that use flat space are 300 and The Parallax View.

Limited Space, which separates actors and objects in well defined flat planes. You've seen limited space in films by Ingmar Bergman, and more recently, Wes Anderson.


And Deep Space, which emphasizes depth. My favorite examples of movies that use deep space are Kubric films, like The Shining.


Block taught that filmmakers use different kinds of space in adjacent shots to create contrast and excitement, or they use the same kind of space, shot by shot, to create affinity and unity. 3-D technology is just another way to emphasize deep space. Sometimes filmmakers (did I mention that screenwriters are filmmakers?) may chose to flatten the cinematic image in a scene just before a big "3-D moment" to emphasize the sense of vertigo. Other times filmmakers may deliberately avoid 3-D - or any sort of depth - to create an image like a graphic novel. But 3-D isn't something that is best slapped-on the narrative as an afterthought.

In short, 3-D is just another creative choice, one that the screenwriter should neither over-emphasize nor ignore.

So far, this best describes my experience on Conan. 3-D has indeed subtly effected the way we (writer, director and producers) are imagining the story. The Ruins in the climax, are looking more and more like a drawing by M.C. Escher - characters jump, fall, and swing their swords, in our imagination, in jaw-dropping 3-D. Conversely, I imagine the quieter scenes preceding the climax, scenes that emphasize dialogue and character intimacy, as completely flat. I don't imagine "3-D moments" but I do imagine the space - flat, deep, or limited - in which the action occurs.

And, I think the film has benefited for it.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

3D for Independent Film

Shortly, I will be posting a blog about writing screenplays for 3D films, but in the meantime, read this perceptive article (link below) by Jacques Thelemaque about the possibilities of 3D filmmaking for those of use who direct movies on micro-budgets.

The point ultimately is that 3D is just another storytelling tool in the filmmaker's toolbox. Like other cinematic elements - color, movement, composition, mise en scene and so on - 3D has emerged as not just another gimmick, but as a creative choice that will increasingly be available to all of us.

See the link below...

A Filmmaker's Life: "AVATAR" - Coming to Broadway soon.....!!

Monday, January 25, 2010

But... but your movie was so much BETTER than that!

There you are, rising from your seat as the house lights come up, dumbstruck with jealousy and outrage at the film you just finished watching. "How," you ask in shock and incomprehension, "did THAT film get into Sundance when mine did not?"

Yes, I've been in that seat too. I recommend reading an article by a two time Sundance alumni, who, like you, was rejected this year by the most dreamed-of, hoped-for, and disappointed-by festival in the country...

A Filmmaker's Life: I Just Got Rejected From Sundance

Friday, December 4, 2009

Are YOU going to Sundance?

I keep getting asked for tips. Take them from the oracle:

TIP SHEET FOR SUNDANCE FILMMAKERS

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

BETTER LIVING THROUGH FILMMAKING

Bad economy got you down? Unsure about how to survive as a filmmaker? Read this article...

BETTER LIVING THROUGH FILMMAKING


Thursday, October 22, 2009

"Melancholy Baby" showing at Arclight Hollywood

To those reading this blog for the first time, I'm Sean Hood, screenwriter and filmmaker.

So on Sunday, October 25, my film, "Melancholy Baby," will be screen at The Hollywood Film Festival. You can watch the film online, here.

The film won an "2009 Award of Excellence" from The Acolade Film Awards.

Check out the article on Melancholy Baby in Moving Pictures Magazine.

You can read independent reviews of the movie (written by people who are NOT friends or relatives) here:




You can get a sense of me personally from my blog articles:



Sunday, September 13, 2009

The Book of Names

Most of you know me as a screenwriter, filmmaker and artist - all right brain. But in college I majored in mathematics, with particular interest in multidimensional geometry and transfinite set theory.

Most people think that mathematics is not spiritual or creative. My experience, however, is just the opposite. The one place I have found completely unbounded possibility and spiritual awe is in mathematics.

Did you know that there are different "sizes" of infinity? The natural numbers are infinite, but they are a "countable" infinity, meaning that each element in this infinite set corresponds to a natural number (1,2,3,4,5... and so on). However, as the mathematician Georg Cantor proved, the real numbers are an even LARGER infinity, an "uncountable" infinity. And there are larger, and LARGER infinities beyond that one: an infinite number of infinities, nested inside one another like an infinite number of Russian Dolls. Cantor gave each infinity a cardinality, designated by the the Hebrew letter Aleph. The infinite series of infinities he listed as...

0, 1, 2, 3, \cdots, n, \cdots ; \aleph_0, \aleph_1, \aleph_2, \cdots, \aleph_{\alpha}, \cdots.

Huh? What? Uh... How exactly is this spiritual or creative? Well, consider this...

Imagine God has a book with an infinite number of pages. He decides to put the name for every object, concept or action into this book, with each name having its own page. He calls this book, The Book of Names.

The Book of Names is has a "countable" number of pages (each page has a page number) that goes up to infinity. This should be enough for every possible name, right? But God discovers he has a problem.

Collections of names can be gathered together into subsets, some finite and some infinite, and all these subsets are called "Stories." God realizes that each of these stories will themselves have a title (or name), which will need to go into The Book of Names.

But (as the mathematician Cantor has proven), the book with an infinite number of countable pages is too small to contain all the possible stories made up of collections of the names (words) on it's own pages. As it turns out, God needs an infinite library filled with and infinite number of books, each with an infinite number of pages to contain the names of all these stories.

He calls this The Library of Names.

Is he done now? No, he is not. He soon realizes, as Cantor did, that this library itself has an "index" of all the books in it. In fact, there must be an index for every possible library filled with a subset of books from the main library. Each of these possible sub-libraries must have a name, and the index of this infinite number of sub-libraries is too large to fit in the original Library.

God needs a CITY with an infinite number of infinite libraries. The City of Names.

Which leads him to realize that this process naming, storytelling and indexing is never ending. He discovers he will need a PLANET of Names with an infinite number of possible cities, then a SOLAR SYSTEM of Names with an infinite number of possible planets, then a GALAXY of Names with an infinite number of possible systems, and then a UNIVERSE of Names with an infinite number of possible galaxies...

It goes on and on, with multiplicities stacked on multiplicities, until god realizes that there is no limit. No concept of infinity is large enough to contain itself and all possible names. Even God cannot possibly understand and name himself, for he would need an infinite number of infinite Gods just to name all of his own possibilities. God is not "one." God is pure multiplicity. God is an infinite number of infinite names, unknowable in its totality, even to himself.

Chew on that,

- Sean Hood

(P.S. If this subject blows your mind, read The Library of Babel by Borges, or The Library of Dreams in Neil Gaiman's Sandman, Being and Event by philosopher Alain Badiou, and of course the work of mathematician Georg Cantor)

(P.P.S. Oh and also try Arthur C. Clarke's "The Nine Billion Names of God." With the creepy ending, "Overhead, without any fuss, the stars were going out." This one was suggested by computer genius, Kai Lui.)