Capítulo 4
Subplots: Adding Dimension to Your Story
Subplots add dimensionality to scripts, typically focusing on relationships while the main plot drives action. Good subplots push the plotline by changing its direction, intersect meaningfully with the main story, and carry the film's deeper themes. In Chicago, Roxie's star ambitions (subplot) influence her murder case (plot). In A Beautiful Mind, the love story raises stakes for resolving Nash's mental illness. Subplots reveal character vulnerabilities, dreams, and transformation arcs that the main plot might not have time to explore.
Most films need at least one or two subplots to avoid being too linear, though some like Tootsie and As Good as It Gets successfully juggle five to seven. Too few subplots risks a one-dimensional story; too many can muddle the script and steal time from the main plot. If you want numerous twists and turns, add more subplots. If you prefer deeper development of your main story, use fewer subplots.
The main plot typically receives the most screen time, especially in genre films like mysteries, thrillers, and action-adventures. Occasionally, subplots collectively take more time than the plot, as in Stand by Me where the dead body search gives direction but the friendships get more screen time. Similarly, in Slumdog Millionaire, the quiz show frames the story while the relationships and flashbacks occupy more minutes.
Like main plots, subplots need complete three-act structures with setups, turning points, developments, and payoffs. Subplot turning points often reinforce the main plot by occurring near its turning points, or they can provide additional twists midway through acts. Sometimes subplots don't begin until the plot's first turning point, as in Romancing the Stone, Tootsie, and Shrek.
As Good as It Gets exemplifies masterful subplot integration. The film contains one main plot with five supporting subplots, all working to help Melvin transform. The "B" story between Melvin and Carol shows how her goodness motivates his transformation, with clear turning points from his first interest in her son through their developing restaurant conversations, dinner date, temporary separation, and eventual reunion. The "C" story between Melvin and Simon progresses from antagonism to Melvin caring for Simon's dog, then ultimately becoming roommates. Each subplot has a clear beginning-middle-end structure, though smaller subplots may drop a turning point while still maintaining development and movement.
For effective integration, subplots typically need to thread through at least two acts, though occasionally they can work within a single act if tightly structured with strong turning points. The Luther film faced this challenge when introducing Katharina von Bora late in the story-by creating a well-structured subplot with clear turning points within Act Three, the relationship still worked dramatically despite its late introduction.
A subplot differs from a throughline in that subplots develop and change story direction, while throughlines are recurring elements without development. A throughline might be a visiting mother who cooks in the kitchen or a character's morning bicycle rides-these add dimension but don't create turning points or change the story's direction.
Subplots create script problems when they lack structure, ramble without focus, or disorient audiences. Common issues include: subplots that don't integrate with or intersect the main plot; subplots without resolution or payoff; and misplaced subplots that play too early, confusing the audience about what the main story is.
Capítulo 5
Maintaining Momentum: Keeping Act Two Alive
Act Two presents the challenge of maintaining momentum and focus for forty-five to sixty pages. Problems typically stem from insufficient momentum, lack of focus, detours from the main storyline, unrelated scenes, excessive dialogue instead of action, or improper pacing. While a strong setup and first turning point help launch Act Two, additional elements are needed to keep audiences engaged through this longest section of the screenplay.
Momentum is created when each scene propels us into the next through cause-and-effect relationships. Every scene contains seeds that grow in following scenes, advancing the action toward the climax. Little Miss Sunshine demonstrates this perfectly: Olive's desire to be a beauty queen leads to entering a contest, which necessitates a family trip to California, requiring them to take the old van, which breaks down, creating more obstacles. When Grandpa dies, they must hide his body in the trunk to continue their journey, risking discovery. Everything moves in one direction despite obstacles, with no arbitrary detours.
Action points are dramatic events that demand a response and drive the story forward. These visual moments are strong enough that characters can't ignore them-someone gets shot, meets their dream partner, or qualifies for a championship. The most effective action points are visual, dramatic, and compelling enough that protagonists must react to them, creating a tight chain of connected scenes that build toward the climax.
Implied scenes occur offscreen yet push the story forward. When a man invites a woman to leave a bar and we cut to them driving, we understand they exited and got in the car without needing to see it. Writers use implied scenes to skip mundane moments and focus on dramatically significant ones.
Obstacles temporarily block characters from achieving their goals, forcing them to make decisions, take action, or change direction. The story develops not from the obstacle itself but from how characters overcome it. In Little Miss Sunshine, the family faces numerous obstacles: the suicidal brother who can't be left alone, the son who refuses to go, the broken clutch, the grandfather's overdose, and arriving a minute late to registration.
When in doubt about obstacle quantity, follow the Rule of Three. Based on joke construction (setup, development, payoff), this principle suggests three obstacles are usually sufficient. To show a woman has bad luck dating, three terrible dates work better than twenty.
A complication is an action point whose reaction is delayed, creating anticipation. In Shrek, Donkey discovers Fiona is actually an ogre, but we must wait to see how Shrek will react when he learns the truth. Complications differ from standard action points in that they don't pay off immediately, they initiate new throughlines or subplots, and they interfere with a character's intentions without completely derailing them.
Reversals are powerful action points that catapult a story in the opposite direction. In Little Miss Sunshine, when the family is told they've arrived too late for Olive's pageant, an official reverses this decision and allows her to compete. Because reversals create such strong momentum, one or two are usually sufficient to push a story through the challenging second act.
A twist pushes a story in a new direction by reversing audience expectations rather than story direction. For twists to work, audience expectations must be carefully set up without being contradicted. Writers can't tell audiences something that's later revealed as false, but they can imply things that lead audiences to wrong conclusions.
Scene sequences-series of connected scenes about the same subject with beginning, middle, and end-provide powerful momentum by creating mini-stories within the larger narrative. Typically ranging from three to seven minutes, these sequences might show chase scenes, building to explosions, or lovers reuniting. Scene sequences can appear anywhere but are especially effective in mid-Act Two when momentum might otherwise lag.
Capítulo 6
Point of View: Guiding Your Audience's Experience
Writers must engage audiences by determining how much information viewers need to identify with the main character. These crucial decisions made in Act One establish the story's perspective and scope. Point of view (POV) fundamentally determines whether the story is told in first, second, or third person voice.
A first person or subjective POV shows every scene through one character's eyes. Unlike novels where characters directly say "I did" or "I felt," films achieve this by keeping the protagonist in every scene, limiting audience knowledge to what that character knows. "The Wizard of Oz" exemplifies this approach by following Dorothy's journey, with only minor diversions that don't truly leave her story. While this creates maximum audience identification, it can create problems when the protagonist lacks crucial information.
Films more commonly employ a two-person POV following both protagonist and antagonist. "In the Line of Fire," "The Day of the Jackal," and "The Fugitive" alternate between these perspectives, though occasionally incorporating brief scenes from other viewpoints. This approach creates tension through intercutting, as audiences see threats and near-misses the protagonist cannot.
Most films use an omniscient POV that moves between the protagonist's narrow perspective and broader contextual views. "Casablanca" alternates between Rick and Ilsa's viewpoints while showing the broader war context, beginning with a map of refugees fleeing to Casablanca before focusing on the personal story. However, an omniscient POV risks becoming so broad that audiences lose identification with the protagonist, sacrificing character empathy for broader storytelling.
A film's point of view often evolves during script development. A writer might start with a subjective first-person approach but need to expand to provide more information in Act Two. Whatever POVs are chosen must be established in Act One to avoid jarring perspective shifts later.
Voice-overs can reveal a character's subjective world through first-person narration or function as objective third-person narration. Films like "Sunset Boulevard" begin with the dead protagonist's voice-over, while "American Beauty" uses Lester's narration to convey his transformation. Voice-overs can create juxtaposition, as in "Michael Clayton" where Arthur's desperate voice contrasts with corporate visuals, or reveal private thoughts as in "Notes on a Scandal."
Voice-overs often become a writer's crutch, telling about events rather than showing them. When used sparingly, however, voice-overs can be highly effective-especially as meaningful juxtapositions to actions and images or to layer a story thematically. The challenge for writers is to show rather than tell whenever possible.
Flashbacks show scenes that occurred earlier than a film's present timeline, often representing a character's memories of past events. They can function subjectively to reveal a character's inner thoughts or objectively to provide necessary backstory. Flashbacks often fail when they're merely informational rather than dramatic. By their nature, flashbacks stop action or move a story backward, whereas real motivation happens in the present.
Intercutting juxtaposes short moments from different scenes to create meaning through contrast and build tension. Chase sequences frequently use intercutting to show the pursuer and the pursued alternately to create the sense of closing distance. "The Godfather's" baptism sequence intercut with murders, "The Dark Knight's" tension-building intercutting between multiple characters as a deadline approaches, and "The Prestige's" alternation between explanation and performance of an illusion demonstrate this technique's power.
Capítulo 7
Crafting Compelling Scenes: The Building Blocks of Story
Scenes are the building blocks of stories, advancing plot, revealing character, exploring ideas, and building visual context through action, images, and dialogue. The best scenes accomplish multiple purposes simultaneously-background imagery might express an idea, character actions reveal personality, dialogue advances the story, and their combination explores thematic elements.
A good scene accomplishes multiple objectives: advancing the story by moving toward the climax, revealing character traits that will pay off later in the script, exploring themes through dialogue and action, and building meaningful images. Whether showing a protagonist's rock climbing skills that will later prove crucial, or demonstrating a character's computer expertise that becomes plot-relevant, strong scenes connect to the larger narrative purpose while developing thematic elements through carefully chosen visuals and actions.
Writers must be selective about which scenes to include from the infinite possibilities in a character's life. Good screenwriters trust their dramatic instincts while ensuring the beats of both main plot and subplots are clear and connected. The key principles are: show rather than talk about action; make static scenes interesting by adding activity; include establishing shots to orient viewers; and use montages to convey information efficiently and show passage of time.
Even when delivering necessary but potentially dull exposition, skilled screenwriters employ several techniques to maintain audience engagement. You can place exposition under opening credits; use visuals instead of dialogue; scatter information throughout multiple scenes rather than dumping it all at once; let interesting characters deliver the information; add emotional reactions to information; incorporate conflict into exposition scenes; and deliver information through character dialogue rather than monologue.
To determine where a scene should begin and end, first identify its purpose and climactic moment. What essential information must the audience receive? Begin with only the necessary setup, then develop the scene through action rather than exposition. Consider what events must occur to move from setup to climax, ensuring each scene connects logically to the next. Even seemingly static scenes gain energy when reconceptualized in terms of action-what's physically happening rather than what's being discussed.
Strong scene contrasts create emotional impact and visual dynamism. Effective contrasts include light versus dark settings, intimate versus public spaces, or emotional tones (like a passionate love scene followed by an argument). Directors vary scene length, pacing, and subject matter to maintain audience engagement. The most powerful technique is intercutting contrasting scenes, as in "Schindler's List" where a concentration camp wedding is intercut with Schindler kissing a woman and the Commandant beating his maid.
Scenes fail when they don't connect cohesively to the overall narrative. Even brilliant individual scenes must flow together, creating momentum toward the climax. Films like "Schindler's List" and "JFK" maintain engagement despite their length because scenes build purposefully, while others feel longer when scenes remain static or descriptive. Common problems include lack of dramatic build within scenes, too many expositional moments without story progression, and absence of emotional shifts.
Capítulo 8
Creating Unity: Weaving Your Script Together
Whether in music, painting, or film, audiences crave unified, cohesive experiences. Films achieve cohesiveness through foreshadowing, recurring motifs, repetition, and contrast-techniques that thread elements throughout a story and create a satisfying whole.
Foreshadowing uses visual or audio elements to hint at future events, building audience expectations. It appears in mysteries (zooming in on a letter opener that becomes a murder weapon), comedies (setting up jokes), and complex narratives. In "Star Wars," early information about Luke's father pays off when we learn Darth Vader's identity. "Pirates of the Caribbean" sets up the Right of Parlay and Jack's pistol with one shot, both paid off later. "Back to the Future" cleverly foreshadows with the clock tower flier that initially seems unimportant but becomes crucial for Marty's return to 1985. Whatever a story needs at its end must be planted at its beginning.
Unlike foreshadowing which serves the story, motifs are more thematic-recurring images, dialogue, or sounds that deepen the story and enhance its themes. Motifs need at least three repetitions and work best when used throughout a film. The iconic "dum-dum-dum-dum" shark music in "Jaws" signals impending danger, while its absence during one attack intensifies the audience's fright. "Witness" employs a grain motif that evolves throughout the film-from Amish walking through fields, to bread at a funeral, to a corrupted hot dog in the city, to bullets hidden in flour, and finally grain becoming a weapon-symbolizing how violence transforms a peaceful community.
Repetition keeps audiences focused through recurring images, dialogue, character traits, or sounds-like showing multiple aspects of an alcoholic character's condition. Contrast compares two elements, requiring audiences to evaluate something new against something remembered. "Gone With the Wind" contrasts pre- and post-war living. "New in Town" juxtaposes Miami with small-town Minnesota. Characters can be contrasted too, like the mismatched detectives in "48 Hours" or the emotional Kirk versus logical Spock in "Star Trek."
Rewriting often works against script unity when changes don't consider the whole. Adding a murder scene affects everything that follows. Mystery and espionage films frequently struggle with cohesion-audiences love puzzles but get frustrated when clues and information aren't properly set up and paid off. Unifying a script requires meticulous attention to detail, thorough analysis, and constant awareness of the whole-but pays off in critical acclaim and box office success.
Writers often don't realize they have potential motifs in their scripts or that payoffs could be better foreshadowed. When rewriting, ensure everything foreshadowed is paid off and everything paid off is foreshadowed. Check for dropped elements from earlier drafts or payoffs that exist only in your imagination. Look for objects or sounds that could be expanded into recurring motifs-like squeaky shoes in a mystery or the musical communication in "Close Encounters of the Third Kind."
Capítulo 9
The Commercial Element: Connecting with Audiences
Everyone in the industry asks one crucial question about scripts: "Is it commercial?" While opinions vary widely about what makes something commercial-from star packaging to trendy subjects-commercial success rarely depends on a single element. Box office history shows that trends are unreliable predictors: fantasy films following "Lord of the Rings," musicals after "Chicago," religious films post-"Passion of the Christ," and even Westerns have all had mixed commercial results.
Commercial success typically requires three key elements: solid script structure, creativity, and strong marketability. Without any one of these, a script likely won't sell or perform well at the box office. While structure was covered in earlier chapters, it's worth noting that most critically and commercially successful films like "Juno," "The Dark Knight," and "The Lord of the Rings" have well-structured stories. But structure alone isn't enough-creative freshness and originality are essential. Producers want scripts with a hook or spin that makes audiences identify with characters and their problems. The most successful films often feature unusual premises executed well, like "Slumdog Millionaire" or "WALL-E."
Successful films express clear themes that reveal something about the human condition with universal appeal. These themes-the writer's beliefs about why things happen and what we can learn from them-help audiences identify with characters and situations. Common powerful themes include triumph of the underdog ("Rocky," "Slumdog Millionaire"), revenge ("Die Hard," "Gladiator"), triumph of the human spirit ("Rain Man," "Schindler's List"), and greed ("Wall Street," "Ocean's Twelve").
Most successful films connect with audiences through timely themes that tap into cultural undercurrents. Films like The China Syndrome (which premiered days before the Three Mile Island disaster) and WarGames (released amid news about computer hackers) benefited from serendipitous timing. Writers who succeed with trend-based films often have their "ear to the ground," sensing subcultural movements before they become mainstream.
Films connect with audiences through either descriptive or prescriptive writing. Descriptive writing shows "how it is"-depicting characters realistically in ways that feel extraordinarily true, as in Juno or Hotel Rwanda, where we wonder how we'd act in similar situations. Prescriptive writing shows "how it should be"-featuring idealized heroes like James Bond who act as we wish we could. Many successful films combine both modes or show character transformations from descriptive to prescriptive, as in Rocky, Working Girl, and Pretty Woman, where characters become more confident, skilled, or attractive to achieve their goals.
Successful issue-driven films personalize social problems rather than presenting abstract arguments. Juno tackles teenage pregnancy through one girl's experience; Milk and Philadelphia explore gay rights through individual stories; Erin Brockovich confronts pollution through personal cost. The most effective social issue films explore multiple dimensions of a problem rather than preaching one viewpoint. The best social issue films remember that drama studies humankind, not abstract problems-"Ideas might tantalize our heads, but characters move our hearts."
Audiences connect with films when they understand what's at stake for the characters. Beyond survival stakes, love needs are powerful motivators-shown in Michael Clayton through loyalty to a friend rather than romance. Integrity stakes drive characters seeking respect and accomplishment, as in A Beautiful Mind and Milk where characters overcome obstacles to realize their talents. Writers raise stakes by including multiple types in their stories and by keeping the protagonist's goal tantalizingly out of reach while exploring their emotional journey through obstacles, creating stronger audience connection.
Capítulo 10
Balancing Visuals and Dialogue: Showing vs. Telling
While many writers are drawn to the craft for their love of words, screenwriting demands a different approach-telling stories through brief dialogue and compelling images. The visual element takes precedence; audiences believe what they see over what characters say. A screenplay serves as a blueprint that will be realized through collaboration, not a finished literary product. Industry professionals look for scripts with "a lot of white" on the page-an effective balance between concise dialogue (typically 1-3 sentences) and brief descriptive passages (usually 1-2 short paragraphs).
Film is fundamentally visual, originating from silent movies that communicated stories with minimal written dialogue. To make scripts cinematic and appealing to directors and audiences, writers must master using images and actions to tell their stories. This requires writers to become keen observers of the world, noting specific visual details that make environments unique and authentic. Madrid isn't Los Angeles; Moscow isn't New York-each location has distinctive visual characteristics that should be accurately represented.
While accuracy in visual details is essential, writers must use imagination to make these visuals serve their stories. This might mean adding shadows or darkness, setting a scene at night, or including small elements that reveal character or theme-like a candle glimmering with hope in a poor setting or distinctive decor choices that reflect personality.
Images can communicate thematic meaning beyond simple visual description. When exploring themes like conformity, writers might use visuals of uniforms, people marching in step, or identical houses. Creative writers move beyond cliches to develop fresh images that remain understandable-like the color-coded egg cartons in "The Stepford Wives" symbolizing conformity, or the trail of candles in "The English Patient" representing new love.
While visuals are crucial, dialogue serves essential functions that images alone cannot fulfill. Dialogue provides necessary story information and introduces characters in ways that feel natural rather than forced. Instead of formal introductions like "Bob, this is Mary," skilled writers find creative ways to establish character names through natural conversation, name tags, office doors, or letters.
Effective dialogue gives each character a distinctive voice through rhythm, word choice, dialect, and grammar. Writers should capture regional expressions (like "See what I'm saying?" in Colorado or "doing lunch" in Hollywood) and genre conventions, such as fairytale speech in "Shrek" where Fiona says, "This be-eth our first meeting." Characters reveal cultural backgrounds through speech patterns-like the Minnesota dialect in "Fargo" with its distinctive Scandinavian lilt, or the varied voices in "Benjamin Button."
Dialogue becomes richer when infused with sensory elements and metaphors. Characters naturally speak in sensory terms-feeling "blue," going through a "baptism by fire," or saying "I smell a rat." These expressions engage the audience's senses and deepen understanding of characters. Any sense can be incorporated: smell, touch (feeling a "touch of mink"), sound ("cue the violins"), or taste ("leaves a bad taste in my mouth")-all creating more vivid, engaging dialogue.
Characters are defined as much by what they don't say as what they do. Subtext-thoughts or ideas not directly expressed-reveals deeper truths beneath surface dialogue. When a character says "I'm fine" while clearly upset, or "I don't care" when they deeply do, the audience senses the contradiction. Writers can convey subtext through actor direction cues like "(seething)" or descriptive sentences showing a character's true feelings.
