I know, dude, this is a really strange thing for a filmmaker to say, eh?
Look, cinema is a DARK DARK art okay? You can get people used to all kinds of dehumanizing nonsense by showing them IMAGES of it first.
No one knows this better than Muslim hijab-wearing women.
And I’ve been studying and working with cinema now a good ten years. Yeah I’m old. Never you mind how old I am! Just kidding, I’m 34 this year. Growing old is a privilege.
The standard method of creating, at least the way I’ve been taught, is to have a theme.
What is a theme, you ask, assuming you are one of the many lambs my kind lead to slaughter.
It is the ‘meaning’ of the film/show. The question we try to explore. Its essence. Its beating heart.
The more robust the heart, the better the show/film. The more the theme permeates every aspect of the film/show’s existence, the more enjoyable it is to watch. You feel like you’re in good hands. You relax. You enjoy the ride. You binge-watch.
You turn off your thinking brain.
Don’t do that, my love. You’ll drive into a ditch.
Because films and TV always have to leave out SOMETHING. That something is usually something really important.
This is because neither form can tolerate that level of complexity (at least not yet). The real world has multiple layers to it. The world in entertainment can only have a few, otherwise it would cease to be entertaining and just life. And nobody wants to watch life.
The most important questions is…what is the creator of this piece of art leaving out?
Take for example the show Dark.
It is essentially about the inevitability of destiny. This is not destiny delivered from God. It is genetic destiny. Sons are doomed to walk in their fathers’ footsteps. We cannot escape our family’s trauma. We cannot outrun grief. We simply cannot let the people we love go. Even if we escape to another time period. Even if we escape to another dimension.
There is no God in Dark, only time. Which no one worshiped, but everyone tried to control.
There is also no therapy in the world of Dark. Which, given some effort, could have solved all of its problems. But then what do I know?
You see? In order for the TV show to work, you have to leave out something. The creators of this show chose to leave out joy, hope, trust, the acceptance stage of the grieving process, etc.
If I hadn’t stop to think, I wouldn’t have recognized that.
So now what do I do?
I make du’a before I read or watch something, even if it is only a tiny Youtube video or article. (Or at least I intend to. There’s so much content everywhere, that mindfulness will take some practice).
I ask Allah (God) to show me what the creators have left out. I remind myself that all power belongs to Him and we will all return to Him. I confirm that He is the only One who can change my condition. This is a affirmation of my values.
I also try not to watch things for too long. I make notes every so often on what I like and what I hate.
Dark is a beautiful TV show. It was densely and thickly plotted. I loved that time was a tight knot and I loved following along as each strand unravelled.
But as I’ve said above – no God, no joy, no love that doesn’t immediately destroy itself. What a well, DARK, way to live.
Anyway, this is what I do or try to. Be interesting to hear what you think.
Assalam alaikum wr wb, all my brothers and sisters. Peace and mercy be on our calloused fingers and every part of our tired but hopefully happy bodies.
I’ve been studying the oft-ignored of logline-writing.
I have culled together the main things we should remember when we write log-lines from the various sources listed at the Black Board.
1. Start with an interesting character, give him/her a high-stakes want and make the obstacles against them practically insurmountable.
I think it’s worth unpacking each of the terms mentioned above.
An interesting character
Who would be the most fascinating person to put in this situation? Usually the most fascinating person has the steepest learning curve.
When mentioning the Protagonist, give them just one well-chosen adjective.
Don’t include their name.
Only mention a maximum of two characters in the log-line, preferably Antagonist and Protagonist. More than that and it just becomes confusing.
This applies even to an ensemble piece, such as Bridesmaids or One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
A high-stakes want
The highest stakes are usually derived from the five primal human needs – hunger, survival, protection of loved ones, sex and revenge.
None of these need be interpreted literally and more than one, I imagine, can occur in the same script, while carefully making sure the plot doesn’t become too muddy.
Peeples has the following log-line:
Sparks fly when Wade Walker crashes the Peeples annual reunion in the Hamptons to ask for their precious daughter Grace’s hand in marriage.
Wade obviously wants to have sex with Grace, or wants to continue having sex with Grace, by showing his commitment to only having sex with Grace.
The Peeples’ family, I imagine, are trying to protect their daughter Grace from Wade.
Two competing wants = hopefully a funny and juicy conflict.
This segues nicely into the next crucial part of a log-line
Antagonist/obstacles
Do not ever have a passive character to whom things just ‘happen’. This is a fault not just in the log-line but in the entire story concept. The character should be the engine of action in the story.
He or she does something, something happens, they react by doing something else, probably still oblivious to their fatal flaw. Something else happens. And so on until the Protagonist learns a new behaviour – or not.
Make the conflict external, even if it is internal. Let the Antagonist take a shape of some kind.
The character’s flaw is exacerbated, rendered life-threatening, by the obstacles the Antagonist puts in his/her path.
Again life need not be interpreted literally. Death can occur even when all your bodily functions are still working. As anyone who has ever stood in line at the DMV knows.
Hence the conflict forms the dramatic through-line of the logline.
Subplots should not be mentioned.
2. The logline should indicate the set-up, set up the main conflict of Act 2, and hint at the problem that will be resolved by Act 3.
This is by far one of the most useful things I’ve learned from the resources on log-lines.
Let’s look at the Peeples logline again:
Sparks fly when Wade Walker crashes the Peeples annual reunion in the Hamptons to ask for their precious daughter Grace’s hand in marriage.
Let’s re-arrange it so it mimics the 3-act structure of the movie.
When Wade Walker crashes the Peeples annual reunion in the Hamptons, sparks fly when he asks for their precious daughter Grace’s hand in marriage.
It’s much less elegant and a little confusing, which is probably why they went with the previous structure.
Act 1 set-up: When Wade Walker crashes the Peeple’s annual reunion in the Hamptons….
The Hamptons = lots of money.
Wade Walker = probably not so much money.
The use of the word ‘crashes’ means that he’s not expected and probably, not welcome either. Conflict already built in.
Act 2: “…sparks fly when he asks for Grace…” This is the engine of conflict for the bulk of the movie.
Act 3: How will we know whether Wade is a loser or a winner in this movie?
Answer: We’ll know if he’s allowed to marry Grace or not.
Once you have all these ducks in a row, you can fiddle around with them to make a cleaner prettier sentence.
3. What are the genre expectations based on this log-line?
The genre is one of the key aspects of marketing a movie and one of the first questions in a production executive’s mind when he views a coverage report.
A lot of dark comedy log-lines I wrote initially were misunderstood as thrillers.
I’ve found using ‘funny’ words and an ‘ironic’ tone might help.
Yep, I’m still researching this one, mostly in the comedy genre, because that’s my jam. Will let you know.
4. You can diagnose a lot of script problems at the logline stage alone.
It’s amazing what an incredible diagnostic tool a log-line is.
In the forums on the Black Board, I’ve been alerted to lackluster antagonists and protagonists, a lack of a clear goal, and various other more secondary, but still very important considerations.
Such as there are too many weird things going on (sci-fi).
The device that connects everything together just isn’t working (sci-fi again).
And various other common-sense questions that don’t arise when you think you’ve discovered a brilliant concept.
For example, in Harry Potter, why didn’t they use the Time Turner and just jolly well go back in time and kill Voldemort?
5. Slice-of-life log-lines operate according to different rules.
Slice-of-life movies do not translate their internal goals into external goals.
During a weekend jaunt at a British country house, servants – who must keep order and protocol – struggle to please their aristocratic employers until a murder threatens to disrupt the balance.
According to Lockhart, these stories should be defined by a time ( as in Christmas in Love Actually), place (Gosford Park) or historical event (Bobby) and the theme should not be presented didactically.
6. You only got 25 words!
…but I’m sure, in the age of Twitter, that isn’t too big a deal.
7. Start with a spark of an idea and keep adding elements to it.
No one is born a fully formed adult having already discovered their vocation and values in life.
So it goes with loglines. Rarely do they come out fully formed.
They start out pure, innocent and sweet in the form of a story concept, a angel that strikes you with its wing in the queue at the supermarket.
For example, “a lawyer who cannot lie”, “Othello in high school”, “Othello in Indian politics” (these three are high-concept because they can be summed in a few words), “racial tension in LA”, “a family road-trip to a beauty pageant”.
The conflict, the stakes, the wants and the needs, all come later as you let the thing sit around for a while, gathering form.
When it graduates college, you’re good to go! (I know I’ve stretched that metaphor way too far.)
Day after day, week after week, I watch trailers, I look at posters, I scan the cinema listings hopefully, looking for something worth watching.
Nothing.
Less than nothing. A slap in the face. A grab for my wallet.
I’m not interested in franchises anymore. I’m not interested in movie stars. I’m not interested in explosions.
I am not interested in shock, awe, blood, gore. I am not interested in laughter or tears. Those are empty emotions and can be triggered by practically anything I pull up on YouTube.
I would like a story.
How do you define a story?
A story means something to you. Not to me, the viewer, the ticket-buyer, the audience member, the cat-caller. To you, the story-teller.
Why do I love listening to my parents tell stories? Because they are joyful in the telling and I can see it in their faces. And through that joy, I begin to understand their values, their experiences, their beliefs, however different we are.
As we began to stop telling each other stories, I understood them less and less and we fought more and more.
The fact is, story allows me to empathize in a way that no other medium has achieved.
That is why I hate everything that is in the cinema right now. It’s a blatant insulting play for profit. It desecrates story and the power of the human spirit.
I don’t mean to say that stars, explosions and high drama are bad things. I think they just have to be used in the right way.
I loved Michael Clayton. It showed a veneer of real filth underneath a sterile world. It showed two men coming apart at the seams. Yes it had George Clooney and Sydney Pollack in it. But it was a great story.
I loved Ides of March too for much the same reason. It seemed real to me.
I follow the work of Ryan Gosling, not just because he’s an incredible actor, but mainly because he has a knack for picking exceptional projects. There has not been one movie of his that I’ve seen that I’ve not enjoyed and that I wouldn’t watch repeatedly and that I wouldn’t badger my husband into seeing.
There’s plenty of literature on how to test a concept for the marketplace. I particularly recommend Save The Cat’s program of market research.
The question is – how do you know if a story concept is right for you? How do you gauge your level of passion for it? How do you know that it’s touching some deep dark place rather than simply treading tired old ground?
This isn’t just about generating the passion to go the long haul with each project. It’s about having a product at the end, that no matter what happens, you can be proud of. Because you poured your heart and soul into it. Because you told the truth, no matter how much it hurt.
That sort of energy will sustain a career, in my opinion, and that’s what I’m cultivating.
To that end, I’ve been asking a lot of questions about each idea.
As a viewer:
Why would I watch this movie? What elements would make me book that ticket in advance?
What elements would make me avoid this movie? What makes me shriek much like I did above?
These two questions allow me to really get to the nub of what sort of experience I want as a movie-goer.
As a writer (this is the clever bit):
In what ways is this idea within my comfort zone of my abilities, interests, previous writing experience, etc?
In what ways is this out of my comfort zone in the same ways?
It’s maddeningly simple, but for me, it’s helping me shape a story that’s been knocking around in my head for months now.
More importantly, it’s helping me commit to that story. Because I know why I’m writing it. Even if the telling is mediocre and the reception is poor.
Let me know what your thoughts are. And for God’s sake, if you’re a filmmaker with a movie that means something, please tell me about it. I’m starving for something real.
Wasalam and Fee Amanillah (in other words, Godspeed),
The lessons I learned below are only lessons because I’m a struggling nube. If you have more to add, please let me know in comments!
What is your take on awards in general? I think it’s nice to get recognition, but some of the most wonderful movies don’t get the attention they deserve and some truly awful or fair to middling ones get far more attention than they deserve.
I don’t put much stock in awards in terms of the kinds of movies that I should watch and gain inspiration from.
Anyways, here what I got:
Producers feel pressure too. There’s a whole lot of money riding on this stuff.
Production issues are far more unpredictable than distribution issues.
The greatest moments are when a movie exceeds expectations – does that mean that we shouldn’t give them high hopes?
They are just terrified of their hard work going to waste. Difference is – their hard work involves tons of disappointed people.
People say that it’s just business, it’s not personal. Movie choices are hugely personal.
What do Academy Awards mean to producers? The achievement of the good life. The achievement of something great in the eyes of your peers.
The difference between profit-loss for independent films.
It starts always with falling in love with the material (that’s our job!) Then the analyses happen.
Once that material has caught you, you find ways to try and make rather than not.
However, there are some movies that are just marketing fodder and some that are all about the execution.
It’s a combination of passion and the amount of financial risk that that project can bear that configures on whether the film can get greenlit. Life of Pi got greenlit because a) Ang Lee got involved and b) The passion of the…someone?
What is the cultural zeitgeist? Hurt Locker didn’t do as well because America wasn’t ready to watch war as entertainment.
Awards season is much like political campaigning. If the Academy hadn’t put caps on it, it would go bananas.
So I’ve been on this radical rest trip. Of the many things I wanted to do (see a LOT of movies. Eat ice-cream. Take long walks), one of them was write, with no chance of success.
No chance of success. What does that mean to me?
That means that no one will see my work and tell me it’s wonderful. No one will ever release it in any way to the public – it will be never be published, painted, sculpted or filmed. It may even never be seen by eyes other than mine. If so, perhaps by uncomprehending eyes.
This is a highly emotionally fraught belief I have about my work. The message my work communicates must be understood. If not, I have ‘failed’.
But I continued to write anyway, focusing on the outcome, this time not of success, but of failure. It seemed important to me to get used to failure. All the great creative minds in the world suffered thousands of failures before finally getting it right. I wanted to lessen the pain of failure, train myself to get the right perspective, to learn the lessons, rather than whinge, whine, mope and despair.
So I wrote a poem, a far-too-personal, far-too-esoteric, far-too-emotional poem about my husband. I knew that if I read it to him, there wasn’t much chance that he’d understand. But I wrote it anyway.
I continued to read an incredible book on characterization and did some of the creative exercises.
In adulthood, study is considered a waste of time unless there are monetary rewards. In childhood, it is considered a waste of time unless there are system-generated rewards such as grades and certificates.
But the true reward of study is putting what you learn into practice – when the surgeon saves a life, when the graphic designer designs a book, when the journalist publishes a controversial world-changing new story.
But the system trains us to look for short-term gains – grades, certificates or monthly salaries.
This makes studying in adulthood really arduous. Without those regular accolades, it is much harder for me to maintain momentum though learning the ropes is essential for my craft.
I feel my chest constricting with the desire to do more. To achieve more. To be everything to everyone. To get that pat on the back, that glowing review. To bake that banana flan, visit all my aunts and uncles, take care of my in-laws and my husband and in the meantime, write an award-winning screenplay. And of course, look stunning when I go to my relative’s wedding.
My body fills with pain again and my head becomes cloudy. But now thankfully, I’ve learned to recognize the signs and stop myself before my head gets too big.
Oddly enough, just after I wrote this, I went looking for TED talks on success and motivation. I found this fascinating one by Mr. Dan Pink. Carrots and sticks just don’t work for 21st-century lateral-thinking problems. But intrinsic factors, my freedom, my degree of skill, my level of service to others; that’s what keeps us coming back to work. That throws all of the jobs I’ve ever had into sharp relief.
This leads to the biggest and worst lie I’ve ever been told: That I am talented. True, my friends, my teachers, they probably all meant well, but the fact of the matter is the word ‘talented’ contains a connotation. A connotation that I am somehow above the rest. That perhaps that I do not need to work as hard. That a little of what I do goes the long way.
At least this is the belief that my arrogant talentless backside has had for a long while now.
I have had a false sense of entitlement. I am talented. They must hire me. I am talented. They must be excited by my short screenplay. I am talented. Of course I can write a feature.
WRONG.
I am a novice and I need to study. Talent might be inherent but skill needs to be learned. Talent is the sword but skill is the sharpening stone. Talent might be the beer, but skill is the funnel (I know that’s a haraam metaphor). My point is, talent is nothing without skill. And I don’t got no skills yet, son.
Writing this blog post was a mistake because it is definitely a short-term gain. When I hit publish, it’s ‘published’. But I am going to force myself to wait till it’s the right time to publish it.
I did however read the poem to my husband. He was very touched. And he understood every word.
That’s the best success I’ve ever had.
May Allah (subhaana wa ta’aala) bless you for your time.
I am going to do something I don’t do enough. I am going to be honest.
Brother and sister, I am truly too exhausted to make art.
It’s been a draining couple of years. My life has felt like a train-wreck and I have been trying desperately with my petty mortal hands to control it.
I have expected situations to be different but they haven’t been. I have expected people to behave a certain way but they haven’t. Things have changed when I had hoped they would stay the same. Things have stayed the same when I have prayed they would change. But the details are unimportant.
My feelings are not. I have disappointed, sometimes angry, exhausted all the time.
I’m sleeping like crazy. I can’t eat. I can’t think. I have absolutely no creative energy to tackle anything long-form like a screenplay or a novel. The thought of a deadline makes me want to vomit.
Alhamdulillah I have written some poetry, though.
I think it’s about time that I took an extended period of rest. Regroup my spirits, learn to forgive myself and others, find my footing a little maybe. Or learn to just let it slide and accept Allah (SWT)’s plan for me.
As soon as I say that though, some strange demon in the depths of my belly stands jumping up and down, making scratch marks in my inside, shouting with the voices of my parents, a thousand teachers from over the years.
“You have no right to relax! People like you, less-than-geniuses, have to work your butts off to get anywhere – I mean ANYWHERE! – in life! Full tension every day all the time! That’s the price you pay for being born the way you are.
What have you achieved in your adult life? Nothing.
Has your writing changed anyone’s life? No. Not even your own.”
(This is not true. I’ve discovered a lot of things about myself and others through my work. Though it has been private, it has definitely been transformative.)
“Have you made your mark on the world? Like your heroes, Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye and Ani DiFranco? Have you made any of those mind-blowing films you keep dreaming of? Have you rivaled Mr. Scorsese or Mr. Kauffman? “
(Is it really necessary for me to change the world? I thought my work was for Allah (SWT). Then it simply is what it is, the story truer than the truth. It’s my duty to tell it, whether anyone cares to listen or not. Whether it changes anything or not.)
“What don’t you have enough of? Time.
What are you getting? Older. You’re 25 years old, 26 next month. Every day brings you closer to middle age and motherhood. Increased responsibilities, lower energy levels and your already poor time management skills will simply fall apart under the pressure.”
I ask real people for advice and it is always conflicting.
“You’re trying too hard.”
“You’re not working hard or smart enough.”
“You’re too young.”
“You’re too old.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“You’re resting too much on your laurels.”
I find myself facing a mountain. Make this film. Write this screenplay. Find collaborators who are as excited about your work as you are. And for a while, I feel energetic. But then something happens, not really a discrete incident but just something else. Something outside of me. Maybe my father calls and or my mother or some boring administrative task takes up my entire day and my body just sinks beneath despair.
I feel like the world doesn’t want me to write or create. Perhaps Allah (SWT) is trying to tell me that my destiny is to be mediocre and house-bound like a not particularly cute cat.
I find myself fighting with the people I love. Not being able to tell them how I feel. How lost, alone and confused.
It’s time I took a little time off from the rat-race insha Allah. Whatever I’ve been doing hasn’t been working. This means finding a new path. Maybe recalibrating my beliefs. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop writing. On the contrary, I think the fact that I’ve written so little has contributed to my exhaustion.
I’ll worship a lot more. I need it more than I think.
I’ll exercise too. Take long walks in nature. Run around after children (will somebody please lend me their children kthx), kung fu, kickboxing, aerobics maybe.
I’ll spend a lot of time outside of my comfort zone, especially when it comes to people and my interactions with them. Maybe I’ll try explaining spoken-word to my husband LOL. Yesterday, I showed him “When Love Arrives” and his mind just went blank.
And yes I think I will spend a lot of time writing. I will try insha Allah to rediscover the play in art, try to refill the well a little bit. Maybe I will work on a long-term project but as something fun, not as something that’s ever going to see the light of day.
I’m not going to be telling you how it’s going because the aim is not for it to be going anywhere.
I’m just going to be myself for a while. I’m going to find out what that means insha Allah.
