The two fields—of fiction writing and photoplay writing—diverge into opposite directions the moment we discuss the narration of one and the visualization of the other. In fiction narration, we resort unequivocally to words to express our inmost vision and weave our story; in the photoplay our words merely indicate the line of action. The effectiveness to be gained thru descriptive writing is barred to us; we must confine our description to a line at the head of each scene. Fine paragraphs on introspection, or mental agony, or deep feeling are helpless, unless they have their counterpart in vivid action. Artistic narration is a handicap; expressive vocabulary is essential. We must express ourselves, then, in terms of action rather than in periods of rhetoric.
But does not the absence of the spoken word make it easier to give expression to the universal language of the heart? All motives and emotions must be made to appear on the surface. Even sounds must be silently, yet effectively, portrayed. The music artist peoples the imagination of his audience with a glorious phantasmagoria. There is a music of vision that delights the beholder of motion and action, typifying life, health and sanity. We have only to give photoplay art its premise and we may find it ranked among the muses. In artistic photodrama we perceive with the ears of the heart and the soul, gifted, it would seem, with a new soul organ. The day of the skilled spectator must follow the dawn of the art of the ideal interpreter.
Here we do not want that mechanics of motion which labors and creaks, revealing the machine; but rather that poetry of silent action which translates itself emotionally into visualized motive and visible drama.
CHAPTER III
Parts of the Photoplay and Their
Purposes
TITLE; SYNOPSIS; CAST OF CHARACTERS; AUTHOR’S REMARKS; SCENARIO; SCENE; SCENE-PLOT.
WE find the presentation of the photoplay in manuscript differing widely from that of both fiction and stage drama, in that it represents a mechanical point of view. Whereas the entire fiction manuscript is submitted verbatim as it will appear before the reader, and the stage play manuscript contains every word as it will be heard by the audience, the photoplay manuscript contains only a few lines of captions and possibly several inserts which alone of the actual manuscript will appear on the screen.
The first item that appears on the manuscript, the title, is coming more and more to be regarded from its literary and story-fulfilling point of view. We must ever bear it in mind, however, chiefly as a commercial asset. First, will it attract and reach the pocketbook of the hesitating public and add a drawing power to the poster displayed in front of the theater? Second, will it successfully compete with the ever-increasing number of releases brought to the attention of the exhibitor to choose for his daily or weekly change of program? Third—and in a lesser degree—will it appeal to the photoplay editor because of its promise of high-class literary or dramatic material? It is possible in nine cases out of ten to combine all these desirable features, but not without careful thought.
The synopsis of the photoplay is something more than a mere synopsis, it is an abridgment, a condensation of the scene contents. To write a perfect synopsis requires the exercise of rare literary skill. By this is not meant rhetorical flow, but the power of such a choice and command of words that enables the writer to reduce possibly several thousand words of instructive scenario to a few hundred words of suggestive synopsis without missing a single essential point. There must be a style of telling the photoplay story that is terse, crisp and suggestive. There is a studio convention that seems to have limited the length of the synopsis to 250 words. It is unfair to make a hard-and-fast rule governing the synopsis, for the reason that most aspirants get an erroneous impression. Experience demonstrates that most clean-cut, vivid plots may be perfectly delineated in a synopsis of even less than 100 words. On the other hand, the power of the slight play made great thru pure dramatic artistry would suffer from a too brief synopsis. The refined emotional play free from all the coarser strain of exaggerated melodrama and sensational spectacle would sacrifice its finer points if it did not touch upon them and reveal their beauty in the synopsis. Employ as few words as you can to amplify and completely tell the abridged story of your play!
The synopsis is designed primarily for the convenience of the editor or reader who takes up your manuscript with a view to its acceptability. The synopsis is its recommendation. If it does not tell him all its dramatic possibilities in a brief space, its opportunity is lost, for the editor seldom has time or inclination to peruse the scenario. Should the manuscript meet with acceptance, the synopsis is thereafter used as a guide for the director.