How to Write Moving Picture Plays (1915)

HOW TO WRITE MOVING PICTURE PLAYS 21 morbid ending, and they do this for the sake of variety; but my suggestion to YOU is to let others write this kind. Try to keep audience wondering and guessing just how story will end; keep up the suspense, throw obstacles in the way of the hero or heroine to make things look dark for success, then bring in the climax as a happy and satisfying surprise. After the climax, close your story as quickly as possible. The story has been told, audience knows that Anthony and Geraldine are married and will probably live happily ever afterward; and there should be no reason to carry story farther. Above all, remember that the best climax may be preceded by the poorest play. The most thrilling climax imaginable will be lost to the world, and never thrill, if the audience has been put to sleep by fifteen minutes of monotonous action awaiting the two minutes of thrills. Section 24.— LIMITATIONS OF THE CAMERA. Remember that these pictures are not drawn by hand; they are photographed, and it is therefore advisable to make the work of the producers as easy as possible. It would be rather hard to photograph a battle between two submarine boats, a struggle between two men in a balloon in midair, or a man jumping from the top of the Washington Monument. Neither should you lay your scene in Paris, Mammoth Cave, or Yellowstone Park, and send it to some New York or Chicago producer, unless you have been advised that they have a temporary studio at that particular point. A producer will often send his company to some such point in order to get the proper locale, or color, for a good play, going to much expense to produce it with the right effect; but our advice to the amateur is to make their work easy, laying your scenes in a way that will not be difficult to produce, and if your plays bear merit, they will certainly gain a quicker acceptance. If you are able to write a good play that can be produced almost entirely with the interior stage settings of the studio, it will gain a quicker acceptance than if it consists of a large variety of scenes, including, say, a river bank, a jail-cell, a mountain peak, an ocean liner, a Pullman dining-car, and a telephone exchange. Of course, all of these scenes can be visited and scenes photographed at each place, being necessary to many good plays; but if the young writer can start by lightening the work of the producer, his chances are better. Do not depict impossible situations. Don’t draw a scene where a train runs over a cow, causing a law suit. Cows, as a general thing, are not very good actors, and might object to your idea, no matter how worthy your ambition. Don’t have a heroine rescued from a watery grave as she is sinking for the last time; the hero might lose his grasp and the heroine her life in attempting to produce the right effect. Don’t have a lion chasing a horse through the jungle. The horse might pay no attention to his cue, and the lion might chase the moving picture operator up a tree instead. Do not write a story of an express train crashing into a siding and tearing another train into splinters. I admit that we often see these intensely dramatic productions, and if your play is particularly clever, the company MAY go to the enormous expense of wrecking two trains, or may ask the leading lady to risk her life in pretending to drown; but my aim in these instructions is to advise the aspiring writer how to meet with his FIRST successes; after this is accomplished he can then attempt the more elaborate productions. REMEMBER THAT A PLAY EASILY PRODUCED IS FAR MORE LIABLE TO BE ACCEPTED THAN ONE REQUIRING THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS TO STAGE. It is amusing how some young writers place no limit whatever upon the possibilities of the camera. One writer starts, “Moonlight scene, heaven covered with stars; a meteor falls.” Now, how on earth is the poor camera-man going to follow these directions? He has no control of the heavens; and, even if his powers were unlimited, should he be requested to set his camera on a moonlight night and with his hand on the crank await the falling of a meteor? Another starts, “Scene 12, The Titanic at bottom of ocean.” (Scenario editor gasps for breath and lays aside the manuscript.) Another goes to the trouble of stretching a rope from top to top of two skyscrapers on Broadway, and has two rope-walkers, rivals for the same girl, fight a duel with swords. Imagine! Pardon the slang expression of Mr. Editor, who returned manuscript with notation across this scene, “For the love of Mike, be reasonable.” Section 25.— LENGTH OF PLAY. It takes approximately twenty minutes to produce a onereel play, about forty minutes for a double reel, one hour for three reels, etc. Your longest scene should not take over three minutes to produce; the play will become tiresome if same scene is on the screen longer than this. The number of scenes for a one-reel play depends upon the length of the scenes. One scene may take four minutes and the next scene thirty seconds. It is impossible to tell just how long it will take to produce the play you have written. The only way by which you can get a fair idea as to this is to read over the play very slowly, allowing about the time you think it will take for the scene action, also allowing about the right time for the reading of each leader, and see how long it takes you to read the play through in this manner. Remember that you are not restricted to any certain number of scenes or words; the stage directors can supply a few minor scenes if the play is too short, or eliminate a few if the play is too long. The length of play is not determined by the number of scenes nor by the number of pages manuscript contains, but ONLY BY THE LENGTH OF TIME IT TAKES TO ACT IT. One play of forty scenes may take only twenty minutes to act, while another of only ten scenes may take fully twenty minutes also. For example : “Scene 7. John enters — hears noise — hurriedly exits.” This scene would probably take ten seconds. But supposing John is not so easily frightened and stops to investigate, finds a burglar, grapples with him, etc. This scene would perhaps take two or three minutes. (See difference in length of scenes 14 and 15 in sample play.) The only possible way to judge the length is to take your watch, note the time, imagine title is thrown on screen, allow about the usual time given to a title; then start with first scene, not merely reading it, but imagine you can see the characters coming and going, allowing for each pause, gesture, and expression; allow sufficient time for reading of each leader, letter, or clipping, and with a little practice you can soon learn to determine the approximate time it will take to act the play. Should it be two or three minutes undertimed or overtimed, it does not matter. Directors themselves cannot tell exactly, by reading a script, just how long it will take to act it. They will often add a scene or eliminate one, if necessary.