Okay, so yesterday I started talking
about immersiveness in fiction. Writing has fairly simple rules for
that, but what about more intricate forms of fiction?
In cinematic formats (TV and movies),
words take a step back, and become primarily vehicles of plot, while
the visuals and audio effects take over the descriptive aspects of
storytelling. Flow and immersiveness in a cinematic format relies on
much more than the selection of words and construction of sentences,
paragraphs and chapters.
In a cinematic format, to the abilities
of the writers, we add the skills of the actors, the technicians of
multiple stripes, camerapersons, editors, directors, and a host of
others. It is not the work of a single person, but that of dozens or
hundreds, sometimes more. And all of this must come together in a
way where the medium and its requirements and challenges does not
interfere with the telling of the story.
Since part of the purpose of stories is
to take the audience on an emotional journey, there are three types
of scenes in cinematic pieces that are especially useful for analysis
in terms of flow. These are the scare, the laugh and the sex scene.
Startling someone is easy. Let them
sit quietly for a while, and then pop out of the nearest bush. But
scaring someone is much more difficult. This is a problem that all
horror writers have had to deal with since the genre was invented
some time around the beginning of language. In order to startle, one
must only surprise. In order to scare, one must build an atmosphere
of tension and threat prior to the moment of fright.
But in order for the tension to mean
anything, there must be a release. That is the pattern of fiction,
of storytelling, of life itself when it is at its best and worst.
Building tension involves creating the immersion. Release involves
breaking the immersion in a very specific way. Unfortunately, this
means that after the release, one's audience is actually pulled out
of the story. Adrenalin is very hard to ignore.
In horror, it is the moment of fright,
the jump, the cat leaping out of the closet. In humor, it is the
punchline. For both humor and horror, one can build a pattern of
tension and release that is either done well (Rear
Window, Airplane!)
or poorly (Hostel,
any Will Farrell movie). Do it well, and you have something that
will affect people, do it poorly, and nobody remembers the title.
The
problem for the writers/directors is the moment after the fright or
punchline. You have just taken your audience out of the immersion by
physiological means. Both fear and laughter put the body in a state
where it is more aware of itself and its surroundings than when it is
calm and immersed. Which is why horror movies must go for brief
frights and comedies have to make sure to wait for the laugh to
subside before continuing with the story.
Sex
scenes have a different problem. In public, it is acceptable to be
frightened, it is acceptable to laugh. It is not acceptable in most
places to have an orgasm, which is the obvious release aspect of the
tension/release cycle in a piece of erotic fiction. And so Hollywood
has found that sex scenes can have two effects. One, it can, and
often does, cheapen the movie, simply because the nudity and/or sex
has more to do with displaying bodies than telling a story. Two, it
can, although rarely does, elevate a piece, using nudity and sex to
truly tell us part of the story. Which is why there are respected
actors (male and female) on both sides of the “I will/I won't”
fence.
But it
all comes down to flow. Pull me down the road smoothly enough, with
not too much or too little in the way of beauty, poetry and elevated
acting (or nipples), and it will work. Take a mediocre story, and
tell it in an immersive way, and it will be enjoyed. Take
Shakespeare and tell it in such a way that I keep noticing the rubber
masks and stage directions, and it will not.
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