Welcome to the Screening Room
Hi, and welcome! You love films. Now you'd like to know how they work, and how to talk about them without feeling like a fraud. That's what this course is for.
We'll start with the most basic question there is. How does a film tell you a story?
You might think the answer is easy. Things happen, and the film shows you. But there's a gap between what happens and what you're shown, and the craft of filmmaking happens in that gap. Let's take a look.
Story and Plot: Two Different Things
Here's the first big idea, and it's one we'll come back to all through the course.
The story is everything that happens, in the order it happens. That includes things you never actually see.
The plot is what the film actually shows you, and the order it shows it in.
Film scholars David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson put it neatly in their textbook Film Art: the story is what happens, and the plot is how it's told. You may also come across the older Russian terms for the pair, fabula (story) and syuzhet (plot). You don't need to remember those, but it's nice to recognise them.
Think of a friend telling you about a disastrous holiday. They might start with "So I ended up sleeping in an airport..." and then go back to explain how. The events haven't changed. The telling has. And the telling is what keeps you hooked.
Want an extreme example? Take Memento (Christopher Nolan, 2000). Its hero, Leonard, can't form new memories. The film cuts between black-and-white scenes that run forwards and colour scenes that run backwards, and the two strands meet at the end. So you see what happens before you know why. You end up as confused as Leonard is. Nolan reportedly wrote the script in order first, then rearranged it. Same story, very different plot.
Or think of Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941). It opens with a powerful man dying and saying one mysterious word. Then a reporter goes around interviewing the people who knew him, and we see Kane's life in flashbacks, through their memories. The story runs from childhood to death. The plot starts at the death and jumps around in time.
So whenever you watch a film, ask yourself two things. What actually happened? And why has the film chosen to show it to me this way?
Character: Someone Who Wants Something
What drives most stories forward? A character who wants something.
The main character, or protagonist, usually has a goal. In their way are obstacles. The plot is largely the push and pull between the two.
Take The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939). What does Dorothy want? Simple. She wants to get home to Kansas. She's told that only the Wizard in the Emerald City can help her. That's her goal.
And the obstacles? There's the long road, the strange land, and above all the Wicked Witch of the West, who's after the ruby slippers Dorothy is wearing. Notice, too, that her companions each want something of their own: a brain, a heart, courage. Supporting characters with their own goals give a story extra layers.
Obstacles come in different flavours. Some are outside the character: a villain, a storm, a deadline. Others are inside: fear, pride, a secret. The best films often mix both.
Here's a tip. When you're stuck on how to describe a film, finish this sentence: "The main character wants ___, but ___ stands in the way." You'll be surprised how often that unlocks it.
Point of View: Whose Eyes Are You Looking Through?
Now for the third piece. In any scene, ask yourself: whose point of view am I sharing? And how much do I know compared with the characters?
Sometimes a film keeps you tightly with one character. You learn things when they do, so you share their surprises. Other times it lets you see more than any character can, and that creates a different feeling altogether.
Alfred Hitchcock explained this beautifully in his long interview with François Truffaut, later published as the book Hitchcock/Truffaut. Imagine two people chatting at a table, he said, and a hidden bomb suddenly goes off. You get a few seconds of surprise. Now imagine you saw someone plant the bomb, and you can see a clock ticking towards the moment it goes off. The same dull chat becomes unbearable to watch. That's suspense. And it comes purely from you knowing more than the characters do.
Jaws (Steven Spielberg, 1975) plays with point of view all the time. Police chief Martin Brody wants to close the beaches after a shark attack, but the mayor talks him out of it, worried about the summer trade. So you're with Brody, nervous, while everyone else relaxes. And at times the camera glides under the water, among the swimmers' legs, as if we were the shark. Spielberg barely shows the creature itself. Putting you in its point of view is scarier.
Your Viewing Task
Watch the first half hour of Jaws, paying special attention to the crowded beach sequence where Brody sits on the sand watching the water. Then ask yourself:
- What is Brody's goal in this scene, and what stands in his way?
- Whose point of view are you sharing, moment to moment? Does it ever switch?
- Do you know more, less or the same as Brody? How does that make you feel?
- Can you spot anything the story includes that the plot doesn't directly show you?
Jot your answers down. There are no wrong ones. The point is just to start noticing.
Key Takeaways
- Story is everything that happens; plot is what the film shows you, and in what order.
- Rearranging the plot, as Memento and Citizen Kane do, changes how you experience the same story.
- Most stories are driven by a character's goal and the obstacles, outer and inner, in their way.
- Point of view controls what you know, and that shapes how you feel.
- Knowing more than the characters creates suspense; knowing less sets you up for surprise.