No amateur script today so I thought I’d discuss yesterday’s article about opening scenes, as well as post the winner of the scene contest! But first, I want to comment on a few of the things commenters noted.
“Flash-forward opening scenes are a cliche.” – I believe the commenter was trying to say that crazy mysterious flash-forward openers are cliche and hollow, a cheap trick to grab our interest before cutting to the past where, surprise surprise, a much slower and less interesting story unfolds. I agree with this. Those were not the scenes I had in mind when I wrote yesterday’s article. If the only way for you to pull me in is to flash forward to an exciting scene that will happen later in your screenplay, you’re not doing this right. Flash-forwards and flash-backs should always be your last option. See if you can create interest out of a linear situation first. Because unless you’ve written the greatest flash-forward opener ever, or it’s clear that there’s a reason why you started us in the future, I’m going to be skeptical of your ability to tell a compelling linear story.
“The opening scene is just a scene.” – MulesandMud had some excellent notes yesterday on how dramatic questions work. If you didn’t read his comment, make sure to. What he’s basically saying is that you shouldn’t just be asking dramatic questions in your opening scene. You should be asking dramatic questions in every scene. What I was trying to say was that if there isn’t a dramatic question posed in the opening scene, it usually means the writer doesn’t understand drama. And if they can’t hook you in the first 5 pages, how in the world are they going to keep you hooked for an entire screenplay? So yeah, even after you’ve finished that dramatic-question opening scene, don’t stop posing questions. Keep asking them in as many scenes as possible. That’s how you’ll keep us hooked.
“Each screenplay is unique.” – There will never be a screenwriting tip that universally fits every script. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about this craft, it’s that every time you write a new script, you face new challenges that require you to do things you’ve never done before, some of those going against the very guidelines you’ve based your writing foundation on. For example, I always recommend you give your hero a memorable opening scene. But due to the unique challenges of some stories, you might not be able to do that. You could’ve made the opening of Die Hard a lot more interesting if the plane John McClane was on lost control and McClane had to save it. But then you lose the “ordinary man” quality that makes the rest of the movie work so well. My point being, I would prefer a dramatic question to open your script. It’s the easiest way to hook the reader. But if you’ve chosen an idea that doesn’t mesh well with that approach, don’t force it. Do what the script is telling you to do.
Okay, on to yesterday’s winning scene! This comes from Lucid Walk. The script is titled Under The Vultures and is a cowboy-zombie mash-up. I really liked the scene. I thought it did everything I talked about. The only issue I had with the scene (spoiler alert) was that the heroine was saved by a deus-ex-machina. Always always always try to get your main characters to solve the big problems on their own. Not only is it good writing, but it’ll make your audience fall in love with your hero like you wouldn’t believe. Minor quibble though. The rest of the scene was great!
FADE IN:
EXT. FOREST – NIGHT
A heavy deluge of rain pelts WENDY MCQUAIL (27) as she bounds through the heart of a lush forest.
She is an innocent beauty, garbed in a blood-spattered pioneer dress, clutching a double-barreled shotgun.
SUPER: MONTANA, 1872
Wendy stops behind a tree, panting rapidly.
Lightning flashes. Thunder ROLLS.
A SHRIEK fills the air — high-pitched, ghastly — like the wails of a banshee mixed with the cries of a dying animal.
Wendy opens the gun’s chamber, only one shell left.
Another SHRIEK, closer.
Wendy closes the chamber — KACHICK! She takes a deep breath, her eyes filled with fear.
She steps around the tree, risks a peek.
Lightning flashes. Thunder ROLLS. And then —
THREE FIGURES burst out of the wet bushes.
Their flesh pale and rotten. Blood oozes out of their mouths. Their eyes burn bright yellow like jewels from hell.
And we’ll call them what they are — ZOMBIES.
The zombies linger, scanning the area for their prey.
Wendy watches them from the cover of the tree. Her eyes fixed on the undead monsters, she doesn’t notice…
A HULKING FIGURE approaches her from behind.
The zombies SHRIEK with anger, defeated in their search. They sprint into the foliage, out of sight.
Wendy sinks against the tree, sighs in relief.
A low GROWL.
Wendy swivels to the sound and sees…
An UNDEAD GRIZZLY BEAR stalks out of the darkness.
A hellish beast of intense size. Its furry hide is torn open, exposing its grisly rib cage. Its intestines drag through the wet mud. Blood drools out of its serrated fangs.
The bear’s yellow eyes leer at Wendy.
The shotgun falls to the ground.
Wendy gapes at the monster, frozen with fear.
The bear bellows a tremendous ROAR.
Wendy snaps out of it, goes for the shotgun —
The bear lunges —
BANG! — a gunshot ECHOES amidst the heavy storm, reverberating throughout the forest.
THE THREE ZOMBIES
whirl around, charge in the direction of the shot.
They find the BEAR collapsed in the dirt, its head blasted into a million pieces of brain matter and bone fragments.
The empty shotgun lays beside the bear carcass.
No sign of Wendy.
Once again, the zombies scan the area.
UNDER THE BEAR CARCASS
lies Wendy, completely hidden.
The bear’s entrails slime her body. She shields her mouth from the foul stench, silences her breathing.
She lies still and quiet…listening, waiting, hoping.
Suddenly, the carcass jerks back and forth.
Wendy’s eyes widen in shock.
THE ZOMBIES
shred into the carcass like a piñata. Cold fingers plunge into the exposed rib cage. They gorge on handfuls of rotten innards.
The zombies chew their way through the carcass…oblivious of who lies underneath…getting closer to her nonetheless.
WENDY
closes her eyes. She’s trapped, helpless, alone.
Fresh tears stream down her face —
BANG! BANG!
The carcass goes still. Wendy opens her eyes.
TWO THUDS as two zombies hit the ground.
The last zombie SHRIEKS.
Wendy stays still, listens intently.
Mud SPLASHES —
Thunder BOOMS —
A sickening THWACK —
The zombie SHRIEKS —
Another THWACK —
THUD as the last zombie hits the ground. And then…
Silence. Nothing else as the heavy rain SPLATS the earth.
Wendy remains still, waiting until it’s safe.
MOMENTS LATER
Wendy emerges from under the carcass. The rainwater rinses the bear’s muck off her body. Her eyes glide over the dead zombies.
Two have bullet holes through their brains. As for the third, the grip of an empty revolver has been clubbed into its left eye socket.
The yellow light has faded from their eyes.
Wendy turns around as a flash of lightning reveals —
HARLAN ELLSWORTH (35) lies slumped against a tree, breathing heavily. He is a charismatic gunslinger with the makings of a tamed wolf — reliable, but dangerous.
WENDY
Oh, my God.
Harlan notices Wendy, tips his hat with a smile. It takes all of his strength to speak.
HARLAN
Oh. Howdy, ma’am.
Wendy hurries to Harlan’s side. He struggles to keep his eyes open. Pain and exhaustion take their toll.
WENDY
Sir, are you alright?
Harlan chuckles.
HARLAN
Not particularly.
Wendy looks down and gasps. A red smear of blood blossoms the inside of his shirt.
HARLAN
Now don’t you go worryin’ yourself, it ain’t a bite. But you are welcome to verify.
Wendy gulps. She cautiously lifts up his shirt, reveals a small hole burst outward on his torso, oozing blood.
WENDY
Sir, you were shot?
HARLAN
Lovely, ain’t it? Right in the back, and right out the gut.
An undead SHRIEK resonates in the distance. Harlan and Wendy turn towards the sound.
HARLAN
‘Course, that ain’t nothin’ compared to what they can do.
WENDY
Can you walk?
HARLAN
More or less.
He groans as he attempts to stand, using the tree for support.
HARLAN
But as to how far, I can’t say.
Wendy throws his arm around her shoulders, helps him up.
WENDY
There’s a trading post just through these trees. We can make it.
Another distant SHRIEK.
HARLAN
We damn well better.
Wendy helps Harlan walk. He groans again, covers his mouth.
WENDY
What’s wrong?
HARLAN
Apologies, ma’am, but you reek.
Wendy can’t help but laugh. She glances at the bear carcass.
WENDY
Yes, well, desperate times.
She and Harlan disappear into the woods.
The thunderous storm RAGES on, drowns out the distant sound of horrible SHRIEKS.
FADE TO BLACK
