SILENCE IS GOLDEN

A couple of years ago, I was sitting in a film school class, receiving feedback for a script that I wrote. Reception was fairly positive and people were nice. However, one particular criticism really crept up on me and kicked me in the butt. My classmates said that my protagonist felt invisible to them -- that she wasn't as out there or interesting as the other characters in the script. This note really vexed me. Okay... she was a quiet, almost silent character, but that didn't mean she was supposed to be uninteresting. She was the protagonist... How could she not be fascinating?

Then, a few months later, I was watching the DVD commentary on the THE LITTLE MERMAID. In it, directors John Musker and Ron Clements mentioned something along the lines of how when they were developing their script, people felt that their protagonist, Ariel, wasn't a very strong presence... that she didn't really pop in the script. Musker and Clements told such doubters to wait and see what happened on screen.

And SEE, they did. After watching THE LITTLE MERMAID, it's difficult to imagine that Ariel was ever a character that lacked "presence," or that she was passive and uninteresting. I think she's one of the most easily accessible characters in all of cinema, but that's just me.

It's fascinating to note, however, that (having traded her voice to an evil sea witch) Ariel is silent for nearly the entire second half of the movie.

I'm not comparing my skills as a screenwriter to those of the Disney story department that birthed an entire animation renaissance...

... but I don't think it's a coinkydink that we got the same notes on our scripts. I DO think it's hard to convey a character who doesn't say very much, and whose primary actions are movements and facial expressions. Limited to mere verbs and descriptive words on a page, it's hard to transmit to a reader or an audience the feelings of silent characters. This is all because the dramatic potency of a person who speaks very little lies in the realm of the SEEN.

Oftentimes, I think we (especially writers) tend to forget that the film medium began in silence without the benefit of dialogue to help get ideas across. In an environment where the ante is constantly being upped with big, loud, perilous action sequences and ever-evolving 3-dimensional lushness, we can forget the sheer power of a person's face -- of glances and stifled smiles.

Cool camera moves or 3-dimensionality can only be as riveting as the subject matter that they are capturing -- and few subjects are as engaging (or confounding) as a human being in conflict, particularly if that human being is in conflict within him/herself.

The main purpose for my writing this blog entry is not to preach or nag, but to celebrate and advocate. Though they may not necessarily "pop" on the page, silent or quiet characters are a total asset to movies. And darn it, I just love watching them. I feel more for a character who I SEE trying to hide his tears than I do for one who tells me that he feels bad. This is the very nature of subtext (you know that thing where people never say what they mean, or mean what they say). The whole reason for subtext and the like is that we don't trust what we're told. Rather, we glom onto what we see -- what we can interpret for ourselves... the very stuff that makes film a truly splendid medium.

If you've made it this far into the entry, you're probably scratching your head, wondering if these ramblings have some sort of REAL point. Here--

Recently, to increase my Disney buff-dom, I watched all the studio's 2D animated "classics" in chronological order. Of the many staggering conclusions that I drew from this study, one left a nice impression on me.

Plain and simple -- many Disney films are among our culture's most memorable. Why? For the same reason that Charlie Chaplin's films endure today. They rest their hats on non-verbal communication -- the physical language, the universal language... the language that can easily be dubbed for release in other countries. It's facial expressions, body language and glorious songs that reveal the contents of one's soul and innermost desires. The reason Disney films (at their best) are so undeniably resonant and popular is that they utilize the two original facets of filmmaking -- image and music. No punches pulled.




After thinking about Dumbo's self-esteem issues, about Tinkerbell's quiet shift in morality, about Dopey's puppy-like innocence, and yes... about Ariel's voiceless yearning... I came to the conjecture that the movies of today should each have at least one silent (or quiet) presence...

But then I thought about some recent awesome film characters like SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE's Jamal Malik, or Benjamin Button, or even BLACK SWAN's Nina Sayers -- characters who keep it on the inside, who have feelings and desires that are ripping at the seams, waiting to come out...

And through all of it, I realize that most of the people who can get a movie made have some sense of what they're doing. They pepper their films with brilliant silent moments -- even if it takes a little more effort to spot them. So maybe I should stop theorizing about what's best for cinema and, like the characters that I so cherish, just keep my yap shut.

On that note, ciao for now.