The foundation of every film is the screenplay. So why do so many movies feel like there wasn't a screenplay at all?
We've discussed the concept of "story" before. At least, I assume we have. Is there any abstract writing concept I haven't elaborated and pontificated on ad infinitum? Well, to be uncharacteristically succinct, a story is the narrative telling of an event or series of events through mediums such as art, music, and, of course, writing. A story doesn't necessarily need a coherent beginning, middle, and end, but it requires some sort of infrastructure in order to sufficiently express its intended theme or moral. While we've mostly discussed stories as they appear in novels or short fiction, we have only briefly touched upon the importance of story in film. One might argue film is a medium entirely separate from writing, but they can't argue that writing is the foundation of traditional film (for arthouse movies that rely primarily on visuals and score, I assume the only writing done is a long-winded, scholarly interpretation of what the reds here and the blues there represent. Sometimes colors are just colors, guys.)
Most movies begin with an idea (which in most cases was derived from another idea). The idea is then translated into a screenplay, although some animated films never have screenplays: they are constructed entirely from storyboards, a fascinating vehicle for storytelling. But for most films, the screenplay is the true vessel for what will eventually become a visual experience--unless, of course, your screenplay fails to sell. A screenplay, in its essence, is a denuded novel: the fat is trimmed, the aureate language is replaced with straightforward sentence fragments, and the dialogue, if there is any, is presented without decorum (save for the occasional descriptive modifier). However, the story remains. It may be a touch scattered and the theme a little hamfisted since the use of figurative language is hard to translate onto the screen, but it is still a story. Just told a little differently.
That's why book-to-movie adaptations are so ubiquitous: they're easy to write. Even a greenhorn can take a novel, discard the unnecessary subplots and characters, and fashion the prose into a ready-to-produce screenplay. Sure, the act of translating from page to screen can be dicey and the people involved essentially invite criticism from impassioned book fanatics (one only has to comb briefly through the Internet to find outcry over book adaptations, from Harry Potter to The Fault In Our Stars), but it's a quick and often bloodless process. Not to mention financially sensible. If hoards of people have bought and read a particular novel (like the Harry Potter series or Gone Girl), then they will want to see the film adaptation of their beloved book. As long as it's put in theaters before the fad has faded, of course.
So the screenplay basically accounts for the story. And most movies are built upon a screenplay, which has hopefully been revised and workshopped a bit to best reflect the intentions of the production crew. But what about movies that feel like they didn't really have a screenplay at all? The ones that just sort of meander along with wooden dialogue, unnecessary scenes, and characters plucked right from the Trope Tree (a bountiful source for Disney Channel movies and painfully bland romantic comedies)? With confusing restrictions, a nonsense finale, and, worst of all, not much of a story at all? You might be able to name a couple films that fit these criteria, especially if you love Mystery Science Theater, but if you're the sort who dabbles exclusively in good movies, you're probably unfamiliar with a badly-written movies. There are lots of bad movies out there, folks. Just be grateful you haven't had to watch them.
The Car is a perfect example of a movie that leaves the audience wondering "was there a screenplay at all?" Banking off the rampant success of Jaws, The Car utilizes a similar premise: a car brought to life by a malignant, but never explained force begins to kill people in a small desert town. At least with Jaws this was a plausible and often frightening premise. Sharks are not the mindless, senselessly spiteful eating machines we often depict them as (no thanks to the interminable Shark Week), but a rogue, enormous shark picking off victims along a popular beach? Yeah, that's a little unnerving. Who hasn't tromped around in the ocean, only to be herded back on dry land by the memory of that fin popping out of the water? (Although if you live in South Carolina like me, that fear is often justified.) Jaws benefited from an intelligent script, memorable characters, and good camera direction. And while he is ostensibly fake-looking, Bruce does an admirable job of being intimidating when he lunges out of the water with his sharped maw bared.
So, how does The Car measure against its aquatic inspiration? Well... When I say "car that picks off people", don't you picture a cool sports car with a sleek design and human-esque grille? Something almost shark-like, perhaps? Well, too bad, because this car is a boxy, Model Yet to Be Determined behemoth with sepia-tinted windows(?) and a horn belonging to an eighteen-wheeler. It actually honks its horn right before it rams some poor innocent yokel into the dust. Very subtle. The car itself and its motives make little sense, the characters are about as well-drawn as the designs were for this vehicle of mass destruction, and this little desert town has roughly twenty sheriffs just hanging around the station at any given moment. In every station scene, the screen is packed with sheriffs crowded around one another (yet, in one scene, there is nobody to dispatch to help the protagonist. Apparently, there were twenty other situations that needed addressing,) It's a bad movie. Laughably bad, but still bad. Between jokes at this film's expense, I had to wonder: who wrote this script? Who put down their pen, surveyed the screenplay they had completed, and thought Yep, this one's a winner.
The Car isn't an isolated incident. While there is a myriad of films of a similar caliber and some so irredeemably awful that not even Mike and the Bots would come near it, there is also a proverbial ton of movies with bad screenplays that aren't inherently bad movies. This is where production value plays a critical role. A lot of slick, eye-pleasing, and well-acted movies have mediocre or even cringe-worthy screenplays that would be universally despised if they didn't look and sound so good. A movie rife with plotholes leaves me wondering why the screenplay wasn't redrafted. The screenplay is arguably the cheapest aspect of the filmmaking process: you'd think producers would be able to shell out a couple more bucks to ensure the movie didn't explicitly ignore its own rules or trip over its own blatant plot holes.
Unfortunately, this is often the case. Screenplays aren't revised. The story--the living core of a film--is swept aside in favor of dazzling CGI effects or household name celebrities. And while a screenplay might be particularly funny or heartbreaking, if it isn't structured by a good story, these jokes and touching scenes amount to little more than skits and setpieces with characters and events we can't invest ourselves into. When we encounter those aggravating plot holes, we are taken out of the film and deposited back on our chair in order to ponder the rift in the story. We cannot entirely enjoy ourselves without a good story. We might be entertained, sure, but it will only be in passing. Once the lights are switched back on, we will immediately begin to forget what we have seen.
A poorly-written movie isn't inherently bad. There are plenty of directors who can shape and twist a boring, confusing, or otherwise absentee story into an entertaining experience and even more actors who can imbue stilted dialogue with an engrossing spark. But one has to wonder why screenplays aren't taken more seriously, especially now that stories on television are becoming more complex and well-written. No amount of flash and sparkle can masquerade what isn't there. A story is essential. A screenplay, in most cases, is essential. But if a tree is poisoned at its root, the whole of it will wither and die. And, unlike The Car, watching it topple won't be enjoyable. It will only make you ache for a good story.
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