Let’s say you’ve watched the story of a man who reluctantly cleans up his long estranged father’s affairs, discovers details of the difficult circumstances of his parents’ marriage and his childhood, and realises how it is only now, having grown up and started a family of his own, that he can begin to understand his father as a man.
It’s been a bit of an emotional journey, and you’ve invested in it willingly. The story is very near the end as the man goes to visit his father in hospital, and you look forward to something like this:
INT. HOSPITAL – DAY
The OLD MAN (60s) lies in his HOSPITAL BED, tubes and pumps abound, his eyes open, staring upward.
The Old Man’s SON (30s) pulls up a VISITOR’S CHAIR and sits down, hands clasped in his lap. He looks at his father, breathing – no, living – with the aid of machines. The father’s eyes don’t shift from the ceiling.
SON
Dad –
He clears his throat.
He tries to start again but he can’t as sobs erupt from his body, and it is all he can do to reach out and hold his father’s bloodless, frail hand.
No more need be said, right? We’ve followed the son’s journey, both physical and emotional. That’s why we’ve found a hanky to cry into, to share the catharsis.
Alas, what you get is:
INT. HOSPITAL – DAY
The OLD MAN (60s) lies in his HOSPITAL BED, his eyes open, staring upward.
The Old Man’s SON (30s) pulls up a VISITOR’S CHAIR and sits down. He looks at his father. The father’s eyes don’t shift from the ceiling.
SON
Dad -.
He clears his throat.
SON
Dad. I just wanted to say I -, I forgive you for all the love you witheld from me, all the sports games you never came to, all the opportunities you had to say just one nice thing to me but instead you made fun of me, and belittled me.
The Son blinks, his cheeks wet from tears.
SON
Dad, I -. I love you. You were always okay by me, Dad, and I wish I’d never stayed away as long as I did and I’m so sorry I held all that anger against you. You were doing your best, Dad. And that’s all a son can ever ask of his Dad.
He takes hold of his father’s hand and begins to weep.
What is it that I like so much about the less-is-more approach?
I like ambiguity. It makes me feel like an adult, with a licence to read between the lines.
Brilliant way to show what the problem is with most screenplays. Love it.
thanks, Amanda.
it’s not always the screenwriter’s fault, though: sometimes they’re directed to insert
expositoryexplanatory dialogue into their script.