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The Seanchai Filmmaker

(Irish filmmaker, Dermot Tynan, recently shared this with some of his online screenwriting friends. The discussion was on how to come up with new story ideas when it seems as though everything has already been told, over and over, with a sameness that we're all familiar with. Here is Dermot's wonderful take on this subject. It's reprinted here with his permission.)

On the subject of rehashing an old story, I too have fretted over this issue, and I don't think there is a simple answer except to say that until the script is written, you cannot tell if it is the same as another story. At that stage, it's too late to do anything about it.

One of the reasons I don't like outlines, is because the outline for CASABLANCA could be written as "a guy who owns a bar meets an ex-girlfriend and gives her a couple of plane tickets" (my apologies to those who haven't seen the film, as now you know everything that happens). I'm sure if pushed, we could change plane tickets to train tickets, and three other similar films would fall out. On a certain level, PULP FICTION is about a boxer who throws a fight. How many times have we seen that done?

Anyway, this brings up the point of this long mail message, and if you're bored already (it ain't page 20 yet!), hit the Back button now.

In olden times here in Ireland, the primary form of entertainment was the "Seanchai" (loosely translated as Storyteller). This man (most if not all were men, so we'll stick with the stereotype if you don't mind too much...) would visit a house, and all the locals would descend on the place, sitting around the fireplace while he told a story. Chances are, this Seanchai was telling a story they'd all heard countless times before. It might have been an exaggerated tale of local heroism or stupidity. In telling the story, the Seanchai used plot devices very similar to modern day filmmaking. Heroism was rewarded, cowardice discovered and reviled, etc. The stories were all pretty similar. What made them different was the telling.

Most people knew what would happen in the end. For that matter, around 90% of Hollywood films are predictable. So what? That isn't necessarily a failing. The ritual of the story telling is what counted. You'd have a situation where the storyteller was reluctant to start. Rather than just launch into a tale while people were chatting, someone would ask that he tell a story. Many in the audience would suggest a particular tale. He'd resist, being quite content to stay where he was by the fire, claiming he only stopped by to say hello and warm his feet. Much gnashing of teeth and persuasion would result. "Ah, well, just a short one."

Hecklers and people not listening were treated the same way. Rather than challenge them, the story teller would openly admit that the story was a bit old, and most had heard it already. "Sure I won't bore ye with that tale..." This naturally would have the required result of turning the rapt audience against the heckler or disruptive person until they left, or kept quiet, and the Seanchai was placated.

The same story was never told the same way twice. Certain sections would be exaggerated and played out to keep the attention of the audience. The big advantage the Seanchai had over modern day script writers is that he had the immediate feedback of his audience. He knew when they were bored, or too familiar with a section of the story, and could adjust it accordingly, playing on their suspense and fears. Like scriptwriters though, the Seanchai had a box of tricks which could be used to create an emotional response in the audience.

Also, like an editor, he would use short, clipped sentences during fast sequences, and long, drawn-out ones for slow scenes. William Goldman uses some of the techniques in THE PRINCESS BRIDE when Peter Falk tells the story. Often, the Seanchai would speak in whispers, forcing the audience to close in around him, particularly during scary passages, or suspensful scenes. He could then explode, similar to the way a film cuts to a shot of the headless killer, standing behind the hapless victim. A cinema audience can be seen to lean forward to try and discern the darkness in front of the protagonist/victim. A jump cut or startling cut of the Horror causing the audience to recoil in the seat.

Also, like good films, enough was left to the imagination. For example, the Heroine was beautiful. Always. Fair of face and full of grace. However, the Seanchai wouldn't spend a lot of time describing her unless this was important to the plot. "Now, Margaret... (pause)... Ah, Margaret! (longer pause accompanied by the shaking of head and a wistful smile. Maybe even a sigh). Where was I? Oh yes, Margaret..." The audience all have their own Margarets. Blonde, dark, whatever. The audience associate an emotion with the character, rather than a description. Similarly, villians weren't described unless for comic benefit of comparing said villians hideous looks with every known trait. More often than not, mention of the villian (oftentimes the British) was followed by an abrupt spitting into the hearth.

Anyway, I think that in this day and age, the scriptwriter and indeed the director and editor of a feature film resemble a Seanchai who is blind and deaf, and must use every wit about him or her to anticipate the response of an audience. We'd be well-served to study the methods of these old story tellers from any culture, as a basis for our own endeavours. I for one often become disinterested in a script after explaining the story to someone, and they don't get it, or when I hear the idea myself, and it doesn't have the same magic.

Barry Devlin (who wrote A MAN OF NO IMPORTANCE among others) is an amazing storyteller. He directed all the U2 videos, and the stories from that could entertain for hours. Not because they're brilliant stories (I've repeated quite a few to friends, and they don't sound as good when I tell them), but because of the way he manipulates his audience in subtle ways. Personally, that is one skill I intend to hone and perfect. I firmly believe that if I can tell a group of people a story, and retain their interest, I'll be able to start the challenge of telling a story on a screen, when I can't look at their faces to see if I still have their interest.

Bringing this back to the original point, if we can perfect our skills as storytellers, it doesn't matter if the audience has heard the story already, in countless other forms, what matters is that they're with us as we recount the tale. "I'm going to tell ye a story of a young man who went to a little known country in Asia, called Viet Nam..." Are we talking about "APOCALYSE NOW", "THE DEER HUNTER", or "PLATOON" to name but three? Similar tales of lost innocence, told in radically different ways. Anyway, ye're probably all bored to death now, and I'll trouble ye no more...