This is the first of a planned trilogy of blogs exploring three elements of storytelling I consider especially important. Each blog will feature examples of the focus element used badly, examples of it used well, will examine how a problematic movie scene can be improved using it, and how it factors into the creation of an original scene. The first element is tone.
Defining It
Tone is the mood and the atmosphere, how the overall story, and its component scenes, feel, and is important for giving your story texture and personality, and giving your audience a clear idea of what they’re in for. Characters and settings are the strongest influences on it, though such subtle things as weather conditions can also help create it. I’ve referenced it repeatedly in prior blogs, mostly film reviews, and it’s from those many of these examples will be drawn.
Doing it Wrong
The first example of it done wrong is Man of Steel. It honestly seems like neither the director, Zack Snyder, or the writer, David S Goyer – who I’m tempted to write a blog on, so let me know if you’re interested in that – really understand tone, as the film botches it at pretty much every turn. It’s trying to mimic the mood of The Dark Knight, but through flat characters, stupidly overblown action and one mishandled scene after another never even gets close. In my Rebound Effect blog I described MoS as tone-deaf, and probably the best illustration of that is Clark saving a busload of his fellow schoolchildren, then Pa Kent questioning whether he should have done it, as it could have given away that Clark has powers. The core idea is good, and a familiar one for Superman, but the execution is terrible; the rescuees being children, classmates of Clark’s, turns what should have been an emotional scene exploring an interesting moral dilemma into an awkward mess that just makes Pa Kent seem callous. It’s trying to be serious, but just ends up silly.
Super 8 is a film caught between two conflicting tones. One the one hand there’s the nostalgic, 80s-adventure-film feel, on the other a modern, hard-edged, horror-action mood, and the film’s inability to reconcile the two leads to a serious and persistent discordancy. As with MoS, a big reason is poor characterisation, not least of the alien, as noted in my Overrated Movies blog. Another one is that director JJ Abrams can capture the look of something, but really struggles with the feel of it, as illustrated by his Star Trek and Star Wars films. In Super 8‘s case, he overplays the horror-action, and misjudges the lighter, boys-own-adventure stuff, as best demonstrated by the projectile vomiting and an entirely gratuitous f-bomb. More restraint was definitely needed.
Speaking of restraint, a complete lack of it ruins Legends of Tomorrow‘s attempt at a broad tonal range. The moments of deep darkness and graphic violence and gore are so diametrically opposed to the generally goofy tone of the show they jar horribly. It’s just too extreme a shift, with little to no middle ground, and I doubt even the strongest, deepest characters could make it work, let alone the somewhat two-dimensional ones here. The only show I can think of that even comes close to pulling it off is Beastars, and the one time it falters is when it gets graphic.
Doing it Right
Examples of tone done right are the films of James Cameron. There’s the odd misstep – he’s seemingly incapable of getting sex or romantic scenes right – but when it comes to tonal shifts, you’d struggle to find better than how he transitions from quiet tension to explosive action in the two Terminator films. In the first, there’s the nightclub sequence; when the T800 and Kyle Reese arrive at the nightclub housing Sarah Connor, the film drops into slow-motion, serving both to set out with great clarity the geography of the scene, but also give viewers a chance to prepare for what’s to come; you know things are about to kick off. The same trick is used just as effectively in the second film when John Connor bursts into a corridor to find the T800 advancing from one direction, and the T1000 from the other. That lingering beat of a pause, an opportunity to adjust, makes all the difference.
In terms of tonal balance, there’s The Abyss, the director’s cut of which does a quite fantastic job of balancing tense, paranoid thriller with exploration and discovery that’s by turns mysterious, whimsical and wondrous. The key is in two characters: on the one hand, there’s SEAL team leader Coffey, a Michael Biehn masterclass in slow-burn, barely tamped-down psychosis, and on the other, Dr Lindsey Brigman, a driven, intelligent, highly inquisitive, open-minded, and at times even childlike individual beautifully realised by Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio. They personify the two tones, anchor them, and provide the basis for much of the film’s conflict, ably supported by the rest of the cast, and Cameron’s restraint and focused, fluid, naturalistic direction. Does it go too far at the climax? Possibly, but it certainly delivers the cathartic release needed after all that’s gone on.
For a good example of broad tonal range, it pretty much has to be She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. As detailed in my Reviewing Netflix Animated Series blog, this show manages to run a real gamut, from funny, to heartfelt, to kinetic, to scary, to intense, to moving, to joyful. The phenomenal characters are a huge part of it, but so is that word I’ve used a few times, now: restraint. The darker aspects work because they’re underplayed, understated, expressed through the characters rather than graphically depicted, and thus stay in perfect balance with everything else. Equally, it never becomes saccharine or too goofy, its lightness of touch and deft transitions an object lesson to other shows. This series knows its limits.
Scene Change
Star Trek Into Darkness is a film with no shortage of issues, tonal blips among them. My focus here is a moment featuring James T Kirk (Chris Pine) and Carol Marcus (Alice Eve). It starts as a walk and talk in a corridor, then they enter a shuttlecraft, and there Marcus instructs Kirk to turn around, and starts undressing as the camera pans from her. Kirk doesn’t keep looking away for long at all, though, and that prompts a lingering shot of Marcus in just her underwear, before, after being prompted twice more, Kirk turns finally turns his back again, and the scene ends. It is unquestionably gratuitous, and in tonal terms the problem is that we go from focused urgency to juvenile voyeurism with zero justification.
The challenge here is to keep the scene as is, with the undressing, but ensure it isn’t gratuitous, and the tonal aspect of that is as simple as altering Kirk’s behaviour. If he quits being a schoolboy leaning through the door of the girls’ changing room, and instead stays not just a Starfleet officer but a Captain, and respects her request, that immediately improves things. Stay on him as the conversation continues, keeping the focused urgency, and only pan back to Marcus when she’s fully changed. Or, have Marcus tell Kirk she needs to change, and why, and suggest he turn around if that makes him uncomfortable; it doesnt, so he doesn’t, and remains respectful and focused on their continuing conversation throughout; in this version the changing of clothes can be on camera, but not the focus, just one matter-of-fact part of the scene. Keeping the tone more consistent is key.
Scene Setting
Since all the examples used are from movies and TV, it only makes sense the original scene should be created as one, too. It’ll start in a small bar on the waterfront of a coastal town, where two people – we’ll call them Kate and Alex – are sharing drinks. They thought it would be a good, neutral place to meet and start to explore the connection they both feel, but that’s not how it turned out. It’s active and noisy, exacerbating their underlying anxiety, neither able to settle, and conversation only sporadic.
Obviously, the bustling setting helps greatly with the tone, but it’s important not to overplay it, not to make it too noisy and active. Peaks and dips in the surrounding conversations, louder moments and quieter ones, make the most sense, and the same for people passing by their table. Their postures will change in response, tense in the noisier moments, more relaxed in the quieter ones, their burgeoning connection subtly showing. Lighting should be somewhat stark, and mobile to match all the activity, with sporadic flashes of colour whenever a nearby slot machine is played. Camerawork will also be a factor, but again it’s important not to overdo it; handheld shots with a trace of restlessness to them, shifting only slightly, would work best, and they should focus almost entirely on Kate and Alex’s table in mid and close shots.
This part of the scene will be short, as once her drink is done Kate will decide she needs to step outside for a while. She tells Alex she intends to head to a private little spot she knows to skinny dip, an activity that always helps her relax, and invites them to come along; Alex tells Kate they’ll think about it while they finish their drink. Dropping the background sound to near-nothing not only puts focus on this exchange, but helps underscore a particularly strong moment of connection. A wider shot of most of the bar can capture both Kate leaving, and Alex watching her thoughtfully.
Outside, we follow Kate along the waterfront at the beginnings of dusk, out of the town, and down a coastal path in a series of shots, some handheld, some tracking, some fixed. The further she gets from the bar the quieter the soundtrack becomes, the more settled and natural the lighting, and the calmer the camerawork, in a slow, smooth transition, until once she reaches a fairly extensive swathe of lightly grassy dunes all that can be heard are the soft ambient sounds of the water, the wind and the odd bit of wildlife. Quiet music, a piano piece perhaps, can be used here, but isn’t required. The shift in the surroundings, from the bustle of town to the peaceful dunes, will certainly help, too. Her posture and body-language will also change, the tension steadily ebbing from her frame and expression.
Tucked away in the dunes is a sheltered little semi-circle of sand lapped by gentle wavelets, and it’s here Kate stops walking. She looks around for a moment, then calmly takes off her clothes and sets them aside, before standing facing the water with her arms at her sides and her eyes closed; she draws some slow, steady breaths, and the last of the tension visibly drains from her. The tone at this point needs to be peaceful and relaxed, reflecting the inner calm the act of skinny dipping provides for Kate, so ravishing her form with the camera ala Michael Bay or a soft porn film is definitely out. Being coy or censorious about it also won’t work; shots of just her head and shoulders, or legs from the knee down, or back above the hips, are too limiting, and could lend a contextually inappropriate touch of the illicit to what she’s doing; using the scenery to cover her chest, rear and groin would do the same, and at worst could actually objectify or sexualise by drawing attention to what you’re not allowed to see.
To maintain the peaceful tone, film her as if she were dressed, and keep things simple. A couple of static shots, one from the rear, framing her between the flanks of the dunes, one from the side with her on the left and the water on the right, would work for the moment she’s standing; a tempting addition is a front mid-shot from the waist-up with her again on the left, and a tiny hint of the town far in the distance on the right, above and beyond the dunes, her head turning and/or tilting towards it for a second, then shaking lightly before she opens her eyes and starts walking toward the water.
Follow or track her handheld into the water, and once she’s swimming, she can be filmed in many ways – from above, from below, camera pivoting to follow as she passes by at various distances, following, pacing, preceding, distant, mid, close – as long as it’s all naturalistic, like the films of Celine Sciamma or the swimming scenes from The Blue Lagoon (a candidate for a second Underrated Movies blog). it can last a little while, too, but not too long, and should end when she surfaces, looks back at where she came from, and sees Alex standing there watching her.
A touch of tension could be achieved by stilling the camera completely, and holding a near-silent shot from fairly close behind Kate’s head, with her to the left and Alex to the right. Then a close-up of Kate’s face as her expression turns decisive, then back to the shot behind her as she starts swimming for shore. Next shot is pacing her as she walks out of the water, widening as she halts in the shallows to bring in Alex, then holding, or possibly pushing in very slowly, as she offers a hand to them, again in near-silence. Then Alex smiles, quickly disrobes, walks forward to take Kate’s hand, and the camera comes to life, turning and moving toward the pair as they enter the water.
A few shots of them swimming together, filmed with a bit more energy and movement than before, and the return of the piano, with a touch more spirit than before, though still quite understated, would work well. The faintest hint of romance in shared looks, and touches, but no more; this is a big step in their relationship, but still only a step; there’s a long way to go, yet. Final shot of the duo lying together on the flank of a dune to dry, resting close, an arm loosely around each other, smiling and perfectly at ease as they both watch the last colours of the sunset and the stars starting to sweep the sky. Fade out.
Foxy Musings 