Posts Tagged Clint Eastwood
I have a soft spot for hypnotists, as anyone who’s read My Memories of a Future Life will readily believe. Required viewing in our house is the illusionist Derren Brown – and part of the fun is how he puts a show together as a story.
In the first show of his latest series, The Experiments, he tested whether a nice ordinary bloke could be conditioned to assassinate a celebrity – and then, like the man convicted of shooting Robert Kennedy, have no memory of doing the deed*.
It’s a lot to believe, for both volunteer and viewer. There were the obligatory demonstrations. We saw the lucky chap develop super-marksmanship under hypnosis. He was put in a trance and did things he couldn’t remember.
But he could have been faking, of course. So before any of these demonstrations were done, the audience had to be primed to believe they could be true.
With some nifty foreshadowing.
Foreshadowing, sometimes known as prefigurement, is a way of suggesting developments that may happen later in a story so that the reader is more ready to accept them.
1 Foreshadowing amnesia
Derren mentioned moments of amnesia we all naturally have – driving a familiar route and not remembering the journey, or if you locked the front door. Hey presto, amnesia is something that could happen to us all.
This is what a writer might do if a story pivoted on an event the reader might find hard to believe if confronted with it cold.
Imagine a story that revolves around mistaken identity. Before you see the actual mistake, the ground is prepared obliquely. So a man meeting his wife off the train might hug the wrong woman, fooled by her coat. Or two characters might talk about a situation where a friend got in the wrong car. You think the scene’s about something else – perhaps their friendship – but it plants the seed that mistaken identity could happen to anyone. So when later it does, it’s easier to swallow.
2 Foreshadowing the killer trance
The assassin in Derren’s experiment was activated when he saw polka dots. This was demonstrated in action a few times. But before all that, we were primed too.
While Derren was describing what witnesses saw when Kennedy was shot, he mentioned a woman in a polka-dot dress. It seemed like one of those details to make the story more vivid, as insignificant as what time it was or whether canapes were served. Until he introduced his visual trigger later in the show – polka dots. On a handkerchief. As a surprise picture on the inside of a restaurant menu.
Now we remembered they were associated with something sinister. And in the climax, they appeared on a dress…
And the sore thumb?
In Clint Eastwood’s film Unforgiven, a blacksmith remarks that if you whack your thumb in cold weather it hurts a lot more. Not long afterwards, on an icy cold day, Little Bill gets in a fight with English Bob. But this is more than Little Bill playing football with English Bob, we’re primed to feel the pain of the blows. Unforgiven is a world where everything is a struggle, where people are fragile. And a sore thumb tells us a kicking is really nasty.
*Derren Brown’s show was testing one theory of the assassination. The true circumstances are of course more complex than summarised by him or here in this post. This isn’t a post about that, it’s about storytelling. To check out more thorough examinations of the assassination, see this piece.
Skilled storytellers don’t leave your reaction to chance. More often than you think, they’re planting clues to finely control the way you feel.
As always, give me examples you’ve noticed! Or used in your own fiction
Nail Your Novel – my short book about how to write a long one – is available from Amazon.
My Memories of a Future Life is now available in full. You can also listen to or download a free audio of the first 4 chapters over on the red blog.
From fragments we build a story – holy cow I’m in a movie with Matt Damon and directed by Clint Eastwood
Apologies for the bragging headline. At the beginning of 2010 I was an extra in Clint Eastwood’s latest film, Hereafter, starring Matt Damon. However, I also feel there is a level-headed, writerly post in it…
I just stumbled across my first review of Hereafter, in The Economist. I am of course, detonating with excitement (although I have to wait until January before it arrives in the UK). But reading the review, I can see for the first time how the scenes I was in fitted with the whole story. (Possible spoiler alert – there’s nothing here the press hasn’t shared, but if you hate to know anything about a film you want to see, you may want to look away.)
On the set I saw fragments –
Matt Damon going out of the front doors of Alexandra Palace looking upset
Crowd scenes at the London Book Fair
A female character giving a reading from a book on the afterlife
Some twins, one dead
A ghostly boy wandering through the Book Fair crowds
The ghostly boy’s twin chasing Matt Damon’s character
Derek Jacobi giving readings of Little Dorrit
‘Marie has a near-death experience and … writes about scientific evidence for an afterlife… Marcus’s twin brother dies in an accident and he goes looking for a psychic who can communicate with the dead… Lonely George (Damon), whose supernatural gift has wrecked his chances with a giggly beauty … goes to sleep listening to Charles Dickens audio books. Indeed, Dickens turns out to be the improbable thread that will bring all three characters to the London Book Fair, where Sir Derek Jacobi is reading from Little Dorrit.’
Suddenly, it’s a story.
It reminded me of how I feel when I’m putting a novel together.
To start with, everything is fragments – locations I want to use, characters I know will be important, revelations I feel will be pivotal. Scenes that come in a flash of inspiration. None of them seem to particularly connect. It’s like seeing each of them down a telephoto lens and not knowing what’s around the edges, how it connects with everyone else.
Seeing the first reviews of Hereafter have reminded me of the fragments I was involved in. And at the time, my WIP was at a very sketchy stage, but now the view has widened. The threads have pulled together. Themes have emerged and resound throughout the story. And it’s now making sense.
It’s funny to look back and think what scant material I started with.
Do you find this with your novels? Or are you thinking, never mind about the writing, tell us about being in the darn film. Ask me anything you like in the comments. Or watch the Hereafter trailer here