I was talking to some comedy writers last night - and we were thinking about why we liked BBC4 so much - the comedy, the documentaries and everything else. We thought it might be because the budgets are so small that anyone making a show isn't doing it for the money, but for the sheer love of it. People with passion are making TV they are passionate about, and figuring out a way of putting it on the screen. Their documentaries are superb for that reason - full of content, and people telling you stuff, rather than atmos, filler and 'coming up later, I'll be telling you about something juicy'.
And think about BBC4's sitcom output for a moment: The Thick of It, Lead Balloon, Getting On, The Great Outdoors. Throw in Screenwipe, We Need Answers and the delightful Diary of a Nobody, The Alan Clarke Diaries and Micromen it's rapidly looking like BBC4 is the HBO of British television. Has BBC4 had any out-and-out comedy failures? There were some shows that weren't to my personal taste, but there has been nothing out there that's really been bad, has there?
BBC4: The HBO of Britain. I salute you. (And it is really true your comedy budget has now been slashed to zero? Clever. With no budget at all, the quality should go through the roof!)
Showing posts with label The Thick of It. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Thick of It. Show all posts
Friday, 10 September 2010
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
Do People Really Talk Like That?
It's a question worth asking yourself all the time as you write. Do people really talk like that? There are plenty of moments where, if you're honest with yourself, someone has only really said something in a certain way in order to provide the set-up for a joke.
A stand-out example of this for me was the much un-loved Frank Skinner sit-com Shane. I watched an episode a year or so ago and rather enjoyed it. The only bit that diminished my enjoyment was that Frank Skinner had almost all of the jokes and that everyone else had feed-lines. On top of this, the feed lines didn't always sound right or natural, which telegraphed the fact that a joke was on the way and therefore spoiled the joke (and also made one aware that the whole programme is a conceit, which is not something you want to remind your audience of). Sometimes it's hard to avoid a clunky set-up line, especially when the joke you have in mind is a real cracker. But the skill of the writer is to make the dialogue sound real, or natural, or at least real enough.
When The Office came out, the critics and the industry went wild. Here was 'real' dialogue. This is true. The dialogue did sound real (although let's not forget that the character add times spoke directly to camera, in a documentary, and the they played fairly fast and loose with the docu-format).
The Office was truly brilliant as a non-audience show. (Critics then, bless them, returned to studio sitcoms and slammed them for being contrived or fake or silly, when, as I often say on this blog, the audience do realise it's a contrivance and they're okay with that). The Office, though, had an effect though on other writers, who wanted to write dialogue like the dialogue in The Office, and number of other shows, mostly forgotten, came and went that focussed on awkward silences and ennui. Spaced was another groundbreaking show that inspired another generation of writers, and created 'a way of talking'. Let's not forget Peep Show and The Thick of It.
Likewise, monstrously successful shows like Friends, Frasier and Seinfeld have almost created a 'way of talking' that really trips of the tongue and gives a show a feeling of pace. This is fine - if you're an American writer and writing for American audiences. But sometimes this kind of wise-cracking talking finds it way into British comedy.
The reason I mention this is because one or two shows recently - and the odd movie - have felt very unreal to me because of the dialogue and 'way of talking'. It's as if the writers were writing a show that were designed to sound like other shows. It's impossible to tell whether this is intentional - either because the writer in question is writing that way because he/she thinks the audience will like it, or because he/they likes it and it sounds good, or because he/we don't realise we're doing it.
The example that made me shout at my television the most was a movie on TV called Frequently Asked Questions about Time Travel - directed by a good comedy director and had funny actors in it. But it felt like the script was half-way between Hitchhikers and Hot Fuzz. That sounds like a good place to be - but it was just that and only that. It was only influences. I didn't believe any of the characters, or the set-up - and this was highlighted by the fact that people in real life just don't talk like that. What's more, the Hot Fuzz area is dangerous because it is a movie heavily influenced by other movies.
Screenwriters need to know how real people talk and write concise and characterful dialogue in that style. If you spend your life watching movies and TV, and TV influenced by movies, and movies influenced by TV, you'll end up trapped in an unreal life that doesn't connect with reality. Decent writing is about truth. If there's no ring of truth - in situation, character or dialogue - it's just someone talking cliche's or secondhand speech. If you're doing that, stop writing now and get a part-time job, get married and have a child, go into politics or just do something that isn't about TV.
Grandma's House, Roger and Val Have Just Got In, The Great Outdoors, - three brand new BBC comedies inexplicably premiered over July/August - do not fall into this trap, I'm pleased to say. Nor did Rev earlier this summer. In all those programmes, the characters feel real - like they are based on truth, not based on something based on truth. And truth, not wisecracks or contrived 'sexual chemistry', ultimately, is what keeps people watching.
A stand-out example of this for me was the much un-loved Frank Skinner sit-com Shane. I watched an episode a year or so ago and rather enjoyed it. The only bit that diminished my enjoyment was that Frank Skinner had almost all of the jokes and that everyone else had feed-lines. On top of this, the feed lines didn't always sound right or natural, which telegraphed the fact that a joke was on the way and therefore spoiled the joke (and also made one aware that the whole programme is a conceit, which is not something you want to remind your audience of). Sometimes it's hard to avoid a clunky set-up line, especially when the joke you have in mind is a real cracker. But the skill of the writer is to make the dialogue sound real, or natural, or at least real enough.
When The Office came out, the critics and the industry went wild. Here was 'real' dialogue. This is true. The dialogue did sound real (although let's not forget that the character add times spoke directly to camera, in a documentary, and the they played fairly fast and loose with the docu-format).
The Office was truly brilliant as a non-audience show. (Critics then, bless them, returned to studio sitcoms and slammed them for being contrived or fake or silly, when, as I often say on this blog, the audience do realise it's a contrivance and they're okay with that). The Office, though, had an effect though on other writers, who wanted to write dialogue like the dialogue in The Office, and number of other shows, mostly forgotten, came and went that focussed on awkward silences and ennui. Spaced was another groundbreaking show that inspired another generation of writers, and created 'a way of talking'. Let's not forget Peep Show and The Thick of It.
Likewise, monstrously successful shows like Friends, Frasier and Seinfeld have almost created a 'way of talking' that really trips of the tongue and gives a show a feeling of pace. This is fine - if you're an American writer and writing for American audiences. But sometimes this kind of wise-cracking talking finds it way into British comedy.
The reason I mention this is because one or two shows recently - and the odd movie - have felt very unreal to me because of the dialogue and 'way of talking'. It's as if the writers were writing a show that were designed to sound like other shows. It's impossible to tell whether this is intentional - either because the writer in question is writing that way because he/she thinks the audience will like it, or because he/they likes it and it sounds good, or because he/we don't realise we're doing it.
The example that made me shout at my television the most was a movie on TV called Frequently Asked Questions about Time Travel - directed by a good comedy director and had funny actors in it. But it felt like the script was half-way between Hitchhikers and Hot Fuzz. That sounds like a good place to be - but it was just that and only that. It was only influences. I didn't believe any of the characters, or the set-up - and this was highlighted by the fact that people in real life just don't talk like that. What's more, the Hot Fuzz area is dangerous because it is a movie heavily influenced by other movies.
Screenwriters need to know how real people talk and write concise and characterful dialogue in that style. If you spend your life watching movies and TV, and TV influenced by movies, and movies influenced by TV, you'll end up trapped in an unreal life that doesn't connect with reality. Decent writing is about truth. If there's no ring of truth - in situation, character or dialogue - it's just someone talking cliche's or secondhand speech. If you're doing that, stop writing now and get a part-time job, get married and have a child, go into politics or just do something that isn't about TV.
Grandma's House, Roger and Val Have Just Got In, The Great Outdoors, - three brand new BBC comedies inexplicably premiered over July/August - do not fall into this trap, I'm pleased to say. Nor did Rev earlier this summer. In all those programmes, the characters feel real - like they are based on truth, not based on something based on truth. And truth, not wisecracks or contrived 'sexual chemistry', ultimately, is what keeps people watching.
Monday, 7 June 2010
Handling the Truth
People in television - especially comedy - love to look down on advertising and creatives who work in that field. Let's be honest, funny TV commercials are normally shot for about £250k, and are essentially one joke. Well, you can shoot an episode of a sitcom in TV studio for that, and this requires at least five jokes a minute for 30 minutes, which is about 150 jokes.
But one of the main gripes against advertising is that it's deemed to be professional lying. There's always the suspicion that advertisers are pushing us products we don't need, or inventing needs and filling them with their products. Or that we see products as part of a 'lifestyle'. The more we think about it, the more shallow and empty it seems. Surely a car is a car is a car. Those adverts with open roads, and slogans and exploding hills. Are we really so shallow or gullible that these tactics work?
Yes.
We are.
Or they wouldn't do it. Advertising is based on truth - or at least perceived truth. The fact is that we do define ourselves by the car we drive, and the packaging of our perfume, or the brand of fruit on our computer. Companies spend billions of pounds sussing out customers, and this is evidence of years of research.
Also, we know when adverts are based on lies - and when they are exploiting truth. Or offering something that is too good to be true. An advert, even an exaggerated and silly one which has some lies in it, must have a central truth to it, or else it's just fantasy. To get beautiful crystals, you need something for the freezing particles to form around - even if it's very small indeed. A pearl needs that grain of sand around which to form (unless that's one of those natural world urban myths...)
I mention this because comedy is the same as advertising. I was especially aware of this last night as I was considering the kind of comedy shows that get nominated for BAFTAs - or contains performances that do. These shows are not just about characters that we love and want to spend time with - but say something that's worth saying, and we like to hear it said because it is true.
Good comedy is based on truth, or revealing truth in a clever way, truthfully subverting a perceived and widely help untruth. The Thick of It, Miranda, Outnumbered, Peep Show, Getting On, The In-Betweeners, Outnumbered - they all do this.
The Thick of It reveals the truth about politics - that despite appearances and ministerial dignity, it's a rat-race of incompetence, fury and compromise. Yes Minister did broadly the same thing but in a different way (and that won BAFTAs too) Getting On reveals that a similar truth about the much-revered NHS, which is that it's a flawed slow-moving system, run by flawed normal people and often fails to care for people. The In-Betweeners reveals the truth about being 'that age' when you're meant to be young, free and able to do anything, especially sexually, but that the reality is always more disappointing than the fantasy. Peep Show does a similar thing but for slightly older people (and came first!). Miranda reveals the truth that fitting in is a lot harder than it looks, takes a lot of effort and can lead you down any number of blind or embarrassing alleys (in a way that many of the audience identify with). Outnumbered shows that if you try and parent by outwitting your kids - as many do - you will lose, especially if you're outnumbered by them.
Comedy shows - good ones - are often about a big truth, or truthfully exposing a big lie with truth. Friends did it. The show picked up on the fact that when you're young and single, after leaving your family and beginning your own new one, you rely completely on your friends. It had a ring of truth so had a good chance of connecting with the audience. They then created six brilliant characters and wrote fantastic joke. The truth is not enough. It requires art and skill to package the truth. But it's not all packaging. There has to be truth there.
So when plotting a comedy show, aim for a BAFTA and create a show that isn't just filled with jokes, or funny people, or amusing situations, or wry observations - but truth.
But one of the main gripes against advertising is that it's deemed to be professional lying. There's always the suspicion that advertisers are pushing us products we don't need, or inventing needs and filling them with their products. Or that we see products as part of a 'lifestyle'. The more we think about it, the more shallow and empty it seems. Surely a car is a car is a car. Those adverts with open roads, and slogans and exploding hills. Are we really so shallow or gullible that these tactics work?
Yes.
We are.
Or they wouldn't do it. Advertising is based on truth - or at least perceived truth. The fact is that we do define ourselves by the car we drive, and the packaging of our perfume, or the brand of fruit on our computer. Companies spend billions of pounds sussing out customers, and this is evidence of years of research.
Also, we know when adverts are based on lies - and when they are exploiting truth. Or offering something that is too good to be true. An advert, even an exaggerated and silly one which has some lies in it, must have a central truth to it, or else it's just fantasy. To get beautiful crystals, you need something for the freezing particles to form around - even if it's very small indeed. A pearl needs that grain of sand around which to form (unless that's one of those natural world urban myths...)
I mention this because comedy is the same as advertising. I was especially aware of this last night as I was considering the kind of comedy shows that get nominated for BAFTAs - or contains performances that do. These shows are not just about characters that we love and want to spend time with - but say something that's worth saying, and we like to hear it said because it is true.
Good comedy is based on truth, or revealing truth in a clever way, truthfully subverting a perceived and widely help untruth. The Thick of It, Miranda, Outnumbered, Peep Show, Getting On, The In-Betweeners, Outnumbered - they all do this.
The Thick of It reveals the truth about politics - that despite appearances and ministerial dignity, it's a rat-race of incompetence, fury and compromise. Yes Minister did broadly the same thing but in a different way (and that won BAFTAs too) Getting On reveals that a similar truth about the much-revered NHS, which is that it's a flawed slow-moving system, run by flawed normal people and often fails to care for people. The In-Betweeners reveals the truth about being 'that age' when you're meant to be young, free and able to do anything, especially sexually, but that the reality is always more disappointing than the fantasy. Peep Show does a similar thing but for slightly older people (and came first!). Miranda reveals the truth that fitting in is a lot harder than it looks, takes a lot of effort and can lead you down any number of blind or embarrassing alleys (in a way that many of the audience identify with). Outnumbered shows that if you try and parent by outwitting your kids - as many do - you will lose, especially if you're outnumbered by them.
Comedy shows - good ones - are often about a big truth, or truthfully exposing a big lie with truth. Friends did it. The show picked up on the fact that when you're young and single, after leaving your family and beginning your own new one, you rely completely on your friends. It had a ring of truth so had a good chance of connecting with the audience. They then created six brilliant characters and wrote fantastic joke. The truth is not enough. It requires art and skill to package the truth. But it's not all packaging. There has to be truth there.
So when plotting a comedy show, aim for a BAFTA and create a show that isn't just filled with jokes, or funny people, or amusing situations, or wry observations - but truth.
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