
John August writes about the lack of real story in many independently produced movies.
He writes:
“My hunch is that it’s actually a consequence of thinking small. If you’re making a movie on a limited budget, it may put real constraints on your locations, schedule and cast size.
But that frugality doesn’t need to limit your story. Story is free.”
...
“A lot of story can happen even when you’re constrained to a few locations. Hamlet takes place in a few rooms. So does The Usual Suspects. Both Go and The Nines pack a lot into each of their three-part sections. And while Sex, Lies and Videotape might seem low-plot, the story keeps forcing characters to make choices and face the consequences.”
He is right. Story is free and no budget in the world can compensate for the lack of it.
But I’m not sure that it is simply the director/producer's small thinking that causes a movie to lack of story. I think it is a blind urge to make a vision come true as well.
Somebody gets a vision of a movie wanting to be made. An emotion, a few colors, a character, all floating around in somebody’s mind, and if the owner of that mind has access to a camera and an actor and finds a few good locations. . . Well, I guess, there is a risk that he or she goes to work like a painter places a canvas on the easel and makes strokes with a brush.
I think it is a risk that that mind is afraid of ruin the vision – that perfect vision – if it’s going to be analyzed, structured, pushed back and forth.
It is a risk that the vision is lost, yes, that is true, but I think that it is easier to make the vision into reality if you stay cool and processes the idea, finding the story, the changes, the conflicts and the connections.
At least my visions are simply a scene or two. They cannot become even a short movie standing on their own. Nobody understands or is interested in those few scenes as they are. I need to find the story before and after those scenes to have something worth telling. Then I might earn their interest.
For me, sheets and quilts on the washing line out in the garden, in the warm summer breeze always give me a special feeling – don’t ask me why right now, just hang along – and I get a vision of a movie with those waving sheets in the centre with a poetic voice over.
No matter how hard I try, I’ll never succeed in passing my vision to the viewer that way.
Because the emotions that washing line causes in me, occur in me alone. If I want to pass those emotions to others – and that is what every moviemaker wants – I need to build a story that connect with the audience, making them understand, and get emotionally attached to, those wet sheets drying in the wind. And that story must be shown, not told. And I need to dig into myself to find why I get this sensational emotion, and then see what the story might be.
So don’t be afraid to hold your horses and start digging. The story is your vision.