WHAT IS THE STORY?

In the past month, I co-taught 54 rising directors the craft of directing episodic narrative television. But I would argue that I was really teaching filmmaking, because the craft is the same, whatever the distribution: big screen movie theater, TV, streaming platform, internet.  And even though the recording device is no longer – unless you’re Christopher Nolan – a 70mm film camera, directors of all media have one task, with one goal: TELL THE STORY.

         This concept is the seed of every single production. But sometimes that story is hard to find. In the process of writing the story (or multiple ones, if we’re talking episodic television) that seed grows into a script that resembles a gigantic tree, consisting of multiple branches with obscuring leaves. That may make it difficult for a director to chop away all those branches of scene description and characters and dialogue to get back to that seed. What was that idea before a gifted writer caused it to grow? What is the story and why are we telling it?

         The director has to ask him/herself many pertinent questions about each scene: What has to happen in this scene? Why is this scene essential to telling the story? And then, to break it down further, what is the intention of each character, and how do those intentions collide to create conflict? And to go even deeper, what are the internal obstacles for each character that stand in the way of them achieving that intention?

         A director asks and answers those questions for themselves as they prepare to shoot the script. Now they have a vision of what this film will eventually become, and they share that vision with their department heads in a collaborative way. What is the overall tone? What are the sets and locations? The costumes? The props? The casting? And how do those decisions illustrate the story?

         The same overarching principle of “What is the story?” is on the director’s mind throughout the shoot as well. Whether guiding performance or choosing a shot, each decision plays its part in consistently telling that story. And when a specific decision is brilliantly on point, that’s when the realization of the script is elevated. That’s when the job of the director – to bring the page to the stage – becomes not just relevant, but crucial.

         In the authority pyramid of filmmaking, the director is at the top (unless you’re working in episodic TV, then perhaps the head writer, or showrunner, takes that spot) but we all know that everyone who gets into this crazy business was attracted to it because they were storytellers. Whether a person drives the honey wagon or decorates a set or performs as an actor, they are doing it because it’s a creative business that results in a product that viewers can watch and be emotionally captivated.  It always starts with the writer, who creates the bible of the massive undertaking that is filmmaking. But it takes the director, the interpreter of every choice, to tell the visual story, the realization of that script. The viewer might discover something, or relate to something, or change something in their life, because we told them a story. And that makes our storytelling life meaningful.

         I am so aware of that, because when I’m directing a show, my first thought upon opening my eyes after a night of dreaming about the work is, “I get to shoot today!!” I am still excited about directing, primarily because I love telling stories. And like myself, those 54 rising directors, as well as all the ones I’ve taught previously, have learned that they, too, can succeed at this wonderful career by following just one guiding principle: asking themselves at every turn, “What is the Story?”