Psychoanalysis is an attempt to discern in ostensibly unconnected actions and images a simple, hidden, unifying theme and, as such, may be seen as the absolute and perfect inversion of the dramatist's work.
The dramatist begins with a theme, or quest, and endeavors to describe its progression in ostensibly unconnected actions and images that will, at the quest's conclusion, be revealed as unified, and that revealed unity will simply state the theme, which revelation will--just as, theoretically, with the revelation by the analysis--restore order. (64-5)
An absence of sentimentality is a great thing in a writer and separates the merely good from those who actually have something to say. (72)
I, in my ignorance, was stunned. I didn't realize that it was my job to be politically acceptable. I'd always thought society employed me to be dramatic; further, I wondered what force had so perverted the young that they would think that increasing political enfranchisement of a group rendered a member of that group incapable of error--in effect, rendered her other than human.
For if the subject of art is not our maculate, fragile, and often pathetic humanity, what is the point of the exercise? (76)
As a writer, your yetzer ha'ra (evil inclination) will do everything in its vast power to dissuade you from asking these questions of your work. You will tell yourself the questions are irrelevant as the scene is "interesting," "meaningful," "revelatory of character," "deeply felt," and so on; all of these are synonyms for "it stinks in ice."
You may be able to dissuade your yetzer ha'ra by insisting that you were and are a viewer before you were a writer, and that as a writer, these three questions are all you want to know of a scene. (85)
The bedtime stories we have heard or told are dramas, and each partakes of the same natural form as the improvisations listed above: once upon a time, and then one day, and just when everything was going well, and just at the last moment, and they all lived happily ever after. This is the form we learn at Mother's knee, and it is the form we apply in order to understand life. It casts us, the listener, as hero of our own personal drama, as, of course, we are, and it explains that drama to us in the way nature has fitted us to understand it: as a simple, honest attempt to achieve a worthwhile goal. (89)
Bishop Berkeley wrote that the test of truth is "Would you trust your life to it?" (94)
No one on any set, or in any cutting room, knows the difference (if such there is) between realism and naturalism--they are merely "telling a story with pictures." (107-8)
More wisdom from Billy Wilder, of the audience:
"Individually, they're idiots. Collectively, they're a genius."
Anyone who speaks of the audience's understanding as diminished has never had to make a living by appealing to them. If it's coherent, they will get it. The filmmaker's job is not to pander to them but to make his vision coherent. (115-6)
Sun Tzu instructs, in his Art of War, to treat the opponent as if he were an employee00to ask, that is, what motivates him and to act accordingly.
The moviemaker, similarly, must treat the audience member not as an adversary but as an associate. (119)
Life, in the art of the drama or of the carver, cannot be aped, and the attempt to remove the element of chance must doom the project absolutely. For another name for "chance" is "mystery," and another name is "art."
The artist carver, director, writer, or actor brings a (conscious or unconscious) understanding of the mystery of human interaction to his task. And it is this ineffable element (not the mechanic verisimilitude) that attracts the audience. And it is this artistry that attracts the duck.
Just as the decoy cannot be all things to an incoming duck, the film cannot be all things to an audience. Better that it should be some thing, that it convey the desire of the filmmaker to tell a story rather than their desire to earn a living. (120-1)
Te untutored mistake effect for cause. Their logical fantasy: that in the successful drama we want to know more about the hero, therefore a drama can be made successful by telling the audience more about him.
Now, the more the audience is told about the hero--the more their legitimate, indeed, induced desire is gratified--the less they care. For they have signed on to follow his journey in anticipation, glee, and dread. When the author indulges his ability to frolic away from the described path (the path, the sole path, to which the audience has vouchsafed its interest), the less interested the audience becomes. (125)
We didn't care [that the actor could play the piano] till the filmmaker brought it up, at which point we realized that, rather than being told a story, we were being shown a demonstration. We took off our "audience" hat and put on our "judge" hat. We judged tghe demonstration conclusive but, in so doing, got yanked right out of the drama. The aesthetic distance had been violated. (128)
The psychoanalyst may, indeed, fall in love with the patient, and the two may conclude that indulgence in their overwhelming ardor excuses the doctor's violation of the role of analyst. All well and jolly, but the moment they start fooling around, the special case relaxation of societal norms (in this case regarding self-disclosure) that permitted the analysand to speak freely is revoked and the analysis is, effectively, over. (128)
The circus, the vaudeville, and, indeed, performance art please through the presentation of individually complete, intellectually empty effects (tricks, turns), such that the progress, one to the next, mimics the emotional journey undergone by the listener involved in the progression of an actual drama.
The work of arranging the circus, vaudeville, or burlesque turns in the best possible order is called "routining," a most revealing term meaning "optimally ordering the arbitrary." (130)
The dramatic experience is essentially the enjoyment of the postponement of enjoyment. The mouth waters at the prospect of a delicious meal; the palms sweat in anticipatory delight of sex. The enjoyment of the pseudodramatic entertainment has nothing to do with anticipation. It is, not only aesthetically but physiologically, akin to actual iingestion or congress. (130)
"Affliction drama" similarly, appeals to two of the viewer's weak spots: a desire to be politically responsible (or fashionable) and the intention to be compassionate. Overlooked in the transaction, however, is the imaginary nature of the presentation. The heroes, their desire, and their afflictions are not real. The viewer rewards hiimself for his compassion for a fictional victim. His compassion has cost him nothing; to the contrary, its exercise has been enjoyable--it was an entertainment. (134)
Any actual contact with violence, however, creates an abhorrence of violence.
Ex-fighters, ex-police officers, and ex-soldiers are notable for their lack of belligerence; to the contrary, those displaying arrogance or combativeness have generally never experienced or seen actual violence--their belligerence masks their fear and displays their ignorant belief that battles are somehow won by intimidation.
Violent encounters are won only by those putting themselves at risk of violence.
Though a true hero does so, the audience does not. They, thus, enjoy what they perceive as a real thrill of victory without risk. (139)
The illusion of impunity has pervaded our national conflicts since Korea--as if it were possible to prevail against a foreign country without killing and being killed. The misconceived antisepsis of the Vietnam air war, of Grenada, of Iraq I and II reveals a view of impunity like that of the moviegoer. (140)
The adolescent or preadolescent is at war not with the world but with his parents. His mutually exclusive needs for support and for freedom seem incapable of happy resolution, and this impossibility tortures him. He, like the rogue cop, withdraws or is temporarily expelled from the police department--the repressive organization. He is called back for one more case and, in attempting its solution, is forced to resolve the underlying cause of disruption. That cause is revealed to be not his behavior, in any given instance, and not the supposed "crime" (for, physiologically, he, the hero, and we, the viewer, must know himself to be the perpetrator) but his relationship to his parents. (143)
On, in terms of my particular metier: hold the emotion, thanks; we understand.
The attitude has been tagged as stoicism, but perhaps it's just professionalism--why not let the audience have the experience? (148)
The perfect film is the silent film, just as the perfect sequence is the silent sequence. Dialogue is inferior to picture in telling a film story. A picture, first, as we know, is worth a thousand words; the juxtaposition of pictures is geometrically more effective. If a director or writer wants to find out if a scene works, he may remove the dialogue and see if he can still communicate the idea to the audience. (152)
These films employ variations on the Santa Claus myth of godhood, that is, they borrow a biblical model of apotheosis, cleanse it of terror and awe, and present it as light-hearted entertainment. (153)
There we have not only the actor's fantasy but also his understanding of his life and his life's work: He is allowed, encouraged, and, if gifted, driven to cast himself in various enjoyable, demanding roles and situations. These situations may not be noble, but the work, and the joy of exploring them, is. (174-5)
The choice of a date, a mate, a home, a name for the baby are all transcendently subjective. Each is an assertion of an individual's understanding of his right to joy; none, finally, is capable of analysis. By each,the individual asserts that there is a mystery in life and that he is entitled to participate in it. (177)
And so, now firmly self-understood as part of a jury, he utters the phrase that is the foundation of society and the death of art: "What do you think?" Consensus, enshrined as right thinking, ensues, and the stage is set for mediocrity. (178)