Hi.
I'm Michael.
This is Lessons from the Screenplay.
Some people consider Wes Anderson a genius, subverting conventional film language while
creating his own dialect.
Others consider his films artfulness mistaken for art, devoid of meaning.
While I am a fan of most Wes Anderson films, I think Moonrise Kingdom is the best example
of story matching style.
The color palette and storybook-like presentation create a world similar to the fantasy novels
Suzy carries with her.
But today I want to glimpse past his visual style and look at other elements.
To examine how the screenplay sets the stage for the story,
And how it uses details to create the fantastical and dangerous world of Moonrise Kingdom.
We all know what a Wes Anderson movie looks like, but what does a Wes Anderson screenplay
look like?
Here are a few things I thought were noteworthy.
In the scene headers, Anderson and co-writer Roman Coppola chose to use a second period
instead of the traditional dash.
When there is information relevant to the story world, but not inherently obvious in
the screenplay, it is noted in parentheses.
There are very few specific mentions of the camera.
The narrator directly address it.
Insert shots are noted.
Split-screen is described.
Any other camera visuals are implied by the mention of elements in the foreground or background.
Lastly, many of the visual details Anderson is known for can be found in the screenplay
as well.
The action lines note specific decorations, placements of objects, and costume details.
But besides painting a picture for the reader, what do these details actually add to the narrative?
From the lining of the tent, to the color of the paper on the bulletin board, the screenplay
is full of detailed descriptions of the world.
But what I found most interesting were the details describing the lives of the characters.
Each character is doing something else when we meet them, going about their normal routines
before getting roped-in to the story.
This is true not only of the main characters, but of the smaller ones, like Becky the
switchboard operator.
“A young woman with her hair in a bun sits at an operator's switchboard eating a sandwich
wrapped in wax-paper.”
“She is Becky.”
So why is Becky eating a sandwich?
I have no idea.
Other than it sets up an association with her and food, which comes in to play again
in a later scene:
“Becky opens a tin of home-made lemon bars.
Captain Sharp declines one.”
“Scout Master Ward tries one."
"He looks completely enchanted.”
Becky could have simply been a generic switchboard operator.
But instead she's given these tiny moments that hint at her life outside her function
in the story.
These cookie-sharing moments even begin a love story between her and Scout Master Ward
that happens in the very, very background of the movie.
—"You?" —"Are you alright?"
"Of course I am."
This is a small, quirky thing.
But the accumulation of all these tiny details helps fill out the world and make it feel
believable.
Lived-in.
Like it existed before the movie began and will persist after it ends.
And this is important because it makes the audience feel like the characters’ actions
will have repercussions on the world.
That their choices matter.
These details also help the audience become familiar with the setting of the film.
As Screenwriter William Goldman wrote in his book, “Adventures in the Screen Trade”:
"Every movie sets it's own special reality."
"And once those limits are established, they may not be broken without the risk of fragmenting..."
"...the entire picture."
This is why it's necessary to set the stage for your story.
The first fifteen pages of the film are dedicated to setting the stage.
The narrator gives us a tour of the island, and foreshadows the coming storm, establishing
the time frame of the story.
“We are on the far edge of Black Beacon Sound…”
“…famous for the ferocious and well-documented storm which will strike from the east…”
“…on the fifth of September — in three day’s time.”
We meet the Khaki scouts and see their potential for violence as they search for Sam while
carrying very large, very dangerous weapons.
“What if he resists?”
“Who?”
“Shakusky.
Are we allowed to use force on him?”
“No, you’re not.
This is a non-violent rescue operation.”
By the time Suzy and Sam meet in the field on page seventeen, we know the cast of characters,
the scope of the world, and the threats that are coming their way.
These threats are realized in my favorite example of establishing the rules of the world,
when Suzy and Sam encounter the Khaki Scouts.
“You’re doomed, Shakusky.”
Their fight is not without casualties.
One of the scouts is stabbed by Suzy...
"Oh no!"
...and the dog is killed.
Obviously, I'm sad the dog dies, but it raises the stakes for the world.
If the film is willing to kill the dog, it removes a layer of safety.
This is an attribute of Moonrise Kingdom that Wes Anderson is very conscious of.
"Owen and I used to always discuss whether or not— 'can anyone die in our movies?'"
"Is it conceivable that someone can die?”
“I think this movie, I think, is one of the ones where they could die."
This especially serves the final act of the film when the storm hits.
In the last moments when Suzy and Sam climb to the roof to try to escape, there is a real
sense of danger.
This is important because their willingness to die for their love is only impactful if
you think they could actually die.
This demonstrates the importance of establishing the boundaries of what can and can't happen
in your story.
The last thing I want to talk about is how the world of Moonrise Kingdom is presented
to the audience.
In short, the style.
In their book “Notes on Directing,” Frank Hauser and Russell Reich write:
“Elements of style are best applied with intention, purpose, and meaning..."
"...not as ends in themselves.”
The elements of Wes Anderson's style are well-documented, but what is their purpose?
Most films want you to disappear into the narrative and forget that you're watching
a movie.
They use conventional cinematic language that doesn't draw attention to itself.
Wes Anderson is the complete opposite.
From a narrator who addresses the audience and interacts with the camera...
...to Suzy's books updating the audience on where they are in the story...
"Part Two"
...the style of Moonrise Kingdom is a constant reminder you are watching a movie.
Perhaps the most distancing element of the style is the dialogue.
The characters are very direct, sometimes to the point of being harsh.
“I have to do better."
"For everybody.”
“Except me.”
“Except you.”
They almost never lie, instead speaking aloud precisely what they’re thinking or feeling.
“I hope the roof flies off and I get sucked up into space.”
“You’ll be better off without me.”
So the dialogue of Moonrise Kingdom shirks realism in pursuit of something else.
But what?
On one hand, the dialogue provides the audience with direct access to the thoughts and feelings
of the characters.
A connection.
But on the other hand, the lines are so plain and performed with such little affect, that
hardly any emotional meaning is conveyed in the delivery.
A distance.
This creates a dissonance, where the audience is exposed to intense emotions but also held
at arm's length, unable to be fully immersed in the experience.
Rather than having the meaning delivered to us, we the audience have to actively engage
and discern the emotional life of the characters ourselves.
“I’ll be out back.”
“I’m going to find a tree to chop down.”
This Brechtian approach to storytelling can make Wes Anderson's films more of an intellectual
exercise than escapist entertainment.
But it's also why I think his style supports the theme and story of Moonrise Kingdom particularly well.
Because Suzy and Sam are trying understand their world too.
They’re both troubled children who have finally found a person and a place that makes
them happy,
but all the adults are trying to keep them apart.
“We’re in love."
"We just want to be together."
"What’s wrong with that?”
The presentation of the story mimics the innocent earnestness of childhood clashing with the
emotional barriers we construct in adulthood.
All while telling the story of two kids who are undergoing the frustrating transition
from one to the other.
In Moonrise Kingdom, the beach that Suzy and Sam claim as their own is wiped off the map
during the storm.
For me, this is a metaphor for the end of childhood.
A time of intense emotion and innocence that must be destroyed in order to grow up.
But this film, both because of the content of the story and the way it's told,
briefly recreates this bittersweet period of transition.
It’s a piece of art that lets me return to Moonrise Kingdom whenever I want.
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I hope you enjoyed my video on Moonrise Kingdom.
Which of Wes Anderson’s films is your favorite?
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