I come to this debate not to concede but to clarify statements that were made about me in Alex’s last post. Do I hate voiceover? Yes. Do I think that it is inherently sloppy and lazy screenwriting? Absolutely.
Alex states that the importance of voiceover is that it gives perspective. I disagree. The power of cinema (as opposed to live theater) is that the perspective we get comes directly from the characters. We get to see through their eyes. We get to feel what they feel. We get to take part in the action in a very emotional way. When a character (or narrator) breaks the “fourth wall” by speaking directly to the audience, that power is lost. It keeps the audience on the “outside” of the movie. And we lose that visceral connection to the character.
When a character tells us what (s)he is feeling, I stop experiencing the events of the film along the character and the movie becomes a much more objective than subjective experience for me. Great artists don’t attach a paragraph of explanation for their creations. Neither do great songwriters explain their songs in the CD liner notes. The joy for the audience is seeing choices played out of the screen and wondering “why did (s)he do that?” Decalogue: Six is a great example of that. I did not fully grasp the actions of either main character in the story, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked that. The last thing I would want is for one of them to tell me what (s)he was thinking.
Alex and I agree that voiceover for expositional purposes is worse than receiving socks for Christmas. It is, as he says, the essence of “Tell, don’t Show” – which is death to a movie. Imagine, if you will, that the expositional paragraph that begins each of the Star Wars films was not written to be read by the audience, but performed by one of the key characters (or even a narrator) while the audience takes a computer-generated tour of the galaxy.
Are you done shuddering at that possibility? Okay, let’s continue.
Voiceover is not the best way to bring us into a character’s mind. As F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in his notes regarding the unfinished end of The Last Tycoon, “Action is Character.” Plot is the foundation to film, not dialogue or exposition. And action (driven by choice) is the foundation to character. As one of the reviewers (I think it was Adam) on the Filmspotting podcast said recently, “you don’t play adjectives, you play adverbs.” You don’t tell us that you’re sad, happy, introspective, or awestruck, you speak, walk, and make decisions based on the internal feelings. Telling the audience about the feelings or “lessons learn” [ugh] is a unsatisfying shortcut to that end.
Imagine at the beginning of Rushmore that Max Fischer tells us via voiceover how much he loves Rushmore and how he would stay there forever if he could, and then gives us access to his inner-most thoughts about Miss Cross. Even with Wes Anderson’s clever dialogue, it wouldn’t work near as well as how Anderson tells us about Max. He shows us what Max is like with the quick cuts of the 25 or so extra-curricular activities Max is involved with (along with his brilliant opening scene with Brian Cox), and shows us all we need to know about how he thinks of Miss Cross by saving Latin. Max’s creed (“I think you just gotta find something you love to do, and then do it for the rest of your life. For me it’s going to Rushmore.”) is given in the midst of dialogue. Could you imagine that line opening the movie given by voiceover?
Now, to the examples that Alex gave. I admit I don’t remember the voiceover in most of them. That could be due to: (1) bad short-term memory, or (2) that the voiceovers were utterly forgettable. Whatever the case, there are two films that use voiceover (in very different ways) that I must address, because I love both films (as in “top 20 films of all time” love).
The first is The Shawshank Redemption. This film may have been the beginning of my path down film snobbery (my “gateway drug” if you will). And yet, I have to concede that it’s not perfect. The acting is perfect. The dialogue is perfect. The direction is top notch (the iconic shot of Tim Robbins emerging from the sewer pipe being cleansed by the rain gives me goose bumps just thinking about it). And yet, I have to admit that I still don’t like the voiceover. It keeps me at arms length from the picture; it keeps the film just a little bit on the “cold” side for me. There are some terrific lines delivered by Morgan Freeman via voiceover (“I like to think that the last thing that went through the warden’s head, other than that bullet. . .”), but couldn’t those lines have been given just as well (or even better) in dialogue to another character?
The second is Adaption. Here is where I need to clarify what I mean by voiceover, because I will admit, in this films it just works. The film wouldn’t be near the same without it. But here’s why it works in this film as opposed to many of the others. (1) The film is a spoof of the movie “rules.” The Kaufmann brothers characterize the tension in screen writing between following formulas (the Robert McKee seminar) and true creative thinking. So, the irony is (as Alex noted) that he’s using voiceover in a creative way, not according to the formula. (2) Charlie Kaufmann is not talking to the audience with his voiceover – he’s talking to himself. And that’s an important distinction in the film. Because Kaufmann is a severe introvert, who else does he have to talk to? The focus of the film is completely internal, and therefore the internal dialogue given through voiceover works perfectly.
So, I come to the end of this piece with a clarification of what I mean when I say “voiceover.” When it is used to read a letter for the audience’s sake or for telepathic communication (like Galadriel to Frodo in FOTR), that’s fine. But what harms a film is when voiceover is used to speak directly to the audience. That is what keeps the audience from truly entering “into” the picture, and therefore negates the real visceral power of film.
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4 comments:
Alright, Doug, what gives? You had to have your own post to respond to my post? Are you too big for the comments section?
I have to respond to your statements. First, agreements: Absolutely, expositional voiceover sucks. Second, I like that we are clarifying. Of course, voiceover is a technique, and so reading a letter, etc, is actually included in voiceover. However, I do think you have narrowed it down well when you put it in the category of voiceover that addresses the audience. I think it’s a perhaps contentious category (I would still hold that, while Legends of the Fall is reading a letter, it would still be the kind of voiceover we are talking about; certainly stuff we could get through dialogue, certainly the characters telling us how they feel – the very thing you don’t want), but for our purposes, it works rather well.
Now, disagreements.
First off, to call it “inherently sloppy and lazy screenwriting,” well, Doug, this is probably the only thing you said that I would classify as ridiculous. As a writer and as someone who knows people who have attempted screenplays, to call it lazy when I have seen and experienced the agony that is writing – even over just the right voiceover – is just silly. You can attack the technique, but not the writer. You can call it bad writing, but you can’t call the writer lazy.
Doug (couldn't figure out how to do italics): Alex states that the importance of voiceover is that it gives perspective. I disagree. The power of cinema (as opposed to live theater) is that the perspective we get comes directly from the characters. We get to see through their eyes. We get to feel what they feel. We get to take part in the action in a very emotional way. When a character (or narrator) breaks the “fourth wall” by speaking directly to the audience, that power is lost. It keeps the audience on the “outside” of the movie. And we lose that visceral connection to the character.
More on this below, but I just have to cut in here and say, I don’t think that power is lost. Indeed, I think it’s the opposite – narrative, addressing voiceover does allow us to see it through their eyes, while watching from the outside their actions and dialogue is seeing it from our eyes. Maybe that is, in the proper setting (such as your example from Rushmore), more powerful. Moreover, it is not the perspective we get directly from their characters, it is our perspective of what they are doing – we are interpreting, not them. And unlike live theatre, where we can watch whoever we want, there is also the director’s perspective (and a whole lot of others). But in voiceover, and dialogue, the character speaks and explains/voices what s/he thinks is going on. That is seeing it through their eyes, not interpreting their character for them.
Doug: When a character tells us what (s)he is feeling, I stop experiencing the events of the film along the character and the movie becomes a much more objective than subjective experience for me.
Again, the total opposite. I think you think that in voiceover, the character is telling you what you must think. That’s not the case. S/he is telling you what s/he thinks. That heightens the “subjectivity” of the film (if we must speak in these false dichotomies). This is especially true because we are free to disagree with the narrator. We might not believe him/her, or think s/he has a skewed perspective. It is only our tendency to think the narrator’s always right that could turn this into an “objective” experience. An interesting example would be Fallen, where we find out that the narrator, who has been speaking to us all along, who we have been rooting for, is actually the bad “guy.”
Doug: Great artists don’t attach a paragraph of explanation for their creations.
Some do. You can’t call them not great because they do.
Doug: Neither do great songwriters explain their songs in the CD liner notes.
Some do. Moreover, for both of these examples, I don’t think this would lessen their creations, as if the painting or song would somehow then not be good. It might make the artists themselves look a little more clumsy.
Doug: The joy for the audience is seeing choices played out of the screen and wondering “why did (s)he do that?” Decalogue: Six is a great example of that. I did not fully grasp the actions of either main character in the story, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked that. The last thing I would want is for one of them to tell me what (s)he was thinking.
In that particular example, I would agree with you. I’m not arguing that voiceover is always good – I’m arguing that each story calls for its own treatment, and that might include voiceover. I’m arguing that you can’t just unequivocally write off a time-tested technique completely. That’s my problem with McKee’s statement. You can’t approach stories or films as if they all require the same kinds of things. It’s like arguing that first person narrative in books is cheap, lazy, or in any other way “inherently” (to use your term) not good.
Doug: Voiceover is not the best way to bring us into a character’s mind.
And what is the “best way?” I don’t think there is a best way. It depends on the story, it depends on our tastes. That’s like saying, “What’s the best genre?” Or, “Which narrative perspective is best?” I would argue that Harry Potter could’ve been first person perspective, but it wouldn’t have been as good. However, that is not an argument then that 3rd person over the shoulder is somehow better than 1st person.
Doug: As F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in his notes regarding the unfinished end of The Last Tycoon, “Action is Character.” Plot is the foundation to film, not dialogue or exposition. And action (driven by choice) is the foundation to character. As one of the reviewers (I think it was Adam) on the Filmspotting podcast said recently, “you don’t play adjectives, you play adverbs.” You don’t tell us that you’re sad, happy, introspective, or awestruck, you speak, walk, and make decisions based on the internal feelings.>
I don’t disagree with any of this. However, I think that voiceover can follow, on some level, these rules.
Doug: Telling the audience about the feelings or “lessons learn” [ugh] is a unsatisfying shortcut to that end.
Doesn’t have to be, but I think I’ve belabored this point enough.
Doug: Imagine at the beginning of Rushmore that Max Fischer tells us via voiceover how much he loves Rushmore and how he would stay there forever if he could, and then gives us access to his inner-most thoughts about Miss Cross. Even with Wes Anderson’s clever dialogue, it wouldn’t work near as well as how Anderson tells us about Max. He shows us what Max is like with the quick cuts of the 25 or so extra-curricular activities Max is involved with (along with his brilliant opening scene with Brian Cox), and shows us all we need to know about how he thinks of Miss Cross by saving Latin. Max’s creed (“I think you just gotta find something you love to do, and then do it for the rest of your life. For me it’s going to Rushmore.”) is given in the midst of dialogue. Could you imagine that line opening the movie given by voiceover?
This isn’t really an argument against voiceover – it is an argument that Rushmore wouldn’t have been as good with voiceover. Which might be true, I don’t know. I think someone as clever as Wes Anderson could make voiceover work for him very well. But we won’t know. And that is not a critique of voiceover. To return to my Harry Potter example, that HP is not 1st person narrative is not a critique of 1st person narrative.
Doug: The first is The Shawshank Redemption. This film may have been the beginning of my path down film snobbery (my “gateway drug” if you will). And yet, I have to concede that it’s not perfect. The acting is perfect. The dialogue is perfect. The direction is top notch (the iconic shot of Tim Robbins emerging from the sewer pipe being cleansed by the rain gives me goose bumps just thinking about it). And yet, I have to admit that I still don’t like the voiceover. It keeps me at arms length from the picture; it keeps the film just a little bit on the “cold” side for me. There are some terrific lines delivered by Morgan Freeman via voiceover (“I like to think that the last thing that went through the warden’s head, other than that bullet. . .”), but couldn’t those lines have been given just as well (or even better) in dialogue to another character?
Kyle and I just talked about this. We think the movie works in many ways because of the voiceover. First of all, it’s interesting because (and this is brilliant) Red is a different voice when he speaks to us, and when he speaks to his cronies. There is an intimacy not available in his dialogues – until later, when Andy and him become close. That enhances the film, I think. And while I can’t disagree that this gives it a “cold” feeling – that is a liability. However, I can say that I got the opposite; the voiceover warms the film up for me. This has become an aesthetic issue, and I think that reinforces my point that it is impossible to say that voiceover is “inherently” anything in terms of judgment. That’s why you cannot discount it across-the-board.
Doug: where I need to clarify what I mean by voiceover, because I will admit, in this films it just works. The film wouldn’t be near the same without it. But here’s why it works in this film as opposed to many of the others. (1) The film is a spoof of the movie “rules.” The Kaufmann brothers characterize the tension in screen writing between following formulas (the Robert McKee seminar) and true creative thinking. So, the irony is (as Alex noted) that he’s using voiceover in a creative way, not according to the formula. (2) Charlie Kaufmann is not talking to the audience with his voiceover – he’s talking to himself. And that’s an important distinction in the film. Because Kaufmann is a severe introvert, who else does he have to talk to? The focus of the film is completely internal, and therefore the internal dialogue given through voiceover works perfectly.
I think one of the clever things about this movie is exactly what you said: it is a spoof of “rules.” I think that the movie is real, genuine – his critique of McKee is not invalidated by his later asking for his help, but enriched by it. Also, we don’t know always who the voiceover is directed at – so What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? could very well be dialogue with himself as well. We just don’t know.
Doug: That is what keeps the audience from truly entering “into” the picture, and therefore negates the real visceral power of film.
This is the central issue of your thinking, and I think the opposite – we can enter “into” the picture through voiceover. We can enter it in a way that is not always available to us. That is why, while voiceover can be terrible, it can also be glorious. Because we don’t just enter the story, we enter someone’s mind.
You guys have way too much time on your hands. Doug, what about the best mini-series ever made for TV - Band of Brothers? Do they not use voiceover effectively and necessarily?
Voiceover is merely a tool in the artist's arsenal. In the hands of a novice it is cliche and contrived and yes, lazy. In the hands of an expert artist, it enhances the entire movie experience.
We have the same amount of time on our hands as you do, Chad; we just choose to use it differently.
But I'm in complete agreement with you. Your pithy statement I think sums up exactly what I'm saying.
If I remember correctly, only 2 of the 10 episodes in Band of Brothers had much by the way of voiceover. The one that used it the most was the episode centered on Donnie Wahlburg's Sgt. Lipton, one of the most "introspective" characters in the miniseries. The episode that Tom Hanks directed centered on Capt. Winters, another introspective character, didn't employ it at all, and yet I think was even more effective in how it portrayed his internal emotions. I'd say more, but Alex hasn't seen the miniseries yet.
What I am saying is that in 95-99% of the cases voiceover is employed, it is used because the writer/director can think of no other way to communicate to the audience setting, perspective, or the internal feelings of a character. That makes it generally the lowest common denominator, the last trick in the director's bag. It's the only thing left to do. So my feeling (and really, this is just an aesthetic argument) is that it's not just another tool, it's the tool you run to when nothing else will work. Or, when you're just lazy.
Or, when you have Morgan Freeman to do the narration.
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