March Workshop

One of the most difficult (and obviously most important parts of producing a film) is writing a script. It's certainly one thing to have a story in your head. It's an entirely different matter to put the story on paper. And then make it sound right. But, not just make it sound right. Make it look right. And even then, not in a way you'd make it look right in a short story or a novel. But, make it make sense on camera! But the camera? You can't even think about that until you know what kind of story you're going to tell. So, you print the script. And then you get the script and you read the thing and you think to yourself, "Wow. Let's start over again."  

There must be something powerful behind this sort of artistic expression, or I don't think anyone would ever do it again. Ever.

Nevertheless, explore the process with me. 

Sometimes the first step for me in writing a script is to brainstorm. I do this by writing scene descriptions in the order I think I would expect to see the action in a film. It always changes, and I write knowing this. But, at least it gets me started.

Nick Mundis and Danae Rodriguez rehearsing a scene in He Leadeth Me (2012).

Usually, however, the first step for me is to develop extensive character descriptions. In He Leadeth Me (2012), it was so important for me to know everything about the people in the plot. It helped that He Leadeth Me was a period piece, and, because I love the year 1932, I enjoyed every moment creating histories for the characters. For some reason, though, Sacred characters have been more difficult to write about, and I avoided writing character descriptions for a long time. Not because I didn't think it was important, and not because I didn't need them to successfully write the script, but because a story like this causes a lot of personal reflection. Sacred is actually inspired by my cousin Heidi's death, so the reality of who she was, and where she is now, stings as much as it did when she passed away in 2011. So much made this story, and continues to make it, difficult to tell.

The second step for me is to simply cold-write. Just go. Just see. And my gosh...pray. Sometimes a cold-write is successful. Sometimes the only successful thing that comes out of it is the realization that everything in the story is wrong, and that the characters aren't the people you thought they were, and that nothing in the story makes sense anymore because of it. So, just as in every writer's case, I write again, and again, and again.

Joe Larson, as "Ryan Bentley"

And again.

Sacred, actually, has far fewer rewrites than in a much larger film production because of our limited time and resources. But, the fact remains that rewriting continues until the entire movie has been shot. Performers will continue to receive revisions on set (also called "dailies") just before shooting, and I know they'll probably hate me for it. But, the beautiful part about this moment, then, is that the performers become a very integral part of the writing process by offering their own suggestions, and by turning phrases and conversation from words on paper to human experiences on camera. They are absolutely vital to making a film what it is, and what it will be for the audience.

During our March Sacred workshop, the members of the cast gathered to read through the Sacred script for the first time. Greg Brady, playing "Christopher Shaw" and also our Assistant Locations Manager, recorded the evening and then sent it on to me in Texas via email. I listened to the read-through not once, not twice, not three times...ok, five times. This was extremely helpful because...

Greg Brady, as "Christopher Shaw"

(and Olivia Mohagen, Production Assistant)

...I rewrote almost every scene.

Why? Not because I thought everyone did a poor job. In fact, the opposite is true. But, it wasn't even about them specifically. No, hearing the voices did what I knew it would do: it put life into the characters that didn't exist prior to the printing of the script. It wasn't so much about the dialogue. I knew the dialogue would always be in constant revision, even after printing a so-called "final." But, I was waiting to hear the actor's voices again. I hadn't seen most of them for two months, and had auditioned many of them well over a year ago. I knew hearing their voices would help me re-imagine the characters, and I believe the actor and the voice is what turns a script into a powerful ministry tool.

So what's the significance of any of this right now? Especially to you?

Here's a thought I've had, and continue to have...

I love to rewrite. To a fault, maybe. A fault that can carry over into my real life, without me even knowing it. Isn't it true that we can get caught up in wanting to make us match the image we have in our head of who we should be, or who we think the audience expects to see? I feel desperately inadequate when I rewrite scripts because I know it's a never-ending process. It's a very stressful task, because I know it'll never be perfect. And, I want it to be perfect! But, I rewrite anyway because maybe, maybe it'll get better, and I'll be satisfied. Isn't that why I try to re-write my own story every day? Maybe if I start a blog I'll feel wise. Maybe if I create something impressive others will see me as a noted, talented individual who has something to offer. Maybe if I reinvent my physical self, my spouse will always remember the value he had in my body when we first got married. Maybe if I lie, the truth doesn't really have to exist anymore and I can live a new truth that everyone wants to believe. Yes, dare I say, even if I re-dedicate my life to Christ, Jesus will believe that I really did mean what I said that first time about following and committing and believing. 

Maybe, just maybe.

Here's the truth: no matter what I do, it doesn't get any better.

It doesn't get better because we keep running into logistical errors, as all writers do. We run into character discrepancies, interruptions in the rhythm of the plot, and huge gaps with missing pieces. Gaps we don't even know how to fill. But, the biggest logistical error we run into is ourselves. We keep getting the details mixed up. We can't keep the story straight. We forget what is real, and make up our own ending, and tell everyone else that their story has to be just like ours. And yet, no matter what we do, we can't avoid the very act of revealing that occurs when Jesus starts to strip down our story and tell it like it is...tell us like we are. And this is where we say...ouch. Because Jesus telling our true and real story is probably the most painful kind of storytelling there is.

Scripture is full of stories film directors have attempted to re-tell, because in so many ways these stories seem larger than life. A man who built a boat and filled it with animals. A floating baby destined to be a prince of Egypt. A Jew who sacrificed himself on a cross for his followers. Hollywood, eat your heart out.

But, when we read the laments and Psalms, when we witness in Scripture the pleas for a Savior and then share in the joy when He has arrived, and even when we recognize the fear the women had when they found the tomb unquestionably empty...we hear and see a little bit of us. Humans. Doubting, lusting, laughing, longing,  drinking, following, stumbling, wanting...

Dying.

And every one of these characters in that great and marvelous and unbelievable true Story, at their weakest and in their darkest moment, undoubtedly and willingly would swap their story for anyone else's.

Just like us.

And so, every human heart cries out: Jesus, don't tell that story unless You plan to rewrite it. 

And, so He did. Praise the Lord He did.

"When He had received the drink, Jesus said, 'It is finished.' With that, He bowed His head and gave up His spirit." (John 19:30)

Celebrate this Easter that He did.