Xmas mystery: Adoration of the magi

At my recent workshop in Edinburgh, it seemed that the principle of mystery awoke most questions and curiosity. Especially about it's practical application. So here I'll give a small example of my own process.

Boticelli was one among many renaissance painters to render "the adoration of the magi", a scene depicting the three wise men bowing before the newborn Jesus. The image has always struck me as a supreme capture of the mystery of the holy child; the human infant incarnating the god - beginning and eternity in one body. What in particular thrills me about the image is the three wise men acknowledging the child as an entity even they should bow before. This is a mystery. They are the wisest, adult, fully formed men, cultivated and at their peak. Yet they kneel for a newborn child. Why?

Christmas has become a celebration of the child; the presents, the Santa Claus and the decorated tree - joys of the child. These days I'm working on an idea for a Christmas play for next Christmas. Without thinking about the Adoration of the Magi, I had inserted a child, a stillborn child, into the situation. And I kept returning to this child, thinking about how to use it, when suddenly I realized that it was the central theme and mystery of my piece; the holy child. I already had a notion that somehow this child would come back from the dead, and now with my new realization I'm sure of this. What remains is how to plot the route to this miraculous event. This will demand two things from me.

First to delve more into the mystery of the holy child. It's a variation on 'life renewed', but also different. More about the miracle that life can happen at all. That out of a lifeless cosmos, life can spring forth. And about the way a newborn is full of promise, still connected to the great unknown. Where did it come from? Who will it become? And what are the mythical circumstances under which this miracle will happen? 'Life renewed' happens when life is dying. When the times are dark and at their end. Is it the same for 'the holy child'?

Secondly I need to figure out what obstacles and conflicts are blocking the way to the miracle for my two main characters. What tests do they need to undergo? What is their problem, their unbalance and how can they resolve it? If the miracle happens in the darkest hour, I'll need to get them to exactly that point.

I'm also trying to remember great dramas with this mystery at the centre. Maybe "The Seventh Seal" by Bergmann? Or "Small Change" by Truffaut, where the midpoint is an infant's miraculous survival of a fall out of a window from 4th floor - quite contrary to Antichrist's inciting incident, where the infant dies and sends the parents into the woods to experience an altogether different mystery. Perhaps there are not a whole lot of drama based upon the mystery of the miraculous child?

This is where I am with my idea for a Christmas play. I began at a more superficial level, but with an awareness to keep my eyes open for the deeper mystery. The question which put me on the right track was: "why do we celebrate Christmas?".

Please, don't kill your darlings

How many times have you heard the expression "Kill your darlings"?. It has become an almost universally accepted cliché applied to any kind of problematic element of a script. How many stop to examine the wisdom of the expression? Or what it really means?

Oh, Darling? Who are you?

A real darling is an element, which the creator has a somewhat passionate and irrational relationship to. The creator cannot offer a reasonable explanation to why it should be in the script and how it relates to the other elements. There's good reason to single out such elements, as they can disrupt an otherwise well-functioning script. And if the darling is crucial to the premise of a script, it can sour the whole affair. So the advice of killing off darlings could seem quite rational.

It is most certainly more easy, than to examine if there's a deeper rationale behind the darling. Especially for producers and script consultants. But it is more like treating a symptom, than the disease. Or like aborting a passionate love affair, even before it has begun, because its not practical.

Your mystery lover

Obeying to the dramatic principle of mystery, we should instead engage the mysterious darling. It could be the hidden river, the deep well, the source from where the underlying mystery of a great drama springs. Imagine your were Ted Tally in the early stages of adapting the book for "The SIlence of the Lambs". You are having problems incorporating the idea of Clarice Starling's childhood experience with the screaming lambs. It has become a darling for you, but it doesn't really make sense. The script consultant, the producer, everybody tells you it slows down the action, that the flashback to her childhood are clumsy and irrelevant. They tell you the film is about a young female detective trying to save another woman in a man's world, not about lambs and childhood. Under the pressure you are ready to abandon, or kill your darling. But there's just something about this image, a girl, all alone in the world, listening to the screaming of the lambs, wanting to save just one of them, that you are immensely attracted to. Then it strikes you - its about loneliness. Clarice Starling's struggle is not really about being a hero and saving others, but about escaping her own loneliness. It not about being a woman in a man's world - that's only a circumstance, an aspect of her loneliness. Its a heroic, tragic struggle, but one ultimately doomed to fail, as we are always alone. That's the deeper mystery of your drama - so even if she succeeds in saving the woman from the serial killer, she is still alone. Suddenly all the pieces begin to fall into place, you see how loneliness is present in the material; the conversations with Hannibal Lecter, who's also an immensely lonely figure, the single touch between them, the final line from him: "Tell me, Clarice, has the lambs stopped screaming" - and her lack of answer.

It could have been you, so please, stop killing your darlings. Or other people's darlings. Engage the mystery lover.

Spank your darlings

The real wisdom of Kill Your Darlings lies in the cynical treatment of something which can be sentimental or even sacrosanct to the creator. The darling might need a rough hand, before the true love can be revealed. And if it is true love, then it should be able to endure some spanking and rough questions.

When I work as either creator or consultant on dramatic scripts, I'll be the first top defend even the most absurd darlings against the meddling of producers, but also the first to ask the really difficult questions, but questions aimed at revealing the darling's real nature. Questions about how it could relate to other elements, what it reminds us of (principle of unity). Or about what kind of conflict it does or could involves (principle of conflict). How it's tonality sounds, is it comedic, tragic, and how (principle of tonality). Overall seeking an underlying theme, truth or what have we; the mystery. In this process you might very well discover that your darling doesn't really belong in the present script, but at least you will know a bit more about why, and perhaps have a strong idea for new script.

So please, spank your darlings, but don't kill them.

Workshop in Edinburgh

Workshop, Friday 17th of December, 2-5 pm, Edinburgh.

As a dramatic writer, you can easily get lost in the woods of rules and dramaturgical models. I've tried go beneath the surface of models and rules in search for the basic principles of drama - to let them lead me in my own work as both a dramatic writer and stage director. So far I operate with 5 basic principles:

1. Conflict: This is the basis of drama, change and consciousness. Obvious, but the importance often overlooked.

2. Tonality: We have two fundamental tonalities in drama; comedy and tragedy - they are of huge importance for the construction of a drama, which has more similarities to the construction of music than to litterature.

3. Character: The old discussion, plot or character, I argue that character comes first, especially the will of the character.

4. Mystery: Drama has its origin in the ancient Greek religious mystery-plays. It still plays a vital part for the construction of drama.

5. Unity: Aristoteles old principle still holds great value, when applied and understood as a principle.

I'll introduce these principles and demonstrate their application in some quick exercises. If you plan to attend the workshop, you should bring a scene of around 2 minutes length for the exercises. You can also read more about the principles on this blog. To sign up for the workshop and further info, contact me at tcjakobsen@gmail.com

Troels Christian Jakobsen graduated from The National Danish Playwright Education in 1997. He has worked as a dramaturge at the Royal Theater of Denmark, as a writer for TV, film and theater, scriptconsultant for many Greek feature films and as a stage director.

Allied with the actor

Here we go further examining the writers potential alliance with the actor.

Actors will often have a sense of the well-proportioned scene. It can both be a intellectual or primary, bodily sense of drama's structure. But most of all, actors are worth listening to as a scriptwriter because they will be living with your fictional work, taking responsibility for it, investing it with their own bodies and minds. They'll sense when lines doesn't work, are surplus or go in a wrong direction.

Of course, sometimes an actor can have problems with a line or element which is difficult for them personally. It might provoke a fear in them, often unconsciously, and so they will try to argue rationally, objectively why the line or element is bad. If you sense this is the case, be happy, because it is a great opportunity to strengthen the alliance with the actor. If you can explore the actors objection to the element and reach a satisfying resolution without antagonizing him or her, you'll have expanded your mutual trust.

One of my main tools to exploring differences of opinion, both in relation to actors, but also when working with writers/directors/producers, is to focus on asking questions and establishing a mutual agreement on the primary logic and mechanics of a script/scene. Its a bit Socratic, but without the didactic approach. The key is to allow for the possibility that you are wrong, even when you damn sure you're absolutely right.

In such conversations I listen a lot after what I call 'hidden gems'. Because often hidden in an objection, no matter how rational or irrational, you can find an unknown treasure. An experience, an emotion, a story or a moment which can bring a new aspect to the script.

Actors are the writer's best ally, alone for the reason that they have the most to win by making you better, by helping you to succeed - and many of the understand how to be truly collaborative.