Fish in the Dark: A Play by Larry David
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Guys, I think I figured out why I don’t like plays.
Real quick on this one, it’s Larry David, it’s like an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, and if that’s what you like, you’ll like this too. If you’re not into it, then don’t read this. I’m a huge fan, so there you go.
Alright, plays.
There are two dialog-related rules that I try to follow in writing.
The first one is that you shouldn’t try to advance the plot through dialog. Yes, I know that dialog is often a catalyst for plot (“I have to tell you something”) or can bring the inner stuff going on with a non-narrator to the front (“When you did X, I felt Y”), but for the most part, it’s a good thing to avoid. Think of dialog advancing plot as the worst version of Sherlock Holmes. We have a guy solving mysteries in his mind and narrating aloud to Watson a detailed version of how he figured out what he figured out. The BBC Sherlock is compelling as all hell, and that has a lot to do with the “mind palace” as a physical place on screen, the explanations being rushed and meted out while some kind of other action is going on, the fact that we see all the clues and answers in real time and only need quick flashes to get on board, and the straight-up charm of the whole affair. If it was just Sherlock and Watson in a room chatting, we’d all wish Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman would just quit this whole thing and get back to desolating and Smaug’ing.
Plays are almost all dialog, and rely quite a bit on dialog to advance the plot. Think about a Shakespearean character. A bunch of people run off stage, spotlight on one dude, and then he says aloud/to himself exactly what he’s going to do here in just a minute. He says it to no one, really. Just, you know, talking about an intricate plot out loud under a spotlight. Like we all do from time to time.
The other problem is that plot-advancing dialog doesn’t usually feel real. If you listen to the way people talk, the way most people talk doesn’t actually involve listening and responding, listening and responding, and a dialog set that’s like a staircase, ratcheting up step by step, taking us upwards in terms of tension and forwards in terms of plot. If you listen to how people talk, they hear someone tell a story, ask clarifying questions sometimes, and for the most part, seem to be waiting their turn to say their own piece. RARELY does someone listen to someone else talk and respond to what that person actually said. That’s how interviews are done, but not conversations. Before you assume I’m just talking to the wrong people, listen in on some conversations in public and see what you think.
Okay, here’s the other thing.
Writing should sound like people talking. That’s a stylistic, personal preference, but it’s why I don’t really enjoy certain kinds of writing, especially academic writing. When someone says “The writing, it’s like he’s trying to prove he’s smart” I think what people usually mean is “This doesn’t sound like someone talking, and I don’t believe in the authenticity of this voice at all.”
Lots of plays sound like writing to me. Not like talking. The way they talk is always a little too cute or clever. They know what they’re going to say next, always, because THEY DO know what they’re going to say next. I think it’s built in to the aesthetics of plays to have this kind of dialog, and that’s cool, but it just rubs me the wrong way.
One more thing I hate about plays:
How the hell have we all decided that the thing in Hamlet where he does a fake play is a good plan? Is this supposed to be a good plan, or are we, as audience, supposed to be like “This guy is a fucking idiot, and that’s the ride I’m on”? Because if the second is true, then I guess it makes sense. But Ham seems to be putting a lot of weight behind his stepdad being made uncomfortable by a play.
Let’s say I suspected my partner of cheating. I don’t think that I would be like “I’ve got it. I’ll show her Fatal Attraction, see if she becomes physically uncomfortable in a noticeable way, and then I’ll have all the proof I need.” Seriously? She shifts in her chair, and I jump up all “AH-HA!”?
Nailed it.