The same but different

We had an exercise for screenwriting where we were all given the same backstory and characters and premise and then had to write a scene for it. Part of the point of the exercise was making sure we all know how to properly format things. And part of it was to prove a point: there may not be any new stories, but every old story told by a new person is unique. They're all up on the class web page now so we can read them before tomorrow and that point is very well proved. One was set in 1944 (mine), one was set in 2114, the rest were contemporary. And if you had stripped the names off I probably still could have said who had written what. We all bring ourselves to our work and so it has to be unique.

Mom was having a similar experience this week in her pottery class. They were making mountains. And that was the assignment: make a mountain with a house. And she said she was really entertained by how different everyone's mountains were.

I think that's what I like about art and creativity. It has to be unique even when it's similar just because every artist is unique. But also every viewer is unique and everyone will look at the same thing and get something different out of it. So no, there may not be any new stories, but every telling, and every hearing has its own newness.

If you're interested in my take on the assignment. Here's what we were given to start:

Situation:

                       

A woman, 30’s, attractive, is married to a wealthy, successful businessman (you choose what he does) who supports the current administration, both in spirit and through financial contributions.  He travels a lot for business trips and sometimes leaves his wife feeling lonely. 

You decide what she does (works outside of  the house or not, has kids or not) day to day, but she’s a fairly innocent and optimistic sort of woman.  She has decided to volunteer at the nearby Veteran’s hospital because she feels compelled to do whatever she can for the injured soldiers who’ve returned home.  She’s on the fence as to whether or not she supports the war.

She’s not a trained nurse, so she’s been given snack duty—going into the patient’s rooms or to their beds, delivering magazines, juice, cookies, and sitting to chat with them. 

That’s all backstory. 

Scene (consider scene as or near the film’s opening): 

It is our woman’s first day on her volunteer job.  She’s a bit nervous, wheeling her cart, in front of these injured soldiers in their beds. 

She knocks on the door of a private room and wheels in her cart meekly; she’s heard this guy was the captain of the football team and all-around-hunk of her high school. 

The man on the bed is her age, in restraints (for reasons we do or don’t know) and  paralyzed from the waist down.  She doesn’t realize this at first.  He doesn’t recognize her.  

Either from dialogue or actions it’s clear he’s become jaded deeply about the military.  You decide her reaction.  She comes to give him a cookie or juice, sees he can’t feed himself, tries feeding him, he asks her to open up his restraints.  She resists, she’s the sort who always follows the rules.  He asks again, almost begs, tries whatever he can to get her to open them. 

You decide the scene’s climax and resolution. e

Here's a link to the PDF of what I did with it:

Holodak Screenplay Exercise.pdf

(when I tried to cut and paste it lost all the formatting and was impossible to read)