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June 07, 2006
My Movie Girls, Part One
"Movies," I tell My Movie Girls, "are a moral landscape."
My Movie Girls.
That's how I've come to think of these amazing young ladies.
Four of whom are graduating high school in a few days and have been my students for four years -- since they were freshmen.
So you can see why I think of them affectionately as: My Movie Girls.
These four, when they first entered my classroom, had never seen a script. Didn't know Fade-In from Fade-Out. They just loved movies and had a burning desire to learn how to write them, how to tell a story, how to make a character walk and talk and live and--giggles her--perhaps love.
"What's a slugline, Mr. Avrech?"
"It's the line in the script that indicates INTERIOR or EXTERIOR, LOCATION, DAY or NIGHT.
"How do I show two people on a phone at the same time, Mr. Avrech?"
"You usually write: INTERCUT as NEEDED.
"Is it possible to write a movie with just one character in it?"
"Only if you're French."
First day of Screenwriting Workshop 101 , there are thirty girls in the classroom.
For twenty minutes, I lecture with passion. I discuss how scripts are different than any other mode of story-telling. I compare films to architecture.
Screenwriters are craftsmen, we are draftsmen, I explain. More than anything, I endeavor to demolish the romantic and ultimately destructive notions of poetic inspiration.
"Real writers," I insist, "are like plumbers, carpenters, engineers; "we go to work, we solve problems; we slave away like any other hard-working slob. Writing is 95% perspiration, 5% inspiration."
Most of the students look like a klieg light's been dropped on their collective heads. But it's the only way to get these girls to make the leap from flowery doodlers to disciplined screenwriters.
My lecture continues. Half the girls are by now carefully studying their split ends.
"Film is a moral landscape... Less is more... Writing is rewriting... Any questions?"
A hand in the back of the room shoots up.
"Mr. Avrech?"
"Yes?"
"You, um, like, made a movie with, Melanie Griffith, is she, like, nice?"
"Before I answer, I have two rules in this class that you should all be aware of and if you cannot abide by these rule you should LIKE drop this class right now.
"Rule Number One: You may not chew gum within my field of vision -- ever. Ladies, you may not be aware of this, but people who chew gum look like cows. I have no interest in teaching people who look like cows. It is gross.
"Rule Number Two: You may not use the expression 'like' except where it is approapriate, as in: I like Mr. Avrech. He is a likable rogue. You may not say: Mr. Avrech, can I, like, hand in my assignment late 'cause like, you know, my house got blown away in you know, like a tornado."
Three jaws freeze in mid-chew. Several grammatically challenged young ladies exchange profoundly worried glances.
"Mr. Avrech?"
She separates her words like bricks. "What. About. Melanie. Griffith?"
She did it. She did not say "like." What an heroic effort.
"Everyone who's in this class because they want to hear about movie stars raise your hand?" I announce.
A week later, six girls remain in class.
My Movie Girls. The four of them who have been with me since they were freshmen write like angels, like pros. They are all going on to college, but any one of them could skip those four years and go directly into the film business -- and do very well. They are that good.
Week after week, month after month, year after year, My Movie Girls trudge into the classroom at the end of a long, long day and put in another hour, an hour of hard work that they don't have to do. Understand, yeshiva kids have a dual educational program. They have the standard curriculum, and that's already a prep school killer. And on top of that Type-A pressure-cooker the girls have the Jewish studies, and let me tell you, those classes are even more difficult than the secular studies.
The school days stretches from seven-thirty am to four-thirty pm. Added into this mix are sports, and chesed, charity programs, the various clubs, and then the girls have, yup, no mercy-- homework. Hours of it. Every once in a while one of My Movie Girls will ask to speak with me after class, and all she'll do is just sit there, weep and sob, and tear apart a tissue, because school pressure is just overwhelming.
The Screenwriting Workshop is scheduled at the end of the official school day. My girls are exhausted and hungry. I let them snack in class. I keep things informal, and chatty, but they know that this is serious business. They form a crescent around my desk. One by one, each girl reads her pages, and each girl gets well-deserved applause after she reads. It's daunting to read in front of an audience and at first the girls resisted, but now they can't wait to do it.
After reading out loud, the scenes are critiqued. I remember my creative writing classes in college--where alliances were formed and yours truly was weekly eviscerated. My Jewish stories were deeply uncool and out-of-favor with just about everybody. My stories were "too traditional" and I was, what was the word that was burned into my foerhead? Oh yes, "provincial."
Anyway, my girls are kind and generous to one another. Over the years they have learned that the biggest structural weaknessses are usually found in Act Two; they know that most dialogue is unnecessary, and that an ending is not necessarily a resolution. And you had better believe that I have pounded into their skulls the almost holy necessity of the set-up and pay-off.
From the beginning I made it clear that this is a workshop where we help each other become better writers, not settle petty grievances. And bless their hearts that's what My Movie Girls have done. I wonder, I really wonder what will happen when they get to college and no longer have the innocence, the generosity of spirit of this wonderul peer group to rely on. It's the only writer's workshop these fine young women have ever known, they don't realize what a rare gift it is.
Last week we had our last class, our last workshop.
I sat with each girl for an end-of-year evaluation. It's hard talking with a lump as big as a walnut in your throat. It's hard telling four girls that their unadorned decency helped me get through the awful dark days of Ariel's ZT'L death.
I tell each of My Movie Girls to start a diary, not to write more than a page a day, to ignore the weather, and politics (that's right!) and concentrate instead fully on the personal; to compose each entry as a classic three-act structure, to use everything they have learned in the workshop and distill it into that one page a day.
I tell My Movie Girls that this diary will sharpen their writing skills, that it will become a golden treasury of memories that would otherwise be forgotten; that in years to come they will thank me for recommending this diary.
Each of My Movie Girls thanks me for being their teacher, thanks me for these four years, for opening their eyes to so many new movies, for writing their college recommendations.
One of My Movie Girls says: "Mr. Avrech, I just like, um want to thank you for like, um well, like everything."
I can only stare, appalled.
She smiles hugely and says: "Just kidding."
My Movie Girls. See, didn't I tell you? Set-up and pay-off.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at June 7, 2006 10:49 AM
Comments
Seraphic Secret is private property, that's right, it's an extension of our home, and as such, Karen and I have instituted two Seraphic Rules and we ask commentors to act respectfully.
1. No profanity.2. No Israel bashing. We debate, we discuss, we are respectful. You know what Israel bashing is. The world is full of it. Seraphic Secret is one of the few places in the world that will not tolerate this form of anti-Semitism. That's it. Break either of these rules and you will be banned.
WOW...your course and methodology of teaching sound so interesting, exciting -- and inviting. How lucky these young Orthodox Jewish women are to have an Orthodox Jewish (young) man teach them the (according to some Orthodox, the unorthodox) art of scriptwriting.
I think this post has a great title, and I think the story behind it would make for a wonderful movie itself -- either a British-type comedy, or some kind of ABC Afterschool Special or Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation. Get these girls to write the script...for extra credits!
Kol HaKavod for teaching them valuable lessons, and for gaining such personal pleasure from doing so.
Posted by: Pearl at June 7, 2006 04:43 PM
Pearl:
I never taught before in my life. I did it because I remember how starved I was in yeshiva high school for some kind of outlet for my creativity.
It took me a while to figure things out but my "methodology" emerged pretty naturally and much to my surprise it works just beautifully.
The workshop is only right for highly motivated kids who are willing to work very hard, but I teach my students more than screenwriting, I teach them how to think creatively about, well, most everything.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at June 7, 2006 06:07 PM
Robert, I have actually had the good fortune of being taught by you (okay, so shooting isn't exactly screenwriting, but the principles remain the same). From the short amount of time I spent being instructed by you, I am familiar with the gentle care you must have bestowed on these girls, and the hard work ethic you surely instilled in each of them. They were lucky to have you, and it sounds like, you were lucky to have them.
Believe me, they will never forget you...and when one of them (or all of them) stand up to accept their academy award or emmy, they will remember that it was Mr. Avrech who, like, um, nurtured their hearts and touched their souls.
Posted by: Cruisin-mom at June 7, 2006 06:56 PM
Randi:
What can I say but, like, um, thanks.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at June 7, 2006 08:18 PM
Wow. They're blessed to have you in their lives and vice versa. I guess it's too late for me to enroll, right?
Finally, re Melanie Griffith: no comment!
Posted by: Albert Fuchs at June 7, 2006 09:10 PM
Too late? I am begging you to let me enroll.
As for Pearl's movie idea... I can see it now: Mona Lisa Smile meets Dead Poets Society.
(On second thought, maybe not)
Posted by: ralphie at June 7, 2006 11:29 PM
Albert:
The Yeshiva is fairly strict about separating boys and girls, so I'm going to have to reject your application. Sorry.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at June 8, 2006 02:02 AM
Ralphie:
You could come in drag. Yeah, that'll fool the Rebbeim.
I considered getting up on the desk and telling the class to look at the world from a different POV, as in "Dead Poets Society" and then I realized the girls would rightly consider me a complete knucklehead.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at June 8, 2006 02:16 AM
The Melanie Griffith story is, like, hilarious.
The funniest thing I ever heard was on WABC in NY, when the host turned the program over the the traffic announcer, a woman, and asked her to do a teen rendition. "The traffic is, uh, backed up all the way to the, like, turnpike, and, umm... I-don't-know-why"
I'm sure you have your girls a pep talk about how vicious the industry can be, starting in colledge. Or did you leave them to find out on their own?
Posted by: hmmm at June 8, 2006 07:10 AM
You teach a course in English writing that where students learn immediately marketable skills?
Wow, like, cosmic!
I don't think they'll ever forget what you've done for them. A few years from now, you'll be even more proud of them and the powerful movies they will create.
Posted by: Solomon2 at June 8, 2006 09:12 AM
Oh great, more competition! Actually, good screenwriters should always be a welcome thing for other good screenwriters, (or those of us who think we're good); it's when Hollywood and TV start getting into lame remakes and reality TV that things get really tough.
And you know, this is a wonderful thing you do and, in my opinion, a good model for what we should be doing in all of our schools. Too much of formal schooling is about basic skills-building, which is absolutely necessary, but think how much better high school would be for American kids if they learned a real job skill from someone still doing that job or recently retired! This is what I try to do in my NYU classes; present a course where the top students would be ready to work in a specific job immediately after graduation. Liberal arts colleges usually offer no courses like that for ther $40k per year tuition.
Posted by: Jake at June 8, 2006 09:12 AM
Hmmm:
I tend to keep away from Hollywood tales and focus intensely on the craft of screenwriting, and screening a few seminal films. I do mention, in passing, that Hollywood is like any other business: tough, competitive, and filled with utterly ruthless people who will cut your throat two ways.
Posted by: Robert Avrech at June 8, 2006 09:30 AM
Solomon:
It is interesting, I've been teaching at the yeshiva for 7 years. The girls who take my class and stick with it year after year, are, as you can well imagine, unusually talented and disciplined. So far, not one has decided to go into the film business. They seem perfectly content to learn the craft and then move on to other things.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 8, 2006 09:48 AM
I can just see your class... I wish I were there! : ) Sounds like those girls are going to do quite well!
Posted by: Irina at June 8, 2006 09:54 AM
Irina:
Here's an inside look:
Top 10 Things Overheard in Robert Avrech's Screenwriting Class
by Jake Novak
10) "Miriam, your script is obviously completely plagiarized from "The Seven Sammurai"... you get an A+!"
9) "Um Mr. Avrech, I've been watching a lot of current movies and are you SURE we can use words with more than one syllable in our scripts?"
8) "I wanted to write a Jewish version of 'Pulp Fiction,' but there aren't enough Yiddish curse words."
7) "You're 17th century romance is lovely Shulamit, but next time, put in some more scenes with automatic weapons."
6) "This script is a Jewish horror movie. It's about 6 Orthodox teens trapped in the haunted ruins of Grossinger's."
5) "Spielberg would never make this script, all the Jews in it are alive."
4) "I'm sorry Rochel, but this scene is just not believable; it takes place in a kosher restaurant's CLEAN bathroom."
3) "Before we get started I'll need your parents to sign these 5-Starbucks-coffees-per-class permission slips."
2) "This isn't gum, it's the same piece of shmurah matzo I've been trying to swallow since Pesach."
1) "I know it's been 3 weeks, but haven't had a chance to read your scripts yet; I had to change the lightbulbs in my dining room."
Posted by: Jake at June 8, 2006 10:19 AM
Sorry for the typo! #7 should say "Your" no "You're"
Posted by: Jake at June 8, 2006 10:21 AM
Wonderful!
What an empowering gift you've given these girls! The experience must have pushed their creativity to blossom, which can only enhance their lives - no matter what their choices.
If ever their lives will revolve around working and wiping baby bottoms and cooking kugels: it is expereinces like the one you provided for them, that will give them strength, to not plague themselves with "what if's?" but to know their talents and choose contenment.
Posted by: Yael at June 8, 2006 10:34 AM
Jake, you are one funny fellow. I especially love your #1 reason...shows you've been paying attention in class at Seraphic University!
As for the horror flick at Grossinger's...I think it would have to be reworked just a tad -- didn't they convert the property to time-share condos? No haunted ruins there, except for maybe some of Jennie Grossinger's recipes lying around.
Posted by: Pearl at June 8, 2006 11:15 AM
Pearl:
Great point! I did not know about Grossinger's. I need you to be my researcher. Hey, it worked for Harper Lee.
Posted by: Jake at June 8, 2006 11:47 AM
The list is hilarious!
My favorite was # 2.
Posted by: Irina at June 8, 2006 12:00 PM
I should have added that the title of the movie in #6 is "I Know What You Fressed Last Summer"
Posted by: Jake at June 8, 2006 12:36 PM
4 years with the same 4 students is extraordinary. Your pride, gratitude, and discipline shine beam. Is it OK to chew gum while commeting on your blog?
Posted by: Jeremiah at June 8, 2006 03:13 PM
Irina:
My Movie Girls from all 7 years are doing very well. A student from my first year of teaching just visited yesterday and we had a wonderful talk. She's going to graduate school in economics.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 8, 2006 04:33 PM
Yael:
You are oh so right. I never really set out to produce Hollywood screenwriters. I just knew that there were Orthodox girls who needed a creative outlet and no matter what they do in your life, this creative endeavor will always serve them well.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 8, 2006 05:11 PM
Jake:
Were you in drag in my classroom?
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 8, 2006 05:12 PM
Jeremiah:
Yes, I am very proud. Cyber-Chewing is fine.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 8, 2006 05:20 PM
Robert:
I have many enemies... I must travel in disguise.
Posted by: Jake at June 8, 2006 06:07 PM
Jake:
I thought that girl in the back was, unusually, er, homely.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 8, 2006 11:16 PM
Darn it, I am like too late to make any good "like" jokes and too tired to craft a list that is remotely close to Jakes.
So I'll go a different direction.
Real writers," I insist, "are like plumbers,
Cool, I have the perfect pair of pants. ;) Sounds like a wonderful class, they were lucky to have you.
Posted by: Jack at June 9, 2006 12:06 AM
Now I can picture you with the toolbelt, Robert. In the loops and holsters:
a pencil, a pen, a highligting marker, en eyeglass case, a remote control, a pistol, an Uzi, and ... a samurai sword.
Posted by: Jeremiah at June 9, 2006 12:17 AM
A pistol and an Uzi? C'mon, that's overkill!
Robert, I'm suprised your Movie Girls go on to bigger and better things. What could be bigger and better other than Hollywood? :) Nevertheless, the critical and creative thinking skills you have taught will remain with them forever.
I wouldn't be suprised if that grad student decides to title her thesis "On the Economic Structures of Movie Screenwriting".
Posted by: Solomon2 at June 9, 2006 01:17 AM
Jack:
I was luck to have My Movie Girls as students for so many years.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 9, 2006 08:54 AM
Jeremiah:
I still have to get Karen to buy me that tool belt. But I do have the weapons covered.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 9, 2006 08:56 AM
Solomon:
Yup, it's the creative thinking that really counts. One former student, who's now in another field entirely, told me recently that my screenwriting class taught her how to think in new ways about "everything."
Made my day.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 9, 2006 09:00 AM
Sorry I haven't been around lately, but we finally got our phone and *internet* hooked up, so I'm back in blogland. I wish I had had your class in high school instead of the creative writing one I had - utter waste of time, since the teacher just wanted us to kiss up to her. The practice was good, but I didn't get the discipline that you talked about, and that's what would serve me well these days...
Posted by: SS at June 11, 2006 12:34 PM
SS:
Too many creative writing classes end up doing the exact opposite of what they are supposed to do. I'm not sure why this happens, but I vowed that my class would be different. Maybe because I'm a volunteer, maybe because I see writing as "problem solving" and not some romantic poetic endeavor -- maybe because of all these factors I managed to avoid all the terrible pitfalls that come with creative writing classes.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at June 11, 2006 07:16 PM
The Yeshiva is fairly strict about separating boys and girls, so I'm going to have to reject your application. Sorry.
I wish we could, like, run the public schools this way. Not a snowball's chance in the current social and legal climate, of course; but I have no doubts the kids would learn more.
Posted by: Kent at June 12, 2006 08:54 AM
Kent:
If there were boys in the class, well, My Movie Girls would never feel free to write what they write, to express what they express--and in all honesty, I would never teach such a class. Teenage boys and girls in the same classroom. That is madness as far as real education is concerned.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 12, 2006 09:10 AM
Teenage boys and girls in the same classroom. That is madness as far as real education is concerned.
You know that, and I know that -- but it is quite literally unthinkable to most of the public.
Posted by: Kent at June 13, 2006 10:03 AM
Kent:
I believe that many parents would probably listen to a reasonable argument in favor of separating boys and girls in classrooms. But it's the "educators" who would never stand for such a policy. These elites suffer from a disease called: TMGS. It's a recent diagnosis, quite serious, whose effects on our children's education are far reaching and quite tragic.
TMGS: Too Much Graduate School. In which reasonably bright people go to school, lose all common sense and every basic value that binds decent societies together. For instance: everyone knows that boys and girls are different. Until they get to graduate school and learn that the sexes are, get this, "cultural constructs." Thus: TMGS.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 13, 2006 10:16 AM
For what it's worth, I have a Ph.D. from Caltech. TMGS is a concept that resonates with me. I kept my sanity by joining the Caltech Men's Glee Club, which consisted mostly of undergraduates who still had a grip on their sanity.
Posted by: Kent at June 14, 2006 12:50 PM
Kent:
In my experience, people who join Glee Clubs are usually on the more sane side of the social and political spectrum. Glee Clubs speak/sing to our more traditional and conservative values. They remind us of the virtues of Frank Capra-like small Town America.
Any DVD's we can listen to?
Posted by: Robert Avrech at June 14, 2006 12:58 PM
what a wonderful piece. just great. i learned new information and i like laughed out loud.
Posted by: rabbi neil at June 14, 2006 10:12 PM
Any DVD's we can listen to?
Not of the Caltech Men's Glee Club. I'm not that young.
I have a CD of a more recent performance with my local choral society, but I think I'd feel funny linking to an upload of it here. We performed Handel's Messiah.
I think you're right about why the Glee Club was an oasis of sanity.
Posted by: Kent at June 15, 2006 10:32 AM
Rabbi Neil:
Glad you learned a few things. And I like to make you laugh.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 15, 2006 10:43 AM
Kent:
Good call. Thanks for being so sensitive. We all have our islands of sanity, don't we?
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 15, 2006 10:45 AM
We all have our islands of sanity, don't we?
Some wag once said that American universities were islands of oppression in an ocean of freedom.
Posted by: Kent at June 15, 2006 07:40 PM
Kent:
How true, how true. Look at what the tyrants did to the President at Harvard.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 15, 2006 11:04 PM
Wow. Those girls are so lucky. How I wish I would have had just such an opportunity. I adore the arts, especially music, literature, and drama. And yet, the high school I attended, while great in many ways, was sorely lacking in these areas. I loved to write (and still do) but I wasn't lucky enough to have someone really instruct me in the craft. I was just given 'A' grades and it was left at that. In all fairness, the English teachers weren't writers and so they could hardly be expected to shed much light on the subject beyond waht you could read in a textbook. The only real joy I got out of English class was when we read plays. Whether it was Hamlet, Pygmalion, or Macbeth, my class would unanimously "elect" me to read the main part and I would throw myself into it. True, I was reading against voices with little to no expression and life, but, if I put my mind to it, I could almost imagine myself in a serious drama class with a teacher that would stop me and teach me what works better and why.
Posted by: Ayelet at June 22, 2006 05:04 PM
Ayelet:
I volunteered to teach this class because I knew there were girls like you in the yeshivas, smart and creative, who hunger to express themselves. I hope that more yeshivas will make room for creative workshops. Our kids sorely need it.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech
at June 23, 2006 06:04 AM
