Screenwriter and therapist Dennis Palumbo shares three things to remember when writing mysteries and thrillers, from planting clues to character.
If you saw last year’s thriller Disturbia, do you remember the first clue Shia LaBeouf had that his neighbor was a serial killer? Me, neither. In the recent crime drama Fracture, what was the mistake Anthony Hopkins made that proved he killed his wife? You got me.
My point is that often beginner filmmakers think the most important aspect of a good thriller or film noir is the ingenuity of the crime and the unraveling of the clues. Which is why so many new filmmakers are scared to death of even trying to craft a mystery or thriller (what I call “killer movies”).
Fear no more. Yes, movie audiences like tightly-plotted narratives, clever red herrings, and gripping jolts of surprise. But these factors are not what make a thriller – no matter what kind – memorable. Take a look at films as seemingly different as Chinatown and The Silence of the Lambs, L.A. Confidential and The Bourne Identity. Even teen classics like Heathers and Wild Things. As best-selling crime author Michael Connelly wrote, “The best mysteries are about the mystery of character.”
But what does that mean? Let’s see.
The film opens: A crime against society is committed – a man is murdered, a bank is robbed, whatever. We, the viewer, want to know two things: who did it, and why.
At least that’s what we think we want.
What do we really want? We want order restored. We want the violator of the social compact – the killer, the thief, the blackmailer – caught, so that things in our world are set right once more.
But not just social order. The best genre films, whether noirs like Sea of Love or crime dramas like Michael Clayton, are also about the exploration and resolution of psychological tension. In other words, how do the characters interact? What do they want?
Case in point: whether a crime suspect is guilty or not, he or she invariably has a secret. A clandestine relationship, a trauma from the past that haunts them still, perhaps even a connection with the killer (or the victim) that helps complete an entire mosaic of possible motives, entanglements and intrigue.
Henry James famously said: “Plot is characters under stress.” Which means what?
Remember what it felt like when some kid broke a window at school and the principal gathered you and all your classmates together? Remember the mounting tension as the principal went down the line, interrogating each of you, sometimes even feigning humor or sympathy, but always with the relentless, eagle-eyed determination of a predator searching for his prey?
Well, do the characters in your film feel that way? How do they show it? Or, more importantly, how do they attempt to conceal it?
In most memorable films, this context of mutual suspicion and misdirection of motives is pivotal. It’s what keeps the suspense mounting for the viewer.
Another important aspect of “killer films” is the world the story inhabits. All renowned suspense films – from classics like Laura to Basic Instinct or A History of Violence – take place in a specific arena of life. The design industry, the “hip” San Francisco club scene, small-town America. Look at what the enclosed space of a high-rise building did for Die Hard.
But what does all of the above have to do with you and the crime story or thriller you’re making?
First, let’s look at your protagonist. And here’s where many new filmmakers get discouraged, and for a very understandable reason. When it comes to the lead character – whether world-weary cop or awkward teen, widowed single mom or gullible cheerleader – it seems they’ve all been done. How do you make your lead character unique?
There’s only one answer: ask yourself, what makes you unique? What scares you, interests you, makes you angry? What do you yearn for, or fear? What’s your deepest passion? This is where the seeds of an interesting, unusual protagonist are first sewn.
I know this from my own experience, both personal and professional. Many top thriller writers and directors are patients in my private practice, and I’ve witnessed first-hand how their own issues, prejudices and concerns are woven into their on-screen characters.
So why don’t you start by making a list of your own traits and interests, as suggested above? The closer the hero or heroine of your script is to you, the more vivid and engaging he or she will be to the viewer. After all, as Emerson said, “To know that what is true for you in your private heart is true for everyone – that is genius.”
Next, let’s look at the world of your film. What is the world you inhabit? What unique background do you have? What job or experience has marked or influenced you? It’s those details that create the backdrop for the crime, that make possible the intrigue, the suspense, the collision of characters. Think of the gambling background in the movie The Cooler. Or, famously, the isolated, claustrophobic milieu of Hitchcock’s Psycho.
Why is the background so important? Aside from being crucial to our sense of the reality of the story, a particular arena provides valuable help to the filmmaker when it comes to building narrative and creating suspense.
How? Simply put, the best narrative beats in a “killer movie” involve misdirection. For instance, a clue or incident may point the viewer in one direction, when actually, looked at from a different angle, it reveals something else.
For the filmmaker, trying to build suspense and plant significant information along the way – it’s much easier (and, I think, more organic) if the clues emerge from the world of the story. For example, most used-car salesmen don’t know where to get their hands on lethal yet undetectable poisons. They do know how to cut the brake lines of a car. (Or blackmail a mechanic to do it for them.)
I’m stressing the use of a vivid background and the investment in character development for two reasons.
First, because without these two aspects, no viewer will really care how clever or intricate the plot is. (As much as I admire the plotting in the film The Last of Sheila, I don’t love the movie because I don’t care about anyone in it.) Second, because of the happy fact that most good crime thrillers only have two or three real twists in them anyway.
This is really important. Most new filmmakers think the plot has to be filled with clues and twists. It doesn’t. One or two gems – the misleading planted evidence, the comment a suspect makes that belies his alibi – are all you need to happily surprise your audience.
Remember, too, that many clues are just as likely to indicate something that’s missing as they are to reveal something that’s present: the unfound murder weapon, the missing wedding ring on the victim’s finger. (Or, if it’s a David Fincher film, a missing finger itself.)
Okay, let’s wrap this up. The three things to keep in mind when writing mysteries are:
(1) Establish the unique character of the protagonist,
(2) Make narrative use of the world in which the story takes place, and
(3) Plant clues that derive from the particular aspects of that world.
Remember, everybody has some story, some incident, unique to them and them alone. All a filmmaker has to do is twist that story a little bit – the “what-if” that inspires all storytelling – and a “killer movie” emerges.
Because, in the end, that’s where all the best stories come from. Life itself.
The greatest mystery of all.
Formerly a Hollywood screenwriter (My Favorite Year; Welcome Back, Kotter, etc.),
Dennis Palumbo is now a licensed psychotherapist in private practice. His new book, From Crime to Crime (Tallfellow Press), is a collection of mystery short stories. Dennis’ website is www.dennispalumbo.com.
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