There’s nothing scarier than waking up in the morning to find extra-dimensional beasts preying on you through neuro-psychological dismemberment. Even worse, when you realize your species isn’t the top of that food chain anymore, you’re in for a post-apocalyptic nightmare of your darkest dreams, c/o director Susanne Bier. The film is Bird Box. Everyone was talking about it and I just got around to blogging my thoughts for you.
As a self-trained screenwriter and story theory enthusiast, it’s my job to pick away at screenwriter Eric Heisserer’s work for the common good of humanity. But what to pick on? What morsel has been left behind after months of blogging throughout all of North America? What crumbs of great storytelling did Screenwriter Eric leave behind? Of course, the general viewing population finds all manner of problems with Bird Box. So be it. The extra-dimensional beasts tend to be the source of everyone’s angst. What are these things? Or, who are they? How can they render us so helpless? And are they hiding under my bed and yours? Is this MKULTRA version 2?
I don’t know and I don’t care. The aliens are cool, whatever they are. What I do care about is how Bird Box pulled its film magic through good storytelling. And, yes, I did find a plot device to write about. The bad news is that it has nothing to do with these crazy beasties everyone is going ga-ga about. The good news is that you’ll be healthier for reading this blog. Here is my take: I was wondering why Screenwriter Eric spent so much time with Jessica (Sarah Paulson). Jessica is Malorie’s sister. Jessica is Malorie’s only contact with the world. Jessica dies about ten minutes into the film.
What if I told you that Jessica’s death scene played a big role in Bird Box? A really big role at that. Say, if Jessica didn’t die, you and I would not be sharing this digital space right now because the film would be missing so much emotional profundity that neither of us would have given it a chance. For all its faults, Bird Box, without Jessica’s death scene, simply would have come off as a cheap B-movie Netflix Original. I understand your confusion. Jessica doesn’t seem that important. She gets killed off early. She doesn’t add information to the plot. How could she be so important? But you’re wrong. You have to consider the emotional value of the death scene. That’s right, “emotional value”. How did that scene contribute to the film’s pathos? As a viewer, you would not likely notice anything (unless you read my blogs to help, of course), but as a writer, I can see it in spades. Jessica’s death scene had an emotional impact that you’re unaware of.
Do you recall what Jessica did right before she died? She turned to Malorie (Sandra Bullock) despite being in the thick of a psychotic delusion and gave her sister a sad look before killing herself. She walked right into a speeding garbage truck as if she couldn’t help herself. Then, in a matter of seconds, you literally see her get pulverized. (By the way, I do think this act of pulverization was quite B-movie-like; low budget and unrealistic. This isn’t a Quentin Tarantino film after all.)
Story tip: If you really want to become a great writer or a great viewer for that matter, then I highly recommend applying emotional intelligence to your storytelling experience. In other words, don’t just figure out the plot, figure out your feelings too. Your feelings tell you the real story. Screenwriters call this “dramatic action”, it’s the emotional component that works adjacently to the physical action in the movie.
So, back to Bird Box. Jessica’s death scene is defined by a close-up shot of her helplessly dying in front of her sister. The two of them saw what happened to others, but now it’s come to hit home too. What did you feel when Jessica looked over to Malorie? We just spent ten screen minutes getting to know the ‘sister act’. The girls insulted each other, criticized each other and even hit below the belt, at least once. I mean, these are best friend sisters. How could you not fall for it? Whom among us don’t have a relationship like this or wish we had? It’s relatable, likable and entertaining. Trust me, you got drawn in on some level. So, when Jessica steps in front of the garbage truck we must have felt something. Right? Sadness, perhaps? Outrage? Helplessness?
Screenwriter Eric’s job is to establish the emotional context for the film. You’re not just getting set up with the plot. You’re getting set up with dramatic action too. The overall tone of the film sensitizes the audience to film details which leaves an inedible impression of story. Story isn’t just action (called ‘plot’), it’s also whom that action happens to (called ‘story’). You experience the film viscerally, meaning that we experience the character’s struggle at a distance. So try to get past the aliens debacle for a minute longer and consider that you just viscerally took part in an emotional trauma when Jessica died. That’s right. An emotional trauma. A trauma happens when you experience a disturbing event that you cannot stop. You feel hurt and helpless – and consequently carry it with you for the rest of your life. In this case, you carry it with you for the rest of the film.
My point: When Jessica died it hurt enough to set the tone for the rest of the film. Her death forced us into a deeper emotional space because we got to know her so well, thanks, in large part, to Sarah Paulson’s great performance. Her close-up shot probably made us feel anger and outrage. It’s important because this scene communicated just how ugly life had become. More importantly, it was personal too. Jessica wasn’t a stranger, she was Malorie’s loving sister. We saw that. She’s someone we can all relate to.
Remember, we’re talking about supernatural beings that emit some kind off evil pheromone designed to confuse its prey before killing them off. That’s not unheard of in the animal world. Animals have all kinds of sneaky ways of debilitating their prey. It sucks, but it could happen to us too, at least conceptually. Now imagine watching your sister die like that. That sucks even more. No? Now watch on it on screen, and yes, it hurts enough that you’re jolted by it. These aliens really mean business. Life is dangerous.
Another story tip: Screenwriters have a job of flooding your brain with negative chemicals only to offer you purge them at the end. We create struggle, uncertainty and pain, then make it all go away. It feels good and you come back for more. Thank you.
That’s also why Jessica’s death scene is important. It’s probably the most overlooked scene in Bird Box. Emotional. Sensitive. Unpredictable. Painful. All this flooded into our brains and let’s face it, left on us on the edge of our seats. Like Malorie, we feel an innate sense of danger. If this scene didn’t happen, we wouldn’t be able to relate to the other characters she meets, all of whom experienced similar trauma. Jessica’s death scene destroyed Malorie’s world on many levels and it altered our experience of life in the Bird Box world.
My parting advice: Don’t be afraid to be emotionally honest when you get into a story. If you’re too embarrassed to cry or scream, that’s fine, but at least let the true feelings come out so that you can get the biggest bang for your buck. Unless, of course, you’re really scared. I mean, Bird Box is pretty realistic when you realize that there must be other species more powerful than us. That sucks, doesn’t it? Yes, it does. Happy viewing.