What You Can Learn About Writing from Cheesy Movies

What You Can Learn About Writing from Cheesy Movies

     Sometimes to figure out how to write correctly, you must see what it’s like to write incorrectly. When it comes to learning what not to do, there is no better example than your run-of-the-mill cheesy movie.

     When you hear the word ‘cheesy’ in reference to a film, there are certain concepts that jump instantly to mind: weak acting, shoddy filming, bland storylines, and clichéd dialogue. These features are often apparent from the first couple of scenes.

     While it can be difficult to put a finger on exactly why good movies are good, the factors that make a movie bad stand out like sore thumbs. There is a lot that can be learned by making a point to avoid these features in your own writing. Here are some writing tips that you can learn from cheesy movies:

Dialogue

     Have you ever been watching a movie and heard a line of dialogue that made you physically wince?

     There are certain lines that make their way into movies that should have been cut in the first round of editing. They’re generally clunky, out of place, or, most commonly, heavily clichéd. Consider the following dialogue between two friends:

     “Man, can you believe we’re going to this Foaming Catfish concert?”

     “No way man, it’s totally sick. I love the Foaming Catfish.”

     In just two sentences, I was able to create a conversation that would never take place between two friends in real life. Yet this is just the sort of dialogue that makes its way into cheesy movies. So, what’s so bad about this dialogue? Let’s break it down:

“Man, can you believe we’re going to this Foaming Catfish concert?”

     People rarely sum up something they are actively doing quite so succinctly. A line like this is a clumsy information dump, a glaring example of exposition thrown into a script solely to provide information to the audience. A slightly improved version of this line would look something like this:

“So, wait, you’re telling me you’ve never seen Foaming Catfish live? Man, you’re in for a blast.”

     Though not perfect, in this revision the character implies what is happening rather than coming out and saying it. Nine times out of ten, the subtler approach is better than out-and-out telling. 

     Now let’s look at the next line:

     “No way man, it’s totally sick. I love the Foaming Catfish.”

     This line looks like the result of a faulty Google Translate conversion, but it’s sadly typical of cheesy movie dialogue. Compare it with this revision:

     “Dude I’m pumped. I love the Fish.”

     Again, not perfect, but better. Notice how in the revision the second Foaming Catfish enthusiast refers to the band differently than the first. This is typical of real-life conversations, as people rarely refer directly to something just mentioned by someone else. More often, they refer indirectly to the same subject.

     “Have I ever heard someone actually say this?”

     This is a good question to ask yourself when writing dialogue. There are many lines spoken in films or written in books that would never be spoken by a real person. Conversely, a truly realistic conversation might not jump as readily to an author’s mind. Consider the following example:

John: “Sorry I was late. The car was on empty.”

Sue: “Look. I said I was sorry for not filling it last night.”

John: “I’m just glad I had cash on me.”

Sue: “Look, fine! Here’s 20 bucks. Happy?”

     On paper, this conversation doesn’t appear to make sense. John begins by making an apology which Sue perceives as an affront. If you imagine this conversation taking place between two friends of yours, however, it starts to become a little more dynamic. John’s comment, when seen in conjunction with Sue’s response, suddenly looks less like an apology and more like a subtle jab. This point is reinforced by John’s second comment “I’m just glad I had cash on me.” John is not really apologizing but is, in fact, leading Sue on a guilt trip.

     Though this section of dialogue is far from stellar, it at least contains a level of subtext that is glaringly absent from cheesy movies. In a poorly written film, both characters would immediately express their feelings openly, which rarely happens in real life.

Character

     Character development is one of the most forsaken areas of cheesy movies. Although one-dimensional side characters are bad enough, even main characters are presented as shallow and one-sided. Always remember: characters are the heart of the story. If you don’t have well fleshed out characters, you have no story.

     Consider your average, crudely put together action movie. Often, a heavily stereotyped protagonist will blast and shoot his way through a maze of cardboard cutout villains and MacGuffins to save the day and walk off into the sunset. Nowhere along the line are we presented with any sort of internal conflict, character flaw, or motivation other than “stopping the bad guy”.

Films like these are hollow from beginning to end, lacking any form of meaning or value other than a spurt of cheap entertainment. Without going into too much detail, here are a few key traits that are necessary for a complex character:

• A relatable motivation (redemption, love, self-acceptance)

• An internal as well as external conflict

• A character flaw (greed, self-doubt, fear)

• Discernible traits (habits, physical ticks, distinctive speech pattern)

      When it comes to side characters, just remember that no one is always the same way all the time. Let your hero should show signs of doubt, your comic relief have moments of seriousness, and your villain express glimpses of humanity. These complexities are entirely absent from cheesy movies, which instead let archetypes and stereotypical characters run the show.

Plot

     Finally, nothing screams “low budget movie” quite like a weak plot. How many times when watching a “made for TV movie” have you been struck with the sensation that you have seen this exact story before?

     In the world of cheesy movies, plots are cookie cutters; the same story premise can be pulled out of the drawer and used over and over again.

     While it can feel impossible to come up with a plot that has never been thought of before, just remember that there is always room for a unique spin on a story premise. Use the existence of tropes and preconceived ideas to surprise the audience with a new take on your story.

     One of the telltale signs of a cheesy movie plot is glaring predictability. If an audience member can watch the first ten minutes of a film and predict the rest of the movie, there is a serious writing flaw.

     Of all the sins of bad movies, there is one that stands out above the rest: failure to satisfy. This dissatisfaction is tied directly to the plot. A dissatisfied audience is the result of something fundamentally wrong with the delivery of the story. The writer did not deliver what was promised. Possible causes for dissatisfaction are:

• The internal/external conflict of the protagonist was not resolved in a complete or realistic way

• The main characters did not exhibit any significant signs of growth or change

• Central problems/dilemmas which arose during the story were not properly dealt with

• Holes in logic prevented the ending of the story from carrying any believability

     Cheesy movies do not take the time to ask the fundamental question: have the issues which prompted the story been resolved? Without this self-evaluation, cheesy movies will always leave audiences dissatisfied at the film’s conclusion.

     As long as there are good movies, there will always be bad movies. The truth is, without the cheesy films which litter the market, we would not appreciate the true classics as much as we do. The next time you have the misfortune to take in a cheesy movie, make a mental note to avoid its fallacies in your own writing. Learn from others’ mistakes and resolve yourself to do better.

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One thought on “What You Can Learn About Writing from Cheesy Movies

  1. Oscar the Romantic Panda

    Pierre took a second look in the oven. There was no mistaking it–something was wrong with the catfish.

    “Whatdowedowhatdowedowhatdowedo?” asked Claude, calmly shaking Pierre by the neck.

    Pierre turned on his heel and looked back into the eating area. Chef Etien was still chatting casually with the food critic. “Oh, yes, Foie Gras with Chardonnay has always made me feel somewhat depressed, too…” he was just saying.

    “Cell phone,” said Pierre, patting his empty pockets.

    “Here,” said Claude, yanking his own out and thrusting it in Pierre’s hands.

    “Don’t you know his number?” asked Pierre, raising an eyebrow as he fiddled with the device. He shoved it back toward Claude.

    “Sorry,” said Claude, unlocking it and giving it back.

    “I said…” Pierre didn’t bother finishing.

    Claude trembled over to the oven and looked inside while Pierre finished dialing. “Hurry,” he said.

    Pierre punched the call button and waited. Claude leaned against the door frame. “Comeonecomeoncomeoncomeon,” he muttered.

    There was a buzz on the counter a few feet away. It was Chef Etian’s phone.

    “No. Nononononono-” said Claude, squenching his eyes shut.

    Pierre looked back through the window into the eating area again. Chef Etien showed no sign of leaving the table.

    “We got to tell him,” said Claude, reaching for the door.

    “No!” hissed Pierre, pulling him back. “I’ll do it. Watch.”

    With this, he took a cloth and suavely tossed it over his arm and stepped through the door.

    “But I insist,” said the critic, “if it hadn’t been for horseradish, there simply would be no such thing as mayonaise. It is the pungency of horseradish that necessitated the ballance; without such pungency, mayonaise would never have developed.”

    Chef Etien sat back in his chair and furrowed his brows.

    “But what about ketchup?” he said. “With something like-”

    “No, you’re missing my point entirely,” interrupted the critic. “It’s just that horseradish-”

    “No, I agree,” said Chef Etien.

    “You agree.”

    “Yes, I agree.”

    “Go ahead then.”

    There was a pause while Chef Etien searched for words.

    Pierre walked by. Chef Etien absently watched him as he nearly bumped into a waiter.

    “Man, can you believe we’re going to this Foaming Catfish concert?” said Pierre.

    The waiter frowned at him and moved along.

    “No way man, it’s totally sick. I love the Foaming Catfish,” called Claude, walking out of the kitchen.

    The critic looked over at him. “Huh,” he said.

    “Foaming. Catfish. Just love it,” Claude continued. “Can you think of a better name for a band than Foaming Catfish? I wonder what Foaming Catfish mea–ump!”

    Pierre had clapped a hand over his mouth and the two disappeared into the kitchen.

    “Foaming Catfish,” remarked the critic. “Never heard of that one before.”

    “Say,” said Chef Etien, suddenly looking at the clock. “I need to get back to the kitchen.”

    “I eagerly await your finest meal,” returned the critic with a smile.

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