There are almost too many microlit texts to choose from – but here, I’ve done all the hard work for you.
Between frenzied hand washes, check out these microlit texts and get thinking about how they could make the leap from page to screen. What makes these texts great? More importantly, how do we communicate what makes them great as we take them into a new medium?
Rear Window by Susan McCreery
I predict Rear Window (1954) is going to make a 2020 comeback – the original Alfred Hitchcock film was about a man trapped inside, overcome with boredom and taking up weird new hobbies, like murder investigation. Sound familiar?
Rear Window – the microlit – switches things up a bit. Now it’s the wife murdering the husband, and the story is told from her perspective as she observes a nosy photographer watching her every move.
How to dramatise this story
To dramatise this story, it might be necessary to take a step back. This microlit sits in the moment after a murder, which means it’s missing all the drama. What if the woman wasn’t sitting, drinking a martini? What if she was active – cooking dinner, putting suits away in storage, making phone calls to secure an alibi – before revealing the body on the floor? By not immediately revealing what has happened, intrigue is created as the audience vies to discover what this woman is up to, and what might happen next.
This is a great microlit to adapt for the screen if you are friends with your neighbours or live in student housing. If not, it’s still possible to communicate the same idea with the photographer watching from the street. Either way, the distance between the characters makes filming COVID-19 friendly!
Make sure you check out the many microlit texts up for adaptation in our Microflix Competition.
Ashleigh Mounser has a BA in Creative Writing from the University of Wollongong and a Graduate Certificate in Screenwriting from the Australian Film, Television and Radio School. Since graduating in 2018, she has written and produced five short films. Mounser was Sydney Morning Herald’s Young Writer of the Year in 2012; the overall winner of the Future Leaders Writing Competition; winner of the ‘Time to Write’ contest by the University of Melbourne, and recipient of two arts grants from the Bouddi Foundation of the Arts, presented by John Bell of the Bell Shakespeare Company. Her first feature comedy film, Questions and Comments was nominated for the Humanitas Prize by Thomas Musca, was shot in Miami and is due to be released in May 2020.
Or Ashleigh’s Tips for Adapting Microlit – Part Two
By now we’re well into isolation and adjusting to the new normal – if normal is a parallel universe where I go on three walks a day and spend my nights learning embroidery. What time to be alive.
Many people are finding isolation is a chance to sit back, reflect, and get creative. Here, I’ve curated three Microlit texts worth a read on a lonely iso night – and some ideas to get you thinking about how those small literary moments can make the transition to the screen.
Story #1 – Seen by Emily Ralph
Seen explores the momentary highs and lows of online dating.
It’s a timely topic – most people predict a certain level of satisfaction from their mindless scrolling – something called affective forecasting – but the majority of studies conclude that time spent on apps like Facebook and Tindr lead to a drop in mental health. The big moment of Seen which needs to transfer to film is the missed connection – when the interaction could become substantial and meaningful but doesn’t.
What makes Seen unique is the switching perspectives – the writer switches seamlessly from one character to another. This could be achieved on film by using the phone as a go-between – a portal of sorts into what’s happening at the other end of the conversation.
This filmset is an isolators dream come true. It’s essential to the story that the actors are never in the same room – which is so on trend for 2020.
For an example of a short film with a similar vibe, check out Nope by Brooke Hemphill
Story #2 – Makeup by Angela Blake
Makeup contrasts the soothing effect of a ritual with the confrontational and unpredictable outside world. The protagonist of Makeup is in control of everything – except how other people react to her.
To dramatize Makeup, the protagonist could verbalise what she’s doing – a kind of self-soothing make-up tutorial for one before she is yanked out of her cocoon.
Makeup is a great story to film in isolation – it could even be filmed by a jack-of-all trades. Depending on how many hats you can fit on your head, you could be actor, cinematographer, director and editor, with a brief cameo from an unseen voice at the end. After all, we need to hear the response to her when she steps outside, but we don’t need to see the aggressor. This isn’t their story.
Tuna is almost funny – until you realise what’s going on. As the character moves through various incidences, past trauma is evoked. The story explores the way trauma can manifest, sometimes in ways as innocuous and unexpected as a tuna sandwich.
Tuna has a relatively simple narrative – putting it on film gives us the opportunity to expand and strengthen the story. There’s nothing dramatic about someone staring at a sandwich, thinking intently. Filmmakers must ask – how can we get inside this character’s head? How could the world around her be dramatized to reflect her internal conflict? Is her world loud? Grating? Visually overwhelming? How will the filmmaker transport us from one memory to another?
To make a film version of Tuna safely in the age of COVID-19, some of the settings need to be moved around – you’ll have more luck setting up a makeshift café or waiting room at home, than taking actors in public spaces to try and capture the perfect shot. Don’t underestimate the finishing touches to make your scene believable – lighting and background noises (Café Sounds on Spotify has been a real comfort to me this last month) can make all the difference.
Ashleigh Mounser has a BA in Creative Writing from the University of Wollongong and a Graduate Certificate in Screenwriting from the Australian Film, Television and Radio School. Since graduating in 2018, she has written and produced five short films. Mounser was Sydney Morning Herald’s Young Writer of the Year in 2012; the overall winner of the Future Leaders Writing Competition; winner of the ‘Time to Write’ contest by the University of Melbourne, and recipient of two arts grants from the Bouddi Foundation of the Arts, presented by John Bell of the Bell Shakespeare Company. Her first feature comedy film, Questions and Comments was nominated for the Humanitas Prize by Thomas Musca, was shot in Miami and is due to be released in May 2020.
Or, Ashleigh’s Tips for Adapting Microlit – Part One
The 2020 Microflix Comp is here, and the microlit is in. There are countless texts to choose from, and endless ideas to explore. Here, I’ve broken down three texts which I loved and could visualise on film.
The following texts lend themselves to dramatic adaptation and can be filmed easily and safely at home during the ongoing COVID-19 crisis.
First, some tips and tricks to keep in mind:
Some of the best adaptations capture the theme of a text, rather than transferring a literary play-by-play to the screen.
Film is a new medium, with its own rules, challenges and advantages.
Identify the aspects which will be harder to portray on screen (inner dialogue, a particular literary style) and decide early how these challenges will be overcome.
What will make this text visually exciting? When adapting from fiction to film, look for moments which can be dramatized on screen – moments which capture the theme of the text and can be expanded and enriched.
Story #1: Well, then
Well, then explores the clash of idealistic, old-fashioned, corsets-and-carriages Romanticism with a modern-day, match.com gone wrong reality.
This idea doesn’t need petticoats – it needs soft romantic lighting with a record-scratching return to reality when Mr. Darcy finally opens his mouth and pronounces that he is freezing his balls off.
For a fresh adaptation, play with the setting and characters. It’s the moment of letdown – the great missed opportunity of romance – which needs to transfer to film to capture the heart of Well, then.
Body Image explores themes of disordered eating, with each of the two characters representing extremes – one who eats too much and one who eats too little.
A series of vignettes – short, sharp shots could show the “little digs” building up in Jen’s mind and create a narrative arc which justifies her actions.
The important thing is not to get hung up on the details. Don’t have a treadmill at home? Free weights or any exercise equipment would work just as well. A limp hand and the thud of a weight on the ground will still communicate what’s happened without explicitly saying.
Don’t sell your audience short – they’re smarter than you think.
Body Image is perfect for a COVID-era adaptation because it takes place between two characters within a contained home set. Ideally, housemates or sisters could try their hand at acting – so as not to involve a second household.
Traces has enormous potential for short, sharp and deeply funny film. Sure, it’s about love, loss and moving on, but’s also about burying a toenail clipping in the yard.
This is one of those moments which can be expanded and dramatised. If the protagonist would go so far as to bury the toenail, would she change into black for the occasion and write a heartfelt eulogy? Play on the ridiculousness and melodrama of the moment – and get as much comedy out of it as you can.
Traces only has two characters, and can be filmed at home so it’s about as COVID-19-friendly as a film set can get. Because the protagonists lost love is being recalled in memory only, POV shots would work best – which also eliminates the need to have the actors in the same room at the same time.
Even if you’ve never picked up a camera or performed in front of one, isolation is the time to try new things and experiment. I hope these breakdowns inspire some fresh (and sanitary) adaptations of 2020’s Microlit texts – I look forward to seeing what you come up with!
Entries close August 1st – so get filming!
Ashleigh Mounser has a BA in Creative Writing from the University of Wollongong and a Graduate Certificate in Screenwriting from the Australian Film, Television and Radio School. Since graduating in 2018, she has written and produced five short films. Mounser was Sydney Morning Herald’s Young Writer of the Year in 2012; the overall winner of the Future Leaders Writing Competition; winner of the ‘Time to Write’ contest by the University of Melbourne, and recipient of two arts grants from the Bouddi Foundation of the Arts, presented by John Bell of the Bell Shakespeare Company. Her first feature comedy film, Questions and Comments was nominated for the Humanitas Prize by Thomas Musca, was shot in Miami and is due to be released in May 2020.
The 2020 Microflix Awards and Festival is upon us and this batch of microlit is ripe for adaptation – but what’s the best way to make someone else’s story your own?
In Such a Transformation, Yasmine Gooneratne says; “The best adaptations imitate … capturing the spirit of the text …Imitation invites the reader to hold the old text and the new simultaneously in their mind and rejoice in their differences.”
Part of adaptation is recognising what works in the current format. What makes this story so compelling that you feel the need to tell it in a new and unexpected way? Was it the characters, the prose, or a feeling you got when you read it? It’s important to know what part of the story made it what it was so that you don’t lose it in the process of adaptation.
To make a text work dramatically on film, sometimes you have to lose your favourite parts.
The phrase “kill your darlings,” isn’t a popular one for nothing. Some of the best bits might not translate to the screen. It can feel perilous deciding what to cut and what to keep – but in a three-minute film, every second is precious and must be to the benefit of the characters and themes.
According to Linda Segar, there are three main categories of adaptation;
Reconstruction: in which you try to be as faithful to the original material as possible. To pull this off, you should decide first what the central story is – then focus on preserving and sharpening this narrative. A good example of reconstruction is Pride and Prejudice (2005).
Pride and Prejudice (2005) is an example of trying to remain as faithful to the source material as possible.
Reimagination: in which you remain faithful in parts to the original, but put your own spin on character, setting and plot. To reimagine a text, you should define the essence of the text and decide how to translate those themes onto the screen. An example of reimagination is Ten Things I Hate About You (1999), which is reimagined from Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew.
An example of reimagination is Ten Things I Hate About You (1999)
Deconstruction: in which you take the original as a jumping off point and create something almost entirely new and original. To deconstruct the text, define what is intriguing to you about the source material, and then take it as far as your imagination allows. An example of deconstruction is Marie Antoinette (2006).
An example of deconstruction is Marie Antoinette (2006).
So there you have it – reconstruction, reimagination and deconstruction. Which one is best for you and the story you have chosen?
So, why do some adaptations work, and others don’t? What drew critics and audiences in their millions to Greta Gerwig’s Little Women? On the other hand, what was it about The Girl on the Train which alienated fans of the novel? You can’t make everyone happy – but when adaptations make changes which sacrifice what made the original text truly memorable, the result is often only an echo of the extraordinary source material. Big changes aren’t always a bad thing – but they should enhance the narrative, rather than distract from it. When Greta Gerwig changed the timeline of Little Women, shifting and rearranging events, she never lost the heart and soul of what made Louisa May Alcott’s novel so beloved. Moving between past and present created a moving, fluid narrative about the changing relationships of the March sisters.
Regardless of what form of adaptation you choose, the most important thing is to decide early and often what makes the source material remarkable – and then hold on to it at any cost.
Ashleigh Mounser has a BA in Creative Writing from the University of Wollongong and a Graduate Certificate in Screenwriting from the Australian Film, Television and Radio School. Since graduating in 2018, she has written and produced five short films. Mounser was Sydney Morning Herald’s Young Writer of the Year in 2012; the overall winner of the Future Leaders Writing Competition; winner of the ‘Time to Write’ contest by the University of Melbourne, and recipient of two arts grants from the Bouddi Foundation of the Arts, presented by John Bell of the Bell Shakespeare Company. Her first feature comedy film, Questions and Comments was nominated for the Humanitas Prize by Thomas Musca, was shot in Miami and is due to be released in May 2020.
Hello to my filmmaking and screenwriting
friends! With the Microflix submissions for writing in, who’s keen to dive into
some new adaptations?!
For today’s blog instalment
we’re going to be looking at a few of the Microlit submissions for this year’s upcoming
Microflix festival with the theme of IMAGE
and I’ll be running through a few possible ways they could be adapted. The
three incredible texts we’ll be looking at are Fragment from a Western by Mark O’Flynn, Mona Lisa by Susan McCreery and Valencia
by Banjo Weatherald. To get the most out of each text I’ll be identifying the
key theme and the best visual moment, as well as where there’s potential to run
into problems with budgeting and ways to overcome those. An important issue to
think about this year is the current climate surrounding COVID-19 and how
social distancing measures may affect filmmaking when working in teams. Most of
the tips I’ve given below are tailored towards non-pandemic situations, but
since I know you’ll want to get cracking right away I’ve also included some
COVID-19 safe alternatives so you can keep creating while staying safe.
Fragment from a Western by Mark O’Flynn
Fragment from a Western explores the inner thoughts of both a
failing horse and its rider after an exhausting police chase out in the dry and
unforgiving Wild West. It’s the end of the line, and while one reflects on what
life could have been the other curses his bad luck and his partner, forgetting
all the times the horse came through for him. O’Flynn really captures different
reactions to the realisation of time being up.
Narrative theme: When the race finishes.
Best moment: The description of the horses ‘better life’.
Main budget problems: Horses, sheriff car and location.
Overcoming budget problems: Instead of picturing this played
out in real life, think a bit smaller. Literally. You could use miniature
plastic toy horses, cars and play house toys to set your scene, potentially
using stop-motion animation techniques to ‘act out’ the story. Collect sand
from a beach to use as the dust, or just use dirt, and a small grassy hill
could become your horse’s lush paddock with ‘a gentle incline up which to
gallop’. You still want it to feel authentic even with plastic figurines. This interpretation
would require no actors! Only voiceovers if you decide to include dialogue and
sound effects such as galloping, church bells, wasps buzzing and a horse’s sigh.
COVID-19 alternatives: In this scenario, as long as your
team is separated (one person films the figurines on their own, files are sent
to an editor who puts it together on their own, etc.), you’re good to go! If
you do choose to use voice actors, however, try to use someone in your own home
or send your actors a script via email and ask them to record their lines on
their own. If you must get together because of equipment needs, remember to
keep you distance (1.5 metres) and thoroughly sanitise all surfaces post
interaction.
Mona Lisa by Susan McCreery
Mona Lisa captures two art lovers in a quarrel
about one of the most talked about paintings in the world. It really highlights
the subjectivity of art and that there is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ opinion to
have, even with highly praised and widely acclaimed artworks.
Narrative theme: Tradition vs. change.
Best moment: The humour in the dialogue.
Main budget problem: Location.
Overcoming budget problems:
Option 1 – You could recreate the space using a
room, a wall, and a handful of people. Set the room in your re-imagining of the
Louvre; think bright ‘art gallery’ lighting, high ceilings and large rooms with
various sizes of paintings evenly spaced along walls. Cut between extreme close
ups of the ‘crowd’, a tight shot of two actors with extras behind them taking
photos, and shots of the Mona Lisa. Use printed versions of the artworks (you
could use a home printer for these, the works that are in the background of
shots won’t need to look like professional quality), but make sure you get the
sizing of the Mona Lisa right.
Option 2 – If we’re thinking outside the box,
this scene doesn’t need to be gallery based at all. Change the location to
either a library setting with the characters in the aisles looking at art
books, or the characters seated at a desk on their laptops and Graham is
showing a photo of the Mona Lisa. In these two scenarios, focus more on
the actors and their dialogue; really play with their relationship and
reactions to each other’s opinions.
COVID-19 safe alternative: In both of
these options, you will need at least 2 actors. In order to overcome social
distancing hurdles, do not film the actors together, but instead film actor A
from actor B’s perspective and vice versa during conversations. Make sure that
the camera operator is keeping his/her distance too! Recreate the scene of a
gallery or library in your own home, and instead of having extras to make a
crowd, add in a background sound that mimics the hubbub of a crowd during the
editing process.
Valencia by Banjo Weatherald
In Valencia
we see a more lucid and fluid form of storytelling, with images drifting in an
out attached to conflicting emotions. The narrator attaches a faded love to an
orange tree, and in the blooming of the fruit he sees moments from their past,
both sweet and haunted. Weatherald’s text is an exciting opportunity to play
with depiction and movement between scenes, with the driving form of the story
being how feelings reside in objects long after the person has left us.
Narrative theme: Going through the seasons
and the same changing nature of relationships. Best moment: The description of
oranges in each season.
Main budget problem: Orange tree.
Overcoming budget problems: Instead of
finding a whole tree, use oranges that have already been picked. Take single
shots of an orange differing in its ripeness, and contrast each stage of
ripeness in the orange to the stage of the characters’ relationship. This
contrast could be done through ‘flashback’ moments with actors or even as the
story progresses; an orange in the early stages of ripeness in the grass by a
picnic rug as two actors blissfully in love eat watermelon, then later yellow
and almost ready to be picked cut open on a plate and discarded by a man in a
purple scarf sitting alone with a cup of tea, and again a fruit bowl piled high
with perfectly orange fruit maybe with the man making a dish from a few of
them. He has to find a way to eat them all himself after all.
COVID-19 safe alternative:
Here, you can get away with using mainly one actor, and if you choose to
include a second for flashback scenes film them from the perspective of the
main character. REMEMBER! Keep your distances and sanitise regularly. Another
completely different way to approach this would be to use animation in place of
actors. This way, multiple team members could work cohesively by sending files
back and forth via email, googledoc or any other preferred file sharing method.
Today I picked an orange from my backyard tree. The orange was sour. Picked too soon I suppose. Last time you were here the oranges were little green balls like those that hang on Christmas Trees or from the ears of your friend who wore that black dinner dress.
Place your feet into fish flops, the current craze, and your toes peep from plastic mouths. Tails curl behind your heels and an eye bulges over the base of each small toe. They are real to the extreme, almost obscene, either green or gold, but the scaly surface lacks slime.
Red, scaly, hard as pebbles, knuckles like bolts. Cora’s hands bore the legacy of her working life: bleach, hot water, furniture wax, polishing rags. Her thick fingers, capped with stubby cracked nails, gripped the brush in the glare of the art class lights.
‘I carry little equipment. Taking three giant steps forward is quicker and less intrusive than screwing on a telephoto lens,’ Diane Arbus told fellow wildlife photographers. She showed little interest in rows of Australian night parrots preserved in drawers at the Australian Museum, ‘like on a contact sheet.’
I get my first view of the sun just as it’s about to go down. Fitzroy Street in the daytime isn’t the right place for the likes of us. Night time makes more sense around here. Baz and me and the boys. Baz’ll have his platforms on.