GRAHAM
Well, see, right now I have this
one key, and I really like that.
Everything I own is in my car.  
If I get an apartment, that's two
keys. If I get a job, maybe I 
have to open and close once in 
awhile, that's more keys. Or I
buy some stuff and I'm worried
about getting ripped off, so I
get some locks, and that's just
more keys. I just really like
having the one key. It's clean,
you know?

   - From Steven Soderbergh's 
     "sex, lies, and videotape"

What makes dialogue great?

To answer, we must take a look at what dialogue is, and what it is used to accomplish.

Firstly, it is of great help to clarify what dialogue is not for.

There is an oft-repeated paradigm among screenwriters: "Novels are about what people think; plays are about what people say; screenplays are about what people do."

Narration (inner monologue) is appropriate in the novel form, when a character's inner life can successfully be the vehicle for the entire story. But too much narration kills a film. Other devices utilized to show a character's inner life, such as dream sequences, flashbacks, or expressionist-influenced camera or lighting can be effective when sparingly used, but quickly distract from filmic narrative when overdone.

Long conversations, monologues, and verbose wordplay certainly have their place on the stage. But in cinema, dialogue can actually be one of the least effective ways to bring your characters' worlds to life. To put it another way, to explain everything in a film by having people talk it out grossly underuses the power of film to tell a story through moving images. Character is best delineated by action. An audience wants to vicariously live out the film's story through characters who are proactive movers and shakers.

Michael B. Druxman, in his book "How to Write a Story...Any Story: The Art of Storytelling," notes:

Some wise man (or woman) once said that there were three reasons...and only three...to justify putting a line of dialogue into a script, and if a particular line doesn't fulfill one or more of those reasons, then you should eliminate it.

What are the reasons?

• To further the plot.
• To develop or reveal character.
• To get a laugh.

I think that may be the most important lesson one can learn about dialogue.

All this said, appropriately used dialogue has the power to move audiences to tears, to stir deep emotion inside them, or to make their spirits soar. How is this balancing act between talking just enough, but not too much, accomplished?

Dialogue Reveals Character

In the direct sense, dialogue reveals what's going on inside a character's head. But the worst kind of dialogue occurs when this internal information is presented verbatim. Imagine if characters always stated their thoughts openly:

	   BOB
I dislike you immensely.

	   SARAH
I dislike you as well. I think
that from now on, I shall react
to you only with sarcasm and
disdain.

	   BOB
Even though circumstances 
have forced us together, I 
shall be consistently 
uncooperative in order to get
you to give up and leave.

	   SARAH
I can be just as stubborn as 
you. More, in fact, because 
my will is stronger than yours.

Not very exciting, is it?

How often do you know people to say exactly what they mean? Except in moments of great intimacy, people rarely say exactly what's on their mind. They have agendas which they cannot or will not reveal to others because of relationship or circumstance. Good drama is also about people thrown together in situations of conflict, during which they may not trust, like, or feel comfortable with those around them. Conversation might be guarded, stilted, elliptical, curt, disingenuous, tense, suggestive, bantering, sniping, or petty. But it shouldn't be direct.

Writers often speak of text, or the the actual words of the dialogue, and subtext, or the meaning that lies beneath the words. It is these two levels working in tandem that create great dialogue.

Subtext is where actual meaning, a person's unspoken intent, resides. Actors play subtext, and bring the inner life of the character to their expression and body. When this physical expression is played against the text, it is the difference between what is said and what is meant that creates depth, conflict, and tension. The manner in which the text and subtext interplay is one of the main methods to reveal character.

In the dialogue from "sex, lies, and videotape" at the beginning of this article, Graham seems to be talking about keys. But beneath his words, there is much more. In his past, Graham was a pathological liar. His constant interweaving of fabrications created tangled levels of complexity that ultimately led (we assume) to a major psychological crisis. In the film, Graham is trying to start over, and create some kind of a new life, yet at heart, he is avoiding his dark past. His speech about keys hides the deeper truth that he wishes only to simplify his life.

In "Casablanca," when Ilsa reminds Rick that the last time they saw each other was the day the Germans marched into Paris, Rick responds: "I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue." His text is darkly funny, and tinged with bitter sarcasm. Why? Because his subtext reads: "I loved you, and you left me without explanation. Even years later, I'm still hurt."

Sometimes you can get away with what seems initially to be dialogue that is purely textual - the characters seem to be saying exactly what they mean - but underneath is still another layer of meaning that has yet to come out.

A good example of this is found in a revealing page from "As Good As It Gets":

		   MELVIN
	  (this is hell for him)
      I have this - what - ailment... 
      And my doctor -- a shrink... who I
      used to see all the time... he says
      50 to 60 percent of the time a pill
      can really help. I hate pills. 
      "Hate."  I am using the word "hate" 
      about pills. My compliment is that 
      when you came to my house that time 
      and told me how you'd never - well,
      you were there, you know... the next 
      morning I started taking these pills.		 

	           CAROL
	  (a little confused)
      I don't quite get how that's a 
      compliment for me.

Amazing that something in Melvin rises to the 
occasion - so that he uncharacteristically looks
at her directly - then:

		   MELVIN
      You make me want to be a better man.

Carol never expected this kind of praise which
would so slip under her guard. She stumbles a bit
- flattered, momentarily moved and his for the
taking.

		   CAROL
      That's maybe the best compliment of my
      life.

		   MELVIN
      Then I've really overshot here cause I 
      was aiming at just enough to keep you 
      from walking out.

Melvin's dialogue begins by circuitously avoiding the issue at hand. When he finally comes out and says what he needs to say, there are still further layers beneath his words. In truth, Melvin is falling in love with Carol, yet can't admit it to himself, much less Carol. And the elaborate rituals of courtship make him exceedingly uncomfortable. Although the compliment itself reflects well on Carol, it actually refers to Melvin and not to her - a very clever way of avoiding complimenting Carol directly, which would be too forward. In his final line, Melvin undercuts what he has just said, and tries to joke his way out of having complimented her so heavily in the first place.

It is notable that the style of screenwriters Mark Andrus and James L. Brooks is to include subtext in the script's descriptive passages. They note of Melvin that "this is hell for him," and go into great detail about how moved Carol is by his compliment.

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