An important storytelling lesson learned by comparing Skyline to Thor

In Medias Res - perhaps the most overused dramatic device in modern fiction, it's impossible to throw a stone these days without hitting a movie that begins in the middle of the action. It's a daring move, or it would be, if most stories weren't using the weaker version of the device, in which, instead of starting in the middle of the story and trusting in the audience's ability to follow along, just teases the main action, then flashes back to explain how the characters arrived in the situation that starts the film.

While not completely inappropriate, this use of In Medias Res requires one thing - that the situation be unusual enough to require an explanation. If it doesn't, then all the film has done is wasted the audience's time. For examples of each type of flashback IMR, let's consider the films Thor and Skyline.

As Thor opens, a mysterious man has fallen through a wormhole and crashed into the ground. Who is he? How did he get here? This is pretty far from an everyday occurrence, so the next half hour of the film is spent detailing the amazing series of events that resulted in this absurd situation.

The film Skyline opens with the beginning of an alien attack - light beams down from the sky, and anyone foolish enough to look into it is drawn up to the spaceships far above. A few people staying in an apartment notice the lights, and one of them is captured. The the film then flashes back, not to explain the spaceships, but rather to let the audience know how a group of people wound up sleeping in an apartment. Since sleeping in an apartment at night is basically the least surprising thing that can happen, all the time spent establishing the series of events that led the characters to that point are a complete waste.

Also, apropos of nothing, you can't introduce a new kind of monster in the last minute of the movie, and expect us to just accept that's what the brains were for, Skyline.

Tips for low-budget filmmakers: Edison Death Machine Edition

When making a low-budget movie locations are at a premium. People call in favors, beg for access, and find the cheapest possible places to film. This is how one winds up rewriting a script so that Captain Kidd's grave is located in the parking lot of a motor lodge.

Of course, sometimes a script can't be rewritten - sometimes you need absolutely need a location because the entire premise of the film depends on it. Such is the nature of the museum in Edison Death Machine. Simply put, there's no movie without a museum. Unfortunately, despite the assurances of the following placard-

This is clearly not a museum. They tend not to have low foam ceilings, glaring fluorescent light, or institutionally-tiled floors.

The chairs aren't especially believable, either. So, let's say you find yourself in a situation where you have access to a retirement home or medical clinic, but need it to double for something else, like a museum or school. Here's a fun trick...

TARPS!

Remove the ugly chairs, put the odd art aside, and throw some tarps over the questionable flooring and toss up a few stepladders. Then just put up some signs announcing that the location is being repainted in anticipation of the big event that's important to the script - suddenly you've doubled the believability of your location!

Can't really suggest much to help with the low ceilings and ugly flourescent lighting... maybe use the stepladders and shoot from high angles? That could hide it nicely!

Anyhoo, until next time, this has been Count Vardulon's Tips for Low-Budget Filmmakers! TM and R, 2012.