The opening image is a static shot of a mural that features adolescent males dressed in similar sport jackets of muted colors.  Three boys are featured prominently.  (Behind them are a group of slightly older and taller boys whose faces are obscured or incomplete.)  The three boys look in different directions - one up, one down in a gaze of defeat, and one straight ahead - hinting at the different paths that some of the main characters will take:

 

Knox: He transcends the system, seizes the day to the point where he is kicked out.
Neil: He's crushed by the system, the absence of seizing the day.
Todd: He finds the balance, finding his voice as a writer, finds a bit of daring in himself
 
Two of the three featured boys on the mural have a fair amount of red - a color often associated with passion - in their outfits (one tie and one blazer), while the older kids have a miniscule amount - as though most if not all of their passion has been snuffed out.   Now, the "rule of threes" states that it takes three things to make a pattern.  So although I would tend to see the two layers of boys in the mural as a sort of family tree and the idea of lineage, the concept becomes explicit when the camera pulls out to a third layer of a live, much younger boy who wears a bright red hat.  He stands before his mother, whose face is mostly OS as she fixes his hair and tells him to keep his shoulders back - telling him how to behave.
 
In the next shot a case is opened and a bagpipe assembled, which is intercut with a photographer, taking pictures of his sons (dressed by adults), who says, "Put your arm around your brother" - furthering the idea that adults want to pose kids, control them, mold them. 
 
As the boys, dressed in their formal blue jackets, grab banners and line up behind the bagpiper, we see a wide shot of the mural, in which the painted image of the kids face a female character who seems to represent liberty or freedom.  The boys walk into the main hall, carrying banners that proclaim the school's ethos: tradition, honor, discipline, excellence.  The camera frames things in flat and often overly symmetrical compositions, with muted, bland colors.
 
At the start of the ceremony an old man takes a candle (the "light of knowledge") and lights a candle held by a young boy, who in turn lights the candle held by the boy next to him, and so on down the row.  To these old men, knowledge is rational and tangible to the senses (not from intuition) and, like the image suggests, is passed down to the youths at the school.
 
Elder Headmaster Nolan, dressed in ceremonial garb, gives the introductions and immediately recalls the school's rich history, comparing this class to the first.  Once again, the burden of responsibility to others' expectations, as well as the burden of the school's lineage, is firmly placed on the boys' shoulders.  We also get brief glimpses of the main characters: Meeks, Knox, Charlie, Neil, and Neil's father.
 
Nolan then asks the students to stand and repeat the four virtues proclaimed on the banners.  Todd doesn't comply, until his father urges him.  (I'll discuss this three-second intro to Todd later.)
 
Fast-forward to end of  the ceremony, as the headmaster meets the families on the way out:
 
Todd and his parents approach Nolan.
TODD'S MOM: This is our youngest one, Todd.
NOLAN: You've got big some big shoes to fill.
 
Not a second is wasted in getting to the essence of this character and situation.  The dialogue deftly handles the exposition that he has an older brother, and Nolan's response immediately puts the pressure on in a seemingly friendly way.  And, just in case you didn't put together the notion of lineage and carrying on the tradition:
 
Neil and his father, Mr. Perry, played by my friend, Kurtwood Smith, approach.
NOLAN (to Neil): We expect great things from you this year.
MR. PERRY: He won't disappoint.
NEIL: I'll do my best, sir.
 
Todd and Neil serve as foils for each other.  They share a similar problem: the burden of expectation.  At first it seems that Neil, an overachiever with a keen nurturing side, deals better with this pressure.  But, in the end, he lets the pressure destroy him, while Todd stands on a table and begins to find his voice.  (Charlie and Knox are like doppelgangers, too.  To this day, after 10 or so viewings, I can barely tell them apart.)
 
Although Neil and Todd don't show their discomfort with this pressure,  note that the next shots (transitions) show younger boys crying as their parents depart.  The parents say things like "chin up" - once again, squelching any bit of raw emotion from them.  The young kids' crying also represent the unexpressed sadness of the older boys.
 
Fast-forward to a dorm room where all of the boys meet Todd:
 
Todd stands out as the only one not dressed in a uniform.  Despite the story's ensemble nature, Todd has the strongest and most positive transformation, and he should be considered the protagonist (though one might argue that he and Neil are co-protagonists).  The others accept him into their clique pretty quickly, but the light chiding revolves around the stellar achievements of his brother.  Neil is completely in charge - sort of the ringleader and peacemaker - but he becomes nervous (stammers, voice cracks) when his father, Mr. Perry, enters and informs him that he will have to give up his assistant editor position on a school publication.  Neil protests for a moment before his dad takes him outside:
 
MR. PERRY: Don't you ever dispute me in public you understand?
NEIL: Father, I wasn't disputing --
MR. PERRY: -- After you've finished medical school and you're on your own, you can do what you damn well please but until then, you do as I tell you.  Is that clear?
NEIL: Yes, sir. I'm sorry.
MR. PERRY (softens): You know how much this means to your mother, don't you?
NEIL: Yes, sir.
 
And then, here is an example of craft that makes the script worthy of the Oscar it won.  In response to his dad:
 
NEIL: You know me, always taking on too much.
 
This is a powerful line because it resonates with Neil's essence.  He is a sensitive character who takes on so much emotionally that it overwhelms him.  As a writer, you probably can't  be this multilayered and specific until later drafts.  Not until you really know your character can you sum him up so specifically in the beginning.
 
But remember: Lines of dialogue that are "loaded" - that is, meaningful, ominous, foreshadowing, double-entendre - must also work on very basic levels.   Is the line in service to the story and conflict?  Yes.  He is trying to ease the tension and deflect his dad's anger.  Is the line forced - does it sound more like the writer than the character?   No.  Is it a legitimate answer/excuse to why he takes on too many extracurricular activities?  Yes.
 
After  Mr. Perry leaves, the other boys come out and chide Neil for taking crap from his dad, but he reminds them that they all are too scared to stand up to their parents and their respective pressures.  This is the clear ending of the first sequence.
 
Reminder: You can watch it or the entire movie here.
 
Immediately after the first sequence, there is a transitional montage.  A clock chimes, and wide shots of the beautiful New England autumn trees represent time passing.  At a minimum, it gives us a visual break from the interiors and a bit of a respite before jumping ahead.  But the director gives us more than that.  He includes several shots of flocking birds.  This is a movie about whether individuals can break free from the expectations and conformity that different groups - friends, family, society, schools - put on them.  Flocking, of course, is an example of an animal's instinct to act in concert with a large group.  And in case you think the bird shots aren't deliberate, note that the loud bird sounds blend seamlessly into the noise of a hundred boys as, in the next shot, they swirl down a staircase while a teacher walks in the opposite direction of the crowd,  cautioning them to slow down.
 

 

Well, why not open with openings?
 
I can't emphasize enough how important introductory moments are.  Not only do you need to pick a powerful opening image, sometimes you need to know what happens before the opening image.  I told my class that they need to know how they are going to modify the Warner Bros. logo before their film.  I was sort of kidding but then this week I watched Orphan use the Warner Bros. logo to foreshadow one of its biggest twists.
 
In the opening image of the new Harry Potter Film, Dumbledore grabs Harry's arm to comfort him and then as the camera slowly moves around to behind them, we also see that he is not only comforting him but pushing him forward, foreshadowing the entire film ("Once again, I must ask too much of you, Harry"): Unfortunately, Harry must be pushed toward his coming-of-age in order for him to fulfill his destiny. 
 
Look at the efficiency of the character intros in Dead Poets Society.  Todd and Neil are set up in similar ways-as foil characters-in their 2-3 line interactions with their parent and the headmaster.  But even before that, in the brief glimpse of each in the ceremony, we learn about them.  In the longshot of the boys standing and repeating the four pillars, on a big screen TV or larger format, you can see that Neil clearly has more merit patches/badges on his uniform than anyone else.
 
And in the three-second introductory shot of Todd where his dad urges him to stand, there is so much information.  He is flanked on the left, right and from behind by navy blue blazers (school uniforms) which contrast with his sports jacket.  He is immediately set up as the outsider, new to the school.  And notice the magic in the moment when he is reluctant to stand up.  It shows several things at once or at least raises the questions of what we should be looking for.  He is shy and needs prodding, but also, we see his instinct to not do what everyone else is doing. We see the seeds of his early flawed self and his future evolved self (what Hauge calls identity and essence). 
 
I know I read a lot into the opening images of DPS.  On a first viewing, an audience might not "get" all of that or all of the meaning and significance of your opening image.  Likewise, you may not even be able to select the perfect opening image or character intro until your very last draft.  But as a storyteller, it's your job to put it there.  And to make sure it sums up or hints at what's to come.
 
I know lens selections and whether a camera zooms or dollies are not usually the concern of a screenwriter. But in DPS, almost all of the details in that opening shot are within the realm of screenwriting: the similar jackets, the muted colors,  the sparseness of red, the  anonymous/faceless older boys in the background as well as the  mother whose face was mostly offscreen.  And the "PULL BACK TO REVEAL" the third layer, the live kid may even have inspired a small 3-4 word cheat about how the young kid is part of the cycle or that the picture represents a legacy or his future.
 
As a screenwriter, you need to pay attention to more than words and actions.  Props, costumes, location, description of setting, wardrobe, contrasts or similarities of character or their dress, and even lighting can be part of your screenwriting toolkit.  During your last draft of a scene, think a bit like a director and look for ways that you can layer in details, control the way the information is revealed, or create suspense by "directing" a bit on the page.   Don't overdo it, but strive to create a dynamic script.  This process will also help you discover details, nuances and character traits that were either missing or weren't being communicated effectively. 
 
The skill of cinematic writing is an important one to develop.  Sadly, it has often enabled a bad screen story to get better coverage, simply because the writing made the experience of the read so enjoyable.  But you can use the skill for good.  One way or another, if you want to make it to the A-list, cinematic writing, the ability to paint a visual picture in the reader's head, is a skill you need.
 
Look at the use of props, wardrobe, settings, etc, in Schulman's opening image in the script as well as some other excerpts from the first few minutes:
 
On the left is a life-sized mural depicting a group of young school boys looking up adoringly at a woman who represents liberty. On the right is a mural showing young men gathered around an industrialist in a corporate boardroom. Between
the murals stands a boy.

 

Note: although the director Peter Weir discovered a different opening image, notice that the writer describes an opening image that visually sums up the central choice for each of the characters.

 
FOUR 16-YEAR-OLD Boys CARRY BANNERS.
Each boy is dressed in an archaic, turn-of-the-century outfit.
- - - - -
Todd is 16, good looking, but he seems beaten down, lacking confidence, unhappy. He wears a name tag and no Welton blazer. When the others stand, Todd's mother nudges him. Todd stands.
- - - - -  
Whereas some boys have two or three achievement pins an the lapels of their coats, Neil has a huge cluster of them on the pocket of his jacket.
- - - - -  
Todd continues to unpack. He unpacks a photo of his mother and father with their arms around an older boy who is obviously Todd's brother Jeffrey. Todd stands to one side, slightly apart from the family group.
 
Sometimes studying a completed film to see what the actors, director and all of the departments bring to the characters can help you see character orchestration more clearly.  You can explore your theme more thoroughly by infusing the character with contrasting points-of-view.  By using foil characters and doubles like Neil/Todd and Charlie/Knox and Keating/Nolan, you externalize and dramatize conflicts and don't have to rely on excessive dialogue or preachy speeches.  Notice the lack of redundancy in how each of these individual characters has a slightly different take on "Carpe Diem."
 
Charlie (Nawanda) - gets expelled from school, sucks the marrow out of life but "chokes on the bone", transcends the system (arguably, in a slightly negative way)
Knox - Charlie's foil, finds a balanced approach to using passion to pursue the girl he likes
Meeks - clings on too strong to the passion that he has to save himself and blame Keating.  He finds a Joseph McCarthy kind of courage (or lack thereof)
Neil - when he is denied the chance to seize the day, the burden of living to others' demands makes him choose to do the exact opposite of seize the day: kill himself
Todd - Neil's foil, starts off as shy but by the end, finds his voice.  He doesn't sacrifice himself by going against the scapegoating of Mr. Keating, but he is the first one to stand up and say, "Oh, Captain, My Captain"
 
DPS is pretty coherent theme-wise.  Early on, we see that each character is wrestling with their own version of "seize the day" and that the movie explores these different permutations.  Understanding how theme works and knowing what theme beats (as opposed to story beats) you have to hit can also help you round out your script's emotional breadth.  In the next issue, I am will include a quick follow up article (in addition to the regular craft article) that will use a scene from Dead Poets Society to illustrate a type of scene that you must include to augment your theme.
 
If you have made it this far, click here to get your reward.  And if you want some homework, check out the two scenes of Knox at the party and see if you can figure out why going after the girl and kissing her isn't Carpe Diem.  In fact, it's the exact opposite.  This will be the topic of next issue's bonus article.
 
For more about how thinking like a filmmaker can help you with your screenwriting craft, click here. 
 
Consider picking a movie that you like and want to learn from and breaking it down in a similar fashion.  Seeing movies more - a lot more - than once is a key step in your growth as a writer.  And if you can use that as an excuse to plunk down on your couch all weekend and watch a movie, you can thank me by writing a great script.