Screenwriting : Props -- They're Characters Too! (Or: When In Doubt, Break It!) by Ryan Christians

Working with writers and directors, we spend a lot of time discussing characters, settings, time periods, set pieces, action sequences, and more, designing each of them to have the right textures, colors, dynamics to bring our story to life, to make it the very best it can be.

But... what about props? 

Where would our stories and characters be without those essential tools that help them get the job done and -- with a little flair and dimensionalization -- become iconic extensions of the characters themselves.

After all, who is Luke Skywalker without his lightsaber? Indiana Jones without his whip? Dorothy without those ruby red slippers? Doc & Marty without the DeLorean? The Man with the Golden Gun without the-- well, you know what I mean. Needless to say, the examples go on and on...

But it's not enough to have a prop, tool, or object that simply looks cool or interesting on its face. The very best ones -- the ones that become legendary, that become signposts for the entire movie/franchise -- are props that have character.

But how can we give props character?

There are, of course, a number of ways to do this. But as a singular exercise, let me share this: a very successful writer I know has a little trick he uses when he wants to make a prop memorable, a simple trick that is based on the following statement:

An object is far more interesting narratively when it DOESN'T work like it should, than when it does.

Think about it: Dorothy tries to click her heels to return home, but it doesn't work... and thus she must carry on with her adventure. The DeLorean stalls out at key narrative moments. In Man on Fire, Denzel's gun fails to fire when he tries to commit suicide, where as Ralphie's Red Ryder BB gun nearly does shoot his eye out (which I'll call a "failure" from Ralphie's perspective) in A Christmas Story.

And an object can "not work" in more than just a literal sense -- it can malfunction in ways that serve the narrative or, oftentimes, the comedy. Take Superbad: McLovin's iconic fake ID is a prime example of a prop "failing," but in a way that serves the comedy more so than the character's literal agenda. When director Greg Mottola gives the audience that close-up of the world’s worst fake ID, it's hard not to break out laughing.

(A similar takeaway could be applied to the stalled-out Volkswagen van in Little Miss Sunshine.)

So -- as you strive to elevate your story and bring depth and richness to every element in your script -- don't forget the props. When constructed with care, you may end up with the next Pulp Fiction suitcase, the Wilson volleyball, or a Legally Blonde fuzzy pen.

And hey, when in doubt: just break it!