A wise man once asked: Can any single person shut the f— up about any single thing for [even] an hour? While this question is perhaps best applied to a comment section anywhere the internet, I find myself asking a related, albeit more polite, question to screenwriters: Can you let your characters talk less?
Don’t get me wrong—I’m not against films and TV with a lot of dialogue. I love a fast-talking, word-heavy screwball comedy like His Girl Friday (1940) or The Philadelphia Story (1940) and detail-driven (and thus necessarily verbose) pieces like The Big Short (2014) or The West Wing. But lately, I’ve been drawn to the deft storytelling of films and TV that don’t rely on the script to communicate. Think along the lines of…
Small Things Like These (2024)
Past Lives (2023)
An Caílín Ciuín (The Quiet Girl) (2022)
Nomadland (2020)
Moonlight (2016)
The Bear (select episodes; I’m thinking in particular of the season three opener, “Tomorrow”)
Normal People
And that neglects films that have almost no or no dialogue at all, like Wall-E (2008), The Artist (2012), and Flow (2024). While it’s true that words have a lot of power and can be used to create great beauty, it’s also true that the script isn’t the only vehicle to communicate a story.
I’ve already talked a little about my admiration for Small Things Like These, which was not only one of 2024’s best (and most underrated) films, but also, as far as I’m concerned, a career-best performance from Cillian Murphy. Based on Claire Keegan’s equally succinct 2021 novella of the same name, Small Things revolves around Bill Furlong (played by Murphy), a reserved coal merchant who discovers truths about the church around which his town revolves. True to its name, Small Things focuses on the small gestures and reactions, leaving much unsaid though not necessarily unseen. The screenplay, which was written by Enda Walsh and Claire Keegan, gives us many characters who say very little, from Bill himself to his wife Eileen (Eileen Walsh), Sister Mary, the local convent’s Mother Superior (Emily Watson), and troubled teen Sarah (Zara Devlin). Rather than making its primary focus what the characters say, the film spends a lot of time on the actors’ expressions and body language, leaving the brunt of the storytelling in their more-than-capable hands. The combination of Tim Mielants’ striking direction, Walsh and Keegan’s screenplay, and stellar performances from the entire cast creates a movie that is muted but profoundly moving.
This leads me to a key point: a dialogue-light script demands excellence from its cast and crew in order to succeed. Witty writing and striking lines can cover a multitude of sins—subpar direction, bad lighting, a lackluster set, actors struggling to fully fit into the character—but with a minimalist screenplay, everyone else has to really deliver. Look at another example of a first-rate film with limited dialogue, Barry Jenkins’ 2017 Best Picture winner Moonlight; without the outstanding performances from its cast, James Laxton’s exceptional cinematography, and Joi McMillon and Nat Sanders’ stellar editing, the film—even with its thoughtful and poignant script by Barry Jenkins and Tarell Alvin McCraney—wouldn’t shine nearly as brightly. And in Celine Song’s Past Lives, the relatively sparse screenplay not only allows a radiant Greta Lee to shine but also gives each line that is uttered more weight. This scene would stand out in any movie, but its emotional heft is increased here given that we don’t often see these characters express themselves verbally.
Films and TV that don’t lean as heavily on writing deliver a product that feels like more of a team effort, showcasing the talents of everyone involved. As an audience member, I want that! I want to see outstanding performances and beautiful camerawork and considered direction, and I want to let the score and the set speak as well as the script. Sure, it’s a big ask to want every single person participating in a project operating at the highest level, but as Sondheim says, art isn’t easy—and the art of making art is putting it together.
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The actor Montgomery Clift was well known once he got his script to cut his dialogue when he felt a look could convey as much if not more than the words in the script.