
There’s a section about halfway through the 2012 remake of Red Dawn, in which the surviving young people put on their game faces and start figuring out how to take the battle back to the enemy. Under the direction of their Marine leader, they start learning about weapons and tactics, how to work together as a group and become the lean, mean fighting machine that’s going to make the enemy’s big bad army sit up and take notice. This entire segment is exhibited as a montage, a rapid series of shots, all meshing together to show what’s happening over a period of time.
Red Dawn (2012), FilmDistrict.
As soon as this section started up, I looked over at my viewing partner and said, “I think they think they just montaged the best part of the movie,” to which he nodded in agreement. I saw this same thing again recently in a romantic comedy that montaged the entire segment of the couple falling in love. As a viewer, I’m now going, “What have you done?”
If a story is montaging its most important scenes—those in which the characters are undergoing deep and important personal changes—then you know something’s wrong. And this problem definitely isn’t exclusive to the movies. Sometimes authors lose sight of the scenes that really matter in their stories. This can happen for a number of reasons, including oversight, laziness, or even a fearful resistance to having to write these scenes. Readers won’t accept any of these excuses.
If you find yourself summarizing important or potentially juicy scenes, stop and reevaluate what you’re doing. Whatever your reason, it’s not good enough. Readers are reading your book because of these scenes. They want to experience them. They want to see your characters growing and reacting. This is a prime example of why, in most instances, it’s so important to show rather than tell.
