Okay, I lied. Technically it takes two minutes – that is, the first two minutes of your pilot script. But getting those first two minutes of your script right is critical. Okay, I lied again. Three minutes. But I’m calling it The First Two Minutes.
Think of it from a producer’s point of view. They have work to do, meetings to attend, forms to fill in, people to email, egos to massage and, at some point, scripts to read. Maybe a dozen are kicking around the desk or lurking in their inbox. They pick yours off the pile or click open the pdf. They begin to read and three or four pages in, they’re none the wiser about what your show is, who it’s about or why they should read the remaining thirty pages. The phone rings. The script is put down. It is not picked up again.
What I’m saying is that it’s not just important that your first three minutes are funny, but they must demonstrate what the show is. And what it’s ultimately about. They hook you, and reel you in. You want to make sure that producer picks up your script again after that call – or, even better, ignores the call altogether because they’re engrossed in your script. (It could happen). So let’s think about those first Two Minutes for a few minutes.
Ever Decreasing Circles
Let’s consider the work of some real comedy legends, Esmonde and Larbey and their blissfully odd sitcom Ever Decreasing Circles, about Anne, who is married to a boring busybody, Martin, when Paul, a handsome man who’s everything Martin isn’t, moves in next door.
My abiding memory of that show is Martin walking in and fiddling with the phone in the hallway. He untangles the wire, or turns the phone round. He does this a lot – pretty much every episode. This tells you at least three or four things. He’s essentially obsessively compulsive. His wife, Anne isn’t, for it is obviously her who puts the phone down the wrong way round. She is clearly happy to do something she knows her husband will correct. And Martin is prepared to do it week after week and force a smile afterwards.
Anne comments on the phone thing in the first episode – which is well worth looking at. Watch the opening scenes of the first episode. It’s genius, a real masterclass in making full use of your First Two Minutes. All you need to know about the show is in the first three. By then, you know all about Martin and Paul, which is ultimately the key relationship in the show. Every line and action builds and builds. He’s shouting cheerfully after the boys who’ve just been thrashed at football. He wipes his feet for ages. He does the phone thing. He talks to Paul in an overly knowledgeable way. He thinks he’s winning at life. There’s an interesting moment at 2.58 when Paul reacts to something Martin says – and looks to Anne who doesn’t see anything unusual in this comment. This is the world we are in. It’s masterful. Please. Take the time. Watch it. It’s on Youtube (although it shouldn’t be. Last time I checked, I couldn’t find it).
What If It’s Not a Pilot?
If you’re writing a whole series, lucky you. But it’s still worth bearing this First Two Minutes factor in mind since you cannot assume your audience know the characters or can vividly remember them all - unless you're on Series 7 of your hit sitcom, in which case, you wouldn’t be reading this book (and if you are, can I have a job, please?) In a first series, I’d recommend you always re-introduce your characters. Give the audience a hand getting a handle on them.
Dad’s Army
I’m not a particularly big fan of Dad's Army. It’s a show I respect greatly – but not one I especially find myself wanting to watch, despite the BBC offering me continual opportunities to do so. I stumbled on an episode a couple of years ago as it was starting, the episode being ‘Brain vs Brawn’ from Series 5. I was struck by the first two minutes, which were very impressive from a writing point of view, and summarised the show in a little vignette.
The show opens at a Rotary club. Captain Mainwaring is there, receiving a sherry from a waitress, who says he can only have one because of wartime rationing. Sergeant Wilson arrives, who is there as Mainwaring’s guest. Mainwaring points out the President of the Club and encourages Wilson to ingratiate himself with him, but Wilson turns his back to talk to the waitress, complimenting her on a pretty brooch. She is flattered and says she'll try and find him some extra sherry. Then Wilson meets the President of the Club - and it turns out he and Wilson were at school together and shared a room for a little while. Mainwaring tries to reassert supremacy by saying that Wilson works for him, but Wilson and the President walk off together, leaving Mainwaring behind - and the president says cheerio to Mainwaring, getting his name wrong.
The entirety of Dad's Army is summed up beautifully in that little opening scene. The two main characters do their thing, and perform a mini-sketch, with nice jokes that sets up the rest of the show.
The only drawback about starting with this kind of scene is that it might not be barnstormingly hilarious with a huge pay off at the end. But at this stage, a hook is a good as a huge set piece and, crucially, it shows what you can do as a writer. The producer will hopefully pick up your script after her phone call.
Alternatively
... there is something to be said for a different First Two Minutes, which we shall call the Brilliant Set-Piece Scene With A Thwacking Joke At The End. If you go down this road, you are doing so at the expense of introducing the characters to the audience or whoever is reading your script. But it does at least build confidence that this is going to be a funny show.
If you can pull it off, don’t choose. Cheat. Do both. Miranda does this very successfully. She immediately builds rapport with the audience, establishing herself as a character, highlighting the potentially troublesome relationships in the show (with Penny, Gary, Stevie or Tilly) - and cutting to some big strong visual jokes to get the show moving comically.
If you watch the first two minutes of action (post titles) of Episode 1 of Blackadder Goes Forth, you see that Blackadder is cultured, since he’s reading a book and listening to classical music. Already he is at odds with the world around him. You quickly learn that Baldrick is very stupid, George is fanatically patriotic, and
Blackadder feels he’s above the whole thing. That's the show. Then George produces a service revolver, and the story begins. Great start.
Give your script the best chance of succeeding and impressing by taking a good long look at your first two minutes. Do they really demonstrate what the show is going to be? Do we get who the characters are? Do we understand the situation? And do we see the conflicts beginning to emerge?
Happy now? Good. Let’s start writing the script.
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