Filmmaker Andrew Stanton on The Clues To A Great Story at TED – Transcript
Andrew Stanton – Filmmaker
A tourist is backpacking through the highlands of Scotland, and he stops at a pub to get a drink. And the only people in there is a bartender and an old man nursing a beer. And he orders a pint, and they sit in silence for a while. And suddenly the old man turns to him and goes, “You see this bar? I built this bar with my bare hands from the finest wood in the county, gave it more love and care than my own child. But do they call me MacGregor the bar builder? No.”
Points out the window. “You see that stone wall out there? I built that stone wall with my bare hands. Found every stone, placed them just so through the rain and the cold. But do they call me MacGregor the stone wall builder? No.”
Points out the window. “You see that pier on the lake out there? I built that pier with my bare hands. Drove the pilings against the tide of the sand, plank by plank. But do they call me MacGregor the pier builder? No. But you fuck one goat… “
Storytelling is joke telling. It’s knowing your punchline, your ending, knowing that everything you’re saying, from the first sentence to the last, is leading to a singular goal, and ideally confirming some truth that deepens our understandings of who we are as human beings. We all love stories. We’re born for them. Stories affirm who we are. We all want affirmations that our lives have meaning. And nothing does a greater affirmation than when we connect through stories. It can cross the barriers of time, past, present and future, and allow us to experience the similarities between ourselves and through others, real and imagined.
The children’s television host Mr. Rogers always carried in his wallet a quote from a social worker that said, “Frankly, there isn’t anyone you couldn’t learn to love once you’ve heard their story.” And the way I like to interpret that is probably the most, greatest story commandment, which is “Make me care” — please, emotionally, intellectually, aesthetically, just make me care. We all know what it’s like to not care. You’ve gone through hundreds of TV channels, just switching channel after channel, and then suddenly you actually stop on one. It’s already halfway over, but something’s caught you and you’re drawn in and you care. That’s not by chance, that’s by design.
So it got me thinking, what if I told you my history was story, how I was born for it, how I learned along the way this subject matter? And to make it more interesting, we’ll start from the ending and we’ll go to the beginning. And so if I were going to give you the ending of this story, it would go something like this: And that’s what ultimately led me to speaking to you here at TED about story.
And the most current story lesson that I’ve had was completing the film I’ve just done this year in 2012. The film is John Carter. It’s based on a book called The Princess of Mars, which was written by Edgar Rice Burroughs. And Edgar Rice Burroughs actually put himself as a character inside this movie, and as the narrator. And he’s summoned by his rich uncle, John Carter, to his mansion with a telegram saying, “See me at once.” But once he gets there, he’s found out that his uncle has mysteriously passed away and been entombed in a mausoleum on the property.
[Video – Butler: You won’t find a keyhole. Thing only opens from the inside. He insisted, no embalming, no open coffin, no funeral. You don’t acquire the kind of wealth your uncle commanded by being like the rest of us, huh? Come, let’s go inside.]
What this scene is doing, and it did in the book, is it’s fundamentally making a promise. It’s making a promise to you that this story will lead somewhere that’s worth your time. And that’s what all good stories should do at the beginning, is they should give you a promise. You could do it an infinite amount of ways. Sometimes it’s as simple as “Once upon a time … “ These Carter books always had Edgar Rice Burroughs as a narrator in it. And I always thought it was such a fantastic device. It’s like a guy inviting you around the campfire, or somebody in a bar saying, “Here, let me tell you a story. It didn’t happen to me, it happened to somebody else, but it’s going to be worth your time.” A well told promise is like a pebble being pulled back in a slingshot and propels you forward through the story to the end.
In 2008, I pushed all the theories that I had on story at the time to the limits of my understanding on this project.