Dialogue is an integral part of the media we consume, whether it be film, TV or books, it can make or break a piece of entertainment depending on how it is handled. But how does it compare to the real life conversations that you or I may have on a daily basis? That is something I would like to explore further by taking a look at real examples of interactions between average joes such as myself, and media that ranges from improvisation to dramatice multipart streaming shows.
‘Real’ Dialogue
In the hubbub of a normal visit to the city, one might gather snippets of all sorts of conversations just by going about their shopping and other menial tasks. In a cafe you might overhear friends in the next booth over talking about sales at their favourite shops or how one of them had trouble getting their baby ready for bed the night prior. At say, Mcdonalds, you might catch the staff at the stills making stupid jokes to lighten the load of a long shift or airing their grievances at the latest promotional event. While you’re there, perhaps you have a chat with a stranger who is miffed about how the schedule for breakfast and regular food keeps changing – when really, they just keep forgetting what time they start and end. As you wait in line at Primark you could become a spectator to a heated debate between teenagers as they discuss the latest films and the juiciest drama from their school, all the while filling in those momentary pauses with “uhms,” “errs,” and the first curse word that comes to their mind.
It is these spectacularly unspectacular interactions that make up the bulk of our day to day lives. It is not often that people make proclamations of bravery and sacrifice like the speeches from The Lord of The Rings, navigate intricacies of disturbing relationships as seen in You or engage in a battle of wits that unravels into a grander debate on the very nature of good and evil such as the ones front and centre in Game of Thrones and The Witcher. Is it a bad thing then, that these films and shows do not accurately reflect our lives?
No!
Entertainment, believe it or not, is made to entertain. Which is why it is necessary for dialogue to be exaggerated for dramatic effect. Complete and utter realism would make for, in my opinion, an uninteresting experience for audiences. However, when appropriate realistic interactions are used in tandem with these more heightened moments, dialogue that is interesting – and in some cases, refreshing – can still be created.
Improv: Dimension 20
One of my more recent obsessions that is regularly consuming my spare time is a show called, Dimension 20. Based on the tabletop role playing game, Dungeons and Dragons, a cast of comedians and actors, lead by their “humble dungeon master” Brennan Lee Mulligan, improvise their way through loosely scripted D&D campaigns. What makes a show about essentially watching people play a board game so entertaining is the cast’s ability to roleplay as funny and unique characters all the while riffing off of one another’s jokes.
What makes this relevant to my previous point? Well it’s the fact that this is a piece of media that comes close to somewhat replicating “realistic” dialogue. Despite the production value, audience members are still watching a group of nerds play a widely accessible game while they attempt to make each other laugh and tell a compelling story through their combined efforts. Dialogue is broken up with lots of those aforementioned “uhms,” and “errs,” as the players attempt to come up with ideas on the fly, not to mention the frequent laughing fits caused by said ideas. The players will also occasionally break character to engage in casual conversation as they attempt to figure out puzzles created by Brennan. Sometimes clues will go over their heads, solutions won’t be immediately obvious to them and they’ll make more simple mistakes like dropping their dice and forgetting the rules of the game. I mention this because it makes the viewing experience that much more genuine and relatable.
That being said, the production value backing the show can’t be ignored. A crew of makeup artists and producers sit behind the cameras, professional artists create high production sets for the battle sequences and VFX’s are used that most people simply don’t have access to. There is even a gap between the players on the show and players who create their own campaigns at home, as Dimension 20’s cast are – as mentioned previously – comedians who naturally possess better roleplaying and improvisational skills than average fans of Dungeons and Dragons. Meaning that even a show like D20, and others in the genre (Critical Role and Not Another D&D Podcast for example) are still fantasised versions of ordinary life and by extension, dialogue.
However, that isn’t meant as a critique as all of these factors come together to create a highly entertaining series that makes its usually two hour long episodes fly by.
Compilations of clips from the official Dimension 20 YouTube Channel:
Books: Stephen King and A.J.Finn
Moving away from loosely scripted to the complete opposite, I thought it would be unjust to talk about dialogue without mentioning Stephen King. The king of Horror has always had a knack for contextualising fantastical terrors within believable and relatable settings, with part of that effect coming from the characters he writes and the realistic dialogue he crafts for them. A number of King’s most memorable characters are teenagers who manage to evoke a sense of childhood nostalgia within readers no matter what generation they’re from. That’s because a lot of the insecurities, relationships and language – as vulgar as it can be – King explores through them are universal traits among that age demographic.
And it’s not just teenagers either. In King’s latest novel (yes he’s still going) Billy Summers, he encapsulates suburban life through Billy’s interactions with his neighbors during the book’s first act. Characters play board games, discuss garden work, socialise at barbeques and vent about ordinary problems in their day to day lives. Even then however, Billy is an assassin and his inner-monologues and interactions with certain characters are definitely not something you (hopefully) or I would experience.
The problem arises, however, when dialogue like this is focused on for too long. Insomnia is one of King’s weaker novels for a number of reasons, one of them being the abundance of scenes that feel like nothing but padding. Far too many times do readers have to slog through conversations about what character did what that morning or how the big chess tournament is coming up. I appreciate detail in my books, but even this was a bit too much for my taste. It is a shame too, as there truly are some chilling moments in this book and protagonist Ralph Roberts is perhaps one of King’s most endearing. Nonetheless, it goes to show that realistic dialogue doesn’t always improve a story.
Another author that I believe is worth mentioning is A.J.Finn as I have been recently reading through her hit thriller, The Woman In The Window. Like King, Finn uses realism to craft characters who feel believable and relatable while also telling a dramatic and compelling story. A highlight early on in the book is when protagonist, Anna Fox, meets with her new neighbor, Jane Russel, for the second time. The two exchange stories of motherhood and the regular hardships they face as they play board games and sip on wine. After a couple of bottles in, they become more prone to laughing fits, their speech becomes slurred and conversation topics flip flop. It’s a scene that successfully replicates a real life interaction and one that doesn’t stick around too long to become uninteresting.
The Woman In The Window has lots of moments like this as it’s a story more grounded in reality than something like King’s work, but where it still differs from our day to day lives is in the fact that its – very real – themes and ideas are dramatized and treated with more intensity through its dialogue; all, once again, in the name of entertainment.
Traditional Media: Castlevania
Staying on that Horror train, I want to also mention Castlevania. This animated series based on the game of the same name, is best described as gothic Game of Thrones. Viewers follow Trevor Belmont (vampire hunter), Sypha Belnades (magician) and Alucard (half-vampire) on their quest to kill Dracula himself. The three’s relationship is at the core of the series and thus their dialogue is written to be intriguing, with each of their personalities feeling distinct and unique. Trevor is informal and brash, Alucard is witty but a bit pompous and Sypha is the sensible anchor keeping them steady. From their bickering to their more intimate moments, the group’s dialogue is never not entertaining.
That same effect transfers the rest of the cast as well. Dracula, while coming off as a more despondent and defeated interpretation of the classic character, is still a dominating presence in every scene he’s in thanks to his compelling dialogue and, of course, Graham McTavish’s stellar voice acting performance. Isaac and Camila are also highlights, with the former regularly treating viewers to unhinged but interesting monologues on the nature of men and the latter effortlessly navigating her way through courts of vampires with a silver tongue.
There are so many powerful moments from this show that it’s hard to pick my favourite, but one that at least comes to mind initially is Isaac’s conversation with the captain in season three. Isaac tells the Captain his story and his desire to wipe out the human race despite suspecting his master, Dracula, to be dead. His dialogue depicts him as a borderline zealot with an unwavering conviction to his cause, yet here he is talking to another member of his race. By contrast, the Captain’s nonchalant dialogue and relaxed disposition makes him deceivingly clever as he goes on to directly challenge both Isaac’s and Dracula’s ideals – making smart deductions of the latter – while subtly leading Isaac to his own conclusions. The writing here perfectly encapsulates these characters’ personalities and view of the world while never feeling too hamfisted with its ideas and metaphors. The recurring mention of gifts and jokes as proof of human kindness does not only provide opposition to Isaac’s beliefs but, in a more technical context, but also grants structure to the conversation, imbuing the scene with a sort of organic flow that ultimately enhances the viewing experience.
As one can imagine in a series about vampires and nightmare creatures, characters don’t often have a chance to slow down and appreciate the mundane. But that doesn’t mean audience members can’t relate to some of their struggles or sympathise with them. Sometimes it’s better to simply suspend your sense of disbelief and enjoy these character’s intellectual debates, marvel at the gruesome battles and allow yourself to escape to another world where people don’t think about what they’re going to cook for tea that night.
No Dialogue?
With all this talk of dialogue and realism and how it affects stories, I wanted to explore those pieces of media which are devoid of both and how they still manage to tell a compelling story. The Little Nightmares video game series is famously lacking in dialogue, yet through it’s visual storytelling has managed to captivate audiences across the world with its unsettling but deliciously mysterious setting and uniquely designed characters. Playing through the first game, players can easily pick up on its themes of anorexia and abuse and infer the type of relationships Six (the game’s protagonist) shares with the creatures she encounters and their motivations. The lack of dialogue perpetually shrouds the game with a layer of ambiguity that admittedly leaves players with a lack of definitive answers. This uncertainty however, is something that only draws you further into the game’s strange and creepy world.
An instance from the second game (5:01-5:37 in the video) forces the player to shut down the life support system for a silhouetted figure, just so that they can distract the main enemy of the area (The Doctor) for a few seconds. It’s a moment that feeds the player a snippet of information and gives them the slightest insight into The Doctor’s goals, yet ultimately leaves them with more questions than before. In most cases this would be a frustrating example of poor writing, however, here it works to the games advantage; forcing players to confront the morality of what they just did while also leaving them to speculate the relationship of the figure and The Doctor, and if there is more to these monsters than meets the eye.
Witchers and Witches 