
“Coke. See. It’s, uh…it’s a drink. We drink it. You know. Food.”
Is that great dialogue? Hmmm. You be the judge. The speech goes on:
“…And look, they can even have wars. Look at this. And look…fish. The fish eat the fish food. And the shark eats the fish. And nobody eats a shark. See, this is Pez. Candy. See, you eat it. You put the candy in here. And then when you lift up the head, the candy comes out. And you can eat it. You want some? This is a peanut. You eat it. But you can’t eat this one, because this is fake. This is money. We put the money in the peanut, you see…?”
Out of context it doesn’t look like much, does it? Drivel, in fact. But when you consider what’s happening at this moment in the story (a very well known story), it takes on a functional brilliance that’s inspired and hard to beat.
Okay, I won’t be cute: the story is E.T. the Extra Terrestrial, from the movie, written by Melissa Mathison. It is the moment when the main character, Elliot, a young boy, suddenly realizes he might be able to communicate with the little alien. For E.T. it is a pivotal moment, and the beginning of his salvation, because without it, he is doomed.
Two principles are working here (I hadn’t forgotten):
(1) As in life, great dialogue is rarely about what it is about. Elliot is talking about Star Wars action figures. But through that seemingly random snatch of prattle we are seeing the first glimmer of hope for a forlorn little alien, accidentally cast away on a strange planet: that he might actually have half a chance to save himself. It’s a thrilling moment, and a key turning point for E.T.–the beat that generates the entire rest of story.
(2) Eloquence in dramatic dialogue–and that includes fiction–is often directly at odds with what we think of when we say “eloquence”–a great political speech, for instance. Often, incoherence is powerfully eloquent, where a well-turned phrases would flop. Imagine, for instance, if this had been Elliot’s line:
“What? Are you trying to communicate with me? Of course you are. You’re an alien in our world. You need to know what things mean here on earth, don’t you? As opposed the way you speak about them at home, wherever that might be. This is fantastic! Well, okay, let’s start with these common objects, toys I play with every day…”
And already your manuscript is in the waste basket.
PS
The intention of the big Coke image at the top was not to shill for Coca Cola. Unlike Stephen Spielberg, I get nothing for product placement. My sole purpose was to attract your attention–and if you’ve read this far, I guess it worked–but do drink whatever you want: a Pepsi, a coffee, a glass of tap water, or nothing at all.
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