Five Lesser-Known Techniques to Write a Scene
OK–we get it.
Your protagonist enters the scene with a goal, runs into an obstacle, must face a dilemma, and then makes a decision. That basic framework (GODD) is solid, but it’s also the minimum viable product.
To wit: knowing how to play Chopsticks doesn’t make you Glenn fucking Gould.
If you want to take a serviceable scene and make it memorable, to memorable, you’ll need a deeper toolbox. Let’s go through five lesser-known techniques that make scenes truly come alive.
While these techniques don’t necessarily seem complex on paper, they distinguish blah, pedestrian writing from writing that crackles with energy, theme, and drive.
1. Midpoint Shift: As the Worm Turns
What It Is:
A midpoint shift occurs within the scene, not the story’s midpoint. It’s a moment where the energy or power dynamic reverses, ideally giving the audience a jolt. Goals might change, stakes intensify, or, as the Dude might say, new shit comes to light.
The scene heads one way, then cuts hard in another direction.
Why It Works:
Scenes without change feel inert. A midpoint shift ensures motion. It keeps the audience on their toes.
Example: The Social Network – Deposition Scene
When Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield) realizes that Zuck diluted his shares, the deposition scene begins with a controlled, if angry Eduardo. Midway through, however, Eduardo lunges across the room and smashes Mark’s laptop.
Cerebral becomes visceral. Eduardo’s goal shifts from legal retaliation to raw emotional expression. The balance of power has shifted.
Key Takeaway:
Ask yourself: what shifts halfway through this scene?
2. Specific A vs. B Conflict: Not Just a Group Fight
What It Is:
The most effective scenes often boil down to a specific conflict between two sharply defined points of view or goals—even if there are more characters in the room. It’s not just a general argument; it’s a clean fight between “Position A” and “Position B.”
Why It Works:
The brain likes clarity. Vague group dialogue dilutes tension. A vs. B conflict creates a clear dramatic line that audiences can follow. It forces your characters to commit to a stance and push against real resistance.
You’ll notice that even in scenes where it feels as if there are multiple viewpoints, they can in most cases be boiled down to a one side vs. the other sort of fight.
Example: 12 Angry Men – Juror 8 vs. Juror 3
Yes, there are twelve people, but the emotional heartbeat of the movie is Juror 8 (Fonda) vs. Juror 3 (Cobb). The other jurors fluctuate, but the narrative clarity comes from this central, escalating conflict.
It is always clear who stands for what—and what’s at stake.
Rare Exception: Reservoir Dogs – Mexican Standoff
Tarantino pulls off a rare “group scene” with multiple conflicting agendas (e.g., Mr. White, Mr. Orange, Joe, and Nice Guy Eddie all pointing guns). It works because each person’s motivation is crystal clear–and this is a character study as much as a gangster film–while the geometry of the standoff physically embodies their positions.
Bonus points for noticing how this reflects the points each man made when discussing Madonna in the diner scene.
Key Takeaway:
Even in a crowded scene, locate the central tension. Who’s really in conflict? Write the scene from the perspective of this conflict, where even sideline characters are allied with one side or the other.
3. Tie to the Broader Theme: Microcosm as Mirror
What It Is:
A great scene echoes or expands the film’s central theme. This fractal geometry ensures that the same emotional DNA that is present in the macro story shows up in the micro scene.
Why It Works:
Theme gives a story weight. Thematically resonant scenes feel cohesive and purposeful, even if the audience doesn’t consciously detect it. A film is not meant to be merely “a bunch of stuff that happens.”
Example: No Country for Old Men – Gas Station Coin Toss
Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem) forces a gas station attendant to “call it” on a coin toss, encapsulates the film’s theme of fate vs. agency. It’s a micro-play about randomness, power, and mortality—all wrapped in (chillingly) polite small talk and suspense.
Key Takeaway:
When writing a scene, ask: how does this reflect the bigger idea I’m exploring? Images, sound, metaphor, broader story. There are many ways to do this and it’s not necessarily helpful to be didactic.
Thematic alignment adds depth that the audience will appreciate, even if they don’t consciously realize it.
4. At Least One Mildly Surprising Outcome
What It Is:
Even in a classic structure, the resolution of the scene must have something that hits sideways.Predictability kills interest.
Why It Works:
The human animal pattern-seeking, but loves to be surprised. The problem is how to make something that matches an obvious pattern not be predictable.
The answer tends to be “same same, but different.” There’s something that feels good to watch and allows for a prediction, but we can strike gold when the outcome feels shocking, yet inevitable in hindsight.
Example: The Godfather – “Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.”
The scene already ends with a murder (this is not the surprise). What subverts audience expectation is the tone. “Take the cannoli” and its mundane domesticity adds humor, character depth, and thematic richness to the brutal killing.
A comedic tag such as this can work even in gangster films (as we have seen) or heady dramas. Similarly, you might see a tragic end to a comedic scene like the horse’s death in Animal House.
The entire tone doesn’t have to shift, but you can start from the tonal opposite and work your way back to something that feels surprising, yet natural.
Key Takeaway:
If the audience can see the final beat coming, you have a problem. Pull the rug out from under audience expectation. Just make sure there’s a floor underneath that rug.
Bonus tip: queue up the beats of the scene and ask ChatGPT to write an ending. Chances are, whatever it says will be the obvious solution. Don’t use that.
You are, however, one data point closer to getting a great ending when you write a scene.
5. Start Late, Get Out Early: In Media Res
What It Is:
The scene begins in the middle of something—not with people entering a room and saying hello. It ends before the cleanup. Viewers don’t care.
Why It Works:
This technique increases narrative momentum while also treats your audience with respect. Don’t explain things that are obviously going to happen.
Every frame matters. Every second feels like part of the story’s bloodstream.
NB: it is possible to subvert this entirely, such as the floor sweeping scene in Twin Peaks: the Return, or a lot of European cinema that finds value in semi-hypnotic lingering. Consider pace and behave accordingly. This is your scene, after all.
Point being, however, that even these scenes rarely involve someone entering through a door, engaging in banal small talk, or the other sort of shit that you know had to happen to get where you are.
Example: Fargo – Kidnapping Scene
Jean Lundegaard’s kidnapping starts mid-action. It ends as she’s screaming in the back of the car. No preamble. No aftermath. Just the emotional and visual core.
Key Takeaway:
If you’re worried, cut the first and last line of the scene and see how it plays. When you write a scene, jump in where the juice starts flowing. Bail before it goes flat.
A Layered Subtext
What It Is:
A scene becomes more than the sum of its dialogue when subtext arises: what’s said is not what’s meant, or the power dynamic flips emotionally or psychologically.
Why It Works:
Subtext creates tension and texture. A character’s words belying her emotional state invites the audience to engage actively. Look at the Chinese restaurant scene in The Apartment.
Similarly, shifting power within a conversation keeps it alive and unpredictable.
Example: Marriage Story – Apartment Argument
A negotiation becomes a nuclear emotional fallout. The power swings wildly. First he has control, then she does. They don’t mean the brutal things they say. Emotional truth lies beneath the dialogue.
Key Takeaway:
Ask: What are the characters not saying? Who has the upper hand—and how might that flip as you write a scene?
Pulling It All Together: A Quick Case Study
Let’s analyze one particular scene using multiple techniques.
Scene: Heat – McCauley and Hanna at the Diner
Two men—cop and criminal—sit across from each other.
It’s about identity. It’s about what makes them the same. It reflects the themes of the film (loneliness, duality, obsession). It shows mutual respect, not antagonism.
The midpoint shift is tonal: professional sparring becomes an intimate revelation. There’s a clear, but quiet, A vs. B conflict.
They’re testing each other’s worldview. It starts late (mid-conversation) and ends early (before resolution). Each line bleeds subtext.
Two men talking. And it’s electrifying.
Scene Is Story in Miniature
If your screenplay feels slow, messy, or disconnected, perhaps individual scenes aren’t doing enough work. Every scene must earn its place. That means conflict, yes—but also theme, structure, tension, and surprise.
So as you revise your script, don’t just ask, “What happens in this scene?”
Ask instead:
- Where does the shift occur?
- Who is the A and who is the B, and how do they crash?
- How does this moment echo the theme?
- What’s surprising or ironic or unexpectedly moving?
- Can I cut the first and last lines and still make it better?
- What’s being said beneath the surface?
Remember, a great film is just a long string of great scenes.