I want to look at one more dialogue sequence from WHITE LOTUS; it's a scene I've already written about before in terms of the unexpected catharsis it provides. In 206, Harper wakes up to find Ethan mad that she still doesn't believe him and then they end up talking about their relationship.
The thing I had noted before is how exhilarating it is to watch Harper, who has for most of the series been the one insisting they're fine, they're the "good ones," now in a place where she's willing to be real and acknowledge the challenges in their relationship.
But it's also a great sequence in terms of the battle that happens. It begins in a very clear way: I feel like you don't believe me. It's not fair. BAM, right away he sets out his goal/want, what he's aiming for—stop disbelieving me, which is really another way of saying, stop making me feel uncomfortable.
The way the sequence opens is such a great example of how to do dialogue. You don't need a lot of banter beforehand. A character can just name their desire or position, and off we go. When in doubt, don't dick around. Just get into it.
(Along these lines, an editing idea: Once you've got the basic plot and scenes the way you want them, go back and look at the beginning and the end of every scene. How long does it take to get to the thing the scene is about (i.e. for at least one character to name their desire)?
And at the end, how long do you go on after one side wins? At least in my scripts, this is often one of the major problems. I just love the banter. If you can merciless in cutting a lot of that stuff away, it can often really energize your script.)
So, Ethan has made his desire known: he wants Harper to reassure him that everything's fine. It's a totally unreasonable desire, given the fact that a) he spent the night with two hookers, and b) he pretty much lied about it, too. But that in some ways makes it even better as his desire, because it puts the conflict right out there.
It takes a minute to get to Harper's own desire in the scene. At first she's just willing to mollify him, but he doesn't believe her. (Again, so unreasonable and therefore so great. This scene reveals SO MUCH about Ethan.)
But then he insists, they've always been honest with each other, and we get her position: "No, we haven't." In other words, I don't want to bullshit, I want to be real with you.
And what follows is just so great. She doesn't attack him, but her questions about the truth of their relationship absolutely do refuse to give him the reassurance he wants. And he goes from trying to keep the conversation about whether he cheated, which suddenly is a MUCH safer conversation to have—to speechlessness, as she names what she fears: "Maybe something has died. We are too young to be this old. I’m sure you don’t want that part of your life to be over do you. I don’t."
Mike White, Aubrey Plaza and Will Sharpe do a masterful job of making those lines play not like a monologue, but a continuation of the battle. Harper waits a beat after each sentence to give him a chance to speak, and White cuts back to Ethan, giving that dialogical sense. But Ethan has nothing until she's done, when he tries another route to disarm this suddenly very real conversation: I'm just exhausted. We can work on this. In other words, please stop freaking me out, like I asked you to.
And the conclusion is pretty much the purest, most distilled form of everything that's come before. Harper wonders, "Do you even want me?" For her, this is the heart of the matter. And his response is a the purest form of dodge: "I love you."
She's so wonderfully disgusted with that answer: "So depressing," she says. She's trying to be real, and not only won't he go there, he's trying to shut the whole thing down by appealing to some marriage fantasy.
We get one last beat: he questions how him loving her could be depressing—one more time, trying to push her to see things his way, aka to help him feel better. And she relents. "No. I love you too." Then she changes the subject to something more normal for them: Is he going to go running? She could care less, obviously; but she's legitimately trying to signal to him, everything's fine. He doesn't have to be worried or uncomfortable any more. In other words, in a very authentic way she's trying to give him what he wanted.
But he doesn't go running. He tells her he doesn't know what he wants to do. And as she walks off he just sits there, running his hand through his hair, unsatisfied with his win.
There's just nothing better than giving someone what they want—in his case, a conversation that leads to her telling him everything is fine—and it being a disaster.
There's also something wonderful about a fight that isn't two people completely disagreeing. Shouting matches are exhausting. Harper definitely wants a real conversation, but she's also coming from a place of love, unlike Ethan, who is basically a child who stubbed his toe and wants mommy to make him feel better.
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And that ends what unexpectedly became a month long riff on WHITE LOTUS. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it.
Come back next week for... THE LAST OF US...TREASON...and other stuff!
