The 'Seemingly Unrelated Anecdote'

One of the most enduring features of TV drama scripts has to be the ‘Seemingly Unrelated Anecdote’, a trope so important it will henceforth appear in both bold and italics, people. Whenever it shows up in TV or film I give a little cheer. I love it. And once spotted you see it everywhere. They must teach it in script-writing school or sump’m.

Anyway. Here’s my handy ten-part guide to making a correct identification… and perhaps even using it in your own fiction.

1. Look out for two characters together alone.
2. One – we’ll refer to them as ‘the student’ – must be going through an emotional and psychological moment of weakness, the other – ‘the sage’ – must be stronger and wiser. (There are loads of ways to emphasise this gulf in capability; make one younger, one older, make one a beginner the other an expert, use class, age, gender. Whatever.)
3. Now have the weaker of the two characters, (the student, if you will), fess up to their fears and ask for guidance. Have them outline the general crapiness of the shared situation.
4. The student must finish with a colour-by-numbers re-cap even the most distracted viewer could follow, along the lines of; “We’re trapped in this compound. The guards mistakenly think we’re criminals. My boy is out there somewhere and I can’t even begin to search for him. What the hell do we do?”
5. In response to this plea, the sage should pause mysteriously. Remember, they’re choosing from a wealth of possible gnomic utterances - that takes time.
6. After a beat, they respond. But here’s the thing. Instead of a handy solution (“Well, we could bust out of here using this handily concealed arsenal of semi-automatic weapons and then rescue your kid, right?”) the sage instead delivers the Seemingly Unrelated Anecdote. It should be relatively long and delivered in slow, reverential silence.
7. In terms of style, look for lofty and poetic. Pauses abound. This is recognisably not natural human speech; you’re asking the actor to work hard. They should always tear up as they speak.
8. The opening line of the Seemingly Unrelated Anecdote should be “When I was a child…” Go for as many pseudo-metaphors as possible. Everything should be loaded with symbolic potential. Don’t worry about meaning though, just try including a reference to “my father”, “an old man”, “a dark night festooned with glittering stars”, “dark circles beneath their eyes” and “a ripe and fragrant watermelon.”
9. Cut to the listening student character during delivery of this speech. They are silent, completely focused and – here’s the crucial thing – seemingly able to draw succour from the speech; hell, even possibly understand it.
10. The scene must conclude as the speech does. There is no further dialogue. (Under no circumstances must the student character respond with, “But wait – what?”)

Sample script illustrating Seemingly Unrelated Anecdote

The ‘student’: Frank is 32, a recently widowed young father learning leadership in difficult circumstances following the outbreak of a deadly virus.

The ‘sage’: Alberto is 67; Mexican, a wizened Psychology professor from humble beginnings.

Frank: We’re trapped in this compound. The guards mistakenly think we’re criminals. My boy’s out there somewhere and I can’t even begin to search for him. What the hell do we do?

Alberto: (beat) When I was a child, my father was a fruit farmer. One night after school he took me out into the fields. The wind was up, singing in the caged branches of the pines. It was a dark night festooned with glittering stars. He’d been working the fields all day. As he took my hand I remember feeling his calloused skin, seeing the dark circles beneath his eyes. The sleeping field of ripe fragrant watermelon perfumed the air. We walked to the middle, where he stooped to examine the fruit and together we split one open. We ate. (Alberto opens his hands and stares at his palms) The melon was sweet and the flesh was smooth. But the seeds – I’ll never forget the seeds. They were like bullets. So hard; so unforgiving. I knew then I could never work the land the way my father did.

Perhaps you too are no farmer.

Alberto turns and leaves.

Frank: (beat) But wait – what?