The Art of Implied Dialogue

This entry contains plot points from season 1 of Nashville and the 2010 Christmas special of Benidorm. If you don’t want to know about these, skip over this entry.

This week, I encountered a particular technique in screenwriting that I’ve seen before, but I’ve been unable to find out its name. Instead, let me give you an example from a show I’m currently watching.

Nashville is a drama series all about the world of country music. In an episode from Season 1, the characters Rayna James and Teddy Conrad agree to divorce, facing the problem of how to tell their two school-age children.

When the moment finally arrives, viewers don’t hear the conversation because music is playing in the background. It hardly matters, however, as we know roughly what’s being said and how difficult it is for all sides.

The other similar example I have is from the comedy series Benidorm.

At the end of the 2010 Christmas special, the character of Mel Harvey was hastily written out of the series, reflecting the real-life death of the actor Geoffrey Hutchings. In the scene, his son-in-law Mick Garvey receives a phone call from the hospital while at a theatre show with his family.

During the call, we can only hear Mick’s side of the conversation. When he passes on the news to the others, the dialogue is drowned out by music, but the episode as a whole contains enough information for us to understand what’s happened. It’s particularly effective here because Mick normally has an antagonistic relationship with his mother-in-law Madge, but it’s clearly been put to one side.

A technique like this works best when it’s saved for the scenes that can carry the weight and let the surrounding story do the talking. When the audience is trusted to fill in the gaps, the effect can be remarkably strong.

And, as I said at the start, I still don’t know what this technique is officially called. If you do, leave a comment.