You thus constructed the need to direct. Maybe TV spot is in a spin of technicoloured fantasy. Perhaps it’s a slow-burning drama with tension seeping into even lunchtime scenes. The directors treatment template takes the lead. Your pass to suits nod and producers sign on dotted lines is this.
This report is not a checklist by itself, though. Read it as a living, breathing snapshot of your vision—the DNA of your script in writing. Let’s concentrate on what really works. There’s never one size fits all. Yes, there are must-haves, but here it is where flexibility is really a requirement. First, keep it simple. Your name, the title of the project, perhaps two moody stills on a beautiful cover page. Before a word can be written, you want to whisper, “This is my story.”
The table of contents follows.
Don’t gloss over it; you’d be surprised at how many producers prefer to leap over to what most concerns them. The project description, therefore, is a neat, colorful two-sentence statement. Shed light on grandstanding evasion. Clearance in advance of bombast. What holds this together? Whose going to do it? Long after the credits finish rolling, what will still be in your viewer’s head? Now the good stuff. Think mood board by visual reference—images, drawings, color schemes. If the still from that offbeat French thriller gets to you, don’t hesitate to smash it. For couples, every graphic is like a pin on the map. Your style—that of “Why this way”—will have to be straightforward from the heart. Not necessary for high Falutin prose. Just say why you envision this scenario playing out as such. Perhaps your cuts are jerky and skittish; perhaps your lens lingers inches above the ground. Perhaps you wish to create a muffled sorrow that is interrupted by creaky floorboards only. Be specific; your enemy is ambiguity.
Usually, the story break creates lively argument. Chronological, maybe called slice-of- life? Either broad brushstrokes or beat by beat. That can’t be determined for you by any template. Just keep in mind: rhythm and simplicity enthralls. Your reader would want to scan it over coffee too.
Characters get their own page. Not books, study guides. Try “Jane: haunted eyes, yearning for home.” Seven seconds before concentration falters. Waste not.
Logistics—where place, casting, budget summaries—require explaining—shouldn’t have the reader trudging through documents. Season it, add a sparkle, not annihilate with description. You’re touching on possibilities, not writing a handbook.
Technicals such as camera movement, lighting rhythms, sound effects—these could be the jazz solo your template needs. A lunatic, temporarily silent idea may be more durable than a dusty reworking. You don’t have to be a gaffer; spill enough to give them the impression that you’ve done your research.
And then, your own creative comment. Why so? why you? You’re salivating your brows by now, but don’t leave integrity on the dustbin. Passion jumped off the page. cynicism sails through the borders.
Nobody ever disputed that a directors treatment template doesn’t have a personality. In fact, the good ones somehow manage to say, “Strap in—this ride’s going somewhere wild.” And isn’t that just what narrative is about?