MY STORY CAN BEAT UP
YOUR STORY! Ten Ways to Toughen Up Your Screenplay FROM OPENING HOOK TO KNOCKOUT PUNCH
JEFFREY ALAN SCHECHTER
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � vii INTRODUCTION: Why Your Screenplay Needs to Be the Toughest Kid on the Block
And why being just as good isn’t good enough � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � xi 1. My Story Can Beat Up Your Story!
How to avoid the most common mistake o all ailed screenplays, a story that’s a ninety-seven-pound ninety-seven- pound weakling � � � � � � � � 1 2. My Theme Is Smarter Than Your Theme
The simple and potent way to understand what your story is really about � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 13 3. My Hero’s a Winner, Your Hero’s a Wiener!
Drive your story with a hero who’s not a zero by asking our questions � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 21 4. My Hero Fights, Your Hero Bites!
Keep your story moving with a hero that rockets through the same our archetypes that all great movie heroes share � � � � � � 39 5. Your Bad Guy Punches Like My Sister
Turn your hero’s worst nightmare into your story’s best riend by understanding the unity o opposites � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 49 6. My Hero Has Buds, Your Hero Has Duds
Know your hero, and your villain, by the company they keep � � � � 57 7. I Can Pitch, You Throw Like A Girl
The QuickPitch ormula, including the three most important words every good pitch must have � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 67 8. I Plot, You Plotz
Tell your story the way people expect, but fll it with plot twists they don’t � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 75
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9. I’m Not Afraid of the Dark
Meet the “Guide,” your story’s next best riend � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 99 10. I Work Smarter, You Work Harder — And Not in a Good Way!
The My Story Can Beat Up Your Story! tough writer’s business plan � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 113 CONCLUSION
Write now, right now... (and then write again, right away!) � � � � � 125 APPENDIX: Five Movies, All Beat Up � � � � � � � � � � �129 About the Author � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 163 Index of Films � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 167
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My Sto Stor ry Can Bea eat t Up Up You Your r Story! How
to avoid to avoid tHe most
common mistake of of all all failed screenplays, a story tHat ’s a ninety-seven-pound weakling
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know it’s hard to believe, but there was once a time when stories would kick sand in my ace. Sadly, these were my stories. I was such a weakling that my own stories could pants me and shove me into a locker, so I set out to discover, read, and learn everything I could ind about what makes a story good. One o the rst books I read was Writing Screenplays That Sell by Michael Hauge. In it, Mr. Hauge doesn’t say what a story is but rather what a story must do: “enable a sympathetic character to overcome a series o increasingly dicult, seemingly insurmountable obstacles and achieve a
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compelling desire.”1 Everything you are about to learn fows rom this prima acie sentence: who your hero is, who your villain is, what the nature o their goal is, and the scope o their mutually exclusive journeys. And it all builds rom this simple description o story. The most intriguing and inormative part o what Mr. Hauge said is what he didn’t say about story. Imagine or a moment that he said your story had to “enable a character to overcome obstacles and achieve a desire.” Character, obstacles, desire. That’s clean and simple. It’s also wrong. Your story isn’t about a character; it’s about a sympathetic character. Those aren’t obstacles; they’re a series o increasingly difcult, seemingly insurmountable obstacles. We all have desires, but that’s a compelling desire your hero is ater. A need, not a want. Understanding this is crucial. What’s the enduring image that comes to mind when you think about Casablanca : the letters o transit or Humphrey Bogart’s character, Rick, making puppy eyes at Ingrid Bergman? Puppy eyes! How about the enduring image when you think about Titanic: the ship or Jack and Rose? People don’t care about letters o transit or ships. Those are things. People care about people. When we watch movies, we rst care about the heroes. They’re our tour guides into the world o the story. Do we like them? Are we like them? Do we want to spend the next 108 minutes o our lives with them? Once we’re onside with the hero, it naturally fows that next we care about what the hero cares about: his or her wants, needs, and deepest, most heartelt desires. Finally, we care about how dicult it will be or the hero to achieve those wants, needs, and desires. How dragged through the mud — literally and emotionally — will the hero be in pursuit o these compelling desires? One simple denition, but it’s the spring rom which everything fows.
MY STORY DEVELOPMENT DEVELOPME NT CAN BEAT BEAT UP YOUR STORY DEVELOPMENT! O course, what good is having a whole bunch o good story-building techniques i the underlying story you’re applying it to, uh, stinks? I can’t imagine anything worse or your career than spending three, 1 Michael Hauge, Writin Writing g Screenplays That Sell (New York: Harper Collins, 1991), 4. 2
My Story Can Beat Up Your Story!
six, twelve, or more months o your lie writing something that never has a chance o selling rom the very start. Stinky stories come in a variety o ragrances: Some reek rom being boring. Others have the stench o amiliarity. Still others suer rom the overpowering odor o unmarketability. Whatever the source o the stink, the result is the same: a screenplay that does nothing to advance your career. I know... I know... what about all those bad movies that get made? The reality is that nobody sets out to make a bad movie. The other reality is that movies get made or all sorts o reasons, not all o them having to do with quality. Remember the movie Down Periscope? Neither do I. Very ew people do. But Paramount Pictures wanted Kelsey Grammer to do another season o Frasier, and he wanted to make this movie, so quicker than you can say, “What the hell’s that movie Paramount let Kelsey Grammer make so they could have another season o Frasier?” Down Periscope gets a green light. And too bad or you, because that will not be your trajectory. No studio is tripping over itsel to do you any avors. I you want your movie bought, you’re going to have to do it the old-ashioned way: by coming up with a good story and telling it well. Being lazy, I’ve managed to distill the main components o a storydevelopment game plan down to two parts.
PART 1: GET AN A N IDEA ID EA I’m guessing that i you’re reading this book, you already have at least one idea or a movie. Hopeully you have more. I you want a career, you need to be an idea generator. And don’t just come up with ideas when you need something to write; come up with them all the time and save them. Ideas are lurking everywhere. Newspapers, magazine articles, fights o ancy, things that happen to you, comments said in passing: Once you make being on the lookout or story ideas an active part o your lie, you’ll be lthy in them. The writer James V. Hart used to play a game called “What i?” with his kids around the dinner table. One o his kids asked, “What i Peter Pan grew up?” The answer turned into the Spielberg movie, Hook.
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Once I was speaking to my wie (we do that, occasionally), when she mentioned that a recently divorced riend o ours was getting remarried... or the third time! I commented that i I were husband number three, I’d want to meet husbands one and two. I mean, since women are oten attracted to the same kind o guy and she already let two o them, i husband number three was exactly like husbands one and two, what chance would he have? I immediately realized that this was a concept or a screenplay. Two months later, I nished the script. Two months later, ABC optioned it. A ew years ago I read a Time magazine article about teen courts in high school. As I write this I am sitting on the set o the series I co-created based on that magazine article. We’re in our third season. Writers get ideas. Working writers nd ideas. Everywhere.
PART 2: FIGURE OUT IF THE IDEA IS WORTH WORTH DEVELOPING D EVELOPING Once you have an idea in hand, you next have to gure out i it’s worth developing. You’re going to be living with this thing or the next big chunk o your lie; you better make sure it’s good company. How will you know? All good ideas share several qualities: wish ulllment, emotional dimension, business smarts, and originality. Good stories give the audience a chance to ulfll a vibrant wish o some kind. Who wouldn’t want to have super powers or the greatest romance in the world? How about living the adventure o a lietime, or being the hero who saves the world? Hollywood is called the dream actory as much or the hopes o the people wanting to get into the business as or the dreams its stories inspire in the rest o us. Messrs. Spielberg, Katzenberg, and Geen didn’t call their company DreamWorks because they like napping. Beyond wish ulllment, a good story should oer a fully dimensional emotional experience. Comedies without heart all fat. Dramas without the occasional smile are dreary. And i you have an idea that oers the chance or thrills, laughs, and tears? You’re golden! You need to spend time working on ideas that will re up as many dierent emotions in your audience as possible. Remember Sheri Brody making the joke about shoveling chum — BIG LAUGH! — a mere moment beore the shark popped out o the water — BIG YIKES?
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That’s a movie moment o legend. What would you give to come up with something like that? Beore you get into bed with an idea, you also have to ask i it’s marketable . I you desperately want to make a silent movie, in black and white, with a our-hour-plus running time, you had better be a beret-wearing, lterless cigarette-smoking, independently nanced European auteur with several million riends all willing to see your movie and pay ull price. As much as we may grouse about the commercialization o art, moviemaking is a business and so is screenwriting. Write something that eels like a product people want to buy. No agent will be willing to get involved in your career i he or she eels that you’re writing stu nobody wants. Ater you’re successul, then go make your artistic art somewhere. Next, thanks to the Internet, researching how original your idea is is as simple as ring up a search engine and typing in a ew keywords: zombie+musical+western+Lithuanian+pirates. I you want people to buy your screenplay, you need to know that it isn’t like a dozen others currently in development. Why spend time writing your comedy about a bride with cold eet when every studio has two just like it meandering through the system? So, let’s say you’ve gotten your idea, it’s chock-a-block ull o wish ulllment, just thinking about it makes you laugh and cry at the same time, it’s something you and several million o your riends would pay good coin to see, and there’s absolutely nothing like it in development at the studios. Can you nally start running it through the My Story Can Beat Up Your Story! system? Yes! And it begins with that old standby, the three-act structure.
THE THREE-ACT STRUCTURE Boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl. Spaceship goes up, spaceship gets crippled, spaceship makes it back home. Cop catches criminal, criminal escapes cop, cop brings criminal back in. The three-act structure has been around since cavemen rst sat around campres and told stories to each other (“Og see mammoth, Og chase mammoth, Og kill mammoth.”) I see no reason to discard this handy convention, though I will happily make the distinction that one can divide the three-act structure into our equal parts, with act 2 taking up two o those parts. 5
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I know that there are a ew die-hards who maintain that screenplays should be 120 pages. Uh-uh. Not yours. Not rom now on. And you want to know why? Because you’re writing the script that gets bought, remember? The rst thing those decent, hardworking agents, producers, or studio executives I mentioned in the introduction do when they get a script to read is fip to the end to see how many pages it is. They see 108 pages and they think, “I can do 108 standing on my head!” They start reading your script, not with the sense o dread that 120 pages inspires, but a sense o hope. Not only that, but at the rough estimate o a minute per page, a 108-page script gives you just enough material or the average movie. There are many 90-minute movies that began lie as 120-plus-page scripts and had all the fu taken out in the cutting room. I remember when I started working on Dennis the Menace Strikes Again! and was given the screenplay rom the rst Dennis the Menace movie to use as a reerence. It was 144 pages long. One hundred and orty-our! Guess what the running time o Dennis the Menace is? Ninety-six minutes. With credits. There was a lot o fu in that script that never saw the light o day in the nished lm. I don’t know i it was all shot and then let on the cutting-room foor, but i it was, that means a ew million dollars were tossed in the InSinkErator. Your goal is to be as fu-less as possible. And despite a recent trend towards longer pictures, your scripts shouldn’t be one o them. Not at this point in your career. And i those two reasons aren’t enough, it simply takes less time to write 108 pages than to write 120. I it takes you six months to write 120 pages, writing 12 less pages saves you two weeks. Yes, I am that anal. So once more: three acts, with act 2 being the same length as act 1 and act 3 combined, all conspiring to run to 108 pages.
THE CENTRAL QUESTION One o the most important components o My Story Can Beat Up Your Story! is the “central question.” The central question is the 6
My Story Can Beat Up Your Story!
800-pound gorilla o story concepts, and a good central question helps guarantee that your screenplay doesn’t run out o gas in the middle. Once the central question is answered denitively yes or no, the movie’s over. It comes right at the end o act 1, and is actually the signpost that act 1 is done. Everything in act 1 fows to the central question and everything in acts 2 and 3 fows rom the central question. In reality, the central question is more accurately the central questions , in the plural, because a good central question has three parts. They’re never stated outright, but the three parts o a good central question are what’s on your audience’s minds as your story unolds, twists, turns, and resolves. In Star Wars the central question is “Will Luke destroy the Death Star, save the Princess, and become a Jedi like his ather?” Once each part o that question is answered either yes or no, the movie is over. In The Dark Knight the central question is “Will Batman deeat The Joker, get Rachel to love him, and nally be the hero?” Once those three parts are answered there is nothing more to say except “What a GREAT movie!”
THE THREE THR EE PARTS PARTS TO THE CENTRAL QUESTION The three parts o the central question are built on your hero’s goals in three areas o his or her lie: a physical goal, an emotional goal, and a spiritual goal.2 The physical goal is the main action o the hero, his or her most obvious mission in the story. It’s also the goal that aects the most people in the story; it means a lot to a lot o people. Luke’s physical goal in Star Wars is to destroy the Death Star, which means a lot to a lot o people — just ask the nice olks on Alderaan who got blown up because Luke and company didn’t deliver the plans to the rebels soon enough. I Luke doesn’t destroy the Death Star Star,, it’ll blow up more planets. Luke’s physical goal means a lot to billions and billions o people. The emotional goal is the objective that means a lot, but only to a ew people. It’s the goal that your hero and those around your hero eel in their hearts. To whom does it matter i Luke saves the 2 In his book, Screenplay: The Foundations o Screenwriting (New York: Dell Publishing, 1982), Syd Field talks similarly about separating your hero’s lie into three basic components: proessional, personal, and private. 7
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Princess? Well, it means a lot to the Princess, or sure. It also means a lot to Han Solo, Chewbacca, the droids, and Obi-Wan. However, saving the Princess does not mean a lot to the people on Tatooine; they’re too ar removed rom the situation to have an emotional connection to that particular mission. Plus, they have that pesky womp rat inestation to worry about. So the emotional goal is the hero’s objective, which directly impacts and drives the hero and the hero’s inner circle o riends and associates. Finally, your hero has a spiritual goal , whether he or she knows it or not. Something in your hero’s being is unullled: a private, inner quest. It’s the thing that does not mean a lot to a lot, or even hero . It’s the innermost ear or a lot to a ew. It means a lot to the hero. regret or ghost that the hero will deal with rom FADE IN to FADE OUT. I the hero had a shrink, this would be the hot topic o conversation while lying on the couch. Contrasting the physical goal to the spiritual goal, the physical goal is driven by something that has orced itsel on the hero’s lie in the present, and the spiritual goal is that thing with which the hero has been grappling or a long, long time. Luke’s spiritual issue is the death o his ather, and once he learns that Pops was a Jedi, Luke’s spiritual goal is to become a Jedi like his dad. So, in Star Wars, Wars, “Will Luke destroy the Death Star?” is his physical goal, “Will Luke save the Princess?” is his emotional goal, and “Will Luke become a Jedi like his ather?” is his spiritual goal. Taken all together, these physical, emotional, and spiritual goals become the central question o Star Wars. Sometimes, as in Star Wars, the ultimate answer to all three parts o the central question is yes. Yes, Luke destroys the Death Star! Yes, he saves the Princess! Yes, he became a Jedi like his ather! However, not every successul movie has such an upbeat ending. In The Dark Knight (“Will Batman deeat the Joker, will Bruce get Rachel to love him, and will he nally be the hero?”), the answers are a bit more complicated. Does Batman deeat The Joker? Yes. Does he get Rachel to love him? No, she not only rejects him, but she dies. Does Batman nally get to be the hero? Yes. However, he becomes the hero by allowing the citizens o Gotham to think that he’s the villain, so it’s a bittersweet yes. Even so, all three parts o the central question are answered denitively by the end.
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I’m a sucker or happy endings, as are most o the readers and studio muck-a-mucks you hope will buy your screenplay, screenplay, so you may want w ant to seriously consider answering all three parts o your central question as positively as possible. Does that mean you should only write movies that have a nal image o the hero riding o on a magic unicorn and trailing pixie dust? Not at all. Just know going in that i you write a movie in which all three parts o your central question are answered no, you may not get the reaction (or nancial reward) you’re hoping or.
TIMING THE ANSWERS TO THE CENTRAL QUESTION While the three parts o the central question can be answered one at a time as you race to the climax o act 3, oten the closer together you answer the parts the more satisying the story will be or the audience, particularly when all three are yes answers. And i you connect all three parts in ways the audience can’t anticipate, you’ve done something truly admirable and unique in your story. In Star Wars, Luke wants to save the Princess, which he can’t do unless he destroys the Death Star, which he can’t do unless he becomes a Jedi like his ather. And with one shot into an exhaust port, he accomplishes all three at the same time. In Jaws, Chie Brody will be accepted as a member o the Amity community only i he kills the shark, which he can do only i he
Roy Scheider takes aim at the central question o Jaws.
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conquers his ear ea r o the water wa ter.. It’s It’s no coincidence coincid ence that Brody’ Brod y’ss “Smile, you son-o-a....” rife shot takes place when he is straddling the mast o the sunken boat, right in the water, nose-to-nose with the shark. With one bullet he accomplishes all three goals, not to mention making enough sashimi to eed New England. Both o these lms are task-oriented, action-based stories, so it’s easier to crat a whiz-bang climax where all three parts o the central question collide. In other, more layered stories such as The Dark Knight and Forrest Gump, it’s actually better to dish out the resolutions at a more leisurely pace to allow the audience a chance to process the moments. In The Dark Knight , Batman ails to secure Rachel’s love because she is killed, so that’s a huge part o the central question that is answered no. That event happens just two-thirds o the way through the movie, leaving both the audience and Bruce Wayne a chance to live with that answer or almost another hour o movie time. Indeed, it’s this very no that drives the other two resolutions: Will Batman deeat the Joker and will he nally become the hero? Batman does deeat the Joker, and by being orced to kill Harvey Dent, he takes on both the mantle o hero and ugitive. Whether you’re able to tie the dierent parts o the central question together or not, just remember that once you answer all three parts o the central question, your story is over and all that’s let or your audience to do is to shake the popcorn o their laps and go home. CHAPTER 1 REVIEW
What must your story do? “Enable a sympathetic character to overcome a series o increasingly dicult, seemingly insurmountable obstacles and achieve a compelling desire” (Michael Hauge). Key words are sympathetic, increasingly difcult , seemingly insurmountable , and compelling .
What must yo you u do? Become a story generator. Write down every idea you get the moment you get it. Don’t wait or later because you might orget the idea by then. I you don’t have something to write it down with, send yoursel an email rom your cell phone, or even call yoursel and leave yoursel a message with the idea.
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3
Determine i your story is worth developing. Does it oer a strong wish ulllment? Emotional dimension? Is it marketsavvy? Original?
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Understand that three acts is our equal parts, with act 2 being twice as long as act 1 and act 3.
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You are aiming to write 108 killer pages. Longer is worse than shorter.
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Understand how to build your story’s central question with a hero who is connected to the story with a physical goal, an emotional goal, and a spiritual goal.
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I your story allows it, try to answer the three parts o the central question as closely together as possible.
CHAPTER 1 STORY BEATER EXERCISES
Think about an incident in your own lie: something challenging you went through that had a compelling goal. I the goal wouldn’t be compelling to an outside observer, what would you have to do to adjust it so that it was compelling? Would this same outside observer think you were sympathetic? I not, what sort o motivating actor would you have to invent to swing the observer over to your side o the story? Can you chart several increasingly dicult, seemingly insurmountable obstacles you had to overcome in the course o your story? I not and you needed to, how might you embellish the story to make the obstacles more intriguing? Congratulations! You just adapted an incident rom your own lie into a movie idea.
Play the My Story Can Beat Up Your Story! mix-and-match game: ■
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Go to http://www.mscbuys.com/mix-match/ and pick a description rom Box A such as “ugly, “creative,” “brave,” etc. Turn that word into the ultimate expression o that description: “ugliest,” “most creative,” “bravest.” Pick a proession rom Box B such as “astronaut,” “soccer coach,” “school teacher,” etc. Set the timer on your iPhone (o course you have an iPhone) or ve minutes.
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Without stopping to think, crank out a story idea or the “somethingest character” you just randomly invented. The “ugliest blacksmith” or the “most earul pilot.” ■ Do this two more times, with two more character combinations. ■ Congratulations again! You just developed three ideas in teen minutes. Take the true-lie incident rom the rst step and the three ideas rom the second, and try to give them all the ollowing elements: strong wish ulllment, emotional dimension, marketsavviness, and originality. Any that don’t hit all our points, take out behind the barn and Old Yeller ’em. O the ideas that survive, put the best one aside or later. You’re going to need it. ■
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My Theme Is Smarte Smart er Tha Than n Your The Theme me tHe
simple and simple and potent way
to understand wHat your story is really really about about
F
or the longest time, thinking about theme was one o those writing necessities that I knew I should care about more than I did but didn’t. I think I was traumatized by a discussion I had early in my career with a producer about the theme o a story we were developing. I’d tell him one thing; he’d counter with something else. Back and orth this went, and beore I knew it two weeks o my lie were gone and I hadn’t written a single word. Talking with him about theme was like trying to hit a moving target. We couldn’t even agree what theme was. And apparently we’re not alone.
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Everyone knows that the theme o The Ugly Duckling is “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” right? Only, is that the theme or is it the moral? Or maybe it’s both? Or maybe it’s neither and the theme is really “When you believe in yoursel, anything is possible.” Or maybe I should just pour mysel another scotch? Even our good riend, Proessor Wikipedia, is beuddled when it comes to theme, describing it as “a undamental component o ction,” but then devoting a paltry 140 words to describing it. Some undamental component! And yet, as tough writers we know that theme is something we should concern ourselves with. When I sit down to write, my goal is to stay nimble and not get bogged down in theory. Too much theory — like too much pizza, sun, or money — can lead to ruination and despair. But instead o ending up at, tanned, and rich, you will end up hamstrung by story inormation and unable to write. The My Story Can Beat Up Your Story! business plan demands that you tell stories as quickly as possible and then tell more stories, so I developed the ollowing thematic magic bullet, one that will give your scripts the complexity and layers they need without being a huge pain in the rump to understand. To me, the absolute minimum understanding o theme needed to tell a story is this: Heroes ask questions and villains make arguments.
QUESTIONS AND ARGUMENTS As I’ve learned around my house, voicing an opinion too strongly can get one into trouble, especially when that one is me. At the start o your story the same can be said or your hero. It’s not that your hero doesn’t start o having an opinion, but it generally lacks certainty and conviction. Luke doesn’t know i Obi-Wan’s idea about becoming a Jedi makes sense in the “modern” age in which they live (Star Wars). Sheri Brody isn’t sure that he and his amily will ever be accepted as part o Amity ( Jaws Jaws). Annie Reed isn’t sure that love is or even can be magical (Sleepless Seattle ). Jake Sully doesn’t know i the (Sleepless in Seattle). Na’vi are worthwhile as a people (Avatar). Your villain, on the other hand, does not suer rom a lack o conviction. Governor Tarkin knows that the Jedi are no more (Star (Star Wars ); Sam knows that the magic o love doesn’t happen twice ( Sleepless in Seattle); Quaritch knows that the Na’vi are useless 14
My Theme Is Smarter Than Your Theme
savages (Avatar ); and the shark in Jaws represents the argument that an outsider will never be accepted by the island o Amity! Put another way: The hero asks the thematic question, and the villain states the thematic argument. Ultimately, your hero and your audience discover that, as compelling as your villain’s argument may be, he or she is not only wrong, but it’s that wrong thinking which leads to the villain’s ultimate downall in act 3. In Star Wars the thematic question is “Which is more powerul, aith or technology?” Luke thinks he knows that technology is more powerul until Obi-Wan tells him about the Force. Now he’s not so sure, and Luke grapples with this quandary or the duration o the story. Governor Tarkin, on the other hand, has no such conusion. He is surrounded by technology. From the Death Star itsel to his hal-cyborg henchman, Darth Vader, Tarkin’s whole existence is an argument in avor o the power o technology over aith, as is evident rom this snarky comment Tarkin makes to Vader: “The Jedi are extinct, their ire has gone out o the universe. You, my riend, are all that’s let o their religion.” Vader, or all o his shortcomings, embodies a dierent thematic argument than Tarkin’s. Vader knows that aith is more powerul than technology, as he makes clear during the ollowing scene: Vader:
Don’t be too proud o this technological terror you’ve constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignicant next to the power o the Force. Imperial Goon:
Don’t try to righten us with your sorcerer’s ways, Lord Vader. Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes, or given you clairvoyance enough to nd the rebels’ hidden ortress…. (Vader gestures with his hand and the Imperial Goon starts to choke.) choke.) Vader:
I nd your lack o aith disturbing.
Yet or all o his choking o eeminate Imperial goons, Vader’s aith is on shaky ground, too. His own disturbing lack o aith is what destroyed him way back when in his ght against Obi-Wan in Star Wars: Episode III — Revenge o the Sith , and ultimately regaining his aith is what will redeem him at the end o Star Wars: Episode VI — Return o the Jedi . 15
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(Just a side note: Darth Vader is oten mistaken as the villain o Star Wars , but the real villain is Peter Cushing’s character, Governor Tarkin. The Death Star is Tarkin’s baby, not Vader’s. I he screws up, it will be Tarkin who will have to ace the Emperor, not Vader. Vader is just Tarkin’s goon.) In Sleepless in Seattle the thematic question is asked by Annie: “Can the magic o love happen to the same person twice?” Annie has heard Sam on the radio saying that a love like the one he had with his departed wie can never happen again. Annie isn’t so sure he’s right. Sam is actually the villain o Annie’s story because he carries the thematic argument that the magic o love CANNOT happen twice. Sam’s son Jonah believes that it can, and by the end o the movie, so does everyone. In Star Trek (2009) the thematic question is “Can you gain strength rom anger beore it destroys you?” Spock is driven to join Starfeet by the animosity he eels towards his ellow Vulcans who considered him impure. He has become who he is because o this anger, and he believes that he can remain unaected — uncompromised — by it. Nero, the Romulan commander, believes that anger can make you stronger and more ocused. You can’t have enough o the stu! Once Spock realizes that his anger makes him unworthy o commanding a starship, he steps aside in avor o Kirk. Nero never acknowledges that his anger has undone himsel and his crew: Nero :
I would rather suer the destruction o Romulus a thousand times than accept the help o a Federation starship! Kirk:
You got it.
Nero’s unwavering commitment to anger and revenge is his undoing. Spock’s willingness to give up his anger and replace it with logic is the rebirth o a ranchise!
THEME THEM E ACROSS THE ACTS Understanding how theme plays throughout your story can be easily charted by breaking it into our parts which line up with the our sections o acts 1, 2, and 3:
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My Theme Is Smarter Than Your Theme
Act 1: We see the thematic argument in action — we see the power and the impact o the villain’s thematic argument. Something has to push your hero to become a hero, and the thematic argument is the power behind the push. Look how mighty the Empire is, with all its fashy, blinky buttons! Look how shattered and broken Sam and Jonah are because o the loss o the magical love o their wie and mother! Look how erocious, unrelenting, and territorial the shark has become! As you write this part o your script, remember that this section is ultimately about the ull statement o the thematic argument. Act 2, rst part: We see the thematic question in action — it’s now your hero’s turn. As we’ll see in Chapter 4, your hero will be going on a journey, propelled out o his or her lie by the thematic argument. Your hero will now have to test the power o his or her convictions. Whatever the thematic question is that’s on your hero’s lips, he or she will start whispering it at the start o act 2 and be shouting it by the midpoint o the story. Act 2, second part: Thematic question versus thematic argument — the hero knows what he or she believes, the hero knows what the villain believes, and now it’s time or these two world views to clash like never beore. The hero is denitely leaning towards a thematic certainty, but this part o your script is the crucible. How ar is Brody willing to go in order to be accepted by the people o Amity Island in Jaws? How ar is Annie willing to go to discover i love is magic in Sleepless in Seattle ? And when they hit opposition, sometimes crushing opposition, how ar is your hero willing to bounce back? Act 3: The hero creates a thematic synthesis — your hero’s thematic journey comes to a close by achieving a deeper and more complete understanding o both the thematic question and the thematic argument by creating a synthesis between the two. It’s the thematic equivalent o asking, “Why can’t we all just get along?” 17
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Wars, which is stronger, aith or technology? Luke learns In Star Wars, that he needs both; he uses the Force (aith) to target an open exhaust port and then uses a photon torpedo (a big, glowy chunk o technology) to destroy the Death Star. Faith is stronger than technology only i they work together in harmony. In Jaws, is it true that one can never be accepted by the people who treat you as an outsider? No. Brody realizes that he can be accepted into a community only i he is willing to sacrice all or the community. community. In Sleepless in Seattle, Seattle , can the magic o love happen to the same person twice? Yes, but only i you’re willing to give yoursel over to it regardless o the consequences (aka, leaving aable Walter in order to maybe… maybe… nd your magical love at the top o the Empire State Building). In other words, thematic synthesis is the answer to the thematic question with the addition o a clause that begins “only i….”
Reall Rea lly? y? Is I s that it? There’s plenty more to be said about theme. There are rubrics to be learned, sub-themes to be amplied on, points to be made about tying theme to specic action, to where and when and why…. FORGET ALL OF THAT! What you’ve just been given is the minimum amount o thematic blather you need to get a good, solid, working rst drat o a screenplay. As you write, make sure that there is a clean thematic question rom your hero and a countering thematic argument rom your villain. These two viewpoints clash, and the hero synthesizes a unique view as a result. Done! Try to get any more complicated than that at this point in your story’s development and you may wake up one morning to discover that two weeks have gone by and you’re just as traumatized as a certain young writer I used to know. CHAPTER 2 REVIEW
Heroes ask questions. Villains make arguments.
Theme across the acts looks like this: ■ ■ ■ ■
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Act 1: Thematic argument in action Act 2, rst part: Thematic question in action Act 2, second part: Thematic question versus thematic argument Act 3: The hero’s creation o a thematic synthesis
My Theme Is Smarter Than Your Theme
CHAPTER 2 STORY BEATER EXERCISES
Go to http://www.mscbuys.com/theme-table/ and download the blank table.
In column 1, make a list o ve avorite movie heroes or heroines.
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In column 2, write their thematic question. Make sure you phrase it as a question.
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In column 3, write the corresponding villains rom those movies.
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In column 4, write the villain’s thematic argument. Make sure you phrase it like a statement.
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In column 5, write the thematic synthesis.
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Remember that idea you put aside in Chapter 1’s Story Beater Exercise? Take it out now, give your character a name, and put him or her at the bottom o the rst column, ater all the other heroes.
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In the next column over, write down what you think your hero’s thematic question is. Let’s say you picked “most cowardly soldier.” What would be a good thematic question or a cowardly soldier? A ew come to mind right away: “Is there ever a good time to ght versus run?” Another is “Can a coward ever become a hero?”
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Now imagine the absolute best person to challenge that question with a countering argument. Give that person a name and put him or her at the bottom o the list o villains.
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Write down your villain’s thematic argument. Playing o the two examples above, the argument might be “Never back down rom a ght, an any y ght!” Or “Once a coward, always a coward!” Who might this person be, relative to your cowardly soldier hero? A decorated war-hero parent? A spouse? A commanding ocer? Just pick one or now and make a note. You can always change this person later i you want.
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In the last column, write down the thematic synthesis o all the thematic questions and thematic arguments, including your own. Reerring to the example above, the thematic synthesis 19
My Story Can Beat Up Your Story!
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might be: “Sometimes backing away takes greater courage than ghting,” or “A coward can become a hero when he or she is willing to sacrice or others.” 2.
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Congratulations! You just crated both a workable hero and a villain based on theme… and we haven’t even talked about heroes and villains yet! Damn, you’re good.
