A short time ago, for the sake of my own self-education, I began an in-depth study of a particular film using the “Start/Stop” technique promoted by UCLA screenwriting professor William Froug in his book Zen and the Art of Screenwriting (Silman St. James Press, 1996). I had used this technique to study a couple of films before now, but this time I spent far more time and energy, went far deeper into the text, and gave far more attention to how and why the film's story fucntioned than Froug possibly ever intended. After several months analyzing 207 individual scenes, I had 81 pages of single-spaced, type-written notes. I then condensed that into 23 pages of hand-written notes.
You may be surprised to learn that the subject of my study was not a revered “art film”, or one of the hailed modern “masterpieces” of cinema, but 1988's Die Hard, (screenplay by Jeb Stuart and Steven de Souza, directed by John McTiernan). What drew me to study Die Hard was its tightly structured plot and its endless ability to create mystery, surprise, and suspense – plus, the fact that, more than 20 years later, all of the film's hundreds of imitators have failed to match the quality of the original. I now know why. Die Hard is a top-notch article of screencraft written by a set of artists who KNOW how to construct an audience-centered story experience. I probably learned more from watching this movie than from my final year of film school. What follows are some of the highlights of my education:
PART 1: BAD GUYS NEED LOVE TOO
A staple of the action genre, an absolutely necessary component which makes an action movie an action movie is the BAD GUY. The Villain. A pure embodiment of antagonism, unconditionally dedicated to stop at nothing to destroy the hero.
The worth of a story's hero is based on the significance of the hero's actions. To follow that, the significance of the hero's actions all depends upon the force of antagonism opposing the hero. A hero's victory means nothing if it is easy to come by. Therefore, by simple logic, the stronger the antagonist, the stronger the story experience, especially in the action genre. The actions of the antagonist are what start the story and propel the hero into action. Also, the continued pressure from the antagonist provides the force that pushes the story forward to a climax.
Yet sadly, in many unsatisfying action movies, the antagonist is the weakest link. I have seen so many cartoonish antagonists that are flat, cardboard little men who seem to do nothing more than scowl, laugh manically, intimidate others, or just generally loiter about being “evil.” Many action villains seem to exist for no reason other than to wait around until the hero to finally manages to kill them.
A great antagonist should be an equal to the protagonist. He is in fact a second protagonist- a protagonist gone wrong, your hero's evil twin. The villain deserves – even demands – equal attention from the writer. The hero and villain must be evenly matched, with each developed with as much care and attention as the other. This principle shines clear and bright in one of moviedom's best villains, Mr. Hans Gruber.
1. THE ANTAGONIST SPINE
As briefly mentioned in my October article on the Story Spine, it is not enough for only the protagonist to follow the course of a well-planned character spine. All important characters should follow spines of their own, including the antagonist. The only way to turn an action villain from a stagnant cartoonish fiend to an exciting, unstoppable force is to give the antagonist an ANTAGONIST SPINE just as strong as the protagonist's spine.
The protagonist of Die Hard is NYPD officer John McClane (Bruce Willis). McClane's spine is clear.
His PROBLEM: He and his wife Holly are trapped in a building that has been seized by terrorists. His GOAL: To get Holly and himself out of the building alive. His PATH OF ACTION: McClane takes various actions in pursuit of this goal: first to get the attention of the police, and then to keep the incompetence of the LAPD and FBI from killing them all. His CONFLICT: Hans Gruber and his dozen gun-wielding henchmen wish to kill him and all the hostages. His STAKES: His and Holly's life.
Now, let's flip the script. Let's look at this movie as if Hans Gruber were the protagonist. What is Hans's Story Spine?
Hans's GOAL: To steal the money from the building's vault and escape scott-free. Han's PROBLEM: Achieving this is a nearly impossible task. Hans's PLAN OF ACTION: Carry out an intricately-planned series of actions to get into the vault and escape fromt under the authorities' noses. Hans's CONFLICT: Officer John McClane, a “poisoned pill in the works,” is running free in the building, actively working to wreck his plans. Hans's STAKES: On the up side, he can escape with hundreds of millions of dollars. On the down side, imprisonment or death.
John McClane and Hans possess completely separate spines aimed at separate goals, but the situation forces these goals into conflict. All John wants is get out of the building alive with his wife. Unfortunately, Hans can't achieve his goal if that should happen. The plot of Die Hard plays out as two main characters in constant pursuit of conflicting spines, constantly responding to the actions of their opposite as they impinge upon the pursuit of their own goal. With only a little re-writing, this script could be completely reversed, with Hans as the protagonist and John as the antagonist, and the plot would still work.
Not only does Hans have his own spine, he possesses his own three-act plot structure, complete with turning points. These three acts and their associated turning points are not the same as the plot structure of the main story. Those belong to the main Story Spine- (the protagonist's spine). THAT structure belongs to John McClane. Han's spine has its own structure with turning points relating to Hans' pursuit of HIS goal.
Let's take a look at the story structure as it belongs to John McClane and compare it to the story events relating to Hans's spine.
Main Plot Structure (the Protagonist Spine)
John's entrance to the story: John's airplane lands at LAX (Scene 1, 0:00:01)
Inciting Incident - (the moment when the direct conflict first appears to force the protagonist to take action): Terrorists invade the Nakatomi building. ( Scene 19, 0:21:00)
First Act Turning Point: John watches Hans execute Mr. Takagi. John now understands that these men are willing to kill and he is the only one who can stop them. (Scene 35, 0:31:30)
Midpoint: John achieves his immediate goal- he finally gets the attention of the police by throwing a dead body onto Officer Powell's police car. (Scene 91, 00:58:00)
Second Act Turning Point: John discovers the explosives on the roof. (Scene 166, 1:46:15)
Climax: John saves Holly by causing Hans to fall to his death (Scene 201, 2:02:15)
Hans' Plot Structure (the Antagonist Spine)
Hans' entrance to the story: A truck carrying Hans travels towards the Nakatomi building. (Scene 17, 0:13:00)
Inciting Incident: John challenges Hans through message on a dead henchman. (Until now, things have gone as planned for Hans. This is the first moment that Hans learns of a direct force of antagonism standing in the way of his goal) (Scene 50, 0:40:00)
First Act Turning Point: Hans learns that John has stolen the detonators (something his plan cannot succeed without). (Scene 98, 0:56:30)
Midpoint: Hans gets the detonators back (he can now continue on with his plan). (Scene 149, 1:32:30)
Second Act Turning Point: Hans successfully opens the vault. (Scene 158, 1:41:00)
Climax: Hans fails to escape with the money. He is defeated by John and falls to his death. (Scene 202, 2:02:50)
Since Hans entered the story seventeen minutes late, each of his turning points have been displaced time-wise from the main plot's turning points by approximately that same amount – but, the turning points continue to occur at the same interval as those of the main plot (apx. 15 minutes between Hans's inciting incident and his first turning point, apx. 30 minutes between his first turning point and midpoint, and so on). The structure of both spines starts to move closer and closer to each other as the story progresses, until they ultimately meet at the climax where both spines are resolved, one in victory, the other in defeat.
2. EMPATHY & AFFECTION: WE'RE ALWAYS HURT BY THE ONES WE LOVE
Which would hurt you more? A betrayal by someone you hate, or by someone you love and respect? Which would be more unexpected?
Let's take a look at the stereotypical one-dimensional villains often found in cartoons, comic books, and bad action movies. These guys are 100% bad. And they never miss a chance to prove it. Every moment, pushing it over the top; snarling, yelling, wringing their hands in twisted glee, berating their allies, threatening the innocent, constant acts of cruelty and immorality. Then, let's say this villain decides to kill a man in cold blood. Well, this doesn't have much impact on the audience, does it? Why? Because the audience expects it! They have seen nothing from the villain except villainy, so killing a man is just another drop in the bucket. It is normal. It is boring. If the writer wants to surprise the audience, the writer should make the villain do something nice. However, this murder, no matter how gruesome will fall flat because the audience has become desensitized. These villains aren't scary. They're dull.
Now, let's look at Hans Gruber. Sure, Hans is as cruel and black-hearted as any other villain. But, damned if we aren't given enough good reasons to like him in spite of it! Hans is witty, sophisticated, urbane, well-spoken, confident, and brilliant. He would be a fascinating individual to meet in real life. Even if one doesn't like Hans, they must admit that they at least admire him. Even if one doesn't want to be his friend, they would at least want to remain within earshot of him at a party.
There is a sequence soon after Han's first appearance where Hans and his men take Mr. Takagi, the boss of the Nakatomi Corporation, to the executive conference room to ask for the vault's code. We learn a good deal about Hans on the way. Hans shows his sophisticated tastes by recognizing the designer of Takagi's suit. He reveals a high level of education by quoting Plutarch. He never yells, pushes, or threatens Mr. Takagi in a typically criminal manner. Instead, he is nothing but polite and respectful.
Then, he blows Takagi's brains out.
It is a shocking moment. Why? The audience does not expect it. They have been led to see Hans as a charming, rational man. The audience has been led to admire him. And then Hans stabs them in the back.
But, just like anyone who has fallen in love with the wrong person, the audience is led back to finding things to like about Hans. He charms us with his wit, impresses us with his genius, gains our respect by how he deals with Holly, shows far more restraint and good judgment in contrast with the one-tracked brutality his righthand man Karl. He's not an evil man, just a thief trying to do his job.
Then, he orders a pair of policeman to be burnt alive.
“Why, Hans, why?” asks the audience. “We thought you were our friend!” Even John McClane is shocked by how black-hearted the formerly reasonable Hans is revealed to be. It stings more because the audience has been allowed to like him. We can't believe that someone we like so much could do something so terrible. To make a great antagonist, the antagonist must become your audience's friend. Then let him stab the audience in the back!
Die Hard goes so far as to not only allow the audience to like their villain, but give the audience a few moments where they are encouraged to EMPATHIZE with him! At the 1 hour, 20 minute mark, Holly's coworker Ellis approaches Hans with a foolish proposal to help negotiate John's surrender. Ellis's character is, to put it bluntly, a jackass. He is easily the most contemptible character in the script. Pompous and arrogant, a soulless phony in every way-- someone you would hate to be stuck in a conversation with. Ellis chews the scenery in this scene, attempting to be charming, attempting to be clever and worldly – and failing miserably. Then we see Han's reaction. His tired, irritated reaction. In this scene, we the audience feel Han' pain. We know exactly what he is thinking. We have empathy for the antagonist. Sympathy for the devil. And we feel more connected to Hans as a result.
Then he shoots Ellis in the head.
3. PERSONALITY IS NOT A PRIVILEGE, IT IS A RIGHT
Whenever I see any low-grade action movie, movies such as Arnold Schwarzenegger's Commando, or nearly anything with Steven Seagal, there is always theobligatory third act sequence where the hero breaks into the villai
n's hideout and starts gunning down wave after wave of enemy gunmen. The same question hits me every time. Just who in the hell are all these people? Where did the villain possibly find so many poorly-trained morons who are willing to fight and die for someone so evil?
Time and time again, the most underserved characters in any action movie is not the villain, but the dozens of supporting characters who work for that villain. The henchmen, the cronies, hired goons, whatever you want to call them. They are usually given such labels because writers treat them as nothing but a collection of faceless extras, devoid of any name, personality, or significance. These characters exist for no reason other than to be slaughtered by the hero.
One thing I love about Die Hard, the one thing that sets its cast of characters apart from most action movies, is the way its creators made the effort to give EVERY character a personality. Nearly every one of Han' underlings has been given some little thing to make them unique. I don't mean just the important supporting henchmen like Karl or the clownish computer genius Theo, but nearly every one of the bad guys; from Karl's brother Tony to Theo's young assistant; is given a moment or two to show us who they are.
Now, it isn't necessary to do a full character development on every single supporting character. You don't need to waste the time to communicate every person's name, background, and childhood trauma. All that is needed is one small moment, pausing for one moment to give a TELLING ACTION that communicates something unique about the character. If the telling action is interesting enough, it can be all that is needed to let the audience's imagination fill in the rest.
I doubt anyone can remember the name of the blonde henchman tasked with impersonating the security guard in the front lobby, but he has been given a bunch of personality with his cowboy boots and friendly Texas accent. There's an Asian henchmen with a ponytail. We never hear his name, but we know he has a sweet tooth! The little moment where we see him snagging a free candy bar from a display case humanizes what would otherwise be a faceless goon. Early in the first act, Karl's brother Tony is meticulously cutting off each individual phone line one by one, paying great attention to detail-- and then, becomes incredibly annoyed when Karl cuts them all at once with a chainsaw. How much do we learn about these two brothers just by this one moment?
Actors always say “There are no small parts, only small actors.” This old saw applies to you the writer as well.
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