THE 9 CHARACTER ALIGNMENTS

(EDITOR'S NOTE, 4/2/2020: This is an old, out-of-date article, and really began as nothing more than a playful thought experiment, so it need not be taken 100% seriously. However, I have included a version of the "Nine Character Alignments" in my book Screenwriting & The Unified Theory of Narrative, Part II, under the chapter on protagonist psychology. There are, however, some significant differences. Instead of the ambiguous and easily-misinterpreted terms "Lawful/Neutral/Chaotic" my updated version uses "Collectivist/Pragmatist/Individualist." Likewise, I find the terms of the Good/Neutral/Evil axis to be equally misleading, and have replaced them with the more accurate "Benevolent/Neutral/Malevolent." I have added the alternate names for each alignment to the sections below.)

I usually do not present theories by other dramatists in this blog, but I have recently incorporated the concept of Character Alignment into my dramatic method, a concept I find helpful enough to pass on. The Nine Character Alignments is a development and analysis tool that defines any character (or any real human being, for that matter) by placing them in one of nine categories determined along two axes: Good vs. Evil, (how likely a character is to behave altruistically, versus how likely he or she is to cause others harm,) and Lawful vs. Chaotic, (the degree to which a character values and is willing to obey the structures of social order, opposed a libertarian view which values the freedom to do as one pleases regardless of law or structures).

These categories break down as follows:

The interesting thing is that this approach did not originate in dramatic theory. It came from, of all places, the role-playing board game Dungeons & Dragons. In these games, players create their own characters governed by specific moral and ethical guidelines. However, as evidenced by the examples below, it seems D&D's creators stumbled upon a very simple shorthand for typifying various stable categories of human social psychology, one that can be easily applied to dramatic storytelling to create characters audiences can quickly identify and understand.

This article provides only a basic overview of these alignments. For more comprehensive coverage, visit http://easydamus.com/alignment.html

(EDITOR'S NOTE ,3/29/13:

This article has gotten a lot of attention over the last couple days, so I have chosen to provide some clarifications based off of questions I have received.

First of all, these are not strict categories. They are fuzzy around the edges. Whether certain characters fit into one or the other is open to personal interpretation on your particular views of what constitutes good or evil or what you think qualifies as law-abiding or law-defying behavior. In other words, each person’s view of the nine alignments is ironically influenced by that person’s own personal alignment in real life.

Second, these alignments merely explain how characters see the world. That is, how they tend to judge situations through their own eyes. However, this point of view does not place strict limits on every action the person may take. A Good person may momentarily give into the temptation to take a morally-questionable action. A Chaotic person may from time to time concede to society’s laws as he or she struggles over the best means to overcome narrative conflicts. Yet in any case, it is the person’s personal view of the world – his or her alignment – that decides whether the character feels satisfied or guilty about the action in retrospect.

Third, Good/Evil and Lawful/Chaotic are two separate and independent factors in character psychology. To look at it in algebraic terms, one is “x” the other is “y.” Each combination of potential variables creates very different modes of thought and behavior. Part of the confusion is in the terms “Lawful” and “Chaotic.” Most people think of lawfulness = goodness, and chaos = badness. So instead, it is better to think of Lawful vs. Chaotic as “Collectivist vs. Individualistic.” A Lawful person sees a society as millions of people bound together as one. In order for that society to prosper, it is essential that everyone follows agreed-upon rules of behavior. Therefore, a Lawful Good character believes that it is of supreme importance to maintain and enforce the purity of these rules in order to bring about the greatest good. Anyone who operates outside the rules threatens the system with instability and should be punished. A Chaotic person, in complete contrast, sees themselves and others as absolutely independent individuals who should have the freedom to think or do as they see fit without any outside interference. Therefore, a Chaotic Good hero uses methods based not on what society says is proper, but their own personal judgments. When they fight for good, it is for the life, freedom, and happiness of individuals, not for abstract social constructs such as “morality” or “justice.” If this means they must blow up buildings or kill the wicked to achieve good, then so be it. 

To illustrate, think of a hypothetical conflict between two heroes, Superman and Batman (I know this has occurred a number of times in comics and other media, but I am not referring any specific story). Superman fights to uphold a utopian vision of society in which everyone follows a fair and moral system of rules. When he sees Batman circumventing the law and undermining social stability by playing by his own rules, Superman concludes Batman to be in the wrong. Batman, on the other hand, sees society as corrupt, inefficient, and incapable of delivering true justice. Since the social structures are inherently flawed, it is up to individuals to take personal action to right wrongs and help others as they see best. To Batman, Superman is a fool. A righteous society can only be maintained by the actions of free individuals unchecked by unnecessary "rules." Both characters are Good, but conflict with one another because they have very different ideas of what “good” means, and how to best achieve it.)

THE GOOD ALIGNMENTS

Characters in the morally good alignments (Lawful Good, Neutral Good, Chaotic Good) feel driven toward actions altruistic in nature. They see the world in terms of right and wrong, and believe it is their duty to do what they see as right. They will often go out of their way to help or defend others, even at personal cost. Characters in these categories can be easy defined as heroic.

LAWFUL GOOD (BENEVOLENT COLLECTIVIST)

The Lawful Good are the white knights, the Eagle Scouts, the real hero-heroes of the story world. They not only believe in doing what they consider morally right, but feel it necessary to uphold ideological concepts such as truth and justice, while at the same time preserving the sanctity of the law. Lawful Goods are moral idealists who believe the rule of law to be essential to the health and happiness of all. Therefore, those who defy the law must be punished. However, if the rule of society should become corrupted or grow to contradict its promoted ideals, the Lawful Good character will feel compelled to fight against social authorities to correct the system. Even in these cases, the Lawful Good will still prefer to fight from within a morally-approved system and will continue to follow rules in order to lead by example. The Lawful Good are honest and forthright, and will never intentionally harm another. It is only okay to harm another when this act cannot be avoided in order to protect oneself or others, or if necessary to protect the greater good, such as defending one's country in war. All in all, the Lawful Good live by the Golden Rule.

Examples:

Superman

Luke Skywalker - Star Wars

Maximus - Gladiator

Marge Gunderson – Fargo

Forrest Gump

Frodo Baggins – Lord of the Rings

Captain Miller (Tom Hanks) – Saving Private Ryan

NEUTRAL GOOD (BENEVOLENT PRAGMATIST)

The Neutral Good also wish to do what is good and proper, but are much more flexible in the methods they use to accomplish the greater good. While the Lawful Good believe in an abstract, idealized view of morality, the Neutral Good follow a more personal view of right and wrong. They do all they can to achieve what they think is right. They generally support society's laws, but unlike the Lawful Good, they are willing to bend or even break the rules if they see those rules as unjust, or if a greater and quicker good can be achieved by cutting corners. The Neutral Good will not harm the innocent, but will harm evildoers when the act is justified. They are honest and will keep their word, unless it is to an evildoer. All in all, the Neutral Good are pragmatic in their heroics, doing whatever needs to be done (within limits) in order to achieve the greatest good.

Examples:

Indiana Jones

Spider-man

John McClane – Die Hard

Rocky Balboa – Rocky

Po – Kung-Fu Panda

Jack Bauer – “24”

Dr. Malcolm Crowe (Bruce Willis) – The Sixth Sense

CHAOTIC GOOD (BENEVOLENT INDIVIDUALIST)

The Chaotic Good are rebellious heroes, often charismatic outsiders who see social structures as corrupt, incompetent, or immoral. They reject the strict rules externally imposed upon them and choose to work outside of the system to accomplish the greater good. They are often loners at odds with societal norms who value personal freedom above all other ideals, as opposed to the stability that comes from the strict rule of law. For the Chaotic Good, the ends justify the means -- meaning that these characters are more than willing to break the law to protect the innocent or provide the greatest benefit to mankind. Despite their lawlessness, the Chaotic Good act by strict personal moral codes. They will not harm the innocent and will act out of self-defense, but are much more willing to attack evildoers without warning if justified.

Examples:

Batman/Bruce Wayne

Robin Hood

Neo – The Matrix

Tony Stark – Iron Man

T.E. Lawrence – Lawrence of Arabia

THE NEUTRAL ALIGNMENTS

Characters in neutral alignments, (Lawful Neutral, True Neutral, and Chaotic Neutral) tend to see themselves as decent persons, but will generally not go out of their way or take any personal risk to promote the greater good. They are more concerned with themselves and their personal lives than society as a whole. Stories with neutral protagonists may have main characters who are morally ambiguous, morally conflicted, self-concerned, or “everyday” men and women struggling with the wants and needs of daily life.

LAWFUL NEUTRAL (NEUTRAL COLLECTIVIST)

The Lawful Neutral are not concerned as much with Good or Evil, but with Right and Wrong. They believe a strong society requires strong rules, and those rules must be followed to ensure stability and well-being. Lawful Neutrals tend to see the world in black-and-white. If something is legal, it is okay. If it is illegal, it is bad and should be avoided. The Lawful Neutral believe that rules should be enforced universally and will generally not care about the ethical gray areas enforcement may create. Lawful Neutrals tend to be self-disciplined and gravitate towards areas of civic responsibility or authority. They fit in well with society and tend to be loyal and honest. However, the Lawful Neutral will rarely take any extra effort or risk to improve society's well-being if it means personal discomfort -- especially if these actions may disrupt stability. The Lawful Neutral will not harm the innocent, but are willing to take morally-ambiguous actions against supposed evildoers if it is for the benefit of social order.

Examples:

Jake Gittes – Chinatown

Dwight Shrute - “The Office”

Ripley – Alien

Salieri (F. Murray Abraham) – Amadeus

Woody – Toy Story

Mr. McAllister (Matthew Broderick) – Election

TRUE NEUTRAL (NEUTRAL PRAGMATIST)

True Neutrals are chiefly concerned with what is best for themselves at the particular moment. Their decisions are based mostly upon self-preservation and the desire to bring happiness to their own lives. Though they may be sympathetic to the less fortunate, they have no strong desire to do good for others, nor to do others harm. Nor do they have strong feelings about law and order. Instead, they simply accept the law as long as it does not interfere with their daily lives. Most people encountered in real life are true neutrals, going through life mostly concerned with personal issues. Most True Neutrals see themselves as good persons, and will act ethically in most situations, but only because they believe ethical actions will benefit them more than unethical. True Neutrals are also highly law-abiding, but their obedience comes from fear of punishment rather than any ideological belief. Despite this, True Neutrals are prone to temptation. If they can gain from breaking a law and believe they can escape punishment, True Neutrals will be tempted to do so. True Neutrals believe in moral reciprocity: Do unto others as they have done unto you.

Examples:

Rick Blaine – Casablanca

Marlin – Finding Nemo

Ben Stone (Seth Rogan) – Knocked Up

Peter Gibbons (Ron Livingston) – Office Space

Miles (Paul Giamatti) – Sideways

"Jack" (Edward Norton) – Fight Club

CHAOTIC NEUTRAL (NEUTRAL INDIVIDUALIST)

Chaotic Neutrals care for their personal freedom above all else. Like the Chaotic Good, Chaotic Neutrals see themselves as rebels or outsiders. But, unlike Chaotic Good, they are motivated only by self-interest. Chaotic Neutrals are the centers of their own world. They have little to no respect for authority, and will defy the law if they believe the benefit will outweigh the punishment. It is difficult for Chaotic Neutrals to trust others and may not keep their word. They often have a disrupting influence on their environment. However, morality and ethical behavior are not uncommon. Chaotic Neutrals will often feel torn between their desire for personal freedom and the needs of those they care about. Like True Neutrals, Chaotic Neutrals follow moral reciprocity. They are good to those who are good to them. A Chaotic Neutral may harm an innocent person, but will feel remorse. In contrast, they feel no remorse for harming those they consider enemies.

Examples:

Tyler Durden – Fight Club

Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow – Bonnie & Clyde

Will Hunting – Good Will Hunting

Homer Simpson - “The Simpsons”

Renton – Trainspotting

Ferris Bueller – Ferris Bueller's Day Off

THE EVIL ALIGNMENTS

Evil alignments (Lawful Evil, Neutral Evil, and Chaotic Evil) are ready and willing to harm others to achieve personal gain. Unlike the neutral alignments, there is no debate other whether an act is ethical or unethical, nor is there remorse after the act is committed. Though not all antagonists fall into evil alignments, it is near-impossible for a hero to successfully occupy these categories since a morally-inclined audience cannot bring themselves to anchor their affections to a person of such unethical behavior.

LAWFUL EVIL (MALEVOLENT COLLECTIVIST)

Most world dictators can be considered Lawful Evil. The Lawful Evil generally seek to achieve and hold onto positions of power, wealth, and authority, and will do whatever it takes to do so. The Lawful Evil operate by rules, generally believing in the value of order and stability, but are motivated solely by personal gain. In fact, they will often use the law as a tool of ruthless ambition. Ironically, the Lawful Evil typically see themselves as good persons. They often think of themselves as acting for the betterment of society. Only, to make an omelet, they must break some eggs. And this is how the Lawful Evil see the innocents crushed in their wake -- as mere broken eggs, acceptable losses necessary to achieve an ultimate end. At their worst, Lawful Evil have little compunction against killing when necessary, but will generally not do the killing themselves (or will at least keep it quick and painless). Despite this, the Lawful Evil are the most ethical of villains. They follow a personal code of honor and will generally keep their word. Though the Lawful Evil commit unethical actions, they always justify those actions with a logic that makes them appear necessary.

Examples:

Darth Vader – Star Wars

Magneto – X-Men

Mr. Burns - “The Simpsons”

Hank Quinlan (Orson Welles) – Touch of Evil

Bill Lumbergh (Gary Cole) – Office Space

Agent Smith – The Matrix

NEUTRAL EVIL (MALEVOLENT PRAGMATIST)

This is the alignment of most career criminals. Neutral Evils do whatever they can get away with. They are concerned solely with self-gain and do not care if they must break laws or harm innocent people to get what they want. They see the world divided into two camps: the smart and the suckers. Suckers follow the law. The smart do whatever they can get away with. Like the Neutral Good, the Neutral Evil are very pragmatic in their actions. They do whatever seems the smartest at the time. They will rarely commit evil simply for the sake of evil, and will not take foolish risks that have a high chance of capture. They form and betray alliances as it suits them. They keep and break their word as convenient. They will do whatever it takes to get ahead. The Neutral Evil will harm the innocent, and may do so for pleasure. The Neutral Evil may also help others if there is a personal benefit. Unlike the Lawful Evil, the Neutral Evil are indifferent to concepts like honor or discipline, and will use such ideals only when self-serving.

Examples:

Hans Gruber – Die Hard

Virgil Sollozzo – The Godfather

Biff Tannen – Back to the Future

Lord Farquar – Shrek

Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson) – The Departed

Lex Luthor – The Superman franchise

CHAOTIC EVIL (MALEVOLENT INDIVIDUALIST)

These characters are the worst of the worst. The Chaotic Evil will cut a path of death and destruction after whatever their greed, lust, or wrath desires with no regard for either the rule of law or the welfare of others. Assuredly psychopathic in nature, the Chaotic Evil are incapable of feeling sympathy for others. Nor do they wish to, since they see others as mere playthings and pawns to fulfill their desires. At their worst, the Chaotic Evil will kill readily and will often do so for enjoyment. They think of themselves as above both law and morality, and believe anyone who follows either is a sap. They see the world as being made up of sheep and wolves. Those who have the power to take what they want should do so, and not feel the slightest twinge of conscience.

Examples:

The Joker – The Dark Knight

Amon Goeth (Ralph Fiennes) – Schindler's List

Norma Desmond – Sunset Boulevard

The T-800 Cyborg (and T1000 in the sequel) – The Terminator

Hannibal Lecter – Silence of the Lambs

Jason Vorhees – Friday the 13th

CHARACTER ALIGNMENT AND CHARACTER ARC

Some characters will shift their alignment as their character arcs progress. Not all characters will shift. Only those whose arc deals with a trait relating to Good vs. Evil or Lawfulness vs. Chaos. Characters may move -

Up: Oskar Schindler in Schindler's List (Lawful Evil to Lawful Good)

Down: Charles Foster Kane in Citizen Kane (Chaotic Good to Chaotic Neutral)

or, Sideways: Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey) in American Beauty (Lawful Neutral to Chaotic Neutral)

I have yet to see a character shift diagonally, such as from Chaotic Neutral to Neutral Good. Such a move may be impossible. Perhaps this is because the cinematic form demands simplicity in character arcs, meaning only one major trait transforms over the course of the story. A diagonal move would require a character to change both in his or her capacity for good/evil, as well as his or her views of law/chaos. It seems such a move would require two separate character arcs, which would end up muddying and confusing the story.

Inciting Incident Ignorance

This month's article was originally inspired by a thread I encountered on a popular screenwriters' message board (which shall remain nameless) a few months back. The topic started simply enough, with one user asking for someone to identify the inciting incident of one of the most popular and widely-seen movies of all time, Star Wars. It seemed to be a question that needed only one or two responses from a knowledgeable reader and that be it. But instead, the thread stretched on for well over TEN PAGES. The mind-boggling thing was that most of the answers were absolutely wrong. Every moment found over the first half of the movie, from its opening shot to actions that occur an hour into the film, was brought forward by one user or another as the definite inciting incident. The fact that there can be such widespread confusion over a concept so fundamental to cinematic narrative structure shines a light on why so many spec scripts are so poorly put together.

I put the blame once again on the glut of screenwriting books on the market, and the confusing array of inaccurate information they have spilled across the writing community for the last dozen years. Most aspiring writers assume that just because a book has been published, the author must be an expert and his or her information is accurate. This is often not the case. Since so many books lead readers in contradictory or inaccurate directions on something as fundamental as the inciting incident, I must once again assert that most of the books on the market do the screenwriting community more harm than good.

In this article I intend to clear the confusion by laying out once and for all exactly what the “inciting incident” is, what it does, and where is should occur.

WHAT IS THE INCITING INCIDENT?

Let's start by reviewing the basics:

1. A STORY is defined as “a structured series of events about a character dealing with a PROBLEM, unified by a premise.” -- For the purposes of this article, the most important part of this definition is the problem. All stories, at their simplest levels, revolve around characters struggling with, and trying to overcome a particular story problem.
   
   
2. Cinematic stories carry out their narratives through a structure known as the STORY SPINE. The Story Spine is composed of five elements: a. the Story Problem, b. the main character's Story Goal that once achieved, will overcome the problem, c. the Path of Actions the character takes to reach that goal, d. the Main Conflict that opposes the character's efforts, and e. the Stakes that force the character to continue pursuing that goal despite the conflict's resistance. -- Everything in a well-written cinematic story relates to these five elements. If a story does not contain a spine with all five elements, it will be incomplete and will fail in its execution.

Until a Story Spine has been established, the story has yet to properly begin. The narrative cannot advance because there is not yet any clear direction for it to go. The drama is still in the runner's blocks, waiting for the starter's pistol. Until the spine is established, the cinematic story is still in its setup sequence. The setup sequence is like setting up the pieces on a chess board before play begins. Piece are being put here or there, but the conflict of the game has not yet begun. The inciting incident is the moment play begins. It is the starter's pistol that leaps the story off its blocks and sends it on its path towards the finish line.

The inciting incident is defined as the moment when the Story Problem invades the protagonist's life in such as way that it forces the protagonist to do something about it. From this point on, every story event centers on the protagonist's attempts to overcome the problem. The inciting incident officially starts the story by setting up the Story Spine and its five elements. The Story Problem presents itself to the protagonist. Because of this, the protagonist forms an idea of what kind of Story Goal he or she must pursue, and what is at Stake should he or she fail. The protagonist then decides what first steps must be taken down his or her Path of Action. These actions then incite the Main Conflict to create resistance.

The inciting incident has not occurred until the story has reached a point where at least some aspect of ALL five elements of the Story Spine have been established. This is likely the source of much of the confusion over what moment officially constitutes a certain film's inciting incident. In some stories, an event establishes all five elements of the Spine in an immediate and simultaneous manner. In others, there can be a slight delay between the establishment of the Problem, the Goal, the first step of the Path of Action, etc... This leads to our second question:

HOW DO WE KNOW WHEN THE INCITING INCIDENT HAS OCCURRED?

The inciting incident has not occurred until three qualifications have been met:

1. The Story Problem exists.
2. The protagonist becomes aware of the Story Problem.
3. The protagonist decides to do something about that Story Problem.

1. The Story Problem exists.

Given the definition of “story” presented previously, it goes without saying that a storyline cannot begin to form until a problem arises. Before this happens, the narrative is just a bunch of people carrying on with their daily lives. However, there are many films where the Story Problem presents itself immediately. Sometimes it arises in the first scene, sometimes it already exists or has existed for some time. But this does not mean that the inciting incident has already occurred.

The Story Problem of Star Wars is that the galaxy is ruled by an evil empire -- an empire on the verge of crushing a virtuous rebel army representing the good people's only hope for freedom. But the moment the audience learns this information is not the story's inciting incident. Neither is the moment when Darth Vader captures Princess Leia. We then understand that Princess Leia has given R2D2 a secret mission and launched R2 and C3P0 to Tatooine, where they promptly get lost. But this is not the inciting incident either. Why? Because neither Princess Leia nor R2D2 are the story's protagonist. The Story Spine is all about the direct opposition between the protagonist and the Story Problem/Main Conflict. The protagonist of Star Wars is Luke Skywalker. Luke Skywalker has not even appeared on screen yet. This means that all these events are simply part of the setup.

2. The protagonist becomes aware of the Story Problem.

Finally, Luke Skywalker enters the narrative when his Uncle Owen purchases the Princess's two lost droids. Though part of the Problem has now entered Luke's life, this still is not the inciting incident. Luke remains completely unaware that a problem exists or that his life has changed in any way.

But once the protagonist becomes aware of a problem, this still does not mean the inciting incident has occurred. I am personally currently aware of many dramatic problems. I am aware of the national debt crisis. I am aware of the cartel wars killing thousands in Mexico. I am aware of the civil uprising in Syria. But this by no means suggests that I am currently engaged in a dramatic struggle to fix any of these problems. Even though I am aware of these problems, I continue on as usual because these problems have not yet impacted the status quo of my life in a way that motivates me to take action. This is the same situation which exists for a protagonist at this stage.

To give an example, Lester Burnham begins American Beauty with his Story Problem already in place. His problem is that his life; with his family, his work, and his view of his own value; is unacceptable to him. From the opening moments, we understand that Lester is painfully aware of his problem. But this does not mean the inciting incident has occurred. Lester has yet to chosen to take action against the problem. Instead, he just mopes through this status quo, suffering under the problem's weight. His story adventure does not begin until the moment when:

3. The protagonist decides to do something about the problem.

American Beauty does not reach its inciting incident until the moment Lester first lays eyes his daughter's friend Angela. The lust he feels causes an “awakening” which motivates Lester to finally take action to create change in his life. From this point onward, Lester no longer simply accepts the Story Problem. He takes action after action in pursuit of a Story Goal.

It is important to note that the inciting incident occurs at the moment the protagonist decides to take action against the problem. Whether or not the protagonist takes physical action at that very moment is inconsequential. It is the change in the protagonist's consciousness that is important. In many stories, the protagonist makes this decision, but does not immediately have a chance to act. His or her first actions toward the Story Goal may have to be slightly delayed due to the logic of the narrative. Yet still, the inciting incident has occurred. The protagonist has summon his/her will and is now ready to take action as soon as an opportunity arises.

Given these three qualifications, what is the real inciting incident of Star Wars?

After the droids are purchased by Uncle Owen, Luke is ordered to clean them. While performing this mundane task, Luke triggers a fragment of message recorded by Princess Leia asking help from Obi-Wan Kenobi. Luke is highly intrigued by this mysterious message. He can see that a problem exists (this woman seems in desperate trouble) and, due to his previously-established Rebel sympathies, Luke feels a strong desire to find out more about the message. This is the official inciting incident. Luke's desire to do something about the message leads him on the first step of his Path of Action (to find Obi-Wan Kenobi), which then leads him onward into every other event of the story.

Much of the confusion over the identity of Star Wars' inciting incident comes from the fact that, though Luke desires to take action to find Obi-Wan, he is not the character who actually makes the first move. Instead of Luke boldly hitting the road to find Obi-Wan, he is led to Obi-Wan indirectly when R2D2 runs away. This course of events turns out to be a necessity of character, not plot. Luke may want to take action, but as the story begins, he is not the type of person to be so bold. His desire to pursue the message is forbidden by Uncle Owen and Luke can do nothing to argue. In stories where the protagonist starts as passive or powerless, he or she often needs a push from an outside character to set him or her on the path to adventure. R2D2 running away is simply a dramatic means to get Luke on his Path of Action while maintaining the integrity of his character. Situations like this illuminate why the moment the protagonist finds the desire to take action predicates the inciting incident, rather than the moment the first action is taken.

INCITING INCIDENT IGNORANCE AT WORK

One of my biggest surprises of 2008 was the movie Taken. My surprise was not because such a small film performed so respectably at the box office. I was surprised that such an amateur screenplay was produced in the first place. Taken's script is a structural joke, highlighted first by the writers' inability to understand their own inciting incident.

 

Taken is the story of a father's attempts to rescue his daughter after she is kidnapped while vacationing in Paris. The simplest way to pinpoint an inciting incident is to ask what a story's main conflict is about, and then identify the moment that launches the protagonist's desire to act. Given the premise of Taken, this must be the moment the kidnapping occurs and the father commits himself to rescuing her. But instead, the writers thought the inciting incident to be to be the moment the daughter asks to go to Paris. If Taken's story was all about a father who feels sad that his daughter has gone abroad, this might work. But it is not. The daughter leaving for Paris is nothing more than another piece of setup. It does not begin the story's main conflict and definitely does not launch the Story Spine. The real inciting incident (the kidnapping) is then placed extremely late in the narrative, at the end of the first act, resulting in a movie with a dull, eventfull opening 30 minutes. This mistake threatened to lose the entire audience before the story could even start.

 

Taken faltered because it failed to identify which structural event belonged where. On the other hand, I am shocked by how many screenwriting books are so ignorant that they confuse the inciting incident with the first act turning point. I have read several which claim that the inciting incident does not need to occur until the end of the first act -- 30 minutes into the film! Let me say that another way: These books believe it to be good screencraft to keep audiences waiting for a full half hour until something worth a damn happens. This is longer than an entire episode of a television sitcom. Any book that believes an audience will sit and wait for that long before the conflict engages and the story finally begins does not know what it is talking about. If you want to bore your audience and make them wonder why they are sitting through this snorefest, go ahead and take these books' advice. Otherwise, throw the damn things out a window.

To see the effects of a long-delayed inciting incident, take a look at 2002's Minority Report. Minority Report is the futuristic story of a detective tasked with arresting pre-visioned murders before they can happen. Drama ensues when the detective himself is framed for one of these murders. Given this premise, the inciting incident is clearly the moment when the detective finds he has been fingered for murder. Only this event does not occur until FORTY minutes into the film! It takes forty whole minutes for the real story to begin! Everything before this moment is nothing more than a long, tedious setup filled with techno-babble, long-winded exposition, and a lot of Tom Cruise waving his fingers around. The final film could have been greatly improved if only its storytellers had recognized their misplaced inciting incident and done some simple editing to move it to its proper position. That way, the audience did not have to wait through forty minutes of this “action-thriller” before the action finally began.

All is (NOT) Lost -- End of 2nd Act Turning Points

(Related article: How to Save $19.99)

The other day read on a message board some wannabe screenwriter refer to the End of 2^nd Act Turning Point as the “all is lost point.” If you knew me personally, you would know how much I had to restrain myself. I knew right away where the person got this term. From that damn Save the Cat book. (Be forewarned that if I ever catch anyone using one of Blake Synder's cutsie-poo phrases in my presence as if they were actual screenwriting parlance, they should expect to receive a verbal smack upside the head.) This incident illustrates the exact reason why I have a problem with Synder's books. They not only encourage formulaic, cook-book style writing, but mislead young writers into thinking that there is only one way to do things. Even though, on average, the Dark Moment (as it is more commonly called by professional screenwriters) is the most common way to end second acts in recent Hollywood films, it is not by even the smallest margin the only way to end the act. There are in fact multiple well-established methods to bring the penultimate act to a dramatic close, all depending on the needs of the particular story.

1. The Dark Moment

a. Variety #1: Dark Moment/Spark of Hope

A Dark Moment alone is not enough to bring a 2^nd Act to an end and launch the action of the 3^rd. Acts end with a two-part structure. There is first the end-of-act climax (the outcome of the conflict that ends the act). This is then followed by an end-of-act turning point (an event that allows (or forces) a new path for the protagonist to take to reach the main Story Goal). Sometimes the turning point is created by the outcome of the climax, meaning that the events are one and the same. But more often, they occur as two separate events, occurring one after the other.

If a story resolves in an up-ending, that is, a “happy” ending where the hero succeeds in the end, the Dark Moment that ends the 2^nd Act must be immediately followed by a Spark of Hope. If “all is lost” and that's all there is to it, there is nothing to provide the motivation to launch the protagonist into the 3^rd Act. After all, all is still lost. The conflict seems to be resolved in the hero's disfavor, and the hero has nothing to do but mope around and feel sorry for him/herself. The Spark of Hope is an event where the character and audience learns that the hero still has a chance. Something happens that gives the hero has one last shot of overcoming the conflict and reaching a happy end. 

The Matrix ends its 2^nd Act with the protagonist Neo in the worst situation possible. He and his allies have been betrayed and his mentor Morpheus captured by the Agents. Neo knows that the antagonist will torture Morpheus until he gives up information that will spell the quick end of all they have fought for. He is left with only the worst possible option -- to pull the plug on his mentor and kill him before this can happen.

However, this gloom is quickly reversed with a Spark of Hope. Rather than give up, Neo decides to take on the impossible odds to rescue Morpheus. He chooses hope over failure. This is the moment which launches the story into its final act.

The Spark of Hope should create a quick reversal of emotion in the audience. The situation was extremely negative, then suddenly positive. Such quick ups and downs creates the famous “roller-coaster” experience. All sequence-ending turning points should get some power from a reversal of emotions (a change from positive to negative, or vice versa), but this reversal is especially important at the end of the 2^nd Act. As the story heads into the 3^rd Act, the act that is supposed to contain the exciting resolution of the Story Spine, the story needs MOMENTUM. The story needs the sharpest drop possible in the emotional roller-coaster. The bigger the emotional reversal, the more momentum which begins the third act.

This is by far the most popular way to end a 2^nd Act, and can be found in countless films, from Braveheart to Slingblade to Knocked Up. In fact, it has become so common that it has taken on the label of a cliché. Go to the theater and watch 10 movies. I guarantee that at least half of them have chosen to go with the Dark Moment/Spark of Hope.

b. Variety #2: The Nail in the Coffin

(Note that these are self-invented terms. Like all those Synder-isms, you shouldn't go around using them as if they were official scriptspeak because people will not know what you're talking about.)

The Dark Moment/Spark of Hope is found mostly in movies with up-endings as a means to fuel a rooting desire for the protagonist as he or she enters the ultimate test which is the third act. In contrast, the Nail in the Coffin is found exclusively in stories with down-endings -- usually stories of self-destructive protagonists who bring their own ruin. Examples include Raging Bull, Citizen Kane, and There Will Be Blood. These stories feature anti-heroes who end up in failure or misery due to their inability to overcome their character flaws. These second acts end with the protagonist committing an unwise (or even unconscionable) action that seals their eventual doom by eliminating any possibility for redemption. In all three of the above examples, the Nail in the Coffin occurs by way of the protagonist willfully severing the last connection he has to a sympathetic friend or supporter. There is no spark of hope for these characters because they do not deserve any. But no Spark of Hope means no reversal of audience emotion. Typically, this creates a 3^rd Act dramatically weaker than the previous variety as the audience watches the protagonist's dreary life circle the drain toward an inevitable failure.

2. The False Victory

A False Victory is very similar to the Dark Moment/Spark of Hope, except its two events have the opposite emotional charge. With a False Victory, the protagonist wins the conflict that ends the second act. Act 2B of Raiders of the Lost Ark ends with Indiana Jones successfully stealing the Ark back from the Nazis. Hooray! The audience receives a brief emotional high. It seems like things will turn out okay. But not so fast. The end-of-act climax is followed by a turning point that renders the victory meaningless. The antagonist (or whatever the source of the story conflict) has taken a NEW action that throws a huge new roadblock in the hero's way. Indiana Jones's journey home is intercepted by a Nazi submarine and the Ark is stolen back. The protagonist's once certain victory is now again in doubt. The hero must ready him/herself for a new fight: the battle that will climax at the story's end.

The False Victory is also a good choice for stories with sympathetic heroes that meet a tragic end. These 2^nd Acts end with the story at its highest emotional point. But this victory is followed by a turning point that abruptly puts the situation in reverse. Act 2B of Brazil ends with the hero on the top of the world. He was won over his dream girl and seemingly escaped the nightmare of his existence. But, not so fast. Just as the hero finds his happiness, the authorities invade his home and take him into custody.

3. The Key Piece of the Puzzle

This type of end-of-act turning point is often found in stories containing a high element of mystery.
Up until this moment, a key piece of information has been kept hidden from the protagonist (and usually the audience as well). When this key piece is finally revealed, it changes EVERYTHING. It changes our perception of the story we have already seen, and more importantly, it changes the hero's actions from that point onward, dramatically altering the conflict that will decide the story's end.

Alien's 2^nd Act closes when the crew discovers that their employer intentionally sent them on a mission to bring the monster aboard the ship. In The Bourne Identity, Jason Bourne finally discovers who is trying to kill him and why. In Memento, the audience learns that Natalie has been setting up Leonard the whole time. In Casablanca, Ilsa reveals that she is still in love with Rick.

Chinatown provides the best example. Detective Jake Gittes has come to suspect Mrs. Mulwray of killing her own husband. He also believes Mulwray has kidnapped her husband's mistress with the plan of killing her too. However, when Gittes confronts her, he discovers that he couldn't be more wrong. The girl is Mrs. Mulwray's secret daughter, the product of incestuous rape by the antagonist. Mulwray's husband was murdered for trying to protect the daughter. Everything changes for Gittes after this moment.

4. The Launch of the Final Plan

Back to the Future's 2^nd Act ends this manner, as does the 2^nd Act of Star Wars. The heroes have overcome their end-of-act battle, for better or worse, and now devise an ultimate plan, one huge final effort to that will hopefully overcome the conflict and seize their story goal. The 3^rd Act begins with the launch of this plan into motion. Out of the four common types of turning points discussed in this article, this last variety generally launches the 3^rd Act with the least dramatic momentum due to its general lack of an emotional reversal. However, a tense and exciting third act is still possible as long as conflict continues to escalate and the master plan never goes exactly as the heroes wish. After all, nothing is less interesting than when everything goes according to the plan.

Despite its lack of an emotional reversal, the use of a Launch of the Final Plan does not denote an inferior film. Some of the most critically acclaimed films of all time use this type of turning point, such as The Godfather (the death of Michael Corleone's father gives him the opportunity to finally destroy his family's rivals), Lawrence of Arabia (the march to Damascus) and Schindler's List (the creation of the list). All that matters is how well the turning point is executed and how appropriate this type of turning point is for the course of the particular story.

These are the four most commonly used methods, but they are not the only ways to bring a 2^nd Act to a dramatic end. Though they are difficult to find, plenty of movies contain effective 2^nd Act turning points that do not fit into any of these categories. No Country For Old Men ends its 2^nd Act with the antagonist offering an ultimatum to the hero and the hero rejecting it. Though it may seem abnormal, this event is just as effective in launching the action of its story's 3^rd Act as any of the more popular methods. (EDITOR'S NOTE: Upon revising this article, I now realize that the rejection of ultimatum which ends the Act 2B of No Country may be labeled a "Nail in the Coffin." 3/20)

The point is that a writer must choose a way to end the 2^nd Act that best serves the needs of their unique story. Blindly forcing an “all is lost” point onto your story can end up damaging it, since your story may not be the type that would benefit from such a moment. The rules of screencraft must not be followed rigidly and applied blindly to any and every story. Instead, screencraft must remain flexible to the needs of the particular story. Every story has its own unique needs. Adapt the rules to the story and not the story to the rules. Unless you're the type of writer who wants your story to be generic, predictable, and read like something out of a cookbook. If that's the case, then by all means continue saving cats.

Tick, Tick, Tick...

The ticking clock is a dramatic device used to create a heightened sensation of suspense across a story sequence. Basically, the device operates on a principle of uncertainty. A character MUST reach a certain goal. If the character does not, he or she will be met with dire consequences. This is nothing out of the ordinary for a story sequence. Only in this case, the character has a limited (and often very short) amount of time to reach the goal, and plenty of potential conflict standing in the way. This creates a situation where the dramatic tension over the question of whether or not the character will succeed grows in intensity with every passing second.

There are two basic types of ticking clocks: the literal ticking clock and the non-literal. Though both types generate suspense by leading audiences to ask the question, “Will [character x] achieve [goal y] in time?”, the two types have slight differences in their construction and the type of suspense they generate.

THE LITERAL TICKING CLOCK: BACK TO THE FUTURE

The third act of Back to the Future contains possibly the most well-known, and most literal of all ticking clock sequences. The protagonist Marty McFly is stuck in the year 1955. The only way he can get back to his own time is for he and Doc to get the time machine in the right place, going at the right speed, at the exact moment a bolt of lightening hits the courthouse clock tower at the stroke of 10:04 pm. Fail to do that, and Marty will be stuck in the past forever.

In literal ticking clock sequence, both the audience and characters (though in some cases, only the audience) know exactly how much time the characters have to reach the goal. Often, the audience is literally shown a clock ticking down, such as the frequent shots of the clock tower in Future.

At the top of these sequences, characters often have a well thought-out plan on how to reach their goal with time to spare. They are confident in their chances, as are the audience. However, watching Marty and Doc sit around waiting for the time to be right, and then pull off the plan without a hitch would not be dramatic, and certainly not suspenseful. The ticking clock can only generate suspense when the audience doubts the chances of success. Suspense is even greater when it seems certain that it will be impossible for the hero to succeed in the time remaining.

With a literal ticking clock sequence, suspense escalates when obstacles are unexpectedly thrown in the way of the characters' path and/or plans. (This relates to an old rule about communicating information to your audience. The only time an audience should ever be told the character's plan is when the storyteller intends to make everything go horribly wrong. It is about setting up expectations, and then reversing them.) Everything seems fine and dandy for Marty and Doc's plan - until a falling tree branch pulls out one of the so-important cables from the roof of the courthouse. Suddenly, a question arises in the audience: Will they be able to reconnect the cable and still carry off the plan in time?

But this one small obstacle is not enough to carry suspense for the length of the sequence. Reconnecting one cable is a relatively minor task, one that can be completed with time to spare. What these sequences require are a series of obstacles that come one after another. As soon as Doc or Marty overcome one obstacle, another follows right on its heels. The ledge breaks, sending Doc dangling from its edge. The time machine stalls. The moment Doc plugs in one cable, another one detaches. Since these obstacles appear linearly and in rapid succession, the audience experiences an emotional “roller-coaster” as their hopes are suddenly raised with the success over one obstacle, and then once again sent plummeting with the onset of the next obstacle.

In Back to the Future, the obstacles themselves do not escalate in the level of threat they pose, as would be expected in a regular action sequence. The second unplugged cable is objectively a no larger problem that the unplugging of the first cable. However, there is significant difference in the level of perceived threat in the audience's minds, thanks to the ticking clock. Since the audience is kept constantly aware of the remaining time as the clock ticks down, the later an obstacle arises the more threatening it appears. The first detached cable is a relatively moderate threat, since Doc and Marty still have plenty of time left to fix the problem. In contrast, the final detached cable gives the audience a heart attack. They know only seconds remain, this obstacle couldn't possibly be overcome in time, and the heroes are most likely doomed.

THE NON-LITERAL CLOCK: DIE HARD

With a non-literal ticking clock, both character and audience know that something terrible will happen unless the character reaches a certain goal within an allotted amount of time. Yet in this case, neither the character nor audience know how much time the character has to achieve the goal. Instead, the terrible consequence could occur at any moment.

Die Hard contains a non-literal ticking clock in its early third act. Both the audience and John McClane know that the antagonist Hans plans to blow up the roof and kill all the hostages in the process. However, no one knows exactly when Hans will do this. It is up to Hans to decide when to push the button. Because of this, John McClane must get the hostages and himself off the roof as fast as possible.

A non-literal ticking clock gives a sequence a greater sense of urgency than its literal counterpart. Because the unwanted event could happen at any moment, the character must move as fast as possible. Each passing second could mean death or failure. This urgency forces the character to take far more drastic actions to any resistance he or she may meet. When John McClane first reaches the roof and tells the hostages to flee downstairs, they are slow to believe the threat. With no time to lose, John takes quick and brute action by firing his machine gun to scare them like cattle.

Like the literal ticking clock, the suspense of a non-literal case should escalate with the unexpected arrival of obstacles. This can be a series of small obstacles, like in Future, but more often one large obstacle will do the trick. The hero must get out of the burning house, but a monster steps in front of the only exit. Likewise, as soon as McClane is able to herd the hostages off the roof, the FBI helicopter begins to fire at McClane, under the impression that he is a terrorist. McClane still needs to get off the roof before it blows up, but cannot with the helicopter trying to kill him. The urgency of the non-literal ticking clock forces McClane to take drastic action by jumping off the roof with nothing but a firehose around his waist to keep him from falling to his death.

When the non-literal clock does finally run out of time, the big event should come as a surprise. Make the audience's hearts jump into their throats as they suddenly meet the moment they feared. If they see it coming, it will lose its dramatic impact.

BOTH AT ONCE: ALIEN

 

 The third act of the sci-fi horror Alien proves to be the most suspenseful of all by carrying out both types of ticking clock sequences, literal and non-literal, simultaneously in the same situation.

In a last-ditch effort to kill the alien monster on board the ship, Alien's protagonist Ripley decides to engage the ship's self-destruct mechanism, giving her a literal ticking clock of ten minutes to reach the escape pod before the ship explodes. The audience is kept abreast of Ripley's time remaining by a computer voice counting down each minute.

However, things are not so easy. Ripley cannot just run to the escape pod and leave with plenty of time to spare. There is a second line of suspense occurring simultaneously. The alien monster is still lurking somewhere on the ship, intent on making Ripley its final victim. The audience knows that it is only a matter of time before the monster makes another appearance. But the audience does not know WHEN. This certain event, combined with the uncertainty of time, creates a second, non-literal ticking clock in addition to the literal one.

These two lines of suspense feed off one another, increasing dramatic tension exponentially. Ripley cannot merely run to the escape pod to avoid the first dire consequence (the exploding ship) because she does not know when or where the second consequence (the monster's attack) may occur. This forces her to move slowly and cautiously as the clock ticks down.

As usual, an obstacle appears to throw Ripley's success into doubt. The monster appears, blocking her path to the escape pod. Ripley is able to avoid being killed, but now she cannot continue forward. She must turn back the way she came. Her outcome has become more uncertain. Another major complication occurs when Ripley is unable to abort the self-destruct in time. Tension has escalated. She still must get to the escape pod with the monster still lurking in the shadows, but she now has only half the time to do so as before. Like in Back to the Future, this later problem is relatively the same as the first one, but the situation is much worse subjectively because far less time remains.

One thing remains to be said about ticking clocks. This one is so obvious that it has become the subject of parody, yet it is still very true. Always run your clock down to its very last second. The math behind this is simple. As long as the outcome is uncertain, the audience will experience tension. The less time that remains = the greater the tension. For maximum impact, the storyteller must leave both the characters and audience gasping until the final second.