Reconsidering the (completely misnamed) 3-Act Label

(Related article: "I'VE CREATED A MONSTER!")

 
It has become considered pretty much axiomatic that cinematic stories are structured in three acts. It is treated as extreme ignorance to think otherwise. Of course, there is plenty of evidence to support this. The dramatic rule of threes has been around since the time of Aristotle.

A story told in three acts seems elementary. Since childhood we are taught stories have a beginning, middle, and end. Or, as the “script gurus” unhelpfully put it, “setup, rising action, and resolution.” Even I have staunchly insisted that cinematic stories always have three acts, no more, no less. Yet still, whenever I looked at a visual representation of the three-act model, it always seemed like something was, well – a little jacked up.

Why are things so unbalanced? What is with this oblong stretched-out middle? What sense does it make that there must be one short act, then one very long act, and then another short act? It is no wonder why second acts put developing screenwriters into a cold sweat. Their story has a beginning. The story has an ending. But how the hell are they going to fill this vast wasteland in between? How are they going to keep the story going, keeps things developing and escalating, and at the same time keep the audience's attention for nearly an hour's length of time? There is good reason why most spec screenplays stumble, sag, or run out of energy during their second acts. It is like trying to drive across 100 miles of desert with only 50 miles worth of gas.

Second act sagginess apparently comes from the lack of a major dramatic turning point for over an hour of screen time. According to the sequence method, a properly-structured story requires a turning point every ten to fifteen minutes to provide development, escalation, and maintain story momentum. However, the 3-Act model relies on certain MAJOR turning points occurring at specific dramatic moments. These moments create such significant situation-altering events that they effectively break the story into separate blocks. The 3-Act model has had so much success because these major dramatic turning points reignite audience interest with a forceful shove at right about the times when their attentions start to wane.

Most books on screencraft teach that proper narrative structure contains only three major dramatic turning points, one located at the end of each act:

Unfortunately, there is a problem when it comes to the second act. Major dramatic turning points provide only so much “push,” or dramatic momentum. After less than thirty minutes, the momentum wears off and the audience's attentions once again start to wane. This is fine and dandy for the short first and third acts, since the audience does not have to wait long before its next shot in the arm. But then we have that long unwieldy second act. And not surprisingly, smack dab in the middle of the second act is where most beginner scripts start... to slow... down....

But wait a second. If this is a constant problems, why are the films we see in theaters so successful with their second acts? How do they manage to maintain attention and excitement from beginning to end with no lag through their middles? What do they do right that most spec script get wrong?

The reality is that most “script gurus” overlook an absolutely fundamental piece of their beloved 3-Act structure. Analyze any handful of well-written, well-structured feature films and you will quickly discover an overlooked FOURTH major dramatic turning point occurring smack-dab in the middle of the second act.

Alien – the monster alien explodes from Kane's chest, turning the story from a mystery to a fight for survival.

Good Will Hunting – Will finally opens up to his therapist, permanently changing the story's central character relationship and how Will approaches the story conflict.

Rocky – Rocky allows Mick to become his manager, changing the relationship between the hero and his mentor and giving Rocky his first legitimate chance of success.

Iron Man – Tony Stark makes his first successful appearance as Iron Man, forever turning the protagonist from selfish playboy to global hero.

Schindler's List – Oskar Schindler commits his first truly unselfish act by using his watch to save an old couple, beginning his transformation from profiteer to hero.

Die Hard – John McClane finally gets the attention of the police, permanently changing (and greatly complicating) the landscape of the story conflict.

Star Wars – The heroes are pulled onto the Death Star, trapping them in the belly of the beast and forcing them to face the force of antagonism head-on.

The Shining – The characters have their first meaningful physical contact with the evil that resides in the hotel, changing the conflict from abstract to tangible.

Now, many books mention something about a “Midpoint scene.” But like much of the material in these books, the information on what this midpoint does and how it should be used tends to be vague and unhelpful. The “midpoint” is actually quite a simple concept. This events provides a major dramatic turning point which creates a “hinge point” in the narrative -- essentially splitting the story in two: the story situation as it existed before the mid-second act turning point, and the drastically altered situation existing after the turning point, as pointed out by the examples above. The mid-second act turning point not only creates a major moment of development and escalation, but provides a powerful boost to reignites audience interest and launch the narrative forcefully into the second half of the second act.

The Midpoint event sounds just like and end-of-act turning point, doesn't it? That's because it is one!  Here is where all the confusion over 3-Act structure originates. THE 3-ACT STRUCTURE IS COMPLETELY MISNAMED. The traditional 3-Act structure tells stories in four parts, not three. Rather than one short act, one very long act, and then another short act, successful feature-length narratives are comprised of FOUR ACTS OF EQUAL LENGTH.

Successful cinematic structure become elegantly simple as soon as one realizes that cinematic stories are composed of four equal units of action:

Alien

Act 1 – Heroes investigate a distress signal. (TP: A creature attaches itself to Kane and is brought onboard the ship.

Act 2A – Heroes try to figure out this creature attached to Kane. (TP: Monster bursts from Kane's and is now loose on the ship)

Act 2B – Heroes try to capture or kill the monster. (TP: Heroes realize monster is unkillable and must destroy the ship.)

Act 3 – Destroying the ship and escaping the monster for good.

Rocky

Act 1 – Hero struggles with life as a worthless bum. (TP: Rocky is offered a fight with the world champion.)

Act 2A – Hero hopelessly tries to prepare for the fight on his own. (TP: Rocky reconciles with his mentor and agrees to let him become his manager.)

Act 2B – Hero develops from bum to contender with the help of his mentor. (TP: Rocky realizes he still has no chance, but sets a new goal for himself to “go the distance” with the champion.)

Act 3 – Rocky succeeds at his new goal, proving his self-worth.

Star Wars

Act 1 – Hero finds a message that will help defeat the evil empire, but is unwilling to get directly involved. (TP: Hero's home is destroyed by members of the evil empire, giving him no choice but to leave home to join the Rebel cause.)

Act 2A – Leaving Tatooine with the secret message. (TP: Hero becomes trapped aboard the Death Star, the heart of the evil empire.)

Act 2B – Escape from the Death Star. (TP: Hero succeeds, allowing him to deliver the message.)

Act 3 – Hero joins the battle to defeat the empire using the message's information.

Here now is a new visual model for the 3-Act structure:

Isn't this simpler? Isn't this easier to manage? Doesn't this make more sense? With the simple recognition of an additional end-of-act turning point, the classic 3-Act model goes from wonky and difficult, to balanced, simple, and easy for any beginner to manage. Second acts need no longer strike fear in the hearts of developing writers. Or any act for that matter.

(Note that to avoid confusion, I have not relabeled the acts as Acts 1, 2, 3, & 4. To remain in line with established terminology, “3^rd Act” shall always refer to a story's final act. The two halves of the former second act are now labelled "Act 2A" and "Act 2B." We minimize misunderstandings if everyone keeps speaking the same language.)

scribble on.