Tuesday, May 12, 2020

Scriptmonk's Plot Pattern Extravaganza -- ALL Y'ALL FAVORITES! (Part 4)



In this fourth and final installment of my Plot Pattern Extravaganza, I briefly break down three modern classics whose patterns have been highly difficult to identify in the past. Yet this difficulty has been resolved now that I have recognized the alternative paths or deviations implemented in each story. This series then ends with an extended look at Type 11b: The Insurrectionist, through three new films with diverse story premises.

Unforgiven (1992)


Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven can be called an “anti-Western” in that it intentionally attempts to de-mythologize the genre by pointing out the falsehoods of many of its most popular tropes. Particularly, Unforgiven refutes the myth of the gunslinger-as-social mediator: the heroic outsider, living by an honorable code, who uses violence to remedy social problems. In addition, Unforgiven casts a similarly ambiguous light on the genre’s other stock hero, the ethically-just lawman (played in this film by Gene Hackman).

In terms of its plot pattern, Unforgiven mirrors Type 2c: The Returning Hero. Being one of the more rarely-seen plot patterns, Screenwriting & The Unified Theory of Narrative, Part II resorts to an odd trio of prototypes to illustrate the Returning Hero structure: The Dark Knight Rises (2012), Airplane! (1980), and Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997). The pattern is fairly straightforward: The protagonist is a hero of former greatness who, due to accumulated personal flaws, has receded into disrepute or obscurity. The arrival of the Story Problem causes characters to ask the protagonist to return to his or her former role. The protagonist then attempts to engage with the story conflict through his or her old, accustomed methods. Yet the character struggles as these methods prove flawed and/or obsolete, bringing the protagonist to a lowest point at the end of Act 2A. Moments of self-reflection then prompt the protagonist to reevaluate the attitudes or beliefs attached to the hero’s past fall from grace and reinvent him or herself as a new and improved hero. With this transformation, the hero overcomes the story conflict and returns to glory.

When viewed purely in terms of plot, Unforgiven follows this pattern. Eastwood plays Bill Munny, a formerly notorious outlaw who, after being reformed by his now-deceased wife, has settled down into the humble life of a father and hog farmer. A band of prostitutes in the town of Big Whiskey have put a bounty on the heads of two cowpokes for cutting up the face of one of the women. A boastful youngster calling himself the “Shofield Kid” (Jaimz Woolvet) comes to Munny’s farm to ask for his help killing the cowpokes, giving an exaggerated account of the crime. Munny first refuses, but soon relents out of his need for the money, recruiting his friend Ned Logan (Morgan Freeman), another former outlaw turned farmer, to join him. On the journey to Big Whiskey, Munny insists that he is not the man he used to be. He is referring to his moral character, but it is clear that this broken-down old man is far from the same man physically as well. This is quickly proven at the story’s Midpoint. Upon arrival in Big Whiskey, Munny, weak from fever, is easily thrashed by Marshall “Little Bill” Dagget (Hackman), forcing him and his comrades to retreat into hiding.

Yet, while Unforgiven seems to mirror the Returning Hero’s other prototypical examples in terms of its plot, Unforgiven presents a complete reversal of the pattern’s familiar Character Arc. The Dark Knight Rises, Airplane!, and Austin Powers are all Celebratory narratives—the thematic type in which the protagonist ultimately succeeds by choosing to embrace a socially-approved behavioral value, thus becoming a “better” person. Unforgiven, however, offers a Cynical narrative—the thematic type in which the protagonist succeeds by embracing a socially-condemned behavioral value, thus becoming a “worse” person. (I explain these thematic types in great detail in Screenwriting & The Unified Theory of Narrative, Part I. You may also find a thorough essay on the subject HERE) This makes all the difference when it comes to evaluating Unforgiven as a Returning Hero. The old Bill Munny was a vicious, cold-blooded, and thoroughly-despicable person. Yet the Munny we meet at the start of Unforgiven has already changed his misguided ways, abandoned his flaws, and grown into a more ideal person. Rather than grow worse in his time away from the spotlight like other Returning Hero protagonists, he has improved his character. Yet, just like in the pattern’s other examples, this changed nature now makes him unsuitable to successfully answer the call to return to his old role. Munny’s insistence that he is no longer a remorseless killer is proven by his dismal failure at the story’s Midpoint.

Munny’s changed, more temperate nature thus constitutes his “fatal flaw” in the quest to collect the bounty on the two cowpokes. To succeed, he must abandon his conscience to become a killer once again. Despite strong reservations, Munny continues this mission thanks to the spurring of the Shofield Kid and his sympathy for the disfigured prostitute Delilah (Anna Thomson). Though they successfully achieve their mission’s objective, the shameful and cowardly nature of the killings only intensifies Munny’s moral dilemma. Munny’s “flaw” encourages him to end any further action and return home. However, the plot intervenes at the End of Act 2B to force Munny to complete his full character conversion. Little Bill captures and executes Ned Logan. Enraged by this senseless murder of his only friend, Munny throws away his “flawed” good nature to once again become the psychopathic anti-hero he once was in order to take revenge on Little Bill and his associates in Act 3. By choosing to present its story in the Cynical mode rather than the Celebratory, Unforgiven puts a twist on the Returning Hero plot pattern. Instead of a “Returning Hero,” we have a “Returning Anti-hero.”

Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid (1969)


Another Western—this one produced during Hollywood’s “Silver Age” (a period covering the 1960s and 1970s, situated between the end of the Hollywood Studio System and the start of the modern “Blockbuster Age”). As noted in my discussion on North by Northwest in Part 2 of this series, it can be tricky to analyze the structures of “classic” films, since the narrative norms implemented during Hollywood’s “Golden Age” differed in many slight, yet significant ways from the modern films we are used to seeing today. The “Silver Age” was a period of transition and experimentation. Thus, some films demonstrate the prototypical shape of the plot patterns so common today (such as in The Godfather [1972] or The Graduate [1967]), some contain no identifiable pattern, while in others we see the vague form of a modern pattern with sharp deviations. Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid belongs to the last group. However, the story’s major plot points indicate the shape of a certain pattern which will become further refined (and thus more recognizable) in later years.

Here is the film’s (very simple) plot in a nutshell: Butch and his best friend Sundance lead the notorious “Hole in the Wall” gang. Butch seizes upon the ambitious idea to rob the Union Pacific Flyer train not once, but twice in succession. The first robbery goes perfectly and our heroes easily escape capture. Butch and Sundance feel invincible. Yet rather than get out while the getting’s good, they attempt the second robbery. This second attempt proves disastrous, revealing a posse lying in wait to pursue the robbers. With this, we discover that the heroes’ reach has exceeded their grasp; that their ambition extended far beyond good sense. Butch and Sundance are endlessly pursued by the posse until a point when both conclude they must escape the country. Transporting themselves to Bolivia, Butch and Sundance first try to go straight by getting a job with honest pay. Yet this soon proves unsatisfactory, and the pair return to the lifestyle of notorious bandits. This choice leads the protagonists to their eventual doom, culminating in the famous climax where Butch and Sundance are surrounded and slaughtered by the Bolivian military.

This outline charts a clear rise and fall in the fortunes of the ambitious anti-heroes. There is a family of plot patterns dedicated to such stories, literally called the “Rise & Fall.” This family has two subtypes. In Type 10a: The Power Glutton (exemplified by films like Citizen Kane [1941], Goodfellas [1990], and The Wolf of Wall Street [2013]), an anti-hero of extraordinary abilities achieves glory, and is ultimately undone, by an insatiable lust to amass more and more wealth, power, or fame. In Type 10b: The Overreacher (exemplified by films like Scarface [1983], Patton [1970], and The Imitation Game [2014]) a gutsy and determined anti-hero pursues and attains a modest level of success. Yet the anti-hero is not satisfied, and reaches for more than figures of authority are willing to allow, leading to a downfall at the story’s Midpoint. The anti-hero is then given a second chance in Act 2B. The protagonist may learn his/her lesson, change his/her ways, and make good on this second chance to achieve a happy end. Yet more often, the protagonist falls back into his or her old, flawed habits, leading to a second and permanent downfall.

We may identify Butch & Sundance as an Overreacher by the fact that the protagonists receive a second chance to correct their ways in Bolivia, yet soon throw this chance away to return to their old habits. This commits the protagonists to a path to their ultimate downfall. Yet Butch & Sundance deviates from the pattern’s more familiar examples (and is thus made more difficult to identify) in one obvious way. Most Rise & Fall narratives cover many years of story time, charting the entire course of an anti-hero’s career. The causes of the protagonist’s rise to glory and fall to ruin typically cannot be credited to individual actions, but an accumulation of objectives and behaviors. Butch & Sundance, on the other hand, simplifies the Overreacher narrative a great deal, as the course of the protagonists’ changing fortunes is composed entirely from one linear cause-and-effect chain of action. Butch & Sundance thus presents a stripped-down and highly limited use of the Overreacher. This shows that the pattern may be used to dramatize a single, short-lived—and self-dooming—chain of actions, just as it might a character’s entire career. (In this way, Butch & Sundance has less in common with Patton or Scarface than it does with 500 Days of Summer [2009], a film which uses the Overreacher to chart the rise and fall of a romantic relationship.)

Beetlejuice (1988)


For the longest time, Beetlejuice was a real flaw in the ointment of my plot pattern paradigm. Though an undeniably successful narrative, it did not seem to fit into any of my thirty-four patterns. It is not a foreign film. It does not use one of the non-traditional story structures (as films like Forrest Gump [1994] or The Curious Case of Benjamin Button [2008] do). Nor is it an “art film” which intentionally subverts conventional norms. No, it is a commercial Hollywood genre narrative of traditional three-act form.

But the mystery was solved with one simple question: Just what the heck is Beetlejuice in this story? He is not the protagonist. Nor is he the antagonist. He is a third party, acting independently, forging and breaking alliances in pursuit of his own objectives. A-ha! It all makes sense now. I have just described a “Wild Card,” a key character role found in Type 16a: The Moral Mirrors.

Exemplified by prototypes such as The Departed (2006), Heat (1995), and There’s Something About Mary (1998), the Moral Mirrors follows the actions of two separate parties: a hero and an anti-hero. In Act 1, both parties commit to independent, yet directly-opposing, story goals. This makes each protagonist the other’s antagonist. However, both parties are initially unaware of this opposition, or even of the other party’s existence. The characters then discover this conflict of interests at the story’s Midpoint, causing the two narrative lines to converge into a direct interpersonal conflict. (We can thus say the Moral Mirrors features a Y-shaped structure.) Due to the unity of opposites, every step taken toward the goal of one party poses a threat to the other party’s goal. As such, both parties take actions to derail the other in Act 2B. The addition of the Wild Card character complicates the situation. The Wild Card is a third party who sometimes opposes both hero and anti-hero, and at other times forges (often short-lived) alliances with one party against the other. The story typically makes its Act 3 turn with an “end-game” move perpetrated by one of the three parties against one of the other two. This sets up a direct confrontation between the surviving parties, culminating in an all-or-nothing battle at the story climax.

Yet, upon initial viewing, Beetlejuice does not seem to resemble any of the Moral Mirror’s prototypical examples. This is due to the film’s use of multiple alternative options. While every plot pattern offers storytellers a handful of structural alternatives, most non-prototypical examples make use of only one or two of these. Beetlejuice, however, appears completely unique alongside other Moral Mirrors since it uses practically all of the pattern’s alternatives. First of all, the hero role is played by dual characters: Barbara and Adam Maitland (Geena Davis & Alec Baldwin). As recently-deceased ghosts, the Maitlands’ goal is to keep their treasured home as their own so they may carry on in the same peace and quiet they enjoyed while alive. The anti-hero role is also played by dual characters: Delia and Charles Deetz (Catherine O’Hara and Jeffrey Jones). Practically the antithesis of the Maitlands, the Deetzes have purchased the Maitlands’ home with the goal of remaking it in their own tacky image to find happiness in their own obnoxious way. With this setup, we find a clear unity of opposites. Yet while the Deetzes are ignorant of the Maitlands (as is the norm with the Moral Mirrors pattern), Beetlejuice deviates in that the Maitlands are intensely aware of the threat posed by the Deetzes from the beginning. Yet the structure remains on track in Act 2A due to the fact that the Maitlands (being noncorporeal ghosts) are currently unable to take any direct actions against the Deetzes. Yet true to the pattern’s form, both parties become fully aware of the mutual opposition at the story’s Midpoint with the “Banana Boat” song sequence.(You’ll have to find this scene online if you are unfamiliar with it. It is a bit too strange to succinctly explain.) Yet this does not have the results the Maitlands had hoped for (it in fact gives the Deetzes the upper hand). Such failures finally seal a wary alliance with the Wild Card Beetlejuice to scare the Deetzes out of the home. (I should also note that the Deetzes’ daughter Lydia [Winona Ryder] also performs a Wild Card role in this story. This is not a deviation, as it is common for a Moral Mirrors to feature more than one Wild Card. For example, in Captain America: Civil War [2016] over a half-dozen supporting characters perform the Wild Card function at various points in the narrative,)

Most Moral Mirrors climax with either one primary party reaching success at the other’s expense (Heat and There’s Something About Mary) or a battle of mutual annihilation where neither achieve victory (The Departed and Captain America: Civil War). Beetlejuice, however, makes use of a rarely-implemented alternative where the hero and the anti-hero reconcile their differences by choosing to compromise their original goals. (The Maitlands and Deetzes eventually drop their opposition and decide to share the house in peace.) Well then, if the hero and anti-hero are on the road to making nice, from where does the climactic Act 3 conflict arise? From the Wild Card, of course. The “end-game” move at the End of Act 2B (or early Act 3) may consist of any of the three parties (Wild Card included) taking action against any of the other parties. With a triangular conflict, the Moral Mirrors may be at any time a war of all-against-all, or a conflict of any two allied parties against the third. For example, an alternative version of The Departed may have opted for an Act 3 where the anti-hero Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) attempts to escape his predicament as a mob-informant by allying himself with the hero Billy Costigan (Leonard Di Caprio) in a pact of mutual opposition against the Wild Card, mobster Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson). Likewise, when the Wild Card Beetlejuice begins to wreck havoc in Act 3, threatening both the heroes and anti-heroes, the Maitlands and the Deetzes are forced to reconcile their differences to oppose the Wild Card’s mutual threat. As such, Beetlejuice presents a rare Celebratory Moral Mirrors where both hero and anti-hero enjoy a happy end.

* * * * *

I will now wrap up this article with three newly-discovered examples of Type 11b: The Insurrectionist. The Insurrectionist belongs to the “Hero Versus the System” family of patterns. However, unlike its sister pattern, The Social Reformer, the Insurrectionist protagonist has no desire to change the world. These protagonists merely wish to be granted the freedom or liberty to live as they please or to do as they see fit. Unfortunately, the character exists within a suffocating System of Oppression which enslaves individuals under strict, unfair or unethical rules. The protagonist rebels, triggering backlash from the System. (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest [1975] presents the most prototypical example of this pattern.) We will start with a film that presents this “struggle for freedom” in the most literal fashion possible:

12 Years a Slave (2013)


12 Years a Slave is based upon the true-life story of Solomon Northrup, a free black Northerner kidnapped and sold into slavery in 1841. While the narrative follows real-life events, we find that some dramatic license has been taken to adapt the actual events into the film’s structural pattern.

Using One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest as our guide, we can see the inciting incident occurs with the entry of the protagonist into the oppressive environment. (Northrup, drugged by men he thought to be employers, wakes in chains and is accused of being a runaway slave.) As a free-thinking individualist, the protagonist immediately creates friction in this new environment, prompting correction from the system. (Northrup is mistreated by the slavers for insisting on his free status. Some men in the same predicament warn Northrup to stay quiet and act dumb if he wishes to survive.) Act 1 then turns with the protagonist deciding not to conform to the system’s rules, but to resist. (Northrup says to his enslaved comrades, “You’re telling me that’s the way to survive? I don’t want to survive. I want to live.”)

In Act 2A, the protagonist presents low-level resistance to his oppressors. However, it should be noted that this is not yet open rebellion. The protagonist merely stands firm to request an allotment of liberty in order to retain a sense of dignity or personal control. (Rather than keep quiet, Northrup demonstrates his skill and intelligence to his new master Mr. Ford [Benedict Cumberbatch] to prove his right to better treatment.) However, the System sees the protagonist as a troublemaker trying to disrupt the status quo, and responds with actions intended to force the protagonist back in line. (The plantation’s “handler” Tibeats [Paul Dano] takes offense to Northrup’s impudence and takes every opportunity to insult and degrade him.)

Such retaliation makes clear that the System refuses to grant the desired liberties. Refusing submission, the protagonist shifts strategies to open opposition, taking an overt action to challenge the System’s authority. (After some bullying by Tibeats, the two get into an argument which results in Northrup striking Tibeats.) With this, the protagonist crosses a line in the sand. The System is infuriated by this act of open defiance and responds in swift and brutal fashion, creating the Midpoint event. (Tibeats attempts to lynch Northrup. Though Tibeats is prevented from killing Northrup, Northrup is still harshly punished for his action. Afterward, Ford informs Northrup that he has no choice but to sell Northrup to Mr. Epps, a notoriously brutal slavemaster.)

A state of “war” has now developed between the protagonist and the System in Act 2B. Compromise or cooperation is no longer possible. “Freedom!” is now the protagonist’s battle cry, while the System demands “Submit or die.” (The conditions are intolerable at the Epps plantation. Northrup can no longer hope to attain merciful and dignified treatment. His only option is to find a means to escape.) The protagonist thus shifts to a position of open rebellion. (However, in the case of 12 Years a Slave, Northrup cannot show any overt sign of rebellion, as this would surely cost him his life. This must be an internal rebellion where Northrup feigns compliance while seeking covert means of revolt.) The “war” of Act 2B intensifies through sequences of escalating actions by the protagonist met by greater counter-actions by the System. (Northrup makes several furtive attempts to evade or escape his oppressors, but each time is thwarted by fear or violence. In Late 2B, Northrup escalates his efforts by making a deal with a white worker Armsby two send a letter for help to the North. Yet, in counter-action, Armsby betrays the plan to Epps, crushing Northrup’s hopes.)

By the end of 2B, the situation reaches a breaking point. It becomes clear that no matter how hard the protagonist resists, the System will always keep him crushed under its heel. (This moment occurs in Slave when Epps forces Northrup at gunpoint to brutally whip his fellow slave Patsey.) Depending on the story, this leaves the protagonist with one of two options: Either directly face and hopefully defeat the System; or, when this is impossible (as it is in Slave) take action to permanently escape the System’s control. (Given no other choice, Northrup decides to risk an alliance with another white worker to send word to the North. This time, the confidant is Bass (Brad Pitt) a friendly Canadian with liberal beliefs on race and slavery.) In Cautionary or Tragic narratives, this plan is flawed or short-sighted and thus fails midway through Act 3. In Celebratory or Cynical narratives, the plan finds progress, but not without serious obstacles arising in the remainder of Act 3. (Bass is true to his word. A sheriff arrives with a Northern friend of Northrup’s.) In either case, this mid-Act 3 turning point often creates a “last stand” scenario. (A final conflict occurs between the two new arrivals and Epps over Northrup’s fate.) In Celebratory narratives like Slave, the film climaxes with the protagonist permanently escaping the System (or, alternatively, forcing the System to finally back down).

The Truman Show (1998)


Now, let us compare 12 Years a Slave with another Insurrectionist narrative, this one with a very different form of enslavement to a quite unusual System of Oppression. The Truman Show is the story of Truman Burbank (Jim Carrey), a young man who, completely unbeknownst to him, has lived his entire life as the star of the world’s longest-running reality TV series. In actuality, Truman’s entire world is an illusion created by the System (the show’s producers) to exploit Truman and keep him compliant. The town is a series of television sets, all the people are paid actors, and every moment has been scripted by writers. This is indeed an oppressive environment in that Truman has no personal freedom, with every aspect tightly controlled by outside authorities. However, The Truman Show is unique among Insurrectionists in that, while the viewer is made aware of the System of Oppression, the protagonist is ignorant of his enslavement for the majority of the film. Nevertheless, Truman feels restless and penned-in. He wants to leave this town and find his own life. This desire incites the story’s conflict. Thus, Truman Show makes use of the Insurrectionist’s alternative form of inciting incident. Rather than entering the oppressive environment, the story begins with the protagonist having existed in that environment for some time. The inciting incident occurs with a moment where the protagonist recognizes the suffocating nature of his or her world and feels the desire to seek freedom. This begins somewhat discreetly in Truman (we see Truman secretly tearing travel photos out of magazines and calling directory assistance to ask about Fiji). Truman then announces his intent to “rebel” at the End of Act 1 by confiding in his best friend (an actor, played by Noah Emmerich) his secret wish to quit his job and travel to Fiji. Meanwhile, Act 1 events provide Truman with initial hints about the fraudulence of his world. (A studio light falls out of the sky; it starts to rain, but only directly above Truman.)

Though he does not yet realize it, Truman begins to fight for his personal liberties in Act 2A by pushing forward on his dream of escaping to Fiji. Yet, as usual with an Insurrectionist, the System does not approve of such independent thought and responds by manipulating Truman’s world with events intended to get Truman back in line—events which further clue Truman into the controlling and oppressive nature of his environment. Finally recognizing the opposition between himself and his world, Truman crosses a line in the sand with an open act of rebellion at the story’s Midpoint. Truman makes a mad dash to escape the island town in his car, but is stopped by a bizarre series of roadblocks.

Recognizing that Truman has entered a state of overt rebellion, the System attempts to crack down on Truman’s behavior through the actors Truman believes to be his family and friends. But Truman is not fooled. He now understands that he is at war with some oppressive force which wishes to keep him enslaved. Act 2B thus presents an escalating battle of actions and counteractions between the protagonist and the System. (The producers even stoop so low to bring back Truman’s deceased “father” in hope that this will keep Truman on the island.)

As mentioned in the previous section, Act 2B turns into Act 3 with the protagonist realizing that he or she will never be able to convince the System to back down willingly. The only solution is to take decisive action to escape the oppressive System for good. Truman fools the producers with a ruse and sets out to “sea” in a small boat. Again, there is a vicious counteraction by the System mid-act: the producers create a storm to force Truman back to land. Yet Truman soldiers on and ultimately finds a door which will take him out of the System to freedom, ending the film with a Celebratory resolution.

Dead Poets Society (1989)


Yet one more Insurrectionist; this one with a “soft” conflict where “enslavement,” “rebellion,” and “escape” occur in a more figurative sense. Dead Poets Society is the coming-of-age a story of a group of teenage boys who, encouraged by a mentor figure, learn to become free-thinking individualists within an academic institution that demands conformity to strict rules and expectations. This Insurrectionist thus dramatizes a fight for the right to non-conform within an oppressive System of Conformity. Society differs from 12 Years a Slave and The Truman Show in some other obvious ways. First, rather than a singular hero, Society operates with a group protagonist (though two boys, Todd [Ethan Hawke] and Neil [Robert Sean Leonard] receive the most attention). Second, Society concludes in a Tragic resolution, meaning that while the protagonists fight the good fight, their efforts ultimately come up short and the System defeats them in the end. Finally, the presence of the mentor figure Mr. Keating (Robin Williams) makes Society somewhat unique. Not only does Keating serve as an outside catalyst for the boys’ rebellion, but becomes the focal point for much of the conflict later on.

In addition, for the sake of accuracy, I must note that Dead Poets Society is not a true prototypical Insurrectionist. It is in fact a hybrid Hero Versus the System, as the story incorporates several attributes from the Insurrectionist’s sister pattern, The Social Reformer. This hybridization shall be commented upon later.

Here once again is the narrative structure of the Insurrectionist, as seen in Dead Poets Society:
At the inciting incident, the protagonists enter the oppressive environment: New student Todd begins his first year at the prestigious boarding school Welton Academy for Boys. Likewise, the other boys return for the new semester. The boys meet the poetry teacher Mr. Keating and are inspired by his calls to think for oneself and “seize the day.” The boys find in an old yearbook that Keating was once a member of the “Dead Poets Society,” a secret club dedicated to “sucking the marrow out of life.” The boys decide to reform the DPS. (End of Act 1: The protagonists dedicate themselves to pursuing their own personal freedoms rather than blindly conform to the System’s rules and expectations.)

In Act 2A, through the secret meetings of the new DPS and class with Mr. Keating, the boys gain confidence and a burgeoning sense of self-independence. This sparks minor acts of rebellion: Neil auditions for, and gets the lead role in, the school play in defiance of his father’s wishes; Todd throws his parents’ thoughtless birthday present into the river; Knox (Josh Charles) drinks and makes a move on his crush Christine in front of her jock boyfriend; the boys invite girls from another school to join their DPS meetings. These actions are done in secret, however, so Society’s Act 2A does not yet feature any direct backlash from the System. [In this way, the act’s events are more similar to those found in a Social Reformer.] Yet, we do see these forces at play as Keating’s unorthodox teaching methods become a subject of rumor and controversy among Welton’s conservative faculty.

At the Midpoint, the boys cross a line in the sand with an act of open rebellion: Some DPS members write a sarcastic letter to the school asking for girls to be admitted, making the bold but foolish move of signing the letter “The Dead Poets Society.” The response from the System is immediate: The faculty hastily arrange a disciplinary meeting to address this action. The boys, however, escalate their defiance by interrupting the meeting with a prank. The boys are now in open revolt against the System’s rules (in all of its various forms), creating a series of escalating actions and counter-actions across the several story threads in Act 2B. (The school headmaster paddles Charlie [Gale Hansen] when he refuses to give up the names of the DPS members and Keating is reprimanded for encouraging their free-thinking; Neil’s father (Kurtwood Smith) orders Neil to quit the school play, but Neil lies to Keating about the incident in order to remain in the play; Knox makes a fool of himself by going to Christine’s school to publicly woo her with poetry). Such back-and-forth battles culminate with a crisis event to end Act 2B: Neil’s father is so furious about Neil defying his wishes that he announces plans to remove Neil from Welton to enroll him in military school. In the ultimate act of teen rebellion, Neil commits suicide.

Here, at the start of Act 3, the elements of the Social Reformer pattern come to the forefront. In the Social Reformer, a protagonist FIGHTS a Force of Tyranny to correct a social injustice (as in Braveheart [1995] or Erin Brockovich [2000]). A key part of this pattern’s development comes in the forging of alliances against the Force of Tyranny. We have already seen elements of this in Society’s Act 2A, as the initiation of the new DPS requires the participation of all the boys and the tacit support of Keating (Keating serves the function of the Prime Support [also called the “OverBoss”] character found in the Social Reformer). The Social Reformer’s End of 2B crisis event occurs when a major counter-strike by the Force of Tyranny causes these alliances to fall apart. This is what happens in Society’s Act 3 when Welton responds to Neil’s suicide: (Cameron [Dylan Kussman] betrays the DPS’s secrets to the headmaster. Charlie is expelled for punching Cameron as payback.) If the alliances can be reforged, the Social Reformer ends in victory (as happens in Brockovich). If not, the result is an inevitable failure (as in Braveheart). Society heads toward a Tragic resolution by following the latter path: (The remaining boys are forced to sign a confession blaming everything on the influence of Mr. Keating. Keating is fired.)

Yet, shifting back to the Insurrectionist, we find that (like in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) even when an Insurrectionist ends tragically for some, the story will often conclude on a note of hope to suggest that freedoms and liberties are still worth fighting for. This occurs at Society’s bittersweet climax: The boys (with the exception of the traitor Cameron) defy the headmaster by standing atop their desks to salute Keating as he makes his final exit.

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