(Click here for an overview of the 34 Common Plot Patterns of American Cinema)
The extravaganza continues this week with an analysis of eight more films operating in groups 8 and 9 of the Action-Centered Plot Patterns! Enjoy.
(SPOILERS)
North by Northwest (1959)
More
than sixty years old, Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest
can definitely be labeled a Hollywood classic. The structural
analysis of anything over forty years old can be a bit tricky,
however, as the “classical” narrative structures used in
Hollywood’s past differ in many ways from what we are accustomed to
seeing on movie screens today. However, true “classics” (older
films which remain widely-loved and critically-revered due to their
superior storytelling, such as Casablanca, Citizen Kane, The
Wizard of Oz or North by Northwest), seem to have been far
ahead of the curve when it came to structural proficiency. Thus,
despite their extensive age, Casablanca is still a
prototypical Crisis of Conscience, Citizen Kane represents a
prototypical Power Glutton, and North by Northwest provides a
early example of Type 9a: The Involuntary Snowball of Complications.
Exemplified
by films like Back to the Future (1985) or The Big Lebowski
(1998), the Involuntary Snowball features a protagonist who
becomes unwittingly tangled up in an increasingly complex, and
eventually overwhelming, narrative situation. While the protagonist
may have been initially drawn into the situation by fate or bad luck,
the protagonist subsequently makes the predicament worse and worse
through a series of mistakes and poor judgments. The plot thus
develops like a giant snowball rolling downhill; increasing in size,
as well as speed, as it picks up more and more material as it goes.
If
we simplify its twists and turns, North by Northwest fits in
quite well with other Involuntary Snowball prototypes. Protagonist
Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant) is corralled into a life-or-death
conflict by pure bad luck when the antagonist mistakes him for a
government agent named George Kaplan. This creates problems enough,
but at the end of Act 1, Thornhill commits a major error which
greatly complicates his situation: Thornhill is photographed holding
the knife used to murder a UN diplomat, inciting a manhunt for his
arrest. In Act 2A, Thornhill deals with the consequences of this
complication to the best of his limited abilities, but clumsy actions
and foolish mistakes lead to an event which adds another, and even
greater story complication: Thornhill is set up to be killed (in the
famous cropduster sequence) by the beautiful blonde Thornhill
believed to be an ally (Eva Marie Saint), revealing that he has been
playing right into the antagonist’s hands. Thornhill must work even
harder in Act 2B to outrun the snowball of complications threatening
to crush him. Luckily for him, Act 2B ends (as all Involuntary
Snowballs do) with an event that successfully resolves the
complication created at the End of Act 1: Thornhill is taken in by
the intelligence agency behind the “Kaplan” mystery. This event
essentially clears Thornhill of the UN murder and ends the manhunt.
With that complication out of the way, the Involuntary Snowball’s
Act 3 begins with the protagonist turning all of his/her attention
onto resolving the original conflict set up in Act 1: Thornhill
agrees to impersonate George Kaplan to help the government stop the
antagonist.
True Lies (1994)
Arnold
Schwarzenegger made a lot of action-comedy junk in the 1990s. Most of
it can be happily forgotten. However, James Cameron’s True
Lies holds higher regard
in the opinions of genre fans. Most fans would say this is because
True Lies is a little
bit better. It’s a little bit better because it is a little bit
different. The truth is, True Lies
isn’t really the story of an elite secret agent fighting
criminals and terrorists. It is the story of a jealous husband trying
to save his failing marriage – who just happens to be
an elite member of a secret agency with all the resources of that
agency at his fingertips. Once this distinction is made, the movie’s
Involuntary Snowball plot pattern becomes apparent. For while Act 1
contains a lot of action and intrigue to set up the spectacular set
pieces found in the second half of the film, all this material is put
on hold at the end of Act 1 and left entirely absent from Act 2A.
Instead, we find Schwarzenegger’s Harry Tasker putting all his time
and agency resources into investigating his fear of his wife Helen’s
(Jamie Lee Curtis) possible adultery. However, to Harry’s horror,
these two lines of action converge at the story’s Midpoint event,
inextricably involving Helen in his mission to stop a nuclear terror
plot.
So,
here is the Involuntary Snowball structure as found in True
Lies. Act 1 sets up the story’s
external conflict, not through a single inciting incident, but a
series of events—a trademark of the Snowball of Complications plot
patterns: (Harry Tasker lives a double life. The demands of his
secret professional life have put an undue strain on his private
life, leaving Helen unhappy.) The protagonist then makes a major
error at the End of Act 1 (Harry surpasses the limits of Helen’s
patience by failing to show up for his own birthday party), which as
a result creates a major complication to the protagonist’s
situation: (Harry learns that Helen has begun seeing another man,
causing Harry to fear that Helen is cheating on him). Act 2A then
focuses not so much on the situation established in Act 1, but the
protagonist’s efforts to deal with the new complication. (Harry
abuses the power of his agency to spy on Helen and scare away his
rival. He then sets up a complex ruse to rekindle his marriage.)
However, the protagonist’s attempts to deal with the complication
end up worsening the overall situation by triggering an even greater
complication at the Midpoint. (The bad guys get the drop on Harry. They mistake Helen for a fellow agent and kidnap them both.)
Now dug deep into a hole of his own making, the protagonist must put
all his Act 2B effort into climbing out of that hole, while dealing
with the unexpected obstacles and further complications which come
along the way. Act 2B then ends in a manner which successfully
resolves the complication created at the End of Act 1. (Harry,
injected with truth serum, confesses everything about his secret
double-life to Helen. With the two now open and honest with one
another, there is no more reason for marital discord or Harry’s
suspicions.) With the End of Act 1 complication cleared out of the
way, Act 3 focuses upon resolving the original problem established at
the story’s inciting incident. (Harry stops the terrorists from
detonating their nuclear weapons.)
Back
to the Future follows this
structural pattern. The Big Lebowski
follows this pattern. North by Northwest
follows this pattern. And so does True Lies.
Risky Business (1983)
Risky Business,
the 1983 Coming of Age classic
which launched Tom Cruise into movie stardom, presents yet another
Involuntary Snowball of Complications. However Business
deviates from the pattern’s standard form. While prototypical
examples structure their Major Dramatic Turning Points in the
following fashion: Problem – Complication #1 – Complication #2 –
Resolution of Complications – Final Resolution; Business
opts for a structure which goes more like this: Problem –
Complication – Resolution/New Complication – Resolution/New
Complication – Final Resolution.
I
will not go into too much detail, seeing as I have already described
the Involuntarily Snowball twice. However, a brief overview of
Business’s plot
should make clear how this deviant example operates.
High
school senior Joel Goodson, given the house to himself while his
parents are on vacation, is teased by his friends because he is about
to enter college (and thus, adulthood) with his virginity still
intact. In response, Joel contracts the services of young prostitute
Lana (Rebecca De Mornay). After a night with Lana, Joel finds he has
no money to pay her. Joel goes to the bank and returns to find Lana
missing, along with his mother’s prized (and extremely expensive) glass
Steuben egg (End of Act 1 Complication). Joel tracks down Lana,
but both are threatened by Lana’s pimp Guido (Joe Pantoliano). Lana
agrees to get Joel the egg back, but she needs to stay at his house
for a few days to get away from Guido. Things seem to be on the road
to resolution for Joel (despite the slight added complication of
having a prostitute living in his parents’ home). However, a night
out with Lana and some friends ends with the wreck of his father’s
Porsche (New complication #2, ending Act 2A). To pay for the repairs,
Lana suggests going into business for themselves by turning Joel’s
house into a one-night brothel. Despite some hiccups, the plan goes
well and Joel manages to get the Porsche repaired by the close of Act
2B (Resolution). However, when Joel brings the car home, he finds
that every piece of furniture in the house has been stolen (New
complication #3, launching Act 3). Guido arrives in a moving truck
full of the stolen furniture and offers it back in exchange for all
the money leftover from Joel’s brothel. Joel gives in and manages
to get everything back into place before his parents come home
(Resolution). In the end, we are given to believe that Joel’s
adventure has granted him the wisdom and experience he needs to cross
the threshold into adulthood (Final Resolution).
They Live (1988)
While
the Involuntary Snowball features a protagonist who becomes
unwillingly wrapped up in an increasingly complicated situation, Type
9b: The Voluntary Snowball follows a protagonist who dives head-first
into such a situation by their own free will. The most characteristic
feature of this second pattern is the presence of a “Siren” that
lures the protagonist deeper and deeper into a story conflict which
they would be wiser to avoid. This “Siren’s call” might issue
from the protagonist’s obsession with another character (as in Blue
Velvet [1986] or WALL-E
[2008]), the desire to obtain a
valuable object (as in Raiders of the Lost Ark
[1981]), or a mystery the protagonist feels compelled to solve (as in
Chinatown [1974]).
They Live contains a
fairly simple story, and thus uses a simplified version of the
Voluntary Snowball. Yet the hero John Nada’s (Roddy Piper) compulsion is
nevertheless the same as Chinatown’s
Jake Gittes (Jack Nicholson). When Nada learns of a hidden
conspiracy, he is driven to dig deeper and deeper into the mystery
until he can uncover the truth and reveal it to the world. Like
Gittes, nothing physically forces Nada to continually push his way
into increasingly dangerous territory—except his own obsession with
the Siren’s call.
(As
a side note, I do not remember if Piper’s character is ever
referred to by name in the film. I had to look up the character name
on imdb.com. “Nada” literally means “nothing,” providing added commentary to the nature of the protagonist.)
The
voluntary nature of this plot pattern may be seen in the way that,
unlike in the Involuntary Snowball, each turning point presents Nada
with an opportunity to walk away from the situation with no immediate
consequences. However, Nada continually chooses to escalate his
involvement by his own free will. When Nada sees strange goings-on at
the church across the street, he could choose to ignore it. It’s
really none of his business. Still, he sneaks in to investigate. When
he watches the police raid the church and clear out the homeless
camp, he could take it as a clear warning to move on. Anything he
does at this point would be asking for trouble. Yet still, he returns
to the empty church and collects a mysterious box. When Nada finds a
special pair of sunglasses which reveal that human society has been
secretly enslaved by aliens, he could protect himself by keeping this
revelation a secret. After all, no one knows about his discovery.
Instead, he openly challenges these disguised aliens. As the story
later establishes, Nada is not the first human to learn this secret.
The aliens’ usual strategy is to bribe these potential troublemakers
into silence with wealth and power. An alien cop suggests such a deal
to Nada just before the story’s Midpoint. But Nada does not even
consider the option. He grabs a gun and starts to kill aliens left
and right. (This is similar to the Midpoint in Chinatown
where the antagonist Noah Cross
offers Jake twice as much money to switch loyalties to his side.
Gittes refuses, starting his own one-man war against Cross.)
The Siren, of course, is an obsession, and thus leads the protagonist
to increasingly risky and irrational actions against his or her own
self-interest. To avoid self-destruction, the protagonist must
eventually pull back from the obsession and extricate him or herself
from the self-created complications through prudent and reasonable
actions. Nada, however, shows all the rationality of a kamikaze in
the film’s final act. While there may have been a more reasonable
way to reveal the story’s secrets to the world, Nada hurls himself
into a suicide mission. Though Nada does ultimately achieve his
objective, his only reward is a tragic death.
(By
the way, in this current era of high-profile genre soap operas like
Game of Thrones and
Breaking Bad, I am
surprised that there has not yet been a series developed from They
Live. The film hints at a vast
narrative universe with questions and mysteries the original story
has no time to explore. There is enormous potential for its premise
if opened up to include a wide cast of characters.)
Jurassic Park (1993)
I
know a lot of people, particularly those who grew up in the 1980s &
90s, hold a deep nostalgic fervor for the original Jurassic
Park. However, I hate to break
it to you that Jurassic has
pretty poor story structure. It is an extremely front-heavy film
which dedicates most of its run time not to plot or character, but to
pure spectacle. It is not until about forty minutes into the film
that Jurassic seems to
realize that it also needs to tell a story. This poses some problems
for structural analysis, as all the major plot turning points have
been compressed into the back half of the film. However, here is the
dramatic 3-Act structure of Jurassic Park:
Act
1: A team of researchers are invited by an eccentric billionaire to a
mysterious faraway location. The act ends with the characters
arriving at the location to see its wonders.
Act
2A: After some exposition and a tour of the facilities, disaster
strikes when the security system is disabled by a traitor, releasing
the dinosaurs from their pens. The characters flee from the ensuing
chaos.
Act
2B: With the situation momentarily stabilized, the characters find
that the security system cannot be simply switched back on. The only
way to reboot the system is through a dangerous mission into
dinosaur-overrun territory. This mission is successful, but not
without the loss of life.
Act
3: With that issue resolved, the characters can now make their escape
from the park. However, this is no easy task, as unexpected threats
pop up along the way, keeping the characters’ escape uncertain
until the story climax.
The
most conspicuous thing about this summary is the placement of the
story’s most significant dramatic event: the release of the
dinosaurs from their enclosures. This event occurs not at the end of
Act 1 or Act 2A, but at the end of the first sequence of
Act 2A. This is a dead giveaway
of plot pattern Type 8b: There & Back Again.
Exemplified
by the prototypes The Wizard of Oz (1939),
Apollo 13 (1995), and
Deliverance (1972),
the There & Back Again contains a character (or, more often, a
group of characters) who leaves home on an adventure, only to
encounter a disastrous complication that threatens any safe return.
The remainder of the narrative focuses on efforts to overcome the
disastrous complications so the characters may ultimately return to
the safety of home. In Act 1, characters prepare for an adventure.
The act ends with the adventure passing its point of no return. (A
cyclone lands Dorothy’s house in Oz; the Apollo rocket takes off;
the four friends in Deliverance
launch their canoes down the river). At this point, things are (more
or less) safe and under control. However, disaster strikes at the
following turning point (Dorothy’s life is threatened by the Wicked
Witch, demanding a journey to the Wizard for help; a malfunction
sends the Apollo capsule out of control; the friends are set upon by
evil mountain men.) For the remainder of Act 2A, the characters
struggle to regain control over their immediate situation. By the end
of the act, some sense of stability has been restored. However, the
Midpoint reveals a major complication (typically a direct result of
the initial disaster) which prevents any current possibility of a
safe return home. (The Wizard refuses to help Dorothy return to
Kansas until she brings him the broom of the Wicked Witch; damage to
the Apollo capsule will doom the astronauts unless quick solutions
are found; after killing and burying one of the mountain men, the
friends realize the survivor is hunting them like animals.) Act 2B
then focuses on resolving this complication, reaching success at the
act’s end. With that issue resolved, Act 3 launches the quest to
return home, with threats and obstacles encountered along the way.
The
There & Back Again has been included in the “Literal Journey”
family of patterns due to the fact that the prototypical examples
mentioned above present narratives where characters are
always on the move, engaged in a traveling adventure in the most
classical sense. The End of Act 1 Turning Point of these films is
thus marked by the official launch of the journey. However, Jurassic
Park (as
well as the next three films discussed below) provides evidence for a
commonly-used alternative structure. Rather than launch the beginning
of an ongoing journey, the end of Act 1 marks the characters’
arrival at a static (though far away) location. The following moment
of disaster then threatens the characters’ chances of safely leaving the
location. The remaining three acts then continue to follow the
standard pattern: 2A: Overcoming the immediate danger. 2B: Resolving
the new complication. 3: The struggle to finally head home. We find
more than enough evidence to support this alternative in the next
three examples.
Aliens (1986)
Here’s
something interesting. Aliens
and Jurassic Park tell
the exact same story. I don’t simply mean they follow the same plot
pattern. I am saying the two films literally tell identical stories.
The only differences are in the identity of the characters and the
monstrous beasts who threaten them (plus the fact that Aliens’
plot develops with much better pace and structure).
In
Act 1, we have the assembling of a team of specialists to be sent to
an exotic, far-off location potentially fraught with dangers and
wonders. (The Weyland-Yutani corporation recruits Ellen Ripley to
accompany a team of Marines and company representative Burke on an
investigation of the site where Ripley and the Nostromo crew first
encountered the alien creatures in the previous film.) The team
arrives at the location at the end of Act 1. Everything first appears
to be quiet and under control. But, at the first turning point of Act
2A, the monsters break loose. (The Marines unexpectedly awaken a hive
of warrior xenomorphs, initiating a frenzied battle to escape.) The
survivors manage to get to momentary safety. However, a technical
problem caused by the preceding disaster prevents their escape from
the location. (Damage to equipment prevents the team from piloting a
dropship to the planet’s surface. Later, a second technical
complication adds further urgency: the facility’s nuclear reactor
is going into meltdown, preventing the possibility of simply
hunkering down and waiting for rescue.) This demands that certain
crew members make a dangerous journey through the cramped, dark
facilities to resolve the technical problem. (Bishop volunteers to
crawl through a conduit to an uplink tower in order to pilot a
dropship to the surface remotely—much like how Arnold, Muldoon and
Sattler in Jurassic
volunteer to reset the park’s power generator.) Meanwhile, the
others must do their best to fend off further encounters with the
monsters as they wait, but not without the addition of new threats
(Ripley and Newt are menaced by the release of two facehugger
aliens—much like how the quest to reset the generator frees the
raptors in Jurassic).
The technical complication is successfully resolved, launching the
action of Act 3: the flight to the escape vessel through
monster-infested territory. (In additional parallel, the Act 3 of
both films contains a turning point where the protagonist must face
the monsters directly in order to rescue child characters.) At the
climax, the biggest, baddest monster of all blocks the way to the
escape vessel. The survivors outwit and escape this final obstacle
and finally leave the treacherous monster-filled world behind.
Now
I’m not explicitly saying that Steven Spielberg’s film ripped off
James Cameron’s film. (Even though, you know, Aliens
was released seven years before Jurassic Park.)
After all, a main tenet of my theory of plot patterns is that film
narratives naturally gravitate toward the same story structures for
reasons other than conscious imitation. (Even though, you know, the
velociraptors in Jurassic
really do look and act a lot like the xenomorphs in Aliens.)
I’m just saying that the two films manage to tell remarkably
similar stories—and that Aliens manages
to do it with better structure and in a way that develops organically
from its characters and initiating plot premise. That’s all I’m
sayin’.
Back the the Future, Part III (1990)
Now
on to a There & Back Again of a much different character. The
original Back to the Future, as well as its first sequel
(1989), both present prototypical examples of the Involuntary
Snowball of Complications. In both, Marty gets unwillingly caught up
in a time-travel adventure; causes a royal screw-up at the end of Act
1; recognizes the full consequences of this screw-up at the Midpoint;
and takes actions to correct the screw-up in Act 2B. With the
screw-up finally resolved, Marty and Doc can focus all their energies
on the return to the year 1985 in Act 3. Back to the Future, Part III
is a bit different. In this third and final installment, Marty must
rescue Doc from an untimely demise in the year 1885. To execute this
rescue narrative, Future III opts for the There & Back
Again pattern.
Acts
1 & 3 of Future III match the There & Back’s
prototypical norms. In Act 1, Marty encounters pressing reasons for a
journey to 1885, prepares for the journey, and arrives at this
destination at the end-of-act turning point (once again, using the
alternative structure found in Jurassic Park and Aliens).
Act 3 is all about executing Doc’s plan to escape 1885 (by way of a
runaway locomotive) so the heroes may return safely home.
Acts
2A & 2B, however, contain some slight, though certainly
acceptable, deviations from the pattern’s standard norms. First
off, the first turning point of Act 2A does not create the kind of
world-shattering disaster typical to the pattern (at least, nothing
on the level of Apollo 13 or Jurassic Park). In Future
III, Act 2A first turns when Marty mistakenly incites the ire of
outlaw Buford “Mad Dog” Tannen. While Marty is briefly put in
danger, the threat is brought to a quick end through a sudden rescue
by Doc Brown. This event creates more of a future complication than a
situation-altering disaster. The following turning point does create
situation-altering development: the DeLorean time machine has lost
all of its gasoline. Since there is no gasoline in year 1885, the
heroes are trapped in the past until a solution can be found. Once
again, this poses no immediate threat. However, this
complication demands urgent action for the remainder of 2A, as the
heroes must discover a solution before the fateful events which will
end Doc's life come about.
Act
2B does, however, stick a bit closer to the norm. At the Midpoint, a
second life-threatening complication arises—one directly related to
the first turning point event of Act 2A: A second encounter with “Mad
Dog” Tannen results in Tannen demanding, and Marty foolishly
accepting, a duel in two days. Marty certainly cannot return safely
home if he is shot dead in the streets, so this event creates a major
complication which must be overcome in Act 2B before Marty and Doc
can begin their escape from 1885. (The film also dimensionalizes its
Act 2B with the addition of a character subplot: Doc has fallen in
love with the schoolteacher Clara (Mary Steenburgen), making him
question whether he desires to return to 1985, even though his life
may be in danger if he stays.) True to form, Marty overcomes his
complication at the end of the act, clearing the way for the long,
climactic returning home sequence that makes up Act 3.
Indiana Jones & The Temple of Doom (1984)
As
the soft middle of the original Indiana Jones trilogy, Temple of
Doom does not generate the same level of nostalgic love or
enthusiasm as the two films which bookend the series; Raiders of
the Lost Ark and Indiana Jones & The Last Crusade
(1989). It is not difficult to see why. Both Raiders and
Crusade offer classic, family-fun versions of the Voluntary
Snowball pattern. In both, the adventurous, devil-may-care
archaeologist risks life and limb in a obsessive quest to claim a
powerful ancient artifact before Nazis can use it for evil ends.
(Although Crusade puts a twist on this. It is not Indy who is
obsessed with the Holy Grail, but his father Henry, Sr. (Sean
Connery). Indy joins the adventure to keep his father from being
killed.) The Temple of Doom, however, chooses to follow the
There & Back, to far less spectacular effect.
I
am not going to discuss this film in too much detail, as I am on the
verge of doing the There & Back to death. Plus, Doom is
simply not a very good example of the pattern. Instead, I will
provide a brief overview of the pattern’s use in Doom with
some comments on why the results where so mediocre.
First
off, we can dismiss the opening prologue sequence set in Shanghai.
Prologue sequences, a trademark of the Indiana Jones franchise, open
the film with a separate, self-contained narrative. They have their
own Story Spine and 3-Act structure and thus, while they may
establish certain story elements, prologue sequences are not part of
the main story proper. They may hence be completely removed from the
film with little effect upon the audience’s comprehension of the
plot.
Doom’s
inciting incident occurs only after Indy’s plane crash-lands in
India. By happenstance, Indy and his comrades Willie and Short Round
come upon a village which has fallen into desolation after the theft
of their sacred stone. The thieves have also kidnapped the village’s
children. Indy agrees to retrieve the stone and children. Why? Out of
the goodness of his heart, I guess. This inciting incident conflicts
with Indy’s established character, as it lacks the personal, or
even the political motivations found in the other two Indiana Jones
films. Indy’s appeal as a protagonist is that he is always a bit of
a rogue. He insists that he is out only for his own fame and glory,
and only after much coaxing and dramatic pressure recognizes his more
virtuous impulses to accept the role of a hero. Yet there is none of
that in Doom. Indy’s selfless volunteerism makes even less
sense when we consider that Doom is technically a prequel, set
one year before the character arc found in Raiders.
In
any case, Indy & company set off on the adventure, reaching their
destination Pankot Palace at the End of Act 1. At the next turning
point, Indy is attacked by a would-be assassin, which leads to the
discovery of a passageway leading to the titular temple with its
death cult and child slaves. Though still the story’s most pivotal
event, this turning point falls flat as the pattern’s “disaster
strikes” moment. It is not a life-threatening event which demands
immediate response. Rather, it is a simple development which leads to
later threats. On top of this, Indy chooses to enter the temple
voluntarily, an action followed by a lot of sneaking around which
continues to lack any immediate direct conflict. This, plus the
inciting incident, seems to suggest that the writers were indeed
trying to replicate the Voluntary Snowball structure found in the
original Raiders. However, the plot was misexecuted, resulting
in a flawed There & Back.
My
presumption that Doom indeed represents a There & Back and
not a Voluntary Snowball is supported by the story’s next two
end-of-act turning points. At the Midpoint, Indy is brainwashed by
the cult’s evil leader to become a mindless slave. This certainly
creates a major complication which must be resolved before the
characters can attempt their escape. (But then again, one must
question the wisdom of turning the franchise’s intrepid adventurer
into a passive drone, leaving the burden of further plot development
to supporting characters during such a pivotal stretch of the film.)
Indy is brought back to his senses at the End of 2B Turning Point,
initiating the long series of escape sequences that make up Act 3,
culminating with the memorable climax at the rope bridge. All in all,
we do find the There & Back’s basic structure of a journey away
from “home,” an adventure with unexpected complications met at
the destination, and a successful escape and return. It’s just not
one to model your own stories after.
* * * * *
Click HERE for Part 3 of my Plot Pattern Extravaganza, featuring six films in the Antagonism-Centered Plot Patterns: Se7en, Predator, Hellboy, Teenage Mutant Ninja
Turtles (the good one), and more.
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