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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